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yandere-wishes · 3 years

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⭐Yandere Joestars⭐

(Parts 1-7 + Bonus Charcter: Joseph and Johnny’s characterizations are based off @dear-yandere ‘s interperations) I tried to write this mostly in the Joestars' POV. Their respective darlings resemble lifelike dolls rather than human beings to further illustrate how out of touch with reality the Jojos have become.

Warnings: Gore, kidnapping, dehumanization.

Edited: By the amazing Peri!! (@tealyjade-libran )

⭐Jonathan Joestar is possessive. ⭐

It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it...

It's an old saying, one that Jonathan remembers from an antique storybook his mother use to read him. It didn't mean anything back then, when he was still an infant too young and new, to fully comprehend what "owning" and "losing" was. But as the years ticked by faster than any clock could keep track of, things started to change. What had once been a passing quote in a chivalrous story about knights and dragons, soon turned into the epitome of Jonathan Joestar's life.

Soon love wasn't about saving a princess or impressing the neighborhood girls with his boxing skills. No, all too soon love became about own and guarding.

There may have been a time -long before "Jojo" and Dio met- when Jonathan was just like any other gentleman. Tender and sweet, flirtish at gatherings and charming in ladies' companies...but that was a Jonathan from a could-be-past that had been demolished the minute Dio Brando stepped foot onto the Joestar estate. From then on things depleted all so quickly. Everything Jonathan had come to unconsciously cherished had been so easily stripped from him by his beloved new "brother".

Everything he loved had been killed, destroyed, or broken in some inhuman way. His friends had abandoned him, his lover had distorted him, his father didn't even notice him...

"It's only when you lose something, that you start to cherish it". The second time he hears that phrase, it freezes him to the pavement, his body star-struck like he just received a message from the heavens. Although it's rather peculiar, why "heaven" would convey a message to him in such an unholy place.

With Dio having practically kicked Jonathan out of the mansion and countryside. Jojo had no other place to go but the back allies of London. Sure he still tried to be home for supper and bedtime and any other time his father may get an inkling of his absence. But when there was no need to 'appear' Jonathan took to the London streets away from Dio and his lackeys.

In fate's bizarre game, it's in a backstreet that reeks of days old licker and rotting flesh of paupers that no one has bothered to bury. That Jojo hears that life-defining idiom once more. His dulling sapphire blue eyes follow the mist of those melodious words. Staring until they're practically itching to cut through his sockets and run after those little words. But they stop right before they can leave their eyelets, they stop and stare at the figure that strolls out of the shadows, in such a way, that would make Jojo's father slap him across the face for being "barbarous".

It's luck or fate or maybe even destiny that leads the heir of the Joestar legacy to meet his darling in the slums of England.

"How my heart resonates when I lay my weary eyes on your enchanting face..."

There's an odd sweetness about the naivety that surrounds his little friend. A sort of innocence that comes with not knowing about the hell that he's gone through. It's charming in a moderate way, his darling can't come to despise him if they haven't got a clue who he is. Keeping both his worlds as far apart as possible is really the only option left. Dio and his friends can't hurt his new friend? Lover? Companion? In actuality, Jonathan really doesn't know what you are to him. At first, you're merely a distraction from his crumbling, lonely shell of an existence. A sort of invisible pillar holding up London's bridge before it collapses into the River Thames. Sure he views you as another person, unlike the other noblemen Jonathan has no desire to treat you as anything less than a respectable young lady despite your social statutes.

Dio can have the noblemen and ladies, he can have all of George's affection and favor, Heck Dio can have the whole goddamn world for all Jonathan cares. So long as he has his darling, his sunflower, his only means for living, then he will be content.

Jojo lost everything he once loved, but he swears it to every star in the night sky that'll preserve his darling from the wickedness that runs this cruel world. He'll cherish her while she's still in his arms...

He'll protect her, just like the knights did in the old bedtime stories his mother would tell him.

"...I swear on my honor as a Joestar that I shall never lose you to the likes of anyone, I'll be a true gentleman, a true knight and I'll protect you from any who wishes cause you harm."

⭐Joseph Joestar is Protective and all so patronizing.⭐

Why must Love hurt so much?

It's solitude, pure utter solitude that attracts Joseph to his darling. Oh sure, he must have known them from an earlier time in his life, back when the words Hammon and Ripple just sounded like fancy dessert names. Back when he was still a naive kid wishing on every goddamn star that he could just meet one of his parents for a fraction of a second. Back when life was easy when everything made sense. That's when he first met his darling. Although all so many years ago he probably just thought of them as the little sister he never got a chance of having.

There's a numbness growing inside him now that his life has slipped off its axes, hurling into unknown darkness that plagues him in the form of Pillarmen and red gems.

Everywhere he looks there's a reminder that nothing's going back to the way it used to be. No waking up to Granny Erina's voice calling him down for breakfast, no running around chasing Old Man Speedwagon. Everything is gone, replaced by Lisa Lisa's brutal training and Ceaser's endless taunting.

Day by day nothing changes, but once he looks back every little thing is different. Ruptured and mangled into something unrecognizable.

But then there's his darling. Someone -or rather something- that's still the same. Just like before. Her smile is still the same as ever, bright and cheery as she runs up to him wrapping her arms around his abdomen muttering about how much she missed her "Dear Big Brother".

(Y/N) is a comfort, a familiarity in a strange new world. She's something so frail and vulnerable, not to mention naive. Thrusted into a world where horror writers don't dare venture into. It's so likely that she'd be captured by one of Kar's zombie vampire things or -even worse- charmed by Caesar’s silver tongue.

It's thoughts like these that haunt Joseph at night, keep him up and wandering into her room just to gaze at her sleeping form. He's lucid enough to know how it might look. Like he's the bad guy trying to take advantage of a defenseless little girl. But he can justify his actions, he's her big brother, he has to watch over especially when she's at her most vulnerable. If Ceaser ever tried anything or some vampire freak snatched her away in the dead of night, Joseph would never forgive himself!

But what does he get for all his efforts? What does he get for all his sleepless nights and hours upon hours of worrying? Just a small smile and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. No sincere, "Thank you big brother," or, "You're my hero Joseph!" Nothing, nothing worthwhile anyway.

Now it's a competition, a battle to the death if it has to be -funny how he takes this more seriously than his match against Wamuu.- He's competitive by nature and he's willing to do anything to earn his darling's affection once more. He doesn't care who he has to beat within an inch of their life so long as he can have his darling back in his arms.

There is an aftermath to all of these, once all the fighting has ended and the battle's won. Once Joseph has finally claimed his prize. There's a certain way his darling has to act. She’s got to smile and play the role of the dotting little sister once more. Just so Joseph can justify his actions...

"And your next line is, 'I love you more than anything else big brother Joseph!'...at least I wish it was."

⭐Jotaro Kujo is cold and sadistic.⭐

Never learned how to love...

A lover by Jotaro's book is nothing more than a walking, talking doll. Someone who cooks meals, irons clothes, and kisses him on the cheek before he leaves for the day. Sure they have other uses, in flares of passionate moments, they're something to hold onto, another pair of limbs to get tangled in. Something hot and solid, someone to push down, to weigh his force on.

That's it, that's all there is to it...

A lover and a convenient toy are one of the same.

He knows it's wrong to think about someone that way. To deprive a living thing of all their thoughts and feelings just so it's suitable for him. But at the end of the day who wants to hear idle chatter and gossip or go outside for walks in crowded areas. All too social, it's all so troublesome. All Jotaro wants is a closed-off life, away from the scums of the earth...away from people in general.

It's such an inconvenience to seek out a lover, to hassle through dates and meetups in hopes of finding someone that clicks. Jojo would even go so far as to call it wishful thinking. So it has to be a pure accident that he even meets his darling. They're just someone who gets tangled in with the crusaders. A perfect living perception of 'wrong place, wrong time'. Someone who's life gets blown to bits and shambles just because fate decided to play a cruel joke on them.

And that's what piqued Jotaro's interest. The desperate, depleted look of pain cemented over their face. The sparse dying gleam of determination that blazes within their eyes. Oh, what Jotaro wouldn't do to snuff that little ray of hope. To watch as what little purpose they have is ripped from their arms. What he wouldn't do to see them in pain...

Pain is submission, that's really all Jojo wants. A darling submits, not out of their own free will, but because every little thing they've ever loved has been slaughtered, all that they cherished has been stolen from them.

But it's not enough

It's never enough

Although Jotaro adores the looks of anguish that decorates his lover's face. There's something more satisfying about maltreating them. About leaving marks all over, about leaving bruises that never lose their violet glow. He's claiming his darling, physically and mentally. Not a single day goes that Jotaro doesn't remind his lover who they belong to. From verbal taunts that plague his darling's mind day and night, to punches that break bones leaving them paralyzed on the floor begging for help, to cuts that are just a little too deep to ever heal properly.

Even when his darling is behaving, even when the poor little thing does everything her lover tells her to do, there's still going to be some sort of violence directed at her. Some backhanded remark about how useless they are just because they couldn't follow his mother's recipe. Some sort of blow just for greeting him 'too late'. Trivial things morph into punishments, just for Jotaro's sick amusement.

At his core, Jotaro is an unresponsive man, one with no regard for how others feel. He's distant, it's a trait he can't change. He likes how he does things, how there's no room for slip-ups when it's only him. Even his darling isn't someone he'd consider opening up to. Their opinion of him doesn't matter and their feelings are irrelevant. Most days he's gone until the last possible moment, leaving his darling an endless amount of time to mull over every word and scar.

But here's the catch.

As the clock ticks by, as the nights and days begin to merge into an endless existence, as all hope burns in the pits of hell, darling's mind is also going to stray. Ever so slowly losing its perception of reality.

'Maybe' spiders begin to spin webs of doubt through darling's empty cranium. The isolation begins to bite at her skin like the razor-sharp fangs of frostbite. They start to crave Jotaro's harsh touches, they start to miss the venom-like words. Every insult and slap to the face is welcomed, all the misplaced anger and death threats start to feel like sweet kisses and flowery touches.

Poor darling no longer sees big scary Jotaro as a monster. They've lost the ability to see him for what he truly is.

And what happens when Jotaro does finally come home? Oh, how little (y/n) will ravish in the gut kicks and loathsome words. How she'll take every beating with a sweet sugar-coated smile.

Cause this is her life now. A meaningless existence that revolves around Jotaro and his bleak personality. A life that's only worth living when Jotaro is around.

Is it even a life?

"Yare yare daze you're such a hassle, be glad I keep you around...”

⭐Josuke is obsessive with delusional tendencies.⭐

Maybe I'm the one you'll fall in love with next...

Just like his "father" Joseph, Josuke is stuck in a perpetual state between diaphanous and phantasm.

There's something all too wrong with Morioh nowadays. The narrow streets and verbose buildings have started to feel like a transparent cage. The town has always been small, barely reaching a population of 3,000 despite all the new families that keep moving in.

Nevertheless, everything has dulled, faded, and withered into a monochrome collage. The layers of repetitiveness had finally begun to pick at Joskue's nerves...

And yet somehow, by some diabolical twist of fate. In the mists of the oceans of familiarity, Josuke’s eyes grab onto some shimmering pearl lounged into between the crowd of familiar faces.

Sure he's seen this girl before, but he's never actually seen her. Never stopped to look at the odd way their eyes twinkle like newborn stars or how their skin shimmers with the glow of a thousand suns.

One second is all it took, a fleeting compliment as you passed by Jojo in the peppermint flavored afternoon. Your hair flowing like a tapestry of the galaxy as you disappeared in the crowd of dead pulsars. Not a care in the world, not for him, not for anyone.

Destiny was definitely up to its old cruel tricks again.

He's not stalking. Josuke will swear on his grandfather's grave that he'd never "stalk" a harmless little girl, like some distorted maniac. He just happens to bump into you at the beauty parlor when he's picking up a new brand of hairspray. And it's totally an accident when he meets you out in the abandoned fields! Honest! It's not his fault fate wants the two of you to keep meeting, it's not his fault that you guys are meant to be!

It's not technically a friendship that you two start to build up, it's far from one. Friends don't dream about sugar-filled kisses behind school walls. Or about ice cream that tastes like scandalous touches and candy induced moans. No, Joskue isn't your friend, he NEVER wanted to be your friend. He knows that! He knows what he wants...but with each passing day, he's beginning to doubt that you know that.

He'd never realized he's been so sensitive on you. So entranced by your out of tune voice that muttered rather than spoke. He's seldom been so eager to throw a punch and crack his knuckles on someone's skull, just for saying you looked "lovely today".

Whenever his eyes don't land on you, a rage-filled volcano bubbles in the pit of his gut, uncontrollable anger that festers inside of him, like lava waiting to spill out and burn anyone that wanders too close. His palms itch with the need to hold you, to feel your soft skin rubbing against his.

The jealousy is always there, pricking at his skin like rose thrones. Until they inevitably cut through his flesh and make him lose his composure. He's ready to kick and punch and hurt and kill anyone that comes too close to you, anyone that saunters off their orbit and makes a beeline for you, disturbing the balance of solitude that Josuke so eagerly sets you into.

Sometimes in the dead of night, when the world has finally dozed off, Joskue's mind begins to wonder. He thinks the way he feels about you is the same way an addict feels about his drugs. Maybe to him, you're even more addicting than heroin and ecstasy...and yet he can't quit you, he just doesn't want to quit you. Nothing in this world could compare to your sweet voice that tickles his ear when you lean in, to whisper a secret, or the may your full lips move when you throw another honey-filled insult at him.

He prefers when you're alone when he's the only one you talk to.

Sure there are exceptions like everything in life, although in the end

there's a sort of backhanded irony.

It's those exceptions that are going to hurt him in the.

Josuke trusts his friends, he knows that Okuyasu and Koichi would never do anything to hurt him...

But you're not on that list and to be fair you're surely the only one who can truly hurt him.

You fall for a friend of his. Not him, not the boy that's been driving himself insane just to earn a smile from you, not the boy that let you get away with insulting his hair and poking insults at his look, not him never him, it just can't be him.

"You're like an older brother to me"...Did you wash your mouth with acid before you spat those words at him? Did you intend to lace your words with knives and blades and rubbing alcohol before you stabbed him? It's figurative, sure. But it might as well be literal. No pain, no cut, no punch from any stand would ever hurt so much! You really don't know what you do to him, do you?

"I'm happy for you," it's a lie, blank and simple. Automatic words that he's practiced in the mirror a thousand and one times. He'd rather watch you suffocate on your own blood than in the arms of another man. He'd rather break every bone in your body than watch you kiss one of his friends.

How on earth had he ever come to love you? Someone as cruel and cold. Were you even human? You resembled some ice stand more than a flesh and blood person. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM.

He really hadn't meant for it to become an addiction, he hadn't meant to get all so used to the crunch of bones beneath his foot, and the bloodied lips quivering, shuttering out apologizes for having the gall to utter your name in his presence. But there's only so much a teenage boy can take, only so much torture that he can bury inside with a moonlight smile.

Addictions really do funny things to semi-sane people, huh?

It's a split-second decision, done in the heat of an all so regular moment. It's just a simple half-hearted punch when you beat him at another videogame. Then another

And another

Then a crack, another and another, and before either of you knew it you're on the floor screaming out in pure agony.

Josuke vows he's not being cruel when he breaks your bones so delicately. He can justify every crack, every fracture. Although it's rather repetitive and in certain cases borderline petty.

Five broken bones on your left leg just for "kissing" your new boyfriend. Your right leg is bent at an angle you're sure it's not meant to be. All because you hugged said new lover before going to class.

Josuke's once liquidy blue eyes that held the softness of clouds have been dulled over by a sort of thick mania. His once soft touch is nothing but nails digging into already bruised tissue. His lips wobbling as stray tears flow past his eyes. Muttering apologies and stuttering curses at both you and himself.

It's not really like his darling can leave after that incident. Josuke is known around town as the boy with a diamond heart. There's no way in hell anyone will believe what he did to you. It's just better, safer, to stick close to him, to swallow the indignities and paint a loving smile over your face when you gaze into his depraved eyes.

It's better to pretend to love him, rather than have another limb broken...

"Come on (Y/N), it's just a little crack. If you promise to give me a tiny kiss I'll let Crazy Diamond fix you right up."

⭐Giorno Giovanna is sneaky and manipulative. ⭐

Sono pazzo di te. Sei la cosa più bella che mi sia mai capitata...

There's a sleekness to Giorno, a cunning that's hidden behind layers of charisma and charm mimicking that of his birth father's. It's so easy for him to fool his darling into believing that he's a charming prince from a storybook. He's the good guy trying all so damn hard to make his dream a reality. He's admirable, he's noble, he's Giorno Giovana, the golden boy.

It's not like he ever intends to hurt his darling. He'd never dream of laying a hand on them, he's all too familiar with the wounds that come from endless beatings. The bruises and phantom pains, that get worse as the days slip by. He knows real pain, and unlike all so many others on both sides of his family, Giorno doesn't want his lover to experience an uncia of it.

He'd never repeat what his stepfather and mother did to him. He's going to try and do everything he can to make sure that his darling is safe...

Because isn't that what's important? To make sure the one you love is safe. To make sure they don't get swept off their feet by some masquerading drunkard or taken advantage of by some fanciful sadist.

Giorno will do anything to keep his darling safe, even if it means tampering with their mind a little. Nothing too serious, he'd never even considered changing anything about them. Although isolating them isn't completely off the table and a few verbal threats are fine from time to time. Just for precaution...

Giorno is a rather determined boy, he'll go to any lengths to isolate his lover. Scaring away friends by letting Gold Experience give them a small out of body experience. If they're persistent then he can't guarantee that that out-of-body experience will simply remain an experience much longer. It's not out of malice, but it's what must be done for the sake of his darling, the only other thing he cares about.

There's a shift, a difference between the young naive Giorno Giovanna, the golden boy with starry eyes, and the new boss of Passione, the Mafioso who holds the whole country in the palm of his hand.

Oh sure, as a simple Soldato Giorno was dangerous in his own right. But Don Giorno? He's the sort of monster written about in the grimmest fairy tales. Wearing the appearance of a true king but underneath the luxury suits and priceless watches, he's just another greedy, fire-breathing dragon.

As the Don of Italy's most influential gang, Giorno's manipulation tactics have gotten rather ....hazardous. He doesn't have time to waste getting rid of every single person that poses a threat to his darling. If someone looks their way, he'll send some goons to take care of them.

Although it's so much easier to keep his lover locked away, he even has the perfect excuse now. He's the head of the mafia, he has all so many enemies who jump at the opportunity to hurt him in some way. So he has to keep his defenseless little lover locked away in some mansion that's all so far away.

He's also a bit more violent now. Giorno's more physical, ready to break a bone just for a wrong word or a cracked jaw from a punch for even asking to go outside. He blames it on the stress of running an organization...although it's more likely that all the power from passion has begun to rinse away Giorno's caring side.

"Cuore mio, Resta con me per sempre"

⭐Jolyne Kujo is clingy and obsessive and delusional.⭐

I can't stay away from you...

Jolyne is a rather condescending yandere. Her rough ragged exterior does little to hide the clingy neediness that writhes inside her shattered heart.

She's soft, dependent, desperate at best. Wanting her darling to approve of every tiny trifling thing she does. Needing their words of praise and approving smiles to have the courage to live another day.

At times it seems like the only thing keeping Jojo alive is the "good girl!" and "I'm proud of you!" her darling throws her way. Chanting the words of praise with closed eyes and fluttering smiles of anxiety.

It's difficult to make her sweetheart realize how virulent this relationship is, far too hard to call Jolyne a Yandere. The derogatory term applies to someone who ceases all control from their lover, who locks them in a basement, and throws away the key. It applies to murders and

stalkers and lunatics that roam the streets in the dead of full moon nights. It applies to those who were thrown into Green Dolphin for a reason.

Not to some girl whose life has been demolished over and over and over again.

Not to the girl with a star birthmark that follows her darling around like a lost puppy in the freezing rain.

But even Jolyn has her limits. She's been let down time and time again, abandoned and framed by those she thought she loved unconditionally. From friends to boyfriends to even her own father, everyone leaves, they take what they want, and then they leave.

Flesh like strings, stitched into a web of antithesis and distraught moods, act as a solid, interchangeable reminder of who really holds the power in this relationship. Of how Jolyne can go from needing her darling to controlling her darling in just a fraction of a heartbeat. She loves them, she swears she does...but they need to stay close to her, they need to only think about her.

Her addiction gets worse as the days tick by. It's less romantic, less loving. Morphing into a dependency, a compulsion. Rotting thoughts of her darling suddenly leaving, plague her every waking moment. The once semi pleasant conversations between her lover and her friends, get cut off like a severed limb.

Even Hermes and Foo Fighters aren't "good enough" to be around Jolyne’s lover. She's all so, scared they'll try to take them from her. Stealing the ONLY good thing in her life.

There's a certain degree of control that Jolyne's willing to give to her darling. A sort of freedom to make, revolting appalling choices, so long as they include her. A freedom to boss her around and make her submit. Her darling is free, so long as that freedom revolves around Jolyne.

"(Y/N)~ don't look at them! You should only focus on me! I'm supposed to be your world!"

⭐Johnny Joestar is sadistic and manipulative.⭐

Arrogance disguised as affection...

It's all degradation, all harsh words that sting worse than bullet wounds. Glares from dull wicked blue eyes that might as well kill, cause it's better than the alternative. Smirks that make being alive so damn distasteful. Kisses that engrave the lingering taste of rotting lead into your tongue.

Johnny isn't sweet, he doesn't smile at his little sweetheart. He doesn't pat their head and kiss their temples while uttering sweet nothings into their blushing ear. No, his lover doesn't deserve a honey-coated life. They don't deserve to have what was stolen from him by his so-called "loved ones". Instead, he uses them as a living dart board, for both his acid-laced words and bullet-like fingernails.

There's no love when it comes to Jojo. He doesn't want to waste time on something so frivolous as a "significant other". But he does like having someone -or rather something- to play with, a form of entertainment that bends at his will. Not a pushover, not someone who's too proud either. But a living doll that can take a few verbal spats and survive an armada of fingernail bullets through the stomach.

Oh, sure he wants to break them, having a toy that's so conflicted, that questions their own sanity is so much more fun. But it's the intervals that count. Johnny wants to be the one to break his darling. To engrave the helpless look of distress into his memory. He wants to preserve every scream, every tear. That's the whole purpose of even keeping a darling.

Johnny rarely lets his darling out of his sight. It's so much easier to play with their mind if he's the only one they ever talk to. They'll become so easily dependent on him if he's their only companion. Although sometimes Gyro can get a little too touchy and friendly. And there will be occasions when Hot Pants start to pry into the darling and Jojo's personal life. But the incidents are few and far between. Not like Johnny minds, if anything these minor secondary "meetups" are useful to the paraplegic jockey. They refill his darling with the most precious thing..." Hope". Just so Johnny can beat it out of them all over again.

There's a darkness that resides deep within Johnny. A toxicity that laces his actions. His life is miserable and he's damn well sure it'll always be that way.....

So why not take his lover down with him?

"Don't you love me darlin' ? Cause I certainly don't love ya."

⭐Jorge Joestar is delusional and obsessive.⭐

What if we lost our minds, together?

A love story better than his parents, that's all Jorge wants. Flower field dates, and quick lingering kisses before midnight. Something sweet, that doesn't have a macabre end. A romance without body-snatching vampires and zombies that shed their flesh. Something normal, gentle, lovable.

Although with the family he's been born into and the kind of things that keep finding him. Jorge doubts he's ever going to get such a hopeful love life. He's all so desperate to carve a life for himself outside of his family's shadow, but in the end, it's simply eager wishing.

He's not exactly sure what he's even looking for in a lover. Someone sweet but strong-willed, an average answer. Someone who bears a sort of resemblance to Lisa Lisa. Not physically but rather mentally, he's not a coward, he swears he's not, but he just wants someone who can protect him. A fair exchange in his eyes. His lover will guard him against the bullies and freaks of the island and in turn, he'll protect them from the grim ghouls that run amok through the world. Although when push comes to shove he isn't sure if he'll really be 'protecting' his lover or running away and hiding somewhere with them.

He just wants to fall in love and not go insane, a reasonable request, if he hadn't seen the worst that the world has to offer. It's just wishful thinking, sweet dreams for a boy designed to attract trouble.

He doesn't want to have conversations with his dead lover's head. He doesn't want to wear their skin and waltz around town. He doesn't want any of that creepy, supernatural stuff that destroyed his parent's love.

He just wants normal. But as the years slip by Jorge's grip on "normal" slowly begins to decay.

Normal is something, but what that something is has become a blur. Normal isn't vampires and zombies and ghost clowns that throw nooses around people's necks...Yet on the other hand maybe it is?

He's so far gone that he can't even differentiate between methodical and irregular. His brain's capacity to understand the difference has gotten so altered and broken.

Once he finds his darling he does try to act like the ordinary people of the Canary Islands or England, depending on where he's residing at the time. He tries to follow the mode, just to impress his lover. It's a façade, a bloody masquerade that's bound to deteriorate once he and his lover have settled down.

Although a poetic, domestic life had always been Jorge's dream, he soon comes to learn that it just doesn't suit him. Jorge's paranoia starts to increase. It's comical at first, the way his eyes dart to closed doors, half expecting a killer to emerge. Although the same paranoid tendencies can become rather smothering at times. He's all so certain something is going to jump out of the shadows, some creature with sharp fangs and knife-like claws is going to rip his lover's body to rags.

He's gotten rather umbrageous now that he's the one who's married and living in the Joestar estate. His tendency to run away from any form of conflict has morphed into a rogue-like sense, much similar to a rabid dog barking at anyone who gets too close to its territory. He keeps his darling locked away inside, triple-checking the locks to make sure no one or thing can get in. He avoids the probing disquieting neighbors who still speak ill of his widowed mother and murmurs about the "curses" bestowed on the Joestar bloodline. Sometimes even getting physical when the insults shift towards him and his new lover.

Punches are thrown.

Insults exchanged.

And then the door and windows are locked once more.

Leaving both Jorge and his darling in the chilling company of the semi alive shadows.

It's safer in the basement. It has to be safer down there. After all his mother kept his father's severed head down there for decades before anyone found it. So it's only sensible that his lover will also be safe, tucked away in the darkness of a brick room some few meters under the earth. He's not acting like his mother -and deep down he prays that this isn't something his late father would ever even consider doing- It's a thin line of justification, but he can reason with himself so long as he knows it's not something his other family members have ever done. He does try to keep his darling comfortable down there. Buying them the most luxurious furniture and comfortable bedding. Constantly bringing them new forms of entertainment.

Keeping them in this preserved state is what any reasonable person would do. Not just another insanity driven Joestar.

"It's for your own safety" he's repeated that phrase an umpteenth amount of times, although every time the sculpted words leave his tongue, Jorge becomes less sure of who he's really trying to convince.

Jorge is all so sure that he's doing all of this for both his lover's safety and to erase whatever misfortune follows around the Joestars, like an airy plague. Even his enrolling for the great war is done with this mindset...

Even though in the end it's also this mindset that gets him killed. Leaving his darling a wide window to freedom.

"Darling, what do you think when you look at me?"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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chrisevansszn · 3 years

Text

A Quick Fling. 🥵

2k word!

18 & up only!

Short story!

Tonight, a group of you and your coworkers are going out to a bar. A group of about eight for a fun night out.

It was a local bar in Boston called “Drink”. You put on a cute black dress and some Gold YSL Opyum pumps. You arrived at the bar around 9:30PM, and the crew was already there. Devin booked a corner in the VIP sections so you all could hang out and chat with no problem. You walked to the section and everyone seemed to be staring at you. Probably because you rarely wear a dress and heels.

“Hi everyone”, you said walking up.

The crew consisted of Devin, Jordan, Michael, Jesi, Matt, Jake, Christina, and Chris. You all have been working as detectives for many years together. You all are practically family.

“Ok Y/N. I see you!”, Matt hollers out.

“Matt cut it out please!”, you blushed so hard, but you were seriously wearing that dress. It was hugging every curve on your body.

Your section came with its own waitress, so you ordered a vodka and cranberry. You found a spot between Jesi and Chris. You chatted up with both until your drink came. It was strong just like you wanted.

“Y/N I don’t think I have ever seen you in a dress since working with you for five years.”, Chris says.

“I know. I am honestly not a dress girl, but I figured I would throw one on.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thank you, Chris.”. You smiled at him.

The conversation turned into work and included everyone. Cases, unsolved murders, the whole nine. The waitress brought over a round of shots for everyone. Everyone then decided to go to the dance floor. The music is good, and everyone is gathered around dancing. You noticed how good Chris is looking in his flannel shirt. You make your way a little closer to dance next to him.

You finished your drink mid dance and decided to go to the bar to get another.

“Can I have Cosmo please?” The bar tender nodded.

“Hi beautiful.”

You looked over and saw a strange man next to you. Way older and not your type. You smile and give a dry hello. He continues to talk to you and you really are trying to ignore him. Come on bartender!

“Are you single beautiful?”

“No, I’m not. I actually have a boyfriend.”

“Well, where is he then? Leaving you here all alone.”

“I’m right here.”

You turn around and see Chris.

“Yep. Here is my man.” You fake smile again. Chris sits on the seat next to you. The man gives you and Chris the side eye. He isn’t buying it. You turn to face Chris and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Chris gives you a smile. He is trying to keep from laughing.

“Baby did you order another drink yet?” You ask.

“No, I didn’t. I can’t stop admiring you in this dress.”

Chris grabs you by the waist and brings you closer in between his legs. What the fuck is he doing?

“Not in front of everyone Chris.” You give him and look and pull away a little.

The man next to you is still staring. Chris laughs. Chris turns quickly and orders him another drink and he turns back around facing you. The eye contact you both are making is nothing like you two have ever done before.

You have to play the role. You step back between Chris’ legs and lean in. He grabs you again and takes you in his arms. You both sing the song that is playing to each other and catching a vibe. You lean in and give Chris a kiss on the lips and you feel him grab your right ass cheek and squeeze.

Now you’re doing too much sir! You like it….not going to lie.

The kiss wasn’t long but enough to make the man walk away. Chris didn’t let go either.

“You can let go now Chris.”

“What if I don’t want to.”

You paused…

“People will talk, and you know that.”

He giggled.

“I will let go this time.”

He releases you. You didn’t want him to. You both take your drinks back to the VIP section and sit. The rest came over shortly behind.

The group continued to drink and dance in the VIP section until the bar closed. Everyone was drunk off their ass and Uber’s were called. You went to the ladies’ room while everyone walked out. A few minutes later you walked out and saw Chris standing close to the exit.

“Chris did you call an Uber?”

“Oh yes, but I wanted to wait on you. I didn’t want you to be by yourself. You know?”

Damn. What a great man!

“Oh, thank you!”

“Feel free to join my Uber ride. We stay pretty close to either other.”

“Sure.”

You both walk outside and notice everyone else was already gone. Your Uber finally arrived. Chris opened the door for you, and you climbed in. He followed suit. The Uber pulled off. You wasted no time.

You leaned over.

“Why don’t I just go home with you instead?”

You rubbed your hand from Chris’ left knee up to his thigh, and then softly across his dick. It had been a while and some pipe is exactly what you needed.

Chris gave you THE LOOK. He took his middle finger into his mouth and licked it and turned and slid his finger up your vagina. You sighed softly. Oh…you are going to give Chris all of you tonight. He penetrated your folds and took everything for you not to moan. He then took his fingers from your vagina and leaned in a little closer. Chris then stuck the same finger in his mouth to taste your waterfalls never once breaking eye contact from you.

The Uber arrived at Chris’ place and you both hope out. He has a nice ass farmhouse on some acres. He grabs you by the hand and you both walk to his front door. You could hear a dog barking from behind the door. Chris unlocks the door and uses his leg to block his dog from running out.

“Dodger back.”, he says gently.

He pushes the door open and allows you to walk in first and then closes and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Dodger.”, you give him a gentle rub.

“Come on Bubba..bedtime.”

Dodger follows Chris down the hallway. Your guess is to another bedroom. You take off your heels in the hallway…fuck it. You could barely walk in them anymore. You see Chris coming back down the hallway.

“Do you want some water or- “

You instantly grab him and kiss those pink lips. He kisses you back so passionately and pushes you into the nearest wall. You grab his dick outside of his pants and you can feel it getting longer. Chris begins kissing you on your neck and lifts up your dress and grabs your ass and squeeze.

“That ass is perfect.” He says to you. He takes you by the hand and leads you into his bedroom. You push him down on his bed, and then unzip your dress as he watches you. He sticks his hands down his pants and begins to rub his dick. Your dress drops to the floor revealing your perfect breast and laced thong.

“Spin around for me sweetheart.”

You slowly turned so Chris could see every inch of your body. His are fixated on you, all of his attention is yours. You grab one ass cheek and squeeze it just for fun.

“Holy shit.”, you hear him whisper.

You walk over to him and softly kiss his lips. You move over to his cheek, down to his neck, and a quick lick on his right ear. You could hear his quiet moans. You unbutton his red and blue flannel revealing the muscle shirt underneath. His tattoos peeking out and is necklace hanging. A complete turn on. Chris takes off his flannel and muscle shirt revealing his body that is literally a canvas. Tattoos everywhere! Time to kiss them all. You push Chris back on the bed and climb on top.

You move slowly down kissing and licking each tattoo along the way. You unzip is pants and pulling out his long hard dick. He was ready for you, but first things first. You licked Chris’ dick from the bottom up to the tip. You can feel his hands in your hair and hear him take a deep breath. You take his entire dick in your mouth. Up and down, you got giving Chris that super sloppy 6000! You are giving him the two-hand action in the process.

Your puss is throbbing. You wanted penetration immediately. You slid off your thong and climb on top. You slowly sat down on that thick dick and threw your head back. It was everything you needed. Up and down, you went while Chris had one hand on your ass and the other holding your breast. You let out moans.

After some time, Chris grabs you by the waist and flips you over. Now he is on top. He completely comes out of his pants and underwear. He pulls you to the edge of the bed and enters your walls again. As he strokes, he leans over you and gently grabs you around your neck and slightly chokes you. THIS IS YOUR FAVORITE! You’re are literally nose to nose with each other. You stick out your tongue and gently lick the outside of his lips. He giggled.

He then takes his dick out of you and begins to devour you like no one else had. His cooch eating game CANNOT be touched. While he’s eating your soul, he then sticks two fingers inside of you. Your back arches.

“Y/N you taste so fucking good.”

He then flips you over and pulls you up on all fours. He teases you with just the tip in and out, in and out.

“Chris give me your dick now.”

“Say no more baby.”

He rams his dick in your puss from behind and lets out a few moans. Faster and faster, he goes and harder and harder. Your mouth is stuck open and your eyes roll back. Chris continues to fuck you in different positions: on your back, from the side, on your stomach. Who knew he would be able to go so long!

You finally heard him say. “I’m fucking about to nut.”

He groans but not too loud, and you orgasm at the same time. He lays next to you and kisses your shoulder. Chris’ dick was so fucking good. You get up and go to his bathroom to clean up. You walk out and start putting your dress on.

“Wait, where are you going?”, Chris asked.

“Home.”, you say while grabbing your phone to order an Uber.

“Why don’t you just stay for the night?”

“That’s how people catch feelings. This is a business transaction.”

Chris busts out laughing.

“If you say so Y/N.”

He walks up to you and kisses your neck.

“Come to the kitchen with me, so I can get you a bottle of water. We drank a lot tonight.”

You all did. You didn’t even both putting on your heels because you could barely walk without them. You follow him to the kitchen, and he hands you a bottle of Fiji. You phone dings letting you know your Uber has arrived. Chris walked you outside and opened the car door.

“Text me when you make it home…please.”

“Of course. Goodnight Chris.”

“Goodnight Y/N”

He closes the door, and the Uber takes off. You left your panties behind.

Maybe he will call you up soon to come back and pick them up….

I hope you enjoyed! Follow for more! 💛

#chris evans #chris jamal evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #cevans #marvel #andy barber #defending jacob #captain america #stevenomad #fanfiction

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local-ground-apple · 3 years

Note

May I request scenarios of Diasomnia and Pomefiore taking care of their child s/o? Sort of similar to the one you did for when Silver, Rook, Kalim etc being turned into children ❤️❤️❤️

Hope you will enjoy it~! ❤️❤️❤️

🐲 Malleus thought nothing could surprise him anymore in his long life, yet when he saw your small form, he had to admit he hasn’t expect you to turn into a child anytime soon,

🐲 tries and will find a solution quicker than Crewel or Crowley,

🐲 at first, Malleus is lost. The whole situation is new to him and he doesn’t really know how he should take care of you or what he could be doing with you, until you get back to your normal form,

🐲 he did ask Lilia for help,

,,Y’N, what would you want to do?” ,,You’re a prince” “Yes, indeed” “Teach me how to dance”

🐲 Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, a bit taken aback with your sudden request, but soon a soft smile graced his lips. You were truly adorable as a child and he absolutely wouldn’t refuse you anything,

🐲 needless to say, you stomped on his feet a lot,

🐲he carries you on his shoulders almost all the time and you refuse to get down from them. You just wanted to touch his horns, but you really liked the feeling of being so tall and the view up there was truly amazing,

🦇 the only one who actually knows what he’s doing,

🦇 at first, Lilia gets a bit emotional, as all those fond memories he had created with Silver when he used to be a child flooded him. You two ended up looking at pictures from Silver’s childhood,

🦇 won’t stop cooing how adorable you are and he will certainly take a million of pictures much to your dismay (enough to create a whole album just with the photos from two days you spent as a child)

🦇 Lilia saw this a perfect opportunity to cook especially for you. Before this ancient fae burnt a whole kitchen down or accidentally poisoned you, Silver appeared with edible food and saved you from Lilia’s questionable dishes,

🦇 you had a lot of fun with Lilia, since you two organised a sleepover. Eating pizza, building a pillow fort, eating unhealthy ammounts of sweets, pranking Sebek - you truly had the best time of your life and you two even invited Malleus to join you (Silver fell asleep halfway through).

🦇 fun ended when you told a “spooky” story and Lilia being Lilia decided to pull some ancient, fae book with terrifying stories that made Silver suddenly more than awake,

🦇 needless to say, you, Silver, Malleus and even Sebek ended up sleeping all together in the pillow fort with Lilia that night, refusing to turn off the light,

⚔️ Silver refused to let you touch his sword. Actually he hides it before you, so you won’t get hurt by accident. He hides everything that is sharp,

,,No, Y/N, you’re not going to climb that horse” “But, we always go horse-riding on Tuesdays!” “Yes, when you’re an actual adult”

⚔️ so instead you decided to go to sleep,

⚔️ you both spend a lot of time napping together. Lilia often sees you two sleeping peacefully underneath a tree in the forest, while animals are all around Silver who has clovers in his hair (all thanks to you)

,,Can I braid your hair?” “...” “please?” *sigh* “Yes, sure”

⚔️ your braiding-hair skills certainly got better, even Vil would be impressed,

⚔️ when he’s asleep, you often sketch Silver trying to capture his beauty. Lilia finds your drawings purely adorable and he always coos how cute you are. Of course, Silver has no clue that you have a whole stash of drawing of him and you wish to keep it that way,

⚔️ Lilia of course offers his help, even if it mostly consists of him telling you all the embarrassing stories from Silver’s childhood

⚡ panics on the inside and on the outside. Can’t and won’t calm down anytime soon,

⚡Sebek hides any dangerous weapon from you and tries to babyproof the house as much as possible,

⚡tries to be quieter with you, as Sebek thinks children generally aren’t fond of loud sounds (oh how wrong was he). Somehow you managed to be louder than him, when you decided to throw a tantrum,

⚡takes you with him literally everywhere. May it be his sword training, actual classes or just his night patrol, Sebek refuses to leave you unattended,

⚡ you ask him to read you and he gladly complies. Sebek switches from actual history textbooks to some fairytales, but you don’t mind this duality. Just hearing his soft voice reading you something before sleep is more than enough to calm you and lull you,

⚡you often fall asleep in his lap,

💜a child, huh? Something truly unexpected. Vil is the first one to put his initial shock and disbelief aside and he immediately starts working on potion to turn you into adult again. He really wants to dedicate himself to it and at first Vil is engrossed in his work,

💜at first. Soon, you get rather bored and you begin to disturb him. Vil wanted to yeet you to Rook, he truly did, so he could focus on making a potion for you. Yet, after certain hunter told him for the umpteenth time that professor Crewel is taking care of it, he started considering taking a break,

💜your absolutely adorable puppy eyes finally convinced Vil to spend some time with you,

,,Can I style your hair?” “Absolutely no” “Please?” “I said no, but we can throw a small fashion show, hm?

💜 you two throw a small fashion show, but perhaps, a raid on Vil’s closet would be a more appropriate word. You tried a lot of his clothes and Vil taught you how to do poses,

💜 you two sneaked out to Heartslabyul to taste some strawberry tarts baked by Trey (even though Vil certainly was on a diet),

🏹 oh là, là. Room won’t shut up about how cute you are. He constantly coos how lovely you are. You quickly get tired of this bullshit,

,,Could you stop!” “My, my, mon lapin, tu est trop mignon~!”

🏹 Rook lets you style his hair,as well as wear his hat,

🏹takes you on his regular Leona-watching-from-the-bushes-event and you enjoy your new, stalkerish role perhaps a bit too much,

🏹Rook obviously refused to take you hunting, yet you followed him either way and you ended up convincing him not to kill a hare, but to adopt him,

🏹 Vil certainly wasn’t pleased when you showed up with a hare named “Five”

🏹 your puppy eyes and pouting face is enough to persuade Rook to do whatever you wish. Literally, he won’t be able to refuse you

🏹Vil told him not to give you any sweets, but one look of your puppy eyes and Rook is melting. He will sneakily give you chocolate when Mr.Schoenheit is not looking,

🍏 Epel has absolutely no clue how to take care of you. Absolutely, he’s just lost,

🍏 but he tries his best to keep you from dangerous, sharp things that may result in you hurting yourself,

,,I’m not a baby, I can slice the bread myself” “Y’N, you’re literally a child”

🍏 however, Epel let you help him bake some apple cookies and you two ended up having a flour fight (yes, you started it on purpose),

🍏 you two become partners in crime. Sneaking out at the evening to Savanaclaw, eating snacks past bedtime, violating practically every, single rule Vil imposed on you two and finally raiding Rook’s stash of sweets - there’s just plenty of things you both managed to do together,

🍏 Epel plays a loooooot of board games with you - literally every, single game he managed to find in Pomefiore, while you both sip on hot chocolate with marshmallows,

🍏 he is elated, when you turn to your original form. Sure, he had a lot of fun taking care of child version of you, yet he much more prefers your older self (mostly because he can finally kiss you)

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

Lil' Mia and Miranda thing since I dragged you guys down the rarepair hell with me~

---

Lab equipment was really not meant to blend well within a lived-in home. And it didn't. The plush carpet on top of wooden floors giving way to the smooth lab flooring that squeaked under boots not appropriate for the setting created an odd contrast. Not that that was uncharacteristic for Miranda, any of her workspaces falling perfectly under the description of an organized mess, with particular emphasis on mess.

With Rose sleeping peacefully in the room generously, suspiciously so, provided by Miranda, Mia decided to stretch her legs by walking around the manor, the baby monitor connected to her phone. The building was relatively big, albeit quite old, tucked in the woods somewhere between the Beneviento house and the factory, with a tunnel conveniently connecting it to the labs running under the town. It had close to no spatial organization, bedrooms and labs and storage rooms alternating by patterns known only by the so-called goddess, or most likely not even by her.

Mia did not trust the woman. Not with the memories of the prison cell and the kidnapping of her daughter for experiments still fresh in her mind. But, the tiredness of motherhood and the odd loneliness that came with being the only two inhabitants of the house that were capable of coherent speech as of now, had her longing for some company.

It was an easy task finding Miranda, the soft cries of Eva guiding her down a short hallway to a lab door left ajar. Inside, the woman was sat at a desk, a laptop with half written reports and notes in front of her, pushed out of the grasp of the fussing infant in her arms. Miranda was far too busy trying to calm her daughter down enough to fall asleep to notice Mia leaning on the doorframe, curiously observing the scene. Oddly human, in her failing attempt to get her child to stop crying, when at any given time she could get anyone to kneel before her and bend over backwards to her every whim. Yet a small infant was giving her so much trouble.

"Need a hand?" Mia offered with a small chuckle. Should she even offer her help?

"I am fine thank you." But a slightly louder wail from Eva came with perfect timing to disprove her words.

Miranda's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly as her eyes closed slowly, the usual makeup replaced by dark circles, testimony to the long hours spent going through decades of research and reports while also caring for her newly reborn daughter. It was oddly bittersweet, to see a woman so dignified otherwise all but beg the small child to go to sleep so she could finish her work.

Work, Mia concluded, that was rather essential for the whole place, and also her home for now, to continue existing the way it was. With a sigh she walked up to the desk and gently stoked Eva's short brunette hair. "Here, let me hold her. At least until you finish typing whatever it is you're doing," she said waving a hand in the direction of the forgotten computer, who's screen had turned black by now.

There were a few long seconds of hesitation, but a weary glance at the mountain of files on the other side of the desk that she was yet to go through convinced Miranda to finally allow her daughter slip into Mia's arms. It took maybe five minutes of cooing and a one sided conversation made in silly voices to turn the cries into giggles, small hands trying to grasp at Mia's finger that was ticklishly caressing puffy cheeks. Exhausted from crying, Eva's eyes slowly fluttered shut and she was gingerly lowered into a crib set by the desk, one of the many scattered around the house.

Miranda watched the scene unfold with uncharacteristic softness slipping by the icy mask of her steely eyes. Even goddesses can be caught by surprise it seemed, and whether it was due to the apparent skills that Mia had with calming Eva down or at how she was willing to help despite their precarious position was up to debate.

"Shouldn't you be better at this," Mia asked, pulling one of the chairs closer to sit in. "I know it's been, what, two or three centuries or something but haven't you done this before?"

Her question was obviously poking fun for the most part, but Miranda couldn't help the tired sigh that crawled its way from the depths of her now useless lungs.

"No, actually. I haven't," she responded curtly as she grabbed one of the files and opened it in order to transcribe its contents in a digital file. "At least not on my own," she added upon remembering the numerous subjects she helped raise during her time working with The Connections.

"Oh? Did you have a sweet loving husband once upon a time? Do tell me more," Mia said leaning her chin on her palms as if she were a teenager at a sleepover talking about crushes, although the memory of Ethan clawing its way to the forefront of her thoughts made her grimace slightly, until she pushed it back down in the depths of her mind.

It was foolish perhaps, acting like that around a woman that could, and would with the right motivation, kill her in the blink of an eye. Truth be told though, Mia was bored out of her mind, so what better way to pass the time than push Miranda's buttons, especially when she seemed too tired to retaliate.

The so-called goddess grimaced, at least ten different reasons to find the thought outrageous flashing through her mind and, settling on the most obvious one, looked at her, one eyebrow raised. "I was a nun."

Mia leaned back in her chair, looking at the black head covering hanging from a hook behind the door, together with black robes. She had to wonder if they were the same ancient ones or if she replaced them every once in a while.

"Yeah, I couldn't tell," she chuckled. "A nun turned goddess. How ironic don't you think."

"Worshipping was never quite up my alley. And neither were men," she replied flatly, turning the pages in front of her and typing the relevant information in the file she had open on the screen.

Mia's eyes widened slightly with an amused oh. "So was she raised by the convent then?"

Was this information really to be given out? Mirada did not like talking about her past, or personal information in general. Gods did not need backstories, they simply were.

She sighed. "No, no. Her parents died when she was four and with nobody else to look for her, she was brought to us." Miranda gave a small shrug, pausing to type up decades old results on lycans. "I was the newest there, so the nuns dumped her on me. I was so mad at first, but she's always been such a brilliant little girl, even back then. She would ask for a bedtime story and did not complain when I'd start reading from one of the medical books I stole from the merchant. There was just something about her that made her grow on me."

With the paragraph done, she pushed her chair back, quietly so as to not have its legs scratch against the linoleum floor, and walked to another, smaller desk pushed against a wall. From there, she walked back to the crib where the small infant was sleeping peacefully, a small doll in hand. Doll that Mia recognized immediately, as an identical one was by her own daughter's sleeping form, back in their room. It was a small replica of Angie, plush and soft to the touch, unlike its real life wooden counterpart, the white dress made of delicate silk. Both toys had been made by Donna herself as gifts.

"But as you can guess, she was well past a toddler when she was placed in my care," Miranda finished, leaving the doll just by her sleeping daughter's side.

"So you suck with babies," Mia concluded with a grin. She would have laughed, but had enough clarity of mind to be quiet.

Miranda simply gave her a tired glare before rolling her eyes. She went back to her desk and opened a new file to be transcribed, this one on the reservoir's structure.

"I can care for them," she started, an odd almost imperceptible strain in her voice. "It just gets trickier when it's my own daughter and not an act."

Mia nodded absent mindedly, eyes darting to Eva. To see a woman with such power and ruthlessness, who could level the whole town to the ground if she so pleased, show such raw genuine affection towards the child made some of the notions in her brain crumble to the ground. Miranda was still the same woman who, ironically enough, experimented on more children than she cared to count, but then again Mia was also a willing participant in said experiments so was she really that much better?

She definitely was, Mia concluded, choosing to ignore a small pang at her heart when she watched all the ice in those gray eyes melt into tenderness while looking at her daughter. Instead, she started toying with one of the many pens scattered on the desk.

"Since I'm staying here, I don't mind helping you out with her," Mia said quietly, keeping her eyes on the small giraffe doodle she was doing on a napkin.

It wasn't for Miranda's sake really. She simply wanted the best for Eva, the child completely innocent unlike the atrocities committed by her mother throughout the last few centuries. Besides, it would be nice for Rose to have a friend not unlike herself, given the yet to be understood power both girls possessed.

"There's no need-"

"Consider it a thank you for letting us stay here, without a sniper pointing at my daughter's head at all times," Mia finished, a slither of ire slipping into her tone on the last words, the memory of a rookie agent panicking and pointing his gun to Rose for the unforgivable crime of being a hungry crying child seared behind her eyelids.

Miranda sighed, an odd sense of relief washing over her. After centuries of trying to bring her back, you'd think the she would do anything to spend each and every second with Eva, not letting anyone else care for her in any capacity, but truth be told, the prospect of not facing motherhood completely alone, even if Mia was helping her solely out of some sense of obligation, did not sound half bad.

"As you wish," she finally said, going back to the half written paragraph her mind drifted away from minutes earlier.

#mother miranda x mia #mia winters #fanfic #my art

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7wanderingpaws · 3 years

Text

Always, Yours (1)

(gif not mine) - fluff Baek ㅠ

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

AU: professor Baekhyun, domestic AU, family AU, triplet craze AU

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: none

This is a sequel to Simply, Yours! You do not need to read it first, but it will give you better understanding of the situation in the story.

Enjoy!

Masterlist / story masterlist

Next -->

<3 <3 <3

“Ta-da!” Sukyeong held out two coupons in front of your face, her excited smile not dazzling enough for you to mimic it. “Let's start working out!”

You were unsure right away for many reasons. First one was the squirming infants on you and on her. Juna was the eldest triplet but she had nothing on the middle one, Junhee, who was currently tapping away on the play mat made out of pastel coloured puzzles in front of the big couch in the spacious living room. Jun was the only boy triplet and the youngest. He was peacefully sitting on your lap, your palms flat on his cute baby tummy while he was looking up at Sukyeong with huge eyes that, the more he grew, the more they resembled his father's. The issue was, where would you put your munchkins while you'd be working out?

Second one was more personal and one that you felt guilty for thinking about, but you couldn't help it. Would you have enough energy to go through sixty minutes of work-out? You were still breastfeeding and pumping, by now completely accustomed to it. It made up a huge part of your day; if you didn't have the infants pressed to your breast, it was the pump attached to you, hidden under your shirt while you were running around the house, trying to get chores done while the babies would nap. Being exhausted was a given, but squeezing in more exhaustion? Doubtful.

Third one was the one that always gave you a slight headache. Travelling through busy Seoul was difficult to do by yourself with triplets. Despite living in a very good apartment at the moment, which was a kind present from the government as a thank you gift for bringing triplets to the aging society, it didn't mean your financial issues disappeared with it. Keeping up the apartment was a huge responsibility; the energies, the water, the common fees, lots of management with the apartments' committee that your husband became part of - it all required money and the lottery ticket you received and made you a billionaire quickly dispersed in your bank account. Another issue were the triplets themselves. Keeping up with them, buying diapers, clothes that they seemed to outgrow in a speed of light - it all required lots of income but there was only one source - Baekhyun, your husband.

As much as you always told him you would find a job to keep the financial stability, you could hardly find a time to sit down and go through job offers, let alone actually prepare for an interview. You knew many companies would refuse you if you as much as mentioned you were a mother.

“Oh, no, I can practically see the turning gears in your brain, mumma friend,” groaned Sukyeong and leaned in to press a loud kiss to Jun's face which in turn made him surprised. That surprise quickly morphed into a huge, toothless grin and you were fast to follow him, too. Jun was the weakest of the triplets and was prone to get more sick. He had a terrible season of harsh refluxes which made you and Baekhyun extremely worried and unhappy. Jun wouldn't be able to accept your milk, vomiting it out right after swallowing. His smiling face meant more to you than anything else in that moment.

“Auntie Sukyeong is being silly, hmm,” you cooed lovingly and you also leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head. He had dark baby hair growing, and it always made you realize just how fragile these babies were. “I don't know Sukyeong,” you finally answered her. “I would love to work on my body and gain back my old one but I just can't see it happening.”

She quickly held up her hand. “Before you get into all the details - they have a little baby corner where you can leave the munchkins while we work out! And-and I would come with you! We have a car with Chen, so I'd pick you up and then we don't have to worry about travelling in an over-packed bus.”

You pursed your lips, thinking. “What time is the training?”

“I think it starts at seven in the evening!” she exclaimed and quickly took out her phone to search. “It's lots of cardio and core strengthening so it's very beneficial for you!”

“Hmm, I would have to discuss with Baekhyun,” you murmured. “He comes home late these days but I just want to know his opinion.”

“Make sure you don't get squeezed down by your hubby,” Sukyeong noted and leaned down again to look at Jun. “I know you guys are basically inseparable but he's been working so much since he became a professor. Make sure you don't become second to him over his work.”

“Well, he is the youngest ever, so I understand he wants to try his best.” You wanted to question her words - Baekhyun never prioritized his work over you or your children. He was just about to be thirty and you were just in the middle of your twenties, you didn't think you would reach that kind of crisis in your relationship yet.

“Yeah, but he doesn't have to do the hapkido training in the evening, yet he decided to do it,” she reminded gently, and touched Jun's cheek, “so you can do just the same, right? You are always with the babies and spend lots of time by yourself. You deserve to have a little time dedicated to you and, of course, me!”

You smiled but it didn't quite reach your eyes. Sukyeong wasn't wrong but you knew Baekhyun was only trying to start off his professor career as good as he could. He upped his game as a cool professor by always wearing outstanding suits - dark red, striped, the list went on. He looked very, very handsome and it sometimes even pained you to let him go to school like that. He told you it was to make sure people remembered him in the department and for his students to think he was cool; a trust-worthy professor to whom they could always turn to; a cool professor with whom they could have a good workout session in the evening and try to defeat him in hapkido. It was all great, but his work brought you back a tired husband.

“Maybe you're right. I will talk to him tonight. When do the classes start?”

“Next week! Tuesday and Thursday! I think it's the perfect timing!”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed. Your best friend could always make you giggle when you needed it. “I'll talk to him and let you know, hm?” Just as you finished the sentence, you jumped to your feet, trying to prevent Junhee from climbing over the small coffee table. “Aren't you a little wild girl? You must be after your father,” you breathed and Sukyeong laughed.

Baekhyun returned to a quiet apartment that evening. It was past eight and it meant triplets must have been asleep by then. He felt guilty right away, because he missed their bedtime. It wasn't like it was set - they woke up enough times during the night for Baekhyun to be by their side, but he still wanted to be part of the evening routine like bathing them, being next to you when you fed them, changing their nappies and their clothes. It was all the little things, but he was missing out on them.

You were lying on the couch, your eyes closed, your arm over your eyes to block the light out.

He crouched next to you, taking your hand in his. “Honey, I'm home,” he murmured gently, watching you remove your arm and smiling down at him tiredly.

“Hey, baby. Let me heat up the dinner,” you said, sitting up right away, but Baekhyun stopped you from standing up.

“Sorry I came home late again,” he said guiltitly. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing it a few times while looking intently into your eyes.

“It's fine,” you sighed and cradled his cheek. He leaned into the touch and eventually pulled on your hand to move closer to him, which you did. He met you half-way, pressing his lips to yours. He prolonged the kiss by puckering his lips several times, making little kissy noises that made you pull away and smile widely. Baekhyun immediately grinned.

“How was your day, princess? You look very tired,” he noted, slight worry etched in his features.

You shook your head and pressed another kiss to his lips. “The usual, you know it. Sukyeong was over and we talked,” you told him, and you wanted to bring up the topic of you attending workout classes when he said:

“Good, good, I’m glad she kept you company. I am in charge of some doctoral students now, so I need to lecture them over the summer break, but otherwise I made it clear that I want a full summer holiday so I can be with you more,” he informed you and nuzzled your nose.

You sighed in content. “Do whatever you think is the best, Baekhyun,” you whispered, your breath hitting his lips. Your hand reached out and tucked on his tie. “I just want you to enjoy your work.”

“I know you do but you and the babies always come first. Always,” he emphasized and this time brought both of his hands up to your cheeks and kissed you again, more eagerly. “I missed you,” he murmured and dived back in, nibbling on your bottom lip.

Humming in pleasure, you shimmied yourself closer to the edge of the sofa so that Baekhyun was crouching between your legs, your hand untying his tie. “I always miss you,” you murmured between the kisses.

He kissed you one last time and smiled. “I don’t want dinner. Let’s just cuddle, hm?” He flickered his eyes up to yours, his thumb running over your cheek. “I had a light dinner in school anyway.”

You nodded. You felt like your body weighed another twenty kilograms so you didn’t take much to convince.

After all, finishing the day a little earlier with Baekhyun by your side in the bed was always the best way to wind off. You found yourself in his embrace under the sheets, his black shirt hiked up as your arm rested around his middle.

He smooched your temple. “Was Jun okay today?” he asked quietly into the darkness of the room.

Baekhyun had texted you many times during the day to double check on his son but he still had to ask to make sure nothing happened in the short time he wasn't in touch with you.

You looked up at him. “He was okay, thank god. I hope that reflux is finally over.”

“I hope so too,” he sighed and kissed you again. “It’s so heartbreaking to know he is struggling to receive food.”

Hiding your face in his neck, you pouted against it. Everything about babies was scary. Both of you got used to them and to the crazy lifestyle but anything that would go wrong would throw you off the boat. Jun always needed special attention. “It will be all fine, right?” you murmured against his skin and as a reply, he tightened his embrace around you.

“It must be. Jun is a healthy and sturdy boy just like me, hm?” he joked.

You breathed a small laugh. “Yes, you're absolutely right.” Pushing yourself up, Baekhyun's arm loosened and he looked at you with questioning eyes when you faced him. “Actually, I wanted to ask you - Sukyeong has a coupon for these workout classes. They start next week at 7pm. I'd be away on Tuesday and Thursday for a couple of hours. Would you mind if I go for it with her?”

Baekhyun's eyes kept flickering to your lips as you spoke and you felt your heart swell whenever he looked at you like that. He finally met your eyes and brought his hand up to brush your hair out of your face. “You should totally do it if you feel like it, sweetheart. It's your body and I know you don't get to move around much when you're at home a lot. What kind of workout is it?”

You pulled a thinking face. “She mentioned core strengthening and cardio.”

“That's very good. You should definitely work on those to keep your body strong,” he advised in a gentle tone. “But just know that if it will be too hard, you don't have to keep doing it, alright? Your body is perfect and as long as you're healthy, nothing else matters.”

Baekhyun always made sure to provide reassurance even when you didn't ask for it. You smiled widely and leaned in, hugging him. You were literally splattered all over him and he brought his leg over yours to accomodate you better. “Thank you.”

He hummed and kept playing with your hair that managed to grow quite a lot in the meantime. Even though it was falling out like crazy after giving birth and your hair brush gave you a heart attack whenever you made a single swipe with it, you didn't pay it much attention. Being so busy with the kids, you hardly took notice of how you actually looked.

“What about the munchkins? I'll try to make sure I'll be home early but if I can't make it where will you put them?” he asked again.

“Sukyeong said there is a baby corner where mothers can put their kids for the time being.”

“Is it three-month-old-baby safe though?”

“I will try to contact them to double-check, alright?”

He hummed again in reply.

“You trust me with them, right?”

His hand stopped brushing your hair. “What kind of question is that? Of course I trust you with them, baby,” he replied quickly. “You're their mother. If there is anyone who knows them well, it's you.” He paused and you snuggled yourself even closer, making Baekhyun chuckle. “But you know what?” He leaned into your ear. “You'll always be my baby. My little lady.”

His breath tickled you on the ear and you laughed, even his words tickling your heart. He laughed along and he rolled you over so that he was on top. He started dropping sweet butterfly kisses all over your face and you scrunched your eyes close, emotions of love, joy, contentment making you feel like a millionaire thanks to your husband.

“You don't have anything to reply to oppa?” teased Baekhyun and smooched you under your ear. “Tell oppa you love him.” Another kiss on your neck. “Tell oppa he is the best.”

You kept giggling. “Baekhyun c'mon! Stop!”

“Not until you say what I want to hear,” he refused with a cheeky smile, kissing your lips loudly.

You gasped when you felt his hand under your shirt, tickling you on your side. You squirmed under him, trying to suppress the laughter that was making your muscles hurt. He was being a big tease and you knew he wouldn't stop until he had it his way.

“Oppa, I love you,” you told him through laughter and he stopped tickling you right away, suddenly very attentive to your words, “oppa, you are the best,” you said breathlessly, reciprocating the eye contact. “I'm oppa's baby,” you added and felt your cheeks heat up.

Baekhyun observed you with a smile. “That's right,” he murmured eventually and leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “You're oppa's baby girl,” he said in a low tone, his lips moving against yours. He captured your lower lip in a slow, sensual manner that had your insides ignite with passion. You closed your eyes and followed his lead, his kiss purely there for the sake of showing you love rather than leading to something more.

It was only nine in the evening, but it was by far the nicest time you had in a while; your triplets sleeping, your husband home and only yours until work would steal him away from you, and he did his best to make you feel loved, appreciated, beautiful and wanted.

Morning came much earlier for you. Junhee was up at three which you found quite good since they slept ever since you put them to sleep the night before and therefore enabling you and Baekyhun to have some alone time.

Quickly grabbing the intercom so that Baekhyun wouldn't wake, you went to their room, the three baby cribs and a small dimmed light welcoming you. Junhee was crying, rolling in her place which was her new favourite pastime to do since she learned how to keep her back up and straight.

“Shh, shh, sweetie, don't cry.” You took her in your hands and rocked her in your arms while you checked the remaining two infants. Jun was wide awake, his eyes looking back at you with interest which you found funny, because he didn't make a single peep, while Juna was about to follow her younger sister, her small face already scrunching up at the sight of you.

Just when you were about to reach for her while you were balancing Junhee in your other arm, you felt a pair of familiar ones on your waist, stopping you. “Let me,” Baekhyun rasped into your ear, sleepily kissing your cheek. He walked up to Juna and brought her out of her crib, the baby looking tiny on his broad chest. She started to wail just in time, and you and Baekhyun exchanged looks that spoke volumes - you would be up for a while.

There was a small corner in their room with two rocking chairs that Baekhyun insisted on buying for feeding time. While you sat down in one, Baekhyun went out to heat up some breast milk you pumped earlier, so that Juna could feed.

You adjusted your shirt and within seconds Junhee attached her tiny mouth to your breast, her eyes closing in delight as she sucked on your milk. Smiling, you made yourself comfortable and closed your eyes too, sleep quickly chasing you down.

Baekhyun appeared next to you with a bottle that contained the heated up milk and had Juna eat. Just like Junhee, Juna closed her eyes as she diligently drank, making Baekhyun's features soften with affection. He had her lying on his thighs, her tiny feet resting against his stomach while he held up the bottle for her. Occasionally, her small hand would tap against Baekhyun's long fingers which you found endearing. His index finger was bigger than her whole hand. “Jun doesn't seem to be hungry,” he commented quietly as he looked at Junhee in your arms. “Did he eat last night?”

“Yeah, he ate well,” you replied in a low voice. “I think he just isn't a crybaby,” you said with a chuckle. “These two sisters keep pushing him aside all the time.”

Baekhyun looked down at Juna. “Well, they better not. You will have to take care of your younger siblings, miss Byun Juna,” he told his daughter in a cooing voice. “So you better be a good older sister.”

You shook your head at his words and he laughed, sending you a wink. “You should go and rest, babe,” you told him after a while, “you have to get up early.”

“I'm not leaving all the work to you. We are in this together, right?” he said just as he always did. That was his iconic sentence that always made you effectively shut up. He was right, and you shouldn't have been taking away his father duties, but you knew he had a lot of work. Eventually, he would be nearing his limit and you didn't want that.

“That's more like it,” Baekhyun commented when you didn't reply.

You only managed to smile, closing your eyes again. Despite getting used to this lifestyle, it still made you feel uncomfortable how the babies would bite down on your nipple or the small cramps you'd get in your abdomen while feeding. Also-

Wetness was what made you open your eyes to look at the unoccupied breast. Before you could say something, Baekhyun spoke up: “Should I bring Jun? Or the pump?” His worried eyes were looking at the leaking milk, your shirt quickly becoming drenched.

You sighed, feeling helpless. If some mothers weren't able to produce milk, you were the exact opposite. There were times where you had to let out milk even though you already fed, even though you already had enough milk in storage for later. It kept pouring out of you and you didn't have other choice but to release it. The entire family could easily feed off of you at that rate.

It would have been okay, but the pain of dried up milk in your breasts was something you were scared of, so making sure you could let the milk flow was important.

“Can you please bring me the pump?” you told your husband absent-mindedly and Baekhyun was fast to cooperate while keeping Juna in his arms so she wouldn't be disturbed.

And just like that, you stayed up till early morning until the triplets fell back asleep - you waited for Jun to be hungry, and finally lied down when Baekhyun was getting ready for work. He even made sure the babies' nappies were fresh.

With swollen eyes, you watched as he dressed into one of his striped suits, looking like a Burberry model. He turned to look at you as he buttoned up his white shirt, his hair smoothed back, revealing his forehead. “How are you feeling?” he asked you gently, walking over to your side.

You smiled. “I'm good, don't worry, babe. Your lunch box is in the fridge, don't forget it.”

“You didn't have to prepare it,” he clicked his tongue, “just make sure you eat your food, alright, sweetheart?”

Nodding, you sighed and Baekhyun turned to put on his cardigan. “I'll be off. I'll try to come home early, hm?”

“Okay,” you mumbled, bewitched at the sight of him. “Kiss me before you go, handsome professor Byun.”

He gave a half-smile and walked over to you, leaning down so his face was hovering above yours. “Of course I would kiss you before I go. I can't leave my precious princess without a kiss,” he whispered, making you smile amorously. He pressed a sweet kiss to your puckered lips, making sure to prolong it. “Rest, okay?”

You nodded. “Another one,” you demanded and Baekhyun laughed, though complied. “Mm, I'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too,” he sighed and pecked your forehead as a final kiss. “Text me, hm? I'll go say bye to the munchkins, too. Gotta go now,” he straightened up and gave you a smile before turning and leaving the bedroom.

You heard him shuffle around the apartment before he left for his long day at work.

Deciding to sleep until the babies would need you, you turned around and nuzzled your face into Baekhyun’s pillow, his gentle scent mixed with faint baby detergent pulling you into a fluffy cloud of dreams. That was Baekhyun to you.

A/N: Hi, welcome back to the first chapter. It will slowly all start to roll, but if you read Simply Yours, it is anything but drama after drama. Expect a similar concept too, hope you enjoyed the FAMILY in this chapter!

Thanks for reading!

Please try to comment! I appreacite likes, but a word or two never hurt! ^^

#baekhyung fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun scenario #exo fluff #exo fanfiction #byun baekhyun #baekhyun imagine #kpop fluff #kpop imagine #kpop fanfiction #baekhyun fic #baekhyun angst #baekhyun smut #Always Yours #mywritings

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sfb123 · 3 years

Text

Uncle Drake and the Royal Heir

You know how sometimes TV shows will do like a special episode that acts as a pilot for a spin off series? Yea, that’s what this is. I have a two story pilot with an option to pick it up as a series.

Since Uncle Drake seems to be such a superstar, I decided to dig into his relationship with Eleanor, in a little something I like to call...

The timing of finishing this first story couldn’t be better. Today just so happens to be the lovely @burnsoslow’s birthday, so I would like to dedicate today’s inaugural Uncle Drake story to her. Happy birthday, doll! Thanks for being so amazing. 💚💜

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: Uncle Drake x Eleanor (uncle/niece/friendship)

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Rating: G

Warning: Get your dentist on speed dial, there are some seriously cavity inducing levels of sweetness ahead.

Word Count: 1,565

Notes: I haven’t hung out with a 5 year old since my youngest cousin was 5, and she’s 26 now, so I had no idea what I was doing in writing Eleanor. Therefore, my sincerest thanks to @jessiembruno for pre-reading, and being a real life resource to help me get into the mind of a 5 year old. It was good to have a point of view that wasn’t just episodes of Full House (but I did do that too).

Tags: I used my Sapere Aude tag list, if you’d like to be removed (no hard feelings) or added (lots of soft feelings), just let me know!

“Alright baby girl, be good for Uncle Drake, I’ll see you when I get home.” Riley pulled Eleanor into a big hug and kissed her cheek as they parted.

“Love you mommy!”

“I love you too.” Riley stepped in front of Drake and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you so much for watching her Drake. I really really appreciate it.”

“Anytime Brooks, you know that.”

“Ever the marshmallow.” She grinned and pinched his cheek.

“All right, all right.” He swatted her hand away. “Would you just get out of here before I change my mind?”

“I’m going, jeeze.” Riley dropped down to Eleanor’s level and whispered not so quietly in her ear. “Give Uncle Drake extra tickles tonight, he’s feeling grumpy.” Eleanor grinned widely.

“Hey! I heard that!”

Riley put her hands up in mock surrender, and winked at her daughter before exiting the estate. Once she was gone, Drake turned to Eleanor. “Alright kiddo, dinner time. What are you thinking?”

“Mac and cheese!” Eleanor screamed, jumping up and down.

“Alright, but only if you help me cook.” He extended his arm, Eleanor placed her hand in his, and they walked into the kitchen.

Drake pulled a step stool out of the pantry, and set it up at the counter so that Eleanor could reach. He then went to gather the ingredients he needed to make their dinner while Eleanor set herself up at the counter. “Extra cheese please, Uncle Drake.”

“Extra cheese? What are you, a mouse?”

“I’m not a mouse. I’m Eleanor. I’m a princess!” She stood a little taller, and puffed out her chest.

“My apologies, your majesty. Extra cheese it is.” Drake bowed and went to the refrigerator to get more cheese.

Drake poured pasta into the boiling water and turned back to Eleanor. “You remember the rule about stoves, right?”

“Stoves are hot, no touching.”

Drake held up his hand, and Eleanor slapped hers against it, giving him a high five. “Nailed it.”

They continued to make their dinner, working together. Drake helped Eleanor add ingredients to ensure that they got most of it into the casserole, not on the counter. Once everything was mixed together, Drake took the casserole dish and placed it in the oven, setting a timer and stepping back to the counter where Eleanor was standing. “Alright kid, time to wash those messy hands.”

Eleanor got a gleam in her eyes and held her hands up in front of her, wiggling her fingers. “Messy hands.”

Drake chuckled, picking up a dish towel and approached the princess taking her hands in his and wiping them off. “Nice try, Eleanor. Keep those messy hands to yourself. We have to set up the table for dinner.”

“Uncle Drake?”

“Yes?”

“Can we have a picnic?” She looked at him with her father’s pleading eyes. The same eyes that convinced Drake to do all kinds of mischievous things with his best friend when they were boys. He couldn’t help but smile, he loved seeing little bits and pieces of his friends shine through in Eleanor. She really was the best of both of them, and would make a hell of a Queen someday.

“I don’t know, I’m not really a fan of being outside.” He said sarcastically.

Eleanor scrunched her face at him. “Nooooooo you love outside. Outside is your favorite!”

Drake guffawed as he helped Eleanor down from the step stool. “You caught me, I do love being outside. I guess I can’t trick you.”

“Nope, I’m too smart.” She smiled proudly.

Drake agreed to a picnic in the garden, and tasked Eleanor with finding blankets and pillows they could use while he got the food and dinnerware. Once they had everything packed and together, they walked hand in hand to the garden. He had Eleanor pick the spot where they would set up, and helped her lay out the blanket. They sat and ate, enjoying the extra cheesy macaroni and cheese that they had made together. After dinner, they packed everything up and returned to the kitchen, where they washed the dishes and put everything they used away where it belonged. Eleanor was being raised to take care of herself, instead of relying on the staff for everything, and Drake was more than happy to help enforce this when she was under his care, so she always helped him do everything, and they always cleaned up after themselves.

“Alright kid, what’s next on the agenda.”

Eleanor tapped her finger over her lips, she noticed her dad do that whenever she would ask him a question, so she figured that’s what you’re supposed to do when you think. “Hmmm...hide and seek. You go count.”

“You go count, what?” Drake put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, waiting for Elanor to say the magic word.

She paused for a minute, trying to think of what he was looking for from her. “You go count please.”

“There you go.” Drake turned his back and covered his eyes, slowly counting to twenty.

Eleanor ran through the corridors of the estate trying to find the perfect place to hide. She entered the throne room and her eyes went wide when she looked at her mother’s throne. She ran up to it, crawling underneath, making sure to place herself behind the footstool so that Drake would never find her.

Eleanor sat there in silence, she heard her uncle’s lumbering footsteps coming closer down the hallway. As the door to the throne room opened, Eleanor stifled a giggle. She was sure that she had found the best hiding spot in the entire estate.

“I know you’re in here, princess. I’m going to find you.” Drake stalked around the room, pushing curtains aside, and looking behind the planters. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small shoe poking out from underneath the throne. He silently slapped his hand against his forehead, chuckling to himself and shaking his head, quietly approaching his target. Once he reached her, he grabbed her ankle, gently pulling her out from under the throne and tickling her. “Ha ha! I found you. Better luck next time, kid.”

Eleanor was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe. Her legs were kicking wildly, tears flowing down her face. Drake finally relented and gave her a chance to catch her breath and calm down a little. “Alright, my turn to hide. How high are you counting to these days?”

“I can count all the way to twenty.” She placed her hands on her hips and stood tall.

“Alright hot shot, cover those eyes and get to counting.”

“Get to counting, what?” Eleanor raised an eyebrow, trying to mimic Drake’s actions from earlier.

He rolled his eyes, he was annoyed that he just got bested by a five year old. “Get to counting please.”

She nodded in approval and turned her back to Drake, covering her eyes. “One...two...three...four...five...eight...ten…seven...”

Drake laughed quietly while rushing through the estate looking for a hiding spot. He had no idea when she was going to hit twenty, so he had to work fast.

They continued to play for several more rounds. Eventually, Drake noticed that Eleanor had started to slow down, her eyes getting glossy. Then the yawn hit. “Ok, I think hide and seek is done for tonight. How about we head upstairs for bedtime?”

“No way, I’m not even a little tired…” she yawned again. “...we’re having way too much fun.” She rubbed her eyes.

“Tell you what, you come upstairs and get ready for bed now, and I think I may be able to find the time to read you a story or two.”

“Poky Little Puppy?” She looked up at him with excitement in her eyes.

“Yea, I think The Poky Little Puppy could potentially make an appearance, but we have to go get changed like right now.”

Eleanor ran up the stairs as fast as she could and stormed into her room. She grabbed the pajamas that her mother had laid out for her before she had left and immediately changed into them. As Drake entered, she stood before him with her hands outstretched...and her pajama top on backwards.

“Close, kiddo. Let me help you out there.” Drake helped her turn the top around, so she was dressed properly. “Alright, good to go. You grab the book, I’ll meet you in the chair.”

Eleanor grabbed ‘The Poky Little Puppy’ off of her bookshelf and brought it to Drake. He lifted her into his lap before taking the book from her hands. “Here, I’ll hold this side, and you hold that one. That means you’re in charge of turning the page, you think you can handle it?”

“I’ve got this Uncle Drake, don’t worry.”

He opened the book to the first page, cleared his throat, and began to read. “Five little puppies dug a hole under a fence…”

Drake continued reading the story, but suddenly, Eleanor realized that he stopped talking before he got to the part where Poky found the strawberry. She looked up at him to find he had fallen asleep. She gently patted him on his head and kissed his cheek. “That’s ok, we can finish it tomorrow. I think you’ll like the end.” She snuggled into his arms and closed her eyes. “Goodnight Uncle Drake, I love you.”

Tags: @txemrn @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @anjanettexcordonia @twinkleallnight @mile9213 @kittypryde-bipride @motorcitymademadame @kat-tia801 @bebepac @gkittylove99 @khoicesbyk @jessiembruno @queenrileyrose @athena-penrose @pixie88 @eadanga @choicesficwriterscreations @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @annarenee355 @burnsoslow @shewillreadyou @imturaxamara @gabesmommie1130 @cordoniaqueensworld

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oohnoniall · 3 years

Text

The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Five (Anastasia)

Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Escaping the palace had been the easy part. Nikolai had shown her all the secret pathways when they were children. They had played games with them. She'd always wanted to be the fairy while he was a pirate or some sort of scoundrel. She had remembered those childhood days fondly throughout her journey to Kribirsk. If she hadn't, she would have been forced to think about the pain in her feet and the fact that she had been foolish enough to not beg her father's permission.

At least then she would've had a carriage.

Upon reaching the city, she had paid handsomely for fresh clothes and lodging. She had bathed, scrubbing her skin raw, and dressed in a plain sky blue gown. She had attempted to plait her hair by herself, although it appeared messy and uneven. Anastasia had never known just how hopeless she was until she had gone days without a bath or her lady maids.

Nikolai would have been so disappointed in her.

She was fresh-faced when she came into the bar. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes took in every single person in the crowded bar. She had thought enough to keep her traveling cloak. There was no telling what any of the patrons would do if they discovered that the princess of Ravka stood before them.

Years of dancing and lessons in how a princess should behave made her elegant. Even in the dusty, dirty bar, she strode forward as though she was on the dance floor. Each of her movements timed to the waltz of her heartbeat. She knew that her gait alone would be cause for attention. What simple maiden walked as though the ground was a dance floor? What young woman acted as though the world should bow before her?

Anastasia had not been around enough women to know what the answer truly was.

She felt eyes on her the entire time she ordered her drink. Kvas like Nikolai had drank with her before he had gone. She had gagged and refused to ever touch any again. The smell still made her wish to gag, but she had to keep up some appearance. She took the glass from the barkeep, thanking him with a small smile. Anastasia then turned her attention to the rest of the patrons of the bar.

Most of them were her subjects. They looked hardened, as though life had done them no favors. They had lines along their features that she had not seen amongst the nobility. They looked as though dirt had encased them their entire lives. Her heart ached for them. Was there nothing that she could do? She didn't have the power to change things. That power lived with her brothers. She would never be Ravka's queen.

Her eyes landed on a small group in the corner of the bar. A boy with dark hair and a wild grin was playing with a revolver, his fingers fiddling on the hammer as though he was waiting for a reason to use it. A girl in deep, navy blue clothes sat beside him. Her features hidden by a hood and her body was nearly as still as the breath that had caught in Anastasia's throat.

At the head of their table sat the guard from the ball. His eyes scanned the room, landing on her. She wondered how many times those eyes had stopped someone in their place. He seemed sharper than he had that night. The angles of his face were made of glass and were likely to cut her if she touched them. He was far too handsome for his own good.

Without thought of her safety, Anastasia headed over to the three of them. She felt as though she was vibrating, excitement coursing through her veins as she neared the table. The man had lied to her. He had snuck into her home. She would find out why. That would be a good enough reason for the last-ditch effort for freedom.

"Mr. Vanzin," she lowered her hood as she spoke, keeping her back to the other patrons. "I've been looking for you."

An amused smile graced her features as she looked down at him. He played off the idea of being at ease, his spine straight and his eyes glancing at her as though she were nothing more than a mouse. But his hands told a different story. The black gloves he wore could not hide the way he tensed. His fingers clenched in a fist that she was certain he would not use on her. He wouldn't dare to create a scene.

"Your Highness," he sounded bored as he regarded her. Anastasia was uncomfortably reminded of most of the people in the palace. "Had I known you were serious about seeing each other again, I wouldn't have left so quickly."

The Zemeni boy offered her a chair beside him. She did not like the grin that stretched across his lips. It was as though he was one of the big cats her nanny had told her about at bedtime. She took the seat nonetheless. This would not be the first time that she had found herself in a den of lions. She dined with monsters each night. She had danced with several the night she had met Mr. Vanzin.

"I'm afraid that I was curious about you, Mr. Vanzin," she crossed her ankles, every bit the picture of a perfect princess. Rasmus would be getting a beautiful bride. "After all, it's not every day that one manages to break into the Little Palace. Nor when a guard lies directly to my face."

"I assure you," his gaze could have cut through ice, "nothing about that night was personal."

"How could it be?" Anastasia's eyes sparkled with amusement. It was like she was verbally sparring with Niki once more. He danced around the questions he didn't want to answer, made her feel as though she would go mad half the time. "You didn't even tell me your real name."

The air surrounding them seemed to grow thick with tension. The girl's hands had disappeared underneath the table while the boy was rubbing the handles of his revolvers. Anastasia would not allow them to frighten her. She would not be afraid and she would not back down.

"You're clever, Princess," his tone was filled with venom. "You should be careful. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Vanzin?"

"Only advice," he told her before he drank the glass of kvas that had been in front of him. His eyes were dark as he stared at her. Heat flooded her cheeks but she did not let it phase her.

Anastasia had been around princes and lordlings her entire life. She had been around beautiful men and around men who had assumed they were beautiful. She had never let them phase her. She would not let this conman get underneath her skin. Even if it did feel as though she were drowning when he looked at her like that.

"You'll forgive me if I don't take it," she said, praying to the Saints that the dim of the bar was hiding her heated face. "Now, why don't you tell me who you are?"

"So you can cart us off to a Ravkan prison?" It was a valid thought. Had she been any of the other members of her family, she more than likely would have called for help. But had she been anyone else in her family she wouldn't have had to run away from her future.

Nikolai got to be the scholar, Vasily the king. All Anastasia was good for was a high bride price and to be her father's favorite pawn. Her future had never been her own. It never would be.

"I assure you," she leaned forward, strands of her hair falling into her face. "I would not turn myself in just to give you up."

For a split second, his left eyebrow rose and an expression of confusion crossed his face. It was gone before Anastasia could blink. He wore his mask well. Almost as well as those in her court. Maybe he was like her. A royal running away from a future that did not exist.

"What do you mean?" The Zemeni boy piped up, his expression more confused than the other two. Although it was more amused than anything. "Turning yourself in just means you're in as much trouble as we are."

"It would appear that way, wouldn't it?" She glanced at him, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "My family plans to ship me to Fjerda on the eve of my birthday. I'll be wed to Prince Rasmus the week after," she knew they didn't need an explanation. Nor had they asked for one. However, she needed to say something. Needed to tell someone how angry she was about the entire thing.

Nikolai was gone. This band of criminals seemed to be the next best thing.

"You decided to leave your cushy palace and come after me as a result of your impending wedding?" His face remained impassive, something that she could not read. She hated that he wore the mask of a courtier. "I don't know if I'm impressed or insulted."

"I hope it's impressed," Anastasia kept her eyes on his, not daring to back down from the demon in front of her. "At least enough to allow me to know your name."

"It's Kaz," he did not tell her his surname. She supposed it did not matter in the long run. It wasn't as though she would be spending long with the man. He would more than likely give her up before she had a chance to find Nikolai. Before she had a chance to see the sea and feel the wind in her hair.

Anastasia wished for freedom. A caged bird sang a lonely song. The song in her heart wanted more than that. It wanted to be among the greats, among the waltzes that she had adored from childhood. She wanted to live her life as she chose. If only so she could spend every second of each day surrounded by the notes, feeling the melodies in her heart and the beats in her heart. It was not a dream that any of Ravka's nobility would have understood.

None but Nikolai.

"Kaz," his name felt rough on her tongue. The syllables were brutal and cutting. Just like the man in front of her. "Perhaps we could make a deal."

"What sort of deal would you offer?" His tone was indifferent but the spark in his eyes told her that he was at least intrigued.

"I want passage. My brother is attending university in Kerch. I wish to see him a final time before I leave. I will keep the guards off of your back," she said, keeping any passion or hope from her voice. Vasily had once told her that negotiating meant selling your soul. That having too much enthusiasm would give her opponent the upper hand. Maybe he'd had a point.

"We can avoid the guards without you, Princess," she hated the way he said it. Like it was an insult instead of her honorific.

"I can also offer payment," she said almost lazily. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her cloak, pulling out a ring that should not have been in her possession.

She tossed it onto the table. The emerald sparkled in the light, the face perfect in every way. The Lantsov Emerald had been the stuff of legend when she was younger. As she had grown up, she had realized that it was nothing more than just a pretty gem. One that her parents prized above all others, but a gem nonetheless.

It was supposed to go to Vasily's future bride, but Anastasia had found it unfair. She had stolen it from her mother's chest in the dead of night. Then, she had escaped using those secret passages. She had known the emerald would come in handy. Although she had assumed it would be used to prove she was the Princess of Ravka. Not payment.

Kaz looked at the emerald for a second before he looked back at her. "I'm listening."

"The Lantsov Emerald has been in my family for generations. It's Ravka's greatest treasure. I'm offering it to you for safe passage to and from Kerch. Also, protection while we're there. I'm willing to add three million kruge for you and your crew upon my safe return."

She doubted that her parents had that much money. Or that they would be willing to pay that much for their only daughter's safety. She was ruining their plans. But she didn't care. They would ship her off without her ever seeing Nikolai again. They would sell her before she had the chance to find herself.

Kaz looked at her, his gaze was unyielding and colder than the ice of Fjerda. She wondered if he had learned to be cold or if it had just come naturally to him. Was he a monster of a man? Or a man who had become a monster? There was a story there. Something that was hiding beyond his eyes, beyond the facade he painted on. The facade that she only hoped was a facade. She didn't know what she would have done had he admitted to it all being real.

"Do you expect any of this to be easy, Princess?" He questioned, watching her as though she held a dagger in her hand instead of a valuable emerald.

"No, quite the opposite actually." Anastasia was not an idiot. She knew they would have to cross the Fold, find passage on a ship, and prey to all the Saints that she was not followed by her parent's guards. She doubted they had even noticed her missing. The Sun Summoner disappeared at the perfect tie. She wouldn't have been able to slip away without the distraction.

"We'll have to wait for a skiff," Kaz sat up straighter, almost as if to intimidate her. She matched his posture, not daring to back down for a single second. "No one knows how long that might take. A ship to Kerch will be another question entirely."

"I assure you, Kaz," the name stabbed her throat, "I am prepared to stay as long as necessary. I will not go to Fjerda without seeing my brother."

"Your brother will not be easy to find. Do you know how many rich sons have been sent to university?"

"Nikolai will be quite easy for me to find." He didn't need to know that he would have an angry prince to deal with during all of this. Once Nikolai heard of her disappearance, he would be angry. He would claim she had no idea what she was doing. That she was being reckless and stubborn. That there had been no reason whatsoever for her to leave the safety of the palace. He would have told her that she was stupid for trusting a man who had broken into their home.

She would take every second of his tongue lashing. As long as it kept her from never seeing him again.

"I will have other business in Kerch," Kaz stated as he watched her. He was looking for any sign of weakness. She knew that he would try to betray her. He would see her as another piece on his chessboard. Just as everyone else had.

She was no longer willing to be a game piece.

"I'm quite aware of that," there was no reason for her to be the only job he'd take on. Even if she was offering more money than he'd probably ever see in his life. Money she did not know if she had. "Now, do we have a deal?"

He did not offer her his hand, unlike what she had seen other men do with her brothers. She didn't know if she was supposed to be offended by the slight or not. Surely it had more to do with how he felt about the deal than anything to do with her. That or her nails were in a worse state than she had previously realized.

"The deal is the deal, Princess." She wondered if she would ever hear anything else come from his lips. Would he call her by her honorific the entire time? Or would he loosen up? She didn't think it was important enough to complain about it. No matter how grating it was to hear him use it with nothing but venom in his tone.

Anastasia picked the ring up from the table, giving him a kind smile. "You'll get this once I've been returned to Ravka, safe and sound."

Kaz said nothing, just nodded his head as she stood from the table. At least he knew better than to fight her on when he would get his payment. It was probably for the benefit of her peace of mind. If she trusted him not to slit her throat, then maybe she would be less likely to put up a defense. She didn't know for sure.

"Enjoy your night," she told the three, giving them a curtsey. Her skirts flourished around her, almost making her wistful for a night of dancing underneath the stars. "I expect to see you here tomorrow."

"Of course," he nodded his head once, looking at his crew instead of her. She wondered if they thought she was all talk. Surely a princess would run from danger instead of towards it. She should have been trapped in her golden cage with her jewels and her grand piano that she was not allowed to touch. They would assure she'd change her mind before entering the Fold.

The look on his face told her everything that she needed to know. He may not have expected her to come after him, but he knew now to expect her to back out. To do anything other than what she had said. Surely he should have realized by now that Anastasia was a woman of her word. She'd found him. She'd stolen the greatest heirloom her family had and run away from home. She had done everything that no one would expect from her.

The same things they would expect from Nikolai.

The thought nearly blinded her as she stepped into the sunlight. Had she begun missing her brother so much that she had decided to act as though she were him? He would have told her that it was a waste of her own potential. He would blame himself for making her a mirror of him. It would be bad enough to have one of them roaming the streets of Ravka. They didn't need two.

But she knew that she was not like her brother. She didn't see the world as one big game that she had to win. She just wanted to dance, to feel the music filling her veins and speaking in it's beautiful secret language to her soul. She knew it was a silly wish, one that she would never truly get to experience. She'd have to marry a man she didn't love. She would have to dance only when it was appropriate. Anastasia would lock herself up for her country.

She just needed a chance to dance before she did so.

Kerch may have been known for it's criminal underbelly, but it was the only safe place for her. She would be far from whatever trouble the Sun Summoner was bringing. She would be able to find Nikolai. Anastasia would be able to yell at him for hours at a time for not writing her back as much as he should. She would be free for the first time in her life.

As long as she did not get her throat cut or held for a ransom it should be perfectly safe.

Anastasia headed back to her room. It was not safe to dawdle on street corners. She had no idea if her parents had discovered that she was missing. She had no idea if anyone would be out looking for her. Vasily wouldn't be. He had too much to do, too much to prepare for. The time for him to take the throne was almost upon them.

He had less time for his little sister than normal. She felt as though Nikolai had abandoned her. Perhaps this unwanted isolation had been the truth behind her desperate need to flee. Perhaps knowing that she was alone, and would be for the rest of her miserable life, had been what drove her to running as far as she could from the walls of her gilded cage.

She slipped up the creaky stairs, using the gentle creaks as though they were a melody. She craved music. Craved hearing the waltzes, the symphonies. She needed it as though it was oxygen. She needed to hear every beat, feel every note. Alas, her life would not go in that direction. She would sooner end up hidden behind blocks of ice than in a symphony hall. Especially after what she had done.

As the princess entered the room she had rented, she did not notice a figure standing silently in the corner.

She took off her cloak, tossing it down on a small chair in the corner of the room. Her back was to the silent woman, never once noticing her as she began to freshen up. The day was still long, the sun having only just hit the middle of the sky. She planned on actually doing something besides make shady deals in the back of a pub.

Anastasia lifted her face, water dripping from her eyelashes. She caught sight of the woman in the mirror, her spine instantly stiffening.

"Your Highness," her voice was soft as she stepped out from the shadows. "We've a lot to discuss."

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notanacousticsetcal · 4 years

Text

be home soon - calum hood

summary - loosely inspired by cals short instagram story cover of better be home soon by crowded house. being in a relationship with calum while he’s away on tour and when he finally comes home :)

warnings - a lot of missing each other but no real drama

word count - 1.7k

a/n - mostly just wrote this because i’ve been thinking about what it would be like a lot. self indulgent lmao

Your phone screen lit up with a goofy picture of Calum and Duke and you smiled, rinsing your hands before answering.

“Hi, baby,” you said softly. You could tell by his sleepy features that he’d had a long day.

“I could fall asleep to your voice.” His head fell back on the couch behind him and you laughed fondly.

“Are you tired? I can let you go if you need your sleep.” He sat up immediately and began shaking his head fiercely.

“No, no. I’ve waited all day to talk to you. I miss you.” He sounded like he was hurting. You frowned at the screen.

“I miss you, bubs. So much.”

He sighed. “This is really hard, huh?”

You smiled sadly and nodded. “Yeah, it is. Just counting down the days until I can see you again.” He stared at you for a moment and nodded.

“Me too, baby.” He laid back on a plushy blue pillow and got comfortable watching you. “Whatcha making?” He sounded like a little kid.

You laughed. “Fish tacos. I wanted to try something new from that cookbook Sierra bought me for Christmas.” You began slicing up your toppings as you waited for the fish in the oven.

Calum groaned from the other end. “I’m starving and that sounds really good.”

You smirked at the camera before pushing it back so he could see you as you worked. “Why don’t you go eat something, my love?”

“The pizza should be here in twenty minutes, just waiting on that.” You hummed in understanding and continued assembling your ingredients. “You look so cute. I wish I could hug you.”

You blushed a light pink and shook your head. “I would kill for a Calum hug right about now.”

He laughed, adjusting the rim of his bucket hat. “As long as it's not me, I’m cool with that.”

Calum continued to watch you put your dinner together while he waited on his pizza. The last leg of the tour was in America so his timezone wasn’t so different from yours. You weren’t sure exactly what state he was in at the moment.

“Alright, baby. My pizza’s here.” He frowned and gave you sad eyes at the realization that this would be the end of your call.

“My dinner’s ready too. I’ll let you go now.” You picked up your phone and held it close to make sure you could see his face before you said goodbye. You don’t really know why it was always so hard to hang up the phone but it felt like a stab in the chest every time you did.

“Okay, enjoy your food. It looks amazing.”

“Thanks, Cal. I’ll talk to you soon, alright?”

“Alright, baby. Goodnight.” “Bye, bubs.”

You hung up the phone and set it on the counter, gripping the edge with your left hand. You felt tears prick at your eyes and a familiar burning in your throat. It felt like every day without him he got pushed a little further away. Every day you didn’t get to kiss him was harder than the last. All you wanted was to wrap yourself up in his arms and stay there forever. It felt like every day you were just living to see him again. It sucked. Only one more month.

***

Calum was officially coming home from tour tomorrow. After 4 long months of agonizing pain and going to sleep alone every night, you would be in Calum’s arms again by midday tomorrow. You spent all day cleaning up the house and making sure that Calum didn’t have anything to worry about when he got home. He would just get to relax and settle back in.

Calum’s name popped up on your screen and you smiled. It was a phone call this time which was a little odd. At this time of night, Calum was normally done with the day and facetimed you.

You accepted, pushing your questions aside and feeling overcome with excitement at talking to your boyfriend.

“Hello?” You chirped happily.

“Hi, baby,” Calum said in his groggy bedtime voice. “What’re you up to?” You smiled, biting your lip at how adorable he sounded.

“I was just about to shower and then watch The Nightmare Before Christmas with Duke.” You ruffled the small dog's fur and gave him a kiss on the nose. It was the perfect mid-October night for a Halloween movie.

“How’s my little guy?” Calum asked.

“He’s good, just misses his pops.” You grabbed some pajamas from your drawer and tucked them under your arm.

“Tell him to hold on a little longer. I’ll give him as many cuddles as he wants tomorrow.” Cal laughs sleepily.

“And what about me? Don’t I get any cuddles?”

“Baby, I’m going to cuddle you until you’re so sick of me you never want to see my face again.”

You gasped. “Are you kidding me? That’s impossible.”

Calum laughed and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. “I can’t believe I’m gonna have you in my arms in a few hours.”

You blushed. “I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much.”

Calum sighed. “It's like I’ve been away from a piece of me for 4 months. I don’t know how I functioned without you.”

Your eyes began to well up with tears for the millionth time since Calum walked onto that plane and left you 4 months ago. You sniffled softly, trying not to let it be known that you were crying. But Calum picked up on it. He always does.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed. “No more tears. I’ll be home before you know it, my love.”

You exhaled the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I know, I know. I just… I love you a lot and sometimes my body doesn’t know how to handle it.”

The line crackled and you heard Calum laugh lightly. “I can’t think of one thing I’ve done in my life that was so good that somehow… the universe thought I deserved you… but damn do I feel lucky it did.”

Before you could cry any harder Calum said he had to let you go and hung up, leaving you to again cope with the overwhelming feelings of excitement and anticipation at the idea of seeing your boyfriend tomorrow.

Calum silently unlocked the front door, more concerned about waking Duke than you. The pup had super hearing and would surely wake you up with his barking if he heard Calum coming through the front door.

Calum had maybe decided to bend the truth a little and told you he would be arriving about 12 hours later than he actually would just so he would get the chance to surprise you at home.

He pulled his luggage softly through the front door and abandoned his suitcase and his shoes there, making a beeline for your shared bedroom. Calum wanted nothing more than to fall asleep with you for the first time in 4 months, his muscles aching with exhaustion.

He slowly pushed the bedroom door open, the faint sound of Jack Skellington talking still playing softly.

Calum smiled as he approached you and Duke lying comfortably on the large plush bedding, the small dog tucked tightly into your waist. He was thankful Duke hadn’t woken up so Calum could be the one to let his presence be known.

Calum crouched on his knees next to the bed, taking a few moments to watch you peacefully sleeping before he would wake you up.

After a few minutes of rememorizing every minute detail of your face and watching the rise and fall of your chest as you took in breaths, Calum finally reached a hand up and brushed a stray hair away from your face, caressing your cheek softly with his thumb.

You stirred softly under his touch but your eyes stayed closed so Calum’s hand fell down to your shoulder. He squeezed it lightly in an attempt to slowly lull you out of sleep and not scare you.

“Baby,” he cooed gently, “wake up.”

The sound of Calum’s voice made you think you were just having a really good dream but you slowly came to as Calum continued to rub your upper arm.

Once your eyes fluttered fully open and you were able to take in what exactly was happening, you realized that the man standing in front of you was not a figment of your imagination, he was really there.

“Cal?” You rubbed your eyes hard and looked at him again. He was definitely real.

“That’s me.” He gave you that cheeky smile that you love so much and you immediately dove into his arms, almost knocking the poor guy over.

“Cal, you’re home,” you ran your fingers through his hair, still not fully believing this wasn’t just a really, really good dream. But no, his hair was real and his body fit against yours like it did the last time you hugged him four months ago and you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, never wanting to let him go. “I missed you so much. This doesn’t feel real.” Calum rubbed his hands softly up and down your skin, under the shirt of his you had on. “I love you.” He said into your shoulder and you felt like you were melting into him.

After a few more minutes like that, you pulled away from Calum and tugged him into bed. He greeted Duke with lots of pets and kisses and as soon as Calum laid down, Duke found a warm spot next to him.

“You must be exhausted.” You sat upright looking down at him as he lay with his head on his pillow, running your hands through his hair.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of your cool hand. “I can’t sleep without you.” He said.

So you sunk down under the covers and Calum pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped securely around you and within minutes, you heard soft snores coming from behind you.

He was finally home.

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obeymebabes · 4 years

Text

Your First (Mammon x MC)

Warnings: Slight spoilers for the Mammon birthday event. Also really fluffy.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMS!!! This is based on a scene from the Mammon birthday event. I’ve done a fic for everyone’s birthday thus far so I might as well continue it! I’m sorry if this isn’t the best, I didn’t plan this out like I usually do and just tried to go with the flow.

Summary: You need to help Mammon try to sleep so the brothers can set up his surprise party. You have offered to stay with him and talk until he gets tired. You also want to be the first to wish him a happy birthday.

Just a few more hours until his big day.

Mammon’s birthday was just around the corner. He was so excited that he told everyone a week in advance. His brothers had everything planned perfectly for him. All thanks to you of course.

The day before was exhausting, making sure everything was ready to be set up later that night while Mammon slept. Of course they stuck you on duty to make sure he would go to sleep.

That night you headed to Mammon’s room. Upon walking through the door you found Mammon standing up and talking to himself, looking visibly distraught about something.

“Aaaaah, damn it! I can’t sleep!” Mammon groaned, trying to rub his eyes to see if it would help.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, making him aware of your presence. He smiled in your direction when he saw you, quickly making his way to you.

“Oh, MC! Perfect timing! I was playin’ this game that Levi recommended, and there was this scary scene with a whole bunch of zombies…!” He explained, shaking his head at the thought.

It’s still shocking to you that a demon, a very powerful one at that, is able to be so easily scared by a game or movie about something that doesn’t even exist. Like zombies. He has seen so much throughout his years of life that surely he would be immune to such “scary” creatures.

“Playin’ something like that right before bed is seriously just the worst…” Mammon avoided eye contact with you, blushing a bit at how ridiculous he sounded. “Not that I’m scared of anything! I’m just too excited to sleep, ya know?” His voice faltered momentarily as he tried to save his dignity by adding that additional information.

He just wanted to seem like the big, scary protective demon that he had portrayed in his own fantasy. He couldn’t let a mere human think he was anything less than what he was. A demon like him shouldn’t be so terrified.

Luckily, the Avatar of Sloth showed up at the perfect time. Stepping into Mammon’s room to join you both, he smiled.

“Did I hear that you can’t sleep, Mammon?” Belphegor asked, ignoring Mammon’s previous comments about being scared of a video game cut-scene.

Mammon laughed a bit as he noticed his normally sleeping brother was awake. His snide comment said it all, “Oh, Belphie! You’re awake too, huh? That’s pretty rare!”

Taking a moment to look around his room, Mammon thought of an idea. Not the best idea, but an idea nonetheless.

“Oh, I know. Since we’re all here, why don’t we stay up together? I got some cards. Wanna play a few rounds or somethin’?”

This wasn’t at all going according to plan. Mammon was wide awake. He didn’t show any signs of being tired, either. Belphie, luckily, had somewhat of a plan. He was the Avatar of Sleep Sloth after all. This was his specialty. Sort of.

Mammon looked impatient, shifting his footing as he waited for an answer from either you or his sleepy brother.

“No. It’s really late. So here, read this and go to bed.” Belphie handed his brother a letter. One of the many letters that he had received over the past few days. It may have seemed like a silly idea at first but you could tell that Mammon really enjoyed having the spotlight.

Mammon took the letter, reading the name of it, “For when you can’t sleep – Part 1.”? Confused by what this meant, he opened it to read the inside. “Please make use of Belphie’s co-sleeping service.”

Looking even more confused than before, he eyed the both of you. Before he had a chance to speak, you spoke up first, “That’s exactly what you need right now!”

Mammon looked back down at the paper then back to Belphie. “What the heck is “Belphie’s co-sleeping service”?” Belphie had a grin across his face. “You don’t have to be shy, Mammon. I’m a pro when it comes to sleep.”

You sat and watched the Avatar of Greed eye his brother. “Only when it comes to your own sleep!” You could see that Mammon was visibly annoyed by being offered such a ridiculous situation. Why did he have to listen to the stupid paper? What did this even mean?

Belphie made his way over to Mammon’s bed. Crawling into it, making himself right at home with his cow-patterned pillow. You couldn’t help but giggle at how frustrated Mammon was getting. Yelling at his younger brother to get out of his bed.

Within seconds, Belphie was out cold while Mammon and you both sat there looking at him. The greedy demon groaned and walked over to shake his sleeping brother awake. None of this was going to plan. How was Mammon supposed to sleep when his brother was only annoying him instead of actually helping him?

Finally shaking him awake, Belphie groaned and looked around to see that he was still in Mammon’s room. He rubbed his eyes and laughed. With a yawn, the formerly sleeping demon looked at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Fine. MC, it’s time for Part 2.” He mentioned, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes. Mammon turned to you, still very confused about the situation that was going on. Belphie urged you to hand over the letter you had prepared for tonight should the Avatar of Sloth’s plan not work.

You carefully handed him the next letter that you had stowed away in your pocket. Taking it, Mammon blushed, since it was from you after all.

With a grin, he read the words on the front, “For when you can’t sleep - Part 2.” Opening it, seemingly excited he couldn’t help but smile. “MC’s bedtime chat service.”? MC is going to chat with me until I fall asleep?! Yeah that’s what I’m talking about!”

Nearly jumping for joy at the time he gets to spend with you tonight, he rushed to get his brother out of his room. Not long after Belphegor left, Mammon was rushing to talk to you.

You started out talking about the birthday letters, he was telling you all about how happy he was to receive them, since he had never had an experience like this before in his time of living. Looking into his eyes you could tell how happy he was to have you here with him, especially if it meant spending the night in his room.

“Hey, since you’re here, why don’t we chat until it’s midnight?” He offered, smiling as he fiddled with his thumbs.

You smiled at him, looking him in the eyes before you spoke. How could you pass up an offer like that? It was one of the few uninterrupted times you had with him. No one was going to come in and bother you.

“Okay, because I want to be the first person to wish you a happy birthday!” You answered, noticing the greedy demon blush.

With that being said, the both of you talked.

It was getting rather close to midnight, and you had both talked for quite some time. With still a few moments left to spare, the room went silent as you both thought about everything that you had just covered within the last 55 minutes of talking. Most of it was nothing of interest, just his silly stories that made you both laugh.

That was something he really loved to do. Make you laugh. See you smile. As long as you were happy, he was equally as happy.

“Remember when you first got to Devildom?” He questioned, his voice no louder than a whisper. Your eyes met his. A small smile curling from his lips. You nodded as a reply to his question.

“I don’t know what I was thinkin’ when I thought you were all bad just ‘cause you were human. You’re really great ya know. The more I get to know about ya the more I like ya. I don’t know how I did anythin’ without ya for the last… however many years.” He let out a small chuckle. Your heart fluttering from his kind words.

“You know, I was really skeptical about this place. About you, even, but I’ve come to realize you’re just a big softie.” Your words almost seemed to hurt him. He looked a bit offended. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. You were MY first, after all.”

His eyes found yours again and he couldn’t help but smile a toothy grin from hearing that. He loved hearing such praise from you.

“You are MY human. I ain’t lettin’ no one else have ya. Got it?” He gently pressed a hand to your cheek, luring you closer to him. Leaning in to his touch, you could feel his breath against your skin.

“I, The Great Mammon, am really lucky that I have ya. I’d go as far as sayin’ you’re the best treasure I’ve ever gotten, and I didn’t even have to steal ya.” The heat of his breath lingered on your face, making you smile at his kind words.

“Just kiss me already, moron.”

With that being said, he did as he was told. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. His lips lingering against yours. Savouring every moment he could. Perfection. It was everything he had ever dreamed of and more.

When he pulled away, the room was silent. Averting his eyes away from you and shifting a bit in his seat. He was embarrassed by how much you and your affection really affected him. Never in all of his years of living did he imagine falling for a human. The demon checked his D.D.D for the time, which indicated it was midnight.

Breaking the silence between you both, he looked back to you.

“...Oh! It’s midnight! The start of my birthday!”

You smiled at his excitement. The last time you’d ever seen him this happy was when he got Goldie back.

“My life wouldn’t be the same without you, Mammon. Happy birthday.”

He was shocked by your comment. He wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt birthday wish.

“Oh man, I just felt my heart melt.” Mammon chuckled. “I’m so happy that I’m even more awake now! How am I going to fall asleep?”

Getting up carefully with a grin, you took his hand and brought him over to his bed where you peeled back the covers to crawl in. Complying after turning off the lights, he got in next to you, pulling you close to him.

“I ain’t lettin’ you go tonight. Got it?” His voice was low. You closed your eyes, he had you wrapped tight in his arms, his warmth transferring to your body. You could feel him breathe out a sigh of relief, enjoying and savouring the moment he had with your body pressed tight against his.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

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glitterygayvodka · 4 years

Text

Yellow

Note: Omg hiii everyone!! I know that it’s literally been a billion years since I’ve written anything and I’m so sorry for that. Over quarantine I got inspired though so this piece is going to be the first installment of my color series! For every color red through purple I’ll have a story involving Harry and Y/n’s relationship. Thank y’all for being so kind and patient with me. I love you all and I hope you enjoy! My requests are open as well as my inbox in general if you have any questions/comments/concerns. Thank you!! Kissy - 🧡✨Kylei

Warnings: None!! This is all fluff but there’s a wholeeee lot of softness so gear your heart up :))

Yellow is the color of warmth and harmony. Yellow feels like the soft caress of sunshine on your skin, the taste of fresh mango on your tongue, the pleasant aroma of steaming chamomile fluttering against your nose, and the cheerful song of canaries in the early hours of spring.

For Y/n, yellow is a feeling that is almost incapable of being put into words. She feels yellow most often on nights like these, while tangled up with Harry as the sun begins to retire. Yellow is the gentle whisper of his fingers against her back, almost as if he’s writing poetry against her skin. She feels tranquility wash over her as she gazes up at him through relaxed lids, basking in the peaceful sound of his voice as he narrates the newest book they’ve been reading together.

Y/n grins happily as Harry uses different accents for each character, slowly sliding her arms around him and further entangling their legs under the cool and crisp sheets. Yellow feels like plopping onto your bed after a long time away from home, and not to be cliche, but Harry had started to feel like home for Y/n. She found refuge in his ability to be his authentic self with ease, and with him there’s never any pressure for her to be something that she isn’t. Their relationship is a safe haven; one where they can express themselves freely and openly. Their differences and similarities alike connect them in ways neither of them ever imagined.

Y/n finds herself studying him as he reads, admiring him in the same way an art historian admires a Monet. His lashes flutter gently against his tan skin as he blinks, his eyes the color of fresh sage in the hazy lighting of their shared bedroom. Her eyes follow the curve of his nose, down to the beautiful outline of his plush lips. Y/n has always been entranced by Harry’s lips. Their soft pink color conjures the image of delicate cherry blossoms to mind, and the way they wrap around syllables as he speaks mesmerizes her. She can’t help but to stare as he continues to read in his slow, deep, drawl. Eventually, Harry feels her gaze on him as he breaks his focus to look down at her with a puzzled yet knowing smile, his lips sandwiched between two endearing dimples.

“S’there something on my face Princess?” he inquires with humor in his voice, placing a bookmark between the pages and slowly closing the book. Y/n blinks as she emerges from her trance, her gaze moving reluctantly from his lips to his equally enticing eyes. She holds his gaze, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl away from his face. “Nooo,” she laughs with a shake of her head, “I’m just admiring you.” Harry can’t help the flutter in his stomach at her words. Her laugh a melody that he was sure he could listen to for the rest of his life. He pulls her up his body with a giggle of his own after gently placing their book on the nightstand, her thighs falling on either side of him with her bum resting comfortably in his lap.

They sit in a peaceful silence for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. Eye contact has always been something that both of them cherish. It never felt uncomfortable or forced between them, even in the very beginning. The feeling that runs through them while looking into each other’s eyes is hard to label. It’s almost as if their souls are communicating anything that’s ever been left unsaid. The intensity of their connection never fails to send a shiver up Y/n’s spine, or to cause a rosy blush to warm up Harry’s cheeks. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers gently intertwining with his soft curls. Harry lets out a peaceful sigh as Y/n runs her fingers through his hair, taking the time to scratch his scalp occasionally. He lets his eyelids droop in pure bliss, relishing in the aura of the beautiful woman in his lap, who chooses to be with him over anyone else. He can’t say that he’s surprised however, because it often feels like the two of them were made for each other. Two pieces of the same puzzle that make a perfect fit. Harry wasn’t someone who usually believed in fate or destiny, but after meeting Y/n, it didn’t seem so unlikely that certain events were just meant to be, or as Y/n would say, written in the stars.

“What’s on your mind lovely?” she inquires softly, her fingers leisurely making their way up and down his arms and shoulders, stopping every once in a while to trace his tattoos, paying extra attention to one of her favorites; the butterfly. A murmur of contentment slips past his lips, his hands caressing the familiar silhouette of her waist, giving her hips a tender squeeze as he languidly opens his eyes once more. Harry stares at her for a moment before speaking, his eyes committing the blueprint of her face to memory. “M’just thinking about how much love you brought into my life,” He sighs with a gentle shrug of his shoulders.

Y/n can almost feel the sincerity of his words within her bones, his loving tone sending shivers throughout her body despite the warmth of the room. She’s quiet for a while, allowing her thoughts to marinate. Her fingers glide over the delicate string of pearls he had yet to take off, before her gaze slowly returns to his. “Hear my soul speak. At the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.” She quotes with a coy smile, her fingers continuing their path along his body.

Harry’s eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, a perplexed look overtaking his features as he studies her goofy expression. He begins to replay her words in his mind, when suddenly, the realization hits him and he lets out a loud chuckle with a shake of his head. “Did you just quote Shakespeare to me?” He inquires, his tone a mixture of playful annoyance and genuine humor. Y/n lets out a chorus of her own laughter before nodding, a beautiful smile adorning her lips. “Did you expect anything less of me?” She questions, her eyes glinting playfully in the soft lighting. Harry shakes his head yet again, moving his hands from the comfortable position on her waist to intertwine their fingers. “Well, I was actually expecting a kiss,” he grins cheekily, “but the surprise visit from Shakespeare was very enlightening.” He finishes, his thumb caressing the back of her hand lovingly.

Y/n’s body shakes with laughter at his words, and Harry can’t help the huge smile that plasters itself on his face. He could live in this moment, with this beautiful soul, for the rest of his life. He had never felt more genuinely warm, seen, and loved in his entire existence than he did while with Y/n. The love constantly radiates off of the both of them in waves, reaching anyone and everyone who is open to experiencing their magic. As Y/n’s laughter finally begins to subside and he helps her wipe away any happy tears that happened to betray her, Harry’s heart feels beyond full. “Okay I have no idea what came over me!” She breathes, slightly out of breath in the way that only a good laugh can induce. “I guess you’re a comedian and I’m a nerd, so where does that leave us?” Y/n giggles, bringing her gaze back to him with laughter glossed eyes.

“Hmmm,” Harry ponders, slowly intertwining their hands yet again. “I guess that means you’ll always have someone t’quote literature to, and I’ll always have someone t’laugh really hard at my bad jokes.” Yet another smile makes its way to his lips, and Y/n giggles again with a squeeze of his hand. “Well then!” She sings, releasing one of her hands from his to cup his cheek, bringing her face closer to his. “Aren’t we just the perfect pair?” Her question has a playful tone and he can feel the warmth of her breath against him, her eyes moving between his gaze and his lips.

“We sure are...” he murmurs, his hands following her lead, one moving forward cradle her face with the other gently resting against her throat. Harry can feel her pulse quicken with his actions, and it makes him smile to know that she still has this reaction to his touch. Their eyes flutter closed as they move even closer, their lips finally brushing against each other as delicately as if it were the first time. Harry deepens the kiss, the faint taste of mint and honey lingering on her tongue from their nightly bedtime tea, and Y/n relishes in the intoxicating feeling of his soft lips against hers. A long time ago, Y/n realized that soulmates are yellow.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #one direction imagines #harry smut

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Stars Made Us (Part 1)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge -- You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 1857

Warnings: angst and language throughout

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @dontshootmespence, thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong and @arrow-guy and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since you were little, you’d heard the legends. The legend of soulmates. It was as common as Santa Claus or winning the lottery. Some weren’t sure they believed it, because although it was real, it was so rare that people didn’t know how to feel about it. Perhaps it was like believing in ghosts. Documented cases, proof, eye witness accounts weren’t enough to sway some skeptics. Yet, it had to be real because there was a registry, much like when you go to get your license or file a birth certificate or a social security number. There was a system in place to keep track of soulmates.

While others, mainly hopeless romantics, truly believed in soulmates. You heard whispers of it when people talked of their grandparents “perfect marriage” and how they just had to be soulmates. You’d heard some kids on the playground swear their cousin just got their soulmate.

Now, it wasn’t for everyone. It was a rarity, and much like winning the lottery, it only happened to a select few.

The few were seemingly random. Everyone from celebrities and CEOs down to starving artists and people who managed grocery stores. It touched all races, religions, and economic status. It was global. It wasn’t unheard of for a South American woman to be mated with a French man. Or one Australian to find their mate within Africa.

Stories of epic journeys to find their love and mate had been told as bedtime stories. Heart wrenching stories of soulmates who never got to be together.

The idea of soulmates was so endowed in the world and in history that it was rare enough to be celebrated, but common enough to be easily accepted. That’s why, when people walked with scars all over their body, formed in words, people didn’t even think twice.

That’s how it worked. On people’s 18th birthday, their soulmate was assigned, if they had one. Writing on any part of your skin would show up on your mate’s skin as a scar, and vice-versa. For two days out of the year, their birthdays, they could communicate this way.

The only downside was that you couldn’t give out your information to your mate -- that part was up to the universe. When they needed you most, their name and address would show up on your arm. It could be life or death, it could be a mental breakdown, it could be that they’re hurt and need a friend. But until then, you shouldn’t share personal information. People had done it before, met their mates before the universe decided it was time, and awful things tended to happen.

But if they were patient enough, willing enough to wait for the right day, it would all be worth it and they were usually guaranteed a happy life.

Even though you grew up with this knowledge, you’d let it fall to the wayside in your mind. School and friendships took precedence, and you led your life normally. Every now and again, like on birthdays, a fleeting thought of the prospect of a soulmate would run through your head, but for the most part, you filed it away as a fantasy.

That was, until your best friend Jenny reminded you of it on your 18th birthday.

You were having a party at your house. A group of about ten friends and you went out and played mini-golf, then had pizza at your house with cake and gifts, then watched a new movie. Your parents gave you money to buy a lottery ticket for fun, and gave you some money for college.

Nearly everyone had gone home, and your parents already wished you a happy birthday with hugs and kisses before going off to bed. All that was left were you and Jenny, and she was about to walk out the door.

“I’m just saying, you’re 18 now,” she stated as she walked.

“Yeah, I gathered that when I counted 18 candles on the cake, what’s your point?” you asked with a smile.

“My point is, maybe you should try and see if you’ve got a soulmate.”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Jenny, the odds of me having a soulmate are like 1 in a million. It’s a silly idea.”

“That’s been true. You know it and I know it. What’s the harm in finding out? I just had a cousin last year that found out. She wrote some appointment down when she was 21, her soulmate got it and wrote back.”

You perched an eyebrow at her. “How romantic.”

“I’m serious! Come on, how cool would it be?”

“It would be kind of neat,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning. “But if no one writes back--”

“Then you haven’t lost anything, and you’ll find someone great later in life. No harm, no foul. Right?” She gave you that super convincing gorgeous smile before dropping her pushiness. “Alright, alright. Just think about it, okay? Happy birthday,” she said before hugging you tightly.

“Thanks,” you said back.

With that, you cleaned up the kitchen and living room, gathered your gifts, and headed up to bed. You pulled on your pajamas and crawled into your bed, you sat there, thinking about what Jenny had said.

What would be the harm in writing on your arm? If no one spoke back, it was no big deal, right?

But if they didn’t write back, would you be saddened? You’d always secretly hoped you had a soulmate out there, so to find out you didn’t have one would be a little devastating. Of course, your life wouldn’t be over, and like Jenny said, you could always find a partner just like you normally would.

Ultimately, it was just a schoolgirl fantasy… but what if it wasn't? you wondered idly as you sat with your leg propped up on the bed.

You grabbed a pen off your nightstand and took a deep breath, trying to think of the best thing to ask - this would be scarred on them indefinitely after all.

You thought, and you thought, pondering anything you could say. But what do you say to a potential soulmate? Finally, you decided there was no perfect way to go about this, and you put your pen to your arm, writing: Is anyone out there?

You held your breath for a second, wondering if you’d get a scar somewhere in response, even bracing for some form of pain, but after a few moments -- nothing. Nothing happened.

You sighed. Well, it was a long shot anyway.

After lying in bed disappointed for a while, a feather light sensation came crawling across your arm. You frowned for a split second before glancing down and seeing the letters. Instantly, a grin grew wide across your face.

“Hi there. : )”

You wanted to jump for joy. Immediately, your heart soared at the sight. Someone out there was actually fated to be yours? You couldn’t believe this. Why you? You weren’t special.

“This is my email, if you would like to talk more,” you offered, scribbling on your skin before adding in your email. You opted for email since any other form of communication you might be tempted to find out their name.

Within two minutes, a ping noise came from your computer. You sprang from your bed, not even caring that you were the epitome of a school girl right that second. You dashed the cursor over to your inbox and read the new email.

“Hello. So I suppose this means we’re soulmates...”

“I suppose it does,” you wrote back, a giant grin on your face.

“We should probably get some of the formalities out of the way. What should I call you? How old are you?”

“You can call me… Y/F/I. And I’m 18, today is my birthday. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories of people giving out their information before their time. I think we should stick to initials.”

One minute later, in the same penmanship, you felt something on your bicep -- Happy Birthday

The smile on your face lit back up.

“That’s my gift to you. And yes, I have heard of the stories. I would rather be safe than sorry as well. You can call me X. I’m 21. I’m in college, actually in graduate school.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. You’re already in grad school? How? What’s your area of study? I’m going into college in the fall - psychology.”

“I think I should be surprised, but I’m not. That’s what my PhD will be in,” he informed. “As well as genetics and biophysics.”

Well, the universe is funny, isn’t it?

You continued to read his message.

“Long story short, I graduated college at 16. Harvard, if you can believe it.”

Instantly, you were hit with a wave of surprise and shock. Your soulmate was a genius? He was a Harvard grad at 16? In what universe was that possible?

“That’s… really impressive. God I wish I could do that. It’d be amazing to be already done with college. I haven’t even gone there yet but it seems like a lot of work and a lot of stress. Hopefully, the pay off will be worth it though.”

“What are you wanting to do with your degree?”

“Psychiatry.”

“A noble profession.”

“I think so. I’d like to help people, as corny as that sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds corny at all. Quite admirable, in fact. If people didn’t feel that way, we wouldn’t have good people in the world.”

He already thought you were a good person? you wondered, warmth spreading over you.

“I guess that is one way to look at it. I just want to help people and be a voice for people who don’t exactly have a lot of advocates.”

“That’s precisely why we get into these professions, darling,” he wrote.

Darling? Wow, so far, this guy was the jackpot.

“I suppose it is. So what are some of your favorite books, if you don’t mind me asking? And movies. I feel like a quick way to get to know someone pretty well is through their interests.”

“Indeed it is,” he replied. “I happen to favor T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, as far as books go and I don’t particularly have time for many films.”

“Oh, I see,” you started, and then explained your favorite books and film.

He had asked you why you liked those and you went into a rather lengthy explanation of why you enjoyed them more than others. After that you two talked music, actually having quite a lot in common there.

You stayed up all night emailing, until the sun came up. It wasn’t until the glare hit your computer screen that you realized it, either. You didn’t want to end the magical evening, but you did need rest, and you were sure as a grad student, he needed all he could get as well.

That morning you went to sleep with this newfound relief. It was one less thing you’d have to worry about in life. Worry about finding a mate, a partner for life. They were already there, already perfect, already waiting…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the stars made us #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier fic #charles xavier #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange fic #stephen strange

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-16)

Word count: 1.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Fluffity fluff fluff, pregnancy stuff.

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: One sneak peak into their married life :) I know it is a short chapter but we felt that the break was necessary. Thank you to all you guys who comment and reblog. I love you <3

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. You da best <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

13th February 2009

“Are you peeking from in between my fingers?” Sam asked dubiously. “I’ll know if you cheat.”

She laughed her clear, joyous laughter. “I’m not peeking. Some trust?”

He could have followed that up with something cheesy but Sam held his tongue as he maneuvered around the foyer and into the living room.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” The note of excitement was palpable in her voice.

Sam lifted his hands from over her eyes. There was a gasp as she took in the room before her. The double height space and the classic wooden furniture. The opposite wall was completely glass and one could see the sprawl of Manhattan below it. Sam tried to imagine how it looked to her, the modern staircase leading up to the upper story, the kitchen that was just visible around the living room corner. It wasn’t a big place with only two bedrooms upstairs, and Sam had wondered over and over if getting a place in the city was a good idea after all, especially with little Chirp on the way. Maybe he should have looked for a little house in the suburbs with a picket fence and a wide road where chirp could ride his bicycle.

Sam was distracted by that image- of a little boy trying to balance his wheels. Both, he and Y/N had been so excited on the day of the sonography two weeks ago. Bets had been made and Sam had never been happier to lose. A baby boy with Y/N’s smile and Y/N’s heart. It would be alright with him if the kid was all Y/N, really. He could still picture her face as she’d held his hand, the tears streaming down her face- “We’re having a boy, Sam. We’re having a son.”

“This is beautiful,” Y/N exhaled, breaking Sam out of his reverie. “I love it.”

“There’s a small study upstairs,” he pointed and her eyes followed the direction of his fingers.

“Both the bedrooms are upstairs,” he said apologetically. “But since you won’t be moving here before the delivery, I didn’t think it would be much of a problem.”

“Sam, stop fretting,” she said, turning in the circle of his arms- a little awkwardly, now that she was rounder in the middle. “This home is perfect.”

It brought back his earlier anxiety. “You don’t think the city is a bad place to raise a child? We can pass on this and look for something outside the city limits.”

“Houses don’t raise children. Parents do,” she reminded him with humour in her eyes. “As long as we are together, we can make this work. And no, I don’t think you’re being selfish by booking a flat close to your work.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“I know you, Mister.” She blew a kiss towards him.

Wondering not for the first time about just how perceptive Y/N was, Sam gave her a tour of the house, especially careful on the steps. It was perfect for her taste, already. Minimal and elegant. He didn’t think that she would want to redecorate.

“I’m thinking we can move the furniture to one side and make this into a mini library,” she was saying, pointing to the corner where the foyer opened up. “And your piano can go right next to it.”

“Mhmm…”

She looked at him, then, eyes narrowing, before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the sofa with her.

“You’re a million miles away, Sam,” she said, squeezing the hand she was holding. “What’re you thinking?”

“It’s hard to be away from you,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

They had both always known that Sam would have to move to New York in February for the job, but when it came to Y/N, Ellen had put her foot down that she would remain in Lawrence till the delivery. Y/N needs a mother, she needs a sister to look after her, Ellen had explained. Besides, there was only Sam here, and so many people in Lawrence to care for Y/N. The logic had seemed infallible to Sam then, and Y/N didn’t want to break her aunt’s heart. How hard could it be? Living apart for a few months. But the one week he had spent in the city without her had been torturous to say the least. She was on his mind all the time and it was making it harder to concentrate on his new job. There was always so much anxiety, about whether she was doing okay.

He had been dying for the weekend, knowing that she would be visiting him.

“It’s just a few more months,” she reassured him. “And you’ll be with me on the weekends.”

“It’s not enough,” he sighed. “I miss you more than what’s logical.”

Her laughter rang through the somewhat empty house.

“I’m being silly, aren’t I?” He gave her a wry smile.

Y/N shook her head. “You’re not being silly. You’re just being a wonderful husband.”

Sam reached out and pulled her over him, then leaned back on the sofa so she was sleeping against his side. His fingers found her hair, as he tried to convey just how much each second spent with her meant to him. The rational part of his brain told him that the novelty was supposed to wear off after a while, that he wouldn’t always be so maddeningly in love with her, and yet, in his heart Sam knew that the rational part of his brain was being stupid. He didn’t think it was possible for him to love her any less. Ever.

“So, do you want to visit the Yale campus tomorrow?” He spoke into her hair, where he was occasionally planting kisses. “You know, for Valentine’s day?”

She shook silently against him in laughter at first, then managed in between giggles. “Stop selling Ivy Leagues to me!”

Sam laughed along with her. “Really, Y/N! What’s stopping you now?”

“I don’t think I can get in.”

“That’s a whole load of bull if anything,” he said. “I really believe that you can achieve anything you set your heart to. Yale… Stanford… Berkeley… anything.”

“You skipped one,” she pointed out and he rolled his eyes.

“Harvard’s overrated.” He had always been prejudiced about Harvard. And the years spent at Yale with all that rivalry hadn’t helped one bit.

Sam could see she wasn’t entirely convinced, but Y/N gave in with good grace. “Okay, we’ll go to New Haven tomorrow. Happy?”

“More than I can express in words,” Sam answered truthfully.

***************************

17th March 2009

“Okay, you need to stop crying,” Sam mumbled. “I feel like I’m doing an awful job.”

“No no…” you waved your hand. “Don’t stop playing. I’m just being an emotional idiot here. It’s the hormones… and you play so beautifully.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you’re going to give me a big head here.”

Barely.

It was way past your bedtime, but you wanted to make the most of the weekend since Sam was here. You dragged him to the piano to play something for you. There was something heavenly about watching his fingers slide over the keys.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said honestly, taking one of his hands, while the other continued playing and kissing his knuckles. “Be so cutthroat in the courtroom and so gentle… otherwise.”

You had taken to reading his textbooks and notes from college in the afternoon, carefully noting the language, the way he phrased his arguments. You could only imagine him sitting in the Green Library, as he had described it, slogging over assignments. Maybe if you learned some of this now, you could apply it in college yourself.

Sam shuddered as you kissed the silver band on his finger.

“If you keep doing that, Y/N,” He said slowly, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep playing for long.”

You giggled and let go of his hand. Sam sighed regretfully, but went back to his keys. Fur Elise again.

You felt it then. Swift and fluttering.

“Sam!” You gasped.

“I know, I know this is your favourite… But I swear if you start crying again-”

“No, Sam! The baby kicked!”

“What?”

You grabbed his hand and placed it over your belly. “Feel it! Chirp’s kicking.”

“Holy-” Sam’s eyes were wide as he put both his palms on your stomach, moving around when the baby kicked again.

“I felt something a week ago and then again on Tuesday, but this is the first time…” The tears that had just subsided came back again and started pouring down your cheeks.

“Our baby is… kicking…”

Abruptly, Sam yanked your shirt up by the hem, rolling it so it was tucked right under your chest, and placed his cheek on the skin where you had felt the first push.

Chirp moved again and you felt Sam stiffen over you. He held his breath for a while, but nothing happened again.

“Play something,” you suggested.

Without really moving, Sam moved one hand and placed it over the keys, playing the intro of Swan lake. Inside you, Chirp moved again.

“Sam! He’s doing it again. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. For the next few minutes his fingers played ceaselessly on the keys. Happily, you hummed along, feeling the little movements that quieted down slowly till they stopped.

When Sam finally raised his head up, you could see his eyes were watery.

“This… this…”

“I know,” you said, watching him struggle to find words. “I know.”

You reached out to touch the corner of his eye. “And I thought I was the hormonal one, huh?”

“You hear that, Chirp,” Sam mumbled, hand still on your rounded stomach. “You see how your mom makes fun of dad?”

“Chirp’s smart,” you said smugly. “He’ll know whose side to pick.”

The moisture still rolled down the side of Sam’s eye. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this… that I was around.”

“You hear that, Chirp?” You said, lightly. “Your dad’s scared about missing out. It’s because he loves you.”

Sam pulled you against his chest where you could hear the beat of his heart, slowing to normal with each passing second. You didn’t know what he was thinking… but you could guess that his thoughts were probably in line with yours. And as far as you were concerned, your closed eyes conjured one specific image. A tall man sitting before a piano, head not quite bowed, but rather tilted towards a woman who was looking at him with love and adoration. The music flowed slowly, but not in tune, because between them, a small boy was seated, giggling mischievously as he tinkered with the keys, off-scale but lilting. He would look up at the man for approval after each stroke, and when his father nodded, the boy would turn to the woman with a look of sheer happiness and a hint of pride in his soft hazel eyes. Your family.

***************************

A/N 2: Just one last flashback chapter to go. I’m pretty sure you all know what happens by this point, but just in case someone wants to know to avoid triggers, please feel free to message privately. It’s a really angsty chapter, so I thought it necessary to forewarn you.

That being said, due to exams I’ll be a bit inactive, but I’ll try my best to post the next chapter on schedule so we can go back to the present timeline as soon as possible.

I’ve added the posting dates for the next two chapters on the masterlist, in case you guys want to know!

The feedback is literally what’s keeping this story going right now. My immense thanks to all you lovely people who take the time out to be SO kind to me. I love you <3

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