#'I woke up to the smell of... freshly baked bread?'

[tfshouldidohere]

good morning to all my moots n non-moots <33!!

#woke up today with the house smelling like freshly baked banana bread #only to find out my little cousin ate it all 💔 #unfortunately im not allowed to bully 9yr olds 💔 #i luv it wnvr my grandma bakes yall #its so comforting 💞💞 #TFShouldIRambles

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 6/8

Yeah, it keeps getting worse and worse 🙃

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Living with Ruben was not like you imagined it to be. The guestroom where you stayed was practically a master bedroom. But having previously slept on a pull-out couch when sharing apartments with Ester, you were undoubtedly grateful. However, Ruben was never home. His match and training schedule was busier than yours. Sometimes days would pass where you were completely left alone in his apartment. Your heart sank once you realized that when Ruben wasn't at home or training he was probably spending time with his girlfriend. He did say that whatever the two of you had was a mistake. But there would be nights when Ruben would come home late from game, slip into your bed and wrap his arms around you until the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms.

Ruben also had rules for your stay. Rules that any girl who wasn't as desperate as you, might have seen as red flags. Most of the rules were understandable, like don't leave the apartment around the same time as he did, and don't post pictures of you in the apartment or anywhere near it. However, there was one rule you just couldn't wrap your head around and this rule involved the locked door down the hall from your bedroom. You had mistaken it for an additional bathroom, but when Ruben caught you yanking the doorhandle he got angry and snapped at you to never go near the door again. But like you said, you were desperate for a place to stay, ignoring the internal warnings. Not even your parents knew about what went down between you and Ester. They would never know. All you wanted to do was fulfill your dreams of playing football, staying with Ruben reassured that.

"Morning, beautiful. Did you sleep well?"

You woke up to the memories of last night. The smell of freshly baked bread brought you out of bed and into the kitchen. Ruben stood behind the counter, whisking something in a bowl. He was bare chested, wearing sweatpants only. Grey sweatpants, revealing more than was appropriate.

"Morning." You mumbled and climbed to sit on the stool next to the counter. To your suprise Ruben stopped what he was doing, leand forward and kissed you.

"You look grumpy, why?" He asked.

You shrugged. "Just tired, I guess."

Ruben kept you up all night. The two of you had done more than cuddle last night. You had sex, all of it initiated by Ruben who came into your room after another late return from an away game. The sex was good but it made you wonder how serious the relationship between Ruben and his girlfriend was. And who were you to Ruben, his mistress?

"Care for some breakfast? I got bread freash from the oven. I'm also making some protein pancakes."

"Sure Ruben, thanks."

The day after an away game was usually Ruben's day off. He had time to stay and make breakfast, serving you a plate of the tastiest pancakes you've ever had.

"They're amazing." You said, wiping your mouth with a napkin.

"Nice to see them bring back that smile I love on you." He stretched out to caress your cheek, wiping some crumbs off the corner of your mouth. "Mist a spot." He brought back his thumb from your face and into his mouth. Your heart flared watching him suck the tip off it, his brown eyes never leaving yours as he did.

You cleared your throat. "Ruben, about last night."

He smirked, the thought amusing to him.

"I thought you said..."

"I know what I said Y/N." He nodded. "It won't happen again. I was just happy about the win. It was an important game for the team."

You had watched it on TV. The win had granted Manchester City a slot into the round of sixteen teams fighting for the Champions League.

"I get that, but you told me that you have a girlfriend. Sleeping with me makes you a cheater Ruben. "

He snorted. "I don't think so. Cheaters never win and I won last night, both on and off the pitch."

You were stunned for words. With time you had gotten to know Ruben a bit better and like anyone he had different sides to him, sides you weren't all too keen on exploring. You thought it might jeopardize your relationships if you questioned his ethics too much. Or worse, Ruben might stop helping you improve your football.

"Which time are you leaving for training?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Two, I'll be there all afternoon."

"Alright, I'll give you a ride."

"Really?"

You watched him get up and wipe his hands on a cloth.

"You're surprised?"

"Well, won't someone see us?"

He smiled. "My car windows are tinted, Y/N. Besides, I'll be dropping you off a block away from the Ethiad."

Your heart sank. "Oh, of course."

Training went well that afternoon. Perhaps too well. You had feard facing Ester again  after her lame threats to tell on you and Ruben to the club. However, Ruben insisted that you shouldn't worry about her, and you hadn't. But the fact that Ester completely alienated you during trainings, caused you slight paranoia.

"Listen up!" Coach said, gathering the players as he blew his whistle. "I have a few call ups for the first team's game this weekend, so listen carefully. Fowler..."

"Yes!" A girl hissed.

Coach continued reading from his list "James..."

"Yes!" Another girl cheered.

"....Dawson, Espinosa, Philips, Adilović..." It must be a friendly, you thought. The majority of girls were getting called up. "...Richards and Hofman."

The majority of girls, except for you.

"But coach?" You protested. The session was over. You trailed after your him as he walked off the pitch.

"I'm sorry Y/N, but my hands are tied." He said.

What exactly was that suppose to mean?

"But coach I'm not sick anymore." You thought back to your little spew fest during a forgettable training session with the first team. "It was one time. I'm better now, I swear."

Coach seized to walk, turning to you. He looked conflicted. "Look. I'm very sorry Y/N, but like I said, my hands are tied. Perhaps the first team didn't find you performance that impressing this month?"

He left you with those words.

Impossible, you thought. You played excellent this month. You even managed to gain a few pounds with the diet Ruben put you on. You were strong enough to pass any defender, let alone the defenders in the first team. It was all impossible.

"Can you believe it, they picked Ester but not me." You told Ruben about your day. You were a bit suprised to still find him at the apartment. After all, it was his day off. Was his girlfriend sick or something?

"I wouldn't dwell too much about that Y/N. Like you said, it's probably just a friendly game against another Super League team."

"Yes, but I could use the experience." You sighed, plotting down beside Ruben on the coach. His arms stretched across your shoulders, railing you in. "You'll get it in time." He said, kissing the top of your head. "Just be patient."

It was nice, being held by him. The TV was showing a documentary about rhinoceros' and you easily got swept away by it, resting comfortably against Ruben's chest. However, a thought came to mind as your eyes darted around his apartment. "Ruben, I was just wondering," You said, voice a little hesitant. "Why aren't there any personal items in your apartment. No photos, no nothing?" It was strange really.

Ruben's expression changed, his eyes darting around the room as if he was searching for something. "Oh, that," he said, his voice evasive. "I just like to keep things simple. I don't really have any family or friends to speak of."

Oh."

You felt a wave of unease wash over you. Something about Ruben's answer didn't sit right. "What do you mean you don't have any family or friends?" You pressed on, because you had met one of them and his name was Bernardo. You raised your head from his chest, meeting Ruben's eyes, and for a moment, You saw something in them that made your heart race. It was a look of pure terror, as if he was trapped in a nightmare and couldn't escape.

"I, uh, I just don't like to talk about it," he stammered, his eyes darting away. "Can we just forget about it and enjoy this movie or whatever. Why are you asking me so many questions anyway?"

A chill ran down her spine. You had never seen Ruben like this before, and you didn't like it one bit. But you also didn't want to push him too hard, so you nodded and went back to watching the documentary with him, ending the night this way.

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst

[ficnation]

Chapter 1: A Delightful Encounter

Series: “The Heart Wants What It Wants” 

Word count: 1,0k+

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Baker! Reader

Warnings: none

A/n: I had so much fun writing this! All chapters will be around 1k or 2k words. This is also my first entry to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: writer’s choice - first meeting)! Events Masterlist

Let me know your thoughts and please reblog.

Main Masterlist 

Mayans MC Masterlist

NEXT CHAPTER

Angel enters the new bakery, his boots making a slight thud as he crosses the wooden floor. His eyes take in the cozy atmosphere and the pale green hue of the walls while the mouth-watering scents of baking bread and pastries tickle his nostrils. The interior is inviting, and the various tables and chairs in the central area provide a comfortable spot to sit and enjoy one's treats. He can’t help but feel slightly out of place. He sticks out like a sore thumb in his leather kutte and body decorated by tattoos.

He takes a moment to appreciate the homey vibe of his surroundings before heading toward the counter. He gazes at the array of baked goods, hypnotized by the view of colorful muffins, cakes, fresh golden buns, and loaves of bread. 

The person working behind the counter greets him in a friendly tone adorned by a pinch of shyness. The man in the leather kutte, his face obscured by the chunky dark sunglasses, merely nods in reply and gives a small wave. He feels the employe observing him as he tries to decide what to purchase.

Felipe sent him over early in the morning to get some freshly baked bread for breakfast. It was barely eight, and he’d give everything to be back in his bed, snoring away. His eyes were closing up on the ride here, but the smells of the bakery woke him up in seconds. 

Angel quickly peruses the selection of baked goods, his hand striding over the glass display case but not touching its surface. His gaze lands on a shiny, golden-brown loaf of bread, and his eyes light up. 

He looks back at the person behind the counter and nods once more, pointing toward the product before his brain finally registers the vision before him. He freezes in his spot, brown orbs glued to your delicate silhouette as you lean down to reach inside the display. 

You’re breathtakingly beautiful, standing there with a friendly smile, your eyes shining and dark eyelashes fluttering with every blink. Your hair is braided and thrown over your shoulder, the soft tresses swaying delicately against it with every movement. It’s as if every part of you is a work of art meant to be admired and appreciated. And as you continue to smile at Angel, he can’t help but be enthralled by your grace. You don’t even seem to be bothered by the early hour—there’s absolutely no trace of dark circles under your eyes. 

You take out the loaf of bread, wrapping it quickly in a dark green wax cloth. The man keeps staring as you nudge it toward him and state the price. He takes out his wallet and fumbles with it for a minute before he finally manages to find the 10$ bill and hands it to you. 

You take his ten dollars, put it in the register, and then place his change on the counter. His heart does a backflip as you part your lips to speak up. They seem so soft and plump. “Here you go, sir. Your change,” you say, pointing towards the stack of bills and coins.

“Nah, it’s fine. Keep it as a tip,” he replies, waving you off as he slides the change back to you, only taking the wrapped-up bread from the wooden surface.

You look surprised but insist, “Sir, you gave me too much. It’s too much just for a loaf of bread.” He can tell you have a good heart.

Angel thinks for a moment, then grins wildly, no ounce of hesitation left. “Not just for the bread. It’s for your great service.”

You’re flustered, your cheeks getting warmer with every passing moment—with every playful quirk of his lips. The man isn’t giving in as he flashes you another charming smile. You’re speechless. There was no point in resisting even though you didn’t think you did much that could be considered “great service”. You just smiled and served him his purchase; you do it all the time.

The corner of your peach-colored lips quirks up shyly as you finally nod your head in thanks. You take out one fluffy blueberry muffin from the display and place it on the counter in front of him. “Consider it a token of my appreciation then.” 

A beat of silence falls between the two of you as you stare at each other, enjoying the light tension that sends sparks down your body. The man is almost beaming with pride at his own charm, while you’re wondering what lies beneath those dark shades. The fact that you can’t see his eyes is infuriating—eyes are the window to the soul, after all. Just when you manage to regain your composure, he speaks up again.

“Tell you what,” Angel says, his voice low and confident. “I’d love to stop by again, just to see your smile.”

You give him exactly what he wants as you smile brightly at his words, feeling your cheeks flush with heat even more—you didn’t even think it was possible. “Of course, you’re welcome here any time,” you reply.

The man nods happily. “Great,” he says, a grin stretching across his face. “I’ll be sure to stop by often. I’m a sucker for delicious pastries and beautiful smiles.”

You’re taken aback by his words but appreciate the kindness. A warm, happy feeling bubbles within you—a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time. You are surprised that a man like him—the complete opposite of what you were usually looking for in a romantic partner—can make you feel weak in the knees by such a brief interaction.

“And I’d be thrilled to have you stop by again,” you stammer out, finding yourself lost in the pull of his presence. There’s a sparkle of excitement in your voice that only fuels his smugness. 

The man chuckles, unable to hide his delight, as he turns around and starts walking toward the exit. When he reaches for the door handle, you quickly lean over the counter and call out to him. He turns around, surprise painted on his face, and you’re just as taken aback as he is at your sudden holler. 

“What’s your name?” you ask, tapping your fingers on the wooden surface in anticipation. It’s new to you, breaking the barriers of your shyness for someone you just met, but it feels so right.

The stranger lifts up his sunglasses to his forehead for a second, looking you up and down. You’re instantly mesmerized by the rich brown color of his eyes. You feel them luring you in—hypnotizing you. You’re surprised you're even able to catch the words that leave his mouth. 

“Angel,” he replies, setting the sunglasses back on his nose. You already find yourself missing his gaze on your person. “Take care of yourself, dulce.”

Taglist: @danzer8705

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x female reader #angel reyes imagines #angel reyes #Mayans MC #mayans #mayansmc #writing challenge #the slumber party #the slumber party's bingo event

[threehardcandy]

Cinnamon roll

Had a lot cinnamon roll talking on my twt today, wrote a Little short Drarry story (maybe more like an idea with drafts?) with cinnamon roll .

English is not my first Language.

Good cook Draco and Auror Harry. 

_____________________________________

Draco has excellent cooking skills, but due to his identity as a Death Eater, he can't come to daily work, so he secretly develops new recipe for some restaurants. Harry and Draco are in love relationship for a year, Harry had Draco move to Grimmauld Place to live with him, Draco said yes.

To keep Draco safe, Harry announced his love relationship with Draco, no one dare to harass Draco after that. 

Draco has just moved to Grimmauld Place, first day after Draco settled all his belongings, he start to work. 

This night, Harry has been dealing with criminals all day, exhausted and returning home from work. His stomach is growling, Auror's work takes too much enengry. No wonder his colleagues have a big appetite, and the working meals at the Ministry of Magic are not enough.

As soon as Harry stepped out of the floo, he was stunned. The entrance hall of Grimmauld Place is filled with a sweet baking smell.

Harry walked to the dining room, Draco is busy with something on the kitchen table，a plate of cinnamon rolls sat besides him. He swallowed, Draco turned around and looked at Harry. 

He asked Harry:"It's late, have you eaten yet?"

Harry said: "I've had it in the Ministry." 

Draco watches Harry staring at the cinnamon rolls, he turned around, and took a plate and a fork, pick up a cinnamon roll on the plate, scooped up a spoonful of fresh vanilla cream and placed it next to the plate, he set plate in front of Harry, then said, "I'm trying a new flavor and made a whole batch of cinnamon rolls, they're all yours. Eat."

Harry looked at Draco, swallowed, and he began to eat.

The sweetness of apples and the aroma of cinnamon danced on Harry's tongue, and the soft bread filled his mouth.

When Harry finished washing up and went to bed, Draco had already lay down. Harry hugged Draco from behind and rubbed his shoulder with his nose.

Draco's voice was blurry: "You eat so much sweets, did you brush your teeth carefully?"

Harry nodded against Draco's shoulder, Draco patted his furry head. Harry closed his eyes with satisfaction.

In the morning, Harry woke up in the smell of butter filled the room and saw Draco had already up.

The table was filled with food, a giant pot of green juice, a row of croissant that were still hot, probably freshly baked. There were two plates of smoked beef and bacon, and fried eggs in the pan.

Harry thought about how early Draco had to get up to make these things in the morning.

Draco turned around and found Harry standing at the entrance in his pajamas, he urging："Oh, you're up. Change your clothes now, you're going to be late."

Harry changed his clothes and walked to the dining room while putting on his Auror coat.

He said to Draco:"Hey, I may not have time for breakfast..."

Then Draco stuffed a large paper bag into Harry's arms and push him to the floo. "Breakfast is in the paper bag, don't be late. Chop chop!"

When Harry sat besides the office table, Harry opened the paper bag Draco gave him. Inside was a croissant sandwich with fried egg, bacon and smoked beef, a cup of fresh latte, a cinnamon roll, all a warming spell, and a bottle of green juice, cold.

There is also a note with Draco's pretty handwriting: breakfast - croissant and coffee, kale and apple juice after lunch, cinnamon rolls for afternoon tea, just in case you're hungry. Don't eat them all at once!>:(

Harry came home from work at night, today he didn't feel so tired, perhaps because he had eaten a cinnamon roll that Draco made in the afternoon.

Harry walked to the dining room and saw Draco sitting alone at the dining table.

As soon as he saw Harry, he stand up at once also try to slow his voice for some dignity, he drawls: "Have you eaten yet?"

Harry said:"I've eaten at the Ministry." 

Draco frowned:"What did you eat?" 

"My usual, chickpea sandwich, some fries."

Draco snorted with anger:"I'm going to sue the Ministry of Magic, their food is simply abusive of employees..." He waved his wand, steak, grilled vegetables, mashed potatoes, red wine, apple pie, and other foods flew out of the kitchen closet and oven, "Especially Aurora is the most important force in protecting the wizarding world, they must not be malnourished!"

"It's not like we are malnutrition..." Harry watched the red wine opened itself and poured into the glass set up on the table, his voice decreasing.

Harry has never had such a full and delicious meal before.

Late at night, Harry wrapped himself around Draco, rubbed his neck, and whispered: "No one has ever done this for me before. Thank you, Draco."

Draco gently caressed Harry's face, his silver eyes shining like moonlight. He whispered: "I will take good care of you."

Harry turned his face slightly and kissed Draco's palm, saying: "Me too."

They cuddled into sleep.

#drarry #hpdm #draco malfoy #harry potter

[dailyunstableeve]

Fluff and Angst

Shadowheart x reader (no specific gender)

My maladaptive daydream made me write this. No proofread.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

You woke up with Shadowheart next to you, you couldn't tell how long she was looking at you sleeping. You didn't question anything and just pull her closer to you, snuggle up with her, embracing her warmth. This isn't the first time you wake up with Shadowheart looking at you, you remembered the first time, she told you, “you look so adorable when you sleep and I want to take in the peace we fight so hard to get and now we're here next to each other with nothing to worried about.”

Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and both of you drifted back to the dreams with you in her arms. 

When you wake up again, you're no longer in the embrace of Shadowheart. You were in confusion for a few minutes until you smelled the scent of freshly baked bread, the bittersweet of coffee’s scent coming from the kitchen. You quickly wash up yourself and skip your way towards the kitchen, excited like always to eat Shadowheart’s cooking. 

“Look who finally woken up,” you made your way next to Shadowheart, she gave you a quick morning kiss and passed you a plate of mixed fruits, you made your way to the back door and got welcomed by all of the animals both you and Shadowheart adopted. 

“Good morning to you all,” you chuckled as you watched all of them circling around you, you picked a space and placed the fruit plate on the floor. The pets couldn't wait anymore, they were already digging in. 

You returned to Shadowheart, hugging her from her back, planting soft kisses on her neck, wondering when the breakfast would be done. You turn into a koala bear, you cling onto Shadowheart everywhere she goes until both of you are seated down by the dining table. 

After breakfast, Shadowheart and you will have only different duties, she will be grooming the pets while you'll be cleaning up the house. 

You looked at the art portraits of you and Shadowheart painted for each other by the fireplace while you're cleaning. You remembered that day, both of you used the shade of the tree to block out the sun, holding hands, watching the pets running free on the field. You brought out the paints and two empty canvases, challenging her to paint, then let the pet pick who painted better. 

You painted the colourful flower field with Shadowheart standing in the middle, how the wind gently blowing by, lifting the silk of the dress along with it, Shadowheart had her hair down, white as snow, pure, looking like a princess who finally discovered freedom. 

As for Shadowheart, she painted the moment when you, her and all the other party members reunited again, the joy on your face, the hair that she braided for you that night, the perfect details. 

The competition was a close call when Shadowheart asked all the pets to pick who’s the winner. Shadowheart won the competition because of the squirrel she adopted a few months ago. The squirrel has been your little enemy since then, all because she kept on sticking onto Shadowheart whenever you wanted to hang out with her. Months passed, you and the squirrel made peace, all thanks to the speak to animal potion, both of you talk out the terms. 

Time flies fast when you’re focused, the chores have been done so you and Shadowheart decided to sit out at the bench, enjoying the afternoon breeze. You rested on Shadowheart’s shoulder as she rested on top of your head, enjoying the cold tea you have brewed while cleaning up the house. 

Since Shadowheart had made breakfast for the day, you take the turn to cook dinner. Shadowheart would sit on the counter, sipping her favourite wine, drinking the sight of you cooking. Whenever you pass her just to grab something, you will take a chance to steal a few kisses from her. Meantime, she will tell you about all the adorable things the pets did during the day, and you can hear the pets responding to Shadowheart’s comments from their shed just by the kitchen window, you will just laugh along because Shadowheart will try to argue back with the pets while she basically on the losing side but that doesn’t stop them to have a cute interaction. 

After dinner, both of you will take a walk by the beach, taking off the shoes, allowing the sea to brush through both of your feet, the coldness that brings refreshment. Holding hands, walking next to each other, Shadowheart would look at you with those lovely eyes, listening to every word you say, perhaps some old story you haven’t told her yet, she listens to it all. 

You and Shadowheart ended your day filled with activities, it’s time to hit the bed. The squirrel will be sleeping in above both yours and Shadowheart’s head, you feel the warmth from Shadowheart’s hand, running gently on your arm, causing a little tickling sensation. You would try to ask her to stop, despite you enjoying it, having Shadowheart’s touch on you, makes you feel alive, belonged. 

You snuggled up to Shadowheart, you could hear her calm heartbeat, like a lullaby. Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and fell asleep together. 

Morning arrived, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone on your bed. You got out from your bed, washing up yourself then sit in front of your study table, turning on your computer, staring at your screen as a voice played, 

“Good, I was just starting to miss the sound of your voice.”

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #shadowheart x reader #shadowheart fanfic #shadowheart fluff #shadowheart #shadowheart fic

[daquila]

Satoru’s Birthday Surprise! || Gojo Satoru x Reader

synopsis: in which you and your students surprise Satoru with a painting!

part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/daquila/717999046671925248/happy-birthday-toru-gojo-x-reader

Satoru is not the person that you really know.

He is independent, cocky, and loud around anyone— especially the higher-ups! But with you? He completely melts as he steps into your shared home.

But he’s also unpredictable.

The smell of freshly-cooked pasta lures him into the kitchen, only to be greeted by an eager Y/N that’s ready to knead some dough. You were attempting to bake a loaf of garlic bread since it would go well with your tomato-basil pasta. It was a recipe from the cookbook that Nanami gave you on your 25th birthday.

Normally, you wouldn’t really cook pasta so early in the morning; however, Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji are visiting later that afternoon. It was because of your husband’s birthday.

“ The kids are about to come inside— they’re just picking up some extra ice cream at the grocery store nearby, “ Satoru said as he hugs you from behind, pressing soft kisses on your shoulders and neck.

“ ‘Toru, please change out of those pajamas, “ you scolded, staring at his spider-man suit. The sorcerer proceeded to pout as he quickly took it off and replaced it with a button up shirt and pants.

“ Why! Did you want to gatekeep spidertoru! It’s MY birthday, “ he proceeded to complain as you scoffed and placed the dough in a pan.

The sorcerer heard giggles coming from the front door, assuming it were the three, he quickly ran to greet them.

Nobara and Yuji were carrying heaps of snacks, because they didn’t want Megumi holding anything. Apparently, they lost a silly bet while training with Inumaki and Panda. Megumi sure is receiving top-tier princess treatment!

“ Ah— ‘Toru, please hand them some drinks! I made some orange juice earlier, “ quickly shoving the dough in the oven, you started to clean the messy kitchen.

The students began greeting their teacher a happy birthday, and your husband delightfully greeted the treats into his mouth. They all gathered in the living room to play board games.

Megumi, who clearly just woke up from the car ride, helped you clean up. His head was still in the clouds, clinging onto that thread of sleepiness.

“ Shoo! Shoo! I don’t need your help, Megumi. Go have fun with your friends— I’ll be right here if you need me, “ breaking the silence, he just looks at you and nods. You just smile in reply— it’s his habit of staying silent when he’s still sleepy.

You proceeded to walk into the living room, carrying assortments of different types of pastas, croissants, and treats. The oven suddenly chimes as you settle the last tray of food.

“ Y/N’s bread tastes amazing while it’s still piping hot— my wife is such a chef, “ Satoru smirks, stuffing his mouth with a croissant.

“ Stop talking while eating, Gojo-sensei, “ Nobara scoffed, disgusted as she watched her teacher choke on his food. Megumi stands up and walks to your bedroom, finding the still-life that you and the students painted last time.

Satoru’s eyes melt into a softer expression once his student (and son) hands him the painting.

“ Is this for me? “ he says, hands clutching his chest.

Nobara then proudly boasts about her contribution to the painting as Yuji urges their teacher to open it.

But then something unexpected happens…

Your husband breaks out in an uncontrollable wail.

Chest heavy, nose running with yellow snot, he dramatically says, “ T-t-th-tha-thank….. y-yew…. “

He is the literal embodiment of a tall child.

You grab a box of tissues and wipe off the drama on his face. Nobara quickly takes out her phone and steals a picture of the sobbing sorcerer. I mean— who wouldn't! Megumi takes a mental note to remind himself to post that photo of Gojo crying.

For the next few hours, you and your students spend the time by absolutely destroying their teacher in a game of Monopoly. Satoru, however, would spend these next few hours thinking about how grateful he is to have you by his side.

didnt proof read bc i never do … this is probably my longest fic yet

i have had this in my drafts for so long… i just decided to post this now bc ive got two requests for the part 2 already hehehehe

#gojo sensei #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk megumi #jjk nobara #jjk yuuji #jjk fic #jjk drabbles #fushiguro megumi #itadori yuuji #nobara fluff #gojo #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #gojo satoru fluff

[jungle-angel]

I always get so excited when I see your prompt lists. I also always have such a hard time choosing because they’re all always so good!

I’m requesting two this time 😂 freshly baked breads and Making the house super cozy with Nat please??

EEEEEEEPP!!!! Sylvie, Sylvie my love, you know I'd be more than happy to do this for you!!! (lol).

The first frost of the year still coated the ground, the skies looking overcast as ever and giving your yard a big helping of spooky even though it was only late September. Your hands kept working away at the grainy, doughy mixture in the bowl, kneading it until everything was properly mixed together.

"Still workin at it sweet cheeks?" Natasha asked, folding up one of the throw blankets and draping it over the back of the couch.

"Been working at it since I woke up," you told her. "I've got two more that need to go into the oven and this one which needs to proof."

Natasha cracked a bit of a smile as she kept folding up the blankets and setting out all the stuff for fall. As soon as the dough was ready to proof, you stuck it in the warmest spot you could find, took the other two out and plopped them right into the loaf pans to bake, coating them over in just a little bit of egg before sticking them into the oven.

"Which one's first?" Natasha asked.

"The cranberry one," you told her.

"Oooooh," Natasha groaned. "That's gonna smell real good."

You spent the entire morning making the house as cozy as possible with lots of reds, oranges, yellows, browns and pine greens and soon the whole house had begun to smell good with the loaves baking away in the oven. The coffee maker was soon brewing away with a cinnamon pastry coffee streaming into two cups, filling the whole kitchen alongside the scent of the bread.

Out of the oven came the cranberry loaf and in went the rosemary and olive oil and the overwhelmingly grainy one you had worked at earlier. You coated the cranberry one in a powdered sugar glaze, serving you and Natasha both a slice to go alongside the coffee.

"You think it's gonna start snowing soon?" she asked.

"At some point," you said with a shrug. "Guess until then we enjoy what we've got."

You kissed each other with the taste of cranberry still lingering on each other's lips, the house cozy as ever and the two of you eager to enjoy the lazy weekend ahead.

#top gun maverick #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix x reader #dagger squad

[doll-r-t]

Syverson helps you through your Migraine

Syverson x disabled!reader

I came out of the most horrible migraine I had in a long time and I just wish I had someone like Sy to take care of me. I am still a bit exhausted but I just wanted to write this

When you woke up it was already late. You woke up slowly your body relaxed from a long, restful night's sleep. Aika climbed up on the bed and immediately lay on top of you trying to get some snuggles in. She was still panting heavily from the workout Syverson and she did. “Hey, baby girl.” Sy was dripping with sweat. “Hm,” you just mumbled still sleepy. He kissed you on your forehead. “Just woke up, hm?” You buried your head deeper into the pillow and nodded. He left without another word. He knew you needed time in the morning before you could talk. So as usual he made your favorite coffee. There was nothing better than coffee in bed. The morning was going well so far you were reading while drinking your morning coffee and could hear Syverson singing some old country song in the shower. He had a pleasant voice, with his sexy southern twang. Aika was napping next to you. You were ready for the day but you could feel something was off.

The longer you were awake the more you could feel the pressure building up in your head. You laid flat on your bed and breathed in deeply into your gut. But the tension in your body did not go away. Your cheeks started tensing up, pulling upwards as if someone was pulling them, your jaw started to lock slowly. The pulsing in your right temple in your head got more prominent and then the pain like small lighting struck through your right eye. You breathed in one more time before getting up opening your bedside drawer and taking your medication. You hated migraines but unfortunately, they were your close companion. You took a sip from your water, trying to breathe out again gaging whether you had to throw up or not. You were starting to overheat, slowly a small sheen of sweat prepared. Your body was cramping and you had no way of stopping this. You just had to wait it out. You tried to get up but it took you a few tries, on the third try Syverson came out of the bathroom.           

      Immediately when he saw you he knew. He quickly came over, softly he whispered. “Sweetheart?” You could not say anything and had no facial expression. You just blinked your eyes to indicate that you heard him. He knew exactly what to do. He went near the light switch and lowered the temperature of the AC. Before going into the kitchen. He pulled out a headwrap from the freezer and put the cooling pads into the pockets. Once he came back into the room you lay underneath the blankets your clothing was next to your bed. He pushed the blanket from your face and helped you sit up. You groaned, your face giving the slighted expression of the horrible pain you were in. He wrapped the cooling pads around your head, it folded them over your eyes. Once it was on you already felt a bit better. The cold always helped you. He handed you the small bottle from your nightstand opening it, it contained concentrated peppermint oil. The smell always helped you against nausea you felt. It did not prevent you from throwing up but at least it helped you ease the nauseating feeling a bit.      

   You laid back into the covering everything around you was cold but it distracted you from the pain, numbing parts of your body. Syverson had made sure Aika was not bothering you she was dutifully laying next to you. It felt good knowing she was there. Syverson had closed the blinds and shut the door. The room was completely quiet and dark which you could not be more thankful for.      

  Syverson was checking the freezer for some popsicles you could eat later when you were a bit better. But for now, he cut a piece of his freshly baked bread and brought it to you. He knew that you did not want to eat but it was necessary to have something in your stomach, especially with the heavy medication you took. He also checked if your favorite tea was still here.    

He returned to the bedroom seeing you lay completely still. It always tugged at his heart seeing you like this. He handed you the bread without saying anything. You two had discussed what to do in case you had a migraine early on in your relationship. You were stubborn in the beginning saying that you did not want to be a burden but he was persistent in showing you that your condition is not a burden and you were not one either. It was just something to deal with. He liked taking care of you anyways but he hated seeing you in pain. So when he experienced an episode for the first time his protective instincts kicked into gear. You raised your hand slowly biting one piece of the bread slowly with great effort eating it. Once Sy saw you eating he quietly left the room again. He would check in on you every half an hour just to make sure there was nothing you needed. But the best thing is you are left alone right now. Late once your medication kicked in he would come and snuggle you a bit.      

   You sighted out in relief slowly the medication started to kick in you felt it tingling in your hands and then the pressure in your eyes lessened. You started to move your arms and legs gauging your body's reaction. Your limps were cold and now that the pain was reducing your started to shiver. It was too cold now, so you slowly sat up. That’s good, you did not feel nauseous or like your head was going to split in two. It was always tricky sometimes when you thought you were good and got up all relieved you realized you were still fucked.        

It was like Syverson had a sixth sense and before you could get off the bed the door opened. You flinched at the light but otherwise, you were okay. He walked up to you quickly trying to read your face. Your eyes went to the closet. He turned to look at what you were pointing at, and he nodded, quickly getting up. He pulled out your favorite soft PJs. Slowly he helped you into them mindful of not letting his rough hands touch your sensitive body just yet. Instead of falling into bed straight away, you leaned forward snuggling into him. He held you for a second before pushing you to lay down again. This time, however, after closing the door, he climbed into bed with you. The AC was still blasting cold air, and it felt so good while you were snuggled warm in Sy’s arms slowly falling asleep. Like this, you could get through any migraine

Taglist:

@tumblnewby @irishprincess89 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @sofiebstar @omgkatinka @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirl @pjkimrn @zealoushound, @lunedelorient​, @tragicphoenix13​, @alexa-fangirl-forever​, @vhjlucky13​ @bourbonwithice

#syverson x reader #syverson x disabled!reader #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x disabled!reader #syverson x you #captain syverson x you #henry cavill #syverson imagine #sand castle (movie) #syverson #captain syverson #henry cavill x disabled!reader #captain syverson imagine

[rumblebat]

Hello!~ Glad to see you all! As promised (and late), here is your lovely Dracule Mihawk. Before reading, please read over the CW! I appreciate you, enjoy!

❗CW: Blood (rare food + consumption/drinking), Vampires, Mentioning of the Ocean (depth), Slight Fluff, Pet names (princess/prince), G/N Reader

word count: 2,440 ** Please do not repost/edit/rewrite my fanfics or cover photos. just reblog/request/share instead! I appreciate your visit!

🤍 Support me, if you'd like! | Wattpad 🤍

You were a castaway. Afloat on a thick piece of wood in the middle of the ocean. The hot sun only seemed to cook you more and more as you drifted endlessly. You were dehydrated, wheezing. This was how it all ended. No one will know about your death, you will sink into the endless brine until your lifeless body hit the seafloor. Waiting for a lurking beast to come and devour you.

Alas, you didn't need to worry about that. As the sun started to set, it graciously tugged for the moon to follow. The cool air became still, something didn't seem right. Your mind was too hazy from the scorching sun to fully comprehend what was happening. An odd-shaped boat slowly crept up to your side. The large figure sat aloof in the brilliant maroon chair. The waxing crescent gave the chair's gold accent a little bit of shine. The figure's gleaming eyes scanned your corpse. Swiftly, he lifted you out of the water and placed you on the deck gently.

After what seemed like forever, you opened your eyes. The room you woke up in didn't seem familiar. This wasn't yours, none of it was. Where are you? You sat up and held your head, slightly flenching at your sore muscle and nearly sunburned skin. This was agony. Everything was slowly coming too, you let out a deep breath.

"...Where the hell am I?" You mumbled, not expecting an answer as you look to your side. Being met with two large, golden eyes nearly stopped your heart.

"You are in my home, castaway.." Said a regal voice. The figure walked closer to you, his form coming into view by the candlelight. "You were drifting close to my island, I just so happened to bump into you while I was sailing. That was a week ago..." He spoke his voice almost like velvet.

You sat there in awe, not knowing whether to be terrified or to be slightly embarrassed. He was attractive, but he was menacing and didn't seem to know it. You didn't know this man, but his eyes. Those eyes. You've heard the rumors about a certain warlord with piercing, golden-ringed eyes. This was him, this was that man. What was his name again?

You cleared your throat as he walked around your bed, picking up the small bowl on the bedside table. "If you're hungry...I'll be making dinner soon. I don't expect you to come to the dining hall to eat, but if you do. Don't hurt yourself trying." He sets the bowl on a silver tray. "I would prefer a quiet dinner, not a noisy one." The man spoke under his breath.

Your eyes followed him, before he closed the door you opened your mouth. "Wait! What's your name!" The man stopped in his tracks and looked back at you. Even in the dim light, his eyes still managed to glow. "If you manage to make it down to the dining hall, I'll answer any questions you might have. I'll hopefully see you soon." He spoke, and a soft chuckle bubbled in his chest.

Once the door closed, you looked from the door to the large, wooden clock in the corner. 7:14pm. Carefully, you got up from your spot and walked to the door. Your eyes were caught by something, you narrowed them and blinked. A stack of neatly folded clothes was placed on the desk. You tilted your head and made your way over to them, gently picking them up and analyzing them. It was a simple silk nightgown. The laced bottle swayed against the floor, as well as a pair of bloomers. You looked at the bloomers and picked them up, "What the hell..?" You mumbled. "These look itchy as hell!" You shake your head and quickly got dressed, then gingerly made your way down the hall.

You could smell freshly baked bread, butter, and seasonings beyond your wildest dreams. For such a gloomy place, you didn't expect much flavor from this mysterious man.

Peeking your head into the kitchen, you locked eyes with him. Now, basking in the light of the oil lamp, you got to see every part of him. How impressive. You stared at him, not noticing your face changing colors.

"You know, in some places; it's rude to stare. Especially, in someone else's home." He sighed and turned away, wiping his hands on his apron. "Dinner is on the table. Get to it, castaway."

You grunted softly, "Mmh, I have a name."

"Oh, do you now?" The man chirped. You grumbled and pulled out the chair, "Yes, it's (y/n).." He nodded his head and walked over, setting down his plate and a wine glass. You tilted your head at the liquid, it didn't seem like wine, it was thicker.

"Well, (y/n). I'm Dracule Mihawk, it's a pleasure..." He eyed you down as if you were nothing more than prey with a name. Quickly, you looked back at your plate, noticing your meat was slightly... undercooked.

"W-well, Mr. Mihawk, I don't want to be rude...but is there any way to cook my food for a bit longer? It seems to be...still bleeding." You mumbled, sticking out your tongue. His eyes slowly went down to your plate, "It seems it is..." He reaches over and grabs your plate, switching it with his, "Sorry, I mixed our plates up."

"You...eat your meat bloody?" He nods slowly, wiping off his silverware. He began to eat, the meat almost looked soggy. As if it was still alive. You sat there, trying not to gag. Respectfully, he wiped his mouth and glared at you.

"You better eat before your food gets cold.." You slowly nod and gulp, eating your vegetables and other sides. Trying your best to avoid the meat, as well as his eye contact. This was getting a little overwhelming for you, but you tried to play it off. Little did you know, the bird-like man was seeing right through your little facade.

The night started to come slowly. You offered to help clean up but were kindly denied by the stoic man. He nodded his thanks to you and walked to the sink. Cleaning off each utensil. "I do have one question," He started, you froze in your tracks. "Where did you come from? Why were you stranded in the middle of the sea?..." Mihawk asked calmly, of course not expecting a full-length answer. You were knocked out when he saved you.

You blinked a few times and thought to yourself, "Um...my..village was blown up? I think. I was on a boat trying to get away, but ended up getting hit in the crossfire." Your eyes grew sad, rubbing your arm. He nodded his head and turned off the faucet, wiping his hands on the apron and removing it.

"Interesting. I'm impressed you managed to survive a buster call." He started, glaring over at you. You didn't understand, merely tilting your head like a confused puppy. He chuckled at your adoring gesture. 

"If you're assuming I'm a pirate. I'm not...that thing you called it, was probably because my village was attacked. Of course, the damn Marines didn't kill any pirates - everyone in my home is now gone." You hissed.

"So you're homeless." He said in a stagnant tone.

You clicked your tongue and cursed at his ill comment. Before you managed to even make it out of the kitchen, the hawk-like man swiftly darted in front of you.

"I do hope you know," He growled, "It's also very rude to leave during a conversation..." Mihawk spat, stepping closer to you. "And it's rude to curse under your breath. Speak up if you have something to say, castaway.."

You choked on your breath, smelling nothing but expensive cologne and the faint stench of iron. Something like blood. You took a step back, bumping against the wall.

"You smell.." You said in a shaky breath. He stared at you, then let out a small laugh. "W-what's so funny? You smell like blood! I get that you're that strong swordsman, are you injured? Why-" You stopped talking, remembering the glass of mysterious liquid and the very odd meat. No, vampires don't exist. They never had! Maybe in folklore and stories, but this is real life! They aren't real!...right?

Your eyes slowly met back with Mihawk, who gave you a small yet warm smile, his teeth gently peeking through his lips. 'F-fangs?' You thought to yourself.

He slowly pulled away from you, going over to a large chair in the corner of the room. "You know," he began, "If you need a place to stay. As you can probably tell, I am a very lonely man in this big castle. I do have room to spare." He sat down, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. His hand reached for his newspaper while the other reached for a familiar bottle. He suddenly poured himself a glass, "You are free to stay for as long as you want." Mihawk cooed softly, taking a deep sip from his wine.

You stood there, watching this man bask in the moonlight, amazing at his beauty and his sudden kindness. You've only heard stories about him. How ruthless and savage he was. He enjoyed chasing his prey, just like his nickname entails. He is nothing more than a hawk.

You gulped and slowly walked to him, freezing in place when his eyes met you. "What's wrong?" Mihawk questioned, "I won't bite.." You blushed softly and nodded, walking over to the large chair that mimicked his.

"Mr. Mihawk-"

"Mihawk is fine." He corrected you, going back to his newspaper.

You tried to muster up the courage, letting out a breath. "Your..teeth." You started, "You're not..um..ya know."

He slowly looked back at you, sipping his wine. "Mm? I'm not a what? Pirate?" You shook your head.

"Vampire." You said under a cough. He stared at you again and laughed. You sat there, awkward. Was it that funny? Sure, of course, he'd think it's funny! He's pale, lives in a big castle, drinks red wine or something, and has the whole gothic vibe! You let out a faint chuckle.

"(y/n)," He said through a dying laugh, "You're the first one to even recognize that I am." Mihawk cleared his throat and signed, looking up at you.

Your face was horrified, terrified even. He tilted his head and raised a brow. "What seems to be the problem?" You blinked and opened your mouth, but were cut off by him zipping in front of you. Only a few inches away from your face. "You look...mortified. As if I'm going to hurt you..." He whispered gently to you, "Are you? Afraid, (y/n)?"

You didn't know what to say. You were scared, of course. Does he have cravings? What if he gets hungry and goes crazy? You're the only person on this island besides him! What will happen?! So many questions run through your head.

"Please...don't hurt me." you managed to squeak out.

He paused, not even moving an inch. His eyes study you. Your body movement, your face, your heartbeat. He noticed. Everything. How hurt but also how scared you were. Slowly, he pulled away from you. Taking extra precautions to not make any sudden movements. 

"Not all vampires are bloodthirst freaks..." He said, walking back to his seat. "Not that I'm offended or anything. Take the time to understand fictional vampires and real ones…" You look back at him, making sure he was telling the truth. You couldn't tell. The man was a stone wall.

"I'm sorry..." You said, rubbing your arm. "I didn't mean for that to come out so rudely. I...just only heard stories about them and was told they were all bad. None of them were good and they were only killers." Your (e/c) orbs glanced over at him, trying to read any expression he gave. Nothing.

The room was silent after a few hours, and you were starting to get sleepy. The room felt cooler. Mihawk glanced over at the clock then back at your tired body. 12:59am. You laid there, perfectly curled up on the chair.

"If that was your form of an apology." He began, neatly folding the paper and standing up. The hawk swiftly made his way to you, gently picking you up from your semi-cozy state. "I'll forgive you...~" He purred softly, noticing your body only getting closer to him for warmth. He smiled sweetly and opened the door to the room you'd been staying in. "I take it that you're okay with staying with me?" Not knowing what's going on, you only nod your head. Mihawk chuckles softly to himself, placing you in the large bed and tucking you in.

Once he was done, he quietly turned on his heel and started to make his way for the door.

"Wait..." Said a small voice, "...please...stay with me tonight?" You asked in your near somnolent state. He looked over his shoulder at you, his golden eyes giving off that familiar glow in the night.

He stood there for a few minutes, trying to see if you were meaning it or if you were just talking in your sleep. Once he noticed your hand grabbing out to him, he chuckled softly and closed the door. Making his way over to your bedside.

"I suppose...since the little (princess/prince), asked so kindly." He teased in his typical monotone voice.

You opened your eyes sleepily, raising your head but quickly started to snap out of the daze once he began to undress. "I'm sorry, do you not like that name I gave you? Why are you making that face all of a sudden?.." He questioned as he crawled into the bed beside you. You tried to distance yourself but he quickly pinned his arms by your side.

"Are you okay with me being this close?" He asked softly. You felt as if all this was going by a little fast. You gulped and nodded your head slowly. This feels wrong, but somehow you feel so safe with him. It's comforting...very comforting. You leaned up and gently kissed his lips, tasting the lingering flavor of blood. His eyes were lidded, a deep purr grew in his chest.

"Well...I guess that's one way to thank me.." He kissed you back, slowly trailing each kiss from your lips to your neck. You let out a small sigh, biting your lip and nearly regretting the next few words.

"If you don't mind...I can think of another way of thanking you...~" He slowly looked up at you, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

"Well, It looks like we won't be sleeping for the night~...Let's get started, shall we?"

#mihawk x reader #self insert x canon #one piece #rumblebat #fanfic #fanfiction #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #self insert #dracule mihawk #vampire au #mihawk #op mihawk #mihawk x y/n #one piece x oc #one piece x y/n #one piece fluff

[wickedlyqueer]

Ten First Lines Game

Rules: Share the first line of ten of your most recent fanfics and then tag ten people. Don't have ten? Not to worry, just share what you have.

Tagged by: @gliyerabaa

Yes, I'll do this instead of my actual paid job. I'll just list my Wicked fics, and go from most recent to least. Same as Rae, I'll sometimes do two lines instead of one.

Our Last Shimmer of Magic - Magic was Glinda’s entire life. Born with its powers and the only descendant from a long bloodline of strong casters, it was inevitable she’d grow dependent on it.

Smoke Covers Your Radiating Heart - The engine of the red car parked at Regent’s Parade had been running for several minutes.

pull a heist on my heart (watch how deep you'll be buried) - It was another slow evening at the Spangletown Cabaret, a dingy pub in the poorest side of Emerald City.

i'll bear my heartache (and keep on dreaming) - It was another crisp autumn morning when Elphaba arrived at Frottica High. In half an hour the square would be crawling with students, but all that was present now was a spotted stray cat, his eyes hungry and his posture alert.

rotting corpses lay to rest (where flowers ought to bloom) -Elphaba exhaled a deep breath as she opened the lavish gates of the Arduenna estate. Her visit had been months in the making. 

i'll be your queen (so dethrone me now) - It wasn’t easy being the most popular girl in school, but it was a burden Galinda was willing to carry.

Wiretapped Life - With a last brush of rouge Glinda checked her image in the mirror. She was still undeniably pretty, but it did not please her to see how much she had aged. 

bend my will, bend my mind (i'm burning out without your light) - It was nearing dusk when Glinda was in the training gym, rapidly hitting earth disks into a net.

show me your stars (and i'll show you mine) - The liberal arts department of Shiz University was reputable for being one of the best in the country. Despite her parents’ numerous objections, as a third year art major Glinda was more than happy with her choice.

Wherever The Wind May Carry Us - Glinda woke up to the smell of freshly baked bread in the oven.

And sure, fuck it, as a bonus, here's the first line of the yet-to-be-released multiverse au - “I must admit, your invitation to get drinks after work came as a bit of a surprise.”

Tagging @festivating & @orkbutch if they're up for it.

You can find all my fics on AO3 or can check a quick synopsis on my projects page.

#tag game #wicked the musical #gelphie #having your first lines all in a row like this is kinda weird haha #like yaaaaas girl show me your pov - location - current activity to us!! 😍

[demarogue]

Fluff & Smut Elriel One-shot

I enjoy the HC's people have that Elriel will be super kinky, but wanted to propose – maybe they are mostly soft. I think that would be nice.

crumbs

Azriel woke to an empty bed, fingers flexing at the space where she should have been.

His eyes blinked open, then squinted against the shaft of buttery sunlight spilling through the crack between the curtains, across the ancient, ornate rug and the velvet bedspread, until it reached his face and lit the hazel bright as gold. He smoothed his hand over the indentation left by her body on the sheets, inhaled the lingering scent of her, listened for her in the echoes of her shadow. The darkness whispered to him of her soft footsteps upon the floor boards, the way she’d carefully closed the drapes before tiptoeing out with the dawn chorus.

Downstairs, they told him. Kitchens.

How late had he slept?

He swept his long legs out from the covers, drifted to the window to blink out at the day. Not so late, then; the sun was still low, at bit of alpenglow still turning the distant peaks rose-pink. Elain must have gotten up so early with some design for the day, and darkened the windows to let him sleep. A sweet gesture, he thought, but when would she learn that he would always rather be at her side? No matter the hour.

No matter what.

He dressed in simple, casual clothes, leaving his feet bare, and descended the stairs after her. As soon as he was in the foyer, turning to follow the hall to the kitchen in the back of the house, he could hear her – his shadows shivered in pleasure beneath the melody she hummed, the creak of an opening oven, the thump of something being set upon butcher block. A moment later he was there, leaning in the doorway, taking a moment just to watch her. She was bent over the counter, her hair tied back into an artfully loose, braided bun, an apron tied around her waist. When she rose, sensing him there, he glimpsed a golden-brown boule of sourdough, freshly baked. Then the smell of it hit him, and his mouth watered.

“Good morning,” he smiled, inclining his head as he looked at her. She was alone, without Nuala and Cerridwen there to guide and gossip while she learned to knead the dough, and how to judge the proof by a thumb print; how much moisture, how much heat, how much time. She had been practicing, he knew, but this was a first.

"Listen," Elain said, beckoning him forward with a finger, then when he came to her, guiding him closer with a hand against his cheek. Gently, so gently did she handle him, always, as if he were something precious. Something sacred.

Azriel dipped his ear to the bread at her bidding, feeling the heat of it bloom against his face. In that tender silence, punctuated only by the even, easy breaths of his beloved as she watched him, he could hear what she had wanted to share: the hum and crackle of the new crust, as if it were breathing, too. Hovering a hand above it, he could feel it faintly buzz.

His eyes flicked up to her, his beaming bride-to-be, blushing with pleasure at this thing she had made, this perfect thing, wholesome and good.

"I did it," she said, biting her smiling lip.

Azriel returned her smile, his expression soft. To see her like this, happy and easy in this kitchen, with time to learn to bake…far from battlefields, and grasping politicians, and any kind of danger. Safe. They were safe now, in this time and place, to be themselves without fear. To do what they wanted. To be who they wanted. Emotion colored his voice when he spoke at last.

"When can we taste it?"

She laughed brightly, that wind-chime sound he loved, that birdsong, more musical than music, and Azriel ached to touch her, feel that laughter on his lips. He pulled her to him with a hand on her hip, brushed her nose with his nose.

"We have to wait. It’s the worst part! The twins warned me, but now that I’ve done it, I want it."

"How long?"

"An hour," she moaned, brows pinching up. "At least."

Azriel hummed, his free hand lifting to smooth the wrinkle there, then trace the contours of her forehead, her cheekbone, her bottom lip.

"Torture," he agreed, and she smiled beneath his thumb. Her eyes darted between his lips and his eyes.

Read the rest on AO3!

#elriel #pro elriel #acotar fanfiction

[friskynotebook]

You Make It Feel Like Christmas Ch. 5

An Obidala Hallmark Christmas movie rewrite!

CW: age gap, food, grief, injury, concussion

Summary: Padme and the Kenobis take in the Christmas market and share Christmas memories

Also on AO3!

Padme scrunched her nose as she woke, feeling a rough dog tongue licking her face.

“Oh, good morning, Lola,” she giggled, reaching out to pet the puppy. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you?”

Padme rolled out of bed and dressed, carrying Lola downstairs. Looks like I’m the first one up. Wrapping herself in a blanket scarf she had found in the back of her borrowed closet, she lit a match and started the fireplace.

“Perfect,” she sighed, a smile on her face.

Satisfied with the cozy early morning atmosphere, Padme headed into the kitchen to prepare the coffee as she’d watched Obi-Wan do for the past few days, humming to herself as it brewed.

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Obi-Wan’s voice startled Padme out of her humming. “It is. It’s ready, actually.”

“Lovely,” he replied, watching her pour him a cup. “Thank you, Ami.”

“You’re welcome,” she blushed, pouring her own cup.

“And I see you got a fire started as well.”

“I did,” she nodded. “Cozy, isn’t it?”

“Very,” he agreed. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Leia ran downstairs dressed in a plain green onesie.

“I look like a giant green bean!” Leia wailed. “I’m supposed to be an elf!”

“Oh, Leia,” Padme cooed. “At least you’re a really cute green bean.”

Leia pouted and looked down at her socked feet.

“I think I can help,” Padme said. “I would just need a sewing kit.” She turned towards Obi-Wan, a question in her eyes.

“I think I can find one of those,” he nodded.

##

“Watch your step right there,” Obi-Wan warned Padme, taking her hand and leading her into the dusty old barn.

“Thanks . . . Oh, wow. This is such a beautiful space,” Padme gasped, looking around.

“Oh, thank you,” he demurred. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“It is . . .”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “Satine used to keep her horse out here . . . I’ve been wanting to turn it into an animal hospital for a while now. I’d love it if my clients didn’t have to drive sixty miles to Boulder if their animal needs surgery, you know?”

“That would be great.” Padme walked in comfortable silence with him for a few beats before clearing her throat. “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you about her, about Satine.”

“Oh. Um . . .” Obi-Wan looked down and swallowed. “Well, uh, she passed away a little over three years ago now.” He rubbed his nose, scratched his beard. “Sh-she wasn’t sick for all that long, which is good . . . If anything good could come from that, you know.” He turned away and kept walking.

“I’m so sorry,” Padme murmured. 

“Thank you.”

“But that’s not really what I meant.”

Obi-Wan turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Oh?”

“I actually wanted to hear about what she was like. A memory or something?”

“Alright,” he said, smiling softly. “She would make freshly baked cinnamon bread every weekend for the family. She loved baking . . . We would make sure to spend time together every evening at the end of the day to talk about how things went and to reconnect as a couple. That was very important to us, to do that . . . And she loved Christmas. That was her holiday. She made homemade stockings for the children, handmade ornaments . . .” He swallowed. “She always made sure the children got one present they really wanted and one present she believed would make them better people. And just about every year, the children preferred that present anyway . . . I know this might sound strange, but she had the most wonderful scent. When I woke up in the morning, even before I opened my eyes, I just knew she was there. I knew she was all around me.”

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Padme said, her voice hoarse from disuse. “You must miss her a lot.”

Obi-Wan nodded, unable to speak. He stepped over to a few boxes, starting to dig through them.

“You know,” Padme began. “If you did turn this space into an animal hospital, it would be like you were doing something for Satine, in her memory. Helping animals with this incredible space she loved so much.”

“I’ve honestly never thought of it like that,” he replied. “When you put it like that, it sounds lovely.”

Padme smiled and looked down, letting his praise wash over her.

Obi-Wan pulled a metal tin from a dusty box, smiling at her. “Sewing kit.”

##

“Excited?” Korkie asked his little sister.

“Yep!” Leia beamed, swinging her big brother’s and father’s arms as she walked with them into the Christmas market, showing off her special sparkly elf costume under her jacket.

The family gathered together with the other families as the children gathered on stage for the outdoor Christmas play.

“She’s an elf among green beans,” Obi-Wan murmured to Padme, leaning in close. Padme blushed and opened her mouth to respond when the children interrupted her.

“In Santa’s workshop far away, Santa’s elves work night and day!” Leia grinned in front of her classmates, clearly excited to be wearing such a pretty costume.

“These little elves make video games!” Santa Quinlan announced.

Leia stepped up front. “And these little elves give dolls their names!”

Padme gave Leia a dazzling smile as Obi-Wan surreptitiously went to rub his eye.

“And Santa packs the gifts in his sleigh and takes it to kids on Christmas Day!” Quinlan finished. “Merry Christmas!”

As the crowd started to disperse, Obi-Wan pulled Padme aside. “Her costume really is amazing. I cannot thank you enough, Ami.”

Padme blushed again. Probably just the cold . . . “Oh, I think I might have overdone it a little bit.”

Leia ran over and lept into her father’s arms. “There she is!” Obi-Wan cried as he lifted her up.

“I had the best costume ever!” Leia declared.

“I don’t think Leia minds,” Obi-Wan teased, grinning at Padme. He turned back to his daughter. “You did! Congratulations!”

“Thank you Daddy!” Leia clung to his neck. ##

Later that evening, the family was walking through the market, twinkling Christmas lights dancing through the crisp winter air as their boots trudged through the snow.

“Who wants hot chocolate?” Obi-Wan asked the children.

“Me!” They all cheered.

“Me too!” Obi-Wan grinned. “Want one?” he asked Padme.

“Oh no,” she replied. “I ate, like, half a turkey.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “We’ll be back. Korkie, help me bring them over?”

“Okay!” Korie said, taking his father’s hand as they walked off.

“Ami!” Mace and Depa came over to Padme, Luke, and Leia.

“Oh hi!” Padme greeted them. “Enjoying the market?”

“It’s wonderful—one of my favorite parts of the season,” Depa replied.

“Listen, Ami, I wanted to talk to you about your car,” Mace said. “We’ve been combing the woods looking for it, and I think we’re finally closing in on it.”

“How have you been feeling?” Depa asked.

“Oh, I . . .” Padme trailed off as she glanced over to where Obi-Wan and Luke went in search of hot chocolate—only to find Obi-Wan going for a polite kiss on the cheek and Siri pulling him in for a more passionate kiss.

Before she even realized what she was feeling, her heart sank. Why do I feel so . . . despondent? He can kiss whoever he wants. He doesn’t owe me anything.

Padme tried to not let her disappointment show on her face. “I’m feeling much better these days,” she replied. “Must be the mountain air.”

Obi-Wan and Korkie returned with the hot chocolates, just in time for the tree lighting.

“Three, two, one!” The crowd chanted, cheering when the Christmas tree in town square was lit up in all its glory.

##

“They are out,” Obi-Wan said as he came into the living room from putting the children to bed. “Must have been all the sugar.”

He sank down on the couch next to Padme. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the market.”

Padme sighed. “Look, Obi-Wan, I have to tell you something. I’m having the time of my life with you and your kids—at least as far as I know—I think I should find another place to stay because . . . I don’t want to be selfish and come between you and Siri.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I saw you and her in the square kissing when you went to get hot chocolate.”

“Oh!” Obi-Wan chuckled. “No, Ami, it’s not like that at all—”

“I get it,” Padme continued. “I mean, I just fell out of the sky like some crazy snowflake with no memory. There’s a whole world here that I’m not a part of, and I get that—”

“It wasn’t a real kiss,” Obi-Wan interrupted.

Padme looked taken aback. “It looked like a real kiss . . .”

“Well it was a kiss, but it was because of the mistletoe,” Obi-Wan explained. “She held a mistletoe over my head and I wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek to be polite, but she, well, went further than I was comfortable with.” He cleared his throat.

Padme frowned. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan looked up from his lap. “Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” she repeated. “She forced you into something you didn’t want, only to make it worse by crossing your boundaries even further—and she did it in public in front of Korkie because she knew you wouldn’t want to make a scene in front of him. It couldn’t have been easy for you, Obi-Wan. Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, his features softening. If Padme didn’t know better, she’d think he looked touched. “Better now that I’m home in front of the fire,” he smiled.

After a beat, he continued. “We did go on a date, once. But it was so . . . wrong.  It didn’t feel right. She force-fed me some of the most slimy tofu I’d ever had.”

Padme gave him a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I’d never make you eat slimy tofu. Anyone who makes slimy tofu should not be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

He laughed. “Ami, Christmas has not been the same around here for a few years now, and having you here with us . . . You’ve made it feel special.”

“Really?” Padme asked, her voice soft.

“Really. And you are a part of this family—I mean, part of this world, here in Salida,” he quickly corrected himself. “I know you’re part of another world and we’ll figure out where that is but until we do . . . What I’m trying to say is we’d love to have you stay here with us.”

She beamed at him, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Daddy! Daddy! Can you bring me water? I’m thirsty!” Leia called.

Padme raised her head. “Duty calls?”

Obi-Wan stood, a wry grin on his face. “Duty calls.”

No-pressure tags: @saradika @obiknights @justsaysomethingjayj @cypanache @alabama-metal-man @vic3456 @darlingamidala @celestial-alignment @your-dose-of-obidala @written-musings @fearless-too-and-stubborn

#obidala #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #obi wan x padme #obi wan kenobi x padme amidala #obi wan fanfic #padme fanfic #my fic #my writing

[blairsanne]

Boonies - 3- Locals

For the @deanobingo 2023 event!

Prompts: Will Johnson - "Oops" Wanted - Will Johnson x female Reader 3985 words

Summary: Will accompanies you to the market and gets a taste of the locals. He opts out of another invite, but when you come home drunk he's left with more questions once again.

CW: Alcohol use, drunken behaviour, mention of pain, mention of prior injuries, mention of scars, mention of antibiotics and Tylenol, mention of desired sexual activities, discussion of unwanted sexual attention (not noncon/SA), suggestive physical contact and kissing (T rated, dubcon).

Prev parts: 1, 2

Will woke in the blue hour light of pre-sunrise, the smell of freshly baked bread the first thing he registered. The market, right.

He remembered your comment about having an early morning and rubbed at his eyes, wondering how long you’d been up.

Stretching as he got out of the bed, he winced when his body reminded him of the leg injury he was supposed to be babying.

He wondered what the market setup would entail. Probably nothing too strenuous.

The idea of sitting behind your table doing nothing already made him feel stir-crazy, but he had decided the night before that he wanted to go with you, if only to get off your property and clear his head a bit. He still wasn’t sure if what he’d seen was real, or if he was hallucinating problems now in addition to thinking of them constantly.

He cleaned up in the ensuite and got dressed, then wandered toward the kitchen in hopes of scoring a breakfast that tasted as good as the house currently smelled.

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Will teased, though the groggy rasp of his voice turned what he’d meant as a playful greeting into a tired one.

You wrapped a cooled loaf of bread in cling film, smiling as you looked over your shoulder. “Nothing at the moment. You hungry?”

Will grunted, walking over to lean against the counter near where you were standing. Various baked goods had been packaged up for sale. “I don’t want to put you out. Seems you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I was.” You smiled, satisfied with your own efforts.

“Oh, here-” You moved to pull a plate closer, revealing three cinnamon rolls. “I had one earlier, but these are for you. You don’t have to eat them right aw-”

Will took one off the plate before you could finish your sentence, brows raised and scruffy cheeks dimpled by his grin as he started ripping it apart. “Chur.”

“Well, hold on, there’s frosting, too.” You stepped away to grab a bowl from the fridge that you placed on the counter for him. “I wasn’t sure if you liked yours heated up, or what…” 

“Beauty.”

You watched as Will slathered a thick layer of frosting on his roll before continuing to pick it apart with his thick fingers. It wasn’t a refined way of eating by any means, but the rapturous look on his face forced you to forgive him any lack of manners.

Will thought to himself that he might get fat staying here, but he didn’t care if it meant eating like this.

The sun finally rose above the horizon, bathing the kitchen in a golden glow as it shone low through the windows. Will looked up to see you looking outside in the direction he’d seen the figure the night before and swallowed.

“Do you get many trespassers?” “What?” “Well, you’re-” He gestured. “Out in the wops, don’t have the best fences. Get many people on your land?”

You let out a laugh. “No, you’re the first squatter in my coop so far.”

“No theft, or- anything like that?”

“Nope.” You flashed him an easy grin. “Safe as houses. So relax.”

Will’s brow furrowed, keeping eye contact.

“I know you checked the locks last night. But I promise, nobody’s out here but us and the hens.”

He hesitated, still unsure. If he told you he thought he’d seen someone, that would either scare you or make you think he was crazy.

He forced a false laugh into his voice, turning his attention back to his food. “Right.”

You watched him for a moment, wondering what had happened to make him so vigilant.

Possibly related to those scars…

You pictured his naked torso, the image of him ripping out your fence the day earlier still fresh in your mind. He was fit and strong despite his injury. You had no doubt he’d be capable of defending himself against most people. Then again, something had clearly torn through him in the past.

Must have been something bad.

--

Will leaned back in the folding camping chair you’d offered him, enjoying the fresh morning air as people milled about in the paved area being used for the farmer’s market. He was subtly watching the crowd, knowing rationally that nothing was likely to happen, and trying to appear relaxed.

It hadn’t taken long for you to set up your table, batting away Will’s attempts to help. You had done this the same way every Saturday for months now, and you had a system. You had even packed you both coffees in travel mugs to keep you warm.

You looked over to him, thinking he looked every bit like the rugged outdoorsman he was. You could see him sitting exactly like that, relaxed beside a campfire somewhere. As you looked over his strong frame, you wondered if the chair would support both of you if you decided to sit on his lap. 

I bet he gets really worked up after a hunt; all that testosterone…

You forced yourself to look away, scanning the booths and noting all the familiar faces as you pushed the idea from your mind. Your life was here, in the boonies. His was in Dunedin.

Will sipped at his coffee, thinking idly that he looked forward to eating another cinnamon roll later.

You turned to him again, dropping your voice so nobody would hear.

“Thanks for coming, eh? It can get a bit boring sitting alone.” “Nah, no worries.” “Oh, but- feel free to look around, too.”

Will hummed, not really interested in the wares and trying to ignore the pain in his leg. He had taken the antibiotics, but no Tylenol that morning, and he was starting to regret it. Without work to distract him he was over-aware of the swelling and thrumming of his skin. Maybe I overdid it yesterday.

Not that he’d ever admit it. He’d just be sure to take something when you got back.

Soon you were trading greetings with customers, selling them roughly the same things they bought every week, or at times trading wares with another vendor who you had arrangements with. Will kept quiet, but offered polite smiles to anyone who looked his way.

Eventually Pete walked over, his large frame making his presence somewhat overbearing.

“Mornin’ love.”  “Morning.”

He gave a nod to Will. “You keeping off that leg?”

Will gestured at it from his seat. “More or less.”

Pete’s gaze turned to you. “And all’s well?”

You smiled. “Mmhmm.”

Pete narrowed his eyes at Will. “And you’re not giving her any trouble?”

“Pete-” Will raised his hands defensively. “It’s like staying at a bloody hotel. I told her not to fuss, but-”

“It’s no trouble,” you argued, slight irritation in your voice. “Just chill.”

Will snickered, shrugging at Pete as though to say ‘my hands are tied’.

Pete hummed, thinking the two of you were getting chummy, but saw to his business with you rather than pressing the issue.

“Busy day.” He tucked the loaf of bread he’d bought into a tote bag and scratched at his cheek. “Mac wants me to shave before the dance. Speaking of- Pick you up at the usual time tonight?”

“Tonight? I thought it wasn’t til the fifteenth?” “Today is the fifteenth, love.”

You checked your phone to see the date displayed above the time. “So it is.” You tucked some hair behind your ear, feeling embarrassed. “Where’s the month gone?”

“Well, I suppose when you have company, it can be a bit distracting,” he teased, raising a brow at Will to make it clear what he was implying he thought was going on between you. “See you both tonight.” He gave a pointed look to Will, then walked off before you could say anything to confirm or deny his implication.

You turned to Will and smiled. “You should come with me. It’s always a hoot.”

He grinned at your phrasing. A hoot.

“Once a month, everyone dresses up nice and we have a big dinner and dance.”

Will sucked in a breath, pretending to be disappointed. “Aw, and here I didn’t pack my suit.”

You laughed. “You don’t have to dress formally. We just do it for fun. You look great just as you are.”

Will chewed his lower lip, tearing his eyes away from you to try to think rationally. He had an uneasy feeling he couldn’t shake, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the odd encounter the night before, or the idea of being in an unknown place full of strangers. He knew he’d spend the evening eyeing exits and sizing up every person who came within a hundred feet of him.

“Still, I think I’ll give it a miss, if it’s all the same.” “Of course. Sorry! I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I just-”

He shook his head at your apology. “All good. Not my scene, that’s all.” He patted his knee. “And I reckon I should rest this so I can get out of your hair.”

You pursed your lips. “Fair enough.”

You couldn’t deny being disappointed, but he was dealing with enough without being forced into awkward social situations on top of having to stay with you when he clearly hadn’t wanted to.

“You gonna dance with Pete?” Will asked teasingly.

You laughed. “Not likely. I think his husband will eat up most of his dance card.”

Will raised his brow but nodded. That explains who ‘Mac’ is.

“Kia ora, beautiful.”

You both turned to face the man who had walked up to interrupt you.

Will first took note of the out of place attire. While most people were milling about in casual clothing, the tall, spindly man standing at your table was in an expensive looking suit. It was perfectly tailored, and, paired with the flashy watch and sunnies he was just removing, he looked like someone you’d find in Auckland, not the wop-wops.

“Mornin’, Dan,” you greeted him casually, though your voice didn’t hold nearly the level of interest that you’d been greeted with.

Will glanced your way and took note of the placid smile on your face, a stark contrast to the way Dan seemed to be undressing you with his eyes.

“Always good to see you.” Dan turned his attention to Will, tilting his head. “Though I don’t believe we’ve met.” He put out his hand. “Dan Coates.”

Will sat up straighter to shake his hand. “Will Johnson.”

“You new to town, Will?”

“Ah- no.” Will gestured dismissively. “Just visiting.”

Dan glanced between the both of you. “Oh! Family?”

“No. Will’s a chicken coop enthusiast,” you answered lightly. Will laughed while Dan tilted his head to figure out what that could possibly mean.

“I’m imposing on her hospitality,” Will corrected.

“Not even! I’m very happy to provide three square meals in exchange for free labour.”

Will narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “Maybe you’re taking advantage of me, then.”

When you snorted, Dan shifted and cleared his throat. “It’s not often you have visitors,” Dan remarked.

You shrugged, uninterested in elaborating.

“I hope you’re still coming tonight?” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” “And Will?”

Will met his gaze. “Think I’ll give it a miss. Don’t want to impose.”

“That’s a shame,” Dan lied, relief washing over his features. He gestured to your stock. “I’ll get a dozen eggs?”

You replied with the price, and made no particular fanfare as you accepted it and said a quick thanks.

“See you tonight.” Dan winked, then walked off, head held high.

Will waited until Dan was out of earshot to lean over. “That jafa seems to like you.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion as you tucked the money in your cash box. “What’s a jafa?”

Will laughed under his breath. “Uh- nevermind. It’s not a nice thing to say.”

You raised your brows and turned to him again. “Dan Coates is a pillar of the community,” you began, in a mock-chastising tone. “And I’m told - repeatedly - that he is sorely lacking in a wife.”

“Must be ‘cause he blends right in.”

You covered your mouth to try to silence your laugh, and Will found himself smiling as he took note of the way your eyes wrinkled at the effort.

“You’re terrible,” you whispered, pulling yourself together as another customer made their way closer to your table.

Will smiled to himself as you seemed to light up for this new person, and he thought idly that Dan must have been dense to think you were interested in him given how your demeanor had changed so drastically when he’d shown up. 

He looked out into the crowd and spotted him chatting up an older woman who was practically fawning. The man seemed to have everyone else eating out of the palm of his hands, so maybe it just didn’t occur to him that you’d be any different.

When you were alone at the table again, Will drummed his fingers against its edge. “Why don’t you fancy Mr. Coates, then?” he asked quietly.

“What?” You’d already forgotten about him, and was surprised by Will bringing him up.

“If he’s such a fine, upstanding man?”

You rolled your eyes. “He is, you know? He’s very good to everyone. I don’t dislike him, exactly. He’s just not my type, that’s all.”

“Oh, you have a type.”

“Well- No, that’s not- I just…” You winced, shoulders raising in discomfort. “I dunno, he doesn’t do it for me.”

“And what does?”

The air was thick between you as you met each other’s gazes. 

Oh, you know… Piercing blue eyes and golden curls and thick muscles… The kind of man who can rip out fence posts while recovering from a leg injury and still feel restless. Someone who would rather hunt to provide than pick out luxury sunglasses to wear to the farmer’s market…

Will’s eyes darted down to your lips and back, and you licked them unconsciously. He tilted his head the other way, but just as he parted his lips to say something, another customer appeared at the table.

“Kia ora!”

“Oh- g’morning.” You shifted in your seat and forced a smile that slowly became genuine as you chatted up the woman who was picking out baked goods.

Will leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee, reminding himself that it was probably better he drop that particular line of thinking.

---

Late that afternoon, you stepped into the living room after having gotten ready for the evening.

Will stilled at the sight of you, momentarily rethinking declining your invitation. You looked almost like a different person, your hair perfectly styled, sporting smokey eye makeup and false lashes, and looking completely out of his league in the backless dress you were wearing.

“Pete and Mac are on their way to pick me up. Dinner’s in the fridge, and help yourself to whatever,” you greeted, worried he wouldn’t eat without your insistence.

He blinked as though coming out of a daze. “Uh- yeah, ta. Will do.”

You caught the way he was looking at you and chewed your lower lip. “Is it too much? Should I change?”

“No! No, you look skux.”

You scrunched your face in confusion. “Skux? Is that a good thing?”

He laughed under his breath, hanging his head and shutting his eyes momentarily before looking up through his long, pale lashes.

“Yeah. You look great.”

He shifted and licked his lips. “Pete’s a lucky man.”

You laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.”

He chuckled but shook his head. “Oh, no, don’t.” 

He looked you over again and raised his brows. “I bet Dan Coates will be all over you,” he teased.

“Oh god.” You rolled your eyes and groaned. “Probably. What a drag.”

He snickered, secretly relieved that you thought so.

You pouted playfully. “You sure I can’t twist your arm into coming? You’d save me a lot of trouble.”

He contemplated it, but shook his head. “Nah. Not my scene.”

You sighed dramatically. “Well, alright then. It can’t be helped.”

You both perked up at the sound of a vehicle on the gravel road.

“That’ll be Pete. See you tonight!”

---

Will heard the crunch of a vehicle on the gravel road, but frowned when he realized it didn’t sound like the truck you’d left in.

He got out of bed still naked and walked to the window to peer through the sun-faded curtains.

A shiny red sedan pulled up the driveway out front, and he saw you get out the passenger side as Dan Coates opened the driver door.

He watched you gesture dismissively at Dan, looking grumpy and out of sorts as you made your way to the house. Dan simply stood watching, finally climbing back into his vehicle as Will heard you unlock the front door.

He let go of the curtain and returned to the bed, wondering if it would be odd of him to greet you. He sat in the dark, listening, but after several minutes, you still hadn’t made your way down the hall to your room.

He huffed. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to sleep now anyway, too many scenarios running through his mind.

He took a pair of grey joggers from his pack and pulled them on hastily before opening the bedroom door.

The kitchen light illuminated the end of the hallway, and he could hear you making some unfamiliar noise there. As he approached, he realized what it was.

He stepped into the room to see you leaning against the counter beside the sink, an open beer in one hand, and the other pressing at your face as you cried quietly.

“What’s wrong?”

You dropped your can in alarm, beer spilling over the tiled floor. “Jesus-”

Will moved to deal with the mess, righting the can and throwing the kitchen towel from your oven handle over the puddle.

He gazed up at you from his crouching position by your feet.

“Oops. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, I-”  You sniffled, wiping at your face. “I just forgot you were here. Sorry.”

How you could have possibly forgotten about the dreamboat houseguest for even a moment, you weren’t sure. And now he was wiping the floor clean for you in nothing but joggers, looking like he lived here. As if. That would be lovely, but you told yourself not to be deluded.

You moved away, pulling a clean towel out of a cupboard as he placed the sullied one - and your half-empty can - in the sink.

When you both were done, he stood before you, his impossibly blue eyes searching your now-reddened ones.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated. “Doesn’t matter.”

He shrugged, a smile playing on his lips, eyes soft with affection. “Tell me anyway.”

You sighed, hugging yourself as you looked away. “It’s just- There comes a time in the night where everyone just… pairs off. So I’m standing there, alone, watching all the old couples dancing…” You shut your eyes as you trailed off, wincing as you recalled how awkward you’d felt and what had happened next.

Will hummed. “And you with no date of your own.”

“That was part of it.” You shrugged, feeling stupid. You’d gotten wasted in an attempt to ease your discomfort, but it had just made you ornery.

Will stepped over to the boombox that sat on top of the sideboard buffet. He pressed play, unsure what to expect when the CD whirred to life inside.

You laughed when Michael Bublé’s version of ‘Put Your Head on My Shoulder’ started playing. “Oh god, Aunt Macy…”

But Will stepped over to you with his hands out to invite you to dance, his expectant expression telling you he was serious about the offer.

You took his hands and swallowed as he guided one to his shoulder so he could grip your waist on that side, your other hands held fast, palm-to-palm. You let him lead you in slow, careful steps on the uneven kitchen tiles.

“You’re a better dancer than I would have thought,” you murmured. Especially with a leg injury.

Will smiled sardonically. “Picked it up cuz chicks love to slow dance, and loads of guys won’t do it.”

You snickered, moving closer to hug him close like you did at school dances as a teen. Lost in the euphoria of pressing against his bare torso, you shut your eyes to stop the room from spinning.

You could feel his body radiating heat, warming your bare shoulders and arms as you tried to identify what he smelled like.

“It’s nice,” you murmured. You wanted to stay like this for a long time.

He swallowed, moving his hand up your back to hold you close. It happened to find the exposed skin, and he wondered suddenly if this was alright.

You were clearly drunk, and you barely knew each other. He thought again about how vulnerable you’d made yourself, letting a strange man into your home like this, knowing what other men might do in this situation; how they might hurt you. 

His hand twitched against your bare back and he pressed his chin to your shoulder, his beard tickling your skin.

You should know better, he thought. You should be more careful.

Of course, you weren’t at all concerned about him being a threat. You were completely comfortable in his hold, despite only knowing him a few days. Blissed out, your sour mood had completely dissolved thanks to his kind gesture. To you, Will was just further proof that the world could be good to you if you gave it a chance. 

You pulled back a bit, moving your head to try to meet his gaze. He mirrored your actions, tucking his lower lip under his teeth briefly as you searched his pale blues.

“You should have come,” you lamented. One of your hands moved up to cup his scruffy cheek. “I would have liked that much better.”

He frowned, still unclear what exactly had happened to upset you.

Then you tipped forward, catching him off-guard. He stilled as your lips met his, his eyes closing as he kissed back automatically before he could think straight. It was only when he identified the taste of alcohol in your kiss that he stopped.

Fuck, what am I doing?

He pulled away suddenly as the song ended and hit the stop button on the machine. He wiped his mouth with his hand as he took a deep breath, then turned to face you again.

“We should get you to bed,” he suggested.

You pointed at him, then stepped closer to boop his nose. “I will get myself to bed.”

Will nodded, tense with discomfort. That had more or less been what he meant, but he understood that you may have taken that as him trying it on. “Good.”

“Thank you for the dance.” “My pleasure.” “Good night Will Johnson.”

“Night,” he nodded. “Oh! Bring your water bottle.” “For bed?” “For the hangover you’re going to have tomorrow.”

You gestured dismissively.

“Pahhhh.”

Still, he pulled your bottle out of the fridge and pressed it into your hands before watching you stumble down the hallway.

Your nonchalance made him question what you’d been thinking when you’d kissed him. Were you too drunk to realize? Though he couldn’t deny he’d wanted to kiss you for days now. A conversation for tomorrow.

He shook his head, smiling to himself, but after a moment he leaned against the counter and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

His mind raced with impossible scenarios; Kel Morrison and his men surrounding the cottage, trying to get in. Trying to get him. Or you.

He winced at the pain in his leg - maybe dancing had been a bit ambitious when it had already been giving him grief - but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he checked all the doors and windows again.

---

A/N: The WIP currently has 8 parts so we'll see how that goes (usually the stories grow as I write them... oops). Thank you so much for reading this if you did! ♥

Tags: @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @the-butterfly-blues @the-poldarkian @fortheloveofdurin @spngingerbread21 @ichoosechoasandbeingqueer @missihart23

As always, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from a taglist (for everything, for specific characters, etc.)

#deanobingo2023 #will johnson #will johnson fanfic #wanted (2016) #will johnson x reader

[jackiequick]

A Loving Morning with Mr & Mrs. Hangman 💕 • Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin fanfic

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Amber ‘Skysolo’ Kazansky, Hangman x Iceman’s Daughter, Hangman x OC

Setting: A Future fanfic (a year or so after meeting at Top Gun), Established relationship

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun Maverick (2022)

Holiday: Valentine’s Day

—

To say Jake was excited about today was a understatement. Valentine’s Day wasn’t something he was always into, thinking it was a cheap shot way for marketing purposes to use have couples waste money on each other, giving expectations on how love should be and raise the prices on certain items like chocolates and flowers. And they wasn’t wrong, but today felt special because of a certain someone. The certain someone who took his breath away from day one, the moment he saw her at the bar. Amber Kazansky, his angel. To her, he was her happy go lucky flyboy. This man was head over heels in love for his fine lady, he had plans for a simple sweet day.

He woke up early in the morning, well earlier than he’s used to doing, went on a morning jog with a few of his teammates while they’re special lovers stayed in bed asleep or awake starting their day. Jake went to the grocery store to pick up the milk and some bread, and even brought a couple of flowers. He arrived home to their nice home quietly humming a sweet tune that played on his playlist, preparing a tray with food and drinks.

Two grilled cheese sandwiches, two glasses of orange juice, it was too early for champagne, and a bouquet of flowers. Before heading up the stairs, he glanced around his nicely sizable home, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sweet living room across with a fireplace from a open spaced kitchen. Outside from the view to his life going up the stairs you can see from the very window a freshly cut backyard with a small garden nearby filled with flowers and a growing apple tree. Jake smiled to himself, not thinking he would get to share his life and stay stationed out here in the North Island with her but he’s thankful he is. He stepped up the stairs slowly trying not to make sound and keep his balance with the tray he carried, once he opened the door he saw his angel falling in and out of sleep, but still slumbering in bed. He smiled softly to himself stepping into the bedroom, placing the tray on the bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed.

Jake leaned down pushing a few baby blonde hairs away her face and kissed her forehead. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.” He said chuckling seeing her nose scrunch up while trying to pull the covers over her face, as he stopped her, “No can do, missy. Eggs and Bakey.”

“I don’t smell eggs and bakey..I feel bread and cheese.” Amber mumbling as her grumbling frown from being waken up turned into a smile as the smell of breakfast hit her nose, slowly prying her eyes open, “You lie. I smell..flowers?”

“Mhmmm. Flowers, and I didn’t lie completely, we do have eggs and bacons just didn’t have time to bake them yet. Uh, morning!”

“Good morning, flyboy.” Amber sat up rubbing her eyes and smiled at him, softly taking in the brightness of the bedroom coming in from the double windowsills, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, darling!” Jake smiled softly, noticing how funny, they both look with their messy hair sticking up in places, “I made breakfast, hope you like it.”

“I’mma like it. I’m hungry and been waiting for you to get home to eat breakfast.”

“You’ve been awake this whole time?!”

“Sorta? I kept falling in and out of sleep for the last half hour.”

Jake joked while placing the tray in front of them and onto the bed, “I can’t trust you! I’m taking the grilled cheese sandwiches back, woman.”

“Oh hush, I can be trusted!” Amber said joked while taking a bite out of her grilled cheese and humming in delight, “Oh god, this taste delicious.”

“Oh god! You are hungry if a simple my grilled cheese sandwiches are taking your breath away.”

“Don’t ruin the yummy moment. I’mma marry you, this is delicious!”

Jake was taking another bite of his mouth of bread and grinned, “Really?! You wanna be Mr and Mrs. Hangman?!”

Amber nodded while swallowing another bite and smiled, “Mhm! Mrs. Hangman and Co. if your gonna be making me more food like this!”

“What’s your ring size?”

“Around a size 5. I got small hands compared to yours, why?”

“I’ll be back!”

—

Hangman ran off and out of the bedroom after stuffing his mouth with grilled cheese as Skysolo confused and concerned. “Hey! Wait! Hangman Seresin get back here!” Skysolo yelled, finishing her sandwich. She went into the hallway quickly finding Jake trying to find his other shoe almost falling on the floor and searching for red socks as he yelled, “Where are you?! I know your hiding somewhere.” Amber ‘Skysolo’ Kazansky stayed their pinching her nose trying not to laugh and questioning her relationship choices seeing how silly Hangman looked.

Hangman whipped his head around confused and a bit offensive, with a slight pout on his lips. He looked like a lost annoyed puppy, looking at her like she was stupid or something, which only made her laugh more. “What you laughing at?” He asked.

“You dummy!” Skysolo asked chuckling, finding his other red sock underneath his small table near the flower pot.

“Huh?”

“Your acting like a crazy man! Running off after I told you my ring size.”

“Cause I’mma buy you a ring, duh!”

“I don’t need a ring, remember that Hangman.”

—

Hangman stood up with pride and smiles softly at her, he fell in love with her more in that moment. Jake really did fall more in love with her everyday. He wanted to run around town until he found the perfect sliver crusted darling brightly lit ring in all of California, yes he sounded crazy and he remembers how modern she can be with stuff like this, but still he loved the idea. He said, “Why m’lady you are mistaken. My mama always said if you love someone very much and she loves you, you buy her a ring to symbolize your love! My old man did it with my ma’. Now it’s my turn.”

Skysolo couldn’t be more in love with Hangman that she already was. She remembers at times like this how traditional he can be due to how he grew up and how he was raised. But Amber didn’t need no huge glorified ring, as much as she adored jewelry and could never stop wearing them until she the day she died, she didn’t need anything else as long as she has him. She said, “But baby, I don’t need a ring to have the world know how much you love me, I just need you and your silly self. We can wait as long as we want until we say I do.”

“It won’t be a engagement ring just yet. I’m not that crazy, angel! Jeez what kinda man do you think I am? But! How about a compromise?”

“Oh! I’m listening, Mr Hangman.”

Jake then rushed off to find his dog tags that were in his bag downstairs as Amber followed behind in awe of his idea. She had feeling of what it might be as he smirked. He sat at the nearby coffee table in the center of the living room holding some tools as he got to work. One thing Jake Seresin was, is being a bit of a handyman around the house. She sat behind him, holding tools for him smiling.

Once Jake was done he held up the chain from his dog tags that he turned into a cute little ring. It was simple but held a lot of meaning with it. He shouted with joy,“ Ah ha! For you my lady.”

She chuckles slipping it onto her ring finger and nuzzled up close to him. He wrapped his arms around his princess. She smiled at her flyboy with awe and joy, “I love it! So I can keep a piece of you wherever I go.”

“Even when I’m far away, I’ll always hold you in my heart. And you will always have a piece me wrapped around your little finger.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hangman.” She said leaning into for a sweet gentle kiss.

“Your welcome, Mrs. Hangman.” He replied closing the gap between them with a special kiss, then continued, “And when I do actually propose we can replace that one for a ginormous rock on your finger.”

“Or! I just place that new ring on top of this, so I can keep both.”

“Fine by me. Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, handsome.”

The rest of the day went very well. A picnic in the park, a walk along the beachside and dancing in the kitchen before they pair had dinner. Which consisted on delicious pizza they ordered and a few comedic pieces of media on Tv.

-

Happy Love Day everyone! Thanks for reading 💕 I hope you liked it and hopefully stick around for more in the future.

Tags: @t-nd-rfoot @hangmanbrainrot @gaminggirlsstuff @mandylove1000 @sherlkore @msrochelleromanofffelton @topgun-imagines @rooster-84 @hanlueluver @starkleila @gcthvile @buckysteveloki-me and etc

#top gun maverick au #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin au #jake seresin fluff #hangman x oc #hangman fluff #hangman imagine #iceman lives #iceman kazansky #iceman daughter #valentines day #glen powell #diana agron

[ponds-of-ink]

Sing The Ghosts A Christmas Carol — Chapter 4 (“The Second Spirit”)

This has got to be my longest chapter so far, now that I’ve put all my separate files together. Whoops.

Anyway, enjoy the chaos! And the potential angst near the end. It, uh, gets a bit real quick.

(Also, side note for people who’ve been following my FNAF things: This is in a different timeline from my usual stuff. So, uhh.. Don’t be concerned if you see events that probably shouldn’t be happening according to my usual stuff. It’s alll part of the plan.)

-

Time now felt like it was crawling. The monitor was still powered down. That ever-present ticking that plagued the office had stopped dead. Even worse, the stillness of the office was driving William to near madness with impatience. He resorted to pacing the floor, muttering names and tossing out theories left and right. The Nightmares had no sense of cheeriness fit for being the Spirit of Christmas, so those were swiftly scratched out of his mind. His own brand of animatronics could fit the role (in their own twisted way), but with Baby’s surprise appearance… No. There was no sense in doing a repeat. Not unless there was a loophole he was missing.

Several minutes passed in this manner. Only a few names and faces lingered by the time he finished his elimination process. “If I’ve got this right,” he thought as he finally stopped pacing, “my main options are either Mister Hippo or Orville. Both of them should be able to embody Christmas cheer.. More or less.” He glanced around his office. By some miracle, the clock ‘woke up’ and resumed its ticking. “Must be close to the hour,” he shrugged before returning to his chair. “Ah, well. I’m sure whoever this spirit is will be happy to see me— If not maliciously gleeful, if my guesswork’s extremely off.”

He waited at his desk. His eyes switched from focusing on one door to the other. His wide-eyed curiosity gradually settled into a discontented frown. The unseen clock did ring, but the next spirit refused to show its face. Or any trace of itself, for that matter.

William got up from his seat. “I might as well get myself some food to pass the time,” he thought as he trudged into one of the empty hallways. “As this ghost has changed its mind last minute, then I must fulfill the role of the banquet host… Though, of course. snacks from a vending machine typically don’t count as a banquet.”

After some careful navigation (and much double-checking the various clocks), he found the machine he was looking for. His eyes scanned the rows of dangling treats while his mind attempted to recollect all of the items held at the original Christmas Present’s Feast. There were no large twelfth cakes or bunches of fruits, but there were candy bars of several kinds. And, perhaps to replace all the meat-based options, a pack of those meatball bites would suffice.

Once he finished planning out his (arguably meager) meal, he dug through his pockets. Much to his disappointment, he only had two coins. “Then I must have a Plunder-Bar and that meatball packet,” he concluded swiftly, readying to slip his first coin into the slot of the vending machine. “That way, I can—“

A new smell floated in from some nearby room. William’s entire body froze. Not because it was a terrible smell, mind you. In fact, it was actually quite pleasant. Like the scents a person is greeted with at a bakery. Warm bread, freshly baked cakes of many flavors, and maybe even some other sweet treats yet to be noticed.

The only real problem was the sudden pang of hunger William felt as he processed this new phenomenon. “Steady, Will,” he quietly chided himself as he placed his coins back in his pocket. “No need to start drooling over proper food yet. It could very well be a trap.”

Cautiously, he slipped back out into the hallway. He followed the scents, glancing around multiple times. His brief journey led him to a closed door with a warm, orangish light shining from a sliver of an opening. He straightened his posture, corrected any “sloppier” areas in his outfit, then placed his hands on the door.

His eyes met a small party room all prepared for the occasion. Garlands of red and green lined the top and bottom of the muted walls. Candles with ghostly flames lit the room, sitting in the middle of a rectangular table. The food on said table matched the smells he sensed earlier, which only made his hunger gnaw at him even more. Fortunately, the bear-like figure at the table was already motioning for him to come join. “What are you waiting for!?” it chortled in a frenzied, yet raspy voice. “Come on! The cupcakes don’t bite here! Come in and know me better, my man!”

“It’s just ‘man’ at the end, but I respect your dedication to your role,” William responded simply, approaching his host with some hesitation. “Tell me, ‘Molt’, are you the Ghost of Christmas Present? Or are you just here to be the first to mess with me today?”

“Molt” burst into another fit of laughter, though it now sounded a bit more controlled. “Of course I’m your next Spirit!” he exclaimed, snatching a full plate from off the table. “Who else could show you all the fun stuff you’re missing out on!?”

“I can think of a few,” William answered casually, finally taking a seat. “But I will give you some credit: The other options would not help me ‘stay awake’ long enough to hear my lessons.” He chortled at his own joke, then went somberly quiet. “Now, before we discuss matters,” he resumed, eyeing the dishes before him. “Is it all right if I have something? I almost think it’d be a terrible shame if I ruin your display.”

“It’d be a shame if you didn’t!” Molt retorted, handing William the snatched plate. “Go on! Be my guest!”

Sensing no immediate danger, William took up his host’s offer. He grabbed a nearby fork and stabbed into a large slice of sponge cake. Every ghostly sense buzzed after he took his first bite. His apprehensions  melted away into the more he dug into the cake, as did all formalities. By the time he finished his third slice, however, he remembered that he wasn’t alone. “I know I don’t need to apologize for acting ‘ridiculous’ to you,” he said as he wiped himself off with a paper napkin. “But I feel like all of my.. erm.. ‘pigging out’ has been a bit uncalled for.”

The bear leaned over the table. His newly-polished face somehow gave a disapproving glare. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said with a serious tone. “You, Mister ‘Can’t Resist A Good Promise’, are turning down my offer? My actual, real chance to enjoy yourself? Has life seriously been that much of a pain in the neck wires that you’d rather suffer even more than you actually need to?”

William calmly set the plate back down onto the table. “I assume that your last question is rhetorical,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulder. “And so, I answer ‘yes’… With the obvious caveat that it’s all my fault, of course. I shan’t forget that.”

Molt let out an exasperated strain. “Then you also ‘shan’t’ forget why I’m here!” he cried, flailing out an arm. “I am supposed to be the guy who gives to everybody— Even the lowliest, nastiest, and downright stubborn people on the planet.”

William’s eyes widened. “I see your point,” he said in a surprisingly meek tone. “But, if it weren’t for my faulty memory on your Christmas Specter, I would argue that you’re misrepresenting him at a little— If not, a lot.” He paused for a moment, as if trying to think back on the story as a whole. “I suppose if we’re going for a general take like most adapters do, we should be fine,” he answered timidly. “Just take me to our first stop before one of us says something that will be instantly regretted. We do have a limited amount of time, after all.”

Molt only muttered a quick “oh yeah” before slithering around to the other side of table. “Just hold onto my arm and keep walking,” he instructed, holding out a sleeve-covered arm. “The world’ll change around us in a blink of an eye, but I think you’re used to that already.”

“Yes, I am,” William answered, readily latching his arm around his guide’s. “Lead on, Spirit.”

The pair wandered back into the main hallway. Unlike the whirlwind rush that was The Spirit of The Past’s method of transportation, the Spirit of the Present was shockingly slower. They strolled down the hallway, neither really seeming to notice the scenery melting into a snow-covered Main Street. All was dark, save the occasional store with the neon sign declaring that it was still open. William shivered at the cold, but the stillness of the night truly concerned him. “I now understand why most Spirits of Christmas Present don’t rely on ‘real time’ when showing visions of the current day,” he noted, looking at a clock at a somehow-occupied cafe. “It’s the dead of night.”

Molt peered over William’s shoulder, then harrumphed. “So much for that market I was going to take you to,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It was going to be so much fun! …For you, anyway. Lots of little shops with homemade stuff, food like the ones back at my table— We could’ve even seen some kid get scared by a guy in a weird Sandy Claus costume! That would’ve made my trip to this place a lot better!”

William chuckled in spite of himself. “As much as I love gatherings, I think I can sit this one out,” he smiled. “However, it would be nice if we could see one Christmas party in action. Just for the fun of it.” He pondered on that last remark as they trudged down the sidewalk. Soon, his eyes lit up. “Say,” he piped up, snapping his fingers, “you don’t think we can go to that old barn I used to visit?”

Molt’s ears raised a little. “We can try,” he said, picking up his speed a little. “Just think about the barn, and I’ll see if we can get us there!“

William shut his eyes. He blocked out the horrible memories the previous ghost revived. His mind focused on those sights he used to know. The barn out in the snow, candles lighting the inside like a jack o’lantern. The buggies and older model cars eagerly traveling down long stretches of snowy roads, including the vehicle he rode in. The banquet tables… The people dancing and singing along to the band…

He opened his eyes. To his surprise, they were on the same stretch of road that he and Baby visited. Except, by some even greater miracle, it was actually clear of ice and snow. His eyes bounced from the cleared pavement to the scene before him. His ghostly heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “Spirit, look!” he cried, quickly grabbing Molt by the sleeve. “The barn’s still there! Refurbished beyond belief, yes, but there it stands!”

Molt only cackled with glee. “Come on, then, Christmas Boy!” he exclaimed, slithering past the equally thrilled man. “We’ve got a party to crash!”

William’s joyful expression faltered for a moment. Hang on. They couldn’t really crash this party. They had no abilities to interact with the human world… Didn’t they? Or did that only count for the past and the future, as those are merely recreations of events? If the latter was the case, then did that mean he had the power to intervene if needed? Or was Molten Freddy potentially the only one with this “gift”, due to his current status of a Ghostly Guide?

All of these questions William swiftly cast aside as they neared the barn. What mattered now was the fact that the barn was still lit inside. Which meant, much to his delight, the new owners were keeping the Christmas Barn Dance alive.

Or they had just wandered into a Christmassy bridal shower by complete accident. Honestly, either was possible at this point.

But, feeling a renewed sense of confidence, William gladly followed behind his hurrying guide. Both of them phased through the door, remaining completely undetected by the clustered groups before them. Candles still shone in the windows, though the “wax” was plastic and the colors less vintage. The refreshments table remained vigilant beside the doors, but the  treats were much less grand. Even the live band was replaced with a stereo, some speakers, and a very diligent music-mixer watching the equipment.

Yet William and Molt still looked at each other with mutual wonder.

A mutual wonder which, of course, fueled into their separate plans. Molten Freddy bounded towards the closest group of chatterboxes while William wandered along the walls. The latter specter took in the changed atmosphere. “We’ve arrived near the end of the Barn Dance,” he thought to himself as he observed his fellow guests. “The party animals are worn out. The music has gone mellow. I think I even see a couple of yawners here and there.“ He sighed to himself. “A shame,” he resumed quietly, putting his back up against the wall. “I was looking forward to one last dance underneath these new lighting fixtures. Or at least some sort of ‘grand finale’, however newfangled it could be.”

As he further pondered the what-could-have-beens, his eyes lazily surveyed the area. All things matched what he said, save for the occasional gasp of surprise from the group Molten Freddy ‘chatted’ with. They definitely had some more energy to spare, minimal though it was.

One by one, the more weary guests walked up to a young couple and said farewell. William waved to each of them, though he was well aware no one could see him at this point. In a matter of minutes, most of the room had been officially cleared out. The couple was now in talks with the stereo man, some other guests wrapped up their conversations and slipped out, and…

William rubbed his eyes. There stood a young boy, no more than ten, right in the middle of the room. And this stranger was absolutely mortified as he looked around the ballroom. Though the music made it hard to hear, William was absolutely certain that the poor thing was looking for his mother.

Carefully, William neared the middle of the room. His entire body trembled. He focused his attention on the adjacent walls, keeping track of the remaining adults. A few friends sharing equally concerned expressions with each other on the North Side. The unfortunately unknowing couple and their hired DJ on The East Side. As for the South Side—

William stopped to a halt. An extremely tired woman had just exited the barn, holding out her gloved hand as if she was walking alongside her child. He looked back at the child, who was now nervously eyeing the party’s hosts.

Out of some buried instinct, William rushed past the boy and hurried after the woman. Without any extra planning, he snatched her glove and sped inside back towards the barn. He dropped the glove on the doorstep, turned his head to make sure his ear-splitting whistle was “heard”, then rushed to hide behind a very puzzled Molten Freddy.

The bewildered woman picked up the glove, then spotted the boy. The boy, practically overwhelmed with relief, hurried to his mother’s arms. The mother, now realizing her error, hugged him tightly. They apologized to each other, then to any person who went up to ask what in the world happened.

As they reconciled further, Molt looked back at William. “Why’d you do that?” the bear asked, his head tilted to one side. “You had every opportunity to lure him over to me! Or to you! Why’d you not take that chance?”

William’s warm grin dropped as soon as the question sunk in. “I just didn’t see the need to,” he muttered darkly, crossing his arms. “What? You think I still have enough care in me to worry about other people’s problems?”

“No,” Molt retorted, his own face contorting into its own version of a sneer. “But I’m sure somebody’s going to after that whole stunt. I think those two are going to start calling you a ‘Guardian Angel’, since you broke through that radio thing.”

William turned his attention to the trio close by. The DJ, from what he could catch, still had no idea what caused the “weird whistle glitch”. As for the couple, they jokingly tossed around the idea of the barn being haunted. Even going so far as to suggest it was ‘Mavis Afton making up for her son’s mess-ups’, which William hardly believed that he heard it correctly. Not wanting to dwell on the implications, he glanced back at his now-sniggering guide. “Let’s go home,” he said tiredly, placing his hand on Molt’s shoulder. “I… don't feel like creating another mythological creature for people to chase after. Not tonight, at least.”

“Don’t want to bring your mother into this, huh?” Molt chuckled, wrapping his arm around William’s.

William’s glare turned ice cold.

Molt winced. “Okay, okay,” he added, slowly pulling the frazzled man towards the door. “We’ll head straight back home. We’ll even go to your office, if that’s what you want.”

William stayed silent. He did peer over his shoulder to check on the mother and her son, but the world was already changing back to the prison he knew.

As promised, both were now in his office once again. The unseen clock ticked on. The adjacent rooms remained empty. All in all, a very quiet night.

However, this only made William even more discontented. “Well, now where’s the Christmas Party?” he asked, motioning an arm towards the hallways. “Isn’t it a staple of this story that Scrooge goes and visits the house of his nephew Fred by now?”

“Yeah, but we’re too early,” Molt responded, casually stretching his arm as if he needed to exercise at the moment. “I can only do the ‘real time’ stuff, remember?”

William put a hand to his face. “You cannot tell me that no one’s currently taking ample opportunity to talk behind my back,” he muttered darkly. “Especially Ballora.”

Molt grinned shakily. “Of course!” he exclaimed, his hyper laugh now sounding even more unsteady than before. “Everybody’s saving all of that for the big day tomorrow! Why would we ever take the opportunity to talk behind your back now when we have plenty of time to do it tomorrow?”

“Because everyone’s robotic little heads will be spinning because of this little endeavor,” William answered, his voice more smug than annoyed.“My twisted soul? Vanishing from this place entirely? What a terrible thing for the outside world, but a beautiful opportunity for my ever-present taunters back home.”

“Fine,” he drew out, rolling his eyes defeatedly. “We’ve been practicing a few games for tomorrow. Whack the Purple Piñata, The Annual Christmas Sing-Off, Chase The Cupcake— Oh, yeah! Before I left, I had a pretty big lead in our guessing game.”

“Do you think we can pop in and check on that? You know, just to pass the time?”

Molt turned away from William. “All right,” the bear answered darkly. “But you better keep quiet. I dunno how everyone’s going to feel about an uninvited guest showing up to the Pre-Party.”

“I’ll be as silent as the grave,” William vowed, putting a hand to his heart. “Head on heart, hope to fly.”

Molt muttered something as he slipped into the right hallway. William soon followed behind him. They crept down the winding path, making sure their movements made very little noise. As they neared their destination, laughter and a multitude of whirring servos echoed off the walls. Molt picked up in speed while William’s gait slowed to a crawl. Once they finally arrived, Molt charged into the room with arms frantically waving. And, to William’s surprise, a few of the other animatronics actually greeted the wiry thing like an old friend. “You’re just in time for the big showdown!” Happy Frog called out, her cheery voice  loud and clear. “Pigpatch caught up to you while you were taking care of Afton. You’re both tied for first!”

“Where is that big lug, anyway?” Pigpatch asked, lowering his banjo to better see his newfound rival. “You better not’ve left him at the other A’s house.”

“Relax!” Molt cried out, settling himself into an empty restaurant chair. “He’s back in the office thinking that I’m dunno what I’m doing. Heh. Won’t he be in for a surprise…”

William raised an eyebrow at these words, but kept quiet. He watched as the other robots joined the conversation, their voices overlapping so that it was impossible to tell what exactly was being said. His eyes shifted towards the large, uncovered stage. Funtime Foxy, dressed from head to toe in a festive suit, tapped his microphone. A loud feedback whine emitted from the speakers, prompting everyone to cover their ears (or the closest things to them). “If I may have your attention please,” he blared out in his showman’s voice. “We’re all tied up on the Guessing Game, and I don’t want to slow down this portion of our Game Night any further!”

Reluctantly, the animatronic audience turned their attention back to the stage. Even Pigpatch set down his partly retuned banjo, though he did it very begrudgingly.

“Thank you,” Fun-Fox resumed in a more relaxed manner. “Now, while you were talking among yourselves, Ballora came up with a real stumper!” He then gestured to Ballora, who was currently ascending the stage’s staircase. “For this round, she’ll be the one giving clues,” he explained further. “Remember, everyone: no more than three guesses per person! There’s no use in trying to whittle down the answer in front of anyone who hasn’t had a turn.” He then handed the microphone over to Ballora, who gracefully settled into her best stance. “Your first clue is that it’s alive,” she informed, gently speaking into the microphone.

“I got it! I got it!” Happy Frog yelled out, flailing an arm. “A dog!”

“Sorry, but no,” Ballora answered calmly. “And, to help the rest of you out, I’ll give you one more clue: It’s not an animal.”

The other robots fell into a contemplative state. A small group tossed suggestions to each other. Several others leaned back and shut their eyes. Pigpatch picked his banjo back up, his mouth moving as he resumed his tuning. Molten Freddy himself had his elbows propped up against his would-be legs— Which surprised the still-cowering William.

After a moment of mutual silence, Pigpatch halted his work. “I dunno,” he spoke up, raising his free shoulder a little. “How ‘bout a person?”

Ballora’s faceplates twitched. “No,” she answered again, nearing the edge of the stage. “But you’re getting warmer.”

“A ghost!” Happy called out enthusiastically.

“Definitely not,” Ballora replied with a chuckle. “But, once again, you’re getting warmer.”

A sudden thought entered William’s mind. He looked around the room, eyeing the large crowd of robots. Miscellaneous animatronics sat in front, processing all of this new information. The Mediocre Melodies (aside from Pigpatch) sat in the middle section, chattering amongst themselves. As for the back row, the more broken-down of the bunch lingered on or outright fell asleep. Even the ever-silent Scraptrap had a hard time staying awake.

William clung to the walls as he finally snuck into the room. He waited until another litany of guesses was being thrown, then made a break for the back row’s table. He crept right behind them, counting in his head as he went. One death wish to avoid, two death wishes to avoid…

At about the seventh chair, he tapped on Scraptrap’s shoulder. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms recently,” the man prefaced as quietly as he could, “but would you mind if I help you stay awake?”

Scraptrap wearily glanced at William. He only mumbled some sign of approval and readjusted his seat.

William lightly gripped Scraptrap’s bad arm, sending purple sparks across his entire body. Scraptrap jolted upright, alerting Ballora. “Do you have a guess, Scraptrap?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Scraptrap nervously raised his hand. “Is it a robot of some sort?” he asked slowly, as if he was trying to remember how to talk properly again.

“Yes,” Ballora responded, a proper smile showing through her tone. “It is a robot. Good guess, Scraptrap.”

The rest of the audience marveled at the rabbit’s guess. Scraptrap himself put a hand to his throat as William reappeared from behind the table. “You’re welcome,” William murmured, winking to the puzzled rabbit before retreating back to the doorway.

Now completely reinvigorated, the participants threw out guesses left and right. Some threw out names of their fellow animatronics, which Ballora shot down with casual precision. Others attempted to guess on a technicality, shouting out robots advertised as “being alive”. These too were swiftly eliminated, making the options very slim.

Then, Happy Frog finally gave a good guess: Was it a mean robot? And, to her delight, she was absolutely correct.

So then the method changed. Several of the remaining guessers chattered among themselves (though Fun-Fox had to remind them not to spoil their guesses). Pigpatch and Molten Freddy kept to themselves, as they now only had one guess left. As for William, he decided to leave Scraptrap and Springtrap alone for the rest of the game. Besides, he was as stumped as the majority of them.

Pigpatch finally finished tuning his banjo. He looked at the large stage with a tired scowl. “This might be outta left field,” he said wearily, “but I’m starting to think it’s one o’ those newfangled robots. Not a Glam-rocking model, but something close.”

Ballora’s posture straightened. “Yes, it is technically a newer robot,” she replied uneasily. “I would ask which one you’re thinking of, but you’re out of guesses.”

Pigpatch chuckled with a snort. “It’s no skin off my back,” he answered, leaning back in his seat. “I didn’t even have a real guess, anyway. Lemme know who wins when I wake up.” He then fell asleep before anyone could wish him goodnight.

One last silence of contemplation followed. William was chanting for Springtrap this entire time, but now even he was stumped. “I didn’t know Fazbear Entertainment survived,” he thought as he processed the clues. “Who could possibly fit the description the clues gave other than my Springtrap variants?”

Suddenly, Molten Freddy jumped from his seat. “I got it!!” he yelled out, his frenzied laugh reaching new levels.

“Are you sure?” Ballora asked, leaning closer to the edge of the stage. “You have one more guess.”

“Yes! Yes! I’m sure!”

“All right, then. Let’s hear it.”

Molten Freddy jumped back onto his seat, ensuring everyone could see him. “We’ve got a living robot who’s really mean and tricky,” he recapped in a enthusiastic tone. “It’s technically new because nobody ever heard of it until a year or two ago, but it’s been around lot longer. It misleads both kids and adults alike with its expert acting skills— Who else could be but The Mimic!?”

All eyes were on Ballora. Ballora backed up until she was at the center of the stage. She twirled the microphone in her hand as she ‘inhaled’ deeply. “You’re right,” she answered softly, lowering her head a little. “I was thinking of The Mimic.”

The middle and front rows erupted into cheers. The back row split off, either congratulating Molten Freddy on his victory or telling a now-wide-awake Pigpatch who won. Fun-Fox tried to still the crowd once again, but everyone was too thrilled to care.

William, meanwhile, just gawked in disbelief. He waited in his little corner, anxiously eyeing Molten Freddy until he finally gave his farewells. “Wasn’t that fun!?” the bear laughed, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“It was,” William responded uneasily, adjusting his collar. “But, Molt… Who in the world is the Mimic??”

Molt’s happiness dampened. “Oh yeah,” he muttered darkly. “He’s a guy that Goldie’s been eyeing for a while now. We thought he was just a random endo-skeleton, but no. He’s a bunch of trouble on his own.”

“‘A bunch of trouble’ sounds a bit mild, given what I’ve heard,” William answered grimly. “He’s been recruiting people to do heinous things? People who may not even be doing these things willingly?”

Molt slumped his shoulders. “Guess now might be a good time to take you to our next stop,” he responded, slithering away from the concerned man. “Come on, you’ll learn more about him there.”

With a strange sense of morbid curiosity, William trailed behind Molt. The lengthy hallways once again melted away, but didn’t reveal a barely-lit Main Street. Instead, they were now walking in some suburban neighborhood. Decorations of all sorts manned the rows of houses. Some spoke of peace and goodwill towards men, others threatened to blind the ghostly pair with the abundance of flashing lights, and a few mystified William— if only for a moment.

In the midst of all these wonders, Molt stopped at a simpler house. Strands of red and white lights twinkled in the darkness, outlining the front of the house. A candy cane lane paved the way for the front door, which William promptly took. He glanced at the yard, taking in the rest of the sights. A snowman family stood vigilant, ever-smiling despite their circumstances. The bushes that surrounded the house also shined, but their glow was much dimmer than the rest. The front porch only contained an ice-smeared rug and a simple wreath hanging on the door.

Unwilling to disturb the strangers at this hour, William sat down on the porch. “Spirit,” he spoke up softly, grabbing the bear’s attention, “is this just another case of horrible timing? Or is there something else at play?”

Molt hobbled towards William. “I think it’s just a case of bad timing myself,” he answered tiredly.

“Then why is there so little cheer here?“ William asked further, motioning to the yard. “The lack of decorations I can almost understand. I’m sure those poor souls are doing all they can to stay under the radar after the Mimic’s absolute destruction of their minds.” He shuddered as certain clues from the guessing game flashed through his imagination. “But surely they can still celebrate despite that,” he resumed, trying to keep a steady tone. “Where’s the Christmas tree shining in the window? Or the electric fireplace? Or even a late night of watching a beloved Christmas movie to help fall back asleep! Something—Anything—that would dissuade the dread they must feel!”

Molt frowned skeptically, but stretched out his arm. “Come with me,” he instructed. “All your questions will be answered in a second.”

William took Molt’s arm and rose to his feet. They walked to the side of the house, then stopped at a shut window. “This is Gregory’s bedroom,” Molt explained, putting a wiry hand on the awning. “Now, I dunno what’s inside, but The Puppet’s ghost told me that there’s a bunch of scary drawings in there. Drawings that I think somebody like you could figure out.”

William looked at the shut window. He breathed slowly, then phased into the room. His eyes adjusted to the near-darkness before him. A small bed with cartoonish covers barricaded a part of his left side. On the right was a drawing table littered with papers and artist tools. Unwilling to accidentally wake the boy in the bed, William cautiously crept to the desk. The more ghostly side of his vision made the drawings shine as if they were painted in black-light. He filtered through all of them as they were messily laid out, mentally casting aside the ones that looked like mere daydreams. Picture by picture, a story started to form. A story about The Mimic’s bizarrely induced hypnosis, the many grievous events that followed between Gregory and someone called Vanessa (who somehow felt familiar, though he couldn’t really say why), and a young girl named Cassie who suffered a horrific accident shortly after they were set free. An accident Gregory blamed on himself, if the most recent drawing was anything to go by.

Though many details were most likely left out, William felt a pang in his soul. He backed away from the desk, fighting the urge to not fall into a fit of pity. His misty eyes failing him (as well as the fear of being caught by Vanessa) prompted him to retreat back outside. “Spirit,” he choked out, grabbing Molt by the shoulders. “please tell me that this Cassie is still alive.”

“That’s not for me to answer,” Molt answered surprisingly fast. “But why are you so worried about her?“

William grimaced for a moment. “I’m not worried for my own sake,” he corrected hoarsely. “I’m worried because of Gregory. It seems like he’s very upset about this whole elevator shaft incident when it’s not even his fault. Or, if it is, then I don’t think it was without a cause. I have no doubt this Mimic is involved somehow, given the slew of those hastily drawn scribbles.”

Molt’s frown strengthened. “Let me ask again,” he said firmly, “Why do you care so much about somebody you just met?”

William made no response.

Molt scoffed darkly. “Besides, why do you think they should have any good things happen to them?” he questioned mockingly, a spiteful grin forming. “Goodwill should be reserved for those who deserve it, after all! The best they rightfully deserve is either the chance to go to jail for what they’ve done or live a life of absolute misery!” He then burst into a hysterical laugh, which only froze William’s entire guilt-ridden body.

Thankfully, the sound of a clock chiming from some other decoration interrupted this horrible scene. “It’s five to three here,” William piped up, habitually adjusting his collar. “Is there anywhere else we need to go?”

Molt’s wild eyes relaxed. “Well, I was going to take you to one more stop,” he admitted as he crossed his arms. “But since you’ve been such a party pooper, I’ve decided not to. Looks like you’ll have to sit out the last Christmas party— Not that you were ever invited to that one too.”

“I suppose you can just drop me off back ‘home’, then,” William concluded glumly, lowering his head a little. “Before we part, however, can you at least give me an estimate for how long Gregory and Vanessa’s Christmas cheer will last? Or anything like the warning your forebear gave to Scrooge about Tiny Tim?”

Molt’s shoulders slumped. “If everything goes the way it’s headed,” he began quietly, “I think Greg and Vanny are going to be having a worse time next Christmas. Maybe even before then, if The Mimic or somebody else manages to catch ‘em.” Then, his expression turned malicious yet again. “But, like I said, why should you care? Do you really think you have it in you to worry about other people’s problems?” He let out another harsh laugh as his wires wriggled all around him. Everything then faded to nothingness as the bitter cackle drifted into silence.

William stood motionless. The office materialized around him, as still and silent as him. Many thoughts swirled around in his mind. Was Molten Freddy right twice in a row? Did none of them deserve any of the goodness that came into their lives? Even those who were coerced into repeating the same horrible patterns that he himself created? Did he doom them to a life of absolute misery without once meeting them before tonight?

His heart pounded. He gripped the edge of his desk, as if that would stop the spiraling he was undergoing. “No!” he cried in his mind, gnashing his teeth. “Surely the future won’t be as grim as that! Surely the worst that could happen is Cassie escaping and plotting some short-lived revenge! Surely, they won’t suffer the same fate I’ve suffered some distant day! I won’t have this! I—“

The unseen clock chimed again. Three o’clock had come in the human world. And so had the last visitor, now standing on the opposite end of the desk.

#william afton #molten freddy #sing the ghosts a christmas carol #fnaf fanfic #nanowrimo #long chapter #very long chapter #other characters mentioned

[seas-storyarchive]

Maman's Birthday - What if

[[MORE]]

It had been a rough few months after the extermination. The hotel had to be repaired, wounds being stitched. And it seemed everyone was slowly getting into brighter spirits.

And the one who seemed to make the biggest stride, shockingly enough was Alastor. Until.. well..

The hotel residents woke up to amazing smells coming from the kitchen, making everyone lumber down to see what it was. On the large dining table, was a wide variety of intersting foods. It all smelled and looked super good.

"Hey, who made dis spread?" Angel asked, drooling slightly.

"Bonjour, chums!"

The joyous sound of Alastor's voice broke everyone's attention from the table, in fear.

The man was wearing his usual ensemble, save for his suit jacket but in it's place was a red vest covered with a.. was that a pink apron?? On his face was a smile, although not the usual malicious one. In his hands was a baking tray of homemade biscuits.

"Hi Alastor!" Charlie greeted, equally as enthused as him. "What's all of this stuff?" She gestured to the table. "It smells amazing."

"Merci, Charlotte." Alastor smiled to her, before moving past her to put the biscuits into a basket that was lined with a bread towel. "Oh, just a special occasion." He said, straightening his posture with the pan now empty that he moved from the table.

"What's the occasion, stretch?" Lucifer asked, sitting down and grabbing one of the biscuits as well as a butter knife and the accompanying butter dish, before opening it and spreading butter onto it.

"If you must knew, monsieur." Alastor's eye twitched. "It is my dear Mother's birthday. And I was hoping to share a favorite past time of mine for this day, making dear mother's favorite foods- a full three square meals for the day made with Mother's favorite foods- from her own recipes, through me, right to all of you."

"Oh Alastor! That's so beautiful!" Charlie wiped a tear from her eye. "If you need any help celebrating, just let us know."

"Oh, non non, Charlotte." Alastor tapped her nose with his pointer finger. "Just let me man the kitchens today, with my assistants being my trusty radio, Mother's recipe book and picture of her, as well as memories." He said, sounding sentimental.

"Unholy shit, Smiles!" Angel's voice made them look to the man - he had a plate of casserole, and was lowering his fork to the plate. "I don't know what the fuck dis is, but I am hard now! It was instant!"

Alastor, ignoring the more.. explicit part, decided to educate everyone as they all sat down to partake. "That, Angel and other chums, is cheesy grits casserole with smoked sausage. Mother's most requested dish for her birthday."

His eyes gained a mischievous glint to them. "Oh, and the butter that you slathered on your biscuit, monsieur," he put the attention on Lucifer, "was freshly churned by yours truley this morning."

"No fuckin' way!" Angel retorted, another bit of grits in his mouth - he reached for the dish and biscuits. "Gimmie dat shit!"

Alastor, now helping Niffty onto her seat, laughed quietly. "Just let me know if it needs to be replenished, I have another batch." A timer went off, making the man's ears turn towards the kitchen. "Oh, bonté! The sweet potato biscuits!" He looked quickly from the door to Niffty and Charlie.

"I'll help her out, Al." Charlie said, smiling as she poured some orange juice for Niffty.

"Merci, Charlotte cher." The man rushed off to the kitchen- everyone catching sight of a red deer tail, the tip being black and it was wagging (in enrichment) just below the knot in the apron.

Angel spat biscuit crumbs onto his plate in laughter. "Oh my goodness! What da fuck!"

Vaggie, picking at her food, looked at Charlie. "Are you sure we can trust this stuff?"

Charlie kept her smile as she looked at Vaggie, "I know how you feel, but if his mother brings him happiness and this is how he expresses it, this might be the key to his redemption."

"Maybe.." Vaggie said, pulling the muffin to her lips and taking a bite. She wouldn't admit it, but that was one good muffin.

"I ain't too sure about this either, Vaggie." Husk said, also picking at his food. "But I ain't gonna talk to boss about this."

"Pfft. What's the big deal?" Lucifer now had the floor, eating another biscuit, it was covered in some gravy looking stuff now. "Let the busboy be a busboy, it suits him." He muttered something about lowerclass sinners between bites.

"Dad!" Charlie was shocked on Alastor's behalf. "Imagine if I wanted to celebrate6yt you or mom like this, and you weren't here, and someone said that about me! What would you say? How would you think I would feel?"

Lucifer didn't say anything after that, but he didn't look guilty either

Alastor came back in with a tray of sweet potato biscuits. "Now, don't worry if there is any left over. As Mother always said, a meal worth having once, is worth having twice." He noticed the tension in the room, his ears flicking. He dumped the biscuits into another basket. "Did I, miss anything?"

"No." Came the shared response of Charlie and Lucifer - Charlie was annoyed and her dad was quiet.

Alastor nodded to them. "D'accord.. let me know if you all need anything else as I'll be cleaning up, because there is more than enough to go about right now. I have some that I put to the side and plan to take to Rosie, lass always loved mother's grits and sausage casserole." He chuckled. "Don't worry about stacking the dishes, I'll tend to them when I return, should be around lunch. I can't wait to prepare lunch."

As Alastor washed the dishes he used for the breakfast buffet he prepared, they heard jazz among the running water. Both were fault, but the humming was even fainter. Okay..

"Should we be worried?" Vaggie asked, not having touched anything apart from the muffin despite it all smelling amazing and her being hungry.

"No, I ain't toots." Angel said, going for some more food.

"Aint you gotta watch your figure?" Cherri asked, speaking up as she had been enjoying some cheesy egg & andouille sausage sliders.

"Pfft. I got the day off, so I don't fuckin' care." Angel retorted, piling on the sliders that Cherri had.

"Today could be worse." Husk said, eating a muffin.

After the dishes were washed, everyone ate their fill, and the food was put away, Alastor was on his was out.

"I promise I'll be back chums!" He said to them. "Oh! And please, leave my assistants at their place on the counter. Very vital to my process today!"

Charlie, assuming process meant progress, nodded with a smile. "Sure thing Al! Have fun."

"One last thing," Alastor said, before turning his head 180 degrees to look at everyone with radio dials and a wide smile, "if anyone touches the cake on the counter that is cooling, I will make you into dinner's main course and force everyone else to eat you." He said, his teeth flashing as he spoke. "And I hope you paid attention, Angel, monsieur charlatan." His head turned a bit more that 180 to look at Angel and Lucifer.

"Smiles, I'm too stuffed to move right now. I ain't doin' shit." Angel waved him off using one of his arms.

Lucifer, who was carving ducks gave no indication he heard it either way.

"You have me word, Al. Nothing will happen." Charlie said to him.

"Wonderful! See you all around lunch time!" He waved them goodbye as he left.

Not even two hours later, Vaggie growled in annoyance. That fucking radio was left on! Everyone else seemed to ignore it, too focused on other things, but Vaggie couldn't take it.

She sighed, deciding to just go turn it off. Nothing else would be touched. So, when Vaggie walked in to the kitchen, she saw it was spotless. Save for Alastor's little collection on the corner of the counter and the cake. Fucking idiot.

Vaggie walked to the radio and tried to turn the dial to turn it off - nope. Still playing the same thing. Not even static. She should unplug it - it wasn't even plugged it. By the cloud above, it was driving her nuts.

"Shut up!" Vaggie shouted to the radio, fiddling with the dial.

"What's going on in here?" It was Charlie. "Vaggie, I don't think we should mess with Alastor's stuff-"

"Charlie, I don't fucking care if he's the reincarnation of Jesus Christ reborn as a sinner!" Vaggie had had it with Alastor not being knocked from his high horse, getting whatever he wanted, and Charlie excusing it. "This thing needs to shut up!" She had summoned her spear and stabbed it into the radio.

Oh, it stopped making noise - only to short circuit and then explode. Shards getting everywhere: in the cake, all over Vaggie's wings that she used to cover herself and Charlie, shredding the cookbook and photo. But that wasn't the end of it, nope. The shards were on fire. As was the cookbook, and the photo - the glass on the front was broken and the frame was on fire.

"Vaggie!" Charlie looked from her girlfriends wings, in sympathy. "You didn't have to - No! Put the fire out!" Charlie went to try and put it out, unintentionally making it worse before successfully putting it out.

"What all da racket abou- unholy hell!" Angel was shocked, seeing a disaster of broken radio bits on fire, a ruined cake, and the only two actually in the room were Charlie and Vaggie.

"Oh no! Mr. Alastor's radio! His book!" Niffty looked from the remains of the book and half burned book. "Where's the photo of- oh, no no! He's gonna be so upset!" Niffty saw just a pile of broken glass and small bits of metal.

"We gotta fix this." Husk was actually worried now.

"Fix what, chums?" It was Alastor, who sounded suspicious. And then, he actually surveyed the room - and there was silence.

"I.. Alastor.." Charlie stepped forwards. "I know this looks bad, but we can clean this all up, you can bring down another radio and picture if you want-"

"I.." Alastor said nothing. The last things he had of his mother.. gone. On the day to celebrate his mother.

"Those were all I had left.." his small voice, barely heard, as he stared at the spot where he left those things.

"Then why the fuck were they left there?!" Vaggie didn't get it. Why the fuck was he shocked that those items were destroyed? He left them out.

Alastor didn't answer. He just dropped into his shadow and left.

Everyone looked at Vaggie.

"What?!" Vaggie asked as she picked up her weapon.

"Why da fuck did you do dat!?" Angel spoke up, being one of the last people anyone expected to stand up for Alastor.

"The fucking radio was annoying." Vaggie said.

"You could have done something else!" Niffty said, glaring up at Vaggie. "Anything else, but you broke Mr. Alastor's heart! On one of the only happy days he has left!"

"Why the fuck would I care! I'm not like any of you! I didn't have parents! Just the other angels and fucking Adam!" Vaggie snapped. "I was created as is, so why is that a problem? This is fucking Alastor we're talking about! The fucking Radio Demon! A fucking overlord! Why are we even fucking helping him?"

As this argument was going on, Alastor was laying on his bed, his room locked and dark.

He was weakly humming a lullaby from his childhood, only stopping to whisper to the darkness, "happy birthday, Maman.. I'm so sorry.."

#hazbin hotel #alastor altruist #hazbin alastor #hurt no comfort