#I do wonder if this ramble I made donkey's back

[hercleverboy]

kate!! 50 from general for the prompt list? so excited to read anything you come up with ☺️

amelia!!! much love to you x x

wc ↠ 1.1k

General #50 ↠ “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Spencer took a deep breath before standing up from the table, receiving an encouraging smile from his best man as he made his way to the front of the room.

The quiet chatter among the guests fell silent as everyone turned their attention to the groom, who was about to make his wedding speech. He was nervous, of course. It was wedding day, not even two hours earlier he’d married the love of his life, and now he had to make a speech in front of a room of people. God help him.

“Hi, um.” Spencer looked down at the cue cards that he held in front of him that he’d brought to prompt him with his words. Eidetic memory or not, he didn’t want the speech to sound like it was being read off paper, he didn’t want it to lack feeling and emotion. He looked up, his eyes locking on Y/N, his wife. She could see the worry in his expression, and simply gave him a smile that seemed to work wonders. He looked back down at his cards, before making the last-minute decision to tuck them away in the pocket of his suit jacket, instead deciding to speak from the heart.

He cleared his throat, and then began to recount one of the greatest stories of all time. “The first night that I told Y/N that I loved her, well— it’s a funny story, actually.”

“Morgan had all but forced me to come out to the bar with him and the team after we spent a week over in San Francisco. The case had gone surprisingly well, so I begrudgingly agreed to tag along. Really, I only agreed to go in the hopes that he would stop bothering me.” Spencer chuckled as he looked over to where Morgan sat, his best friend, his best man.

“Never, Pretty Boy. You’re stuck with me.” Morgan called out from his seat, earning a few laughs as Spencer shook his head at his friend.

“I’d been dating Y/N for only a few weeks at that point. Things were going good, but any of the team could tell you—I was absolutely petrified of messing things up. However, that night at the bar I was.. for lack of a better term, I was wasted.” The room erupted with laughter at hearing the genius say the word ‘wasted’, the team laughing the loudest as they recounted the memory. “So much so, that I actually managed to lose my house key? And my phone, uh, my phone was dead. So I had to go to Y/N’s.”

Spencer met Y/N’s eyes again, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw her own amused grin on her lips. “So I get there, and I’m knocking on the door like an idiot because I’m just so excited to see her.”

*

The door opened and Spencer let out a loud gasp at the sight of his girlfriend. “Y/N!” He stumbled forward, losing his balance, and throwing his arms around her. “Oh I missed you soooo much.”

Y/N frowned but couldn’t deny her amusement at his current state. She put her arms around him to steady him before she spoke. “Spencer, what’re you doing here?”

She used the grip she had on him to pull him inside as she closed the door behind him.

“Wellllll I managed to lose my key? So I had to ask the taxi- the taxi guy to drop me off here.” He slurred, sounding confused as he spoke.

Y/N moved him to sit on the couch before going to retrieve him a glass of water.

When she came back, he was drunkenly rambling about a mix of quantum physics and how the third Shrek film made no sense because ‘how did a donkey impregnate a dragon?’ He stopped his rambles when Y/N came back into view, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

“Y/N.” He sang, dragging out her name. “I’m sorry I came here, but I just- I didn’t know where else to go.” He shrugged, explaining it as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He took the glass of water from her, taking a few sips in an over exaggerated and child-like manner.

“It’s okay, Spence. You know you’re always welcome here.”

He grinned at her, placing down the water (nearly missing the coffee table entirely and giving Y/N a near heart attack) before he laid down on the couch, putting his head on her lap and throwing his arms around her waist.

She chuckled, her hands coming down to run through his curls. “You tired?”

He nodded against her. “Hmm. Yep yep. Sleep sounds good.” He murmured.

“You can go to sleep, love. I’ll be here to take care of you in the morning.”

He gave a small smile sleepily. “You always take care of me. Hm.” He slurred, fighting against sleep. “Don’t deserve you.”

Y/N shushed him, hoping that running her hands through his hair would lull him to sleep.

“I love you.” He whispered before he finally let sleep take him.

*

“I found out a few weeks later that she’d actually said it back. And since then, we’ve been living happily ever after.” He grinned proudly. Having a woman as wonderful as Y/N be his was something he was so incredibly proud of, and he always made sure everyone knew just how grateful for her he was. “Uh, so I’d like to propose a toast, to my beautiful bride.” He beamed over at Y/N and could see the happy tears clouding her eyes. It took almost everything in him not to get choked up himself. “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, so much. I can’t wait to start the rest of our lives together.”

The sound of champagne flutes clinking together filled the room, followed by a short applause for the couple before the chatter resumed.

Spencer made his way back to his seat next to his bride, and she greeted him with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. “Nice speech, Mr Reid.”

“Well thank you, Mrs Reid. I do try.” He gave her a cheeky grin before leaning in to kiss her. The team, who were sat at the table with the happy couple ‘aww’d at the sight, smiles on all their faces as they witnessed the pair.

Y/N turned to Garcia, her maid of honour, and struck up conversation. Spencer looked at his wife, taking in every detail. She looked so beautiful in her stunning dress, it was a wonder that Spencer’s heart hadn’t stopped earlier when he saw her at the opposite end of the aisle. His eye caught the gleam of the new golden band that sat above her engagement ring, his heart swelling with happiness and pride at the sight. 

What a lucky man he was.

#kate writes blurbs☘️ #amelia 🌸 #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid

[stuck-in-jelly]

I was thinking about my post about Guillermo realizing he doesn't want to be a vampire for the same reasons as before and decided to say fuck it and upload the small fanfic i wrote by accident

Im not gonna post it on ao3 or anything cause its not that long and I also suck at titles but enjoy!

Nadja's lip twitched into a tight frown, in front of her Guillermo was still fidgeting with his leather gloves, adjusting and readjusting the straps while avoiding looking at her.

She had no idea how despite everything the boy could still get meek, as if she hasn't witnessed him murder dozens of powerful vampires in a single instant or had him boss her around when the Sire escaped.

Nadja knew she was strong and if it really came down to it she'd be able to put up a fight with Guillermo but there was still a lingering fear inside of her that twisted her gut.

That night at the theatre he had seemed like a completely different person, his eyes had been clouded and his voice unwavering, as he stood still holding a bloody stake in front of them announcing his name.

At the time she thought he would kill them all while they were tied up, it was a surprised when he had calmly came over and untied them without a single reaction or word.

But in this moment he's back to shuffling uncomfortably in his seat from across her. When she awoke from her coffin she still had the lingering joy from Laszlo's declaration of love but when she heard Guillermo's voice inside her husband's coffin dread filled her.

Honestly he is lucky she didn't rip his throat out before he could explain what happened.

A part of her wondered if he was even telling the truth about Laszlo locking him in there but her smarter self reasoned that if he wanted to kill her she probably would be dead now.

'Still wouldnt hurt to be cautious' she thought while stroking her doll's head.

"May I ask you something Guillermo?" she questioned carefully, hoping to at least make conversation out of this awkward situation.

"Oh-me? I mean um sure go ahead. If you wanted to know about how we could get around here i can pull up some directions-"

"Stop with your rambling. It's only cute so many times." the doll as usual made a snarky remark, Nadja quickly hushed her as they were still in a semi-public area.

Guillermo's shoulders tensed and he muttered out a quick apology, she felt another annoyed twitch of her lips.

"What I wanted to ask was; why are you so keen on becoming a vampire? Do not get me wrong its great and all but it does not seem like you would gain much from it."

Guillermo made a silly face of disbelief and confusion reeling his head back and scoffing.

"W-why I want to be a Vampire? Why wouldn't I want to be a vampire? I mean you get like super strength, you can fly, you can hypnotize people, you have super speed, and can transform you can do so much! Y-You're just so powerful"

"But why do you want that power? What do you even want to do with it?"

Guillermo glanced around for a moment a small flush came to his face.

"Do you really want to know?"

Nadja gave a small nod and gestured with her hand to contuine. Guillermo sighed and crosses his arms leaning foward, onto the table.

She was already regretting asking.

"Growing up I was never really able to stand up for myself you know? It was hard growing up in a place that I felt I didn't belong in then getting bullied for it too. And it wasn't the teasing kind of bullying it was the tripping me down the bleachers during a football game and throwing popcorn at me kind of bully"

A small pang of guilt hit Nadja as a memory from her childhood surfaced, sometimes the other children would pull at her long hair and stick twigs and mud in it making it harder to clean it during baths.

It frustrated her mother but she never wanted to tell her the truth in fear she'd give her another thing to worry about.

Looking back she should have shoved those brats in some donkey shit.

Guillermo contuined,

"And as messed up as it sounds i use to just daydream about getting revenge, being able to turn around and punch them or even really hurt them. But if I ever tried to even tell them to stop I usually just ended up tied together with Jeremy."

Nadja cringed at the mention of the name but did her best to let Guillermo contuine, the boy sure did know how to talk and talk and not get to the point.

"I felt really hopeless my whole life, like I would never be able to protect myself or the people that I love or that I would never feel confident in my own skin and of who I am. But when I watched movies and shows about Vampires there was just such a air of power and class to them that I couldn't resist so once I found out you guys are real well of course I'd want to join."

At last Guillermo took a breath and sighed wistfully.

"I just want to be strong."

Nadja thought for a moment but before she could speak a voice came from her laps once more.

"But aren't you already?"

Guillermo froze for a moment his smile dropping almost automatically as his attention went to Doll Nadja.

"Excuse me?"

"Arent you already strong? Even without powers you strike enough fear into our dead hearts" the doll chuckled.

Nadja shifted her weight so she could lean the doll into her arms more comfortably.

"My darling has a point Guillermo. You have proven enough times that you're more than capable. Is there really any reason for you to be a vampire now? And do not tell me its about being 'confident', I have never before seen you more sure of yourself."

She would spare him but she does remember gagging with The Guide back when Guillermo first saw Nandor's Council attire, the way gently rub the cape between his fingers and slyly looked at him while whispering.

It was enough to make her want to gag again.

"I- um well I just-" his mouth opened then closed again. There was silence for a moment.

Nadja could hears Guillermo's heart change pace, he knew she was right but there was still conflict in his eyes.

"I'm not sure." He finally finished looking defeated.

Nadja had a feeling she knew. She wasnt dense, she knew Nandor and Guillermo had some sort of thing going on.

It was honestly embarrassing at times, Nandor would go on rambles about Guillermo and lament about him while Guillermo would just hover about Nandor fretting over him.

When Nandor had came in to announce to her and her husband the news that he and Guillermo would be traveling together they couldn't give less of a fuck.

But she will admit there was a happiness Nadja hasnt seen in a few decades from him not to mention that there was a huge significance in him wanting taking Guillermo to his home land specifically to turn him.

Nadja stared at Guillermo a bit longer before finally speaking up.

"Do pull up those directions, I would like to at least speak to the Council before I kill my dear husband"

Guillermo quickly took up the task without another word.

This was something the two idiots would need to sort out between themselves.

#jelly tarts #wwdits #wwdits spoilers #i had no beta readers cause i do not care enough and also im having fun #what we do in the shadows

[angelic-serenade]

Alastor + disaster cook! S/O

headcanons

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

gif, original work and characters do not belong to me

you could not cook to save your life

any attempt at cooking would result in certain failure in the best case scenario and 5.4 magnitude earthquake damage in the worst

sure, you could make edible pasta and if you really put your best efforts into it, acceptable omelette too

but anything past that level of complexity was simply out of your league, a lost cause to put it mildly

don't you even think about making a cake, that shit's dangerous

as they say: as above so below

when you landed in Hell and found yourself joining the Happy Hotel soon after, you came to find out your culinary skills had not magically improved

which is quite ironic since Charlie had made you head chef of the hotel

the string of curses which had left your lips upon hearing the news had been legendary, even for Hell

you adored the demon princess with your whole heart (or whatever was left of it anyway), bUT REALLY CHARLIE? YOU DO NOT GIVE A GUN TO A CHILD AND EXPECT CASUALTIES NOT TO HAPPEN

at this point you were certain she was subconsciously auto-sabotaging

either way, you didn't have the heart to tell her no, so you decided to put your heart and soul into trying to learn how to properly cook, which didn't turn out to be the ideal choice of words since you were in Hell and your soul was probably rotten to the core

at least, nobody could say you hadn't tried your damn best

and hey! some days your cooking hadn't even been completely sickening

you decided to stick to easy, “safe” dishes though, you know, just to be sure

so pasta and eggs were definitely a thing

a constant and repetitive thing to be precise

you were trying your best, okay? nobody in your place with your limited set of skills would have taken the job, but you did and you deserved recognition for that feat alone

or a fucking donkey hat for your skyrocketing dumbness levels

things were not so bad at first

both Charlie and Vaggie were very supportive, each one of them in their own way - even though you had totally seen Charlie trying to swallow pure unadulterated fear that one time you had announced you wanted to try to cook something more elaborate

Angel Dust on the other hand... hadn't been as considerate as to lie to your face about what he thought of your cooking

"fuck me doll, this shit's disgusting"

*insert the I don't have friends they disappoint me vine here*

Vaggie had proceeded to give Angel quite the earful while Charlie tried her best to cheer you up

you went full hermit mode on them for two days after that

you were proud of yourself, handling criticism so well

anyway, the cycle kept repeating, with the only difference that most days Angel would grab something to eat outside of the hotel and join you during meals only to blankly stare at the plates and silvery

Charlie had tried to shield you from the truth, but you weren't that stupid

you respected Angel's choice, really, you did, and you had decided to be the bigger person among the two

that's why you began to put a lil bit of laxative into his portions whenever he decided to grace your efforts and actually eat your "disgusting cooking"

y’know just to spicy things up a little

at least now he had a valid reason to complain

with the whole fiasco on live TV and the sudden and suspicious appearence of the one and only Radio Demon at your doorstep, however, things started going haywire

Alastor's presence was eeirly demanding and unsettlingly charmimg at the same time

so it was only natural for you to gravitate the fuck away from him whenever you could

you always acted politely, greeting him whenever you bumped into him through the corridors of the hotel, but you only went as far as to appear courteous because you didn't want for him to go Hannibal Lecter on you. thanks, no thanks

“and what can you do my feminine fellow?”

“I can suck your dick!”

you had snorted a bit at that which immediately shifted the strawberry pimp's attention to yourself

“and what about you, pretty dame? I take it you're in charge of the kitchens around here?”

dressed in your chef attire, you were going to meekly answer him, but before you could, roaring laughter erupted in the room. it belonged to the one and only slutty spider you found oh so irritating

in the fraction of seconds, Alastor snapped his neck at an unnatural angle to stare at the spider with a strained smile on his face

needless to say, the cursed image would forever haunt your traumatized psyche

“hasn't your mother taught you it is rude to interrupt a conversation which you have no part in? that just won't do!”

static filled the air and you feared you were going to implode if the heavy pressure didn't lift off soon enough, so you decided to take action

“ugh... yes, I'm the head chef! but, well, I... could actually use some practice and proper training?”

you hated how uncertain you sounded, but Angel's comments and your own dissatisfaction with your culinary products made you quite self-conscious about your skills

“don't fret your pretty little head about it, my dear! I, for one, am a culinary connaisseur and wonderful chef, if I do say so myself. I'll be ecstatic to guide you through your training!”

how you'd be able to handle his booming voice during hours and hours of practice was your first and main concern, but you had never been one to refuse the chance to finally prove the people who had criticized you wrong *cough cough* Angel Dust

since that day, Alastor began to personally give you cooking lessons

he was exuberant and pretty sly when it came to veiled jabs about your dreadful cooking, but he really took his time to help you out

which you had been both grateful and suspicious about

“now, we can't have our future patrons starving to death, can we?”

he was strangely patient and an overall good teacher too (emphasis on overall)

he guided you step by step through each dish, simultaneously showing off his own flawless culinary skills

you hated that you daily found yourself boosting his already GIGANTIC ego, but you couldn't help it. you could only dream about reaching that level of artistry in cooking

he always came up with creative recipes to test your limits and cooked for you in order to make you more familiar with different tastes. his mother’s were your favorites, jambalaya being his one true specialty 

he had blindfolded you once and proceeded to present you with various samples of spices, oilments and all kinds of food so that you could acquaint yourself with the smells and flavors of the ingredients and figure out yourself which ones would best suit a certain dish

saying you were hesitant at first was an understatement, because you know? being completely at the mercy of a sadistic serial killer who had terrorized the seven circles of hell? not even being able to see him? not on your bucket list

he had tried to ease your nervousness with the whole “if I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already” thing, but it was getting kind of old pretty fast

“if I had been one to play with fire, I'd have joined a circus”

he found your sense of humor as endearing your sheer presence

(when he rolled up his sleeves to cook, you felt like you could catch fire any minute, you were a slut for strong skinny arms) 

yes, Alastor had always loved to show off his own impeccable skills but he unexpectedly found himself enjoying the moments spent in your company too

he relished in seeing you fail again and again, but he also admired the way you always managed to bring yourself back up to your feet each time

he had yet to fully understand if it was foolishness or stubbornness to guide your steps

either way, you turned out to be his favorite form of entertainment in the hotel!

no matter how many slights would he send your way, you'd always manage to find an appropriate remark that made his permanent smile stretch a little more in sheer amusement

“oh dear, this beef is so undercooked one could still hear the poor beast’s lament”

“the only noise I hear is the obnoxious ramblings of an arrogant boomer”

he wasn't technically a boomer but it was always so satisfying to irk him with terms he had no knowledge of

during your cooking lessons, when the only thing left to do with a dish was wait and pray for the best, you'd come to talk about everything and anything

he'd talk to you about his precious New Orleans as he remembered it and you'd fill him in on recent historical/social developments of your time

he always looked so taken when you shared with him that modern knowledge and it made you feel useful for a change

it was, dare you say it, almost adorable how he'd ask you countless questions about your home town, the catastrophes of the last century and had there been any other war since his death?

the topic switches almost made you dizzy though

once or twice, when the timing allowed, he'd even indulge in a musical show to pass time

on the days your mood soured because of a particularly complicated recipe or bad result, he'd drag you along and dance until you were so distracted by the absurdness of the circumstances that you forgot about your previous sadness

with time, his musical shows became more frequent as he realized you'd always offer him a genuine smile after his flashy performances

it was out of personal indulgence, not because he liked the way his music always seemed to cheer you up

he'd not been vocal about the way he tried to comfort you, but you were grateful nonetheless

the first time you managed to succesfully complete one of his complicated recipes, you had almost cried

“now, now deary, under my watchful eye, it was only a matter of time until you'd finally blossom into a fine cook!”

“Alastor can I... can I hug you?”

and how could he say no to such an adorable expression? he found himself stunned into silence, not being able to tell you yes either, therefore you slowly came closer as if trying not to scare a wild animal away

when Alastor passively stood before you, not moving away, you wrapped your arms around him

he really was such a dorky noodle

he didn't relax into the hug, but he kept still as you relished in the moment and let the pressure you had hoarded for months now loose

Alastor proceeded to show off your dish during dinner and even Angel Dust could do nothing but shut up and dig in

The all powerful Radio Demon was simply so proud of your progress - not that he doubted you'd prevail in the end, thanks to his expertise and guidance

from that moment onward things only got better and even if you didn't necessarily need Alastor's help anymore, neither of you ever mentioned going your separate ways

you were both secretly glad for the silent agreement

friendly banter and dad jokes were a daily occurrence and with your new-found confidence in the field, you'd always bite back showing off new delicious dishes instead than words

you still had trouble every now and then, but Alastor was always there to help you out

not that you'd ever hear the end of it if you actually asked him for help

“what was that, my darling? is the mightiest chef in Hell having trouble in Paradise?”

you had noticed however that he'd started sneaking glances your way more than usual lately and he also started following you around wherever you went in the hotel. he became your shadow both inside and outside of the kitchen

the attention soon became unnerving, even more so when you'd go in the kitchen only find a different flower on the counter each morning

you came to realize that Alastor's advances were rather old fashioned, but you would amuse the dork and yourself for a while before taking charge

gifts became an ordinary occurrence as well as praise and you preferred not to think about what praise could do to you when it came from Alastor

he enjoyed your reactions to his flattering words a little too much, he had to admit

you had had enough of his childish antics one day and you decided to finally put your plan into action

“Al, can you come here for one sec?”

he wasn't particularly fond of the nickname, but you just loved to get under his skin as much as he did when it came to you

“what can I do for you, my darling chef?”

“here, I have a gift for you”

he looked uncharacteristically unsure of what to do but slightly amused as well. in the end curiosity took the best of him and he finally decided to open the box you had handed to him rather unceremoniously

“what is this dear?”

the apron you had chosen was a perfect fit for your long boi

“read it, please”

“kiss the cook? well, if you ask me so nicely, I just might have to”

he then proceeded to peck your cheek and you swore you could have fainted right there and then by the sheer sweetness of the gesture

it hadn't exactly been what you had planned, but you weren't going to complain

your relationship was bound to be full of surprises apparently

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #reader insert #x reader #headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor headcanons #hazbin oc #fandom prompts #hazbin hotel alastor #gender neutral s/o #s/o #fluff #alastor fluff #cute #love #yandere #just a little of you squint #alastor x you #you #charlie #vaggie #Angel dust #alastor imagine #imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor

[the19thduckpotato]

In the Shadow of a Smile (Pt 4)

Part 3

Toshi's thoughts rambled aimlessly again.  Why did she have Izuku stay?  Something to do with me?  He grimaced.  I really wish she wouldn't.  I can take care of myself... Is that a fact, now? Listen.... Further thoughts were cut short as Izuku jogged up.  Toshi's face split into a warm grin.  "There you are!"

Izuku grinned back, falling into step beside Toshi (three short steps to each long one). "Hi!" He fumbled with the opening of the strawberry popcorn, munching on a few kernels. I wonder if he can have any... I know he can have sugar in small amounts, but... he does have his own kind of popcorn. Best not to offer n put him in the position of refusing, he'll sneak a few kernels of mine on his own if he wants some.

Toshi smiled down at his fan student son protege, amused by their comparative steps.  He tried to shorten his own steps and looked about.  "See any store you'd like to visit?" is it strange that I want to give him every good thing that he deserves?  Am I allowed to do that?  Well, i mean, I'm All Might, I can do whatever I like... not that I'd ever abuse that. He watched Izuku.  It'd be blatant favoritism.  But he deserves it.  But that would paint an even bigger target than he already has on him.  Which he definitely does not deserve. Toshi's steps slowed more as he let Izuku get ahead of him. I wish... And he squashed that thought immediately, startled that he even thought it.

Izuku looked around. "Aaahhh..." His eyes popped wide when he saw a certain storefront. "Ooh!! There!!" He bounced and pointed, though he quickly snatched his hand back as he remembered Pointing Was Rude.

Toshi's head snapped up and he squinted.  What in the...?

Izuku turned and grinned up at Toshi excitedly. "Can we go there??"

The blond looked amused verging on jovial laughter.  He almost teased Izuku about was there really a need for more plastic All Mights in the dorm? Just because you feel crummy is no reason to pick on the kid, even jokingly.    He picked this store, now let's learn a little more about what makes Izuku happy. "Of course.  I've been meaning to find myself a Chibi Aizawa eraser topper."  He winked.

Izuku smothered a laugh. "He's underground, they don't make merch of him!" Wait what am I even gonna buy in here, they sell All Might merch, and I'm taking ALL MIGHT in here, that's so cheesy and weird! Can I just look at stuff? Will he think it's a waste of time if I do? Oh no, why did I pick this?? Because you were excited, that's why. Because he asked and you answered, now shut up and Deal With It. Hhhnnngg.... "Do... do you maybe wanna find somewhere else though, because I know it's probably weird and-- and maybe there's somewhere else you'd rather be and I'd 100% like to go with you n honestly I don't even know what I'd want to buy from here, I was just looking...." Izuku grinned and rambled sheepishly as they got closer to the store, both wanting to go in and very much not.

Toshi just casually steered his charge into the store without breaking his slowed stride.  "Weird?  I want to see what's selling.  And who is."  He wrinkled his nose.  "I'm not overly fond of the whole marketing aspect of this job... but I get it."  He picked up a plush grinning All Bean and half smiled.  "Small mementos of the people you look up to.  Reminders that mean different things to different people.  If seeing my face plastered everywhere gave people hope, then so much the better." He didnt like the idea of some of his fans being denied that hope simply because they didnt have the money... but he also knew the heroing business was lucratively expensive. "--oop!"  He pointed at a pile of gray scarves and grinned impishly.  "Yessssssss."

Izuku gave a high-pitched laugh when he saw, then ducked and hoped no one heard him. He grinned back at Toshi and nodded. His gaze flitted around the store, landing on a Crimson Riot hoodie in a rack of clothes. "Oh! Kirishima would love that!" He pointed again.

Toshi picked up one of the scarves--it was much shorter than the real deal--and tossed it about his shoulders.  He affected a regal pose.  "What do you think?" he said, trying a droning Aizawa impression.

Izuku squeaked and hid his grin in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He lifted his head, composure regained with a straight face.

"Blah blah, stop showing off, blah, I never get any sleep, blah, I have 20 cats and they're all named Mittens--"

Izuku's mouth twitched. He repeated the process.  Shaking his head, he mumbled shyly, "Noooooo... we can't make fun of him...."

"I'm sorry," Toshi snorted, trying to look apologetic.  "That was disrespectful." Jerk. Toshi's ears tinged red as he set the scarf back.  "You know what I'm looking forward to?"

Izuku looked up curiously, surprised at how quickly Toshi put the scarf back and how sad he sounded at the end. "--Oh?"

"When shops like these are filled to the brim with green.  Then I can be the big collector." If you even make it that-- "I'll be able to cite facts about my favorite hero, snatch up first editions, maybe get an autograph if I'm lucky."  He smiled hopefully at his kid.

Izuku squeeeeaked, hiding his face in his hands one more time. He quickly flew to Toshi, hugging his arm tightly. Of course you can you can have so much more than that you can have me, right there, oh please let me still be there--

"Heck, I know just the people to talk to about--i mean, if that's the way you'd like to go.  Merchandizing and all."  Toshi shrugged shyly.  "You're already making an impact now, just wait till you're well known.  People will be demanding Deku merch, heh." He looked about the store, all the current heroes familiar and easy to spot.  He blinked and saw different heroes now, the kids from UA.  Not just Izuku, not just Class 1A, but all the students. He blinked again, eyes stinging. I want to see that.

"Whuh-wuh... uuuhhh... I mean." Izuku lifted his head from where it was hidden against Toshi's arm and blinked. "Yeah, I'd rather talk to your people than try to do it on my own, but..." You mean you want HIM to talk to them and you not say anything, like a shy little puppy.... ...Look, that's a long way off though.... He didn't contradict himself. "I mean, maybe let's cross that bridge when we come to it. I don't know if that's even legal yet, I don't even have my full license...." Can unlicensed heroes even have merch deals? I mean I'm not unlicensed but it's only provisional....

Toshi grinned knowingly.  "I already know you're going to need merch.  No rush, of course... but if you keep going at the rate you already are, well."

Izuku muffled a long wobbly squeak against Toshi’s side.

"And to think that lil old me got to be fortunate enough to be the Great Deku's first fan.  Man," Toshi whistled.  "Am I ever lucky!" And for what it was worth, he meant every word.

Izuku could tell, and the fact made his heart feel all weird and tied up all the sheepish brushing-off he wanted to do in long confusing ribbons mixed with thanks. "...But-- you made Deku, though... I'd be nothing without you." Well, not nothing... I'd still be a person. But I wouldn't be a pro without you. I'm still not there, yet, but I hope... one day....

Toshi gazed at him fondly.  "Do you really still believe that?  That passing you--"  He paused, mindful they were in public, and gestured you know.  "--the, ah,  heroic torch would have been the same no matter who it was passed to?" "A Quirkless middle schooler?  What are you thinking?!  Such a boy could never serve as the Symbol of Peace!!" Toshi had coughed thickly but still proudly responded with, "He really has this burning desire to help people." And yet, Mirai had refused to listen, hanging up on his former partner. "...I picked you on purpose.  And each passing week only reinforces my decision.  Please do not doubt that.  Deku exists because you exist, firstly.  I just gave you a helping hand, that's all."  He grinned and brushed one bang away.

Izuku smiled softly-- mostly with his eyes. He rested his forehead against Toshi's arm, trying to think of words that would both satisfy Toshi and yet still be true. "Not... exactly the same, no. But I think... the other children out there... have just as much... potential. As I do."

"They do." Toshi tousled Izuku's hair.  "And would that I could help all of them the same way.  But..."  he held up one finger.  "Power is a tricky thing.  It has an effect on people and not always good.  The most well intentioned person can still do terrible things. "So it isn't just a matter of being suitable.  You earned my trust by not blabbing my secret.  You inspired me to action when I believed I could do no more.  You...well.  You made me want to live again.  Something that not even All Might could do.  So who's the strong one now, eh? "Frankly, kid, I'll be honest--i don't think there's a whole lot of people like you out there.  Don't sell yourself short."

Izuku gazed up at Toshi in wonder. He tried to think of something to say... his mouth twitched into a smile. "But I am short!"

Toshi just stared for a moment. S t a r e d.

Izuku slowly unsmiled himself. Not sad, but confused... "...Not funny?"

Then burst into a roar of laughter, helplessly trying to gasp, "well of course--heehee--next to me--"

The smile came back full force. Izuku burst into laughter too-- "Well YEAH, you're a GIANT!!" He looked up at Toshi with the brightest grin.

Toshi tried to regain his composure, looked at Izuku, used his hand to compare their heights, wheezed more laughter. "I'm onlyheeheehee seven fooahahaha oh no help--"

The laughter was incredibly contagious, Izuku hiccuping out noises that were a cross between a donkey and a chihuahua.

Toshi made a desperate noise at Izuku's noises, his laughter getting more out of control.  Tears squirted out and he weakly grasped at his kid's shoulder.  He was dimly aware others would be staring but the floodgates had opened and he could only ride the wave at this point. This marvelous wonderful wave.

Izuku's face was starting to hurt, but he was happy, SO happy. He tried his best to support Toshi but he, too, was a floppy noodle of hilarity.

Toshi fought to get himself back under control, his laughter finally tapering off into snickers, then slowing down to an occasional giggle.  He took a deep breath and checked on his kid.

One last snort.

Toshi's eyes widened.  Ohno. He clapped one hand over his mouth but his eyes still twinkled.

A tired giggle. Izuku enjoyed the feeling of being in the moment, still leaned against Toshi in a half-hug. He didn't dare look up, though, or he knew he'd start laughing again.

Toshi cleared his throat and casually thumbed the edges of his mouth.  "Well now we have to get something," he grinned.  "What's your pick?"

"Oh!" Izuku's gaze snuck toward the rack of jackets. "...Hmmm...."

Toshi's head followed his gaze.  "Oh look, a denim jacket!  Best Jeanist, you cad."

Izuku giggled, though he didn't quite get the joke. He stepped over to the rack, peeking through them and looking for-- well, maybe I can wear it... but what if Kacchan sees me? But... well, I can wear it in my room n stuff, at least. Or in places like this. As long as I hide it before I get back.... His fingers brushed over sleeves to check the texture and pushed gaps between the jackets to see if any were All Might-themed.

Toshi blinked and smiled, hands in his pockets.  He waved at the few people who recognized him then returned to watching Izuku dig through jackets.

Most of the All Might merch seemed to have been snapped up already, but Izuku's face lit up when he saw-- "Ooh!"

"Hmm??"  Toshi tilted his head and arched his neck.  "What did you find?"

Izuku pulled a thick Silver Age-print hoodie off the rack, running his hand over the inside lined with a soft fluffy material. "This is great! Lookit!" He held it up and grinned, bouncing on his toes excitedly.

Toshi looked pleasantly surprised.  "Well whaddya know!"  He held out his arm for Izuku to drape it over.

Izuku placed it over his arm, still bouncing. "Can I try it on??"

"Heheheheh, sure, go on." He quietly made a mental note to get Izuku's size and dig into his limited edition wear later.

Izuku picked up the jacket again, taking it off the hanger (making sure to put the hanger back on the rack for now) and unzipping jacket, holding the ends of his sleeves and wiggling his arms in. It was a little big, but he could grow into it.

Toshi was definitely feeling the dad feels right about this time.  His kid proudly showing off his jacket. The breath hitched in his throat for a moment. "Looks great on you," he managed with a delighted smile.

Izuku looked up, smiling brightly. He clapped his hands together in happiness, looking down at them with much interest when he felt how the parts of the sleeves covering his hands muffled the impact. After inspecting this sensation for a few seconds, he looked back up, asking with a shy grin, "So uh... can I, uh..." he ducked his head then brought it up again, "...can I have it?"

Toshi's eyes shone with joy.  I finally get to spoil my kid! "I don't see why not!  Anything else you might like?"

"--Oh!" Izuku's eyes and mouth went round. Surely that's too much!! I couldn't even think of anyth-- wait, yes I could! "Well-- actually... I was wondering if we could pick out some stuff for the others?" He thought of the Crimson Riot jacket, knowing Kirishima would love it, and wondered if he could find something of Kamui Woods' or even Snipe's for Shouji. "Not, like-- all twenty or anything... but maybe..." he bit his lip and stared into space, a plan formulating. "Maybe we could hunt for stuff, like, over a while... and save it until we have one for everybody? Would you like that?"

Toshi's entire face lit up at this suggestion.  "That's a fantastic idea!  And anything we can't find on our own, I'm sure I could dig up somewhere else." He shook his head in admiration.  "You're one in a million, kid, you know that?"

Izuku tilted his head and gave a scrunchy, lopsided smile. "What, really?" For coming up with a gift idea? Everyone will be doing it come Christmas. A thought occurred. "Well, technically, I'm one in 7 billion...."

"Even better.  And to think, you're my kid now." oh no wait, what did I just say oh no OH NO He stammered out a quick apology.  "I-I mean...ah...err... what I mean to say, y-young Midoriya--" He could feel his ears burning.

Izuku went limp in shock, and his eyes grew wide as saucers, practically sparkling. His mouth started to wobble.

"Hey wait, nonono, what did we say about the waterworks?!"  He frantically gestured at the boy, acutely aware of being watched now.  "UH--"

Izuku shot forward, wrapping his arms around Toshi and squeezing tight.

Toshi stiffened in shock then relaxed his muscles, ruffling Izuku's hair.  "Hey now..." I care about you I care about you a LOT and I know I'm terrible at speaking my true heart.  I never told Master and lost my chance.  I never told Mirai and lost my chance.  I don’t want to lose my chance with you, I couldn’t bear it. "Kid..."

((Part 5))

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #in the shadow of a smile #itsoas part 4 #izuku #midoriya #deku #co-op rp #mander writes! #ducky writes! #toshinori #all might #dadmight #sunflower dad

[mistakenvilliany]

Episode Two!

This one is still a lot of setup, but really interesting things crop up. Coming back to this, I feel like it shows the truth of the upcoming events more than I gave it credit for the first time. Anyway, onto my long and rambling thoughts. I did say that I was going to make this your problem. You were warned.

• Wei Wuxian: "I have noting but this donkey (which i stole), now this donkey is running my life." A complaint?

• Since another of Wei Wuxian's inventions is shown (the compass), obviously the cultivation world can accept the value of WWX's work, but I find it interesting that there are now people alive that idolize him, (and even more interesting is his reaction to that). Seriously though, how old was this guy 16 yrs ago? Does he actually get away with idolizing WWX?

• I love that Yan's dance is beautiful, but so haunting.

• Damn that fiance cuts really precise firewood

• Cultivators are trapped in nets and we meet my favorite brat! Such a teenager, wasting the Jin family money, I certainly don't think that JC would have spent that much on the kid

• Soul eaters must be fairly easy to deal with, and yet rare? It seems like everyone is heading to this mountain, but the larger sects are treating it as a kid training exercise.

• Jin Ling immediately recognized Mo Xuanyu

• Ah, WWX baby, lay off the insults when pretending to be someone else, you're just going to get in trouble

• Okay, so ouch time - Jiang Cheng's first comment to a resurrected Wei Wuxian is "any last words?" WWX's actual last words were JC's name

• So the paperman is demonic cultivation now?

• God Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji HATE each other, and JC does some first-class projection asking LWJ if he's looking for someone. Like you stopped honey? You can't even make yourself believe that he died for real!

• LWJ is wearing blue!! 😍 I kinda wonder how hope like this didn't kill him

• That is probably the most petulant bow I have ever seen, my favorite brat!

• Wei Wuxian now has time for reflection next to the lovely stream, and don't forget guilt! WWX knew he died, but I do wonder where he is in relation to the events right before dying? How raw is his grief for Jiang Yanli?

• Why exactly is WWX investigating the soul eater anyway? Is he just fallowing Jin Ling around or can he just not resist knowing the answer to a question?

• That wish you made little brat? 'Bout to bite you in the ass, do as your uncle says and run dammit!

• My little Lans are unprepared and under educated!! How could you! I also love this lunch that Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji are having. LWJ glaring death at JC and JC pretending that LWJ doesn't exist. I wonder who figured out that the kids were in trouble first? Did they hear something? Did LWJ just get up from his table and JC follow?

• We know why Wei Wuxian was resurrected, why did someone decide to release Wen Ning close enough to respond to wwx's summons? We know that the statue was ultimately an illusion of the real one, so this was planned. Planned by which side?

• YOU FOUND HIM BABY! 😍😍

• I wonder about Jiang Cheng here, so quick to strike with Zidian (just like his mom) but his motivation? Like I said earlier, he's been looking for WWX too, is he trying to make sure that his brother isn't a vengeful spirit possessing people's bodies? And he can't even think to keep the pain off his face when he's reminded that in the eyes of the world he's the one that killed Wei Wuxian.

• Wei Wuxian - not going to answer that question, better just pass out.

• Now we're officially in the flashback

• I think it's a bit of foreshadowing that JC stops to issue his orders to the others and both Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli him behind

• And we're off to the Cloud Recesses!

#the untamed #the untamed rewatch 2k21 #the untamed is inevitable #wei wuxian #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin ling #my favorite brat! #lan juniors #lan shizui #lan jingyi #Cultivators gonna cultivate

[pocketfulofrogers]

Color Me Yours

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Request:  hey babe, I was wondering if you would write a steve x reader one where she asks him if he would paint in her body just to pass the time, not in a smutty way and with some fluffy conversation between them.

Summary: You hate stakeouts almost as much as Steve does.

“Is this guy ever going to show his face? ” Steve asks for the- well you’re not exactly sure how many times he had asked the same question with varying levels of disdain and annoyance.  It was most likely around lunch that you had lost count and, at this rate, you’ll kill him before dinner.

Recon missions had always been his least favorite. Actually, he quite vocally despised them. The sitting, the waiting, the almost non-existent control over the situation. Small spaces made him antsy- put him on edge.

It’s hard to not feel for him, but then again you had both been locked up for days in a tiny, decrepit apartment with Hill as your only form of outside contact. The fact you had made it this far was something to be marveled.

He glares at the binoculars, and then you. “Let’s just storm the place and go home.”

When you roll your eyes, he pouts. “Steve, honey, there is nothing for us to do. There’s intel we still need, including the confirmation that we’re even in the same country as him, let alone on the same street.”

“Y/N.” He groans. “I let you take down that mercenary in Brazil so you could make it back for girl’s night. I don’t see why-“

“You know what- just-“ Your bag makes a loud thud as you pull it from the couch and drop it onto the table. Steve watches curiously as you begin to rummage around and is only momentarily caught off guard by the small bag you throw at him.

His curiosity turns to confusion as his picks through its contents. “What am I supposed to do with this?” He asks holding up a small jar of orange paint.

You lay his sketch book down on the table. “I don’t know, paint something for me. It’s supposed to be cathartic or whatever.”

He eyes you, notices the tightness in your jaw, your knuckles white from griping the back of the chair too tight. Results from being in close quarters for far too long, no doubt. Perhaps he had overlooked how much it was also affecting you.

“For me or for you?”

“Steve, I love you but you have got to do something before you drive me insane.”

“Fine.” He says, but his grin makes you nervous. “I have one condition.”

**

You hug the pillow beneath your head a little tighter. “What are you painting?” He’s quiet, lost in the task at his hands, so you decide to be patient- listening to the sounds of the busy street outside.

Something wet glides up the center of your spine leaving a cool trail and you shiver.

“Stop squirming.” Steve lightly scolds with a chuckle. “The best canvases are still.”

“It’s cold.” You mumble. “What are you painting?” This time a little louder.

“The day we met.”

He scolds you again when you try to turn and look at him, confusion creasing your brow. “Why would you put that day on my body? Not exactly my best moment.” You can hear the shrug in his laugh. “I was covered in blood, Steve.” He hums an acknowledgment. “I was literally on death’s door.”

“I wouldn’t say literally. You did make it into the lobby of the compound very much alive.”

You laugh again. “Yes, and then you had to carry me when I passed out.”

“Ruined my favorite dress shirt.” He chuckles.

“Exactly! So why that day? Why not that early morning in Venice the next month, or even that night in Ireland?”

“With the castle you broke into?”

“Such a good night.”

His laugh fades out into comfortable silence and you allow him to stay there. The gentle breeze cools the paint on your back and the warmth his body brings against your side is welcomed. Of course, you had rigged your computer to display the feed from the binoculars so Fury couldn’t say you had completely abandoned your post, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t an afterthought in the back of your mind.

“Do you remember what happened after you woke up?” He asks. “After they fished the bullets out and the transfusion.”

You try to think back, but honestly, it’s all fuzzy. There was pain, a very good pain killer, and then, if you’re not mistaken, tacos. “Not really, bits and pieces. I definitely remember the Natasha laying into me.”

“Well,” Steve starts. “This is about to get a whole lot more embarrassing for you.” Your obnoxious groan only motivates him to embellish some truths. “Yes, you did come in looking like you were quickly approaching death’s door, but somehow, you remained extremely defiant up until you were no longer conscious.”

Another stroke between your shoulder blades. This time you manage to remain still.

“I stayed by your side while you were evaluated and treated. Mostly so security would calm down. Your claims to knowing Nat weren’t enough for, well, any of us really.”

“Mostly?” You question. Another line down your side.

“A force of a woman comes bursting through the front doors, having passed all security measures despite losing several pints of blood, and I’m not supposed to be intrigued?”

“Touché. Continue.”

“You were just a few hours into recovery when I stepped away to update Stark. When I came back, you had already pulled your IV and were trying to put your clothes back on- I want to emphasize ‘trying’- muttering something about needing air.”

“I do despise anything that resembles a hospital.”

“Something you mentioned a few times that night. I took you to an upper level, let you sit under the stars. You told me a few stories that didn’t quite make sense about Nat, one involving a donkey, and then threatened to push me over the ledge if I didn’t get you tacos.”

“Well, I do really like tacos.”

He laughs. “I used them to bribe you back into your bed.”

You had been trying to track the movements of his brushes, but had been unable to discern the image on your back.

“So, what part of that story are you recreating? because if it’s me stuffing my face with tacos, Steve, so help me…”

“Maybe another day.” He teases. “It’s the sky from the balcony that night. You watching the stars wrapped in my jacket during one of the few moments you weren’t rambling.” He chuckles before falling into a more serious tone. “The moment I knew you’d become someone very important to me.”

He doesn’t chastise you for the shiver his admission sends through your body.

“I think I do remember something.” You start slowly. “It was early morning. You were adjusting the blinds when a SHIELD agent came in to hand you some folder, told you that you had been requested for something. I can’t remember what you said to me, but I asked you to stay. You did. I had felt so grateful for this unknown stranger showing me so much kindness. That’s when I knew I couldn’t turn down Natasha’s offers to come to SHIELD any longer.”

“I’m why you stayed?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, my love.” You laugh.

Glancing back at the laptop beside you, you notice the briefest flicker of movement on the screen. Facial recognition pops up and, suddenly, the romantic atmosphere is gone.

“We have confirmation.” Steve can’t tell if it’s disappointment he senses in your voice.

“Let’s get a move on, then. Sooner we get him, sooner we can go home.” He’s fully dressed, shield in hand before you’ve even gotten up.

You gawk at him. “I am covered in wet paint.”

His grimace is only slight. “Just put your suit over it, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He tosses your gear to you as you shake you head amused. “Stark is going to kill me.”

“Tell him to add it to my bill.” Steve smirks.  

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #captian america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel #Avengers #paint me like one of your french girls

[dhwty-writes]

Chapter 12 - Intriguing Intruders and Intruding Intrigues

Ah, yes. Welcome to chapter 2. No, you didn't read that wrong. This begins with the second scene I've ever written for this AU. We've come a long way since back then, especially considering that it was only a little under two months ago and this fic has since taken over my life. Also, thanks as always to @persony-pepper​  for betaing! Now enough of me rambling, here's the chapter:

Summary: Jaskier's liege lord comes to Lettenhove and our beloved ex-bard is struggling to keep it together.

Read on AO3

prologue | previous | next

"Where is he?" Jaskier panted, wincing at how his side ached after sprinting up a flight of stairs. He used to be able to hold his own against a witcher on a horse, for Melitele's sake, what had happened to all that stamina?

"Beggin' your pardon, m'lord, I don't know," Marta answered, her eyes widened in panic. "I've been lookin' for 'im for the past hour. He's nowhere to be found."

"Shit," he cursed, startling the surrounding servants. "Fuck!" he cursed again, just because the first one hadn't been enough to actually voice his frustration. He kicked the wall and howled in pain. "Fucking shit! Start over," he ordered. "I want that damned witcher and I want him now! Marta!"

"Yes, m'lord?"

"Is my cousin presentable yet?"

"No, m'lord."

"Then see to it that she is. You have half an hour; the green dress, if you will."

He turned on the heel and raced down the stairs again, cursing quietly. He shouldn't be surprised, really, that Geralt chose today of all days to all but disappear from Lettenhove. 'That's not fair,' he reminded himself, 'you didn't know eith-'

"Fuck!" His foot slipped on the slippery stairs and he would've taken a tumble down the stairs hadn't he collided with a bulk of muscle.

"Careful, my lord," Geralt said, and held him firmly by the shoulders. "Else a twisted ankle will be the least of your worries."

"Geralt!" Jaskier started a futile attempt to wiggle out of his grasp. "Where have you been, you donkey?"

"Training your horse, my lord," he replied, making no move to let go of him. Instead he calmly looked around, taking in the bustling servants. "What's going on?" He pulled him closer to the wall, to let two men hauling a heavyweight chest pass through. "Are you preparing for war?"

'If only.' He scoffed and smacked at Geralt’s hands. "No. Witcher, you need to leave."

"What?" That finally made him soften his grasp, though he did not lift his hands, nor did he move from where they were crammed onto the same step. "Why?"

Jaskier passed a trembling hand through his hair. It was sweaty already, not a good way to start the day when- "There are guests on their way," he explained as calmly as he could. "I don't know which of my imbecile neighbours chose this exact time for a visit, but there's nothing I can do about it now."

"And why do I-" His hand shot out and caught a young lad by the elbow. "Are those my swords?" he growled menacingly. The poor boy looked as if he might piss himself.

"Yes, I- Geralt!" He tried prying the butcher's hand away without too much success. "Let go of him this instant, you're frightening him!" The witcher complied slowly. "Stop glowering, they are acting on my orders. And you, run along now, and hurry up for Melitele's sake!"

The lad took off again and Geralt crossed his arms and glared. "Why?" he asked again. "Where's he going with them?"

"To your new rooms in the North Wing. Ci- Cousin Fiona is also moving, she'll be living with my sisters." He waved his hand dismissively, cutting him off before he could even start to speak. "It wouldn't make sense otherwise. I wouldn't leave her with you when Józia and Janka are there to take care of her. And as my best friend it's only natural for you to be accommodated close to my quarters."

The witcher frowned, still not convinced. "Why do I have to leave then?"

"Because I do not know who is paying me a visit and what intentions they bear. No-one will look twice at dear Cousin Fiona, but you-"

"My lord, there you are," Jakub came to a halt a few steps below them.

"What?" Jaskier snapped.

"Your visitors. They're bearing the banner of Hangfelt."

Fear gripped him like an icy hand, choking the air from his lungs. "Fuck." He'd known this was inevitable, but still- "Go, Jakub, inform the kitchens right away. I will not be accused of lacking hospitality." He manservant bowed curtly and hurried away.Jaskier turned to follow him.

Geralt caught him by the shoulder again. "What's so important about Hangfelt?"

Jaskier winced. "That's my liege. You need to leave, now."

He frowned. "I don't understand-"

Jaskier was beginning to lose his patience. 'Gods above and below, he's been roaming this continent for almost a century. Should be more than enough time to get a basic grasp on petty politics,' he thought. He almost told him so, too. Almost. "That's not important right now," he hissed and tried to push him away, "we're running out of time."

The witcher didn't seem overly impressed by this display of his measly human strength. "Please, my lord, let me try-"

"You don't need to understand!" he snapped, and Geralt visibly recoiled. If nothing else, it did soothe Jaskier's temper a bit. Wiping his sweaty hands on his breeches, he tried to explain: "My liege, Geralt. Lettenhove is his castle. If he suspects something, anything-" He took a shuddering breath, steadying himself. With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he continued: "If he demands that I hand you over, I won't be able to refuse. I won't be able to protect you from him, do you understand?"

Geralt paled visibly. "Fiona-"

"She'll be fine, she's family. Protected by my name and castle peace and all that. No-one can lay a finger on her without my leave. The Count is not a bad man, he won’t hurt us and break the law: we’re protected by King Vizimir’s peace. But you are not. So, witcher," he straightened himself, "you need to go."

He set his jaw and the grip on his shoulder tightened. "My lord."

"Take your swords and a cloak, and for Melitele's love, stay out of sight. Of his guards, and his men, and most importantly himself. I'll come find you in the woods once all of this is over. Alone. Do not come seek me if there is another person with me." He faltered, taking in Geralt's squared shoulders, his kind eyes, his attentive expression. "I-" Suddenly, the urge to exchange the grip on his shoulder for a tight embrace to calm his fluttering heart became very hard to fight.

"My lord?" Geralt's voice startled him from his trance. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he answered curtly and bit down hard on his tongue, to shake those ridiculous thoughts. "I have places to be, witcher, and so do you. Unhand me and leave."

Very slowly and very reluctantly Geralt did as he was told and freed Jaskier from his grasp. He allowed himself to wonder, only for a moment, if Geralt might have felt overcome by the same sort of sentimentality. 

'No,' he told himself decidedly as he sprinted down the stairs of his tower, 'do not think about that. You're Jaskier the Bard, not Jaskier the Fool, Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove. If Geralt had no affection to spare before, he surely won't have any now.' 

In the courtyard, what appeared to be the entirety of his staff was bustling around, all doing their best to make the castle presentable for its rightful owner. 

There weren't a lot of orders for Jaskier to give, they all knew what they were doing. The air was filled with the rich smells of half a hundred different delicacies to flatter Lord Hangfelt's noble palate,  and servants hauled casks of wine and ale alike that would surely not even see the first snow. Wiktor was making space in the stables for at least a dozen horses more, as Jakub was berating some chambermaid for one reason or another. It was a good thing Jaskier had already warned them that his visit was rather imminent after his return from the disastrous parlay. That way they weren't completely unprepared.

Still, he winced at the memory. The meeting hadn't been dangerous or anything, gods forbid, he'd never have brought Ciri if there had been so much as the slightest sliver of the chance. It had even been fun, truth be told, until the Baron had begged a word in private with him. Unpleasant didn't even begin to describe the whole affair.

"Why?" Jaskier had asked cheerfully, "Are you afraid to get your ass handed to you by a little child again?"

Daniel of Dergetten had frowned at that but not dignified it with a response. Not until he had sent Ciri ahead, at least. Then his old childhood friend had leaned close and hissed: "What on earth are you playing at, Julian?"

"Me?" he had laughed. "Nothing, dear friend. I've got no idea what you're talking about."

"What happened to your sharp wits? Fucked them away on the Path? I thought the man who graduated summa cum laude from Oxenfurt would know better than to believe himself the only one capable of thinking around here."

"Speak plainly."

"Sheltering a witcher in Lettenhove, Jaskier?" he had mocked. "Beneath a mantle of protection that is not even yours to give? Aleksander hasn't forgiven you for your last insolence, yet. What was the year again? 1252? This impertinence might just be enough of an insult for him to finally set you aside. Unless-"

"That's quite enough, Dergetten," he had bristled.

The bastard had only smiled. "Is it, Pankratz? I know where my loyalties lie, as does the Count. Do you?" The memory of his smile choked the air from his lungs. 'Foolish,' he told himself, 'you're a foolish man, Julian Alfred Pankratz, to think you can hide a secret such as this from your liege.' Which meant, there was only one thing he could do.

It was true that Count Aleksander Milas had been lenient in the past when it came to Jaskier's particularities that distinguished him from the rest of his peers. He quite liked his songs, had even encouraged him to tutor his son - which Jaskier had firmly declined - and he hadn't given him too much of a hard time for his prolonged absence from Lettenhove. Upon his return his liege had only laughed, not cruelly, when he had knelt at feet to beg his forgiveness for his negligence. And when his father had died, not two days later a servant had summoned him to Hangfelt to swear his fealty — despite Jaskier's protests that his sister Janina would be much better suited for the title.

"Nonsense," Lord Hangfelt had answered, "how could I accept her oath when the rightful heir is right here?"

So, he had sworn, and Hangfelt had promised a visit once the mourning period was over. He was only off by three days, probably spurred on by Daniel of Dergetten's dutiful report, the little traitor. As a consequence, though, Jaskier was still dressed all in black, as were his sisters. Ciri's green dress was an almost offending speck of colour when she stepped out into the courtyard.

"There you are," Jaskier exclaimed and strode over to her to put an arm around her shoulders. "Come, you'll stand at my left side."

She nodded and together they crossed over where Janina and Józefa were already waiting. The four of them surely made a pretty image, he thought, all of them with their pale skin, dark hair and bright eyes. 'Ciri fits right in,' he noticed, satisfied with the illusion he'd conjured. 

Waiting like this, prettily lined up for their lord to inspect like cattle on a market's day, was torture of the cruelest kind. The urge to fidget hadn't been this strong in him since before he'd left. Images of memories long forgotten flooded his mind, the five Pankratz siblings diligently queueing before their father's high chair to receive his judgement after a day of deeds and misdeeds. It had always been him who had misbehaved most, if wandering off in his mind and quietly humming as he worked could be counted as misbehaviour. It had also always been him to step forward to take the blame and consequences for whatever crime his sisters had committed. It hadn't been his fault more often than not. 'My responsibility to bear nonetheless.' 

When he finally found the strength to abandon those hurtful memories he bowed down to Ciri. "You'll have to curtsy," he informed the princess quietly.

"I know," she replied, barely moving her lips. Absentmindedly he wondered how many stiff ceremonies she had already suffered through. 'Surely too many,' he determined. 'Even one is one too much.' "I've seen it many times."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You do know how, don't you?"

She grew rigid under his touch. "Of course!" she repeated. "I've seen it many times!"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. It was Jakub who saved him from the embarrassment of having to explain to a princess how to bend her stiff royal knees. "They're here, my lord," his servant told him quietly.

"Good," he answered. It wasn't good at all. Still, he shouted: "Open the gates!" He heard Jakub repeat his order, and then Marin, too, and then the large winches sprung into motion and opened the heavy oaken gates for the Count and his companions.

As soon as the winches stopped moving, a party of roughly fifteen riders poured into the courtyard. A standard bearer came first, then the Count himself, along with his son and heir, the spitting image of his father. Well, if one ignored the fact that his father was in his forties, overweight, and balding, and not a strapping lad of fourteen years- 'Oh, fuck no, you won't,' he thought and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened.

Behind them followed some brothers or cousins or friends Jaskier couldn't quite remember from his youth, half a dozen guards, and- He nearly cursed out loud when he saw there was a woman riding with them. 'Hangfelt, you bastard.'

To his deepest regret he had to postpone his harangue, though, because Aleksander Milas, the Count of Hangfelt was already dismounting and it was time for their act to begin.

Jaskier stepped forward to greet him with a smile as if he was an old friend and not his garroter. "My liege," he said and bowed with a flourish, "Lettenhove is yours."

"Pankratz!" Hangfelt laughed and displayed his crow's feet for everyone to see. "How good to see you again!" He pulled him into a tight hug that made it difficult to breathe. "How have you been?"

"Fine, my lord," he gritted out and did his best to make a sad face, "as much as the circumstances allow it. Though we are still very heartbroken for the passing of our father."

"And I expect no less, my loyal servant. Which is why I postponed this visit as long as I could. I would not want to disturb your grief."

"You could never, my lord," he answered but the Count had already moved on to his sisters, who were still curtsying deeply. Jaskier nudged Ciri with his elbow to get her to do the same.

"My dear Lady Goldfurt," he said as he beckoned Janina to rise. "I see you still enjoy your brother's hospitality. Is your husband's town so unappealing?"

"Not at all, my lord," her voice and smile were icy, "I am only here to help my brother settle in. He has been away for so long; he hardly knew his way around the castle upon his return."

That made Lord Hangfelt laugh. "Is that true? Have you forgotten all about your home while away on your little adventures?"

"Hardly, my lord," Jaskier forced himself to say. "But it is good to have familiar faces surrounding me."

He nodded. "And what pretty faces those are. Lady Józefa!" He kissed her on both cheeks and Jaskier found himself admiring her self-control. She didn't even flinch from his slobbery mouth. "Has your brother still not found you a husband, Madam?"

"Alas, he has not," she answered jovially, truly an accomplished actress. "Though I trust he will soon correct that mistake. Come spring, perhaps?"

"Sooner still, I hope. I would love a spring wedding. Speaking of weddings, you do remember my sister, Pankratz? The Lady Alina Milas."

The lady in question dismounted her own horse and came over to them. She was Aleksander Milas' step-sister, almost two decades younger than her brother, and the heiress to a rich estate. And his betrothed, whom he had stood up one beautiful autumn evening in 1252 on their wedding day. 'Shit,' he thought and bowed to kiss her hand. This day was growing worse by the minute. He didn't let that show, though. "How could I not? Is it me, Lady Alina, or have you grown thrice as beautiful since our last meeting?"

"Surely I have," she answered coldly. "I was six years old when you last saw me. Though not for lack of opportunities, I remind you."

He felt the heat rise in his cheeks. Hangfelt just laughed again. "Look at you, Pankratz! She hasn't forgiven you, yet. Well, maybe it is not too late. You are still unmarried, I've heard."

"I am. Though let us not talk of such a joyous occasion yet. You see, my sisters'-" He halted for just a moment, shooting them an apologetic glance. "- delicate nature is still rather frail after our father's death. I wouldn't want to disturb their mourning with festivities."

Lord Hangfelt pouted, which looked ridiculous on a man of his age and size. "You speak of mourning, yet still you have invited guests to your house. I think we haven't been introduced yet?"

"My cousin, the Honourable Fiona Nowak. I met her three years ago in Verden and, after I heard the war had left her orphaned, I had her brought to Lettenhove. It has lessened our grief greatly to have her with us."

Ciri rose from her curtsy and let the Count kiss her knuckles. She obviously had learned self-control from Józefa, for her face didn't so much as twitch. "I am terribly sorry for your loss, Madam."

"There is nothing to be sorry for," she answered and Jaskier could feel the whole courtyard hold its breath, "it was not your sword that slew my mother."

Hangfelt blinked for a moment, then burst out laughing. "I see the family resemblance now! A steel-tongued brat for our silver-tongued lordling. Have you given up your verses and songs yet?"

"Almost, your Lordship," he answered with a forced smile, "there is only one person in the world who might move me to a ballad these days."

"A lover?" he teased.

'If only.' "An old friend."

He frowned. "Not the witcher, I hope."

Jaskier forced himself to smile. "Precisely him."

"Speaking of steel and silver and ballads, then, where is he? Has he left so soon again?"

"Not at all, my lord. Though, he left before sunrise this morning. He does not like to spend the days in company, especially not while he is mourning."

"Mourning?" one of the members of Aleksander Milas' party called. "Are you quite sure he can even feel?" Roman, he remembered the brat was called, the Count's youngest brother and just out of his swaddling clothes when Jaskier had left.

'I am, you prick, and I am quite sure with such a comment you'd have angered him enough for him to gut you for me. He can feel just fine.' He pitied that he couldn't say that to his liege's brother. Instead, he opted for: "I believe he thinks himself guilty for the death of Princess Cirilla."

"Ah," the Count said and dropped his voice compassionately. "I've heard the tales. They say she was raped by half a hundred men before the bastards killed her."

His eyes grew wide and his grip on Ciri's shoulder tightened. "My lord, not in front of the child, if you please," he said just as quietly. "She's gone through so much already."

"Of course." He straightened himself. "Speaking of children, have you met my son, yet, Pankratz? Aleksander, Lord Retton."

"I'm afraid I have not." Jaskier bowed again, when the lad stepped forward, looking very out of place with his gangly limbs, too large ears and peach fuzz on his upper lip. 'Gods, and I went to Oxenfurt at that age!' he recalled. Twenty years later, the thought of sending a child to that place filled him with terror. He was glad that the boy could not see the grimace on his face. "At your service, my lord."

"Rise, Lord Lettenhove," he said with a thin voice. 'Gods, he's nervous,' Jaskier thought with amusement. "You, uh, have a beautiful castle."

'What pretty lines he has learned.' He had a hard time not smirking when he answered: "I am pleased to hear that. Are you looking for a new keep for yourself, my lord?"

The lad frowned deeply, obviously not understanding the jape. "Not at all."

"No? Are you then making plans for the future, my lord?"

Helplessly and quite confused Aleksander the Younger looked up at his father, who in turn had a hard time to keep from laughing. "Enough of the teasing, Pankratz," he chided softly. To his son he said: "I told you to guard your tongue with that one. Twisting the words in your mouth is his easiest exercise."

"I would never, your Lordship," Jaskier said quickly, smiling openly now.

"Now, don't add lies to the never-ending list of your sins. We're hungry and we're cold, so keep your mouth shut and lead us to your hall and serve us your best wine. We've deserved it."

Jaskier bowed again. "It would be my pleasure." He turned to his former betrothed. "Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour of accompanying you?"

She scowled and for a moment he feared she might decline, but then she took his offered arm. After a glowering stare of her elder brother she even dignified his formal phrases with equally stilted responses as the Count led the way to the hall as if he owned the place. 'Which he does,' Jaskier reminded himself.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Aleksander the Younger stumbled over his words to ask Ciri to walk with him, who graciously accepted and giggled stupidly. Then, as she took his arm she made a barbed comment that the boy did not understand but that made Janina gasp in thinly-veiled horror. He couldn't quite rid himself of pride welling up at that, despite the curtain lecture that surely waited for him once the Count left.

In the hall Jaskier hurried to pull the lord's chair back for the Count and tried to ignore the jealousy seeing him at the head end of his table, his heir at his right-hand side. 'You never wanted the stupid title anyways,' he told himself, 'so there's no reason for jealousy now.'

He himself sat down at his liege's left, with Lady Alina at his side. Opposite to them was Ciri next to Aleksander who looked just as miserable as Jaskier felt. As soon as the other guests had resolved their brief argument about who got to sit next to Józefa and had all settled into their seats, the food was brought out.

It was a lot, much more than needed to feed such a small party and Jaskier felt a little bad for wasting it. But that was the way things were and he could do nothing about it. So he had his guests’ plates and cups filled and kept full, maybe a bit too much so. Roman Milas was drunk before the hour was up.

After lunch the Count got up. "I'll be going on a hunt," he declared, "and you will come with me."

Jaskier's head snapped around. "Excuse me?" he answered with a frail voice.

"I believe you understood me quite well. We're going hunting, Pankratz."

'What for?' he wanted to ask but didn't dare to. It was late in autumn already, there were no hunts this late. Besides, there were no hounds in Lettenhove and they hadn't brought any with them either. 'We're not hunting for game, then,' he thought grimly and fought the urge to divest himself of his lunch again. "Of course," he answered instead. "My pleasure."

He left Ciri and Alina with his sisters and led the Count and his friends outside again, praying to all the gods he knew. He prayed that Geralt had finally learned how to listen to a fucking order. He had no idea what his liege could want with the witcher — and he had no desire to find out either.

It took all his carefully composed self-restrain not to let the anxiety that roared within him rise to the surface. ‘He’ll be fine,’ he told himself, ‘he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. He has to be.’ Instead he tried to busy himself with what he did best: telling stories. Joyously he japed and jested, and he would’ve jigged to, were his feet not planted firmly in his stirrups. 

Aleksander the Elder called for all the raunchy stories of his time in Oxenfurt and he gladly delivered. And when he and his friends doubled over in their saddles with laughter, Aleksander the Younger appeared at his side, shyly asking whether he could tell him about the Academy. The boy wasn’t stupid, Jaskier soon discovered to his surprise, on the contrary. ‘He’s just young,’ he realised, ‘and it can’t be easy to find your voice with a father as loud as his.’

Still, the worry in his chest did not subside and he kept looking to the sky, where the sun inched towards the horizon far too slowly for his liking. Apparently, the Gods had heard his prayer, for they returned some hours later with empty hands and empty stomachs. Dinner was hastily brought out for the hungry hunters and after that the nobles retreated to the fireplace room in the East Wing.

Hangfelt claimed Jaskier's armchair and Aleksander Geralt's, so Jaskier was left standing awkwardly for a moment before begrudgingly retreating to the divan where Alina sat. Like that he was forced to continue the polite conversation, that quickly turned into the dullest interaction of his entire life, until she mercifully begged her brother's leave to retreat for the night.

“You may go,” the Count conceded. “Aleksander, go with her.”

“Father,” he whined pathetically, “you promised I could stay.”

“I promised you could stay the evening,” he growled. “The evening’s over, which means that women and children are going to bed.”

Jaskier hid his smirk and jerked his head in the direction of his sisters and Ciri. The princess was on her feet already and floated over to their guests. “Lord Retton,” she curtsied quickly, “Lady Alina, might you grant me the honour to show you to your rooms?”

Aleksander the Younger frowned and Jaskier smiled proudly. There was no way the young lord could politely refuse such an offer and he damn well knew it. So, he and Lady Alina went with Ciri and his sisters, and left Jaskier alone with Hangfelt and his men.

That finally gave Jaskier the opportunity to talk to the Count himself. "Lord Hangfelt," he said quietly, "might I talk to you in private?"

He scowled but nodded graciously, and allowed Jaskier to lead him to his study. "A drink, my lord?"

"Gladly," he answered as he sat down in Jaskier's chair by the window.

Jaskier poured two goblets of his best liquor — he'd need the courage — and brought them over to his lord. "Your witcher hasn't returned," he remarked as he accepted the drink; their cups clinked together, "and yet it is already dark. He's not very well trained."

"He's not an animal," Jaskier exclaimed indignantly before he could stop himself, "nor is he a prisoner. He may come and go as he likes."

"Not a very grateful guest, then, if he doesn't even come to greet his host's lord."

He clenched his jaw, desperately trying to think of a witty response. He wasn't fast enough though, for Hangfelt continued: "Hm. So, that cousin of yours... She does look an awful lot like you."

Jaskier tensed. 'Shit, I should have shut that rumour down as soon as it left Janina's lying lips.' "I suppose she does," he answered diplomatically.

That made the Count smile brightly. "Well?"

He hesitated. "Well... what, my lord?"

"Are you going to legitimise her?"

"Oh." Truth be told he hadn't even thought of that. He cursed silently. Well, maybe- "I haven't decided yet."

"Well, decide quickly, then. I like you, Pankratz. And as luck would have it, the betrothed of my dear Aleksander passed away from a fever a few months ago. I haven't decided on another match, yet."

For a few short moments Jaskier was stunned into silence, convinced that his ears had to be betraying him. 'Why would the Count want to bind me to his family tree?' Before he had even the chance to gather a clear thought his mouth blurted out: "What would you get out of it?"

Lord Hangfelt laughed. "Ever the clever man. Why, I would get Lettenhove back for a start.”

“Well, my lord, if you want it back, why not just take it?” He forced himself to smile. “You know just as well as I do that doing so is completely within your rights.”

“What, and just throw you out?” He shook his head. “No, Pankratz, I don’t think I’m keen on aggravating you anytime soon. Or your sisters, that is. I can’t afford a feud with neither Goldfurt nor Kerton. Not to speak of his Majesty’s uncle, who is so very fond of your Jolanta. And, judging by your reputation, you’d just flee to Oxenfurt and write a horrible cycle of smear poems that would ruin my reputation beyond measure, but not before seducing at least three of my siblings and my mother.” There was an amused twinkle in his eye. “Is that an accurate assessment?”

Jaskier quickly hid his smile. “I believe so, my lord.”

“I know four things about you. First, you were endowed by the gods with a vivid imagination and a silver tongue. I know about the games you play and it’s folly not to fear you. You could be more lethal than your witcher still. Secondly, you’re too clever for your own good. You graduated two terms early, summa cum laude, with begrudging recommendation letters from all your professors. While simultaneously managing to climb the steps of the Academy to the rooms above the vice-chancellor’s office. Don’t give me that look, Pankratz, I did my research. Thirdly, you know how to survive. You did that for sixteen years while trailing behind a witcher like a lost puppy and fucking your way through nigh every marital bed of the Continent. That’s rather impressive. And lastly, you are filthy rich. In fact, you’re the richest vassal I got and I know that you know how to become richer still. Is that about right?”

He nodded slowly. “Colour me impressed, my lord,” he answered, “I believe you’re seeing right through me.”

“Good.” A smile spread on his face. “So, Pankratz, I have to retract my earlier words. I do not want Lettenhove back. I want you. For good. And I want you to put that clever little brain of yours to good use. I think we can go far, you and I.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “So, why don’t you tell me why you actually wanted to speak to me and we work out a trade?”

“A trade, huh?” he repeated quietly. That was a much better bartering position than he’d imagined himself to be in. “It is true that there is something I wanted to ask of you, though does it not require Fiona to wed your Aleksander.”

“Why ever not, Pankratz? I took you for an opportunist! Wouldn't you like your grandson to be a Count?"

Jaskier's head was spinning as the whole extent of the offer became apparent. He should, he guessed. As a Viscount, that was. He should be delighted with the opportunity to get Goldfurt within reach. If Ciri truly were his daughter, he probably would have agreed without thinking twice about it. 

But she wasn't. She was Ciri, sweet little Ciri, who had suffered so much already, who slept with stuffed animals and clung to his lips with whatever story he told; brave little Ciri, who'd be just as deadly with a blade as her father once she was grown. He couldn't barter her away. Never. Not even to- "She's only ten years old," he said quietly. "I don't want to take that kind of decision quite yet."

Lord Hangfelt snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. She’s more than old enough for a betrothal. Alina was scarcely ten months old when our fathers brokered the engagement."

'And what grief that betrothal brought,' he thought bitterly. ‘My bride was not even old enough to agree to an engagement when I could already be married.’ Another reason why he had chosen to hide in Oxenfurt for four years, though not before his father had forced his hand to sign the damned thing. "Allow me a bit more time to think about it. Please, my lord. I only just got her. Seven years I didn't even know of her existence. Don't take her from me just now. I can offer you something else in its stead."

"Tell me about your demand and we can see about that payment. How bad is it? Treason? Spying? Did you kill someone? Not a member of the court, I hope, I can't help you there."

"None of that, my lord, you'll be glad to hear. It's…” He wet his lips nervously. "Five generations ago my ancestors were granted this keep for their loyal services to your family. They have kept their peace, collected their taxes, furthered their interest. I have done nothing less. These ancient walls have protected those who bore my name ever since. Refugees were among them, and traitors, too, yet with your blessing no foe dared disturb the peace of this keep."

"Yes, as it is tradition."

Jaskier closed his eyes and swallowed his pride. 'Geralt could do it,' he told himself. 'And if the stoic witcher can, so can I.' Slowly, he went to his knees. "My liege, I am asking your leave to extend the Castle Peace that protects me and mine to Geralt of Rivia, as well."

"So, that's why he's not here." The Count of Hangfelt was silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "I thought as much, but gods above and below, Pankratz, you are beside yourself with fear. He's a witcher, he will be alright! What are you so afraid of?"

'Why don't you tell me?' he thought angrily. 'You're the one who's been searching for him for the better part of the afternoon.' But right now was the time for humility and humiliation, not anger. "Might I be allowed to finish my plea, my lord?" he asked, his eyes firmly lowered onto the carpet.

He snorted and waved his hand dismissively. "Well, then, wordsmith, talk away."

"The Witcher Geralt of Rivia is my dearest friend, whom I have known for almost half of my life. I love him like I would a brother. He arrived on my doorstep tattered and torn from the war that divides our beloved Continent, with bloodhounds on his heels. They turned around as soon as Lettenhove came in sight, but I do not know if they will stop without knocking a second time. It is not only Nilfgaard who calls for his head, but other factions, too, closer to my borders than I would like. I would like to protect him from these threats and any that might follow."

"You're asking for a lot, Pankratz, you know that," Aleksander Milas said quietly.

"I do, my liege."

"And how do you intend to pay for that?”

He swallowed. "I-" His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, but it did not help the dryness of his mouth. 'It's for Geralt,' he reminded himself, 'for Geralt and Ciri.' With a firmer voice than he would have thought possible, he said: "I accept, my lord. I will become a part of your family and help you with your ambitions. If your sister would still take me after the insults I have bestowed upon her."

"Hm," the Count said. “That’s a lot you offer for a bit of protection for your witcher.”

“It is,” he agreed quietly. “You said it yourself, four sixteen years I trailed after him like a lost puppy. He is very dear to me.” After a small pause he added: “Though I certainly wouldn’t be disinclined to another holding or two in exchange for my service.”

"Fine," the Count conceded after a moment of consideration. "Wed Alina if you're so fond of her, then. I'll draw up the contract."

Jaskier clenched his teeth. 'Shit.' That meant that there would be at least half a dozen clauses in it that he wouldn't like. Maybe if he talked to Geralt- No. He wouldn’t do that to them. He bowed his head instead. "I would be honoured," he answered.

The Count held out his hand and Jaskier took it with numb fingers to kiss the signet ring. "Belleteyn is a wonderful date for a wedding."

"I am inclined to agree, my liege."

"Get up now, liegeman, and go fetch your witcher. He'll have nothing to worry about from me tonight. And tomorrow he can swear to you and he will be safe."

"I am grateful for your generosity," he answered honestly.

"I'm certain you are. Now, stop frowning, this is a joyous day."

It was an order, but Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to follow it. 'A joyous occasion?' he asked himself. 'I sold my hand in marriage to shield Ciri from the same fate, and for what? To protect the man, I have loved for half my life with whom I can't lead a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes. Pray tell me, my lord, what is joyous about that?'

#My writing #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #cirilla of cintra #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier fanfiction #geralt/jaskier #of witchers bards and broken hearts #OWBABH

[alleiradayne]

Hello, I Love You

Summary: Sam is cast as Romeo in his college play and Natalie is his stage manager. When he asks her to read lines with him, she’s not quite sure what to make of it. Square Filled: Romeo and Juliet AU Warnings/Tags: Fluff, angst Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy Word Count: 2,824 A/N: For @spnfluffbingo2019, this fills the square Romeo and Juliet AU. Thank you, as always, to @atc74 for beta’ing. Song: Hello, I Love You by The Doors

Love is heavy and light,  bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake.

Lips parted in thought, Sam paused for a breath, then rounded on his friends.

It's everything it’s—

“Okay, hold there.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Don't pause. Just keep rambling, he's despondent and sulking and whining about Rosaline. He's not… musing. He's not happy. Didn’t you read this in high school?”

Sam's glare nearly bored a hole into the director. “I performed it in high school.”

“Then you should know this shit,” Mr. Skinner groaned. “How old are you. Eighteen? You're a freshman?”

Natalie winced with her cast mates, and a groan drew Sam’s glare.

“I'm twenty-one, sir. I'm a grad student,” Sam stated. “I've been in the last four of your—”

“Right, you know what you're doing. Prove it.” Mr. Skinner flopped back into his chair and waved a flippant hand at the stage. When no one moved, he glared over his glasses and shouted, “Well?! Reset! Don't you all have… I don't know, homework to do?”

Everyone on stage but Sam leaped into motion, eager to please Mr. Skinner. After a long moment, Sam turned for stage left and stalked towards Natalie.

“I thought the pause was great,” she stated. “Romeo's flustered. He might take a beat at the end of his rambling to finish his thought.”

At least he smiled. “Thanks,” he muttered. “This show better not turn out like MacBeth did last semester.”

That show. Natalie groaned as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Liz said production was a hot mess. She’ll never let me live it down that I got cast in that one.”

Sam laughed as he watched the scene restart, their Mercucio taking the stage. “Why didn't you audition for this one?”

Heat stung her cheeks at the memory. “I did. For Juliet. I know this play by heart.”

Sam's brow quirked towards his hairline. “You didn't get the part?”

“I'm Miss Amy’s understudy,” she mocked in her irritated sing song voice.

“Oh,” Sam mused with a smile, “Yeah. I heard about her ‘audition’.”

“Whatever,” she drawled with a sigh. “It's fine, I love stage production. It'll be fun to work this one. You’re up.”

Sam turned back to the stage and smiled. “Should I pause again?”

She clamped a hand over her mouth as her barking laugh nearly ruined the scene. After a quick check of the stage, she muttered from behind her fingers, “Do it.”

His too pretty smile turned into a wicked grin as he strolled onto the stage. The scene progressed with his entrance, and Natalie attempted to take notes, but she could hardly concentrate. Though the entire conversation with Sam had lasted only a minute, her heart raced, and her palms sweat. Over the years they had worked together—whether acting, studying, or pontificating—Sam Winchester had always left Natalie wanting more.

She turned her back in preparation for the next entrance, forcing herself to concentrate on her work. Hopefully, the next two hours of rehearsal kept her busy and away from Sam, lest she finally make a fool of herself.

Madam, an hour before the worshipped sun Peered forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drove me to walk abroad, Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from this city side, So early walking did I see your son. Towards him I made, but he was 'ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood. I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me

“He’s great,” Sam whispered.

Natalie rubbed her arms and pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. “He is. Delivery could use a little kick in the pants, but other than projection, William is an excellent Benvolio.”

“Sure, that’s—” he started, but paused as Natalie continued to rub her arms. Something had upset her. Not that Natalie was the most cheerful person. But over their undergrad and now well into their graduate programs together, Sam had learned a great deal about her. Hell, she probably knew him better than any of his friends. But that would be expected of actors constantly working together. Rehearsals and running lines and discussing delivery, intent, emotion. All of it amounted to a very close, near intimate bond.

Except Sam felt much stronger about her than he cared to admit to anyone. Especially Natalie. But as she glared at William out on the stage reciting his soliloquy to close out the rehearsal, her dark stare and hunched shoulders said more than words could.

He leaned into her and asked, “Are you alright?”

Natalie dropped her hands to her sides with a flustered scoff, but she made no move to separate herself from him. “I’m fine,” she demanded.

He leaned closer still and whispered, “Are you sure?”

Any subtler and he might have missed it, but a shiver coursed through her entire body. “I’m… I’m fine, Sam. What are you doing?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” he started as an excuse manifested in the middle of his thought. “I don’t want anyone to overhear.”

A pink hue colored her cheeks as she sucked a breath deep into her lungs. “What is it?”

“Would you want to read lines with me tonight?”

She rounded on him with a wide stare. “Why?”

“Because you know Juliet’s lines,” Sam said with a shrug.

Natalie turned back to the stage. “So does Amy. You two should practice. She’s your leading lady, you need to make it convincing with her.”

“She said she was busy this week studying for calculus,” he sighed.

Natalie quirked a brow at him. “You could just wait until she's available.”

Shit. Maybe he had read her wrong. The sudden worry that all their previous interactions were less than he had imagined sickened him. “Okay, so it’s an excuse to hang out. I miss reading lines with you. Macbeth, Twelfth Night, Midsummer! They were so much fun.”

A small smile curled her lips. “You made quite the Ass.”

“And you were the perfect Titania.”

That hit a little too close to the truth. Natalie stared at him once more, silent but scrutinizing his countenance. Did she know? He had envied Oberon in that production. But as the playwright-turned-donkey, he had shared a scene with Natalie, and though it hit the intended comedic beats, there was something to be said about her laying across his lap as she fed him grain from a burlap bag.

He wondered if she still had her purple fairy fishnet dress.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

The memory vanished in a wisp of smoke as Sam shook his head. “Eh… nothing. Will you come over?”

For a terrible second, Sam thought she would decline. But then she asked, “What time?”

“Seven?”

She nodded. “I’ll be there at seven. You’re on.”

Relief washed over him as he clasped her shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze, then slipped past her for the stage. “Thanks. See you later.”

That time he felt it. Through that innocent touch, a shiver coursed through her body and into his. Maybe, he hoped, just maybe he hadn’t been so wrong about her after all.

“Oh.”

Sam returned from the tiny kitchen with water and found Natalie pouring over his copy of the script. “What?”

She pointed to the page. “This scene?” she asked as she dropped onto the couch. “It's… so overrated.”

Sam gestured with her glass and she took it from him. “I need to practice. Mr. Skinner is gonna chew me a new one again if I don’t nail it in rehearsal later this week.”

Natalie nodded as she grunted in agreement. “The problem isn't really you though. You need to make it sound convincing when you’re saying all this… shit to Amy.”

Sam sat beside her as he set his glass of water on the table. “Shit?”

A derisive snort burst from her nose as she rolled her eyes. “It’s terrible tripe. Saccharin sweet. They’re teenagers and have no idea what love is, and yet, they die for each other over a minute of infatuation.”

Great. Sam could have kicked himself then. How had he not known? Given her audition for Juliet, he had assumed she loved the play. He backpedaled as hard and quick as he could think. “I think maybe that was Shakespeare's point. Given all of his other comedies, tragedies, and romances, he was constantly commenting on social and political constructs. Maybe the mere concept of destined soulmates pissed him off enough to write about two star-crossed lovers dying for each other.”

It wasn't as if they had never sat so close together. Hell, Sam had, so many times before that night, rest his head in her lap as she played with his hair while they rehearsed Midsummer. And he remembered losing himself in her icy blue stare so many times. But of late he had forgotten that sensation, that chill as it raced down his spine and numbed his fingers and toes when her gaze met his. She stared openly, unabashed as she searched his own eyes, but for what he did not know. Each little twitch of her stare flitted from one spot to the next—his hair, his nose, his throat—then came to rest on his lips. His own eyes slipped to hers, full and parted in a subtle, silent “oh” as though she were shocked to see him so close, closer than ever before even though it wasn't true.

“You have very… colorful eyes.”

“... Heterochromia.”

The moment shattered like so many tiny pieces of glass. “What?”

“I… uh. My eyes. Heterochromia. That’s why there’s some green and brown hazel mixed in the center of the blue and grey,” Sam explained through a sigh.

“They’re captivating,” Natalie started. “I've always wondered why they looked that way.”

That had caught him flat-footed. “Really?”

Natalie shrunk away as though suddenly self-aware. “Yeah… um, never mind. Forget I said anything, I was just rambling. Should we get to this?” she asked as she pointed to the script.

Resigned, Sam nodded.

“Alright. Take it away, Romeo,” she directed as she swung open an imaginary set of balcony windows.

Sam slipped from his spot on the couch in a fit of inspiration and sat on the floor so that he might look up to Natalie as though she truly stood on a balcony above him.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

A part of him agreed with Natalie. Shakespear’s Romeo wore love on his sleeves and acted on impulse, like a lovestruck, moody teen. Whereas Juliet was levelheaded and, while equally infatuated with Romeo after such a brief meeting, wanted to leave things where they were, given issues between their families.

A thousand times the worse to want thy light Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

And yet, as Sam continued through the clichés and romantic tropes, the less he felt as though he were reciting the lines and the more he felt as though he spoke from the heart. The longer he stared into Natalie's brilliant blue gaze, the deeper he fell. Sure, Romeo might be immature, but he had some incredible pickup lines.

It is my soul that calls upon my name. How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!

Sam couldn't help but wonder how Natalie felt. He held her hands in his and waited, her line a beat behind his but she remained silent. There was no way she had forgotten her line. He had seen her reciting them in the wings as he rehearsed with Amy. He wondered if she thought the pause poignant, to create some melodramatic tension befitting only Shakespeare. She seemed to be a fan of his subtle rhythm of delivery, rising and falling with his natural breath. Her own chest spilled over her arms as she drew air into her lungs and, at long last, said her line.

“I love you.”

The entire world stopped as though grasped in the hands of a mighty titan. For a second, Sam thought he had misheard her, but the sound of her voice looped like a broken record in his mind until the weight of it settled in the pit of his stomach. And for all Sam's talents, he knew without a doubt he had many faults, oblivious topping the list.

“That's not your line.”

A lilt of laughter he had never heard from her before bubbled up from where Sam couldn’t be sure. When she clamped her hand over her mouth, her cheeks brightened to a rosy red, and her eyes widened. Muffled words muted by her hand sounded like nothing more than gibberish, and when she scrambled from the couch and for her bag, Sam stood in a dumbfounded daze, unable to keep up.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m just gonna… I’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsal,” Natalie stated as she rushed to the door, her coat half-donned and bag swinging from one arm.

The inexorable swing of the door slowed as though time stretched to give him a final chance. If he didn't take it, if he let her leave without telling her he felt the same way she did, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Long legs vaulted the back of the couch with ease as Sam lunged for the door. He caught it without an inch to spare, and flung it wide to find Natalie waiting at the elevator at the end of the hall. He said nothing and instead, ran down the hall and slid to a halt on the polished wood floor. He nearly ran into Natalie, stopping just at her side, and when her eyes met his, elevator arrived.

Her free hand slipped into his as he reached for her and said, “If my touch offends you, I could kiss you instead.”

Her stare narrowed as she turned into him. “Holding my hand is very polite of you,” she started as she raised his hand. “Palm to palm, they touch like a kiss.”

“But lips kiss better,” Sam retorted.

Her coy smirk met his grin as she grasped his free hand and said, “Lips that should pray.”

One smooth step closed the space between them, and Sam wrapped an arm around her, his hand splayed at the small of her back. “My lips pray that you’ll kiss me. Please don't ruin my faith.”

“Prayers are answered by those that remain still,” she stated. “How can I answer your prayer if I can move?”

Sam barked a laugh at her twisted interpretation. He towered over her as she leaned into him, and as their lips neared, he said, “Then hold still so that my prayer might be answered.”

Romeo might have had a few smooth lines, but they all paled in comparison to the feeling of Natalie's lips on his. No, she wasn't the sun, or a rose, or any of that bullshit. She was power and grace and faith all at once, unfiltered. As his lips met hers, Sam melted under the sheer force that was her presence, wanting nothing more than to stay there forever. But when they parted—eventually—Sam finished his thought.

“My sin has been taken from me by your lips.”

“Does that mean my lips bear your sin as well?” Natalie asked through a devious smile.

Sam shook his head as he said, “You enable my crime with such sweetness. Give me back my—”

Her lips landed on his before he finished speaking, a hard press that spun his head. Too long he lingered there in her embrace, so close he could hardly tell where he ended and she began. Her hand slipped from his to grasp his shirt, and he wrapped his arm around her to hold her close, closer than he thought possible. Any closer and he would cease to exist.

“Excuse me.”

In another world so far away, Sam heard the distant complaint of a woman. Rather than break their kiss, he picked Natalie up, his arms encircling her tiny body with ease, and carried her back to his room. When the door latched, Natalie parted from him, lips swollen and chest heaving for breath.

“You’ve been practicing.”

He laughed at that as he licked his lips clean. “I’m just glad there aren’t any nurses or mothers around to interrupt us at this point.”

“Me, too,” she agreed. “Would you kiss me again and show me what you’ve learned?”

Another laugh shared between them filled the room as Sam neared her lips once more.

“A thousand times, and a thousand times again.”

Feedback is appreciated! Feel free to reblog, too!

If you want in on any of my tags (Sam/Jared, Dean/Jensen), send me a DM or an ask!

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN FLUFF BINGO MASTERLIST

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@karouwinchester

#alleiradayne writes #spn fanfic #spnfluffbingo #spnfluffbingo2019 #sam winchester fanfic

[readyplayerhobi]

Apricate

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, smut

; Word Count: 13.2k

; Warnings: Oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, dubious use of a champagne bottle

; Synopsis: A summer vacation in the Mediterranean is the idea of heaven for many people. Sun, sand and azure sea as far as the eye can see. But what happens when a chance encounter results in you basking in a very different kind of sun?

; A/N: Major thanks to @yminie for the beautiful moodboard ;-; but seriously...how could I NOT write a summer vacation fic for Hoseok with that pic??

-

For hundreds upon hundreds of years, the Mediterranean has been at the centre of trade and life for those living around its warm, azure waters. From the Egyptians who had worshipped their gods of the deserts to the Greeks who had prayed for their sea god to give them calm seas for travel.

Underneath the cerulean waves lay the remnants of cultures that had risen and died, from the Romans to the Phoenicians and more. The rise of empires, the fall of civilisations, the wars that humanity had wreaked upon itself over millennia; the Mediterranean had borne witness to many things.

And now, it was bearing witness to your excited ramblings to your best friend through a smartphone. The tiny device was pointed at your face, giving you a perfect view of her exasperated expression while you happily spun around, giving her a front seat view of the spectacular and awe-inspiring sight of the Greek island of Santorini.

You’d spent the past hour slowly climbing the, frankly ridiculous, number of stairs that had been carved into the island a long time ago. There had been the option to take a donkey, but you’d felt that you couldn’t possibly use a donkey without feeling guilty.

It was 34 degrees right now and looking at the poor things made you want to wrap your arms around them and lead them into some shade. So instead, you’d clambered up the steps by yourself and had spent five minutes practically lying on the floor while feeling like you were dying.

You were in shape, but there’s being in shape and then there’s climbing that amount of tall stairs in shape. Why were they so big?! Wasn’t it bad enough that most of the tiny streets were so high given the rugged landscape that had been caused by a volcanic eruption millennia ago?

Any other complaints you’d thought about having though, had vanished completely when you’d finally stood up and walked along the top for a little. The view was truly stunning, and took your breath away. How did people live in places like this?!

White-washed buildings gleamed along the side of the island where they clung onto the land like stone spiders, desperately defying gravity while the occasional blue dome topped a building here and there. Jagged rocks led down to the ocean, which was gently lapping along the edge to produce white froth that topped the crystal clear waters, leading out to a deep blue that sparkled in the sunlight.

For a moment, you’d simply rested your elbows against the white wall that protected people from falling down the edge and watched the world drift by. It was almost easy to imagine yourself thousands of years ago, to try and imagine how the Greeks had lived during the time of influential people such as Socrates, Aristotle and more.

Five minutes of admiring the scenery had left you wanting to share what you were seeing, and so you had produced your phone from the small bag that was looped over your shoulder. A few Instagram photos later, because you might be fantasising about ancient cultures but you did live in the 21st century, and you had been calling your best friend, mindful of the fact you were probably going to be hit with a huge phone bill later.

But she had to experience this!

Lisa had answered your call grumpily, informing you that it was too early in the morning to be on the phone to you. Despite the fact that you were showing her one of the most beautiful sights you had ever been witness to.

If anything, she should be used to it by now. You’d saved up all your vacation leave and had taken it all at once, blowing through your meagre savings to take you on a trip through the countries that surrounded the Mediterranean.

A degree that had majored in Ancient History and minored in the Classical Studies meant that you had a vested interest in the ancient cultures that had proliferated along these venerable shores. It was just good fortune that the museum you worked in had been enthusiastic about you taking a whole month off to explore the very countries where their most popular artifacts came from.

In fact, your manager had made you promise to make note of any interesting facts that you may learn from the native tour guides. An interactive exhibition was being planned for children, with your photographs being used alongside 3D images of the artifacts. Honestly, they should be paying you for this.

Your month long trip had taken you from the awe-inspiring pyramids of Egypt, to the shores of splendid Turkey, to the island of Malta, to the historied cities of Italy before finally landing upon Greece. A few days had been spent in Athens before you decided to head out to Crete, the largest island in Greece and discover the Minoan palace and other treasures there.

A day trip to Santorini is how you’d found yourself currently gushing about the wonderful landscape around you, though you were glad that you had chosen Crete as your base for the final part of the trip. You weren’t sure you could handle all the hills all the time!

“You’re coming home in a few days right?” Lisa queried once you finally brought the screen back to your face. Resting against the wall once more, you held the phone out in front of your face and nodded, letting your head tip back to take in the blinding sun.

“Yep, four more days and then it’s back home. I am going to have the worst case of holiday blues, I swear.” You groan deeply, though Lisa laughs through the tinny speaker at your misery. Her eyes are puffy from sleep and you smile in fondness, noting how young she looks when she’s just woken up.

“Oh, my heart bleeds for you as you stand there in Greece. Make sure to bring back some good stuff from there okay?” She says and you laugh, spinning around so that you face the stairs once more and sigh deeply.

Heading over, your sandals slapping against the worn stones in the quietness of the day, you acknowledge her request with a salute. Figuring that you may as well get some use out of the ridiculously expensive video call you’re making, you go to ask her how life is with Taehyung now that they’ve moved together.

Only she makes an intrigued gasp and you watch as suddenly your screen is filled with her nose and upper lip. “What are you doing you freak? I don’t want to see your nose hairs!” You squeal, moving the phone even further away while looking in disgust.

“Who...is that hottie behind you? In the yellow shirt?” She asks, completely disregarding your comments. You pause and slowly turn around, eyes scanning over the small group of tourists who had boarded the boat with you in Crete. Most of them were from the same tour group as you, all being picked up at the same point in the town you were staying in.

Subtly looking over everyone, you note that the majority of yellow wearers are women and frown, wondering if perhaps she didn’t see it properly. Only then suddenly, a pale yellow the colour of a spring chick comes into your vision and your own brows raise.

The shirt is a button up, looking light and comfortable with the top few buttons undone to reveal an expanse of smooth, golden skin. His sleeves have been rolled up and reveal equally toned arms that practically glow in the sunlight, while the sun makes his black hair shine beautifully.

Comfortable, white trousers adorn his lower half and you wonder half heartedly if they’re linen - truly the perfect fabric for heat like this. He looks bright and colourful, every inch the tourist yet with a sense of exquisiteness that marks him as different from your regular tourists.

He turns slightly to look out at the sea and you swallow. High cheekbones sit beneath softly rounded cheeks, while his jawline is as sharp as the rocks that meet the sea down below. An aquiline nose slopes down before turning up ever so slightly at the end, making the perfect resting place for the Chanel sunglasses that cover his eyes.

For a moment, he looks utterly unattainable until a young girl says something in front of him to cause him to smile. And that is when you truly lose your breath, for it’s like the sun itself has come to life in front of you.

It’s the only explanation for the way his face practically lights up from within as he smiles, the movement taking up his face and revealing perfectly straight teeth while his lips become an endearing heart.

How have you missed this man on your walks?

He looks utterly at ease with himself, his hands pushed into his pockets and an expensive looking watch resting on his left wrist lazily. Not a damp spot can be seen on his summer-island clothing, and it makes you flush with embarrassment as you realise that your pink vest top is currently red in certain areas from the sweat of the walk up.

And that’s to not even mention the amount of boob sweat you have going on, or thigh sweat. Or, perhaps even more humiliatingly, butt sweat. In fact, you’re glad that you’re wearing pale denim shorts today, otherwise you’d have a rather lovely sweat patch along your ass crack if you had chosen linen like him.

“I don’t know...I think he’s part of my tour group.” You murmur, vaguely aware that Lisa is still on the line with you. It’s only when she lets out a laugh of amusement that you refocus back on her, blinking a few times to regain focus until she finally comes back into your vision.

“Wow. You look taken by him. He looks pretty hot. Maybe you should see about a holiday fling?” She says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively until your cheeks flush with blood once more. Spinning around, you turn away from him and begin to make your way back down the stairs.

“Don’t be stupid! Did you not see him? He looks way out of my league! I mean, the man isn’t even sweating. He’s wearing Chanel sunglasses so god knows how much the rest of his outfit costs. That is a man, out of my league.” You hiss at her, wobbling slightly as you take a wrong step and almost go falling down the whole lot of stairs.

That would be painful. And humiliating.

She simply huffs and watches you with a smile, one brow quirked while her chin rests in her hand. You know that look. You’ve spent years watching that look as she ropes you into some dumb thing. It’s the look she wore before she got Taehyung, and he can be a grade A idiot sometimes.

Okay, so he’s sweet. But still!

“You could at least try! I mean...if he’s in your group then you’ve got the boat ride back...and then the coach ride back. You could try. You don’t need to be in his income bracket to enjoy good dick.” Lisa says crudely and you groan loudly, rolling your eyes as you wave your phone around and hope she gets motion sickness or something.

“Shut up.” You hiss at her, glancing around paranoid and relieved that there’s no other tourists around. Greece’s islands were full of British and German tourists you’d noted, and the German’s appeared to have exceptional English skills. It really wasn’t in your daily itinerary to accidentally become someone’s holiday story as ‘that thirsty American girl who was talking about holiday dick on the phone’.

The heat was excruciating with the minimal wind that was coming off the sea, and even though you were going down the stairs and not up, you could still feel the sweat slowly dripping down your back and between your breasts. Did guys get this issue?

“I am not going to ask the outrageously handsome man if he wants to sleep with me tonight. He could have anything! He might not even speak English! Have you even thought of that?” At the other end of the phone, all the way back in New York, you watch as Lisa rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn, tapping her hand over her mouth.

“You don’t need to speak English to get dick. I’m pretty sure he’ll know the word for sex. If not, you could always try…” She trails off before resting the phone on something and simulating sex, pushing a finger through another circled finger. Practically screaming, you have a small tantrum on the steps before pointing at her.

“You’re terrible, you know that? Why am I friends with you? You’re like...half a world away and you’re still pressuring me into sex!” You groan, rubbing the back of your hand over your forehead to get rid of the perspiration there. She laughs loudly, the sound tinkling through the tiny speakers and you can’t help but smile at the sound. Okay, so she’s an ass but you still love her.

“I’m trying to get you laid. You like sex. You like hot men. You’re loving Greece. Why not have sex with a hot man in Greece? A three-in-one!” Hissing through clenched teeth, you stop and take a deep breath, closing your eyes while you take in the hot air. Honestly, it’s not so fortifying when the air feels hotter than your lungs.

“Goodbye Lisa. I will text you later, send you pics. I’ll make sure to buy you some yummy Greek treats and you’re also getting one of those wooden dick keyrings they sell all over the place.” You give her a saccharine smile, waving fingers as she sputters about wooden dicks.

Ending the call, you let out the breath slowly and feel your shoulders practically fall to the floor. She’s right. You do like sex, and you haven’t had any for what? Six months now? Any longer and your damn hymen would grow back and you’d gain second virginity.

But a holiday romance was too...cliché. Imagine going home with that story! And what if you got pregnant?! It’s a Mills and Boon story come to life. Shaking your head, you continue on down the stairs and resolve to take in the view once more to centre yourself.

He was hot, sure. But you’re probably never going to see him again once you both get off the tour bus. And that’s more than enough reason to keep any sexual thoughts to yourself.

Yes, you won’t be getting his dick tonight. But there’s nothing against imagining his dick when you’re in the quiet, darkness of your room later.

-

The trip back to your hotel had been awkward for you, given that you were now almost supernaturally aware of Hot Man’s presence. In fact, it was almost to the point that you wondered how the hell you’d never noticed him before.

An extra wary eye had allowed you to spot his pastel yellow shirt situated towards the back of the boat, stood watching the wake that the vessel created as it cut through the deep blue waters. Immediately, you’d taken a seat towards the bow of the boat instead.

You know, just in case he suddenly developed telepathy and caught wind of the inappropriate thoughts that were running through your mind. Like whether it was possible to have sex on a boat this crowded in the middle of the Aegean Sea.

Instead, you’d rested an arm against the side and watched quietly as the great expanse of ocean passed by under your watchful gaze. It still blew your mind to imagine that people millennia ago would undertake the same journey as you, only their ships were made of wood and relied on the wind or pure manpower.

As you’d inhaled deeply and took in the pleasing scent of salt soaked ocean, you hadn’t been able to help but smile slightly at the cooling wind that had whipped through your clothes as the ferry sped back towards Crete. How wonderful it would be, to simply live on the ocean like this. Not a care in the world.

Implausible obviously, but still. Your meandering thoughts could have perhaps be blamed on the ever beating sun that shone mercilessly in the sky. There was no wonder that the Greek islands often looked almost barren of green plant life, and yet you knew there to be many forms of life that had not only endured but evolved.

You’d spent the rest of the trip back having silly thoughts like that, letting yourself fancifully imagine what it would have been like to live during the age of Greek gods and so forth. Honestly, it’s a wonder you’d managed to make it through your holiday without getting stuck somewhere because of your flyaway thoughts.

The ride back to your town had left you with your heart in your throat as Hot Man had casually gotten onto the coach as well. You’d chosen a seat close to the front, but the seat next to you was free and you’d barely even taken a breath until he’d walked past, heading further to the back.

You’d gotten off the coach before him however, so you weren’t entirely sure where he was staying in the small Cretan town you’d pick as your final destination. The sigh you’d let out was ambiguous, and you were not entirely sure if it’s because of relief or sadness.

The next three days were spent exploring the town you were staying in, along with a few of the nearby towns and enjoying the delicious food and warm friendliness of the Greeks who inhabited this small piece of heaven.

There had been more than a few hours spent lazing on the beaches that dotted the mountainous island, admiring the sapphire waves as they hugged the shore lovingly. Numerous souvenirs had been bought for friends and family, from cute pewter keyrings with tiny blue glass beads featuring the painted eye that was so common to boxes of loukoumi for those who have a sweet tooth.

You’d spent plenty of time in the various cafes and bars dotted along the seafront and watched with a mixed sense of awe and discomfort as coach drivers swung their huge beasts of burden down tiny streets that had been designed for carts, not buses. The inches that separated a wall from the coach often left you cringing, and yet they didn’t seem to care at all.

Greeks carried on with their lives as you watched, going to work or eating out at a few of the restaurants because while you were enjoying the island as a holiday, for them it was simply their home. Lyrical words were spoken at a fast pace between friends and family, almost musical when they really got going, and yet always filled with a passion that seemed to show on their faces as well.

Your own Greek was not very good, not nearly as good as your Italian, with just a handful of important words mastered such as please and thank you. Your knowledge of the Greek alphabet was almost redundant as well, with signs often being bilingual in English, and many time multilingual with German and Russian too.

Yet you still enjoyed the pleased smiles you got when you stuttered out a ‘kalispera’ in the evening or ‘kalimera’ in the morning. The words always felt so pretty to say though, and even if you got it wrong they still gave encouraging smiles that meant you felt okay trying again later.

Something that you had most definitely noticed, with a growing sense of awareness that left you feeling you’d gained some bizarre sixth sense, was Hot Man venturing along the same streets that you did. You never actively noticed him - it was more like you’d catch a glimpse of a smartly dressed man out of the corner of your eye and quickly glance over.

He seemed to have a penchant for light coloured clothing that looked comfortable and not too hot. Two days ago, you’d seen him wearing tan coloured linen shorts that came to his knees and a pale green t-shirt, whereas yesterday he’d been wearing a tan and baby pink version of his Santorini outfit.

Not that you’d been overly paying attention to his wardrobe or anything.

It had become very obvious that he was in fact, an expensive man as his clothing was subtle yet practically reeked of money. Not to mention his every changing roster of designer sunglasses that sat primly on the bridge of his nose.

Despite this, he was beyond friendly and seemed to get on with whoever he was talking to, despite any language barriers. His deep voice, so pleasing to listen to, had travelled to you a few times along the gentle sea breeze and you’d been satisfied to discover that he spoke English too.

Not that you’d been hoping he did or anything.

Still, you’d enjoyed subtly watching him as he walked along the old, charming streets of the Cretan town. It was nice to see someone enjoying the atmosphere of the place as much as you were, and not simply looking for the next alcoholic drink.

Unfortunately however, tomorrow was your last day and you’d no longer get to sip fresh apple juice while gazing out over the oil smooth sea, or wake up on fresh sheets to blissfully warm sun peeking its way through the glass door. Nor would you get to peek upon your Hot Man and fantasise.

Each country you’d visited had seen you carefully counting your money, only splurging on the last day at a fancy restaurant in each location. Today was finally the turn of Greece, and you’d decided on a small place that overlooked the ocean, figuring that you’d enjoy the delicious food while observing the awe inspiring sight of the sun slowly dipping below the waves.

Which is where you found yourself now, sat on a wicker chair with a basket of small, delicious rolls of bread in front of you and a bowl of salty olives to snack on. You’d decided to finish your trip with a meal consisting of your favourite food that you’d discovered in Crete.

A plate of dakos was sat on the table. The crispbread, olive oil, creamy cheese and ripe tomatoes was an explosion of taste in your mouth and the perfect starter to put you on until your lamb souvlaki arrived later.

You were preoccupied with daydreaming as you slowly ate, watching the beautiful scenery in front of you, the sky slowly painting itself vivid yellows, soft pinks and warm oranges as the sun slowly began to make its way down to the sea.

As such, you didn’t notice the presence that appeared at your side, nor the way he watched for a few moments, amused. A low cough, clearing his throat quietly enough to not be obnoxious to other diners but enough to catch your attention, caused you to look away from the sea. Eyes widening at the sight in front of you, you sat up straighter and wiped at your mouth, hoping there was no embarrassing food on your mouth.

Or down the white sundress you’d opted to wear for your final night. He let out a soft laugh, the sound causing that heart stopping smile to break across his face and make tiny butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. Erm...I was just wondering if...maybe you’d be okay if I ate with you? I was over there but...the view’s better here.” White teeth flash at you, his strange mix of hesitation and confidence causing you to frown slightly. “I mean, if you don’t want to then it’s fine. It’s just...it’s my last night here and...well I wouldn’t mind being in the company of a pretty woman and a beautiful sunset.”

His words almost cause you to choke and you splutter, one hand covering your mouth while your other gestures towards the chair opposite you. He sits down slowly, looking like a dream come to life. Today, he’s gone for all white. A white button up, with the buttons just low enough to give an alluring tease of defined collarbones beneath golden skin and white trousers.

Black hair moves across his forehead gently in the subtle breeze and you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath when he finally removes those sunglasses that have remained attached to his head. Beneath them, are crescent shaped brown eyes, warm and filled with kindness and amusement.

Dear god, he was stunning. Staring at him in the restaurant, his profile standing out from the outstanding picture of natural beauty surrounding him, you realise how the people of this country thousands of years ago had believed in a god who brought the sun to life every day.

Because you could quite easily believe that Apollo himself had taken human flesh and sat opposite you.

“Thanks. I was worried I might seem a little weird. I’m Hoseok.” He holds out an elegant, long fingered hand to you. “Jung Hoseok.”

Stuttering, you shake his hand shyly and let him know your name, eyes falling to the table as you take a bite of your food to occupy your mouth. Lisa had been joking when she’d suggested a holiday fling with him, and you’d been serious when you thought that nothing would ever happen.

Yet here he was, sat opposite you and looked more delicious than the food you were eating currently. Hoseok calls for the waiter and asks for a bottle of white wine to be delivered to the table, smiling pleasantly and thanking him once the expensive bottle arrives.

He pours himself a glass and looks at you, brow raised while he shakes the bottle slightly. You nod slowly, watching as the clear liquid fizzes inside the glass and reach out, taking a long gulp of the crisp, dry drink.

“How long are you in Crete for?” He asks idly, giving another smile to the young girl who delivers his starter and diving into it. Dragging your fork through the food on your plate, you feel your cheeks heat with awkwardness.

“Just tonight. I leave tomorrow to go home, like you.” At that, the delicate smile that has so thoroughly charmed you makes another reappearance. In fact, if you were reading his face right, he looked positively delighted at this news.

“Oh really? What a weird coincidence. Let’s consider this a fruitful night hmm?” He says, raising his glass to you in a toast that has you letting a tiny smile over your lips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve kept seeing you around this place by the way. Which is weird, because it’s a small town but it’s not that small.” He chuckles, shaking his head as he takes another bite of food.

You wish you were strong enough to lie, but instead it comes blurting out. “You have. I mean...I’ve seen you around too. And...we went on that trip to Santorini together. Kind of. I mean, not actually together.  But...you know what I mean.”

Hoseok watches with a single brow raised, amusement rippling over his face as he chews slowly. He swallows as he nods. “Yeah, I thought so. Honestly, that’s why I came over. I was pretty sure I recognised you and...well you’re pretty and you look interesting.”

Well, now your body is definitely heating up and it’s not because of the sun.

“I’m not that interesting. Really. Unless you find museum curator’s interesting.” You blurt out, running a hand down your dress to smooth out any wrinkles. At that, his face opens up in interest and he sits forward, placing the knife and fork onto his now empty plate and looks at you with enthusiasm.

“A museum curator? Oh wow, I wasn’t even sure if you’d finished college.” He stops suddenly, face blanking before cringing. “Oh god, I’m sorry. That sounded weird. Oh no it was weird. I’m sorry.” He repeats, hands coming out to try and placate you, despite you not being bothered.

“Why is that weird?” You ask and he flushes, tanned cheeks dusting with rosy pink.

“Well...I’m 33 and as soon as I said it, I realised how weird it would sound if I thought you were like 21 or something. Oh god, I wish I’d never said anything.” He grimaces, running a hand over his face exasperatedly and you laugh.

“No, no. That is very much a compliment Mr Jung. I’m 29, I’ve been doing my job now for four years. In fact, that’s kind of why I’m in Greece. I’ve spent the last month in Turkey, Egypt, Malta, Italy and Greece as my specialty is ancient Mediterranean cultures.” Why you’re suddenly babbling about your job, you have no idea.

But he looks completely fascinated and begins to question you about it; the exact cities you’d visited, the food you’d eaten, the sights you’d seen and even what kind of work you did in the museum. It had been a long time since a man had been genuinely interested in your job.

You seemed to unfortunately attract men whose eyes literally glazed over when they heard the word museum usually.

Hoseok however, is completely intrigued and asks plenty of intelligent questions. Not only that, but he’s knowledgeable about museums too. An in depth conversation between the two of you last over the main meal, you with souvlaki and him with a Cretan speciality of smoked pork.

It’s halfway through his conversation about the German Historical Museum in Berlin that he suddenly stops, blushing even harder as he scrapes his fork over his empty plate. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve been babbling about myself and not even telling you anything interesting.” His lips turn in a wry smile and you reach forward without thinking, fingers resting on the smooth skin of his warm hand to stop his fretful movements.

“It’s fine, honestly. It’s lovely to meet someone who enjoys museums as much as I do. But I am kind of curious about you in turn.” He snorts and wipes his mouth with a napkin, leaving the white fabric slightly red.

“Erm, well. I’m a director for a PR company in New York City.” He says, the words almost mumbled, as if he didn’t want you to hear. Which isn’t surprising, as your own brows raise. You’d already informed him that you lived on the outskirts of NYC, your museum small and humble compared to the giants in the city.

As such though, you were well aware that for to be someone so high up in a PR company in one of the most expensive cities of the world, he was probably earning some serious bank. Though, you could guess that from his clothing. It had been a slightly heart stopping moment to realise that he was wearing over $30,000 on his wrist, the watch only familiar to you because Taehyung was some weird watch aficionado.

“Do you have any fancy clients then? I bet it must be a nightmare when something goes wrong.” You ask lightly, running your finger along the rim of your wineglass and completely missing the way his eyes focus on the slow movement.

“Yeah, we’ve got some big clients. And yeah, they’re an equally big pain when something goes bad. But when you pull it off, that’s a good feeling.” He smirks, eyes flicking up to meet yours and you can’t help but bite your lip to try and stop the weird feeling in your chest. Hoseok is truly gorgeous, but did he have to be so damn nice too?

“I’d say I’m glad I work in a museum, but what’s the more nerve wracking job? Failing to do damage control well for a multi billion dollar company...or accidentally breaking a one-of-a-kind, millennia old antique?” The words are teasing and his hissing grimace is equally as playful.

“That’s a tough one. Probably yours if I’m being honest. Is anyone really gonna give a shit about one company making a boo-boo when they do that every other year? On the other hand...breaking a priceless ancient Greek vase...yeah history isn’t gonna look kindly on that.” He taps his fingers against his sharp jaw and you laugh lightly, happy that he played along with you.

Your conversation continues on for a while, allowing you both to have little glimpses into each others lives. Wild tales of friends soon come from you both, trying to one up each other while tender moments are revealed about your families. It’s strange, how you’ve barely known him for an hour, yet feel more comfortable with him than people you’ve known for years.

“How come you’re travelling alone then? You’re obviously a sociable guy, so I don’t know why you don’t have a partner or friends with you?” You query quietly, thanking the waiter as he brings a plate of baklava to your table for the both of you, along with some freshly cut fruit. The shot of ouzo that always seems to accompany meals being consumed with grimaces from you both.

He coughs as the liquid burns down his throat before sucking on a piece of melon, apparently oblivious to how utterly seductive that move is. Humming to himself, he swallows the fruit before continuing on. “I always travel alone. I do have friends, but they’re always busy with either jobs, or families now. So...I figure why not? I want to go abroad, what’s to stop me? What about you? You’re on your own, and have been for a month.”

Smiling, you nod your head as you acknowledge that he’s got you there. Biting down on the baklava, you enjoy the sweet flavours before responding to him. “Same really, my best friend was busy and my other friends are busy being moms and wives right now. This has been a dream trip for me for years and when the museum gave me the option to do some work for it too, I thought it was too good to not do. Gotta be bold sometimes right?”

Your bright smile has him responding in kind, teeth gripping down on a grape before his tongue slowly pulls it into his mouth. Licking your lips in response, you find it almost bizarre how your body seems to think everything needs to be done a little more alluringly, licking your fingers slower than you normally would.

It’s a slow game that you’d only realised the two of you had been playing since he’d sat at the table, and apparently one he’d been aware of longer than you. But you were pretty sure he’d caught on by now, and his tan skin, practically glowing in the light of the setting sun, was just crying out for you to touch it.

“Yeah, sometimes you gotta be bold.” He repeats, tone even deeper than before and you clench your thighs together at the rasping syllables. The plate between you is empty now, and you both sit there for a moment, simply staring at each other with expressions that said you were still hungry for something.

Lisa’s words float through your head slowly and you watch Hoseok quietly for a few seconds more, your easy conversation slowly dying as the growing sense of awareness between the two of you takes over. Chewing on your lip nervously, you grip your white sundress with slightly trembling hands before taking a deep breath.

Sometimes, you have to be bold.

“Are you free tonight?” You ask bluntly, causing his brows to rise in surprise before the corners of his mouth tips upwards in a pleased smile. He looks happy at your question, and you wonder if he always gets girls asking him for sex or if he’s usually the one to chase. Whatever his normal options, he seems to be reciprocative to your obvious suggestion.

“Why yes I am. Would you like to join me? I’m staying at a villa and it has the most beautiful view of the sea.” He states flirtatiously, eyes lighting up with anticipation while he bites at his lip slowly, teeth pulling the luscious pink skin before letting it drag back out. Watching the movement, you suppress a groan as his tongue slides across his lips, leaving behind a soft sheen of wetness.

“Crete does have very beautiful sea views.” You practically whisper, internally embarrassed at how desperate you’re beginning to sound for him. But he seems to be reciprocative, almost enthusiastic to your blatant display of desire.

“And I have some delicious champagne if that’s interesting to you. I’d love to hear you tell me more about Ancient Greek history, you must make a very good teacher when you lead tours occasionally. I’ve never been so interested in history.” He gestures over to the waiter for the bill and you can’t help but smile at the praise, idly wondering if he’s being genuine or just trying to butter you up to get in your pants.

Though you reason to yourself that you’ve made it pretty obvious that you’re reciprocative to him, and so presume he was being genuine. He did seem to be very interested in the random history information you’d bombarded him with earlier.

“I could, if you really want that. But I’m sure we can both think of something more interesting to do.” Placing down a bunch of Euros to pay for your half, making sure to leave plenty to tip the wait staff on your last night, you watch as he lets out a laugh, hands clapping together in delight.

He adds his own money to yours, the amount surely eye watering to the staff, but doesn’t blink an eye at it as you both make your way out of the restaurant. A quick ‘yassas’ to the waiter on the door and you’re standing in the street, Greek music filtering through the air as a nearby venue’s traditional Greek night gets underway. Hoseok stands next to you for a moment, breathing in deep and taking in the warm, island air.

Without a word, he reaches out and grasps your hand firmly, long fingers intertwining with your own before he’s squeezing gently. His hand is large and warm, the skin smooth and comforting as he begins to walk down the street. You follow him leisurely, appreciating that he’s not practically yanking your arm off for sex and take a moment to drink in the sight of his tall, lean frame.

Your perusal doesn’t go unnoticed as he catches your eye, lips breaking into that familiar, heart shaped grin once more before he tugs you closer and takes a moment to press his nose into your hair. “Do you like what you see?” He asks quietly, hot breath fanning a few strands of breakaway hair and you heat up at the high school-esque question.

Looking up at him demurely, you let your own tongue wet your lips and watch with satisfaction as his eyes track the moment heatedly, irises blowing out slightly as his nostrils flare. “Very much. But I think I’d like it better in your villa.” Where this minx came from, you have no idea.

He chuckles and turns back, pulling on your arm slightly as his long legs eat up the distance. “Well then, I think we better hurry up hmm?”

-

When Hoseok had told you that he was staying in a villa, you could honestly say that you weren’t sure what you were imagining. You weren’t too up on what villa’s looked like. What you saw however, was jaw dropping and made your brows raise in surprise.

White washed walls alternate with pale stone and everywhere you look there are glass doors that lead out to a serene pool, outlined in white tile. It was surrounded by high walls on three sides, providing utter privacy while the back was open to the beauty of the ocean. There was no beach, the craggy seafront didn’t allow for that, but it was still a truly stunning view.

He hadn’t been lying.

Unusually, there was no key for the front door and you watched as he simply input a code into an electronic keypad, a beep sounding as the door unlocked itself. Inside, a security system was turned off quickly and you were left to marvel at the interior.

It was a study in modernity meeting tradition, with dark wood furniture dotted around the open plan rooms while sleek, black metal takes up where wood can’t. A ridiculously large television sits proudly against the wall of the living room, facing two black sofas that are covered in subtly patterned blankets.

Greek style art and vases dot the area, bringing bright splashes of colour to the sparse room and you can’t help but admire the decorating skills of whoever owns this place. When you query this, he lets out a hiccuping laugh as he bends down in the kitchen, disappearing behind a luxurious island in the centre.

“My friend, Jimin. If you want to see rich, then you should see him. Guy’s an investment banker on Wall Street, he makes the kind of money that makes you sick.” You stare at his watch as he says that, brow raised as he sucks his lower lip in amusement. “Hey, if I’m saying that…” He shrugs, lean shoulders lifting underneath his shirt.

Sitting on one of the backless stools that frame the counter, you rest your chin on your hands as you watch him pull a champagne bucket - a champagne bucket! - out from one of the cupboards and fill it with ice from the freezer before adding in around a third of cold water. He then places a bottle of expensive looking champagne in it before heading over to the fridge.

There doesn’t look to be a lot inside, but you do note with interest the bowl of strawberries he pulls out and sits inbetween you both as he heads over. Another bowl is produced and he breaks some Belgian chocolate into it, putting it into the microwave to melt before strolling over and holding a final piece between two fingers.

Brows raised, you watch as he gestures towards your mouth his hand, jaw tilting up to signal his want. Keeping eye contact with those luscious, dark eyes, you let your lips fall open slowly and allow him to place the piece firmly on your tongue, the softest moan leaving you as the decadent chocolate begins to melt in a burst of flavour.

His fingers remain for a moment, and you can’t help but take the opportunity to wrap your lips around them, sucking ever so softly before using the tip of your tongue to wipe away the chocolate residue that had melted. Hoseok isn’t as quiet as you with his groan, but a hundred emotions seem to flutter across his face, and every one of them is firmly in the desire range.

The ding from the microwave distracts him, causing him to have to pull his gaze away from your mouth and you watch him shake his head in amusement as he brings the bowl back over. “I don’t know why that surprised me, but I appreciated it. A lot.” He whispers, coming around the counter to sit next to you.

Placing the bowl down, he takes a seat on the stool next to you and maneuvers his legs so that they’re surrounding your knees. Leaning forwards, you inhale sharply as his face is only inches from yours and your eyes flutter slightly at the expensive cologne that emanates from him. Is there anything better than a man who smells good?

The answer is yes, A man who smells good, feeding you chocolate dipped strawberries.

Which is exactly what Hoseok does, fingers trailing over the juicy, red fruits until he finds one he likes and picks it up. Glancing to you, he makes sure you’re watching as he dips the pointed end into the melted chocolate, twisting it slowly to make sure it has an even coating before lifting it back it up, waiting until it stops dripping.

You’re not sure why it’s so sensual, but just watching him has you clenching your thighs and letting out a stuttering breath. He’s close enough that he can hear it though, and see your reaction to him, and you watch a tiny smirk kick up one corner of his mouth.

“Open wide.” He murmurs, bringing the strawberry to your lips and giving a pleased smile when you do so immediately. “You’re very obedient, I can’t even begin to describe how much of a turn on that is.” His laugh is breathy and you can feel it over your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms.

Instead of letting your respond however, he places the strawberry into your mouth and watches as you bite down on it, careful not to bite his fingers. The bitterness of the dark chocolate soothes the sweetness of the fruit and a tiny whimper leaves you as you stare directly into his dark eyes.

“Good?” He asks, placing the remains on the counter while preparing a second and taking a bite himself. You chew and swallow carefully, licking your lips once finished and watch as he takes his time to eat his own.

Slowly, the strawberries disappear on the plate and despite the fact it’s evening and the temperature is lowering outside, it only seems to be getting warmer inside until you get the urge to tug off your sundress. But not yet, you sense it’s too soon for that still.

When the final strawberry is left and the chocolate has begun to harden again, Hoseok takes a glance at it before focusing back on your lips and grinning. Scooping up the final bits of chocolate, he goes to feed it to you and you open your mouth as expected.

Instead, he slowly drags the strawberry over your lower lip, smearing it in rich, dark chocolate before sliding it into your mouth sensually and letting you bite down. Before you can even attempt to start chewing it properly, he’s closed the gap between your faces and a shudder wracks your body at the feel of his wet tongue as it slowly trails over the sweet layer, lapping it up before licking into your mouth.

Moaning out, your arms automatically wrap around his neck as he kisses you slowly, mindful of the strawberry that you’d still to swallow. By the time he pulls away from you, the kiss only seconds long yet feeling like he’d been kissing you for minutes, he simply grins and opens his mouth, tongue flat to reveal the strawberry you’d bitten.

Chuckling at the look on your face, he chews it and swallows before grabbing the bucket and standing up, reaching for your hand and tugging you towards the railing-less stairs. The upstairs is much like the downstairs, and you spy two closed doors before he’s leading through the only open door.

The bedroom is everything you expect from a high class villa like this, with a queen sized bed currently covered in plain white sheets and pale blue silk throw pillows artfully placed at the head. But that’s not the jaw dropping bit. No, it’s the fact that two of the four walls are simply glass doors, and you watch as he opens them up until half of the room is open to the elements.

It’s bathed in an orange glow as the sun is still setting far out to sea, the slick waves reflecting a distorted mirror image of the visual beauty happening overhead. You could spend an entire holiday out here on the balcony, gasping in wonder as your hands grasp the glass balcony wall.

Hoseok places the bucket on a wooden table before heading over to you, arms coming around your sides before they rest next to yours on the glass. The evening is still warm, though the breeze brings the cooling fingers of night. Your hardening nipples have nothing to do with that though, and everything to do with the hot body pressing itself gently behind you.

He feels solid and oddly reassuring, the width of his chest resting against your shoulders while you feel the shadow of a solid erection brush past the apex of your ass. Hoseok is evidently a master of seduction however, as he doesn’t push too hard on that front, instead resting his head on your shoulder as the two of you look out at the sea.

“Tell me an interesting fact about Greece.” The words whisper from his mouth, low and guttural so as not to interrupt the mood. Humming to yourself, you bring one finger to tap against your chin and enjoy the way he laughs, breath dancing past your cheek as he looks at you slightly.

“The Greek alphabet was the first to have vowels written down.” You respond, voice breathy from his proximity. He’s quiet for a moment before he lets out a bark of laughter, arms moving to wrap around your waist for a moment as he rocks you from side to side before letting go and sitting at the chair on the table.

A finger runs along the rim of one of the champagne glasses he seems to have produced from nowhere and you watch as his tongue runs along his teeth slowly. “I love it when you talk history to me.”

Sniggering, you sit in the chair opposite him and cross a leg over the other, resting your hands in your lap to keep them from quivering. He may have joked about his age earlier, but the control that came with that age was really showing through now as he pours a third of a glass full of champagne.

Honestly, you want to jump on him right now and see if his skin is that stunning all over.

Taking the glass from his offered hand, you swirl it for a moment before taking a sip of the cold liquid. You’re really not sure what the etiquette for drinking champagne is, but he doesn’t seem to care as he swallows it down almost greedily.

It’s overwhelmingly bubbly at first, almost getting up your nose and you make the most attractive sneeze as it does so, nose wrinkling as your head shakes. He chuckles at that, an amused smile prominent as he watches you get used to the texture and flavour.

“What do you think?” He asks, lifting up his own glass to gesture to you almost lazily.

Almost instantly, you’re grasping for words as you have no idea how to describe it. Taking another drink, you let it rest on your tongue before swallowing slowly. Humming as if you know what you’re talking about, you nod sagely. “It’s...crisp...and...champagney.” Immediately you’re cringing while he starts guffawing.

“Oh god, I’m sure Dom Perignon would be ecstatic to hear that.” He snorts, head tilting as he swallows the final bit in his cup. Your eyes widen in response though and you reach out slowly, turning the bottle until the label comes into view and you choke loudly.

Holy shit! He was feeding you Dom Perignon. A woman he’d barely known for three hours and here he was, letting you drink champagne that probably cost...well you didn’t even want to think about it. And you’d just described it as ‘champagney’!

Hoseok watches you suffer for a minute before smiling, leaning over and taking the glass from you before setting it on the table. “It’s fine, not everyone likes it. And I’m not expecting you to suddenly fall in love with it. It’s not to everyone’s taste..”

You groan quietly, pushing a hand into your face as embarrassment takes over. This man, this beautiful man, was so out of your league it’s not even funny. And yet, with the way he’s looking at you right now, he makes you feel as though you’re right at home next to him.

“I do think I know something that will be to my taste though.” He whispers, the words light and yet swarming with desire and dripping with lust. You watch him for a few seconds in admiration, eyes tracing over his face and the way the setting sun sets his skin ablaze.

“Wha-” Anything you’re about to say is cut off though when he suddenly grabs your hand and tugs you out of your chair, practically falling into his lap and gasping as your hands press against his firm chest to stop yourself from hurting him. From your elevated view, you get to take in the stunning sight of his statuesque face as he gazes up at you, want painted over every inch.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He whispers before a hand is wrapping around your neck, pressing gently until your lips meet once more. It’s chaste at first, lips pressing against soft lips until his tongue slowly trails along the seam in an unspoken request for more.

Granting it, you let them fall open enough for him to gain entrance and a quiet moan leaves you as he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth before tangling it with your own. He tastes sweet from the strawberries, dark from the chocolate and expensive from the champagne. Truly, Apollo turned to flesh to burn you up from the inside.

While his mouth takes yours on a slow dance of seduction, his fingers are moving in their own dance of persuasion as they skip and play along the straps of your dress before reaching your waist. Each touch sends tiny shivers of pleasure and he plays your body like marionette doll, a press here and a stroke there until your front is plastered against his own.

Breaking away from you for a moment, he looks down to where your breasts are pressed to his chest with a pleased smirk, enjoying the way they look along with how they feel. Rubbing his hands along your waist a few times, he watches you closely as they move down to your ass, gripping tightly and encouraging your hips to grind against his erection slowly.

A low groan leaves your throat as your head falls back, exposing the expanse of skin to his eager mouth while he hisses in response to the friction. Each slow grind of your hips corresponds to a harsh suck of his mouth on your throat, colourful bruises blooming to life at his rough treatment.

And yet your own hands grip his hair firmly, tugging in response to each pull of his mouth until he’s ripping himself away. Looking up at you with hooded eyes, almost black in the dimming light, he gasps before licking his lips.

“Oh yeah, you taste better than that. But I bet you taste even better somewhere else.” He states boldly, huffing a quiet laugh as your thighs go to clench closed at his words, only to squeeze his hips instead.

You expect him to let you stand up and move the activities into the bedroom, only he surprises you in a display of strength that has the centre of your thighs releasing even more slick to ruin your panties. Gripping the underside of your thighs, he grunts as he lifts and stands at the same time, planes of muscle under his shirt shifting while his biceps have their own moment of glory and stretch out his sleeves.

An unbidden whimper leaves your mouth at the sight as he deposits you onto the table, pushing the ice cold bucket away from you and leaving your legs draped over the edge. Lifting your head to look at him, you’re about to speak when he suddenly begins to slide his fingers up your calves.

Connecting your eyes with his, you watch with widening eyes as he begins to push the hem of your sundress over your thighs, the material tickling your hypersensitive skin until finally he can’t move it anymore because of your ass. Raising a brow at you, he gives a pleased smile when your hips lift up, allowing him to push the fabric further up to reveal the flat expanse of your stomach.

He doesn’t stop though, and keeps going till he’s tugging the dress over your shoulders before throwing it into the bedroom somewhere. It’s at this point that he takes a moment to simply admire you, eyes taking in the sight of your exposed skin under the dying sunlight and he lets out a sigh of pleasure, content with what he’s seeing.

“Christ, how can anyone look at the scenery when there’s you to enjoy?” He whispers, leaning forward and pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the centre of your stomach. Gasping at the wet feeling, your hands twine through his hair as he begins to leisurely kiss and lick his way upwards until he’s sucking on the soft, vulnerable skin of your breast.

“How can anyone look at the items in your museum when you’re there?” He presses a kiss gently before letting his tongue play over the hardened nub of your nipple, grinning at the wanton moan that escapes you as he does so. “I bet there’s not a thing in that museum more awe inspiring than the sight in front of me right now.” He murmurs before his mouth is sucking on your nipple, the pressure immense and almost painful before he’s letting go and admiring the way it puckers for him so prettily.

My god, who was this guy?!

Hoseok lets his tongue play along your breasts, swirling around the tip of your nipple before lovingly sucking it into his mouth. He stops suddenly though, pulling back before his eyes glance to the bucket next to your head, the metal sweating in the evening warmth. Giving the sensitive bud a light grazing with his teeth, he pulls away before tugging the bottle out of the ice.

“What are yo-Hoseok!” You cry out, giving a slight shriek as he pours the cold champagne onto your peaked breast, a husky laugh leaving him as his head dips down immediately to catch the fizzing liquid as it trickles down your chest. Gasping out at the sensation of his scorching tongue heating up your cooled flesh, your fingers slip into his soft hair and grip firmly.

“Hoseok! What are you doing? This is way too expensive to be...licking it off me.” You pant out, hands pushing his talented mouth even closer despite the words you’re telling him. He laughs gruffly, letting his nose brush against your skin as he follows an errant trickle before staying in place, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin over your ribcage.

“You’re wrong,” He says, voice slightly muffled as he tips a small amount over your nipple and immediately goes chasing. “This is exactly the right way to drink champagne. Why spend $300 on a bottle if you’re not going to lick it off the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen?”

It takes a moment for his words to penetrate your lust filled mind, but when it does you look down at him with wide eyes to see a toothy grin before those teeth bite down on the tender flesh. The price makes you eye the bottle warily until his compliment filters through and your stomach twists on itself, your legs clenching around his hips.

You don’t need to respond to him as he seems to understand what your body tells him silently, and he smiles sweetly, pressing a warm hand down on your trembling stomach muscles. He moves it slowly up to your neck, pulling you forwards slightly before he tips the bottle to your lips, letting you swallow a small amount before he’s placing the bottle to the side and swooping down to attach his lips to yours.

The taste of the champagne swirls around both of your mouths as he leisurely strokes your tongue with his, his cooled hand now grazing your side in slow movements until he pulls away and shifts backwards.

Eyes flicking to yours, his lips kick upwards before he’s sitting back down and spreading your legs for him, eyeing the sight of your slick dampened panties like a feast that’s been laid out just for him. Slowly, and making sure that you maintain eye contact with him the entire time, he shifts closer in the chair until you can feel the burning heat of his breath on your pussy.

“Do you want me to touch you here?” He asks and you want to cry from the need to have his tongue, his fingers, anything, touch you and relieve some of the ache. Nodding, you slur out some response to him and reach down, grasping for his head only to watch him jerk out of the way with a happy smile.

“Okay.” Is all he responds with, and you expect him to play some more games with you. Only he doesn’t.

Instead, he leans forward and places his mouth over the damp fabric of your panties, tongue pressing firmly to wet them even more. You can’t feel his tongue properly, can’t feel the slick wetness of the firm muscle and it drives you mad as he uses the fabric to lazily dull some of the pleasure. Whining at him, you grasp for his hair again and listen to his amused chuckle as he once more ducks out of the way.

A finger dances and skips it way along your inner thigh before it’s accompanied by his others, his nails lightly scraping along the sensitive flesh there until you’re shuddering with need. Humming in delight at your reactions to him, it’s with those deft fingers that he suddenly grabs the panties and tugs at them forcefully, the fabric almost burning in the speed that he pulls them off.

Gasping out an ‘oh’, you’re about to say something until suddenly those luscious pink lips wrap themselves around your clit and suck deeply. Crying out, your head hits the table with a thud as your hips undulate towards his mouth, body clenching on itself at the pleasure.

As he sucks, you feel the tip of his tongue playing with the tiny bud and immediately you’re writhing, uncaring of the rapidly cooling breeze that has the hair on you standing on end. How could you care, when this unbelievable man is between your legs and is worshipping you like a Greek goddess?

Hoseok hums to himself, a song you don’t recognise, but the effect is instantaneous as the vibrations cause tiny quakes of pleasure that have your legs tightening around his head. His elegant nose is pressed to your mound and you heat up as you hear him inhale unabashadley, taking in the scent of your arousal as he drags his tongue down to your weeping entrance.

Extending out that wonderful, talented tongue, he dips it into your pussy as far as he can before he curls it upwards, ever so slowly pulling it out to drag along your walls. An animalistic cry is pulled from your lungs as he does so, the sheer heat of the muscle combined with the slickness making you extra sensitive.

“Hoseok, chri-Hoseok please.” What you’re begging him for, you don’t know, but he seems to be pleased at what he’s hearing anyway. A loud clanking noise makes you jerk in surprise as you shift, watching him grasp the cold champagne bottle and bring it between your legs.

You go to stop him, afraid that he thinks pouring champagne down there is a good idea, only to let out a garbled noise as he presses the freezing glass to your clit. The temperature of it has your body shuddering in an excruciating combination of ecstasy and pain as he presses it firmly against you, circling it in slow motions that has shocks of pleasure fizzing in your veins.

“Jesus fucking-Hoseok!” You cry out, part of your mind aware that he’s using a bottle of fucking Dom Perignon as a sex toy. Hands grasping for him, you grip his wrist firmly yet don’t pull it away. No, if anything, you actually want him to go harder.

But he takes the choice away from you, pulling the bottle away before enveloping the cold little bud into his mouth. A mouth that now feels as hot as the centre of the sun and the temperature difference has you shrieking out, hand letting go of his wrist to pull at his dark hair.

He carries on for another few minutes or so, happily lapping at your clit in tiny kitten licks before sucking on it long and deep before he evidently decides he’s had enough foreplay. Standing, he grips under you and tugs you to him before lifting you up in one swift movement, your legs wrapping around his waist quickly while your arms lay around his neck in a languid movement.

“No orgasm?” You murmur to him, disappointed. A low laugh leaves him as he leans forward slightly, pressing soft yet damp kisses to your collarbones with a pleased noise.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get everything you’re hoping for.” He whispers, moving his head so close to your own that your noses are almost brushing against each other. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon and already darkness is chasing, the moon beginning to become brighter as it takes its rightful place.

Hoseok strides into the bedroom, pushing past the gauzy curtains before carefully laying you on the bed, a knee pressed to the mattress. Observing you for a moment, he lets out almost a sigh of utter desire and contentment, running both hands along your waist almost reverently before he’s leaning down, catching your lips in a quick yet deep kiss.

Standing back up, you push up onto your elbows and watch with greedy eyes as he begins to unbutton his shirt, going even slower once he catches your eyes with an amused grin. Each button gives way with ease, slowly revealing an expanse of tanned skin that under the sun, you’re sure would be golden, but in the slowly strengthening moonlight begins to pale slightly.

You swallow slowly, worried that you’re drooling at the sight of his torso as it’s exposed. Hoseok is lean yet incredibly toned, the muscles of his abdomen clearly defined yet not obscene and it makes you pant slightly, even more wetness coating the insides of your thighs.

He doesn’t take the shirt off though, nor does he take off the obscenely expensive watch adorning his wrist. Instead, he keeps his eyes firmly on you while unbuttoning his pants, the movement slow and seductive before he drags them, along with his underwear, down his muscled thighs.

Almost immediately, his thick cock bursts free and bounces in the air, a drop of clear liquid beading at the tip in his excitement. You don’t even realise the low noise of sheer, desperate need that you let out until Hoseok himself lets out a snort, shaking his head while a hand runs through his hair slowly.

“You look like you’ve seen something you want.” He rasps out, climbing onto the bed in slow and measured movements until he’s hovering over you. A slow roll of his hips has his cock grinding against your pubic bone, the hot shaft twitching at the movement as he lets out a deep groan of satisfaction.

“Fuck,” Hoseok whispers, almost inaudible as he dips his forehead to lean in the crook of your neck. “Every part of you is amazing, you know that?” You can’t help but laugh at his words, spurred from the pleasure his dick is sending into his body but you still take the opportunity to let your hands drag along his slim back, feeling the indent of each muscle and biting your lip at him.

“I want you.” He states bluntly, lifting his head to let you see the sheer dark want in his eyes and you keen out softly, lifting your head up to chase his lips in a wanton kiss of need. It’s lazy and unhurried, despite the constant grind of his hips against yours and the pool of liquid excitement between your legs.

Pushing at his shoulders, you separate and he lets you roll him over until his back is resting against the soft mattress of his bed, an impish smile taking over that makes him look very young. Straddling his thighs, you smirk down at him as you grasp his cock firmly in one hand, enjoying the way he lets out a quiet whimper before his eyes close as you stroke him.

“I want you too. Condom?” You ask quietly and he pauses for a moment, a look of panic washing over his face before relief filters through quickly soon afterwards. He nods towards his pants and gasps out something about a wallet, eyes rolling back as you give him a particularly tight squeeze.

It takes mere seconds to root his wallet out of his pocket before you tug out the single foil wrapped condom, brow raising at him. “Didn’t think you were going to get lucky huh?” You ask cheekily, bouncing back onto the bed and enjoying the way he laughs for a moment before his hands grab for your hips.

“No, but then again I wasn’t expecting to meet a goddess either.” Hoseok states, lip quirking up with amusement. You let out an ‘ooh’ noise as you roll the condom down him slowly, enjoying the sight of him.

He has a pleasing penis, you decide wryly. Not long, but girthy enough to know he’ll feel good and with the slightest curve that has your inner muscles clenching around air. A few more strokes has him especially solid in your hands and you straddle his hips, running the tip of him along your pussy in eased movements.

Moaning quietly, you enjoy the tiny sparks of gratification that pop in your veins as you coat his stiff shaft, your wetness lubing him while each press stimulates your aching clit. For a good 30 seconds, you simply enjoy using him to get yourself off before your eyes open and you catch the sight of his pained expression.

“Ready?” You whisper, shifting up slightly while you align yourself with him. His eyes are firmly focused on the where the tip of him is slowly edging its way into you, a gasping groan leaving his throat easily. Despite this, he somehow remembers your question and nods his head, hands resting firmly on your hips as he waits for your move.

You don’t respond to him, but instead sink down and let out a breathy moan as he stretches you deliciously. It doesn’t take long before you’re resting on his hips, his cock as deep in you as he can get and you sigh out, rocking your hips in a slow circle while you squeeze him internally.

He pants out a pained gasp, hands gripping tightly and you feel his hips reflexively jerk up into you, the movement pushing him further inside. Grinning slightly, you begin to rock with more intent, each slow roll of your stomach causing your hips to undulate on top of him and slide him in and out of you in slow, lazy drags.

“Fucking hell, you feel so fucking good.” He grunts and you can feel the strain in his hands, desperately wanting you to go faster on him but unwilling to push you yet. Reaching down, you take one hand of his and press it firmly to your breast, squeezing his fingers around you and getting a jolt of satisfaction when he shifts to pinch your nipple playfully.

You let him use his other hand to direct your hips further, the speed of your rocks increasing until all that can be heard are the slaps of flesh against flesh, the slick wetness of his cock inside you and the pleasured pants and moans from the both of you.

Leaning forward slightly, you let the angle shift and enjoy the way he soon picks up the slack, his hips jerking up into you in solid thrusts. Each movement has his cock dragging against your g-spot, with tiny, gasping whimpers leaving your mouth until you’re whining quietly, head dropping even further down.

“Touch yourself princess.” Hoseok says, his voice so deep and guttural that it sounds as it he’s speaking from his chest. He removes his hand from your chest and instead grips your ass firmly, the muscles in his biceps becoming noticeable as he moves you in time to his thrusts.

The noise you let out isn’t intelligible, but it’s a confirmation of his request and you bring a hand to press at your clit slowly. Experienced fingers push the hood of the pebbled bud away before you begin to circle, and almost immediately a rasping cry leaves your throat from the pleasure.

“Good girl, keep doing that.” He whispers, shifting slightly as he braces himself better before he begins to pound into you. It sends ricochets of satisfaction through you as your body jerks forward with each slap of his thighs against your buttocks, each drag of his cock pressing against all the sweetest spots inside you.

“Oh god Hoseok, oh god,” You moan out, eyes closing and denying you the beautiful vision of Hoseok looking fucked out with need and desire. He mutters encouragements to you, his voice low enough to send your inner muscles quivering around him and you slow in your movements between your thighs.

How are you possibly supposed to orgasm with this much pleasure happening?

But he senses your thoughts and brings a hand to press against yours, encouraging you to keep pleasuring yourself while he takes care of the rest of you. “Cum for me princess, come on. You can do it.” He pants out, his abdomen flexing underneath you and the white of his shirt almost glowing in the moonlight.

A pinch of your nipple combines perfectly with a swirl of your fingers and a thrust of his cock, the three events combining together to push you over the edge and you find yourself falling into the fizzing pit of overwhelming pleasure. Garbled noises of gratification escape you as you cum, eyes clenched shut as your inner muscles convulse repeatedly around his thick shaft.

Hoseok is moaning out in response, hips working even faster until he suddenly presses firmly into you once and a guttural groan rips from him. Even through your orgasm, you can feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock as he empties into the condom and by the time he’s finished, his hips are making tiny movements to let him ride out the final sparks of pleasure from his orgasm.

Slumping forward onto his chest, you both simply lay there for a minute in a silence that is only broken by the ragged pants from the two of you. Underneath your head, his chest is heaving for breaths and you feel the sticky sheen of sweat on both of you, cooling rapidly in the night breeze that rolls through the open windows.

“That...was every bit as good as I thought it would be.” Hoseok laughs raspily, running a tired hand along your back slowly before shifting you to the side. He sits up tiredly and tugs off the condom, disposing of it before standing on shaking legs and disappearing.

The tiredness of your day exploring, combined with the relentless sun and Hoseok’s ministrations has you dozing off before he even comes back from the bathroom, a towel in hand and a fond smile as he takes in your sleeping figure.

-

You wake the next morning slowly, eyes blinking blearily at the sun brightened room and it takes a moment for your memory to come back to you. A muffled moan leaves you as you curl into the soft, white pillow and inhale deeply, taking in the scent of sex and the undeniably expensive scent of Hoseok.

It’s only after a few more minutes of blissful quiet, the only sounds the distant crashing of the waves on the shore, that you realise it’s actually eerily quiet. Shifting in bed, the sheets wrapping around your body tightly as you do so, you spy an empty bed next to you.

The pillow isn’t even dented anymore, telling you that Hoseok has been gone for a while. Tugging the sheet against your chest, you sit up and look around in confusion. There’s no champagne outside, and the room seems oddly clean.

Swinging your legs over the edge, you’re about to stand until you note the white sheet of paper that flutters slightly in the gentle wind underneath a seashell. It’s then that you note your bag is next to the bed as well, instead of on the couch downstairs where you’d left it last night.

Reaching out, you take the note and read it quietly.

Princess,

Sorry if this all sounds awkward, I’ve never had to write a post-sex apology note. I should be better at this as a PR expert.

I’m sorry to leave you like this. When I said it was my last night, I meant literally. My flight is in the early morning and I had to leave to make it. I meant to walk you to your hotel but fell asleep too.

I’ve cleaned the villa, don’t worry. All you have to do is make sure everything locks behind you. Feel free to take the last of the champagne with you to make your last day even better. I really want to thank you for last night, I enjoyed both it and you.

I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me but I’ve left my number for you. When you’re back in New York, I’d love to visit your museum if you’d be okay with that. Maybe you can even give me a tour? Or even if you just want to talk, I’d like that too.

Yours,

Hoseok

Smiling down at the note, you reach into your bag and pull out your phone, glad it still has some battery left. It takes only seconds to enter his number into your contacts list and you sit there and admire it for a moment, your empty stomach bubbling over with a multitude of emotions.

Placing both down on the nightstand, you head out to the balcony and rest your arms on the glass edge, careful to make sure you remain covered even though there’s no one there to appreciate. Watching the slow but steady movement of the cerulean ocean that stretches as far as the eye can see, you can’t stop the smile that creeps over your face at everything that happened.

Any trepidation you had about going home is gone now, and instead there’s just a tremor of excitement that is ready to burst inside you. Yes, you think that you’re ready to go home now, especially given you have something so wonderful to look forward to.

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btssunshinenet #btscreatorsnet #btssmutclub #hoseok smut #j hope smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #j hope x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #hobi fluff #hobi smut #hoseok holiday #holiday au #vacation au #summer au

[sunkisse-s-blog1]

how skz comfort honey pt II

summary: maknae line found a gloomy honey.

pairing: honey and maknae line.

genre: fluff/angst.

eras: “I am NOT”, “I am WHO”, “I am WHO”, “pre Clé 1: Miroh” and “Clé 1: Miroh”, respectively. 

notes: hey sweethearts, I am so sorry for keeping you guys waiting. but FINALLY!!! so, differently from part 1, I am putting the scenarios in chronological time. I might have disappointed by those “comforts”, but Honey is not someone who cries easily… so I tried to match both her personality with the personalities from the boys in my au (also their relationship). bye

Jeongin and Honey were at school, break time just started and the younger left to buy them sandwiches. Reminding himself that Hwamin only liked tuna or cheese sandwich, and it could never have any sort of greenery. She ended staying in their class, finishing her homework so she could help I.N later. What Hwamin didn’t expect, though, is to someone break the bubble she was involved, a sheepish touch on her shoulder. Usually, no one stayed in class during the break, which was the was the reason the maknaes from Stray Kids always made their very own picnic there. The one who called her was a petite girl, a few inches smaller than Hwamin. She was wearing the school’s long sleeves uniform, but Honey could see the long fingernails pricking her pale skin “Get out of Stray Kids” she demanded with a hoarse voice, accusatory. “You are fat and a whore, how could you think you can approach boys like that?” “W-What?” the pen propped stiffly in her hand dropped, as the gush of words came out from the other girl. “What’s the point of being pretty? We already have Hyunjin, you can’t even dance properly. Also, Jeongin was mine before you appeared” she hissed, moving towards Honey with a frightful look. Hwamin likes to think everyone has their own beauty. Deep inside, even the worst villains you could think might have a charm, something good. But, bright people also have their obscurity. Hwamin never spoke up to anyone unless she was joking around and the very rare times she got mad, she would lock herself in her room, until all those bad intentions were gone. However, a fury boiled in her with the saying of the tiny girl. “I’m sorry. But, firstly… Hyunjin isn’t a beautiful face. He is an immensely talented and kindhearted person. There’s no such thing as a beautiful face in our group, we are all truly capable of everything” she boomed, standing on her feet “Besides, Jeongin isn’t an object and no one owns him. Watch yourself before talking about people you don’t know, even more, if they are my friends… Furthermore-” a thunderous sound came from the class’ door, scaring both girls. “Hwamin” Jeongin wailed, running to Honey and taking her by her arm “Come here” he ran out of the class, the girl following him with struggle, trying to match their steps. They reached the school’s backyard, deepening, even more, their route, as they found a place outside the crowd of students “What was that, Nini? I was in a very one-sided argument, which I was surely winning” babbled the tawny-haired girl, stuffing her chest proudly. However, before she could proceed with her rant about how Jeongin should let her continue the little argument with the one she claimed a petty little girl, she felt a stiff but undoubtedly affectionate hug involving her "Jeonginie? What are you doing?“ her hands travelled to the boy’s back, dearly. “I w-was there the whole time, yet… I couldn’t protect you because I was so scared she might hurt you” he sobbed, snuggling his face against Hwamin “Just like before, I’m was too coward to p-protect you” Rubbing his back tenderly, Hwamin cupped the taller’s face in her hands, squeezing his cheeks “You are not a coward” she shushed him before he could ramble “You are the bravest kid I know, also you have the sweetest heart ever and could never hurt someone’s feelings, that’s why you remain quiet. Moreover, I’m able to protect myself and my boys at the same, I am a hero, aren’t I?” he nodded, glossy eyes and glistening streams of tears. Hwamin wiped off with the back of her sleeve, smooching his forehead gingerly. “I will grow to protect you someday, Minmin” “Mayhaps you will very soon, peanuts” she wrapped strands of his hair around her finger “Can we eat our sandwiches now? I’m starving” “Oh, I dropped them!”

Seungmin was uncomfortable. Counting with the fan standing in front of him, Hwamin was ignored three times in a row. Usually, it didn’t happen in fansigns. But ever since rumours started to appear about her, those unpleasant incidents became quite often. “Pardon me…” Seungmin tried to search for words, the fan looking at him with curiosity “I was wondering why are you skipping Honey?” “Oh” the girl answered nonchalantly, blushing red at his attention to her “I don’t like bullies” something boiled in Seungmin, his ears getting red from the sudden anger “I think…” he tried to maintain his composure “Bullies are the one who spread rumours about those they don’t know. And it’s even worse when you believe them” “Honey is a precious piece of our team. And I would appreciate very much if you start to spread true stories within our fanbase” he continued caustic, the girl now turning into a stuttering mess before leaving, flustered and all.

Later that day, Seungmin found Honey beaming, running around and humming. She used to be always like that, but the rumours got her to become quiet. Seeing her enjoying herself, clicked something in his mind "What about this repulsive behavior?“ he chuckled. "Nothing, it’s just something I found…” Seungmin ruffled her hair, leading the latter to giggles playfully “Don’t let rumours hurt you” “I did not!” “Yeah, yeah…”

Honey was swinging her legs in the air while she played on her phone, but a playful voice took her attention “Honie” she felt an extra weight on her improvised bed (lots of blankets placed on the floor of the waiting room) A filthy rumour started to spread on the internet, claiming that Honey bully the boys, mostly due to her pranks and jokes within the group. She usually talked down with them in variety shows, which was totally approved by the boys, they thought it was so entertaining. But, their new fans usually couldn’t get it as a joke, leading to rumours being spread. They were recommended to ignore, however, the boys could never really let that be. Jisung approached Hwamin gingerly, knowing how much the girl hated others worrying about her. “Hannie” she chirped, clinging onto him instantly “Where are the others?” “They went to the convenience store” he took the girl’s hand with his, caressing it with his thumb “But I told them you want a cheese stick” “Oh, you know me so well, Hanie” she beamed, teasingly. Jisung and Hwamin are known as a comedic duo, two dorks always joking and messing around. But, there are hours when they would just stare at each other, as their own special talk. “You look like a silly donkey” she jeered, joking. “And you are a dwarf rabbit” “That’s not even a thing, besides… You are not that much taller” “I still taller than you” “Congratulations at being the tallest dwarf” she rolled her eyes, punching Jisung slightly. “Yah!” His hands went to the side of her tummy, tickling the girl and pinning her carefully. Honey gasped, trying to get off from his torture “I’m w-warning you, Han Jisung” she stuttered, giggling. “I’m older, you can’t talk to me like that!” Jisung reminded her, although he was laughing just as much as the girl “I like when you are laughing as you mean to” “Uh?” “You are the kindest person I have ever met, Honie” the older squeezed her cheeks until she groaned of annoyance. Although she had a grin adorning her face.

“Hyunjin, can you stay behind Honey? They are saying that some creepy are taking pictures laying on the floor, and Hwamin is wearing a skirt today. Also, I have to take care of Jeonginnie, he isn’t feeling well” Chan whispered to Hyunjin at once, as the others rushed out of the car. Hyunjin nodded, taking his suitcase from their manager as he waited for Honey to get out. Honey had a patterned skirt embracing her figure, the scalding weather leading her to wear more of her little pieces of cloth, as Hyunjin liked to call it. “Hey” she glimpsed at him, sticking out her tongue playfully almost than instantly “Brat” Hyunjin flicked her forehead, waiting for the boys to line up, managers keeping their sides along with bodyguards. There was a huge crowd, both their fans and freaks, the latter just waiting to shoot every step of them. “I have never ever seen so many people in an airport” Honey quavered, trying to look unbothered. She hated those mini events because, although she could interact with their lovely fans, sometimes things went wrong. She never feared ghosts or spooky things, what genuinely makes her panic is pretty much every man with a camera, they all looked like stalkers to her. “Be careful” Hyunjin warned, almost reaching Honey’s hand. But he knew she would probably punch him right on his nose. However, the girl never heard him, and she really wanted to show something to Jisung, who was walking quite far from her "Don’t wanna” she sang in her mischievous tone, running playfully away from him. Then, everything happened like a shot. Flashes caught Honey unwarned and muffled screamings that got clear to her after a while. 

“You are looking like a pig” “Jerk your hips, Honey” “Piggy thighs”

Honey felt an abrupt grip on her arm and before she could slap the soul out of the moron who dared to touch her, she recognized Hyunjin’s voice “I told to stay with me” he seemed pissed off in so many ways that Honey almost apologized “I’ll buy you ice cream if you hold my hand in a not disgusting way" Honey intertwined their pinky fingers, glossy eyes from the sudden overwhelming feeling, not even noticing the taller's face boiling crimson, being both flustered and pissed. He hated when those freaks ended letting Hwamin gloomy. 

"Dummy” “Shortie”.

Nesting herself in a pile of silk blankets, Hwamin could feel as her lips started to bruise, biting them roughly so she could hold her will to burst in tears. It’s had been an awful day. She couldn’t keep herself from reading all the mean comments towards her, even though they became quite unusual nowadays. Perhaps, for hiding her bad feelings deep inside, everything now seemed like a trigger. 

The boys were all gone. Honey recorded her lines before everyone so she could have her own little moment. Promising she would never cry in front of any member, Minho being her only exception.

“Honey?” a soothing voice called her, leading the girl to quickly wipe her tears away. But she still had tousled hair and puffy eyes. Causing Hwamin to hide her face, rubbing herself against the blankets, as she heard a cracking sound “Are you here?” he popped through the door, looking for the switch “Look what I found” his voice was almost a chirping sound, he seemed so bubbly that the girl snuggles herself even more in her duvets. 

“I’m not here” came from a muffled sound. “Yes, you are” he sat on the edge of her bed “What happened?” Then, he heard sobs and his world crashed down. Hwamin was quivering slightly, as he could see by his poor lighted sight “H-Hwamin?” Felix turned the girl around promptly, just to find her puffy eyes filled with plump tears “Tell me what happened!” he could feel his heart pounding against his rib cages violently and he embraced the girl with his arm, stiffly placing her on his lap. “Why are they so mean?” the older didn’t have to hear further, squeezing her even further. “I got you, I’m here, you are safe with me” he whispered, placing a soft smoochie on the top of her head.

#10th member of stray kids #stray kids 10th member #stray kids imagines #stray kids #skz imagines #kpop additions

[dreamstormdragon]

Puppy, lion, and donkey for the ask game?

Puppy -  Do you prefer writing with pen and paper or online?

Typing for sure, it’s easier for me, since my handwriting isn’t good.

Lion - Where do you like to write?

 In my comfy arm chair, with my throw blanket. :) I like to be cozy while I write. 

Donkey - Who’s your biggest writing idol?

My biggest writing idol, is the author who made me realize I wanted to be an author too. Neal Shusterman, the author of Unwind, Dry, Everlost and many other wonderful novels. I first read Unwind when I was 14 and I had been writing since I was 11 by that point but never very seriously with story telling, it was pure hobby stuff and honestly not very good... but after I saw the way Unwind was written, the way the concept was portrayed... It just awakened something in me, you know? That was my pivotal moment. I reread that book to the point where my first copy split in two actually from how often it was flipped through. I idolized him and wanted to be just like him from that point onward. 

I was very lucky to have been able to meet him back in 2015, when he was doing his tour for Challenger Deep and it was honestly, one of the most magical nights of my life. I was sitting in front, with a bunch of other fans prior to him arriving at the bookstore, talking, reading out passages from our favorite books, a few of them had been to several signings already and wanted to ask him about theories (which he LOVED hearing those) and assured me, he was really nice.

He was seriously super nice. I got to take a picture with him and he signed three of my books (Tesla’s Attic, Challenger Deep and a new copy of Unwind since my first one was too frail to make the trip.) I got to tell him, how much his books meant to me and how grateful I was for the inspiration he gave me to become an author. He was really surprised to hear that actually. 

Now that I have my own published book, I do wanna write him some time and let him know, that the bald girl from that signing is now an author too.

This got a little rambly sorry, but that’s how it happened. 

[notwiththoseteeth]

P A R T  I I

C a s a n o v a

I: Roger Taylor x Reader

Part I

Word Count: 1,913

Warnings: Some mentions of sex but all is good, swearing

I actually made a part two. Genuinely proud of myself. I hope you all enjoyed the last chapter, even though it seemed relatively short. I wanna add some more in this chapter since I’ve been overloading with ideas, please enjoy!

A/N: When italics are mixed in with normal lettering, that means it’s muffled speech. Or thoughts. You’ll work it out.

Currently on, ‘Casanova’:

“And then I said, ‘you’re not getting that donkey anywhere near me!’”

“Darling, we haven’t got a pool.” Freddie pointed out, but still being amused from your crazy antics.

“Fuck pools Freddie!!” You shouted, climbing atop the couch with yet another drink in your hand. “PoOls, are for LoSERs!”

:::::::::::::

“(Y/N)! You’ll never believe–”

“FUCK OFF–Oh it’s Freddie.”

“I haven’t heard those words in a very long time…”

“What? ‘Fuck off?’”

“No, I hear enough of that from Roger,” giving you one of those, ‘bitch-you-don’t-even-know’ looks. “speaking of which– you didn’t have the chance to meet him last night, probably banging it out with another groupie.”

“He seems lovely.” You deadpanned, still trying to ignore the headache.

“This is where he had the sex by the way…” noticing the lingering scent of meshed bodies.

“Freddie you piece of–”

                                                   :::::::::::::

“Morning you two,” Brian greeted.

“Does everyone crash here, or is it just a casual thing? And oh my God, I swear this place was trashed what the hell happened?”

It was very surprising, considering the amount of people that attended the party last night.

“It’s just a casual thing, and you should ask Freddie about that. He has this team of cleaners that are miracles with parties like this.”

“I’m down for more of this…what’s the word…”

“It’s hard to explain, I know.”

“I mean all of the parties I’ve been to have never compared to this, and that’s saying something.”

Brian chuckled, you rolled your eyes at yourself, and he hands you a cup of coffee, mumbling a quick ‘Thank you’.

“Oh! So you do party! I thought you were another one of those really boring fans who lie about going to parties and other shit like that,” he scoffed at his own comment, but you didn’t notice.

“Me? Boring?” Pretending to be surprised, but knowing that it was probably the first impression you’d got out of people who tried to converse with you.

I mean once, a person asked you if it was your first time at a party. So you spilled perfectly good wine onto them. It was worth it though.

It was just your vibe.

Innocent and secluded.

And to be honest, it was getting boring.

“You never let me finish my sentence—“

“Oh sorry,”

“Ah! See what I mean?” Rolling his eyes, Freddie rambled on. “What I meant to say is that I thought you were one those kinds of people until I read the lyrics you’d brought last night. They were stunning, and I was wondering if you could help us by using one of your songs to be part of our new album!”

You were about to say, “Freddie I never agreed to that” when suddenly,

“Freddie, you never told me about this.”

Came out instead.

More manlier too…

All three of you flicked your heads around to see who it was.

Roger Taylor .

It of course, had to be Roger freakin’ Taylor. Drink in hand and leaning against the wall wearing a pair of sunglasses despite the cloudy weather.

“Ah, Roger. Finally come to join us now?”

“Yeah, and who’s this?” Pointing at you lazily. “Another bitch?”

“Go fuck yourself asshole.” You spoke up, leaving your coffee and heading back to the fluffy pillows in that elegant room which you had started to call, ‘My room’ despite it clearly saying ‘Delilah’s Room’”—whoever the hell she was— on the door.

Brian in return snorted and sighed. Roger still being pissed and Freddie being Freddie, gulped down two shots of tequila and lit himself a smoke.

                                                  :::::::::::::

“Who is she Freddie?” Roger asked, still leaning on the doorframe.

“Why should I tell you? If you were here last night you would’ve known.”

“I was here last night! Just…in a different part of the house.”

“The worst excuse,” taking a puff of his smoke. “fine. You know what, I’ll tell you. It’s the fifth fucking time I’ve had to tell you whatever the hell’s happening because you’re out drinking or…keeping your mind away from…Brian what was her name again?”

“Elise.”

“Right, Elise–”

“Shut up Fred. You honestly don’t know what I’ve been going through.”

“What you’ve been going through is denial. You loved her Rog.” Brian responded

“Brian, he’s in denial, you’re not supposed to approach it like that, watch me.”

“Oh fuck off Freddie.”

“Okay,” before he began, he took the extra precaution to clear his throat. “Roger, stop fucking women. Elise is never gonna come back at that rate.” He ended it with a soft tone and a smile, which just pushed Roger past his point.

“Freddie you’re a piece of shit! You’re supposed to answer a simple question as, ‘Who is she’!”

Brian stepped in between them to stop them fighting, and was also yelling at them to shut up.

“Morning everyone..?” It was Deacy.

“Deacy, tell him he’s being an idiot will you?” Freddie shouted.

“You should be telling him! The one who just wouldn’t answer a simple question!”

Deacy raised his arms up, made some sort of , ‘guys-I-literally-don’t-know-what-to-say’ face, and shuffled (groovily) towards the coffee machine.

“Fine! I’ll just go record with (Y/n)! By. My. Self.”

“Fine by me! You can play your own fucking drums.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“I’m having the last word here Fred.”

“Fine.”

“Jesus, are you two done?” Brian interrupted.

“I said I was going to have the last word, so I’m having the last word.”

“Whatever floats your—“

“FREDDIE MERCURY I SWEAR TO—“

                                               :::::::::::::

“I feel like this part is missing something…” Freddie suggested.

It was the first time you had recorded an album. You realised that he mentioned working with you, but you didn’t think it to be the day after.

“Hmm, maybe some more of Deacy’s bass.” You suggested

“We’ll try it– John, can you listen to this and try match some more of your bass to it?”

He’d already had the headphones on and listened to it a couple of times. Readying his pick, he started playing a short but fast bass line.  Repeating it a couple of times and eventually sticking with it.

You hadn’t noticed the rustling behind you, because you focused deeply with the empty feeling in the song.

As if on cue, you heard a light drumming in the distance. It was Roger, smirking at you behind his kit. Goddamn he looked so sexy. Nope, nope, not today! Innocent thoughts (Y/n), innocent thoughts. Giving your cheeks light slaps (to knock some sense back into yourself), you swiftly turned back to John trying to cover the clear blush on your face.

To your terror, Roger had stopped drumming and made his way over to you. He leaned down to meet your ear and huskily whispered, “You alright there (Y/N)? You seem a bit red…” His arms were rubbing against your shoulders, and you couldn’t help but squeal internally. On the outside, you were sweating, you wanted so badly to push him down and just show him where he belonged, but you couldn’t. He was in control.

“Oi! You two! Stop having verbal sex! It’s disgusting!” Thank God for Brian, if not you would’ve creamed your panties right there.

“We’ll be right out Brian…” Roger replied. You could still feel his eyes on your back, and honestly killing you.

“Yup, sorry…”

Rushing to the door, you passed the still Roger. The best thing to do right now was sleep, after all, it was a long day. So heading back to your room, you opened the door.

You did not expect a cat to be lying on the bed.

Is this a metaphor brain?! Is Roger the cat?! Do I want Roger that much??!

“Ah darling! I see you’ve met Delilah!”

You hadn’t seen Freddie enter the room, but he explained it all right there.

“You see Delilah here–oh you adorable angel, come over here–is one of the many cats I have-sorry, children. I meant to say children.”

“You have cats?”

“Oh dear…you might be as blind as Roger.”

“Don’t…don’t compare me to Roger…”

“Well, I gave my cats these rooms because as I’ve mentioned before, they are my children.”

“From the two days of knowing you in person, I’ve learnt to not question you.”

“And from the two days of knowing YOU!” He exclaimed, taking his pointer finger and shoving it lightly onto your shoulder. “I’ve learnt that someone has taken an interest in you.”

“Roger Taylor is not interested in me. He’s only out for my virginity.”

You both chuckle at the joke.

“You’re a virgin?”

“That’s besides the point–it’s just clearly obvious, that he’s not interested in me, and plus he’s not my kind of guy.”

Freddie put a hand on top of yours, giving you a slight nod,

“Baby blue eyes and long blonde hair, he’s not your type, but he sure is mine.”

You both couldn’t help yourselves–laughing like babies.

“But even with his lack of any consideration…I’ve become attracted to him…”

“Look (Y/n), Roger Taylor... has this way with women. Darling, I’d be surprised if you weren’t attracted to him.”

“I just hate it.”

“Ah, I know what you mean. Like you have this feeling, but your conscience is telling you differently.”

“Exactly.”

There was a really short silence. In those moments, you’d realised that this attraction had grown a billion times bigger ever since he whispered to you in the recording booth.

“And the worst part is, I’ve only known him for a couple of hours!”

“Look darling, it’s late and you should be really getting some sleep. Just stay another night. We’ll be recording tomorrow anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You gave him a hug. You’d never met anyone so kind in your life. You couldn’t believe what you were getting into. Though you did want to wake up again to fluffy pillows and coffee you didn’t have to make yourself. (If that was going to happen again.)

“Good night Mr. Mercury.” You said, yawning and giving him a small smile, before he too said good night back, and closed the door.

When you spend time with a man who has the personality of at least five people, you feel surrounded in a comfortable space. But when he leaves, you feel an emptiness. But there’s also this feeling, like he’s hiding something.  

But at least you had Delilah.

                                              :::::::::::::

It was another day of recording.

You had gotten used to waking up with hairballs and fluff every time you took a nap. You’d just used the excuse that she was a cat, and didn’t know what she was doing.

Despite the little mess you had with Roger the day before, he acted as if nothing had happened. You had small conversations with him, but he became soft when he spoke to you. More gentleman-like. You realised that this was bound to happen. He’d tried to get lucky with you, and failed. Roger would’ve known when to stop. But you didn’t know him. You didn’t know that he was planning something bigger. You also didn’t know that he passed by Delilah’s room while you were talking with Freddie.

“Right! We’ll just have to record the last verse and then we’re done!”

It was tiring. You’d never thought about it so much but for singing and playing instruments for one day…things could get really spastic.  

“Oh by the way (Y/n),”

“Yeah?” turning your head round

“You haven’t given me a title yet.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes really.”

“Well, you should name it. I am the one who crashed into your limo.”

“One, you did not crash into my limo. The driver–which I fired by the way– ran a red light.”

“And two?”

“Two, you should call it Casanova. It seems to be the feel of this whole song am I not wrong?”

“You’re never wrong Freddie.”

                                             :::::::::::::

Yes! Second chapter done. I’m really getting into reader and Freddie’s relationship. I hope you liked this chapter! And the tag list is still open so y’all can just ask. See ya!

#roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #ben hardy #freddie mercury x reader #freddie mercury #rami malek #brian may #gwilym lee #john deacon #joe mazzello #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #queen fandom #bohemian rhapsody fandom #fanfiction #fluff #roger taylor fanfic

[sanctum-of-fantasy]

14&17 from fluff for Manigoldo and Kardia~ I bet you gonna rock this one!

@alpha-cepheii Kardia and Manigoldo in the same place together, on a mission…what could possibly go wrong? I’ve also combined the two prompts into one.

14. “How did you fail a survey?” 

17. “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe i would.”

The grin that Kardia gave him could only be described as absoluteshit eating and honestly, he almost wanted to pinch his cheeks until thatgrin went away. It was enough to tick him off enough he felt his fingerstwitch.

The Scorpio Saint chuckled and kicked their inn room’s doorshut, dropping a sack by the foot of his bed and falling back in the bed withhis arms behind his head “I bullshitted my responses just to mess with them?”

“Oh now this I have to hear” Manigoldo snorted and leanedforward. The idea of Kardia messingsome civilians head by rambling off some nonsense was just too funny. Somehow,he seriously wondered what went through his old man’s mind when Athena decidedto send them both away on this mission.

Receiving a supposedly cursed artifact, maybe that wassomething he could deal with as Cancer Saint. But bringing a fight happy punk?Sasha must have expected them to run into trouble.

Well…if there was trouble, it was more likely like that theywere the cause.

“They were talking about some sort of occupation collecting?At first I was gonna say ‘can’t help you friend I’m just passing through’ thenI thought ‘wait…I’m not from around here let me see how they react” Kardiasaid, snickering as he recalled his encounter.

“And what did you tell them?” Manigoldo questioned.

“I told them I was an ass lifter” Kardia replied causingManigoldo break out in laughter and slap his knee, “Pretty funny right? They lookedat each other and one said he didn’t know theyhad donkeys here, I told them it’s because I’m always carrying them somewhere.”

“Oh holyshit and what they do after that?”

“They went with it and asked exactly what a donkey lifter does.And I say “Lads I lift them over hills and get them off trees” and at that pointI think they might have figured out I messing them” Kardia continued. Rubbing hisnose and still grinning.

“No shit, a donkey in a tree?” Manigoldo tried to picturethat image in his mind.

“Hey if there’s a rabbit on the moon and a horseman in thesky, why not?” Kardia shrugged and sat up, reaching into the sack by his bedand grabbing an apple. Using his telekinesis Manigoldo shot the apple from hishand before he bit into it.

“Don’t ruin your appetite on snacks, we’ve got work soon” Manigoldosaid as Kardia shot him a look. There was time for fun and messing with peoplebut eventually they did have to get to their mission and that required a certainamount of focus. Last thing Manigoldo wanted was for either them to make thingsmore complicated and draw eyes to them.

Kardia made a sound akin to whining but rolled off his bedand stretched, “Yeah yeah; find the vase, grab it and get out of there beforesome one gets their underwear in a twist.”

Manigoldo shook his head and grabbed the other Saint by theface making him focus into his eyes, “Don’t forget there will be better food and booze at the party.”  That seemed to give the Scorpio something tothink on for a few moments before he grinned and wrapped his arms around Manigoldo’sshoulders, “Oh now that sounds like seductionto me.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means” Manigoldosnorted and patted the other on the back before he pulled away, so they couldboth get ready.

“Smartass I knowplenty of things!”

**

Getting into the party was the easy part, who could deny twowell dressed gentlemen such as them? Even if Kardia had argued about keepinghis scarf on (“Its makes me more dashing” he said as Manigoldo rolled his eyes)and put up a fight when he decided that his long, mess of hair would seem outof place and needed to be braided back.

The party was like they predicted as well, a ballroom fullof stuffy headed civilians that had no idea there was a cursed object in the mansionor that there were two Saints here to receive it. And with they both decided toenjoy themselves a bit before they left and returned to the day-to-day life inSanctuary.  Which meant dinning, drinkingand dancing to their hearts content while they took turns quietly sneaking awayfrom the crowd and looking for their prize.

It was Kardia that had found out, raising it above his head bythe railing of the second floor, how no one saw that Manigoldo had no idea andwas glad for that. He had tried to break away from his dance partner at the moment,but it didn’t go as easy as he wanted it too.

It ended with a glass against his head and him jumping out awindow, Kardia right behind him as they sprinted into the woods nearby.

“Oh, fuck me” Manigoldogroaned, holding a hand against his head and leaning against a tree. The glassdidn’t hurt per say he had felt worse, it was him realizing that he was goingto have one hell of a hangover in the morning.

Beside him Kardia snorted and grinned over at him, “Yeah, well, if you weren’t so drunk maybe Iwould.”

He laughed shortly, still moving hand through his hair as hechecked for glass or cuts, “What? You could you can handle this?” he said,gesturing down to the rest of his body. Kardia whistled and replied with “Oh Idefinitely could, only live once right? But I’d prefer it if you weren’t drunkand literally smashed.”

He laughed and leaned away from the tree, stumbling slightlybefore Kardia caught him and wrapped an arm around his hip, vase held over hisshoulder with his other arm, “Maybe one day huh? Come on let’s get out of herebefore the dogs find us.”

“By all means, lead on wisecrab” Kardia shorted and they laughed, leaving behind the party and headingback to their inn for one last night of sleep. Oddly enough, when Manigoldowoke up, the small cuts on his forehead had been bandaged up.

#saint seiya #cancer manigoldo #Scorpio kardia #the lost canvas #saint seiya fanfic #anony posts #anony's writing #I swear Sage aged like a hundred years while these two are together on a mission #A number change was done so the second prompt was switched just a heads up

[whosxafraid]

Married life. Us. I FUCKING dare you, Gowl.

Meme: Married Life Meme Status: CLOSED

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Adrenaline. Some people call it the super man effect. Mother’s lifting cars off their children. Soldiers taking impossible amounts of damage and not going down until their done. And that’s not too far off from what’s going on now is it? Bullets flying, spitting off walls and near misses off helmets. But that hold he’s got on the other man’s body armor. It’s not going to waiver. So it doesn’t. And eventually House finds them cover. 

And then it’s all a different kind of chaos. Trying to scrounge up make shift bandaging and thank Christ one of the med bags made it. Peej yelling orders. Telling him where to hold and how hard to press. And it’s all hyper awareness. Because he can feel the blood pouring out around the gauze. Feel nails biting through his sleeve because that shit hurts. 

And it’s only later when the fire fight calms because the suns gone down, that he really notices. That they’re all missing some part of their uniform. Because they’d all give it all up, if it meant they all got to come home, breathing.

forgets to run the dish washer

Day three. 

It’s all starting to blur together. They take things in shifts. One sleeps the others are up. Watching the outside. Making sure the other one doesn’t die on them. At least not without anyone knowing. Remnants of MREs sprinkled throughout. None of them have really eaten a full meal since this shit storm started. 

He shifts a bit. Checks that their leading man hasn’t checked out on them. He’s good. Breathing. Half Pint says Boss will make it. If they can get out of this hell hole. 

Banks relieves him. And he’s up again. Moving through their make shift fox hole. Nudging the Peej with his foot to get up. It’s Luka’s turn for some shut eye.

        I could destroy a burger right now, you feeling me?

          “Aye.”

A pause because there’s a part of him that’s afraid they won’t ever be able to argue again about the proper way to grill one. But he keeps that to himself. A half cocked smile as he pulls his helmet down a bit to try and block out the sun.

          “Ta triple decker from B n’ B minute we ge’ back.”

pumps gas for the car

          I got us a way out but s’insane, G. 

And he listens to the pitch House tosses Gorilla, from his point by the window. There’s a humvee with a bed, that looks intact about three klicks out. No motion since sun down. It’s risky as shit. Stupid to even attempt it. But they arent’ going to get evac’d sitting here like ducks in a barrel that’s quickly losing its ability to stay upright. 

              House that’s fuckin’ worse than insa—

       “Oi’ll go.”

The stagnate air in the room gets heavier by degrees. 

             O’Ri–

        “Oi’ can make i’. House up top coverin’ me. Oi’can make i’.”

              Not without me, fucktard. It’s three clicks out and you’ll need someone carrying your ass back, so I’m going to

A brief glance at the other Irishman. He’s not wrong. What with the fact of who he spends most his down time with, that wee fucker with magic fingers when it comes to making things work that don’t have the mind. Some of that’s worn off, Luka’s seen it in action. And there’s another few beats of silence but eventually..

Damnit. Fine go. House take Banks. You two cover these idiots.

Roger that.

drives when they’re going somewhere

Chaos. It’s what he was trained for. What they all were. And it’s damn clock work in the middle of a war zone that might just be worse than Uganda. And they don’t talk about Uganda. 

            South!

            “RIGH’ ER LEF’ OI’ NO GO’ TOI’ME TA BE CHE—”

           RIGHT!

And there’s a turn that’s almost too sharp for the Humvee to handle. He can feel it start to tilt up on one side–but just when he thinks its going to clear the point of no return it levels back out again. And they speed away down the dirt road. Gun fire pinging in a symphony of clinks and clanks. That’s answered because Banks never does know when to quit. And it’s minutes before House dares…

          We good?

A choir of tired yeses. But they’re alive. And so is their downed team leader. But more than anything? That heavy hand on his shoulder that’s squeezes with all it’s might for a few solid seconds, feels good. At least until it pulls away to come back as a fist.

          Next time, I’m driving, fucker.

rearranges the furniture

It’s amazing how quick the stench can set in. The way it gets into your clothes. Into your skin. Until you nearly scrub your skin off later, and you could swear it’s still there. But right now—right now they’ve got to find what they’re looking for. No one gets left behind. 

           Needle in hay stack.

For once he doesn’t make a come back. Just keeps searching faces. One right after the other. Body after body. And there’s a twisting in his gut with each one. Wanting it to be over and yet hoping House isn’t here at all. Because if he isn’t here…

Ping!

           Contact ten o’clock!

They split behind opposite pillars. Silent communication on how they’re going to get out of this one. Not that they ever get the chance because there’s laughter that sounds more like relief than amusement.

You assholes need to keep a better eye on your sixes.

And there the little fucker is. Jumping down from a hole in the roof. Gesturing towards the enemy that had been hiding among the dead.

Like he said. They don’t talk about Uganda.

falls asleep with the TV on

What does he do when it’s two hundred hours, at the bottom of the pacific and he can’t sleep? He watches videos he’s hoarded on his phone that’s what. Earbuds stuck firmly in. Trying to keep the amusement to himself, as she dances into the camera frame for the billionth time. Looking like a wee fair folk, twirling around his little brother that bless him as no rhythm at all.

But before he knows it…it’s three hundred hours, and he’s drifted off to sleep. Listening to her ramble about work, and the mouse Houdini caught in the kitchen. And it’s all just as well. Because it allows for someone else to pick it up. Slide the ear buds away that have fallen loose. And he’ll never know how his phone ended up back where it should be. He’ll never know the message from home meant for him, made someone else feel not quite so lonely. 

But what he doesn’t know what hurt him. At least not until later, when the teasing starts because his mother had sent over a box of old things. And Beth had spotted the sock donkey. And of course had to wonder allowed what his name was.

gets to use the bathroom first

Thirty-one hours awake and counting. That concrete slab of a cot is going to feel like goose down by the time he gets to it. But for now he lets the scalding water run. Washing off…well everything. Hands flat against the tile. Lets his mind slip elsewhere. Pretends for just a minute there’s humming in the next room that he can just make out of the water flow. Pretends he can smell coconuts and cinnamon. Pretends there’s a cat trying to get to his jeans from underneath the door. Pretends a lot of things. Until–

The door on the showers bangs open, and shatters it all. Riley saddling up a few shower heads away. And there’s only a minimal change to his otherwise blank expression before he’s speaking up. Never once moving in the process.

“Next one down less ye wanna be foi’ghtin’ wi’d water pressure.”

A pause but the Peej moves up one, because there’s no real trust outside of uniform with them. Predictable really. And Luka shuts off the water. Towels off. Makes a kilt out of it and shuffles off towards the lockers without a word. Though the satisfying yell and subsquent cursing is only just so satisfying.

He owes House a fifty but it was worth it; because nothing beats an ice cold mountain dew shower to round of your thirty-two hour day.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

As conditioned as he is…he can’t say he likes the cold. It’s a case of being able to put up with it, verses enjoying it. So maybe he feels just a little bit sorry for the Peej turned SEAL when they end up catching a beat on a whale. Feels a little sympathy for the added layer the other dons during down time. Not that he’ll say anything. Because that just wasn’t what you did.

Though when one of the heaters starts fritzing mid-cruise, sure he tosses over a few pointers. A few try this, because they last thing they need is their medic ending up in the medbay because his fingers froze stiff. Plus he doesn’t really want to listen to the sermon he’ll get when he gets home. Not that he’d blame her for it. Because he wouldn’t. 

sets up holiday decorations

Date: December 24th.Location: ClassifiedDesignation: U.S.S. -redacted-

The off tune someone just shoot him already singing of House in the corner. It’s the only thing breaking the otherwise silence of the room. The TV’s been off for hours. The gaming system dead in the water. Everyone distracting themselves with whatever else they can find. 

Because they all love their job. Can’t dream of doing anything different and yet right then not a single one wants to be where they are. All of them thinking about snow and trees covered in lights and twenty years with of memories give or take a decade in some cases. Thinking about the Christmas dinners they’re going to miss, and the night caps they are right now. And maybe for a minute having to remind themselves they signed up for this. That its worth it in the end. And there’s always next Christmas.

But then suddenly—

        ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO MEE-EE-EE

A symphony of on key, perfectly timed responses: SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP, HOUSE!

leaves the lights on

Actual quiet in the bunks. Everyone’s turned in. No sense in staying up. They’re running dark right now, so phones calls are a no go. And he lays there. Listening to House’s stuffy nosed snoring. Watching the little tree none of them even know where he got it, turn from red to green to gold to white and back again. And it’s almost soothing. Almost has him on the verge of drifting off when–

A shadow gets up from their bed across the room. Shuffles over. Reaches for it. And he’s throwing a hand out. Catching Riley by the wrist. A single shake of his head before pushing the other’s hand away.

          “Leave i’. Helps him sleep.”

There’s under toned griping he can’t make out, but the Peej leaves it be. Goes back to bed and almost begrudgingly turns over to face away from the blinking tree. Luka won’t call him on it. It makes him miss home more, too. Miss her, more. But there are just somethings you take for the team. And this one? He’ll take for House.

uses the bathroom with the door open

There are things that have to be held when you’re squished together like sardines in a can, in the back of a troop truck. Things that have to be willed through on account of pissing on your buddy’s boot, while considered talent at this angle, just isn’t worth the risk of getting it elsewhere too. So you hold it. Scrunch your toes inside your own boots and say seven hail mary’s in advance for the slew of relief cursing you’re going to be doing in a half hour.

And once you do manage to reach camp? It’s a bustle of fucking movement. You never make it to the head. And next thing you know your half way up a god forsaken mountain in bumble fuck egypt when you literally can’t fucking can anymore. And you’re practically skipping off for the biggest tree you can find to let it all go.

You’ll never live it down. You know that. But this isn’t California or bust. And they can wait the few seconds it takes to water the locals and get back on track.

           Tol’ ye no’ ta—

          “Shut up, fucktard.”

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

        “Oi’m tellin’ ye, ye go’ ta pu’ t—”

            You wanna come down here and do this? No? Then stop speaking.

They’ve been at it for an hour and a half now. It can’t be this complicated to fix a leak. Well it can but neither of them exactly went to vocational school to spend their days underneath sinks.

       “Chroi’st arse jus’ call ye boyfriend.”

            No.

It’s pride. He gets it. But still it’s ridiculous. And he’s this close to calling the wee lad himself when–there’s a dull ping and a thud and—

           TURN OFF THE FUCKIN’ WATER!! TURN IT OFF!

A short lived scurry to do just that. Though by the time he’s managed it there’s already a good sized puddle of water all over the kitchen floor and Riley coming out of the cabinet. Soaked down his front and angrier than a can of bees shaken.

            Hand me my phone.

#tarnishedhalo #[sorry about the last one's dialogue...i tried t_t] #half a pint of irish || andrew riley #Irish Tempers And Whiskey Smiles || Andrew and Luka #traveling soldier || military au [ closed ] #return to sender || answered asks #[long post]

[a-lily-briscoe]

CTM CS 2017 Thoughts (aka me getting on my soapbox for a lil bit about all things plot- and character-development-related, regarding all storylines, relationships, and sexualities)

Hi loves -

I know there are lots of opinions on the Christmas Special floating around the wonderful world of tumblr, and I respect all of them, and I’d like to add mine to the mix. They are quite long, as you’ll probably notice. Feel free to agree, disagree, or ignore them completely!

First off, my general impression: it was a lovely episode, but with a little less substance than usual. I think they tried to do too much in one ep, and I didn’t feel as connected to the individual storylines of Linda and Mabel - however heartbreaking and impactful they may have been at certain parts. Also, we’ve seen the Christmas-pageant-gone-to-ruins-and-miraculously-resurrected plot one too many times, I believe, and though the final part of the episode was fun, I felt there was a missed opportunity to do something a little different.

Regarding Linda’s story, I thought Vanessa Kirby did a fantastic job displaying the rollercoaster of emotions that that birth involved - both before and after the baby was born. I’m really excited to see what’s in store for Val this season - as we still haven’t learned what her secret is (my guess is she might have had an abortion or a baby out of wedlock that she had to give up, but that’s just wild speculation), and I think Vanessa will do wonderfully well with whatever Heidi gives her. The actress playing Linda was also brilliant, and I had a huge lump in my throat during the whole stillbirth process. I absolutely lost it when the baby started crying in Val’s bag. It was well done for the most part, but as I mentioned before, it was a little difficult to get as invested in Linda’s character because the episode seemed so all over the place in terms of focusing on the recurring characters’ personal lives and rescuing the ill-fated Christmas fête. 

Mabel’s plot also somewhat fell victim to this phenomenon, and I wasn’t particularly convinced that Sister J’s handling of the situation was the right thing. Let me preface this by saying that, thankfully, I have never experienced physical or emotional abuse, and I have never been in a situation of support for someone who has, so I am no authority on how to be the best source of support to someone who has suffered something like Mabel and Anthea did. That being said, I found Sister J’s treatment of Anthea to be less than helpful, in that she pushed her to face the demons of her past with such immediacy in an already emotional time. While the reunion of mother and daughter was one that I was glad to see happen, it seemed like Sister J tried to push it on Anthea too soon, and her last remark about Anthea’s family seemed almost to guilt her into seeing her mother again. I don’t believe Anthea was given enough time to process the death of her father and the emotions that brought up again for her, and I think Sister J could have given her more of that time and not used guilt as a tactic to promote her own idea of what reconciliation looked like. As ever, though, I admire CTM’s willingness not to sugarcoat the horrors of domestic abuse and other all-too-common nightmares that people endure in their daily lives, especially in a culture that has become so inured to the existence and impact of sexual assault - something that is rightfully and courageously being challenged by so many people of all genders, and I hope will continue to be so.

The Turners were just a joy (other than Patrick being a bit of a shit who can’t do much without the women in his life). The kids are growing up beautifully, and watching Shelagh with Teddy was like a dream come true. (Watching Shelagh trying to get that girdle on, on the other hand, was a nightmare, but a raucously hilarious one. Laura Main deserves a BAFTA for those twenty seconds alone.)

As for Babs and Tom, I think they’re lovely together, and I just adored Babs’ little hat. She is such a gem. She spreads sunshine wherever she goes, and she makes a great vicar’s wife. Do I sometimes wish she’d branched out a bit and had some more single adventures? Sure I do. But she and Tom seem happy, and I’ll miss her terribly (if not him - I’ve always found him very blah personality-wise, if somewhat pleasant to look at) during her time away.

Trixie is a lovely Nonnatus stalwart, as always, but I fear Christopher is just another Tom - lovely face, but not much beyond handsomeness and chivalry. Am I happy that the female characters in this show are more nuanced than the male ones? Of course I am; that’s as it should be in a show about female power, strength, and love, and I’ve always considered it a point of pride that this show passes the Bechdel test with flying colors. Still, I wonder what this relationship adds to the series if it’s not an escape route for Helen, should she want to take time off - whether to care for her and Jack’s new adorable baby, or to do other projects. Additionally - and this may be overthinking it - I was a little concerned about how much Trix was talking about her own appearance relative to what she thought Christopher wanted. It called to mind the episode with Cathleen Baker, the gal with varicose veins, and I don’t want Trix to dissolve into self-consciousness like that when she’s always been a woman who’s found her looks a source of confidence and independence rather than the sole sign of her worth. That was just a knee-jerk thing in a couple of scenes, but I was happy she was such a great support for Val - as was Sister MJ (of whom I wish we could have seen a little more).

Phyllis Crane. God bless the woman. She was essential as always, and I loved her fingerless gloves. So comfy and stylin’. My snobby ass thought her cop adversary was a bit too much of a caricature, but I was glad to see she’s heading the rota/appointments - not to mention the Cubs - in as fine a fettle as she ever has. Fred and Reggie made for fantastic helpers (especially Reggie in his fabulous hat). Four for you, Phyllis; you go, Phyllis.

Now for the big one - the issue of the missing characters. I’d like to start with Sister Mary Cynthia, whom I missed dearly. With all the buzz about Emerald and Kate (which I’ll get to later, believe me - if you’ve made it this far, I applaud and thank you for dealing with my ramblings), I wasn’t sure if Bryony would be returning this season or if she’d moved onto other projects. For those who might not know, the BBC offers three-year contracts, so the end of the sixth series provided an opportunity for people to take other gigs if they wished to do so. Whether or not Sister MC will be back in this series, I would have liked to have heard a mention of her progress at Northfield, since Heidi and the other writers - not to mention Bryony herself - did such an incredible job of portraying her mental illness and giving that kind of visibility onscreen last season. I think it is important to give some sort of update on her recovery while recognizing that one never truly recovers from the scars that mental illness leaves, though much healing is possible.

In the same vein, we come to Pats and Deels. My darling, darling lesbians. Though I knew that both Emerald and Kate had moved on to other projects - and bully for them - it still came as a blow not to see them in the CS. As with Sister MC, there was a strange gap (not to mention that we haven’t heard hide nor hare from Chummy in donkey’s years), and I was truly disappointed that there was no mention made of where their characters had gone. However, I do not hold with the idea that CTM is being homophobic or participating in queer-baiting. As a queer woman who began watching this series as an unconsciously questioning high-schooler in 2013 - during series two when there was no whiff of gayness to be had - I recognize the value of this show beyond its representation of queer visibility; yet I also acknowledge that, when that visibility did appear, it was instrumental to my understanding of my own sexuality and my ability to come to terms with and to celebrate it as something beautiful, right, and true - even when people I love in my life may not have done so. (Never mind the fact that Emerald - in combination with Dana Scully - finally hit me over the head re my penchant for redheads with perfect skin, cut-glass cheekbones, and an appreciation for a well-tapered pair of slacks). 

Please take those rambling sentences to mean that, while I adored Pats’ and Deels’ onscreen relationship and will miss it terribly, the show communicates many messages beyond those sent by that relationship. This program offers beautifully told and righteously argued forms of social commentary, and above all, it is an ensemble show. There is no one central character or relationship, and the writers do their best to balance all of the storylines equally - regarding characters’ personal and professional lives. Would I have liked to have seen more than a kiss from Pats and Deels? Of course I would have, because I’m a deviant heathen who loves a little lady-lovin’ where I can get it. However, do I recognize that it was the 60s and that this show’s primary demographic is fairly geriatric, so representation had to be limited to a certain degree? Of course I do. I think both Pats and Deels were wonderful and nuanced characters - both together and apart - and the writers and actresses did a wonderful job in terms of queer visibility onscreen, even if they could have given us a bit more closure on where the characters had moved on to in the CS.

Which brings me to the question of Val as “the new gay one.” Do I think it would be fabulous if Val turned out to be gay? Absolutely I do. Everything is better when it’s gayer (though every form of relationship and sexuality is valid!). However, do I believe she’s a nuanced character in and of herself who provides an opportunity to bring more visibility of underrepresented forms of identity and background to the fore? Absolutely I do. I don’t feel that queer visibility is an obligation, a chore to be carried out and dispensed with once it’s filled its quota, or brought in just to fill a gap. It should be something that arises as organically as possible because it is something natural, something ever-present no matter the time period, and it should be represented in an honest, true, and - when possible - celebratory way. I do not think Val should simply “replace” the queer element in the show for the sake of filling a perceived void. I’m excited to see what happens with her character this season, irrespective of her sexual proclivities. I’m also excited to meet our new midwife, as she might provide a more regular perspective from a woman of color on the show and remind us of even more ways we can learn from our history and take action to ensure its darkest moments find no repetition in the light of today.

Okay - getting off my soapbox now. I had a lot of feelings about this episode, so thank you for listening (if you, by some miracle, made it down to the bottom, for which I adore you). Would love to hear your thoughts about any of this, and looking forward to seeing what pops up in the tag from all of you. Love to everyone, and excited for the rest of the series to come!

#call the midwife #ctm #call the midwife series 7 #ctm series 7 #patsy mount #delia busby #turnadette #shelagh turner #patrick turner #sister julienne #sister mary cynthia #valerie dyer #trixie franklin #barbara gilbert #pupcake #patsy x delia #call the midwife christmas special #ctm christmas special

[nescafes]

♔ Twilight Reborn Green ♔ Pinky Paradise review ♔

Seriously trying to debate with myself whether or not I should put money towards doing a proper APH England cosplay this year, lmk what your thoughts are!

So phew!!! It’s been donkeys since I ever actually wrote a review but I have the time this weekend to sit down and get it done so here we goooooo~! I hope you’ve all being doing amazingly well and I’m so sorry as of late that I havent been able to sit down properly and read through all my messages theres just a whole bunch of drama going on in personal life that is draaaaaaaining me and taking up a lot of my concentration but I’ll try and get back to people this weekend! Thank you so much for being so patient and remember I love each and every one of you to absolute pieces <3 And with that I will be getting into the review!! xxx

Comfort: 10/10 Design: 10/10 Diameter: 14.5mm Vibrancy: holy fuck/10

Specifications:

Honestly I’m just so happy pinky paradise have stuck by me for so long, I know I’ve been moving between country to country and having work really frequently lately so I’m just really unbelievably grateful to the website for putting up with my bs. I’ve actually been meaning to get a new pair of green contacts for a wee while now as I have been tossing up whether or not to try and pull together a proper aph england cosplay (as mentioned above) for animaga this year for such a long time (and ofc melanie would be my ever so perfect america ;u; ) But!!! Depending on what y’all think depends on if I go through with it or not, your opinion really does matter to me. Anyways before I keep rambling on, PP kindly contacted me about reviewing a pair of their newly released ‘twilight reborn’ lenses, and I actually do own a pair of the original twilight lenses that I used for my Viktor cosplay from their website. After having such a good experience with the original releases, it was really quite exciting to be able to try out their new range of twilight lenses! The pigmentation in these are to absolutely die for so I’m just really, really pumped to put these out there more for those looking for intense pigmentation esp if you have darker eyes like myself.

So as usual I received these lenses in a bubble wrap lined packet and the shipping took around 2 weeks to get to Melbourne from Germany! The lining provides plenty of protection for the contents of the packet, and from the website I was sent a super cute pink animal case, a free gift (that i always love getting from them like gosh those hair grippy things r life savers when im doing my makeup i swear) and the lenses themselves! They were wrapped up securely in foam in order to protect the glass vials in which the lenses are contained within. 

Firstly I’ll talk about the case. Now a little known fact about me is that I actually adore the colour pink.... but ya girl isnt too good at pulling it off so she tends not to wear it however!!! plenty of my accessories and such most definitely are pink/in the pastel realm and to have this cute wee case to join my minimal collection of guilty pleasures sure is wonderful. The screw cap lid prevents the risk of leakage of contact solution and due to this case being made of plastic, the security of such is further heightened which means your lenses will not lose all of that solution that they swim around in; thusly causing them to dry out and break ): (It’s happened to me 0/10 a very heartbreaking experience) I also will forever be in love with the fact these cases have a L or R in each of the compartments which means if you require prescription lenses; you wont mix up which lens is crafted with which strength. (Hi yes Im supposed to wear glasses but refuse to + my glasses are in germany smd)

Here we have the cases with their super cute designs and clear labelling of what brand the Twilight Reborn series belongs to; that being ‘Princess Pinky’. On the lids the strength of each lens is clearly printed as to make it worlds easier for you to figure out what lens is for which eye (much like the functional detail in the animal cases!!) Both lenses came with plenty of solution contained within their vials and I don’t know how clearly i demonstrated removing the lids but there are little arrows where you’re supposed to pull up etc in order to get them off. The trickiness of the caps is vital for keeping these gorgeous babies from escaping their confines. 

So here as you can see are what the contacts looked like while still contained within the vials as well as how they look swimming around in fresh solution in their new home; the pink piggy case! Honestly there are not enough words to explain how much I adore the twilight series, both the original and the reborn, and that’s mainly because of the intensity of colour that they provide on any eye colour as well as the intelligent way in which these lenses incorporate so many different tones within their design. The various colours have an almost ombre effect as they fade from a darker green outer perimeter and lighten to really pretty yellows (which works perfectly with my weird ass eye colour) as the colour moves towards the pupil!

How they look in (excuse the finger u can see i just hate seeing my nose up close when im taking photos):

Overall I give these a 10/10 I love love love the difference you can see between my actual eye colour and the lenses themselves and how they even manage to bring out some of the green tones in my natural eye colour in the process. I 110% recommend looking into this brand and these specific lenses if you’re looking for comfort, quality, vibrancy and a really intelligent, complex design that manages to achieve a gorgeous surreal touch to any cosplay or casual outfit! Personally I’m going to likely buy myself another pair at some point and I hope you guys get tempted by these too because of my lawd these are just fantastic.  Regardless, thanks so much if you actually read this! I love you al so much please take care, stay safe and know you all have my support xxx <3

#review #pinkyparadise #pinkyparadise review #pinky paradise #aph england #hetalia #arthur kirkland #arthur kirkland cosplay #aph england cosplay #hetalia cosplay #cosplay