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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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thewriterwithnoplan · 5 months

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Ferrari's Fairytale (1/3)

Summary: World Championships are the most important part of any Formula One team's history. Except perhaps, Ferrari's. Known for their rabid fans, filthy-rich investors, and pretty boy drivers it shouldn't be a surprise that the team has brought together Soulmates from across the globe. And fate, it seems, is working awfully hard to put all the pieces into place for Ferrari's perfect fairytale - one that's been in the works for decades now.

[Part 1 of Pretty Girls and Ferrari Boys]

Soulmate AU: Soulmates share injuries and pain.

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader (Eventual)

Word Count: 1650

Warnings: Swearing, no Charles in this first part sorry it's his epic love story and those take time ;)

Masterlist

There was something wrong with your soulmate.

Really there had been something wrong with them since you were eight years old. But right now, there was something particularly wrong with them.

“Just some bruising over the ribcage, but no actual damage internally.” The medic presses a latex covered hand gently against your ribs.

“They feel broken.” You suck in a pained breath and glare over her shoulder, at the little framed picture of her cat, Terror, on her desk. “You’re sure I’m not about to sneeze and puncture a lung?”

“Funny.” Though the look she gives you as she pulls off her gloves is less than amused. “Which one of us went to medical school again?”

“My best friend. You might know her. She’s stunning, generous, gives me free check-ups, did I say stunning? Goes by Sunny.”

“It’s Doctor Sunny to you.” She slingshots one of the gloves at you. “But it’s good to know you only keep me around for the free check-ups.”

“My soulmate would bankrupt me without you.”

Sunny taps at her computer, “The fee isn’t that high.”

“Sure,” You shrug. “If you aren’t in here every other week.”

“Have we ruled out hitman as their profession?”

“Since we were eight?”

“I don’t know much about hitmen, maybe they start them young.”

You lower yourself carefully from the observation table and move stiffly toward her desk. “Give it to me straight Doc. How much longer have I got?”

“I’m afraid you’ll live, ma’am.” Sunny doesn’t even look up. “A tragedy for all, I know. I can give you a moment if you need time to process– Ow! Bitch.”

She rubs at her shoulder and huffs.

“I’m going to have to log that in the database, you know.” She says.

“Good, maybe we can both find our soulmates and be done with it all.”

“Real romantic, dude.”

“Your soulmate hasn’t been terrorising you since you were a kid.”

“I had my fair share of scraped knees,” Sunny wrinkles her nose when you stick your tongue out. “You do know it won’t stop after the two of you meet, right? That’s a schoolyard myth.”

“After the talking to I’m going to give him, you bet your perky ass it’s going to stop.”

“That’s the second instance of workplace harassment I’ve coped from you in the last minute.”

“Fine. Your ass is not perky.”

“Mature.” She hums, “What time did you say the pain started?”

“Ten-thirty-ish?”

“All good then.” Sunny makes a few more clicks before powering down her computer. “Your chest and my arm, all nice and logged.”

“You know, sometimes I think you became a Match Medic specifically so you could put every little thing into the database to make it easier to find your soulmate.”

“Perks of the job.” She scoops up her handbag. “Come on, let’s bounce before the front desk starts scheduling over my lunch break.”

“You remember how I said you were stunning and generous and stunning?”

“I’m not buying you lunch.”

“Could this week get any worse?” You throw your head back dramatically.

Sunny cracks a smile at your antics, “Only a few more hours and we’re free for the weekend.”

“Are we still on for pamper-night tonight?”

“Always. Mine or yours?”

You end up spending the night in Sunny’s apartment, covered in different rejuvenating oils and masks until you look like low-budget horror movie villains. In your fluffy robes with The Princess Bride on in the background Sunny tries to teach you how to make Hainanese Chicken the way her mother did. Terror cries at your feet when you tell him he can’t have raw chicken. Sunny pops a bottle of cheap champagne that makes you both grimace and promise one another that you would find an excuse to get a nicer bottle soon. You take turns washing the excess from the face, foot, and hair masks off. Then curl up together on the couch, sipping broth, digging into rice and slathering chicken in Sunny’s family’s super-secret chilli sauce. You both fall asleep at a very respectable eleven o’clock.

So, it’s fucking strange when you wake up feeling like you had spent the night inside a paint mixer.

“Are you okay?” Sunny frowns as she stands over a pan of eggs. “You look ill.”

You squint over your coffee cup, “Soulmate is playing up.”

She plates the eggs next to a small stack of bacon before turning to put a hand to your forehead. “They shouldn’t be making you feel sick, illness doesn’t transfer like that. Are you sure it’s coming from them? Could you just be hung over?”

“It’s definitely him, third weekend in a row, like clockwork.” You take your plate gratefully, “It’s like I always tell you. It’s not nausea. It’s more like…”

“Impossible to explain for you and every medical practitioner you’ve ever seen?”

You groan, “It’s like my brain spent the night trying to escape my skull and the muscles in my neck were in on it.”

“It’s not unheard of for soulmates to feel the repercussions of an intense work out. There was this study from four years ago on high performance athletes and their partners that–”

You groan again, “Oh god and now there’s a nerd in my ear!”

She tosses a gelatinous bit of egg onto your plate. It lands with a splat that makes you fake gag. “Oh, grow up.”

“You should be nice to me,” You lament, “I’m wounded!”

“Your soulmate is wounded.”

“And I’m sure their best friend is taking very good care of them!”

She pulls a face at you but still takes your plate to the dishwasher for you. As she’s rinsing them, she asks, “What’s on for the rest of your weekend?”

“I got a call from my parents on Thursday and guess what?” You sipped at the cold dregs of your coffee, “The dentist finally figured out which one of them the toothache is coming from!”

“That’s great,” Sunny’s smile was genuine. “They’re going in to get it fixed?”

“Tomorrow morning, both going under local anaesthesia.”

You hip checked her lightly out of the way to rinse both your cups. “You want another coffee?”

Sunny propped herself up on the counter, “My caffeine addiction is rubbing off on you I fear.”

“Listen, we have to get through the day somehow.” You coaxed the machine back to life before leaning against the counter to look at Sunny. “Anyway, my parents were supposed to go to this race tomorrow. Dad is particularly devastated and has practically ordered me to represent the family ‘at our home race.’ It’s been tradition for him and mum since they got married. It’s kind of a big deal for him. The man is obsessive.”

“My parents had something similar to say about our family legacy and studying medicine.”

“Speaking of… You remember all the times I sat up with you studying, or brought you food when you forgot to eat, or ran errands for you, or made sure you took breaks, or–”

“Fine, I get it, I’ll go to the stupid race.”

“Oh, how kind of you to offer.” You passed her one of the cups. “It won’t be that bad. Motorsports are supposed to be fun live, right?”

Sunny snorted, “Thank God. Motorsports? I thought you meant like a horse race or a marathon. I was getting war-flashbacks to track-and-field.”

You put a hand to your heart, “You were willing to relive cross country for me?”

“I was willing to ogle fit, sweaty men for you, definitely.”

“Alright, first of all – fuck you. But also same,” You clinked mugs and nodded solemnly at one another, “Maybe we can find some fit, sweaty drivers to ogle instead.”

Sunny hummed, “What do I wear? Is it like sprint cars or more like V8s – ooh is it an illegal drag race?”

“Girl, no.” You swatted at her thigh, “It’s Formula 1, which is perfectly legal and safe and much faster than any of those options.”

“Alright, Miss Daddy’s-Girl, go off.”

“Shut up, I’ve had to hear him go on and on about it my whole life.” You pulled a face at your coffee. “The man has had a hard-on for Ferrari since before he met my mother, and then he met her in the Ferrari hospitality at an F1 race, and he’s fucking worshipped them ever since.”

“Oh my god, why am I only just hearing about this?” She grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks and cooing. “You’re a little Ferrari baby.”

You blew a rather unladylike raspberry at her and knocked her hand away, “Because it’s embarrassing! Dad was only there because he and his friend won tickets. So, when Ferrari marketing caught wind that soulmates had met in their pavilion, they practically fell over themselves.”

“Holy shit!” Sunny practically howled in delight, “Is that where all those baby pictures of you in little Ferrari onesies came from?”

“Ferrari’s own little fairytale, Mr-won-his-way-in and Miss-heir-to-a-real-estate-monopoly. It's like Romeo and Juliet; if Romeo and Juliet survived, had a kid and decided to make it the poster child of their love story.”

“Don’t sound so disgusted, that’s cute as fuck.” Sunny snatches up your empty cup and stacks it next to hers in the dishwasher.

You frown, “Not everything has to be a love story.”

“I don’t know, girl, I’m pretty sure you just asked me to play out your parents first meeting with you tomorrow.” She winks at you over her shoulder as she heads toward her room.

“Oh, fuck off, Sunny.”

“I think this calls for new outfits!” She emerges from her room, towel over one shoulder. “What was your Mum wearing when she met your dad?”

“We are not reenacting my parents meet-cute.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have your own meet-cute with a certain pain-prone soulmate, hm?” In the moment it takes you to reorientate yourself after her comment, she’s breezing past you with a bright, “I’m having first shower!”

You squark in indignation. Like hell, you’ll let either of those things happen to you this weekend.

(Part 2 : Ferrari's Prince - 03.05.24)

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfiction

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sophrosynesworld · 3 months

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Nostalgia's Table

I don't know if this is good, I haven't really edited it, so be warned haha.

"I’m so sorry I ran late, you guys. Apparently, villains never take a break for dinner," I apologize, shrugging off my coat as I join my friends. The chill from outside still clings to me, but the warmth radiating from the stoves inside the cozy restaurant makes it much more bearable.

Ochaco stands up from her seat and wraps me in a welcoming hug. "You can sit next to Sero," she says with a warm smile, gesturing to the empty spot beside him. I return her smile and slide into the seat, feeling a sense of relief and comfort in the familiar company.

The table is already covered with plates of food and steaming mugs of hot tea, the rich aroma mingling with the scent of beef and sauces.

"So, how did it go with the villain?" Ochaco asks, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she sips her drink.

I let out a sigh. "It was a tough one. He had this really tricky ability to create illusions, making it a real pain to pin him down. But we finally managed to corner him in an old warehouse. The fight was intense, but we got him."

"Sounds like you had all the fun," Bakugo grumbles, though there's a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Yeah, it wasn't fun at all," I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "The paperwork was the worst part. By the time I finished, my hand felt like it was going to fall off."

Kirishima laughs, a bright, infectious sound. "Well, at least you're here now. We've missed you."

I smile, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the stoves. "I've missed you guys too. It's good to be back."

As the night goes on, our drunken conversations flow easily, filled with laughter and stories. We share our recent adventures, joke about our mishaps, and for a little while, the worries of hero work fade into the background.

"Remember that time in our first year when Kaminari short-circuited himself trying to show off?" Kirishima chuckles, shaking his head.

"Oh man, he was out of it for hours," Mina giggles. "Kept asking if he could borrow someone's 'brain waves' to recharge."

"And then there was that one time when Sero's tape got stuck on Principal Nezu's chair," I chime in. "He tried to play it cool, but you could see the panic in his eyes."

"Yeah, and who can forget Deku saving the world a million times," Bakugo smirks, rolling his eyes. "Who has that much beef with a 15-year-old?"

Midoriya, sitting across from us, blushes but laughs along. "Hey, it worked out in the end, didn't it?"

"We were such a mess back then," Momo smiles holding up her bottle of sake. "I can’t believe they let us become pro heroes after all." Sizzling sounds of meat cooking on the grill and the aroma of seasoned beef, pork, and vegetables fill the air.

"Pass me the tongs," Bakugo says, reaching for another slice of marinated beef. "You all remember the first time we did this? Half of you didn't even know how to use the grill."

"Yeah, like that time when Kaminari almost set the place on fire," Kirishima laughs, nudging Kaminari playfully. "You poured way too much oil, dude!"

Kaminari grins sheepishly. "Hey, it was an honest mistake. Plus, it made for a good story!"

The grill sizzles with new additions of meat and vegetables, the table fills with side dishes like kimchi, pickled radish, and bowls of steaming rice.

"And who can forget the time when Uraraka tried to use her Quirk to make the meat float?" I add, grinning. "We ended up with a piece of beef stuck to the ceiling."

Uraraka laughs, covering her face with her hands. "I was just trying to make it more fun! Who knew it would stick like that?"

"Good times," Kirishima says, raising his glass. "We've come a long way from those days, but it's nice to know we can still get together and have fun."

We all raise our glasses, toasting to friendship and the shared memories that have shaped us. The conversation continues with more stories and laughter as we savor the delicious BBQ. Bakugo, despite his tough exterior, expertly grills the meat, ensuring everyone has their fill.

"So, what's next for everyone?" I ask between bites, curious about my friends' plans.

"More hero work, of course," Midoriya replies, his eyes shining with determination. "We've got to keep improving and protecting everyone."

"Maybe we can go to the beach this summer" Todoroki suggests.

With a shared enthusiasm, everyone nods, anticipation already building for the next gathering. Our phones buzz in unison, agencies summoning us. Our gazes dart from one another, ensuring we share the same urgent message.

Phones are stashed in pockets, coats hurriedly donned, and cash tossed onto the counter to settle the bill.

"Ready for a team-up?"

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watcheraurora · 9 days

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Avian Scar? Avian Scar!

Aka a ficlet that wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it 837 words

—

“Scar—oh, Scar—your wings!” Grian lamented, slipping into a landing on his scaled, bare feet as his Elytra disengaged. He regained his bearings and approached Scar, looking at the grey-and-white harpy eagle wings tucked to Scar’s back. “Scar—why aren’t you taking care of them?”

“I am!” Scar blustered.

The gills on Grian’s neck lifted and settled. “You’re not,” he said.

“Yes I am! I’m keeping them clean and I wash them off in the shower every night.”

“Scar, you’re not supposed to soap them unless they get covered in mud or blood or something. You’re supposed to rinse them and then oil them while you reorder the feathers.”

“Well isn’t someone just all hoity-toity!”

Grian leveled him with a sarcastic eyebrow. “Come on. I spent the better part of four seasons with wings—apart from that bit where I was a mushroom. I know how to care for them now. Sit down.” He pushed Scar over to a bench at the train station and prodded until Scar sat down. Then set down his Ender Chest and pulled out a bucket of water and a brush. “Lucky you, I got a new one for this season, not realizing I was going to be aquatic this time. Guess I got too used to the wings.”

“What’s that?”

“This is a preening brush. Birds preen their feathers with their beaks. Our fingers are the wrong shape and material, so we have to do it with brushes. Here.” Grian passed the brush over. Scar took it. And stared at it. Silently. For several looong seconds.

“Wh… what do I do with this?”

“Stick your wings out. Let me rinse the grit out from between the feathers first. Then I’ll show you.”

Scar extended his wings to either side of him. They weren’t as lustrous as they’d been Day One. Limp and dull in color. The feathers brittle. Shaggy. Falling apart. Grian was astounded he could still manage to fly at all.

Quickly but carefully, he rinsed Scar’s wings, reordering the twisted feathers where he could, pulling out ones that had fallen but got caught, and occasionally picking out the larger debris. He worked quickly and quietly. So used to tuning out one of Scar’s silence-filling rambles about something inane that it took him until the start of the second wing to realize Scar was silent.

“What? No Disney news for me today?” Grian ribbed playfully.

Scar’s eyes—vibrant green against the forest he’d built by hand—were tracking every single movement of Grian’s hands. “How… how are you doing that so fast?”

“Practice. Like I said. I had wings for like five years.” Grian shrugged.

“Do you miss them?”

“Yeah. But it’s fun to branch out every so often. Be something new. And I managed to learn how an Elytra works. It’s not the same as bird wing flight but it’s close enough.”

“Why do you think I got the wings?” Scar asked.

Another shrug. “Zookeeper? You love your animals so much your code decided to make you part. I started this world normal. Not even wings for the first time in a few seasons. And then I got so obsessed with fishing that my code slowly adjusted to make me aquatic. It’s one of those pieces of this universe that just… make no sense, I guess. But you’ll have to learn to take care of these.” Grian finished the second wing. “Now let me show you how to oil them on your own. See this spot right here?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s your oil gland. You spread the preening oil over your wings from there. Hold the brush like—” He took Scar’s wrist and the brush and adjusted how Scar held the handle of the brush. “There you go. Now drag it down in the direction the feathers grow. With the grain. Like brushing hair. That’s it.”

Grian guided Scar through, remarkably patient. Scar tried to learn. He really did. It wasn’t his fault that his memory was a leaky tap and dripped things away to the point where he forgot them. But he wanted to learn. So he tried.

“Hey, uh, G? Will you, uh, keep helping me? I’m not gonna get the hang of this for a long while.”

Grian’s smile was exasperated—but also touched. “Sure. I can do that. But promise me you’ll take care of them.”

“I will, I will! Just need someone to show me how. A lot.” Scar chuckled. Grian joined in. “I appreciate it, y’know. You helping me.”

“Yeah, well. You need all the help you can get,” Grian teased. He giggled and used a rocket to shoot into the air.

Scar’s wings beat and he ascended right behind. “Oh no you don’t! You get back here, mister!”

Grian’s high-pitched giggles and full-bodied cackles rang through the sky as Scar chased him around Cherry Mountain.

Down below, Gem rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Weirdos,” she said fondly. She grabbed her Impulse goat horn and gave it a blow.

“Hohmygod!”

Grian’s cackling got louder, joined by Scar’s laugh.

#hermitcraft #GTWS #Grian #goodtimeswithscar #what is this why does it exist? your guess is as good as mine #just wanted some avian scar I guess #Aurora Writes #Rory Writes

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nervousgardenerkid · 2 years

Note

steve request because i’m a steve simp first and a person second—

no thoughts, head empty, just cooking with steve and trying to have a chill domestic fluff moment but all the kids are over in the other room complaining about how long it’s taking—

much love bestie <333

Sunday kind of love

a/n: bestie,,this is probably the cutest thing i've ever written. like im OBSESSED😭i hope you enjoy it! credit to the gif owner!

warnings: tooth rotting fluff (it's so cute) no female pronouns are used but the term girlfriend is, steve being madly in love with reader

Winters in Hawkins had two phases. The first phase was the beginning of winter. Colder breezes came by, and it looked a little gloomier than usual. The trees were bare and the colorful leaves that once sat upon the branches were now on the floor, soggy from the frost that painted them overnight. The second phase was your favorite. You'd go to bed with a bare yard and wake up with a white blanket of snow there instead.

It was currently Sunday morning. You woke up with a quiet groan and shivered from the lack of warmth you felt. You reach your hand out feeling for the warm body that was next to you when you fell asleep, but when you don't feel him you lift your head and open your eyes. You pout when you're met with an empty bed, trying to think of where he went but your thoughts are cut short when you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. With a quiet tsk leaving your mouth, you get out of the bed, grab your shorts that were on the floor, and put them on. You shiver from the coolness of the room and walk over to the dresser grabbing the first long-sleeve top you find. Once you slip it over your head you quietly make your way downstairs smiling when you hear him humming a soft tune.

You peek your head around the corner, your heart growing three times its size at the sight in front of you. Steve is biting down on his lower lip as he reads the measurements on the back of the box he's holding. His eyes flick up toward you and he gives you an award-winning smile. You walk into the kitchen, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you place a kiss on his cheek.

“Morning Stevie.”

“Morning baby,” he mumbles while bringing you closer to him and placing a kiss on the crown of your head. You let out a hum when you start to smell all of the delicious food he's making. Untangling yourself from his arms you turn toward the stove grabbing a piece of bacon Steve had laid out on a plate.

“Hey, don't go crazy now. The kids will flip if they don't have bacon with their pancakes.”

You swallow the food that's in your mouth and pop the other half of bacon into Steve’s.

“Did you get eggos for El?”

He nods his head before swallowing his food.

“Got her plate of eggos right here.”

You hop onto the counter and smile when Steve brings over a bowl of pancake batter. He starts stirring occasionally, glancing at you with a smile on his face.

“Do you need help with anything?”

He stops to think about it.

“Actually, can you get the hash browns out of the freezer and start cooking them? I already have the pan out for it, all you need is a bit of oil and just put them on the pan.”

You smile and hop off the counter going to the freezer to get started on the hash browns. A comfortable silence falls over you and Steve as you both listen to the song that's playing on the radio. Steve hums along quietly and smiles at what he hears from you.

“So, when were you going to tell me that you were a master in the kitchen?”

He chuckles. “I wouldn't say master,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I dunno, I guess I just learned along the way. I mean, my parents weren't around and a boy’s gotta eat.”

He flips a pancake onto a plate before pouring more batter on the hot pan.

“Figured I could learn a thing or two while they were gone.”

“Besides throwing insane parties?” you giggle out.

“Last time I checked, you liked those insane parties,” he mumbles while wrapping his arms around you.

“Wrong, I liked the boy who threw the insane parties.”

Steve smiles at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, do you know if he's single?”

He pretends to think about it before snapping his fingers. “You know, I think heard he's crazy in love with his beautiful girlfriend.”

You pout.

“Darn, I guess you'll have to do.” you giggle out while leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“Lucky me,” he mumbles against your lips. Before the kiss could get passionate you hear footsteps coming into the kitchen then collective groans.

“Can you guys not make out above our food?” Dustin grumbled out while rubbing his eyes.

“Give them a break, they're in love.”

“Yeah. They're in love.” Max and El giggled while lightly pushing each other. Soon enough Lucas, Mike, and Will joined their friends in the kitchen all of them mumbling good morning to each other. You smile at them and grab the plate of bacon and hash browns before nodding over at the dining room table.

“Go sit down, Steve and I will bring the food.”

“We will?”

You shush him before following the kids into the dining room and placing down the plates of food you held. Steve watched with a smile on his face as you asked Will to grab plates. His heart swelled in his chest as Will passed out the plates and you poured everyone a cup of orange juice, rolling your eyes when Mike said he prefers apple juice.

Steve was never sure why his parents got such a big dining table when it was always just the three of them, but right now he's thankful they did. He watches with warm eyes as everyone starts to grab the food that's laid out in front of them, some giggling at the jokes that are being told while the others are still trying to fully wake up. You walk into the kitchen and flip over the pancake that Steve was making earlier.

“You okay? You almost burnt the pancakes.”

“I love you,” he whispers while wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you close to him.

You both sway to the song on the radio with smiles on your faces.

“I love you too.”

“I want to start a family with you.”

Your eyes widen and Steve laughs a beautiful laugh. He moves some hair out of your face before he continues.

“Not now obviously, but eventually. I want a family and I want it to be with you.”

You lean in, closing the space between you, and give him the softest kiss he's ever received in his life. Steve feels like he's on a cloud, lips following yours as you pull away from him to put the pancake on the plate with the rest.

“We’ll have a family soon Steve.”

He smiles wide and you can see stars in his eyes

“Yeah? You mean it?”

You kiss his cheek and grab the pancakes and eggos for the kids.

“I wouldn't have it any other way. For now, let's focus on our other family, yeah?” you asked while gesturing to the kids.

Our family. His heart clenches in the best way possible as the words replay in his head on loop. He grabs the plates out of your hands and kisses the crown of your head, stopping when you grab his arm gently.

“You know,” you start. His curious eyes looking at you. “Just because we can't have a family yet, doesn't mean we can't practice starting one.”

He tilts his head a bit, confused before it sets in.

“Kids!” he shouts, making his way to the dining table. “Let's get you all fed and back to your parents! I'm sure they miss you all so much.”

Dustin grabs a pancake and looks at Steve.

“Actually, can I stay here till later? My mom isn't home-”

“You can stay with Mike.”

You cleared your throat and shook your head. “Of course, you can Dustin, we still have some movies to watch anyways.”

Dustin opens his mouth ready to thank you but stops when he sees Steve’s icy glare.

“You know what, I think I'll stay with Mike,” he said with a smile.

You walk by Steve pinching his arm, holding back your giggle when he jumps a bit. He follows you into the kitchen.

“You know, when we have kids they’re gonna throw off plans a lot.”

Steve shook his head. “Not our kids. Our kids are gonna be the best.”

“Oh, are they now?” you challenge.

“Of course they are! All six of them,” he says while backing into the dining room to eat with the kids.

You laugh but stop when you hear what he says.

“Wait, did you say six?!”

taglist <3

@cityofidek @spideyjass @simpingoverfictionalppl

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things blurb #stranger things fluff

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outro-jo · 1 year

Text

new moon, new vibes

pairing: bang chan x gn reader

type: one shot

warnings: practicing witchcraft, mentions of deities, use of florida water, kinda spicy alluded at the end but nothing at all in detail… i can’t think of anything else 😂

notes: this is how i would practice but this is not a tutorial nor am i teaching you how to do things. if you want to practice witchcraft, please do your own research! this is just a self indulgent piece of writing and it is fiction 🫰🏻don’t come to me for questions lmao i’m sorry but i’m not a teacher. i just study for myself and incorporate things as i see fit. there are practitioners who teach, i am not one of them for my own idk… safety isn’t the right word bc like i’m protected but like mental health… i’m in and out of my practice sm it feels hypocritical to teach so just don’t ask 😂 i can give resources tho and google is ✨free✨ 🤍 also, i wouldn’t really request another one of these. the new moon in virgo said, “bitch, do something” 😂 sorry for the long disclaimer

please read info before requesting!

masterlist | info

—————————————————

chris tracks the moon better than you do sometimes. never for any reason in particular other than sheer curiosity but this time it all just worked out. yes, he’s like three albums ahead in recording with bonus 3racha songs that will never see the light of day, but he was feeling the need to start working on a new album too. the boys creativity was spiking as well and they were getting restless. in other words, it was time to get to work, but chris needed a refreshing in his work space. normally he loved his studio, it was all you could do some days to get him out of it. sucked into his kaleidoscope hole of creativity until it finally set him free once the album was done. but the vibes were stale. he felt trapped lately, like his mind was racing with ideas of lyrics and melodies but none of them were clicking.

that’s where you come in.

nothing felt better to christopher after he just helped clean the house and then you banish the negative energy and cleanse the space. he knew it was time for some of that in his studio or he was gonna go insane.

your spirituality was nothing you hid especially from him. he grew up in the church so he kept his distance but was quietly observing. he still remembers the first night he watched you work.

the living room was dimly lit, windows open with the moon cascading light into the living room on your makeshift work station on the coffee table. the air swirled with smells of incense, oils, and herbs and you sit quietly as you worked. your playlist of music softly played in the background. chris didn’t say a word but he was enthralled with everything you did, almost attempting to ask what each thing was and how it worked but you seemed to be in a zone.

“ask, christopher.” you spoke up, not bothering to glance his way.

he awkwardly shifted in his seat on the floor as he cleared his throat, “what’s that do?”

he cringed at himself a little for sounding like a child but you couldn’t help but smirk at how adorable and clueless he was.

“well, this is a pretty basic banishing spell.” you continued into detail of your work and the reasoning, which worked out well for you because then you could further set your intentions into the spell. eventually that’s just how you would do your spell work, explaining things to him in detail and why you were doing things.

also, it always blew his mind how you always seemed to know things before they happened but you were never super obvious about it. one time you had warned him about a presence at work. his questions at the time went unanswered but then he came home in shock.

“how the hell did you know about Beomseok?” he was in utter disbelief.

you simply shrugged, “you have family on the other side wanting to protect you.”

ever since he thought there might be something to what you do and after some time of thought he came to you and said that however you wanted to use him in your practice, he was willing. you started out slow and decided that apollo would be a good fit to work with for him and his music. it started with regular cleansing and a sun charm you enchanted for him, but now chris was feeling the pull for more to be done.

“i need your help.”

you glanced up at him from your spot on the couch to give him your full attention as he moved to take a seat next to you. he seemed nervous as he shifted a bit.

“so, the moon is moving into pisces tonight and the guys and i are feeling a shift in our creativity and it’s a new moon but the energy in my studio is awful. so i was wondering…” chris stopped looking for you to finish the sentence as he wasn’t quite sure what he was even asking for.

you mimicked his head motions, trying to pick up what he was putting down. “you want me to cleanse your space?”

“i think so…” he breathed out a chuckle. “something, i dunno. whatever you do in here when we clean the house.”

you let out a laugh, finally understanding what he was trying to ask. “ok, yeah, so some incense, crystals?”

“yes! i like crystals.”

fuck, he was cute.

“yeah! let me get some stuff. oh! and by the window over there, grab a water bottle.” you pointed as you walked down the hall.

“one of these?”

“yep! it’s moon water. it’ll cleanse you too.” quickly you rushed out, stopping in front of him as he drank and showed the spray bottle in your hand. “florida water. gets rid of bad vibes. if we’re gonna do this we should cleanse ourselves.”

“oh! uh-ok.” he stood up straighter and squared off his shoulders in preparation.

“close your eyes and take a deep breath in…” you paused as he complied. “and out. good! now imagine a bright, warm, golden light surrounding you.”

after a minute, he nodded, “ok.”

“keep your eyes closed, and i’ll spray this now, ok?”

he nodded.

“perfect. keep drinking your water. do you remember what incense you liked best?” you rushed off again to gather supplies.

“ummm… oh! the dragon one!”

you giggled to yourself, “dragon’s blood?”

“yeah! it sounds cool.”

god, his intuition is insane.

you finished packing up your essentials and as the sun was setting you were able to head down to his studio. immediately when you walked in, you could tell exactly what he meant by the energy being off. the room, while not having any physical changes, felt stagnant and almost moldy without having the physical smell, but nothing you couldn’t fix.

“ok, top to bottom clean. dusting, clearing out trash, everything.” you told him.

chris nodded and immediately got to work. he was thankful to start with something he understood. while jype had regular cleaners, chris usually told them not to bother cleaning in here since he has things a certain way and he always intended to clean himself… he never did. the room already started to feel better with just a deep cleaning.

“what next?” chris asked eagerly.

“cleanse with some florida water and incense.” you explained, pulling it out of your bag.

this time when you used the florida water, you explained the history of the perfume to him and explained the use of herbs and ingredients, since you usually made it yourself. next was the incense and the properties of dragon’s blood, saying that it’s good for courage in pursuing creative projects that might be out of his comfort zone and that how there’s even science to back how the essential oils have increased activity in the left hemisphere of the brain.

“next, crystals. we charge them in the moon or sunlight.” you told him, raising the first one too him. “citrine, it’s heat treated amethyst that changes the color. it banishes negative energy and keeps you focused. also brings in abundance.” you finished him with a wink. each crystal you pulled out of your bag you gave an explanation and finally set everything up. finally you pulled out a golden stick candle with some herbs. “final thing, we’re gonna ask apollo for some help.”

“oh! the music guy! that’s a good idea!” chris exclaimed as he took the seat next to you at the desk.

everything felt different from the first time he saw you practicing your craft. before he was quiet and timid, afraid to ask questions and even participate. now, he was getting fully involved by helping make sigils with his intentions, carving them into the candle then applying herbs and oils. the two of you watched the candle burn down and chris already felt the energy in the room shift dramatically with new ideas for music pouring into his head. he couldn’t wait to get started but it was still a new moon and you two had other rituals to attend to.

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via-rant · 11 months

Text

Leo watched from across the room as Jason pestered Nico into eating. Talking to him happily when he did. He wanted to snarl but didn't want to bring attention to himself right now. Not while he's like this. He wasn't angry at Nico. Or Jason. Just the circumstances. Jason was supposed to be his best friend. So was Piper. Piper just got along with everyone here. Except him.

As soon as this whole quest started he became nothing but a nuisance to them. Just like everyone else. It wasn't their fault. All those stupid memories were fake. Jason doesn't know who he is. And neither did Piper. He told him lots of things during that time. And it didn't even happen. And it never will.

He continued eating not bothering to talk to anyone or look them in the eye. He was tired. He walked out barely finishing his lasagna and back the engine room to continue repairs. That's what he's good at.

-------

"Heeeelloooo- oh. It's you." Leo said his face dropping when he saw Nico standing in front of him. Nico glared.

"Okay, what did I do to you?"

"Nothing. You just get on my nerves for some reason."

"I get on your nerves?"

"Yeah... something about being emo."

"I'm not... emo. What does that even mean?"

"Wears dark clothes, listens to depressing music, pretends to not care about anyone or anything."

"I do care!"

"Pretends. Key word there." He said with a shit eating grin and Nico stared in surprise before glaring.

"Okay, okay. Leo can we talk?" Jason asked, trying to not get them to fight.

"I would but I'm busy."

"What do you still have to do?"

"The mast is slightly unstable, one of the propellers need to be fixed - was it one? I have to check that. A few infirmary supplies, the scanners again, the navigator, I still haven't figured out why Festus' ear is leaking oil, and the glass to the stables is broken." In the distance they heard metal break. "And Percy broke some pipes again."

"Sorry, Leo!" He yelled.

"Leo, take a break."

"I don't need a break. I can handle it."

"Fine. How can we help?"

"What do you mean?"

"You expect to do all that and talk to us at some point? No. We're helping. What can we do?"

Help is help I guess. He thought and shrugged. "Sure."

------

"Aha!" Leo yelled in excitement before taking out some glass piece and replacing it with tape.

"There bud. You should stop leaking." Festus creacked and Leos smile relaxed and Nico swore his heart did a backflip.

"You're welcome." Nico watched him in fascination. It looked so real. Like nothing in that moment mattered. He was content right there.

"How are you so nice to machines but not people?" He asked and Leo looked up frowning.

"Cause people are shit. Thought you would get that."

"I used to think that. But then I met good people."

"Hm... must be nice." He replied walking to the broken pipes. They looked at each other in concern.

"Leo you have this whole ship of people who-" Jason tried.

"-'who care about you.' Yeah yeah yeah I've heard it a million times." He took out a blow torch, which confused him because he has literal fire powers, and torched the pipes.

"We care."

"Prove it."

"We're helping you with repairs."

"Yeah, to talk to me about whatever, not because you're worried. Hey, can I ask you something?" He asked looking over at them. They didn't get a chance to process the first part but Nico swallowed. "Um... yeah, go ahead."

"What do you want to talk about?" He asked and they froze.

"Why you don't... like... Nico." Jason answered in realization and Leo looked him up and down.

"Hm... interesting. Hey Nico can you glue the glass to the stable floor?" He asked throwing him the glass piece. "Jason you can continue this. I'm gonna go work on the mast." He said walking out as they stared in heartbreak. Oh...

----

@moa-broke-me so I thought of the Leo being Jealous of Nico thing more. You can add stuff if you want, I can not think of what happened next for the life of me.

#leo valdez #jason grace #nico di angelo #hoo #heros of olympus #jasico

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ailelie · 8 months

Text

Food in Nora's Return (in mostly reverse order of appearance)

On Nora’s, she found a mound of lavender-scented rice, shredded lamb, fire-burnt leeks, and coins of pumpkin with two sauces on the side: mint and lavender-sage. Gabriel’s plate did not resemble hers at all, save for the fragrant rice. His meat was flakes of white fish mixed with lemons and zested with orange.

“What are we going to do when we see them?” Gabriel asked. He tore the spongy teff bread into tiny pieces, dropping them into the thick stew of tomatoes, peppers, and shredded duck. Nora spooned some of the stew onto her bread. “Act as we always do.

For the first time Nora could remember, when she walked downstairs for breakfast, Ambrose was waiting for her. He held one large tray carrying two small bowls of a rice porridge with many small bowls holding different fruits and spices and two cups of rice milk.

“Sorry for stopping by so late,” Nora said. She held a tray carrying a small pistachio sesame cream cake and a pot of that smoky Crellish tea Ambrose had liked before.

When Nora woke again, she found a bowl of a creamy rice porridge sitting on a tray on her desk. The porridge was still hot.

The bowl placed before Nora was tall and wide, half-filled with steaming soup. The waiter set a mountain of fragrant white rice next to her bowl. The oil in the soup glistened in the sunlight. Soft pink flakes formed a circle in the center of her soup. Surrounding it were a bundle of moon-white mushrooms, a twist of dark green leaves, several translucent slices of a root, and a golden, gelled yolk nestled in two halves of a small, cream egg white. Nora slid her spoon just below the surface, scooping up both soup and a few dots of oil. She sipped it from her spoon. Heat from the spices and peppers warmed her mouth. The fish flavor was subtle and almost sweet. Nora scooped in a spoonful of rice and took a larger bite.

Nora sat on the other side of the tray. He had brought hummus, puffed rice crackers, grilled bananas, and a variety of berries. “This looks delicious.” Ambrose spread some hummus on a cracker and held it out for Nora to take. “I had them add extra lemon to the hummus for your preferred abomination.”

Nora sent him to find them a place to sit while she purchased for them: two bowls of small bowl of cool, sticky rice mixed with black beans, coconut, and mango.

Ambrose met them near the door of the dining room with a large platter of steamed buns. “My treat, today,” he said. Nora had not arranged anything special for lunch, content with whatever the Academy had ordered in, and so had no issue shifting to steamed buns instead. Gabriel likewise shrugged.

“Why luna buns?” Ivy gave her a confused look, but then turned back to her pot. She pulled another spoon from the spoon cup and used it to fish out the one she’d dropped. “They’re the first thing I learned to make. I was too sick to attend the festival on Astelanon so my papa learned how to make luna buns so I wouldn’t miss out.” Her voice, sweet as ever, rang with a note of sadness. “We didn’t have a grill, so he fried the rice instead of grilling it. That’s still my favorite way to make them.” She washed off the spoon that had fallen into her pot and dropped it back into the correct cup.

“No letters yet?” Nora asked, remembering Ivy’s tears from nearly two months ago.

Ivy shook her head. “Do you prefer your ginger syrup hot or sweet?”

“Hot.”

Ivy shot her a quick smile over her shoulder. “Me too. Papa prefers sweet though. He always says his life has had enough spice and that he deserves some sweetness now.” Ivy removed the pot from the heat and gave it one more stir. She then piled her bowl of cooked rice and a bowl of water onto the empty tray and moved them to the table beside Nora. Ivy wet her hands and scooped up some rice to roll into a ball. “He likes fillings in his buns, too. I prefer plain, though.” She glanced up at Nora. “More ginger flavor that way.”

Nora nodded, somewhat disbelieving she and Ivy had this one thing in common. “I prefer plain, too.” Gabriel liked his stuffed with a lemon curd. Ambrose preferred chopped nuts and cardamom.

“Get us a table,” she ordered the others. “I’ll get us some tirazi.”

Gabriel and Ambrose looked puzzled, but Ivy’s eyes widened. “What flavors do they have?” she asked.

“Sweet cream and a sour cherry jam,” Nora said. “You’ve had them?”

“One of my babysitters growing up was from Tegata. She’d make them for special days. Ask if they have lemon cream?”

“I will,” Nora promised. Then, unsure why, she did. The shopkeep did have lemon cream. She also had passion fruit curd.

(Note: Tirazi are fried sweet dough with fillings.)

Nora did not know how to respond to that. She took a bite of her rice. It was unctuous with rich duck meat, soft egg yolks, and a thread of sweet mustard for balance. She savored the bite to give herself a moment to think.

The family table was not covered with a variety of dishes. Instead, Nora only counted five serving plates or bowls, each filled with one of the king’s favorite foods. Outside, Nora knew the others dined a starry sky’s worth of small dishes, each exquisitely flavored. Family did not need such a show of wealth.

[...]

Ambrose returned carrying a bottle of esal, a fruit wine made from plums and pineapples.

The next day, Nora sent out for a picnic lunch with a variety of pickled fruits and vegetables with soft patties of pounded rice and a variety of sauces.

But then Gabriel asked, “What did Fletcher want?” His focus was on his meal, a thick stew of vegetables and spices and a side of spongy flatbread. Ambrose, however, was focused fully on her.

[...]

“I won’t ask for details then,” Ivy said, scooping up some of her stew with her bread. Not a single drop fell onto her dress. Nora glanced down at her own bowl and the spoon she was using to eat. Before she would have pointed out how uncouth Ivy was for using her bread like a spoon and part of her ached to say the same now, but she knew they weren’t true. Plenty of people didn’t need utensils to eat like Nora did. They were graceful enough to manage without.

“Nowhere,” Nora said quickly. She stuffed a bite of sticky rice and fruit into her mouth. The mint chopped through the dish was cooling.

The girl was back and carrying a large plate and forks. “Apologies, your highness. I didn’t mean to hear or interrupt, but my brother really will slaughter me if I don’t give you some pie. You’ll like it. His pies are the best. He makes his own flour blend.” She slipped the pie onto the table and handed each of them a fork.

[...]

Nora took a small bite. The pie had a floral lemon filling that melted over her tongue. The crust was flaky instead of the dense crusts she was accustomed to. She savored the bite, her eyes fluttering closed. When she opened them again, Ambrose was looking away, blushing again, and Gabriel was shaking his head.

Ambrose carried the small tray of sweets over to the table Ivy had chosen inside. He had bought Nora two cinnamon cookies as promised and a golden brown bar for himself. The bar was a smoky caramel brownie the bakery had designed just for Ambrose during one of their many visits prior to joining the Academy. Many sweet shops across the city had added some menu items over the years to appeal to his need for smoky, even burnt flavors.

Ivy had also chosen a cookie, though hers was topped with a soft pink icing. She ate oddly, Nora noticed. After taking one small bite, Ivy scraped off a bit of icing and savored it slowly. Then, she scraped off another piece. Her gaze was studious, but not focused on anything in particular. Then she ate some of the plain cookie without frosting. Again, she chewed very slowly. Finally, she took another normal bite.

Nora glanced at Ambrose to see if he was noticing her behavior as well. He was. “Is everything all right?” Ambrose asked.

Ivy’s cheeks darkened. “Sorry. I had expected a vanilla frosting that would soften the sharpness of the lemon in the cookie, but it isn’t just vanilla. The frosting has a very slight fruit element as well, though not as fresh as the lemon. A tea perhaps? The cookie is also incredibly soft, almost as if—excuse me.” She stood and strode over to the counter. She spoke to the clerk for a moment and then the clerk fled to the kitchen. A moment later, a tall man with arms like barrels exited the kitchen.

Ivy greeted him with a smile. “My apologies for disturbing you,” she said. “I was enjoying your lemon cookie and I had a few questions.” She confirmed the use of tea in the frosting and then turned the discussion to the flours used in the cookie. The baker denied using any rice flours in the cookies which prompted Ivy to ask, “Are you friends with a winemaker then, perhaps?”

“Clever,” Nora said. “My suggestion is The Broken Wheel. They’re another bakery and make rather delicious spiced meat steamed buns.”

“Teo finally convinced his father to add some food to the menu. He said if we give him a day’s warning, he’ll include those big, sticky cinnamon buns on the day’s menu and save us a few.”

“How long have you known about this?” Nora asked, imagining the soft, warm, spicy buns. Teo was two years older than they were and worked in his father’s bar at the harbor. Thanks to his good relationships with merchants, he had access to ingredients others couldn’t afford—like the cinnamon for Nora’s buns.

Nora took a bite of her millet cake. Warmth filled her mouth, which matched well with the spicy ginger tisane.

Nora noticed he barely touched his food—a cool mint and carrot soup and steamed meat buns. It was simple fare, but appropriate for the holiday.

Petra filled a small tray with a variety of steamed buns, indicating which were leftover from lunch and which were filled with fruit jelly. She also boiled some water and fixed up a pot of tea. “Tell the prince this is from my private stash,” Petra advised her. “If he wants more, his father needs to finalize his trade deal with Creldyn.”

On the bench, Viola divided the half-dozen tirazi between them. Nora chose one with a dot of speckled cream poking out of one end. It was still warm and the fragrant vanilla cream filled her mouth with delight. She hummed in pleasure.

[...]

She selected another tirazi, this one smeared with a bit of red jam. The nutty dough complemented the sour cherries well.

Ambrose sprinkled more smoky pepper over his fish as he thought. “I’m sure they’d find need of me if I showed up, but no one’s sent word I need to be home.”

“Good. What do you think, Gabriel?”

Gabriel swallowed a bite of lemon rice. “I’d planned on visiting the harbor, but something new sounds fun.”

“Pickles. Fried pickles on a stick.”

“Yes, Petra,” Nora said in a tone she knew would make Petra roll her eyes. Nora followed the corridor into the kitchens and passed along Petra’s instructions. Within moments one of the bakers had her nestled next to a big belly oven with a roll of spongy flatbread spread with honey in one hand and a mug of sweetened tisane in the other. The aroma of rich spices and fish filled the kitchen. The various kitchen servants chattered and shared gossip. Nora withstood the warmth of the oven side seat for two bites of her bread before slowly sneaking away from the kitchen to an outer, cooler room.

Around dinner time, the kitchen staff brought her a small tray of rice and the same rich fish curry she’d smelled earlier.

#nora's return #food #food in writing #does this feel like a coherent cuisine?

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dangerprone2000 · 9 months

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Guys I’ve taken some time to write my own Fraphne fanfic, this is the first time I write something but I’m very excited about it. I only have a couple chapters but it was written with lots of love and hours of dedication. Would y’all be interested on reading it? 💗🦋

Also, English is not my first language so I’m eager to hear your suggestions!

Here’s a fraction of the prologue:

July the 28th

The day of murder.

She sits there, sunbathing in the middle of the forest. The sun rays pour in her face between the branches of the dark trees, making her yellowish brown eyes glisten under the light… Her skin was warm and toasted like every other summer night she’d spent on the Italian Coast with her boyfriend and his sister, Lucinde.

They rubbed coconut oil on each other’s backs while they tanned the bluest sea they had ever seen. Those sunsets weren’t that different from this one… except for the blood in her eyes, and throat, blocking her vision, her breath and dripping onto her nostrils.

The crows were cackling, laughing at her.

And she was dying, Tears prickled her eyes.

Her body so aggravated that she started feeling numb.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the tingling sensation on her fingertips, bugs and worms crawling, climbing onto her, biting her flesh, eating her alive.

At least she used to be happy…

***

They continued into the woods, following the scavengers onto a path of trampled leaves and tire tracks getting covered by the movement of dirt and wind.

“Do you remember Becks Family?” Fred inquired.

There was a sticky smell over the bloody moss, puddles shinning under the light as they got brown.

“You mean the people from the creepy house on the city’s border?” “What happened to them?”

“The Daughter went missing a couple weeks ago”

And there was again, a hunch twisting her gut, sweat on her neck.

She was going to chicken out.

“Didn’t knew they had a daughter?”

“Well, they are hermits, very hostile people, but I’ve seen her a few times around the market” “My father thinks she probably flew away from her parents”

“I don’t think they’ll never stop looking for her” “My parents wouldn’t”

Fred shrugged, kicking a pile of dry leaves. “Do you know the history of this woods?”

She googled the woods on their way there, seeking for some of it’s the history surrounding the old town, but had no name, and no apparent population.

It remained as a piece of no man’s land, like a ghost town located on the edge between two cities, completely forgotten by time.

“This place went desolate after a witch burning from a thousand years ago. It is said that they were real witches, spreading a curse over it.”

“So You think this forest is haunted?”

He shook his head again. “I didn’t said that”

“But?”

“Well, there used to be a lot of disappearances around here” Fred explained “And, Amanda Beck was last seen wearing a blue dodgers sweater and a pair of white boots around this place”

“And how exactly do you know that? Daphne said, forcing herself to keep on walking. “ I thought you said you stopped listening to radio bands on police scanners”

He chuckled“Most things we do are illegal anyways”

They were used to getting into all kinds of trouble, but little they knew this was way beyond what they could get out of.

How were they going to explain how they found Amanda Beck’s alleged dead body?

They wouldn’t, that’s why they had to disappear from the scene without leaving traces.

#daphne blake #fraphne #fred jones #fred x daphne #mystery inc #mystery incorporated #scooby doo #scooby movies #scooby gang #fred scooby doo #scooby fandom #scooby doo fanfiction #scooby doo fandom #fandom #daphne x fred #daphne scooby doo #danger prone daphne #danger prone

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anime-kia · 1 year

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You Can Do What?! (Part 1)

This is my gift to all of you. I'm gonna use one of my wash "day" routines though because some people have complicated routines and mines is very simple (and doesn't take a whole day) lol. Enjoy!

Warnings: Smut

Relationship: Helpful Erik x Reader

Ah wash day... Great fun, right?

The night before, you prepped your hair with a homemade deep conditioner: Two tablespoons of coconut oil, one tablespoon of honey, one tablespoon of olive oil and half of a banana. For your scalp, you applied raw aloe vera and let it all sit underneath a plastic bag (which Erik laughed at you for) and your black satin bonnet.

He always found a way to poke fun at your natural routine.

Once you were too lazy to blend the banana out properly and you ended up with little banana seeds in your hair for almost two weeks. Then there was the time when you were upset and your rough hand caused aloe vera to break off into your hair. That took another two weeks to come out. He would either pluck them out and hold it up to your face while making a witty comment or he'd let you go out with the pieces in your hair if you were being stubborn. Erik being taller than you was both a blessing and a curse.

You woke up a little earlier to get wash day out of the way. You were hoping Erik would still be sleeping, but as you began shifting to get out of the bed, his strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back in.

"Where you going?" He asked into your neck. His voice wasn't as raspy as usual and you could smell fresh mint as he spoke, so you'd assumed he'd been awake for some time.

"Wash day." You responded, pointing to your bonnet which was halfway off of your head and the plastic bag underneath had untied itself at some point during the night.

"Lemme help you." He said, placing a kiss against your neck.

"What? No." You chuckled, as he turned you around to be face to face with him.

His eyes were serious, "Why not?"

"Cuz no one touches my hair but me."

"But what about that time you was taking your braids out. I helped."

Your eyebrows raised, "Hell naw, you almost cut my hair!"

"But I didn't." He retaliates. "Come on bae, this is different."

You pull out of his grasp and get out of the bed, "Nah, you might use Nair in my hair instead of shampoo."

He gets up and follows you to the bathroom, "I ain't dumb, baby girl. Besides, how you think I be maintaining my dreads?"

Your arms fold against your chest as you scoff, "You go to that expensive Nigerian hairdresser in the city."

"Aight, but- I'm at your place almost everyday and you always doing something to your hair. You think I don't watch you sometimes?"

You open the vanity and take out a denman brush and four hair ties. "Well, if you watch me so much then tell me what I'd be doing next?"

"You gonna wash that shit out ya hair." He shrugged.

He wasn't completely wrong, but not completely right either. "Not co-"

He holds his hand up, "But, first you gonna put on your playlist- Lofi hip hop." His eyebrow raises, "Right?"

"...Right." You stood corrected.

Erik was always the type who took studying very seriously. Sure he'd goof around, but when it was time to have the knowledge and information, he could provide it, regardless if it was studying for tests or studying a person's behaviour. You were no exception, Erik knew you better than you knew yourself (is what you believed at times).

"So let me help you then. I hear you letting out these hefty ass sighs when you think I'm not around."

You roll your eyes, "That's cuz my arms get tired. Sighing helps."

"How bout you relax, let me help you so you don't gotta be sounding like Chewbacca."

"Boy, fuck you." You shake your head, hiding a laugh.

"Shiiiid, we can do that later." He smirks with lustful eyes.

You slap his chest as you pass by him, turning on the shower. "You know what?" You exit the bathroom leaving him with a big smile on his face.

"What you doing now?" He asks, still chuckling.

When you come back, you're dressed in a pair of old shorts and sports bra. "So your horny ass doesn't get any ideas."

"Hold up, you was about to get naked?"

"Yes, but I forgot your mind thinks about pussy ninety-nine point nine percent of the time." Before he could protest you stop him, "I'd rather not have nut in my hair." Your comment makes him burst into another fit of laughter.

"Well I ain't showering in my drawls." He says, stripping out of his clothes, his morning wood present.

You stare at him with disgust and point at the tent in his boxers, "This is what I'm talkin' about!"

"I swear I won't try nothing."

You raise your eyebrow.

"I swear on T'Challa's life."

You frowned at him, "You almost killed him, Erik."

"But I didn't." He quips with a smirk.

"You're stupid." You shake your head and step into the shower, adjusting the temperature because it had gotten cold. He follows you in (naked) and let's you throw the plastic bag and bonnet out of the shower. His hands find their way around your hips, "If you try anything, I'll cut your dreads off in your sleep."

He lets go of you, "Damn girl, was it really that serious?"

"It's always that serious." You hand him your favourite shampoo and conditioner, "After you wash my deep conditioner out, use this."

"I know what I'm doing, (y/n)." He takes the top section of your hair, gently unraveling it from it's twist.

"Uh-huh. We'll see about that."

He delicately rinses the section out, making sure to remove any banana seeds or aloe vera pieces (making a mental note to make fun of that later). He opens the bottle of shampoo, squeezing more than a dime size amount into his palm (because we all know that "dime-size" shit does not work) and works it into your hair starting from the ends, working his way up to your roots.

"Make sure you don't put it on my scalp though, becau-" You try to warn him, but he stops you.

"Baby."

"What?"

"I know what I'm doing, I promise."

You sigh, "Alright. But if you try anything I swear to God-"

"Relax." He pats your bum, "I got this. Trust me."

After he completes the section, he washes it out, getting all the suds out and grabs the conditioner. The water begins to get cold, so you adjust it again. He tells you to close your eyes, but you already did, even before the solution started to cascade down your forehead. He works the conditioner into your hair just like he did with the shampoo and twists it, attempting to make a bantu knot to keep it out the way. Of course it didn't stay so you hand him one of the hair ties and he ties it around your hair.

So far, you're quite impressed. You haven't said much, only when you thought he was about to do something incorrect, but you did trust Erik. The only reason you were so antsy with him being in your hair is due to childhood trauma of jealous hair dressers or you just being a young dumb kid who played with scissors. Let's not even talk about your straight hair phase during the ninth grade. You worked too hard for the condition of your hair to let anyone mess that up now.

When he finished the last section, he suggested a quickie, but you were adamant about not getting semen in your hair. He promised that he would avoid your it, but you were still skeptical. His hands have been roaming all over your body ever since, getting you hot.

"Come on baby girl, we gon' be standing here doing nothing."

You were glaring at him, "I already told yo-"

"Just the tip."

"As if you know what that means." You roll your eyes.

He knows you're right, just the tip does not exist in his book. "Then just a quickie. Nothing more, nothing less." He caresses your hips.

"Fine, but that's it cuz you still gotta comb my hair out." You pull off your shorts.

"I gotcha, don't worry." He turns you around and lifts you up. Your legs wrap around his waist as he slides his fingers down in between your folds. His deft fingers work into your core, pumping in and out at a slow pace.

"A quickie, Erik." You remind him with panting breaths.

"Yeah, yeah." He slides his fingers out and lifts them in front of your mouth. "Taste."

And so you do. He watches you suck his digits, but you recoiled at the chemical taste of your shampoo and conditioner. "Eugh! Erik, you still got some on your fingers!"

"Oh shit, my bad." He runs his fingers under the falling water. "Try again?"

"No, just stick it in." You demand.

He presses your back against the cold tile, causing your body to shudder as he guides himself into your core. You both let out a moan and you close your eyes as he rocks his hips into yours. Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts into you, getting deeper each time.

"Ohhh, Erik." You sigh.

Your lips meet his in a passionate kiss, as he pumps into you. You were sure this looked very steamy and romantic, sexy enough for TV or a movie even.

"You like that, huh?"

"Mhmmm, ohhh."

It was all great until the water suddenly went extremely cold, you yelp loudly and he lets out an animalistic sound due to the water directly hitting him. He almost loses his footing, and you have another mini heart attack, prepared for your life to end.

"Oh my God!" You cling onto his body extremely tight, feeling your heart beating in your throat.

"It's aight, I gotchu." He pants and adjusts the water back to a warm setting. "Fuck, you need to switch apartments, this shit is whack. Can't even fuck in the shower in peace."

You try to get off, but he holds you in place. His dick throbs inside of you, and it feels harder than before.

"Where you going?"

"Nah, I almost met the Lord. Put me down, Erik."

"Hold up, we ain't even finished."

"N- Ohhhhh!" You bury your face into his neck as he thrusts into your at an incredibly ridiculous speed, "Fuuuhhh, Erik!" Your nails dug into his biceps.

"J-just a b-bit more." He grunts, hitting you deep in your most sensitive spot.

You already hit your climax, coating him with your warm fluids. He then slows down and with three deep thrusts he pulls out and sets you down, releasing onto your stomach.

"Whew, shit." He sighs, content plastered on his face. "Now let's hurry up, cuz if ya shower do that again, your landlord is getting shot." You almost forgot that there was still conditioner in your hair. You were ready to get out, legs shaky with that post-sex feeling.

"Don't shoot my landlord, Erik." You laughed at him. He smiled, but he was very serious.

He started to comb out the knots from your hair, ends to roots, like he wasn't just all up in your guts. Erik made sex seem like nothing, but then there was you, barely able to last two rounds with him. Tapping out was never an option, you'd be too weak to do that by time he was done with you.

He had fantastic dick. Period.

"So you still gon' cut my dreads?" He asks, washing out the conditioner from your hair.

"Mmh... I dunno."

He twists the section back up, and pulls the hair tie off of his wrist, wrapping it around your hair. "But you know if you cut my hair I might not be able to dick you down like that. You know the story of Samson?"

You scoffed, "Erik, do not use an Israelite warrior to justify your dick."

"But it's true." He begins on the next section.

"Whatever, E." You laugh.

By time he's done all four sections, his hands are running through your scalp giving you the best massage you could ever ask for. Moans escaped your lips unintentionally.

"Aye, you gotta stop making them sounds, shorty."

"What are you talking about?"

"You moaning and shit, making my dick hard again."

"Boy, if you don't get ya horny ass on." You slap his chest, turn off the pipe right before the water got cold again and step out of the shower.

He follows you out, "So no round two?"

You roll your eyes at him through the mirror as you fix a towel turban around your wet hair, "I gotta do my hair, you're delaying me!"

"Aight shit, my bad." He holds his hands up in defence.

"Horny ass..." You mumble under your breath, grabbing your towel.

So that was part one! I hope you enjoyed!

I know everyone's hair care routine is different and mine is usually very simple. I switch it up a bit here and there. Oh yeah, that deep conditioner ingredient mix I listed at the very beginning is what I actually use (when I'm in the mood to make it) and it works very well. I'm one of the lucky gals whose hair/scalp doesn't mind coconut oil, and my hair loves bananas too.

Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading!

(Start/Finish: December 24, 2018)

#killmonger fic #killmonger x reader #black reader

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respectfulkitfistosimp · 1 year

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The Abode

A Kayn lol x reader fanfic part 4 master list

You disliked the pop artists that your coworkers would listen to while you worked but now you found yourself humming the lyrics and beats of their songs, you would give everything in your power to listen to them again but you wouldn't work 48 hours straight ever again. You had started to regret your desicions to come here, all of the benefits that were promised and delivered to you suddenly lost their meaning as you started to get homesick, you missed your parents, your friends and even the walk to university or the hospital, you also missed only knowing Kayn as a character in a game that the guy you hated the most in your world played with rather that an actual person who for some reason loved to interact with you, you had no idea why you found him so annoying, the poor acolyte hadn't done anything, maybe it was the fact that the guy you hated used to play him in the game? Yeah, maybe that was it, or maybe you just simply didn't click together, that was also possible. It was almost as if your complains summoned him as he just walked into the infirmary without even knocking, you scolded him each time he did that citing possible cases as to why he should knock, "what if I'm changing?" Or "what if I'm treating a patient and they need privacy?" Were things that you would say, he shrugged with a smug look on his face each time and that only annoyed you more.

—I got hurt again, doc—he said, he had started taking a liking to calling you "doc", saying that doctor is too strict.

—Let me take a look—you replied and thought "what a surprise", putting a lot of effort in not rolling your eyes as you inspected the wound that was finally something worth treating—are you normally this careless?—you asked him as you started to treat the injury.

He shrugged with a smug look yet again before replying—only since you started working here.

You had no idea what he meant by that, was he flirting with your or did something happen to his head? It was most likely his head, it would explain all of his weird behavior but unfortunately for him you never expected to specialize on neurology, but you could do the next best thing and look for any signs of a possible concussion and somehow you found nothing.

—I didn't hit my head if that's what you were wondering—he said, finding the situation funny.

—That you remember—you said, feeling as if you've had this conversation before

He said something after but you didn't answer him though, honestly you didn't even hear what he said as you examined the horrible state his hair and scalp was in, it was a crime to have such beautiful and long hair and not take care of it, so for first and last time in your life you were going to go the extra mile for him.

—Let me make you some rosemary oil for your hair and some nettle oil too—you said, finally separating your hands from his head—do you mind getting some rosemary and nettle for me? I've got no clue where I can find them.

Kayn looked at you full of confusion for a couple of seconds before his entire face started to glow from.... happiness? excitement? It seemed like those were the emotions he was experiencing but you had no idea why, how come he was so happy to do such a simple task for you? Maybe he was actually happy that his hair would get better? Yes, that was why, you would react the same way if you were in his shoes. Just to make sure he wouldn't forget what you needed you wrote it down on a piece of paper, along with a note for him to give to Zed in case he asked Kayn why he wasn't training.

—Thanks, I appreciate that—you handed him both pieces of paper, he folded them and placed them in his pocket after reading each one—take a break today just in case, come to me if the wound gets worse, alright?—he nodded alond with a "yes, doc", at least he knew how to listen.

He didn't leave though, for some reason he just stared at you like he was reading you, trying to take a peek into your very soul and so much staring started to make you nervous, you mouth went dry and you started to fidget with the edges of your coat, tilting your head in confusion.

—You're different today—he said, tilting his head too but not trying to annoy you.

You tried to come up with an excuse but no thought crossed your mind, it was weird how he could just render you speechless when you would normally be able to bullshit your way out of any situation. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, it did barely nothing but at least you stopped fidgeting.

—Tell me your story—he asked, kindness filling his voice.

Luckily you were prepared for that question, otherwise you wouldn't even know what to say as you obviously couldn't simply say that you came from another universe, in fact you didn't even know why you were here now.

—I used to live in what's now Noxian territory—you started, sitting on your desk—I had a clinic there where I treated people—you kept your story short and simple, that way it'll be easier to remember in case you had to lie again.

—What about your family?—he rested his back on the chair, genuinely interested.

—My parents were good, hardworking people, I was their only child so they wanted what was best for me—you faked a homesick look—I wanted to be a doctor since I was a kid and they busted their asses working for me to achieve that—you chuckled, that part was true—then came the noxians and, well, you can guess what happened next.

Kayn stared at you, understanding filling his eyes as you kept a soft but sad smile, even if the reason behind such a smile was different it didn't matter, whether it was from homesickness because everyone you knew was dead or in another universe it was still a sad, cold feeling. He looked down at his hands, thinking of what to say to comfort you but ultimately coming up with nothing, he had never been good at this kind of stuff.

—It's alright though, I've had a long time to digest it—you reassured him, that allowing him to lift his head to look at you.

—I'm sorry—was all he could say, you started to feel a little guilty for lying to him.

You sighed before opening a jar, taking out a piece of candy from it and offering it to him.

—Don't be, it wasn't your fault.

Kayn took the candy from your hand, inspecting it for a second before unwrapping it and propping it into his mouth, the sweetness from it making him smile, you thought he looked better that way. All of the actual homesickness you were feeling that day, all of the regret and bitterness getting blown away just because of that simple smile, you gritted your teeth knowing what that meant and being afraid of it, it was easy for you to fall for a person who showed the slightest bit of interest in you and that made you scared, you didn't want to get your hopes up only to be let down like before, much less for someone who you were in charged of keeping healthy and was fighting in a literal war, not knowing whether he'll make it back alive.

—Go to your room and get some rest—you told him, trying to make it sound like you were caring for him when in reality you were just caring for yourself.

He nodded with a smile, ignorant of the turmoil it caused on you and left after thanking you. This time you didn't wait to let go of a shaky breath, your hand flying to your mouth as you tried to calm yourself down, thinking that you were being extremely dramatic you moved to the open window and the smell of incoming rain calming down your nerves and numbing the turmoil in your head as you consciously focused on it, then you found a resolution to your problem, you would burry your feelings deep inside your heart and just become so insufferable that he wouldn't even want to live in the same place as you, but since he's been in the order for much longer than you Zed would fire you and you would explore the world or something, your plan was so good that you were ready to start it that very night.

Once darkness fell and a storm started you stood at the top of the stairs, your hair a mess as it covered your face, the hollering winds and the rain adding to the atmosphere, this right here was more than just a plan, this was retribution, this was vengeance. Kayn called your name and for a split second you heard him stutter, you had a very interesting although mostly useless ability to make a clicking noice with your throat and as you dragged your feet to the stairs while doing that noise you stared at him thru the hair covering your face, once it was time to actually go down the stairs you took inspiration from a very well known movie and turned and twisted your body in a way that you were going down the stairs in all fours with your back arched, the first couple of steps you went down carefully, not wanting to break your neck and become an actual ghost. By the time you reached about half way down the stairs you just suddenly picked up your speed and finally you heard him scream like he was getting his guts pulled out and dart away from you so fast that after a blink you couldn't see him anymore, when you actually reached the end of the stairs you stood up as upright as possible, feeling so many muscles in your back ache after the stunt you pulled but the sheer joy that it brought you made you forget about the pain. At first you tried your hardest not to laugh, even going as far as to cover your mouth with your hand, but you just couldn't keep it in and finally you laughed your ass off so hard your knees went weak, making you fall to the ground.

#kayn league of legends #kayn lol #kayn x reader #kayn #kayn x you #kayn x y/n

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arjaandsimoni · 1 year

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Wrath, Pride, and Prejudice

Content Warning: This chapter contains a scene involving hate crimes and murder. Reader discretion is advised.

A long, long time ago…

Flames everywhere, the air stank of oil and smoke, steel and the coppery tang of blood. They'd gotten most of the village, the survivors making a stand near the shrine.

Forget this! Run! You're all I have left! Why are you still fighting them?!

One of the survivors looked towards the voice, his left eye ruined from a gash across it that came from some large edged weapon, blood oozing down his cheek.

Where would we go if we did? They don't just want us, they want all of it.

Somewhere! Anywhere! The land is big, there must be somewhere they can't find us!

No. We won't run. They took my children, half the women are gone. We stand, we defy them to the last.

They’ll kill you! They’ll cut you all down! RUN!

My woman is still among them, she is with child. If I have even a chance, I will save her from them.

There are other women! Run away! Survive! Raise new children and in time we can come back!

The scarred man glared at the source of the voice through his one good eye.

Coward...

A sound, the man's head snapped around, and in the doorway there's a bright light, brighter than the sun, burning everything! The people in front are already turning pearly white, their faces frozen...

The speaker snarled, then roared in defiance, diving at the source of the light. There was a loud musical-sounding scream, and his hands were covered in glowing white blood. Then more of the winged men descended and he fled into the forest, his hooves clattering against the ground.

New Orleans, Present Day

Nelen looked up at the building, his hands in his pockets as three kids stood near him. Dawn was in her usual street outfit of a sock hat, baggy jeans, and aviator sunglasses. The sock hat was bright pink and clashing horribly with… well everything really, and her teeshirt bore the legend ‘I’m not crazy, my reality is just different from your’s.’

To his other side stood Arja and Simoni, the former in a red teeshirt with the name of an Indian cricket team and baggy jean shorts. The latter wearing a green sleeveless top and a knee-length blue denim skirt.

They were speaking to the headmaster, who seemed rather perturbed that Nelen had kids tagging along with him. “Buddy, this could be dangerous. Are you sure you want to expose children to it?” he asked. He was a portly man in his mid-fifties, wearing a three-piece suit with a star-spangled tie. He had hair that was blond once upon a time but rapidly going towards grey and a thick bushy mustache.

Nelen shrugged, “Kids got better eyes than I do, sometimes they catch stuff I won’t even notice. Don’t worry, they can take care of themselves… besides, if you were so damn worried about the kids, why is the school still open?” he asked with a grin.

The older man scowled, but didn’t reply, “Just… sort it out. We reported it as a gas leak, but that room doesn’t even have any damn gas lines to blow up. I don’t want their parents finding out that some crazy shit is happening here!” he snarled.

Nelen sighed and nodded, “Mmhm… still should clear out the building first.” he replied.

“That would all but tell them something horrible is going on! We can’t do that!” he shouted in response.

Nelen smirked, “Hey, ever hear of the Heatherford Girl’s Academy in Boston?” he asked.

“Yeah, mighta heard the name once or twice. Why?” he asked.

“Headmistress there didn’t wanna shut down the school while we did an investigation either.” replied Nelen.

“… and?” he said after a moment.

Dawn grinned, “Well, she wound up having a messy surprise.” cackled the Cheshire.

Nelen shrugged, “Look, its your school and its your call. Just don’t come crying to me if it gets loud. C’mon girls.” he nodded, heading into the building after putting on a lanyard with a card reading ‘Guest Pass’ on it along with the school’s coat of arms as the other three did likewise.

The building was old, but definitely pretty upper class… the walls were decorated with old paintings and there was an air of big money around. Nelen frowned at it, Arja moreso. At least Rajesh tried to use his to help Jaipur, this was the feel of money that just sat and rotted…

The headmaster led them through the building. “This way, it happened in one of the classrooms.” he nodded, guiding them past a roped off area and down a hall, and Dawn let out a low growl as the smell of smoke and burnt flesh reached her nose again.

“Here. This is why I contacted you. If it was one of the science labs or something we might suspect an equipment failure, but this was a history classroom. There’s nothing flammable or combustible stored here at all… yet…” he pushed open the door and Simoni gasped.

The entire room was in ruins. Half the desks were melted, the others were in pieces, and one of the walls was almost completely missing now, the bricks on the outside charred and several more scattered across the lawn.

“Yes, that was my reaction as well. I can’t even begin to imagine how much money this will cost to repair... thank GOD it was late last night when the school was empty!” he shook his head. “Just… figure out what caused this and make it go away, please!” he begged.

Nelen frowned, rubbing his temples a bit, “Mnnn… something about this room is… off…” he muttered, looking around it. “I… yeah, there’s something else here… but…” he stepped in among the ashes, “Its… confused, hiding I think…” he said, frowning.

Nelen hesitated, then stepped back out. “Kids, fan out and inspect the rest of the building, find what you can. This thing may have manifested here, but it doesn’t mean its not still in the building. Check air ducts, bathrooms, anywhere stuff can hide. We could be dealing with a lot of shit yet.”

They nodded, and Arja and Simoni set off together while Dawn made her way around through the rest. It was hard to tell who got the oddest looks though. Dawn’s appearance was like a mad hobo girl, and not entirely inaccurate either given her former lifestyle, but the school was almost exclusively rich white southern kids, and two Indian girls like Arja and Simoni stood out like sore thumbs.

Arja sighed, seeming used to it, but Simoni frowned as she heard mutterings from the other students.

“Just roll with it…” she whispered in Hindi, “Remember, they’re only our problem right now. Once we leave then we never have to see them again.” she replied.

Simoni winced as she heard someone mutter ‘who let those two in? They allow their kind here,’ “Mnn… yeah, yeah… just some mundies, not worth it… we can’t change them anyways…” she grumbled back, making sure to match Arja’s talking in spite of the ear clip’s omnilinguisitc blessing.

As they walked along however it soon became clear that nothing was immediately out of the ordinary. The school was apparently just that. A school for extremely wealthy snobs to send their extremely wealthy snoblings to. “I don’t get it Arja, why would that person the Baron is so pissed at come here?” she asked.

Arja shrugged, “Dunno, maybe this place wasn’t always a school?” she replied.

“Maybe, but the sign out front said that it was built a long time ago…” she said as one of the students walked behind her and opened their locker.

Behind them the student froze, inside the locker was a young girl, her image flickering like a broken TV set, sobbing silently.

“Maybe… Baron Samedi was wrong?” asked Simoni.

The flickering girl looked up at the boy with huge gaping hollows for eyes, and then the world exploded.

Downstairs in the burnt classroom Nelen looked up at the explosion, then suddenly gasped and fell to one knee, clutching at his arm as it spasmed in pain!

Simoni felt Arja grabbing her, throwing her to the ground with her on top as the entire building shook.

The world turned white, her ears ringing, and when her hearing slowly returned, there were screams all around. She looked up at Arja, then looked past her, “Arja! Look!” she gasped, pointing.

The kid who’d opened the locker was on the floor, very badly hurt but still alive, but on the far wall across from the lockers was a number, large symbols burned into the wall directly.

120322

Arja looked, tilting her head in confusion, “What is that? Some sort of locker combination or something?” she asked.

As the kids stood up Dawn appeared suddenly, ignored in the chaos, “Arja! Simoni! We gotta get back to that classroom now! Nelen just texted me, something changed!” she hissed.

The girls looked around, then nodded to her as Dawn made sure nobody was watching, then the three of them vanished suddenly. It wasn’t hard, all eyes were on the carnage that had just been unleashed.

They reappeared in the classroom, the trio walking in to find Nelen massaging his arm and grimacing, then looking at the walls.

Words were burnt into them as well, and while they didn’t tell the whole story, the cliffs notes were quite illuminating.

Simoni read it aloud, “… murderers… our homes… devils… justice…” she whispered, then her mind went back to the numbers, “Oh… oh crap I think…”

Nelen gasped a bit, rubbing his arm, “Wrath… the whole room is full of it.” he grimaced.

Simoni glanced at him, then nodded, “I… I think I know whats going on here.” she whispered, “Nelen… there were some numbers burned into a wall upstairs just now…” she walked to what was left of the chalkboard, taking up a piece of chalk that had survived the fire, and wrote them out on the chalkboard.

Nelen looked at it, then frowned, “… that’s… yeah, that sounds about right.” he growled.

Arja frowned, “What is it though? A locker number? An address? What?” she asked.

Simoni took a breath, then added two diagonal slashes into it, so the numbers read: 12/03/22.

“It’s a date.” she said, “December third of… well, something twenty-two.” she nodded, “I think… this is a haunting, and the ghost is trying to tell us when it died.” she replied.

Dawn frowned, then took out her phone and typed in that date, along with New Orleans history, and after reading between a lot of lines… “… you’re right.” she replied, her voice low, “… and it’s a bad one… Nelen, we got a wraith.” she yowled.

Nelen frowned, “Yeah, I kinda had a hunch.” he grimaced, rubbing his arm. “Kids, we might need Aisha’s help for this one. She may not be a full practitioner yet, but she knows the funerary rites.” he nodded, “Call her.” he said.

Simoni nodded and reached for her phone… then suddenly paused, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Standing in the corner was a young girl. She was of African descent, wearing just a dirty white dress, her hair tied in pigtails, crying the tears of a girl who knew something horrible was coming and couldn’t stop it.

Nelen took a step back, shaking his head.

Arja stared, “Where did she come from?” she asked.

Dawn whispered, “Arja, she’s not alive…”

Simoni walked forward, kneeling down, “… um… hello?” she tried.

The girl kept crying, ignoring her… and then they heard a voice echo in their heads.

Why? Why they comin'? We didn't do nuthin' to them... we jes wanna be left alone...

Simoni stumbled backwards, clutching at her head. She felt that, they all did. The raw emotion, the fear, the loss, the despair, bit into all of them. “Augh… that…”

Dawn hissed and shook her head, “Oh man…. This is a bad one…” she frowned.

Nelen gritted his teeth, “Stone tape effect, what happened here stamped the image onto the land itself, and something woke it up. Girls, brace yourselves… this is going to be really rough.” he warned… and suddenly…

Damn white folks. We got next ta nothin' and they gonna take it away too? Where we supposed ta go? They expect us ta swim out inta the ocean 'n live like fish?

There was a woman in the room now. A black woman, her hair tied back under a bandana wearing a long cotton dress. They realized they couldn’t see her eyes…

Suddenly, a man appeared wearing worn trousers and a too-large shirt…

Naw, they don't expect us ta leave. I hear them that wear hoods is comin'...

Simoni gasped, her hands going over her mouth as Arja looked confused, “Hoods?” she asked.

Dawn hissed, “Crap…” she whispered, glancing at Nelen.

So we're just gonna lie down 'n take it? Theys comin' ta kill us and ya'll gonna lie down like a beaten dog 'n show 'em ya belly?! I know things! I know people! They can help us! Them DeLanes can get out here 'n help us! They know th' old magic, they can scare the souls right outta those white bastards!

Another ghost appeared, a teenage boy, this one looking just a year or two older than Arja and Simoni.

The man’s ghost turned to the boy, shaking his head.

We told 'em, sent someone up ta tell 'em soon as we heard the hooded men were comin'... but they ain't helpin' us. The white devils got their own devils now, real ones, and they's watchin' th' DeLanes. They too busy keepin' themselves safe. Th-

And then suddenly a shadow appeared in the doorway… a black hole in the world, but one showing a long pointed hood and flowing robes over a human body. The shadow held it's hand out and several crimson tendrils erupted from the palm covered in razor sharp fangs!

Nelen grimaced and Dawn hissed in shock, Arja swore and fell over a broken desk, and Simoni… stared as if she couldn’t really process what she was seeing.

They knew those, they all knew them! That was a warlock, and the demon he made a pact with…

Slowly all of them turned to Nelen, the warlock clutching his head…

Then the room was in flames, and screams erupted around them! Simoni fell to her knees and slammed her hands over the sides of her head, Arja gritting her teeth and trying to cover her ears, but the screams weren’t sound! They rattled up through their bones, shook their very souls!

The ghosts began to burn, their skin charring, flaking away, and revealing white bones, their clothes incinerating where they stood! Even the youngest one, the little girl, still sobbing, was consumed. They all stared directly at the group as they burned, fat rolling down their faces like tears to expose blackened bone, and then as suddenly as it happened… it was gone.

Simoni gasped, sucking down air, “I… I… that… that was…” she looked up at Nelen…

Arja stared at him, she saw the demon’s ferocity against the rakshasa and manticore… but… this was so much worse…

Nelen however, stood there, his head down and his arms at his sides.

“… what?” he asked, his voice sounding… wrong…

Dawn hissed, stepping back several steps.

“You’re fucking surprised?” he asked, and his head snapped up, his eyes a deep bloody red as he smirked, “I’m a demon, remember? We ain’t nice.” said Merihim.

Arja stared, “Nelen?” she asked.

Dawn shook her head frantically. “That’s not him! That’s Merihim!” she warned.

Arja reacted immediately, jumping infront of Simoni as golden fur burst out all over her body, her claws and fangs extending, “STAY BACK!” she snarled.

Merihim shook his head, “Tch… calm down Diddy Kong. I’m not interested in her.” he frowned, “Forgot all about this place… but it was just a shanty town when I was bound to that klansman…”

Merihim walked around the room, looking around, “Yeaaaaaaaah, I remember this place now… man, that was a fucking wild week…”

Arja growled, “This is YOUR doing?!” she demanded.

Merihim turned to her, glaring down at the vanara, “Well, YEAH. You just saw that. The fangs, the tendrils. There’s only ever one infernal blood mage, and that’s because they have to be bound to ME to use that stuff.”

The demon-possessed warlock looked around, “Yeah, back in the bad ol’ days the Klan wanted to come into New Orleans. Bunch of local white pricks wanted to push out the darkies and do whatever they wanted where they’d been living… but thing is, Aisha’s family was keepin’ the worst out. Businessmen? Fine if they behaved… but the Klu Klux Klan? They even get a whiff of a white hood and that guy would be hanging from a streetlamp by what was left of his dick.” he grinned at them, “I always liked Kalfu’s sense of humor…”

“Anyways, bunch of those jackasses got the idea to fight the DeLanes using magic, but none of them had any talent. If they did they wouldn’t have been in the Klan to begin with, it always was just a bunch of idiots who wanted to blame someone else for all their bullshit. So they got it into their head to call up a bunch of us from downtown… and one of them called up your’s truly…” he grinned, tapping his chest, right over Nelen’s heart.

Arja glared, “So… you got them to do this? You and your demon friends made them tear apart their homes and slaughter them?!” she snarled.

Merihim threw back his head and laughed, a loud cackling sound, “OH AS IF!” he sneered, “You think this was my idea? That was why they summoned us in the first place!” he shook his head, “Lemme let you in on a little secret kid… the devil never makes them do it. We just… help. Sometimes we’ll suggest things, but more often than not they just need an excuse. They threw their souls away so they could find someone they hated and kill them. We don’t make them do anything… we don’t need to.”

Merihim looked around, then gestured to their surroundings, “Sometimes I get summoned for revenge, other times I get summoned to massacre… but the result is always the same. Piles of corpses.” he smirked, “Though… if it helps… that guy?” he gestured to the doorway, “He’s in Hell now, and he’s having buyer’s remorse like you wouldn’t believe…” he sneered.

Arja narrowed her eyes, “You… you’re just some sick parasite, aren’t you?” she spat, “You’re even worse than the rakshasa, at least they have a code of honor, at least they understand loyalty and duty! You’re just a sadistic monster!” she snarled, “Nelen is a good man, he may go too far sometimes, but this… you don’t deserve to share his body!” she spat.

Merihim smirked, “He ever tell you why he summoned me?”

Arja paused at that, “… no… no he didn’t…” she said, realizing that she genuinely didn’t know. Behind her Simoni looked at Arja nervously.

“Revenge. A friend of his in Kentucky came out as gay and was murdered for it… and he threw away his soul so I’d help him get payback.” he sneered. “Two of them are dead, the other two? Hospitalized and invalid for the rest of their godsdamned lives.”

Arja heard Simoni whimper behind her, the vanara girl glancing back at her, “You… knew this?” she asked.

Simoni bit her lip, nodding. “Y-yeah… but… they didn’t just murder his friend, they tortured him to death. I… I didn’t see the pictures but…” she shuddered.

Dawn frowned, “They call it a ‘fag drag.’” she said, “They chained him to the back of a truck, then gunned the engine and took bets on how long he’d be able to keep up. Then kept going once he couldn’t. There wasn’t a lot left of him.” she nodded.

Arja glared back at Merihim, “… yeah, okay… I can see how he’d be angry enough to do something like this… I’d have incinerated them where they stood… but… this… does Nelen know?!” she asked.

Merihim nodded, “Oh he does… my hosts dream of the ones I was paired to in the past. He’s seen all of it… I got summoned to drive back the Inqiusition in Spain once, to help support the French revolutionaries, and to drive back the English in Boston...” replied Merihim, “I also got summoned to tear apart several Native American villages, to destroy an old Mayan city, and to kill the fuck out of a bunch of activists in the seventies.” he smirked, “As long as I get their souls, they get my power… that’s how the contract works. What they do with it is their deal. Then they die, we both fall to Hell, and I wait until someone is dumb enough to do it again.”

Merihim looked around, “Still… this was decades ago, and one of those ‘page torn outta history’ deals. Whitey buried this one deep, they were ashamed of what they’d done… so I gotta wonder how our little necromancer knew…” he muttered, then shrugged, “Eh, whatever. These guys aren’t even souls anymore, just echoes. Call Aisha, she can do the rite to clean this shit up… as for me, I’m going outside. It stinks in here.”

Merihim climbed out through the hole in the wall, and the girls slowly relaxed.

Arja looked at Simoni, “Did you know Merihim could do that?” she asked.

Simoni shook her head frantically, but then Dawn piped up, “I did, but he can only do it when Nelen really gets enraged or when there’s a huge amount of anger or wrath nearby… wraiths do it every time. Dammit I should have gotten him outta here when we figured out what it was…” she hissed.

Simoni swallowed, then took out her phone and dialed Aisha’s number. Nelen had given it to them last night incase he got occupied with whatever was causing the problem.

Simoni explained what they’d found and Aisha made several colorful curses, then said she’d be there quickly as she could… “She’s… she’s on her way… I… sorry I just need some air.” she nodded, climbing out through the hole as well and walking to the parking lot, then sitting down in the grass and shaking her head.

Inside her head she felt like she was screaming. She’d seen Nelen use Merihim’s power, and she believed he could control it, but it was one thing to think he might have been used for truly evil acts in the past and quite another to see evidence of it.

She looked back at the school, feeling ill. There was no mention of this, she knew if she looked she wouldn’t find anything. The story would be buried deep… and then she looked around outside.

It was sunny, no clouds or anything, and she feels a bit betrayed by that. After what just happened it should be dark and stormy with lots of lightning and pouring rain, not this cheerful afternoon where she could hear some kids playing kickball in the nearby park.

But thats how it is, isn't it? The world doesn't listen to what happens to one small group. It doesn't care. It'll go on spinning no matter how many terrible things happen. No burials, no ceremony, not even a proper grave. The school was built right ontop of where the shanty town used to be. Concrete was mixed and poured right above their remains, the ruins of their houses were torn down and sold as firewood or salvage, their lives not even a footnote. It was as if they didn't matter to anyone. They never spoke of what was there, never thought about it, and that was that. ‘Something awful happened, and then it was over, the end.’

She looked up at the sound of footsteps, and Arja sat down next to her. “Easier to deal with naga, isn’t it?” she asked.

Simoni nodded, “… yeah… that… Merihim is a demon, but… he can’t act on earth without a summoner, and…” she shuddered, “Even Franklin was at least fighting stuff that could pose a threat to Humanity, even if it didn’t… these were just…” she shook her head, “… people… just… ordinary humans, mundanes… they could barely fend for themselves, and they were wiped out because someone didn’t like how they looked…”

Arja nodded, putting an arm around Simoni’s shoulders, and the garuda leaned into her, and there really was nothing more that could be said. They had come across an atrocity almost a century too late, and now there was nobody left to defeat or save.

About an hour later Aisha showed up, looking around. She did what she could to send the ghosts on their way, but the Loa hadn’t given her their powers yet… still, she had a few tricks.

She took a step or two back from the hole in the wall and she closed her eyes. She took her time to focus, the school had been closed now that a kid had been hurt, his parents were already screaming lawsuit. Then she opened them… and saw the ghosts.

Aisha had learned a few things before leaving for New York, and one was peeling back the veil to see the dead… and all around her she saw the ghostly remains of the shanty town, and the horrors that occurred there, the woman gritting her teeth at it… then pausing.

Three more stood there, totally out of place, looking at where a house wasn’t… but the school was.

One of them was smaller than her, wearing a long black trenchcoat over a hooded jacket, the hood pulled up to obscure their face, and something large and lumpen in their hands, while the other two… one was definitely not human. He was a huge imposing mountain of muscle with grin like a sawblade and long curling horns growing back from his forehead, a huge, pointed nose and chin making him look like Mr. Punch on steroids.

The other one looked like a human. However, they were dressed like a Victorian era gentleman in a green velvet suit, a tophat on their head and their eyes hidden behind smoked glasses.

As she watched the image of the gentleman looked around, then seemed to look directly at her.

“… boo.”

Aisha went flying as if struck, landing on her back in shock, and then the ground fell away from under her… and she was falling down and down and down into darkness.

Then the screams began, all around her, and the heat, she felt like her skin was burning away! She could hear cries of agony and despair all around her! She couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see!

“Someone… is being very very naughty and spying on my project…” came a voice.

“W-who are you?!” she shouted, her head looking around even though she couldn’t see.

“Oh? You want my name?” he chuckled, “Well you get to go on wanting young lady.” he replied.

She struggled, but she couldn’t move, and she began to feel her bones creaking as an unseen pressure began pushing down on her.

“I would say you’re out of your depth, but I think you know exactly how deep you are… but its been a long time since I had any real fun. February is coming up… you have until the end of the month to find me, or else something truly exciting will happen to New Orleans.”

She squirmed, and then a pair of massive red eyes appeared before her, slitted like a goats. “Tell the Baron that we’ll do whatever we damn well please with the dead. The Fallen don’t care one whit for the whims of an old gravedigger like Samedi!” he snapped.

And then suddenly Aisha was back on the grass, Nelen kneeling next to her as Simoni frantically looked up CPR instructions on her phone.

“I… I saw them!” she gasped, “I… one of them… one of them is definitely not human, and the other…” she coughed, rubbing her chest and sitting up, “Its… he’s got long red hair and looks like some rich guy from the Victorian era… wearing an antique suit… old style sunglasses and a top hat and…” she paused, looking at Nelen.

They all did after the sound he made, the warlock’s eyes wide as Dawn stood next to him, a similar look of horror on her face. “… Aisha… was his suit…” he coughed, “Um… velvet by any chance, in green?”

Aisha nodded, frowning, “… actually, yeah it did look like it… do you know him?” she asked.

Nelen stood up, walking a few steps away, shaking his head, “No… no it can’t be…”

Dawn hissed, “I told you I smelled it last night Nelen…” she frowned up at him.

Nelen shook his head, “You know he’s a Pride demon! They trade forms like baseball cards! It could be someone else from the court!”

Dawn hissed, “He looked like that the entire time we knew him! Its gotta be him!” she insisted, “Dammit I knew this was going to happen!”

“But it can’t be! He’s never given a shit about America! He stuck in England the whole time we knew him and Alex said he’d been a regular at Strangefellows since before he even took over the bar!” he protested.

“So maybe something changed! Maybe Claiomh Dorcadas going kablooey did something to draw him out! I dunno! It has to be HIM!” she shouted.

Nelen gasped, grabbing his arm, “I… I dunno… I…”

Finally, Aisha spoke up, “Nelen… who is HIM?” she demanded.

Nelen grimaced, “… um… so… funny story, ya know how I learned this binding trick for Merihim?” he asked… and then he shouted in pain as his arm snapped out, his fingers frantically jerking and spasming all over.

“DAMMIT MERIHIM! SHUT UP!” he snarled, “WE STILL DON’T KNOW!” he shouted…

And then suddenly his head snapped around the other way, his eyes going blood red, “THE HELL WE DON’T NELEN! YOU KNOW DAMN WELL ITS AL! YOU FUCKING IDIOT OF A WIZARD! YOU KNOW ITS HIM! HE’S FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH US!”

Nelen grimaced as Dawn leapt backwards, her eyes huge as Aisha swore, scrambling to her feet as her hand went to Claiomh Solais’ hilt.

“Okay! So it could be him if he still uses that form… but…” he stammered.

His head snapped back around and Merihim shouted, “BUT NOTHING! Forget the damn plan! We’ll deal with the manticore without Samedi’s help! Get us back to India! NOW!”

Aisha stared, “Whaaaaaaaaaat is going on here?” she asked.

Simoni chuckled nervously, “Um… so, that magic Nelen uses? That’s because he has a demon living inside him…” she replied.

Aisha nodded slowly, “… that explains the exploding vampires…” she muttered.

Nelen struggled against Merihim’s control, then shot back, “Dammit Merihim! We can’t fight that thing without him! Samedi is right! Unless we have his power he’ll tear us in half!” he shot back.

His head jerked around the other way, his eyes going red again, “I DON’T FUCKING CARE! I’m not going back to Hell because that bastard found us, or did you forget you still owe him for telling you about THESE FUCKING BANDAGES?! INDIA! NOW! MOVE IT!” he roared, shaking his hand for emphasis.

Aisha frowned, “No, no way. That ‘Al’ guy said I have to find him by the end of February, or something is going down in New Orleans. I get it, but this guy ain’t just fuckin’ around. He’s blowing shit up and disturbin’ the dead. I dunno why he’s getting involved in shit like this, but we ain’t going anywhere until we deal with this.”

Nelen struggled, then looked up with blood red eyes, “The fuck we are. We’re leaving! New Orleans can fend for itself!” he growled, “Al is a demon of the court of Pride and I am NOT going up against one of them. Don’t ask me the rest of his name. Me, Nelen, and the cat are all ensorcelled. We can’t say it. We strangle ourselves if we try.”

Arja snarled at Merihim, “Oh so now you’re suddenly scared? An hour ago you were laughing your ass off at what happened here and telling us about what a big bad demon you were, but now you’re suddenly terrified of this thing?” she stormed forward, shifting into her vanara form, “Nelen may have done some bad things, but he’s a good man and he still has the chance to bring his karma into balance. I’m not going to let you force him to run away from a city in danger!” she shouted.

Merihim glared at her, “You fucking inbred chimpanzee, you don’t GET it! This isn’t about some random bastard from the pit! The demons in hell draw their power from the leader of their courts, all of them… but Pride is the strongest of them all! There is only one being in Hell that can claim Pride as their sin!” he snarled. “Al draws his power from Lucifer the Morningstar HIMSELF! He’s almost as powerful as Carman when he’s on earth, and you’re suggesting we go and try to stop HIM?! Are you SUICIDAL?!”

Arja glared right back, “I have spent the last few weeks full of grief and anger over the truth of Rama’s Arrow and I am ready to take something APART for it. Now I have a name and a cause, and NOTHING is going to stop me. We will not leave, and you can’t make us… and if you do run away, Drusilla will find out and I doubt she’ll be happy you forced the father of her child to be a coward…” she smirked.

Merihim glared, “Oh she’ll have a better reason than that to be angry at him soon enough…”

Simoni frowned, “… wait, you said Nelen owes Al for telling him about how to bind you… but… if its powerful enough to stop a demon that can tear apart a rakshasa it won’t be a small thing will it? Its going to be something valuable… something he loves…” she said.

At this, Merihim faltered, the red fading a bit in his eyes. “Grgh… s-shut up…” he snarled.

Arja nodded, “Yeah… something irreplaceable maybe…” she added. Behind her Dawn suddenly did the best poker face she could, looking around anxiously as she did.

“I SAID SHUT UP! We’re leaving right…” he hissed, gripping his head as he tried to turn… but his legs wouldn’t move. “SHUT YOUR DAMN NOISE NELEN! I’M NOT GOING TO HELL FOR THIS! I DON’T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU WANT! I-…” he screamed, then suddenly his right arm flexed, his hand balled itself into a fist, and the full strength of Nelen Fullmoon slammed home… into his own stomach.

Merihim fell to his knees, clutching at his gut, and slowly fell forward onto the ground, and lay very still.

After a moment Simoni walked forward and poked him carefully with her foot. “… unconscious… I guess Merihim can’t make him leave if they’re out cold.” she chuckled nervously.

Arja frowned, “Well shit, at least we have a name and a face now. Dawn, can you teleport him into the car?” she asked.

Dawn nodded, warping Nelen into the backseat as the girls climbed in as well, Aisha getting in the driver’s seat.

Simoni chuckled, “Okay, so Merihim said that this Al guy is as powerful as Carman… but we beat her! Whats the worst that could happen?” she asked.

Aisha frowned, “Ain’t Carman that woman I stabbed and then that island got blown to shit?” she asked.

Simoni winced, “Oh… right, yeah…” she muttered as the car rolled out of the parking lot, driving away.

An old manor house in Ireland

Castle Fullmoon was gone, but no hunter family had just one place to call home. They all knew the importance of having handy boltholes, hiding spots, or just somewhere to stand with your back to the wall.

Inside this particular one sat Jeannie Fullmoon, the current matriarch of the clan, as her advisors told her of the situation.

“Our men have arrived in Jaipur and met with Rajesh Barjar and his wife. They have been given full authority to work with the Jaipur police as ‘specialists in the control and containment of dangerous animals.’” the aide said.

Jeannie nodded, “Aye, good good… with any luck they can keep that bloody thing busy long enough fer the kids ta get done wut needs be doin’.” she said, leaning on her cane as she looked towards the door as it opened. “Ah good, yer here. They’re in New Orleans by now, ‘n somethin’ is happenin’ there. I tried ta scry the situation, but what I saw…” she shook her head, “They’ll need backup gel. Go. Quickly.”

The newcomer grinned and nodded, then walked out of the room and down to the motor pool. A moment later a car drove to the nearest city. They found a convenient parking garage, then parked the car and put her hand to the wall. A moment later, they entered the Wulfshead Club… and vanished from this world for a time.

#supernatural adventures #fiction #lgbtq #modern fantasy

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couldntbedamned · 2 years

Text

Feels So Right, Can’t Be Wrong - Yellow Tulip

Summary:

The setting: Sanctum General Hospital in Sanctum Heights, New Amsterdam

Starring: Sharon Carter - former Central Security Bureau operative, Selecting Spouse in a horrifically failed Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections marriage, patient AND Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark - owner and CEO of Stark Industries, Futurist determined to rebuild a world his father built weapons to destroy, love interest

With Appearances by: Nurse Wong, Orderly Rintrah, and Billy the Admin

And Featuring Doctor Stephen Strange as "the Surgeon"

Or, "Five Dates Tony and Sharon Had in Her Hospital Room and One They Had After She Was Discharged"

AO3 Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Marriage of Convenience, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Getting to Know Each Other, Dating, Past Domestic Violence, 5 Times, Annoyed Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Sharon Carter Deserves the World

Author’s Note: So this kind of just popped up as I was kicking around thoughts of just how Tony and Sharon met and eventually fell in love as mentioned in my fic Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue, so this takes place well before the events of and can be read independently of that story.

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Yellow Tulip

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After confirming that Sharon wasn’t bound to any dietary restrictions, and after being told by a stern Nurse Wong that alcohol was strictly forbidden, Tony had dinner catered.

He’d managed to acquire another three overbed tables, looped them all together, and threw a simple tablecloth over them. He’d set up a little no-flame candle. Then, after he insisted she close her eyes, she heard him fiddling with something and when he said it was all ready, she saw he’d added a small crystal vase with a single yellow tulip.

Tony helped her into one of the chairs in the private room and rather than pushing her chair in, he rolled the table closer to her before taking his own seat opposite her.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted with a smile. She couldn’t remember having a date be so considerate or thorough… certainly not… no, she wouldn’t think about that man.

Tony grinned and in that moment, he looked as giddy as a schoolboy. It was endearing and had her wondering just how much of his brash, quippy nature was actually a public persona he wore.

“It took like, maybe twelve minutes.”

She snorted, uncaring of how unladylike the gesture was.

“Anywho, I figured I’d start with Italian food, in honor of my dearly departed… nanny.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “I’m so sorry,” she said hastily, when he lifted a brow. “I really thought you were going to say mother.”

Tony didn’t look offended, just amused. “No, I get it. You are definitely not the first. Mom was Italian but Martina raised me, along with our butler, Jarvis.”

“Fair enough,” Sharon said. “So, what are we having?”

Tony lifted one of the shiny domed lids.

There was hot, fresh bread already sliced and olive oil with an herb mix for dipping.

“How’s civilian life, former soldier-spouse aside?” Tony asked.

“That is a bold opening question!” she exclaimed.

“Fortune favors the bold,” Tony said easily.

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She considered her answer. “Civilian life is… definitely taking some getting used to. Six months in and I’m still trying to learn how to sleep past six am.” She shrugged and dipped another piece of bread in the oil. “Mostly though I’m just so bored; I have far more free time than I’ve had in seven years.”

“Just how structured was life as Mata Hari?” He asked.

“It varied. The CSB had us all in what was essentially boot camp for a year, then trainee work for a year before they sent us on assignments.” She ate another piece of the delicious bread. “That’s really all I’m at liberty to disclose.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a smile, echoing her earlier words.

A small Cardini salad followed with seasoned garlicky croutons that nearly melted in her mouth.

“What brought you to New Amsterdam?” Sharon asked.

“Our mutual friend the Surgeon bought the whole Stark Kitchen Living Collection and I’ve been overseeing the installation.”

The doctor had good taste; she’d considered the collection for her house, though the other occupant had scoffed at such luxury. She pushed thoughts of him away. “Hot Rod Red?” She asked playfully.

“Superior Sapphire, actually,” Tony answered. “The Surgeon prefers a cooler color palette.”

“How is the installation going?”

“Good! I got the first half of the wiring finished this morning and we’ll start installing the refrigeration cabinet and ovens Thursday afternoon. It should be finished by Friday.”

“And after it’s finished?”

He smiled, genuine and charming. “I’ll still have two dates, one Friday night and the last on Saturday night,” he said.

“Let’s hope they’ll be good ones,” she said with a little toast of the sparkling Italian grape juice he’d brought.

The main course wasn’t spaghetti or rigatoni as she’d been expecting, but Chicken Scaloppini with a Marsala cream reduction on top of mashed potatoes with a side of roasted broccolini.

Stark, I could kiss you, she thought as she savored her first taste of the potatoes that had been mashed with hefty amounts of garlic and heavy cream.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” he asked, sounding perfectly smug.

She nearly moaned upon tasting the Marsala cream sauce. “Yes, dammit.”

He gave a little fake gasp. “Such language from the lady!”

She rolled her eyes and finished chewing the cooked-to-perfection chicken. “I was a spy, Stark. You have no idea what language is.”

“Want to teach me?”

She looked up sharply at him. His eyes were teasing and he had that easy grin on his face, the grin that had charmed millions.

“That’s more of a second date kind of activity,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to it!”

They traded a few stories, nothing heavy or deep-diving into either of their pasts. It wasn’t the time for that, they knew.

Dessert turned out to be small dishes of panna cotta topped with a peach and blueberry rum compote.

She eyed him incredulously. “I would have been happy with a burger, fries, and milkshake but this is incredible!” She gushed.

He smiled and there was a warmth in his eyes that had her feeling tingly and vulnerable all at once. “I told you, I want to do this right.”

She was trained to discern the truth and there was nothing facetious about what he’d said.

“Well then, dessert and a show? It’s Tuesday evening, so Are You Scared of the Dark? will be playing on Station N1K.”

He made a show of consideration. “That’s the spooky story one, right, where they sit around a campfire?” At her nod, he continued. “I may need you to hold my hand if it gets really scary.”

“As long as it doesn't come between me and the panna cotta, I can definitely do that.”

Perfectly happy with the guise of needing support for the spooky stories being, Sharon let Tony hold her hand until the show ended and he quietly cleared the room and set the vase with the yellow tulip on her nightstand. He pressed a kiss to her hand.

“I had a great time,” he said.

She smiled, happy but tired. “Me too. Thank you for the flower.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he left she let her head fall back onto her pillow. She had physical therapy and rehabilitation in the morning, but she was actually looking forward to it. She wanted to be healed and able to go on a proper date.

She looked up at the knock on her door. Nurse Wong.

“He was a gentleman,” she said before the man could ask. “I had a lovely time.”

Wong nodded. “I’m glad.”

He dispensed her medication for the night and she fell asleep dreaming of a night spent around a campfire, holding Tony’s hand.

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Author’s Notes (again): Yellow Tulip - sunshine in your smile

#tony stark x sharon carter #sharon carter x tony stark #iron 13 #1950s modern fusion au #couldntbedamned fic #this is so self-indulgent #tony stark #sharon carter

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