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ninyard · 3 months

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I would absolutely love to see something about Betsy and Andrew post Easthaven!

a lil snippet of bee and andrews first session after easthaven that i dont want to get long as hell but will probably end up that way anyway??? (tw drake/thanksgiving/easthaven you know the drill)

It was a Wednesday, as it had been a thousand times before, and at ten to the hour Betsy thought about her first session with Andrew.

She thought about his humourless laugh, and how he'd dramatically left the room less than twenty minutes into the session. She remembered how he smelled like stale tobacco and smoke, how he smiled at her, and pushed her limits.

Betsy thought about the second time she met Andrew, the third time, the fourth time. How he'd slowly started to crack himself open and let her in, how he'd allowed himself to trust again.

Betsy thought about their last session before the holidays.

Talking about his family had always been a sore spot for Andrew, uncharted territory most of the time, with far too many boundaries and ‘do-not-talk-about’s to be worth exploring further. They had dipped their toes in on a handful of occasions, tense discussions more often than not shut down as soon as Andrew felt the conversation becoming too close.

They’d made progress, that being said - they’d spent that last session before the holidays speaking about one of the last times Andrew had seen his cousin’s family in person. How interested he was in seeing how their dinner would pan out, about how he couldn’t wait to see the look on Neil’s face when he realised what he’d gotten them into.

(Betsy would not forget Neil’s face for quite some time; stoic, unbothered, with blood on his clothes and no emotions other than Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.)

At five minutes to the hour, Andrew swung open the door with a room-shaking bang. Betsy waited for him to sit down, but he stood there for a moment too long, watching her, and only when Betsy fixed her glasses did she see why.

Betsy had never met this Andrew before.

His eyes did not have much behind them, and it startled her to read his emotionless expression. This didn’t even look like him - it looked more like Aaron, the brother who did not speak, who did not sport the same medicated smile that Andrew had for over a year. It didn't take long for her to realise it was the absence of that medicated smile that made him look so wrong; it was as natural on Andrew's face as the clouds were in the sky. Him stepping into her office without it was as if he'd stepped through the door with a new hair colour, or piercing, or a bizarrely colourful outfit he'd never worn before.

“Andrew,” Betsy smiled. At her voice, he shut the door to her office behind him, and made his way over to the couch at the back end of the room. “We’re overdue a few formalities - happy New Year, for a start.”

He didn’t respond while she made their usual cocoas, and so she filled the silence with meaningless chatter, things that she knew he didn’t care about, but were words nonetheless. She got a better look at him as she placed his mug down, and caught his eyes, glued to her, waiting, watching. Perhaps the light was playing tricks on her, but he had subtle yellow marks on the skin of his face where bruises had faded to almost nothing.

“I don’t think it’s what you want to hear but I’ll ask it anyway,” Betsy checked her seat was clear before sitting down. “How are you feeling? It’s really great to see you.”

It was impossible to tell if the pause that followed was Andrew’s hesitation or reluctance. Was he not speaking because he had nothing to say, or because he didn’t know what to say at all? It was not Betsy’s place to fill that silence, either. If any session were important to hand him the reigns, this was it. He had to do this himself.

It was ten minutes, or an hour later before he spoke. “They shouldn’t have called you.”

“When?” Betsy asked after a pause. When he didn’t answer, she continued cautiously, “In Columbia?”

His lack of a response was response enough. His dead stare, his tired eyes emphasised by un-creased cheeks, his smile nothing more than a hard line across his lips.

“They had no choice,” she said, calm and measured. “You know they had to. You know why they had to."

"They shouldn't have."

Betsy had spent over a year trying to understand Andrew, to figure out whether his smile was genuine or chemically manufactured, trying to figure out what he meant when he spoke in riddles. They'd reached a point of understanding, a point in their therapeutic relationship where she could read him well enough to know what he needed her to say. This felt like square one again. This felt like trying to read a completely new patient.

"Why?" Betsy asked, and she tilted her head ever so gently when he looked her way. "What would you have preferred them to do?"

Andrew paused, and was slow to look away before he spoke.

"I don't know."

It was quiet, and there was something else in the room, something in his voice. Something that told Betsy he meant it. He didn't know. He didn't know what had really happened to him, he didn't know who he was anymore, he didn't know why he didn't want them to call the only person who truly understood, because all of it was far too real. Betsy being there only made it official.

"Talk to me," She said, careful not to change her tone, careful to avoid falling back into the typical therapist mode that Andrew had always despised. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Andrew stared at the wall for a moment before finally moving himself into a more comfortable position, taking off his shoes slower than he usually would, tucking them up beneath him on the couch. He shut his eyes for just a second, and then turned his gaze on Betsy.

"Why did you do it?" He asked, and Betsy felt her stomach bottom out. "Why Easthaven?"

"We agreed on it." She said slowly, trying to hide the defensiveness in her voice, trying to hide the fear that an unmedicated Andrew had started to regret his decision to come off them. "I told you why-"

"That's not what I'm asking." He interrupted with a gentle shake of his head.

When they'd spoken about it, it'd been a messy scrapbook page of pasted reasonings and a scribbled out pros and cons list. There were several different truths as to why Betsy pushed for it, a truth that had been hard for others to understand, but a truth that Neil seemed to understand the best.

"Tell me why." She offered. "Why is that something you want me to answer, when you already know?"

"Because I need to hear it without all the noise."

Easthaven had always been the plan - it was difficult to concisely explain the choice as to pull forward Andrew's timeline of events, but it was something Betsy had had to explain over and over again. To her superiors, to the boards in Easthaven, the courts and parole officers that didn't understand it at all. It had been almost hardest to explain it to Andrew himself, bruised and bloody after a night of retraumatisation and a concussion that left him barely able to focus, who's only coping mechanism was to make jokes to cover the fear that he hadn't even been allowed to feel.

Betsy took a deep breath and took off her glasses before saying, "Do you remember laughing?"

Andrew looked away as quickly as the words had left her mouth. She couldn't read his face well enough to tell if he was remembering, or if he couldn't remember at all. It was a silly question though, she thought, knowing how crystal clear Andrew's memory had always been, but perhaps she wondered whether between the haze of withdrawals and events of that night had led his reaction to become somehow buried amongst it all.

Andrew had kept his past a secret for so long, even to her, that he'd nearly given it his own statute of limitations in a way - nothing can be done about it now. Betsy had promised not to pursue any legal action, perhaps against the protocols she was required to follow, for the sake of his honesty way back in the beginning. For the sake of his openness, Betsy was willing to do anything. Andrew had allowed enough time and distance to pass before he handed over even the tiniest of details about the abuse he'd faced as a child. Enough time had passed that he felt as though they were nothing more than stories. Drake would never be in his life again, whether it be for justice or for some sort of closure, so, to him it felt safe to talk about. Any time he'd found his way into a conversation, the son of the mother that could've been, it was obvious how much it bothered Andrew to talk about it; the way his eyes glazed over recounting the details, the way even the mention of his name stilled him as if he were a mannequin on display. But Drake alone was far enough away from the Andrew that sat in her office months beforehand, and he felt like it was okay to divulge the truth.

But against all odds, Drake had come back.

He'd found Andrew, he'd put his hands on him, an adult now, more capable of fighting back, but still in Andrew's eyes he'd won again. It had been funny to him, the night of, that after so many years he'd finally, naively, stupidly allowed himself to feel safe. He had stopped looking over his shoulder each and every night before he got into bed. He had spoken Drake's name freely in a therapeutic setting without fear of repercussion. Yet he had looked him in the eyes again. Yet he'd felt like that child all over again, and years and years of progress were destroyed in an instant.

And Andrew laughed.

A terrible sound, a joke in the face of shock and trauma, a flick of his wrist as if the bruises that circled it were not enough to tell him that this was not to be brushed away. Betsy remembered sitting across from him that night as if it had been only the night before. She remembered the awful sound of his hoarse laugh as well as she remembered the painfully long drive from her sisters home to Columbia. She remembered it almost as well as the foggy conversation she'd had with Abby over the phone.

She looked across that room at him now, his demeanor that of a stranger, and sighed.

Why had she done it?

For him. Anything else was irrelevant - the season, the courts and their mandated recovery timeline, the opinions of anyone who thought they understood. All of it had been for him.

To keep him alive.

To keep him safe.

"I'll tell you," Betsy lifted up the cocoa she'd sat on the table between them, to rest her lips on the warm ceramic. Andrew watched her as she spoke, and she watched his chest rise and fall after a purposeful deep breath. "But Andrew, I need you to let me finish."

#if i dont find somewhere to end this it will become a Novel #so #here's a chunk of it <3 #mine #andrew minyard #betsy dobson #aftg #all for the game #ask

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totallyhextra · 11 months

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People? In MY computer?? It's more likely than you think!

The following is a fanvertisment and is not connected to the show. ****Yet.*** *Also yes, this is the fourth time I'm posting this because TUMBLR WONT LET ME EDIT SPELLING MISTAKES!

ANYWAY,

Once upon a time, back in 1987, Dire Straits put out this music video for “Money for Nothing”, which, as you know, was a song about wanting my MTV.

youtube

The video was made by two guys (Gavin Blair and Ian Pearson) on a very moody computer. After the video went out, these two guys went to a pub:

Ian: “Hey, we should make a whole show like this!”

Gavin: “Dude, making three minutes almost killed us.”

And so it was decided!🎉

The two guys were joined by two other guys (Phil Mitchell and John Grace) and created the Hub, which then became Mainframe Entertainment. They got even more people, and then they all holed up in this hotel.

They were mad lads with a dream: a whole cgi animated show, and they made it happen a whole year before Toy Story!

Behold! ReBoot!

(Yes that fever dream was real)

Now before I get any of this:

Let me lay this down. If you can’t with the animation of the first season because it was CUTTING EDGE IN 1994, you can close your eyes and listen to it. ReBoot wasn’t just a CGI gimmick. The characters are fully developed, the voice actors are peerless, the plot is sharp, and there’s so many easter eggs that you’ll never find them all.

Never

(And yes the episode "Bad Bob" was the actual catalyst for Fury Road. Look it up)

ReBoot is about what life is like in a computer (in the 90s, because it was the 90s) called Mainframe (because of course it is). People are sprites, the guys that look like 1s and 0s are binomes (which represent 1s and 0s). Bad guys are viruses, and the good guy is a Guardian named Bob, who is a certified cinnamon roll.

In the first season the eps are light and self-contained, mainly because there was constant friction between the Mainframe studios and the Board of Standards and Practices.

They still got away with some pretty dark stuff, like Megabyte (virus) making Enzo (the kid) watch his dog get sliced open (dog got away, obviously) , Dot (sprite) have a hallucinatory breakdown, and the fridge horror of realizing the thousands of worm things (nulls) that plunged off a bridge to their death were actually people.

And Hex's (virus

best girl) scary face single-handedly traumatized an entire generation. 🙂

But busting through a window was a no go, because WhAt If tHe cHiLdReN dID iT tOo?

Anyway, halfway through the second season, ABC cut them loose, so they were like, fuck it, we’re going to start going hard. The story shifted from episodic to arcs and things start to get serious.

Third season the show moved to YTV in Canada, which gave no fucks about shielding the innocent children.

So it got DARK

How dark?

The UK refused to show the entire season, so the audience there had to wait until pirated copies made it across the pond to see how it ended.

Also by 1997, the animation was gorgeous. (Best example of third season animation I could think of that didn't have spoilers)

youtube

The show was green-lit for a fourth season on Cartoon Network, but halfway through production Warner Bros took over and the same fucking thing happened.

Because Mainframe was halfway done, they decided not to scrap all of it, but knowing they wouldn't be able to finish it correctly, Mainframe stripped anything that would hint at Season Four's true ending, then left what remained on a cliff-hanger of angst.

FOR 22 YEARS

(It's also why the last four eps of season four seem to make no sense)

And so it was.

Other crap happened, the soul left Mainframe, and its animated corpse spat out “The Guardian Code” in 2018.

But never say die! The year is (almost) 2024, 30 years later. ReBoot shall rise from the dead, because here come the documentary!!

youtube

Do you dare see what you’ve been missing?

What the (UK) government doesn’t want you to know??

Then come on down to ReBoot!

We got:

Magnificent bastards with sexy voices!

youtube

(Tony Jay at his best)

Kickass women who could probably crush your head with their thighs and you’d enjoy it!

Innuendos in a kid's show!

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💗 This adorable cinnamon roll!! 💗

Insane third season glow-ups!

YOUR NEW GOD

These guys!

(Gay roller-skating binome is my boi. I named him Jerry)

Nonstop cultural refs (You'll never find them all. Never.)

(There are literally videos dedicated to trying)

So many computer puns!

Body Horror!

Existential Crisis!

HAVE I MENTIONED YOUR NEW GOD?

youtube

This is it, folks! The real thing, the gem hidden in the moose-filled forests of Canadia!🌲🌲🌲

Take a trip inside a mid-90’s computer!

See the World Wide Web! (omg):

Witness the original purple Gamecubes that randomly fall from the sky when the owner of the computer (OUR GOOD LORD THE USER) wants to play a game. If it lands on people and they lose, they dissolve into mindless energy leeches, fated to tormented by their former bretheren for all of eternity.

Just like in real life! 🙃

So watch the eps! They on YouTube!

youtube

I think they're on Pluto, Hulu, Sling, and Tubi too! Also DVDs for people who have the patience to wait for them!

WATCH! BELIEVE! SUFFER THE SOUL-CRUSHING RAGE OF THE SEASON 4 CLIFF-HANGER!* (come on, its fun!)*

HYPE THE DOC!

The more people hype, the better the chances of actually getting it finished.

NOW SHARE THIS WITH EVERYONE!

And now I will leave you with this screenshot from the ep "Painted Windows", where dicks can clearly be seen drawn upon the wall behind the fleeing anthropomorphized television.

(PS: If you heard the clown pic at the top of the page in your head, you're welcome)

IMPORTANT UPDATE

This message is now approved by Gavin Blair! He's an awesome guy. Show him some love on TWITTER (fuck you musk) at @TheRealMrSweary Also, if you want to share this with non-tumblr friends, here is my attempt at a webpage version:

theseventhstarprojects.com/REBOOT.html

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 11 months

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Hiii!

I love your writing, especially Mirror, Mirror! Are you still taking request? I‘ve been thinking about Ascended Astarion and female Tav/Reader attending a ball for the politicians and nobles of Baldur’s Gate, getting all dressed up and socializing, dancing and Astarion flirting with her all night long. Astarion obviously wouldn’t waste a chance to be alone with Tav/Reader, takes her on a romantic stroll in the gardens and has his wicked way with her somewhere in a dark corner 👀

I can not make Ascnedant Astarion not dark I am SORRY but I can't help myself. The intro to this is sad bad, but honestly it gets pretty fun later down the line. Gotta set up that Stockholm syndrome. You gots it here.

Tw: Murder, Violence, not much but it is there, graphic smut, 18+ sweet dark fluff. I do consider this Stockholm on your end. Very inspired by the in-game quote of locking you away for a decade. Also, never write shit only in tumblr post editor, I lost half of this right before I was going to post last and it almost killed me

Astarion was.... aware that you'd been having a hard time as of late. If anyone could empathize with the complications of being a vampire spawn, it was certainly him. Even though his circumstance were obviously much, much worse than yours ever could be.

He was no Cazador. Astarion was different, he loved you. He knew what was best for you. All that needed to happen now was for you to accept it.

And in your defense, you were trying. It had taken a long time for you to finally come to terms with the full extent of power he had over you as his spawn. He would always know where you were through sensation alone. Always ready and willing to drag you back home if need be. He could compel you to his side at any moment, though he did have a bad habit of going out to find you during your little tantrums. It seemed to work better to put you in your place, especially since he had very little self-control when it came to who you associated with. Many a possible friend had died at his hand, in front of your eyes. A waste, really, one that wouldn't be necessary if you would just listen.

But the demonstrations had been useful. Slowly but surely you were learning that the option of secrets between the two of you had died the second he sunk his fangs into your wrist. He had personally put an official stop to all of your extracurricular activities. The things you used to do in your spare time were silly and dangerous, always going out of your way to help the undeserving. But now he had the control to stop you, to sequester you at the estate where you were safe.

You had nowhere to be besides his side and you were finally starting to understand that. Things were so much easier when you gave in and listened, happier and more fun.

Lately, it had almost felt like another honeymoon phase, with your sudden predilection for extreme loyalty. It helped that he could still see into your mind through the new connection, fully aware that your love remained real and pure, if not a bit melancholic. It was silly really, the guilt you felt towards him for letting him ascend. Never mind the thousands he sacrificed, you were too concerned with how power had chanced him.

It was cute. Stupid, but cute. Because obviously it had changed him for the better. How else would he be where he was now? With his hands already in nearly every major part of Baldur's Gate's governance? He had made wide, sweeping moves to gain control in the past year, banking on your dual hero status to deflect from his more... unsavory attributes. But it was working, and in a few years time this city would belong to him. Then the two of you would be on to the next major conquest. A future that you were just now coming to terms with.

And Astarion wanted to reward you for that acceptance. He had been a bit paranoid of late, paranoid enough to not let you out of the house for a solid fortnight. But for good reason. The last of the Gur had come out of the woodwork recently, looking for revenge for their children and fallen comrades. With a specific interest in you. It had made sense, in a way. You were his greatest weakness after all. So of course he had to take it upon himself to personally hunt the last of them down to tear them limb from limb.

But now they were officially gone, and he was finally feeling comfortable with letting you out into the world again. Just not out of his sight. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. He had a mandatory soirée to attend, populated by neighboring nobles and a few powerful foreigners. One that would be so much more entertaining with you willingly by his side. Or forced, if need be. Depending on if you decided to be in one of your moods, though they were a rarity nowadays.

But no, you turned out to be too excited at the prospect of leaving the house to even attempt being a brat. Astarion watched you with a smile as you appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed to the nines. He whistled as he watched you descend, beyond pleased with how you looked. He met you at the bottom of the landing, easily wrapping an arm around your waist before setting a quick kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful pet. Absolutely stunning."

You truly did. A navy satin gown that matched your skin tone perfectly, fitted with delicate straps and a low bodice. Perhaps the slit in the leg was a little high, revealing too much of your perfect thigh for the rest of the world. But you looked too good for him to complain.

You really were so gorgeous, could he be blamed for wanting to dress you up?

You rolled your eyes, but Astarion didn't miss the tiny smile dancing on your lips, "You're the one who picked it out."

"And you wear it perfectly," Astarion praised, already leading you out the door. He kept you close to his side during the short journey, his eyes darting around your surroundings every few moments. His paranoia had been quelled, but it hadn't completely died out. But he had already made the decision that he was going to be on his best behavior tonight, and that included not indulging in his protective nature. You deserved nothing less.

But that didn't stop Astarion from taking some mental notes on those who stared at you too brazenly when you arrived. Part of him couldn't blame them, not when he could understand your thrall better than any one else. But the other, more fun part of himself was too busy imagining ripping them apart for the audacious, lustful stares.

But he didn't drag the two of you out for strictly fun, a fact that he was quickly reminded of when you were approached by the main host, "Lord Ancunín! I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Astarion vaguely remembered who he was, though he was much more interested in his friends than the man himself. The man turned his attention toward you, brow raised, "And who is this beautiful creature?"

Astarion could feel his brow twitch at the insolence. How dare he not know who you were? The Hero of Baldur's Gate, his consort, the love of his life, how could someone of his breeding be so ignorant? You had to many titles to choose from for introductions, so Astarion decided on the most important, "This is the future Lady Ancunín, my fiancé."

He could feel you tense at his side, staring up at him with wide eyes like what he said was surprising. Which was odd. He had been extremely clear about his intentions since the day he ascended, marriage was the obvious next step for the two of you.

"Well it's lovely to meet you," The noble said with a smile, his attention going straight back to Astarion, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a few matters to discuss with your future husband."

Astarion was startlingly close to hurting this man. What on earth made him feel as though he had the right to dismiss you? He tightened the arm he had around your waist, sneering at him, "There is nothing that you can say that she won't eventually know. Don't waste our time."

Then he proceeded to do just that, wasting Astarion's time with useless information and worthless attempts at allyships. It seemed to be an unfortunate trend as the night progressed, just reinforcing how utterly useless the gentry could really be. Not to mention their constant passive dismissal of you. He really was going to need to start letting you out more often, though he had to wonder if they were even worthy of your presence. He would have been a bit more forceful regarding his own displeasure at their arrogance if you weren’t so distracting.

It was hard to hold onto his own indignation when you seemed so content. You were leaning into him the whole night, smiling softly through all of his inane conversations. Never failing to be adorably pleased at your introduction. It made Astarion want to fawn over you, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and sweeping you onto the dance floor. All of your pleased laughs and giggles music to his ears.

He kept you close all evening, never allowing you to wander past his sight. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, never quite shaken off after your first waltz together. But you didn't seem to mind. If anything you were glowing under the attention, happy in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Too long. Beautiful enough for him to have the overly romantic thought that he never wanted the night to end.

Even after he had done his rounds, engaged with all whom he had planned on, he wasn't quite ready to leave. They had all been dreadfully dull, but at least a few conversations would prove useful in the future at the very least.

He started to steer you towards the back garden doors, whispering in your ear, "Take a walk with me?"

You followed him easily, happy to leave the bustle of the ballroom and step into the coolness of the night. You both started walking, hand and hand in a comfortable silence. It was a pretty enough garden, hedges and ivy lining the walkways, a white slightly weathered gazebo placed in the center.

"You know," You said eventually, as the two of you went up the gazebo steps. You leaned against the railing, looking at him with a coy smile, "I don't recall you ever proposing."

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crowded around you. It was an unnecessary question, considering how you would have no choice in the matter. But he was playing nice tonight. Astarion grinned at you, bracing his hands on the railing to cage you in his arms, "If you want a proposal, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"I do," You were playing with the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him through your lashes, "Sooner than later if you don't mind."

"Your wish is my command," Astarion murmured, shameless as he started to kiss along the line of your throat, "I'm proud of you pet. You've been an angel all night."

"You haven't given me much to complain about," You said with a small laugh, your breath hitching when his fangs scraped against your delicate skin, hard enough to make pinpricks of blood bubble to the surface.

"You know..." Astarion started, pulling back to look you in the eye. His voice gentle but serious, "It could always be like this. If you let it."

"I... I know," You admitted, biting on your lower lip as you struggled for the words, "I-I want that. I want you. Even if... it's like this."

Astarion would take offense at the subtle dig if it was anyone else. But with you? He was just happy that you were finally coming around, at long last willing to accept the fate he'd set for you.

"You have it," Astarion promised, tilting your chin up to press a light kiss to your lips, "For as long as I breathe my love, you're mine. And I'm yours-"

You kissed him before he could finish, wrapping your arms around his neck, forceful in a way that he had desperately missed. But you were pulling back too soon, your mouth swollen and your lipstick slightly smeared, smiling at him like the precious thing you were.

How could he resist?

"I think you deserve a reward for tonight my pet," Astarion said, leaning in to softly kiss along your jaw, "For being such a sweetheart."

His hands were wandering, already moving to pluck at the delicate straps of your dress, slowly teasing them to drop down your shoulders.

You made no moves to stop him as your eyes darted around the empty space, "H-Here? But what if someone sees?"

"Then I'll tear their eyes out and feed them back to anyone who stumbles on us," Astarion said simply, smiling at the way it made you laugh softly.

"Violence isn't always the answer you know," You said, your breath hitching as he lightly bit your neck. Your dress still slinking down all the while, "I thought we talked about that?"

"Perhaps," Astarion murmured, "But it seems to usually work in my favor."

He had already managed to slip the straps down enough to ease the way, brazenly tugging the fabric until your breasts spilled from the top. He leaned back in, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as you gasped; mewling when he began touching you, shamelessly pinching your nipples just to hear you whine.

He adored all your little noises, so easy to coax out of your mouth. He could feel his own cock pulsing in the confines of his trousers, the feeling getting worse and worse as you started to whimper.

Astarion let one of his hands travel further down, right through the slit in your gown. He traced the seam of your pussy through delicate lace, smiling into the kiss from how the simple touch had your hips pitching forward. He could feel you getting wet, already seeping through the fabric of your panties, your needy cunt already begging for his touch. And Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

He tore them from your hips, letting the tattered pieces fall unceremoniously to the ground before he started to rub his palm against your clit, more slick gushing out as you moaned.

You were clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as he played with you. Your thighs tightened around his hand, your cunt wet enough to fill the air with messy, indecent sounds.

Whatever trepidation you had before was quickly dissolving, a small chant escaping your lips as you two kissed, Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

"Hold onto me darling," Astarion ordered, giving you a split second to tighten your grip around his neck before he was lifting you in the air, settling you on top of the thick railing with your legs spread wide. He made quick work of taking his weeping cock out, rubbing it along the seam of your cunt as you moaned. And then he was pushing inside, the slide soaked and easy.

You felt so tight around him, tight and sopping wet as he started to fuck into you. He bent his head down, popping one of your hard nipples into your mouth as you cried out, your nails clawing into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him in even closer, despite the fact that he was pressed deeply inside of you. Hitting all of your sensitive places.

He could tell that you were close, your whining getting more and more high-pitched by the second, your sweet cunt pulsing around his cock. Astarion started to rub at your clit again, at the perfect angle to make you tense up and cry out. And just like that you were squirting against his hand, breathing heavy as your orgasm ravaged through you.

Astarion grinned, popping off your breast to kiss your slack mouth. Naughty thing that you were, making a mess all over your fancy dress. He pulled back to look at you, debauched and panting, your pupils dilated at you stared up at him. You looked gorgeous, fucked out and perfect.

He started to fuck you harder, the erotic image was too much for his mind to handle. You where whining with each thrust, no doubt oversensitive as he roughly slammed into you. But you were a good girl, taking it without a single complaint as you held on for dear life, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. But lucky enough for you, you didn't have to wait long.

Astarion spilled inside of you with a drawn out moan, grinding circles into your cunt as you quivered. You pulled him in for another kiss, messily sliding your lips together as he filled you up. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, lazily kissing as he softened inside of you. It felt good, it felt right, the perfect end to a great night.

Astarion pulled out slowly, cooing at you as you gasped at the feeling. Your legs were still trembling as he set you back on the ground, bad enough for Astarion to wonder if he should just pick you up before you crumpled on the floor.

But first...

Astarion dropped to his knees, ignoring your surprised gasp as he spread your legs back apart.

"Hush darling," Astarion ordered as he pushed your dress back up, "Let me have a look at you."

Astarion was aware that he had gotten a little rough near the end there. It wouldn't be the first time he made you bleed during sex, nor the last. But he would hate to do so accidently. But no, your pussy looked perfectly healthy, if not a little swollen. Flushed and pink, your hole still twitching the slightest bit. The sight of your pussy all slick and red was nearly enough to make his mouth water.

"Spread your legs a little further pet," Astarion murmured, looking just to look. He gently added pressure to your shaking thighs until you complied, "That's it. Good girl."

His cum was already starting to leak out of you, the smallest bit of white making it's first appearance amongst your wet folds. No doubt it would be sliding down your legs soon enough. He could do something about that. But then again... the alternative sounded like too much fun.

Astarion stood back up with a smile, patting your pussy once before letting your dress fall back down, "Try to hold it in darling. We wouldn't want to make another mess, would we?"

You nodded slowly, still looking half out of it. A sweet, hazy look still plastered onto your face. You were already leaning in for another kiss, naturally desperate for more contact. Contact that Astarion was more than happy to give. He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply; your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. He wrapped his arms around your back, dipping his tongue between your lips as you dreamily sighed.

You pulled away first, to his displeasure, but you didn't go far. You rested your forehead against his, smiling softly with loving eyes, "Hi."

Astarion couldn't help but smile back, taking the time to tuck a wild piece of hair behind your ear, "Hello my treasure. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I think you know the answer to that," You giggled softly, "I'm not even sure I can walk."

That he did. And there would be many more nights like it. Though for now, he'd prefer to get you home. He felt a bit reluctant to parade you back out there for the masses eyes, so obviously debauched by his hands. No, the sight of you happy and flushed was for his eyes only. Your night would be ending here.

You squeaked as he swept you up in his arms, already muttering the magic for a portal under his breath. And just like that the two of you were gone, completely uncaring to give any good byes.

The two of you popped right into the entry hall of the estate, sudden enough to nearly scare a maid half to death. Astarion paid them no mind, too busy with carrying you upstairs to the sanctuary of your quarters.

You cuddled into his chest, looking up at him with a nervous look, "Did... Did I do good tonight?"

"Of course you did," Astarion cooed as he kicked the door to the bedroom open, trying to softly drop you on the bed, "Perfect creature that you are, what else could have possibly happened?"

But you didn't let go when he tried to pull back, clinging hard enough for Astarion to simply follow you. But he didn't mind, no he preferred you like this. Needy, wanting, and his. He twisted the two of your around, settling only when he had you laying on top of him. He would set a bath for the two of you later, but for now he was more than happy to lay here, watching as your tired to stay conscious. You always got so tired after sex, just one more silly thing that he was endeared by.

"I love you," You mumbled, your eyes falling closed, "Thank you for taking me tonight. For trusting me. I... thank you."

"I love you too darling," Astarion murmured back, kissing your forehead, "You get better by the day. I really am proud of you."

It was true. You were learning, adjusting. Give him a decade and you'd be completely immersed in your new life, all thoughts of useless things like "freedom" forgotten.

You were his. Until the end of time, you'd be together.

He'd make sure of that.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #ascended astarion #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #this took awhile #I'm slowly working through these asks but i can not make #anything simple #apparently #but i lost half of this near the end of the process and it broke me #she dirty #im telling yeah #she is

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seeingivy · 1 month

Text

narc

actor!eren x reader

**part of my method acting series

When you open the cabinet and pull out the box of chamomile tea, there’s a note with Eren’s distinct handwriting scribbled across it.

Boil the water for six minutes. Add one teaspoon of the dried flowers. Let it sit for five minutes and then strain them out. I usually add half a teaspoon of honey to sweeten it up for you :)

You can’t help but look up at the frame on the left – a picture of you, Marco, Maya, and Eren – with the godawful cake he got you guys last year.

Happy New Year Birthday Anniversary 4

It seemed that too many big things coincided on the first day of the year. Marco and Maya’s birthday, you and Eren’s anniversary, the start of the new year – so much so that Eren decided that they all deserved one big cake together.

You rub at your tired eyes, lazily smiling at the post-it as you pull it off the top of the box, and stick it back onto the counter. It’s a quiet solace, seeing his handwriting every time you pull the box out and you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You think it’s a little silly that at your very big age, Eren left you instructions on how to make tea. Sometimes it just makes you miss him more.

You follow Eren’s quick instructions – his recent absence making you realize just how much it is that he does around the house – and open up your phone to see his location.

He’s gone, still two thousand something miles away in California, at the hospital. You count the hours backwards, realizing that it’s probably midnight his time so he must be fast asleep and decide against calling him.

You lean against the counter, your neck still slick from the cold sweat you woke up in, as you recount flashes of the dream you’ve been having for the past three nights.

The dark freeway, a long white truck, and a blaring horn.

The kettle clicks shut and you pour the water into the cup, watching the dried flowers seep a golden color to the liquid as you let it sit underneath the coaster. It must have been the pouring of the water, because you entirely miss the pitter patter of tiny footsteps – meaning, it catches you completely off guard when Marco’s wrapping his arm around your leg.

“Can I have some?”

You almost drop the kettle, your heart immediately racing from the shock of his presence, as you set it down, taking the few seconds to catch your breath.

“Sorry. Did I scare you again, Mom?” he asks.

You sigh, reaching down to lift him up onto the counter.

“No, Marco. I was just distracted, honey, that’s all.” you respond.

Marco gives you a distracted nod, messy brown hair and dull green eyes looking down at your cup, as he fiddles with his hands in his lap. Just like Eren. You reach forward, brushing through the tangles in his hair as you eye the clock.

“What are you doing up?”

“I thought you were Dad.” he responds.

You sigh, giving him a joking glare, before reaching forward to pinch his cheek.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, little man.”

Marco gives you a smile, as you reach for the closest cabinet, and pull out the plastic glasses to pour some milk into. You set it to warm on the kettle, as you pour the honey into your cup, and swirl the spoon around.

“Do you know when he’ll be back? Dad?” Marco asks.

You pause.

No. You don’t.

“It’ll be soon, I’m sure of it. He’s just waiting to make sure that Uncle Connie’s perfectly set up before he comes back.”

That was a half lie. Though, you found that you had to do that often – lie about things that were too difficult to explain to the two of them.

Things that were too complicated, and more often than not, things you just wanted to protect them from.

That they were just too little to know about.

Marco and Maya asked you how their namesake, the real Marco died. It was easier to tell them that it was just a car accident, not intentional in how it occurred. They asked you why Eren had a bunch of faded lines on his back when you went swimming in the pool; it was just simpler to tell them that it was a birthmark.

They asked who Teddy’s real father was and told him that it was Sukuna. Though that one wasn’t entirely a lie. But you know what they were trying to ask.

And just two days ago, Maya asked you if her Uncle Connie was going to die. You told her that he was just getting a checkup, but that was the farthest thing from the truth.

Years after the fact, it seemed that the poison that Connie was putting into his body had finally caught up to him – with not only one, but two defective kidneys. And after three years on the waiting list, by some horrible twist of fate for someone else but luck for all of you, Connie was finally getting his transplant.

That was almost three weeks ago. He’s still recovering from the surgery – having taken a whole week to wake up, another one to sit up, and now trying to walk the corridor at the ward he was in.

You had to let Eren go. You knew that he was going to be apart from you and the kids at some point and figured that this was the best time to get over that fear of being away from him, in the soft little bubble you’ve created for yourself.

You shake the thought from your head – of Connie sitting there, frail and alone the last time you talked to him, since visiting hours were well over – and pour the milk into the cup. You hand it over to Marco, placing the cup securely in his hands, as you try to quiet the thoughts racing through your mind.

Five things you can see. Four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can feel.

Eren had whispered it to you when you dropped him off at the airport, a quiet thing he did to manage his own stress.

“What are you thinking about?” Marco asks.

You sigh, turning over to him, and giving him a smile.

“Five things I can see.” you respond.

Marco was well aware of the habit. He tended to be a little more sensitive which was worrying at first – but Zeke said that it was just something that he got from Eren. That he acted exactly like he did when he was a kid.

“I can see you. And me. The cups. And two lightbulbs.” Marco responds.

You smile.

“I can touch the floor with my feet. And the back of the counter with my back. The cup with my hands. And your cheek with my fingers.” you respond, reaching forward to poke at the softness of his cheek.

Marco returns the favor, giggling under his breath as he reaches forward, tiny fingers squishing at your skin. He absentmindedly leans forward, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek, before he continues.

He was every bit as affectionate as Eren.

“I can hear you. And me. And Maya sleeping.”

“You can’t hear Maya sleeping from here, Marco.”

“Yeah, I can. She’s all snotty at night.”

“Honey, those are her allergies. She can’t control that.” you respond.

If Marco acted like Eren did as a kid, then Maya was every bit a carbon copy of you. It was something that Falco and Colt parroted constantly – the biggest fans of all her little at home concerts, her fashion shows, and most of all, her singing.

It seems that she got the seasonal allergies too.

“I can smell your drink and my drink.” you respond, as you down the very last bit of your cup.

Marco seems to follow suit, draining the last of the milk from the cup before he leans forward, short arms barely wrapping around your neck as you scoop him up into your arms. The time must have caught up to him, eyes quickly lidding shut, as you switch off the lights, and lead him back to his room.

He whispers one last thing before you tuck him into bed.

“I can feel you here with me.”

It’s enough to put your mind at rest to go to sleep.

The doorbell rings early the next morning – at seven on the dot – and sends Marco and Maya tumbling down the stairs, their little footsteps thundering as you open up the door to Lana, Sukuna, Teddy, and Grace.

You turn your head over your shoulder, watching as Marco and Maya’s faces drop at the sight of them, and subsequently watch them drag themselves over to the dining table.

“Is that anyway to say hello?” Sukuna asks, chest puffed up from the clear dismissal from the both of them – which albeit, is a rare occurrence.

Sukuna marches straight through the doorway, Lana giving you a warning glance, as you watch him hunch over the chairs – his head hanging in between Marco and Maya’s – as he gives the two of them a little glare.

“Angie. Are you not excited to see me?”

Angie. Sukuna’s special nickname for Maya.

“I thought you were Eren.” Maya responds.

“I wish he was.” Gracie mumbles, earning her a glare from Sukuna.

It worked out well enough. Eren was Gracie’s favorite, but Sukuna was Maya’s. Naturally it irritated the both of them well enough.

You sigh, opening your arms up to the hug that Teddy’s offering you – which Grace piles on to – as you shoot her a warning glance.

“Maya. You’re supposed to call him Dad.” you chide.

“But you call him Eren.” she retorts back.

“Yeah. Because he’s not my dad. He’s just Eren to me.” you respond.

That earns you a laugh from Teddy, as he lets go and starts passing out the plates, with Lana helping you finish making the breakfast from the kitchen.

“How are you holding up?” she asks.

“Yeah, yeah. Same old. Did you talk to Connie at all today?”

You watch as Lana frowns, which sends an immediate pang to your chest.

Eren’s contingency plan on leaving you alone – since the three of you couldn’t possibly go with him – was making sure that you were taken care of. Which included him sending Lana and Sukuna over everyday for breakfast, just so you didn’t feel lonely.

You guys tended to get fickle with how often you’d eat breakfast together – aiming for at least once a week – but you know Eren must have said something because they were here almost every other day.

“Think he’s doing better.” Lana responds.

You sigh.

“Did you talk to Eren?”

“Yeah.”

Eren doesn’t seem like he’s fairing well either. But you figured as much – that it would be hard for him to see Connie in this condition, because the smallest voice in his head told him that it was all his fault.

“I feel like he’s scared to let him go. He’s…he’s scared he’s going to die while he’s not looking.” you add.

Lana nods.

“He could have come back a week ago. Maryam was fine handling it but I just think he…but you know how he is with Connie. They’re like brothers.”

You hum in response. Lana leans forward, resting her head against your shoulder, as you lean into the touch.

“You’re better than me. I feel like I’d be ten different levels of crazy if Sukuna and Teddy weren’t telling me not to worry about him.” Lana responds.

You shrug.

“It’s fine for the most part. Marco and Maya keep me busy. Levi calls me everyday just to update me on his lawn mowing, which takes like four hours alone. It’s all fine, I just…keep having this really weird dream.”

“Really?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I don’t really remember the details. All I know is that…that I’m driving a car. There’s a honking sound and then a big truck that cuts me off and makes me crash. But for some reason, I feel like…I feel like I know the person driving the truck. Like they’re…they’re making fun of me or laughing or something.”

You watch as Lana squints her eyes at you, her touch suddenly stiff, as you give her a look.

“What?”

“Nothing. That is weird. But it’s just a dream.” Lana responds.

“I mean, I know. But I just…I don’t get dreams. Let alone recurring ones. I feel like I know the person or…or something about it just feels really familiar that’s all. I wake up every night just thinking about it, trying to remember what it is that I saw.”

Lana picks up the spoon, plating the last of the eggs into the dish, as she gives you a wary look over her shoulder.

“Stress manifests in different ways. I think this Connie thing is just stressful. Being without Eren with the kids is stressful. I don’t think it means anything.” she adds.

Lana leans forward, pressing a kiss against your cheek, before lifting the plates, gesturing for you to follow as you take them over to the table. You take your seat next to Sukuna – who’s clearly won over Maya in the past few minutes that you were gone – as you sit next to Grace.

“I like the ribbon, Gracie.”

“I’m glad you said that. I made one for you too.”

Lana taught Gracie how to sow, meaning that every time she came over, she left a few more ribbons for your collection. You rarely wore them anymore, but it was nice to keep all the gifts Gracie made for you – pink lace, little charms in the fabric.

There’s immediate chatter the second everyone’s hands start moving – Sukuna and Maya whispering under their breaths, Teddy, Lana, and Marco talking about the recent soccer game – and the only thing you can think about is how the chair next to you is empty.

That Eren would have been here asking Teddy about when his spelling bee is so he could go. And that he’d cut Maya’s fruits into stars with Sukuna just because she likes them that way.

“Do you miss Eren?”

You lean forward, placing your hand on Grace’s shoulder, as you give her a smile.

“Just a little, Gracie. But that’s normal.” you respond.

“He’ll be back soon enough. And Falco and Gabi should be back next week, so…we’ll have more people at breakfast. We’ll have to start ordering chairs for how many of us there are.”

You laugh.

“That’s a good problem to have.”

You can’t help but think that three blocks down, only a few years prior, Eren, Lana, and Teddy used to eat breakfast together every morning, because that’s all they had. And now you barely had enough seats to fill the table.

You think about how it would kill you if Connie never came back to eat breakfast with you guys.

“Y/N. Can you help me practice for the spelling bee tomorrow?” Teddy asks.

You smile.

“Of course, Teddy Bear.”

Teddy curls his nose in disgust.

“Y/N. Don’t call me that. It’s not cool.” he murmurs.

The older Teddy gets, the more he seems to curl his nose at all of the sweet nicknames you all have for him. He barely lets Eren hug him anymore, instead trying to make weird over complicated handshakes – that Eren can obviously never remember.

Your phone buzzes on the table to four texts from Eren.

[eren]: connie made a very obscure pop culture reference today that honestly kind of freaked out his VERY old nurse

[eren]: it was giving ** erwin **

[eren]: the world is healing

[eren]: i miss you!

You appreciate the routine of things. That every night, you comb through Maya and Marco’s wet hair, that you all brush your teeth together, and that you all read a story together before you go to sleep.

“I have a question.”

You close the little book – an old version of Goodnight Moon that Jean and Mikasa gifted you when Marco and Maya were born – and slide it into the shelf.

“Do share, Miss Maya.” you respond.

That’s what Eren always calls her. Miss Maya.

“How did you spend so much time away from Eren?” Maya asks.

“Maya.” you berate.

“Sorry. Dad. How did you spend so much time away from Dad? Like before when you were little?” she asks.

You pause.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only been a few weeks and…and I miss him.” Maya mumbles, the tiniest crack in her voice.

You can feel your chest ache as you lean forward, wrapping your arms around her little body as she leans up, her salty tears spilling straight onto your neck.

“Oh, Maya.” you coo.

“I know he’s gone for a good reason and I’m not mad at him. I’m sad about Uncle Connie too but I just wish he was here. And Uncle Connie was too.” she responds, voice muffled by how she’s burying her face into your shirt.

It’s not even a few seconds before you hear another set of sniffling, only to find Marco getting out of his bed and clinging to your side too.

You can’t help it – you can’t help that there’s warm tears in your eyes too as you rest your head against their freshly shampooed hair, and hold them tight.

You sit there quietly for some time – Marco and Maya’s tears subsiding long before yours – but they make no inclination of letting go. You appreciate that. And it’s not long before they fall asleep, before you tuck them into their sheets, and wipe your own tears before going to bed.

The pictures of Connie on the wall feel like they’re mocking you.

And like clockwork, it happens again.

A cold sweat down your back – because the truck almost hits you, because you swear you can hear laughing, and a clicking sound that you can’t really place. You’re barely asleep for two hours.

You make a mental note. That the clicking sound is new, but you still can’t really remember much besides that. Only that it’s really dark.

When you make it down to the kitchen, you find Marco hunched over, with Maya on his back. You can’t help but laugh – only because this reminds you of Colt – and watch them for a second before interrupting.

“Push higher.”

“I’m trying to, you’re too heavy, Maya.”

“I can’t reach the cups from here.”

“Okay, okay. I’m trying. That’s easy to say from down there.”

You flick the last of the lights open – the ones they can’t reach – as they both turn around, Maya nearly toppling off his back – as you put your hands on your hips.

“You want my help?”

“Please.” Maya groans.

Maya rubs the sore spot on her back, giving you a quiet nod as Marco moves over, and you reach for the cups. The two of them drain their cups of milk the second you fill them – clearly overexerted from the rhythmic gymnastics they were attempting a few minutes ago – as you nurse the cup of chamomile in your hand.

“You know, this is way better when Eren makes it.” Maya states.

You roll your eyes.

“Dad.”

“It’s too bitter when you do it.”

You shake your head at Maya, reaching forward to pinch her cheek before responding.

“My apologies, Miss Maya. I’ll call him tomorrow and ask him what he puts in yours. Knowing him, he does something different for each of us to make sure that we like it.” you respond.

So quick to accommodate, an endless amount of space in his mind to remember everything – Maya wears ribbons on Thursdays, she doesn’t like the purple ones. Marco likes to read Goodnight Moon in the winter, not the summer, because the bunny reminds him of snow.

The light in the doorway flicks on, accompanied by a very tired looking Eren, who gives you a very weak smile through the dim light.

“I put honey in Maya’s because she thinks it’s bitter, sweetheart. Only half a teaspoon, because then she gets kind of antsy.” Eren mumbles.

You turn to your left and watch as Maya and Marco both try to tumble off the counter, excited giggles as they run over to Eren, clinging on to the fabric of his shirt as they basically scream in his ear.

You can feel warm tears burning in the back of your eyes as Eren leans down, arms wrapped around the two of them, as he seems to breathe a sigh of relief – nestling his head in between the two of theirs.

You’re almost positive that he missed them more than they missed him.

Which was saying something.

“Hi M&M.” Eren mumbles.

Their favorite candy. For obvious reasons.

“You too, sweetheart. Come here.” Maya adds, extending out one of her hands to you.

You swallow down the burning feeling in your throat, taking one last look up to dry your tears, before crouching down on the ground with them, Eren’s hand being the one that wraps around you first.

“Maya. It’s Mommy. Not sweetheart.” Eren chides.

You can’t help but laugh – remembering that it was only a few months ago that Maya realized that your name wasn’t actually sweetheart, that it was just a nickname that Eren used for you – as you lean your temple against his.

“Okay, it’s really late. Dad’s going to tuck you into bed, okay?” you respond.

Marco and Maya give you an affirmative nod, as Eren scoops both of them up into an arm each – something you’re too weak to do at this point – as you watch them all trail down the hallway.

“Did you miss me?” Eren asks.

“So much. We even cried about it earlier!” Marco responds.

Eren immediately frowns as he kicks his shoes off at the door, quietly padding into the darkness of their room. Lana’s phone call was very brief – only warning him about the weird dreams you were having – but he didn’t realize that they were feeling it too.

Eren sets them both down, reaching for Maya first as he tucks the sheets in around her.

“Buddy, what do you mean by that? You cried about it earlier?” Eren asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“We all miss you so much we cried. Even sweetheart.” Maya responds.

Eren doesn’t take the time to correct her. He reaches down, pressing a kiss to Maya’s forehead, before brushing through the flyaways around her head.

“She did?”

“Mhm. Longer than me and Marco too. I heard Auntie Lana say it’s because she’s having weird dreams about Marco. You know, the other Marco. The one who died.”

Eren nods. It’s the only reason that he was able to bring himself home and leave Connie. Only because he didn’t realize how fast time had passed.

“I know the one.”

“She’s okay though. She told me herself.” Maya adds.

Eren sighs.

“I know she is.”

Eren switches over to Marco’s side which makes his chest pang a little bit more – the seeping ache of being gone for so long, to be at his side – making his throat burn.

“Everything good, Marco?”

It’s at that second that Marco jumps out of his sheets, little arms wrapped around his neck, as Eren sinks against his shoulder.

“Is Uncle Connie okay?”

Eren smiles.

“He went home last night, Marco. He’s going to be just fine.” Eren responds.

Marco gives him a nod, before lying back down against the sheets.

“I heard Uncle Sukuna say that Mommy was just scared that he was going to die. He’s not going to die, right?”

Eren makes a mental note to call Lana and Sukuna tomorrow and ask them to refrain from gossiping until they get home.

“He’s not going to die, Marco. He’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Connie really missed you both.”

Marco gives him a nod, Eren pressing one last lingering kiss to his forehead, before padding out of the room and flicking the light shut. Eren shuffles back out to the kitchen, noting the open packet of ramen on the counter, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your frame.

He’d deal with them in the morning. You first.

Eren can’t help but nestle into the crook in your shoulder – and noting that you immediately flinch at the feeling.

“Sorry. I meant to shave before I got back. I know it tickles.” Eren whispers.

You laugh.

“S’okay. I’ll help you tomorrow, Eren.” you mumble.

Eren leans down, breathing in the sweet smell of your shampoo and soap mixed in, as he leans his cheek against yours.

Eren ranked all the moments in his head. Sweet memories that felt like lightbulbs to him – the way they stuck out in his memory – but he always had his favorites.

Watching Maya play the piano. Teaching Marco how to take polaroids of you and Maya. Marco meeting Armin and Maya telling Jean his haircut sucked.

And his personal favorite was letting his beard grow out just to the point where it annoyed you – just so you’d offer to shave it for him. Attentive fingers, eyes focused and without fail, a sweet kiss and a hug at the end for his clean shaven face.

It was one of the things that was always promised. That you’d complain, that he’d pretend to hate it when you shaved his beard, and that you’d kiss him afterwards. That you’d taste like toothpaste because you just brushed your teeth and then go to sleep next to him after the fact.

Eren can’t help but squeeze harder.

“You know, you’ll cut off my circulation any second now.”

“Any reason you didn’t come running at me?” Eren asks.

“The little speedsters beat me to it. They missed you a lot, you know?” you respond.

Eren laughs.

“Not as much as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eren shrugs. It takes you three seconds to clock it, before you roll your eyes.

Of course they told him that you cried earlier.

“Who was the narc?”

“There was no narc. I just know how to read you really well.” Eren responds

“Eren.”

“A gentleman never tells.”

“I know they both told you. I just want to know who did it first.” you clarify.

Eren smiles.

“Marco, of course.”

You laugh.

“He’s really living up to the name. The only narc bigger than him was the other Marco.”

Telling Jean when Mikasa was upset at him. Telling Connie that Sasha forgot his birthday.

You feel Eren lift off of you, two hands firm on your shoulder, as he drags you closer to him. It’s warm hands that cup your face and it’s only then that you notice that his green eyes are rimmed with red and that he looks tired.

“I missed you too, you know?” Eren whispers.

You smile.

“I know.”

“You can just ask Maryam. I even cried about it.”

You snort, the tiniest wave of embarrassment peeling off of you, as you lean forward, wrapping your hands around his face.

“Really?”

“You already know that I’m already of the opinion that I’ve spent far too much of my life without you. That includes two weeks in California, Y/N.” Eren responds, voice soft.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“How’s Connie?” you ask.

Eren smiles.

“He brought a framed picture of all of us from our wedding to the hospital room. He’s been fine this entire time.”

You snort.

“Typical.”

Eren laughs.

“He told the nurse you were his sister when she asked about the picture. So much so that they were ready to add you to his health documents and start screening you for blood diseases or some shit because he thought you were actually related.”

You both laugh. And you relish in the fact that Connie was still there, underneath his beaten body.

“Teddy is coming tomorrow for spelling bee practice. Gracie gave me two new ribbons – pink and purple with lace – and Maya wasn’t even excited to see Sukuna yesterday.” you state.

Eren’s eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Hold your horses, Eren. It took her two seconds before she was happy to see him again.”

Eren rolls his eyes.

“Well, Gracie’s coming tomorrow, so he can kiss my ass. And Falco too in a few days and you know I’m obviously his favorite.” Eren asks.

You shake your head at him. Always trying to one up Sukuna – something that was natural, since they were both so good with kids.

“You know, I didn’t even realize how big our family got before our eyes.” you whisper.

Eren smiles, before leaning forward, and closing the space between the two of you. He tastes like the remnants of the cookie – dusted sugar and coffee – hanging on his lips.

“Sometimes I forget I used to dream about this entire thing. Being away kind of reminded me of that.” Eren whispers.

“This entire thing?”

“You and me, the most. But also friends that live a few streets away. Teddy feeling like he has cousins and…and having kids.”

You smile.

“You know your kids adore you, right?

Eren smiles.

“They just have a recency bias. They love you way more than me.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t make their milk right.”

Eren pinches your cheek.

“And I don’t do Maya’s hair the way she likes it or make Marco’s bed properly. Same thing.”

You smile..

“They love us both. We’re both very lucky to have two healthy kids and a family that’s…that’s mostly healthy, that’s all together.”

Eren pauses, a light glisten in his eyes. You can tell that he doesn’t feel that.

“Eren?”

“Tell me about this dream of yours.” he mumbles.

You groan.

“Lana?”

“Technically Maya mentioned it too.” Eren adds.

You smile.

“It’s just a weird dream that I’ve been having. S’always dark and I’m driving. There’s a horn and clicking and I just wake up feeling all frazzled. I think I was just worrying about Connie too much.” you respond.

Eren shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“You don’t sound very convinced.” you state.

Eren sighs, scooching over as he leans towards the bowl of simmering noodles, straining them into the bowl that you have placed at the side. You can’t help but lean against his arm, Eren absentmindedly placing a kiss in your hair, as you watch the steam.

“Did you know that Maryam drove me to the hospital everyday to see Connie?”

You snort.

“Do you have no concern for your life? You are a father now, you know?”

You’re half convinced that Maryam hypnotized someone to get her license at the DMV. Or that she somehow became legally blind the few minutes that she sat behind the wheel.

“I mean, I do. But I just couldn’t bring myself to drive.”

You pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I would just sit in the chair and get all…all anxious just sitting there. I couldn’t even put the key in the engine.”

You lean forward, rubbing your hands up and down his biceps.

“Any reason why?” you ask.

Eren signs, before leaning forward, with his eyes focused on the calendar.

“You know, you always forget to change the calendar.”

“I don’t really look at it.” you state.

Eren leans forward, switching the page from last month to the current one, which is when you notice it.

That it’s June. That it’s been June for a few days now and that you didn’t even keep track of the numbers.

“When did your dream start?” Eren asks.

You get it now.

“Four days ago.” you state, throat dry.

Eren gives you a halfhearted smile, as he counts backwards, all the way to June 11th.

The day that Marco died. And you didn’t even realize. That you went about your business that day – taking Maya to piano, dropping off Teddy at school – and you didn’t even think about it.

“Oh my god, Eren.” you mumble.

“That’s when I couldn’t drive. I…I didn’t necessarily remember, but…but it just felt wrong.”

“I forgot.” you whisper.

“So did I.” Eren responds.

You feel the tears burn out of your sockets as you realize – realize that Marco’s death anniversary passed and you forgot, that you were already in the early hours of his birthday and you didn’t remember – and that time was passing so fast you can’t even remember what he looks like anymore.

You can’t help but lean forward, wracking quiet tears into Eren’s shoulder, as you realize the dream. The clicking sounds were camera flashes, the car cuts you off and you crash, and you feel like you know them, because the paparazzi always seem familiar to you.

You were dreaming about Marco dying. From Marco’s perspective. And Eren can’t get in the car, because he’s petrified it’s going to happen to him.

The thought crosses your mind that Eren rushed back so fast – so fast because he was worried about you.

Not because of the dream, but because of that day. Because when Lana told him that Marco died – she didn’t specify his name. And his first thought was you – he thought you were the one who died.

He was always reminded of it, that feeling, whenever the day came around. The fear of you dying. You wonder if it crossed his mind a few days ago.

Eren lets go, shuffling behind you to rummaging through the fridge.

“Anything close to cake?”

“There should be a cookie or two. Maybe at the top.” you mumble.

Eren slams the door shut behind you, as you reach for the drawer on the left, pulling out the colored flame candles from Grace’s surprise birthday, as Eren joins you at your side, plating the cookie in the center.

You jam the wax candle into the center, Eren quick with the matches at your side as you watch the flame light up purple, and the two of you lean closer to the warmth.

It was the one tradition that you and Eren afforded yourself. That every year on Marco’s birthday, you made a wish for him. And after the fact, you wouldn’t reminisce on it at all – not unless it was happy.

It’s what he would have wanted.

“You first, Eren.”

Eren sighs.

“I wish you were still here with us. But I hope you’re happy wherever you are, Marco.”

Eren’s wish is the same every year.

You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder.

“I know you told us you’d haunt us if we ever apart, but I didn’t realize that applied to domestic travel, Marco.”

Eren gives you a teary laugh.

“I hope you’re resting easy, wherever you are. Come visit me in my dreams the good way. Keep all the bad stuff away.” you mumble.

You and Eren give each other a look, before lightly blowing out the candles together, and wrapping yourselves in each other’s embrace.

You remember shreds of a very vague dream the next morning.

It’s your wedding day. But somehow Marco and Maya are there, giggling as they pass the two of you rings.

And the other Marco’s standing there too, smiling and giving his approval.

an: ah yes. method acting in the lords month august 2024. had to make it angsty for obvious reasons. we all know who I am at my core. also why did this make me cry I miss this fic so much

taglist: @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @chericos @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori i @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlol @mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi @najaemism @ilovekimchi123 @youraggedybitch @xoyumiqls @leafguitar @dreamy-carat @spiidergirlsworld @luvs4kim @levin4nami @florichun @hoonmyluv

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hopelessromantic5 · 3 months

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Merthur with King Arthur and pre-Court Sorcerer Merlin.

(Don’t worry though, when this is continued, he will be given his rightful place.

If I have to write it a thousand times, I will see Merlin get his happy ending, dammit.)

“Um. Merlin?”

The manservant had been daydreaming again.

It was honestly getting out of hand.

Two moons had passed since Merlin finally told Arthur about the magic.

It went better than expected.

A great deal better.

He didn’t even really seem surprised. If Merlin could count on himself as a reliable narrator of the story, he would say he saw relief flicker across Arthur’s face before he began asking questions. But Merlin was basically imploding on the inside and terrified that he was about to lose his best friend and his home in one fell swoop, so he might’ve imagined it.

Thankfully, Arthur seemed more anxious for answers than anything. He wanted to understand. After a week of catching him up on the last five years of their lives, magic included, Arthur seemed at peace with it.

A week later was when control began slipping from Merlin’s grasp, ever so slightly. Arthur came to him on a random day in the spring, and nonchalantly said he had some documents he’d like Merlin to read over. Make sure they were presentable for council.

Merlin thought nothing of it, he’d done it countless times thus far, and was secretly looking forward to proof reading speeches for the rest of his life.

You can imagine the shock when he approached the desk and found a repeal of the magic ban. Sitting there, in the sun, in Arthur’s perfect penmanship.

Merlin began weeping.

He could almost hear in his head,

“Don’t be a such a girl, Merlin.”

But it never came.

Instead, the King silently joined him by the desk, and embraced him, for maybe the second time in all of existence.

They hugged like they were trying to meld themselves together.

Arthur had one broad arm wrapped behind Merlin’s neck and the other locking him in by his lower back.

They were two pieces that somehow fit perfectly together.

Merlin hid his, probably unsightly, face in Arthur’s neck and willed the tears to stop themselves falling.

A few heartbeats later Arthur whispered,

“I’m so sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin involuntarily scrunched his eyebrows at that. Yet, he did not let go. He did not want to leave, not yet.

“Why are you apologizing?”

A whisper came back,

“I hate to see you cry.”

Merlin wished on every star in the heavens, that he could’ve seen Arthur, in that moment.

But he would not let go. Not until his King did.

At present, things were moving along very well with the repeal. Especially among the townspeople, who are more than welcoming towards the Kingdom’s new citizens.

However, Merlin found himself with a whole new set of challenges.

Merlin was definitely not staring at Arthur as he shuffled through reports at his desk. Though, the sun was casting the perfect halo on his blonde head. It painted a picture that was wholly ethereal, calming.

When Arthur looked up from his papers suddenly, Merlin went back to his polishing like he never stopped.

Because he didn’t, of course.

That would be inappropriate.

That’s when he heard,

“Um. Merlin?”

The raven boy’s head snapped up from the sword in his lap, and found amusement in his King’s eyes.

“What?” He was skeptical, narrowing his gaze.

“Are you planning on turning my chambers into the Royal Gardens or is this your only idea on how to spruce up the place?”

“What on Earth are you-“ spinning around in his chair, he finally saw it.

Vines wearing tiny purple flowers were slowly crawling their way up the bed-posts; bigger, colorful flowers were beginning to bloom from the cracks in the stone floor.

This is not good.

“Uh, I have to-“ he huffed, placing the sword in his seat and running for the door. “I need to go, sire.”

“Merlin, what are you-“

“I think I’m coming down with something. I’m just gonna go see Gaius about it.” Before he closed the door behind him he yelled “I’ll be back with dinner.”

And then he was gone.

#merthur #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin and arthur #merthur fic #from the drafts #bbc merlin #king arthur #arthur knows about merlin’s magic #Magic ban lifted #Merlin’s magic has an agenda #thank you for reading #❤️

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weneepie · 2 months

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missing hours w/ wolverine rules | m.list

note. hiii it's my first time posting in here so please be nice with me :( I had this idea with logan for a while so, I hope you'll enjoy it!! please feel free to request <3

The Wolverine. He was a legend, one of the XMen ; actually, he was the XMen. A rude man who lived thousands of years and who seemed to not care about anyone or anything. And there he was, completely pathetic at this bar. Sitting at the counter, he was drinking and making himself miserable. The reason was simple : you weren’t here anymore. It was more than enough to drink until he couldn’t think straight anymore.

Logan never thought he would care enough about someone to go this far, but apparently he was wrong. God knows how many times he laughed at Scott’s face because of his relationship with Jean ; and yet he was no better himself. A long sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes, your face almost immediately coming back to his mind. You were like a virus invading his brain.

You were sleeping when you heard your phone ringing. You cursed silently at your own stupidity for not turning it off, grabbing the device to answer the call without even looking at who was calling. “What is it?” You asked, voice half asleep, slowly rubbing your eyes to try to emerge a little.

When he heard your voice from the other side of the phone, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He almost forgot how soft you sounded when you were waking up. He stayed silent for a while, maybe a bit too long because you started to talk again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s Logan,” he said, and it made you stop in a second. A sigh left his lips before he kept on explaining himself. “I don’t have a reason… Guess I needed to hear your voice, bub.” The silence after his words made him feel a hint of embarrassment. He felt a bit stupid right now ; maybe calling you wasn’t a good idea. Well, of course it wasn’t but…

“You shouldn’t be calling me,” you started, and it broke his heart. He knew you were right. It was more than obvious that he should not have called. Not tonight, and not ever. Yet, he wasn’t able to forget you. You were occupying his mind all the freaking time and it was driving him crazy. He cleared his throat, to make clear that he was still on the other side of the phone.

“You’re drunk, Logan,” you said, way too softly for him to handle it correctly. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.” This time, your words hit him like a truck. Regret? No, it was impossible. It was the last thing he could ever think about it towards you. “Never. There’s no way I’d ever regret talking to you.”

It had no sense, all of this. This situation was far from making any sense. How did you end up with your ex boyfriend sitting on your couch, drunk enough to do any stupid decision passing through his mind. You were sitting next to him, the air thick and the tension more than present between the two of you. You didn’t even know what you offered him to come so late.

Logan cleared his throat before his eyes met your profile, taking a look at you. It’s been so long since he saw you from this close, it was almost like a fever dream for him. “Listen, I…” He started but, when your eyes met his gaze, the words got caught in his throat.

“I miss you. Every single day, and every single night. No matter what I’m doing, I just miss you all the time.” You started to say, and he felt a hint of hope inside of his chest. So he wasn’t the only one with those feelings? You were living it just like he was himself? So why does something felt so off? He couldn’t understand it.

“But we can’t do this anymore. We’re hurting each other Logan, and you know it,” you slowly grabbed his calloused hand between your two delicate ones. He could tell how you felt just by looking into your eyes ; he was reading you like you were an open book. It was way too obvious for him, so hearing those words coming out of your mouth was a pure torture.

Logan seemed to be searching for his words. The so confident Wolverine was a mess when he was trying to make up things with you. “We were too young, and…” You didn’t give him the opportunity to finish his sentence, a slight chuckle leaving your lips. “Young? You know damn well that the problem isn’t here.” Oh yes, he knew itt. You yelled at him more than enough to understand where it was ; but he wasn’t able to do anything about it.

“Nothing makes sense if you’re not here. Come on bub, don’t tell me I’m wrong.” Of course he wasn’t wrong. In fact, he had never been more right in his entire life. You came a little bit closer, not thinking too much as you left a kiss against his cheek. The moment after, you were standing up from the couch. You looked at him, and the soft smile on your lips destroyed everything in his chest.

“You can sleep here tonight,” you told him, and Logan understood that the conversation was done for the night. He took a sip of water from his glass before looking back at you for a moment, the corners of his lips slightly rising in a discrete smile.

“Good night bub,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Good night Logan”, and at those words, you disappeared from his vision in a second. It was easier that way. He was way too drunk to have any serious conversation anyway. So you left him on the couch without saying anything more.

He thought about it, about you until he fell asleep. He didn't know where it would be going, but he had this hint of hope in the heart. Who knows, maybe tomorrow was another day.

thank you for reading!

#marvel #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons #x men 97 #xmen x reader #xmen headcanon #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan headcanons #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine headcanons

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jolapeno · 1 year

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x. oh, just to be with you

javier peña x f!reader | chapter ten of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: we're back to texts and phone calls. sorrowful!javi, two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. pls don't be mad at me ✨ wordcount: 3k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

He's aware of everything.

How the porch creaks when he steps on it, the way the back door doesn’t quite meet the frame unless it’s locked. How the wind is knocking something else, far across the tall grass and fence posts.

Right now, his focus is on how his curtains don’t quite close. That they're letting the thinnest crack of moonlight cascade through his room. How the smallest luminescent slither keeps dancing in the breeze, yet it still lands perfectly on the propped-up photo strip on his dresser, highlighting the two of you, as though he hadn't committed them to memory.

He can’t remember the last time someone had managed to slide around his walls—bypass his common sense and begin weaving themselves into him. Javi also can't remember the last time he wanted something more than a win.

Then came you.

Not that he complains that you're the exception. He'll never complain when it comes to you.

Having people close has never been his issue. It’s letting himself fall that he’s forever found hard. He can be a lover who makes a night all about the other; he can be a protector, shielding and doing what is needed.

It’s the parts after when he feels he clams up. A portion of him constantly weighing up risks, calculating the damage he could cause—either by a choice he could make or others—long before the city that housed Escobar.

Javi knew his reluctance had stemmed from before he left Laredo, but it was now carved somewhere deeper in him. Something you managed to find with relative ease and cut out of him as if it was nothing.

All smiles. All radiance and fucking beauty, with a laugh that could make his lips curl even if his bones are aching and his muscles are tired.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost convince himself that he’s back there, in the hotel room. Because even if you’d never been here, your room is full of him.

His bag of spilt-out clothes from your time together, slowly letting the scent of your perfume seep out across the room. Your jacket, hung on the closet handle, and the photos and sign you made on his dresser, all perfectly in sight.

you have nice handwriting I did try my best, sometimes I get lazy and letters blur together more. I like how you wrote baby Does this mean I’ve got the whole set now? Cause you like how I say it, how I write it, how I mouth it.

Even when he had known you’d needed to get some sleep, Javi had desperately wanted to beg you to stay up. Sending back a text here or there, already missing you so much more than he was sure he could handle.

He felt lovesick. Like the singer in all those songs that make people either stare at a loved one or bite back tears because they lost theirs. Suddenly relating to a sea of them he’s heard on the radio in the kitchen or hummed in the back of his pop’s throat.

Javi had been happy to see his pops, somewhat surprised he even came out of the house to greet him. But, as soon as his eyes landed on him, he became suddenly more aware of his old man’s age. Noticing the lines on his face, the ones that tell a thousand stories—not all of them he’s sure he’s heard. Curling into the hug he’d barely reciprocated before, unsure how to form the words to thank him for convincing him to go.

Naturally, he asks about you.

It’s more of an interrogation if he’s honest. He shows the photos, the ones now on his dresser, watching his pop smile as he continues to answer the array of questions, until he yawns for the tenth time in the space of five minutes.

“You should get some sleep, Pop.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Javi. Tell me more about your lady.”

Your lady.

Those two words stand out as if they’ve been illuminated in bulbs, twinkling and shimmering.

now youre back in reality you sure about us Never been more sure about anything, baby. just wanted to check You’re beginning to sound like me, worrying. left a mark on me Think that’s fair, you’ve left a lot on me too. Especially my chest.

“Tomorrow. Promise. The drive took it out of me.”

But Javi isn’t tired.

Somehow, he had suspected he wouldn’t be the moment he watched you leave.

For longer than he cares to number, he's struggled with it. Had developed an unhealthy live-able balance of it when he was working, something he managed to keep as a prize in his return.

Now, it’s different.

There’s an edge to it. As though he's now having to pay back the stolen sleep he enjoyed when he had been lay with you. When he slept with ease and not struggle. Leaving him feeling now like he’s in a lull, a dream. All aware, not in a daze anymore, noticing things he had never given much attention to before his trip out of town.

You had been so warm, so soft. His fingers gliding up and down your side, soothing you as much as it was him. But, you slept with ease. Falling almost instantly once you'd stopped talking, a little jolt and a soft sigh punctuating it.

Fuck, he misses you.

Thumb and index pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut. Unsure how he's supposed to manage, and cope, until the next chance he gets to see you.

Till he gets to hold you in his arms, stare at your smile as it grows across your face or feels the light tap of your hand when he’s teasing you...

Something ugly curls inside of him. At first, soaked in sadness, before it shakes itself and burns bright with annoyance. Irritation. Anger at how unfair it all is.

How is it, after all, he’s given up—he’s fallen for the one person not even in his state? A person he had to say goodbye to hours ago, for reasons out of his or their control.

He almost snorts, unsure if it’s due to the tiredness or the reality that after all he’s faced, life would continue to be cruel and deal him such a hand. Tempted to get up, kick off the sheets and pull out the crossword from before he left town.

Javi doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes, shaking his head—to no one but himself. Because he can't do them without you now. A promise, one given with ease.

He hears the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the trees. Something needling at him that if he wasn't so broken, this would be the perfect amount of quiet to fall asleep to.

Now, it's not the loud of a Colombian city he misses now. It's how your leg slides over his, how your breaths feel on his chest—how you twitch, ever so slightly, as you first fall asleep.

But, it’s the quiet as to why he hears his phone vibrate, practically darting out of bed, knowing it can only be you.

why aren’t you asleep?

Because I can't sleep without you. Apparently.

I miss you too.

I really hate this. I even miss you digging your knee into my hip.

told you that you’d miss it once it was gone

I feel like telling you that you’re right will mean your head will inflate.

youre right

One day, right?

if I could make that tomorrow I would

You really missing me that much?

not enough words in the world to describe how much, baby

Gonna make me cry.

dont cry I can’t wipe them from here

So not wise for me to tell you I cried the entire flight home.

did the person you sit next to seem to mind

They didn’t say anything until we landed. Then promptly told me that I deserved better.

so they thought you were broken up with

I think I may have led her to believe that from the amount I was crying.

fuck you like me a lot

I like you a regular, normal amount.

I don’t think I like you a normal regular amount

That’s the tiredness talking.

you know it isnt

I feel the same. I really miss you.

I miss you too but you should try to sleep you have work tomorrow

Okay, but so do you!

ill be fixing a shed or a pen baby you have to deal with people

go to sleep and then tomorrow we can call as planned

You’d told him that you suspected the first day would be the hardest.

Not the goodbye (and that had been fucking painful) but the following day when they were apart.

Javi hates that you’re right.

It twists inside of him how much he loathes it—grateful that he gets to push some of his anger into repairing the side of the shed. Hammer meeting nail, again and again. Each time with more fury than is needed, only worrying after whether he’s done more damage to the shed post than pre.

"Mijo."

He doesn't find a judgemental look, but one filled with sympathy.

His pop not quizzing him, just handing him a beer. A cold one, droplets descending down the can, sliding across his palm and down his wrist—attempting to soothe the boiling blood in his veins.

“It’ll get easier.” His pop tugs his hat down, shielding his eyes, before staring off into the distance. “When me and your mama first began, we couldn’t see each other all the time either.”

Letting out a sigh, Javi grinds his teeth. A sea of biting comments lathered on his tongue, all set to pounce, to poison.

Instead, he kicks the ground, swallowing most of them back. “She wasn’t hundreds of miles away, though.”

“No,” his Pop says, clapping his hand on his back—both for comfort and likely stability. “But we didn’t have landlines, or tha' other thing you do on y’phone. The tapping."

The tapping.

He doesn't snort, even if it sits at the back of his throat. Burying it in the liquid that slides down his throat with ease.

"Come on, ‘need to head into town, and my truck is acting up.”

Javi doesn’t question it, why he’s the one sliding into the passenger seat of his own truck.

If he’d thought about it, he’d have asked why the truck was acting up or why Pop was driving instead of him. But he doesn’t—didn’t. Just let it happen, staring off as the shades of grass pass him by, fingers playing with the cap on the can, twisting and twisting it.

To fill the silence, he rolls the edges of the can around in his hands. Crunching the sides every now and again, making him wince from the noise.

Then, he finds himself staring at the fingerprints left in the dust from you touching his dash—eyes catching sight of a hair grip on the floor near his boot.

He’s rolling it in his fingers when they’re back on the road, silence smothering them until he watches his pop turn on the radio. As soon as it springs to life, it becomes desperate to try and cut through it. The broadcaster mumbles about heavy rain and increased traffic, but he’s lost in a sorrow of sadness all cast by the spell of a good week to care. The fog around him making it hard to see the wood through the trees, never mind the hope through the misery.

“Dios mio. More trucks passing through now since the bridge opened. Y’noticed, mijo? So many.”

“Hmm.”

Eyes fixed on the grip, the one more worn on one side than the other—imagining your face, the night when he’d watched you take them out, face fresh, one of his tees on your frame.

Then, because the world isn’t cruel enough, the song changes. The radio playing a game with him now, as well as everything else, as he lifts his head, trying to focus on the road. Hearing the soft thud of his pop’s fingers on the steering wheel, his jaw tightened as the lyrics washed over him. Faintly hearing you humming along with the chorus.

Because he heard the song in the diner with you.

Heard it on the radio one afternoon, then again in the bowling alley—how it wrapped its tune around the two of you.

“Heard our song today,” he says, fingers massaging his temple.

He's thankful his pop said he had plans, the quietness settling over the rest of the ranch.

Before he met you, he dreaded the nights he was left alone. His thoughts gearing up, ready to pounce. The minor differences he could have made if he took a step back and stared at the facts, how he should have noticed how deep the corruption was—how much Colombia was taking from him, bit by bit.

Now, he tries not to grin when his pop says he’s going out.

When he’s left alone, allowed full reign to talk as loud as he wants to you—rather than being huddled near the phone, whispering like a teenager.

“Our song?”

“Yeah.”

Javi can practically hear you smirk. “And how does that go, charmer?”

He’s not a singer. Not by a long shot, but he does his best. Humming the tune at first, softly singing the words from the chorus until he trails off.

You snort, before you try to muffle it in a cough.

“You tricked me.”

“Maybe. But, just because I wanted to hear you sing.”

Smirking, he pulls the phone from his ear—shaking his head—before replacing it back to hear you add:

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Fuck you, baby.”

Your laugh rips from you, hurtling down the phone right to his soul—making fireworks explode in his chest and warmth kiss his nerves.

Because now he can imagine what you look like. Likely head thrown back, eyes closed—nose scrunched a little as your hands grip onto something for leverage.

And it was beautiful. You’re beautiful—your laugh and your smile. Something he feels he should have said long before now. He’s about to rectify that, when he hears it merge into a sniffle—veering into tears and half-suppressed swallows before a noticeable little sob breaks through—as his throat dries instantly, closing.

Turning, he places his palm on the fall as he tries to keep his chest from tightening. The knot in his chest, the one he suspects is tied to you in some way, constricts, pulling taught around his lungs.

“I—I miss….”

You sniffle again, louder. “I've been looking forward to this all day,” you whisper, voice catching, words struggling to fall as sweetly as they usually do. “But, is it bad for me to say that phone calls aren’t the same now I’ve had the chance to be with you in person?”

Leaning his forehead against the kitchen wall, Javi wipes his chin. “Took the words outta my mouth, baby.”

He hears you chuckle, almost both heavily and heavenly, before you ask about his day.

He rambles because it’s easy too. You listen, lapping up every single thing. Hearing about his trip to town, his pop making jokes—trying, desperately, to crack through the mist that had descended.

“How was yours?”

Then you sigh, all tight. You tell him about Aish and her interview, before your voice softens as you begin whispering about the prep you’re doing for your interview. He’s about to comfort you, when you continue about the asshole you work alongside has been taken out for lunch by your boss and that you snagged your favourite pair of tights on a desk.

“But, enough about that—guess what I’m wearing?”

Smiling, he bites down on his knuckle, Javi lifting his head, groaning as he tries to think. “All of your clothes at once? Anything else might short-circuit my brain.”

“Won’t tell you then.”

“No. Please. Tell me, baby.”

He hears you move, and is almost sure he can hear you swallow. “You realise that you’re missing something, Javier?”

Fuck, the way you say his name. How it drips from your tongue. Laced in lust and swirling down the phone line to his brain.

He quickly tries to think of his washing, the piles he made—the attempted sorting. And it hits him. His eyes widened, head half-lifting, feeling his eye twitch.

“Fuck—“

“Yes. I’m sat in that. And underwear, of course.”

“Hermosa…”

His throat is dry, painfully so. Mind arranging an image of you from the days he spent with you. And fuck.

“Wasn’t sure this shade of pink was my colour, but I was wrong.”

Jutting his jaw, he closes his eyes—picturing the sight of you. The underwear he’d had the chance to peel off of you, the way it set against your skin—now, accompanied by his shirt on your arms. The buttons are likely undone, showing off more skin than he can currently process thinking about.

“It’s nice on my skin,” you whisper, all honeyed. “Be better on my floor.”

Clenching his fist, he bites his lip. “Baby…”

“Maybe I’ll show you one day.”

Snorting, he traces his teeth with his tongue. “You better. Now, tell me about the underwear.”

“Only if you can answer six across. Clue: now.”

Mouth parting, his jaw rolls to the side, eyes picking a spot on the wall. Thinking. And thinking.

“Want an extra clue?”

“An extra? You're spoiling me.”

He hears you giggle, low and in your throat. “It’s an Italian word. And, ‘I want to see you… blank—“

His eyes flick up, a smile spreading. “Pronto.”

“Correct,” you reply. “Seven words, silenced. You did this to me when you had your mouth on my—“

“Shushed,” he says quickly, fist clenching, trying to stare at the mark on the wall again, and not let the image of you populate in his head.

“You okay, baby?”

Gritting his teeth, he sighs. “You’re devious, you know that?”

“I think it’s your shirt. It’s making me… flirty.”

Grinning, he turns on the spot, back against the wall—head tilting up, eyes closing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too….” your tone softer, frayed at the edges. “I’m kinda glad I stole your shirt.”

“Me too. Means I get to see you to steal it back from you.”

“Off me.”

It comes out quickly—purposefully chosen, spilt.

Frowning, he opens his eyes. “What?”

“Off me. You’ll have to steal it from my body.”

Grasping the phone, breathing through his nose, letting out a murmured, “Fuck, baby,” under his breath.

AN: for all those wondering if they'll be together in person again, they will. i am a happily-ever-after kind of writer unless otherwise stated. but it was so important to me that they had a magical week, and then returned to their lives.

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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slytherinshua · 13 days

Text

MY HEART RETURNS

summary. your love is pursuing his dreams as a violinmaker in italy, leaving you to wait for his return. genre. slight angst. fluff. based on whisper of the heart. warnings. some crying. reader feels lost and alone and like she's not good enough :( not proofread. pairing. zhanghao x fem!reader. wc. 1.3k. request. no. a/n. tiánxīn = sweetheart btw. ofc hao is already perfect for the role of seiji cause he plays violin (also he looks like seiji fight me). for all the other writers out there (even tho i don't ever plan to get properly published) we all relate to shizuku so much :') her struggles are so relatable and i just love whisper of the heart so much i think its such a beautiful and underrated ghibli movie. divider by @/aquazero.

The night air nipped at your cheeks as thoughts swirled in your head. Hundreds of worries, feelings, and uncertainties followed you wherever you went, and all you could wish was to be back in high school when everything felt a bit easier. Back with Hao to occupy all your thoughts and in turn take your mind off of everything.

Sometimes you wondered if waiting was really worth it. You were doing your best to pursue your dreams, do well in your final year of university, and throw yourself and your work at different publishers, hoping that one liked you enough to give you a chance. But you felt like a constant failure in comparison to your boyfriend. You’d always thought opportunities were more beneficial than school. Hao only seemed to prove that to you.

He was working in Italy, getting valuable skills from the masters. You were still stuck in your hometown, going to the same university everyone else in your family had gone to, trapped in the same system. You wanted to get out, prove yourself, do something meaningful with your life. But did you even have the talent to? Were you even worth it?

On nights where your thoughts just wouldn’t leave you alone, you grabbed a handful of Hao’s letters and walked up the hill back to the spot where you used to watch the sunrise with him. You missed him more than anything. Without his presence, you felt lost. There was no one to ground you, no one to reassure you, no one to believe in your flimsy dreams.

You hadn’t received a new letter in a while, and you were starting to wonder if it was a post issue, or if Hao was too busy to write. You hoped you would get one soon. It was the start of Winter already, and a breeze blew past you, causing a chill to run up your spine. You hugged Hao’s old jacket closer on your body. It must be even colder in Italy…

You slid one of the old letters out from its envelope. You were always careful to keep everything intact. From the colourful wax seals to the elegantly written address, to the coarse texture of the fancy paper, everything about it was precious to you. Hao was always meticulous, and his presence could be felt from every detail of the card.

Tiánxīn, how are things back at home? Lonely.

How is your writing? Did you finish the last 3 chapters you were struggling to write? I finished the final draft last Saturday. Are you proud of me?

I’m doing well here, although I never stop missing you. At least one feeling is mutual.

It’s the beginning of Spring as I write this, and the flowers are starting to bloom. Every pink bud reminds me of you. How are you always so romantic, Zhang Hao?

I taught some kids how to hold a violin properly the other day— one of them almost dropped it. I swear my life flashed before my eyes. If they had broken it, I could’ve gotten kicked out. They don’t know that they’re handling a piece of wood worth thousands of dollars. As much as it scared me in the moment, spending time with the kids cheered me up. Childhood innocence is an endearing thing, don’t you think? It is. Is it bad that I wished you had gotten kicked out just so I could see you sooner? I want you to tell me everything about Italy with your own voice.

I’m starting to find beauty in things that used to annoy me. It’s a strange feeling, but I think I could get used to it. The flowers used to only make me sneeze, but now they’re a gentle reminder of who I’m living every day for. Children used to get on my nerves, but now I can only think of your baby pictures. I keep working hard every day hoping that I’ll get a break to come visit soon. I’ve been saving up for tickets. Hopefully before Winter, I’ll be back in your arms. It’s Winter now… I miss your arms around me.

Ever yours,

Hao

You could only sigh and blink back the tears that had formed on your waterline. Why did he make you miss him so much? You sniffed, from the emotions and from the cold. It was getting even later in the night, and while you didn’t want to leave your special spot, you also needed sleep.

When you got back to your cheap apartment, you sprayed some of Hao’s perfume on your pillow and changed into pyjamas. It was funny how much time went into hunting for the exact fragrance he wore; but you had been thankful for it every single day since you bought it. Any way you could to bring traces of him back to your home was worth it. You fell asleep hugging the pillow tightly and hoping that he would grace you in your dreams.

A soft puff of air hit your nose making you scrunch it up. It woke you out of your slumber, but not enough to open your eyes yet. You were in a confused bleary state trying to figure out where it came from. You definitely didn’t leave the fan on in the middle of Winter, so why…?

“Tiánxīn, wake up.”

You blinked your eyes open slowly, furrowing your eyebrows as the view came into focus. Light from the morning sun shone through the window, cascading down until it hit the side of a face. Hao’s face.

“Am I still dreaming?” You whispered. A lump formed in your throat at the thought that you were— you must be. How could he be right in front of you? He was still far away in Italy.

He shook his head, a smile splayed on his lips. He moved closer, his weight dipping down on the bed. You could only stare, memorising everything about him. His eyelashes fluttered as his gaze dropped to your hand and he reached to hold it. His hands were warm and the skin of his palm was soft, although his fingertips were roughened by calluses after years of playing strings. He cupped your cheek with his other hand, brushing his thumb against your skin.

“I missed you. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come visit.” He frowned slightly as he saw tears start to build in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, as if still deciphering whether he was actually real. It had truly been years since he had first gone for his apprenticeship and then got accepted full time to make violins and teach. Although you had communicated through letters, it could never compare to being with him like this.

“It’s okay.” You tried to steady your voice, force the lump in your throat down, blink back the tears. But you couldn’t with him right there.

“Don’t cry.” He wiped your tears carefully, his touch soft as always.

“Kiss me. Please?”

And he obliged. He would always do anything within his power to see you happy. If you told him one day to fly to the moon and bring you back a piece of it, he was sure he would find a way, just to see you smile. The feeling of kissing him again was indescribable. You’d forgotten how it felt to be kissed by his soft lips, how they melded with yours like a dream. As if you two were meant to be.

You knew you always were. Your love story, although it sometimes felt tragic, was like something out of a fairytale. You would never forget the lengths Hao went just to get your attention. How ambitious, determined, and caring he was. He was your constant motivation to keep striving to be better.

It was hard to live for your dream while being so far apart from him. Part of you knew that he would have to go back. Maybe in a month, maybe in only a week. Maybe sooner than that. Your heart would break once again saying goodbye to him.

But, for now, as he kissed you in the morning sunlight on your bed, you felt your heart healing from his touch. The long years away from him were a small price to pay for moments as precious as these.

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moodymisty · 2 months

Text

𝕴 𝖉𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖐, 𝖆𝖘 𝖑��𝖓𝖌 𝖆𝖘 𝖎𝖙’𝖘 𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖊

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1, Part 2 Part 3 Final

Author’s note: It's done! The full fic for the OG Bully Sicarius plotline is now finished. Obviously more in the future is probably inevitable including the love triangle with Titus, but for now we are finished <3

Summary: Cato Sicarius continues to fume over Primarch Guilliman's diplomat, unable to hide his disdain; But neither you or himself are wise to how he truly feels.

Relationships: Cato Sicarius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, Sexism/misogyny, Choking, Size difference, Toxic relationship,inadequate foreplay, Dubious consent

Word count:

"Lady Diplomat!"

A strong voice outside your small room calls for you by title, before entering just moments later. Your mouth was open to say he could enter, though it doesn't seem you needed to.

"Lord Primarch Guilliman has requested you."

You know the despite the implications of the word request, a request from a primarch is not one you delay or refuse. Containing most of your surprise, you nod and begin to stand up while brushing the front of your clothing straight.

"I'm on my way. Thank you."

The marine leaves now that his duty is done with nary a goodbye- not that you had expected one. You don't mind.

But the walk towards the bridge and thus towards Guilliman's personal study is a long one; A Gloriana class ship like this is more like a city than a ship, in multiple regards. It takes you almost twenty minutes to make your way there, just to make it across less than half of the ship's overall length. It could quite possibly take hours for one person to walk from one end to the other, you think during your monotonous walk.

Guilliman had mentioned once this ship being one of the last of it's kind; The Macragge's honour has served him for more than ten thousand years. A shame so few of it's class remain. To see a Gloriana class is a privilege very few beings outside of the astartes will ever get.

When you reach Guilliman's study, the guards posted just outside let you by without issue. You assume they were already expecting you, or are at least familiar enough with you to know you have reason to see their primarch regularly. As you enter he is already at attention and looking your way- seemingly having heard you well before you actually caught sight of him through the entryway. The door hisses shut as you speak up.

“What do you need of me, Lord Guilliman?”

Guilliman puts down the parchments he was reading with a bit of a fumble- the large gauntlets of his armor aren’t meant for delicate work. He manages to barely contain any audible frustration, but you can see on his face the fumble irritated him.

He's complained to you once before that the Armour of Fate has caused him, issues. More than once he's requested you- with no small amount of frustration and a bit of embarrassment, an emotion unfitting of a primarch - to do things requiring finer motor skill than he is capable of. At least for the time being, he assures.

“I know you already informed me of the effects of your trip to the planet's surface, but I wished to ask you about something tangentially related.”

You step a bit closer, neck already aching from looking up at the full height of a primarch.

“I heard from a few of my men that Sicarius was spotted- it was described to me as quite angrily - walking to your quarters during rest hours. I know that my conversation with him wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but I hope he didn’t further mess up matters. I know he has a habit of doing so with that mouth of his.”

Lying to a primarch feels wrong, shameful beyond belief, but you support yourself and your self worth by saying it's less a lie; Rather just leaving out bits of the truth.

“He did come to my quarters last night, but we... Talked things out.” Guilliman seems noticeably surprised, forehead wrinkling as he raises his eyebrows.

“That is… more than a bit surprising.” You nod and wring your hands. Guilliman's eyes are intently on you, and the feeling it gives you almost seems like it's going to give you a headache.

"It isn't the most amicable understanding," You shift on your heels, and hold in any sign of pain as your hips ache from the night before. Sicarius had really done a number on you. Up until a few hours before Guilliman called you, you still had cum from the night before leaking and staining your underwear, though now only the ache remains.

"But, perhaps we can exist in the same room now without there being issues." Again, leaving out a few important tidbits, but it's not a lie- you tell yourself again.

Guilliman lets out a sigh, though you don't know if it's of relief or something else.

“That is good then. I will send him with you then to your final return to the planet's surface as captain, and I hope that the peacemaking between the both of you holds water.”

You for once have confidence that it will, though perhaps for different reasons than your primarch has.

'Titus has never been anything past cordial. The most he's ever done is pat my shoulder once when I was talking to him. Whatever you saw Cato, it isn't there.'

Sicarius had his typical stoic expression, but you could see it wavered slightly. He looked away from you for a moment.

'I see. Then, perhaps I misjudged you.' He doesn't say he misjudged Titus; Though you know their problems go far deeper than just you. You looked at him with a soft expression as he stood just out of reach.

'But... why didn't you just say something?'

Perhaps in hindsight you should've known that Sicarius would've never spoken to you normally; He was still unnerved by your ascent in stature so close to Guilliman, as well as the fact that despite being well over 300 years old, the aloof marine wasn't in tune with his own emotions. At least not the ones that had no effect on how well he shot a bolter. To expect him to understand he was having romantic feelings for someone was a hilarious thing to even consider.

You take your leave from Lord Guilliman's study with a proper farewell, before you make your way to the same thunderhawk you'd taken previously; To a planet you'll hopefully be seeing for the last time. With the planet successfully annexed into Ultramar, work has been steady to turn it into a spaceport able to handle a large amount of goods needed for Guilliman's war effort.

You're glad it's over, and without wasting too much bolter ammo.

Walking your way to the landing bay you're almost at the entrance when you can see Sicarius walking towards you. You can't help but smile ever so slightly at him, but his face doesn't crack in the absolute slightest.

Sicarius is an Ultramarine paramount; His reputation is of utmost importance. If you watch him, ask him, or question him, you'll never get a hint that there's anything different between the both of you.

'Then...' He thought about everything for a moment, all that's happened in such a short period of time. 'Not a single soul can know about this.'

You would prefer your private affairs be private anyhow, but you knew well that Sicarius has much more riding on this than yourself. You nodded at him.

'I won't complain.'

He noticeably let out a breath of air, his shoulders raising and lowering considerably. Sicarius suddenly turned to look at your door for a moment, almost as if he heard something you hadn't. Though moments later you heard the heavy footsteps of marines; His keener hearing probably caught the sound earlier than your ears could.

'I should leave, then.' You smiled at him, the sweetest one you think you'd even given the man, apart from your first ever meeting.

'Goodnight then, Cato.'

Instead of leaving right away however he came closer, standing at your bedside and raising a hand towards you awkwardly. It hung there for a moment- frozen - before he finally laid it on your shoulder, and leaned to give you a small kiss on the crown of your head.

He left moments after.

Ever since, while he is a master at keeping that neutral, stoic astartes expression, you still see his thoughts leak through; the sad look in his eyes as he’s forced to leave you for even a short while, or the oddly sweet things he'll whisper in your ear moments before someone enters your area. He's changed attitude so drastically, in such a short amount of time. But only in the utmost privacy.

Outside of it you are simply his charge, one forced upon him by Guilliman's demand.

And as such he barely even looks your way as you enter the thunderhawk, sitting down across from him. You look up from your lap moments later when you hear one of the astartes strapped in near you speak in a lighter tone of voice.

The space marines tend to change tone whenever they speak to you, compared to each other; it’s kind of interesting. Sicarius was one of the only marines that didn't do it, even Guilliman does it at times.

"New dress, my lady?"

Ventris says, crossing his arms. You open your mouth, but a voice cuts you off before you have a chance to let a single word leave your throat.

"Do not call her that."

Sicarius looks at his the other marine with firm set gaze and a less than amused expression, clearly leaving no room for Ventris to even consider fighting back.

"She is not your lady, she is your charge."

The freshly scolded marine looks away from Sicarius, and back to you. You could swear the marine rolled his eyes, but you don't point it out, lest you get him in trouble; It will remain your little secret with him.

"It is. And it was fun to be your lady for the moment it lasted, Lord Ventris."

Ventris gives you a light nod before finding something interesting on his bolter to look at, and you turn your gaze to Sicarius and notice the odd expression on his face. But before long it's back to his neutral stoicism.

You suppose he's just jealous by nature. It's fun to prod, though you know doing so will get you in more than a bit of trouble with him the next time he has time to scold you.

The entire trip to the surface of the planet is silent other than that momentary conversation; Sicarius doesn't often let his men casually chatter. Not that they are very prone to it, other than perhaps Titus and Ventris.

Once the thunderhawk is just about to land Sicarius magnetizes his helmet to his thigh, then rubbing a gauntlet against his hair. He addressees his men moments later with a tiresome, dull tone.

"Let us finish this swiftly. I've grown quite tired of this backwater planet."

While the other marines can’t help but agree that this has proven more than boring to them, they’ve proven subtle about it given the planet’s logistical importance. And Guilliman's insistence.

"Negotiations will be finished after this meeting," You say. Sicarius looks to you but says nothing.

He waits until the noise of the thunderhawk's engines cutting blows out most noise, and his men eagerly begin to walk down the rear ramp. Sicarius puts a hand on your shoulder to hold you back from following them and leans down somewhat close to your ear. You can feel the stubble on his jaw scratch against your skin.

"I will be holding you to that, my lady."

You look at him with a displeased face and watch as he leans back upright, returning to his usual stoicism.

That stoicism remains for your entire outing, every single thing goes according to plan, and you return to the Macragge's Honour happy that this whole adventure is concluded.

As you leave the thunderhawk however, a marine approaches you with a piece of parchment that seems out of place in the cold ceramite of his gauntlet.

“Lady diplomat!.” He approaches before stopping, giving the proper acknowledgement to Sicarius who stands beside you, only just a tad closer than what would be deemed appropriate.

Astartes don't have the best understanding of personal space; The perfect excuse.

“Lady diplomat, Primarch Guilliman wrote this and requested this be given to you before he went for his meditation.”

You take it from his hands and begin to read as the ultramarine takes his leave, and Cato watching your expression with keen interest.

I write you this short note because in our short conversation, I had failed to wish you congratulations on your hard earned efforts when we spoke not long ago. You’ve done well for Ultramar, and for myself.

I also wish to tell you that you are a terrible liar.

Keep your relationship with Sicarius subtle, more subtle than it is currently, and out of Ultramarine business, and I will elect to turn the other way regarding it. Merely because it keeps him out of my own hair.

Good luck.

You look away from the message and fold it back up, holding it tightly in your hands. Sicarius raises his voice.

"What?" You look up and give him a nervous smile, and his brow quickly furrows in confusion and a bit of anger at your lack of explanation.

"...What does it say?"

You purse your lips, and debate how to best break the news that his primarch has already figured out that the esteemed captain of Second Company is sleeping with his favorite diplomat.

"Um, I'll tell you later."

#cato sicarius x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting #getting bullied by cato sicarius timeline

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littleplantfreak · 8 days

Text

A Candle’s Memory

Pairing: Umemiya x Reader

Cw: Fluff and slight hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1782

I did this as an exercise that turned into me writing for longer than I was supposed to because I felt sad about leaving it unfinished. The Prompts were candle wick or an old flame rekindled (I did both) and the theme was : Preservation in preparation for the coming winter, we try to hold onto the last bit of warmth. Write about letting go, or not wanting to.

Oh! Thank you @birinboom, min skat and my lovely beta reader. I wouldn’t have posted it without you 😘

Thunk

Snow hitting your window snaps your mind out of the book you were reading and breaks the immersion completely, causing more anger than fear. You know the face that pops up outside the window immediately as you give him a bored look. For a 12 year old, Umemiya's more dependable than most adults, dragging himself out of bed at 6:00AM to shovel the older neighbors' sidewalks. His cheeks and nose are stained red, and his sniffling causes the window to fog up.

When you crack the window halfway, the warmth is sucked out of your room, the wind blowing the candle you were using as a reading light out. Dog earring the page of your book, you reach out as your hands cover his cheeks, hoping to bring him some form of warmth. You really have to pity his poor skin with the way he gives it no more care than to wrap a scarf around his neck and sometimes bury his face deep in it to keep away frostbite.

"Whatcha readin' this time?" He asks, feeling the blood return to his face now that there's warm skin over his own frigid cheeks. The candle blown out stares him down while the wax cools as if faulting him for its death.

"Treasure Island. You should read it after I'm done." Because he should. You know his taste, and this is something he can get behind. Pirates and adventure for a boy who's got an equally adventurous dream roiling in his bones. He never asks what it's about, and you never tell him, both content at the surprise.

"I'll pick it up on my way to school," Is all he says to that before taking the matches off the side of the table and relighting your candle. He hops down a little ways, setting out to do at least two more sidewalks before he has to go back home and get dressed.

This routine continues until it stops snowing. Or at least you would think it would. He doesn't have any real reason to come back once it's warm enough, you'd think, but when he shows up on a morning without snow, you're a bit confused.

"I saw the candle going again and decided to stop by." He says immediately. It's still cold, but his face is much less irritated by it without precipitation.

"Are you...on a walk?"

"Something like that!" He says leaning into the window, giving no concern over how close he gets to you or the burning candle he almost knocks over. It'd be silly to say you didn't have a crush on him, especially with his constant morning attention and how his smile seemed to light up your room more than your candle ever could.

His eyes go to the book you're reading once again. This time the cover reads Hamlet. When he meets your eyes again, you let out a breath you'd been holding.

"This one is a tragedy, so you might not like it as much." It's more than you've ever said about one of the books before.

"Do you like it?" He asks, gray eyes dancing between looking at your bedhead and the pretty eyes that caught his attention the first time he saw you through the window.

"I do."

"I'll give it a try." He shows a softer smile, less thousand-watt and more warm sunny day. You're not sure if he can tell just how breathless it makes you when he does that. Surely he has to know. The thought of him smiling like that makes your heart twist in an unpleasant way, but you'll be damned if you ever let that monster win against showing him nothing but the smile you return to him.

The one morning you wish he'd come, he doesn't. The dread you feel lays heavy like a rock in your throat as the moving van comes that afternoon, dragging you away from your window. Before you leave, you look from the outside where he'd stand, seeing from his point of view what it looked like sans burning candle. Surely it must look more comforting with the flame and its golden halo.

When you think about him coming back to the dark empty frame, no longer allowed access, the tears you thought would be so easy to hold back fall painfully. The bookmark you lay out on the windowsill that your parents bought you as a birthday present sits limp and dead, and you wonder if it'll blow away before he finds it.

It does not blow away before he finds it, luckily. The unlucky thing is that you're gone. He's been kept away by a fever he didn't think would get worse after the first day. Try as he might've to meet you, the room spun, and he quickly and often became accustomed to the toilet those three days he was bedridden. The bookmark had small pressed petals and a pink tassel to match them. He holds it tight, looking at the window and feeling like it was a closed door.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

When you move back to your hometown, you're well out of high school. The town has changed for the better as you walk through, seeing the community flourish with potted plants in front of stores no longer kicked and smashed, and kids walking together, no nervous glances to the alleyways anymore. You've got an inkling as to who's responsible for the change, but you brush aside thoughts of him even now, the nostalgia keeping you from reading any books you'd shared back then. You'd learned fast back then that rereading them only caused stormy waves to wash over you, soaking you in a delicate sadness.

There are plenty of books in the world. A few are off limits. If you saw him, though, would it allow you to read them again, the way you so desperately wish to? Sometimes you wonder if it's the books you miss or the interest Umemiya gave to both you and the pages.

You buy your old house from your parents, who never got around to selling it. It's run down and dusty, and the rooms are the same as ever. You can't bring yourself to take any room but your own from back then, setting it up differently except for the desk against the window.

The old scentless candle is now replaced with a sweet lemon one that you allow to burn while the window stays open well into the later evening. The lack of scent back then was only due to your parents who weren't pleased with your staying up past bedtime, hours into the next morning, and then sleeping when you got home from school until you started the cycle once more.

The house feels better now that you've got it clean, at least. There are carpets to rip out, and leaks to check. The backyard is overgrown, and the light in the shed refuses to work, but this is home. It feels more like home than the house you'd moved to all those years ago.

The next day, you walk back to your house from the library with a stack of three books nestled close to your chest. You can't help your eyes flickering to the large figure making his way to the door you've just come out of, and when you hold it for him, you're more sure than ever.

"Umemiya Hajime, is that you?" you ask, voice a little more enthused than you'd wanted it to be. He looks once, then to the door before he double takes. You can see the cogs turning in his mind, with the cutest pout you didn't know a grown man could make. Your name falls from his mouth like a question. "The one and only," you say, and your smile turns fond, remembering just how much tinier he used to be. You were always taller than him, at least from your seat at the desk, but now he towers above you.

"It's really you," he breathes for a moment, looking at the differences and picking them out easily. He feels like it was just yesterday that he leaned too close to your candle, singeing the end of his scarf by accident. He remembers the look of panic when you realized he was on fire and started smacking at him with your book. You'd ended up having to buy that one from the library due to the soot and small scorches to the cover from your rescue. He still has it on a shelf in his room, insisting he'd pay you back, but you said it'd be a late Christmas present despite it being closer to Valentine's day than anything. When he brought it up back then, you'd waved it off, stuttering something about how it was more about intention than actual calendar dates.

"Are you visiting?" He asks, not having heard that you were around from anyone, but you always were a bit more introverted.

"I bought my old house and moved back actually. There was a job with a 20-minute commute from here, so I figured it'd be great to be somewhere familiar. I didn't know Makochi changed this much." He sees the crinkle of your eyes and the smile you throw to him when you say the last sentence, knowing you've always been fully aware of his dreams. Seeing that was worth more than any praise. The look was praise itself, maybe, given how it filled his chest with a warmth that had him laying a hand there as his fingers played with the neck of his shirt as he tried hard not to fist the fabric.

"If I'd known, I would've stopped by sooner."

"You know now, so stop by whenever you want," you laugh, because years ago, he would never have been shy about it. The book you see he's holding has something pink attached. A memory surfaces, spanning over years of living in a separate, different place, only to settle right where a story ended. At least you thought it had ended, but maybe you'll have to crack it open again just to be sure.

"This time, you can come in through the door." You walk off with a wave, thinking about lighting that lemon scented candle again when you get home. You let it burn long enough last time for the memory to shape the wax into a nice, even pool, which will help the wick burn slow and steady once you relight it.

#mari writes #umemiya hajime x reader #wind breaker x reader #im never quite close enough to the theme as i want to be but i think it was decent enough

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fairysluna · 1 year

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let the light in.

Modern!AU — Disaster was the word that described your past relationship with Aemond, but once you meet again after a year it's impossible for you not to come back to him.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING - Aemond Targaryen x Reader.

TAGS/TW - angst, slight fluff, cheating, love affairs, mentions of a toxic relationships. if something is missing let me know!

NOTE - this is not the best thing in the world at all, but I've been struggling to write and this came out of the blue and now I'm posting it bc why not. hope this will be the thing that finally ends my writer's block. On the other hand, I made a side blog ( @by-fairysluna ) exclusvely to repost my fics, so you can follow me there and activate the notifications🤍

WORD COUNT - 1.5k

He was sitting right under the dim light of a malfunctioning bulb inside the coffee shop that you both always went to. His long platinum hair, shiny as always, was falling graciously down his back as making a contrast against the black leather of the jacket you once gave him. You checked the time on your watch; quarter to three - you had fifteen minutes to regret this, to turn around and disappear from his life like you did a year ago.

You knew this was a terrible idea. His mere presence was enough to make you fold like a piece of paper, to make you fall for him all over again. It was a vicious circle from which you could not escape. Though you knew you did not want to escape it either.

The feeling in your gut was making you sweat as your hands were constantly trying to find comfort in the bag strap hanging from your shoulder, the memories of how things ended last time flooded your mind. You noticed how he was moving his leg up and down. Perhaps he was as anxious as you, perhaps he was just being impatient as usual; whatever the reason was, you could not help but to feel this invisible string pulling you towards him like a huge magnet. You tried to ignore it, to cut the string and ran away in the cowardly act of weakness, but your legs were not eager to respond to what your brain was commanding them to do, finding failure in an activity so easy as just walking.

When you finally found the courage to escape what could become an awkward situation, a person walked right beside you and opened the door in front of you. The doorbell sounded, carrying all the attention of the clients towards you standing behind the crystal clear glass that did nothing to hide your presence from Aemond’s eye.

“Shit,” you murmured, keeping yourself together as you forced yourself to enter the place now that you have been busted by the same eye that you were trying to ignore. He immediately stood up; a moment so sudden that the coffee cups on the table were spilled on the white tablecloth beneath them. He did not seem to care enough to clean right away, he just gave it a quick glance before his attention was all over your slowly walk towards the table.

He wrapped his arms around you as soon as he was close enough to do so, his face burying in your neck as if he was meeting with some old dear friend instead of the girl whose heart he broke. The awkwardness was not easy to hide as you doubted to return the gesture, trying so hard not to breathe in his scent, for you knew that would be your perdition.

“Is good to see you,” he said as a greeting as he pulled out from the hug and looked at your face with a soft smile that brought thousands of flashbacks to your mind. “Hope you don’t mind I ordered something for you,” he pointed at the table, two cups and two pieces of a strawberry pie. “Tea, two of sugar right?”

You knew you had no reason to get excited for the gesture and for the fact that he remembered how you liked your tea, but it was impossible for you to keep it together after such a sweet gesture. You almost sighed as you sat down.

“You remembered it,” you said, trying to hide your smile.

“Of course,” he simply replied, as if that gesture was nothing more than an act of politeness. It killed you.

There was a silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but it left you with the feeling that something was missing. Perhaps you missed his voice; how softly it sounded whenever he mentioned your name, or those sweet words that would make you forget all about his bad temper. The kind of sweetness that he only reserved for you, the one that made you feel unique between his comforting arms. As if you were the only one in his heart.

“How you’ve been?” You asked, trying to break the ice, indulging a tedious small talk that neither of them was interested to have.

He went straight to the point.

“I’ve missed you terribly,” he murmured, a low and trembling whisper that could have been easily mistaken as a cough. A slight shame was present on his voice as he confessed his heart’s wishes without even looking at your eyes. “I’ve been miserable without you.”

He seemed to be embarrassed about them, but it was impossible for you not to feel your heart beating fast as his words had taken you by surprise. You pressed your lips in a thin line, looking at his hand and feeling all your excitement fading away as the golden band was still wrapped around his finger just to prove that he still belonged to someone else. But, as your mind was screaming to look away and leave, your heart begged you to grab his hand and take him back.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied, covering his hand with yours, as if it was a desperate attempt to hide the truth of your relationship with him. “I hate trying to convince myself to hate you.”

A small smile was seen on his face, covering the guilt behind his eye. He knew this was wrong, he knew that putting you in this situation a second time was a death sentence after being witness to how things ended, but he couldn’t help it. No matter the consequences, he needed you back. He needed the sense of freedom only you could provide him. Call it selfishness, or greediness; you didn't even care as long as you gained his love again.

Aemond finally glanced at you, and you felt like everything was worth it. The tears, the heartaches, the shame, the turmoils; you could endure all of it just to have a taste of his lips. Suddenly, all you could think of was the paradise in which he coaxed you, and all your doubts and fears left as soon as you felt your heart beat again because of him.

“I’m sorry for how things ended, you didn’t deserve any of that,” he apologized, the sincerity reflected in the way he spoke. His eye traced a path between your eyes and your lips.

“The past is past,” you said in an attempt to console his anguish, “and, to be honest, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“You brought the light into my life,” he confessed, and you felt your heart swollen with emotion. “And I didn’t know it until you left.”

A smile appeared on your face, enlightening the darkness of a rainy day, causing shivers down his back as his eyes shined with the glow of fondness.

“I would hate to leave you in the dark,” you replied at his words, stealing a soft chuckle from those lips that you wished to kiss once more. “I can’t hate you, Aemond,” she confessed, “not when loving you feels so good.”

He sighed, “You still love me after everything?” His voice came out as insecure, as if it was hard for him to find truth in her words.

She thought about it for a second, trying to think about their bad times as if she was forcing herself to back up and avoid all the pain that she knew they would bring to each other, but all she could think of was those quiet evenings at her apartment. A soft Beatles’ tune playing in the background as they talked about their day while soft touches were felt in her bare skin. Heaven on Earth; their own version of oasis.

“How couldn’t I?” She simply responded.

They knew their lowest points were hell, but they refused to think about them as they found each other’s touch again. They convinced themselves that it was worth it to try it again.

“Let me come in again, Aemond,” she whispered, leaning closer to him. “I know you need me as much as I do. I know you want me too.”

He pretended to hesitate, but he knew what his intentions were as soon as he sent you that text which brought you back to him. Your pleading eyes were all he needed to see to be completely convinced.

“I want you,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss in the back of it, smiling as he noticed the spark in your pretty eyes, clouded by devotion.

That was all you needed to feel whole again.

As the evening approached between gentle touches and soft kisses, you came to realize that the part of your heart that you thought was missing has returned to you in the shape of the man you hopelessly loved. The only one who could make you feel alive again.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

#house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #modern hotd #modern au #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen angst #hotd angst #hotd x y/n #hotd x you

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alienpossession · 10 months

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@max-the-many asked me to join his 30 days one word prompt, we'll see how many stories I can consistently post.

Body a Day 1: Smoke

Raymond grew up in a small town with barely any nightlife whatsoever. His first two year in university, thousand of miles away from his family brought a sense of freedom and exploration for him.

He started to workout, he hang out with people more often rather than being the supposed bookworm that he is, going back to his dorm late, typical college students in their early years. But he's not just doing that, he's also enjoying the freedom to explore his sexuality, which led the bi-curious man to countless dates with random people he met online and even just passed by in campus.

It was that way until around 6 months ago. He's been exclusively going out with Fred, a black man 10 years his senior, that swooned the impressionable Raymond with his easy-going yet domineering personality ever since they met. It's been a week since the last time they went on a date followed with some kinky bed time as Fred got some work to do that required him to travel out of state. But, Fred is back in the city now and the couple is about to rekindle their paused lust, which caused Raymond some hard time to concentrate with his classes as the 20 years old consistently distracted by his own erection

When Raymond walked into Fred's apartment, lulling jazz and a rather potent smokiness filled the room. Is Fred smoking? Raymond never really pay attention to it, but pretty sure he's not. Maybe he's not that frequent of a smoker? Or maybe this is just a new habit Fred picked up?

"Hey babe, I'm here. I have dinner with me," said Raymond while putting the Chinese takeaway at the table

"Come here, baby. I have a surprise for you," said Fred as the door of his room closed and caused his voice sounded like muffled by something

Raymond welcomed by the sight of Fred already sprawled out naked on his bed, a rolled joint in his right hand already lit. Tempted, Raymond smirked but Fred just went straight to the point

"Strip, and join me in this bed,"

Without hesitation, Raymond did so. Fred then motioned his finger for Raymond to ger closer. Fred then instructed Raymond to open his mouth and inhale as much smoke as Fred himself exhaled.

Slightly hesitated at first, Raymond followed through and coughed a little in the process. Yet Fred ordered him to keep all of the smoke in him, so he did.

Not even a minute later, Raymond convulsed wildly until he almost dropped to the floor. He tried screaming for help but his mouth only gargled unintelligible noises while all his muscle contracted. His eyes turned white and he seemingly lost his consciousness for a split second while Fred just eagerly watched without any trace of being panicked whatsoever.

After another solid minute, Raymond calmed down and smiled to Fred

"Thanks for this fine selection, sir. Shall we continue? I think this body is ready to be used to store all the Queen's egg if it weighed on you for too long,"

"Well, that's exactly what I'm about to do. One week is tough enough carrying all this, you'll help me spread some of them,"

"Certainly sir, I'm all yours,"

#body a day #alien possession #male possession #boyfriend possession #alien expansion

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hermitw · 2 months

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Tumblr pls stop suggesting posts wishing that Sukuna will suffer as much as Yuuji when Sukuna has suffered more than anyone in jujutsu kaisen, I beg (being an unwanted child, a slave, an object, etc).

Maybe I'll go through and make a master post to link the history bc a lot of it is easy to miss (I suck at finding posts on my own blog), you have to be familiar with trauma and history and translations but everything harmful sukuna has done was against his own will or a trauma response. Sukuna is just trying to grasp for his own autonomy. he's constantly being restrained, neglected, and challenged. He doesn't even want to reverse the roles. He exists for leisure like Nanami, he just wants peace. To be left alone. And it's too much to ask for.

And if Yuuji had actually listened to Sukuna (he listens to everyone and matches their energy but not the spirit who is trapped in his body, so it's weirdly out of character) then Yuuji's suffering could have been almost entirely avoided. They could have had a symbiotic relationship.

Kenjaku thanked Yuuji's friend from the occult club for being good to his son - and Yuuji's grandpa saying "you had it too easy". The thing is that for Yuuji to be a functional cage for Sukuna, they couldn't be able to relate to each other. Yuuji spent his life with superhuman strengths, but he blended in. He was never demonized nor deified for his differences. Yuuji was a loner by choice, and he had the freedom to choose his own path. To uninvite himself from school clubs, the strength to beat up bullies that didn't even involve him.

Even the choice to consume Sukuna's finger had to come from Yuuji's own free will - and despite the manipulation that Kenjaku put into this (having Mimiko and Nanako plant it at the school, etc), it was a choice that Yuuji made on his own. He wasn't really coerced into it - Fushiguro told him not to do it. Yuuji consented to sharing his body, whereas Sukuna did not.

it seems like irl Sukuna has a shrine and is remembered as a hero, but regarded more as a criminal by the government. Sounds a lot like Gojo. And if the higher ups were still around a thousand years later, how do you think he would be remembered? Or spoken of in history lessons to sorcerers?

I've already rambled or reblogged everything that I have to say but ughhhhh

Yuuji is the last person who could teach Sukuna about love. He might be capable of a listen-no-jutsu, though it's kind of late for that.

#Light manga spoilers I guess?#Nothing major #jujutsu kaisen #jjk manga #sukuna #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen analysis #jujutsu kaisen manga #ryomen sukuna #jjk theory #jjk #kenjaku #jjk spoilers

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somethingclevermahogony · 5 months

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A Recipe for Daropaka and a Korithian Meal

Hello everyone! (More than) A few days ago I said that, as a way to celebrate reaching 200 followers that I would make one of the dishes from the setting of my WIP. I did something similar for 100 followers which you can see here. This time around I put up a poll to see what dish you all would like to see based on the favorite dishes of my OCs. You voted for Otilia's favorite food, a cheesecake (Daropaka) from the land of Korithia.

However because I felt a bit bad about how long it took me to get to this and because I needed to make something for dinner anyway, I prepared an entire Korithian meal, specifically the last dinner Otilia ate before she left her homeland.

I will give a short description and some history for each component of the meal and will also provide recipes. These recipes come specifically from the Korithian city-state of Kalmanati.

BIG POST ALERT

The diet of Korithians is highly reliant on cereals, grapes, and olives. Barley is the most commonly consumed cereal and is used in the bread of most commoners. However, Kalmanati is famed for the quality of its wheat, and particularly among the wealthy, wheat is the cereal grain of choice. Legumes (Lentils, peas, vetch, beans, etc), vegetables (Cabbage, carrots, lettuce, seaweeds, artichokes, asparagus, onions, garlic, cucumber, beets, parsnips, etc.) and fruits/nuts (pomegranate, almond, fig, pear, plum, apple, dates, chestnuts, beechnuts, walnuts, rilogabo(Kishite regalu "Sunfruit"), bokigabo (Kishite botagalu "Northern fruit), etc.) also make up a significant portion of the Korithian diet, with meat (Cattle, lamb, pig, goat, goose, duck, horned-rabbit, game) and fish typically filling a relatively minor role except for in the diets of wealthy individuals (like Otilia).

Vinegar, oil, and garlic appear in almost all Korithian dishes and are an essential aspect of the Korithian palate.

Recipes below the cut!

The components of the meal are as follows:

Daropaka: (Korithian: Daro = cheese, paka = cake)

Karunbarono: (Korithian: Karun = meat, baro = fire (barono = roasted) )

Pasrosi Diki: (Korithian: Pasrosi = fish(es), Diki = small)

Psampisa : (Korithian: Psamsa = bread, episa = flat)

Akuraros : (Korithian: Akuraros = cucumber)

Ewisasi : (Korithian: Ewisasi = olives)

Funemikiwados: (Korithian: Funemiki = hill (mountain diminutive), wados = oil/sauce)

Wumos: (Korithian: Wumos = wine)

Daropaka aka Awaxpaka aka Korithian Cheesecake

Daropaka is a popular dessert in Korithia, however its origins predate Korithia by several thousand years.

The dish originates from a race of forestfolk living on the Minosa, known as the Awaxi. The Awaxi were a tall and powerful race, some rivaling even demigods in size. Aside from their size the Awaxi were also easily identifiable by the third eye which sat on their forehead and the porcupine like quills which grew from their shoulders, sometimes called the Awaxi mantle.

The Awaxi were a primarily pastoralist civilization, living in small semi-temporary communities where they raised cattle and goats. They are credited with inventing cheese.

The first humans that the Awaxi came into contact with were the Arkodians. The Arkodians introduced the Awaxi to metallurgy, and in exchange the Arkodians were given knowledge of the cheesemaking process. This early form of cheese was called darawa (Korithian: Daro) and was typically made from cow's milk and vinegar, the resulting cheese being soft and crumbly, similar to a ricotta.

Unfortunately peace would not last. The Awaxi settled disagreements and debates often through duels, rather than through war. While quite skilled duelists, their culture had no reference for strategy in battle and lacked the proper skills to fend off the organized assault from imperialistic Arkodians. The Awaxi were eventually driven to extinction, though they still appear as monsters in Korithian myth.

The Arkodians themselves would later fall, destroyed by the Kishites, however many of their recipes, including their recipe for cheesecake, would be passed down to their descendants, the Korithians.

Recipe

(Note that Korithia has no distinct set of measurements nor are recipes recorded. Recipes are typically passed down orally and differ greatly between regions and even families. Adjust ingredients to one's own liking) (Also note that this is not like a modern cheesecake, as it utilizes a ricotta like cheese the texture will not be as smooth and it doesn't use eggs as chickens have not yet been introduced to Korithia)

The Cheese

1/2 Gallon of Whole Cow or Goats Milk

1 Pinch of Sea Salt

2 Bay leaves

2 Tablespoons of White Vinegar

1 Large Ripe Pear

6 Tablespoons Honey

2 Tablespoons White Wheat Flour

1 Tablespoon Rilogabo Juice (substitute 1:1 Orange and Lemon juice)

The Crust

1 Cup White Wheat flour

Water, Warm

1 Pinch of Sea salt

The Topping

1 Sprig Rosemary

3 tablespoon honey

2 tablespoon rilogabo juice (see above)

1 Large pear (optional)

Fill a pot with milk. Stir in salt and add bay leaves. Heat over medium heat until milk registers around 190 F, do not allow to boil. Look for slight foaming on the surface, when the temperature has been reached, remove the bay leaves and add vinegar, the curds will begin to form immediately, stir to fully incorporate vinegar without breaking curds. Stop.

Take the pot off of the heat and cover, allow it to sit for 15 minutes.

Using cheesecloth, a fine mesh strainer or both, separate the curds from the whey. Allow the curds to cool and drain off excess liquid.

Preheat the oven to 410 F or 210 C. Grease the bottom and sides of an 8 inch cake pan with olive oil.

While cheese is draining, make the crust. Knead the white wheat flour with a pinch of salt and warm water for about 15-20 minutes, until obtaining a smooth consistency. Roll a thin circular sheet larger than the cake pan. Lay the dough inside, trim off any dough which hangs over the edge of the pan.

Skin and seed 1 large pear, using either a mortar and pestle or a food processor, break the pear down into a paste or puree, there should be no large visible chunks.

Combine drained cheese, 6 tbsp honey, pear puree, flour, and rilogabo juice. Using a food processor or other implement combine ingredients until a smooth texture is achieved. Taste and add honey accordingly

Pour the mixture into the pan, careful not to exceed the height of the crust. Top with a sprig of rosemary and place into the oven.

Cook for 25-30 minutes or until the filling has set and the surface is golden.

Make the topping by combining 3 tablespoons of honey and the remaining rilogabo juice.

Remove cake from the oven and pour the topping over the surface. Allow the cake to cool

Serve warm, cold, or room temperature with fresh fruit.

Karunbarono aka Roasted Meat

Cooking meat on skewers is a staple of Korithian cuisine, so much so that in certain regions the metal skewers or kartorosi, can be used as a form of currency. Meat is typically cooked over an open fire or on portable terracotta grills, though it is not unheard of to use a large beehive shaped oven or baros. The majority of the meat eaten by the lower classes comes in the form of small game such as rabbit or sausages made from the scraps of pork, beef, mutton, poultry, and even seafood left after the processing of more high-class cuts. The chicken has not yet been properly introduced to the islands, though some descendants of pre-Calamity chickens do exist, though they in most cases have drastically changed because of wild magic. Animals are rarely eaten young, lambs for example are almost never eaten as their potential for producing wool is too valuable. Most animals are allowed to age well past adulthood, except for in special circumstances. The practice of cooking meat in this style is prehistoric stretching back far before Korithia or Arkodai. What is newer however is the practice or marinading the meat before cooking it, this is a Korithian and later Kishite innovation.

Recipe

1 lb Mutton (meat used in this recipe), beef, lamb, venison, or horned-rabbit meat (in order to achieve this it is suggested to use wild hare meat in combination with pork fatback) chopped into bite sized pieces

4 Tablespoons Plain Greek Yogurt

4 Tablespoons Dry Red wine (Any dry red will work, for this recipe I used a Montepulciano d'abruzzo but an Agiorgitiko would work perfectly for this)

3 Tablespoons Olive Oil

4 Cloves of Garlic roughly chopped

1 Small onion roughly chopped

1 sprig fresh thyme

1 sprig fresh rosemary

1 tsp sea salt

1 tsp black pepper

1/2 tsp ground cumin

Gather and measure ingredients

Combine everything into a large bowl and stir, making sure that all pieces of meat are covered in the marinade.

Cover and allow meat to sit, preferably in the fridge for 2 hours or up to overnight.

Well the meat is marinating, if using wooden or bamboo skewers, soak in water for at least one hour to prevent burning.

Preheat the oven to 400 F or roughly 205 C. Or if cooking an open fire, allow an even coal bed to form.

Remove meat from the fridge, clean off excess marinade including any chunks of garlic or onion

Place meat tightly onto the skewers making sure that each piece is secure and will not fall off.

Brush each skewer with olive oil and additional salt and pepper to taste, optionally add a drizzle of red wine vinegar.

Place on a grate either in the oven with a pan below it to catch drippings or else over the fire. Allow to cook for 10-20 minutes depending on how well you want your meat cooked (less if using an open fire) Check every five minutes, flipping the meat after each check.

Remove from the oven and serve immediately.

Pasrosi Diki aka Little Fishes

Despite living by the sea, fish makes up a surprisingly small part of most Korithians' diet. The most valuable fish typically live far away from shore, where storms and sea monsters are a serious threat to ships. Much of the fish that is eaten are from smaller shallow water species, freshwater species, or shellfish. Tuna, swordfish, sturgeon, and ray are considered delicacies, typically reserved for the wealthy. Marine mammals such as porpoise are eaten on rare occasions, typically for ceremonial events. Pike, catfish, eel, sprats, sardines, mullet, squid, octopus, oysters, clams, and crabs are all consumed by the poorer classes. Sprats and sardines are by far the most well represented fish in the Korithian diet, typically fried or salted, or even ground and used in sauces. This particular recipe makes use of sprats. Unlike their neighbors in Baalkes and Ikopesh, Korithians rarely eat their fish raw with the exception of oysters.

Recipe

(Note that unlike modern recipes using whitebait, these are not breaded or battered as this particular cooking art has not yet been adopted in Korithia, though it is in its infancy in parts of Kishetal)

10-15 Sprats (other small fish or "whitebait" can also be used)

2 quarts of olive oil (not extra virgin)

Sea salt to taste

Black Pepper to Taste

Red Wine Vinegar to taste

Gather ingredients

Inspect fish, look for fish with clear eyes and with an inoffensive smell, avoid overly smelly or damaged fish.

Pour olive oil into a cast iron skillet or other high sided cooking vessel and heat to approximately 350 F or 177 C.

Fry the fish in batches of 5, stirring regularly to keep them from sticking. Cook for 2-4 minutes until the fish have started to crisp. Be careful, some fish may pop and spit.

Remove fish from the oil and allow them to drain.

Season fish with salt, pepper, and vinegar and serve.

Psampisa aka Flatbread

There are many varieties of bread eaten in Korithia and grain products make up anywhere from 50 to 80 percent of an average individuals diet. This particular variety of bread is most popular in the southern and eastern portions of Korithia, whereas a fluffier yeasted loaves are more commonly eaten in the west and north. This recipe is specifically made with wheat but similar breads can also be made with barley or with mixtures. If you do not want to make this bread yourself it can be substituted with most pita breads. Bread is served with every meal and some meals may feature multiple varieties of bread.

(Note for this recipe I only had self-raising flour at hand which gives a slightly puffier bread, if this is what you want add roughly 3 tsps baking powder)

Recipe

2 1/2 cups white wheat flour plus more for surface

1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt

1 cup whole fat greek yogurt

Olive oil for cooking

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, salt and baking powder. Add the yogurt and combine using a wooden spoon or hands until well incorporated

Transfer the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead by hand for 5 minutes until the dough feels smooth.

Cover the dough and allow to sit for approximately 20 minutes

Separate dough into desired number of flatbreads.

Add flour to each dough ball with your hands and then use a rolling pin to flatten out the dough on a lightly floured surface. Size is up to taste.

Heat a pan on medium high heat. Add the olive oil and cook the flatbreads one at a time for about 2-4 minutes, depending on thickness, per side until the bread is puffed and parts of it has become golden brown.

Akuraros aka Cucumber (Salad)

While the cucumber has become a relatively popular crop within Korithian agriculture it is not native and was all but unknown to their Arkodian predecessors. Cucumbers, which actually originated in Sinria and Ukar, were introduced by Kishite invaders during the Arko-Kishite war and were subsequently adopted by the survivors of that conflict. Cucumbers are associated with health and in particular with fertility. Cucumbers are typically eaten raw or pickled. They may be used in salads or even in drinks, ground into medicinal juices. Cucumbers are additionally believed to ward off disease carrying spirits and may be hung outside of the doors of sick individuals to ward off evil entities. Cucumbers are also fed to learning sages, as they are believed to strengthen the resolve and spirit. A potion consisting of the magical herbs wumopalo and lisapalo, wine, and cucumber juice has historically been used to temporarily induce in non-sages the ability to see spirits. Dill is additionally believed to produce positive effects, thought to ward of diseases of the stomach and cancers. Dill is often used in potions which may effect the physical nature of an individual, these potions are rarely used as their effects are most often permanent to some extent.

This particular cucumber salad recipe is a favorite in the region around Kalmanati, Bokith.

Recipe

1 large cucumber cleaned

2 cloves garlic roughly chopped

2 tablespoons fresh dill chopped

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Salt to taste

Pepper to taste

Cumin to taste

Cut cucumber into thin slices (the actual width will vary dependent on taste)

Combine cucumber and all other ingredients in a non-reactive container and mix.

Cover and store the salad for at least 30 minutes and up to 12 hours.

Serve cold

Ewisasi aka Olives

The Ewasi or olive is in many ways the center of Korithian cuisine, as it is also in Baalkes and Knosh. Olive oil is used regularly and the olive fruit is consumed at all meals of the day including dessert. Olives are cured via the use of water, vinegar, brines, or dry salt in order to remove their innate bitterness. There are hundreds of varieties of olive in Korithia alone, their taste dependent on when they are harvested, how they are cured, the particular cultivar, and even the soil in which they are grown. Kalmanati is best known for two varities of olive, the kalmi, which is red fleshed and meaty, typically cured in red wine vinegar, and the prasiki, a small green olive which is firm and slightly nutty in flavor.

Recipe

Take your favorite olives, put them in a bowl. Optionally add vinegar and herbs

Funemikiwados aka Hill Sauce

Hill sauce is the condiment of choice for most Korithian households and the exact nature of the sauce will vary greatly from region to region. In the north it is most often composed of pine nuts, olive oil, onion, vinegar, salt, and garlic. In the south the sauce is typically far more marine in nature, composed of seaweed, fish, garlic, olive oil, and vinegar. In all cases the ingredients are combined and mashed or ground to produce a pourable/dipable sauce. The sauce itself originates from the center of Korithia around the city of Bokakolis. The sauce was originally used by shepherds to flavor dried meats which may otherwise be dry or flavorless. Its name derives from the ingredients used within these early versions of the sauce, many of which were herbs plucked from the hillside while the shepherds tended to their flocks. The Kalmanatian version of the sauce is similar to this original herb based variety however it adds salt-cured fish and tisparos (Tisi - tickle, paros- seed) , another Kishite import (there it is called lisiki). This sauce is often used with practically any savory food, poured on meat, fish, vegetables, and bread. Often a house may be judged by the quality of their funemikiwados. Among the Kalmanatians there is two varieties of the sauce, a fresh version (the one described here) and another which is typically made with dried herbs and has additional vinegar added to act as a sort of preservative.

Recipe

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/3 cup red wine vinegar

2 tbsps rilogabo juice (1:1 orange and lemon)

2 anchovies (or other small salt-cured fish)

1/4 cup fresh chopped dill

1/6 cup fresh chopped parsley

1/8 cup fresh chopped thyme

6-10 leaves of fresh chopped rosemary

2-3 leaves fresh basil

2 cloves of garlic

Black pepper to taste

Ground tisparos to taste (Substitue ground sichuan pepper)

Gather the ingredients.

Combine and grind anchovies, garlic, and herbs into a fine paste, using a mortar and pestle or with a food processor.

Combine the herb paste ialong with the rest of the other ingredients and mix until completely incorporated.

Allow to sit at least 30 minutes, allowing for flavors to develop and properly incorporate with each other.

Serve with meat or fish

Wumos aka Wine

Wine in Korithia predates both the Korithians and the Arkodians, and had already been developed by several cultures on the islands including the Awaxi mentioned earlier. Wine is one of the most commonly consumed beverages, only surpassed by water, and slightly more common than psamarla, a Korithian version of unfiltered beer. Wine has many social, religious, and economic uses and is essential in the trade of the plantbrew, making up the base of many kinds of potion. There are many varieties of wine, with some being viewed as better or worse than others. Red wine is typically preferred for later in the day as it is believed that it helps to induce sleep while white wine is preferred for the morning and afternoon. Wine is typically watered down at a ratio of 2 parts water to 1 part wine, this may be either with plain or salted water. Unwatered wine is saved for special occasions and certain religious ceremonies in which intoxication is the goal. Wine may be sweetened with honey, figs, or various fruit juices. Herbs and spices such as black pepper, tisparos, coriander, saffron, thyme, and even cannabis and opium and various magical herbs may be added to change the flavor of the wine and to promote other effects.

Recipe

Pick a wine that you like and put it in a glass or cup. You can water it down if you would like but I didn't because I am not Korithian and this was a special occasion.

I finally got this post done! If you decided to read through this whole thing, thank you! Let me know if you try any of these, most of these amounts are ultimately a matter of taste, you can change things and experiment if you want.

Now we'll see if I get to 300 followers and we'll do this all over again with the food from another part of the Green Sea.

Thank you all again for following me, I've really enjoyed sharing my WIP with y'all!

@patternwelded-quill , @skyderman , @flaneurarbiter , @jclibanwrites , @alnaperera, @rhokisb, @blackblooms , @lord-nichron , @kosmic-kore , @friendlyshaped , @axl-ul , @talesfromtheunknowable , @wylanzahn , @dyrewrites , @foragedbonesblog , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @mk-writes-stuff , @roach-pizza

#fantasy food #writeblr #writing #worldbuilding #fantasy #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy writing #world building #creative writing #story writing #200 followers #thank you guys so much!#fantasy world

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 9 months

Text

Cookie Kisses

Week 3 of the Winter Writing Challenge

prompts: hot chocolate / baking / dancing

Summary: Dieter finds you baking cookies in your home after being away to shoot his series for months.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x fem. reader

wordcount: 1.9k

Rating: T

Warnings: fluff, making out, suggestive language (?), talk of future plans involving kids

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It’s funny how much your life can change in less than a year.

A year ago you were living in a shitty apartment with four other people, working three jobs and still not being able to afford a dollar more than you needed to survive.

LA had turned into a fucking pipe dream for you.

You knew thousands of people tried to make their dream come true by moving to the city of stars.

Just like you did. You were a writer. You wanted to work in television or the movies.

Yet after months and months you did not even get one call back or anyone interested in your work. You were getting frustrated.

You were at your lowest point a year ago just before Christmas. Not being able to afford the flight back to see you parents for the holidays, and not enough money to treat yourself to a shitty Christmas dinner from the supermarket.

You were working 16 hour shifts at the diner just to not be back in your shitty apartment where you would spend all your time talking yourself out of just giving up and moving back home.

It was one of those 16 hour shifts, at 3 am on a Thursday that Dieter Bravo stepped into your life.

You had heard that he had been shooting in a studio not far away from the diner from some time from one of your co workers. Apparently he had been to the diner quite regularly in the last two weeks, just not ever when you had been there.

You welcomed him to the diner with a tired smile, handing him the menu, missing the way he looked after you, when you left to get his order of a hot chocolate.

You had missed a lot in the weeks after that first meeting too.

Like that he somehow managed to now always showed up in your shift, seated in your section.

How he tried to keep talking to you, when all you were doing was going through your to do list while taking his order.

How he seemed to tip you always more than average on days you looked sad.

Of course you knew who Dieter Bravo was.

You had seen some of his movies and the very successful series two years ago he stared in. An HBO series about… fungi zombies. Or…. Whatever.

It was another nightly visit from him almost six weeks after your first meeting where you finally realised that maybe Dieter Bravo was interested in more than your ability to deliver food and the best hot chocolate he ever had (his words).

The diner had been busy and there had been no free space in your section. You had seen him come in, giving him a friendly smile as you walked by and back into the kitchen. You put in the latest orders and excused yourself for a small restroom break after.

When you stepped back into the diner it was completely empty.

Safe for Dieter’s preferred table where the man was waiting for you. Two hot chocolates waiting in front of him, looking at you with big brown puppy eyes.

When you thought back to this night it still seemed like the beginning of a fairytale.

He had told you that he paid off everyone in the diner to leave, including most of the staff. He had told you that he had been trying to get your attention for weeks.

You thought it was a joke first, why would Oscar winning actor Dieter Bravo wanting to get your attention?

He could have everyone, why would he want you?

You would learn months later that he was pretty sure he had fallen in love with you that first time he saw you, just before Christmas when he walked into the diner.

Your life had changed significantly after Dieter stepped into your life.

Dieter and you started hanging out outside of your work quite frequently before he asked you out on a date.

And dating you did.

He took you out to have dinner, flew you out to Canada when he was shooting the second season of his HBO series. He made you teach him how to make the perfect hot chocolate so he could make it for you.

He kissed and fucked you whenever you where together.

The Dieter you got to know, and the persona he let the outside world know, were two completely different people.

He told you he loved you and that for the first time in his life he felt like he did not need drugs to make it through the day. Not that he did not do anymore drugs, just significantly less (as you learned from him and his manager). And only rarely in front of you.

When the lease of your apartment was up, he asked you to move in with him. Into his new house he had bought in the hidden hills and help him make it feel like home.

Your home.

Now, a week before Christmas you were standing in a kitchen that was double as big as your apartment before, preparing another batch of Christmas cookies you were making for your guests next week.

Dieter had insisted on inviting his and your parents over for the holidays and you could not wait for them to get here.

Dieter was due to be back from Canada for some reshoots later that day and you hoped you would be finished by the time he was back.

You hoped he liked how you decorated the house, save for the Christmas tree you wanted to decorate with him once he was back.

Moving in with Dieter had been an experience. While you were on the border of being OCD tidy, he was… not. You were both still learning how to get used to this new normal, but excited to do it together.

You hadn’t spend much time together with Dieter in this house yet. You moved in in the beginning of October and he had to leave before Halloween to continue to shoot his series. You had only seen each other since then once when he was back for a brief meeting for another movie he would be shooting in Italy the next year.

Humming along to the radio to some Christmas song you loaded up the dishwasher, waiting for the timer of the oven to go off, you missed the garage door opening and footsteps making their way inside the house.

It’s why you almost had a heart attack once you turned around and found Dieter grinning at you over his sunglasses, standing at the kitchen island.

„Holy shit,“ you gasped, your hand pressing against your chest and your wild beating heart.

„Hey babe,“ his grin widened and you laughed, before you practically ran around the counter, throwing yourself into his arms.

„I missed you baby,“ you murmured and he kissed you, sighing audibly against your lips.

„You taste like cookies,“ he mumbled against your lips, kissing you all over your face, his hands both on your ass, pulling you against him.

„Want some?“ You asked.

„Cookies?“ He asked. You nodded. He shook his head.

„Want something different,“ he kissed you again, slowly walking you backwards until you felt the counter against your back.

He kissed down your neck, his fingers pulling at your shirt.

„Missed your tits,“ he dipped his nose into your cleavage and you bit your lip.

„Baby…“ you gasped and he helped you sit on the counter.

„Missed all of you,“ he murmured.

Parting your legs so he could stand between them he pushed your shirt up, kissing your stomach.

„Canada is too fucking cold. Colder than your feet at night,“ he hummed and you giggled. He playfully bit into your hip before his hands both came to rest on your upper thighs. You pulled him into your arms, your fingers brushing through his hair as he rested his head against your chest.

„I really missed you Dieter,“ you whispered and he snuggled even closer against you.

„Love that I get to come home to you now,“ he said and propped his chin up against your chest, looking up at you.

The timer of the oven let you both jump, and you chuckled.

„One more batch to go and then you get to do whatever you want to me,“ you whispered, kissing his forehead. He pouted, sighing dramatically before he let go of you and helped you off the counter.

He hovered behind you, following you like a puppy, as you took the finished batch out and put the last batch into the oven.

You gently slapped his fingers away as he tried to steal a cookie.

„Let them cool down for a second, will you?“ You chastised him playfully and pouted. You carefully pulled his glasses off, your hands on his cheeks.

„There you are,“ you smiled and got on your tiptoes to kiss him again. His arms wrapped around you again, running soothingly up and down your back.

„Can we make that pie I love so much tomorrow?“ He asked.

„We as in us two?“ You asked, an eyebrow raised.

He pursed his lips.

„Well you are gonna bake and I am gonna lick all the bowls. I’m very good at licking“ he said seriously, wiggling his eyebrows.

You shook your head with a laugh, your hands crossing behind his neck.

„You are very good at licking,“ you agreed.

„Want a demonstration?“ He offered, his hands on your ass again and you could feel how hard he was as he rubbed himself against you.

„In… twenty minutes. Can’t let those cookies burn,“ you said and he pouted again.

„You’re so damn mean,“ he whined.

„But you love it,“ you say.

„Yeah. Yeah I do,“ he sighed before he kissed you.

It was a minute or so later that he slowly began to swing you to the beat of the music, some Michael Bublé Christmas song in the background. Smiling you let your head rest against his shoulder, one of his hands now in the middle of your back, gently guiding the impromptu slow dance.

Sometimes you imagined moments like this years in the future. Maybe with a dog and cat around. Maybe a kid or two.

As long as Dieter was in your future, you would be okay with everything life could throw at you.

„You still got that meeting on Friday?“ He asked, his head resting on top of yous.

„Yeah. They seemed really interested,“ you mumbled against his shirt.

While you still hadn’t gotten your first big job, it looked like that might change in the near future.

Dieter and you bonded over your love for writing and you both had been working on a script, which you sent out to some studios under different pseudonyms.

You did not want to use Dieter’s connections to make it. Ever since you went public with your relationship, people knew who you were. And may it be stubborn, you did not want to use his name to finally get the recognition you always dreamed of.

You already had two meetings with studios, a third one just around the corner before Dieter would join you to reveal who the second writer was.

„You excited for Christmas?“ He asked you. You looked up at him.

„So much. We gotta decorate the tree together this week,“ you said.

He nodded and leaned in to kiss you, humming against your lips. You did not know it then, but a week later he would ask you to marry him.

„I love you,“ Dieter mumbled against your lips.

„I love you too.“

#my fic #Dieter Bravo #Dieter Bravo x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #stephswinterwritingchallenge #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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