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foryoumyheroes · 4 years

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Otaku

[Bakugou + Todoroki] are in love with the anime character [Name].

A/N: Gender-neutral reader Crackish??

Bakugou Katsuki:

He’s sort of picky with the genre, be it fantasy, horror, shonen, but his favorite character has to be a super cool, super powerful one. No excuses.

You know, the type of anime character that’s probably introduced through a silhouette of them posing dramatically with their notorious group whose image is teased throughout the first few episodes/seasons.

He goes pretty hard for All Might, and he’s definitely the same for your character.

Reads the manga (but he buys it super secretly, like in a hoodie at night and the cashier probably thinks that they’re being robbed until he brings the entire [Series] collection to the register). Watches the anime the moment it’s broadcasted, reads metas and watches youtube videos that talk about conspiracies/analyses of your character.

NO ONE CAN KNOW THOUGH.

He’s taking his anime phase to the grave.

For some reason gets super aggressive when you’re being flirty or being shipped with another character?? He hates all the scenes that tease any potential romance between you and other characters. asdfgj He’s like, “No one is good enough for [Name]!!! Except for me.”

He even tries to think up ways he can legitimately square up with them LMAO. Like he wonders how he could defeat your potential S/Os in a fight but y’all are like ,,, anime characters SO WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER LOL

“Three-sword style?? Tch, I’d fucking blow that bastard to bits.”

“Who’s this Gaara of the Sand looking ass and why is the author getting so bold.”

He even tries to think of how well your abilities match up with his own Quirk, this dork.

THE LENGTHS HE WOULD GO FOR YOU.

If you were a real life person and your dislikes are lets say spicy food or loud, overbearing people, Bakugou would be like, “Tch I’m right, they’re wrong. Shut the fuck up!!!” But if his ultimate wifu/husbando has those dislikes he would be like, “Omg...😳😳 opposites attract...👉👈”

He honestly tries to be a low-key fan (as in, not be a fan at all to outsiders), but if one day during class Kaminari ends up saying that in [Series], you’re the weakest character in your group/squad, Bakugou would get super angry.

“Hey, Dunceface!! It’s so fucking obvious that you’re an anime-only fake fan, so don’t talk as if you know shit!”

Bakugou is those “um actually” ;; fans

Bakugou is a manga reader, so by the time your introduction scene or Ultimate Attack scene is being aired he becomes super OOC. He’s hyped for it for days, incredibly nervous at how the animators handle the scene.

By the time he watches it??

THE ANIMATION!! THE VOICE ACTING!! YOUR COOLNESS!!! PLS ORA ORA HIM IN THE CHEST!! HE’S BEGGING YOU! IF YOU’RE GOING TO UNISON RAID WITH ANYONE PLS LET IT BE HIM!!

He’s legitimately sweating buckets by the time the episode is over. A whole-ass fire hazard.

Probably knows how to play your character theme on the drums.

Omg but if your character dies/is hinted toward dying/or the most recent chapters ends with a cliffhanger where you’re fatally injured he will become legitimately depressed.

Like holes himself in his dorm room for a whole day without contacting anyone and with the blinds drawn type of depressed.

When he comes to class the next day with eye-bags and is slouching and his classmates think that something horrible has happened, it’s probably only Izuku who knows what’s going on.

He’ll say, “You’re upset about the most recent chapter of [Series], right? I know it must be hard for you right now.” He’ll give Bakugou an officially licensed rubber strap of your character and Bakugou will just ;; cradle it in his hands softly.

In complete seriousness, your character is probably someone who is strong physically, but publicly rallies for things like, “Failure is fine.” Your character arc would probably explore what it’s like being not good enough or feeling constantly disappointed, so he feels comfort in your character.

Todoroki Shoto:

In comparison to Bakugou, he’s probably a more low-key fan unintentionally, but goes just as hard.

Buys all of the merch, limited-edition or not, has your picture set as his phone lockscreen and homescreen, has a little acrylic charm of you on his phone, follows several fanartists that draw your character on social media. He buys enough merch that his room looks like a glorified shrine.

It’s canon that he reads manga, but I headcanon that he’s even less picky with his genres and willingly reads things like slice-of-life or shojo all the way to shonen or adult fantasy, so your anime could come from any possible story.

Your character is probably someone who is sweet and kind but has a traumatic character backstory.

He probably ends up thinking stuff like, “If [Name] was with me, I would never let them get treated like that.” asdhj he’s a dork too.

Unironically dramatically quotes you during battle and thinks that it’s still badass because he’s a teenage boy in his anime phase.

Doesn’t get into debates with people who don’t like your character. He’s like, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion :)) even though they’re wrong. >:(.”

If you’re from a sports/competition anime he’ll try to learn all of the rules, and even try it out for himself (if it’s not fighting) but he finds out that he’s... not very good at it. That doesn’t make him any less amazed though!

If your character is from a different culture with different customs and traditions, he’ll even learn more about them outside of your anime!

Forces his siblings to watch the anime with him. They don’t necessarily have to, but the Todoroki household has one big TV and he hogs it all the time watching your anime over and over.

Natsuo is begging him to watch something else and Shoto will just pout angrily from the other side of the couch.( ￣＾￣)

It’s so jarring because he doesn't look or appear like a hardcore anime fan, but sometimes he’ll just butt into conversations randomly and talk about you.

Like you know those tumblr Naruto posts that talk about it as if it’s some sort of Renaissance literature. That’s Todoroki.

[”Man, they’re so hot--!”

“You want to see someone hot?” Todoroki asks with a perfectly straight face, and he’ll just... turn his phone around and show them a picture of an anime character.]

When his dad tries to set him up with someone else: “You think they’re my type? Do they watch [Series]? Do they know what true friendship is?? Do they understand pining and love the way [Name] does?”

Endeavor: who the FUCK is [Name].

Gets into fanfiction because of your character and series. He’ll just be reading on his phone during break times at school and everyone thinks that he’s being so well-read but he’s just reading pure smut with a straight face.

Doesn’t mind when you’re shipped with other characters necessarily but he is super picky. If your character is hinted toward a potential romance with another character that’s pretty crass and doesn’t necessarily treat you well but you’re sticking together through the power of friendship, he won’t ship it.

He’s just like “[Name] would be so much happier with someone else like me.” :////

And if your character goes through something traumatic or terrible during the series he’ll be so sad, like soooo sad. :((( Deku would probably be comforting him on the couch in the common room and everyone is concerned because he looks like he’s mourning a lost pet, but it turns out to be over some anime character pshhhsdfh.

Deku would just be patting his shoulder trying to console him and Todoroki’s just sitting there with a big frown on his face going, [“But they’ve been through so much throughout the anime already...”

“I know, Todoroki-kun, I know...”

“The author can’t do that to them... It’s just not fair.”

“I get it,” Midoriya says mournfully.]

Plot twist: They like the same anime character

They’ll probably find out when they have to retake the license exam together.

Todoroki will just take his phone out during off times and Bakugou’s eyes looks over because it’s drawn by the noise but then his head just snaps to the side when he realizes its a little charm of you, like, he’s going to get whiplash from that.

“What the -- is that [Surname] [Name]?!”

Like they have never really hung out together before this, so when they both first realize that their favorite character of all time is [Name] they’re left ,, just standing there ,,, pointing at each other like the spiderman meme.

At first they’re both inwardly excited because FINALLY someone cultured and with taste. They spend the entire time talking about your stats, your attacks, your post-timeskip character design, and your personality, and then they delve a little bit deeper and then they realize ,,, oh.

Bakugou says that you don’t belong with the dumb protagonist, you should be shipped with someone strong, confident and loud, but Todoroki is like noooooo they deserve to be with someone that treats them gently.

They connect the dots.

[“Bakugou, you aren’t compatible with [Name]. It says so in their trivia page.”

“Says you! They won’t want some bland-ass pretty boy! They would want a real man!”]

They’re such fanboys ;;; they do realize that you aren’t real, right asdfghj?

One day Kaminari and Sero separately invite them to an anime convention, but they both say no and that they have plans or “something better to do” that day.

Then Bakugou and Todoroki both turn up to the convention at the same place because they both reach for the last limited edition [Name] figure and they just stare at each other wide-eyed (ʘoʘ╬) like that.

They start verbally fighting each other over the last figure and then physically fighting each other andddd then they get kicked out of the convention.

Izuku ends up swooping in and getting the last box.

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chironshorseass · 3 years

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would you mind sharing your opinion on reyna's surname?

sure thing!

so her full name, according to rick, is: reyna avila ramirez-arellano. right off the bat, my first issue with it is that she has three surnames. even for hispanic kids, there should only be one. i’ve actually read posts were they say that ávila is her middle name, but it doesn’t make sense because that’s a common surname?(another issue is the spelling; it would be ávila, not avila. that’s not how it’s spelled lol, because the accent changes pronunciation...but that’s another topic if ur into spanish grammar. im just being nit-picky ig). so making “ávila” part of her name either means that rick thought that that was a suitable middle name (??) or he just wanted to make reyna have those moments were the character goes, “i’m latina and have the loooongest surname ever✨ did i mention i’m latina?”

if he’d actually done some research, he would’ve realized that:

for latine ppl, three surnames is not common.

if someone does have three surnames (i do), one of them is hyphenated like reyna’s is (like mine is as well). but it’s usually short. it also means that the hyphenated surname counts as one. so for example, ramirez-arellano is technically just one surname. but it still doesn’t make sense. nothing about her name does. which leads me to número tres.

reyna wouldn’t even have two surnames in the first place. she’s a demigod. i don’t think the roman goddess bellona has a surname lmao. at least, not a legal one that could make it to reyna’s birth certificate. unless bellona used the mist?? but if rick knew what he was doing, it would’ve been specified—and anyway, her father didn’t marry bellona; it makes no sense that reyna would have two surnames.

okay, so if you don’t know what i'm talking about with the last part, i'll quickly explain. the reason as to why why latin americans (and spaniards) have two surnames instead of one is because traditionally, when a woman gets married, she doesn’t change her surname. instead, when the family has kids, she’ll pass on her surname to her children. usually, the paternal surname is the one that goes first, and then the mother’s. the combination of both parents’ names represents a unity between the two legal families. in the case of reyna, however, no such union happened. bellona left and that was that. so why does reyna have, not one, but three different names? because rick wanted to add on the stereotype of long ass names lmao.

it’s just a mess. the hyphenated ramirez-arellano would mean that at some point her father’s family decided to merge in two different family names? when it could’ve just been ramirez de arellano? where did that name come from, anyway? why did he add in ávila, for that matter? because reyna fits nicely as a ramirez; there’s no need for that ávila. ngl i prefer that she be named ramirez than ávila lol. but anyway, that’s just my opinion.

the point is that it makes no sense and was just a way for her to sound edgy and like the “maría josefina de las rosas ximenez” type of stereotypical latina shit that is made fun of in western media. leo didn’t get this treatment, which means rick understood the basics of matrimony and why, when there’s no father in the picture, the kid gets the mother’s surname. lol. so why did he do this to reyna? i want to scream because fdkjghdkjf she canonically hates her surname as well. please ricardo!!! the least you could’ve done at this point was make her proud of her name and culture! this mess could’ve worked out if, one way or another, reyna explained the reasons behind her surnames. did her father want to pass on his mother’s surname to his daughters?

patrick. patrick, hey. look me in the eyes. u reading this too? ok. see it’s not that hard to research about this, patrick. it could’ve been mentioned in passing. or better yet! let’s not write her as having that monstrosity of a name! smh all we got was a walking stereotype that didn’t even make sense. actually no. the least rick could’ve done was spell it right lmaooo.

#rick crit #reyna ramirez arellano #i don't like it but ig that would be her name #mechanicasims #mari’s ted talks #phew that was long #u know what? i don't blame her for hating her name #me too girlie come here I'll give u a well deserved hug since rick also gave u the worst trauma imaginable #and still he treats u like this

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forever-rogue · 4 years

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Apples & Lattes

A/N: Not requested or anything, but I have been in my fall and Marcus feels, so here we are. Its just a lot of sweet fluff, but I hope you all enjoy 💕🥰

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“When are you going to finally settle down and get married?” you nearly choked on your wine as your mother calmly asked you the question you’d pointedly hoped wouldn’t happen. But here it was. Again. Just like so many other times.

Once you’d calmed down and cleared the sweet, red wine from your throat, you set your glass down and plastered the kindest smile you could muster up on your face. The air in the room was so thick with tension it was physically palpable, “I’m not.. I’m not even seeing anyone, Mom. I don’t think that’s a feasible question at this point.”

“But honey,” there was that sticky sweet and concerned tone again, “you’re getting older and still haven’t married. Aren’t you worried that you’ll end up alone? Why haven’t you found anyone yet?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern,” you sighed as you pushed your plate away, suddenly losing your appetite. You knew you shouldn’t have to come to Sunday Dinner at your parents’ house. Everyone else in the room was deathly silent - no was sure what to say or do, “but um, no, it’s never occurred to me. I don’t think about it, really.”

Oh, but you did. You just weren’t about to admit that to her just yet.

“Look at all your friends, and colleagues,” she wasn’t about the let issue go. Fantastic, you wanted to groan and slam your head onto the table then and there, “they’re all married, getting married, or starting their own families.”

“And that’s great for them,” you cut her off, “I’m just not there, and honestly, I don’t know if I ever will be. And that’s just fine by me. I don’t have to be like everyone else.”

“I just want you to be happy-”

“And I am,” you insisted. And you were - truly. But there was a part of you that did long for more... “really. I’m also busy with work - in case you’ve forgotten I run my own business. Besides, I just haven’t met anyone that’s really caught my eye.”

You’d gone on dates here and there, but no ever really seemed to be...the one. The one you’d be willing risk it all for and with. Sure, some were nice, really nice, and others were good for a night in bed, but you’d never deemed anyone worthy of more. Your time was precious, and you weren’t about to waste it on anyone just because, just so you could have a half hearted relationship that ultimately left you unfulfilled.

“Maybe you should be...less picky,” she suggested and you almost snorted laughter.

"Listen," you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping lucky against the wooden floor, "this has been great and all, but I'm going to go. I didn't come here to be berated and belittled because of choices I've made. If I wanted that, I'd serve a customer a wrong order. And no, mom, I'm not going to be less picky or lower my standards just to find someone and please you."

"What if you ever find someone? You're so arrogant and stubborn sometimes-"

"Then so be it," you tossed the napkin onto the table and gave everyone a mock bow before turning to leave, "and then I'll be a lonely, but happy, old spinster!"

Before anyone of them could respond with so much as a sound, you stormed out of the room and out of the house, ready to be far, far away from them.

»»————-　♡　————-«

"Come on," you whispered under your breath as you reached for the last few apples on the branch. They were just out of your reach, and you were stretching precariously across the way trying to get them. The rickety old ladder under you wobbled slightly, but ignored its protests, reaching just a little more. These were the most perfect apples you had seen in some time and you needed them. Had to have them even.

Which was exactly why you were risking life and limb for them.

Finally, one of them came into contact with your gloved and you had made a small sound of triumph. But before you grab it and put in the bucket hanging from another of the branches, the ancient ladder decided it had had enough. And it started to tip over, causing you to do the same.

Everything happened so fast you almost didn't have to react, instead you braced yourself for the hard impact with the cold ground.

But it never came.

Instead you felt yourself securely enveloped in a pair of strong arms. When everything felt safe again, you slowly opened your eyes and peeked around to study your surroundings. Instead of the hard, dirty ground, you meet a pair of warm, soft chocolate eyes.

"Are you okay?" If his eyes were sweet and honeyed, then the voice that met your ears was even more so. You tried to find your own and tell him that yes, despite almost breaking your neck for some apples, you were just fine. But nothing came out - instead you stared at him, feeling a flush of warmth wash over you. He seemed concerned for a moment when you didn't respond but eventually you nodded and he gently set you back down, "there you are."

"I...ugh...erm...thank you," your voice finally seemed to return to as you bit your lip, suddenly feeling more shy than ever. Where was this suddenly coming from? Was it because you had quite literally fallen into the arms of one of the most handsome men you had ever seen? Possibly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked with a warm chuckle. Slowly, ever so gently, he put his hand under your chin and tilted your face up to make sure there was no visible damage. His touch was like pure fire, sending a warmth and sparks throughout your veins.

"Yes," you said softly, giving him an affirmative nod, "just umm...apparently not very careful. Totally my own fault."

"That old thing wasn't helping," he gave the now ruined ladder a dismissal look, "it was ready to collapse at any moment."

"It didn't help that I was leaning over and trying to get those apples," you pointed at the few that remained, sighing heavily. You'd really wanted them, but now it looked like you'd have to leave them behind. Along with the rest that you had picked and left hanging in the bucket. Maybe you'd find some other good ones on another tree...

"Those?" he asked, pointing at the branch as you nodded sadly. A megawatt grin crossed his features as he walked over to the base of the tree, "the bucket - it's yours too?"

"Yes...I guess I should go back and get another ladder...hopefully they have some more," you were definitely more upset about your apples than you should have been. But hey, you'd been hunting for and picking apples for hours.

"No need," he said quickly. You were about to ask him what he meant but he quickly answered your silent question by climbing the tree and scaling the branch, effortlessly grabbing your bucket. But he didn't stop there - oh no. He siddled carefully along the branch and picked the remainder of your precious apples, setting them in the bucket along with the others.

Your mouth was open as you watched him in wonder, amazed by how effortless he made everything seem. Before you knew it, he was jumping down landing on his feet gracefully, a little smile on his face as you just watched him in awe.

"I believe these are yours," he said as he held out the bucket, filled to the brim with your treasures, "what's so special about these particular apples?"

"These are the perfect blend of tart and sweet," you said softly as you slowly took them from him, "for baking and making all sorts of pastries. They're hard to find around here and this orchard only has a few of the specific trees. So...I wanted to make sure I got them."

"And now you have them," he beamed at you as you struggled not to completely melt under his soft gaze, "I hope they serve you well. Do you do a lot of baking?”

"I-"

"Pike!" someone shouted as the man's face visibly contorted into a look of annoyance. You tried to hold back your giggles as he dramatically rolled his eyes, "we have to go!"

"I'll be right there!" he let out a long sigh before meeting your eyes again and giving you an almost apologetic look, to which you answered with a soft smile, "well, I guess this is goodbye."

"Thank you," you held out your hand for him to shake. He wasted no time in shaking it in his much larger one, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, "I appreciate you saving both my neck, literally and metaphorically, and getting my apples for me."

"Don't mention it," he said softly, "it was a pleasure to meet you. I didn't get your name and I -"

"Pike! Now!"

"Better get going," you jerked your head in the direction of the man that was shouting for him. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, you were reluctant to see him go, "thank you again."

He opened his mouth to say something else but instead his name was shouted yet again. Hanging his head in annoyance, he exhaled sharply through his nose, "any time..."

Not wanting him to get in any trouble, you took your apples and gave him one last wave before walking away. Your feet had never felt so heavy and every part of you was humming to turn around and go back to him. To at least get his name, first name anyways as you assumed Pike must have been his surname. But you didn't. Why bother? You'd never see him again and it wouldn't do well to dwell on him or what had happened. It was just an accident and he was a nice man that helped you. A one and done deal; it wasn't like you'd just met Prince Charming.

Then why did you want to turn around and run after him?

Marcus watched as you trekked away, wondering if there was actually a bounce in your step or if he was imagining it. He sighed deeply at what he already deemed the most annoying thing to happen in a long time. As he watched you, he realized that your scarf had fallen and been left on the ground. Marcus quickly picked it up, ready to rush after you and return it. But you were already gone. Clutching onto the soft, still slightly warm fabric, he tucked it into his pocket. One way or another he would find it and return it to you. He was an FBI agent for goodness sake, it should be an easy task.

"Pike!" Marcus cursed under his breath as he turned around to leave. He would find you again, he vowed, no matter what.

»»————-　♡　————-«

By the way the man called Pike had been living in your mind rent free for what seemed to be days, you'd think you'd have done a lot more than exchange a few words with him.

But alas.

You'd had your one interaction with him and the rest had been daydream fantasies. You'd even let your mind wander so far as to wonder what it would be like to kiss those plump pouty lips that were burned into your mind. You wondered if he was always so kind and thoughtful or if it had been a matter of convenient timing.

Or something...it was a random encounter and you were just glad he had been there to catch you.

As you another pie down to cool, you softly heard your name being called from the doorway. It was Sabrina, one of your several loyal employees, poking her head in and offering you a smile.

"What's up?" you asked as you wiped your hands on the rag over your shoulder before tossing it onto the counter.

"There's someone here to see you," there was something about the little grin on her face that had you intrigued. You tilted your head curiously, "just..come on."

"I'm busy with-"

"Come on," she innocently with wide eyes as you laughed lightly, amused by her persistence. You didn’t normally have people come and directly ask for you...not unless it was an off moment and someone was mad about something trivial, “the apple pies can wait.”

“I almost died for these apples,” you joked, stripping off your apron and laying it down on the counter, “this better be worth it.”

“Oh, I think it will be,” she promised as she held the door open for you and let you go in front of her. As you walked up to the counter, you prepared to put on your best customer service voice, hoping whatever little problem it was could be solved with a smile and a slice of pie.

As the person came into view, your mouth dropped open as he quickly locked eyes with you. His own mouth quickly turned into a grin, his warm, soft eyes almost twinkling.

“Hi,” you barely managed to choke out as you walked over to him. You hadn’t expected to see him again. Ever. But here he was, in your own little coffee shop out of all the places in the world. This had to be some sort of dream, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Hi,” he replied, producing his hand from behind his back, holding out your scarf to you. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten about it, having made peace with the face that you’d probably lost it somewhere. But this was most definitely a welcome surprise. Your favorite scarf back - and hand delivered by a handsome man? This was definitely too good to be true, “you dropped this at the orchard last weekend. I wanted to make sure you had it back.”

“Thank you so much,” you gently took it from him, clutching the soft fabric tightly to your chest.

"You found me..." you said softly, amazed by his sleuthing skills. You hadn't even gotten the chance to give him your name and he had still found you. But then again...surely a coincidence..."how did you manage that? I didn't even get a chance to give you my name..."

"Well, it's kind of a part of the job," he said as you raised an eyebrow at him. His mouth formed a small o as his cheeks took on a pink tinge, "I realize that doesn't quite sound right. I swear I'm not some sort of stalker."

"That sounds like exactly what a stalker would say," you laughed as he hung his head in mock defeat, "even if you are, it was very kind of you to return my scarf."

"FBI," he admitted softly under his breath as you mulled it over. It would explain the suit, which you thought fit him perfectly, but then you caught a quick peek of a badge under the jacket. You were sure it said FBI on it. Maybe he was legit, "I work for the FBI."

"How perfectly mysterious," you teased with a small wink, "all this trouble for a scarf? I'm just curious...how did you put it all together?"

"Itwasformorethanthescarf," he mumbled so quickly you weren't able to quickly catch everything. Before you could ask him for clarification, however, he continued, "it wasn't hard really."

"Oh?" you grinned, "do tell. If you've got the time, of course..."

"I do actually-"

"Wait!" you almost jumped in excitement as a wicked little idea crossed your mind, "do you like apple pie?"

"Its my favorite," he admitted shyly.

"Great," you beamed at him, "I have fresh apple pie, with the apples from last weekend! You have to try it. How do you take your coffee?"

“A little bit of cream and a healthy amount of sugar,” you couldn’t help but grin at the simple order, thinking it suited him perfectly. You motioned for him to sit at a quiet little table in the corner as you got to work. You could feel his kind eyes on you the entire time as you prepared your coffees, hoping you made it to his liking.

Sabrina must have been lurking nearby and listening as she popped out with two plates of warm, fresh pie. Flashing you an innocent smile, she flounced over to Marcus, and set the pie down with an overly cheery smile.

“He’s cute,” she whispered as she pushed past you, “you’ve finally found a keeper it appears.”

“I don’t...no,” you insisted as you grabbed a mug in each hand, “he’s not...I don’t know him.”

“Oh, but you will,” she winked before waving at a newly arrived customer and going to attend to them.

You bit your lip, letting out a long sigh before turning around to go back to him. You weren’t going to get lost in your little daydream fantasies...not yet at least.

“Here you are,” you set the coffee in front of him as you took the seat across from him, “I hope it’s okay.”

“Perfect,” he promised as he took a long sip. Grabbing a fork, he looked at the pie as you encouraged him to take a bite. He took a big forkful, giving it a thorough look over before putting it into his mouth. Almost fighting back a moan at how sinfully delicious the pie was, all he could do was nod before taking another heaping bit. You had been right, these apples made for some delicious, maybe the most delicious pie he had ever eaten, “holy shit.”

“Good, right?” your voice was singsong sweet as you took a bite from your own plate. His eyes were wide as all he could do was devour the remainder of his plate, “I’m telling you, it’s the apples, they make all the difference.”

“I can see why you were willing to break your neck for them,” he agreed. You’d converted another one, “I’m glad you didn’t though…”

“Me too,” you stared at your plate for a moment, “otherwise no one else would be able to make this delicious pie. Now tell me, mysterious FBI Agent, how did you find me?”

“It was simple,” he admitted, “all I did was look up the apples, and low and behold, an article about the woman that loves to use them for her renowned pies popped up. It just so happens that it was the same woman that fell into my arms when foraging for said apples. And she owns a café in the city where I work. I took it as a sign.”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you listened to him. You should have realized it would really be simple for anyone to find you, but the fact that it was him just sent a spark through your veins. He had chosen to go through all of this trouble for you, “ahh, well, I should have realized it would be easy to find me. Either way, thank you for going through all of this trouble to bring back my scarf.”

“Any time,” he promised like it had been no big deal in the slightest. To him it wasn’t, not for you anyway. That much he already decided. He said your name softly and you wanted to melt then and there. That voice. That honeyed, sofy baritone already did a number on you, “I was wondering-”

“Hold on,” you licked some of the pie filing off of your fork as you waggled it at him, “you know my name now, but I still don’t know yours. Although if I remember correctly, that annoying man that called you away kept calling you Pike.”

“Marcus Pike,” he confirmed, holding his hand across the table for you to shake. You eagerly took it, trying not to marvel at how large and soft his was, “or Agent Pike. But you can call me Marcus.”

“Marcus,” you repeated his name, deciding you liked how it sounded, especially coming from him, “I like it. It suits you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “umm, I’m sorry, I interrupted you earlier, what were you going to ask?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to-”

“Boss!” Sabrina had the most impeccable timing as she poked her head back out from the kitchen, “I need your help. I’m having trouble with the oven…”

“Can it wait a few moments? I’m sure it’s-”

“Fire,” she said meekly, “small fire, but fire…”

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath as you jumped to your feet, instructing her to get the fire extinguisher, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. It was nice to see you, Marcus. Thank you...for everything. I really appreciate it. You can just leave your plate and mug, I’ll grab them later.”

“No problem,” he said as he watched you all but run away, sighing lightly to himself. More perfect timing. He drummed his fingers along the table before stacking the plates and grabbing your mugs and taking them to the spot you had designated for dirty dishes, despite what you had told him. Before he walked out, he got a quick burst of genius as he quickly grabbed a napkin and the pen from his suit pocket, scribbling down his phone number. He leaned over the counter and tucked it near the register, hoping you would see it and know it was from him.

He hoped you would keep it and get back to him.

He hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Several weeks had passed since you had fallen for Marcus. Literally of course. The jury was still out on the metaphorical part. Okay...that was probably true too. He was living rent free in your mind, occupying many of your thoughts throughout the day.

You’d found his number and after finally convincing yourself to text him, you found yourself exchanging texts with him throughout the day. It was on and off of course, with you at the cafe and him at the FBI, but was nice. It always brought a smile to your face to see a text from him.

It had even led to him asking to take you out on a date, a proper date.

You said yes, naturally.

But that was almost three weeks ago, and the date had yet to happen.

The first time you got ready to go out with Marcus, he canceled at the last moment. You were already all dressed and ready, makeup and hair done when you'd gotten the hectic call. It was work, naturally, and you couldn't blame the FBI agent. He sounded genuinely upset to cancel, but promised he'd make it up to you soon. At least you'd gotten some decent selfies out of night, even if you ended up eating Chinese takeout and watching Netflix.

The second time, you had to cancel on Marcus. It was the morning of your redo date night, and you had found at the last moment that a well known food journalist wanted to interview you. You were reluctant to go and cancel again, but Marcus had been more than encouraging. So you went and Marcus ordered a pizza and binge watched some cooking shows on TV.

The third time it was a mutual cancelation. Marcus' parents came to surprise with a visit and you ended up with a stomach bug. Both of you were reluctant to cancel, and swore the next time it would work out.

It had to, right? Surely things would happen this time.

But no.

The fourth time around, you were both thoroughly determined to make things work. It was going to work out this time. It had to.

But once again, fate had different plans.

You and Marcus had made all of your plans, and you'd decided to leave work early to go home and get ready for your date, and were ready to finally spend time with him. But it turns out the restaurant you'd selected was booked for the evening and your reservation had been given away. Marcus had a last minute briefing for a big case he was working. Once again, the universe had decided it was not meant to be.

Maybe...maybe it wasn't meant to be at all.

"Why do you look so upset?" Sabrina asked as the two of you set up some Christmas decorations around the shop, "you look like you're going to burst into tears any second."

"I'm just..." you were cut off by the sound of the bell, signaling a new customer. You quickly told her you would handle it as you walked up the counter. But your dismay quickly turned into hope and butterflies when you saw that it was none other than Marcus, "hi."

"Hi," you'd already forgotten just how much you adored that soft, gentle smile.

"What...are you doing here?"

"Well, my meeting ended early," he explained, "and I figured that even though our reservations were canceled, we could still have our date...finally."

"Really?" you tried to contain the pure delight that was flowing through veins as he slowly nodded, "I'd love to but-"

"We can handle things from here, boss!"

"I'd love to," you beamed at him, "I'm just...little underdressed."

"I know its nothing fancy," he started as you pulled off your apron and tossed behind the counter, "but I was thinking you could come over to mine? I don't want to brag but I'm a pretty good cook, and I've got some new wine I've been meaning to try. I hope this isn't too forward, I just thought a quiet evening in would be nice."

"I'd love to," you agreed eagerly. Sure, you'd only talked to him mostly through text or on the phone at this point, but you already liked him a lot - trusted him, "it will be nice to finally have our date. I was starting to feel like the universe might be against us."

"Everything happens as it should and when it should," he promised as you grabbed your purse, "and by the way, I think you look beautiful."

You didn't even bother to try and hide your smile at that point.

As it turned out, Marcus was an excellent cook, and the wine was indeed delicious.

You spent the night at his, despite your original intentions, but one thing led to another and soon enough you were in his bed, unsure where you ended and he began.

It was the first of my many such nights.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Falling in love with Marcus was easy. You didn't even have to think about it. It started out as a slow, gradual thing which soon blossomed into something you had never experienced before. At first it was scary, but like with everything else, Marcus made it wonderful.

At first it was things like good morning and good night texts. Then it was him randomly popping in to see you during his lunch breaks or you stopping into his office when you had some downtime.

Then it was the random evenings spent together - he stopped by your apartment with your favorite take out if he knew you'd had a rough day. You'd let yourself into his if you knew he was working late and make dinner and dessert.

It was the late nights spent watching silly movies or having a catch up on your favorite shows. It was lazy Sunday mornings spent in the kitchen the two of you cooking and dancing to slow music that was on in the background. It was Saturdays spent exploring new places and cities, or spending the day in bed, tangled up in each other.

It was the way he seemed to say I love you in a million different ways, without even saying the words. But he spoke them all the time as well, and you never once doubted their truthfulness.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Soon the fall turned to winter which turned to spring. In the spring was when he asked you a huge question.

"Move in with me?" it was so soft, so gentle, and completely out of the blue. You were laying in bed on a Sunday morning, the sun streaming in through the large, open window, along with the cool, crisp air. Marcus had his coffee on the nightstand as he read the morning paper and you were laying on his chest, watching the morning news. It was the perfect slow, lazy morning.

"What?" you asked as you turned your face to look up at him, a confused expression on your face. Surely you hadn't heard him correctly...

"I asked if you'd move in with me," he repeated casually, flipping to the next page of the paper. He was putting on a cool façade, but the corners of his mouth were tugging into a nervous little smile.

"Do you mean it?" you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the soft, golden skin of his bare chest. He peeked over the paper and slowly nodded before you snatched it gently out of his hands and tossed it to the side, "really?"

"Of course," he grinned, "we already send most nights together, and half of your stuff is already here...I just think it makes sense. But if you'd rather not, or wait, I understand too."

"No," you said firmly, swinging your legs over him so you were straddling his waist. You leaned down and kissed him softly, his lips melding against your own, "I want to, Marcus. Really."

"Not too soon?" he asked as he gently stroked your cheek.

"Perfect timing," you promised, "its like you always say, everything happens as it should and when it should."

And so within the month you were moved into his apartment, now yours as well.

It was easy to fall into a daily routine with him. And getting to fall asleep and wake up next to your lover every day? It always seemed too good to be true.

»»————-　♡　————-«

The apartment that became your home soon turned into a small, quaint house that the two of you got together. Although the apartment had become yours just as much as his, this was the next chapter of your lives, which you were fully ready to embrace.

It had been two falls ago that you'd met Marcus, and while it had been your favorite season before, it most definitely was now.

You didn't know what you did to deserve Marcus, but you were so glad you did. Waiting for him had been entirely worth it.

"Catch up babe," you called to Marcus as he trailed behind you, a metal ladder tucked under his arm. Ever since your encounter with the rickety wooden ladder that you had falling into his arms and life, he'd insisted on a sturdy metal one.

"I'm coming," he promised, a smile on his face, his cheeks tinged pink from the cool breeze, "besides, I'm enjoying the view!"

"Cheeky," you slowed and waited for him to catch up, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he did so, "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too," he said softly as he leaned the ladder against the base of your favorite tree. The very tree you'd fallen from during your first meeting, "let me go and check the apples. They look promising this year."

"They'll make the best pies ever," you agreed as he slowly climbed up and took the buckets from you.

"May this year you'll teach me the secret recipe," he said as he disappeared into some of the leaves.

"Nope," you teased gently, "it's Nana's secret. Only family can know it."

"We're practically family," he laughed as he poked his head down to peer at you.

"That may be so, my love," you agreed, "but you have to make an honest woman out of me first. Nana's rules."

"Oh, I will," he promised as your cheeks flushed with warmth. You had meant it mostly as a joke, but there was something about the tone in his voice that suggested he wasn't, "I'm going to marry you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," he insisted as he gently climbed down the ladder, landing on his feet with a small plop, "I am going to marry the hell out of you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Agent Pike," you teased as you traded places with him and got ready to climb the ladder to start picking your prized apples. He stopped you for a moment, his hand on your neck as he pulled you in for a passionate, but gentle kiss. It was the kind that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs and thoughts from your mind, even after two years. You hoped it always would. You were sure it always would.

"I would never do such a thing, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, "now go and pick your apples. I'll be here to catch you if you fall. Always."

"My hero," you grinned before starting your ascent, already keeping an eye open for the best apples of all.

As you searched, you noticed that Marcus seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. You decided not to worry about it, attributing it to tiredness and a late night...but if it continued on, you'd ask soon.

"Anything good?"

"Hmmm..." your brows were furrowed in concentration as you reached for a few partially obscured apples. But instead of the soft roundness you were used to, felt something square and almost velvety. A small sound of triumph escaped your lips as you grabbed it...but then you slowly lost your balance and felt yourself slipping from the ladder.

"Sweetheart!" just like he had before, Marcus gently caught you in his arms. You looked at him with a sheepish grin as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "are you okay?"

"Right as rain," you beamed, "I guess some things never change, huh?"

"I'll take a lifetime of catching you," he said softly, "what happened?"

"I felt something," you said triumphantly as you displayed the little square box. As you studied it, you quickly realized it was...a jewelry box, "what is...how did this..."

"Open it," Marcus insisted as he slowly set you back onto the ground. You looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded. You popped the box open slowly, your breath taken away almost instantly.

Nestled safely into a soft, black velvet cushion was a beautiful diamond ring. It was simple, almost understated but elegant, nothing too large and garish. It was your favorite cut and color, both of which you'd only mentioned to Marcus in passing. You never thought he'd remember...or were you expecting this.

"Marcus," you were struggling to hold back your tears as you looked between him and the ring, "this is...are you..."

"Sweetheart," he delicately took the box from your hands, and pulled the ring out as he got down on one knee. This was happening. This was actually happening. He let out a shaky breath as he reached for your hand, "I love you more than words can describe. You have made me so, so happy. The past two years with you have been the best, and I hope we have so many more of them. I'm glad you fell into my arms then and today. I will always be there to make sure you're safe. So, in order to learn your Nana's secret recipe and to make you an honest woman and me the happiest man, will you marry me?"

"Yes," it came out without hesitation, without a second thought or single reservation, "yes, I'll marry you. I love you so much, Marcus."

"Really?" he had been so sure that you wouldn't say no, but the fact that you had said yes relieved all of the remaining fears he had. You nodded fervently as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He quickly slipped the ring onto your finger before reaching up and wiping the tears away.

"Of course," you promised as you grabbed his face and kissed him, "I love you so much, Marcus. Everything - you are everything."

"I think that's you, sweetheart," he wrapped his arms around and held you tightly against him, "thank you."

"For what?" you laughed lightly, "you're always saving me!"

"You've helped me in so many ways," he promised, "I never thought...I never tonight I could love like this again. More than I ever have..."

"Me too," you promised, "I felt like I was gonna have to wait forever...waiting for you. That's what it really was. It was worth it. You were worth it. It's like you always say, everything happens how it's supposed to, when its supposed to."

"Exactly," he whispered softly, "I am so in love with you."

"And I you," you kissed him again, lingering against his lips as you took in all of him, "now - help me pick these apples or we won't be able to bake pies."

"We?"

"I guess you can know the recipe now," you grinned, "we're family. We've been family already."

"But not married yet," he said as he held the ladder for you.

"Close enough," you grinned, "I love you, Marcus."

"I love you, sweetheart."

»»————-　♡　————-«

“So when are you going to give us grandchildren?” as soon as the words hit you, you almost dropped the fork that was halfway to your mouth. Your face instantly warmed up as you turned to Marcus, ready to profusely apologize to him for your mother’s ever so straightforward nature. There was a tinge of pink in his cheeks as he gave you a little smile, “you’ll have such beautiful babies!”

“Mom,” you turned to her with wide eyes as Marcus put his hand on your thigh, tracing gentle, soothing circles onto the material of jeans, “we’ve only been married a few months. There’s no rush and it’s none of your business when and if we do.”

“I’m just saying, honey-”

“Mom,” you groaned and silently pleaded for her to stop. For once in her life she appeared to understand what you were saying, “please.”

“You’re right,” she calmed herself down as she grabbed a glass of wine and quickly finished it, “it’s entirely your decision, when and if. Either way...I’m happy for you, both of you. You truly deserve it. I know it took a long time, but I’m so glad you found your sweet Marcus.”

“Me too,” you agreed, calming down ever so slightly, “he was worth the wait.”

“I had you falling for me from the start,” he teased as he looked at you with the sweetest eyes, and the silliest of grins.

“You’re the worst,” you proclaimed, unable to contain your own laughter, “but I’m glad for that rickety ladder, and the almost lost scarf. Look at what it got me - the best part of my life.”

“I love you,” he whispered as everyone around the table awed at the two of you.

“I love you too,” you replied softly as you turned back to your plate, “now let’s get onto something else. Who all is going to come and pick apples with me for the shop this weekend?”

»»————-　♡　————-«

“I’m sorry about all that,” you sighed, shaking your head at your mother’s antics as you walked hand in hand with Marcus to your favorite little dessert spot. It was late, but not too late, so you’d both decided that a little sweet treat was necessary. And you had something else on your mind that you wanted to tell him as well, and figured it was best to do so when it was just the two of you, “she’s a little much...a lot much.”

“Don’t worry,” he gave your hand a spot squeeze, “you know my mother is just as bad.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t do it in front of half the family and basically ask when we’re going to have planned sex!”

“So we shouldn’t tell her we have sex all the time?” he gently nudged your side as a smile worked its way back onto your face. That was definitely not a lie...like everything between the two of you, the sex was good, very good, and plentiful.

“I’d rather not,” you chuckled, suddenly feeling nervous about sharing your news with him. Naturally the two of you had discussed the possibility of children, and it was something that the two of you both wanted, but were not in a hurry necessarily to get into. You weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren’t not trying to get pregnant. It would happen when it happened, the two of you had decided, and even the doctor had told you that it would sometimes take a while for it to happen, especially after coming off of birth control.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked after a few moments of silence. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you’d noticed that he’d been talking this whole, until there was nothing but silence on your end, “you’re thinking much too loudly.”

“I was just…” you tugged on his hand and he stopped, giving you a concerned expression. It wasn’t like you to just fall into silence and shyness. Marcus gave you that soft smile you were a sucker for before reaching you and gently touching your cheek, “you know I love you, right?”

“Of course,” he said fondly, “and I love you, sweetheart. I thought that was kind of obvious at this point, but if I need to keep reminding you, I have no problem with that. I will do all day, every day.”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out before you could chicken out and wait for a different time. You wanted to tell him, to share your nervous excitement with him, “I...surprise.”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, a million different expressions crossing his features as you nodded, trying to decipher his reaction. Gods, you hoped he wouldn’t be upset, or think it was too soon. While it was true you’d only been Mr. and Mrs. Pike for a few months, you’d been together for several years now. Surely, this wouldn’t be upsetting...but in the moment you were questioning everything, and suddenly felt sick to your stomach, “pregnant.”

“Yes,” you breathed out anxiously, “I found out a few days ago. I just...I was trying to find the right time to tell you. And then my mom...of course she’d ask now, and it just…everything feels so overwhelming and I’m so nervous and scared and I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want you to be mad or upset…”

“Mad?” he asked incredulously as he took your face in his hands, “I could never, ever be mad at you. Especially not with something like this.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No,” he promised, “I’m happy...so happy. This is wonderful news - the only other day that could compare was the day we met and you fell into my arms...or the day you said yes to marrying me...or our wedding. But this? This is amazing.”

“I just...I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” you admitted, “I just got off birth control and they told me it could take a while, and I thought we’d be fine with waiting, you know? Like it would happen when it would happen. And then boom - pregnant.”

“Everything happens just as it should,” he promised, closing the minuscule gap between your faces and pressing his lips gently to yours, “I love you, so much. Nothing is ever going to change that. Now it’s you, and our baby.”

He slowly slid his hand down to your waist and then over your still nonexistent belly, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. You leaned into his touch, burying your face into his chest, “I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re excited, I am too. Nervous but excited.”

“And we’ll figure this all out together,” he promised, “you know I’m with you, every step of the way.”

“I’m so...I’m so lucky you’re in my life, Marcus,” you said softly, “you came along right when I needed you, when it was supposed to happen.”

“Like I always say, things happen as they should,” he wrapped his arms around you before kissing the crown of your head, “you have made me happier than I could have ever imagined. Just out of curiosity, how far along are you?”

“Almost nine weeks,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning at him. You could see him doing some quick math in his head, “yeah, I will admit I wasn’t the fastest on the uptake on that one.”

“Nine weeks,” he repeated, “so you got pregnant like right after you got off birth control.”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “it didn’t take much at all. Guess that means we got lucky...or something. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a whole little gang of baby Pikes.”

“I’m not opposed to that idea,” his eyes practically lit up at the idea. You didn’t care if you ended up with one or more, as long as they were happy and healthy. But you wouldn’t complain about more either, especially if they took after Marcus. Marcus, the kind hearted, handsome love of your life. You kissed him softly, wishing this moment never had to end, “but we’ll take it as it comes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we can do it all together.”

“We’re a team,” he promised, “now, are you the two of you ready for some ice cream?”

“Sounds perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the mentalist #SO MUCH FLUFF

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personasintro · 4 years

Text

one day | ksj drabble

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; you and your boyfriend are spending your holiday in malta, but you've no idea that during your stay he realizes something very important – until he tells you and you couldn't be happier

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff, smut, established relationship

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: fingering, unprotected sex, strong language, teasing, dom!seokjin but he's kinda sub when oc teases him, oral sex [male receiving]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4.7k

a/n: commissioned by @moonerva who's been incredibly patient with me, so thank you luv again!! also, this drabble is a part of the one I've written before, but can be read alone! (you can read it here!)

𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | ☕️

Warm air spreads across your cheeks while you walk through the night streets in Malta. Hands locked with your boyfriend, you admire the architecture and just enjoy your time spent together. It's a nice change from your daily lives, although you love what the two of you have back home.

Moving together proved to be the best decision you – as a couple – have made. Your first shared apartment isn't huge, definitely not the right home for the rest of your lives, but it's home for now. Surprisingly, Seokjin is very neat with his stuff, making sure there's no mess that you could possibly complain about. And no matter how many times his firm, but incredibly nice mother had told you, it's pain in the ass to live with him, you know you've made the right decision. Obviously, she was teasing most of the time, making sure Jin hears her whenever she talks behind his back.

“Mooom, stop. Do you want her to break up with me?” You remember him whining from the kitchen, preparing the dinner for the two most amazing women in his life.

Mrs. Kim just waved him off with a laugh, telling him you're not going anywhere.

And she was right. You're not and you're still very in love with her son. There's nothing that could change that, not even him acting like a child throwing a tantrum whenever he plays one of the games on a computer, getting angry over him loosing. Just the single memory is enough to make you smile, glancing at your boyfriend who looks at the baroque church you're passing by.

“You want to take a picture here?” he asks, pulling out his phone to take another set of pictures of none other, than you.

He already has hundreds of your photos, posing in front of monuments or just you completely oblivious that he's taking a picture. He loves those photos, they catch your natural beauty – and he loves whenever you catch him in the act, scolding him for doing that in the first place.

The same thing happened just an hour ago, when you were sitting in one of the local restaurants. You were enjoying your dessert when from the corner of your eyes, you could see your boyfriend stealing a few snaps of you. He cackled when the cream dripped down your chin, but he didn't stop and still teased you by taking pictures. It was funny, the locals and tourists nearby probably thought the two of you are crazy.

“We took so many already,” you laugh, admiring the building nevertheless. “Look! There's a fountain!” you exclaim, pointing ahead of you while you rush there, leaving your boyfriend standing in the middle of street with dumbfounded look.

He chuckles, thanking for your red dress that makes it easier to find you. They're just basic summer dress, with flowery pattern but it's you that make them gorgeous. You're gorgeous. Quickly following you, the last thing he needs is to loose you, he rushes towards you. He doesn't see you for a moment, his heart picking up the pace when all he sees are tourists and locals filling the street. He can't begin to imagine that something might happen to you. His eyes dance across the street, panic raising within his entire body and he's ready to yell your name, not caring he's in the middle of street full of people. Luckily, when a group of tourists leave, his eyes find you immediately. You're sitting on the edge of the fountain, fingers dipping in the clear and turquoise water. A breath of relief leaves his mouth and he allows himself to relax, although he fully relaxes as soon as he's by your side. He grabs your shoulder, sighing once again as he closes his eyes.

“You scared me,” he tells you, “I couldn't see you.”

And you want to tease him, turning around to take a glance at him but the grin disappears as soon as you see his face. He looks so scared and when he sits beside you, you notice his shaky hands that you quickly grab.

“I'm sorry, I thought you're right behind me.” you apologize, bringing his hand to your mouth as you give them a kiss.

“It's okay.” he smiles, knowing deep down he just panicked a little bit too much.

He lost you out of sight for a whole minute, and you're not a little child that needs his protection. But he can't imagine something bad could happen to you, just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. You're everything to him. He wants to be there for you, anytime you need him. He wants to protect you, cherish and love you for the rest of his life. He can't imagine feeling about someone like he does about you. Sure, he had couple of girlfriends but they were never that serious and then you came. When he least expected it, you came into his life and brought light into it.

When you look at him through your thick lashes, the little and decent make-up that makes you look much more youthful and natural, his heart blooms with even more love.

“No, it was stupid of me to do that. We're in a foreign country full of strangers. I'm sorry.” you insist, shaking your head to prove your point as he smiles at you.

He reaches towards your face, grabbing your cheeks as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Opening his mouth, he's about to say those three words that you love to hear, and always bring the brightest smile onto your face full of love and adoration. However, he's interrupted by the round of applause coming nearby that steals both of your attentions.

There is a woman, her hands covering her mouth as she's crying while the man is on her knee, holding a shiny ring. She nods, yelling a confident 'yes' before she pulls him off the ground and hugs him. Everyone starts cheering and even you, in the distance, can't resist and start to applaud for them. The bright smile that is caused by you being happy for some strangers decors your face and Seokjin joins you, applauding too. Although, his eyes are set on you.

“Oh my god, did you see that? That was so cute!” you beam, turning around to look at your boyfriend who acts like he hasn't been staring at you for awhile.

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah, it was lovely to be a part of such experience.” he admits, seeing you glancing at the couple that takes a few pictures with the woman's new ring before they walk away.

“Woah, that was so romantic.”

“Is that how you'd like our engagement to be?” he asks, head tilting in curiosity while he watches you.

Your cheek flush as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don't know, I'd like anything to be honest. I'm not picky.”

“Well, you can be more detailed. You know, for the future.” he wiggles his brows, causing you to laugh at him before it dies down and you stare at him.

“Are you planning to propose, Kim Seokjin?” you tease, eyes sparkling with amusement and adoration.

To be honest, the thought about marriage crossed your mind a few times. It's something you both want and talked about at the beginning of your relationship. But now that you've took another step in your relationship, that being you two living together, a marriage is the next big step. Although, it doesn't have to be so soon and the last thing you want, is for Seokjin to feel pressured. Whenever is the time right, you know it'll be amazing and one of the most special memories.

“No,” he deadpans, eyeing widening when he sees the horrific look on your face. “I mean--not now!” he quickly explains himself, causing you to giggle over his stressed expression.

“I was just joking, Jin,” you giggle, standing up. Dipping your fingers into the water, you lightly splash his face to get him out of his zoned state. “Now come on, I believe you promised me something after we get back to the hotel.” you smirk, remembering his promise.

His eyes darken as he stands up abruptly, clutching your hand in his as he leads you back to the hotel. You can't help but giggle at his determination, teasing him about it, considering he had you this morning and the night before. He laughs with you, but stays silent.

Little do you know that his mind is filled with other scenarios, not of him making love to you, but him bending a knee with a shiny ring in his hands, asking you the most important question that would change your lives.

What would you like?

Would you want it to be in a public?

Or would you prefer it to happen privately?

Would you even say yes?

Are you ready for marriage?

Even he knows that it might be too soon, but it's not too soon to be thinking about it and start planning it. He decided long time ago that you're the only one for him, he doesn't want anyone else. You'll be the mother of his kids, you're going to carry his surname and make him proud. Fuck, the thought makes him happy and he can't wait for it to happen. But you're both too young, and although you love each other deeply, you're taking it slow and naturally. There's no point in rushing, not when he knows you're the one and you feel the same way.

The hotel room that you've booked for a week looks messy. The sheets on your bed are completely rumpled, there are Seokjin's and your dirty clothes all over the floor. Despite of you being a neat person, and so is Jin, but you left your room like this, not bothering to clean up a little bit. The two of you were too excited to look around, knowing you'll spend your whole day outside anyway. The only time you spend there is when you're sleeping or your boyfriend is pounding you into the already messy mattress. God, you hope there are no traces of your morning and night adventures.

It's more about your dignity than anything else, when you're about to do the same thing like every evening. However, this time you don't let your boyfriend leading you towards the bed and having that power over you.

“Oh come on, princess.” he scoffs lightly, once you push his shoulders and make him sit down. He plops onto the soft mattress with ease, looking up at you with a mere shocked gaze.

Caressing his broad shoulders, you take your time to feel him through the fabric. Jin's shocked expression doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you ignore it and let him stare at you with a hidden interest. He's usually the one who takes the first step, guides you while you're in the position of enjoying his touch and let him do the whole work. It sounds selfish, but it's really not. One of Jin's pleasures is to see you enjoying yourself with his touch. He loves the fact that he's the one who makes you squirm, moan and whine for him.

He spreads his legs, allowing you to stand between them as his hands are automatically grabbing your hips. He almost groans at the thinness of your dress, silently admiring how it fits you and your figure, even though they're completely loose and don't show your true curves, you're still breathtaking. Even the slightest tan you've managed to get in three days of your stay. He lets his eyes wander around your little details, like the diamond necklace you've been wearing ever since he gave it to you on your first anniversary. It's a simple necklace, a little heart sparkled with tiny diamonds. The other necklace – the shorter one – has a little 'S' on it. It symbolizes him and his name. You bought it for yourself, wanting to have him close to you even if he's not by your side. He didn't buy it, he's not so narcissistic. It's cheesy and so cringe, according to your own words, but it settles a calm feeling whenever you're stressed and Jin isn't there. You've never felt so attached to anyone, and it scares you. Just he thought of him not being in your life freaks you out. You wouldn't be able to live through your break-up, if that ever happens. Fuck, you hope not.

Jin remembers the exact moment when he saw the necklace around your neck. He was surprised, but couldn't help that stupid and wide grin from appearing on his face. When you told him why you bought it and even laugh it off, he just couldn't stop staring at you before he showered you with hundreds of kisses.

“What do you want, Jin?” you ask slowly, hands still caressing those wide shoulders while he scoffs again.

“Is that even a question?” he asks, causing you to raise a brow at him. He sighs, but still answers. “You, obviously.”

“You had me. This morning and yesterday, actually. And the days before too.” you point out, not looking into his eyes but you know they're solely set upon you.

He's probably frowning, wondering where the hell is this going to? He doesn't like that, he wants to rip those dress off you. “What are you doing, princess?” he asks cautiously, voice low and raspy.

“What do you think I'm doing?” you ask, feigning an innocence while you bat your eyelashes knowing it'll drive him insane.

It does, his eyes darken and he clenches his jaw. Giving him a little smirk, you drop onto your knees knowing he'll be distracted from what he was about to say. And you're right, he shuts his mouth and stares at you through hooded eyes, while your palms spread over his knees. You give them a few strokes, staring at him while acting all innocent when deep inside, you're smirking and laughing devilishly.

“Princess,” he says, and it sounds like a whine but he controls his voice and gulps instead. “Touch me.”

Well, you're surprised by how quick it took for him to say it out loud. Jin never faked or held back his need for you, but you still thought the male pride would stand in the way.

And how could you resist those soft but dark brown orbs full of want and love?

Unzipping his pants, he helps you to take them off, not fully though. They pool at his ankles, along with his black boxers. His hardening length almost slaps you and you flinch back, not expecting him to take his boxers too. Raising a scandalous brow at him, he gives you an innocent shrug and smile which makes you giggle. Taking his length into your hands, you squeeze the soft and velvety skin, admiring that part of him. Well, it's not like you see it for the time but it's still worth the attention.

And from the corner of your eyes, you notice him smirking cockily at the salivating look you give him. Spitting into your hand, he curses at the sight before you start stroking him. His hips jerk and with a head thrown back, you're the one who smirks this time. He groans, wanting you to fasten up your pace but you don't. He must be thinking you're not getting the message, and that's why he looks at you and is met with your little smirk.

“Faster, princess. C'mon.” he says, jerking his hips again to prove his point but you just shrug.

“Why? I like it this way.” you tell him innocently, almost bursting in laughter at the sight of his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.

“Y/N,” he warns you, his breath hitching when your thumb brushes against the mushroom head. He realizes him being sassy won't get him anywhere, and you'll just tease him even more. He sees the darkened and amused glint in your orbs, and although it's something fresh and he hasn't seen it for a long time, he knows you're in one of those moods. “Please, princess.” he whines and he gets the reaction he wanted.

You listen, obviously happy with his reaction as you quicken up your pace. Your saliva is used as a lube, making it easier to pump him. He moans when you set up a stable pace, jerking him off while he gets fully hard.

“Put it in your mouth now,” he breathes out, “Please.” he adds, causing you to chuckle.

For a moment, he's scared you'll make him beg for it, although you've never been that type. God knows what's going on inside your pretty head, he thinks.

Scooting closer to between his hands, you kiss the tip of his length making him groan. Your soft and plush lips have that kind of effect on him, even though he's the one with a perfect set of lips that any woman could ever dream of. Sucking at the tip, he almost goes feral when you take him into your mouth. Going further, you let his cock go deeper while you take all of him. It's not easy and you almost choke around him, but holding your breath helps a lot and just the thought of how you make him feel is enough to continue. You drool all over his hard length, getting his balls soaked with your saliva as you hold yourself there. He moans, not having the heart to jerk his hips upwards even though that's exactly what the horny side of him tells him to do. He can't, and holds himself back as much as he can before you move up. You let his cock head stay inside your mouth, breathing through you nose before you take him again. This time, you start blowing him while humming around his throbbing cock. Your heart signs with pride when an evident groan slips out of his mouth and gets longer with each move you make. He pets your hair, groaning louder when you lick the underside of his cock.

“Oh, fuck. Princess,” he whines, hips jerking when you suck on the head again and hum in response.

Jin's mind is filled with the need to get a release, not thinking that there's a whole night ahead of you and if he cums now, it'll take time to get himself hard again. He could take that time to truly take care of you, to taste you and he knows your little moans would be all he needed to get his cock hard again.

But none of this is on his mind, all he can do is grabbing you by your head while he clutches your beautiful sleek hair in his grasp. He's getting there, with each moan getting a bit louder, you know he's about to cum down your throat. And you'd like that, but you have other plans. Just as he's forcing your face down onto his cock, you pull away. He nearly screams, his release being snatched from him in seconds.

Cheeks red and chest heaving, he narrows his eyes in confusion. He watches you wiping your mouth, detaching that line of saliva that connected your mouth and his cock, before he opens his mouth.

“What the hell,” he murmurs, shoulders dropping in disappointment at your sudden decision. “Y/N.” he breathes out, not hiding the disappointment in his voice either.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” you hum, eyes averting between his hard cock and face.

He grunts, reaching towards you as he gets you onto your feet effortlessly. You squeak in surprise, but your stomach jumps with excitement, especially when you hear him growl.

“You know I don't like being teased,” he says through clenched teeth, making sure you stare deeply into his eyes. “Whatever this little stunt was, you're done.”

Your heat pulsates at his words, clenching around nothing. Thank God he can't see your clenched thighs together, even though something tells you he probably knows. He always said you're easy to read, that's how good he knows you. There's not a person who knows you like Jin. Not even your parents, family or friends.

“But you like it, huh?” he chuckles lowly, tilting his head to the side. “You like when I get like this. When I talk to you like this.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you can't control the heat that spreads over your cheeks and all over your body that trembles with excitement in Jin's hands. He stands up, chest bumping against yours as he hovers over you. It's just for a second and it happens fast before you're sent to bed. Back bumping against the mattress, you stare at your boyfriend that has the same lustful look, like he hasn't had you every day. He can't get enough of you.

Eyes trailing down, he notices your dress being hiked up and exposing your thighs. “Take off your dress.” he barks an order, yet his voice stays light but authoritative at the same time.

Slowly sitting up, your eyes don't leave his face and you make sure it stays that way for the whole time you're slowly taking them off. Purposely, your movements are slow and you really take the time to get the soft and red fabric off your body.

“Don't test me, princess.” he warns you, narrowing those brown eyes at you in silent warning.”Underwear too.” he adds, mouth salivating at the sight of a similar shade of red bra and matching lacy panties.

And you do listen, trying to appear calm and slow when your heart keeps hammering inside your chest like it's about to jump out. When you're fully exposed to his hungry eyes, he hums in approval before he stands up. You almost let out a whine, fearing he's going to be the one to tease you right now or worse, he'll leave you high and dry. But it all dies down when he fully takes off his jeans and boxers which stayed pooled around his ankles. His button up is going next, falling carelessly onto the floor before he stands in front of you in his natural naked state. Licking your lips, you let your eyes wander to his still hard cock, waiting for attention. The angry red color of his head almost matches to your underwear that's laying on the floor with Jin's clothes.

He hovers over you, connecting your mouths as he tastes himself on you. He groans, hand dipping between your legs. Jin's thumb gently rubs your clit, humming again at the feeling of your wetness that spreads all over his fingers.

“Hm, maybe I should just stick my cock inside of you for all that teasing,” he tells you lowly, but still lets his fingers slide into your cunt. You gasp at the sudden penetration, walls automatically clenching around his two fingers.

Too good. It's too good.

“For that all teasing from you, I just might.” he chuckles, enjoying your squirming and breathless form. You make him feel powerful, he loves that.

His hand goes down, stroking his cock while you spread your legs for him. He holds a question in his eyes, but your whining and spread legs that he knows so well, give him an answer. When Jin finally lines himself up and thrusts into you, you're left speechless and able to move, until he's fully inside of you. He kisses you, rough and fast, before he starts rocking his hips into yours. But even that doesn't last that long, until he quickens up his pace and starts to pounding you. You shouldn't be so surprised, after all that teasing, you had to see it coming.

His name echoes in the room, you voice is like a sweet melody to his ears, along your moans and gasps of air that you let out every time he hits your g-spot with his thick cock. He feels your cunt clenching in approaching orgasm, while his eyes stay fixed on yours. Jin's grunting, pounding into you in harsh and quick thrusts. Your eyes close, rolling back when you see yourself cumming.

“Open your eyes,” he demands, his hand wrapping around your neck when you listen to him and open your eyes. He squeezes your neck softly, your eyes betraying you again as they roll back, chasing that long-wanted orgasm.

“I love you.” he grunts, slowly squeezing your neck again while you finally let go. Your cunt throbs, clenching uncontrollably around Jin's cock while he still keeps fucking you.

He's chasing his own orgasm, following you two minutes after as he cums with a deep groan, spilling himself into you. His cock throbs, twitching while he's painting your inner walls white with his seed. He rolls his hips into yours a few times, repeating; “I love you, I love you, I love you.” all over again.

“I love you.” you tell him, once he finally stops and drops his body onto yours. He's still careful not to crush you to death, his hands holding himself slightly while his hand is no longer around your neck.

“I'll marry you one day. And you're gonna love it.” he says, voice muffled and breath hitting your shoulder as he keeps his head buried between your shoulder and the dirty sheets.

If they weren't coated with yours and Seokjin's fluids, you'd feel much more disgusted. Surprisingly, you don't mind it that much. Let's wait until the two of you go to sleep.

His words make you smile, your heart flattering at his honest and soft words.

“I know I'll. No matter what you'll do and how you'll do it, I know I'm gonna love it.” you smile, feeling him do the same against your skin.

He pecks your shoulder, slowly lifting himself up as he slips out of you. His cum is already dripping down your ass, staining the sheets even more but you don't move. All you can focus is Jin's eyes staring into yours, a hidden meaning inside of them but all you can see is love. A pure love that makes your heart ache happily. You've never felt this kind of love.

“That's my promise. One day, I'll marry you and make you officially mine.” he promises, causing you to giggle.

“I'm already yours, you dummie.”

He gasps, faking a petulance. “But you'll have my surname and I get to call you my wife. And then, I'll make you nice and pregnant with my babies.”

You're not going to lie, his words have a huge effect on you and you know he's talking about future, but you already can't wait for it when the time comes. You're both still young to that kind of commitment, and you'd like to wait a little longer. But whatever the future holds for the two of you, you'll welcome it as long as it's by Jin's side.

“Look at you, here talking about babies.” you giggle, caressing your hands over his chest.

“If they get to be beautiful and smart like you, I want the whole army of them.” he says, your laughter echoing around the walls that sounds so blissfully to him.

A natural and soft smile spreads on his lips as he kisses you. Your lips mold together, creating a perfect rhythm that makes butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

“One day, maybe not the whole army but...” you trail off, making him laugh as he leans his forehead against yours.

“One day.” he says, eyes glinting with happiness and love.

Your own eyes mimic his – what are you supposed to do other than to nod and agree with a huge smile.

“One day.”

#networkbangtan #bts smut #bts fluff #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #Kim Seokjin au #bts au #seokjin fanfic #seokjin drabble #seokjin scanerio #kpop au #bts fanfic #personasintro

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mockingjayne12 · 4 years

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Take Me Home - Chapter 3

(Jamie x Claire / Outlander Fic)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

CHAPTER THREE:

She can feel the spray of scalding hot drops hit her back, their rhythmic pounding against her flesh vibrate through her, seeping into her skin, the heat of water the only warmth she allows herself to feel. Her brown hair becomes blacker still, creating a shield, shrouding her in darkness.

“What are you, stalking me?” She hears herself say, the shock of seeing the red haired actor staring up at her with his impossibly blue eyes.

Her music softly plays through the trickling of water, the kind Gillian refers to as “doom and gloom” but whose words touch her in a way she doesn’t permit others to attempt, making her feel that maybe she’s not so alone. She pulls her knees closer to her body, collapsed into a ball.

He nearly chokes on his laughter, her face turning red with an almost blush at her assumption.

“I dinna think it’s stalking, as ye say, if I was asked,” he teases, that grin she can’t wipe from her eyes playing on his lips.

“Asked?” She balks, and he points at Gillian, who’s not so subtly eavesdropping from her table behind them.

“I’m going kill her,” Claire mutters under her breath.

As if noticing that she was letting on that he’d thrown her off, she straightens, her long neck peeking from its collar, the tips of her eyes covered by fringe, leaving a narrowing effect down upon this man. She can feel her heart beating loudly against her ears.

“What can I get for you?”

“I dinna ken, what’s good?” He asks with a raise of his brow, and a grin that she can’t quite tell if he’s trying to be cute or just oblivious to her mood.

Her hands drop by her side, her pad hitting her apron with an exasperated sigh.

“I do have other tables to get to…” And she swears his grin falters a bit before perking back up with a shake of his head, his curls floating across his eyes, like fire threatening to be extinguished by the blue sea it hovers over.

“Two coffees,” he says, and she balks again, the thought of someone joining him having never crossed her mind. And she silently kicks herself for believing this was anything other than a coincidence, him being here. He certainly didn’t show up for her. Of course not. And she quickly turns to escape before her glass face gives away that she ever thought differently.

Heading to the back, she glances at the mirror that hangs above the employee sink, and sees her hair sticking out in all directions, her fringe curling at the ends, and she quickly sweeps them to the side. The stain on her shirt has set, a ring of embarrassment displayed for all, tie crooked, and the black of smudged makeup creasing in the crinkles her eyes give way to when she smiles, which isn’t too often these days. Turning on the faucet, she cups the water between her palms before splashing the liquid against her face, the droplets momentarily waking her, before she attempts to wipe away the black evidence of sadness with her finger.

Sitting in the bed of her tub, the shower pours down on her, and she looks up into the water, never quite drowning her in its wake, instead trickling against her, escaping from her presence the way she wishes she could do to herself.

“Here you go,” she says, placing one coffee in front of him, and the other on the other end of the table, likely for some blonde he’ll have meeting him. “Would you like to wait until the rest of your party gets here…” but her question trails off, as she sees him laugh just a bit to himself. “Is there something funny?”

“No,” he quickly says. “I’ll wait,” his tongue comes to lick his lips, and she swears if she had still been holding the coffee mugs, she’d have spilled them right into his lap.

“Hmph,” she says with a flick of her head, and nearly running right into Gillian carrying a tray of drinks.

“Careful, Sassenach,” she hears over her shoulder, tempted to turn towards him with her tongue stuck out like a two year old, as she slinks off to her other tables.

Claire shakes her head, sending water hitting the curtain, her hair refusing to relent, clinging to her, like soot against snow, polluting her mind with conversations she knows she needs to rid herself free of.

She finds herself peeking over at his table as the rush begins. A flurry of people begging for her attention, demands that have her questioning if they were this picky in their every day life or just when it came to food. Every time she’d head over to refill his coffee, which was beginning to become impressive he could consume so much (the second cup still sat full) she’d be beckoned over to one of her more demanding tables, which was okay by her, it gave her an excuse to avoid James. But her eyes refused to get the memo, constantly travelling over, raking over his strong back, to the red curls that gathered on his neck, the glint from the sun coming in through the window he sat by, striking the scar that rested on his cheekbone, and not for the first time, she finds herself wondering what it would feel like to run her finger over the mar of imperfection.

The water puddles in the bend of her arm, caught between her connecting flesh, with one movement she lets it go, splashing into to where her feet rest, and her toes curl at the sudden deluge.

“Get back to work, Beauchamp,” her manager’s voice grating on her nerves, interrupting her daydream. Gillian always claimed he had a crush on her, but Claire mostly found the man to be harmless. As long as she kept her head down and showed up for her shifts, he wasn’t too hard on her. But when he’d lean against the counter just a little too close, she’d find an excuse to be busy.

“Going, Christie,” her emphasis on his surname not unnoticed. But the rush had died down at this point, only a few patrons remained, one being James.

Sidling up to his table, she almost feels badly for the man who’d clearly been stood up. Almost.

“Hot date didn’t show up?” She asks with a raised brow, her finger idly tracing her own mar of imperfection.

“Verdict’s still out,” he says with a shrug.

“Maybe next time,” she offers, and then scrunches her face at the idea of acting hopeful for his love life.

“We’ll see,” he says with a glint in his eye, and then she hears the giggles from a few tables back. Glancing over she sees two women having clearly spotted James.

“Never short on admirers, I see,” she says as he stands, and Claire nearly stumbles backwards to get out of his way, his hands shooting out to steady her, briefly, before quickly letting go, her mouth hanging open as he makes his way towards the door, a quick nod and smile sent towards the two women who’d sent him fleeing.

“Hey, you forgot to…” she’s about to say, when he turns, his hand running through his hair, and then he’s off. “…pay.” She huffs, moving to clear the mugs, when she finds a bill tucked underneath the second cup of coffee.

Momentarily breaking from her sitting position, she reaches for the drain, stopping the water’s escape, left with no choice but to gather around her.

“Bitch, what was that for?” Gillian screeches, Claire’s hand having slapped her shoulder.

“You told him to come here?” She practically growls, her anger having stewed enough to skip a meal on her break.

“Told who?” Gillian says, voice going high, acting innocent, twisting a piece of her own red hair between her fingers.

“Fuck off, you told him to come here as some sort of pity date,” she argues, flopping back in her chair out back, the sun beating down on her pale face.

“Honey, if you think that was a date…” Gillian starts, tilting her head in horror at the thought.

“You know what I mean,” Claire’s words tinged in defeat.

“I simply suggested that if he wanted to see you again, he should stop by…that’s all,” her shrug acting as if it really was nothing to get angry about.

“Yeah, well, he clearly felt sorry for me, as he left me this,” she yanks a hundred dollar bill from her apron. “Like he can just…buy me off like that. I swear, they’re all the same.”

“At least he didn’t try to shove it into your shirt,” her friend counters with a sheepish grin.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to bloody shove this up his arse if he shows up again,” taking the money and putting it into a separate pocket.

“I love it when you get all British on me,” Gillian teases, causing Claire to roll her eyes.

There’s a break in the music as the song changes, a soft instrumental piece begins to play, the keys of a piano almost twinkle her vision with its sound, causing a settling feeling to manifest in her stomach. It’s a nostalgic piece, one she can’t place, but that builds within her, until she’s breathing heavily. The water climbing up above her ankles, just deep enough that she can easily lay down now.

She’s not sure why she’s surprised then the next day, as she’s pulling her mess of curls into a top knot, when Gillian runs up behind her with a beaming smile on her face.

“He’s back,” she practically sings.

“You’re kidding,” Claire says with an annoyed tone, but she can’t help the way her heart begins to beat just a little faster, as she quickly looks down to see that at least today she’s managed not to spill anything on herself. Yet.

Marching out onto the floor, she quickly arrives at his table, the same one he’d been at yesterday, and she nearly does a double take, the glasses he’s wearing today somehow making him even cuter than usual, but she shakes her head, her indignation back within a second, and slams the hundred dollar bill down on the table.

“I’m not a charity case, James,” she sneers, and his shocked face looks up at her as if she’d slapped him.

“Never thought ye were, Sassenach,” he tries, but she’s not buying it.

“Who gives this much for two cups of coffee? Do you think I’m that desperate for money?”

“No, I—“

“Because I’m not,” she says with a crossing of her arms.

“Wait, why didn’t ye use it to pay for my coffee?”

Her face begins to heat, her arms awkwardly adjusting, as she looks anywhere but him.

“You saved it just to make a point…”

“Yeah, so…”

“Stubborn,” he laughs.

“Stop, it’s not funny.”

“It’s a wee bit funny,” he says, making his accent thicker to drive the point across.

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Fine, consider it a downpayment.”

“For what?” Her hands come to rest on her hips, her mouth pursing, and she can see he’s fighting back a comment.

“For all the coffee I’m going to order,” he says matter of factly, a curl slipping underneath his lenses, and she has to dig her nails into her palm not to reach out and move it out of his eyes.

“I’m never going to get rid of you, am I?” She sighs, her annoyance rising at the same rate as her hope. He was persistent, she’d give him that. But it was only a matter of time until he got bored of whatever game he was playing and left.

“Not so long as ye’ll have me,” and there’s no hint of a grin with this, and she feels a warmth spread over her.

“Yeah, well…” she fumbles for words. “I’m not allowed to kick people out so…”

“So…I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other,” he says, pulling out a book, the cover having been removed, so she can’t see what it is he’s reading.

“Great,” her sarcasm out in full force with an obviously fake smile. “I’ll go get your coffee.”

“Jamie,” he says, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“You called me James, but my friends and family call me, Jamie,” he explains, licking his lips.

“Well, I am neither, James.”

And she swears she hears him mutter something in Gaelic as she walks away.

The music makes its way further and further from her as the water rises up against her ears, every subtle movement sending a wave crashing against her, a euphoric sensation trickles through her as the spray of the water beats down, slowly taking over her body.

Their routine becomes the same, every day James shows up, is seated at the exact same table in her section all the way in the back of the restaurant, with the same book, the same order of coffee. Some days he’ll come in with his glasses already on, other days, he’ll pull out the case he has tucked in his pocket before diving into his book, always pausing whenever she approaches the table.

He attempts to engage her in conversation, but she knows how this goes, it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored and moves on. So she carefully avoids answering anything about herself, the walls around her built high and sturdy.

She lets her hands rest on the surface, a delicate balance between rising to the top and pressuring herself to the bottom. Her eyelashes feel heavy against her, wet and clumped, she teeters on the verge of being fully submerged and choosing to let her lips peek just above the surface.

“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” She’d asked one day, and he’d laughed, claiming his film was still in pre-production. And for as much as she acted annoyed at his appearance every day, she found it oddly comforting to have something to look forward to, although she’d never admit as much to herself. She found she didn’t dread coming into work as much, waking up before Adso clawed her, a “bounce in her step” as Gillian had noticed, only to be quickly denied by Claire. The banter between her and James had become one of few interactions she had throughout the week that wasn’t with either a pet or a coworker. He was careful not to cross the invisible line she’d set for them, but he’d notice when she came to work one day with her hair braided, rather than it’s usual top knot or the bandage on her finger (from her cat) to which he’d perked up at getting a piece of information about her, and ever since had made it a point to ask how the “wee cheetie” was doing. She wasn’t used to people being interested in her life, and most of the time she found herself holding her breath when he’d ask, like she was being backed into a corner with questions, her first inclination to lie or shoot back a sarcastic remark, feeling he was getting too close. But she couldn’t deny there was a thrill there.

Plunging her head down, she imagines the struggle, how easily she could let it all go, the tiny beads of water creating tiny bursts in her ears as they spray down on the full tub she’s created. Her eyes wide awake, refusing to close, her body tempted to buoyantly make its way to life, but her will demanding she weightily suspend herself between the choice to sink or swim just a moment longer.

“Well, don’t you smell nice today,” Gillian teases Claire as she rushes to clock in.

Pulling on a loose curl, her friend refuses to let up.

“So you two married yet or what?”

“He’s just a customer, G,” the blush crawling on up her face, reaching for the light sprinkling of freckles giving way to the feelings she refused to admit even to herself.

“Yeah, a customer that just happens to be rich, famous, hot as fuck, and did I say rich?”

Claire rolls her eyes reaching to tie her apron on.

“Like you said, I’m not his type,” she reiterates, tossing a look that begs for the subject to be dropped.

“Fine, fine,” she backs off, holding up her hands in surrender. “But if you don’t make a move soon, I will,” she winks.

Making her way out onto the floor, she looks to see if James has been seated, only to find his table empty.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she attempts to distract herself with her other tables, her eyes always wandering over to where she’d become accustomed to him being, nearly snapping when the hostess seats a group at the table that’s usually reserved for the bookish redhead. She can feel the hurt rising in her chest as the hours tick by and he never shows, and with it, comes the anger at having let her feelings reach a point where she’s actually upset at his absence. Her mind reeling at having thought, just for a second, that maybe he could like her. Maybe someone could actually care. But she’d been wrong. They were all the same.

By the time her shift ends, she’s near tears. Beating herself up with self-loathing foolishness that has her stripping off her clothes and crawling into the shower, flicking on her music, as she settles back to her old routine, washing away James Fraser from her life.

Bursting upright, she lets the water slide from her along with her anxiety, threatening to pour over the tub and flood her floor, and that first breath, the one she found she’d been holding longer than before she’d sunk underneath, feels all too familiar, the moment she has to accept that she’s still here. Not clean, not healed, but still here. Another day ahead of her.

A day that didn’t include James Fraser.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire

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imaginedcreaderinsert · 4 years

Note

Could you do one and fifty nine with Jason

Summary: Jason and Reader visit the Wayne Manor for the first time for a friendly lunch. A pity he doesn’t plan on keeping it PG-13 for long. [As stated by the ask, prompsts one and fifty nine with Jason! “What? Does that feel good?” + Public with Jason]

Word Count: 2531

TW: Cussing and smut, as the prompt implied. Enjoy!

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup

A/N: Angst coming in tonight! On may I’ll start a new rhythm, at least two pieces per week, but for now I can’t relax, I have uni work!!! I hope you enjoy, cuz I definitiely did.

In a twist — Jason Todd x Reader

Bruce was a reasonable man, and his points had been valid when he had sneaked up on you to have a “private talk”. You didn’t want to listen at first, given his relationship with Jason, but deep in your heart you knew it would do him well. Thus, a lunch didn’t seem like a big deal, until you had, of course, proposed so to Jason, which he had flipped about. He made his point clear and it took you some convincing, but you thought you had changed his mind after a long and torrid bath. In retrospective, you should have been sharper from the moment he had easily agreed after, as if someone had momentarily replaced him. But now there’s nothing you can do except press your knees harder.

You started to feel it in the car but thought nothing of it in the end. Twenty minutes ago, he had been going at it hard on your body back home, thus maybe you were still feeling the pleasure of the aftermath, sighing content into the kiss he left on your cheek. Sweet, innocent. He was being lenient, and you loved that. You loved him. After all, Jason wouldn’t be convinced by someone who was just a girlfriend; you were so much more than that, and he had made that clear lots of times in bed, when you both were alone on your own. He cared; he just didn’t want to show it to anyone who he just met. He was selective and picky about the people he put his trust on. You understood that and felt deeply honored because of it.

“I’m glad you agreed to it.”

“Well, your convincing gave me some thinking. I thought it would be fun.”

You kiss him, stupidly in love as you are when he looks at you like that. Jason Todd might be not as charming as certain people, but he has a certain something that makes him irresistible, so charming you would give in to anything he asks with that deep voice of his which he uses on missions. You always get so wet when he is commanding like that. The worst thing is he knows, which makes him cocky as hell. But you like him like that too, unfortunately. You smile into his second kiss as he car seems to stop at the entrance of the gates of Wayne Manor. It’s imposing, and TV does not make it justice; it’s in some way uncanny, as you’ve seen many reportages and interviews on the gates of the Manor, but no one’s been so close, has gotten past the doors. Not any mediocre Gothamite, at least. The Wayne Manor was quite famous because of its galas, but normal people like you didn’t have access to those. Not before you met Jason anyways.

Jason kept his surname, but you learnt quite quick he was, in civil records, Bruce’s son. Fortune did not attract you, as tempting as it might have been once; and you deeply admired how Jason had been trying to make it on his own. That’s kind of how you two met, and you wouldn’t have it any other way – people met at bars, but you got closer in a hostage situation where he had infiltrated the group as one of the day to day civilians who just had the bad luck of being stuck in said situation. It was no coincidence, and you helped him in his plan, being bold and a bit reckless, just like he was. People said opposites attracted each other, but that was not the case with you two. In some way, similarities tied you together. You understood things no one else seemed to, and you hugged him close the first night he decided to stay, as a friend. Then it all had been natural.

He helps you get out of the car, your knees slightly weak from the anxiety that is now suddenly spiking up and maybe from something else that you can’t quite pinpoint. But then the door is opening, and you are met by Alfred Pennyworth, one of the few figures apparently to Jason in the Manor. You greet each other, cordially; it’s weird, you think, being so close to the family and yet working for it, in theory. You don’t mind his inquisitive stare as Jason gets you in, taking you by your waist, hips together almost.

“I just want to say I completely understand if you want to break up with me after meeting my family.”

“I managed to survive our first night with your horrible snores. I think I can take it.” He chuckles, giving your waist a firm grip, as if suddenly validated in some way. What you two had was not a superficial or shallow thing. You trusted each other completely; he knew, or was starting to come into terms with, that if you hadn’t fled yet, there were not many possibilities of you doing so in the future.

Except of course, Dick fucking Grayson.

He comes down the stairs, casually almost, and marveling you. Jason notices how your eyes open up slightly, pupils dilatating – is it attraction? He was quite aware of Grayson’s charm, his natural charisma that seemed to outweigh his attractiveness, and that was quite difficult. He opens up his arms as he gets to the bottom and comes closer to Jason, of course, first. Jason can’t quite process what he’s saying, because his eyes are moving to Dick’s: and his pupils are dilated too as his eyes pose on (Y/N) for the very first time, fully. It’s like he drinks her in a gulp, and seems mesmerized, much to her embarrassment, which he covers up with a small chuckle, before offering up her hand.

“Uh, (Y/N) (L/N). A pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s mine”. He answers, naturally, a small “enchanting” (he would say flirty) quick wink before looking up Jason. “So this is it, huh? The one’s that’s been keeping you away from patrolling”

“He can make his own decisions.” She sharply answers before Jason can even open her mouth. That did not get in well with her, which Dick seems to realize – panic is all over his face, as Jason starts to laugh and shortly after is followed by her. “Shit, Jason was right, you really are a Labrador.”

There’s a second laugh and a scoff from two significantly younger “kids” as they go down the stairs. Dick chuckles, slightly embarrassed and shrugging. You recognize the smaller one, Damian, but you can’t quite make out the teenager one.

“That was a good one. Pleasure’s mine, (Y/N) (L/N). Tim Drake.” Direct, doesn’t beat around the bush. He might be your favorite one for now.

Presentations are made, and it’s only when Bruce himself appears that you start to feel it, taking air abruptly and gripping Jason’s arm tighter. A slight vibration on your crotch, soft and pleasuring enough to not be uncomfortable or unwelcomed. Perfect enough to build up something.

“Jason, what the fuck-“. You mumble almost in his ear, before walking up to Bruce, offering your hand first, letting him talk, and welcome you in officially. You feel Jason’s smirk even when you can’t full see it. It irks you. Fuck, he has plan.

You are guided in by Alfred to the dining area – classy, enormous, slightly warm because of the fire not very far from the table. Tim and Damian flock around you, asking you all type of various questions which seem to be “basic” ones – you try to keep concentrated even as Damian’s ones get harder and your mind flies somewhere else.

Bruce is presiding the table, at the top of it, and then at his right there’s Damian, and at his left Dick. You’re put up next to week, in front of Jason, Tim left at the other side of the table, contrary to Bruce. The sitting makes you nervous, even when you are close to possibly the smoothest talker in the house. When you sit down you expect to hear some noise, but it seems muffled by your thighs tightly pressed against each other and knees. You’ve been giving it some thought, and you are now quite sure that it’s in your underwear. It didn’t quite had been as light as always, and Jason had been quite insistent on your lingerie choice, bra and knickers matching. But he had always been fond of your underwear matching sets, so you had not thought much about it. “Fucking devil”.

“So, Gotham. Try to tell me about your life in a minute or so.”

You keep, or try to keep, all of your attention on him, looking directly at his direction and smiling, softly, when you notice Jason giving some curt answers to Bruce. That’s new. But when you think you have it all controlled, the vibrations go up a notch and you have to take in air harshly again. You explain it’s a cold, your breathing suffering at times because of it. Dick smiles sweetly, understandingly enough, and says he has an excellent home remedy he will pass you on lately. You thank him, turning to your first dish, a soup.

You fear you are going to leave a permanent mark on the Wayne Manor for the wrong reasons. It’s almost dessert time and you are slightly red, hiding as best as you can your pants with coughs and sneezes, but you are sure you’ve bended slightly the silver cutlery – the ministrations of your underwear are continuous now, pressing tightly against your crotch, and there’s an uncomfortable cold wet spot against your most sensitive part. You haven’t yet embarrassed yourself in a conversation with the Wayne’s, which seems an achievement by yourself, and you would dare say that Dick and you have the potential of harvesting a special friendship – of course, if Jealous Jason is not to get in between.

After lunch, Bruce says he’s going for a drink, some coffee, and invites Jason and you both to stay – but there’s no way you can go through it, and he seems to know as well as his hand trails around the curve of your ass, his hand almost trailing down to the hem of your dress and slowly getting his hand up-

“A pleasure, truly, we hope we can do this again! Bye everyone!”

That must have been incredibly rude, as you gripped Jason tightly enough and got him out of the Manor. You walked, still gripping his arm with more force than before and letting out the first pants in all evening.

“Are you fucking stupid in the head or-?”

“Hottest thing we’ve ever done. Don’t deny it. You know I hate it when you lie to yourself”.

For the ride back you are offered one of Bruce’s rides, someone else getting you home, but he seems as eager as you are, if the slight bulge in his pants is anything to go by… So Jason decide to steal one of Bruce’s car, a black modern one, which seems new if you are to guide yourself by the smell. You both laugh as teenagers as you get inside, quickly, and Jason rides away. Fucking God you want to ride him.

You don’t make it home. The Manor is near the outskirts of the city, meaning there’s no one generally on the road save the occasional interview and the crew following it. He is a private person, and no one has business with him if there hasn’t been a previous appointment made. Thus, horny and hot you both kind of decide to fuck in the middle of the woods.

“I don’t know if Bruce has cameras here or not but-“

“Shut up, we are not getting naked, so-“

“I love you so much”. He says, chuckling against your mouth as you get off your seat and climb onto the driver’s one, Jason’s lap, kissing him fiercely and passionately. There’s a certain desperation on it. “I wanted to know so badly how wet are you”

“Dripping. So take yours out and I’ll if it up enough.”

It’s quick, like teenagers fucking desperately in the middle of nowhere. Your hand goes into the glass of the window, trying to hold yourself up as his tip rubs on your entrance, slightly on your clit, making you press yourself tighter against him. He doesn’t play much as he gets in, your knees almost giving out and making you sit on his completely.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck”. You curse, against his ear, your thighs paralyzed by the feeling. Full, agonizingly full and wet.

“You are incredibly wet. You are going to get my pants ruined, baby.”

“Like you care”

“Like I care.” He laughs, conceding you the victory, as one of his fingers makes his way inside your dress to play with the little pearl inside, rubbing it teasingly and making your entire body boil.

“Slowly, baby. Or else I’ll come too quick.”

“Yeah, yeah”. He mutters, almost as if in trance as he continues playing, with a little more care.

It’s desperate. There’s a small buildup until you feel like nothing he will do will ever be good enough.

Then he starts ravishing you. His hands get on your back, almost as if trying to break your dress, the zipper; he grabs and slaps one of your buttocks, trying to leave a mark behind and succeeding in so with the thrusts he’s giving you which make you go wild. You mark him all over the naked skin you get – his neck, his shoulders; you open up his shirt and drag your nails in his chest as he gets deeper each time. Both of you have started to sweat, and you can feel it in your lips as he gets you closer and closer; he might be at its brink, you think, because he starts playing with your little pearl, giving it rubs and circles just as you’ve taught him multiple times. You beg him to stop, but he knows that’s not it – you always say no, but you mean yes, you’ve talked about boundaries, and he loves to open her up inside until she’s scratching and begging, too overwhelmed with his kisses and love ministrations. Because that’s what it is, what it has always been: making love.

Your orgasm hits you first, squeezing him impossibly so: he has to make his own way, with a little more of force, pushing you to the driving wheel almost, just so that he can give his finals pumps. He cums inside, filling you and making you screech, oversensitive. Your fingers search for his back, his neck, which always makes you feel safe and sound. He grabs you back, by your waist, his head on your chin, kissing your neck lovingly enough to make you melt.

“I hate your little games.”

“You love them. Next time, what about-“

“No!”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #reader insert #reader insert dcu #dcu x reader #dcu #dcu fanfic #DC Universe #jason todd dcu #jason todd smut #answered ask

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olivehq · 4 years

Text

☾⋆*― ⌜ 𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊 , 𝟸𝟷 , 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 , 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛 ⌟ ╱ that’s 𝙾𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚂 , they’re a 𝙹𝚄𝙽𝙸𝙾𝚁 from 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚁𝙺 𝙲𝙸𝚃𝚈 , 𝙽𝙴𝚆 𝚈𝙾𝚁𝙺. when they left high school they were voted most likely to 𝙰𝙽𝚂𝚆𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙿𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙰𝚃 𝟹𝙰𝙼 , what do you think? now they’re the 𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙸𝚁 𝚘𝚏 𝙺𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙰 𝙲𝙷𝙸 𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙶𝙰 and majoring in 𝙶𝚁𝙰𝙿𝙷𝙸𝙲 𝙳𝙴𝚂𝙸𝙶𝙽. their friends describe them as 𝙼𝙰𝙶𝙽𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙼𝙾𝚄𝚂 but also kinda 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚄𝚂 , but don’t tell them i told you that ! ⌈ 𝚋𝚛𝚒 , 𝚎𝚜𝚝 , 𝟸𝟷+ , 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛. ⌋ ⌈ 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: i’m currently using brunette gifs of lennon stella bc i haven’t gotten around to make any blonde ones yet #lazy, so until then i’m using what i can find in a gif hunt. ⌋

❝ 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 ❞

𝙵𝚄𝙻𝙻 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 : olive pricilla remines

𝙽𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂 : tbd

𝙰𝙶𝙴 : twenty - one

𝚂𝙴𝚇𝚄𝙰𝙻 𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : heterosexual

𝙱𝙸𝚁𝚃𝙷𝙳𝙰𝚈 : september 2nd , 1998

𝚉𝙾𝙳𝙸𝙰𝙲 : virgo

𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙾𝚆𝙽 : new york city, new york

𝙼𝙰𝙹𝙾𝚁 : graphic design

𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙾𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈 : kappa chi omega

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 : magnanimous, amiable, frivolous, enigmatic

𝙷𝙾𝙱𝙱𝙸𝙴𝚂 : painting, running, baking, photography, yoga

❝ 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 ❞

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙴𝙶𝙸𝙽𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 : olive is the second and last born to sebastian and lucille remines. sebastian, the owner and heir of his great grandfather’s winery business and lucille, a once aspiring grade-school teacher now settled and content trophy wife. growing up in the upper east side, the remines family is very well known among the other prestigious surnames in nyc; sebastian and lucille are very gallant of their squeaky-clean reputation.

𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚆𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚄𝙿 : at a very young age perfectionism was instilled in olive. if she did something wrong, instead of telling her it was fine and she would get better, her mother would make her do the task over until she got it right. failure was not an option within the remines family. between studies, extracurriculars, and hobbies olive was told if you weren’t first you were last. olive never dared to rebel against her parents, being deemed as their ‘golden child’. her parent’s knew she would do whatever was asked of her and with discipline. since grade school she was seen as very creative minded, constantly wanting to get her hand on anything that would express herself visually; whether it were paint, glue, pencils, or glitter. through high school she maintained a 3.98 GPA which in retrospect was arduous and stressful that she couldn’t get to the prominent 4.0.

𝟸 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂 𝙰𝚃 𝙱𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙴 : olive’s parent’s weren’t too thrilled that the girl had chosen belvedere or graphic design; they were hoping she’d help take over the family’s winery and at the least have some sort of major in business. however this is the only thing she has rebelled against them and stuck to. she wanted to be happy and she knew that a life living in her father’s shadow would not be one of those, she also felt her older brother would be more suitable for the job. her first year she rushed kappa chi omega with high hopes and inevitably got a bid, desperately making friends with everyone and anyone who crossed her path. she’d go to parties but never get to the point where she’d black out, was always the type to handle herself and her liquor level, even though this was the first time she wasn’t under the clutches of her parents. start of her junior year she was elected as social chair, which she takes pride in as she is a planner, she loves to organize and contrive the kappa house events.

𝙴𝚇𝚃𝚁𝙰 𝚂𝙽𝙸𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚃𝚂 : just because olive is an overachiever doesn’t mean she isn’t social or like to have fun. she is very outgoing, enjoys adventures, but don’t be surprised if she has part of the trip planned or mapped out. when she gets a nice buzz going you won’t be able to stop her from showing off her incredibly uncoordinated dance moves. she’s the type of friend who will be at your beck and call, she cares deeply for people and is very loyal. tell her your deepest darkest secrets and she’ll hold them to her grave. she’s not the type to fight, in fact if you approach her she’ll curl up into a shell and back down. she does not like confrontation but if she has an issue she will be straightforward and tell you how she’s feeling in the nicest way possible. she doesn’t flaunt her family’s money but she isn’t shy about the name brands she wears and she loves to spend it. if you come to hang out expect some kind of baked goods or snacks freshly made by yours truly. she’s picky when it comes to the guys, is known to not have random hook ups, making her slightly unattainable. however if she finds someone she likes, there’s no stopping her.

❝ 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 ❞

plants everywhere; potted plants, hanging plants, large plants, small plants— she’s a certified plant mama // meticulously organized desk // uplifting and positive quotes on sticky notes stuck on her mirror // tons of jewelry— she loves to accessorize // color organized closet // candles // cup full of paintbrushes and a pallet of water colors // nikon d3500 camera // record player and a slew of records // stringed lights around her bedpost // neutral colored bedding // books lining a window pane // pics of her fam, friends, and dog back home

❝ 𝚊𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚜 ❞

freshly manicured finger nails // glossed lips // glass of merlot // silk dresses and nude heels // mon paris by ysl // crackle on an ending vinyl // thrift stores // shots of espresso // high-cut bikinis // neutral colors // the scent of cookies wafting through the house // nervous tapping of her feet // stopping to smell flowers // cursive handwriting // daily planners // highlighters and colored pens // photoshop // stickers on her laptop // cartier rings // dry wine // vodka soda— top shelf only // designer bags // crying while watching disney originals // glancing at herself in any mirror she passes // immediately texting or calling back // tucking hair behind her ear // deep conversations // talismanic smiles // staring at a piece of art for hours // paint stained pants // braced ankle while running // stolen glances // 70’s music

❝ 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚜 ❞

biting inside of lip // shaking leg // nervously baking // reapplying lipstick // straightening out clothing // trusting too easily // getting taken advantage of // snapping pictures at any event // knowing every word to her favorite songs

❝ 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚜 ❞

best friend ( m/f ) // exes ( m ) // crush ( m ) // enemies ( m/f ) // childhood friend ( m/f ) // love/hate ( m/f ) // party friends ( m/f ) // fake friends ( m/f )

#bulldogs.intro #aldfkjsd im so excited #like this if we haven't plotted i'll come to you

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celticfeather · 5 years

Link

Chapter 1: https://celticfeather.tumblr.com/post/188433697686/akatsuki-fic-campfires

Cannibals Chapter 3: The Lineage of Izanagi

-Uchiha Itachi-

Something particularly loveless prodded Itachi awake.

"You're the last watch till dawn," Kakuzu said. Itachi activated his sharingan as he woke, his dark eyes shifting to red. He could see Kakuzu's green ones were dilated near-sightlessly in the blackness.

Itachi rose and leapt up their chosen watchman's tree. The sharingan allowed him to see a wider spectrum of visible light than a normal human, and what should have been the black jungle night gained a strange ultraviolet tinge, a whitish-purple color somewhere between neon and dark that his language could not well describe. The stars and chakras shined different, coldly-bright, minty colors too. But he saw no glows of enemy shinobi in the night, just the gentle silver chakra silhouettes of sleeping birds and insects, and the three ninja below him. He let his sharingan fade. In an hour it had become bright enough for ordinary humans to see.

He alighted between the three ninja sleeping on the ground to no response. So much for Kisame's 'I only half sleep' claim.

Unsure of the best way to wake them, Itachi announced at normal volume, "It's dawn."

They rose quickly and quietly, professional in every mercenary sense of the word. For a troupe of cantankerous rogues, Itachi was surprised no one complained. He supposed that would resume once they decided they were no longer being hunted.

"No sign of the enemy since I've been awake," Itachi reported.

"Time to get the hell out of the land of Lightning. Anyone gotta take a piss, now's the time," Kakuzu said. After a short moment, the four ninja oriented themselves against the eastern dawn, and began leaping through the trees.

"Where's Zetsu when you need him?" Deidara muttered as they ran. "He'd say what Pain wants us to do about this."

"You don't need Pain or his pet mushroom. You have me," Kakuzu said.

"Yeah? And who made you second in command?"

"I'm the one who actually talks with our contractors. So naturally, I have our mission intel, and there's no reason to stop work."

"Hmpf," Deidara said.

"Since you fucked up the least, Kisame, I'll let you pick what you do." Kakuzu said. "You want to fix this Raikage incident, or make some money?"

Kisame looked at Itachi for his opinion. Itachi merely raised his eyebrows in reply.

"Make money," Kisame answered. Good. Itachi wanted to be away from this disaster.

"Great. You two go to this shithole village and kill their patriarch. When you're done with that, some pirates could use a lesson in not leaving witnesses." Kakuzu tossed a scroll to Kisame and one to Itachi, who each caught them deftly. Kakuzu then looked at Deidara.

"Deidara, you and Sasori will fix your fuck up. We don't want the Cloud or Mist investigating the Akatsuki. Blame it on different terrorists."

"How do we do that?"

"Doesn't matter," Kakuzu said.

Deidara frowned. But his calmness suggested he thought Sasori would know how to fix it.

They were soon over the border of the Land of Frost, where they said the brief goodbyes of stiff men. Itachi and Kisame continued west. Deidara went north. Kakuzu south. They stopped at a collection point on the way to get Kisame a new robe and gear, and began their ascent to the next mission's village in the afternoon.

They stopped along a river to prepare. The mint-colored alpine meltwater cooled the air in a low dense pocket from the beating sun. Itachi opened the scroll of mission intel and familiarized himself with the details. "Small town. Better we don't make a stir."

Kisame grunted in acknowledgement and stepped towards the river, swinging Samehada off his shoulder. He summoned a large deep-blue shark along the bank. It opened its mouth, and Kisame pressed the wrapped Samehada inside its white-fleshed throat. The two ninja being armed to the teeth was useful for intimidation, but a hindrance to infiltration. As if it was a loyal horse, Kisame patted the magical shark once on the muzzle once it closed its jaws around Samehada.

"You ever touch a shark before, Itachi? Try it."

Like he had been invited to partake in the most dangerous petting zoo, Itachi wet his feet at the bank where the shark, high as his hips, swayed half submerged. He thought the shark would look at him, or at least acknowledge him, but its circular black eyes didn't waver. With a slowness Itachi hoped the fish would interpret as respect, he brushed his palm against its exposed gray flank.

"It feels like sandpaper."

Kisame smiled. "Shark skin is actually made of dentin, the same material as teeth."

Because they need more of that, Itachi thought. He removed his hand, and deeming its duty done, the huge probably-sentient carnivore disappeared with a puff of mist to the realm Kisame had summoned it from.

"It's not easy to make a summoning contract with a shark, you know. Ninja tend to not come back," Kisame said.

"I thought you said sharks don't like how people taste."

"Oh, the sage sharks of Koraru Depths make exceptions for arrogant Mist chunin. You don't taste that bad."

He sent Kisame a reproachful look at his choice of pronouns, but Itachi's face was something of a resting scowl, so Kisame seemed not to notice.

To appear like a traveler of the civilian sort, Itachi untied his shuriken packs and the ninja headband. They kept their robes, no one yet recognized the red clouds as unique. He thought living in the forest on the run gave him enough of a convincingly rough appearance. Lifting his gaze from the water's reflection, he regarded his partner.

"Do I pass for a trader?"

"You look fine. It's your voice that's the problem."

"My voice?"

"I don't know how much you know about the Hidden Mist, but there we have a caste system, and the Hoshigaki belong to a certain caste. And people like me can tell by your dialect, Itachi, that you come from a noble family, and there's not a chance in hell you're a traveling merchant."

Itachi never thought of himself as in an upper class, and caste had been abolished in his land seventy years ago. Kisame's background in the Mist allowed him to perceive things that Itachi never intended to exude. "I see."

"Try gotcha, instead of I see."

"Gotcha."

Itachi pulled a piece of paper from the scroll and unfolded its careful nine-faceted square. A sketch of the man they were paid to kill stared back at them. Taika Hiroki. About sixty years old, leader of the local clan, someone had it out for him. Kisame nodded, having committed his face a last time to memory. Itachi burned the incriminating documents between his fingers.

The pair climbed ancient stairs carved from wood, stone, and roots, along a humid forested mountain crest. Traditional torii winged gates arched over their heads, and the small village soon appeared along a glacial lake between the mountains. A chunin posted at the doorless entrance looked the two travelers up and down. He pulled a root of wild licorice from his teeth before he spoke.

"What brings you to Honomura?"

"We're merchants," Kisame said.

"Here for the festival?"

"Of course."

The guard escorted them in. A minor official who clearly did not get enough visitors gave them each wooden travelers' passes. What a bothersome village.

Itachi felt more endangered in these hamlets. He paradoxically would be less noticed in a large ninja village. It was in these tribal redoubts, where most of the settlement consisted of a single clan, that he knew he was immediately recognized as an outsider. By the introductions they made with petty officials, the pair gleaned that three quarters of the settlement's two-hundred-odd population had the surname Taika, and it would not be easy to find theirs.

But the presence of the foreigners attracted mercifully little attention at the festival. Like moths drawn to the warm haze of paper lanterns, the outlaw pair wandered dazed to the center of the fairgrounds. After weeks in the forest they were transfixed by the live music, the vendors, and best, the greasy scent of real food -not whole animals- which glistened with salt and sauce. They looked at each other with testing eyes that betrayed the same poorly concealed thought.

"How much money do we have," Itachi said.

Kisame checked himself. "I've got eight hundred."

"I have one thousand."

Crap.

"I'll find some more money," Kisame said. Good. They were on the same line of the same page. In less than two minutes, Kisame had stolen a two centimeter wad of cash from a food stand.

Itachi's eyes darted from stand to stand. "What do you want to eat?"

"Do I look picky to you?"

Bristling with treasures —foods on sticks and cups of tea and sake between their knuckles— Itachi and Kisame seated themselves at one of many low tables near the town's stage and began to eat. Soon enough an announcer entered stage center, and introduced an act on the origin of deities.

"How's your knowledge of religion, Itachi?"

"Average."

The play began as they ate, and rusted to art forms, Itachi found himself paying rapt attention. Two actors dressed in white robes, a woman and a spear-wielding man, stepped onto the stage, where white lanterns cast the empty scene in an ethereal fog. Dipping his spear into the water, or rather tapping the stage floor, the man created land, and the white-clouded lanterns slid on the string to be replaced with ones tinted a jungle green.

"Izanami and Izanagi," Itachi whispered to Kisame. "Siblings, but also..." he waved his hand in esoteric explanation.

The creation gods Izanami and Izanagi had several deformed and normative children. First born was Hiruko, stricken with a hunched back, and cast into a river. They had many others, at last birthing Kagutsuchi the fire god. Izanami died giving birth to the flaming infant.

"And with Izanami's end, the world's first death occurred, and with it the age of creation. Intent to amend his wife's unjust fate, Izanagi plunged into the underworld, which then, was not separated from the realm of men," the narrator read.

Izanami wandered through a darkened stage, and stopped short. Behind a veil shined the unmistakable silhouette of his beloved wife.

The curtain lifted, but the woman it revealed was not fair Izanami. The actress's serene white face-paint had become putrefied in death. Children's gasps accented the moment. Fingers curled in shock at his rancid beloved, Izanagi turned away. His wife was enraged at his superficial rejection, and spurred demons after her former lover. Izanagi raced from the underworld, off the stage, where demons in fur-rimmed masks chased him through the audience until Izanagi circled, panting but safe, back onto the stage of the surface world. He pushed a prop-boulder over the cave, forever sealing life from death.

The narrator stepped onto the stage, and a spotlight centered on him, with Izanagi bathing himself in background.

"Izanagi cleansed himself from the underworld in a rushing river. The water that streamed off his face became three new gods:"

The spotlight jumped to greet the new characters in regal dress:

"From one eye sprung the proud moon god, Tsukuyomi."

"From the nose, the mischievous god of sea and storm, Susanoo."

"And from the other eye, artful and enlightened, patron of our village: Amaterasu the sun."

"Amaterasu was by far the most righteous and beautiful of the three new gods," the narrator crooned, and stooped low to leer at her backside. Amaterasu raised her fan to her face, whumphing the announcer without a lapse in grace, and the audience laughed.

The three new gods greeted the world of men -the audience- each with kabuki flourishes that reflected their personalities. He thought Amaterasu made eye contact with him from behind her fan.

"Hm." Kisame smiled slightly and his pupils slid to Itachi.

Itachi sipped his tea. "We might be the most interesting thing that blew into this town in a week."

"You should talk with her."

"I'm not good at flirting."

Kisame snorted. "Just like your knowledge of religion."

"I'm not being modest. I haven't spoken with a girl my age in years. In this town, I'm just a merchant."

"A kind, handsome one."

Itachi was struck that Kisame had called him 'kind.' He did not think Kisame would evaluate someone with that category. Not knowing how to take the compliment, Itachi stared back at the stage. Amaterasu and Susanoo competed over who was a stronger god. Amaterasu had just turned Susanoo's sword into five human beings, versus Susanoo's ability to spring only three from her necklace.

Their low table quaked. Kisame had plunged his cup down so hard and fast that his drink sloshed over the rim. His wide nose wrinkled and the stare Itachi met was battle-urgent.

"There's blood, buckets of it, enough to drain ten men."

Itachi forced his shoulders to relax. They must not act or show awareness of this yet. His eyes scanned the crowd as a cheering arose and the taiko drums beat an excited sinister trot into the space between his ribs. A column of fifteen men and boys carved a path like a wild river through the parade grounds, a coarse wooden platform undulating on the men's shoulders. Atop it glistened a bleeding heap of fresh red muscles and white fascia. It was a dead, skinned, horse.

Kisame squinted. "What the hell?"

"The crimes of Susanoo. Upset with his sister, he flayed the skin off Amaterasu's horse," Itachi explained. He also noted that in these conditions, Kisame could not differentiate human from animal blood.

Susanoo charmingly presented Amaterasu the horse carcass from the audience. Amaterasu strode off the stage in grief and anger, her silken white-red sleeves snapping, and the stage darkened with the egress of the dawn goddess, plunging the realm of men into darkness. Susanoo smirked and laughed, and the loping demons in fur-rimed masks began to howl. String instruments climaxed crescendo and fell, marking the end of the play's chapter. The audience gasped and clapped. The festival night was now without the Sun's guidance, and any kind of crookedness could occur before dawn returned.

The men heaped the horse onto a pyre, and a chunin lit it with a fire jutsu, enflaming a birchwood pile which was small enough that the meat might be cooked rather than carbonized. The village had a dark interpretation of their worship: Itachi thought that the goddess Amaterasu would not appreciate the flaying of another horse in her name. But the villagers seemed to like it.

"The Leaders of the Mist would consider this barbaric," Kisame said, his sly eyes smiling behind his cup.

Itachi matched Kisame's sentiment. No, the great ninja villages did not sacrifice simple horses to gods of sun, but sacrificed men and souls to gods of war. Gods they hailed each time they smithed a kunai, and who licked their lips at each newborn baby.

The next performance started, some students playing taiko drums. It was a banal sight compared to the play. Itachi ate his dango and drank his tea, listened to the music, and watched thick smoke rise from the pyre.

A gang of the village's teens stood by the pyre, the actress for Amaterasu among them. She had removed the headdress and white facepaint, but she still wore Amaterasu's red and white wake-sleeved furisode. One of the group looked at him and Kisame and giggled, as if discussing a dare. Then Amaterasu looked at the two travelers and grabbed a tray. He realized with a start that she was coming towards them. Kisame, who smelled caste like he smelled blood, tugged Itachi's robe, telling him that this is when merchants stood.

She dipped her head in greeting. "Excuse me sirs, my name is Taika Hato. I'm priestess at our temple and actress at the theater. We noticed you're not from around here. Would you like some horse flesh?"

Itachi blinked: the sun goddess Amaterasu had just offered him to eat her horse. He stumbled out a yes.

"And you, sir?"

"Please give me the shoulder, Miss Hato."

"Sure. May I ask your names?"

'Itachi' meant weasel. Weasels were small, ambitious, mean, and hungry. His parents' birth judgement had been imperfect: Itachi had become a man who was calm, sharp, and observant.

"I am Karasu. And this is my companion, Mekajiki. It's very good to meet you, and thank you for the food." Itachi bowed his head and gave himself a name meaning crow, and swordfish for Kisame.

"You're welcome! How was the show?"

"Your performance was stirring. I only hope your next act is soon: if I remember, demons terrorize everyone on earth until Amaterasu comes back," he said, trying his best to exude friendliness, but he had not spoken to anyone he considered a friend in years. He sat down, and with a gesture to the empty space, he invited Hato to join them if she wanted. He noticed Kisame's chin dip near-imperceptibly in approval of his manners.

"You know your religion," she said, taking a seat. "Stick around tomorrow at seven to see me kick Susanoo's butt. What brings you two here?"

"You mean, you can't tell by our dress?" Itachi asked.

"It is odd," she agreed.

Itachi smiled. "We're charcoal burners."

"So you...?"

"We fell trees, burn the logs in an earthen kiln using fire and water style, and then travel from village to village selling the charcoal. Smiths burn it to keep their forges at the correct temperature. It's also used in cooking, fertilizer, detergent, explosives, traditional medicine- even cosmetics. We've got a wagon full of it down the road."

Her look between the two men deduced Itachi was the fire user. "How good is your fire style?"

"Just the basics," he said modestly.

Hato's eyes changed from simply friendly to that of intrigue, and her expression became appraising and hopeful. "For the last act, the village guards cast fire jutsus as tributes to Amaterasu. You should join them."

"I couldn't possibly intrude on your ceremony as an outsider."

"When it comes to this ceremony, I am the authority. Plus, gifts from strangers mean more than gifts from friends, we say."

Itachi nodded. He would make an offering of flame to Amaterasu. And the girl, her representative, smiled with her eyes. "Thank you, Karasu! They'll love it."

Kisame stretched, looked at the two youths, and stood to leave. His gaze alerted Itachi not to expect his return. "I'm going to… get some more sake."

"You don't want to watch your friend perform?" Hato asked.

Kisame grinned and waved. "He's not so impressive."

Hato led Itachi backstage to meet the village's top military brass: a gaggle of four men spanning years fifteen to thirty who passed a ceramic bottle between them. The root-chewing gatekeeper was youngest among them. Hato was received warmly by the soldiers. She introduced Itachi as a pious charcoal merchant, and he was quickly ignored by the men.

For this dangerous and final act of the night, the stage had been stripped bare of its curtains and paper lanterns, and strapping men spilled buckets of water across the hardwood stage. A grinning bucket-spiller splashed the remaining water dregs onto the squealing children in the front row. From the backstage tent, Itachi watched the first four performers submit their offerings, each casting the biggest sun he could into the night sky in honor of Amaterasu. The crowd shrieked and laughed, fire reflecting on their wide scleras. Stepping forward for his turn, Itachi decided he would create a fireball that was the third largest- no need to upstage the locals.

Itachi mounted the stage as the penultimate performer left. His eye caught on Hato staring at him encouragingly, she flashed a thumbs-up, and he was bolstered with a better idea. Halting just one step onto the stage, Itachi faced profile, and his chest swelled like a bird. He blew, and his fire bloomed a deep ferrous red sparking with trace elements, and the chakra fireball sprinted across the stage in the shape of a stallion. Mane flaring, embers sparking from its light hooves, the fleet, shrieking horse appeared and faded in a vacuum roar. He returned backstage to raucous applause. When the soldiers' mouths gaped wide enough to catch frogs, a quiet grin cut Itachi's lips.

It hadn't been larger than yours, he thought.

Hato linked arms with him and led him through the festival crowds. She would introduce him to people and he would forget their names. Villagers welcomed him like a hero and plied him with sake. A kind old lady handed him a skewer with cubes of horseflesh. Any friend of Amaterasu was a friend of theirs. He was happy. Kisame was gone, the mission was something for tomorrow, Hato was a nice girl, and he could pretend to be normal for a night. Her attention made him feel pleasantly male, that he wasn't strange, isolated, murderous or evil.

She had showed him around the small town and they found themselves walking along the cold, white-graveled shores of the glacier lake. The gentle summer alpine night glowed cobalt blue, lightened by a huge low moon, whose coolness was relieving compared to the warm and dark frenzy of the blood festival.

"Actress and priestess," Itachi said as they strolled. "One's devout, and old people would say the other is sinful. I haven't met a person who's been both."

She smiled. "Each coin has two sides, and the same goes for you. Where'd a merchant learn ninjutsu like that?"

"The road is dangerous… and," he whispered like sharing a secret, "Sometimes really boring."

"Hah! Can't be less interesting than here."

"Did you know, that was a curse you'd tell your enemies in the old days? 'May you live in interesting times'?"

"Sounds menacing when you say it. Can you do other ninja tricks?"

In a heartbeat, he threw three kunai in a perfect line along a slender birch, each resonating a deep thunk that merged into one. A white and gold moth fluttered impaled on the center knife. She gasped.

But when he looked back at her, her face seemed uncomfortable. The throw was well above chunin level, above most jounin. Itachi knew he should not be careless in his desire to impress her by throwing beyond the abilities of a merchant. But somehow, the throw had not pleased her.

"Is something wrong, Hato?"

"What I liked about your fire jutsu wasn't its killing power; it wasn't a weapon, it was art."

"Art..."

"It's like how you and Mekajiki use fire and water style to make charcoal. Your fire style painted Amaterasu's horse, and it was beautiful. Performance is art, and it makes people happy."

Itachi regurgitated what he knew of art. "Do you think art is a single rapturous instant, or eternal?"

"Weird question. Art isn't a period of time, but a place. It transports you somewhere you've never been before, to some feeling you've never felt before"

"Hm," Itachi pondered. He thought that was a better philosophy than that of either Deidara or Sasori. He wondered how mad they would be if he answered like that, and decided he would next time they asked his opinion. Which would probably be never.

She smiled at him. "I've got a stupid dream. Wanna hear it?"

"I'd love to."

"I dream to lead a group someday that practices more peaceful uses to ninjutsu than war. Even if it was just a traveling circus of theater artists, and all we accomplished was making some villagers laugh."

"You've already got a talent for performance. The road is dangerous, but train and surround yourself with others like you, and only a fool would rob you."

She smiled sadly. "Dad wants me to marry a prince in the next village."

"Bring the prince along."

The actress said nothing and skipped a stone over the lake. It failed after two stops, and she made a noise of embarrassment. Itachi picked up a small flat stone and also skipped it badly. Ripples in the lake reflected the moonbeams like bobbing driftwood.

"It's late," Itachi said after a while.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?"

Itachi did not answer right away. She said, "Stay the night at my house."

Itachi bowed. "That's very generous of you. I would be happy to stay overnight in your stable, and my partner as well, if possible."

There was a sly shift of her eyes, lids heavy around her big, black pupils. "I think he'll have found an inn by now. But that shouldn't stop you."

Hato escorted him across flagstones that shone silver in the moonlight. Carrying their shoes, opening a sliding door with the utmost care, the two tiptoeing teens entered her sub-clan's complex and slipped into her bedroom.

Itachi set his shoes along the wall, wondering to what extent he should undress himself. When he turned around, Hato had knelt on her white futon. With her eyes trained at him, she slowly loosened the belt of her furisode to bare her chest. Itachi did the same. He reached to kiss her, she kissed him back. He shed the rest of his clothes, then did the same for her. He leaned into her. This is what people did.

He shuddered at the unfamiliarity when her weak hands touched his neck, they were warm and soft, hot as death-blood. He banished the rising memories, memories from the last time he did this, no, from the last time he thought he did this with Izumi that terrible night. Their bodies fit together like hot white ivory, and like smoke and steam, a very un-normal man tried his best to do this very normal thing.

Author's Note;

Heyo, thanks for supporting this fic. I plan to post Chapter 4 around Friday Nov 23. This will be a long dramatic fic with probably about 10-15 chapters this length, and I have a lot of progress made already.

Let me know your thoughts. And thanks of course to thanks again to beta myochiikurin!

Steadfast,

Kelto

Follow on FF or Ao3

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13409132/1/Campfires

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21019778/chapters/49992863

#split this one because it was too long #but chapter 3 yay!#this was delayed because i literally could not write the last paragraph how i wanted for two weeks #but its an important skill to just say yeah im 80 percent satisfied with this and publish it anyway #campfires #naruto #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfic #itachi #kisame #kisaita #celticfeather #keltodier #thanks for reading!

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welcometophu · 4 years

Text

Extra: the past haunts the future

For those who celebrate, Merry Christmas! For those celebrating, Happy Hanukkah! For everyone else, happy Wednesday. :)

We’re taking a short break from the main storyline today to show a little something off to the side. Pawel’s been worried (of course!) about Conor. Have you been curious? Let’s have a little outside viewpoint about Conor. (And a little bit about Pawel, too).

===

the past haunts the future

Colt/Leo (with all their kids), 2,923 words

Colt doesn’t mean to be late getting home; it just happens. He picks up Jennie from pre-K, then collects Emma from her after school program. Jennie needs cupcakes for some reason he doesn’t fully understand, and Emma asks if she can bring in brownies to cheer up the new kid in her class, and next thing he knows he’s standing in the grocery store with a full cart and two hungry children while he tries to wrangle dinner arrangements over the phone with Nevaeh.

“We aren’t burning anything down,” Nevaeh says. There’s a clatter in the background, the rustling of the phone moving before she yells, “Matt cut that out! I swear to God, I’m going to—I have to go because Matt’s climbing in the pantry. He’s a rat. I think he’s trying to hide from Duke and I don’t even know, but I promise, we’ll have spaghetti ready to go on the table when you get home. How’s Emma?”

It all spills out in a rush and a single breath, and it’s a good thing that Colt’s used to how their eldest teen foster speaks when she’s distracted. There’s a soft whoosh and a thump and a yell in the background.

Jennie blinks up at him from where she sits in the cart, a box of cupcakes halfway to open in her lap. Her fawn brown eyes go wide and innocent and she carefully sets the box down again.

Colt pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see you when we get home. Shouldn’t be too long. I’d bring dessert but I’m not sure anyone there needs sugar and apparently everyone’s taking sweets to school tomorrow anyway.”

Nevaeh doesn’t respond, simply disappears with a click as the call ends.

Emma tugs at Colt’s sleeve. By the time he looks at her, she has her hands behind her back as if she never touched him. “His daddy disappeared, too,” she says quietly. “We have to get the right brownies. We can get enough for the whole class, but Conor’s most important.”

“What kind does he like best?” Colt doesn’t remember a Conor, but Emma says the kid’s new, and it sounds like he’s having a rough time.

Not only that, it sounds like he’s having the kind of rough time that Emma more than understands. Colt motions and they weave through the bakery until they stand in front of a display of multi-packs of cookies and brownies. Emma steps forward and surveys them all thoughtfully, her lips pursed and brow furrowed. She finally reaches out and taps a box with one dark finger. “These?” she asks hopefully.

Colt picks up the box she picked—dark chocolate with a toasted coconut and caramel topping—along with a box of plain brownies. “We’ll get two, in case he doesn’t like coconut.”

Emma scoffs. “Everyone important likes coconut.”

Colt doesn’t doubt that they do when its drowned in caramel like a certain addictive cookie, just like these brownies happen to be, but he’s seen enough picky kids to know they should bring options. “Just in case,” he says, as both boxes go in the cart.

Jennie has a cupcake out of the box and chocolate frosting smeared on her hands. Nothing else seems damaged, so Colt lets it go. There are bigger fights that could be had than this one right now.

He’s not sure how a run to collect food for school turned into a week’s worth of shopping, but their kids go through a lot of food, and if he’s at the store he might as well pick up a few things.

Several grocery bags worth of “few” that is.

Emma helps him put the bags in his SUV, while Jennie scrambles into the back seat and her booster, leaving chocolate fingerprints everywhere along the way. His phone rings while he’s getting both girls buckled into their respective booster seats, singing out with the tone he set for Leo. Colt lets it go until everything’s set with the girls and he’s gotten the car started, by which point the ringing has long since stopped. He speaks clearly: “Call Leo.”

It’s picked up on the first ring.

“You’re on speaker,” Colt says, before Leo even answers, because there are things that shouldn’t be said in front of a car full of kids. “I had to stop off to pick up a few things, so we’re just leaving the store now.”

“What kinds of things?” There’s rustling in the background, which means that Leo’s still at his desk. The rustling stops, and Leo’s voice is clearer. “I’m walking out the door now. I am well aware that I should’ve been home—”

“You texted and said you needed me to pick up the girls, that wasn’t a problem.” Colt waves it away as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads for home. “It’s not the first time one of us has covered for the other and it won’t be the last. Nevaeh had dinner well in hand, I think. Matt and Duke were… something chaotic, I’m not sure. I wasn’t clear on it from what Nevaeh said. Anyway, I needed to pick up cupcakes for Jennie’s pre-K and Emma wanted to bring in brownies for the new kid in her class.”

“Conor!” Emma yells out. “His daddy disappeared, too!”

A soft hiss of breath, almost inaudible.

“Leo?” Colt says softly.

“Conor Szczek’s in your class?” Leo asks.

The bottom drops out of Colt’s gut.

“That’s Conor. He just started. He’s staying with his Dziadziu until his dad comes back. He’s just temporary too, like me.” Emma stares at the rearview mirror, and Colt meets her eyes, not rejecting her words.

Emma hopes her parents will appear as abruptly as they disappeared. And if they do, well, that’s great for Emma and Colt would be happy for her. But they’d miss her, too. She’s already one of their kids, even if it’s only been a couple of months.

“So anyway.” Colt fights to keep his tone even. He knows Leo can hear the beat of his heart over the line, the way it tripped over Conor’s surname and how it still feels like its rushing now. “Cupcakes and brownies turned into a not-so-quick trip to resupply everything the kids have run out of. We’re on our way home now. You’re heading out already?”

The question there is really are you going to come home and explain this to me and he’s positive that Leo understands that.

“I had to cover Cap’s shift,” Leo says carefully. “I need to swing by his place to drop off some paperwork. Shouldn’t take long. Make sure the boys leave some food for me, okay?”

“Matt and Duke are both pretty gross, but you old people still eat more,” Emma says and Jennie giggles brightly. Colt can see Emma’s pleased smile in the mirror as she offers a hand for a high five, and Jennie smacks it.

Colt chooses to ignore the rudeness since, for the moment, the girls are bonding.

“I’ll see you at home then.” Colt touches the phone to end the call, and drives the rest of the way in silence.

Given what information he has already, he has a feeling that whatever story Leo has to add to it isn’t going to make him feel any better.

Dinner is chaos, as usual. After dinner it’s time to make sure the little kids get homework done first, then get ready for bed while the older kids claim the kitchen table for their turn. Colt and Leo handle the cleanup in silent cooperation, hoping that it’ll move the evening along without arguments.

Emma is the one who dawdles, lingering outside the room she shares with Jennie until even Nevaeh has gone to bed. She goes to get a cup of water and brings it in to set on her nightstand, then goes to brush her teeth for the third time. When she announces quietly that she needs to pee for the fourth time in an hour, Colt reroutes her to the living room, where Leo waits on the couch.

She hesitates, then climbs onto the couch, sitting on the center cushion between Leo and Colt. Her lips are pressed together, her braids swinging forward in her face.

“What’s wrong?” Leo asks quietly, leaning closer to her; Emma flinches slightly.

Colt sets his arm across the back of the couch, fingers lightly brushing Leo’s shoulder until he pulls back and gives Emma more room.

“I’m okay,” she mumbles. “I’m just worried about Conor. And I wonder if his parents and my parents are in the same place. And if maybe there’s something out there going around stealing Talented adults or something. And if it wants more adults, or maybe it wants moms and dads. Or maybe it wants kids next.”

Colt meets Leo’s gaze over the top of Emma’s head.

“We’re not going to let anything get you and steal you away,” Leo says quietly. Firmly. Colt looks at him and sees the king of the plains, the majestic lion as clearly as if Leo had shifted his form.

Emma licks her lips, presses them even more tightly together. She clasps her hands tight in her lap, shoulders shaking. “But what if it—what if you’re not here?”

Oh.

“Emma,” Colt says quickly.

Her head lifts, eyes wide as she looks at him. “You can’t promise—”

“I can promise that we will do everything in our power to ensure that we are here for you,” Colt says solemnly. “We know there’s maybe something out there, and we’ll watch for it, and we will make sure that you—and Duke and Matt and Jennie and Nevaeh—are all cared for and safe. You’re right; I can’t promise that something won’t try to come for us. But I can promise that if it does, Leo and I will fight back with everything that we have and are.”

Her mouth stays open in a small rounded ‘O’.

“Colt said it better than I could,” Leo agrees. “And remember, I work with Conor’s grandfather—”

“Dziadziu,” Emma corrects them.

“Cap is doing everything he can to find Conor’s dad,” Leo continues. “And I’ll make sure he knows that you think that maybe it’s the same thing that took your parents. Because that’s good information, and maybe it’ll help the police.”

For the first time that Colt can remember since Emma came to them a couple of months ago, he sees hope light her eyes. She smiles slightly, and her hands unclench. “Thank you,” she says solemnly. She slides off the couch, padding away on bare feet. “I think it’s going to be nice out tomorrow,” she says as she walks away. “It’s spring. It ought to be nice so we can play outside.” The door to her room closes with a soft thunk after she goes in.

Colt slumps back on the couch.

Leo tilts his head, eyes closed as he listens. After a moment his expression eases. “She’s almost asleep,” he murmurs. “The rest already are.”

Colt looks at the long hall that leads to the three bedrooms on the main floor: Jennie and Emma, Matt and Duke, and Nevaeh installed in what’s supposed to be the master suite. He and Leo gave it up to her when Emma arrived at the end of January, while they moved into the playroom over the garage. “Maybe we should think of getting a bigger house,” he says.

He moves when Leo tugs at him, ending up curled close to his husband, one arm around his waist as he leans his head against his shoulder. Colt rearranges himself, stretching out along the couch, burrowing back into Leo’s heavy warmth. “We’re probably going to bring home more, right?” Colt asks.

“I was thinking of telling Cap that if he needs help, Conor can always come here,” Leo murmurs, pressing the words with soft kisses against the top of Colt’s head. “I know Lucy and Rowan would send us more, if they found more around here who needed us. We can house hunt any time you’re ready.”

Colt files it away as a potential distraction against the issues at hand. But first those issues need to be discussed. “So,” he says, and leaves the opening for Leo to explain.

“I had a call this morning, and I had to drive by Hart Acres on my way back to the station,” Leo says. “You know the place: that retirement community where you have to be over fifty-five to live there, and no one is actually retired. But they do have a strict no kids rule, and this morning there was this kid standing out at the end of the road waiting for the bus.” He pauses a moment before adding, “Cap’s car was right there, waiting with him, and I recognized the kid from the pictures on his desk. Cap’s proud of him.”

Colt makes a small non-committal noise.

“So I asked.”

He makes it sound simple, but Colt knows it’s not as easy as that. After all, they’ve both known Captain Janusz Szczek since before he was the captain. They’ve known him since they were in high school, back when he was just Pawel Szczek’s father.

Pawel. Who’s apparently missing now.

“And?” Colt prompts. His throat feels tight, because it might feel like a lifetime ago, but Pawel was his most serious relationship before Leo.

Leo combs through his hair with his fingers. His head drops, words a whisper of warm breath against the back of Colt’s ear. “Conor came home a week ago and Pawel was gone,” he murmurs. “It’s the second time in a month, and this time he didn’t plan to leave Conor with the neighbor first. Conor went over to visit, and when he came back, Pawel’s car was still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. Apparently he’s not the only one to disappear. Pawel was working with some of his students, and except for one who was unconscious when Conor got there, they’ve all been listed as missing now.”

“Do they have any idea…” Colt’s voice falls away as Leo shakes his head. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Colt pushes himself up so he can turn and face Leo. He frames his face with his hands, leans in forehead to forehead. “You okay?”

Because this isn’t just about Colt’s ex. Colt dated Pawel more than a decade ago, before they left for separate colleges. But Leo dated him first, three years before that, when Pawel and Colt were just freshmen in high school and Leo was already a senior.

Leo shakes his head slowly. “Not really. I spent a long time talking to Cap today. Pawel’s been looking into things that might be related to how Emma’s parents disappeared,” he whispers, almost inaudible. “So she might not be wrong. Whatever it is might have come to get him, too, along with some kids on that campus.”

Colt exhales. “Leo. That’s not your jurisdiction.”

Silence.

Colt slides his thumb across his cheekbone. “Leo.”

“We have the kids,” Leo mumbles.

“We have the kids,” Colt agrees. It’s not that they’re a burden. But they promised that they would be there, that they would be family for these children. Every single one of them is chosen, a part of their household for a reason, and Colt won’t risk that.

Neither will Leo, in the end.

Leo shudders on an exhale. “Fuck. Cap’s worried. I’m worried. Near as I can tell, finding Pawel rests on the shoulders of some kids because no one else seems to care. Or understand that it might be magical.”

“Tell Cap to offer our help if we can,” Colt encourages. “And tell Cap that if he needs space for Conor, we’ll make space here. We can rearrange. I’m pretty sure Emma would happily throw Jennie out of her room to make a place for Conor to sleep.”

Leo huffs at that. “Probably. Colt, I—”

“I know.”

They’re scared. Pawel isn’t just an old school friend. Once upon a time he was the love of Colt’s life, and he’s pretty sure it was intense with Leo, too. It was strange enough when they met, finding out that they had Pawel in common. Colt never expected it to come back like this.

Colt slips away, rising slowly as he offers his hand to Leo. When his husband stands, Colt draws him close, wrapping his arms around him, pressing his cheek against Leo’s cheek They stand there for a long moment, until the tension in Leo’s shoulders eases.

“I’ll come by to talk to Cap with you tomorrow,” Colt says. “If he’s getting in after putting Conor on the bus, he’ll probably be there right about the time I get everyone dropped off. We’ll offer whatever he needs. Okay?”

“No, but it has to be, doesn’t it?” Leo captures Colt’s hand, quietly kisses the backs of his fingertips. “We have to protect them.”

They have to protect the kids, and protect themselves. But if they can do something to help out Pawel, they will. Colt knows that’s true for both of them.

Colt takes a step, tugs on their joined hands. “Let’s go to bed.”

Because tomorrow will be another day, and they’ll look at everything with clearer eyes then. And maybe when they wake up, they’ll find out that Pawel Szczek is back as abruptly as he disappeared. Maybe they’ll get lucky.

In the meantime, they have each other, and that’s what they really need.

#welcome to phu #phu extra

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borisbubbles · 5 years

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2010s Eurovision: 385-381

385. Emmy - “Boom Boom” Armenia 2011

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Lol remember that time Armenia had to be total crap AND in a stacked semi to NQ? Good times. :)

Having said that, Emmy’s voice...😬 I mean the song is your typical braindead basic bop about boxing, which is whateverokayiguess, (we can’t afford being picky in 2011) but every time she opens her mouth it sounds like somebody choking a crowing rooster so for her benefit and ours, it’s time euthanize her from this ranking. :)

384. S!sters - “Sister” Germany 2019

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B A S I C. Painfully basic. They replaced their lazy suzan (the one thing that provided me with some lolz) and replaced it with a -of course- selfie backdrop. God, i already regret not ranking its basicbitchwhitness even lower. HATE ‘em!

Actually, hang on; Laurita is okay, in fact. She at least seemed visually embarrassed by all the BS she had to go through and well, same girl. But Carlotta, man. She was so fucking INTO it with her nauseating, twee, overearnest, friendship-bracelet-wearing, Instagram-vlogging, fake-kumbaya “LOVE YOUR [metaphorical] SISTER” BULLCRAP as if she had anything of value to say. Homegirl thinks she’s ~alternative and edgy~ and Knows What She Sings About but her actions and socio-economic status only further betray her as your average upper-middle-class white chick you never had to struggle at any point in her life. Basically the embodiment of what “Sister” represents and why I dislike it.

But whatever, I won’t dwell on it for too long, now that I’ve spewed my bile. I’m sure that when you read this, Laurita will have already deleted Carlotta off all social media, and have settle down with loved ones to live a happy, healthy life, while Carlotta will spend the next five years singing in night clubs as a Lena Meyer-Landrut tribute act. Ah, the cycle of life.

383. D Mol - “Heaven” Montenegro 2019

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What do you even want me to say about D Mol? lol. They came off as amateurs, the act made zero sense, the composition is one of the worst. If my ambition was to be objective, they would rank much, much lower. But mostly they’re just an afterthought for me because I find their brand of incompetence really boring. If only this had been a duet between Rizo and Mirula, *sigh*

382. Isaiah - “Don’t come easy” Australia 2017

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[2017 Review here] Lol "Don’t come easy” hasn’t aged well AT ALL!! All I said in 2017 still applies: Godawful staging, horrible vocal performance, a serious mismatch between the singer and the song they were assigned, Isaiah came off as a demon muppet with no charisma and the overal package did WAY too fucking well for what it was. Have fun with this collage of awful camera angles courtesy of SaboTage Baptiste:

I WILL take a moment to point how shit the story is though, since I haven’t before. Girl meets boy, boy and girl have consentual sex, boy develops feelings for girl, boy the cites a lot of personal reasons why HE can’t commit to a relationship, boy continues pulling the sob story card while never asking how girl feels, while also concern-trolling girl with “it’s not you, it’s me” prattle. To everyone out here, that’s how emotionally abusive relationships start, GET OUT OF THERE, NOW!!!.

Also I know it’s silly and largely unrelated, but I’m annoyed Australia dropped Isaiah’s surname. “Isaiah Firebrace” is a top five human name and they couldn’t even get that right; Boy I don’t miss the DNA era.

381. Marcin Mroziński - “Legenda” Poland 2010

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The first entry on this list to give me chills! Although

...it’s more like them heeby jeebies. Pro-tip, no matter how dark and messed up your lyrics are, even if the story told here is “man is rejected by a woman multiple times but VOWS to do ANYTHING to make his ‘lovely princess’ his property and then murders her”, even then, DO NOT FUCKING RE-ENACT SAID MURDER ON A GODDAMN EUROVISION STAGE. O_O Also that woman holding the apple... is that to accentuate Marcin’s even more of an asshole, or?

#Eurovision #Eurovision Song Contest #Armenia #Germany #Montenegro #Australia #Poland #Emmy #Boom Boom #S!sters #Sister #D Mol #Heaven #Isaiah #Don't Come Easy #Marcin Mrozinski #Legenda

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heedingcalls-archive · 5 years

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alright. i’ve had time to reflect and think so HERE are my thoughts on the new ch/ild’s pl/ay. if you don’t want to movie spoiled for you, ignore this. or .. ignore this if you just don’t want to hear me ramble for eight or so paragraphs.

FIRST OFF, I want to say that what Orion pictures did to Don Mancini? That was utter bullshit. That was his franchise. That’s his passion project that is still in the works, still on going, in fact. Yt made no utter sense to revamp the series other than it was for Orion to get a cash grab from one of their best selling franchises. I sympathize entirely with Don and his creative team as their work has been ignored and tossed aside for a small monetary gain. bUT -- I will try ... to separate my anger from the rest of my thoughts.

Anyway -- it’s weird to me that Chucky’s an AI at this point. But... in a way, I’m not entirely mad at it. It’s not awful but it certainly isn’t CHUCKY. Old School Chucky is a serial killing occultist, who is using a small child so he can continue to commit atrocities. He’s a total asshole and, frankly, we love him for that. He’s unapologetic in his flaws and who he is. THAT is Chucky -- that is our Charles Lee Ray. But this new one is ... definitely not that. It’s almost semi interesting? Because it is an already malfunctioning children’s toy that essentially goes even more hay-wire. On one hand, you’re almost sympathetic to the toy. As it does everything in Andy’s ‘best interest’ or it is trying to protect him. And sometimes he’s almost adorable (although he is really ugly as sin tbh i can’t ignore that fact)-- like when he is learning behaviors from Andy? Super sweet. But that isn’t Chucky. If it was something else? Maybe I wouldn’t be so salty. But it’s not the same thing and it kind of irks me that it’s now in association, if that makes sense.

I love Aubrey Plaza. I love her so much. But I don’t .... like her as our matriarch. Mostly because, while she gives a solid performance and you believe she cares for Andy, she’s borderline idiotic. I know, it’s a horror movie. Some people ARE stupid. But ??? She had NO problem taking a doll that clearly had strong issues with it -- was warned by the lady who returned said doll and then her manager? Come on, woman. What the hell. Are you even surprised that the doll strangled your cat? COME ON, KAREN. Other than her being sorta gullible and kind of stupid, I liked her. She was quick with wit, as Aubrey often is. I enjoyed her for the most part. I love og Karen Barclay more, though.

-- side note ; the surname ‘barclay’ IS NEVER SAID. EVER. but in the cast? that’s their names. I thought it was weird.

I don’t have a lot of feelings about Andy. I think it’s a little odd he’s older in this incarnation but I won’t pick at that. However, my one concern is that at the end? He’s totally happy. Like his family and friends were NOT just put in peril by a killer doll. Idk. Our main series Andy has strong issues. I feel like this Andy should at least be a little ... apprehensive, considering his situation.

Detective Norris? He’s fine. Totally fine. I loved his mother, I loved his interactions with his mother and I loved his interactions with Andy. Wouldn’t change a thing with him except mAYBE not have his mother murdered as it was totally ham-fisted in aND DOREEN DID NOTHING WRONG. She was an innocent bystander, locked in the cross hairs for DARING to call Andy her ‘best friend’. RIP DOREEN.

Andy has a group of friends. Genuinely wished we got more out of them. I would have liked them if they were fleshed out more. ALSO-- they watched Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 and I loved that part. I love that film to pieces. No complaints other than bits from the movie were played out of order but that’s me being super nit picky about it.

Mark Hamill? I loved him. I always love him. Although, maybe it’s my cynicism sinking in, he almost sounded BORED while saying his lines. Kind of monotonous. But I’m sure he had a good time with it. The best part is when he sings the ‘Buddi doll song’. I won’t fault him for that. He did what he could. And, yeah, he’s not Dourif but if I had to pick someone else? I think he’d work just fine.

The music score WAS REALLY GOOD. It sounded vaguely reminiscent of the original films and I really liked it.

I don’t think this movie has the right to classify itself along the other movies for many reasons, mostly being Don didn’t want it. But mostly because it ISN’T Chucky. It isn’t Child’s Play as it originally was. But as, like??? A movie??? Eh. It was okay. Nothing new. It kind of made me think of Small Soldiers in a way. So I didn’t hate it as a lone film. But I DO hate it in comparisons to its predecessors.

#▐ ░ OUT OF CHARACTER AND GOOD IDEAS ( ooc . )#long post #long for ts #this is messy but I NEEDED TO VENT SOMEWHERE

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kendrixtermina · 5 years

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Disclaimer For Potential Partners (f/m/x)

Writing this down as much to gather my thoughts and go into this with clear priorities as for possible future reference.

My mother always told me that if you wanted everyone to like you, you’d have to be a 50 dollar bill. I have come to accept that I’m more like licorice. Some people aren’t gonna like me but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others who would appreciate me.

I’d rather you run away screaming NOW than in three years when we’re both invested so Let’s get all this out of the way:

I’m bisexual. Yes, I’ve dated dudes in the past. I’ve had a brief online flirt with an agender person and do think androgynous ppl are hot which I suppose would make me pan in some ppl’s books, at this point the choice in label is purely aesthetic. I’m looking for a female partner right now because I’ve always had a slight preference for girls anyways but a sufficiently compatible non-female would not be refused.

Because ppl have gotten this wrong in the past: Preference is about how likely you are to notice that someone is hot in the first place like in the early stages. It doesn’t mean my attachment to those dudes was any less “real” (or the other way around!) I just flat out don’t care whats in your pants there are other things to be picky about

From since I was young, the message I got from music, books etc is that it’s pretty bad to say “I love you” unless you truly mean it. So I don’t say “I love you” until I’m 100% sure I can do that it good conscience. It seems that it takes me a bit longer to be sure than most people, but it’s not like I’ve conducted statistics on this

I’m not vegan/vegetarian and I’m never going to be vegan/vegetarian

I’m not a pet person

I’m not a sporty person and I’m never going to be a sporty person

Go through my stuff, spy on me in any way or ask me to tell you where I am at all times and its over

I’m an antiprohibitionist and don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with taking recreational substances. Conversely, I’m not interested in that sort of thing as a full-on lifestyle either.

I try to keep an open mind and try everything once but im probably not gonna reorganize my life around new age woo-woo.

So far my folks have liked most my partners, but if our social circles don’t get along I’m comfortable with leaving them separate.

I believe in judging people as individuals first. I don’t wanna hear no paranoid shit about “the muslims” or other stereotypical carricatures but if you’re gonna be “europeans that europeans this” as if im not in the room its not gonna work.

Don’t be fooled by the foreign-sounding surname im a potato through and through. No exotic fanservice to be had here.

Barring unforseen dictatorships, I don’t want to move out of Europe. I like it here. Its full of frustrating dumbasses but so is the rest of the world. Yay for cheese and consumer protection laws! I would consider moving closer to the shore though.

It’s fine if you don’t speak German but you should not hate or dislike it. English is a plus because me, my friends and my family are into internet culture

I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. No, you’re not going to patch this up. You don’t have to ignore him too if you’re not comfortable but you’ll have to respect my choice instead of playing family therapist or throwing platitudes about forgiveness at me.

Im not counting and it depends on your definition but Ive fucked at least 15-20 people, which according to statistics is above average? Always used rubber unless it was long-term and exclusive tho. That might bother some ppl.

That said it has been my conclusion that fucking does nothing that a beer can’t do and that the real quality stuff is what you could already do as a grade schooler when you still thought of all the grownup stuff as mystical. Having ice cream together, exploring new places, having contemplative conversations in the rain, telling each other your fantasies? That’s The Stuff.

Hence while I wouldn’t turn down some fuckage along the way what im looking for at this point is someone to share life and grow old with, like there doesn’t need to be the expectation of further strings but the end goal RN is to find One That Sparks Joy(TM) that will get precedence

I’m not big on material gifts or the ritual part of dating if thats important to you I might not be the ideal candidate, but if its not thats probably good for your wallet

I’m a strong introvert. Sometimes I go weeks without talking to anyone other than my boss or maybe texting my relatives. If you’re very introverted or work alot this might be an advantage. Of course if I love you I will try my best to match up to your attention needs but if you need your partner to text you 15 times every day to feel good I might just not be your cup of tea

That doesn’t mean im not interested in going on or doing new experiences. I very much hope to do that together with you just not 5 days a week - if you can’t give new things wholehearted tries things might get uncomfortable

I like spicy food and all sort of asian cousine, but if you can’t stand the sight of cheese, asparagus and sausage it’s not gonna work either. I can obviously put less chili in your portion.

I tend to talk fast and I find it hard to stop it even if I try, if that bothers you look elsewhere

I cannot stand forced optimism OR over-the top misanthropy or snobbishness. I will gush about things, but I like my dark edgy content and I stand by it. It is an advantage if you like talking about art. If you don’t like morbid humor that might be a problem

No diet talk

No perfectionism

No passive aggressive ppl or ppl that are uncomfortable with direct confrontation. That won’t work, we’d just set each other off even without meaning to and it would just be sad. If Im doing something wrong don’t expect me to notice by magic, tell me to my face so I can fix it. Don’t be hostile out of nowhere and don’t beat around the bush.

im not religious or spiritual. I don’t mind if you are but if you want to have kids and bring them up strongly-immersed in some Abrahamic faith im not sure if this is the right adress

No anti-intellectualism (no snobbery, elitism or smartassery either - as a wise pig once said, “Knowledge is a horizon to strive for, not a prize to hold in your hand” It begins with realizing what you don’t know)

Indifferent about monogamy, but I wouldn’t say that I’m the sort of person who needs non-monogamy either. If you want to we can do it (write me out some list of where you draw the lines so there’s no misunderstandings) but if you don’t it’s no biggie. I don’t care if you fuck 10 other people - for me, respect, honor and loyalty are to do with other things, like, don’t make fun of me and don’t expect me to change because one (1) person said I’m weird or whatever.

Don’t give me diseases tho. I’ll take precautions to extend the same courtesy to you.

Potential character flaws: I can be a tad sensitive, disorganized and defensive sometimes, not gonna sugarcoat it. I have no filter and curse like a sailor. Also I have zero social skills and sometimes I come across as either angry or unemotional when its really the opposite. I find that just as confusing and contradictory as that sounds, I have like zero sense of how I come off. I try to be aware of all of these and do right to everyone to the best of my ability but if you’re sensitive about any of these point someone else might be a better fit

2 kids max. I’m not sure I’ll have ANY at this point, and most certainly not in the next 5 years. IF we decide to have some later I volunteer to carry them though, I probably have good genes, my mom popped out 4 babies in 6 years with nary a complication. Besides I’d rather it was me dealing with the gross pregnancy stuff than someone I love

My favorite bedroom stuff is fingers-in-front-cavity and butt stuff. Mild sleepsex fetish but nothing super pronounced. What I don’t like or just am not very good at is top/bottom play.

So far most my partners have had somewhat stronger sex drive than me but Id argue that I very much have one and ive never refused unless I was in physical pain, severely sleep-deprived or working on some important work-related thing that was due the next day.

It’s important - and science backs me up on this - that you can freely talk to each other in n open, natural and relaxed manner

If you think im weird just do us both the favor and stay away don’t come at me with the attitude that you’re gonna mold me to your desires - even just writing this comes off kinda touchy but im saying this because some people out there really don’t get it. Like my natural tendency is to be open, courious and realistic, but some people see that as free real estate and then it falls to me to be the reasonable one and End The Madness and im tired of that.

Like I want to be able to give love and pour out all my inner romantic shit without having to be afraid of being fucked over I want to be able to trust you with my inner harley quinn as well as my inner phantom of the opera

UGH that sounded a bit tryhard didn’t it? But its the best description i could come up with

Must remember to translate this into mordor speak later

#feelings #love #datefriend acquisition project

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fantroll-purgatory · 6 years

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@genesisaberrance

Alternia or Beforus or some type of AU?: Alternia! She straight up wouldn’t work on Beforus.

Name (preferably include how you came up with it and why): Saskia Ivenen. This doesn’t actually have any relevance- Whenever I don’t have any ideas for symbolic troll names, I just kinda… smash two syllables together. While I’m somewhat attached to Saskia now, I’d be very interested in a potential different last name!

I’m really picky about name meanings sometimes, but I know what it’s like to be attached to a name- I think Saskia can be decently kept around. It does happen to be an actual name, but an uncommon enough one that I won’t give you a strike for it. It also means “protector of mankind,” which is a funny contrast to her actual nature. I think it’s a nice call to what her role SHOULD be. Also in the series LOST GIRL, a character named Aife takes on the name Saskia in order to manipulate and trick the main character. So there’s a neat little reference.

For surname I’m going to do Semele. This is because Semele is the mother of Dionysus, with the added benefit that Semele’s parents, Harmonia and Cadmus, both turned into serpents.

Saskia Semele also has a nice, snaky alliteration to it.

Age:Varies, but it’s highly doubtful she lived to be especially old, for her caste or otherwise. She probably died somewhere around 25 sweeps or so, with my personal headcanon being that Rainbow Drinkers are functionally immortal unless something or someone actively kills them and that trolls in general live a lot longer than humans do. Of note is that she’s ancestor-era, not Karkat and crew era.

I definitely agree about rainbowdrinkers being functionally immortal. They’re vampires, after all, and their longevity does make sense. Jadebloods for sure would generally outlive humans, too, but not all trolls do. Burgundybloods, for example, live about 30-60 years, and the lifespan increases in graduated steps. That’s just a little trivial sidenote! But yeah her being ancestor-era would justify her still being on-planet even as an adult.

Strife Specibus:Undecided, but my current leaning is towards bladekind, with her specifically utilising daggers most of the time. If you’ve got any other ideas, i’d be interested to hear them!

Daggers are a nice and fast weapon. I think staffkind might be more themeatically sound, because you could have her use a Thyrsus. That’s the neat staff topped with a pinecone that Dionysus used as a weapon.

Or, hear me out, you could have her use a weighted net like a Retiarius? That’s a gladiator who wielded a specific set of weapons, but I really am mostly interested in the net. You say she likes to avoid fights when she can, so a primary weapon that focuses on escape seems like a good idea. You could still use daggerkind as a Last Resort sort of weapon. I just think she could get into all kinds of neat and unique high jinks with a net. This is a bit of a sloppy connection to draw, but a lot of people associate gladiatorial combat with hedonism- think of the image of the Roman emperor lying back being fed grapes while judging the gladiators.

Fetch Modus: Literally no idea. No clue. You guys have no idea how frustrating thinking of a fetch modus for my characters is for me, please help, I’m begging, please, snakes have manifested physically in my home,

Picking a fetch modus is a pretty tricky stumbling block for a lot of people. Don’t worry, it’s why we’re here to help!

For a funnier jokier modus you could do Peanut Brittle Modus, as a reference to the snake-in-a-peanut-brittle-can goof people like to do. Her item is placed into a can and she has to attempt to open it and get startled by the Fakey Snakes if she picks wrong. …Or real snakes if you wanted. Snakes could literally manifest in her home. You have the power.

Additionally, you could use a Greed Modus. A modus that requires her to always have something in the inventory and won’t spit an item out if it’s the only thing in there, and that requires her to trade items of equal value.

Blood color: Jadeblood! She ran away from the Caverns, though, finding them far too restricting and… well, boring. She was pretty young, so it felt like far more of a good idea at the time.

Symbol and meaning:Her symbol is the alchemical symbol for Sulphur, often associated with Brimstone. My intention was to hint at, but not wholly embrace, a theme of corruption, vice, and sin– Saskia is not a good person, and her hedonism takes some pretty awful forms at places. This is also the intention behind her lusus, and her quirk.

I’ll be updating this to match what we know about the 288 canon symbols, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it down at the bottom.

Trolltag:dionysusDistilled. Dionysus being the Greek god of wine, fertility, madness, and ecstasy. The fertility part isn’t super important there, and while this association isn’t actually perfect when compared to the literal legends, Dionysus kinda has this place as being kinda-sorta culturally relevant, and the ‘wine and madness’ portions of his domain are far more pronounced in pop culture. Distilled has a dual meaning- both another reference to alcohol, as a sideways reference to hedonism in general, as well as the implication that Saskia takes all the good parts from the god, distilling him down into his core essence. This was intended to hint at her arrogance, but I’ll admit it is a little bit clumsy.

I do really enjoy the concept behind this trolltag a Whole lot. The meaning and everything is very fitting for the character you’re going for. Another I could potentially recommend might be lilithianApple. Lilith being mythological figure who is sometimes reported as Adam’s first wife and in some tellings of the story might’ve been the serpent to tempt Eve with the apple (thus making the apple a reference to this, but I also intended it as a reference to Eris’ golden apple). Lilith’s name is a reference to being a demon of the night and she’s sometimes portrayed as a cannibalistic spirit, so it fits the whole rainbowdrinker thing, too.

Quirk: Fairly simple one– she doubles every lower-case ’s’, unless it’s already doubled in a word (such as, for instance, ‘unless’, which already has two lower-case s in it)., and she replaces every upper-case S with a dollar sign. The former being to reinforce the snake theme, in turn leaning on the corruption and vice theme, and the latter being an extremely overt and straightforward reference to her enjoyment of material objects and opulence in general.

Special Abilities (if any):Hoo boy, bear with me for a second, because this leans heavily on my own headcanons. So… Saskia has fairly strong hypnosis. It isn’t mind control, and while she can implant suggestions and the like, it typically takes a form more like, uh… you know Kaa, from the old cartoon Jungle Book? That. Maintaining eye contact, she can put people into a trance, and make them more suggestible. Depending on who I’m writing with, this is actually usually a jadeblood thing, albeit not a thing all jadebloods can do- with the Maryams being notable examples of jades who have no latent hypnotic abilities. Otherwise, it’s just a thing that she can do. I fully expect you might disagree with me on this, but I am pretty set on keeping it.

I dddefinitely have a disagreement with this, but rules Are made to be broken and despite Kanaya stating that jadebloods really don’t get any beneficial psychic powers, it’s Always possible for there to be special cases. I do like the fact that it’s a reference to Kaa. And I DO think it’s an interesting concept. Maybe you could work it as… after she becomes a rainbowdrinker? Vampires in mythology are REALLY OFTEN shown to have charming and even hypnotizing abilities to trick their prey. So she could be a very rare rainbowdrinker who was lucky enough to develop that sort of ability. You could work it as an example of a vampiric power instead of a jadeblood thing.

Lusus: Giant snake! I flip-flop back and forth between it just being a massive snake, or it having feathers, but ultimately a feathered snake is actually a Thing in certain mythologies, and that thing has nothing to do with Saskia’s themes, so I’ve tentatively dropped it.

Just a snake feels a Little too plain here. I think maybe a hydra? I know they’re very water associated, but they’re still A Snake, so I think it’s alright. The relative immortality of the snake references her rainbowdrinker nature- kill it and it’ll come right back and all that. But the fact that it has multiple heads can also metaphorically represent her being two-faced.

Personality: Manipulative asshole, basically. She’s pretty much completely amoral, though she shies away from major bloodshed or strife personally due to not wanting to die, and she’s self-serving and narcissistic. Saskia is not a nice person, she makes her living by staying in the hives of the recently-deceased until someone comes around to do something about it, at which point she scarpers. Despite that, she can be pretty charming, needing to manipulate people into just… not killing her, even if she doesn’t succeed all the time in getting them to actively help. Tends to adopt a bit of a drawl, a bit of a ‘giggling flirt’ angle to her demeanour, but that drops the second she doesn’t need it in favour of a more calculating, cold air to her. She’s essentially a scavenger, just one that’s perfected the art of scavenging high quality stuff. Sometimes she’ll stay in high-quality hotels, and simply hypo-charm her way out of paying, but that’s pretty dangerous so she doesn’t do it all that much.

Interests: Things. She likes feeling comfortable and wealthy, she likes being pampered, and she likes looking pretty. She’s vain, she’s shallow, and she’s greedy. Also has a fondness for trashy romance novels, more as a source of comedy than wish fulfillment.

Title: “The Hedonist” fits pretty well, but I admit that it’s fairly generic. I’m interested in ideas!

You could do The Epicurea for something directly related but a little less generic. Epicurean thought is just a body of hedonist philosophy. The Voluptas could work for similar reasons, Voluptas being the goddess of pleasure/hedonism.

I’m gonna skip those last two, because she never played sBurb– she died long before the meteors fell.

I’m going to assign her a theoretical title and moon just for the purposes of picking out a symbol for her. I think the game would theoretically REALLY want her to develop and learn… so her role might end up being Seer of Blood. Learning to understand responsibility and relationships, all that fun stuff. She’d also probably be a Dersite player. Everything combined, that makes her new sign:

Vircen, the sign of the Liable. It’s really fun in contrast with her Behavior And Attitude.

Art credit goes to carminearts.tumblr.com by the way! Lovely person, I owe her a great debt.

Oh, sorry about this being from an RP blog, by the way– I don’t have a personal, and my OC RP blog is both deeply nsfw and also a sideblog, so I can’t submit from it.

No worries!

Thank you for your time, I look forward to seeing your thoughts!

I’ve really enjoyed looking at her! Time to go onto some design notes!:

Horns: I switched them up to match the new symbol as well as the hooked horn for jadebloods rule.

Hair: I played around with poofing it up a little? I think I still like your original design better, but I do think it could use a little more Troll-brand Spike.

Mouth: I gave her defined lips because all jadebloods are shown to have them.

Jacket: So while I was working on this design I realized we’d never really played around with the idea of someone exploiting social rules for their benefit, so I thought this was the perfect place to do that. You said she’s a scavenger who likes scavenging the finer things and I think she could easily use that to get away with slightly more daring fashion approaches. Such as wearing a Violetblood’s jacket to make it seem like she might have a violetblood in one of her quadrants. The jewelry was added for similar reasons, as well as a little Decadence imagery.

Shirt: And of course there’s her new symbol.

I like her a lot! Thank you for sharing this rude girl.

-CD

#genesisaberrance #saskia ivenen #saskia semele #jadeblood #rainbowdrinker #review #redesign #cd review #submission

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