#I’m going cuckoo tonight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madddays · 1 year

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camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #min yoongi imagine

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troutfur · 7 months

Text

Tonight is Writer's Choice night because I said so and because I binged the whole of the new book over the course of my day off and it gave me ideas.

Tomorrow we're back to taking prompts from the audience, in accordance with my guidelines, but as a clarification since I've got more than a handful: Mapleshade's Vengeance is in fact one of the books I haven't read. And I'm not sure it's a book I even want to read. After the whole "yeah it's totally a good idea to write an article telling kids that if they don't jump into a flooding river to save someone else they're going to Hell, just get social media to shut up" fiasco from last year it just has left a sour taste in my mouth.

Preamble out of the way, enjoy Sunbeam's ThunderClan polycule, feat. pfurr dynamic worldbuilding:

On the night Nightheart went missing, Sunbeam went into her new nest feeling dejected. The whole of ThunderClan had been buzzing with a celebratory atmosphere but hearing her mate had left had her double-guessing herself at her decisions so far. The cryptic reassurances from StarClan Squirrelstar conveyed to to her had for sure not had remotely close to the intended effect. With no clear reason why he was gone she was left wondering if Nightheart’s wenwi --his maternal grandmother-- was even telling the truth or just trying to save face for her awbyyo --her bloodline.

As she settled in to sleep, Sunbeam felt a paw prodding at her side. “Hey.” Sunbeam raised her face to see the tortoiseshell face of Nightheart’s sister.“I know you haven’t officially joined the pfurr, but... would you like to sleep with us? At least until my brother’s back.”

“I...” Sunbeam was a bit taken aback. She turned her face towards two other cats cuddled with each other, their faces expectantly towards her. Those must be her empf --her nestmates-- Sunbeam guessed. “I thought Nightheart slept alone. He did mention you but with how he spoke I thought he was a--”

“Oh no, no!” the molly was quick to interject. “StarClan no, he’s not nearly bad enough to be a hug’koo.” In their language that was a word meant ‘cuckoo’, but it could also mean a cat that had been expelled from a nest. “He just has fallen into the habit of sleeping on his own. Being made a warrior late and all.”

“But he left his Clan to court me,” Sunbeam protested. Having let that slip out she wanted to swallow back her tongue. Berryheart would certainly have thought that an offense grave enough and she hoped upon reconsidering Finchlight wouldn’t agree with that view.

“And he’s not going to lose his place in his birth pfurr from that,” Finchlight said with a shrug. “You just try again the other way ‘round. The elders may say it’s disrespectful but I’ve always thought it was jus the smart thing to do.”

“It’s not like I have a sibling to share a nest with who I care about offending,” Sunbeam mused, rising to her paws as she followed Finchlight back to her nest.

“Really?” she asked. “An ul-arramew? You don’t very much act like one.”

“No, it’s not like that,” Sunbeam said. “I have two brothers in fact. But one of them took a SkyClan mate and the other was not very pleased. And so...”

“Oh,” Finchlight said. “I’m sorry I pried.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Sunbeam said. “What’s the courtship period for if not for meeting your soon-to-be mate?” The word she used there was empf for in their language there’s no distinction between one’s romantic partner and any other cat one share a nest with.

“Settle in,” Finchlight offered as she carved her space between alongside the other two cats, a golden tabby tom and a pale brown molly, who were already settled on their nest. “It should be enough for all four. We had it expanded for Nightheart forever ago but since he insists on being by his lonesome.”

“Hey,” Sunbeam greeted with a flick of her tail which the other cats responded to in kind. Though everyone in the nest was cozy and fit rather neatly the atmosphere didnt’ seem yet conducive for actually going to sleep. “So... Nightheart never mentioned any other empf other than her sister. When did you all start courting?”

Myrtlebloom and Bayshine went wide-eyed in surprise for a moment before clarity dawned on them and they gave an amused purr.

“We didn’t court,” Bayshine --the tom-- clarified. “We’ve just... kinda always shared a nest.”

“Pryyp?” Sunbeam piped up.

“Our wipfurrs” --that means mothers-- “were always close. And Sparkpelt had not been in the right mindset to nurse or take care of Finchy or Nighty towards their first moon or so. So they nursed with us and the habit of sharing a nest just kinda stuck.”

“Did he never tell you?” Finchlight asked.

“No, he didn’t,” Sunbeam said in surprise. “That’s lovely of her and lovely of you. When he spoke of ThunderClan he always stressed other things.”

“Typical,” Bayshine said with an eyeroll. “Such a complainer that Nightheart. There was once towards the beginning of our apprenticeship when he...”

The nest continued gossiping about their missing member until sleep overtook them. As she drifted off into sleep, with her head rested on the soft fur of her soon-to-be empf she began to give off a purr. There may be a piece of their nest missing but now she could work on loving and being loved by the rest of them.

#asc spoilers #thunder spoilers #warrior cats #wc #warrior cats au #sunbeam #finchlight #bayshine #myrtlebloom #nightheart #clanmew #pfurr clanmew #pfurr dynamics

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daisychainable · 8 months

Text

Shane's High Score

Fix it fic for Shane's 14 heart event! You shouldn't have to stalk your husband!

“You should talk to him.”

Peony blinked. And blinked again. Her hands tightened around the teacup in her hands, the drink still warm. “Excuse me?”

Marnie fidgeted in her chair but maintained eye contact. Her tea sat untouched on the table. They didn’t even get to the normal pleasantries, like ‘how is it going’ or ‘lovely day outside’. No, Marnie continued straight on to, “I know it may be hard to hear, but it seems like Shane is drinking at the saloon again.”

Peony fixed a polite smile onto her face. “Shane has been playing Journey of the Prairie King in the arcade. Abigail beat his score last week.”

“Is he though?” Marnie’s hands fluttered about as she spoke, waving away any arguments like flies.. “Have you gone with him?”

The tea was honestly nice. Chamomile, from Caroline. Peony wondered how her morning was going. The silence hung heavy in the air as Peony finished her cup. “Marnie.”

Marnie stilled. “Yes?”

“Have you talked to Shane?”

“Not yet, but-”

“Have you seen him inside the bar?”

Marnie straightened as she regained some ground. “Yes. He’s there a lot longer than I am. Gus says he’s there until closing time!”

Peony’s eyes crinkled. “Where is he in the bar, Marnie?”

Marnie shook her head. “In the arcade, but with temptation so close, do you really think he’s just staying in the arcade all night? Even if it is just video games, it can’t be good for him to-”

The teacup clinked loudly against the platter. The polite smile was gone. Marnie’s eyes were wide. Peony said in a low voice, “Marnie. I trust Shane. Why don’t you?”

A moment of silence. Marnie opened her mouth, then closed it again. After it was clear she wouldn’t answer, Peony reached across the table and took her cold tea. “Thank you for coming over, Marnie. I’ll see you in the shop sometime.”

As she took the dishes into the kitchen, Peony heard the quiet click of the front door, and she let out all the air she had been holding in. She pinched her fingers to the bridge of her nose and counted to ten. The day had been going so well up until this point, but at least in the late afternoon she didn’t have to worry about doing her chores angry.

The small cuckoo clock ticked away to the next hour. It was a wedding present from Robin. At five o’clock, the little chicken inside popped out and clucked five times. It was a small thing, but it was enough to break a few of the storm clouds above Peony’s head. She shrugged on a light pink jacket and headed outside.

Pelican Town was gorgeous in the fall. The colors took her breath away during her first year, the buttery gold yellow leaves almost too bright compared to the dull grays and brown of the city. Jas had shown her where to find the prettiest purple trees in the forest, and the look on Shane’s face was so openly fond when they came back with arms full of leaves. The clouds above Peony’s head broke completely, and she shook her head with a laugh.

The saloon was only half full today. Peony waved to Gus, who was doing a pretty good job pretending to be busy. “Another bustling Monday?”

Gus chuckled. “As full as ever. Got any mayo for me today?”

Peony shoved her hands in her empty pockets. “Ah, it seems I forgot. Maybe a free coffee would jog my memory for tomorrow?”

Gus shook his head. “Shameless. I’m being extorted in my own bar.”

Peony jerked a thumb towards the arcade. “Same as usual?”

Gus nodded. “He got close a couple times, but I don’t think it’ll happen tonight. Make sure he leaves at a decent time, will you? I’m hoping to close up a little early to catch The Bake Off tonight.”

Peony gave him a two-finger salute and slipped into the hall. The sounds of The Prairie King drifted into the room, and it sounded like her husband was making some good progress. In the dimly lit room, the neon sign cast bright purple highlights on Shane’s tousled hair and focused expression. His practiced hands tapped away diligently as waves of enemies swarmed the little cowboy avatar. Peony hovered a couple feet away and watched over his shoulder.

“The little spike guys are piling up,” Peony chimed.

Shane hummed. “It’s fine, the time's almost up.”

There was still quite a bit of time left, but Shane’s eyes were fever-bright with anticipation as more of the men swarmed him. Peony leaned against the cabinet. “If only you had some sweet power ups to get you out of the corner,” she said.

Shane shook his head, a few strands of hair falling in his eyes. “Nah, it’s fine. I need that power up later.”

Later would not be coming as they both watched one of the spiked enemies pop down a trap right in front of his character. Shane groaned as the little cowboy blipped out of existence and the score screen flashed, Abigail’s high numbers dominating the top of the list. “Damn it, I was so close!”

Peony didn’t think he was too disappointed. His smile was too wide, too contagious. “You think there’s any cheats out there for old-school arcade machines?”

Shane huffed and wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. “There are, but Abigail isn’t using them. I’m gonna beat her fair and square.”

Peony pulled a quarter out of her pocket. “Mind if I join in?”

Shane’s bright eyes met hers with so much warmth it almost knocked Peony over. His smile was absolutely giddy. “Sure thing, player two.”

The quarters clunked heavily in the machine, and their little cowboys ran around each other briefly before setting to work. There was a moment of nothing except for the sound of pixel bullets before Shane spoke again. “Did something happen today? Normally you’d be slapping together pumpkin recipes this late.”

Peony rushed in to take care of the spiked enemies while Shane gathered power ups. “Marnie swung by today to chat.”

The enemies gathered around on all sides to corner them. A coffee power up blinked in close by, and Shane made a grab for it to squeeze out of a tight space. “That sounds nice. What did she say?”

A soldier popped in right by Peony’s little cowboy. She had gotten a little too close to the wall. “She thought you were drinking again.”

Shane stilled for a moment, his fingers pressed down on a button but not releasing it. His cowboy shot aimlessly for a moment before he gathered himself again. “But I’m not.”

Peony nodded, covering for him while he scooped up some coins. “No. You’re not.”

The level cleared, and the shopkeep drifted in with their wares. Shane’s hand gripped the joystick and hovered on the side of the cabinet. His eyebrows creased, and all Peony wanted was to smooth it away. “But what if one day I did? Just, caved in and drank and sat in the corner of the saloon again?”

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers. His shoulders hunched. Peony covered his hand with hers. They were both sweaty, but neither of them minded at that moment. “Then you would come home. I would ask if you were okay. We would take a shower, or watch that sci-fi comedy where neither of us have to think too much. The next day, we would call the therapist and make an appointment.” Peony slipped her fingers between his, and Shane gripped them back. “We can sit and be sad together. We can get back up and play games together and struggle to name the newest chicken together. Whatever happens, we’re gonna get through it together.”

Shane didn’t say anything, but a soft smile now graced his face. He looked at her with all the love he had in his eyes, and Peony knew hers looked the same. Then he looked at their score, and huffed. “We can’t beat Abby’s score together though.”

“Oh God no, Abby’s an absolute menace.”

#stardew shane #sdv shane #sdv farmer #stardew valley #writeblr

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un-holly-chaos · 3 months

Text

Here it is!! (Under the cut)

I'm going to post the thing Here(on this blog), full chapters as soon as they're written folks! Until someone gives me a better idea or the book is finished xD

Chapter One

There is a point, Holly thinks, when you must accept that you are bad at everything, and that this is how your life will go. Every day you will wake up, and put a new attempt into the world, and watch with bright, hopeful eyes, as it falls apart in front of you. She has gotten very good at this, and is quite accustomed to the routine.

She put her amulet in the amulet-slot on the door of the massive, square marble building, in this otherwise empty-for-miles grassy field. The door didn’t respond, and it made her irritable. She had been walking through this ridiculously empty field for hours and hours and it had been loudly raining, and her magic umbrella kept disappearing and water would come splashing all over her head and be cold while doing so. And the door was ignoring her. She tried the amulet again, and instead of opening the door, her umbrella spell flickered again, and she got rained on some more. A gem fell out of her amulet when she removed it from the door. She held in the screams.

As she was putting the gem back into the amulet, the door was manually opened by the handle on the inside, and she was let in. The person who had been so kind as to operate the mechanics of this contraption for her, was Trudy. Trudy was decent at everything, and often let Holly in when the door ignored her.

“We need to put the handle on both sides of the door.” Holly announced. The lively bar room took no notice.Trudy shuffled awkwardly for a moment, then opened her mouth. “See, I told Baringer about that, like you asked,”

“And?” Holly glared at her.

“Well, yes. And he said we can’t put a handle on the outside of the door, because the raccoon would get in, and… you know. He just really doesn’t want a repeat of that incident.”

“Well then maybe Baringer should put up a raccoon ward like I suggested and we could have a double-sided door handle!”

“Yes, but that costs, and he has other priorities, and you’re glaring at me again, and honestly argue with him yourself next time? And I’m going to go finish my game now. Bye.” And Trudy waved and walked off to a table with people and cards, and sat there. Holly wanted to keep arguing, but she was tired, so instead she found her way to the bar. This took some doing, as it was crowded, and crowds made the bar restless, so they kept wheeling it around the room. She collapsed onto a stool, and the bartender approached her. “Randy,” she said, “I need a Dry Wine.” He didn’t say anything, but looked at her sodden robes, nodded, and stepped off to grab a bottle and glass. He returned, “We only have apple left.”

“I don’t care what flavor it is, I just want to not squelch in my boots anymore.”

He poured her a glass and set it on the bar. “So… Why don’t you just try an umbrella spell?”

“Randy,” she said patiently, “if one more person questions me tonight, I will summon every raccoon in this damn meadow, and I will caffeinate them.”

“Okay.” He said, and stood there. “So, I’m not asking, but don’t you normally struggle to summon things?”

“I struggle with all spells, now shut up and leave me alone.” She wished she could get a potion that would make the people around her tactful and perceptive. She drank the Dry Wine, which wooshed quite a lot of water out of her hair and clothes, and left her bedraggled, but dry. She sighed. Footsteps suddenly separated from the crowd, and stopped behind her. She ignored them, hoping they would go away. They sat down next to her, and belonged to her boss, Danrius.

“Hi Holly,” he said

“Danrius,” she begrudged

“Where’d you uh, put the burglar?”

”I couldn’t catch him.”

”Cool, cool. What do you mean you couldn't catch him? Cause like, call me cuckoo, but I did give you this assignment, of a non-magical burglar, and I teleported you there, to where he was, with my personal office portal, and you had your amulet and everything, and you just… didn’t catch him? I’m just making sure I understand this correctly…”

”Yes, Danrius, that’s- he got away from me.” She rubbed her face.

”Okaaaaayyy, how’d he do that? You’ve got the magic cage spell right? Did you try casting that on him?”

”Yeah, but it didn’t work and he ran, and the magic bolo spell broke on contact, and the running-through-mollasses spell just made a puddle on the ground, and then I had an asthma attack and my inhaler was empty. I filled it up at the pharmacy on my way back.” She stared dejectedly at the empty glass in front of her. There was a long pause, as this information trickled into Danrius’s brain.

”You had an asthma attack?”

”From running after him, yes.”

”Right, ok. See, this is the kind of thing I’m talking about; you don’t even think to cast a flying spell on yourself to save the trouble. Or like, use a floating disc, that’s a classic move. Look Holly, as much as I like you, I’m kind of having an issue, and if you can help me with it that’d be great, but there’s a point where I can’t put more money into an employee than I get out. You have, kind of, not brought in a single bounty this month, and there’s this guy who interviewed with me yesterday, who’s pretty powerful looking. He conjured a whole rainstorm, and it’s still going from yesterday, and as the guy who directs the hiring and maintaining of the wizards here-“

”The manager.”

”Right. As the manager, it’s my job to uh, keep people who can, y’know, consistently cast spells. It’s the main point in the job description on the application.”

”Yeah, but I can do that though, I cast spells all the time!”

”For sure, for sure. But the spell, working, is kind of the point, and if I recall correctly, last two times you brought someone in, you had one tied up in physical ropes, and the other in a pair of, how’d you put it, ‘borrowed?’ Handcuffs? And I just feel like those are pretty non-magical solutions to magical problems, and I’ve been ignoring it for a while, but there’s this guy, Theobold the Thunderous, and he shoots lightning out of his fingers.”

”Are you…? Dan look, if I get the job done, does it really need to be with magic? It just feels like semantics,”

”Somatics, Holly, and no, not really, but, he shoots lightning out of his fingers, and it’s still raining. Look, I’m not happy about this either, but I can’t afford another add-on to the payroll, so as much as it pains me to say ths, I’m gonna have to let you go. We’ve had good times working together, and I know you’ve been putting a lot of hours in, so I’ll give you a few days to say goodbye. As long as you turn in your room key tomorrow, cause I told Theobold he could be moved in by the weekend. Big thanks Holly, I appreciate it!” He stood, slapped her shoulder, and flashed his teeth professionally. Then before she could collect her words, he stepped back into the crowd and was gone.

In two hours, she would collapse face down on her bed. In fifteen hours she would be standing outside the front door, in the still-drizzling rain, trying to summon raccoons. For now she just waved Randy over and asked for a potion of inebriation while she still got free bar. It looked and tasted like rice-milk, and was fully indistinguishable from the real thing, except for its attribute of getting you quite high or drunk, depending on the day. There are more specific potions out there, but they’re more expensive, so naturally, they weren’t here. She fought around the large ice cubes for several minutes before thinking to take them out and depressedly watch them melt on a napkin. She got the next one without ice.

A good while later, she gave up trying to remember the speak-with-marsupial spell, and got up. A headrush became very noticable. It didn’t go away. She compromised, and simply willed herself in the direction of the elevators. Her body successfully took her that way, rather clumsily, but she arrived. It was a magic elevator. The kind with no walls, and a levitator platform. She stepped in, and looked up trepidatiously. The long tunnel swayed above her like a willowy tree trunk that she was somehow inside of. She felt like a bug. She put her amulet in the slot on the pedestal to make it go up. Nothing happened. She realized she forgot to actually do the spell, and tried again, with magic this time. The elevator pad slowly began to rise. She breathed a sigh of relief, and contemplated whether life would be easier beneath the bark of a tree. Her conclusion was interrupted when the pad stopped at the next floor. That was the problem with this elevator, it stopped at every floor, and you had to magic it into going again, every time. She never got it to work every time. The whole place was like that, what with doors with no handles, and elevators with no automation. Wizards were wholly pretentious, she decided. She put her amulet in again, with magic. Nothing happened. She blinked slowly, praying to the god of small mammals (raccoons were still on the mind) that this place would one day go down in wonderfully warm, dry flames. A person swam into her awareness by entering the elevator, and magicking it to go up with their own amulet. She went back to picturing herself as a bug. She wasn’t sure what kind of bug lived in trees, but if she imagined it in first person instead of third person it wouldn’t matter; except she got hung up on how many legs she would have as an unspecified tree bug.

She realized she wouldn’t notice when she arrived to her floor with her eyes closed, so she set aside her insectoid ponderings, and focused. She had no memory of how many floors she’d passed, so she checked the rune stone on the side of the pedestal. It had all the floor numbers in descending order, and each one would light up as the pad stopped there. There were only three left until hers. The person there with her got off of the elevator. She amuleted the pad, with magic.

It took her all of three excruciating minutes to get the pad going again, and then only a few tries at the next stop. She finally reached her floor, and climbed off the pad with great relief. When she felt steady again after what felt like an hour, but was definitely not more than a minute or two, she counted the doors down the long hall till she got to her room, and rediscovered the wonders of old, beat-up mattresses.

Fourteen hours later, here she was, standing in the drizzle attempting to summon raccoons, an hour late on her day’s schedule. It had taken her over an hour to pack, despite only having a duffel bag and her amulet. Said amulet steamed. She wasn’t typically a vengeful person, or very wrathful actually, but ever since she had set foot into that horrible, grand, elegant, fake-marble bounty-wizard-hub, she had been having problems with it. Everything was magic powered, but nothing was automated, so she got stuck everywhere, and hated it. She fiddled with the gem, trying to adjust the rubber band so she could try the summon again. The spells were always worse when the gem got loose, she figured it was something about keeping the etching connected like a sort of circuit. Raccoons were tree animals too, so she didn’t know why they were even here, but Baringer hated them, and they kept setting everything on fire whenever they got inside, thus the one-sided door handle.

She cast the spell again. Her amulet sparked, and after a moment the grass rustled. A small face, familiar with the allure of arson, and well acquainted with the improved flavor of stolen foods, appeared. It was only one raccoon, but it would have to do. She put amulet in door-slot, and focused her magic very poignantly. It opened. She ushered the little creature in, and closed the door behind it, walking away. The grey sky hung heavy, and the pale grass scratched against her robes, but she was an unemployed woman, and couldn’t muster anything resolute to think about it.

After a few hours the sun came out, and she felt a bit better. She wondered about the success of her raccoon, and was in a faintly good mood when she arrived at the nearest inn that night. She booked a room and slept uneventfully.

The next day she entered an actual city, and wandered about a bit. At one point she found an abandoned silk scarf on the sidewalk. It was red with nice geometric designs, so she tied it onto her belt. She bought a pastry from a gluten-free bakery, and felt optimistic about it. The pastry was dry, flavorless, and over-priced, but it was so rare she had pastries she could eat, that she didn’t mind. She decided she would refill her water bottle and find a new place to work. Who knows, maybe a flier would advertise a cool new job she’d be really good at, like taking care of lizards. She found a public drinking fountain, and gratefully filled up her water bottle. As she turned to face the city street, bustling with people and new opportunities, a damp newspaper found its way to her face, and stuck. She peeled it off, debating if it could be considered horror-enough to be the last straw. She decided to read it before she decided.

Half of it was smeared by being damp, but in the middle of the page was an advertisement looking for “Fresh Wizard College Graduates, Looking For Their First Job!” She’d graduated two years ago, and had lost three jobs since then, but she was qualified, and that was what they were really asking. “This is serendipity. This one’s gonna work, I’m gonna get this job, and not fail miserably!” she lied, to no one in particular. She felt confidence rushing through her, along with the paper pulp rubbing off on her fingers. She dutifully took the paper to the bin, and bought a new copy of the same one so she could read the address listed. It was 154th Kennings Ln, just off of Side St. She began her purposeful meander, in hopes of finding a directory board. Or one of those bus stops with the maps on them.

#Holly Kingsley #chapter one #wizard #writing #please be kind #i'm insecure and this is my fun hobby to not stress about #tyyy <3 #my novel attempts

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talldecafcappuccino · 4 months

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tagged by @hondagirll! thank you!

last song: had Waxahatchee on shuffle earlier today because @thatsrightjohngoodman recommended their new song Right Back At It

currently reading: I’m about 100 pages into Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr (a book title I have to keep looking up because I keep mixing up the order of those three words).

last film: I watched 3/4 of Saltburn and then switched to When Harry Met Sally. Still haven’t finished Saltburn.

currently watching: I’m a few episodes into Mrs. Davis after finishing The Leftovers for the first time (and that was right on the tail of Station Eleven so it’s been a good, weird TV start to the year). I also started a rewatch of Jury Duty with my parents tonight because I know they’re going to get a kick out of the final episode.

currently craving: Nothing really but now I’m thinking about what I want to get for breakfast. Mmmmm, breakfast…

three ships: Ted/Rebecca, Luke/Lorelai, Nick/Jess (I’ve only ever read fanfic for one of these ships).

first ship: For fic reading and fandom? Lily/James. In general with other media? Too many animated couples to count. Anastasia/Demetri, the leads from Ferngully, Aurora/Prince Philip, Robin Hood/Maid Marianne, etc etc

favorite color: purple or sage green

currently working on: I just finished crocheting a very small square blanket (I just wanted to see if I could do a fun looking crochet stitch and then finished the two skein I had on hand so it’s small and idk what it’s for but I like it). I have another project on the docket that I hope is relatively easy🤞 Technically still working on my Ted dating fic but I took a two week writing break to do some other creative things and I’m really happy with that decision 🥰

tagging: the first eight people in my notifications @coralreeferband @xspeedytrashx @ohtendril @neveronceintoit @steggyisimmortal @daesmilewings @la-animaux @toast-the-unknowing

#I like that we all keep filling out this survey #it’s fun to get updates on everyone #even though my favorite color is clearly never changing

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jazzmynerule · 2 years

Text

Cars outside

prompt: this is kinda like a part two of ‘gold rush’ but in stiles’ perspective

warnings: none :)

✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿ ✿.｡.:* *:.｡.✿

i’m packing my bags that i didn’t unpack the last time

stiles couldn’t comprehend how somebody could be as beautiful as y/n was

that way she made his stomach churn with butterflies anytime she looked his way

he knew if she was his he’d never let her go

ever

i’m sayin’ “see you again” so many times it’s becoming my tag line

he doesn’t understand how somebody so beautiful could exist

she’s like a rare crystal amongst a bunch of fossils

but you know the truth i’d rather hold you than try to catch this flight

he dreams of having the most perfect life with her

four kids, two boys and two girls, a puppy and a big house in the country surrounded by farms

he would do anything for that girl

even break his own heart

so many things i’d rather say but for now it’s “goodbye”

every day he takes the long route to his locker just so he can pass her and see her angelic like smile

makes his heart pound against his chest like he’s just finished running a marathon

you, say i’m always leavin’

it pangs his heart knowing she’ll never share the same feelings but he can’t help but fall more in love with the girl everyday

she’s like a drug

he’s addicted

you, when you’re sleepin’ alone but the cars outside but i don’t wanna go tonight

“hey y/n, i’m so sorry to ask but do you have an extra pen..? i kinda forgot mine again”

stiles chuckled awkwardly as he turns in his chair to face to big grinned girl

“of course stiles” she smiled as she handed the boy her last pen

“you’ve sucked me dry of my pens stilinksi” she giggled making tender eye contact with him

“yeah sorry about that, i always forget to give them back.. plus i don’t think you want them back anyways i always chew the lids up till there’s nothing left to chew”

she giggled at his words which made his stomach turn into a zoo full of butterflies

“you can keep it” she smiled

i’m not gettin’ in the Addison Lee, unless you pack your bags, you’re comin’ with me

he had to find a partner for the english presentation

he couldn’t go with Scott because he already chose allison and nobody else liked the poor boy

before he could even look for a partner he felt a tap on his shoulder

“wanna be my partner? my friend isn’t here today” y/n smiled up at the tall boy watching his face light up with joy

“don’t even have to ask” he smiled back at the girl

“great! where do you wanna do the project?” she questioned

“we can’t work on it at mine, dads gone a bit cuckoo from the case he’s working on”

“alright so we’ll do it at mine, does tonight after you finish training sound good?” she asked putting her stuff down and grabbing her pen out of her pocket

“yeah tonight works” he replied

the small girl grabbed his hand and wrote her address on his palm

“i’ll see you tonight then” she smiled a toothy smile and walked out of the english classroom

leaving stiles to fist pump the air like a two year old

i’m tired of lovin’ from afar and never being where you are

there he was standing on y/n’s front porch knocking on her door frantically

his heart was pounding a million beats per/minute if that was even possible

he’s never been so nervous in his life and that’s saying something because that boy is anxious mess always

close the windows, lock the doors, don’t wanna leave you anymore

“hey stiles” y/n smiled as she opened the door

‘god she’s perfect isn’t she?’ stiles thought as he saw the girl

her hair was in the messiest bun he’s ever seen, her glasses were hanging to one side as if they’ve been fixed on multiple occasions and her eyes were dripping with sleep

even when she looked like a hot mess

she still made stiles go weak in the knees

ooh-ooh, ah-ah

“hey if you’re tired i can always come back tomorrow?” stiles said taking a step down from her porch

“no it’s fine trust me i was just taking a nap” she half smiled

“you sure y/n?”

“yes stiles”

he was starting to get a weird feeling of guilt in his stomach the more she she told him to stay like he was draining the only energy she had left for the day

i’m starin’ at the same four walls in a different hotel

he couldn’t focus on anything she was explaining for the project

he didn’t understand any of the words she was saying

all he could hear was the mumbles coming from her beautiful lips

the lips he wishes he could peck every second of the day

It's an unfamiliar feelin' but I know it so well

the way she would fix her glasses anytime she looked at stiles made him go crazy

just the way she sat so close to him was driving him insane

he doesn’t understand how somebody like y/n is breathing the same air as him

Oh, but you know the truth I would rather hold you than this mobile in my hand, but I guess it’ll do because for you I would run up my phone bill

“Stiles are you even paying attention?” Y/n sighed setting her pen down on the bed

“uhm duh yeah obviously” stiles scoffs sarcastically

“such a bad liar” she snickered looking in the boys eyes

You say I'm always leavin', You, when you need me the most, But the car's outside, But I don't wanna go tonight, I'm not gettin' in the Addison Lee, Unless you pack your bags, You're comin' with me, I'm tired of lovin' from afar, And never being where you are, Close the windows, lock the doors, Don't wanna leave you anymore

his body felt paralysed like he couldn’t move

her eyes were his favourite part of her

not her pretty pink lips or her squeezable rosy cheeks

her gorgeous glossy y/e/c eyes

the way they soften when they look at him

or how they squint when she laughs

Oh, darling, all of the city lights Never shine as bright as your eyes

“you have the most prettiest eyes y/n” stiles sighed watching as her face grew red

“if this is one of your stupid pranks to play with my emotions stiles that isn’t funny” she laughed dryly seeming as if she thinks he’s lying

“it’s not y/n seriously, you’re eyes are so mesmerising” he smiled down at the girl

even when sitting down he was still a few inches taller

“thank you stiles” she smiled back at the boy

his face held an emotion she never thought she’d see when looking at him

admiration

he placed his hand on her cheek and stroked it lovingly with the pad of his thumb

“the prettiest girl i know” he leant down and whispered in her ear which sent shivers down the girls spine

“no that’s Lydia” y/n whispered back

“nah uh, it’s you” he argued moving back and smiled

“always been you y/l/n, always you” he chuckled lightly

“what do you mean?” she asked tilting her head like a confused puppy

“since third grade i’ve been so unbelievably in love with you it’s like my heart was gonna explode every time you walked past me”

“what? no it can’t have been me i mean you literally stuck hearts on lydia’s papers every english lesson” y/n shot up from her spot on the bed and started fiddling with her fingers

“i did it to everybody y/n, even your papers but i was too scared you’d see so i ripped the page out and kept it in my bag” he answered standing up as well

“oh my god” at this point she felt like she couldn’t breathe like her lungs had collapsed on her

“hey it’s alright if you don’t share the same feelings you know kinda knew you wouldn’t anyways, he smiled down at her trembling figure

before he knew it the girl pulled his face down and gave him a quick peck on the lips as a way of showing him she does like it back

“oh well i guess you do then”

———

a/n: this took me forever and a half to write this.. i lost motivation half way through if you couldn’t tell but i kinda wanted to finish it and get it out there for you guys :)

#stiles stilinski #stiles x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #mieczyslaw stilinski #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf stiles

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writer-in-theory · 1 year

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Hi! So uh, this isn't edited at all. I wrote it on the fly and like, I'm half asleep. BUT! I saw you said you're sad and well, I'm that same anon that asked about prompts a while back. I don't expect you to answer this at all. It's wayyyy too big to post to your blog. That's just, cuckoo bananas. I just don't like seeing people sad. So like, random act of kindness type thing. Yah know? Anyway, hope this cheers you up a little? Maybe? Sorry it's so shit! 😂 but it's something!

“I’m miserable,” Eddie’s voice is just a mumble over the phone. His tone matches his words, defeated.

“What? Why?” Steve’s driving home, squinting through his windshield as rain pours down, wipers not doing much.

There’s a long sigh, Steve thinks he can hear an echo. Eddie must be in the bath. That’s how he knows it was bad. Eddie only ever takes baths on really very bad days.

“Well,” Eddie starts, and sure enough, Steve can hear the splash of water as Eddie moves in it. It’s long winded, Eddie’s explanation, takes a lot of detours because Eddie can never just say things straight. He slept past his alarm. 7Eleven didn’t have yellow Red bull, so he had to settle for regular or die drinking sugar-free. When he got outside it was pouring buckets and he slipped in an oil puddle, lost his breakfast sandwich. Ripped the thigh of his jeans in the process. When he got in his van the sunroof was leaking, leaking down into his new pack of cigarettes. When he went to drink his Red bull it exploded on him. Was extremely late to work and was made to do inventory in the back because he, ‘couldn’t be seen on the floor looking like that.’ “Which, like, whatever Jessica, she was wearing crocs with fishnets. Seriously. So, like, what’s the real crime here?”

“Eddie,” Steve chides, grins anyway.

“Really though, Steve. Anyway,” He takes another deep breath. Goes on about how when he went to put in his AirPods, so he didn’t have to sit in silent torture all day, they weren’t connecting. Which, wasn’t surprising because he phone had busted under the weight of his, ‘not so fat ass’ falling down on it. So, silent torture it was. Then, when he got off work he had therapy, which he was more than relieved to actually go to. He needed to vent. Only, when he got there he had, “bumped into your ex.”

“Tommy?” Steve asks and Eddie groans.

“Billy.”

“Oh.”

“He apparently goes to the same therapist as me. He says ‘hi,’ by the way. Wants to ‘catch up’ with you or whatever.” He’s mumbling again, “Does he drive a classic Camaro?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Asshole,” Eddie tried to say it quietly but Steve heard it none the less. Steve could imagine it. Could see Eddie all dirty, torn clothes, hair clumped up from the Red bull, come face to face with, “He looked like a damn Greek god. Smug, too.” Steve can hear the sneer in Eddie’s voice.

“Don’t worry about him. I’m not interested in catching up. Have you eaten?” There’s a long silence, and Steve can actually hear the loud grumble that emits from Eddie’s stomach. The mention of food probably igniting something in him.

“Big Mac large with a Dr. Pepper and six-piece chicken nuggets, honey mustard. Want an apple pie?”

Eddie stays silent and Steve knows what that means, “And an apple pie,” Steve says, “You finish up your bath, put on my big comfy robe, you know the one that you always steal?” Steve always acts so annoyed by it but he secretly loves it, knows Eddie knows that too, “put on The Fellowship of the Ring, get nice and cozy. I’ll do your hair tonight while you eat.”

Through the silence Steve can hear a small sniffle. It breaks his heart.

“I love you, Eddie,” Steve says, puts his car in park.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“Hold tight, I’ll be home soon,” They say their goodbyes.

---

Steve doesn’t just come home with a big bag full of McDonalds. He comes home with a bouquet of sunflowers and big colorful gerbera daisies and two great big Cinnabon cinnamon buns.

“Uncle Wayne!” Eddie pauses the movie as soon as Steve walks in. He’s leaning forward on the couch, eyes glittering as he looks over the Cinnabon bag. It’s of course not literally Wayne but the next best thing Steve could get him. Eddie had told him once that on rare occasions Wayne would have a night off. Which always meant he could take Eddie to school in the morning, dropping by Cinnabon to grab a quick super indulgent breakfast.

“Fuck, you’re the best,” Eddie says, gets up to help Steve get everything together. Only, Steve gently pushes him back down onto the couch.

“Watch your movie. I’ve got this,” Steve says. With a little hesitation Eddie does as he he’s told and watches as Steve sets the coffee table up for him. He lays out his food and settles the flowers in a vase. From there he makes a cozy little nest of pillows and blankets on the ground between the coffee table and the couch. Eddie shifts down into it easily as he starts to dig into his food.

Steve knows how easily Eddie forgets to feed himself. Always ends up like a wild animal by the end of the day, shoving food in his mouth like he’s never eaten before and doesn’t know when he’ll eat again. Steve settles behind him, wraps his arms around his shoulders, nuzzles his nose through the thick curtain of damp hair and kisses at his neck. Eddie turns his head, looks at Steve. He’s got a mouthful of burger and a fry in his hand and Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his lips, picks up a little bit of Big Mac sauce as he does. He doesn’t care, just licks his lips clean of it.

“That was kind of gross,” Eddie remarks after he swallows, a smile on his face regardless.

“Eh, I suck your dick, so,” Steve shrugs. Eddie nods, gives a look that says, ‘fair enough’ before shoving the fry in his mouth.

“I need a real one,” Eddie says around the fry.

“Real what?” Steve asks and Eddie points at his lips. Steve just smiles and leans down, presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. It’s been years and yet, each time still feels like the first for Steve. Electricity flowing from his lips down to his heart, sparks popping over his skin. He pulls back, opens his eyes before Eddie. Eddie’s just frozen, head pressed back against Steve’s thigh. Eddie takes in a deep breath and slowly his eyes open, focus on Steve. Big brown eyes and they hold so many thoughts. Steve thinks the only one right now being ‘Love’.

“I think I’m going to start prepping breakfasts and lunches for you,” Steve says and watches as Eddie’s eyes glaze over. Thinks they’re now saying, ‘adore’.

“I’d like that,” Eddie says and Steve kisses him again.

They spend the rest of the night watching the movie. Steve settled behind Eddie. He’s working through Eddie’s hair. It’s a long process of different products. Conditioner, curl cream, a special brush that he has to twirl the hair on and over. He’s methodical with it. Takes his time, goes slow and gentle. Halfway through Eddie’s a puddle in his lap, dozing in and out of sleep. When he’s done he’s gently crunching up the newly made ringlets with gel. Takes one of Eddie’s black silk hankies and wraps his hair up in it.

Steve’s careful, so careful, to not wake Eddie. He slips his arms down, picks him up bridal style and moves him to the bed. He’d set it up the way Eddie likes it the best. He’s got every one of their fluffy comforters on it, makes a big nest in the middle of the bed. When he settles Eddie down in the middle of it he grabs their biggest fuzziest faux fur blanket and tosses it over him. When he turns to go and clean up Eddie whines, reaches out a hand and Steve turns to take it.

“Stay,” Is all Eddie says and Steve thinks that clean up can wait until tomorrow. Without hesitation he strips down and settles himself into the nest with Eddie.

There’s only a bit of shifting before they end up in Eddie’s favorite position. The one he likes to call, ‘Steve Bearrington.’ Which is just Eddie being the big spoon but likes to think of it more as Steve being his own personal teddy bear.

Eddie can’t say that he’d ever want another day like this, but if he can spend every night being spoiled by Steve Harrington, he thinks it’s more than worth it.

Sorry I posted this so late, I ended up wanting to hold onto it for awhile and re-read it about a dozen times. It's so so sweet and definitely helped me through some rough days, so thank you very much for sharing this with me 💜

Also your choice of Eddie's comfort meal is literally perfect and I love it.

#ask jay #anon #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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rphelperblog · 2 years

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Wandavision Quote Rp Meme

inspired by @capricious-disaster

“But what is grief, if not love persevering?”

“In a real magic act everything is fake.”

“They’ll never know what you sacrificed for them.”

“You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you're my love.”

“I have what I want and no one will ever take it from me again.”

“I don’t understand this power. But I will.”

“Thanks for the lesson…but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.”

“I did not break your rules. They simply bent to my power.”

“Can I help you creeper?”

“She’s your meat puppet, I just cut her strings.”

“The urge to run from this feeling is powerful.”

“It’s not like your dead husband can die twice.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I have everything under control.”

“There are rules in life. We can’t rush aging just because it’s convenient. And we can’t reverse death.”

“You tied your family to this twisted world and now one can’t exist without the other.”

"We are in uncharted waters."

"We are an unusual couple, you know?"

"We don't have an anniversary or a song."

"Life moves fast out in the suburbs."

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed. You’re gonna need me.”

“I’ll let you keep this pathetic little corner of the world all to yourself.”

“And I was told you were powerful.”

“You’re not my neighbor. And you’re definitely not my friend. You are a stranger and an outsider.”

“Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you to the block. My Mother-in-Law was in town, so I wasn’t.

“Life moves pretty fast in the suburbs.”

“She was literally one split end from cutting her own bangs.”

“Halloween’s a magical holiday. All about family, friends, and the thrill of getting to be someone else for a day.”

“It wasn’t so hard to fit in after all. And all we had to do was be ourselves."

“I’m not what you say I am.”

“The world’s not the same as you left it.”

“The only way forward is back.”

“Given the chance and given your power, I’d bring my mom back. I know I would.”

“I only remember feeling completely alone. Empty. I just… Endless nothingness.”

I’ve always been alone, so I don’t feel the lack. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

"And they lived happily ever after."

"I've never experienced loss because I've never had a loved one to lose."

"Boy oh boy, I thought I had super speed. I can't keep up."

“Oh, are you sure, dear? Many hands make light work. And many mouths make good gossip.”

“Today, we will lie to you, and yet you will believe our little deceptions, because human beings are easily fooled due to their limited understanding of the inner workings of the universe.”

“How is anyone doing this sober?”

“That accent really comes and goes, doesn’t it?”

“You could point out that the death rate of single men is twice that of married men.”

“I can’t feel you.”

“You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly, you’re my love.”

“Thanks for the lesson…but I don’t need you to tell me who I am.”

“We don’t have an anniversary or a song.”

“Well I think this line of questioning is fruitless!”

“We’ve all been there right? Letting our fear and anger get the best of us, intentionally expanding the borders of the false world we created.”

“If tonight doesn’t go well, I think this could be the end.”

“Neither for me thank you, I don’t eat food.”

“You tied your family to this twisted world and now one can’t exist without the other.”

“You’re magic’s no good here.”

“Don’t use the last five years as an excuse to be a coward.”

“What kind of housewife would I be if I didn’t have a gourmet meal for four just lying about the place.”

“You try telling a 10-year-old that his mother is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

“I actually did bite a kid once.”

“The energy inside has re-written your cells on a molecular level twice.”

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lindsaywesker · 3 months

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Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day. Welcome to the weekend!

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

Yesterday, we watched a Netflix movie called ‘Players’. Now, as you know, I am the rom-com king, I love them and, no, I’m not a big girl’s blouse, I’m just a romantic. I love emotion, I love soul, I love passion. I watch a lot of films in this genre and ‘Players’ is very poor. Halfway through the film, we knew how it was ending. This is not good! Saw a good interview with Sting the other day, where he said that if he isn’t surprised within the first eight bars, he stops listening! Brutal, I know, but he’s a trained musician and he needs to be musically stimulated. Same with me and rom coms. I need original characters; I need plot twists and I need surprises. This was very, very generic and predictable. I wish I had a literary agent, so I could get my novel to Netflix.

The Trouble enjoyed ‘Players’, which is unlike her; she prefers science fiction and fantasy. Give her Star Trek, Star Wars, Harry Potter or Lord Of The Rings and she’s happy. I guess the thing that irritated me about ‘Players’ is that Netflix were repeating a tried and tested formula. I hate formulas! Is anybody creating tracks like ‘Stairway To Heaven’, ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, ‘I’m Not In Love’ or ‘In The Air Tonight’ anymore. No! Most new TV shows, most new movies and most new music follows a formula. Shock me! Surprise me! Stimulate me! Is it too much to ask for? Is there anybody out there making something as good as ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’, ‘Terms Of Endearment’ or ‘Slumdog Millionaire’? Probably not.

Really hope you can join me tomorrow for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’. The first part of The Letter T (Pt. 1). Executive Producer: Mary Onoufriou. If you love soul music, you will love this show.

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy

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creativedistortion · 5 months

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BELLE & SEBASTIAN – THE USHER HALL, EDINBURGH 9th JULY 2023

Belle & Sebastian are my favourite band. Tonight was going to be special as it was my 40th B&S gig (yes fortieth), it was 2 days before my 50th birthday and we had travelled to Edinburgh to meet a couple of my pals who were relatively new to B&S.

We arrived early and headed as close to the front as we could, we were all buzzing and looking forward to another B&S gig. There had been 2 new albums released since the last time I had seen them, and it wasn’t clear what the set list would reveal.

I have no idea what it is about B&S that makes me love them so much. They are from Glasgow, have 12 studio albums, I have seen them in almost every venue in Glasgow and have met most of the band just wandering about the west end. They have a devoted fan base but couldn’t be described as commercially successful, but I just love them. The inclusion of keyboards, strings, percussion, and occasional brass, leads to some of the most wonderful twee indie pop.

The opened with Nobody’s Empire from their 2015 Girls in Peacetime Want to Dance album the straight into I’m A Cuckoo from probably B&S’s most successful album Dear Catastrophe Waitress that was produced by Trevor Horn.

I sometimes think I should apologise to those around me at a B&S gig for my enthusiastic singing of every word of every song, that’s then point though, isn’t it? The set progressed and was covering most of the albums, including a couple of older less played songs, which was nice.

Suddenly, the keyboards kicked in for The Boy with The Arab Strap, and I ran forward and for the first time in 40 B&S gigs I got onstage and danced for 2 songs along with around 20 other devoted fans. This is a normal event at a B&S gig but the first time I’ve felt the necessity to take part. It was scary when facing over 2000 B&S fans from the stage, but I loved every second but hadn’t realised how many people I knew in the crowd from the messaged I got after the gig.

After my brief time on stage the band played some of my favourite songs, immediately after was The State I’m In, which was the first B&S song I ever heard and immediately started a 23-year love affair. Three classic songs made up the encore and the night ended. The gig had flown in, and we drove back to Glasgow via Dunfermline on a high. What a band, what a gig.

5 stars

#Belle & Sebastian #B&S #Usher Hall #Edinburgh #Indie #Indie music

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

You Can Hear It In The Silence

Summary: Sneaking around can be fun, but sometimes the silence is just too quiet, or falling in love with your best friend.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem Reader (SMUT) MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Smut Minors DNI (It’s smut, nothing kinky but very romantic and soft) oral (both receiving), kissing, lovebites and tame scratching, penetrative sex, unprotected sex in a committed relationship(like last time, let me know if I missed anything)

Author’s Note: Minors please DNI, I have a lot of other fluff pieces that are totally acceptable for you guys to read. I hope that this isn’t too schmaltzy because that just gives me agita. This is based off You are In Love by Taylor Swift and maybe a little bit of Dress

You Can Hear It In The Silence

It’s a blurry line, going from best friends to dating. There’s nothing like playing that dangerous game of stolen glances and surreptitious touches in a dark room. Eyes ranking over figures decked out in soft cardigans and tweed blazers or black dress pants and silk blouses, desperately wanting to see more, touch more, taste more. The senses could only sated for so long before the desire for more bubbles to the surface.

Across the table, Spencer watches as Y/N sips the red wine JJ brought over. It’s hard to not watch her; to not completely hone in on the way her eyes are light with laughter, or the way her hair cascades down her shoulder, blending into the dark green color of her dress. Spencer kills himself trying to not look at her because he knows if he does, he’s done. Or rather, he knows that if he lets himself love her openly, he’ll only end up hurting themselves. So, he sits there, in Derek’s backyard trying to pretend that he’s not staring at Y/N. The only thought that comforts him is holding on to the idea that Y/N is doing the same thing. He supposes that’s what happens to relationships that blossom from the shadows of secrecy. In their attempts to not hurt others, they end up almost destroying themselves.

He decides to pretend to find Garica’s cuckoo clock fascinating. He stares at the wacky colored birds and swinging arms entirely too long. In the corner of his eye Spencer watches the next couple of moments unfold. JJ and Garcia drunkenly bounce over to Y/N; they put their arms around her in a fit of giggles and smiles. Garcia’s arm extends around JJ’s neck and she lets out a loud announcement for a “Selfie” or rather what Spencer can only assume is a photograph of the three of them. The phone, even though Spencer does have some disdain for the invention, sure does serve its purpose. In all the light rays bouncing around and the blinding flash, pure magic happens. Spencer is aware that it makes him sound like a total sap, but he’s jealous of the phone. He’s jealous that his eidetic memory may only allow him to remember the Y/N’s notes in the margins of her case file or the annual “Happy Birthday, Genius” on a Hallmark card once a year. What he would give to just be able to capture her in the light of company, not hanging on to fleeting memories in the shadows.

Lost in his thoughts, Spencer does not notice an unusually drunk Unit Chief wandering over to the empty chair next to him. All of his awkwardness, Spencer is not sure if he should acknowledge his drunken boss or stop staring at his secret girlfriend. It’s at time like these that Spencer resorts to reciting Crime and Punishment or 100 Years of Solitude either seem ironically appropriate.

“Reid,” Hotch says, leans in close, far too close for the usual uptight and business-like Aaron Hotchner that Spencer has grown to know.

“Hotch?” Spencer answers, his voice laced with trepidation and anxiety.

“You gotta stop staring at Y/L/N. You’re gonna rat on yourselves if you don’t stop staring at her like that,” Hotch tells him, his breath might smell like whiskey, but his eyes tell Spencer that he’s a lot more sober than he seems.

“Like what?” Spencer counters, choosing to play dumb at best as he could, or at least just slightly clueless.

“That doesn’t work on me, Reid. You should stop looking at her like you love her,”

Spencer looks at his boss, at Y/N, and back at his drink. Was he seriously that transparent?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Hotch. Y/N and I are-”

“Spence! Spencer!,” Y/N shouts as she practically runs over to where Spencer sits with Hotch, watching the rest of the team.

It’s like Hotch isn’t even there anymore, it’s like no one is even there. God, it might sound sappy, but Spencer doesn’t care anymore. It’s going to kill him playing it like he doesn’t care about Y/N, especially considering he’s doing a mediocre job.

“I have a really bad headache, Spence. And I need you to take me home,” Y/N asks him, and Spencer notices an eager glint in her eyes that tells him all he needs to know.

“Keep this between us please, Hotch? Just until we figure it out,” Spencer almost pleads to Hotch who answers with a dismissive wave. He leaves them there to figure out their plans to sneak out of Garcia’s undetected.

“Hotch knows? Of course you know,” Y/N says with a roll of her eyes and a quick wink at Spencer, whose growing embarrassment from the situation is only second to his excitement at the night to come.

“Spence, go say goodbye for me? I’m going to head to your car. You really gotta sell that I’m feeling sick,” Y/N tells him, standing a little too close and dipping her hand a little too low on Spencer’s waist for this to be a friendly gesture to any of their friends that might pass by. She takes a peak around the room and reaches her hand into Spencer’s pocket. He gives her a startled glance, but they both know that the thrill of sneaking around like this is kind of worth it.

As Y/N ducks out of the room, Spencer makes his way to where Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Derek sit at the kitchen table taking shots of a clear liquid Spencer thinks is tequila. Great, Spencer thinks. Him and his secret girlfriend, who as far as the team knows is his best friend, have to sneak out of Garica’s place in front of a pile of loud drunks. Spencer feels his phone buzz, altering him that there is a very impatient Y/N waiting in the car for him

“Uh, Garcia, Y/N’s got a really bad headache. I think it’s an onset of one of her migraines that she gets from red wine,” Spencer lies through his teeth, completely terrified from the way Emily glares at him. It’s like she can see right through him.

“So you’re taking her home?” Derek asks, speeding along the process and for that Spencer considers himself forever grateful.

“Yeah, you know we are neighbors after all,” Spencer reasons.

The awkward silence in the kitchen is only interrupted by JJ’s quiet humming to the song that plays in the background. Derek and Emily share a knowing glance as Penelope starts pouring the next round of shots.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday, Y/N is waiting for me in the car,” Spencer says without a further glance to his very perceptive colleagues.

“You go take care of Y/N, Pretty Boy!” Derek yells as Spencer walks out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him, perhaps a little too eagerly.

When Spencer gets to his car, he stops himself before opening the door. In the light from the lamppost, Spencer can see his reflection in the back window of his car. He runs a hand through his hair and attempts to fix the crookedness of his tie. Smiling to himself, Spencer gets into the driver’s seat of his car and is greeted by Y/N, who even in the dark makes him feel alive.

“Hey,” he offers nervously. Even though they’ve been together loads of times, there is a tingle of intimidation that settles in his heart everytime she looks at him.

Never the one to shy down from a confrontation, Y/N leans in and places her hand gracefully on Spencer’s neck and her face looms close to his ear. Her voice is low and seductive and Spencer swears he can feel himself melt at the feeling of her being this close and him able to touch her. He brings his hands up to rest, one on her upper thigh, placed bravely under the slip of her silk dress, and the other draws circles around her elbow..

“Spencer, I need you to drive us home,” Y/N tells him a voice that Spencer knows he could never deny.

He doesn’t answer her, because the silence speaks for itself. They can hear all they need to know in the silence. The quiet way that their bodies seem to just gravitate to each other. Spencer’s hand cups Y/N’s thigh and her fingers graze the back of Spencer’s neck. It’s those quiet touches that tell the other what they are too afraid to say aloud.

The quietness settles between them even as they pull into the parking spot. It’s like they’re dance partners, completely a routine of sneaking in the shadows effortlessly. Or like they’re actors in a play, pretending that they’re not dying to play the role in reality. It’s a dangerous game that they play. But all of that is forgotten, pushed to the side as Spencer opens the door and the curtain rises.

Y/N initiates the kiss, pushing Spencer down on the couch. She straddles his waist, her silky green dress spills over her thighs and Spencer is in awe of how the color contrasts against her bare skin. He’s not an artist, but looking at her he’s sure he has laid his eyes on the most beautiful being he’s ever seen. He might not believe in magic, it’s all just science and mind tricks, but he’s nothing but transfixed at the women sitting in his lap.

“Spencer, please get these clothes off,” Y/N commands in a voice that gives away how badly she wants him.

“Wait your turn, Y/N” Spencer says in a teasing tone that brings out Y/N’s sly smile.

“Then do something!” Y/N shouts, getting even more impatient than she was in the car.

“You’re so beautiful like this, I-I mean you’re always so beautiful, but you’re just so-” Spencer stammers over his words, and the only thing he’s sure of is that his insecurity is the biggest turn off. But Y/N continues to surprise him each and everyday, and tonight is no less.

“Slow down, baby. It’s just me. There’s no need to go so fast right now. We have all night,” Y/N soothes, craning down her neck to plant wet kisses down Spencer’s neck. She’s probably leaving marks, Spencer thinks, but his desire to be seen as her’s outweighs the teasing from Morgan on Monday.

The fact that it’s Y/N perched in his lap, kissing down his neck and wiggling around in a way that she can feel everything does nothing to fend off the adrenaline that Spencer’s high off of.

“I need to see your face,” Spencer says holding her by the shoulders. He reaches around her as she leans back to unzip her dress. She stands so it falls to the ground in a pool of dark green fabric. Her body is out in the open to him and Spencer’s flushed face must be on fire by now.

“I need to see your face, Spencer,” Y/N says in a way that Spencer knows that he can’t disobey.

There’s that silence again. That loud silence, filled with lines of unsaid love poems and quiet love songs. The silence that says the perfect things that Y/N deserves to hear, but Spencer is too scared to say. Three months too soon to say, I love you, Spencer tells himself. His mind spins so fast that he feels guilty for neglecting the naked woman standing before him.

“If you’re gonna fuck me Spence, we’re gonna do it in a bed. I love you and all but this couch is not going to handle me when I get a hold of you,” Y/N says as she runs off into his bedroom, leaving Spencer dumbfounded in her wake.

Spencer swallows down his fears and anxieties. He sheds his clothes off during his walk to the bedroom. Y/N lies down on his bed and Spencer won’t let the silence speak for him this time.

“How are you this perfect, Y/N?” Spencer asks as he crawls in between Y/N’s legs. He rests his hands on her upper thighs and looks at her like expects her to answer his question. Spencer dips his fingers down to the place Y/N wants him the most. In the low light from Spencer’s lamp he can see how his fingers glisten.

“You took too long at Penny’s Spence, I had to start without you,” Y/N explains, a slight flush to her cheeks reminds Spencer that she too is just as affected by him as he is by her.

“You touched yourself in my car?” Spencer asks pressing a firm kiss on each side of Y/N hip bones. He dances his long fingers up to her stomach, where her own hands sit as if she’s shielding this part from him.

“Yeah,” Y/N tells him, slightly breathless from the small kisses Spencer places on her stomach and back down to the softest part of her inner thighs. He tells himself that he’s got to slow himself down before he loses it at the site Y/N wriggling and moaning at his smallest touches.

“I left you a present in your glove compartment, Spence,”

“Huh, who knew I had such a naughty girl,” Spencer says with an unfamiliar bravery in his voice. Unsurprisingly, Y/N picks up on this and decides to see how far she can take it.

“I have needs, Spencer. Do you think you can take care of them?”

Spencer doesn’t respond, but ducks his head down to drag his tongue across her clit, feeling how wet she is. He refuses to break eye contact and realizes how obsessed he would get if she’d let him do this for the rest of his life. Spencer’s eyes carefully watch how Y/N’s facial expressions morph in intense pleasure. It’s like a science experiment. When he plunges his tongue into her, she closes her eyes. But when he blows softly on her inner thighs then leaves hot, wet kisses her fingers come up to latch onto his scalp. He peers at her and waits for the way she moans when he slips one, then two fingers in her. He curls them up in such a way that he knows drives her crazy.

“Oh my God, Spencer! Please,” Y/N cries, twisting in the sheets. He continues at the pace he’s set, chasing the blissful feeling of her coming undone because of him. The moments leading up to her release, Y/N tears her hand away from Spencer’s head and connects her palm into his. Holding her hand, Spencer whispers praises and presses small kisses into her pussy.

“Come here and kiss me now, baby. I need you,” Y/N whispers, grasping onto whatever parts of Spencer she could touch. Her fingers move to cup his face and she holds him like he’s made of glass. In between the soft sheets and even softer touches, Spencer knows what it’s like to feel precious. Y/N cranes her head forward to attack Spencer’s neck with kisses. She relishes in the soft and supple skin of his neck. Once again, Spencer finds himself not caring that she’s going to leave marks.

“How are you this perfect, Spencer?” Y/N asks Spencer, who for the first time in his life does not have an answer for a question.

He closes his and lets himself float around in the fuzzy feeling in his brain. All he can focus on is Y/N’s mouth. The way her praises make him believe in forever and the way her kisses litter his cheeks, eyes, chest.

“You’re the perfect one, Y/N. I don’t even compare,” Spencer says as he watches Y/N twist underneath him and somehow maneuver herself so he lies beneath her.

“None of that, Spencer” She tells him sharply. Y/N drags her nails down Spencer’s chest, not leaving scratches, just light discoloration. Her head and mouth is dangerously close to where his hardened cock lays leaking between his legs.

She grasps around the base and just gingerly touches him that Spencer is sure he’s going to be blinded from the pleasure. Suddenly he feels almost self conscious. His anxiety is not unknown to Y/N, who lays a comforting hand in his, mirroring her earlier motion.

“You don’t have to Y/N. I mean if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to think just because I’m your boyfriend and I did it for you-” Spencer rushes out, terrified of what Y/N’s reaction will be.

“Look at me, Spencer. Do you want me to suck your cock, baby? Look at me,” Y/N says in a voice that Spencer doesn’t recognize and doesn’t dare ignore.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his voice shakes as he feels Y/N’s mouth take in his tip. He hisses at the sensation. The smallest movements set him on fire. Spencer’s large hands come up to hover over Y/N’s shoulder blades.

“Don’t be quiet, baby. I want to hear you,” Y/N says before she deepens her hold of. She releases him to glide her younger down the side, sending shockwaves of pure pleasure in Spencer’s entire being.

“You like that, Spencer. You like my mouth on your cock, baby?” Y/N eggs him on.

Even though he’s lost the ability to speak, Spencer’s moans bounce around the room. He knows he’s a whimpering mess below Y/N, but he’s chasing the feeling of release shamelessly.

“Y/N, Y/N. Baby, you gotta stop. Or I’m gonna cum right now,” Spencer chants, tightening his grip on Y/N’s hand. He forces himself to calm down to focus on Y/N, but it’s a little difficult when all Y/N is focusing on him.

Spencer sat up, his back against the headboard, and he pulled Y/N forward so she rested in his lap. She grins up at him, and Spencer can feel his heart squeeze at the look. She’s going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die a happy man.

Much to Y/N’s pleasure, Spencer lets out a lewd moan as she grinds down, pressing her wet pussy to his throbbing cock. He feels a little ridiculous getting so worked up and she’s not even inside him yet.

“Please, Y/N. I need you, I’m not going to last long,” Spencer utters. He says her name like a prayer, it’s a hymn to her ears.

“I got you, Spence,” she tells him, sheathing his length into her.

Spencer pulls Y/N in closer so that their chests are flush together. Among the chorus of moans and mumbles of praise, Spencer reaches down to hold Y/N’s hand. He’s not a believer in soulmates. He was sure that he’d never find his match. Never find the one person who’d share his dreams and become his dream. But sitting there, Spencer cannot deny that he’s tethered to Y/N. Their hands link together and mouths refuse to let go, searching for any exposed skin.

“Spencer,” Y/N groans, leaning her forehead into his. She looks into his eyes and Spencer dares to wonder if her eyes are glassy because of him. It’s magic how someone like her can make a believer, a dreamer out of a man afraid of living.

Spencer closes his eyes in pure ecstasy. Y/N sucks along the tender skin of his chest, causing him to flush at her ministrations. He can feel her tighten inside him, so he snakes his fingers down to stroke her clit, exciting moans and more fervent kisses along his chest and up to his ear.

“Just like that, Spence. You’re so perfect my sweet boy,”

“Y/N, cum on me, cum on me baby,” Spencer cries, finally able to let go as he feels himself come undone underneath Y/N.

Spencer’s whimpers and constant moans set Y/N over the edge. She mewled into Spencer’s shoulder, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin. As her orgasm rakes over her body, Y/N tugs on Spencer’s hair, suddenly quite happy he’s keeping it almost shoulder length.

Both of them feel their bodies come back to life, their breathing steadies and their hearts seem to beat a little bit slower. Gone were the array of moans. Gone was the burning desire to chase their release. Gone was the sound of praise. All that stands between Spencer and Y/N is the silence. The silence that says quite enough for them.

The silence that’s braver than Spencer.

He’s quiet as Y/N flops to his side, entirely spent and tired from the company of friends and strenuous activities that just transpired.

“I know what you’re thinking, Spence” She offers, turning to her side to look at him. He gives her a straight faced smile, unsure of how to approach the subject. He knows that she knows what he’s thinking about, sometimes even before he’s thinking about it.

“I meant it, Spencer. I really do love you,” Y/N professes, finally breaking the silence. Spencer swallows as his eyes scan the girl before him.

“You’re my best friend, Y/N,” Spencer says quietly, and suddenly realizes that it’s probably not what a girl who just confessed her love for you wants to hear. But he knows that Y/N understands-- she understands him.

“What I mean is, I want midnight coffee nights with you. I want small talk and deep conversations and everything in between,” Spencer says quickly. “I want you in secret Y/N, but I want you in public too,”

Spencer watches his confession settle into Y/N’s face. He’s scared for the rejection, for the daylight to break on his dream.

“I’ve waited for you to say that for so long, Spence,” She says, leaning in to close the gap between their naked bodies. Spencer pulls her in to rest his chin on top of Y/N’s head. It’s comforting being there, feeling her heartbeat in the tune of his own. He feels safe, wrapped up around in Y/N.

They’re sweaty and smell like sex, but Spencer doesn’t care. His hair is messy and he’s exhausted, but Spencer doesn’t care. His neck and chest are littered with lovebites and marks, but Spencer doesn’t care. After months of running around in the shadows, months of letting the unsaid say what he desperately wants to say, months of being patient but dying with anticipation, Spencer doesn’t care. Spencer doesn’t care because on Monday morning, Y/N won’t drop his hand when they walk into the bullpen.

THANK YOU FOR READING!!

Taglist: @calm-and-doctor

Comment or send in an ask if you’d like to be tagged (please specify if you don’t want to be tagged in NSFW, but make sure your age is in your bio)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fics #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader

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flowerfeast444 · 2 years

Text

you were a house on fire || h.s. {pt 1}

harry styles x o.c.

summary: After One Direction’s break, Harry tried his best to live anonymously in Chicago. He always told himself he could date "normal" people. After all, he's a normal person too, right?

word count: 1.3k

series masterlist

She sifted through the green bills again, ensuring fatigue didn't cause any errors in her counting. The girls in her diner deserved evenly split tips; they all work hard, she knows that. She's been where they are, and tips- they're life or death sometimes. The bell above the front door chimed, unsettling her focus. This time of night always put her on high alert, but knowing Lucas was just behind the wall separating the kitchen from the main dining area brought comfort.

Tonight’s patron was a man; alone, only accompanied by a worn leather journal and thick gray scarf. He kept his head down the entire time he led himself to a booth in the far left corner. Usually, this profile of a man would shoot anxiety up her spine. But whether it was the near-visible rain cloud floating over the man’s head or her sheer lack of energy, she found herself standing adjacent to his table only moments after he arrived.

“Hello,” she placed the tattered menu on the table in front of him, “Take your time looking, just call me over when you’re ready to order. I’m Roe.” He nodded in response.

Roe shuffled back to her perch by the register and tried to finish splitting tips as quickly as possible. Every few seconds, she spared a glance at the man in the booth. His dark brows knitted together, shadowing the rest of his sharp features. He remained hunched over the menu until a cuckoo clock on the wall next to him screeched the arrival of three A.M. and made him jolt. He scratched his neck underneath the curls dusting his collar bones. Finally, he called Roe's name uncertainly and she hopped off her stool once again to hover by his table.

He gently asked for a slice of apple pie and a cup of tea. Roe brought him his order and against her fair judgment sat across from him as she did so. He bit his lip, wanting to reject her boldness before he realized the empty pit in his stomach craved more than just food.

“This pie is good.”

“It’s from Costco,” she smirked, “but I will take all of the credit anyway.”

“It’s good,” he complimented gently as if she would leave him were he to speak too loudly.

“Good.”

He took his time drawing the fork to his lips like this was exactly what he was meant to be doing for the rest of his life. Before the man arrived, Roe considered preparing a slice of pie for herself, but the strong cinnamon scent of it in front of her satisfied her enough for now. It wasn’t often that soft, kind men occupied the diner at this hour, so she did her best to paint it in her memory forever. The dark beige of his coat contrasted the starkness of his pale skin, but somehow it worked together well. The coat was made of pure wool, at least she assumed so. She couldn't recall a time seeing such a thing. He had three rings on each hand, each of them was intricate and glittered brighter than any of the cutlery in the diner. With only two bites of his pie left, Roe addressed him again.

“Are you okay?” she set her chin on her palm, absentmindedly reaching her fingers up to twist the ring in her right nostril.

“What do you mean?” his voice was strained, but that could be written off as fatigue. At least, he thought so.

“Ruby’s Diner is nice and all, but it doesn’t seem like a place you’d frequent when you’re really livin’ it up. Especially not at this hour,” she tried to withhold anything but a neutral tone from her words, but judging by the way his bloodshot eyes fell to the crumbs left on his plate when she spoke, she knew she was unsuccessful.

“Just a rough couple of days, you know.” He shrugged halfheartedly.

“Yeah, I know.”

For the rest of that night- or morning rather, words seemed a sparse occurrence. Roe’s co-worker, Jodie, came near three-thirty to let Roe go home. Although she felt the weight in her limbs and eyelids as she traveled back home, sleep held itself from her. The only thing that consumed her headspace was the unnamed man with the apple pie.

Friday floated by innocuously enough with regular customers at the diner asking for this and that. They were relatively polite too; something rare in this part of Chicago. Heat blasted through the restaurant but inevitably yielded to the temperatures outside, causing Roe’s arm hair to stand on end from the bumps raised on her skin. Each plate placed in front of an individual was one more minute closer to the day concluding in sweatpants and blankets. She already felt the warmth begin to radiate in her as she neared her house. River stood at the coffee table, running Hot Wheels over the scratched surface. She felt she should reprimand him, but the table was already beyond repair with little original varnish left, and his cheeks always did look so soft when he gleamed and giggled like that. The warmth Roe had built up, however, immediately dissipated when she caught a glimpse into the kitchen.

”Ari, ” Roe exhaled, shocked, ”What are you doing here?” Arielle’s slender body turned from the kitchen table to face her. She cast her eyes to the ground, tucking her long curled hair behind her left ear. Roe’s heart beat rapidly against her will.

”Hey baby, thought I'd join you for dinner.” Roe remembered the bags of diner food hanging in her hands. She ignored the other woman at first, merely whispering an ”excuse me” as she sped past her to dump the bags on the table.

”I told you, you don't get to call me that anymore.”

Roe unpacked the now cold food. The scent of bread and roast beef summoned the rest of Roe’s family, and she heard their footsteps and chattering grow louder, but she kept her focus on the dinner in front of her.

”Can I help?” Arielle reached a hand to rest on Roe’s forearm. She flared in irritation but made no move to alter their position.

”Keep unpacking the food. I'll get plates.” She kept her voice as monotone as possible, not seeking to invite an argument. As Roe reached in the cabinets next to the sink, a more welcome hand lay on her shoulder. Lucas. Roe took a deep breath and prepared for what might come from her brother’s mouth.

”I tried to get her to leave, I really did. But, she's stubborn, ” he softened his voice in an attempt to keep their conversation private.

“Unfortunately, I’m very aware of that.”

“Do you want me to pick her up and just throw her out on the sidewalk? I can do that if you want,” he joked.

“No, Lucas, it’s okay,” she yawned and pulled her auburn hair away from her face, “there’s no use in fighting her right now. I’ll make sure she’s gone before I have to drop the kids off at school. I can take River with me during my shift at the shop too. I know you’re busy tomorrow.”

He shook his head, eyebrows wound tightly together. His muscles bulged as he crossed his arms, angry heat radiating off of him, “I know you loved her, but I thought after everything, you decided she wasn’t good for you anymore. I don’t care if you’re lonely or horny or whatever, she can’t keep coming back, Rosalie. It’s not healthy.”

Roe turned away from him. The kids already began eating spare fries and chicken tenders despite the fact that Roe still held all of the plates in her hands. The table bubbled with conversation, yet despite all of the commotion, Arielle locked eyes with Roe.

“I know,” Roe conceded, “I know.”

#harry styles #hs #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #harry styles x oc #one direction #1direction

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nami-healer · 2 years

Text

Decompression Pt.1

Summary: Revali and Nami spend some time together after being apart. Directly follws on from Endemic.

Words: 1700

Age Rating: All Audiences

Warnings: Badly written Fluff. Bullies.

“This is all your bags?” Revali’s voice was shocked, almost disbelieving as you hummed in confirmation “You didn’t buy anything on your way here?”

You shrug half-heartedly “Extra clothes wasn't really a concern on my trip here” You could’ve ordered something form the local tailor here, they had been happy to work on clothing for the Gerudo and Hateno healers with better suited clothing.

Revali conceded with a nod, as he stepped around you to scoop up your bags, he casually threw them over his shoulder. Momentarily you found yourself jealous of his strength, you wish you had the ability to lug heavy weight about like that, you would have had to carry them out one by one yourself.

“Vali. As nice as it is to see you” You fold your hands behind your back as you speak, cocking a hip “Don't you want to check on your friends?”

Revali huffs a small laugh at you as he strides out your little tent, making for the small cart “Vane will forgive me”

You dart after him to walk beside him, and steer him on the right path, your belongings weren’t going in the carts but up to Swallow’s Roost. You tugged his wing slightly to steer him toward the village, smirking slightly Revali intentionally dragged you along for a couple of steps before stopping.

“Vali” You laugh, exasperated “I’m spending tonight at the Roost in the village”

“Alright” He playfully hops away from your reaching fingers as your tried to take one of your bags.

“Vali, at least give me one” You sigh, you knew they were heavy and didn’t want him hauling them about after what must have been a strenuous flight to get here. Your letter would have only reached the king this morning and he had turned up before noon.

Revali leads you on a little dance, as you chase him for a few moments trying to take one of your bags back. His spirits were high, his mood boosted by just being able to come home. He was quick even on foot, twisting and turning in small hops and jumps to keep your bags just out of reach. The weight clearly meant nothing to him.

Eventually you throw your hands up, accepting your defeat “Fine! You win”

Revali laughed, as he adjusted the bags onto one wing, gesturing to you with his free wing to lead the way.

“Why the Roost?” He finally asks the question you knew was coming.

“I'm heading to Tabantha Village tomorrow morning” The stable would be set up with a bed for you if you asked them, but you didn’t know if you would be able to sleep well there after the death you had witnessed in there. You needed time to process it all still. “My sister just got married, I missed the ceremony because of work”

His brow creased slightly, deep in thought “I don’t believe you mentioned her before” he says quietly.

You make a small noise in surprise “Her name’s Yuna, she’s about your age” you side-eye him with a small smirk “You’ll like her, she isn't hard to impress”

He snorts, shaking his head at you “You’ll have to tell me about her sometime”

You nod enthusiastically at him, letting out a small sigh as you think of Yuna “Of course, I have a lot of embarrassing stories for you. She likes to try and frighten away anyone who shows interest in me. Says she’s stepping in for dad”

“You think she can frighten me?” Revali scoffs playfully, turning his beak up

“Ive seen men twice her size flee from her” You shake you head as you begin to ascend the stairs into the village “She's a force to be reckoned with”

You wanted to ask him about his family, he had never spoken of his either and you were curious to know what his family background was like. But you had heard some nasty rumours and snide comments from the sick elders while you healed them, that made you restrain your curiosity. The names they had been using would be hurtful if he’d heard them, ‘Useless Cuckoo’ being the most prominent. You had been forced to silently listen as they insulted their champion behind his back.

The term ‘Cuckoo’ had been one you learnt during your training days here, it was an incredibly nasty name for a chick with no parents to care for them.

You didn’t know what Revali’s circumstances were, whether he was an orphan or just pushed out the nest but the elders made sure every healer heard them complain about him. Calling him names for being without parents, but in the same breath they cursed him for not returning during a pandemic and risking his health for them.

“Perhaps I’ll find out one day” He smirked, stopping at the entrance of the Inn as you did.

You grin “Unless you disappear on me, you will” Rummaging in your pocket you pull out your rupee pouch. “I’ll buy us something for lunch at the Falcon if you book me a bed?”

At his agreement, you hand him the rupees for the innkeeper, telling him to meet you up at the cooking pot. Revali sighed, watching you dart up the steps to the grocers shop, begrudgingly heading into the Roost bracing for the likely snide argument with the violet girl manning the desk. He had never gotten on well with her.

You jogged up the stairs at a brisk pace, skirting around a dark feathered fledgling as he barrelled down the steps without looking ahead. The child didn’t slow down, but instead yelled an apology as he raced away, making you chuckle, the boy had likely spotted Revali as the pair of you had walked in together. Despite the harsh words of the elders, the youngest Rito’s wanted to be like him, the strongest warrior.

As you stepped into the Slippery Falcon, straightening your shirt as you walk, you spot little Hyth doing his daily dance. The little brown chick was the oldest orphan in the village, having been orphaned before the Influenza had struck the village. The sweet boy had taken to helping the two younger ones who had lost their parents to the virus. Silently, you had prayed that an adult would take pity, step up and adopt them because of the circumstances. Unfortunately, they were all treated just like the village always treats orphans. As pests.

“Hyth” You call out to the boy, seeing the shopkeepers patience running thin, he likely knew as well as you did that he was much more likely to get scolded soon then any food. Hyth’s face lit up seeing you, breaking your heart, he only got so excited to see you because you meant real food and not scraps. Excitement so visibly expressed over such a basic need being filled always felt like a punch to the gut. It was no way for a child to live, but you couldn’t do more for him than you already did.

“Healer Nami!” Hyth chirped, hopping excitedly over to you, hugging your leg.

“Go get Lili and Gen” You say, smiling softly down at him “I’ll be at the cooking pot after buying some ingredients”

He runs off at top speed, chirping louder as he goes, you shake your head in amusement at his antics. As you start to gather up ingredients you need Revali walks in, just in time to see you scoop up a massive amount of Tabantha Wheat. Amused, he watches you drop it on the counter and repeat the process with an armful of Goat Butter.

“Hungry?” He hums, visibly entertained as you shove him out the way to grab some Salmon.

The owner of the store, hearing him, scoffs. “She has let the village cuckoos take advantage of her nearly every time she comes up here, yet again she’s feeding them”

Revali, hearing the shopkeepers tone and words, goes rigid. His expression murderous. As he drew himself up stepping towards the female, prepared to spit some scathing response at her, you dart around him, teeth bared in a forced grin.

Dropping the Salmon on her counter, you shrug at her “What can I say?” You glance over at Revali as you speak before he does, giving him a small smile before levelling your stare back at the shopkeeper “I guess orphans really do stick together” You drop rupees on the counter for the produce, having calculated the price as you collected your items. You scoop up your wheat, and shove it into Revali's wings “Besides, the only one I feel who takes advantage of me is you” You look the Rito in the eye as you pick up your Salmon, dumping a couple of them onto the wheat Revali held “You charge 20 rupees per bushel of wheat when every other village only charges 12”

She stares at you, enraged, but you ignore anything she tried to respond to with. Simply picking up and walking out of her store with the rest of your purchases. Revali dutifully followed behind you, smirking as he did so, saying his goodbyes to the shop owner as he left.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you that mad before” He chuckles walking at your heel as you speedily walk to the community cooking pit.

“I hate bullies” You sigh “Besides its not like Hyth can change his situation”

Hyth, Lili and Gen were sat waiting on you by the far railing, shrieking animatedly with delight when they spotted you walking in. They began to run up to you but froze when they saw Revali behind you. Hyth recovered the quickest, hopping over to help carry the food, clearly having gotten meals off the Champion before. Lili and Gen stayed more subdued, unsure if they would still be eating, used to the older Rito kicking them out now. Their feathers flattened against their bodies sadly, truly expecting to be told to leave despite Revali obviously helping you carry a lot of food.

You dropped your load on a small area designed for food preparation by the pot, moving so Revali could also unload what you'd forced him to carry.

Brushing his shoulder you hum at him “Do you know how to cook Salmon Meunière?”

Hyth began to dance a little in excitement, riling up Lili and Gen back into an excitable frenzy.

Revali smirked “As long as I get some I do”

You laugh as he sits by you to help prep the fish while you light the fire “I certainly bought enough”

<< Navi >>

#revali #revali x reader #revalixoc #botw revali

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beannary · 2 years

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Something So Precious About This

A Hisirdoux and Zoe fic

ao3 link

In the early 19th century, Hisirdoux gets invited to a private ball and makes a lifelong friend.

Hisirdoux takes in his appearance in the mirror, carefully adjusting his cravat just so, adding the final touches to his outfit. He wouldn’t necessarily consider himself to be vain, but well, he does take pride in his appearance. It was one of the first things Merlin taught him, that to control your appearance is to control what assumptions people make about you. Normally Hisirdoux goes for a more subdued look to blend into the background and remain unnoticed but he wants to look presentable for this particular event.

He preens in the mirror, before twirling around and striking a pose.

“How do I look, Archie?” He does feel quite proud of himself. It’s been ages since he’s gotten the chance to attend an upper class event. Sure he loathes the stuffy prim and properness that comes with balls and feasts, but Hisirdoux does miss the feeling of his fancy robes he would don when attending royal events in Camelot.

Archie frowns. “What I think is that this is a bad idea.”

“Oh c’mon Arch!” Hisirdoux whines, slumping to where Archie is lying on his bed. He sits down, lifting his hand to angrily pet Archie. You know, to properly let him know how upset Hisirdoux is. From the sound of Archie’s purring this tactic is working perfectly.

“Douxie you are attending a private ball at the very beginning of the courting season,” Archie starts. Hisirdoux groans at the oncoming lecture. “There is absolutely no way this isn’t going to end in disaster.” Archie looks up at him. “You have to admit that going to an event where all in attendance will be looking for a more permanent romantic relationship is a rather daft idea.”

Hisirdoux sighs. “I know, I know, but…” Hisirdoux pauses. He doesn’t want to offend Archie in any way but, well…He is going a bit stir crazy only having his familiar for company. There sure is something to be said about humans being social creatures and craving human companionship. Hisirdoux is definitely feeling that lack of close human contact getting to him. Fancy that, it took him nearly 600 years to get sick of his constant state of near solitude.

Maybe he shouldn’t go. Archie is right after all. This happens time and time again where he makes friends only to have to leave them suddenly after only a few years. His lack of aging is certainly both a blessing and a curse. And as much as he wants to go out and socialize, he would hate upsetting Archie more.

“I do know though,” Archie begins, “that at the end of the day I very well can’t control you.” Hisirdoux perks up, looking surprised at Archie. “Just please, keep your heart in check? We’ve been in London for far too long already, we don’t have much longer before we have to leave. And I truly hate how heartbroken and desolate you get every time you have to leave your human companions.”

Hisirdoux stands up, quickly dusting himself off of any stray cat hair. “I can’t promise anything. But I’ll try my best.”

Archie hums in thought. “Could you promise to bring me back some fancy meat?”

“That,” Hisirdoux laughs, “I can manage to do.” He glances up at the cuckoo clock that hangs above his bed, hurrying quickly towards the door as he sees the time, taking a spare moment to cast a quick concealment charm on his bracer. “I’m off then!” Hisirdoux hangs slightly out of the open door. “Don’t have too much fun without me Arch!”

“I’m sure I’ll get up to all sorts of shenanigans with you gone,” Archie says as he stands up and stretches languidly. “Oh and Hisirdoux? You do look quite handsome tonight. I hope you have fun.”

Hisirdoux arrives at the venue at exactly 9 pm, precisely the time expressed on the invitation. He stands in awe of the grandeur of the ball hall before hurrying inside, stopping only to check his hat and coat in at the front before venturing into the ballroom proper. The decor on the inside is no less ostentatious, teetering just on the edge of gaudy, but without a doubt achieving its goal of displaying the immense fortune and high status of the Murray family who are hosting the ball.

Hisirdoux was quite lucky to receive an invitation to this event in the first place. Even though he grew up in the castle in Camelot, Hisirdoux is a peasant boy through and through, and that has followed him throughout his life. No matter how hard he tries he just cannot seem to acquire enough money or status to maintain an upper class, or even a middle class lifestyle.

Not that he minds or really cares. The coins of his youth would hardly benefit him today. Money can only take him so far, whereas the skills he has honed over his life have proven to be much more valuable. It is those exact skills that landed him an invitation to this ball in the first place. The eldest Murray daughter had found herself in a spot of trouble with a foreign vampire, and long story short Hisirdoux stepped in to resolve matters and found himself with a golden ticket to the social event of the year.

He spends a few moments flitting about the ballroom, trying to socialize before the dancing begins. It’s difficult though as few of the ladies spare him the time of day. They are looking for suitors after all, and he very well can’t provide for them on his meager income. Perhaps if he had mastered the intricacies of regency era aristocratic etiquette he would have more luck finding someone to converse with. But his lower class accent and slightly out of date suit make him stick out like a sore thumb, making it dreadfully obvious to all in attendance that he is truly a fish out of water.

He would really like to dance though, that is the whole point of attending a ball after all. But with his luck it seems as if he might not get the chance. Proper ball etiquette states that ladies have to start the conversation, and considering how all of them are avoiding him like the plague, Hisirdoux doubts he’ll get the opportunity to ask a lady to dance. So instead, he quietly drifts off to a corner close to the band so he can play off his solitude as a musical interest rather than his obvious lower class status.

Not that he is faking his interest in music. Though the lute will always be his first love, it would be foolish of him not to make use of his immortality by learning every instrument under the sun. Perhaps he should start branching out from string instruments. The bassoon sounds quite magical, perhaps he should ask its player for some tips once the musicians have a break.

Hisirdoux is deep in thought, his gaze unconsciously roving over the crowd when he meets a pair of eyes across the ballroom. Hisirdoux feels himself freeze. A lady with long, elegant, brown hair and a shockingly flamboyant pink dress is staring at him, giving him a curious look. She blinks as soon as she realizes that he is staring back, giving him a little half wave. With elegance and grace, the lady lifts her fan in one hand, carefully touching a finger from the other hand to the top of the fan.

Hisirdoux is certainly not an expert in the language of fans, but even he can’t deny such a clear message of I wish to speak with you. He feels his face flush at her forwardness, and he sees her laugh in barely concealed amusement. She switches her fan so it's held in her left hand, opening it swiftly to half cover her face, fanning it gently, clearly waiting for him to venture closer to her.

Well he’s certainly not going to get a more forward invitation into conversation than that. And beggars certainly can’t be choosers. Not that he is dreading talking to this lady, quite the opposite in fact. Still he can’t help the nerves that flood him at the prospect of being in pleasant company. Archie always goes on and on about how Hisirdoux is completely unable to maintain himself when conversing with people he finds attractive, and this lady is exceedingly easy on the eyes. But it's not as if Archie is here now to bemoan Hisirdoux’s lack of brain cells once in the presence of attractive people, so he takes a moment to calm his nerves before swiftly making his way across the ballroom.

The lady bows as soon as Hisirdoux is in appropriate conversing distance, to which he bows in return.

“For a gentleman currently in attendance of one of the most coveted balls in London, you have been rather unsocial.”

Hisirdoux chuckles, averting his eyes and taking the opportunity to pick up a glass of wine from a tray carried by a passing by waiter. “I am regretfully not as accustomed to these events as the average London socialite.”

“That much is obvious,” she says with a smile. “How then did you manage to acquire an invitation? Has your family newly come into wealth?”

“Oh no nothing of the sort,” he explains. “I am here on the personal invitation of Miss Murray.”

The lady’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh my, I was quite unaware that I was in the presence of a guest of the hostess herself. May I ask how you became acquainted with the Murray family?”

“Ah,” Hisirdoux starts. He hadn’t quite thought of a suitable explanation for that question. He swirls his wine and takes a sip. “I’d rather not get into the details in respect to Miss Murray but I helped the family out of a rather peculiar situation.”

“Hmm, consider me intrigued. You’re quite unlike the other guests in attendance Mister…”

“Casperan,” Hisirdoux fills in. “And may I be privy to the lady’s name as well?”

“Zinoviya Ashildr.”

“That’s a rather interesting surname,” Hisirdoux hums. “I can’t say I’ve heard word of the Ashildr family in London. Did you move to the area recently?”

Miss Ashildr blushes. “Ah yes I suppose you could put it in that manner,” she stammers. “My family travels between our various estates. It has been some time since we have resided permanently in England.”

“Merchants then?”

“Of sorts,” she replies with a wry smile as if she’s telling some sort of joke.

“Now you could consider me intrigued.”

“Well if I have piqued your interest I would be more than happy to continue our discussion over a dance?”

“If it is what the lady desires then I shall be honored to deliver,” he says, extending a hand to her and bowing ever so slightly. She places a gloved hand in his before whisking him off to join the other couples gathering in preparation for the first dance of the evening.

It’s surprisingly enjoyable dancing with Miss Ashildr. She’s witty and charming and he spends the entirety of their two dances together smiling and laughing, all thoughts flying from his head, his mind thoroughly occupied with the woman in front of him.

After nearly an hour of dancing, they step off the main dance floor together, to take a brief moment of repose before the next dance begins. Hisirdoux wishes he could spend the rest of the evening with Miss Ashildr, but alas a lady is only meant to dance with the same man twice before it is expected for her to move on. If they were to spend the entirety of the evening together it would give off the impression that they were betrothed, and that is the last thing Hisirdoux wants.

“You are quite the interesting character Mister Casperan,” she says as the two settle at a table and nurse their respective drinks.

“And you as well.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she laughs. Miss Ashildr gingerly picks up her glass and swirls her wine before taking a sip. “May I ask you a question?”

Hisirdoux nods as he picks up his respective glass, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“Hmm, or rather not a question but an observation perhaps?” She says as she turns to fully face Hisirdoux. “You are quite good at blending in, you know, I hardly would have recognized you as anything other than normal if it weren’t for one tiny detail.” Hisirdoux freezes at her words, his glass halfway to his lips. She sets down her glass before slowly reaching over to his arm on which rests his concealed magical bracer. Or what is meant to be his concealed bracer, as instead of being invisible to the eye it is instead visible for all to see. She gently taps the bracer with a single finger. Upon contact a soft pink light envelops the bracer before it disappears before their very eyes as a concealment charm is once again placed upon it.

“Well then,” Hisirdoux says, tension flooding out of him. “That could have gone much worse, figures I’d find the one other magical person at this event.”

“Really you should be much more careful. You’re quite lucky it was me who noticed and not one of the more, let’s say superstitious types.”

“One would think society had moved past the craze of the witch trials but alas humanity continues to disappoint me,” Hisirdoux quips before taking a sip of his wine.

The music swells in preparation for the next dance, prompting various couples around them all moving towards the dance floor. Hisirdoux regretfully would rather spend the rest of the evening with Miss Ashildr, but alas, social etiquette requires him to bounce between various ladies. He’s about to bid Miss Ashildr farewell when she stops him.

“Forgive me if my proposition is too forward, but would you accompany me to a more private location? I would greatly enjoy continuing our discussion without the prying eyes of socialites too nosey for their own good.”

Hisirdoux blinks in surprise. “Surely us departing together will bring us far more attention than us staying.”

“Perhaps,” Miss Ashildr shrugs. “But does it truly matter when they only exist for only a mere portion of our lifetime?”

Hisirdoux frowns. “I suppose that is true, though I hate to think of human life as being that disposable. But perhaps in the case of caring for their opinions you make a valid point.”

“Well then Mister Casperan, care to escort a lady on an evening promenade?”

Hisirdoux bows, extending his hand and giving Miss Ashildr a cocky smile. “If it is what the lady wishes then who am I to object?”

#tales of arcadia #toa wizards #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux #toa douxie #my fic #you want to reblog my fic #you want to reblog my fic so bad #also you want to read it #please read it #if you want to though!#dont feel pressured

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