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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

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White Lies (Pt. 05 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Everything She Needs

Many tears cloud your sight when you see it. The cold gel doesn't even bother you anymore. With a bright smile on your lips, you squeeze Keanu's hand. The baby is just a tiny little thing, and you would never find it if it wasn't for the doctor.

“It's our baby.” You whisper, looking at Keanu. He has a small smile too, eyes on the screen.

“Well, we're done here.” The woman says, turning the equipment off and wiping the gel off you.

You're in the middle of week seven, and doctor Amanda Williams suggests a magazine so you can keep up with the development of the baby.

Keanu quickly signs up for the digital version and buys an e-book that explains week by week what happens with both the baby and your body. You're reading it on your new phone since the old one was destroyed in the accident, as Keanu drives you back home.

“On week seven, the baby is the size of a grape.” You read out loud, the tone of your voice raising a little on the last word. “So tiny.” Glancing at Keanu, you furrow your eyebrows. “We found about the pregnancy very early. The doctor said people usually find out around week six. We knew it back on week two.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes focused on the road. “We were planning it so when your period was just a little late, you decided to buy a test and it was positive.” Keanu sounds a little odd, and it makes you look away, reading the e-book to yourself.

Keanu has been weird since last week, but you've been in and out of the hospital, so you didn't have time to talk. Once you get home, you excuse yourself to take a shower, lingering in your bedroom for a while, lying down with a hand on your stomach. It has become a habit, and you've been starting to talk more with the baby too.

A few moments later you head downstairs, finding Keanu on the couch, watching TV. Shyly, you walk over to him, standing beside the couch. It doesn't take much until he notices you.

“What are you watching?”

“The news.” He answers, gesturing for you to sit down, and so you do.

But the silence is uncomfortable, and you don't understand why. You want to ask, but it feels like there's a huge wall separating both of you. It hits you suddenly that it maybe be some kind of crisis. Is it how your marriage ends? Because of you and a stupid accident? Taking one of the pillows, you hug it, breathing deeply and running a hand through your hair.

“Do you want to watch something?” Keanu suddenly asks, breaking the ice. Giving him a look, you nod. “Tell me what.”

“Uhm...” Sitting up straight, you can't help but feel a little better that he's talking to you. “What about that assassin movie you told me about?”

“Alright.” Keanu searches through his phone, and a few moments later he plays the movie on the TV.

Focusing on the film, you can't help but cry a little when some assholes kill the puppy. You try not to let him notice as you wipe some tears away. It's uncertain if the crying is just about the dog or if it's mixed up with everything else. The accident, the situation itself, and Keanu's weird behavior. The hormones are probably adding up too, so you fully crying in no time, watching as John Wick buries the dog in his garden.

“Are you alright?” Keanu asks, and you silently shake your head, eyes still on the screen. “If you're feeling bad we can–”

“I-I'm alright.” Clearing your throat, you try not to be bitter about it. He probably has a lot in his head, that's all. “It's just the dog.”

He nods, and you move away from him just a little. If he needs space, you will give it to him. But the movie takes you over bit by bit, and you're at the edge of your seat by the end, only relaxing when the credits start rolling. You were planning on letting him be, but the movie got you a little excited.

“That was amazing.” You exclaim, turning your body towards him. “You're absolutely awesome and I'm so glad he got Iosef.”

“I'm happy you enjoyed it.”

“Yeah... And you still keep the look.” With a small smile, you gesture at his hair and beard, pretty much the same he had on when playing John Wick. “I really like it.” You decide to say, hoping the low light, since the night is falling, will hide your blushing cheeks.

“That's why I keep it,” Keanu answers, the credits still rolling on the screen.

You lock eyes with him for a while, and you wait for him to look away, but he doesn't. Biting your lip, you pull both your legs up. “What now?” You ask in a low voice.

“There are two other movies.”

“Let's watch them.”

As much as the second movie is great, you're tired, and the fact that you decided to lie down doesn't help. You stay in a half curled position so your feet won't touch Keanu. Sleep starts taking over, and your eyelids get heavy. As you usually do whenever you're almost falling asleep, you place a hand on your stomach, eyes already closed as you try to at least listen to what's going on in the movie. Taking a deep breath, you move almost involuntary, searching for Keanu's hand, pulling it to your belly. The warmth makes you sink a little more into sleep, but when he removes the hand, you're fully awake.

Pushing yourself back to a sitting position, you just decided you can't take it anymore. You need to know what's going on. So you ignore the movie for a while, grabbing his forearm to get his attention. When his dark eyes find you, you sigh. “What's going on?” Your voice is weak, a whisper, and you wonder if he even heard you.

But when he pauses the movie, you know he did. “What do you mean?”

Running a hand through your hair, you feel a lump in your throat. “You've been... Distant. I...” Biting your lip, you look down. “I know everything is screwed up and maybe I'm a stranger to you too since everything... Everything inside me vanished and the girl you fell in love with is gone in a way but I... I'm trying. I'm trying to make things right somehow. I'm trying to remember and–” A sob escapes your lips, followed by some tears. You're feeling lost again, and as much as you're struggling to get used to Keanu, to the fact that you're married to the man, you feel like he's not. He's keeping a distance as if you were nothing to each other. “–and sometimes I fall asleep with my head just about to explode because I'm just trying so hard.” That's something you didn't want him to know, but the words are just coming out. “And it's alright if you want a divorce or something, I already told you that, just... Just don't do that.”

“(Y/N), I–”

“No, please, let me talk.” Clearing your throat and getting up to your feet, you pace around a little, just to catch your breath and maybe the blood flowing will help you think. “I want you to enjoy the pregnancy as well. I know I was put into this crazy situation, married with a child on the way, but we planned this. And I do want you to be part of it, Keanu. So just tell me what you want to do. If you want to break apart, that's alright. I'll still let you be part of everything, b-but if you still love me somehow, let's just... Let's try, you and I. Because I want to, I...” Covering your face with both your hands, you break down again, face already soaked in tears, sobs shaking your body.

His heart broke. Seeing (Y/N) like that, because of him, destroyed Keanu on a whole other level. He was just trying to give her space, not to make things worse, not to touch her, the woman he had nothing with, not to invade her space. He had no idea what he was causing, and if he did, he'd have a totally different approach. Part of him was hoping her memories would come back. Dr. Wright said the longer it takes, smaller are the chances. In the past two weeks, it was critical. If she was to remember, she's doing that on the following days. But she didn't. And Keanu was once again lost in guilt, confused, caught in between the truth and (Y/N)'s truth. Two different things entirely.

And he messed up. He was hurting her, instead of taking care of her.

“I'm sorry.” He mumbles, taking her hand. She pulls away, but he doesn't let go. Her teary eyes meet his, tears still flowing out. “I'm trying not to make you uncomfortable. I can only imagine what it might be to have a man around, wanting to be intimate with you. I am your husband, but I'm just afraid that in your mind I'll be just a stranger trying to take advantage of you.” He speaks slow, thumb caressing her soft skin.

“But I want to try, Keanu.” She whimpers, eyes on the floor. “Or maybe we're just like this? We're a distant couple and I–”

“We're not.” Keanu stands up, hands cupping her face, trying to wipe off some of the tears that don't stop rolling down. He can't let her feel like this. He promised to be with her, and she feels alone. Left aside. This might be a lie to him, the dirtiest lie Keanu had ever told, but to (Y/N), is her life. “We're in love. I'm in love with you. And I'm sorry it came out the wrong way.”

“I... I was reading that book to you and the baby is the size of a grape, it's so tiny and you didn't even...” She makes a pause, taking a deep breath. “It was so interesting and I really wanted to share it with you but you didn't seem like you cared so I just read it all by myself and I know I sound like an idiot, but I want this. I want to try. I don't want to break up a marriage that made both of us happy just because of my stupid brain is a freaking void.” The words come out fast, and (Y/N) covers up her face again.

God, he doesn't even know what hurts more. (Y/N) being so desperate because of him, or him knowing everything she believes in is a forgery. Gently, he pulls her hands down once again. “I'm sorry if I led you to believe that I'm not interested in our child.” How much he wishes it was true. Keanu knows he has to be careful not to fall into his only deceit. “I am. And I have no intention of divorcing you, we're in this together, beautiful, and we'll face it together.” He keeps his voice soft, looking into her sad eyes, shining from the light coming from the paused movie. “Now stop crying, alright?”

She nods, putting a strand of hair behind her ears. “So we're good? I mean... I want to try, i-if you wait a little bit, I'll–”

“I'd wait forever,” Keanu assures her, pulling the girl into his arms, strongly embracing her smaller figure. “Why don't you read the e-book for me?” Sliding his hand in between their bodies, he caresses her belly with the back of his hand.

He'll do it. He'll be her husband, he'll be everything she needs as long as she's happy. As long as she keeps showing him that wonderful smile.

Feeling a little better, you make your way back to the couch after going upstairs to get your phone. Running a hand through your hair, you settle down next to Keanu, closer to him this time, your folded legs only an inch from touching his. You're still a little unsure if he really wants to do this, but you start anyways, clearing your throat. “On week seven the baby is the size of a grape... But I already said that...” Eyes scannig through the words, you try to find the parts you found more interesting.

“It is tiny.” He says, and when you look up, his eyes are already set on you.

“Yeah.” Blushing a little, you focus on the cellphone screen again. “A delicate network of nerves starts spreading through the baby's body, and they will start to make constant little motions. Soon they'll be able to feel sensations like temperature and taste.”

“So they'll start moving.” He says, his giant hand laying on your stomach. “When will they start to kick?”

“Around twenty weeks. So it'll be a while until that.” Going through the pages, you sigh. “It says that I'll feel thirsty more often and that I should do some exercise.”

“We could walk around the condo every morning,” Keanu suggests and you put the phone away, throwing it behind your back.

“I'd like that.” You agree, shyly nodding.

“I–” He's interrupted by his phone beeping, signaling a text arrived. Or plenty, because it keeps beeping non-stop. He furrows his eyes and picks it from the coffee table, eyes moving through the screen.

“Something happened?”

“Lucia Davis.” He says, typing something down before looking back at you. Keanu seems worried suddenly, a little restless. “She... She was friends with your mother and she's coming to visit you next week.”

“That's good.”

“It is.”

“Then why do you look so... Troubled?” Moving a little closer, you touch his shoulder.

“I'm just worried it'll be too much for you. You just told me you're going to sleep with terrible headaches and I don't want anyone else who'll push you too hard.”

With a small smile on your lips, you decide to be a little brave, moving to place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for worrying about me. But I'm fine, and if I'm not I'll let you know, I promise.”

He smiles too, caressing your chin with his index finger. “Alright. Now keep reading, there's still a lot we need to learn about our baby.”

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction #john wick x reader

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sillyrabbit81 · 3 years

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Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3.7k

Warnings: swearing, smut

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 3 Part 5

Part 4

The lift ride was short, but long enough for me to get nervous. I think Liam sensed my mood and pulled me into a hug. His embrace was warm and gentle, so different from the way he held me a few moments ago.

I was surprised at how comforting his embrace was. It was the kind of hug that made the world slip away. He stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, and I sighed into his chest. I breathed deeply, and beneath his sharp, spicy cologne, I could smell him, his faint masculine scent, herbaceous and green.

The doors opened, and he led me to across a hallway into his room.

He turned the lights on briefly and then dimmed them. Liam shadowed me while I looked around. His room had dark grey carpeted floors and white walls. A king-sized bed with black bedsides and a large black leather winged back chair were the only furniture. Like the one downstairs, a sizeable abstract canvas hung over the bed.

Two doors led off his room, one was an en-suite, and the other looked like a walk-in robe and dressing room. I noticed some clothes thrown on a small sofa in the dressing room and a few pairs of shoes on the floor, the only things I had seen out of place in the house. I smiled, finally an indication Liam was indeed human.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the bed, somehow making it sound like both a request and command. His tone ripped right through me, and it almost shamed me at how quickly I obeyed.

I sat, and Liam knelt at my feet. He lifted one of my feet onto his lap and undid the strap of my heeled sandal, and removed it. He placed my barefoot back on the carpet and repeated the process on the other foot.

Liam gripped my ankles in his large hands and ran his fingers up my legs, sitting up as he went. His eyes were level with mine, and he smiled at me. I could not speak or move. My whole body was tingling with his touch, excited by the anticipation of what sensations he would give me next.

His hands reached my knees, and he gently pushed them apart and brought his body close to mine. Clasping my face, he brought it to his, kissing me with a tenderness that surprised me. His hands were under my skirt, moving up the outside of my thighs. His deliberate caress was driving me wild. I wanted to scream, don't be gentle, be rough, take me, make me yours.

My arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him closer to me. My kisses became more fervent, urging him on. His hands were on my hips now, his thumbs against my hip bones.

The heat in my centre was burning, and I arched my back, desperately wanting friction to ease the ache I felt. He must have felt my hips rocking, it wasn't subtle, but he pulled back and stood up. I couldn't help myself, and I looked straight at his pants. I could see the outline of his erection straining against the fabric. I licked my lips and quickly looked away, embarrassed at my blatant display of desire. I don't think he noticed.

"I meant what I said before, Sweetheart. I won't fuck you until you ask." He must have noticed. Fuck. "I want you, but I won't take from you what you are unwilling to give."

Liam seemed to be waiting for some sort of reply, so I nodded, indicating I understood. My eyes drifted back to his pants. Maybe I should ask now? Liam continued, "Have I been too rough with you?"

I swallowed hard and licked my lips. "I..." the words caught in my throat. I tried again, "I liked all of it."

"Good. Stand up." I did. Liam seemed to tower over me now my shoes were off. He took a few steps back.

"Watch me," Liam instructed. He caught my eyes and looked at me intensely as he removed his watch and placed it on his bedside table. Then he reached around to his back pocket and first removed his wallet, then his phone and put them beside his watch. His movements were so smooth and subtle, yet so meticulous. I was enthralled. How could watching a man do such an innocuous task make my core throb?

Liam pulled his jumper's sleeves down and, making eye contact, slowly reached over his shoulder, pulling his jumper off over his head. The action mussed his hair, and a few curls came free and sat on his forehead. I gasped as he held himself still a moment, and I was able to see his naked shoulders and chest. His dark chest hair covered his pec's, and I could see where his hair started to grow down to his abdomen and lower. I licked my lips.

Liam was smirking now. I realised he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Liam knew how attractive he was and knew how to take advantage of that, but I didn't care. Yes, he was showing off for me, tempting me, but fuck, it was worth it.

He pulled his jumper off his arms and tossed it over his shoulder into his dressing room. He cocked his head to the side and curled his finger at me. "Come here."

I jumped and went to him, cursing myself for being so quick. There was no need to let him know how hot his little show was making me. Although who was I kidding? I'm sure it was written all over my face.

I tentatively raised my hand to his chest and stopped centimetres short. I looked up at him, asking the silent question. He nodded, and I let my fingertips touch his chest, his hair curling around them as I slowly caressed him. I felt his groan beneath my fingers and watched as his chest expanded and contracted. Each time he breathed, the time between each breath got shorter and shorter until he was almost panting.

I let my fingers trail down his abdomen, riding over each curve of his muscle. Liam whispered a curse as my fingers reached his belt, and I slipped my fingers beneath his waistband for a moment before pulling them out again. "You're teasing me," Liam growled.

"Do you like it?" I asked coyly. Liam nodded, and I took a step back from him. "Do you want to watch me?" I asked, surprised at my boldness. Maybe the alcohol was still affecting me, or perhaps I was just so turned on at that moment that I didn't care. Liam looked almost like an animal, his chest heaving, nose flaring with each breath. His hands at his side clenched, and he looked ready to pounce. He nodded.

I took a few steps back to give him a good view. I pulled my shirt slowly out of my skirt, occasionally pulling high enough for him to get a glimpse of my stomach. Then I crossed my arms and gripped my shirt, pushing my breasts together. I wasn't some inexperienced teenager. I was a woman who knew her body too. I could play his game as well as he could.

Liam took a step towards me. I turned around and peeked at him from over my shoulder. I bit my lip and slowly lifted my arms, pulling my top up with it. I held it to my chest, covering myself before turning around again. Liam had taken another step closer while I was turned, and I could have reached out to touch him. I played demure, looked down and took a step back. I chewed my lip and took another step back, feeling the bed on the back of my legs. I slowly let my shirt fall to the floor.

Liam made a noise in his throat, a half chuckle, a half shout of triumph and crossed the space between us in one step. He scooped me up under the arms and threw me on the bed. I shrieked and giggled at his display, and then he was on me. My laughter died in my throat.

It seemed his hands and lips were everywhere, but at least one arm was wrapped around my waist, forcing me to arch my back, and my breasts strained against my bra. I felt his breath through the lace of my bra. He kissed and nibbled at my nipple through the fabric. I could feel them turn into tiny buds beneath the material as he traced them with his tongue. He was driving me wild.

I felt his legs push mine apart, and I could feel his hardness against my core. I moved against him, feeling my underwear's lace rub against me. Liam was moving against me too, grinding against me as if he were fucking me. I was moaning out loud now I couldn't help it. I wrapped my legs around his and gripped his arse with my hand urging him on.

Soon Liam's kisses slowed and became more tender. He pulled away, breathing hard like he was composing himself, forcing himself to stop before he went too far.

He slipped from my grasp as he kissed down my tummy to my waist, where my skirt stopped him. "Take this off?" This time he sounded like he was asking. I didn't say anything but reached to my side and undid the zip.

Liam pulled down my skirt and continued his kisses lower until he reached my underwear. He looked up at me. My god, I wanted it. He wanted it. But he was as good as his word, and he stopped. I let out a sigh of relief. I think if he had tried anything, I would have caved, but would I have regretted it? Would I trust him again? I didn't know.

He got off me and laid next to me, propping his head upon his hand. Liam caressed my body, running a hand down my chest, over my hips, along the outside of my thighs and back up. Whether it was Liam or the wine, his touch soothed me until I closed my eyes and I started to drift off to sleep.

A bright light woke me, and I sat up alone on the bed with half the covers pulled up, cocooning me. The light was coming from the dressing room, and Liam was sitting on the sofa pulling off his pants.

Liam didn't seem to be aware I had woken up. He probably didn't know how bright the light was. He put his pants on the lounge and stood up, pulling his trunks down. I hid my face, but not before I caught a glimpse of his sex, still half erect. Fucking hell! It was big. Not, 'oh my god, he's going to tear me apart' big, but big enough it would 'take a moment to get used to' big.

I slowly pulled the cover down to see better. Liam was facing away from me, and his gorgeous back and arse were on display. His body was so taut, and it seemed like his muscles rippled like waves beneath his skin as he moved.

He went to a draw and pulled out another pair of underwear. He reached into another draw where he got out a t-shirt. He put the trunks on and turned around, bringing the T-shirt with him as he made his way back to the bedroom. His hand went to turn the light off, but his eyes caught mine. I pulled the cover over my head, suddenly embarrassed.

"Too late, Sweetheart. I caught you." I groaned and pulled the blanket off my head, peeking out shyly. Liam was smiling and handed me his t-shirt. "Here, I thought you like to take your bra off before sleeping?"

"Thank you," I said, taking the shirt. I looked around, embarrassed again, thinking how I would do this without flashing Liam or looking like a 14-year-old in a change room. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course." Liam pointed behind me to his en-suite. I got up, and Liam put his hand out to help me off the bed. He took the opportunity to pull me into a hug kissing me on the forehead. I hugged him back before making my way to the bathroom.

Liam chuckled as I walked away. "You have no idea how badly I want to smack your bum right now."

Momentarily shocked, I stopped dead. Then, gaging the distance between Liam and me and the distance to the bathroom, I thought, fuck it. I wriggled my bum at him, and he reacted just as I had hoped, growling and running towards me. I had less space to cover, and giggling, I ran into the bathroom, slamming the door just before he reached me. I heard him laughing on the other side of the door.

"You're a brat." I heard him say through the door.

"You love it," I shouted back.

"Hmm, you're lucky I gave you my word, or you'd be in trouble right now. Hurry up in there. I want to hold you again."

The admission made me shiver. I hurriedly went to the toilet and put the t-shirt on. It was far too big and covered me to mid-thigh. When I came out, Liam had put my clothes on the chair in the corner of the room, and I popped my bra on top. Liam was in bed under the covers, and when I came over, he pulled them back and patted the bed beside him.

I got in. Liam covered me and grabbed me to spoon me. He made a noise of contentment as he snuggled into me, one arm cradling my neck, the other curling around my body, cupping my breast over his shirt. He breathed deeply into my hair. "You smell so good." I wiggled in closer and felt his erection twitch against my bottom.

"Are you warm enough?" He asked. Was he just going to ignore the fact that he was poking me? Fine, two can play at that game.

"Yes, you're very hot." I stretched and wriggled some more against him and turned my head slightly to look at him while licking my lips.

Liam took my chin in his hand. "Be careful, Sweetheart. I'm only just controlling my urges here."

I did like teasing him, but it wasn't fair. I had said no to any more than this. Not that if I did tease him more he would have an excuse to do something I didn't want. But I wouldn't do that to him. Well, not on our first date anyway. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I just want you to know the effect you have on me. I very much like it."

I had no response to this. So I gave Liam a quick kiss and snuggled back into his arms.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart."

"Night." I drifted off to sleep listening to Liam's steady breathing.

When I woke up, it was barely dawn, and I was alone in bed. Outside, kookaburras were singing, and faint orange light peeked through gaps in the curtains.

I stretched in bed, feeling not too bad considering the amount I had to drink last night. My bladder called, so I went to the bathroom. When I came out, I pulled the covers up in a half-hearted attempt to make the bed. I considered getting dressed, but I liked being in Liam's shirt.

I went into the hall and listened to see if I could tell where Liam was. I didn't want to creep around someone's house without them, but it was awkward to sit in bed waiting.

I took a chance and went down one flight of stairs. The first floor seemed quiet, mostly closed doors, but I did hear music faintly and some clanging. I went down again, and a door that was closed off the dining room last night was open and what I saw stopped me dead in my tracks.

Liam stood in shorts and a singlet lifting weights. He had dumbbells in each hand, and he was extending his arms straight out, breathing roughly with the exertion. His singlet was wet with sweat, and his hair was clinging to his forehead. I blushed and went to move away. Cole blew my cover. He came over to me, nudging my legs and Liam's gaze followed.

"Lana," he breathed. "Good morning. I thought I would be done by the time you woke up." He came over to me, and I couldn't breathe. How did he look even sexier this morning than he did last night? A bead of sweat ran down his neck and disappeared in his chest hair. I wanted to tear my clothes off.

Calming myself, I reached up to his sweaty face and kissed him instead. "No worries. How much longer do you have?"

"Twenty minutes or so."

"Would you like me to make you a coffee for when you finish? I think I remember where everything is."

Liam agreed and said I could help myself with anything else in the kitchen if I were hungry. "There's not a lot, though," he warned. I went off to the kitchen to make coffee, Cole following behind me.

Cole watched as I put the ground coffee through the machine and then had a look in the fridge for milk. I noticed Liam had ready-made meals, mostly labelled for breakfast and lunch for the next few days. There were some lonely Granny Smith apples in the crisper, so I munched on one of those until the coffee was ready.

"C'mon Cole," I said and went back into Liam's gym. I sat on the floor with my back against a wall while Liam was on a treadmill cooling down. Franz Ferdinand was playing in the background. I bopped along, half-singing to Cole while I sipped my coffee. A song later, Liam came and sat next to me, thanked me for the coffee, and all three of us sat in comfortable silence.

"What's your plans for today?" Liam asked as we finished our drinks.

"Well, I've got to get home to Perrin and give him a feed, but not much else after that. You?"

"Not much either. I've done my work for today." Liam said, indicating to his equipment. "What about tomorrow?"

"No plans," I admitted, kind of feeling like I should have made something up so I didn't appear as boring as I was. "You?"

"Nothing either, except another workout."

"Do you have to do it in the morning?"

"It's preferable, but no."

"When do you start filming?"

"Two weeks. Things will get very hectic then. It'll be long days for a while. Twelve or fourteen hours. Sometimes more."

"That must be difficult."

"It is, but I enjoy it, especially working on a show like this where I have stunts and sword fights and things to do other than just standing around and saying lines."

"And looking pretty," I added.

He laughed, "yeah, looking pretty comes with the territory." He admitted.

We were quiet then. I was thinking about the inevitable good-bye. I didn't want to leave, to go home to my house, alone again. A dog is only so much company.

Trying to sound casual, I said, "do you want to come with me to my place. Spend the day with me and stay over?" I held my breath.

"Yes." He said immediately. "I wanted to ask you to stay again tonight. But your place will be just as good." He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it, and he helped me up. "I'll go shower and pack a bag."

"I'd better get dressed too," I said and followed Liam into the lift and to his room.

I got my clothes and headed into the dressing room while Liam headed into the bathroom. I heard the shower start, and I got dressed. I folded the t-shirt he gave me to wear and put it on the sofa. I went downstairs, grabbed my bag, sat on Liam's lounge, and waited.

I checked my phone—a message from my sister-in-law Lucy inviting me to dinner Sunday night. I replied yes since surely Liam would want to go home by then.

There was a message from Riza asking how my date went, followed by another saying that if she didn't get a reply soon, she would think I was a slut. Followed by another one saying, "Slut confirmed. Get some!" I laughed and replied that I only got some, but I'll call her tomorrow night with more details.

Liam came down a bit later with a small overnight bag and was quickly shovelling food into his mouth. He was wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt and an unzipped hoodie. His hair was still wet from his shower, and it was all curled up and messy on his head. I wanted to feel his hair. It looked so soft.

He had another hoodie tucked under his arm and offered it to me. "It's a bit chilly outside. Do you want this?"

Yes, Sir, I want this.

What I actually said was thanks, and I put it on despite the fact it was so big it now looked like I wasn't wearing pants.

I ordered an Uber while Liam finished eating and called his assistant, asking him to organise a dog walker for Cole. I thought it was weird that he even had an assistant, let alone that they would have to be responsible for things like that.

I realised that being alone with Liam, it was very easy to forget that he was a celebrity, but then things like that would come up, and I'd realised how different his world was to mine.

My phone beeped at me, telling me the Uber was close. I called out to Liam. He said goodbye to Cole, and we headed out.

Part 5

#original character #original fiction #romantic story

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orihara-infobroker · 4 years

Text

Part The Second! 44. “We cannot let the faeries see this.”

So I chose Akazaki for this because I had the loose idea of them getting drunk and into trouble. I dunno how it turned out. Probably a bit out of character but here it is anyway. Imma try not to overthink it. XD

"Who'd have thought we'd be drinking with faeries?" Akabayashi chuckled as he sauntered down the hallway, drink in hand, swaying a bit. He used the other hand to gesture at the stone walls, seemingly overgrown with ivy that parted to reveal the occasional wall hanging or sculpture hidden in small recesses.

"Some good liquor they're serving" Aozaki replied. "Tastes like fruit juice but it sure packs a punch."

Akabayashi grinned and took another sip. "With Izaya and Shiki getting political with the important people… Faeries… "

"Whatever," Aozaki interrupted.

"Yeah, so, what say we explore this place?"

"You mean snoop." Aozaki gave Akabayashi a glare.

"Call it whatever you want. I want to see what these faeries are hiding."

"Why? Doesn't involve us any. Dunno why they even invited us. Or why Shiki got involved. Yakuza shouldn't be dealing with this kind of thing."

"Always so narrow-minded. Imagine what we could do if we had faerie allies with their abilities."

"Nothing we couldn't do without them. Might be useful but you can't trust 'em."

"That's why we're investigating." Akabayashi stopped in front of a set of double doors, ornately carved wood depicting a script neither of them understood. He tried the door and, finding it unlocked, pushed it open. "After you."

"This is your bad idea."

Akabayashi grinned and shrugged, stepping into the room. Aozaki followed despite his criticism, throwing back the last of his faerie wine. They looked around the room, Akabayashi overtly curious while Aozaki’s expression was one of bored disinterest. The room was full of more faerie art; paintings on walls, sculptures and vases on the floor or pedestals, and hanging tapestries that served as decoration and divider. Tables of food and refreshment had been set up in this room as well, drawing a grin from Aozaki as he traded his empty glass for a new one.

"Nice. More wine." Aozaki examined the food, grunting at the assortment of fruits and bite-sized pastries.

"Guess this isn’t off-limits.”

“Did the unlocked door give it away?”

Akabayashi rolled his eyes and began wandering the room, grabbing another glass of wine as he examined the artwork. “Maybe Shiki should offer to sell their art in the gallery.” He mused, half-joking. “Come here, there’s another set of doors.”

“Or I could stay here and enjoy the wine.”

"You have no sense of adventure."

"I have better priorities." Aozaki raised his glass and downed it.

"Just grab the bottle." Akabayashi pushed open the doors onto a new room, this one lit by flickering candles and decorated in gauzy drapery. "This looks promising. You coming or not?"

Aozaki sighed and grabbed a bottle, taking a long pull from it then following Akabayashi. "I guess I should keep an eye on you."

Akabayashi snorted. "Don't strain yourself."

"Shut up. What's the point of this? We're not going to find any secrets this way. Kick down a locked door, you"ll have better results."

"And bring whatever guards they have running? Stupid." Akabayashi stepped through the doorway and into what appeared to be the artist’s workroom. He examined the canvas set up on an easel then turned his focus to the brushes scattered on a tray nearby.

Aozaki settled into a chair, watching Akabayashi. "Might be fun to fight them skinny fuckers. Mess up their pretty faces. They don't look like they’d put up much of a fight though.”

“Is there anyone you wouldn’t fight?”

“Sure. Lots of people. I wouldn’t bother with most of them but guards are fair game.”

“You ever take art classes in school?”

“The fuck kind of weird question is that?”

Akabayashi picked up a brush with a grin. “I always thought art class was pretentious. Bunch of snobs talkin’ ‘bout what art really is.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge of the galleries with that attitude.”

Akabayashi snorted and put down the wine bottle, studying the small tubes of paint instead. “Even Shiki wouldn’t call the knockoffs we sell art.”

“Hey, the originals we’re ripping off are real art.”

“Stay still. I’m gonna paint you.” Akabayashi grinned at Aozaki but the other just rolled his eyes.

“Idiot. Don’t mess with the faerie art.”

“I forgot you don’t know what a joke is.”

“Sure I do. Your jokes are just shitty.”

“So you don’t want a portrait?”

“It’ll probably look like a five-year old’s first drawing.”

“As if you could do better.”

Aozaki snorted and pushed himself to his feet. “Bet I could. Give me that brush.”

Akabayashi grinned. “Bet you can’t.” He replied as he tossed the brush at Aozaki then grabbed another one, turning to the blank canvas.

It wasn’t long before the two were laughing at their best attempts at art, completely terrible cartoonish drawings of each other that got worse with every brush stroke. They were finally interrupted from their fun by the insistent chiming of a clock that filled the room, reminding them that they’d been away from the party for nearly an hour.

Akabayashi stared mournfully at the empty bottles of wine while Aozaki contemplated the canvas. “We cannot let the faeries see this.”

Akabayashi snickered. “Probably should have considered that before you started painting.”

“Think we can sneak it out to the car?”

“Without someone seeing us? Impossible. Just leave it here, they won’t find it till tomorrow and by then it won’t matter. Maybe they’ll even hang it in their gallery. Let’s go find more wine.”

“Finally a good suggestion.” Aozaki turned away from the painting, weaving unsteadily toward the door. Akabayashi paused just long enough to snap a photo of the canvas before following Aozaki back out to the gallery, the wine, and the party.

#fanfiction #durarara #writing prompts #kinda goofy #Akazaki #being drunk idiots #not very serious at all #my writing

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scriptflorist · 6 years

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Hi, thanks a lot for your answer about floral competition but it isn't what I was asking. I know how one works and have a specific reason for the couple to meet the winner. The problem is that I don't do floral art and barely know a thing about design, so I need to know how to describe them and not make what I describe improper or impossible flower care, downright ugly, out of place, etc without actually being an expert who can design something great, especially a winning design.

Hi again!

Thank you for the clarification, you’re right I kind of missed that you want to describe the actual competition. But only kind of because one of the things that’s important for you to understand here is that competitive floristry largely happens behind closed door. Preferably even each florist to themselves. The events generally aren’t advertised to the public (not counting the world cups), rather than exhibitions displaying the end results. That being said these two events always have to happen back to back because flowers don’t last forever so the works are often made available to the public the same day they were created. Usually in the afternoon, evening or on the following day.

This is largely due to the fact that competitive floristry calls for complex arrangements that take like an hour and a half to build in the first place. And while people may enjoy watching that, it would come at the cost of the florist's concentration and perhaps their flowers too. You may remember I’ve talked about that in the previous post, however, there’s a second reason this doesn’t happen. And that’s cause the actual evaluation and assessment takes foreeeeever. (I was so bored out of my mind that I brought my laptop to our finals so I could write some while waiting for the examiners judgement, me and some classmates ended up listening to music for the longest time of our wait. It was like three hours and we were only five people.) There’s a huge check-list of technical and art-related topics to go through and it will take the jury several hours to complete it for every arrangement. Technique is almost the most important thing so it makes up a rather large chunk of the evaluation sheets actually, so your florists are most likely to get points deducted in that department. People who aren’t acquainted with floristry likely won’t even notice the blemishes a jury has to criticise so it’s not necessarily essential knowledge for your characters.

This masterpost is from way back, but it does give a good idea about what florists mean when they talk about technique. Technique at all times has to be well hidden by your florists. Although there are a few exceptions, like floral tape on a stem not counting for corsages. However, most technique is often hidden well enough to the untrained eye, keep that in mind for the characters who marvel the artwork.

The first thing you will have to ask yourself is whether or not the competition they attend is behind closed doors. Because if it is, you’re fine with just laying focus on the best (or the first three) arrangements, while pointing out general details about the rest. Their general opinion on colour, type and size should be sufficient. Maybe they notice a flower they like too, but unless they think someone else’s is waaaay better they’re not going pay much attention to detail once they see the others.

Whether or not the florists are going to work in the same space or each gets a separate room may depend a little on the location, but usually either or works. Especially if nobody needs extra space. One could even request to work by themselves if it helps them, juries aren’t picky about that. It’s more important that everyone finishes on time. Your characters may even choose to wear earplugs or headphones. I wore headphones during my midterm because talking to others makes me a slower florist and that was bad when I was working on a schedule. So I had a playlist that was roughly half an hour.

Given that every competition, there will be some for the florists too. Usually, flowers are allowed to be prepared, meaning they’ve been rid of all excess leaves, and thorns or side shoots. However, they won’t be allowed to cut them to size already. They will also have extra flowers in case something breaks. Same goes for wiring.

From there on out it’s everyone for themselves. Your florists will be busy thinking about how they have to do their arrangement, what has to be prepared first and which flowers come first. Size, shape and colour play a huge role in which flowers are chosen for which role in the arrangements. But as a rule of thumb lighter colours have to be set higher than darker ones, however, for example, a blue larkspur would have to be set above a white rose because of its shape and character. So your winning florist might catch a glimpse of their surroundings but will for the largest part be lost in their work. Afterwards comes the waiting, maybe even the announcement of the winner, unless that’s supposed to be public, and at last the exhibition where the public will be invited. (And family and friends usually.) If the arrangements aren’t already where they are supposed to be the florists have to set them up for the exhibition. This, however, depends on whether or not the arrangements are fit for moving in the first place.

The next question you should ask yourself is what sort of arrangement you have in mind for the winner. What sort of framework does it have? How tall is it supposed to be? Is it wall-like? Supposed to be set on the ground or on some sort of pedestal? Is it a wreath in any way? (Basically, is it round like a circle and made off plant? There you go consider it a wreath.) Are there branches? Is it supposed to be hanging? Go look at pictures of floral arrangements and write down what you like. Look at vases and basins and baskets and the likes – again write down what suits your tastes. Look at colour gradients and write down what you like, ask google if flowers come in that colour if you aren’t sure – write down what you like. (Complementary colours also work well.) Have a look at wreaths and garlands – write down what you like. Because this is the part where floristry is just another art form and what’s art supposed to be other than pleasing to the eye. Which is an utterly subjective thing in the end. The one thing I cannot tell you is what any of the pieces are going to look like, there are too many factors playing into it including the character of the people making them. I usually go into it by deciding I like a flower and go from there and don’t really have an idea of the final product till I’ve created it unless I am forced to articulate it.

Colors that almost clash make visual tension that can be flashy and attention getting. (Example: pale lavender daisy mums with bright orange gerberas). - Mod Den

(You should also give the theme of the competition some thought, is it freedom, is it love, is it all retro etc. because that too will shape the arrangement in one way or another.) The bottom line here is that a lot is possible and just because Picasso may not be your taste and Monet is doesn’t mean its immediately ugly. Even if we’re talking floral arrangements and not painted art. Same rules apply. You don’t have to describe your winning arrangement down to a t, as long as you get across that it’s bedazzling and a masterpiece of craftsmanship that’s more than enough. Emotions are more important in describing artworks than knowing in which directions the brush went when crossing the canvas. For example, you could have them compliment their use of colour theory.

It’s a floral art competition, the designs can be *anything* and other than not showing the underlying support in ways that shouldn’t be, and the basic principles of design (proportion, size, form, color).

If a reference needs to be made to a design, then vague comments about the use of a certain flower or the way one of the elements of design were implemented would be best. Otherwise a specific design has to be completely thought up, checked for feasibility, and then it’s still going to be subjective of if that one should win over some other one. Heck, maybe even one of the characters thinks the 2nd place design was better, happens all the time in art competitions with other media.- Mod Den

What I can tell you is that you won’t have to worry about care unless your winner made a bouquet. Which would be an open access competition, like what I talked about in the previous answer. However the larger the competition the more likely it won’t be the only thing your winner made in the end. And bouquets only require care because they need to be cut and given fresh water. (A slanted cut with a regular boring fruit knife or preferably a pocket knife with a single blade. Many florists carry one of these.) Floral foam already takes care of everything because it’s soaked through with water and giving the stems an edge makes piercing into it way easier. (Note: Your florists do know that floral foam needs to be given a minute or two to soak up the water instead of being emerged in it because the latter only causes a dry centre and sad droopy flowers through that.)

Of all the things out of place, you could describe flowers out of season may be the worst offenders, so no tulips in summer and chamomile in winter and the likes. A florist who doesn’t know their craft would not only make for a poor competitor. Actually, they would no competitor at all.

- Mod Jana

Disclaimer

This blog is intended as writing advice only. This blog and its mods are not responsible for accidents, injuries or other consequences of using this advice for real world situations or in any way that said advice was not intended.

#floristry #writing advice #floristic championship #ask answered #mod jana #mod den #Anonymous

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wishingforatypewriter · 6 years

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Hope you don't mind me dropping another request! But I feel like the way you write our favorite Soma and Erina express the way they care about each other is through their actions and not so much by words as corny as 'I love you's, do they ever say it to each other? If so, can we get a prompt them saying it for the first time? :D Thankies xx

Notes: Heyyyy! I’ve been meaning to respond to this request for a while now, but your last prompt kind of inspired me lol. It’s true that I don’t see them as the type of couple that would say those words often, but this is the scenario I came up with. Hope you like it!

It had been a tiny accident. Really.

Erina was fine—her Porsche, not so much—but she was fine. She had been driving back home after a dinner service at The Evening Star when hail the size of golf balls started falling from the sky. Then the driver behind her, in an eco-friendly but winter-averse smart car, skidded and rear-ended her.

She’d hit her head pretty damn hard against the dashboard upon impact, but no one was seriously hurt and she wasn’t going to press charges. Still, everyone involved had been hauled off to the emergency room because the medical bureaucracy was INTENSE.

Granted, it turned out that she did have a minor concussion. Emphasis on minor. But of course, as soon as the words accident and hospital were placed in the same sentence, people started to freak out.

The worst, naturally, had been Hisako, who would have abandoned her undergraduate students (and her next major publication) to fly fourteen hours from Boston and nurse her back to health if Hayama hadn’t stopped her. She really would have to write him a thank you note for all the Hisako meltdowns he had prevented over the years.

And then Alice, poor pregnant Alice with her brutal morning sickness, and grandfather with his heart condition, and Uncle Soe with his utter lack of chill had all been ready to get on the first flight from Denmark. And unlike Hisako, who was just worried, the Nakiri clan was also pissed. Her cousin and uncle spoke of lawsuits and jail time and general modern-day fire and brimstone, and she couldn’t tell if her growing headache had more to do with them or the actual concussion.

By the time Yukihira arrived at the hospital, she was tired and nauseous and ready for painkillers and her bed. As soon as he entered the room, she pressed mute and then handed the phone to him.

“Hisako is on one line, Alice and the family are on the other. I need you to do that charismatic thing you do and make them all stop talking.”

And so he did the charismatic thing and assuaged all their worries and assured them that he would take care of Erina and convinced them that no one needed to be sued.

And then after the calls were over, and no one was planning to fly to Tokyo, he had kissed Erina in that haven’t-seen-you-in-a-month way even though they were together just that morning. Afterwards, he held her for a long while, and Erina found it peculiar that his heart was beating so fast after he had just given two very convincing calm-the-fuck-down speeches.

She had just drawn a breath to call him on his hypocrisy when he half-whispered those words against the shell of her ear. “I love you, Nakiri. Just want to make sure you know that.”

Erina was glad he couldn’t see her face because it was probably redder than a maraschino cherry. She only nodded against his shoulder; of course she knew. She had known since before they opened Canvas, before they were even ‘together’—whatever that meant. It had been so self-evident that there was never a reason to say it directly.

But now he had, and she was still groping for the proper response like a fish washed up on a sandy shore when the doctor came back in to discharge her.

True to his word, Yukihira had taken care of her after the accident. He cooked exactly what she wanted and gave her back massages and responded to all her emails so she didn’t have to spend hours looking at a screen.

And while she appreciated being pampered as much as the next girl, maybe even a little more than the next girl, she couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Yukihira seemed kind of…manic? She didn’t know if manic was really the right word, but she was going to go with it.

He was always busying himself with one task or another—adjusting the thermostat by a single degree to make sure she wasn’t too hot or too cold, forwarding her Totsuki related work to Chef Doujima or Megumi, making sure there was a sufficient amount of dark chocolate in the fridge. And he was sleeping even less than usual and smoking on the balcony when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

Erina wondered, on one rare afternoon when she was left to her own devices—he still had restaurants to run, after all—if this had anything to with the ‘I love you’ thing.

Neither of them had mentioned it after he took her home from the hospital, but she technically didn’t give any response.

To her credit, Erina told him she loved him all the time, in her own way. In her language, “I love you” translated roughly to “Come the fuck to bed” and “That is not your problem” and “Peanut butter does not go on squid.”

Her “I love you” was also hours spent berating his staff for taking advantage of his kindness, and days spent tossing half-empty cartons of cigarettes down the garbage disposal, and years spent trying to work out some of her issues so she could become someone who even remotely deserved him.

She thought that she had made things painstakingly clear, but maybe he just needed to be sure. Erina honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had said those words to anyone other than Hisako, who had needed constant care and reassurance while revising her dissertation, but she supposed she would have to try.

She had been considering the possible merits of saying it in Russian to save face when Megumi arrived at the apartment bearing sweets and hugs and notes from the board meeting she missed the other day.

“Are you feeling any better, Nakiri-san?” the dark haired woman asked.

Erina nodded, biting into one of the macrons she made. “I’m alright,” she said. “Yukihira’s been acting pretty strange, though.”

As she weighed Megumi’s abnormally sharp emotional intelligence against the sting of asking for relationship advice from his ex-girlfriend, the tourism department head nodded solemnly.

“It makes sense that he would be, considering…”

Erina heaved a small sigh, fighting down wave after wave of irritation. Of course she would know exactly what was going on with him. This was why she never asked Megumi for advice. The brain injury must have really gotten to her.

“Considering what, Tadokoro-san?”

The other woman paused, probably shocked that Erina didn’t know the piece of Yukihira trivia that had just flown to the forefront of her mind.

“W-well, I just mean since Souma-kun’s mom died in a car crash it’s natural that he would have a bad reaction to something like that. I’m pretty sure it was around this time of year, too, so…”

So she had been wrong…again. And kind of self-centered…again. Was it any wonder at all why he never told her anything?

Erina rested her still slightly concussed head in her hands. This couldn’t go on any longer.

Erina had spent the next few hours contemplating how she should broach the subject. Assertive as she was in the world of gourmet food, she had never been particularly good with confrontation.

In fact, it fundamentally went against her nature to bring up something like this. But when he came home and started fussing over her again, looking like he hadn’t slept in days, she knew that she had to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, leaning against the counter while he was making them dinner.

“That I’m making paella?”

She rolled her eyes. He really was an idiot. “No,” she said. “About why you’ve been acting so weird since the accident. About your mom.”

Souma looked pretty shocked for a moment, but then the pieces seemed to click in his mind. “Tadokoro did say she was gonna stop by.”

“She assumed I already knew, you know, because we’ve been together for over a year.”

“Look, Nakiri. I didn’t tell you because it’s not something you have to worry about. Just focus on fixing that head of yours.” As he said this, he ruffled her blonde tresses in a way that would usually make her laugh. Or pout. Probably both.

“That’s not how it works, Souma,” she said, her lilac eyes alight with defiance, with determination. “You can’t just try to solve all my problems all the time and then ask me to never worry about you.”

“Nakiri-”

“Look,” she said. “If something like this is bothering you, I want to be able to help you because that’s how it is when you love someone.” She closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. “And I do, you know…love you. Too.”

After this he kissed her, and she was somehow sure that they’d get it right eventually.

“So that’s all the emotion the world’s getting out of you for the year,” he joked.

“For the decade,” she corrected. But she was content to give all of it to him.

#sorina #soueri #shokugeki no soma #nakiri erina

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itsbenedict · 3 years

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Two-Faced Jewel: Session 6.5

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, Looseleaf and Saelhen fought their way to the top of the evil torture tower of the evil torture wizard- only to find out that the guy's been dead for at least a year, and that a dragon has apparently been squatting in his tower. Not content to wait another week to find out what this means, we had an off-schedule mini-session wherein the party finished exploring the unexplored nooks and crannies of Lumiere's Tower.

The first thing to deal with is the thing blocking their return down the stairs- there's a weird big metal coffin-looking dealie that waddled up to the stairs on the fourth floor, but couldn't chase them any further. Going back down, though... they could take a window, but they figure there's no way this thing could be a serious threat. It can barely move, after all- they can probably just push it right over!

Looseleaf pokes it with a stick, and its front splits open down the middle, revealing a giant maw of horrible spikes which snaps at her threateningly.

So it's an iron maiden! Adorable! Still doesn't have legs, or arms, so it's fine, right? They can just stand on the stairs and

whoops nope it's got animated canvas straps inside it that shoot out and ensnare orluthe like a chameleon tongue. okay. so maybe this monster is dangerous actually.

The ensuing fight makes heavy use of a mechanic in D&D called "called shots", where you can take disadvantage on an attack roll in exchange for inflicting some kind of injury on the opponent by hitting them in different specific body parts. They don't want to let Orluthe get shut inside and take a fuckload of stab damage, so they jam Looseleaf's quarterstaff in the doors, slice up its canvas straps, and by force of numbers manage to render nearly all its appendages impotent. The poor torture instrument has disadvantage on all its attack rolls after the called shots go through, and it can't land any more hits! The party eventually wears it down, and Looseleaf lands the finishing blow by scrambling its spirit.

All that's left in their way is the translucent red barrier blocking off the 3rd/4th floor stairs. Not finding anything on the fourth floor to shut it off, they just go via the window like before. Back down on the third floor, Looseleaf uses her spirit sight to notice that the barrier is connected magically to some runes inscribed on the central pillar- it looks like there's some sort of creepy puzzle involving stabbing creepy dolls with creepy doll-sized knives.

Not interested in risking whatever the consequences of solving the puzzle wrong are (given that they already have a way up and down), they move on.

While they're there, Saelhen decides to take another crack at the trapped chest she couldn't open earlier. Rather than risk the trap, she first spends some time expertly disarming the trap built into the lock, before working on the lock itself. A couple good rolls later, and they acquire the treasure! Which is... 60 gold pieces, and a piece of paper with a list of words.

Saelhen fails her Nature check, but Looseleaf recognizes the words on the paper as... the names of craters and other geographical features of the moon.

[WAR_FLASHBACKS.jpg]

No one's quite sure why a list of moon landmarks would be locked up in a highly-secure chest protected by a poison needle trap, but no one rolls high enough on Religion to puzzle it out.

Moving on down, they reach the second floor, which appears to be a laundry room of some sort. The sort where the irons and ironing boards and scrub brushes are alive, and appear to be washing the same clothes over and over and over to the point where most of them have been reduced to sparklingly clean rags. Seems like these animated household objects have been stuck on a loop for a good long time!

There's what appears to be an intact magical cloak hanging on a clothesline in there, but the party opts not to try and take it- doing so would likely provoke some protective laundry automatons.

Saelhen's plan to lure the scrub brush away from the washtub (for... reasons??) fails, since the brush doesn't seem to want to leave the tub- and it's visibly disappointed when Saelhen gives up.

So, they head down to the first floor, finally! As they head down, they're noticed by more animated knives... but it seems these ones have been tasked with cooking a delicious meal, which they happily serve up to the tower's guests! The wheelbarrow from before is there, too, supplying the kitchen with food. The only question is... who's been eating this stuff? Why is the table not covered in rotten, uneaten banquet, if the wizard's been dead? Who's been putting grocery money in the wheelbarrow?

Other things of note in the room...

Benedict I. (GM): The shelves around the center seem to be festooned with various trophies and awards. Looseleaf: trophies. what, like, participation trophies??? school trophies? piano recital trophies?? Benedict I. (GM): These would actually be somewhat recognizable to most of you- you've seen similar things in trophy cases at school. The plaques beneath them seem blacked out in various places- a lot of [REDACTED]. Looseleaf: warball champions of the 1034 school year? Benedict I. (GM): Often built into the plaques. Saelhen du Fishercrown: huh who redacts a plaque Benedict I. (GM): Like, there'll be a flat section of the plaque painted black like it was engraved that way

Looseleaf, with a 20, Investigates a bunch of pertinent information. For instance, a diploma:

Hal Lumiere, PhD in [______]. Blacksky University, Department of Restricted Arts

It appears Hal Lumiere was an alumnus of Blacksky's School of Restricted Arts- the same place Vayen is from. Lumiere was apparently something of a darling there, considering all the awards- but no one in the party has ever heard of him. Except maybe a certain someone who's not telling.

Looseleaf also finds some unopened mail! One is illegible, written in Abyssal, the language of demons.

(Lore note on demons: demons are just like other monsters- evil things that come up from below the mountains and cause trouble. They aren't generally aware of their origins beyond waking up in a deep cave, usually, and aren't motivated by much except causing conflict and hurting people.)

Another letter is written in Common, with just plain awful handwriting:

"hey Lumes why tf arent you home today u fuckin flake ass fairyboy. who am i supposed to get that dank good ouch from if youre off on magic adfentures. this months number shits are: 14.3 6755 304° and then the little bar thing was on the green side but wobbly. now gimmeeeeeee"

It's a bit of an enigma- but even more enigmatic is the third letter Looseleaf finds, written in a hand Looseleaf recognizes. Looseleaf knows who this letter was written by.

"Dr. Lumiere- find enclosed the new spirit hollowing diagrams and the corrected sigil of Aaaaaaagh. This should satisfy our agreement, so I'll leave you with a warning: the lesser gods are not to be trusted." "Yes, their revolution is our best shot at the Project- that much is obvious, barring a road to apotheosis. I understand we need to work with them. I doubt we'll have further contact, so I won't ask you not to reignite this argument- but insofar as it's at all relevant to you in the future, I favor your approach over Kron Green's." "But again, they are not to be trusted. The enemy of our enemy wishes mainly to supplant them, and despite their alliance, not all of them share the same aims. In particular, the one you've taken an interest in seems utterly hostile to the Project. " "If we are to impact the cosmic boardstate, we must play the game. Trust is the abdication of discovery. Choose your allies carefully." And then it is signed with a mark. The mark is of a book, facedown in the way that ruins the spine, sort of shaped to look like a skull. And the initials "Y.T." Looseleaf: youtube. the villain of our story, youtube. Saelhen du Fishercrown: trust is the abdication of discovery, what a goddamn motto Looseleaf: oh my god she's being so edgy well, that is characteristic of her.

She also finds what appears to be a trophy- but the trophy is shaped to look like a globe. Not of the Jewel, but of the moon. Obviously, they take it.

youtube

Some experimentation with the moon trophy seems to indicate that the locations marked on the paper from the chest draw out a sort of connect-the-dots pattern, which might be used elsewhere for some purpose. Whatever the pattern is meant to be used for, there's no indication of it here. All that can reasonably be inferred is that it has some connection to the School of Restricted Arts.

Meanwhile, the bookshelves have a few more things of interest. Amidst textbooks on neurology, magic, and speculative religion on a lower shelf, they find a hand-bound book that seems out-of-place.

Benedict I. (GM): Inside, it appears to be a diary. "i m choss n ths iss MY BOOK," it begins.

It appears to span several years of diary entries, from year 259 to 266- ending seven years before the current date, 273. The handwriting gets progressively less atrocious, and the entries are very sporadic- riddled with apologies to the diary for forgetting to write in it.

Benedict I. (GM): Choss, apparently, is a little girl who grew up in this tower. Initially she was very fond of her dad, the owner of the tower. Looseleaf: initially, huh. that's... a... great sign. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is a cool wizard who does fun magic all the time, which she helps with! She is very proud of how much pain she can withstand, and she's developed this sort of self-image as a connoisseur. Of pain. Saelhen du Fishercrown: hell Saelhen's face is getting progressively... stiffer, as she reads. Not angrier, per se, just... flatter. Benedict I. (GM): She helps out with the experiments except for not being allowed to take the hoods off the subjects in the lab. Looseleaf: Lumiere what the shit. Benedict I. (GM): And when there's no subjects, she fills in, and does a very good job, the best job. There's an entry describing how she designed a security system for her dad- she made some dolls and dad enchanted them so they open the door if you stab them right! She's very proud of it. You now know the order of stabs to disable the barrier. Anyway, the later entries seem to represent... entirely standard teen angst. Looseleaf: Hmm. Benedict I. (GM): Dad is being boring and not letting her do the experiments she wants to do and not letting her visit the towns and ugh dad. She gets fed up with him, and the last entry is about how she's leaving to go start her own life in Wheat. Looseleaf: REALLY NOW. Saelhen du Fishercrown: WELL. Looseleaf: ...god, maybe those rumors about wheat being full of insane murderous murder-os weren't, wrong. Saelhen du Fishercrown: if she is in fact a baby dragon Looseleaf: which is not at all guaranteed, by the way.

If you recall from a few sessions back:

To speak with a dragon is to be condemned to some sort of great misfortune, brought about by your own hand. You know the Simurgh from Worm? Listen to its song for too long, and you become sort of a sleeper agent of self-destructive carnage? It’s like a diet version of that. Whatever path your conversation with the dragon puts you on, it’s invariably bad for you, somehow. The metallic dragons, who’re ostensibly “good”, will still ruin your life in some way just by talking to you, even if your immolation does some good for the world on the way out. Nobody wants to talk to a dragon.

Also discovered in CHOSS BOOK is a brief account of a time she had to go to the basement, using the secret entrance underneath... something. Looseleaf almost immediately checks under the table they're sitting at, and finds... yep! A trapdoor leading to the basement!

Next time: the basement awaits!

#tfj log #twofaced jewel #Youtube

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 04 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 2.7 K

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

Holding What Isn't His

Leaving the hospital is great. You feel like you're seeing the city for the first time because, in a way, you are. Keanu keeps the small talk as he drives, telling you about your schedules with the doctors. You'll be going to the hospital a lot, but you rather go there than staying.

Once you get to the house, you can't help but look around. The night has already fallen, but you know that the many glass walls will allow the light to come in during the day. Carrying your bag, Keanu gives you a quick tour through the first floor before guiding you upstairs. He's silent now, but you don't want to ask why. There are four bedrooms and a huge balcony. The view is amazing too, and you can't believe you live here.

“This is our bedroom,” Keanu says as he opens a door. Peaking inside, you see an amazing bedroom. A king-size bed is placed between two windows that reach from floor to ceiling. On the left side, a balcony with a sliding door. There's a small lounge on the corner, with a couch, an armchair, and a TV. You stand by the door, not sure if you should step further inside. “The house is new, so we're still working on the decoration.”

“It looks nice to me.” You mutter, putting a strand of hair behind your ear.

“All of your stuff is here, but you can sleep in the guest room if that will make you feel more comfortable.”

Oh. You haven't thought about that. “Uhm... I don't know.” It would be weird to sleep with Keanu, but you don't want him to be sad or anything. “I don't want you to think that I don't want to be with you, I just–”

“Hey, listen.” He puts the bag down and comes to stand before you. Keanu is very tall, and he towers over you. Raising your head to look at him, you sigh. “This is about you. I'll be happy as long as you're comfortable. So do what you have to do, alright?"

Taking a deep breath, you nod, looking down. Shyly, with your stomach burning a little, you take his hand. You're don't know where the gesture comes from, but you just need him to know you're here... And you need to know he's here too. “Just for a few days, I... I just need a while to get used to everything.”

“Take your time.” His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and it makes you smile a little. “It's a little late. You should get some rest.”

“Yeah.” You had dinner at the hospital, and it's almost ten. Nodding you run a hand through your hair. “Can I take a shower first? I don't know where any of my stuff is so...”

“Let me show you.” And so he does.

Keanu has a closet, and your stuff occupies half of it. He walks you around it, and you pick an old baggy shirt and sweatpants before heading to the bathroom. Keanu assures you can use his, and you decide not to refuse the offer. He kindly helps you settle down in the guest room when you're done, telling you to call him if you need anything. But, after lingering for some minutes, he leaves, turning the lights off before closing the door.

Surrounded by darkness, you lie on your side, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. Sleep does come easier this time, knowing you're home. But you wake up a while later, eyes on the digital clock finding it's two in the morning. You do try to fall asleep again, but this time your mind won't let you. You're tired, exhausted even, of trying to remember. You want so bad to remember Keanu. To remember the plans you made for the baby, the time you've shared. This isn't fair to anyone. Not even to the life growing inside you. You can't help but blame yourself a little for putting an unborn child through such an accident, even though Keanu told you it wasn't your fault some crazy driver came speeding through the road. And, on top of all that, you might just be depriving Keanu of enjoying the pregnancy. You don't remember who you were before, or what you believed in, but you know this is something to be appreciated by both parts.

“Damn it.” You complain tossing around and sighing with the sudden need to eat something, you're not sure what. Trying to keep your mind still, eyes shut, you pull one of the pillows and hug it. But soon enough you're beyond frustrated, eyes rolling as you push yourself up, stopping for just a moment to wait for the dizziness to pass.

Tiptoeing, you walk through the hall, using the walls to guide you through the darkness since you don't know the place at all. Finding the kitchen is also a challenge since you don't want to turn any lights on until you get there. But when you reach the kitchen, you can't find the freaking switch, but you do manage to find the fridge, pulling the door open. Your eyes welcome the light, but you blink a little until you get used to it. Something in you says you shouldn't be opening his fridge like this, but this is your home, right? Maybe you're just overthinking.

“There gotta be something.” Mumbling you glance at your stomach, a small smile crossing your lips. “Is you, isn't it? You want some sugar.” You ask the baby, focusing your attention on the fridge again, scanning through it, trying to find anything you'd want to eat.

“Everything alright?” The voice comes with the lights being turned on, and you jump a little, pushing the fridge door closed. Turning on your heels, a hand on your heart, you find Keanu with an apologetic look. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

“It's alright, I was just looking for something sweet to eat, Uhm... The baby wants what it wants.” Shrugging your shoulders, you walk to the kitchen island, blushing a little, not sure why though.

“Did you find anything?” He asks, moving to stand across from you.

Shyly, you shake your head no. “I didn't, but I'm alright. I'm not hungry. It's just... Hormones, I think.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't do much grocery shopping while you were at the hospital, but I'll fix it.” He gives you a look you can't read. “I'll go get you something. There are a lot of stores opened twenty-four hours.”

“No, please.” You burst out, quickly walking around the island to reach Keanu when he starts walking to the living room. Grabbing his forearm, you succeed to make him stop. “You don't have to, really. I told you, I'm not hungry. You don't have to go out there in the middle of the night just because I'm having cravings.”

“Of course I have to.” He turns to face you completely, and you give a tiny step back just to have a better look at him. “Just tell me what you want. I'll put on a jacket and get going.”

“Please, Ke. I mean it, you don't have to.” When you realize the way you called him, you immediately look down, feeling heat spreading through your cheeks.

“I'm going. So you can either tell me what you want or I'll have to get creative and try to find out.” He says after a while of silence. But despite the ultimatum, he's voice is soft.

“I'm coming too then.” You quickly decide, crossing your arms and looking back at him, putting a face that means you won't change your mind. “And that's not debatable.” You add.

Despite the darkness, you see a smile playing on his lips.

Keanu doesn't complain, and half an hour later you're seating shotgun in his car in this grocery store parking lot, taking the piece of vanilla pie he bought you, with strawberries on top. Using a plastic fork, you start eating, your body immediately grateful for the shot of sugar. Or maybe it's just your head, but it is delicious.

“Do you want some?” Turning your body towards him, you fold a leg underneath you.

“No, thank you.” Keanu smiles, shaking his head lightly.

“Are you sure?” Taking one of the strawberries, you bite it, sucking on your thumb when you notice you got some frosting on it.

“I am.” He assures you, starting the car again. Sitting back straight and buckling up, you focus on your pie, watching the city lights passing through the window. “Remember when I told you about how our marriage was a secret? That we wanted to keep it private for as long as we could?”

“I do.” Nodding, you finish the pie, laying the empty plastic box on your lap. Keanu told you that at the hospital. He's a public figure, and you agreed on keeping your relationship only to yourselves. “Why?”

“People will know now. The news are already spreading ever since I took you to the hospital.” He glances at you. “I just wanted you to know. It won't be a secret anymore.”

“Alright.” Nodding, you turn your attention back at the window. “I'm a little dizzy.” You mutter, running a hand through your hair.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“No, I'm alright.” Closing your eyes, you try to focus on anything else than your sick stomach. Or the headache.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” The offer gets you by surprise, eyes opening to look at Keanu. You can't help but wonder if you usually hold hands as he drives, or if he's just trying to help you feel better.

After a few seconds considering it, you nod, quickly taking his hand. Intertwining your fingers with his, you breathe in deeply, the free hand laying on your stomach. “So... We should watch some of your movies.” Trying to distract yourself, you bring up the subject.

“Sure.” He stops by the red light, taking the time to look at you. “There's Matrix. It's about a programmer who is faced with the fact that his reality is controlled.” The light turns green and you start moving again. “There's John Wick. He's an assassin and this guy kills his dog so he starts hunting him down.”

“Who would kill a dog?”

Keanu chuckles, taking a turn left. “You'll like it.”

“Yeah. We should watch it... Together, I mean.” Quickly, you add, wondering if that's something he'd like to do. “When you have time, of course.”

“You're my priority now,” Keanu says, thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I took some time from the company I work at, so I'll be around a lot.”

“Alright.” Smiling, you nod.

You're almost falling asleep when the car stops, but you manage to push the door open and get out of the car. Keanu offers help, but you politely decline. He walks you to your room anyway, waiting until you lie down.

The night goes by faster after that, and the sunlight on your face is what bugs you enough to make you turn around, pulling the blankets over your head. But you're already awake, and hungry, so you just lie there for a few minutes before deciding to get up. It's funny how the first thing you think about every morning when you wake up is the child inside your belly. Caressing your still flat stomach, you smile. “Hi there, baby.” You whisper, wondering if he or she can hear you. “Why don't we... Why don't we go see if your daddy is awake?” Voice still weak, you blush to yourself to say such a thing, even in the privacy of your room. How could you do that? Get Keanu's eyes and marry him? He's not only handsome, but he has proven to be kind, caring, and loving. He's amazing.

Walking down the hall, you're about to knock on Keanu's bedroom door when you hear a noise downstairs and an awesome smell reaches you. It doesn't take much to you recognize it's bacon. He can't be making bacon, because it doesn't matter if you don't remember anything, you know a morning with bacon is perfect. Quickly, you go straight to the kitchen, stopping by the open area, observing Keanu from a distance. He is making bacon and something else, skilfully moving through the kitchen. But when he turns around, he spots you, raising his eyebrows. “Hey.” You mutter, smiling, and walking over him.

“Hi, beautiful,” Keanu says, and the pet name makes you blush. Placing both plates down, you see what he made. Waffles and bacon, a dish that looks a little more complicated than you thought. “Made you something nice.”

“It smells absolutely amazing.” Feeling timid suddenly, you lean against the countertop. “What do we do when we wake up?”

“What do you mean?” Keanu asks, taking both plates and gesturing for you to follow him to the square wooden table he has in the kitchen.

“Uhm... Do we just wake up and...” Running a hand through your hair, you don't really know why you brought it up. It just felt a little cold. “I don't know. Do we just say ‘hi’ and that's it?” Watching as he puts both plates down, you awkwardly stand beside him.

Keanu looks down at you, those dark eyes making you stand up a little straighter, involuntary moving just a bit closer. “We usually hug.” He says after some seconds of silence.

The idea makes you smile. Waking up and hugging your husband, surrounded by this amazing smell in such a beautiful morning. “Let's hug then.” You give the idea, but you don't move, unsure if he'll even want to do that. Maybe, just maybe, Keanu feels like you're a stranger too. You may look like his wife, but only on the outside. Inside, everything is gone. This thought makes your heart sink, and you step back, looking down with some tears starting to pool in your eyes. “I-I'm sorry, I just thought that... Nevermind.” You're turning around, seeking a chair to seat when you feel Keanu gently grabbing your arm.

“Come here.” He calls in a low voice, delicately pulling you into his open arms.

You collapse against his chest, trying hard not to cry. Hugging his midsection, you can't help but notice how smaller you are compared to him. But this makes you feel safe, secure. Allowing his heartbeat to calm you down, you take a deep breath, the pain in your chest fading away. You don't want to let go, but you know you'll have to in a while. You can't just hold on to Keanu forever, and this is supposed to be just a good morning hug.

He's been lying to her for a while now, on a regular basis. About why people didn't know about her, about why they still haven't chosen the baby's room. And now, he just said they use to hug. They don't.

As Keanu has his arms around her, embracing, holding the girl tightly against him, he can't help but curse himself. He wishes this could be real. Maybe, in completely different circumstances or another reality. But not here. She's still (Y/N), and he's still just looking after her. Making her feel safe, so her child will be safe too. Her child alone, not his.

A single sob escapes her lips as he rubs her back softly. He doesn't want to let go, but he knows he has to. (Y/N) isn't his, it doesn't matter how much Keanu wishes it could be different. But for now, he's willing to be what she needs. To hug her every morning. Keanu's mind is moving faster than ever, too many conflicting thoughts racing through. But right now, just for this brief moment, he'll let all those things go. He'll just hold her.

It takes a while, but (Y/N) moves, stepping back and raising her head to look into his eyes. Keanu swears he loses himself in her for a moment, like he's drowning. She smiles, sighing, wiping off a tear that rolled down.

“Well, good morning.” She mumbles, a small smile crossing her lips. Keanu reluctantly let go, gesturing for her to sit and that's what she does.

He can't help but smile too, all the way through breakfast. He answers her questions, taking in her face, lit up by the morning light coming through the windows. His heart is full like it has never been before. How could a woman he met only a while ago make him feel this way? It's insane, yet, Keanu doesn't want to feel any different.

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina

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