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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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Slightly paraphrased, but Peeta talking about that moment he developed his crush on Katniss is just too sweet 😊

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 22-24 are below the cut (sprinkled in some psychology thoughts again).

heart

Honestly, I think the people in Panem would perceive the whole everlark storyline the same way we perceive and react to our ships on tv (desperately wanting to reach through the screen, shoving the characters forcefully together, screaming “And now, kiss!”); especially the Capitolites who barely recognize the tributes (or people in the districts, in general) as people. The people in the districts would definitely view the whole thing more under a “reality tv” kind of lens, questioning how much of the relationship is real or not (we know that Finnick certainly thought that the entire thing was just a spiel, until Peeta hit that forcefield). The time spent in the cave must have been pretty convincing, though.

mind

I think that Katniss is still torn here - On the one hand, she kind of wants to believe that Peeta is actually into her (remember the happiness she felt when Peeta told her how his crush on her began, and it all added up and seemed so real), but on the other hand she’s terrified of that possibility because A) lingering trauma from her mom’s depression in response the Mr. Everdeen’s death, B) Katniss never even considered falling in love, so that’s a sudden unexpected thing to deal with, and C) maybe it’s just for the sake of the Games; and wouldn’t that hurt, getting your hopes up only to learn it was only for show? (How about we ask Peeta about that?)

soul

Yeah, that quote about Peeta only eating stale bread also struck me as quite sad. It just further adds to his understanding how there should be more to life than just survival, though. (One day, I’ll make that post about Peeta, Katniss, and Maslow’s pyramid of needs, I swear! I’ve already gathered some research material)

Chapter 22

My mother’s hand strokes my cheek and I don’t push it away as I would in wakefulness, never wanting her to know how much I crave that gentle touch. How much I miss her even though I still don’t trust her. - Ugh, I can’t... Katniss misses her mom, misses being cared for😢 I’m so glad we’re going to see her patch up her relationship with her mom in CF... On a different note, Katniss craving that gentle touch just perfectly illustrates why she’s so drawn to Peeta, who is generally such a gentle soul (I mean, he’s literally the person stroking her cheek here 😊)

He [Peeta] doesn’t seem angry about my tricking him, drugging him, and running off to the feast. Maybe I’m just too beat-up and I’ll hear about it later when I’m stronger. But for the moment, he’s all gentleness. - As I was saying... 😉

“I’ll go hunting soon,” I say. “Not too soon, all right?” he says. “You just let me take care of you for a while.” - I love them so much😊🥰 And then Peeta makes sure she’s well-fed and hydrated, he rubs her cold feet and tucks her into the sleeping back... and she let’s him! 💗

“He [Thresh] let you go because he didn’t want to owe you anything?” asks Peeta in disbelief. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand it. You’ve always had enough. But if you’d lived in the Seam, I wouldn’t have to explain,” I say. “And don’t try. Obviously I’m too dim to get it,” he says. - Oof. This exchange here is interesting in many ways: 1) it highlights their different experiences, tied to their different socioeconomic backgrounds, basically, and 2) that Katniss is very much aware of this difference, but we also see hints of her own ignorance here - because Peeta didn’t have to starve in his childhood, she thinks that he can’t possibly understand this level of hardship; but there are other ways in which one can suffer/lack fundamental needs, which brings us to 3) Peeta’s response about being “obviously too dim to get it”; I think this is a clue to his mom being also verbally abusive towards him: she called him “stupid creature” when he burnt those loaves of bread for Katniss and when he’s losing it in the attic of the Justice Building in D11 in CF he is mad that Katniss and Haymitch keep things from him “like [he’s] too inconsequential or stupid or weak to handle them”, which - to me - sounds like he’s tired of being treated that way (i.e. the way his mother treats him)

“I want to go home, Peeta,” I say plaintively, like a a small child. - God, this is a teenager in a murder-arena who feels like wanting to go home is a childish notion instead of a totally legitimate wish for anyone in that situation, regardless of age 😢

It’s not that Peeta’s soft exactly, and he’s proved he’s not a coward. But there are things you don’t question too much, I guess, when your home always smells like baking bread, whereas Gale questions everything. What would Peeta think of the irreverent banter that passes between us as we break the law each day? Would it shock him? The things we say about Panem? Gale’s tirades against the Capitol? - Geez, Katniss, give Peeta some credit here! A) It’s not like Peeta can walk around District 12 talking publicly about the injustices happening there - she and Peeta hadn’t even talked with each other before the reaping, whereas Gale is her best friend who rants to her while they are outside the confines of D12 and B) Peeta is literally the one who introduced the whole “not a piece in their Games”-idea to her; why would he be clutching his pearls over Katniss and Gale’s irreverent banter?! Just because Peeta didn’t live on the brink of starvation (she again brings up how his house smells like bread and - at this point - still thinks that the family running the bakery actually gets to eat what they produce just like that), doesn’t mean he doesn’t see how shitty life in D12 is - he can still want better conditions for those who are worse off than him!

“I did do the right thing,” I say. “No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?” - Well, we’ll see this song and dance again in CF...

And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. [...] And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.” - I wish CF Katniss would remember this moment when she is questioning her motives about saving Peeta’s life in the arena - You. Care. For. This. Boy! You. Value. Him. For. Who. He. Is!!!

This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. [...] This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. - Whoo! Is it hot in here or is it just me? 😉

I’m struck by his immediacy now. As we settle in, he pulls my head down to use his arm as a pillow; the other rests protectively over me even when he goes to sleep. No one has held me like this in such a long time. Since my father died and I stopped trusting my mother, no one else’s arms have made me feel this safe. - He makes her feel safe in a murder-arena!!! 😭 This is the kind of stuff that makes everlark just a top tier romance, tbh

Peeta telling Katniss about his crush starting on their first day of school 🥰😭 - and her reaction to it... For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy - yes, because you have a crush on him, too! - and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff [...] So, if those details are true... could it all be true? - YESSSSSSSS!!!

“You have a... remarkable memory, “ I say haltingly. - as a severely socially awkward person... I felt that lame response in my bones 😅

“You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. - God, this would be such an amazing moment if it didn’t get tainted by that immediate sponsor gift, which just serves to muddle Katniss’s feelings with her sense of survival, further complicating her relationship with Peeta... *sigh*

Chapter 23

“What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...” “I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush. “Oh, that’s right. That’s what I was thinking,” he says. - Peeta is the master of being a cheeky little shit and adorable flirt at the same time

“So, since we were five, you never even noticed any other girls?” I ask him. “No, I noticed just about every girl, but none of them made a lasting impression but you,” he says. - I appreciate that while Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever, he clearly didn’t spend the entire time pining after her, oblivious to the rest of the world - he has a life outside of Katniss Everdeen, but ultimately, it all lead back to her

A disturbing thought hits me. “But then, our only neighbor will be Haymitch!” “Ah, that’ll be nice,” says Peeta, tightening his arms around me. “You and me and Haymitch. Very cozy. Picnics, birthdays, long winter nights around the fire retelling old Hunger Games tales.” “I told you, he hates me!” I say, but I can’t help laughing at the image of Haymitch becoming my new pal. - Laugh all you want, this is going to end up being your future anyway 😄

He [Haymitch]’s at something of a disadvantage because most mentors have a partner, another victor to help them whereas Haymitch has to bready to go into action at any moment. Kind of like me when I was alone in the arena. I wonder how he’s holding up, with the drinking, the attention, and the stress of tring to keep us alive. - Katniss is already worrying about her “new pal”, I see ;)

Maybe he [Haymitch] wasn’t always a drunk. Maybe, in the beginning, he tried to help the tributes. But then it got unbearable. It must be hell to mentor two kids and then watch them die. - Honestly, that sounds absolutely awful...

Poor, Katniss, when she learns of Thresh’s death :( - But no one will understand my sorrow at Thresh’s murder. - It’s horrible how compassion and basic human decency gets construed as ‘weakness’ in the world of Hunger Games (esp. the Capitol)

Then I escape into sleep, comforted by a full belly and the steady warmth of Peeta beside me. - Honestly, I think a word analysis of THG-series could be interesting; how often does Katniss mention “warmth”, “steady/steadiness” “safe/safety/security” in connection with “Peeta”?

“We make a goat cheese and apple tart at the bakery,” he says. “Bet that’s expensive,” I say. “Too expensive for my family to eat. Unless it’s gone very stale. Of course, practically everything we eat is stale,” says Peeta [...] Huh. I always assumed the shopkeepers live a soft life. And it’s true, Peeta has always had enough to eat. But there’s something kind of depressing about living your life on stale bread - Katniss is starting to realize that the lives of the merchants isn’t a cushy as she thought; also, in a way, we see a “prettier” version of how Panem treats the districts overall -> feeding the districts just enough that they can do their work (plus/minus a couple of people who’ll die of starvation, but at a small, for Capitolites insignificant margin), but not so much that they are in good shape to rebel; here, the merchants of D12 have just enough that they can live a “decent” life (they know it could be worse -> the Seam), but they don’t have enough to live a free, comfortable, self-determined life either. This also just further drives a wedge between the inhabitants of D12 (the merchants won’t want to rebel because they don’t want to get ‘demoted’ in their lifestyle, starving like the people from the Seam, and the Seam folk feel resentful towards the merchant people, while also not having the resources to rebel, due to their awful socioeconomic conditions)

What would be my life like on a daily basis? Most of it has been consumed with the acquisition of food. Take that away and I’m not really sure who I am, what my identity is. - It’s so sad who Katniss has been so consumed with ensuring that her most base needs are fulfilled that she barely has had the time to really figure out who she is and what she wants from life (If we’re talking Maslow’s pyramid of needs, Katniss would primarily be stuck on the lowest tier 😢)

At least, we’ll be friends, I think. Nothing will change the fact that we’ve saved each other’s lives in here. And beyond that, he will always be the boy with the bread. Good friends. - Honestly, Katniss counting on being good friends with Peeta after the Games is the highest honor she can bestow on him at that moment (she’s so into him, lol); of course, knowing that their relationship is going to be a bit rocky once they’ve come back makes this thought a little sad... but we also know they’ll make up (and out ;) in the future

Peeta licking his plate and blowing a kiss out to Effie is such an adorable goofball-moment 😊

I cover his mouth with my hand, but I’m laughing. “Stop! Cato could be right outside our cave.” He grabs my hand away. “What do I care? I’ve got you to protect me now,” says Peeta, pulling me to him. - This moment would be so cute (also, Peeta’s so confident in Katniss’s skills to protect him, which is adorable - toxic masculinity who?) but... Ugh, he’s just so giddy here, it kind of breaks my heart for when he learns later that (at least some) of Katniss’s reactions were just for show

“If we want food, we better head back up to my old hunting grounds,” I say. “Your call, Just tell me what you need me to do,” Peeta says. - Love how Peeta’s always ready to follow Katniss’s lead :)

Ideally, I’d dump Peeta now with some simple root-gathering chore and go hunt [...] “Katniss,” he says. “We need to split up. I know I’m chasing away the game.” [...] “Show me some plants to gather and that way we’ll both be useful.” - Teamwork! If it weren’t for Katniss worrying for Peeta’s safety, they’d be on the same page here

“What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I haunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work. “What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone. - I really like how Peeta’s challenges Katniss here; he doesn’t just go along with everything she says, while still being quite reasonable

I feel like I’m eleven, again, tethered not to the safety of the fence but to Peeta, allowing myself twenty, maybe thirty yards of hunting space. [...] I allow myself to drift farther away, and soon have two rabbits and a fat squirrel to show for it. - I don’t know, but Katniss feeling tethered to Peeta makes me think of Mary Ainsworth’s attachment theory, according to which children with a secure attachment to their primary caregiver use their “attachment figure as a safe base to explore the environment”... Of course, Ainsworth’s Strange Situation was conducted with young children, but attachment styles are supposed to influence the relationships we form with people in our later lives as well (including romantic relationships)... I dunno, just a random association that popped into my brain 😅

Chapter 24

Peeta’s a whiz with fires, coaxing a blaze out of the damp wood. - Heh, Peeta sure knows how to handle fire, huh, Katniss (or should I say: Girl on Fire?) 😏

I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for him when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I’m so greateful that he’s still here, not dead by the stream as I’d thought. - Aww, this is so sweet (and domestic)!

It’s funny. I feel almost as if it’s the first day of the Games again. That I’m in the same position. [...] But no, there’s the boy waiting beside me. I feel his arms wrap around me. - They are a team! Katniss doesn’t have to face the horrors of the Games alone anymore! It keeps boiling down to this.

#thgagain #thg #hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #my sketches and drawings #everlark

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

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Sanguine Nocturnus | 1

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : I know I said I’d wait. But y’all have been clamoring...

Death has a way of manipulating time. Moments meant to go slowly end in a blink, while junctures that ought to speed past, linger like dew on the vine...

Carla Montanari stared at her mother’s corpse, waiting for her to move. Waiting for the only family she’d ever had to open her eyes and say it was all a joke. Her mother had always had a cutting sense of humor; no topic was off-limits, and as she aged, death was a favored punchline. Now, it seemed, her mother had pulled off the ultimate prank, though Carla failed to see the humor in it.

The mortician had done an excellent job all things considered, but Carla could still pick out the differences between the body that lay at the altar of Saint Vincent’s and the one she had grown up with. A jaw that had been given too much lift, makeup that was a shade or two darker than what her mother normally wore, wrinkles that had disappeared when her face had been sewn back together. She’d been told she was lucky to get an open-casket service at all, given how much trauma her mother had suffered, as if it were some sort of consolation prize.

Looking behind her, Carla did a headcount of those in attendance, smiling softly when she saw that her mother’s bingo group were all in attendance, each woman donning their Sunday best in order to pay their respects. What her mother lacked in family, she’d more than made up for in friends who were all cut from the same cloth. Good, salt-of-the-earth people. Carla had always envied how easily her mother made friends, how she could chat up anyone, no matter how different their background and find something in common. It was a skill she hadn’t passed down, leaving her daughter to carve out a small handful of friends who were more acquaintances than anything else.

Crossing herself, Carla took a deep breath, looked down at her mother once more, and finally leaned down to kiss the cold, clammy skin of her forehead, doing her best to ignore the faint waft of formaldehyde that filled the casket. A solitary white rose tucked beneath her mother’s hands was Carla’s final act before turning away.

Time blinked, and she found herself seated across from her mother’s lawyer, a slab of mahogany separating them, the coffee she’d been offered growing cold as the AC hit it from overhead.

“I suppose we can do away with formality, since it’s just you,” the older man said, his smile tight and distant. Carla nodded, feeling as though the man wanted to be done so he could attend to other, more important, matters.

“Your mother left all her possessions and accounts to you, no surprise there. She gifted her friends each an item from her apparently extensive purse collection, so we’ll facilitate that for you. The accounts are all in order, and what isn’t used to pay off her final bills, will be transferred to your account by the end of the month. Lastly, there’s the matter of the inheritance. This may be news to you, but your grandmother set up an inheritance in your name when you were born. Initially, it was meant to pay for college, but when you got your full ride, your mother decided to keep it going until her passing. Her hope was to give you a nice nest egg for retirement, or your first house...something to that effect.”

Carla looked down at the document, counting and recounting the total in disbelief. Her mother had always been terrible at keeping secrets, having given away things to her friends that had mortified Carla when she was younger.

Guess you were better at it than I thought.

Inhaling deeply, Carla sat back in her chair, hoping the meeting was over. The quicker she could get out into the fresh air, the better off she’d be.

“There’s one more thing,” her mother’s lawyer said, keeping Carla rooted to her seat even as the muscles in her legs twitched in readiness to stand up. “Your mother wanted to ensure you were aware of the fact that you have legal claim to Italian citizenship, if you should ever choose to take it. They call it Jure Sanguinis; Right of Blood. The process can be expedited, given that you’re only second generation American. Sign here and we can get it in motion for you.”

Carla signed blindly, eyes unblinking as she tried to process the information. Her mother had always been a planner, but had never once mentioned so much as a will to Carla. Now, seeing everything packaged up so neatly, her mind spun wildly.

“Think you know a person…” She muttered mostly to herself, the lawyer giving her another one of his performative smiles, his eyes going to his watch for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes.

Leaving the office with a folder and the untouched coffee, Carla couldn’t help but feel time begin to crawl, reinforcing the feelings of numbness and solitude that would haunt her for weeks to come.

Working steps from Wall Street had its perks. Tips were usually far more generous than in other parts of town, fights were rare, and drunk girls crying over their shitty boyfriends were nonexistent. None of that made it any easier, however. Frat boys turned into day traders, socialites grew even more entitled as their brunches turned into botox appointments, and there was never a shortage of patronizing stares for those that had to actually work for a living. For Carla, navigating the catcalls, one-liners, and straight-up sexual misconduct was easy enough; it was the entitlement that never failed to get under her skin.

“Um, hello? Waitress? This is wrong. I asked for a Negroni.” Looking up, Carla swept her long black hair over her shoulder as she processed the words that were spoken. Having decided to keep living life as though things hadn’t irrevocably changed, Carla was doing her best to ignore the stress that had been slowly creeping higher and higher each day. Busy nights at the bar were proving the worst, with Carla coming through the door at the end of her shift ready to rant about the night to her mother, only to find the place pin-drop silent and utterly empty.

Looking down at the drink, Carla gazed back up at the woman with the blond, news anchor hair and cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“That is a Negroni.”

“Uh,” the woman snorted in disbelief, “no it’s not. Remake it, and do it right this time.”

“This is a Negroni. One part gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari each, with a peel of lemon.” The woman laughed condescendingly and Carla could feel her patience start to disappear.

“No, a Negroni, if you knew anything about bartending--which you clearly don’t--is made with Rye and dry vermouth.”

“Lady, I make at least ten of these a night. I work six nights a week. You’re the first, and only, person to ever tell me it’s wrong. You’re thinking of an Old Pal, and I’d be more than happy to make that for you, but this? This is a Negroni, which is what you asked for.”

“Fine, we’ll see about that.” The woman huffed, her manicured hand slicing through the air in a dismissive motion.

“That’ll be $10.99.”

“Absolutely NOT! I’m not paying for your mistake. Make it again, make it right, and make it now!” The woman crowed, her hair imobile as she shook her head, looking for all the world like Carla had slapped her.

“It’s a different drink. You paid for a Negroni, you got a Negroni. You want an Old Pal, you pay for an Old Pal.” Carla replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for the woman to make up her mind.

The alcohol burned Carla’s eyes and she stumbled back in shock, moving towards the large sink she knew was behind her on pure instinct. Washing her face to get as much of the cocktail off as she could, she knew she’d reached her breaking point.

Any other time and she’d have brushed it off, had security kick the woman out and gone about her night. Now? She’d had enough. Moving slowly to the back, Carla took off her apron, hung it up next to her coworkers’ and slipped out the back door.

Nearly sprinting the whole way home, it was only as she stepped through the door of her apartment that the tears came unbidden. Sliding down the wall, Carla cried for the first time since her mother’s passing.

The next morning, after calling in her notice, Carla allowed herself a day to simply be. To scream, to cry, to let out all the emotions that had befallen her since answering the phone that fateful night and hearing that her mother had died in such a vicious and preventable way. She let rage fill every vein as she thought about how the person who hit her hadn’t even bothered to stay at the scene. She lamented every missed moment, every fight, every what-if. Finally, she curled up in her mother’s robe, and cried herself to sleep.

Knowing she couldn’t handle another day at a bar like the one on Wall Street, catering to bratty adults who’d never been told no a day in their lives, Carla began leaning more and more towards escaping it all. Her now-empty apartment, her routine assortment of familiar faces (none of whom had even bothered to call and offer condolences), and more than anything, the city itself; all of it seemed worthless and foreign without her mother’s smiling face. As she sat and scrolled through picture after picture on her phone, the promise of a new life in Italy seemed more feasible, and more and more necessary.

On day three, after a day spent mostly in bed, dreaming about the possibilities of what life could bring now that she was committed to leaving, Carla put in a call to the lawyer, vaguely remembering the document she’d signed. There was nothing but relief when she was told they were simply waiting for a few more documents to finalize it all.

With the foundation for her new life in place, Carla began to flesh out the bones, focusing her research on where to live, and who was hiring. Though the inheritance was enough to live comfortably for several years, Carla didn’t want to squander it. Moreover, she still wanted to work and feel useful in some way; early retirement could wait.

While she was spoilt for choice when it came to renting, a job was harder to come by. Carla started her search with the lofty goal of finding something where she could put her history degree to good use; a research assistant, a curator, hell, a tour guide. When it became clear that her lack of experience was a hurdle she wouldn’t be able to cross so easily, Carla reluctantly turned to what she knew.

Weeks went by like thick molasses as she looked at bar after bar, finding that they either weren’t hiring, or looked like the kind of place people went into and never came out of. Her options were narrow to start with, since Carla had her heart set on Rome, the need to entrench herself in one of the world’s oldest cities, one she couldn’t possibly ignore. With each day that passed, she felt her dream beginning to slip away. Carla was nothing if not tenacious, one of the few traits she’d shared with her mother, and despite feeling discouraged at her prospects, she kept looking.

Finally, as the clock nearly ran out on her deadline to provide proof of employment, Carla found the perfect spot. Though the bar catered to a higher-end clientele, gone were the stockbrokers and lawyers, and in their place, a younger, cooler set. Attracted to the dark, almost feral, atmosphere the bar promised in its advertising, Carla applied, crossing her fingers in the hopes that they’d call.

She was still browsing the site when her phone rang and the owner greeted her in a thick, Italian accent. Breezing through the interview questions, Carla’s eyes roved over the pictures of all the beautiful people that frequented the night spot, pulled in by how effortlessly cool each of them looked. With the promise to call her by the end of the week to confirm the position, the owner ended the call, and it was all Carla could do not to jump for joy.

Flopping back on the bed, she couldn’t help but let herself feel true happiness, happiness which she’d unconsciously been denying herself while she mourned her mother’s death. Though she’d been dealt a life-changing blow, Carla felt as though, slowly but surely, time was going back to its usual pace, and her life was taking a turn for the better.

With a smile from ear to ear, she sat back up and emailed the lawyer, confirming she’d gotten a job, an apartment, and a plane ticket to Rome. As the message zipped away and the window closed, Carla found her eyes drawn back to the website, and her new place of employment.

Romulus

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals #sanguine nocturnus

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justagirlsearchingforamuse · 4 years

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A/N: So here is my first twd and first Negan smut, I posted this on ao3 where I will take requests and the link will be somewhere around here but I hope you guys enjoy and have a good filthy fucking time, lol.

The sound of heavy footsteps could be heard in the empty store covered and coated with dust, serene silence had filled the entire store long ago and left it untouched and latex was a scent that remained strong in the store. His eager forest green eyes darted around the store as so many things caught his interest, so many things to play with, so many ways to punish you and the rest of his lovely wives. He had a few other men with him like always, grumpy and always seen as no shit taken kinda guys but with this trip, they couldn't stop grinning and staring at everything that the store had. "Mmh, so whaddya' think guys ... should I pick up a few toys for my girls? ... Give them something to fuck themselves with whilst I'm gone." Negan chuckled devilishly to himself as he crouched down in front of a tall shelf full of many phallic-shaped toys that were now covered in large amounts of dust. A wide box with many smaller yet more pleasurable toys lied in the box, picking up one of the toys, he rubs the dust off of the small silver vibrator, grinning devilishly at the small toy he chuckles. This will be perfect. That's all that Negan thinks of with a sly grin on his lips, he slips it into his back pockets before picking up the dusty old box of toys and motions one of his men over. "Here, take this to my truck, I just wanna have a look around ... see whatever the fuck there is to see," Negan announced, handing the large man the dusty box.

"Of course, boss ...", the man answered carrying the decently sized box out into the driveway, obeying his commands sheepishly almost with a cheesy grin at the mere sight of anything shaped like a penis. Negan grins to himself before sluggishly moving his way towards the opposite end of the store, eager to see what else the untouched store had to offer him. An almost genuine grin always rested upon his lips. But my, my, my did he have some plans for you being his latest wife that he took under his wing. You had taken your time with Negan, you knew he had his eyes on you for quite a while but you weren't going to marry him without knowing something about him, you spent a little while getting to know him. You went on dates here and there even though a good portion of those dates were just you guys driving away from the Saviors and having lunch somewhere else. Or Negan and you spend almost all day in his bedroom, no fucking, no weapons, no zombies just two people in baggy clothes and not a fuck to give in the world as you guys either talked or watched movies. Honestly, you had made your decision when he started opening up to you more or when he started to smile more around you, or when he just seemed lighter and more alive. You thought things might be different. Now here you are, hanging out with one of his wives, a glass of water for you as you both talked about your past lives before hell had became reality. You both relaxed on the couch, she grinned widely at your past with more than one of his wives always holding a glass of wine, honestly, you weren't a big fan of alcohol especially since you didn't have the best past. One dealing with alcoholism and it was your past that you kept buried.

The wives weren't that bad at least not most of them, sure some of them gave you the side-eye or would bump into you purposefully but you weren't big on conflict or drawing attention to yourself so nothing ever came of it. You take a sip of your water, unaware of the mischief that Negan has in store for you and only you alone. Sighing to yourself as one of Negan's wives rambles on and on to you about one of her stupid shitty exes, you can't help but feel Negan slip and slither his way into your mind. You thought about when he would be back, even wondering if he was safe, licking your lips a sigh soon falls from them before you see the wide black doors swing open and there is your husband, Negan. He's grinning widely, forcing it on a little too much as he comes in a tall yet decent sized box, immediately almost everyone's minds wondered what was in the box. "Hey, ladies ...! As you know I always keep my promises and I promised to bring my lovely wives something that they'd enjoy. Just a little token of my appreciation for ya'll ..." Negan exclaims excitedly, moving and rubbing his hands together as the poor prisoner who had to carry it had set it down, opening the box and you could hear glass clinking together. Ugh, alcohol. You immediately rolled your eyes, sighing to yourself before thinking of maybe snagging a bottle of something in case of emergencies, you knew that Negan and mostly everyone there loved alcohol. It's not that you didn't like alcohol especially since you found yourself drinking more often than not due to stress but you just didn't want to acquire a habit that you couldn't get freed of. You watched as all the girls got up to go see what was in the box and the excitement that you could feel in the room as they all began to raid the box for alcohol.

You remained seated on the couch with a glass of water, sighing to yourself before taking a sip, thinking to yourself about your past for a few moments making you swallow your water deeply at the painful memories. "Why don't you go and grab a bottle before they steal it all ...? Oh, my bad ... you know starting to get forgetful, you rarely drink and even then you always complain about how bad it smells ..." Negan chuckles to himself, grinning at you eagerly as he couldn't stop thinking about the small pocket vibrator in his back pocket, all he had to do was do a little convincing and maybe you'd agree to it. You nearly jumped at his sudden appearance, you chuckle at his words before resting a hand upon your chest as you couldn't stop yourself from grinning in front of Negan. He is standing right beside the couch, right next to your body, you sigh deeply before finally responding. " ... I don't have a favorite ... I mean ... eh, I'll tell you more about it as time goes on and if we're still standing. Also, wanted to cut back a bit on my drinking, ya know?" You respond, holding a now empty glass in the palm of your hands, both of your eyes meet for a few moments and you can sense the lust, the eagerness that darkened his eyes. "Yeah, but since you're not doing anything, darling ... I wanted to talk with you in my room, that's if you don't want to sit here and just drink water ..." Negan snickered, taking your hand into his own before you sighed deeply and got up from the couch, his hand still intertwined with yours. You both walk out of the room, the women almost done searching for their preferred bottle of alcohol, his bedroom was a door or 2 down from that room. He opens the door to his bedroom for you with a wide grin resting upon his lips, you enter his bedroom which was neat as always which you always appreciated. "So ... what did you want to talk about? ... Is it good or bad?" You ask, crossing your arms as you couldn't deny that always on edge feeling that stuck like gum at the bottom of your shoes. He chuckles at your question, he licks his lips before sitting down on the bed, rubbing his chin he can't help but like how smart you are, how you question his intentions.

"Awe, darling you always keep yourself on your toes, don't ya? ... I have a very special gift for you, my darling ... it may be small but it does plenty of fucking damage." He answers, a smirk curling onto the sides of his lips, you can sense the mischief in his expression and you expect it to be something that would embarrass you but it also left you eager to find out what it was. "What are you bringing Dwight to fuck me ...? Cause you already know my thoughts on that, love." You chuckle, rolling your eyes with a devilish grin curling onto your lips, Negan couldn't stop himself from chuckling before putting a hand on his chest. "Oh, darling ... aren't you able to murder people with your words? But that's not it, my dear wife ... I'll show you it, I think you'll enjoy it. A lot." Negan chuckles, stopping himself from nearly bursting into laughter at your words, he digs his hand through his pocket and pulls out the small silver bullet vibrator. He then pulls out the remote control he found scavenging through the store, you stare at the silver toy in the palm of his hands for a few moments before biting your lips. "I ... we can use it in the bedroom ... you don't have to ask me twice, ha. I'll enjoy this gift, Negan ... thank you, love." You say, trying to hide the smile that curled onto your lips, you sit beside him and reach out to take it from the palm of his hand before he balls his hand up into a fist. "Ah, ah, ah~ ...! Not yet, my darling ... you must know that I want to do so much more than just use this in the bedroom. ... If anything, I've been thinking of all the ways I could use this little fuckin' toy on you outside of the bedroom." Negan confesses, a smirk resting upon his lips as your mouth becomes agape at the idea that he just explained to you.

"But ... I don't know if I'll be able to handle it. I just have never done something like that, I mean that sounds like it can be so fucking embarrassing. Is that what you want to do? Embarrass me?" You exclaim, your cheeks now a rosy red and your lips pursed together. Negan chuckles before moving his hand onto your exposed thigh, you can feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you can already see it. You can see you making a fool out of yourself, you can see yourself being branded in the eyes of some as a slut or a whore because of this idea. It mortifies you. "Come on, darling ... you know if things get too messy or too embarrassing I'll drag you off to my bedroom and make it up to you, love. It'll just be for 10 minutes, I wanna see how you handle it. Still, we don't have to if you're not keen on that idea." Negan purrs in your ear, you can feel your body shudder at the lewd and sultriness that drips off of every word, you take in a breath as you can feel his hand travel even higher. Licking your lips, you can feel your cheeks become even hotter and your body is surrendering to all of his charms and you can't stop yourself from being interested in the idea, you can't stop yourself from wanting to see how it plays out. " ... I'm interested in it. But you better keep your promise, if things get too embarrassing or if I draw too much attention then drag me out of there." You exclaim, grasping at his infamous leather jacket and you turn your attention towards him, you could see and just sense the lust and the arousal that darkened his eyes, that influenced his body. He chuckles as his devilish grin grows even wider, he licks his lips before burying his face into your neck, sucking and nipping at the smooth skin.

"Mmh ..." You groan, your fingers tangle themselves in his air and you can feel his hand press against the hem of your panties, igniting this spark of arousal that had you gasping his name lowly. You feel his fingers pull and tug at the waistband of your panties as he slowly pulls them down to your ankles, he then takes the slim and short toy and spreads your legs apart. You can't help but shiver and shudder at the cold feeling of the metal entering you, your walls cling to the slender toy and you can feel Negan's hands pull your panties back up onto your waist. He pulls away from your neck, before pressing a sloppy yet messy kiss against your lips, he savors the messy aspect of the kiss as you can feel his tongue try and pry your lips apart. You grin into the kiss before pulling away shyly, your eyes dart away from his lustful ones, your hands rest themselves on his shoulders. "Come on, let's see how this goes, love." You shyly say, getting up from the bed as you straighten your skirt out, you can feel every hair on the surface of your skin stand tall and your nerves become more visible. Boy, did he make a fool out of you, God the first 5 minutes were mortifying.

You were 5 minutes into it and you already felt your legs were numb, your thighs were soaked and dripping with your juices that struggled to stay in your underwear, your entire body was throbbing and aching with demand. Biting your bottom lip, you found yourself on the balcony where Negan announces whatever he needs to tell the community, you felt the toy vibrate erratically and strongly inside of you causing you to bite your tongue hard. Everyone had given you weird looks, you could barely contain yourself and you were completely redfaced, gripping the railing you were panting heavily as Negan had stood right beside you, shit-eating grin widely on his lips. Him enjoying this was an understatement, fuck, he loved seeing you struggle to contain your filthy fucking urges, he loved hearing those low moans that you let slip when no one else was around. But most of all he loved when you came, how your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, and how your legs shook before an audible groan slipped from your lips, he's surprised at how much control he has over himself. He's surprised he hasn't bent you over yet and fucked you hard, oh wait he might do just that. "Negan ... please ... oh fuck ... turn it down, please ...!" You whimpered, leaning against the railing before a moan was pried from your lips at the feeling of the vibrations becoming even stronger. You felt your body weaken and give in to those strong jolts of ecstasy that traveled all over your entire body, leaving it aching and begging for more. "Not yet, darling ... do you know how fucking hot you are right now? I'm surprised I haven't done this sooner, babygirl. I bet you're just so fucking wet because of a stupid fucking toy, aren't you, darling?" Negan chuckles, his words whispered in your ears as not to alert the guards who remained below you both. Biting your bottom lip, you just want him inside of you, you want to feel his cock throbbing in you, you want to feel his hot cum fill your insides. "P-Please ... I need you so fucking bad, love ..." You whine, clutching at his jacket once again, your eyes pleading desperately with his own, smirking devilishly at you, he grabs you by your chin with greedy eyes. "Beg for it, darlin' ... show me how much you want me to fuck that tight little pussy of yours ..." Negan purrs in your ear, his other hand feeling up your trembling body as you gnawed at your lips, hating him for teasing you even more. "I swear to fucking god, Negan ... please ... give it to me." You whispered, tugging even harder at his leather jacket before you greedily devour his lips, his large slender hands cup your cheeks as he grins into your lips, letting a deep groan slip in between your lips.

"Mmh, darlin' ... show me how much you want it. Get on your knees, baby ... worship my cock and give me a reason to fuck you until you're beggin' for more." Negan chuckles, licking his lips as you waste no time in getting on your knees as your fingers grope and rub against the tall bulge in his jeans. "You better keep your word ..." You mutter beneath your breath as you unzip his jeans, you can hear low and distant snickers from down below, making you nearly roll your eyes at the thought that they were listening. Negan didn't care. No, he didn't give a fuck. As long as they did their damn jobs, everything is gonna be peachy. You can feel his hand cradling the back of your head as you pull his boxers down as well, his thick meaty erection sprang forth, leaking and eager for your warm touch. "Go on ... I'm startin' to get a bit impatient, darlin' ..." Negan coos, a devilish smile planted on his lips before that smile fades away into a long satisfying groan leaving his lips at the new yet familiar warmth wrapped around the head of his cock. Fuck. You lightly suck on the head of his throbbing cock, you wrap your hand firmly around his meaty veiny shaft, you slowly stroke him causing sheer waves of bliss rippling through him. "Damn, darlin' ..." He groans breathlessly, licking his lips, low sucking noises echoed through the large garage, he is savoring and relishing in the idea that his own men are seeing you bend to his very will. Goddamn. You start to move your hands away from his shaft and you wrap your slender fingers around his thighs to keep him still as you engulfed more of his throbbing cock in between your lips earning a light tug at your hair. He's biting at his tongue, swallowing the saliva that had coated his mouth, he could feel the warmth just surround and embrace his throbbing cock eagerly, strong and sustained jolts of ecstasy washed over him mercilessly. "Fuckin' hell, that feels so fuckin' good baby ..." Negan groans, the urge is there to shove your head down further onto his cock but he knows that with patience comes good things. That's if he could handle it or hold himself back.

"That's it, baby ... worship my cock, take my cock in between those pretty little lips of yours like that ..." Negan chuckles before a moan is pried from his lips, you begin to suck him off even harder, causing this energetic sensation to wash over him, of course, it's indescribable but only with thoughts of it being fucking amazing. You begin to slowly move your head back and forth on his throbbing cock, you can feel him twitch and throb in between your lips as you take him almost effortlessly in your mouth. Negan isn't holding back, he's groaning your name and clutching a fistful of your hair as he isn't shy about showing how good your mouth feels around his cock. Little to no time passes before you're bobbing your head at a swifter pace, your head glides up and down his throbbing cock earning deep groans and curses from Negan at the ecstasy that plagues his being. He can feel his body become heated, his heart is pulsating and throbbing in his ribcage as he can feel his entire body fall victim to the ecstasy that you gave him. Groaning deeply, he yanks you off of his cock with a sharp pull of your hair before grabs you by your arms, nearly shocking you before he bends you over onto the balcony instantly. You can feel him nearly rip your panties off of you as they fall to your feet. "Baby, you still want this ...? I promise I won't be gentle ..." Negan whispers in your ear, you grin devilishly at him before agreeing eagerly. "Alright ... don't be shy when I'm up in that tight pussy of yours ... let them hear how only I can make you feel, baby girl ..." Negan purrs in your ear.

He licks his lips before rubbing the head of his cock up and down your soaked slit earning a closed mouth moan from you before he drove himself swiftly into you. "Fuck ..." You gasp at the unfamiliar sensation of Negan's thick meaty cock stretching your walls once more and filling you up to the brim. God, you felt everything in your body just tingle and throb with greed and a need for Negan to fill your pussy with his hot semen, just the thought made your body ache for his cock. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, his thrusts start heavy and rough earning low needy whines of his name leave your parted lips along with heavy breaths that rang through the room. You can see 2 men guarding the balcony with long rifles in their grasps, their backs turned towards you and you know that they're hearing everything, you heard them snickering and smiling to themselves but you don't care. Negan grunts deeply, your walls cling to his throbbing cock and the warmth is even better, burning hot waves of ecstasy tear through him with every heavy and rough movement of his hips inside of you. Tugging at your hair, he continues to slowly move his hips in and out of your heat yet he's struggling to keep himself from moaning like a woman in heat, fuck he'd have to fuck you more often now. It was exhilarating. "Negan ...! I thought you promised me ... anything but gentle ..." You groan, trying to tease him into ramming his cock into you at a much faster pace. He chuckles, heavy breaths leaving his lips before his hand swiftly smacks across your ass causing you to jump at the stinging sensation that spread across your ass. "Don't tease me ... I swear I will have you screaming my name without giving a fuck ... I'll do it over and over again until you pass out. If anything I might as well do that, ha ..." Negan purrs in your ear, chuckling before he begins to slam his hips into you earning a hoarse cry from your lips at how his cock repeatedly hit your sweet spot. "Negan ...! Oh, fuck ...! Oh, yeah!" You cried out shamelessly, pure fucking ecstasy rippling and vibrating through you relentlessly, leaving you clinging to the railing as cries flew from your lips. Negan's grunts echoed through your ears as he continued to pull himself out of you swiftly before slamming back into you relentlessly and mercilessly. The way you said his name, fucking hell, it just drove him to fuck you even harder.

"Yeah, take it ... scream my name, don't ever let me catch you ... saying anyone else's name ... you're mine. Mine." Negan growled deeply in your ear, he's lightly tugging at your hair before he pulls away from your face, his hands are gripping your hips firmly as his hips slam into you harshly. Your pussy is clinging firmly to his throbbing cock and you're only getting wetter, he can taste heaven when he's inside of you, he can feel how amazing, how mind-numbingly amazing it was to be inside of you. Continous waves of bliss vibrate through him as heavy grunts make their way out of his parted lips, quickly the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the area earning a deep blush on your cheeks when you heard the sound. The 2 men stood there, rifles in hand with massive erections and thoughts that were less than pure, to them it felt so embarrassing yet so ... arousing to just hear the sounds you're making. He continues for a little while, your cries of ecstasy echoing through the sanctuary as the night went on, it wasn't too long before your cries became screams. "Oh! Yes! Negan ...! Haah ... Negan ...! I-I'm close!" You cried out breathlessly, clutching the railing as hard as you can, you can feel your stomach coil and sink into your ribs, your body awaiting your orgasm. Grunting deeply, his hand smacks firmly against your ass, leaving a slightly red mark against your skin earning a gasp from your lips before yanks you by your hair, bringing your head further towards his mouth. "Mmh, baby ... cum for me, cum all over my cock ... don't forget to scream who you belong to, darlin' ..." Negan growls in your ear, his words are dripping and soaked in wanton possessiveness that nearly drives you mad. Your mind is screaming and soon you'll be screaming along with it. Negan grunts deeply, his cock throbbing erratically inside of you as he can feel himself tipping and teetering on the edge, biting his bottom lip hard, he slams his hips into you as hard as he can feel himself finally reach his peak. A hoarse and strained cry of Negan's name leaves your lips as you can only describe it as lightning striking you, leaving your body trembling and petrified with ecstasy that vibrates throughout your being.

His semen coats your insides, leaving you full to the brim with his heated cum before you let out a deep breath, you already know that you'll be all that the saviors will talk about. You know that you'll have to try not to die out of embarrassment or perhaps blame it all on Negan and his perverted mind but honestly, you know that they'll forget about it in a week or so. Licking your lips, you feel Negan slip out of you and you can hear the sound of his belt jingling and you begin to pull up your soaked panties, you fix your dress before letting another deep breath leave your lips. "Mmh, come on darlin' ... let's get you cleaned up and I'll get you straight to bed, got a long day tomorrow. But this has to be one of my favorite nights with you, perhaps the most memorable ..." Negan says, rubbing his chin as he wraps his arm around your waist as you both make your way back to his bedroom. "Of course this will be the most memorable to you ... but seriously, I kinda enjoyed it. Ya know, the ... open aspect and the not giving a fuck feeling that I felt as time went on." You say, grinning at him before resting your head on his shoulder, honestly, a bath and bed sounded so fucking amazing after the day that you had. "Glad I could make you happy today, darlin' ..." Negan says, kissing your forehead as he opened his bedroom door, he sits you down on his bed before he goes to the bathroom, he turns on the warm water and pours a glass of wine beside the bathtub. But by the time he came back you were knocked out, curled up with soft breaths leaving your lips. Smiling softly to himself, he gets you out of your dress and puts you in one of his old tee shirts, and lets you rest in his bed before he leaves you to go attend a bath waiting for him. "Man, this one is different ..." Negan thinks to himself before sleeping right beside you or getting as much sleep as he possibly can get.

#negan smut #negan x y/n #the walking dead negan #the walking dead #twd smut #negan x reader #negan x female reader #twd imagine #twd smut imagine #twd negan x reader

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theotherackerman · 3 years

Text

My Mind Turns Your Life Into Folklore

NOTES:

Flashback: Mikasa, age 21 Current time: Wednesday January 20th

chapter twenty-three: the story of us

One year ago, Mikasa did not handle her upcoming father’s birthday very well.

She had gotten drunk.

More drunk than she had ever been.

The room was spinning, couldn’t feel anything sort of drunk.

If it worked for Eren, it could work for her.

She didn’t want to feel.

She didn’t want to think.

Every change of the minute brought her father’s birthday closer.

She had tried to call Eren but Ymir had snatched her phone away.

So Mikasa didn’t call Eren.

Instead, she wandered off into the backyard where Levi found her.

She sat down in the snow, not really feeling the cold.

“I know. You’re hurting. You have been, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re having issues because you’re not allowing the pain you feel to be felt. You’ve been through a lot, Mikasa. Give yourself a break,” Levi said as he offered his hand out to Mikasa.

After a moment, Mikasa took Levi’s hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

Ymir came out of the house moments later and helped lead Mikasa back into the house.

“She okay?” Ymir asked.

“No, but she will be,” Levi replied.

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

Eren woke up with his limbs tangled with Mikasa’s. He was unsure how he was going back to not sleeping with her every night. He loved waking up to her in the morning. She was sound asleep as he had woken up before his alarm had gone off. He watched her peacefully sleeping in his arms. He was still so in love with her.

His alarm went off. He swiped it away.

Mikasa mumbled something under his breath that he couldn’t make out before she was nuzzling into his chest, trying to go back to sleep.

“I’m going to shower,” he told her as he began to move.

There was some sort of noise of protest as she held onto him.

“Unless you want to join me,” he whispered into her ear.

She gave him a gentle shove.

“That’s what I thought,” he laughed as he stood up.

It was a strange little morning routine that they had already fallen into. He took his pills and then made his way towards the bathroom.

Eren noticed after he had returned to the bedroom after his shower that something was off about Mikasa. He remembered the whole reason he was here was because of her dad’s birthday looming ever so close.

She was always off on that day.

On her mom’s birthday, it was even worse.

No matter how happy of a day they all tried to make it, Mikasa still had the same feelings.

Eren didn’t blame her, couldn’t blame her. He knew how his mom’s death had affected him. He knew her birthday was also looming closer every day. With the towel still wrapped around his waist, he sat down on her bed.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked as he reached out and touched her face.

Mikasa nodded.

“You’re still a shitty liar,” he told her.

“I know,” she muttered as she looked down.

His thumb caressed her cheek. “We’ll make it through today and tomorrow...then we’ll go from there. One day at time, right?”

Mikasa nodded again, still not looking up at him.

Eren leaned in and briefly pressed his lips to hers. A gesture that he was still there, he still loved her, and that he wanted her.

If Eren was being completely honest, he had never wanted anyone else and he wouldn’t ever want anyone else. He had resigned himself to a life free of any romance after he had left her.

She kissed him back right before he pulled away.

He had left her.

She had gone through this without him last year.

And he had known it would be bad.

It was bad every year.

What kind of fucked up person would do that?

Eren wasn’t fully aware of the fact that he had grabbed Mikasa and pulled her into a hug until she was squeezing him back.

So he just held her.

After a moment, Mikasa finally spoke.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Always here for you,” he muttered as he rested his head on top of hers.

“Did you use my shampoo?” she asked.

“Yeah…..”

“You smell good though. It’s fine. Your hair is so much longer now.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, I like it. Is this scar new?” she asked as she traced a mark on his chest.

Eren nodded.

“Car accident?” she asked.

“Probably. There’s a small one on my neck too,” he said before he took her hand, he used her hand to trace the small scar on his neck. “That was from glass. I was unconscious when they took it out.”

“Luck you. I got to feel your dad pull the glass out of my face,” she muttered as she traced the scar on his neck.

“I’m sure he was at least trying to be gentle. The doctors were pretty mad at me for drinking and driving.”

“Good,” Mikasa said before she pulled out of his embrace.

“Hey! Well, you’re right. I kind of deserved it back then.”

“I’m going to go take a shower,” she said as she stood up.

“I mean you could have joined me…”

Mikasa tackled him, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed. He tried to wrestle out of her grip but even with him working out, she was still stronger. He also became very aware of the fact that he was still just wearing a towel. Mikasa quickly pinned both of Eren’s hands above his head.

Eren’s eyes met hers again.

“I’m going to take a page out of Niccolo’s book and say this is pretty much the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he told her.

“Thought you were stronger now,” she replied simply. No blush flooded her cheeks like Eren had hoped for.

“I just let you win.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes as she released his wrists.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

Eren’s only answer was to grab her and flip them so he was hovering over her. He could feel his towel slipping but it did stay in place. He knew another move like that and it would fall.

Mikasa biting her lip and refusing to look him in his eyes did not escape his notice. He stood up as he held onto his towel. He secured it as Mikasa got off of her bed.

“Told you I’ve gotten stronger,” he teased her.

“Yeah, yeah. So you’ve said. I’m going to go shower by myself.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it.”

Mikasa didn’t even bother to respond to him.

Eren waited until he heard Mikasa’s footsteps disappear before he sighed.

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

Jean had no idea what to expect from Pieck. The woman was a constant surprise when it came to what she did.

So when she had shown up with takeout and wine, he had been surprised.

“Figured Connie would probably still be here so I decided to keep it PG tonight,” Pieck said as came into the apartment. “And I brought a bottle of whiskey for him.”

“Did I hear whiskey?” Connie asked as he came out of his room.

“You did. New brand. Thought the bottle was cool,” Pieck shrugged.

“Pieck, this is why you’re the coolest girl he’s ever brought home,” Connie said as he took the bottle from her.

“Does he bring many girls home?” Pieck smirked.

“Yes,” Jean said.

“No,” Connie replied at the same time.

Jean glared at Connie which just caused Pieck to laugh.

“He always seemed to get shot down at galas. So I think I’m going to believe Connie,” Pieck smirked.

“See? Coolest girl. Alright, I’m going to get hammered and then write this essay,” Connie said before moving the bottle in a small toast before going back to his room.

“Let me guess, you thought it would be something much more sexy that I was going to bring you for stress relief,” Pieck said before she sat the bag of food down on the table.

“Very domestic of you,” Jean smirked as he sat down at the tiny kitchen table.

“Shut up, don’t get used to it. I had a good shoot today so here I am. Plus this place has the best tacos around and it happens to be two blocks away from here.”

“Best tacos, huh? Just look like normal tacos to me."

Pieck rolled her eyes before she sat across from him. "You're the man who thought a twenty dollar wine was expensive. So maybe I don't trust your judgement when it comes to food."

"Well excuse me. I didn't have my mom take me to a winery."

"Maybe she should have."

Jean rolled his eyes before taking a bite of his taco. His eyes lit up.

"Told you. World's best tacos."

"Alright, fine. You win this one."

"I told you."

"...you got any more tacos?" Connie's voice called from down the hall.

"Yes, come get some," Pieck replied.

Their conversation slowed as they continued their meal. Pieck found herself liking being here in Jean and Connie's company. Besides the talk of exams and essays, Pieck would sometimes forget they weren't in the same age group as her.

And despite how much she tried to avoid it, Pieck really did like Jean. Once she got through that cocky, asshole persona he used, she found herself really enjoying her company.

But she wouldn't tell him or anybody else for that matter that.

They would all tease her about it.

This all should have been a red flag for her.

Evidence that she was getting in far too deep with Jean. Here she was bringing him food and alcohol because he had had an exam.

After dinner, Pieck found herself sitting on the couch with Jean watching some cheesy sci-fi movie he had found.

"Saturday there's this frat party Marco and I are going to. I'm not staying long," he said casually.

"Okay?" She asked as she raised an eyebrow.

Why would she care?

"So uh..if you wanted to like…"

"Spit out, Jean."

"I mean this is kind of becoming a routine thing and if you know you were expecting for us to…"

She reached up and grabbed his face. "You're cute when you're embarrassed," she teased him before she let go. "Go get drunk. Party. Whatever. I'm keeping my weekly date with Porco and Marcel anyway. But if it isn't past your bedtime, maybe I'll swing by."

"I won't be asleep," Jean said as he leaned back against the couch.

"Hmmm...will Connie be here?"

"Shouldn't be. He's got a thing with Ruth. He spent an hour on the phone with Sasha trying to pick out the perfect gift."

"What for?"

"I don't know. He likes to spoil his girlfriend and get them gifts for no reason. He's always been like that."

"Huh."

The talk of a relationship was making Pieck uncomfortable. Did Jean want that from her? She couldn't give that to him. It just wasn't something she was capable of. Maybe she should break this whole thing off.

"He's right though," Jean said after a moment.

"About what?" She was clearly confused.

"You are the coolest girl I've brought home."

Pieck held back a laugh, "I've never been cool in my life."

"But you are. I mean you have a studio, you're a working artist. You can play multiple instruments. There's no way you're not cool."

"I'm also unbelievably boring."

"I doubt that."

"I am. I go home, I have a glass of wine, I watch TV, and I go to bed."

"Better than what I do. Just study all the time."

"Oh please. Aren't you going to save the world or something?"

"Just because I'm a political science major doesn't mean I'm going to save the world."

"Hmmm...somehow I doubt that. You seem like the type."

"What type?"

"The type to do something stupid. I should go. It's getting late," she said as she stood up.

"Or you could always stay," Jean muttered.

She stopped and looked back at him. "Why do you want me to stay? You feeling alright?"

"Just a stressful day. That's all," he shrugged.

"Okay, well, I've got a shoot in the morning."

"Right. Yeah, I'll see you later."

Pieck nodded and left, closing the door behind her.

Jean groaned once she was gone.

"Dude, you're so screwed," Connie said from the other room.

"Tell me something I don't know," Jean muttered as he sat down on the couch.

"So Sasha and Niccolo aren't talking."

"Why's that?"

"Guess he flipped because we're still friends and exes. It's not like I didn't grow up next door to her."

"Weird. So is he out of the group?"

"Not yet. Ymir is waiting for the word to take him out though."

"I'll help her hide the body."

"Are you going to talk to Pieck about everything?"

"You know she's the first girl since Mikasa that I actually like to be around? I mean the other girls I've been with have been good for a fling but Pieck is…"

"Someone you want to wife up?"

"Yes! I mean no. I don't know. She's just different."

"Then you should tell her. I'm pretty sure she feels the same."

"I hope so."

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

Her friends were very good at getting Mikasa to not think about the fact that her dad’s birthday was the next day.

At least until it was time to sleep.

She tossed and turned. Eren held onto her, never complaining.

Eren pulled her close to him. She turned over so she was facing him.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, wrapping his other arm around her.

She didn’t feel okay. She felt like she was breaking all over again.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Eren said.

The door opened, Annie stepped in first. She was wrapped in her comforter.

“Scoot over,” the blonde said. Eren pulled himself and Mikasa over to the other side of the bed. Annie plopped down on the open space just as Armin was coming in with his own blanket. He climbed into the bed and sat down next to Eren.

“Armin?” Mikasa questioned. “When did you get here?”

“About twenty minutes ago. My classes are canceled tomorrow,” he explained.

“So we’re having a sleepover in your room tonight because fuck being alone. None of that shit here,” Ymir added as she came into the room with her own blanket. She turned Mikasa’s tv on with the remote. “No one kick me,” she warned as she lay horizontally across the end foot of the bed.

Historia came into the room next, dragging a blanket with her.

“Annie, let me use you as a pillow,” Historia remarked as she climbed into bed. She rested her head on Annie’s shoulder.

“Ymir, can I use you as a pillow?” Sasha asked as she climbed over Ymir so she was the opposite way with her feet towards Mikasa’s pillows.

“I don’t care. Just don’t poke me with your boney elbow,” Ymir said.

“Anyone squished?” Eren asked after a moment.

“I’m good. Toss me a pillow,” Ymir said as she held her hand out.

Eren reached back and grabbed a pillow. He tossed it to her and Ymir caught it.

“You know it’s a good thing you have a giant bed,” Ymir laughed as she put her head down on the pillow.

“Probably a good thing we don’t have more friends too,” Annie added as she rested her head on top of Mikasa’s.

Mikasa twisted so she could see the tv.

“Alright, so we will find the worst thing possible on tv,” Ymir informed them before turning up the volume.

“Give me that or we’re going to end up watching Hallmark movies forever!” Historia proclaimed.

“They’re horrible!”

“That’s the point but they are a form of torture I will not endure. Sasha, snatch the remote away.”

“Uh, no. Ymir is my pillow.”

Mikasa laughed a bit as her friends argued.

This was an improvement from last year.

#mmtylif #my writing

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pricetagofficial · 4 years

Text

The Archer -Part Twenty-Three

Warnings: Language, Angst, Violence, Blood, Torture, Electrocution

Part Twenty-Four

Word Count: 2.5K

Tag List: @idkmanicantenglish @kishony-the-geek @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @starxfires

A/N: AGAIN THIS IS REALLY DARK PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRESSION

As Rory sat in the chair, she could feel how weak she was getting. It had been weeks and she was still playing Joker's prisoner, every day he would come in a try to piss her off to the point where she would kill him but every day it didn't work. Since she worked out the fact that it was Slade who put him up to this, she knew what he wanted. Slade wanted her to kill again, and spiral further before he finally killed her himself.

When it didn't work, the Joker took to his favorite part; torturing her. Of course, the wound on her side was still injured and he used it to his advantage. The Joker figured out pretty early on just how high her pain tolerance was, and what would make her scream but not what made her angry.

Her body was sore, and her throat was dry. Of course, no one was courteous enough to let her take a shower, or even wash her hair so it was matted and went everywhere. Her suit was dirty and covered in blood, grime, sweat, and dirt. Her bow and quiver were missing along with her utility belt, Rory had a feeling they tossed them somewhere in a dumpster.

Every day she reminded herself of what was important, it was easy to lose yourself in this situation and Rory refused to let that happen. No matter what the Joker did to her, she refused to kill even if it meant he killed her instead. At this point, she partially hoped that he was getting tired of her and would just put an end to all this but then she would think of Tim. Rory didn't want to put that kind of pain on him, nor did she want Oliver, Dinah, and Roy to hurt like that either.

She worried about Tim more than anything, what was he doing and how was he handling it? She wasn't there to make sure he took care of himself, and she was sure one of the others would make sure he at least ate something. Her thoughts wandered to the others, especially Barbara and Jason.

They were hurt by the Joker, Barbara was paralyzed and Jason was literally murdered by him. She really hoped that they didn't see the footage the Joker sent to Batman and that Tim wasn't seeing it either.

Right on schedule, the Joker walked in with four of his goons at his side. He held something in his hand, but Rory couldn't see what it was from her spot and the dim lighting. "Hello, birdy! How'd ya sleep?" he laughed, swinging the item in his hand.

Rory's eyes followed him, as he walked to the camera and turned it on. She saw the light go green and she knew it was recording. "I slept great, metal chairs are ever so comfortable. We should switch places so you could see."

The Joker laughed, "Wow, you really don't give up, do you? Why, do you want to beat me around some?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, I see you brought more friends. Are you scared that I'll find a way to kick your ass with a metal chair too?" she asked, blowing her hair out of her face. She noticed that they were holding several buckets of what seemed to be just plain water.

"Ever so feisty! Go on boys, drench her!" he said, and beckoned them forward. Each one held a large bucket of water, what the hell was he planning on doing to her with it. Rory watched as the first one dumped the bucket on her and she gasped, it was ice cold and she shuddered in the chair.

"Oh great, I was just thinking about how I needed a shower. I was worried that I was the only one who noticed the sm-" she didn't get to finish before another bucket was dumped on her, Rory inhaling some and began coughing. Her hair fell in her face and she could barely see anything.

"Save the other two for later." The Joker called. Rory tried to blow her hair back but it still stuck to most of her face. She noticed that he was closer than before, and what it was that he was holding.

It was an old-looking crowbar, and he was waving it around with a large grin on his face. Rory knew what he was doing, and it wasn't going to end well.

"I want you to meet a friend of mine, I named it Robin. You know, after the brat I blew up? Apparently he didn't stay dead, and you got to meet him. Tell me, does he still remember me?"

Rory clenched her fist, he was changing tactics. The Joker had figured out that he couldn't break Rory by just hurting her, he had to hurt others to make her snap. "Yeah, I know him. You must be a real shitty clown if you couldn't kill a fifteen-year-old."

"I remember it well." he grinned and swung the crowbar, stopping it right before it hit her chest. "He was tied up much like you are, but without the chair. I remember the sound of each crack as I hit him with this same crowbar."

Rory's eyes didn't leave him. The Joker swung it again, tapping her on the stomach. "Crack."

He tapped her on the shoulder. "Crack."

He tapped her on the back. "Crack."

He tapped her on the back of the head. "Crack."

Rory closed her eyes, trying to keep the image of a young Jason out of her head. She didn't want to think of someone she cares about in that much pain, it hurt her to think of it. The anger was bubbling up inside her, Rory tried to keep it at bay but with every 'crack', it would rise higher and she was close to snapping.

She but her lip so hard to keep herself from yelling in anger, her lip was starting to bleed. Her heart was beating so hard, it made her ears pound and her breathing ragged. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to take the crowbar to him but she didn't.

The Joker could see that he was getting to her. "What? Too much?" he grinned.

Rory looked at him and gave him a glare. "Go to hell."

At her words, he began laughing. "You have more self-control than I gave you credit for, I can tell you want to do something to me. Come on, say it."

Rory stayed silent, she refused to say what she was thinking and give him what he wanted to hear. That he was starting to break her down, by threatening her family. "I said, go to hell."

This time, he didn't laugh. "You know, you should really do what you're told." The Joker backed up and Rory saw him grab something off a table that was attached to a cable. Following it, she saw that it let right to the puddle of water surrounding her, and right, where it touched the cord, was cut slightly.

Looking back at him she laughed. "You're going to electrocute me? That's the best you can do?"

Rory was good at masking the emotions in her voice, but it was her eyes that gave away what she really felt and she was terrified. She was covered and surrounded by water and was sat in a metal chair. Rory was a perfect conductor for electricity.

She watched as he pressed the button, Rory letting out a scream of pain. This was by far the worst pain she had felt, electrical shock coursed through her body making her twitch and scream wishing it would stop.

As soon as it came, it was gone. Rory dropped her head, panting softly as tears fell from her eyes. The water on her face covered it up some, but anyone could see that they were tears if they were close enough. Before she could even catch her breath, the pain was back and she started screaming again.

The Joker held the button for longer this time, letting it go a few seconds after the last time with a huge grin on his face. "Why don't you just kill me already," she muttered, her hair covering her face.

The Joker walked over and lifted her head up, Rory too tired to fight back. "Because that would be too easy." he then swung the crowbar and hit her fully in the stomach, making Rory gasp in pain making it impossible to breathe.

He hit her several times, satisfied as he heard her bones crack under the metal. After a moment he stopped, and Rory was minutes from falling unconscious. Walking back to the camera he turned it off and took the tape out. "Wonderful show darling, now be good and I might have a surprise for you tomorrow," he called.

Rory looked up slowly and watched as he headed towards the door. "I heard from a friend that you are close to a certain bat brat, maybe I should pay him a visit for you and bring some flowers as a gift." he grinned.

Her face drained from color. He was talking about Tim, Slade had told the Joker about her relationship with Red Robin and he was going to use it against her. "I swear if you hurt so much of a hair on his head-"

"You'll what, kill me?" he grinned. "That's what I'm hoping for." and he walked out, leaving Rory there alone with her thoughts.

*****

When Tim woke hours later, his head was throbbing. He sat up and rubbed his forehead trying to ease the pain, he was so exhausted that Jason was able to drug him and make him sleep. Deep down he knew that he did it for good reasons, but he had lost hours of his time that he could have spent looking for Rory.

He stretched with a yawn and looked at the clock, it was almost midnight and that meant that the others would be leaving for patrol soon. Getting up, Tim quickly noticed that he was in Jason's room. He must have put him there once he saw the condition Tim's room was it.

Rubbing his eyes, he left the room and shut the door behind him. Tim walked down to the kitchen and grabbed himself a cup of coffee and some cookies. There seemed to be a constant supply of cookies, Alfred was a stress baker. With Rory missing, Alfred was worried and spent his time making cookies. Tim could tell that Alfred was baking to try and calm his mind while trying to cheer everyone else up, and he loved him for it.

With his cup and cookies in hand, Tim walked down to the Batcave once again. "Jason, you ever sedate me again and I will find your copy of Shakespeare's works and drop it in a blender." When he got down to the cave, he saw that everyone was there talking.

Jason looked up from the gun he was cleaning and grinned. "Hello, sleep well babybird?" he grinned.

Tim frowned and threw a cookie at his head, drinking more coffee. "I mean it, you sedate me and I will blend your books."

"You touch my books and I will give your computer a bath." Jason threatened, cocking his gun in a threatening manner.

"Boys seriously?" Barbara asked, looking over at them from the computer. "Tim, don't touch his books. Jason, next time maybe just punch him unconscious. He would stay asleep longer."

Tim looked at her in shock, "Wow, that's cold Babs."

"You're the idiot refusing to sleep, next time I'll knock you out." she grinned, "But I am glad that you look better, you have some color to your cheeks and don't look like you belong in The Walking Dead."

"If anyone belongs there, it's Jay," Tim argued, Jason just simply rolling his eyes.

"That's so original Timbo, it's like I haven't heard every zombie joke in the book," he muttered and looked over at Bruce who just entered the cave.

"Tonight, we're going to do another sweep of the city. Tim, I need you to come so we can cover it in less time. Can I trust you to keep it together?" he asked, looking at the boy who was cradling a cup of coffee.

"You can count on me Bruce," he said, finishing his coffee. "I feel better and a little nicer, so I think I'll be okay."

Bruce gave him a nod. "I want you all to stick in pairs still, we don't know what's going on but I don't want someone else getting taken." Everyone gave him a nod.

"We leave in twenty, get your gear and anything else you need." and he walked away.

Bruce was going alone, so Damian paired with Dick and Tim paired with Steph, leaving Jason and Cass together. They were all about to get on their bikes to leave when they got a message with another video.

All the chatter stopped and they looked at each other, another video meant that she was alive right?

Barbara hesitated, but she hit play. Watching the video, Tim stayed behind her his eyes not leaving Rory. They all could see how weak she was, her hair was a mess and she looked tired, Tim was worried. He watched as they dumped two large buckets of water on her before the Joker came into focus with something in his hand.

Listening to him recount what had happened in the past, only pissed Jason off more. He could see Rory struggle to keep herself quiet, it hurt her to hear what had happened in gruesome detail but it hurt Jason more to watch her.

When he electrocuted her, he saw Tim blink away tears as he watched. Seeing this happen hurt Tim more than anything and that didn't sit right with Jason. No one hurt his family and got away with it.

"Why don't you just kill me already," she muttered, her hair covering her face.

The Joker walked over and lifted her head up, Rory too tired to fight back. "Because that would be too easy." he then swung the crowbar and hit her fully in the stomach.

The cup Jason was gripping, cracked and shattered in his hand as he watched the Joker beat Rory with the same crowbar he beat him with. Jason had sworn to himself that he wouldn't let anyone else fall to this fate, and yet here he was watching it.

When he stopped, they watched as he laughed while Rory trying to catch her breath and the screen cutting off after that. At the end of the video, they could see that Rory was beaten down physically and mentally. Her comments had stopped and she looked defeated.

With silence washing over them all, they knew what had to be done. Rory wasn't going to last much longer, they needed to find her and fast no matter what it took.

#Tim Drake #Timothy Drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake x reader #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin fanfiction #DC comics

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andaleduardo · 5 years

Text

How to Break Your Heart and Make Sure It Stays Broken

Read the 1st chapter on ao3

Summary: In which 15-year-old Richie confesses his feelings for Eddie on New Year’s Eve and they don’t talk about it for the next 4 years.

31st December 2010, Friday

“Would you put that thing down for one second?”

Richie looks up from the phone screen to his mother’s eyes. “Mom, this is the future. Do you want me to put the future down?”

“I want you to get off that sofa and help us serve the champagne.”

“Don’t make us regret giving you the future, Richie.” His father added as he entered the living room with a bottle of champagne on one hand and one of sparkling apple juice in the other.

“Fine.” He pockets the phone as he gets up to clean up the dinner plates. “But I gotta text the losers at midnight, we have a group chat on Facebook now-”

“Yes, son, we know. That’s all you’ve been talking about lately.” Wentworth interrupts while fumbling with the cork on the sparkling juice bottle.

“One day I’ll figure out why adults hate technology!” Richie shouts as he enters the kitchen. He places the plates on the sink and grabs three champagne glasses from the special collection his mom owns before going back to the living room. These things look like they’ll break if you so much as breathe in their direction.

“We don’t hate technology.” Maggie complains as she tries to rub away a stain in the tablecloth. “You kids just love it too much.”

That makes Richie laugh. “You don’t even let dad teach you how to use his comput-

The juice bottle’s cork comes off with a loud POP! that startles Richie and sends one of the glasses tumbling down onto the carpeted floor. It shatters into a million pieces despite the soft surface.

“Richie!” His mom cries out loud.

“I’m sorry!” Quickly, he places down the two survivor glasses. He can hear his dad trying not to laugh.

“Your grandma gifted these to us after we got married…” She laments as she looks at the sparkling shards at their feet.

“I’ll clean this up, you two be careful not to step on it.” Went adds before going to get the vacuum cleaner from the bottom of the pantry.

“I am sorry.”

With a sigh, Maggie hugs him sideways. “It’s okay, I guess we’ll never have 10 people over at the same time.”

“Yeah, we probably won’t.”

Once the carpet is clean, the champagne and false champagne are served and there’s only 5 minutes left till midnight, Richie takes his phone out and opens Eddie’s contact. He stares at the text he wrote probably 4 hours ago and reads it over and over again just to really make sure there’s no mistakes.

The thing is, tonight, Richie is going to fuck up his entire life. Or, at least that’s what it feels like.

You see, Eddie was the last of the group to get a phone. He got it on Christmas as a gift from his uncle, and needless to say Sonia didn’t like the idea. She only gave it to him one or two days ago after she figured out how to make it as “safe” as possible for his son. That means Eddie has exactly 3 numbers on his contact list. The number to his house, the number to Bill’s house, and Bill’s number. Because, apparently, that’s the only friend of Eddie’s Sonia trusts.

Stan’s Jewish, Mike is home-schooled (and black, although Sonia never admits that’s the real reason she doesn’t like the boy), Ben moved into town not so long ago, Bev is a girl, and Richie is Richie.

Bill’s family goes to church every Sunday and they’ve known each other ever since both boys were little. Hence why Eddie’s contact list is sadder than the life of their math teacher.

But Richie is weirdly thankful for this because that means Eddie doesn’t have his number. However, Bill texted them Eddie’s contact yesterday, saying they probably shouldn’t send him anything before school starts because Sonia will most likely check his phone.

Well, Sonia can go to hell because Richie is about to do something very stupid.

He’s a true romantic at heart, alright? Plus, he’s been in love with Eddie since he was twelve (or at least he realized it when he was twelve) and this secret is starting to claw up at his insides as if he had swallowed a dysfunctional cat.

In other words, it’s driving him crazy and he has to do something about it.

Now, he’s not mental. He’s not going to confess his feelings or anything. Right, as if. He’s simply going to become a secret admirer or something cheesy like that.

Yesterday, he sneaked into his dad’s computer while both his parents were taking an afternoon nap and searched for “romantic quotes” on Google. He typed down the one he liked the most, deleted the history, and then tried to convince himself this wasn’t the worst plan of his entire life.

It seemed like a very clever plan the closer to midnight it got.

“Alright, my loves.” Maggie gives everyone their respective glass. The non-alcoholic, sad-looking one for Richie, and the fun-looking ones for the adults. Bullshit, if you ask him.

“How come I never get to drink the real thing?”

“Well, you hate it.” Maggie shrugs. “You’ve said so the past two years that we’ve let you had one sip for the toast.”

“But I’m older now, I can handle it.”

“You can try it again after you finish that.” Went tips his cup in the direction of Richie’s. Naturally, Richie throws his head back and drinks the apple juice in one gulp, almost cutting his lip in the process. Seriously, these things are that thin.

“Done.” He announces as he fills the cup with champagne. “Now we can have a real toast.”

Both adults laugh and soon the countdown begins. Richie screams the numbers along with his parents, keeping his thumb over the ‘send’ button at the same time.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

He presses down, the text is sent, and he pockets his phone once again to click his fragile cup against his parents’. As expected, it tastes just as awful as he remembers. He spits it out much like last year, and they all go outside to see the fireworks.

00:00 To: Spaghetti <3

And I just wanted to say that your smile reminds me that not all art is created with a pencil and a paintbrush.

His phone vibrates at exactly 00:49, which means Richie is already in his bedroom because that’s how New Year works in his family. They stay home, celebrate till the fireworks die down, and then part ways at the end of the hallway.

He interrupts Charlie the goldfish’s dinner and checks his phone only to let the little container of fish’s food fall off his hand. Thankfully, it was closed.

00:49 From: Spaghetti <3

Richie?

Did you steal that from your mom’s poetry collection, asshole? :P

Charlie the goldfish fades out from his peripheral vision. Richie sits down before he collapses and bursts through the floor right onto their cold, lifeless basement.

What the fuck?

Seriously.

What the actual fuck?

With shaky hands, he types out a reply.

Richie: what makes you think it’s richie?

Spaghetti <3: Bill gave me everyone’s numbers

Spaghetti <3: I don’t have them saved yet because of my mom, though

Spaghetti <3: Why? Is this not Richie? Did Bill give me the wrong number?

Fucking Bill. Now, Richie’s pacing the entire floor of his bedroom, knowing he’d walk right up to the celling if he could. He keeps staring at the small screen, wondering if he could save his ass by turning this shitty device off. His mom is right, technology sucks.

Spaghetti <3: Hello??

Shit.

Richie: hahaha you got me Eds

Richie: c’est moi

Then he hesitates for a second.

Richie: sooo, are we good?

Spaghetti <3: Yeah, of course

Spaghetti <3: Why shouldn’t we be?

Oh. Oh. So, Eddie didn’t take him seriously. He took it as one of his weird jokes.

Here’s a getaway, Richie. You can play it off as prank, Richie. You can still walk away from this without completely ruining a friendship, Richie. Please take the opportunity, Richie.

Richie: you don’t get it

Shut the fuck up, Richie.

Spaghetti <3: What?

Richie: well

Richie: actually

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: Richie, spit it out you’re stressing me

Richie: right

Richie: you see

Spaghetti <3: You’ve said that before

Richie: correct I see your point Eds

Spaghetti <3: Not my name

Richie: the thing is

Richie: jesus I hope you forgive me

Richie: okay so

Richie: i don’t have a crush on you

Richie: i’m pretty sure that I love you

There’s about a million smooth ways to say that you love someone. But Richie doesn’t choose one of those. Fitting.

It takes a few minutes before Eddie says something back. In those minutes, Richie starts crying.

Spaghetti <3: Oh

It’s as vague as it can get, but one can take the hint.

Richie: i’m sorry

Spaghetti <3: You don’t have to apologize

Spaghetti <3: How long..?

Richie: uh, since March?

Which is a lie.

Spaghetti <3: That’s a long time…

Richie wants to laugh, then scream, then he wants to be able to stop crying.

Spaghetti <3: Can we still be friends?

On second thought, he doesn’t want to laugh.

Richie: only if you still want to Spaghetti <3: Of course I want to Rich

Spaghetti <3: Don’t even say that

Well, that’s good.

Richie: well that’s good

Richie: i’m sorry Eddie

Spaghetti <3: Don’t apologize asshole

Spaghetti <3: It’s fine I swear

And then a few more minutes.

Spaghetti <3: Happy new year

The phone gets thrown, landing somewhere along the end of the bed. The blurry digital clock on his bedside table says it’s already 1:13 a.m. and by its side lays Charlie the goldfish’s tank.

It’s small, but it’s not a fishbowl. Richie learnt that lesson with his first goldfish, Oli. Poor her.

He follows Charlie’s swimming around a rock. A fish’s life seems peaceful and blissful and delightful and wonderful and many other adjectives ending in ‘ful’. Except for Oli’s life, of course. At this moment Richie’s life feels pretty much like Oli’s.

He sighs through another wet sob.

“Happy fucking new year, Charlie.”

perma taglist: @constantreaderfool @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie @reddieforlove @madi-personal @cheekaspbrak

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this!

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #how to break your heart and make sure it stays broken #me

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thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Text

The Gift that Keeps on Giving (Sternclay)

The second winter prompt fill for @ghostabek! It is NSFW, which should not surprise you given the prompt. I decided to make both Stern and Barclay trans for this one.

17: I get your name during secret santa at work and use the same wrapping paper for my gift to my friend so...sorry about all the sex toys.

Joseph Stern has many regrets.

He regrets getting frosted tips in high school

He regrets not switching from his chemistry major sooner.

He regrets the actions that lead to that one meme. He will not name the meme. He is trying so hard to leave that legacy behind.

But in this moment, he regrets not buying more wrapping paper.

Three weeks ago, his workplace set up its secret santa exchange. He, to his delight, pulled the name of his workplace crush: Barclay Cobb.

Two days later, Barclay announced he was taking a sabbatical, for lack of a better word, to write a cookbook. Stern was excited for him; Barclay was an amazing cook, and had catalyzed the Youtube presence of the Foodie test kitchen (and he had the kind of body Stern wanted to lick whipped cream off of ). He deserved good things, and Stern just knows the book will be a hit.

And so Stern had said goodbye and good luck to him a week ago, with the rest of the test kitchen team, with a promise to bring his secret santa gift by his house when it came in the mail. He put it in a nice, rectangular box, and wrapped it in his cryptid christmas paper.

It was only when Barclay opened the lid that he realized his horrible, horrible error.

“Uhhhh” Barclay lifts the burgundy leather collar, confusion plain on his handsome face.

“Ohmylord. Oh, I’m so sorry. That was for my...friend.”

“Friend?” Barclay raises a dark eyebrow.

“My ex.”

“Okay, that I believe.”

“I...this is so embarrassing. I got you a copy of that super-rare vegan soul food cookbook you’d been wanting, I was so pleased with it and I must have mixed up the packages, they’re the same size and I like that paper so it’s all I have-”

“It is very you.” Barclay smiles, nodding his head at the torn paper covered in a pine tree motif with Bigfoot (wearing a santa hat) and mothman peeking out.

“I’m sorry, it must still be at my house. I was looking forward to impressing you with my gift giving skills.”

“Dunno” Barclay sorts through the box, “if this is any indication, I think I can tell how much thought you put into it.”

There is not a word, in English or any other language, to describe the mixture of mortification and desire he feels when Barclay takes the items out, eyeing them appraisingly.

“I mean this, this is like the extra-fancy wand, right?”

“Yes.” He manages.

“And the strap-on in here looks real high-quality. Pretty cool looking too. Not to mention the underwear, looks like the kind of thing you’d want to take off with your teeth.” When Barclay meets his eyes, a dark curiosity glitters in them. Then he must notice the stress radiating off Stern, because his demeanor drops back to his usual gentle friendliness.

“Hey, it’s no big deal okay? Remind me to tell you sometime about when I mixed up the present for my sister with the present for my boyfriend.” He looks down at the box again with a strange, secretive smile, “I know why you ended it with that guy. I still think he was serious dickhead if he was being that shitty to the kind of guy who’d give him this.”

Stern laughs, bitter, “You don’t know the half of it. Two of those items are for me, with the idea being I’d wear them for him as part of the gift. The underwear and the uh, the collar. I didn’t even want a collar, but he was so into the idea and I thought it might make him happy.”

Barclay makes a noise Sterns’ heard in the past, the one that indicates he’s disapproving of something but trying not to be harsh.

“I know, it was a flawed plan-”

“I’d say it was a generous thought directed at someone who didn’t deserve it.”

A smile creeps across Sterns face, and he glances at the fire to avoid saying something impulsive.

“Whelp” Barclay whacks his thighs and stands, “how about a drink? I’ve got some mulled cider I could heat up.”

“You don’t want me to go?”

“Course not, I want you to pass on all the hot office gossip I’m missing.”

“You mean like how Indrid managed to explode a container during the ginger beer episode of ‘Make it Ferment’?”

Barclay rumbles out a laugh as Stern follows him to the kitchen, “You’d think he’d have learned after what happened with the Kombucha. I think Duck’s camera still smells a little fermented after that blow-up. How’s ‘Make it Perfect’ going?”

“Good.” Stern opens a cabinet and grabs two mugs, “I’m planning out the one for cheese plates, since it can go out before new years.”

“Nice.”

They talk shop for awhile, moving back to the living room. When they both need refills, Stern hops up to get them. When he arrives back in the room, it’s only through professional training that he doesn’t drop both mugs to the floor.

Barclay is wearing the collar, examining his reflection in (mercifully curtain covered) window.

“Dunno, might hold onto this, think the color looks good on me. That alright with you?”

“Guh.” Stern responds.

“Seems a shame to let a good gift go to waste.” Barclay turns to look at him. He’s never seen that expression on Barclay’s face before, most likely because if Barclay made it on camera, the video would get taken down for containing obscene content.

“Ah, uh, you’re, you’re quite right.” Stern sets the mugs down on the coffee table, wipes his hands nervously on his jeans.

“You okay?” Barclay leans against the mantle and stays put, and Stern realizes why; he’s not going to push this. He’s letting Stern come to him only if he wants to.

“I, ah, yes. Totally fine.” He crosses the hardwood, joining Barclay by the fire, “I was simply taken aback with the revelation of why my ex was so eager to see me in that.”

“Oh?” Barclay pushes off the mantle, turning so the two of them are face to face. He keeps his hands to himself, but there’s micrometer of space between their bodies.

“I have no interest in wearing it, as I said. But seeing you in it…” a spark of confidence flickers up his arm and he reaches out to hook a finger into the small metal loop at the front of the collar. He pulls down just as Barclays hands fly to his shoulders, joining them in a kiss. Keeping one hand on the metal, he glides the other up to Barclays cheek, beard tickling his palm as the taller man deepens the kiss.

“Is this really okay?” Barclay whispers, kissing his neck.

“Yes, good lord yes.”

“Knew it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were checking my ass while I was shooting “Make it Gourmet.” Dani swore she noticed it when she was editing footage together.”

“Ohmygod.” Stern giggles, embarrassed, pressing his face into Barclays sweater.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure she cut all those out. Probably.”

“Noooo, I can’t handle being another meme, Barclay, it will break me.”

“Shhh” Barclay pets his back soothingly, broad chest now shaking with laughter, “you chose a career on the internet. This is your fate.”

“Is that a better or worse fate than people writing in and demanding a do a video about making gourmet NERDS?”

Barclay shudders, and Stern kisses his nose. When their eyes meet, Barclay grins.

“Y’know, the rest of that gift doesn’t have to go to waste either.” Barclay laughs again, “and judging by how excited you look, got a feeling you’ve already thought of some ways to use them on me.”

“And on me. Do you have a harness?”

“Yep, in the bedroom, if you wanna-”

“Ah, um, actually” he glances over to his right, then back at Barclay, unsure if he should say it.

But Barclay is too quick on the uptake

“The table, huh?” He loops his arms around Sterns shoulders.

“Please.” So much blood is heading south he’s amazed his other organs aren’t shutting down.

Barclay kisses him tenderly, “Get naked and wait for me.”

Stern does exactly that, being sure to fold his clothes and set them aside in a chair before heading to the table.

“Now there’s a sight.” Barclay steps in from the hallway, naked save for the harness. Pauses to kiss Stern eagerly before retrieving the strap-on from the box while Stern rests his elbows on the polished wood.

“It looks kinda monster-y. I like it.”

“It’s the uh, ah, ahem, ‘bigfoot’ model.” He mumbles.

Barclay laughs again, bending to kiss along Sterns shoulder blades as he teases at him with the toy, “Very on-brand, babe. Like a man who knows what he wants.”

“Even if what he want’s is strangeOH, fuck.” He spreads his legs wider as Barclay pushes in.

“Someone got a thing for size?” A kiss to the back of his neck.

“Yes,yesyes.” Stern presses back, demanding.

“Easy, tiger, don’t hurt yourself.”

“Barclay, I have been fantasizing about this for months, please, if you don’t start fucking me I’m going to make an utter embarrassment of myself.”

“Don’t have to beg, baby, I’ll take good care of you.” Strong hands grip either hipbone, and then his arms are struggling to keep him up as Barclay pounds into him.

“Shit, oh my lord that’s good.”

“Yeah?” Barclay growls, biting his ear, “gotta say, the way your ass moves when I fuck you is real fucking hot.”

“Nhmmmm.” Stern presses his forehead to the table. Barclays feet nudge his own aside, forcing his stance almost uncomfortably wide.

“I’d hold tight.”

“How, it’s a tablAHahhhnnn, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

“Not unless you come or collapse. Fuck, Joseph, you’re amazing, I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

“As, fuck, as often as you want.” Stern tries to move one of his hands down to stroke his dick, finds he can’t manage that and balancing at the same time. Barclay suddenly shoves him forward, pressing his pelvis against the table. Barclay hunches over him, continues fucking him as one hand snakes around to rub him off. The other rests a top Sterns own, Barclay holding his hand tightly as he whimpers from the new stimulation.

“That’s it, babe, that’s it. C’mon, I wanna make you come so bad, yeah, you like when I say that don’t you?”

Stern nods with a needy whine.

“Then lemme tell you, this is just the first course, handsome. Gonna find every way to make you come, gonna fuck you so much neither of us is gonna be able to stand for weeks.”

“Please, please, ohlordohfuck, yes, Barclay, yesAHhnnnn.” As soon as his orgasm hits, Barclay stops, pulling out carefully. He stays curled over Stern, stroking his hair and kissing up and down his back.

“That was, that was incredible.”

“Got that right, babe.” Barclay straightens, and Stern does the same, turning to kiss him hungrily.

“Take that off and get the magic wand.”

Barclay practically rips the harness away. Grabs the vibrator as Stern hops up to sit on the table.

Barclay hands him the toy, “how do you wanna do this?” His words die into a gasp when Stern grips his collar.

“I’d like to get you off with this” he turns on the wand, “would you like that too?”

“Yes.”

“Ask politely.” He tugs on the collar and Barclay moans.

“Please, babe, please, I want it so bad.”

“Mmmm, I can tell. You’re soaking.” Stern purrs, hovering the wand only an inch away from Barclays dick.

Barclay makes a panting, pleading whine, and that’s good enough for Stern.

“FUCKfuck, oh baby yeah, fuck yeah.”

“What do say?” He tugs again.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou-oh shit, just little more babe please I’m so fucking close.”

Stern presses harder, yanking Barclay the rest of the way down for a kiss. The taller man whimpers into his mouth as he comes, shaking even after Stern pulls the vibrator away.

Then he promptly falls to his knees, resting his head in Sterns lap.

“So, uh, that was, wow.”

“I’m taking that as a sign you liked it unless you tell me otherwise.”

“Liked is putting it mildly, babe.”

Stern pets his hair, sighing happily.

“Would you, uh, like to stay a bit longer?”

“Absolutely.”

“If you wanna put on your clothes, I was gonna make dinner. I mean, you don’t have to put them on.”

“Being naked is not in the least bit kitchen safe. And I should clean this part of your table before I join you.”

“True on both counts.” Barclay stands, offering Stern a hand he doesn’t need ut takes all the same to get off the table.

“You know,” he muses as he pulls his underwear back on, “we didn’t get a chance to use the underwear.”

“Don’t worry,” Barclay only half-dressed, wraps him in a hug from behind, “you can wear ‘em tomorrow when I take you out.”

Stern turns, kisses him, “That sounds perfect.”

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #winter aus

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migila · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas! Let’s celebrate with a fic!

Christmas of the Scouting Legion

“Keep walking guys, we still have a way to go!” Hanji told Levi and Eren as the two followed her through the snow in the mountains.

“Just where are we going to in the first place, commander?” Eren asked “It’s about time you tell us, right?”

“You two know what time of the year it is, right?” Hanji asked. Levi raised an eyebrow, but Eren got what she was saying and answered: “Christmas is in a few days.”

“Exactly!” Hanji agreed “And I found the most fabulous Christmas tree, so we’re taking it back to the HQ!”

Eren and Levi stopped in their tracks. Exchanging looks, they made the nonverbal decision to turn on their heels and go back.

“Wait wait wait, where are you guys going!? We have a Christmas tree to fetch!” Hanji protested at the retreating men’s backs.

“Get it yourself” was all Levi said “I don’t want to be a part of this.”

“Oh, c’mon you two!” Hanji protested, catching up with them “We all had so much fun last year, right?”

“…We did” Eren admitted “But surely you can handle one tree on your own, commander.”

“Not this one; it’s huge!” Hanji disagreed “So I need you to carry it back in your titan form!”

“…”

Without another word, both Levi and Eren picked up the pace.

“Guys guys, I’m serious!” Hanji said, jumping to Eren’s feet “C’mon Eren, please! Just this one time!”

“No” Levi told her, crossing his arms “He’s not your delivery boy.”

“You just go drink your tea” Hanji jabbed at him, turning all her attention to Eren and making her best puppy dog face “Please, Eren!”

“…”

The trip ended with a fifteen-meter titan carrying an almost equally tall tree on its back.

XXXXX

“Shitty Glasses, the tree is way too big” Levi pointed out with an irritated scowl “It won’t fit in the HQ.”

“…” Hanji realized that as well. She had thought it’d be fine, but it seemed the tree was a few meters too tall.

“It’d be a shame to shorten such a brilliant tree… well, time for plan B, then!” she thought “We’ll keep it outside.”

“Really?” Levi said “All this to have a damn tree outside?”

“Yes, all this to have a damn tree outside” Hanji confirmed gleefully “Time to look for a good place. Let’s go, Eren!”

The titan followed, but not before Levi caught him rolling his eyes. The young man clearly wasn’t any more excited about this than the captain himself was.

“Not that I care as long as it’s not me carrying that damn tree”

XXXXX

“The commander is… really in to it this year” Onyankopon pointed out as he observed Hanji running around, giving orders regarding the Christmas preparations.

“She’s under a lot of stress; this is probably her way of trying to relieve it” Armin said diplomatically, trying to not be too hard on his superior “She’ll calm down eventually.”

“She’d better, or people’s clothes won’t be the only red thing around this Christmas” Levi said from where he sat cleaning the tree decorations, making Onyankopon look at him worriedly. Armin paid the man no mind, knowing he wasn’t as serious as one might think.

“As cheerful as ever I see, captain” Yelena said as she came over, carrying a box that was almost the size of Levi “Not much of a Christmas person, I assume.”

Levi simply gave her a look that told her he was tired of her shit. Charming.

“What’s in that box, Yelena?” Armin asked as he came closer, wondering if he’d be able to carry it with the same effortlessness as Yelena did “Is it heavy?”

“Not really, but the size makes it a little difficult to carry” she cast a knowing smile at Levi “Or at least it would to some people.”

The captain gave her a glare, and Armin wondered if he should just bail.

“There you are!” Hanji called out as she spotted Yelena, running over in a flash “I needed that!”

“What is it?” Armin asked curiously as Yelena put the box down and Hanji started unpacking it. Out came a statue of a white bearded man dressed in red “That’s…” Armin paused, trying to remember the name of the fictional character “Santa Claus?”

“Yes!” Hanji confirmed with a grin “I actually ordered this from the Reeves company last year, but it didn’t get finished in time. Now we can finally use it!”

It seems Hanji had been more in to it already last year than they had thought.

“Yelena, give me a hand so that we can find a place for this” Hanji said, and the woman dutifully picked the statue up again “As for you two, help Levi with the decorations.”

“…Sure” Onyankopon said, knowing he had nothing better to do at the moment anyway. Armin, however, declined.

“Actually commander, there are some preparations I have planned to do myself, if you don’t mind” he said. Hanji raised an eyebrow, asking: “Christmas preparations?”

“Yes ma’am”

“Then you’re dismissed!”

Hanji and Yelena went off to their own business and, as Levi watched Armin go, he couldn’t help but comment: “I wonder if the little shit actually has something to do or if he just bailed on us.”

“Armin playing hooky?” Onyankopon asked in surprise “He doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”

Levi snorted.

“You’re in for a real surprise one day if you think that” he said, now observing how Hanji made Yelena walk in circles as she couldn’t come up with a good place for the statue. As amusing was it was to see the giant woman wandering around aimlessly under Hanji’s orders, the whole Christmas -thing was starting to annoy him. Looking at Onyankopon, he remarked: “And this mess is all your fault.”

XXXXX

“I can’t believe the commander is making us do this” Floch complained as he wrapped up a Christmas present “We have far more important things to do than prepare for some stupid Marleyan party!”

“I don’t mind the break, but I do wonder if the Scouting Legion’s budget can handle all this” Jean said “That’s what the commander used to get the gifts, right?”

“She’s out of her mind” Floch said “Is she really suitable to be a commander?”

Jean frowned at this.

“Careful, Floch” he said “Walls have ears.”

“Yeah, I know” he said with a frustrated sigh “And heads and feet and arms; the walls are freaking titans! That’s another thing we should be looking in to instead of- “

Mikasa, who had been packing presents silently until now, cut off Floch by abruptly standing up.

“Mikasa?” Jean questioned, but the woman ignored him in favor of walking over to Floch, ripping a piece from the tape roll in her hand off before smacking it on the redhead’s face, his mouth to be more specific, effectively silencing him. She turned her gaze to Jean, who immediately got the hint and looked away, continuing to work.

As Mikasa saw that Floch was about to remove the tape, she took another one and crossed it over the first one. Floch glared at her, but Mikasa just raised an eyebrow, looking at him coldly. Floch was able to hold her gaze for a few more moments before no longer having the guts and looking away, returning to his work. Satisfied, so did Mikasa.

XXXXX

“You I can understand” Connie said as he gestured to Eren with a broom “But how did I end up on the HQ cleaning duty?”

“Hanji probably wanted you out of the way” Eren said flatly “You have the tendency to start trouble.”

“Wha-!?” Connie was shocked “Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Getting-Kidnapped-Is-My-Hobby!”

Eren cast his friend a glare, saying: “I kept getting kidnapped because I’m irreplaceable, you know.”

“Uhhuh, sure” Connie said, unimpressed “Everyone wants to steal Levi’s favorite slave who cleans like a pro!”

“…”

Wordlessly, Eren chucked the rag he’d been cleaning with straight to Connie’s face.

“Alright” Connie said, taking the rag off “You’re just asking for trouble.”

“Bring it” Eren told him, and soon they were battling with mops and brooms, trying to swipe each other in the face with them. Connie was still shorter, so one would think that Eren had the upper hand but, like always, Connie’s reflexes made up for his size. He was not one to be taken lightly.

“What are you two doing?” the young men froze, momentarily fearing they’d been caught by Levi, but soon they relaxed as they realized it was just Yelena “You’ve made a mess, you know.”

Looking around, Connie and Eren realized it was true. Shoot.

“…We need to clean this up before the captain finds out” Eren said.

“Yeah, we probably should” Connie said, turning to Yelena “Since you’re here, give us a hand, would you?”

Yelena just smiled, as usual, and the duo paled as she stepped aside, revealing a very pissed off Levi behind her.

“Shit”

XXXXX

“Sasha for the last time, those are for everyone!” Nikolo yelled, whacking Sasha’s hand away from the gingerbreads with a wooden spoon, ignoring her yelp “Keep your chubby hands off of them!”

“My hands aren’t chubby!” Sasha protested with a pout “They’re just swollen because you keep hitting them!”

“I wouldn’t hit if you weren’t such a thief, you little pig” Nikolo muttered “Can’t you go help with the Christmas tree or something?”

“But I want to be here with you!”

Nikolo blushed, but forced it away before Sasha could see and instead said: “You mean you want to be here with the food, right?”

“….”

“Sasha”

“Can’t it be both, okay!?” Sasha finally broke under pressure “You make the best food, but I also like you!”

Nikolo blushed again, and this time Sasha noticed.

“And you like me too” she said with a confident grin, but the stubborn POW just scoffed “Ahha, sure, who doesn’t like greedy thieves in their kitchen.”

“Meanie” the girl said, sticking her tongue out at him “We better get back to work.”

Whacking her with the spoon again, Nikolo pointed out: “You’re the one who keeps slowing us down in the first place.”

XXXXX

“Thanks for giving me a hand Hitch” Armin said as he and Hitch decorated Annie’s underground chamber for Christmas.

“No prob” the woman said “Though I would’ve liked to be invited to this “Christmas party” when you had one last year or, you know, to get invited this year!”

Armin laughed nervously.

“Yeah, sorry about that, it was just pretty hectic and all new. Even now Hanji’s probably ordering everyone around like a slave driver.”

“So that’s why you ran off here?” Hitch snickered “Smart move.”

“I didn’t even need to lie; simply said that I have Christmas preparations elsewhere” the blond told, struggling to throw a bow over Annie’s crystal “It’s good to be trusted!”

“Except when it comes to reaching things” Hitch snickered as she snatched to bow that kept falling from Armin “The all mighty Colossal Titan can’t even reach high enough to put a bow on a girl!”

“Ha, really funny” Armin said, gaping as Hitch climbed on the crystal “Hitch, you’re not supposed to do that!”

“I’m in charge of the sleeping beauty; I can do what I want” Hitch told without missing a beat “As long as nothing goes wrong, nobody needs to know.”

“And if something does go wrong?”

“Then we’ll finally have some process” Hitch said with a shrug, patting the crystal “Our girl’s been sleeping long enough!”

Well, Hitch wasn’t wrong.

“I hope we can celebrate Christmas with Annie some year for real”

XXXXX

“Christmas is so not worth all this” Jean thought as he leaned on some empty crates, out of Hanji’s sight. He’d thought the commander had been a real slave driver at first, but when they were done with the presents and got to the decorations, he realized he’d been wrong. The true devil had yet to come out “She ought to give us a break…”

He actually had it the hardest, being the best with the gear after Levi. The captain had fled under the excuse of cleaning, so Hanji had put him in charge of decorating the place with his gear. That would’ve been fine had Hanji not kept screaming instructions all the time… if it was so important, why not do it herself?

“Candy cane for your thoughts” Jean jolted, but relaxed once he realized that it was just Eren who popped down next to him. Raising an eyebrow, the young man asked: “A candy cane? Really?”

“I’m completely broke; take it or leave it” Eren explained, actually holding out a red and white candy “Well?”

Jean snorted, taking the offered treat.

“In how big trouble do you think I’d get to if I murdered our superior officer?” he asked as he unwrapped the candy.

“Make it look like an accident and you should be fine” Eren said, taking out a candy cane of his own “Maybe the tree will fall on top of her?”

“Yeah, maybe” Jean snorted “So who’s she focusing her attention on now?”

“Sasha and Connie; Hanji made them take your place as soon as she noticed you were gone” the shifter told “She’ll be pissed.”

“If those two pisses her off even more before she finds me, she won’t remember she has something to be mad at me about” Jean said “She’s a bit too disorganized for that right now.”

“Who’s too disorganized for what now?” the boys looked up, seeing manically grinning Hanji standing on the crate, a box of candles in her hands “Break time’s over boys, chop chop!”

They groaned, wondering how hard it would be to inconspicuously tip the tree over.

XXXXX

“We’re done!” Hanji cheered, jumping up and down next to the tree.

“And with a good timing” Onyankopon said, wiping sweat from his forehead “Though we did work like crazy for all this; maybe we should make a do with a little less next year…”

“Nonsense; next year will be even better!” Hanji protested, making everyone at the hearing range groan. Frowning, Hanji asked: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, commander” Eren said as he stood up, bringing his hand close to his mouth “Though there is one thing I forgot to hang on the Christmas tree. Permission to transform?”

“Permission granted!” Hanji said without missing a beat, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“Eren?” Mikasa questioned, but Eren ignored her as he backed away from everyone else before his transformation. After he was done, Levi came over with some Christmas ribbons, handing them to the titan.

“Make this a peaceful Christmas for us; we’ve all deserved it” he said. The titan nodded, the scouts and Marleyans watching as he took off towards the huge Christmas tree, but not before picking up the commander.

“Ooh, I get to hang it?” she asked, not protesting as Eren carried her closer to the tree. She only started to feel like something was wrong as Jean flew in with his gear on Eren’s shoulder, reaching for the tree “Guys?”

As the titan and the horse faced young man grinned, Hanji knew she was in for it now. Had she had her gear, she would’ve bailed that very second but the thing is, she didn’t. She was at their mercy.

“Merry Christmas commander” Jean said as he and Eren tied Hanji up to the top of the tree “Hope you’ll have a peaceful Christmas up here; we sure as hell will- just not this high!”

“What? C’mon guys, after all I’ve done for you!” Hanji wailed, trying to break free, but Jean and Eren ignored her in the favor of saluting the cheering and laughing scouts. The mood getting the best of him, Jean yelled from the top of his lungs: “MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!”

XXXXX

OMAKE:

“I can’t believe you were so clumsy”

“Me? What about you? You should’ve caught me properly like a gentleman!”

“I told you not to climb on the crystal!”

“Well you could’ve actually stopped me instead of whining, oh brave scout!”

Armin and Hitch glared at each other from the awkward ankles they’d ended up on when Hitch fell off of the crystal, right on top of Armin, tangling them both with the giant bow.

“…”

“…So, when will Boris show up?”

“Knowing his lazy ass, around noon.”

“Great” Armin said with a sigh “Merry Christmas.”

#snk fic #fanfic #fanfiction #hanji zoe #levi ackerman #eren yeager #onyankopon #yelena #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #jean kirstein #floch forster #connie springer #sasha blouse #nikolo #hitch dreyse #annie leonhardt

12 notes · View notes

dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

Text

CSUAPR prt 40 start

“You’re doing it again” “Am not” “Are too. It’s perfect. You don’t need to keep moving it” “I think it’s too far to the left” “I’m telling you it’s not” “And I’m telling you it is” “Lance, you’re being impossible” “Then tell me dear husband, why is the “T” not over the middle? I drew on the mantle remember?” “Because the letters aren’t the same size” “What kind of lazy arse company doesn’t make the letters the same size!?” “In this case I think it’s the fault of the English alphabet. Now, will you please get off the damn ladder already!” “Not if you’re going to be grumpy!” “You’re the one being grumpy” “Am not” “Are too! It looks perfect!” “It’s crooked!” “Boys! Now, now. No fighting. Lance, please get down from that ladder. I’m having guppies watching you up there” Rolling his eyes, Lance sighed as he climbed back down the ladder, Keith quick to move it away from the wall so he couldn’t climb back up there to fix the damn hanging sign. None of this had been his idea, but if he was going to be forced to spend the afternoon with everyone, then it had to be perfect “It’s “kittens”, Coran. The expression is having “kittens”. If you were both going to get so annoying over the ladder, why did you let me up there in the first place?” “Because Coran said I need to let you do more things without worrying” “I wasn’t aware how stressing it would be” Pointing at both Keith and Coran, Lance huffed “You both suck. You both suck and everyone’s going to be here soon” Hissing slightly as he rubbed his stomach, Lance was having so many regrets. Why did he agree to a baby shower? Why couldn’t Krolia have a baby shower? She was the one nearly due. He could have had cake. He could have watched her be happy, while being forced to socialise. Gazing around the room they’d be loaned for the afternoon, nothing seemed to have been done, other than the “congratulations” sign, that was glaringly crooked. The balloons seemed stupid where they were and Coran was maintaining a safe distance away from him as he continued inflating them. “Hey, guys! What do you need?” “Oh thank god...” Carrying their present in between them, Lance was happy as Keith to see Shiro and Curtis. Keith was happy to see Shiro because apparently “he was grumpy”. Lance was happy to see Curtis because there was no way that Keith, or Coran, would tell him off when Lance sent him back up the ladder to fix the damn sign. Shooting his husband a glare Keith didn’t notice, Shiro chuckling as he and Curtis placed their wrapped gifts relatively close to the door “It looks great...” Keith cut him off, Lance was certain nothing looked great “No. Don’t go there. Lance says otherwise” “You two aren’t fighting again, are you?” “Keith won’t admit the banner is crooked” Groaning Keith crossed his arms, sounded physically pained over the state of the sign “It’s not crooked” Snapping back, Lance didn’t understand how his husband couldn’t see it was! “It’s not straight either!” “Neither are we!” Curtis was met with three heavy eye rolls, and a wave of invisible annoyance that made him take a literal step back with his hands held up on surrender “Tough crowd. Lance, do you need some help?” Thank the Lord for Curtis “Yes. Please. Keith won’t listen. Do you think that “congratulations” banner is crooked?” “It looks higher on the left...” Keith facepalmed, Lance’s glaring at the offending sign. He’d had it. Things were going sideways before the party even started. Stalking the few steps back to the banner, he reached up and grabbed the “G”. Before he could tear it down, Keith was grabbing him around the stomach and lifting him off his feet. Carrying over the sofa, he stood him down in front of it. Man handled into sitting, Keith lifted his legs to force him to lay down instead. His hands moved to rest on his stomach. Surely he hadn’t been so annoying that he had to been put in a “time out” “Curtis will fix it. You. Sit down, and take a breather. You’re stressing me out watching you stressing yourself out” “You said I could do the decorations!” “Because you said you’d only have a baby shower if you could help set up!” “I was! Red, Keith. Red” The day was their last day before the tour finally started. Lance would like to say everything had been alright since returning to Keith’s quarters. Having Keith’s full attentions for the day and night had been soothing. Not simply the sex, but the lazy cuddles and kissing. The fact they had nowhere to be, and no one interrupting their alone time until early evening. Crying out his shitty feelings, Keith had changed the top sheet they’d messed up, then they’d cuddled as his husband played on his hand held game, while Lance laid in his arms and watched. Proving “help” when he could. Krolia had had dinner sent to them, delivered by Coran. Reassuring them that they could talk the following day, Coran had kept his word, coming a little after breakfast which Lance bullied Keith into making the effort to eat with everyone else. It was Coran’s idea to have a “pause” word. A word of warning for both of them when things were starting to devolve into another fight. Keith had hit the “Red Zone” twice that morning. Lance was worried enough about the tour, his nerves on edge when he’d climbed out of bed to throw up. Fussing over him, Lance had felt smothered, using “Red” to “pause” Keith long enough to tell him that he was feeling smothered. His husband had hit “Red” again when he tried to put him on the sofa while he and Coran started hanging up the directions Shiro had procured. Lance had already made it clear that he wanted to do the set up. He wanted to ensure there wasn’t any form of surveillance without being called paranoid. This was Keith’s third “Red”. “Me, red? You red!” “Me? How?” He was about start crying. His eyes glossy with unshed tears “You’re worrying yourself into a panic” He wasn’t panicking. He was angry because apparently people couldn’t make a freakin’ banner “I want things to be perfect. I want everyone to have a good time” “They’re here to hang out with you. No one cares if the sign is crooked” “I do!” “And now you’re crying. Babe. You don’t have to stress about this. They’re our friends” “Who are all going to focusing... Red. I’m being Red. I don’t want to talk about it” Who would be focusing on what a freak he was. Keith had banned the term during their talk with Coran. He was not a freak. He just a little different, and no different from when Keith’s Galra side showed. Leaning down, Keith kissed his forehead “You’re not being Red. Maybe we both were a little Red, but the banner looked good. Yo me it looked good. I know you’re worried, but it’s just going to be our friends” “That’s why I’m worried. They’ve seen too much bad stuff. Seizures. Panic attacks. Now I’m pregnant and... and...” Keith kissed his forehead again. Since their “make up” sex, his husband had been trying to be more intimate with his touches, trying to deal with his fear of accidentally hurting him again. It seemed to help both their instincts. Keith had calmed down considerably, thought that might have been due to the fact that they couldn’t wake up normally. Sometimes he’d wake first, or Keith would wake first, they’d silently lay there marvelling in each other and what they had... then morning wake up kisses would evolve into taking the morning slow with plenty of cuddling, nuzzling and fooling around if Lance was feeling up for it. Which he was... he couldn’t help the flood of hormones or the way the weight of his pregnancy pushed down against his prostate. Plus, having Keith so clearly want him was helping him feel better about his changing body. Sometimes it didn’t have to be something sexual that sent him sky high with love for his idiot. Before they’d left to start setting up, he’d leaked through his bra and shirt without noticing. Keith had stepped in, finding him nursing pads sent over by Krolia to stuff in his bra and helped him change his shirt. Things weren’t perfect. Sometimes despite a good morning they were snapping at each other by lunch, but this whole colour system helped. A word to say everything they were feeling was too much or they’d gone too close to too far “And you’re beautiful. I’m here with you. You don’t have to answer anything at all that makes you uncomfortable. If you have to lie, lie. I’ll support it” “I’m scared they’re going to ask how I learned I could pregnant. I’m scared they’re going to work it all out” “They already know it’s thanks to Allura. Anything more than that... we can just say it was a surprise” “More like a shock” “That too. Do you want something to drink? Or something to eat?” His stomach said a firm no to both options “No. I’m ok. I’m sorry I’m so stressed. I really want this to be perfect for everyone” “Babe. This is about you. We’re all hanging out to be with you. All everyone is going to care about is that you’re having a good time. I know you’re anxiety levels are sky high, but if you tell me “Red” at any point, we can take a breather. No one’s going to be upset or offended” “Tell that to my stupid head” “I am. Do you want to cuddle a bit before everyone gets here? Coran’s doing the balloons and from the looks of Curtis and Shiro are hanging up the rest of the decorations. There’s not much else to do until everyone gets here” “I feel like I should be helping” “Babe. You literally went crazy hanging up everything you could as soon as we got here. You’re allowed to take a break” Hanging up streamers, paper chains and banners hardly counted as hard work. But if he had an anxiety attack before, or as soon as, everyone arrived, it’d only ruin things for their friends “Maybe for a little bit” “Skooch over then. I’m coming in” “You already did that this morning” Keith blushed slightly as Lance drew his legs up to make space then climbed into his husband’s lap. Almost immediately, Keith started rubbing his wrist against his neck, trying to smother him with his scent. It sucked no longer being able to wear Keith’s clothes for comfort. He could detect the traces of anger of their little fight about the banner on him, as well as his own anxieties and feel the tenseness from the fear of his anxieties flaring into a fit of jealousy. Perhaps because Coran was older, Keith had been able to keep his unintended insults to a minimum around Coran. He’d growled a few small growls each time Coran had hugged him, or Coran had reached to take his hand before Keith’s brain caught up to the fact it was to be comforting and not to hurt him “I’ll be doing it tonight too” “Mmmm. Depends how tired I am. I think I’m only going to be up for some heavy snuggling and a bad alien rom-com when we get back” “Does it have to be a rom-com?” Keith didn’t understand romantic comedies. Not that Lance could blame him, alien rom-coms were weird as hell. The one they’d watched a few nights ago bordered on tentacle porn... really hot tentacle porn, yet really creepy at the same time. His arse took enough abuse from his husband, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to take 10 tentacles up there without splitting in two, and had prayed to God they weren’t going to meet the race that made the film “No. If we ask Shiro, he might have something more Earthy” “We need to invest in more movies. There’s the space at the outpost, we could turn it into a cinema” “My emo edge-lord husband’s becoming to trendy. Whatever am I going to do with you?” Keith dropped to a sullen mumble “I thought it’d make you happy” “You make me happy. We’ll figure it out. For now cuddles and hiding when everyone comes in” “You’re in my lap. You’re not exactly hiding” Sure he was. His back was towards the party preparations “Fiiiiine. Cuddles” “Cuddly octopus cuddles?” Dropping his hand to Lance’s stomach, Keith tickled him lightly. Lance sighing deeply. Keith with tentacles decided to come to mind... his brain straight out “noping” at the thought “No. You can do that later. Normal cuddles” “Normal cuddles it is” “Thank you” “You’re welcome. Wait. What am I being thanked for?” “Cuddles, Keith. Thank you for the cuddles” “Oh. No worries” He wasn’t out of the “Red Zone”, but for a time out, cuddles weren’t a bad way to be “punished”. He was still anxious as quiznak over the party, he hated that he wasn’t hanging up decorations or fussing over the balloons, but Keith was right. He’d been stressing since the night before and now he ran the risk of an attack. He needed to sit down and breathe. He knew he everyone coming. There were no hidden surveillance devices. These were the people who were supposed to be their friends... so he needed to relax. * Pidge was the first of their friends to arrive, having put herself in charge of entertainment, she was fast to deposit her gift in Lance’s lap with a “what’s up, losers?”, then bail to the main table to get things sorted. Keith’s team, plus Veronica were next. Again, with presents. Ezor had her arms full until she dumped them down in Lance’s lap, only for Veronica to get antsy and take them all away, before telling him to get out of Keith’s lap and sit normally. Hunk and Shay were hot on their heels, wheeling in a trolley absolutely laden with food, forcing Pidge from the table to the spare seat beside them, her informing them that all the food was safe and allergen free. That left Krolia the last to arrive, though according to Keith she had a few jobs to do before she came. With a questionable playlist playing in the background, Pidge had pulled up his ultrasound scans. Her projector set up on top of Curtis and Shiro’s gift, beaming onto the wall where the banner he’d had so much trouble getting placed, had been relocated from. Curtis had taken offence, after all, he’d gotten it perfectly centred and aligned just before Pidge bossed him into taking it down. Coran was continuing to “have kittens” in the background. His balloons were being moved by Veronica, who’d taken over rearranging the whole room for no good reason. If he’d been in the “Red Zone” his sister was in the “Black Zone” and going deeper by the dobosh. Things hadn’t truly started yet, so it felt a little premature to call “Red”, yet, Keith did. Ezor popping up from behind the sofa, popping her pink gum so loudly they both jumped with a flinch. Lance’s hand went to grab at his boot knife, that wasn’t there, as Keith’s hand went to his side to grab his blade that also wasn’t there. Taking Keith’s hand, Lance excused them. Shiro following them as they slipped from the room and into the hall. Ignoring his brother-in-law’s presence, Lance slung his arms over his husband’s shoulders, nuzzling at his face. His heart was still racing, and Ezor didn’t want to know what he wanted to do with her gum “Breathe with me” “I’m ok. She took me by surprise” “Keith, take a breath” His husband took an unnecessarily deep breathe, exhaling loudly. Lance snorting, resorting to humour in an attempt to make him feel better “Ok. Ok. You can breathe, you dick” “I don’t know why I...” Keith sounded as if he’d committed some great sin, Lance wasn’t standing for it “I did the same” “Yeah, but I’m used to her popping her gum” “And the sound came out of nowhere. She’s probably in there laughing her arse off” “I thought it was a shot...” “I did too. V hasn’t helped” “No. I’m... I think I’m “Red”” “You’re not “Red”. Maybe pink, but not “Red”” “She changed everything. It made me mad” “She annoyed me too, but I’m trying” “It’s your baby shower. I don’t get why she had to change everything we set up” Yeah. He was miffed about that. Everything he’d done was undone by his sister as if he didn’t have an eye for this kind of thing “I don’t either. I’m proud though. You didn’t lose your temper, not even when Pidge sat next to me” “It put me on edge” Nuzzling his husband’s cheek, Lance pressed a kiss to Keith’s scar tip. He hadn’t been able to look at Hunk, but this was Keith calling “Red”, not him. He didn’t want to stress his love further by mentioning his anxieties decided today he couldn’t meet Hunk’s gaze, let alone actually greet him like a friend. No. Keith would worry too much if he knew... “But you didn’t snap. You recognised the symptoms and you took a breath. That’s the main thing. Are you ready to go back in?” “Yeah... Yeah. Mum should be here soon” Keith didn’t sound enthused about heading back in “Do you want to stay out here until she comes?” “No. I’m fine, Shiro. You can head in if you want” “Drawn” into their conversation, Shiro pulled them both into a hug. Lance and Keith both screwing their faces up in fake revolt “I’m so proud of you guys. You talked it out instead of fighting. I don’t know what this “Red” means, but it seems to be working” Keith let out a growl tinged squeak as he tried to push Shiro off. Lance scared that his husband was going to snap, instead he sounded annoyed “It’s a Coran thing. Can you stop squashing my husband? He’s pregnant” “Plus, Keith is “Pink” right now. I think we’re both a bit “Pink” thanks to Veronica” “To think she’ll be taking over as Captain of the Atlas. I want you both to know I’m happy for you. I can’t rein your sister in. I’m afraid you’re going to need to be patient with her. Patience yields focus” You could take Shiro out of space, but you couldn’t take the “Space Dad” out of Shiro “Ok. Noted. Now let go” Shiro finally let go, ruffling Keith’s hair as he did, Keith swatting at him “Our two father’s to be” “That’s enough” “Lance and Keith...” Stepping on Shiro’s toes, Keith scowled are his brother. Lance widely staying out of their bickering “You’re acting like Coran. You’ve know for movements now that Lance is pregnant. No more teasing us” “I can’t help it. My little brother...” Taking him by the hand, Keith tugged him back towards the baby shower “Ignore him. He’s broken” “But I’m gonna be an uncle” “I’m not letting you near our kids unless you settle down” “I can’t help it. Pidge has your ultrasounds playing. What happened to the Keith that was excited by their tiny hands?” “Get your eyes off their tiny hands” Hitting the hand reader, the door opened before them. They’re friends all making themselves busy around the food in an attempt to hide the fact they’d been trying to eavesdrop. Their friends were wankers. Shiro gently propelling them both in the room before they could escape. Walking over to them with a plate load of food, Veronica narrowed her eyes at him “What was that?” “What was what?” Trying to play dumb caused Veronica to narrow her eyes further “You walked out of your own baby shower. Is something wrong? Do we need to take you to the infirmary?” “What? No. I needed to ask Keith something without everyone listening” “Is there something we should know that you’re hiding from us?” “Dios, V. Calm down. Dad here already came out with us” Mentally Lance continued his sentence, annoyed he couldn’t have a private word with husband without everyone thinking he needed to be supervised “You’ve already rearranged the whole baby shower as it is, why don’t we just celebrate you for the quintant and call it a night” He was dying to say it. The plate in front of him was piled up because Veronica clearly thought he wasn’t being fed or something... or maybe she didn’t trust him to feed himself “I’m worried about you” “I’m fine, V. You’re making a scene” “You should be resting” “Which I would be if you weren’t questioning me. I’m fine. I can get my own food, and make it to the sofa perfectly fine. It’s a party” “You stepped out... I want to know it’s not due to something medical” “It wasn’t. I’m fine. They’re fine. We’re all fine. Keith, let’s grab something to eat” “I got you a plate...” “Thanks, but I can choose what I want to eat, and that’s way too much food” All of it sided on healthy. Healthy might have been the better idea, but he’d seen the purple iced cupcakes Hunk had baked. They were calling his name with their sweet sugary goodness “You need to eat. You’re too thin” Keith squeezed his hand firmly, tugging him back as he put himself slightly between them. Great. Keith’s instincts were playing up as it was “Dios, V! Stop it! You are not Mami. You’re being rude. The twins are perfectly healthy. Now you’re stressing me out with your worrying, and I just wanna relax” “Why are we all standing in the doorway? Don’t tell me you started the party games without us” Spinning around, Keith was pulled along. His husband wrapping his arms around him as they both found Shiro had stepped back for Marco, Daehra, Lucteal and Krolia “Marco! What you doing here?!” “You didn’t think I was going to miss my baby brother’s baby shower, did you!?” Given Keith wouldn’t let him go, he was dragged the few steps as Lance threw his arms his brother “How!?” “That’s up to Krolia to tell you. You’re looking better than the last time I saw you” “I’m looking fatter!” “That too. Now, there better be food left. I can’t remember the last time I tasted Hunk’s cooking” “There’s plenty of food. Come on in already. Keith and I were about to grab something ridiculously sugary” “I would eat a shoe if Hunk cooked it” “We know. Make sure you say thank you to Shay while you’re stuffing your face” Giving him a playful shove, Marco nodded at Keith as he passed, making a beeline for the food with the comment “I will” Daehra and Lucteal both stood in front of Krolia looking nervous, reaching out, the two siblings reluctantly returned his hug. Lance was no empathy, yet he knew the aura his husband was casting. If Veronica wasn’t his sister, than his sister would be nursing a broken nose by now. His siblings took overbearing to the maximum “Sorry about Keith. I’m so happy to have you here. Come in, find somewhere to sit. No one told me you were coming. How’s the outpost? How’s Zak and Tobias? And Th’al? Have you heard from her? What about Yule?” He was happy. Happier than when everyone else had arrived. He missed his team. He missed working for his GAC and leading them on crazy adventures. He missed his outpost and everything he’d worked his arse off to build out of nothing. None of his old friends or team could say they helped him. Keith had had minimal contribution to the outpost too. It was his baby. The proof he wasn’t the useless seventh wheel “First you to tell me to sit, now you ask me question after question. You’re the one who needs to spill. How could you worry us like that!? I had hoped you two idiots would stay out of trouble. Yet, you manage to get into a fight. I had a good mind to come here and shoot you for worrying us” “Aw, Daehra. I missed you too. It was a minor scuffle. I’m all healed up now” “You’re still in trouble. As for your questions, everyone, and the outpost are adequate. Marco has managed not to screw up majorly in the last movement, though we did have the Erathus police pay us a visit. Two bounties, people trafficking. They refused to take the captives back to their home planet so we bribed them to get them back to Erathus. Th’al organised safe passage home” “That’s my girl! Man, I’m missing so much. Right. Go get something to eat and drink, then I want to hear all about this” Daehra hadn’t told him of this, Lance kind of annoyed that she’d keep something that big from him, but so quiznakking proud of them. Taking a hit to the bounty meant nothing when it helped get people safely back to their home planets and resulted in less scum flying around their sector. Moving back, with Keith still “octopusing” him, the two siblings stepped into the party where Acxa was quick to make them feel welcomed. Finally Krolia entered, leaving space for Shiro to slip in behind her. Hugging his mother-in-law, she gave him a firm squeeze before breaking the embrace “Like your surprise?” “Are you kidding me? I love it. How are they here?” “I may have decided that you needed a wormhole generator at your outpost so I could visit my grandchildren easier” “Are you serious?!” That was a costly bit of tech. Complicated too “We scrapped a cruiser not that long ago. We were going to install it in one of our newer ships, but then Keith mentioned having a baby shower and I knew I had to set it up on your end. Miriam will be ecstatic when she hears. She did want to be here...” “And here she is” “Mami!” Carrying what seemed to be a heavy present, his mother shuffled around the doorway. Shiro player the perfect gentleman by taking the package from her. Thanking him, his mother found herself in a bear hug as Keith finally let go from around his waist and Lance pounced on his mother “What are you doing here? I thought you and Papi would be busy on the farm?” “I couldn’t miss your baby shower, Mijo. Krolia called me to organise the whole thing. Papi wishes he was here, but you know your father’s not one for baby showers. He’s fine, and sends his love” “And the farm?” “The farm is just fine, Mijo. Now let me hug my other son” Lance pouted as his mother dumped him in favour of Keith. His husband hugging her without a single ounce of self awkwardness. The hug was brief but loving. Lance loving the way his husband could finally hug Miriam without awkwardly hovering his hands above her back because he was too unsure where to put them “Mami. I didn’t know you were coming. Thanks for being here” “I’m only here for a couple of hours, Mijo... oops, vargas. I wanted to see both of you after that horrible attack and all those horrible lies. They make me so livid” Slinging his arm over his mother’s shoulder, Lance didn’t want to think about the attack now that his mother was there, nor did he want Keith worrying over it and triggering his instincts by accident “Alright, Mami. It’s a party. Hunk and Shay did all the cooking. Pidge is on entertainment. Coran did the balloons and Veronica did the redecorating. Shiro and Curtis tried to help but when the girls got here that went out the window” His mother laughed “Oh dear! I’m sure it was wonderful before hand. Oh, Mijo. It’s so good to see you off those crutches and looking better” “I’m feeling better. My stomach hasn’t felt as gross now that I’m not accidentally eating things I’m allergic too” “I’m glad it was figured out. You lost so much weight. Have you put any on?” “I’m rounder, does that count?” His mother shook her head “No. Though you do look as if you’re about 22 weeks, if I didn’t know it was twins, I’d think you much further along. Is that a Galra trait?” “Galra pups do tend to be slightly larger than human babies, but given Lance is full human and Keith is only half-Galra, they’re more likely to be a healthy human size” Krolia piped up from behind them. Lance feeling rude having his back towards her thank to hugging his mother “At least you won’t need to worry about a natural delivery. Now, let me get some of this delicious food and let’s all get comfortable” The sofa was dragged across closer to the table as the room was rearranged to fit everyone more comfortably. Lance ended up sitting between Keith and his mother, directly across from where Marco was slowly driving Veronica crazy by stealthily flicking small berries at her. Acxa teaming up with Marco to flick the berries that missed his target back to him. On his bump sat his cupcake, each time he’d gone to take a bite, someone would say something that took extra attention to focus on. Before he knew it, he was pressed as hard to Keith as he could be, and out of nerves he’d reduced his precious cupcake to rubble. Not one to say no to cuddles, his husband was holding him firmly against him, Keith feeding him a bite of his own cupcake after deciding it was too sweet for him. To Lance the frosting was delicious in every way he needed butter, sugar, and bubblegum flavouring to be. The cupcake was a moist lemonade base, that failed to capture his interests. He knew he was probably being a horrible friend by not commenting on how amazing the cupcakes truly were. Closer inspection had revealed a shimmering silver swirl through the piped purple icing, inside was like a mini-galaxy with lines of blues, greens and hot pink. Like everything Hunk baked, he’d worked hard and took pride in his work... only now he’d reduced one to rubble and wasn’t sure what to do with the debris. Not noticing his mother leave his, it was as if she read his mind as she placed a fork down next to demolished cupcake. Laughing at Mami’s actions, Keith drew his attention up from his plate “What?” “Nothing. It’s fine now” “Huh?” He was lost. Very lost. Why was Keith smiling at him? Drawing his brow in confusion, Keith kissed his forehead before explaining “You were staring at your cupcake so intently you looked like you were about to cry. Mami asked if you wanted a spoon, but you didn’t reply. Then you said out loud that you wished you had a fork” He had? Here he thought he’d been doing a good job keeping up with everyone... maybe he hadn’t “Oh” His cheeks reddened, their friends laughing lightly at his absent mindedness. Why did they have to laugh? “It’s a good cupcake?” “Yeah. They’re amazing cupcakes... this whole baby shower is amazing... Th-thank you” Fuck. Quiznak. He was crying. His Mami taking his plate while Keith nuzzled his hair “Sorry... I’m just really grateful you’re all here” No one had said anything overly annoying other than Veronica. No one was making a fuss, happy to talk to each other while he listened on. Keith was warm and soothing at his side, his husband’s scent spiking from time to time, but overall even. His husband had kept his temper and by being called out he’d been able to say that Hunk’s cupcakes were amazing. This was all he wanted. No one making him feel like the centre of attention. No one asking him a million and one questions over his pregnancy. He had his Mami and his team... and other than the over all theme of it being a baby shower, it was kind of just like hanging out... with cupcakes. “Red?” Whispering in his ear, Lance gave a small shake of his head “No. A little but no. Nerves” “You don’t need to be nervous” “I destroyed a cupcake” A great cupcake. A cupcake Hunk had probably spent vargas perfecting after he’s spent vargas thinking them up “So? Marco’s been destroying Veronica’s mood this whole time. It’s not a big deal” “I know. I... I think I’m happy... but I don’t know” “You’ve done nothing wrong and you’ve said nothing wrong. Everyone’s having a good time” “Are they? I thought I was paying attention but apparently I zoned out” “You’re nervous. It’s ok” “Do you think it’s alright if I go to the bathroom? Or would it be rude?” “Nope. You’re pregnant. You’ve normally peed by now” “I’m kind of disturbed you know how often I’ve peed. Plus, I haven’t drunk anything” “Babe!” “Shhh... I didn’t say it so you’d yell at me. We all sat down and I kind of felt bad about getting up again” “Idiot. Guys, I’m borrowing my husband for a tick. We’ll be back soon. Veronica, don’t kill Marco while we’re gone. Coran, you’re in charge” Grabbing two glasses of something random off the table, Keith led him out the room again. Pausing a few steps into the hall, Keith then let his hand go to offer him one of the glasses “I have no idea what’s in here, but you need the fluids” “I only wanted to wash my face” That was true-ish. He didn’t want the fuss, nor did he want them to keep watching him while he cried in his husband’s arms “Drink. That one. Then this one. Then we’ll walk to the bathroom” “You sound like you’re trying to get me drunk” “As much as I wish you could drink, it’s not happening” Poking his tongue out, he then took the first glass “This better not be that god awful wine” “I promise I’ll drink the second glass if it is” Throwing it back like a shot, if Lance’s eyes weren’t watering before, they were now. His breath robbed from him as he hunched over to cough and wheeze “Lance!?” “Nunvil. Fuck... that was nunvil...” Keith didn’t seem to believe him, yet shot his drink as a sign of support. Coughing, Keith took his glass for him, placing them both together on the floor “Pidge fucking spiked it” “Why us?” “I don’t know. She’s not being Godmother” “Dios, no. She’s already decided they’re her minions” “Are we having God Parents?” Lance jerked slightly, now wasn’t the time to be asking that, yet his reply came automatically “Shiro and Curtis” Straightening up, Keith seemed to forget they were both recovering from being temporarily winded “Shiro and Curtis? Are you sure?” “Yeah. Yeah, I really am. Are you not?” “No. No. I didn’t know you’d thought about it” “I hadn’t. Not today. They’re... I didn’t even have to think about it. So yeah... I mean, only if you’re ok with it” “I just don’t want you to be just saying that because you think that’s what I want?” “No. Space Dad would be an amazing dad. He’s gonna be an amazing dad. He straightened you out for the most part” Keith raised his hand to his hair, dragging his fingers through the top and ruining the loose ponytail he had his hair in. His husband sounded a little awestruck “Are you really sure?” Lance nodded, his emotions yo-yoing to something akin to a ridiculous happiness he couldn’t define “Yeah. Yeah. I am. Do we tell them? When do we tell them? Is now good? I don’t know the protocol for this kind of thing” “I’m sure not drinking spiked juice is in the baby shower protocol guideline. But yeah. Yeah, when we get back we can tell everyone. Make it official” “Shiro and Curtis are going to make great parents...” Reaching for Keith, he drew him into a tight hug, nuzzling and kissing his neck. God Parents. Shiro and Curtis were going to be God Parents. Official. Like actually tell them properly in front of everyone, God Parents “We’re going to make great parents” “Are we?” “We can’t be worse than Marco or Veronica” Snorting, Lance leaned back, Keith quick to kiss him the tick his face was clear of his neck. Shoving him off, Keith was smiling like an idiot, tugging him back against him, his lips ghosting across Lance’s as he dropped to a whisper “I’ll continue that later” God. If he wasn’t half hard before, he was now. Kisses and laughter had him wanting to run away back to Keith’s room for the remainder of the quintant, yet they couldn’t do that “You better. No more kisses until after the party or we’re never going to make it back” “I’m surprisingly ok with that” “I thought you might be. Now, I want to wash my face and I don’t need an escort...” “You’re getting an escort, whether you liked it or not” “Just keep your hands out my pants” “What about my mouth?” “Keeeeith. Quit it. We can’t be gone that long or everyone is going to know what we got up to” “Let them” He’d been defeated. Completely defeated by his husband “I give up. You’re impossible. You’re having a time out buddy. No coming into the bathroom” “Why?” “Because you’re being impossible” Throwing up his hands, Lance turned to walk away before realising something “Babe, do you actually know where the bathroom is?” Keith messaged Krolia for directions, leading to Krolia chaperoning them too and from the bathroom. His mother-in-law didn’t say anything, but that in it’s self was saying a lot. Lance felt as if she’d right through to the fact they’d been flirting and discussing Blow Jobs in the bathroom right before she stepped out.

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beybladeimagines · 5 years

Note

heya! so these past few days have been pretty shitty. i was wondering if i could request a scenario where michael comforts his s/o after a stressful day? thank you so much💞💞💞

Mod Note: HELLO MY LOVE! I really hope you’re doing okay and I truly hope you get to feeling better. I’m sorry for just now getting to this, but please know you’ve been on my mind and I wish you nothing but the best.

Every part of your body seems to ache, even though you feel like you hardly did anything today. Each step you take feels like someone has wrapped weights around your legs. You’re practically dragging yourself to the door. The other side is meant to serve as salvation, but you don’t really expect anyone to be inside. These have been very distant and tiring days. You can’t remember the last time you actually saw the face of someone you cared about. Work, life, family - all of it seemed to apply so many unnecessary pressures and yet all you could end up doing was enduring. Ah well. At least your bed would keep you safe and sane. Is it sad that sleep is the only thing you’ve been looking forward to all day? When your arm moves to open the door, you anticipate a wave of air conditioning and darkness, but instead you are meant with the strong scent of roses.

Roses…? Your eyes actually open to take in the scene of your home. Everything remains unchanged, but you catch the small path of petals leading upstairs. A faint light in the distance is the only indication that there is life inside this home… And although the gesture seems sweet on the surface, you are far too nervous to simply accept it as normal. You quietly drop your bag on the floor and follow the floral trail straight towards your room. Your hands remain tightly wrapped around the stair handles and you’re searching for something, anything, that could potentially be used as a weapon. The door to your room is cracked open ever so slightly. You see shadows dancing in the distance. These are parts of a person you don’t recognize, so your heart only ends up accelerating. What are you to do… What else CAN you do? Adrenaline kicks in and you decide to embrace recklessness by running towards the door in an attempt to tackle down your intruder. However, the moment you burst into the room, you are met with something you truly didn’t expect.

Before you crashed into the scene, Michael was making sure everything else looked organized. Despite how flirtatious he can be, Michael wasn’t really the romantic type. He knew how to mimic the affections he saw in movies, but could never really do anything original on his own. He heard about leaving a trail of rose petals towards the bedroom, but he didn’t exactly know what was supposed to happen from there. He had a few ideas, some of which satisfied his personal perversions, but he wanted to prioritize your presence than his own wild intentions. Instead, he chose to arrange some chocolates, snacks, and drinks on your bed, along with a few stuffed animals he loaded up in the cart when he was at the store. He couldn’t decide on which one was the best for you, so he simply grabbed all of them. They were cute, you’re cute - if he had to explain what they reminded him of, the answer was all too easy. Michael simply wanted to establish an atmosphere of comfort and nothing provided that kind of security like soft and tasty things.

He didn’t hear you when you walked in, so he simply assumed he had more time. Arms crossed over his chest and gripped the fabric of his current shirt. He wanted to change into something a bit more casual (and something that didn’t smell like cookie crumbs), so he decided to strip within your room. The movement you saw was him removing his shirt, so when you finally barged into the romantic setting he slaved over, you ended up seeing the chiseled body of a blading Adonis. Despite how graceful that image might be, it was ruined by the sound of him screaming, as the noise seemed to definitely counter your own. You didn’t expect to see him, especially here. He had told you last week that he was leaving to go on some kind of tour, thus leaving you all alone. In truth, his brief absence did seem to correlate with the calamities that followed in your life. When one wonderful thing leaves, it invites the presence of so many unwanted worries.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” You are too wrapped up in your current rage to express any excitement. You didn’t even take the time to see the array of gifts he’s managed to leave upon your bed. Michael, on the other hand, has quickly recovered and now stands dumbfounded by your current statement. Hands fall upon his hips as a smirk begins to blossom on his expression. “Really? That’s how you say you missed me?” You must really be immersed in your own anxieties to think of anything else. He was extremely aware that you’ve been on the edge, so he went out of his way to accommodate those emotions. For once, he is worrying about someone who isn’t himself. But is that really the case if he sees you as his other half?

Body approaches, despite its shirtless state. Michael wraps his arms around you, allowing lips to bury themselves into your neck. He radiates so much warmth. The very heat is enough to pull you away from your initial passions, redirecting attention to the merciful man before you. Just like that, he has wiped away the worry and rage that once plagued your person. Your mind is too ensnared by him and the way he practically hands his body over to you. You feel the trail of kisses he leaves upon sensitive skin, as if he’s trying desperately to keep you here instead of seeing you descend into your own day-dreams again. Selfish boy - doesn’t let you rest or escape, but why would you even want to at this point? You place a hand upon his chest, feeling how calm his heartbeats are in comparison to your own. If only you could mimic those movements, but it seems he’s made that his mission. “You just-… You said you were going to be away.”

He chuckles and that sends sweet vibrations across the flesh of your neck, further sedating your shape. Michael begins to pull away, but he never breaks contact with your creation. His hands are now placed at either side of your waist, as if keeping you grounded while he speaks. “I got back early. You’ve been really off these past few days, so I…” His words trail off. Eyes motion towards the bed where the snacks and stuffed animals have been organized. Looking at it now, it seems almost too childish, but again, he was never really good at this kind of stuff. “I don’t know. I just wanted to surprise you. If it’s something you didn’t expect, but still ended up liking, you wouldn’t have to think about what was bothering you.” To him, words seemed so rational, but all at once, he didn’t expect the amount of chaos that came from him trying to do something so sweet.

You finally peak over his shoulder to see the array of goodies, but then your eyes quickly return to his chest. “So… The shirtless part… Did you want me to eat cookies off you like a table?” You tease him and it’s in that moment that you’ve managed to crack your first smile in so long. The action feels so effortless. He’s always had such a magical way of stealing you from your suffering. Michael, however, grows flustered. He completely forgot about his exposed skin, but all at once, he tries to use his confidence to recover. “Well, that wasn’t my initial intention, but… If that’s what you’re into, babes. I’m sure I can get into whatever position is necessary.” You only snort at his response and this causes his confidence to crumble. His defeated state only awakens more amusement and you continue to feel the weight on your shoulders slowly slipping. It seems he’s done an excellent job at serving as a distraction, even if the method was unintentional.

“I was just trying to change.” He covers his now blushing face with his hand, admitting the truth all too early. You look at him, then back at the shirt he once discarded. If his intentions were to get your mind off of all the little things that didn’t matter, he certainly has succeeded. So, since that’s the case, why not see how far he’ll go to keep you at ease. “I think I should do that too…” Unashamedly, Michael peaks through the gap between his fingers. Your words have caught his attention and he hoped he’d be in for a show if he exposed his eyes. “But after a shower.” You can’t help but wink his way. You motion your arm to grab his hand, leading him towards the bathroom. There is no resistance from his end. Every move he makes is so willing and every step is filled with an untamed energy. Arms wrap themselves around your form from behind. He wants to steal another kiss from your sweet skin before playing into your intentions. “I think you might need some help with that, princess,” he speaks with sugar on his tongue, coating words with so much spirited want. You’ve embedded your idea into his head and he’ll do whatever you desire to keep that mind at ease. So, with that, he wastes no more time, “Allow me…”

#beyblade #beyblade imagine #michael summers #scenario #Anonymous

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Cake With a Side of Apeirophobia

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 5845

Summary: Baz is turning twenty, but he doesn't want to celebrate. And he's not willing to say why.

Read on AO3

AN: Welcome to a Baz birthday fic! Creds to @carryonmylovelies for inspiring the title. Feel free to look up apeirophobia now but I'll put a definition at the end of the fic. It's angsty and fluffy, so hope you like it.

———————————————-

Baz

“No party,” I say flatly. Simon’s pout looks absolutely pathetic. He’s looking at me like I just kicked a puppy across the room. Or he’s the puppy I kicked.

“Why not?” he whines. “You’re turning twenty! You’re no longer going to be a teenager!”

I shake my head. “Birthday parties are for children, and like you just said, I’m no longer going a child. Therefore no party.”

Snow whines again, spreading himself out across the table. It’s not a very big table so he takes up a lot of space. I nudge his hand away so I can keep eating my fried dumplings.

“Baz has a point,” Bunce says, then goes into a full body shudder. “Oh that feels so wrong to say.”

“Semi thank you, Bunce.”

“Semi you’re welcome, Basilton.” She looks at Snow and points her chopsticks out. “Not everyone likes celebrating their birthday, Si.”

Snow huffs and sits up again, aggressively stabbing at his vegetables. “It’s a chance for cake, presents, and fun. What’s there not to love?”

I take a page from his playbook and shrug. “I’m just allergic to fun I suppose.”

“Seems like it,” he grumbles, taking out his frustration by stabbing a poor gyoza. (Snow eats with a fork, not chopsticks, of course.) “I just don’t get it.”

And Snow never will. Because he isn’t a possibly immortal vampire. There’s no point in celebrating birthdays when you’re going to live forever. I don’t want a reminder of how not old I’m getting. I’d rather let my birthday pass without notice, no matter how whiny my pathetically adorable boyfriend gets.

We all finish our dinner quite quickly after that, considering we don’t speak. Simon is still brewing about it though. He doesn’t need to speak to show how annoyed he is, he never has. I just ignore it. If he wants to be all pissy that’s his prerogative. I’m not budging.

“Don’t you like cake?” Simon asks as he dries the dishes. We’re doing them together as Bunce paid for most of the takeaway. It’s a fine trade off in my opinion.

“Yes, I like cake,” I sigh, “but that doesn’t mean I need a party. I can have cake without a party.”

“Yeah, but birthday cake is special. It’s a big dessert celebrating you.”

“It’s just another cake.”

Snow frowns as he dries a plastic plate clean. “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a day celebrating you? Lots of people being nice, giving you gifts, laughing and talking.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” I grumble. “Having lots of people drinking too much alcohol and spouting platitudes at me sounds stressful, not fun.” And I mean all that, not just because of the whole immortal thing. I don’t like parties. The immortality is just...the bigger thing.

“It wouldn’t have to be many people. Me, Penny, Fiona, a few of your uni friends maybe. We could have a small thing with wine and fancy cheeses and cake. There wouldn’t even have to be any presents.” He rubs a hand up and down his arm. “I-I mean, I do have something to give you, but I can give it to you later.”

For fuck’s sake, why does he have to be so adorable? Admittedly, that sort of party sounds alright. Not fun, but alright. I wouldn’t want to jump out a window at it. But...it’s still a party celebrating my age, which will stay static, while Simon gets older.

“No,” I say firmly, “no party, cake, or presents, nothing. The day will pass without incident.”

Simon’s frown turns into a full on scowl. What’s he so pissy about? Is he that desperate for cake? We can have cake any day. I hand him a plate and he snatches it from me.

“Why are you being so pushy about this?” I ask with more bite than I intended.

He shoves the plate in the cabinet so hard the cupboard rattles. “I just- I don’t get- How can you-”

“Use your words, Snow.”

He glares at me, looking me in the eye. “What the fuck is going on with you? I’m offering to throw you a nice birthday party and you’re just, being a total arsehole about it. I don’t get it!” He snatches a spatula and furiously dries it. “Some of us grew up without any parties at all, y’know. You could handle one.”

Okay, that’s it. I drop the dish I’m washing and glare right back at him. “No, you do not get to do that. It’s not my fault or anyone else’s you grew up in shitty group homes, Snow. You don’t get to use your sad childhood to make me do what you want.”

Simon’s eyes go very wide and his mouth falls open in shock. “N-No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did,” I hiss. “You were pulling your poor little orphan card to make me feel guilty. That’s not going to work, I still don’t want a party! And I won’t be manipulated!”

“No, I’m not-”

I drop the dish I’m washing, throw the gloves off, and stomp out of the kitchen. “I’m going back to my place.”

“Baz,” Simon almost whines.

“I’m going, Snow.”

I furiously throw on my jacket and boots, all with Simon hovering over me. I start to leave, but he grabs my hand, making me freeze in place.

“Baz,” he says, sounding even more pathetic.

It’s calloused, so warm, so him. Fuck, it’s hard to feel his skin right now. I usually kiss him goodbye before I leave. It’s become routine for us. I miss it, part of me desperately wanting to feel his mouth on mine. But I’m too angry to even look at him right now. So I just squeeze his hand once.

“Good night, Snow,” I say. And I leave, stomping away to try to get my anger out. Simon has taught me the cathartic power of stomping and hitting things. It’s bittersweet. Because I don’t want to think about Simon right now, who probably looks sad and pathetic, who I wish I could comfort right now. But I’m mad, and it’s my fault he’s upset. So I just keep stomping.

———————————————-

I slam the flat door hard, and I hear Fiona yelp. Fuck, I thought she was still out of the country. I’m not going to able to wallow in self loathing and anger in peace.

“Good evening to you too,” Fiona drawls. “Thought you would be at the Chosen One’s place.”

“Where’s the wine?” I ask instead. I don’t want to get plastered, just calm down a bit. Wine always seems to do the trick.

“Chrust, what’s go your knickers in such a twist?”

I stomp to the kitchen and pull a half empty wine bottle out of the fridge. It’s cheap shite but at least it’s something. “It's nothing,” I snap as I pour myself a glass.

“It’s not nothing if your drinking that much wine.”

She has a point. I’m pouring myself a helping glass. I take a deep swig, and when I look up again, my lovely aunt standing in the doorway with a disapproving but sympathetic expression. I look back down at the swirling dark red liquid.

“Snow and I had a fight,” I grumble.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a short silence, then I hear her fuzzy sock steps approach. “And?”

“And what?” I snipe.

She lightly smacks my arm. “Don’t be a smartass, just elaborate.”

I sigh, drumming my fingers on the counter. “He wants me to throw a party on my birthday. I don’t want a party or anything close to that. So we disagreed.”

“Huh.” She leans against the counter with her arms over her chest. “Well, that sounds like something he’d want. The Chosen One does like food. Why don’t you want a party?”

“I don’t like people.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “That can’t be it. You wouldn’t be so cross if that was it.”

“That’s it.

“What did I just say about elaborating, Basil?”

I glare, but her eyes are just as sharp. We’re both stubborn Pitch bastards. She’s not going to budge. Damn her. I look at the counter with clenched fists. “I simply don’t see the need to celebrate my birthday,” I say between gritted teeth. “Since I’m not going to get any older.”

Fiona lets out a long, loud, obnoxious groan. “Basil,” she says through it, “we’ve been through this. You’re not going to live forever.”

“You don’t know that,” I snap, glaring at her again. “None of us know. I could age normally, or slower, or probably not at all! So I don’t see the point in celebrating the fact that even though I’m a year older, I’m not going to change at all, while the man I love withers and dies!”

The whole flat goes silent. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to push all the feelings deep down where they belong. I reach for my wine glass but Fiona slaps my hand away.

“No more of that,” she says. “You need a clear head to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” I grumble. I really, really don’t.

“Tough troll teeth, Baz, we are. And we’re sitting down because I’m old and my feet hurt.”

She goes to the door, but I don’t follow at first. But when Fiona scowls at me, I do. She’s a powerful mage. I’d rather not invoke her wrath. We go to the black leather couch. I sink into the cushions, arms still crossed. I focus on staring at one place on the wall instead of whatever expression is on my aunt’s face.

“Now,” she says, “listen to me, Baz. Yes, you’re right in a way, we don’t if you’re immortal or not. But we also won’t know for years. Until then, there’s no point agonizing over it. You can’t live assuming you’re going to outlive everyone else, because then you’re going to do shit like this.”

“Like what?” I mumble.

“Emotionally close yourself off because you’re scared of being hurt. Which is unfortunately what you’ve been doing for a good chunk of your life, love. You can’t keep it up, especially when you’re dating someone.”

I pull further into myself. I really don’t want to admit that she maybe, possibly, has a point. “Well, I’m still not having a party,” I blurt out defensively. “Snow tried to guilt me by bringing up he never had any birthday parties when he was a kid. It’s not like I personally put him in a bloody group home. It’s just manipulative as fuck and I hate that he did that. So no party, because of that too.”

Fiona sighs, head tilting back over the couch. “Well, that is shitty. He shouldn’t have done that.”

“Exactly.

“At the same time,” her hand falls on my shoulder, “did you tell him about this immortality anxiety?”

I shift uncomfortably, pulling a knee up to my chin. “No, just that I don’t like parties,” I say into the denim. “But he should’ve backed off after I said that.”

She sighs again and moves her arm over my shoulders. “Yes, he should’ve. However, he was probably confused and got frustrated. Because he thought he was doing something nice for you and you were being an arsehole for no apparent reason.”

And now she’s almost perfectly echoing Simon’s words. Hearing them again makes my dead heart twist. “I gave him reasons...”

“But not the real one. And your Chosen One knows you well enough to know when you’re hiding something, idiot.”

I bring my other knee up. I feel like a toddler, but it’s comforting. “He was still being a prick.”

“Yeah, and so were you. He got frustrated and said something dumb. You were being closed off and uncommunicative. You both made mistakes, which is alright. You’re only human.”

“Well, technically I’m not.”

She scoffs and ruffles my hair. Now I really feel like a toddler again. “You are in the ways that count, Basil. You love that boy far too much, and he loves you too. So don’t let these mistakes ruin you two.”

I lean against her, the closest we usually get to a hug. Pitches aren’t known for physical affection. “Okay. But I think I want to sleep now. I’m tired.”

“Go sleep, Baz. I’ll order us breakfast in the morning.”

I lean a bit closer. “Thank you, Aunt Fiona.”

She leans too. “Welcome, love.”

I get up, leaving Fiona to her talk show and joint rolling. I finally take my coat and boots off, but take my phone out. As I’m walking down the hall, I notice I have unread texts from Simon. My heart leaps up and lodges in my throat. I’m still looking at the notification when I sit heavily on the bed. I consider just going to sleep without opening them. But Simon doesn’t deserve to be ignored, no matter how mad I am at him. With shaky fingers, I open the messages

Snow (20:18) hey

Snow (20:20) i hope you got home okay

Snow (20:26) i’m sorry for what i said

Snow (20:27) plz text me

Snow (20:27) only if you want to tho

Snow (20:30) i’m really sorry baz

Snow (20:31) i love you

My heart retreats from my throat, I let out a long breath. Merlin, a few tears of relief even fall down my cheek. He doesn’t hate me. Realistically I know he hasn’t hated me for a long time, but it’s still a huge relief. Part of me does want to talk it out right now. But I know I’m too exhausted to discuss anything serious right now. I should respond though.

Baz (20:45) I’m sorry as well, Simon. Let’s talk more about it in the morning though, when we’re not so tired. I love you.

I move to put my phone done, but it instantly buzzes.

Snow (20:45) okay. night baz. i love you.

I smile. I can't help it.

Baz (20:46) Goodnight, Snow. I love you, too.

I turn off my phone and pad over to my dresser. I throw on my silk pyjama pants, and spot a particular shirt. It’s a bright blue LSE Football shirt. My heart warms at the sight of it. Simon bought the shirt the day I got on the team. He wears it all the time, silently showing his pride in both my academic and athletic ability. So much of his love comes without words. And in turn I love him so much for it. I put the shirt on. It smells like him, brown and sweet. Crowley, I’m such a lovesick idiot.

Going to bed isn’t easy. I was expecting to be with Snow tonight, dozing off with his body tangled with mine. When I close my eyes, I can almost see him there. He’s looking at me with half lidded blue eyes, smiling softly, his tail wrapped around my ankle and a wing covering us both. I love when he does that. Like he’s blocking out the world so it’s just the two of us. Sharing a room with Simon Snow was torture, but sharing a bed with him is heaven.

But when I reach out to where he should be, the sheets are empty and cold. The fantasy is shattered. My stomach clenches in regret. I’m still mad at him but I also miss him. So, so much. It’s not that I can’t sleep alone, it’s just that I prefer Snow next to me. His presence calms the storm in my mind, making it far easier to sleep. But I’m alone tonight. So I sniff his shirt, letting the sweet scent fill my nose, and imagine Simon in his bed right now, maybe thinking about me too.

———————————————-

I’ve been looking at my phone for awhile. It’s a bit pathetic, really. What idiot can’t just call his bloody boyfriend? This idiot apparently. I’m staring at Snow’s contact page. It has his number and a photo. I love this photo. I took it when we went to an amusement park. Simon is sitting on a ferris wheel, the bright multicoloured lights behind him, but they’re no match for his dazzling grin. My chest both soars and aches looking at right now. Fuck, I need to do this. I need to fix things with my wonderful, infuriating, amazing boyfriend.

I tap his number. I expect to get a few seconds to collect myself more, but he answers after only one ring.

“Hi,” his slightly muted voice says through my speaker. Even though I’m nervous, just hearing him is such a relief. I let out a long breath through my nose.

“Hello,” I reply, a little more wistful than I intended. There’s a long stretch of silence. Obviously neither of us know what to say. Well, I know what I want to say, but I don’t know how to start. “You were right.” “I know were just trying to be nice.” “I’m an emotionally closed off idiot.” “You are the love of my life and I cannot lose you over something this stupid.” Well, maybe it’s better to start with the basics.

“I’m sorry,” we blurt out at the exact same time. I snort, pressing a hand to my forehead. Simon giggles on the other end. It sounds like tinkling little fairy bells.

“Can I please start?” he asks weakly.

“Okay,” I reply. Truth be told, I want to start. But he asked first.

He takes a deep breath. It crackles a bit over the phone, plus I’ve got it very close to my ear.

“I’m sorry, Baz,” he says firmly, “I’m sorry I tried to push a party on you. I should’ve just let it go when you first said no. Whatever your reasons, I should’ve listened. And I’m sorry for using my past to guilt trip you. I was pissed and it slipped out by accident, which is not an excuse. I promise it won’t happen again. I-I mean, I have no idea what future me will do. But I’ll definitely try. So, yeah. You can do whatever you want for your birthday. I’m sorry for making it about what I want.” He takes a deep breath. This much speaking must’ve been like a marathon for him. “Also I love you. That never stops. Even when we’re fighting. I just, want to make sure you know that...”

I sigh dreamily. He is so adorable it’s almost unreal. He obviously practiced that whole speech, and I love it, because it shows he cares.

“I know, Snow,” I say. “I love you, too. Even when we’re fighting.” I sigh and lean back on my headboard. “Can I say what I need to now?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

“Alright.” I take a deep breath. “I accept your apology. What you said was shitty but I forgive you. I apologize too, though. You were trying to do something nice for me and I was just a total prick. It was incredibly rude. I’ll definitely try to not do that again either, you deserve so much better. I could’ve said no in a far better, nicer way. And...I should’ve told you the real reason I was saying no.”

“You can tell me,” he blurts out. “You can tell me anything.”

I wish I could reach through the phone and hug him. “I know, love, and I will.” I close my eyes, working up the nerve to say it. “I don’t want a party because I don’t like them, sure, but it’s also because...my birthday reminds me that I may not get any older. And, I’m scared I’m going to stay young forever while you keep aging.” I press a hand to my forehead. “I don’t want to think about watching you die, Simon,” I whisper painfully. I’m not sure I’d be able to say that in person, but saying it at all is a massive leap forward.

“O-Oh,” Simon stutters. “I-I see. Well, uh, we don’t know if you’ll-”

“Don’t worry, Snow, Fiona already put me through the ringer. She reminded me that we don’t if I’m going to live forever or not. But still, that fear doesn’t go away. I should’ve just told you, I know. But we both know I’m not great at dealing with my emotions.”

Simon chuckles. “Yeah, that’s very true. I’m sorry birthdays make you think of that. They should be fun and-”

He suddenly stops. There’s a long pause on the other end. I’m suddenly worried he’s been kidnapped or stabbed or something. “Snow? Simon, are you there?”

“Come over to my flat on Saturday,” he suddenly blurts out. “Around...six. Yeah, six is good.”

My brows furrows. “Saturday is my birthday...”

“Yeah, I know. Come over around six.”

“Snow, I don’t want a party-”

“It’s not a party, it’s-” He takes a deep breath. “Just come to my place around six on Saturday. And wear something nice. Not like, too nice, but nice.”

“Simon-”

“Please, Baz, just trust me.”

I know that if I really keep pushing he’ll back off. He knows that too. But dammit, I’m so weak. I do trust Simon, more than anyone. And even though I’m scared, I want to know what he’s planning. I have to trust he’s doing something for me this time.

“Okay,” I sigh. “If it’s a surprise party, I’m going to walk out and not talk to you for a week.”

Simon snorts, the sound crackling over the phone. “Yeah, I’d expect that. But don’t worry. It’s not a party.”

I sigh again, rubbing my tired eye. “Alright, I’m trusting you. Now, I’ve got to go get some breakfast. I’ll see you in a couple days?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. I love you.

Slowly, I put my other hand over the one holding the phone. And because I’m pathetic, I imagine I’m holding his hand. “I love you too, Simon. Bye for now.”

“Bye bye.”

I hear the line turn off, and I lower the phone. I can’t help but linger on my lockscreen for a moment. I never thought I would be the kind of person who had a couples photo as my phone wallpaper. But there it is, a picture of Snow and I, backs to the camera as we look out over the Eiffel Tower. He’s got his arm around my waist and mine is over his shoulders. We’re all snuggled up with our heads close together. I think I was trying to teach him how to pronounce Arc De Triomphe. (His French is atrocious.) Bunce took it for us like some photo ninja. I called her a stalker for it, but asked her to send me the picture all the same.

Merlin and Morgana, I love him. And I hope my trust is well placed this time.

———————————————-

I pull down my my sleeve. Even though I have no idea what’s going on, I want to look my best. Snow said wear something nice, so I’ve got a black button down and grey slacks. I abandoned the tie and blazer. He also said not to dress too nice. It’s an annoyingly fine line to walk. Well, I’m already at his door, so it’s too late to change now. Nothing to do but knock. So I do.

“Come in!” Snow calls out.

I sigh and take out my key. I hope Bunce isn’t home. She gets pissy when I use my key. Something about me not living there and acting like an intruder. It’s not like I’m crawling in through the window though, I have a key.

Slowly, I push the door open. The entire apartment is in low light. Snow must have all the dimmers set to minimum. And surprisingly, it’s not a complete mess. Everything looks neat and clean. Did Simon actually tidy up for me? I look at the table, which sits just to the left of the pristine living room. My eyes bug out. It’s clean too, but that’s not the strange part. There are two dark green placemats, a single rose in a vase, floating candles, and white napkins, both folded into pockets with silverware in them. It’s literally the fanciest looking thing I’ve seen come near to this flat. Holy shit. What is going on?

“Hi.”

I turn to Simon, who has suddenly manifested next to me. And he looks gorgeous. Well, he always look gorgeous, but he’s really making an effort right now. He’s wearing a green button button down tucked into blue jeans, along with his cleanest sneakers. His hair is still wild, but he knows I like it that way. His wings and tail are unspelled, both relaxed behind him. Though paired with his green shirt he does look like some sort of Christmas dragon. But a very handsome Christmas dragon.

“Hi,” I practically squeak. “What’s all this?”

“It’s your birthday.” He steps forward, gently taking my hand. “Happy birthday, Baz.”

I look from the table to him, then to the table, to him again. “You...you did all this for me?

He grins and nods. “Yeah. I realised that I may like parties, but that’s not you. This,” he gestures to the table and clean flat, “is more you. A nice birthday dinner for just the two of us.”

I stare at Simon. I’m at a complete loss for words. This man, this fucking man. I don’t know how he keeps surprising me, but he does. I adore him so much. And I soon realise I’ve been staring at him for a long while. He looks concerned, and steps forward to take my other hand.

“I know you’re scared about the whole immortality thing,” he says softly. “But you shouldn’t let it keep you from celebrating your birthday. We won’t know for sure for awhile. And if you are immortal, we’ll just, deal with it when we have to. For now we can not think about it.”

I chuckle, squeezing his hands. “That’s still your solution, hm?”

He shrugs, making his wings flap a bit. “Yeah, and it works.” He steps even closer, and I’m instantly lost in his pretty eyes. “Immortal or not though, I’m still here, Baz. You’re not losing me anytime soon. So let me give you a nice birthday. I want celebrate you being, y’know, born and shit, because I’m really glad you’re here.”

Crowley, Merlin, and Morgana, why must he be so incredible? I let go of his hands, but only so I can grab his cheeks and kiss him hard. Simon immediately melts into it. He grips my forearms and moves his mouth with equal vigour. I try to push all my feelings through my lips. My gratitude, my care, my undying love, everything. And it sort of feel like he’s doing the same.

We pull apart, foreheads still together. “I love you,” I whisper, like it’s some secret. It’s not a secret though. I would shout it to the entire world if I could.

He smiles and pulls me closer. “I love you, too,” he replies. “Want to eat some birthday dinner?”

I pull back, still grinning with slightly swollen lips. “Please. I’m famished.”

“Then right this way.” He gestures grand to the table. I walk to it, but Simon gets ahead of me though so he can pull out a chair

“What a gentleman,” I drawl as I sit down.

“Damn right.” He runs around to the kitchen. “Now, let me get the food.”

I can see him racing around through the tiny window. “What is for dinner, Snow?”

He peeks through to flash me a grin. “It’s your favourite, actually. Chicken cordon bleu, asparagus, and New York cheesecake.”

I perk up immensely. That is my favourite meal. I’m glad Snow remembers. “Wonderful. Where did you order it all from?”

“I, uh, actually made it myself...” Oh no. I inhale sharply, and Simon must hear it. He looks through the window again with a little smile. “Wipe that worried look off your face, Basilton, I’m not going to give you food poisoning.”

“Again?”

He giggles. “No, not again. I spent a whole day figuring it out. Penny taste tested all my attempts and she was very harsh. I told her not to let me get away with it being half assed. It took about six tries, but she said this last try was perfect. So I hope you like it all.

My worries melt away. I lean my cheek on my palm. “Alright. I trust you. Don’t make me regret it. I would rather not spend my birthday over the toilet.”

“Now that would be a shit present,” Snow called from the kitchen.

I don’t have to wait much longer. Soon enough, he comes swanning out of the kitchen with two steaming plates and puts them down. My eyes go wide. It actually looks good. There’s perfectly shaped chicken breasts with even bread crumbs and three seasoned asparagus stalks arranged artfully. Simon races back into the kitchen, then comes back with a bottle of wine. He pours it like some sommelier, twisting off the pour. (I bet he watched YouTube videos that told him to do that. Dork.) (I love him so much.) I examine the label when he puts the bottle down.

“Crowley,” I gasp, “this is some very expensive alcohol, Snow.”

Simon picks his glass, looking like the cat who’s caught the canary. “I know. A bunch of chef’s blogs recommended it. So I decided to shell out a bit of my gold.” He pushes his glass towards me. “Cheers, to you turning 20.”

I smile softly, reach out to touch his free hand on the table, and tap our glasses together. “Cheers.”

So we have dinner. The meal is actually delicious. Snow did a very good job. The chicken’s cheese melts in my mouth, the asparagus has perfect seasoning, and the wine is just incredible. I tell Simon as such, and he looks extremely proud. Other than the actual food though, it feels like a pretty normal meal for us. We chat about school, the news, funny things we’ve seen today. It’s so typical I nearly forget that it’s supposed to be my birthday. That is, until after a very nice slice of cheesecake, when Snow pulls out a gift bag.

“Simon,” I say nervously, “you didn’t have to-”

“But I already did. So,” he pushes the bag closer, “open it.”

I sigh and take the bag. There’s a black envelope at the top. I open it with only slightly shaky fingers. I’m not scared of kind of card Simon got, not at all. But when I open it, I realise I have nothing to fear at all. I fix Snow with a deadpan look.

“Seriously?” I ask

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he chirps, knowing exactly what I’m talking about.

I shake my head as I open the Nosferatu birthday card. “You’re ridiculous.”

In type font, the inside of the card reads, “I hope your birthday doesn’t BITE.” Snow is so lucky I love him. But I read further, and there’s something else, written in Snow’s chicken scratch handwriting.

To my favourite vampire, You’re the centre of my universe too. Always will be. Happy birthday. Love, Snow

I reach out and grab his hand. He weaves our fingers together and squeezes my palm. “Thank you,” I say softly.

He squeezes my hand again. “Open the present, then thank me.”

I carefully pull out the tissue paper. There’s quite a lot of it. Finally, I reach the bottom, and slowly lift the present out. It’s...a cork board. After a moment of confusion I turn it around. My breath suddenly goes short. Holy mother of Merlin. It’s fucking gorgeous.

Along the top and bottom are a total of six polaroid pictures, all pinned on to look like they’re hanging on strings. I recognize them. Simon has this silly instant camera and he uses it far too much. I’d find it annoying if I didn’t love the photos. He took all of these. There’s me on the couch with a book propped up on my knees; Simon kissing my cheek as I laugh at how ridiculous he is; Us sitting together at a cafe in Paris; Me with a Starbucks cup, glaring because his camera is annoying but smiling because he’s adorable; A group selfie of Simon, Bunce, Micah, and I; There’s even one of me sleeping in his bed. I flick my eyes up to him.

“Taking photos while I sleep?” I ask sarcastically. “Stalker.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, you look angelic when you sleep so I couldn’t resist.”

That makes my cheeks go far redder than they should. I look back down at the photos. Well, he has a point. I do look very calm. I’m happy in all these photos though. It’s in different ways, but always happy with Simon. At the centre of all these beautiful memories, Simon has placed sparkly black stickers that read “Happy 20th Baz.” Fuck, I’m about to cry. Over some ridiculous, amazing handmade birthday gift my ridiculous, amazing boyfriend made for me. I sniffle slightly. Simon squeezes my hand.

“May I thank you now?” I say softly.

“I mean, you can if you want,” he chuckles.

I look him in his beautiful plain blue eyes, so he knows how serious I am, how grateful I am. For tonight and everything else in our relationship. “Thank you, Simon. It’s lovely.”

He looks back with the same unwavering gaze. “You’re very welcome. Happy birthday.”

I run my thumb over the smooth wooden frame. “It certainly is. Though,” I lift an eyebrow, “if you plan on keep celebrating my birthdays, Snow, you’ve set a pretty high bar for yourself starting out.”

Snow lets out a quiet chuckle. He usually laughs louder, but we’re being quiet right now. Everything about tonight has been quiet. His hand moves further up my arm. “Don’t worry, love, I can do it. Anything for you.”

And by Merlin’s beard, I believe him.

———————————————-

We’re laying in his bed now, bodies tangled together, his tail wrapped snugly around my ankle, both of us under his wing. He’s blocking the world so it’s just the two of us. Just how I like it. I’m dressed in Simon’s university sweatshirt and trackies. He’s in my silk pyjama bottoms with no shirt at all. I trace the freckles and moles that decorate his chest. It’s one of my favourite activities, drawing constellations out of his beautiful body. With every new pattern I find, he hums quietly. I make sure to memorise that sound. I want to, maybe even need to, remember it for every day of my possibly incredibly long life. It’ll keep me sane whenever I get too low. It’ll keep me happy.

Simon Snow is a constantly renewing marvelous miracle. I love him with every single molecule in my semi-dead body. So immortal or not, it doesn’t matter, I’ll celebrate all the damn birthdays I can with him.

———————————————-

AN: Apeirophobia: The fear of inifinity and/or living forever. The actual fear doesn't fully fit with Baz's worries, but necrophobia (the fear of people dying) sounds like a fear of zombies haha.

Awwwww they're so in love it makes you sick lol. Tbh I think Simon and Baz would be the kind of couple that's chill in public but super mushy in private. Lots of soft words and "I love you's" :) Hope you guys liked that. I wanted to show Simon and Baz fighting like a normal couple but making up well too. And I wanted explore Baz's fear about immortality. I feel like that fear would show up more around his birthday. But Simon's there to make sure he doesn't shut happiness out because he's scared <3 So yeah, hope you liked that :)

I'm working on the next request fic, and I'll be updating Black Swan tomorrow. It's gonna be a super fluffy chapter with some art so feel free to check it out. Have a happy Baz birthday everyone! :D

#carry on #snowbaz #baz birthday 2019 #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #fiona pitch #fluff #angst #birthday fic #mysnowbazfic

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caelindadewfall · 6 years

Text

New Beginnings - A Sound Investment

“I’m sick of havin’ to choose between the less shitty option of two shitty choices!”

She’d asked for the meeting days ago, and thanks to the weather it had been delayed. She couldn’t be too angry, not everyone was used to the frigid cold of winter like she was. She’d suffered the frostbitten peaks of Kun-Lai, this was nothing to her. Leave hypothermia to the home-bound elves.

She’d anticipated that her partner’s arrival would be late, but not by three days. She hated being kept waiting, it only made her more aware of the fact that she’d run her cider reserves dry. She was down to the ale now, and soon to the beer. If she was forced to drink wine, well, she just might do something violently drastic. And that was to say nothing about the pitiful lack of a proper meal.

She sees her wagon approaching from the north. It’s burdened by snow and ice, and the hawkstrider pulling it along looked very displeased about the whole affair. She’ll have to keep away from the creature, they already all hated her enough.

She stands up and waves her arms to get her attention. The snow falls off her cloak in a pile up to her calves. She’s been sitting on the camp outskirts for a while. Immediately, the hawkstrider is pulled towards her direction by the driver. It’s a swift stop a mere two feet in front of her face. The hawkstrider squawks unhappily, clearly its mood is dampened by the cold. It bristles its feathers with one look at Caelinda. She responds in kind, sticking out her tongue. She hated them just as much.

The driver steps down from his perch and gives Caelinda a nod as he makes for the wagon door. “Ms. Dewfall,” He says.

“Erdwin,” Caelinda nods. “How’s her mood?”

“Very unhappy,” He replies, his hand settling on the door handle. He leans over a bit and whispers, “Like the bird.”

Caelinda stifles her laugh, she doesn’t want to offend her partner too much today.

Erdwin slowly opens the door and bows deeply as he takes a step back. His frost covered coat slings a bit of snow onto the ground as he does so, but Caelinda doesn’t comment.

“We have arrived, my lady.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Erdwin, I have eyes,” Hisses the compartment’s only occupant. She appears into the open slowly, one leg first with elegance onto the step, then a hand to Erdwin, and finally she steps free from her wagon with a noblewoman’s poise that would take years to master. Her winter coat and clearly expensive fur hat paint her importance for all to see, and her perfect appearance despite the stress of war time gives an indication of her powerful position. And the scowl tells Caelinda all she needs to hear before she even says it. “You have a lot of nerve calling me out to this blood soaked dung heap, Dewfall!”

Caelinda tips the simple, wide-brim hat she’d grown accustom to wearing in this time of ice and snow. “Lady Stonelily, how nice to see you freezin’ your ass off like the rest of us on this fine day. I hope your trip wasn’t too harsh what with those plush seats and warm blankets.”

“You impertinent-” The noblewoman starts, but Caelinda doesn’t let her get too far.

“Yes, yes, impertinent commoner, stain on your boot, dirt beneath your finger nails.” She mimes a speaking mouth with her hand. “Blah, blah, blah, can we move on before your toes turn blue and you try and blame the weather on me? Do you have what I asked for?”

Lady Stonelily seems taken aback by her abruptness. Of course, Caelinda Dewfall had always been obnoxious and disrespectful, but hardly ever so callous in the years that the two had known one another. She wasn’t sure whether she should be upset, offended, or concerned. She decided to go with all three.

With a snap of her fingers and a loud noise of indignation, Erdwin places two rolled and sealed scrolls in her hand which she holds up before Caelinda’s eyes. That immediately grabs the orange haired monk’s attention.

Lady Stonelily snorts derisively, “Yes, I have them. Of course, both are still outside of your purview, Dewfall. Honestly, I don’t know why you had me bother gathering these, a simple elf like yourself could never make use of them. But here they are.”

“Why are there two?” Caelinda asks.

“Because you never specified how many you wanted nor what specifically you were looking for between the grouping I had come up with.”

Caelinda folds her arms and looks at Erdwin, who only shrugs. The monk rolls her eyes. “Tell me about them.”

“Must you be such a horrendous host?” Lady Stonelily sneers. She grips the two scrolls tightly in her well manicured hand. “I went through all of this trouble to fulfill your request and you cannot even muster a proper word of thanks. You do yourself no credit.”

Caelinda just glares daggers at her, and the noblewoman seems to get the message despite her own annoyance. With another snort she taps the first scroll with her free hand.

“An island, northwest a few miles from Sunstrider Isle. Virtually uninhabited for the last century. Primarily a forested region once meant for development by a Lord who died during Arthas’ invasion. His family seems more than happy to sell it off to the highest bidder. It seems like a sound investment.”

Caelinda raises a singular eyebrow. She’s unconvinced, it sounds like the opposite to her. An island creates more problems than it solves despite how useful isolation might be. The amount of infrastructure they’d need to create would be immense, and transportation would be damn near impossible even when this invasion was over.

“And the other?” Caelinda waves her hand for the noblewoman to continue.

“Western coast. Family died out during the invasion, the land is up for sale. It seems far enough away from the humdrum to be useful for your needs, whatever they may be.”

“Far enough away from you, you mean?”

Lady Stonelily grins, “Yes, exactly. It also seems to be quite accessible and easily defensible, though that hardly matters when the full might of the scourge is knocking on your gates.”

Caelinda only grunts in agreement.

The sensibility of the second option is apparent, she hardly even needs to think about it. Land routes and access to sea routes would be paramount to the venture. All she needed now was...

“Set up the second deal,” She orders.

Lady Stonelily turns as white as the snow. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter,” Caelinda says. She turns on her heel and makes to head back to camp. “Set up the deal. The moment the Alliance are thrown out of Quel’thalas I want the deed on my desk. I’ll have someone bring you the sum you’ll need. After that, you’re free from our arrangement.”

Lady Stonelily splutters, absolutely stunned by the abruptness shown by the commoner. How dare she turn her back on nobility, the nerve of it all! Her grip turns vice-like on the contracts in her hand. Erdwin, ever the faithful steward, looks up at her in surprise. So rare is it to see the Lady of Stonelily so riled up, he knew that the winter storm held no fury compared to his lady’s wrath. Instinctively, he takes a step back.

The noblewoman stamps her foot down. “You think you can order me around willy nilly, girl? Were it not for me, you would be without any sort of backing. Your expenses would go through the roof, your business would crumble, and you’d be right back where you started.” She sucks in a quick, angry breath. “You contemptuous little insect, how dare you talk to me in such a manner. I’ll return you to the gutter you crawled out of!”

Caelinda stops in her tracks. Slowly, she turns back around. For the first time, Lady Stonelily gets a proper look at the young woman.

Her eyes are tired, ringed by regrets and exhaustion. Her shoulders hang down, her posture sagging. There’s no smile, no laughter. Her eyes are colder than the winter air. And even the anger she musters up when she faces the noblewoman seems more forced than anything else.

Caelinda marches up to her and snatches the scrolls from her hand. Waving them in front of the noblewoman’s face, she lets loose that wild torrent of anger.

“You shut your damn mouth,” She breathes. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead and your entire family would have disowned you. I’ve kept your secret for years now, and I could have made a lot more gold bankin’ on turnin’ you over to your kin. If they knew what I knew you’d be cast out. You won’t be returnin’ me to anywhere, I’ll be sendin’ you home with a generous gift.”

She shoves the contracts into Lady Stonelily’s chest. “So let me make my terms clear again. You set up the deal, I’ll send you the funds, and then you stay the fuck out of my way for the rest of our lives or I’ll tell everyone just how faithful you are to the Stonelily name. Got it?” She doesn’t give her a chance to respond. “Good!”

Lady Stonelily stands there, clutching her chest, absolutely flabbergasted. Never in her life has anyone dared speak to her this way, not even in her worst of times. Even Caelinda had done her the courtesy of at least being polite before today. And the worst part was that this commoner was right, she had no leg to stand on in the argument. She’d do as she was told, she had to if she was to keep her reputation, and she’d appreciate being rid of this five year thorn in her side. Still, this was troubling.

Caelinda steps away again, stomping through the snow back towards camp. But again, Lady Stonelily calls out to her to stop.

“Why?” She asks. “Why do you want this so badly? In all the years we have worked together you have never wanted anything this desperately. What is so special about this parcel of land that you absolutely must have it? What could you possibly need it for?”

Caelinda stops, but she doesn’t seem angry. Rather, she seems almost relieved by the question. And in truth, that same question had burned inside of her for hours beyond counting.

“Because I’m tired,” Caelinda replies without turning about. “I’m sick and tired of havin’ to choose between the less shitty of two shitty choices. I’m exhausted by it all. This war, you upper crusts, the lack of empathy almost anyone seems to have anymore. It’s made me so tired.”

She clenches her fists. “It’s about time I did somethin’ about it. Instead of complainin’, instead of fightin’ back in some childish way, it’s time I made a proper go at fixin’ the problem instead. And that land, that’s the start.”

“The start of what?”

Caelinda takes in a breath and exhales slowly. The warm steam floating away and dissipating into nothing after a moment.

“The start of a new beginnin’. The genesis of a new land, a place of freedom and hope. No more nobles, no more war, no more hatred. Just a place where people can come and live freely. A home like the one I was raised in. I’m goin’ to offer it to this world of lost souls and see who comes to take it up.”

Caelinda relaxes and without further hesitation she presses on back to camp, leaving a stunned Lady Stonelily and her steward in the snow.

“I’m sure you’ll hear about it one day, Triss,” She calls back. “Just don’t expect for it to ever be open to you. I don’t like you very much.”

#caelinda #Caelinda Dewfall #the sunguard #new beginnings

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lejojotrash · 7 years

Note

Wow I'm so happy I can send another! Thank you! May this please be an imagine if it isn't too much to ask for another la squadra members imagine set? I just worry because of how much writing is involved in a set it may be daunting in your ask box. The members of La squadra being visibly stressed or upset and their shy fem member approaches them with a gift like chocolates or something they like because she wants her teammates to feel happy too and she cares about them. Thanks if you do this!

Heyyyy. I’m sorry the request took so long… and I didn’t write all of the members, I’m like feeling lowky sick rn. If you want the other three written, you can request it again if you want. I’m so extremely sorry!

Ghiaccio

Anger and stress are the two emotions present on Ghiaccio’s face constantly (maybe add constipation in the mix as well). However were times where his mood can get from worse to even more worse. This was one of those times.

The only two members at the base were you and Ghiaccio, frankly because the other La Squadra members can hardly handle him at his worse, and now that Ghiaccio was in one of his moods, nobody was gonna put up with that shitty attitude of his (Risotto included).

You just got back to the base from a day of grocery shopping, even buying something that you hoped that it would cheer him up because you’d like to think you were a member that he tolerated. Ghiaccio rarely insults you, even converses with you on some occasions after a year of you being on the squad, so that’s how you came to the conclusion.

You held in your hand, a blueberry popsicle, right in front of Ghiaccio’s room. Hopefully he liked blueberry. You knew he liked popsicles because he ate the frozen snack most of the time, even in the winter, and he probably likes blueberry because… Well… It was blue.

The only thing preventing you from knocking on the door and giving it to him (as well as keeping the popsicle from melting) was the extremely cold temperature that was literally seeping through the door. You could feel the cold air from a mile away.

You took a deep breath in and out, trying to calm yourself down because you were only giving him a popsicle, nothing important. Just a popsicle. You raised a fist to knock on the door and… Everything was happening quickly. Too quickly for you to process. Ghiaccio opened the door, and then you knocked on his chest, and your faced morphed into extreme discomfort and heat began to rush to your face. You pulled your hand away as if you were burned, and began to gesticulate wildly, trying to bs your way out of this.

You began to pray to every divine deity you knew: God, the Buddha, anything and everything.

“Oh my god- I’m so sorry- I didn’t know that you were going to open the door and-”

“What do you want?” Ghiaccio interrupted you, getting straight to the point. It didn’t look like he was that irritated but more like the calm before the storm kind of way.

“I-You-Popsicle-It’s blueberry-” You stammered your famous last words as you pointed wildly to Ghiaccio and the popsicle in your hand. The temperature dropped a couple more degrees, Ghiaccio’s dark eyes began to narrow behind his obnoxiously bright, red frames. You made a little noise of frustration, and just handed him the popsicle, and began to walk hastily away from him, so you didn’t get to hear a word of complaint come out of his mouth about how he hated blueberry or something.

Ghiaccio stared at your retreating back for a few moments, and then observed the treat you gave to him. He tore off the wrapper, and took a bit out of the popsicle, relishing in coolness and sweet flavor. His facial expression softened for a millisecond, and then he went back into his room, a bit less pissed off than before.

Pesci & Prosciutto

Prosciutto gritted his teeth as he lit yet another cigarette. He lost count of how many he smoked, but his office now currently smelt like Las Vegas and he was out of cigars. He muttered a few curses under his breath as he ran a hand through his usually neat hair.

Prosciutto heard a couple of soft knocks at the door. He crushed the cigar in his hand, accidentally burning himself.

“Fuck!” Even more frustration. Whoever was at the door was about to face the wraith of him. “What?!”

“I-It’s me…” Prosciutto barely heard your soft voice through the door. He sighed. You were one of the more tolerable members in the squad, shy and recluse, but you still got stuff done.

“Come in,” He forced himself to calm down. Prosciutto didn’t want to lash out on you. You slowly open the door, peeking in through the crack that you made, double checking if it was really okay to enter Prosciutto’s room, and then soon fully opening the door. You lightly coughed as you inhaled the fumes created by Prosciutto’s chain smoking, and making a light frown. “Did you need something?” You looked downwards, as you held up a pack of cigars, and tossed it towards him. Prosciutto caught it with ease.

“…I heard what happened,” You muttered. He scoffed. Who hadn’t heard? Pesci’s second failed mission on his own. His protege. Pesci’s failure might as well be his own because it reflected on Prosciutto too. “You should talk to him…”

“And say what?” He snapped, making you flinch. “There’s nothing to say to him. He failed a mission, and that’s that! I can’t baby him like he’s some child! We’re grown men! We’re assassins!”

“But he’s different. Pesci is different…” Prosciutto knows that. “He’s much more insecure than all of us… I don’t think he’s taking this failure well. He needs encourage, confidence… From someone he looks up to.” He knows that.

“Pesci can’t keep relying on me… What happens if I’m gone… when I’m gone? He needs to learn how to become independent.”

“Just throwing him on the field alone, like trying to teach a child how to swim in the pool by throwing him in, is unwise,” Your voice was becoming a bit louder. Prosciutto sighed, lighting another cigar.

“Just leave,” he didn’t want to deal with this right now, even though you were right about it. You frowned deeply, looking downwards.

“Don’t smoke too much…” You muttered and exited the room, leaving Prosciutto alone with his thoughts.

You traversed over to Pesci’s room next, concerned for his well being, since he hasn’t come out of his room since the failed mission. You lightly knocked on the door, much like how you lightly knocked on Prosciutto’s door. No response. Pesci was probably too scared to face any of the members, it’s not a surprise, everyone was a dick in your squad.

“Pesci?” You called out. You could hear shifting on the other side of the door.

“W-What?” Pesci’s voice was small and muffled, and took that as a sign to enter the room. Pesci’s body was buried under his blankets and comforter, not even peeking to look at you. The room was dark, not a shred of light in it, besides the natural sunlight coming in through the door you opened.

“Hey…” You greeted, your grin weak and awkward. “I’m… I’m sorry about what happened…” Pesci’s body shifted more under the sheets.

“… It’s not like it was your fault…” He grumbled, voice cracking near the end of his sentence. “It’s mine…”

“It happens to the best of us, Pesci,” You walked slowly, cautiously into the room, careful you didn’t step on things that belonged to him. “We’ve all failed on missions, Pesci. Me, Ghiaccio, Prosciutto, even Capo.”

“…But you didn’t ever hesitate, did you? I did. I hesitated when I saw the target, but I just… I just stopped. I don’t know…” Pesci’s voice wavered. “Does big bro hate me?”

“No… Never. He’s just worried.” And disappointed and frustrated, but you didn’t add that. You cracked a smile. “There was a time where I failed a mission back when I was a new member, it was… Hilarious.” More like embarrassing. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Um…” Pesci hesitated, but peeked out of the blankets for curiosity’s sake. “If you want…” You smiled fully at him, and squatted on his full, chatting softly to him about your embarrassing tale of failing a mission in the darkness of his room and the light barely peeking in.

Formaggio

Any public, crowded places make you… Uncomfortable. So why and how were you in a run down bar with Formaggio, drunk out of his mind, trying to flirt with anything in his sight (including a barstool).

It all started with the build up of emotions Formaggio felt with the members of La Squadra poking fun at his stand, constantly. Formaggio was stressed out and frustrated, but always hid it with a smirk and returned a quip back to whatever member was mocking Little Feet. You felt bad for the poor guy, so in order to cheer up him, you offered to take him for drinks… On you.

Needless to say, one shot turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into four, and so on and so forth. It was quite… Taxing on your poor wallet. You barely get paid enough as it was as an assassin, but as long as Formaggio had his fun.

But seeing as his current drunken state signified that he was having way too much fun hitting on that barstool, you decided that enough was enough.

“Um… Formaggio?” You approached him carefully on the side, tapping on his shoulder lightly. He was staring lustfully at the chair, and without looking he pressed his index finger to your lip, sloppily.

“Shhhhhh…” He slurred. You blushed heavily. “Trying to do something here…” Formaggio turned his head to look at you, his eyes widening as he did so. “Well… Hello there…”

“Um… Hi?” You greeted with a quirked brow, staring in suspicion at your drunk team mate.

“I’ve never… I’ve never seen…” Formaggio hiccuped. “Anyone as beautiful as you… What’s-” another hiccup. “-your name?”

“Formaggio… It’s me…”

“Formaggio?” The drunk man chuckled. “Ha. Your name means ‘cheese’. That’s so stupid.” You stared blankly at him. “Hey wait… That’s my name!” Another laugh coming from him. “That’s a nice name…”

“Sure…” You chuckled weakly. “But hey… It’s getting late… We should, uh, go home?” Formaggio smirked, slinging an arm around your shoulder (he almost hit your face as he did so).

“Your place or mine?”

“Um… The base… HQ… Headquarters,” You corrected as you slowly start to guide him to the door, Formaggio was quite heavy, leaning against you as he stumbled around.

“Ooohhhhhh,” He responded in understanding. His face scrunched up. “We have a base?”

“Yes… We live there…” You huffed as you tired to catch a breath. Formaggio was too heavy. Maybe going to the bar was a bad idea if he was going to be this drunk. Formaggio hummed as his head lolled around, looking everywhere and taking in the sights around him like it was his first time seeing it. Formaggio placed his head on your shoulder, nuzzling in the crook of your neck, making you slightly stiffen.

“Thanks…” He muttered, strangely serious, but not sober because you could still hear his slurred speech, as you felt his warm breath on your neck. You shivered in response and blushed harshly.

“…It’s no problem…” You squeaked out of embarrassment. “I like spending time with you…” Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up.

“Me too… You’re like… The only one who doesn’t make fun of Little Feet…”

“Yeah…”

“We should-” a hiccup “-do this again.”

“I’d rather not carry you home drunk again…”

#Jjba #jjba imagine #proscuitto #Pesci #ghiaccio #Formaggio

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traveling-madness · 7 years

Text

Gwenvid part 2/2

(1/2)

23. - How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

In public or alone? David is a hugger either way but kissing/teasing/flirting around other people, (or gosh forbid around THE KIDS) is inappropriate. Gwen is less scandalized by it, but sometimes pda can make her nervous or uncomfortable depending on the day. In private, especially during the early stages of the relationship, they both blushed a lot whenever any flirting kissing or cuddling was concerned, now they’re more comfortable with each other but Gwen still likes to say less... appropriate things sometimes, just to bring his blush back. David is more frequently the comforter, but if he needs it Gwen will always step in, even though she doesn’t always know what to do.

24. - Any doubts about the relationship?

Mostly on Gwens part, she’s convinced she isn’t good enough or happy enough or energetic enough, and even though she tries not to show it David still ends up reassuring her quite a bit. He’d never admit it, not even to himself, but sometimes he worries he’ll push her too hard or too far when he’s just trying to make her happy.

25. - How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

A lot of time over the summer, When they aren’t at work together David sends “I miss you <3″ texts every few hours. Gwen says “Miss U 2″ and he calls asking if the band broke up. Of the two of them, David will almost always be an open book, the only time he holds things in is when he thinks what he has to say will hurt Gwen. Gwen is still unlearning the habit of pretending she’s ok around him, He’s told her that isn’t healthy, but the fucker is so positive she feels like an eternal storm cloud in comparison and figures he’ll get sick of her.

26. - How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

David has a penpal in almost every state and at least 6 countries. He traveled a lot in college and made friends anywhere and everywhere. All of them know about Gwen. Every. Single. One. Gwen has a handful of close friends and she talks about him when significant others come up. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about him, she just doesnt want to be THAT girl who never shuts up about her boyfriend.

27. - Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

My brain says its not realistic but my heart says they adopt Max and live in a cabin in the woods. Still gettin cable and wifi out there though.

28. - What are their vacations like?

Another thing they have to take turns picking. They take Max to Universal Orlando or Disney at least once though.

29. - How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

David is better in emergencies, he’s definitely the one to pick if you’re stranded in the wilderness. He’ll cry for an hour or so if injured, but once Gwen patches him up he’ll pretend it never happened. He almost NEVER gets sick and Gwen thinks it’s terrifying. Gwens approach to sickness or injury is to put on a bandaid and sleep it off. Gwen grew up without health insurance and David thinks THAT’S terrifying.

30. - Could they manage a long distance relationship?

They do, by about 8-10 hours when it’s not summer.

31. - Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

Gwen got him hooked on romance novels and indyfolk music, David introduced her to farmers markets and houseplants.

32. - Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

The only rule they break is dating a coworker. And honestly? does that matter if your boss is in jail? Sometimes I wonder if they’d get questioned (potentially at gunpoint) about Campbell’s activities and how much they know.

33. - What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

David either hand-makes gifts or spends hours picking between the most perfect things. Gwen stresses for days about what to get him but really she could make some shitty macaroni art for him and he’d cry. David gets or makes her little things even when there’s no occasion and then she feels bad for not getting him anything.

34. - Do they have any pets?

David want’s a dog, Gwen is worried about taking care of the dog. David gets a golden retriever lab mix from the local humane society. Gwen fucking loves the dog. she would kill a man for this dog.

35. - Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

The best generally, they’re really well balanced.

36. - What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Strength is working together and keeping each other on track. Weakness is not always understanding each others wants and needs because they’re so different.

37. - How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

Gwen sacrifices sleeping till 2pm and staying inside watching netflix on all her days off. David sacrifices going out on days she really needs to be lowkey, and also sometimes the hot water because she takes long showers. He wouldn’t stop working with kids though, and once she found a steady job she wouldn’t... start. working with kids.

38. - What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

LMAOO Nah they’re pretty damn vanilla. Some experimentation with pegging sure. And David has “Accidentally” Tied himself to the bed frame while “practicing knots” at the convenient time she’d be getting home from work.

39. - Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love?

The best way to put it is the relationship initiated itself. David kissed her first but it was on the cheek, and he said he was sorry because he didn’t ask and that was very ungentlemanly of him. Gwens response was to very, very awkardly tell him to “Do it again but at least the fucking right way this time. That’ll be gentlemanly or whatever.” He knew he loved her since long before they were dating. She knew since a week into the relationship. He said it first, and she didn’t believe him.

40.- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

David has a spot in the woods he goes to think or work on a project or even sometimes let off steam on the rare occasion he really needs to. Gwen is the first person he’s brought there.

41. - Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

David doesn’t drink. Gwen used to drink but also used to get horrible migraines from most grain alcohols and isn’t the biggest fan. She’ll have the occasional glass of wine or sometimes a rum and coke (the Fave™) but that’s about it, especially since they’ve been together, alcohol makes him a little uncomfortable.

42. - Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

Absolutely, Gwen couldn’t take that level of positivity from anyone else, and David always figured he’d have a 100% dry and sober kitchen.

43. - Do they talk often? What about?

Yes, mostly about their days and plans for the upcoming week, in the summer about work or sometimes the kids,occasionally the future.

44. - Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?

Yes, David especially. Gwen is still working on not bottling things up from him though.

45. - Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?

David wants to get married, have at least one kid, or adopt, he isn’t picky, and he’s willing to start with a dog. Gwen is nervous but really wants this to work out, she regrets not liking kids.

#Gwenvid #non-movie bables

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