#anyway i think this knife is very practical in home garden

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

traditional knife 石镰shilian specially used to harvest glutinous rice

#china #fun #video #miscellaneous #the same stone knife was unearthed in liangzhu culture良渚文化 #op says they chose manual harvesting is because the glutinous rice isn't that much #glutinous rice are not necessary staple food #terrace farming in mountainous areas also makes machine harvesting inconvenient #others say it's just for video #anyway i think this knife is very practical in home garden #i'm not good at caring for plants #there are often withered stems #shilian must be easier to use than ordinary scissors

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

[thedreamlessnights]

Someone to shed some light - pt. 1

Astarion x gn!reader (Upcoming NSFW)

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: After being raised as a commoner, you find yourself as the last in a royal bloodline, forced into a marriage with someone you've never met. He's more than he seems. AKA: An arranged marriage AU with everyone's favorite vampire.

Warnings: Brief mentions of blood, death, and minor injuries. Mentions of sex, but nothing particularly graphic. Very brief, not graphic suicidal ideation.

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This idea possessed me and did not let me go. I don't know where it came from, or how on earth it's already 6k. I'm feral for Astarion, and it just... happened. Anyway. The royalty aspects are not remotely lore-accurate to the Baldur's Gate games, for which I apologize. Sometimes you just have to make shit up.

If reality is meant to be believable, then you must be in a dream. 

No one ever said what kind of dream, though. Not a dream you’d wanted, that’s for sure. Most days, this all feels like some horrible nightmare. But maybe, just maybe - if you close your eyes and stay exactly where you are, thinking about nothing at all - it could be a nice one. 

The palace gardens are beautiful, after all. Even this place can’t ruin that. 

Silver moonlight shines on the earth below, giving everything a ghostly cast. Soft, silky wind brushes against your skin, and the faint aroma of flowers fills the air. Honeysuckle. Roses. Lilies. 

Yes. If you shut your eyes tight and pretended everything else away, it would be a nice dream. But you know better. Beyond the lovely gardens and the ornamented walls, this place is a prison. And never, not in a thousand years, could you have pictured anything like this happening to you. 

Not even in a dream.

You’ve never been one to fantasize about being royalty. Riches and power simply don’t appeal to you that way, especially not when comfortable clothes and the freedom to be yourself are traded in for the sake of discomfort and diplomacy. 

Still, the reality of it is somehow even worse than you’d thought. The clothes pinch at your sides and itch at your neck, and you can’t move in them the way you want to. Everything you’ve worn is stiff and tight and ridiculously heavy, as if all your outfits were made for a doll, not for someone alive. Then again, maybe that was the intention. You certainly feel like a puppet. 

If only none of it was real. 

You still haven’t accepted any of it, not really. It’s as if you’re waiting for someone in the shadows to jump out at you and laugh, telling you it was all pretend. Of course you aren’t royalty, they’d say. Of course you don’t belong here. And you’d go back to your home, where everything is right, where you belong. 

You can still see it all in your mind, so real that it’s practically touchable. The thought of it never fully fades. Just as soon as you’ve closed your eyes, you find yourself reliving that day once more.

The smell of baking bread floods a warm room. The heat of the fire sears the air. Customers bustle in and out, laughing and drinking and picking fights. Home. The way you’ve always known it. The way you’ve always loved it.

Then the room slowly goes silent. Wary. Palace guards lurk in the doorway, their eyes sweeping over the crowd, and your fingers immediately itch for your knife. The crown hasn’t any business in this place - what could they want?

When one of them steps inside, gazing at the crowd like they’re dirt beneath his feet, it takes everything you’ve got in you to stay calm. You can practically hear Cal’s voice in your head, telling you to take some deep breaths.

As the guard stalls in front of you, he stares. His gaze runs over you slowly, like you were less than he’d expected - a disappointment to him without even trying. “You,” he says. “You’re coming with us. Queen’s orders.”

Every pair of eyes in the inn land on you. Your heart starts beating so fast and rough that you’re sure it’ll burst straight through your ribs and fall out of you. The room spins. You’re biting your tongue, resisting the urge to pick a fight, because Cal is shaking his head and tugging at your sleeve. The single voice of reason in this place. Blood slowly fills your mouth with the taste of iron. 

And you go with them. For some godsdamned reason, you go.

As soon as you’ve left, you know it was a mistake. There’s a whole troop here - enough men to tell you that you’re considered a threat, somehow. Enough men to keep your arms folded into you, wondering what in the hells you could have done to warrant this attention. 

Despite everything, you force yourself to maintain some dignity, keeping your shoulders squared until you get to the palace. You suck in deep breaths and try to hide your shaking hands. This place… it won’t get the better of you, if you can help it. But it’ll all depend on why you’re here, and furthermore - what they want.

As you approach the throne room, they stand back to let you in. When you hesitate, the leader shoves you through the open door, and it slams shut behind you with a sound that echoes throughout the room. You’re left in a large, empty place with two shadowy figures that become clearer as you step further in. You recognize only one of them.

The queen is entrancing in the flesh, all dark hair and flashing eyes. She says nothing, but her gaze analyzes you from her throne as the man - who, from the look of things, must be her court sorcerer - approaches you. A needle pricks your finger and leaves a dull throbbing in its place. 

Silence. A nod. 

“It’s true, then,” the queen says. Her voice is like wine, dark and smooth in your ears. “You’re a child of Calthir. Royal blood flows in your veins.”

You’re standing in front of her, squinting in the bright light. Her words seem a million words away. Some other dimension. Some other reality.

“I - I don’t…”

“You poor thing. You didn’t know?” she asks. “Well. Perhaps they were clever to keep it from you. Or perhaps not.” 

“It isn’t possible,” you blurt out. “What you’re saying. I can’t be… that.”

She raises a brow. “But you are.”

This time, your nails draw blood when they curve into your palms. Stinging pain floods your senses. “Then what do you want from me?” you ask, unable to mask the frustration brimming your words. “Calthir fell when I was a child. I don’t even remember it.”

“Where are your parents?” she asks.

You swallow hard. “Dead. Just after I was born.”

For a long moment, she stares down at you, her dark, intelligent eyes gleaming in the light. “Calthir has fallen, yes. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t alive.” Her words are measured, carefully chosen for the most impact. “Every day, more of my soldiers are lost to Calthirian dreamers. They want their kingdom back, their so-called rightful ruler placed on the throne. You. They’ve been searching for you. Do you understand?”

You do. “You’re going to kill me.”

She clicks her tongue. “And make the problem worse?” With a graceful movement, she gets to her feet, towering over you from her throne. “No. Their search is thorough, aided by magic. They’d discover your fate, sooner or later.” She pauses, lifting two fingers to her temples as if sensing an oncoming headache. “You’d become a martyr. Mass kindling for the zealots. I won’t have that.

“Then what?” you ask weakly. “Prison?”

She laughs hollowly. “And what good would that do?”

You can’t think of an answer.

“No,” she sighs. “Prison would be pointless. A waste. I still have use for you.”

Fear floods your gut, thick and dark. When you speak, your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. “Which is?”

She tilts her head. “I’m sure you’ll find it simple enough. You’re going to marry my son.”

In the gardens, the crickets are singing. It’s the first thing you notice when you come back to yourself, ears ringing. You’ve gone through that memory a hundred times, but it seems more real now, sharper, somehow. Your stomach churns with the urge to be sick, but the feeling fades quickly. 

It’s starting to settle in. That this is your life now. You’ll likely never see your home again. Your friends. All of your ambition, gone - thrown away for some petty diplomacy. You’re engaged to a man you’ve never met, and for the rest of your life, he’ll be tied to you.

More than anything else in this place, the prince doesn’t seem real. Even his name feels foreign in your thoughts, a muddy figure you can never put a face on. Strangely enough, the palace doesn’t have any portraits of him - which doesn’t put you any more at ease - and none of the servants will talk to you about him. You’ve been here over a week and still haven’t seen him, not even for a moment. Not even a glimpse.

Maybe you’ll never meet him. That’d be nice.

You doubt you’ll get so lucky.

The rest of the night passes by slowly, oozing along like syrup. You’re more than happy to sit in relative silence and enjoy the peace while it lasts. After all, this kind of freedom will be a rare thing, soon. Your eyes start to grow heavy, but you have no desire to head back inside. Not yet. 

When it’s long past midnight, the sound of a snapping branch behind you startles you to your feet. Your knife is gone, taken by the guards, but you reach for it all the same, cursing when you come up empty . But there’s nothing when you turn - nothing dangerous, at least. Just a squirrel, scurrying up a tree. 

Just as you’re about to return to your seat, a man comes stumbling out of the woods, scaring you half to death. He halts in his tracks as he sees you, eyes widening as he looks at you. He must not have expected anyone to be out this late at night, and you can’t blame him. It is absurdly late. And yet, here you are, and there’s nothing stopping you from taking in every inch of his clearly guilty appearance. 

The first thing you see, because it would be impossible to miss, is the blood. It’s all over him, splattered across his face and tattered clothes, staining his hands. His silky white hair curls around his pointed ears, dirtied with dirt and leaves. His dark eyes that you can’t quite make out the color of lock onto your every move.

He’s handsome. And, from the look of things, he’s probably going to kill you. 

You aren’t quite sure whether or not you want him to, considering everything. You wouldn’t have to go through with the sham of a marriage if you’re dead. Then again… are you really ready to let go?

For a moment, neither of you move. Your heart is thrumming under your ribs, and your feet are frozen where you stand. His fear turns into something else - puzzlement. His head tilts ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he takes a step back. You don’t move, because what could you do? Chase him? You’re not that much of a fool.

He chances another step away, and when you still don’t react, a third. And just like that, the man vanishes into the night, and you’re left alive and unscathed, staring out into the darkness of the woods he’d come from. 

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed he hadn’t killed you, or at least tried. It would have been exciting, at least.

After a few more minutes of nothing but silence, you turn on your heel and head back inside. The next time you see him is three weeks later, and until then, there’s not a moment he’s not in your thoughts.

As the days pass, you soon come to realize that the worst thing about this place is the boredom. It should be a thousand other things - the pinching clothes, the ache of your old life that never stops throbbing in your chest, the soon-to-be husband you haven’t even seen - but it isn’t. It’s the never-ending, constant boredom.

Gods, is it ever boring. You read every decent book in the library. You walk around the gardens at least five times a day, looking for something new. You linger around the courtyards, hoping for a bit of gossip. And every day, it’s all the same, and there’s nothing. And every day, you think of the strange man in the woods and wonder who or what he possibly could have killed. You’d checked the woods the next morning but came up completely empty.

As the wedding approaches, the air around the castle grows thick and tense. Arguments ring out from the halls about this or that - flowers, invitations, food. You’re shoved into at least twenty different potential outfits to see how they look, pinched and prodded. Servants scrub your skin raw despite your protests, even though it’s still a week away. 

The queen is almost as rare a sight as her son is, though you do catch her slipping through the main hall once. She hasn’t spoken to you since that first day. Perhaps isolation runs in the family.

Which is why it’s so surprising when, three nights before the wedding, you hear her voice coming from a passage down the hall. It’s late. You should be sleeping, but your thoughts have kept you awake, and you’re roaming the halls like an aimless ghost. Your feet stall when you hear the echoing of words - something shouted not far from you. 

From the sound of it, she’s in the east wing, an off-limit portion of the castle you’d been told was dangerous and in dire need of repair. You’d only listened at the time because no one else went in there, not even the servants. But now… 

You chance edging in a little closer, keeping your steps quiet and your body in shadow. When you manage to sneak a look, Queen Erelin is standing in the midst of floors so clean that they shine, shouting at one of the closed doors.

“Every time I do anything for you, you fight with me,” she snarls, pacing up and down the hall. “I am doing what is best for you! Making you better! Why can’t you understand that?”

When no answer comes, she stalls in front of the door, lets out a long, heavy sigh, then throws her hands into the air and mutters something final under her breath. She leaves without so much as a glance toward your hiding spot. Your breath comes out in a whoosh of relief, tension flooding out of your shoulders.

When the fear is finally gone, curiosity takes its place. The east wing is silent and open, practically begging you to take a look, and you’re not in a place to resist. When you move closer, you can see warm light flooding out from underneath a door - the one she’d been shouting at. It’s not difficult to guess who must be in there, considering the facts. Would he answer, if you knocked? Would he talk to you? 

A long moment passes in silence as flickers of movement spill their way under the door. Well, if you’re going to spend your life with him, you might as well find out what he’s like in advance. But just as you’re about to take a step forward, something stops you - a sensation you don’t recognize. The feeling trickles down your neck, plants itself deep into your chest as if it’d sunk straight through your skin - icy and dark and making you shudder as you wrap your arms around yourself for warmth.

After one final look toward the hall, you head to bed. The feeling fades. And, for the next few days, every time you look at the east wing, it’s shut tight.

Part of you is glad for it.

Despite your best efforts, the wedding rolls closer and closer, and as a horrible result, you get hardly any time to yourself. You’re escorted around, forced into fittings and rehearsals and who knows what else. The prince still never shows, but the queen is absolutely everywhere. She floats from room to room, dark circles under her eyes as she approves or denies things entry. She glances at you when she notices you, then shakes her head. 

“I’d be the happiest woman in the world if I never had to plan a wedding again,” she says. 

You resist the urge to point out that she was the one who’d wanted this.

On the day of, you’re ripped out of bed at a miserable hour, scrubbed clean, slathered in creams and fragrances, forced into yet another torturous outfit, and shoved out into the halls. People filter around you, carrying flowers and pastries and various trinkets. You stand there feeling like you can’t breathe until an arm loops around yours and starts pulling you through the crowd.

“Come,” the queen says. You don’t argue with her. She’s looking much better than before, well-rested and her cheeks rosy, porcelain skin glowing in the light. Her dress, light-blue, weightlessly flutters around her. “Given these last few weeks,” she starts, her eyes fixed in front of her. “Well. You must be curious about your husband-to-be.”

You are curious, yes. But you keep your lips shut tight. 

She shoots you a piercing look. “I expect you to be polite,” she says. “He is your prince, after all. And one day, your king.”

Only then do you realize she’s leading you straight into the east wing - but not to the door she’d shouted at before. Further down the hall, into a giant room filled with books and servants and a tailor, fussing over some clothes. A man stands in the corner, and when he turns to look at you, you stop dead in your tracks.

It’s him. The one you’d seen that night, covered in blood. His eyes widen when he sees you, and all you can do is stare at him like a fool. You don't know how you hadn’t put that together - the mysterious prince, never showing his face, and the stranger in the woods, covered in blood. But then…

The way you’d seen him then is the complete opposite of everything he is now. The opposite of everything in this place, every spotless, perfect little thing that makes you feel so wrong being here. He’d been dirty, clothes simple and torn, hair mussed and covered in leaves. Here, he’s clean, dressed in extravagant clothes, so pristine and put together that not an inch of him looks out of place. 

Of course you hadn’t considered it. Just like you, he hadn’t seemed like he belonged here. But you were wrong. He fits in the same as everyone else. 

His eyes, as it turns out, are a dark, gleaming red.

“Astarion,” the queen says, letting go of your arm and stepping away. “I trust you remember your manners?”

His gaze doesn’t leave your face, even for a moment. “But of course,” he says, his tone sultry and smooth. He steps closer, taking your hand in his, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he presses a kiss to the skin. Your stomach flutters at the action even though you should know better. 

His touch is ice-cold. 

In his eyes, you see exactly what you are: a threat. Maybe he’ll kill you after all. Then again - he can’t. They need you alive. That’s why they’re doing all of this in the first place. 

“Prince Astarion,” you greet. That touch has put some danger into you, a spark that won’t settle in your veins. You can’t help yourself, can’t hold your tongue. “It’s nice to see you again,” you find yourself saying. “I hope you’ve recovered from the incident in the gardens?”

For the barest moment, his eyes narrow. But just as quickly as his distaste is there, it’s gone, tucked under a pasted-on smile. “Why yes, I have,” he says, tilting his head. “Healthy and clean as ever.” He takes another step toward you, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear before he leans in close, so near that you can feel his breath on your cheek. 

“Not another word,” he murmurs, his voice dark and low. He smells clean and herbal - you catch notes of bergamot and rosemary, enticing and dizzying. A light hint of something else: wine, perhaps. He’s stepped away before you can fully place it.

“I didn’t realize you’d met,” the queen says, her eyes flickering between you and Astarion. 

“It was rather brief,” he answers. 

She looks like she’s about to ask something else, but a loud crash from the main hall distracts her. “Shit,” she curses, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’d better go see what that was.” Then she turns her gaze to you, nodding for you to join her. “Come along, now. It’ll be starting soon.”

You look back at Astarion. “Well, then. Goodbye, Your Majesty,” you tell him. “I suppose I’ll see you soon.”

The corner of his mouth flicks into a smile. “That you will,” he replies.

Everything else turns into a blur. 

You’re rushed from place to place, forced to recite the stupid vows over and over again until they’re convinced you’ve got them down, preened over and prodded until you’re raw. Your feet start to ache along with your head, and all you can think about is wanting to be home and… well, as much as you hate to admit it, you think about Astarion. He might as well be a plague for how much he’s infected your thoughts. 

You think of him, covered in blood, then spotlessly clean. You think of his voice, low in your ear, and his touch, and the smell of him that still lingers somewhere on your skin. Had he planned this, somehow? A ruse to get into your head? No. You’re being ridiculous. He hadn’t known you were the one who’d seen him - of course he hadn’t planned it.

If only it had been anyone else.

“Quick!” someone says. “It’s starting!”

Your heart drops straight down to your stomach as the drone of an organ hits the air. Nearby hands scrabble around for various items, clawing like animals. A stranger grabs your arm and drags you around like a doll, throwing instructions at you.

And just like that, you find yourself in front of the prince again. 

This time, instead of a dozen people or so, there are hundreds of people in the room. You needn’t have worried about being here with him. Nothing has ever felt less intimate. 

Your vows are rehearsed and devoid of any emotion, even though you really are trying. His are more convincing, perhaps, but they’re coached all the same. Still, when he takes your hand and slides on the ring, your stomach flutters. You slide his ring on with shaking fingers and just like that - you’re married.

“You may kiss,” the priest says, and your soul instantly exits your body. Gods, this can’t be real. None of this. 

But it is. Astarion leans in, his hand settling on your cheek, and kisses you. 

It’s clearly meant to be a quick, chaste kiss, but his lips are soft, and he smells so very nice, and the chill of his touch on your cheek is both soothing and strangely intoxicating. It’s as instinctive as breathing when the kiss deepens, when you find your fingers fisted into his shirt and his hand curls a little tighter around your jaw.

That is to say, the kiss is neither quick nor chaste, and when you pull away, there’s no small amount of cheering from the crowd. You want to melt into the floor.

When you finally muster up the ability to look at him again, Astarion tilts his head and raises his brows - a question you don’t at all want to decipher. You simply shake your head in response.

He loops his arm through yours, takes you down into the crowds, and escorts you through the room, effortlessly witty, devilishly charming. You don’t know how he does it. When people start talking to you, you can hardly get the words out of your mouth. You’re still half in shock, and Astarion’s presence isn’t helping.

The smell of him you couldn’t place earlier reveals itself to be brandy. 

How incredibly pretentious.

After what seems like hours of forced conversation, Astarion leads you over to the tables of food and drink, placing a glass of wine in your hand that you gratefully start to gulp down.

He sips at his wine, pasting on a smile when people wave at him, then turns his gaze to you. “You know, darling,” he murmurs, quirking a brow, “it wouldn’t hurt to make an effort.”

You grip your wine tighter, shooting him a scowl. “I am making an effort,” you hiss. 

He gives you another one of his false smiles. “As passionate as that kiss was, I’m afraid that doesn’t count.”

Shutting your eyes, you take in a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. Not all of us are good at this like you are. Talking to people.”

“Well, my sweet,” he replies tightly, and for the first time, you can hear frustration lining his words. “I appreciate the compliment, but we still need to convince everyone here that we are madly in love. And that takes more than a kiss.” He takes the glass from your hands - much to your dismay - and places it on a servant’s tray, interlocking his arm with yours again. “So try a bit harder, won’t you?”

Gods, you can’t stand him.

When you go back to speaking, you try your best to be charismatic - but only because you can feel Erelin’s eyes on you, and you don’t dare upset her. Not that your best efforts make you succeed, unfortunately. Astarion has to swoop in several times to save you from the awkward turn of things.

When you finally get another moment to breathe, he guides you to a silent corner, puts an arm around you, and leans in close. “For the love of the gods,” he says. “You’re driving us both into the dirt with your horrid conversational skills.” He inhales deeply and sighs, collecting himself for a moment. “How about this - I will take on the heavier conversations, and you can just… pay compliments.”

“Pay compliments?” you ask incredulously, taking care not to be too loud. “How in the hells am I supposed to do that? I don’t know any of these people!”

“Oh, it’s easy,” he says, waving his free hand dismissively. “Tell the women you like the dress they’re wearing, or their necklace, or… I don’t know - their perfume. They’ll go on about it for ages, and you won’t have to do anything but smile and nod.”

This sounds much too easy to be true. “You’re sure that it’ll work?” 

“Trust me,” he replies. “The more we keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, the better off we’ll be.”

Anger flares in your chest at his words, red-hot. “Quite the charmer, aren’t you?” you ask.

“That I am,” he says, pulling you closer. “I’m so glad you noticed.”

Anywhere else, you’d have elbowed him in the stomach. Hard. Unfortunately, you’re in front of hundreds of people, and it would lead to a large number of very awkward conversations. So, instead, you paste on a smile and think of home.

You aren’t in a palace. You’re in your tavern, talking to customers. This is easy, and you definitely don’t hate it. At all. 

When the next couple approaches you, Astarion takes the lead, and you smile wordlessly and nod. When a null in the conversation arrives, you tell the woman you like her dress. Which, luckily, you do. It’s masterfully made, gold embroidery along a shimmering turquoise fabric.

Her face lights up. “Isn’t it just gorgeous?” she asks. “I searched for days when I heard about the wedding. Only the best for me, I always say. Anyway, there was this girl who ran a shop I went to - Martha, her name was - and she told me she had just the thing. And I tried it on, and it was perfect, only, well… it didn’t quite fit. But I knew I’d never want anything else now that I’d seen it, and I thought to myself, oh gods, I can’t turn up like this to the wedding! So I told my mum about it, and she said, ‘Don’t you worry! I’ll take care of it!’ And then, when I went to get it, clumsy me, I spilled half a glass of wine on it! I was just thinking it was lost forever when my neighbor came, and…”

And… what her neighbor did, you’ll never know. It’s completely lost to you, because when you look over to Astarion, he looks ridiculously smug. You can practically hear his voice in your head, saying ‘I told you so.’ You resist the urge to elbow him once again and turn your attention back to the girl, who is just now finishing her story.

“...and then, we arrived here, and saw you! And the wedding! My gods, what a sight. You two really do suit each other, you know. But Thom and I really should be going. There’s a lot of people for you to meet, and we wouldn’t want to keep you from tonight, if you know what I mean.”

She winks at you, and your cheeks go as hot as Avernus. 

“Well,” Astarion says quickly, “thank you both for coming!”

“Oh, of course,” she replies. “Enjoy yourselves, you two!” She gives a sly grin and then she’s off, leaving you feeling like you’re about to shatter into a million pieces.

Tonight. How could you forget?

It isn’t that you hadn’t thought about the fact that sex would be expected of you - it’s just that… well, it’d seemed so far away before. Back when you’d been thinking about it, you hadn’t known who it would be with, and it had all seemed like it was going to be a dream. Something that would never actually happen.

But here you are. 

You can’t say Astarion isn’t handsome, because he very much is. You can’t say you aren’t terribly attracted to him, because, infuriatingly, you are - no matter how much you hate the fact. But whether or not you’re comfortable with him touching you that way is a completely different matter, and, honestly? You have absolutely no clue how you’re going to tell him that you’ve never been with anyone. Or how he’ll handle it. 

Gods help you.

“You see?” Astarion tells you, slowly walking you over to the next group. “I told you it would work. Just keep that up, and all of this will soon be over.”

And over it soon is, much quicker than you’d like. You’d stay out chatting all night if you could avoid what comes next, but there aren’t many others to greet, and eventually there’s no one left to talk to. There’s hardly any food remaining either, which makes you want to cry. You’re starving. Your feet hurt. You want to crawl into bed and sleep for an eternity. 

Astarion, as if he can read your mind, finally leads you out of the room and heads straight to the kitchens, releasing your arm when you arrive. “Here we are,” he says. “We wouldn’t want you going to bed hungry, now would we?”

You try not to think about the implications of that statement as you eat. You try not to think about the way he leans against the wall next to you, seemingly not interested in the food. In fact, you try not to think about anything at all. 

It doesn’t work.

The food is a welcome distraction, at least. That’s one good thing about this place. The gardens are nice, the beds are soft, and the food is delicious. You never have to go to sleep without eating, which is a new feeling. You just wish it didn’t all come with a cost.

When you’re finished up, Astarion raises a brow at you and straightens up. “Well,” he says, “we’d better go find my mother.”

Erelin looks exhausted after the celebrations. She doesn’t bother with any formalities, just nods for you to follow. 

“I’ll show you to your new room,” she sighs. “Don’t forget - tomorrow, the two of you are off for the honeymoon. I’m trusting you both to keep up appearances, yes?” She gives you a pointed look. 

“Right,” you reply.

She sighs again. “This way.”

She leads you back into the east wing, this time to a large room around the corner - one you haven’t seen before. It’s gigantic. You’d thought your bed was huge when you arrived, but this? It practically takes up half the room. Bookshelves line the walls, the windows glisten in the moonlight, and there’s a large vanity in the corner, presumably for you. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” Erelin says, leaning against the doorway. “Just remember: you’ve done a great service for this kingdom.”

The door closes, and for the first time today, you and Astarion are completely alone. There are no servants, no guards posted along the walls, no crowds of adoring citizens. Just you, and him. And you have no idea what comes next.

In truth, all you want to do is to jump into the huge, fluffy-looking bed and sleep. But, of course, it isn’t that simple. For one, your clothes are intricately laced. There’s a privacy curtain in the corner, but you can’t remove the lacing by yourself. Then there’s the matter of what’s expected of you. What you’re dreading. And that’ll have to come before sleep, too.

Astarion isn’t exactly paying attention to you, though. He’s mulling around the room, examining the books, looking over the vanity. You’re relieved, but you know it won’t last. And, honestly? If it comes down to it, you’d rather just get it over with.

“Would you mind giving me a hand with this?” you ask.

He finally looks at you, gaze focusing on the lacing you’re helplessly trying to undo. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says. 

By the hells, he’s irritating. Still, he comes over to help you without complaint, deftly pulling apart the lacing until the ribbons finally come free. You’re expecting him to go further - to start undressing you, or touching you, or… anything, but he just steps away. 

“There you are,” he says.

Your throat goes thick. “I… Thank you,” you say softly.

He hums in response. “I’d make for a poor husband if I didn’t help undress you, wouldn’t I?”

The word husband sends electricity through your veins. He really is your husband, isn’t he? It feels incredibly strange. 

When you turn to scowl at him, Astarion is already gone, returned to his place by the books. You suck in a deep breath to compose yourself, then grab the change of clothes they’ve left for you and slip into it, folding up your old outfit as neatly as you can. 

As soon as you take a seat on the bed, your heart starts beating thickly against your ribs. It’s an unsteady pattern, the thump of it. It gets faster when Astarion moves, then goes quiet when he simply grabs his sleep clothes and changes behind the curtain. It drums hard and rough when he emerges, but settles down when he crosses over to his side of the bed and blows out the candle.

The room goes pitch dark.

“You’d better get your rest while you can,” he tells you. “I’m sure they’ll wake us at a horrendous hour tomorrow.”

You stay motionless in the dark for a moment or two before what he’s saying hits you. As if his words have broken a dam inside you, all the tension floods out of your body. You climb into the sheets, weightless in sheer relief, and find the bed incredibly soft. You can hear him tucking himself into the space near you, shifting around to get comfortable, and it’s strangely intimate. Still, with the size of the bed, there’s not much danger of accidentally kicking him in the night.

The room is peaceful and the crickets chirp outside, and it doesn’t take long before your eyelids are closing and the pull of sleep comes. Just as you’re drifting off, you realize one thing: 

You’d forgotten to ask him about the blood.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #baldurs gate 3 x reader #mywriting

[twst-drabbles]

Heartslabyul 1

Summary: Make no mistake, just because you treat the pets in your house with frightening casualness didn’t mean that they weren’t worth anything. They’re expensive and highly sought after creatures. Naturally, it attracts the attention of people who want to make a sum of money.

(Hahahahaha finallyyyyyy I get to put these creatures through some trouble and put in some slight lore to the world I’ve crafted for them! This is not all a tough situation for me to write since I’ve written much much harsher, secretly anyway. I do enjoy putting my characters in pain. Gives me a power high. So, don’t hesitate to send any asks that you think are too dark. Also oh boy is it a long one.)

Contrary to popular belief, most robbing don’t actually take place at night. It’s usually during noon, when people are at work or grocery shopping or doing fuck all.  It’s not the first time for him, he wouldn’t call himself a newbie nor would he call himself an expert, but Voliar at least had this much experience in him to know stealing at night was kinda dumb. The skittering of rats was enough to wake him up and he’s not about to make a coin toss on whether the home owners are light or deep sleepers.

See, a client of his was pissed. Not at him but at some other dumb fuck who couldn’t nab the precious dragon of the Draconia family—even though it was right in his fucking hands, the shithead—so in his frustration, the client told him to grab any of the pets from this specific address. Well, not just any pet, it had to be magical in origin, so Voliar couldn’t just grab a dog or something and be done with it.

Voliar honestly thought he had the wrong address. Like seriously, look at all these mansions! With their pools and their fancy brick, oak and glass walls! And fountains, can’t forget those. And then there was this house. A simple two story house with a paint job that was probably done by the owners themselves. It wouldn’t look all that out of place in a gardening community that was recently abandoned. It’s just so small and not new.

Well, that doesn’t really matter. This address was the one sent and he needs to get in there and then out with the goods. From what info was gathers, most of the pets in this house don’t actually belong to the home owner. Sometimes they have land spirits, a naga, or even a siren and dryad duo. As much as it’s tempting to try and nab them—he was given a time frame so he could’ve waited for them to come around—but he was given the order to nab any of these pets.

So, he’ll just grab the ones in the back, the plant nymphs that were making all these plants grow in the backyard. No magician worth his shit would be able to ignore the sheer amount of magic coming out of there. Now that’s a telltale sign of a happy nymph garden. Happy, healthy, and most likely very pretty. Oh the client will pay him big bucks for these little things.

Layered in too many enchantments to count, Voliar jumped over the brick wall separating the backyard from the rest of the neighborhood. His steps were silent even though he made no effort to control his weight or footing. Not even the grass crunched. In this garden, there was a certain controlled chaos to the placement of these plants. The trees had trunks that looks thin and sickly, but the leaves were a vibrant green, the hedges were shaped in such a way that looked as though it was plucked by hand to be that way, with harsh thorns hidden beneath them.

However what truly caught Voliar’s attention was the root system peaking from under the grass. Thin, reedy, delicate looking even. All of it leading to a large rose placed near a window of what he assumes leads to the owner’s bedroom.

There it is. The leader plant nymph had to be there. And the best part? The rose was closed. It was sleeping.

Voliar stepped over the roots, almost making a game of skipping here and there before kneeling down. He took out a knife. With practiced words, began to lay down a spell. Nothing too potent, just enough to nudge the leader nymph into a near coma. Can’t have the thing waking up when he cuts it out. The glamour appeared, about to land on the red petals, but then a blue lily bloomed right in front of it, proud and tall. It took the spell instead.

Huh?

He dropped the knife and nicked a root.. Just one single root, and then the rest of the system grew wild and seized Voliar’s entire body. The roots morphed into painful thorns, digging through his jacket as the rose behind the lily bloomed. A small rose nymph laid in the center, face completely red as it locked its gray eyes with his. Above him, on the window sill, there was a lily nymph and a tulip nymph, arms crossed. And surrounding of thorns that continued to restrict him was hundred and hundreds of plumeria nymphs. Some sitting on the walls, others sitting on the roof. Either way, they watch him.

The blue lily twitched once, then spat back out a glittering glamour right in his face. A drugged up tiredness flowed through his bones, tugging his eyelids downward. At the bottom of the mess he was in, Voliar saw a glimpse of a clover nymphs, touching the root system right at the base.

Nymphs…they’re supposed to be weak little things, completely reliant on the plants they came from, and just as weak and fragile. These things, they’re not normal.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst-drabbles #ask #drabble #riddle #riddle rosehearts #trey #trey clover #cater #cater diamond #ace #ace trappola #deuce #deuce spade #house pet au #heartslabyul #reader insert

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

#metal family #glam metal family #ches metal family #victoria metal family #chess metal family #dee metal family #heavy metal family #metal family glam #metal family victoria #metal family dee #metalfamily #metal family heavy

[rubysunnday]

it’s a love story

a/n: this is a looonnnggg one, but i enjoyed writing it a lot. Thank you to @gryffindors-weasley who’s stories have inspired this one - if you want more sweet Colin please go read their stories!

words: 3,703

summary: Y/N has loved Colin since they were children but it was one-sided. She was content to stand aside and watch Colin move on without her. Until Marina.

Unrequited love hurt.

It was easy to lose yourself in night-time fantasies of a life with the one person you loved - dreaming of your wedding, your house and the day they confessed their feelings to you.

Y/N had loved Colin ever since she’d been a child. It’d started off as nothing more than platonic love - they’d been best friends since childhood, and they’d stayed close over the years as they both grew up and turned into something that vaguely resembled adults.

She’d never revealed how she felt to him. Y/N didn’t want to tell him and run the risk of ruining their friendship. She simply stood aside and watched him flirt with and at almost every woman in London. It never bothered her - it was how Colin was. He flirted and played around but never settled.

Until Marina.

Y/N hadn’t thought twice about how he flirted at Marina. Admittedly, it had hurt to see how close they’d been at Daphne’s wedding party and how besotted Colin seemed to be with her. But Y/N had just thought Marina was another passing fancy who would be married and vanished after the season ended.

But the garden party changed that.

She hadn’t wanted to go. Ever since Daphne’s wedding she’d been keeping her distance from Colin and the Bridgerton House in general, not wanting to set herself up for anymore heart ache and pain then what she was mentally prepared for.

As her carriage pulled up to the gardens, Y/N felt her hands begin to shake. It was ridiculous how nervous she was - nothing had even happened yet! She was just nervous to see Colin and have to disguise her feelings from him and Marina.

Before the wheels of her carriage had even stopped rolling, Eloise ran over and flung open the door, looking up at Y/N expectantly. Benedict reluctantly chased after his sister after his mother shoved him in Eloise’s vague, general direction.

Eloise squinted up at her, attempting to read Y/N’s mind. “Nope, you’re not running away,” she said, reaching up and grabbing her friends’ hand and practically pulling her out the carriage, sensing Y/N’s desire to be anywhere other than there.

“Oh, Eloise, don’t start,” Y/N complained, barely catching herself on Benedict’s outstretched arm as she missed the step entirely and lost her footing.

“If I have to suffer, you have to suffer,” Eloise replied, almost pouting.

Y/N sighed, still clutching Benedict’s arm as she regained her sense. “Eloise, I don’t want to be here. I can’t cope with... well, that,” she waved a hand in the vague general direction of where Colin was.

“And I can’t cope with my mother doing what she does best,” Eloise shot back, snatching Y/N’s hand and pulling her into the gardens. “Now, come along, dear Y/N.”

Not trusting her friend, Y/N grabbed Benedict’s hand and dragged the man along with her, ignoring his muttered complaints as he reluctantly followed after his sister.

Everything seemed to be going fine. Y/N hovered around Benedict and Anthony, making small talk with the two and strategically avoiding looking at or being in the vicinity of Colin and having to talk to him.

Every time she looked over at him, he was with Marina, smiling dumbly at something she’d said and looking stupidly doe-eyed at her.

Marina hadn’t done anything to Y/N and was probably a lovely person, but she still infuriated Y/N beyond belief for no reason at all. Her mere existence irritated her.

Benedict looked up, having asked Y/N a question that had been met with silence. He noticed her staring at Colin and nudged Y/N’s arm. “Stop staring.”

Y/N blinked and turned her head away from Colin, plucking an invisible thread off the cuff of her dress. “Thanks,” she muttered quietly. She hadn’t realised she’d been noticeably staring.

Despite never saying anything, both Eloise and Benedict - and presumably the rest of the Bridgerton household since neither sibling could keep their mouths shut - knew about Y/N’s unrequited love for Colin.

When they’d been children, Colin and Y/N had gotten ‘married’ in the back garden of Bridgerton House. It’d been a big event involving all the family and the staff and had ultimately ended in the two getting a ‘divorce’ that evening when Colin threw a carrot at Y/N. But it’d been obvious even then how perfect they were for the other.

Y/N looked up as someone gently knocked their knife against their glass. Her heart almost stopped when she realised it was Colin and that Marina was standing next to him looking very pleased.

“May I have everyone’s attention?” Colin asked as silence fell over the gathered party.

Y/N was trying not to think the worse. She could see the confusion on Anthony’s face at what his brother was about to do but Y/N knew, deep down, what was about to happen.

“I would like to make a small but important announcement,” Colin continued, practically beaming. “I have happy news to impart.”

Y/N could hear her heart beating. She knew what was coming. There was nothing else that Colin could say that would make sense and that would make Marina smile so much. She unconsciously reached out her hand and grabbed Anthony’s arm, squeezing it tightly.

“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”

Everyone around them gasped in delight. Benedict was smiling, Lady Featherington was beaming, and Anthony looked like he was about to throttle someone.

Y/N felt as if her entire life was falling apart in front of her. She’d lost the one thing that meant everything to her to someone else. Her grip on Anthony’s arm increased and he looked over at her.

“Smile,” Anthony whispered, despite his own surprise and anger. “And go congratulate them.”

It took a moment for Y/N’s mind to realise that Anthony had even spoken. But a moment later she nodded, plastered a smile to her face and approached Colin and Marina with false joy and gratitude despite the fact her heart was breaking apart inside her.

For the rest of the week, Y/N stayed at home. Despite the invitation being extended to her to join the Featherington’s and a few of the Bridgerton’s for dinner, she declined it, unable to bear the pain of seeing Colin and Marina stare lovingly at one another.

The seventh day of hiding dawned annoyingly early and Y/N, who felt as if she hadn’t slept in months, found herself pottering around her house with no purpose in mind.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

Y/N turned around to face her butler. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Miss Eloise Bridgerton is here to see you, ma’am. She’s refusing to leave.”

Y/N sighed and pursed her lips. “Of course, she is,” she muttered. “Where is she?”

Simmons gestured to the lounge and Y/N headed down the corridor towards the room.

“Eloise, I swear -” Y/N cut herself off abruptly at the pained yet excited look on Eloise’s face as the woman ran up to her and all but crashed into her.

“The engagement is off,” Eloise said all at once, her excitement overtaking her need to speak.

Y/N blinked. “I - what is off?”

“Colin and Marina Thompson’s engagement,” Eloise said again, elaborating a little more. Y/N blinked again. “What?”

Eloise grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her into the living room, thrusting the latest Lady Whistledown into her hands.

Y/N hadn't read it in the past week - every page being focused on Colin and Marina and how happy Daphne and the duke had seemed. Every description of anything related to love added insult to injury.

She scanned it quickly and stared at the words with wide eyes. The paper fell from her hands as she looked up at Eloise.

“She... she’s pregnant?” Y/N whispered, almost not daring to say it. “What, when, how - I mean, I know how but...”

“I didn’t know how,” Eloise admittedly sheepishly.

Y/N’s head shot up, Colin and Marina forgotten. “How did you not know? You grew up with three older brothers!”

Eloise shrugged. “It just... never came up. Anyway,” she fluttered the piece of paper in font of Y/N’s face, “Colin’s free.”

“Eloise -”

“What? Y/N, there is nothing standing between you and Colin.”

Y/N sighed and slowly sat down on the sofa. “Eloise, your family’s reputation is... in a treacherous position. If I’m seen flinging myself at Colin to try and benefit from this... I’m not that sort of person. Maybe in a few weeks when its all calmed down...”

Eloise looked her friend up and down. She sat down next to her and took her hand. “Okay. I don’t agree with it but, okay.”

Over the next few days, Y/N began spending more time around the Bridgerton’s, visiting their house like she had before Colin’s proposal.

All of the Bridgerton’s, bar Colin, knew why Y/N had vanished for a few days but said nothing of her sudden re-appearance. Y/N put it down to feeling ill - she tried not to fall apart when Colin asked after her with concern in his voice and worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine now,” Y/N told him, smiling. “Just a blip.”

“Good,” Colin replied, matching her smile.

Y/N sipped on her tea, casting her eyes down as she felt her stomach flutter at the sight of his smile - even if it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you attending the Queen’s garden party tomorrow?” Y/N asked, setting her cup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

Colin nodded. “Daphne and the duke are back in town... so, yes, we’re all going to be attending. Are you...”

“Yes, I’ll be there,” Y/N replied, trying not to smile at the palpable relief that appeared on Colin’s face at her answer.

Despite everything that had happened over the past few days, Colin and Y/N’s relationship hadn’t changed. Yes, Y/N was still longing after someone she would likely never have but she’d missed her best friend too much to sulk in her own misery for much longer.

The day of the Queen’s Garden Party, Y/N joined the Bridgerton’s, walking in with the family, her arm in Colin’s.

“Isn’t this lovely?” Violet asked, smiling as she put her arm around Hyacinth. “All of us together again. And Y/N.”

Y/N laughed. “Thanks, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Yes, it’s lovely indeed. We should tempt scandal more often,” Colin muttered. He grunted lightly as Y/N elbowed him in the stomach. “Ow.”

“Hush,” Y/N replied. She was highly aware of everyone staring at them - a given considering the scandal that Marina had brought down upon the Bridgerton’s.

After a few minutes, and after the Queen had accosted Daphne and the duke, Y/N wandered off from the Bridgerton’s, mingling with the other guests and indulging herself in a glass of lemonade and a biscuit.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes at the shrill, grating voice of Cressida Cowper. She was the last person she’d wanted to see let along speak to. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and turned to face Cressida.

“Miss Cowper, how are you?” Y/N asked.

“I’m wonderful, thank you. I just wanted to know what you think you’re doing,” Cressida replied, her tone cheerful but the words sounded and felt forced.

Y/N frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Cressida.”

“Mr Bridgerton - Colin, I mean. You’ve been fawning all over him since the news about Miss Thompson broke -”

“I haven’t been fawning, I’ve been trying to be a good friend,” Y/N replied slowly, her frown deepening.

Cressida waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, but we all know that your ‘friendship’ is a disguise for your unrequited love for Mr Bridgerton.”

The empty glass in Y/N’s hand all most fell to the floor, but she kept a tight grip on it as she looked at Cressida. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s well known that you are in love with Colin and that he doesn’t know. And if he did, well, that would be your friendship over, wouldn’t! Perhaps you are even Lady Whistledown and wrote that article on Miss Thompson to have Colin all to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re implying here, Cressida -”

“Oh, I’m not implying anything, Y/N,” Cressida replied, smiling slyly. “We both know the truth about your relationship with Colin. I just can’t imagine how hurt he would be if Lady Whistledown turned out to be you. Besides, it’s not like you actually think he could possibly love you? You don’t deserve him.”

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” Colin asked, stepping into the conversation and putting a hand on the small of Y/N’s back.

Y/N turned her head away and, despite the tightness in her throat, swallowed and smiled. “Yes, Miss Cowper was just leaving,” she said firmly.

Cressida all but stamped her foot as she turned and flounced off. Colin watched her go and then turned back to Y/N, frowning in concern. He was no stranger to the stings Cressida and her mother often gave out to the Ton.

“What was that about?” Colin asked. “I didn’t really hear much -”

“Nothing,” Y/N cut in. Colin’s hand was still resting on her back and she could feel the heat of his hand seeping through the light pink silk of her dress. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just be friends and pretend her feelings didn’t exist when they did.  She took a shaky breath in, clenching her lace gloved hands tightly as they shook. “Excuse me.”

Ignoring Colin’s worried and hurt expression, Y/N stepped away from him and walked off towards the back of the gardens in search for some peace and quiet.

Y/N found a small side garden amongst the hedges and darted into it, kicking the small white picket fence gate shut behind her - forming a very pathetic barrier that Colin could probably climb over.

Cressida had always had the ability to get under her skin. Normally she would simply forget and move on with her day but everything Cressida had said - minus the Lady Whistledown accusation - was true.

She didn’t deserve Colin. That was partly why she’d been so content to let him marry Marina - because she didn’t deserve him. And why would he love her? Compared to Marina and every other women Colin had flirted at or with, she wasn’t much of anything.

“Y/N?”

Y/N closed her eyes at the sound of Colin’s voice, mentally wishing him away. She refused to turn around and face him - she could feel the emotions beginning to win over her and could feel her eyes burning.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? What did Cressida say?” Colin asked, walking up to her and putting a hand on her back where the fabric was nothing more than a sheer covering.

Y/N could feel the heat of his skin and the soft skin of his hand and suddenly wanted him to just go away and never speak to her again because it would make things so much easier.

“Nothing that wasn’t true,” Y/N said softly, a stray tear escaping her eye and dripping on to her cheek. She felt Colin still and knew he’d heard at least some of what Cressida had said. “You heard, didn’t you?” Y/N asked quietly.

Colin didn’t answer for a moment. “I... I heard the last few sentences.”

Y/N laughed humourlessly. “Of course, you did,” she said, her laugh mixing with sobs. She turned around to face her best friend with tears in her eyes.

Colin looked at her, stunned by the broken expression on her face. In the years he’d known her, the only time he’d seen her that broken had been when her mother had passed away and she’d sobbed into his arms all night. “Y/N/N...”

“No,” Y/N stepped to the side, away from Colin’s outstretched hand. “No, I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t... I can’t do this. I know - I can’t.”

Colin lunged forward and grabbed Y/N’s wrist as she turned to go, yanking her to a halt and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, wait.”

“What, Colin? So, you can make fun of the fact that I’ve been on love with my best friend since I was sixteen?”

“No, I just... I need an explanation - I need someone to explain because my head is spinning,” Colin replied. “I don’t understand.”

Y/N sniffed, looking down at the grass. “You own my heart, Colin,” she said simply. She looked up. “When I dream of my future it's with you. You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with - the one I see myself loving until I die.”

Y/N paused, swallowing down the tears that wanted to fall. She had to say this now, to get it over with and make it clear. Even though it was physically hurting her. “And I know you don’t feel the same way so, we can just leave this here. Nothing else has to be said about it. I’ll leave and we don’t have to speak of this again - or even see each other if that’s what you want.”

Colin said nothing. He was too stunned and surprised by the sudden confession and the events of the past few days to form a sentence. Y/N nodded sadly, taking his silence as her answer, and left the gardens.

She tried to hide her tear-stained face and broken heart as she emerged back into the main party. She’d arrived with the Bridgerton’s and had no way of getting home without them. Y/N spotted Anthony near the entrance and quickly made her way over to him, desperate to leave before anyone cornered her or spoke to her.

“Anthony,” Y/N said softly, nudging his arm.

Anthony turned around as the people he had been talking to walked off. It took him all of thirty seconds to take in her teary eyes, her shaking hands and the broken look on her face. “Y/N...”

“I’d like to go home, please,” she said quietly, her voice breaking on the last few words.

Anthony, to his credit, didn’t ask why. He nodded and took her arm, steering her out the garden. He caught Benedict as they passed, the two sharing a quick and quiet conversation. She caught the pitying stare Benedict gave her, the simple action making her tears free fall once again.

The carriage they had arrived in wasn’t waiting out front for them. Anthony looked around for it but saw no sign.

“I’ll be back, are you alright to stay here?”

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N replied, nodding.

Anthony squeezed her shoulder and walked off with a determined stride to find their carriage.

“Y/N!”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned around. “Colin, don’t -”

Colin skidded to a halt in front of Y/N, scattering the pebbles of the driveway with his sudden stop. He was panting, as if he’d ran from the garden to the driveway without stopping.

“Just, listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I... I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know, you don’t like me, it’s fine -”

“Will you,” Colin walked forward until he was inches away from her, “just listen?” He took her gloved hand and held it in his. “I didn’t say anything because you caught me entirely off guard. The past few days have been chaos and I need a moment to think. Because the last thing I expected was you to declare your love to me in a garden on a random Thursday. The truth is, Y/N, is that I have loved you ever since we had our wedding in the gardens of my house.”

Y/N let out a snort of laughter despite her tears. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said softly, looking up at him. “Why would you? I don’t deserve you -”

“That,” Colin said, putting a hand on Y/N’s cheek and wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb, “sounds suspiciously like the words of a Cowper. Y/N, I love you. I thought you didn’t want me!”

Y/N laughed tearfully and leant into Colin’s hand, still resting on her cheek. “We’re idiots.”

“That we are,” Colin agreed, nodding. “Y/N... the way I feel when I’m with you... there is nothing on this earth that is comparable. I’ve been waiting my entire life for you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought Marina would be the one to make me forget you but every time I looked at her... I thought of you. I thought about how much I want to kiss you -”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “And make it a good one, Colin.”

And suddenly his lips were on hers and there was a hunger and a need as he kissed her. His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her against his chest. Y/N’s hand went to the back of his head, her fingers combing through his curls. She could feel his heart pounding and could feel the warmth from his skin as his hand moved up her back.

It was years of waiting and pining and wanting the other. Y/N needed Colin like she needed to breathe, and Colin needed Y/N like he needed water to live.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away from Colin, her hand still in his hair. She rested her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Colin rested his forehead on hers. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again, staring at her. His hand was on her waist and the other one was on the back of her neck, stroking the skin gently. “I love you too.”

“So... are we organising another wedding?”

Y/N dropped her head on to Colin’s shoulder at the sound of Anthony’s voice and groaned loudly.  “Seriously, Anthony?!”

“You two kissed in the driveway,” Anthony pointed out, crossing his arms and attempting to look intimidating despite the stupid grin on his face. “Now, are we going or staying, because I’ve still yet to find our carriage.”

“We can stay,” Y/N replied, her hand entwined with Colin’s. “And when we walk back in there, we’re going to break the Ton.”

#bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagines #colin bridgerton #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #imagine

[arhvste]

OIKAWA TOORU - WALLET PHOTOS

- summary - you knew your husband was a romantic but you didn’t know he was this much of one - fluff (x f reader)

a vent one, i didn’t like my previous statement but long story short, today i found out i’m unable to have kids which has caused my parents some upset so i’ll be a little less present this week as i try and help them let it sink in, thank you <3

being the wife to a pro volleyball player had it’s ups and downs. yes, you were incredibly proud of every single one of his achievements and you were ridiculously happy that he was living his dream but, the time you spent together was limited. with him travelling and training so much and you being restricted to stay at home a little longer due to the fact you and oikawa shared a 3 year old son together, you didn't get to see as much of him as you did when you first started dating in your third year of high school.

oikawa had suggested the name ‘kosuke’ which meant ‘rising sun’ as he was adamant about giving his first son a name which somehow related to his best friend and practically brother, haijime who’s name meant ‘beginning’. of course you agreed as haijime had been with you both through many experiences while you were together, and it was him you owed for keeping your husband in check all those years.

haijime cried the first time he met your child and his name was explained to him.

“shut up shittykawa.” the man sniffled as you handed your husband’s best friend and your child’s new uncle, your son to hold for the very first time.

since your child’s birth, haijime had made sure to spend time with your family and drop by even when oikawa was out of town so he could bond with his technical nephew.

today was one of those days. oikawa was training as the hours of the day dragged on and yourself and haijime were sat on the sofa basking in the warm sun that drifted into your living room through the clear windows. your son was left to his own devices babbling and grabbing at his own feet only to tumble over and attempt to keep grabbing them.

you sighed as haijime turned to you with a small smile.

“stressed?”

you hummed and turned to the man.

“not particularly, just miss him.”

haijime let out a quick ‘ah’ and nodded as he turned to look at your son.

“i know he misses you too so don’t tell him i told you this but, he carries a few pictures of you and kosuke around and shows them off wherever he goes.”

you snorted as threw your head back slightly.

“really?”

“mhm, keeps a few candid photos in his wallet and shows them off at any chance he gets. he thrives in attention and probably feeds off of the compliments your sons pictures receive.”

you smiled. that sounded like something he would do.

you and haijime spent a few more hours catching up to which your son spent majority of the time pulled up on his uncles lap as he grabbed and giggled whenever haijime spoke and smiled down at him.

eventually the sun began to set and haijime bid a farewell to you and your son and told him to say hi to his best friend for him and let him know that he’d drop by whenever he’d next be around. you nodded and waved at the man until he was out of your sight down the pretty and peaceful street.

turning to kosuke you offered the boy a warm smile to which he happily returned.

“oh you are so a mommy’s boy!” you laughed as you carried your son to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

kosuke was sat in his highchair as he mindlessly watched whatever was catching his attention on the tv that played in the background of you cooking. his laugh and incoherent noises faded into the background as you cut vegetables and admired the view from outside your back garden.

you were so focused elsewhere, you failed to hear the sounds of the door opening and footsteps approaching. kosuke’s babbling and excitement got even louder as the sounds of your husband grew closer but you ignored them and stayed in your own little world to which oikawa immediately pulled you out of when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“t-tooru! you idiot i have a knife!” you whined as your husband laughed and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“sorry sorry i couldn't help myself, but you’re so talented i knew you wouldn't harm yourself anyway.”

you frowned as you continued to cut vegetables as oikawa stayed wrapped around you.

“you’re so beautiful y/n, how’d i end up with you?”

“relentless flirting and clinging until i said yes.”

“mean y/n!”

you snickered as you put the knife down so you could turn to face your husband properly.

he smiled as he studied your pretty features as the golden sunlight enhanced your features only making you look even more unreal to oikawa who only sighed in happiness. 

pressing a soft kiss that held nothing but warmth and pure love, oikawa cupped one side of your cheek and let his other hand lean against the kitchen counter ultimately trapping you against him.

“aren’t you going to say hi to your own son?” you mused as oikawa pulled away.

“of course i am! just gotta save the best till last right?” he teased as you playfully slapped his chest.

approaching his son, oikawa had a giddy smile to which your son returned back. his strong arms pulled kosuke from out of the high chair as he gently threw him into his arms and pulled him close to his chest.

“how’s my handsome little boy been today? been good for mommy and uncle haijime today have you?”

you smiled as you watched your two favourite boys interact. 

“very good. he missed his daddy though.” you commented as you poured the vegetables into the ramen stock.

“daddy missed you too my little prince! and - ” oikawa carried his son over to where you were standing.

“daddy missed his princess too.” he smiled as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

“save it for the bedroom.” you groaned as oikawa laughed.

he pulled away as he looked at yourself and then his son.

“hey y/n, thank you.”

you quizzically raised an eyebrow.

“for what?”

“for this. for my son. for marrying me. for everything really.”

you blushed at his upfront words and put the lid on the boiling pot before facing your two boys.

“yeah? and thank you.”

this time oikawa blinked in surprise.

“me? for what?”

“for asking me to marry you, for bringing our son into the world with me, for letting yourself be happy and doing something you love, for showing off pictures of me and kosuke for every stranger you meet, for -”

“-huh? what was that?”

“for asking me to marry you?”

oikawa whined as he tugged at the hem of your sleeved.

“y/n! who told you i show off pictures, i bet it was the old lady down the street who always walks her dogs when I'm out for my run she-”

“haijime.”

oikawa let out a dramatic gasp to which his son fell into a little fit of giggles at his fathers childish behaviour.

“i’ve been betrayed!”

you laughed as you pecked his cheek before walking past him to grab another kitchen utensil.

“i think it’s cute.”

oikawa pouted before carefully placing your son back into his highchair.

“...you wanna see them?”

he didn't even give you the chance to reply as he strode back to the hallway to dig through his bag to find his wallet before returning to you with a proud smile.

opening up, oikawa showed you the selection of photos he carried around with him all day.

“haijime only told me you carry a few! you have a whole albums worth of pictures in here tooru!”

“i do not! they’re all my favourite ones look!”

oikawa shuffled through the photos showing you the various ones he kept.

there was one of yourself and tooru at your wedding, one when you were giving birth to kosuke, one of you holding kosuke for the very first time, one of you and kosuke sat behind the birthday cake on his first birthday, one of you napping in your bed with kosuke cuddled up to you and a large array of just random shots of yourself and your son individually. 

“see, all my favourite ones.”

you took a photo off the small pile and smiled. your husband really was just a big romantic, that much hadn't changed. 

the photo fell out of your grip between your fingers and you went to pick it up off the floor. oikawa quickly said to “wait!” but you’d already seen it.

on the back of the photo, oikawa had written a small caption on the back.

“y/n pleaseeeee!” he whined as he tried to swipe it before you only to lose to you.

your eyes widened at the neat writing on the back.

‘my beautiful wife and our little star on his first time watching me play a match.’

you smiled widely as oikawa blushed in embarrassment.

“you weren't meant to see that.”

“well, i’m glad i did... do they all have little captions?”

oikawa sighed before nodding curtly handing you the small pile.

each photo had a little description of what was going on in the photo and it made your heart warm as oikawa watched you with a small look of adoration twinkling in his honey pooled eyes.

“tooru, you’re such a sap, but i really really do love you.” you laughed as oikawa mumbled in embarrassment that his wife had been exposed to an even sappier side to him.

“i like to be reminded of when and where these were taken, not that i need to but when i’m old and my memory begins to falter, i’ll have these little descriptions to help me remember the blessings you’ve given me and how lucky i am.”

if oikawa tooru wasn’t making your heart speed up before he certainly was now.

you placed the photos neatly in a pile on the counter before throwing your arms around your husband who happily pulled you into him.

“i love you so much y/n, and i love kosuke just as much. of course i want to carry these photos around all day, it’s like i have a little piece of you by my side when i can't be with you.”

you pulled your head into his chest listening to his heartbeat.

“i spoke to my coaches and well, i’ll be spending a little more time with you, that's why i was home so early today.”

“how comes?” you mumbled into the cotton of his shirt he'd changed into after a quick shower after his training.

“haijime told me you’d been missing me a little more so i spoke to the coaches and they'd noted that i’d been doing particularly well recently and granted me a more flexible schedule since we don't have any actual games coming up until two months time.”

you smiled and let out a little sigh in satisfaction.

“you didn't have to.”

“well y/n, i did. and you know why? i want to expand that little pile of photos i have and i can't do that when i’m not there to take any new ones.”

“you are such a sap!”

“your sap though.”

the two of you stood there in the dim rays of sunlight peaking through the window of your spacious kitchen listening to nothing but the sounds of the tv still going on in the background and your son’s noises of amusement watching his parents embrace right next to him.

“i’m still going to kick haijime for telling you though.”

“no you won't.”

“...no i won't.”

#oikawa torū #oikawa tooru #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #oikawa fanfic #oikawa scenarios #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fanfic

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (5/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3 : beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

-/-

Emma likes seafood.

She likes seafood, but she mostly eats like a ten-year-old boy. Apparently, there’s a little place near her house called Granny’s where she devours grilled cheese and onion rings like arteries aren’t a thing. It makes him laugh when she tells him because she eats how he’s always dreamed of eating. The only time he ever gets the chance is when he’s with his nieces and they convince him to get them food Elsa and Liam never let them get.

She also likes 80’s music, has been working at the Blue Dog for over half a decade, prefers her kickboxing classes to cycling ones, and her favorite color is blue.

That last one was a bit of a throwaway question, but he asked it anyway. Then, of course, he made sure to let her know that his eyes were blue. He got an eye roll and a ‘shut up’ for that before she started rolling her hips again. It was damn distracting, but he didn’t stop laughing at how frustrated she was that he wasted his one personal question a day on that.

One personal question a day.

It’s childish, but he thinks it works. It keeps the line between them defined. He knows what this is, has done it enough times before to not be blind to it. They’re both visitors in each other’s lives. They have expiration dates, and when there’s an expiration date, there’s no harm in spending time together.

There’s no commitment, so there’s no hurt.

He’s not an expert on Emma Swan, no matter how much she fascinates him, but he gets the feeling she’s avoiding relationships just as much as he is. There is a past hurt there, a damned painful one, and if anyone gets that, it’s him.

But he doesn’t ask about that in his one question a day. He asks for her favorite color and food and if she’d rather hike uphill for 10 miles or swim for 20.

For the record, she’d rather hike because she could sit down and eat along the way.

“Would you look at that?” Emma says as she runs her hands under the water of the sink at the bar. “You, sitting at this bar, again.”

He slices his salmon with his knife and grins. “I tried that Granny’s place, but the food had too much grease. Met a rather charming waitress, though.”

“Let me guess. Red streak in her hair, boobs on full display, argued with the owner the entire time?”

“How’d you know?”

“Because that’s Ruby, my best friend.”

“Is she now?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“Is that your personal question of the day?”

“Nope,” he says, taking a bite of his food. “I’m saving that for a later time.”

“A later time,” Emma repeats, like she’s considering the words. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the bar. “What makes you think you’re going to be seeing me at a later time? This isn’t enough for you?”

He looks around them and leans closer to her. “Too many clothes.”

Emma laughs, legitimately, and that feels surprisingly good. “I’m literally in a tank top and shorts. That’s about as dressed down as you can get.”

“I was talking about myself, actually. There are too many clothes on me, but it’s nice to know you think so highly of yourself.”

That gets him another laugh and a shake of her head, and he likes that too. He may have no real inclination to become overly attached to her, but he can at least admit to himself that he enjoys her company.

“Shut up.” Someone calls Emma’s name from across the restaurant, and she holds her arm up, putting up one finger. “I get off at The Oaks at eleven. I’ll drop by your place if I’m not too tired.”

“Why the hell are you working there so much?”

“I like the money. And, Jones, that counts as your personal question of the day. I’ll see you later...maybe.”

She grins and winks before walking away, and he swears she puts a little extra sway in her hips. Killian shakes his head as he feels his own smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What a bloody woman,” he whispers to himself before spearing another piece of his salmon.

-/-

“Right there,” she moans. “Like, seriously, right there. Don’t fucking change anything.”

Kilian smiles against her, but he’s quick to return to what he was doing. Emma’s legs tighten over his shoulders, her hands yank at the sheets, and as much as he is throbbing right now, it’s bloody glorious to have her like this. The filter is gone, so too are the reservations, and he gets a bit of satisfaction knowing this is him doing this to her.

His only skills aren’t on the football pitch after all.

He is definitely a bastard for thinking that right now, but he’s never claimed to be otherwise.

“Fuck,” Emma huffs after she comes down from her high. Her legs shiver over his shoulder, thighs tightening so all the sounds fade for a moment, but then her legs fall and all sounds come back in screaming color. “What did I do to deserve that so early in the morning?”

“It’s ten, love.”

“Yeah, that’s early on my day off.”

Killian laughs and kisses the inside of Emma’s thigh before making his way up her body, planting a final one underneath her collarbone before he collapses on his side of the bed and pulls the sheets above his waist.

“It’s not early for the rest of the world.” He smiles, which she doesn’t appreciate, and she sinks further into the bed, yanking the covers over her. He can still see her flushed cheeks and the slightest content smile on her face. “You should try it sometime. See the sunrise, dodge early morning joggers, eat breakfast at a normal time.”

“Trust me, I’m usually up early enough to want to drive into the early morning joggers while I have a Pop Tart hanging out of my mouth. My summer schedule is just...it’s different than usual.”

He has questions about that. It’s something she’s alluded to before, but he doesn’t know if she’ll count that as his question of a day.

He’s thirty-five years old, and he doesn’t know if he can ask the woman he’s sleeping with more than one question about her life. He knows he’s fucked up a lot, but this seems to be the culmination of several screw ups in his own life.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on that. Well, no, he has all the time in the world, but lately, the boredom has dissipated, the loneliness too.

Lately, he’s got a damn good distraction, and he’s not about to fuck that up.

Emma flips over on her side, her hair a wild, curly mess. She used his pool last night and didn’t wash her hair after. It’s made it even crazier than usual. He thinks he likes it. Makes her seem less reserved.

His phone rings on his bedside table, and he leans over to pick it up.

“Hello, darling.” Emma’s brow raises, but he ignores her. “How are you?”

“Good,” Elsa says. “We’re all good. The girls are in the garden right now, running around and getting all their energy out. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“I’ve been...busy.”

Emma’s hand finds his thigh, and his leg jumps before steadying. She is not about to do what he thinks she’s about to do. Bloody hell.

“Busy?” Elsa asks, as Emma’s hand walks a little closer to his groin. “Doing what? Have you made friends?”

“Why do you always ask me that like I’m a child?”

“Because you’re basically my baby brother.” Killian laughs and then hisses as Emma’s hand wraps around him. She smirks, obviously satisfied with herself, and he knows she’s doing it for the reaction above anything else.

Tease.

He doesn’t mind.

Except this is a poor idea.

“I believe I’m actually older than you.”

“Semantics.”

He laughs again, and Emma’s hand starts working a little more. Fuck. He needs her to stop, and even though she’s doing delicious things to him, she is looking away, acting as bored as can be. And maybe she is, but then he sees one corner of her mouth tick up.

“Mum, is that Killian?” he hears Ally ask, echoed by a squeal from Sophia, who is obviously having the time of her life. There’s a bit of a shuffle, some muted voices, and then his niece’s voice comes through. “When are you coming home?”

“Hello, Ally,” he says, his voice going high when Emma moves her thumb. “How is one of my favorite nieces doing?”

Emma immediately stops and yanks her hand away, practically falling off the bed. She catches herself and kicks up, moving the comforter up and nearly pulling it off him.

“What the actual fuck?” she whispers hisses, slapping him.

He ignores her as Ally asks again when he’s coming home.

“At the end of September, sweetheart,” he promises. “I’ll come home, and then I am going to kiss you right on the cheek.”

“Ew,” she complains, and he can imagine her nose scrunching.

“I also might give you a present.”

“I like that better.”

“Good. I thought you would.” he watches Emma get up and pull a t-shirt out of a drawer. It’s an old Man. United shirt, and he pretends that doesn’t do a damn thing to him, especially since she was just working him up a minute ago. “Listen, Ally, darling, will you hand the phone to your mum? I - ”

“Sophia, that is my hat! Do not wear it!”

And then the line goes dead, and he wonders how long it’ll be before Elsa gets back to her phone and calls him back.

“You let me do that to you while you were on the phone with your niece?” Emma mumbles, pulling the shirt down then pulling her hair into a mess of a knot on the top of her head. He’s not sure if she’s annoyed or amused. “I hate you.”

“Technically, at first it was my sister-in-law,” he corrects, tapping his head.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” Emma gets back in the bed, pulling the comforter all the way up to her chin, and then she shuffles a little further into the bed before sitting up against the headboard and groaning into her hands. “I am mortified.”

“I did stop you when Ally took the phone,” he points out before pulling at the arm of her shirt. “Nice shirt.”

Killian stands from the bed and walks toward his bathroom, grabbing his briefs along the way. “It’s comfortable,” Emma says. “Is this the team you played for?”

Killian stops, the tile cool against his feet, and then keeps moving, leaving the door cracked as he gets half dressed and starts brushing his teeth. As good as it was a few minutes ago, the mood is gone.

Especially now.

How the hell does she know he used to play football? And how long has she known that? Is that why...no, that couldn’t be why, but he knows that’s why a lot of women have.

“A long time ago,” he says, spitting out toothpaste. “I was with Chelsea when I retired.”

“Is that another team?”

“Uh, yeah,” he laughs, continuing to brush his teeth but sticking his head out of his bathroom door. “You didn’t know that?”

Emma shrugs as she types on her phone. “I don’t know anything about soccer. I only know you played because Ruby internet stalked you a few weeks ago and showed me your Instagram. I literally thought you were just one of those adults who is really into his hobbies.”

Killian nearly lets out a sigh, but he stops himself and turns back around to the sink to spit again before rinsing his brush. He looks up at the mirror. His hair is disheveled, there are lines around his eyes and on his forehead, and his stubble is growing to the point where a beard is beginning to form. He’ll shave later.

So Emma doesn’t know anything about football then. Or him, for that matter. He’s not sure he entirely believes her, that she didn’t look up any more about him, and he doesn’t like that uncertainty. Usually, when he meets someone, they have the upper hand and know the surface layer of all the dirty details of his life.

They usually don’t care to find out the real stories. Not that most of them redeem him in any way.

“Not a hobby,” he says, taming his hair with his hands. “It was a damn good job.” He leaves the bathroom and leans against the doorframe. “You ever play?”

She laughs and puts her phone down. “No.”

“Not even as a kid? Come on. I hear every lass in America plays as a kid.”

“Is that your question of the day?”

Damn. “No.” Killian walks toward the bed and puts his hands on either side of Emma’s head on the headboard, leaning in close. He sees her chest rise, and he smirks. “My question is to ask you to stay in bed with me all day. What do you say, Swan?”

She sits up, and her lips lightly brush against his mouth when she talks. “You should have asked me about the soccer because I was already planning on staying here the entire day.”

“Really now?”

“If we can get crepes delivered from this place that’s, like, ten minutes from here.”

Killian kisses her, long and slow until there’s heat simmering low in his belly. “As you wish.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t come over every night. Nor does he go to her place. But it seems that way as July rolls by, full of hot days that seem to linger forever. Killian finds himself busy during the days. Emma usually has work early in the mornings, so if she’s staying over, she leaves before eight. He doesn’t know how she has time to breathe working at both the Tavern and The Oaks, but she makes it work. When she leaves, he gets up and uses the gym in the basement of the house, going through his tried and true routines before he laces up his trainers and either runs on the beach or on the sidewalks through his little area of the vineyard. He finds the sidewalks are better for his knees, so he tends to stick with that and leaves walking on the beach for his afternoon phone calls with Elsa and the girls or Ariel and Eric.

It’s a routine, one that changes during the day, but for the first time since he got here, he doesn’t hate every damn day. He doesn’t spend his time actively having to try not drink or thinking about Liam or football. He practically buys out a local bookstore and goes through the novels faster than he has in years. He visits different restaurants, museums, goes along with some tourist activities he finds online, and he explores any shop that strikes his fancy.

And while his routine changes, there is one constant: he eats a meal at the Blue Dog Tavern.

At first, he thought Emma would kick him out for it, but now, she often comes and sits with him for a few minutes or sends him a drink from her office. He always sits in Ashley’s section and lets her talk about her growing belly even if he knows little about pregnancy, and he spends at least an hour eating and watching all the people around him.

It’s a hell of a lot better than the twenty-four-hour diners with sticky floors and bad coffee.

Killian shoves his keys in his pocket and pushes open the door to the Blue Dog. Marina greets him, telling him to seat himself anywhere in Ashely’s section, so he goes to his favorite booth and settles down. He can’t see the television from it, so it’s the perfect spot to completely escape from the world with no risk of his past showing up right before his eyes.

He may be feeling better, may be able to have a drink or too at night without wanting to have five more, but he knows he’s possibly only one bad day from it all coming undone, the thread unraveling faster than he can wind it back up.

“Tea or coffee today, Killian?” Ashley asks, notepad in hand.

“Tea, I think, but not the blasted stuff you gave me last time.”

She laughs and writes down his drink order. “Do you know what you want to eat already or should I come back?”

He hands her the menu. “The daily special and a side salad.”

“Perfect. I’ll be back with that as soon as possible.”

“No need to rush,” he says, smiling. “Is - ”

“She’s filling out orders for next week, but I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Ashley winks before walking away, and Killian wonders what the hell everyone in this restaurant thinks of him and Emma. It must be peculiar, but if he’s picked up anything from Emma, it’s that she likely doesn’t share much about her personal life with her employees. She surely won’t tell him that he’s the man she’s sleeping with for the summer, but they might pick up on that on their own.

The food here is good, but it’s not every day good.

He’s finished his salad and half of his sandwich when she comes out from the back. Today, she’s already in the black dress she wears to The Oaks, and her hair is pushed back into a ponytail. She looks exhausted, and unfortunately, the reason has nothing to do with him.

“I only have a second to say hi,” she says, sliding into the booth and grabbing a roll from the basket, breaking off a piece and popping it into her mouth. “We are having an issue with our fish orders, and it’s an absolute nightmare.”

“That sounds like I won’t be ordering any fish this week.”

Emma takes another bite of her bread. “I wouldn’t if I were you. Do you want to come to my place tonight? I’m off at ten.”

“Sure.” He picks at the bread on his sandwich. “Though, the last time I was at your place, that damn crab pillow ended up in the bed, and I didn’t appreciate that.”

Her nose scrunches with her laugh. “I hate that thing too, but Ariel loves it.”

“You live in that house the entire year. Why don’t you redecorate it for your taste?”

Her shoulders tense, and she stops chewing before slowly starting again. He already knows this is going to be his personal question of the day. Sometimes she forgets about it and lets the conversation flow freely, but when he hits a nerve, she’s more on her guard.

He gets it. He can be the same way.

“Personal question,” she says, and he knows her better than he should. “And I’ve redone my bedroom and little bits in the kitchen and living room, but I don’t know. I guess I keep it how the Fishers have it because it’s their home. There are memories there, and I don’t want to take any of those away for when I do eventually get another place. It’s....it’s good to have a family home with memories.”

Killian arches his brow, but Emma looks away, picking at the roll again. He never really had a family home, not after his mum died and his dad became obsessed with using Killian’s football skills for his own fortune, but he likes that sentiment.

A family home with memories. Good ones. That would be the dream.

“What about you?” she asks, changing the subject before he can press further. “Aren’t you excited to get back to your place where all the stuff is yours? You’re living in a place that’s not your own, so I’m sure you’re ready to get back to your family.”

She doesn’t mean anything by it, but her words cut. He’s here because he lost the one person in his family who he was closest to, but he doesn’t want to talk about that, not now. This is supposed to be a good time. It isn’t supposed to be about dark histories.

“I’m enjoying my time here,” he answers honestly. “There’s this woman who is an absolute spitfire, and she’s been occupying most of my time. I’ve been, well, metaphorically tied up in bed too much to think of returning home.”

“Ha, ha,” she monotones with a roll of her eyes. “That’s not what I - ”

“Hi!”

They both turn, and Emma’s friend Mary Margaret is standing there, bouncing back and forth on her toes. “Hi, Marg,” Emma says. “You’re early.”

“I know. I got finished tutoring early, so I thought I’d drop by. I didn’t know you’d have...other company.”

“Nice to see you again,” Killian says, nodding at Mary Margaret.

“Yeah, nice to see you.” Mary Margaret seems hesitant, like she didn’t meet him weeks ago at dinner, and he wonders just how much she knows about his arrangement with Emma. From what he’s learned, they seem close, but he also knows Ruby is Emma’s more...accepting friend. “How are you?”

“I’m good, love. Just badgering Emma at work. I’m surprised she hasn’t kicked me out yet.”

“Annoy me a little too much, and I will.” Her ankle hooks with his under the table, and Killian bites his lip to keep from smiling too much. “So, what’s up, Marg? Why’d you want to drop by? Have you heard of this thing called phones?”

Mary Margaret chuckles before sliding into the booth next to Emma. Emma’s ankle unhooks from his, and he tucks his feet under the booth. “So, you know how David wants to have that big barbecue for all of our friends and neighbors?”

“Yeah, you guys do it every year because you’re insane.”

“Anyway,” she says, playfully rolling her eyes, “we were wondering if we could get the Blue Dog to cater some of the sides. I know you guys don’t cater, but we could pay extra. Please.”

“You do know there are restaurants who do cater who could handle this?”

“Yes, but we love the food here. Killian gets it, right?”

“Uh, yes,” he mumbles, not sure what he’s supposed to say. From Emma’s death glare, he knows he’s chosen incorrectly. Bloody hell. “I love it.”

“Exactly,” Mary Margaret says. “We’ll pay extra. Promise. In tips so the staff can get it instead of the owners.”

Emma sighs and sinks into the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I need to know the order at least two weeks ahead of time, and it’s going to take me some time to figure out how much you guys need to pay.”

“Ahhhh, perfect!” Mary Margaret hugs Emma before sliding out of the booth. “You’re the best! I can’t wait to call David! Oh, and Killian, you should come too. It’s on August 14th. We’d love to have you there.”

Killian scratches his ear and nods, flashing her a tight smile. He doesn’t think Emma would welcome him at a party full of her friends, so he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable no matter how nice it might be to be in a large group of people.

“He’ll be there,” Emma says, surprising him, and he feels her toe tap his shin. “If he can make it, of course. You know, he has a very busy social calendar.”

“I wonder why that is, darling.” He winks, making Emma smile, and he taps his toes into hers right back. “I’ve heard you keep pretty busy as well.”

Emma’s mouth gapes before closing, and her green eyes widen, lashes nearly hitting against her brows. “Ass.”

“Well, I know you like - ”

“Okay.” Mary Margaret claps her hands together. “I’ve got to go. Emma, I’ll send you the menu after I talk to David tonight. And Killian, we really would love to have you there.”

“I’ll see,” he says as he fights to keep from smiling too widely. “May I recommend the cheddar bites for the menu. They’ll kill you, but you’ll enjoy it.”

“I have never once seen you get the cheddar bites,” Emma scoffs.

He leans over the table, pressing his chin in his hand and smirking the way he knows she likes. She tells him he’s obnoxious when he does it, but sometimes he can see past that hard shell exterior. “I’m full of surprises, darling.”

“That you are, Jones. That you are.”

-/-

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

[thiswasinevitableid]

63. sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “[person] is [attractive] enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard

Danbrey, sfw, please!

Here you go!

It’s the rabbit that draws her eye; it’s not everyday a bunny the size of a Beagle stops outside the window of Amnesty House. She follows the leash from the harness to the hand holding it, and spots a much bigger issue.

“Miss?” She steps onto the porch, “could you not take my flowers.”

“Yeeeeep!” The other woman drops the pocket knife she’s using to saw off the stems of tulips and irises, scrambling to her feet and tearing her fishnets in the process, “shit, um, I’m sorry, didn’t think you’d notice, I’ve done it before and you never, um, nevermind.” She pulls the rabbit back from the fence, “anyway, I really needed this, they’re really pretty and I think she’d like them-”

“Ohhhhh, I get it” Dani crosses her arms, “in that case, I’ll come with you. I want to see the person who’s cute enough to warrant multiple flower thefts.”

“Um, or! You could not do that and I could promise to never do this again?”

“Nope, my mind’s made up.” She slips on her Birkenstocks and heads down the front stairs. Jake and Moira are both home, so she’s not too worried about locking up.

“Fine. Let me just-” The woman scoops the rabbit up and sprints away. Dani could just let her go, but those were her heirloom irises, damn it, and she wants to make sure the person who gets them knows just how valuable they are. So off she goes, soles slapping the pavement as they head towards the lakeside.

She won’t be surprised if the recipient is hot; god knows the thief is. The freckles and red-streaked hair is just the icing on the combat-boot, denim-vested femme cake.

Growing up in this neighborhood means she never loses sight of her target, even when she’s cutting through alleys and taking sharp turns. Then the woman goes straight through a wall of junipers and Dani is not interested in getting that scratched up by plants today. This is one of the borders of the park, so all she needs to do is find the front entrance to relocate her very distinct thief.

Ten minutes of hunting later, she spots a red and black pompadour on the other side of a low, stone wall. She’s cross-legged on the grass, which the rabbit is happily munching by her side.

“Okay, seriously, does the person you’re seeing know those...are...aw fuck.”

The other woman turns from the gravestone she’s sitting by to look at her, “Yeah. This is kinda why I didn’t want you to come with me. I mean, it was a hella weird thing to do anyway, but” she sweeps her arm at the cemetery, “this is super not a date.”

“I’m so sorry.” Dani sits on the opposite side of the rabbit, “That never even occurred to me. I…” she sneaks a glance at the dates; the death was only three years ago, “I’m sorry for your loss, too.”

Silence settles between them; she feels like she should say something else, that it’d be rude to just shrug and walk away, but she has no clue what words are even appropriate here. The rabbit stretches its neck, bonking it’s nose into her hand. She pets it, smiling when it nestles closer.

“Mom really liked bulbs.” The thief says softly, “when I was little we’d always go for walks in the spring just so we could see the first ones popping out of the ground. She liked ones that were unique, so when I saw the orange and black ones in your garden all I could think was how happy they’d make her. How she woulda stopped to look at them whenever she walked past. I know it’s silly but I, um, this felt like the closest I could get to giving her that.”

The breeze carries dried iris petals from the headstone into the park beyond the wall.

“You could have just asked. There’s no way I would have said no if you told me what they were for.”

“It felt too weird. Everything feels weird these days.” She sighs, reaching out to rub dust from the stone, “I thought I was ready to come back, but it’s like the whole town is haunted.”

The fresh flowers wobble, then land on the grass. Dani grabs them and puts them back, the rabbit honking indignantly when she does.

“At least Dr. Harris Bonkers is having a nice time.” The other woman rubs the rabbit’s ears, “isn’t that right, buddy?”

“What’s he a doctor of?”

A small, beautiful smile, “Psychology. He worked hard for his PhD.”

“I bet.” She gives the doctor a final rub on the nose, “I’ll, uh, I should give you two some time alone.” Dani stands, brown eyes watching her the whole time.

“Thanks for the flowers.”

She smiles, “You’re welcome.”

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

Moira’s expecting a package, so Dani doesn’t even look up when the older woman answers the front door.

“Um, hi. I, um, I was hoping to get some flowers? The blonde who lives here said I should ask this time. I’m Aubrey? Wait, I don’t think I told her that.”

“Which blonde?”

“The cute one?”

“....I meant the boy or the girl.” Moira replies, amused, just as Dani reaches the door.

Aubrey waves, “Hi again. Could I take a few Irises?”

“Sure. Oh, wait, let me get you the pruning shears; the knife isn’t great for cuttings.”

“Dani! Could I get a hand really quick?” From the accompanying clanks, Barclay needs said hand urgently.

“Coming! Here, you can just leave them on the steps when you’re done.”

One hour and a narrowly avoided soup disaster later, she’s herding the others to the table when there’s another knock on the door.

“I, um, I stuck these in my bag without thinking.” Aubrey holds out the shears. In the porchlight, her eyes are red-rimmed and there’s a slight smear in the black lipstick on her upper lip.

“It happens. Jake, my roommate, once went a whole day with six boxes of poptarts in his bag because he got distracted while unloading groceries. Uh, if you’re not busy we’re just about to have dinner. Seems only polite to invite my biggest admirer.”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows.

“My, uh, the biggest admirer of my gardening?” Her cheeks are hot, but her flustered tone seems to relax Aubrey.

“Sure. I just have to make sure I get home in time to feed Dr. Harris Bonkers.” She grins and steps into the house.

It’s common for Amnesty residents to bring home friends (or strangers), so when Barclay spots Aubrey he simply ducks back into the kitchen for an extra set of cutlery and a bonus bowl. As always happens when Barclay cooks, everyone is too busy stuffing their faces for the first ten minutes of dinner to say much.

“So, Aubrey” Mama sips her tea, “what brings you to town?”

“I grew up here but, um, I left a few years ago to try and kickstart my career.”

“What do you do?”

Literal sparks fly from her guest’s fingertips as she wiggles them, “magic.”

“Whoah, sweet!” Jake leans forward, “do you do stunts?”

“Nah” Aubrey’s smile is brightening under the excitement, “I do sleight of hand, card tricks, that kind of thing. I like the classics. Lots of other people do too, but I hit a spell where no one was interested in booking me, so I came back here to regroup.”

“Smart thinkin’. Pretty much everyone here knows that tryin to make ends meet on the road can lead to serious trouble.”

“Or grand theft auto.” Dani smirks at Barclay.

“That was an accident!”

“Wait, what?” Aubrey laughs, the room feeling ten times brighter when she does, “how does that even happen?”

Barclay recounts the story, blushing all the while, then points out that at least he never got stuck halfway up an off-limits slope because he was daydreaming, and to which Jake responds that that’s not even in his top ten wipeouts, dude.

Aubrey hangs around, helping Dani with the dishes while they chat about childhood pets (Dani had a frog that required her to drop food on his head in order for him to notice it). When she finally re-laces her boots, her new friend is smiling constantly and Dani never wants to look at anything else.

“Hey, uh, tonight was really fun. Do you want to come by on Friday? I’m, uh, I’m cooking, so it won’t be as good as what Barclay made, but I’d love for you to try my breakfast salad. Oh, and my muffin. Muffins.”

“I’d love to. And don’t sell yourself short, flowergirl” Aubrey winks, shooting finger guns her way, “I bet your dinner is gonna rule.”

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

“What do you think? Too much?” Aubrey turns from the mirror. Dr. Harris Bonkers wiggles his nose.

“You’re right, the heels are too much. Gotta leave some plausible deniability. And be able to run away if this goes bad.” She tosses the black heels back into the closet and squeezes into the tiny bathroom to start on her make-up. It has to be perfect, or as perfect as she can get it in the mirror that’s inexplicably high up on the wall.

Yeesh, is getting ready to impress a cute girl really the thing making her consider moving back in with dad? It would be easier to find the right clothes if she had a space to hang them up in, instead of stacked boxes to dig through. But walking the streets where mom used to hold her hand, eating at the places they’d go for breakfast, all those vortexes of memories are hard enough to free herself from on their own. Sitting in the chair she used to, expecting to see her at the table or in the yard, those things would be too much.

It’s been easier since she found Amnesty. Since she found Dani. It’s hard to be stuck in the shadows of the past when there’s a beautiful ray of sunshine sitting next to you. She has dinner there most days now, practices her new routine while Dani updates the inventory for her online plant store.

Relatedly, Aubrey now has several rabbit-safe houseplants that Dani always offers to come check on. Aubrey’s actually pretty good with plants, but she’s not about to miss out on an evening sandwiched next to Dani on her futon and the ghost of jasmine perfume winding around her when she sleeps.

Amnesty is lit only by the string lights on the porch and the glow from the kitchen when Aubrey bounds up the stairs.

“Dani?”

“Oh, hey, you’re early.” Dani leans in the doorway of the kitchen and Aubrey’s brain sounds like a cartoon, nothing but “boiiings” and “wowzas” for a good ten seconds.

Dani’s hair is out of it’s usual messy bun, and instead of her overalls or patched jeans, she’s in a short, heather green tank-top dress. Getting on her knees to kiss the vine tattoos weaving up her legs would be too forward, but boy does she want to.

“Took an earlier bus just to be safe. Man, it’s so weird to be here when it’s this quiet.”

“No kidding; I can’t remember the last time I was the only one here.” Dani shoos her through the kitchen and out into the back garden. The little white table usually piled with tools is cleared of everything but a green tablecloth and two wine glasses. That’s another point in the “yes, this is a date” category. The first was that Dani was careful to emphasize that everyone would be gone for the night for camping, work, or ill-advised urban skate stunts.

“Sit your cute butt down, I’ll be right back with dinner.”

That’s the first butt-based compliment she’s gotten, so score one for this red skirt. When Dani comes back, Aubrey can’t help but bounce in her seat; her crush is carrying a board covered in fruit and bread, and she absolutely sees a fondue pot on the counter inside.

“Since Cheesy Heat closed, I thought I could recreate it for us. Kinda. Barclay said he thinks they used a super fancy cheese that’s hard to get here.”

“That’s probably why they went out of business. Dang, why so many fondue pots?”

“Barclay keeps getting them for Christmas.” She sets the chocolate one down next to the cheese, and when she tugs on her dress before sitting down Aubrey’s mouth waters from more than just the meal.

The stars come out as they take turns making a mess of the table cloth, but the longer she sits here, happier than she’s been in years, the more Aubrey knows she can’t put the question off.

“Why the fancy dinner tonight?”

Dani dabs her mouth with her napkin, “I, uh, I, Cheesy Heat was my go-to, uh” her voice drops to a whisper, “date place.”

“Ohthankgod.” Aubrey flops back in her chair, “this is a date.”

“Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t wanna, like, assume.”

“Fireblossom” Dani stands, making a little half circle to reach her, “the first time we met you were stealing from me assuming I wouldn’t notice.”

“To be fair, getting caught in petty theft is less terrifying than making an ass out of yourself in front of a hot girl.” She grins as Dani straddles her lap.

“...okay you’re right, I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of you. Again.”

“A girl who can run me down in sandals is pretty hot.”

“Pfft” Dani giggles, hides her face in Aubrey’s shoulder, “not as hot as a girl who can sprint while carrying a twelve pound rabbit.”

“Seventeen.” Aubrey kisses her cheek, whispers teasingly, “you shoulda told me this was a date, I could’ve brought flowers.”

“You can bring me some next time.” Dani sits up, smiling at her.

“Sweet, I know somewhere I can get them for free.” She bounces her eyebrows, making the vision of perfection in her lap laugh.

“Nope, this time it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Dani cups her cheeks and dives down for a kiss, Aubrey clinging to her dress and sighing as she slips her tongue between her lips.

“Few of those” Dani murmurs, brushing their noses together.

“I’m happy to pay them.”

#meet ugly #danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes: haha I did a semi short chapter... sorry... also this is chapter 4 of my space AU..

ALSO READ THE DAMN WARNINGS. Thank you ☺️

——————

Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Warning: Mentions of abuse (physical verbal and sexual) there aren’t any graphic recalls it is simply mentions. Mentions of being beaten up. Mentions of knives and blood. Threatening characters, and character pain. Again characters being trapped and not going home. Cussing. Characters passing out. Characters being distressed characters being malnourished. Yea I kinda was in an angsty mode sooo.... here you go..

——————

Ao3 link:

——————

“Humans are [Add text here]”

Chapter 4: I guess it qualifies as an introduction?

Phil wasn’t expecting to wake up at 4 in the morning to the sound of laughter.

It wouldn’t be the first time, definitely not the last.

Curiously the avian poked his head into his kids’ room. The laughter wasn’t coming from the gardener, guard, or scientist. The laughter was coming from the assistant who wasn’t in their room. Phil turned his attention down the hall. Sure enough the laughter was louder. Quietly he made his way to the holding cell. Phil sat in a smaller hallway and decided to listen into the conversation… What can he say? He always eavesdropped..

“What even is a you-tube?” The assistant asked through small giggles. To that the human gasped as if he was hurt by the statement.

“You don’t have YouTube?! Or like an alien version of it?!” The human replied, not even trying to hide his shock.

“Erm no?”

“Well it’s like this thing that humans use to make really cool videos and stuff.”

“What’s a video?” Ranboo interrupted.

“They’re kinda like moving photos that usually work as a sort of entertainment or info dump. I could probably tell you thousands of the times my stupid teacher made me watch ‘educational’ videos..”

“So they’re kinda like illusions?”

“Yea but you don’t see 'em in 3D. As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted..” The enderian let out a small squeak of embarrassment at that, “YouTube is like a thing people use to post videos on. I am totally making an alien version of YouTube when I get out.” The air stiffened at that.

“Tommy.. you probably won’t get out for a while…” Ranboo said, Phil heard one of them shift and the entire atmosphere lost it’s warmth, “It’s not like you won’t get out! It’s just hard… especially when no one really trusts you yet.” Ranboo swallowed, as he usually does when he is uncomfortable, “Even when we let you out of the holding cell.. you probably won’t be allowed off the ship. It’s too dangerous for all of us..” the two fell into a deafening silence. Phil shivered at the tension, making sure to be silent while doing so.

“I assumed as much…” the human started, being the first to break the silence, “I-I… I guess I won’t be going home either… since the ISF absolutely hates us.. plus like you said, only already crazy humans are sent back..” the human sighed sadly.. For the first time Phil felt sympathetic towards a human. With that he decided it was time to start on breakfast.

——————

Three things happened after Tubbo woke up.

One, Ranboo passed out at the table. Phil simply shook his head and picked up the enderian with some unknown strength to the rest of the crew.

Two, a scream was heard from the other side of the ship, causing Wilbur to frantically run to the holding cell.

Three, Techno put his milk in before he poured his tea… I mean who does that?

Ignoring the last strange thing, Tubbo went to check on Ranboo. He was fine, so Phil said. “He only needs rest. Leave them be.” Was what Tubbo got as he peered into the enderian’s room. Shrugging off the weird behavior Tubbo made his way to the garden.

Before he made his way to the garden he noticed the human wasn’t in the holding cell. That meant he was probably in the lab… Which meant Tubbo would have to meet him.. Oh prime no. That’s not gonna happen.

He started sprinting to the garden. It was just passed the lab if only he took another step-

“Tubbo, I need your help.” Wilbur said from behind him. The droneling turned around reluctantly. Holding his breath he made his way into the medical part of the lab.

[gore and distressed characters, skim if you need to]

There, laying on the bed, was a human. He held back a scream which came out as a labored gasp. Sweat was bubbling on his forehead. With that he turned to Wilbur who examined the human from a distance.

“Go get some bandages and the stitching kit.” Wilbur commanded. Without hesitation Tubbo ran to grab the items. Wilbur took both objects and disinfected a bad cut on the human’s arm. He hadn’t even realized there was a cut until Wilbur cleared off the strange red blood. Wilbur then proceeds to stitch the wound and bandage the irritated wound.

That’s when Tubbo noticed the amount of blood the human lost. Most species wouldn’t be able to handle that much blood loss, but here was the beast of the galaxy, completely fine in a matter of minutes after losing quite a bit of blood.

[End]

When Wilbur was satisfied, he picked the human up and carried him back to the holding cell. Tubbo was unable to stop himself from following. Before thinking the droneling sat at the table and watched as Wilbur finished cleaning the human.

“Er.. do you want me to grab Techno so you can stay in here?” Wilbur asked, noticing Tubbo sitting in the corner.

Without saying a word Tubbo gave a small nod. Wil didn’t push like he usually did and left to get Techno.

Tubbo got up and approached the sleeping human. He was skinnier than what Tubbo thought humans should be. There were odd dark circles under his eyes and his hair clearly hadn’t had a good wash for what looked like months. He had injuries over his body and was practically shaking in his sleep.

Since Tubbo was preoccupied, he barely noticed Techno enter, or the door closing. Let alone the clangs and thuds from other crew mates.

He was preoccupied by the strange human who was sleeping in front of him.

The human stirred and the droneling stumbled away.

After a few seconds the human sat up and looked at the now fallen droneling.

“What the fuck?”

——————

Tommy didn’t expect another alien to push their luck in his space. But here he was.

The alien was smaller than Tommy by a lot. Further proving Tommy was the biggest man. Unlike the other aliens this one wasn’t threatening upon first glance.

The one from last night had been way more intimidating at first. Being way taller than Tommy and having weird lanky limbs and magical purple glowing orbs surrounding them. They had horns and a half and half complexion. One half of the alien being white with grey and purple freckles along with a red eye. The other half being a purplish black with grey and green freckles along with a green eye. They wore a suit with a red tie and dress shoes. He also had two tails of the same colors as his complexion. All of this being forgotten after they stammered through their introduction. It was honestly hilarious.

This alien was very different from the others. They had brown messy hair, encasing black antennas and small black bumps that resembled horns. Their skin was a honey peach color and practically glistened. There were strange hexagon patterns over their face along with three black stripes on either side of their face. They had bee wings, which was the only thing Tommy could relate to the alien too. There was also a black fuzzy tail, similar to a stinger, poking out of their pants. Their hands were lanky and pointed, completely black. There was also soft yellow fuzz poking out of their sleeves and holes in their pants. They wore ripped jeans along with a long sleeved green button down shirt. Their eyes were another thing entirely, being a honey brown in certain light but could also shift to a greenish blue in other light. They had fly-like pupils.

After a minute of them sitting in an awkward stance the alien got up. Using their wings to properly position them in a standing position. They brushed themselves off and approached Tommy.

“You lay a finger on anyone here and I will kill you. Understand?” The alien said, any intimidation that was lost from the alien falling was regained in an instant. The alien poked him in the chest with one of the lanky fingers, which started burning like acid after a minute.

Since Tommy was too, sacred, poggers to move he simply nodded, which is absolutely the best response to the situation. Sadly the alien didn’t get the gesture and dug their nail into his chest even more. Seriously, it was starting to really burn.

“Y-yes.” Was all Tommy could muster. The alien was satisfied with the answer and let go of Tommy. They walked out of the now open door. Shortly after Techno followed the door closing behind him. Tommy never realized the other alien was in the room.

[Mentions of abuse]

For a split second the interaction reminded him of his dad.

The way his dad did the same thing to his mom when she didn’t listen.

Or when his sister didn’t follow his dad’s friend.

Or when Tommy made a mistake.

Except instead of a nail, it was glass, or a punch, or sometimes a knife…

[End]

He shook off the thoughts and reminded himself that the aliens weren’t his father, nor were they going to do that to him.

They wouldn’t do that right?.. Right?

Tommy slapped his face, only to find there were silent tears flowing down his cheeks. He quickly wiped his cheeks and continued his train of thought.

Tommy trusted too easily. That in the end is how at nine he ended up getting beat up in his first foster home. He condemned himself for trusting the aliens. They were strangers. He knew nothing of them and they knew more about him. This was the moment in which Tommy shut himself off. Where he regained the ability to leave his blind trusting instincts.

——————

Chapter 4- End

Words: 1633

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Notes: I didn’t know what to add next so I decided to leave you here. Your welcome! <3

Again hope you enjoyed! Now go eat food, drink water, take a shower if you haven’t, and go to sleep. Stay safe, love ya! <3

——————

Tubbo: *falls out of fear

Tommy: ._. This dude ain’t intimidating

Tubbo: *threatens Tommy

Tommy: ,:^ never mind then...

——————

Reminder likes are appreciated but reblogs are better!!

——————

#tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #my fanfic tag #my writing #wilbur soot #tubbo #ranboo #technoblade #philza #angst #reblog #;-; #space au

[little-boats-on-a-lake]

Part Fifteen (Part One)

Tw: mention of past self harming and urge to self harm

He had to wake up.

It was just a nightmare.

It was okay.

It would all be over soon.

Just wake up.

Wake up!

Wake up!

He sat up with a jolt, trembling. Ugh. Not that nightmare again. He hadn’t seen it in so long. He would have loved to never see it again. He glanced behind him, but Sunny was still fast asleep, even if her hand was still firmly gripped on his shirt. He sighed as he pried her fingers off. Did she think he was going to run away and one morning, just not be there? Who knew. He certainly wasn’t going to ask.

Stretching out his arms, he climbed out of bed. It was just too warm. Mére! Fire! Not that there was a problem with being warm. Run, get as far away as you can! He really just didn’t need that right now.

Oh gods, he needed to get rid of that horrible screeching sound in his head. He clapped his hands over his ears and stumbled around, gentle blue flames licking at his ears to light up his surroundings.

This is a stupid idea. A very stupid idea. He was practically screaming at himself. Stay near Sunny. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid. Don’t be- the glint of the knife on the table caught his eye and his breath.

He was in the kitchen. Again. Not surprising, considering how much time he spent in here.

It almost seemed to call to him. He could almost feel the sharp rasp of the blade just by looking at it. He couldn’t even pry his eyes away from it.

Like that princess in the story with her spinning wheel, the pointed edge called him by name (if he even had one anymore) and begged, no, pleaded to be held taut against his skin until red lines welled up again and spilled out in every direction fathomable.

Sometimes, he was surprised his blood was red. It was such a vibrant and beautiful hue. It was strange to think that anything coming from him could be beautiful. He expected his own life force to be pitch dark and cloudy, like he honestly expected himself to be.

He hadn’t moved one inch since stepping foot into the kitchen.

No. Please don’t do this again. You want to live. Please, you have to live! He ignored the voice in his head like always. It never helped him, anyway. Please, for her. Don’t do it. For her.

His shaking hand stopped as it reached out to the table.

Sunny.

Goddess above, what would she think of this? She would run away screaming if he somehow succeeded this time. He couldn’t do that to her. What kind of a monster was he? Hurting her physically wasn’t enough? He had to mentally scar her even more?

A broken sob fell from his mouth as his knees hit the ground. And another. And another. He pressed a hand against his lips to stifle his incessant sniveling, but it only became worse. His entire body, wracked with unheard sobs, shuddered.

What was he about to do?

You were doing so well. His inner voice chided him. You’ve got responsibilities now. You have someone depending on you now. And you were about to let her down like this?

He really was a monster.

The cold chill raced in the grass and brushed against his legs. The garden was really beautiful this late at night. The glow of the moon seemed to make the whole cliffside ethereal. Sitting in the middle of a field of grass didn’t seem quite ethereal to match that, but it was still serene and quiet.

Gods, he hated the quiet.

He mentioned the gods more today than he had in the whole month. It was strange, considering his relationship with religion. He certainly didn’t do anything to acknowledge their existence. They were more his mother’s gods, not his own. They never wanted to help him. If anything, they seemed determined to hurt him even more. Religion was pointless.

Mére would be disappointed in him. She thanked the Goddess Above every morning when she awoke and every night before she slept. What for, he had asked her so many times. Papa was still not home yet and she was always waiting for him. “Thank the goddess for keeping us alive!” She would say. "For the little blessings and happinesses she gives us!” and then she would held his face in her hands and kiss his forehead softly. "And for you, moonbeam. She blessed me with such a beautiful gift as you."

Gift? Hah. More like a curse.

“I wish you were here, Mére. I miss you everyday." He stared up at the stars, lying back on the soft grass.

His books would say all these things about how the dead lived on as stars and their bodies would all turn into stardust when the time had come. Whether it was true or not, it was still a nice way to remind himself of his mother. He had cried himself to sleep once he realized he no longer remembered then broke his promise to no longer hurt himself a month later when he couldn't remember the color of her eyes.

"I wish you knew how to help Sunny. I try, Mére. But sometimes, I just don't know how to help her. You would love her, she’s so... She's just amazing. She deserves better than I can give her. But I don't know what else to do. I don't know who else would help her. And I... I hurt her.”

He paused, as if he was expecting the skies to open up and his mother would give him advice about girls.

Like all the times before, she stayed silent.

''Maybe the best thing for her is to leave the island. Just because I can't doesn't mean she won't be able to." He let out a deep sigh. “But I can't rely on that. I guess I just have to stick around for her."

If he listened hard enough, maybe one of these days, he would hear his mother and she would tell him how to make things better again. For now, he would have to be satisfied with the soft chirping bugs and the sound of the gentle winds carressing the world around him.

“Thanks, Mére. Nice talk.” He murmured, determined to make his way back to the warm safety of home.

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#writing #original writing #writeblr #tw #tw self harm #self harm thoughts #no negative thoughts anymore #only dumbass girlfriend

[luxuriq]

Cold | Alpha!Hanzo & Alpha!Genji

> NS/FW warning < | > NON-CON WARNING <

Part 2 [coming soon]

Summary: On a cold night, an Omega takes shelter in a garden shed of a mighty estate. Little does she know that the owners are still awake.

Words: 5,123

A/N: Why is it that some of my fav kinks have to be popular in a fanfic trope that I generally dislike. (ノωヽ) Anyways, this is my first attempt at writing abo, let me know how I did. c:

❀ — ❀  — ❀

The sky was heavy with clouds, the moon and the stars hidden, making the night appear much darker. The sound of rain falling and the rustling of leaves blocked out any other noises. Her breath fogged – it was unusually cold for late spring.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she ran down the empty street, hugging the wall fence like a shadow. She tried to suppress the shudders, but her clothes were almost entirely soaked through and the chill of the night was becoming really sharp. Moreover, the rain was getting stronger. She had to find shelter soon or risk hypothermia.

A batch of trees materialized out of the darkness ahead of her. Their branches reached over the wall fence, entwining with branches of the trees on the other side of the wall. That sparked an idea in her head. She’d been following this fence for a while now and she knew that the main compound building of this estate was all the way on the other side. Meaning this area here had to be a backyard. Hopefully, the owners were keen on gardening and had some kind of a shed back there.

She adjusted her backpack straps a little and swung onto one of the lower branches. The wood was slippery and her fingers almost numb from the cold so it was slow going, but she eventually managed to reach the height of the wall and peek over it. She strained her eyes to see through the dark of the deserted garden and— there! Luck was on her side. There was indeed a shed at the end of a gravel path coming from the direction of a huge mansion that was a pretty safe distance away.

She was well aware of the fact that this was risky. But her body was aching from the cold and there was a very slim chance of some rich and pretentious owner of this mansion deciding to garden at such a late hour on a rainy night. And the low trees with easy to reach branches on the estate’s side of the fence would provide a great escape route should anything go wrong.

She climbed down the branch, over the wide wall fence and dropped down into the garden. She silently landed in a crouch and sneaked through the neatly cut bushes and small trees towards the shed, ignoring the lingering feeling of dread. Her life was risky enough just because of the way she was born – there was really no need of increasing that risk by taking shelter in a garden that most certainly belonged to a powerful Alpha. And yet here she was, freezing cold and in desperate need to get dry.

After she slipped through the door, finally protected from the wind and downpour that just began, she only felt relief. Therefore, she needed a moment to process what she was seeing. There were some gardening tools in one corner, but most of the shed was filled with archery targets, bows, arrows and wooden swords.

A new wave of anxiety flooded her, but she tried to reason with it. Kyudo and kenjutsu were quite popular, especially among more traditionally oriented people. Maybe their hobby wasn’t gardening, but archery and sword-fighting – it didn’t really matter. All of these things are better performed during the day and when it’s  not raining, so no reason for anyone to come in here during the night. And tomorrow, she will be gone before sunrise.

She picked the far corner where she was hidden behind some archery targets that conveniently obstructed the view. Taking off her wet coat, she hung it to the back of one of the targets, where it could hopefully dry until tomorrow. The hoodie underneath was mostly dry, as well as a small blanket in her waterproof backpack. Her jeans were a different matter, cold wet stains uncomfortable against her skin, but she decided against taking them off. It felt too much like exposing herself.

She dug into her backpack again, pulling out a small bottle and a bar of chocolate. She took a sip of her home-made concoction, completely unaffected by the taste that once made her gag and the burning sensation down her throat. She was just glad it worked as well as it did – her nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing heats were a thing of the past, which meant she was in control of her body at all times, and although some Alpha might still sniff her out … well, she never stayed in one place long enough for that to happen. She wasn’t exactly sure about all of the side-effects of her home-made suppressants, but the recipe she based it on might have warned about bad things happening to one’s reproduction organs if used without break. Maybe that was the reason she used it so excessively. She refused to let whatever twisted fate that made her what she was define her life even more. Like being completely out of control once a month wasn’t enough, she would not have any Alpha – or anyone else for that matter – control her for the rest of the time when she was sane enough. She refused to be someone’s private pup factory.

And so she took one more little sip, silently cheering to possible infertility, and then stuffed her mouth full of chocolate. Pulling the blanket over her, she curled into a ball, adjusting her position on the floor in an attempt to find the most comfortable one.

She barely managed to close her eyes when she heard the sound that immediately flung her into a state of panic.

Footsteps. Getting closer.

As quickly as she could, she freed herself from the blanket cocoon and tugged on her dark coat. She pressed herself against one of the targets, fishing a knife out of the inner pocket of her coat. She didn’t have to wait long for the door of the shed to slid open.

“Man, what a downpour!”

It was a man’s voice. She gripped her knife tighter.

She couldn’t see what he was doing, but there was a sound of wood clattering (maybe the practice swords colliding?) while he was humming a catchy tune. She stayed behind her cover completely still, although everything in her head was screaming to either fight or run. Her knuckles were turning white from the tight grip she had on the handle of her knife and she prayed to whatever deity that might be listening for the man to go away.

Then the humming stopped. She held her breath. There was no sound of the door closing. What was he doing? Her eyes frantically searched for an escape route.

The footsteps – slower this time – heading towards the back of the shed.

Her body was tense as a bowstring, ready to leap at whatever came around the line of targets. Briefly, she realized that her hands were shaking.

A man appeared before her, his short green hair drenched in rain or sweat she couldn’t tell. She didn’t pay much attention to his appearance because as soon as the stench of an Alpha filled her nose, she flung herself at him like a feral cat. Her knife connected, cutting down his forearm, and he let out a surprised yelp. Almost at the same time, his other hand reached after her and she stabbed her knife in the direction it was coming from. He pulled away just in time to avoid the blade, taking a step back and crashing into some gardening tools.

With his hands finally at his sides, she leapt away from him, but in a different direction than the one she charged from – towards the door, towards freedom.

“Don’t try to follow me,” she snarled, her knife still pointed at the man as she retreated towards the door.

The green-haired Alpha was just staring at her like he couldn’t quite process what was happening.

She took another step back, already feeling the breeze coming through the open door. Almost there. A smile was threatening to surface and she had to bite her lip to keep it under control. Her wide eyes were reflecting a mix of panic, terror and a manic feeling of being victorious, which made for quite a terrifying sight.

And then her back bumped into something hard, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her heart sank. She was almost too afraid to turn around and face the new threat.

“What is the cause of this commotion?” came a deep voice from behind her.

The decision was made in a split second. She swiftly spun around and stabbed at whoever was standing behind her. A hand caught her wrist and held it in an iron grip, forcing her to drop her weapon. She slowly looked up into a pair of cold, dark eyes.

She wanted to scream in despair, but she was completely frozen by his watchful gaze. His Alpha scent was both haunting and intoxicating, and she resented her body for betraying her so easily.

“An intruder,” the newcomer said in an icy tone. “You will be punished for trespassing.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose and blinked. He leaned a little closer and sniffed the air again.

“What is it, brother?” the other one asked, taking a step closer and sniffing the air as well.

His eyes suddenly turned predatory, “Oh. Is that ...”

“Luck favours us, Genji. We must go and tell Father to cease the negotiations immediately. A stray Omega just waltzed right into our home. For free.” The dark-haired Alpha in front of her was watching her intently.

“Wait, you mean we can’t have her right now?” the green-hair – Genji – asked, staring at his brother in disbelief. “It’s been so long since we last touched an Omega! C’mon, Hanzo! You know Father doesn’t like to be disturbed during the night. We can tell him tomorrow and in the meantime, get acquainted with our new little Omega here.”

Hanzo thought for a second, then nodded. “We have to make sure she is worthy of carrying an heir to the Shimada clan.”

They were talking about her like she wasn’t even there, like she was just some object free for them to take. That’s what pissed her off about Alphas the most. And before she could think it all through, she punched Hanzo in the face.

He moved just enough for her to miss his nose, her fist connecting with his cheekbone instead. The grip on her wrist loosened up a little and she tried to yank it free.

It didn’t work, however. He gripped her even tighter with both hands, fury flashing in his eyes.

“How dare you,” he growled.

“Let go of me,” she demanded, but her shaky voice betrayed her.

“Omegas were made to be claimed by the Alphas. It’s in your nature,” Hanzo was saying through his gritted teeth as he hoisted her up and threw her over his shoulder.

She kicked her feet and banged at his muscular back with her fists, “In my nature my ass!”

“We are doing you a favour. You have gone completely feral without a proper Alpha to take care of you. Once we knot you, you will calm down,” Hanzo continued and started walking away from the shed.

“Let me go!” she screamed again and again, but the dark-haired Alpha was deaf to her pleas.

“Well, at least she’s got spirit. I think she will be perfect for us,” Genji commented in a light conversational tone as he trailed behind his brother and the Omega. “This late-night training session really paid off, isn’t that right, Hanzo?”

~

She didn’t see much of her surroundings as the Alphas navigated through the estate, her vision blurred by the tears of despair. A sound of doors sliding open and then she was falling. A rather comfortable futon eased her landing and she quickly scrambled onto all fours and looked around.

They brought her into a smaller tatami room, traditionally decorated and mostly empty. The sheets smelled faintly of flowers – more importantly, they didn’t smell like any of the Alphas, which meant that this was probably a guest bedroom or something similar. And there was only one escape route: through the door blocked by both of the Alphas.

She didn’t want to just sit on the futon and be an easy target, but she also didn’t want to back away. Where to? Being caught in a corner seemed even less appealing.

Before she could really commit to anything, Hanzo was crouching beside her, tugging her coat off her. She pulled her arms closer to her body, glaring at him in defiance.

“Cooperate or I will cut the clothes off your body,” the dark-haired Alpha growled.

She felt that Alpha growl all the way down in the pit of her stomach, her Omega instincts slowly awakening. At that moment, she hated herself, her body for responding to what she did not want and the twisted fate that made her this pathetic, submissive creature. Finding a nice Alpha mate who would take care of their Omega? That was just some fairytale bullshit. All Alphas were assholes, thinking they owned every Omega they came across. There were no happy endings for the ones like her in this world.

Her body was screaming to submit to the Alpha in front of her and yet she continued to scowl at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

Suddenly, Genji appeared on the other side of her, crouching down and caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. She jerked away from him, surprised by the gentle gesture.

Hanzo took advantage of the distraction and grabbed the hem of her hoodie, pulling it up. She quickly put her hands down, keeping them pressed to her body and refusing to let him lift the fabric. But then Genji grabbed her wrists and with combined strengths, they unceremoniously stripped her of her clothes.

She shivered as the cold air enveloped her bare skin, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. As she moved, the feeling of slickness between her legs became more apparent and it was mortifying. Wide-eyed, she stared at the Alphas, waiting for them to pounce. Hanzo was watching her with a focus of a predator, despite in the middle of taking off his clothes. Genji was also maintaining eye-contact with her as he brought something to his nose, inhaling deeply. She recognized the bunched-up fabric as her underwear and she grimaced.

“Your scent is delicious, Omega,” he purred as he dropped the fabric and began stripping his clothes as well.

Hanzo was way ahead of him – already naked and advancing on her. Her gaze involuntarily trailed down his muscular body and to the hand stroking his almost fully erect Alpha cock. This was the first time she was seeing one in person and it made her both terrified and wanting. Even in this state, it was already bigger than any of the silicone replacements she had been using to ease her heats.

“Brother, wait,” Genji said, placing his hand onto Hanzo’s shoulder.

For some reason, a little spark of hope that he will stop this horrible thing and let her go appeared in her head.

“I found the Omega,” he continued in a rather neutral voice. “It is only fair that I get to breed her first.”

“And I caught the Omega,” Hanzo growled at him. “If it were only you, she would have gotten away.”

Dismissing him, the dark-haired Alpha turned to face her again.

“Open your legs, little Omega. I can smell your arousal,” he growled, but it was a different kind of a sound, one that made her core throb.

She tightened her grip around her legs, glaring at him with silent hatred.

His face darkened. With no warning whatsoever, he grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs towards him, making her fall onto her back. As an immediate response, she started kicking and flailing her arms.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, trying to aim her kicks at his face but with little success.

Hanzo held her ankles in a painfully strong grip, no signs of it letting up. The hopelessness of the situation was demoralising, but she didn’t stop squirming in his grip. He lifted his hands, pulling her legs up and in turn bringing her body closer. She twisted around as best as she could and gripped the futon in the final attempt to escape.

Another pair of hands gripped her wrists, forcing her to let go and flipped her back around. She knew it was Genji who now had her hands pinned down to the ground above her head, could see the flash of his green hair as he moved into a better position, towering above her.

“Hush, little Omega,” the younger Alpha purred. “We’ll make you feel real good, I promise.”

She looked at Hanzo with tears in her eyes. There was no way she could escape them.

“Please,” she sobbed, finally going limp in their hands.

Begging was her last resort – not that she had any hopes for it.

Silently, Hanzo gripped her ankles in one hand, using the other to guide his hefty cock to her weeping cunt.

“Please, I don’t want this,” she whispered, the image of the Alpha in front of her blurred due to her tears.

“Your body is telling me otherwise,” Hanzo said in a low voice. “Begging me to fill you, to breed you, give you the knot it so desperately wants.”

The head of his cock pressed against her slick folds. Her whole body tensed up in both anticipation and fear. She closed her eyes, the thought of watching him do this to her unbearable. She wanted it to hurt, she wanted her body to hate it. But when Hanzo’s girth finally entered her tight channel – the penetration practically effortless due to how wet she was, it was anything but painful.

The way his cock filled her up, reaching deep and stretching her walls so perfectly, was better than anything she’d ever used during her past heats. Another wave of pleasure raked through her body as Hanzo thrust into her again, her body reacting in a completely opposite way than her mind. She tried to hold on to that little bit of sanity she had left, tried to convince her body that this was not what she wanted; and yet, her pussy clenched down on the Alpha’s cock like her life depended on it, her back arching as every snap of his hips sent a sweet sensation through her body.

“No,” she whimpered quietly.

Hanzo changed his grip again, holding her by the back of her knees and keeping her legs slightly spread apart up in the air. This position gave him more access and he immediately set a punishing pace. His cock suddenly felt thicker and more filling, especially around the base, teasing her tight entrance even more intensely … With horror, she realized that his knot was already forming and she was fairly certain Hanzo wouldn’t be pulling out.

As an automatic reaction accompanying her urge to get away, she started wriggling in his grip again, which resulted in a situation quite the opposite of what she wanted. The Omega responding seemed to motivate Hanzo even further and he started pounding into her even more ferociously. She could only cry out and she wasn’t even sure if it was in protest or pleasure.

She barely even noticed Genji adjusting his hold on her wrists, now doing it with only one hand.

With his free hand, he gently petted her head and murmured soothingly, “You’re taking him so well, Omega. You’ll be perfect for us.”

She jerked away from him, startled by the tenderness of his touch.

“If you promise you will not kick, I will touch you. You would like that, wouldn’t you, Omega? Me playing with your clit while I breed you and make you come,” Hanzo purred, seemingly unaffected by how fast he was thrusting into her.

Her body screamed for some attention on that part of her body; wanted it, craved the high it will bring.

Mustering up all of her resolve and courage, she spat in his face, “I don’t want you to touch me. Anywhere. At all.”

She had thought he would be pissed, had mentally prepared for it and was willing to accept the consequences. However, the dark-haired Alpha only chuckled darkly, his thrusts suddenly slowing down to powerful snaps of his hips all the way in and all the way out. His knot had grown and was now harshly pushing and tugging at her cunt every time he moved, sending little jolts of pleasure through her body.

“Oh, I will enjoy breaking you into submission, my feisty little Omega.”

Hanzo leaned down and pressed his nose against her neck, humming appreciatively. His beard felt all prickly against her sweaty skin and she grimaced. He inhaled her scent again and licked her neck.

She wanted to scream in frustration, but the breathy sound that left her mouth was something entirely different. Hanzo ripped his half-formed knot out of her and she sobbed in a mix of pain and pleasure. Against all odds, she hoped it wouldn’t fit back in, but she had a hunch Hanzo will make it fit. He rammed back into her, knot and all, the tip of his cock hitting her cervix and making her yelp.

Suddenly, Hanzo yanked her up and flipped her onto her stomach, his cock staying buried deep inside of her. She tried to crawl away, but his firm chest pressed against her back, squishing her against the futon. His hips were moving in a slow rock. Her eyes widened in panic as his knot swelled to its final size, stretching her cunt to its limits. She choked out a quiet moan.

The feeling of being this full, this stretched out couldn’t compare to anything she had ever felt before. And beyond all the pleasure, the fear, the throbbing of her tight walls, there was a sense of completion, a sense of accomplishing something she was supposed to do. It was a dreadful feeling.

Hanzo’s loud moan pulled her out of her thoughts and in the next moment, there was an explosion of warmth in her belly as he painted her walls with his thick Alpha cum. A shudder ran down her spine, a more primal side finally taking over and relishing the feeling of this powerful Alpha breeding her so well. She arched her back, her cunt squeezing down on his knot, wanting more.

Hanzo let out a quiet grunt and rolled to his side, pulling her with him. Pushing his legs in-between hers, he kept them spread open while his hand dived straight for her core.

“Milk my knot. Beg me to give you more,” he growled.

When the rough pads of his fingers finally made contact with her sensitive nub, her body ignited in pleasure. It was due to both: Hanzo expertly playing with her clit and that delicious, hefty knot stretching her walls to oblivion. She barely even noticed Genji lying down next to them. He lazily tugged at his pre-come-dripping dick, watching his brother force an orgasm out of the Omega with interest.

It didn’t take long before she was writhing in his arms as waves of pleasure hit her like a storm – suddenly and strong. Too strong. Her pussy clamped down on Hanzo’s cock, making him groan and buck his hips as he released the final drops of his seed into her womb.  She mewled quietly at this peculiar feeling of fullness in her belly, something she has never experienced before.

As the high calmed down, she sagged against the Alpha’s body and closed her eyes. Hanzo silently rearranged her limbs so that she was lying in a fetal position with his hand resting over her belly. It was the middle of the night, she was exhausted, well-bred and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. And when she woke up, maybe this nightmare would be over.

Her eyes snapped open. She was tied to an Alpha who she did not know, who did not ask if she wanted this, who was most likely intending to keep her after he kidnapped her; and then there was another Alpha who was waiting to have his go with her and was guilty of all the same things. She felt like she was going to throw up.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed until Hanzo’s knot finally dissipated. She stubbornly kept her eyes closed throughout the whole waiting period, not only to make it more bearable but also to ignore the green-haired Alpha lying beside her, giving her the hungriest eyes she had ever seen.

When Hanzo finally pulled out, a copious amount of his thick cum flowed out of her spent cunt. But it was no time for celebrations. Hanzo’s hands hadn’t even left her body yet when she was yanked out of his grasp with ease.

She was on her back again, in the same position as before, but this time with Genji on top of her.

“Finally you’re mine, sweet Omega,” he purred into her ear.

At least she got the big bad out of the way first. Genji seemed nicer compared to his brother, gentler even.

“I wanted to make our first mating special and long,” he continued, “but my dear brother took his time, torturing me with the view. I’m afraid I won’t be able to last very long.”

He pushed back her legs, almost folding her in half. Wasting no time, he pressed the tip of his cock against her entrance. Thanks to her and Hanzo’s mixed fluids, it slipped in smoothly and with a lewd squelch accompanying it. Immediately, he thrust all the way in, making her gasp in surprise.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Genji moaned.

Holding her hands above her head, he practically lay down on top of her, keeping her legs spread with his body. There was no warm-up, just a brutal pace right from the beginning. She saw stars every time his massive Alpha cock hit her cervix, but not in a pleasant way. And yet there was some twisted pleasure coming from the fact that he was so close to her womb.

His knot had already started forming – he wasn’t lying about this being a quick session. And yet Genji fucked like it wasn’t even there, pushing it in and out of her sensitive pussy like a madman. She squirmed underneath him, crying out repeatedly.

“I love how you sing for me,” Genji purred.

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. Then his teeth grazed her skin and she froze. An Alpha knotting her was definitely bad, but Alpha’s teeth anywhere near her neck was a lot worse.

“I would love to make you mine,” he hummed. “A little bite is all it takes...”

“Watch it,” Hanzo interrupted him with a hiss.

She glanced to the side. Hanzo was lounging on the futon some distance away from them, showing off his naked body with no particular care. It was almost like he had been taking a nap until his brother’s words woke him up and now he was glaring daggers at Genji through half-lidded eyes.

Genji didn’t pay much attention to the other Alpha. He only chuckled lowly, dangerously.

“Maybe Father will let you pick your mate. I wonder who you would choose.”

He brought his hand up to her neck and slowly pressed down. Her eyes widened and she started wriggling underneath him in panic. That made Genji chuckle and he pressed down on her neck even more, not enough to completely cut the air off, but enough to make her struggle.

“Don’t,” she wheezed, her hand gripping his wrist. “Please.”

Genji leaned in, his mouth open slightly as if mimicking her; the corners of his lips curled upward in a devilish grin. He was watching her with interest as he squeezed her neck more firmly, effectively cutting off her airways. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish on the land, her eyes wide with terror. She had thought Hanzo was the worse one; that he was the brute. But Genji was even worse, manipulating her into a fake sense of security and then fucking her just as ruthlessly.

The green-haired Alpha let out a breathy chuckle and whispered, “You’re squeezing down on my cock like crazy. I think you might actually be enjoying this.”

Just when her vision started to get a bit blurry, he released his hold on her neck and she sucked in a lungful of air. And yet the relief was short-lived. Genji’s knot had grown considerably, had gotten almost too big to fit in, so when he rammed it in, the mix of pain and pleasure made her gasp.

He moaned loudly, shamelessly, his hips continuing to rock against her despite his knot already locking in. It made her toes curl and she found herself walking right on the edge of another climax. His hips only stilled when he was ready to add to the mess inside of her, filling her up with his thick seed to the point of where she thought she might burst.

Genji ground his hips against her a bit longer, determined to give her everything he had; and in doing so, he managed to push her off the edge again. She moaned when a shock of pleasure ran through her body, sparks dancing in her vision, her fingers digging into the futon. The reaction was purely physical, but the high was so intense that she completely forgot about the reality of the situation, her brain kicking back into primal mode again. And with her mind clouded from all of the different sensations, she simply found it very satisfying – being full of Alpha cum like this.

Genji eventually rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. She was exhausted, her womb full of rich Alpha seed, her pussy still gripping a solid knot; she didn’t put up much of a fight. Her head was resting against his chest and she was able to hear his heartbeat, still going a bit faster than normal. His hand found its way to her lower back, his thumb caressing her skin soothingly.

“You did so well, sweet Omega,” the green-haired Alpha purred lazily. “You will be an irreplaceable addition to the Shimada clan.”

A hum of agreement came from somewhere in Hanzo’s direction.

His words caused a shiver to run down her spine, her blood suddenly turning to ice. This nightmare was only just beginning. Despite the proximity of Genji’s body, she suddenly felt really cold.

❀

#hanzo shimada x reader #hanzo x reader #genji shimada x reader #genji x reader #omegaverse #alpha hanzo #alpha genji #alpha/omega #overwatch #oversin #arya writes

[kakatenzo]

kkyam royalty au 1

okay I have two fic ideas that are centred around a royalty au and i wanted to post both on here and see which ones ppl preferred!

here’s royalty au 1 i’ll post the second one tomorrow

(ps this is un beta’d and it is 2:40am so i have not looked over it at all. just typed and hit send)

“You come here often?” Kakashi ask sleazily.

             It’s a cheap shot. He knows that, he’s sure he’s had better one liners at the tavern after one too many drinks but Kakashi can’t bring himself to care. The entire night has been occupied by stuck up nobility and empty conversations that carried across the ballroom. He’s just surprised he has managed to survive the entire night despite not coming from a royal lineage himself, it seems that all that condescending behaviour blocks all common sense and Kakashi tries not to be too smug about it. It’s a good thing he’s an excellent liar and charming if he really put his mind to it, and now he’s putting all his effort into trying to swoon this doe-eyed brunette. Kakashi hasn’t seen him before unlike the other parties of the monarchy who often were presented during ceremonies and announcements, so he assumes he is visiting from another kingdom. It’s perfect, Kakashi thinks, he’ll bag a noble for one night and never see them again.

             “Yes actually,” the brunette answers frowning and it catches Kakashi by surprise. “Konoha’s been my home since I was born. I suppose you are visiting?”

             Well, that’s one idea out the window so Kakashi replies dumbfoundedly, “Uh, yes.”

             It seems to jerk the brunette awake. “I apologise for I have misplaced my manners, good sir.” he says before straightening his shoulders and giving a bow. “I am Yamato, nobleman of Konoha.”

             Kakashi quickly dips into a bow. “Kakashi, crown prince of the Hatake kingdom.”

             Yamato raises a brow. “I don’t recall the Hatake family mentioning a visit to the kingdom.”

             The crown prince disguise had worked well the whole evening and if Kakashi is going to be honest with himself, it also gave his ego a small nudge but now his ego is deflating because it seems like he decided to try to court one of the only smart people in this ballroom.

             “It was all very last minute, so I apologise for the short notice.”

             The back of Kakashi’s neck prickles with heat and he resists the urge to ease the collar from his throat. The tavern is going to have a ball when they find out he got kicked out from the ball because he found a guy attractive.

             A small, almost bashful smile encompasses Yamato’s face instead and he amicably says. “I apologise I did not mean to doubt your presence. How are you finding the ball?”

             “Eh,” Kakashi says loosening up and his shoulders return to their usual hunched position. “Everyone here is on their high horse.”

             For a moment, Yamato looks horrified but then he laughs. Gentle and warm, and it invites Kakashi to relax further. “You’re very honest, do they allow the crown prince of your kingdom such brash honesty?”

             Kakashi returns a laugh because he is the opposite of honest. He is conning this poor man with his endless spindle of lies from the moment he had opened his mouth. “I’m only honest to people that I like,” he winks, “but I’m sure there are more honest people than me.”

             Yamato shakes his head. “I’ve been attending these royal balls since I was a child. Everybody treats you like you’re below them and make you feel small over the silliest things.”

             “Why do you keep attending them?” Kakashi asks and tries to ignore the sincerity that pools in his chest. “Can you not decline the invitation? It would save you from a lot of misery and hassle.”

             “I seldom do,” Yamato’s eyes slide to the side and breaks their eye contact. “My aunt she—she’s very high up and it’s pertinent I attend these events to create connections with other kingdoms.”

             Kakashi squashes the warmth of sincerity and replaces it with the hot rush of want. “Do you want to make a connection with me?” he offers haughtily and Yamato rewards him with a scandalised expression and a wonderful flush that disappears under his collar.

             His smile is timid but Yamato’s voice is firm when he says, “I’m not opposed to the idea of making connections with you.”

             “Let’s go make our connection somewhere less crowded.” Kakashi says and offers his arm.

             Yamato quietly latches onto the crook of Kakashi’s elbows and Kakashi escorts him out to the courtyard. They are greeted by the cool air of the evening and the luminescent glow of the moon who casts a soft spotlight on the shrubbery below her. The roses sleep gently under the calm glow of the moon, they rest because they are tired after dancing with the sun all morning. The rest of the greenery follows suit, all the branches hang low, the leaves don’t dance as they sleep to the orchestra of chirping crickets. The courtyard is large and paves a quarter of the unending garden, its stones are smooth and even unlike the rough cobbled pavements in the centre of town. The courtyard is fenced off by a low stone wall which Kakashi hops onto and pats the space next to him, offering Yamato to do the same.

             They’re both facing away from the large doors of the ballroom and Yamato tilts his head back as if he’s drinking in the light of the moon. “This is my favourite place in the palace.” He says quietly like a confession.

             “I can see why. It’s peaceful out here.” Kakashi says in agreement. “What do you like to do for fun, Yamato?”

             “What do you mean?” Yamato answers. His head snaps down to look at Kakashi and he almost looks baffled.

             Kakashi quirks a brow. “You know, when you’re not doing these parties or your duties? What do you do in your spare time?”

             Yamato bites his lip drawing Kakashi’s attention. “I like to tend this garden.” He decides after a moment.

             “Is that all?” Kakashi presses. He’s not a royal but he’s sure Yamato has at least some hobbies that don’t involve standing around and looking pretty all day.

             Even under the moonlight Kakashi can see the deep blush that spreads on Yamato’s face. “Well,” he starts. “I like sword fighting and I used to practice with the knights until they found—well, let’s just say nobody really liked to challenge me. The knights were all frightened they’d accidentally hurt me and then would get executed.”

             Kakashi can’t help the laugh that escapes his mouth. “Really?” he says gleefully. “I never expected you to be invested in combat.”

             Yamato looks away then. “I was interested in a lot of different things, but I had to whittle it down because it didn’t seem right, for someone like me to do them.”

             Someone like Yamato? “I thought noblemen could do whatever they wanted as long as it didn’t betray the kingdom.” Kakashi frowns. He’s sure he had seen the duke wandering around doing activities that Kakashi wouldn’t crown ‘duke-ly’.

             “I guess they just have high expectations,” Yamato shrugs. “Enough about me, you’re the crown prince! I’m sure you have much more exciting things to share than me.”

             “Where do I start?” Kakashi says coolly as he rapidly searches through all his memories. How the hell was he going to fabricate a royal story? He had many in the town and in the countryside, but they all consisted of him working or training and neither seemed princely. He then forces himself to remember all those conversations he had with those prudish Lords and Ladies in hopes of bringing up a hobby that was vaguely plausible.

             “If you don’t mind,” Yamato breaks his rapid-fire train of thought. “Can I ask how you received your scar?”

             Kakashi’s fingers find the line that staggers under his eye before it disappears into his mask. “It was from an attack,” he answers honestly for the first time that evening. “My friend and I were out where we weren’t meant to be, and we had been ambushed. This was from a knife.”

             He brushes his hair from his brow and slowly follows the ridge of his brow, over the curve of his eyelid and then over the soft fabric of the mask. Yamato’s eyes follow the path carefully, his eyes bright under the moonlight and his mouth slightly open in awe. “Is that why you wear the mask? For your safety?”

             Kakashi nods quickly in agreement.

             “You’re lucky to have survived, Prince Kakashi.” Yamato quips and hearing his name in Yamato’s mouth makes his heart jump.

             “It was a fair fight.” Kakashi says easily. “I won in the end anyway.”

             Yamato’s eyes widen and he sits up eagerly. “Do you get to train at your palace?”

             Kakashi thinks of the field. It is by no means a training room nor the mighty barracks that housed the knights. During winter, when the ground froze over, was when he would accumulate the most bruises after a spar and during summer, the soil would be so dry that it would kick up everywhere. It ended in his eyes, his hair, under his nails and he always came home dirty. He thinks of his makeshift targets and dummy, the way they’ve been branded with marks since he was a child and how they’re worn and yellowed with age. He wonders if Yamato had managed to brandish a shiny sword at all and practice his footing on even ground.

             “Yes, all the time.” Kakashi answers and he can’t look into Yamato’s eyes. “I begged my father so I could protect myself and it proved worthy.”

             Suddenly his hands are engulfed with Yamato’s own warm ones. “Could you teach me something?” he asks earnestly.

             Yamato is smiling so widely and Kakashi realises that Yamato may be the only genuine face he has encountered tonight. “Sure,” Kakashi says and leaps to his feet with Yamato following suit. “We have no swords, so we’ll focus on hand to hand combat.”

             Kakashi begins with stances, he notes the importance of the stance and how to make sure there are no openings that make Yamato vulnerable. He then moved onto basic attacks, how to disarm your opponent and the weakest points of the human body.

             “You’re a quick learner,” Kakashi comments nonchalantly and gently fixes Yamato’s arms by raising his elbow slightly.

             “Can I fight now?” Yamato asks with a glint in his eyes.

             Kakashi splutters. “I’m not going to fight you, Yamato.”

             The nobleman drops his stance. “How am I going to learn if I don’t fight someone?”

             “Your practice stances will kick in.” Kakashi lies. He had always made his students fight him.

             “Don’t lie to me. The knights spar all the time!” Yamato protests and Kakashi bites back on a grin.

             “I’ll go easy on you,” Kakashi offers. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your pretty face.”

             The deep flush invites itself again on Yamato’s face as he enters his first stance. They both move shift around in a circle, waiting for the other to make a move, arms and hands close to their face and chests, and their eyes locked onto each other intensely. Kakashi throws the first attack to which Yamato quickly parries and it leaves his neck exposed. Kakashi hooks his arm over the crook of Yamato’s neck but Yamato grabs his arm with both hands and throws Kakashi off. He stumbles back and Yamato follows with two quick punches, Kakashi ducks and before Yamato can throw a jab, he rises quickly, years of agility drilled into him and knocks Yamato back onto the grass.

             He lands with a soft ooft and leans back on his hands, he looks up at Kakashi with bright eyes, a ruddy face and a wide grin. His hair is ruffled but his shoulders are much more relaxed. “You’re very skilled, Kakashi.” Yamato compliments catching his breath.

             Kakashi stretches his arm out to offer a hand and pulls Yamato up. He jumps to his feet and ends up nearer to Kakashi than he had anticipated. “You’re a quick learner,” Kakashi parrots from earlier. He’s distracted by their vicinity. “You did well.”

             Their hands are still conjoined and Kakashi’s eyes drop to their clasped hands before dragging his eyes back up to Yamato’s dark gaze. Something snaps in the heavy silence between them, and Kakashi finds himself leaning in but Yamato stops him with a gentle press of his free hand to Kakashi’s chest.

             “Kakashi,” he says warily but his brows furrow with determination. “I have something to tell you.”

             Before either of them can get a word in the doors to the ballroom burst open and they both break apart from each other as if they’d been shocked. Queen Tsunade steps onto the courtyard and they both bow to greet her. Kakashi’s head swims as he straightens back up because Queen Tsunade is not a force to be reckoned with. He’s sure she’s caught him, she knows that he’s not a royal at all and has been parading around as a fraud all evening, and the mere thought of her punishment sends an awful bout of guttural anxiety.

             “Ah, there you are Tenzo!” Queen Tsunade bellows across the courtyard and approaches the duo. “I thought you had disappeared before the ceremony and I was getting worried. Come along now, you know we can’t start it without you and the people are waiting.”

             The relief that Queen Tsunade isn’t here for Kakashi doesn’t take the edge off his nerves. She’s even more powerful in person and this is the closest Kakashi has gotten to her. She’s shorter than he had expected, but her stoic glare and booming voice has commanded many rooms. Her blonde hair is loose over her shoulders, they fall gracefully frown the crown atop her head, and she places her hands on her hips, crinkling the jade green dress she’s often seen in. Kakashi is glad he no longer has Yamato’s hand in his grasp because he’s sure his hand would slip out with how much his palms are sweating.

             Yamato shoots him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I’m afraid I have to go. Where can I find you later?”

             “Let’s meet here.” Kakashi says with the intention to bid Yamato goodbye before he returns to his regular civilian life. He had told enough lies tonight to last a lifetime.

             “I look forward to it.” Yamato says sweetly before turning to follow Queen Tsunade back inside.

             Kakashi lets out a sigh of relief and steals one long glance around the garden that Yamato had tended himself. He cranes his head to the moon, she had been the only audience to their dance, if you could call it such and turns on his heel to return to the ballroom.

             Gai is easy to find in the crowded ballroom because he is impressing a small crowd with handstands. Kakashi joins the crowd in watching Gai perform and remembers when he had challenged Kakashi to see who could hold a handstand for the longest. Unfortunately, it had been winter and the ground was damp with rain that left their hands muddy, cold and unmoveable.

             Towards the centre of the room, a servant calls for the audience’s attention so Kakashi steps forward. “I’m so sorry to interrupt the entertainment, but I believe there is a royal announcement.”

             Gai fixes himself back onto his feet with unyielding control and the small crowd reward him with a short round of applause before they all usher each other to the centre of the room.

             “Kakashi!” Gai booms. “It has been the most wonderful evening!”

             “I’m glad you’ve been enjoying it,” Kakashi says while Gai swings an arm around his shoulders. “Would you like to watch the ceremony?”

             “Why, of course!” Gai exclaims. “It would be of our best interest to make the most of our stay.”

             Truth be told, Kakashi really could not care for the ceremony because all he can think of is Yamato’s ruddy grinning face under the moonlight. How his eyes glittered even in the dark shawl of the night sky. (How dark his gaze had been when they were all but pressed close to each other with the moon as their only witness.)

             Although they are on the outskirts of the crowd, Queen Tsunade’s voice doesn’t fail to reach them from across the room. “Foremost, I would like to thank those who have attended today. It is always a pleasant sight to see, the unity of the kingdoms and our people, especially for an occasion such as this.” She pauses and the room waits with bated breath. “I am here tonight to proudly announce my heir and who will be next in line to the throne.”

             Her speech sends the room to a stifled but frenzied whisper. Heir? Queen Tsunade had no children. Her husband passed away before she could bear any heirs. Who is this heir? Has she passed the lineage of Konoha to a neighbouring kingdom’s prince? How are we to trust this new heir to rule Konoha?

             Queen Tsunade continues resiliently. “I apologise for hiding him from his people, he was too young to be exposed to the masses but I assure you he has been in this kingdom the entire time and I am confident that he will serve you, our people, very well. That’s why he is here today, because he has come of age and has grown into a splendid young man.” She smiles softly, pride shines in her eyes and she steps aside. “I would like to introduce my dear nephew, Prince Tenzo Senju, as your next ruler.”

             The room bursts into a cacophony of applause as Tenzo emerges and joins his aunt, Queen Tsunade, at the front of the crowd. He gives an obligatory bow, back straight as if he’s rehearsed it a lifetime and just like the one he gave Kakashi earlier that night. Except it’s not exact because his hair is ruffled from their short spar. Gai is clapping wildly next to him but it seems as if Kakashi can’t move his arms. The noise is far too loud—no, it is far too quiet and Kakashi drowns in the rushing noise of his thoughts filling his head. Realisation sinks in, like the first chill of winter that sinks deep into your bones, but you’ve not prepared a coat and you’re left shivering in the early rays of the sun.

             Then Tenzo turns and catches his eyes. He spares Kakashi a tight lipped smile, empty of the mirth from earlier that evening. No wonder why the knights didn’t allow Yamato to train, because they would have been fighting the crown prince of Konoha. He had little hobbies to do because he’s spent his entire life preparing to be the next ruler. With each piece that clicks into place the sinking feeling in his stomach only tightens.

             “—Kakashi,” Gai says and it shakes Kakashi out of his trance. There is a firm but grounding grip on his shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

             “Nothing. I’m just looking forward to meeting someone in the courtyard later tonight.”

#kakayama #my writing #WHEW this ended up longer than expected #kakashi #yamato #yamato tenzo #tenzo #kakashi hatake #naruto fic

[letshaikyuu]

ᑎO ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ ᗯEᖇE ᗷᒪOOᗰIᑎG (ᗩKᗩᗩᔕᕼI KEIᒍI ᔕᑕEᑎᗩᖇIO)

Synopsis: Akaashi and you were childhood crushes that got separated when you moved away. Social media was never enough to fill the void. What will Akaashi do when you come back and one of his teammates seems to have a crush on you?

A/N: I am not very skilled in writing scenarios so bear with me here. It’s also a female reader insert, sorry boys :(

Word count: 2522

No flowers were blooming in spring anymore for Akaashi Keiji. He was making towards the school grounds like it was just any other day. It was just another dull start to his second year of high school without you by his side. Akaashi would never forget the time you two picked flowers for your flower crowns that one spring day, mere days before school was supposed to start and you were to crouch into new school adventures. It felt like any other ordinary day outside while your mothers were sipping some tea inside the house. But, Keiji was not unfamiliar with emotions and facial expressions, even at a young age he was able to differentiate different emotions even though people tried hiding them. You were nowhere near the happy and cheerful girl that filled the silence with your childish glee and laughter. You were so quiet.

»»---------------------►

"Keiji..."

A whisper that would have been hard to hear for many, but Keiji knew your voice by heart. Looking up, his eyes were fixed on the tears filling up your eyes that were dangerously close to falling. Keiji was never the one to show much emotion or care, but this situation didn't fail to angrily burn his heart. What was going on?

Your next words burned his already aching heart even more as you let your tears freely fall down your face. Keiji didn't move. You didn't have the heart to wait for his reply so Keiji was left alone, eyes locking on your running figure that found comfort into your mother's arms. You two left soon after. Keiji was still sitting on his knees in the garden. Your neatly made flower crown on the ground was beside him and fallen apart. Was this happening?

"Keiji...I'm leaving Japan tomorrow."

»»---------------------►

The first day of school was over and he was already tired. He wanted to go back home and close himself off from the outside world for a few hours. Grab his phone and go through his gallery. Besides the huge amount of Bokuto's selfies on his phone, here and there a screenshot from his social media accounts popped up. Keiji was never the one for social media. It was a waste of time, he would say. What was the point in endlessly scrolling and looking through profiles of people you probably don't even know? But Keiji does have social media. It wasn't his choice. His mother bought him a newer phone shortly after you moved away. "So you can stay in touch even when she's so far away," his mother said to him when she gave him the phone and ruffled his hair, "there's no point in giving up, is there Keiji?"

That is how Keiji tried to stay in contact with you. You easily found each other on social media and he was glad you still wanted to talk to him. At first, your messages were frequent and filled with stories about your new school and friends. There wasn't a moment to put away your phone cause the messages kept coming. Keiji would merely reply with a "that's nice" and "hope you're liking it there", but he always read them all with a sad smile on his face. You seemed to fit in well with the people there. Keiji always admired you for that. It was you who decided to befriend this quiet, little boy in the house beside yours when you were little. He will never admit how much he appreciated you for that.

The worst part is that Keiji started developing a crush on you. He tried to talk himself out of it by seeing it was normal to have such feelings at a young age and that they will evaporate as he grows older. But they never did. You were becoming more and more beautiful as the days and seasons went by and Keiji couldn't wrap his head around what was happening with him. That little crush of his didn't go unnoticed. His mother figured it out very quickly and never failed to embarrass Keiji whenever he announced he was going out to play with you.

"You'll make a fine gentleman one day Keiji. Don't you forget that."

Unconsciously, he smiled at his mother's words as he entered the hot gym. The sounds of volleyball hitting the ground were enough to snap him out of his thoughts and refocus at the task at hand. He had practice. Bokuto Koutarou was loudly yelling at his kouhai and teasing him about how he's late and he was to do extra laps at the end of the training. The rest of the team chuckled at his words because there was no way Bokuto was going to stick to that.

"I apologize Bokuto-san. It won't happen again." Akaashi's words cut through the once cheerful atmosphere like a knife as he walked towards the locker room to change. Bokuto looked at the figure of his best friend that was soon lost with the door closing behind him. He was named captain for a reason. Bokuto Koutarou, no matter the excessive amounts of mood swings he has, knows when something is going on...and in Akaashi's case, he had quite a good guess as to what is bothering him.

When Keiji stepped foot on the court and started playing, there was no doubt in Bokuto's mind that his bad performance was caused by overflowing thoughts in his head. There was no beating around the bush in this situation, especially when the others knew about this.

"Oi Akaashi." His voice was rather serious for someone who's usually so cheerful and filled with positive energy. Keiji knew where this was leading to and he was dreading every second of it. "Isn't Y/N coming back soon?"

There it was. The ever-so sensitive topic to Akaashi Keiji. How Bokuto found out was still a mystery to him, but it was futile to hide anything from his curious senpai. He didn't mind. It was something that was in the past and there was no need to run away from it. Or at least that's how Keiji wanted his feelings to be portrayed. The ball that was being held in his hand was tossed back in with the others in the trolley as Keiji called it a day. The practice was soon to be over anyway. His teammates, especially the senpais, knew him well enough to know when Keiji is done with something so they didn't want to meddle. But meddling was Bokuto Koutarou's middle name.

"Akaashi I'm-"

"There is no need to apologize Bokuto-san. I am doing just fine and there is no guarantee that Y/N is coming back." Keiji knew he was lying, but the way those words effortlessly came out of his mouth made him think otherwise. He has told himself this lie over and over again that it sounded like the truth.

Back home, Keiji took out his phone to scroll through his gallery. He knew by heart where those screenshots of your conversations were. He started looking at them.

»»---------------------► Sept. 12th

"Heeeeey Keiji I just saw this cool painting of flowers the other day! I remember how much you loved hydrangeas! They always made your eyes pop heh"

"That sounds nice Y/N"

"You know I always think of my best friend Keiji ;)"

"Of course I do. I do the same"read 11:17pm

»»---------------------► Dec. 17th

"Hey...is everything alright there? We haven't talked in a while...I know we're both busy, but let's not let that stop us from talking!"

"Don't worry about that, but I have to go now. Sorry."

"Oh...that's okay...Take care Keiji"

"You too."read 10:47pm

»»---------------------►Feb. 8th

"Akaashi guess what! I'm moving back to Japan this year!! I can't wait to see you, I missed you so much..."seen 00:23am

»»---------------------►

Keiji would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat when he saw your last text message. He didn't know how to feel. That childish glee he felt years before, while you were still here, warmed his heart and he didn't know how to react. The memories of your childhood adventures made him smile in remembrance, but was he ready for this? Were flowers blooming again in his heart?

»»---------------------►

The following day had an eerie feeling to it. Keiji wasn't sure what was happening, but it felt odd. He felt odd. Like there was a nest of angry crows battling inside of him. His head was hurting as well. Walking towards the gym, he felt as if he would pass out at any moment. Were you moving back to Japan? In the back of his mind, Keiji knew that neither his heart or his head was ready to see you again and confront you about his feelings. Maybe you were leaving a boyfriend behind. Maybe you even found a loving girlfriend. You were probably heartbroken that you had to leave your friends and move back here at such age. Was it necessary to list all the bad things about mo-

"Keiji?"

Just like a flower's bloom in spring, Keiji's heart fluttered at the sound of such a sweet and loving tone. To some, it was just an everyday voice that you could hear everywhere. To Keiji, it was a bird's chirp, a kid's giggle, a heart's warmth. There was no doubt in his mind that it was you.

"Y/N?" His eyes looked up and in the crowd of tall figures, he easily spots you. You grew up into a beautiful girl. Your face matured and so did your body. But your eyes...your eyes still held that mischievousness and happiness they had years ago when Keiji saw them filled with tears. That was a sight that haunted him for years as it was the last time Keiji saw you before your move. He couldn't have you walking out on him at the airport, your small body growing further and further away. It was a big bite to swallow for little Keiji.

But here you were, looking as beautiful as ever...with Konoha's arm over your shoulder? What even-

"Omg Keiji it's really you!" You smiled widely at the sight of your childhood friend, but your feet were planted firmly to where you were standing. You two kind of drifted apart these past few months, there was no doubt about it. He didn't even read your last message to him and you were so excited about moving back and possibly confessing to him. Would it be too much to run to him and hug him tightly? To feel all the emotions begging to be released on the surface as his arms tighten around you?

"Would it be that bad to feel your love again?"

»»---------------------►

There was no way in hell that Keiji was going to let you date Konoha. There was no problem with him or if he had a girlfriend, but it was not going to be you. It was official. You moved back to Japan for what seems forever, you were in Fukurodani and Konoha Akinori had a crush on you. Akaashi Keiji was jealous. That too was official.

Unfortunately for Keiji, you became close friends with the team so you frequented coming to practice a lot. Although the awkward silence that filled the gym whenever you and Keiji were in the same room wasn't easy to ignore, the team tried to let you two clear the air by yourselves. And no, Konoha did not have a crush on you, but he did have a plan. Make Akaashi so jealous that he has to confess to you to move on! That's right, Fukurodani does not meddle.

Konoha was pushing his limits very much and Keiji's tolerance was reaching a big, fat zero very fast. It wasn't until he bluntly asked you out on a date that Akaashi felt like waiting longer would mean losing you forever. Storming out of the gym with your forearm in his grasp, Keiji left the gym with a smirking Konoha behind.

"Akaashi- What is wrong with you!?" You pulled your arm out of his grip and stood your ground. "Who gave you the right to pull me out of there like that!?"

You were prepared with an onslaught of comments regarding his unusual behavior, but you bit your tongue. Why was he fuming in rage? There could've easily been steam coming out of his ears. But your words made him even angrier and sadder. What happened to calling him Keiji? To teasing him about how much you found his name gorgeous and fitting for such a guy like himself? You always brought a smile on his face whenever his name left your lips. Now, it was nowhere to be heard of.

He tried to calm himself down, but the years of keeping quiet and not having you around were too much for him to keep his usual calm demeanor. Turning around, he took a deep breath before opening his eyes to look at your shocked face. Taking a cautious step forwards, he took hold of your hands before continuing.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted Y/N back there. I'm also sorry for letting us drift apart." His mellow voice sounded out into the quiet, night background. There was no one in sight and Keiji felt it was easier to voice out his thoughts. "You can't imagine how much I missed you and wanted you to come back to me."

Tears were brimming in your eyes again, but this team Keiji was there to handle them when they fall.

"I love you Y/N...I did when we were kids and I...I still do now." His hand moved to wipe the stray tear slowly trickling down your face and he was quick to pull you into a hug. He was not letting you run away from him this time.

"Keiji w-why didn't you say anything before?"

He chuckled and that wonderful sound was music to your ears. "We were just kids back then. Nothing would've changed you moving away, wouldn't it?"

Keiji knew he was right. He may have doubted his decision before, but now it felt like it was the right thing to have waited this long. In the end, you were in his arms as both of you have already wanted and there was no doubt in his mind that this was exactly where you belong.

"You know what Keiji..," you moved away from his chest and lovingly took hold of his face. You couldn't have even dreamed about Keiji growing up into someone this handsome and beautiful. It was better than any painting your eyes saw of hydrangeas that reminded you of him. This in front of you, was a true piece of art. And you were happy to call it yours.

"I love you too Keiji...ever since we were kids."

No flowers were blooming in spring for Akaashi Keiji. Now, flowers were blooming in every season. In spring they were at their peak. In summer they were constantly with him and keeping him company. In autumn they would slowly start falling asleep and in winter there has always been this one flower that survived the harsh weather and snow that keeps blooming only for him. And that flower will always be you.

#akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi #hq akaashi #akaashi angst #akaashi fluff #akaashi scenario #akaashi imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyū!! #haikyuu headcanons

[labyrinth-runner]

Aconite in the Night

A Garden in Gotham

FUN FACT: This does have bits of last week’s chapter in it, but I revamped it and merged it with this weeks chapter because I like this finished outcome better.

Roman x Reader

read it here

Roman made you spend the night with him in his loft, thinking that it was too late for you to go home at that point. It was the first night you’d spent at his place, but after the events of the day you were both so exhausted that you just fell asleep the second you crawled into bed.

“Roman, I’ve got to go to work,” you groaned the next morning when his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you back into bed.

“Darling, take the day off. You own the place, don’t you? Can’t you take time off whenever you want?” he whined.

“Do you take time off?” you countered, turning in his arms.

“Lately? Yes. I’ve been taking a lot of time off, actually, now that I think about it,” he said thoughtfully.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good business model,” you teased.

“No, I suppose it’s not. But, being in the club doesn’t excite me anymore,” he sighed.

“So, you quit when things don’t excite you?” you asked. “Woe to me when I fail to excite Roman Sionis.”

“First of all, Darling, I would never get tired of you. Second of all, it’s more just... I’ve been thinking and I don’t know if I want this lifestyle anymore,” he said honestly. Waking up like this with you had made him think that maybe living a quieter life might be nice. If he could ever get to that point. Old habits did die hard.

“What made you think that? The great Roman Sionis doesn’t want to be King of Gotham anymore?” you asked.

“No. Not since you,” he smiled softly. “You make me want to give up all this and do something that is less stressful and makes me happy.”

“Well, what makes you happy?”

“You.”

“Besides me, Roman,” you chuckled. “You can’t make a career out of me.”

“Well, no, but I could work with you? What if I sell the club and invest in your shop?” he asked.

You sat up straight in bed to look down at him. “Roman, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to. Think about it. With my money behind you, you could expand and have multiple shops,” he said, stroking his chin.

“Would you just be a silent partner?” you asked, raising a brow.

“I’d rather be hands-on,” he winked.

You blushed, “Roman, you don’t know the first thing about flowers.”

“But I’m willing to learn,” he said adamantly. “I’ve already made a bouquet for you. Teach me the basics and I’ll grow as we go.”

You shook your head, thinking it over. “The Great Roman Sionis wants to be a florist.”

“I do.”

“It’s not going to be easy. It’ll be a major adjustment, and the money isn’t as lucrative as running a club.”

“I don’t care. It’s what I want to do,” he replied. “When can I start?”

“Today. Stop by the shop later on my lunch break and I’ll teach you,” you smiled.

“That implies that you’re getting out of this bed,” he frowned.

“That it does,” you winked.

Roman sighed. “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you tossed over your shoulder. He turned back over in bed while you got ready for the day and went to work. You nodded to Zsasz on your way out and he looked at you in disgust, having heard your entire conversation with Roman.

When it was time for your break, you decided to pull out some flowers to practice arranging with Roman. Thinking about everything the two of you had been through and what he was willing to do to change, you settled on the Gladiolus flower and red roses. You figured it was time. 

You heard the bell at the front of the shop jingle and smiled. “You’re early.”

“What can I say?” he smiled. “I was excited.”

He walked over to the stacks of flowers you’d placed on the work table for him, giving them a once over. 

“What do these mean?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you after,” you replied with a small smile.

“Cryptic, Darling,” he grinned.

“I’m a woman of mystery,” you joked.

He laughed at that. 

“Now, first things first. You want to cut all your stems on an angle, and get rid of any leaves that will be below the water line. It will help the flowers stay fresh longer,” you explained, taking some flowers and snipping away at them.

“Do they all have to be the same height?” he asked.

“Yes, if they’re going into a bouquet that you’re handing to someone, because they’ll probably be cut again to fit that vase, but not if you’re putting them directly in a vase.”

Roman nodded intently as he stared at the vase you’d put in front of him.

You raised an eyebrow at him as he started to thoughtfully arrange the flowers. Soon enough, he had stepped back to survey his work.

“Darling, am I limited to these two flowers?” he asked, “Or am I allowed to use your wall?”

“By all means, go ahead,” you smirked. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“Well, it’s your garden. I’m merely a guest,” he grinned.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him as he went to pull out some more filler flowers and leaves to arrange in his bouquet. When he was done, he turned his vase towards you. 

“Well?” he asked. He tried to seem disinterested, but you could see the unmistakable hope in his eyes.

What surprised you the most, though, was that Roman was actually quite good at this. Gently, you reached out to pull his vase closer, a smile blossoming on your face as you looked down at the arrangement.

“Your silence is scary. It’s terrible, baby, isn’t it?” he sighed in frustration.

“No! Not at all!” You said adamantly. “I think it’s beautiful. You might have a career out of this.”

He raised a skeptical brow at you. “You really think I could be a florist?”

You nodded. “Roman Sionis, I think you could be whatever you want to be.”

A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “I-I see.”

Stepping around to his side of the work bench, you rested your hands on his chest. “Roman, what do you want to be?”

“Besides yours?” he asked softly as he pulled you in for a hug. You rested your head against his chest. “I think I’d like being a florist. I like creating things. It’s fun, and I like the fact that it says something as well as being nice to look at.”

He looked down at the flowers and tilted his head. “What do these mean anyway? I know people give roses a lot, but I figure they must have a meaning, too.”

Resting your cheek against his chest, you turned to look at the bouquet. “Gladiolus mean strength. I think you’re strong for changing your entire lifestyle.”

“And the roses?”

“Roses have different meanings depending on their colors.”

“Great, an added layer of information I’ll have to learn,” he grimaced.

You chuckled. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

“So, what do red roses mean?”

You bit your lip. 

“They mean-”

You were interrupted by Zsasz.

“Boss, we’ve got that prior commitment coming up.”

“Right,” Roman sighed. “Of course.”

He gave you an apologetic look and went to leave. “Later, baby. I’ll catch up with you later.”

You nodded. “At least let me wrap up your bouquet.”

“We don’t have time,” Zsasz said impatiently.

Roman winked at you and left for the car.

Roman and Zsasz were dealing with some clients who had failed to pay Roman what he was owed. Normally, this would result in Roman giving Zsasz the signal, and then Roman needed new clients. However, this time… Roman didn’t give the signal. Zsasz was standing there with his knife to the side of this man’s face and Roman faltered.

Zsasz gestured to the knife and then to the other man’s face. “Boss?”

Roman saw the fear in the man’s eyes like he was looking at a monster. Was Roman a monster, standing there in his mask looking down on him? Roman Sionis thought about all the parents who warned of Black Mask to keep their children safe at night and wondered if he was still the monster that everyone made him out to be, the monster that he once thought he needed to be. Roman’s eyes flicked to Zsasz’s expectant hand, and he walked away. He couldn’t give the order. Not this time, not anymore. Not when he looked into that man’s face and saw yours full of hope and love staring back at him. His heart was hammering in his chest as he walked away, hearing the man’s screams behind him. Would there have been any scenario where that man would have lived? No, he supposed there wouldn’t be. He didn’t want this anymore.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe in his mask. It was suffocating him with the weight of everything he had ever done while wearing it. He was the thing of nightmares. He was dark and dangerous, the lord of the underworld. But you… you were his Persephone. His goddess of spring, with your flowers and sunny disposition, you made him want to be a part of your world instead of his. He ripped off his mask and let it fall from his hands as he broke down, sliding down the wall. Roman Sionis wanted out, but he was so deep in this pit of darkness and chaos that he could barely see the light at the top. Still, he knew what was at the top. It would be you, holding out your arms to take him into them. He wiped the tears from his face, smudging his eyeliner with his white gloves, but not caring enough about it. He needed you. He just didn’t think he deserved you. No, he knew he didn’t deserve you.

He heard the screams grow louder and pulled himself up to go and stop Zsasz, but it was too late. Zsasz came sauntering up the hall, holding the mask of flesh that dripped along the concrete floor with every step. He tossed it at Roman’s feet so that it was almost staring up at him. He was disgusted with what Roman had become. The man used to have Gotham at his feet, and now he was wiling to throw it all away for some florist, some weak, do-good florist. You were wrecking Roman and he wasn’t going to stand for it any longer. No, the King of Gotham’s underbelly was going on playgrounds and becoming too interested in flowers. He had to put a stop to this before Roman did something he regretted. Zsasz was only looking out for his boss. Zsasz was not going to lose his boss. Not to anyone, and especially not to you.

Zsasz shoulder checked him as he walked past. “I did what you asked, boss.”

Roman looked back at him in horror, running towards the now muffled cries of pain. He gently scooped the body up in his arms. The man was whimpering, blood was getting on Roman’s clothes.

 “I’m so sorry,” Roman apologized softly. Yet, it was too late. The man had died. His apology falling on deaf ears. He lowered the body to the ground. He’d do better. You deserved better.

“Take me to her house, Zsasz,” Roman said hollowly after he got up.

“Of course, boss,” he replied, trying to hide his disgust.

The ride home to the apartment was silent. Zsasz was formulating a plan as he watched Roman stare despondently out the window like a lost puppy. Pathetic.

They pulled up to your house and Roman went to knock on the door. You opened it, excited when you’d seen him through the peephole of your door. But, as you opened the door, the smile faltered. He was drenched in blood. Panic started to set in.

“Roman, who’s blood is that?” you asked quietly.

“It’s paint,” he lied before pulling you in for a kiss. It’s hard and rough. His lips met yours over and over again, and he apologized in between them. He didn’t let you catch your breath as he promised to do better because he’s such a terrible person. When he pulled back, he noticed that you were drenched in blood from his clothes. A thought struck him then, that this is what a life with him would do to someone like you. It would take someone as clean and pure as yourself and ruin you, soiling you with the blood on his hands. His eyes widened and he made an impulsive decision.

“We should break up,” he stated.

“Roman Sionis, you can’t come into my apartment, kiss me like that, and then try to dump me,” you yelled. 

“Darling, you deserve so much better,” he replied.

“I’ll be the judge of what I deserve, Roman,” you said adamantly. “You’re not getting rid of me.” You grew quiet, thinking back to how he abandoned things that failed to excite him. “Unless you don’t love me anymore?”

“No, that’s not it at all!” he said sincerely. “I do love you. I love everything about you.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s...” he sighed, letting the mask slip in place. “Forget it.” He couldn’t tell you about what he was. 

Your eyes softened and you went over to the bouquet you’d brought home from earlier. You took up a red rose and handed it to him.

“What do red roses mean?” he asked quietly. “They mean that I love you. You gave me an arbutus and I never told you how I felt,” you smiled.

“You really mean that?” he asked in awe.

“I do, Roman. I love you, which is why you’re not dumping me. Now, go home and take a shower,” you chuckled, pulling him in for a kiss.

He kissed back, and smiled when he pulled away. “Alright.”

You playfully pushed him out the door, and he left for his car, twirling his rose in his hand. On the ride home, he looked down at it, promising himself to do better and be worthy of someone as pure as you.

When they got back, Roman went straight to bed after he showered, not even caring for the festivities in the club at all. Zsasz got a drink and met with some contacts to finalize his plan. Then, he went up to the loft. He settled into Roman’s desk and opened the laptop for some research.

“Since she likes flowers so much, let’s see how she likes these,” he grinned malevolently as he paid for a bouquet. Now, all he had to do was wait.

You went through the next day like a breeze, working on your community garden. It was almost finished and you couldn’t wait to show Roman. After putting your tools away, you went home for the day. When you got to your apartment, there was a bouquet waiting for you. That was strange, since Roman had already gotten his daily bouquet, not to mention, the meaning of these flowers was not quite as nice as the bouquets the two of you swapped.

“Aconite and black roses,” you murmured. “Definitely not happy flowers.”

The bouquet made you feel uneasy and you sent a picture to Roman asking if he sent them before making picking them up and going into your apartment. It all happened so quickly. One moment you were closing the door, and the next the world was spinning and fading to black as strong arms grabbed you from behind.

When you didn’t answer his text messages, Roman got nervous. It wasn’t like you to not respond, especially when he asked what was the matter. He paced back and forth across his loft as a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Something had happened. He knew it. He felt it. Those flowers… something about them was off. He settled into his desk to look them up and saw the same flowers in the recent search history, but hedidn’t search for them. His eyes darkened with anger. Zsasz.

Your vision slowly came back to you, but you weren’t sure if you could trust it. You saw colors and shapes. It was almost overwhelming. Your eyes came into focus and you realized you were in the center of your garden. Your garden in the middle of the park in the dead of the night.

“You’ve done a nice job,” Zsasz smirked. “Looks decent, for flowers.”

“Zsasz,” you asked in confusion. You went to get up but noticed that your hands were tied.

“Please, stay where you are. It’ll all be over soon,” he murmured, switching open a knife. “Did you like my flowers?”

“Aconite and black roses,” you spat. “Can’t send a clearer message than that.”

“He was growing soft,” Zsasz replied. “If the boss goes soft, then what would happen to me?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked in confusion.

“Oh, that’s right. You don’t know,” he grinned maniacally. “Your knight in shining armor is more like a prince of darkness, sweetheart.”

“That’s not true.”

“Ever heard of black mask?” he asked, stepping closer.

You swallowed. You’d heard the name once or twice. It was never followed by anything good. “You’re lying.”

“You won’t live long enough to find out,” he purred as he playfully swung the knife this way and that. He pulled open his shirt and tapped an empty spot. “I think I’ll put you right here.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. If you screamed, would anyone hear? Would anyone do anything or would he just kill you faster? Was he telling the truth about Roman? Your thoughts were muddling together as you saw your life flash before your eyes.

Roman had to get to you. He ran to your apartment and found it empty, signs of a struggle. He picked up the bouquet in his hands, crushing it in anger. His mind went to overload as he thought of where Zsasz would have taken you. It wouldn’t have been somewhere of significance to him. That wasn’t how Zsasz operated. He would’ve taken you somewhere important to you. That only left the shop and the garden. He had a 50/50 shot of showing up at the right location before it was too late.

The knife was sharp against your skin. It dug in slightly and it stung. You tried to breathe through the pain. You wouldn’t give Zsasz the satisfaction of begging.

“Fiesty til the end,” Zsasz smirked. “It’s a shame, really. You would’ve been good had you been more inclined to crime.”

A twig snapped nearby and Zsasz stopped. His eyes searched the surrounding area for the source of the noise. You took a calming breath hoping that it was help and not just some small animal that lived in the park. That was when you saw him. You locked eyes with the black mass in the shadows. He held his fingers up to his lips and you blinked in acknowledgement. You’d heard legends of the caped crusader in your city, but you’d never expected to meet him, much less need him. Yet, here he was, hovering in the distance and waiting to strike. When Zsasz faced away from him, he sprang forth and tackled him to the ground with a punch.

“Shit,” Zsasz exhaled. “The bitch isn’t worth this.”

He picked himself up and ran, leaving you with the infamous Batman.

“Are you okay?” he asked you.

“I’ve been kidnapped by my boyfriend’s bodyguard, tied up in the garden of my own design, and I almost had my face cut off. Everything’s coming up roses,” you replied sardonically.

He let out a huff of a laugh as he undid your bindings. “Glad to see you have a sense of humor still.”

Still? Did you know this man?

“What were you doing out here anyway?” you asked, rubbing at your wrists.

“Sometimes I like to stop and smell the flowers,” he said with a small cryptic smile.

You heard footsteps approaching rapidly and Roman calling out your name.

“Keep up the good work. This garden will be the talk of the town when you’re done,” he replied before disappearing into the night.

Roman burst through the gate and you felt that fake sense of confidence you’d been relying on dissolve. You ran into his arms and sobbed as he held you tight.

“Oh, baby. Baby, it’s okay,” he murmured, kissing your hair over and over again. “You’re okay. I’m never going to let anything happen to you again.”

He looked over your shoulder as you buried yourself in his chest for comfort.

“Darling, where is Zsasz?” he asked darkly.

“He ran off when Batman came,” you explained.

Roman grimaced. The bat had rescued you? Lovely, just lovely. Now he owed him, and Roman Sionis did not like to owe anyone.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he murmured. He scooped you up in his arms and carried you back to the loft.

When you got there, he cleaned you up and put you in a pair of pajamas. You sipped a cup of tea on his couch as he watched the street below in silence. He slowly ripped off his gloves.

“I’m going to kill him,” he remarked.

“Roman, you can’t do that,” you murmured, placing your cup on the table.

“He tried to kill you, darling. I can’t stand for that!”

“Roman, you’re not a killer.”

He turned to you, a quiet rage behind his eyes that scared you as he stalked over. “Oh, but darling I am.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “No, my Roman would never.”

He looked down at the floor at your words and sighed. “You’re right. YourRoman would never, but before you, I was. I… I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me and see me for the monster that I am.”

Gently, you took his hand and pulled him to the couch with you. You cupped his cheek and stroked your thumb across it. “You’re not a monster. You’re just a man.”

“Darling, I need to be honest with you. I know it will be hard to hear, but after tonight I can’t let this go further without you knowing the kind of man you’ve chosen to love,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’d rather tell you the truth and lose you instead of lying and having you ripped from me.”

You chewed your lip and nodded, preparing to listen to whatever he said.

He told you everything. He told you about Black Mask, the club, the people he used to enjoy associating with, the things he used to enjoy doing, the things he did to get to where he was now, and he told you about how he didn’t want any of it anymore. He told you how he wanted to be better, to do better, because of you, to be worthy of someone like you. He was sobbing by the end of it, exhausted from pulling himself up out of that ditch inch by horrible inch until he could see the light and your hand reaching out for him. Zsasz had been half right, and so had you. In that pit, Roman wasa Prince of Darkness, but as he stepped into the light, it glinted off of his armor showing you your knight, your protector, that your love had saved. You pulled him into you and hugged him tight. The things he said had scared you, but you knew he had changed. You just needed to help him detach from his old life and start fresh.

“May I see it?” you asked softly.

“See what?” he asked in confusion, swiping the tears from his face.

“Your mask,” you murmured.

He swallowed and nodded, going to retrieve it and bring it back for you.

It was heavy in your hands. Heavier than you expected.

“Do you trust me?” you asked softly.

“With my life,” he smiled.

You fetched a lighter from his desk, setting the mask aflame. Then, you dropped the lighted mask in the sink, watching it burn.

He came up behind you, watching the ash gather in the sink.

You turned and offered him your hand. “Rise from the ashes.”

He took your hand and kissed it.

#roman x reader #roman sionis x reader #A Garden in Gotham

[seeds-and-sins]

The Seeds accepting you, a young kid, into their family would be like...

• To the surprise of others, cult members and sinners alike, your acceptance into the family happened the moment you met them.

• Your drunk father was being the abusive piece of shit he was at one of Joseph's Sermons and Jacob Seed intervened without hesitation.

• Within weeks John Seed found a way to legally remove you from your father's custody and assign the family as your permanent guardians.

• John pulled some strings even further and your father was sent to prison for child abuse. Needless to say, you won't see him for a while.

• The Seed siblings, at first, had a hard time figuring out who you would live with.

• So you had a room at each of their abodes, free to live with any one of them, whenever you so chose.

• John would spoil you with an endless array of gifts and excessive affectionate hugs and forehead kisses. He would take you flying in his plane whenever you stayed over at his ranch. He even let you fly it one time, but don't tell Joseph.

• Family dinners every friday night were your favorite.

• John would make the meal and it would suck, but nobody wanted to hurt his feelings, so he never would know.

• Jacob would secretly pass his food down to his wolf sitting under the table, motioning for you to be quiet about it with a wink.

• Family conversations sometimes turning into bickering...

• "Unicorns are real! Okay?! The Bible says so!"

• Joseph and you had a garden together that the both of you would work on when you were at his compound. He would read scripture to you, teach you lessons about the world, and talk to you about the collapse.

• Jacob was more about tough love. He had high expectations of you in terms of being efficient when it came to protecting yourself, surviving in the wilderness, and acknowledging your surroundings. (But every now and again, he would allow you to sleep in his arms if you had a nightmare about your abuse, or were afraid).

• Faith, you went to when you had emotional issues, or questions, or when you wanted female company. You both would have sleepovers and she would give you all the sweets you could imagine.

• Family photos where they all are extra and try to get single photos with you. (There might be a fight over who is the favorite parent, but Jacob doesn't call himself parent as much he does guardian).

• Joseph has one really cute photo of John, Jacob and you, that he hides in his journal. It was the day you got officially baptized and as Jacob was trying to help you out of the river, John and you yanked him in.

• You started playing basketball at your highschool, now that your father was gone you had more confidence to explore your interests. And the Seeds were more than enthusiastic about you being more active and social.

• At home games, they would be the ones cheering for you in the stands, the loudest spectators, even Jacob would participate in the madness (mainly to threaten the referee for calling fouls on you).

• Jacob and John worked with you often to make sure that you were the best player on the team. Jacob more so, would force you to train as much as possible.

• The coach let Jacob take over practice one time, since he usually watched on the sidelines. No one made it to the end of pratice, except for you.

• One of your fellow team mates going, "I hope your dad never runs practice ever again."

• Jacob yelling, "Cull the herd!", aggressively, anytime you got the ball.

• Joseph pulling you aside at half time and explaining, "My child, remember when I said violence wasn't the answer? Yes, well, this might be the one time where I am wrong."

• John bragging about you to the opposing team's parents, "Oh look! There they go again! Out running all of your children and scoring on them."

• Your sophmore year you almost failed math, you had good grades in your other classes, but the teacher wouldn't budge. It was your worst subject.

• At away games, it was almost like the whole cult was there to cheer you on. They would take two massive buses of members who would come see you play.

• Your math teacher never called for a parent-teacher conference ever again. Your grade became a C shortly after that meeting.

• John calling your math teacher and saying, "It would be a shame if (insert random blackmail information) became public."

• You being the best in PE class, with none of the kids being able to catch up, because Jacob Seed trained you every early morning. You were a force to be reckoned with.

• When you started dating, the whole family was very protective of you.

• Jacob and John were more direct when it came to threatening your boyfriend/girlfriend about being good to you.

• "If you try anything, I will carve the sin from your flesh myself. No one will be able to save you, and when I am done with you, well..." John's words fading into a deep chuckle, with that leering smile on his expression.

• Jacob crossed arms, stern posture, "Hmm, I hope you know where you belong, you pathetic weak little-" He stopped at Joseph's glare, "Especially where your hands belong, or else you'll lose'em."

• Your first ex ended up finding snakes in their pillow case before they went to bed one night. Jacob swore 'he had nothing to do with it' and John couldn't stop smiling.

• Faith and Joseph were sweet and kind, but their words had a warning lurking beneath them.

• "My child, you are so full of life. I would be very disappointed should something happen that would require that life to be slowly taken from you. I will pray for you." And Joseph traced a cross onto their forehead, which they couldn't have know that that meant they were marked.

• "It's so nice to know that they think you deserve them." Faith placing a hand on her chest, mockingly being kind to your date. "They are so giving and genuine aren't they? Let's hope they are right... for your sake."

• Your boyfriend/girlfriend had to ask permission before taking you to the local drive in.

• Jacob and John stopping you before you leave, "Don't forget that one neck breaking move that I showed you" and "Do you have that knife that I gave you last Christmas".

• When they give you the talk, Jacob was completely absent from the conversation, John wouldn't stop nervously pacing, and Faith and Joseph were mainly doing the talking.

• Jacob piping in at the end, to Joseph's aggravation, "Just make sure you wrap it up, kid."

• "Only when married can two partners share eachother in such an intimate and loving embrace," Joseph explains.

• Jacob admitting, "Ya'know kid, I actually don't mind having you around, and I don't like having anybody around."

• Joseph always saying, "After I lost my daughter, I never thought the Lord would gift me with another child, and then... and then we found you."

• Take your kid to work day, where John takes you to one of the Project's many court hearings at the Missoula courthouse.

• "My daughter/son would be a better lawyer than you ever could be and they haven't even become a lawyer yet."

• All the other cult members practically babysitting you, or watching your back while the Seeds did the Lord's work.

• Jacob giving you your very own Judge, that follows you around the Veteran's Center and elsewhere when he is busy.

• John Seed tried to cook for you one time and it came out horrible, so you both just started get pre-made meals in the mail.

• Prom night at the Hope County Highschool was a night to remember because John, Joseph, Jacob, and Faith all chaperoned.

• When no one wanted to dance with you in fear of your four parents, the Seeds each had one dance with you.

• John, Faith, and you pranked Jacob into beating up your PE teacher, with a disapproving Joseph on the sidelines.

• You all ended up back at the ranch anyways, for a family dinner.

• When you graduated high school, John Seed revealed his secret stash of wine to you, "You are old enough in my book."

• You having trouble figuring out what you want to do in life.

• "Whatever you do, whether its here with us, or not, we will support you."

• Jacob swelling with pride when you join the Army (but secretly afraid because he doesn't want you to go through what he went through), John nearly crying when you explain you want to become a JAG, and be a lawyer like him.

• John calling you to talk about the family and complain, Jacob rarely calling or accepting your phone calls (he doesn't like phones so much, but you know he cares), Joseph and you communicate through letters, and Faith always FaceTimes or Skypes you.

• When the first seal is broken, the Family urges you to return home to help prepare for the collapse.

• Even as you rushed to get back, there was not enough time.

• You don't make it back before the collapse and end up stuck in someone else's bunker, an individual that you soon come to be friends with.

• Joseph gives you a frantic welcome, crying and holding you in his vice grasp. He explains what happened, how Jacob, John and Faith were killed.

• When the seven years ends, you head straight to Hope County, your bunk mate and you head your separate ways. You look for your family with all of the energy you have, and you find them. There is only one left.

• And then you cry and feel guilty, because you blame yourself for not getting back in time. But Joseph talks you out of that guilt and explains to you that what we do now will be in their honor.

• Ethan being slightly jealous when Joseph shows you more love and affection than him.

• Joseph and you talk about them often.

• And he introduces you to the man you would call your brother, Ethan.

• Together, the three of you try to build what your family had always wanted.

• Joseph stating with so much appreciation and gratefulness in his voice, "You came back safe to me, you came back home. I am proud of you, and John, Jacob, and Faith would be so proud of you too."

• And you never once realized that the Judge was, in fact, the murderer of your beloved parents.

• At least you had Joseph and Ethan...

• Since the day Jacob punched your dad across the jaw in the church, "I know what it's like. No one will ever touch you like that ever again", he promised.

• The day that John stood in a court room and fought for you, "You are one of us now, and we Seeds protect eachother."

• The day that Joseph wrapped a blanket around you, "I knew you would come to us, to be part of our family."

• And the day that Faith held you in her loving embrace, "Everything happens for a reason, my little flower."

• That was the day you became a Seed.

#jacob seed #john seed #joseph seed #faith seed #farcry 5 #far cry deputy #reader #growing up #guardianship #taking care #the Seeds basically raise you #abusive relationship with biological father #Jacob saves you #sad ending