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hwangism143 · 1 month

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𓆩♡𓆪 how skz would propose to you. 𓆩♡𓆪

BANG CHAN

he would invite you over (or sneak, i should say) to the studio for a date cuz you both do this all the time

sometimes, he plays you snippets of songs he's working on, other times, you're just talking the night away while getting some work done

anyways, today he's playing you one of his songs

you're just completely immersed in the music and when it ends the lingering feeling of wanting more is left behind

how could it not? the song was about spending an eternity with you

you're about to turn around and profess your love for chan for the millionth time when you see him

he's on one knee and lets out a choked, "i meant everything in that song. i didn't know what love was before i met you, but you have shown me love and so much more. marry me?"

ofc you say yes (i mean, i would) and just end up falling asleep on his couch

LEE MINHO

you guys go to your favorite cat cafe, and bring the kids (cats?) along with you too

suddenly, soonie comes along with a note stuck to her back - "will you be our parent? i mean, for real?"

you look at minho who's playing with the cats on the other side of the room, confused, but he doesn't see you

(actually, he's blushing like crazy and is too scared to make eye contact lmao)

that is until you walk over to him and give him a nudge

he's beaming at you (this boy istg) and gets down on one knee

"we can't let our kids be a part of a dysfunctional family. they another parent, and they love having you around. actually, no, they love you. and they wanna grow old with you. so. will you, uhm, marry me? their father?"

(pls im giggling at this myself)

SEO CHANGBIN

you guys are out on a date at a fancy restaurant and changbin's acting extra giggly

now mind you, this is seo changbin. extra giggly is far more than what you would imagine

you're finally done eating and slump against your chair when the server brings another plate of food

you look at changbin with a "bro. i'm full." but the bro in question is just looking at you.

you look down at the tray placed in front of you.

"will you marry me?" it says with a ring in the middle?

"be my permanent gym partner?" asks changbin hopefully

and you say yes (bcuz who in their right mind wouldn't ???)

HWANG HYUNJIN

we all know how extra this man is, so when he insists that you two go to the bookshop where you first met, you don't protest

you're scanning the bookshelf, reminiscing about how you both bonded over monet and jane austen at this very shop

then you here a little gasp in front of you

naturally, your first instinct is to turn around and check on hyunjin

and he is down on one knee, a sobbing mess (but still cute, y'know)

"you have, and always will be my muse," he says, "so will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of being your husband?"

he slides the ring onto your finger and pulls you into a hug and you're both crying and laughing and

(i'm sorry this is so cute, goodbye)

HAN JISUNG

you had made up your mind - is jisung wasn't going to propose to you, you would propose to him

(get it, queen or king or gender non-identifying reader!)

and so you're on your rooftop building when he goes "i need to tell you something" and funnily enough, so do you

(i wonder what that's about... hehehe)

after a series of 'you first', 'no you'. jisung admits defeat and slides you over the ring box

wordlessly, you slide over your box

the two of you just start laughing because, idiots in love

and then you squish jisung and start peppering him with kisses

LEE FELIX

it's a beach date!

absolutely perfect, all complete with bokkie's brownies

but felix is acting kinda nervous.

(and by nervous i mean his face is beet red and he's stuttering like crazy)

(what can you say, my boy is in love)

you're eating the last brownie when he says "close you eyes"

you do and you hear some shuffling.

you open your eyes to a sniffling felix propped up on one knee. "can I be your personal brownie chef for the rest of forever?"

who can say no to an offer like that?

KIM SEUNGMIN

you both were coming home from one of your numerous dates

it was the perfect night to be walking outside, but seungmin seemed really shifty

he was NOT enjoying himself

"are you cheating on me?" you ask jokingly

"far from it actually," he retorts, suddenly letting go of your hand.

you turn to find him in the middle of the street with a ring in his hand

"marry me. will you? please? i've had this ring with me for months and i didn't know when to propose but now i know, well like i always knew-"

you promptly shut him up with a kiss and a breathless yes

YANG JEONGIN

nothing was going according to plan for innie. you spent too much time picking an ice cream flavor and he knew that he was spending too much time at this clothing store

but they just got a new collection

and so he waits until you both are done so that he can take you to that really drmamtic fountain in front of the mall and propose to you

but watching you pick out your clothes, he realizes he wants to do this for the rest of forever

so this man promptly plops down on one knee in the middle of a department store and screams, "WILL YOU MARRY ME AND BE MY SHOPPING BUDDY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE? WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you just look at him confused holding up a t-shirt, "UH OKAY I'LL MARRY YOU AND WE CAN BE EACH OTHERS PROBLEMS"

you both are so loud that you nearly get kicked

(later he makes you buy him ice cream because he's a baby who's done a good job and deserves a reward)

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 6.

Summary: Felix learns about what happened between you and Oliver at the club, and some jackass makes assumptions about you and Felix and your intentions towards Oliver. The interaction gets you worked up enough that you feel the need to repay Felix as when he'd defended you. With sex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; AFAB!reader, d/s dynamics, felix being a chatty brat, assume the reader is on birth control, unprotected sex.

A/N: 4782 words. cannot go two chapters without having a felix/reader moment it seems. bare with me i swear we get more oliver as it goes on, but he's just watching through the blinds right now and collecting information. also forgive me, not only is this unedited, it's also the first actual, explicit smut scene i've written in years, and even longer since i've been intimate with someone with a dick. i also dont read smut so this might be weird pacing wise at the end. honestly the smut is just a backdrop for character development. have at ye, and please lemme know what you think!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Summer creeps in almost insidiously, days getting longer and warmer, humidity forcing it's way into every single facet of your lives. Afternoons outside of classes are spent doing not much of anything, hoping that when night falls, the temperature will fall with it.

This afternoon is the coolest you've had in several weeks, laying on Felix's floor, listening to him play the guitar while Oliver was draped over the foot of his bed, gazing at Felix's bookshelf. There's a sweet breeze through the open window and you hum along to the tune you recognise your best friend playing, letting yourself soak in the moment.

The quiet spell breaks as Oliver moves, reaches out for something on Felix's bookshelf.

"That's cute," he muses, "baby Felix." It must be the photo of Felix and his childhood dog, the you'd only met once or twice as a kid before he'd passed, before you'd been properly friends. But Oliver puts the photo back almost as fast as he'd picked it up, "there aren't any pictures of me as a kid," he muses.

"You and Y/N have that in common," Felix says idly, surprising both you and Oliver, though for different reasons; you hadn't even realised he'd remembered that about you. Your vapid, jet-setting, philanthropist parents had always been incredibly image conscious, and a child was never part of that image. Born out of obligation to their own parents to produce a grandchild to make eventual inheritance easier, they longed to distance themselves from the very idea of you unless they desperately needed to.

And they hadn't for as long as you've been alive.

"If there were baby photos of me, that'd prove that my parents had a child," you laughed, but there was no real humour in it, "and none of us wants that."

The invisible heir.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Oliver says faintly, an unfamiliar, unreadable look in his eyes as he gazes over at you. You give a blithe shrug.

"It means I got to find a home in Felix," you say easily, the wording sappy enough to make Felix himself laugh.

"You're such a sap, that's so much nicer than what I was going to say."

"Go on then, out with it," you prompted him, despite his faint, playful protest.

"I was going to call you another ward of the Saltburn Estate," Felix grins at you, "for better or worse."

"At least you had a family who loved you," Oliver turns away again, pressing his cheek to the duvet as his gaze focused back on the photo of Felix and his dog, "even if they weren't yours." There's a distinct discomfort in the air now, a reminder of how vastly Oliver's life differs from your own.

"I was lucky in a lot of ways," is all you can think to say. Felix starts playing guitar again.

These long days turn into long nights, parties, girls and boys and everyone in between, hazy chats and drinking games and hands on you - holding you, dancing with you, brushing past, tapping with excitement, always hands on you. The quiet way Oliver goes through these strange situations may be read as awkward to everyone else, but you're no longer under any such illusions.

"You're desperate to feel needed."

There was no hesitation in his voice the other night, his hands on you, his mouth on you.

"Then need me, want me."

How easily he'd made you flustered in the club, you didn't realise he had it in him. Honestly if you hadn't experienced it yourself, you wouldn't believe it if someone else had told you. There's been a change, however, a subtle, unnoticeable one to anyone looking in from the outside. Every so often, on nights out, you'll catch him watching you with that same hungry look in his eyes, but will never act on it, however much you wish he would.

"I do, but not like this, not now."

What the fuck was he playing at? You never knew how to bring it up, even when you were alone together. But he never stopped reached out for you, he never shied away from your touch. Apart from this one thing, it was the exact same as before.

If only that one thing didn't have the potential to change everything.

"Has Ollie seemed any different to you lately?" You go to the only person you know you can trust with this. Felix frowns at his hand of cards for a long moment before looking back up at you.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Ollie," you go a little slower, rearranging your own hand of cards, "does he seem... I don't know, different to you?" Then, as Felix was considering, "got any fives?"

"Go fish." You should both be studying for an upcoming exam.

"What do you mean? Has anyone said anything to you?" Felix momentarily put down his cards to relight his cigarette, fixing you with an intense gaze, "did something happen?"

"Did someone say something to you?" You pivot for the moment, still looking at your cards.

"Annabel."

"Annabel?"

"About her birthday thing."

"Are you taking your turn or what?"

"Oh, right," he's still frowning, picking up his cards with his free hand, "threes?" You swear as you hand over two threes, as he quietly cheers.

"Anyways, what about Annabel's birthday thing? Does she has a problem with Ollie?" At your question, Felix ums and ahs, and avoids eye contact, "yes then?"

"No-one else in the group is a huge fan of him," he even sounds guilty admitting it out loud, "everyone else can kind of feel how out of place he is and it makes things awkward. I know we think he's lovely," Felix tried to quickly placate you, or perhaps his own conscience, "but the man's got zero chat." This does, however, make you snort.

"Ollie's got chat," you smirk down at your cards, only realising what you'd said when you're met with a shocked silence. Looking up, Felix is staring at you with utter surprise.

"Does he now?" He sounds downright scandalised. You can feel yourself growing flustered, both under Felix's delighted, intrigued gaze, and at your own memories from the club, "so something did happen?"

"Nothing happened!"

"Something definitely happened!"

"I didn't fuck him."

"Between nothing and fucking there's a whole lot of somethings that could have happened," card game completely forgotten, Felix is enraptured as you begin to briefly explain the interaction at the club -

"- and well then, he starts calling me out while aggressively making out with me," you take a deep, final breath, finally looking Felix in the eyes, "and I desperately wanted to fuck him because of it." You sigh, and give Felix plenty of time to process the story and recover.

"But you didn't?" Finally, he speaks, and you groaned, throwing your head back to look at the stars.

"No," you sulked, "he disappeared into the crowd and I had to get myself off twice before I could sleep that night. Fucking tease," but you're heart's not really mad at Oliver.

"Always fascinated to learn what turns you on," Felix is desperately trying to hold in his laughter. It's not working, "many of them baffle me."

"That's not the point here, Fi," you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the gravel roof finally, laying back. You hear the pebbles shifting, and moments later Felix joins you, hands behind his head, "I don't know how to talk about it with him," you say softly. Then, tone much lighter, "and it doesn't surprise me that Annabel thinks he has no chat, he just doesn't want to fuck her, and she can't fathom a world where anyone doesn't want her."

Felix laughs, but unfortunately isn't able to offer any real advice to you about your Oliver situation.

Oliver Quick was an anomaly in your life, you should maybe have suspected his friendship to bring on further anomalous occurrences.

"Leave Oliver Quick alone," like the voice in the library that greets you harshly whilst you're hunting down a textbook. Spinning to see who it is, you lay eyes on a blonde man in dreadfully practical clothes; he's glaring at you like you've done him some personal offense.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says sharply, gaze as unwavering as his tone, "you vapid -" he stops himself for a moment, face turning red with anger, "pricks," he settles on, "leave Oliver Quick alone, for his sake."

"Is this a joke?"

"Oh I'm not one for jokes, especially not with the likes of you; I know how you and Mister Catton operate. Selfish," he hissed.

"Do I know you?" Its genuine confusion, and for a moment the man's expression turned annoyed, his righteous indignation turning to faint disappointment as you refused to take him and his request seriously.

"Michael," like it should mean something to you, "Michael Gavey;" still nothing, "I was in the year below you at high school for four years."

"Well, Michael," you start slowly, bordering on condescending, "Ollie's a big boy -"

"I know you; you'll get bored, you two always do," Michael cuts you off with a sneer, some of that anger from just earlier returning, "he deserves more than to be a footnote in your frivolous little lives."

"Fuck off, Mikey." You say it as a warning.

"Michael," he corrects through gritted teeth, "Felix is a slag, which makes you the sensible one, so I thought you'd actually listen -" but the realisation hits you, right as you start to see red.

"You've already tried talking to Ollie," immediately, your tone ices over, humourless, cruel little smile twisting the edges of your lips. Noticing your change in demeanour, the fight seems to drain out of Michael before your very eyes, "and he ignored you, didn't he?" You asked, already knowing the answer from the way he was trying to stammer through an answer.

"Now, Michael," you tell him with a poisonous smile, taking even, measured steps towards him, as you turn his name over on your tongue with as much malice as you can manage, "Michael Gavey, I think I do know you," you're playing with your food, drawing out his discomfort with every slow word; you weren't cruel by nature, not unless someone found which button to press, "first year," you drop your voice low as you get into his space. He starts to shrink backwards, but you're practically on his toes until you're crowding him against the bookshelf, "math genius, shouts in the dining hall -"

"I didn't- just once-"

"If you ever," there's a furious look in your eyes behind your sinister smile as you stand toe-to-toe with Michael, "and I mean fucking ever, breathe the word slag in Felix's direction, or any other insult for that matter," you wet your lips, "I promise the only job you will ever get for the rest of your life will be that of a high school English tutor," you pet his cheek condescendingly, "for students with dyscalculia."

Michael actually shudders.

"You know I can do it too, don't you?" You press, and he nods, looking both furious and ashamed where he can't look you in the eyes, "we went to high school together, Mikey, I know where you came from, I can dictate where you will go." Stepping back, you clear your throat. Nodding to him, you turn on your heel to head further into the library, to continue searching for your book.

Trying to move past it doesn't work, it still irks you, you still can't stop thinking about his weaselly little face, the bitter sneer he wore, and the cruelty with which he spoke about you and Felix. It haunts you. The audacity.

Textbook in hand, you immediately head for the patch of greenery and trees near Oliver's dorm, where you know Felix and the rest of your friends will all be spending their afternoon.

"Ooh~ Y/N coming in hot," Farleigh called, spotting the metaphorical cloud of thunder above you before anyone else.

"What are you doing now?" Ignoring everyone else, you only have eyes for Felix. He grins up at you from where he was using Farleigh's thigh as a pillow.

"I assume whatever it is you're about to ask of me," he says blithely, while the others watch the interaction with amusement.

"I need to rant," was all you said, and Felix held out his hand for you to help him up.

"You're so sexy when you're angry," he says teasingly for the whole group to hear, "has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm not kidding," you scowl, and his grin widens.

"I know, that's the best part, I could listen to you yell for hours, I usually never get to hear it." The banter continues on the way back to your dorm. The others know it's probably a cover, though none of them, apart from Farleigh of course, know the truth. Most assume you're moments from a breakdown and would like to have your best friend there for support.

The minute you're back in your room, you slam the door shut and toss the textbook to the side. Felix asks you what's wrong, tone still light, and you can feel that protective anger flaring up in you.

Slag.

"If you don't hold me back I might start getting into scraps," you tells him with seriousness, stalking up to him with intent, planting an almost bruising kiss on his lips as you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. It's not often that you're the one getting riled up; Felix is more than enthusiastic.

"Don't fight on my behalf," he laughs, frantically pulling off his sweater. Pausing for a moment to help him with the pullover, the minute it's off and tossed to the side, you're unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as best your able, as he's trying to tug your shirt off in the chaos. The two of you are moving to the bed, and he actually gasps when the back of his legs hit, when you take a beat to raise your eyebrows at him, silently asking permission.

He's already letting himself fall back with a wicked, delighted grin as your hand finds his bare chest.

Then he's breathless, with you braced over him, gazing down at him with a furious determination that you don't usually allow yourself to build up. Felix looks up at you with pure extasy in his eyes, like you hang the stars in the sky. His hands on your ass, his grip is firm and secure, but he doesn't move; he's letting you lead.

"Felix Catton, I ruin lives for you," you practically snarl; a breathy laugh escapes him, caught up in the moment, in the mood that's been building within you, "doesn't feel like enough sometimes -"

"You're so fucking hot," he groans like he can't even help himself, can't hold himself back, can't help but close the gap to your lips, kissing you with that same intensity you're giving him.

"If I hear-" you punctuate your words with rough kisses, "another word-" biting at his lips, "against you, I'm -" fumbling with his belt, "I'm gonna start cutting people -"

"Yeah?" Felix prompts breathlessly with a sharp grin, not even waiting to get your fly all the way down before his hand is in your pants, fingers at an awkward angle in your jeans but still finding your clit. It's like you're feeling everything tenfold with the earlier outrage still burning in your veins -

Vapid pricks. The likes of you. Slag. Watching Felix's hands on the girl in the club. The venom in his voice and fury in his eyes when he'd pinned Farleigh to the wall to defend you - Our Felix; Oliver's voice like honey in your ears, tempting that jealous creature in your chest that you'd gone for years ignoring -

"My Felix," you'd purred as your hand found his cock. For a moment, his breath came out as a stutter, eyes going wide as they meets yours. He looks almost incredulous, then, after a moment, hungry, wanting. It's captivating; he's captivating, like he's desperate to devour every part of this moment and you in it, barely holding himself back.

"One more time for me?" He requests, voice low and pleased, before he changes tactics, indicating for both of you to actually take off your pants.

"Everyone's fucking wrong about you," you tell him, kicking your jeans to the side, watching for a moment as he shimmies with his jeans, looking like he's made of ninety percent limbs. Still, your intensity holds.

"Even the people that like me?" Felix laughs, finally getting himself free of the jeans. Before he can remove his boxers, however, you're on him once more, thumbs hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly as you speak.

"Everyone else has these versions of you in their head," you begin to plant kisses along his inner thigh as you work your way up, looking up at him through your lashes, "where you're either an angel who can do no wrong," Felix is already hard when you begin to slowly work your hand up and down the shaft of his cock, "or the absolute devil who's a scourge on the female population," your lip curls for a moment, a derisive kind of amusement at their imagined expense.

"I can't look at you right now," he half chokes out, head falling back against your duvet, "fuck," he gasps. It's enough to bring you back to the moment, and you apologise -

"No, fuck, don't stop anything; the ranting, the -" he gestures to where your movements had slowed briefly, "any of it, I just literally," he laughs a little awkwardly, almost a little self-deprecatingly, "will not last more than a minute if I look at you right now."

Oh.

Oh! This is good!

"What's so different," he prompts through shaky breathes - you can't quite believe how much he's effected by you in this moment, how enthusiastically, how desperately he responds to your dominant intensity - "about the version of me in your head?"

After a beat, you climb off of him, already reaching for your drawer.

"Everything okay?" He asks, eyes opening as he tilts his head to look at you. Pulling out a tube of lube, you focus on opening it up, rather than Felix himself. You should be using protection, you know you should be using protection, but you want to feel all of him, only him.

"I can't talk with my mouth full," you told him, still maintaining that steely intensity, "so we're skipping foreplay." Felix, immediately understanding where you were going with all this, looks back up at the ceiling with a wide smile.

"Fine by me; right now I'm inclined to say that you can do whatever you want forever, honestly - cold!" He announced with shock, jerking up a little as you glided a generous amount of lubricant over his cock. There's a faint look of betray in his eyes, but you just gave him a thin, mean smile.

"Felix, stop talking."

The commanding tone is enough to get him back on board, groaning, arching into your touch as you once again were working his shaft, now so slick your hand glided easily up and down the impressive length.

"My Felix," voice once again low, you use some of the excess lubricant on yourself. Since leaving the library, however, your anger had known it's outlet; just the idea of fucking Felix in a righteous fury had gotten you going, and you were already wet, wanting, desperate for him.

"Don't make me beg," he all but whimpered as you finally straddled his thighs, "fuck, I'll do it for you, but -"

"Shut. Up. Felix." You leaned down, chest pressed to his lips inches from his, whispering, "I won't make you beg," as you sink down onto his cock, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

"I am under no illusions about you, Felix," you begin to murmur, hips rolling at a deep, consistent rhythm, "I don't have a version of you in my head, I just have you; I just want you, as you are."

Pace picking up, you sit, rake your nails lightly down his chest, watch as he pants and groans beneath you. When he holds your hips, your thighs, you can feels his nails digging in, burying himself deep inside of you with each rhythmic thrust. There's something primal and triumphant roaring in your chest, pushing you to sink your nails into him, your teeth -

"I don't care who you fuck," you tell him through gritted teeth, picking up your pace, thighs burning.

"You're a fucking liar," tumbles from Felix's lips as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"I don't, I'd be a hypocrite -" very suddenly, Felix sits up, and you go still with him still inside of you, adjusting to the change, wrapping your legs around him.

"Then you're a hypocrite," he smirks, gaze hazy, heady, euphoric in this moment, "and a liar," and he wraps his arms around you as he kisses you, pulling you back with him as he lays back down on the bed.

"I'm not jealous," you start again, softer this time, but still aiming for stern.

"I'll say I believe you," there's mischief in Felix's eyes as his hand snakes between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles against your clit as you pick your rhythm back up again, slower this time.

"Fi," for the first time all afternoon, your voice softens, and you let your stern demeanour break, instead looking over him, glowing with sweat and endorphins, in your bed, in you, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, "I don't care if nobody knows it's me, but -" you wet your lips, wicked little smile on your lips, "I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Something about your words, your request, perhaps your tone, sets him off again; you rake your nails lightly down his chest again and he arches up, swearing, almost breathless.

"Yes, fuck, yes," comes out alongside a breathless moan, "my Y/N, anything you want - please."

You paint him blue and purple and the deepest, prettiest red with hickeys, leaving him looking absolutely scandalous. Of course he returns the favour in the form of scratch marks up your back and his teeth almost drawing blood from your shoulder. When he comes it's with your mouth on his neck and his cock deep inside of you, holding you close, holding you steady, whispering incoherent praise into your ear. Always diligent, he doesn't move, doesn't pull out or away from you before his focus is on you, making sure you get off, delighting in watching you unravel on top of him.

In the afterglow, amid the sharing of a cigarette and catching of your breath, you apologise softly.

"What are you apologising for?" He immediately cracks a grin, "in fact, any time you ever start to get all worked up and mean like that, have me on speed dial -"

"I - no, Fi," you sighed, amused at his suggestion, though it was fading fast, "I just... try not to be jealous," there's faint notes of guilt now that you've come down from the adrenaline and endorphins of it all. Sitting against the headboard, you draw your knees up to your chest.

"I know," Felix says easily, sitting up beside you, resting his head against your shoulder, his hand on your knee, "I try too... I don't think I'm always that great at hiding it." Then, after a moment, his tone lightens, "I think this is why I don't want to tell people about us, I don't think I could begin to explain it in a way that makes sense." It gets you to laugh, leaning into him, tension and guilt easing.

"I thought it was the rush of sneaking around and lying to people."

"There's that too," he agreed with a chuckle. The two of you fall into easy silence as he takes a drag on the cigarette and hands it over. The afternoon is sticky-hot, especially in your room, curtains still half open but window shut. As you go to open it, not caring about potential onlookers in the twilight, past the sliver of your curtain, Felix speaks up.

"There's no version of me in your head? Not even a little bit rose-coloured-glasses tinted?" He grins at you, and you lay out on the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. After a moment of simply taking the moment in, you shake your head with a soft smile.

"I told you, I'm under no illusions about you, Fi."

"I think you're too good to me for that to be true."

"I want you as you are, dude," you shrug, as if it's the easiest truth in the world.

"As I am?" He wants to be sceptical but his tone and the look in his eyes betrays him. You've never heard him quite so soft you think, eyes wide and glassy and full of conflict and love; everyone wants him, everyone loves him, everyone wants to be him or be with him, he's reckoned with his reality a long time ago, even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Felix's life had been picked apart by everyone around him at the surface level for as long as he could remember, perhaps he'd thought that no-one would ever care to look deeper. Perhaps he'd gotten so used to it that he'd forgotten there was anything deeper.

"I want the Felix who can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months, and who's cheated on every single one of them with me," you start, wearing a grin despite his sudden frown, "I want the Felix who hugs and kisses strangers after just meeting them because he's bursting at the seams with affection, I want the Felix who won't admit that he sleeps better with someone next to him at night, and the Felix who recaps the books he's been reading to me like they're gossip. The Felix who uses people, and breaks hearts, who says he doesn't know he's doing it but I know you do," you laugh, sitting up on your knees and letting the blankets slide down your back as Felix looks up at you now with a fond kind of reverence, "I want the Felix that lights up every room he's in without even trying, who makes everyone around him feel like they're the only person in the world, and that same Felix who still shifts over, mid conversation with someone else, for me to sit down beside him without having to even ask, because you know we'll always come back to each other," you lean down, lips inches from his, burning intensity in your gaze as you take in the reverence in his eyes, "the Fi who fights for me, the Fi who loves that I'd ruin lives for him, my Felix -" You see the moment he can no longer hold himself back, arcing forward, moving from the headboard to be by you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. For a long moment it's your mouth fitting perfectly against his, faint, desperate groan being pulled from the back of his throat as he takes your face in his hands, firm, warm, wanting, deepening the kiss.

"Some of those things were pretty shit," he laughed a little self consciously after the kiss breaks, both of you breathing heavy. In his eyes you can see the barest hint of conflict.

"People have said worse."

"And you got them expelled," he reminded with a faint smile, but again there's that conflict, "and they aren't you."

"You're my best mate," you laugh easily, "that shit, the good and the less good, makes you my Felix. Be pretty shit of me to want to chop and change who you are, you know?"

For a very long moment, you watch the way he slowly begins to smile, to take all your saying in drinking in this sun-drenched moment. Reaching out, he carefully touches your cheek.

"Say it again then," he prompts, sounding almost giddy, feather-light touches as if mapping your delicate features in this moment. For a brief second you're confused, barely angling your head to indicate as such before you can see his faint blush beneath his golden skin, creeping up his cheeks. When he laughs, almost self conscious, you realise, and grin back.

"You're a sap."

"Don't make me beg."

"My Felix."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #oliver quick x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #head heart hand fic #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x y/n #manic writer

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meluiloth · 24 days

Text

For @silmarillionepistolary day 7, Remembrance and New Beginnings! Artwork at the bottom.

Night has fallen. The lamps have been turned low, the house cleaned, the bedtime routine completed; all Maglor and Maedhros have left to do is tuck the twins and read them their customary story.

They look so small wrapped in the red wool blankets, like two little birds in a crimson nest. They are quiet, too, waiting patiently for Maglor to ask his routine question: “Now, what story would you like tonight? Or would you rather hear a song?”

“I want the one about the Sun and the Moon!” Elros pipes up, scrunching the blanket in his hands eagerly.

Maglor smiles. “Is that what you want as well, Elrond?”

Elrond, the quieter twin, looks bashfully down before murmuring, “I’d like to see the picture book…”

Maglor shares a confused look with Maedhros. They did not own any picture books. “What do you mean?” Maedhros asks.

Elrond tips his head. “The one in your study,” he says. “It’s got gold string around it and lots of pictures on every page.”

Maedhros frowns. “You know you are forbidden from entering my study,” he reproaches.

Elrond bites his lip. “Yes, I know … I just saw the pictures and thought they were pretty.”

Maglor sees the telltale signs of a lecture in Maedhros’s expression, so he swiftly says, “Perhaps we can excuse it this once, if you promise to ask before you touch our things.”

Both Elrond and Elros nod emphatically, and Maglor leaves the room to search for the ‘picture book’ in his brother’s study, which is packed with volumes, scrolls, and papers. Maglor thinks it will take him forever to find the book Elrond described, if it exists at all, but surprisingly he easily locates it in the first bookshelf: a worn book of red leather, tied with a fading gold ribbon. It is familiar to him, but he cannot recollect why until he brings it back into the twins’ room. Maedhros’s eyes widen when he sees it. “Grandfather’s sketchbook? I thought that was lost ages ago!”

“It was in a box in the back,” Elrond supplies.

Maglor looks down at it, a stab of nostalgia and old grief passing through him. “I thought we never even brought it,” he murmurs.

“Can we read it?” Elros asks, leaning forward curiously.

Maedhros frowns, his reluctance clear. There are many memories neither of them want to relive, the life and death of their grandfather among the most heartbreaking. But many of the memories Finwë recorded in his beloved sketchbook were his happiest, from both his life and the rest of his family’s. And the two young children looking up at Maglor are also Finwë’s family … and he wants to share something of his life that is not just the blood on his hands.

The spine of the book cracks softly as he opens it, and the yellowed paper releases a small puff of dust, but the artwork on the inside is still as lovely and life-filled as the day he penned them.

Maglor explains each piece as he showed it to the twins, and lets them look as long as they like. Even Maedhros sometimes asks him to wait a little longer on certain pages, the heavy, dark look in his eyes brightening when he remembers his childhood in Valinor.

It is well past midnight by the time they reach the last pages, and all of them are surprised to see that they are all in full color, when all the previous pages have been only graphite sketches.

“Who are they?” Elros breathes, tracing his finger delicately over the meticulously painted faces.

Maglor swallows, his throat and his eyes clogged with tears. His brother, too, is at a loss for words.

“It’s them,” Elrond says, looking up at the Fëanorians and then back down at thd drawings. “Maglor and Maedhros are right there … but Maedhros looks different …”

It was true. Maglor and Maedhros, along with all of their brothers - still alive and smiling radiantly - and their parents. On the other pages, their cousins and uncles and aunts, before any of them had suffered the horrors of Morgoth.

“That is us,” Maedhros murmurs. “That was us then. We were so happy..."

“What was it like … then?” Elros ventures.

Maglor smiles. “I will tell you.”

“Tomorrow night,” Maedhros interrupts. “It is very late, and if you are to understand a word we say, you must be well-rested.”

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siryouarebeingmocked · 2 months

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Carter and Lovecraft, by Jonathan L. Howard (2015)

I really wanted to like this book.

I've read a few Lovecraft novels and stories, and I liked them. So when I saw this on my friend's bookshelf, I borrowed it, and read it.

Tried to.

The first real fly in the ointment? NYPD protag sees his partner take a 9mm retirement in front of him on a creepy case, and becomes a private detective. Mysterious lawyer shows up at his office one day and says there was a bookstore owner in Providence, Rhode Island, who has been missing and just declared dead.

The protag gets the bookshop. He's not sure why.

Protag goes to the bookshop. Owner's niece, Emily, is there. She's been running the shop alone since the owner vanished, and she co-ran it when he was alive. Also, she's biracial. Would be played by Zoe Kravitz in the movie, he thinks.

Her name is Lovecraft.

As in, she's a descendant of ol' Howard Philips.

She notes the irony; a black-ish "mulatto" descendant of an anti-black racist.

"Okay," I think, as I checked the publication date. "You've gotten that token bit out of the way. Now, can we move on?"

Apparently not.

As protag starts looking into the disappearance and other weird stuff, he decides he needs to get his eye in. So he goes to a gun range, where he needs to sign up for the NRA first

and ends the session by "re-engaging the safety" on his Glock.

Fun fact: stock Glocks don't have manual safeties, AFAIK.

In the next chapter, protag thinks about how he used the gun. He hates the NRA and the whole "gun fetish" thing, but he needs the iron, just in case.

Two strikes. Three if you count the safety thing.

Yes, I know an NYPD cop might be a bit bigoted about the issue, especially considering how his partner died. But it really feels like the writer's opinion.

In fact, let me just-

Yep. The writer is British. This sounds awfully familiar.

It was about this time that I realized something. The protagonist has no traits that aren't directly related to being a cop or detective. Absolutely none.

I don't think we know what he does in his off hours. No friends. Nothing but the job.

Heck, Miss Lovecraft has more personality than him, and she takes up a lot less screen time.

Protag decides to give Lovecraft half the business, so he can become a silent partner. People start dying in physically impossible ways - like the dude who drowned in his dry car in a parking lot - our hero looks into it.

He also ends up learning about a local family, the Waites. Rich, keep to themselves on their own land, been around since before the area was officially settled, apparently.

The local who tells him about all this says the younger ones are oddly attractive. The family has distinctive big eyes.

Anyone remotely familiar with HP Lovecraft just went "Oh, right, they're fishmen. Got it." I've seen this trope done better before, like in the comic Shadowgirls.

Hero looks into the archives, finds records of a racist Town Council rant by an early Waite, back when they were still into trading. Including slaves. Specifically, patriarch Newton Waite went to a council meeting and said black people should serve others, and shouldn't have self-determination.

The archivist intern says it's was "a different time", and that's just how people were back then.

Of course, he adds "People who talk like that now - no pass for them."

End scene.

Like this extremely mainstream, boring opinion is some kind of

In the next scene, protag chats about the fit he had near the Waite place. Learns about another mysterious death. When he chats about it with Emily, he suddenly realizes she's hot.

Then the narration tells us that he was a racist bigot in his teens, though he thought he was being sensible at the time. He now knows he was wrong, but he still feels sparks of it when he reads about some black kid doing some stereotypically black thing, which gives certain white people "a hard-on of righteousness".

And, of course, his time spent walking away from "instinctive racism" means his dating pool opened up. Like Emily Lovecraft, for example.

The most stereotypically black thing would probably be crime. Or being a single mom or deadbeat dad.

Sadly, I know of plenty of black people - from my black majority home country - who fall into one of those categories. Or two. Three if you include "poverty", but we're Developing, so that barely even counts.

Also, this basically came out of nowhere. Not Emily being hot - I mean, look at Zoe Kravitz - but his unsolicited thoughts on racism.

All of these issues have also been issues for many concerned black people. For decades. The 'stereotypically black things' might be bad themselves, not because they make racist white people feel smug.

This is precisely where I closed the book for good. I would've put away the bookmarks, but I needed the page so I could write this rant.

Honestly, writing all this made me realize that I should've given up long before I made it halfway through the book. But I just kept hoping it would get better.

Doing the same well-worn cliches in a modern setting doesn't really make them interesting. Neither do the little 'racism is bad, mmmkay?' bits.

#books #personal #lovecraft #long

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twitterpated-passion · 6 months

Text

How to Date a Ghost | Monster Boyfriend(China Cabinet pt 2)

Dating a ghost wasn’t something you saw yourself doing with your life, but then again, you didn’t see yourself doing half of the things you were and well…it’s not like you were complaining.

Arax was a fine boyfriend, he was just a little old fashioned and a little grumpy at times, but you never blamed him. If you were stuck in an unused cabinet after never talking to a person in over a hundred years, you’d be grumpy too. So you understood that he needed time during those moments. That and a blanket and tv time to watch whatever trash tv he wanted at that time.

But given that it was a year into your relationship with him, you picked up on a few things that apparently happen when you date a ghost as someone who’s still alive.

✄-----------------

You were sitting in what would’ve been your dining room, if you hadn’t turned it into a nook now that you were able to afford the bookshelves to put all your books in the room. It was early enough in the morning that Arax wasn’t awake yet, or he just wasn’t showing himself to you at that moment. It didn’t take long for you to realize, even before you two were ‘official’ that despite being dead, Arax actually took the time to sleep now that you knew he existed. He told you it was to pass the time in the beginning, but you noticed after a bit that he would gradually get tired whenever it was around the time he usually slept, like his body was just on a clock.

But as you were tucked in the chair you put in the corner of the room, book in your hands, you felt someone touch your hair on the top of the chair, then the lingering feeling of cold lips on your cheek. Your eyes glanced up from the words on the pages, but you didn’t see anything and you rolled your eyes, a smile spreading on your lips. “C’mon A’, show yourself.”

He did as was told, appearing in the bookshelf closest to you on your right, but he was floating, looking at the books on the top shelf. “You didn’t take long to call me out.”

“You didn’t take long to start messing with me,” you responded. Arax shrugged and went down before his feet touched the rug on the hardwood floor. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess…it was just spending time in a dark void, if I’m being honest. I’m guessing you didn’t get any sleep, since you’re up at-” he moved to the kitchen, looking at the clock on the microwave “-Jesus Christ, it’s seven in the morning, you need to go to bed.”

“For the record, I did go to sleep, you’re just an old man and go to bed earlier than I do. And I’m not tired, so I’m getting some reading done.” He hummed, going back in the room before finding his seat on the floor in front of your chair, head finding its spot between your calves. “You alright?”

He nodded, for a beat, but you noticed his eyes training on the ground, so you nudged him with your foot. “Hey- what’s up? Talk to me, sweet thing.”

“It’s nothing, I promise, I’ve just been thinking about things.”

“What sort of things?” you asked. “You do know you can tell me anything right? Like no matter how dumb it may be.”

“I know,” he sighed. “It’s just- We can’t do things. Like what people do in shows or in movies. I can’t even court you correctly, for god’s sake. It just makes me feel like you’re better off with someone less like me and more…alive.”

You didn’t respond for a bit, shutting your book and setting it on the table beside your chair, leaning down to run your fingers through his hair and then grasp one of his hands with your free one. “You get that if I wanted something like that, I wouldn’t have stuck around for a year, right? We’ve been together for a long time, I don’t need dates out in public or for me to be ‘courted’. I’m happy staying at home. Movie dates are more my style anyway.”

“And what if you want something more? LIke a wedding or a family?”

“It’s the twenty-first century babes, I don’t need it to be happy. I’m fine living without spending money on a wedding or not having a kid. Even though adoption exists.”

“The other parent is a ghost, hun,” he said, looking up at you and squeezing your hand.

“Weirder people are parents. You’re fine,” you reassured, even though you did think it’d pose a thought about how to explain why one parent is never showing up to events or anything dealing with the kid because he’s dead and attached to a cabinet and can’t leave the house. You shook your head. “Look, baby steps, we’ll be fine.”

“...If you say so,” he breathed out, lifting your intertwined hands to kiss at the back of it, squeezing it again. “I wouldn’t hate you if you realized you needed someone else though.”

“Never gonna happen,” you said. “I’m quite fine not meeting new people in a romantic setting and staying with you for the rest of eternity.”

“But-”

“No,” you cut him off, moving your hand from his hair to his chin, tilting his head back so he can look up at you. “No buts, no arguing, nothing. ‘Kay?”

He took a moment, but he nodded. “...Fine.”

“Good.” You nudged him to the side so you could stand and stretch. And in the corner of your eye, you watched him stand back up, his light footsteps faintly padding on the floor before his arms wrapped around your waist and he rested his chin on your body, the coolness of his body sending a shudder down your spine, but you were used to it, so it didn’t bother you as much as it did in the beginning of your adventures with him. “‘M gonna make myself some food, you can turn on the tv and play whatever you want.”

“Could we listen to an audiobook this time?” Arax asked, and when you turned to face him, you saw his eyes all big and surprisingly glossy for a ghost, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout that he seemed to have perfected in the past year. He had quickly taken a liking to audiobooks when you introduced them to him, and he usually played one while reading the same book at the same time, and when you asked why he was doing it when you saw it happen for the first time, he answered that it made him focus on what he was reading better. You just shrugged it off and ever since you would either turn the audiobook on for him, which meant buying a cd copy half the time so he could listen to it on your old discman or you read him the book, which did in fact made for some good quality time when he was able to get himself to stay still and silently read along with you. When he wasn’t in the mood to sit still and needed to walk around the room in laps, he fortunately did make you tea most of the time to help your throat.

You nodded at his question, placing your hands on his before moving him from you and motioning towards the living room with a small kiss. “Go for it, babes.”

A little smile appeared on his face before he kissed your cheek and walked towards the living room, audibly plopping himself on the couch as he got whatever his pick of the day pulled up. You were relieved to see that he was happy now, given his earlier admissions, and with a small, quiet sigh, you walked in the kitchen and started making yourself some food, pulling out a plate, then your toaster before tossing in two slices of bread and pushing it down. As you were pulling out the butter and jam you had in the fridge, you heard a guy’s voice in the living room suddenly. You set the two things on the counter and shut the fridge with a light shove, walking out into the living room to see the Dracula book cover on your tv.

You glanced over at Arax, noticing that he was already under a quilted blanket on your couch, looking like he was as comfortable as could be. “Comfy?”

He nodded with a hum. “Yea. What’re you making for breakfast?”

“I’m making toast for myself,” you answered, the beginning of the audiobook becoming mere background noise as you walked over to him, sat on the edge of the couch and brushed your fingers against his cold skin. “You’re getting good at using all of this.”

“I have an amazing partner that lets me explore their electronics,” he responded happily, lifting himself up to plant a kiss on your jaw, causing your cheeks to heat up despite the cold touch. “If the technology people have now started back when I was alive, things would’ve gotten done so much faster…not to mention that you wouldn’t have to wait to get something if you could just order it online.”

He sighed, looking almost for longing. “You survived your time, you can now reap the benefits of the technology now that you’re in the afterlife.”

You saw him shoot you a look, and you knew you pushed a little bit with the ‘surviving your time’ bit, so you tried to backtrack. “Look, just be happy you died young. Now you’re forever in your late twenties. That means something, right?”

“I guess,” he said, moving his hand to touch yours. “I have to watch you grow old though…and it doesn’t make me feel good thinking about it.”

“Think I’m gonna get all wrinkly when I’m old? That you’re gonna be dating an old person when we’re both ghosts?” He shook his head.

“I’m more afraid that I’m gonna have to watch you forget me or something like that…and it’s not gonna feel nice watching it when you finally…pass.” Arax grew quiet but he squeezed your hand, obviously to keep himself from spirling in the thought process. “We still have time now though, right?”

You nodded. “Mhm. And even when I do kick the bucket, I doubt that I won’t remember you when I’m a ghost. Maybe whoever’s in charge of this dump’ll let me get old but make me a hot ghost. I think I’ve earned that right already.”

Your heart lurched when you heard him laugh and he nodded. But you heard the toaster pop before the conversation was able to continue. So you stood and got your breakfast finished, walking back in and sitting at his feet this time, letting him put his ankles and feet on your lap.

You two didn’t say much else for the rest of the morning, merely listening to the audiobook as you took comfort in each other on the small couch. It wasn’t a morning that usually happened nowadays, so you weren’t trying to waste it by doing anything that could be thrown aside until later.

✄-----------------

It’s been a week since you reassured Arax about his worries, and while it didn’t completely get rid of them, that was obvious with the way he clung to you whenever he seemed to get into a mood, or a rom com trailer turned on in the middle of a video you two turned on for background noise and he’d get upset because he can’t drag you out to the yard or a park to picnic with you. You’ve been pretty good at distracting him though.

Which is why you both were laying in the comfort of your bed, dramatic heaving coming from your ghostly boyfriend as you tried to catch your breath, reaching over to tug on a shirt, then a pair of sweats, but you didn’t get out of bed, only covered so you could warm up a bit before you went back to cuddling Arax. You felt his eyes on you, only for them to avert quickly when you looked over at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answered, but sat up and moved closer to you. “You’re always so…pretty after we do…this.”

“You’re allowed to say the word,” you snorted, but he waved it away, planting a kiss on your neck.

“Don’t feel like it,” he said simply, laying back down and tugging you against him, tucking his head against the crook of your neck, lazily placing his lips on your skin and keeping them there as he relaxed and shut his eyes.

“I’m gonna have to go to work one time or another today,” you told him quietly, hearing him groan against you.

“Why do you never respect the post-glow?” Arax asked, glancing up at you with hooded eyes. “Do it later…”

You chuckled, shaking your head, but you relented, letting him have his time, your limbs tangling together as you traced your fingers up and down his back, your head leaning against his. “You’re bein’ really clingy recently, not that I’m complaining…but, you sure you’re alright, Arax?”

He took a moment, but nodded, slipping his arms around you and holding you tightly. “I’m fine, I’m just in my own head at the moment.”

“You wanna talk about it,” you asked him calmly, continuing dragging your warm hand up and down his skin, placing kisses on the side of his head. He shook his head and you nodded back at him. “That’s alright…if you want to later, I’ll be here to listen.”

“I know,” he mumbled, sighing against your skin. But after a pregnant pause, you heard him speak in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him talk in, “I just wish I was born in the same era you were…”

Your eyebrows raised. “...Yea? Why’s that?”

“...Because maybe we would’ve met…been like this and I’m not constantly freezing you…or so I can actually have a dream when I sleep. I like floating…I like being able to disappear…being a ghost is fine, but I hate not being alive…” he trailed off and went silent, burying his face back in the crook of your neck before you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him flush against your body.

“I’m not going to tell you what your feeling is invalid…because it’s not. But honestly, I like you as a ghost…and yea, wouldn’t it have been nice if we could’ve met and had a world wind romance? Yea, ‘course it would, but if you were born around the time I was, we might’ve not met. And just knowing that no matter what could’ve happened…I met you because I bought this house…I think that’s nice.” You moved one of your hands, running it through his hair. “I’m not going to forget about you when I get old…and I’m not going to move on randomly with the notion that I want someone willing. ‘M with you, and I’m happy to be with you. Ghost or not. Besides, I couldn’t care less if you freeze me, it makes up for it during the summer and when I’m sick.”

You heard a muffled huffed chuckle, but he didn’t move, and you kissed the side of his head again. “Why don’t I take the day off and we just spend the rest of the day in bed? Just the two of us?”

You got him to look at you again, and you saw his lips quirk up with a soft smile as he nodded. “I think I’d like that…” You smiled down at him, nodding. “Good.”

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

Part One

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sophie1973 · 1 month

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you so much to my beloved @stellarm and @onthewaytosomewhere for the tags

Since I posted a big chapter for Bloodstream yesterday (here) I took a break for 24 hrs and focused on my other (small town/lake house) WIP

Story : Henry is a hotelier in London, but his life has become unbearable, so he flees to Texas, where he inherited a house from his aunt (yes I gave Arthur Fox a sister).

I promise I'm working on a better summary. Also, this is a first draft.

The view of the lake is stunning.

Henry puts his messenger bag on the kitchen counter, taking in the inside of the house. There is a spacious cottage-style kitchen with all the modern appliances. A couple of steps lead to a cozy living room with a stonewall fireplace and comfortable couches. There’s a gigantic bookshelf filled to the brim with books, and he smiles for the first time in weeks.

He knows his aunt Marjorie shared the same taste in books as he does, so it’s good to know he’s covered for a while, mainly since most of his own, aside from a few favorites, remained in England.

And he’s not going back for a long, long while.

He needed to get his suitcase out of the rental car, but his priority was to get David out after the one-hour-and-a-half drive from Austin so he could do his business—directly on the car's tire, no less- and get into the house.

This house left to him by his aunt, who probably saved his life by doing so.

He can still hear Pez’s voice in his head (“Just go, Hazza. Fuck that Wicked Witch of the West. I’ll miss you, but I prefer you alive.) and Bea softly smiling at him because she knows. She understands.

That same smile looks at him from the picture on the kitchen counter, a teenage Bea with her arm around him, always the protective big sister. He stares at his own face, a young boy with a big smile, and wonders how it all went so wrong.

Next to that picture is another one of Marjorie and Arthur. They are in their mid-twenties, looking young and beautiful. She never followed in her brother’s footsteps, choosing a quiet life away from the media, but unlike him, she had the chance to grow old and live a fulfilling life.

His father remains eternally young, his face and smile frozen in time in family pictures and film pellicles.

A sudden wave of grief grips Henry’s chest, making him stumble, and he sits down on the steps, trying to catch his breath. He hasn’t had one in a while, probably because he was too busy packing his stuff and leaving everything behind.

His job, which he loves, but he can’t bear the toxic environment created by his grandmother anymore.

His family, even though he will only truly miss Bea. They have promised each other to keep in touch several times a week despite the time difference, and she will come to see him soon.

London, where he lived all his life.

So here he is, 5000 miles from home in Small Town, Texas (otherwise known as Horseshoe Bay), where he doesn’t know anyone and has no idea what the Bloody Hell he will do with his life.

It is terrifying. Part of him knows he should find it exhilarating, but he is having trouble connecting with his optimistic self right now.

He doesn’t even know where to start.

Henry feels a wet nudge at his arm. He looks down, sees David looking at him with his big puppy eyes, and laughs through tears he hadn’t realized were falling. The beagle puts its paw on his arm and tries to lick his face, and he pulls the dog against him, pressing a kiss and nuzzling his nose in its soft fur.

“We’ll be alright, my darling. We’ll be alright.”.

No pressure tag, and sorry if you already did it and I missed it : @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @piratefalls@anincompletelist@itsmaybitheway @tintagel-or-cockleshells@orchidscript@happiness-of-the-pursuit@pridepages

#red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #Henry the Burnt out Hotelier #Alex the Charming Veterinarian #rwrb fic #Sophie1973

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wellthebardsdead · 1 year

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Ancarno: Lord Varla? Is that you?!

Marigold: *in the arcanum looking for books on the elder scrolls* Oh fuck me no- god why?

Taliesin: *out of sight on the other side of the bookshelf with Kai & Cary* what is it?

Marigold: my ex- *turns his head* Ancano? What are you doing here?

Ancano: I’m here on assignment *quickly walks to him pulling him into a hug* thank the gods you’re alive-

Marigold: *realising he thinks he was killed or kidnapped when his parents were murdered* I? Of course I’m alive. I left home to further my arcane research. I thought you would have known? Father promised to inform you our courtship would be put on hold until I returned.

Ancano: *visibly looking distraught thinking he doesn’t know about his parents* Fleur, you need to sit down…

Marigold: *rolls his eyes but winks at tal through the gap as a signal for them to sneak out* Sit down for what? *huffs putting the book back and walking to another bookshelf* You haven’t found someone else have you?…

Ancano: *follows after him completely oblivious to team dragonborn sneaking out the doors* What? No, I already fulfilled my mating purposes that’s why your father allowed me to court you in this first place- *takes his hand* it’s about your family…

Marigold: *already mentally preparing the fake waterworks* … what… what’s happened?…

*a few hours later*

Kaidan: *pacing back and forth in the tavern* I can’t believe we just left him up there with that creep.

Taliesin: the alternative is he get caught with a dominion deserter, the dominions runaway prince, and the last known Akaviri in skyrim which I remind you he would gladly cut your head off on sight!

Inigo: They do not know he is the murderer of his parents at least…

Lucien: but now the dominion knows he’s alive and, cary… you said your father was fond of him?… to the point he saw him as a nephew or second son like figure?…

Caryalind: …Father will send to try and bring us both home-

Lucien: and if he finds out he’s the dragonborn who is aiding the empire-

Caryalind: …Were both screwed.

Marigold: *staggers in holding his hand in pain* anybody got a healing potion and is comfortable resetting broken bones?…

Kaidan: *quickly runs to him and dusts the snow off his cloak before looking at his hand* what happened? What did he do?

Marigold: We went for a walk around the grounds talking after I gave myself a headache fake crying over my parents ‘tragic’ and gruesome murders. We spoke on where our ‘relationship’ was headed and he got upset that I was choosing my magical studies over our wedding and he tried to kiss me after pinning me between him and a wall. So I broke his nose. And I think my hand too gods he has a hard head.

Kaidan: *visibly shaking with rage* how much is bail for murder in winterhold?

Marigold: more than he’s worth, let’s just hurry up and leave before he comes looking for me.

Inigo: where are we headed?

Marigold: a cave on an iceberg in the sea of ghosts.

Taliesin: no thanks I’ll just die.

#and yes ancano’s pet name for marigold is Fleur #ancano skyrim #Taliesin skyrim #Caryalind skyrim #Kaidan skyrim #Lucien skyrim #inigo skyrim #marigold dragonborn #Altmer dragonborn

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sofasoap · 1 year

Text

Four misses

Pairing : John Price x F!reader (aka OC Mini MacTavish) Summary: Four times you missed each other, and one time you gave up. Part 2 of Five Times

Warning: Mature themes. if you don’t like the idea of age gap story, turn around NOW.

Thanks to mother of my Mini MacTavish @saltofmercury for lending me the character “Mini” from her story. Go read her “The Favorite MacTavish” !

“masterlist” for Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

He promised you he will contact you. Looking down at the phone. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

After your bold admission to him in the garden a month ago, you are starting to wonder if it was the right move. You understand from your experience from Johnny, there is no certainty in anything with the military. They can get called away anytime, cutting off connections with their family for weeks, or even months. No idea if they are dead or alive, until someone shows up at your doorstep, either it’s your loved one returning to you, or someone informing you of the unfortunate sacrifice they made to their country.

Looking at the bottle of whisky you bought, sitting on the bookshelf. Maybe you just need to be a bit more patient.

Disappointment hit you again. You finally got a call from him, two months later, after the team had returned from their latest mission, apologising for not getting back to you soon enough. Promises made again, dates set. You waited at the pub. Ten minutes gone. Twenty. Thirty. An hour. Two hours. Nothing. You feel like a fool. No calls, no messages, nothing again. Quietly thanking the bartender, who is now looking at you with pity, you slipped some notes and bit extra for tip, you picked up your phone and wallet walking out the door. Ten minutes later, a flustered Price rushed into the pub, frantically trying to find you.

“You just missed her. She waited for two hours.” Unimpressed expression on bartender’s face says it all when they informed the Price’s

He was so immersed in his work, he had totally forgotten about the meet up until he heard one of the soldiers passing by talking about going on a date with their sweetheart.

Looking at his phone, which was switched off during the meeting, he had missed calls and few messages from you, asking where he was.

He tried to call you back, but you didn’t pick up. This isn’t going well at all.

Sitting in a corner, twirling the tumbler glass in your hands, you wish you hadn’t come. Soap hosted a small get together with family and few people from the base at their house. “Hey why the long face? Something happened?” Your brother pulled you into the private family sitting room, away from everyone else. “ I am sorry Price isn’t here,he has been called away for an important briefing by the higher ups.” Upon hearing Price’s name, you couldn’t hold in anymore, tears started streaming down your face. “Johnny.. I… I …” desperately wiping your face to stop the tears from falling, to no avail, “ I knew it wouldn’t work out, but I still went for it. Why? Why?” you sobbed. “I tried.. I really tried… “

Soap holding onto you tight, trying hard to suppress his anger. He should have intervened, he knew it. He knew the difficulties and obstacles, he thought Price would treat you well. But he is mistaken. You cried yourself to sleep that night, under Soap’s insistence of you staying for the night.

Maybe it is time to let go and move on.

You are about to move away from London, change your job, change your phone number and back up to Scotland, closer to your parents. Starting a new chapter of your life.

You half thought about contacting him again before moving away, but decided against it. Why drag yourself into the past and into the pain again? Hearing the boarding announcement through the PA, you pulled your coat tight against yourself, wrapped yourself nicely and tight with the thick woollen scarf your mum knitted for you around your neck and face. It’s been a very cold winter, and it’s only getting worse. Boarding the train, your shoulder accidentally bumps into the man with a thick leather jacket and black beanie. Mumbling apologies to each other as you rush into the carriage, finding your seat and settling yourself down. As the train started moving, you looked out the window, and met the eyes of the stranger you bumped into. Price. Eyes widen with surprise, it’s evident he is just caught out as you are. But it was too late. The train is already moving and pulling out of the station. You slump back into your seat.

Another missed chance. How cruel thy fate.

#captain john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price imagine #john price #captain price x reader #captain price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader #call of duty

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goldenmagnolias · 9 months

Text

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

Pairing: OC High Lord of Dusk x Archeron!Sister

Summary: Reverie Archeron has always been different. Different in a good or bad way depends on who you asked. Now a High Fae, and with another war approaching she tries to be as helpful as she can around Velaris and with her baby nephew, but at a High Lord meeting, the countless dreams she has as a child and the feelings that are not quite hers suddenly make sense and things become something that she never could have seen coming.

Warnings: I do mention some melancholic feelings that some can link to depression and I do intend on portraying that alongside with other mental health issues (not only in the MMC and FMC but on other characters). It will be a more thorough conversation in the future, and whenever they will be present I will place them in the warnings, but for now that’s all ☺️

Masterlist // ao3

CHAPTER I: BY NIGHTFALL

Velaris was beautiful.

Reverie Archeron thinks it doesn’t matter how long passes she will always find the city breathtaking. More often than she allows herself, she’s wonder what would have been like to grow up in the bustling and colorful streets. How joyful things probably would have been.

But she didn’t, thankfully Nyx will grow up roaming through the streets and the shops, with a house big enough for the whole family to have their rooms and then some spare ones. A warm fireplace on cold days alongside warm wool blankets. Food for whenever he feels hungry. And love.

Love of a mother and a father. Love from his aunts and uncles.

Feyre is giving her son the childhood they dreamed about.

Life in the mortal lands was never easy. Specially with Father acting the way he did. Most times things would be harder than usual.

Feyre would go out in the woods to hunt. And Reverie would scrub floors, and cook full meals on a empty stomach for a few measly pennies so she could buy the bare minimum to keep them alive.

If that version of her could se herself now she would probably cry.

For yes, she technically had died. She had been thrown into the cauldron and it’s water she had been taken apart and remade.

Into High Fae.

The slender and statuesque people that she didn’t fit in with, or didn’t feel like she did. She barely saw herself in the reflection when she looked at the mirror. Because the Calderon had left it’s mark on her sisters by giving them magic. In her case, it stole her coloring. Her hair became as white as snow. Like the light brown had been a watercolor her whole life and the second the water took ahold of it. It completely vanished.

And she would probably also cry over the fact she didn’t have to count money, and overwork herself, that they had a warm fireplace, a family overflowing with care and love. A bedroom all for herself, a sprawling bookshelf that tended to grow as Feyre’s inner circle and Nesta’s Valkyries gave her as presents, she had more clothes than she felt like she needed and notebooks to write as she pleased.

Still, the darkness lingered. She had nightmares, night terrors, awful ones. Melting memories and what if, and fears. The war that was approaching, Kochei’s presence lurking did little to calm her heart. Although Elain hadn’t seen anything yet, and both Nesta and Feyre still seemed calm.

So she focused on helping Feyre with Nyx, and the Priestess with some of the young kids in the city, trying to make herself useful.

“Ria?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. What did you say?” Reverie says turning to her sister with a small smile, her eyes moving away from the window

“I asked if you’d like to go to the High Lord’s meeting at Winter with the rest of us.” Feyre says.

“Oh?” Reverie can’t help the surprise in her features. “Well if that isn't be too much of a problem.”

“it’s settled then.”

Little did Reverie know that the meeting would change everything.

….

“There’s more chairs than usual.” She hears Gwyn whisper to Azriel.

The only court present so far is Night.

“Lucien,” Rhysand voice comes.

“No idea.” Lucien says from beside Elain.

It’s like a siren song, the symbol that has been on her dreams for years now. She moves slightly, eying the symbol on the chair. Second later there’s a wave of magic coming from outside the castle — she feels like she should know from who but she doesn’t.

Golden eyes lose focus slightly and she feels her knees giving out and Nesta’s arms are around her.

Everything is muffled. Her ears are ringing.

Something is wrong. Something is off.

It’s like a thousand and one emotions are running through her at the same moment. She raises a hand pressing it against her chest.

Gods, what’s wrong with her?

‘Reverie breathe, you need to breathe.’ Feyre’s voice echoed in her head and she feels her presence.

She is breathing isn’t she? Gods feels like someone is trying to break her rib cage.

“She’s shutting down.” Reverie hears Elain’s voice through the muffled noise that seems to be over her ears.

But then all the sound vanishes overtaken by another one completely.

She can hear laugher, her own laugher, feel a kiss being planted on her cheek, someone hugging her, the sound of a baby cooing, the scent of the sea, wind moving through her white curls.

She has the vague awareness of more magic entering the room but then her awareness completely slips away from her.

But something comes alive in her chest, something that seems to wrap around her heart, caress her soul, as if to say.

I’m here.

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aranarumei · 3 months

Note

was offline most of today building a bookshelf but I saw the ask game was back and if you're still feeling it can I hear about that villainess au =D

ask me about my wips | wip list

this one's almost embarrassing to answer... but I won't be embarrassed! i want to say like, back in 2020...? ish? I started running into like, a bunch of isekai webcomics where it's like... oh no! i've become the villainess??? or it's like, even if it's not an isekai it's about like, this maligned woman getting together with someone unconventional... I don't know if I can describe them well. anyways my experience with them has been "oh this is fun but i want this to be pushed harder"? by and large.

now that's my like... inspiration, in some regards, to this fic. hence the title. it is not the fic. this fic is hualian (from tgcf / heaven's official blessing)

uh and ultimately all of this rambling is unrelated because this fic is actually just. a hualian sort of like. fake-arranged marriage thing. hua cheng is basically this like... noble who's known as this cursed figure. and he and xie lian are faking an engagement for like. Reasons. my reason being that i wanted to write hualian where they have a much more tumultuous relationship but it still like Works. there's fun stuff with like mistaken identities, misunderstandings, shenanigans between the noble families, i live out my yushi huang and hua cheng friendship dreams. eventually. dunno if this makes any sense so i will just put a bit under the cut...?

When he wakes up, he can’t get the crown prince’s voice out of his head. It lingers in his thoughts like the imprint of the floor against his cheek, overshadowing the soft, golden light of the morning. He’s always woken up early, ever since he crept out of his room one night and watched in amazement as the stars glittered in the night and were overtaken by the warm expanse of the rising sun. That sense of wonder eclipsed any fears he might’ve had about being caught, and now that Hua Cheng is well into adulthood, there’s nothing stopping him.

Today, the sunrise feels dark and unappealing, a reflection of his own self-worth. He holds the weight of the mask in his hand and debates whether he should wear it. Eventually he sighs and affixes it to his face. He’s not an idiot. He knows that something has happened. There is no universe where the crown prince visits their manor and nothing happens.

If they had more servants, maybe someone would spot him perched up on the roof of the manor, but most of them have left, and the ones that are left don’t like to concern themselves with Hua Cheng’s whereabouts. Besides, some of them actually like him.

(Like would be an exaggeration. Hua Cheng has one attendant who is brave enough to withstand his presence, and even he seems vaguely uncomfortable at all times.)

Something shifts beneath him, and Hua Cheng presses down to the ground. The house is bustling in a way it hasn’t in many years, and it’s this which startles him out of his quiet contemplation. He slips back into his room, skin electrified with nerves in a way it hasn’t been in forever. Something about the house feels radically alive, like the way it had been when he was too young to be hit or sent to fend for himself. Noise seeps in through the walls, and Hua Cheng shakes a little at the enormity of it, trembling on a precipice of the most dangerous feeling there is—hope.

#kiri.txt #ask #ask game #i wonder if i'm making like any sense here lmao...#this is 13k wip so i feel like. what if im the only person who gets it #also i havent touched it in over 2 years. lol #my writing #malt-rants-and-stuff

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countrymusiclover · 6 months

Text

27 - Some Familiar Faces

Part 28

Family is More than Blood

@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

Raelyn’s pov

Hugging my knees to my chest Alyssa had left the room without another word. Leaving me to sit by myself in the room hearing all the animals and the wind blowing outside the bedroom. The bedroom door opened and I saw a guy with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes coming in. “Rae, I got the twins settled in for the night.”

“Who the hell are you?” I scooted back on the mattress as far as I possibly could not recognize the guy in the room.

The guy raised a brow at me. “Rae, it’s me Nik.”

“I don’t know you. Is Nik a nickname or something?” Shaking my head I prayed that he wasn’t going to kill me or something since I didn’t know him.

He moved forward a few steps confusion written on his face. “Raelyn, love. You know me. It's me Klaus Mikaelson, you're husband. Father of your children.” He sits down by my feet about to touch my knee until I jumped.

“Motus!” I screamed throwing a hand up and launching him across the room and into the bookshelf.

The guy grunted and I saw his eye turn gold briefly when he got up to stand. “Raelyn, what happened to you? You know who I am. I know that you know who I am.”

“No I don’t!” I raised my voice at him.

His eyes widened in shock. “ Rae, what kind of game are you trying to play?” He demanded. “ Whatever, it is I am not in the mood.”

I shook my head. “ This isn’t a game!” I exclaimed, glaring at the man. “ I don’t know who you are, but you better get out of my way now before I boil you alive.”

“Raelyn, please… I “ The Hybrid was about to say, until I cut him off.

I gazed at him deeply. “I’m not this Raelyn person you seek out, whoever she is because I’m not her.” I hissed.

“You may not remember who I am but you are still the same person I fell in love with. I know everything about you.”

I scoffed at his words. “ As if I would ever settle down with someone like you.”

He shook his head. “ You married me. You choose to be with me.”

“ You’re not even my type.” I chuckled.

He crossed the room until we were almost standing chest to chest. “ Hmm, really.” He asked, wrapping his arm around my waist pulling me to his chest. Then before I could fight him he crashed his lips down onto making me gasp sharply. As if another person was in me, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

I slowly kissed him back against my better judgment for a few minutes. Slightly enjoying the feeling of us together like this. Until I finally came to my senses and shoved him backwards. “ What are you doing to me?”

He smirked. “ I’m not doing anything, my love.” He said. “ This is what your body craves for… me.”

“Don’t try and confuse me with your words and make me think that my hormones are desiring you!”

“ Yet, you kissed me.” He said. “ If you didn't want this then why did you kiss me.”

I rolled my eyes. “ I haven’t been with anyone in a while and I probably am just feeling horny.”

“ Well, if you like I could help you out with your little situation.” He offered, with a sincere tone.

“I would never sleep with a guy I don’t know.”

“ Oh, so you would kiss a guy you don’t know.” He chuckled.

“What….I….that’s not what I was saying.”

He stared at me deeply. “ What are you trying to say, darling?” He asked. “ If you want me just say it.”

“Just stop talking.” I vamped towards the door but he moved after me, shutting the door and trapping my body in between the door and his arms on either side of my head. “If you claim you know me, tell me something that only you and I would know.”

“I took your virginity.” He declared softly.

I shook my head. “ Yeah, okay whatever you say; pervert. Show me a fraternity test”

“I can name every one of our kids, isn't that enough?” He questioned me.

Snarling in his face. “No. You could just be a really good stalker for all I know.”

He nodded. “ Don’t worry darling, I’m going to get you back to normal in no time.” He said, grabbing my face in his hand.

“ I’m sorry.” He whispered, before snapping my neck. The last thing I saw was him hovering over me before I blacked out.

Klaus’s pov

Vamping downstairs into the main living room with the large fireplace I ran my hands through my hair grabbing one of the chairs and launching it across the room. It broke in half before my phone was going off and I put it up to my ear. “Now is not a great time for a chat Elijah. Raelyn doesn’t remember who I am at all!”

“What are you talking about, brother?” He asked.

Growing under my breath. “I just said she doesn’t remember me, Elijah. As in she doesn’t even remember knowing my name or anything about us being together.”

“Well that certainly is a problem. Do you know how it happened?” Elijah asked me calmly.

Holding a hand over my forehead I raised my voice through the room. “If I knew that, don't you think I would have already returned her memory back!”

“Dad, what’s the yelling about?” Missy vamped into the room with Hope and Alina not far behind her.

“ That damn, witch scum took your mother’s memories away from her. “ I hissed. “ When I get my hands on that girl I’m going to break her spine.”

Alina made a confused face. “Which witch dad?”

“The one that put the Saltzman’s into a prison world until we got them out.”

Hope’s eyes widened in shock. “ Alyssa, but how could she get her hands on a powerful spell like that?” She asked.

“Kai did bring the white oak stake that has the Hollow’s magic over here with him.” Missy remembered.

Hope signed, hissing under her breath . “ It looks like, I’m going to have another chat with Alyssa; it seems the first chat didn’t teach her anything.” .

“ Talk “ Missy scoffed. “ I’m going to break that bitch’s face when I see her.”

“Niklaus, don’t let your children tear the girl apart. It doesn’t sound like her fault.” Elijah spoke and I realized I hadn’t hung up the phone call.

Alina spat back to her uncle. “Uncle Elijah, she or better yet the Hollow hurt our mother. How are we supposed to feel?”

“But violence can't always be the answer.” He responded to one of his nieces.

A door was burst open and the group finally saw that Alaric came around the corner in a huff. “Anybody want to explain to me why Raelyn is locked up in one of the Werewolf cellars?”

“She doesn't remember who I am at the thought moment so to keep her from running I snapped her neck and put her somewhere I knew would be hard for her to escape out of.” I responded, crossing my arms around my chest, angry.

The former vampire hunter scrunched his nose. “Oh geez Klaus. We're a school. We can’t have a riot on our hands.”

“If a werewolf can't break out of the door then how can she -” I cut myself off hearing a loud commotion downstairs in the basement. Everyone else turned their heads when we heard one of the doors get yanked open meaning she had managed to get out. “Bloody hell, Raelyn!”

Hope whipped her head around to me. “Should we tell the squad?”

“No, I'll wrangle your mother in without their help.” I said back to my eldest daughter.

Alina raised her hands, shaking her no in defense. “Wait a freaking second dad. You left us out of the fight last time and look what happened. We're coming with you.”

“Girls.” I grumbled.

Missy put her hands on her hips reminding me of her mother. “Easy way or hard way, dad. It's your choice.”

“Fine, let's go find your mother.” I agree knowing it was the better option then the alternative.

Raelyn’s pov

I vamped as far from the Salvatore school as possible not wanting to be locked up again. Running my fingers through my hair I sat down on the curb needing to think things through about this. “Who the hell does that guy think he is…”

“Never would have taken you to be the one to talk to yourself, Little siphon.” Whipping my head around I would always recognize that nickname after all these years of living separate lives.

Putting a hand over my heart I sighed with a grin. “Damon Salvatore. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Where's the hybrid that's normally on your arm?” He asked me with a half cocky smile.

Knitting my brows together. “I….uh I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Hmm I see. Well Elena is cooking dinner. Why don't you come with me and I can show you our daughter.” The former vampire offers to wear the same familiar black jacket he always wore.

Getting up off the crib I knew I remembered him so he wouldn't try to kill me. Not that he really could now that he was a weak human. “I'd love too, Damon.” We made the walk a few blocks away until we reached the porch of the old Gilbert house. Damon opened the front door and walked through without a problem whereas I tried to and smacked the invisible barrier. Holding my head he spun around seeing what had happened.

“Ah sorry about that. Can't say I miss that. You can come in, Raelyn.” He responded simply. I smiled stepping over the threshold before we heard a pair of feet running towards us in a very quick pace.

A young girl with dark raven hair that still looked like Elena but had Damon’s eyes came around to the two of us. “Daddy!” She jumped up into his arms that were already open for the girl.

“Awe she's adorable. What's her name?” I asked liking to see that he was actually happy as a human.

He hoisted her up and held her against his chest turning his attention back to me. “Raelyn, this is Stefanie. Sweetie this is my old friend Raelyn.”

“Hi Rae.” She waved to me. I waved back hearing someone else coming around from the kitchen.

Elena came around still wearing her work clothes from the hospital but she grinned seeing me until there was clearly someone behind me. “Raelyn….Stefania why don't you go play with your toys.” Damon lowered her to the wooden floor and she went to her bedroom.

“It's a little pathetic that you thought that cell would hold me, pervert.” Whipping my head around I noticed the stranger that supposedly was supposed to be my husband. He was standing outside the doorway since he had to be invited in.

“Raelyn, I'm sorry for that. But I don't intend to hurt you. Please just believe me.” He begged with that thick British accent.

Elena steps closer to me. “Wait a minute. Do you not know who it is?”

I nodded where Damon tilted his head confused. “What kind of witch is more powerful than you, little siphon?”

“It doesn’t matter. I came to have a nice dinner with them so you can go now.” I waved my hand wanting him to leave. But when i went to leave there was a whoosh sound and I saw Missy with Hope and Alina who all shared an expression of concern. “Why are you girls hanging out with him?”

Alina stepped through the threshold with Hope seeing as Missy and the supposed Klaus couldn't. “Mom, just hear him out. He is telling the truth about everything.”

“Just consider if it wasn't for him a half vampire half witch wouldn't be able to have children.” Hope put her hands down at her sides.

Stepping to the edge of the doorway I put my hands on either side of the threshold. My blue orbs meet his own that were focused down onto mine with silence falling between us. “What do you want from me, Klaus Mikaelson?’

“I want to take you on a date and maybe just show you how to fall in love again.” He gives me a puppy dog look. “Please Rae.”

“One date that's all.” I replied simply with a nervous expression on my lips. Klaus smiled down at me praying that this plan would work and he would help her get her memory back.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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x-authorship-x · 10 months

Note

Hello hello im here to ask if you or any of the other anons have squad two thoughts they're willing to share because i like,, miss them so bad man?? I've already started rereading my favorite moments from the hope au. Congrats you made me fall in love with your portrayal of them and ruined me for all other takes.

Awwwww Anon, I was gonna dig up a cute squad excerpt for you but all... Well, here 😂

(Tenzo was two beers in and his face had already begun to flush that lovely rose-pink, darkest at the apples of his cheeks and then spreading down his throat.

With his hair in a loose bun at the nape of his neck and dressed in just his black ANBU fratigues, he looked especially soft; he’d been with the Base Kids again, as he was most days without a mission to liven things up, and that often meant therapy gardening with Yamanaka Gen.

His presents this year had been the usual mixture of useful and indulgent; Shisui had bought him a glass terrarium, since Sora had said it was self-sufficient and some could form their own atmospheres.

…on the other end of the spectrum, Genma had bought Tenzo a parenting book that Tenzo didn't seem to know if he should be humiliated by or thankful for; Shisui, who was struck by the sense he’d glimpsed the spine of said book on Inoichi’s bookshelf before Ino had been born, had chosen to be mortified on Tenzo's behalf anyway.)

So, they’d had dinner, there had been a few beers, toasted Tenzo’s good health for - roughly - eighteen years alive and it had been fine!

Raidou’s birthday, a few weeks later, hadn't even been celebrated on the actual day because he’d been trapped into a gathering with his civilian family - twenty-five apparently opened the floodgates for the matchmakers - and they’d merely grabbed brunch the next day to toast him.

(“You look awful,” Shisui marvelled, too surprised to be embarrassed by his foot-in-mouth greeting.

Raidou, who looked more like he’d been dragged through TG-49 with a case of sake than survived a large dinner with extended family, shot Shisui an uncharacteristically resentful look over the rim of his coffee mug. Shisui then, in muted horror, watched Raidou dump five teaspoons of sugar into it.

“What…?”

“You don't have problems until you have aunties like I do.”

Shisui opened his mouth to comment that he was literally an Uchiha; Raidou held up a hand to stall the words before they could emerge.

"Don't."

Unwilling to kick the hornet's nest, Shisui let the declaration lie and, insead, held the small bundle he’d wrapped in some of Sora’s tissue paper out like a peace offering. Inside, he'd managed to take advantage of Mikoto's contacts to get sealing ink fit for tattooing.

“Um. Do you want your present now or…?”)

I'm really happy you love my interpretations of this lot, thank you for your lovely words!! ❤️

#torship #torship talks #ask #anon #shisui #squad two #kakashi #genma #tenzo #raidou #not #no tomorrow #udb #until dawn breaks #hope au

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maelstrom-of-emotions · 1 year

Text

Under The Same Sky

@padfootastic

Sirius after James's death—(I know, I'm sorry. They're both alive in my heart as well)—he's at the funeral and this is the speech he's giving.

In this AU, Peter was charged and arrested.

This is written in first POV; basically, Sirius talking to James’ grave. Because I need closure.

Cool? Cool. Let's begin.

────────── ⋅❉⋅ ──────────

No one walks in to be killed with a smile.

Nobody, I suppose, but you, James.

Your smile could kill people, with its beauty, James. The way your hazel eyes would light up whenever you were pleased as though they had captured the molten gold rays of the sun.

Your smile was beautiful. It was a work of art, truly. The eighth wonder of the world. A wonder that the world, and I were permitted to see. A wonder that shall never be seen again.

Your smile will forever live in the letters you've written, and the photos I've taken, but they will never live on you now, will they?

You died with a smile, literally. When I walked into the room, you had a smile of utmost peace. What were you thinking about in your last moments James?

I wish I could ask, just like the old times. Just like yesterday, before you were murdered.

I can still ask.

But, this time, Jamie, you can't answer.

To me, our friendship was magic, James, pure and simple. To a child who has spent his life repenting for the actions of those beyond the grave, it had been a new way of looking at the world.

They say that the world’s most beautiful piece of magic is the very first Hogwarts Letter.

I disagree.

Those crimson-written, perfectly bow-tied letters that you'll never write again were different.

A stern woman with a tight smile did not write them instead, they were written by a boy whose soul seemed to be a gentle blend of light and dark. One so young and old, of harmony and discord, and somehow home to a spirit so young.

I wish I could have run my hand through your hair one last time once more you. Wish I could've smiled at you one last time. I wish I could have told you that I loved you before you...died.

Before you smiled your last smile.

Before you took your last breath.

Before you left us, left me.

Before, before. Isn't it amusing, Jamie, that whenever we look back, we see time frozen and still? We capture it in little words and phrases: before, back then, back in my days, those days, remember the times— as if the only way to let a moment stay is to label and distill it. Capsulize, crystallize, and classify it all. And it stays there all organized on the timeline in preciseness. Like a bookshelf.

Like your bookshelf.

I remember the first time I saw your family tree. I remember being stunned by the fact that it was a real tree, a tree that bloomed fruits.

The gold fruits were for those in your family who are among us, who live, breathe, and laugh because they're Potters'. And that's what Potters' do. That's what we do.

Or what we used to do.

I remember the tsunami of sorrow that had crashed into you, into me, into us, the day we found out that your parents died. We both felt disbelief when we found that their fruits had turned silver.

You touched the crystal apple and cherry with such tenderness that day as if you were afraid that one small touch would break it. I was afraid that you would break.

I'm afraid to go see the tree, because I know I'll see that silver mango hanging from that tree. And I'm afraid that when I do, I'll snap. Because that would mean, that you're really gone James, and I just can't accept that.

'Denial is not a good look on you, Padfoot,' that's what you would say if you were here. But, that's the problem, isn't it? You're not here when you're supposed to be.

Because you're dead.

You were my blue crayon, the one I never had enough of, the one I use to color my sky.

The one that's not in my crayon box anymore.

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random-chaotic-bitch · 7 months

Text

Siren's Song - Chapter 1

Alisha Kade had always wanted to be like her father Jackson.

It was always obvious she was close to her father. They had Nerd Nights every Friday, where they would binge their favorite old movies and eat popcorn. Jackson Kade taught his daughter to ride a bike when she was five, and later he taught her how to skateboard when she was ten. When she was eight, he taught her to play cards and chess.

Alisha taught her dad some things too. She taught him how to understand the complex conversations she had with her friends. She taught him how to organize things. She taught him how to raise a daughter right.

There were also things they learned and did together, like how to build a bookshelf or dresser. They learned how to beat Ryara (Jackson's wife/Alisha's mom), at Monopoly. They learned how to paint a bedroom wall together and play pretend.

Alisha and her dad were always close. Until the day they weren't.

She tried to tell herself it started out as a normal day. She had gotten up and ready for school. She talked with her parents during breakfast. She had the same normal breakfast as every day, Rice Krispies with some cut-up strawberries and a glass of orange juice. But really, it wasn't a normal day.

Alisha could recall the exact moment her life turned upside down. She was sitting in Algebra 2, listening to her teacher ramble on about the joys of inequalities while praying for the clock to tick faster toward lunchtime. Her phone went off in the phone pouch by the door. It had to be hers, as she was renowned for NOT putting her phone on silent mode.

Hushed giggles met her ears as her face flushed red. "I'm so sorry, can I just check it? I don't usually get messages during school, so..."

Her algebra teacher nodded and she rose from her seat, quickly retrieving her phone. It was her mother calling. "Mom? What's going on?"

Her mother sobbed. "Alisha, honey... Dad, he... he's dead."

The girl froze. Dead? But he was fine this morning!

Her mom continued. "There was an accident while he was driving to a client's house. The men in the other car were under the influence."

Alisha could barely register her mom's words as she fell to the floor. "No," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please, no. Please, let this be some cruel joke. Please," she begged.

What happened next was a blur, but the only thing she could remember clearly after that was falling into her mother's arms, the both of them sobbing.

The accident, I remember quite well—such a shame. The two men in the other car died as well that day. Those two, plus Jackson Kade and a poor pedestrian caught in the middle made four deaths. Four souls, moving on to the next life. You'll see the number four is important to this story, better keep that in mind.

But Alisha. Back to Alisha, her mother, and now-dead father.

The funeral was lovely. Alisha and her mother maintained composure, surprisingly well. Family and friends gave condolences. A lot of good it did, at least in the grieving fifteen-year-old's eyes. "I'm sorry"s couldn't bring back her dad. Nor could the "It's going to be okay"s or the more uncommon, "Hold tight to the memories you made,". No simple words, no matter how well intended, could bring back Jackson Kade.

Alisha reflected on that hell of a week two years later. The now seventeen-year-old sat in a park inside Ninjago City, under the shade of a tall tree. With her long blonde curls, honey-brown eyes, and dark blue work shirt, she looked just like her dad. Except she was alive, and he wasn't.

She got up, frustrated. Someone cleared their throat behind her, and she whirled around to see a strange-looking old man standing by the tree, with his head bowed. "Can I help you?"

He looked up at her, and young, angry eyes met wise, calm ones. The old man grinned. "Perhaps it is I who should ask you that question. Why are you so frustrated?"

Alisha sighed. This is going to go one of two ways. "I lost someone, two years ago. My mom... our relationship went from strained to downright broken. About a year and a half ago, I had enough. I left home and came here. My mother disowned me, and I have nothing left there to go back to."

The old man raised his eyebrows. "But?"

She groaned. "But, I still feel so conflicted! After a year and a half, can't I just be allowed to exist without guilt and grief from leaving?"

The old man nodded. "I see."

Alisha rubbed her forehead exhaustedly. "What about you? Why are you here? And why are you specifically looking for me?"

He grinned. "I guess you could say I have an eye for special talent. And I know a siren when I see one."

Alisha's jaw dropped. "You- but- how-" she sputtered, completely baffled. "No one here knows of my past, hell, I forget half the time!"

The old man chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. There was no doubt in Alisha's mind, this guy knew exactly what he was doing. He composed himself, looking up again at Alisha. "Well, sirena joven, how would you like to keep doing what you feel you're best at?"

The siren smiled upon hearing the language of her General and nodded. "You've got me intrigued. But I'm curious, why would you need a seventeen-year-old, ex-siren/force user on your side? More specifically, why do you want me to get involved?"

The old man nodded seriously. "Valid questions. An individual of your talent and skills, and your moral compass, would be willing to aid in the ever-lasting fight between good and evil, light and dark. I don't wish for anyone to have to get involved, but I have seen there is no other choice. At least I can choose the ones who are ready and willing to fight."

Alisha nodded. "I'll join your little ragtag team. How many others?"

The old man shook his head. "Patience. All good things come to those who wait."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. What do I call you then, friend?"

The old man grinned. "My name is Wu. To you, however, I am Sensei Wu."

Alisha smiled. "Well then, Sensei. My name is Alisha Kade."

#Siren's Song #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #I know none of it makes any sense but I promise it will 😅#also #i doubt you'll get it yet

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