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yuwuta · 15 days

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PEOPLE TOLD ME ABOUT THE FLAMES, I COULDN’T SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

cw some kind of college au/boarding school au? this used to be for rodeo station and now just... exists on its own, friends to lovers, megumi has toji and satoru as father figures so are we surprised that he’s a bully and doesn’t really grow out of that phase… anyway, apologies to muta and miwa, 1.3k words

Nobara makes a poor effort to stifle her laughter as Kokichi stomps up to stand in front of you, hair and clothes drenched in chocolate milk, shoes sloshing with each step, and the bandage on the side of his cheek peeling from the wetness.

When you look up at him, you’re unimpressed, and unsurprised, so you resume annotating your lecture notes as if you weren’t interrupted. If Kokichi wanted to stand in a puddle of dripping milk, then so be it—you should have finished your notes yesterday, and you couldn’t get through your other tasks without catching up first.

“Look, I already said I was sorry. I shouldn’t have kept bothering you for your number when you’d already said no,” Kokichi starts, wiping dripping milk from his chin, “Now, will you please call off your guard dog.”

You don’t reply immediately, focused on finishing the last paragraph of the page, much to Kokichi’s dismay, and Nobara’s amusement. He huffs at your silence, frustrated and humiliated, but there’s nothing for him to say or do until you respond. Maybe that’s something he should have considered when he kept trying to talk to you in class. Still, even now, you’re not ignoring Kokichi to embarrass him or string him along; you just want to finish your godforsaken anthropology homework.

“You seem to be under the impression that I can make Megumi start or stop doing anything,” you sigh, put your highlighter down, and tiredly look up at Kokichi, “But I regret to inform you that you’re wrong.”

Kokichi’s nose scrunches in disbelief, an angered hand coming to wave in front of his face, but his dripping clothes result in splashes to his face—and further laughter from Nobara. He sighs out of frustration, trying to put away his pride, but Nobara’s giggling and your nonchalant attitude are really making it difficult for him to take this in stride.

“Okay, you’re fucking with me—and I deserve it, alright? But, Todo already gave me a fucking lecture, Mai won’t look at me, and Megumi is going to rip and stain every single shirt I own at this point.”

“That sounds like your problem,” Nobara snickers, rolling her eyes when Kokichi gives her a glare.

“I'd love to help, Muta, but this is out of my control,” you loll, capping your marker, “Maybe try apologizing to Megumi instead of dripping chocolate milk over notes and shoes.”

“Eh? The hell am I apologizing to him for?”

“You’re the one who pissed him off—how should I know?” you sigh, sliding your pens and markers into your bag, and closing your folder.

Nobara pipes in to taunt, “You’d better figure it out soon, though. I hear they’re serving spaghetti tomorrow, and that definitely stains.”

You swear you hear Kokichi growl, but it only makes Nobara laugh harder. The two of them together is a bad combination—Kokichi is easily aggravated, and Nobara easily aggravates. You’re certain that if Megumi weren’t already on his ass, Nobara would have stepped in to bully him just for the fun of it.

Still, you’d rather not have to testify on either of their behalf, so you bid Kokichi a goodbye, offering him your best advice about cleaning milk stains out of white shirts, and drag Nobara by the arm before she can make another quick quip to finally make him snap.

She’s still laughing at Kokichi’s expense all the way back to your dorm, “As much as I like seeing Megumi pummel Muta, he’s definitely gonna get written up, at the very least, if he keeps it up. Just tell him you’re not mad about it anymore, and he’ll piss off.”

You stuff your hands into your pockets, “I don’t control megumi. I didn’t tell him to egg Muta’s car, and pour milk all over him. ”

“Like hell you don’t,” Nobara scoffs, “Kokichi was right about one thing—Megumi’s a doberman on a leash and you’re his owner.”

“I didn’t even tell him that Kokichi kept asking for my number. I’m pretty sure Todo told Yuuji, and Yuuji told Megumi.”

“Yeah, that’s almost worse,” Nobara huffs, “He’s just moved to protect you out of undying loyalty—it must be nice to have a knight in shining armor. Does he call you ‘my liege,’ when you’re alone? He might as well bow down and kiss your shoes with the way he worships the ground you walk on.”

You know Nobara is teasing. The rhetoric that you have influence on Megumi isn’t new to you, but it’s always confusing for you to hear. You’ve known Megumi since grade school, and one thing you’re certain of is that he does things of his own conviction, and when he’s decided something, there’s little anybody can do to convince him otherwise. He’s the true definition of steadfast, and sometimes you wonder if his beliefs have inadvertently made him gain masochistic tendencies, because you’ve seen Megumi suffer in pain just to prove a point.

“Megumi’s his own person, and he’s not easily influenced,” you chuckle, “If anything, he’s more of an attack dog—he bites whenever he sees something he doesn’t like.”

“In any case, he’s your dog,” Nobara shrugs. She pauses for a moment, skipping to catch up to you with a scrunch to her face, “I change my mind though, he’s definitely not scary enough to be a doberman. What are the puffy ones—the really small ones that yap a bunch?”

“Pomeranians?”

She lights up—“Yeah, that’s way more fitting! Plus, he’s got spiky hair like those little mutts, a really bratty, spoiled one too. Gojo probably kept him in his Birkin as a kid.”

You giggle as Nobara searches for an image to compare to one of Megumi. She goes as far as to make a collage and send it in your group chat for approval, instantly getting a rave reaction from Yuuji, and predictably, no response from Megumi.

Nobara walks you back halfway to your dorm, leaving you on your own to head to the gym to meet up with Yuuji. When you get back to your room, you’re not surprised to already see Megumi inside, sitting snugly on your worn-in couch with a book in hand. It’s Wednesday, so he only had morning classes, and prefers to spend his afternoon studying in solace, usually taking advantage of your larger, empty room to get his work done. He gives you a small wave, enraptured in his reading, and you know better than to try and disturb him, so you take your place on the opposite side of the couch with the remainder of your notes in hand, finally having the peace and quiet to finish your annotations.

Megumi finishes his chapter before you’re done, but he waits for you, quietly scrolling on his phone so as not to interrupt you. You don’t face him when you speak, keeping your eyes on your notes, and simply stating, “Kokichi apologized.”

You hear him hum. you know he’s looking at you, but you don’t meet his gaze, and do your best to bite back a smile before he asks, “You forgive him?”

You finish your annotations with a final asterisk at the bottom of your page, so you cap the marker, and finally turn to face Megumi. He doesn’t ask a second time, even as you silently observe him, even if your smile is confusing to him.

“I wasn’t ever really upset,” you explain, “It was annoying, but he wasn’t harassing me or anything.”

He hums again, but it’s not agreeing. “Tsumiki is gonna get mad if you get suspended.”

Megumi calls your bluff with his hum this time, and you sigh. Tsumiki won’t get mad, because Megumi would never get suspended, not as long as Gojo is around as headmaster.

Megumi turns his body inward, raising an arm to rest his elbow against the cushion of the couch. He lolls his head to rest against his palm, cheek squished, and almost mischievous glimmer in his eye. In this light, you see Nobara’s argument—with sleep-tousled hair and expectant eyes, Megumi looks an awful lot like a puppy waiting for a command.

It’s cute, until you realize that Megumi is awaiting your command. Is he?—why would he, he’s never been known to listen, and yet, you’re tempted to see if you truly do have him on some proverbial leash, like everyone else seems to believe.

“Megumi,” you call, softly, “He’s learned his lesson, and I’m fine, alright? Leave him alone.”

Megumi blinks slowly. His features soften, only for a moment, before he’s turned away from you to pick up his book again. He doesn’t respond verbally, doesn’t touch on the topic for the rest of the evening that you both spend studying in your room, but the following day, you walk past Kokichi and Miwa heading into their chemistry lab, and notice a distinct lack of milk or food residue on his clothing or in his hair, so there isn’t anything more to be said.

Megumi is waiting outside of your lecture hall after your last class of the day, offering you a carton of strawberry milk—unopened, and un-thrown. You accept it, reaching up to ruffle his hair as a thank you, and you’re surprised when you feel him move into your touch. He dips his head down a bit further, gently knocking it against yours before straightening up with a sly smile. He nods his head, wordlessly, and turns towards your dorm, ready to walk you back.

You follow, dazed, as you stab the straw into your milk. You’re a half-step behind Megumi, head clouded with confusing new daydreams about the boy in front of you, and now you can’t help but to wonder if you’re the one left to follow Megumi’s whim, or if he’s just pulling you by his own leash.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #gojo x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk fake texts #jjk smau

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boundinparchment · 9 months

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Undertow

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine. But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do. Only the finest for their eldest daughter. Besides, you two were friends, after all. Neuvillette/Female Reader; in which the Chief Justice can no longer deny his heart on the day of your wedding. AO3 Story Link

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

At least for you.

As long as you were happy.

Or so Neuvillette told himself. Duty came first, after all. He had a whole nation to keep from setting itself aflame, be it from Focalors’ whims or the people’s fury. In serving everyone, he was, in fact, serving you.

And in turn, you, too, served the people. Few were so generous with their time and their skills, especially those in your social standing. Fewer still went on to study law, as you had; as heir, you needed to understand property laws and taxes and the words that bound your family to its estate and your place in parliament. Neuvillette would never let it be said that you did not know the meaning of long hours and hard work. Amid the vain and the greedy, you were pragmatic, and not without the wit to prove it.

That was what drew him to you. So many in your position used their wit as sharp daggers to stab others during conversation in a clever, charming way. You flipped the conversation back on perpetrators so often that he wondered why you never pursued certification exams.

“For one, it benefits my station far too much,” you said. “My ambitions are to be able to make life sustainable for all I’m meant to govern. Naive, perhaps. But I think those in my rank need to earn their keep, prove they’re worthy of their legacy. We owe it to the people of Fontaine.”

You were certainly not without a vision, even if you were Unblessed. It was better that way. You didn’t deserve the eyes of the island above on you anymore than they already were.

Neuvillete adjusted his cuffs as he glanced down at the book in his hands. A book you’d given him, annotated with your favorite passages and thoughts. He’d stayed up far too late trying to conceptualize anything other than his legal obligations for the ceremony.

The courtroom buzzed with anticipation. Focalors had rolled her eyes when she caught him getting ready but even she had made herself scarce for once after mumbling to just get it over with. Funny. And here he thought she might be present to laugh in his face and call him a fool.

A fool who took an hour to painstakingly braid his hair in a fashion that mimicked an Oceanid’s tail, as you had once shown him.

He stopped officiating weddings a long time ago. There was no time for such things as the Chief Justice of Fontaine.

But your family insisted. As nobles are wont to do.

Only the finest for their eldest daughter.

Besides, you two were friends, after all.

You would have settled for far less; or rather, you would have been happier with his presence in another capacity. He knew as much. His estate for the ceremony and party. A speech at dinner. A dance. Your smile had been so forced throughout the entire exchange about an officiant that Neuvillette was certain you might snap right then and there.

And yet you remained rooted. Dedicated.

If only the finest would do, why did they even consider the dolt standing before him to be eligible?

Hardly remarkable in accomplishments. The family coasted on interest earned through their holdings but were not without the occasional cousin who ended up with a debt record as long as one’s forearm. Neuvillette couldn’t even justify an excuse for a pedigree; bloodlines couldn’t, shouldn’t, be about trying to maintain whatever purity they claimed to hold.

No one could make that judgment.

Celestia might try, at any rate.

And the Chief Justice could hardly see your future husband comforting you should such a thing happen, let alone caring for the people. Neuvillette could only stare when the nobleman’s eyes caught his; your fiance looked away first and Neuvillette smiled briefly to himself. No. There would be no comfort in this relationship, no challenge, no ambition.

This man would snuff your flames with his own self-importance.

Neuvillette should have offered his hand instead when you’d told him. You seemed so resolute, so determined, to carry out your duty. And he was so patient that he might as well be a coward. Time would wait for him, not you. Instead, he’d pulled every string he could to find every shred of information for you, for your parents, approved the match with as much grace as a ruling.

Mulled over every file with a glass of brandy, trying to convince himself things would be fine.

Wouldn’t they?

Nearby, a musician began the song you had chosen to walk in with and the gallery rose in unison, like the sea, to watch.

The only thing you’d had control over was the dress, you’d admitted one night after dinner. Repurposed, you’d mentioned; all lace and fashionable lines, practical but elegant in its shape. He couldn’t pull his eyes away and he tried to remember to breathe as you made your way down the aisle. In all his years, he had seen many things, including the stunning shimmers of the previous Hydro Archon, but all of them paled to you.

Likewise, it seemed you couldn’t look anywhere else but straight ahead, Neuvillette realized: most looked towards their future spouse but your gaze was fixed on Neuvillette himself. His grip on the book tightened and he was thankful for the swell of the music to hide the squeak of leather.

You weren’t making the stabbing knife in his chest any easier.

The words came quicker than he liked as he began the usual spiel. Welcoming guests, reciting the names of the parties involved, and starting off with a brief speech on the strength of a union. He could read the passage from the book backwards if you asked him.

As a judge, he was meant to be the impartial interpreter of the law. There was no place for bias, for emotion.

His eyes would give him away to any discerning onlookers. Neuvillette was no stranger to rumors and gossip columns and no doubt someone could already see the questions he couldn’t keep from surfacing. It would be obvious, he realized. He kept looking at you and not the crowd, not the man with eager eyes who held your hand the same way one held a horse bridle: too tight.

Neuvillette cleared his throat and pushed away the anguish. It had no place here.

As the Chief Justice asked you to repeat after him, to recite the vows all Fontaine citizens gave on their wedding day, something inside him cracked. Couldn’t you see this would lead to nothing but misery? Weren’t you worthy of more? If you must marry for duty, then at least commit yourself to someone equally committed…

Your lips, painted to perfection (unnecessarily so, for you were already beautiful without such coloring), opened but silence followed. Neuvillette swallowed. Your eyes left his long enough to stare at the man holding your hand before you thrust your bouquet at him, gathered your skirt, and dashed back up the aisle.

Behind you, the courtroom ignited with all of the shock and drama as a high profile murder case as you threw the doors open and dashed into the lobby and eventually out of sight.

The only trace you’d been there at all was your veil as it floated to the floor silently, forgotten.

A joyous day.

It should have been, at any rate.

And yet you shouldn’t shake the knot in your stomach and the claw clenching around your heart. Sleep eluded you for the better part of the night and your maids tutted, pressing cold spoons to your eyes before you were allowed to eat. Food tasted no better than dirt over the last few months and all anyone saw was how careful you were watching your figure.

How you wished things were different. The ring on your finger felt heavy, clunky; a ball and chain around your ankle would have been easier to manage.

It hadn’t been so burdensome at first, of course. Things took time. Perhaps, eventually, you might enjoy your betrothed’s company for longer than a few hours. The potential was there.

But was it enough?

Your maids fixed your makeup, did your hair, swatted your hand away when you reached for just one sip of water.

They all gushed about your fiance, how handsome and charming he was, how well conversation seemed to flow. Every single one of them forgot that the conversations were nothing more than surface level discussions that made you want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon.

You’d almost begged Neuvillette to forge something, anything, that would make this arrangement null and void. Every meeting since the engagement had been heavily supervised under the guise of protecting the Chief Justice’s reputation and your honor, whatever that implied.

Expectation had been there for years, lingered like a ghost. Not from you but from everyone else who cast their eyes on your station. One rarely, if ever, captured the Chief Justice’s attention, after all. Your family had hoped, as others had, but you were content to simply converse over dinner, at parties, exchange books and philosophies and see the man’s smile reach his silvery eyes. He spoke of opera and art in a way so few of your contemporaries could. You tried to control the flutter of your heart when he locked eyes with you across the courthouse foyer after parliament adjourned and you swore you saw his eyes glow.

He was engaging, enthralling, and it was easy to see why the nation considered him such a celebrity.

But your friendship was more than the attention, than the allure of the Chief Justice and all that he encompassed. Some might not call his rulings fair but he saw all of the trappings that Fontaine itself was guilty of pressing onto all of its inhabitants. When you came up with ideas for proposals, it was him you went to for proper language and legal references, always attempting to stay within his schedule, of course. More often than not, he would continue to prompt you to think the proposal through, consider scale and the impact and the precedent.

Never once did he give you an opinion, naturally. Just a different perspective.

“You can be dazed tomorrow,” your mother said as she snapped her fingers in your face. “Your flowers just arrived and the photographer is insisting on family shots here, at the house.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you were dressed by deft hands. It had been something of a game with your maid to pass time when you felt like trying your dress on; little had you known how the practice would backfire.

Something tugged at your gut and you fought the urge to vomit at the thought of the hands (the wrong hands) that would undo the buttons.

No, you made your choice, you reminded yourself. The guilt would fade. The love would fade.

You were closer to thirty than you cared to admit. What your family took for a phase they realized would be a dangerous precedent for your siblings.

Everything you did was for the betterment of the people, you would argue.

What good was the betterment of the people when you were neglecting your duty to your family, was often the retort thrown back with as much acid as your grandmother’s strong tea.

Family.

Duty.

Honor.

All of it was bullshit if the common people were unhappy and left to fend off wolves from above and below.

You’d never subscribed to these notions and they were content to let it be until it was inconvenient. Rather than let you advise on financial planning, to grow an endowment that could take care of the yearly costs of the estate, you were to be cattle in exchange for financial and political support.

Or you would be cast aside, disowned and dishonored, your position taken from you as if it were a rug underfoot.

And so, you accepted all of it with a smile.

You endured.

Just as you endured the flash of the kamera, the fussing over your flowers and your veil during the carriage ride to the courthouse.

The press were eager, as they always were, for gossip and fashion and for a glimpse of the Chief Justice presiding over the ceremony. They weren’t here for you, not truly. Why, of all things, had your parents insisted he be the officiant?

Wasn’t it enough that you were giving up parts of your life, parts of your soul, for a person who would never appreciate them?

Your feet already ached from your heels. A wave of dizziness slapped you across the face as you entered the lobby and you pushed through it. Music began, the doors opened, and your body moved of its own accord, just as you had practiced the night before.

Neuvillette had declined the rehearsal dinner. The one time you were glad not to see him. If you had, you wouldn’t be here now, you were certain.

You gave a cursory glance to your fiance but your attention whipped back to Neuvillette almost instantly. He’d done his best but you could see the faded dark circles under his silver eyes. How late had he stayed up, you wondered. And how long had that braid taken him?

He’d let you style it once, and only once, in the privacy of his library. Waterfalls of silken fabric couldn’t compare to the beautiful blue and white locks between your fingers. He’d been attentive when you showed him the technique, pausing his case review to do so, but…

An ache from your feet ran up to your heart and sat, heavy with longing; it hurt to breathe.

The music swelled to a close and your father kissed your cheek before he passed you along to your fiance. He smiled and you tried not to be disgusted at the sweaty hand that held yours. You held your flowers in your other hand tighter, glad that the florist had missed a thorn in trimming your flowers.

Before you could blink, Neuvillette was already speaking.

And although he was addressing everyone as he read the passage you read aloud to him on a particularly gloomy evening, his gaze never left yours. The man witnessed and knew of the cruelest things the nation allowed, worked under Honorable Focalors Herself, and yet the expression on his face (such as it was, for he was known for his unreadable countenance) was as if…

It was gone in all but a moment as he cleared his throat and prompted you to recite your vows.

It was the subtle raise of Neuvillette’s eyebrows, the way his eyes widened just enough for emphasis that did you in.

Doubt. Anguish.

Was this what you wanted?

You turned your head, every intention to get the words across your tongue and past your lips in mind, when your voice simply wouldn’t comply. All you could see was a life shackled, compromise after compromise and always made against your favor. Concessions that eventually wore down to wondering why you ever bothered.

Did you want to throttle yourself, your spirit, your drive, for potential that wasn’t even there? When the man you loved would be forever kept out of reach?

If not this, then what did you want?

The answer was literally staring you in the face.

You shoved your flowers into your betrothed’s hands and pulled away, not caring if your dress carried sweat stains as you gathered the skirts and ran as fast as your legs could carry you out the door. Commotion behind you roared to life as you haphazardly made your way through the lobby, down to the entrance, and then dashed to the side garden to avoid the headline-hungry press.

There were few options to hide, all of them easy enough to locate. Your family would drag you back if they found you. Assuming they weren’t bickering and that the wedding was even still on from your fiance’s point of view.

A single drop of rain plopped on your head, sudden and cold. Followed by another. And then there was no sun left in the sky as rain came down in sheets, heavy and frigid. Thunder rumbled through your entire being. You couldn’t stay here. Over the roar of the rain, you could hear your name. You wouldn’t heed.

You were tired of coming when called, of giving your loyalty and love to those who sought to keep you from your happiness. No better than a hunting dog.

Soaked, your hair and dress now destined for the Abyss, you slid off your heels and made your way towards the one place you might be able to wait out the rain in peace.

Over the chatter of the crowd, the rumble of thunder was unmistakable.

Of course it would rain. It wasn’t like he’d done a terrific job of hiding his own bias.

The speed at which you’d run back up the aisle was a feat, given the shoes you wore. No doubt those wouldn’t do you any good in this weather. You were probably cold, overwhelmed…

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Neuvillette’s hand shot out. He grabbed the nobleman’s arm before he could move, already poised to go after you.

“Leave her be. These things happen. It is best for a neutral party to resolve these matters. Wedding planners, family, or friends are usually equipped for these situations,” the Chief Justice said matter of factly.

Fight back, you absolute–

Your betrothed’s arm relaxed in Neuvillette’s grip and it took everything in the Chief Justice not to summon his power and drown him there and then. If there was one person deserving of being reduced to their primal element…

Neuvillette’s voice cut above the crowd as he called for order, requesting that guests remain where they were and that, no doubt, everything would resume shortly. Your parents were already doing a poor attempt at damage control with your supposed-in-laws. Your siblings were casting looks at the door, half-debating if they should go after you; they weren’t like you, not as headstrong, not as independent, and one look from your matriarchal grandmother sent them further into their seats.

He intervened, diffusing arguments with ease, all the while wondering if you were okay. Your parents wanted to use city resources, send out police. For once, your fiance chimed in that such a thing might scare you and you needed help, not to be dragged back kicking and screaming.

“You should go, sir,” the young nobleman said quietly as the bickering picked up again. “You said it yourself: family or friends, and her family doesn’t seem keen to fight for her.”

The man’s smile was shaky but the Chief Justice appreciated the sentiment. At least he had a brain in there somewhere.

“Be sure to keep them from saying too much to the press. Should any ask, Her Honor is also behaving…in her usual fashion.”

Neuvillette was certain his absence wouldn’t go unnoticed and the fact that the press were still clamoring at the front stairs despite the downpour wouldn’t help matters. He paid them no mind as rain pelted him, drenching his robes and suit jacket underneath. The rain did nothing to affect his vision nor his drive to find you; he was unbothered by the chill but you…you always did love curling up right next to a fire and being bundled in winter.

There was one place you might go, he pondered, that few knew about and fewer had access to. Short of you running through the city in your dress (which would not be like you), you had little options to avoid the press but to stay near the courthouse.

He found you as he expected to, under a pavilion tucked away into a quiet garden on the property, wringing out your skirts and pacing, feet bare against the wet stone. You were never still when your mind was lightyears ahead of you, be it from following trains of thought or when you were attempting to force a filibuster. Your thoughts were likely half-way to Inazuma by now and just as tumultuous as the storms he heard so much about.

His breath caught when you jumped as you caught sight of him, eyes wide and anguish carved into your face. Neuvillette stepped under the cover of the pavilion, his robes and braid dripping unceremoniously and you immediately reached to wring his hair out gently, without so much as a second thought.

The Chief Justice took off his gloves as he let you finish before he took your hands in his. He could feel the bump on your finger where you held a pen, the tender spot where your flowers pricked you.

“I can’t do it, Neu,” you choked out, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”

“You don’t have to if it’s going to make you unhappy, if you cannot see a future with the person standing at the altar.”

He worked in rulings, evidence, facts; managing Focalors emotional outbursts was a terrible part of his job description but they never teetered into this territory. He was used to fleeting whims and de-escalation.

This? This was a decision that would change the course of your life. Not immediately, of course. But the future was a terrifying, uncertain thing, and you had expectations to contend with.

Expectations that did not involve him.

The pall of fear lifted from your face slowly, the same way morning dew disappeared from the grass. Something else blossomed in its place, like a sweet flower pushing through the cracks in the cobblestone streets, resilient and resolute.

“The thing is, I can. Just not with the man I was about to marry.”

Shooting him would have been less painful. Such an admission should have, as with all things today, been enough to make a heart soar, even manage to turn bitter water into sweet ambrosia. Your lips parted again before he could speak.

“And I understand you feel differently; you’ve never given me reason to believe otherwise and I am not asking for more than what you have to give. I would never do that to you. If I marry the man in there,” you nodded your head in the direction of the courthouse, “it will always be a lie. Maybe I’ll grow to tolerate him but I will never love him. Not like I love you. As I do now, I will spend the rest of my life looking into his eyes, wishing he was you.”

Neuvillette’s hands dropped yours to cup your face of their own accord. Before he could process anything else, he’d tilted your head up and pressed his lips to yours as if he was a man deprived of air. You were warm, despite the weather, and he could make out the familiar scent of your perfume amid the fresh flowers in your hair. He felt you relax, curve yourself into him, hands finding purchase on the soaked lapels of his robes.

He broke away, his face hot as he admired your swollen lips. Mixed in with your slight daze was that inquisitive expression he would never tire of, one you often gave to silently encourage him to continue speaking.

“Then no more wishing, mon amour,” he whispered, brushing away the stray tears pooling at the corners of your eyes. “Marry me.”

“Don’t just—”

“I should not have let it get as far as it has. What good is duty if your heart is elsewhere?”

“And where will we go, my Chief Justice? The people of Fontaine and our Archon might enjoy this scandal a little too much…it would be quite a spectacle.”

“Qiaoying Village is nice this time of year. I have an acquaintance in Liyue I can persuade to be a witness. Beyond that…we’ll let the current decide.”

His words shook something in you as you reached up and tugged at his cravat to pull him into another kiss. Longer than the last, smooth and steady like a morning tide, passion dancing like an undertow.

#neuvillette #neuvillette/female reader #neuvillette/reader #chief justice neuvillette #genshin impact neuvillette #arranged marriage #angst with a happy ending #fluff #romance #love confessions

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kvtie444 · 3 months

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⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET .8

summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo

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Standing outside the sorority house, I try to balance myself against the wall, waiting for Matt. The warm summer night feels comforting as he's on his way. Bright headlights approach, and I shield my eyes, peering through my fingers – Matt's car. I push off the wall, stumbling towards the vehicle. A car door opens, and there's Matt.

Oddly although I missed him, I dread seeing him. I focus my vision as he walks over, his blue eyes more intense than ever. He takes hold of my waist without a word, guiding me into the car and opening the door for me. I drop into the seat, leaning back and tilting my head, gazing at the other side of the car. Matt's hair brushes my face as he reaches over, buckling my seatbelt before closing my door and settling into the driver's seat. Instead of starting the car, he sighs, looking visibly stressed. Then, it hits me.

"Why did you drive here when I live down the road?" I ask, studying his side profile as he keeps his focus on the steering wheel. "Why did you call me instead of just walking there yourself?" he retorts quickly. I swallow, glancing at my lap. I feel like such an idiot.

"Need gas anyways," he mumbles before starting the car and heading to the station. I prop my arms by my window, leaning my head against them and staring out. It's awkward. Should I try to make conversation? Yes.

"I finished that book you gave me – Tristes Tropiques," I speak up. He hums in agreement quietly. The truth is, after he ended things with me, I reread it three times over the weekend, reading his annotations. I loved his handwriting, trying to understand how his brain works. Another silence.

"Are we nearly there yet?" I mumble, sitting up and looking at him. Silence. "Do you think when we get there, I could grab a drin-" "Jesus, y/n, can you just shut the fuck up? For one fucking minute, just stop running your mouth? Huh?" he cuts me off, looking at me and slamming his hand against the steering wheel after each question. I bite my tongue for a moment, keeping my gaze fixed on him. We stay silent until we reach the gas station, Matt unbuckling his seatbelt.

"You're such a dick," I mumble my thoughts. Matt whips his head to me, "Y/n, I don't wanna deal with your shit right now, okay?" he raises his voice, motioning his hand up towards me. I push his hand away, "Stop yelling at me," I grumble. He grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him, his hot breath fanning over my face. His eyes stay fixed on mine, now icy and cold. "Get your fucking shit together," he hisses at me, pushing me away from him. He opens the car door and slams it, going to fill up his car.

My eyes brim with water, and I'm quick to wipe them. I never wanted him to see me hurt ever again. I watch as he walks inside the station to pay. I hated how he was still in this facade, putting up with this nonchalant bullshit. I look down at my phone and check the time when I hear Matt get back in. He tosses a bottle of Gatorade and a cereal bar on my lap without a word. I decide it's best to keep my mouth shut and tear open the packet, taking a bite.

・₊✧ Matt pov ˚｡⋆

I was pissed at her, hating when she drank like this; it was irresponsible. I see her twist the cap of the Gatorade, her unsteady hand going up to her lips when she spills some on her lap, staining her white outfit. I sigh. She's quick to put the drink in the cup holder and tries to pat it dry with her hand. "I’m sorry," she mumbles, rubbing harder against the fabric of her skirt. I swallow, watching her frustrated state. "I'm sorry," she repeats, her voice breaking, and her rubbing becomes impossibly more aggressive. I see tears brim in her eyes, and my heart breaks. I grab her wrist, forcing her to look at me. "It’s okay, just leave it, okay?" I plead. She sniffs and pushes my hands away from her, then reaches for the car door. She gets out. Shit.

I’m quick to get out and follow her, not even bothering to shut my door behind me. "Y/n, get back in the car," she ignores me and keeps walking down the road. "You’re drunk, just get back in." Ignored again, I realize what she's doing. She's giving me the same treatment I gave her. I reach her and grab her arm, turning her back to me. "Can you just get back in the car, please?" "Get the fuck off me!" her voice breaks, pushing me away. I just stare at her, dry tears on her cheek that glistened in the moonlight. "You told me you fucking loved me, then you completely ghosted me. I mean, what the fuck, Matt?" she cries. I run my hand through my hair. "It’s more complicated than that, Y/n, come on, you know why I had to do that," I try to keep my cool, using a softer tone than earlier. There’s a silence, the only sound being passing cars by the road.

"Tell me you don't love me," she breaks the silence. I almost choke up. "Y/n, we're not together anymore," I mumble. Her eyes shift, but she keeps her stand, looking up at me. "Tell me you don't love me anymore," she repeats. Fuck.

I don't know how to play my card right now. I could lie, tell her I don't. But that would break her. I want her to do better, be a better person without me. Or I could tell her the truth. I still love her more than myself.

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tag list !!

@iloveneilperry @bernardenjoyer @daddyslilchickenfingers @mbbsgf @sturnvilmed @s1urnioloslvr @mattsbratt @mangoposts @christinarowie332 @recklesssturniolo @bluesturniolo333 @flowerxbunnie @kenzieiskoolaid @pepsiskiess @poopydroopt @byechristopher @solarsturniolo @m6ttsturniolo @lustfulslxt @stardustmf444 @thankyounextt @glossyfx @bellasturniolo @justurniolos @cl0esblogg @strumbolisworld @strniolosworld @chrisloyalgf @aliyahsbody @spideylovin @justangelheree @sturnioloenthusiast @nickmillersn1gf @soursturniolo@bernardenjoyer@stuniolobbg @luv4kozume@luvmxtt@urmommysbathroom@lexisecretaccx

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #angst #chris sturniolo x reader #fluff #smut #imagine

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diana-thyme · 1 year

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The Ultimate Deity Journal Guide

Similar to my grimoire guide, this is a guide on deity journals.

What Is A Deity Journal?

A deity journal is a journal dedicated to a deity. It’s filled with information, offerings, devotional pieces, etc. If you like journaling or can’t give other physical offerings (like food, libations, etc.), it’s one of the best offerings out there.

What Do I Use For It?

Usually deity journals are physical journals and notebooks. Binders and folders work as well. I have seen deity journals online, using things like Notion or Google Docs. Those are a little harder to format, but are great if you don’t have a notebook or aren’t a fan of physical journals.

So, What Do I Put In It?

Devotional Artwork

Devotional Playlists

Pressed/Dried Flowers or Herbs

Prayers

Devotional Poems or Stories

Myths

Recipes

Stickers

Experiences or Dreams

Photos

The Basics (Name, Epithets, Domains, Family, Associations, Holidays, Symbols, Sacred Days, Sacred Animals, Etc.)

Spells/Rituals That You Want To Or Have Done With Them

Offerings And Devotional Act Ideas

Journal Prompts

Magazine/Book Cutouts

Hymns

Shopping List (Things You Want To Buy For Them)

Fabric Scraps

Letters To Them

Divination Readings With Them

Coins Or Other Currencies

How You Celebrate (Or Plan To) Holidays Or Sacred Days With Them

UPGs

Altar Plans (Drawings Or Descriptions Of Altar Ideas)

Incense, Herb, And Oil Blends

Drops Of Wax, Wine, Etc.

Seed Packets

Blessings

Charms

Charm/Spell Bags

Travel Plans (Places You Want To Go For Your Deity)

Maps That Remind You of Them

Sigils Dedicates To Them

Superstitions Related To Them

Research On Their Birth Place

Devotional Jewelry Charging Station

Affirmations Dedicated/Influenced By Them

Small Sticks Or Branches

Book Annotations

Divination Techniques Related To Them

Relationship Goals (Better Communication, More Signs, Etc.)

Their Associated Rune/Tarot Card/Etc.

Teas And Tea Blends

Folklore/Mythology Entities Related To Them

Vision Board

Goals

Diary Entries And Rants

Taglocks

Paper/Straw/Etc. Dolls

Doodles

References/Further Reading

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taleah-bonnick · 5 months

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more sterek fic recs - all completed

finally, some more sterek! enjoy :)

quiet perfection by hyperlittlenori - this is one of my favourite sterek fics ever, it's honestly one of the softest things i've ever read and it has me grinning from ear to ear every single time i read it. it's an AU with a deaf derek and a sign speaking stiles. they meet for the first time at the station and are instantly enamoured with each other. all i want is for this fic to become a series, i just want more of them.

chasing slumber by hyperlittlenori - another fic by this author! this is some of the most intense sterek smut i've ever read in my life, i literally forgot to breathe during it. the boys use sex to cope but it's a lot healthier than it sounds, i swear. there's also a lot of fluff, i love this one so much. this authors writing is immaculate.

from love not lust by hyperlittlenori - another one, i know! this one is just really simple and sweet. the boys fall in love through book annotations and it's so extremely soft. asexual derek is beautiful.

deaton's dream beans by thenerdnextdoor - a coffeeshop/bookstore AU! derek is a brooding hermit who owns a bookstore and stiles is an obnoxious but adorable barista who's trying to start a war with a rival coffee shop. this is such a fun story, with a tiny bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff. also, background thiam! i've read this multiple times, it's just so silly.

i ain't scared of your teeth by antisepticdork - stiles gets attacked by harpies, derek gets growly about it, they fall in like. this one is very much a 'monster of the week' fic, very chill and a bit goofy.

we've written volumes (in blood and scars and ink) by notthequiettype - stiles gets attacked by the alpha pack and derek nurses him back to health with a whole lotta werewolf healing mojo. solid banter, minor smut and a lot of fluff.

you saw me standing alone by orphan account - so obviously i like fics where stiles gets hurt and derek plays the sexy nurse, because here's another one! this is such a sweet fic, and the smut at the end is A+, slutty bottom derek is one of my favourite flavours of derek. he mewls, guys. mewls.

this is ridiculous by zosofi - a pining derek, a bloodthirsty, virgin killing unicorn and an oblivious, virginal stiles stilinski. this fic is so goofy and i love it.

warm shadows by stilinskisparkles - stiles gets hurt after another kidnapping and derek offers to help him out while he heals. a zero angst fic with some great banter and an evil peter hale thrown into the mix. these boys are so in love i wanna scream.

hear it in the silence by elisela - post season six fic where stiles and derek are best friends. stiles drags derek along on an impromptu road trip to escape the pressure of college and they realise they're in love along the way. such a romantic fic with top tier healthy communication, it's just a really beautiful story about falling in love with your best friend.

click here for part one of my sterek fic recs!

#ao3 #ao3fic #fic recommendation #archive of our own #fanfic #fic rec #sterek fic rec #sterek #stiles x derek #derek hale #sterek is eternal #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fan fiction #sterek au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic

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hestiaflames · 18 hours

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the enigma of jeremy knox

after one full read and revisiting some of my annotations (and shoutout to @andrewminyardslawyer for this collection of passages) I have attempted to collect my observations and conclusions/theories about the enigma named Jeremy Knox

please tell me your interpretations

Jeremy’s Dad

Mr. Wilshire is Jeremy’s stepfather (we know from "Bryson is in the sitting room with Mr. Wilshire" and then Jeremy referring to him as his stepfather. I was confused about this at the beginning lol)

This means that Knox is Jeremy’s dad’s name. Why doesn’t he want to be called Knox? Is it the reminder of divorce or his family drama when he’d rather not think about it?

Speaking of Jeremy’s dad: "Dad's been stationed [in Europe] a couple times". Most likely military, then. The tense (“Dad has been”) suggests that his dad is still in his life, not dead or estranged (otherwise I’d expect “Dad was stationed” instead). Unless perhaps Jeremy is going out of his way to hide it? He does avoid talking about his family, but he brings this up unprompted and I get the sense that Laila and Cat would know something that big so I don’t think this is a lie

Jeremy maintaining a relationship with his dad could certainly be a point of conflict with his stepfather and siblings, but doesn't seem to fit the "freshman year exy banquet scandal" we're catching wind of. It's possible his dad was involved, but I don't think it's where my money would go.

Jeremy’s Siblings

Cat tells Jean that Jeremy has one sister and two brothers. Twice we hear Bryson referred to as “the older brother” and Annalise as his younger sister, so the siblings are: Bryson, Jeremy, and Annalise-and-unnamed-brother-in-unknown-order.

Of course, we must address “Jeremy has–three” and Jean “idly wondering what she’d changed at the last minute and why”. It sounds like the number changed (unless I’m missing a possibility here?), so why?

Step or half siblings? There is a stepfather in the mix, so she could have increased it to include step or half siblings, but I lean towards not this. Jeremy says that “the Knox family was duty-bound to dress up and smile bright for [the] cameras”, which would be odd to say if his siblings weren’t all Knoxes. Also, Cat tells Jean this after telling him that her two oldest siblings are half siblings, so imo it would be an odd thing to hide on Jeremy’s behalf

Otherwise, I think we’re talking about a death or estrangement. The unnamed younger brother, probably (though perhaps a fourth sibling). Now this is “broke the family in half” or “destroyed the family” territory. “broke the family in half” could be a death but almost sounds more like a schism, perhaps between Dad & Unnamed Brother and the rest of the family? Or perhaps Jeremy&Dad?

Jeremy & Bryson. What is going on here?

Pretty much the first thing we learn about Jeremy is that he is avoiding his older brother, leaving without his keys to avoid the possibility of an interaction.

Jeremy says that Bryson always spends his summers at home, and also specifically says he’ll be staying at Cat & Laila’s over the summer but then only over on weekends during the school year.

The conversation he has with Lucas: “Do you feel safe with him there?” “He’s my brother” “That’s not what I asked” could be read as him being protective of his teammate, but also could be implying that Jeremy knows what it’s like to feel unsafe around his brother. Learning there have been physical altercations wouldn’t come from left field.

The Fall Banquet Exy Scandal

Speaking of breaking the family in half, what happened at this fall banquet?

Annalise says “Overdue for a new scandal… End the way you started”, so it happened his freshman year. She went out of her way to forget everything about Exy and can’t forgive Jeremy for continuing to play, so she seems to blame Exy as much as she blames Jeremy.

If it did in fact have to do with the younger brother, did he get hurt badly or die playing? If a high schooler died playing Exy three years before, would we have heard about it from Jean or Neil? Our other two narrators are not what you’d call tuned into the outside world all the time. On the other hand, yes Jeremy compartmentalizes even in his narration, but you’re telling me it never crosses his mind while playing a very rough sport if his brother was severely injured? It’s possible, but I’m not sold on this theory. It also wouldn’t explain why it’s tied specifically to the banquet.

The other thought I have is that something happened at that banquet that was some kind of PR mess. The family-in-politics obsession with being a “picture-perfect family” and Jeremy being unwelcome at dinner after bleaching his hair support this, but the Trojan reputation doesn’t. Whatever happened would have to walk the line between totally unacceptable to the family but also not a blemish on the Trojan reputation. Jeremy is made captain and Jean (who knows who he is and would be aware of a Trojan scandal even if it happened before his freshman year, since he was in the Nest and with Riko and Kevin) doesn’t know about it. Kevin is obsessed with the Trojans and with Jeremy, and Jeremy’s teammates (besides Lucas’ almost-comment about him being gay) show nothing but respect for him and his leadership.

I’ve seen speculation that it could have to do with Jeremy being gay, but this would again seem to contradict the fact that Jean and especially Kevin would know, wouldn’t they? I also don’t think Nora’s gonna do that. She wrote gay, trans, and polyamorous Trojans, which you could argue are accepted because it’s the Trojans, but even Jean doesn’t blink about Cody’s pronouns. It doesn’t really make sense to me that she’d pointedly avoid doing 2007-appropriate homophobia and then turn around and do 2007-appropriate homophobia. Possible? Yes. Do I think it’s gonna happen? No.

Cops

“There was little to no chance he’d know them, and no reason they’d recognize him, but Jeremy kept his gaze forward and mouth shut until they were past”. He’s afraid to be recognized. Is it because of a previous interaction (from the banquet? the scandal?) or because of his family? Is he apprehensive about them reacting to him, or something getting back to his family?

Later Rhemann offers to send Jeremy away before bringing the cops in after Jean is attacked. Jean has no idea why Rhemann is suggesting it, but it means that whatever Jeremy’s fear of cops is, he knows about it and also assumes Jeremy told Jean. This doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that Just Comes Up with your coach, so it’s probably based on a prior experience in college. The freshman year banquet again sounds like the likely explanation here.

Jeremy and Mental Health

Jean says “Maybe [Grayson] will also kill himself” and Jeremy replies “That isn’t a joke”, with “unexpected ferocity”. Cat winces. This could be Jeremy being well adjusted (A little before this, Cat says, “That’s not a thing well-adjusted people say”, after all), but his tone and Cat’s reaction makes it seem a lot more personal than Jeremy just saying “Suicide jokes aren’t funny”.

Guys, I think Jeremy’s mystery brother might’ve killed himself. If he played Exy and was bullied or maybe got seriously injured and later killed himself, and cops showed up when it happened, and it was somehow brought up during that banquet and Jeremy said something or reacted somehow that caused a familial rift… I think this is my leading theory.

Initially I didn’t think anything of “There’s been an accident”, but I wonder if maybe that’s how the news was broken to him about his brother. Or if his family insists on calling it “an accident” and maybe what happened at the banquet was Jeremy acknowledging that he doesn’t think it was.

“The right therapist can be legit life changing–just look at Jeremy for proof”, Cat says. We knew from the first Jeremy chapter that he was in therapy and talked about his family, but “life changing” speaks to the severity of all of it. His mom picking the therapist suggests that either he was off the rails enough for her to intervene (more likely mental health issues than something like drug use, again given the Trojans) or that she’s more supportive or sympathetic to him than his siblings and step father. We hear few references to his mom; just a passing comment about her bookkeeper, a mention that she makes the kids go to fundraisers and other events, and that she’s allergic to dogs. Oh, we also know that his mother didn’t hit him. We know he doesn’t get on with his sister or older brother and is “permanently on his stepfather’s bad side”, but very little at all about his relationship with his mom.

Miscellaneous

About the floozies, and I actually don’t think this is Jeremy backstory. Cat says it was “in response to some drama my freshman year”. She’s a rising junior, so that would’ve been Jeremy’s junior year. Jeremy’s scandalous exy banquet was his freshman year, so I think this is Catalina backstory, not Jeremy’s. I am obsessed with the fact that the queer Trojans nicknamed themselves the floozy line. Icons

One other line that seems potentially telling to me is, “What’s Grandpa think of this investment of yours”. What did Annalise mean by investment? Jeremy putting his time into exy? His use of money? The last thing Jeremy said was about Jean, could he be the “investment”? I think it’s most likely about exy, maybe how his commitment to it either reflects badly on the family or is seen as a silly endeavor

god, i could not be more excited for tsc2, or for the speculation in the meantime

#the sunshine court #tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #jeremy knox #jean moreau #usc trojans #aftg #all for the game #my post #aftg meta #tsc meta

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m0e-ru · 1 month

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(mall santa voice) what do you guys want for 320 this year

#kommento #// im in shambles this year especially like . everythiung else i planned but i couldnt really do OOPS !!!#// i mean 320 in paricular isnt too bad i just have a few things in hte backburner i thin.k and i dont know which one to do #// if i subbed cca the first 320 celebration do you want me to annotate it so you know what makes it funny as a manzai gas station skit HAH #// or maybe something new to ao3 or another art piece #// imso sleepy. do you guys wnat special 3am moel happy hour

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lz-didyounotice · 2 months

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Baking weekends : The surprise

Those gifs do not belong to me.

Heyyyyy! How are you lots ? As promised, here comes another episode of the baking week ends ! This follows up the event of "An hymne to love", as well as the last espisode, "Kiss the cook".

Anyway... Hope you enjoy !

Froggit-

Warning : there's a lot of fluff, mention of making out in the tardis. English is not my first language.

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The grocery store seemed to be way too full for a Saturday morning. Paying for the few articles you had in your basket, you got out, frantically searching for your car. There was so little time until the doctor and Clara came back from another of their adventures.

Driving as fast as the law allowed you, you pulled up to your small cottage, sprinting toward your house, paper bags in hand. Your coat was quickly put on a hanger as your shoes went flying in the entry.

Washing your hands conscientiously, you tried to get your plan straight one more time, making sure nothing was missing.

You had wanted to surprise the Doctor for a long while now. Back when Amy and Rorry were still traveling with you, a brilliant idea had come to you in the form of a red recipe book. The cover was old and titled with circles and other intricate designs you soon realized, was Gallifreyan. Having seen the notes the doctor tended to leave in the console room for repairs the Tardis needed, it was only ever so obvious.

For the sake of this recipe, you had to go to small markets while on another planet, wanting to find every single ingredient of what the doctor had stated to be his favorite dessert back home. Finally opening the book, you couldn’t help yourself, and shed a tear as you saw the numerous yellow sticky notes on every page, annotations left by Donna, your previous self older sister.

"How can I be sure he ain't as rotten as the last one?"

Donna was upset to be keeped from such an important part of your life. If you were honest, you were sad to not be able to share it, but it was either that or losing her once more.

On that day, you had asked for her help, but she wanted to know more about that brilliant

stranger you said changed you in better ways.

"Do you reckon I would be baking for him if he weren't important?"

"Cor blimey, you two had been goin’ out for bleedin’ three years, and I still never met the bloke!"

“I told you he traveled an awful lot.” you let out passing by the radio and changing the station.

“Just spill it if he's scared of meeting mom.” She let out with a small laugh. You could only do the same, bumping her with your hip as you did so.

You missed her dearly, her and her sassy comebacks. Since your new “Regeneration” you haven't been able to see her. What would she even say ? She didn’t know this version of you, you didn’t even look the same, and putting her life at risk would be irresponsible. You had just hopped that may be one day you would meet her once more.

Putting up some energetic music, you wore your apron and got to work, sleeves put up to the elbow. The adventure only truly started now, something you waited so long to put up.

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

The doctor and Clara had been off all day, the brunette insisting on going a little longer, still waiting for your signal. The timelord was starting to be suspicious of Claras behavior, wondering what got his companion so energized for such a long adventure, he even was starting to wonder if she wasn’t a clone trying to keep him from earth longer than normal.

But like the over-excited traveler he was, he couldn’t put down the offer, for all he knew, he was expected back at your cottage by the end of afternoon. Today was a busy day for you, and even if he wanted to have taken you with them, you insisted for them to spend some time together. It saddened him of course, none the less he understood today wasn’t a good day to go off with her.

Right now, the doctor was admiring a beautiful fez he had found within the small shop he and Clara came across, visiting a brand new planet. Soon enough he felt his shoulder being tapped on by the said girl, a tired smile visibly drawing itself on her lips. Asking the doctor to take her home, Clara had just closed her phone, saving it in her back pocket.

After buying the fez, he seemed proud as he pushed the levers on the console. Rocking his new hat, Clara only could wonder if he would ever come across one without having to put it on. Even if she didn’t dream of seeing him less happy, she wanted the surprise that awaited him back home would light him up even brighter.

With the Brunette back at her apartment, the doctor had no patience in waiting some more and launched the Tardis. Soon, his foot touched the vast landing of grass, still illuminated as the sun slowly hid behind the clouds.

Without any hesitation, his hand found the ringing bell of the small cottage, his heart pounding harder and harder as the seconds got by.

Passing your head by the now unlocked window, the doctor seemed to ignite, happy to finally be back. “Darling, the door is open! Come on in!” Your hair was a mess, your glasses hanging from around your neck, beautifully portrayed by the light of the setting sun highlighting your figure. Smiling at you, the doctor entered the house, coming practically 10 seconds later face to face with you. “Well, welcome home Sweetheart”.

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

“I told you to not cheat! close those beautiful eyes before I smack you.”

The doctor was too curious to wait for the surprise you had put up for him. And right now, all he wanted was to take a tiny peak. But knowing how serious you could be about those things, he didn’t jocked around long before closing his eyes.

Soon you entered the room, a beautiful cake in your hands. Its sunny color, outshining the yellow of your apron. Slowing placing the cake before the Doctor. You gently brushed his shoulder. “Doctor, you can open them… ”

Finally letting go of his face, the man thought he was dreaming. Before him stood something that was supposed to be long gone, never to be seen again. And as he admired the wonderful pâtisserie, he couldn’t help but notice it wasn't just any Gallifreyan cake; it was a homemade one.

Both his hearts skipped a beat as he realized the significance of the gesture. Turning to his wife with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, he couldn't help but smile.

"Did you...?" he started, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

You couldn’t help but beamed with pride when you saw the love in his eyes. "Yes, Doctor. I thought since you couldn't go back to Gallifrey yet, I'd bring a little piece of it to you."

The Doctor's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he looked at the cake, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of your gesture. At this moment, all he could think of was how much he loved you, and how much you meant.

Taking a deep breath to steady his emotions, the Doctor rose from his chair, wrapping both arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, trying to hide his tears as they got out of control. Pulling you into a tight yet comforting hug, all he could muster was a soft “Thank you” thick with all the love he could let out. "This... means more to me than you could ever know."

Your hand was now passing on his back, soothing him as much as you could. Your other tangled itself with his soft hair as you stood there for another minute. You never wanted this embrace to end. But as you pulled slightly away, you could only see how much the doctor truly meant every word.

With a gentle smile, you reached down, your hand slowly cradling his cheek as you leaned in softly, closing the distance between them. Your breath mingled, warm yet sweet as your lips brushed together in a soft yet passionate kiss. But as you parted, the doctor only tried to reach for your lips, making you snort softly at the surprised look on his face.

“I do believe we still have to taste the cake, now don’t we?”

“I- … yes”

“We will continue… this after…-”

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And to say you had outdone yourself was an understatement. You would have expected it to taste funny with the numerous strange ingredients you had to add. It was heavenly, and by the doctor's face, you could only tell he was enjoying every second of it.

“Is it any good ?” Serving yourself another portion.

"Blimey, love! This... this is fantastic! Haven't had a nibble like this in eons... It's not just good, it's utterly brilliant! Delicious doesn't even begin to describe it!" He answered, still trying to shove more cake in his mouth.

Your cheeks flared up, genuinely happy, and proud you had done such good work. In the beginning, you feared it wouldn’t have the same taste as the one that existed back home, and you felt relieved that the doctor could recognize a fond memory in it.

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It was safe to say, the cake did not survive long enough. You and the doctor, now cuddling in the softness of the Tardis covers.

After the cake had been devoured, you had to have a turn. The thankful kisses you gave one another, turned into a heated session of making out against the tardis console, his fingerprints still lingering on your inner thighs. And just like that it was you and him against the world once more.

His fingers passed through your short ginger hair as a comfortable silence installed itself. You looked up at him and could tell he had some questions about the whole surprise.

“You have a lot of questions don’t you ?”

“I always do…”

“Ask away then, I know you’re curious.”

Shifting slightly closer, the doctor leaned onto his elbow, making his face right above you. “How long did this take you ?”

Your hand reaching out for his jaw, you pulled a small but sad grin. “I started trying back when Amy was still traveling with us. Unfortunately, I died shortly after so… been planning longer than our wedding. ”

The doctor laughed slightly with you, remembering the chaotic moment. “And the recipe? Where did you find it? The Tardis database is still written in Gallifreyan as far as I’m aware of- ”

“No such trouble when you have learned to read it.”

“What..?”

“Why so surprised? Did you think I would traverse the universe for eons and not try to embrace your culture? What sort of wife would I be ?”

And just when he thought he couldn’t love you more, he did. His hearts swelled with pride as he looked into your eyes. Caressing your cheek, he kissed your forehead, brushing away some strands of hair still in the way.

“You truly are remarkable (Y/N).....”

“It goes both ways my Bowtie maniac.”

And as the sun rose again on the Tardis, the two lovers intertwined once more, laying one against another as close as you could, afraid time might slip by and take you both apart.

You couldn’t have dreamed of a better outcome.

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

Bonus :

“I knew Clara was up to something!” Complained the time lord only now realizing why his companion was so indecisive about where to land.

“Only figured now she had to keep you busy while I was baking?”

“That’s an awful trickery-”

“As far as I’m aware, if you hadn't been off, you wouldn’t have this wonderful fez of yours, now would you ?” Turning around him you swiftly took the red hat off his head, putting it on your own.

“Oi, mine-” He quickly tried to retrieve it, but knowing you it could be easy or involve a lot of running.

Dodging his hand, you took the opportunity to run off in the Tardis corridors singing “Nope, mine now!” as you ran across the control room.

“(Y/N)! ” The doctor was slightly panicked but it was just a matter of time before all of it evolved into laughter.

#11th doctor x reader!oc #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who x imortal reader #eleventh doctor x reader #noble family x reader #reader Oc #fluff

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solarpunkani · 10 months

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Solar Powered Community Fridges - Concept Art

So one of my grad school classes is a 8 week long group project to essentially come up with an artistic solution to a problem. Of course, my pitch was solarpunk in nature, and my group actually really liked it! Basically, the concept is to design a series of solar panel-powered community fridges, to help address food insecurity and build community in different areas without having to rely on a specific host building to provide power. What better time to show my concept art than Solarpunk Aesthetic Week?

Originally, I was just drawing up ideas with what usually comes to mind when I imagine fridges--upright fridges. Here's my concept art!

In these sketches, my main concern was imagining how these fridges would fit into the community alongside their power sources--I didn't want them to be too bulky, but I also wanted them to be available for easy access. I also figured they'd need shelter for the fridge's longevity, as well as to protect any users from the element. It'd also be nice to have them alongside other mutual aid sources like little free pantries, little free libraries, the like. One of my favorite designs is the sheltered community space on page 2, with the fridge, the seat, the pantry, and the library all in one protected structure with solar panels on the top. Having a table near the community fridge would also be nice to give people a place to rest as well.

However, around this time, I started trying to find out just how big of a solar panel would be needed to power a fridge like this, and the results were... a bit discouraging. Until! I was informed that chest freezers use way less energy to keep cool--cool air sinks, so opening an upright fridge releases most of the cold air that's been building up and makes the machine work harder to keep cool, whereas a chest fridge doesn't lose nearly as much cold air. In addition, some people have converted chest freezers into chest refrigerators for as little as ~$30 USD. Due to the insulation in a chest freezer, converted chest fridges use way less energy than their upright counterparts to keep cool, making it way more feasible to power them with solar.

So of course, I had to get to drawing again!

Since I'd already concepted a variety of structures for upright fridges, for the chest fridges I mostly focused on their design and possible convenience/accessibility concerns I had been worried about, one of the main being having to reach inside vertically instead of horizontally--several of my family members have difficulty bending, so I was worried having a chest fridge would make things more difficult for others like them. There are likely other ways to address this concern that I haven't thought of, but for now I've concepted putting a grabber tool inside of every fridge so people with trouble bending can still get things. How well it'd work in reality, I'm not sure...

Buuut these are my concepts so far! I hope you like them, I hope they're cool? Let me know what you think! I think these would be cool to have in a solarpunk future--whether they're entirely possible today or will have to wait until a somewhat-distant, 'solar panels can generate more energy with less size and fridges are also way more energy efficient' future I can't say, but it's cool to think about!

[Image 1: Pencil sketches of refrigerators connected to solar power. The annotations on them are as follows. An arrow points to a magnet caddy on the freezer door with markers and stickers, saying "Markers + labels for dating donations". An arrow points to a battery-structure at the base of a solar panel system saying "Doubles as charging station for phones & stuff". An arrow points to a slanted roof structure over a fridge saying "Bus stop-esque structure." An arrow points at a glass door grocery store-style fridge saying "any kind of fridge, any size."

Image 2: Pencil sketches of refrigerators connected to solar power. The annotations on them are as follows. An arrow points to a fridge under a slanted roof structure, saying "Paintings on the fridge itself." Over a portion of a brick wall is written "Murals can be on accompanying walls or on the shelter structure for the fridge." An arrow points to a wheel-mounted solar panel saying "solar panel". A community space is named at the top "The Free Community Space: Open 24/7" An arrow points to the outside wall of a community space structure saying "mural on outer walls". Items inside are labeled 'Freedge, Little free Library, Seeds, Pantry'. An arrow points to a couch, saying "Maybe a bench instead?" Written on the inner wall is "mural inside." An arrow pointing at the space says "Community built space w/ lights, solar panels, little free library, freedge, seed library, little free pantry, couch (???). Solar battery stored behind or on top. Plastic magnet door to protect from elements? Like those magnet curtains?"

Image 3: Pencil sketches of refrigerators connected to solar power. The annotations on them are as follows. An arrow points to a slanted structure over a mini fridge, saying "Solar panel on roof?" Another arrow points to the side saying "Chalkboard paint--anyone can art here." Underneath says "variety of sizes/energy needs mean wider availability". At the top of a curved shelter on a pole is written "solar panel", along the sloping sides is "curved solar panels" and "Or solar voltaic glass?" On the underside of the structure is a label saying "Could be in a park or smth (something)". An arrow points to a box at the base of the structure, saying "charging station" and another arrow labels a table and chairs.

Image 4: Pencil sketches of refrigerators connected to solar power. The annotations on them are as follows. Along the top of a slightly-curved roof structure is an arrow saying "curved solar panel roof. renogy curved 4ft x 2ft for example". To the side of the roof is written "4 panels each side, 0.45 kWh x 8 = 3.6 kWh/h". A chest fridge is labeled "converted chest fridge", and a glass-front box is labeled "Old cabinet/case now Little Free Library". A box sitting between them is labeled "I hear car batteries are good solar storage for cheaper?" A standalone chest fridge has the following labels: "Could paint on fridge exterior" "solar panel on top of fridge?" "most chest freezers are 22-28 in wide &24-38 or 54-68 in long. The longest wattage panel needed would be ~50 in long & ~26 in wide"

Image 5: Pencil sketches of refrigerators connected to solar power. The annotations on them are as follows. The inside of an open lid has an arrow pointing to a grabber object saying "Grabber for accessibility for those w/ trouble bending". A label points at a strap fastened to the inside of the lid saying "straps to help shorter people pull the lid closed." A variety of arrows point to a drawing of an open, decorated chest fridge saying the following: "Counter-balanced lid" "Baskets/crates for storage -> can slide or be removed to access underneath" "Murals on front & sides (not back)" ]

#solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic week #community fridge #freedge #concept design #solar panels #solarpunk community #sustainability #ani rambles #out of queue #one could easily argue they'd be more Aesthetique if I had colored them and i totally agre #i just couldn't get the colored versions to give off the Vibe I wanted on digital so pencil sketches we go #my art #solarpunkani art

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no-phrogs-in-hats · 5 months

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Baby Steps Part3

Larissa x Pregnant!reader

Summary: Larissa and the reader hear their baby's heartbeat for the first time

Warning: Light NSFW

Read Part 2 here

Your lips were on hers the second you stepped into the house. You grabbed and groped at her clothes, desperation taking over and guiding you every step of the way.

Larissa, who was enjoying every bit of it, tried to break away, only giggling as you pulled her back in. “Darling, please,” she chuckled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Damn right, you’re not,” you grinned, pushing yourself closer as you made it to the bedroom. You only let her go once you were in the bathroom and she began preparing the bath as you undressed. In a satin robe, you stood at your side of the shared counter, removing your makeup and washing your face.

As you dried your face, you watched in the mirror as Larissa approached you and pushed herself closely into your back. You relished in the feeling of her lips close to your ear and her hands wandering your body.

“The bath is ready when you are,” she breathed.

You made eye contact with her through the mirror as you applied your moisturizer. “I’ll be there in a second, you go ahead–Larissa!”

A sharp smack landed on your ass and Larissa pressed a kiss to your neck. “I’ll be in the bath then…I love you.”

“There is something about you in this condition that makes me want to ravish every single inch of you.” Larissa’s voice came out softly in your ear and she began pressing light kisses just underneath it.

“It’s the pheromones,” you shrugged, grinning to yourself and leaning into her embrace. You tipped your head back onto her shoulder to give her a proper kiss. “What exactly do you want to do to every single inch of me?”

Her hands moved to your shoulders and began squeezing them, fingers digging into the flesh and working the knots out that sat deep in the muscles. You couldn’t hold back a groan and smiled, her voice lowering significantly. “I want to touch you…I want to kiss every square inch of your gorgeous body…I want to watch you shake underneath me before I’ve even properly touched you…And then, when you’re all worked up, I want to hold your legs open, make it impossible for you to close them, and fuck you until you’re a shaking mess.”

Standing up abruptly, you get out of the bathtub. “Alright, this bath is over, let’s go.”

January rolled around quickly and soon you were back in class teaching students who would rather do anything else than annotate Shakespearian plays. The eighth week of your pregnancy had the morning sickness at an all time high. The only thing you were able to stomach at breakfast was a cup of tea and your usual morning quickies with Larissa were replaced with her holding your hair back as you retched into the toilet.

Larissa stocked up on plenty of Saltines and oyster crackers–some of the only foods you could have at lunch that wouldn’t result in vomiting it up the class period after. By dinner, the nausea had subsided and you could have something heavier–mainly grilled cheese and tomato soup. You had that same meal every single night for a whole week with how bad your cravings were.

In February, by the thirteenth week, the morning sickness had subsided almost completely. And, as a result, your cravings grew worse. Slushies from a nearby gas station were your lunch almost every day, and you were pained when you began to crave smoked salmon.

“Larissa, I can’t handle this.” You sat in her office at lunch, drinking your third slushie of the week. “I can’t stop craving smoked salmon. I need it. I need it like I need air.”

Larissa chuckled. “You’ll get over it, sweet pea.”

“Will I, Larissa??” you said dramatically. “Will I??”

You sat in the waiting room of the obstetrics office with Larissa, both of you anticipating the appointment where you’d finally hear the heartbeat. Between your bump finally showing, to hearing the heartbeat for the first time, your own heart was racing with excitement.

Your name was called and your vitals were taken before the nurse took you back to the room. “The sonographer should be here soon.”

Laying down on the table, you lifted your shirt and unbuttoned your pants for the sonographer to squeeze the gel onto your stomach. Larissa held your hand and you both watched the screen closely as the doppler pressed into your abdomen hard.

“Alright, there are your ovaries, your uterus, and…there’s your baby! A strong heartbeat too! It’s a good sign!”

It was like no other feeling. The sound of the heartbeat filled your ears and it was like a sweet melody. A smile was painted on your face, unwavering even as the sonographer wiped the gel off of you.

“If you go to reception you can go ahead and schedule your twenty week ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby,” the sonographer said before escorting you out.

“Are you crying?” Larissa asked.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you wiped your eyes quickly. “It’s the hormones! I swear! Oh God…I did not expect this reaction to hearing the heartbeat.”

You decided on the Weathervane for lunch, choosing a booth in the back where you devoured a grilled cheese and french fries.

“So,” Larissa began, “do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

You thought hard, listening to your intuition carefully. “A girl.”

“Is that wishful thinking?” Larissa asked.

“No!” you gasped. “I genuinely think it’ll be a girl!”

Larissa giggled and took a sip of her hot chocolate. “Well, I think it’ll be a boy.”

“You’re just saying that to disagree with me,” you said.

“How dare you!” Larissa said in mock outrage. “I would never do such a thing!”

You were both quiet, dropping the subject momentarily before you brought it up one last time.

“I bet ten dollars it’ll be a girl.”

“Fifteen that it’s a boy.”

“You’re on.”

Tag list: @gwenistheloml @barbarasstar @gwendolinechristierulez @furrysharkfart

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #fanfic #fluff

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