#Table Top Winder

[writtenbyan-aries]

Matt jealous over a colleague/classmate from college, like actually showing how upset he is over it, being moody and whatnot, mean even, and all that could only lead to rough make up sex. Maybe before jumping to his moody state he was already a bit insecure and anxious and this was just the straw that broke the camels back.

∶ Summary: anon sums it up

∶ Warnings: smut, jealous!Matt, kissing, rough unprotected sex, fluffy filth

∶ Word Count: 4.2k

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The sound of your professor blabbing could put you to sleep.

You weren’t feeling class today, at all. You were kicking your own ass for not skipping like you originally wanted to.

You blink, snapping yourself from your thoughts, “Shit.” You lean over to Matt, “What did he say?”

“We’re having a test on this next Thursday.”

“Thursday?” You ask and he nods, “Yeah, are you okay? You look exhausted.” He raises his fingers from the table, “I don’t mean in a bad way, you just-“

“No, I am.” You laugh quietly, “I was up redoing my notes for Greenly’s class because I spilt my coffee all over them.” You let out a sigh, “I only wrote down what I could read, and since he doesn’t like computers in his classroom for whatever fucking reason, I’m screwed.”

Matt chuckles, “I can let you borrow mine, if you want?”

You tilt your head, “Oh yes, please. That would be awesome. Thank you.” You reach up, gently squeezing his shoulder as you turn to face forward again.

A few minutes later, Matt slides a dark blue notebook over to you. You look down at it, then over at him with a smile, “Thank you.”

He gives you a nod, “Welcome.”

A little bit later, the professor claps his hands together, “So for this semester’s final, I have decided that I’m going to have you guys do a project.”

A unified groan echoes from all the students and he laughs, “I know, I know. But it’s going to be a PowerPoint. On any of the topics we discussed over the last few weeks, and you guys can have a partner.”

“At least we don’t have to do it all alone, you know.” Matt mumbles and you nod, “Yeah, right?”

“Partners need to be picked and sent to me by five p.m tomorrow.���

An instant message pops up in the bottom right corner of your computer screen, Nash Trevors: I already sent a message to Winder that we’re partners, hope that’s cool with you.

You lean forward, typing on the keys, Y/n Y/l/n: As long as you promise to actually do something this time.

“So, y/n.” Matt turns towards you, “Do you have a partner yet? Or, one in mind?” He pushes up his glasses as you turn towards him, closing your laptop, “Yeah, Nash already sent in that I’m his partner.”

“He didn’t even ask you?” Matt furrows his brows, “He shouldn’t have just made that choice for you, he never does anything himself. It’s always the person that’s stuck with him.”

You shrug, “It’s fine, I like doing PowerPoints, so it’s not really a loss, I guess.”

Matt doesn’t say anything right away, he just packs up his lap top, “That’s still not fair to you.” He stands up, letting out a sigh, “Good luck.”

You watch as he walks away before turning around. You grab his notebook that he left and stack it on top of your books.

“Hey partner.” Nash smirks as he stands down in front of you, “Do you have a topic in mind?”

“Do you?” You glance up at him and he shrugs, “Maybe we can figure that one out over dinner?”

You scoff, “This isn’t a ploy for you to get into my pants, Nash. I’m not just some girl who will fall and kiss the ground you walk on.” You tuck your laptop into its case and he laughs, “Oh come on, that’s not why I picked you as my partner. You’re smart and organized.”

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes and stand up, “Meet me at the cafe in two hours and we can start. I need to rewrite my notes first.”

“Cafe. Two hours. You got it.” He gives you a thumbs up and you laugh, shaking your head as you walk away.

As you make your way out of the classroom, all you can think about is why Matt didn’t wait for you like he usually does, and why he was acting kind of weird.

Was he mad that I already had a partner, you think, did he not like Nash?

You bump into someone as you’re lost in your thoughts, “Sorry, I-“ you point, “Nick, hey. Have you seen your brother?”

“Which one?” He laughs, “Chris is still sleeping, and Matt was on his way back to the dorm I think. He didn’t say much, actually, he didn’t say anything at all.”

“Oh, okay.” You nod and Nick tilts his head, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I was just going to tell him that I’ll have his notes back to him in an hour or so. He kinda ran out of class a lot faster than usual. I’ll just text him.”

He nods, “Okay, are those notes for Greenly?”

“How’d you know?” You laugh, and Nick rolls his eyes, “Please, he’s the only teacher on campus that hates technology.”

“He is a weird one.” You smile, “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” He nods and you walk away, making your way to the cafe.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

You let out a sigh, flexing your hand after dropping your pen onto your notebook. You were so used to typing, taking actual notes sucked even worse than usual.

You lean over, tapping your phone to see if Matt had answered, but still no word from him.

Something was off about earlier.

The bells on the door sound loudly as the door is flung open. You’re greeted with a cheesy smile of Nash, who makes his way over to you, “Look at that, on time.”

“Barely.” You mumble, closing the notebook in front of you. Nash reaches over, “M. Sturniolo.” He laughs as he shakes his head, “What are you doing with this nerd’s notebook.”

You snatch the notebook from his hands, “Don’t call him that. Matt is actually really smart.”

“What, do you have some sort of soft spots for the dorky ones? I thought I knew you better than that, y/l/n.”

“Are you here to guess what I’m in to, or work on the final?” You stare at him, letting out a sigh, “Actually, don’t answer that. Let’s just work on this stupid thing.”

He laughs, pulling his laptop from his backpack, “Can you do that shared thing? Where I can see what you do on the PowerPoint on my screen and what I do on yours?”

“Yeah. Give me a second.” You click a few times, tap the keys and point to his laptop, “I sent it to you, just click on it and you should be good.”

Your eyes scan down over your list of topics scribbled down on the paper beside your computer, “We can do the artful mysteries one? We can look at famous artwork and we can each write down what we think it means before figuring out what it actually is about?”

Nash thinks for a moment, “Is that the easiest one?”

You sigh and lean back and he laughs, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. That one is fine. I’ll start looking up famous art works right now.”

You look up, straightening up when you see Matt walk in. You smile at him as he looks over, but his face stays the same. He looks away, walking up to the counter.

You furrow your brows, slowly looking down at your computer. Your eyes move to his notebook, “I’ll be right back.” You grab the book and stand up to make your way over to him, “Hey, Matt.”

He looks over at you, moving his eyes down to his notebook in your hands, “Are you done with that?”

“Yeah, I texted you. Thanks again for-“

“Here’s your coffee.” The barista smiles and he nods, taking it, “Thanks.” He takes his notebook, looks over at Nash who’s sitting with your stuff, “Thanks.”

“Matt, wait.” You step back as he walks away and he doesn’t stop, he exits the coffee shop, leaving you to feel slightly embarrassed.

You swallow, making your way back to table, “I think we’re done. Just send me whatever pictures you want.”

“Hey, wait. We’re just-“

You cut Nash off, “I gotta go.” You quickly gather up all of your things and rush out of the cafe. You make your way to your dorm, not stopping for anything.

After an hour of contemplating, you sat down on your bed, and picked up your phone to text Matt, Hey, can we talk about earlier today?

He responds rather quickly, What is there to talk about?

Your brows furrow in confusion, did he not think anything was wrong? You tilt your head as you type, You seemed a little irritated with me today after class and at the cafe. I just wanted to apologize if I did anything wrong, and hopefully find out what exactly I did.

You see the bubbles pop up, disappear, then pop up again before disappearing. A few second later, his text comes through, I’m good. You’re good. Everything is good. I gotta work on this project.

You didn’t feel like everything was good, but you weren’t going to push, Okay, see you in class. Thanks again for the notes.

You set your phone down and another next comes through, but it wasn’t Matt, it was Nash, Are these good enough? Attached, is five art photos.

You literally just saved the first five photos you seen on Google. He texts back instantly, I’ll have to find different ones tomorrow then. I have a party to get to.

You scoff, It’s a fucking Wednesday night, dude. Are you serious?

I would never joke about a kegger, y/l/n. We can work on it tomorrow after class, okay? I promise.

You roll your eyes at his message, already accepting the fact that you were doing this alone, K. You toss your phone down and get to looking up different paintings.

After an hour of picking and placing them on each painting on its own slide, you take a break. You check your phone, letting out a sigh when you didn’t see anything from who you really wanted to hear from.

You and Matt met at the beginning of your guy’s sophomore year. He was one of those rare guys you find on a college campus.

He didn’t go to parties on Wednesday nights. He focused on his school work, and he was rarely ever late to, or even skipped class. He was someone you genuinely enjoyed hanging out with, or even sitting through a class with.

That’s why you liked him.

He was really sweet, and you guys seemed to click almost instantly. A part of you felt like he was more into getting through school than he was at finding a girlfriend, so you kept your feelings to yourself.

You wanted to ask him if he wanted to study for the test next Thursday, but with how your previous interaction went, you had a feeling to just let it go, ask him tomorrow in class.

You went back to working on the PowerPoint before you ended up passing out.

Your alarm woke you up.

You groaned as you pushed yourself up from the bed, making your way to the shower before going back to get ready for the day.

Still nothing from Matt, which again, is weird. He usually always makes sure you’re up on time.

As you walk out of your room, you smile as a girl passes by and your phone dings. You bring it up and groan quietly as you see a text from Nash, Good job on the PowerPoint, partner. Want to meet after class? I’m not coming in today, super hungover.

“Of course.” You let out a sigh and tap the screen, Figures. You hit send and make your way to class.

As you walk in, you look around, smiling slightly when you see Matt is sitting down in his seat. You walk up the steps, making your way over, “Hey.”

He nods, keeping his eyes on his phone, “Hey.”

You sit down, opening up your computer, “Thanks again for the um, notes.” He looks over at you, letting out a sigh as he sits up, “Yeah, no problem.” He looks around, “What? No project partner today? Thought he’d be all over you to get it done.”

“Uh, no.” You shake your head, “He is, hungover. Apparently he had a kegger last night that he couldn’t miss, so.”

“Mm.” Matt raises his brows and scoffs, “Figures.”

As soon as you go to speak, your professor walks in and starts talking, and the next hour feels like it drags by.

Matt didn’t really talk to you, when he did, he was to answer your questions about the work, and they were usually one or two words. He didn’t joke around, or laugh at stuff he normally would laugh at.

“Hey.” You lean over, “When class is over, do you want to get an early lunch or something?”

“Can’t. Nick needs help studying for his test later.”

“Okay. Um, speaking of test, do you want to study at all within the next week for next test for us?” You look at him and he shrugs, “I’ll let you know.” He stands up, packing up his things, “Good luck with Nash.”

You laugh slightly, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just, you know. Good luck. With Nash.” He shrugs, “I don’t know, I gotta go.” He walks away and you squint, trying to wrap your brain around what just happened, “Okay?”

Matt usually never turns down an invitation to study with you. There actually wasn’t ever a time he said no, you’ve studied with both him and Nick before, so now things were really weird.

You shake your head and slowly gather your things. You pull your phone from your pocket and text Nash, I’m heading to the cafe if you want to meet me there.

You got no response from Nash the whole way to the cafe. You weren’t banking on him coming, he was probably passed out or had his head in the toilet, discarding last nights keg contents.

As soon as you sit down, your phone goes off with a text from him. At this point, his name alone just pissed you off.

I’m coming, sorry. I fell asleep, can you order me a latte. Extra espresso? I’ll pay you back.

He wasn’t going to pay you back, but you didn’t care. You wanted him to focus and actually help you with this, so you went up and ordered the coffee.

He walked through the door as soon as they came out and he jogs up, “You’re a life saver, fucking hell.” He takes his cup and chugs a few sips, “Thanks.” He motions, “Shall we?”

You scoff, walking by him and sitting down, “I just need what you think these paintings are about, and then tonight I’ll just research their actual meanings.”

“Okay. Cool.” He sits down, scooting over to look at your computer screen. You lean away, “don’t you have your own?”

He looks down beside him, “Forgot my backpack, oops.”

You roll your eyes, pushing your computer towards him, “Here.” He leans over, “Sorry, was I in your personal bubble?”

“Just. Shut up and tell me what you think.” You grab your pen and he raises his brows, “Meow. What’s up with you? Boyfriend troubles?”

“He’s not..” you sigh, “My boyfriend. Just- can you please focus on something other than someone else’s potential business?”

“Fine. Fine.” His eyes scan down over the picture, “Okay. What’s this one?” He points and you pinch the bridge of your nose, “The School of Athens.”

“Okay.” He clears his throat, “The School of Athens.. to me.. looks like a bunch of people gathered around to celebrate something important, I guess?”

You sigh as you jot down his answer, “I mean, I’ll give that to you, it’s not that far off.”

“Really!? Sweet!” He claps his hands together, “Oh this is easy.”

You manage to make it through your project time in one piece, you might have lost a few brain cells listening to Nash explain how to do a keg stand, but other than that, it really could have been worse.

“Okay. I’ll add these into the slides when I get back to my dorm. Then I’ll add in mine and the real meaning behind them, and then we’re finished.” You stand up, shutting your laptop.

“That was easy.” Nash laughs, “Is there anything else I can do?”

“No.” You shake your head, sliding your books from the table, “You did enough. I’ll take it from here.”

“You’re the best partner. Thank you.”

You roll your eyes, “Uh huh.” You grab your coffee and leave.

A little while later, as you’re clicking away on your keys, you notice your phone light up. As soon as you look over, the incoming call screen vanishes and you pick it up.

A text from Matt comes through right away, Sorry didn’t mean to call you. You press your lips together and answer, it’s okay.

You set your phone back down and it dings, then dings again, and again, all back to back. You pick it up, reading down over Matt’s texts.

Fuck it

Yeah I did

I wanna talk to you

His incoming call fills the screen, and you answer instantly, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

You stay silent as you wait for him to speak. He lets out a sigh, “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole. You don’t deserve that. I’m just-“ he pauses, “I don’t- fuck, okay.”

He takes a deep breath, “I guess what I’m trying to say, is that I’m jealous.”

“You’re jealous? Over what, Matt?” You ask, sitting up as you slide your laptop from your lap.

“You and.. Nash.”

“Matt.” You bite your lip, “There’s nothing going on between Nash and I. He only picked me so he didn’t have to the PowerPoint, and I didn’t change it, because one, I thought it would be easy to just do it myself, and two.” You pause, smirking as the words slip from your lips, “You didn’t ask me to be yours.”

“I was going to, but then you said you had Nash, and I just- this jealous rage took over and it pissed me off, I’m not going to lie. It pissed me off that he was going to see you, be around you, I-“

“He isn’t you, Matt.” You felt your blood rush to your cheeks, but a sudden feeling of relief washed over you,“He isn’t you.”

“What are you doing right now?”

“I’m on the phone with you.”

He chuckles, “Right, yeah. Do you want to, I don’t know, maybe study?”

You pull your lip between your teeth and silently celebrate, “Yeah, yeah. I’d like that.”

“Good, because-“

There’s a knock on your door and you can hear Matt laugh from the other side and through the phone, “I’m already here.”

You hang up and get up from your bed. You walk over and open the door, pulling him in by his arm. You turn to face him as you close and lock the door, and he closes the space with his lips on yours.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that forever.” His thumbs rub over your cheeks, and he leans in to press his lips to yours once more.

You slide your hands up his chest, working to undo each of the little white buttons that’s keeping his blue, plaid print top closed.

“Prove to me how sorry you am.” You look up at him with a smirk and he nods, “I can do that.” He smirks, reaching down to pull your shirt up over your head.

His eyes scan over your bare chest and he lifts a brow, “Did you know I was coming over?”

“I was hoping you would.” You walk over to the bed and he follows, his body lying over yours as his lips move against yours in a slow, heated sync.

His hand slides up your side, stopping to grip and kneed your boob. He smirks against your lips as you let out a small moan. He kisses down your neck, “You sound so pretty.”

You smile, arching your back as he twists your nipple between his thumb and pointer, “Fuck.”

He kisses down your chest, moving down your body, “I need these off.” He looks up at you and you nod eagerly. He pulls your sweats and panties down your thighs, biting his lip as his eyes lock onto your cunt.

You spread your legs, watching as he leans in.

You gasp as his tongue presses flat to your clit, rolling your hips as he laps at it, “M-Matt-“ your hand flies down to tangle his hair around your fingers, “Fuck, yes.”

He tilts his head down, tongue sliding up and down your needy opening. He groans against you, tightening his grip on his thighs.

There was something hot about Matt eating you out with his glasses still on, him in glasses is something that literally lit a fire inside of you.

He looks so fucking good.

He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting between you and his lips, “You taste so fucking good.” He groans as he leans back in, his tongue pushing as deep into you as he can get it.

You whine out, slapping your free hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, the walls were paper thin in this place.

“mm, fuck.” You gasp, eyes screwing shut as you pull his hair, “Fuck.” You gasp out as your hand goes to meet your other, pulling him into your more as you roll your hips, “S-so close, fuck, m’gonna cum.”

Matt groans against you, sending just the right amount of vibrations through you to get you over that ledge.

Your thighs twitch around his head, tightening as he guides you through your high.

Your grip loosens as your legs relax. Your chest rising and falling quickly as you watch him crawl up your body to plant his lips on yours.

You moan at the taste of yourself on his lips, sliding your hands up his chest to push his shirt down over his shoulders. You drag your nails back down his chest, causing his breathing to shudder.

You stop at the top of his jeans, undoing the button and pushing the zipper down, “I need you.”

He pushes himself up, reaching up to take his glasses off, but you stop him, “No, leave them on please. I think it’s hot.” You bite your lip as his hands slowly move away from the frame, a smirk toying with his lips.

He pushes his jeans down, tilting his head as he pushes his boxers down and you glance up at him as he slowly leans down.

You pull him in for a kiss, spreading your legs wider as the tip of his cock runs up and down between your soaked folds.

You both gasp as he slips on, moans rolling from both or your lips as he slowly pushes in further.

“Fuck.” He grunts, “Feels so good.”

Your nails sink into his shoulders and your legs tighten around his waist, “M-move please.” Your eyes roll back as he complies, pulling out and thrusting in deeper.

He quickly gets into a rhythm, thrusting in and out at a medium pace.

“H-harder.” You gasp, moaning out as he bites and sucks marks into the skin of your neck, “Please.”

His thrusts pick up, moving into a hard, punishable pace, “That what you wanted, baby?” He groans, “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

You whine out, nodding your head as your eyes roll back. Your back lifts from the bed and you moan out loudly.

The bed moves forward, slamming against the wall with each of his thrusts, but neither of you cared.

You didn’t care about anything but each other.

“So close.” You whine, “F-fuck, don’t stop.”

He moans as your nails sink in and drag across his back, “Fuck, that’s it.” He crashes his lips into yours, “Come for me, baby.”

You moan into his mouth, walls squeezing around him as he pulls you closer and closer to another orgasm, “Fuckfuckfuck.” You slide a hand up, tugging his hair as you come undone.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He slides his hand up to your throat, squeezing slightly as he keeps the current pace of his thrusts steady, “M’gonna cum.” He groans loudly, “Fuck, fuck.”

He slides his hand away from your neck, pressing it into the bed by your head as he pulls out, cum spilling onto your waist.

You stare up at the ceiling, chest rising and falling quickly as you come down from your high.

Matt sits up, looking around for something to clean up with, “Do you- nevermind.” He gets off the bed, bending down to pick up a towel and he comes back over, “Was that a good enough apology?”

You sit up slightly, smirking as you watch him wipe off your waist, “I mean, yeah, but maybe we can do it again just-“

Matt crashes his lips onto yours, “Say no more, baby.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Thank you so much for reading! I love you all tremendously! Catch you in the next one! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[ask-de-writer]

WIND MEETS THE ROM : Part 5 of 27 :

MLP Fan Fiction

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

WIND MEETS THE ROM

Part 5 of 27

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat

54212 words

© 2023 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 06/01/18

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from Part 1, here!

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She led the way sedately back and casually opened a door. Wind made careful note of the exact pattern of the words marking it.

Now she was SURE that she wanted to learn this language. From the adventuring that she had done, she was pretty sure that these Rom were a unique culture. And what she had seen of it so far, a happy one. And far tougher and more ready to defend themselves if necessary than showed on the surface. Maybe there was an advantage to being led by an 800 year old ghost whose assistance in demon stomping was able to earn “little” rewards like 30 meter long ironclad river monitors.

Wind stepped through the door and got another shock. Having adventured on several worlds, she was used to the idea that other world's gravity felt slightly different. She noticed the change as she crossed the threshold. That was not all. The floor underfoot was STONE. So were the walls. Three tall windows let in the light of the SUNS! There were TWO of them. The land was pretty barren outside of the windows but she could see some sort of trees a short distance away.

Tearing her eyes from the outside scene, she noticed that the decoration of the stone and woodwork of the room was unlike anything in her experience. Curiously she inquired, “Won't the people who built this place want it back?”

Black Lotus replied quietly, “I don't think so. Dad says that we missed meeting them by a few years. They had some form of magic that I do not understand and don't want to. They had a war that nobody won. There were no survivors. Their towns and cities are still there, just empty. Not even bodies or bones were left.”

Brightening, she pointed out, “I keep my fabrics and leathers over here in these racks. Leather working is on that bench with the marble top. Leather tools and dyes are next to it. Over there are the sewing and cutting tables. Scissors, pins, needles and threads are in drawers under the sewing tables. Trims are on that rack of rolls and winders. The small forge is for making any buckles, rings or other fittings that you might want. I have bronze, steel, silver and gold to make up fittings and such.”

Wind spotted some of the racked fabrics that looked a lot like her cloak. She ventured, “Is that more of Shansa Na Kili's weaving?”

Black Lotus brightened up as she exclaimed, “You have a really good eye, Wind! She did all three of those bolts! She made those wonderful laces on the rolls over there too.”

Smiling, Wind offered, “I would like to thank her for this cloak. It feels so luxurious.”

As she led Wind out of her sewing room, Black Lotus replied happily, “That is a wonderful idea, Wind! We should keep an eye out for a pretty rock or stone along the road. We will pass her lake tomorrow and you can Lay the Stone for her and thank her in person. I will too. I have a question to ask her about how she made lace trims like those.”

Wind paused and sat at the table in the caravan and thought carefully. Brow furrowed in puzzlement, she asked, “Lay stones for her? I don't quite understand what you are saying. Part of what you said sounds like she is dead and part of it sounds like she is alive.”

Hoof Dancer looked up from some delightful smelling cooking that she was doing to say softly, “The loved dead are always with us. Shansa's body died about three years ago. We should pass her Lake tomorrow. When we do, we will Lay the Stones for her. You can thank her for her weaving and my many talented daughter can ask her about lace making.”

Wind blinked a few times. “You mean that she will be a ghost like Marchhare?”

Smiling serenely, she replied, “Not exactly, no. My husband turned his back on the Lake of Paradise and returned to be completely here with us. He makes light of it but I am sure that it was not so easy as he makes it to be. Still, our loved dead are always with us and we often sense that they are close and give us encouragement, advice or just return our love.”

Wind digested that thoughtfully for a while. Nodding acceptance, she agreed, “That sounds really sensible, especially when you have Marchhare there to sort of prove it. Whether I hear her reply or not, I would like to lay a stone for her and thank her.”

A voice that Wind had not heard before entered the conversation, followed by hoof steps on the caravan stairs, “I am so happy to hear that. Shansa is one of my best friends. I found a lovely fortification pattern sard for her. I am Rose, by the way. Rose Na Shara.”

Wind introduced herself, “I am Wind, Rose. Wind Whisper. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Wind. I have never met a being from another world before. I know that Marchhare and De Writer go to other worlds sometimes, but they have never brought any being back with them that I know of.”

Wind nodded. “I understand that pretty well. I have adventured on several worlds and some of them have things and, well, people that you really would not want romping about here.”

That was met by laughter from all present.

Wind added, “I saw your children's sky dance this morning. It was lovely. You must be very proud of them.”

Rose visibly swelled with pride. “They are very accomplished. I admit that I am nervous about them performing at the Haymarket fair. There will be unicorn ponies there and some of them drink more fermented locoweed than is wise.

“That is what happened to their birth parents. A drunken unicorn clamped their wings with his magic while they were a hundred feet up. They were both killed by the fall. Of course our loved dead are always with us but we do miss being able to hold them close.”

Wind nodded. “I understand. If you wish, I can help to watch the crowd to keep them safe.”

Rose agreed at once, “Extra eyes would be appreciated. Will you be healed enough to do that?”

Black Lotus chimed in, “Wind is mostly healed now, really. She will be able to move about freely in only two more days. It is three pulls to the Haymarket fair. All that she will need is to learn what to look for.”

Rose quietly accepted that, instead questioning, “Does Wind have some sort of magic that does not show? I mean, we all know that she has a missing forelimb.”

Silently, Hoof Dancer offered Wind a used sheet of parchment. “Show Rose what does not show, Wind.”

Grinning, she took the parchment and flipped it up into the air. She struck at it as it fluttered down. Two pieces of parchment fell to the floor. Picking up one, Wind flipped it up and slashed again. Four pieces, one only partly severed fluttered to the floor.

Rose, eyebrows raised, used her magic to pick up the pieces and examine them. “That is amazing, Wind. I did not see how you did that at all. It could be the foundation of a wonderful act. May I see how you did this?”

Wind, all smiles under that praise, rolled her right hand palm up, fingers extended. With the slightest of flexes, her five half inch long razor sharp claws extended.

Rose blinked about twice and said in awe, “You are an amazingly dangerous being, Wind.”

Old Marchhare, still working with his silver wire and pretty gem stones, looked up long enough to point out, “So are the Rom. We keep that pretty much under our headstalls, though. We don't want ponies to be afraid of us. They might not come to the fairs that we go to, if they were.”

Changing the topic, Wind asked, “Rose, I saw you teaching foals to read and write your beautiful language. I learn languages really fast. It is part of being an adventurer. Would you be willing to teach me your language?”

Rose looked over to Marchhare, who nodded.

She replied, “I would be happy to, Wind. We really do not share our Gyptian language with many others. Marchhare says that I should make an exception for you and really, I do like you. If you wish, we have an hour before dinner. We could start right away.”

Wind not only studied until dinner, she continued, fascinated by the way that the Gyptian words almost seemed to dance, whether in her mouth or on the page.

Failing daylight finally made her close the book that she was studying from.

As she was tucking herself into the sleeping stall, Wind felt the familiar gentle touch of blue magic snugging her blankets around her.

She said in her newly learned words, “Thank you, Black Lotus.”

Black Lotus replied quietly in her native language, “Sleep well, Wind Whisper Soulblade. Tomorrow will be a day spent on the Road.”

Wind snuggled down and muttered back, “Sounds like fun.”

Feeling completely safe, she drifted off to sleep.

Wind dreamed.

There were trees all about, evergreens mostly. Just ahead of her was a small cabin. Though moss grown, it was in surprisingly good repair. Inside, there was little enough. There was some furniture that looked as if it was damaged by a fight before time finished its work of destruction.

Something caught her eye. She looked about carefully before picking up a large feather of an almost opaline whiteness. Thoughtfully, Wind put the feather into her bag of holding.

Not far from it there was another feather similar in form but of a blue so dark that it resembled a night sky. It went into her bag of holding as well.

Deeply puzzled, Wind stepped out of the house that she knew, with dream knowledge, had been the home of her small childhood, before flight from a monster had cost her an arm and brought her to Mama Dragon.

Not far from the door she spied two markers, side by side. One read “Donovan, Loving husband and father.” The other, like the first, read, “Shiva, Loving wife and mother.” Wind fell to her knees, examining the graves in wonder. Each one was covered with brightly sparkling stones of little value, but pretty.

Wind awoke from her dream reliving of her first adventure to the happy sound of clattering cookware! Judging by the scents, among which Wind could spot the lovely aroma of cooking Ka'chek flour, work was well underway. Dressing quickly and draping her new cloak about her shoulders, Wind stepped out to greet the day.

Black Lotus saw her and called out in Gyptian, “A good day, Wind! Would you rather eat first and wash up dishes after or serve now and eat later?”

Wind unsnarled the words almost effortlessly. Being gifted with languages was a basic adventurer's skill. She returned, “Serve first, then eat. You have all made me so welcome that I would do something for you, too.”

Black Lotus responded, “Grab that ladle and start serving tea. You can have some too, between serving!”

As Wind began filling mugs, she noticed the approving expressions on the faces of the horses that she served. Soon the line ended. Black Lotus pointed with a hoof. “We made you pasties cooked with eggs and fish for this morning. Do you want help with your plate? WE get to sit back in padded ease and nibble while the others wash up and stow the cook ware!”

<== PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

[housewifebuck]

If you had any nonfiction you particularly liked I'd be interested to hear your top 3 of those too 👀

WELL….if you insist:)

1. Plumb’s Veterinary Drug Handbook (9th edition). I reference this book daily she is my best friend I would lay my life down for her. I have the desk version too which is so big and thick I can clamp my yarn winder to it to wind cakes when I’m not at a table LMAO

2. BSAVA feline practice manual. Another book I reference near daily….idk where I would be without BSAVA books I would quite literally quit my job and die and explode

3. REA’s EMT crash course..one of the only books I read cover to cover in 2023, AND the only reason I watched 911. A super interesting and easy to follow course if you’re at all interested in pursuing EMS!

[synthesiswinding]

[doctoringrewindingmachine]

Krishna Engineering Works Manufacturers, exports & supplies Table Top Doctoring Rewinding. Our Table Top Doctoring Rewinding Machine is used for all types of Laminates like, Foil, Paper, LDPE, HDPE, PVC, etc. Our Table Top Doctoring Rewinding Machine is manufactured with us most precision which ensure zero maintenance up to 10 years. We have been manufacturing various types of Doctoring Rewinding Machine for different industries and for different applications per client’s requirement. For more information contact our sales team: kewinquiry@gmail.com

[nobody7102]

I Don’t Hate You: Chapter 3

Pairing: tasm! Peter Parker (Andrew) x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption

A/N: and we have chapter 3! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list.

Chapter 2. Chapter 4

Main Master-List

Series Master-List

____________________________

Running water echoed through the top floor of the house as Y/N washed her face, grabbing a washcloth from the side table to dry her face, as she looked back into the mirror she saw Gwen leaning in the doorway. “Did you need something?” Y/N hummed.

“Nope just waiting to brush my teeth” she answered back, moving to the side Y/N motioned for Gwen to go ahead. Stepping forward, grabbing her toothbrush. She paused her routine turning to Y/N with a slight head tilt.

“Have you ever considered a new look?” Y/N glared a bit at Gwen as she turned to face her. “I mean, seriously” Gwen started “you could have some definite potential buried under all this…” She motioned to Y/N’s person “...hostility.”

Shaking her head, Y/N went back to focusing on herself, grabbing a moisturizer that rested on the counter. “I’m not hostile, I’m annoyed.”

“Ya know, why don’t you try being nice sometimes?” Gwen moved to grab the toothpaste, smearing it along the bristles “People wouldn’t know what to think.”

Y/N shook her head applying the moisture to her face “You forget.  I don’t care what people think.

Gwen nodded the toothbrush “Yes, you do” she chuckled, starting to brush her teeth.

Causing Y/N to shake her head once more. “No I don’t.” she hummed allowing silence to fill the bathroom for a few minutes before she spoke “You don’t always have to be who they want you to be, you know.”

Finishing brushing her teeth, Gwen placed her toothbrush back into her holder “I happen to like being adored, thank you.” she leaned over grabbing a washcloth from herself, wetting it before going over her own face. 

Shaking her head, Y/N paused as her eyes focused on the necklace Gwen wore “Where’d you get the pearls?”

“They’re mom's,” Gwen hummed.

Furrowing her brows Y/N fully turned her body to face her younger sister “ And you’ve been what?... Hiding them for 3 years?” she huffed

Gwen shook her head, setting the washcloth down “No. Dad found them in a drawer last week.”

Y/N’s eyes widened “So you’re just gonna start wearing them now?”

Gwen turned to Y/N “It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them.” she turned back to the mirror, running her finger along the string “And besides, they look good on me.”

Letting out a scoff, Y/N turned away from Gwen leaving the bathroom, heading for the stairs.

Poking her head around the corner, Gwen yelled after Y/N “If you’re still going downtown, will you get me that Book from Louis?” 

_________________________

Pulling up to the storefront, Y/N rummaged around her car before grabbing her bag and dashing inside the shop looking around for the books she needed, and the one Gwen asked for. 

The trip inside took maybe ten minutes tops, maybe less but by the time she exited the store. There was Peter leaning against the hood on the driver's side. “Nice car, sweet vintage… take a lot to keep it in shape?” he asked with a smile.

“Are you following me?” she huffed crossing her arms “Because if you are, you should know that my dad is captain at the NYPD” 

Peter shook his head “Nope” popping the ‘p’ before he continued “I was just over at the laundromat when I saw your car” he motioned to the building across the street “Figured I’d come and say hi”

“Well, how charming” she paid no attention to him as she spoke. Making her way to open the driver door

He raised his brow at her “You’re not much of a talker are you?” 

“Depends on the topic.” she turned to put the book bag behind her seat “My car doesn't really whip me into a word vomit mood.”

Leaning against her open winder he smiled “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” she looked at him confused “Most people are” he explained 

“Why should I be afraid?” 

He just nodded “Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me.” he smirked “But I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, huh?” he winked.

Y/N rolled her eyes “Am I that transparent?” she turned to him “I want you, I need you. Oh baby, oh baby.” she said sarcastically moving her car out of park and into reverse. But just as she was about to pull out of the parking spot, a car pulled up right behind her blocking her exit.

“What the fuck?” she leaned out the window looking behind her, seeing Flash leave the car. “Last I checked its not national asshole day Thompson!” she yelled before motioning back to his car “Do you mind?!”

He smiled paying no attention to her “Not at all” he hummed walking into the store.

Groaning, Y/N paused and glanced between the car and the store before letting her foot off the break and stepping on the gas. Reversing into Flash's car.

Running out after hearing the commotion, Flash’s eyes widened seeing his car “YOU BITCH” he yelled,

Y/N hummed making an over dramatic sad face “Whoops” before it turned to a smile.

As Flash freaked out over his car, Peter watched with a smile on his face, laughing.

_________________________

“Whoops!” George yelled at Y/N who sat on the couch “Y/N I understand you disagree with a lot of people and that you don’t like a lot of people but my insurance does not cover PMS!” 

“Well, then tell them I had a seizure.” she looked over to George who was now covering his face as he paced.

“Is this about UCLA and MIT? Are you punishing me because I want you to stay close to home?”

Y/N crossed her arms “Aren’t you punishing me because mom left?”

George scoffed “You think you could leave her out of this?” he turned to her.

Y/N tilted her head slightly “Fine. Then stop making my decisions for me.”

“I’m your father, that's my right.” he crossed his arms right back.

Y/N shrugged “So what I want doesn't matter?”

“You're eighteen. You don't know what you want.” he motioned to her “And you won't know what you want until you're forty-five. And if you get it, you’ll be too old to use it.”

Y/N stood from her spot “I want to go to an West Coast school! I want you to trust me to make my own choices. And I want you to stop trying to control my life just because you can’t control yours!” she shouted 

“Yeah well I want-” George paused as his phone went off. Taking it out of his pocket he looked over it before pointing to Y/N “We’ll continue this later!” he walked off.

The front door slammed open as Gwen approached Y/N “Did you just maim Flash’s car?” she demanded.

Roiling her eyes she nodded “Yeah.  Looks like you’re gonna have to take the bus.” as she walked away

“Has the fact that you’re completely psycho managed to escape your attention?” Gwen yelled after her.

_________________________

The next day, walking up to Peter, slamming his locker door shut. Flash huffed “When I shell out fifty, I expect results Parker.”

Peter nodded as if to say ‘I know’ with wide eyes “Yeah, I'm on it.”

Flash pointed at Peter “Watching the bitch violate my car doesn't count as a date.” Poking his chest “If you don’t get any, I don’t get any. So let’s go get some.” he started to walk up before Peter called after him.

“I just upped my price,” he yelled. Causing Flash to turn,

“What?”

Peter crossed his arms “A hundred bucks a date…” he hummed “In advance.” he quickly added.

Flash shook his head “Forget it.”

“Forget her sister, then.” Peter deadpanned.

Thinking for a moment, Flash groaned pulling out his wallet handing over two fifties to Peter “You better hope you're as smooth as you think you are, Parker”

_________________________

Walking through the park, Ned and Harry nervously looked around for Peter. Pausing in his tracks Harry hit Ned on the chest before pointing over to where Peter stood taking photos of the settings around him.

Stopping a few feet away Harry shoved Ned towards Peter “Go”

Ned stopped, planting his feet in the ground before hitting Harry’s shoulder “You go!” He pushed Harry back a few steps. 

Groaning Harry nodded “Fine” as he walked over to Peter with Ned trailing behind. Upon approaching Peter his mouth opened but no words came out before he decided on his words “We know what you’re trying to do, with Y/N Stacy” causing Peter to turn to them, lowering his camera.

“Is that right?” he smirked “And what do you plan to do about it?” he hummed

Harry crossed his arms “Help you out.”

“And why’s that?” Peter cocked his brow.

Ned stepped forward “The situation is, my boy Harry here has a major bone for Gwen Stacy.”

Peter shrugged his shoulders “What is it with this chick? She have beer flavored tits, with cherry flavored nips”

“Hey!” Harry started for Peter but Ned placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Listen!” He started “I think I speak correctly when I say that Harry’s love is pure.” Ned placed a hand over his heart “Purer than say….. Flash Thompsons?”

Peter shook his head “Look, I'm in on this for the cash. Flash can stick it in whoever he wants”

Harry started to Peter again as Ned held him back “Okay, there will be no sticking anything in anything!”

Shoving Harry back Ned turned back to Peter “Peter… Pete… Let me explain something to you, we set this whole thing up so Harry can get the girl” he motioned to Harry. “Flash is just a pawn.”

Peter raised his brow “So you two are gonna help me tame the wild beast”

Ned grinned, nodded “We’ll do some research.  We’ll find out what she likes.  We are your guys.”

“And he means that in a strictly non-prison-movie type of way.” Harry added

Ned clapped his hand on Peter’s shoulder “Let’s start here.” He produced a flier “Now, Friday night. Johnny Jameson is having a party, it’s the perfect opportunity.” Ned hummed

“For?” Peter raised his brow.

Ned rolled his eyes “For you to take out Y/N.”

Peter just nodded, “I‘ll think about it.” walking away from them.

Turning to Ned, Harry took the flier from him “I saw this, I thought it was a wine and cheese party”

Ned nodded smirking “Oh it is” Harry furrowed his brows “Then ho-” he paused seeing Ned’s face “Ahhh” as realization hit him.

“Just a little payback to Johnny… This is gonna be some party” Ned chuckled.

_______________________________

Standing next to Gwen’s locker, Flash held up two photos. “Now” he started “Which is better?” He showed Gwen two exact same photos, the only difference, the shirt in one was white and the shirt in the other was black.

Letting out a hum as she looked over the photos she bit the inside of her cheek before she spoke “Um, I think I like the white shirt better.”

Flash looked down at it nodding “Yeah… it’s more-”

“Pensive?” Gwen cut him off.

“Damn.  I was going for thoughtful…” he trailed off “It’s for the yearbook spread” gwen just nodded before Flash continued “So, you going to Johnny Jamesons thing Friday night?”

Gwen hummed, nodding “Yeah, I might.”

Flash smirked “Good, 'cause, you know, I'm not gonna bother if you won't be there.” he chuckled before walking off.

A dorky smile adorning her face, Gwen closed her locker before making her way to the library. Looking around for a few moments before spotting Harry she walked over taking her spot next to him. 

“So have you heard about Johnny Jameson’s party?” Harry started when Gwen sat down.

Gwen nodded scoffing “Yes. And I really, really, really wanna go, but I can't.” she crossed her arms leaning back into the chair “Not unless my sister goes.”

“Yeah I know.” Harry hummed “I'm workin' on that. But so far she’s not goin’ for my guy…. She's not a-” he started before Gwen interrupted 

“Nerd fan?  No. I found a picture of Jared Leto in her drawer once, so I'm pretty sure she's not a full lesbian…. She could be hiding possible bisexual tendencies though” she hummed.

Harry raised his eyebrow “Okay. So that's the kind of guy she likes? Pretty guys?”

Gwen shrugged “I don’t know. All I've ever heard her say is that she'd die before dating a guy that smokes.”

Harry nodded “Okay. All right. What else?”

Gwen’s eyes widened “You’re asking me to investigate the inner workings of my sister’s twisted mind?” She shook her head “I don’t think so.”

Harry sighed “Well nothing else has worked.”

Gwen thought for a moment “I think I know what we could do” she hummed. Leading Harry back to her house, she pulled him inside and up the stairs.

“Isn’t Y/N or your dad home?!” he looked around nervously.

Gwen shook her head bringing him into Y/N’s room “Dad works late tonight, and Y/N is at the library”

Ruffling through the papers on Y/N’s desk, Gwen handed a few loose sheets to Harry every once and a while. “Class schedule, reading list, date book…” she read as she handed pff the papers, “coffee receites, um….concert tickets.” She walked over to Y/N dresser pulling out a drawer. 

Looking over the papers in his hands Harry looked over to Gwen for a moment “Isn’t this a little…… a little too-”

“Do you wanna be able to go on a date with me Harry?” Gwen glanced over to him, watching as he nodded “Then this is necessary” she hummed before pulling something out from the dresser “Ah ha! Black panties!”

Harry raised his eyebrow “What does that tell us?”

“She wants to have sex some day, that’s what.” she looked over to Harry before putting the panties back.

“Well…” Harry started “She could just like the color…” he trailed off.

Gwen stared back at him, crossing her arms “You don’t buy black lingerie unless you want someone to see it.”

Harry just nodded pondering over the current question in his head out loud “Oh. So… uh… can I see your room?”

Gwen paused her actions looking down “No.” she hummed looking over to Harry as she set down the things in her hands “A girl’s room is very personal.”

Harry’s brows raised “oh”

________________________________

Walking up to the house, Ned and Harry looked between each other before Harry leaned forward knocking on the door. As they waited they heard rustling on the inside before the door opened, revealing Peter who leaned against the door frame with a beer in hand. “What?”

“Some insight into Y/N” Harry hummed as Ned leaned over to Peter,

“Should you be drinking alcohol when you don't have a liver?” Causing Peter’s eyes to widen as he looked at Ned.

“What!?”

“Nothing! Never mind!” Ned redirected Peter’s attention to Harry

Harry looked over a few sheets of paper that rested in his hands “One. She hates smokers, you don’t smoke do you?” 

Peter hummed “I smoke a little weed every now and then” he paused “Are you telling me I’m an over-all non-smoker?” “Just for right now” Ned reassured him.

“And there’s another problem.” Harry bit the inside of his cheek “Gwen said that Y/N likes… pretty guys.”

At this, Harry and Ned were met with a steady silence that lasted a few minutes till Peter finally spoke “Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?” he asked, a little offended.

“OH no, He's very pretty! You’re a gorgeous guy.” Ned was quick to jump.

Harry shrugged “I’m sorry, I didn’t know….wasn’t sure” he mumbled before handing the sheet of paper over to Peter pointing to one “Alright.  Okay -- Likes:  Thai food, feminist prose, and "angry, girl music of the indie-rock persuasion" He pointed to another sheet “Here’s a list of CDs that she has in her room.”

Quickly reading over the lists, Peter eyed Ned and Harry “So I'm supposed to buy her some noodles and a book and sit around listening to some weird bands that I don’t know?”

The two nodded before Ned spoke “Have you ever been to The Black Cat Club? Because her favorite band is playing there tomorrow night.”

Peter immediately shook his head “I can’t be seen at The Black Cat Club, alright?”

“But she’ll be there. She’s got tickets.” Ned crossed his arms “Just assail your ears for one night.”

“She has a pair of black underwear, if that helps” Harry quickly added 

Ned nudged Peter with a wink “It couldn’t hurt right?!”

Rolling his eyes, Peter looked between the pair before sighing “Fine.” he spoke through his teeth.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @albeeox @evermoregarden @prfctplcs @jedisstark @yutasflower

Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

[cerezsis]

Home for Christmas

Chapter One

The Doctor and River’s Christmas plans are interrupted by unexpected guests.

--

“You know, when you said you wanted to do some “festive baking,” this wasn’t what I had in mind,” River said as she reached into the glass bowl by her wife’s elbow, stealing a few Jelly Babies. Her eyes lingered on the kitchen table, or rather, the incredibly intricate gingerbread village that was currently occupying the majority of its surface. The houses were detailed in icing and sweets, and little gingerbread trees lined the peppermint pathways; all of which were toped with a light dusting of powdered sugar. Jelly Babies seemed to be the main residence, foil-wrapped, chocolate elves coming in at a close second.

Pausing the delicate job of tiling a roof with gumdrops, the Doctor lifted her head, looking at her work.

“I, uh…” She shrugged. “I might’ve gotten a bit carried away.”

A string of babbles came from the highchair at her side, fourteen-month-old Hope looking to her as she drooled over the broken, half-eaten gingerbread wall in her hands.

“Oi, who’s side are you on?” the Doctor asked, head turning to the baby.

Staring up at her, Hope just smiled, letting out a little giggle as she continued to munch her treat.

“We’re going to end up throwing most of this out, you know,” River pointed out as she swiped a few more sweets, “I appreciate how hard you’ve worked, I do, but there’re only three of us here, and one has a very tiny tummy.”

More babbles came from Hope, stopping only when her tiny grip made her treat break in half, crumbs and part of the cookie falling to the highchair tray.

“Eh-oh,” she said, looking down at the mess.

Chuckling at her daughter’s squeaky voice, the Doctor again looked to the gingerbread village. She really had gone overboard, and not just with baking. Every wall in their home was decorated with strings of garland, complete with large wreaths with red and gold ribbons hanging over every archway and doorframe. Right at the space between the kitchen, living room, and hallway was a very large tree, decorated beautifully – if a bit chaotically – with fairy lights, tinsel, and brightly colored ornaments. Several presents waited under the tree, wrapped in shiny, colorful paper that would be ripped open the next morning. The Doctor loved Christmas, had since first learning about the human holiday, but this wasn’t about her. Even though Hope was over a year old, this was to be her first Christmas. The holiday had just past when the family first made residence on the little planet of Devana, so they didn’t get to celebrate the previous year. On top of all that, this was the first Christmas she spent with River since Darillium. This year had to be special, memorable, though the overabundance of sweets really did present a problem.

“We could give some away?” she suggested, “Season of giving and all-”

Before she could finish the thought, a sudden, loud surge of wind came from outside. The force of it sent snow and debris SLAM-ing into the side of the house, tremors rattling throughout, but thankfully not enough to cause significant damage. Once everything settled, the two adults looked to each other, eyes wide with concern.

“Bundle up the baby?” River asked.

“Yeah.”

Grabbing coats and scarfs, the two had Hope snug in her snowsuit in under a minute. Their own winder gear was thrown on just as quickly, and they ventured out as soon as the Doctor had Hope strapped to her chest.

“Oh, that’s weird,” the Doctor said, eyeing the state of trees as they walked through the woods, “I feel like I almost…”

“Almost what?” River asked, looking back at her.

“Almost…” Voices came from up ahead, ones that sent a shiver up the Doctor’s spine. “… remember this.”

Read More on AO3

[ryvgvji]

hi! i was windering can you write a reaction with sero, kaminari, karishima, and tokoyami where their s/o bans sex for 3 weeks? i dont know if you write nsfw at becuase i couldnt fund rules, but you dont have to if you feel uncomfortable☺️

yes sorry about that, i don’t have rules yet, i have to make them 😅 my fault. but yes i do write nsfw stuff for both kpop and anime. but anyways here’s your reaction☺️ hope you like it!! sorry if it’s not the best

(apologies for any grammar errors.)

✰ characters : Ejirou Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Fumikage Tokoyami, Hanta Sero.

��� banning Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari and Tokoyami for 3 whole weeks, how will these boys handle that?

Hanta Sero

Sero getting banned from sex , wonder how that happened

most likely happened because Sero would be making fun of you

he and Kaminari would be talking about relationships when suddenly the topic sex came up

Kaminari would talk about how his girlfriend would moan and cry in the bedroom begging him to not stop and go harder

“She be like , ahhh Denki , fuck me hard baby!!” laughing as he mocked her moans

Sero would die laughing , rolling on the floor

“y/n is the same way!” he says as he dries his eyes

“oh Sero , daddy! right there!” he mocked you not at all realizing that he just exposed you

next day at school Kaminari mentions the conversation that him and Sero had

“y/n i didn’t know that you called Sero daddy.”

you almost choke on your food when you hear what Kaminari said

“w-who said that?!”

Kaminari points Sero who’s eyes were basically popping out of their socket

you glared at him wanting to knock him into next week

when i say Sero almost shitted his pants

“baby i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make fun of you!!” he whines as he trails behind you to you room. you turn around and stare at him. “Sero you mocked me and revealed that i call you daddy during sex, are you really sorry about that?” he doesn't answer instead, he looks at the floor in guilt.

“baby i’m really sorry, you have to believe me,” he said as he grabs a hold of your hand. you look up at him. you could see that he was genuinely sorry. “please! i’ll do anything just please, forgive me.” he practically begs. anything? you think to yourself. a smirk creeps upon your face as you slipped your hand out of his hold. “anything you say?” you cross your arms over your chest. he rapidly nods in response. the perfect punishment pops into your head.

“no sex for three weeks.” you say blandly. Sero’s heart stops. “n-no what?” he stutters. he’s wondering if his ears heard correct. there was no possible way that you could say that to him. that was something that you would never put him through right? wrong! “no. sex. for. three. weeks.” Sero falls to his knees. he looks up at you like a hurt puppy. “baby no, don’t do this to me. i’m sorry. what i did was wrong, completely wrong. just please, i’m begging you. don’t do this.” his eyes somewhat glossy feeling his emotions go crazy. he couldn’t even think about the amount of torture that he would be put through. there was no way that he was gonna last for that long. “you should thought about that before daddy.” you tease lowly as you caress his cheek. you then walk off and leave him there to mope.

the whole three weeks were straight hell for Sero. he was super horny. he would always apologize and tell you he’s sorry everyday, asking you to let up in his punishment. that didn’t work and he would just sulk for the entire rest of the day. all he wants to hold you in his arms again and make you scream his name. when the three weeks were finally up he didn’t waste anytime. right after school he took you straight to his dorm and fucked you so hard that you were limping the next day. “baby, you’ve had me waiting for way to long.”

Ejirou Kirishima

let’s all think about how this all started first...

this started because Kirishima would promise you that he’d take you out on a date

“babe let’s go out together tomorrow after school.”

SIKE! ain’t happening

he ended up going to hang with Bakugo instead, totally forgetting what he promised to you

he spend the while afternoon and evening out with Bakugo leaving you mad and hurt

the next day at school you completely ignore him, walking away and avoiding him anytime that he comes up to you

he even ends up getting a couple of stank eyes from Mina and Momo.

when he practically harrasses you on the way back to the dorms , you finally tell him what’s up

“you stood me up Kirishima.”

that’s when he finally realized

“oh my god, y/n, baby i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you upset baby. Bakugo asked me to go with him somewhere yesterday and i didnt remember.” he rambles. you really didn't have a care in the world for what he was saying, your just upset that he stood you up for that his friend, Bakugo any less.

“so Bakugo is more important than me?” you roll your eyes. “baby of course not! what kind of stupid question is that?!” you let out a ‘hm’ and searched through your tv for something to watch. Kirishima grabbed a hold of your hand and make eye contact with you. “baby, i’m really sorry. i understand if your mad at me and i will accept my punishment.” punishment? you weren’t thinking of any punishments, you just are upset with him. but since he mentioned, you guess it’s best that you come up with one.

suddenly an idea pops into your brain. “how about no sex for three weeks?” you say with a innocent smile. Kirishima’s body froze. “babe... what’d you just say?” he asked you. you chuckled slightly. “i said, no sex for three weeks.” you leaned forward and place a light kiss on his lips. he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer to him, moving his head to the crook of your neck. “baby, you don’t mean that right?” he whisper against your skin, teeth light grazing the area. you almost shudder at the feeling, but you have to keep it together. “yes i do. and it starts right now.” you said and pushed him away.

Kirishima had never been in so much pain. he felt like he was gonna die. honestly for the whole three weeks, his whole demeanor was changed. he wasn’t as cheerful. he’d try everyday to get you to give up; grabbing your thigh under the table, kissing lightly on your neck, grabbing your ass even. unfortunately for him, that didn’t work. when it finally came to the last day of the punishment, he could not hold in his anticipation. he’d just skip school with you fuck you all day, literally all day. “you are really in for it love.”

Denki Kaminari

how did you come to this situation? simple

he l i e d

he said that he was with Sero, Kirishima and Bakugo

what he didn’t talk about was being with her instead of Sero. her as in Jirou

you found out through Sero’s slip up at lunch the next day

“yesterday was crazy, we should definitely do it again!” Kirishima cheered as he ate his lunch

“i still can’t believe that you guys took Jirou instead of me.” he rolled his eyes

“you didn’t go Sero?” you questioned the boy, he shook his head and narrowed his eyes toward Kaminari

“because of that punk over there!” he pointed

you look over to your boyfriend with raised eyebrows

“you said that you went with Sero babe. you lied to me?” you said calmly as you tried your best to keep your composure

the table was dead silent. so was Kami. he didn’t say anything. or make a move

you just shook your head and got up.

“unbelievable.”

“can’t believe you lied.” you said as you sat on your bed and stare at Kaminari. pure guilt shows on his face. you scoff as he doesn’t say a word. you are so mad at him, you don’t even wanna see him right now. “get out Kami. don’t talk to me.” you point to the door of your room. he opens his mouth to say something but you cut him before he cannot. “oh, and on top of that, your punishment for lying to me is no sex for three weeks, now get out.” you pushed him out your room and slam your door.

he didn’t even get to say anything. he really didn’t mean to lie you, it’s never his intention to hurt you. but for some reason which is unknown to him, he just didn’t want you to know about Jirou. it makes him feel so bad. for the entire next week you avoid him and the rest of the boys. anytime he was near you, you walk away. his heart was broken.”baby, please talk to me. i’m sorry. baby.” he called from outside your door. you sigh, getting up from your bed going over to open the door. “yes?”

no words were exchanged. he pulled you into a hugged walking towards your bed. “Kami what are you-” up you were cut of by Kaminari kissing you. you kissed back, wrapping your arms his neck to pull him closer. you missed this. his hands roamed over your body down to your legs. he lightly squeezed them before wrapping them around his hips. “i missed you so much y/n. i’m really sorry about what happened.” he said pulling away from the kiss. he moved to your neck. you let out a soft sigh before closing your eyes. wait, i’m not supposed to be doing this you thought. “wait.” Kaminari looked up at you confused. “you’re still on your punishment.” Kaminari whined and put his head back in your neck before saying, “baby~ please i’m sorry!” you only chuckled and pulled him away from your body. “two more weeks baby.”

by the time the two were over he was ready. he was not going to waste no time. you could literally feel that the whole day he was watching you. eyes following your every move like predator watching it’s prey. touching you nonstop, hands wondering over your body anytime there was an opportunity. when the last bell ran he rushed. picking you up and going all the way to his room. “baby i’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

tokoyami, tokoyami, oh tokoyami...

he just could not keep his hands to himself for some reason

he was touching you EVERYWHERE

“Tokoyami...” you warned him

you were in school you didn’t wanna get caught and get in trouble

he just smirks and continues to touch you

what was even worst is that nobody suspects anything because he was so to himself, no one would have thunk that Toko would do such thing so he didn’t stop

oh lord was lunch something

his grip on your thigh did not letting up

moving his hand further and further up. you felt like you were gonna bust

“baby no. were at school.” you brushed his hand off

“well we’re in your room now.” he teases and graze his fingers up you thigh. you slap his hand away. “ouch...that hurt.” you rolled your eyes. “baby. you’ve touching me all day. i think that you need to calm down.” you said. “but you like it, don’t you love?” he said pulling you onto his lap.

you smile at him and run your hand down his chest. just then a thought popped in your mind. with a mischievous smile you lean down and kiss him. he wrap his arms around you and leans back on the bed. you pull away and look him in his eyes. “baby how about this.” you lean closely to his ear. “no sex for three weeks baby. since you were being disobent and touching me non stop you are banned from sex.” Tokoyami’s breath hitches in his throat. “really that’s how is gonna be love?” his voice deep and low. you sit up on top and cross your arms. “that’s what i said.” you smiled. you see Tokoyami roll is eyes. “okay then. that’s fine with me, really don’t care.”

this is gonna be easy. or so Tokoyami thought. two weeks in and he can’t sleep. it’s been too long for him. he can’t go any longer. he tries everything that he can to break you. he wants you to give in. “baby, i need you.” he would whisper in your ear. you would only laugh and push him away saying “boy bye.”

thankfully, when the three weeks were over before he knew it. he never been so happy than before, this was something that we wants so bad. even dark shadow hasn’t been this excited. as soon as the weekend hits, he calls you and tell you pack backs cause your staying over his. before you could even knock on his door, he pulls you in, picks you and gently sets you down on the bed. “love let’s waste no time.”

[merianmoriarty]

Adapting Yarncraft Skills for the Disabled

If you have two standard-issue arms in working order with standard-issue accessories (two average-mobility hands with five average-mobility phalanges each), yay!  There’s one set of adaptations you don’t need to make.

If you have full-body or lower-body mobility issues, such as limited leg mobility (or intense leg pain which would likewise limit your mobility) or limited number of legs (which may or may not affect your mobility), make sure your project supplies are in easy reach.  I recommend keeping it all in a large bag or tote, but anything that will let you keep it close and contained will do the trick.  I don’t recommend keeping your yarn rolled into traditional (outer-pull) balls, because they may travel quite a lot as they unwind.  If you purchase your yarn in balls or hanks (rather than skeins, which can be pulled from the center or from the outside), I recommend re-winding them into center-pull balls, either with your hands or with a winding machine.  A standard yarn-winder will do just fine, as long as you don’t lose the end of the yarn that goes in the middle--that will be where you take your yarn from to knit or crochet, so that the main bulk of the yarn doesn’t turn or move as you pull.  Keeping your yarn close to you while you work will limit the possibility of getting your yarn tangled (or stolen by fur-babies).

If you have upper-body mobility issues, you’ll need to make some extra allowances when crafting.  For shoulder mobility or chronic shoulder-pain, make sure you’re seated in a position that supports your upper back--ideally something that lets you lean against it slightly to help keep your shoulders in place (high-backed chairs or recliners are great for this).  For elbow issues, you may find it easier and more comfortable to work over a surface where you can rest your forearms, such as a table or a lap-tray.  For hand issues, make sure you are holding a crochet hook in the hand with the most control (or the least pain) to help keep your stitches more uniform; when knitting, put your working yarn in the hand with the most control (or the least pain) for better control of your yarn-overs.  You may see photos or videos of folks holding their needles or hooks in specific ways, but the only ‘right’ way to hold your tools is the way that lets you use them without causing injury or pain.  Generally speaking, whatever way you hold a pen or pencil is the way you should hold your hook or needle, mostly because you’ve already built the musculature for that posture--I almost always work overhand instead, holding my tools the way I would hold my toothbrush, because the pencil-grip exacerbates my pain (I only ever use the pencil-grip when crocheting fine lace, because I find it gives me added precision, but it still hurts more that way).

Note!  If you have limb differences in your hands, you may need to hold your yarn differently as well as your tools.  If you need to use your toes, your elbows, your chin, whatever--go for it!  Don’t feel silly--you are adapting, and that’s amazing!

Also note!  For neuropathy and chronic pain in the hands, be sure not to let your yarn tension get too tight.  When knitting, you actually need very little tension--just enough to keep the stitches from falling off the needle.  The needle size should dictate the stitch size, and at proper tension, you should be able to just about fit both needles inside the stitch.  If your gauge gets too tight, it can be difficult or painful to get the needles through the stitches.  When crocheting, it’s possible to accidentally pull a stitch too tight to get your hook into it (closing a slipknot), so make sure that your yarn-hand isn’t actually pulling away from the hook--just hold that hand still (or occasionally tug some reluctant yarn from the ball or skein) and let the hook pull as much yarn as you need.  If one of your stitches gets a little too small, and you’re having trouble inserting the hook from the top/front of the stitch, try gently turning the stitch and wiggling the hook into the back loop to loosen it slightly.  If a crochet stitch closes completely, try slipping a yarn needle into it and wiggling until it loosens enough to unravel the stitch and try again.

If you have grip issues, try working with larger hooks and needles, or try crochet hooks with enlarged grips.  Generally speaking, larger hooks and needles will be more comfortable on top of being easier to control.  If you like working big but only fall in love with lighter yarns (like I do), you can work multiple strands together to simulate a heavier yarn.  Crochet is especially well-suited to this; I often work two or four yarn strands at a time with a big hook to make blankets or scarves.  You may find it easier to wind the yarns together into a single combined skein, but I find that the added step isn’t often necessary or helpful, especially early in the piece when the individual skeins are large.

Happy crafting!

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[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - Harry Hook x Reader - part 19 - fight

=

You let out a sigh, looking into the slowly rocking glass of water you had been swirling around. You and Harry had recently fought so now you sat dejected in your kitchen. and it wasn’t like you hadn’t had one before, it's just….this one had hit a bit harder than the last.

It all ended in Harry storming out of your apartment and slamming the door behind him back to his world. It had been three days since then.

And now you sat in your lonely little apartment, watching as the rain beat down on your winders and echo throughout the seemingly empty room.

You took a shaky breath and downed the rest of your water, standing from your kitchen table and walking over to the sink, placing your cup inside, and dragging yourself over to your room.

You flipped onto your bed and curled up under the blankets, burying your face into Harry's pillow.

You felt your nose burn as the sea salt, woodchips, and metal filled your senses. You missed him.

Three days with not even a text or updates from him. You had fought before but he had never left your side for long, sometimes never leaving in the first place, just sitting in the other room until the both of you calm down.

But three days with no contact worried you.

You huffed and picked up your head, laying your chin on the pillow and staring with droopy eyes at your closet door. “maybe I should go first?” you muttered, rolling over and continuing to stare at the door upside-down “but I might make him even madder by not respecting his privacy” the burning at your nose got worse, and you blinked harshly as you scrunched it. Blinking open your eyes, the room around you blurred as tears trailed from the corner of your eyes.

“fuck” you chocked, reaching up and rubbing at your face “god, fuck, shit, ass, cunt”

You gasped as a calloused thumb brushed away a tear from your cheek, you sat up, letting out a low sob as you stared into the shining ocean blue eyes of Harry Hook. “hey” he whispered, leaning towards you and wrapping his arms around you, picking you up and sitting on the bed, setting you on his lap and holding you to him tightly. “I’m sorry my love, it was a stupid fight”

You didn’t respond, rubbing your face into his shoulder and sniffing. You didn’t even remember what you had fought about, it had just escalated so fast. “forgive meh?”

You just nodded into his shoulder, unable to speak around the lump in your throat. Harry let out a relieved sigh, he brought his hand up and thread his fingers through your hair, rubbing his fingers against your head and completely encasing you within his body.

The two of you spent the next couple hours in comforting silence, listing to the rain beating against the apartment and the other's soft breathing.

You had almost fallen asleep to the sound of Harry's heartbeat but he kept shifting and fixing your spot in his lap. At one point you had tossed your arms around him and squished him till he stopped moving, allowing you to properly relax.

Harry pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and lifted you out of his lap, taking your left hand and quickly kissing your knuckles “I’ll go make us some food, what do yeh want ta drink” he whispered. You smiled and shrugged.

“I think I have some sparkling cider in the fridge?” you croaked; voice still shot from your earlier bawling session. He gave a soft smile and nod, squeezing your hand for a moment before dropping it and heading to the kitchen.

You sighed, falling back against your sheets and letting the tension release from your body. Finally, the three days of stress and worry were done.  You lifted your left hand in your sights, biting your lip as the red ruby ring stared back at you.

What if Harry had never come back? What if he had decided that you weren’t worth it? Or had decided to break up with you?

It really was just a stupid fight that had ended badly but it had sent your mind reeling after a whole day had gone by with nothing coming from Harry's end.

You sat up as something delicious passed by your senses, you grabbed your (fav color) fluffy blanket from the top of your sheets and wrapped it around you, padding into the kitchen and licking your lips at the sight of Harry stirring something on the stove. “what-what you making?” you asked, walking up behind him and resting your chin on his shoulder.

He turned to kiss the top of your head and muttered against your hair “chicken rice bowl, Desiree was on dinner duty on the revenge and showed meh how ta make it, it's really good and I thought yeh might like it”

“it looks awesome” you muttered, looking over at the steaming covered rice on the other side of the stove, before looking down at the chicken cooking in the pan that Harry was messing with. “do you need me to do anything?”

“aye, make the sauce fer me?” he gestured over to a paper hanging from the cabinets, and you nodded, walking over to the paper and reading down the quickly scrawled recipe.

“homemade teriyaki sauce?” you murmured to yourself, throwing your blanket on a kitchen chair and getting to work.

Luckily the sauce was easy to make, within only a few minutes it was done and ready to be poured into the pan of chicken.

You handed the sauce to harry who poured it into the pan and stirred it around, letting it coat the chicken. “Desiree said ta let the sauce soak in for a bit, so now all we do is wait” you nodded and leaned onto his arm, smiling softly as he lifted it and wrapped it around your waist.

You had thought you and harry would (hopefully) reunite, that it would be awkward and the two of you would take a bit to get back to the way you were before the fight.

But it was as if the fight never happened, and it relieved you.

You and Harry talked about your usual small talk, the lost revenge, Auradon, wedding stuff, and the events of the past two years.

After a few minutes of talking and waiting, the chicken was ready to serve with the rice. Harry separated from you and pushed around the chicken with the spatula. “can yeh get the bowls out love?”

You hummed in confirmation and walked over to the left where your bowls were, opening the cabinet and pulling out two midsized bowls.

Harry took one of the bowls and spooned a good portion of rice into the bowl before doing the same with the chicken, he took a spoon and poured some of the chicken sauce onto the food, smirking as the dark sauce soaked into the rice.

“nice” he muttered, setting the bowl on the kitchen table behind him and backing away, letting you fill your bowl. He picked up his bowl and walked over to the living room, setting it down on the coffee table and turning on the tv. “Mandalorian or….whatever?” he asked loudly, turning to you and raising his brows

“Mando” you called back, pouring the sauce on your food and grabbing your blanket tossing it on the back of the couch, and plopping down on the soft cushions.

Harry sat next to you and pulled you into his side, clicking on the series and setting it to the first episode. The rest of the night was mostly spent quietly eating food and watching movies.

It was a nice break from the last three days. You let out a light sigh and burred yourself into Harry's side, glancing up at the snoring pirate that still gripping onto you tightly.

You jumped slightly at the sudden buzz coming from Harry's pocket, you stealthily pulled his phone and unlocked it, seeing a text from Uma.

Cap’n

Cap’n-Hey, you two okay?

You smiled, you were glad you and Harry had a friend that cared so much about you, even if she didn’t like showing it all the time

You -(y/n) answering from Harrys phone cuz the dork is asleep: yes we are okay, harry made dinner too

Cap’n - good, another day of Harrys whining and I would have combusted, keep him there for a little bit, he worked himself to the bone to distract himself over here, he needs a day off even though he just had one

You - yes ma’am

Cap’n - (y/n)….

You - sorry :’)

Cap’n - alright, night

You - night!

You set Harry's phone on the coffee table and burrowed back into his side, smiling as his solid heartbeat rang in your ear.

It was hard to believe it had been over two years since you had been magically transported to the Descendants world and fallen in love with who was once a fictional character you had a crush on.

You still had no idea how you had gotten there in the first place but, you looked back up at Harry, whose lashes fluttered against his cheeks, you sure as hell weren’t complaining.

-end of part 19-

ALSO, I thought I started this (part of your world in general) back in….December? of 2018, which I think that’s when I started posting on Wattpad but apparently, I posted part 1 of part of your world on October 19th, 2018! So, it’s been 2 years since I started part of your world! Which was the true start to my growth as a writer! I think I’m going to start wrapping up encore soon since there's not much more I can do with it other than random parts with fluff and some angst sometimes, so maybe 10 more parts at max, maybe ending with the wedding? Idk but I think this set of part of your world is coming to a close. Rewrite is still ongoing with D2 being written right now, and a possible D3 if D2 does good. Along with the Full Rewrite/redone versions of Part of Your World/Reprise, it'll be under the same name with just a 2.0 at the end so it'll just look like Part of your World 2.0/Reprise 2.0

Thank yall for reading!

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[aswithasunbeam]

September 1814

“It’s an armada,” Madison fumed, pacing before his desk. “How can we not even know which direction it’s sailed?”

Silence filled the office.

Hamilton’s gaze was fixed on the view outside the ornate curved windows adorning Madison’s new office. The glittering chandelier overhead hadn’t been lit, unnecessary with the good light pouring in on all sides. The splendor was second, perhaps, only to President’s House, which lay some streets beyond, now little more than a burned husk.

His head still ached, a constant dull throbbing between his temples. The bruising on his face had faded to an ugly yellow in the intervening time since Bladensburg, though his arm was still wrapped tight and fixed in a sling. At least it hadn’t been his writing hand that had been injured.

Eliza hadn’t wanted him out of bed so soon, but after over a week of bedrest, he’d needed to feel useful again. The ride to Tayloe Mansion, where Madison had taken up residence, had been his first real glimpse of the horror and destruction wrought to their capital city. He stared out at the ruined homes beyond the window, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Richmond, Norfolk, Annapolis, and Charleston are all bracing for attack,” Monroe said, finally, when no one volunteered an answer.

The pause had been too long; a sure sign that the person designated to answer wasn’t present. Hamilton glanced around at the assembled statesmen, taking a count. The Secretary of War was notably absent. “Where is Armstrong?”

Madison huffed. “I suggested he might take a short leave, lest he wander down the wrong street into the waiting arms of a bloodthirsty mob.”  

“You didn’t demand his resignation?”

“We have bigger problems to worry about than Armstrong.”

“Who is the acting Secretary?”

Madison gave him a considering look.

“No,” Hamilton said firmly.

Madison nodded. “Fair enough. I need you in command anyway. You’ve become quite the rallying point for the men in last week. Colonel Monroe has offered to shoulder the burden temporarily.”

“Shouldn’t you be monitoring the progress of the peace talks in Ghent?” Hamilton asked.

“I can do both,” Monroe said.

Hamilton gave a skeptical hum. “Well, it’s not as if you can be less effective than your predecessor, I’ll grant.”  

Monroe straightened in his seat, offense plain on his face.

“Richmond, Norfolk, Annapolis, Charleston,” Madison repeated, stepping between them. “Which one do we anticipate the British striking next?”

“None of them,” Hamilton said. “They’re riding high on their victory. They’ll want the jewel.”

Madison frowned at him.

“Baltimore,” Monroe explained, nodding. “They’ll head for Baltimore.”

“Who is in command of the defenses at Fort McHenry?” Madison demanded.

“Major General George Armistead,” a clerk supplied after a short pause, papers rifling.  

“Armistead is working with Major General Samuel Smith, commanding the Baltimore Militia. Smith has refused to cede command to General Winder,” Monroe added. “Winder was in my office yesterday pitching a fit.”

“I can’t say I blame him. We don’t exactly have a sterling record.” Hamilton cocked his outside to indicate the ruin of Washington City beyond.

“Sir?” A clerk poked his head into the office timidly. “Dr. Thornton to see you.”

“Not now.” Madison waved him away.

“Sir, he’s most insistent.”

“What is it about?”

“Something about an American prisoner of war.”

“A patriot of highest caliber!” The incensed shout came from the outer chamber.

Madison rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Let him in.”

Thornton stormed into the room, his finger already wagging. “I demand something be done immediately, Mr. President. William Beanes is a fine American, a veteran, who served under our most revered and esteemed General Washington during the war for independence. He helped bandage our brave soldiers after the Battle of Brandywine.”

“What’s happened to him?” Hamilton inquired in a bid to avoid a full recounting of Beanes’ war record.

“When word reached Dr. Beanes of the British atrocities in our capital, he arrested a group of British soldiers who had yet to return to their ships. General Ross immediately sent out a detachment. Dr. Beanes was accosted in his home, ripped from his bed in the dead of night, and treated most shabbily. Now they say he’s set to be tried for treason in Halifax. He’s being held prisoner on a British warship. I say, this cannot be allowed to stand.”

Madison sighed. “I’m inclined to agree. Who was that man, the navy pursuer – Skinner? He warned us about Cockburn?”

“John Stuart Skinner,” Monroe confirmed.

“Send him out after the British ship. Authorize him to negotiate for the safe release of Dr. Beanes.”

Thornton deflated somewhat at the easy victory. “Thank you, Mr. President.”

“Good day, Dr. Thornton,” Madison replied, nodding towards the door.

When Thornton had left, Richard Rush asked, “How exactly are we supposed to send Skinner after the British fleet, if we aren’t even sure where they are?”

Madison met Hamilton’s eye. “How sure are you about Baltimore?”

“It’s where I’d be heading if I’d just won a victory such as theirs.”

“Baltimore does seem the most tempting target available,” Monroe agreed.

“We’ll tell Skinner to head in that direction, then. If he’s successful, all the more support for our theory. Now, do we send Winder to reinforce Baltimore over the militia commander’s objections?”

“Does Smith have a strategy?” Hamilton asked Monroe.

“He’s already begun reinforcing McHenry for a siege. The key to keeping the city will be to keep the British out of the inner harbor.”

“What’s their fire power?”

“Fifty mounted guns and about a thousand men.”

Hamilton considered a moment. “I say we send men to help reinforce the militia, but leave Smith in command. The last thing we need is a squabble at the top wasting valuable time.”

Madison nodded. Sizing Hamilton up, he asked, “Can you ride?”

Hamilton gestured to the sling securing his left arm to his body. “I doubt it. I’m currently down to one working limb.”

“We can take a carriage, then. I’d like you to come with me to review the men before we give the orders to march for Baltimore.”

“Of course, Mr. President,” Hamilton agreed.  

“Sir, about the budget shortfalls,” Secretary Campbell began, before pausing to cough wetly into a handkerchief.

Madison heaved a sigh. “There’s nothing we can about that at the present moment.”

Campbell cleared his throat. “If we don’t have a treaty by year end, we may not have funds enough to continue paying our standing army.”  

Hamilton gave Madison a significant look.

“I know, I know,” Madison griped at him. “The bank. The blasted bank will cure all our ills, and it never should have been allowed to expire in the first place.”

Hamilton held his right hand up, palm facing out, placating.

Madison collapsed into his chair, shoulders slumped. “I can’t even get Congress to agree to keep Washington as the capital right now, never mind agree to recharter your bank. They’re all crammed into the Patent Office arguing with each other about which of their cities is the obvious choice to be the seat of government.”  

“Bank charters. Disagreements over the location of the capital. Is it possible I hit my head so hard I ended up back in 1790?” Hamilton teased. “This all sounds frighteningly familiar.”  

Madison chuckled wearily. “If you did, you’ve brought me with you.”

“My sincere apologies.”

“Well, we managed it once before, didn’t we?”

Hamilton nodded. “We did, indeed.”

Madison gave him a fond look before casting his gaze over the assembled cabinet. “Anything else, gentlemen?”

**

Hamilton’s whole body tensed, alert, at the soft creak of the floorboards. No knock followed. His heart beat hard in his throat as he waited for more sounds in the dark.

“It was probably one of the children,” Eliza said wearily from beside him.

“What?”

She rolled over in bed and adjusted closer to him. “One of the children,” she repeated. “You need to relax. Get some rest.”

“I can’t.”  

“Honey,” she sighed. Her fingers combed through his hair, gentle, mindful his bruising even in the dark.

“I should be there. Helping. Doing something. How can we have no word? Nothing, for hours now.”

“It takes time for riders to make their way from Baltimore,” she said, frustratingly practical. “You may not hear more until late tomorrow.”

“The bombardment had started. They must know something.”

“Torturing yourself all night isn’t helping.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” he repeated. He pushed himself up against the pillows with his one good arm, dislodging Eliza as moved. “Maybe if I leave now, I can be close enough to the city to hear word in the morning.”

He felt her sit up beside him. “The riders would go right past you, come here, and be obliged to turn around to go find you on the road. How would that help?”

“I’d be doing something.”

She sighed.

The mattress shifted, and he felt Eliza push the blankets aside. She lit a candle on the bedside table, and he blinked in the sudden light. Rising from the bed, she shrugged on her dressing gown.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m going to run you a bath,” she said.

“A bath?”

“You need to relax. You’re wound tight as a drum. A nice hot bath will help.”

He shook his head as she padded from the room. The fate of the nation hung in the balance, his mind spun at a dizzying speed, and she wanted to fix it all with a bath. Annoyingly, he knew it would probably work, too. His darling, dearest wife.

Some minutes later, she returned, and began to situate his chair into place. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arm under him to help shift him over into the seat, a task hugely complicated by having only one working arm. Candlelight glowed in the adjourning chamber. She pushed him inside, the tub set up in the center of the room, steaming invitingly.

She gently untied the sling at his neck, her fingers warm and soft as they tickled against the sensitive skin. Next, she unbuttoned his night shirt, sliding it out from under him and slowly pulling it over his head. His left shoulder ached when he lifted it, and the shirt grazed his bruised temple, causing him to let out a soft hiss.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t you.”

Carefully, she guided him over onto the strategically placed seat in the tub. She submerged his legs, then had him lean against her as she pulled the seat out from under him, letting him sink down into the blessedly hot water. He groaned with pleasure at the sensation, the tension in his muscles easing.

“How’s that?”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Heavenly.”

She gave him a smug smirk.

“Hush,” he cautioned.

She shifted around to sit behind him. A soft towel cradled his neck, and Eliza began to gently massage his shoulders. He melted at her touch. She leaned further over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Relax,” she whispered.

He closed his eyes and obeyed.

She shifted him forward to wash his back, then had him lean back again. He drifted towards sleep under her tender ministrations, not eager to move even when the water began to turn tepid around him. The soft candlelight and her loving touch held back the visions of battlefield slaughter that had plagued him the past weeks every time he closed his eyes.

“Sweetheart?”

“No,” he moaned.

“Come on,” she insisted, prodding him. “Lets get you to bed. You’re half asleep already.”

His eyelids felt heavy, and he was pliant as a wet noodle as she began the process of extracting him from the tub. With little help from him, she dried him off, slipped his nightshirt back in place, and got him situated back in bed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

**

The deep, dreamless sleep had helped ease the constant headache he’d been suffering, but he still found himself entirely on edge for much of the next day.

“You have to eat something, sweetheart,” Eliza insisted as he pushed a piece of mutton around on his plate at their afternoon meal. “You need to keep up your strength. You’re still healing.”

But a nervous squirming sensation had taken root in his stomach, and he couldn’t bear the thought of eating. He needed news. Something, anything to tell him how the fight was going in Baltimore.

A sudden knock at the door had him sitting straight up in his seat. He pushed at the wheel of his chair, but made little progress with one hand. Eliza rose from her seat while he struggled.

“You stay,” she directed, running a hand over his shoulders as she passed. “Eat.”

She hadn’t gone more than a step into the hall when the door burst open, however, the visitor evidently unable to wait for an answer. The aide hurried in past Eliza, breathless, holding a piece of paper out before him. “Fresh from the front, General.”

Hamilton grabbed the page, slid his finger under the seal, and unfolded the paper so hastily it wrinkled in his hand. A single line had been scribbled across the page. His eyes flew over the information, his brain a moment delayed in understanding.

Then he smiled.

“What does it say?” Eliza asked, nervous anticipation that had been carefully masked from him before now obvious.

He held the page up for her to read.

“September 14, first light - The stars and stripes still wave over Fort McHenry.”

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[averysexyleon]

Karl x Ada opener

Authors note: This is an intro to a two person roleplay between Ada Wong and Karl Heisenberg. You didn't know you needed it, but baby you did.

Strauss, or maybe the static between the notes, was starting to sound more like the grinder Karl was using. The engineer sneered to himself and dropped the tool to pound his gloved fist on the radio, which sat on the same pile of metal as his current Soldat installation.

The banging didn't help, and Karl frowned over at the cord. The ELF installation should have cleaned up the clarity of the radio. Maybe it had a blown speaker. He picked up the grinder and with a glance at the radio, it turned off. Now Wiener Blut's oddly lighthearted echoes left the subterranean chamber and Karl was left with his thoughts.

This probably wasn't the best way to work. The headgear he was cutting was for the corpse on the next table over; the cadaver was setting out to thaw. Implantation was never successful on a meat popsicle. It would be hours before this neural visor was done, so it was a rewarming race--Karl hated when the corpses began to decompose, when the too-familiar scent of rot overtook the rooms.

Now he'd done it; he glanced over at the corpse and then found himself lost again, not thinking, just staring emptily at the cadaver. What time was it? It had to be four in the morning. He removed a glove and his glasses, rubbing his eyes mostly as an excuse to not look at the grey carcass. He needed a break. Maybe Strauss had been trying to warn him.

He spun on his stool away from the intricate wiring and stacks of metal, to another workstation. He removed his other glove and now, without his dark glasses dimming the view, he reached for the wooden music box. It was comically out of place in his dreary workroom, painted a powder blue color and embellished with beautiful wood carvings and gold leaf.

DONNA was emboldened on the top, glittering in the reddish-orange light Karl insisted on working under.

She'd had another fit, some kind of depression or psychosis, and had broken it. Again. It had been a gift from her father, one of the best wood carvers in Europe, and thanks to Donna's own skilled hand it retained most of its splendor. But it also took a lot of beatings when she was, as Miranda said, "having an episode." An episode of missing her parents, Karl mused, turning the top over to look at the brass plating of the musical part. Imagine, being taken from your home and experimented on causing mental damage. Who would have thought.

It was, of course, that decrepit and obnoxious doll she'd spoken to Karl through, asking in syrupy tones to pretty please fix it. For decades now, Karl insisted that Donna use her own voice when asking a favor from him, which caused her excess stress...this time, he just didn't argue. It wasn't a big deal. He was angry at Miranda for discarding her "special daughter" and one of the "Lords"--what a fucking joke--instead of Donna, who he usually couldn't blame for having loose screws.

It was supposed to play "Für Elise." He inspected it, turning the box carefully while willing the parts to move. First it wound, and he heard the correct pauses between each click of thread. The winder wasn't broken. Now it released. Karl listened to the clunks that resonated from the little plates, a sad mimicry of Beethoven. A hammer or two was broken, it seemed, and one coil was off-center.

He wondered if using his hands was necessary, but then noticed a broken hinge on the lid. Might as well open it up, that would need a new metal lip. This was even more comical; a spring-loaded ballerina was poised to spin when he opened the lid. She popped up, waiting on the music box to send her into a pirouette. The little dancer looked sappily up at him as if challenging him to stare back.

He moved the ballerina close to his faintly luminescent yellow irises. One of her legs was cracked, her skirt askew from the throw that broke the music box.

"Donna, you really have lost your fucking mind if you think I'm gluing that." Donna of course would never--her craft supplies could work far more wonders for a ballerina fracture and wardrobe malfunction than anything Karl had in his entire factory. Just as he leaned forward, happy to repair the music box mechanism, a strangely modern sound blipped from the hall speaker.

"Son of a bitch," he said aloud, and dropped the music box. Karl swiftly, almost troubledly, exited the room and strode down the dark hallway.

Karl was always hesitant to introduce any "modern" tech into the factory, but as time went on it became evil necessity. Still, his paranoia was so excessive that he wired security systems to all devices: a speaker gave a tone any time an email made its way to his closed network. He rarely got any form of communication and liked it that way.

However, he'd had a thorn in his side ...awhile now. She called herself a few things, but he knew the truth. She was a goddamn spy. Karl listened to Miranda's sparse bits of information about contact with Albert Wesker, and organizations to help with her "science" projects long enough to pick up the name.

Ada Wong. Dangerous, calculating, murderous, mysterious, and not to be trusted with any level of seriousness. Blah blah blah. It wasn't as though Miranda thought any spy could be a personal threat. Oh no, that would mean Miranda didn't see herself as an infallible god. That would mean admitting there was a possibility where she didn't continue to get everything she wanted.

Let the bitch think so. But Karl had plenty of reason to want his motives and information kept away from a spy.

She found him, or he found her, when he was digging for information on the "Connections" group that Miranda kept flying to the US to meet with the past few months. Whatever she had planned with that group, it was big. No calculations required for Karl to feel an uneasy pit in his stomach. It was a big deal, and not in a good way.

Ada seemed to have information about it, but was pressing HIM to exchange what he had and knew. He had no intention of giving anyone anything, actually. And the longer the pair surreptitiously exchanged cryptic little notes with no discernable meaning, the angrier he got. And the more paranoid.

Now here she was, bothering him again.

He entered the pitch black room with no trouble at all, and nearly slapped the button that woke the screen. His eyes danced over her typed note, and Karl finally snapped. He knew he would never find safety in shadows, and interrupting his work was getting fucking old. Didn't she have any manners? And wasn't he a LORD???

As it usually did, genius struck him as his anger manifested.

He fumbled with the audio recording option, finally found it. Leaning over the monitor Karl spoke, for the first time, directly to the faceless, personless woman. His voice was recorded, little wave forms dancing across the screen.

"I'm done with the chess, Ada." His accent stressed the first A, as though he were mocking her name itself.

"I've got too much shit to do to be pen pals. You wanna talk shop, you meet me in the stronghold past the Forbidden Woods. I'll give you a week. Sunset."

It was perfect, he decided as he sent the clip. If this was a plant by Miranda to test his loyalty, the excuse of the Stronghold would be literal execution for any typical traveler. That's how he dealt with spies. Problem solved.

If that wasn't the case, and if Ada was as skilled as that Wesker had made it seem, then she might just live and he would deal with her then. If she wasn't a plant, and wasn't skilled, well. The Lycans would deal with that too.

He wondered as he left the room, telepathically turning the radio on again and hearing the magnificent tones of Kommt, ihr Töchter filter into the hallway, what day it was. Would he even remember when a week had passed?

Karl withdrew a cigar from his inner pocket. "You're gonna have to wait a little longer for a heartbeat, you poor bastard," he mused to the corpse, fishing for his lighter. "Gotta fix a fuckin' ballerina."

The choir, still scratchy, swelled from the radio speakers.

Seht! Wohin? Auf unsre Schuld!

Sehet ihn aus Lieb und Huld!

"Can't ask for better hold music."