#they still had me in their clutches by the end of july so i was a little worried lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nqctar · 3 months

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𖦹 fireworks ; anton lee

pairing. best friend!anton x f!reader. genre. fluff. childhood friends to lovers. inspired by tsitp. synopsis. in the midst of a perfect summer night’s breeze, through flashes of fireworks, your summers spent wishing for anton to give you a sign finally come true. warnings. kissing. physical touch. wc. 1,344 words.

( 🐚 ) ONE SUMMER CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING.

you were in love. you knew it the moment you took glances at anton through your embarassingly large and round eyeglasses. right down to the first brace faced smile the two of you shared, there was always an unspoken mutual pining. though it had been years since that first encounter, seeing him each summer was like the first time over and over again. almost as if anton was a dream you conjured up through fevered nights. he seemed like someone you'd make up in your head to pass time and daydream about.

he was the physical manifestation of all your daydreams. knowing that made your heart ache. every summer you spent with him, digging up seashells along the salty shorelines of cousins beach and pushing each other into the freezing cold water still wasn't enough. you needed more than summers from him. you needed his cello callused hands to run through your hair. you needed to wake up in the morning and see his big brown eyes marveling at you.

you didn't need the summer anymore, if it meant you'd bask for eternity in anton's presence. he was everything to you.

though you wished every lovesick thought you had of him could come true, you found yourself going home at the end of each summer wanting for more. wishing you'd left with a kiss instead of a secret handshake the two of you made up in his treehouse the first summer you met. you deserved more, you thought. with nine years of wishing, something's gotta give.

"i am in control of my destiny," you say through closed eyes while sitting criss-crossed in front of lit french toast scented candles and a mirror. "my fate is up to me." the meditation track booming through your noise cancelling headphones drowned out the sounds of anton's audible confusion.

deep in your own zen and thought, you feel a gentle hand reach out and touch your shoulder. the feeling makes you jump, letting out a yelp louder than you can hear over the music.

"holy shit anton! where did you come from?!" laughter ripples through him, and he clutches his stomach while trying to regain some composure. as always, your heart does backflips upon seeing his beaming smile right in front of you. crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. he looked so, so pretty. you wanted to lean in and-

not now. maybe not today, even. things were perfect between you two. ruining your friendship with a kiss wasn't a chance you wanted to take. not now, not ever.

brushing your feelings aside, you blow the candle flames out and toss your headphones onto the bed. anton had calmed down already, though giggles still shook his body. you rolled your eyes at him. "it wasn't that funny, shut up." anton wiped a tear from his face, shaking his head. "don't be lame, it was hilarious."

"we're about to light the fireworks, obviously i don't want you to miss it so," he stops to brush a strand of long hair out of your face. an action he'd done many times before. it was almost second nature to him, yet it almost made your knees buckle. "finish your weird demonic chanting and come outside with me."

you grab your hoodie, one that actually belonged to anton during his brief stint on the cousins beach rowing team, he'd given it to you two years ago. it was a size too big for you then, and still too big for you now.

"you actually still use that? stop reminding me of my dark past." anton groans.

again, you roll your eyes. “it's comfortable, deal with it. and what 'dark past?' you were on the team for like two weeks. what's the worst that could've happened?"

anton shivers as the two of you step into the surprisingly chilled july air. "i tipped over in the boat and started screaming. people recorded it. they called me the cousins beach klutz." he cringes at the memory, and in turn you laugh. "okay, maybe that does count as a dark past."

the two of you walk down to your special spot, one you both found accidentally after running along the beach back to anton's summer house thinking you'd miss the fireworks. you remember the flashes of red white and blue that lit up the sky, how your hand brushed up against anton's as you both settled on a huge rock. that was the first time you considered your feelings for anton being more than just a normal crush.

it was also the first time you realized how quickly your feelings for him grew.

the two of you both sit down somewhat comfortably on that same rock, closer together than last year. he sets his the stand of his phone down in front of you both, something he does every year to document your reactions to the fireworks. you never questioned it, though something in the back of your mind gives you hope that he's doing it as an excuse to fill his gallery up with pictures and videos of you.

neither of you talk. there's tension in the air for some reason, and anton can feel it too. he peeks down at your hand, covering it with his own.

"your hands look cold," his voice is quiet. he's coming off shy. something is different.

"i'm just... warming them for you." your heart begins to race faster than it was before. you turn to look at him just as the first fireworks begin to colour the sky.

between the illuminated flashes of colourful lights bursting in the night sky, the earth had a population of two.

just anton, and you.

to your surprise anton was staring right back at you, big brown eyes peering into yours. he brushes a lock of hair away from your face and leans in. "i really want to kiss you." he whispers. the intoxicating scent of his vanilla conditioner calms you. anton is as perfect as he's always been, your very own dream come true.

this moment was the culmination of your winters spent praying to whoever was listening for summer to arrive quicker than last year. every drive back to your house at the end of each summer you held tears back was not in vain. everything you wanted was right in front of you.

"kiss me," you utter. "just kiss me."

with the last few bursts of fireworks blooming in the starry night sky, anton's strawberry chapstick flavoured lips meet yours. he kisses you with the fervor of years spent pining and waiting. his hands run through your hair, your noses bump, he lets a thumb smooth over the side of your face. he's everywhere you want him to be.

his hands drag up and down your sitting frame. the two of you pull away for air, lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

"we just kissed." anton remarks, somewhat in shock. his hand finds yours again, lacing your fingers together with his.

"i've been waiting so long for you to make a move, y/n." he lets out a nervous laugh. "i was worried you didn't feel the same."

your face reddens. "i didn't want to ruin us. i was scared that i'd do the wrong thing and you'd leave me." you admit. sympathy flashes over anton's face. "god no, i wouldnt—" he picks your hand up and kisses the back of it. "i'm not going anywhere, y/n."

"you're stuck with me forever." he grins.

you place a soft kiss to his lips again, savouring the brief moment.

"i wouldn't have it any other way, anton." he blushes at your response, ears reddening with shyness.

an unspoken 'i love you' lingers in the air, both of you too timid to say it out loud.

maybe next summer, you think.

for now, you curl into his side, choosing to rest your head on his shoulder.

everything in this moment feels perfect.

it's just you and anton existing together. you'd spend the rest of forever this way, if only you could.

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andy-wm · 7 months

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Jungkook's GOLDEN moment

Or, the media journey of our Golden Boy's debut album, and what it all means.

This post grew out of a question that popped into my head a couple of days ago.... "what are we really getting on 3 November?"

Sometimes ADHD is a blessing. Other times it's a curse. It all depends on your perspective.

I was going to write a few words - just share an idea - but part of my day job is getting the facts right (and doing the research and validating information) so what started as a quick idea has grown into a long, long story.

As I said, ADHD can be a blessing. I may have resorted to cutting my own hair yesterday because I keep forgetting to make an appointment with the barber, but I can go without food or sleep if something sparks my curiosity. And this has. And the good news is, I'm sharing all that with whoever wants to read it. The other good news is that fortunately, hair grows back.

So I suggest you either grab a snack and get comfortable, or skip to the end to read my conclusion. Because in Tumblr, as in life, my ability to talk nonstop for hours about random shite is unmatched.

Where did all this begin?

When did we first hear about Jungkook's debut solo album? I believe the original announcement came from the annual forecast/investment report documents, which I found out about via tw in May this year.

Jungkook's album was officially forecast for release in the fourth quarter according to the HYBE and Hanwha Investment report.

We were all thrilled and excited! I certainly was.

JK's voice is the aural equivalent of an ice cream sundae - refreshingly cool and softly warm, and multi-layered with all the fancy toppings. He can do pop-sugar sprinkles, he can do fancy slivered almonds, he can do spicy peaches in brandy, lit on fire.

His voice flows into your ears, sweet and hot, just like him.

It was good news but not surprising. Because by the time that report came out we had already had albums (or news of albums) from Hobi, Namjoon, Jiminie and Yoongles. We had figured out they were all going release something. It would have been odd if Jungkook DIDN'T join his bandmates in this. ARMY knows he's a prolific and talented songwriter from way back. He's been writing and producing songs for BTS's albums from as far back as 2015. With instant ARMY favourites like Still With You, Decalcomania, and Your Eyes Tell to his name, Jungkook's album was an exciting prospect.

In June and July, rumours about the album surfaced:

On 4 June, Korean news website Sports Chosun, released an article about Jungkook's debut album - claiming the release date as 14 July. The article toted an English song on the album as 'a huge hit'.

BigHit responded, slapping the news website on the wrist and stating that THEY would make announcement when the release date was confirmed.

ARMYs and everyone else lit up the ether with chatter about the announcement, but where many news sites were simply regurgitating the Sports Chosun article, we were wondering where they got that information, and why they were talking about this English song being a hit as though that would be something new for a BTS song.

Um... do you know BTS?

Fast forward to 14th July... and the release of SEVEN (ft Letto).

A single, not an album, but it was HUGE.

Most ARMYs loved it but some were shocked... at the revelation that their darling Jungkookie is in fact a horny young man who enjoys pleasures of the flesh. And thank god he does, honestly, because the thought of his youth and beauty being wasted on abstinence is devastating to me. He works too hard not to enjoy a good fuck - hopefully seven days a week.

We all know the explicit version had a few people clutching their pearls and petticoats, but on the whole the reception was good. SEVEN (ft Letto!) sailed majestically to the top of the charts all across the globe and settled in alongside Like Crazy as a long term resident on the Billboard Hot 100.

Jungkook travelled abroad for the promos (with Jimin) and sang his song everywhere from New York to London.

But he also visited us, often.

He made time to chat for hours with ARMY, telling us how much we mean to him, and how he has decided to trust himself, and how he hopes WE would trust him too. He told us over and over that he has decided to do what he wants. That this is what he wants. That he hopes we love it.

It was clear he was having a lot of fun with SEVEN.

The MV, and the making of the MV, were a hit in themselves, and we got to see JK's acting chops (clearly SO MUCH better than Yoongi's he told us).

And then came more news about the album...

It wasn't long after that, only three days in fact, before another article about his upcoming album surfaced. This time it was on the (apparently very factually reliable) music news site, Hits Daily Double.

The article sat strangely askew for many ARMYs. For OT7 fans of BTS it felt more than a little off.

From the opening sentence...

Jung Kook's "Seven" f/Latto (HYBE/Geffen) set records in its first 24 hours on Spotify.

...to the brazenly competitive comparisons with BTS and the other members achievements, the tone of the article was smug and divisive and frankly not very Bangtan.

For a short puff piece, it managed to put a good half of the fandom's nose out of joint. I have no doubt that was the intention, that it aimed to sow dissent and push JK ahead of his members in ARMY's - and the world's - eyes. We weren't mad at JK - far from it - we could see right through the writer's intent. And we knew who was behind it...

Enter stage left: The Villain, Scrotum Balls

"HYBE Chairman Bang Si-Hyuk's trust in HYBE America CEO Scooter Braun is continuing to pay off. Braun found the song and connected Jung Kook with the Grammy-winning Producer of the Year he reps, Andrew Watt."

Did SB write this bollocks himself?? What a twat, seriously.

But wait, there's more...

"Those involved with Jung Kook's forthcoming debut album, which will be an all-English effort, are very bullish on the project and see it as a pivotal moment in the BTS solo campaign. Jung Kook's embrace of sexuality and profanity is giving new life to BTS fans..."

This is where it all starts going a little pear shaped. I can almost see the smile melting off Jungkook's face as he read this article.

Not a word about the themes this album would explore, or the music itself, or even a word from the artist. Just SB crowing about the 'project' that those involved were so bullish about.

In other articles on this site from the same time, Jungkook is referred to as an alumnus of BTS, and the erstwhile bandmate of V. Both of these terms insinuate that he has left BTS, which is very misleading.

At that point, some of us were very worried. It was starting to look like Jungkook himself was the project - a little project for SB to use as a self promotion tool. The sacrificial lamb he was going to offer to the gods of commercial radio and the plastic world of pop stardom to redeem himself for the absolute fucking mess he made when he tied up his label's artists with red tape and held them hostage.

Did anyone watch the movie TAR?

Spoiler alert, but the main character Lydia's attempts to regain her influence after she destroyed her own empire, are not dissimilar to SB's. The only way she could rise from the ashes after figuratively burning her house to the ground, was to reinvent herself in a new environment. She started over, with her trademark ego-driven confidence not dented in the least, believing herself the ultimate maestro as she took on a new project to mould into her image of success.

The parallels are uncanny.

Moving on...

Suchwita with Jungkook was revealing, in that it revealed nothing...

Specifically the nothing that had happened with the mini album!

Jungkook said he hadn't started working on the album, he was still searching single #2. He said after the second single he would release a mini album in November.

"Are the songs for the album ready?" Yoongi asked.

"No" replied Jungkook, "I have to start working on them now."

At the time Suchwita was filmed, Jungkook had yet to start working on the songs for the mini album he was due to release in November.

In a previous Weverse live he also said he hadn't started working yet. He had no songs. The extended break was so good that he would have been happy to keep resting, until SEVEN came along.

Confirmed in the AUDACY interview in NY:

In his interview with Audacy (recorded around 14 July in NY) Jungkook's message was consistent with what he said to Yoongi.

There were 'no specifics set yet' when asked about an upcoming album... certainly no mention of ALL ENGLISH SONGS.

When asked "How do you want to make your solo work special and unique to you?" Jungkook responded that he didn't want to chase anything. That he 'wants everything to become special naturally, because he does his best.' He says SEVEN wasn't released because he had specific plans, it just happened. He wants the next song to come along naturally too.

That's a very different message from the brash, aggressively confident stance taken in the Hits Daily Double article - I think we we can safely assume they were SB's words - and it's also not shining a light on SB as the hero of the moment the way the article tried to do.

Jungkook had either not been briefed on SB's vision for the album, or he wasn't on board with it. Either way, the album was not mentioned again until early October.

Let's return to Suchwita and to Tae's interview.

*this is focused on the conversation about JK's album, no disrespect to our smooth operator.

"This album is the last solo album," says Yoongi.

When I watched this episode I first thought Yoongi was talking about the order that the Suchwita episodes were filmed, when he said Tae's album was the last. He clarified in the next sentence that he was talking about the release date.

"You're the last one," says Yoongi.

<<Wait... so what happened to JK's album?>>

"That's right. I feel so much pressure," continues Tae.

"Everyone was like, I don't want to be last," laughs Yoongi.

What Tae says next is pivotal:

"But if I didn't like it, I wouldn't have released it. I would have said I'm sorry, but I can't."

Oh really?

So THAT'S AN OPTION? He could say "No, I don't like it so I'm not releasing it."?!

They go on to talk about promotions for all the members and how they differed, as though everyone else has done all the promotions they have lined up, but all I can think about is...

Did Jungkook say NO to SB?

Maybe he hadn't agreed to anything when that Hits Daily Double article was published. Maybe SB shot his mouth off before JK had even listened to the songs he was proposing. Jungkook told us he's doing what he wants to do.

Maybe Jungkook didn't like the songs, or the direction the album was taking. Our Jungkook can be stubborn and he knows his worth. Maybe he said he didn't want to be SB's little project?

That would explain why we heard nothing else about his *All English*mini album. Between July and the announcement of the release date in early October, there wasn't even a whisper.

On 3 October, Hits Double Daily released a second article:

The tone of this release couldn't be more different from the first article.

No mention of SB

No mention of ALL ENGLISH

Jungkook is suddenly back in the BigHit stable, whereas before he was being associated with Hybe/Geffen

The source is clearly stated as BH

The forceful language of the first article is notably absent. This piece is purely factual, short and to the point.

Tags for this article are: JungKook, BTS, GOLDEN, BIGHIT. Compared to the first article which was additionally tagged with HYBE, Geffen, Scooter Braun, Bang Si-Hyuk, Andrew Watt.

This sentence: Jung is known as the “golden maknae” (“golden youngest”) of BTS. Suddenly Jungkook is back in BTS (as opposed to an alumnus of BTS). His status as the maknae also firmly grounds him in his Korean roots, a fact which was hardly mentioned in other articles. (and they got his name wrong ffs...)

There's also the MAJOR fact that unlike SEVEN, Jungkook is performing the debut of this album in Korea, not in the USA. That also says to me that SB is not involved (or less involved).

Other evidence of Jungkook's autonomy in this, is his unexpected performance of Still With You at the GCL concert. You could tell he was nervous, he lost his performance presence a little - standing awkwardly with his hand on his hip - and I think it was because there was something more at stake with that performance. All my fingers and toes are crossed for it's inclusion on the album.

Where does that leave us with GOLDEN?

My conclusion is that there has been some level of disagreement between SB and Jungkook about the album. And that Jungkook has stood his creative ground (YES!) and put some distance between himself and SB.

I fervently hope this is true.

Remember that Yoongi said Jungkook is the most talented musician he's ever met.

Yoongi, who I would trust with my soul even if he had horns and called himself the prince of darkness.

well that picture's kinda hot!

...

(I lost my train of thought thinking about Yoongi with horns)

Yes, Yoongi said that.

Yoongi who works with dozens and dozens of musicians including 6 of the most successful artists in the world...oh, and PSY.

The suggestion in the first article - that Jungkook's debut album was being designed with strategic market-oriented goals in mind - was so disturbing, when we know what a brilliant artist he is.

Sure it would be advantageous if Jungkook could access the networks and opportunities that come with an association with SB.

But if having an introduction to SB's circle means he's handcuffed to the strategic vision of a person who sees music as a corporate commodity, and Jungkook as a project, I truly hope he said 'I'll pass thanks.'

And let's not forget the album went from being a mini album (2-6 songs) to ELEVEN songs. In my minds eye I see Jungkook saying 'you think I can't come up with a whole album in two months? Hold my beer.'

Jungkook doesn't need SB to be successful...

He is after all...

THE GOLDEN MAKNAE

Here are the sources, if you want to see where this info came from...

youtube

#jeon jungguk #jungkook #min yoongi #jungkook seven #park jimin #bts jungkook #jungkook golden #bighit #bts #taehyung #suchwita #Youtube

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cc-horan28 · 3 months

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Be My Valentine - 9

The Wind, It Held Your Soul

(T) 1.7k

WW2 AU Soldier!Louis Tomlinson x Doctor!Harry Styles (3/3)

Tw death, implied time period accurate homophobia

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper.

Harry is widowed in a time he cannot even accept it in public.

A/N: A huge thank you to Ash for helping me figure out the ending! And I love you Nashie and Anna for being there when I was having breakdowns over this! And ofc, ty to Akeyla for holding this fest and these amazing prompts just ah!

Title from Louis’ ‘Holding On To Heartache’!

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper.

He had run from the stables as fast as he could when he’d heard the cook, Mrs O’Leary calling out to him. It had been months since he’d been sent back after a shell landed at the hospital Harry was working in, onfield. He had been waiting so long. He had thought it was a letter- from-

Louis. His Louis.

A sob racked his body as he bent over, paper crumpling as his fist closed down, nails digging into his palm. The pain was the only thing grounding him right now.

He had to give it everything he had to hold back from screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut, pawing at his eyes with his closed fist. Louis won’t like- wouldn’t- Another wave of anger passed through him as he sobbed, not caring if anyone heard him.

His Louis. The telegram wasn’t even sent to him. Of course it wouldn’t. To them they were nothing. To them they didn’t- couldn’t even exist. None of that mattered. None of it mattered. He wouldn’t even get to hold a funeral for him. He couldn’t face the idea of burying an empty coffin, of having to pretend he was just a coworker- a friend. Like he wasn’t there for the only man he’d ever loved.

He had no idea how long he stayed curled up like that, lost in thoughts of LouisLouisLouis. It was the cold that finally forced him to sit up, head freezing from where he had been resting it against the glass.

He couldn’t even face moving away from the bay window, going near the fireplace. That would involve seeing Louis’ sofa.

Harry remembered how he would climb onto him, slotting himself onto the single-seater, legs tangled with his, toasting crumpets by the fire, sipping the tea Harry didn’t even like but had anyway, just to keep Louis company.

This bay window was Louis’ idea. ‘So we can sit together properly’, he used to say with that grin of his, eyes all crinkled up, ‘Without you squashing me,’- Harry ran his hand over the soft leather, smoothened by the years of use. Everything was his, wasn’t it-

He exhaled shudderingly, distantly surprised when he saw it fogging up in front of him.

His face was cold, tear tracks feeling icy on his skin. He eased his grip on the paper, hugging one of the pillows to his chest as he glanced down,

WESTERN UNION

DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT CAPTAIN LOUIS TOMLINSON IS OFFICIALLY REPORTED AS KILLED IN ACTION JULY NINTH.

Tears welled up, clouding his vision as he clutched the pillow closer, burying his face in it. He cried loudly, beyond caring if anyone heard him, wailing out Louis’ name plaintively.

He breathed deeply when he pulled back, feeling slightly dizzy. He could have sworn he smelled jasmine and cinnamon. Hints of the Brumes perfume Louis liked- had liked- to wear at home.

Sure, it had said pour femme on the little bottle, he thought with a small, sad smile; but Louis never cared. Neither of them did.

He vaguely registered the insistent knocking on the door and curled up with his back to it, holding on to the pillow.

“Harold. Harry, please.” he heard Gemma say, slowly, like she was measuring each word out, but the slight tremor in her voice gave her away “Harry, don’t isolate yourself. I know- I understand you need space. And time. But this isn’t what Louis would have wanted,”

Harry barely registered what her next words were, all coherent thoughts drowned out by the rush of anger he felt.

“Don’t you take his name, not just to console me,” he shouted, stalking across the room and throwing the door open, “Don’t take his name, Gemma. Not when you brought me this godforsaken piece of paper.” He waved the said paper around, tears milling in his eyes despite the anger he felt. He knew his anger at his sister wasn’t justified, but he couldn’t care less.

“Don’t,” he repeated, voice breaking as he collapsed onto the ground, sitting on his haunches with his head in his hands.

“Louis,” he cried, slumping onto the ground, legs a tangle, the carpet cold under him.

He felt Gemma crouch beside him, whispering something that he didn’t quite understand over his own voice, but he stood up when she did, letting himself be led to the sofa by the fireplace.

She didn’t say anything, just gently combed through his hair as he stared at Louis’ sofa.

Louis’ sofa

It hit him at once, and this time he couldn’t even choke out any sounds. Louis’ sofa which wasn’t his anymore. Where he wouldn’t sit anymore.

Harry was grateful for her silence, her company. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was left alone right now. He couldn’t fathom why he had wanted her to leave. Not her too-

He felt tears silently run down his face, gruelling visions of Louis alone somewhere, over the Channel, lying in a field threatening to swallow him. He tried to push the thoughts away, curling up into his sister, pulling his feet up, and taking shaky breaths to try and calm himself.

They sat there, Harry quietly hiccupping as he felt his tears dry up, only to be replaced by anger. It wasn’t aimed at Gemma this time, though.

“I didn’t even get the telegram,” he said, voice raspy already, “They didn’t even send it to me. My husband is gone, and they couldn’t even send me a fucking telegram,” His voice was rising, and he felt himself shaking with the intensity of all that he felt.

“Harry,” Gemma breathed out, sighing deeply and choosing not to say anymore. Harry needed to get it out of his system.

“They couldn’t because that would mean acknowledging us. They’re too busy pretending we don’t fucking exist and throwing those who protest into jails. I don’t want to erase him, Gem. I don’t want to erase us,” he broke off, closing his eyes as he bent over, forehead resting on his knees as he finally let himself think of Louis, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks.

“I’m not going to pretend,” he said, toying with the congealed dried eggs on his plate, like it was the most natural conversation to have. Like he hadn’t not said a word for two days. “We’ll hold a proper service for him. And I won’t pretend. I won’t talk about how great a person he was, or what a good soldier he was,”

His voice was raspy from disuse, throat raw from all the crying and screaming he’d done, bouncing between mad anger and complete desolation. He took the glass of orange juice Gemma offered with a silent nod.

She had been an angel, a constant presence, never invading his space, giving him the time he needed to process while still being a rock he could anchor to.

He took a small sip, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill. He would have time for all that later, but he wanted Louis to have a proper send-off, and so would his sisters. And he knew Louis would have done the same, had the tables been turned. Had it been him killed on the Somme.

He quickly brushed the tears away, almost angry at himself.

“It’s okay if there’s another service, an official one, for everyone else. But I won’t attend it,” he said as firmly as he could in his state, “Everyone who knew, who cared about him- about us- we’ll have a separate service.”

That was all he could muster up the strength to say. Gemma stood up, patting his shoulder and kissing his cheek lightly. “He would be proud,” she whispered, “And so am I. I’ll give you some time. Ring for me if you want to talk,”

He pushed the plate away, watching Gemma’s retreating figure silently. He folded his arms and buried his head in them.

He was used to the silence by now.

He closed his eyes as he threw the last handful of dirt, face tilted up as he let the sun warm his face. The tears coursing down his cheeks still stung against the wind, but the golden glow he saw from behind his eyelids made it just a bit more bearable. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if it was grey and rainy.

Sunny days were Louis’ favorite, Harry thought, biting down on his lower lip. He used to love heading off to Kensington, getting some fresh rolls on their way there and having them by the pond. They always had to sit just a bit too far away, and still got suspicious glares from passersby, but Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way.

None of it changed the fact that Louis was gone and Harry doubted if he would ever entirely come to terms with it. With never seeing his eyes crinkle with laughter, or hear him singing his versions of Vera Lynn’s songs. With never waking up to him sipping his awful unsweetened tea next to him, newspaper rustling as he bent down to kiss him. With never seeing him again.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Louis was always the romantic between them, talks of a beautiful after, free from pain and discrimination and everything they hated being brought up whenever they got even vaguely theological, or drunk, or both.

He couldn’t help but chuckle weakly, thinking back to those evenings together.

Some day, he would see Louis again. The jasmine in the air, with not a bloom in sight was a testament to that.

They would never fade away. But for now, the silence would have to do.

A/N: again, I'm so sorry i don't know what possessed me to write this. Don't go and reread the first post. No matter what

Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

#bemyvalentine2024 #bemyvalentineno9 #widowed #larry stylinson #tw death #tw implied homophobia #Harry Styles #Louis Tomlinson #WW2 AU #angst #so much angst #hlcreators #hltracks #hlficlibrary #sorry for the ending #larry fics #larry fanfiction #larry angst #one direction

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cherrythepuppet · 9 months

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my Corpse Puppet fanfic [Part 3]

Corpse Puppet belongs to @sketchquill (probably sick of me showing up so much lol) and this chapter is written in ze past! Ha ha

"Wally you can't love her you just met!" (Y/n) told him "You sound like my mother" Wally mumbled "Maybe I do but that's because I'm just looking out for you" (Y/n) said in a calm voice as they put a hand on his shoulderWally took their hand off "If you were really my friend then you would be supportive wouldn't you?" He asked

"Wally you just met! She could be a murderer for all we know!" (Y/n) yelledTheir patience was getting thinner and thinner "And?! Nobody that perfect can be a killer!" Wally yelled back "You know what?! I think your just jealous because someone loves me and not you-" he paused

He realized what he said and his eyes widened when he saw small tears in (Y/n)'s eyes"Fine...Fine! Go marry her! Because if you die I'm not coming to your funeral! And all I'll tell you is I told you so!" (Y/n) yelled before stomping off

"(Y/n)! I didn't mean it!" Wally yelled but (Y/n) wasn't listening "What have I done..." he mumbled "What have I done?" He repeated "Maybe they were right...I shouldn't marry someone I just met" he said to himself"I'll go meet Julie and tell her it's off" Wally said as he looked at the direction of where (Y/n) left

"And then I'll go apologize to Hermosa" he addedHe headed off into the forest specifically the area where he, (Y/n) and cherry would all hang out in when they were ten He stood by the big oak tree where he waited and waited for Julie Then He heard a branch snap causing him to think it was Julie

As he turned around he saw nobody there, Wally sighed as he turned back around only to see Julie standing right in front of him gripping on an AxeWally shuddered at the sight of the axe and the deranged look in Julie's eyes. He backed away slowly, trying not to seem frightened

"J-Julie", he stuttered, "What are you doing with that axe?""You are one of the most gullible men I've met...it didn't even take me as long as I was expecting to get you to fall for me!" Julie exclaimed Wally gulped, his fear growing. "Julie, c-calm down", he pleaded

"I'm sure we can work this out! Please put the axe down" He took another step back, his heart pounding in his chest"No I am afraid we can't" Julie chuckled as her grip on the axe became tighter

"You really should have listened to your friend" she said as she slowly walked towards Wally backing him into the old oak treeWally froze, a wave of horror washing over him as he realized he was trapped against the tree with no way out. He frantically searched for anything in his pockets he could use as a weapon, but he came up empty handed

Julie advanced towards him, the axe still clutched tightly in her hands. She was now close enough to see the insanity in her eyes. She stopped in front of Wally, her breath hitching. "I'm so sorry, my 'love' oh wait! I'm not!" she whispered, raising the axe above his head

Wally flinched as the axe came at him with lightning speed. He raised his arms to protect his face from the blow, the last thing he saw were the crazed eyes of his former 'lover'bWith a sickening crunch, the axe struck into his head, and Wally's world went black

Wally layed on the ground, dead and forgotten. His life had been cruelly cut short by one act of betrayal. He would never know the love of another againNow his body was nothing but dust, his heart broken into pieces with no hope of ever being healed

A dark end to a life that was cut far too shortJulie watched as wally's body fell to the ground, the axe still in her hands, kneeling next to the body as she rifled through his pockets, taking out his jewels and leaving his heart brokenWhen she finished, she stood up and wiped the blood off the axe before throwing it at the oak tree, then slowly walked away, leaving his body behind....

#corpse puppet au #wally darling #welcome home au #wally darling x reader

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rebeccathenaturalist · 10 months

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Why Have All the Birds Stopped Singing?

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/why-have-all-the-birds-stopped-singing/

Summer is nearly halfway through, and while the days are still long there are already changes hinting at fall’s arrival. The heat causes some of the leaves on trees and shrubs to begin to turn just a little, and the sunset is a bit earlier each evening. One phenomenon that often startles people is when they realize that–seemingly overnight–the birds stopped singing.

Now, it’s not unusual for them to quiet down when a predator passes by (that includes us big, scary humans, by the way.) After all, they don’t want to be noticed by something that would happily turn them into a snack. But with each passing week there are fewer birdsongs in the daily chorus, and by the end of August pretty much all the birds stopped singing. Why is that?

Well, first we need to look at why birds sing in the first place. I start noticing songs late in winter, and then the diversity and frequency build up throughout spring. This is correlated with nesting season. Both male and female birds sing, though male songs have historically been given more attention.

Songs serve to establish and protect territory in which mated pairs of birds build their nests; birds of the same species know that this spot is taken, move along, please–or else. And they also help birds to attract their mate for the year; male songs in particular have been studied in this regard. So what sounds like lovely music to us is serious business for birds, meaning either “Hey, baby, check ME out!” or “GET OFF MY LAWN!” (Birdsong is also more surprisingly complex than we had assumed!)

The singing continues throughout nesting season. Some species of bird only raise one clutch of young a year, especially those whose young may take several weeks to fledge. Others, especially many songbirds, can raise two or even three clutches a year, seeing their young fledge and leave the nest within two weeks of hatching. As long as the nest is active, the parent birds work actively to protect it, to include re-establishing residency through song.

There is, of course, a risk associated with singing. Birds aren’t the only animals noticing the singer; predators also use these songs to home in on a potential meal. Singing does increase the likelihood of becoming prey, but it’s effective enough in helping spread one’s genes that it’s worth the risk from an evolutionary perspective. A bird that gets nabbed while singing near a nest is more likely to have passed its genes through at least one clutch of eggs, and if the surviving parent can get some of the young to fledgling age, then they have a good chance of surviving to spread the singing genes on to the next generation.

As soon as the nest is empty for the year, and the last batch of young have successfully fledged, the birds stopped singing. Why keep bringing attention to yourself when you no longer need to? It’s time to transition to non-breeding behavior patterns, whether that means a solitary existence, or a social group for winter.

But there’s another reason birds quiet down this time of year. By this point, their feathers are pretty beat up from their spring migration (even many resident species still engage in local migrations), and then defending their nests and literally running themselves ragged getting food for demanding, hungry young. They have to prepare for the fall migration, which for many species is a marathon thousands of miles long to their wintering grounds.

If you’re a bird whose flight feathers in your wings and tail are torn and even broken, you aren’t going to be a very efficient flier. Each wingbeat is going to cost you more energy, and on a long journey that inefficiency can be fatal. So July and the first part of August are prime times for North American birds to molt, shedding out old feathers and growing fresh new ones. By the time they’re ready for liftoff for the fall migration–or simply surviving winter’s cold right here–those shiny, undamaged feathers are going to be the perfect tools for energy-efficient flight. By saving valuable calories, they increase the likelihood that they’ll survive to see another breeding season next year.

This northern mockingbird (Mimus polyglottos) looks a little sad with a bare head–but don’t worry, those feathers will grow back soon!

But while they’re molting, they’re going to be additionally hindered in flight. That makes them even more vulnerable to predation. So this is another great reason for birds to quiet down as summer winds on. (They also may look a little silly, and while they probably don’t feel embarrassed about losing all the feathers on their head, I wouldn’t blame them if they were, in fact, a little self-conscious about it.)

Never fear, though–once late winter arrives next year, we’ll get to start hearing our birds warming up their syrinxes again, and soon the mornings will be full of the dawn chorus, fresh and new.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#birds #birdblr #ornithology #birdsong #birbs #nature #wildlife #animals #animal behavior #wild animals #ecology #phenology #science #sci comm #science communication #biology #wildlife biology

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onlygenxhere · 5 months

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Happy Juke Jeudi! I wanted to list a few juke Christmas themed fics for this Juke Jeudi for anyone that might be interested. I got a little help from @missjoolee and @preoccupied-educator. I’ve read most of these but not all. The following are listed in word count/size order, shortest to longest.

links under the cut

Peppermint and Chocolate by sanssssastark rated T

He’s wanted to kiss Julie since he was thirteen years old and waiting three years to kiss someone leads to expectations of what that kiss might be like. Turns out, it was way better than every fantasy he ever had. Her lips were soft and warm and her hand clutched at his arm, curling around his bicep and he wished he’d worn a shirt without sleeves because he’d have given anything to feel her touch against his skin. The kiss was everything he imagined it would be.

He just never thought it would leave him this confused.

Christmas lodge by darylvdixon not rated but it’s G

Julie and Luke meet when both their families book to spend Christmas in a lodge on the mountains. It's love at first sight and they spend the whole of their holidays together.

Let Your Heart Be Light by MamiRugbee rated T

With Christmas approaching, Julie decides she wants to pay a visit to Emily Patterson. Unfortunately, Luke realizes things aren’t exactly how he remembers them.

call me babe for the weekend by blushandbooks rated M (and locked for ao3 members)

Julie Molina, Grammy-winning popstar and reluctant Seattle native, returns home to her family and old friends for Christmas - and also to escape rumors and drama back in Los Angeles.

Old friends include Luke Patterson: The ex-boyfriend she left behind for LA and the promise of a blossoming music career. Only, the music career is not what she wanted it to be, and Los Angeles has turned from a welcome escape to an unlikely prison, and the only place she wants to run to is the place (and the person) that knows her best.

At the end of the day, she'll just run back to LA and forget about Seattle all over again.

But the city, and Luke, have more of a grip on her than she expected.

Blame It On the Mistletoe by Courty rated T

In the two years since they met, Julie and Luke have been dancing around the connection between them, both too afraid they'll ruin the other's life they've worked so hard to build.

Good thing they have some friends who decide a little Christmas magic is in order.

all i want for christmas is you by ruzekhalstead rated T

when julie finds herself in a situation where she needs luke to come home with her to celebrate christmas with her family, he is more than happy to oblige. too bad julie's already in love with him, and not sure when she stopped pretending.

holiday au

"the entire family is getting together for christmas and she just assumed i was bringing my boyfriend and then when i tried to explain, she mentioned you by name and i just kind of blanked and basically, my whole family thinks you're my boyfriend and you're coming to spend christmas with me."

"cool. when do we leave?"

Ladder to the Stars: A Juke Christmas Story by SeaStarStories rated T

Julie books a quiet winter retreat, but a typo has her turning up at the wrong cabin. Then a major snowstorm forces her to stay with Luke, whether she likes it or not. The problem is she likes it.

'Tis the Damn Season (hear me out) by IMaketheMonsters rated M

There’s nothing like coming home the week of Christmas and discovering you’re still in love with a worm-eater.

OR: the Home for the Holidays!AU that no one asked for

those cold December nights by Labyrinthinee rated M

Sure, Luke's life hadn’t turned out exactly how he wanted it to.

If anybody had told his eighteen-year-old self, that ten years down the road, he’d spent a Friday evening at his friend’s home, not on stage at some shady club, rocking his heart out, Luke would’ve never believed them. But, he couldn’t say that he was unhappy. He had a good job, amazing friends and was invited to dinner at his parents’ place once a week. So, to be frank, he wouldn’t change a thing.

Of course, that's when Julie Molina stumbled back into his life.

the lucky one (i think it might be you) by itsagamefortwo rated T

“So you know who I am then,” it’s not really a question but Luke shrugs anyway, turning to glance at her quickly before looking back at the road.

“And you know who I am,” he pauses so long Julie thinks that’s all he’ll say on the matter but then he speaks again, and she can just make out the hints of a smile through the shadows on his face, “Reggie posts a lot on instagram stories. You’re in a lot of them.”

“I recognised your hat. From your christmas card,” she offers and feels her own lips pulling into a smile at his bark of laughter. aka julie needs to get the hell out of la for a few days and finds herself in a small town with a familiar face just as a snow storm rolls in.

While You Were Sleeping by ICanSpellConfusionWithAK rated T

AU of the romcom While You Were Sleeping.

Julie doesn't have a lot going for her other than her fantasies about Nick, the cute guy she sees at work and her dreams of marrying him one day. When she saves his life only for him to end up in a coma with his family thinking she's actually his fiancee things get really complicated really fast. They get even more complicated once she meets his brother Luke and the two start to fall for each other. Julie just needs to wait for Nick to wake up and get back to her normal life only things are never that simple. It's time for Julie to decide what...and who...she really wants.

Merry Ex-Mas by Bluefire510 rated T

The one thing Julie Molina hates more than Christmas is Luke Patterson, her former boyfriend and current pain in the ass.

But when her little brother and his best friend embark on a journey to the North Pole for Operation: Save Santa, she's forced to team up with her ex to wrangle them back home in time for Christmas.

It goes as well as expected...

Inspired by the book 'Ex-Mas' written by Kate Brian.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #happy juke jeudi!#juke christmas fics #fic recs #there are of course way more than the few listed here #this is just a few suggestions #feel free to reblog with any of your favorite juke christmas fics

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ten-cent-sleuth · 10 months

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A Galling Yoke, Part 8

<- Prev | Next ->

for the “You’re just in love with the idea of being in love” and “Do you want me to leave?” squares on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.2k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t think.

With a mere half-dozen words, Sherlock had shattered the fragile dynamic you had so carefully pieced back together for you two. After fifteen years apart… Why would he—? How could he—?

“I am in love with you.”

The words echoed in your head, rippling from end to end of your skull as an earthquake rips through a city. Sherlock was still speaking, one hand on his waist and the other gesticulating, but those six words had submerged you in water—boiling, acidic water—and you heard nothing past them.

“I am in love with you.”

You had been completely, woefully caught off guard by Sherlock’s declaration. He had shown up at your doorstep two days after you had last seen each other—the day you had met Miss Algar together—which had been unexpected as well, though not shocking: Sherlock had taken to showing up whenever he wished, and even Mr Rogers was becoming inured to his abruptness. Having assumed the detective had made headway in hunting down the hitman, you had eagerly welcomed him into your sitting room; your excitement had wilted into worry as he had gotten up from his chair after only a few moments then begun pacing silently. You had only just thought of a tactful way to ask him what was the matter when he had blurted out—

“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. We were separated for a decade and a half, I know, but I never stopped thinking—caring—about you, and I have recently understood that these feelings have been of a…have all these years been of a romantic nature. My lady, I am in love with you.”

Blast.

It was a good thing you were sitting.

In love with you…?

The last time you had heard those words, they had been out of the mouth of slimy, toadying Mr Sulyard, back when he had offered for your hand. He had been lying through his teeth. He had known it; you had known it; however, you had also known that your father would have given you no choice but to accept, so you had lied through your teeth right back with a humbly delighted yes. Edmund, “in love with you” as he was, had been good to you in public and anything but behind closed doors.

“I am in love with you.”

To this day, Edmund’s family happily remained ignorant of their son and brother’s blatant derision and cruelty, although they espoused how much they admired your personality and your accomplishments whenever you saw them. Your own father claimed to be pleased with how you turned out and to care about your wellbeing, yet he imposed his desires above all else.

“I am in love with you.”

Even William had never chosen you before his comfort. He had expressed his concern when he had heard of your and Edmund’s engagement, knowing a little of the man’s reputation from Harrow and a lot of your ill-matched disposition. Despite this worry for you, he had not stood up for you, not when it would mean fighting with Lord Coltidge, not when it mattered most to you.

And Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

Dearest, most beloved Sherlock—

“I am in love with you.”

How could he have forgotten what he had done to make you discredit love, or at least distrust that anybody loved you?

Through your agony, you closed your mouth from where it had been hanging open, then you clutched your hands in your lap to stay their trembling, then you lifted your eyes to finally meet Sherlock’s.

“My resolve to tell you these things hardened when I realised I was struggling to focus through your absence these last couple of…”

He paused his speech once your gazes locked, and when he smiled gently at you, you forgot you were supposed to be thinking of a response. Then he spoke: “Of course, we cannot do aught about it until this case is over.”

You blinked. The utter pragmatism of such a statement within a romantic spiel jarred on you. “What— What do you mean?”

“We must focus on the case, then we may settle all personal matters.” He waved a dismissive hand. “The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning; we must not let them get in the way.”

And suddenly, sharply, you remembered the pain he had caused you—was, apparently, still causing you—and laughed. It was a too-big, too-loud thing, with haphazard edges and a dangerous echo, and it brought tears to your eyes.

This time, Sherlock blinked at you. “Why do you laugh?”

“Sir, you need not worry about being too emotional during this investigation,” you said, “for I can settle this business matter for you straightaway. It would appear to me, Mr Holmes, that you are simply in love with the idea of being in love.”

At that, he actually scoffed. “That is ridiculous. Why would I want to be in love? It deludes the perfectly reasonable mind; it softens one’s senses, warps one’s thoughts. If I could avoid it, I would.”

You ground your teeth for a moment before speaking to make sure your voice remained even. “That is precisely the reason. Despite your attempts to void your heart of tender feelings, you know you long for a profound bond with the perfect companion—you know you could be happy in such a relationship. Above all, you know you are happy now that you think you have found it.”

“Perhaps you have the right of it,” he said. “Yet would you expect me to rejoice in a shallow bond with an imperfect companion?”

The icy exterior you had pulled around yourself cracked—was he speaking of you and Edmund? Was he truly critiquing you for accepting such a bond with such a companion?

He arched an eyebrow. “Ought I to congratulate myself on the hope of a relationship that would decidedly add wretched complexity to my life?”

The ice broke apart entirely. “Is that why you left me?” you demanded. “Coming to London for me would have been wretchedly complex?”

His countenance darkened. “You left me, my lady. I waited for your return to Ferndell for months—I counted the days, pathetic me!—and in your stead, I received notice of your engagement to another man.”

“I had little choice in that,” you exclaimed, “and I had no ability at all to go back to you. How could I, a young lady with no money and no chaperone, make it all the way down a London street, never mind onto a public conveyance to Shropshire? You, the gentleman, were the one with the power to come to me!”

Shaking his head, Sherlock moved away to stare out the window. Before you could decide whether to stand and follow him, he said, quietly but with a strong and sweeping undercurrent, “What power, petal? I promised you that I would not hold you back. I promised you that I was nothing short of glad that you would get a come-out ball and a curtsy before the queen like all the proper rich ladies do. I promised you that I would happily let you go if you found a proper rich gentleman at some party that suited you better than I. Those promises took all the power I had.”

With a shaky breath, you pressed a hand to your sternum, vain as the attempt was to keep your heart from falling apart. “You… You also promised me that you wanted to marry me, that you would protect and provide for me. You promised me that you loved me, Sherlock.”

He whirled around. “You promised me the same, my lady.”

“And I do!” Your hands flew to grip the armrests at your sides. “That is, I did— I…”

His gaze softening, he stepped towards you. “Petal…”

You pushed yourself to your feet and looked away from him. “What does it matter how I feel or felt? Though I did not need you to rescue me, I did want you to fight for me.” You met his eyes. “That you did not—that the love you felt for me was so easily given up on—is a fact, and fact comes before feelings, does it not, Mr Holmes?”

He frowned. “Do not throw my words back at—”

“They are not merely your words, sir, they are your core values and their consequences! You only commit as far as reason goes; once logic dictates the chances are uncertain, you become uncertain.”

His frown deepened, but he did not respond.

“I do not want someone to choose me when it is sensible, Sherlock,” you said, softly, desperately. “I want to be chosen when it is totally nonsense, through total nonsense. Was it not nonsensical of me to pray for you to show up before the wedding so you could tell my father I had another acceptable option? Was it not downright imbecilic of me to sit and stare out the window and wait for you after Edmund died? Still I did those very things, all the while you…you could not even accept the risk of visiting me to see if I was all right.”

“We…” His voice trembles, you noted with disbelief. “We have another chance now.”

You shook your head, straining on your neck, weighty on your shoulders. “Another chance to be friends, perhaps. But, Sherlock, you are still uncomfortable with coming to me if it means stepping beyond reason, and I… I ought not to ask more of you than you can give.”

“No,” he said, crossing the room in two strides. “No, my lady, ask— Demand everything you would of me, I—”

A knock came at the sitting room door.

You took a moment to consider Sherlock’s pleading look, then turned away and sighed, “Come in.”

Rogers opened the door but barely had time to announce, “Lord Coltidge for you, my lady,” before the earl himself was striding into the room.

“Daughter,” he said, “I care not that you have another visitor; I am your father and you shall speak with me. How could you have stained the Voss family name so recklessly, you—” He stopped short when he finally noticed Sherlock. “Holmes? What—?”

“My lord,” he greeted. “I apologise. It would appear I am her ladyship’s other visitor.”

Your father, brow furrowing, looked between you and Sherlock a few times. “You are here about the case?”

“No,” he replied.

“Yes,” you said at the same time.

Sherlock blinked. “Er, that is, yes, your lordship, I am here about Mr Sulyard’s death. I wished to inform my lady of developments of a…of an idea she gave me some days previous.”

“Is that so?” He turned cutting eyes onto you. “Would this idea be that your husband was seeking satisfaction in another woman’s bed?”

As you flushed hotly, Sherlock stepped in front of you, blocking your father’s view. “Lord Coltidge!” he cried. “Such vulgarity is hardly appropriate in a lady’s hearing, is it? Besides, I can scarcely credit that you would rather shame your own daughter rather than the gentleman who would dishonour his word by breaking his vows.”

You gulped—you had never seen your father turn that particular shade before.

“I think you best leave us now, sir,” snarled the earl.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” retorted Sherlock, sticking his finger in the air with all the confidence of someone who actually had authority to warn anybody here. “Officially, you have no say in this house; it has been her ladyship’s property for a decade.” Then, he turned around to give you his full attention. “Petal, do you want me to leave?”

He was so soft in that moment, in his voice and in his eyes, that you nearly shook your head. Indeed, your heart pleaded for him to remain, for the bubble of safety that came with his presence to not be burst. But he couldn’t remain. You couldn’t afford relying on him in such a vulnerable position—you simply weren’t ready to pick yourself off the floor if you leaned on him and he walked away once again.

“We have had a…trying conversation,” you whispered to him. “Perhaps you would like to go home and relax now.”

His eyes were stormy as he glanced at Lord Coltidge and muttered, “What I would like to do is…,” but they cleared when he focused on you and sighed, “…whatever you would prefer, my lady.”

You smiled your gratitude towards him, but you knew it was cold comfort as he stalked past the earl with an unhesitatingly aimed dark look. He paused at the door to say over his shoulder, “I shall keep you apprised of my progress.”

“Good man,” replied Lord Coltidge, though you knew Sherlock was speaking to you.

You held your breath, waiting to meet Sherlock’s gaze once more, but he quitted the room and closed the door with nary a glance back. Although you suddenly felt more brittle than you ever had, you squared your shoulders and turned towards your father.

“Good afternoon, sir. Please, take a seat. How is it that I have stained the family name this time?”

Thank you for reading. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter lmaooo. I hope y’all enjoyed the Jane Austen and Arthur Conan Doyle quotes? :P Feedback is always welcome!

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

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revasserium · 1 year

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118 with daichi? ::

reqs are open :)

118. the power of goodbye

daichi; 2,349 words; teeth-rotting fluff u__u 4 times you say goodbye, and 1 time you say hello instead "what was it like to lose him? asked sorrow. there was a long pause before i responded: it was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me -- said all at once" -- lang leav, love and misadventure

01. “bye! see you next week!”

you’re waving at him, standing on your tiptoes, your other hand caught in your mother’s palm as daichi waves back just as furiously. you are both seven years old and somehow, both your mothers had thought to sign you up for after school art lessons.

“see you!” daichi sighs as he turns back to peer up at his mom, frowning slightly, “mom… i don’t think i’m very good at drawing…”

“ah? but dai-chan, i thought you liked coming to art classes? you’re always so excited!”

daichi furrows his brows as he and his mom start on their slow trek home, up two blocks, turning right onto the main street where daichi knows he’ll pass by the convenience store he likes with the iced milk pops.

“i… i like coming here cause i like my friends! but…” he kicks at the ground, a half-crumpled picture clutched in his other hand. his mother laughs lightly, taking the picture and smoothing it out with her hands.

“mah… as long as you’re having a good time, i think that’s all that matters.”

daichi pouts, pressing his lips, because yes… he supposes having fun is… well, fun, but being good at something is fun too!

he thinks about how your eyes glitter whenever the teacher hands out a fresh, new piece of paper, how eager you are to grab at the crayons and markers, how your tongue gets stuck between your teeth when you’re scribbling color across a page, like you could take the whole world and put right there on the shiny, white surface. sometimes, he thinks you can.

he wonders if he’ll ever find something that makes him feel like that.

“do you still want to come back next week then?

daichi starts, looking up at his mom with wide eyes.

“of course i do! i wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

02. “so… practice, right?” you ask, your hands laced behind your back as daichi shrugs, laughing, scratching at the back of his neck.

“yeah… but i’ll see you after your traditional arts club right?” he pauses at the end of the hallway that leads towards the volleyball gym. you teeter on the balls of your feet, your hair in twin pigtails near the nape of your neck. once, daichi had felt the urge to tug on them constantly, back when the pair of you were still in elementary school, but now that he’s in middle school, he’s decided that it’s high time at like the grown up that he is.

so he settles for a shy smile as you nod and wave at him, jogging off back towards the school’s main building.

“see you!” you shout, even as you disappear from around a corner and he’s left with his hand aloft, blinking after you.

“sawamura? what’re you staring at?” ikejiri blinks as he peers around the doors to the gym.

“oh! nothing — coming!” daichi blushes as he hurries to join ikejiri, casting one last look over his shoulder at the place where you’d been standing.

03. the summer sun blows itself out over the flat of the horizon, the july air sticky with humidity and the lingering taste of possibilities.

“so… where are you going next year?”

you turn your head to look at him, your hair done up in two neat plaits, the ends pinned to the sides of your head so as to keep them from tickling your neck. he tugs lightly on one of the loops; you let your head lilt to one side, offering no resistance as he pulls his hand back.

daichi casts his eyes up at the dying light of a fading sky and grins.

“karasuno! remember when we saw them on tv the other day?”

“oh yeah! they’re the team that went to nationals in tokyo, right?”

“yep! and… i wanna go there one day!”

daichi catches himself, feeling a blush work its way into his cheeks as he looks back down at his hands, resting over the worn old volleyball in his lap.

“don’t worry, you will.”

your voice is a splash of cold water, and he finds himself shivering. he looks up to meet your eyes, and he almost doesn’t want to ask. he doesn’t want to know —

“so… where are you going?”

you purse your lips.

“mom said her job’s moving her to tokyo so…” you shrug, “probably somewhere there…”

and then, painfully, startlingly, you laugh.

daichi’s head jerks up at the sound.

“but when you make it to nationals, then… you’ll be there too!”

he blinks at the smile on your face, too bright for the darkness of the oncoming night.

“r-right! so, i’ll see you then!”

he lets out a laugh too, though it sounds a bit too loud, a bit too forced. you smile nodding.

“i’ll see you then.”

it takes daichi half the walk home to realize that you hadn’t said “if” but “when”.

04. [daichi]: dont stay up too late studying! college entrance exams aren’t till next year!!

[you]: easy for u to say (¬_¬)… u’ll just get a sports scholarship or something…

[daichi]:… p sure im not but okay

[you]: p sure national-leveled athletes get scholarships bUt oKaY

[daichi]: p sure we haven’t made it to nationals yet

[daichi]: go to sleep.

[you]: no, u („• ֊ •„)

[you]: did u fall asleep

[daichi]: (－_－) zzZ

[you]: okies gnight! (─‿‿─)♡

daichi stares at the heart at the end of your message for way too long and tries not to read too much into it.

he stays up all night reading into it anyway.

05. “so… she’s gonna be here. at nationals. to watch you.”

“yes suga. that’s what i said.”

“okay but i wanna make sure you know what you said because from what you said, it sounds like she’s super into you and you’re just refusing to —”

“it’s not like that! w-we’re just old friends —!”

“ah… i know it might not be my place to say this but… it does sound like she might be interested…”

“ha! see? even asahi says so!”

“wha — when did this become a group discussion?!”

“huh? what are you guys talkin’ bout over here? is it that girl daichi-san’s always texting?”

“nishinoya! don’t say that so loudly! and — i’m not always texting her —”

“wait!!! are we finally meeting daichi-san’s mystery girlfriend?”

“tanaka! shut up! and she’s not —”

“daichi?”

daichi freezes and the next moment, several things happen all at once — suga gasps, tanaka stops dead in his tracks, asahi nearly bowls him over, and nishinoya smacks straight into asahi’s back, sending all of them toppling forward like a series of badly placed dominos and it’s all daichi can do to sidestep the mess before they drag him down as well.

but there you are, standing feet from him, watching all this unfold with that same amused smile on your face, with the same bright, sharp eyes he’d always remembered, and god — you look so similar and yet so… so different.

two and a half years has never looked so good, he thinks, as he swallows hard and tries to find something to say.

finally, he settles on, “h-hey! long… long time…”

you laugh, and it’s all he can do not to melt into the sound. because that — that hasn’t changed one bit — the sound still warm and sweet as a spring morning. it shakes through him, breaks him open like the sun over a cracking dawn — he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“yeah, no kidding! but…” you trail off as you take a few steps closer, your eyes flickering over his face, lingering on the broadness of his shoulders, the straightness of his spine, “kinda feels like no time’s passed at all, hm?”

daichi can’t help it — he blushes, clearing his throat as he averts his eyes.

behind him, suga is muttering something and he hears the distinct sounds of the rest of the team being shooed away and for once, he’s thankful that suga pulls his weight as vice captain when it really, really matters.

“i mean, two years is a long time,” he says, feeling suddenly too young and too old all at once, his stomach roiling inside him. he thought he’d have mastered nerves by now; he’s faced down mountains that no one had ever thought they’d summit but somehow… this… this is different.

“it is… you look good,” you say, grinning as you take another few steps forward, as if testing the waters, pushing the line of demarcation closer, and then ever closer. he doesn’t step back though it takes almost everything inside him to hold his ground.

“wow, you’re taller,” you laugh, looking up at him, now close enough for him to touch — reaching out a palm from the top of your head to just below his chin, “much taller…”

your voice is softer, then, like a sigh, a whisper, an admission of sorts. and it’s only then that daichi notices he’s not the only one blushing.

he coughs, swallows, flexes his fingers and forces himself to speak.

“y-you look different too — i mean, good different! you’re… uh — your hair is — longer and —”

daichi fights down the urge to curse, to turn around and run, to lay down on the ground right then and there and pray for the earth to carve itself open so he can fall into it’s dark, unending depths —

you blink, a slow, teasing smile spreading across your lips and daichi finds himself caught, as a thread on a chain-link fence, he looks at you and laughs, helpless, shaking his head.

“sorry… it’s just…” he casts about for words he isn’t quite sure he has. you shake your head, grinning.

“no, it’s fine — i know… it’s a little weird, isn’t it? i mean, two years is a really long time.”

“yeah but… like you said, somehow, it doesn’t really feel like… any time’s passed at all.”

daichi finds his hand reaching up before he can stop himself, almost like second nature, his fingers grazing the ends of your hair, now skimming halfway down your chest, twisted in a loose braid over one of your shoulders.

“it really did get longer but i cut it recently — you should’ve seen it before —” you laugh, looking down at where his fingers are still outstretched, reaching up your own hand to tug at the freshly trimmed ends.

“so… do you uhm — you still do art, right?” daichi asks, tucking both his hands into his pockets.

“yeah! and… you finally made it to nationals. congrats!” you wave an arm around the pair of you, and for a second, daichi had almost forgotten where the two of you were, standing in the bustling entrance hall of one of tokyo’s largest gymnasiums, all bright lights and excited voices.

“yeah — i guess i finally did… took us a while, but… we made it.”

you smile.

“i knew you would.”

daichi chuckles, letting his shoulder shrug up as all the awkwardness falls away between the pair of you, the years falling away day by day, month by month, until it’s just him and you and an entire future of the bright unknown, laid out at your feet.

“yeah, you never did doubt us… even when i did.”

you open your mouth, but someone’s voice cuts through the fray.

“daichi! we gotta go warm up!”

daichi jumps as suga waves at him from down the entire hall, looking both apologetic and exasperated.

“ah — sorry —” daichi turns back to you, his heart halfway to his throat as you nod, the pair of you suddenly tossed back into the present, like a movie caught in fast forward, the frames scrambling to catch up to the here and now.

“no! no — it’s okay! go! i’ll —”

“i’ll text you — see you after, okay? i mean, i don’t know how long — or if you had plans —”

“i don’t! text me — i’ll be here —”

“okay! good! that’s… that’s good!”

“daichi! c’mon, seriously!”

“sorry suga! i’ll be right there —” daichi turns back to you, caught between a frenetic panic and excitement, “i’ll… see you later, yeah?”

you nod, a blush high on your cheeks, nodding, “yeah! good luck! i’ll be watching.”

daichi opens his mouth, wonders if he should say something else, but suga is yelling for him again, and then there’s something warm pressed to his cheek. before he can think, you’re pulling away, your lashes dark and fluttering, your breath hot against his skin.

and then, you’re pressing a hand to his chest, pushing him into motion.

“for… for good luck. now, go!”

“y-yeah — uh — bye!”

you laugh, waving, pressing your lips together as you watch him stumbling rather blankly towards where the rest of his team is waiting for him.

“see you later!”

daichi raises a hand to the place on his cheek where your lips had been, feeling as if you’d smacked him across the face, in all the best of ways.

he looks stares down at his hand, and then back up at you, standing there, still waving.

“don’t — don’t go anywhere, okay?”

you laugh, nodding, now shooing him off proper as he reaches his team and suga starts to drag him bodily from the hall. daichi can’t help looking over his shoulder one more time before you disappear into the crowd, but he finds you immediately, standing on tip-toe, waving furiously at him.

“i won’t! i’ll be right here!"

#sawamura daichi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #sawamura daichi x you #sawamura daichi imagines #haikyuu imagines #sawamura daichi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #floofy floof floof #haiCUTIES #im sorry this took so damn long anon i rly did love this prompt i just wanted to do it justice and i'm still not sure i did #but i wanted to get this out u__u #i simp for daichi now and i refuse to apologize

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daisybell17 · 7 months

Text

Fourth if July — Loki [song fic] {PART 2}

(warning: death‼️)

Well you do enough talk My little hawk, why do you cry?

Loki sat alone in your previously shared chambers once your funeral had commenced. Frigga had convinced Odin to allow you a “royal like” funeral as you were Loki’s beloved now gone.

Although it was a beautiful service in the eyes of the royal family and of the people of Asgard, Loki hated it. He hated every single moment of it…why did they always say funerals were a beautiful way to honor life?! You were gone. He accepted celebrating your life, but to call this moment beautiful?!

What a pathetic description. He wanted you alive. Forever. With him no matter what…even in death, if it were possible for you to enter Valhalla.

Breaking into tears and rage, Loki had cried cor hours on end, missing you, his beloved, his darling girl…

His best girl.

As the days grew closer to your final send off, Thor had tried reasoning with Loki to see you one last time…but he couldn’t even get words out, nothing left the God of Mischief’s mouth…he was silent, scarily silent, crying in bed, clutching a pillow and reading the first love letter you had sent him years ago, over…and over…and over

Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn? Or the Fourth of July?

Soon his quiet cries turned into bright rage, lashing out at everything and everyone.

Constantly screaming and arguing with people, especially his All-Father Odin who had deemed his behaviour to be punishable.

Frigga had to kick some sense into him, reminding that this is not what you would have wanted or expected out of Loki once you passed…You’re gone forever, and nothing can change that fact.

“Mother you don’t understand, even when we enter Valhalla, she won’t be there…what even is the point of my existence?”

“Loki my boy, she was an extraordinary woman…she truly was your other half…bringing the light and best out of you…my darling, have you not learned by now? have your eyes not been opened? She may be gone, gone for eternity, but that doesn’t mean your existence is meaningless…she changed you for the better my dear…do you know how much you can do for yourself? for the world? because of her love for you?” Frigga had hold her son close, comforting him in his grief

“Mother…I…I have learned so much because of her…but what now? She was this once in a lifetime enigma…that I won’t ever see again…perhaps i can beg for Odin to strip me of my immortality, but even then…our lives beyond this plane will never meet” He stayed quiet for a second, letting a realisation dawn onto him

“You know Mother…she did teach me so much…about love and life…perhaps I can continue living her word and grace through teaching others…but I don’t know…I’ll need to think about it”

If there was a lesson you indirectly taught Loki when you were still around, it would be to continue loving even in places where love is non-existent. Become that beam of life and love, and Loki took that lesson to heart.

We're all gonna die

As the weeks passed, Loki was obviously still not ok, but he brought it upon himself to finally visit your grave…

Soon enough he visited you every other day and talked to you for hours in end. He knows you can hear him from your own Valhalla, which is the topic he always brings up in the one-sided conversations

“My love, I know one day I will too pass from this realm, that’s nothing to be afraid of…it’s just the mere fact that once I do die and ascend into Valhalla for eternity, without you. Its…something I don’t think I ever will come to terms with. Death can claim me now but even in the heavens, if we aren’t together, I will spend everyday missing you…All that I hope for is that for the rest of eternity, you and me stay happy, even if we are apart…You will never leave my heart…”

“I love you…forever”

——————————————————————————

(a/n): As requested part 2! Loki truly does love you so much :( But it seems he can slowly continue to live even if you were gone forever…i’m open to doing a part 3! love yalls!

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boston-babies · 2 months

Text

You sat in the kitchen in your parents home, scrolling through your social media feed. You stared at the picture of you at the Vanity Fair Oscar party, that gorgeous red dress by Valentino..A haunting melody floated across your mind as you thought back to that night..

“Hot summer nights, mid-July, When you and I were forever wild, The crazy days, city lights..”

You shivered as you felt his breath on the back of your neck “your husband is one lucky man, if I were him, I’d never let you out of my sight” You felt your breath catch when you turned to face him. Those all to familiar blue eyes and dangerous smirk. Your heart beat quickened and your voice was shaky as you played along “Maybe we should show him what happens when I’m out of his sight”

He took your hand and lead you to the dance floor, everyone seemed to part ways to clear the floor for you both. He spun you once, then pulled you close and held you tight. Looking into his eyes, you fell into a trance, nothing else existed but the two of you.

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul?I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful?

You glided across the dance floor; in perfect sync with one another. The room stood still in awe. The power you both emanated and commanded as you waltzed across was intoxicating. Camera flashes danced along your peripheral vision as you both floated around.

All that grace, all that body, All that face makes me wanna party,He's my sun, he makes me shine like diamonds

He dipped you and quickly pulled you back, hand resting dangerously low on your back and face mere inches from yours. Your hand clutched the lapel on his suit and he held your hand tight. His nose gently bumped yours as his lips just barely brushed against yours. “Come home with me” your eyes fluttered open, not even realizing they had closed.

The song and dance had ended minutes ago and you quickly looked around seeing everyone still staring, your son and best friend included. You looked back at your husband and subtly shook your head no. You carefully pulled away “I’m sorry..this shouldn’t have happened..” You spared him one last glance before quickly making your way off the dance floor and out of the venue.

Once you felt cool air hit your face outside, you took a deep breath. Finally calming down. Your eyes closed as you took a few more soothing breaths. After a few moments you opened your eyes and looked around. The carpet had cleared out and all the press went home. You sighed in relief that no one would catch this moment.

You felt an arm grab your elbow and turn you around. Chris looked just as flustered as you. He didn’t say a word as he gently held your face in both hands and pulled you in for a searing kiss. You pulled away after a moment to catch your breath. He still held you close “come. Home.” You thought for a moment, lightly biting your bottom lip before nodding.

*********

Your eyes fluttered open as sunlight gently warmed your face. A welcomed breeze blew through the window. You stretched, feeling sore in the most delicious way. You looked over to your right to see the gentle rise and fall of your husband’s naked back and brown hair tussled in the cutest way. You smiled for a moment until that all too familiar ache creeped its way back into your heart.

You looked back to your left and stared out the window. Last night shouldn’t have happened. You knew it was a bad idea but you were too caught up in the moment and judgement being clouded.

You carefully sat up and got out of bed. More than thankful in that moment that he was a heavy sleeper. You quietly got dressed, decided against leaving him a note and left.

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

You were brought out of your memory when Tanner walked in and loudly laid her purse on the kitchen table. She huffed “so, are we going to talk about you hooking up with your sort of but not really ex husband this past weekend or what?” You tried hiding your smirk and she went on a tangent “this is not funny! You and Chris hooked up! What the actual fuck?!” You sighed “I know, I’m not exactly proud of myself Tan..” you shook your head “what did you tell Ryan?” She rolled her eyes “don’t worry, kid doesn’t suspect a thing. I told him you and Chris just needed to talk about things and he didn’t think anything of that so you’re good”.

You nodded “none of the kids can know..this would hurt them and confuse them even more” she crossed her arms “glad you recognize that” you snapped “will you stop?! I know you don’t like Chris and I know what I did was stupid but Jesus Tanner I’m still human and it’s not like you haven’t made your fair share of mistakes” she sighed “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m worried how this is going to affect you though..”

You shook your head “it already brought all the hurt back. Soon as I woke up the next morning, all of it came back..” your eyes watered “I couldn’t get it out of my mind, so I just got dressed and left”. Now it was her turn to hide her laugh “you..you one night standed him?” You wiped your eyes “it’s not funny!” She snorted “it is though” you started laughing too.

“Has he tried calling or texting you since?” You shook your head “no, not that I blame him.” She nodded “think he’ll tell the kids?” Your eyes widened “Oh god no, he wouldn’t do that to them”

Your phone vibrated and you looked down to see a text from Chris

You looked back up at Tanner “uh oh..”

A/n: of course I had to make things just a bit more messy and complicated😈🩷

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 9 months

Text

I Will Find You in the Dark Ch. 7

Series Summary: Dean and Julie's story continues through turbulent times in the Winchester's life. Can Dean and Julie survive through it all? Can their love survive?

Chapter Summary: What happens when the demon is gone, but the mark remains?

Pairings: Dean x OFC (Julie) Established Relationship

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence throughout. Smut throughout. More detailed chapter warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing explicit. Some fear, much angst, bit of fluff. Talk of pregnancy, and parenthood.

Word Count: 2,532

Series Masterlist

A/N: The seventh chapter in the sequel to my fic, Green is My Favorite Color I strongly suggest that you read that one first, since there will be references made to it throughout this sequel. Also, I suggest you read the Dean and Julie Mini-Series I wrote as a bridge between that fic and this one. (The Mini-series’ title is a bit of a spoiler for the original series, so I won’t post it here, but it can be found here.) I had a lot of fun writing that original series, and the mini-series, and certainly hope those who read and enjoyed those, enjoy this sequel. 💓

The beautiful dividers below and at the end were created by @talesmaniac89 ❤️ Title card was created by me.

One month later

Dean woke up with a shout, clamping his hand over his mouth and breathing heavily. The mark on his arm burned, and he moved his hand to cover it, pressing out the pain.

He looked beside him, hoping he hadn’t woken Julie, but she wasn’t there. He scanned the room quickly and then got out of bed. Not bothering to put his robe on, he went searching for her in his black boxer briefs and white t-shirt. He walked through the library, but she wasn’t there, so he headed for the kitchen.

As he stepped into the doorway, he saw her and sighed. Then a smile blossomed as he watched her, headphones on and singing along softly with whatever song she was listening to. Her body swayed back and forth and her hand smoothed her satin nightgown over the bump that sat fairly low on her belly.

He walked into the kitchen and Julie jumped a bit as he approached. She laughed and pulled her headphones off.

“You scared me.” She said, her tone accusatory.

Dean reached her side and pulled her close, smiling down at her. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

She smiled back up at him before she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled her cheek into his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

She turned slightly to again run her hand across her belly. “Sorry. He got hungry.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, he’s a growing boy.”

Julie nodded. She spoke softly against his chest. "Did you have a nightmare?"

He didn't answer, but that was an answer in itself. She squeezed him a bit tighter and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and a muscle ticked in his cheek.

She raised her fingers to brush against his cheek. He felt cold. She shook her head. "Dean, everything will be okay."

"Will it?" He asked, and something had altered in his voice. His eyes popped open, black like onyx, deep and empty and terrifying.

Julie screamed and tried to jump back, but he had his arms like a vice grip around her upper body.

He smiled an evil, sinister smile. "Oh, Julie. Things are far from okay."

Julie didn't stop screaming, and the sound made the monster laugh loudly and lustfully.

"Julie, Julie, Julie." He said, shaking his head, shaking her.

Julie continued to scream as the room spun, and then suddenly she was startled awake with another scream.

She could still hear his horrible laughter, still see his oil slick eyes, and she was frantic, panting as though she'd run a mile. Something was still clutching at her and she wrenched away from it only to look beside her and see it was Dean. He'd been shaking her awake, but now his hands were raised as though in surrender.

"Jules, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe."

Julie's heart pounded in her ears, and her face was wild, terrified. Dean reached towards her again, trying to put a hand to her cheek.

But she gasped and jerked away from his hand, knocking it aside. Her heart slowed slightly as she saw the spasm of pain flash across his face quickly, before he covered it up with a soft smile.

"I'm gonna go grab you some water."

He stood up, walking away from her in his black boxer briefs and white t-shirt and it brought the monster's image to her mind again. Julie pushed the covers off to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

She rubbed her hands over her face, and breathed deeply so that by the time Dean came back in with a cold glass of water, she'd started to feel more in control, her heart slowing to its normal rhythm.

Dean handed her the glass and she gulped it down; the cold refreshed her a bit, and pushed the nightmare images even further away.

She looked up at Dean and felt awful. He wore a look of concern that she could see was also disguising hurt.

"I'm so sorry, Dean." She said, clasping his hand in hers.

But before she could say anymore he gave her hand a squeeze and shook his head. "No, kid, you don't have to apologize. Nightmares can take us all out."

He raised her fingers to his lips, kissed the back of them and then gave her hand another squeeze before letting it go. "Well, I got my four hours, so I'm gonna head to the library. Get a bit of research done."

Julie started to stand, but he kept her sitting with a gentle hand on her shoulder and a smile. "No, Jules, you need to get some more sleep, sweetheart. You're growing a human. Takes energy."

He slipped on the pair of jeans that was thrown over the desk chair, and then smiled at her again; the smile still hid sadness. "I'll see you when you wake up."

He started to bend down to kiss her cheek, and then stopped himself, obviously not sure how he'd be received. His hesitation broke Julie's heart and she grabbed onto the front of his t-shirt, pulling him down so she could kiss him, firm but tender - trying to convey all her love within one, too brief, exchange of breath.

Dean kissed her back, and then cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead.

"Sleep." He ordered softly, before slipping from her fingers and walking out of the room.

***

Dean sat at the library table with a book that told a slightly obscure and differing tale of Cain and Abel. This version came a bit closer to the one Cain had told him and Crowley, though it left out the part where Cain had tried to kill himself with the blade and became a demon in the process.

Dean shook his head. Probably an important part of the story. He thought with a grimace.

He closed the thick, old book loudly and leaned back in the creaky wooden chair, swiveling it sideways and stretching his legs out.

He traced his fingers over the raised mark on his arm, before dropping his right arm back down, and bracing his left on the arm of the chair, covering his mouth with his hand. He slowly rubbed his fingers back and forth across his lips, his mind drifting.

His brain was running riot with a million conflicting images. At the center of them all though, there was Julie's terrified face as she’d awoken from her nightmare, and that image was overlaid with the way she'd looked a month ago, as he tried to crush her windpipe; it was the same fear and terror in both images.

Then his own nightmares crowded into his mind. He couldn't sort through them, didn't want to. There was just endless screaming and blood; the burning mark, and the rush of power that came when he swung the blade.

He closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions and memories, trying desperately to make them go away.

He heard shuffling feet and looked behind him to see Julie wandering into the room. He gave her a chastising smile. It had barely been an hour since he left their bedroom.

"You were supposed to be in bed."

Julie shrugged and then climbed into his lap. She sat sideways across his legs and looked up at him as she settled in, nestling her shoulder into his chest. She raised her fingers to his jaw and ran the tips of them over his scruffy cheeks.

"I don't sleep very well when you're not there."

Dean smiled at her, and held her hand in place against his lips, kissing her fingertips one by one. Julie sighed softly and laid her head on his shoulder.

After a minute, Dean broke the silence. "Do you want to talk about the nightmare?"

Julie shook her head quickly. "No."

Dean thought she probably should talk to him about it, but he respected her refusal. He knew something about hiding from the bad things in your mind and refusing to acknowledge them.

"Any luck with research?" Julie asked him, and he knew she was asking if he'd found a way to rid himself of the mark that had caused her nightmares.

He just shook his head too. "No, nothing."

Julie nodded and was quiet for a long time. He thought she might have dozed off, but then she moved, smoothing her hand across her belly. Dean covered her hand with his.

"We gotta figure out a name." He said quietly as though he was trying not to wake him.

Julie smiled up at him, her dimple showing. "What did you have in mind?"

Dean pushed out his lips. "I don't know. Do we wanna try for something strange, you know, something that no one will ever be able to pronounce or spell?"

Julie giggled. "Like what?"

Dean thought for a moment. "Ah…Jackson, but with an X, or Elijah but with an A instead of an E?"

Julie chuckled, and added to the list. "Um…Kashton?"

"Ooh," Dean said, impressed, "very nice, but I feel like it needs more vowels if we want absolutely no one to be able to pronounce it."

Julie's wide smile turned into a gasp of surprise and both her hands flew to her belly.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, fear sweeping over him.

But Julie shook her head, all smiles once more. "No, no. It's good. He's moving. Kicking. I've sort of felt him flutter a little before, but this is the first time…" She trailed off and then beamed up at Dean.

She took hold of his big right hand and placed it low on her belly. "Here, you might be able to feel him too."

After a minute of silent anticipation, they both exclaimed loudly as a tiny foot kicked against their joined hands.

"Oh my god." Dean breathed. He waited impatiently to feel him kick again and was rewarded with another jab.

"Does it hurt?" He asked Julie, worry briefly replacing excitement.

But Julie shook her head. "No, it feels…strange… a little inexplicable, but also incredible." She smiled, her eyes shining, and Dean leaned down to kiss her gently.

As she rested her forehead against his, Julie chuckled. "I don't think he liked those names we were coming up with."

Dean grinned. "Well, we've got some time."

Julie kissed him again. "What about naming him Dean?"

Dean scoffed and she pinched his arm lightly. "Hey! That happens to be one of my favorite names in the world."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, we'll see."

He stared down at their hands on her belly, just waiting for more movement. The busy baby boy rewarded them both with what felt like somersaults. They laughed quietly, their heads close together. Slowly, though, a small frown gathered on Dean’s brow. He swallowed several times before speaking very quietly.

"I don't want him to hunt."

He looked at Julie, who wore a soft, sympathetic look, and repeated himself. "I don't want him to hunt."

Julie reached up to card her fingers through his hair, automatically trying to soothe him.

He shook his head, feeling a sad kind of panic rising in him. "I don't want to have to tell him monsters are real."

"Dean." Julie said simply, consolingly.

But he continued speaking. "I don't know if I ever told you this, or if Sam did maybe. But, I was the one who told him that monsters were real."

Julie shook her head and her face spasmed with hurt on his behalf. "No, I never knew that."

Dean smiled and nodded. "Yeah, he was just a kid, maybe eight or nine. I didn’t want him to know, just wanted him to keep being a kid, you know? So, I kept telling him to stop asking questions, told him that he didn't wanna know the answers."

He shrugged. "But you know Sam, dog with a bone. So, he never let up. Then one night he found Dad's journal and asked me if it was all true. So I…I told him."

Dean closed his eyes at the memory. "He was so scared. I tried to tell him we were safe, that Dad wouldn’t let anything get us." He paused for a beat. "But I think, even then, deep down, I knew that might not be true." He exhaled softly. "Cried himself to sleep that night. Had nightmares for weeks after."

He pressed his two big hands firmly over Julie's belly, leaning down to kiss it and wishing more than anything that he could just put up some kind of bubble of protection around Julie and their child.

Julie ran her hand over the back of his short hair and his neck. "Dean," she assured him, "of course he'll never hunt as a child. We'll keep him safe."

Dean shook his head, turning it to look into Julie's eyes, trying to convey how strongly he felt. "I don't ever want him to hunt."

Julie lifted his chin up, forcing him to sit back up. "Listen, children should be allowed to hold onto their innocence as long as they possibly can, they should be encouraged to just be kids."

She bit her lip before continuing. "But look, we're in a very different situation from the way John raised you. I mean, he had this horrible life thrust into his lap, and he didn't know the best way to protect you. So, he did what he thought was best, and just tried to prepare you."

She shook her head. "But we don't have to do that. We know all about what goes bump in the night, and we know how to keep him safe without forcing him to grow up before his time."

Dean nodded, admitting that truth.

Julie's voice got soft. "But, you know, even non-hunters have to eventually tell their kids that monsters do exist. I mean, it may be the human variety, but all kids still end up learning, slowly, that evil exists in the world. We just have to make sure he knows he's loved and safe."

Dean tucked Julie's head under his chin, pulling her tighter against him. How did she always know what to say to make him feel better, to ease his fear and sadness?

Julie kissed his neck and then spoke again. "And when he's eighteen, it will be his choice what option he wants for his life."

Dean nodded reluctantly, accepting that that was the only thing they could do. "Maybe he'll decide to go to Stanford." He said with a smile.

Julie pulled back to look at him and kiss his lips this time. "Maybe." She said softly. "But the most important thing is that he'll have options, any and all options, open to him."

Dean nodded solemnly and made a silent promise to his unborn son.

I will keep you safe, and you will grow up knowing you’re loved, and I’m gonna make sure the whole goddamn world is yours if you want it.

But the voice was still there in the back of his mind, like it was when he told Sam about monsters, making him question whether he was really telling his son the truth.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#dean x ofc #dean x julie #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fan fic series #i will find you in the dark #tw: pregnancy

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quicksilverownsmysoul · 2 years

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Mistletoe Mornings

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Summary: Eddie wakes you up for mistletoe kiss. (Part of my Christmas in July Week)

This one is a little shorter cause the one yesterday was really long.

“Babeeeee.” You heard Eddie coo, feeling the weight of him settle on top of you. You peaked open an eye to see him straddling your lap, clad in his black boxer briefs and one of his hand made crop tops. He had cut the sleeves and bottom off of an old Ozzy Osbourne T-shirt, creaking little peek a boos for you to see the tattoos that decorated his skin and the soft pudge of his tummy that hung over the waist band of his boxers. Eddie also had what looked like a clump of weeds dangling in his hand.

“What you have there?” You yawned out, moving to sit up against the headboard.

He smirked, dangling the clump of weeds in front of you. “Mistletoe.”

You smiled at him, rolling your eyes. “And where did you get that from?” Eddie crawled further up your body, now laying fully on top of you, he laid his chin on your chest as he stared up at you with his dark eyes. You welcomed him gladly, thankful for the warmth that he provided, arms coming to wrap around his back in a sort of hug. You shivered as his free hand came to caress your side, cold fingers drawing aimless shapes onto your skin. His hands were always cold, something that you found oddly comforting.

“My little flock of sheep gifted it to me as a gag joke.” He admitted, placing a kiss on your clothed chest. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t put it to good use.” He winked, leaning up to dangle it over your head.

“And what makes you think I’ll kiss you just like that.” You wrinkled your nose at him playfully. “You have morning breath I don’t know if I want to subject myself to that.”

He rolled to the side and off of you, clutching his chest in fake pain. “You wound me fair temptress, you truly wound me! How could you be so cruel to your devoted lover.” He peaked an eye open at you, swaying the mistletoe over your head. “The only cure to end my pain is a kiss from you fair temptress.” You laughed as you rolled onto your side to face him, placing a teasing kiss on his cheek. “Hmm lovely but I think I’m still pretty wounded.”

“Is that so?” You mused, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly.

“Very.” He hummed, moving his face to finally capture your lips. It was slow and lazy, his surprisingly soft lips melding with yours perfectly. You felt his leg straddle your hip as he rolled you back onto your back, resuming your previous positions he pulled away after a moment, half lidded eyes starting at you. A smirk perched on his lips. “I think I’m cured. But-“ He leaned back down to kiss you yet again. “You can never be too sure.” Eddie let himself lay back into you, planning to spend the rest of the morning kissing you.

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #joseph quinn

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pedropascalsx · 2 years

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Potent - Dieter Bravo x F! Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex Pollen, Swearing, P in V sex, Oral (Both m&f) receiving, voyeurism, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Dieter Bravo being Dieter Bravo.

Word Count: 5.2k Words.

A/N: This is my FIRST attempt at Sex Pollen. I tried. Also I tried to make Dieter as Dieter as possible but yeah. I really hope you like it. I wasn’t sure whether to post it but thought, whats the worst that could happen? Enoy!!

Unable to miss the steady stream of Taxis, Ubers and Lyfts passing your car as you’d pulled on to the street that housed your boss’s mega mansion you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You’d attempted to call him to inform him you were on your way over to discuss his schedule for the following week, but his phone was going straight to voicemail; and it wasn’t too difficult to guess why.

The gates were wide open and a few stragglers from the party he’d thrown the night before waited impatiently for their rides to turn up as you parked your shitty car next to his brand-new range rover; the one that you’re pretty sure he still hadn’t even gotten inside of yet, let alone driven.

You said a quiet good morning to the small group of party goers watching your every move, and they grunted the same back before you slipped in through the slightly ajar doors.

Empty cups, broken glasses, discarded liquor bottles and a plethora of drug paraphernalia littered every surface of his gorgeous home. The brand new, marble coffee table that he had spent an absolute fortune on was covered in a dusty white residue and you felt crestfallen at the sight – he had begged you to get it for him as it was one of a kind – and the non-stop bidding war for it took place over three days.

You climbed the stairs and made your way to the master bedroom; the door was pushed wide open, and two women were leaning over a sleeping Dieter Bravo and snapping pictures of him, completely nude and standing to attention as so to speak. Over their loud whispering and high-pitched giggles, they didn’t hear you enter. Slamming the door to give them a fright; their attention was immediately turned to you, “Ladies. You have a choice here; you can pass me your phones and I can delete the photos myself or I can contact Mr Bravos lawyers and have them meet us here and discuss the consequences or taking illicit photos of someone without consent. And I promise you the legal team this man has on his staff is a million times better than anyone you’d be able to find off of google. So, what’s it going to be? Do you want to get arrested this fine July morning?”

You watch closely as they look at each other and back over at a still sleeping Dieter and then back down to their phones, and after a few more glances back and forth they hand over their phones. You make sure to delete all evidence of the party – clearing the recently deleted folder and removing Instagram and snapchat stories just to be safe, “I’d highly recommend staying clear of any future parties thrown at this residence” you snide as they shuffle out of the room clutching their phones and making a beeline towards the door.

Bending down you pick up a large soft throw and drape it over Dieter, trying to avoid making eye contact with his admittedly impressive morning wood as you did so.

“Dieter” you say whilst gently shaking his shoulder, “Wake up” you shake his shoulder a little harder the next time, “Wake up, Dieter, come on” and he lightly groans underneath you, eyes still widely sealed shut, “DIETER WAKE UP” you yell.

“Fuck” he grumbles out from underneath you, “Where’s the urgency baby?”.

“Dieter, you almost ended up on TMZ with your cock being the whole bloody story” you choke out with a sigh.

“Say cock again” he says with a cheeky smile, opening his eyes for the first time since you got there.

“Dieter, it’s not funny. They were taking photos of you completely naked, if I got here just a few minutes later; they’d be all over Instagram and twitter by now.”

“Good thing you got here then” he says whilst scratching the patchy spots of his ragged beard, you watch him for a few moments, noticing the darker patches beneath his eyes and the way his hair is sticking up wildly. He is beautiful, undeniably so and your heart aches a little as you stare down at him. You’d started working for him a few weeks after his breakup with Anika – a beautiful young girl, who worked at the hotel he was quarantining in whilst filming an instalment of Cliff Beasts. He’d ended the relationship after catching her in bed with one of his co-stars from the next movie he signed on for. He didn’t really speak about the situation much, but it was clear that she had broken his heart and it sent him on a bit of a spiral and his drug use had gotten out of control.

A mutual friend had approached you about the job and you’d reluctantly agreed and now a year and a half later; his career is continuing to bloom but his personal life is in tatters. You worked endlessly to ensure that every scandal or comprising situation he had got himself into didn’t make it to the press, and it was exhausting.

You gave him a small smile before walking over to his walk-in closet and pulling out some sweatpants and his favourite green robe, “Get dressed and come down. I’ll start tidying up. Do NOT go back to sleep or so help me Dieter, I’ll… yeah, get dressed” you say with a stern look on your face as you hand him his clothing.

“I’m up, baby” he counters back.

“Yeah, so I’ve seen” you mutter as you exit his room.

“Did you like what you saw, sweet girl?” he shouts to you, and you laugh loudly at his lack of decorum.

How many people were in his house last night? You think to yourself as you bag up the seemingly endless amounts of trash and load up his dishwasher, feeling grateful that they’d had the sense to move on to plastic cups before using every piece of glass-wear in his cabinets.

You filled four trash-bags by the time he had made it downstairs. You watch him from the corner of you eye as he immediately goes to his refrigerator and gulps down a gallon of orange juice straight from the container, “I ordered breakfast” he announces between sips.

“It’s technically lunchtime” you inform him whilst placing a bunch of liquor bottles in the recycling box underneath his sink.

“Brunch then” he says with a smirk, “So how was your evening? As eventful as mine?”

You can’t help the way your lips twist in annoyance at his question, you’d spent the evening before curled up on your sofa eating leftover Chinese food and attempting to reason with a woman that Dieter had fucked a few weeks previously, trying to convince her not to sell the video of Dieter eating her pussy to a company that distributes celebrity sex tapes to every porn site known to man.

You’d managed to get her to agree, offering her $12,000 more than the company after the video. You immediately had his legal team go to her home and have her sign the NDA and a contract confirming that she wouldn’t distribute any copies herself and another to legally say that all copies had been deleted after they stood behind her and watched her do it. Not quite as exciting as spending the evening drinking with Dieter, his Hollywood buddies and a bunch of desperate wannabes trying to latch on him and his friends for a bit of fame.

“$47,000” you replied sharply, and he raised his eyebrow, “That’s the amount you had to pay Crystal so she wouldn’t sell the video. That’s how my evening was… Spent trying to convince her not to fuck up your career.”

“She came like 4 times… Hardly wo-“

“Dieter, it’s not a joke. The franchise you’ve just signed with would have dropped you in an instant if they caught wind of it. It’s a huge fucking movie deal. Fuck, even cliff beasts doesn’t even rival this shit.”

You watch as he winces at those two words, the memories of the shit that went down mixed with the heartbreak of Anika, making that whole movie a sore spot for him.

“I’m sorry” you say as you realise your mistake, “Just I know how bad you wanted this role. You told me it was the first book you read in English, and you’ve come so far, Diets. I don’t want anyone to fuck this up for you… including yourself.”

He clearly marvels at your words before the doorbell rings and then he bounces off towards the door to collect the food delivery he had ordered, whilst you continue to work through the mountains of mess.

“Do I not pay people to do that?” he says as he watches you scrub the counters with bleach, dropping the bags of food next to you.

“Clara isn’t working today, and she’s not employed to clear up after your parties. God knows, you’re not paying her enough to be doing this shit. You’re certainly not paying me enough.” He lets out one of his signature raspy laughs and you throw the rubber gloves you’d been adorning into his sink and wash your hands before pulling a breakfast burrito from the paper bag.

You eat in a comfortable silence, with the occasional giggle slipping from your mouth as he gets his food all down his front.

You never seem to notice the affect your laugh has on him, especially the giggling, the way he immediately smiles so largely that his dimple makes an appearance or the way his shoulders get a little tense as a warmth spreads through his whole body. You never ever notice.

“Why do you never come to my parties?” he asks and his lip twists as he awaits your answers.

“Working for you is a 24/7 job, Diets. Also, you never ask me to come. I don’t think you’ve ever once invited me to a party” you admit with a shrug as you eat the last few fries at the bottom of the bag.

“I don’t invite anyone… people just come. Sometimes, I don’t even know why they came. They bang the door and before I know it – there’s a party!” he says voice void of any emotion.

“You can say no, Dieter, send them away.”

“Yeah, but by the time they come… you’ve gone home and I’m alo-“and before he can finish, he’s cut off by the doorbell ringing for a second time and he’s out of the kitchen rushing to open it.

The voice that quietly rings through the hall and down into the kitchen, is a voice you know very well. Auggie. The delivery boy of Dieter’s dealer. They engage in general chit-chat and act as if though they’re not doing extremely illegal dealings in the middle of the day; at Dieter’s front door before he wishes him a good rest of the day and is skipping back into the kitchen; robe pockets filled with little baggies of white powder.

“Dieter” you say with a disappointing groan, knowing your words will go in one ear and out the other, so you elect to not say anything else.

He presses a quick kiss to your scalp before grabbing a bottle of water for you both from his refrigerator, “Come to my next party”.

“No” you reply bluntly whilst taking the bottle from him, “I see all the shit that goes down at them from the videos that I’m trying to contain… I don’t need to see you get sucked off in person” your voice is accidentally laced with an obvious pang of jealousy, and you gage the look on his face for a few seconds trying to work out whether he picked up on it.

“Mhmm. Well, we can have our own little party right here. Right now,” he suggests with a wink, “It’ll be fun, we can have a few drinks, take a dip in the jacuzzi-…”

“Multiple had sex in your jacuzzi last night and the pool boy is having to drain it. There is something clogging the filter” you interject with a slight poke to his chest, “Dieter, we need to talk about next week… It’s going to be busy. You’re expected in five cities over two days AND you’ve got a cover shoot, as well as all-”

“Baby” he says whilst pushing his finger to your lips in a shushing motion, “When was the last time you let your hair down?”

A long sigh escapes your lips, and you step back from him and run your hands across your face, “Dieter, this isn’t a joke AND no” you shout as he attempts to cut in, “don’t you dare interrupt me, Bravo. Sure, would it be nice to spend an evening away from my couch? Yes. But I can’t. Some of us need to be on the ball all the time, Dieter, I have to be on high alert all the time and it’s fine… I love it. I love y-… I love working for you. And yes, I’m fully aware that I have zero social life, I don’t remember the last time I had sex… Heck, I don’t remember the last time, I had time to pull on my vibrator and fuck myself and I can just feel everything slipping away from me… shit” you exclaim, replaying back the outburst that you had not expected to fly out of your mouth. Shit. You look over at him and he’s stood with a shocked expression etched across his handsome face, fuck, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”

He nods his head and gives you a small pitiful smile, before walking back to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine and a beer, “No party? Just two friends, sitting down and having a comfortable drink instead?” And he pulls a wine glass from the cupboard.

You nod and he points you towards his sofa, and you shake your head, “Living room is still filthy.”

“Bedroom it is” he announces as he pushes you towards the stairs and you climb them in front of him. His bedroom had become the place where you spent most of your time at his house, sat cross legged at the end of his bed whilst he nurses a hangover or just lays there too lazy to get up and go downstairs, so you don’t mind the suggestion. You climb down on to your usual spot, and he snuggles back down to where he had been laying less than an hour earlier.

He pours you a large glass of wine and you draw small circles with your fingertips on his ankle that he dropped into your lap, “You’d have a good time, you know?”

A small hum leaves your mouth and smile up at him, “I’ve heard the stories about your legendary shindigs, Dieter, cleaned up the aftermath of many of them… I know I’d have fun.”

“But you won’t come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Let’s get Croatia out of the way and the first movie filmed and we will discuss it then” you answer with a shrug.

“Holding you to that” he mumbles before fiddling around with his robe, pulling out a small bag of white powder and setting it up on a tray next to his bed, “One moment.”

This is something you’d witnessed multiple times before; it wasn’t the first and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he had snorted cocaine in front of you. The very first time being the first day you had met. He makes a loud grunt as he snorts the powder and his face contorts for a few moments… “Jesus, that’s different” he utters aloud.

“Are you okay?” you reply instantaneously, and he replies with a smile and a wink… “What does it feel like?” you ask quietly.

“You’ve never done cocaine? Ever?” he asks sounding a little more shocked than you had expected, “It’s fucking dope.” He starts to wriggle, and his posture starts to change and the next few words that come flying out of your mouth manage to shock you both.

“Can I try?” you gulp loudly.

“I mean… if you’re sure… are you sure?” he asks still wriggling around uncontrollably.

“Yes, but just once” and you watch as he separates a tiny line of white powder on the tray just for you before tentatively passing it over to you.

“Just the small line, snort quickly. But only if you’re sure, baby” he says as he pulls the same throw from earlier across his lap.

You snort it quickly and he watches the entire time, keeping an eye on you, whilst attempting to relieve some of the pressure building up between his legs.

What the fuck is happening? He thinks to himself. Watching you snort a line of cocaine, whilst sat in the spot he loves you most. From your sudden need for corruption, and his cock suddenly getting hard in his pants he’s not sure what’s going on. He had taken care of his morning wood before joining you, and honestly, he fisted his cock with you in mind the entire time. But this was different. A slight high from the drug had started to rip through him but it was quickly replaced with an insatiable thirst. His whole body burning with desperate need as he watched you sit sweetly at the end of his bed. What the fuck is happening?

You’re not really sure what to expect, you grimaced at the sharp pain that flooded your nostril after snorting the powder but nothing else seemed to be happening. You look over at Dieter who’s running his hands back and through his hair as he watches you intently, never for a second taking his gaze off of you and then it happens.

A sharp pain shoots straight through you and to your core, an intense pressure building and the need for relief unbearable. You squirm uncontrollably as you press your thighs tightly together as your body begins to writhe around, “What the fuck, Dieter?” you gasp out as you fight the urge to pull up your dress and shove two fingers inside of yourself.

“Fuck” he grits out as he realises that you’re having the same reaction, “I don’t know what’s happening, baby. Need some fucking relief.” He chokes out as he begins to palm himself through his sweatpants.

You squeeze your legs together even tighter, desperate to feel a little friction on your clit and begin to rip the sundress and underwear your wearing clean off your body. Your hands instantly squeezing at your tender breasts, and pinching at your nipples, completely uncaring of the fact your boss is a few feet away from you watching your every move.

“Fuck, baby, fuck” he grunts as he rips the throw off of his legs and frees his cock from his sweatpants, pumping it furiously as he watches you writhe around at the bottom of his bed, “fuck I need to fuck you, sweet thing” he grits out as one of your hands finds its way to your clit and you start to choke out broken moans as you desperately rub circles in your bundle of nerves, providing just an ounce of the relief your body is screaming for.

“Tell me how good it feels?” Dieter demands and you head swings over in his distraction and you practically salivate at the sight of his stroking his cock relentlessly, “Tell me.”

“So good! Fuck, your cock is so fucking thick, Dieter… shit. What the fuck is that stuff?” you mumble as the desire raging through your veins grows stronger and stronger.

“It’s just fucking coke” he mutters, “I think… that’s what I fucking asked for… fuck they must have cut it with something new.”

You focus all of your attention on bringing forward the orgasm that you’re craving, needing, and finally it tears through you, you throw your head back and continuing to slowly play with your pussy as you pass through your orgasm.

“What the fuck, Dieter?” you ask, basking in the short afterglow for a few moments before a thought comes steamrolling into your mind, “Did you… did you fucking plan this?”

He’s still furiously pumping his cock, eyes flickering up and down the length of your body as he does so, unable to talk or stop himself until hot ropes of cum start to shoot out of the swollen tip of his cock.

He moans your name throughout his high, and you feel a slight burning begin to flood back to your core. Your pussy dripping with arousal and before you have time to register it happening the desperate need consumes your whole body and your desperately pawing at yourself.

“I didn’t plan this, I don’t fucking know what’s happening, baby” you hear him repeat over and over, and you watch as he resumes stroking himself with fury… the previous orgasm doing nothing to soften his rock hard dick.

You begin pumping two fingers in and out of your heat, trying to reach that spot up inside you that’ll satiate some of the need coursing throughout you. Your eyes glued to Dieter and his throbbing length, wanting so desperately to be split open by him, “Fuck me” you choke out, “Fuck me, Dieter, please… Fuck me” you beg over and over, as he grinds his teeth, trying to hold himself back from thrusting himself into you.

“Can’t… don’t want you to think -fuck-, I planned this… Can’t having you thinking I’d do that to you, baby” every word is met with a groan between it, and the sight of you aggressively fingering your dripping wet pussy comes to much and he cums a second time, his pleasure spurting across the bedsheets.

“Won’t fuck you,” he mutters, “But I’ll help you, baby… if you want” and you nod keenly as he moves himself closer to you.

“Fuck” he murmurs, looking down at your glistening pussy as he spreads your legs for him. He rips away your frantically moving hand and you sob out from the loss, but before you can argue or push it back he bends over and licks a wide strip through your pussy, before sucking on your clit and pushing two of his deliciously thick fingers inside of you, pumping in and out, searching for that spot inside of you until you gasp his name out in pleasure. You lose count of the amount of times he makes you cum with his mouth, sucking and licking through your folds as he keeps his fingers in your heat. His head resting on your thighs between orgasms, and immediately diving back in when you’re ready for him.

The sheets beneath you saturated and sopping wet with a combination of both of your come, his hand free aggressively pumping his shaft to provide him some relief from the unrelenting burning inside of you both.

You had both began to notice the longer periods of relief after every orgasm, but the fire wasn’t ready to flame out yet and you needed him inside of you. Desperately. And honestly, you’d needed him for a lot longer than today… “Dieter,” you whisper, “I know you didn’t plan this, baby, I know. I’m sorry for assuming the worst in you” you moan aloud as his tongue starts to flick over your clit again, “baby, please, please fuck me. I need you inside of me… really fucking want you, really, really need you.”

He reluctantly pulls his face away from your pussy, but not before sucking your clit a few more times and moving up your body. His knees placed either side of your hips, he looks down at you, your chest heaving up and down and face as sweet as he’d ever seen it, murmuring his name as he took you in.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby” he says with the most sincerity you think you’ve ever heard him speak with, “Have not been able to stop thinking of this gorgeous face since I first saw you.”

And then his hand gently cups the side of your face and he’s pulling you in for a kiss. And it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It’s soft but giving and the way his tongue dances against yours makes you moan into his mouth. Every stroke of his tongue, every gentle nibble on your lips is like paradise, the scruff of his beard scratching the soft skin of your face makes you mewl. You kiss for as long as you can, until the unrelenting need starts to hurt, and then he situates himself and sheathes inside of you in a single thrust.

You’re still dripping with arousal and the countless orgasms had made you slick enough for him to easily push inside of you. The stretch of him makes you wince, and he immediately stills, ignoring his need for relief and studying your face with an intensity, “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, good, really good. You’re just fucking big, Dieter” you gasp out place a hand of his ass and give it a slight slap in encouragement, “I need you to move.”

“Fuck, okay, baby” he mutters, and he starts gently rocking his hips, barely pulling out of you until and you start to plead and beg for him to go faster, and the look on his face tells you there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.

The pace and precision this man fucks with is outstanding, every movement is perfectly calculated, and he grinds into that spot inside of you without missing every time, “How’s it feel baby?”

“So, fucking good, Dieter, so fucking good.”

“Rub your clit for me” he orders, and you mewl at his sharp raspy drawl; your hand snaking between your bodies to obey his demand.

The filthy noises he makes as he pounds in and out of you, between praising your body and talking about how sweet and perfect your cunt is, goes straight to your core, and the adding element of your fingers rubbing your clit so perfectly makes your orgasm tear through you. Your walls gripping onto his length as you clench around him like a vice makes him wince, the tightness of your cunt milking him of his cum at dragging his climax free and the same time you reach your own. The feeling of his seed painting your walls provides you with the most relief you’d felt from any orgasm.

He drops down on top of you, making sure his arms take the brunt of his weight and he nuzzles his face into your neck before licking up to your mouth and pulling you in for another kiss.

Breaking free of the kiss you both agree he needs to contact his dealer and find out exactly what was still coursing through both of your bloodstreams. He rolls off of you and you groan at the loss of his hard cock inside of you. He reaches over to the nightstand to grab his phone and dials his dealers’ number, and you listen to the conversation… The delivery driver had two drop offs – first to Dieter and then another. The drugs had somehow gotten mixed up and instead of the usual cocaine delivery, Dieter had received a drug intended for a sex party, the powder being made of a potent chemical that enhances your sex drives tenfold. Side effects including intense pain and severe loss of inhibitions. The drug in small quantities can last for 6-12 hours but consumed in larger can last for days.

You’re not entirely sure of how long it had been since you had taken the drugs, but you were sure you both had at least a few more hours before it was out of your systems.

By the time the call had ended, your mouth had wrapped around Dieter’s cock, and you were hollowing your cheeks as you attempted to take as much of him in your mouth as you possibly could. He didn’t even say goodbye when hanging up the phone, just ending the call so he could let out the strangled moan he had been keeping lodged at the back of his throat.

“Fuck, baby” he grunts as he started to fuck himself up into your mouth, rocking his hips from underneath you and groaning in approval every time you gagged around him. The burning desire was making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together, but you were determined to make him fill the back of your throat before you seek out your own pleasure. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long, and he’s shaft in pumping the back of your throat and coating your tongue in his salty goodness. You swallow as much of him as you can, but you feel his come and a mixture of your saliva drip down your chin with every thrust.

You release him with a loud pop, and lick lazily across his swollen tip a few times before straddling him and slowly lowering yourself down onto him, wincing once again at the stretch.

“Fuck” you mumble as you rock slowly back and forth, “Can’t tell you the amount of times I thought about you like this… Rubbing my clit to the thought of your beard scraping against my thighs.”

“Yeah? You think about me when playing with that pretty little pussy, baby?” he asks and you take in the sex drunk expression on his face, he looks utterly wrecked and you feel a pang of pride at doing this to the Dieter Bravo.

“Every single time I make myself cum.”

You increase the pace in which your grinding into him and he grips your hips and encourages you to bounce up and down, fucking up into you as you do, “Look at my good girl” he grits out between his teeth, “MY good girl… No one else gets to fucking touch her again.”

The unexpected and sudden possessiveness he begins to display makes your pussy clench around him, hearing him refer to you as his girl driving you insane.

“Nobody but you” you purr back at him and his eyes flash with a new kind of hunger, a softer but more powerful kind than the one that had pulled you together.

“You’re coming to the next party, and everyone after that” he tells you, hand cupping your face and making you look into his eyes as you continue bouncing up and down on his cock, “I need to show my beautiful girl off to everyone.”

“Yeah?” you ask softly, “You could just be saying this because we’re under the influence of a sex drug, baby?”

“Nope. I meant it when I said you’re all I think about… Just never imagined someone like you could want someone like me” he says with a slightly sad smile, “I guess you could say I’ve been under the influence of something stronger than any drug… since the day I met you… I’ve been under the influence of love.”

“Dieter FUCKING Bravo, did you just quote that shitty cash grab romcom you were in, to me?”

“…Yes.”

You roll your eyes and pull him in for another kiss. Unsure of how many more times you fucked that day until the drug had eventually left your system, having to pull him in to a spare room to sleep on a bed that wasn’t completely drenched in you both.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #the bubble #the bubble fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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torreshalstead · 3 months

Text

On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 5

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 5/15

Notes - we are now fully entering our letter era so happy reading! ❤️ AO3 Link

July 1944

Waiting for Jay’s next letter felt like waiting for rain in the middle of summer, painfully slow and every letter through the mailbox felt like the next cloud that would end the long drought. The first week she had almost grabbed the letters out of the mailman’s hands until her father had scowled at her for opening the door in her nightgown. After the first week the days seemed to drag, anytime she failed to see the newly familiar handwriting adorning an envelope, her stomach would drop a little further and her smile would shift from her face.

She had tried to write a letter to him so when his arrived she would be able to mail it back to him immediately and not put him through the torturous wait that she was enduring. But she found she didn’t have the words. How do you write a response to a letter you are yet to receive? How do you explain to someone that you only got to experience a short amount of time with, that they have forever changed your life?

Dear Jay

That sounded too impersonal.

Dearest Jay

That sounded like she was just repeating his words back to him.

Jay

She had scratched that out as quickly as she had written it, the scrunched up piece of paper ending up being singed by the candle to save herself the embarrassment of her parents finding the remains of the letter.

My Dearest Jay,

Everyday I have waited for your letter to arrive, to read your words again and know that you are okay and what we have isn’t just a dream.

Thank you doesn’t seem enough for the gift of the book, Mr Periot really does know how to solve a murder and Agatha Christie writes like no one I have ever read before. I shall keep it safe for you so when you return, we can read it together back on our bench.

Life in Chicago is just how you left it, the summer is hot and unfortunately you are the only person to ever have offered me a cold soda. I wouldn’t accept one from anyone else now anyway. My father is at least being kept busy with his new business deal which gives me plenty of time to read and reread your notes. I think I know them by heart by now.

I hope this letter brings you joy and makes you smile, just as yours does to me.

I eagerly await your response.

Yours forever,

Hailey

It wasn’t perfect and her handwriting wasn’t as neat as it could be, if her mother ever saw it she would probably be rapped across her knuckles, but it was honest. She had left enough space between the final paragraph and the sign off to include a response to anything he had written in his. The letter was carefully folded and hidden in the book along with the one she treasured from him.

The newspapers were full of stories of the war, of the pride of the nation who was fighting for freedom overseas. But among the positive, there was always a list of names of those who would not be returning home to their loved ones.

Every night when her knees hit the floor and she clutched her hands tightly together she prayed he would come home safe. Come home to her.

——————————————————————————

Hailey had made a decision that checking the mail for his letter was the reason it had yet to arrive, somehow she was the cause of the delay. So she pushed the thought of him and his letter to the back of her mind and continued to work through her everyday life, ignoring the fact the feeling of his lips on hers was still filling her dreams every night when her head hit the pillow and her eyes fluttered closed.

‘Letter for you Hailey,’ her father said in passing, dropping the letter onto the counter as he headed to the back door. He must have picked them up this morning and forgotten to hand them over, it was already past 2 in the afternoon. He had Jay’s letter in his possession for hours before giving it to her.

There were hours when his words were within her grasp and she hadn’t known.

‘Thank you father,’ she choked out as she picked out the letter with trembling fingers. It was his handwriting. It was finally here.

‘I’ll be late tonight, help you mother clear up after dinner,’ he grunted as he closed the door behind him. Hailey didn’t know why he wasted his breath, she always helped her mother. It was he who always seemed to fail to remember that the dishes did not wash themselves in the same way that the food was not magically cooked or his clothes magically cleaned and mended.

She folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket - she couldn’t read it now, the store was still open and a customer could appear and need assistance. But she could feel it burning a hole in her dress, the need to rip open the envelope and read it immediately was almost more than she could bear.

But she also wanted, no she needed, to read it alone.

Getting through the rest of the day was like trying to walk through molasses. Every customer seemed to need more help than the previous one. Hailey spent 20 minutes trying to explain the difference between evaporated milk and milk powder to an elderly gentleman who decided to buy neither. She had to clean up a spill from where two kids had decided to shake up their bottles of pop after purchasing them and causing them to spray all over the front of the counter. Each task was more painful than the next.

‘Hailey dear,’ her mother appeared downstairs just before the shop was due to close. Her mother usually stayed upstairs and away from the store, Hailey was never completely certain why but she seemed to find many a task to occupy her time upstairs.

‘Yes mother,’ Hailey smiled, her fingers brushing the corner of the envelope tucked into her pocket. Warmth spreading through her chest at the contact.

‘I was wondering if you’d like to take a walk with me this evening?’ She asked with a gentle smile.

Hailey was taken aback. She loved her mother but similar to how she didn’t come down to the store often, she frequented the outside of their small bubble even less. The idea of being even more delayed from reading Jay’s letter was not appealing but spending time with her mother, that she valued deeply.

‘I’d love to,’ she said softly, knowing that the words on the page would still be there later.

‘I’ll pop down again in a couple of minutes when you’ve closed up,’ she said before turning heel and walking back upstairs.

Hailey wondered what had brought it on but she wasn’t going to question it, they very rarely got to spend any time together.

——————————————————————————

The pair strolled in a pleasant silence down the street, glancing through shop windows and smiling at passers-by.

‘Shall we pop into Mrs Smith’s? Her mother offered and Hailey’s mouth fell open in shock.

‘Really?’ Her mother knew of her love for reading but also knew of her father’s distaste for it.

‘Your birthday is not far off, if you find something you like, maybe it can be an early present for you,’ she smiled, holding open the door for Hailey who passed through it with a wide smile.

‘Miss Hailey, how lovely to see you,’ Mrs Smith said loudly from her position behind the counter. There were stacks of books towering around her, to the untrained eye it looked like chaos but Hailey knew that Mrs Smith knew where every single book was in her store - give her the title or author and she could point to it immediately.

‘Afternoon Mrs Smith, mother and I are just going to have a look around if that’s okay?’ She asked, aware it must be close to closing time for her as well.

‘Of course dear,’ she winked warmly and settled back down to continue to organise the stacks.

This was one of Hailey’s favourite places, the smell of the books, the walls covered with stories that could take you out of Chicago and to somewhere else entirely, she’d spend every hour here if she could.

‘Anything you like Hailey,’ her mother whispered to her with a gentle squeeze to her arm.

‘Are you sure?’ She confirmed, it was so unlike her family to offer to buy her anything. In the back of her mind she wondered what had brought this on. Yes her birthday was coming up, her 18th birthday, but still she expected some material which her mother would fashion into a new dress for her. That’s what she got every year, and she treasured each one even though she knew they always choose the material with the cheapest price tag. Frivolous spending was not something the Upton patriarch approved of.

‘I’m sure,’ her mother nodded.

Hailey pulled her into a tight hug before letting her go just as quick and almost bounding down the aisle. As she walked through the stacks, her fingers dragging along the untouched books, with their perfect spines and untouched pages, she was struck by a sudden thought.

Jay had promised to buy her a new book. She had never owned a new book before and she desperately wanted her first to be from him. She wanted all her firsts to be with him. To accept a new book from someone else, even from her mother, it felt like a betrayal.

But how could she explain to her mother that she didn’t want to accept her very generous gift because she was waiting for a gift from someone she couldn’t know for sure was ever going to return home. That felt rude.

Rude or betrayal. Neither were qualities that Hailey ever wanted to embody.

But her heart won out.

She headed to the back corner where Mrs Smith kept the second hand books. If she could select one of these then she could persuade her mother it was the one she desperately wanted, and as long as Mrs Smith didn’t admit to having a new copy tucked onto a shelf, her mother needn’t know the difference.

Some of these pre-loved books were in a better condition than the ones she had hidden in her wardrobe. She read through the different titles, pulling a few out to flick through their pages before settling on an almost pristine copy of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. She had been wanting to get her hands on it for a while but the deliveries always arrived in perfect condition so she had been out of luck.

‘Did you find something Hailey?’ Her mother asked as Hailey found her down the home help section looking at the culinary books.

‘I did,’ she said, holding out the chosen book with a smile.

‘This is used,’ her mother noted, ‘it’s your birthday, I can get you a new one.’ She offered with a smile the hid the shame that she wouldn’t normally buy her daughter something unless someone else had owned first.

‘This is the only copy Mrs Smith has,’ she lied and hoped that she wasn’t about to be caught out, ‘but it’s almost new,’ she said with a smile. ‘And I really want to read it,’ she added.

‘If you’re sure,’ her mother asked with a smile. ‘If it’s what you want then it’s what you get.’

With her almost new book tucked under her arm and Jay’s letter still safe in her pocket, they headed back towards the store. Once they were back inside their little apartment, Hailey turned to her mother.

‘Thank you,’ Hailey said, meaning it truly. ‘I’ve had a lovely time with you this evening.’

‘As have I Hailey,’ her mother smiled. ‘I’m sure you are desperate to start to read that book so how about I give you a call when dinner’s ready?’

‘You don’t want me to help?’ Hailey asked, again shocked by her mother’s kind offer.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, hanging up her purse on the hook by the kitchen door and swapping it for her apron. ‘I’ll see you in a short while.’

Hailey didn’t question her again and hurried down to her room, closing the door quickly behind her and placing the book on her nightstand. Pulling out Jay's letter, her hands were trembling again.

She had spent weeks imagining what he had written but now the moment was here, a tiny part of her was worried. What if it didn’t contain the beautifully crafted words of love that she had hoped for, what if it was short and blunt and impersonal. All the possibilities swam through Hailey’s mind.

Swallowing deeply, she carefully pried open the envelope, careful not to rip the return address - 3rd Battalion. She would need that to ensure her return got to him safely.

My dearest Hailey,

Firstly please accept all my apologies that this letter is so delayed in getting to you. I won’t bore you with the details but it took us a while to get settled, I shall leave it at that. But please know that every day I wasn’t writing to you, my thoughts were full of you and the short time we spent together.

I hope you liked your present and the book has provided you some hours of enjoyment. I meant what I said, when I return I shall buy you the books you deserve. You deserve everything good Hailey.

All the boys over here have pictures of their sweethearts that they keep in the pockets over their hearts, they say it keeps them safe but I believe it’s so they feel close to them. I don’t want to ask but if you ever wish to gift me a picture of you, please know I will keep it by my heart every moment. You have left a permanent mark there already.

I hope summer is treating you well and you are enjoying yourself and smiling a lot - a smile like yours deserves to be worn with pride.

I do hope you meant it when you said you would write to me, I patiently but eagerly await your response.

You have my heart,

Yours forever,

Jay.

Hailey fell back onto the bed, clutching the letter over her heart.

He had her heart as well and she knew in that moment that he always would.

#upstead #hailey upton #jay halstead #chicago pd #upstead fic #hailey x jay #chicago pd fanfic #one Chicago #upstead fanfic #chicago pd fic #upstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 1 year

Text

No Place Like Home

a romantic Doctor Strange one-shot based on this prompt:

rating: general audience

pairing: Stephen Strange x Hope Collins (OFC)

genre: romance, fluff

word count: 2.3k

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Stephen had never expected to be living his best life so soon after the darkness, despair, and psychological devastation of the thousands of years he'd spent searching for the path to victory over Thanos. In the weeks following The Return, he had suffered in silence, believing it was his lot, especially as he could not forget all the lives he couldn't save, which resulted from that catastrophic battle. Only Wong had any clue as to the pain, guilt, and sleeplessness that Stephen endured, and he had tried in every way possible to alleviate it. But it was the unexpected return of the woman that Stephen had fallen in love with over the course of his lonely, agonizing journey, that had wrought the miracle that allowed him a happiness he never could have imagined. By mid-July, she had practically moved into his suite of rooms at the Sanctum, which was the sweetest sort of icing on an already delicious cake.

Of course, it wasn't a perfect life, but it was damn close. In the months since their reunion, Hope had become the most necessary part of his days (and nights), and when his work took him far from the New York Sanctum, Stephen carried a perpetual but somehow pleasant ache in his chest. It was good. Oh, so good. To not only love someone in the depths of his soul, but to know without doubting, that he was deeply and unconditionally loved in return. What more could any man hope for?

He reminded himself of this fact often as the pace of his work began to intrude upon their time together. Hope was patient and understanding, not only because of her love for him, but because it was her nature—and as one of those who'd lived in the aftermath of a world made somber by The Blip, she like so much of humanity, had learned to appreciate every new moment with the loved ones they had believed were lost forever. Still, it bothered Stephen with each missed date, each assignation cut short. And he began to wrack his brain for some solution to the problem, or at least to find a way to treat his woman to something special as a proffer of consolation.

One evening after an especially tiring day—he'd been part of a team sent to exorcise a clutch of demons infesting the Acropolis, that had been playing havoc with tourists and townspeople alike--after which he'd been required at Kamar-Taj for deliberation over assignments for freshly promoted Adepts. Hope could easily see how incredibly exhausted he was. But as Stephen had been determined not to miss another evening in her company, she simply decided to put her foot down.

"Look, you can't keep doing this, darling." He was resting his head against the sofa back, with his eyes closed, while one of her favorite sit-coms streamed on the television. Stephen only grunted, already half asleep. "This burning the candle at both ends. You're burning yourself out..."

"No, I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm just..." he yawned despite trying his best not to,"I'm just resting my eyes."

Hope snuggled a little closer, though she firmly maintained her point. "No. No, you're not. You're exhausted and you know it. And I'm afraid I'm not helping—you should be in bed this very instant."

Though his eyes remained closed, Stephen already knew the stubborn look she wore just from the tone of her voice. He hummed in his throat, and replied with a smirk, "Only if you'll come with me."

Sitting up, she gave an exasperated sigh. "I knew you were going to say that!" Hope laid her hand on his arm, "As much as I appreciate the invitation, I think it's best I spend tonight at my place. You need a full night's rest Stephen. A full night of restorative sleep. And as pleasant as sharing your bed is, we both know it's rarely...restful..."

As physically spent as he felt, Stephen couldn't help but enjoy her inuendo. He sat up to face her squarely. "I promise, for tonight anyway, all I'm gonna do is sleep." He threw in a pout he knew she couldn't resist. "Pleeeeease? I miss spending time with you, and it's not fair to you to have such a part-time boyfriend. So, I'd rather take any time we can get together, even if I'm...unconscious."

"Oh, Stephen, what am I going to do with you?"

Tenderly, he cradled Hope's cheek in his hand, watching her resolve begin to melt . "Let me hold you while I fall asleep," he insisted", And I'm certain I'll get all the rest I need."

True to his expectation, Stephen slept more soundly than he had in weeks. And he dreamt of many things; such uninterrupted REM sleep was rare for him, and his weary mind cycled through much of his recent experiences. Though he couldn't recall all of them upon awakening the next morning, one dream in particular stood out because it featured Hope. They had walked hand in hand through one of the marketplaces adjacent to Kamar-Taj, and she had been enchanted by all the sights and sounds, all the vibrant colors and rich scents and exotic flavors, that Kathmandu had to offer. She had gazed in awe at the snowcapped Himalayas and marveled as he'd pointed out Mt. Everest and shared the story of how The Ancient One had stranded him there in a bid to get him to finally tap into his mystic abilities. In the end, he and Hope had stood eagerly before the main gate to the compound, for he wished to share with her all that was important to him there. But he'd awoken before they'd been able to enter grounds.

Stephen's first impulse was to share the amazing details of his dream with Hope, but he found himself alone and given the time—mid-morning—he guessed she had already headed off to work. A supposition confirmed once he threw on his bathrobe and headed to the smaller of the Sanctum's two kitchens and found she'd left a travel mug filled with hot coffee on the counter, and a note beside it telling him a veggie omelet with a side if bacon was warming in the oven for him. And don't work too hard today, Stephen, she had added. You need to set some limits for yourself so that you don't get burnt out. If I have to, I will speak to Wong about it myself; there's no reason that some other wizard (or two or three) can't pick up the slack so that you can take better care of yourself! Or let me do that for you...

Of course, he ended up back in Kamar-Taj to teach an evening class, on Kathmandu time, and then back in Greenwich Village to oversee the monthly inventory of ancient relics. All the while, the images of that dream remained with him, softening the edges of his work day and making him long all the more for a chance to spend the kind of quality time with Hope, as he had in their dream sojourn to Kathmandu.

Only as he finalized the inventory figures, plugging them into the spreadsheet that one enterprising Adept had created to make the task easier, did Stephen realize there was nothing but taking the initiative of inviting her, keeping his dream from becoming reality. Refreshed as the very thought of sharing that very important piece of his life with her, he zipped off a text asking Hope if she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of the evening with him in the Sanctum. This was something he was looking forward to asking her in person, already sure that her spontaneous, brilliant smile and the twinkle in her remarkably blue eyes, would signal her answer in the affirmative well before she uttered 'yes'.

He had portaled them to an alleyway on the outskirts of the compound as a matter of discretion, but also because he wanted Hope to get a feel for the community and the environs surrounding the sacred grounds of Kamar-Taj. And in keeping with his dramatic nature, Stephen wanted her to experience the full reveal of the place he'd come to love best on earth, and that could only be achieved upon entering the main gate.

As he had expected, Hope was excited about this new adventure, commenting on the colorful market stalls they passed, as well as upon the wealth of green and growing things that marked the humble homes and small gardens wedged between the mish mosh of buildings that had grown up around their destination. "I've never seen such pretty little gardens growing at such close quarters," she exclaimed, "The Nepalese must have true green thumbs!"

"Ah, I was hoping you'd appreciate that," Stephen replied, and then went on to explain, "Because it's really a matter of magic..."

"You mean everyone here practices the mystic arts?"

Hope had slipped her arm through his, which in this place held a magic of its own for him. He laid his free hand atop hers and leaned a little closer, dropping his voice confidentially, "Actually, it's magic in the soil and water and air. Centuries and centuries of residual magic emanating from Kamar-Taj, which these plants have absorbed through their roots. In fact, the flowering & fruit trees and vegetable plants within the compound blossom year-round as a result, and over the years the effect has spread out from Kamar-Taj into the ground of the surrounding neighborhoods. Even those residents who are unaware of what we do here—thinking that we're a monastic order of sorts, dedicated to religious study—understand their bountiful gardens are related to their proximity...and consider themselves blessed to live this close."

"Deciduous trees, however..." he added, feeling the beat of his heart pick up its steady pace with delightful anticipation of Hope's reaction to this place that had healed him in so many ways, "...still experience the vibrant colors of fall before shedding their leaves, but they remain on the branches well into the new year–unless there comes wind and rain of hurricane proportions." With that they stood before the double doors of the intricately carved, two-story gateway. Stephen laid his palm against the thick, aged wood and spoke a single word. Reverently enough that he felt Hope lightly shiver at his side. "Shamballa." They heard a loud creak and then the doors swung open before them, allowing him to usher his woman inside.

Hope inhaled in amazement, but remained silent otherwise, as she took in vision all around her. Masters and students alike walked the clean swept cobblestones toward various buildings, while others lounged about the edges of the courtyard in small clusters of twos and threes. Stephen picked up on the soothing tinkling of chimes beneath the quiet conversations around them and the occasional decorous burst of laughter. Hope had tightened her hold on his arm as he led her forward, his goal an ancient tree of cherry blossoms that held place of pride among all the other growing things. He brought them to a stop just several feet from the low retaining wall that surrounded the tree's base.

"Oh my gosh...oh my gosh, Stephen! It's gorgeous...all of it. Gorgeous. Like something..." Hope did a slow spin, taking in the view all around, "...out of the myth of Shangri-La..."

"Not too far from it," he grinned, drinking in her reaction as though it was his own first time seeing the weathered, venerable buildings along with the verdant gardens and flowering trees, set against the glory of the pristine, snow blanketed mountain tops in the distance, beneath a spotless blue sky. "Kamar-Taj is a quiet gem in the mountains' shadows...a place to seek peace and tranquility for those blessed enough to find the path."

"If this were my home, I doubt I'd want to leave...well, at least for a very long time, anyway."

Stephen nodded. "Yes, for the longest time, it always felt more like home to me, than the New York Sanctum. When I've felt out of sorts or as though I'd lost my connection to the energy that is the basis of all magic, just returning was enough to restore me..."

"Was?" Hope wore a sly little smile, as though she already knew the answer to her simple query.

He took both of her hands, focusing his sight on their twined fingers. "Indeed. But my concept of home has changed considerably since Titan." He stepped into Hope, raising her hands to rest on his shoulders before settling his on her hips. "Home has become more than a place, sweetheart—because home for me, is now wherever you are." She blinked up at him guilelessly, moistening her lips in the prelude to a kiss. A warm, late summer breeze swirled around them, rustling the branches of the majestic cherry blossom tree, sending loosened petals fluttering artfully about them.

Hope's soft giggle enchanted him as, inevitably, petals landed on her dress and in her hair. "And it seems this place means to welcome you, sweetheart. In the prettiest way possible," he mused, reaching to brush the pretty, pink blossoms from her auburn hair.

"Wait," she asked softly, her eyes alight with the love that now sustained him in ways he'd never dared imagine could be his. "Leave them for now, Stephen. Please. I've never been kissed in a place of true magic, and it would be foolish to miss this chance like something out of a fairy tale."

Ever willing to cede to her requests, Stephen cupped her cheeks and drew her close and kissed her long and deep—not giving a second thought to the eyes around them that took note. While thinking that perhaps...someday...if they should marry, there could be no sweeter place on earth to undertake those vows. And promising himself that if there was no breeze that day, he'd be certain to stir enough of one to shower her in petals if it would please her well.

Author's Note: I'd fully meant to have Stephen be called away to duty—a meeting with Wong & the other Masters, or some such—so that when he returned at dusk, ready to apologize for missing out on their time together, he'd find Hope busy at her own work. Adding the perfect hues of pink and blue (for his robes) to her latest drawing, wherein he stood looking quite amused with petals caught in his jet black hair. In addition to a Blue Morpho butterfly alighting upon his shoulder. But I couldn't quite fit it in without disturbing the romantic ending to this piece. But please do feel free to imagine such a sight for yourselves!

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#my writing #No Place Like Home #romance #fluff #cherry blossoms #doctor strange x ofc #stephen strange x ofc #Stephen Strange #Hope Collins #Stephen Strange x Hope Collins #Doctor Strange #doctor strange fan fiction #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange fan fiction #stephen strange fanfiction #Strangebatch #My Eternal Muse #Benedict Cumberbqatch

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