#since she's my biggest muse right now

[generalsmemories]

How do I tell my husband he got scammed into buying a lion?

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ summary: during one autumn afternoon you're suddenly faced with another one of your husband's impulsive purchases. only that this time it's a living being.

✧ content: established relationship, fluff, humor, might be a bit ooc

✧ a/n: hello there hsr fandom! i have unfortunately lost the battle against myself on making another sideblog for jing yuan, the man who has singlehandedly occupied my mind since his first appearance in the beta. i do hope that this will actually appear in the tags, but every infomation you would need if you want to request something is all up on the blog if you so wish! i hope we can have a pleasant time together !!

also this is not beta-read, we die like how fast my resolve to not create a jing yuan blog died.

Being the spouse of the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu comes with it's share of benefits and disadvantages. For one you're regarded at a higher position than most of it's citizens, often being stopped on the side of the road when taking a walk to exchange numerous pleasantries with merchants from outside of Xianzhou, various store owners or cloud knights on duty.

Another factor is shouldering the burden your husband has on his shoulder, an oath you had taken yourself the day you accepted Jing Yuan's nth proposal. You considered that a fair trade with his vast knowledge and insight into a possible future and doing everything behind the scene to avoid colliding headfirst into said problem. A feat that attracted you towards the general in the first place, minus his dashing looks of course.

The biggest disadvantage of publicly announcing that you were indeed the Arbiter-General's significant other was doing everything within your power to not throw your husband's famous title away for a newer, more terrible one. (more utc!)

Because as you see him walking up the steps of the Seat of Divine Foresight, your gaze is not locked with your husband's smiling face, rather it's fixated on the small being he has cradled in his arms. The soft smile you had quickly spreading into a more nervous and confused smile as you glance over at Qingzu, the counselor looking at you with just as much confusion.

How in the world did you manage to leave him alone out in the market area for an hour and he comes back with a lion cub?

"[Name], darling! Look at this grimalkin that a merchant had!"

A what now?

"... A grimalkin, you say?" Every book that has recorded history had specified that the grimalkin species had gone extinct, and you were well aware that your husband knew this fact. And yet here you were, faced with his smile directed down towards what you can clearly tell is a lion cub, his thumb pressing down at its paws affectionately.

You're starting to think that Yanqing's impulsive purchases with his sword collection aligns with your own husband's impulsiveness.

Coughing loudly into your hand, you take a deep breath before descending down the stairs to be on the same level as Jing Yuan, peering down onto the cub's face. It was indeed cute, and judging by how enamored Jing Yuan is, you can clearly tell that it's small stature is what attracted him to it in the first place.

Oh he's going to be crushed when it grows up, "It's adorable, Jing Yuan," you settle on saying, waving a finger over the lion's grimalkin face, the animal lifting its paws to try to grab it. You shoot a look towards Qingzu, a silent command for her to look into which outer merchant was now scamming people into buying literal lions. The counselor quickly excusing herself to look into the matter immediately, Jing Yuan only giving her a smile and a wave of his hand as she scurries down the stairs.

"Right? I decided to name it Mimi," he muses, and your heart breaks a tiny bit for him, but there are more pressing matters at hand than the fact that your husband once again got scammed because he was most likely bored out of his mind.

You would rather that the Xianzhou citizens know him as "The Dozing General" instead of the general that gets scammed a few times too many. How does one even go on about trying to tell their husband that the grimalkin in his arms is actually a lion?

"A fitting name indeed," you mutter, raising a hand to caress Jing Yuan's cheek, a simple gesture to make the general direct his attention to you. However, you could still see that his guard was slightly up with you. You only chuckle at that, leaning in to slide your lips over his own, Jing Yuan wasting no time to press back.

Another well hidden secret reserved for the walls of the Divine Foresight is the fact your husband is incredibly weak for his own spouse.

"... Want to tell me how much you paid for Mimi, dear?" you ask in a whisper when your lips part, thumb caressing over the mole under his eye.

Jing Yuan merely smiles, twisting his head to press his lips against your hand instead, "It was from my personal wallet, dear. Please don't fret over the small details."

"Darling, I hope you're aware that the small details would be the necessary funding for accomodation, toys and food, right?" you say with a chuckle, your husband freezing with his ministrations upon remembering that fact.

Oh well, you want to see how long it takes before your husband comes to realization that it's a lion. You just have to be extra vigilant towards the numerous fundings in the meantime.

While scrolling through your schedule for the next morning, your phone dings with a message from Qingzu. You quickly look down at Mimi whose resting on your belly and then at Jing Yuan whose sleeping self is still snoring away by your shoulder before letting out a small sigh in relief that the loud noise didn't awake any of them.

Qingzu:

Do I even have a say in this?

Was the message sent by Qingzu, attatched to it is a picture taken of what you can only presume is one of Jing Yuan's "diaries". The contents of it making you let out a low laugh, the shaking making said man beside you grumble before pressing his face into your neck.

Attatched image:

"Eventually, I paid hefty sum for the grimalkin, named it "Mimi", and took it home. Only that I'm too busy with official business and have little time to take care of Mimi. After thinking it over, chores like feeding it and changing its water should also be entrusted to Qingzu. I do wonder why [Name] looked so distraught when they first saw Mimi though. Maybe they didn't think I would favor the petite and small animals instead of the usual large and strong ones?"

[Name]:

So Qingzu, do you have an idea what the easiest way to tell someone they got scammed is?

Qingzu:

That is the role of the spouse, not the counselor.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #star rail x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x reader #x reader #reader insert

[starkwlkr]

Hi. Love your fics!!! Could you do a Charles + Ruby one where Y/N is a singer and they go to one of her concerts or a big performance like her Super Bowl halftime show or something? Thank you!❤️

mommy’s biggest fans | charles leclerc

y/n is in her harry styles fifteen nights at msg era 🫶🏼 so for this imagine we are doing her final night at msg or the kia forum or whichever arena you’d like

also taylor is going to be the faceclaim this time because why not 🙃 also kelly mention but only because p is the cutest kid 🥲

“We are getting ready for my wife’s concert tonight,” Charles spoke to the camera. He decided that Y/n’s last concert would be a great place to make a vlog. He looked at his phone. “It is four thirty and the kids are not ready. Ruby is watching Bluey.”

“And Bingo! Don’t forget Bingo!” Ruby said as she munched on her fruit snacks while seated on the bed.

“Right, Bingo too. All of the family is coming and so are our friends. Maman and Théo are having a nap, but soon we’ll have to go to the arena to see my wife perform, isn’t that exciting, Ruby?” Charles asked the girl.

“She’s going to sing my favorite song, she told me.”

“What’s your favorite song?” Charles asked.

“All of them, duh!”

“How are you feeling?” The camera was pointed at Y/n, who was getting her makeup done for her show. Charles and the kids had arrived so they spent their time in Y/n’s dressing room until the show began. Y/n’s dressing room changed over the years. First, it was filled with makeup and dresses and lots of food for before and after the show. Now, it had a stroller, toys and diaper bags.

“I am so happy. My family and friends are here. I’m so glad all of the nights have been sold out.” Y/n smiled.

“And do you have any surprises for tonight?”

“I have some. . .”

Ruby was escorted to her seat along with the Leclerc family and their friends. As the show began, the lights changed which caused Ruby to scream as loud as she could. She had been to many of her mother’s shows before, but she always had the same reaction.

Y/n started singing and so did Ruby and Mathéo. They knew all of her songs even the unreleased ones. Towards the middle of the show, a man apart of Y/n’s security team whispered something into Charles’ ear then walked with him to the side stage. Ruby was the only one who noticed as her family and friends danced and sang along.

“So this is the part of the show where I usually have some big surprise. And I do have one, but I just want to take the time to thank all of you for being here, for singing these songs, dancing, making friendship bracelets, dressing up. I love you all and I hope you love this next duet.” Y/n said. She smiled as the crowd erupted into cheers.

She walked further down the stage to her piano. The fans immediately thought she would be the one to play the piano, but they were mistaken since Charles had made his way to the piano with the biggest smile on his face.

As Charles sat on the piano bench, Y/n spoke again to the crowd. “Ladies, gentlemen, friends. I am very happy to introduce you to the man that makes me the happiest woman on earth, my husband, my muse, Mr. Charles Leclerc!” Y/n clapped as the crowd cheered for Charles, who got shy by the love he was receiving. “and also the father of my two kids, just had to add that.” She chuckled.

“Hello.” Charles spoke into the microphone which caused more cheers.

“They love you,” Y/n teased as she looked back to Charles. “So Charles and I talked and we had a hard time trying to pick which song to play together. We didn’t know if we wanted to do a cover or one of my songs and finally we decided why not play a new song.”

As Charles played a bit with the keys, Y/n looked back once again to him just to make sure he was alright. She then nodded at him so they could start.

Moon, a hole of light

Through the big top tent up high

Here before and after me

After the duet, Charles whispered an ‘I love you’ to his wife, which she returned. As the show went on, Y/n would often walk to the section that her family was in and blew them a kiss.

Y/n knew that most drivers on the F1 grid were going to attended, one of them being Sebastian with his wife and kids. She remembered Charles mentioning that it was Sebastian and Hanna’s wedding anniversary so she knew that she just had to sing a love song to them.

“This next song is dedicated to two special people who are celebrating their anniversary today. Seb, Hanna, congratulations and you know I will always love you and your family.” Y/n smiled at the Vettel family who were next to hers.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

And this is our place, we make the rules

f1wagsupdates has added to their story // lilymhe has added to their story

After the show ended, Y/n couldn’t believe she had just played fifteen nights straight. She loved performing, but what she loved the most was her family and her family needed her more than ever. She was finally coming home to her babies and Charles.

When she got backstage, she immediately started asking for her family. A stage manager had told her they were on their way backstage. When she spotted the kids, she ran up to them and hugged them.

“Maman! You sang my favorite song! And then papa played the piano with you! I waved at you but I don’t know if you saw me. I was with uncle Thur and Théo was with uncle Enzo. We sang so loud, could you hear us?” Ruby asked her mother.

“I did. You both sang so beautifully.” Y/n told her babies. They walked together to her dressing room where the rest of her family and friends were waiting.

“Ma fille! You did amazing as always! And that duet with Charles! You two know how to make a grown woman cry.” Pascale gave a hug to her daughter in law.

“Thank you for being here.” Y/n wiped away a couple of tears.

“You know I’ll always be there for you no matter what.”

After greeting and thanking everyone for coming, she finally got some alone time with Charles. He had surprised her with a giant bouquet of flowers and a cake to celebrate the end of tour. Charles sat on the sofa in her dressing room as Y/n was taking off her makeup in front of the vanity.

“When do you think you’ll be back on tour? I know you just finished.” Charles asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to retire from the music industry. I want to be home with the kids, be able to help them with homework, make cakes for their birthdays, I would give anything just to be able to walk them to school.” Y/n explained. She began to feel emotional so she stood up and paced around the room in her white robe.

“I know, and you’re finally going to be able to do that, Mon amour. The kids are going to have their maman home.”

“I love you, I love you so so much.” Y/n said.

“I love you more.”

liked by kellypiquet, charlotte2304 and 2,377,790 others

y/nleclerc i will miss all these special moments we made during tour. thank you to everyone who came, everyone who helped. THANK YOU! thank you for singing, dancing, trading friendship bracelets and most of all, thank you for making me feel loved! I’m going to go away for some time so in the mean time, take care of each other and I will see you soon ❤️

love, y/n.

carmenmmundt you are incredible ✨

francisca.cgomes I CRIED DURING CORNELIA STREET

pierregasly can confirm

kellypiquet P and I had the best time! Thank you for inviting us!

susie_wolff amazing as always!

carla.brocker THE music industry 🫶🏼

charles_leclerc i love you forever and always

View all 46,378 comments

liked by arthur_leclerc, joris__trouche and 1,366,890 others

charles_leclerc congratulations on everything, mon amour. the kids and i are always proud of you. y/nleclerc

ferraridepressionclub i wish i didn’t know how to read 😭

wolff_toto_ sleeping on the highway tonight

roscoesacutalmom i was there and the way y/n’s eye lit up everytime she saw Charles or their kids 😭

y/nscardigan the speech she gave after the concert 🥲

leclercstype what did she say? the livestream i was watching was lagging 😭

y/nscardigan basically she thanked the fans and she also thanked her family for being so supportive and then she apologized to her kids for being away for so long but she said ‘now maman is coming home’ 😭 which made me cry even more

y/nleclerc I’m not even mad you picked these. Come back to bed, the kids and I miss you.

charles_leclerc on my way 😘

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#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff

[theemporium]

could i request sirius black with potter!reader where james knows about there relationship but is always dramatic about it

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“Oh Merlin, here they go again!”

“For fuck’s sake, Prongs.”

“Somebody hex my eyes!”

“Gladly.”

The bespectacled boy let out a small shriek when he felt a sharp pinch on his ear, squirming in his seat as he turned to glare at the culprit only to find his mother standing behind him, a knowing look on her face that quickly shut him up. 

“Stop being dramatic, James, and let your sister be happy,” Euphemia Potter told her eldest child, though it hadn’t been the first time she had said as much and it wouldn’t be the last either. It had been a common occurrence that she would find herself scolding her eldest child over his childish behaviour. 

You and James had always been close, both growing up and in the present time. Despite the age difference—though it was not much at all—your brother had always stood by your side and you likewise. When you joined him at Hogwarts, that relationship didn’t change when your friends became his friends, and his friends became your own too.

However, James Potter wasn’t expecting that it would lead to this. 

It had been over four months since you announced your relationship with Sirius Black to your brother and he had yet to get over what he called ‘the biggest betrayal of the century’.

“It’s off-putting,” James said with a heavy sigh, slumping back in his seat as he pushed his food around his plate with his fork. “I’m losing my appetite, mother.”

Euphemia gave him a blank look. “You’ll survive.”

“We aren’t even doing anything,” you pointed out to your brother but he just scoffed in response.

“He’s sitting next to you!”

You raised your brows. “And?”

“He used to sit next to me! You’ve taken my spot!” James exclaimed. 

“Well, technically I just switched seats,” Sirius piped up, always one to wind his best friend up as he threw his arm over the back of your chair. “So, she hasn’t taken your spot, I just changed mine.”

James narrowed his eyes. “There was a time where we were on the same side.” 

“You’ll always be my number two, Potter,” Sirius assured him, whilst you rolled your eyes as your brother did moments ago since you knew exactly where this was going.

“And who’s number one?” James asked with a huff. 

“My darling Euphemia, of course,” Sirius said with a massive grin on his face. “My number one Potter always and forever.”

“Hm, you just want an extra cookie,” Euphemia commented, though she seemed amused nonetheless. 

Sirius leaned his head back to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“We’ll see,” Euphemia smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before she left the room. 

James let out a scoff. “And now you’re stealing my bonus cookies too—”

“I’ll half it with you,” Sirius offered.

James paused for a moment before he grinned. “I knew you were still my best friend.” 

Your gaze shifted to your boyfriend as you felt a hand lay on the top of your thigh, turning to raise your eyebrows at him as he just flashed you an innocent look.

“What?” you asked suspiciously.

“You know you’re my real number one, right?” he asked in a low voice, his head tilting down a little so his head was closer to you. “No one could replace you, doll.”

“First my mother, then my brother,” you mused, biting back your smile. “You trying to sweet me too, Black?”

“There’s a lot of things I want to do to you,” he murmured, a dark look in his eyes that sent a wave of desire and anticipation through you as his hand squeezed the fat of your thigh. 

“Like what?” you asked, your voice a little breathier than you expected.

His grin was wolfish. “Well—” 

“MUM, THEY ARE DOING IT AGAIN!”

.

#sirius black #marauders #harry potter #hp #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fic #sirius black one shot #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter one shot #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Keith, I need a favour.”

Keith stops in his tracks. Slowly, he sets down the helmets he’s holding, freeing his hands, then holds the phone out in front of him. He ponders it carefully.

“I could throw you into the sea,” he says to it. He does some quick calculations. If he drives to the nearest seafront now, he will be approximately twenty-three hours late to his date with Lance by the time he gets back. However, if he skips the fanfare and drops his phone into the disgusting oil-filled puddle right next to him, he can proceed to his date on schedule.

“Decisions, decisions,” he muses. Fanfare is important. Dropping his phone into a puddle is whatever. It’s derivative. But dropping his phone into the North Atlantic…now that is revolutionary.

“Fucksake. Keith,” sighs the voice coming from the phone. “If you don’t answer me, I am going to change the Netflix password.”

Keith frowns. “Hey.”

“Thank you,” says Shiro emphatically, “you brat.”

“Netflix is sacred,” Keith protests. “You can’t joke about the Netflix. I am a delicate orphan, Shiro. What will happen to me if my primary care figure breaks his promises? I’ll regress and act out and end up in prison. Do you want me to end up in prison?”

“A little, honestly.”

“Gasp, Shiro. Gasp. How dare.”

“I think you should consider a degree in the dramatic arts.”

“I think you should eat my farts.” Keith snickers. “Hey, that rhymed.”

Shiro sighs, long and loud, and Keith can practically see the smile twitching on his face. “Where did I go wrong. Truly. To think I tried to raise an upstanding young man, respectful to his elders, happy to help when needed. Shame that you’re a gremlin and a changeling.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Blah blah. Get to begging for my help. I have places to be, old man. A new jacket Adam bought me to wear in front of pretty people. Well, one pretty person. Anyways.”

“God, you’re whipped,” Shiro says, and Keith ignores that because if he doesn’t he’ll combust. “You and Lance going out?”

Keith tucks his phone between his ear and his shoulder, picking the helmets back up and continuing his walk to his bike. “Yep.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Dinner at Caribella. It’s an excuse for a ride, really. Maybe walk around downtown for a bit.”

“Sounds fun. How much more fun would it be with your little sister, huh?”

Keith stops for the second time. He can see Red maybe fifty metres away. He looks at her mournfully.

“So close,” he despairs quietly, then turns back to his phone. “Not super fun, Shiro. Since she’s, you know. A year old. And a date is something you traditionally do with your boyfriend. Alone.”

Shiro makes a weirdly strangled noise halfway between a laugh and a stressed croak. “Well! The thing is.”

Keith waits. No thing is listed.

“Shiro.”

“It’s no big deal! Really.”

“Oh? I guess I’ll just hang up, then —”

“It’s just that Adam and I are at his sister’s, right, and —”

“There we go.”

“And we have a sitter. Obviously. All is well. Except, you know. The storm forecast. And everything.”

“And you’re four hours away with a car that you haven’t put snow tires on yet,” Keith surmises. He looks forlornly at his bike, sitting all pretty in her parking spot, freshly polished red paint gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the parking garage. So, so close. “You dumbass.”

“The forecast was clear this morning!”

“You’re a dad! You’re supposed to know these things!”

“Well!”

“Can’t the sitter just — stay? Overnight, or something?”

He feels bad. Any other day, he’d be happy to have Hana over, or go stay over there. He does it all the time. Hana is the coolest. He has no idea how she’s the daughter of the two biggest goobers he knows. Hell, he’s already got plans to watch her this Thursday, so Adam and Shiro can go to their old person museum date thing.

But he has plans tonight.

Fuck.

“She’s sixteen, Keith,” Shiro explains, sighing. Keith envisions his brother slumped against a wall somewhere, rubbing over the scar on his nose. “She’s too young for that. She’s Adam’s friend’s daughter, and she’s a sweetheart, but she’s got school. She can’t be responsible for a baby overnight.”

“No, I — I figured.” He drags his free hand down his face. “You need me to go over there?”

“Yeah. Mara – the sitter – can’t drive yet. Her parents are coming to get her in an hour.”

Shiro’s voice is quiet, subdued. He sounds guilty. Keith hates when Shiro is guilty. He covers his hand over the phone so Shiro can’t hear, screams a little, breathes deeply, then forces a smile wide enough that it will bleed into his voice. Hopefully.

“It’s fine, Shiro. Seriously. Lance and I’ll reschedule, Hana and I will make sure to fuck up your Netflix profile. All is well.”

“Thank you, Keith. I owe you.”

It is a dire thing when Shiro doesn’t complain about Keith messing up his Netflix profile. Once, three years ago, Keith forgot to switch the TV in their living room and watched some Hallmark movie as he sketched, just to make noise in the background. Shiro made snide comments about his taste for three months, because he’s a pretentious indie loser who watches shit like Empire unironically.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll start a tab.”

That, thankfully, makes Shiro snort. “Brat.” He brightens. Keith can almost hear the ding of a lightbulb going off in his head. “Hey, I know it’s dorky, but maybe you and Lance can still go on your date! Me and Adam used to when you were little, in the old apartment.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What, like when you marathoned Lord of the Rings on the shitty futon and ordered the greasiest pizza known to man? That’s not a date.”

“Is so! We enjoyed it, you had pizza so you weren’t having a tantrum, what else could we need?”

“You guys have been weird old people your whole entire life. Did you know that?”

“Only because you aged me. You pain. Anyways. Go pick up my daughter, or you can stay at our place. Minivan keys are where they always are. I gotta go. Love you, kiddo.”

“Ugh. Love you too.” He hangs up, blowing a raspberry at the phone. “Minivan keys are where they always are, he says. What a soccer mom.”

He stares, hands on his hips, at his bike.

What to do, what to do.

He really doesn’t want to cancel on Lance. It’s been a couple days since they’ve seen each other, because Lance’s job hates him. Plus, Hana isn’t very fussy. It’s kind of dweeby and embarrassing, but. Well. Lance likes kids. So it could be fine, honestly.

“Hana first,” Keith decides, nodding to himself. He lifts the seat compartment under the bike and shoves the extra blue helmet in, strapping on his own and starting Red up. To bring Lance to Shiro’s for an embarrassing old person date, or to cancel. That is the question.

Eh. He’ll decide on the ride.

— — —

He does not decide on the ride.

“What do you think,” he asks his sister, lips pursed. She gurgles happily at him from her high chair, shaking her soggy-Cheerio-covered fist at him. “I mean, you go to bed in a couple hours. So it’s not like it’s pure babysitting.”

“Abdalalala,” she says, which Keith translates to mean actually, now that I know you want me to sleep, I will spend tonight completely resistant to sleep, as karma. Enjoy.

“That’s rude,” he informs her.

You’re batshit, says the Pidge that lives in his brain. Also, quit procrastinating.

“Ugh,” he says, out loud. He pulls out his phone and hesitates over Lance’s contact.

to: lance <3

hey you like kids right

from: lance <3

oh my god

from: lance <3

keith, are you…

from: lance <3

pregnant??????

Keith laughs.

to: lance <3

you are not funny

from: lance <3

i’m hilarious actually it’s a tragedy

from: lance <3

i carry the burden of knowing i am solely responsible for my friends’ good humour

from: lance <3

heavy is the head that wears the crown. pensive face emoji solidarity fist emoji broken heart emoji

Keith refuses to dignify that with an answer. Also, he has been informed by Lance’s best friend that if he ignores the emoji bit it will go away eventually. So far it’s been going strong for three months, though, so Keith’s not certain. He can only hope Hunk is correct.

from: lance <3

anyways yah i like kids why

to: lance <3

how much cooler and charming would i be if i picked you up in a minivan. with my sister

from: lance <3

aw, keith!

from: lance <3

to be coolER and MORE charming you have to be cool and charming to begin with :)

from: lance <3

and you are a dweeb 💖

from: lance <3

sounds good tho

from: lance <3

Bring Forth The Child

from: lance <3

oh also bring forth burritos on ur way over

from: lance <3

i’m hungry

Hana yells and bangs on her tray. When Keith looks up, she lobs a Cheerio at him. It hits him squarely between the eyes.

“You’re right,” he says sagely, peeling it off and flicking it back at her. She shrieks in joy. “I cannot let this shit slide. I cannot simply allow myself to be roasted, Hana. I must have self respect.”

She blows a raspberry at him and bangs harder on her tray. Baby conversations are, honestly, riveting.

“Exactly, squirt. You get it. Let’s get cleaned up and go, hm?”

— — —

He picks up burritos on the drive.

Hana laughs at him.

— — —

He’s hardly pulled up in front of Lance’s apartment building when a blur streaks across the front walkway, yanking open the van’s side door.

“Oh, hell-o, precious darling!” gasps Keith’s boyfriend, tumbling into the backseat and slamming my the door shut behind him. “Hi, Hana! Hi hi hi! Aren’t you the bestest ever? You are!”

Hana, evidently pleased with the attention, babbles something incomprehensible and pats Lance’s cheek. He melts, babbling something so quickly it’s equally incomprehensible and shaking her hand. Keith watches, torn between endeared and affronted.

“Hello, boyfriend I have not seen in days,” he deadpans. “Yes, I missed you also. No, I don’t mind at all that you leave me to wither away, alone, in the front seat. Excellent chat.”

“You have a very very grumpy brother, don’t you, Hana,” Lance coos. His shoulders shake with held back laughter.

“Lance, get your ass in the front.”

“But I’m meeting the baby!”

“She is not going anywhere! Meet her at home! You turd!”

“Name-calling is not very nice,” retorts Lance primly, crawling over the console and finally settling in the passenger seat. “What kind of example are you setting, huh?”

He leans over the armrest once he’s buckled in and kisses Keith gently, cradling his hand against his jaw and tilting their heads together. He smells, as he always does, of flowers and sunshine, and Keith sighs as he sinks into the softness of him, the curve of his smile and nip of his teeth.

“Hi,” Keith murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his chin, and then squarely on the mouth again.

“Hi,” Lance responds, a little breathless, grinning widely. His hair is damp and curling at the edges. He’s left out his contacts for the night and the gold lenses match the gold flecks in his brown eyes. Everything he’s wearing is stolen right from Keith’s closet, except his socks, which are bright purple and covered in obnoxiously orange weiner dogs. Keith is so in love with him that the intensity of it embarrasses him, and he pulls away, face red, very interested suddenly in adjusting is rearview mirror.

Lance, knowing, only smiles.

“These are for you,” he says gruffly, shoving the paper takeout bag at Lance’s chest. Lance wastes no time digging through and shoving half of one in his face.

“Aw, baby,” he says, mouth completely full. “You’re literally the best. Sweet, attentive, manipulable, obsessed with me. Everything I intended when I did the love spell on you.”

Keith eyes Lance from his peripherals. He’s digging through his patched backpack, face completely serene. Keith is reminded of the actual sigil he has tattooed on his ankle. (He’s very familiar with it. It’s often right at eye level. Hard to miss, really.)

“…You’re a strange, strange man.”

“Anyways!” Lance continues, visibly gleeful. Keith reminds himself to focus on the goddamn road and remember his sister is watching with her giant wide eyes in the backseat, probably committing all his embarrassing actions to memory to report to Adam the second she is capable of speech. “I brought lots of movies. Mostly Jurassic Park, but also some educational stuff for the baby. Ghostbusters, High School Musical, you know. All that good stuff. And I stashed popcorn behind your microwave last time I slept over so we’re set for snacks.”

“Oh, we’re going to my brother’s place, actually, ‘cause Hana’s more comf— wait, behind the microwave? Why behind?”

“Wait, wait, hold on. We’re not going to your place?”

“No,” Keith says carefully. “I have some baby stuff in my apartment, but not a lot. Plus, Shiro has a better T.V. and also Adam just bought Moose Tracks. So.” He slows to a stop at a red light, noting Lance’s odd expression. “That okay?”

Lance screws up his face for a second, thinking. “I’m pretty sure? As long as there’s an extra toothbrush there. I have one at your place so I didn’t bother bringing one. And I guess I can survive a night without my face serum, but if I get one single wrinkle we’re beefing.”

“You’re not gonna get a stupid wrinkle,” Keith grouches. “And why would you get pissy if you get a wrinkle? We’re gonna get them eventually, and you —”

“‘We’?” Lance teases. “You gonna grow old with me? Gonna marry me someday, Kogane?”

“—can even use Shiro’s face stuff, anyway, I’m sure it’s the same.” Keith clears his throat. “And plus —”

His voice cracks horribly. Lance makes a valiant effort to keep his giggles to himself, but as Keith face continues to get hotter and hotter he loses control and laughs, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing with every hitched breath. His laughter sets Hana off, too, both of them encouraging each other’s ridiculousness until they’re as red as Keith is, gasping for breath.

“I hate it here,” Keith mutters darkly. “I’m turning around and bringing you back. You’re the worst. Why do I go out with you.”

Lance, barely recovered, makes kissy faces at him. “Because you want to maaaarrryyyyy meeeee, you think I’m seeeeexxxyyyyy, you want to kiiiiisssss meeeee —”

He cuffs Lance in the back of his head, pretending to check his blindspot and ignoring Lance’s cries of spousal abuse. “I actually just want you to watch Miss Congeniality twelve percent less often. For your own mental health.”

“Lies and slander! Peddling of falsehoods! Perjury and defamation!”

“I’m burning your thesaurus.”

“And now threats! Hana, you shall be my witness! I will testify against you in court! You will be jailed! I will visit you twice monthly!”

“That’s the second person today who wants me in jail,” Keith comments, pulling into Shiro’s driveway. “You’d visit me even if you put me in there?”

“Well, duh. Have to make sure you don’t go around kissing cute criminal boys or I will become a cute criminal boy.”

“Right, of course. I should have known.”

“You should have, yes.” Lance leans over and kisses him on the forehead with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ noise. “But it’s okay, I like ‘em a little dumb.”

“Help me get the diaper bag, goober,” Keith snorts, shoving him away. “I want to get inside so I can have a burrito before you eat them all.”

———

Lance was not kidding about High School Musical.

Obviously.

“Do you want her to grow up with no understanding of community, Keith,” he scolds, and pays no mind when Keith replies, “Well, she has a family, dude, so I’m not worried.”

They watch the stupid musical.

Keith is horribly endeared by Lance’s extensive knowledge of the choreography. Lance is horribly appalled at Keith’s ignorance. Hana is intrigued, mind body and soul, by every scene with Sharpay Evans. Keith assumes this will be a problem for Adam in the near future, and resolves to make that problem worse.

All this to say he’s having a very embarrassing night, in terms of mushy thoughts and feelings.

“I can’t wait to have kids of my own someday,” Lance sighs, a very sleepy Hana tucked into the crook of his arm. He watches her, soft, and Keith pauses with a DVD held loose in his hand, enraptured, because there’s a curve to Lance’s smile that he’s never seen before, and suddenly his left hand looks bare. “I know it’s supposed to be stressful and everything, but I used to force Hunk to play house with me when we were kids. Literally every day. And when my neice and nephew were born I hogged them all the time, even when they were screaming. I dunno. Being a parent sounds awesome. You get to…like…grow a person. It’s like growing a plant but a bajillion times better, probably.”

“Yeah,” says Keith, softly, and without meaning to he’s thinking of Shiro’s tired smile and the gentle hand Adam lays on the back of his neck, of their door that was always open for Keith’s nightmares, of Shiro’s clothes ruffling as he slid to the floor and sat for hours as Keith screamed himself hoarse and cried for a mother who left. Of Adam’s boiling pots and gentle hands as he guided Keith around a chopping knife. Of both Shiro’s choked-off sobs and Adam’s right embrace as Keith came back, thirteen, in the middle of the night, scared and no longer angry, and their quiet I’m so glad you’re safe. Thank you for coming back. “Yeah, family is important.”

Lance hums. He’s quiet long enough that Keith looks up, realising for the first time his gaze has been locked, unseeing, on the pictures on the wall, of Shiro and Adam and the two of them together and with Keith and with Hana and with Keith and Hana. Lance is watching him, quiet, dark eyes knowing, Hana finally asleep in his arms, beautiful and strong and everything Keith has ever wanted, suddenly, at once.

“I love you,” he blurts.

Lance smiles. “I’ve noticed.”

“Oh, you dickhead.”

“I’m saying it back!” Lance says, snickering, free hand held up in surrender. Keith walks over and slots their fingers together, squeezing slightly, leaning in and holding, a second, a hair’s breadth away from Lance’s mouth, watching his lips part, feeling the heat of his breath. His words are breathless, near silent, mouthed as much as spoken. “You changed my life, you know. I made you chase me because I thought it was funny, but — I made Hunk get me your number from Pidge the night I left the bar. I was going to text you if your brother’s tweet didn’t go viral and cement your dorkiness for eternity.”

“That’s a lotta words to say ‘I love you’, dorkbrain.”

“I know. You make me nervous.”

“You never get nervous.”

“I do with you.”

“Yeah?”

They’re so close now that their lips brush with every word, and Lance is grinning, eyes crinkled and lashes fluttering against Keith’s cheeks, and Keith has a hand careful on Hana’s head so he doesn’t crush her and is smiling just as wide. Cheesy, dorky, corny, and everything Keith wished for after every romance novel he’d steal, fooling no one, from Adam’s shelf and read long after bedtime.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I love you. Even though you’re a dweebus and a simp.”

He is, really, because he lets Lance get away with that, kissing him to shut him up, to feel his laughter right up close. It’s sparks flying and warmth spreading and heart slowing, and in the gentle darkness of the night.

It’s the promise of more to come.

#i just love writing simp keith genuinely. ANS FIRST LANCE APPEARANCE IN THE HANA VERSE #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #klance #lance #lance mcclain #established klance #soft klance #whipped keith #broganes #keith & shiro #dad shiro #hana shirogane #baby hana #hana verse #my writing #longpost #banter

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Oscar Piastri 🥵🧡

With highschool sweetheart trope

Please and thank you ☺️☺️🫶🏻

FOR FOREVER. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

on your first day of high school, you had been seated next to a floppy haired, awkward looking boy called oscar. for a few weeks, neither of you spoke to each other. then, he asked about a homework assignment and you helped him out. it wasn’t until junior year that he finally asked you out, despite pining over you for two years. since then, you’d been inseparable.

your camera roll history was filled with the timeline of your relationship. study dates, prom night, graduation, his formula two podiums, his first day in formula one, every time he flew out to visit you.

you’d fallen in love when you were both seventeen years old, and you’d been together ever since. twenty—one now and still head over heels. you’d been with oscar from the start of his career, but being so far apart from each other made it difficult. you persevered, as much a you could, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out on a little piece of his life.

oscar’s birthday had fallen right in the middle of the racing season, and just in time for the australian grand prix. he was home to celebrate with you and everyone that he loved. able to sleep in your arms every night for a whole week, back where everything began.

like always, his mother was throwing a backyard birthday party for all of the family and friends — even all of the drivers. you had put on oscar’s favourite dress of yours and baked him the cake that he loved. he hadn’t been able to leave you alone all afternoon, his hand glued to your waist, showing you off to everyone he could.

“guys, can i get your attention for a second?”

oscar’s voice pulls you away from lando’s fourth story about your boyfriend, everyone looking to where he stands at the top of the garden. charles passes you the drink he’d left to get you a while ago, sitting on the deckchair next to you.

“i just wanted to thank you all really quickly for coming,” oscar smiles, his mum standing next to him. you can tell she’s made him make this speech, the sheepishness in his eyes making you stifle a giggle. “and to my mum, for putting all of this together. i’m so glad i get to bring all the parts of my life together.”

he goes on a little longer, something about work and being home, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. he looks adorable, back in the australian sun with a birthday badge pinned to his shirt (his little cousin’s doing). oscar’s eyes find yours in the small crowd and he softens, heart swelling.

“and i have to give special thanks to my darling y/n,” oscar raises his glass towards you. any awkwardness is gone from his speech—giving, completely relaxed when it’s you he’s looking at. all eyes turn to you then, but you barely notice. oscar is all you see, every moment of every day.

“she’s put up with me for almost five years, and i couldn’t be more grateful. and she’s going to hate me for pointing her out like this — but, baby, i love you. you’ve been my rock, my heart, my biggest support through everything. even my weird, spotty, puberty stage. thank you, truly. i can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.”

everybody’s clapping and you can feel your eyes stinging with tears, but you don’t care. your feet carry you across the garden, pressing your lips softly to his. it gains a few jests from the drivers, but you’re too busy smiling up at your lover.

“happy birthday, sweetheart.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k! #🌙 ﹐ drabbles. #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff

[yellow-berrys]

december boy, losing joy | sirius black x fem!reader

summary: rockstar!sirius black proposing to you, and the show that made him realise he would do it. established relationship.

warnings: none, allusions to a rough childhood and mention of cigarettes

(a/n: song in this drabble is original <3, really just a bit of prose italicised!)

“This next song is about a girl,” James fiddles with the knobs on his guitar, his voice cracking through the microphone. The crowd screams. 

“That’s right, Prongs,” Sirius grins from his place at the piano, “My girl. My biggest motivation and even though she might not be my biggest fan, I certainly am hers,” he takes a swig of water. 

He sweeps a glance around the arena, girls at the front drinking beer, some girls waving their undergarments at him, some guys drinking beer, some guys waving their undergarments at him. Some look envious and disappointed. Some are “awhhh”ing. 

He catches your eye in the VIP box, you grinning, barely visible as you stare at him. 

“And you’d be surprised that Sirius did pick up a pen and a book for this,” Remus drawls from his position at the bass.

“She’s certainly special enough,” Sirius looks up at you and winks, “Many of you might’ve heard it on the radio. Remus likes to call it “a lover’s musings” but I call it “December Boy, Losing Joy.” Yells and shouts echo as Sirius removes his earpiece. His eyes widen as he hears the noise and he puts it back in. You smile. You love seeing your boyfriend in his element. 

A bra is thrown onto the stage and someone yells, “Pick it up!”

“Sorry people, but I’m taken. Remember, I haven’t done it since ever.”

“No need to be jealous either,” Remus quips into his microphone, “Loving a two year old is harder than it sounds.”

“Hey!”

“Right, boys. We good to go?” James asks.

“Ready.”

James taps a hollow beat on his guitar slowly. The audience is quiet for once, as if instructed to do so. Remus starts strumming his bass, pick moving slowly as the sounds reverberate around the room. The tune is sweet and pleasant. You tap your foot slowly to it up in the box. Unknowingly, Lily is filming your reaction to it. You look down and follow the lyrics on the little card given to you by Sirius, waiting for him to begin. His eyes are closed, light illuminating his high cheekbones. You look at him like he’s your whole world and more.

He starts playing too. The melody is a toned down version of the Pop-esque one that you’ve listened to on Spotify so many times. You never knew the song was about you, thinking it was Remus’ penning or James’ tribute to Lily. But it’s beautiful. It’s also acoustic, you think, it gives the song a certain ethereal, timeless quality. Combined with your boyfriend with his hair up, eyelashes so long, eyes sparkling, you think this must be heaven. 

Sirius’ deep voice is angelic. “I was a December boy / Losing joy,” he sings. The crowd wave their phones to and fro, “Pretending I smoked cigarettes / Pretending I had no regrets.”

“Never one to be semantic / Always crude, brutal, unromantic,” The lyrics, now that you’ve thought about it, are undeniably Sirius’. 

“I was stone cold / And standing on my future’s threshold,” he smiles, “I was an incorrigible man / Shortening lifespan. My excuse was that I’m young / In years I haven’t spoken my mother tongue,” the crowd sings along.  

You hope the photographer they’ve hired is taking photos, because the warm spotlight illuminates where happy tears stain his porcelain skin. 

“December boy / Losing joy / Saying I’ll leave this town / Never wanting to settle down / December boy / Cast iron alloy / Wasn’t one who loved enough / Always trying to call your bluff.” 

“You were picture perfect / An idyllic circus,” you smile, idyllic, you had taught him that word, “Sweeping December clean / Smothering my burning gasoline / Never condescending of my ways / Lustrous, beaming gaze / What more, you cherish my past / Saying you don’t mind being my last / And you love the parts of me which I don’t / You tell me you will never leave me, you won’t.”

“I was a maximalist before I knew you / Rings on every finger, clouded world view / But you became my everything and now I need nothing more / And I told you this when you were unsure / Pretty thing / Please never leave me wondering / Where you are / I’m just a man without you, not a rockstar.”

“December boy / Losing joy.”

You sing along, reading the words, until there’s a diversion of them. You flip the card, but there are only lyrics to other songs there. The mood turns brighter.

“I was a December boy / Wearing black corduroy / Never one to be semantic / Now I’m a hopeless romantic / Not afraid of drowning in love anymore / Because my boat has arrived at your shore.”

“I tell everyone I’m going to marry you / Down Pleasant Crescent near Lover’s Avenue,” The crowd yells and shouts, “And this isn’t a proposal / You deserve one that is more than ambrosial,” he grins up at you, eyes smudged with adoration. 

“And I cannot believe / Heart stealing thief / That I was once a December boy / Losing joy.” 

The song goes viral. Everywhere on the internet you can see the tag #decemberboy, and the Marauders, however popular they already are, grow their fanbase tenfold. Sirius records the alternate version of the song again and he names it “December Boy, Losing Joy (Her Version)”.

The PR manager is very impressed, and gives all the boys a holiday. Remus goes home to see his old flame, James takes Lily on a trip to Honolulu and you and Sirius stay home. You’ve talked about getting married, and both of you are very keen on it. It’s just that Sirius is busy most of the time and the opportunity hasn’t ever arisen. But Sirius secretly has a ring picked out for you, one that he’s seen you look at when you think he wasn’t watching you at the mall. Lily has sent him the video of you beaming when marriage came up in his song, so he thinks you definitely like the idea. 

Lily and James should arrive the Sunday after, you learn, but they’re coming home earlier. Remus is already back but re-doing his house. 

Sirius comes into the room where you’re tapping on your computer, “Do you want to go on a date, pretty? The restaurant near the beach?”

Your cheeks heat up, “Now?” 

“When else?” He laughs, and he’s already wearing a suit. It clings to his body in all the right ways and makes you flustered and hot. His eyes gaze at you intensely. 

“Everything okay, lovely?” He stoops down to curl a stray lock of hair back. You’re still a blushing idiot in front of him, after all these years. 

“Yeah,” you choke out, leaving quickly, “I’ll get dressed.”

You had bought a new dress just a few weeks before, Remus’ old flame begging you to go date night shopping with her. 

You slip it on, getting ready with the aim to look date-able. Grabbing your things, you meet Sirius in the walk-in-closet, where he’s studying his ties intricately. He turns in greeting and he smiles cheesily, “Wow.” He’s blushing now too.

He picks out one that matches your dress. 

“You’re really, really beautiful,” he says as you tie his tie for him. 

You look up at him bashfully, “Just tryna catch up with you, handsome.”

“You don’t need to catch up with me, beautiful.”

All the way to the restaurant, he’s tense. He feels your small hand on his thigh, patting him. 

“You okay, Siri?”

“Yeah.”

His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, and his knuckles turn white. 

“Are you sure, honey?”

You’re so sweet he almost wants to ask you here. Even though the ring is still in Remus’ pocket. But he forces a smile, “Great.” 

Sirius is not normally this tense, but the meal is nice and he’s perfect. Instead of leading you back to the car, he pads onto the sand nearby, “You coming?”

“Shoes, Siri, shoes.” 

You sit down and he takes them off for you, holding them. 

“Why are we here?” 

“The view is nice, I thought you’d appreciate it.” 

“It is.”

You bask in the worldliness of it all. You miss Remus approaching quietly and handing Sirius the ring, having mastered the art of slinking away. It’s only when you see all of your friends approaching, a camera in every second person’s hand, when you frown. You turn to Sirius. He’s looking at you like he’s infatuated, and shakily gets down on one knee, dropping your shoes and taking your hands into his. Is this really about to happen? 

“My love, I love you with all my heart and I promised to give you a proposal more than ambrosial so here it is. These last few years have made me realise that I want to spend the rest of my life with you by my side and let everyone else know that too. I want to love you as much as I can, and I want you to be with me in everything that I do, everywhere I go. Will you continue making me the happiest man in the world and marry me? Please?” 

The delivery is short and sweet, Sirius’ way of doing things. You grin, throwing your arms around him. 

“Yes. Yes!” 

Sirius breaks out into a big smile, and slides the ring you had been marvelling at the other day on your finger. 

He lifts you and kisses you, deep and passionate and loving. Your friends cheer. 

You spend the rest of the night on the beach with your December boy, finding joy. 

#sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius x you #fluff #lily evans x reader #lily evans x you #harry potter #marauders #the marauders #padfoot #padfoot x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus x you #remus x reader #hogwarts #gryffindor #reader insert #marlene mckinnon #marlene mckinnon x reader #james potter x you #james potter x reader #james potter #rockstar!sirius black

[dokidokitsuna]

Goldilocks in Grimmland

This is so, so premature...but my muses have been with me from start to finish on this idea and I adore it, so I'm talking about it now! :D

So in the RWBY NeverFell AU, Yang's little mishap during the Vytal Festival actually follows her around for quite a while; with pretty much everyone but her closest friends whispering behind her back about what she did to Mercury. This is very isolating and frustrating for her, especially since she knows from Ruby's eye-witness account that Merc was definitely faking his injury. She's determined to figure out how and why she saw that illusion, and also kinda wants revenge against Mercury for low-key ruining her life. ^^; And her investigation eventually leads her back to him...except, he looks a bit different now. Shocked by his Grimmification and eager to know more, she dives even deeper into the mystery.

Unfortunately, by this time, Salem has arrived at Beacon, parking her giant whale outside the premises similarly to the way she did in Volume 8. ^^ And upon landing, it creates a Grimm-based ecosystem-- a dark forest that gradually spreads outwards the longer it stays there, only adding to the population of Grimm overrunning the area. That's a whole other issue, that the rest of Team RWBY will probably be helping with. For Yang, it's mostly just a giant hindrance to her investigation. She's got suspicions about Mercury (and knowing he's a silver-eyed warrior, suspicions about her deceased mother) and she's sure that the answers are somewhere in that Grimm-whale. But with the death-forest of Grimm surrounding it, it seems impossible for her to get there.

Until, she remembers she knows someone with a semblance that's perfect for the job. ^^

+++

There are several reasons why I love this idea: it gives Yang the spotlight for once in her life; it makes Mercury relevant; it provides an opportunity to get members of the main cast close to Salem.

But the biggest one is: IT GIVES ME AN EXCUSE TO USE REN!!!!! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

I've always loved Lie Ren; like Penny, he's one of those characters who's just impossible to screw up (in basic concept, anyway...). Across RWBY's many adaptations and spinoffs, he's always adorable and always looks cool in combat.

The only problem with him, and the reason I've rarely spoken about him, is that...people don't seem to care about him?? ;_; Specifically, in the source material, he's given so little to do that there just isn't much of a reason to care about him. He barely has any motivations that don't boil down to some variant of "protect Nora". Even Nora herself is given character connections and talking points outside of "her man", but Ren has no one and nothing else. He gets a couple episodes of spotlight in Volume 4, and that's it for the whole series. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I mean, just think about this: Ren is the only member of the main cast who doesn't have a character song. o_o Look it up, it's true. I had to look it up just to make sure, because I found it appalling...this is a character who was originally voiced by the creator of the show; why is he such an afterthought???

So I decided, if I don't like this, I gotta do right by him in NeverFell, somehow. And it was REALLY hard to think of a place to put him, until I suddenly struck gold with this idea. ^^ Yang's little 'detective story arc' had been a thing for a while, and although I wanted her to be separate from Team RWBY, I never really liked the idea of her being alone. A character like her works best with someone to bounce off, and Ren's coolness is a great contrast for her bubbly personality.

Plus, I think putting Ren in a position like this could service him, too: not only does it give me an opportunity to add his semblance, backstory, and maybe even a Nuckelavee fight to the plot in the absence of a V4 timeline; it could give him a chance to "flesh himself out" the way Nora did in V7. Y'know, allow him to really connect with someone besides Nora-- and then, maybe seeing how similar-yet-different Yang is to his childhood friend is what'll get him to realize that he's never done this before. That maybe he's stuck to the familiar dynamic of that early relationship for so long, that there are different sides of his own personality that he's forgotten about. Sides that are coming out now that he's on this new adventure, with a new friend~.

#now this #this I might ship a little bit #i do love rarepairs #rwby #yang xiao long #lie ren #I LOVE how these designs came out

[lewmagoo]

the blessed dawn of christmas day | b. bradshaw

description: in which you give your husband the most precious gift of all

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, no smut but still 18+ because all my works are rated as such

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f!reader (no use of y/n)

notes: oh no, another work i recycled from my old blog. anyway, i love the thought of bradley as a girl dad. you're welcome. also, this is the beginning of my holiday series. who knows how long or short the series will be, but you can expect at least a few more holiday pieces from now until christmas

Christmas morning was a morning that brought with it many different and unique sounds. Familiar sounds, sounds that made your heart swell with love and your lips curl into the biggest of smiles.

This morning, in particular, your ears were picking up on a few things. First was the sound of your husband snoring softly beside you, still sound asleep after a late night of wrapping presents with you. Second, was the sound of not-so-hushed whispering coming from outside your bedroom door.

"Mm, sounds like the littles are awake," a sleep-laced voice murmured against the back of your neck, followed by soft lips ghosting over the skin. You shivered from the contact, but at the same time, it warmed you from your head to your toes. 

"I'd say you're right," you replied, shifting to face him. There lay Bradley, in all his messy-haired, rosy-cheeked, skin-wrinkled-from-the-sheets glory. His face broke into a smile before he leaned in to kiss you sweetly, his mustache biting at your upper lip.

"Good morning, darlin’," he hummed against your mouth.

You snuggled deeper into his chest. "Good morning." You glanced at the door then. "Suppose we should let the beasts in," you teased.

“What if I don’t want to let you go?” He mumbled, tightening his grasp on you.

“They’ll probably head to the living room and start on the presents themselves,” you said.

He squinted at the door before nodding. “You’re probably right. Guess we should let them in.”

As you rose from the bed, Bradley closed his eyes, pretending to remain sound asleep as three very excited little girls bounded into the room.

Bradley began to dramatically snore, and squeals of laughter filled the room. "Daddy, Daddy, wake up!" Daisy, your youngest, exclaimed as she jumped onto the bed, roughly shaking his shoulder.

At that point, Bradley had all three of his girls piled on top of him. "You're pretending!" Caroline, the oldest, huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

Suddenly, their father cracked an eye open, and then gasped theatrically. "Wow! What brings you three to my bed so early in the morning?!"

Another fit of giggles, followed by the middle child, Grace, shouting, "it's Christmas!"

"Is it really?! Since when?" Bradley asked in surprise, dark eyes widening in shock.

"Since right now!" Daisy yelled, climbing into his lap and cupping his face in her little hands. Bradley smiled brightly at her, his own much larger hands coming up to rest over her own. 

The entire time, you silently watched the exchange, your heart warming at the sight of your family. Watching Bradley interact with his babies would never get old.

"Can we open presents now?" Grace questioned, nearly head-butting her sister as she jumped into Bradley’s lap.

Umber eyes flickered up to your own. "What do ya say, Momma?" he asked you.

"Give me a few minutes, let me make sure everything is set up," you mused, stopping to grab your robe from the bedpost, pulling it on as you headed out into the hall, strolling into the living room.

You paused to turn on the tree lights before making sure all the gifts were set out properly, all while listening to the over-excited laughter and talking that came from down the hall. You couldn't help but grow a little overcome with emotion.

Since your children had come into your lives, Christmas had gained a new meaning. It was no longer about you and Bradley. It was about them, seeing Christmas through their eyes. The joy and excitement it brought them made everything all worth it. There was something so innocent and pure about the way a child experienced Christmas, and even more so with your own kids.

Snapping yourself out of your slight daze, you carried on with your project, spreading out last-minute presents, and stopping to smile to yourself when you came across a small, neatly wrapped box, with a tag that read Bradley’s name. Your tummy fluttered with butterflies. Or maybe that was the little life that now dwelled there. Either way, you couldn't wait to present him with the gift, because you knew it would be the best gift he'd receive this Christmas.

Placed so carefully inside the box was a pair of baby slippers. You'd gotten them when you'd first found out that you were having another baby. They were the first present you wrapped, and the little package had been tucked away in your closet, and you’d been teeming with excitement ever since, so eager to give it to him.

There had been so many moments when you'd wanted to cave and just tell him already, but you'd forced yourself to keep your lips sealed. You wanted this to be special. It was unexpected, after all. You hadn't been trying for a baby. In fact, you hadn't even been talking about it at all, you’d decided you were done having children after Daisy was born. However, you really hadn’t taken any serious measures to prevent it, aside from taking birth control. So you weren’t entirely shocked when the pregnancy test you’d bought at the drugstore came back positive. 

But the news, when you'd received it, had been welcome. And you knew Bradley would be overjoyed, just like you were. He loved being a father, and would happily welcome another little one into your family.

"Mommy, can we come in yet?!" Came the voice of Daisy. Quickly, you knelt down to shove Bradley’s present to the very back of the tree before standing up and heading to the hallway.

"Yes you may," you announced, and within all of five seconds, the living room was overrun by squealing little girls. Your husband came strolling in behind them, smiling at you and hugging your waist as he kissed your forehead before joining the girls around the tree.

"Okay," he said aloud, "let's see who these presents are for."

As he began handing them out, you took a seat on the couch, watching fondly as he read the name tags dramatically. "To Caroline from Mommy and Daddy," he started, handing the oldest her gift, "to Grace from Mommy and Daddy…to Daisy from Mommy and Daddy…to Grace from Mommy and Daddy..." And so it went.

Once every present was passed out, save for the presents that you both would exchange together after the children opened their own, Bradley came to sit next to you and said, "alright, youngest first. Daisy, go ahead and open your present, baby doll."

With a musical laugh, she eagerly tore into the present that had once been neatly wrapped, discarding the paper carelessly and gasping in surprise when she saw the contents. "A baby!" She cried, holding up the packaged baby doll, a wide grin on her little face. "It’s what I always wanted!"

You laughed at her dramatic exclamation, settling into Bradley’s side as you watched your girls unwrap their presents. Grace was next, opening up a box of Disney princess themed crayons. She beamed, gasping out a "thank you!" Always the little artist, she loved coloring, painting, and everything of the sort.

Caroline was next in the rotation, opening her present of a holiday Barbie, at which her face lit up and she grinned up at you and Bradley. "This is the best! Thanks!"

“You’re welcome, baby,” you replied with a smile, your heart swelling at the sight of your children’s delight.

You cuddled up into your husband's side, humming softly as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You watched your girls tear into the rest of their presents, giggling and shouting and making a mess of the living room. The sight was beautiful, though, and you wouldn't trade it for anything in the entire world.

The morning carried on, present after present opened and strewn across the floor. And once they were all opened, Bradley finally stood, stepping around the tree, where one last present was hidden, covered in a large throw blanket. "Girls, come help Daddy with this," he said, not bothering to hide the smile on his face. 

You immediately reached for your phone, intending to photograph this moment that the girls would likely remember for the rest of their lives.

Three little ones came rushing to help their father, and when the blanket was pulled off of the large object, more shrill exclamations of delight erupted, spurred on by the sight of an elaborate dollhouse that your sweet Bradley had spent hours putting together over the last few days, losing sleep in the process. "It's worth it for them," he'd said, when you expressed concern over his lack of sleep.

You watched it all unfold, and laughed in delight as Bradley was nearly tackled to the floor as the girls attacked him with hugs and kisses and thank yous. Once he was finally able to escape the small dog pile under which he’d been trapped, he rose to stand, and glanced over at you, a beam on his handsome face.

“Your daddy built that for you all by himself,” you informed the girls, which only further impressed them.

“You’re the best daddy in the whole wide world!” Grace exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his waist. Promptly, she pulled away to join her sisters as they explored the creation their father had given them.

You sauntered over to Bradley and leaned in to kiss him sweetly. "You did good, Daddy," you said, placing your hands on his chest. His own hands came to rest over yours, warm and familiar.

"Thanks, Momma."

"Want some coffee?"

"I think you know the answer to that question," he mused with a laugh, the smile lines around his eyes crinkling.

"That I do," you replied, soon pulling away from him to stroll into the kitchen. As you did so, Bradley was then bombarded with little girls wanting their toys taken out of their packages. Moments later, he came ambling into the kitchen in search of scissors and box cutters before disappearing back into the living room. He most certainly had his work cut out for him.

Shaking your head, you started on the coffee, setting out two Christmas mugs while it brewed. You didn't worry about starting on breakfast, because Bradley would do that a little later, as he always did on Christmas morning and had since you'd known him.

Minutes later, you came back into the living room with two cups of hot coffee, with yours fixed as you liked it, and Bradley’s black. You laughed at the sight you were met with as you set his coffee on the end table beside him. He was seated on the couch, fumbling with Daisy’s baby doll box as he tried to free the doll without damaging it.

There was garbage all around his feet. Boxes and zip ties and instruction papers. He was extremely focused on the task at hand, tongue sticking out in concentration as he cut and tore at the box.

"Why do they make these things so damn hard to open?" He grumbled.

"Daddy said a bad word!" Grace exclaimed, concern written over her face.

You tried to hide your smile, looking down at your husband as he paused what he was doing. "You're right, I'm sorry," he apologized. Grace immediately forgot about the offense as she began playing with her toys again.

Finally, Bradley got the doll out of its packaging and handed it to Daisy, who promptly hugged it to her chest happily and went to play with her sisters. Bradley let out a breath, falling back against the couch once the last package was finished, but not before grabbing his warm mug of much-needed coffee.

"Always forget how much of a pain in the you-know-what packages are to open," he huffed out, and you only smiled.

"At least they're enjoying their toys." You curled into his side again, coffee clasped in your hands. For a few moments, you sat together, enjoying your coffee and watching the girls play.

"Well, guess I should go start on breakfast," he mused, reluctantly pulling away from you in order to head to the kitchen. As he did so, Caroline came rushing up to you, sitting in Bradley's previous spot.

She held her Barbie in hand, showing it to you. "Look at the pretty headband she has," she softly spoke, marveling at the intricate tiara in the Barbie’s hair.

You reached out to run a finger over the doll's head. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you for the gifts, Mommy," she reiterated, kissing your cheek. Always the polite one, and always the momma's girl.

You kissed her forehead, brushing some of her sleep-mussed hair aside and gazing into her beautiful face. Oh, how she looked like her father. "You're welcome, baby girl."

"I am hungry!" Daisy suddenly announced, standing in the middle of the living room. Directly following, you could hear her stomach growl.

Giggling softly, you stood, lifting her into your arms. At four, she was still small enough to be carried. But you knew in a few months you would no longer be able to do so, because a pregnant belly would get in the way.

"Let's go see what Daddy is making." You flounced into the kitchen, bouncing Daisy on your hip as you went, finding Bradley dutifully putting breakfast together, topped off with a red apron tied around him that had a Christmas tree embroidered into it.

Right at your heels were Grace and Caroline, curious as to what they would be having for breakfast. "Daddy, I wanna help," Grace announced, skipping up to him. Bradley smiled down at her, his eyes twinkling.

"Pull your stool over to stand on and you can help me all you want, baby doll."

Happily, she rushed to the corner of the kitchen, where a little red stool was placed, for occasions such as this. She carried it over, and once it was in place, stood proudly on top of it, eager to help her daddy with breakfast.

"Can we turn on some music?" Caroline asked as she sat at the kitchen table.

"We sure can," you told her, setting Daisy down before leaving the room. The record player Bradley had insisted you get when you were first married, sat in the living room, and beside it was a collection of vinyls. Your Christmas rotation was out currently, and you decided on a classic Nat King Cole Christmas album.

Once the music was playing, you rejoined your family in the kitchen, and the relaxed morning commenced, filled with more giggles, the sounds and scents of food cooking, and impatient children asking when breakfast would be ready.

You set the table while Bradley put the finishing touches on breakfast. You owned a special set of Christmas china that had belonged to his mother, used annually for this particular morning.

Once everything was set up, the five of you sat around the table to eat. The girls, anxious to resume playing with their toys, ate fast, so much so that you had to tell each of them to slow down.

"Mommy, can I go now?" Daisy asked you from across the table, eyes wide with anticipation.

"What do we say when we want to get up from the table?" Bradley asked her, raising an eyebrow. You were still in the process of teaching her proper table manners.

"Um..." She thought for a moment before a lightbulb went off. "Oh! May I be excused?"

"Yes, you may."

Then she was darting away from the table, dashing right back to the living room. The older girls both minded their manners, asking to be excused before running after their sister. Bradley looked at you then, a glimmer in his eyes. "You alright?" He asked, out of habit.

"Never better," you responded, rising from the table and pausing to kiss the top of his head before you began the project that was cleaning off the table. You left the dishes in the sink for later before heading to the living room together, ready to exchange gifts while the girls played.

You sat across from each other on the couch, legs crossed beneath you. A silly little tradition you'd started a few years back was writing cute nicknames on each name tag. Things like To: Mister, From: Missus, To: Beautiful, From: Handsome, and so on. It was cheesy, you knew, but you loved doing it.

The gifts he gave you were wonderful. A perfume you loved, a beautiful necklace with the birthstones of each of your children on the charms, a cozy sweater, and little bits and baubles he'd picked up in his travels with you in mind. You'd spoiled him with just as much, if not a little more.

Once all your gifts were exchanged, and thank yous spoken, you stopped him before he could clean up all the wrappings. "Wait, I have one more present," you murmured, gently grasping his wrist.

His eyes twinkled with curiosity as you rose from the couch. "One more? You've already spoiled me so much, darlin’," he stated, watching you flit across the living room, kneeling down to reach way behind the tree.

You emerged with that small box, wrapped so neatly in metallic paper. Bradley didn't miss the excitement in your eyes or the knowing smile on your face. He eyed you as you placed the box in his hand. "What did you do?" He asked, playfully suspicious.

You sat down across from him again, nodding at him. "Open it."

Gaze lingering on you for a moment longer, he then began tearing open the paper, a little too slow for your taste. In fact, you were certain he was opening it slowly on purpose.

But then, he lifted the lid, and the contents inside were revealed. He was silent as he tossed the paper aside. He looked down at the little box in his hand, and his fingers gingerly traced over the fabric of the little shoes.

You watched him, waiting for his reaction. When he finally looked back up at you, there were tears shining in his beautiful eyes. It was clear that he knew what it meant. “You’re pregnant?”

You smiled, your own eyes welling with tears. “I sure am.”

He glanced down at the shoes again before looking back up at you. "We get to have another one?" He whispered in awe. It made your heart clench in your chest as you nodded, your own eyes glossing over at how precious it all was.

He laughed then, airily, though the knot in his throat hindered it. "Another one." It was as if he couldn’t believe it.

"Yeah," you whispered, letting the tears slip down your cheeks then, freely and unabashedly. "Another one."

You watched this strong, beautiful man grow overcome with emotion in front of you, and he took you into his arms, crying quietly against your neck. However, the precious moment was interrupted by a little voice, riddled with concern.

"Mommy, Daddy, why are you crying?"

Together, you laughed and parted to look at a very fearful Grace. "Come here, baby," you said, patting your lap. At this point, the attention of Daisy and Caroline had also been called, and they both came wandering over quietly.

You wrapped your arms around Grace, turning slightly to face the other two girls as Bradley spoke. "We're crying happy tears. Mommy is going to have another baby."

At his words, the faces of your daughters lit up. "A baby?" Caroline whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes, a baby."

She began clapping in excitement then, while Daisy climbed up onto the couch, taking a spot in Bradley’s lap. "Where is the baby?" She curiously asked. Her father smiled, leaning down to rest his chin on her little shoulder.

"The baby is in Mommy's tummy."

It was her turn to grow wide-eyed, and she gasped, crawling over to you. She touched her hand to your stomach, not even showing yet. "In here?"

"Yes, safe and warm," you gently said.

"When will it come out?"

"In about nine months."

You sat there for a while, talking to your three awestruck daughters, and answering their childlike questions. You glanced up at Bradley in the midst of it all, and you found him gazing at you with such adoration, you were almost brought to tears again.

"I love you," he sincerely spoke over the hushed voices of your children. He couldn't imagine a better person to be the mother of his children. He would never understand how he'd gotten so lucky. If only his mom and dad could see him now. They’d be so proud.

"And I love you."

That Christmas went down as one of the sweetest Christmases you'd ever experienced as a family. You knew you would never forget the joy it had brought, and you were eternally thankful that you had been so blessed with a wonderful husband and three, soon-to-be-four, precious daughters. You would never take those blessings for granted, that was for certain. 

(As it would turn out, you would soon find out that you were expecting another girl, giving Bradley the permanent title of Girl Dad.)

-

taglist:

@halfway-happyyy @natasharomanoffisbaebby @oliviabelova @robertbobfloydlover @supernaturaldawning @marrianena @mys2425 @n3ssm0nique @ice-mans-world @lovemesomevesey @straightforwardly @mochi-de-bisou @christinafaucher @emmmaturtle @fantasias-creativebubble @worldmadeofmemories @tarohemianrocketmanapsody @m0chac0ffee @not-leaprvt @i-simp-much @soaharleys @colorfultyrantearthquake @obxsuperfan07 @juniebugg @marchingicenotes7 @airedale17 @jamiedontbeacracko @monosjoons @dilfsandtherapy @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @unluckymonaghan @utterly-in-like @chxosunbound @thesewordsareallihavetogive @unordinare @currentlybradshaw @elevens-strangerthing @the-hottest-lieutenants @glodessa @peachiestkeen @alexxavicry @cherrycola27

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fanfiction

[raayllum]

Was thinking about the Gifts scene because it was one of my favourites and has made me cry every time, thus far, and something that stuck out to me the first time has now collected more thoughts, in terms of parallels and parental relationships. 

Ezran and Rayla both sacrifice something in remembrance to their fathers. For Ezran, it’s the symbol of him finding a way to both honour his father’s memory and take a better path than he did. The way they worked his short story and musings over his father’s sword directly into the show was delightful and heartfelt. Ezran acknowledges that the crown isn’t made of precious metals or bearing special jewels, but it carries an emotional weight and shows his humility and his own strength as a king. It says just as much about Ezran as it does about Harrow, if not arguably more.  

Then you have Rayla stepping up first (was anyone else relieved she wasn’t offering herself up to be eaten?) and arguably with the biggest sacrifice. As she says, these blades are all she has to remember Ethari and Runaan, two of her parents, by. Unlike Ezran, who shares in his grief with Callum and the rest of the council about Harrow, there is no one left who remembers Ethari and Runaan the way she does and did. There are no more family heirlooms waiting for her. She can’t even truly go back to where they raised her.

Ezran gives up something he had crafted in Harrow’s memory, and Rayla gives up the one and final gift her fathers gave to her, her most constant companions in the two years she was gone, and her last line of defense.

Then you have Callum, who offers up Ibis’ staff. Now, Callum’s statement here is still meaningful. The staff here has been incredibly helpful, he’s presumably seen Ibis more than a few times over the past few years with Ezran and Zym assumedly visiting regularly, Ibis taught him the spell he uses the most this season and the one that let him save Rayla. But it’s hardly a parent-child bond or even a mentor-mentee bond. 

So what does Callum have from a parent? Well... the Key of Aaravos, really. He has his sketchbook, which is full of spells Rex Igneous would never be interested in (it’s not even his primal) and he has this magical, mystical key that unlocks something of great power. And I want to write a bigger post about how I think it relates to his identity and sense of self worth as a mage as well, but I do think given we see Callum lighting a candle for Harrow and that it’s attached to Harrow’s letter as it is, as well as some things Callum’s VA, Jack De Sena has said, in addition to this panel from TTM:

J: [Regarding trauma and growing up]  I think that’s part of, just to speak to like, right, season four stuff, that’s part of the I think some of the anger he holds about Rayla leaving is that like, “we went through all this really intense stuff together and that—like, I’m cut off from that, in some ways.” T: Yeah. J: This—this person who you shared that with is gone, and—

Through The Moon makes it clear that Callum hasn’t moved on from grieving Harrow, if indeed you can ever quite let a grief like that go in the first place. We know from 4x03 that Ezran likewise still feels hurt, pain, and anger regarding the death of their parents, but he also had Callum to mourn with, other people to remember with, and Zym most of all as a silver lining. 

We know from 4x01 he’s been quietly but actively grieving Rayla for a while now, too, and then she shows up. It’s clear that Callum has emotionally closed himself off in her absence and in her return (seriously, did anyone ever have to prompt him into talking in s1-s3?) which makes sense, since over the course of their journey she became his main confidant and peer. But, as Jack de Sena noted, he was cut off from that. His grieving stagnated in more ways than one because he couldn’t precisely move on, even before she left, never mind after.

Now he’s a loose end, frayed and jagged, still grieving in multiple ways. And with the coins now in Rayla’s possession, S5 may force him to confront just how not okay with Harrow’s death he still is in some ways, now that freeing his father’s killer is something he’ll both want and loathe to help with, in addition to being further entrenched in Aaravos’ schemes. 

What will Callum hold onto, and what will he let go of?

#tdp callum #brotp: we're in this together #the royal family of katolis #moon fam #parallels #analysis series #4x08 #arc 1 #arc 2 #s4 #s4 spoilers #analysis #don't know if this is as articulate / if i actually expressed everything i want to but #this is the bulk of it at least #tdp #the dragon prince #callum #rayllum #multi #tdp spoilers #tdp meta

[ladykailitha]

Oh For a Muse of Fire! Part 16

All right my lovelies we have a proper count for how long this going to be. 17 parts with a epilogue. So by Tuesday this story will be done. I am so grateful for everyone who has commented and reblogged this story every time a new part has come out. You know who you are. I love each of you!!

This is it, the part everyone has been waiting for. The boys finally get their heads out of their asses. Yay!!! (Insert Kermit the frog arm waving gif here). A little Buckingham, too. ;) The next part is a little spicy (no actual sex is shown but Steve and Eddie do get naked). And then a super soft epilogue.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15

*

Gareth was on the phone with their agent when Eddie arrived for practice. Jeff was pacing and Brian was in the corner with his head in his hands.

Eddie skidded to a stop and opened his mouth to ask when Gareth said, “Yeah, yeah, they’re all here. Yeah one second.” And he hit a button on his phone.

“Can everybody here me?” the agent asked.

All of them chorused the affirmative.

“Great,” the agent said, his voice dripping on the edge of too excited. “I got a call from Upside Down Records, they’re based out of Chicago. And they want you come and record a full album with them in August.”

“I’m going to need you to repeat that,” Jeff said.

“Upside Down Records wants Corroded Coffin to record an album in August.”

“Holy shit!” Gareth breathed. “That’s so awesome.”

Brian coughed, trying to clear his throat. “Did they say why August?”

The agent chuckled. “It’s when their studio will be available. They have a band in there right now. But they have to present their album by the end of June. So August was the earliest they could get you in. But they’re super happy to have you.”

“Thanks, Murray,” Eddie breathed.

“I’ll get started trying to find you guys a place to stay while you’re recording,” Murray said. “It will most likely to be a loft where you all would be staying together.”

“That’s fine...” Jeff stuttered. “That’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “Absolutely.”

“Thanks again,” Eddie said.

“Of course, boys,” Murray said. “Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

Brian let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, yeah you did.”

“Congrats, I mean it,” Murray said. “I couldn’t believe those asshats at the Queen’s Crown both passed on you. And when you guys go platinum I intend to send them black roses.”

That got them laughing.

“There we are,” Murray said. “Now I’ve gotta go. I’ll keep in contact with everyone to let you know how the living arrangement search is going, okay?”

Everyone voiced their agreement and then the call ended.

There was silence for about a minute and then they were jumping and running to give each other hugs.

“We did it!” Eddie screamed.

“I’ve got to call my girlfriend,” Jeff said.

“Yeah,” Gareth said. “I’ve got my own phone calls to make. I think we all do.”

Brian giggled. “I think it’s safe to say that we’re not practicing tonight.”

“No,” Eddie agreed. “But after we make our calls, we are going out to celebrate.”

The other three whooped and cheered.

Eddie called Wayne and Chrissy. If he wiped away a tear after his conversation with his uncle, no he didn’t. He wiped away several. Chrissy on the other hand screamed so loud that the other members stopped and stared at him.

“I love you too,” Eddie said. “But I’m already destined to lose my hearing as a metal artist, can you not, you know, speed up the process?”

She laughed.

After he was done with her he stared at the phone.

Gareth noticed and ended the call he was on with. He walked over to Eddie and put his hand on his shoulder.

“He’ll be happy for you and you know it,” he told Eddie fiercely. “He’s been your biggest cheerleader since the two of you got your heads out of each other’s asses.”

“I know,” Eddie whispered. “I just wish there was a way he could come with us.”

Gareth gave his shoulder a squeeze and went back to the others.

Jeff cleared his throat. “All right, it’s time to party.”

*

Eddie knew he didn’t have to wear something nice to the gala, but he wanted to anyway. He dressed in a nice black button up with a red vest, the shirt only buttoned from the start of the vest, down. He paired it with tight black jeans and his white sneakers. His hair was pulled back with a black, skull-themed bandanna.

He checked in the mirror again, fiddling with his hair for the billionth time. Chrissy had to drag him from his apartment to get him to stop.

Chrissy herself had dressed up, wearing a pink sheath dress with a white cardigan.

When they got the gallery, they were pleased to see that most of the people had dressed up as well and that set Eddie at ease.

He wandered around the gallery drinking punch and eating the refreshments. In the crowd he spotted Chrissy and Robin with their heads together, giggling at something written in the little program they had passed out. Eddie paused for a moment.

Chrissy threw her head back and Robin looked at her with stars in her eyes.

Well that was certainly interesting. He only hoped that Diamond wasn’t against inter-employee relations, because both of those girls were well on their way to being completely smitten with each other.

He spotted the Karen before he spotted the 18+ area. She was screaming that her little crouch goblin had slipped into the adult area and seen the most awful licentious things imaginable. The guard was pointing out that if she hadn’t let him run around unsupervised he wouldn’t have seen those things. The area was clearly marked and behind a purple satin curtain.

And that’s when Eddie spotted it. Yup. Great, big, fucking purple curtain. With banners stating adults only, 18+, enter at your own risk. He slipped in and was pleased to note that inside they also had partitions up separating, nudity, violence, and social commentary (things that didn’t quite fit in the other two, but were sensitive nonetheless. Scenes after an earthquake, children starving, that sort of thing.)

Eddie started there. Most of these were photos from the photography majors. There were a few paintings and one very notable charcoal drawing. He stopped in front of that one for a while. It was of the 1969 Stonewall Riot. It had a ribbon next to it for best depiction of a historical event.

He moved on to the violence section. The pictures of war. The murder of Caesar. And one particularly hilarious scene of the Bible story of Judith slitting the throat of Holofernes with Eddie as the dude getting murdered. He laughed. He supposed the pose could be interpreted that way. Even if it was a bit over the top. He looked closer at the name and then he really started laughing. Michelle Gardener. The bitch that tried to make Steve move from his spot.

His very first rescue of Steve. Before they talked, before they became friends, before they became essential to each other.

And then finally he got to the nudity section. This is where most of Joyce’s classes were located.

Here was Eddie as Morpheus, as Lucifer, as Lysander. But then he got the center piece. It had won best in show. And it was magnificent. The come hither stare, the sheer white drapes opened to reveal his prone form, the gracefulness of the lines. He was enraptured. None of the other artists had painted him like this. This was a declaration of love if there ever was one.

“What do you think?” Steve asked, appearing suddenly at his elbow.

Eddie’s head whipped around to face him. “Holy shit, Steve, it’s beautiful.”

Steve smiled. “I had to keep taking it home so you wouldn’t see it before now. I wanted it to be surprise. I was so tempted to keep it to myself to only let a handful of people to see it. Mrs Byers. Robin. You. But Robin was right, art is meant to be seen. So here it is for everyone to see.”

“She’s always right,” Eddie said with a soft smile.

“I know,” Steve said with a grin. “It’s so annoying.”

They stared at the painting for awhile just admiring Steve’s work, when he spoke.

“Most of these will be auctioned off at a silent auction later tonight, the proceeds will go toward helping disadvantaged youth to get into art,” he murmured.

Eddie looked up at him panicked, point up at their painting. “Is–”

Steve shook his head. “I couldn’t bare the thought of it going to some random stranger. So I dug into my savings at bought it outright. It’s yours, actually. I’m giving it to you.”

Eddie closed his eyes. “Steve...”

Steve took his hand. “Robin kept begging me to tell you. But I was enjoying our time together so much. But I’m not staying in Indiana. I’m leaving for Chicago at the end of July. I’ll be doing my student teaching and getting my teaching certificate for the state of Illinois. So it’s yours. To have something to remember me by. I just hope you’ll come visit me sometime.”

“Oh.” Eddie opened his eyes to see that Steve was on the verge of tears. “Sweetheart, I think it will go nicely in our apartment in Chicago. Unless you already have a place?”

Steve stared at him in shock. “No, no. You can’t follow me to Chicago. You’ve got a life ahead of you here. You guys are on the verge of making it big. I refuse to be the reason you gave up on your dreams.”

Eddie gently took Steve’s face in his hands. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you for about a week now, but I couldn’t because I didn’t want to face the fact that I would be leaving you here in Indy.”

Steve blinked, unable to cock his head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Our manager, Murray Bauman,” he said softly, “called last week. There’s a record label in Chicago that wants us to come and record an album for them in August.”

“You’re moving to Chicago for a record deal?” Steve asked, needing to be sure.

“That’s right, beautiful,” Eddie murmured. “We’re moving on to the same place.”

“Eddie I love you so much,” Steve cried, tears starting to roll down his face.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s. They both melted into the kiss and Steve clung to the back of Eddie’s vest.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered when he pulled away from Steve’s lips.

“Are you sure you want to move in with me?” Steve asked, breathless. “I–”

Eddie cooed gently. “I know it’s fast. I know we had a rough start. But baby, there is no one else I would rather be with then you.”

Steve let out a watery chuckle. “Okay. Yeah.” He looked up into Eddie’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“We have plenty of time,” Eddie said with a soft smile. “We have two and half months to find something that fits both our needs.”

Steve kissed him again. Hard and deep. Like he was trying to let Eddie know every thought and feeling that he kept inside.

When they pulled apart Eddie whispered, “Do you have to stay?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not participating in the auction so I can leave at any time.”

“Great!” Eddie grabbed Steve’s wrist and hauled him through the gallery as he looked for Chrissy and Robin.

When he spotted them, he made a beeline straight for them, Steve struggling to keep up.

“Hello, ladies!” Eddie greeted with a wide grin on his face. He dropped his keys into Chrissy’s hand. “I’m taking my boyfriend home and locking ourselves in my apartment.”

“Eddie!” Steve admonished, but couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face.

“About damn time!” Robin crowed. She gave Steve a big kiss on the cheek.

“Would you make sure to grab my painting before the auction starts?” he asked as he wiped his cheek.

“Absolutely!” she said and then pushed the two of them. “Now shoo!”

Eddie and Steve laughed.

“Don’t forget to use protection!” Chrissy called.

“Back at you, bitch!” Eddie said over his shoulder.

Robin turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Now why would you need to use protection?”

Chrissy batted her eyelashes prettily at her. “Because it’s cleaner, and more fun with a ribbed action.”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Oh. So is that on offer then?”

Chrissy pulled her in for a gut searing kiss.

“That would be a yes,” Robin said dumbly and then kissed her again.

Part 17 Epilogue

@artiststarme @allbymyselfexceptformycactus @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @itsall-taken @m-owo-n @zerokrox-blog @runyousillydetective @grimmfitzz @wonderland-girl143-blog @sapphirecobalt-1 @scheodingers-muppet @victor-thee-corvid @apricottree @bookbinderbitch @sleepyboosstuff @biatcgh @pixiefallingupthestairs @grtwdsmwhr @thepainisspicy @carlyv @eboyawstenn @bisexualdisastersworld @bidisastersworld @abstractnaturaldisaster @evix-syne666 @nerdsconquerall @lololol-1234 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @a-little-unsteddie @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @elluminis @tailsfromthecrypt @danili666 @plyerice27 @alittlegreyfish  @n0-1-important @no-upper-limit-to-stupidity @maya-custodios-dionach @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @heaven428 @thedragonsaunt @ceaselessly-watching @imfinereallyy @messrs-weasley @sharingisntkaren @nohomoyesbi

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #art school au #gay steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #ladykailtiha writes

[yumeka-sxf]

Chapter 75...

I was so looking forward to a tearful reunion between Yor and Anya (since they're my favorite relationship in the series besides Twiyor) and I was not disappointed! ❤ It actually played out exactly as I thought, with Anya finally realizing the weight of what just happened and breaking down into tears before running to Yor (this is also the first time she initiated a hug from Yor instead of the other way around). Guess I got another favorite manga panel now 😭

I had to do a double take when the chapter started with the kids receiving stellas...I was like "are we really gonna skip what happened right after the previous chapter?!" But thankfully we get a flashback that fills in the gaps. I know many of us, including myself, predicted that the kids would get stellas (I personally thought they'd get more, especially Anya, but oh well).

Probably something no one saw coming was the fact that Twilight ended up being at the incident site. I know some people were confused/upset about this, but my interpretation is that he only showed up later, after everything was resolved, and he was not there when the terrorists were actually threatening the kids (I could be proven wrong later of course, but that's what I think as of now). We're told that he "raced" over, so he must have gotten the news from a source besides WISE. It could have been the television broadcast, or an informant like Franky. Plus, knowing Twilight, he probably has means of getting around faster than someone would expect, but he still needed a reasonable amount of time, hence why I don't think he could have been there any sooner than when the incident was wrapping up.

I know people were also disappointed that he reacted as calmly as he did, considering how much danger Anya was in. But I think he's simply still not ready for that level of emotion yet, especially in front of a WISE colleague. Maybe if Yor wasn't already there to comfort Anya, or if he saw exactly what happened on the bus, he would have broken down more. I feel like Twilight having a real emotional outburst (for Anya and/or Yor) would be when the series is heading towards a conclusion, and we're just not there yet. So for now, he's still continuing to spy from the shadows, but I have a feeling we'll get more of his thoughts on the whole matter later.

Another thing I predicted was that this incident would bring Anya and Damian closer - he even gave her compliments and called her a "friend!" Of course he goes all tsundere right after, but it's definitely a big step in their relationship.

And probably the biggest shock was finding out how unhinged Melinda is. At first I was like, "oh, how nice, she's actually a caring mom," but then when she switched...😳

Maybe the trigger for whatever contradictory thoughts she has going on is linked to her husband, since she changed her demeanor as soon as Damian brought him up.

There could still be another chapter or two related to this arc since there are still things yet to be resolved. For example, did Yor realize that she was lied to by Eden about what happened, and also, how does she feel about the perpetrators being Red Circus? And there's still a chance we'll get further reactions from Twilight (again, he's slow with his emotional constipation). We could get a scene of him musing about what happened, and then the impact of how serious it was finally hits him. And then there's Yuri...will he simply recover from his wound off-panel or will he have to spend time recuperating (with the Forgers)? And now we have this whole new development with Melinda. Still so much to look forward to!

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #loid forger #anya forger #yor forger #damian desmond #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers #spy x family spoilers #sxf manga

[sunnebeam]

good for a weekend.

DRABBLE.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (yall know the drill, let's be protected irl), sex against a window, blank space au, chaebol!reader (she has issues), businessman!hoseok, profanity

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: took me a long time to choose the title for this one bc i just realized i already used a blank space lyric for jimin's drabble lol. but anyways here it is! idk the accurate word count but i think this is longer than all my other drabbles so far. enjoy <3 don't forget to share ur thoughts and give feedback ^^

When you were younger, you didn’t really understand why no one wanted to be friends with you.

Apart from your butler Yeonjun (who's paid to put up with your shit but is still genuine in his companionship nonetheless), a paintbrush and a canvas were the only real confidants you had for your pent up frustrations as a child.

Now that you're older, your isolation becomes more self-induced.

"Is it true that she's back together with Kim Taehyung again?”

“No, I heard that her family arranged for her and Park Jimin to marry next year...”

“But wasn't she spotted looking cozy with Jeon Jungkook at a bar last week?”

"No, no, I could've sworn she was hooking up with Min Yoongi—"

"Damn, she's going through men way too fast, don't you think?"

“Honestly, I think she's just a spoiled, rich playgirl."

You sigh, sitting on your chair in the art room of your very own mansion — a gift from your father after he missed out on your eighteenth birthday — while Yeonjun watches you paint your heart out.

“I haven’t seen Kim Seokjin around lately…” he muses as he steps closer to look at your work. By the looks of it, you must be feeling some pretty angry emotions.

“Silly Yeonjun,” you giggle too loudly, hand gripping your brush rather forcefully as you stare at your palette. “Seokjin and I broke up ages ago. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the haircut incident.”

Ah, the haircut incident…

Yeonjun shivers, remembering that outburst all too well. The memory of you hysterically chopping off your hair in a fit of jealousy while Kim Seokjin helplessly tried to get you to stop. That marked the end of your six-month relationship, leaving you with uneven chunks of hair and the man with a questionable restraining order.

Not your best moment, that much you can admit.

“Anyways,” you snicker, shaking your head to clear the onslaught of memories, “let’s not talk about him anymore, ‘kay?”

You stand up, leaving your painting half-finished, and walk over to the big floor-to-ceiling window.

Your mansion is the biggest in the area, filled with numerous rooms and spaces that far surpassed the amount you need for basic living. Your art room – easily the biggest room, even topping your master bedroom – houses a beautiful glass window that overlooks the property.

“Besides,” you say, clapping your hands, “we have more important things to worry about.” You turn to him and squeal, jumping up and down. “My art exhibit is in a couple of months! Can you believe it, Yeonjun?"

Your excitement has you skipping around the room in glee. You’ve been planning your own exhibit for months and now that it's drawing nearer, you feel more excited than nervous. You hope with all your heart that this exhibit could finally paint you in a proper light, letting you shine as 'the young, twenty-something art extraordinaire' instead of the 'resident fuckgirl who's only good for a weekend.'

“I know, sweetie.” Yeonjun smiles, feeling genuinely happy for you. But before he can further share in your excitement, the doorbell rings.

The noise makes you glance at your watch and smirk. Right on time.

Together, you and Yeonjun walk down the massive staircase to greet your guest, and Jung Hoseok hears you before he even catches sight of you — the clicking of your heels resonating loudly across the living room. He turns his head to the sound and smiles handsomely at the both of you.

For a few moments, none of you say a word but the electricity between you and your guest is hard to ignore.

"Shall I leave you to your business?" Yeonjun breaks the silence, directing the question at you. After all, at this point, he already knows the drill whenever you have your guests over.

You nod, never taking your eyes off Hoseok's and your butler immediately excuses himself.

Once it's just the two of you left, Hoseok holds out a hand to you. “Jung Hoseok. Pleasure to meet you."

You tell him your name, placing your hand in his and immediately, he brings it up to gently brush his lips against your knuckles. “Pleasure's all mine, Hoseok."

“Just Hobi is fine, gorgeous."

He winks at you and smiles. And just like all the other times, you feel yourself falling. Spiralling. Obsessing.

“Hobi…” you repeat, “shall we go over the terms of your company's sponsorship for my art exhibit?”

“Of course,” he responds. "Shall we discuss it in your office?"

"Oh no," you feign disappointment.

"What is it?"

“I'm terribly sorry, Hobi,” you utter, “but my office is under renovations at the moment—"

(It isn't.)

"—and I’m afraid it's not convenient for business discussions for the time being.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok muses, his eyes on your lips as you purse them contemplatively. “Should we take our discussion somewhere else, then?” He offers, not wanting to cut his visit short.

He stares right into your pretty eyes and he swears you've performed some sort of magic right then and there because he finds himself right under your spell.

“Good idea." You smile, your hand sliding up to rest on the crook of his elbow as you lead him up your stairs. “I know the perfect place.”

And that's how he found himself in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your immaculate bed with your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

"Shit," he curses when you take him deeper in your mouth. "Yeah, that's it, gorgeous."

You look up at him with wide eyes, making sure to maintain eye contact when you swallow around him. He bites his lip at the feeling, his thumb reaching out to wipe the stray tears running down your cheek.

You look so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.

Hoseok wonders how the hell he managed to get an invitation to your bed. Sure, he's quite attractive but you're in a whole other league of your own. You're way up there on a pedestal, you and the other chaebols in your wealthy family's circle. Whereas, he's just a mere businessman trying to negotiate a sponsorship proposal.

But, fuck, he's not complaining.

You whine when he pulls you up and onto his lap, your lips releasing his dick with a pop. Feeling needy, you suckle at the soft skin of his neck while he desperately removes your clothes and then his.

"Hobi," you whimper into his neck and the sound goes straight to his already hard cock. "Need you. Please."

"Shit," he groans when you rub your leaking core against his thigh. "Hold on to me."

You comply, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and he stands up to walk the both of you towards your bedroom's clear, glass window. Just like the one in your art room, this one spans wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, and overlooks the front of the mansion.

He sets you down on your feet and turns you around so that you're looking out. Your pussy dribbles even more arousal at the sight of your enormous front gates from the distance, the thought of being seen turning you on.

"Hobi," you whine when you feel his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, and push your ass out in response.

"Don't hold back, gorgeous," he tells you when you let out a muffled moan. "I want the whole mansion to hear you."

He enters you swiftly, making you groan loudly and press your palms against the window. He pulls back, making you whine desperately and shift your weight on your feet. He slams back inside roughly, making you scream incoherently and fuck yourself back on him.

"That's it," Hoseok groans, "fuck me back."

And you do.

He thrusts into you in rough but deep thrusts. You fuck back into him, arching your back, causing your tits to press against the glass. The added stimulation to your nipples makes you play with your clit, making figure eight motions and heightening your pleasure.

"Shit, gorgeous. You're creaming."

He sees a creamy ring of white on the base of his cock and curses, the sight pushing him closer to his climax. You only whine in response, clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Hobi, I'm gonna—"

"Cum with me, gorgeous," he coaxes you. "Now."

You obey, cumming around him while he finishes inside you. You're breathing heavily, relishing in the warmth of his release and he just chuckles affectionately at your fucked out face.

He pulls out of you and when you lead him back to your bed, he suddenly feels exhausted. His eyes can barely stay open and the last thing he remembers before sleep takes over him is your voice telling him three little words.

When Hoseok wakes up, he sees you all dressed, propped up on the headboard and glaring at him.

"What's wrong, gorgeous?" he asks groggily.

"Who's Sooah?" you ask him immediately, your voice clipped.

"What?"

You show him the unlocked phone in your hand. His phone.

"What the fuck? You went through my phone?"

"She was texting you nonstop. Who is she?"

"She's a colleague, not that I need to explain myself to you. And she's the venue coordinator for your art exhibit!"

"I don't beleve you!"

"How the fuck did you even know my password?"

"Are you cheating on me?" you demand, tears falling down your face.

"Cheating on you?" he repeats your question incredulously. "We literally just met!"

But you aren't listening to him. No, you're spiralling, clutching your hair and looking at him desperately. "Did I do something wrong? Is she prettier than me? Is she—"

"You're insane," he cuts you off, frightened at your sudden behavior. As quickly as he possibly can, he puts on his clothes and scrambles towards your bedroom door. "Fuck this shit, I'm leaving."

To his surprise, you don't follow him, though he can hear your heartbroken wails all the way to the front door. When he gets to his car, his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

"WHAT THE FUCK? YOU WRECKED MY CAR?!" he yells, the question directed at you but his exasperated eyes are trained on his wrecked vehicle.

The punctured tiles, cracked windshield, and dented exterior would cost him a fortune. But he decides that's a problem for another day. Right now, he just has to get out of here.

"Crazy bitch," he mutters when he finally exits your property gates on foot.

Back in your room, you cry your heart out while Yeonjun caresses your hair comfortingly.

Your butler knows the drill by now. You just need one day to cry all your tears, another day to forget about it, and around three more days to move on.

Which is why, a few days later, Yeonjun opens the door to a charming, dimpled face. He leads the man to the living room where you're waiting and leaves you two to your business.

"What's your name?" you ask your guest.

"Kim Namjoon," he replies, taking your hand and kissing it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous."

A heartbeat. Then another.

And then you smile.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#bts x reader #jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #hobi x reader #bts imagines #bts fic #jung hoseok imagines #jung hoseok fic #hoseok imagines #hoseok fics #jhope imagines #jhope fic #bts x you #jung hoseok x you #hoseok x you #jhope x you #hobi x you #bts x y/n #jung hoseok x y/n #hoseok x y/n #jhope x y/n #hobi x y/n #cat.writes

[midnightsun-if]

There’s no way I can pass up, “i’m gonna remind them you’re mine” for my girl Scarlett please 🙏

You don’t know how you keep getting dragged into these things…

Sure, in the light of day, Aurelian Academy was the picture perfect institute for higher learning and a practical hub for possible connections within the supernatural, and even sometimes human, world, but at night? When the enchanted lights dimmed, when the professors turned in for the night in their wing, and the moon rose above the shimmering lake that made its home on Aurelian’s campus?

That’s when the real fun, as you’ve been told, begins. Parties, secret meetings, illicit affairs, and more all occurred under the cover of night within Aurelian, and you just happened to have been pulled into once such event— a party that Blake hadn’t stopped gushing about since he heard of it: It’s supposed to be the biggest party of the year! How could I possibly miss it? And, since you’re my best friend, I’ll need you by side when I attend. It won’t be as fun without you.

The fact that it’s barely into the second semester didn’t seem to matter to Blake in the slightest.

Seriously, who thought it’d be a good idea for both sirens and succubi to be housed in the same dorm? That’s only a recipe for disaster— added to the fact that the incubi dorm was a relatively short distance away, and you have a whole slew of potentially bad ideas.

Though nothing bad as my idea of actually attending, you gripe, hand tightening around the flimsy plastic solo cup, sloshing an almost luminescent blue drink over the brim. Blake has been lost in the sea of people, I’m not even sure what time it is, and I think I’m going to go deaf if this music doesn’t shift gears soon.

All in all? You weren’t having the best of times. Not that you minded parties, you’ve been to quite a few in your time, but this sort of thing hadn’t ever really been your scene. The air, intermingled with a variety of scents, is almost cloying in your nostrils, the beat of the bass thrumming your ear, and it’s only due to the privacy wards that you haven’t completely keeled over due to the sound. Your only saving grace is the fact that your girlfriend had agreed to come save you after a certain amount of time.

Getting the chance to see Scarlett, even if it’s in a throng of gyrating bodies and a dimly lit room, she’ll definitely be a sight for sore eyes. You just have to hold out long enough for her to arrive. And she’ll hopefully take me back to her room, you muse, taking a sip over the surprisingly sweet concoction in your cup. Which will lead to the actually exciting part of my night.

For now? You’re content with sticking to the sides of the party, the shadows wrapped around you in a comforting embrace, as you waited for your emerald green eyed savior to arrive.

“You’re not having fun are you?” The sudden voice causes you to flinch in surprise. Your attention immediately settling on the form of Isabel, an occupant of this very dorm, who had a charming smile stretched across full lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so miserable at one of these things.”

You shift. “I’m not miserable,” you reply, not wanting to seem rude. “This just isn’t usually something I go to.”

Isabel hums, amber eyes sparkling. “I can see that.” She tilts her head, slowly appraising you in a way that immediately sends alarm bells ringing in your head. “I can say, with quite a bit of certainty, that you haven’t ever been to one of my parties before?”

She’s right.

“Why do you say that?”

“I think I’d remember someone as beautiful as you attending,” she purrs, leaning closer, locks of raven black hair falling over her shoulder. “None of my sisters, or myself, have been able to take our eyes off you since you arrived with that incubus.”

Sisters. The realization hits you instantly. You’ve completely forgotten that Isabel was a Siren, a species that always traveled in pods, a group that grew as close as family. Who also happened to make a game out of who could get the most valuable prize by the end of their hunts. How do I keep getting into these situations?

Isabel’s smile only grows. “I must admit I’m surprised none of them have snatched you up yet.” Her hand trails down your arm, before you’re able to jerk it away. Something she doesn’t seem to take offense by. “It’s possible they’re too shy to.” She tilts her head, eyes flashing carnally. “Pity. But it only means more of you for myself.”

“Look I have a—”

“She’s already spoken for, Laurent.” A sharp voice interrupts your rebuttal, accent thicker than usual due to the agitation you detect laced within her tone. “You’ll have to take your games elsewhere.”

Isabel’s entire countenance shifts as your girlfriend finally comes into focus— Scarlett. Your eyes rove over her form, clad simply in a red-laced corset top, paired with a belt and tailored black pants, as well as her signature heels, she looks every part of the unflinching conquerer that roams the halls during the day. Not a single strand of dark auburn hair out of place, emerald eyes narrowed into slits as she takes a protective stance next to you, the only sign of her anger being the slightest clench of her jaw. Something anyone that wasn’t you could, and would, miss.

“Wasn’t aware she was yours, Voltaire.” The siren holds up her hands, clearly not wanting to get into an altercation with your girlfriend. “Maybe you shouldn’t let her wander off alone without you.”

Scarlett’s brow arches, an imperious look etched across her face. “I’d take that into consideration if your opinion mattered in the slightest to me.” She waves her hand, a flippant gesture of dismissal if you’ve ever seen one, and drawls. “Run along now. I do believe your time in our presence has run its course. No need to insist upon a place that doesn’t want nor need you.”

Amber eyes flash dangerously but she wisely keeps her mouth shut, giving you one last look, Isabel turns and disappears back into the throng of bodies, no doubt heading over to her sisters that stood near the open bar.

A gentle touch to your cheek pulls your focus towards Scarlett’s face, a bit more emotion now showcased— if the slightest downturn of her lips, and the darkened state of her gaze, was anything to go by.

“Why did you entertain her for so long, my heart?” It’s asked softly, no accusation in her tone. A question borne purely out of curiosity.

You rub the back of your neck. “I panicked and sort of froze.”

Scarlett’s eyes narrow at that. “Did she do anything to you?” A darkened gaze, that flashes obsidian, turns to look back at the room, in the direction that Isabel had disappear off to. “If she did all you have to do is tell me and I’ll handle it.”

“Honestly, I didn’t realize what was happening until it actually happened.” You shake your head, taking Scarlett’s hand, that had limply fallen back to her side, in a gentle hold. “She caught me when I was thinking of a fairly distracting topic.”

“Oh?” Dark auburn hair falls over Scarlett’s shoulder, reminiscent of Isabel’s earlier action, but somehow more elegant, and your girlfriend’s gaze darkens for an entirely different reason, the obsidian black telling of a completely different hunger. “And what would that be?”

Stepping closer, you wrap around arms loosely around Scarlett’s neck, tugging her closer until her body is flushed with yours. “You.” A satisfied purr rumbles out of Scarlett. Her head titling into the gentle touch of your fingers running through her hair. “Out of pure curiosity what were you going to do?” At her raised brow, you elaborate. “You said you would have handled it. How?”

There’s a beat of silence, wherein only the party surrounding you both intercepts it, but when Scarlett offers you a sultry smirk, you immediately felt the familiar swoop in your gut, heat building between you both. It’s of no surprise when Scarlett leans closer and places a hard kiss to your lips— somehow making it deep, passionate in a way that only she could, without ever introducing her tongue. “What would I do, my hear?” She purrs, tugging at your bottom lip with her teeth. “I’d remind them that you’re mine.”

She dips her head, placing an open-mouth kiss to your neck. Clearly delighting in the way you arch against her at the familiar action.

“I suppose I have a different course of action now.” Scarlett steps back, keeping your hands interlaced as she leads you towards the exit, hips swaying in a rhythmic fashion. “Something that’ll be far more rewarding.”

Your breath catches. “And that is?”

“Reminding you that you’re mine.”

#midnight sun #asks #midsun: snippets #ro: scarlett voltaire #daniellew24 #changed the wording a bit #hope that’s okay ❤️

[sushistyless]

mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he  laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

#maybe I’ll follow up with a part 2??? #also the ending seems so half assed I’m sorry sheushjs #anyway just thank you SOOO much for reading :( #my writing #Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x yn #Harry styles fluff #writer harry styles #artist Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #soft harry #harry fluff #sushistyless #mist #strangers to lovers

[medusanova]

Anything That Can Go Wrong

For my fellow rivusa shipper, @fitztragedy​ xx

When Musa learns that Riven is the ‘mentor’ assigned to improve her hand-to-hand combat skills -- and help her pass the only class she has left to complete her third year specialist courses -- she begins to wonder if Murphy’s Law should be amended from ‘anything’ always going wrong to ‘anyone’. 

Because apparently it isn’t enough they’d both left, well, things awkwardly suspended between them after the spiraling catastrophe that was her second year. He’s also still the only person to know what happened with the scrapers. 

Added to that, Riven also happened to be one of only five people in the whole of Alfea that sat at the same desk as her in botany class last term, leaving her to battle his soil remnants, eraser shavings, seat warmth, and general presence for an entire hour everyday. And, worst of all, he’s still the only person who’s ever come close to understanding the very heart of her. 

And now? Well, now she has an entire month to make a fool of herself in front of her biggest rival on the training pitch. All in the name of making it to her fourth and final year. 

Their meeting time is set for an hour before dusk every other evening on the patch of grounds near the barrier. On her first day, Riven arrives as she’s securing her fighting gloves around her wrists. He quietly sets up the training mat and stands in wait, patient as can be.

“Hey,“ she greets. She isn’t going to let him of all people show her up in decency.

“Muse,“ he drawls with a nod. “Why the fuck are you wearing gloves?“

Decency her arse. She barely prevents her eyes from rolling and lifts a brow. “For safety and protection? Maybe you should try it sometime.” 

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout me, Pixie. I always use protection,” he assures with a growing smirk. 

Musa manages to ‘accidentally’ clip a fist against his jaw during their session. She considers it a great start to the month.

She sees him a week later during her free period, which also happens to be his free period (see? Murphy’s Law: Person Edition), when she has the unfortunate idea of spending it outside. She’s walking through the courtyard with her headphones around her neck, ready to settle behind the tree situated furthest away from the main building.

He’s already there, of course, under her favorite willow. Faint traces of cigarette smoke pepper the air as he hunches over his phone, legs sprawled over the comfiest part of the roots. The only reason she doesn’t spontaneously combust is because of the faint purple mark she spots under his right cheek.

He gives her a look when she slowly lowers herself onto the gravelly dirt nearby before going back to his phone. She’s about to put her headphones on when he sighs in exasperation.

“At the risk of being decked in the jaw again-“

“Bet you’re glad I had those gloves on, huh?“

“-I feel the need to ask: why on earth are you sitting over there?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, there’s only one comfy place to sit under this tree.” She digs her phone out of her back pocket, ready to drown him out. 

“Musa,” Riven says, sounding vexed, “you look tragic. If you’re really set on this tree for some reason come and sit here.” He scoots over, extending his legs in front of him to give her enough room.

When she continues to stare at him he grins and says, “Promise I won’t bite.”

Riven doesn’t bite. Which is rather unfortunate since instead they talk about music and his upcoming apprenticeship with Silva and he even shares a bite of the cookie he stole from the canteen, which forces her to play her new favorite band out loud for him. In effort to not lose in the decency department, of course.

“What’s your last class?” he asks as she secures her headphones back around her neck.

She stands a moment before he does, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “History. Why?” 

“Drop by the bastion when it’s over?” They started back toward the main building. “I’ve been doing weapons training with some of the first-years and they’re having trouble grasping the art of the bo staff. Thought you could share a few pointers.”

“Oh!” She grabs his bicep, barely containing her smile. “Yes, I’d love that. Though, fair warning, I haven’t been using it as much this term to ‘round out my strengths’ so once I join you might have a hard time getting rid of me.”

His lips quirk in the corner, creasing a dimple into the corner of his cheek. “That’s what I was counting on, actually.”

After her class she makes her way to the group of first years wielding staffs haphazardly as their instructor guides them in a commanding, yet reassuring voice. He weaves her into his class seamlessly, allowing her to take over their instruction and demonstrate effective techniques they could use in the future.

Throughout the lesson, she studiously avoids catching a glimpse of Riven and that cheek dimple he’d flashed at her earlier. The one that she couldn’t stop thinking about all day. She can, however, feel him staring at her intently as he wraps class up. 

It’s just the two of them left when she finally catches sight of him and Murphy’s Law bites her in the arse again. 

He’s clearly been working with students a majority of the day because his shirt sleeves have been rolled to the elbows, revealing an obscene amount of forearm that flexes as he holds two staffs and twirls them in each hand. Perspiration clings steadfastly to his cheeks and forehead and upper lip.

“Since when do you use a staff?” she asks, irritated with how breathless it she sounds, with how his cheek twitches. 

She almost doesn’t catch it when he launches at her, too focused on that charming, damned dimple again. 

“Watch.”

He comes at her without warning, making her raise her weapon to defend herself. And like they’d rehearsed it, they fall perfectly into a spar. Five minutes. Ten. She doesn’t know how long. They’re twin flames dancing around each other. 

It takes her a few moments to realize he’s using her moves. 

“Have to say, I’m pretty impressed,” she admits, stopping their spar.  

His face, which had been guarded and focused until then, broke into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Who taught you these super impressive and original moves?”

“Some mind fairy,” he quips, laughing at her shout of indignation. “You should see her do these. Mine are a poor imitation.”

She gives him her most serious expression. “Hm. I beg to differ.”

“You do?” 

“Yes. I have it on good authority.”

She’s about to turn away, unable to withstand the attraction and electricity buzzing between them when his fingers brush hers and suddenly he grabs the staff, throwing it into a pile with the rest.

“Hey! Give it back.”

“I’ll give it back later. But right now, I’d really like to kiss you.”

She flattens her lips to stop the smile from spreading across her cheeks. “You would, would you?”

“Very much so,” he murmurs. 

“I didn’t think you were the type to ask for permission,” she prods.

“Hm, usually I’m not,” he cups her face in his hands, sliding his fingers along her jaw. She barely stops her eyes from closing in pleasure. “Then again, I usually don’t end up with a bruise on my face when I’m with anyone else so let’s call this a special case.”

She smiles and covers said bruise with her palm, placing her thumb over his dimple. “Oh, well I don’t think you have anything to worry about this time around.”

His breath ghosts her lips, mouth so close she could feel his smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I have it on good authority.”

Maybe, she thought, Murphy’s Law knew what it was doing after all. 

Happy happy birthday to you, dear Val!!

#a bit of fluff to rot the teeth #also my first rivusa in a long while! hope Im still okay at it lol #happy birthday to my lovely friend xx #rivusa #ftws musa #ftws riven #ftws rivusa #riven x musa #fate ficlet #fate: the winx saga #fate the winx saga #rivusa drabble #my writing #nova writes