#and i caught it on tv so it was back to the time honored tradition of watching a show for the first time 3 episodes into the 2nd season

[hyraeth]

How did it take me this long to find out there's a show about a real estate agency that specializes in haunted houses

#the name gave it away and I immediately knew I had to watch it #surreal estate #come on that's a great name #and i caught it on tv so it was back to the time honored tradition of watching a show for the first time 3 episodes into the 2nd season #and ofc there's no way for me to watch the first episodes here #unless you know #yo ho all together hoist the colours high

[nexysworld]

Summary: While away on a business trip, your hybrid boyfriend decides to surprise you upon your return home. Pairing: Hybrid!Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, use of sex toys, pussy eating, hybrid smut

Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Ask Box

A/N: I dedicate this one shot to Kenny @dollfacefantasy. She's the best, you should check out her writing, without her inspiration this one shot wouldn't have been possible. Love you Kenken!!

Honorable mentions to @explorevenus, @kaitkatme, and @gigabyte-flare for supporting my work and being awesome too! Also @ghostkennedy and @tosuckmyweenis <3

For the longest time a hybrid hadn’t been something you considered getting, but recently having to relocate for work, you found yourself often feeling lonely hauled up in your apartment each night. Toying with the idea of a traditional pet, it just didn’t seem like the exact type of companionship you were looking for –  you needed something more. The concept of a hybrid was just so strange to you though, they were sentient, capable of nearly all things people were, but spliced with animals to aid in things like companionship and work. 

There’d been a lot of back and forth in the media between whether or not hybrids were ethical to begin with in addition to if adopting them was even morally correct as well. It was something you hadn’t put much thought into until you stumbled into the local shelter one day, peering around. 

The best way to describe it was like a jail– if each cell was its own little apartment. The cement walls and flooring, along with the barred doors were very reminiscent of a traditional shelter, but inside each room were individual hybrids with their own little decorated room. As you walked by, most ran up to you, tails wagging, excitement written on their face as they shouted greetings at you. 

Puppy hybrids with their tails wagging like helicopters, cats with their ears twitching eyes narrowing as you passed them – even bunnies bouncing up and down at the prospect of an owner. As adorable as it was, none of them really caught your eye, at least not enough to commit to taking home. 

Close to the end of the fluorescently lit hallway, you found what you almost thought was an empty kennel until your eye caught the glimpse of someone sitting in the corner. He was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, sky blue eyes, a face framed by fluffy blonde hair. The bomber jacket he wore suited him so well. “Leon, huh?” You asked, after peering over at the informational plaque on the wall. 

The sound of your voice caught his attention as he shot you a weak smile in return. “Uh yeah, that’s me alright.” “I like that name.” Glancing back over to the plaque you could see that he previously worked for the government, was well behaved, and was good at adapting. “Leon, how would you feel about coming home with me?” His cool demeanor didn’t change, but you could see the shocked written on his face, there only for a second before his iced it back over with his neutral expression. “Are you for real?” “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

Hesitantly, he made his way over to the bars that separated you two, tilting his head to the side he looked you up and down processing for a moment. Finally a smirk came over his plush lips. “If you’re sure, I’d be happy to keep you company.” 

***************

That was three years ago. 

Since then Leon had become more than a close companion to you. His corny jokes and dry sense of humor lived rent free in your head any moment you were away from home. Loneliness was a thing of the past when you could curl up with him on the couch and fall asleep to the ambient sound of the tv playing in the background.  Leon had opened himself up to you as well, explaining that unlike most hybrids he wasn’t born this way. Several years back he had to escape from a place called Raccoon City after a massive bio disaster occurred – you’d never even heard of that place before, but the seriousness in his voice had silenced any questions or lingering doubt. After said incident, was when he was forced into a government program, trained to be a federal agent. Once his contract was over with, he could no longer return to a regular human-lived life, the shelter was the only other option.  His story made your heart ache, but you settled on being content with the idea of finally being able to provide him with a happy home filled with love and relaxation.

At some point, not that you could remember when exactly, your relationship had changed. There was an unspoken tension that neither of you dared act on, until it built and built into a volcanic level eruption between you. One bad day at work was all it took for him to have you bent over the couch, rutting into your wet folds with abandon as you cried his name out, desperately clawing at the furniture beneath you. Suffice it to say, Leon became your companion in more ways than one. 

***************

The moment the front door swung open you nearly tackled him to the ground in a hug. “God I’ve missed you, Lee.” “Missed you too baby.” He said with a chuckle, wrapping you into a tight hug. It’d only been a week, but that business trip had lasted far too long in your opinion. The only saving grace was you managed to get back to town just in time for your official one year anniversary of dating.

Finally letting go of him, you stood back and gasped once you really got a good look at him. “Lee where’s your–?” He cut off your question with a deep kiss, pulling away before pressing another to your cheek. “Shhh baby, no questions yet. Not when I have a present for you.” 

You wanted to protest but the excitement in his eyes prevented you from doing anything but following him down the hall, now laced with pink and red flower petals, to the bedroom. Excitement flurried around your stomach as you barely contained your giddiness. 

The bedroom was dimly lit and the scents of lavender and vanilla wafted into your nose, the bedding had been swapped out for a satiny red set. In the dead center was a heart shaped box, a huge bow on the top. 

Leon stepped out of the way so you could move forward. “Go on, open it.” 

Hesitantly you pulled one end of the ribbon undoing the bow, carefully pulling the lid off. By now you could feel Leon’s hot breath on your neck as his hands came up around you, cupping your breasts through your shirt. “Faster baby, I wanna see you get to the good part.”

“Ok, ok!” You exclaimed shuddering under his touch, wetness already forming a spot in your panties. Parting the tissue paper inside the box, there it was an ivory colored dildo. Confusion hit you first as you gently picked it up. It looked exactly like Leon’s, from the thick shaft even down to the shape of the balls, decorative swirls and designs were carved into it, giving it a ribbed texture. The material wasn’t something you recognized initially, as the outward coating made it feel like glass, until it hit you. “Leon… is this?” “Sure is.” He replied nuzzling into your neck again, sucking a bruise into the skin. The feeling of his whiskers always sent delightful tingles down your spine. “Didn’t want you to have to miss me while you’re away anymore.” 

“But your tusks?” “They grow back.” He said nonchalantly, turning you to face him. “What do you think? I carved it myself.” “Lee, it’s beautiful…god I can’t wait to try it out.” “Why wait?” A devious smirk came to his lips as he pushed you back onto the bed. “Wanna see you enjoy your present.” Leaning on top of you he brought his lips to yours one more time before sitting up to yank your bottoms down, pulling your panties along with them. 

He wasted no time in yanking you towards him, legs tossed over his shoulders as he dove into you like it was the first meal he’s had since you’d been away – lapping a line through your soaked folds. The thick whiskers tickled at your thighs, making you squirm against his flattened tongue, the mix of pleasure and tingles making you whine. “There we go baby, so wet and ready.”  He pressed a teasing kiss to your clit before pulling back just enough to reach over and grab the tusky dildo from you clenched hand. He held it against your folds, running it up and down, swirling the tip over your clit making you jolt as firecrackers of pleasure sparked from your core to your fingertips. 

He slid it into your hole slowly, careful to not hurt you and to allow you to feel each ribbed indentation before it was bottomed out to the base. “That’s it baby, that’s my good girl.” He cooed, pumping it in and out of your hot little pussy setting a rhythmic pace. He marveled at the way your back arched and head tossed back before he returned to lapping his tongue over your clit, in tandem with the movement of the present in his hand.  The overwhelming sense of pleasure coupled with your neediness for him made you grasp at his blonde locks to ground yourself. Toes curling with the oncoming orgasm that was so close, you choked out a cry, tight walls clenching around the porcelain coated tusk buried in you. It was a sensation like no other, and soon the pressure that built up exploded – white splotches filled your vision and your legs shook as pleasure consumed you in waves. Little aftershocks tickled along your skin, nerves a livewire.

He left the toy inside of you as he began to kiss his way up, first your thighs then your hip, before planning a kiss to your tummy. This time the feeling of his whiskers pulling a giggle out of you between panted attempts at returning your breathing to normal. Stopping for a moment only at your chest, he gripped your shirt that he’d pushed up before lapping at one pebbled nipple, sucking it gently into his mouth.

He pulled off with a pop capturing your lips once more in a tender kiss. “Happy anniversary baby.”  “Happy anniversary.” You replied, bringing your thumb up to rub over the spot where his tusks had been shaved down. The skin surrounding the ivory mounds was soft, leaving only the flattened discs of where his tusks used to be. Leaning up you gave him a kiss on his flattened nose. “My handsome little Walrus.”

#Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x you #Leon Kennedy x y/n #Leon s kennedy #Leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #hybrid!leon #hybrid leon kennedy #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #Leon Kennedy fanfiction

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

2.1 the beginning of the end

warnings : betrayal, monster attack... more or less, allie gets a little angry, probs some cussing

word count : 4.8k

2.1 The Completed Prophecy Brings Forth a New Set of Challenges and Stress

We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke's own quest, so of course, everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Luke's shroud was metallic white and emerald green, with a pair of winged sneakers on the front. It gave off a weird reptilian scent while it burned.

Being the daughter of Poseidon, I didn't have any cabin mates, so my friends had all volunteered to work together to make my shroud. It was absolutely beautiful, made of long sea green silk and embroidered with a golden trident. Silena cried in dismay when we burned it, though for the rest of us it was fun to burn them, in a very morbid kind of way. Like I was sticking up my finger at everyone who thought I would fail in quest, including myself.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, I was surrounded by all of my friends and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get herself killed and now she'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday..."

I moved all of my stuff from home into cabin three, but it didn't feel so lonely anymore. My car was parked right on the road near Camp Half-Blood. At first, Chiron didn't want it out there, just in case a monster or something got to it, but I convinced him I didn't care if it got damaged and if it was inside camp borders the Stoll Brothers would probably do much more damage than a monster. 

I had my friends to hang with during the day, and Luke regularly snuck into my room to sleep in my bed with me. Though, I would be shocked if Chiron didn't know he'd been doing it since we got back. At first, it wasn't every night, but every so often one of us would get a nightmare and he'd be knocking at my door. When he realized that he couldn't always just guess whenever I'd have a nightmare and also couldn't just sneak into the Hermes cabin, we'd silently decided to make it an every night thing. We'd gotten used to being together during our quest, so being apart was weird. I got up at five every morning, anyway, so it's not like anyone ever caught us.

I spoke with Chiron, and agreed to stay year-round, but I would have permission to go on little trips outside. Apparently, it was an allowance given to children of Poseidon, as otherwise, we tended to go stir-crazy and run away after destroying something. So, while I would live mostly at camp, I would be able to leave and go to Columbia on the days I had to and I'd get to visit my East Hampton beach house whenever I wanted since it was only half an hour away.

As much as I loved Camp, it was still a huge relief to have that safety net available. I don't think I could cope with being in one place constantly, even this place.

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles.

According to Luke, who'd seen the show several times before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

As Luke and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks, he'd started to look older, almost collage age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his Rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said, shifting slightly. "I just came to say... well, you know."

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was one of my oldest real friends.

I gave him a tight hug and reminded him to keep his fake feet on, thinking of how they had fallen off on the train while Luke asked him where he was going to search first.

"Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan..."

"We understand," I assured him. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?" I pressed.

"Jeez, Allie," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway— nothing like the little runty boy I used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

"Well," he said with a small smile. "Wish me luck."

I gave him a tight hug. He and Luke clapped each other on the shoulders, then headed back through the dunes. I watched him go through misty eyes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," I called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going, I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Luke told me, pulling me into a side hug.

I tried to believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years... Well, I decided not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

The summer passed.

I spent my days in camp devising new strategies for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares' hands. Clarisse and I started a friendly, but vicious, rivalry over it. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava.

From time to time, I'd walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle. I tried to convince myself that its prophecy had come to completion.

You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

Been there, done that, got the t-shirt, even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades.

You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.

Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades' dark head.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend.

That line still bothered me. Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed me. That must have been what the Oracle meant even though it didn't quite fit...

And the last one.

And it shall begin, in the end.

Surely, it meant my fight with Ares? I wasn't arrogant enough to claim it was anything close to a war or anything of the sort, but I couldn't think of another option. The quest was over, so the prophecy should be complete. And Chiron had said that the Oracle's words often didn't make sense, anyway.

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

I got my own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer, I was glad the firelight covered my blushing. The design was a simple pitch black bead, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced, grinning at me cheekily. "This bead commemorates the first Daughter of the Sea God, and the quest that she undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year.

The next morning, I went to do some training and get myself out of the way while everyone was packing themselves into the camp shuttle. Of my friends, Luke, Silena, Beckendorf and the Stolls were all staying. Beckendorf's mother was dead, Silena only visited her father rarely for a reason she didn't share and I didn't push for, though she obviously adored him, and the Stolls' mother was a heavily devout Christian who kicked them out for 'converting to paganism.'

I had said goodbye to the others last night, and I didn't want to do so again and get upset at them leaving. Especially as my mind had continuously wandered to the fact that if Mom were still alive, I'd be leaving as well.

Instead, I lost myself in the rhythm of practice. Sword-fighting seemed as natural as breathing to me, and by the time a throat clearing interrupted me, I had decimated the training dummies completely. At least they'd be replaced in a few days anyway.

The person standing at the entrance to the arena shocked me.

"Annabeth," I stated in surprise, sweeping some loose hair out of my face and behind my ear again. "What— uh, did you want to do some training or something? I can go."

"No," she shook her head, stepping closer to me. "I actually wanted to talk to you. Bury the hatchet, you know? For Luke's sake."

That completely shocked me, but I was willing to go along with it if she was serious. I'd seen the unhappiness Luke felt at how Annabeth and I seemed to be constantly at odds with each other. Though, I had nothing to do with it, and everyone knew I just defended myself in whatever way was necessary.

"Sure," I agreed slowly. "Here, or—?"

She shook her head, gold curls bouncing. "No, here's not really the place for heart-to-hearts, you know? Follow me, I know a good place to talk."

I turned Riptide back into its necklace form and Shaker into bracelet form and trailed after her as we made our way to the creek and sat down near where I was almost mauled by that hellhound.

"You okay?" Annabeth asked with a look of innocence that was definitely fake on her face. Her eyes were too wide, and I suddenly wished that I could get my sword out more subtly. My instincts were screaming at me, and suddenly it just clicked.

The thief hadn't been found, only Ares and the Crooked Lord. And now I knew why the prophecy had been bothering me so much despite the quest being officially over. It wouldn't really be over until the thief was caught.

"You're the one who took the Bolt," I accused quietly. "Aren't you?"

She laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Well, well, maybe you're not such a seaweed brain after all. Yes, I took the stupid Bolt." Her expression twisted bitterly as she spoke. She didn't look at all like a twelve-year-old girl, and from the look in her eyes, I had no doubt that she wanted to kill me. "I saw a lot out there in the world, Allie," she said. "I ran away from my idiotic father and his wife and kids when I was seven and I saw the reality of the world. Didn't you feel it, the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics, being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

"You're psychotic," I scoffed back. "In case you haven't realized, without gods, there would be no demigods. It's in the damn word! We need each other!"

She glared, and I could tell that hadn't occurred to her before. Stupid, especially of a supposed child of the wisdom goddess, but I guess that wisdom and common sense don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

She clicked her fingers instead of answering. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.

I started to go for my necklace.

"I wouldn't," Annabeth warned me with a cruel smile. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"You're as crazy as Ares."

Her eyes flared violently. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Allie, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

The scorpion crawled onto my leg.

There had to be a way out of this. I needed time to think.

"Kronos," I stated. "That's who you serve."

The air got colder.

"You should be more careful with names," Annabeth warned me.

"Kronos," I put a lot of emphasis on his name, "got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams."

Annabeth's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Allie. You should have listened to him. You might have survived."

"He's brainwashing you, Annabeth. You'd think a child of the wisdom goddess would be able to see that."

"You're wrong!" Annabeth shrieked. "He showed me that my talents are being wasted. I've been here for years, since I was seven! I'm better at fighting and thinking than anyone else in this worthless camp, and yet I've never been allowed to leave except to visit my useless mortal father! It's not fair! I should've been given a quest! I'm better than all of them!"

"You're a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum," I spat back, furious. "And you're going to break Luke's heart!"

"Don't talk to me about Luke!" she snarled. "Do you know how he got that scar on his face? Hermes sent him to steal apples from the Garden of Hesperides, a quest that's been done already! Where's the glory in repeating what others have done? All the gods know how to do is replay their past. His heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden nearly killed him, and I knew I had to get justice for him and Thalia. They deserved better than what the gods gave them, the only truly good people in this world. Even Chiron is so blinded by the gods that there's no hope for him. He'd let us all die if they ordered it. He doesn't really care, he just pretends that he does. I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to strike– a worthwhile strike– against the gods, to take something that no hero had ever had the courage to take."

I shook my head and tried to interrupt, but she was on a roll, too in her own mind to listen to me. 

"When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I put on my cap and I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus' master bolt right from his chair. Hades' helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was, and I'm not even one of Hermes' children. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

The scorpion was sitting on my knee now, staring at me with its glittering eyes. I tried to keep my voice level, and to keep my worry hidden. "So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"

Annabeth's smile wavered. "I... I got overconfident. Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt, Artemis, Apollo, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have out-witted him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos' voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence."

Then she got such a haunted look on her face that I would've felt bad for her if she hadn't put me in the tough spot I was in— it was the same way I looked after a particularly bad confrontation with Gabe. 

"Afterward, the Lord of the Titans... h-he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way, from Ares down to Tartarus."

"You summoned the hellhound, that night in the forest."

"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for you, so he would start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."

"The backpack was cursed," I said. "It was supposed to drag me and the bolt into Tartarus."

"And it would have, if you'd been wearing it. But you gave it to Luke, which screwed everything up. Luke was never supposed to get hurt." Annabeth looked down at the scorpion, which was now sitting on my thigh. "You should have died in Tartarus, Allie. But don't worry, I'll leave you with my little friend to set things right."

"Thalia gave her life to save you," I said, gritting my teeth. "And this is how you repay her?"

"Don't talk about Thalia!" she shrieked. "The gods let her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."

"You're being used, Annabeth. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."

"I've been used?" Annabeth's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest, the ones who serve him."

"Call off the bug," I demanded. "If you're so strong, fight me yourself."

Annabeth smiled, a light of insanity in her gray eyes. "Nice try, Allie. But I'm not Ares. You can't bait me. My lord is waiting, and he's got plenty of quests for me to undertake."

"Annabeth—"

"Good-bye, Allie. There's a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it."

She turned and strode away, and I saw the silhouette of someone join her. 

For one horrifying second, I thought it was Luke. My heart dropped. 

It wasn't Luke. It was Cody. 

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend. 

The words echoed around my head like an alarm, bouncing around every part of my brain until I couldn't deny it anymore. I opened my mouth to say something to him, but he simply strode away after Annabeth. 

And there was nothing I could do to stop them, because the minute he turned, the scorpion lunged.

I swatted it away with my hand and summoned Riptide. The thing jumped at me and I cut it in half in mid-air.

I was about to go racing after the two traitors until I looked down at my hand. My palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck. The damn thing had gotten me after all. I always hated bugs.

My ears pounded. My vision went foggy. The water, I thought dizzily, hearing the noise of the creek nearby. It healed me before.

I stumbled to the creek and submerged my hand. It was working, but not fast enough. I'd be dead long before the water fully healed me. The poison was too strong. My vision was getting dark. I could barely stand up.

Sixty seconds, Annabeth had told me.

I had to get back to camp. If I collapsed out here, my body would be dinner for a monster. Nobody would ever know what had happened, they wouldn't know about Annabeth and Cody's treachery. They would be completely vulnerable to the two.

My legs felt like lead. My years of athletics kept my stamina going, just enough to keep me alive. My forehead was burning. I stumbled toward the camp, and the nymphs stirred from their trees.

"Help," I croaked. "Please..."

Two of them took my arms, pulling me along. I dimly remember making it to the clearing, a counselor shouting for help, Chiron blowing a conch horn urgently. Then everything went black.

I woke with a drinking straw in my mouth. I was sipping something that tasted like liquid chocolate-chip cookies. Nectar.

I opened my eyes and looked around weakly. I was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, my right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Luke sat next to me, holding my nectar glass and dabbing a washcloth on my forehead.

"Anyone else got deja vu?" I asked with a weak smile at him.

"That's not funny," Luke answered, looking shaky, the vein in his forehead popping. "You were bleeding from your eyes and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..."

"Now, now," Chiron's voice chided. "Allie's constitution deserves some of the credit for her survival. She ran through most of the forest with no help, while dying of poison."

He was sitting near the foot of my bed in human form, which was why I hadn't noticed him yet. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half was dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Between sips of nectar, I told them the story.

The room was quiet for a long time.

"We have to hunt them down," Luke said tightly. "I knew something was up when everyone was accounted for except for the two of them."

He was pushing his pain aside to focus on the problem at hand, but I could see the anguish in his eyes at his surrogate little sister's betrayal. Annabeth had been a mix of sister, daughter, and friend to him. I couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling right then.

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured in reply. "I will go at once."

"Zeus has declared the matter of Kronos closed," I pointed out tightly. "We need to do this ourselves, preferably before the Titans are walking the earth again!"

"Allie, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready."

I didn't like it, but I knew that Chiron was right. One look at my hand, and I knew I wasn't going to be sword fighting with both swords for at least a few days.

"Chiron... the prophecy, the one about the child of one of the Big Three... is it, I mean—"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Allie, it isn't my place—"

My eyes narrowed. "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great heroine, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..."

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Allie. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," I protested.

"We will not sit back," Chiron promised me. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long, you mean?" I spat scornfully. 

"You will," Luke promised darkly. "You're staying, aren't you? I'll make sure of it, Angel, I swear on the River Styx that I'll—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," I said threateningly. 

His expression didn't change and even though he didn't say it out loud, he finished it in his head. It wasn't a complete binding, but he didn't need that. 

"That would have been foolish," Chiron sighed tiredly. "Don't go around making promises like that, Luke, you know better. Rest now, both of you. I must go and speak to the gods."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to ask him more questions. But his expression told me there would be no more discussion; he had said as much as he could.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

I watched him leave, then turned to Luke. "Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Angel, that isn't a good idea."

I ignored him and slid my legs out of bed. Luke caught me before I could crumple to the floor. A wave of nausea rolled over me.

"I told you so," Luke grumbled, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and grasping my waist to support me.

"I'm fine," I insisted. I didn't want to lie in bed like an invalid while Annabeth and Cody were out there planning to destroy the Western world.

I managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on Luke. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance.

By the time we reached the porch, my face was beaded with sweat. My stomach had twisted into knots and I felt like I was going to faint. But I had managed to make it all the way to the railing.

It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the waters of Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.

"What are you going to do?" Luke asked me.

I shrugged helplessly at that. "I don't know." Without looking at him, I reached out to clasp his hand gently. "I'm sorry about Annabeth."

He swallowed loudly. "I am too," he muttered gruffly. 

We were quiet after that, and I pretended I didn't see the tears trickling down his face as he stared wistfully at Thalia's pine tree. I pulled him into a hug and though he was still very much so holding me up, in that moment, I was his lifeline.

We stayed like that until we went to bed at curfew. As we entered my cabin that night, I felt the pressure settle itself around my shoulders like I was suddenly carrying the weight of the world on them. A child of the Big Three would save or destroy the world. And I was the only open candidate for the position.

*    *    *

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SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS

#asaeato #a story as endless as the ocean #alliejackson #female percy jackson #lukecastellan #lullie #trinitymia

[thecagedsong]

Title: Can the Goddess Hear My Heart Over the Bells?

Theme: Bells

Fandom/Character(s): Legend of Zelda; Link/Zelda

Warnings (if applicable): N/A

Word Count: 5,818

@12daysofchristmas

Zelda comes from a long line of priestesses of Hylia, but in modern Hyrule she tries to hide the fact because people would find it embarrassing. Then her cute college classmate comes for the Midwinter worship with his sister, and Zelda still has to perform the bell dance, even with him watching.

~~~~~

 “Have a goodnight Zelda! And say hi to Link for me after your test tomorrow!” Mipha cheered for her, touching her arm gently before letting her go. Their paths usually diverged here and Zelda shot her a grateful smile, despite the teasing about Link. The Zora dove headfirst in the water while Zelda got on the bus.

Mipha didn’t have to wait at the bus stop for Zelda, especially since the Zora had difficulties with winter generally, but the girl had insisted. Once Zelda mentioned she didn’t like waiting for the bus alone, Mipha had insisted she wait with Zelda every day after their biology class.

Noticing a couple of people from her school were also on the bus, Zelda waited until they had all gotten off before getting off herself and doubling back to her home. Zelda named another number in the prime number sequence with each step up the ridiculous stairs to her family’s shrine.

At her door, Zelda took off her shoes and knelt before the small goddess statute there.

To the Goddess, I give praise for my family’s joy and safety, and thank her for wisdom and learning I am able to accumulate at university. I am honored by the protection She gives those I love, and ask for power to continue to keep them well. I am honored by the courage She grants me to face the cold winter and daunting university tests. May our blessings continue as we listen to her guidance and hold to our faith. Adimen.

Zelda stood up, stretched, and walked to where Father stirred a large pot of soup.

“Welcome home, Dear,” Dad said, “Destroy another test? Biology was today, right?”

“No more biology for the year,” Zelda said, grabbing a spoon to sample their dinner. “And just Hylian history to finish. Hmmm!” she hummed her delight at the dish and took another spoonful.

“You two turn into barbarians without me here? I set the table and everything, but clearly you’d both rather eat standing over the pot,” a new voice chimed in.

Zelda dropped her spoon in the soup as she spun around. “Mark!” she shrieked jumping forward with her arms out.  Her brother awkwardly caught her, but returned her hug. “You weren’t supposed to come home until this weekend!”

“I finished my final essay earlier than expected,” he said, letting her go. She gave him one last squeeze before sitting down at the table.

“So does that mean you’re all done with your degree?” Father asked, bringing the soup to the table.

“So long as I pass everything,” he said. “I’ll know first week of January if I'm going to lose my job offer, die under the mountain of my student loans, and have to sell my kidneys on the black market.”

Zelda snorted, “Like you know how to find the black market.”

“I’m sure you did fine,” Dad assured him.

“Dad, did you know? About Mark coming home early?”

“Not at all, a complete surprise. Good thing last weekend we converted his room back to his bedroom and took out the plasmascreen TV and billards table,” Dad joked.

“You did not,” Mark scoffed, serving everyone. He paused, “You didn’t, right?”

“Of course not,” Zelda said, indignantly, “The billiards table has always been in the garage, your room was my spa room. Ignore the nail polish stain on the pillows.”

“Brat,” he said affectionately.

 ~~~~

 “You don’t have to watch me practice, I know it must be boring,” Zelda said, letting him tie up the traditional headpiece. Impa, her assistant at the shrine, would do it during the actual ceremony.

“You know, I was always jealous of you,” Mark said, flicking a bell hanging from the elaborate crown. “Of the time you got to spend with Mom practicing for this. That you’re the special one in the family.”

“That’s silly, I was the one always jealous of you. You got to read books with Dad while I had to drill the same eight dances over and over again,” Zelda said, looking both of them over in the mirror. Sheika Tears were painted in red down her cheeks, while Hylia’s triforce repeated on her forehead and the headpiece, and the neckline of her white dress. “I had to fight to even be allowed to go to university instead of work at the shrine.”

“And you’ll fight to have a job and be the high priestess. And then you’ll do both amazingly well until you die. You have Hylian History tomorrow, so I know you are completely familiar with the amazing feats of all the Zeldas that have come before you,” Mark said. “Priestesses of Hylia and world-shakers at the same time.”

“Their feats were because they were princesses, no one bothered writing anything about them once they became priestesses,” she said. “It was because they were princesses that they could save the kingdom, unless you’re talking about all those goddess blessings the myths talk about. And I think I would know if I could do magic.”

Mark smiled in the mirror, “But I know my sister, and maybe you aren’t rewinding time or setting fire to Twilight, but you are going to be a Zelda for the history books, just wait.”

“You’re supposed to get less religious as you go away to university,” Zelda pointed out, “Realize the Gerudo lighting was simply channeled electricity, figure out that it’s impossible to resurrect someone from the dead so that they continue to be young and health after 100 years, that sort of thing.”

“Call me a rebel then,” Mark said, “Did that happen to you? Did university convince you our maternal bloodline is simply a bunch of really good story tellers?”

“Well . . .” Zelda shifted in her seat, not sure how to answer. Not sure of the answer. “At the very least, I shouldn’t have to be a priestess if there is no great incarnation of pure evil to vanquish. I should be able to spend all my time studying if I’m not going to be called upon to imprison the incarnation of darkness.”

“Now who’s being silly. You have perfect memory recall and have always grasped academic concepts, and their flaws, immediately,” Mark said. “You’re goddess-blessed with an impossibly big brain, so you have some spare time to practice the midwinter’s dance. But not that much time, ready?”

“Ready,” Zelda said, letting him help her up.

Her every step tinkled with the bells on her costume and from the bells in her hand. Mark seated himself out of the way and turned the lights to the way they would be at the ceremony.

Farore’s wind was the breath in her lungs, feeding the Din’s fire and electricity of her heart and brain, letting her movements be as smooth as Nayru’s water, until time beat against Nayru’s ice with bells. Hylia was the goddess gifted with guarding and wielding the powers of the Three, the one charged with seeing the Three’s creation prosper. By the fourth turn, Zelda let herself feel what it was to by Hylia’s mouthpiece and body.

Embarrassing as it was, Zelda’s faith hadn’t been shaken by her university education at all.

  ~~~~~~

Zelda finished with her test ridiculously early, there was still half the time left for her classmates to continue their furious scratching. She had filled the essay sections to the brim, then scribbled her conclusion paragraphs on the back of the papers, and had already edited them. But, not wanting to be known as the brainiac like she had been in high school, Zelda waited until she heard at least one other student stand up with their test in hand to do the same.

Of course that one student had to be Link Faron. Zelda really hoped she wasn’t blushing as she made her way down the stairs opposite him. He was Mipha’s childhood friend, and ridiculously attractive. He was shorter than her by an inch, she shouldn’t be this attracted to him, but she was, and,

Oh Hylia, he was waiting for her at the door.

Mipha had had a small crush on him since childhood, but Zelda had been interested since he helped retrieve her favorite pen when it fell during the second week of classes. She had been gone for him since he defended ecological conservation efforts as a decentralized local movement with respectful funding distribution as opposed to an oppressive authoritarian conservation for maximum resource output that was the current majority party favored ideology.

“Hi Link,” she said, her voice a pitch higher than it should be as she closed the door behind them. Zelda cleared her throat, “Hi Link. Was this your last final for the semester?”

It was the last day of finals before winter break, of course it was his last final. But hair escaped his ponytail as he shook his head, framing the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.

“I have a paper due at midnight,” he said casually, “I’m letting it sit for another couple hours before giving it a last revision and submitting it tonight. Was this your last one?”

“Yep, I’m free as a bird,” Zelda said.

“Cool . . . hey, do you want to grab lun—”

“Yes! I mean, sure,” Zelda said. “Sorry, I’m a little frazzled—from the test! I better have lunch and a small rest before trying to navigate public transit and heading home, haha.”

“Great,” Link said. “Anywhere you want to go to celebrate being done with your first semester of finals?”

“No particular preference, you?”

“No particular preference,” he mirrored her with a smile, but it wasn’t mocking, more like something he just wanted to try saying. “Since one of us has to make a decision, what about the Milk Bar?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, letting him change direction.

Things got quiet, but Zelda couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t school related, and it felt silly to talk about school related stuff when they were on the cusp of break and this was one of the few times in her life she didn’t want to talk about school or academics.

“So, any plans for the holidays?” Link asked.

Was he casually making conversation not about school, or was he trying to see if she was free to ask her on a date? She wasn’t prepared to be asked on a date! Mipha had a crush on him too, for years longer than Zelda, was she even allowed to say yes? What if he wanted to go out one of the nights she had to perform the ceremony? What if—

NO! Keep it cool. He wasn’t asking her out, he was making polite conversation. Be polite back.

“My brother attends Lorule University,” Zelda said, “He came back early, so we’re going to spend some time together while he’s home as a family. I’m going ice skating with Mipha at some point, but other than that I don’t have any definitive plans. What about you?”

“My dad travels around for the military, so my little sister Aryll is actually coming to visit me here in Castletown for Midwinters,” Link said. “Any recommendations on where to take her? I’ve been buried under school work and haven’t explored too much of the city myself.”

“What does Aryll like?” Zelda asked. “Is she into sculpture art like you? Because the Waker River Gardens is absolutely beautiful this time of year, but people don’t tend to go in Winter because of the cold.”

“How did you know I like statute art?” Link asked as they approached the restaurant.

“Oh, uh, Mipha mentioned it,” Zelda said, really hoping she wasn’t coming across as creepy. Curse her perfect memory. “She said that you were friends growing up, and you were majoring in art and teaching.” Wrong. He was double majoring in Art and History Education.

“I’m double majoring in Art and History Education,” Link corrected her with a smile. Zelda mentally patted herself on the back. “So a first year history course was a little easy for me. Hence finishing the test so early. I’m not sure which one I’m going to like more, art or history education, so I’m filling my schedule with both and letting fate take me. Are you majoring in history? You always had such good answers in class.”

“Nope, I’m a bio-chem major, this is just a GE credit,” Zelda said. “But my family has always been big on history, so it wasn’t a terribly challenging course for me either. But it was fun.”

They arrived at the Milk Bar and gave their orders before sitting down at a table.

“Is that why your parents named you ‘Zelda’?” Link asked, not seeing her flinch, “because they like history?”

Hylia, why could she only think of stupid answers? “It’s a family name” was stupid, “my name’s actually illegal because they never took the law off the books forbidding my family from naming their daughters ‘Zelda’ after the fall of the monarchy, isn’t that funny?” was worse. “Yes, because they loved the history that said I have to be named Zelda so any possible heroes of legend and/or incarnations of evil could find me and allow me to assist/confront them with my non-existent goddess-descendant powers,” was so far off the table she shouldn’t even be thinking it.

“Er, you don’t have to answer that,” Link said when her pause lasted a bit too long. “You must get that a lot, sorry. It was just a bit surreal to have Professor Rauru call upon ‘Miss Zelda’ for an in-depth analysis of historical interracial politics.”

“It’s okay, I did get it a lot,” Zelda admitted, “sorry for freaking out a little, spending middle school being called ‘Princess Zelda, Queen of Freaks’ still hits me sometimes.” Stupid! How did she manage to come up with a more embarrassing response than all the others. She rushed, “I mean, haha, I’m over it. It’s just a name. And I’m not the only one named after historical figures, Link, the Hero of Hyrule, so . . .” And it was getting worse, she couldn’t look away from her lap. Please cooperate mouth, “So . . . it’s not as unusual as you would think?”

Nope. Call it a day. Worst work she had ever put forth in a conversation. Only thing left was to leave awkwardly and hope they never cross paths again.

“Actually I think—”

“You’re right, sometimes parents do give us ridiculous names to live up to,” Link said, speaking over her. Zelda stopped reaching for her bag and looked up. He smiled gentle, his hands on the table, “Mom always says that my name came to her in a dream, and Dad was hoping I’d turn into a great warrior that would follow his footsteps into the military. He’s always groaned about how my name was wasted on an artist and aspiring teacher.”

“Link is the name of a peacemaker,” Zelda defended, leaning forward and staring him straight in the eye. “In times of chaos and strife, a peacemaker means being a warrior that protects those who wish to stop fighting from those that wont stop. The heroes of Links past were successful against evil because they pulled tools and philosophies and lessons and fighting styles from every people of Hyrule. In times of peace, to be a peacemaker means connecting people across cultures in different ways. Through art, which is universal and touches the light of intelligence and soul of fire within all of us. Or teaching, affirming ideals of peace and understanding before the weight of the prior generations’ grudges take hold. Your chosen professions honor the name ‘Link’ and every Link that has gone before you through the annuls of time approves of your decisions.”

Link’s mouth was hanging open by the end of her speech.

Why had she said that? The words didn’t feel like they came from her, but they were true. She felt their truth down to her soul, but it was like they had been whispered in her ear, and she commanded to speak, more than something she would ever say on her own.

Especially not to Link.

Oh Hylia, Link hadn’t moved.

Though Hylia might be the problem. Gosh, this was so embarrassing. Why did her freaky priestess background make her passionately spout truths when she wasn’t as the Shrine?

She felt blood flooding to her face in flushed embarrassment, and she snatched up her bag, “Oh Hylia, sorry about that! I can’t believe I said that. Uh, just ignore me, please. Please. I’m just going to tell them to wrap my food to go, sorry. Bye Link.”

She stood up and started walking to the counter when something grabbed at her backpack, stopping her in her tracks.

“No, please don’t go, it’s fine, it’s cool, I swear,” Link said. A glance back showed that he was blushing too, immediately releasing her bag. “You caught me off guard, but that’s one of the things I like about you. You’re always 100% sincere. It’s . . . it’s cool. Someone as smart as you could probably go around making everyone feel stupid, but you care more about saying what you actually think and feel and it’s cool. Don’t be embarrassed for saying something really cool.”

Zelda stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he meant all that or not.

He managed to turn redder, “And now I’ve used cool like four, no, five times in a row, showing I’m clearly the weird one and you should probably leave.”

“I don’t want to leave if you don’t want me to leave,” Zelda managed, taking small glances at him then away from him.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Awesome, does that mean I can give you your food now or what?” a girl said, jolting both of them from their heads. The girl popped her bubblegum and waited.

“Yes, please, right here,” Zelda said, hurriedly sitting back down. “Sorry.”

The girl shrugged, put the food down, and walked away.

“So, uhh, moving on,” Zelda said, “What do you think about taking Aryll to the Waker River Gardens?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Link said. “She’s more into knitting craft wise, but we spent some summers in the Waker Islands . . . .”

The red slowly receded from their faces as they managed to have a good, not intense, conversation. She helped him plan out different things to do with Aryll, and he let her infodump on some of the local history.

Then he walked her to her bus stop, so they could keep talking.

The bus was coming and he quickly asked, “So, do you, uh, want to join me and Aryll at the Waker River gardens? The day after Midwinters? If you’re not busy, Aryll would love to hear you talk about the sculptures, I’m sometimes too quiet for her on my own.”

The bus arrived, she only had a second to decide. “Yes, I’d love to. Um, I’ll get your phone number from Mipha?” she said, drifting towards the loading door.

“Please. See you soon,” Link said, still smiling at her.

Zelda nodded. Got on the bus. Sat herself in the farthest corner she could, pulled as many folds of her scarf in front of her mouth as she could and squealed as the bus drove away.

Missing Link, staring at her through the bus window, still able to hear it.

 The week coming up to Midwinters passed by in a blur of dance practice and texting Link. Zelda did get Mipha’s blessing to pursue Link, since Link had asked Mipha about Zelda too and she wasn’t one to stand in the way of true love for a childhood crush. Mark caught on, but didn’t tease her too much. Dad teased her more, but he was so busy preparing the shrine for the three-night ceremony, he couldn’t do it nearly enough to actually affect her.

Freshly bathed in blessed spring on their property, wearing the pine robe she had donned during Farore’s day, Zelda waited for her cue as Dad and Mark got the attendees to quiet down so they could start.

It seemed like there were more people here than usually attended. Hylia worship had fallen out of style with Castletown the last two-hundred years of industrial progress. Some she recognized, like Impa’s family with their snow-sheikah hair, they came every year, and most were tourists fascinated by the fact that she was descended from a straight maternal line of royalty and priestesses, rather than actually here to obtain blessings from the Goddess. Some faces she recognized from elsewhere, like Professor Rauru.

Luckily his eyesight was going and the Midwinter’s ceremony was the one ceremony that she didn’t speak, symbolizing the years of confinement and time-biding Hylia often required of her followers before blessing them with power to overthrow the darkness. He would definitely recognize her voice, but without her speaking, she’d be just Hylia’s Priestess.

Then she caught a truly familiar face, sitting with a blonde girl.

Link.

Zelda shoved the curtain closed and backed up, accidently overturning the brazier and bringing Impa towards her in worry.

“Zelda? What’s wrong?”

“Link’s in the crowd,” Zelda said, about to kneel and clean up the ashes. Impa forcefully yanked her away and looked pointedly at her dress. Right. Divine representatives of the goddess shouldn’t have ashes on their knees before going through their devotions if they could avoid it.

What did that matter? Link’s in the crowd! He was going to see her be weird and undress halfway and see her get her face painted with crazy symbols and watch her walk with bells all over her and he’s never going to see her as a maybe girlfriend ever again!

“Breathe Zelda,” Impa instructed. “Breathe, it’s fine. You’re okay.”

“But Link doesn’t know I’m this Zelda,” she emphasized. “He’s going to think I’m a freak. It takes years of study to understand the symbols and appreciate them, he’s here as a tourist and going to think I’m a religious nutcase.”

Impa opened her mouth to respond.

“And don’t say that it’s my fault for not telling him. My childhood trauma is not my fault.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Impa sighed. She scrubbed her hands clean then pushed Zelda’s still wet hair back behind one ear. “I was going to say that this is who you are. You are part of all the women who have come before you, and your legacy will become part of every daughter that descends from you. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’re going to paint the triforce on my forehead,” Zelda pointed out, wringing her hands. “And he’s going to watch you take off the robe and sew the new robe onto me. How could he possibly find me attractive after that!”

“Your father found your mother’s faith attractive,” Impa pointed out. “And I found my husband’s faith attractive. To believe something with your whole heart,” the drums silenced, their cue to enter the stage. “That’s what it means to live,” she finished with a whisper. “He’s not worthy of you if he doesn’t see the beauty of this ceremony.”

“But I really, really like him,” Zelda whimpered.

“Do you love Hylia more?”

That wasn’t fair.

It also wasn’t wrong. Zelda closed her eyes and let her head hang forward. She took a deep breath.

“Go, I will follow.”

“Hylia cares about your love life more than most,” Impa promised with a kiss to her brow. Wrinkled hands squeezed hers. “Trust Her. You will be loved. And it would be a precious story if your true love was named Link.”

Impa walked out and Zelda made herself breath another prayer.

To the Goddess, I give praise for the wisdom of my ancestors in continuing to honor her and the values she guards. I am honored by the strength given to endure all trials of my faith. I am honored by the courage She grants me to risk my heart for my faith in Her and all my ancestors before me. May Her blessings see me through this night with wisdom to perform correctly according to ancient practices, strength to endure without embarrassment, and courage to proclaim my faith of greater importance than the feelings my heart. Adimen.

Impa hit the gong that was Zelda’s cue.

Zelda had practiced enough to do this blindfolded. So she made her eyes unfocus on the crowd as she stepped into the firelight, her hair damp but no longer dripping.

The hour long ceremony felt longer.

Impa disrobed her, returning Farore’s gifts of courage, claimed between the fall equinox and midwinters, to the sky by burning the fabric. Her undershift, which modestly gathered above her bust and fell to her knees, was slowly covered with Midwinter’s clothes and bells, her outfit built on top of her to drumming of the assistants and occasionally flute. Impa spoke of each piece as it layered on her. What it represented. Finishing with her dry, now plyable hair.

Zelda held still when she was supposed to still and moved when she was to ring the bells at her wrists, ears, hair, knees, and ankles. She closed her eyes as Impa applied the facepaint.

And with a breath, Zelda turned her head to more clearly be seen by the audience.

Hylia, to you I give the shame I have been holding onto. I choose you and the traditions of my mothers. I repent of my embarrassment. Let me be your avatar.

Let Link see us as one and decide for himself if I am still someone he seeks.

Impa was doing the final stroke of the triforce, and it wasn’t her hand caressing Zelda’s shoulder in a hug. Impa stepped back, and still more gentle hands helped her stand up and walk like water, breathing in Farore’s wind to fuel the fire inside her.

Except the fire wasn’t just inside her anymore. It wasn’t tucked like a battery in her heart. It felt like her breath was setting fire to the very blood in her veins. Blood pushed through her like rivers of lava, but she was not burned. The air sweeping through her lungs wasn’t a human breath, but the wind rushing through the mountain peaks of Lanyru. She felt like she had become one with Hyrule. 

Do not speak, Daughter. Know that we are here with you, always. Hylia shines on you and protects Hyrule still.

A thousand voices at once should not be that gentle.

Tears gathered in her eyes, her only available response to overwhelming love, and she did not speak as she continued her dance. The tears acted as their own blindfold, as constant as the water flowing from the Zora’s Domain into Lake Hylia, but she no longer cared about the eyes of the audience, only that the powers within her and surrounding her knew to protect all those watching, and all those that weren’t.

To each direction she rang the bells and felt her love for the races connected to those cardinal points. Gorons to the North. Zora to the Northeast. Sheikah to the East. And so forth until all the peoples on Hylia’s land, under Hylia’s protection, were blessed with another year of the Goddess’s protection from evil and the desires and whispers of destruction.

The dance turned faster, but Zelda didn’t miss a single step, her body its own chorus, its own promise, that with every step of the goddess’s representative, it was a step that worked for Hyrule’s prosperity and piece. Zelda’s every step should ring out like this, always, but instead of chimes, love for the people around her and her desire for their protection should emanate from her for all to see and understand.

She would. She would. She would.

The dance wound down, so did the flames and the lights until everything was plunged into darkness, the drums and other instruments finally ceasing.  

Zelda stood up, the bells heralding what eyes couldn’t see. She danced forward again for every direction, for every people, and she swore she could see the blue of Link’s eyes in the darkness when the cloudy, moonless night meant no one saw anything, until a leap took her behind the curtain to the northwest leaving silence behind.

Zelda held stiller than she had the whole rest of the ceremony as Father turned the electric lights back on, thanked everyone for attending Hylia’s blessing, please leave a donation on your way out, and Happy Midwinter to everyone, gods all bless.

When the shrine had emptied out of the main ceremonial area, Impa arrived and respectfully removed the bells, wrapping them for next year with barely a sound. Then helped clean her face and help her out of the white midwinter’s dress. This newly made dress would be donned and dismantled come Nayru’s day in two months.

Zelda would normally change into her pajama’s from here, exhausted, and go to bed to wait Midwinter’s morning, but Mark called out as he handed her a bag of her clothes through the curtain.

“You’re gonna want these this time,” he said vaguely. “Your boyfriend asked to see you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zelda said. “And he’s probably waiting to tell me I’m never going to be.” She tried to feel hurt at the statement, now that the ceremony and strength from her ancestors had passed.

But she felt fine. Zelda had chosen her faith and it was the right decision.

Now was probably the best time for Link to break her heart, with the high of the ceremony, he’d barely be able to scratch it.

“Impa, I don’t remember you painting this one,” Zelda said, frowning at the triforce on the back of her right hand. She rubbed at it, but it wouldn’t come off. “Impa?”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Impa said, putting her hands over Zelda’s. Impa’s deep set eyes were smiling and watery, “It’s not paint or ink. It’s a mark from the Goddess that you have come fully into your power as her avatar on Earth. You’re going to need gloves if you want to hide that. And if my grandmother was right, not even gloves will truly work, not when you’re doing the goddess’s business with her full might.”

“Did . . . did Mom have this?” Zelda asked.

Impa shook her head, “Your mother was an excellent Priestess of Hylia, but the Goddess did not mark her in this way.”

“Are you dressed? Can I see? Dad’s whipping up a cake right now to celebrate claiming your divine birthright, by the way. Told you you were special.”

“I’m dressed,” Zelda said, still marveling at her hand.

“Let me see,” Mark said, coming through the curtains and stopping at her shoulder. He whistled, “That’s way better than a tattoo. It was glowing during your dance.”

“Really?”

“Really, it was super cool during the darkness part. We can experiment later,” Mark decided, pushing her shoulder the way he came in, “Boyfriend now.”

“Not my boyfriend,” she said, her face flushing a little as she let him push her out towards the exit. She had been the goddess’s avatar and blessed the kingdom of Hyrule less than an hour ago, she could talk to Link.

And even if she word vomited like last time, Zelda would be okay.

She could be as embarrassing as her worst moment, and she would be okay.

Zelda grinned and picked up the pace.

“Link, hi!” Zelda said, rounding the corner to where he was waiting at the top of the steps.

“Zelda,” he said, his hand going to his hair.

“Did I see you here with your sister earlier?” Zelda asked, looking around for her.

“Aryll was cold, and she promised to wait in the car so long as I made sure you were still coming with us to the Gardens the day after tomorrow.”

Link shoved his hands in his pockets after he stopped fiddling with his hair.

“So . . . you were waiting for me?” Zelda prompted. Not scared of his answer in the least.

Link nodded, “Yeah, I asked your dad if I could see you. He almost said no, but your brother stepped in and said he’d ask you. Umm, so Zelda is a family name?”

Zelda giggled, “Just a bit.”

“Isn’t technically still illegal for members of your family to be named Zelda?” he said, then his eyes widened, “Not that I’m going to report you to the police or anything.”

“My ancestors figured that so long as they left off the fact that I am technically Zelda IV-XXIII, and my legal name is only Zelda Baker, people wouldn’t accuse us of trying to reclaim our ancestral position as heads of state,” Zelda said.

“You are the 4,023rd Zelda to bear the name?” Link asked.

“My family kept good records.”

Link groaned, “You are literally descended royalty and the Goddess’s avatar in mortal form.” His hand came out of his pocket to cover his eyes, “And you are not making this easy on me.”

“I’ll be quiet while you tell me what you’re trying to say,” Zelda promised sincerely.

He peeked at her through his fingers.

Zelda mimed locking her lips shut.

He took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, facing her again. “Zelda Baker, I really like you. I mean really like you. Would the Royal Goddess Zelda XXIII, consider going on a date with plain old mortal me?”

“The Royal Goddess Zelda isn’t going to come out again until Nayru’s day,” Zelda told him, grinning. “But Zelda Baker would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” he asked, perking up. “Umm, how does breakfast at Telma’s sound? We can pick Aryll up and go to the Gardens after.”

“It sounds perfect.”

“Great,” Link said, smiling goofily.

For a moment Zelda felt a warm hand on her back, pushing her to go one step forward. And maybe it was just the memory, the residual confidence, but Zelda took that step forward.

“Can I . . .” Zelda asked, taking the second step to be very clearly in his personal space.

“Whatever you want,” Link promised, not moving away.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, a little shyness coming back at actually voicing the request. It sounded juvenile, like a real adult would be able to read body language and immediately understand if this was allowed or not, like in the movies. But this was Zelda’s first kiss. She wanted to be sure and clear.

“Yes,” he said, and his hand came up to cup Zelda’ cheek and pull her lips to his. His lips moved against hers, and she didn’t quite know what to do, but she pressed forward more, hoping he understood she liked what was happening.

Suddenly overwhelmed, she pulled back, her face feeling hot.

“Goodnight Link,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll see you Tuesday at Telmas, 8:00.”

“Goodnight Zelda,” he said, and waved as she escaped back to her house.

This time Zelda didn’t deny it when Mark called Link her boyfriend.

#12DaysofChristmas2022 #Zelink #Legend of Zelda #Priestess Zelda #Hopefully the others are shorter #but I think I broke through my writer's block #this was really fun #remember that Christmas is a time where you're allowed to share your more personal beliefs about God and the meaning of life

[oreosmama]

The Luna Hunt (Alpha Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You don’t need a mate right now; you’ve got more important things, like revenge, on your mind. But the Alpha King needs a mate to take his throne, and now he’s come to town to take you. 

A/N: okay, tell me if I’m wrong but like y’all have read this plot eighty bajillion times on Wattpad before, right? Ehh, I literally thought of it in the shower and it might be some sort of stealing from some unknown author I read back when I was a young, young Oreosmama, but I’m still gonna post it for now bc I like it. I channeled my inner Wattpad writer for this too so I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4244

        Someone should have told the Alpha King that lining up one thousand-something girls shoulder to shoulder in ninety degree weather was a mistake waiting to happen.

        “Achoo!”

        Your sneeze caught the attention--and glares--of the six or so girls lined up on either side of you, each with their own individual reactions. The girl directly to your left, for instance, smiled pityingly and passed you a kleenex from a package sitting in her purse just beside her feet. 

        “I get allergies too,” she shrugged, “always good to keep some handy, don’t you think?” Mustering the most sincere grin you could, you nodded in thanks and accepted the tissue. 

        Sweat dripped down your temple and slid down far enough to disappear under the color of your windbreaker, a piece of clothing that had made you the outcast of the day evidently. 

        You didn’t care. You wore it for a reason. 

        As more pollen tickled your nose, you leaned forward just a bit to see how far away the man traveling down the line was. Good, you thought, I still have enough time. 

        Though he was just a tiny speck from your place somewhere in the middle-end range of the line, you could feel the tension he was inflicting on his audience. 

        The Alpha King. Like all his fathers before him, he was traveling from town to town in search of his predestined mate so he could finally take his place on the throne. He was the ripe age of twenty and, according to all the times you had seen him on the news, he was quite the looker. 

        Though technically illegitimate because his father and mother had produced him before marriage, the Alpha King of this century was especially distinctive for an entirely different reason--he was hot. 

        With blond hair that always seemed to be ruffled and crimson irises that could singe off your eyebrows, Katsuki Bakugou was a young king known to all. Even grandmothers, though they disapproved of his less-than mannerly attitude, still swooned at his natural beauty. 

        Every time you saw him on TV when you were younger, he would always have that permanent scowl etched on his face. And, like most other girls at the time, you wished you could have been the one to turn it upside down. 

        Then you grew up and realized he didn’t really matter. At least not to you. 

        He was just another alpha, albeit the one of the largest pack in the world. Unlike most packs, the Bakugous’ numbers reached into the hundred millions and had towns scattered all over the nation. They were known to be untouchable, and it was an honor to be a part of them. 

        “God, could this go any slower?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise at the groan of the girl next to you. Though she seemed even less interested in the event happening around her with gum smacking and eyes rolling, it seemed her family had at least convinced--or maybe forced--her into a dress that made her blend well with the other girls. 

        Well, at least you weren’t entirely alone in your dreading of this process. 

        The process itself wasn’t particularly a rager but it was a sacred tradition that the Bakugou pack insisted on continuing. This was how the Luna Queen was found, wherever she was. 

        You just wished she’d show up soon so you could get this show on the road. 

        Bakugou Katsuki, however, seemed to be taking his sweet time sniffing down the line of women in the open field of your hometown. Parents and other not-of-age people were forced to stay in their homes so as to not interfere with this careful procedure, and that was the one thing you were thankful for--the one thing you were looking forward to. 

        Now, you just had to wait for the bodyguard of your particular clump of women to step away so the king could smell each of you individually. Mates’ scents are supposed to stand out in crowds of millions, but after one particular sick incident so many centuries ago where a certain Alpha King ended up with a stuffy nose, they decided to leave the kings unescorted as they walked along the line. 

        And so here you were, waiting ever so patiently for Mr. Rhinoceros-neck to step back and away to join the rest of his fellow betas as they guarded the king from a calculated distance of seventy feet. 

        But, of course, Bakugou Katsuki was taking his sweet time. 

        Part of you almost pitied the girls beside you, obviously making the mistake of not wearing sunscreen. You memorized the day's exact weather report and were determined to not let even a sunburn stop you from your mission. 

        Though, maybe a reapplication wouldn’t hurt since you seemed to be sweating off your first layer of SPF 60. Perhaps the windbreaker you zipped over a thick black sweatshirt was a bit of overkill but it was all part of your plot. 

        Heat strokes be damned--you were not screwing up today. 

        Twenty minutes crawled by at a snail’s pace and in that time, the scent of deodorant and perfume reached its crescendo. Girls in skin-tight, above-the-knee dresses reapplied just a touch of antiperspirant with ease as the Alpha King made his way closer and closer to your gaggle of a hundred or so women. The other girls who had gone with more modest skirts and dressy blouses, however, had a bit more trouble tackling the B.O. issue. 

        The sun reached its peak in the sky and you checked your phone to make sure you hadn’t counted wrong. 

        Nope, no mistakes here. Four hours you’d been standing in that line with Miss Smacks-her-gum on your right and Lady Kleenex on your left. Smacks-her-gum had made the mistake of not wearing sweatproof mascara but you weren’t going to tell her that anytime soon. Trapped in a black leather jacket over a poofy black skirt that tickled your own legs beneath their leggings, she looked about two seconds from blowing her top or passing out--you hoped you weren’t going to be around to see either. 

        “Ooh, he’s getting closer,” Kleenex squeaked out, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger out of habit. “Damn, he’s so cute.” She glanced back at you with a nervous smile. “I really do wish I was his mate but, God, what are the odds, right?”

        “Yeah,” you breathed out with a friendly smile, waiting until she returned her attention to the direction of the Alpha King, for she would be the first one he sniffed of your little trio, before dropping the smile entirely, “what are the odds.”

        Now!

        Rhinoceros-neck glanced up and down your row one more time from thirty feet away to make sure no one had left before leaving his post, a sure sign that the group of bodyguard betas wasn’t too far behind. 

        If even one of them saw you, the plan would be ruined. You had to make this quick. 

        Unzipping your windbreaker, you shrugged it off your shoulders and pulled it free of you entirely, feeling for the binder clips in the front pocket as you did so. Then you zipped it back up and shoved a scrunched wrist under each clip. 

        “What are you doing?” The girl in the leather jacket seemed less pissed off than you expected, that was until you tried to attach the binder clip to her jacket-shoulder.

        “Don’t mind me, I just can’t stick around long,” you mumbled, too busy to expand on just how dumb your plan was with attaching the other clip to Kleenex girl’s shoulder cutouts of her blouse. 

        Yes, perhaps it was all based on the slim-to-none chance you had of lucking out so stupidly that an entire group of betas and an Alpha King literally overlooked your existence, but it was your only chance of escaping scot free. All you needed was for it to look like a person was there.

        You’d done your research, and you’d done it well. You knew Bakugou Katsuki was a pissy man, but you also knew he never made eye contact with women while he went down his lines. Part of it was out of respect as due the tradition’s requirements, but part of it was to make the entire process faster. Women were beautiful all over, but finding your true mate depended on all of your senses, not just one. 

        If his peripheral vision was as useless as you hoped, you could make a clear getaway and go on your true mission. As fun as it was to participate in the Alpha King’s police lineup of one-thousand women for four hours, you had other things to do with your life.

        Like finding that deadbeat father of yours. 

        You stepped back and inspected your windbreaker, fluffing it out here and there while the two girls it was attached to tried to crane their necks back far enough to ask you what the hell was happening. 

        You didn’t respond to their questions, instead kicking off the flats you’d allowed your mom to shove on your feet and placing them in the exact place they’d been for the last two hours, easily found due to the matted down grass. Attached to the backpack you’d brought that sat behind you like all other girls had done with their purses and such were a pair of combat boots, the laces strung around the straps of the black bag. 

        All dark colors, all practically invisible in the forest you planned on escaping through. 

        Past your group of one hundred girls was another group of the same number before all the women of the town finally ran out and the edge of the farm’s field met a forest. The owner of the wheat field that had been so viciously attacking your nose for the better part of your morning had been paid handsomely for his participation in this town and century’s search of the Luna Queen, just as his ancestors had been. 

        The forest was thick and ran for miles far and wide, while on the complete other side of the field sat the rest of the town waiting for the Alpha King’s verdict. 

        Queen or no Queen? they all wondered.

        Shit, did I grab that extra protein bar? you wondered.

        The grass was wonderfully cool on your sock-covered feet as you untied your boots, glancing up once or twice and going on your tiptoes to see how fast the Alpha King was moving at this point. Surely he was growing tired of this just as you wished he’d take even more time. 

        A blond head bobbed past fifty or so girls down, proving yourself correct. He was going faster. 

        “Shit,” you hissed, kneeling down to lace up the boots, only to catch a faceful of dirt courtesy of Leather Girl’s gothic boots. 

        “What the hell are you doing down there?” she spat, Kleenex girl nodding with the same curiosity. 

        “I’m gonna go for a stroll.” You returned your gaze to the boots, lacing the last one up faster before a blond or a boot could stop you.

        “What about the king?”

        “What about him?” You rose to your feet and swung the backpack’s straps over your shoulders, tightening them for a mad dash you prayed wouldn’t have to happen. 

        “Why are you just up and leaving now? You could be caught and get in serious trouble,” Kleenex piped up innocently. Her eyes were glimmering with concern, an emotion you knew was much undeserved for someone like yourself about to do something so stupid. 

        “No I won’t,” you shook your head and gestured to the jacket clipped between the two girls. You adjusted the clips so the windbreaker didn’t slump as much, but it was almost an impossible task due to the eight-inch difference between the two of them. “If you guys keep that up, we’ll all survive this. Just play it cool.”

        Both pairs of eyes on you bulged as you traveled toward the woods instead of the town where they thought you were leaving to. The girl in the leather jacket caught your hand in the nick of time, tugging you back hard enough that you were face to face with both girls. The movement behind their backs distracted other girls in line whose attention you really didn’t need at this point so you yanked your hand away with a glare. 

        A flare of guilt lit up your stomach at the worry in both girls’ gazes, but you couldn’t stop the question escaping your lips. “What do you want?”

        “What if they catch you?”

        “They won’t.”

        Leather Jacket gave you a deadpan look. “What if they notice you’re gone?”

        “I’ll be gone by then, hopefully,” you stared down at the hand still reaching for your wrist for emphasis. 

        “Well, what about your family?”

        The question made you tense and your eyes flashed. “They’ll be fine,” you gritted out. You were doing this for them after all, and all of it was explained in the neatly folded letter still in the pocket of your windbreaker. 

        They would understand. They’d have to.

        “Fine then,” Leather Jacket shrugged, forcing a strand of black hair back behind her ear. “Just be safe.”

        Finally, something you wanted--yet didn’t exactly expect, especially from her--to hear. 

        Kleenex nodded in agreement and you smiled. 

        “Thanks.” 

        And then you left, crouching down and slipping behind the backs of a hundred girls you’d gone to school with for twelve years. 

                                ~~~

        Katsuki kept his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the grass below his shoes as he made his way down the third line that week. Hundredth line that month, with many more to come. 

        Kirishima and Kaminari snickered in the group behind him as he tripped on a sudden hole in the dirt, causing him to cuss and throw a glare back at them. “Zip it, you two.”

        Both men straightened up and saluted him with pursed lips. “Yes sir.”

        And then they broke off into laughter once more.

        Katsuki’s lip curled back and he refrained from growling, knowing that he could scare any of the girls to his left and then he’d get an earful from his parents. 

        Hands shoved into his pockets, he strutted past each and every girl without even catching a whiff of something he even minded at that point. Instead, it was all the same. Flowery scents here and tropically scents there made his mind reel with a full-fledged headache. This town was bigger than the ones he was used to visiting, but a town was more preferable than a city any day--the populations were always too high for him to ever escape a scenting line in a short six hours. 

        Plus, quaint towns like this had his most favored landscape: small shops and cottages behind him with a wide forest surrounding, too thick to even see the sunrise and yet so clear that you could count the stars. 

        Not that he’d ever tell anyone he liked that. 

        Although, deep down he thought that if he ever did find his mate, a town like this was where he’d like to settle down after running the pack for long enough. Letting his wolf free in miles and miles of forest was a dream, and reminded him of his pack’s headquarters thousands of miles away from here. 

        At least I can see the end of the line now, he thought, reaching up a single hand to massage the back of his neck. 

        He estimated he’d be done in this town in another ten minutes. Then maybe he could convince his father’s Beta to let him roam through the forest for even just an hour before moving on. 

        Just a little faster now. 

        Of all the parts of scenting lines, his favorite part was definitely finishing them. 

        So close… so close. 

        Now, he could see the last girl--and the anxious smile on her face. Dear God, that poor thing thought she was the one. She definitely wasn’t the first, and he had to thank that no girl had jumped like the ones in the previous towns had. 

        All towns and cities had their weirdos, but Katsuki was especially pleased to find out that this town was astoundingly normal. 

        Well, maybe except for that one girl that was very obviously trying to make a break for it to the forest. 

        Well that’s a new one. Maybe he-

        Mate.

        The sweet scent of sugared pine and apple trees wafted into his nose, mixing with a slight pinch of spiced cinnamon. His eyes almost rolled back into his head and yet he couldn’t take them off the form sprinting behind the other girls. 

        Gasps filled his ears as Katsuki’s body stood at attention. But if that girl was his mate then how could he smell her…?

        One look to his left and he saw a single maroon windbreaker, attached via what looked like binder clips to the clothing of the two women on either side of an empty space. Even a pair of shoes sat on the floor where his mate had stood, and wind forced the jacket to flutter in midair. 

        She ran away.

        Something in Katsuki’s chest sank as he growled in frustration, ripping the windbreaker away from between the two girls and ignoring how they flinched before he pressed it to his nose, inhaling as much of the scent as he could.

        Intoxicating.

        He could feel his mind sharpen as he stepped away from the group of girls, turning his head once more to search for his mate. 

        A black form disappeared behind a collection of trees hundreds of feet away but he heard the crack of her stepping on a twig as clear as day. 

        “Kirishima,” he barked and the redhead appeared at his side. “Take these two into custody. They might know something.”

        “Bakugou, did you find her?”

        He kept his gaze locked on the trees.

        “Yes, but take the other men with you. I want to find her alone.”

        “But what if-”

        “No,” he spat, blazing eyes almost setting Kirishima aflame, “I’m doing it alone. If even one of you gets near her or gets in my way, he’s not making it out of the forest alive.”

        Kirishima nodded in understanding and whistled to the others, grabbing both girls as they whimpered in fear while waiting for better restraints. 

        Katsuki still kept his eyes locked on the forest edge, just where his mate had disappeared. It was only then that he noticed his hands were wringing the jacket of life, twisting it until it appeared to be tight as a spring waiting to uncoil. 

        Pressing his lips firm against one another, he unraveled the jacket, searching for something, anything that might give him a clue as to who you were and why you did what you did. 

        At last, he found a letter in the front right pocket, addressed to your own mother. 

Dear Mom,

I’m going after him. I can’t let what he did to you slide, even if you say it was for the best.

With love,

YN

        YN. At least now he had a name. 

        And it was perfect. 

        YN, your mate was going to find you whether you wanted him to or not. 

        And he wasn’t going to let you go.

                                ~~~

        There was no way you had escaped as smoothly as you thought you did. Even though you felt like every breath you took sounded like a trumpet announcing your location, you never stopped running, staying crouched beneath the groups of women who didn’t even bother to turn back and watch the show. 

        It wasn’t too graceful either. Your thighs were on fire due to, you know, you having never done this before. After a solid two minutes, you felt your calves spasm and you almost gave up there, but the forest’s edge was so close… so close. 

        When the floor finally transitioned from grass to grass mixed with soil and animal feces, you almost jumped for joy, sprinting so hard that your legs almost gave out when you passed a hefty group of trees that you felt wide enough to hide you. 

        Your ears perked at a series of gasps that rang in the clearing behind you and it was then that you knew your escape was far from over. 

        Maybe there actually was a law against escaping the Searching for Luna Queens ceremony--you’d googled it thoroughly just to make sure you weren’t officially a criminal on the run until after you located your father. But hey, maybe Google had lied to you.

        Then you were screwed. 

        Your mother and stepfather, you could deal with.

        The entirety of the Alpha King’s pack… hmm, not so much. 

        So you kept running, wincing every once in a while that you stepped over a cracked twig. Sweat stuck your hair to your skin and slickened your legs entirely, the midday heat combined with a run through the humid forest finally catching up to you. 

        A small rest wouldn’t hurt. Maybe twenty minutes had passed, thirty if you were really lucky. You settled for a small stump in somewhat of a clearing. Here, at least, the branches of the trees were only swinging so low that they just brushed the top of your head, as opposed to when they thwapped you in the face while you ran.

        Zipping open your backpack, you grabbed the first water bottle you saw, not even bothering to search for the cap after you tore it off and tossed it away before gulping down three-quarters of the bottle. 

        Your heart finally seemed to slow as you took in gasps of air, batting away and choking on the occasional gnat. Your hair felt greasy and sweaty while the rest of your body was just entirely moist--you’d never been so disgusting before. 

        But you’d also never run away from a group of thirteen grown men before so you chalked it up to it being amateur hour. 

        From your seat on the stump, you honed in on your surroundings, trying to figure out which direction to go from there. 

        Birds chirped to your left (possibly South), but you heard the small babblings of a creek to your right (also possibly South). There was nothing coming from in front of you but flies buzzing and the occasional deer scraping its antlers against a tree, and meanwhile behind you there was a-

        SHIT!

        You jumped out of your seat on the stump but it was already too late. Just as you lunged ten feet out a weight tackled you from behind and forced you onto the ground, their heavier weight and superior strength keeping you immobile. 

        Shoulda known it was illegal.

        But only then after your heart stopped trying to rip itself away from your body did you feel it. Sparks. Little zaps of pure pleasure tracing up and down your spine and forcing an involuntary shiver out of you. 

        And the smell, oh God the smell. Like your favorite fruits sprinkled with just a touch of vanilla that had you biting back a moan. 

        Mate.

        Parts of you were happy and others were sad. Happy you found your mate, but sad he had almost just tackled you and forced your face into a pile of bear dung. 

        This was not a great first meeting. 

        “Are you gonna get off me anytime soon?” you wheezed out, spitting out spare bits of dirt that had flown into your mouth mid-tackle.

        Thank God you packed a toothbrush. 

        “Only if you promise not to run.” Jesus fuck this man needed to chill with his voice. It washed over you and warmed up the pit of your stomach like no other, every husk and lilt of his words making you almost quiver in delight. 

        “Yep,” you coughed out, voice surprisingly steady for someone being suffocated mentally and physically, “pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson. You’re good.”

        After a slow, somewhat trembling exhale, the man finally got off you and rose to his feet, instead choosing to drop into a squat beside your head with both arms relaxing on his knees. 

        Very strong, muscular looking arms on very strong, muscular looking knees. And things. And chest. And everything. 

        Dear God, maybe you actually hit the jackpot for once. 

        A large hand reached towards your face, not particularly gentle as he brushed the hair from your face, though you could tell he was trying by his hesitancy. His hand paused right as it reached your hair and after a deep breath, he pushed it back up behind your ear and you could see the rest of him at last. 

        Oh holy shit. 

        “Ba-akugou Katsuki.” 

        “YN.”

        The Alpha King was your mate.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #abo bnha x reader #abo bakugou x reader #alpha bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader abo au #bakugou x reader abo #bakugou x reader abo au #bnha abo #mha abo #alpha bakugo x reader #alpha katsuki x reader #alpha bnha x reader #alpha mha x reader #bnha x reader abo #mha x reader abo #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #abo x reader #alpha x reader #bakugou #bakugo #katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

Yandere Izuku Midoriya x Villain Male Reader

I would like to clarify something, I never watched “My Hero Academia,” so don’t know much about this show. 

Warning: Violence, slight mention of bullying. 

Requested from Pokadeathpony

Background: Midoriya is doing the normal thing patrolling the city when he finds this beautiful villain male and falls for him. Midoriya decides after already killing an investigator on M/N to join and be the best killing couple.

M/N: Male Name

V/N: Villain Name

E/C: Eye color

S/C: Skin color

H/C: Hair color

sorry if this is bad!!

———————————————————————————————————

Midoriya was patrolling the city at night when he noticed something happening in an alleyway. he saw a guy attacking someone else! As he got closer, he noticed the features of the assailant. (You’re a murder by the way.)

He had soft, fluffy H/C hair, a nice S/C tone that radiants from the gray and dark colors, and couldn’t see his E/C, but it must be beautiful like the rest of him. Midoriya blushed at his features. He had never felt this towards anyone. This is a new feeling to him. 

He was stared for too long because M/n saw him and ran away. I wanted to stop him and bring him to justice but something in me told me to just let him go. ‘Well, I guess I won’t see him again.’ I sighed to myself as I walked away from the scene. 

(Why didn’t you cover yourself in black clothing so you couldn’t be seen? Because of plot purposes.)

Flash forward to morning (By the way it’s summer break in this story. Again I have never seen the show, so don’t judge me.)

Midoriya’s sleep was disturbed by his alarm clock. “Ugh!” Midoriya groans as he smashed his clock. ‘Well, I’ll have to get a new one,’ Midoriya said to himself saying that this wasn’t the first time he has done it. Midoriya just laid there for the next 10 minutes before getting up. 

‘What day is it today?’ Midoriya got up and checked the calendar, seeing that it was Spring Break. ‘Yes, It’s spring break!’ Midoriya went to the kitchen to make some breakfast and watch TV. Midoriya made a traditional breakfast that consists of steamed rice, miso soup, protein such as grilled fish, and various side dishes. 

After making his breakfast he sat down and watched TV. nothing was really so he went on the News Channel. “Good morning everyone, it’s a wonderful day here in Musutafu I’m Himari Yamamoto, and now for the weather with Sakura Kobayashi.” (Random name I created.) it then flashed over to the Weather woman. 

“Thank you, Himari Suzuki. So today, we have warm winds coming in from the south and today’s temperature is 18 °C (64 degrees Fahrenheit) now back to you, Himari.” she was done giving the weather. 

“Thank you, Sakura, now onto breaking news. A dead body was found in an alleyway near (insert random restaurant name) last night at 10 something PM.” 

(Does this sound like a good news broadcast?)

when the news lady said that Midoriya had a flashback to last night, he remembers seeing the cute murder. ‘Wait cute?!’ Midoriya was getting all confused about this. He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the news say, “An investigator is currently trying to bring this murderer to justice.” 

‘An investigator?!’ something is triggering Midoriya. For some reason, he’s mad at this person, but he should be happy that someone is going to bring them to justice. ‘Why I’m I like this?! What I’m I feeling?’ Midoriya was confused, did he like this murderer? 

Time Skip (10 PM)

It was 10 PM, the same time Midoriya first spotted ‘him’. Midoriya hated night patrol (does he?) but this time he is actually was excited because maybe he’ll accidentally into him. Nothing really happened until he sees the same H/c and S/c. just to be sure, he got closer and he could confirm that was M/n.

M/n was just walking around. People assumed that M/n was a kind person and that he would never do anything bad towards anyone but behind closed doors, M/n can be the most dangerous person you’ll ever meet. He shows no mercy and is ruthless. But he only kills people who wronged him and people who bully him because he was the ‘quiet kid.’

Anyways M/n was just walking, he was going to the store to get some items. As M/n was walking he could feel someone watching him. He kept turning and looking around. This is what years of bullying can do to you, it makes you more aware but of course that all changed when M/n killed his bullies. M/n arrived at the store and got what he needs. 

While walking home, he could still feel eyes watching his every move. ‘Is it that damn investigator?’ M/n yelled in his mind. But little did he know that those eyes were not from the investigator but from a hero.

Time Skip (3 weeks)

For the past three weeks, M/n felt like he was being watched. M.n could rule out that it wasn’t the investigator because he still doesn’t know who is behind all of these murders. As for Midoriya, he watched M/n from the top of the building just in the shadows. He learned a lot about M/n from stalking him, he discovered that most of M/n victims are his bullies. Midoriya is lovesick for M/n. 

Midoriya finally understood what he was feeling. These feelings developed as he began to stalk M/n more. He denied it at first but it got more controlling. Midoriya wanted to join M/n but he couldn’t do that because of the investigator. So he had to deal with him.

Midoriya got out his phone and called him. It was ringing for moments until someone picked up, “Hello?” the man finally picked up. “Ah yes, is this Satoshi...  Hashimoto?” “Yes, this is Satoshi. What do you need?” “This Izuku Midoriya and I want to help you with the murder cases.” “Wait you’re the Izuku Midoriya?!” Looks like Satoshi is a fan of Midoriya. MIdoriya is just getting more annoyed about this man. 

“Answer my question. Yes or no? The more time that is consumed, the more time that killer is out there.” “Yes, I’ll be honored for you to help me.” “Okay, I want you to meet me at my apartment. Today at 11:00.” “Uhh, why your place?” “Do you want me to help or not?!” “Yes, sorry, I’ll be over there.” “Great see you at 11:00.” then Midoriya hung up. 

Midoriya sat there with a sadistic grin on his face. ‘This night will be your last.’

Time Skip (11:00)

It was 11:00 and Satoshi should be arriving soon.11:10, Satoshi hasn’t arrived. 11:30 still hasn’t arrived. Just then Midoriya received a call. “Yes, I don’t know where you live.” *sigh* “Okay I live in the (Apartment name) complex, on the 4th floor. Go straight and then take a left, and go straight.” “Okay thank you.”

It was currently 12:10 AM and Midoriya heard someone knocking on the door. ‘About time.’ Midoriya got up and walked to the door, unlocking it. “Hey, Satoshi nice to meet you.” he extended his arm out. “Nice to meet you too,” Midoriya said while shaking his hand. “Come inside.” “Okay.” Satoshi walked inside and Modoriya locked the door. 

Midoriya slowly walked behind Satoshi, pulling out the knife he had in his pocket. “So wha-” Midoriya put his hand over Satoshi’s mouth covering it so he wouldn’t make a sound. And Midoriya shoved the knife into his head killing him instantly. ‘So this is what murdering someone feels like?’ Midoriya didn’t feel guilty, he felt relieved. 

Midoriya didn’t stop there, he continued to repeatedly stab Satoshi’s body. He cut his fingers off one by one. He cut open his chest and pulled his intestines out. Midoriya released all of his anger. “Tsk, what a mess.” Midoriya grabbed the body and put it in a trash bag. He cleaned up the blood and cleaned the knife. 

Once completed Midoriya took the body to the nearby garbage dumpster and there it in. “Time to go to sleep.” 

Time Skip (3 days) 

M/n turned on the news and he was shocked at what he just saw. “The body of Satoshi Hashimoto was found in a dumpster. The killer is unknown but it is speculated that it’s the same murderer.” ‘I didn’t kill this man? If it wasn’t me then who was it?’ M/n thought to himself. But M/n didn’t care at least Satoshi wasn’t a problem anymore. 

Times Skip (10:00 PM. Another one?! Just too lazy to put anything else.)

M/n was walking when he was grabbed and pulled into an alleyway. He was shocked at first but he regained his focus and looked up at who it was. ‘Just who I looking for.’ M/n smirked but before he could pull out his knife, and stab this person, someone else killed him. The body dropped to the ground revealing the person who was behind him. And it shocked M/n.

‘Midoriya?’ M/n mouth dropped. “Hello, M/n.” “How do you know my name?” “Well… you see. You caught my attention and... to be honest I was the one watching.” M/n couldn’t process what was going on. The MIDORIYA was interested in him and he didn’t care that I kill people? “But I kill people… how are you interested in me?” “Well I knew you were a killer but I just stayed quiet. And that investigator, Satoshi? I was the one who killed him.” 

M/n was now more shocked. “You were the one who killed him?! Why though? I thought you were a hero?” “Yes, I was the one who killed. Why? Because while I was watching you, I started to develop feelings… sick feelings. And now the last question, I WAS a hero but now I want to join you.”

Not only does Midoriya want to join you in killing people but also has feelings for you. Sick feelings. ‘I mean Midoriya is kind of cute.’ you thought to yourself. “Fine, I give you a chance and you can join me.” Midoriya face lit up and he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss. You blushed at this. “Okay stop that, you need to prove yourself first.” Midoriya nodded his head. 

Time skip (5 months later)

Midoriya proved himself showing you that he can handle it. He also was ruthless as you and showed no mercy. You also began to develop feelings for Midoriya and you confessed to him, he was ecstatic.  He pulled you for a long kiss and you kiss back, melting into it. He pulled back and whispered.

“You’re mine. You belong to me and I belong to you.” 

ANNOUCEMENT: I’m currently out of request! You can request me something. it has to be Male reader or gender-neutral, give a description, and you can request smut if you want. any male character from anime to your favorite celebrities. I need to create a rules section but I don’t know how to do that.

#izuku midoriya #x male reader #yandere #stalking #midoriya x male reader #yandere midoriya #yandere midoriya x male reader #mention of bullying #violence #sorry if its bad

[hiswhiteknight]

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 8

Summary:  Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2345

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

What Murtagh said and how he stared at you was quite unsettling, what could you possibly mean by a ‘woman’ taking care of Jamie? You were quite sure Laohaire was a woman and could take nice care of Jamie. That thought didn’t settle well either, but you couldn’t understand why. It felt like it was something you had buried deep in your soul, so deep you could only focus on getting back home to your family – Davy. When you were preparing for the gathering, you tried to think about what your brother was doing and whether he felt alone or abandoned. The guilt of your lack of fight or focus on getting home crept into your body and weighed you down.

Angus entered the surgery, “Lass, the festivities are about to be going, let’s make our way up.”

You nodded at him and started to walk up, “Do I look like I’ll fit in up there?”

“You’ll fit in plenty enough, enough for a colony lass,” he muttered to you. “Just stay out of trouble, I’ve got my mind on-.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your hand to stop in from continuing, “Angus, I get you want to find a lady and I promise to not get in the way. I still got a ton of work to do before tomorrow’s hunt. I do not plan to stay long, which is what I told Mrs. Fitz. The laird gave me a job, I intend to do well.”

“Just do as your told,” he pushed you forward. You fought every bone and muscle in your body not to thrash him about. No matter the effort, you could not win the trust of some of the people here Angus and Dougal included. You could only kill someone with kindness so much before you take someone’s throat out with your fists.

Mrs. Fitz passed by you, “You look lovely in that dress, my dear. I told you, now some man will come and sweep you up, though I’ll hate to see the day someone takes you from us.”

You could see Murtagh rolling his eyes, as you looked down at the people prepping from the oath ceremony. You bit the inside of your cheek, “Mrs. Fitz, I told you. I do not intend to marry, I have a family waiting for me back by Inverness. I’m just buying my time.”

“That reminds me, Gale Allister left your payment in the kitchen by the flour. Thought it was best she avoids the surgery with all your business getting ready for hunt,” she shared with you.

“Thank you Mrs. Fitz, I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” you half hugged her. You tried to ignore the suspicious look from Murtagh. You had been finding little chores and such to help the community here, as well earn money that will help foster your escape home. “Murtagh, where is Mister McTavish? I’d assume he’d be here for the oath taking.”

Murtagh glanced down at you, trying to avoid making too much eye contact with you, “Leave the man be right now. He’s best to be not seen during the swearing ceremony. I feel you’ve tortured the man enough for a life time.”

“What are you on about, I do not torture anyone?” Collum entered the room starting the ceremony with Dougal. It was actually quite beautiful, full of tradition, and honor.

“You’re torturing me right now, lass,” Murtagh grumbled under his breath.

Mrs. Fitz pinched Murtagh’s arm to shush him, “If they are all the same, I’m off to get more work done. Keep me posted Mrs. Fitz,” you kiss her cheek and skip away to your work space. Angus caught sight of you and followed, “Angus, I pinky swear I will not wonder away and get you in trouble with Dougal.”

He gripped her arm, “No, no, no – you have to stay up here until I find a lady-.”

“Too much Angus, too much,” you stopped him quickly. “Here,” you pass Angus a necklace given to you by your mother, “This is my necklace given to me by mom before she died.” Angus looked immediately concerned you were going to get emotional, “As long as you hold that necklace, I’m not going anywhere. Go enjoy the gathering.”

He looked at the necklace in his hand to you, “You sneak off girl, I’ll gut you. Stay in the surgery, no wandering off like you like to.”

You put your two fingers up like you were a scout. Angus gave you a strange look before motioning you down to the surgery, “Angus,” you called to him, he looked back at you quickly, “You lose that, I promise no laird will stop me from taking your balls.”

He waved you off, laughing to himself, “A lady with a mouth like yours.”

You were only partially concerned Angus would lose your necklace. You had made your way to the surgery, but stopped on the last stair. You had already prepared for the hunt with your materials and such. You didn’t want to stay at the ceremony because it made you think of your past with the Marines and your brother with your traditions. Davy would be so impressed by seeing some of his heritage. He would probably love this whole experience. Think of the hunt the next day, you grew sick and worried. You were never a hunter; you had a soft spots for most animals. You had trouble killing spiders, though your history with war was quite the contradiction. Your brother constantly made fun of you for it. The thought of animals made you think of your horse. Your promised Angus you would stay put, but it’s not like you planned to escape. You just wanted to drop off your medical supplies and check on your horse. The stable hand made it seem like your horse wasn’t part of the elite, which made you like her more.

On the way to the stables, you used your military expertise to get past the men. You didn’t need Angus to find out you lied to him. A few drunken clansmen tried to take advantage of you being an alone woman. This immediately made you pissed for the lady folk in the area, the amount of women who had to be assaulted made you sick. One guy had gotten a swipe at you and your lip was bleeding. You made it to the stables, nursing your lip. You were going to take your time getting back to the surgery, this was probably the safest place for you outside your surgery space. Lost in your thoughts of consequences, you tripped over a mass. You rolled onto your back with a knife in hand, pressing it to the neck of a person and they were doing the same to you, “Deoiridh.” Jamie immediately released you, sitting up to give you space, “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same to you, sir,” you shot back at him. Your temper was rising with the amount of times you had to keep your guide up during this time period. Jamie stared at you a little longer than you liked, he was hoping for a better answer, “I was checking on my horse for the hunt. I have a soft spot for her and I wanted to drop off my stuff now, so I wouldn’t have to have hungover Angus complaining in the morning.”

Jamie chuckled to himself, “Thoughtful lass.” He paused for a second, “Y/N, you alright?” He put his hand up, leaning in closer to get a look at your bleeding lip, “Did that just happen,” he asked with guilt seeping off his voice.

He took out some cloth and tried to dab at your lip, “I had an issue coming over here with some clansmen,” you mumbled, trying to find the right words. You didn’t need Jamie telling Collum of your violent assault to some of their men. You didn’t kill them, but they will probably be concussed and be missing the hunt the next day.

He shot up, “Did they,” he pulled you up to closer inspect you.

You pushed him back gently, “No, no.” You hesitated and tried to figure out the best way to share it with him, “I knocked them out before anything could happen.”

Jamie’s laugh filled the room, finally dulling down to lean against the horses pen, “You’re a deadly woman Deoiridh. I’ve seen you teaching some stuff to the kids, but I didn’t think you could take out Mackenzie men without more than a busted lip. You sure your alright,” he tried to cup you neck again to look closer at your lip.

His hands were rough, but it a way you’ve never felt. It was like your body was on fire, but wanting to crave more it. Electricity surges your body, “I’m fine,” you whispered, “I’ve had plenty worse.”

“These men are lucky you got to them first,” he said trying to relax his jaw. You should tell a piece of him was bothered by you being attacked. Something inside him wanted to crash out of the stables and slaughter the men who would do such damage to his friend, at least that’s what you were telling yourself.

“Murtagh mentioned you weren’t going to the ceremony for the gathering,” you reached into your bag, “I was going to stop by your hut, residence place,” you weren’t sure what to call his little bed area. You passed him some food from the kitchen.

He shook his head, “Again with the thoughtfulness, you seem to care an awful lot about my wellbeing.”

“Shut up,” you shove him as he laughs at you. You could see he was trying to get a raise out of you since you pushed him to talk to Laoghaire, “You’re my friend Jamie. You were the first one who was nice to me here, well before you tossed me over your shoulder and proceeded to act like chauvinistic tool.”

He grinned at you, “Well, you are probably the most unique, thoughtful, and caring women I know. Besides when you are prodding me and calling me mean names.” He put the bag of food down next to his makeshift bed, “We should get you back to the castle, I bet Angus won’t be taken to kindly to your journey to the stables.”

“I can get back on my own. Murtagh told me to leave you alone, something about the ceremony, which is none of my business,” you mumbled away, trying to push whatever you are feeling way down. “I took down three clansmen and you, I think I can get back on my own,” you look down at Jamie sitting on the ground.

He pulled himself up towering over you, “Me,” he questioned, “I think I’d remember you taking me anywhere,” he pulled your shawl tighter to your body. “Now let’s go, me walking you back is not up for debate.”

You rolled your eyes and jogged up next to him, “Suit yourself, but Murtagh doesn’t like me enough as it is. If you get caught or whatever, I’m not to blame you tell him that.”

Jamie stopped you at the door, leaning in close to your face to whisper, “Murtagh likes you plenty, believe me if he didn’t like you he’d ignore you. Now let’s go before you get me caught.”

“Jamie,” you whispered harshly, holding tightly on the back of his shirt waddling after him. With your face slightly pressed to his back as you both giggled out the stables, there was something about his smell. You’d assumed he’d smell like most rotting, sweating men. Being in the marines and being in the desert for long periods of time, you were pretty much used to it. But it was different with Jamie, your psychology background pushed towards his manly man pheromones. You pushed those thoughts away and tipped toed with Jamie through the McKenzie camp. You and Jamie got back to your work space without Angus knowing any different. You stood at the bottom of your stairs, looking up at the now ever more towering Jamie, who was grinning down at you, “Do you think you can get back without being caught, remember what I said about Murtagh, you wanted me to be nice and make friends?”

He looked down, trying to hold back his amused expression, “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

“When are you going to tell me why you are avoiding being seen during the gathering, aren’t they your family,” you questioned, trying to change the subject to something less flirty.

“It’s a bit complicated, maybe one day I’ll tell you. But for now, I’m off before I get you into trouble with Murtagh. You should go up and spend some time with the clan, it might be worth learning a bit more,” he gestured up the stair. He leaned closer again, “Maybe you can butter up Murtagh, get on his sweet side.”

“What sweet side,” you countered. Jamie shook his head, trying his best to not be amused by you, “Plus, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He isn’t really my type.”

The look he gave you in that moment was something you rarely got to see in men, “What exactly is your type.”

“Not a dumb brute really, I’m not a picky woman,” you shrug walking further away from Jamie’s glances.

“That I don’t believe for a second. Try to stay out of trouble, hate you save you from Angus again,” Jamie started to make his way up the stairs.

“Jamie,” you call up to him, he turns to look at you one more time before he gets on his way to his hide away, “I never need saving.” Again, he held back a smirk, before trying back up the stairs again. You didn’t know how he did it, but you got to you again with those stupid hidden smiles and teasing. It’s like he knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of you.  

Part 9

 Taglist:  @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher

#Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser x reader #jamie frazier x reader #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #sam heughan

[ye4gerismarchives]

the bachelorette: the wedding

an: h-hey guys😅 a whole month w/o rhe bachelorette. y’all prolly forgot about it. fortunately, i haven’t😭 sorry yall, i’ve been up all night for the past month reading about nasty white men instead of writing for the bachelorette. this chapter has 4768 words, so i guess that’s a plus.

tags: black, fem reader. i don’t have any triggers off my head, if something does trigger you, do let me know

taglist: @taybird

5:00 am

You had plans to send Levi to his grave. How dare he wake you up at like four in the morning only to start your makeup and hair an hour later? The makeup and hair team were completely respectful towards you and respected your space, considering today was going to be full of emotions.

As your face was getting beat, there was a knock at the door. The makeup artist working on your face stopped so that you could address the person at the door. "If your name is Levi, don't bother coming in," you say. The door opens and your heart jumps because

Her Royal Highness Princess Historia and her girlfriend, Ymir, were in YOUR room.

"Oh sh*t, Your Royal Highness," you let out. Members of your team start to curtsy and bow to Historia. Ymir stands awkwardly behind her. She must have been getting used to the royal bs around her.

You stand to curtsy as well but Historia raises a hand to stop you. "Today is all about you. Ymir and I are going to be your bridesmaids today! Levi called us and we decided we would support you today!" she says cheerfully.

So, Levi probably wasn't going to die today. Now, you couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him but you still side eyes him. He was a powerful guy- you were still under the impression that he said something to Mikasa during the show and caused her unusual behavior.

"O-Oh?"

"Yeah! Ymir and I will get changed but we'll see you in your dress."

And with that, the princess and her girl left your room. It was like a dream.

5:30 am

Weeks before the wedding came, you went dress shopping. However, it didn't go how you wanted it to go. Ideally, you would be dress shopping with Sasha, Mikasa, and Connie. There was no way in hell you would call Sasha and ask her to go with you. You called Connie, who refused to pick up. You thought about calling Mikasa but you felt uneasy about it. So, Levi and his husband, Erwin, went with you.

Erwin was a complete angel. He asked you respectful questions about your life and even made you laugh. Spending time with Erwin made you realized how...dark Levi was and even made you question why they were even together. But your thoughts couldn't stop you from seeing how Levi melted under Erwin's touch. They loved each other. You hoped that You and Jean would be like that.

With their help, you managed to pick the perfect dress.

Slipping it on for the second time was just as magical as it was the first. Your team awed and cooed over how beautiful you looked. Historia and Ymir entered in matching pink outfits and immediately started fawning over how good you looked.

You felt your face redden up and you couldn't help but smile. But all of that went away when a familiar face entered.

"You...you look good, y/n."

"Mikasa...what are you doing here?"

Mikasa was standing in front of you in the same pink color that Ymir and Historia were in but her outfit was a sleeveless wide-legged jumpsuit. Her bangs were brushed away from her face and the rest of her hair sat behind her ears- well, mostly.

"Levi called me. He apologized for everything and told me to come over to apologize to you too. And then he forced me to be your maid of honor," Mikasa explained.

Levi forcing her to come over sounded like him but apologizing? He must have realized he went too far, especially since Mikasa was his niece. Levi was too caught up in creating and entertaining drama that he probably forgot Mikasa's relation to him.

So, you decided to let everything go.

You walk towards Mikasa with arms open and she's shocked but she doesn't hesitate to envelop you in her arms are well.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I know was so out of line. I'll never let any man get in the way of our friendship again," Mikasa said as she squeezed you harder.

"Same here. If things don't work out with Jean, I'll marry you instead," you joke. You can feel Mikasa's laughter vibrate against your neck. She pulls away first and you proceed to ask another question. "Have you been in touch with Sasha?"

Mikasa purses her lips and shakes her head. "She's been radio silent. I can't tell if she got more backlash than me. She's off social media and just unwilling to speak with anyone. The hate probably got to her and she's just hiding for now."

You weren't too surprised. Mikasa was doing a job- a terrible one- but Sasha went out of her way to sleep with one of your guys...but she was drunk. You could imagine Sasha being the most discussed and debated online. Without speaking to her, you wouldn't know what was really going on in her mind.

"Oh! You never said hi to Princess Historia or Ymir. They're my bridesmaids for the day," you point out. The color leaves Mikasa's face when she realizes who's in the room with her. "Sh*t. Your Royal Highness," Mikasa curtsies. Historia lets out one of her signature giggles and begins to introduce herself and Ymir to Mikasa. As that goes on, your team starts helping you with your dress again.

You were slightly glad Mikasa was by your side today. The situation between the both of you was awkward but you were willing to give her another chance.

7:30 am

In the last two hours, you've done photoshoots and chat with everyone around you. Now it was time for Jean to be yours and for you to be his. You did question the early wedding time that Levi gave you but this would probably be the last time you saw that man so let's just let him do what he wants.

You were visibly nervous. You were gripping onto Mikasa's hand like it would be your last time doing so. "Hey, just remember, he's not your real husband. At least for now. This is all show," Mikasa reminds you. She was right. Jean may have been romantic with you but also he got his hour of fame, he could possibly leave you. Maybe he would get married to Connie.

You started to take a few deep breaths as you pulled up in front of the venue. Levi had rented a beach (not the one you and Connie were on) for your wedding.

From what you could see in the car, there were multiple seats and people were filling them up. You hoped that Connie's family had no ill-feeling toward you and decided to show up. It would be a shame since you were caught on television talking about how you would love for them to be there.

Your car came to a slow end. "y/n, do not worry. Remember, THIS is all fake. Only you decide if it's real," Mikasa reminds you. Levi opens your door and offers his hand to you. "It's go time." Mikasa helped you with your veil making sure that it wouldn't hit the ground.

"y/n, I know I may have been a menace but I'm happy for you. You might have had the most popular season yet," he says. Him bringing up ratings was no shock to you. You don't reply and Levi have his moment.

You like to think that Jean would like to spend the rest of his life with you. You knew that wasn't the case with many Bachelorettes and Bachelors but you look at Levi and Erwin...ah well, that wasn't a good example, considering that Erwin wasn't a contestant. He was the previous host. 'CALM DOWN,' you tell yourself, 'YOU AND JEAN WILL BE GOOD. AND IF HE DOESN'T LIKE YOU, ITS WHATEVER BECAUSE I'M THE BEST THING EVER.'

Minutes later, you're at the end of the aisle. Jean has his back turned and he's pacing back and forth slightly. Next to him is Connie. You know this because you recognize his big egg head. You're happy he put everything aside to support the both of you.

Mikasa takes her place in front of you and the music starts. Levi offers you his arm and you take it.

This was really happening.

You looked into the audience with a smile on your face but everything was moving so fast, you couldn't recognize their faces.

Before you knew it, you were by Jean. He still couldn't look at you- not until Levi gave you away. The marriage officiant clears his throat and begins to talk.

"We are gathered here today to witness the union of Jean and y/n. Welcome friends and family! We're glad to have you with us.

Today is the beginning of a remarkable journey for this couple. Drawing on their mutual admiration, respect, and trust, they are ready to embark on the next chapter in their lives. We celebrate the love and light evident in their relationship and wish them well on this joyous occasion.

Who gives this woman away?"

"I do," Levi answers. He takes Jean's hand and places it on top of yours. Jean then moves his under yours so that he could hold it. He looks down at Levi and mouths 'Thank you'. The shorter male nods and takes a seat.

The officiant gives you and Jean a moment to face each other. Jean had the biggest smile on his face when his eyes landed on you. "You look gorgeous," he whispers. "You're not so bad yourself," you reply.

The officiant continues. "If anyone has cause to object to the forming of this union, speak now or forever hold your peace." You look over Jean's shoulder to see Connie. You couldn't see his whole face, thanks to Jean's height, but you could see his eyes. They were narrowed and looking straight at you.

You wanted to feel bad, but you couldn't. YOU decided that Connie would not be your spouse, and that was final.

No one responded to the officiant's request, so he continued.

"Marriage is an integral part of the human tradition. Let us remember, as we stand here before the Universe, that the vows taken today hold great importance, just as they did to our ancestors. As individuals, we choose to enter the union of marriage to share all aspects of ourselves with our soulmate. Today, this is true for Jean and y/n."

Soulmate. You hoped that was true for you and Jean. You did meet him on a tv show.

"There are few greater joys in life than finding someone with whom we truly "click." In that spirit, I will now share a short reading on soulmates from author Richard Bach:

"A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we're safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we're two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we've found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life."

Under the eyes of Ymir, together we take a moment to acknowledge the seriousness of the commitment being entered into today. With great joy, we also recognize the special bond shared by Jean and y/n.."

This...this was a special bond indeed. Not only that, it was completely random. The next part of the wedding was your vows. The next part of solidifying your relationship.

"I will now invite the couple to share their vows. Jean and y/n, the promises you make today are sacred; they are the groundwork from which your marriage will grow and blossom over time.

Jean, would you like to begin first?"

Jean nods and squeezes your hands. "y/n, hopefully by the end of this ceremony, you will be my wife. I know there's a lot that you're worried about but I'll do everything to make you happy. I'll always protect you and keep you satisfied."

"y/n, your turn."

"Jean. I'm not too sure what to say...you've out-speeched me," you joke. Jean chuckled. "But...I too promise to love and protect you. I'll also make sure we're on the same page because that's very important for our relationship. I'm willing to fight for us."

You look at the officiant, letting him know that you were done.

"Let us proceed. Jean, before your family and friends, do you take y/n as your beloved Wife, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?"

Jean is silent for a moment. He's rubbing the back of your right hand and staring straight into your eyes- almost as if he was reevaluating everything. This made you nervous. Jean was a smart guy. You know you couldn't hold him down and force him to do anything he didn't want.

"I...I do," he finally answers. The weight on your chest dissolves.

"y/n, before your family and friends, do you take Jean as your beloved Husband, to have and to hold, through laughter and in sadness, through challenges and successes, so long as you both shall live?"

"Yes, I do," you answer quickly. You hear small laughs coming from the audience.

The officiant gives you a small smile before continuing. "Wedding rings are a traditional symbol of the strength of the bond between two soulmates."  Connie comes from behind Jean with the wedding bands and gave you both one.

"This bond is never broken, and continues in a perpetual circle, glowing with the warmth and eternal light of two souls in a perfect union. By wearing these rings, you will be always reminded of the connection you share and the vows you have made today. Jean, please, repeat after me;

I, Jean..."

"I, Jean..."

"present you, y/n, with this ring..."

"present you, y/n, with this ring..."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love."

"Let it never lose its luster..."

"Let it never lose its luster..."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

Jean, still gently holding your hand, slips the ring on (whatever finger your culture uses for weddings!). He can't help but admire it for a moment. He looks back up at you with the biggest grin. All you had to do was place the ring on his finger and your marriage would be "official".

"y/n, repeat after me. I, y/n..."

"I, y/n..."

"present you, Jean, with this ring..."

"present you, Jean, with this ring..."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love..."

"as a symbol of our everlasting love..."

"let it never lose its luster..."

"let it never lose its luster..."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

"just as my love for you will never fade."

You slip the ring onto Jean's left finger.

"By the power vested in me by the Ymir Life Church and Paradis, under the eyes of the Ymir, I happily pronounce you Husband and Wife! Jean, kiss your bride."

At that moment, everyone disappeared. It was just you and Jean. Jean places a hand on your waist and pulls you in. You find your hands riding up his chest and resting on his shoulder as you get closer. You and Jean connect and all of sudden, you're not in that bubble anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time, I give you Mr. Kirstein and Mrs. l/n!!."

You and Jean left together as "spouses". The first thing you did was official wedding photoshoots that were to be spread all over Paradis and all over the world- thanks to social media. Y'all kinda look like Meghan and Harry tbh.

Anyway.

You both got an opportunity to change in your reception outfits. After that, it was another car ride to the reception venue. Jean held your hand and couldn't stop talking about how beautiful you looked. You were so flustered, you couldn't get a response out. When you reached the venue, the driver helped out first and Jean slipped out of the car after you. He took your hand and entered the reception venue with you.

When you entered the dining hall, you were welcomed by cheers and claps. It was extremely overwhelming- not in a bad sense, however. You looked around the room and caught some familiar faces. You saw Bertholdt and Reiner sitting at a table with another unfamiliar girl. Across the room, Mikasa is seated with Connie, Historia, and Ymir. Everyone else is family that Levi most likely reached out to.

You and Jean take a seat and the cheering calms down. You lean on Jean's shoulder and sigh. The day wasn't over yet, but you were already so tired. Jean places his head on top of yours. "I can't wait to just be with you. I don't know what you had planned tonight but to be honest, I just want to sleep. I haven't realized how tired I was until now," Jean says quietly. "I have to agree. Let's just take a shower, cuddle and just pass out."

Jean brings his head up and smirks at you. "A shower? Together?" You only roll your eyes jokingly. "Oh, look, I think Levi is gonna call us up to have our first dance." "Don't worry, I'll get my answer sooner or later, y/n. You can't run from me." Jean pokes your arm teasingly, which causes you to squirm a little bit. Levi calls you up and Jeans takes your hand to lead you to the dance floor.

(Song of your choice) starts playing and you're not even sure where to start. Jean has a hand on your waist and is holding your free hand. You have a hand on his shoulders. "I'm not even sure where to start, we never practiced," you whisper. Jean smiles softly. "Don't worry about it. We're in this together aren't we?" He begins to move, taking full control. You stumble a bit but your reception dress hides your clumsiness. After a bit, you weren't stumbling anymore. You rest your head on Jean's shoulder and he pulls you even closer. Your movements get even slower. The music slowly disappeared and so did everyone else. It was just you and Jean.

When the music actually came to an end, you pulled away slowly. "You did great," Jean says softly. "So did you." You both go back to your seats. Waiters started to come out and take everyone's orders for dinners and started to pour drinks- meaning a toast would be coming up.

Mikasa comes up to the dance floor and awkwardly clanks her glass, trying to get everyone's attention. Everyone turned their heads and it wasn't because of the awkward clanking of the glass. There were some 'What the hell is she doing here?'s and 'Eren's b*tch?'s. You could visibly see Mikasa's nervousness so you attempted to lock eyes with her. It took her a while but she could finally look you in the eye. Mikasa clears her throat. "Um, hi. You're probably wondering why I'm here but today is not about me. It's about y/n and Jean. I was once y/n's closets friends until I was pressured to do something that I wouldn't normally do." Mikasa gives Levi a side-eye. The shrimp man crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

"y/n is absolutely amazing...I can't really put it into words but there's something about her that just make people want to be around her. I can see why Jean fought so hard to be with her."

Jean squeezes your hand when she makes that comment.

"I often think to myself about how y/n could have easily met Jean at a café or a movie theatre or something rather than on TV show. But at the same time, this was good for her...and all of us. Here we discovered the lengths of our friendship and who we really were as people. I believe these ups and downs helped y/n find Jean- her true love. Honestly, I wish you both a happy future. Make it worth it."

Mikasa raises her glass and everyone clinks their glass with their neighbors. Connie begins to walk up to the dance floor as soon as Mikasa leaves.

"I'm going to be really honest with you. This is was unexpected. I honestly thought that today was going to be about me." Connie raises his eyebrows at Jean, who furrows them.

"But I guess it's a good thing I didn't marry y/n. I wouldn't have been enough to handle. So, congrats to you, Jean. You're tolerable."

Connie gets off the dance floor without giving you or Jean a look. You look at Jean and he's hurt. "H-hey...maybe he's drunk or something. In his feelings, you know? Don't let him make you feel bad," you say. Jean gives you a small smile before sipping down his drink.

Moments later, it was time for parent dances. Jean got up to dance with his mom. It was a little bit uncoordinated than yours but they looked like they were having a lot of fun.

Next was the bouquet and garter toss. You started with the garter first. You sat in a chair with your legs cross. You knew this was going to happen but it wasn't rehearsed. Jean could see your uneasiness, so he started doing a silly sensual dance. It made you laugh and your laughter got louder once he started shimming down to the floor. He got closer to your thigh and you felt your face heating up. You slapped your hand over your mouth once he starting biting the garter and pulling it off. As he continued, you cupped your face. When Jean was finally day, cheers erupted and you uncovered your hot face. Jean closes his eyes and throws the garter into the crowd and it lands in the hands of Reiner. The guys cheer even louder for him as he awkwardly glances over at Bertholdt, who is a few people away from him.

Next was the bouquet throwing. You closed your eyes and the guest counted you off. Once you heard the number three, you threw the bouquet. You open your eyes and turn around to see that Bertholdt had gotten the flowers. His face is so red...he look like a tomato.

After your guest settled down, it was time to cut your cake, meaning that your wedding day was almost over. You picked a (cake of your choice) for tonight. "It looks delicious. I can't wait to try it," Jean whispers in your ear. "It is. You'll love it," you respond. You pick up a knife. Jean wraps his hands around yours. You both gently place the knife on the cake and pushed it down. You lean back to give Jean a kiss and he gives you one. Jean grabs two forks by the cake and hands one over to you.

Jean scoops a piece of the cake first. He places a hand on your chin and you open your mouth. "Ladies first," he says as he places the cake in your mouth. You take a minute to savor the taste before swallowing. You also take a piece of the cake and get on your toes to feed Jean. He chuckles softly at your struggle before taking the fork from you and feeding himself. "You're right, it's good," he says after swallowing. He bends down slightly to give you another kiss.

The night was slowly coming to an end. There was no sight of Connie after his stupid speech and Levi and Erwin were getting ready to get home. Historia and Ymir had left right after the cake cutting ceremony but had promised to call you once everything had settled down. You and Jean formally greeted your guest and started your goodbyes.

Mikasa had gone up to you with a slightly awkward face. "Today wasn't so bad, huh?" she starts. You give her a kind smile. "It wasn't. Did you enjoy yourself?" Mikasa pauses to answer. "Your wedding was beautiful...however, I can't get upset over the reaction about me being here. y/n, I have to apologize again. What I did was completely wrong. I shouldn't even be blaming Levi for everything. I could have told you at first and-"

You pull Mikasa into a hug to shut her up. "Mikasa, move on. Come on, we're adults! At least you're apologizing and trying- unlike someone we know," you joke. You pull away. "Hopefully, if Jean and I have a real wedding, it won't be as awkward for you." Mikasa nods. "I'll see you around. Congrats." As Mikasa walks off, Reiner, Bert, and this mystery blonde come up to you. Inside Reiner's pocket is your garter sticking out and Bertholdt is clenching your bouquet.

"Hey," you start," Thank you for coming. Who's your friend?"

Bertholdt looks over at the blonde. "Thank you for inviting us...um...this is Annie. My dad thought you were her."

Now, why did Bertie's dad think you was this yt girl?😟

LMAO. "Nice to keep you, Annie. You Bertie's girl?" you ask.

Annie shakes her head no frantically. "OH, NO. Never in a million years, no. Yuck!" she answers dramatically. Reiner throws an arm over Bert's shoulder. "He's actually my boy now," he says proudly. "OH-! Congrats! So we're having a wedding for you soon, yes?" You tease. Reiner nods and Bertie tries to hide his face in Reiner's hair. "When did this all happen...? I just eliminated you like...two weeks ago?"

"Well...Reiner and I were still in contact and when I left, he reached out to me. We met up a few times and we hit it off," Bertie explains. "Congrats. I'm really happy to hear that," you answer. You turn around to look for Jean. He's talking to his mom. He gives you a small glance before continuing his conversation with her. "I better go catch up with Jean. It was nice to see you...and finally meeting you, Annie." The trio say their goodbyes before leaving.

You make your way over to Jean but you're stopped by the human fit of annoyance- Levi. You were so tired of him but you threw on a smile since Erwin was walking over as well. "Yes, Levi? I thought we were done here," you say in a singsong voice. "Aw, you're ready to go?" Levi says sarcastically. You open your mouth to answer but he cuts you off. "For starters, thank you for adding on to mine and Erwin's paychecks. We really appreciate it. Arrangements for your hotel and honeymoon have been put together. You're tired of me, but don't hesitate to call me if something goes wrong. Besides that, I wish you luck. Make everything worth it."

Levi walks past you and Erwin stops to hug you before following his husband.

Jean makes his way up to you, his mom following behind. "Everything good? I saw shrimp talking to you." You take Jean's hand. "Everything's good." Jean pulls you into a side hug. "Aw, you guys are so cute. I really do hope you last," Jean's mom comments, "I've always wanted a daughter."

"Mom, nothing's official yet-"

"I'm glad you think of me as your daughter, June."

"Well, I'll see you later. Jean, take care of her tonight. Be good to her and listen to her. Don't be rough, she's not a rag doll," June warned her son. She had a finger up in his face and everything. Seeing their relationship on the regular was going going to be hilarious.

Jean swats his mom's finger out of his face before waving her goodbye. He then fully wraps his arms around you. "No offense. But I'm glad this is over. We'll get to know each other one on one now," he says. You can't help but agree.

ITS FINALLY OVER. well not exactly. i have one more chapter to write and y’all will never hear about levi, 12 guys, and dates ever again😭 but since this series has reached its goal (you getting married) please do me a favor and rate my series, it would be appreciated!

#black!reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x black! reader #jean x black!reader #jean x reader #bertholdt x reader #connie spinger x reader #onyankopon x reader #eren x reader #reiner x reader #aot x reader #floch x reader #porco x reader #colt grice x reader #nicolo x reader #armin arlert x reader

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 3)

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

For @thatesqcrush​​’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Mistletoe square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Rough-ish hate-sex, mild degradation. Enthusiastic but dubious consent! They both want what’s happening but Bryan is reader’s boss who coerced her into the date and reader is now (half-jokingly?) blackmailing him. It’s super healthy 🙃 

5,400 words

Bryan wished he were drunk.

He reclined in a leather armchair, a warm weight in his lap. He stared intently and with disinterest at the embroidery on the edge of a red Christmas stocking hung above the fireplace in his parents’ living room while his tiny nieces and nephews giggled at holiday movies.

If he had been drunk, he would at least have an excuse for his behavior tonight.

No, not for making a dozen paralegal nobodies miss Christmas, leveraging his authority to coerce you into doing a personal favor, or introducing NC-17 language to a family dinner. Those were all par for the course for the most ruthless litigator at STR Laurie.

It was the particular favor he had coerced you into—asking you to pose as the MILF he’d been banging when she dumped him via text on Christmas Eve.

Just so he wouldn’t have to explain why Sydney wasn’t with him. 

Just so he wouldn’t be alone for the long drive.

Fucking brilliant.

Now his most obstinate, irritating, antagonistic employee knew about Sydney, knew how attached he’d gotten, had met his mother, and seen photos of him getting a bubble bath in the sink. (He loved his mom, but sometimes he wondered about murder.) Making you do such a humiliating favor seemed like a good way to finally control you. But his upper hand was quickly reversed.

You were right. The whole thing was pathetic.

Still, you were playing along better than he could have expected.

The strangest part was, you fit in with his family so much better than Sydney would have. She was hot, but honestly, dumb as a brick, and as difficult as Bryan himself. He had a better time with you. The way you gently teased him, commiserating with his family over what a pain in the ass he could be. The way you smiled so naturally… he saw how things could have been with Syd. With someone who called out his bullshit, but cared about him anyway.

It was a shame you were just pretending.

Try opening your heart sometime.

Fuck that.

He didn’t need to open up more. He needed to get back to the Bryan Kneef he used to be before some bitch fucked with his heart. He needed to get Syd out of his fucking mind and replace her with someone else. Anyone else.

He needed to fuck someone.

And you…

His attention turned to the weight in his lap.

You were there.

*****

When did the pretend little gestures start getting to you? Start feeling enough like real affection that there was a lonely ache in your stomach?

You fucking hated Bryan Kneef.

But there you were, your fingers tangled in his beard when no one was even watching.

You’d been sitting on Bryan’s lap for what felt like hours—you could probably figure out how many based on the number of Christmas movies that had played and how many of the children had gone off to bed in various guestrooms.

Now the fire in the hearth was burning low, and only the adults remained hanging around in the living room.

His hands were wrapped around your waist, and you had gotten so comfortable, you were practically nodding off to sleep against his chest. Bryan was getting more comfortable, too. You idly stroked his beard, and he didn’t disguise the way he nuzzled into your hand.

The private whispers you shared started as touchy warnings not to screw up your “Sydney” act and counter-threats to expose him if he crossed a line. But that invisible line kept moving, and the whispers became more like the sweet nothings between lovers they were meant to resemble.

He even started stroking your hair. Bryan Kneef, gently running his fingers over your scalp. It was a Christmas miracle.

You might have drifted off in his arms, except for one major distraction—the bulge pressing against your ass.

“What the hell is that?” you asked, close to his ear.

“My dick.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Stupid question, then.”

“Fuck you.”

“Want to?”

You accidentally let out a heady sigh instead of an offended gasp, and his hand moved a little higher, slipping under your knit sweater, grazing over your belly. You meant to tell him to fuck off. Really. You should have told him to cut it out. But the problem was, you didn’t want him to.

“My offer’s still on the table,” he murmured. “Since you’ve been such a good girl tonight. You deserve a reward.”

Being called a good girl did something to you, even though it was—or maybe because it was—somewhat demeaning. Your skin prickled. You swallowed the dryness in your throat. Your skin felt too hot… much too hot, and his thick cock was still trapped firmly between his hips and your ass. His offered reward.

“Y-yeah, I deserve a medal of honor.”

For what, again? For helping out your coworkers? They were already home with their families—you didn’t have to stay this long.

Maybe continuing the charade was just more fun than sitting in your apartment eating Chinese takeout. You accused Bryan of being lonely, but the truth was, you were the one who had nowhere to be tonight—everyone you cared about was half a country away. And your horny, irrational side wanted to feel that cock without so much clothing in the way. Wanted to feel exactly how a selfish asshole like Bryan would ravage you with it.

He would devour you like the big bad wolf…

“That wasn’t a no,” he observed, his beard tickling your ear.

“Shut up!” you hissed back, loud enough to draw attention.

He chuckled, and you felt the vibrations of his chest at your back. “Yes, kitten.”

To his credit, Bryan didn’t try anything further. His hands behaved themselves, chastely stroking your hair, and eventually his erection returned to its pre-arousal size. You had been on his lap for a long time, your ass grinding against his groin whenever you shifted. It was a natural, physical reaction… That was all.

The fact that it felt so good you were soaking through your panties was just natural biology, as well.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Bryan Kneef was the worst boss you ever had. He had no respect for his subordinates (or for anybody—you recalled the deposition in which he’d told a name partner of Reddick, Boseman & Lockhart to “call her own ass”). The fact that he was handsome just made you hate him more.

But god, his lap was warm. The smell of his cologne, and the steady rhythm of his breath…

You got to see a human side to him tonight. The way he acted with people he couldn’t treat like shit. A private side no one who knew him professionally—and you doubted any of the fifty-two other women he hooked up with per year—ever got to see. You were peeking behind the curtain of his life, and it made Bryan squirm. It was kind of cute. And your wild, horny side was clawing at the inside of your brain to give in to all the lewd promises he kept whispering.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK!

*****

Martha yawned and patted her husband’s knee. “Well, us old folks are going to bed. Feel free to stay as late as you like, just turn the TV off when you go. No one’s in your bedroom if you do decide to stay over,” she added. “I’m making waffles in the morning.”

You swiveled your head around at the empty couches and realized it was just you, Bryan, and his parents left in the living room. Everyone else had gone home or gone up to bed. Bryan had been so cranky about wanting to leave right after dinner, but after you settled onto his lap, neither of you had found a reason to move.

Bryan stood and dumped you unceremoniously off his lap—you barely stuck the landing. He stretched.

“Nah, we’d better head out, too. Thanks for dinner, ma.” He kissed her cheek and hugged her and his dad goodbye. “Get your things, Syd,” he snapped.

Sounded like girlfriend-duty was over. Good. You could stop pretending to like him.

Good.

“Be nice,” Martha chided, batting him on the arm. “Go help her find her coat; she doesn’t know the way around.”

Bryan put his hand on the small of your back and led you through an archway to the entrance hall.

His father cackled as you passed through it. “Look up!”

Mistletoe.

Bryan glanced up at the bundle of mistletoe without moving his head, so it looked like he was rolling his eyes. Then he looked at you and quirked a brow. You let out an awkward laugh, which he took to mean kissing was not part of the deal.

“It’s depraved that you want to make your children kiss,” he said dryly. “You do this to Tim and Steve, too?”

“We did, and it was adorable.”

“It’s tradition! Kiss. Kiss!”

“We are not going to kiss for you like trained monkeys,” said Bryan.

His parents passed under the arch and pecked each other’s lips.

“I love you, dear,” said his mom to his dad.

“Love you, too,” said his dad to his mom.

“No,” said Bryan.

“’ Night, peanut.” Martha pinched his cheek, and she and her husband took their perfectly hideous matching holiday sweaters upstairs.

“There,” Bryan sighed as his parents’ bedroom door clicked shut. “That wraps it up. Good work tonight.” Genuine praise from Mr. Kneef was rare, and sent a strange flush of heat between your legs. He turned toward the closet to fetch your coat, but you caught his wrist. He turned back to you.

“It is tradition…”

“Is it now?” His eyes narrowed, and a confident smirk turned the corners of his lips. He stepped closer, dangerously into your space, pushing you back against the corridor wall. “We wouldn’t want to defy tradition...”

Fuck, fuck—what were you doing?

His scent was overpowering and masculine, his presence overwhelming your senses, making him seem so much taller than he was as he shadowed you from the overhead light. You grabbed the front of his cashmere sweater and pulled. His lips crashed into yours, as hungry and fierce as you dreamed they’d be. There was no slow mounting of intensity—the moment his mouth was on yours it was fighting for dominance, wet and hot, his tongue forcing your lips open, not giving you a second to catch your breath. He tasted like cocoa and peppermint. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and you felt it in yours, his tongue was buried so deeply down it. You wrapped your arms behind his neck, tangling your fingers in his salt-and-pepper hair, drawing his weight down on you, letting him trap you against the wall. Someone was making a pathetic high-pitched whimper, and you realized it was you, desperately clawing at his sweater to grab more of him, rocking your hips forward until he reciprocated and his erection pushed against the aching heat between your legs.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, lips drenched and throbbing from his aggressive technique. His hand was unabashedly cupping your ass, rolling the fat of it in his palm.

Oh, fuck.

No. No, no, no. He’s an asshole. A shallow jerk, and you hate him. You were not supposed to give him the satisfaction of seducing you.

He brought a hand to your face, holding it firm to keep you looking at him. His green eyes were dark with lust and energetic with desire. He lowered his face to yours and licked the saliva off your mouth. You shuddered, hips twitching forward into his cock.

Then again, it wasn’t like this meant you had feelings for him. He certainly didn’t have any for you. This was about sex. About your satisfaction. What was so wrong about fucking your boss?

The same dominating, shameless personality that made him a nightmare to work for would be right up your alley in bed. You wanted those big hands all over you, holding you down. That filthy mouth degrading you. You wanted him to call you kitten and sweetheart while he had his way with you.

His big hand was still holding your face, his lips still breathing your air as they hovered over yours.

That was it. The floodgates were open, and there was no closing them again. The wild, wanton part of you won out and took control. There would be no more rational decisions tonight.

“Can I have my reward now… Mr. Kneef?”

“Yeah?” he breathed against your lips, still pinning you. “You want the medal of honor?”

“Fuck you.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you up the master staircase, down a hallway, and pushed you into a bedroom.

As soon as the door was closed behind you, his demeanor shifted slightly. His strong hands were pawing at your ass, roving under your clothing, but he pulled his head back when you tried to kiss him. “You sure you want to do this? To be clear, this is not part of our arrangement—I don’t want to hear from HR later that I forced you to fuck me.”

“I plan to leave this part out of the complaint I’m filing.”

“Good to know you’re still filing it.” He pinched one of your nipples through your bra to punctuate the thought. You tried not to melt in his hands.

“Maybe that depends on your performance,” you purred, letting a slow, wicked smile spread over your lips. “You’d better fuck me like your job depends on it, Mr. Kneef.”

“Treacherous little bitch,” he growled. “I like this side of you. You just tell daddy exactly how you want it...” His teeth grazed your ear. A flight of goosebumps broke out over the back of your neck.

“Oh, fuck… I want that nasty fucking attitude of yours. You never hold back, never have any respect for anyone—I bet you like giving it hard, don’t you?” You pulled his hips toward you and snapped yours against them.

“Is that what you want? You like it rough?” His fingers tangled in your hair and pulled your head back, exposing your neck. His lips were hot and his beard scratchy as he sucked a mark onto the soft skin of your throat while you moaned.

“Yeah. I want you to use me. Think you can do that?” you challenged, only a slight hitch to your breath betraying what his mouth was making you feel.

Despite the soft domesticity of your performed cuddling earlier, you could only imagine Bryan one way. And soft wasn’t it. One tolerable night didn��t mean you liked him… but it was kind of hotter if you didn’t. You had your own frustrations to work out.

The big bad wolf could fuck you hard enough to forget you were alone on Christmas.

“I think I can handle it.” He pulled harder and sucked another mark, this time enough to leave a bruise.

You let a moan slip out, grateful it was the time of year you could get away with wearing a scarf all week until those faded… because you wanted more—a whole little collection from Bryan Kneef’s filthy mouth.

“I knew you were a slut deep down…” He found the hem of your sweater and yanked it off over your head in one motion. “Having such filthy thoughts about your boss is naughty behavior,” he tutted. “Santa’s going to bring you coal.”

“And what about sexually harassing your employee?” You cocked an eyebrow, using the temporary space between you to posture with your hands on your hips defiantly.

“You’ve got no case for that one, sweetheart,” he chuckled darkly, stroking your cheek with unsettling fondness. “You barged into my private office and asked me out for drinks. Sounds like you’re just a slut.”

You glowered at him incredulously because… he wasn’t… wrong.

“It’s OK. I like sluts.” He smirked. The thumb stroking your cheek worked its way over your chin, brushed your pouted lips, and slipped between them. Your tongue instinctively darted out to taste the salty pad, and his eyes darkened with desire. “That’s right… take it, you filthy little—” He hissed when you nipped him hard enough to get his attention.

“And you’re lucky naughty boys are fun to play with.” You ran your tongue over his thumb soothingly.

His chest reverberated with a predatory grumble. You were going to pay for that. Within seconds he had your top off, and then your bra—his hands were everywhere, rough and demanding, not waiting for permission.

He wrapped one strong arm around your back to brace you and lowered his face to your breasts and started sucking on them, hard. His free hand kneaded your other breast, rolling the hardened peak under his thumb. Lightning shot through your body, making your back arch, your chest rising into his mouth. “Oh, Mr. Kneef…” you moaned, curling your fingers into his thick hair.

He was so ravenous his beard burned your skin, his tongue leaving wet trails of saliva along your abused breasts. Your nails dug into the back of his head as you pulled him deeper against you, encouraging every dangerous graze of his teeth and every mark he left on your skin that turned your lower body into molten lava.

“Fuck… yes, Mr. Kneef,” you panted. Always “Mr. Kneef.” It did something frenzied and primal to remember you were fucking your boss. Bryan wasn’t the kind of man you would fuck unless he was your boss. He wasn’t a lover, he was a kink.

Just when your raw nipples couldn’t take anymore, his mouth was on your lips again, assaulting your tongue with his, deep and persistent. There was a blur of movement. Your stomach lurched, the room spun, and suddenly you were on your back, on a mattress with Bryan on top of you.

Then he was sitting back, pulling his cashmere sweater off and unbuttoning his dress shirt while your fingers grasped at his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. The tent straining the fabric beneath it was considerable, and that melting heat in your core was desperate for it.

You could see the dark need in Bryan’s eyes, but he managed a little more restraint than you were capable of in the moment. “Ground rules,” he said. “If you want to go through with this, there’s none of that fake lovey-dovey shit, understand? You are not my pretend-girlfriend. I am not going to be tender. There’s no cuddling.” His white undershirt fell open and revealed a broad chest covered in a forest of greying hair you wanted to get lost in. He followed the path of your eyes, and one corner of his lips twitched into a greedy smirk. “I am going to fuck you. Hard,” he growled, lowering his body on top of you, so close you could feel the heat of his skin on yours, the tickle of his chest hair on your sore breasts. His half-undone belt hung down and dragged on your hips. “I am fucking pissed about being dumped, and you are just a replacement. A body for me to fuck. That’s the deal—do you understand? Don’t come running to me Monday expecting any special attention.”

“Deal. On one condition.” You grabbed his beard and pulled his face down so his eyes were locked with yours. “You don’t fucking tell anybody about this. No one at work hears a word. No disgusting locking room talk. I am not one of your conquests. You want to tell anyone you got laid? It was Sydney.”

“Deal, Syd. Now shut the fuck up.”

You released his beard and pat his face condescendingly. He caught your wrist with an annoyed grunt, fingers circling it effortlessly, and pinned it beside your head on the mattress. Then he was stealing your breath with another fierce kiss, all teeth and tongue and snarling into your mouth. You felt dizzy when he finally broke it to pull his shirt the rest of the way off and toss it aside.

“Oh fuck, Mr. Kneef… you really are attractive,” you commented, running your free hand over his muscular chest and arms. God, those arms were the size of your head, with thick veins running their length.

He glanced down at you but barely took note of the way you were salivating over his body. He knew how hot he was. It wasn’t news. What interested him was you.

He slid your skirt and panties down over your hips, stripping you completely naked on the bed, and looked you over appreciatively. For someone who dressed so conservatively all the time at work, you were sexier than the real fucking Syd. He was starting to think it was a good thing the bitch dumped him—look at all he was missing out on being chained to one pussy.

“You OK?” you asked. You noticed him pause after getting your clothes off, and he had that strange sort of sad look again.

He blinked, and his eyes hardened.

His pants dropped to the floor so he was standing just in his boxers. Then he was on top of you, pushing you back down into the mattress, using his knees to spread your thighs apart. That wild, needy heat flared up within you, anticipating it.

You reached between his legs to cup his bulge through his underwear, his heavy balls, the stiff erection above it. His cock was so thick you gasped as your fingers surrounded it to take in its size, and couldn’t wrap all the way around.

“Fuck. Oh wow, fuck. That’s huge,” you husked, voice slurred with desire. “I guess when you strut around like you’ve got a huge dick, it’s for a good reason. I always thought you were compensating for something.”

He growled and thrust his hips between your spread legs so you could feel that massive cock grind against your pussy.

“Ohh—fuck!” you groaned. You considered the monster between Bryan’s legs, and suddenly the idea of him fucking you with it as hard as you asked for made your throat go dry. “I don’t know if I can take this all at once.”

“You won’t be able to walk right on Monday. Everyone’s going to know what a great holiday you had,” he promised sinfully. “I’m going to rip you in half.” He rocked his hips again, rubbing your clit with the pressure of it, and you felt yourself getting wetter.

“I fucking mean it, Bryan. You are actually going to hurt me with that thing.”

His face grew serious. “You want me to stop, say stop—any time. Say no. Slow down. I’m not going to fucking hurt you.”

That was entirely relieving, actually. You’d kind of jumped into this hoping he’d ride you hard and push you around, but the fantasy didn’t work if you weren’t in control if he pushed too far. You were actually putting a lot of trust in a man you hated because you were horny.

He felt like shit that you’d think he would actually hurt you like that. But he could hardly blame you. “If you can’t speak, tap out. Can you do that? Show me you know what I’m fucking talking about and you’re not just nodding along.”

You scowled indignantly and tapped three times on his arm.

“Good girl.” His beard was tickling the soft skin of your chest as he made a path of bites and kisses down your body. “Don’t worry, kitten. When I’m done, you’ll be begging for me.”

He lifted your legs over his shoulders and sucked a long, teasing mark into one of your thighs, pinching the flesh in his teeth, determined to leave a lasting impression with this one—so anyone else who might fuck you in the next few weeks would know he was there. Then he moved his attention to your already-drenched heat. He dipped one of his long, thick fingers in first, and you gasped, flinching as it plunged its full length up to the knuckle into you, and he chuckled at your reaction.

“You’re tight even around one finger,” he said. “Am I making you nervous?”

You looked down your body at Mr. Kneef, your asshole boss, between your legs, slowly pumping a finger inside you. “Fuck you.”

“Trying, but I’ve got my work cut out. What a beautiful pussy, though…”

Without warning, his tongue darted out and licked your clit. You felt yourself clench around his probing finger and relax again, flooding with warmth. He grinned against your heat and began eating you out relentlessly, filling the room with filthy wet sucking and lapping sounds. Your soft, whimpering cries filled the air, too—you tried not to make too much noise with his family in the house, but you couldn’t stop a few from slipping out. You yelped as he added fingers with just as little warning, stretching you open a little at a time. He changed up the pattern and speed of his tongue on your clit, always backing away just as the molten heat of your orgasm began to build to its delicious, irresistible heights. He didn’t stop until his beard was soaked, and your pussy was practically sucking his fingers in with the need to be satisfied—until you were begging for it.

“Please… Mr. Kneef—ah! Please let me come?”

“Now, now. You’re going to come on daddy’s cock.”

“Yes!” you gasped, clawing at his hair, “Yes—fuck me. Oh god, fill me up with that perfect cock.”

He stripped his boxers off, and his red cock sprang free, already glistening with arousal, the smooth head pulled out of his foreskin. Veins snaked up the sides of it just like his arms and the backs of his hands. It was every bit as big and solid.

Kneeling between your legs, he gave his cock a few strokes and rubbed it through your dripping wet folds. The blunt, hot pressure of it sent waves of arousal up your spine. Your legs opened a little wider without your bidding them to.

“Wait!” you choked out, coming to your senses. “Condom.”

Bryan grumbled. “I’ve only been with one partner for the last three months. I’m clean.”

“Put a fucking condom on—”

“Or you’ll tell HR?”

“And your mom, too.”

“Bitch.” He smiled, the corners of his bright eyes wrinkling. Nobody ever called you that like it was a compliment before.

“Asshole.”

There were condoms in his business card case, as if he had rather expected the night to go this way.

When he finally entered you, he was studying your face almost tenderly for signs of pain or hesitation. He worked you open in a steady movement—not rough as promised, but not patiently waiting. His blunt head stretched you more than his fingers, but you were so sensitive already—so close—your walls eagerly gripped him, reshaping for his size, and the sore, burning sensation of being stuffed past your limit was one you relished as much as the pleasure.

Your legs hooked around the back of his thighs and guided him in until he was buried in your tight warmth.

Slowly at first, he rolled his hips fluidly until he was sure you could take it. When he felt you relax around his cock, your eyes on his with lust-blown desire, he snapped his hips against you once, the smack of flesh echoing through the quiet dark of the bedroom. A deep, startled moan followed it, torn out of your chest.

You were already at the limit of pressure your body could take just being filled by Bryan’s cock. The hard thrust went even deeper—too deep. You had never felt such a fullness before, and—fuck—he was hitting something so deep inside. Something that made your whole body start to melt. It didn’t matter if you could take it or not.

You wanted every inch of this bastard.

“Yes… That’s it… More. Give it to me.”

Bryan lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and leaned over you, pushing them toward your head. The new angle made him feel impossibly large, and when he found just the right angle for leverage, he started fucking you harder and deeper than you’d ever experienced. Every ruthless snap of his hips hit so deep it knocked the air from your lungs and drew a wailing moan from low in your throat.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, eyes a warning. “Quiet. Don’t wake the house.”

“Oh god… oh fuck, Bryan, you’re so… big.” Your voice shook as you tried to speak and hold back another moan.

Unlike the high, breathy gasps you usually gave, Bryan’s massive cock was pulling a new level of moan out of you, as penetrating as his thrusts. Another tore from your throat. You couldn’t hold it back if you wanted to, when his cock slammed into that spot that made you melt. It came from so deep within it shook your bones.

His hand covered your mouth again, and a fire kicked up in your stomach. The warmth of his salty palm pressing over your lips, pushing your head down into the mattress as he jackhammered into you—you were lost and aroused at the dominance of it. This time you grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand over your mouth tighter.

He tipped his head at you curiously, and you shot him a defiant look, grinning against his palm as he realized how much you liked being gagged.

“You like that, you little slut?”

You moaned even louder, letting him muffle you. You didn’t have to hold back now—the harder he rutted, the louder you wailed into the weight of his hand, which meant he didn’t have to hold back either.

The entire bed shook, legs scraping the floor with every powerful thrust as he fucked you into the mattress.

“Take that cock,” he grunted. “That tight pussy feels so good.”

Every stroke bottomed out, hitting depths you never thought possible, and hitting something that ached exquisitely and sent tendrils of molten heat out to your fingertips and down the base of your spine.

It came on so gradually you almost didn’t notice the warm tension building up in every part of your body until it was breaking over you like a wave. Bryan tightened his grip to silence your climax, sobbing into his hand, kissing it, but mostly just letting yourself cry out louder as wave after powerful wave shook you from toes to fingertips, making the world lose focus. All you could feel was him filling you so completely, fucking you through it as your walls convulsed around his cock, and the weight of his hand on your mouth holding you down, anchoring you.

He grunted, pumping faster, shallower as your walls clenched too tight to penetrate, then just as you were starting to come down from your high, his hips jerked, stuttering in their rhythm, and he heaved an exhausted, satisfied sigh as his hot release filled the condom.

His hips stilled. He slowly released your mouth, and you kept moaning, “Fuck… fuck… oh my god, fuck. That was so good.” Your skin was still prickling with warm needles, and you felt… vulnerable.

You felt him start to pull out and grabbed his thick ass, pulling him flush against you.

“Don’t...” you panted. “I want to feel you inside me a little longer.”

“I told you none of this clingy shit,” he frowned. His brow was beading with sweat, and a sheen covered his chest muscles. His pink nipples were hardened peaks in his greying chest hair.

“Shut the fuck up,” you sighed, head falling back on the pillows. You relaxed your legs off his shoulders and crossed them around his back, holding him in place. “I just love your cock. You’re still an asshole. Just shut up and pretend you’re someone nice for a second while I catch my breath.”

It wouldn’t last long before he grumbled about needing to shower and dispose of the condom. But for a few minutes, the callous Mr. Kneef did as he was told and held you as the stars faded behind your eyelids, and your breath stopped trembling. When he was quiet like that, his solid presence was comforting—an anchor when you felt like you might float away.

When he wasn’t taunting and condescending—being himself, in other words—you could imagine he was the kind of person you would want to hold you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @welcometothemadxxhouse​ / @stardust-fray​ / @dreila03​ / @the-baby-bookworm​ / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends​ @storiesofsvu​ @xixxiixx​

#Bryan Kneef #Brian Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #my writing

[dinapaulson]

The Top Ten Times Bridgerton Titillated Me AKA Gave Life

After making haste to consume the series in a day, and the next rewatching Simon and Daphnes’ scenes only (highly recommend), at the crack of the following, I realized it was the magic of seemingly smaller moments, sometimes, in the form of behind-the-scenes and back story beauty, woven into the larger storyline expositions that really stayed with me—a storytelling feat Her Majesty, Shonda Rhimes, is known for. Here are the top ten times this happened, causing my cinephile soul considerable thought and feels. 

1. Simon’s bedside manner while Daphne is in labor

It struck me the first time while watching how—how shall I put it—calm Simon looked, while Daphne screamed and breathed her head off. No, calm is not quite the word—eerily still, without any emotion or exertion of his own. At first confounded by His Grace, I realized he was terrified; scarred and petrified into a place that had no emotion to rely upon. Would Daphne survive childbirth? Was he having an out-of-body experience, imagining, as I am sure he was told, his immense a**hole of a father pacing outside the room where the Duchess was giving birth to Simon, obsessed with the “outcome” and would not deign to be by her side, what that must have felt like, to be so cold and removed from life, feeling, humanity, and here Simon was, in perfect, firm love, at Daphne's side, being a whole part of their child’s birth? (When their son is born, his stock Simon-ness returns, as he, filled with emotion, gently holds their son from Daphne’s arms, then implies, impishly, because of the Bridgerton family tradition, their son’s name must begin with “A.”)

2. A chocolate will do just perfectly 

The perfection of friendship between Eloise and Penelope is well on display throughout the series. There was one moment that caught my breath for the sheer ease of what friendship is—truly relating without needing to fully understand the other but being, sitting, anyhow, in pure acceptance of the other and mutual situation. Such is what happens when Penelope tells Eloise, in gentle expository explosion, her path is and will be different, more difficult to navigate than hers, without having a sister who is a Duchess, and moreover, she thinks she wants a life different than the independent dream the two of them speak of. And, to that, Eloise offers a chocolate, and to that, Penelope's smile-inducing smile and simply reaching for one is friendship goals. 

3. “I beg your pardon?” 

As others have pointed out, there is plenty of hotness to Simon buttoning Daphne’s cuff as a clear metaphor for the sexual unbuttoning/buttoning to come. But, what gets me every time is Simon’s reaction to Daphne’s question, his face both gently confirming and sexily contorting, which seems to beg the idea that in a different house of language, not one for promenade but perhaps one a rake aka Regency f*ck boy would inhabit, this term had an, o, one might say, slightly less innocent meaning. 

4. The nighttime, swing chats between Eloise and Benedict

I dare say it was Eloise who checked her brother on his white man privilege that sent him (still) strolling to Henry Granville’s house to take a (completely protected, see white privilege) risk of himself as a potential new somebody, in this case, an artist. 

5. Were others hoping Henry and Benedict would have a go at it? 

I think I mistook their mutual intrigue for desire, though I dare say Benedict flinging himself with considerable umph into the ménage-a-trois with Madame Delacroix and her friend, may have been, in part, a turn-on from stumbling upon Henry with his love, Lord Willoughby, making love. I recognize this ponderance might be a stretch, but, if I may—remember that conversation A Happiest Season launched in queer Twitterverse about the likelihood, with multiple siblings, of at least one sibling being gay? Come on, there are eight of them! Tell me I am not the only queer fan who would love to see one Bridgerton explore a truthfully desired same-sex relationship on the show. 

6. “Simon” (**heart begins to ache**)

After Simon gives one of his best speeches, in episode five to the queen, in his and Daphne’s effort to persuade Her Majesty to assist them in getting a marriage license, so moved is Daphne by what he says, that she turns to him, as if no one else is in the room, with an emotive quiver, staring watery and straight into his eyes, and out comes a quaking: “Simon.” Indeed, Simon’s speech of the love from whom he cannot stay away nor let be the one who got away is the discursive, definitive foreplay to their physical consumption of each other. Later, he says quietly to her heart twisted back: “Everything I said to the queen was true.” 

7. “From the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit, my thoughts of you never end...” 

Um. So, this is just one of the most perfect romantic things I have ever heard one human being utter to another. 

8. Also: this was a nearly all-female credited writer cast (with the exception of the series’ premiere and finale episodes, credited to showrunner Chris Van Dusen). I delightfully sighed as each woman writer’s name danced in Bridgerton font across my screen. What genius interplay of words that cut and bit and lobbed and heeled, then healed, revealed, and felt so completely—wonderful.  Here are the writing credits:

Janet Lin for episode 2, ”Shock and Delight”

Leila Cohan-Miccio for episode 3, ”The Art of the Swoon”

Abby McDonald for episode 4, “An Affair of Honor”

Joy C. Mitchell for episode 5, ”The Duke and I” Sarah Dollard for episode 6, ”Swish” Jay Ross and Abby McDonald for episode 7, “Oceans Apart” 

Additionally listed under writers are Jess Brownell as Executive Story Editor on “Shock and Delight” and “Diamond of the First Water,” Joy C. Mitchell also as Executive Story Editor on “Shock and Delight” and “Diamond of the First Water,” and Abby McDonald as Staff Writer on “Shock and Delight” and “Diamond of the First Water.” 

9. Simon goes down—a lot 

At least two times we know of, but we may assume more, that giving Her Grace pleasure between her legs is something that comes easily, perhaps even needily, to him. Just that. It is hot and wanting and you know, with various talk about men not wanting to go down on women, well, representation matters. 

10. Choosing present over past 

This is a Golden Age TV theme of late, strong in the final season of Jessica Jones and luscious The Queen’s Gambit, though, perhaps, choosing to be present is the overall life theme, always, and just manifests differently in all of our journeys. The fabulously eviscerate Lady Danbury says: “Pride, Your Grace: it will cost you everything and leave you with nothing.” What Simon gains by choosing to be in his present is not only the opportunity to feel and develop a love, and family, with Daphne, but he gives himself space—cleans out the leftovers, once and for all—to fully inhabit the now, which means anything could be ahead. 

#bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #daphne bridgerton #simon hastings #duke of hastings #daphne x simon #simon x daphne #simon and daphne #daphne and simon #top ten #shonda rhimes #thank you shonda #shondaland #netflix #chris van dusen #women writers #golden age of tv #your grace

[honourablejester]

Well that got my back up right off, oof.

I was browsing through the TV Tropes character page for Ravenloft, because it gives a nice intro to older lore, and I came across this entry on Addar, Darklord of the Phantasmal Forest:

“Mentioned in the writeups for the Shadow Unicorns, Addar was promoted to Darklord status in the Kargatane's Book of Sacrifices netbook. Hailing from a sylvan forest on an unknown Prime world, Addar chafed against the traditions of unicorns submitting to elven maidens as bonded steeds, seeing such an act not as a bond of partnership and purity, but a symbol of humiliation and servitude. Though the other benevolent fey spirits of his forest recoiled from such bitter, poisonous prejudice, darker spirits rejoiced in it. Most prominently, a female nightmare, who began to contact Addar in his dreams, seducing him with stories of a new forest, far away, where he would become a great champion and worshiped like a god, much like the guardians of his own forest. Even as Addar's ego grew on this noxious fuel, the elder fey strove to break him of his arrogance; they arranged for an elven princess of unparalleled purity and grace, a mighty paladin-in-training, to be given his name and told she was to invoke the pact with him. When she came to summon him, however, Addar fought with all his might, recoiling against what he still saw as an attempt to enslave him and reduce him to a mere beast of burden. His defiance allowed the nightmare to slip between the worlds and attack the elf-maid, setting the forest alight with her burning mane and hooves. Free of the spell, Addar began to flee, only to realize the elf-maid was caught by the flames; choked by the smoke, she couldn't hope to escape on her own... but Addar's pride would not allow him to let her ride to safety on his back. Instead, he turned and abandoned the screaming princess to her death, following the nightmare into the mists. Upon her, he fathered the first Shadow Unicorns, and became ruler of the Phantasmal Forest; a foul and dismal place of dead, dying trees whose black, noxious soul nourished only weeds and evil plants, inhabited only by dark fey and predatory beasts.”

So, okay. I just gonna … I’m gonna side with the Darklord here? Yeah.

Not on the whole ‘seduced by a dark spirit with promises of being worshipped like a god’ thing, that’s fair enough as a villain origin. Carry right on. But the bit where he saw being bound to someone as servitude, and the response of the people around him to that …

Right. So. To sum up. Addar saw being bound to an elf as being bound into servitude, and the fey around him saw this as possibly racism and definitely pride, and their ‘benevolent’ solution … was to send someone to punitively and magically bind him into said servitude against his will, specifically for the purposes of ‘breaking him of his arrogance’?

Um. Explain to me how that’s not slavery?

It doesn’t matter how pure and beautiful a paladin she was. It doesn’t matter that the bond is normally not slavery because (I’m assuming) the other unicorns consented. In this case it absolutely, one-hundred-percent was slavery, because Addar did not consent to it and they tried to magically force him anyway, and I feel like every ‘benevolent’ fey involved in the decision should have slipped immediately over into Lawful Evil, for valuing their tradition over the will and consent of one of their own.

Like, this is phrased in such a hostile way to his interpretation of what was happening to him? I just … I love how this frames him as entirely unreasonable here. That his wanting not to be bonded to anyone is ‘bitter, poisonous prejudice’, that his recoiling while being bound against his will is only struggling against what he saw as an attempt to enslave him, as if he’s wrong about that and it was blindly willful of him to fight. That this binding is explicitly meant to correct him of his arrogance, that he’s being bound to someone to humble and punish him, and somehow this is not slavery? That it’s his defiance that allows a dark spirit to slip into the world, but if you didn’t force him against his will, maybe he wouldn’t have to fight and let nightmares into the world? It’s his ‘pride’ that causes him to abandon the woman who attempted to enslave him to her death, not an entirely reasonable unwillingness to help someone who just tried to force him?

Sorry. I had a surprisingly strong reaction to this, is all.

But. This is just the TV Tropes summary of the story, so I went to look up the original, in case TV Tropes was leaving stuff out or putting a slant on the story in the process of repeating it. And … sort of. The original does gentle a few things:

Addar was not aware of the nightmare’s nature at first

The fey spirits were not aware of the nightmare at all, since she was only approaching the unicorn in his dreams

The spirits could feel a corruption in his soul as a result of the nightmare’s temptations, and without knowledge of her presence, his hatred of ‘servitude’ was the only thing they could tie that corruption to. This doesn’t make their ‘solution’ any better, but it explains a bit why they were so adamant, if the nightmare was having a tangible magical effect for the worse on him

The spirits didn’t think of it as ‘breaking him of his arrogance’, they thought of it as teaching him ‘a lesson about the virtue of sharing and partnership’

The elf they chose had no knowledge whatsoever of any of this, she was just told that Addar was a unicorn who wished to bind with her and was given permission to perform the ritual

She spammed the ritual repeatedly despite his resistance because she didn’t know what was happening and thought he might be trapped somewhere

He realised she was in danger, and turned away from her truly because he didn’t want to bear any elf, and he thought another unicorn for whom that wouldn’t be a problem would reach her in time

Things the original story doesn’t help, though:

It still seems to imply that a unicorn must bind with someone pure, whether they want to or not, and everyone is apparently fine with that

“Such bitter thoughts, coming from an average person, would normally be seen as mere prejudices, and might even go unnoticed by most others. But it was no less than an appointed guardian of Goodness and Nature who was spitting those poisoned words, and that was seen with concern by some inhabitants of the forest, and with joy by others. These last were, of course, creatures of darkness and foul spirits, who were barely tolerated by others as part of the natural balance.” Virtue and goodness mean surrendering your right to autonomy, but for other people wanting to not bind yourself to someone is okay?

“She was training to be a noble warrior-priestess, and the ancient spirits dictated that Addar should be her steed. So, she was told Addar's name and given permission to tame him. The spirits thought he would finally accept the noble partner and once again become true to his nature, leaving the perverted ideas behind forever.” She’s beautiful and virtuous, so she deserves to ride him, and he should leave all ‘perverted ideas’ of bodily autonomy behind him

The ritual is still explicitly a forceful spell, an enchantment that does not require the consent of the unicorn, and can wear away their strength to resist: “Addar, who was finally losing his powers to resist the enchantment, suddenly felt free once again, when the nightmare took his place.”

“As he turned around one last time to see the princess choking to death, he knew in his corrupted heart that he was never going to allow anyone to ride him, under no circumstances. He would be king of his own forest.” This is meant to be the heart of why he’s a Darklord, the epitome of his corruption, and yes it’s extremely selfish to refuse to carry someone out of a literal fire that was burning her to death, and yes to the whole ‘prideful desire to be king and ruler no matter the cost’ thing, but on the other hand is it really meant to be evil to not want people to feel free to use your body against your will just because of your species?

I just … this whole thing sort of rubbed me completely the wrong way. It’s an odd thing to get riled up over, I know. But the whole … Ignore bodily autonomy, ignore consent, take someone’s species as license to bind them into service, declare them evil for not wanting to allow that, if they object too many times just magically force them anyway …

Look. The base fact is, the binding of the ritual is slavery and is not a ‘partnership’ and ‘a prize and honor for both beings’ in this case, for the sole and simple reason that Addar did not consent and everyone else ignored that and tried to force it on him anyway. Partnership requires consent on both ends, and forcing someone into servitude against their will is sort of the definition of slavery.

I just … I’m gonna side with the Darklord here. Not on the whole ‘allow myself to be corrupted and move to my own world where I’ll be king’ part, but on the whole ‘refuse to allow someone to use my body against my will and rebel when they attempt to magically force the issue’? Absolutely yes. The spirits were completely in the wrong there. The elf maiden not so much, because she didn’t know and acted in innocence towards someone she thought had consented, and it’s definitely tragic that she died for that, but I’m mostly going to put the blame for that on the spirits as well. Addar maybe should have helped her when he saw her dying, but they’d given him literally every reason not to by tricking her into, essentially, trying to enslave him and override his will. If someone tries to magically enslave me no matter how hard or long I fight, and winds up in mortal peril because of it, I’m not going to be too pushed about helping them out of that mortal peril either. Gonna be honest.

I reacted really strongly to this. Oof. Sorry.

It’s just … is it just me, or does D&D sometimes have some problems with consent, particularly when it comes to issues of magic, as well as some really dodgy views of ‘virtue’ and ‘evil’, particularly when it comes to magical species and what’s expected of them?

#d&d #meta #ravenloft #darklords #rant #mostly a rant #triggery #i had a really strong reaction to that #apologies

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Wedding Dresses - What You Wear Getting Married to Each of the Triple Frontier Men

Pairings: Will Miller x Reader, Ben Miller x Reader, Frankie Morales x Reader, Santiago Garcia x Reader, Tom Davis x Reader Rating: T Warnings: Light cursing Notes: Like halfway through writing this I was like ‘hey, I know! Moodboards!’ Which I don’t do often so I’m sorry if they’re...Bad. I also wound up Pinteresting like c r a z y for this so if you want a link to anything I gotchu ;) The actual headcanons also got away from me while I was writing them, so. Whoops.

Will Miller - Romantic Lacy A-Line

You’d both waited for this - for a long time. You knew it wasn’t going to be a big event; just your families and your closest friends. Will was already covered in the wedding wear department - he was going to be wearing his dress uniform, he didn’t even have to worry about a tux. You on the other hand, well. You had a few things to consider. The reception was going to be in his parents’ backyard; you knew it would be decorated with white string lights and mason jars full of flowers. It’d be sweet, romantic. You decided that you wanted your dress to capture that feeling. Going into dress shopping, you weren’t sure about lace - you didn’t want to look like a tablecloth. But the embroidered bodice of the dress had thrown you for a loop - and the lace didn’t blanket the skirt, it was placed expertly throughout. You felt delicate and romantic in it. You opted for a shorter veil; you were sure it would come off after the ceremony, anyway, and you didn’t want to worry about it. You decided to wear the necklace that Will had given you for your last anniversary, and found shoes that complimented the lace detail on the dress. “You find a dress?” Will asked you when you came home from dress shopping. You’d told him that you had. “Do I get a hint?” He’d asked. “I got a mini dress. Barely covers my thighs -- neckline down to my navel. You’re gonna love it, babe,” You’d teased. Will had laughed, swept you into a kiss. “You could wear a burlap sack and I’d love it,” He’d sworn. After your ceremony, as the two of you drove to his parent’s house for the reception, he leaned over, kissing you sweetly at a red light. “For the record,” He murmured, “I think I actually like this better than a burlap sack.” “...But less than a mini dress?” You asked. Ben Miller - Boho Chic Dress - with a surprise two-piece look for the reception

It was going to be a party, you knew that going in. The first thing you and Benny had booked was the frickin’ DJ. You knew going into dress shopping that you’d be looking for something you’d be able to dance in, and something that you’d be comfortable in all night - the two of you were getting married in mid-July; it was going to be hot. Benny had told you, “Look, I don’t care what you wear -- we’ve gotta be able to move, babe. None of that tight-- waddle-walk type dress shit, what’s it called? Penguin?” “Mermaid!” You’d corrected him once you’d managed to stop laughing. The dress that you wound up with wasn’t the ‘traditional’ wedding dress, but you and Benny weren’t a traditional couple. The slit meant an ease of motion while you were walking; the skirt was flowy and wouldn’t be too heavy in the summer heat. You choose gold-heeled boots instead of high-heels, not wanting to worry about tottering down the aisle. You had assumed you were all set when you left the bridal salon. You didn’t find the two-piece look until you went back for your dress fitting. You’d been toying with the idea of a separate reception dress, and you’d spotted the jumpsuit on your way into the salon. Your maid of honor hadn’t even bothered to try to talk you out of it - she knew she’d never win. Benny had loved your dress when he saw it, but when he saw your reception outfit? “... I married the smartest fucking woman-- Holy shit, it has pockets?”

Frankie Morales  - Princess-y Ballgown 

Frankie had thought about his wedding day - a lot. So had you. You just hadn’t realized that the both of you had considered what you would be wearing so much. You had bought a couple of bridal magazines and you kept them around to flip through for inspiration; every once in a while, when you were looking through one, he’d lean over your shoulder and mutter, “That one’s nice.” Sometimes you’d open a magazine to find a page with a ballgown on it dog-earred. The first couple of times that this happened, you’d figured that you’d done it and just forgotten. The fifth time, though, you’d held it up, showing it to Frankie. “Did you mark this for me, babe?” You asked. He glanced at it, muttered, “Might’ve,” Before slouching down on the couch a little more and turning back to the tv. Hint hint, Future-Mrs. Morales. You were surprised at how strongly he felt about you wearing a ballgown-style wedding dress. You wanted to look hot; he wanted you to look like a princess. To him, you were one. You didn’t think you wanted a ballgown. But, since he’d mentioned it, you decided to try one on when you went shopping. You fell in love with it the second you saw yourself in it. The strapless sweetheart top and a lacy, partially see-through bodice was a little bit sexy; the full, layered, lacy skirt made you feel the way Frankie saw you: like a princess. You got the best of both worlds. Frankie’s mom lent you her veil, giving you your something borrowed; your mother gifted you the necklace she wore on her wedding day, giving you your something old. Your shoes and your dress were your something new, and your flowers were your something blue. Frankie cried when he saw you coming down the aisle. Santiago teased him about it, but he didn’t care. You’d never looked more beautiful. Santiago Garcia - Alluring Mermaid Dress

Santiago did not think he was ever going to get married. You knew that. That was why you hadn’t expected him to be such a Groomzilla. Alright, maybe ‘Groomzilla’ was an exaggeration, but Santiago was kind of...Particular when it came to the things that he wanted - even more particular than you were. 

“Are you gonna micro-manage my dress, too?�� You’d been teasing him when you’d asked that. He didn’t even look away from the email he was sending to the caterer. “If that’s a serious question then yeah, I have some thoughts,” He’d said. It had definitely not been a serious question, but you did want to see what he had in mind. Santiago had sent the email off, then tugged you into his lap and pulled up a folder on his laptop labeled ‘Wedding Ideas’ (which you'd had no idea he had - but it really shouldn’t have surprised you; Santiago was a planner, through and through). The dresses he’d looked at were sexy, bordering on skimpy. “You know my family will faint if they see me in that,” You’d told him after he’d clicked on one dress that was entirely see-through, save for some expertly placed lace, “That looks more like lingerie than a wedding dress-- what kind of underwear am I even supposed to wear with that?” “Who says you have to wear any?” Santiago countered. The pictures that he’d shown you had been fresh in your mind when you’d gone shopping for dresses. You’d had ideas of what you’d wanted to wear, and you wanted to find a happy medium between your preferences and his. In this dress, you did. It had a sexy-ish top, and a form-fitting silhouette that showed off your body. Santiago broke out into the widest grin when he saw you walking down the aisle. He broke into a wider one when you pinched his shoulder during your first dance, after he whispered to you, “So where did we net out on the underwear situation?” Tom Davis - Classic A-Line V-Neck

Tom wasn’t against getting married again, obviously, but he didn’t want to make it a massive deal. He already did the big wedding thing once. You knew that he was a little trepidatious about the process. He told you while you’re planning that he was fine, but he was a little more tense than usual in the months leading up to it. You did your best to involve him in the planning without overwhelming him with it, and when you asked him what kind of dress he'd like to see you in, he was surprised. He wasn’t involved in that process last time. He asked you to let him think about it, and you agreed. You found out after the fact, of course, that Tom, in typical Tom fashion, had been incredibly thorough: did research on different silhouettes, wedding trends over the last five years -- he even took undergarment types into consideration. But when he’d come back to you, he’d simply said that he wanted you to wear whatever you’d be happiest in; it was your day. You’d frowned, cupped his cheeks, and said, “Sweetheart, it’s ours.” He’d nearly cried. Tess was with you when you’d found the dress. The two of you got along well, and you’d been involving her in the wedding planning where you could. Your maid of honor hadn’t been able to get the day off of work, and you hadn’t wanted to go alone. You’d tried on a few dresses, with varied silhouettes and fabrics. You were hesitant to try on something that seemed a little more plain on the hanger, but this satin A-line ivory dress had caught your eye. Tess had helped you accessorize, and suggested a belt that had given the look just the right amount of bling. “Do you think your dad will like it?” You’d asked uncertainly. Tess had met your eyes on the mirror. “Do you love it?” She’d asked. You’d nodded, and she’d smiled and said, “Then so will he.”

#william miller #william miller x reader #william miller imagine #William Miller x You #William Ironhead Miller x Reader #William Ironhead Miller x You #William Miller / Reader #William Miller / You #Benny Miller x You #benny miller imagine #benny miller headcanon #benny miller x reader #Benny Miller/Reader #Benny Miller/You #Santiago Garcia x Reader #Santiago Garcia/Reader #Santiago Garcia x You #Santiago Pope Garcia x Reader #Santiago Pope Garcia x You #Santiago Pope Garcia Imagine #Santiago Pope Garcia headcanon #Santiago Garcia headcanon #William Miller Headcanon #Will Miller headcanon #Will Ironhead Miller headcanon #Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Morales x You #Frankie Catfish Morales x Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x You #Frankie Morales/Reader

[notquitecanon]

Hi there! I absolutly love you writing! I was wondering if you could pretty please write a very fluffy piece with Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds. Keep up the AMAZING work and may the force be with you!

FUN FACTS || Spencer Reid. 

It had become a thing between the two of you. You thought that the way his mind worked was amazing, he just liked seeing you smile.

“Hey, Spence, tell me something interesting.” You requested, head in his lap as you watched the movie that was on TV. The genius didn’t stop reading his book, mentally skimming through some of the more obscure facts he remembered. Finally, he glanced down to you only to find you giddily smiling. 

“Between 1912 and 1948, competitive art was an Olympic Game. They awarded medals in sculptures, music, painting, and architecture. If they still counted them, John Copley would be the oldest medalist in Olympic History at 73.” He recited, absentmindedly lowering his book as he continued while you played with one of his hands (another habit of yours that Spencer pretended to just not to mind, but actually loved), “According to the Smithsonian, he placed silver for his 1948 engraving Polo Players in the last Olympic games that had the competition.” 

You sighed contentedly, thinking about the new knowledge as you pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He smiled down at you, taking his hand from you as he began toying with your hair, booked held to the side with one hand. 

____________________

Other times, you did it to take his mind of something. 

You watched as the doctor chewed on his lip, flipping through a Russian translation of War and Peace like his life depended on it. You knew he was worried about Hotch, who was still taking his time after Hayley’s death. 

You came from behind, gently dragging a hand through his hair, nails lightly scratching his scalp to rouse his from his stupor, “Tell me something odd, Dr. Reid.” 

The troubled agent sighed, but indulged you anyways, “Uhhhh, did you know that the hottest temperature ever recorded on Earth was Two billion degrees Kelvin- about 3599999540.33 degrees Fahrenheit. For reference to interior of our sun is only 15 million.”

“Oh, only 15?” You asked playfully, gently scratching the back of his neck. He leaned forward, relaxing at the touch. 

“Scientists at Sandia National Laboratories produced it using a superheated gas.” He went on explaining as you draped yourself over him in a hug, kissing his cheek. He chatted animatedly about the physics behind that but paused after a bit. 

“Hey, (Y/N)?” He asked, bringing your attention back to him- while you enjoyed his fun facts, thermonuclear physics was a bit above your paygrade. 

“Hmmm.” You hummed, tucking a light brown curl behind his ear. 

“Thank you.”

_____________

And other times, you did it to take your own mind of things. 

Anxiety, amongst other negative emotions, bubbled in your stomach. Spencer could tell something was wrong, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it. You had been switching between fiddling with nails and anxiously scrolling through your twitter feed for the past half hour.  

Spencer didn’t want to press you to talk about it if you didn’t want to but hated seeing you so worked up. He had turned on your favorite show and was playing with your hair, even throwing out the offer to try to cook something. 

“Hey, Spence?” Your voice was quiet as your head fell to his shoulder, knees drawing up as you curled into him. Adjusting himself to make you more comfortable, he wrapped his other arm around you. 

“Yes?” He answered quietly, cheek resting against your hair.

“Tell me something, anything.” You requested, closing your eyes and moving so your head was on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

“The moons gravitational pull is slowly making Earth’s rotation slower. Every 100 years it adds 1.4 milliseconds to our day. With some basic calculations, you could deduce that when dinosaurs roamed the planet, days were twenty-THREE hours long.” He informed you, thumb rubbing comforting circles on your arm.  

Though your voice was muffled by the tweed coat that he’d worn to work that day, he still heard your quiet, tired gratitude, “Thank you.”

_______________

Spencer had just taken your wine glass back to Rossi’s table to refill it after telling you another crazy fact about the moon. You smiled as he went, soft eyes following him as he left the room.

The rest of the BAU watched the two of you, happy for the youngest member of the team. Unaware that Spencer could still hear her, JJ nudged your knee with a kind smile, “Why do you always ask him to tell you facts?”

You stopped to think about it, it had become such second nature. Grinning at the blonde, you answered, “It’s like dating an encyclopedia. The way his brain works is amazing, and he knows so much that there’s no telling what he’s going to tell me. Did you know, he’s never told me the same fact twice?”

“It’s like they were made for each other.” Prentiss laughed, causing you to blush as the rest of the team agreed as Spencer walked back in holding a full glass of wine. 

Derek teased him about being whipped and Penelope called dibs on maid of honor. Prentiss and JJ were clinking their glasses together while Rossi was complaining that the team was drinking him out of house and home. Distracting you from Hotch moving to the corner of the room, pulling out his phone. 

“Hey, (Y/N), can I tell you something?” Spencer called your attention away from his teammates as he laced his hand in yours. With a smile, you nodded, waiting for him to tell you another insane tidbit of knowledge. 

“Did you know that the Greeks are the reason we wear engagement rings on our left ring finger. They believed there was a vein called the vena amoris that ran straight to your heart. It doesn’t actually exist, but that’s where the tradition comes from.” He paused his rambling, and you had an inkling where this was going as his grip on your hand tightened- his hand was sweating and he was speaking fast, indicating that he was nervous, “In a similar vein, in 1477 Archduke Maximillian of Austria commissioned the very first diamond engagement ring on record for his betrothed, Mary of Burgundy.”

Your eyebrow quirked upwards as butterflies filled your stomach, but he wasn’t done, “Also, technically, American marriages weren’t required by law to have witnesses until 1957.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), Will you marry me?” 

Your heart stopped as he slipped down onto one knee and produced a ring out of his pocket, hands flying to your mouth as the team around you gasped and clapped. You struggled for words wildly nodding as you choked out a frantic, “yes, yes, oh my god, yes!”

The rest of the team cheered as you launched yourself at the curly-haired doctor, who happily laughed as the two of you toppled over onto the rug. Helping you up, he slipped the ring onto your hand with a smile. Struggling to control your breath, you glanced from the ring to your boyfriend  fiance. 

(Ignoring Emily as she turned to Rossi with a brilliant smile, “Well, Rossi, time to break out the Champagne.”

“Hey, Spence, can I tell you something?” You asked, giggling as he looked confused. You caught his lips, enjoying the moment before breaking away, “I love you.”

____________

Sorry this took so long, but I hope this fills the need for fluffy! :) 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine

[stingslikeabee]

send me  ❥  for your muse to cuddle up next to mine while asleep on the couch

accidental affection . accepting

It had turned into some sort of tradition over the past weeks - in an effort to stay closer to her family, Melissa had committed herself to following some of the same TV shows her mother and sisters were anxiously following back in the US. And thankfully, that was very much possible in a world with streaming - even if sometimes the release dates got shifted around a little bit.

It was Eleanor's turn that week - and the Drysdell matriarch had been obsessing over a reality show which involved baking mostly cakes (but sometimes other types of desserts). It made Melissa's mouth water just by watching it - she often had a snack with her while she caught up with the latest episode available... Usually around 3am.

That was usually when she was free to watch it - after closing the club, going home, showering, having dinner and spending some time with her fiancé. But lately, Daigo had decided to keep her company through her family's selection of TV shows; their daily routines were so different that they had to make some effort to be with each other before either one of them needed to leave for work or go to bed.

Dojima Daigo had the energy of a thousand suns to wake up at 5am for jogging, then carrying on to his fitness training that would have qualified him to be a contestant in American Ninja Warrior (Rose's choice, actually), then be at the office before 9am fully refreshed and energized. Melissa, on the other hand, was barely able to form any coherent thought at that time.

During the nights - it reversed; she sometimes cleaned the apartment, baked or even organized her closet at ungodly hours. And 2am was the time she was used to having some food while watching the TV shows and texting her family in real time. And Daigo had been insistent in making an effort to join her, promising he would be awake for as long as his fiancée wanted him to.

His currently record had been 12:17am - Melissa had timed it. Not that she minded, honestly; she was hardly going with him for a run during the mornings, so she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Besides - when Daigo slept anywhere else but the bed, he tended to unconsciously adapt given his size. And on the couch, it more often than not meant leaning over her and cuddling with her somehow.

It was endearing - Daigo had come such a long way, healing traumas and allowing himself some peace of mind. He had been set off by the minimum surprise touches, seemingly incapable of returning it sometimes, too. And while the former hostess had always managed to be some sort of exception, it filled her with affection to see how he unconsciously sought her when asleep. His head nestled comfortably against her shoulder, one of his arms had remained around her waist - and even without realizing, he pulled her close when he moved in his dreams.

There was a lot of power in physical touches, Melissa knew that - and the fact that hers had always been able to soothe and ground Daigo instead of triggering unpleasant memories was nothing short of a honor for the woman. Turning around just a little, she planted a soft kiss to his hair, all fluffy and messed up after the shower - a far cry from his professional look, slicked back and perfectly combed.

[Rose; 2:13am] Onee-chan, how are things? Is Daigo still watching? [Melissa; 2:16am] Nope. Out like a light since... 11ish, I think? Just enough to see the first guy attempting that syrup thing. [Heather; 2:18am] Good for him, he doesn't get hungry at least. I need sugar. Noooow. [Eleanor; 2:21am] Speaking of which - don't eat anything too heavy, sweetheart. [Melissa; 2:25am] ...I'm having Pocky, mom. Not a barbecue. [Rose; 2:26am] BRING SOME NEXT TIME YOU'RE OVER???

Melissa chuckled at her family text group and glanced at Daigo - he barely seemed to notice her moving at all, or the lights from the TV or even the sound of a blender being turned on during the last part of the show. At long last - he was able to sleep soundly. The nightmares had receded for most of the months; and as long as they were close, they tended to remain like that.

If it was up to Melissa - she would hold him forever while he slept.

#dojimakaichou #v: Yakuza #accidental affection #replied #hahaha I remember we once discussed this #and this was the perfect prompt for it #her family making bets on how long he lasts was a bonus

[aion-rsa]

The Many Saints of Newark Is a Trashy Gangster B-Movie, There’s Nothing Wrong with That

https://ift.tt/3uzeb2V

When I first walked out of The Many Saints of Newark, my initial reaction was to call it a B-movie. What I didn’t say at the time, however, was how much I love B-movies. While I saw the flaws in the film and couldn’t wholly endorse it to cinemagoers spoiled by the perfection of The Godfather, Goodfellas, and New Jack City, I can wholeheartedly recommend it to people like me. Those who appreciate the low-budget gangster movies sometimes because of their warts. A majority of fans of The Sopranos will have the same reaction: Meh, The Many Saints of Newark could have been better. So when’s it playing next? I plan to see it again, more than once, on the big screen.

In one of the film’s quieter moments, the Soprano family is gathered around a TV set, watching the classic Key Largo (1948). The specific scene on the screen begins when Humphrey Bogart’s cynical combat veteran Frank McCloud defuses a tense situation with the gangster Johnny Rocco. Played by Edward G. Robinson, Rocco is very loosely based on Charles “Lucky” Luciano, the godfather of organized crime, who had been deported and barred from American soil. He is suffering the same doubts Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini) worries about in the pilot episode of The Sopranos: Are the best days of this “thing” over?

All gangsters want, as the black and white film explains, is more. Will they ever get enough? They never have. I don’t suppose they will. It is the same for gangster genre fans. We want more. And it doesn’t have to be great. “I don’t want it good. I want it Tuesday,” Jack Warner famously said about the gangster films his studio excelled in. Warner Bros. invented the gangster genre, and I felt a thrill when their name came first on the screen during The Many Saints of Newark. WB’s Key Largo is a prestige film. It’s got John Huston directing, he’d go on to make amazing mob movies, culminating with his magnificent Prizzi’s Honor. Key Largo boasts an A-list offering with top stars like Lauren Bacall, Claire Trevor, and Lionel Barrymore. And it’s a pairing of two legends who take their performances seriously, and believe in the art of acting: Bogart and Robinson.

But Bogart and Robinson made four B-movie gangster classics before they made the prestigious Key Largo: Bullets or Ballots, Kid Galahad, Brother Orchid, and The Amazing Dr. Clitterhouse, which was so badly scripted that the two leads took to calling it “The Amazing Dr. Clitoris.” I’ve seen it eight times. Are there holes in the story? Of course. And they don’t get any better after the third viewing. What does get better is watching the performances of two professional actors in films they are on record as saying they did not like. Twice, as it turns out, because it was revived as a radio play a few years later, according to the book Bogart, by A.M. Sperber and Eric Lax.

Robinson played a psychiatrist, studying Bogart’s gangster, and the two characters bond while keeping a wary distance. This is very similar to the dynamic between Tony Soprano and Dr. Melfi (Lorraine Bracco) on The Sopranos. She even worried the mob boss was using their therapeutic sessions in the furtherance of crime, something Bogart’s character did in the B-movie gangster film, King of the Underworld, which is awful and I never miss. I love that movie, not in spite of Bogie’s misunderstanding of the meaning of “the moronic type,” but because of it. He doesn’t do that in other movies, even in the masterful B-movie gangster comedies, It All Came True and All Through the Night.

But Bogart also made Dead End (1937), a quality piece, which happens to be my favorite film, ever. Based on the play by Sidney Kingsley, it spends a lot of its time in the same way The Many Saints of Newark does: teaching the young generation how to be gangsters. This is seen even more blatantly in the film Angels With Dirty Faces (1938), which paired James Cagney with the Dead End Kids. But threads of this even reach the juvenile delinquent movie Blackboard Jungle, also not a big-budget film, but realistic enough to show the teenagers were actually moving swag for bigger names.

It happens in real life, the mob looks to street gangs for promising young movers. Future dons make their bones wearing colors. Gangster films capture this. From Nino Brown (Wesley Snipes) in Mario Van Peebles’ New Jack City to Spike Lee’s Clockers, original gangstas groom carbon copies. Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola) sees potential in young Tony Soprano (Michael Gandolfini) during The Many Saints of Newark. Great potential.

When Tony and his young gang hijack the Mr. Softee truck and give out ice cream to kids for free, it feels like The Sopranos creator and The Many Saints of Newark co-screenwriter,  David Chase, was chasing the feel of the East Side Kids. Old Bowery Boys movies were aired weekly in the New York/New Jersey area when Tony was growing up, and all those movies were made by the icon of B-Movie studios, Monogram Pictures.

Monogram Pictures sat on Hollywood’s “poverty row,” and churned out pictures as fast as Detroit made cars. The Bowery Boys comedy troupe made almost a picture a month alone. But just like the Warner Brothers assembly line occasionally manufactured transcendent art, some of the cheapies are magnificently crafted. Sopranos fans should watch Angels in Disguise, one of the lesser-known gangster comedies, directed by Jean Yarbrough in 1949. It is, if not the first, one of the first mock-documentaries, and it is a good bet David Chase saw it, more than once. Leo Gorcey is even more of a master of the malaprop than Carmine Lupertazzi Jr. (Ray Abruzzo) on The Sopranos.

Monogram Pictures also caught the attention of French directors François Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard, who structured films based on their model, according to the book The Films of Jean-Luc Godard by Wheeler W. Dixon. It is no wonder, the studio’s almost-no-budget 1947 quickie Dillinger turned RKO contract player Lawrence Tierney into an icon of film noir. The Fall Guy, from the same year, dared to coke up the star Leonard Penn, and we’re not talking soda pop.

Also in 1947, 20th Century Fox’s low budget Kiss of Death introduced the screen audiences to the sadistic Tommy Udo. The role earned Richard Widmark an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actor, and the admiration of “Crazy” Joe Gallo, whose insurrection against the Five Families of New York crime was the basis for Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather.

Low budget studio production paved the way for the independent film movement in America, which The Many Saints of Newark proudly emulates. Director Alan Taylor recently admitted to Den of Geek that he’s “drunk deep at the well of Scorsese,” and we can see Mean Streets all over the Sopranos prequel. Also in evidence is Barry Shear’s Across 110th Street (1972), which pitted the Italian mob against Black gangsters; John Cassavetes’s 1976 indie classic, The Killing of a Chinese Bookie; The Pope of Greenwich Village (1984), directed by Stuart Rosenberg; and Abel Ferraro’s King of New York (1990).

The Many Saints of Newark is also too closely related to Wim Wenders’ 1977 gangster film, The American Friend, which cut corners on plot points as much as it did on budget. Logic is replaced by street smarts, and continuity is a game of three card monte in B-movie gangster films. The Many Saints of Newark is not exempt. There is a scene where one mobster’s mistress is sleeping with the rival for his turf. Except for one rude stare, the audience doesn’t see it coming. But how it turns out, with the convenient surf and turf to cover the evidence, is telegraphed from a mile away.

Read more

Movies

Once Upon a Time in America Is Every Bit as Great a Gangster Movie as The Godfather

By Tony Sokol

Culture

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre in Real-Life and Pop Culture

By Tony Sokol

Arthur Penn’s genre-redefining Bonnie and Clyde came out in 1967, the same year as The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Roger Corman spared every expense for his B-movie mobsterpiece. There are scenes where it is visibly apparent that a fleet of vintage background cars are just the same few automobiles driven in circles around the set. I’ve seen both movies multiple times, and enjoy them equally each time.

Just because The Many Saints of Newark isn’t a perfect film does not make it less of a classic. It certainly doesn’t make it less appealing for repeated viewings. The film follows a grand tradition of gangster filmmaking: street legal over mainstream currency, it could have fallen off the back of a truck. I would love to see whatever scenes were cut to make it fit into a two-hour viewing, because the film felt rushed. But I will watch it again.

The Many Saints of Newark premieres in theaters and on HBO Max on Friday, Oct. 1.

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The post The Many Saints of Newark Is a Trashy Gangster B-Movie, There’s Nothing Wrong with That appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[fangirlshrewt97]

The Old Guard Fanfic - 5,472,730,538 Possibilities

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Joe/Nicky, Nicky & Nile

Characters: Nile Freeman, Nicolo di Genova, Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Andromache of Scythia 

Rating: General 

Warnings: None 

Additional Tags:  Team as Family, Family Bonding, Brother-Sister Relationships, Fluff, Basically Nile is missing home, And Nicky is a cinnamon roll who finds a way to lessen the ache, and they find a new thing to bond over that does not involve blood, Sudoku

Summary: 

He reached for his pocket and pulled out a pen, tossing it to Nile. “Why not do it now?” “It doesn’t- It’s not the same.” Nile argued, biting her lip. “But you want to do it no? So do it.” Nicky said, gesturing to the paper. Was it really so easy? She put the pen to the paper but stopped. “Yeah no, it feels weird to do it alone.” Nicky hummed, sitting back up in his chair, leaning on his elbows in the table. “I’ll do it with you then.”

Basically, Nile comes across something that makes her think of home, Nicky sees this, and tries his best to help her not feel as lonely. And is also a little bit of a shit about it.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553461

                                                     ///

They were in Malaysia, having finished an easy takedown of a small ring of human traffickers. They were due to fly out that night, so Nicky and Nile had been charged with buying the necessary supplies while Joe handled clean up at the scene, and Andy ensured the children would find good homes.

They had stopped at a bakery inside of a mall, Nicky insisting that they had some choice sweets that Andy loved. So Nile had been waiting outside the store while Nicky went to make his purchases when the small bookstore window display across the bakery caught her eye. Biting her lip, she peered to see Nicky was still busy perusing the wares, so she hefted her bags and made her way into the bookstore.

It was a small shop, barely large enough for four people at a time. There was a small kid looking at some comics and a bored cashier scrolling through his phone. Setting her bags down, Nile reached to grab what had caught her eye.

“What is that?” Nicky asked suddenly, startling Nile into dropping the book.

“Shit. Sorry.” Nile mumbled in the direction of the annoyed looking cashier. When she turned, she saw Nicky holding the book.

“101 Sudoku puzzles?” Nicky asked, brows furrowed.

Nile was thankful her skin color meant he couldn’t notice the embarrassed flush overtaking her.

“It is stupid!” Nile said as she snatched the book and put it back on the display, wincing as she realized it would have been more believable if she hadn’t acted like she had something to hide. Nicky had a raised eyebrow, clearly not buying her lie.

Nile sighed. “Seriously, Nicky. It is nothing, can we go? Are you done looking at the bread?”

Nicky gave her a once over, but thankfully let it go, holding up a bag that honestly smelled incredible. Feeling her stomach clench in hunger, she nodded.

“Cool. Let’s go!” Nile said, leading them out of the bookshop into the sweltering Malaysian sun. She definitely did not run. She just… walked fast.

She forgot the incident soon after, Copley sent them on another mission hours after they reached their next safe house, sending them all the way to Brazil, where they had to take down a drug ring and free a brothel filled with women who were being forced to pay back their debts with their bodies.

She was reminded of the incident when something was placed next to her head where it was currently resting on a table’s edge at their São Paulo safe house. It was a small apartment, two bedroom and bathrooms, but it fit their needs. Andy was currently on the phone with Copley, and Joe had gone into the kitchen to make dinner.

When she looked up, she saw a newspaper, and Nicky’s hand covering part of the page. At her questioning look, he just smiled and moved his hand.

Sitting back slowly, she looked at the Sudoku in the newspaper. She raised her own eyebrows at Nicky. The man just smiled wider and sat down. “This is what you were looking at in the bookshop. In Malaysia. A book about these.”

“Um… yeah.” Nile said, surprised the man had remembered. But then again, Nicky seemed to remember everything when it came to stuff that caused his family to have any kind of reaction.

“What about it?” Nicky asked.

“What?”

“Your eyes, they became a little sad when you saw it. What about them makes you sad?” Nicky prodded gently. And Nile couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed at this man who was trying to hard.

She sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“If it was nothing, it wouldn’t make you sigh.”

And that was the thing wasn’t it. “It’s just. Jamal, my brother? We used to play with these.”

Nicky’s brows furrowed in confusion. For a 1000-year old man, he was remarkably expressive at times. “Play these?”

Nile hummed. She picked up the paper, and ran her fingers lightly on the puzzle. “After school, we would take the paper, copy out the puzzle into a notebook and then we would start the clock, seeing who could solve it faster.”

Nile felt a smile start to form on her own face at the thought. She had missed doing these, missed doing them with her brother. Her smile faded when she realized she’d never get to do their Sudoku races together again. Nile placed the paper back down.

When she looked up, Nicky was looking at her intensely. “What?”

Giving a big exhale, he leaned back in his own chair. He reached for his pocket and pulled out a pen, tossing it to Nile. “Why not do it now?”

“It doesn’t- It’s not the same.” Nile argued, biting her lip.

“But you want to do it no? So do it.” Nicky said, gesturing to the paper.

Was it really so easy? She put the pen to the paper but stopped. “Yeah no, it feels weird to do it alone.”

Nicky hummed, sitting back up in his chair, leaning on his elbows in the table. “I’ll do it with you then.”

Nile blinked, but twisted her mouth into a wry grin. “Sure. Ok, here is how you do it. You see how this divided into 9 boxes? The objective of the game is to fill all the boxes in such a way that each box, row, and column has 1 through 9 written on them, with no repeating in them. Like here for example,” she showed one box, “see these four 3’s? That means a 3 can only come here, because it is the only box where it won’t overlap. Got it?”

Nicky hummed concomitantly, his eyes amused. “Yes.”

“Alright, let’s do it then.” Nile said. She shifted her chair so she was next to Nicky, and the pair of them leaned over the puzzle to do it together, Nicky pointing out a few numbers as Nile finished it.

“That was fun.” Nicky said when they completed it. “We should do this again.”

And to Nile’s surprise, she found herself in agreement. She felt a pang of sadness at not doing it with Nicky, but it was still fun. “Yes we should.”

They got another job the next day and were whizzing off again, this time to South Africa. Their safe house in Cape Town was a beach front apartment, bought by Andy back in the 80’s. It was an old building, quiet and creaking, but served its purpose.

Andy was on cooking duty this time, and Nile was given first turn with the shower, when Joe and Nicky returned from their shopping trip for new clothes. Nile did not think she had ever bought this many clothes so quickly in her life, but honestly, she had also not had a habit of constantly getting shot and covering them in blood and bullet holes.

By the time Nile came out, Joe was sitting in front of the TV, flipping channels, probably trying to find a soccer match. Andy had a plate of food and was sitting beside him, more focused on her dinner than the match. When Nicky spotted Nile, he made a happy noise and gestured for her to join him at the dining table.

“I saw these on our way back, and thought that if you did not mind, we could continue that tradition you told me about?” he asked, eyes betraying his excitement, even as his voice remained steady.

“Tradition?” Nile asked.

Nicky nodded and reached for a small brown bag she hadn’t noticed. He pulled out two identical books and a packet of pens, and slid one of each to Nile. Nile bit her lip at the time. 400 Sudoku Puzzles.

“Nicky…” Nile whispered, even as she clutched the book in a white-knuckled grip.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to Nile.” Nicky assured her when he saw her tear up, worry coloring his expression.

And oh, Nile could not stand to see that concern when all this man had tried to do was give her a piece of home back to her.

“No. Thank you. I had fun last time.” she said, giving him a watery smile. He responded in kind. “Are you sure about races though?”

His eyes took on a wicked glint. “Absolutely. It is tradition no?”

Nile chuckled. “Yes.”

“Joe!” Nicky called out, and Joe turned to see him, getting up to come to them when Nicky beckoned. He pressed a quick kiss to Nicky’s hair when he was within reach. “I need you to time us.”

“Time you?”

“Nicky and I are going to complete Sudoku’s and we are going to see who can finish faster.”

For some reason that made Joe bark a laugh. “You and Nicky?”

Nile frowned. “Yes? Why, you have a problem?”

“No, no, dearest Nile, I would be honored to keep time.” he said as he continued to wear a wide grin, pulling up his phone.

Nile squinted at him before turning to Nicky. “Should we just do the first puzzle?”

“Seems logical.” Nicky said as he flipped to the appropriate page.

Both of them uncapped their pens and got ready before glancing at Joe. Andy had turned around in the sofa, watching the two of them instead of the TV.

“Are you ready?” Joe asked, and their nods, “1, 2, 3, GO!”

Nile focused on the puzzle, going by each square methodically, crossing off the possibilities mentally in her head. It was an easy puzzle, so she did not have to write down all the potential numbers. And yet, she was startled when Nicky slammed his book down with a “Done!” when she was only halfway through hers

“Wait what?” Nile asked, reaching to grab the older man’s book while Joe leaned back in his chair, laughing.

“1 minute 15 seconds Nicky! Good job!”

Nile gaped as she looked at the puzzled solved perfectly. She placed the book down and glared at the Italian man, who now at least had the wherewithal to look sheepish. “Explain.”

It wasn’t quite a growl but close enough.

Nicky blushed, and Joe answered for him. “Nile, uhkt sageera, Nicky and I have lived for a thousand years now. Not to mention that Nicky has been doing the New York Times crossword puzzle since it was first published, in what? 1940? 1945? He tended to do the other puzzles too. I believe the first Sudoku puzzle was in the UK? I remember him being excited about it.”

Nile stared at him, jaw open while Andy started to cackle in the background. She spun in her seat, half furious, half indignant. “You cheater!”

Nicky put up both hands in surrender. “I didn’t exactly cheat Nile!”

“I thought you had never done Sudokus before! I thought you were humoring me!”

“Well-”

“Oh my god, I explained how to solve a Sudoku to you in São Paulo, why didn’t you say anything?”

“You seemed very passionate…”

“Nicky…” she growled only to sit back heavily in her chair, definitely not pouting, no matter how fond Joe looked at her.

Nicky’s own sheepish look was slowly transforming into a playful grin and she rolled her eyes in exasperation before laughing. “Alright, fine, this was on me.”

“I had a lot of fun Nile. I would enjoy doing this again.”

Nile groaned, tilting her head back and covering her face, exaggerating the dramatics because it drew more laughs from her family, and she was coming to treasure these laughs as much as those of her mother and brother.

She sat back when the laughter died down, taking the Sudoku book in hand. “I would like that too Nicky. Guess there is another aspect of the tradition we are going to be repeating too now though.”

When Nicky looked at her confused, her wry look transformed into a fond grin. “I am fated to always lose at Sudoku races to my big brother apparently.”

“Nile…” Nicky breathed her voice as though it was something delicate. Precious. And then he got up and came around the table to pull her into a hug she returned with all her strength. “Non riesco a immaginare un onore più grande dell'essere tuo fratello, sorellina.”

Even if she didn’t understand the words, she understood the meaning, and a small part of the hole created by her family was filled in.

“I love you too, Nicky.”

And she did, this man who was willing to die for her, to kill to protect her.

Even if it meant an eternity losing Sudoku races to him.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfic #my fic #my writing #nicolo di genova #nile freeman #andromache the scythian #yusuf al kaysani #nicky x joe #joe x nicky #immortal husbands #crugayders #let me know what you think!