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dozing-marshmallow · 7 months

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helloo!! the og nibling requester here (hehe i gave myself that nickname :] ) okay, i've kinda got two ideas!! nibling!reader getting comfort from chris (n had an argument with someone, you can pick who) or, gn!reader x chris having a snow day :] you can pick either! thank you for the amazing stories <33

AWW HELLO AGAIN MY LOVE!❤️ Welcome back to my blog, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long! Thank you so much for your well meaning words, you are such a beaut, but really, you should be thanking yourself for giving the amazing requests! As always, I hope you enjoy!💗(and feel free to request the other idea again if it’s something you want to see in the future!)

CHRIS MCLEAN X NIBLING! READER HEADCANONS (PART 7)

It’s another school break, and you’re back.

Back on your uncle’s couch, watching TV.

You thought you had imagined it, but keeping your attention longer on the window rewarded you with the reality of the consistent fall of the watery fluff.

You come closer and your heart jumps in delight.

It’s snowing!

Squealing, you rush from the living room to find your uncle, to inform him of nature’s miracle, to get him to go outside with you, to to to!

“Chris?” you run up to his bedroom door and knock on it rhythmically, singing,“Do you wanna build a snowman? Come on let’s go and play-“

The door opens. Oh! Guess you didn’t need to go through the entire song, even though you had prepared for it.

The occupant snickers, pointing finger guns down at you, ski goggles on,“Already ahead of ya!”

Because this was the first time camp Wawanakwa was getting snow, you and Chris had to improvise on snow gear.

Well, you had to. Chris already had his set of winter clothes. Fortunately, you had your coat, mittens and worn out Wellington boots laying around somewhere and you got to borrow Chris’ pair of earmuffs and his scarf.

Stepping outside, it was a completely different air. The freezing change of temperature nibbled your skin like a shrew on a worm and the hairs on your arms somehow were tensing up when you just stepped outside. You forgot how cold the planet can be.

“I didn’t know islands could get snow! It’s so much!” you yell, throwing your legs up to merry about.

“You learn something new everyday!”

“Look! The whole trampoline is covered in snow!” you point astonished at the bouncy garden toy of springs, now submerged under the husking snowfall.

You had to be careful where you walked, come to realise- the entire island as you knew it was masked by this misty paleness that only seemed to thicken as more of its leader piled next to your ankles.

Naturally, you didn’t think about the dangers of gleefully hopping into the smooth slopes so soon, until you see that you’re about to walk into a chunky physique of a tree.

You stop on time, and feel something moving above you. Something alive. You feed your curiosity, finding a large pair of indigo eyes and a pointy nose.

“Look, Chris look!” you call cheerfully for him, neck extended to the sky,“There’s an owl up there!”

There was! You got to hold one once. It was heavy, but kind! This owl was as keen as you about this sudden weather pattern, sitting on top of the high tree branch, nuzzled in its feathery neck, before tending to its nest, seeing another identical head and two peek from inside of the dry tree room,“Aw, it has babies! They’re so cute!” you see your uncle aside you, also observing,“Do you think they’ll be okay in the cold?”

“Sure they will. They’re adapted to survive weathers like these.” his answer was bluntly uninspiring, grazing accurately to his non-peculiar passion for animals despite him being surrounded by them everyday,“Now about that snowman...”

“Oh yes! Let’s goooo...” you rotate to find a vacant opening,“Down there! Where we’ll have plenty of snow!”

Chris had another idea, trailing behind your steps, boots consuming your smaller tracks,"How about we have a competition? Best snowman gets first dibs on the fireplace." he obviously knew what would happen to bet that.

“Aww...” you pout, the tip of your nose starting to tingle,"Why do we need to compete? You know you're gonna win, you have bigger hands!"

"Ohh?” he puts a finger to his chin, smirking,“Already admitting defeat? I'll gladly take the title of victory!"

Something about his unnecessarily fuelled pride abruptly changed your mind,“I won't let the size of your hands stop me from building the best snowman the world's ever seen!"

“Alrighty then!” he holds his arms out, wind must’ve changed the direction to glue that face on his face,“Bring it on, nibling!”

The cold air howls past your face. Your tongue catches a few drops of snow, heading off under competition stress to mark your own construction ground,“How is it on tv they’re able to roll the snowball so smoothly?”

“You’ve been on tv yourself, (Y/N).” your uncle replies in a raised tone, moulding some snow from the ground into a sphere, still standing in the same position,“You should be able to figure it out.”

You somehow found some stones under this blank layer of Earth to place on the snowman’s torso and practically identical lengths of twigs for arms. The only thing missing was its clothes, but with this snowfall, it’d be a death wish to even remove these earmuffs!

You look over to Chris’ side: though his snowman was vast, you can tell from his relaxed pace of motion that he actually couldn’t be bothered to make it look good.

“Pretty awesome snowman!” he congratulates you on yours by the unspoken end.

You’re very proud,“Yep! I did that!” It was so good you would have thought Chris made it!,“Too bad he decomposed early."

Confused, your uncle cocks his head to the side,"What do you mean?"

Unprompted, you tore a piece of the snowman’s shoulder and threw it at Chris, striking his chest,"Boom! Take that!"

He wipes the remaining frozen fragments off him,“Is that what we’re going to do now?” he briefly returns to his sloppy snowman and removed its head from the body of snow, darkly joking,“Remember that’s how your teddy looked like that one time?”

“Because of Heather!” you giggle, now able to fill your newer days with laughter about the tragedy you genially moved on from,“Ahh!”

Your uncle starts to chase you with both hands full of the clump of crystals. You liked running in the snow- every time you placed a foot ahead, it’d let out this really soothing crunch sound.

Whenever you think you’re far enough with time to spare, you’d hurry to grab a good handful of snow from the ground to throw at him, stride never getting slower.

I wish footprints didn’t exist!

Eventually, he makes an extra step for the chance and launches it, not thinking it would stay in the air for so long.

No amount of running could save you from the hurl of the large cannon ball- on impact, you land on your back into a lower plane of snow, where on a warmer day, you would’ve seen how high you fell from the mini hill.

Chris was worried when you don’t instantly recover to your feet, but smiles when he rushed to find you parting and closing your legs, raising and lowering your arms in the digging form of a snow angel, seeing the distribution of uneven crumbles of his snowman’s head.

The snowflakes resumes to sprinkle your face, gently pecking your youthful features with the cooling drops of white. It wasn’t so cold anymore,“Hehehe! Do one with me, uncle Chris!”

So he does, not surprising that his one was much larger, with his height and fur coat.

You jump up from the soggy ground and admire another work of art you both had shaken into the bitter sheet.

The nibling and uncle silhouettes in the snow had you remembering another must do in this foggy weather.

“Chriiiis, can we go back inside now and have hot chocolate?”

He groans in disbelief,“Seriously? Boooooooo.” he reluctantly dragged his legs across the snow, in the direction of his “cottage”. You can see it from the distance, the yellow beams illuminating the squares of glass, probably being the only reason why he knew how to get back,“What a perfect time to get ice cream.”

“Ah...” it felt great to be back inside. His house was soooo cosy. And this hot chocolate was just what you needed. You might need to dump your feet into a tub of hot water,“Uncle, do you think we can play some Christmas songs?”

“Why, because it’s snowing it means it’s the holidays?” right after he snorted, his mouth is covered by the back of his mug. Paradoxically, he was back in his indoor clothes before you, reminding you once again that your uncle really was unpredictable.

“The holidays wanted to come early! Which meaaans I’ll be getting extra time off school!” you clutch giggly to the circumference of your mug, hands burning. More time to stay, more time to play!

“But that means no holidays during December.” he smirks, twirling his steamy cocoa around, sinister to your let down.

“Aww...” you hated how realistic that sounded. School was so mean!,“Never mind...” there wouldn’t be enough time to open presents. You pitifully pinch a marshmallow from your cup and chomp on it.

“Hey, no need to be so down!” Chris’ charismatic voice rasps as he rubs your head,“Christmas is right around the corner.”

“True...” you add another swirl of whipped cream to your cup, covering the homely brown,“Will I get to be here then?”

“For sure! It’ll be the best Christmas yet!” he affirms with strength.

Hm hm (hm). Hm hm hm hm hm hm hm.

#chris mclean #chris mclean x reader #total drama chris mclean #tdi x reader #total drama island chris #total drama #tdi #td chris mclean x reader #request #td chris #uncle chris mclean #nibling reader #nibling #total drama chris #chris nibling reader

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neverwasreddie · 2 years

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Richie doesn’t love visiting Eddie in New York right now, what with his divorce being not-quite-finalized and his house being not-quite-sold. Things between him and Myra seem amiable, at least, as far as Richie can tell, but it doesn’t mean he personally wants to spend any more time with the ghost of Sonya Kaspbrak than he has to.

But Eddie is wrapping up loose ends at work before his two-weeks’ notice is up, and he insists to Richie that he can’t fly out to LA right now, that it’s absolutely imperative that Richie keep his schedule clear to come see him, instead.

Richie plays nice and flies out to New York and even brings flowers to Myra as a peace offering, a “thanks for putting up with your almost-ex-husband’s best friend sleeping on your couch.”

Eddie will be moving out of that loveless townhouse soon enough, he figures, a thought that has absolutely nothing to do with him personally but still sends a little thrill through Richie every time he thinks of it, regardless.

Eddie meets his Uber out front, grabs him in a hug and practically throws his flowers inside the house with barely a word to Myra on his way back out. He doesn’t even give Richie a chance to step inside, just grabs his duffel bag and throws it into his own car and herds Richie into the passenger seat.

“We’re staying outside the city tonight, if that’s okay,” he says, swerving through city traffic and eventually navigating out of the city entirely. “I have something planned. Don’t hate it, alright?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Richie says with a laugh, half-nervous and half-delighted, the way he always feels around Eddie.

They check into a hotel somewhere in New Jersey just off the Turnpike, grab something to eat, and then get back in the car. Before long, they’re pulling into a crowded parking lot outside of a massive football stadium.

“Eddie, no offense, but I’m probably the wrong guy to bring to a football game.”

“It’s not even football season.” Eddie rolls his eyes good-naturedly and continues manhandling Richie, this time out of the car and up to a long security queue outside the stadium. “It’s a concert. Promise me you’re not going to hate it, all right? These tickets were expensive. You have to have fun or I’m not hanging out with you anymore.”

The fact that Eddie seems nervous weirdly calms Richie’s nerves, though his heart starts pounding as they make their way inside the stadium and up to their seats. They’re in a decent spot in the crowd — not floor seats, but not nosebleeds, either, and fairly centered in front of the stage. But Richie has been taking note of the merch tables on the way in, all the T-shirts worn by the guests around him, and he can’t stop his hands from shaking.

“Eddie,” he says, leaning in to be heard over the rising din of the crowd, “don’t tell me this is what I think it is. I’m gonna fucking die if you brought me to a Bruce Springsteen concert.”

Eddie whips his head around to stare hard at Richie. “I did. Why? Do you not like him anymore? I thought you loved him. You always used to listen to him in high school.”

Richie did always love Bruce Springsteen, and still does; that’s the problem. The amount of nights high-school Richie wished on shooting stars and called in to radio contests, praying to win Bruce tickets so he could take Eddie to a concert, to make it a real date…it’s all he ever dreamed of, and to have it now, without the deeper meaning behind it, is breaking his heart just a little.

But it’s also the best thing anyone has ever done for him, and he can’t help it if his eyes get misty and he has to throw his arms around Eddie and squeeze him tight.

“Alright, alright, I get it, enough,” Eddie laughs as the opening chords blare through the stadium. But when he pulls back, there’s something glimmering in his eyes, and he briefly rests a hand on Richie’s cheek before turning to the stage.

Halfway through the show, when the Boss is crooning about ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away, how it’s a town full of losers and he’s pulling out of here to win, Richie turns to Eddie and squeezes his hand.

“When your 2 weeks at your job are up,” he says quickly, “when your divorce is finalized. Don’t stay here. Come to Los Angeles. Come live with me.”

The final harmonica notes are fading out by the time Eddie’s incredulous frown is smoothed away into a look of disbelief and then, miraculously, a smile.

“Hell yeah,” he says quietly, then again, louder, over the booming opening chords of the next song. “Hell yeah!”

He squeezes Richie’s hand back and then keeps holding on, doesn’t let go for the whole show.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #reddie fic #it 2019 #this is so long omg sorry #the richie tozier bruce springsteen agenda #richie tozier is a bruce springsteen stan truthers unite #literally richie as an annoying music kid who won’t shut up about springsteen is so !!!!! to me #more ‘mich gives her favorite characters her taste in music’ content #reddie bc

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juneknight · 2 years

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//An Island No More\\

“Never knew we had so much bloody stuff,” Steven mutters. He sits like an island in the sea of junk, a head of haphazard curls bobbing above piles of eclectically sorted items that the two of you have dredged up from various surfaces around the flat. Steven and the others aren’t hoarders, but they do have a habit of refusing to throw anything away lest it belong to another alter. You served as a middleman, the only one present consistently enough to know what is whose and what's worth keeping. “Look at this—a flyer from last year! I don’t even think this restaurant is open anymore. Rubbish.”

He crumples it and takes aim at the rubbish bin, sinking the shot with a practiced flick of his wrist. Littered around the bin on the floor are your own failed attempts.

Picking up a fresh stack of papers and books to comb through, Steven continues: “Real convenient how Marc and Jake are missing in action. They always seem to skive off on cleaning days and leave it all to us, don’t they?”

“We’ll save the bathroom for them,” you suggest, sitting heavily into the chair at Steven’s desk and wondering where to begin making sense of the mess. “Wouldn’t be right for us to have all the fun.”

Steven grins. “It’s the civil thing to do, isn’t it? Look at this—a calendar for three years from now? What’s the bloody use in that? We don’t even own a calendar for this year.”

“I think we do,” you say, plucking highlighters of various colors from beneath papers and inside pencil cups. “Over under Sole’s book about the Rosetta Stone. I think Marc brought home the one you're holding though. Is it empty?”

The pages rustle as he flips through them. “Yeah. Wait—no. Something’s here: Falls. Did you write that?”

You blink, wracking your brain. “Oh. No. That must have been Marc. He told me ages ago when we were chatting about bucket lists, things we’d like to do, places we’d like to visit and such. Mostly, he just listened, but he did say he’d always wanted to see Niagara Falls, so I suggested we go on your next birthday milestone. I said we could look into—what is it? Steven, what is it?”

Steven has grown still. For a moment, you think that he has switched, that Jake or Marc has come to the front. But when he glances up at the sound of you calling his name, you know it’s him. You can always tell your lovers apart by their eyes. Steven’s eyes are soft, open, and currently filled with tears.

“What is it?” you ask, heart in your throat.A highlighter slips from your fingers and clatters to the wooden floor, rolling somewhere beneath the desk. “What’s wrong, love?”

Steven laughs wetly, rubbing his knuckles against the rims of his eyes to head off any falling tears. “Nothing. I just—well, you don’t understand, do you?”

“Is it the Falls? Does it mean something to you? Marc said he’d never been—“

“We haven’t, no. But Marc…this isn’t like him, you know.”

You don’t know, not yet. But something in Steven’s tone has you dropping the rest of the highlighters and high-stepping your way through all the junk, past the sea and up onto the sand with him til he is alone no more. An island no more.

Steven leans against you. His thumb brushes over Marc’s neat, cramped script. “I don’t think he’s ever really been the sort to make plans or think too far ahead. Maybe he couldn’t imagine a future for himself. Maybe he didn’t want to. But something’s changed now, hasn’t it? It’s right here, isn’t it? He’s going to Niagara Falls.”

It’s your turn for your eyes to grow misty. Unable to speak around the knot in your throat, you wrap your arms around Steven and nod into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, squeezing tighter when you feel the desperate way he clings back.

All at once, he reaches to cup your jaw and move you away so that he can cast his anxious eyes—Marc, Marc’s eyes, always so searching and uncertain, with the line between the brows—over your wet cheeks. Now he wipes at your tears.

“Hey,” Marc soothes. “What is it? Did something happen? Steven slipped away so fast.”

“Nothing happened,” you promise. “Just—come here. Let me hold you.”

“Never gonna say no to that,” Marc murmurs, wrapping his arms around you. You rest your head against his shoulder, close enough to feel the distant thrum of his steady pulse. He’s alive. More than that, he wants to live. Steven was right. You hadn’t understood at all.

#steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader

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wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

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A man called Tobi

Hey, hi, hello, this is another exchange event fic. Woo! We had "Beach Day Episode" as a general topic- which meant all things summer-y! And I.. well I tried..

My exchange partner was @hkzv which is so lucky because I love her art so much and It was high time I gave something back for how amazing she is. All the Obito goodness and sometimes I get some Kakashi too T_T I truly love what she is doing and I'm just... so.. ah... well. I hope she'll like this

Uchiha Obito x Reader

Rated E. 18+ mdni

7239 words

thank you for beta reading @lemony-snickers. Ilu <3

warning for: vaginal sex, oral sex, fingering and a lot of emo obito thoughts.

Ao3 link [x]

Tired of playing pretend and lost in his many fake identities the masked man leaves his position as Shadow Mizukage behind for a while to visit the beach.

The first time he saw the sea, he thought it must have been a mistake, a trick of the light playing on a large body of water that could not possibly be that vast. But he had been younger and more naive and the world had just changed from colour to grey. Now, as his working eye was looking around the sand along the beach, and he heard the waves rolling in, he was not surprised by it all, but he could not stop being amazed either way.

The masked man had travelled far to get to this place. All the way from the misty coasts of Kirigakure to Suna, the desert, that only had a few beaches like this, but those few beaches were regarded as the best ones in the country. He had always wanted to see them, mostly because they were so pronounced in the children’s books when he grew up. Well, when Uchiha Obito had grown up. Because the masked man was not Uchiha Obito - Uchiha Obito had died long ago.

This was very much the reason he was here. Too lost had he been jumping around the multiple personalities he had taken on after Obito’s death. He was the shadow mizukage, he was Uchiha Madara and he used to be Uchiha Obito, but not anymore. All of these swirled in his mind constantly and when he looked at himself in the mirror, watched the scars on the right side of his face swirl exactly as much, he didn’t know who he was. He was nobody and he was everybody. He needed a break from the many faces he was carrying to wear nothing but a mask.

So he had stepped up as Madara to Kisame and told him that he would take a break to go to Sunagakure for a while. It seemed so useless to tell someone like Kisame this news, as they weren’t friends and not even something like colleagues, but the masked man felt like someone needed to know where he went. Maybe it was some left over feeling from when he was a child, when all he wanted was for someone else to worry over him. Maybe it was just his idea of Madara, who would surely tell his underlings when he just decided to take a month long beach vacation. Or maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t matter to the masked man.

He had never seen a beach like this before. Of course Kirigakure had its own coast, as it was in the Land of Water, but they were usually rocky and the water was often too cold to step into it. On the other hand Suna had warm streams at their long, sandy beaches. The direct water connection was also the reason a village could even be formed here in the desert. Why he had chosen this exact place to get a break he did not know. It had been a dream of Uchiha Obito’s to see it with his own eyes and maybe the masked man had followed that instinct even though that part of him was long gone.

There were some people laying in the sand, letting the waves wash over them and the masked man wondered how warm the water must be. As he sat out to walk to the waves he noticed how easily his feet sank into the sand, how easily the sand spread into his sandals and between his toes. He decided to go hide out somewhere later so he could properly undress his shoes and feel it beneath his feet.

The sun was high in the sky and he felt sweaty under his heavy, black cloak, but disrobing was not an option. When he passed people they were staring back at him not only for that, but also for the mask he was wearing on his nose. He had gotten it from Zetsu a while ago. A long, flat, wooden thing with black flames and exactly one hole for his eye. He’d played with the thought to get a new one from somewhere, but he didn’t know what kind of symbol he would want on it. How did he want to present himself to the world from now on? If he wasn’t Madara, if he wasn’t the Mizugake, if Obito was dead - who was he?

“Would you like to buy a fresh orange?”, a voice called out to him from his left, which was his blind spot, so he had to physically rip his head over to look at the direction. The woman was maybe twenty, hair put into a ponytail to get it out of her face. There were several really plump oranges placed in front of her on a little plate and the man had to admit that they did look very delicious, but he hadn’t eaten since Obito died, because he didn’t need to, and so he wasn’t interested in spending his money for that.

He just shook his head at her without saying another word. She frowned a little and put her head to the side. He was aware how stupid he looked in this outfit in this heat and though he’d never seen her before it stung a little that she was apparently making fun of him. She should just go and sell her stupid oranges to people who actually needed to eat them. He definitely didn’t. He walked away and after looking over his shoulder one time saw that her eyes were following him.

There was no opportunity to undress as long as there were so many people around, so the masked Man teleported to a more rocky area towards the end of the beach. There was a little cave there that was full of sand and you could go into the water. Both sides were blocked off by high rocks and it was very unlikely that anyone would ever come down here. The perfect place to actually experience the beach as himself. Or whatever version of himself he was going to be. To make sure he could be undisturbed, he left a shadow clone fully clothed watching at the top of the hill, then he undressed.

Being in an ocean for the first time in his life felt like an other worldly experience. There was a quiet when he put his head under the water that no other quiet he ever experienced could compare to. His ears were rushing in, his eyes were closed, his body was swaying. He knew that coming here had been the right choice from the first time he had touched the sand. The soft but warm grains between his feet. He felt so terribly rested as long as his full body was underwater, as if all his thoughts and anxieties were turned off in an instant. The fish weren’t judging him for his scars, they were not expecting him to lead or make plans or be anything more than a floating human.

Endlessly fascinated with the waves crashing over and over to the shore, the man stayed in the cave until nightfall upon which he decided to dress up again to return to the part of the beach with other people. Curiosity drove him there, he wanted to watch some people live their lives. He’d always told himself that he did that because he wanted as many memories as possible to make his perfect Tsukuyomi, but when he wasn’t careful enough and his thoughts would slip away from him he did it out of jealousy. How dare these people be happy when Uchiha Obito could not be? How could they live if he couldn’t?

He sat down in the sand and let his cape fall around him. HIs mask was placed on his head again, though his hair was still wet from the swim he did earlier. He enjoyed the little drips from it falling into his neck, after all it was still very hot out here, no matter the daytime. Suddenly he heard footsteps out of his blindspot and he moved the eye to the left, sharingan active and ready to strike if necessary.

“I didn’t see you all day.” It was the woman that had offered him an orange before. She was holding one now too, throwing it up and down in her hand like it was a tiny ball. From size it could have been. The man wondered if he’d ever seen an orange that was this ripe.

Without asking she sat down next to him and began peeling the fruit: “You are an outsider, right?” He did not know how to reply to that, because he couldn’t think quickly enough about which voice he wanted to use. Madara and the shadow Mizukage seemed threatening and Obito? The man did not know if he could do a voice matching Obito’s. “It’s just your skin is so light”, she pointed to the outline of the gloves. He just nodded, maybe a little too eagerly.

Somehow this made her giggle a little. She offered him a piece of the orange and he, absentmindedly staring at her through his eye hole, took it and ate it. It tasted sweet. So he could still taste things even if he didn’t feel hunger, he thought. This was a new revelation. There was a part of him that celebrated this. Now he could eat all his favourite snacks once again. But then he wondered if this version of him even had favourite snacks.

He let his eye wander over her face as she was concentrating on peeling the rest of the orange. She had long fingers that ended in painted nails, with each nail painted in a different colour as if a child had done it. He followed her and as she broughtthe piece to her lips and noted the way the fruit juice coated them slightly. She looked good doing that, he thought and swallowed hard. Suddenly there was heat at the neck that he couldn’t quite explain, so he looked away again.

“Will you tell me your name?” she asked as if she had noticed how much he had stared at her. “I just think strangers that share oranges with each other should know each other’s name.” She gave him hers.

Panic rose up. He really wanted to tell her his name, any name, but which name was he supposed to use? There was none fitting enough to express himself. He scrambled.“O -” he started and then knowing in which direction he was going stuttered on “O-bi…To-Bi - Tobi.” Somehow that felt right.

She laughed as a reply: “Obitobi?” He waved energetically with his hand: “Tobi, just Tobi.”

Tobi felt light in the chest knowing that the person finally had a name. Now he could learn the entire identity around it. Away from Madara and Obito. Away from his past and future. Just here under the rising stars with the waves crashing against the shore. Tobi was apparently a guy that beautiful women approached and who would be against that.

“Well then just as an advice “Just Tobi” - if you are not careful in the sun you’ll get a nasty sunburn if your skin is not used to it”, she said, tapping with her finger to the skin beneath his gloves. Tobi pulled his hand back as if she had cut him. Human touch had been something he had not felt in a long time, or better said, it was the first time Tobi experienced it.

“Are you not scared of Tobi?” he heard himself say and was surprised to find out that Tobi apparently talked about himself in the third person. The man thought that this was a really weird thing to do, but she completely let it pass by without comment.

She threw the last piece of orange into her mouth: “I just think you look cool. With that cloak and this mask.” She stared at the mask from the side and Tobi moved sideways to stop her from looking into his face from beneath it. “So no, I am not scared. Should I be?”

He didn’t know how to reply to that. Was Tobi a violent person? Was Tobi a person to be worried about? Madara was. The Shadow Mizukage definitely was. Obito was not. He was innocent and naive and friendly to the world. It was not clear what Tobi was going to be. For now he settled on: “No.”

“Right then”, she laughed, clapping her hands together, “I have to get home.” She got up and shook the sand out of her pants. “Come back tomorrow if you want to have another orange, Tobi.” She waved at him and left.

Tobi watched the woman walk away and felt the embarrassment in his face. She was pitying him as an outsider, he thought. She thought he didn't look healthy so she offered him food, he thought. But he couldn’T stop thinking about her calling him “cool''. Nobody had ever called him cool before. Never. Even back when Obito was still alive he had been nothing but a loser.

With kamui he returned to the cave he had spent the afternoon in to spend the night. He decided to go see her again the next day, just like she requested.

– –

Tobi returned to the orange stand the next day, just like he had decided he would the evening before. He was again wearing the long robe and the mask, but he started to grow weary of it. Not only was he constantly sweating beneath it, he also felt like it really was time for something new.

The seller was already there, hair flying free this time over her shoulder whenever she swirled around to talk to customers. She once again didn’t have too many oranges laying around, maybe they could not stand the heat well enough. When her eyes found him he could see them light up and she waved at him. Tobi waved back enthusiastically for a reason he did not himself understand, and walked over to get closer to her.

“Hello Tobi”, she smiled at him, which made him uneasy, “I saved one of these for you.” She pointed at an orange to her left. “I cut them up nice and small so you can eat them under your mask. You look like someone who refuses to take his mask off, I think.” The other customers looked at Tobi weirdly from the sides, but he paid them no mind. All that mattered was that she was there laughing at him. He giggled, which was apparently something Tobi did, the man noted.

“You are right”, he said with another quiet giggle, “Tobi does not like to take his mask off, but Tobi likes sweet oranges.” With a smile, she handed the slices over to him and Tobi began putting them into his mouth. They were fresher and sweeter than the evening before and seemed to melt on his tongue. It really was godsent in this insane heat to have something so fresh to eat. The company was nice too, he thought.

She watched one slice after another disappear under his mask and said: “Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?” He shrugged his shoulders and it came out more dramatically than he wanted. That was a good question. Tobi was a new personality that had not yet been refined. The masked man still had to learn all he could learn about Tobi and so far it seemed at least, as if Tobi was someone who spoke of himself in the third person.

“It’s not your real name, am I right? Tobi, I mean.” She was good at this, the man thought. Her intuition could be dangerous if she saw him as a threat. But fortunately, in this goofy disguise he was in, she didn’t seem to be scared of him at all. He took note of this.

“Tobi is this person’s name,” he replied, which was neither a lie nor the actual truth. For all he knew, the man was overall nameless. The only names he had were the ones given to him when he turned himself into another person and the person he was now was named Tobi.

He finished the orange and bowed theatrically as a thanks. “Tobi has a place to go,” he said to finally escape the sun. “Will Tobi be back?” she asked and put her head to the side. He liked the way her hair looked in the sun, he thought. Going to the same place too much could spell trouble, especially if someone saw too closely beneath his mask. But this was something like his vacation, so he felt like he was entitled to do what he wanted. “Yes! Save Tobi orange slices!” he waved and on the inside cringed a little at his behaviour.

The full rest of the day he spent around his cave, just now with two shadow clones watching him. If she was just playing games with them surely by now she might have alerted some shinobi to his presence. If she was a shinobi herself she might have felt his chakra even with his use of suppressing techniques. Of course, she might just have genuinely been a nice person, but Tobi was not only a goofy and giggling little man, he was also suspicious of everyone.

The day after and the day after that and every day he would come visit her in the morning before he spent the rest of the day floating in the water in his hideout. She was expecting him day by day, putting first one, then two oranges out for him to eat. Each time she saw him approach she’d wave at him and each time her smile would become a little wider. In turn he would play up the giggly, school-girl like side of Tobi that he was just now learning about. Not only had he noticed that people stopped eyeing him suspiciously if he played the clown, but also she laughed heartily. So no matter how much he hated himself for it, he could not stop.

No matter the heat and how it drenched him in sweat from head to toe, Tobi always went there completely dressed with a mask, cloak and gloves. Several times she asked him if he didn’t feel warm in his outfit and Tobi had replied in a giggle and waved the question away, but the man beneath the mask had wished he could have said that he would like to take it all off. In these situations he fantasised about the shadow of the cave and the relaxing water that was right before it. Of course he didn’t have to come back every time to see her, he could just hide out in the cave’s shadow as long as he wanted, but something kept him coming back.

With each passing day he stayed a little longer. Soon two oranges turned into three and four. He’d lean against the stand and entertain the children around him with goofy noises and giggles and tapping his finger against his mask. He’d not heard children’s laughter since Obito had died and so he was very delighted to have it around again. It gave him a carefree feeling he had not had before. As if miles from here, in Kirigakure, was not his job and his destiny waiting for him.

“Why are you even wearing a mask?” she asked one day and knocked with her knuckle against the wood of it. She had gotten more daring in touching his arm or ruffling his hair, which always let his nerves act up in a way that Tobi could not control, but also her questions had gotten more provocative. Her statement in the first night had not been a lie, she was not scared of him and the more he played up the innocent, awkward, goofy side of Tobi, the closer she let him get to her. This was valuable information, he thought. For infiltration. To get people’s trust. To get her to touch him again…

Still, the mask stayed on at all times: “Tobi’s face is not a nice thing to look at,” he replied. “You would not like Tobi if you could see Tobi’s face.” He thought of the scars that ran down the entire side of his body. How he sometimes looked at himself on the surface of the still water in the cave. How he hated the sight he saw. He wasn’t even playing, Tobi not liking his face was in agreement with the man behind the mask.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she smiled and put her head to the side as she did when she was being stubborn. To his delight she stretched out her arm again to go through the hair at the back of his head. “I can’t believe a man like you could be anything less than handsome.”

Maybe Tobi was an act that he had put on to get close to her, but the leap his heart made was very real. And he hadn’t felt like that since he had been much, much younger.

The man left her stand behind earlier than usual that day, fleeing the scene as if he had left a dead body there. His head was swirling when he took off his clothes to jump into the water, to put the familiar rushing into his ears that stopped him from thinking. Her smile was in front of his closed eyelids as if it had been burned into them. When he took a breath, he could feel his heartbeat against his chest, loud and demanding. He wanted to be closer even still.

That night he thought of Uchiha Obito, the boy that had died before he could be a proper teenager. If he were here today he might be doing things like trying to get closer to a girl that he liked. He would be at this age after all. Most guys their age probably already had experience at this point and knew how holding someone else felt like, how kissing someone was like, how love was like.

But Obito would never experience these things. Not only because he was dead for ten years or so now, but also because he couldn’t. Even grown up he would not be the type for anyone to fall for. Obito was a naive person, a childish person, and Tobi was confident and calm. Tobi could do these things. Tobi was strong, Tobi knew how the world worked, Tobi was a man that could be liked, could kiss and could love.

The next day when he returned to her she had a present for him. “Look that is sort of like you”, she said and gave him a large orange in which she had carved a swirl into with a large knife. “There is one hole for your eye look” she held it in front of her face. His heart took another leap and so did his body, as he moved forward to take her into a hug. “Tobi is so flattered you would make him a present,” he said and held her close. Yes, Tobi was a person who was flattered by presents, Tobi was someone who could just hug people that he liked. Even if Obito was still alive, this would never be something he would be able to do.

– –

One night, the height of the summer weeks had already passed, the locals had a lantern festival. She had told Tobi about it a few days ago. “We could go together”, she had said with a smile and a soft hand on his glove. The thought of doing something so trivial as going to a festival with a woman, something that Tobi maybe was capable of doing, fried his brain. He took a step back and pulled his arm out and before he could really consider it, declined. That was just going too far now.

Instead of strolling the stands and sharing the sweet treats with a beautiful girl, he instead spent the night sitting on top of his cave and watching the lanterns go up from afar. He was not dressed in his usual robe, the mask had been lazily put to his side. There were so many lights. She had said there would be about a thousand and he could not help but think of the festivals that Obito used to attend when he was a kid in his village. Of the fireworks he had loved so much seeing, the people he loved spending time with, but that was so long ago. A distant memory that was nothing but a dream.

The lights reflected in his dark eye. Little balls of light in a dark ocean of nothingness. That was how this entire trip felt to the man. Nothing but a tiny glimmer of how something better could be like. Only that he knew there was nothing better waiting for him. He would always be faceless, nameless, a mask for every personality he had to play. And the world would not change until he played his final role -many, many years from now.

He heard the steps coming over the rocks too late, too lost in watching the lights float over the dark waters. Tonight, since he was sitting on top of his cave anyway, he had decided not to cover every angle with a shadow clone. He had believed to be able to look after himself well enough. Evidently, that had been wrong. She was behind him before he could kamui himself out of existence. “Tobi?” she asked softly and somehow his heart leaped at the fact that she recognised him immediately.

Slowly he turned his head, hoping that the dark of the night would cover most of his face. His hand felt for the mask he placed at his side. She looked exhausted, sweat on her brow and forehead. She must have climbed all the rocks to get to him. Why? Why had she come here? How had she found him here? There was no way she could have followed him, right? Most of the time Tobi used Kamui to disappear and that was not easy to track. Unless she placed a tracker on him. Maybe she was a shinobi after all. He took a step back.

“I didn’t think I would see you here like this”, she said and took a step forward towards him. “I come here always during the festival, it is the best spot to see the lanterns.” Excuses, Tobi’s brain screamed at him. She was just playing with him, exactly like every other person was just toying with him. Nobody had ever been sincere their entire lives. This had been a scam. Spending time in this place had been such a waste. The world was cruel and rotten. Tobi knew this now as well as the masked man did.

He growled in his own voice, the dark rumble he sometimes used as Shadow Mizukage, but most of the time only when he spoke to himself: “You should not have come here.” It was a threat, at least he had meant to make it sound like that. “Don’t follow me further.” Quickly he reached for his mask and then kamui’ed his way into the cave below, scrambling to put his things together. It had been a mistake coming here, he needed to get out as fast as possible.

When he heard her footsteps behind him, Tobi closed his only eye. He pleaded with her silently not to come inside. If she would step into the light of the lanterns to see his face, his real face, he would have to kill her. That was how it was. Nobody could know who was behind the mask, because it didn’t matter who was behind the mask. The person he once was had been dead and buried long ago. He was nobody now. Nothing but a wooden face.

But she ignored his unspoken pleas and entered the cave behind him. “Tobi, I’m sorry I didn’t-” she started and he knew she was going to apologise, but she stopped when he turned his head. The lantern light flickered in her eyes as she looked over him, every inch of him. Tobi hand moved towards his kunai pouch, just one throw and she could never see him ever again. His hand, however, refused to move. Instead he stood there frozen to let her stare at him.

“You- “ she said, stepping forward closer to him, “You have scars..” He made a “tsk” sound and pulled his head away, but she had already closed the gap between them. A soft hand touched his cheek before he could stop it. If he had revelled in their tiny skin contact before, this seemed almost obscenely close. Her hands were tiny, warm and a little roughed up from the climb up the hill. But they felt wonderful on his skin and his heart felt heavy and yearning for more. It had been so long since he’d been touched. Long, long, long, back before he was dead.

She used her pointer finger to trace along the lines of the deep scars on his face, over his functioning eye and under it, carefully, as if she could hurt him again if she would be too harsh. Obito could feel himself melt under it, wishing she would never stop. Right from the beginning she hadn’t been scared of him even though she maybe should have. She had taken him in, maybe out of pity, maybe out of curiosity and spent time with him. When their eyes met again she said: “You’re very handsome, Tobi.”

And there it was, Obito thought. Tobi was the one who could let people come close to him. Tobi could freely talk with beautiful women and have relationships with them in a way Obito never could. Tobi could do whatever he wanted if someone decided to trust him. She liked that about Tobi, the fact that he was goofy and approachable and non threatening. It was only logical that Tobi was also able to get even closer to her if he wanted to. Tobi was the sort of character that could kiss pretty girls if he wanted to. Not Obito. Obito was just the observer, so he thought.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling her even closer, letting their chests push against each other. He half assumed she would push herself away from him, now, after all, disgusted with his face, his only eye, his arms and legs visible to her for the first time, but she did not. She stayed with her hand on his face, holding his cheeks in between them like a rare gift she needed to take care of. And he wanted her to take care of him.

Obito saw her lips wet right in front of him. He wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. He wondered if she was also watching him and then suddenly felt very aware of his own body’s shortcomings. But her eyes never left his face and when the pull became too strong, Tobi took the lead. Unafraid as always, he leaned down and closed the distance between them.

– –

Kissing was an absolute wonder, Obito thought. She clearly knew it better than he did. Her tongue lightly touched his lips and then pressed on through to force him to open his mouth, and he did, following her lead wherever she went. She was pressing herself against him flatly now, her hands moving from his face to his hair and back. Obito wanted her even closer. An urge moved him to pull her down with him, onto the place in the cave where he’d laid out some pillows for him to sit on.

When Obito had been young, the boys had talked about this thing the adults did to make children. They’d fantasised about it and sometimes spied on the occasional public couple in their home village. It had all seemed so odd and wrong to him then, but he was still a child. Back when he’d been naive, before he had died. Boys his age usually had much more experience with this by now, but Obito had not had the chance.

Tobi seemed self assured though, and so Obito helped her out of her clothes without even his fingers shaking. When he kissed her neck she sighed, when he graced the thin skin on her throat with his teeth, she winced and when he kissed her she pulled his hair to pull him in closer. All of it was happening at once, and the feeling was overwhelming.

This person melted under his fingers as much as he melted under hers. Each clothing item removed felt like one barrier falling. Maybe if it were Obito he would have been scared of revealing so much of himself to another person, but Tobi was not scared. It was all a big adventure to Tobi. Her boobs were freed and open in front of him and he touched them and kissed them just like he had read in dirty books as a teenager. Clearly those dirty books were not entirely wrong, because soon she began squirming under him.

“I-I’ve never…” Obito suddenly said in his own voice. She had taken his hand and put it between her legs. Her eyes were reflected by the lamplight again and then she sat up. She shimmied out of her own underwear, now completely naked before him, and took his hand again. His cock felt harder against his own underwear than it had been his entire life up to this point.

She angled his fingers and he followed like a puppet. “I’ll show you” Her smile was sweet and inviting. “We start with one.” Then she pushed his finger into her. It was warm and wet. Obito knew that her being wet meant that she had enjoyed what he had done so far and was into it, and it sent a shiver up his spine.

“Keep your finger angled like this”, she said and showed him with her own hand, before falling back into the pillows. “Yes, like that. Now move.” He did as instructed, pushing his finger as far as he could into her. “Yes.”

He couldn’t help but activate his sharingan to memorise everything that was happening. The way her body moved under him when he angled his fingers. The way her eyelids fluttered when he kissed her nipples or bit her shoulder. He felt unusually proud of his ability to do these things to her, when in reality she had just told him what to do.

Lightly she touched her hand on his hand. He looked up to meet her eyes. “Two fingers”, she ordered, her breath a little heavy now. He did as instructed and angled his fingers into her again. He watched as one of her own hands found it’s way between her legs. She was touching something just above where his hand was. He kept pushing and watching what she was doing with her own fingers.

Her breath came in hard now and her eyes stayed permanently closed. She let out sounds sometimes that he could feel vibrate at his core and his cock. Part of him wished for nothing else but her to undress his pants so he could let it out, but he kept doing what she had told him to do. Making her feel like this, lose herself like this, Obito revelled in it. This was fun. He was enjoying himself.

“Faster”, she breathed out. He had watched her long enough for his sharingan to memorise the spot she was twirling her fingers over, so he carefully stopped her hand from moving and instead pressed his own thumb on it. This earned him a yelp from her and her hips jerked upwards into him. “It’s… almost”, she said and Obito felt spurred on.

She came with a long sigh as if she’d just been relieved by a heavy burden. Her body twitched underneath him and her insides pulsed around his fingers. He pushed forward, open eye watching her squirm. Her face was red now, mouth permanently opened for the pants that now escaped her. He was glad that the sharingan was available to him. He would replay this moment until the day he died, Obito thought.

“Now… you”, she said and pressed his hand out of her. Obito would have kept going, but she was over him before he could protest. Her kisses were warm and urgent on his skin, her breath was still heavy. Clearly she was still riding the aftermath of her high and didn’t want it to stop. She moved her way down over his torso, carefully tracing his scars and then they arrived at his underwear, which clearly showed the outline of his hard cock

She grinned at him and winked: “We should let that one out, don’t you think?” He wasn’t thinking at all, Obito wanted to say, but his mouth was dry and unable to let out a single sound other than a sigh when her hands traced over the tip of him. She took his underwear off quickly and let his cock reach its full height. For a second she just admired it and Obito felt strangely nervous about the way her eyes shone.

Then she lifted herself up over him, pressing him back into the cushions. They exchanged a look and she let herself down over him, perfectly angling his cocks so that he could easily slide inside. The feeling that invited him almost knocked him out. He moaned in his own voice before he could stop it and that brought forth a little giggle from her side. “You have to promise to tell me when you are close, alright?” she said and he nodded, though the words took a bit to reach him.

She took his hand into hers and kissed it softly before she started moving over him, her hips now the ones going forward and back over him. Obito could not decide if his eyes should be open to watch the spectacle that was happening above him or if he needed them closed to enjoy the intensity of it all.

He’d touched himself, of course he had. Part of getting to know the realities of the world was getting to know your own realities. But his hand, even with lubricant, had not been as wet and warm as she was. Her hips ever so slightly moved forward. She was clearly taking it slow, probably because he had mentioned it was his first time. He didn’t want it to end quickly either, so he took his eyes off her face and to the ceiling.

This was definitely something he would take into his unending dream, he thought. This sensation, if from her or from anyone else, was absolutely worth keeping. It almost made him feel which just wasn’t anything he had for a while. It made him feel like himself, though who that was still seemed up in the air.

It took him maybe five more minutes until he reached the point in which he was nothing but a gasping mess. “Close”, was the only thing he said and realised he hadn’t spoken much since he’d threatened her what felt like hours ago. His voice was rough and deeper than the one Tobi had. She raised a brow at that, bowed forward to kiss his lips and then lifted herself up again.

Losing this intimate touch was like a sting to Obito’s heart but she rewarded him immediately again, by letting her mouth fall over his cock. The sensation wasn’t quite as strong, but it was electrifying nonetheless. Her tongue swirled over his tip and he gave in, filling her mouth so much that she coughed after he swallowed.

There was nothing that they could have cleaned themselves with, so she was just content to wipe her face with the back of her hand. Obito reached for her and she gladly let him take her into his arms. They remained like this for a while silently, just the light bouncing off the walls and reflecting in their eyes when they looked at each other.

How lucky was it that Tobi was a person who could talk to someone he was interested in, that he was funny and trustworthy and carefree. Tobi was free to do such things when he felt like it. He was not forced to be Madara or the Shadow Mizukage or the masked man. Tobi was Tobi. The painful realisation hung over Obito like a sword. This wasn’t him she was interested in, it was just another one of his fake personalities.

And now that his skin cooled down and the light got lower and the excitement faded, the reality was also back on his mind. This world was nothing but lies and deceit. He had led her on to come here for him, used her like she was nothing more than an experiment. Maybe Tobi was that sort of person, he thought, but Obito was not.

Her hand wandered up to his empty eye socket that he had covered with a patch. She traced the outline and looked at him, still her eyes shining in admiration. Obito didn’t want to lose the intimacy that he was craving so much, but he knew he was being unjust to her. The future for her might be bad enough, he didn’t need to pile onto it.

So he leaned down and held her chin up with his finger, while her hands framed his face again just like she had earlier in the evening. He touched her lips carefully, almost lovingly to let the sweet taste of her run through him one last time. She sighed and pulled him closer, urging to stay as near him as possible, but when he pulled away she opened her eyes to see nothing but a red fog.

– –

He couldn’t remove all her memories of him, too many people had seen her with Tobi every day when he couldn’t stop himself from visiting her. So he just altered it a little. When she woke in the morning, not far from the rocks at the beach, she assumed she’d just fallen asleep after the festival and nothing more. She went home early in the morning as if nothing had happened.

She continued selling oranges on that place at the beach, holding out for a long while in hopes that Tobi would come visit again, but in vain. Sometimes for no reason one or two or three oranges went missing when she wasn’t directly looking, but this made her none the wiser.

Meanwhile half across the continent in a much more damp place also surrounded by an ocean, a man started gaining a reputation. He was wearing a mask of bright orange, a swirl curving around his only eyehole. If she’d seen it, if she’d ever met him or heard about him, she would have instantly recognised him from that summer at the beaches, but she lived remotely and the shinobi world meant nothing to her.

The woman only saw Tobi again when some deep, powerful sleep took her away for a while. There he welcomed her as if he had missed her just as much as she had missed him.

#fanfiction things #malewife and girlboss central groupchat #uchiha obito #uchiha obito x reader #uchiha obito x you #naruto #naruto shippuuden #obito uchiha #yeha im not sur about this one but if hkzv likes it then i shall be ok with it

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nodirectionhome-ao3 · 11 months

Note

Hiyaaa I'm soo in love with KSFM. Can you please share a snippet of ch 23?

Thank you!!! 😊 I’ll give you the first scene.

(Apologies in advance, it’s angsty! Also, it’s unedited.)

Snippet below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

The sound of music filtered up from downstairs as Lily shut the door to the nursery. It wasn’t any song she recognized. The lyrics were incomprehensible to her, as though it was in a different language, which was…odd. They didn’t have any non-English records in their collection…not as far as Lily knew.

She sighed as she hurried down the stairs, her face breaking into a smile against her will as she rounded the corner to find James standing in the living room, swaying a little to the bouncing music. He grinned broadly as his eyes fell on her, making Lily’s heart flutter in its usual way. “I chose the wine,” he said, in a voice of feigned innocence, quirking his eyebrows as he held up two teeming glasses of red. He set them down carefully on the coffee table and stepped towards her.

“We have to turn the music down,” Lily complained, trying in vain to sound disapproving. “It’ll wake Harry. I just got him to sleep.”

James was right in front of her now, bending down a little so his face was dangerously close to hers. “He’ll be okay,” he said smoothly. “Happy Halloween, Lil.”

His arms circled around her, pulling her close until his breath ghosted across her lips, sending tingles down her spine. She stared hungrily into the eyes she’d fallen so disastrously for, her heart swelling in her chest at the deep wells of hazel that always brought her home.

James rested his forehead against hers, one of his hands sliding up to gently brush back her hair. Lily waited for him to close the distance, her eyes trailing down to look at his lips. But James just lingered there, breathing softly against her, and when Lily returned her gaze to his eyes…she felt something tighten inside her.

He looked…sad. His eyes had grown strangely misty, and as Lily stared into them…his million-Galleon smile began to fade.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing softly against her cheek. Slowly…consolingly. “I wish this was how this night went.”

Lily merely stared at him, unease prickling at the back of her neck. “What—”

“I’m sorry we didn’t get our happy ending.”

Lily swallowed, her heart suddenly beating very fast. “James,” she breathed. “I don’t—”

The music changed, growing louder and faster until it seemed to echo through the room, reverberating off the walls. James pulled away from her, and her waist felt cold when his arm disappeared.

“James—”

The music disappeared altogether, replaced at once by a horrible cacophony of laughter. A high-pitched noise that made the entire room shake and spin around her. The lights burned green out of nowhere, encasing the whole room in haunting shadows. And then…somewhere above the noise…Lily heard the sound of her baby crying.

She twisted around, panic squeezing at her heart, and found that the door was gone. She couldn’t leave the room…she couldn’t get to Harry…

She lunged forward, her hands pounding against the wall as Harry’s cries grew louder. But she couldn’t find an opening…she couldn’t help him…

“Lily…”

Lily turned, and the high-pitched laughter grew to an ear-splitting volume as her eyes landed on James. Standing in the middle of the room…his eyes wide as they stared at her.

“Lily…” he said again, his voice garbled and strained.

And then the light left his eyes…and Lily could do nothing but watch as they rolled back in his head…as he fell backwards towards the floor.

“No!” Lily screamed, rushing forward as her heart exploded. “No, James! JAMES!”

#kindly stopped for me #wip snippet #nightmare #my poor Lily I’m sorry #Jily…sort of

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thatfanficgurl · 11 months

Text

Chapter 5: What if I was Nothing

Silken droplets of guilt poured down from above. She leaned back against the cool metal of Jackie's garage door. What had she done? Why had every choice she made left nothing but crippling decay in its wake? He was with Misty now, not her. She made her choice ten years ago, and this was the consequence. It was hard enough for her to stomach the anguish on his face. Cera's stomach churned and bile rose in her throat. She felt guilty. She felt to blame. She had been to blame for so much, how much more heartache could she cause this man? How much more could she live with? She doubted she could really do either.

Jackie had left her temporarily to speak with a friend of his at el coyote about fixing up V's car. The rain was coming down harder now. Thunder danced seductively along the clouds, hidden somewhere in the night lights. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she sank to the ground. Fingertips dug into the soft skin of her triceps. Pressurized anger so deep that it caused her to bleed. So lost in her own thoughts and self loathing, she never saw Jackie approach.

Squatting on his knees, Jackie reached out, tilting her face so he could look into her eyes, "This isn't like you, chica. Come inside. Get outta this storm." Jackie slowly rose, Cera followed suit. He bent down momentarily, unlocking the garage door. Large strong hands pushed the garage door open, he turned with a smile to show her part of his world now. Misty was right, as much as he knew he hurt her. He needed to know if the Cera he knew was dead and gone. He had to know that the love was no longer there. But she stood out in the thundering storm. Jackie looked at her, concern and worry painted across his face, furrowing his brow. He reached out, fingertips grazing the knuckles on the back of her hand. "Cera?"

"I-I shouldn't have made a sound. I should have stayed silent." Cera stared down the alley in front of her. Her mind told her to run but she couldn't find it in her heart to go through with it. Not this time. "You should have-"

"Don't." his voice was stern as Jackie stepped back out into the rain. A little water wasn't going to hurt him. His fingertips caressed her cheek, the thumb of right hand carefully touched her lips. How he longed to kiss her... "Don't say it."

"But-" she started to protest when Jackie cupped her face in both of his hands.

"Cera, please. Don't say I should have left you there. In that scav den. I wouldn't have left anyone there. 'specially not you." His eyes scanned her face. He didn't find the cold heartless bitch his anger told him he'd find, there was genuine remorse there. "I jus' wanna know why. Por favor. Ayúdame a entender."

Cera pulled herself from his hands, stepping into the garage. High concrete ceilings decorated with posters of cars, Night City gangsters and scantily clad women. In the opening on the left side sat a motorcycle. A custom ARCH. Cera wasn't surprised. Jackie had been riding bikes since before she walked into his life. On the right side, sat a bench press. No wonder he kept so fit.

Her hands trailed along the edge of the metallic counter. Worn but well read was the weathered spine of a book beside where she stood. Picking it up, she instantly recognized the cover. For whom the bell tolls by Ernest Hemingway. Had she forgotten it? Opening the cover, there was the faintest hint of black ink from a pen weathered from time. "To my dearest Jaquito. With love, Cera." She whispered the words. "You kept this?" She asked, turning to see Jackie standing in the doorway of an additional add on room. Glancing over his shoulder, Cera could see a sofa pulled out into a make shift bed, a hand made sand mandala pushed into the corner of the room. There was a small desk behind a few lockers that had a standard sized computer on top of it.

Jackie leaned against the door casing, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. "Why wouldn't I? I loved you, Cera. That hasn't changed. No importa cuánto rompiste mi corazón". he looked at her through expressive green eyes. Jackie was always an intimidating brute of a man. Even when he was young. But that never stirred Cera away. That woman was fire walking along the edges of a storm. Captivating amber eyes that let you know exactly what was up.

"I never meant to. I never wanted that." Cera said, putting the book back down. Jackie turned and showed her the bed.

"Storms gettin' nastier outstide. The coyote is empty now if you want, I can sneak you in. Let you clean up in the bathroom. Then we can come back here n rest." she didn't have the energy to argue, so Cera nodded in agreement to his proposal. Swiftly, Jackie led her out of the garage, through the back door of the bar and to the bathroom. Upon entering, Cera took a good look at herself in the mirror. She was a wreck. Invisible stitches along her neck barely visible to the naked eye. Quickly, she stripped. washing herself with hand soap and water. She would be lying if she said she hadn't washed herself like a homeless person before. Cera would have been lying if she said she was never homeless. The warm water felt good against her skin. Closing her eyes, she imagined. Imagined his hot breath against her bare skin. Bodies pressed up against the shower wall. Lips locked revealing secrets that only angels could hear, silent whispers writing poetry on their skin. Her skin flushed with heat forcing her eyes back open. She was still so deeply in love with Jackie. Time nor distance had changed that. He was impossible not to love. Hands gripped the edge of the sink as she stared at her naked reflection. He still loved her. He still loved her... After all she had done. After all the hell she had wrought...she doubted she even deserved it.

Still, Cera got redressed, slipping out the back door and back out into the pouring rain. The walk back to the garage was brief, stepping inside she could see Jackie handing her a pair of clothes. "Thought you might wanna change." he handed her one of his black t-shirts and a pair of red and black basketball shorts. Cera took them with an appreciative nod. Turning from him, she shrugged off the black leather duster and hung it off the wall. Without thinking, she undid the belt buckle of her cargo pants and dropped them to the floor. Jackie's jaw however hit the fuckin' floor. Her body was incredible. Well toned legs trailed up to a shapely ass with an hour glass waist joytoy's dreamed of. A picturesque tattoo taking up most of her back. Up on her shoulder blades was a massive stained glass monarch butterfly leading down to a shadow of a black raven on her mid and lower back. Jackie watched her in awe, as she turned slightly and caught him looking. Abruptly, Jackie looked away as Cera giggled.

"You can look, ya know? It's not like you aren't my husband." Deliberately, Cera faced him. Peeling off her brown tank top, leaving her bare breasts for him to stare at before covering them with his t-shirt. The silky material stretched tightly over her chest accentuating the small curve of her breasts and how chilly she actually was.

She stepped into the room, laying down and enveloping herself beneath the heavy blankets. "Can-can I join you?" She heard Jackie ask. Rolling back over to face him, Cera's jaw dropped. Jackie had shut the garage door but stood in the doorway of the adjacent room. His shirt was off and he stood in a pair of black jeans. His trapeze muscle on his shoulders hulked in comparison to any other man she had ever seen. His chest was broad with pectorals so large that if she laid her hands on them, she'd feel small. He had an incredible six pack that only added to his goliath size. Cera blushed before pulling back the blankets, shifting herself farther down the mattress. As Jackie laid beside her, she instinctively rolled over with Jackie following suit. Curling one arm under his head, the other draped around her waist. Cera felt him release a relaxing breath as she closed her eyes. She did not dream though; she only remembered.

_________________________

Spanish to English Translation:

Por favor. Ayudame a entender - please help me understand

No importa cuanto rompiste mi corazon - No matter how much you broke my heart

#Spotify #fanfiction #cyberpunk fanfic #cyberpunk 2077 #adecentread #jackie x cera welles

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blackestnight · 1 year

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waking dreams

what if we… were in a never-ending nightmare sustained by eldritch gods as punishment for unspeakable sins… and i cut your head off .. aha ha, just kidding.. unless..?

nini and aoife reminded me of a thing i wrote for bloodborne au months ago but never actually got around to posting, which will make complete sense to one person, partial sense to about six other people, and no sense to anyone else, but you know what? it’s fine. you don’t need any context aside from my refrain of “DECAPITATION (ROMANTIC)” (this is also a content warning for decapitation (romantic))

The old workshop reeked, when Aymeric closed his eyes—of dust, rotting wood, candle wax, metal and oil and rust, both from the blades on the walls and the ever-present blood, in bottles and vials and ground into his clothes. The stillness in the building itself had always reminded him a bit of a church, with the workbench serving as an altar to the old gods of slaughter.

He felt shivers prickling up the skin of his neck, and took a deep breath. There was no danger here. None that he wasn’t willing to turn his back on, anyway.

When he opened his eyes again, the moonlight through the warped glass of the window caught on the swords left abandoned by their makers: cleavers, trick canes, a scythe flashing like a grim smile in the darkness, twin to the one Hanami was using now in the misty fields. She really was so skilled with it. What a mercy.

He shuddered again at the crunch of loose stone, and the creak of the floorboard behind him—when he turned, there she was, resplendent in her dark coat, her scythe held loosely in one hand. He supposed there was blood on her somewhere—it was unavoidable, in their line of work—but it wasn’t on the blade, which shone clean and bright.

“Come on,” she said, her voice as gentle as Aymeric had ever heard it, quiet as a grave.

He shook his head even as he took a step toward her. “I could—”

“No,” she told him, much firmer—oh, there was the flint in her eyes, ready to spark against steel. “I told you. Keep your hands clean. This is my work.”

“I know,” he insisted. Maybe this was what prayer felt like, for those more devout than he: a desperate plea to be heard, if just for a moment, by a power greater than he really understood. “But I…I do not wish to leave you alone. After.”

Hanami shifted her weight; her arm moved, too, a gentle tilt of her wrist to prop her scythe against her shoulder. “Let me worry about after,” she said. “I will make do. Are you ready?”

He took another deep breath (metal and dust and copper, from rust and from blood). The release left him feeling…deflated, somehow. It was pointless to fight her. She’d proved it, soundly, repeatedly, and—perhaps selfishly—he didn’t want to part on bad terms. Didn’t want to fight. It had been such a long, long night already.

“If you are,” he said, “then yes. I am.”

The garden surrounding the workshop reminded him of home, clearly having been lovely in its past life before being left to rot and decay in the darkness. The flowers had largely been replaced by headstones, which they wove between as Hanami led him around the hillside. Fog swirled around their ankles, making the whole landscape seem boundless; in the distance, beyond what he imagined were cliffs, there were abandoned ships’ masts canted at tired angles, a sort of forest of rigging and timber. He’d never heard any water here, but then this place was always unnaturally still. What flowers there were bent back to standing under their feet, so he couldn’t even mark the paths that she had walked before—couldn’t begin to guess where…

No matter.

Hanami led him along a meandering route through the greenery and the graves until they passed through the fence marking the boundaries of the workshop yard and into the open field. The scent of metal and rust faded into crushed grass and oncoming rain. The slope became gentler, smoother, a steady roll down into the fog and the drop, framed at its high point by the skeletal fingers of trees, and a pair of dirt mounds below it.

Fresh graves. Aymeric knew, with a certainty deeper than his marrow, that the long haft marking one would be Estinien’s rifle spear, and surely the glint at the head of the other would be from Ninira’s Tonitrus.

“On your knees,” Hanami said.

His sword would make a decent gravestone, he thought as he sank to his knees in the soft meadow grass. Better with the shield to lean against it and catch the light.

Aymeric considered closing his eyes, the better to breathe in the midnight dew and chlorophyll, and the faintest scent of sword oil and sweat, but he decided against it. The ground around him was clean, not a single blood-spatter to be found, and with the moon before him and the very edges of the trees guarding his view of the gentle slope down into the fog, he could think of few things he would rather watch as he died.

“Thank you,” he said, unable to force his voice above a whisper. It was such a stunning view. He wondered whether Hanami had taken such care to scout out places to lead Ninira and Estinien—marveled at her care in her execution.

The air was still, so he could hear her every step as she rustled the flowers underfoot. He bowed his head. “No,” she said, “keep your head straight.” It was her glove, not her sword, which brushed his jawline, lifting his chin.

He did as she asked, rolling his shoulders back—perfect posture. The silver light washed over him like icewater.

“Count back from ten,” she said.

He smiled. “Ten,” he said. Her boot crunched in the grass behind him. Aymeric thought, if the moon always looked this lovely, he could understand why some men felt compelled to worship it. “Nine.”

Hanami was a swift and merciful hunter. He never even made it to eight.

#writing - mine #bloodborne au #oc: hanami hagane #final fantasy xiv #decapitation (romantic)#hanami when they first met: i'm gonna cut your head off #hanami at the end of the night: cuts his head off #we love consistency #s: a minor justice #aymeric de borel #also sorry nini and estinien she got you too :(

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cotton-candy-haze · 1 year

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fiona harrington when robin and steve are high off their asses in the bathroom? -bibaybe

Fiona was visiting her brother at work when he got roped into translating a secret Russian code, which somehow led to her getting trapped under the mall and almost kidnapped by Russians. It’s times like these that really make her wish she was an only child... or maybe not.

Fiona stared at the bathroom door as it slammed shut behind Robin and Steve’s retreating forms. For a moment, she contemplated just leaving them there to fend for themselves—she hadn’t signed up to babysit two idiots while they were high on some sort of damn Russian truth serum and she really, really didn’t want to deal with this—but then she realized that she would probably have to explain how her older brother ended up dead in a public bathroom drugged out of his mind if she left them alone in there. Staring up at the ceiling, she weighed out her options and ultimately decided against making an escape. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, she walked up to the bathroom and nudged the door open.

“Hey Stevie, you guys alive in here?” Fiona called out as she finally stepped into the bathroom. Her eyes darted between the two stalls where Robin and Steve were currently barfing their guts up. She scrunched her nose up in disgust and shuffled slightly closer to the stall her brother was curled up in when it seemed like the wave of nausea had passed. “Steve?”

“Fionaaa, my favorite sister,” Steve slurred and whipped his head around to look at her. Glassy eyes struggled to track her, but eventually landed somewhere to the right of her head. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m your only sister, numbnuts. And I’m here because I don’t feel like leaving you two to die on this grody bathroom floor.” Fiona stopped in the opening of the stall and crossed her arms against her chest. Her eyes darted around the stall before eventually landing on her brother’s beaten face. Her expression softened a fraction and she sighed. “You’re lucky I love you, Stevie.”

“Aww, I love you too Fee.” Steve grinned and reached out for her with one hand, although he overshot it and ended up swiping at the open air. He pouted, squinted his eyes, and tried reaching for her again. “Sit with meee. Please?”

Fiona rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at her lips. She grabbed Steve’s extended arm by the wrist and nudged him gently. “Alright, fine. Scoot over then.”

Steve’s smile somehow grew even wider as he scooted across the tiled floor to make room for Fiona. She gave a huff of laughter and sat down next to him, only letting herself think about how disgusting this was for a second before she pushed the thought away. As soon as she was settled with her back pressed against the wall, Steve threw an arm around her shoulders in an awkward sideways hug. She shook her head, let out another tiny laugh, and gave his hand a gentle pat.

“You’re a good little sister,” Steve mumbled before he dropped his head heavily against her shoulder. His bruised eye protested the movement and he let out a hiss of pain, but he didn’t lift his head. “Doesn’t even matter that you’re adopted. Never mattered. Always been my little sister. Doesn’t matter...”

“Thanks Steve,” Fiona replied quietly. She was still smiling at him, but her eyes had gone a little bit misty. She sniffed and rubbed at her face with the corner of her sleeve.

“Shit, I’m not s’posed to say that.” Steve suddenly looked very concerned as he jerked his head up. He stared at Fiona, his brows furrowed as he struggled to string words together in an order that made sense. “Not s’posed to tell anyone how they got you. They’ll be mad. Not allowed to talk about it. Don’t tell ‘em Fee, don’t tell ‘em what I said.”

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone,” she reassured in a gentle tone. She scrubbed at her face again, wiping away the growing dampness under her eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Fiona gave him a watery smile and held out her extended pinky, just like she always did when they were kids. Steve immediately lifted his own hand and wrapped his pinky around hers. They sat like that for a moment longer before Steve grinned and dropped his head against Fiona’s shoulder again.

“You’re my favorite sister.”

#phenomenal scene selection #also this ask game is wonderful for giving me an excuse to write little snippets like this #fiona harrington: stranger things oc #ask the ocs #answered #KB 💚

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rainywerewolfmoon · 7 months

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Rule of Fairyland

Ao3 link here Rule of Fairyland - Chapter 10 - Princessmh9 - Multifandom [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 10: Growing Love and Promise

{The next moon}

{"Genevieve. Genevieve, Genevieve." Somewhere someone was calling her, but who she couldn't work out. As Genevieve looked around her the forest, she was walking started to become misty. She looks around her as she starts to walk carefully her nighty carefully wrapping around her frame as he rose petal slippers stepped onto the moss. "Genevieve, Genevieve, Genevieve" the voice called out again. In the distance she could see a figure standing in the mist near atop of a ditch near some massive trees. "Who is there" she calls out. She starts to walk closer, but something tells her to stop. "What's wrong Genevieve are you afraid?" She looks at where the figure was but was no longer there. As she turns around, she gasped as Princess Dala stands in front of her. "Thought you could get away from me hum? Well think again." Before Genevieve could do anything Dala stabs her where her baby is growing, and Genevieve screams loudly and then she wakes up in her bed covered in sweat screaming and breathing hard.

Ash jolts awake looking at Geneveive in a panic as he tries to comfort her.}

{Ash} Whoa whoa love. Its ok. Its ok. Your safe.

{He hugs her trying to comfort her}

{The door of their bedroom opens and in rushes Oberon Titania and Kendra with worry.}

{Titania} We heard screaming. Is everything ok?

{Oberon} What happened?

{Genevieve bursting into tears} My baby. She killed my baby.

{Oberon Gently approaches Genevieve, concern etched across his features.} Genevieve, my dear, it was just a dream. You and your baby are safe here.

{Titania Joins Ash in comforting Genevieve, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.} Dreams can be haunting, but they don't define reality.

{Kendra Steps forward, her kind eyes full of sympathy.} You're not alone, Genevieve. We're here for you.

{Genevieve Clings to Ash and Titania, her tears soaking into their shoulders.} It felt so real, the pain... I can still feel it.

{Ash Strokes her hair gently, holding her close.} I know it felt real, but remember, it was just a dream. You and our baby are safe, right here, right now. I will even fetch Reed for you if you like?

{Genevieve looks at him with watery eyes} Yes please Ash.

{Kendra} I will fetch him.

{She runs out of the room.}

{Oberon Gazes at Genevieve with a mixture of concern and determination.} We'll do whatever it takes to keep you and your baby safe, Genevieve. Dreams can't harm you here.

{Titania Nods in agreement.} Oberon's right. We'll make sure of it.

{Genevieve Takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to steady herself.} Thank you, all of you. I don't know what I'd do without you.

{Ash Presses a soft kiss to her forehead.} You don't have to worry alone, love. We're your family, and we're here for you.

{Kendra returns with Reed as he rushes to her side.}

{Reed} Your highness, I heard you quite a dream. What can I do for you?

{Ash} Can you check on our little one please.

{Genevieve} I need to know if my baby is safe. The dream it felt so real.

{Reed nodding his head.} And can you tell me about this dream your highness?

{Genevieve} {Takes a deep breath, her hands still trembling slightly from the remnants of her distressing dream.} It was... vivid. I was in a misty forest, and someone was calling my name—Genevieve. I couldn't see who it was, but I heard the voice. Then, I saw a figure in the distance by some trees, and I walked towards it. But there was this feeling that I should stop, something warning me.

{Kendra Listens attentively, concern evident in her eyes.}

{Genevieve Continues, her voice shaky.} The figure disappeared, and then suddenly, Princess Dala was in front of me. She was... menacing. Before I could react, she... she stabbed me where the baby is growing. I felt the pain, Reed, it was unbearable.

{Reed Listens carefully, his expression empathetic.} Dreams can evoke intense emotions, but they're not reality. They can draw from our fears and anxieties.

{Ash} {Squeezes Genevieve's hand reassuringly.} We just want to make sure our baby is safe, Reed.

{Reed Nods.} Of course. Let me check.

{Reed} {places a gentle hand on Genevieve's belly, closing his eyes briefly as if focusing on something. After a moment, he opens his eyes and looks at Genevieve with a reassuring smile.}

{Reed} Your baby is perfectly fine. I can sense a strong and steady heartbeat. The dream, as distressing as it was, didn't harm your child.

{Genevieve} {Lets out a shaky sigh of relief, tears forming in her eyes.} Thank you, Reed.

{Ash Offers a soft smile, relief evident in his eyes.}

{Reed Turns his gaze to Genevieve.} It's clear that the events of the past with Princess Dala have left a profound impact on you, and your subconscious mind is processing those emotions through your dreams. Dreams can be a way for our minds to address unresolved emotions and fears. Your mind might be attempting to make sense of the lingering anxiety related to Princess Dala.

{Kendra adding softly} It's important to acknowledge those feelings, Genevieve. It's a part of healing.

{Genevieve taking a deep breath, appreciating the wisdom of those around her.} I've been trying to move forward, to focus on the happiness in my life now. But the dream felt like a step back.

{Ash squeezes her hand, his voice filled with unwavering support.} You've come so far, love. One dream doesn't undo your progress.

{Reed nods in agreement.} Exactly, Ash is right. Healing isn't linear. It's normal to have moments that bring up old fears. What matters is how you continue to face them.

{Genevieve looks at them as she places her hand on her belly and starts to stroke it.

{Genevieve} thankyou Reed.

{Kendra} Genevieve, you have a strong support system here. Lean on us whenever you need to.

{Genevieve takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the reassurances from those around her.} I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you all for being here for me.

{Ash holds her hand tighter.} We're a family, and we're here to face everything together.

{In the presence of her loved ones and Reed's guidance, Genevieve starts to feel the lingering fear from the dream gradually subside. While the dream was unsettling, the unity and care of her companions remind her that she's not alone in facing her fears and uncertainties.}

{Oberon squeezes her hand gently.} Now, try to rest. The night is over, and a new day will come.

{Titania arranges the blankets around Genevieve, tucking her in with care.} If you ever need to talk or if the dreams trouble you again, don't hesitate to reach out.

{Kendra offers a reassuring nod.} You're never alone in this, Genevieve.

{Genevieve slowly relaxes, feeling the support of those around her.} Thank you. I'll try to sleep again.

{As the others leave the room, Genevieve lies back down, Ash still holding her hand. The echoes of the dream begin to fade, replaced by the warmth of the people who care about her. With their presence and love, she finds the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead, both in her waking world and in the realm of dreams.}

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

{As Ash woke up a few hours later he turns to look at Genevieve, her face glowed in the light of the dawn. He reaches up and moves some of her hair out of her face. Genevieve stirs slightly at the touch of Ash's fingers in her hair and the soft kiss on her forehead. She smiles faintly in her half-asleep state, basking in the warmth of his affectionate words.

He leans over and kisses her forehead softly.}

{Ash softly} You are just so perfect for me my Genevieve and I can't wait to meet our baby.

{Ash watches her for a moment with a fond smile before quietly getting dressed. His actions are careful not to disturb her peaceful slumber.

As the morning sun gradually fills the room with light, the anticipation of a new day and the future ahead lingers in the air. The love and excitement that Ash feels for both Genevieve and their unborn child are palpable, a beautiful testament to the bond they share. He turns to look at her one last time as he puts his circlet on his forehead and quietly walks out of the room.

The castle awakens with the soft embrace of the morning, and as Ash leaves their room, the echoes of his love and anticipation remain. The sense of purpose guides him as he adorns his circlet, symbolizing his role and responsibilities. The quietness of the morning holds a special kind of magic, the calm before the bustling day.

In the throne room, Oberon and Titania, await with a mixture of regal grace and genuine care for their subjects. As Ash enters, they turn their attention to him, acknowledging his presence with nods of respect.}

{Oberon speaks with a dignified tone, his eyes reflecting a mix of wisdom and authority.} Ash, the day begins anew. How fares Genevieve?

{Ash offers a respectful bow before them, his expression holding a sense of duty and love.} She rests peacefully, my king. Last night was...eventful, but we managed to find solace in the comfort of each other.

{Titania smiles warmly, her presence exuding both regality and maternal care.} You two share a bond that's a testament to the strength of your love.

{Ash nods, his gaze steady as he meets the eyes of his rulers.} Indeed, Your Majesties. The challenges we face only serve to strengthen our resolve.

{Oberon places a hand on his chest, a gesture of camaraderie.} Your loyalty and dedication to our kingdom and your family have not gone unnoticed, Ash.

{Titania speaks with genuine affection.} And we're grateful for your presence and the happiness you bring to Genevieve's life.

{Ash offers a grateful smile, a touch of humility in his expression.} Thank you, Your Majesties. I'm honored to serve.

{The connection between Ash and the royal couple reflects the intricate tapestry of the realm they reside in. With the morning light casting its gentle glow upon the scene, the day begins with a sense of purpose and unity, bound by the ties of love and responsibility.}

{Genevieve lets out a sleepy moan as she awakens, her movements languid as she turns onto her stomach. The morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm and bright glow into the room.

The contrast between the brightness outside and the cocoon of her bed makes her squint a little, adjusting to the new day. She moans again as she burys her head under the pillow for a moment. Genevieve lets out another soft groan, her movements slow and careful as she adjusts to the discomfort in her stomach. The mix of feelings—nuisance and pain—creates a complex wave of sensations that she's familiar with. She takes a moment to steady her breathing, trying to ease the discomfort.}

{Genevieve talking to herself.} Come on get it together. You managed so far not to threw up.

{She closes her eyes as she takes deep breaths trying to calm her stomach.}

{Genevieve's inner dialogue} You've managed so far, don't let this discomfort get the best of you.

{Genevieve's determination shines through as she tries to gather herself. With deep breaths and a pep talk, she attempts to calm her stomach and push past the urge to vomit.}

However, the discomfort persists, and she finally concedes, letting out a frustrated sigh. Slowly and carefully, she makes her way to the bathroom, her steps measured as she navigates through the unease.

As she reaches the bathroom sink, she turns on the faucet, allowing the cool water to run over her hands. She splashes some on her face, hoping the sensation will help distract from the nausea. Closing her eyes again, she focuses on the rhythm of her breathing, a technique she's honed over time to manage these moments.

Despite the challenges she faces, Genevieve's resilience shines through in her determination to find ways to cope and carry on. And as the water flows and her breathing steadies, there's a sense of quiet strength that permeates the morning, an unwavering reminder that she's faced tougher battles and come out victorious.

With a sense of purpose, Genevieve moves to her dressing table, taking a seat with graceful resolve. The act of brushing her ginger locks becomes a comforting routine, a simple task that connects her with a sense of normalcy amid the challenges she faces.

As the bristles glide through her hair, the gentle tugs provide a grounding sensation, reminding her of the tangible aspects of her life that remain constant. The soft rhythm of the brush against her strands creates a soothing cadence, allowing her mind to find a semblance of tranquility.

Genevieve's gaze moves from her brush to her wardrobe, the array of clothing options laid out before her. The choice of what to wear may seem mundane, but it's also a choice that reflects her mood and mindset for the day ahead.

Her eyes scan over the collection of dresses, tops, and leggings, each piece holding memories and stories of the moments she's worn them. As she contemplates her options, her expression shifts, reflecting the internal dialogue she's having.

She considers the practicality and comfort of each choice, balancing her desire to look put together with her need to ensure that her clothing won't exacerbate any discomfort she might be feeling. The simple act of selecting an outfit becomes a delicate balance of self-care and self-expression.

She decides that a brown leaf legging and a loose-fitting, forest green tunic will be her choice for the day. The earthy tones seem to resonate with her, embodying a sense of groundedness and connection to the world around her.

Genevieve carefully slips into the leggings, the fabric hugging her frame comfortably. The leggings, adorned with a delicate pattern of leaves, bring a touch of nature into her attire. As she pulls on the loose tunic, its soft fabric drapes gracefully around her, allowing for easy movement and a sense of flow.

She pulls on a pair of comfortable leather boots, completing her ensemble. The boots provide not only a touch of practicality but also a sense of groundedness, reinforcing her connection to the earth beneath her. She then picks up her circlet and places it on her forehead.

With the outfit chosen, she stands before the mirror, taking in her reflection. The combination of brown and green seems to mirror the strength and resilience she carries within her. Her ginger hair cascades over her shoulders, adding warmth to the ensemble.

As Genevieve frowns and turns to her side, her actions are filled with a mix of emotions—perhaps a moment of introspection and connection with herself. The gentle gesture of pulling up her top to reveal her stomach is intimate, and her hands resting there symbolize a deep bond with the life growing within her.

Her smile, accompanied by tears, speaks volumes. It's a smile of wonder, of joy, and of the overwhelming love she feels for the new life that's beginning to make itself known. The tiny but notable bump on her stomach is a tangible reminder of the journey she's embarked upon, a visual representation of the life that's taking shape within her.

In this private and emotional moment, the room seems to hold its breath, as if honoring the significance of what's unfolding. The tears in Genevieve's eyes reflect the depth of her emotions, and the smile on her lips is a radiant expression of the love that's blooming along with that tiny bump—a love that's both a promise and a miracle.}

{Genevieve softly} You are making yourself known my little one. Daddy will be ever so happy when he finds out you are starting to show yourself.

{Genevieve's words hang in the air, carrying with them a sense of wonder and anticipation. Her touch remains gentle on her stomach, as if conveying her affection directly to the growing life within. The morning sunlight dances across the room, lending an ethereal quality to the moment.

In the quietude, Genevieve's heart seems to speak through her words, echoing the joy and hope that have taken root within her. The prospect of Ash's reaction to the news of her pregnancy becoming more visible adds an extra layer of excitement to the journey ahead.

As she stands there, a woman on the cusp of motherhood, surrounded by the love she shares with Ash and the promise of new life, Genevieve's whispered sentiment becomes a thread that weaves through the tapestry of their lives—a thread of love, connection, and the anticipation of the beautiful moments yet to come.}

{Ash's heart races with a mixture of excitement and anticipation as he nears the room he's been preparing for the nursery. He's filled it with love and care, envisioning the future he and Genevieve will share with their child. The element of surprise adds an extra layer of joy to the moment.

However, as he approaches the room, he hears Genevieve's footsteps approaching, and a touch of panic tugs at his thoughts. He doesn't want her to see the room just yet, not until he's ready to reveal his surprise.

Thinking quickly, he retreats slightly, seeking a spot where he can wait and intercept her before she reaches the room. His heart beats faster with each passing second, and a smile tugs at his lips as he readies himself to share the joy of the surprise he's been meticulously planning.

As Genevieve's footsteps draw closer, Ash's heart races in tandem with his thoughts. He spots a corner nearby, partially hidden from her view, and positions himself there, waiting for the perfect moment to intercept her.

Just as she comes into view, he steps out with a grin on his face, his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Genevieve," he calls out, his voice a mix of surprise and delight.}

{Genevieve halts in her tracks, her eyes widening in response to Ash's sudden appearance. She offers a warm smile, her curiosity piqued.} Ash? What are you doing here?

{Ash steps closer to her, his grin growing wider.} I could ask you the same thing. What brings you to this part of the castle?

{Genevieve chuckles softly, her gaze dancing with amusement.} I was looking for you. There is something I want to show you.

{Ash curiously} Oh what is that love?

{Genevieve's chuckle resonates with warmth, the playful glint in her eyes a reflection of her joyful mood. As Ash's curiosity is piqued, she takes his hand and places it on her stomach, where the bump has become noticeable, her gaze fixed on him with a mixture of excitement and tenderness.}

{Ash feels the gentle pressure of her hand guiding his, his eyes widening in realization as he feels the slight protrusion beneath his touch. He looks at Genevieve with a mix of astonishment and delight.} Genevieve...is this...?

{Genevieve nods, her smile radiant as she confirms his unspoken question.} Yes, Ash. Our little one is making their presence known.

{Ash stares at her in awe, his hand on her stomach, as if trying to connect with the miracle unfolding within her. His voice carries a mix of emotions, from wonder to sheer happiness.} I can feel them. Our baby...

{As Ash's emotions well up, his touch remains gentle on Genevieve's stomach. The reality of their baby's presence beneath his hand is a deeply moving experience, one that words can hardly capture. His gaze shifts from her stomach to her eyes, a mixture of gratitude and wonder in his expression.}

{Ash swallows the lump in his throat, his voice soft and heartfelt.} Genevieve, this... I can't even begin to describe how much this means to me. To feel our baby, our little one... It's a gift beyond words.

{Genevieve gazes at him, her heart brimming with love for the man before her. Her own eyes shimmer with unshed tears of joy.} Ash, this is our journey, our shared miracle. I wanted you to feel this moment too, to be connected with our baby in this way.

{Ash lifts his hand slightly, his thumb gently brushing over the bump. He smiles, his voice a mixture of reverence and affection.} I'm connected, more than I could have imagined. To think that this little life, our creation, is growing here... It's humbling, it's beautiful. I couldn't ask for a better person to be the mother of my child.

{Genevieve's heart swells with emotion as she listens to Ash's words. His touch on her stomach, his thumb brushing over the bump, seems to bridge the gap between them and the new life they're nurturing together. His words resonate deeply, carrying a sense of awe and gratitude that mirrors her own feelings.}

{Genevieve gazes at Ash, her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness. Her voice is filled with tenderness as she responds, her touch remaining gentle on his hand.} And I couldn't ask for a better partner to share this journey with. Your love, your support—it means everything to me.

{In this quiet moment, the love they share becomes a bridge that connects them to the wonder of the life growing within Genevieve. The sunlight filtering through the corridor seems to embrace them, as if the universe itself is celebrating their connection, their love, and the promise of the future they're nurturing together.}

{Ash's gaze remains locked with Genevieve's, his thumb continuing to brush over the bump as if he's communicating with their baby through touch. His voice is soft but filled with uncontainable joy.} We're creating a family, Genevieve. Our love is weaving a new story, and this little one is the embodiment of that story. Every moment from here on out is an adventure, a journey we'll take together as a family.

{Genevieve's smile grows, her tears of happiness reflecting the depth of her emotions. She reaches up to gently cup Ash's cheek, her touch tender.} I can't wait to see you as a father, Ash. Our child is lucky to have you, and I'm lucky to have you by my side.

{Ash leans into her touch, his eyes closing momentarily as he absorbs the warmth and love in her words. He opens his eyes again, his gaze filled with determination and a promise.} I'll do everything in my power to be the best father I can be, to create a home filled with love, laughter, and support. Our child will know that they're cherished beyond measure.

{Genevieve's voice is a whisper, her words carrying a weight of emotion.} I have no doubt about that, Ash. You already fill our lives with so much love.

{Their hands remain connected, bridging the gap between them and the life they've created together. Their shared moment feels timeless, as if the world has paused to honor the significance of this milestone.}

{Ash takes a step closer, his free hand gently cradling Genevieve's cheek as he leans in to press a soft, tender kiss against her lips. The kiss holds the promise of a future filled with love and joy, a future they'll navigate hand in hand.}

{Genevieve's heart swells as their lips meet, the kiss carrying all the emotions that words can't convey. It's a kiss that speaks of their shared journey, their unbreakable bond, and the anticipation of the family they're building together.}

{As they pull back from the kiss, their foreheads touch, and their breaths mingle in the quiet space between them. The corridor seems to hold its breath, as if absorbing the love that radiates from their connection.}

{Ash whispers, his voice a gentle caress.} Our love story is evolving, Genevieve. From the moment we met to this very instant, and beyond. And this... {He places a hand on her stomach once again, his smile tender.} This is the next chapter, a chapter we'll write together.

{Genevieve's eyes lock with his, her smile radiant and her heart full. Her voice carries a mix of emotion and certainty.} I can't wait to see where this chapter takes us, Ash. With you by my side, I know it'll be a beautiful journey.

{In this shared moment, surrounded by the love they hold for each other and the promise of the life they're nurturing, time seems to stand still. The echoes of their words, the warmth of their touch, and the depth of their connection paint a picture of a future that's bound by love, woven with hope, and illuminated by the light of their unwavering bond.}

And as they stand there, in the corridor bathed in sunlight and in each other's arms, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the promise of the next chapter of their love story—a chapter that will be written with every heartbeat, every smile, and every moment of togetherness.}

#the fairyland

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

Text

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

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percabeth4life · 3 years

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i want to know the original version of hades and persephone story. there are so many versions I've read and i wanted to know which one do you believe in or which one do you think is the real one?

Okay so to start with. If we wanna really go back, Hades came into existence after Persephone. But alas, we aren't speaking of this version.

We are talking about the version where Hades sweeps Persephone away without so much as a hello.

The problem is a lot of the stories of Ancient Greece are well... They're lost. They were primarily shared through oral tradition, and written down over time. And so many stories we may not know. On top of that, many that were written down were lost, destroyed or just vanished, to time. Plus, we don't know how to translate Linear A, but we do Linear B, and there may be a version somewhere in Linear A. Overall, it's just possible we don't know the earlier versions.

But the earliest version we do have is from the Homeric Hymn, from the 7th or 6th B.C.E. This hymn is actually one to Demeter, not Hades or Persephone. The myth, while speaking of the two, is actually about Demeter.

It is, for the time period it is from (and you must keep in mind the culture of the time to understand the myth) a feminist myth.

So the culture of the time.

In the time period women did not have the greatest of rights, something improved upon today, but it means that the Father (and/or King) had full rights to hand their daughters off to another man.

That is what happens in this myth, Zeus tells Hades he may have Persephone's hand... But Persephone did not wish to go. And likewise Demeter was not informed.

By the culture of the time that does not matter, but Demeter *makes* it matter. She searches for her daughter first, then when she discovers where Persephone was taken and who was the cause (Zeus) she is angered.

Demeter then refuses to step upon Olympus, not allow any plants to grow, until she sees her daughter again.

This is obviously a problem, so Zeus sends Hermes down to retrieve Persephone (who btw was unhappy and missed her mom). Persephone leaps up with joy to see her mother again and Hades agrees immediately. But he secretly feeds her pomegranate seeds just to be sure she would return.

The reason this is a feminist myth is because of Demeter, because she refused to accept her king and her daughter's father handing their daughter off in marriage. And she refused to such an extent that they had no choice but to compromise with her (and had Hades not forced Persephone to have the pomegranate seed she wouldn't have even had to compromise).

For the culture of the time, Zeus and Hades were taking actions that were more than okay, nothing they did would be considered wrong. But Demeter stood against it.

Demeter stood for her daughter to not be married off, and demanded she be returned, and Persephone (tho she came to love Hades) was relieved to return to her mother.

Many of the "new adaptions" have Persephone wanting to leave Demeter, wanting to be with her husband, and Demeter being overbearing. But originally it was mutual love, Mother and Daughter missing each other and the Mother fighting to get her daughter back when everything of the time said she had no right to.

And so the myth as we know occurs. This is the myth I ascribe too, being the oldest we have, and I do wish more realized how Demeter's actions are why the myth is so important.

I have copied the Hymn in it's entirety below the cut. It is fairly long and four parts. If you have questions about it, feel free to ask!

Homeric Hymn 2 to Demeter (abridged) (trans. Evelyn-White) (Greek epic C7th or 6th B.C.) :

I. HAIDES ABDUCTS PERSEPHONE

"[Demeter's] trim-ankled daughter whom Aidoneus [Haides] rapt away, given to him by all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer. Apart from Demeter, lady of the golden sword and glorious fruits, she was playing with the deep-bosomed daughters of Okeanos and gathering flowers over a soft meadow, roses and crocuses and beautiful violets, irises also and hyacinths and the narcissus, which Gaia (the Earth) made to grow at the will of Zeus and to please Polydektor (Host of Many), to be a snare for the bloom-like girl--a marvellous, radiant flower. It was a thing of awe whether for deathless gods or mortal men to see: from its root grew a hundred blooms and it smelled most sweetly, so that all wide heaven (ouranos) above and the whole earth (gaia) and the sea's (thalassa) salt swell laughed for joy. And the girl was amazed and reached out with both hands to take the lovely toy : but the wide-pathed earth yawned there in the plain of Nysa, and the lord, Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides], with his immortal horses sprang out upon her--the Son of Kronos (Cronus), Polynomos (He Who has Many Names).

He caught her up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. Then she cried out shrilly with her voice, calling upon her father [Zeus], the Son of Kronos, who is most high and excellent. But no one, either of the deathless gods or mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tender-hearted Hekate (Hecate), bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaios (Persaeus), heard the girl from her cave, and the lord Helios (the Sun), Hyperion's bright son, as she cried to her father, the Son of Kronos. But he was sitting aloof, apart from the gods, in his temple where many pray, and receiving sweet offerings from mortal men. So he [Haides], that Son of Kronos, Polynomos (Of Many Names), Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) and Polydegmon (Host of Many), was bearing her away by leave of Zeus on his immortal chariot--his brother's child and all unwilling.

And so long as she, the goddess, yet beheld earth and starry heaven and the strong-flowing sea where fishes shoal, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to see her dear mother and the tribes of the eternal gods, so long hope clamed her great heart for all her trouble . . . and the heights of the mountains and the depths of the sea ran with her immortal voice : and her queenly mother heard her.

II. DEMETER SEARCHES FOR PERSEPHONE

"Bitter pain seized her [Demeter's] heart, and she rent the covering upon her divine hair with her dear hands : her dark cloak she cast down from both her shoulders and sped, like a wild-bird, over the firm land and yielding sea, seeking her child. But no one would tell her the truth, neither god nor mortal man; and of the birds of omen none came with true news for her. Then for nine days queenly Deo wandered over the earth with flaming torches in her hands, so grieved that she never tasted ambrosia and the sweet draught of nektaros, nor sprinkled her body with water. But when the tenth enlightening dawn had come, Hekate, with a torch in her hands, met her, and spoke to her and told her news : ‘Queenly Demeter, bringer of seasons and giver of good gifts, what god of heaven (theon ouranion) or what mortal man has rapt away Persephone and pierced with sorrow your dear heart? For I heard her voice, yet saw not with my eyes who it was. But I tell you truly and shortly all I know.’

So, then, said Hekate. And [Demeter] the daughter of rich-haired Rheia answered her not, but sped swiftly with her, holding flaming torches in her hands. So they came to Helios (the Sun), who is watchman of both gods and men, and stood in front of his horses: and the bright goddess enquired of him : ‘Helios, do you at least regard me, goddess as I am, if ever by word or deed of mine I have cheered your heart and spirit. Through the fruitless air (aitheros) I heard the thrilling cry of my daughter whom I bare, sweet scion of my body and lovely in form, as of one seized violently; though with my eyes I saw nothing. But you--for with your beams you look down from the bright upper air (aitheros) over all the earth and sea--tell me truly of my dear child if you have seen her anywhere, what god or mortal man has violently seized her against her will and mine, and so made off.’

So said she. And the Son of Hyperion [Helios] answered her : ‘Queen Demeter, daughter of rich-haired Rheia, I will tell you the truth; for I greatly reverence and pity you in your grief for your trim-ankled daughter. None other of the deathless gods is to blame, but only cloud-gathering Zeus who gave her to Aides, her father's brother, to be called his buxom wife. And Aides seized her and took her loudly crying in his chariot down to his realm of mist and gloom. Yet, goddess, cease your loud lament and keep not vain anger unrelentingly : Aidoneus Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) is no unfitting husband among the deathless gods for your child, being your own brother and born of the same stock: also, for honour, he has that third share which he received when division was made at the first, and is appointed lord of those among whom he dwells.’

So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds. But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with [Zeus] the dark-clouded Son of Kronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympos. She [Demeter] vowed that she would never set foot on fragrant Olympos nor let fruit spring out of the ground until she beheld with her eyes her own fair-faced daughter.

III. THE RETURN OF PERSEPHONE

"Now when all-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer heard this, he sent Argeiphontes [Hermes] whose wand is of gold to Erebos, so that having won over Aides with soft words, he might lead forth chaste Persephoneia to the light from the misty gloom to join the gods, and that her mother might see her with her eyes and cease from her anger. And Hermes obeyed, and leaving the house of Olympos, straightway sprang down with speed to the hidden places of the earth. And he found the lord Aides in his house seated upon a couch, and his shy mate with him, much reluctant, because she yearned for her mother. But she was afar off, brooding on her fell design becuase of the deeds of the blessed gods. And strong Argeiphontes [Hermes] drew near and said : ‘Dark-haired Aides, ruler over the departed, father Zeus bids me bring noble Persephone forth from Erebos unot the gods, that her mother may see her with her eyes and cease from her dread anger with the immortals; for now she plans an awful deed, to destroy the weakly tribes of earth-born men by keeping seed hidden beneath the earth, and so she makes an end of the honours of the undying gods. For she keeps fearful anger and does not consort with the gods, but sits aloof in her fragrant temple, dwelling in the rocky hold of Eleusis.’

So he said. And Aidoneus, ruler over the dead, smiled grimly and obeyed the behest of Zeus the king. For he straightway urged wise Persephone, saying : ‘Go now, Persephoneia, to your dark-robed mother, go, and feel kindly in your heart towards me : be not so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless dods, that am own brother to father Zeus. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods : those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, reverently performing rites and paying fit gifts, shall be punished for evermore.’

When he said this, wise Persephoneia was filled with joy and hastily sprang up for gladness. But he on his part secretly gave her sweet pomegranate seed to eat, taking care for himself that she might not remain continually with grave, dark-robed Demeter. Then Aidoneus Polysemantor (Ruler of Many) openly got ready his deathless horses beneath the golden chariot. And she mounted on the chariot, and strong Argeiphontes [Hermes] took reins and whip in his dear hands and drove forth from the hall, the horses speeding readily. Swiftly they traversed their long course, and neither the sea nor river-waters nor grassy glens nor mountain-peaks checked the career of the immortal horses, but they cleft the deep air above them as they went. And Hermes brought them to the place where rich-crowned Demeter was staying and checked them before her fragrant temple.

And when Demeter saw them, she rushed forth as does a Mainas (Maenad) down some thick-wooded mountain, while Persephone on the other side, when she saw her mother's sweet eyes, left the chariot and horses, and leaped down to run to her, and falling upon her neck, embraced her. But while Demeter was still holding her dear child in her arms, her heart suddenly misgave her for some snare, so that she feared greatly and ceased fondling her daughter and asked of her at once : ‘My child, tell me, surely you have not tasted any food while you were below? Speak out and hide nothing, but let us both know. For if you have not, you shall come back from loathly Aidao and live with me and your father [Zeus], the dark-clouded Son of Kronos and be honoured by all the deathless gods; but if you have tasted food, you must fo back again beneath the secret places of the earth, there to dwell a third part of the seasons every year: yet for the tow parts you shall be with me and the other deathless gods. But when the earth shall bloom with the fragrant flowers of spring in every kind, then from the realm of darkness and gloom thou shalt come up once more to be a wonder for gods and mortal men. And now tell me how he rapt you away to therealm of darkness and gloom, and by what trick did strong Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides] beguile you?’

Then beautiful Persephone answered her thus : ‘Mother, I will tell you all without error. When luck-bringing Hermes came, swift messenger from my father the Son of Kronos and the other Sons of Ouranos, bidding me come back from Erebos that you might see me with your eyes and so cease from your anger and fearful wrath against the gods, I sprang up at once for joy; but he secretly put in my mouth sweet food, a pomegranate seed, and forced me to taste against my will. Also I will tell how he rapt me away by the deep plan of my father [Zeus] the Son of Kronos and carried me off beneath the depths of the earth, and will relate the whole matter as you ask. All we were playing in a lovely meadow, Leukippe and Phaino and Elektra and Ianthe, Melite also and Iakhe with Rhodea and Kallirhoe and Melobosis and Tykhe and Okyrhoe, fair as a flower, Khryseis, Ianeira, Akaste and Admete and Rhodope and Plouto and charming Kalypso; Styx too was there and Ourania and lovely Galaxaure with Pallas who rouses battles and Artemis delighting in arrows: we were playing and gathering sweet flowers in our hands, soft crocuses mingled with irises and hyacinths, and rose-blooms and lilies, marvellous to see, and the narcissus which the wide earth caused to grow yellow as a crocus. That I plucked in my joy; but the earth parted beneath, and there the strong lord, Polydegmon (Host of Many) [Haides] sprang forth and in his golden chariot he bore me away, all unwilling, beneath the earth : then I cried with a shrill cry. All this is true, sore though it grieves me to tell this tale.’

So did they then, with hearts at one, greatly cheer each the other's soul and spirit with many an embrace: their hearts had relief from their griefs while each took and gave back joyousness. Then bright-coiffed Hekate came near to them, and often did she embrace the daughter of holy Demeter: and from that time the lady Hekate was minister and companion to Persephone.

IV. GIFT OF AGRICULTURE & THE ELEUSINIAN MYSTERIES

"And all-seeing Zeus sent a messenger to them, rich-haired Rheia, to bring dark-cloaked Demeter to join the families of the gods (phyla theon) : and he promised to give her what rights she should choose among the deathless gods and agreed that her daughter should go down for the third part of the circling year to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts should live with her mother and the other deathless gods. Thus he commanded. And the goddess did not disobey the message of Zeus; swiftly she rushed down from the peaks of Olympos and came to the plain of Rharos, rich, fertile corn-land once, but then in nowise fruitful, for it lay idle and utterly leafless, because the white grain was hidden by design of trim-ankled Demeter. But afterwards, as spring-time waxed, it was soon to be waving with long ears of corn, and its rich furrows to be loaded with grain upon the ground, while others would already be bound in sheaves. There first she landed from the fruitless upper air (aitheros) : and glad were the goddesses to see each other and cheered in heart. Then bright-coiffed Rheia said to Demeter : ‘Come, my daughter; for far-seeing Zeus the loud-thunderer calls you to join the families of the gods, and has promised to give you what rights you please among the deathless gods, and has agreed that for a third part of the circling year your daughter shall go down to darkness and gloom, but for the two parts shall be with you and the other deathless gods: so has he declared it shall be and has bowed his head in token. But come, my child, obey, and be not too angry unrelentingly with the dark-clouded Son of Kronos; but rather increase forthwith for men the fruit that gives them life.’

So spake Rheia. And rich-crowned Demeter did not refuse but straightway made fruit to spring up from the rich lands, so that the whole wide earth was laden with leaves and flowers.

Then she [Demeter] went to [the leaders of Eleusis] . . . she showed them the conduct of her rites and taught them all her mysteries . . . awful mysteries which no one may in any way transgress or pry into or utter, for deep awe of the gods checks the voice. Happy is he among men upon earth who has seen these mysteries; but he who is uninitiate and who has no part in them, never has lot of like good things once he is dead, down in the darkness and gloom. But when the bright goddess had taught them all, they went to Olympos to the gathering of the other gods. And there they dwell beside Zeus who delights in thunder, awful and reverend goddesses. Right blessed is he among men on earth whom they freely love: soon they do send Ploutos (Plutus, Wealth) as guest to his great house, Ploutos who gives wealth to mortal men.

And now . . . queen Deo, be gracious, you and your daughter all beauteous Persephoneia, and for my song grant me heart-cheering substance."

#demeterdeity #demeter deity #persephone deity #persphonedeity #hadesdeity #hades deity #anon asks #life answers #greek mythology #ancient greece #the hymn to demeter #the myth of hades and persphone #hades and persephone #hellenic chat

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greenygreenland · 3 years

Text

Fireflies: Morro x Reader

-i was originally writing this on a whim but saw a request and was like, okay this fits PERFECTLY for that request, so here ya go -okay don’t judge me but I think Morro’s cool -banc is some random guy i made up just now lmaooo -you’re an elemental master and Morro’s childhood friend because yeahhhh

Summary: Humans are insignificant, tiny beings. Your time is drawing near and you’re sure your life was a waste.

Dreams were powerful. They became the very thing that drove people to the edge. But they were also the very thing that drove people forward, and taught them to keep looking up in the dark. When you were young, you used to wish upon a star. You used to lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling in thought.

Now, you couldn’t. Your breaths began to slow, your eyes fluttered open and closed. This was the final blow. Your final stand. Was it really okay to be out here all alone? At least you had the stars and the moon to keep you company. They had lit your way and guided you to your target. If it weren’t for those tiny little specks above, you wouldn’t have completed the stupid mission.

Sometimes you wondered if things could have been different. Before you left the monastery, you should have given Morro a tighter hug, a longer smile, a bigger laugh. You should have told your sensei how much you adored having him around, how much you admired and respected him for what he did. You should have sent another letter to Garmadon and written about how boring it was without having him around.

There were so many things left unsaid. Unwritten. Forgotten. Why didn’t you cling tighter to them?

“(Y/n)!”

Your breath hitched. Was that...?

“(Y/N)!”

You let out a strangled wheeze. “M-Morro...” The grass parted around you and swished with the breeze. He collapsed by your side, heaving and mumbling under his breath. “What happened?” he demanded. “Where were you?! We captured that guy, but then you just disappeared!” Morro didn’t even try to hide the fear in his voice as he ripped his sleeve and tied it around your wounds.

The man you were trying to catch was a serial killer. You thought he was some lowly idiot, but it turned out he had an entourage of killing machines. He experimented on them, and that gave them abilities no normal people should possessed. “Morro...” You winced. “Leave. That guy, he...he has these people who...”

“Just shut up.” His was holding back tears. “You aren’t dying on me, and even if that guy had backup, you bet Sensei won’t have trouble taking them out. I’m bringing you home, so don’t you dare sleep on me.” You intertwined your bloody hand with his. “Morro, please. Go.” He clenched his teeth.

“No!” His voice came out harsh, but you knew it was good-natured. “I’m not leaving you! Not again.” You turned to stare at the starry sky. What was Morro referring to? Whatever it was felt like so long ago--or was that just your hazy memory? No, you had incredible memory.

“(Y/n), stay awake!”

You were sleepy. The stars were beginning to fade, along with Morro’s beautiful eyes glazed over with tears. Fireflies rose from the grass, fluttering past your view in little specks of light. You wondered what it felt like to be so free and insignificant. They had no responsibilities, no nothing save for living.

What did that feel like?

“Hey...” you whispered. “Remember that time you...helped me up...after I...after I scraped my knee?” Morro squeezed your hand, but it was like he hadn’t at all. Your limbs were numb in pain.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Save your strength--”

You laughed and it was melancholy and broken and sad and all the things Morro wished he never heard. This wasn’t you. It wasn’t what he wanted for you. The sky was blurring in a mix of pale moonlight and scattered dots of stars. You thought back to that day, the one where you had scrapped your knee.

Blood gushed out of the tattered skin. You winced, wishing with bitter regret that you hadn’t overstepped your attack. It wouldn’t have happened if you were paying more attention, but how could you when Morro was so attractively distracting?

He glanced at you from over his shoulder and paused. “Hold on,” he told his sparring partner. You blew on the open wound. Maybe it would help ease the pain, you weren’t sure. “First Spinjitzu Master, urgh.”

Morro knelt by your side, eyes all soft and warm. “You’re such a clutz sometimes.” You huffed. “I wouldn’t be if you weren’t so freaking...” Heat rose to your cheeks, reddening them like apples. There was no way you’d openly admit he made you trip over your own two feet.

“’So freaking’ what?” he inquired, raising a brow. Your rosy cheeks darkened and Morro let out a bright laugh. “Wait here.” He stood and hurried inside the monastery. His sparring partner, Banc, sent you big thumbs up. You rolled your eyes at him and threw your scabbard at him. He easily caught it with a smirk grin.

“When are you going to tell him?”

You raised a brow. “Tell him what?”

“That you like him.” Banc said it like it was the mot obvious thing in all of Ninjago, but it wasn’t like he was wrong. Sensei Wu saw it, Garmadon saw it, everyone saw it. What a miracle it would be if it was a secret, or at least a quiet thing.

“Morro’s the only one who doesn’t realise it.” you muttered. Banc rolled his eyes. “Then tell him! I’ll go insane if you keep your mouth shut for another day.” The Monastery doors opened and Morro jogged out with a wet handkerchief and a bandage. “I don’t mean to keep you guys waiting,” he said, “but this is important.”

“To you.” Banc jested. Morro rolled his eyes playfully. He knelt back by your side and gently wiped the wound. “(Y/n) could die if the wound gets infected, so it’s important anyway.” You snorted. “A wound’s not going to kill me.”

“It very well could if one is not careful.”

You turned to look at the open doors. Sensei waltzed out, bamboo staff in one hand and straw hat in the other. His bag, heavy around his shoulders, was big and filled with as much stuff as he could fit. You wondered if it was because of tea or scrolls. “Are you going somewhere?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid so. In the mean time, I hope you all come to realise what’s hidden under the surface. Whether it be hidden feelings,” he cast you a knowing look, “or personal progression. Keep the Monastery tidy and please don’t forget to pickle the vegetables. I’d hate not to have any pickled radish without my rice.”

You all shared a good-natured chuckle. Morro wrapped your knee in a bandage and turned to glance at Sensei with curious eyes. They sparkled like the clouds in the rising sunlight, just like little nuggets of gold. “What do you mean by ‘hidden feelings’?” Sensei smiled warmly. “You will have to find that out on your own. I’ll be off now, you will see me in seven days’ time.”

The moment Sensei disappeared down the front steps and Banc had closed the doors tight, silence fell over you three. Banc kept looking at you with that stupid grin of his and you had to admit, it was getting annoying. Whenever Morro turned his back to you, he motioned for you to tell him.

An hour passed, then five and six. The sun began to set along the horizon, and that was when Banc decided it was high time you fulfilled your task.

“Morro,” Banc announced. “(Y/n) has something to tell you.”

At the foot of the mountain, you lay in a large field. Morro was on your right, and Banc on your left. The fireflies that flitted past your vision were as bright as the stars, maybe even brighter. A single one landed on your nose and Morro couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you were in that moment.

“What do you want to tell me?” he inquired. You stared at the lone firefly, cheeks a dim red in its glow. “Uh...it’s...it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Banc looks like he wants to yell at you.” he said with a chuckle. The firefly launched off your nose and joined its family in a swarm of bright specks of light.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I do have something to say. It’s just that I...uh...I...”

A soft smile rested upon your lips. “You didn’t...didn’t forget that day...did you?” Morro touched his forehead to yours. His tears glistened in the moonlight and touched your cheeks like a misty morning drizzle. “No,” he whispered. “Of course I didn’t forget. How...how could I?”

You released one of his hands and shakily placed it on his damp cheeks. This was it, nothing else could stop time and save you from your last moments. No magic, no element, no god would or could come to your aid. But that was okay. As long as you Morro stayed right here in these moments, you’d be happy.

Happy. What a funny word.

“I...I don’t want to die.” Your voice cracked and Morro didn’t ignore it. “I don’t want you to die either.”

“What...what will...happen when I’m dead?” Morro heaved in a sharp breath and shook his head. “You won’t die,” --he chocked back a sob-- “I won’t let you.” That was a lie. Even though he didn’t want you to die, how could he save you? Morro was the Master of Wind, not death or resurrection. There wasn’t anything to do, no matter what he said.

“When...when I’m gone...promise you’ll...move on?”

A look of horror snapped through his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of ever having to let you go. It wasn’t what he did. How could he when you were his light, his life? If you hadn’t been around, then he would have died trying to prove Destiny wrong.

“I...I love you Morro.”

“I love you more.” He pulled you close into the security of his arms and hugged you tight. “But please, please don’t go.” You smiled again with the last of your strength. It was all you could do when the world was fading, blurring into dots and colours.

You shut your eyes. Your hand went limp.

Morro stilled and tightened his hold on your dead body. Fireflies flew past him in glowing paths of specks. A single firefly landed on your nose, illuminating the dried splatter of blood on your cheeks. In that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were.

“I love you (Y/n). I love you more than anything in Ninjago.”

REBLOG so this can reach more people (and therefore support me, the creator!) TIP JAR <---

#morro x reader #ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago x reader #lego ninjago x reader #lego #morro ninjago #ninjago morro

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hiccstrxd · 3 years

Text

Heaven is you

This was an idea i had for Rayla's birthday and the outline seemed too wholesome to not do it lol. It has family feels and rayllum being soft as always. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness. But this one in particular has brought her an abundant amount of joy, filling her heart with the purest of loves.

Or a recollection of Rayla’s birthdays through the years.

Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness.

She recalls being four and waking up to her mum’s soft voice in her ear, a happy birthday, my love being lovingly murmured in the air. She would pretend that she was asleep, cracking one eye open from time to time and doing her best to contain in her laughter as her mother would start to rub her hair soothingly to wake her up. But she would burst into a fit of giggles before her mum could say anything else — even though Rayla is pretty sure she saw past her flimsy excuse of a stoic facade — and her mother would start to laugh alongside her, tickling her belly and asking her when has her little moonbeam gotten this sneaky.

She hadn’t, obviously.

She’d scoop her in her arms and they would go downstairs where her dad would be cooking her favorite breakfast — he’d always go all out when it was her birthday. And he’d see them still laughing as they approached, he’d see them — his two favorite people ever — and he’d come up to them, lifting her in his arms and making her laugh, telling her that today she chose what they would do because today was all hers. Because he’d move earth and sky for his tiny warrior.

And she remembers the glimmer in her mum’s eyes, her father’s beaming smile, her own expression mirroring theirs; she remembers feeling loved, safe, and content.

ii.

Rayla recalls being eleven and coming back after nearly an entire day of training to a cake on the dining table, a sole candle lit on its center, and a neatly folded paper resting beside it. It was rather late, her whole body ached as the practice had been a vigorous one, but upon seeing the homemade gateau she no longer felt the ever consuming exhaustion. No, she felt lighter, more at ease.

Ethari had been sporting the warmest of smiles, his eyes showing every bit of love towards his foster daughter who they had come to care for as their own. Runaan had walked over to where his husband was and stood right next to him, somehow matching his emotion almost instantly — he had been sort of tense before leaving the meadow — and they had wished her the happiest of birthdays, holding her tightly in their embrace, muttering words of comfort and pride and love.

She remembers thinking that there was still a void in her heart as the aftermath of her parents’ absence, but being there surrounded by her two guardians that loved her an abundant amount and whom she loved as much in return, that showed her day after day their support and their care was enough to bring her solace.

She had felt love all the same.

And she always looked forward to reading her parents’ letter at the end of the end. The words were like a warm hug from afar. She became misty-eyed and held the letter close to her heart for hours as if she was keeping her parents in a safe place near her heart.

iii.

She recalls being sixteen and sitting alone in the Xadian forest. She had been wounded and restless, tired and alone. Everywhere and everything hurt, but ironically she had felt numb from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered what that day was supposed to be.

And the bittersweet afterthought made matters worse because then the pang in her chest was just a little too hard to ignore.

Rayla had felt cold and empty, being alone with her thoughts was as harmful as it sounded and the unbecoming urge to cry was getting hard to suppress. But she ended up shedding tears, letting them fall freely as they have been welling up and contained in since much too long ago.

It was her birthday, and she had tried to forget it, making herself not feel, perhaps then the pain would subdue.

It hadn’t.

iv.

It was her birthday and she couldn’t get the royal physician’s words out of her head. They were spinning, echoing, repeating themselves. And she felt equal amounts of excitement and trepidation all at once.

Congratulations Your Highness, you’re with child.

They have been trying, of course, they have, so the news shouldn’t be such a surprise to hear that their efforts had actually turned out fructiferous. But they have, and she didn’t know how to assimilate them without cutting the appointment short and leaving a very confused physician behind, one who was patiently waiting for a reaction out of her.

Because she was excited and elated and so beyond happy that it was taking a lot of willpower to remain seated and not run off to find Callum.

“Your Highness? Is everything all right?”

She blinked, “Of course.” Rayla offered them a smile. How could it not be, honestly?

And after a couple of recommendations and how they’d like to see her in the span of a few weeks — after all, the babe was still a halfling and the pregnancy was to be monitored constantly for that matter — they bid her goodbye with another well-meaning congratulation on the way.

Rayla couldn’t help the fast pace in which she was walking nor the beaming smile from breaking out.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking nonstop for you. What did the physician say?” She heard Callum’s voice round the corner; the worried tone of her husband of three years was enough to make her smile deepened because he was just the sweetest person ever and she just knows that he’s going to be the best father out there.

And the mere thought was enough to make her heart burst with adoration.

He took a couple of steps forward and placed one hand on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, “Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to catch herself, before she had any time to dwell on how to tell him, but after they were out, she knows that there was no better way, no better time. Because seeing those expressive, loving eyes widen in realization, going through every emotion in the span of a second, how his hand stilled its movement on her cheek and how she heard his breath catch in his throat was as heartwarming as if she’d had outlined a grander plan in advance to break the big news to him.

“Really?” He whispered, barely audible.

She hummed.

“You are pregnant?”

She hummed again.

“There’ll be a tiny, perfect mix of the both of us in a couple of months?”

Rayla nodded unable to keep the grin off her face, her arms coming upwards to lace them loosely around his neck and raising herself on her tiptoes to breath small kisses across his cheek — damn those two inches he had gained on her. Their chests were pressed together, and she felt the deep rumble in his chest that soon turned into a peal of boisterous laughter that surely could be heard through the entire hallway. The sound was too contagious to not let out one of her own.

His arms came to encircle her waist, engulfing her in a tight hug, both of them shaking with laughter and happiness and pure delight.

“We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

They pulled back slightly, faces inches away from each other’s, noses brushing against one another, breaths mingling in their shared space. She wanted to capture this blissful moment in a picture.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smug grin.

“Don’t.” Rayla raised a single brow, looking pointedly at him because she knew where his mind had headed in a matter of seconds. And because she also remembers rather vividly exactly what he had thought about — it had been a very nice anniversary gift, after all. It had carried the promise of fervent love, a burning passion, and a couple’s desire of at last starting a family.

He let out an amused laugh, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I practically saw you thinking about it!” She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff in faux disbelief at her husband’s antics. They locked gazes, grass green meeting amethyst violet, a glimmer in both of them. They couldn’t help the small laugh thereafter.

His eyes softened as the laughter ceased, pulling her closer by the waist and planting one tender kiss on the lips, feeling all the love conveyed in such a small action and trying to reciprocate as much as she was receiving.

“I love you.” She said lovingly when they parted, her hands coming up to cup his jaw in a light grasp.

He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the underside softly, “I adore you.”

Rayla knows that it wouldn’t be easy, parenting — motherhood— never was as the rising self-doubts, the exhaustion of both mind and body, the anxiety of diving into the unknown, and all the possible mistakes that were bound to be made. But, she thinks, as long as they have each other — and everyone else who has been there for that matter — this baby would be raised with abundant love and affection. She'd make sure of it.

It was superfluous to say that this birthday by far had brought her one of her greatest joys. A surprise that couldn’t be topped by any other.

#rayllum #rayllum fic #rayllummonth2021 #my writing #rayla #callum #the dragon prince #rayllum fanfic #it's fluff #because i can't write anything else #and they are married #because i say so #there’s also lots of family feels

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wastedyouth-wasteddreams · 3 years

Text

@simnellVP art

“Seems we have trouble coming...or company at the very least”

He didn’t falter from the delicate work around his patients shoulder, he was so calmly spoken, that the guy coming to on his chair almost didn’t absorb the meaning of his words.

“uh?” came the baffled slow response as he looked to Vik, who was finishing up cauterizing near his clavicle. The patient heard a *thu-dunk* from the entrance to the shop.

Vik didn’t even flinch as he heard the gate swung open and crashing into the storage cage.

“Theres only one person who bombs down those stairs like a gorilla in heat”...he raised his voice, so it was loud enough to hear from the doorway, but still focusing on his work. Though if he were to look a little closer, his client would have noticed a restrained smirk creeping up on Vik’s face.

“Maybe I'll get paid this time though” He remarked as he spun around just in time to see her strutting over to his desk, as if she owned the place. She placed some things on his desk then turned on her heels and clasped the edge to pull herself up to a backwards perch. She arched her back and leant forward as she looked toward Vik to flash him a smile. *shit*

“Sorry Vik” she stammered, eyes wide with embarassment. She wasn’t expecting him to be with a patient, usually Misty would tell her...*fuck* she thought to herself. Misty wasn’t even there to tell be able her, why didn't she consider this.

Her eyebrows knotted in her over thinking. *and now I'm just sat here like an idiot. An idot who owes him many many eddies. Some kind of annoying bag of crushing hormones*

“Grab me that rag will ya, kid?’ He interrupted her train of thought, pointing past her.

“we’re about finished up anyhow...to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He spun back around and started to turn off the monitors on his patient, who was now fully awake and tracing the steps of the unknown visitor.

He always knew how to calm her. Even when he didn't know that she was berating herself internally, he just knew that a few calmed words from his mouth would always bring her vibe back to where it should be.

“I wish lovely women brought me bottles of whisky at work Doc... “ He spoke softly at Vik, so that she didn’t hear as she approached.

“You know what happened last time this brat brought me whisky? A half hour consult ended up with me elbow deep in hydrophobic grease for 4 hours...took me the better part of the next morning to recalibrate my exoglove. Its bribery is what it is.” He felt a hand grasping his shoulder and giving him a little squeeze, and a towel was left draping on his neck

“Chest plate looks nova. That what you guys did today?” She nodded at Viks latest work. Vik knew he did a pretty good job, and he was humble about it, but for some reason he felt proud when she said that. Not like she hadn't seen his work before, most of her chrome was introduced with her sat in that very chair in fact. There was something nice about hearing her praises though.

As he started to wipe his elbows and forearms, he caught his patients gaze, locked onto the jeans she was wearing, and how they hugged her ass. He was pretty sure he could see the guys eyes moving from one side to the next as her slow meander made her ass bounce ever so slightly with every step toward the desk.

"Steady on there choom. She could put you back in this chair quick as you can blink" Vik didn't realise he was even saying the words as they left his mouth. He felt himself blushing...wait. No. He wasn't blushing. He was feeling anger. This fucking guy. He was eating into Viks clock out time. He was sat on viks chair. He was staring at viks girl. *fuck vik* he scolded himself for feeling possessive of her and lightly shook his head to himself.

"Sorry man...didn't know you guys were a thing." His client chirped back at him.

"Nothin' like that. I just know her. Pretty well actually" he said as he stood up and walked the client away from the halogen lights.

Vik carefully watched this guys every move as he got closer to her.

"Thats a good whisky you bought there" the client tried to earn her favour and Viks new hatred grew with every word coming from his gonk mouth.

"Hands off champ. That one's mine" vik almost growled the words, but was hoping they came across more jovial than they were ment. His anger built as he saw this gonk lean over her shoulder. He pulled a card from his jacket and Vik heard his next attempt.

"if you ever fancy dropping whisky at my office, or you wanted to get dinner or something". She didn't even hear his dodgy come on, her heart had started flutters when she heard Vik note his displeasure. She imagined for a moment that he meant SHE was his, instead of the whisky. She played the loop in her head *that one's mine*.

Vik stood up, unaware of what he thought he would do. His left hand closed into a fist, and his face started to burn. In his mind he was giving this fucker a count of 3 to start walking out, before he ushered him out.

3....

Nope. Still there

2...

Gonk was now reaching to touch her hand

1...

"OK, off you go. If she wants, she can call, but I'm clocking out"

She could hear his boots stomping the ground as Vik strode toward her. It took him long enough. This dick was seriously trying to hit on her in Viks surgery. She wondered if this was some sort of brotherly affection, or if it could possibly be jealousy. Whatever it was, it certainly perked her mood up to see him have such a strong reaction.

"Oh that there is mad Vik!" She smiled and nodded to the gate "if he doesn't get fed soon , he's likely to get real angry" she laughed out as the customer walked as swiftly as possible through the gates.

Viks heart fluttered back into his chest when he saw her throw the card into the waste. He couldn't believe that feeling. The guy was a nice customer, but as soon as he saw that guy staring. It just shook him, he felt like he used to before a fight. Adrenalin surged through his muscles, but this time with no where to use it.

His thought was interupted when a whisky bottle was thrust within a foot of his face, a cheeky smile hidden behind it, sat under bright wide eyes and a raised happy brow.

"Happy Birthday Vik. Legal to drink now finally?" She smirked at his frown, knowing her jibes at his age were always a sure way to bait him.

He had forgotten it was his birthday. Intentionally.

"My favourite. How did you know?" He cooed jokingly. She bought it. Every. Time.

"I just buy it 'cause it says 'Dickin'" she shrugged and handed him a box with a bow that she had been hiding behind her back. The box was just brown cardboard, with a velvet black bow barely keeping the flaps closed but it sort of reminded him of how her apartment smelt, and how she was kind of like a brown cardboard box, with a velvet ribbon...or some shit. He had no idea but he knew there was a metaphore there somewhere. It just reminded him of her for some reason.

"Whats this?"

" Well it's just a box until you open it Doc" she took it from his hands and laid it down on the desk. He was still gloved up and she was cautious of him dropping the box. She frowned softly at him.

"Take off the scissorhand first. Then you unwrap. Then we drink."

He let out a heavy breath through a contented smile, and found himself looking forward to slumping on the couch out back with such wonderful company.

"Ok." He really didn't know what could be in that bloody box though. It was a rectangle, about the same length and width of his hand about 5 inches high, and it was a little heavy, but didn't make a noise when it moved. It's probably something for surgery, he thought to himself as he turned to the back.

"Come on then kid. I ain't drinking stood up" he reached out and threw his right arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his chest tightly. He could feel her warm breath through his shirt as he playfully lifted her from the ground with one strong arm.

His muscles flexed around her and she felt her toes lifting to the air. Her inner eye brows raised and she let out a near silent giggle into him. She felt a soft kiss on the top of her head before he dropped her back to the floor.

More to come....

#cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #viktor vektor #viktor vector/reader #cyberpunk viktor #viktor vektor fic #viktor vector

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Note

can I request a hc with “I told you not to fall in love with me.” for akaashi? I enjoyed the sleepover writing so much!!! also,, can you turn it into an angst to fluff bc,,I cry easily and maybe a timeskip with the relationship? thank u 👁👅👁

Akaashi x reader - scenario

prompt: “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

a/n: i legit retyped this whole thing 3 times with different story lines each time lmao. no idea why i couldn’t decide on something ahh. i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you were anticipating (couldn’t turn it into a hc, had to do a scenario,) but this is how i interpreted it! thank you so much for reading and requesting!! <3333 kind of an angst to fluff situation

warnings: suggests nsfw in the beginning

wc: 1710

---

A mistake.

It was a huge, thoughtless mistake.

I mean, what did you think would happen?

That one night with Akaashi would be easy to forget? That, after liking him for months, you would just stop caring? That your touch starved body would immediately go back to normal after having his hands all over you?

You still feel the ghost of his fingertips trailing over your skin… and you shiver.

“Don’t go falling in love with me.” He’d murmured, jokingly, his words followed by a light chuckle.

You just joined him with a short, breathy laugh in response, splayed out on his bed, exhausted.

Oh, the irony.

---

It’s morning after, and a golden glow stirs you out of your sleep. The soreness in your legs and the unfamiliar scent of someone else’s home overwhelms your senses. You’re still in his bed, your body still intertwined with Akaashi’s. His eyebrows are furrowed, his breathing is steady. He’s still in a deep sleep.

So pretty… you think as you study his features.

It’s what you’ve wanted… just not under the right circumstance. Even though you know it’s probably a bad idea, you decide to not leave right away.

Instead, you resolve to fix breakfast for the two of you. Under the best of circumstances, you’ll chat. Maybe laugh a little?

Slipping out of his sheets, you carefully pull on a white tee shirt and shorts, making your way out of the room, try not to knock into anything.

The kitchen, now visible in the early morning daylight, is neat and tidy, nothing out of place. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s efficient and it’s just so… him.

As you’re making pancakes and bacon (you found ingredients in the pantry and bacon in the fridge,) you hear soft footsteps.

“What... are you doing here?” He questions sleepily. The confusion is apparent on his face… he’d clearly expected you to run off right when you woke up.

“Oh, sorry… I just thought I’d make you breakfast. There’s coffee brewing right now.” You speak quietly, not wanting to reveal your embarrassment.

Ah, that’s right… you weren’t supposed to be here. You overstepped an unspoken boundary.

He just hums, taking a seat at his kitchen table right across from where you’re cooking. He’d had his assumptions about you… he knew you had liked him in the past, but he hadn’t predicted the possibility of you staying throughout the morning. His foresight ended when last night began.

A mistake, now, on his part.

And he grew steadily more uncomfortable.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you around… but he hadn’t planned on you knowing him. He had boundaries for a reason. Standards and space to keep people away from him.

A habit he’d developed subconsciously throughout the years to protect himself.

Yet, you were still here. In his kitchen, at his house, with his number… making breakfast for him.

All this after a long night of exploration. Body-to-body contact. Physical interaction with someone, admittedly very beautiful, that he hasn’t had in a long time.

It’s too close for comfort.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure we’re on the same page right now…” He starts.

You turn around, realizing the conversation you’re about to have… isn’t going to be very fun.

“Y/n, I told you I’m not used to these things. Don’t get me wrong… you’re kind for making me breakfast and I genuinely enjoyed last night… but I didn’t sign up for a relationship.” He states bluntly, trying to combat the creeping feeling of guilt in his stomach.

There’s something else there too, but he can’t quite figure out what the emotion is.

Your eyes are getting a little teary, but you manage to hold back any tears of embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry… I just, I don’t know, I thought maybe you would see me differently? I, uhm… I really like you. A lot.” You try to compose yourself, but your hands become shaky so you grab onto the countertop.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.” He reminds you of his playful words from last night, but it sounds far more serious this time. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me, but I’m not interested in this continuing.” He tries to reason, noticing the redness appearing slowly on your face.

“I hate to break it to you, Akaashi, but that’s not exactly how emotions work. For most people at least.” You crack a small smile, but it won’t fool Akaashi… and it’s definitely not fooling you.

And a tear betrays you, slipping down your cheek to the tip of your chin, onto the floor below.

Once one leaves your eye, the others decide to follow. Your dove-white shirt now wet and covered in tear stains.

How humiliating. Thinking that something as stupid as sleeping with Akaashi would produce some semblance of feelings in him. That somehow you would be adequate enough for him in one night that he could see some relationship with you in the future.

Yes, it was a huge mistake.

On both sides.

So you head home, leaving him in the wake of your emotions and him stuck in his thoughts, processing why he’d allowed this to happen.

The room feels empty without you in it.

Why is that? And why does he feel so bad about it? He didn’t do anything wrong. Or did he?

Why does he want to call you right now? Why does he suddenly need to explain himself? He has no reason to. You never asked him to…

He buries his head in his hands for a few minutes then decides on a shower. That should wash away whatever pit he’s feeling in his stomach right now.

But the feeling lingers.

And it chooses to nag at him for months, with no end in sight.

---

Time passed and college is more or less overtaking your life. The end of the semester leaves you overwhelmed and burnt out. So yeah, you’re contemplating, once again, why you went to college in the first place.

However, without the distraction of school, you probably would still be ruminating on last semester’s heartbreaker of an issue.

The workload allowed you to let go of any hope for Akaashi returning feeling or reaching out.

Numbing something isn’t always the best way to get rid of your feelings, but you can’t help but think they wouldn’t have gone away without some mental diversion.

Your expectations were too high and it was best for you to burn that bridge. Or whatever was left to burn anyway.

But fate likes to play cruel tricks and you seem to be its target for the day.

As you leave your dorm, a wave of familiarity washes over you.

That smell… that cologne. It’s a sharp slap to the face.

You finally make it out of the thick, painful realization that Akaashi isn’t going to be a part of your life anymore… and your mind draws you right back in.

But it isn’t just the cologne. No.

The familiar features, physical and vocal, decided to rejoin you as well.

The universe had the audacity to place him on the walkway up to your dorm room.

You attempt to slink past him, turning your face hoping that he hadn’t already seen you, but you simply aren’t fast enough.

“It’s been a while, y/n.” He states.

Your heart drops and you slowly turn around, body stiff.

“Why are you here?” It sounds more like an accusation than a question. Oops.

“Well, maybe it’s because we go to the same school?” He chuckles, but straightens himself up.

“Yeah… well I’ve gotta run. I’m late for, um, things.” You reply, trying to get yourself out of an increasingly awkward situation.

Akaashi takes a step forward and gently, but firmly, grasps your jacket’s sleeve.

“Hold on.” He orders, then softens the command with a, “Please.”

“I actually came here to- ehem, apologize.” He looks you straight in the eye.

He seems genuine, his hurt translating through his eyes.

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you.” He admits, “I knew you’d liked me… and I- I was selfish.”

He reads your face, noting the look of exhausted grief in your expression.

In a way, he had used you. He knew you felt something for him… and inadvertently took advantage of it. Not wanting strings attached, not caring (in the moment) that it might hurt you, and not communicating his intentions.

“A friend of yours finally told me where you lived, so I ran over here to let you know that I am, truly, so sorry.”

Your eyes are misty again… why am I like this.

You give a gentle smile, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“Akaashi, it’s okay. It was a mistake. Things like this happen all the time.” You do your best to console the boy, the one who’s still gripping your jacket. Even though it’s really you who needs a hug right now.

“I’m gonna head-on, but I hope you feel better, okay? Don’t go overthinking things.” You tease, gently. It’s the best you can do.

But he doesn’t let go.

“I want to talk with you.” He states, this time with a tone of interest, not pleading. Asking.

“What do you mean?” You ask, genuinely confused. You feel yourself getting warm and it’s not the layers you’re wearing.

His unoccupied hand makes its way to the back of his head. “Like… on a date. Or just out somewhere.”

The directness shocks you. Why now? Why not then? Should you even trus-

“I understand if you don’t trust me. You’re right… that night was a mistake. But you aren’t.”

He’s flushed, but it’s crystal clear that he’s being honest. He let’s go of your jacket.

“I think I can trust you, y/n. I want to make it up to you… get to know you better. For the right reasons.”

You contemplate it, making him wait for a moment, allowing several, long seconds to pass.

Yes, he caused pain.

But there are two pieces to any problem. Person A and person B.

You’ve been given second chances all your life… from jobs, to relational mistakes, to breakups. Forgiveness is one of the most powerful forces.

And you figure person B could use a second chance.

“Then let’s start slow.” You decide and reach out a hand with a mischievous glint in your eyes, letting your humor shine through for a moment.

“Hi, I’m y/n.”

He reaches his own hand out to yours, but instead of shaking it, intertwines his fingers with yours, in a sense, sealing the deal.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Akaashi.” He reintroduces himself with a small, but glowing smile.

#haikyuu!!#haikyu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #akaashi keiji #akaashi haikyuu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi oneshot #akaashi x reader #akaashi #akaashi fluff #akaashi angst #akaashi x y/n #akaashi x you #hq #hq scenarios #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #sneezefiction

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