#tea service arranged on table

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 1 (SeongjoongxReader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed

And thank you so much @daesukiii for beta reading this fic!! It's well appreciated!💕💕

Part 2 >

***

"YN!"

You heard her howl your name from down the hall. The sound of her voice made you quicken your pace, a streak of panic striking through you. 

"YN! YN, where are you?!”

Her voice sent ice cold water through your veins. You’d left her alone with the others for only a moment. What could possibly have happened in the span of five minutes? A slew of scenarios ranging in severity ran through your mind. Somebody brushed her hair too hard. Somebody smeared her lip paint. Somebody said the wrong thing or the right thing but in the wrong way. You preferred not thinking of what she’d done to that person. 

“YN!”

You walked through the wooden hallway, keeping your head down to not draw much attention to yourself. A habit, you supposed, that you’d learned since being her handmaiden. Finally reaching her room, you gave the guard outside a single glance and he slid the door open for you. 

“She’s in a mood today,” he told you gruffly. “You’d think after the night she had, she’d be more docile.”

“She’s never docile,” you replied. “I’ll handle her.”

“As always.” 

You didn’t find her in the front room of her apartments, where servants put out her morning tea and breakfast spread. Walking past the red and cream colored couches, with their low wooden tables, you moved past more servants cleaning the window frames and floors spotless. You opened the doors leading into her bedroom. Two maids in plain hanboks changed her bed sheets and fluffed her pillows. They gave you both a concerned look, which you replied to with a nod.

“YN!”

“Your Majesty, I am here. What is your command?”

Sookmyung stood on a platform in the middle of her dressing room. Four girls dressed in white hanboks kept their heads down and hands clasped together, a sign of their subservience to the woman. Queen Han Sookmyung only wore the emerald skirt of her hanbok, her long black hair unbraided and falling down her back, and you saw the issue immediately. The top layer of her gown laid on the floor at her feet, a bundle of more emerald cloth bordered with golden vines.

“My command is that I want these imbeciles out of my sight!” she screeched, stamping her foot on the platform. “I told this one to bring the blue and gold one. She brought the green and gold!”

“A simple mistake, Your Majesty, I am sure,” you said calmly, walking further into the room. “Aro,” you turned to one of the handmaidens nearest you, “Please bring Her Majesty the dark blue and gold dress. It’s in the fourth box on the second shelf.” She bowed to you, then briskly left for the closet in the other room.

“YN, send them away. I cannot stand looking at them any longer.”

“You are all dismissed for now.”

The remaining handmaidens bowed, then left the room without a word. You moved over to her and began untying the skirt from her torso. Discontent still read on Sookmyung’s thin, oval face. Once the young queen flew into one of her rages, it was difficult to bring her back down. It was why you instructed the handmaidens to do as she said down to the last word. It saved everyone lots of trouble. 

When you gingerly removed the skirt, leaving her in the underskirt and undergarments, you saw yourself in the long mirror. Your white dress nearly blended in with the brightly colored room around you.  Like all female monarchs, she surrounded herself with handmaidens. The distinction was Sookmyung demanded her female servants be virgins, who all wore white to make Sookmyung stand out against them. Being the eldest of her handmaidens, a companion since childhood, your uniform differed in the red ribbon keeping your top half closed. Yet, even then you mustn’t draw too much attention to yourself. How can The Queen shine if her servants looked more beautiful than her? 

“They’re such simpletons,” she grunted. “I do not know what is so difficult. How can one possibly confuse blue with green?”

“I am certain she misheard you, Your Majesty.” Deflect her displeasure. You glanced over to the vanity where someone laid out her jewelry. They’d chosen the dangling gold earrings and matching hair ornaments. “Look at this set, Your Majesty,” you gave a soft gasp, walking over to the jewelry, “These earrings are absolutely divine! Are they not?”

“They are fine enough,” she replied haughtily. “At least the fool chose something that matches.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “I am surprised she had any fashion sense at all, to be honest.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she sneered, flipping a loose strand of hair from her shoulder. “Send the idiot away when she returns. You will dress me today.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

When the girl returned, you took the long, flat box and dismissed her quietly. Not a sound. Not a whisper or a mumble. That was how servants communicated: discreetly and hurriedly. With everyone gone, only you two remained. You began unwrapping the separate pieces of Sookmyung’s dress from the box. The blue skirt remained plain, while golden dragons interweaved around her shoulders and along the middle of the top. The gold paint shined whenever she moved her torso, and the voluminous skirt gave an illusion of gliding instead of walking.

“I am taking visitors today,” she mused as you began brushing her hair. You took care not to let the brush snag in her waist-length strands. The ring on her finger looked like it’d cut your cheek. “Merchants and common people.”

“Your people wish to speak with you, Your Majesty,” you replied, pulling back her hair to start braiding. “They seek your wisdom and guidance.”

“As they should,” she said, admiring the golden ring on her finger. “I am their queen. They need to heed my words and obey them.”

You would’ve told her that giving advice and giving commands are different things, but you knew better.

After many failed pregnancies, King Siwon and Queen Jisoo finally produced a child in their fourth year. Sookmyung became her father’s sole heir to the throne. Being the only heir, the king groomed his daughter for rule. You wanted to say that Sookmyung ignored her lessons and took no interest in them, but that is far from the truth. Sookmyung devoured her father’s wise council and listened attentively at his elbow. She followed the master at arms around the training yard, learning how to use a sword and bow. She spent time in the stables learning how to tame and ride horses. Everyone hoped her eagerness meant she’d be a good and capable queen, but you knew better. Unlike the king’s council, you knew why Sookmyung took to the idea of ruling the kingdom so quickly.

There’d be nobody to stop her. 

“I heard Kim Haneul wishes to propose to you,” you said, hoping the gossip keeps her occupied. You styled her hair up from her face to accentuate her facial features and long neck, sliding bejeweled pins to keep it in place. “He has had his eye on you for a long time.”

“Which one is he again?” she asked, stumped. “He isn’t the fat one, is he?”

“No, Your Majesty,” you faked an amused giggle. You grabbed her eoyeo meori, the circular wig with its golden adornments. Placing it as a halo around her head before pinning it in place, you continued. “That is Advisor Heechul’s son. Haneul is the son of the new Duke of Daegu. He’s that handsome one who won your archery contest at last year’s harvest festival. I heard from some of the maids that he favors you highly.”

“Of course he does,” she scoffed, double checking the work you’d done. “I’m a queen. He’s a common nobleman.”

“Yes, he is,” you nodded, “But he will approach you nevertheless, Your Majesty.”

“Who told you this nonsense?”

“One of the kitchen hands,” you told her, picking up a powder box from the vanity. “She said she overheard it from Haneul and one of his companions. I thought I’d tell you to prepare you for it should he ask today.” You then added, “I know how much you dislike surprises. I’d hate for him to spring it on you, and you be flustered in making a decision.”

“Yes, I do despise it.” She kept herself still as you began lightly applying powder to her face. “Haneul…Haneul…You say he’s the handsome archer from last year?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hm, must not be remarkable if I did not collect him already,” she mused. A small smile crossed her face, “Have you seen my flowers today, YN?”

“I haven’t,” you answered honestly. “You know as well as I that no one is permitted in your garden.”

“Oh, my beautiful flowers,” she sighed softly. “They bring me such comfort.” 

You saw her eyes glaze over as they did when she spoke of Them. Those at court called them ‘The Golden Ones’, but Sookmyung called them her ‘flowers’. You pondered on the men while you finished painting her lips. Upon his death, king Siwon had twenty-five concubines living in the “private gardens” near the king’s quarters. Sookmyung dismissed them all the morning after his death, determined to fill it with concubines of her own. You and her advisors told her queens did not usually take male concubines, since she is meant to marry and produce children. Sookmyung ignored all of you. During her war campaign across the country, she searched for handsome men to bring into her harem. Yet, with all things, she was picky. Her concubines needed to be ethereal beauties; they needed to be trophies that would make her the envy of the court. She eventually found them, imprisoned them, and then put them in the gardens to do what she pleased. 

Sookmyung currently has eight concubines. No doubt should another war arise, she will steal more sons.

“Tell the guard to bring my flowers to the throne room today,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror when you finished. “I wish for them to be there. They do bring me relief on days like today.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” You picked up a purple perfume box, but Sookmyung shook her head. 

“No, not jasmine. Hongjoong detests jasmine scents.”

‘He does not. It’s you he detests.’ 

“Then will you prefer the lavender or the rose perfume?”

“Lavender. It has such a calming effect on him,” she said when you started dabbing the scent on her neck and wrists. “My fiery blossom. I know he will be furious if that fool Haneul comes forward. His jealousy is only outmatched by my own, I’m afraid.”

“Well, seeing other men fawn over you must make him believe your love for him will wane and disappear,” a male voice said from somewhere behind you. “We cannot fault him for his emotions.”

You turned your head to see an old man walk into the room. His salt-and-pepper hair cut short, he’d left his thin mustache and beard growing past throat to his chest. Wrinkled by age, Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik served the royal family since Sookmyung’s grandfather’s time. In the red robes of a first rank advisor, he walked further into the room. He smiled at Sookmyung, giving her a slight bow as their eyes met. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, looking back at herself, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see if you’d be joining us in the throne hall for petitions this morning,” he asked. “The other advisors and I believe it will show the people an image of concern if you are seen on your father’s throne-”

“-You mean my throne,” she cut him off. “I am the queen.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he smiled, giving a nod of the head, “Old habits die hard.”

“Or easily,” you heard her mutter. “But, yes I will be there today. Tell the other officials to worry.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he grinned. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“Mhm-hm.”

His attention turned to you, “Good day, YN.”

“Good day, Senior Advisor,” you gave a slight bow and a smile. 

It was the briefest of glances but you noticed it right away. Eyes lined with crows feet looked between you and Sookmyung, with a certain disappointment lingering in them. The expression did not sit right with you, but it was not your place to question. Advisor Choi left, and you and Sookmyung were alone again. He seemed to be filled with words he could not say out loud. Then again, many people did the same. It was Sookmyung’s chuckle that caught your attention.

“The old man likes you,” she cackled. “Out of all the men in the world, it’s the ancient one.”

“He was being polite,” you said to her, cheeks burning from her laughter. 

“He doesn’t have to be ‘polite’ to you,” she said. “He outranks you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you as his concubine. It is disgusting to think about,” she shuddered, “Those knobbly hands on you and those lips. Don’t worry, YN. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That is kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“You must be envious of me, YN. I have my beautiful flowers and you have nobody,” she said thoughtfully, “I spend ages worshiping Seonghwa’s gorgeous body or listening to Jongho sing and you're here all alone. It must be sad."

“It can be, but I hope one day that will change,” you told her. You grabbed the blue overcoat from the box, letting her stand to put it on her. “I may find someone who is patient and clever. The kind of man who treats his lady well and is gracious and kind.” A man such as Seonghwa. But, that was a thought you immediately pushed out. 

“Men like that are needles in a haystack. Only I have been fortunate to find such lovely beauties like my flowers,” she said. “Like Hongjoong…”

You followed her out of the bedroom. Hongjoong’s face came to the forefront of your mind. The last of Sookmyung’s flowers, he’d quickly become her favorite. You saw how he fawned over her, and constantly whispered things in her ear that made her giggle. Secretly, you wished it was you he whispered to, but you knew that wouldn’t be. Hongjoong is placed far out of your reach, just like the rest of them. As you followed her out of her room, you bit your lip thinking about the last time she made you stay in their “garden”. Sookmyung took delight in seeing you flustered and squirming when she took one of them. Like all her handmaidens, you’d kept your virginity intact, which she enjoyed teasing you about. But, if you had your pick, you'd have him or Seonghwa. Possibly even both. 

Four men dressed in black and red leather armor met you outside her chambers. You whispered the summons to one of them, and he passed it along to one of the guards at the main doors. A wooden palanquin sat at the bottom steps of the residency building, a red awning keeping the sun from hitting Sookmyung as she climbed inside. You, however, stayed on the outside. You eyed the spot beside her, a seat wide enough for you both to fit, but you knew she’d never offer it to you. The queen rides in the palanquin. Her handmaiden walks. 

“But you wouldn’t understand anything about that,” Sookmyung giggled as the footmen lifted the litter and the group moved. You walked steadily at her side, making sure to keep yourself in step. Move too slow, and she’ll complain that you’re lagging behind. Move too quickly, and she’ll accuse you of trying to upstage her. “You are unmarried and are still a virgin.”

“That does not mean I cannot love, Your Majesty, or understand how it works,” you replied calmly. You sensed the taunt skirting around her words, and you braced yourself for more. “I see how Hongjoong and the others are when you’re in their presence. It is like seeing heaven on earth. They worship you. They adore you. I think we all can only hope for such love to come into our lives.”

“How sweet,” she pouted, “It must be nice to have such naive and fanciful dreams about love. I’m afraid it is not always so heavenly.” You noticed her face turn sour, “I see how those little harlots in court gawk at them whenever they pass. They see my flowers and sigh over them.” You saw her fold her hands over one another on her lap, “I remember that one idiot who tried seducing my Mingi. She had that pathetic, simpering smile and that obnoxious laugh. Ugh, it was a humiliating display," a wicked smirk came across her face, "But, I put a stop to that all together. You remember that, do you not, YN?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.” 

Lady Seulgi, a noblewoman draped in expensive adornments, had come to the palace during a birthday celebration. You recall how Sookmyung spotted her eyeing Mingi, one of the concubines, and the jealousy flaring in her eyes. You’d done all you could to convince Sookmyung that she saw nothing; Lady Seulgi happened to look in his direction, that was all. This lie worked for a time, before someone else spotted Lady Seulgi trying to corner Mingi in the palace garden. Sookmyung immediately had Lady Seulgi thrown into the dark, secluded jails in the back of the palace. Walking up the steps of a gate to reach the throne hall, you recall seeing Lady Seulgi removed of her finery and forced into a roughspun tunic. The beautiful, bold lady you’d seen that night became a filthy, frightened creature within days. You tried not remembering the stubs of her missing fingers, or the screams she made when Sookmyung pulled out her toenails one at a time. 

‘Make her ugly. Make her so ugly nobody will look at her.’ 

Nobody heard from Seulgi ever again. 

You spotted masses of people filling the wide throne courtyard. Nobles and commoners alike came to petition their problems to the queen, and it created a multi-colored sea of people in the square. Right when the palanquin passed through the gate, a group of soldiers dressed in red and white began playing on either side of the large doors. Two held horns, two banged on drums, one with cymbals, and another held a gong as they walked down the aisle. 

“The Queen is entering!” the leader called out in a booming voice, which caught everyone's attention. 

The daechwita played as they led the procession towards the throne hall. You kept your eyes to the ground now, making yourself as invisible as possible, and followed the palanquin the entire way. You chanced a glance at Sookmyung, whose eyes danced with pride. This is what she loved. This is why she scorched villages and killed kings. The power that emanated from the people bowing to her seemed to swell in her chest. You pitied anyone who upset her today.  They may end up the same way as Lady Seulgi if they’re not careful. 

The palanquin reached the throne hall’s platform, and footmen helped Sookmyung out of it. You briskly straightened out the back of her gown, and then stepped out of her way. The throne hall was wide with open windows, lattice walls, and a high decorative ceiling. Before his death, the king sat on the throne of his ancestors before him. A red throne painted with gold dragons, with a folded screen stood behind depicting the sun, moon, and mountains. It took someone three steps to reach the top of the platform, which only gave enough space for the king and two bodyguards to occupy. 

When Sookmyung came into power, she expanded on this inch by inch. She rebuilt the throne itself to have a taller back to rest on, and raised the platform a several more steps to open it up. This way, her concubines may sit on the steps in comfort, lounging peacefully on display for the whole court. Nobody said it out loud, but you knew why she wanted them with her. How can she flaunt her victories if the trophies are hidden behind garden walls? It made you sick. She not only desecrated the ancient throne, which for centuries stood as a symbol of dignity, but put her own proudful twist on it as well. You followed her up the steps, and walked right to your place in the shadows of the high dais. 

“All hail the Queen!” the singer called out. 

“All hail the Queen!” most of the crowd repeated back. 

Back in her father’s day, the king would speak to his subjects directly. He’d thank them for traveling to visit him, and begin accepting petitions and propositions. Sookmyung stayed silent, eyeing the crowd, while Senior Advisor Choi stepped in front of the throne. 

“Good people, good people,” he called, “It is our queen’s great delight and honor to host you here in her grand throne hall today. She is very interested to hear your thoughts and find solutions for your concerns. May the first of the petitioners step forward, please.”

The first to approach were two men. You took in their haggard appearance: clothes hanging from their skinny frames, worn out shoes on their feet, and their skin tanned from years in the sun. You could tell they must work outdoors, most likely in one of Sookmyung’s rice or spice fields. The taller man spoke up first, fire in his voice already.

“Your Majesty, I have been severely wronged in your great country,” he began. “This man,” he pointed to the person beside him, “Has been extending his land onto mine little by little for several months now!”

“Your Majesty, I have done no such thing! I was merely rebuilding my fences, and happened to accidentally-”

“-Accidentally? Ha, please! Do not try to fool us into believing you do not know where your land ends and mine begins,” his opponent retorted. “You have been rebuilding that fence of yours for quite some time. The stakes from the last rebuild are still in the ground, and they are several feet from where they’d been before.”

“My son has been helping me, Your Majesty,” the man said to Sookmyung. “He is not the brightest of boys, but he is strong and helpful to me in my old age. He must have marked the line wrong-”

“-How despicable! To blame your deception on your own flesh and blood-”

“-I am only providing a possible explanation! Besides, why do you care? It is not as if you tend to your fields regularly or properly. I have seen the grain you grow. It is subpar at best, and inedible at worst. I am the superior farmer, therefore I should have more land…”

“This is so boring,” Sookmyung mumbled loud enough for you to hear. “Who cares about a stupid farm?”

“Their farms are important to them, Your Majesty,” you replied. “It is the only way they can feed themselves and their families.”

“Psh, as if they are now. Look how skinny they are. It’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart sank hearing the two men describe their feud to one another. You thought of your own solution: You would’ve told them to have an official come and inspect the property lines for them to have an unbiased opinion. You’d pay builders from the city to repair the fence damage and realign it to avoid any more confusion. They would have done that already if they could afford to pay for the help. Sookmyung’s high taxes and the wealthy’s low wages make it difficult for the common folk of the kingdom to live properly. The few times you’d gone into the city for her, you’d seen the way most of them live day-to-day. They’re starving, unable to properly care for themselves or their children, and barely afford to pay their land owners. In their desperation, many of them venture into the Queen’s forest to hunt for food, with hopes of not being caught by guards roaming the perimeters. Others resort to criminal activities, since the slum lords pay much better than their law abiding counterparts. Sookymung’s kingdom fell into poverty because of the grand lifestyle she wished to live and the wars she'd waged. While her people starved, the queen and her elite nobles dined and dressed well. It sickened you to your stomach. 

“...Which of them brings in more grain?” Sookmyung asked the senior advisor. 

Senior Choi looked to Advisor Park, the master of coin who took care of the kingdom’s finances. It took the middle-aged man a moment, but he eventually found their names and most recent tax payments. The accused paid more in his taxes and supplied more grain than his accuser.

“Then it is clear that he deserves more land than this one,” Sookmyung told Choi. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

Choi stared up at her, but he did not look as dumbfounded as his fellow advisors. For the briefest moment, you caught disdain in his dark eyes. Nevertheless, he turned away and addressed the men. 

“Then it is clear that…that he deserves more land than this one,” you heard him repeat stoically. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

“B-B-But, Your Majesty, my family has owned that farm for many years,” he said imploringly. “It is not right!”

“Perhaps his family should find a new venture and stop wasting my time", Sookmyung huffed. “The man will keep his fence where it is, and you will accept my decision.”

Choi repeated her words verbatim, and the man’s jaw dropped. “Your Majesty-”

“-Next,” she dismissed him through Choi.

Both men were forced to the side by guards. Right as the next person came up, drums and horns suddenly rang throughout the large hall. Sookmyung’s eyes lit up and she beamed at the people entering the room.

“Her Majesty’s concubines approach!” the leader said. “Make way for The Golden Ones! Make way!”

Surrounded by four guards dressed in all black armor walked a group of eight men.

As always, Sookmyung’s concubines wore their black and gold hanboks: Their overcoats of black silk covered most of their body, the wide sleeves ending far past their fingers. Glimmering stones weaved into the intricate floral patterns of their golden sashes, matching the hair pins and jewelry they wore. What separated them the most were their veils. Thin veils hanging from their ears hung to their chests, the sheer fabric dotted with gold pieces to hide their features. Only you and Sookmyung ever saw their faces unmasked. She said the less they revealed of themselves, the less likely anybody would desire them.

A complete and utter lie, in your opinion.

“My beautiful flowers,” she smiled, eyes full of fondness. “So wonderful to see you early in the morning,” she watched them walk up the steps to their assigned seats on the steps.

The farthest was Jongho, who sat on the third step from the bottom, lounging back with one elbow on the step above him. The youngest of her flowers, he kept his black hair in a braid that was woven with gold bands. Formerly an innkeeper’s son, Sookmyung stole him from his family during the end of her campaign. You never forgot how Sookmyung viciously beat the old woman who begged her not to take him; how Jongho did not stop crying the entire way back to the capital.

“Your braid looks lovely today, Jongho,” Sookmyung admired, looking over his round, soft features from afar.

“I am glad you think so, Mistress,” he said, “I added the jewels especially for you.”

“I’m wearing the hair band you gifted me, Mistress,” said a slender boy sitting just above him.

Wooyoung. The son of the Duke of Pyongyang, the siege of his city took Sookmyung only a few days. She often boasted about how their forces retreated from her men like mice. As with the other kingdoms, she gifted the seat of House Jung to one of her allies, and took the duke’s son for herself. Wooyoung fled into the woods, being hunted by Sookmyung and her pack of dogs for several days before being found and dragged to camp. You preferred not thinking about what Sookmyung did to break him.

You noticed the young man winced when he moved to face her. From what you’d gathered, Sookmyung visited his chambers the previous night. Whatever she’d done left him sore and holding back whimpers of pain. The tenderness inside you wished to reach out for him. You wished to comfort and assure him that his pain will subside soon. His wounds will heal and he will be fine. But, how ‘fine’ is he when Sookmyung owns him?

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” Sookmyung said. Another peasant was brought before her, but she ignored him. “You were magnificent last night. You and San both.”

San, muscular and broad, sat across from Wooyoung. Thin eyes flickered with hate before changing to pure seduction. “As were you, Mistress.”

Choi San used to be a soldier in Sookymung’s army. His father, General Choi, was a general who commanded a large portion of her forces. One day, when his battalion was overpowered and forced to retreat, Sookmyung took this failure as a sign of weakness. It inflamed her burning rage, and Sookmyung sentenced the man to a brutal death: being beaten with clubs by his own lieutenants. San was forced to watch the entire thing. From what you’d heard, he still woke up screaming for his father to run.

“Mistress, I’m sleepy,” said the man sitting above San and Wooyoung. Long-limbed with sleek brown hair, he gave an audible yawn and stretched. “I sleep so lightly without you beside me.”

Another sweet lie to fill her head with dreams. Sookmyung’s war took her all over the country, and this meant bypassing several inns and small villages. When attacking Haeju, Sookmyung camped outside a small fishing village right on the west coast. There, she found plenty of provisions and ship builders to repair the damaged fleet. With them came a tall, lean young man with brown hair and a precious smile. Song Mingi. You’d originally thought Sookmyung took Mingi for a fleeting fancy, but when she told him that he’d be joining the other men she’d dragged with her, he naturally refused. It wasn’t until Sookmyung threatened to kill his entire family that he went with her.

Sookmyung burnt down his whole village, ultimately murdering his family anyways.

“Perhaps I may remedy that tonight, lovely,” she replied, smirking at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t want my Mingi to collapse from lack of proper rest.”

“Then what of me, Mistress?” a wide-eyed young man said on the other side. “You said you’d be with me.”

Dainty and petite, Kang Yeosang was also nobility. While not high in rank, his family did supply the opposition with food and resources throughout the war. Sookmyung created the strategy to hit them at their source, which included raiding baggage supply trains moving through the country. Yeosang led one such train, and while his men fought valiantly, they were defeated. Yeosang, having an angelic look to him with doe-like eyes, became another addition to her growing harem. She promised he’d go home if his family surrendered their land and resources to her, so Yeosang agreed. But, Yeosang never went home. It took him a short time to realize that Sookmyung never planned on ransoming him. When he heard her forces invaded his home, slaughtered his family, and claimed it in her name, he knew he’d never see home again.

“You can join us then, Yeosangie,” she cooed.

A peasant woman holding a baby in a blanket came forward, tearful and pleading for her child’s life. Sookmyung hardly listened to her as she addressed the man next to Yeosang: Yunho. Equally as tall as Mingi, he kept his black in a top knot with a black band around his forehead. A servant placed a bowl of grapes in front of him, but he did not eat them. He could never eat with Sookmyung around. She disgusted him to the point of losing his appetite. 

“Yunho, are you not hungry?”

“I had a large breakfast, Mistress.”

He turned his head to answer her, then back to the woman standing before him. She sobbed about how a group of men ransacked her home, taking everything she owned and leaving her with nothing but her life. You saw the pity in his puppy-dog eyes. He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a velvet coin purse. You knew that Yunho sometimes secretly slipped silver or gold coins to the servants when possible. 

“Here,” Yunho walked down the steps to her, “For your and your child.”

“S-Sir…” she wept, looking at the large sum in her hand, “I…I cannot…” she glanced at Sookmyung, who glared. “I cannot accept this-”

“-I insist,” Yunho said, not reaching or touching her. It’d put a mark on her back for certain. “You need it more than me.”

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Isn’t my Yunho generous?” Sookmyung said, though her grin did not reach her ears. “He is always thinking of others.”

“It is why you noticed me, Mistress, is it not?”

He came back to his seat and your eyes briefly met his. Yunho, not of noble birth, lived in a farming village before outlaws came and raided them. By the time Sookmyung arrived, several villagers either died or were grievously injured. Being the son of the town physician, Yunho tended to several of the children, frightened and wounded from the bandits. Sookmyung not only found it endearing, but saw Yunho’s apparent handsomeness. She promised he’d be her personal physician’s apprentice, learning at the elbow of the finest in the kingdom. He only needed to travel with her for a few days. But, when she placed him in the harem tent with the others, he realized what his role would truly be. It is only fortunate that Yunho is able to tend to whatever wounds the concubines suffer at Sookmyung’s hands.

“It is,” she nodded. “You’re just as sweet as my Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa sat on a cushion a step right beneath Sookmyung. The eldest of the Golden Ones, his sharp jawline and full lips enchanted Sookmyung right away. Son of an advisor to another king, he’d attempted to trade his life for his younger brother, whom she’d gifted to a group of loyalists during her victory celebration. Unfortunately, this did not work. His younger brother was carried off by the men while Seonghwa was dragged to her new chambers. From what you know, Seonghwa hasn’t seen his brother since then. 

His father having been a notable advisor, Senior Advisor Choi has often sought him out for counsel and opinion. You supposed this intelligence is why he’d managed to last so long. He gave her a dashing smile, and spoke in his deep voice.

“But nobody is as sweet as you, Mistress,” he licked his lips, “Nobody certainly tastes as sweet either.”

“Seonghwa,” she flipped open her fan and gave it to you to fan her, “You always know what to say.”

Her eyes then landed on the concubine sitting on her left, elbow on the arm of the throne and appearing bored. Black hair tied back in a ponytail, Sookmyung gifted him with a red headband to wear around his head. Embroidered flowers in the center, this symbol of Sookmyung’s favoritism set him apart from the others. You’re sure that the reason she favored him so highly is not only his handsomeness, but the fact that he’d been a true prince. Hongjoong, Crowned Prince of Wonju. 

Wonju was a peaceful, plentiful kingdom that remained its own nation after the Han clan took over the country. Somewhere far off in the east, you remember the mountain ranges that surrounded the area, high and steep so that very few enemies could pass. It’d been ruled over by the Kim clan, with King Hyungshik at the head. A king in his own right, it was peace terms with the Hans that prevented open warfare. You’d always understood both nations to live side-by-side in harmony. Then Sookmyung became queen, and she could not have another monarch in her country. 

But, Wonju did not fall to Sookmyung as easily. Several bloody and fierce battles were found on land and sea, ripping the two nations apart in the process. Several kingdoms sided with Wonju, but they’d been overpowered by the queen’s men. Sookmyung’s triumph over Wonju became a lasting highlight of her conquest. She’d taken Hongjoong as a further stab to those who’d rebel and oppose her. To her, he is her biggest trophy. 

“Mistress, please let us be done with this riff-raff,” Hongjoong drawled, “And entertain ourselves elsewhere. This business bores me to tears.”

Yet, even after the death of their royal family, the people of Wonju oppose Sookmyung and the man she put in charge of them. Many resistance fighters her armies capture are from Wonju. You wondered at what point did they stop trying to rescue Hongjoong and focus their efforts on usurping Sookmyung. You knew he hated Sookmyung, regardless of what he said to the contrary. You’d hate her too if you were him. But, Hongjoong had secrets of his own.

You’d never tell anyone about the woman you’d seen him meeting at night.

“It is part of my duty as queen, blossom,” she told him, lifting his chin to make him look at her. “Advisor Choi insists I perform my responsibilities as ruler, but the only thing I ever wish to do is be in your arms and in your bed.”

“Then leave these filthy peasants, love,” he took the hand on his chin and held it gently, “And let me admire my queen as a loyal subject should.”

“Hongjoongie…” she breathed,

“Please, Mistress,” he put a yearning into his seductive tone, “It has been so long since you have visited my chambers. You’re always with the others and never with me,” he put a hand on her knee and knelt. You heard him whisper something obscene in her ear, which made her giggle. “…It grows harder in every thought. Do not leave me wanting, Mistress, please. It aches for you…”

This is what Sookmyung wanted: a concubine who professes nothing but undying desire for her. Sookmyung could never truly love anyone, regardless of what she said. Hongjoong knew this, and you admired his tact. It is better to make her believe he needed her than to show his true feelings. You wondered if he thought of the other woman when he said these words. You knew he'd never think of you. 

You saw them after a celebration for Sookmyung’s five-year-reign as queen. You finished helping her into bed and took the shortcut back to the servant’s quarters to rest your tired feet. Cutting through the concubine gardens, you’d heard hushed voices through a hedge. You thought nothing of it at the time, since you thought it must’ve been the wind or an animal nearby. Yet, you then heard the high voice of Kim Hongjoong, followed by another voice. A woman’s voice. Curiosity and shock got the better of you, and you peeked through the high hedge to see their figures in the shadows of the trees. You couldn’t tell what they’d done, since they hid themselves behind dense thickets of shrubbery, but it did not take much to wonder. You never saw the woman, so you guessed she’d gone over the garden wall, but you did see Hongjoong. It did not take a genius to figure out what he’d done. You swore yourself to secrecy; you told yourself that revealing this secret of his to anyone meant death.

“Alright,” she pouted, “I can never say no to this beautiful face of yours…”

“Or my tongue,” he added softly, putting his face inches from hers but never kissing. The veil acted as a barrier that drove her nuts. “Seonghwa will join us, if you wish. He enjoys you just as much as I do. Isn’t that so, Brother?”

“It is,” Seonghwa nodded, but did not approach her.

Your eyes met Hongjoong’s. You wished you could thank him. With Sookmyung occupied with him and his “brothers”, you could see your mother, whom you haven’t seen for two nights. You may even see Queen Jisoo, Sookmyung’s mother. 

“We’re done for today,” Sookmyung told Choi, who nodded stiffly. “Come, flowers.”

One by one they followed her down the steps, and you trailed behind them. Everyone bowed their heads as she walked by, but you couldn’t help seeing their glaring faces. They must’ve waited hours to see her, and she only listened to two or three people. She conquered every kingdom in the country, turning them into wards under her rule, and did nothing to help them. Like the men who trailed behind her, they are spoils of war. Sookmyung squandered their collective wealth, expecting her subjects to accept it without complaint. You wished you knew a way to help, but you’re as powerless as them. You watched Hongjoong climb into Sookmyung’s litter, the pair instantly turning to one another, and expected to walk alongside them.

“No, no, YN,” Sookmyung stopped you as you approached. “You’re dismissed for the day. Come to the garden around supper. If anyone comes calling for me, tell them I am indisposed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you bowed, standing aside as the footmen lifted up the five litters.

She turned away from you to kiss Hongjoong, who tilted his head to deepen it. Once more, you locked eyes with one another. You gave him an appreciative smile, which he replied with a blink. You waited until Sookmyung was far away before walking towards the opposite gate back to the residency area. Passing by Sookmyung’s personal apartments, you walked further down the hall to a set of double doors guarded by a leggy man in leather armor. 

“Good morning, Junhan,” you grinned at them, the older man grinning back. “Is Her Majesty accepting visitors?”

“She will if it’s you,” he replied, “How was the witch this morning?”

“Junhan,” you hissed, holding back your laugh and looking down the hall, “You know better.”

“Ah, as if anyone is going to hear me here,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open the door for you, and said, “She’ll be glad to see you. Your mother says Her Majesty has been anxious these past few days.”

“Then I should see her quickly,” you said, giving him a nod before walking into the main room. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you smiled as you entered a nearby sitting room. 

The Queen Mother Jisoo was once held in the admiration of everyone in the kingdom. She’d helped the kingdom in many ways during her reign alongside her husband: giving smaller villages access to clean water, funding orphanages and reconstructing damaged parts of the city. She helped pass laws that protected women in arranged marriages or dangerous situations, and gave protection to children. It was because of her that many people, especially the women and children, felt safe in the kingdom. But, when her daughter became queen, the Queen Mother stepped back and focused on her passions instead. However, age came for Jisoo, and her mobility became limited and her health declined slightly.

“Ah, YN, good morning,” Jisoo smiled. She sat in her wheeled chair today, a blanket over her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. “How is my daughter?”

“She is well. She is in the throne hall,” you fibbed. “She asked me to come check on you for her.”

“YN,” she smiled softly, shaking her head, “You’d lie to an old woman to spare her feelings. Please, come and sit. I’m sure Sookmyung did not make the morning easy for you. A servant told me she sent away her handmaidens this morning.”

“She did.” You took the seat across from her and prepared yourself a cup of tea. You offered to refill her cup, but she refused. “Your Majesty, you must eat,” you noticed the amount of food left over, “If you don’t, it will get cold.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure you’re famished, so please, eat.”

“She hardly had time to eat her breakfast this morning, Your Majesty.”

A woman in a gray and blue hanbok walked into the room, carrying a stack of folded sheets. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore the blue and gray hanbok of Queen Jisoo’s maids. Like your red ribbon, she wore a white one. You grinned at the sight of your mother. She’d been Queen Jisoo’s handmaiden in her youth, being at her side for every event of her life. When you grew up, you became Sookmyung’s maid. Except, you’re certain your mother had a much better time serving Jisoo than you did Sookmyung.

“And why was that?” Jisoo asked curiously. “Breakfast is important, and you’re still a growing woman.”

“The queen needed me to assist her in her garden,” you admitted over a cup of tea before sipping. You saw the disapproval on your mother’s face, but it was Jisoo who spoke up.

“And what horrid thing did she make you witness?”

“Nothing. She’d sent the concubines away before I arrived.”

“Hmph, in my day, queens did not have ‘concubines’,” your mother huffed, shaking her head. “The physician tells me he brews her tansy tea to avoid scandalous mishaps, but that is not healthy for a young woman. She’ll do severe damage to her womb, and not be able to produce children at all at this rate.”

“Chaewon,” the queen shushed her sharply. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she apologized. She noticed you not eating, and spread a bit of honey on bread for you. You knew better than to refuse her, so you ate it in small bites.

“My Sookmyung has always had a certain fiery passion,” Jisoo said. “Her father was similar. It was why he had so many concubines. He had an appetite I could not handle on my own,” she giggled.

“But, Your Majesty, the things I’ve heard The Queen does are-”

“-I know they are,” she cut in. “My daughter is a young woman, a new monarch. I will not rob her of enjoying her youth before settling down and marrying someone.”

Did that enjoyment of youth involve locking people in dungeons to torment and torture for pleasure? Did it include kidnapping young men from their families and forcing them to fulfill her every whim? Jisoo might make excuses for Sookmyung, but you would not. You finished the bit of bread given to you, and took up a bowl of kimchi instead. Not fully tasting the vegetable side, you pitied the concubines. Only the gods know what act she is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to perform for her. 

You wished you could help them. You wished you could help a lot of people.

***

A/N: I freaking love historical aus, don't you?? I know this probably isn't a 100% accurate, but I tried to get as close as possible while still mixing in a fictional realm. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter <3 feel free to like and reblog, it keeps posts alive!!

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #pirateeznet

[chlerc]

times it mattered ; charles leclerc

— summary; 5 times where Charles showed you what it’s like to be on the receiving end of love with his actions and words.

pairing — charles leclerc x art-student!f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 1899.

content — 5 times you realised that being in an arranged marriage with Charles Leclerc wasn’t that bad. Actions speak louder than words, but what if he has a mix of both?

NAVIGATION + author’s note: i awfully love this one because i’m soooo an acts of service girl and this is exactly what i want in life but no one gets what they want.

— 1.

THE SOUND OF THE television drains out with her head in her hands, the table with an array of paint and colour pencils. The sketch, she thought wasn’t good enough, had been staring at her for the past twenty minutes. Under the sky of midnight velvet, she had been in this very exact position since the morning blues.

It was only when the sound of the door slammed shut that broke her out of her trance, she didn’t need to turn to know that it was Charles. “Hey, bella.” He greets, sitting on the couch behind her and she turns to give him a small smile. He knew that smile even though she had hardly smiled at him, the same exact smile when she can’t get a sketch right.

“I bought you these, it was on the way home.” Charles holds out the bouquet of baby breaths in front of her, scratching at his nape and a small grin on his face that displays his dimples. “Thanks, you didn’t have to though.” Her eyes creased into crescents, taking in the sight of the bouquet. “I know I don’t have to but I wanted to, let me do my thing as your husband yeah?”

Husband on paper but not really her husband though, doesn’t matter as long as things are working out and thank god it’s going well between them. It was an occasional thing where Charles would always arrive home with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, saying it’s on the way home and that it would be a waste if the florist didn’t sell them out.

The smile on her face probably said everything there was left unsaid and god it left Charles weak in his knees. “I’ll go and take a shower, long day today and I probably smell bad. The sketch is looking good, hope your projects are going well.” He ruffled her hair before jogging away into the master bedroom but the smell of his Creed perfume remains behind.

— 2.

Mornings had never been her favourite thing, not when she knew lectures were awaiting her the whole day or projects piling up on her load. Golden rays of the morning sun came as invitations to the day, yet she only felt dread in leaving the duvet that kept her warm and acted as a protective layer from the world beyond.

The house is empty and quiet as always, leaving her to savour the hours of mornings in freedom and solitude, not that Charles had ever been bothersome to her morning routine. The only sign of Charles that was left behind was the scent of his Dior Sauvage cologne that she had gotten him, adding to his growing collections of perfumes.

Her door left ajar when she finally untangled herself from the comfort of her sheets, dragging herself towards the kitchen where she would always find an avocado bowl and a cup of tea ready for her. There’d always be a message on her phone accompanying Charles’ gesture although she thinks of it as bothersome for him to prepare breakfast for her if he never has some of it.

It started off as a one time thing where it subsequently happened everyday after she bought him a belt in return for his actions. Everything then just happened naturally as it became a habit for her to buy him things and he’d prepare her breakfast. She’d like to think that Charles liked her taste in whatever she bought him, perfumes, jeans and dress shirts.

That one time where she caught Charles pouring a cup of tea only and putting the kettle back in place, then she only realised he never drank tea. He’d always say “It’s okay I drink some of it too so I made more and we can share.” but he never drank some of it, all of it was for her because he had a cup of cappuccino daily.

— 3.

“Bella today’s my day off, let’s go somewhere should we?” Charles pokes his head around the corner of the living room as she glances up from her sketch to catch his small grin. “I have 2 more sketches to complete but we can go. Where are we going, have you thought of it?” There had rarely been days where they ever went out together, their schedules not complying with each other.

There’s excitement in his eyes as they glint in the light, a deep happiness in the well of his dimples where she found home within, a spark that would always lead her to thrive once more. “Of course, I planned it beforehand and even if you were going to disagree, I would have come up with some other plan to drag you out.”

A giggle left her lips as Charles walked forward, hands outstretched for her to hold onto when standing up. “There’s a desk in your room, why do you always wanna make your back suffer by sitting on the floor with nothing to lean against and hunching over the coffee table.” His voice laced with concern knowing how often she had complained of a backache from the long hours sitting down.

“I just like it there, you can’t stop me because you’re not home mostly.” It wasn’t supposed to hurt but it had been like a jab towards him that made him realised his tight schedule. The least he could do to make up for the time loss was bringing her out when he was home, preparing her breakfast, tucking her into the duvets before he left or came home.

Truthfully they both knew that they never wanted to end up in an arranged marriage but what could he do except to make the most out of it? Especially when someone as gorgeous and beautiful as her, he wasn’t letting the chance slip through. “Where are we going?” She pivots on her heels to face him, her brows cocked up while looking at him. “Art Museum.”

“But you said you didn’t understand art and paintings the last time we went.” Charles only shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly before walking to his bedroom. “You’re there, you can explain everything to me. My art student for a reason, aren’t you?

— 4.

Leaving everything on the coffee table was something she always did with her colour pencils, brushes and paints all over the table. Charles had been used to that though, that’s why he had always been the one cleaning after her mess. “Leave it, I'll clear it up later.” Yet she’d always return to an organised coffee table, the packed dinner he brought back or those he cooked when he was free were already on the table.

“I’m home with dinner, go wash your hands and we can eat together.” The shuffling of Charles’ footsteps can be heard from the living room while she makes her way towards the bathroom, washing her hands of different colours and doodles. The rustling of plastic bags were heard, the sound of her colour pencils being kept away.

Yet when she rounded the corner of the living room, Charles sat there with her sketchbook in hand, flipping through where his eyes were enlarged at every sketch he flipped through. “Charles, are you snooping through my sketches?” Her eyebrows cocked up with her lips slightly lifted at the ends.

“Nooo, not at all. I was just, what do you call that? Interested but openly looking, not snooping.” He shuts the sketchbook close at her voice, pushing it to the far end of the couch and raising his hands in surrender. “Leave it there, we can look through it and I’ll explain it to you later. The projects, the drawings and everything else.”

He had eyes that spoke of all things newborn in the spring, glimmering with the small hint of excitement that hid behind the windows of a soul. “Really? You’d tell me all about it? Everything in between too?” Her smile grows of its own accord and she can either let him see what he ignited or hide it, either way, he's the most fun and adorable thing in her world.

“I would if you finish your dinner first and take a shower after, then we can go through everything you said and everything in between.” The glasses that sat on the arch of his nose only worsened the palpitations within her heart, every nook and crevice filled with adoration for him. “Then what are you waiting for? Come here, have a seat and start digging in!”

— 5.

Nothing on earth beats the atmosphere of a concert, aside from a race where Charles wins, nothing comes as close to this feeling. The crowd has a life of its own, the vibrant clothes shine in the track lights and the people move like enchanting shoals of fish.

Charles stood by her side, hands on the small of her back where he occasionally tugged her closer from the crowd. Being here, at The 1975 concert, with Charles was definitely not something she had expected since they ever got married. The back of her heels hurt from the bite of her shoes she had horribly chosen.

“You okay? I’ll get us out of here soon, my car’s parked far though, it might be quite a bit of a walk.” Charles peers down at her, oblivious to her pain and watches her face scrunch with her eyes wincing while nodding in response to him. “Are you sure you’re okay, are you tired?” And he only gets a meek smile in return, not quite like the same person he had been with during the concert. “Your feet hurts, don't they?”

She acts like it’s nothing she couldn’t handle, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly when they walked out of the concert venue. He stops his tracks along as she does by the bench nearby, then bending over to remove his Jordans and pushing her gently to sit on the bench. “What are you doing, Charles?”

He whistled to the song he had heard in the concert earlier instead of replying, kneeling by her to slip off her shoes and fit them in with his Jordan’s instead. He then turns around, patting his back as a signal for her to hop on. “C’mon, let’s go and it’s late.” But she only stared at him with her jaws hung open, processing what he had just done. “Hey come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

And when she finally relaxed herself onto his back and the comfort within her arms around his neck, his left hand carried her shoes whilst continuing his whistle and walking towards the car with only his socks. “Why are you doing this Charles, doesn’t your foot hurt with only the socks?”

“Doesn’t really matter as long as you’re okay, besides the walk to the car isn’t that far so I can handle it.” Her fingers meddled with the necklaces he wore, mostly from his sponsored brand. “Sleep with me tonight.” His abrupt remark had caused a gasp to leave her mouth, throwing him a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Isn’t that a little too straightforward?” Charles shook his head and chuckled, swaying her from side to side. “I meant together in my room, like moving into the master bedroom.” She only hummed in reply, teasing him with her short and unclear response which left him desperate. “Sure.”

#chlerc #charles #charles leclerc #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #cl16 #f1 #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 ferrari #f1 fiction #leclerc 16 #charles leclerc social media au #f1 social media au

[avis-writeshq]

valentine – tsukishima kei

w/c: 1.5kei

a/n: written for @sugardaddyreo and her valentines day event <3 sorry for how LATE this is

genre&warnings: rated 15+ for timeskips and suggestive??? ; reader wears a dress and uses makeup

summary: “i blinked and suddenly i had a valentine.”

SERVICE

I've rejected affection/For years and years

“I think I need three years worth of sleep to get over the day I just had,” You grumble, dropping your bag on the couch and wiping your face with both hands in exhaustion. At Kei’s laugh, you shoot him a pointed glare. “I mean it!”

He snorts, gently placing a hot cup of jasmine tea on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I didn’t say anything!”

Your glare softens when you take the cup of tea in your hands, the warmth radiating from the mug calming you down. “Thanks, Kei.” You take the time to look around your shared apartment, heart bursting when you notice the tidied countertop, the neatly arranged books and the vacuumed floors. “You cleaned?”

“You could use the help,” He responds nonchalantly, picking up his book. “I know how hard it is working with the new interns. You complain about it every day and come home at ungodly hours.”

You’re so moved you feel like you want to cry. So you cry. Tears prickling and building before falling when you blink. You sniffle, wiping them away with your sleeves and Kei jumps up in alarm.

“Shit, are you okay? (Y/N), baby, why are you crying?” He’s quick to grab you tissues and he runs a hand through your hair as you blow your nose. 

“I- I- I’m,” you babble like a baby, the stress from the day and the adoration you feel for your boyfriend bubbling up to the surface. “I love you so m- mu- much!”

Kei rolls his eyes at your words, holding you close to his chest. “Mhm, love you too.”

GIFTS

Now I have it and damn it/It's kind of weird

“Welcome back!” You smile, looking up from your book. “How was practice?”

“Normal,” Kei shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m gross. Gonna take a shower quickly.”

Your eyes widen, “wait, hold on, I have something for you!”

He raises an eyebrow, your comment clearly piquing his interest. 

“Okay, you have to close your eyes.” Your grin is contagious and Kei can’t help the smile that grows on his lips. He hears the opening and closing of the fridge and a cold box being placed into his hands. “And… open it!”

He does as you say and the look of surprise on his face is undeniable as he looks at the pink, white and gold cake box. The cake box in itself was incredible with gold accents and a window to see directly what it holds. And of course, you being you, decided to buy strawberry shortcake from one of the most expensive bakeries in Sendai. 

“(Y/N)...” Kei begins slowly, eyeing you. “Why did you–”

“It’s a thank you!” You beam, taking the box from his hands and opening it up. “For everything you’ve done. I mean, you’ve done so much for me I figured I could repay the favour.”

Cheeks flushed and ears red, Kei watches you cut a slice of the cake and place it onto a small white plate. Before he realises it, a cake-clad fork is waving in front of his face, a cheeky grin on yours. 

“Don’t waste it~” You say in a sing-song voice, holding out the fork to him. “C’mon, Kei, my hand’s getting tired!”

Begrudgingly, he opens his mouth to take a bite. It’s the best cake he’s ever had.

WORDS

He tells me I'm pretty/Don't know how to respond/I tell him that he’s pretty too/Can I say that? Don’t have a clue

“Kei, c’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You yell, fixing up your hair from the reflection of the fridge. 

He lets out an audible groan from the bathroom and you roll your eyes at his antics. He emerges seconds later, eyes on his wrists and adjusting his cufflinks. “Stupid celebration dinner. Do I really have to-“

Kei freezes as he looks up, his cheeks hot and ears red as his eyes follow along your body. You smile, tucking hair behind your ear as you walk up to him.

“Yes, babe, you need to come to this celebration dinner.” He flushes harder when you take his arm to fix his cufflinks, his right arm held out towards you. You chuckle at his silence, letting his arm go. “All done! Alright, we better not keep the others-”

He cuts you off curtly with a quick kiss to the lips and you feel your head explode as you stammer. “I- what?”

Kei grins teasingly – mockingly, even – despite his face being almost as red as yours. “You look pretty.”

You feel your face heat up again and you resist the urge to wipe your face to calm yourself down, lest you ruin your lashes that you so helplessly curled to the chagrin of your eyelids. After a few moments of silence (and Kei looking anywhere but you), you respond with your own teasing glint. 

“You look pretty yourself, babe.”

His teammates tease him endlessly when they see the red lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt and the slight swell to his lips. 

TIME

With every passing moment/I surprise myself/I'm scared of flies/ I'm scared of guys/Someone please help

“This is nice,” You say quietly, hands tucked under your head as you look up at the sky. The bright stars dotting the sky as you lie on the roof of the campervan. 

It’s been too long since you were able to spend time with Kei, so the moment he had more than a weekend to himself it was decided that you’d have a short road trip around the countryside of Japan. With blankets along the roof of the van, you enjoyed the serenity and the silence that the night time came with.

Kei hums from beside you, legs folded in a crossed position, head looking up at the stars. “Yeah.”

“I’ve missed you, y’know,” You reveal quietly, eyes on the stars and not looking at your lover lest you begin to cry. “Like, a lot.”

He exhales. “I know, I’m sorry.” He mumbles something else quietly and you know better than to ask. 

“How’ve you been?”

Silence echoes through the crisp midnight breeze before, “Better now that you’re here.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you turn to look up at him. “That bad?”

He groans, throwing his head back to enunciate his point. “They’re so fucking loud.”

“Worse than Kageyama and Hinata? And Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san?”

“God, they’re a million times worse.” 

You grin teasingly, “But you love them, right?”

He scoffs, “not as much as I love you.”

It’s your turn to groan, hitting him on the thigh with a satisfying slap. “You can’t just say stuff like that! It’s so embarrassing!” 

“Alright, I’ll stop, pipsqueak.”

“Oh, my god, I’m average height you asshole.”

“I don’t think anyone’s called me an asshole since high school.” 

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Maybe not to your face.”

He’s quiet before responding, “I can’t believe you called me an asshole. And here I thought you loved me.”

“Ha, as if!” You shriek as he hits you with a pillow. “Kei!”

“Yes, my dear?” He smirks as he says it – teasingly and mockingly. 

You pout, “I hate you.”

He hums, “the feeling is mutual.”

TOUCH

'Cause I think I've fallen/In love this time

You pull away from Kei’s lips, breaths mixing together and lips cherry red from the assault. Your own cheeks are hot with embarrassment as he looks at you with all the love in the world and your heart constricts. One of his arms rest against wall your back is against and his knee between your legs as his hands rest at your waist, moving only to brush hair at your face. 

You’re drunk of his kisses as you close the gap again, desperate as he presses his lips harder against yours. His glasses are long gone, tossed haphazardly on the desk beside you. He kisses your jawline and down your neck, the grip on your waist tightening with each moment. 

“God, I love you so much,” He breathes against your skin and your breath hitches at the sudden confession. “So fucking much.”

Tears prickle your eyes as he rests his forehead against yours and you loosely wrap your arms around his neck. 

“I love you, too,” You whisper, and you smile when his amber eyes meet yours. “So much.”

He reconnects your lips to his, sucking gently at your bottom lip and you can’t hold back the satisfied hum that escapes you. He kisses you with more fervour in that moment than he has the entire week and your heart swells once more at the feeling. Breaths mixing, cheeks warm and heart full, you feel his hands cup your face. 

Another confession of I love you leaves you and you relish in the way his cheeks darken and his ears turn red. He says the same.

I blinked, and suddenly I had a valentine.

reblogs are always appreciated !

#lovelanguagecollab💌 #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #tsukishima kei x reader fluff #tsukishima x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #tsukishima fluff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look What You Made Me Do 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Curtis Everett, ceo!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The conference room is set. An array of desserts sprawl across the table on trays, carafes of tea and coffee, ewers of juice, and a large jug of water. There's only one thing missing, aside from your employees. The most basic of necessities.

You search around for one of the cafe workers in their all black attire, the logo the only snatch of brightness on their being; a plume of smoke that reads Everett's. A venue recommended by several of your company members though you preferred the more corporate chain. You approach the man with the buzzcut and stubble along his jaw as sets tongs on each tray.

“Hello,” you greet him, crossing your arms. His grey blue eyes flick down at the gesture and back up. He offers an expression short of a smile. “I'm just hoping you have some cutlery. Oh, and napkins.”

“They're in the truck,” he checks his watch as he gives the monotone answer.

“Shouldn't they be up here?” You insist.

He sighs, “we're setting up. One thing at a time.”

You're taken aback by his tone. You're not in the habit of being mean to service workers but you expect more than his dismissive manner. You poke your tongue into your cheek and tilt your head.

“I understand, there's no need to be hostile,” you reproach.

“I'm not,” he takes another lid off a tray, “I'm just stating facts. You'll get your forks and knives.”

You lift your nose up. You don't like this man. He is too gruff for this business.

“Hmmm, well, thank you. I'll be sure to tell your boss how helpful you were,” you take out your phone as your words drip with sarcasm, “and so bubbly and nice.”

You scroll through your recent numbers. This was a lot of work, the type you don't usually make. The whole event was your idea, to show some appreciation for your employees, but it's left you entirely exhausted.

You hit the number you've been going back and forth with over numbers and arrangements. You step away with a trite smile and turn your back. You wait as the phone rings. It answers on the first.

“Everett's,” the short response, in double.

You blanch and hesitate to say anything more. That's odd.

“Uh, hello, I'm from–” you begin and stop again as the odd echo eeks you out. You turn and face the man with his phone in hand, the screen showing the call on speaker.

“So, you forget to order something?” The man asks.

You squint and approach him step by step. You scoff, “huh.”

“Look, I'll get the forks, happy,” he pinches a set of tongues in front of you, “if there's anything missing, I'll be more than happy to refund it.”

Your mouth pinches in irritation, “right.”

“Curtis Everett,” he drops the tongs on a tray and offers his hand, greeting you by your name.

You look at his hand and reluctantly shake it. His grip is tight, almost painful. You pull away, hiding your discomfort.

“Ma'am,” he smirks and turns on his heel.

You stand, speechless, watching him strut out. ‘Ma'am’? You… you aren't that old. Your grays aren't that bad. Are they?

You strut around the table. The coffee smells great. You pour yourself a cup of the dark roast and blow over the top. You wander around and take a careful sip. It is great coffee, you have to admit. At least to yourself.

“Locally roasted,” Curtis declares as he enters with a box under his arm. “In house, just like all our products.”

“Mm,” you lower the cup, your lipstick stained on the rim.

He puts down a tray and starts to load in bamboo cutlery from the box, nearly sorting it into the different sections.

“Bamboo?” You frown.

“Biodegradable,” he says without looking up, “we are local and sustainable.”

“I don't want splinters,” you sniff.

“Well, you could just use your hands,” he shrugs. “Or are you too good for that too?”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen, lady, I didn't come here to be treated like a dog. I came here to make sure everything was set up properly. I'm a business owner and I'm sure you know that means I could be doing something more important.”

“You could,” you agree.

“But I'm here. I'd call that attentive service,” he insists and flips the flap shut on the box, “you have a good day, ma'am. Maybe try some decaf.”

He walks back out and once more leaves you glaring

As good as the coffee is, it's not worth that man's ego.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #drabble #series #au #look what you made me do

[harfanfare]

Unique Kisses: Rollo, Che'nya, Neige

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Rollo F. (no kisses)

“May I have a kiss, please? A kind word? Any form of attention?”

“Rather not.” 

Rollo does not lift his gaze from his book. He sits too far away for you to read the title — you're separated by the whole length of the coffee table on which the service with the steaming tea stands — but you wouldn't be surprised if he was reading something religious.

You have no desire to return to the Victorian romance, a heavy volume that spreads across your lap. Yet, there are twenty-five minutes left until the end of your reading hour, a meeting you arrange every day because books are cool. You feel like you will die of boredom in three.

Maybe not from boredom, but because of something that makes you unable to focus on the present moment. You feel bad about tearing your lover away from his reading, but finally, with a heavy heart, you get up, walk around the table and sit next to him.

Your thighs touch and you let your head fall against Rollo's warm shoulder.

Immediately, you feel a little better.

“What are you doing?” Rollo doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm. He tilts his head so he can measure you with his eyes. If you looked at him even briefly, you would notice that his eyebrows have dropped slightly in an expression of concern, and his gaze has become investigative, piercing.

You sigh slightly in response, too listless to lift your eyelids, and unwittingly play with the soft tassels of his outfit.

“Please, let's do something else. The weather is so nice today...!” Your plea resembles the lament of a preschooler, especially when you bury your face in his shoulder. By that, some tension from Rollo escapes. He takes his eyes off you.

“I'd rather finish the book.”

“Then at least let me stay here, by your side. I feel extremely lonely today.”

You squeeze even more into his shoulder, warming yourself a little. His rochet-styled uniform wears the distinctive scent of incense, honey and disappointment, a perfume that is even more charming in a room that smells of tea and books. You let yourself inhale it until Rollo puts his hand on your head.

And now, you are distracted.

“Did something happen today?” He asks in a quiet, noticeably caring voice. You often hear a similar tone at night when you two return from evening prayer — whether you go there for God or for him — and Rollo is more inclined to care about everyone. Now all his attention is on you. You are a tad too intimidated and tired to respond. You only shake your head. “Well. Then let's go for a walk.”

That instantly enlivens you.

“Re... Really? You're not joking?!” You need confirmation because Rollo Flamm seldom changes his plans. You've already spent so much time with him that you can't imagine him missing a lesson for no more important reason than a bad morning attitude. And you considered yourself to be a rather imaginative person.

“You should already be aware of my lack of humour.”

You are. The little threads of romance in his body must have awakened, and you feel almost guilty for labelling him as the stiffest student in NBC. And since Rollo is being so gracious today...

“Then, can we hold hands?”

Your question throws him off balance, and you are ready to call off your request when he suddenly starts correcting the folds of his outfit to distract you and focus on staying carefree.

“...I apologize, but I might need some more time. I need to get accustomed to all that… romantic...” He starts, but then you grab his hand. The words of protest die on his tongue. He swallows the remnants of them as he grunts. “Alright. At least you won't get lost.”

(...No kissing before the wedding, though). /hj

Che'nya (insufficient kisses)

“Strawberry.”

“No.”

“Raspberry then.”

“Also no. But you're almost there.”

Che'nya presses his lips to yours for the eighth time, and you cover the label of the drink you're holding in your hands even more tightly.

Your boyfriend has decided he can guess the taste of the orangeade you're drinking. You think he knew exactly what you were drinking from the third kiss: you shared a favourite range of fizzy drinks, and there was never any indication that you intended to change it. Che'nya would have forced you to convert back if such a thing ever happened.

“Hm~” Your boyfriend hums under his breath as he moves away from your face. When you look at him unmoved, he smiles broadly. “Cher- Chestnut”.

“Duh, you already know the answer.”

“So it's a Cherchestnut?”

You sigh, and Che'nya’s smile spreads even further across his face. His white teeth flash softly as if he hasn't eaten the entire basket of cakes you baked for him and his friends' first thing in the morning.

“Now you're just being mean,” you cross your arms to have Che'nya feel accused. He leans back in his seat, and his smile does not disappear from his face.

“Am I?”

“Aren't you?”

“If I were so sweetened by your presence that my senses were going mad, would my mistakes be ‘mean’ too?” When he says this, he sits up straight and leans beside you. He takes two steps onto the bench and sinks down into your lap, facing up — and by that — facing you.

He reaches out to touch the locks of your hair falling towards him.

“Are you a madman yet?” You ask, leaning towards him with your lips pressed together in a line.

“Am I? Or am I not? Who are we all anyway?”

“I know you're an annoying boyfriend. I don't like you from now on. Oh from now on, I don't like you,” you snap your fingers, and Che'nya smiles broadly. You try to push him off your lap, but he gracefully turns before you manage to do so and then wraps his arms tightly around you.

“My love will cover the two of us,” here he places his hands on both your cheeks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You try to swat him, but then he starts to disappear. His lips and words remain last with you. “But now it is time to withdraw. I feel a strong antagonism towards me here, and I shall take my leave.”

Neige L. (the most common in a world of uncommon kisses)

Neige loves kisses.

For this reason, you find it hard to believe that he can't write a few sentences about them on his Magicam. You don't know how to prove it, though, because Neige has photos — beautiful footage from a recent photo shoot revolving around the theme of picnic and spring — that he needed to publish soon. They were now lingering in his gallery on his phone, waiting for Neige’s inspiration to strike.

“If I wasn't here, would you also have such a problem with a short description?” Your question sounded like an insincere accusation, to which Neige replied with a smile.

He had long since put his phone away in his bag. He always put it away when he wanted to give you one hundred per cent of his attention, but the subject of the photo kept hovering over the two of you because your boyfriend said he needed inspiration.

Every inspiration follows experience.

You're ready to help him any time, but not joshing with him first.

“I wouldn't write about them then. I would come up with something about spring or beauty...” He says, peering out of the wide window of his room. The view is lovely, full of greenery. Spring is coming. “But now that I have you, I can write about something as beautiful as love.”

“...Poser.”

Although that's the title you hail him with, Neige no longer responds. He cannot divide his attention, and what occupies him now is you, your face, your beautiful sparkling eyes, the shape of your ears, the lobes of which he runs his fingers over until they reach your jawline. There they stop as his attention shifts again: to your lips, the soft, smooth lips that he loves to kiss so much. And he kisses them, and everything around him loses meaning.

...

“How did it feel?” He asks, pulling you back onto the sofa. You sigh lightly.

“Is that survey to create an ideal description for the photo?”

“That's for me too. For contemplation.”

Neige looks at you with anticipation. When he sees that you need to think, he takes his eyes off you and pours fruit tea into the two cups in front of you, on the coffee table bordering a sofa.

“I don't know how to describe them. Either way, it's your job to think of something, so don't dump it on me,” you finally state, picking up the cup you've been given. You take a sip and decide to deflect the question. “And how do you feel, Neige?”

“Indescribably,” he says as he can't describe it either. Neige puts his hand over his heart and when he looks you straight in the eye, you are perfectly able to pinpoint why his fans love him so much - he looks princely. Neige sighs quietly. “I think I'm going to have to go with this spring because I don't know how to describe all the things that are bubbling up in my chest. I'll have to think about it longer.”

You pat him on the shoulder.

“Good luck with that. If you don't come up with any ideas, I can link you some fanfictions with nice descriptions.”

“Thank you, they will come in handy.”

“...They can be works with you, right?”

“...Ah.”

#...I wanted to write something for Rollo #It is probably the last thing before my exams in May... #please pray for me and wish me luck!! #twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #rollo x reader #twst rollo #rollo flamme #rollo flamm #chenya #che'nya #chenya x reader #che'nya x reader #Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker #Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker x reader #yeah i just copied his name from twst wiki :> #twst chenya #neige x reader #neige leblanche x reader #neige le blanche x reader #twst neige #neige leblanche

[cherryxblossxms]

Masturbation May - Day 5a: Edging (Barbatos)

A/N: Barbatos was suggested for day 5, edging, by the lovely @yarnnerdally! Barbatos definitely seems like the master of controlling orgasms, either his own or his lover's. But once he's past the point of no return, that control is just gone. I love me some needy demon butler~ Had a small mental block so this is late whoops

Featuring: GN reader || Barbatos x reader

Warnings: masturbation, edging; use of his gloves and his tail; cumshot; just some stress relief for a hard-working butler; mentions of oral (Barbatos receiving) and bondage with reader

Word count: 1988

══════════════════

The stress had been building up all week. Barbatos was used to a heavy schedule; he attended to the Crown Prince of the Devildom, after all, arranging and attending all sorts of meetings, handling paperwork, cleaning up the palace, and doing pest control of creatures both big and small. He was no stranger to a heavy workload, so it was rarely an issue. But for some reason, this week had been particularly grueling, barely giving him a chance to recuperate.

It also didn't help that during this week, you'd been busy with your own things, studying for an upcoming exam and thus unable to visit the castle like you usually did. Your presence was always a source of stress relief for Barbatos, a comforting and anchoring presence that helped him stay grounded through all sorts of trials and tribulations. But any time you found an opening in your schedule, he was already , and vice versa. It just wasn't in the stars for him to see his beloved's face, it seemed, and it left him feeling restless and unfulfilled.

One of his favorite forms of stress relief was acts of service with you, baking you new sweets and making you delicious tea, just getting the time to sit down with you and indulge in your aura. Sometimes, he simply needed your kisses and cuddles, sharing a soft moment in private to simply hold each other close.

However, when the tension levels were overwhelming, his methods of stress relief could be on the... rougher side. You'd been a little shocked, to say the least, to discover Barbatos' love of ropework. He enjoyed tying up a willing victim every now and then, not always for sexual reasons, and he was both glad and relieved when you seemed to take a liking to it. Something about seeing you wrapped up in pretty patterns of rope or ribbon satisfied him immensely, and you two had taken to doing a lengthy session every so often to blow off steam.

And when just the ropework wasn't enough, Barbatos liked to use your body for stress relief, too. He preferred taking his time in bed with you, working you up slowly, deeply, building up a massive wave of pleasure to crash over you in the most delicious mind-numbing, limb-shaking way when you finally peaked. He was a master at orgasm control, and it left your mind reeling after every session. But on occasion, he could play fast and rough, too, pounding you against the wall or over the coffee table if he was too worked up or you'd been riling him up all day. It was times like that that you were reminded he was a demon first, and a butler second. But he knew you enjoyed every second of it.

Today, the tension finally came to a head after dealing with a particularly troublesome noble, spending the better part of an hour arguing over a new policy during an important meeting. Although Barbatos rarely got angry, the noble had seemed determined to test his patience left and right. Once the meeting had ended, he left the room with a pounding headache and fists tightly clenched, using everything in his will to maintain his composure. Thankfully, Diavolo could tell something was going on and left him alone, going back to his paperwork without any prompting from his faithful butler.

Barbatos made his way to his room quickly, just wanting to be in a quiet safe space to work out his anger. Checking his D.D.D., there were no new messages from you, and he couldn't help but sigh. His usual source of comfort was missing and his body ached to let it all out, relieve all his stress into you in only the way you could handle. Now that his usual option was unavailable, as he'd be remiss to pull you away from your studies just to help his selfish desires, he could only think of one other thing to do.

He willed his mind to focus on more pleasurable memories, trying to replace his negative feelings with something better. If he couldn't have you in person, he could at least enjoy your presence in the form of his thoughts, conjuring memories of your last rope session with him, remembering the way the rope hugged your limbs as you hung suspended, the tie pattern he'd used complementing the shape of your body and keeping you immobilized and vulnerable to his skillful ways. It had been a particularly passionate session, the room air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat from how long you two had been at it.

As he recalled the lusty look in your eyes, he remembered the way your mouth had hung open in a silent scream as he brought you to climax several times, and he could feel himself harden, wanting to see those expressions on you once more. Barbatos let himself relax into his demon form, finally, slipping off his jacket and sitting at the edge of his bed. He knew he didn't have too long to dedicate to this, but it was either he explode in a pleasurable way, or a dangerous way, and figured the former would be best.

He started palming himself over his pants, the pressure providing a small bit of relief, and released himself from his pants before long. He kept his gloves on as he continued stroking himself, enjoying the feel of the fabric against his shaft. That was another thing you seemed to enjoy, when he kept his gloves on during sex, and he could see why you enjoyed it so much. The unfamiliarity of the sensation did bring a new level of pleasure to things, only serving to feed into his growing lust.

Perhaps because he was so pent up, Barbatos could already feel his climax approaching. But he could still feel the tendrils of anger and frustration from earlier, the whole reason he was trying to relieve himself now, and realized cumming now wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as he'd like. He started to stroke a finger beneath the head of his cock where it was most sensitive, shivering and twitching in need, and his climax grew ever closer the faster he stroked. But just as the pleasure began to crest, he pulled his hand off his cock, stopping his orgasm in its tracks.

He could see his shaft throb, signals thrown out of whack at the sudden loss of sensation. He gave himself a moment, waiting for the pleasure to retreat before restarting his ministrations. Now precum was leaking from his tip, a tiny river oozing down his shaft, and he pressed a finger to his head to see the glistening strand it made when he pulled away. The urge to taste himself was strong, but he simply continued his movements, now using his pre as lube as he stroked his shaft again.

His body was growing hot, and he could feel the last vestiges of anger leave his system, now able to focus solely on his pleasure. One of his favorite parts of sex with you was utilizing orgasm control in your pleasure, but it was just as effective on himself. He loved the way you grew desperate with him, rocking your hips as he toyed with your arousal until you were begging for relief. And especially when he had you bound, and no amount of wriggling was going to free you or get you any closer to your orgasm, your begging was music to his ears. Your eventual orgasm was made just that much better, and it affected him as well, a bright display of fireworks going off in his mind when he joined you at that pleasurable peak.

Speaking of orgasm, his own climax was quickly approaching once more, all ready to go from the first session. He continued pumping his hand, bringing his fingers over the sensitive head of his cock, chasing after that delicious feeling. But once more, as his pleasure rose up in front of him, he stopped his movements and instead squeezed the base of his cock hard, his orgasm cut off once more.

By now, two denied orgasms left him with a terrible ache in his balls, the head of his cock a deep red from all the blood flow and stimulation. Barbatos' whole body was thrumming, his heart pumping hard from the repeated excitement, and all his mind could think of now was finally cumming. He gave himself a calculated moment to just sit, letting his pleasure die down so he wouldn't ruin himself accidentally.

How he wished you were with him, providing him this relief instead. You always knew just how to touch him, learned how to stroke him just right or use your tongue in wicked ways. He imagined you now, kneeling between his legs and letting him use your mouth as he saw fit. He could envision the way your lips wrapped around his shaft, your hands pumping whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth or stroking his balls, and it made his cock twitch in need to just release down your throat.

Barbatos glanced at the clock and saw he didn't have much time left until he had to prepare dinner for the Young Lord. His tail flicked unconsciously at the edge of his vision, body still itching for relief, and an idea came to mind as to how to end his session.

He leaned over and opened the drawer to his bedside table, finding a small bottle of lube he kept on hand for you, and squirted some onto his cock, shivering at the cold feeling. Leaning back on his hands, he then lifted the end of his tail and let the two tendrils wrap around his shaft. He rarely used his tail to play with himself (on you was a different story), but much like wearing the gloves had done, the difference in sensation really brought new pleasure to the game.

He began moving his tail, stroking leisurely at first before increasing the pace, a wet squelching sound resounding in his room along with his quiet pants. The feeling was addicting, being able to have one end of the tendril wrapped around his base, squeezing and rubbing alternatively, while the other could focus on his head, rubbing up on his frenulum repeatedly. He reached a hand down and tugged on his full balls that were just aching to release already, urging his body on as he squeezed and played with them. The combination of sensations was honestly devastating and his orgasm rose again quickly. This time, Barbatos let the tidal wave of pleasure wash over him, his balls constricting before hot spurts of cum shot out, drawing a low moan from his throat.

His tail kept up its rhythm for a moment, making sure to draw out every drop of cum he could, before releasing and letting his spent shaft rest against his belly. Barbatos took a deep breath, feeling his heartbeat throb throughout his body, and was relieved to notice his tension was all gone. Of course, it didn't quite scratch the itch he'd developed to relieve his stress with you, but for now, it did wonders for his mood and would tide him over until you were eventually freed from your obligations.

He collected himself and glanced down, seeing one of his gloves had caught some of his spend, and he worked on redressing with a new set of gloves, slipping on his jacket and adjusting everything into tip-top shape. As he mentally prepped himself for going back to work, he made a note to himself to discuss some time off with Diavolo. This little session had helped him to work off some tension, but he knew the sooner he saw you, the sooner he would feel truly right as rain, and he couldn't wait until you were all his once more.

#barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #barbatos smut #spicy minx 🔥 #the minx can write ✍️

[wheres-mylove]

black sabbath? | eddie munson x fem!reader

Summary: You know that feeling when you find out that your friend has a massive crush on your older sister, but you can't do anything about it, even though you don't approve, since they just have to love the same music band? No? Because Dustin Henderson does. 

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language!

Word count: 3.1k

➸ You can read part two here! 

(Y/N) Henderson really loved her brother. Most of the time. Because there were also times when he played on her nerves in a way no one else did.

“So Iron Maiden after all? Great choice! I'll get your change right away,” the girl said with a practiced smile, handing the customer a wad of bills over the counter. “Have a nice day!”

She waited a few moments until the guy (satisfied with the amazing service) left the store. And then she opened the door to the back room, which she had previously slammed shut.

“Why aren't you being so kind to me?” asked Dustin reproachfully, not caring in the least about his sister's deadly stare as he sat in a room theoretically for employees, with a mug of tea in hand. “Oh well. They pay you to do that here.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and leaned against the counter.

“I'm going to get fired because instead of letting me do my job in peace, you're making me listen to your ranting.”

“It's not ranting, woman. It's the story of my life.”

“If your life boils down to D&D, then it's no wonder you're getting bullied at school, Dusty,” (Y/N) sighed, arranging the vinyls that had been laid out by the previously-hosted lover of heavy sounds. She laughed at the sight of her brother's scowling face. “Just kidding. Wind up. But if someone walks in, for God's sake, tone it down.”

“Well, as I was saying-” Dustin set his mug down on the table with a bang so he could gesture freely. “Lucas acted in an outrageous manner. I was convinced we'd have to postpone the whole campaign. Mike and I nearly shit ourselves. I was like, man, Eddie will get so freaking mad...”

“I swear I'm going to start counting how many times the word Eddie comes out of your mouth,” announced (Y/N) with a smile. “Eddie this, Eddie that. Like a teenager in love.”

“Woah, take it easy. I won't tell you anything if you keep on being rude.”

“Promise?”

“He told us to find a sub for Sinclair and we were so screwed.” (Y/N) let the air out slowly through her nose. He wouldn't shut up so easily. “Absolutely nobody wanted to play with us. I fucking called Steve.”

“You also fucking called me. You've obviously hit the rock bottom.”

“Why can't you come actually? We somehow convinced Erica, but I thought she'd also say no, just out of spite. You know the rules, why can't you get your ass there?”

“I let children have their fun!” she exclaimed, bringing the pile of vinyls back to their rightful place. “In all seriousness, though, I'm going to the championship game.”

“You hate basketball.”

“First of all, unlike you, I appreciate that Lucas has worked hard for a place on the team... ”

“Don't be so supportive, he's warming the bench.”

“A sportsman spoke up. Secondly, Robin plays with the orchestra. My ears will fall off, but she's my friend. Gotta survive,” (Y/N) explained further. A wry smile suddenly dawned on her face. “Well, maybe I'll try my hand as Harrington's wingman. Can you believe that he came to me for love advice? But I don't think he's gonna make progress. He recently complimented a chick's forehead.”

Dustin laughed so hard that the tea almost went up his nose.

In a final act of grace (Y/N) agreed to drive her brother home once he and his friends had finished their campaign. However, she began to regret it. The basketball game was long over, Lucas disappeared with his new friends, Robin went home, and Steve was probably exchanging saliva with his temporary sweetheart. 

She drummed her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, with only Black Sabbath blasting from the speakers to keep her company.

“Can you help me, occupy my brain?” she sang along with the vocalist. (Y/N) could use the help, as she was growing tired of waiting in the car and staring blankly at the front door. Suddenly they opened, revealing several laughing teenagers, followed by an extremely joyful Erica Sinclair. The beloved brother was nowhere to be seen. 

(Y/N) leaned out of the car window.

“Erica!” she called out, at which the girl turned toward the parking lot, searching for the owner of the voice with her eyes. “Where's my little dipshit?”

“Inside!”

(Y/N) decided that she had waited long enough. It was time to use violence. She jumped out of the car and ran up to the door. Erica waited.

“We won because of me,” she stated with undisguised pride, raising her head. “You will drive me home. Make it quick.”

“Congratulations and... okay? Sure, I'll drive you. You asked so politely,” (Y/N) replied, spreading her arms, as the girl apparently did not wait for her answer. Let's find Dustin.

It wasn't that complicated. She was led by the faint light from the room where they were playing D&D and the loud voice of.... well, the Master himself.

“Gentlemen, what a game that was! I'm impressed, really. Now it's your turn to flatter me. Yes, Eddie, what a thoughtful campaign. Shock. Wheeler, be careful with that figurine. I will scalp you if you do any damage.”

“Let's speed this up, because my sister will scalp us if we don't show up right away,” muttered Henderson, to which (Y/N) nodded, leaning nonchalantly against the door frame. They had not yet noticed her arrival.

“Too late,” she spoke up out of the blue, at which Mike jumped up, Dustin screamed, and the oldest member of the merry men turned abruptly in her direction.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he screeched, clutching his chest. “Don't do that again.”

(Y/N) took a better look at the infamous Munson. She had seen him before, before she graduated, but they had never officially met. It was hard not to notice a wisp of dark unruly hair, tattooed forearms, a crazy grin and... eyes. Beautiful eyes, to be honest. She never paid much attention to them. Oh fuck. 

At first frightened by her sudden appearance in the room, Eddie didn't register who he was talking to. Unbelievable. He had passed this pretty creature in the hallway many times in the past year, but never had the courage to do more than admire her from afar.

Wait, this is Dustin's sister? This is his sister? He has been playing D&D with her little brother all this time and didn't even have a clue.

He thanked the higher power that (Y/N) was busy scolding Dustin, as he stood, grinning like an idiot, just happy to be there. Mike glanced in his direction fleetingly and raised his eyebrows. Finally, the attention of the Henderson siblings shifted to Munson. Eddie's head spun when she looked at him. No, man. Get your head in the game. You need to make a good impression.

Dustin grunted. He figured it would be polite to make the presentation now.

“This is my older sister, (Y/N).”

The aforementioned sister sent a smile in Eddie's direction that almost brought him off his feet. Damn. He's a metalhead. Metalheads. Don't. Blush.

“Dustin talks about you all the time, so let me guess that you must be...” (Y/N) began, extending her right hand to him, but before she could finish, Eddie decided to go with the first thing that came to mind.

“My name is Lucifer, please take my hand.” He laughed and finally shook her hand. He could have sworn he felt more than something. The light touch stirred up a sea of sparks within him. And Eddie didn't consider himself as a fan of clichés. Well.

(Y/N) Henderson squinted her eyes, with head held confidently high. And then she smiled, but this time more mischievously.

“I prefer it sung by Ozzy, but your version will do,” she replied quietly. In an almost flirtatious manner.

Oh, boy. You are lost, Eddie Munson.

Dustin was one step away from knocking a head on the table. Either his own, or the one belonging to his older friend.

“Get away from me. Absolutely not. Forget it,” repeated Henderson for the hundredth time, waving his fork warningly in Munson's direction. “I swear I'll stab you with it if you ask me about her again.”

Eddie wasn't too concerned about Dustin's threat. He continued to hang around with a fierce look on his face. Henderson looked up, silently praying for the strength to endure Eddie Munson's nagging. 

It had been a week since his sister had appeared in Leviathan's den, and his D&D master had gone completely mad for her. Why didn't Dustin tell him that his sister (Y/N) was in fact that (Y/N)? She listens to Black Sabbath, but what else? What is she interested in? Where can they hang out? Dustin should bring her to the next game. By the way, has she ever played D&D? Does she have a boyfriend?

Is that how she felt when he was telling her all about Munson? Guilt washed over him. He didn't know it was possible to become that annoying.

“No crushing on (Y/N) on my watch!” he finally shouted, at which Eddie jumped up. And so did several people seated closest to them.

Mike Wheeler just laughed and patted Dustin on the back.

“Chill out, man.”

“You fucking Judas, whose side are you taking? You're a brother yourself. That's our shitty role. To beat the admirers off with a stick,” Dustin muttered, resting his chin on his hand. He turned toward Munson, sending him a suspicious look.

“What are your intentions?”

“Foul,” replied Eddie without flinching. 

“You are disgusting.”

The boy straightened up, sending his friends a wide smile. He thought for a moment, then put his hands on their shoulders.

“You don't understand anything, don't you? I feel that this is my year. That it will be different. I will finally graduate, snatch that diploma. My dream is to flip Higgins the bird and run as far away from this shithole as possible, to start a new life,” Eddie said with conviction and hope that there is simply no other option. “But I have some unfinished business, you see. When I had the opportunity to talk to (Y/N) at school, I chickened out. However, I see that fate is giving me a second chance to make things right.”

“Have mercy,” muttered Mike to Dustin, but he shook his head with a disapproving look.

Henderson was as stubborn as a mule. But Mike's patience also had its limits. That's why, when an exasperated Dustin marched out of the cafeteria, Wheeler leaned toward Munson and whispered in confidence that (Y/N) was currently not seeing anyone. Then it casually slipped out that she works at the record store. The one near the library. It also slipped out that she works an opening shift on Saturdays. By accident. 

Oops.

Eddie Munson couldn't remember the last time he was so stressed. Maybe when that damn weed was almost found in his backpack. Or when Wayne was lecturing him after he had returned from a band rehearsal in a not-quite-sober state.

He was about to talk to a girl he was pining over. Heck, he won't be able to. Maybe he will? Or maybe he won't. He could always turn his van around and pretend that he had no intention of going to that fucking store in the first place.

He stopped at a red light and glanced nervously at the glove box. He put a cassette in there. Maybe he was going insane, but he already knew she liked Black Sabbath. So he collected a few tracks with a similar vibe and signed it with a black marker. From Eddie :) 

He had no idea why he did it, or how he was supposedly going to hand it to her, since they had talked just once. It would appear that he was thinking of her. She would consider him a proper freak.

But there's no denying it, he was indeed thinking. He was listening to a song and then the question came to him whether she would like it too.

Green light. It wasn't that far. He had to devise a plan. He desperately needed a plan. After all, he won't march in there and tell her that he's liked her for a long time, but he gets so nervous in her presence that he can't form a proper sentence. Christ, what a fool he will make of himself.

He parked the van and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was disheveled as usual. Yeah, charming. He opened the glove box and pulled out that wretched cassette. Maybe it would be appropriate to practice what he was going to say. No. Then he would panic.

“I'm going,” he said to motivate himself. And off he went.

The idea of running away came up exactly four times. He counted.

The bell at the door marked his arrival deafeningly loud, or at least that was his impression. There was no customer in the store, but it was empty behind the counter, too. Good. Nobody's home. He's gonna just...

“Just a minute! I'll be right there!” called out (Y/N) from the back room.

Under normal circumstances, he would have waltzed out now. But what stopped him was N.I.B. playing in the background. He smirked. 

“Cool song!” he exclaimed in a sudden burst of boldness. 

(Y/N) Henderson almost went down with a heart attack hearing his voice. Son of a bitch had an excellent timing. She took advantage of the fact that he couldn't see her now. It won't be that fun when she'll have to look him in the eye.

“Yes, someone reminded me how much I like it.”

She took the cardboard box of records with her, but not to unpack them, at least not at the moment. She was gonna use it as a shield against her brother's dangerously handsome friend. It almost fell out of her hands when she saw him leaning against the counter. 

Hands on full display. Tattoos. Rings. 

“Eddie Munson,” she greeted in a polite tone reserved for the store's customers. And for the people she liked. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“I was passing by and spontaneously thought I'd take a look.”

(Y/N) found this to be a reasonable explanation, but Munson nearly burst into laughter.

“In that case, can I help you with something?” she asked with a smile, pointing to something with her thumb. “Heavy metal in that alley over there.”

Eddie strolled slowly through the store, but he hadn't come here to buy anything. His gaze kept returning toward the counter. (Y/N) tried to pretend she wasn't aware of that.

“So,” began Munson, Paranoid vinyl in his hands. “Black Sabbath?”

“Hell yeah,” replied (Y/N), crossing her arms over her chest. “I hope you know that you've scored some points with that lyrics, N.I.B. is one of my favorites.”

“Devil falling in love,” whispered Munson, before he had time to think it over carefully. “What a familiar concept.”

(Y/N) Henderson felt suddenly overwhelmed by his intense gaze. The tension was almost unbearable. 

“Aren't you of those who interpret this as a deception to the depths of hell?”

“One does not exclude the other,” Eddie replied simply, putting the record back in place. Now it was his turn to tremble under her watchful gaze. “I lied earlier.”

(Y/N) furrowed her brow.

“Excuse me?”

Eddie decided that he had enough of beating around the bush. May Ozzy Osbourne protect him.

“I specifically came here to see you,” he explained, covering his face with a strand of dark hair. “Mike told me I would find you here. Dustin I couldn't force. He declared himself the protector of your honor.”

(Y/N) thought that she had overheard at first. Just the fact that Eddie was so close and talking to her about music was already a lot. And now she finds out that he came here for her? Then the second part of his statement reached her ears and she started laughing.

Yes, typical Dustin. Little brother in shining armor.

Munson couldn't hold back a smile at the sight of her laughing face. He reached into his jacket pocket for the tape and decided that it's once in a lifetime occasion.

“I wanted to give you this, too. Maybe it's a little silly, but our tastes are similar, so...” he said, walking up to the counter and handing it to her.

(Y/N) wasn’t laughing anymore when she accepted the gift. She turned it in her hands, then looked at him with big doe eyes. Eddie's heart melted.

“Thank you,” she choked out, touched by this small gesture. No one had made a compilation especially for her until now. “I'll listen to it as soon as I get home.”

“The first one is N.I.B.” Eddie smiled softly. “I hope you like the rest of it as well.”

Their little soap bubble of mutual adoration burst when two women entered the store with the ring of a bell. Both (Y/N) and Eddie frowned at the sight. Zero privacy. Someone had the audacity to go shopping.

Eddie Munson scratched his neck nervously and lowered his gaze.

“I'm sorry for bothering you at work for so long. I should get going,” the boy apologized, then pointed to a stack of records. “Your prices are astronomical. Making up for it with customer service though.”

(Y/N) only then realized that Eddie was about to go. He'll leave her here for the rest of the shift with a smoldering hope and an adorable choice of gift. Definitely not happening.

“Wait,” she called as Munson was already turning to leave, to which he immediately turned back.

“Yes?” She'd tell him to leave, he'd leave in a hurry. She'd tell him to wait, he won't budge.

“How can I return the favor?” she asked, lifting up the tape. “A serious question. I don't like being in debt.”

Eddie stood for a moment with his mouth open, searching for the right answer.

“This is the part when you ask me out,” prompted (Y/N) suddenly, coming to the rescue.

“Would you say yes?”

“Oh, come on, you dumbass.”

Eddie barely made it to the car, but had to sit down for a long moment and recover. He could still feel the subtle touch of her lips on his cheek. 

He managed to get a date with a gorgeous girl who listens to Black Sabbath.

Thanks, Ozzy.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson one-shot #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine

[purpleajisai]

"Promise"

Chapter 2: Hatachi

> Chapter 1

Madara Monday!

Notes: This chapter is centred in the brotherhood dynamic of Madara (20 years old) and Izuna (17 years old). You may notice several references to being 20 years old (hatachi / 二十歳), which had been considered the age of maturity for centuries, both culturally and legally in Japan. Here you have two links on the subject if you’re interested: link 1 link 2

Hatachi

A cold breeze entered from the half-shut windows of a simple room, furnished by a desk and many shelves stacked to the top with documents. Two men were working together, opening the fancy seals of delicately crafted scrolls. Madara, who had just become an adult according to his clan’s custom, was scowling at the workload. Even more than usual. His eye bags were nearly the colour of his navy blue robe as it was clear he hadn’t been sleeping well for several days. As the sound of another seal being opened by his brother snapped him out of his choleric state of mind, he turned his head and read the message.

“If I get another damn marriage arrangement proposal from that daimyo once again, I will burn his lands to a crisp!”, he exclaimed as soon as he saw the title of the message. This particular daimyo had already sent him five requests. One for each daughter he had, trying to blindly guess what sort of woman Madara would like.

“Well, this guy is determined to get one of his daughters into this clan one way or another. Goodness, let’s hope I don’t have to deal with him once I’m 20!”, Izuna replied. The younger Uchiha shook his head and handed his brother a blank scroll for him to write a rejection letter once again.

“I will be blatant with him this time. I’ll make it clear that if I get another proposal from him, we will never provide services to his lands ever again.”

Madara submerged his brush on the suzuri, letting the black ink be soaked into the bristles and then he started writing with a frown. Izuna peeked at the contents of the reply and was quick to interrupt, slamming his palm onto the table.

“No, elder brother! Not like that! You can’t be so rude, he pays well for our services! Just say something like… um, you’re not looking for a wife? That you don’t want to rush it?”

“I’m done with this crap. You write the rejection letter and I’ll drink some of the tea before it gets cold.”

Izuna simply rolled his eyes and smiled a little. He knew that his brother was stressed and that it was best to let him relax before he got back to the many duties of a clan leader. After redacting a polite rejection letter explaining that Madara had too much on his plate to go and tie the knot, Izuna closed the scroll and closed it with a ribbon. Madara was finishing his mug of tea while gazing into the horizon through the window, so Izuna decided to snap him off of his trance by patting his shoulder.

“You should cheer up a bit, elder brother. Take the constant requests from many daimyo as a flattery or something. You think any sane, rich man would want his daughter to marry a bad catch? We’re a powerful clan, we have lands and prestige! I would safely bet a nice barrel of umeshu that the daimyo were counting the days until you turned 20 to start sending these.” 

Madara, now more present in the moment, put down his mug and sighed as soon as he glanced at the mountain of similar messages on the desk. Sure, he had a big ego but this wasn’t the way in which he wanted to be appreciated. He lowered his head and ran a hand through his pitch black hair before speaking in a rather quiet voice.

“If Father was here, I wouldn’t have to deal with all of this nonsense. Instead of writing the same rejection letter over and over again, I could actually have time to find a partner for life and read my books. I don’t think I’m doing a good job at this clan leader thing, Izuna.”

“Oh come on, you’re doing amazing! You’ve been the youngest leader this clan has ever seen and we’re seeing an improvement in many areas. When was the last time we had more than ten  trained doctors, hm? Or the last time we got over 30 customers?”, the younger man replied with a comforting voice to cheer the worn down leader while quickly skimming through another message. The mention of their father was a sensitive topic, as both men missed him dearly. 

“Being the youngest clan leader ever comes with a downside. I don’t remember the end of my teens and the start of my adulthood. It suddenly came to an end as soon as I swore in that ceremony and renounced part of my independence. Would Father be proud of the way I’m handling things? Maybe I’m too immature and selfish for this.”

“Of course he would be proud. Don’t you remember what he used to say every single time he took us to battle with him?”

“You’d have to narrow it down. He was always saying that you tied your sash the wrong way, hah!”, he joked. Izuna grinned slightly as his attempt to lighten the mood was working. Then, the younger brother cleared his throat and made his best imitation of their late father’s voice.

“This clan crest entails the great honour of a caste of mighty warriors. It is a symbol of strength and duty”. Madara laughed as Izuna made a small parody of their father. When they were boys, they’d dislike having their father constantly saying such things. But now it was a fond memory.

Madara didn’t reply to that, he simply pondered silently about what it meant to be… himself. The prodigy, the wielder of a mangekyou sharingan, the clan leader, the son, the older brother. That was until he spotted something from the corner of his peripheral vision just seconds later. What caught his eye was the sight of his beloved younger brother piling up all of the leftover messages from daimyo who were in a haste to get their daughters married. 

“Hey, what are you doing? Leaving those for later?”

“Um, technically I am. Or I am not.”

Izuna then held all the scrolls in both hands and channelled his chakra through his fingers, causing the paper to burst into flames and burn down into mere seconds. Madara was impressed, that was a dangerous move! 

“No! We have to reply or we could lose the good relationships with those lands! You were the one suggesting that we reply politely!”, he cried out, using his hands and another piece of paper to try and make the fire die down.

“We can’t keep wasting time! These people know that you’re not interested and yet keep sending requests! I am indeed an advocate for harmonious diplomacy but this is getting repetitive and useless! I’ve read through them all and it’s the exact same daimyo as always!”

Izuna exclaimed with a hint of anger while throwing the remains of the burnt paper to a bucket that served as a trash can and shaking the ash off his fingers. While Izuna was the one who always helped Madara avoid unnecessary problems caused by the shinobi’s sharp tongue and disdain for weaker ninja, he drew the line at wasting his time with menial tasks. That was the only case in which Izuna would allow himself to have a more aggressive approach.

Madara simply sighed and looked at the pile of ash in the trash can. That must have been at least 50 scrolls, all of which were marriage arrangement proposals. He couldn’t understand why so many adult men, most of which were well educated, would be so eager to have their daughters marry a complete stranger only because of his power and status. It made the idea of marriage become shallow, as if it were only a tool. There were a series of important doubts clouding his mind: would he ever find someone that saw beyond the outside? Someone who saw his heart below the many layers of duty? What people would call a “soulmate”?

After two long hours of working side by side, the brothers called it a day and began to classify the scrolls into the many shelves of the room. One shelf contained the scrolls to be sent with a messenger hawk in the morning, another one served as an archive for the clan’s accounting, a third one was a record of the daimyo who had requested their service as mercenaries and so on. Madara arched his eyebrows at the many service requests that Izuna had handled, then looking at the much smaller amount of accounting and negotiating he had done that was now piled in the shelves.

“You’re quite the productive man, eh?”

“Oh please elder brother, taking care of the requests is simply saying yes or no. You have to do maths, economics and those things. You’re the clan leader, you deal with the main stuff.”

“I wouldn’t have the time to do this if you didn’t help me with those boring service requests. Don’t put yourself down, Izuna.”

“Hm. May I ask something, elder brother?”

“Shoot.”

“Was any of those proposals from… Fuyumi~?”, he said in a mocking tone to his brother. Izuna knew that Madara was slowly catching feelings for that young woman. And in fact, he would be glad if the two ended up together. They were a good duo in the battlefield and knew each other even before they learned how to speak. But Izuna was still in his late teens, so he would never treat the subject seriously at this point. What kind of younger brother misses the chance to annoy his older brother?

Madara had somehow sensed that Izuna would find a way to involve his crush on Fuyumi. So instead of saying a comeback, he jokingly slapped his brother’s nape and laughed.

“Shut up, you little rascal! Finish that so we can go greet Father!”

“Haha! Fine, fine, I’m almost done. But you can’t deny that you wish one of those proposals was from Fuyumi~”

“Hmph! I said shut up!”

Izuna continued to make jabs at his brother until they finally finished stacking the scrolls in their respective places. When the two men in charge of running the Uchiha clan stepped out of the office towards the little graveyard beside the house, the position of the moon indicated it was midnight. Both of them sat down before a long tombstone and placed incense in front of it, perhaps even praying for the soul whose name was engraved in the rock. Izuna broke the silence and nudged Madara with his elbow.

“Elder brother…”

“What is it?”

“Don’t put yourself down. I’m proud of you. And I’m sure Father’s proud of you, wherever he may be now.”

Madara smiled softly at his brother and put an arm over his shoulder. Izuna had been much too young when they lost their father, so the least an older brother could do was comfort a hurt and grieving young man. A single tear rolled down the clan leader’s cheek as many thoughts filled his mind. He remembered his father, all of his advice and what he should do once he grew up. One particular piece of advice resonated within his memories.

“Find yourself a good woman just like I found your mother. Someone whom you will love, protect and cherish. And help your brother find one as well when the time comes, after you both turn 20. You two are meant to stick together and watch each other’s backs.”

Being 20 years old and a clan leader surely did entail a lot of responsibilities, but at least his little brother was proud of him.

#madara monday #fanfic #madara #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #izuna #izuna uchiha #uchiha izuna #oc: fuyumi uchiha

[tolsunflowerboi]

MadaTobi Week 2023

DAY 2 - Teahouse/Teacher

One Lump Or Two - Find it on AO3 here!

Madara was on a mission. Madara was on an important mission and he will not get distracted. Not by the stage full of musicians and dancing performed by a handful of hosts at the far end of the room. Not by the sweet tasting alcohol being plied to every person who had a few spare coins to spend. And not by the quiet and pretty looking maiko who was currently serving tea at the table he was meant to be eavesdropping on. 

(The maiko was very pretty, with pale, jade-like skin and locks of silky white hair twisted into a simple but flattering style. Madara could see their long pale fingers as they peeked out of their sleeves when pouring the tea, before their hands returned to their lap. Maybe if he used his sharingan he could… No. He would not get distracted.)

Pulling his eyes away from the distracting maiko, he let his gaze drift around the rest of the room, taking in the other patrons. Madara was certain he wasn’t the only one staking out these particular targets; according to the Uchiha’s informants, the three men were journeying back from the capital after several meetings with the new Daimyo. They would be fools not to try and gain any information about the new Daimyo before their first summit at the Capitol. 

He was pretty confident that the two people at one of the front tables were Nara, based purely on the fact that one was face down on the table, seemingly asleep, and the other didn’t look too far behind. There was also a blonde dancer that passed frequently by their table that looked vaguely like a Yamanka. Madara couldn’t pinpoint an Akimichi; but where two of those Clans were, the third was never far behind. 

“May this one offer her guest more sake?” An older Maiko held a bottle, tipped invitingly, near his table, but Madara shook his head; the sweet flavour was nice but a bit too sickly for his taste. 

“This one can fetch an alternate flavour if her guest desires, or,” the Maiko tilted her head, drawing his eyes and bringing the other distracting Maiko back into view, “This one can arrange for a tea service if that would be preferable.” 

Madara twitched, catching the teasing smile on the Maiko’s face and felt himself flush. Apparently his, ah, appreciation, of the younger Maiko had not gone unnoticed. 

“Wh- I don’t- I…” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath to calm himself, while the Maiko giggled quietly beside him. Collecting himself, Madara nodded to the Maiko, “I’ll consider the offer but I’m content as I am for now, thank you.” Nodding in acceptance, the Maiko smiled and moved to another table, leaving him to focus back on his targets.

(The younger Maiko had disappeared, the table’s tea service obviously complete, and Madara tried not to feel disappointed. Maybe he could come back after his mission was finished and request a tea service for himself?)

Scolding himself for getting distracted again, Madara idly passed the time by watching the others around him, filing away the tidbits of information let slip by the increasingly loose-lipped nobles. 

There was a  group of young men near the stage drinking enough alcohol that you could barely see their table under all the bottles. (The new Daimyo already had ties with the Land of Iron through his first wife.)

The most-likely-a-Yamanka dancer had shifted their attention to a haughty looking pair a few tables over from the suspected Nara. Judging by the pair's long hair bangs, they were likely Hyuga; which made their stiff backed disdain for the blondes needling all the more entertaining. (There was talk of raising taxes on all imports and exports from the Capitol.)

His the Maiko was making their way over to his table with a tray of tea and settling down beside him, close enough that he could make out the pale eyelashes brushing the top of their cheeks when they blinked. (The Daimyo was offering more backing and money to the samurai, outsourcing more missions to them.)

There was a scuffle at the rear by the kitchen between some - wait WHAT?

Madara jerked his head round, staring wide eyed as the pretty Maiko prepared the cups of tea in front of them. “Wait I-” He stopped, clearing his throat and trying again, “I apologise, but I didn’t order tea, I think you’ve come to the wrong table.” As much as he wanted them to stay, Madara also didn’t want them to get in trouble with other customers for missing their orders. 

(The Maiko was even prettier up close, their beauty highlighted by their makeup; a light blush over their cheeks and their bottom lip an eye catching red. Their robes were flattering; the material tucked and layered to emphasise their slim waist, while the long, wide sleeves made their hands seem dainty and delicate.)

“This one’s guest is correct, however this one’s older sister insisted on this service, paid for by the house of course, for the enjoyment of the guest.” His Maiko’s voice was lower than expected, but fitting in a way he couldn’t describe. He flicked his eyes up while the other poured his drink, catching sight of the older Maiko who had been by his side earlier in the night standing across the room. She gave him a small smile and pointed look, dipping her head towards the younger Maiko at his side. 

(Any thoughts about the drunk nobles ceased to exist; he’d picked up plenty of information and the three drunkards were basically unconscious at their table. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to indulge in some time with his Maiko if they were offering, right?) 

Nodding in acknowledgment, Madara reached out to pick up his tea, “Of course I will gladly accept such a gift, but please, join me in drinking, there’s certainly enough tea for both of us.” And there was, the older Maiko had obviously prepared enough for two before sending the younger over, something Madara would have to remember to thank her for before leaving. 

Ruby eyes blinked at him, the colour stark against pale skin and snowy lashes, before dropping back down to the table. “If that is what you wish, then this one would be happy to provide company.” His Maiko picked up the second cup, cradling it between their hands before they sipped at it, humming slightly as they did so. Madara took note of their enjoyment; obviously jasmine was a favourite of theirs. 

(He wondered if it was just tea, or if jasmine was a favourite across other things as well. Some well made incense or maybe something sweet like mochi?)

(Madara definitely needed to thank the older Maiko; she’d picked the tea after all, and obviously she knew it was one favoured by the younger Maiko.) 

They made idle conversation as the night went on, Madara learning various things about the other as they drank. His Maiko had siblings outside of the teahouse; both older than them, though one was technically a cousin. His Maiko enjoyed learning new things; they had an extensive book collection that they added to every time they had the chance, about any topic that captured their fancy. Madara revealed his love of spicy things, which coaxed the admittance of fish and sweet things being his Maiko’s favourite flavours. 

(He’d managed to capture a few seconds with his Sharingan, while his Maiko was enjoying their tea; eyes half shut and a small smile on their face. It wasn’t exactly a smart thing to do but, well. Having a lovely memory like this that he could recall perfectly whenever he wanted was a very tempting thing.)

Eventually, once the tea was finished and the lanterns had started to burn out, Madara bid his goodbyes to his Maiko, offering some extra coins to the elder as he slipped outside. Both for her help; he could admit that he likely wouldn’t have ask for his Maiko to serve him if she hadn’t nudged things along, and also for taking up the rest of his Maiko’s night; they wouldn’t have earned as much as they could have by staying with him, so offering the difference was the least he could do. 

He’d try and come back, he decided, after his next mission. Maybe bring some sweets with him as a gift? Or look through some of the merchant stalls for interesting books? He doubted his Maiko had as many options to browse through as Madara did - his missions took him through the various neighbouring countries afterall. He was sure he could find something interesting in Lightning or Wind Country. 

(He couldn’t have known that he’d never get the chance. He’d taken up the mantle of Clan Head earlier than he’d thought he would; devastating the free time he had away from the Clan and their territories. By the time he’d made it back, his Maiko was gone.)

Madara sat stiff-backed at the table, face hard and serious as he watched the Senju opposite him. He could feel Izuna fidget slightly at his side, his own rival sat opposing him as well. Peace talks were going…steady. There were still arguments about specifics; back and forths that neither side wanted to concede. But that was good. The Clan would have been much more suspicious if there weren’t some clashing with the Senju over things. He would have been a lot more suspicious. 

Even so, tensions were higher at this meeting than others. It was the first meeting with both the Clan Heads and their Heirs; meaning it was the first meeting the Uchiha had with the White Demon attending, Senju Tobirama. 

Picking up his cup, Madara went to take the customary drink to open the meeting, watching Izuna, and both Senju, do the same. The tea was jasmine, a change from the green tea Hashirama had picked last time it was his turn to host. Ready to move things along, Madara started to lower his cup when he heard it; a small, pleased humming from across the table. Snapping his head up, he locked eyes on Tobirama, watching him sip his tea with an expression he knew. He remembered that expression, even after 10 years his Sharingan could recall it with perfect clarity. The hair, the eyes. The pale skin and the way he drank his tea. He couldn’t believe it!

“SENJU TOBIRAMA! YOU’RE MY MAIKO?” 

@madatobiweek

#tobirama senju #uchiha madara #tobirama x madara #naruto #day 2 teahouse/teacher #madatobiweek2023 #madatobi #it's a little late but it's still good yeah #still good #my writing #also found on ao3! #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3

[mariacallous]

On a recent evening, Micaela Maldano unfurled a blanket in a public park in El Jagüel, a poor suburb of Buenos Aires. On it, the 28-year-old arranged used clothes, a mate tea gourd, and a backpack—secondhand household goods she hoped to trade directly for food. “It’s getting harder and harder to eat,” Maldano said. “There are tons of people who are hungry.” She called the taste of meat, an Argentine staple, a “distant memory.”

Maldano is not alone. More Argentines are resorting to desperate measures such as bartering to put food on their tables as the country weathers an economic crisis. Financial tumult has long been part of life in Argentina, which ended 2023 with an annual inflation rate of more than 200 percent. But humble households such as Maldano’s have fallen into deeper precarity since far-right libertarian President Javier Milei was inaugurated last December. Maldano rents an apartment with her boyfriend, and the two rely mostly on his salary and informal trades to get by.

Days after taking office, Milei devalued the Argentine peso by more than 50 percent, and already sky-high inflation rates ascended even further. Since then, the cost of gas in Argentina has roughly doubled. Food prices have risen by roughly 50 percent, according to official government data. Health care costs have increased at a similar clip. Around the two-month mark of Milei’s presidency, Argentina’s annual inflation rate topped 250 percent, surpassing that of Venezuela to become the highest in Latin America.

As the price hikes intensified, Milei slashed subsidies for services ranging from transportation to utilities, honoring his campaign pledge to take a metaphorical “chainsaw” to public spending. The move put even more pressure on Argentines’ pocketbooks.

On the campaign trail, Milei—a political outsider—suggested abolishing Argentina’s central bank and dollarizing its economy, outlandish proposals that raised eyebrows among observers. But in office, his strategy has so far been more conventional: a fiscal adjustment plan designed to reverse longstanding government deficits through budget cuts and tax hikes. The president has described his austerity package, a significant departure from the Argentine tradition of reckless government spending, as “shock therapy.”

“It’s a fairly traditional approach to stabilization,” said Benjamin Gedan, the director of the Latin America Program at the Wilson Center. “That doesn’t mean it’s not dramatic and high stakes. … It’s an act of either political courage or political suicide.”

For everyday citizens, Milei’s austerity has been devastating. Salaries and pensions have not come close to keeping up with inflation. Workers’ purchasing power fell by roughly 14 percent month-over-month at the end of 2023, a contraction not seen in decades. Demand for food at soup kitchens is surging. A study released earlier this month from the Catholic University of Argentina estimates that the country’s poverty rate surpassed 57 percent in January. According to the same group of researchers, 49.5 percent of Argentines lived in poverty in December 2023, when Milei took over. At the end of 2022, 43.1 percent were considered poor.

Sebastián Menescaldi, an economist and the director of the Buenos Aires-based EcoGo consultancy, forecasts that the most painful period of Milei’s economic shock is yet to come. Starting this month, utility price hikes will combine with back-to-school costs to wallop families’ bottom lines. (In Argentina, summer breaks run from Christmas through February.) In March and beyond, “people will feel like they are drowning,” Menescaldi said.

As average Argentines suffer, Milei’s strategy has yielded some positive macroeconomic indicators. The peso devaluation has made imports more expensive, slowing them down—and decreasing the amount of money flowing out of Argentina. As a result, the cash-strapped central bank has started replenishing some of its dwindling dollar reserves. Meanwhile, the government posted an elusive budget surplus in January. And although monthly inflation reached a crushing 20.6 percent that month, it was lower than December’s rate of 25.5 percent.

But experts agree that the fiscal adjustments that made those trends possible could provoke a looming recession; Milei’s spate of spending cuts, they argue, will choke economic growth. The Institute of International Finance, an association of global financial firms, is predicting that the Argentine economy will contract 7.8 percent in the first quarter of this year. The International Monetary Fund, meanwhile, forecasts a 2.8 percent annual contraction.

Milei’s administration hopes that a recession will prove short-lived, but Menescaldi said that is unlikely. The economist is forecasting a “strong” upswing in unemployment and a further rise in the poverty rate. Because a gap persists between the official peso-dollar exchange rate and the black-market rate used by most Argentines, Milei might institute another inflationary currency devaluation in the future. Contributing to Argentina’s uncertainty are the governance challenges facing Milei, whose fledgling libertarian party occupies a minority of seats in Congress and holds no provincial governorships.

So far, the president has not displayed the political savvy needed to navigate that difficult political terrain. When a sweeping bill that would have deregulated swaths of the economy failed to become law due to congressional pushback, Milei inveighed against opposition lawmakers as “traitors” who “voted against the people.” Meanwhile, an attempt to pass labor law reforms via executive order was blocked by the courts. Enacting structural reforms as ambitious as the ones proposed by Milei “takes enormous patience, skill, and willingness to compromise,” Gedan said. “It’s not clear that [Milei] has those.”

Milei has drawn criticism for his apparent lack of focus on the nation’s woes. Recent headlines in Argentina have fixated on an ongoing feud between the president and a leftist pop star, who criticized cuts to public funding for the arts and described Milei’s rise as “dangerous.” And at the end of February, Milei flew to the United States to speak at the 2024 Conservative Political Action Conference alongside other far-right Trumpian acolytes.

Still, recent public opinion surveys show a majority of Argentines continue to support Milei. A poll released at the end of February pegged his approval rating at 52 percent, higher than any other national politician. The president has placed responsibility for households’ mounting economic difficulties on his “inheritance” from Peronist predecessors, and the blame game seems to be working. “He still retains a very robust amount of support,” said Federico Zapata, a political scientist and the director general of the polling firm Escenarios. Menescaldi added, “Argentine society largely agrees that this fiscal adjustment is something that we had to do.”

Time will tell whether the public will remain on board with Milei’s reforms as the standard of living deteriorates. Resistance is already building: It took Argentina’s largest labor union just seven weeks to call for a general strike in opposition to Milei’s government, which took place in January. Rail service workers, health care workers, and government employees walked off the job for additional work stoppages in February. Teachers’ strikes have already disrupted the beginning of the school year.

Some experts worry that anti-Milei mobilization could escalate into full-blown social upheaval if economic conditions fail to turn around. On the street, everyday Argentines have begun making concerned references to the 2001 debt crisis, which led to civil unrest and bloody riots. “I think there are going to be lootings, and just really tough times coming up,” Maldano said.

In Gedan’s view, Argentina is currently “teetering on the edge of a cliff.” If the Milei experiment ends in failure, it is difficult to envision Argentines giving another pro-market candidate a chance. “Most people agree that … everything is either going to collapse or, somehow, [Milei is] going to survive politically long enough to show the benefits of his policies,” Gedan said. “But just sputtering along on the verge of a crisis doesn’t seem to be possible anymore.”

[saintmeghanmarkle]

The trademark application some rambling observations by u/Mickleborough

The trademark application + some rambling observations The Daily Mail helpfully had photos of Mama Knows Best, LLC’s trademark application for American Riviera Orchard: archived / unarchivedThe mark of the beast (before anyone gets too excited - this is a quote from Revelations 13:16-17)https://ift.tt/AbFj5hI may be incomplete as the press refers to Meghan flogging dog leashes, which aren’t listed here.High Road to ChinaOf interest to me are applications in the classes for cutlery; china - including coffee and tea services; and table linen, including napkin rings.These are rather specialised. There are entire companies devoted to designing and manufacturing these products - what’s Meghan’s USP (unique selling point)? Does she mean to slap that ridiculous logo - which looks like someone had vomited hooks, curlicues, and flourishes - on the porcelain? If so, it’d look like a service nicked from a European grand hotel.Serve with Meghan’s Lemon Olive Oil.From the Titanic.Or is Meghan looking to flog more accessible porcelain? If so, that means made-in-China cheap and disposable, thick porcelain as opposed to fine bone china.Meghan and les arts de la tableWhy’s Meghan focusing on table arrangements? Is she known for her candlelight suppers?Gracious livingFrom the teaser video, it’s clear how Meghan would like to live. Large homes, flowers, ball gowns. Throw in tea services and a leisured, gracious lifestyle. This - for me - conjures up a lifestyle of the moneyed Deep South. On this basis - does anyone see the inconsistency?This is how Meghan sees herself: privileged, yet relatable:Doesn’t everyone climb up stepladders in gowns?In short, the potential offerings of ARO are a bit…odd. If I want to buy china, I’d go to the many firms that specialise in porcelain, with their tradition and expertise. Ditto cutlery and table linen. If I want stuff for everyday use, I’d go to Ikea. And these items wouldn’t need to be replaced constantly either. post link: https://ift.tt/G0irvhm author: Mickleborough submitted: March 16, 2024 at 11:47PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

#SaintMeghanMarkle #harry and meghan #meghan markle #prince harry #fucking grifters #Worldwide Privacy Tour #Instagram loving bitch wife #Backgrid #voetsek meghan #walmart wallis #markled #archewell #archewell foundation #megxit #duke and duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #doria ragland #rent a royal #clevr #clevr blends #lemonada media #archetypes with meghan #invictus #invictus games #Sussex #WAAAGH #american riviera orchard #Mickleborough

[nanamikeento]

two for one | levi ackerman; erwin smith | #03

ao3 | read the full work here

Levi Ackerman x reader x Erwin Smith | chapter three

Summary: You’re in the brink of getting evicted. Your income barely pays for the monthly expenses. You’d do anything not to get back to your parents’s house. You’d do anything for a better life, for a little more money. Even if it means having an polygamous arrangement with not one, but two sugar daddies. But what happens if you get in the way of their relationship? Or worse, what happens if you fall in love with not one, but both of them? [Modern AU]

Read tags and notes for more warnings

They say you only have two stress responses: fight or flight. I'd say there are three: fight, flight and freeze. I've only froze in panic twice in my life: once when I was about seven years old and my parents’ kitchen caught on fire. I knew, as a little kid, that I had to move, to run, but I just couldn't. My father rushed to get my mom and I to get out of the house, but my little legs wouldn't move.  

The second time is happening right now.  

Levi's wearing black slacks, much more like those he wore at the date we had, but with a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jacket is folded and rests on his arm. He looks neat, too nice for a place like this. Too... pretty for the Shitty Café. I open my mouth to welcome him again but no sound comes out of it.  

“Are you still open?” He asks when I don't speak.  

“Y-yeah,” I answer, suddenly coming back to my senses, “Welcome.”  

He nods as I walk over behind the counter, leaving the mop in its bucket. Levi walks over it and takes a look at the menu on the TV screen over my head.  

“I'll have the apple cinnamon tea.”  

My eyes snap to his as he looks at me again. I'm surprised he even remembers. “Sure.” I can’t even manage to use my costumer service voice. I swallow as I type his order on the tablet. “Anything else?”  

He pauses, looking at the pastries counter. “What pastry do you recommend?”  

“Well, the cinnamon buns are pretty popular–”  

“No.” He interrupts me with a harsh tone. “What do you recommend?”  

It's my turn to pause for a couple of seconds now. “I– I-I have a bit of a sweet tooth, so I always get the chocolate tart.”  

“Right.” His voice is softer now and he grips his jacket tightly in his hands, “I'll have one. That's all.”  

I nod tapping on the tablet once more. He pays and I give him his receipt and tell him to choose a table.  

“Thank you,” he says and lingers around the counter, as if he wants to say something, but ultimately decides to sit at a table on the corner.  

While I'm preparing his tea, I take deep breaths to ease my nervousness. Maybe it's just a coincidence, maybe he was just around and felt like having apple cinnamon tea and happened to enter the shittiest café downtown.  

Yeah, I'm sure this is what happened.  

My hands shake as I take the tray with Levi's order and make my way to him. In silence, I place the tea cup, the teapot with the brewed tea and his chocolate tart.  

“I'll be right behind the counter if you need me,” I tell him, shaky voice. He nods and open his mouth to say something, but closes it right after.  

When I go back to behind the counter, I sigh discreetly. Yeah, maybe it's just a coincidence.  

So I go back to doing my job, cleaning and finishing up some details to close the café. All while he's there, drinking his tea and eating in silence. When I finish mopping the floor – purposely avoiding his space –, I flip the closed sign on the door and take a deep breath. It's past 9pm so I have to ask him to leave.  

My legs shakily make their way to his table, I exhale and swallow hard. Why is this so hard? It's just a costumer, I've asked people to leave a thousand times. Then why is my heart beating like crazy as I stop by his table and he looks at me with those dark blue, almost gray, eyes?  

“We–” My voice cracks and I have to clear my throat, “We’re about to close and I-I have to ask you to leave.”  

Levi stares at my eyes intensely. “Would you sit with me for a minute?”  

I try not to widen my eyes in surprise and I swear I don’t know what compels me to sit on the chair in front of him. We stay in silence for a moment before he speaks.  

“I want to apologize for being an asshole that night.”  

This time I don’t hide my surprise. My mouth literally falls agape. Holy shit, I was not expecting this.  

“I shouldn’t have laughed at you. I’m sorry.”  

“I-it’s okay,” I say, trying to wave a hand at him, “it was pretty funny now that I think about it.” A lie.  

“Not then. Not for you.”  

My heart skips a beat. Shit.  

Levi takes his cup of tea by the rim and leans his elbow on the table, hunching his back a little, and sighs.  

“You weren’t the first we met through the agency, you know,” he says. His words make my heart squeeze in self-pity for a second, “We went on dates with other people, but they were either too young for us, or were only interested in either just Erwin or just me.”  

Too… young for them?  

“I wanted to give up, I knew it was a stupid idea from the start, but Erwin made me promise to go to just one more date and if it didn’t work, we would cancel our membership in the agency.” He pauses to take a sip from his tea. “Then we met you.” He looks into my eyes. “And you… you’re everything we’ve been looking for.”  

I frown at his words. Are they really that desperate to find a sugar baby? Would Levi just lie to me just to get what they want? I promised myself I wouldn’t let any man trick me again a long time ago and it isn't some good looking, blue eyed, elegant guy who's going to change that.  

“Levi, I–“  

“Just.” He interrupts me and sighs, “I'm not saying this to persuade you, but Erwin was really excited to do this with you.”  

“Were you?”  

My question catches him by surprise, I see it in the way he looks at me with raised brows and slightly widened eyes. I try to remain calm, nothing about this makes sense to me, as much as I try, I can't imagine him being excited to meet me. To get to know me.  

“I knew I wanted you when I saw you for the first time.”  

His statement makes a chill run down my spine and go all the way to my toes. My face warms up and I swallow hard. “You're just saying that to–”  

“No.” Levi interrupts me. “Erwin is good at hiding his emotions, always flashing a smile and laughing at terrible jokes. I'm not. I knew I couldn't even look at you or you’d think I was... some kind of pervert.”  

His eyes are full with something I haven't seen in a man for years: lust. Lust for me . The tension between us grows so thick, it's almost hard to breathe. Did Erwin put him up to this? Is he being serious?  

“I don't understand,” I say, out of breath. “What do you want for me?”  

“Am I not being clear?” There it is. The sharp tone again. The harshness that makes me jump on my seat, my skin crawl with something I'm not familiar with. Is he... hot while doing it? Levi sighs and closes his eyes trying to be patient with me. Then, in a much softer tone, “We want a second chance. I want a second chance.”  

There it is. The honesty in his eyes. The desperation.  

Levi sighs and fishes something inside his jacket pocket. Between his index and middle finger is a business card that he pushes towards me. “Think about it, alright? Give us a call.”  

I take the card from his hand and watch as he stands up, putting his jacket on. It takes me a moment to stand too and walk him to the door, unlocking it and letting him out.  

“Oh, and you were right,” he says before walking away. “The apple cinnamon tea is wonderful.”

Read the full chapter here

#levi ackerman x reader #erwin smith x reader #levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith #erwin smith x reader x levi ackerman #levi ackerman #erwin smith #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #myfics

[theealluringstoryteller]

Welcome to the what if series! Something I’m trying out! I also believe @themonotonysyndrome is also doing! Where we take scenarios that aren’t in the storyline of the series ‘Arranged Marriage Series’ and write ‘What if!’ If you saw my poll and voted then you know that thee scenario ‘What if the servant didn’t give the baroness a choice and took her back to the Empire’ if you still want to vote on something you can scroll through my page and fine the poll on what type of content you want to see in chapter three of my fanfic ‘Against the world around us’

@neptune-cinths

‘What if the servant took the baroness back to the empire’

Omorose’s POV

It’s almost been a week since the rebels took the palace and trapping us in the throne room ever since. Being trapped in a room no matter how big it is with a bunch snooty Imperial nobles and servants who all turned out to be rebels or quickly converted leaving me to be the only one in the room not apart of their rebellion. It left my mind racing on what they were and weren’t willing to do in order to win in their insurrection. Killing? I know Ellis was more than willing after he impaled a soldier with a dagger. No hesitation, no regret, no sympathy in his eyes and that’s the scariest part. He was once a guy that got so flustered when Castin joked and teased him and now from what I can tell he was either the leader or one of the masterminds behind this COUP. Castin did tell me that the rebel group he had to deal with for those three months wanted them dead and I know that King Rhett and Aurelia was dealing with a very serious matter in the Empire’s capital it only leads me to believe that this war is far from over and in the middle of it I’m going to be forced to pick a side when all I want is peace between the two.

“Baroness! I made you some tea to calm your nerves.” Ellis set the cup down with a smile. Ever since he told me how he really felt about everything including my marriage I couldn’t look at him the same. Though he said that he recently joined the revolt which I find it hard to believe.

Deep down I understand why they want to revolt! They preferred the way things were before Rhett became the Emperor of the Coastal Empire. They were comfortable in that way of life not being surrounded by Intacians who treated them lowly. Refusing to service imperials and having to pay half of their wages just to pay Intacian servants and warriors to get them things from the town because they couldn’t go out of fear! None of the Imperial Servants had nothing to do with the war! They had no part of it! Those that did were either put in prison, placed in the Intacian army, or was like Anri getting set up with someone to marry. Their hate and disdain was aimed at the wrong people but they were to blinded by their hatred.

“Baroness…please you need to settle your nerves! The stress isn’t good for you.”

“Ellis, nothing is going to settle my nerves! I’m in the middle of a rebellion, what could be the start of another war!”

“We are finishing the war! Baroness you’re choosing the wrong side.”

“I’m not picking anyone’s side! I can’t!”

Ellis signed placing the cup of tea down.

The frown on his face and the look in his eyes showed disappointment. “Picking no sides could still make you an enemy of the Empire’s and you know what the Empire does to its enemies.”

Death.

The answer to most of the Empire’s problems. Though they never resulted to killing a noble. We were to valuable to kill off so easily especially if their was no heir to our title.

“They wouldn’t kill me over this.” I told him tapping the table eyeing the steam floating away from the cup.

“Perhaps not but do you really want to be thrown in prison until they found someone who they believe can ‘steer’ you into the right direction? Or would you like to have your free will? You were already married off to a rake Baroness! Don’t make your life worse than it already is.”

“Ellis you think you know how the Empire works but you have no clue.”

“When we win you’ll be seen as a traitor!”

“If you win I will still be seen as a high ranking woman of the Empire! Who would the Empire believe? Their beloved Baroness from one of the most respected families or a servant who crosses boundaries and have no respect for their Baroness?” I spat. I studied his face watching as the frown turn into a smirk, the expression making me glare in anger.

“Spoken like a true Imperial.”

Pushing the cup of tea towards me “Drink it! I’ll bring you a snack soon…dinner will be served in a few hours.”

Picking up the cup I sighed into it allowing the steam to wash over my face before blowing it away and taking a sip.

“Commander! Commander!” A soldier rushed into Castin’s tent where him and Rhett were in a heated discussion.

“What is it, soldier?”

“The scout! They sent word that they moved the Baroness!”

Castin felt his heart stop and his blood run cold. “Wh-what?!” His voice cracked at the news.

“They are moving her. The scout believes they might attempt to move her out of the city.” The soldier reiterated.

Castin turned towards Rhett panic in his eyes. Rhett never saw Castin in such a state since he lost his mother. The tired strung out man looked so fragile like thin glass ready to break.

“Castin! Breath!” Rhett reminded placing his heavy hands on the younger man’s shoulders, shaking him slightly trying to get him to take a breath.

“Breath brother, breath!” Rhett stressed.

Castin’s head snapped to the left as a harsh sting settled on his skin. Gasping Castin looked like a fish out of water.

“They- Rhett I have to go!”

“You need to calm down!”

“They are going to take Omorose! I can’t- I can’t let them-”

Castin erratically moved around putting on his armor and grabbing his weapons.

Rhett watched on hoping Castin would tire himself out enough to actually listen to him.

Castin stumbled over himself trying to keep the tears at bay as he thought of the worst things that could possibly happen.

‘If the rebels succeed then what will they do with her? Throw her in prison? Hurt her? They could they could…’ his mind wondered down a dark path eating at his weaken health.

“CASTIN!” Rhett called out following Castin out of the tent

“Not now Rhett!”

“CASTIN!”

Soldiers moved swiftly dunking and dodging, climbing over the gates and making their way into the palace quietly, as the rebels moved quickly moving an unconscious Omorose towards the secret tunnel to sneak her out.

“They are taking the Baroness out of here tonight so be ready in case we have to be on defense.” Castin over hears a rebel soldier order another.

“I thought the Baroness refused to leave?”

“There’s been a change of plans. She doesn’t have a choice now.”

“Commander what do you want us to do?”

Castin thought for a moment for the best outcome

“We need to figure out where exactly they are sneaking Omorose out and before captain Dolian gives Rhett the all clear to storm in.”

The small group continued to covertly moved through the palace witnessing Imperial rebels freely walk the palace as if it were a regular day for them.

“Those imperial jackasses!” One of Castin’s soldiers hissed.

“Quite!” Castin hissed.

Two ascendants rounded the corner passing by the small group who took cover.

“Such beauty, tainted by Intacian filth!”

“It’s a good thing they are taking the Baroness out of here now.”

Castin wanted to demand where his wife was but he knew it was stupid blindly going into a fight with ascendants. So he bit his tongue watching them walk away before turning to his group.

“All the exits are being watched! There’s no way they are taking the Baroness out of here without getting caught by troops.”

“I know soldier…but don’t underestimate your enemy, you’ll fail everytime you do.”

Up on a highest tower of the palace Captain Dolian lit a torched alerting Rhett as soon as he could…

Just like Rhett ordered him too.

An order that quickly crumbled Castin’s plan to safely get to his wife. The palace erupted in chaos.

“Intacians are in the palace!” A hysterical cry sounded just as the loud bells did.

“Damn it!” Castin cursed moving from his spot without a second thought to the small group of his soldiers.

Ellis pushed his fellow rebel men towards the entrance. “Go! Now before they catch you-”

“What about you-”

“Don’t worry about me! You guys go now! Make sure she’s delivered to our fort in the Empire.”

The rebel group quickly made their way through the secret tunnels that was long forgotten under the palace. One they worked hard to clear before they started their rebellion in the Intacian capital.

Ellis watched them go before insuring that the entrance was covered.

“You two go to the bell tower and be the look outs! If anyone is rushing out of here ring the bell! You! Go inform Rhett they are taking Omorose out now! Hurry!” Castin ordered leaving the group before the last words left his mouth.

Castin moved through the palace searching for any signs of where they could possibly sneak Omorose out.

Slithering around Ellis sought out Castin knowing that as the commander and Omorose’s husband he had to be in the palace.

Ellis could hear the commander babbling to himself like a scared child who lost their mommy in the market. “How pathetic” he mumbled rolling his eyes.

A sharp blade cut through Ellis’s flesh as he bit his bottom lip to hush himself as he self inflicted a wound. Tossing the weapons aside he began to stumble around pretending to be more injured than he is.

“LORD CAS- I MEAN COMMANDER! Castin! I tried to protect her-”

“Where is she!” Castin demanded catching a dramatic Ellis in his arms

“I over heard them say that they are taking the southwest road…”

“Southwest?”

“Yes! They know that by now Intacian soldiers will be on the east roads since that is the road that heads towards the coastal Empire!”

“There’s troops in all roads!”

“Thank the goddess! They won’t make it far with here then-”

“Where did they leave out? Which door?”

“I believe there was a secret entrance they were going on about in the kings study!”

Believing him Castin left him rushing off in that direction.

Ellis smirked wickedly watching as Castin went into the wrong direction his wife was in.

“Commander of the army but yet doesn’t know when his enemy is looking him in the eye!” He snickered to himself making his way to the secret tunnel.

The rebel group managed to get miles away from the palace thanks to the miles long tunnel that ran under the palace grounds and opened into the thick forest.

By the time Castin realized he was lied to Ellis was gone and the rebels they caught refused to talk. Even after Castin beat the most confident one.

“How did they manage to get out?!” He demanded going in for another punch. The rebels face was gnarly. Bloody, bruised and starting to swell.

“Castin! Stop!” Rhett ordered harshly holding Castin back.

“Commander, king Rhett, we found a tunnel under the palace! We think the rebels left through there!”

“They took her through the tunnels. Didn’t they?” Castin asked but, the servant refused to answer smirking up at Castin instead. Blood tricking down his slightly parted lips.

“The commander is speaking to you. It’s best if you answered him.” Captain Dolian chimed in loving the facts that an imperial kneeled in front of him bloody and ugly.

“Where are they taking her? Where are they taking my wife?”

“You think I would tell you, Dross?” The rebel spat groaning in pain.

“What did you just call hi-”

“I’m far from wanting to continue playing this game of interrogation where you try to continue to play the tough guy until I finally kill you! Tell me where…where are they taking my wife?”

The rebel stayed quiet glaring up at Castin.

Castin felt the last ounce of patience leave his body.

“Alright…fine.”

Castin lunges out of Rhett’s grasps towards the rebel knocking the beaten man on to his back, Castin’s hands wrapping his large hands around the man’s throat.

“Stop! They couldn’t have gotten away! We can go after them!”Rhett pried Castin off before he could finish the man off.

“I ca-I can’t lose her, Rhett!”

Everyone watched as the famous Intacian warrior swayed weakly the lack of sleep and hunger finally getting to him. He fell defeated by his lack of self care into the ground.

“Someone get a medic! NOW!”

The forest was dark and cold by the time Omorose awoken in the make shift camp. Her head still dizzy from the drugged tea she drunk. Her blurred eyes looked around panicked.

“You’re finally wake. I made the tea stronger than I was supposed too.”

“What did you do?” Cried Omorose rubbing her eyes trying to regain her sight.

“I respectfully made the choice for you.”

“Respectfully? You drugged me!” Omorose hissed pissed off that she was forcefully taken out of the palace.

“For your own good! What would it look like to the rest of the Empire if you stayed willingly with the enemy Baroness! You already was forced to to marry one.”

“I wasn’t forced.”

“The Empire doesn’t see it that way!”

Castin woke up, head pounding from dehydration and hunger in his room in the palace. He sat up despite feeling so shitty. He groaned holding his head and cursing.

“Good you’re awake! Eat up before you kill yourself.” Rhett said motioning to the tray of food and water on the bedside table.

“Rhett I have to go-”

“You need to eat!” Rhett stressed pushing Castin back on the bed when Castin tried getting up to quickly.

“Did you at least send a troop after the rebels?”

Rhett sighed knowing that he had to break the news and potentially send Castin into another panic attack.

“I ordered them not to go after them. Securing our borders is way more important right now! We have to stop any other potential rebellion”

The room was silent as Castin sat there processing Rhett’s words.

“Are you seri- Rhett she is the most important person in my life. The most important thing to me…if you’re refusing to help I’ll go alone… brother.” Castin spat out the last word as if it was a vile substance in his mouth. Rhett pressured him to make an effort to get to know Omorose, he did and he fell in love, told him to drop the ‘manly Intacian act’ he did and omorose grew to love him back and now… now it felt like Rhett was telling him to do the impossible.

Omorose stared at the large fortress walls bitterly watching it grow larger as she was forcefully lead towards it. The old imperial flag greeted her as the gates opened.

“You will remain here until it’s safe to have you back in your regular imperial scene.”

“Do you honestly think that Castin won’t come after me?”

Ellis nodded before saying “Do you think We won’t kill him without Hesitation?”

Part 2 coming soon😈

It’s currently 1:56 am where I’m posting this. My mind won’t allow me to type more and if you’re reading this before I post part two I like leaving people in suspense sometimes🙃

[itstravelersnoteb00k]

Where To Eat in Tagaytay: 

Discover 5 Restaurants With a Breathtaking View of Taal

By: Althea I. Austria

Marcia Adams

Marcia Adams is a garden restaurant located on the boundary of Tagaytay and Alfonso, specializes in home-cooked Mediterranean cuisine. The restaurant opened in 2010. Its first dining area was inspired with Italian farmhouses in Tuscany and received the nickname Marcia Adams Tuscany. Since then, additional dining areas have been added following the Mediterranean theme with the Sunset Lounge (Spanish influence), Greek Terrace and its extension, and the Provençale Pavilion.

Marcia Adams offers a very unique Mediterranean theme that will bring us all with the experience of a Spanish influence too with their cuisine that specializes home-cooked. The restaurant is a reflection of Marcia Adams' passion for gardens, food and architecture and Neil Adams' experience in the Mediterranean and its cuisine. Everything from the colorful seats and cushions, flower arrangement architectural details and ornaments to the variety of dishes were carefully selected to create a unique experience at Marcia Adams.

2. La Creperie - Twin Lakes Tagaytay

La Creperie has its goal to serve to the consumer their sweet delicacies while enjoying the view of the Taal Volcano in Tagaytay City. Its main objective is to provide some neighborhood place for a hearty breakfast, casual lunch, or dinner, afternoon tea, or a nightcap, of wine and dessert. La Creperie is located at the Twin Lakes Tagaytay, Alfonso, Philippines.

La Creperie is inspired to a French cuisine who's ultimate motive is to dedicate its learning in French cuisine into serving a different types of delicacies that will nourished to consumer a wonder experience by bringing the French cuisine into their tables.

This is not just a creperie, but the manifestation of years living and loving all things French, of travelling the world (and being inspired by it!), fond memories of our youth, and of childhood friendships meant to last forever.

3. The Teahouse at Qi Wellness

Teahouse is open and offering a to a guests who wants to experience a Chinese quality cuisine and inspired by centuries-old architecture, cuisine, and healing practices of China, and combined with modern design, culinary techniques, and medical advances, Qiwellness Living reflects the sublime synergy of the old and the new, and presents a distinctive ambient, dining, and spa experience. Experiences are very personal. At Qiwellness Living, you create your own sensorial journey that begins the moment you arrive - - welcomed by the sound of a chau gong, your arrival is announced. 

 

The Teahouse at Qi Wellness has a different types of services offering for their guests, first one is the teahouse, in here they are offering their cuisine while in the bathhouse, they are offering wellness type of services where guests can relax in their stay. 

4. Balay Dako

Balay Dako is one of the proudest restaurant in the Philippines who serves our own delicacies, this restaurant is a place a family and friends can gather to enjoy some good company and with good food. The restaurant not just serving a food but they are serving a food that will inspire us to be more resilient to our country and to appreciate it more by tasting our own delicacies.

The food that Balay Dako is serving is a type of food that will define the history of our country by the struggle and acceptance, and upheaval and adaptation of our fellowmen.

5. Tsokolateria Artisanal Café

Tsokolateria is one of the places in Tagaytay that are often jam-packed. The limited parking right in front of The Boutique Bed & Breakfast in Tagaytay always seems to be occupied by patrons wanting to enjoy the restaurant’s relaxing ambiance, view of Taal, and delicious food—everything on the Tsokolateria menu is either made with cacao as the main ingredient or has bits of cacao. Tsokolateria is best known with their different type of pastries and chocolates that is made out of cacao, it is also known with its place that is located near by the Taal volcano and with it you can experience the delicacy with a beautiful view and ambiance.

Foodies and tourists have been trooping to Tsokolateria Tagaytay and Baguio for their creative take using local Tablea chocolate as inspiration for their exciting dishes. Tsokolateria is best known for its native Tablea House Blend hot chocolate which is hand made the old fashioned way. These are served in a traditional batirol which is whisked to bring out the natural flavors of the tsokolate.

#TagaytayCity #LoveThePhilippines #ItsMoreFunInThePhilippines #ITSTravelersNotebook

[secretpeachtea]

Cat-egory: Love (Kuroo x Reader)

Summary: In which you enjoy working at a cat café and Kuroo enjoys your company.

Genre: fluff, slice of life, timeskip (but no heavy spoilers!)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: a quick haikyuu oneshot that had me rolling on floor :D i decided to just post it on both tumblr and ao3 since it’s not too long, so read on whatever platform you please :)))

read on ao3

You’re quite proud of the quaint little cat café you opened up a few months back near the outskirts of Tokyo. All of the customers love the arrangements of pastries and cookies complementing the many types of coffees and teas that you sell. To top it off, there are six different cats roaming around the shop to keep anyone and everyone company during their stay.

It’s near the end of the work day, only an hour left before closing, and you’ve just handed off the last muffin available to a kind elderly woman. You sweetly smile at her and let out a huff of breath once she leaves. Normally, you work with one other coworker, but they had called out for about a month or so last week due to a family emergency. You were pretty confident that you would be able to take care of everything on your own since your café was pretty small with a limited menu, but it’s still been a pretty rough couple days.

Just as you’re contemplating on sitting down for a quick break, the bell above the door rings signaling that a customer has entered. With your best customer service smile plastered on your face, you turn towards the approaching individual.

“Welcome to Cat-alyst!”

A tall, attractive man confidently walks up to the counter dressed in a sleek, grey suit that catches the attention of a few customers from their tables. Despite the professional outfit and posture, what probably stands out the most is his gravity-defying spiky, black hair that could pass as bed head. The dichotomy is actually quite charming in your opinion.

It takes everything in you to avoid ogling at the sharpness of the man’s jawline or the broad shoulders fitted perfectly into his jacket. “What would you like to order today?”

“I’ll take a black coffee and a danish pastry with custard filling.”

He pays with his card and you hand him his pastry. “Name for your order?”

“Oh, it’s K-”

Before the man could finish, he suddenly freezes in place and quickly looks down near his feet. It seems he was startled by one of the cats rubbing up against his leg.

You laugh and lean against the counter to look down on the black Bombay cat that has yet to move away from your customer. “Kuro! What are you doing all the way over here?”

The man’s head snaps up in your direction with wide eyes.

“Sorry about that. He’s not usually this affectionate with newcomers,” you comment as you turn your attention back to the customer. “What did you say your name was?”

The black haired male strangely hesitates for a moment before sporting a suspicious smirk. “Tetsurou.”

“Alrighty, Tetsurou. I’ll let you know when your drink is ready.”

You think you see a small tinge of pink on his cheeks, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. Must’ve been your eyes playing tricks on you again. It’s been a long day.

He walks to the side and the cat follows him. The feline takes this chance to quickly climb the male’s long figure all the way onto his shoulders and simply drapes around his neck comfortably. You’re too busy with the order to notice him subtly sneezing into his arm a few seconds later.

You cap off the black coffee and smile as you hold out the drink. “Tetsurou!”

He pockets his phone and scratches your cat’s ears leisurely as he takes his coffee with his free hand.

“Why don’t you take Kuro with you while you sit? He’s always been my favorite too.” You reach up to gently pet the cat and he purrs at the attention. “Kuro’s such a good boy.”

This time, you definitely catch the man’s cheeks blossoming in a brilliant shade of red and he refuses to make eye contact with you.

“R-right. I’ll just, um, take him with me. Right now.”

You’re not sure what made him so flustered, so you just shrug your shoulders and get back to work as he walks away to one of the nearby tables without another word.

The next half hour goes by slowly as fewer and fewer customers stop by for the day. The man you know as Tetsurou sneaks a few glances in your direction when he thinks you’re not looking and you try not to act like you notice. It’s a bit difficult to do that though when his glances are accompanied by slightly watery eyes and not-so-subtle sniffles. You’ve seen more than a handful of people having the same reaction when they visit your café for more than a couple minutes.

Is he…allergic?

You’re wiping off one of the tables nearby when you see him stand up and throw away his empty cup. You cringe a bit when his voice comes out a bit nasally as he speaks to the black cat that’s still lounging next to him. “Sorry, little guy. I have to go now.”

Putting your cleaning rag to the side, you dig into your apron pocket and pull out a packet of tissues that you keep with you for emergencies. “Here, take one. Are you alright? You don’t seem to be having the best time of your life coming to a cat café with allergies.”

“No worries. I’m just fine and dandy,” he replies before sniffling once more for emphasis. He still takes a tissue gratefully and your hands briefly brush against each other. His hand is significantly larger than yours and there’s a warmth to them that almost makes you want to never let go. But alas.

Before you could pull back, he quickly grabs something from his back pocket and places it onto your palm. Based on the size and shape of the object, you don’t even have to look down to realize that he had just handed you his business card. His sharp eyes squint at something on your uniform before grinning. “I like your naming sense. See you around, (L/N).”

He turns to leave while you’re still dumbstruck by his sudden words and blinding smile. The chime of the bells above the door snap you out of your trance and the last thing you see is his back beyond the glass. You finally take the time to look down at the business card and read the text.

“Oh.”

His name is Kuroo.

It hasn’t even been 24 hours since you met human Kuroo, so you’re surprised to see him back at the café so soon. He walks in his all-suited glory once again an hour before closing, eyes searching for you expectedly.

You give him a smile that’s a bit more genuine than the one from yesterday as he walks towards the counter. “You’re back.”

“Indeed, I am. I’ll have a black coffee and a chocolate croissant today,” Kuroo responds.

“I got you.”

Similarly to yesterday, your cat Kuro runs up to the tall male and doesn’t hesitate to greet him with head rubs.

“It seems like Kuro…um…that might be a bit confusing.” You twirl a piece of your hair as you sweatdrop at the predicament.

The businessman chuckles. “Tetsurou is just fine.”

His words catch you a bit off guard, especially now that you know his full name, but you mentally tell yourself to calm down. You’re not some lovesick teenager that gets overly flustered by using someone’s first name. You’re both fully grown adults. “Then, (Y/N) is fine by me too.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

…

Shit.

“I’ll go get your coffee for you now.” Your words are mumbled as you quickly grab his desired pastry from the display and pass it to him, avoiding any eye contact. “Enjoy the croissant!”

Kuroo doesn’t utter another word and simply pets the Bombay cat and intentionally avoids making contact with his face. The feline tries to climb his human counterpart just like yesterday but is stopped by a persistent hand each time.

When you return to the counter with Kuroo’s coffee, you sigh at his failed attempt to stop a sneeze after you hand him the drink. “If you’re struggling so much, wouldn’t it make more sense to go to a different café? I’m sure black coffee isn’t that hard to come around.”

Kuroo brings a hand up to rub at his neck sheepishly. “I just…really like cats.”

His wistful tone makes you pause for a moment. There must be more to his stubbornness than you know, but hey, that’s none of your business. All you really need to do is make sure all of your customers are happy and satisfied. Although, a little teasing wouldn’t hurt.

“Are you sure you’re not allergic?”

“I’m paw-sitive.”

Cue your eye roll. Alright, that’s the end of that conversation.

You look at him for a moment and Kuroo meets your gaze curiously. “I can take Kuro off your hands for now while you get yourself a seat. Do you mind waiting for a bit? I’ll be right back.”

The man looks like he wants to ask you something but stops himself and simply nods his head. You quickly take your black cat to the back room and gently pick up one of the cats that have been resting on the cat tower. Kuroo raises an eyebrow as you walk towards him with a brown cat that he hasn’t met yet.

“This little friend is Chestnut. She’s a Burmese cat and they’re known for being hypoallergenic,” you explain as you place Chestnut into Kuroo’s arms.  “You can hang out together for as long as you’d like and you shouldn’t have any issues.”

Kuroo looks at you with stars in his eyes. “Thanks. I really appreciate it, (Y/N).”

“Anytime, Tetsurou.” You give him a warm smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Kuroo stays in the café until closing and he’s significantly less red-eyed and sniffly than yesterday when he finally stands to leave. He’s the last customer inside, so you’re a little less embarrassed to walk up to him and tell him what’s been sitting on your mind since yesterday. “I can text you a list of antihistamines that you can take the next time you come by. You’ll be able to pet Kuro and some of the other cats if you’d like?”

Kuroo smirks. “Is this your way of asking for my number, (Y/N)?”

“You already gave me your number, genius.” You roll your eyes and fish out his business card that you’ve conveniently kept in your apron since the day before.

The man’s ears flush red at your words and scratches his cheek awkwardly. “Right. Then, I guess I’ll be waiting for your text.”

Your heart flutters at the prospect of him looking forward to a message from you, even if your original intention was just to send him medication recommendations. Jeez, that sounds lame.

But, with the way he warmly winks at you before leaving gives you a little hope for something more.

For the rest of that week, Kuroo visits all of the days you’re open and you can tell he’s been taking the antihistamines you told him about because of how well he’s interacting with all the cats. He’s pretty adamant about stopping by your shop at the same time every day too and you assume he stops by after work.

It’s now the middle of the third week since his first visit and Kuroo hasn’t shown up for a few days. You’re a bit worried at his sudden absence, but something stops you from texting him to see how he is. You’re still not really sure where your relationship lies and you’ve never met up outside of the café.

You’re just about to start putting up the chairs when the bell above the door rings behind you. Without turning around, you muster up an irritated greeting, “Welcome to Cat-alyst! We literally close in like 5 minutes.”

You hear a familiar burst of laughter come from the customer that just entered and it causes you to snap your attention towards the door. Sure enough, Kuroo is standing by the door in his suit, but something seems a bit different. You’ve become so used to his neat outer appearance that it catches you off guard when you notice his disheveled form. His jacket unevenly sits over a coffee-stained button down and his slacks are slightly wrinkled. His bed head seems even more chaotic than usual, so he’s definitely had a long day, if not week.

“Yeah, you’re right. My bad. I can stop by next time,” Kuroo responds apologetically.

He’s just about to turn around when your voice cuts him off. “W-wait! Um…it’s okay. I can get you something to drink and let you hang out for a bit. You look like you might need it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to work overtime just for me. I’d be staying past closing.”

You wave off his concern. “I don’t mind. Let me just finish taking care of some chores and we can just chill? I’ll even grab myself a drink too.”

Kuroo gives you a hopeful smile. “Sure.”

As you flip the open sign around and make your drinks, Kuroo walks over to an empty table. You get slightly distracted when he takes off his suit jacket and places it on the back of the chair before sitting down and crossing his legs. He pulls up his sleeves and cuffs them near his elbows. His fit, yet slim body almost makes you swoon and the veins running along his forearms have never looked more appealing on anyone else.

When Kuroo suddenly looks up, you let out a small noise of embarrassment for getting caught staring and quickly get back to focusing on the drinks. If you had looked up one more time, you would’ve noticed his smirk accompanied by reddened cheeks.

With two warm mugs in your hands, you head over to Kuroo who’s now petting both Yuki, the white Ragdoll, and Shark, the grey Russian Blue. When you place his mug on the table, he thanks you.

You sit across from him. “Long day?”

“It was shit,” Kuroo replies. He takes the mug into his hands and stares down into the liquid that most definitely does not look like his usual coffee.

You look away nervously. “It’s a decaf green tea. You didn’t specify what you wanted and I thought it might be good to go without so much caffeine for the night.”

He takes a sip of the tea and hums with content. “It’s good. I probably should lay off the caffeine a bit, especially after work.”

The two of you take a moment to relax a bit in the comfortable silence as you enjoy your respective teas while the cats lay across the floor. Despite the tranquil atmosphere, you have a  strong desire to converse more with Kuroo and listen to his witty, yet kind words. “So tell me, what’s got you so exhausted this fine evening? Spill the tea if you will.”

Kuroo chuckles at your choice of words and you think you like that sound a lot. “Just an asshole coworker that’s lacking in docosahexaenoic acid.”

“Says the guy with a cat allergy that decided to frequent a cat café.”

“Shh. I thought we were past that.” Kuroo feigns offense before shifting his expression to one that was significantly softer. “Plus, I’m not just here for the cats.”

“Oh?” Your cheeks flush at the insinuation. “Care to explain?”

“Well, I have a day off tomorrow and I know you’re closed on Thursdays, so maybe I could tell you more if you let me take you out for lunch?” He runs a hand through his hair with confidence, but the slight twitch in his eyebrow gives away his nervousness.

You already know what your answer is going to be, but you purposefully place a hand under your chin as if you were still contemplating on a decision. You hold back a laugh when you see Kuroo shift in his seat with anticipation.

“I’d love to.” You place your hands back on your mug to distract your attention from the warmth on your cheeks to the warmth in your fingers instead.

Kuroo’s smile widens at your words. “Great! There’s actually a nice onigiri place pretty close by. An old friend of mine is the owner and I think you’ll like the food.”

“Can we meet here and walk there together? I’d like to check up on the cats before we head out,” you ask.

“Fine by me.”

You smile.

“Then, it’s a date.”

You head over to the café about half an hour before your lunch date and step into the back room where all the cats rest during off hours. Chestnut and Yuki, who are already awake and roaming, come to greet you at the door. Shark and Kuro are playing with some toys, while your orange Persian cat, Carrot (aka Bastard), is still snoozing away in his bed. The only young kitten of your café, a Siamese cat named Almond, is nowhere to be seen, and you become a bit worried since he’s usually the first to greet you.

A muffled sneeze from one of the cat towers catches your attention and you look into one of the enclosed compartments. Sure enough, you see Almond laying on his side and he looks up at you lethargically. You bring a hand inside and carefully take him out. Now that you can see him in better lighting, you notice his inflamed eyelids and the discharge around his eyes. The poor baby looked sick.

Without another moment to lose, you quickly grab a small cat carrier and a few blankets before placing Almond inside and locking it up. You rapidly check up on the other cats to make sure they look healthy too. Afterwards, you call a taxi to come pick you up as you walk outside the café and lock the doors.

After you get in the taxi and give the address for the nearest vet, you remember that you were supposed to meet up with Kuroo soon. You curse under your breath at the situation and pull up his number on your phone.

The call rings once before he picks up. “Hey, I’m about 10 minutes away from the café. What’s up?”

“Hey, Tetsurou. I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cancel lunch. Almond got sick and I’m heading over to the vet right now. I know I might be overreacting a little, but he’s still so young, so I don’t want to risk it.”

“Oh, shit. No problem at all, (Y/N). Let me know if there’s anything you need and keep me updated if you can. I want to know if the little guy is okay.”

“Will do. Thanks, Tetsurou.” You hang up the phone just as the taxi pulls up to your destination. You pay the driver and quickly go through the process of admitting your kitten. Thankfully, today’s been a slow day, so the front desk is able to get the vet to check up right away without an appointment.

Once the vet gets a look at Almond, you’re finally able to let out a sigh of relief when they tell you that the kitten is experiencing a pretty common upper respiratory infection that can be treated at home. The vet sends you off with a couple medications and instructions that don’t seem too difficult to follow. It hasn't even been an hour since you left the café, but you’re already set to leave with Almond.

You call another taxi and make your way back to the café with a peaceful, sleeping kitten next to you but not before shooting a quick text to Kuroo about any updates on the situation. He doesn’t respond right away, so you just pocket your phone and look out the window.

During the drive, you can’t help but feel upset at the missed opportunity to spend time with the man that’s caught your interest, but you don’t feel comfortable leaving Almond alone, especially since you have to keep him isolated from the rest of the cats.

As the car approaches the café, your eyebrows raise in surprise when you see a tall figure standing in front of the entrance. There’s no mistaking that the lone person is the one and only Kuroo Tetsurou waiting for you and wearing casual clothes for the first time since you’ve met him. You’re so used to his formal attire that his casual wear makes you fall for his looks all over again. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with dark jeans and black running shoes. His hair is not as styled but still looks put together, and he just looks…ready for a date.

When you exit the taxi, you notice that he’s holding a plastic bag that has an unfamiliar logo with the name Onigiri Miya written on the bottom. The two of you make eye contact and stand in front of each other for a few moments.

Kuroo’s the first one to break the silence, “I know you said you didn’t want to leave the cats unattended and you probably haven’t eaten yet, so I thought I’d bring the lunch to you. If you’re still down?”

Your heart swells at the gesture and you find yourself unconsciously nodding your head with a smile. “Let me just take care of some things first and then we can dig in.”

Kuroo follows you inside the building and sets the food down as you let the other cats out in order to clean up any potentially contaminated items.

“Need any help?” Kuroo asks as he watches you run around to finish your tasks as soon as possible.

“No, it’s okay! I’m pretty much finished. You can- ah!” A yelp escapes your lips when one of the cats suddenly runs in front of your legs and you have to maneuver your body to the opposite direction. You were able to avoid stepping on the cat, but it caused you to lose your footing. Fortunately, you’re not falling for long when a strong pair of hands grasp onto your shoulders as your face bumps into a hard surface. You’re disoriented for another few seconds, but the arms around you keep you secure.

Once you catch your bearings, you turn your head towards the feline culprit. “Bastard! I told you not to run around like that.”

You can practically see the orange cat smirking as he gets comfortable in his usual spot on the cat tower.

A voice above you startles you out of your one-sided conversation. “I thought his name was Carrot?”

“That’s what I officially changed his name to when he was first brought here since I couldn’t have kids running around calling for ‘Bastard’. I still call him Bastard, though, since he’s a cheeky one.” You grin as you look up at Kuroo, but your smile quickly disappears once you realize what position you were in.

Kuroo’s arms have yet to leave your side and your chests are close enough to feel your racing heartbeats syncing up. The two of you are lost in each other’s gazes and his eyes occasionally flicker towards your lips. You both unknowingly lean closer until your faces are only a few inches apart. Your eyes flutter closed when you suddenly feel something furry against your mouth that most definitely does not feel like another pair of lips.

When you snap your eyes open, the first thing you notice is Kuroo’s close proximity and wide eyes looking just as confused as you were. When both look down, you see a small black paw slotted between your lips. Apparently, while you both were distracted, your Bombay cat had climbed on top of the man’s shoulders again and decided it would be a great day to be a menace.

With a little bit more awareness, you pull away from Kuroo with bright cheeks and the man’s own cheeks mirror yours. You point at the food sheepishly. “Maybe we should eat?”

“Y-yeah.”

You both sit across from one another and take an onigiri from the pile. You must have been hungrier than you thought because the moment you take a bite, the only thing that floods your mind is the delectable taste of a perfectly seasoned rice ball. “This is amazing.”

“Right? I’m really glad they opened up a shop in Tokyo. I always stopped by Onigiri Miya whenever I visited Miyagi,” Kuroo responds just as content with the taste.

“I’m guessing you bought these from the place we were supposed to have lunch at?”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to miss out, so here we are.”

“We can’t seem to meet up anywhere away from this café, huh,” you comment humorously.

“Not a problem. We’ve got more opportunities to go out together in the future.” Kuroo smirks. “As a matter of fact, I’m free Sunday night, and I know a good ramen place for dinner.”

“I’d like that.” You then point your finger at him teasingly. “You sure you’re not allergic to ramen though?”

Kuroo snorts and pretends to make the gesture to slap your hand away but instead lightly grabs your hand and links your fingers together smoothly. The next hour is spent getting to know each other more and sharing stories of your lives. Throughout the whole time, your hands never stray far from each other.

At some point, you get up to brew some green tea and you both migrate to a carpeted part of the floor to sit closer to the cats. You opt to sit next to Kuroo, shoulder to shoulder, and your hands find his again.

Good food, good cats, and good company. Despite the slight mishap in the morning, you’d say this was a pretty good date.

One year later

Kuroo doesn’t come to the café every day, but he stops by enough that all of your regulars know him by name. The rest of the customers mainly know him as ‘that one tall, handsome man with the ridiculous bed head who’s dating the owner’. He still comes in near the end of work hours, but now that your coworker is back, you have more flexibility in spending time with him.

Today, Kuroo had texted you earlier that his meeting was being extended, so he probably wouldn’t be able to make it to the café. It’s now past closing time and your coworker had already left since you were in charge of locking up for the night. You’re sitting in the back room feeling a bit sad that you couldn’t see Kuroo today, but those feelings were immediately alleviated when feline Kuro jumps onto your lap and rubs his head against your chest in comfort.

Your heart melts at the cuteness and you pet him lovingly. “You’re right, Kuro. Who needs men when I have you?”

The black cat meows as if responding in agreement.

You bring him closer to your chest and nuzzle his face while cooing. “I love you, Kuro.”

The sound of a plastic bag dropping on the ground startles you and the cat on your chest jumps away in fright. Your head quickly turns towards the door and you see your boyfriend standing stock still, a familiar bag from Onigiri Miya sitting at his feet. He’s completely red from the bottom of his neck to the tips of his ears and he’s sporting an endearing expression on his face.

For a moment, you’re confused as to why he was so flustered, but you realize that it’s the first time he’s ever heard you say that special three word phrase. He’s said it to you a few times now, but he has yet to hear it from you directly. Technically, you hadn’t even said it to him directly this time, but…right. His name is Kuroo too.

“I-I meant the cat! My cat that is named Kuro! Black cat Kuro! Not that I wouldn’t say it to you, um…” Your rambling just seems to make the situation more awkward.

Kuroo is the first to recover and he walks over to where you are while holding out a hand for you to take, abruptly silencing you and lifting you to your feet. “No worries. You can say whatever you’d like whenever you’re ready, (Y/N).”

His gaze draws you in and before you know it, your lips meet his in a deep kiss. His hands come up to gently cup your face, while your arms latch onto his sides in a tight grip. He tilts his head more to draw you in even closer and his movements cause you to take a few steps back until your back hits the wall.

The sweet moment almost turns more desperate when something lightly paws at your leg.

You break from the kiss and look down to see all six cats surrounding the two of you and watching your every movement with their curious eyes. Almond is standing the closest and is also the one who interrupted you. You let out a small giggle. It seems you could never catch a break from them.

When you look back up at Kuroo, you see him already staring at you with a soft smile gracing his lips. His eyes are filled with so much adoration and affection that you can’t stop your next words.

“I love you, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo looks surprised for a moment before his expression shifts back to a wide grin.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

A/N: enjoy my product placement for Onigiri Miya. my tidbits series is still wedged deep into the dark crevices of my soul (and if you haven’t read that yet, !!!!!)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #Kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #cat cafe #cafe au #timeskip #haikyuu timeskip #secretpeachtea

[renee-writer]

What If It Were Brian Chapter Twenty -nine

AO3

Murtagh and Fergus enter the ship first. Finding her captain, they confirm the previous arrangements.

 

“Aye, my crew aren’t going to be telling tales. Half of them be running from the bleeding British themselves.”

 

Their cramped legs made it hard to get out of the wagon. Six days hidden in such a cramped space, plays havoc on muscles. Still, it is worth it to be heading to freedom. They work the pins and needles out as Murtagh and Fergus unload the wagon.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to know someone who would buy the wagon and team, would you?” Murtagh asks around to the deck hands assisting them.

 

“Oh eh, me self. I be heading home. Me wife be newly delivered of me son. Wish to see the boy fore he gets to big.”

 

“Congratulations on the bairn.” Murtagh slaps his back. They walk off and make the deal. The bloke is so anxious to get home, it doesn’t take much haggling.  The young deck hand is soon off to meet his son as the Fraser’s enter the ship.

 

Murtagh and Fergus share a bunk room while Jamie, Claire, and Brian do the same. They are small but bigger then the cramped wagon. Here, they are also free to walk about. 

 

Claire is shown her surgery.  The room consists of a small table, a small desk, and a tiny bunk. She has worked with worse.

 

“We are sure glad to have you, ma’am. We haven’t a ship’s captain in a year. The last caught a fever and passed. We buried the poor bloke at sea. “ The first mate tells her.

 

“I am happy to be of service.” She smiles at him. Brian, standing by her side, also grins at him. This whole thing is a huge adventure for him. Being on a ship, traveling across the ocean, it is something that he couldn’t imagine doing when they were still with father. No, he doesn’t wish to think of him.

 

“Hey, little man. Are you going to learn to be a sailor and sail the high seas when you grow up?”

 

“I don’t yet know sir.” He says, “I may suffer from sea sickness like my daddy.”

 

“Such wonderful manners. You may just be to civilized for a sailor.” He bowed to them and slipped out.

 

They set sail a few hours later. Claire prepares a tea for Jamie’s  sea sickness. He is started on it before they set off.

 

To all their relief, Brian has his mama’s  constitution. He can and does, stand at the stern, laughing as the sea winds lift his curls around his face. Murtagh or Fergus remain by his side. Claire is busy with patients.

 

“I ken it be bad, Mistress, but there was none to see to it.” The sailor explains as he shows her his severely infected arm, cut on a mast head a month previous.

 

“Bloody hell.” She says, “This is going to hurt. I must get the inflammation out of it.”

 

He nods stoically. “Do as you must.”

 

He is offered a shot of liquor before she takes her sterile knife and slices across the weeping wound. He lets out a shriek before passing straight out. Her liberal administration of liquor to the now open wound wakes him back up. This time he utters a whimper. The wound is left open, covered with linen strips soaked in garlic and then covered in honey.

 

He is the worst, thank the Lord. Over the first week, she treats her husband’s sea sickness, many cuts and a few rope burns, and a memorable case of constipation. This sends her to talk with the ship’s cook.

 

“This man needs fiber. They all need vegetables and fruit to prevent scurvy.”  Her family gets it. She, unfortunately, doesn’t have enough to share.

 

“Fibrous fish is all I have on board. I do serve fruits and vegetables, in the fish stew, are the vegetables. We have raisins and other dried fruit.”  

 

“That will have to do. Do you have any porridge or oatmeal?”  He looks at her as if she has two heads.

 

“No, for the men will no eat such.”

 

“I have. I will simply have to make some for my patient.”

 

“As you will, Mistress. You will pay hell getting any of these sailors to eat it.”

 

She confronts him. “You are severely backed up. You have two choices. Either eat the porridge or I shall have to clean you out.” She stands, hands on hips, and stares at him. The poor lad, only sixteen on his first sail, turns white.

 

“I shall eat the porridge.”

 

Her own lads keep busy helping the sailors. With time, Jamie’s sea sickness lessens and his color returns. Brian’s spends half the time with his daddy and the other lads and half the time with her. He learns so much, even if he can mainly just watch.

 

“I learned to scrub the deck today, mama! It was something I could help with. They said I was perfect for getting under the rigging where they couldn’t. I am a true sailor now!”

 

“How brilliant, my love.” She smiles at him. He is tucked in a tiny berth each night. It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep, as active as he is throughout the day.

 

Jamie looks at her curiously that night. Three weeks into the voyage and he is feeling more like himself. There is something though, about his wife. A type of weariness beneath her eyes.

 

“Claire, are you alright?”  She sits, brushing her hair out.

 

“Yes. Why?” He gets it then. The candle reflects off her bosom as she turns. With the limited space and the constant presence of their son, they hadn’t been intimate since they left Lallybroch. Still, he sees the changes reflected in her shift covered chest.

 

“You haven’t your cycle, have you?” He is starting to grin. She frowns as she lowers the brush.

 

“Good Lord!” She shakes her head in disbelief. “How could I have not… you, still keeping track.”

 

He comes up and kneels beside her. “No, this time it was the changes to your breasts that I noticed.”

 

She is laughing and crying. “I am pregnant! On a bleeding ship.”

 

“Aye.” He lays his head over where their child lays. “You are.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #what if it were brian #chapter twenty nine #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom