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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

------------------------

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

------------------------

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

------------------------

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?�� Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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sunatooru · 3 years

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Hewwo :3 I won't lie i saw this idea in an another blog but i loved it too much. Headcanons for Suna, Tanaka, Aone and Kita's reaction if their s/o acts weird and suspicious like she is hiding something and cancel their dates for a week. Then she text them "we need to talk" and they think she'll break up with them, she starts to talk like a break-up speech and they got scared, say something like "we can talk, please don't break-up with me" she says "what? I was just trying to propose marriage!"

Hii I love this idea! If you could tell me where you first read this I would love to read it and see the boys worrieddd and if you see this interact! (I love angsty stuff) x

Hope you enjoyyy and also I have no reason why some are long and some aren’t xx

Suna

* You hadn't replied to him in 5 hours

* He knew you could be busy, I mean you both usually are, but it's almost tradition that you send an "I love you sleepy" at this time

* He has noticed that your conversations have gotten shorter

* He thinks you're probably stressing out and doesn't want to press you

* He tries to set up a date, booking a private dinner room in hopes of relaxing you

* You had an excuse on why you couldn't

* He'll send you morning texts and general messages but you'll rarely reply

* He's not loving the distance

* He decided to go to Osamu's shop and bring you some onigiri

* What he didn't expect was to see you hugging Osamu as he closes the shop

* He's having so many thoughts right now as he walks back to his house that he doesn't realise the buzz of his phone

* It's only a shower later he sees you've messaged him

* "Hey, we need to talk"

* No emoji, no nickname, no suggestions that this is not a break up text

* He could barely sleep, had to force himself to open the door when the knocking woke him

* He felt his heart freeze at the sight of you, your hand fidgeting with your sleeves as you nibble your lips

* He didn't want you to leave him, not when he's loved you so hard, not when he knows he'll never love anyone like he has you

* And then you start to speak, he has to control the pain beginning to ache in his heart

* "So I know we've been together for a long time now and it has been amazing. You're amazing and I hope what I say next doesn't change your view of me because I-"

* "Please don't leave me!" His voice cracked at the end and your eyes widen

* "What?" And you see him looking at you sadly

* "I- please don't break up with me...I can't...even if you like Osamu..I can't love anyone else." Hug him please

* "Rin what? I'm not breaking up with you! I'm trying to propose!" You comfort him and he's shocked

* "What..? But what about last night at Miya's?" "I obviously wanted your best friends help, I'm been trying to propose for days but end up ignoring you. I'm sorry baby."

* God he's softly chuckling now

* "Yes" He grins, kissing the corner of your lips

* "I haven't asked yet"

* "Doesn't matter. It's always been yes."

Tanaka

* You're already his life partner in his eyes, adores you and always messages you

* Gets so excited to communicate to you in any way

* So he's not sure what's he's done to receive the cold shoulder from you

* Everything was smooth sailing until a week ago

* You suddenly stopped receiving his calls, choosing to text and even then they were short

* You've cancelled on him twice already

* Both reasons being you was busy

* Too busy for him?

* He tries not to overthink anything of it

* Doesn't allow doubt to creep in knowing that you two were strong, right?

* But then he notices how your calls with him got shorter, your texts becoming less frequent

* He would zone out thinking about what's going on with you two

* He would reread over you texts

* Gets a little depressed when he realises something is wrong

* He can feel a heat creep into chest, tightening when he sees your latest text

* "We should talk"

* His heart just cracked, he's pacing in his room

* He's not ready, you're his one, he's crying at the thought of you not wanting him anymore

* A day later he sees you in his living room

* His anxiety shoots up the moment you open your mouth, he closes his eyes

* "Don't break up with me!"

* "Huh?" He opens his eyes, you're on one knee as you have a ring box open

* "I've never wanted to. I'm sorry for being distant... I was nervous. Would you marry me?"

* He's crying, relief spreading around him, he digs into his pocket and kneels in front of you

* "I've been saving this for months. I'll take you if you take me."

* I headcanon Tanaka carrying a ring always once he knows you're the one

Aone

* He picked you were acting strange recently

* You would greet him fast and leave faster

* He doesn't really understand what's happening

* As a way to have you around him more he offers you dates

* "There is a new restaurant, so you want to go?" "Sorryyy I'm really busy today but maybe next time!"

* "It's hot today, I can buy you ice cream?" "That would be nice! but I just need to finish stuff"

* He's starting to feel neglected. A whole week has gone by and he hasn't seen you

* He's feeling pain

* He frowns when he sees his lock screen of you

* Starts to write a message but then deletes it

* He doesn't even know who to talk to about it, his sister? His friends? His pet?

* If it he could, he can't voice his concerns, as if he doesn't know if his voice can handle the words or his feelings

* Doesn't know how he ended up thinking about you not wanting to be with him anymore

* "We need to talk" his chest tightens, for some reason those words have him sad

* A day passes and all he can think about is what you want to say, doesn't realise his vision starting to blur until he he feels a tear run down his cheek

* Stares at the ceiling and frowns, he would never hurt you, so why are you?

* The next day you arrive at his home

* He welcomes you silently and senses that your feeling jittery

* "We can talk but please don't break up with me.." he needed to speak first

* "Aone?! Baby no what? I don't.. don't want to break up...I was just trying to surprise you." You mumble

* "I love you. Will you marry me?"

* Enjoy his crushing hug, never worry him again please

Kita

* He knew something was up the minute you didn't send him a good morning text

* He knew something was wrong when you didn't replace the text with kissing and heart emojis

* He knew something was wrong when he felt his head get heavy when you didn't send him a single text the whole day

* When you did finally message him he was relieved but still concerned

* You ended up meeting the next day but he could tell you were acting strange

* You seemed to avoid his gaze, barely relax around him, wouldn't even hold his hand for longer than 5 seconds

* He was not happy, why won't you let him hold you?

* Starts to get annoyed when you pay more attention to your phone then him

* Tries to glance at it but you're fast to not let him see and point to something else

* This goes on for days

* Except he hadn't seen you in those days

* You've either seen his message to meet late or have a reason why you can't

* Reasons he does not believe

* Tries to call you but you decline

* What? He's apprehensive now

* You've never declined before, what's going on

* He start to overthink, do you not like him anymore? Is there someone else?

* Tries to run his errands but can't do a complete job without his thoughts going back to you

* Thinks about how you've been tense around him, less touchy, secretive and he wants to know why

* He want to know why you have been distancing yourself from him

* Why when he thinks about you this last week he feels like crying

* He's suspicious and doesn't want to be

* He thinks about the things he lacked

* The things he couldn't give you that you wanted

* He's fragile but he doesn't want to give you up

* "Can we talk later?" He should feel happy you messaged him but why is he feeling uncertain? Why does he want later to never come?

* And now you're in front of him

* "Shinsuke, I know I haven't been talking to you recently but I've just had things on my mind. I really wanted to talk to you earlier but I just got nervous. You know I love you and we've been together for a while now but-"

* "Please..don't break up with me.." he lets out a sob and your eyes widen

* "Kita no no I'm just trying to propose! Please..don't cry please" you rush to comfort him

* "Propose?" "Uh yeah I was waiting until the ring was done by the jewellers but then got scared you might say no.."

* "Why would I say no?" You raise your brows at him

* "Silly, when have I ever said no to you" he chuckles and then kisses you

1K notes · View notes

enhalovebot · 3 years

Text

april fool pranks with enhypen .•ᰔᩚ

➸ enhypen x reader (gender neutral)

➸ fluff!!

➸ ˚ ༘⊹ ° . [🧸] ⋆｡˚ and ˗ˏ ➶ [☁️]. ✧ ˚

⤷ these boys love to mess with you on the regular. but what happens if it’s april fools day?

heeseung

it was early in the morning when you woke up.

the room was ice cold, and you noticed that the space next to you was empty. so you assumed your lovely boyfriend was up and preparing breakfast.

“hee? can you please prepare me a toasty shower?”

“sure thing, bubs!” he shouted from outside the door.

while heeseung is preparing your bath, you proceeded to prepare your work for the day. spring break completely slipped from your mind as you turned on your laptop.

unbeknownst to you tho, heeseung had a different plan. he already knew you had no classes, which he took advantage of to execute his plan.

one that is perfect for april fool's day.

as we all know, our boy is very fond of dad jokes. so he decided to pull a prank on you, instead of just reminding you that you have no classes.

oh, he will prepare you a toasty shower alright.

it was only a few minutes later when heeseung tells you your shower is ready.

“y/n, it’s ready!”

you rushed to the bathroom with your towel in hand to see literal toasts littered all over the bathroom.

this sent you into panic mode because there is no way you will make it to your class on time.

“i want to be mad at you, but i don’t have the time right now. so please just help me clean this up.”

heeseung leaned on the doorway with a stupid smile on his face as he watches you scramble about.

“HEE?! DIDN’T YOU HEAR ME?!” you yelled when you noticed him just standing there.

he laughs harder, crouching down on his knees. “y/n, you don’t have any classes today. it’s your spring break remember?”

this made you freeze in place. with a look of disbelief, you dropped your towel in shock.

and you guessed that the look you had on your face was absolutely priceless when heeseung laughs even harder.

let’s just say his plan was a success.

jay

definitely the type to cook for you, especially when you’re stressed or whenever you’re feeling hungry for something.

you were sitting at the back of the bus when he called asking you what you want for dinner.

“what do you want for dinner?” he asked.

“fish sounds good right now.” you expected him to hang up and leave to the kitchen to work his magic, but jay didn’t say anything.

“just fish?” he deadpanned.

you stared at your phone in confusion, eyebrows raised. “yes??”

jay huffs and crosses his arms (but you don’t know that), clearly offended. “i expected you to ask for something fancy. clearly my cooking skills just limited to fish.”

“baby, wha-”

“fish it is then. hurry back home, i’ll have a surprise waiting for you.” then he hang up.

once you got home, you immediately rushed to the kitchen to see how dinner was going.

but jay quickly blocked you from entering the kitchen.

“nope, dinner is not done yet. why don’t you relax first. i have everything under control.”

“uhmm okayy??”

you let him push you into your shared room so that you could relax.

it wasn’t long before jay excitedly told you dinner was ready.

“finally, i’m so hungry.”

“close your eyes, this is the surprise.” jay pulls you into the dining room and guides you to the table.

when he finally uncoveresd your eyes, you were faced with a gummy fish with ketchup on the side.

with a huff, you turn to jay with a smile, picking up the spoon while at it.

jay gulped at this.

“jay?”

“hmm?”

“run.”

with that, jay runs away from you and prepares for the worst.

jake

“babe, hear me out. what about we get another dog?” jake pouts.

you sigh, “i’m sorry jakey, but we don’t have the time.”

ever since you met layla, jake kept asking you for another dog. saying that layla needs a friend.

but you always rejected this because both of you were very busy individuals. so getting another dog would be a hassle.

besides, layla is enough 🥺

jake decides it’s hopeless arguing about this with you.

so he decided to mess with you.

he finds a picture of a coyote on the internet, and inserts it in photoshop to make it more believable.

he sends it to you while you were out with your friends, so you clearly did not see this one coming.

when you opened his message, you eyes nearly popped out of its sockets.

‘y/n look! i saw this dog on the street so i bought it home.’ then he sends a picture of the coyote in your living room.

‘i also bought its friend.’ another picture of a coyote outside your house.

you nearly have a panic attack when you got home.

“WHERE IS IT?!” you yelled, searching through the house, looking for the coyote.

jake chuckles and holds up his phone.

“happy april fools, love.”

sunghoon

for the past month you’ve been saying you were on a diet.

and guess what.

sunghoon is done with it.

because you weren’t really dieting at this point.

“hoon, can you buy doughnuts for me. i’m craving for some sweets.”

he turns to you, “but aren’t you on a diet?”

this caught you off guard.

you say nothing.

sunghoon also says nothing.

he was just mainly waiting for you to admit that you are not on a diet anymore.

“it’s my cheat day today.” of course, that was the only excuse you could come up with.

sunghoon groans at your cuteness.

“fineeee.” he drags out the word. sunghoon slides out of his seat, grabbing his wallet to buy your doughnuts.

he comes back into the living room with a box of doughnuts.

but what made you confused was that he was holding a fork.

“you’re eating with a fork?”

“no, you are.”

you ignore his comment, hands gripping on the box.

sunghoon smiles at your eagerness.

but your smile turns into a frown when you finally got to see what’s inside the box.

you asked for doughnuts.

he got you a salad instead.

“now, here is your fork.” sunghoon hands you the fork.

“bu-”

“no buts. now, eat your greens.” he pecks your cheek.

sunoo

this boy LOVES doing you hair.

he comes up with so many hairstyles that you can’t even count them.

so on a particular day, he comes up to you asking if he could do your hair.

since he does this almost everyday, you let him do his thing.

“i have this crazy idea for your hair today.” he practically drags you to your seat on the sofa.

sunoo goes quiet when his hands carded through your hair. his touch was feather-like, which makes you a bit sleepy.

and eventually, you fall asleep.

he leans into your ear, “i love you, and i‘m so sorry for what i’m about to do.”

sunoo notices this, making him slightly guilty about what he’s going to do next.

then his evil plan came into play.

when he’s finally done with your hair, sunoo gently shakes you awake.

“hmm? what? you’re done already?”

sunoo almost cracks from laughter when you got up from your position on the sofa.

“how do i look?” you pointed at you hair, unaware of the disaster on top of your head.

“cute, you look cute.” sunoo chuckles at the end of his sentence.

you grew suspicious at this, so you dash to the closest mirror you could find.

your jaw dropped open in shock at the sight of your hair.

this

boy

made

you

into

oompa loompa

“MY HAIR!!”

“YOU’RE AN ADORABLE OOMPA LOOMPA THO!”

jungwon

“so, we‘ve been together for a while now, right?”

jungwon turns his head down to look at you.

“yeah, been the happiest i’ve ever been.” you say without thinking.

jungwon stops from combing his hand in your hair. he drops his hand on your head. “i really care for you, y/n.”

okay, you both said ‘i love you’ without actually saying ‘i love you.’

you both fall asleep tangled under the sheets.

let’s just say, jungwon has a gift for you the next day.

you woke up to birds chirping and the smell of breakfast. you mindlessly felt around the space next to you, searching for jungwon’s warmth.

but his side was empty.

so you got up with no choice, but to look for him.

and there he was. he was standing in front of the counter with a black box in his hands.

jungwon smiles at you, and slides the box to you.

“what’s in the box, won?” you asked him.

“why don’t you find out.” he says, exiting the kitchen.

once he was out of the kitchen, jungwon hid behind the wall, hidden in plain sight.

he watches you open the box in confusion. he observes the way your lips lift into a smile.

you open the box to a ring.

you try picking up the ring from the box, but it was too heavy.

so you pulled harder to find that it wasn’t a ring at all.

it was a mug.

“so, did you like it?” jungwon stands next to you with a teasing grin on his face.

“i expected a ring, but this is so much better. now i can drink my hot chocolate from this.” you raise the mug.

jungwon laughs at your response, but it was only for a second. “i’ll get you a ring some day. but for now, enjoy your hot chocolate.”

ni-ki

you recently purchased a mirror online, but you didn’t know where you could hang it.

and you kinda needed some help with the hanging the mirror part.

so you ask your boyfriend ni-ki to help you set the mirror in place.

and being the obedient boyfriend that he is, ni-ki agreed to help you.

ni-ki already knows where he’ll place the mirror.

he waited for you to leave first before he did anything.

so when the day finally came, and you said that you’ll be running an errand, he knew he had to take this chance.

oh and would you look at that.

it's april fools day.

how perfect.

ni-ki stands up when he hears the door close shut.

he runs to the mirror and walks with it around the house.

he stops at a blank wall, it was perfect.

so, he hangs it up.

but not exactly what you’re expecting.

the boy hangs it to a height where you won’t be able to use the mirror.

he made sure the mirror was higher than the tip of your head.

ni-ki nearly topples in laughter as he imagines the look on your face when you come back home.

and he was right.

your reaction was the best.

“NI-KI, I CAN’T SEE A THING.”

“what, i’m sorry. talk to me when you get taller, that’s said with love.”

347 notes · View notes

steepgan · 3 years

Text

someone dear (iii) - d. ragnvindr x f!reader

PART I - PART II - PART III

FINAL PART!!!! also i hate this part the most because i definitely rushed it and i could feel myself losing steam for writing so i wanted to finish it asap LMFAO ALSO DILUC IS HELLA OOC IM SO SORRY I STARTED PLAYING GENSHIN LIKE SIX DAYS AGO IM RELLY REALLY SORRY LAFAHFOA#@*$@)*$

Today was payday.

“You look…” Charles made a face. “Vibrant.”

“I get paid!” you squealed.

“Oh, boy,” Charles said. “You know there’s more to life than money, [Name]. There’s knowledge. You could always learn more. There’s love. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a significant other, honestly. There’s—”

You waved a dismissive hand. “I know all that already! I’m satisfied, Charles. It’s just not so bad to be financially secure while I’m at it. Money is the best thing ever!”

“Money is the root of all evil.”

“The root of all evil is buried deep within that chest of yours,” you accused. You picked up a clean rag and soaked it in a water basin. “You never let me have any fun on payday. Anyway, today there’s a new book being released, and I’ve been waiting for the sequel since forever.”

Charles nodded. “I think I know which book you’re talking about. Give it time and your librarian friend will have it in the library in no time.”

“That very librarian friend is coming today to hand-deliver the book to me.”

“Of course. Never once would you abandon your shift for books. Though, I think I’ve once seen you leave midway through the day because you saw a cat on the balcony while standing outside.”

“It was a cute cat,” you defended.

“You shouldn’t make friends with cats. They’re very picky and particular with whom they associate with.”

“Ah,” you said absentmindedly, “like Master Diluc.”

“[Name], that’s your boss.”

You deserved the reprimand. “Sorry. It’s not anything bad. I actually took your advice the other day and chatted with him a bit. He’s not as… cold as I thought, but he’s certainly as chilly as Snezhnaya at times.”

Diluc had been somewhat stubborn when you insisted on helping him. You didn’t understand. It was only natural to be there for other people; however, Diluc believed differently. He was right in some ways. Too much dependency would lead one to no good, but that was not your concern.

“Before comparing your employer to one of the coldest nations in Teyvat,” Charles said, “I nominate you to call for Patton a bit today. He’s coming in late ‘cause he’s wrapped up with something today.”

“Do you think me standing out there would do the tavern some good?”

“Try wearing a costume. Draws attention.”

“Right on. Let me see if there’s any maid uniforms in the back.”

As much as you worshipped your own looks on a daily basis, standing outside where Patton typically was took a toll on your body. But your mental health persevered. After all, you were getting paid today. Nothing could deter your smile.

You stood outside, calling out passing people with hopes of luring them in with Dandelion Wine. Diona, who worked at Cat’s Tail, stopped by to convince you to join her tavern. She was ultimately dedicated to sabotaging the traditional and rich wine industry of Mondstadt yet was doing rather poorly at it. You declined politely, as your job was the wine industry of Mondstadt.

Nimrod, one of the usuals, entered the tavern. He dodged his wife who condemned his drinking habits. He typically hung around Angel’s Share for the addicting wine. It was not strange to see him coming in and out of alleyways.

Not even the approaching Master Diluc could taint your spirits.

The approaching Master Diluc.

You’d recognize his hair and determined face anywhere. You were accustomed to seeing it, as you saw him often. You smiled and greeted him accordingly just before he entered the tavern. “Hello, Master Diluc. Have a good day today.”

“I will,” he said. “I assume today’s a good day for you, too.”

“Of course.”

Donna was giving him puppy-dog eyes around the corner, you saw, but she gave him puppy-dog eyes every day, so what was new? Diluc, the brooding bachelor bastard of Mondstadt, was the center of many ladies’ attention.

He was the center of yours because your paycheck was in his hands.

Days and weeks went by.

Because you knew Diluc’s secret and nighttime hobby, it wasn’t strange for you and he to grow closer. When he’d come back to the tavern, you arranged a nice meal for him to eat. Heroes needed plenty of food, you figured.

Sometimes, you’d eat with him in agonizing silence.

He made for mediocre company, but when it was late at night and you had nothing to do, he was a fine person to talk to. He kept his distance, preferring to sit a seat away from you at the bar, idly standing when you were sitting at a table. But you never felt alone on those nights.

Diluc came back injured sometimes, and as each night passed, he let you tend to his wounds pathetically before he went to see a doctor. You didn’t know if he was humoring your concern or if he seriously needed your help.

Even without you, he was doing just fine, but little by little, akin to a trickling stream, he began to rely on you. Another person’s trust was a heavy thing to carry, and Diluc’s trust was the weight of the entire world upon your shoulders. You feared that if you ever messed up, Diluc’s trust would be gone in a snap.

Diluc and you shared meals, which was nothing out of the ordinary now, but there was small conversation. Diluc, to your knowledge, never really participated in idle chatter, but he talked with you about the sights he’d seen around Liyue, the hub of business in Teyvat, and you retold jokes your friends had said and rumors about a certain person that were made just to pass time.

You could pull vicarious wonder when Diluc told you of the other nations. You’d venture there yourself, but your skills in the adventuring department were lacking.

You admitted that you were wrong about Diluc; where you had thought him cold and stoic, he was protective and brave. He treasured his work above nearly everything—to the point he overworked. In a way he was somewhat like you. A little different, though. A little stranger. A little better.

Diluc had grand aspirations and was bold personified. You, too, had something to live for, but it wasn’t as great as his. You liked the little things; you liked the dog who wagged his tail whenever you passed in hopes of you giving it a treat; you liked shopping with your friends; you liked reading new books and joking around with Lisa.

You and Master Diluc seem to complement each other, that’s all, Charles had said then.

“Charles, you’re insane,” you said, pushing Charles’ shoulder. “It’s never going to work. Patton would never agree to putting on the maid dress.”

“And if we bribe him?” Charles asked.

Diluc was standing on the other side of the bar, a brow quirked and a smile lapping at his lips. His arms were crossed, and as much as he tried to seem intimidating, he looked like a friend to you. Before, you would have seen him as judgmental and indifferent, but the Diluc before you was someone who you knew better.

“How much do you think we should give Patton? Maybe we need to sort into bigger pockets.” You peered at Diluc.

Charles said, “What—do you think Master Diluc is willing to put on such a uniform?”

You laughed, and Diluc was looking at you. He didn’t look upset at all. His face was calm, and his pretty cupid’s bow lips were drawn in an amused smile. Oh, he was gorgeous—and upon that thought intruding your headspace, you nearly stopped laughing.

Sometimes Diluc would bring you small trinkets from the winery. You once brought up you wanted an owl statue to put on your balcony to attract other owls (though you were sure that wasn’t how nature worked), and Diluc, sure enough, gave you an owl statue around the size of your torso.

“Master Diluc,” you said. “What is this?”

“An owl statue.”

“Gee, wow! I thought it was a penguin.” You tentatively patted the top of its head. “What’s it for?”

“You,” he said. “I had it laying around the winery.”

It provoked thought in you. What sort of person had an owl statue laying around? You felt the need to give Diluc something back, but what did you have to give him? So that very night, you took him outside of Mondstadt so you could capture a Mist Flower Corolla for your friend.

Typically, you wouldn’t take your employer out on an errand, but you were done with work, so it wasn’t Master Diluc. It was just Diluc. Diluc looked like he wanted to say no to you because he didn’t really devote his time into something so trivial, but you insisted.

“If you needed it that badly,” Diluc said, “you could have asked me. We have plenty near the winery, and I can take care of them easily.”

“It’s not that,” you said, watching an Ice Flower bloom and freeze the water around it. “It’s about the adventure. The message.”

“And what’s this message you speak of?”

“It’s the message of ‘hey, I nearly froze my ass off to get this flower for you, but I care about you enough to risk frostbite.’”

“How… kind of you, [Name].”

You and Diluc spent all night catching enough Mist Flower Corollas for your liking. You wanted a bouquet, and you had a bouquet at the end of the night, at the expense of Diluc’s time and your sleep. You carried the bundle in your hands happily.

Diluc’s fire skills came handy, and it wouldn’t be a lie if you said you brought him along just for it. You liked his personality and his friendship, of course, but his fire skills were a… plus!

On the nights where it was just you and he, Diluc sat nearer to you now. Diluc picked up Charles’ shifts more often and sat across from you whenever you were seated at tables. He sat next to you at the bar, entertaining you out of your boredom.

It wasn’t until one day, Donna of the flower shop was gushing about Diluc, and you felt uneasy. You’d known that Donna was incredibly fond of Diluc, but it never bothered you until now.

Of course, you brought it up to Charles, one of your closest confidants, only third to your bank account and Lisa.

“He likes you back, you know,” Charles said, playing with the tip jar. The coins clinked and clanked in there. “I can tell you that much, [Name].”

“Ewwwwww,” you moaned. “Talking to you about my problems is gross. Where’s Lisa? She’ll tell me the truth for sure. You only want me happy so I can clean the entire tavern for free again. You want me to cover your shift again?”

“Sure I do,” Charles said, “but what I’m saying is true, [Name]. He looks at you all funky.”

“Yeah, because I’m a funky gal.”

“Stop it.”

“Funky, funky, funky.”

“Please.” Charles sighed and set down the tip jar. “It’s like… you and he are weirdly connected. He looks at you a lot. He always looks at you whenever there’s a joke, just to see if you’re laughing, I guess. He must like your laugh. I think it sounds like a horse, personally.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You loved talking to Charles. You loved money. You loved your friends, and you loved your happiness. You loved—no, you liked Diluc. You didn’t know what to do when it came to him. Maybe if you kept away, your affections would find someone else to torment.

Like, for example, that newly hired boy next door that nearly killed his shop’s plants. He was a clumsy sort of cute.

But Diluc was not clumsy. He was meticulous and always got the job done. He took care of himself well, and on days he overworked, you made sure he took some time to rest.

You shook your head. You should stop thinking about Diluc for now and focus.

Yet it was always you and Diluc, and Diluc began to invade your thoughts. You brought up weaving flowers into his long hair, and Diluc always turned you down, saying that there wasn’t enough time for that.

You wished to brush Diluc’s bangs back and lightly kiss his forehead, if he was okay with that. Instead, you said to Diluc, you have a big forehead. No wonder you’re so smart.

Can we go back to the part where you said I had a big forehead? he’d retorted.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later did Diluc come to his shift with Mist Flower Corollas in hand and shyly handed them to you. There was a red hue on his cheeks, and his voice was small, afraid of rejection. His hair was tied back in a neater fashion, and his eyes were cast downward.

Become someone dear to me, he had said.

He wore fine clothes and a nervous expression. It was so out of character for Diluc. You felt as if you were watching a high school boy struggle to express his feelings. However, had Diluc walked into the tavern with a more open chest and chin up, he wouldn’t have been Diluc at all.

You liked Diluc as he was—somewhat closed off but kind enough. Mondstadt’s hero. A knight who donned glimmering red hair and a steel exterior. You wondered if Diluc had to prep himself before coming to you.

“Sorry,” he said although there was nothing to be sorry for, really. “I mean, if you don’t like the flowers—”

Hey, I nearly froze my ass off to get this flower for you, but I care about you enough to risk frostbite.

You took the flowers. “Oh, no, I love it. I really, really do, Master Diluc!”

“Just Diluc.”

“Diluc,” you corrected. “Do I get financial compensation if I become someone dear to you?”

“For starters, I could give you a Mist Flower Corolla every day,” Diluc said, “if that’s enough to satiate you.”

“And then?”

“In the evenings, I’d take you to Cider Lake to watch the starry night while you read those magazines of yours. We don’t need to talk. Just bask in each other’s company, really.”

You tried to fight the smile that was growing on your face. You set down the flowers on the bar counter before saying, “that’s it?”

“I’d let you weave flowers into my hair. I’d take you all over Teyvat, if that’s what you wished as well. I’d take care of you as much as you had taken care of me whenever I’m injured. I’d learn your jokes and get along well with your friends because they seem pleasant.”

You didn’t know Diluc was such a romantic. You dusted Diluc’s shoulder. “I would hold your hand.”

Diluc frowned. “This doesn’t feel very equal to me.”

“You want more?” you quipped. “I’d kiss your forehead. And then I’d read to you. That is, if you like fairy tales… Oh! And then I’d take you up to the mountains where we could see the constellations the best! I love constellations; they’re so pretty.”

“Truthfully,” Diluc admitted, “you don’t have to do anything. I think… I think I’d be satisfied if I just had your company.”

“Would you now? And what about Donna from the flower shop?”

“What about her?”

“Oh, nothing.” You pretended to think about Diluc’s proposal. “I have to say, I think I’m enchanted by your offer, Diluc. I’m going to have to say yes. I will become someone dear to you.”

PART I - PART II - PART III

#diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin impact diluc #x reader #genshin impact #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #me speedrunning the ending desperately:

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bluebellwriting · 3 years

Text

Love Me Tender Part 6

Hey folks! I know it’s been a minute, I’ve been super busy with work and school, but I’m by no means done with this piece and you know I had to post something for Valentine’s Day (to make up for the fact that single and lonely 😆😭)

Despite popular belief, Hell does in fact freeze over. It’s Hell, after all, and in the world of pain and torture, everything is fair game. And it’s February, historically one of the coldest months for you back when you were living and certainly the most miserable in Hell too. The roads are slick with sheets of ice, you can’t walk a block without a three-foot icicle nearly spearing itself through you, and everyone’s car is perpetually trapped in a snowbank thanks to Lucifer’s “generous snow plow program.” Each winter day reminds you of the worst snow cyclones from when you were growing up in Brooklyn, cold yes, but in a way it’s all very sentimental. They remind you of the winter nights cuddled up with your siblings, hot chocolate in hand, listening to the winds blustering against your windows. It’s all rather lovely, in a strange way.

Your boyfriend of four months does not seem to agree, if the way he’s gripping you and nuzzling into your neck is anything to go by. You’ve been trying to extricate yourself from your practically shared bed for the last ten minutes, but each attempt only causes Alastor to pull you closer. He’s basically on top of you now, those boney forearms are stronger than you’d think.

“Sweetheart,” you whisper. “It’s time to get up.”

Alastor groans but otherwise your voice falls on deaf ears.

“Come on, we have to make breakfast and then--”

“But darling, it’s freezing,” he sighs. “And why would I go anywhere when I have my own personal heater right here.”

It’s really hard to stay mad at him, especially when he places sweet little kisses from your cheek to your shoulder and back again.

“Well your personal heater has some errands to run and needs to get her day started.”

“Ugh,” Alastor whines and inch by inch, begins to roll off of you. “How can you even stand to be out in that unbearable cold? Don’t you want to stay right here with me, your loving and adoring boyfriend?”

“You know I would,” you boop his nose. “But then I wouldn’t be able to get your present.”

His ears perk up immediately.

“Present?” He coos. “A present for lil’ ol’ me? Dearest, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes, but I can’t pick it up until I get out of this bed.”

“Oh fine. I suppose I have some things to do for tonight as well,” he teases and kisses you on the nose before finally allowing you to shift out of bed.

“Although before you leave me,” he whines. “I have a little something to kick off the festivities.”

With a snap of his fingers, a red garment manifests in your arms.

“Oh, Alastor.” You run your hands over the thick velvet of the dress. “It’s lovely.”

“This is just the beginning, love. Now go try it on,” he shoos you off to the bathroom, then immediately curls back up into the comforter to protect himself from the draft leaking in from your window.

The dress is beautiful and warm. As soon as you change into it and assess yourself in the bathroom mirror it hits you that this has to be a customized dress. It fits you far too perfectly and the fabric is so soft, it’s like a blanket heating you up and snuggling you in. It’s either custom or enchanted with Alastor’s magic. Or maybe both, you wouldn’t put it past him to make this the perfect dress.

The last four months together have been a dream. A blissful and rapturous dream that you never want to wake up from. If you thought he was sweet before you began dating, then this is an entirely new level. You two are practically glued to the hip, and he finds a way to make every possible moment so enthralling and exciting that it doesn’t even matter.

Everything about him is just enthralling, and the best part is that he can’t seem to get enough of you either. It makes your face warm and your mouth split into a grin just thinking about it.

You poke your head out of the bathroom door and giggle at the sight of Alastor in his own personal blanket cocoon.

“Comfortable?” You ask.

“I’d be more comfortable if you were here with me.”

“While that sounds tempting, I wouldn’t want to ruin my fabulous new dress.”

He shoots up, blanket still around his shoulders, eyes wide and alert and trained on the way the bodice clings to your curves. It’s even more perfect than he could have expected.

“Do you like it?” He scoots to the edge of the bed and holds his arms out for you to step into.

“I love it.” You smile and step between his legs to fall into his embrace. “It’s perfect. Thank you, my love.”

“That’s just the beginning, dear,” he cheers.

“Alastor, you didn’t--”

“Nonsense! It’s our first Valentine’s together and it must be the best of all time!” Ever one for theatrics, with a flourish of his arm the room is filled with red roses.

“Oh my goodness,” you giggle and cup his face in your hands. “You darling man.”

Alastor melts into your hands, letting the softness of your palms warm his cheeks.

“Only for you, love.” He leans forward and nuzzles your nose. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

If you weren’t worried about getting to the store and back in time, you would have stayed here, exactly like this, for hours more.

“Let’s begin the day, shall we, love?” You whisper.

“But it’s cold!” He whines. “And you’re so warm!”

“Ugh, you’re such a southern boy,” you tease and pull away from him, if only to draw him out of his blanket nest and into the world.

“You love this southern boy,” he laughs and finally rises. With a quick snap, he’s dressed in a redder-than-average suit with one of the red roses on your floor now pinned to his lapel.

He hands you your coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and tries to force another sweater upon you but you stop him before you’re a complete bundle of wool and layers.

---

Charlie must have gotten up early because the entire lobby is littered with hearts and confetti. Chocolates are on every available surface and your fearless leader is currently snuggling with Vaggie in matching heart sweaters. You watch Angel hand Husk a box of chocolates wrapped in a lovely bow. Hesitantly, Husk opens the box and spits out whatever he was drinking all over your brother before stomping away with a red face.

“What did you do to that poor man?” You call over.

“Just gave him an innocent token of my affections,” Angel chimes and shows you the contents of the box: three rows of chocolates with letters printed on each piece, spelling out “Best Dick Ever.”

“Angel, that is so vulgar,” you exclaim.

“It’s the day of love, sis.” Angel pops one of the pieces into his mouth.

“That is not love, my fellow,” Alastor chastises.

“Aww, that’s cute coming from you, strawberry pimp.”

“I’ll have you know that I am plenty romantic,” Alastor says incredulously. “Aren’t I, (Y/N)?”

“You are, love. The most romantic,” you coo. “Now I have to get going. Please be nice, boys.”

“And you,” Alastor leans down to pull your scarf tighter around you, “promise me that you will be careful. You’re sure I can’t come with you?”

“I’m sure, love. I’ll be fine. Angel,” you turn to him. “Be nice.”

“’K, mom,” he calls back to you, waving as you begin your journey into the chilly winds.

“So,” Angel drawls, sidling up to Alastor. “What are you doing for my sister on this ever most sacred day of love and affection?”

“Something special and perfect and I will not have you distracting me,” Alastor sighs and snaps his fingers, transporting himself to his cottage deep in the woods of the Pentagram. Because only a crazy person would want to walk out in that cold. Good thing Alastor loves your kind of crazy.

---

It’s been a while since Alastor has been to his home, his actual home, one that is reminiscent of the large, Queen Anne-style homes of New Orleans. Dust is collecting on the counters and window sills, but that’s nothing that some quick magic can’t fix. The real task at hand is the redecorating and the meal he has to prepare for tonight to be as perfect as can be. This is certainly not the first time that you’ve been to his home but he’s hoping that it will be the last time that he calls it “his home.”

If he had it his way, tonight would be the night that Alastor asked you to marry him, to spend the rest of eternity -- or as long as you’d have him at least -- together in Hell as husband and wife, as partners in crime until the very fabric of the universe began to fray at the seams. He’s known for so long, long before you began your courtship, that he wanted to marry you and it took everything within him not to propose to you on your first date. But he had to be patient, suave, a perfect gentleman, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off with a hasty courtship and engagement. The last man who had attempted that with you, well, Alastor was still in the process of hunting him down so he could offer you his head on a spit. That was supposed to be the second part of your Valentine’s gift but alas, the wretched soul was more slippery than he had anticipated.

Hopefully you’d be impressed enough by the way he had decorated the house with some of your favorite colors and furniture from the 1940s, things to make it look more like a home you could share and grow into.

---

The beauty about Hell in the wintertime is that there are so few people out on the streets to bother you. The sidewalks and roads are eerily quiet, the snow swallowing up distant sounds so the only ones left is the crunch of your boots. Your trip to Rosie’s had been quick, as the poor woman was overrun with sinners trying to buy up last-minute Valentine’s gifts. As she said to you in passing while gift wrapping some tacky jewelry for a panicked demoness, “good for business, bad for relationships.”

You clutched your gift bag close to your chest, guarding it from any muggers who would even dare steal the most perfect gift for your Alastor. This was weeks in the making and you were not about to let someone ruin your first good Valentine’s Day.

You approached the door to the hotel, already anticipating a warm fire to warm your cheeks and nose, when suddenly an arm is around you and you’re no longer in front of the hotel. No, after blinking your eyes to readjust, you’re now staring at Alastor’s home, which means the arm and body hugging you close belongs to your sweet, adoring, and sometimes startling beau.

“Alastor!” You squeal. “What have I told you about surprising me like that?”

“I’m sorry, love,” he chuckles. “But I just couldn’t have you out in the cold any longer.”

“If this wasn’t a day dedicated to love you’d be buried in snow right now,” you grumble.

“I don’t doubt that, sweetest. Now come on, the fire is waiting for you.”

When Alastor first brought you into his home it was your one-month anniversary. You were actually relieved when it wasn’t a massive mansion like most Overlords pick for themselves, and you couldn’t help but be charmed by the perfectly retro, 1920s decor.

But it’s different now. The living room has new, floral wallpaper and some of the furniture reminds you of... your old home back in New York.

“You redecorated,” you shiver as you allow the warmth of the home heat up your body. Alastor rubs his hands up and down your shoulders to warm you up as soon as your coat and layers have been shed.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes.

“Oh it’s lovely,” you breathe and inhale, smelling the hot meal he’s probably slaved over. “Just surprising. What brought this on?”

“Oh, just, wanted to try something new. Are you ready for dinner?”

“I’ve been salivating since I first stepped into the door.”

Dinner is delicious, mouth wateringly incredible and cajun. But all throughout dinner you couldn’t help but notice the way Alastor’s knee bounced or the way his hand shook whenever he held his fork to his mouth. Not to mention the eery quiet between you two. You can’t seem to get more than a one-word response out of him. It makes your heart drop, and the way his eyes shift away from your gaze makes a pit form in your stomach.

“Alastor, love. Is everything alright?”

His eyes dart up to meet yours. His teeth worry his bottom lip and you can hear his fingers tapping excessively on his seat.

“Of course, darling. Everything is right as rain. Are you enjoying your food?”

“It’s amazing, Al. It’s always amazing.” You beam at him and reach across the table to hold on to his hand.

“If you don’t have any more delightful surprises for me, love, could I give you my gift now?”

“(Y/N) you didn’t--”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.”

Reaching down beside your chair, you pull out the perfectly wrapped present and slide it across the table to him.

“It’s not much,” you explain. “But I hope you like it.”

It’s perfect. So perfect, the wrapping, the bow, the very idea that his darling has given him a gift at all, that he doesn’t even want to open it. As much as he wants to tear it open, there’s the urge to keep this moment preserved in his mind forever and ever, just in case his present to you goes south tonight.

But from the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide and hopeful, he knows he has to open it right now.

Inside is a little plastic... view finder? He’s really never seen anything like this. They look like binoculars but there’s a little white disk inside with small film negatives along the circumference.

“It’s a reel viewer,” you explain. “Put it up to your eyes and click the lever.”

So he does. And with each click he’s met with little candids of you and him, some from before your relationship began, some from after, all of them more perfect than the last and preserved forever just for him. His heart swells and warms an overwhelming amount. His joy leaks from his mouth and eyes, until it feels like the sun itself is pouring through his teeth and tears.

“Oh, (Y/N), darling...” he sniffles.

“I know it’s not much but--”

“It’s everything, dearest.” It really is. And more importantly it’s enough for him to get his act together. He feels like he can breathe again, like the fog of doubt has finally been lifted. What was he so worried about? You love him, of course, you love him.

“It’s perfect.” He rises and comes to kneel before you. “More lovely and wonderful than you will ever know. So much better than my gift to you but I hope you will love it all the same. I love it, (Y/N). I love you. So, so very much, dearest.”

“Alastor, I’m going to love anything you give me because I love you, sweetheart.” You peck his nose.

“Yes, well, that’s the thing. Because really, this feels more like just another gift from you to me.”

“Is it now?” You tease.

“It is...” he sighs. “I love you. I hope you never have to doubt that for an instant in your life. And I know this might be too soon, and you can say no for now, or forever, but I have never doubted for a minute that you are the one for me. My gift to you, love, sweetheart, darling dearest, is this.”

He motions to the dining room.

“The... dining room?”

“No, love,” he chuckles. “The house. My house... Our house. If you’ll have it. If you’ll have me.”

You gasp and tears flood your eyes so quickly that you have to blink them away to see Alastor’s hopeful eyes properly.

“You’re asking me to move in with you?”

“I am. I’m asking you to make this house, our home.”

“Oh, Alastor.” You launch forward and wrap your arms around his neck. You press your lips to his in a bruising kiss, letting him bundle you up in his own arms and grip your waist.

You pull way for a brief moment, short enough to mumble out a fervent series of ‘yeses.’

“Of course,” you say between kisses to his face. “Of course, I’ll move in with you.”

#alastor x reader #alastor x Chubby!reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #valentine's day #they say write the stories you want to see

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skywatch3rs · 3 years

Text

A jumbo post to wrap up what a normal week looks like as a student musher at a folk high school in Arctic Norway!

Friday 22.1.21 – Saturday 23.1.21

Friday is always a half day; because we have class on 2 out of every 3 Saturday mornings, we get Friday afternoon off. After the normal morning routine, we have another valfag (elective), which for me is Sami fabric crafts. Last semester we made a Luhkka, a Sami hooded cape made out of felted wool, which was incredibly fun. I hadn’t used a sewing machine in over a decade, and at every single stage of making my luhkka something went wrong and I had to do it over again, but that only made the finished product even more satisfying to wear!

I'm unlikely to find a career in either modelling or fashion design but I was wildly happy to have made a wearable garment!

This semester we’re going to be making a leather coffee bag, which I am planning to keep dog treats in, rather than coffee. The materials haven’t arrived yet, however, so today we all bring our various knitting projects, and I also darn a couple of holes in one of my wool tshirts– an occupational hazard of working with dogs is that wool is quite vulnerable to their claws! Spending time in the sewing room reminds me of hanging out in the art classroom all the time in high school, with people working on different projects and a warm, kind teacher available to help with anything, so Friday mornings are one of my favourite times of the week.

After lunch, we have a whole school meeting, where today we are electing the new student council president. Each dormitory has a student representative, one of whom will be president. We vote, then discuss some issues that haven’t been resolved from last semester, and then we’re done for the day, and, in fact, the week.

This weekend is one of our free ones, so with no class in the morning, some of my friends from the dog line and I are heading up to the school’s cabin at Ropelv for the night. We always have the opportunity to go to town on Friday afternoons for a couple of hours to shop or run errands, and Ropelv happens to be about 45 minutes north of Kirkenes, our nearest town, which itself is 30 minutes north of the school, at the coast. 10 of us load our backpacks into one of the minibuses, and head into town to collect and send various packages, and pick up snacks before our ‘hyttetur’ (cabin trip).

Warming up plates for our pizza in front of our best friend at Ropelv, the wood stove.

It is -15ºC outside, and the cabin at Ropelv is heated with just one wood stove, so it takes at least an hour for it to get warm enough for us to take our coats off once we’re inside– I climb inside my sleeping bag on the sofa to stay warm. We have running water here, which is a luxury, but it’s cold water only, and there’s also no phone signal, so it’s a really nice break from the “real world”. This trip is part a belated celebration of Amila’s birthday and part “yay we’re all back together after Christmas break and quarantine”, so once we warm up, we get into cosy clothes and start making the pizzas we’re going to have for dinner. There is a sauna at the cabin, but we don’t have enough wood to use it and keep the cabin warm enough overnight, so instead we play Politisk Ukortekt (basically Norwegian Cards Against Humanity), knit, eat pic’n’mix, and chat about everything and anything (but especially an in-depth discussion about Norwegian dialects). The last time I played PU was about 3 weeks into the school year, so it’s incredibly satisfying to actually be able to understand the game without google translating everything this time! Eventually we traipse off to bed around midnight, ready for a lie in the next morning.

Saturday rolls around, and we have a slow start with our breakfasts and coffee. One of the teachers is going to come and pick us up at 2pm so we can get back to school in time for dinner at 3, and we need to pack and clean, but since we’ve only been here one night there isn’t a lot to do. A few of us decide to go for a short walk up to a nearby viewpoint and try aking– basically tobogganing, but using large plastic bin bags, since we don’t have a togobban here at the cabin. Unfortunately there isn’t really enough ice on the roads, and there’s too much snow on the fields for it to work, but I get some hilarious videos of my friends trying to scoot down the road on their butts, sitting on a bin bag.

We tried some different aking techniques, but there just wasn't enough ice!

Emma, Martine and I head up to the viewpoint, and as soon as we get off the trail, we realise we made a mistake: while it was a relatively mild -14ºC on the shelter of the road, the winds from Storm Frank mean there’s powder snow up to our knees, and the wind chill drops the temperature down to a frigid -27ºC. We so did not dress for this. Nevertheless, we drag ourselves up to the top, and the view is absolutely worth it, though if we were more than 20 minutes from a warm cabin it would have been a dangerous idea to let our hands and faces get this cold. Frostbite and hypothermia are no joke!

My 'I have to take a photo before Storm Frank freezes my ears off' face.

We clean up the cabin and drive back to school, and after dinner I decide to postpone the shower I am looking forward to, in order to go skiing again. It’s still windy and actively snowing, but I want to get in some more practice before our trip next week, so I put in my headphones with some pump up music, and head out. I’m still going around just the short 1.2km loop behind school, but for the first time I manage to get around without falling at all! I remember that listening to music helped when I was learning to ice skate, and I’m relieved to find that it still helps me find a rhythm with skiing 15 years later. The hot shower is even better and more satisfying knowing I’ve earned it by going out and doing cardio (shudder) in rubbish weather, so I absolutely revel in it. The rest of the afternoon and evening consists of more good food (Saturday supper is always something delicious) and watching a movie in the common room with friends, before heading to bed.

#pasvik fhs #fhsliv #pasvik folkehøgskole #folk high school #folkehøgskole #norway

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sansbojokae · 4 years

Text

Meeting the homies

series: can’t you see?

He didn’t like her and she couldn’t figure out why. But what she doesn’t know is that he feels something other than hate. Something she wouldn’t think of. Changes needed to be made but for two different reasons.

paring: idol!wooyoung x idol!reader

genre: slight smut

word count: 1.9k

warning: just someone being an a**hole, cursing

a/n: I was so excited to post this

Your hands feel sticky from the perspiration collecting on your palms. Eyes glued to the windows as your manager pulls into the companies parking garage. You know you shouldn’t be as nervous as you are.

“Y/n breathe please.”

Your manager recites for the nth time now. You exhale and inhale closing your eye lids. Rubbing your hands on your jeans bottom lip tucked beneath your teeth.

“I’m not nervous, I’m not nervous, I’m not nervous.” You chant with following nods to reassure yourself

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“I hope not.” You say opening your eyes

Once parked into a designated spot your fingers fly to your phone. Sending wooyoung a text that you’ve made it.

“I assume you won’t make trouble and I can trust you to be here.”

You make eye contact with your manager and unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Of course. If anything goes wrong or when I’m ready I’ll call you.”

You’ve known your manager for about 3 years now and surprisingly you’ve never trusted anyone more. She eyes you in the rear view mirror and sends you a warm smile.

You grab a small bag with women necessities and exit the car. Squeezing your phone you wave to your manager as you begin walking to the elevator a few feet away.

Once you’ve reached the first floor of the building you see wooyoung sitting on one of the chairs aligned by the entrance.

“Wooyoungie!”

You call out and he immediately lifts his head from his phone and lets out a wide smile. You jog up to him and into his arms. The first thing that hits is his scent. He smiles of masculinity with a hint of citrus. Next is his body heat that touches your ice cold skin when he encloses his arms around you.

“Gosh it felt like forever waiting on you.” He says pulling back

He leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips. When you lean in for more you realize there’s people staring so he intertwines your fingers pulling you towards the floor elevator.

“Sorry I had to run a few errands before I came.”

“It’s alright. Did you eat yet?”

“I haven’t.”

“Great because seonghwa and I cooked something.” He says squeezing your hand

At that you smile to yourself. Awhile back wooyoung told you how he wants to improve on his cooking and been meeting different chefs for advice. This’ll be the first time you try his cooking and it’s an understatement to say you were excited.

As soon as the doors to the elevator close wooyoung pushes his floor number then swivels you around and presses your body to the wall. You widen your eyes by the sudden action but flutter them closed when he leans to the crevice of your neck and place a gentle kiss there.

“As much as I want you to taste my cooking, I’ve been dying to taste you.”

Your breathe catches in your throat and you reach up to hold onto his biceps.

“But your members.” You let out with a sigh as he starts littering kisses all over your skin

“I already told them.”

“B-but” you stutter when his teeth clasps onto your soft skin and runs his warm muscle over it

“That just means you’ll have to be quiet baby girl.”

Your legs start to feel weak as his grip on your waist tightens and his scent starts to become more intoxicating. With his breath caressing your skin you don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to hold on.

As you’re distracted by his nipping you don’t notice how one of his hands creeps down to the waistband of your jeans and he slips a finger past your panties. His middle digit slides down til it passes right through your slit collecting the arousal that built up.

He growls when he feels how wet your are by just his biting alone.

“That’s my girl.” He chuckles

The ding of the elevator opening has you immediately reaching for his wrist and pulling at his hand. He smirks removing his finger and turning around. An elderly man steps inside and wooyoung grabs your hand with his clean one tugging you out.

Feeling all hot and bothered you smack his chest and he starts laughing.

“You can’t just do that and expect me to be ready.” You pout

“It wouldn’t have been as fun if you knew my intentions.”

You roll your eyes but freeze when he lifts his digit and wraps his lips around it tasting your sex.

“Mmmm. I can’t wait to have you tonight.”

Your face burns and you keep your head low on the rest of the way to his dorm. It doesn’t take long to get there and when you arrive he immediately opens the door.

“I’m back everyone and I’d like to introduce my lovely girlfriend!”

His smile is wide again and you giggle at his boisterous volume. You recognize the members but only know a handful of their names. A young boy with knowable muscles sits on the couch holding a dumbbell. Jongho. When he turns to you he smiles awkwardly and stands up bowing.

You bow back and turn to the figure sitting on the floor beside him. His hair is blonde, long and has sharp facial features reminding you of a fairy of some sort. If you remember correctly his name was Yeosang. He waves with a small smile and you shyly wave back.

Coming down the hallway with bed hair is one of 2 tall members. You can’t miss his faded red hair and defined abs. You look away with yet another burn to your face.

“Yah! Go put on a shirt stick!” Wooyoung yells and steps in front of you to block the godly view

The boy mumbles something and you hear him padding his way back down the hall.

“That’s the bully I always tell you about. His name is Mingi.” Wooyoung whispers and you look up at him with sheepish smile

He closes the door and pulls you along to the kitchen. The first thing you see is a boy with black hair and handsome features. He’s the oldest of everyone you remember, Seonghwa.

Beside him is the other tall member and he’s reaching for a piece of kimchi as seonghwa fumes at him. He wears a bright smile unfaltured by the eldest gaze. You don’t know his name yet but wooyoung points and say,

“Yunho. He’s cool or whatever.” Wooyoung shrugs and at the sound of his name the boy turns to you

“Oh hiii. I’m glad we can finally meet you.”

You smile feeling welcomed by his cheery and friendly voice.

“I’m glad I could meet you all too.”

Seonghwa turns around and gives you a quick bow before turning to take the rice out of the maker.

“Where’s the small one?” You whisper to wooyoung and he chuckles

Wooyoung isn’t exactly the shortest member in the crew. He always brags about their leader who’s shorter than he is.

“Hey where’s hongjoong?”

“In his room working on a cover.”

“Ah.” Wooyoung nods

“But can you tell him that dinner is about ready.”

Wooyoung hums then gives you a kiss to the temple.

“Be right back.”

You nod and stand awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

“So how’s it going with your single? Wooyoung told me you where working on one. I heard some of your music and can I just say I am a fan.”

Seonghwa says taking out some pork belly from the fridge. You smile feeling more than comfortable to talk about your music.

“It’s going well. I’m pretty much done with it and all I have to do is record it.”

“Since you’re partners with our loud boy, do you think we could get a spoiler?”

Seonghwa raises his eyebrows turning your way and you smirk.

“I’ll think about it.”

You hear shuffling coming from the hallway and you turn thinking it’s wooyoung coming back but instead it’s another member. His face is familiar yet you can’t remember his name. He walks with a serious look on his face. When he makes eye contact with you for a second his eyes widen but before you could acknowledge it they retreat.

You nervously bow to him but he pays you no mind as he brushes past you. Your eyes furrow wondering why he didn’t do it back. Is he ok?

“Where you going?” Yunho asks

“Out.”

“Don’t take long because the food is almost done.”

He doesn’t say anything and just leaves.

“What’s his problem?” Yeosang asks

“It’s personal.” Jongho rolls his eyes

A few minutes later you’re helping seonghwa set up the table.

“Please you’re a guest you don’t have to.” Seonghwa says reaching for the plates in your hands

You shake your head placing them down by each chair.

“It’s just a habit.”

“Your girlfriend is so kind. Good snatch.” Hongjoong says smacking wooyoungs arm playfully and you blush

“Where’s San I’m ready to eat?” Jongho says taking a seat

And as if planned the said boy walks through the door. Everyone have taken their seats and the only empty one is across from you. You feel anxious as he pulls out the chair. For some reason you feel intimidated by him.

The dinner goes smoothly with laughter and a few questions thrown by the members about you. You tell them about yourself as wooyoung comments on things animatedly beside you. Even though everyone seems happy and bright there’s one member who hasn’t said anything and only picks at his food. Maybe today wasn’t his day you think.

“Now what the hell do you see in this guy?”

Mingi says and you giggle when wooyoung tries to reach over the table to scrabble with the tall boy.

“Hm good question. When I first met him he used cheesy pick up lines. Usually I wouldn’t go for those type of guys but he made me laugh so he earned my interest.”

“Clearly I’m irresistible to women with high standards.” Wooyoung says dusting of his shoulders

You roll your eyes pinching his arm.

“What’s so special about her?”

The table gets quiet when the member who’s been silent the whole evening speaks up.

“What?” Wooyoung says

“I mean come on. Does little miss perfect give good head or something? Her music is annoying and her style is..”

“Excuse me.” You say moving back from the table

It takes quite the bit to get you mad but this guy was already annoying you from the beginning. He ignored your welcoming gesture. Haven’t acknowledged you the whole evening and speaks out of nowhere rudely. Who do he think he is?

“San!” Hongjoong says in a stern voice

“Out of all the girls you had to choose her. I mean look at her. There’s nothing attractive about that.”

“What the fuck hyung!” Now it’s wooyoung that’s yelling

“I guess I could admit that you have nice lips. To bad they can’t help you sing any better.”

Tears well up at the bottom of your eyes and you wipe your hands on a nearby napkin. The chair screeches when you get out of your seat. You reach over the table and your hand swiftly moves across Sans face. There’s an echo from the slap and a gasp. Your hand stings but you know his face stings more.

“Thank you for having me for dinner but I should go.” You mumble and leave the dining room

“Y/n.” Wooyoung calls out but you ignore him grabbing your bag and walking out the door

A few seconds later wooyoung turns to san and lands a punch to his face. San doesn’t block and only laughs when he topples out of his seat. He holds his jaw wincing and when wooyoung moves to hit again yunho holds him back.

“How unfortunate.” San says lowly staring at the door you left through

<< masterlist >>

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emily-strange · 4 years

Text

Second Chances

So with some encouragement, I thought I’d start the John x reader fic I’ve had in my head for ages! I’m not forgetting about my Micah fic at all, for those who care ;) I just really can’t shake this idea.

For the premise of this story, Jack is a little bit younger. I just can’t hurt that boy’s feelings!

Summary: You're Sadie Adler’s 18 year old daughter who was visiting from school when the O’Driscolls attack. How will you cope with gang life and your increasing feelings for someone who, on the surface, isn’t up for grabs?

Pairing: John Marston x female reader

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

It’s freezing. The world outside blanketed in snow and ice.

Everyone sits huddled into the small Colter shack covered in blankets and large coats; doing whatever they can to stave off the bitter chill that leaks inside.

Mrs Adler is situated between you and Mary-Beth. She cries into her hands and lets the tears drop freely onto her skirt.

“Mama, you have to try and calm down” you say softly. Only to be met with more wailing. You take a deep breath and make your way to the other end of the shack where John, you think his name’s John, lies in a terrible state after his wolf attack.

You can’t help but sigh and rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension that keeps building. You’re pulled out of your thoughts by a croaky voice.

“Things really that bad?” John quietly asks before letting out a small laugh; followed by a hacking cough. You rush to sit on the little stool near his head and ease him up to help him cough better. After he’s done you lower him back down and smile.

“Oh you know. Been better.” you smile softly and place his freezing hands underneath the blanket that’s draped across him.

“Yeah I bet.” is all he can manage to say before wincing and you decide that a bit of light conversation might be a good distraction for you both.

“I just needed to breathe you know? Grief….it’s suffocating at the best of times let alone when you’re stuck with a bunch of strangers. Not that we ain’t grateful! I’m not saying that. Just….it’s….” you trail off struggling to find the right words but John jumps in with an answer.

“It’s like you’re being crushed.” he says and you give him a small, sad smile.

“Yeah…that’s about right….you know I haven’t even cried yet?” you whisper and hang your head in shame. John reaches out his hand from under the blanket and lightly brushes your hand to get your attention.

“Won’t lie. I don’t know everythin’ that brought ya to us, been kinda out of it. But…don’t beat yaself up so much. Can see it in yer eyes….won’t do no good. Ya doin’ all you can ‘n thatsa nuff.” he says through his broken, chapped lips.

You find yourself drawn to his eyes. Beautifully vibrant eyes that tell you he knows all about beating yourself up. You wonder what happened to him.

You give him a tired smile, “How did someone so wise get beaten by some wolves eh?”

It makes you happy inside to see John smile despite the terrible shape he’s in.

“Nah we’re tha same. Not beaten. Justa bit bruised” he huffs out.

Before you can say anything else, the woman who’s been sitting with your mother the most, bursts through the door with her little boy. If you had to guess you’d say he was about 2 or 3. The topic of children has never been one you’ve been interested in. You usually just nod and smile as people discuss them. You’re happier to actually have a chat with the children rather than the parent.

Abigail storms her way over to John and you jump up and out of the way.

“John” she says rather curtly, “the boy wanted to see ya.”

You look at Jack and to be perfectly honest, the kid doesn’t seem interested in the slightest. He’s looking at the blonde woman who’s sat in the corner drinking with an old man. She’s making faces and little Jack is loving it.

Your attention is snapped back when John answers Abigail. You weren’t aware that they’re a family. In all fairness your mind has been elsewhere the last couple of days.

“Yeah, well, now he’s seen me.” John grumbles at her, not even looking at Jack. You can tell that Abigail is instantly pissed off by this.

“Guess I was hoping to see a corpse!” she shouts before walking Jack away to be in front of the fire.

For a moment you stand shocked at what you’ve just seen. It’s clearly a very messy situation and with everything that’s going on, you’re staying far away from it.

John looks at you and you smile awkwardly before moving back to sit with your mother who collapses onto your shoulder. You put your arms around her and rock her back and forth, like she used to do to you as a child.

You can’t help but notice that John is still straining his neck to look at you before giving up and relaxing into the thin cot underneath him.

Days pass and you move on with the gang. The 'Van der Linde’ gang you learn.

You arrive at Horseshoe Overlook and begin helping unload the wagons. You can hear Miss Grimshaw screaming already and the sound cuts right through you. As you’re carrying a large bag over to one of the tents you see Arthur walking away from Dutch. From what you’ve gathered by listening, and what you’ve been told, Arthur is his right hand man.

The bag is taken from your hands and you look up to see your mother.

“Go on” she motions towards Arthur and you smile; jogging off to catch him before he mounts up.

“Umm excuse me, Mr Morgan?” you call out and he stops, turning to look at you. He genuinely seems like a nice man. Fatherly almost. You’ve not seen him lose his temper yet as you have with the other men. Well, other than kind Hosea of course.

“Yes, Miss Adler, what can I do fer you?” he asks and you smile.

“Y/N. Please.” you say and he nods, saying in that case you’re to call him Arthur. You nod.

“Okay, Arthur. Well I was wondering if you could put in a good word with Dutch for me?” you start, “See, my skills don’t really lie with sewing and washing. I’m happy to do that of course, you’ve all been so kind to me and my mom. I just….I’m a really good hunter.”

“Is that so?” Arthur says smirking, but not unkindly.

“Yeah. Living where we did, I had to be.” you laugh.

You don’t see it, but Arthur looks across the camp and see’s your mother watching you both. She nods and mouths “please”. He subtly nods back.

“Well, hows about this. The woman’ve been yappin’ at me that they’re bored. So when I get back from runnin’ this errand, I’ll take you all inta town 'nd we’ll get some supplies. We’ll go huntin’ and if I like what I see I’ll talk ta Dutch.” he smiles and turns to mount onto his horse.

You smile a real smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

“Thank you Mr..Arthur” you say correcting yourself.

“No problem. Now, go help out before Miss Grimshaw gets ta ya” Arthur chuckles before riding out of camp.

As you walk back toward your mom you hear a grown from inside a large tent. Curiosity gets the better of you and you glance inside to see John struggling to turn over on his cot.

“Hey, need a hand?” you ask quietly as to not make him jump.

“Ya know what. A hand would be mighty helpful” he laughs and you cant help but laugh too when you see the mess he’s gotten himself into trying to get comfortable.

However while entering the tent you can clearly see that John’s only wearing his union suit without the blanket covering him.

“Umm” you clear your throat, “Maybe I should go get Abigail?” you say trying to avoid looking in his general direction. You point outside of the tent and move to exit before John jumps in.

“God, no. Please just….just help me shift downa bit. Please?” John sounds so fragile and you just can’t find it in you to refuse him. You meet his eyes and fight a smile.

“Okay” you say and go over to help him move down the cot. He gets his legs into a comfortable position and holds onto your arm while you use your other one to support his upper-back. Once John’s comfy you find yourself just watching his relaxed face.

“Ah thanks. Much better.” he sighs and you smile.

You take a moment to study John in the light of his open tent. The scars on his face are healing well but still look sore and angry, as do his bruises. He looks almost frail. There wasn’t much to eat up in the mountains, everyone seems a bit gaunt but having been missing for so long John seems to be the worst.

John snaps you out of your trance.

“Haven’t seen much of ya.” he notes.

“Um, yeah, you know. Its all been a bit manic” you laugh humorlessly.

“I was uh, kinda worried Abigail said sumthin’ to ya.” he adds awkwardly.

That takes you aback.

“What? Um no….no she hasn’t said anything” you say quickly while glancing through the gap in the tent flaps. You can see Abigail ushering Jack into their newly designated area of camp. Your eyes snap back to John as he manages to prop himself up on his elbows.

“He….he ain’t mine.” he starts and you find yourself fiddling with your hands, “She tells everyone he is. 'nd I got nothin’ against the kid but….he ain’t mine.”

This really is none of your business. But you can’t help the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.

“Why…why would she lie?” you ask quietly but before he can answer, the flaps of the tent are pulled open.

“John!” Abigail shouts before coming to a sudden halt in front of you. Your eyes go wide and you can’t help but stutter like a child who’s been caught stealing candy.

“I…was just helping…John….but I um” you say quickly.

“But you was just leavin'” Abigail finishes for you which John admonishes her for.

“Abby for God’s sake” he starts but you cut him off.

“No, I was just leaving. B…bye John.” you say even quicker and give a clearly angry Abigail a small, awkward smile as you sneak past her. She doesn’t give you any extra room so you have to make yourself as small as possible to get past.

Soon as you’re on the other side of the tent she drops the flaps and starts whispering harshly to John. You stand for a few seconds trying to work out what they’re saying before you give up and make your way over to your mom.

“You okay baby?” your mom asks when you join her on a large rock just outside camp.

“Oh yeah. Fine.” you sigh and rub your tired face.

“You weren’t made to be cooped up like this” your mom says before she starts crying again, “I’m sorry this happened”.

“Oh mama don’t say that” you say before hugging your mother tight, “We’ll be okay.”

You hold your mother as she cries. Rocking her back and forth, all the while watching as Abigail storms back out of John’s tent. She catches your eye and you look away from her. You can’t deal with all this drama right now. You have to get yourself back on your feet; to start rebuilding your mothers life. The one that was so cruelly taken from her.

“We’ll be okay,” you repeat quietly.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #john marston #rdr2 john #rdr2 john marston #john marston x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 sadie adler #rdr2 sadie #sadie adler #rdr2 tag #red dead redemption 2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic

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lawfulpride · 4 years

Text

RP With @honourablebravery (Please LIKE THIS POST if you want to read more!)

captaincoffee07/23/2020

--Scene Shift-- Tracking down Davos was something Thor had clearly been over-thinking. Indeed, Thor has been considering it here and there for quite a long time, before he accidentally comes across Davos mid-way through leaving Stark Tower just as the Asgardian is on his way in. He is surprised-and delighted, clutching a large iced coffee in one hand and a grocery bag in the other, his faded blue jeans, work boots and dark red v-neck a stark contrast to the outfits he'd wear otherwise. His face lighting up with deliberate interest and joy at the other. "Davos!! How fortunate! I've been wondering of you for months now, how have you been?" His booming voice a little bit more frantic than he intended, clearly more excited than he'd taken into account originally.

Hopeful07/23/2020

The Kung Fu master stills, stiffens, and turns. He's still unaccustomed to being a welcome sight in New York City. In fact, nobody has ever been excited to see Davos; usually Davos brings up the rear, or escorts, the Person of Importance at any given hour, while quietly perfecting his own craft and waiting for his own moment . . . a moment which never came. Or didn't it?

" . . . you are Thor. The Asgardian royal." He bows at the waist, then straightens. Even his casual movements carry a precision and a grace that speak of his lifelong training. "I have to admit, our last encounter, I wasn't. Very gracious, forgive me. I was also ill of mind and soul. I have read every file of every colleague who frequents this building. You're a formidable warrior."

A small smirk. "But can you take Carol Danvers?"

captaincoffee07/23/2020

He laughs, not really taking the social cue Davos is sending too well-Loki had always been better at reading people. Which was what made him so good at stealth attacks once upon a time. Well, one of what Thor likes to think are many things, truly. "There is nothing to be sorry for, to repent for' Thor says, with ease. "Truly, I was not bothered at all. And well, if you ever wished to spar on friendly terms, I am never one to say no." The smile only widening. "Your skill set is impressive, and your moves enticing" He is fond to see Davos mentioning others, and the grin, seemingly impossible to widen, does regardless, "Carol Danvers would oh so easily best me, but if she's feeling generous she may allow me a moment of victory before doing so."

Hopeful07/23/2020

Davos's eyebrows shoot high and he studies Thor up and down, but then before he can display more gregarious body language, he folds his hands in front of himself. It's clearly a conscious reminder to himself that he doesn't have the "luxury" of casual schmoozing, but must always set a sterling example. Slowly, slowly, he's going to unlearn this. But it's still all brand-new.

Still, there's a small unguarded smile on his lips, and that's sa wonderfully promising sign. "I didn't make much of a dent, but you are gracious. Perhaps I should brush up on my technique. They say the well aimed blow can bring down even a boulder, but I do not know if my masters in K'un-Lun ever fought an actual god."

At word of Carol--unquestionably Davos's favorite person to meet in months or even years--that smile grows teeth. "She is gifted."

captaincoffee07/23/2020

"I am not at such liberty to say whether they did nor not" Thor says, his tone seemingly retrospective, or was it introspective, perhaps? "For your K'un-Lun Master's, they are a people I know tragically little of, and I would not claim to know their secrets-nor yours." He's gracious, and Thor, try as he might to keep to himself, is always such an open and honest presence. His heart, emotions, his state of being always out for the world to see, to know. No matter how much he may desire otherwise at times. He's unbothered for it now, but sometimes.. Well, nothing to worry about there currently. "Carol is very gifted, as are you, I find that it is an honour to know, to see people, and to have come across your path, especially. I think there is much we could learn from one another, Davos"

Hopeful07/23/2020

Davos tries to take Thor's kind praises in stride, but looks very much like a lethally intelligent guard dog reduced to walking around lopsidedly in doggie snow boots. That is, he looks pleasantly puzzled. "You think so, do you." He glances at Thor's parcel. "Would you like help with that . . . ?" Look at the man, what a stupid thing to offer, he could probably lift a car with one hand, but sometimes making himself useful is preferable, in Davos's estimation, to standing there stupefied by praise.

captaincoffee07/23/2020

Thor is momentarily perplexed, then he laughs. "Oh! This?" Lifting the grocery bag, "Nothing much in here, some candy bars, coffee in various flavours..would you like some? I have lots" He seems tragically oblivious to Davos' awkwardness, merely eager to share in whatever friendship he clearly, desperately wishes to form.

Hopeful07/23/2020

Davos's features tighten primly. "I don't drink coffee. It's poison to the body." A pause. "I. I drink tea."

captaincoffee07/23/2020

"I have tea upstairs" He chimes, utterly undeterred, 'Green? White? Orange Pekoe..Oolong?"

Hopeful07/23/2020

"I am. I am very fond of Oolong, yes." His errands can wait. He pivots on his heel subtly, in the same direction as the Thunder God.

captaincoffee07/23/2020

Thor steps through the glass doors with Davos, giving Jarvis instructions at the elevator for his floor. "Jarvis is very kind'' He says, "Yet I've not been able to adapt to him entirely."

HopefulYesterday at 11:41 AM

Davos steps into the elevator and scowls at the omnipresent voice of the A.I. "Sentient life in the walls. Yes, I still grow accustomed to such feats of technology."

captaincoffeeYesterday at 8:40 PM

"It is quite bizarre, is it not? What has been accomplished with technology? How the world can seem so dependant upon it. Functionality based through electricity..it's very interesting, to me." The elevator dinged, Thor getting off first-not to be rude-but to give Davos some space, "You said you like oolong right?"

HopefulYesterday at 8:49 PM

The small compact man follows the beefcake of a god, contemplating his words and drawing his eyes around the room. "Yes, I've...had to chase quite the learning curve after leaving my homeland.....my people are certainly familiar with contemporary technologies, but not quite so reliant upon....them....you. Have quite the elite clearance, don't you?" Tony's given Davos a lot of freedom considering he was a convicted felon not so long ago. But his modest quarters several floors down from the Avengers' lodgings don't compare remotely to this.

captaincoffeeYesterday at 8:53 PM

"I am afraid to tell you that I currently do not have a proper tea brewer, and will be using the electric kettle" His face pulling just so, showing legitimate discontent with not being able to make the tea with the leaves and fire-boiled water. He also realized he's only got normal furniture, with nothing that makes for good kneeling. "I may put in some more rugs, perhaps? Pillows?" He seems to be speaking almost to himself now, withdrawing an oak worn tea box from a grey cupboard, setting it aside and filling a red electric kettle at the side. "Learning curves are quite..intense, or can be'

HopefulYesterday at 8:59 PM

Davos's sternly serious face pulls in response, into a small but tickled smile. "My reputation as a picky eater precedes me, does it? I promise I won't shame you. And I'm quite accustomed to Western seating arrangements. May I?" He gestures at the couch.

captaincoffeeYesterday at 9:01 PM

Thor laughs, "I must admit, some of it was standard speculation" Gesturing behind himself, "Yes, of course, make yourself at home. I try to go for comfort, so the couch is very well stuffed."

HopefulYesterday at 9:06 PM

Davos's smile spreads just slightly and he eases to a seat. "Comfort, now that is something that's never been part of my repertoire." He sinks deeper into the couch, not of his own volition, blinking slightly at its squishiness. "Ehm, and." He turns and looks at it, and realizes there's not much to be done, and surrenders to his undignified fate. "And, anyway. That's mostly due to the expectations of my youth. Tell me, are you familiar with crushing familial expectations?" He tries to sound whimsical.

captaincoffeeYesterday at 9:09 PM

Thor chuckled, "Often" He turns his head, leaning against the counter, his gaze only trailing Davos. "I was very arrogant in youth, it led to my banishment.. Loki, my sibling, we have not always seen eye-to-eye, and the one whom banished me, my father..was not as I had assumed.. "

HopefulYesterday at 9:12 PM

Davos's features freeze. "You have a brother...and you quarreled?" It sounds more like a statement than a question. His eyes are locked on Thor now, and they're afraid, but not of Thor. Afraid to not have answers. To have unexpectedly found someone who gets a particular and deep pain, and can talk about it.

captaincoffeeYesterday at 9:22 PM

Thor's gaze darkens, slightly glassy. "We did..often.." The kettle screams, making him turn to give it attention. "We had to learn, much, and sometimes, no, often, I still worry."

HopefulYesterday at 9:25 PM

"....but you learned." Davos's whole form, his posture, is now stiff and rigid. A vein appears dead center of his shaven forehead. "You were willing to listen. How did you do it?"

captaincoffeeYesterday at 9:31 PM

"Being banished was the start. That taught me much of myself. How I was fool-hardy..arrogant, brash. And yet, it took battle, it took-" Loki's face as he fell from the bifrost's rainbow bridge, scalding his vision, haunting him. "Other things..many..hiccups" The tea prepared, he moves to offer Davos the cup, a small white and gold piece of china, sitting upon a saucer. "Here you are"

HopefulToday at 12:27 PM

Davos takes the cup, and places it down without touching it. He's focused like a laser. "I have a brother. Not of my blood, but in spirit. The chasm that lies between us is borne of his . . . . he neglected his duties. Duties I was willing to uphold, but was not chosen for. He ran away. He lives in this city, and in truth I am only here because I came to find him and bring him home. He would not come and." He catches himself sharply. "I'm sorry, this is unseemly. I scarcely know you."

captaincoffeeToday at 4:57 PM

Thor, never the best at 'reading a room', is not foolish enough to be entirely oblivious. Good at this? Nah, probably not. Oblivious? Not so. The slight crease in his brow furrows further and further inward, before he moves to seat himself beside Davos-keeping a good forearm of space between them so Davos doesn't feel crowded in. "Well, you scarcely know me now, generally I have learned that speaking with someone on friendly terms can change that." They clearly have some sort of shared ground, and Davos seems to burn with the need to speak. Perhaps as Loki, he's forever been unheard Thor thinks, a pin-prick of bitterness touching his heart. "Is it something that you would wish to discuss? I am no wordsmith, but I have a gentle ear, and the ability for pragmatism."

HopefulToday at 7:16 PM

"It's . . .. . " Davos ducks his head. He's been working on this: hard. But revelations of his personal struggles remain shameful terrain he was trained for 28 solid years to keep to himself. "It's. Not." He sighs, and looks up. "It's not seemly. For someone like me. I am. I am still learning that I have the right to be." He blinks. "Well. Human."

He gives Thor a long look. " . . . the person I put all my faith and trust in was my brother. When we turned 28, we were the two final contestants, out of all the monks in our temple, to go to trial for the most prestigious title--and responsibility--of my homeland. I was winning. Winning, but I couldn't kill him, even though that was the custom, so I begged him to yield. He was losing badly, but he still wouldn't listen to me, he kept fighting. And I kept winning. And then the light passed over the windows of the temple, and blinded me for but a moment. And Danny . . . his name is Danny, Danny Rand . . . .you've surely heard of him, he is as rich and at least half as famous as Mr. Stark . . . . he took the advantage and disarmed me, and won."

"In that one moment everything I had ever wanted, everything I had ever dreamt of becoming, was gone." He grinds his jaw. "But I was still willing to stand by his side as he took the Iron Fist . . . .the title and the duty of which I spoke. And he thanked me by abandoning us. Abandoning me."

"Coming back here. To play white Kung Fu hero to a city full of reprobates.”

#Davos Iron Fist #Davos #Interactions: Thor Odinson

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fandomnomad · 4 years

Text

Throne of Glass Oneshot

Carter was finding it quite difficult to keep his anger and frustration in check. The king had ordered him to look into the death of one of his ministers. Not that the prick was of much importance, but murder of one of kings lackeys demanded an investigation even if it was only a show piece. Carter had gotten stuck in this errand 'cause the king had begun to be more and more cautious nowadays. With not much luck to him in finding out why. It could be due to the arrest of Adarlan’s Assasin a few months ago, though there wasnt much to lead on in there. A magnificent peice that one.

So here he was now, doing law stuff in a city he liked and despised so much. Carter was one of the people the king kept for doing his dirty work . He moved through the city like a feral cat. Unpredictable, dangerous but composed. It was because of these qualities(and many others) that the king let him live instead of killing him like he had done for the other children of Terrasen. Only a few of them remained now. The sheer devastation of his country still haunted him in his nightmares. He was eleven when it had happened, and he alongside his friend Aedion had fought in the battle. Both of them had been brought to Adarlan to work for the King.

The night was getting colder. The chilly wind snapped him back to the present. He was near his destination now. One of the most wealthy and popular brothels in Rifthold. Clarisse's brothel.

His investigation had led him to The king of Assasins. Arobyn Hamel. The one who had passed along the contract of the assasination of the Minister. He wasn't here to arrest Hamel, no, he was merely here to show him to not cross his lines. Just a warning. He had found out Hamel's preference - a whore named Lysandra. He was here for a power play that the snivelling bastard Perrington had asked him to do instead of arrest.

Inside of the brothel was probably more luxurious than many of the kings minister’s palaces. Almost all of the whole city's wealthiest criminals were a regular here. He waltzed inside with his swaggering arrogance looking for Lysandra. Declining whores -both male and female, and businessmen alike.

After a couple of minutes he found his target - Arobyn Hamel. By the looks of it the whore sitting in his lap would be Lysandra. He sat down in the couch beside Hamel. Not caring about his gaurd dogs that were hovering around. Second rate assasins.

"Quite a wild one you've got there." His cool collected voice drawing the King of Assassin's attention. As well as his toy's. The girl probably wasn't even 20. But not even a fool would deny her beauty. She looked surprised at the interruption and rightly so; not many would dare interrupt the King of assasins. The prize was Hamel though, Carter could sense his surprize. Not that Hamel would ever show it. He fixed Carter with a look that would make even the bravest of the Knights running. But not him. No. Carter just smirked cheekily at him.

Not getting a response Carter said, "Still not out of the pleasure fest, eh mate?" Eyeing Lysandra Carter signaled her to come to him. By now Hamel had recognised the person before him. Rare were the people that didn’t cower before the King of Assassins. And this person wasn’t one to be messed with.

Lysandra was now situated in Carter's lap.

Carter's POV

Gotta say this girl is a rare beauty. My one hand was gripping her arm tight. Tight enough to leave visible bruises. Other hand was on her thighs, getting higher and higher. I breathed in her scent and kissed her neck deeply, making her squirm in both pleasure and pain. My hand reached up and jerked her roughly. My tight grip trapping her. Hamel didn't seem to like it.

"Yes. An exquisite one." Hamel finally said. His fist getting tighter in frustration.

"Well the blood money does have its perks.” I looked at Hamel sardonically, daring him to do anything. Ridiculing the King of Assasins. I was getting on his nerves I could tell. “Not many peices like this one up or down in the palace. Better keep a look out. People there are money mongering as I’m sure you know but even they wouldn’t amount to much there. ” Staright and to the point. Hamel now completely understood the reason for my presence. His jaw muscles were flexing. His silver eyes were full of rage at the blatant disrespect shown to him. Damn! It was nice to get this much reaction out of him. I had made my point clear. I gave him a final mocking smirk and dragged Lysandra out with me, tossing a pouch full of coins at Clarisse who was staring at me open-mouthed. Leaving a fuming King of Assasins behind. The colour of his face now matching his hair.

I dragged Lysandra to one of the rooms in the brothel. Making sure to make it rough. My grip had her squirming. Just outside of one of the rooms, I slammed her hard on her wall. A small gasp of pain broke out of her as well as a few whimpers. Squeezing her thigh and neck tight I placed a few kisses on the exposed part of her shoulder. Sucking and kissing at her hard enough to get her squirming and whimpering in pain I slammed her into the wall once again. My hands were roaming all over her body as I left a trail of kisses, getting more and more rough and sadistic. I could feel her fear rising, I doubt she has experienced monsters like me. Well Arobyn is another case. I looked at her, My eyes reflecting anger and sadism. As I noticed one of Arobyn’s lackeys coming into earshot I grabbed her jaw and whispered sadistically, “Listen here bitch. Tell your... client to keep in line and to keep track of his dogs and toys, ‘cause if he doesn’t he’s gonna lose all his toys. Starting with the dogs." I looked directly at Turner, one of his dogs, making him scurry back to his master. The final message was sent.

Though she was good at covering up I could see the fear in her eyes. And damn her even though she was so terrified she glared at me and tried to push me away. Nice. Tonight was going to be nice.

With this I opened the door and dragged her inside and threw her on the bed. Inside there was a bed in the center, with low drawers on either side. a table, couple of chairs, and some fine alcohol on the table. Everything in a shade of red or black. I went back and locked the door. I turned around and saw her sitting on the bed in anticipation. I could smell her fear. Her arms were unconciously rubbing the bruises that I had left, but stopped as soon as she saw me noticing it. I walked towards her. She was glaring at the floor, getting more and more tense by each step. Sitting down beside her, I caressed her face. Lifted her face that was previously looking down. Her beautiful green eyes met my emotionless ones.

Abrubtly I stood up and walked to the table and poured the wine in two glasses.

“Dont worry kitten I ain’t gonna fuck you.” I felt her freeze in surprize at the sudden turn of events.

Lysandra’s POV

I was sure that my eyebrows went above my hairline. What he just said.... One moment he was so terrifyning and now... now I couldnt feel any of the sadistic aura that he had around him all night. Ah.. it was a power play with Arobyn Hamel then. Still.. I'm quite expensive and he had paid everything in advance. He also looked like someone who had seen and done much much worse than just forcing someone, much less something he paid for.

“Why?”

“Why?” He mused. A mischevious smirk on his face. “ Well kitten because you seem like you dont wanna get fucked, especially by me.” What. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came to my mind. He handed me a glass of wine. and lied down beside me. He starred at me for a few minutes. It was unusual. His eyes had this look in them. I couldn’t tell what it was, or what he’s thinking. Interesting.

“Though you do look ravishing.” He said in a deep guttral voice that sent shivers down my spine. His hand was now moving across my bare back giving me goosebumps. I felt the familiar fear return. He sat up and grabbed my jaw. This time though his grip was gentle. Firm but gentle. He pushed me further back in the bed. I was in a lying position now, with him on top of me. I couldn’t move my eyes away from him. I dont know if it was due to fear or something else, but his gaze was captivating. He brought his face dangerously close to mine. My whole body was tensed at what he would do. Normally my clients are prety easy to work with, they're all so predictable and not that hard to manipulate, they all want the same thing as fast and as much as possible in the time the paid for. But this one? So unpredictable. Our faces were just a few milimeters apart, any closer and they would have been brushing against each other.

“Sleep now Kitten, you surely need it.” What again. He said in a quite voice and and rolled off me, laying beside me seemingly in a deep thought.

Carter’s POV

Her eyes were wide in surprize. I snorted from where I was looking at the ceiling. “Wh- why are you...”

“Why am I letting you have your much needed sleep even when I’ve paid hadsomely in advance for the whole night?” I said with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

She nodded starting to relax a little. Good.

“Well contrary to what majority assumes kitten I ain’t that bad. You should go to sleep, I won’t try anything. ” She looked skeptical but nodded. Still tense she went to sleep. A few minutes later she was fast asleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * line break * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was nearing sunrise when Lysandra woke up. She groaned a little as she sat up and started fixing her clothes.

“ You actually slept like a kitten.” I commented.

“What’s it to you?” She said. Getting brave now, are we? Guess last night’s little chat broke the ice. I fished around my jacket and pulled out a chocolate and handed it to her. She took it hesistantly. A fine specimen that I nicked on the way here. Munching on the chocolate she asked with a raised eyebrow, ”You like chocolates?”

“Who doesn’t?” I shrugged. She looked at me for a long moment.

“Who are you? My name’s Ly-”

“I know who you are ‘sandra. Anyway I’m someone who’s going to be a regular for you, so better get prepared. And for name...name’s Carter Roschild.” Her eyes widened as she recognised the name. I smirked at her reaction.

“Look tired on the way out, would you?” I fixed my clothes and took the wine bottle with me. “See you later kitten.” I said walking out of the door.

#throneofglass #throneofglassoneshots #oneshots #lysandra #arobynn hamel #sjmass #maasworld

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fionnlydarling · 5 years

Note

I’m living for the “get you a man who can do both” fionn post because that literally what I thought when I saw him show up to that event in a suit. AUGH he’s everything 😪💕 i can’t help but imagine going out with him when he wears something comfy and cozy and then another time when he’s all suited up. And then wearing his suit jacket or iconic brown jacket when it gets cold. Taking the underground and cuddling on the tube on the way home. Okay I’m done. Bye.

So this wasn’t a writing request but I just thought this ask was so cute I had to at least write some little Fionn x Reader imagines based on it! Apologies to the anon for not having replied to this ask earlier, I just wanted to hold onto it in my inbox so I wouldn’t forget about it! Hope this makes up for it ✨

It’s a chilly day and you and Fionn have spent literally all day on the couch curled up in a blanket watching Netflix, but you’ve only been half-watching. You can’t be expected to focus on whatever show is on when Fionn’s tracing his lips against your collarbone.

It’s getting late though and you’ve been up for hours and neither one of you have had breakfast so you drag yourselves to the kitchen but there’s not much in the way of decent ingredients in the fridge.

So Fionn invites you to breakfast, though really it’s lunch at this point and you both bundle up. You throw on Fionn’s yellow raincoat and Fionn goes for his trusty Carhartt jacket and your lips curl up into a knowing smile.

“Not a word,” Fionn warns playfully and you burst out laughing. Even though it’s years old and literally has torn seams in one of the pockets, Fionn loves that jacket and still can’t bear to part with it.

After breakfast you know you need to do the shopping and other errands and you’re not expecting Fionn to tag along. You know he has that play premier he has to go to tonight and you try assuring him that you’re fine going alone but Fionn’s insisting he wants to go and that he’ll have plenty of time to head back to the flat to change before the play.

It’s odd how these moments that should be sort of mundane feel almost idyllic whenever you’re with Fionn. It shouldn’t be fun running errands but it doesn’t feel like a chore when Fionn’s there. It should be boring strolling through every aisle trying to find the best sales for fruits and vegetables this week, but you don’t mind it when Fionn’s at your side, his hand brushing against yours.

The light’s dwindling and Fionn suggests treating yourselves to ice cream. You’re laughing because it’s too cold for ice cream and warn him that he’s wasting time but he wraps his arms around you and kisses you right below your ear, murmuring against your skin that time with you is never time wasted. It’s freezing but your face warms and so you roll your eyes and let Fionn drag you to Gelupo.

By the time you’re both done with your ice cream there really isn’t any time for Fionn to get back to the flat, change, and get to the play in time. You’re starting to suspect that Fionn chose Gelupo because it’s only a short walk from Trafalgar Studios.

“You’ll do anything to avoid wearing a suit,” you lecture playfully, shaking your head at Fionn. “You didn’t even wash your hair this morning.”

“Tonights for everyone in the play, no one will care,” Fionn insists and you shake your head amusedly. Fionn’s hair isn’t exactly greasy yet but you take your beanie off and reach up to put onto Fionn’s head, just in case.

As you do that Fionn leans forward to steal a kiss and you smile into it. He’s just so warm and cute and yours and you can’t help it if your hands wrap around his neck, the kiss deepening as Fionn wraps his own arms around your waist.

“You’re going to make me late to this premiere,” Fionn murmurs against your lips when you’ve parted for a breath. Your jaw drops, “Me? I’m going to make you late?”

Fionn laughs and and kisses your cheek, “I’ll see you tonight.”

You watch him go, shaking your head but there’s a smile stained on your lips.

A few days later and you’re both in bed, in those drowsy between awake and asleep.

You’re already more awake than he is, Fionn always having been harder to wake than you. Fionn on his belly, head turned towards you, eyes still closed, breathing in slow and deep.

Your heart’s full, just staring at him like this. Having one of those moments where everything is still and it’s just you and Fionn and not believing how unbelievably lucky you are to have him in your life.

It’s getting late though, so you reach out and gently brush his dark curls from his face, a happy hum vibrating off Fionn as he stirs awake, lips curling into a soft smile at your touch even as his eyes remain closed.

“You’re going to be late,” you warn him teasingly and his smile immediately turning into a groan.

Fionn whining, his face contorting into a grimace and turning his head into the pillow so his voice is muffled when he says he doesn’t care if he’s late.

You laughing, reaching out to trace circles on his shoulder-blade. Part of you wanting to be an enabler and stay cuddled up in bed with Fionn, but one of you has to be the voice of reason. So you remind him, again, of just how amazing Bandersnatch was and what it’s been doing for his career and that he owes it to Charlie and Annabel to be there because Bandersnatch is being nominated for an award.

Fionn knows you’re right. He just doesn’t want to deal with formality and charade of it all or all the small talk or having to talk to interviewers.

“And Will will be there, so that’ll make it fun at least. You haven’t been able to see him in a while.”

“That’s true,” Fionn says quietly, turning his head so his voice isn’t muffled anymore. Him sighing and meeting your gaze, nose wrinkling unhappily, “But I have to wear a suit.”

Laughter bubbling out of your throat even as you roll your eyes.

“Come on,” you say before smiling mischievously. “How about we save some time, take a shower together.”

That piques Fionn’s interest, and suddenly he can’t get out of bed fast enough. Your laugh turns into a squeal as he races to you, picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom where your shower takes a lot longer than it would have if you’d showered separately.

Fionn attends the BPG Awards as planned and literally attends only the bare minimum amount of time required of him to be there. He can’t even be bothered to stay for the after-party and instead texts you asking if you fancy going out for a late dinner at that Indian place you both like.

You roll your eyes but quickly throw on a dress before catching a cab.

You wait outside the restaurant on the pavement, leaning against a light pole for him when you finally see Fionn come around the corner.

You ask how it was and Fionn just shrugs, reaching out to play with the fabric of your dress right over your waist, stepping close and it amazes you that being so near him like this still makes your heart skip as if it were your first date again.

“Wow,” you say and when he tilts his head you smile, teasing, “You know your Carhartt jacket has a special place in my heart babe but I’ve got to say, you clean up so good in a suit.”

Fionn snorts but you can see how his cheekbones tinge pink and you have to bite on your lip to keep from grinning too wide.

Fionn laughs leaning in close, catching your lips with his and you just take a moment to sigh happily into the kiss, your hand reaching up to stroke his jaw. Neither one of you are much for public displays of affection and your in the middle of London for all to see, but for just a few moments you can’t be bothered to care.

It’s many moments before you break the kiss and still Fionn stays close, nose brushing against yours, just revelling in the closeness second before finally stepping into the restaurant, hand in hand.

Dinner’s delicious and you’re both so engaged in conversation with each other you stay until closing. Fionn tells you about the event, how they won the award they were nominated for and how he’d missed hanging out with Will and he’d had a good time. You try not to gloat that you were right.

Leaving the restaurant you’re so full you don’t want even want to walk the short distance to the underground and it’s a bit chillier than you thought it would be, but Fionn notices you shivering. Without a word he’s dropping his suit jacket over your shoulders and it’s a small gesture but it has you blushing and smiling to yourself the whole rest of the way.

The tube’s pretty empty this late at night. Fionn plops down on a seat, raising his arm for you. You don’t skip a beat tucking yourself into his shoulder and Fionn pulls you close.

Fionn’s free hand reaches out to hold one of yours, his thumb stroking the skin of your palm and it’s so soothing you’re half ready to take a quick power nap right then and there.

“So you had a nice night then?” you ask sleepily in an effort not to fall asleep. Fionn shrugs, “It was a nice night. I was much more looking forward to this though.” Your heart swoops and you tilt your chin up to look at Fionn who’s gazing down at you and you can see that he means what he said.

It’s been a long evening and you’re tired, but in that good kind of way. You’re wondering when you guys started making this work, juggling your life and Fionn’s life and still making time for each other, but somehow you have. As you smile at Fionn you can feel your gaze soften for him because you know inside that it’s worked because you and Fionn work, together.

Fionn smiles and leans forward to press a hot kiss against the side of your neck that makes your heart stir and you press yourself closer to him. It’s been a lovely evening.

#Fionn Whitehead #Fionnly Darling #Fionn x Reader #Fionn Whitehead x Reader #Fionn Whitehead imagine #Fionn Whitehead fanfiction #Bandersnatch

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akvtsuki-ari · 6 years

Text

Babyboy

Warnings; Smut, Sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader, Light Humiliation, Soft Orgasm Denial, Toys

Length; 3.9k

Authors Note; tbh this a vent fic its been running through my mind for the longest. hope u enjoy.

Summer was always an interesting time for Spencer and you. Hot days and cool nights mixed in with his trips away to wherever he needed to be, summer could be so draining.

Spencer was really a tough one, and with that you loved him with all your heart m and admired his ability to persevere when he needed too, if not for his ability to maintain his cool and compartmentalize, for his capabilities in being an attentive partner. Even with his sort of docile personality towards you, soft and forgiving, he was strong in ways that differed from physically, and you admired him in a way you couldn't fully explain. in the same breath you just happened to admire Reid, everything about him was admirable to you. But the things he did in his day today while still coming home to you and try to focus on you made your heart thunder with love and affection. And summer made your favorite man rather drained.

And every super hero has an alter ego, even yours. And who spencer was when he wasn't surrounded by people who kept him on his toes, but with you, alone in a dimly lit apartment made your heart do something it's never done before. Spencer's was loving always and gentle most of the time, he just liked to exist in the same space as you, and he loved in a way only a genius could, as humanly as possible. He'd misunderstood you at times, but remembered the most important things. He showed love through thoughtfulness and giving.

But Doctor Reid, had these moments that made you blush with how adorable they were. Where he'd lay his head in your chest and pout at you, or whine at times where most men would just stay silent instead of... react like him. And you'd always catch that little blush that ran across his cheeks when he'd slip, when he did what you asked him to a little too eagerly, or you used a certain tone of voice to get him to do something for you even if he didn't want to.

Yes you're sweet precious boyfriend was indefinitely submissive and was terribly unaware of your ability to see it.

Spencer had told you before that he wasn't Vanilla, and being dominated was something a lot of boyfriends you had were into. You weren't surprised and you definitely didn't not enjoy it, but there was something missing in what spencer had told you, denying that you'd ever be into or you'd even be disgusted. It took you a while to put the pieces together, but finally you'd made them click. You supposed that Spencer assumed that you were a sub and that alone, but you were a switch through and through. And this new information made life interesting for a long while, so long that you believed spencer would eventually figure it out himself, but ah your sweet genius was desperately unaware.

It was two whole months, two whole months of aching and teasing torture. Kissing him with your hands around his neck, and making him sit on your lap as a "joke," dressing him up in some of your clothes, and wearing right leather pants to the dinner party Rossi invited the two of you too. You had left little reminders too, hickies that littered his chest and thighs with the claim that you wanted to try something new but really only wanting to see what it did to him, subtly watching him run his fingers over them absentmindedly before getting flushed, he was such a pretty boy. And the part of you that wanted to make him a mess was soaking in all of his blissfully unaware need, but you were a good girlfriend, and your adorable boyfriend need not wait much longer.

It was once again, a desperately hot summer, but Spence had only been running some errands. Mostly to get ice to put infront of the fans since the ac was broken. You're sitting on the counter, eating icecream when the sweet sound of the door unlocking catches your attention, and there your beautiful boyfriend is, in shorts and a short sleeved shirt. He looks handsome.

"Hey Y/N," he greets. Walking himself to the countertop infront of you, you lean forward and give him a kiss which he gladly accepts, kissing back with ferver.

"Hey, Spence," you reply. You watch him as he walks to the fridge, smiling lovingly since his presence reminded you of how much you missed him. He seems to be looking for something but you're unsure what.

"Need something?," you asked, curiously. His head pulls out of the fridge and he frowns, "looking for something cold, eating something cold decreases the overall temperature of the body by 14 percent if done consistently," he replies, absentmindedly. You smile at his unaware demeanor

"You want some icecream spence?" You ask. He smiles his goofy smile at you before nodding, goin to get a spoon so you could split it. But a very bright idea pops into your head and you smile a bit wickedly

"No, no come here. Lemme feed you," you suggest, watching his demeanor. He freezes for a split second and you know you've won something, though you're not quite sure what yet. He replies quick as to not seem suspicious and says "That seems kind of odd, why not just let me use a spoon? I have perfectly good hands," he counters. You shrug, "I want to, you'd look cute."

He frowns again "Cute?"

"Cute," you say softly. He sighs defeated and walks over to you, opening his mouth. You shake your head at him and he squints.

"That's not how you feed someone spence, they have to close their eyes and you gotta guide them, you know. Making sure they get fed properly," you say blankly.

"I didn't know there was a proper way to feed someone, I think my way works just fine," he rebuttals as the frustration in his voice. You smile and shake your head

"Nuh-uh. We gotta do this the right way, now come here. And close your eyes. " you say. With a little slump and sigh he walks to you sluggishly.

And this is where your genius plan comes to play.

With your non dominant hand you grip Spencer's face, thumb on one side , cupping his jaw, with the other four finger padded softly sitting on his skin. With a soft amount of pressure you brough him down to you, you could feel his temperature increase at eaxh second you didn't speak. With your spoon in your opposite hand, you bring it up to his lips.

"Say ah," you demand gently. With not even a moments hesitation he opens his mouths. You take this moment to tilt his head back just a bit, and slowly place the cold spoon to his lips, with a very soft slide into his mouth he places the icecream onto his tongues. He's so deeply flustered; he hasn't even opened his eyes. If he wasn't already a wreck you'd make him one quick.

"Good boy," you said softly. And it was at the moment Spencer did what may have been the best thing he could've in that moment. Oh yes Spencer Reid, moaned. A whiny, high pitched, and breathy moan and by god was it beautiful.

All bets were off, and as your in a rather distracted state let loose of him for a bit, Spencer made an attempt to floor it. Bu you wouldn't let that slide so easy, you couldn't. Something inside of you switched on and you were determined to hear that utterly beautiful sound again. You're house wasn't huge but you did have to chase him into the hallway after finding him behind the couch, in which he again bolted. You pushed him and you up against the wall. He tried to move away but seemed to shy to do just that.

"Did you just moan after I called you Good boy, Doctor Reid," you ask with smooth sultry. You look at him expecting embarrassment and a smile, but instead are greeted with a rather sad looking boy. You back down and look up at him. As he avoids your eyes.

"What's Wrong Spence?" You ask.

"I don't know, didn't totally just embarrass myself in an unreedamable way.." he comments quietly. You realized that Spencer really believes that you'll think it's gross or in some way wrong that he likes submitting to you. You pout.

"Hey, look at me," you demand quietly. With sad eyes he does; and you smile.

"For a genius you're reallly pretty inept sometimes," you say. He raises and eyebrow and you chuckle at him.

"I like it, sweets. I like when you submit to me, and by some magic you haven't noticed that I've been trying to break you for two months. To see this, you know," you reassure him. He smiles a bit, not as sad and looks at you.

With a soft smile, you stand on your tippy toes and kiss him, a soft and gentle kiss. A hand on his neck bringing him down to you level. And you felt a great amount of comfort in the way he melted under your fingertips, it was then you felt him softly put away all his worries and just be with you.

"Now, since we've established all this mess. I want you to let me do this okay, lemme take care of you baby, that's all I want," you say, voice smooth as silk. You hold his hand and lean down, and with a soft nod Spence mumbles a yes. Part of you doesn't have patience, the part of you that's been aching to do this deciding there just isn't enough time. So you don't wait, you lead him, and like the submissive little angel he was he follows in suit, shyly and nervously smiling.

"Sit baby, cmere," you told, and patiently he sits, nervous was the only thing he could muster to be. He was flustered, and your eyes on him made him hot, you had an almost vindictive look. Borderline sadistic, or fully considering how long you'd watch him patiently suffer for you. It was a mocking in your eyes, and if there was one thing he could read easily was the kind of joy you pulled on watching. He could just see this side of you, a side he never dreamed of seeing.

You smiled at him. A mocking in your attitude, you lean forward and put a hand on his neck, a soft reminder of your control over him. Placing a kiss on his ear you whisper, "you're gonna sit there for patiently like the desperate submissive boy you are, while I grab something. You understand me, don't you Spence?" You ask, the grip on his neck getting tighter. He swallows thickly and nods, "Yes Miss," he responds. You smile.

"Good boy," you say. You go to the kitchen, and open up the drawers, picking out the soft ropes you had left over from the theater performance the FBI had held for charity. It had quickly become apart of the miscallenous things drawer, which would now be handy.

Picking it up and running it between your fingers, you carry it back with you. Spencer eyes you, an excited fear forming in his eyes.

"Get on your knees for me spencer, can you handle that?" You ask. He nods, sliding off the couch, perched up on his knees looking at you. You see his intimidation and decided you should give him some space and comfort, so you get on your knees infront of him.

"Take off your shirt baby, lemme see you." You announce, and with no comment he does. A soft blush on his face as he looks away, you make a small tsk noise.

"Eyes up, let me look at you. I wanna see your face," you say. He looks a little terrified in a good way. You smile back at him.

"Yes, Miss," a breathy whimper, already sounding a little broken for you.

"Good boy, hands out for me," you instruct, he does just that for you, well aware of where this was headed. You start tying a knot to keep him still and whisper

"Now when I think you've earned it, you're going to touch me. But before that I'm gonna make a mess of you, okay baby? You're gonna give me all the control i need to do that aren't you?" You ask. Too many words caught up in his throat he simply gives you a nod, you let it slip sensing his anticipation.

"When you're feeling like it's too much, Red means stop, yellow means slow down, and green means go, do you understand?" You ask once again. He nods for you and you smile,

"You want me to let you touch me right babyboy?," you ask. With a pleading look and so much desire and lust seeping from his expression, he mutters a polite "yes, miss"

"Tongue out for me baby," you say. You could see how humiliated he was and you loved every second of it. He shyly did as you instructed, eyeing you taking off your shorts, a clear stain on your panties from all the tension that's built up.

"I'll take off the rest when you make me cum, you understand?" You ask. Nodding again, and obediently replying "Yes, miss," you stand in front of him. You position yourself over his tongue, and place your foot on the couch to steady. A hand softly plays in his hair, and with a sigh you watch him

"Be good for me baby, use your mouth like the good boy I know you are," you say. Slowly he lets his tongue out for you, embarrassment his clear in his shy gesture but the part of you that impatient, can't handle it. You tugged on his hair, the sensation made Spencer whimper, a sound you were sadly unfamiliar with. It was so pretty, he was so pretty.

"I know you can do better than that, cant you?" You pull him away look down on him, and he blinks, nodding his head. He flattens his tongue onto your clit again, not moving too much but allowing you to use him at your need and bid, you tug on his hair again with hesitation, and slowly start rocking your hips, assuming that was what he was asking for, and it was from the groan of approval that you knew you'd done what he wanted.

The feeling of control that laid so easily in your hands made you feel good, a kind of power that you weren't sure what you did to earn. His tongue was a soft sensation of your clit, inviting pressure that you gently grinned against, a steady back and forth. You could sense his desire to hold your thighs and do this himself but the lack of control is what made him want it, and at this point the feeling suffocating his shorts would kill him. Picking up the pace is what did it for you, rutting your hips while his tongue was out, with his hair tangled between your fingers, it was an understatement to say you were in control. You owned him in that moment, he belonged to you in all his desperation and humiliating sense of want and you almost found affection in that.

It was one more second before you'd cum, making a mess out of his face, it would trail down his lips and the taste of you would burn deeply into his memory in a way he wishes he didn't like as much he did. Pulling away and kneeling down, you stared at him, with a distasteful amount of affection, in gratitude you offer a kiss, a soft, teasing, and romantic one. Your tongue trailing his bottom lift to catch the taste of you, and you were pleased. A soft, "Good boy," was offered which only brought a smile to his face. The lust was tearing him apart as was obvious, and you decided a reward was in stakes.

"I'm gonna make you stand and help you strip, and you're gonna sit on the couch for me, understand?"

"Yes Miss," was muttered, and you smiled. You helped on to his own two feet, and pushed your body up against his, using your free hands to unzip and let loose his cock, which had clearly been aching, poor boy would've come undone with any friction at this rate but you couldn't let that happen. You pull the loose hairband off your wrist, and with a gentle touch, slid it down his shaft, making Spencer groan and whine, the noise was music to your ears.

"I'm gonna suck you off, you did good for me baby. But no touching, none yet," you whisper. Once again a whimper leaves his throat, and maybe it was the submission in him that made those pretty noises escape but you were drawn to every second of it, filled with you so much excitement that you wanted to unravel just to drown in it.

Allowing him to sit, you didn't hesitate taking him in your mouth. A slow and aching movement down his shaft, you felt the tip in the back of your throat and didn't hesitate, your tongue carefully placed on the underneath side of his cock, you can feel him pulsate in your mouth. Slowly but surely you settle on a soft and steady motion, picking up the pace before holding your mouth and letting him fuck into you, you made sure to look at him when he did. Struggle in his eyes, as he groaned with deep desperation and lust. You could give him what he wanted but not all of you wanted to.

Precum filled your mouth, and a loud and drawn out moan was slipped past the lips of your lovely boyfriend, it was a desperation of wanting to cum but not being able to, and you watched as he held it so desperately, almost painfully, but he'd been such a good boy, such a well behaved boy a reward was needed. With a soft pop, you wipe your mouth clean and give your pretty boy a smile, his breath ragged and uneven. You stand up, one knee steadied on the couch, his head level to your ches

"You did a good job, a really good for me baby. I'm gonna let you fuck me, and I'll let you touch me. You can take off my clothes, okay baby?" You instruct. Haze and cloudy thoughts cover his coherence and with a fucked out expression he responds yes. You take a risk and hit him lightly which he not only seems to enjoy, but brings him back to his sense. "Yes Miss,"

You smile, and kiss his forehead in reassurance, a hand on his face, "Red, Yellow, or Green?" you ask, making sure you knew what head space he was at after all that torture. He leaned into your touch and nuzzled muttering a gentle "Green,"

Again you kiss his forehead, and tell him to move his arms forward which he does, and something about the moment is romantic, he can feel his reward coming that he's earned and it settles in him a good feeling, a feeling of comfort and love. And you feel the same, love and comfort in your abilties to click and appeal to one another.

Slowly you untie him, and everything is soft and silent. Once his hands are free, he goes immediately to touch your thighs, his head is rested on your tummy and in that moment his desire to touch you is unmatched, you run his hands through his hair. His hands just softly grip onto your thighs and ass, a touch meant to remind him of how much he wants you. Working his way up to your waist he tugs at your shirt, which you take off for him. Swinging your other leg to be next his thigh, you grind yourself onto his cock, making him twitch and ache. You place hand around is neck, and another on his bare chest, leaving small nail indents from the grip. His breathing was stifled a bit from the sensation, you lean and whisper in his ear.

"Okay, I'm gonna cum one more time, and I'm gonna take the ring off, understand me baby?" You ask, as Spencer whines into your neck from the friction you put on his cock. He whispers with a raspy voice, a polite "Yes Miss," and without hesitation you position the tip to your enterance. Not even a second passes as heat and slick envelop Spencer making him moan out a raspy and aching "Please," and you feel full, comfortably and pleasurably full with him. You decided what needs to happen in a split second and with shakey breaths, you only relay a "Move,"

And Spencer is quick with his movement, gripping onto your thighs the two of you quickly fall into rhythm, he snaps into you and you in some kind of gratitude bury your face in his neck focusing on leaving marks, an emphasis on tonight. Though the harder and more roughly you do, his rhythm speeds and gets sloppier which only brings you closer. An energy and space the two of you share with each other.

You pull back feeling yourself being close to cumming again, rubbing your clit and letting out a string of yes, and good boys, only making Spencer in some way more grateful and more eager. He was so focused, and so so pretty. You came over him, and you felt his restraint as you did, his face buried into your shoulder, breathing heavy.

"You wanna finish in me baby?," you ask, he nods into you. Usually you didn't let him, despite being on the pill you desperately wanted to be careful but you liked when he did and decided it would be the best reward for all his good behavior.

Slipping off, you slowly slide the ring off and you know he could cum right there from something as simple as a hand job, but instead you slip him back in, and kissing his forehead bounce up and down. You kiss his neck and play with his nipples, and he groans out. You speed up feeling how on edge he is.

"Cum for miss baby, be a good boy and cum for me," You mutter. And within the same breath he does just that, shooting inside you and letting out a long, long strained moan,

"Ah, fuck - Miss please," Was let out but the please was to nothing in particular, just the silence and desperation of all of it that went away. All soft and slow and moving.

You both sit there for a while, a long and soft while. he's still in you and his head is just resting, your cooing at him, a soft shh.

"You did such a good job, I'm so proud of you. We can go take a shower together okay baby? And we can watch a documentary and eat something together? Order some take out? How does that sound," You ask

"Sounds good Y/N..." he replies shyly.

You pick up his face with your hands and smile at him, and he smiles back shyly. A soft and gentle kiss on his lips.

"My good boy," you reply. He smiles even bigger and looks to you, "Yes Miss,"

What a pretty boy indeed, your pretty boy.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler #smut #genre: smut

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amememightywarrior · 6 years

Text

[fanfic] The Echo, chapter 2

In which Ameme spends a whole day in Coerthas running errands and discovering she’s crazy.

Trigger warnings: needless slaughter of wildlife, really terrible art

I awoke the next morning to the soft noises of chocobos scratching at the straw in their stalls. I rolled over and grimaced as the sharp ends of the straw pile serving as my bed poked me in the cheek. The thick fur blanket I had found among my supplies covered my body completely, and once I poked my fingers out of its safety, I was inclined to keep it that way. It was absolutely freezing outside.

“Kweh! Kweh!” cried one of the chocobos.

A soft male voice addressed it with amusement. “You're awake, I take it? Shh, there are people sleeping in the barn still...”

I scootched the blanket's edge around until I could see. Adventurer lodging was the best in Camp Dragonhead: the loft area in the stables. We got the softest straw—there was only one softness—and it was surprisingly warm, but I could still see my breath as I peered into the early morning gloom. I was at the edge of the loft, so I could see a silver-haired Elezen man stroking the head of the only black chocobo there. If I had to guess, the man must have been the lord in charge of the camp, Haurchefant. His voice seemed much lower, though. Soothing, really. I watched sleepily as he fed the chocobo a treat, saddled it, and walked it out of the barn. Morning ride, I thought.

Goobbue rolled over with a sigh. “Wish he'd talk like that all the time,” she said. “Can you imagine that voice in your ear—”

“Thal's balls, Goobbue, shut up,” Essenta groused. “Soluvrain not paying you enough attention or something?”

There was a grunt at the other end of the loft. Soluvrain evidently did not think much of that comment. Goobbue said, “A girl can appreciate a nice voice, that's all I'm saying!”

“Sounds more like you're about to start trying to climb the wrong tree, if you know what I mean.”

“Essenta...”

Essenta threw her thin pillow at Goobbue. “Don't Essenta me! Oi, Ameme. Word to the wise: Don't even try to touch any of the Ishgardians round here. If they don't think you're some exotic animal, then they've got enough baggage to sink a barge. Lord Haurchefant's no exception. He might act like yer the most delightful thing he's ever seen, but that's as far as you'll want to get. Trust me, it ain't worth it.”

The floorboards creaked as Moonlight River sat up. “All right, that's enough listening to girl talk,” he said. “Breakfast and morning exercises, anyone? That'll be the warmest we'll be 'til lunch time.”

I couldn't have agreed more, since I had next to no interest in anyone that way even if that was allegedly the entire reason I had traveled back in time. With much yawning, I got dressed under my blanket. One of my sleeves was home to a guest. Midgardsormr nearly gave me a heart attack when he chomped on my fingers as I stuck my arm through. I shoved him out the other end and judged him silently with my eyes. He huffed and faded from view. My fingers throbbed. He'd left a neat arc of red indentations, the little bastard, but at least he hadn't broken skin. The thick hem of my sleeves hid my fingers easily enough. I left the warm refuge of my blanket and packed all my things neatly to stow in the corner. The others were gone by the time I finished getting dressed.

The chocobos warked at me in a friendly fashion as I slid down the ladder. They were a well-trained bunch, these birds, but they were slightly intimidating as a group just because most were meant for Elezen riders. They towered over me. The two at the end of the row were the absolute sweetest birds, though. They put their heads over the stall doors for beak rubs and I obliged.

I wandered around Camp Dragonhead in confusion after breakfast until I spotted several late knights running into what I had dubbed the strategy room, where the lord's desk sat. I followed them and found the room filled with shirtless men and women wearing thin cotton tabards to preserve modesty. My adventuring compatriots were similarly clad and shivering. It looked like every single knight on day shift was in here.

“Ameme!” Goobbue called, waving at me. “C'mere! We're about to get started. You might want to ditch the fur.”

As I shed my warmest layers, Haurchefant bounded into the room. I could almost feel the enthusiasm radiating off him as he pulled off his haubergeon. “Attention!” he shouted. The knights snapped upright and saluted him in unison. The adventurers were rather more lackadaisical about it. I stood there like a dope. Goobbue nudged me until I clumsily copied everyone else. Haurchefant took no notice. “Good morn to all of you!” he said. “I've the most delightful tidings! The latest shipment of coffee beans has arrived and a fresh batch of coffee is brewing as we speak.” He beamed as the knights made pleased noises. “Of course, nothing wakes the body up more than exercise,” he added. “Squats, three sets!”

I didn't know what a set was, so I decided to just copy Goobbue until she stopped. Haurchefant joined the ranks of the knights with great excitement. Since I was just behind the end of the knights, he ended up in front of me. I found myself staring at his back muscles as he swung his arms back and forth. It was a good thing he had a thick skirt on, otherwise I would've also been staring at his ass, too. That would've been inappropriate and not a little weird.

Goobbue completed her squats and shook her arms out. I stretched my legs. Haurchefant called out, “Sit-ups, three sets!” And once those were done: “Push-ups, three sets!” I was starting to feel a bit toasty. That was when Haurchefant threw a surprise my way. “Dragoon squats, ten of them!” he called cheerily.

“Ten!” groaned Essenta. “You tyrant! I thought these were warm-ups, not kill-me-before-dawn-ups!”

“Essenta, my friend, 'tis after dawn,” Haurchefant said, turning to face us. “Ameme, have you ever done dragoon squats? They are as follows.” He dropped to the floor for a push-up, jumped to his feet, and did a leap combined with a phantom spear throw. “That's one.”

I had figured they would be more difficult. I did the ten, with Haurchefant happily following along and saying things like 'Splendid jump!' and 'If I didn't know better, I would think you were a master of the lance!' He was the only one other than me who was not too out of breath to speak after ten dragoon squats. It was hard for me to tell if his praise was genuine or just shameless flattery. He was just so over the top about everything, you know?

“Take a break,” he said when everyone was done. “Is it not invigorating to start off the morning sweating?!”

Essenta muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath.

“Rather than our usual ending routine, I thought I'd try something different,” Haurchefant said. “Ser Moiroix! Have you not learnt a new dance during your last leave? Come teach us!”

The singled-out knight groaned. “My lord, did I not also mention I was terrible at it?”

“Then you must needs practice,” said Haurchefant. “After all, dexterity of the feet is as necessary to battle as a good, strong core! One cannot fight dragons if one constantly trips!”

Moiroix, red in the face, came to the front of the pack and clumsily tried to teach everyone some sort of stately ballroom dance. Haurchefant got on her case about incorrect footwork. I got a bad case of second-hand embarrassment. On the upside, I learned a new dance.

“You're from up north somewhere, aren't you?” Goobbue asked me, a bit too loudly. “Know any exotic dances?”

I cringed mentally as Haurchefant's head turned in my direction. “I don't know about exotic,” I said. “They're definitely not ballroom dances.”

“Let's see them!” she said.

“I don't remember them very well,” I said. Or at all, actually. I just remembered that I knew some dances. I didn't remember the dances themselves.

Haurchefant rescued me when he announced, “Warm-ups are over! Coffee is available in the mess hall.” He bounded over to me, looking like he'd already had at least three cups of coffee. “Ameme! 'Tis your first full day with us. I pray you slept well! Adventurers report to Ser Hourlinet, in case you were unaware, but should you ever run into any urgent issues, pray come to me directly.” He paused, looking me up and down. “Your armor is highly unusual,” he said.

I looked down at myself. I had chain leggings and plated boots of an intricate design. My gloves were colorful and feathered. Hell if I knew where they came from. “I pick up pieces here and there,” I said. “From the fallen bodies of my enemies, usually.” I held my arms up to show the feathered gloves. “This...was a gift from some crafters.” Maybe. I couldn't recall much.

“Fascinating!” he said. “Well, I know the top to be in the style of the skyraiders. The boots are most unusual and I cannot place them.” He pointed at my legs. “These, though, appear to be Ishgardian knight's trousers.”

This was a pop quiz I did not like. I touched the chain part of the leggings and tried to remember.

—The keep was frozen over, its halls patrolled by ice sprites and the living dead. I stood in the corner with a torn journal page in hand, reading the sorrow of a man who no longer wanted to see his children for shame of what he had become. In the corner, I found a chest full of spare equipment. My own had been shredded in my fights with the keep's undead residents—

“Found these at an abandoned outpost in a chest,” I said. “It was...haunted. By zombies.” I shuddered.

“Forgive me, it seems I have dredged up a bad memory,” said Haurchefant. “I pray the boots are less horrific in origin!”

I raised an eyebrow at him. He was grilling me in the most friendly fashion, and no wonder. My outfit must have made him highly suspicious. I angled one foot so he could look at the intricate design. Where were these from...? Hmm...ahh. “I snuck into a Garlean outpost for food and stole someone's boots,” I said. “I used the rest of her outfit, too, but returned everything else.”

Haurchefant stooped to study them. “These are Garlean?” he asked with some surprise. “They're most unusual, then. Quite beautiful, really.”

“I think the Empire's armor designers were inspired by the things they found in the Far East,” I said. “That was where I was when I got these.”

“The Far East!! My friend, you are truly well-traveled! I should like to hear of your adventures one day!” He straightened and regarded me with a warm smile. “In fact, why don't you—”

“Seigneur Haurchefant!” called someone from the other side of the room.

Haurchefant, still talking, turned to see who wanted his attention. “—join me some time for lunch—Oui, Inquisiteur?”

A woman in long white and blue robes waved at him. “Avec moi, s'il vous-plait!”

“Un moment, madame! Pardon me, ladies, but it seems duty calls. I pray your day goes well!” He gave us a courtly bow and strode away to the inquisitor to see what she wanted.

Goobbue, Essenta, and I exchanged glances. Essenta said, “You are now the prime exotic animal, shipped in from the Far East.”

“Essenta!” Goobbue scolded. “Really! Just because Lord Haurchefant likes hearing stories...” She turned to me. “Did you really steal your boots from an Imperial soldier?”

“Thought it was a good idea at the time, but then again I was starving,” I said with a shrug. “They don't feed their soldiers very well, either.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Not a surprise. They're all savages over there. All right, let's report to Ser Hourlinet.”

She and Essenta headed for a man in a yellow overcoat surrounded by adventurers. Hourlinet was the efficient sort, I could see. He had everyone's tasks scheduled in a neat little grid, including mine. Goobbue was runner for the day – she grimaced at this, since it meant a lot of travel – while Essenta got assigned to guard some porters. Soluvrain and Moonlight River got firewood duty. As for me, someone had creatively tasked me with 'ridding the immediate area of nuisance creatures', which meant feral crocs. That was my only task all day.

“Are you sure she should do that alone?” Moonlight River asked. “Mayhap Soluvrain could—”

“Given what I have seen her do, she is likely more than equal to this task,” Hourlinet said. “Now, with the storm strengthening, I would suggest we all set about our respective tasks with alacrity.” He turned to the rest of the adventurers.

“I don't think the pay's worth your life,” Moonlight River said to me. “Say the word and I'll come help.”

“It's fine,” I said. “I'll see you later.” I headed out. Time to get a real warm-up.

~*~

I stood over the latest carcass, panting hard. Blood dripped off the blade of my axe slowly, already beginning to freeze mere seconds after its forcible extraction from the vessel. Feeling oddly out of sorts, I scooped up handfuls of snow and began cleaning everything. The space around me turned pink. Only when I glanced idly at the dead wolf did I notice the sunset had turned the snow orange.

Have I been out here all day? I wondered. Best head back. I'm hungry...I think.

My killing spree had ended at the top of a hill. I gazed down at the trail of death and destruction I had left with a bit of a sick feeling in my stomach. “Midgardsormr,” I said, “how long have I been out here?”

The tip of one wing brushed my cheek as my dragonet companion dropped onto my shoulder. «Sunrise to sunset,» he said. «Oft didst thou lose thyself to excess bloodshed in the end. That thou hast returned to thyself in the span of a single sun is a great improvement. Come, let us return to the sons of Ishgard. The native fauna has been terrorized enough for one day.»

“I...yes, that's a good idea,” I said, struck by both my apparent ability to kill mindlessly for hours and Midgardsormr thinking this was better than before. “I'm really broken, aren't I? I thought coming back fixed me. This is not normal!”

«To heal will take time,» he replied. «To rewind time for a single mortal is miracle enough without asking for that which broke the world to be fixed without recompense. Go, champion. They will not mind a little blood.»

I spent a few more minutes cleaning my boots and furs before heeding his command. The knights I passed greeted me with raised hands and bobbing heads. The sun was long gone when I reached the gates of Camp Dragonhead.

“There you are!” said the guard. “We wondered if you had met an untimely demise in the jaws of a croc. Report to Ser Hourlinet, if you will. You might find some leftover food if you're nice to Medguistl.”

I thanked him and trudged through the courtyard. The knights regularly shoveled inside the outpost, which was a blessing because it meant I wasn't tracking pink snow for all to see. Of course, the number of people outside now that the temperature was now well below zero was close to zilch anyway. Lighted windows and torches showed me the way through the central arch.

The sound of someone beating the stuffing out of a training dummy distracted me from my pensive march. I veered off course to investigate. The training area held only a single torch, leaving half the area in shadow. I saw long silver hair gleaming in the firelight, bouncing to and fro. As I drew close, I could make out the body attached to the hair. It was an Elezen man, and one who could jump absurdly high at that. I watched as he vaulted into the air, stretched to his full length, and hurled a black spear at the training dummy. The thin blade pierced the heart of the dummy with ease. The man landed practically on top of it, ripped his spear out, and did a few graceful spins. Then, with a full grasp on the mechanics of coolness, he twirled the spear to rest the butt on the ground in an at-ease position.

“Eavesdroppers and spies shall be taken as new training dummies,” he said, not turning around.

I blinked and looked from side to side. Who...? Oh, he was talking to me. Well, that was rude! I frowned at his back.

He turned to glare at me. His eyes were surprisingly dark for an Elezen of Ishgardian birth. His hair could have used a trim. What might have once been bangs now brushed his nose and even in the dark of night I could see his split ends were out of control. He hmphed at me, his glare acquiring a contemptuous air. “A coin-starved adventurer, back from her errand,” he said. “Hardly worth the trouble. Run along, girl, unless you want to take on my lance.”

That was even ruder! I wasn't a girl, I was a woman! And his lance wasn't even that impressive! More importantly, something about him was very, very familiar.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with me. Rather than keep talking, he spun his lance and leapt high into the air. Like a diving falcon, he aimed for my heart.

Oh, so he's serious about using me as a dummy, I thought.

Curious, I chose to block his attack rather than dodge. His lance was sturdier than it looked and his reaction time was excellent. The blade did not break when it glanced off my axe. The man landed with one foot on the flat of my blade and used it to propel himself out of reach. Unsurprisingly, his landing was as light as a butterfly despite the ice and snow covering the ground.

He hummed thoughtfully, swinging his weapon out to the side to prepare his next move. “Interesting,” he said. “I take it you've volunteered to be my training dummy.” He darted forward. I dodged in the nick of time. Damn, he was fast when he decided to use those legs of his to cover distance rather than altitude. I blocked several of his graceful sweeping blows easily and tried to figure out his fighting style. He wore light chainmail and no head cover, but as I studied him, I discovered he had absolutely no openings. The only time he opened himself up even a sliver was at the very top of his massive jumps, and there was no way I would be able to reach him up there.

He found me to be a tough opponent, too. All of his strikes had become cautious after that first attack, mostly aimed testing my defenses. The main issue for him was that his style had massive telegraphs due to the length of his weapon and the constant grip adjustments he had to do. Yes, it would hurt if he made contact...but he would have to get through my axe first.

I redirected my attention to his feet. Maybe if I...ohhh, yes, that was a good plan...although I was banking on him not knowing any hand-to-hand techniques and that he wasn't seriously planning on killing me...

He tried to skewer me again, this time with more intent than before. I twisted my hips to the side, just barely avoiding both the lance blade and the secondary winglike blade on one side. He was just within arms' length now. Maybe he thought he had me, because I could see him smirking and the muscles of his body bracing to pull the lance backwards. I slammed my axe vertically into the dirt. The handle locked the lance up by way of the winglike blade.

Ah. So he was actually trying to kill me. Good to know. I released my axe and put one hand on his wrist. His smirk turned to surprise as I ducked under his arms and slammed my fist into his gut. Not exactly the brightest move—the guy had abs of steel under the chainmail—but it took him surprise. He sort of bent over, either in reaction or just to keep track of me, and transferred to a one-handed grip on his lance. I cheerfully dragoon-jumped my head right into his chin. He made a bitten-off noise of surprise and reared back. Then, because he was a seasoned fighter, he adapted to the sudden close quarters by trying to punch me in the head. I ducked. The sound of metal scraping metal alerted me to the fact that he had slid his lance up to get it off my axe handle. I darted away and retrieved my weapon once he had backed up. We watched each other guardedly.

“You don't fight on the ground much, do you?” I asked when he made no move to attack again.

He snorted. “No. Mayhap I will after this, if only to spar with you again.”

I growled at him. “Is it sparring when you're actively trying to skewer me?”

The man found this hilarious. He let the tip of his lance drop as he laughed heartily. “That last move was a bit much considering your armor,” he said. “I would apologize, but as the bruise on my jaw will attest, you can more than hold your own in such situations.”

“Luckily for you.”

“Indeed, though given our earlier dancing, I suspected your level of skill was far higher than I previously assumed.” He waved a finger at the sky as Elezen were wont to do when they wanted to emphasize something. “I would end our sparring match here, my lady, as there are places I must be ere the morrow. First, though, I would have your name. 'Tisn't often I come across an opponent such as yourself.”

I decided he was a little on the weird side, as far as Ishgardians went. “Ameme,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Estinien,” he replied. “I shall remember your name, Ameme.” He gave me a curt nod, strapped his lance to his back, and jumped his crazy ass over the wall of the outpost without another word.

What the hell was that? I asked myself. If that was the guy I'd come back to save...I would have to tell myself I had terrible taste in men.

“Ameme!”

I jumped at the fluting male voice behind me. Haurchefant came striding across the courtyard. Some part of me relaxed when I saw him. “Hello, I'm back,” I said when he arrived in front of me.

“Yes, so I see,” he said. “When you did not report back by lunch, I confess Ser Hourlinet grew rather worried. Where have you been?”

I pointed vaguely in the direction of my activities. “I was killing feral crocs as assigned,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “All day?”

“Oh, no,” I said. “I ran out of crocs, you see...so I started on the wolves...I think there may have been some ice sprites, too.” I noticed my fingers getting fidgety with my axe handle and stilled them.

“Ah,” said Haurchefant. “And upon your return, you chose to get into a fight with the Azure Dragoon?”

I stared at him, wondering if I was about to get in trouble.

He sucked in a breath. “Ameme...”

“I'm sorry,” I said. “I was just watching him beat up the training dummy and he decided that meant I wanted to fight.”

Haurchefant laughed. “Oh, that is no surprise,” he said. “The Azure Dragoon is, shall we say...not a sociable sort of man.” He shook his head. “No, that is not what I wanted to say. Ameme! You are magnificent!”

I stared some more. Was that code for me being in trouble?

“To think, you were hard at work all day ridding the land of dangerous beasts, only to return and go axe-to-lance with the Azure Dragoon! And with such grace! I've never seen aught like it! You are truly, exceptionally strong, with unbelievable stamina!” He gestured excitedly as he spoke.

“Ah,” I said, blinking.

He picked up on my confusion and abruptly calmed himself. “After all that work, you must certainly be hungry,” he said. “I have taken the liberty of asking Medguistl to prepare a late dinner for you. Pray partake of it and take tomorrow off to rest. Come!” He led me to the kitchens and spent the entire time I waited for food recounting what he had seen and asking questions about this or that technique.

“What's an Azure Dragoon?” I asked when he managed to stop long enough to drink the orange juice Medguistl the chef gave him.

“Ah, I had forgotten you are new to the region,” Haurchefant said. “Pray forgive me. The Azure Dragoon is a title given to the strongest and wisest member of the order of dragoons. Among all Azure Dragoons past and present, Estinien Wyrmblood is considered exceptional.”

“He does jump pretty high,” I allowed. “So he just shows up to beat on training dummies?”

Haurchefant had a little laughing fit at the 'jumps pretty high' line. “I know not why he was here,” he said after recovering. “From what I have heard, the man comes and goes as he pleases. He has also thoroughly rejected Ishgardian high society, despite his status. I find him quite an interesting character, truth be told. I daresay you'll find him a far more difficult opponent should you fight him again. He is known for his ability to adapt to other fighting styles.”

Well, that was great. What if I didn't want to fight him again? But figuring out how to get the better of him had been pretty exciting, not to mention a far sight better than mindlessly killing animals.

“Is aught amiss?” Haurchefant asked, frowning. I shook my head. “Hmm. Yet you look as though something weighs heavily on your mind. Pray tell me. Did you not wish to fight the Azure Dragoon?”

“It's not that,” I said. To tell him, or...? I remembered Midgardsormr saying that healing took time. How did one heal unrelenting blood lust? “I just...lost time today.”

“How so?”

I looked away. “I remember what I was doing,” I said. “It's just that I...I lost track of myself all day...and all I did was kill...”

Haurchefant studied me silently. “I see,” he said. “Would you say this was a state of mind?”

I shrugged. “I stopped thinking, that was the problem. I don't want to do that kind of thing, but...” I waved a hand aimlessly. “I shouldn't be doing that. It's not normal. I'm not just a killing machine or a weapon. I'm a person. I...” Who was I talking to? It wasn't Haurchefant. “I'm a person,” I finished, feeling stupid.

Haurchefant reached across the table to grip my hand. “Forgive me for being too forward, but I must speak my thoughts,” he said. “Ameme. You are neither killing machine nor weapon. Though slaying those beasts has helped us, I would rather you put your considerable skills to use in ways that do not make you think you are nothing more than a tool. To that end, I shall ensure Ser Hourlinet assigns you more peaceful tasks.”

“I'll do them,” I said. “Someone has to go around killing things. It may as well be me since I'm so good at it.”

“I will not hear of it,” Haurchefant said. “Ameme, you are not a tool! You are a person, splendid fighter though you are. Now, finish this excellent meal and go to bed. Tomorrow you will have no assignments. Pray use that time to gather your thoughts and realize you are more than the sum of what you kill.” He patted my knuckles and released my hand.

Haurchefant is a nice guy, but he definitely doesn't know me, I thought. Fighting was all I did. Nothing he said would change that.

...but...

Maybe he was right, in a way. Maybe I could do more than just fight. No, I would do more than just fight. I had to if I wanted to stay sane. I would become the person he imagined I was.

“Let us speak of less serious things,” Haurchefant said. “Tell me more of your adventures in the Far East! I would not dare to imagine I know much of the world past Eorzea.”

“I didn't spend much time there,” I said a bit nervously. What was I supposed to tell him? I didn't remember.

“But surely you were there long enough to know something of the food!” he said.

Oh gods...what did I eat over there? Sushi? “Raw fish on rice,” I said.

“What?!”

“There was a lot of sea food...”

He leaned forward, fascinated. The more I talked, the more I remembered the little details. I even recalled climbing onto curved roofs and running around a port town, as well as being yelled at by men in yukata for doing so. It was a struggle to describe yukata to someone who had never seen them, but Haurchefant was somehow enthusiastic about the idea anyway.

Anyway, it was very nice chatting with someone who just wanted to hear stories. He was a busy man, so I also appreciated the amount of time he took just to talk to me. When I was finished eating, he thanked me for sharing my experiences and bade me good night before rushing off to do something or other—he mentioned reports—and leaving me all by my lonesome. I made sure to thank Medguistl for the food before I dragged myself to the chocobo stables for the night.

#fanfic #ffxiv #writing #maybe I should work on getting the rest of it written #naaaaaah who'd do something like that

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vickisventures · 4 years

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Fall to Winter

Fargo Botanical Gardens

Traill County Historical Area right by our campground

Brr...we went from fall to winter in no time! I knew it was a possibility as far north as we are. We are only 1:45 hours from the Canadian border if that tells you anything. Still I didn’t expect the phone message I got this morning. I think I’ve mentioned several times what a backwards campground we are staying at; somebody compared it to living in Mayberry. A lot is lacking here in administration! The call said that due to freezing temperatures tonight, they were turning off the water this afternoon. I was out walking the dog when the call came in, so I didn’t realize I had a message until around 11 a.m. I was in the middle of making cookies and doing laundry. I called the park manager back and asked what time and she said it depended on when the person she’d hired to do the job showed up. I was a bit panicked. We were given 2 options, stay on our current site and not have water for the next week and 1/2 or move to another spot where they would be leaving the water on. It would have been nice if someone had explained that to us when we chose our site upon arrival! Thankfully, Steve answered his phone when I called him (he’s not supposed to when he’s working) and told me how to fill the tank with water to buy us some time. We will now have water to flush toilets and wash dishes for a while. When he gets back from work, we can figure out if we want to move to another site or stay here. The sites that will have water are all backed up to the interstate, so not exactly quiet spots. But I think they are expecting freezing temperatures from now until the day we leave so I’m not sure what good it will do for us to move. Problem is the water I put in the tank today won’t last us a week and ½, we will need to refill it! This is just the one of the joys of RV living. With a house, you have the fear of freezing pipes but this not quite the same. Our RV is designed to withstand freezing temperatures but it’s hard to live without running water, especially when I’m used to it. I didn’t choose this lifestyle to rough it! But I guess that means I’ll be doing my laundry next week in the laundry room where they only have 1 washer working. I, luckily, got all of my loads done today before they turned the water off (nice to have so much warning!) Most of the RV’s have pulled out of here. The harvest workers all left earlier this week because the work was done. Due to the good weather, they made quick work of it. There are some RV’s parked on “interstate row” but the phone call sent everyone else packing. I think I’ll get my share of winter in the next couple of weeks and will really appreciate Arizona when we get there.

After reading several posts on Facebook about convection ovens, I decided to try mine. I have a microwave/convection oven. I have no experience with convection ovens so I was scared to try it, but people were saying that they prefer using it over their regular ovens. Mine still makes me crazy with the temperature fluctuations and doing other weird things so I figured, what did I have to lose? I started with a batch of pumpkin (tis the season) chocolate chip cookies and you know what, it was a whole lot less stressful than using my oven. There’s a learning curve to using the convection oven but I think I’ll try some pumpkin muffins next...

Update: Steve came in from work and asked if I was ready to move. Huh? Apparently as he was working, he’d decided we should move to another site which was fine...I just didn’t know. So, we quickly got everything ready so we could pull the slides in and disconnect and drove the 200 feet to our new site. We got set up pretty quickly. Due to the closeness of the interstate, it is even noisier than I’d feared. Glad we are only going to be here a little while longer. Also, the water froze last night even with our heated hose (it got down to 29) and so we are waiting for it to warm up and thaw so we can come up with a new plan for tonight. It won’t be any warmer tonight or the next night or the next...So I’m not sure this site is much better except that we can refill our reserve tank with water for our remaining time, when and if it’s not frozen. So, for now that means quick showers and smart usage of water and no using my washing machine. (I did see a van yesterday hopefully repairing the washers and dryers in the laundry room so that’s a plus.)

We celebrated our anniversary in 2 parts. Thursday night we went to Grand Forks to the Toasted Frog for dinner. It was a quaint little spot in the downtown area. The food was good, the dessert even better. Then Friday, since Steve was off, we drove to Fargo. They have a small botanical garden there that is free so we went there first. It was pretty small. They had something there they call the edible garden and in it they have planted all sorts of edible things, everything from gooseberries to blackberries to pecan trees. It appears to be fairly new because a lot of the plants are a ways from bearing “fruit.” They also had a children’s garden where they had the letters A-Z in small sections and they had planted various plants starting with each letter. It was a nice day and we enjoyed walking around the gardens. Then we went to the mall and ran some other errands ending the day getting ice cream at Culvers.

It’ll all be about the weather from here on out. The 10-day forecast has several days with a chance of a frozen mix with highs between 35 and 43. But hey, 10 days and we are heading south!

#full time rving

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mistressofmuses · 6 years

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Holiday Special

“We have a holiday special running,” chirped the barista at the register. “If you get one of our peppermint mochas, a second one is only a dollar!”

Brenden wrinkled his nose in disgust before he even thought about it. “Er, no thanks. Does the special apply to a regular mocha?”

“Sorry, no, just the seasonal peppermint.”

“Okay, I’ll get a medium regular mocha.”

“We have peppermint stir sticks for only fifty cents.”

“No thank you. I’m just not a big fan of peppermint.”

He paid for his drink, and went to wait at the bar and look out over the café. It was crowded, with no unoccupied tables. He sighed. He didn’t have class for another hour, and no way did he want to wait outside in this awful below-freezing weather.

The man who’d been behind him in line came up next to him at the bar. Judging by the line of cups on the counter in back, they’d both be waiting for a while.

“I thought it was just me,” the other man said.

Brenden glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, assuming the other man was on the phone or something. More than once he’d acknowledged some comment from a stranger only to get a weird look and belatedly realize they had a Bluetooth receiver clipped to their ear. This stranger was cute, dressed for the weather, yet looking like he’d stepped out of a fashion spread, with a black wool coat perfectly tailored to him, and red scarf artfully draped over his shoulders. Definitely the type who might have an earpiece.

“That disliked peppermint, I mean,” The stranger clarified. “This time of year is practically torture.”

“Oh,” Brenden replied, blinking. “Yeah, it’s all but unavoidable, isn’t it?”

“Tell me about it,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Suddenly everything has to have a candy cane in it. Perfectly self-respecting mochas, brownies, sugar cookies, ice cream, for heaven’s sake. All of them suddenly adulterated with peppermint.”

Brenden laughed.

“I’m Ryan, by the way,” the other man stuck a hand out.

Brenden took it. Ryan’s hand was warmer than his. “Brenden,” he introduced himself.

“Come to this coffee shop often?” Ryan asked, brushing his bangs to the side.

“Not real often,” Brenden said. “Just when the bus schedule and my classes don’t sync up quite right. It’s a nice spot to kill a few minutes out of the cold. My classes don’t start until 3:00 today.”

“Ah, you’re a student?” Ryan asked. “I’ve been thinking about maybe taking a few classes. I wanted to take a year off after high school, but then I got a job, and a year turned into, well, a lot more than that.”

Ryan certainly didn’t look like he’d been out of high school “a lot more than” a year. He looked about Ryan’s age, just an extremely well-put-together twenty instead of a self-described-disaster twenty. Must have been a damn good job he’d gotten.

“Regular mocha!” a barista called out, setting the drink on the counter.

A second barista almost immediately called out, “Cinnamon latte, extra whip!” and set that one down next to Brenden’s mocha.

Ryan picked up the cinnamon latte and then gestured to a table across the room. “Look, a table opened up. We could grab it before anyone else swoops in.”

“Er, sure,” Brenden said, picking up his mocha and following Ryan to the table. It made sense to share the table, considering how packed the café still was. Sharing with someone you’d at least said ‘hi’ to was a bit better than having to ask a complete stranger if you could sit next to them.

Brenden set his bag and his coat on the other empty chair at the table, not wanting them to touch the ground, which had snowmelt all over it. He prepared to dig out a book to read to pass the time.

But to his surprise, Ryan didn’t immediately pull out his phone or a book of his own or something else to pay attention to. He had a notebook with him, but he just set it down. Instead he looked at Brenden and asked, “So what are you studying in your classes? Let me guess… business major, maybe?”

“Nothing so practical, I’m afraid…” And then Brenden was explaining his weird decision to major in literature and minor in both anthropology and world history. “It’s awful!” he said with a laugh. “I know I’m condemning myself to a future of teaching, but I can’t help it, because I love the subjects so much, I just keep adding more classes.”

“Isn’t that a good thing, then?” Ryan asked. “If you love the subjects, you’re the one who should be teaching them, don’t you think? Your far-off-future students will be glad for a little enthusiasm.”

Ryan brushed his bangs to the side again, and took a sip of his latte. He was clearly waiting for Brenden to reply, and Brenden found himself a little tongue-tied. He was used to people—strangers, acquaintances, and friends alike—seeming almost disappointed in him for his choices. Usually this was the point in a conversation where he said something self-deprecating, or laughed about how impractical he was being.

“I guess I never really gave it that much thought,” Brenden admitted. “Everyone just tells me that that’s what I’m doing—condemning myself to being unsuited for anything except teaching—like it’s a bad thing, so I just sort of resigned myself to it. Not many people rushing to hire lit majors for anything else.”

“I mean, if you hate the idea of teaching, of course you should aim for something else, but don’t let some snide jerk convince you that it’s a terrible fate. You love the subjects; teaching other people to love them too doesn’t sound like the worst thing to me.”

“That’s a fair point,” Brenden said. And it was. He really had been thinking of teaching as something he was going to somehow be forced into, like a sad fallback plan, as if it wasn’t a worthy goal in and of itself. When his high-end event-planning brother and his environmental scientist sister sighed and shook their heads at him, he’d just accepted that he was the flighty slacker sibling.

He shook his head and broke out of his thoughts. “How about you?” he asked Ryan, acutely aware that he’d been the topic of conversation for far too long at this point. “You come to this café often?”

The alarm on Brenden’s phone went off, alerting him that he had twenty-five minutes until class started, and he needed to get going. He tapped the snooze button, buying himself an extra three minutes.

“Not really,” Ryan answered. “It was just a whim today. I’m usually not even over in this part of town. I just had an errand, and was really craving some caffeine. Glad I did.”

“Yeah, this café is pretty good,” Brenden said. “Outrageous number of peppermint holiday specials aside.”

Ryan smiled and took another sip of his latte. “At least peppermint season isn’t forever. Did you have to go?” He glanced pointedly at Brenden’s phone.

“Nah, I’m good for a few more minutes,” he said. Then Ryan wrote something in his notebook, and he worried that Ryan had been trying to hint to him that they should part ways. His brain struggled to find something else to ask Ryan to justify those extra few minutes. “So if you were going to go to school for something, what classes would you take?”

Ryan laughed and tore out the page he’d written on. “Oh, probably something wildly impractical, like literature.”

Brenden laughed along with him.

“Maybe you could tutor me,” Ryan said, grinning. “Since I’m a few years out of practice with academics.”

“It’d give me some practice for my inevitable teaching career,” Brenden said, stroking his chin in mock-thoughtfulness.

His snoozed alarm lit his phone back up, as it rang and vibrated across the table. He sighed, genuinely regretting that he had to break off the conversation. Ryan was nice to talk to, and just unfairly attractive. It wasn’t the kind of opportunity that Brenden had every day. “I really do have to get going,” he said apologetically, swiping the alarm off. “Or I’ll be late.” 22 minutes would already be cutting it close.

“No problem. I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time,” Ryan said. “It was good to talk to you.” Ryan stood up too, and handed Brenden his coat.

“Thanks. I hope you do decide to take some classes.”

“Thank you. And I hope you have good luck with yours.”

As Brenden rushed out into the cold outside air, he jammed his hands into his pockets. It was a shame he was unlikely to see Ryan again, since he admitted that he was never on this end of town.

His fingers brushed a folded piece of paper, which didn’t feel like a receipt. He pulled it out, and read the note below the phone number written on it.

I was hoping you’d ask for my number, but you didn’t take the hint, and I’m giving it to you anyway. Read between the lines, lit-major! And call me sometime. –Ryan

@yourbookcouldbegayer

Prompt was: "Your characters meet at a coffee shop and bond over their shared hatred of peppermint flavored drinks. When they leave, one of the characters is pretty sure they’ll never see the other person again, but guess whose number they find in their pocket?”

Managed to get this one done mostly in the morning before work! It’s another meet-cute, kinda like day 1, but since I never get to write purely fluffy things like this, I enjoyed indulging in it. Even though I love peppermint.

#day5ofgay #lgbtq+ fiction #genre: slice of life #rating: pg #gay character #my writing #short fiction #original fiction #holigays 2017

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