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tripleglitchwriting · 5 months

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Ignition (Part 3)

Gn human reader, Ratchet-centric

We are slowly clawing our way out of the angst, folks.

CW: Miscommunication, mild language, getting burned by water graphically, referring to a person as “it” (unintentionally), injury, anxiety thoughts about awful things happening, a little fearplay

You recounted the last couple hours in your head. Most, if not all of your memories were either fuzzy or painful, and right now you weren’t making many good ones. You’d ended up shrouded in darkness longer than you’d really expected, though to be fair you expected to be dead by now. At some point the giant opened up its hand for a second and grabbed some sort of metal tool before putting it somewhere you couldn’t see, then immediately shut you off from the world again and walked off. At that point you’d been hoping it was just a really vivid nightmare, the world having been dark for so long. Too bad nothing good ever happens to you.

Deeper into the forest you went- you assumed it was still the forest from the sounds of trees being snapped like twigs- and thoughts of horrible things that could happen next latched onto your conscious mind. Getting torn apart limb from limb, getting chopped up, ending up crushed, being played with like a toy, getting eaten? Though, if it wanted to this thing could have done it already… so why was it taking you so far away?

Unfortunately, you got your answer. The next time it removed the hand blocking out the light you were greeted with the sight of a creek. It was quaint and nice, you would have loved to sit there for a while if you weren’t being kidnapped by a giant robot with unknown intentions. It set you down on the forest floor, not noticing your grimace as your leg hit the ground in an awkward way, sending waves of pain up your body. Really, the thing seemed to be ignoring you. For now, at least, as it started doing something near the creek. It knew you couldn’t get away so it just… left you there. Oh how you wished you could prove it wrong.

A sour feeling wormed its way into your gut. You pushed it down in favor of something sweeter. Up above were the extravagant, warm colors of the autumn leaves. It was always a nice season, at least where you were geographically. Now the sun was just dipping down past the horizon, saying it’s goodbye by taking the colors of day with it. You spent a bit watching it, reminiscing on days you couldn’t quite remember and nights spent stargazing rather than sleeping. Unfortunately while you daydreamed something crucial happened, or what you assumed was crucial, because the titian seemed to be building something.

It began to put together what you could only understand as a makeshift container. A bowl or a tub, big enough for both of its hands to fit comfortably in. It welded together metal with a blowtorch, which was absolutely another thing you had to worry about, but what was more terrifying was what it did when it finished the bowl. It filled it up with water. And started a controlled fire to heat it. Like a camper heating up cold food. A shiver ran up your spine as you thought about what the food could be in this situation.

When it turned back to you, you tried to scoot back again, but it was in vain. It used a smaller container, made of the same metal if you had to guess, to take some of the boiling water. Cold, unmoving eyes beamed down on you like headlights. Suddenly, you knew how the deer felt.

You shook and begged for it to stay away, only earning you an insultingly pitying look before emptying the cup over your neck and collarbone. It was searing. You screamed, of course, and kicked and struggled and did everything in your limited power to stop it. To your surprise, after a second it did. You could still feel the heat stabbing into your skin, but no more water came. Instead it made a noise akin to a gasp and hesitantly reached out before retracting its arm and turning away. At that point the curtain of night begun had fall over the forest, the only illumination being the rising moon and your giant captors eyes.

While it was otherwise occupied, the adrenaline started to wear off once again. You were very confused about what just took place and why it wasn’t still happening, but you sure as hell weren’t arguing with it. Pain from your old injury and your new burn took hold, and with the deafening silence of the world around you (save for some mechanical clicks and whirrs from the giant) you could only focus on your body’s demands for comfort. And comfort did come, because your vision began to burr and your mind went blank.

…

You weren’t out for long. Or you assumed as much, as when you woke you were in the same position as before. With one key difference. It was looking right at you. Again you preformed your old routine of screaming and failing to get away, but when you finished you noticed something. You were still in a lot of pain… but you felt lighter.

After a glance down, the realization dawned on you that the dirt and dried blood covering your form was gone. Well, not gone, but at least cleaned. As far as you knew no magical fairy did a mediocre job at fixing you up (not that you would be surprised if it did at this point), so that would leave the giant as the culprit.

Why?

Was it trying to clean you up before it ate you or something? You figured it would have done that already instead of waiting for you to wake up… unless you got really unlucky by getting captured by a sadistic giant robot. Though… this one really didn’t seem the type. It did hurt you with the water, and handled you a bit too rough for your taste, but for something its size the handling seemed like an inevitability rather than an intentional attack. And the water, the burning still hurt like hell but when it saw you in pain it stopped. That cup had more water in it, it could have dumped the whole thing on you- yet it didn’t. And here you were, wounds cleaned up with what could only be water. Cold water. Purposefully cooled water.

You weren’t one to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, maybe you were just going insane. You still couldn’t trust it, you still needed to get out.

Yet there was a part of you that wanted to believe the giant was good. It wasn’t the one that broke your leg or made you trip down that cliff. It just found you. And now your life is literally in its hands.

A question formed in the back of your mind. Well, maybe reappeared rather than formed. After the initial shock of seeing it, you’d forgotten all about what you really wanted to know. Above all else, all your other burning inquiries, one made it out of your mouth as you looked into its eyes without fear for the first time.

“What are you?”

————————

What a strange sound. It made rounded and soft noises, a staggering departure from Ratchet’s own language. Whatever it was, this call was distinctly different from the others he’d heard it make before. Earlier they had been shrill and quick, but now it was slow and even… careful. Like a question not expecting an answer.

And the sound happened right after it looked itself over and realized it was clean. Just how sentient was this thing? Thinking about it now, that fabric it wore didn’t seem like the thing grew it itself. It was a covering, a weaving, something taken from another creature and made into cloth.

Memories resurfaced and demanded his attention; memories of its body language, its spoken language, its… no, no not it… they.

Wait, no, that was a wild Leo to conclusions, right? He’d found them- it- severely injured in its own territory, what sentient creature would cause that to happen to themself? Then again, stranger things had happened. He’d seen stranger things happen. Accidents were a factor was well, he would know, and he hadn’t even seen what else was on this planet. Maybe it was more than a random backwater mudball.

Then he remembered something very important. It wasn’t very important at the time he got it, but now it could be the defining factor in interacting with an entirely new species. Wheeljack’s experimental translator. Experimental was a key word in this situation, especially when applied to Wheeljack. He’d claimed it worked perfectly and had no flaws, but he had also claimed the same thing about the “Time Stasis Gun” that almost offlined the entire crew. Hopefully this one didn’t explode… or cause a spacetime anomaly.

It was a program that could be activated whenever, Ratchet just never did because why would he ever trust an untested program designed by Wheeljack. But looking down at this being he’d spontaneously decided to save, it was worth a shot. He sent out the command to turn it on. Now he just had to wait for it to get a grip on the new language.

Unfortunately for him, the little creature hadn’t been very talkative. There wasn’t much he could do about that. He ex-vented and decided to keep doing what he did best: mending the injured. And that limb really needed some straightening out. With the rest of the leftover scrap metal he had he tried to create a splint that would keep the limb secure. He’d seen the self healing capabilities of some organics before and hoped this one had that power too. Luckily, judging by the already scabbing cuts he’d cleaned, he wouldn’t have to worry about that.

“I’m going to have to put this on your broken limb, I promise it won’t hurt you.” He showed off the split in one servo, letting the thing look it over before he approached the injury. The thing made some unintelligible squeaks before bobbing their head up and down hesitantly. He took it as a good sign and began to slowly move toward the break. Still, they hesitated for a second, unwilling to expose such a vulnerable part of themself. He couldn’t blame them. Eventually they moved what they could of the damaged limb toward Ratchet.

He nodded gruffly, a clunky but seemingly appreciated gesture. With the splint in one servo he gently and carefully lifted their limb up. They grimaced and sharply sucked in air- he looked at them in worry, stopping immediately, but they gave him a “go on” motion. So he did, and through this slow and painful process he was able to attach the splint successfully. When he finally finished both parties smiled, the smaller half making little noises of supposed joy.

The translator hadn’t kicked in yet, but Ratchet didn’t get a second to question it because the creature started trying to get up. Obviously he dashed to settle them down, earning him a squeak of disapproval and cursing himself for being so brash. They seemed taken aback, predictably, but when he moved his servos back as fast as he could their face seemed to soften. They even smiled at him. Cute.

Soon they resigned to watching the forest once again, darkness still lapping at all sides. He watched their movements get slower as the time passed. They gave him as assessing look, one he could only describe as scrutinizing, but not long after they glanced at the splint, closed their little optics, and laid down. This nearly sent him into a panic thinking they had suddenly offlined, but calmed down after he remembered organics recharged often. Frankly, it was a relief. Not only were they getting some very needed rest, it seemed they trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. Now that’s progress.

In terms of energy, Ratchet was fine. Now that the chaos of the creature had calmed down, though, worry began to tiptoe back in his processor. He knew his friends would be okay, they always have. But that sound he heard before he went into stasis… it wasn’t his pod getting damaged, it was louder than the shots being fired before, it was more reminiscent of a ship being destroyed. Logically it would make sense. The Arc was already damaged and the Deceptions had the advantage, it would be perfectly possible that they… didn’t make it. He hadn’t gotten any signals or recorded any signs of mechanical life. They could be hurt and no one would be there to fix them, they could be gone for all he knew—

But Ratchet hadn’t made it this far in the war by worrying and doubting his friends. They’d made it, of course they did. If Optimus had a plan it must have worked. Still, with limited technology it would take a while to send out a distress signal powerful enough to reach space. For now, he’d just make sure the creature was safe and get back to work. Come next cycle he’d move back to the pod. He had faith his friends could hang on a little while longer.

———————

You weren’t expecting a reply and you didn’t get one. Not a verbal one, anyway. You stared at the thing and it stared back. It stared still for a couple minutes, which was incredibly off putting, but that was better than constantly screaming and shaking with fear. Eventually it breathed out, or something similar, because you really didn’t think breathing was something this thing could do. Suddenly it turned away and began tinkering again, which you found pretty rude, though it’s not like it could really tell you what it was going to do.

After a while it came back with a small gizmo of some sort. Looking closer there was something familiar about its shape, but you were distracted by the sounds of more metal scraping and whirring before you could really process what it was. The robot looked at you expectantly while it held the thing in its hand, this time realizing what it was trying to say. The “gizmo” was a splint. It wanted to put a splint in your leg.

You considered your options: Struggle and refuse to be treated by a giant robot, or let it touch your very broken leg. You didn’t like either option very much, but some treatment was better than none. There wasn’t much you had to lose anyway. You nodded, hoping to convey a “yes” or “okay”, and to your surprise it worked.

When it started to move closer you remembered one key problem you had with this. Broken leg hurts. Giant robot with big hands trying to put on a little thing on broken leg really hurts. Probably. You hesitate on offering your leg to it. However your choices were very limited, so you balled your hands into fists and tried to move your leg into the right position. While you hesitated, it waited patiently, something you were very grateful for. You were also grateful of the fact it was surprisingly gentle with you. It still hurt like a bitch, but the splint was eventually secured to your leg. You cheered when it was all over and smiled as bright as you could, and when you looked at its face, it smiled too.

It was such a relief to have something keeping your leg in place. It made you feel like you could actually get up! Actually, maybe you could! It was an idiotic decision and you knew that, but you did it anyway. Right after attempting to stand, you were greeted with the robot “gasping” (or something) and with lightning speed it pinned you back down. This came as a shock. It really shouldn’t have, but it did. You yelled a bit, obviously, and sat stunned for a second. Sure it shook you up, but apparently not as much as it did the robot. It seemed to take its hand away like it burned its fingers, now looking at you with… fear? Worry? It was kind of endearing.

You tried to comfort it with some soft words, though it didn’t seem to hear you over whatever it might’ve been thinking about. So you sighed and resigned to looking back up at the sky. The stars were on full display now. You liked to think of them as friends. They were always there no matter what, whether you could see them or not. They were beautiful in cosmic glory, yet small and subject to burning out at any moment. It was amazing, really.

Your stargaze was cut short when you were hit with a wave of fatigue, again unconsciousness coming to claim your mind. It was late, you supposed, and it didn’t seem like this thing was going to hurt you. You gave it a look over, but remembered how much it had helped you. So you laid back, using your hands as a pillow and closing your eyes. As much as a nightmare the past day had been, a small voice on the back of your head hoped it wasn’t a dream.

#transformers #tripleglitchwrites #g/t #transformers g/t #gn human reader #gn reader #ratchet #fun fact: I have a lot more planned out for this AU

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littledollll · 1 year

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🕊️

Back with a request but not Agere :0 I know mad I have one of those to send next so don’t fret my love and how is your day going? Remember you’re so loved

Prompt~ so I feel like an angsty Larissa x reader fic based off the song “ceilings- Lizzy McApline” would be perfect. It goes on about how they wish to be with someone yet it’s not a real opportunity. They can’t be with them for some reason. I feel you could write that beautifully ~ shy anon🕊️

Lonely dreams

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: im hanging in there babes, it’s lovely to see you here like always, I hope you enjoy. Idk how to do songlyric fics so I won’t cuz scary but I’ve actually had vivid daydreams about this song and this is how it goes. Requests are open

Warning: fluff, loss, grief.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had the perfect life. Everything you’ve ever dreamt of came true for you. Your dream job, the love of your life, that easy going, calm, day to day and you’ve always craved, you finally had it.

A safe routine that repeated every day, you and Larissa worked and lived together like you always wished. You’d wake up every morning with littered kisses all over your face, making you giggle and pout. Making breakfast together was probably the best part of your day, you and Larissa together in a spacious kitchen with everything you could possibly need for the perfect meal, it felt like those love story movies, when they’d show those baking montages filled with laughs and attacking eachother with food.

Walking hand in hand through the hallways made you feel so confident, having Larissa Weems proudly showing you to the world. She walked you to your class with a kiss on the very tip of your nose, making you giggle and turn away to compose yourself before you had to start class.

“I will see you at lunch, my love.” Something made you want to pull her back, to stop her from walking away and give you just another kiss. But you didn’t, instead letting her go, “Have a good day, Issa” you said, before running off to start class.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

You had this unsettling feeling running through your bones the whole morning, but it all went away when you met Larissa for lunch. Routine. Just like always, your pre-packed lunch that you made together the afternoon before, a conversation filled lunch or maybe just enjoying eachother in silence. A second to just breathe and be, you hugged and kissed so softly, so sweetly you never wanted to go back. It was a movie, it was your perfect life.

And the day went on, you’d come back to her office after class was over and wait the two hours she stayed extra working after you. You mostly bugged her to get out of the office and come home with you, occasionally you’d poke her for attention and get a quick kiss which made you feel giddy all over and sedated you for another few minutes before you inevitably poked her again.

You were resting against Larissa’s shoulder when she closed the computer and looked your way, a sweet smile on her face. “Okay darling, we can go now.”

Larissa’s warm and dazzling smile, was the most comforting thing on this planet, you couldn’t love anything more. It was contagious, whenever she smiled you couldn’t help but follow.

Tonight you’d order take out, every week twice a week, Routine. You’d always pick something new to try for the first time together, and you’d sit together on the couch with nothing but music playing in the background, the second you were done eating you were always the first to fall asleep.

Shuffling down to get confortable as you nuzzled into her chest with a pleased sigh, you could hear her calm heart beat, how her chest lightly moved up and down with every relaxed breath. Your perfect girl, the perfect movie life.

But you woke up, and it was over. The fresh memory of her funeral as if it had been just yesterday. A year, a whole year. And your mind refused to give in to the idea, that was it. She’s gone forever.

There was no such thing as her soft lips waking you up every morning, you didn’t laugh and dance every morning with breakfast, you walked alone through the halls of this now so monotone school, you ate lunch at your desk with nobody but yourself, and you went straight home after school. Losing yourself in daydreams of seeing her again, until you cried yourself to sleep, all to repeat again the next day, routine.

You were harshly slapped by reality each morning. You woke up. And that was it, the end of your perfect movie.

#larissa weems #principal weems #🕊️ anon #Larissa weems angst #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie #larissa x reader #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #larissa weems nevermore #larissa weems x reader #shy anon love page #shy anon

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gerrycoco · 2 years

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When You Wish Upon A Star (a HeartWish animatic fanfic drabble)

After watching the animatic by the amazing @nwarrior777 I just really really wanted to write a little fanfic for it. It’s not much but I hope you guys still enjoy it. You can also read it here on ao3

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The shrill sound of an alarm pierced the cold morning air. Evan blinked awake blearily as he turned to shut it off, sighing deeply as he stared at the ceiling.

He stayed there in his bed for several more minutes, unwilling yet to get up and face the day. The remnants of the dream he'd been having before the alarm went off still drift hazily in the back of his mind. It was another one of those dreams, the kind where he wasn't sure whether he was happy or not to have woken from it. The memory of the dream was slowly fading but he could almost still feel the warmth of what had been strong and loving arms holding him close.

Evan sighed once more before managing to convince his body to get up and heave himself out of bed, tiredly stomping to the bathroom. Why did he always have to have such a vivid imagination? Why did he have to keep torturing himself like this?

Entering the bathroom, Evan took in the sight of the dirty mirror as he went to wash his face. He'd been meaning to clean it for weeks now, but he hadn't been able to muster the energy or the will to do so. The grime also helped to obscure the view in the mirror and the less Evan could see of himself the better he figured. Cleaning it would mean having to admit on which side of the mirror the real mess was.

Without being fully aware of doing so, Evan's mind began to wander again to that feeling from his dream. He was so terribly touch starved that, as he closed his eyes for a moment to pass the washcloth over his face, he let himself daydream a domestic scene with an unspecified object of his affections. However when he opened his eyes again, he was met with the vision of himself once more and the ghost of the arms he'd imagined wrapped around him vanished just as quickly.

Evan knew that he really shouldn't do this to himself, but he couldn't help it. He'd always been told that he was too much of a dreamer for his own good. And for the longest time he'd been the worst hopeless romantic he knew. Not anymore though, life had found many ways to break that part of him over time. Still, he couldn't help but to keep pulling out those rose colored glasses that stayed tucked away deep inside himself. It brought him a brief moment of comfort, though it was gone just as quickly with the sinking reminder that he was truly alone.

This melancholy followed him as he now made his way into the kitchen area to get some food. In terms of cleanliness it was no better than the bathroom had been, empty cans and dirty dishes piled on the table, the sink already being too filled with more dirty dishes Evan had been ignoring for far too many days now. He didn’t mean to be so messy, he just didn’t feel like there was any purpose to keeping the place clean and tidy for his own sake. It was also why he barely bothered to make food for himself, it was very exciting or motivating to cook for one after all.

Once again Evan’s mind wandered, now to a scene of sharing a meal with a significant other, as he sat down at the table to eat yesterday's takeout leftovers. His fantasies didn’t often involve loud or passionate moments, all he really wanted after all was just someone to spend those little daily moments with. He sighed deeply as he aimlessly moved the food around his place, trying to push those thoughts and wishes away.

Feeling bored, Evan made his way to his computer. There were different projects he could start on, countless works in progress he could continue. The pictures on his wall and his camera seemed to be taunting him, reminding him of all he’d done in the past, of all he felt he should be doing with his life. Feeling overwhelmed by it all and unable to decide on anything he clicked onto his social media instead. At first the distraction helped to take his mind off everything, however it only took a few more scrolls to be reminded all over again that he was alone. He frowned as he tried to scroll past what seemed like neverending relationship status updates and romantic coded posts. Tired of it all, Evan suddenly slammed it shut, scowling deeply.

It was nighttime now, the sky having darkened behind him without Evan having even really noticed. He slumped back tiredly on his chair, feeling dejected at the prospect of another day come and gone with little to show for. A sudden gust of wind caused the window shudders to rattle loudly, startling Evan as he turned to look outside.

Going to the window, he was met with the spectacular sight of a meteor shower. With a gasp he went to grab his camera, taking a few shots in hopes of capturing something worthwhile. He'd always loved stars, and shooting stars more specifically. The majestic lightshow from his window made him nostalgic of the days when he still believed in things like wishing upon falling stars. In a moment of impulse, he caught the sight of a specific star's trail and found himself clasping his hands together, wishing deep inside his heart for something, for someone.

This was followed by an immediate rush of embarrassment, Evan feeling childish and naive for doing such a thing. He was an adult now, he knew better than to go chasing delusional fantasies. Closing his eyes, he shook his head in reproval of himself, trying to rid himself of these fanciful thoughts that just wouldn't seem to leave him alone.

Behind closed lids there was a sudden burst of light, it seemed to be growing in intensity by the second. His eyes snapped open, the source of light now even brighter and blinding as it seemed to be barreling towards him at dangerous speeds. Evan barely had the time to think or to try and step away from the window that something came crashing into his room.

With difficulty Evan opened his eyes, he'd been thrown partway across the room in the commotion. His heart beat fast and his breath came hard as he tried to make sense of what just happened. With hazy vision he scanned the room, broken window glass and other debris scattered across the floor along with his belongings. Looking back towards the window, his gaze stopped with surprise.

There he saw what appeared to be a person, lying seemingly unconscious in a pile of junk on the floor. At least, it looked like a person, though Evan wasn't sure. His mind raced as he tried to take in the bizarre looking humanoid figure. The first thing that stood out was their very pale skin that looked like it was glowing. Aside from the short mop of dark hair Evan wasn't sure what to make of their appearance; they appeared to be wearing makeup or possibly facial tattoos, their clothes an array of eccentric mix of tattered pieces, fishnet elements and some jewelry.

Evan wondered feverishly what he should do, and whether he should be scared of this individual that had suddenly crashed into his room. It was then that the being's eyes snapped open and stood up abruptly, and dusted themselves off, sending off what looked like little sparkles when in doing so. Their dual colored gaze - one eye very dark, the other white with no pupil- scanning the room before their gaze fell upon Evan. Before Evan had the chance to think what to do, the curious stranger looked him over intently and, to Evan's surprise, smirked and proceeded to wink at him.

Evan gasped stunned for a moment. Then, strangely, he felt immediately calm, curious even. Standing up slowly, he made his way carefully toward the mysterious being that has quite literally come crashing into his life. His heart was now beating wildly again, but this time for a whole new reason.

"What… Who… who are you?" Evan asked somewhat bluntly, unsure what else to say.

The stranger chuckled at this, a bright cheery laugh that Evan couldn't help but smile back at. "Me? Well, that's a good question…" the individual responded, pausing for a moment.

"You can call me Starboy."

#heartwish #starboy #fanfic #drabble #one-shot

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fawnandshadows · 3 years

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After the Ceremony - Chapter 4

Hello Everyone! I am so excited to share Chapter 4 with you guys. I am so appreciative of all of the love I've received from the first three chapter, and I want you guys to know that I have chapter 5 written! Chapter 5 is officially the last chapter, and it will be out next week. This fic is also available on AO3.

I hope you guys enjoy xoxo

Summary: Elain and Azriel after Nesta and Cassian’s Mating Ceremony.

Words: 3,550

Story Rating: M

Elain was flustered all through breakfast. There was a burning between her thighs, and from the way everyone was studiously avoiding her gaze, she knew that everyone was aware of it. That they could scent it. Elain would have been absolutely mortified if she wasn’t so focused on not throwing herself at Azriel, who was seated as far away from her as possible. He was on the opposite end of the table, sitting across from Nesta, and Elain wanted nothing more than to peel herself out of her dress and feel Azriel’s skin on her - to feel Azriel as he pushed into her warm heat and filled her until she -

“Elain,” Nesta said from two seats over, breaking Elain out of her very vivid daydream. “Would you ever consider training with us? Cass and I talked it over and we thought it might be a good idea.”

Elain leaned over Cassian's hulking form, which was shoveling eggs into his mouth, to look at Nesta. Her sister looked radiant, way too radiant for someone who spent the night making love to her newly mated male, in fact they both looked suspiciously well rested, and not at all as restless as Elain felt. She felt like an electric current was coursing through her veins and the only thing that could soothe it was a certain shadowsinger who was pointedly ignoring her. Elain meant to respond to her sister, but her eyes drifted back to the male sitting across from her. She noticed how his arms flex, just a little, as they brought a cup of water up to his lips, and Elain thought about how his naked arms would look as he took her on the table, one hand under her knee and the other fisted in her hair, pulling just a little as he thrust -

Azriel choked on his water. His wide eyes with surprise as they met hers, and he looked flustered. The scary spymaster and shadowsinger, looked at her with an open jaw, bright red cheeks, and water dribbling down his chin.

The ache at her core throbbed at the sight of him. She wanted to see Azriel flustered more often.

Amren smacked him on the back, her eyes going back and forth between the two of them, before smacking his back a little harder than necessary, as if to remind them of Elains mate that was sitting at the table. Lucien glowered at Azriel before going back to his breakfast and conversation with Feyre, who was sitting at the end of the table to Elains right.

Cassian looked at Azriel for a minute before stating, “You need to get laid.”

Elain felt her eyes go wide at her brother-in-laws comment before hiding her face in her hair. She thought about how close they had come the night before, and she was kicking herself for stopping them. Waiting had seemed like such a good idea last night, but right now all Elain wanted was for Azriel to make love to her and never stop. She wanted him to claim her in a way that nobody ever had. She wanted him to leave a mark on her so that every other fae in Prythian would know who owned her heart- who she gave her heart two.

“Cassian!” Feyre exclaimed, carefully keeping her eyes off of her sister. “We’re eating breakfast.”

“Tell that to him,” Cassian said and pointed a finger at Azriel. “He’s the one that is stinking up the room with his arousal,” Which earned him a punch in the arm courtesy of Nesta. Elain had thought that everyone could smell her arousal, but did they think it was Azriels? Did their scents smell the same, but if they thought it was Azriel’s arousal, then why weren’t they looking at her. Unless they thought she was the reason for his current state.

The usually unflappable spymaster was so flushed that his only response to Cassian was a murderous glare and a swift “shut up.” Elain took in the sharp line of his jaw, and imagined running her tongue over it. How could she not have done that the night before? She imagined that jaw between her legs, while his tongue was pressing against her core, and she could feel it.

“So you think Elain should train?” Feyre said from Elain’s left, trying to get the conservation normal again.

Elain was suddenly bombarded with a mental image of her in Illyrian leathers, but she was kneeling in front of someone. The scarred hand that tangled in her hair told her she was kneeling in front of Azriel. Her mouth was opened and she was licking his -

It was Elain’s turn to gasp this time, her eyes flying to Azriel, who looked at her with a smirk. Did he know what she saw? That was impossible, no one ever saw her visions but her. Unless it wasn’t a vision…

A soft coolness brushed against her bare leg under the table, and Elain knew it was a shadow. She didn’t know whether this particular shadow was bold, or if it was under the directions of Azriel. Either way she was curious to find out. She bit her lip and glanced towards the shadowsinger, whose face was unreadable, but his eyes were suspiciously bright. He definitely knew what he was doing.

The shadow caressed her leg so delicately Elain was surprised she felt it. Feeling the shadow against her skin cooled her down just enough so that she could gather her thoughts to feel humiliation creeping up her spine like ivy, as she finally understood the situation.

Oh Mother. Her family could smell her arousal.

Her face burned hotter than ever before. She needed to excuse herself from the table.

Elain stood up so fast she thought she was going to faint, and ignored the six pairs of eyes watching her, and she muttered some excuse about helping the twins in the kitchen. She turned so quickly she almost toppled her chair, and she left behind a plate of cold eggs as she practically ran from the room.

She didn’t go to the kitchen. She bolted past it and out the side door, not bothering to take in her surroundings — otherwise she wouldn’t have tripped over the uneven patch of the cobblestone path leading to her garden, and continued straight to her little gardening shed.

It actually wasn’t so little. Elain’s gardening shed was practically a cabin. She had insisted on something smaller, just a regular wooden tool shed, but Rhysand in all his generosity wanted to build her something big enough for her to live in, so they came to a compromise. There was one big main room, filled with everything she could possibly want to garden with, a small kitchenette and bathroom fitted with running water, and Rhysand convinced her to add a small bedroom in case she tired while gardening. Despite his meddling her brother-in-law did love to spoil her.

Her shed was the only place she could feel truly alone at the river house, and she hoped that the smell of flowers and various fertilizers would cover the scent of her arousal. Elain barely noticed the hot tears sliding down her face as she slammed the door shut, she was feeling too many emotions to care about anything, and despite her confusion and humiliation, her desire for Azriel was so strong, and the burning at her core came back with a vengeance, that nothing really mattered to her. Every cell in her body wanted to be claimed by Azriel.

Elain collapsed in on herself. Her body hit the floor with a thud, and she brought her knees up to her chest in a hug. She sat there crying for a minute before she heard her name being whispered in the shadows. Her head whipped around so quickly she almost struck it against the door — at first she only saw shadow, but then there was Azriel clear as day with inky shadows swirling around his form.

“Az,” Elain exclaimed before getting to her feet and throwing herself at him. She expected to feel his hardened muscles, the softness of his shirt against her cheek, and the thrill of his calloused fingers against her skin, but she felt nothing except cool air. Elain took a step back and looked at him in confusion.

“It’s a trick I learned. Very helpful for spying, but not so much for comforting,” Az explained, and his face softened into concern as he continued. “Are you ok?”

“I’m so confused, and humiliated,” Elain sniffed as she brought her arms around herself. Her voice turned to a whisper as she said, “And all I want is for you to touch me the way you did last night and to never stop. I-I don’t understand.” She hiccuped.

“I’m not exactly sure what is happening, but I promise you I will find out. I want nothing more than to touch you too,” Az let out a groan that skittered over Elains skin and caused her aching center to throb. “But I don’t think I should see you until you… settle down.” After seeing the horrified look on her face he continued. “Not because I don’t want to, but because of what you said last night. You wanted to be free the first time we — made love— and I want to respect that. I’ll tell everyone that you aren’t feeling well, and I’ll have Nuala and Cerridwen bring you food and everything you need.”

“Are you not affected?” Elain asked in a whisper.

“I am, but I have been feeling this for a long time, Elain. I have wanted you for so long and been denied — every part of me is screaming to go to you right now, but I don’t want everyone to know. Well, I want to rub it in everyone’s face that the prettiest girl in Pyrthian wants to be with me,” Azriel shook his head with a small smile. “However, you know how our family can be.”

Elain nodded in understanding, and her tears subsided just a little. Azriel thought that she was the prettiest girl in Prythian. Happiness bloomed in her chest like a rose in spring.

“When will I see you again?” Elain asked and another thought occurred to her. “Are you still at breakfast?”

“No, I left a moment or two after you. I didn’t want everyone noticing that the scent in the room was lessening, so I left too. Rhysand and Lucien looked like they wanted to kill me, but fuck ‘em.”

A small giggle erupted from Elain as she said, “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

Azriel blinked in surprise before tossing his head back in laughter.

“I’ll see you as soon as I can, I promise. I don’t want to be away from you any more than you want to be away from me,” Azriel said with a blush. “I’m assuming.”

“You’re correct.” Elain gave him her best smile — one that hopefully said she wasn’t going to climb the walls in desperation and want. “I miss you.” Elain said and her smile turned shy.

“I miss you too,” Azriel said with a heartbreaking smile. “I’ll see you soon, love.”

Elain said goodbye before he vanished into shadows.

Azriel felt weird about going to the library in his current state. He knew that the females that worked there had experienced trauma in the past and that the library was a safe haven for them, and he was more than embarrassed to be entering their sanctuary with the stench of arousal dripping off of him. Clotho hadn’t seemed to notice, however, when she saw him and directed him to the fourth floor. Az didn’t get the chance to say why he was there.

He did his best to avoid the priestess’ as he made his way to the fourth floor, which was suspiciously easy — almost as if they could smell him coming and knew not to go near him. The next training session was going to be uncomfortable.

When Az finally got to the section Clotho had directed him to he was stunned to find Mor sitting at a table with dozens of books spread out and propped open, she was pouring over an ancient looking book when her brown eyes looked up and met his.

She looked pleasantly surprised as she said, “You’re here sooner than I expected.”

“Mor,” Azriel said with a sigh and rubbed his temples. He could feel the beginning of a headache approaching. “What the hell is going on.”

The girl looked at him with pity before patting the seat next to her.

“I’ve been looking into all kinds of bonds that can occur between fae,” Mor started and held up a worn red book, “regular, run of the mill mating bonds,” She set her book down before picking up a fraying and tattered green one. “Surprisingly they have a book on bonds that can be made by the Cauldron — ancient, and in a language I barely understand,” Mor set the book down gingerly before picking up a hefty blue leather bound book. “And volumes, so many volumes, of mating bonds throughout the history of Prythian. This one here is just the greatest hits, but the next aisle over,” She set the book down and pointed her thumb over her shoulder. “Has over 70 books detailing various mating bonds throughout history in the tiniest print you have ever seen. I didn’t know it was possible to write that small, but Mother bless the person who came up with the anti-aging spell for ink and parchment.”

Azriel stared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’ll take my thank you any day now.” Mor said.

“Why are you doing this?” Azriel asked in a calm voice. He looked at her intently as she tried to keep her face blank, but ended up turning the book opened in front of her.

“I want you to be happy,” Mor said in a quiet voice, so different from her usual boisterous self. “After,” She nibbled on her lip to collect her thoughts. “After 500 years you deserve happiness. I feel almost responsible, and I just-” She cut herself off with a shake of her head. “You and Elain both deserve to be happy.”

Azriel looked at her for a second before saying, “Thank you,” He let a moment pass before adding, “I want you to be happy too.”

He could see her eyes start to line with silver, but she managed to crack a smile.

“I’ll be happy once I can leave, Az,” She deadpanned which caused Azriel to roll his eyes. “So get to work.”

They spent at least three hours sifting through book after book only to come up empty handed. Azriel didn’t know what he expected, but he thought he would be able to find something that would at least point him in the right direction. He certainly didn’t think there would be that many books on mating bonds, or even spells that could create the illusion of a mating bond. Even the book on Cauldron made bonds held nothing of importance for him.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes with the heels of palms. All he wanted to do was see Elain again, but he couldn’t go back to her empty handed.

“Maybe we are looking in the wrong section.” Mor suggested as she slumped in her seat.

“Has Clotho ever been wrong before?” Az asked and attempted to keep his frustration at bay. He knew it would take a while to find the information he wanted, but all of his self-restraint and patience had been worn thin. He may be the Spymaster, but he was a male just like any other, and he ached for a certain female.

“I could sense a bond between you two,” Mor said and ran her hands through her mane of hair in frustration. “But I didn’t understand why nothing snapped into place when you ate the food she offered.”

“Oh,” Azriel said with a blink. He ran a hand over his face as he realized he forgot to tell her a very important piece of information. “I offered her a sip of my coffee, and then a blue river of energy flowed out of her chest and into mine.”

He remembered perfectly how it looked and how it had shocked him to his bones. The beautiful silver-blue radiating from her heart, like mist over the Sidra, and found its way home to his chest.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Mor exclaimed, her voice breaking the tranquility of the library, as she gestured to the piles of books surrounding them.

“Sorry,” Azriel said. “I’ve been a little distracted.”

He had been. Everytime he turned the page his mind kept wandering back to Elain, and once he started to think of Elain he began to feel her. He could feel how amazingly soft her lips were, how pliant her body was as it pressed against him, and then he could see the two of them tangled in sheets while her cries of pleasure rang through the air. There were multiple times when his thoughts became so vivid he ran the risk of ruining his pants, and he looked around to make sure that no one had noticed where his mind went. The images he saw were so real, and so familiar that he would have sworn they were memories somehow. And the way he saw them was different too because they felt as if they came to him from an outside source— almost similar to how Rhysand would talk to him, mind to mind.

Mor’s delicate golden brows furrowed as she lost herself in thought. Azriel could practically see a faelight go off in her mind at the way her expression brightened. She started digging through the books, flinging some over her shoulders which his shadows had to catch. Eventually, she found what she had been looking for, and started flipping through a blue leather bound book that was in much better shape than the others. A smile spread across her face as she read a passage.

“Here.” Mor said as she handed the book to him, an unusual gentleness of her face.

Azriel accepted the book. His body went unnaturally still as he looked at a section entitled “The Bonds of The Mother”. His hazel eyes churned as he studied every word.

Not much is known about the bonds crafted by the Mother other than the fact that they are rare. While bonds of the Cauldron often are matches of strengths and more often than not created to ensure the continuation of the fae race, it is speculated that a bond created of the Mother shows a pairing of two souls perfect for each other. Two fae that are bonded by the Mother were created for each other, complimentary in every way, with their souls destined to find each other. Soul Bonds, which is the proper name of a bond the Mother creates, appear as a silver-blue light; they are only in place when both fae accept each other completely and wholly. One aspect of the Soul Bond that distinguishes it from the Mating Bond, is that both fae must accept some form of nourishment in order for the bond to be fully accepted. The Mother, having dominion over females, may cause the soul bond to have a more physical effect on females than males, which also separates the Soul Bond from the Mating Bond. It should be known that the acceptance of a Soul Bond nulls any other bond that may or may not be present, while it is highly unlikely it is possible to have multiple Mating Bonds which is not so for Soul Bonds. The acceptance of a Soul Bond nullifies any bond or spell which may connect two fae.

“Azriel!” A cheerful voice disturbed his reading. Azriel looked up, slightly annoyed at being interrupted, to see a familiar red-head poker her head around a bookcase. “Did you come to visit me?” Gwyn shot him a smile — one that he was sure would have been charming if he didn’t have a soul bond. She stepped into view.

He had a soul bond.

The shadowsinger shook his head and said, “I have to leave. May I take this with me?” He asked in a rush. He had to get Elain and let her know, a small wave of trepidation passed through him as he thought of how she reacted to Lucien and the mating bond. Azriel sent a prayer to the Mother, please, please let Elain accept the Soul Bond.

“Of course,” Gwyn said with a small frown. “You’re leaving so soon?” Her teal eyes finally looked at what aisle he was in and understanding dawned on her face.

“I’ll be here,” Mor chirped from behind Az. “Cleaning up so Lover Boy can go find the love of his life. I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure he owes me big time.”

Azriel stood there anxiously, just wanting to deal with Mor and Gwyn later, he had to go see Elain. As soon as Gwyn stepped out of the way Azriel left — determined to find his perfect half.

#elain archeron #elain acotar #elriel fanfic #pro elriel #elriel fanfiction #elain x azriel #elriel #azriel #after the ceremony #after the ceremony chapter 4 #my fanfiction #my work

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bimsha · 3 years

Text

All of Our Stars (Sano Manjiro x Reader)

"You're on the other side

As the skyline splits in two

Miles away from seeing you"

Song - All of Our Stars by Ed Sheeran

“And you all have to read the next pages…” The voice of your teacher droned in the background as he repeated the homework for which it felt like the trillionth time after starting the period. Your eyes wandered aimlessly along the Sakura trees which were bare against the melancholic nature surrounding them. Winter break was close at hand, nature was getting ready to welcome the coldness.

You collected your things as the bell rang snapping you off from your daydream. Students rushed out of the classroom, grateful that another exhausting school day was over. Everyone was getting ready for the upcoming exams which were close at hand. You didn’t care much about them. You’re a third year middle school student and everyone in the class was already choosing high schools while you knew you wouldn’t be able to choose yourself. It’s already chosen. You’re moving with your parents to America next year. Your mind was occupied with different thoughts as you took the stairs, finding your way through the crowd of students heading home.

Your eyes wandered to the gate when you noticed him standing there as usual, but he was in his casual attire, not the school uniform. “Skipped school today?” You asked, walking to Mikey. It had been a whole year since you two started dating. It was almost as if when you two are together, time accelerates. You could recall every precious memory like a vivid polaroid. Your first Christmas together, the games at the arcade, and the things you went through when the world of delinquents suddenly crashed into your safe bubble of love. It was beautiful. Every scar, every memory was beautiful.

He stood up straight, no welcoming smile. “You didn’t tell me, Y/n, Why?”

Your smile faded, he knew. You averted your gaze to the ground, absentmindedly poking the sole of your shoe against the ground. “I found out a couple of days ago. It was a sudden decision” You sighed, “So they say”

Mikey stared at you for a moment, “Y/n, what do you want to do?”

You shook your head. That was the question you had in your mind for days. What do you want to do? You didn’t have any idea whether long distance relationships actually worked. Sure, you could visit when it’s a holiday but what about the rest of the days? “C’mon” Mikey took your wrist, guiding you out of the school. You two walked in silence as he slipped his hand to yours, entangling your fingers. A small sign of reassurance. Mikey was good at subtle affectionate gestures. That’s how he loved you, subtle, but affectionate.

“Y/n” He rubbed his thumb across your skin, his eyes looking at the fallen leaves making a thick carpet of red and orange under your feet. “I don’t want to end this”

You smiled, it was obvious, neither did you. “Same here.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “We could try long distance.”

“I know…” Your voice trailed off, “But Mikey, what if you-” You stopped, the question was obvious. What if you find someone else? Someone better? You shook your head, “I don’t know”

Mikey tipped his head backwards, looking at the blue sky, heavily covered with clouds. It would be a matter of weeks till snow starts to cover the streets. “I had the same thoughts.” He admitted, turning to you. Both of your fears were valid. Human hearts are fragile and needy. You didn’t know what the future held. “But” He started, “Then I thought of something else. Come, there’s something I have to show you.”

Suddenly, both of you were running across the streets, passing people who were busy with their phones and groceries. Cold wind brushed against your cheeks as you two dashed past annoyed people groaning about youngsters'' manners these days. You didn’t even know the destination until you both stopped in front of a wall filled with graffiti. You knew the place well. Mikey and you came here for your first date. Your eyes instantly reached the bottom corner where Mikey’s messy handwriting was. Written in black ink, contrasting against the patch of white was just one line:

“All of these stars will guide us home”

It was an inside joke between you two. A comfort song of sorts. “Remember here?” Mikey crouched down, his hands softly running over the words. Just underneath his messy writing was your own neat handwriting.

For you and me, and for a future with us together.

Just the first date, but both of you had high hopes for each other. It was rather naive to hope for a future when it had been mere days with you two together. It was precious nonetheless. “You screamed at me that day. Called me out on vandalizing the walls.” He smiled, reaching out a hand to you. You took it and sat down beside him, leaning against the wall, icy cold but holding a vague sense of comfort. This was the first place you two planted an icon of your love together.

“Then five minutes later, I was vandalizing the wall myself” You finished. “You’re such a bad influence, Mikey”

Mikey raised his brow, “I think you’re the bad influence, Y/n. I didn’t beat the crap out of guys with only my shoes.”

You huffed, offended. “First, they were trying to harass me. Second, my heels were the only good weapon I had in my hand. Third, those guys were crap at fighting.”

Mikey shook his head with a laugh, “When I came to the scene, it was all over. I wanted to play the knight who saved the princess, but you didn’t let me.”

You nudged his ribs, “You played the knight several times, Mikey.”

He turned to you. You breath catching against your throat as he reaches for your hair, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath against your cheek as he held you in his arms, clutching to you as if you were his lifeline. You didn’t blame him. He lost so many people in his life, you knew how much he loved the people around him. Toman wasn’t his treasure. The people in the gang were his treasure. “Where to, next?” You asked, your voice muffled against his black jacket.

He pushed away, “To a certain street sweet shop”

Ah right, you thought as he started walking towards the busy streets of Shibuya. Both of you looked around, taking in the busy lifestyles around you. There was that feeling again, you were detached from the world when you’re with him. It was just him and you, and your hands brushing together as you walked by. You’re going to miss this. You stopped in front of the shop. The pleasant aroma of different types of street food caught your nose. Your mouth waters at the smell. This was the best shop.

Taiyaki sizzled loudly on pains, turning into a golden colour. Mikey’s eyes were firmly planted on them as he ordered two fish shaped cakes, handing one to you. “I will never get sick of this” He spoke through a mouthful of his own.

You kicked his shin playfully, biting into your own. The soft cake melts inside your mouth. “Of course you aren't going to. You stole mine one day!”

Ironically, it wouldn’t be wrong if someone said Taiyaki brought you two together. You two met at this shop. He with his delinquent friends crowded around him, you with your school squad with you. It was a summer evening and there was only one Taiyaki left. You ordered first, but he being the spoiled brat, took it from the man, dropped some coins and dashed out of the shop. You would’ve let it go, but it was your Taiyaki. You dashed after him, ignoring the cries of your friends and the grins of his friends. You chased him down to the river bank where he stood, chomping down on the Taiyaki like a madman.

“I took it first and I paid for it.” He countered, snapping off your thoughts. “I own it, Y/n. I’m no stealer”

“No” You find yourself childishly arguing back, “I ordered it first. You stole it.”

“It’s not stealing when you pay for it.”

“And how are you coming to that conclusion?” You chomped down on your own Taiyaki furiously, getting drowned in crumbs as the crispy sweet crunched at your harsh actions.

“It’s a thing because I say so” Mikey grinned with satisfaction at his argument.

You frowned but kept chewing harshly, as if to offend him. It was a thing with Mikey, you can be childish and at the next moment you could act like mature adults. “You look like you want to bite my face off” He commented, finishing off his and dropping the paper slip into the trash bin.

“I’m afraid I would '' You countered, imitating his actions and looking dusting your hands. The crumbs fell to the floor.

“You’re a messy eater, Y/n” He said, reaching his hands and wiping the corner of your cheek, your eyes lingering against each other for a second longer. “Usually I’m the messy one. Good to have a change of roles” He dropped a kiss on your hair, nuzzling his nose on your head.

“You lovebirds are blocking the door!" the shop owner yelled. But the smile on his face was inevitable. They were regulars at his shop and he had seen both of them grow into lovers from rivals to friends.

“Sorry!” Mikey called out with a slight wave as they both exited the shop. It was like a walk down memory lane. From one thing to another. Shibuya was your love story. Everywhere were scattered memories of your love. “Remember that bench?” Mikey said, gesturing towards a metal bench under a bare Sakura tree.

“We shared my lunch together under that tree” You said, tilting your head as a slight flush reached your cheeks.

Mikey grinned, “You accidentally came to school on a Saturday.”

“Shut it” You huffed, marching to the opposite lane. You knew where you would end up if you just continued to walk. It was another place you made memories. The place you made most of your memories. Mikey skipped a few steps before reaching you.

The river bank was colder than you expected it to be. The wind rushed through your hair as you breathed in the cold air around you. Mikey sat down, patting the grass beside him for you to sit. You slid to the ground and drew your knees to your chest, looking out at the water, overlapping with waves in a soundless muttering. This is where you two came when you needed to talk. The time didn’t matter. You two had midnight talks with each other spilling the insecurities. Somedays, it was just to stay in silence. Nevertheless, this was your happy place. It was the same from all the dangers or reality. A place lost in time.

“Shibuya is going to be a nightmare after you leave” Mikey was laying on the grass, a hand dropped behind his head as he stared into nothingness. “Everywhere I go, it’s memories of you and me. Tiny specks of moments we shared.”

You hummed, “America is going to be even lonelier. No memories. Everything is going to be new and foriegn. Even the people. I’m kinda scared, maybe even terrified, Mikey”

He turned your head and stared at you, “I don’t want to break up, Y/n.”

It was getting dark, you noticed. The sun had already set through the horizons. The stars, one by one came into view, sliding away the darkness with a speck of comfort. The lamp posts on the streets glowed in a healthy yellow breaking through the black night. “Even if we’re going to be away, we’ll be staring at the same sky, watching the same stars each night.” You were talking nonsense, but you did not want to stop. “Mikey, let’s try. I don’t want to let you go either.”

His lips quirked upwards into a soft smile, “Yeah, we should try. You can always come home to me, Y/n. If things get tough out there, you always have a place right here” He said, tapping his finger against his heart. “Don’t be scared. Just be the badass girl you are, they’re going to be terrified”

You let out a surprised laugh, “Terrified enough to send me back home?”

He shrugged, “Worth a try” There was that, his childish tone you adore. You loved him for the man he is. The childish yet mature person. The one you can confide all your secrets to. The one who holds out his hand for you when things get tough. There was no way to let go. You were committed, both of you were. That was love for you. He sat down and turned to you. His dark eyes are watching you intently. “Call me?”

“Every night, I promise” You assured, taking his hands. “Wait for me, Mikey. I’ll be back. If you can wait-”

“I will wait.” He said, cutting you off. He drew closer to you, “There’s always a home with me for you. I promise”

You closed your eyes as you felt tears threatening against them. Love was a series of promises and words. It could be the simple moment you shared with him tonight under a sky filled with stars. For you, love was him and him alone. “I love you” your whispered words were carried by the wind into the night.

“I love you too, Y/n” He said, connecting your lips. Your lips danced together as he pulled you close. The world didn’t matter. His warm hold, cocooning you in mattered more. Your arms held him tightly, lips exploring each other’s warmth and comfort. When you pushed away he pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to miss this. I’m going to miss you, Y/n”

You nodded, unable to form words. You’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him. Your universe. Your guidance to your place called home.

"But I can see the stars from America

I wonder, do you see them too?"

#Mikey x Reader #Tokyo Revengers #Sano Manjiro #xreader #female reader #tokyo manji gang #song fic #Tr #fanfic #slight angst #Sano Manjiro x Reader #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey

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penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Daisies (a short “anyone you want it to be with” story) Part III

part I | part II | my masterlist

Third part of this mini series. Things seem to be going for the better @avenirdelight ;) Thanks or all the lovely comments I have gotten, and I hope you will enjoy this one as well. Please, like it, reblog it (this is very important, not only to me but to other writers as well) and tell me what you think (anons you are always welcome.) 🌼

No matter how many memories one person creates in their life, only a handful of them stick to one’s brain like no other, building a colourful storybook of scenes that we love and cherish, and to which we go back to when we are happy or sad, scared or lonely or as we lay in our beds – alone with the universe in the silence of the night.

Every page and every section of the particular storybook has its deeper meaning to each individual; it carries a certain weight or a message, and we can label them with a year, a month and a day; sometimes even time.

In his own storybook, somewhere between the memories of his first kiss and the first goal he had scored as a professional footballer, there is a page – crumpled and ruffled around the edges. Read many times – over and over again.

A rainy Tuesday in October.

Cold, whistling wind, miserable sky, and with rain bathed umbrellas.

Soaked socks in fashionable trainers. People walking faster than usual along the streets, hopping over puddles – arms hugging the coats and jackets tighter.

Monochrome painted clouds, like a paper soaked in watercolours. With condensation smudged windshield screen.

The memory of meeting her for the first time – crystal clear and omnipresent like a rerun of the movie he had watched many times before, but is never able to get enough from the story line.

He remembers being happy to get away from the weather and the rain that was washing away all the dirt from the streets, and although it took him just five quick steps from where he had parked his car to his teammate’s doors, as he stepped under the covered porch, his shoulders were soaked and he had few droplets of rain sliding down from the tip of his nose.

Vivid.

Every movement and every sound; the amount of shoes in the corner of the hallway when he opened the doors to let himself in, as he did many times before. The smell of coffee and food, rich and hearty at the same time, wrapping its arms around his nostrils as he shrugged of his parka.

The loud sound of the doors as they closed by itself; his name being called above the loud chatter and music. The banter that kept going as he walked in on a group of familiar and unfamiliar faces, shapes and silhouettes.

A lazy scratch of his hand along the back and the head of his mate’s dog.

First glance towards her.

Dressed in a thick jumper, black jeans and daises-patterned socks, she was leaning against the kitchen island that divided the two equally modern rooms – a wooden spoon in her hand.

Smile on her face as she looked back at him after saying something to one of the unfamiliar faces.

Did he expect a different reaction? Yes. Did he expect her to shy away as many girls have before when they realised who he was? As vain it sounded, yes.

She didn’t.

“Come,” she said with a smile, beckoning him over, “I want you to taste something.”

Confused, he remembers racking his brain for something – a name to put together with a picture; a voice.

“Do we know each other? Are you…?”

“No, and probably not,” she grinned, stepping behind the sleek stovetop, “it’s a bit sad that we don’t know each other, but that’s good, because I need someone neutral here.” She took a clean spoon from the container before passing it out to him, and he mimicked her moves, looking down at the red liquid that simmered in the large pot in front of them. “Try, and tell me if something’s missing. Salt? Acidity? Something else? You dress like you know what you’re doing, so I trust you more than I trust that bellend in that ridiculous Gucci labelled shirt,” she spoke louder, looking at his teammate with a silly smirk.

He glanced at her face as she rambled away before looking down in the pot again – the red sauce looking as inviting as it smelled, and with a shrug, he scooped some of it before trying it.

Savoury and a bit sour and with just a hint of something he couldn’t put his finger on. It tasted like knowledge, patience, love, and above all, it tasted like home.

Word by word, laughter after laughter.

Another scoop, another bite, a grind of pepper above his plate before she sat next to him at the long dining table.

Breadcrumbs on his lap.

“Memories are dangerous things. You turn them over and over, until you know every touch and corner, but still you'll find an edge to cut you,” said Mark Lawrence, and whenever he finds himself going back to that rainy Tuesday in October, he cuts himself on the edge of the memory over and over again, and the realisation of his actions hurts him more than the relieved moment.

That day, he should have fallen in love with her.

He was known to be a talkative man, but this time he was an observer.

As he quietly sits in front of his laptop, he feels the knot in his throat tighten ever so slightly with every passing second of a video-call to which he was invited to, just a week prior.

A sleepless week filled with either thinking, wondering or regretting yet another night he spent sleeping with a girl that liked roses more than she liked daisies.

Smiles, happy nods, and laughter.

A gasp, with disbelief laced ‘what’s’, and a string of ‘my God’s’; shake of the head.

He wants to speak, wants to engage in the conversation, and to show that he cares, that he misses her more than he thought he ever would; so much that he it scares him sometimes. As he wipes his sweaty palms against his trousers, he wonders when did something that usually came natural to him became more difficult than anything else.

Because he feels guilty for not answering her calls and messages for the past few weeks? Because he knows that once the call is over, the melancholy will knock on the doors to keep the company to the sadness of knowing that she is miles away?

He doesn’t know the answer, but he feels it.

So he stays quiet and listens to her as she talks, watches her move her hands around as she speaks about her new home, the nature and the weather, her noisy neighbours, and the new bicycle she has bought at the local market.

He stays quiet, like a passerby, insignificant and tucked away in some kind of a daydream as she shows them painting she has found in the basement of the house she is renting, and he stays quiet when she expresses a wish to get herself a cat.

She seems happy.

Happier than when she still was around him.

Relaxed and liberated.

Healed.

Away from the heartbreak he had caused.

Once again, he finds himself wiping his hands against his trousers, and without looking away from the screen, he reaches out to take a sip of his coffee. The burn on his tongue stops his train of thoughts and he slams the mug against the desk – liquid slushing over the lip of the container and drips down on the wooden surface, creating a small pool of brown liquid.

A profanity that leaves his mouth stops the happy chatter – he never liked swearing out loud, and as soon as it happens, all eyes are on him. He feels naked, stripped of everything; uneasy and anxious – as if he was running for the goal during an important match.

“You okay?” she asks, but he doesn’t know what to say. Her voice is soft, filled with compassion.

He looks at her, and for the first time since she left, he lets himself believe that he still had the chance; that there was something; one single ember that refuses to die down.

But he knows he needs to say something.

Was this the most important match in his life?

Was he running for the opponents goal or is he about to auto-goal himself?

“When can I visit?” he asks as he puts a smile on his face, leaning back in his chair.

The silence; thick, knife-cutting silence.

His friends look at him, confusion and surprise written all over their faces.

But not hers.

She’s smiling at him, and he feels his heart fill with hope.

“Whenever you want.”

Part IV

tags: @rosie7703, @emwritesfootball, @avenirdelight, @alexajanecollins, @afootballimagines, @footballcloud , @englishfairylights @footballerimaginess , @footballxwrites, @just-imagines, @emwritesfootball, @macybeckham7, @hnrfc

if i forgot someone, let me know, or if you want to be tagged, also let me know...

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prolestariwrites · 3 years

Text

Triple Play

➔Fandom: Resident Evil ➔Rating: Explicit ➔Characters: Chris Redfield, Jill Valentine, Carlos Oliveira

➔Summary: Chris and Jill have been partners for years, but he never actually considered her a woman before. When he finds out more about her dating life than he ever wanted to know, it starts to make him re-evaluate his own (lack of) love life. Beta read by @solynacea.

My first RE fic, and of course it’s a smut oneshot! Hope you all like it. It’s also on AO3, so visit me there!

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Chris remembers that Jill is a woman about two years after Raccoon City. They are finishing up a briefing and looking forward to a few days off when Capriotti makes a joke about Jill wearing lipstick. He hadn’t noticed himself, and turns his head to see that she is, indeed, wearing some color of pink on her lips. She’s also wearing eye makeup, subtle but there, and a shimmering top under her jacket. He guesses he didn’t pay close enough attention earlier, just acknowledging her when she arrived and launching into the gains they’d made until the meeting wrapped up.

Capriotti cracks a joke about a hot date, and Jill replies slyly, “Don’t you know it.”

Chris frowns as the others guys laugh. “Who is it?” Capriotti pushes.

“Yeah, I asked you out like five times,” Sami complains.

Jill makes a face. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“It’s not?” Capriotti howls, half laughing and half in shock. “You’re not serious!”

“You afraid I’m getting more pussy than you?” she jokes.

The group continues to laugh but Chris tunes out. Jill is…? Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but how didn’t he know? Should he have known? He wishes he didn’t know now.

He gives her a little signal as the group heads out and she walks over to where he stands at the head of the table. “What’s up?” she asks.

“Uh…” Chris clears his throat, looking up to check and make sure the rest are gone. “I was just wondering… I mean, I didn’t know you were a lesbian.”

Jill’s eyes go wide and then she bursts out laughing. “Are you kidding me? I was just messing with those guys.”

“Okay. Not that you couldn’t be. I was just surprised you hadn’t mentioned it.”

Chris’s face is hot but Jill just shrugs. “Not like we have time to date. Or talk about dating. I guess it never came up.” She laughs again and shakes her head. “But no, I’m not a lesbian. If I change my mind, though, you’ll be the first to know.”

She’s teasing him, he can tell that much, but he stammers a bit as he asks, “So, who are you seeing? Someone I know?”

“Yes, actually,” she replies, with a little grin. “Carlos Oliveira.”

“Oliveira?” Chris repeats, his brows drawing together. “The guy from Raccoon City? The Umbrella guy?”

“He’s not the Umbrella guy,” Jill corrects. “But yes, him. He’s with the UN now doing anti-terrorism work. And we actually both have time off together for once, so I’m spending it with him.”

Chris nods, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. “Didn’t realize you had stayed in touch.”

She gives a shrug. “We see each other when we can. I like him. He’s not at all like most of the guys I meet. They either want to see Miss Badass become their sex slave or want me to step on their balls.”

He goes red again at the idea. “What?”

“You know what I mean. But Carlos just wants me. It’s refreshing.” She tilts her head for a second, considering him. “You should have some fun while we have a few days off. Go out on a date or something.”

“I date,” he argues. Jill gives him a look that shows she definitely doesn’t believe that at all, so he hurries to clarify, “Plus, like you said, we don’t have time for it.”

She pats him on the arm and turns for the door. “Anything else? I have reservations.”

“No, but does that mean we’re not meeting Tuesday?” he asks.

Jill shoots him a look over her shoulder. “No, we’re not meeting on Tuesday. I’m on vacation. As are you. So no check-in this week. Plus,” she adds with a grin, “if I’m lucky, I won’t be able to walk by then.”

He makes a face, and she laughs as she heads out the door. The room is blessedly silent, but that leaves Chris with his thoughts, which are now filled with Jill on a date and that is just too weird for him. So he picks up his stuff and heads out, hurrying back to his apartment.

Yet all the way up the elevator his brain can’t stop thinking. Jill, and that guy? His partner Jill, Jill who could shoot a zombie right between the eyes at twenty yards, Jill who was the only one on the team who didn’t throw up in the sewer when they were chasing a monster that had been mutated with three different virus strains? Jill. Dating Carlos.

Chris had met him, of course, after Raccoon City. The second he had gotten word of what went down, he caught the first flight back to the States to find the rest of S.T.A.R.S. Hearing that his sister had headed that way only made his panic worse, so when he arrived at the Red Cross encampment, he was only able to stay long enough to find out that almost everyone was dead before he was getting pulled to go work. Jill had seemed fine, shaken and exhausted but okay, and she had introduced him to Carlos, saying he had saved her. But Chris’ eyes went immediately to the red and white emblem on his shoulder, and barely heard another word as he promised to check in once he got a hold of Claire.

That guy? It’s so hard to picture. He’s not even Jill’s type. Jill’s type is…

Chris draws a blank. She’s mentioned dating before, right? He frowns as the elevator slows. Maybe, maybe not? But he knows for sure she’d never go for that type, the tall-dark-and-handsome or whatever. Too cliche.

Why do you care? his brain scoffs. Not like he’s interested, which he is not. Chris clears his throat, thinking that’s even weirder. Jill is… Jill. Not a sister really, not like Claire, because he doesn’t have the undeniable instinct to protect her at any cost. He doesn’t need to, because Jill can do fine on her own. Jill is his buddy. His partner. His pal. So why do you care?

“I don’t,” he says aloud, as the elevator doors open.

There are two agents on the other side who give him a funny look, and he sheepishly steps around them. He heads to his apartment in the officers’ building, relieved when he’s finally inside. Almost two weeks off, maybe a bit more if the world doesn’t end and they aren’t needed back immediately, and Chris decides he’s going to enjoy it. He’s going to relax and do some reading and… something. He’s got two weeks to figure it out.

Go out on a date or something.

He huffs at that as he moves around his kitchen, making some pasta. Date who? Nobody on the team, and everyone else is either under him or over him, so it’s all too awkward. There is the staff at the agency who keep the machine working, and he remembers Lisa from lab reception. “See? I date,” he says to the empty apartment. He had taken Lisa out to dinner after she had dropped some subtle hints at being interested, like “Do you want to get dinner sometime?” Chris grins smugly at himself as he stirs macaroni. The relationship didn’t really go anywhere after a few months; too hard to be away for days or weeks at a time, even though Lisa was good-natured about it. She was sweet in bed too, but not exactly his style. “I date,” he says again, as if to confirm.

The pasta and sauce are ready so he takes his bowl to the living room to find a game to watch. This is how you enjoy a vacation, he decides. Feet up, comfort food, America’s pastime on television. He sinks into the cushions as the third inning starts, feeling satisfied. Better this than getting all dolled up to go out, get sweaty, and meet someone for a night that goes nowhere.

Yet all that thinking about Jill and Carlos and Lisa has made him realize it has been a while. A real long while, and when he puts aside his empty bowl his mind starts to wander. His hand rubs against his crotch, soothing the erection growing underneath his sweats, and he thinks about Lisa. Lisa with the blond curls and the little dimple on her left ass cheek. She liked him on top, but he pictures her on his lap, dragging her fingers through his hair. It’s her hand that is fisting his cock, and Chris lets go a grunt as he lifts his hips to tug the waistband down enough to free it, giving in to the fantasy.

He sighs and tilts his head back, almost feeling her hair brushing his face as she strokes him boldly. But Lisa was never exactly bold in bed, so when he opens his mind’s eye it’s not her, but Jill on his lap. She’s wearing a t-shirt pulled too tight over her chest, and when his free hand reaches out to grab onto her hip, he realizes she’s wearing nothing else.

Jill says his name with her signature smirk before kissing him, and in his confusion he accepts. His hand moves faster, the end inevitable now, and he wonders how her lean body would feel against his, so much tighter and stronger than Lisa’s soft little self. His fingers dig into his thigh just as they would dig into her hip and he comes, pleasure sharp and intense and unexpected as it runs down his fingers.

Chris opens his eyes, breathing heavily as he shakes himself back to reality. “What the fuck?” he laughs, sitting up slowly to reach for the box of tissues. He might as well be in goddamn eighth grade, getting lost in a vivid daydream like that and not having the sense to prep for cleanup. What the hell is wrong with him?

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Four days later, Chris is bored. A guy like him who is used to action doesn’t do well without anything to keep him occupied. He works out and goes shopping and works out some more, but after going down to the bar around the corner for a drink and dinner, he realizes that vacation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And it’s too late now to call Claire and invite her somewhere, especially since she’s in California or something.

He needs to get out of this rut, so Chris makes a decision. He sends an email to the team and invites everyone over for poker the next night. He grins as one acceptance after another comes through, jokes ranging from Captain? You dying or something? to Get your money ready, making him chuckle. But then he is surprised when Jill emails him too: I’d love to come, alright if I bring Carlos?

It’s fine, he answers back, but what happened to not being able to walk?

It takes a full five minutes to get an answer back, and Chris smirks to himself at being able to surprise Jill Valentine. But eventually she does answer: I’m a girl of many talents. Damn her.

The next night is plenty fun. He splurges on the good beer and even an excellent bottle of bourbon, figuring if he can’t spend his salary on booze, what else is there? Peterson brings cigars and there are eight of them that wind up playing, including Carlos, who fits right in with the group well enough that Chris can pretty much ignore him and the way his hand sits on Jill’s thigh.

They play a few rounds but they end up talking more than looking at cards, so the game evolves into a proper party of drinking and stories. Chris orders pizza and when it arrives, the crowd gathers in his kitchen to eat and he realizes Jill is missing. He heads down the hallway to check the bathroom but finds it empty. So is his office, and curious, he pokes his head into the bedroom. That’s also empty, but he hears something in the master bath, and without even thinking he walks through the room and opens the door.

Chris finds them alright. Carlos is fucking her against his sink, their arms locked around one another, her shirt pushed up and her jeans dangling from one knee and his jeans in a puddle around his ankles. He comes to a stop as his eyes go wide, watching in a weird moment of frozen time, noticing how they’ve knocked over his little container of cotton swabs and that the mirror is steamed up from their breath. Then Jill gives a yelp that shakes him back to present, and he gets a quick glance of Carlos’ dick pulling out of her flushed folds before yelling, “Shit, sorry!” and promptly closing the door.

He is sure his face is red when he returns to the others, but they must assume it’s the alcohol because no one says anything. Jill and Carlos join them a few minutes later, and he feels distracted, not because of what they were doing, but because he is oddly curious if they finished or not.

The evening winds down and everyone helps clean up a bit before they say their goodbyes, and somehow he ends up alone with Jill and Carlos as the only ones left. “Let me help you with this stuff,” she says, and he notes the blush on her cheeks as she fills her arms with empty bottles and cups and walks to the kitchen.

Chris is about to go after her when Carlos pats him on the arm. “Hey, man,” he says. “Sorry about earlier.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jill reappears, laughing and shaking her head. “That was not the right place or time.”

“Didn’t think anyone would catch us if we snuck off,” Carlos offers, laughing too. “You scared the hell out of us though.”

“Sorry.” Chris chuckles, thinking that this should be awkward and glad that it’s not. “Hey, at least the place saw some action. Not like there’s a lot going on in that department.”

He gives another laugh, but the other two don’t find the humor. “Don’t say that,” Carlos replies. “Guy like you is probably beating the girls off with a stick.”

“Not exactly,” Chris says. He pushes a chair under the table to cover his embarrassment. “But really, it’s fine.”

“I take full responsibility.” Carlos puts a hand up as if swearing an oath. “It was all my idea. I just can’t keep my hands off her.”

“Carlos!” Jill scolds, holding her forehead in her hand.

He points at her with a grin. “Hey, it’s not my fault. You’re fucking gorgeous. And your ass in those jeans? I mean what is a man supposed to do with that?” He turns to Chris with a smile. “I mean, you know what I mean, right man?”

“Chris doesn’t think like that,” Jill teases. “He is too respectful.”

“Well you’re disrespectful in those jeans.”

“Carlos.”

“I don’t,” Chris interjects. They both turn from their fun to look at him, and he hurries on, “I mean, think that way about Jill.”

Carlos makes a face. “What? Are you telling me you two never…?”

“Never!” laughs Jill.

“I’m surprised,” he says. “I wouldn’t be able to do a thing if I looked at her all day.”

Chris shrugs. “Sorry. I just never thought of her like that.” He glances over, surprised that she is frowning. “What? Are you mad or something?”

“No,” she protests. “But you didn’t have to be so adamant about it.”

He opens his mouth to argue before he remembers that he did, in fact, think of Jill that way, just the other day, not three feet from where they were all standing. “So you want me to then?” he laughs.

Jill rolls her eyes. “I don’t care if you do or not. All I’m saying is that if you did, you wouldn’t have to be ashamed of it.”

Chris clears his throat. “We’re partners. Not exactly appropriate.”

She sighs and walks towards him, her arms folded. “Chris, when are you gonna get over bullshit like what’s appropriate? We spend our whole lives fighting biological weapons, killing monsters, saving people. Every single day. We leave here on each mission not knowing if we’re coming back. Not knowing who is going to get infected or shot or bitten, if you’re going to have to pull the trigger or if I am.” Jill is standing in front of him now, barely an inch away, and he searches her face, wondering when this turned serious. “So when I’m not killing monsters and hunting people who want to see me dead or worse, I’m going to do what I want. I’m not spending the time I do have worrying about what’s appropriate. And if I want to have sex with someone, then I’m going to fucking have sex.”

He gives a huff, not quite a laugh, not sure what she’s trying to say. “I understand,” he replies.

“Do you?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I did think about you like that. Jerked off to it too.”

The words are out before he can stuff them back in, and his eyes go wide the second they are released. Panic rises in his throat for the longest second of his life as Jill’s mouth opens in an O of surprise; but then she smiles and presses her palms to his chest. “Did you really?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he chokes out.

Jill then does the last thing he expects. She leans up and kisses him, pressing her mouth firmly on his, one of her hands moving to cup the back of his neck. She should be slapping him or something, calling their supervisor, maybe shooting him? But instead she tilts her head and gives his lower lip a little bite, and a split second later he puts his arms around her waist and pulls her against him.

Her mouth opens and his follows suit. Her tongue rolls into his mouth, sliding along his, sending a little thrill up his spine. Chris realizes he had been right; she feels nothing like anyone else, her body somehow both solid and light as he presses her firmly to him.

Jill breaks the kiss suddenly, and he stares at her in shock as she blinks up at him. “Is this okay?” she asks.

Chris is about to answer when she looks to the side, and he realizes she’s talking to Carlos. He gives a start, releasing his grip; how did he forget Carlos was standing there and watching? The guy will deck him for sure.

Carlos nods, a little smile on his face. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

A million and one questions instantly flood his mind but her mouth is on his again, and Chris can’t deny the absolutely undeniable pull she has. Jill has always been like this, hasn’t she? Like a rocket, or an anchor, or a little beacon that pulses and makes people shut up and listen.

Which is what he should be doing now instead of listing adjectives in his head. “Sit,” she says, and Chris realizes she’s pulled him to the couch. Her hands push his shirt up and he helps her remove it before he sits, and Jill steps between his legs, leaning down to slide her touch along his arms.

“You good?” she asks, and her concern is almost touching.

“Yeah,” he replies.

He watches with great interest as she unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, pulling her underwear down with them. Chris’ heart beats faster to see her slim thighs that curve up into perfect hips, his favorite part of a woman. Her stomach is flat with the hint of muscle underneath, her waist tiny and trim and making him start to get hard before his eyes even fall to the place between her thighs. As if she knows, Jill presses her hand against her sex, rubbing herself as she climbs onto his lap.

Her knees straddle him and she reaches for her shirt, but Chris stops her. This is it, his fantasy that he had conjured, and he takes a minute to just enjoy Jill Valentine half naked on his lap and the tight anticipation of what her chest is going to look like bare and what she is going to feel like sliding onto his dick. His hands press against her thighs and he slides them up, tracing the path his eyes took over hips and stomach and waist until he grazes the underside of her bra.

Jill shifts on his lap and Chris catches sight of Carlos. He is leaning against the table where they played cards on the other side of the room, just watching, his hand rubbing himself on the outside of his jeans. And fuck is that hot, knowing he’s watching and enjoying as he gets ready to fuck his girlfriend—what the fuck is wrong with him? He’s not this kind of guy, he doesn’t do kinky shit like this, he doesn’t get off on having sex in front of people or fucking his partner or having sex without at least buying dinner first and the pizza didn’t count at all.

“Hey,” Jill murmurs, tilting his chin up. “You still with me?”

“We really doing this?” he asks stupidly.

She snorts. “Yeah. If you want to.”

Fuck-shit-damn yes he wants to, his cock is like steel now at the very idea. He wants to do this. He wants to give up control and hand it over, stop playing by rules that don’t work and write some of his own. He wants to stop being in charge for one night and let someone else make decisions, wants to follow instead of lead, wants to be anyone other than Chris Redfield, special agent. He wants to fuck the girl every man wants as her boyfriend watches, and that nearly short circuits his thinking.

So maybe it’s not such a surprise that he says the dumbest sentence ever uttered, one that later he’ll think about and want to kick his own ass. “But you’ve already had sex tonight.”

Carlos chuckles from where he stands and Jill laughs along, stroking his cheek. “I got a special dispensation from the president,” she says, before sealing her mouth on his in a kiss.

She is cool and light against him, and Carlos was right, her ass is perfect. He grips her backside and squeezes as she grinds on his lap. Jill groans into his mouth and Chris realizes it’s because she’s rubbing herself against his erection, pressing up in a hard tent at the front of his jeans. Her fingers stroke against his shoulders and down his chest, running through the hair there and tracing along his pecs until they move lower, outlining his abdominals. She rolls her hips again and again and he can feel her getting his jeans wet, or maybe that’s him? Either way, he lets go of her long enough to open them, needing the relief more than ever.

Jill moves up on her knees to let him slide his pants down his hips, and she uses the opportunity to pull her t-shirt off over her head. Now she is left in only her bra, a lacy red thing that is so opposite of everything he knows about her that he can only stop and stare. He reaches up to carefully pull one cup down to expose her pink nipple, rubbing his thumb against the hard bud.

There is moisture leaking from the tip of his cock, and Jill uses it to stroke him, her hand tight as she pumps his length with quick, firm movements. Chris leans forward to lick her nipple, then presses his lips to her body, sucking lightly. Someone like her, would she even like the normal stuff? But she sighs in response, her other hand pressing to the back of his head to keep him there, and Chris uses his teeth and tongue to tease her until she is rubbing her sex against his.

Jill gives a groan, and he looks up to see that Carlos has moved behind her. He cups her chin up and to the side, his curls falling a bit to cover their kiss. Chris freezes momentarily, but then Carlos pulls away with a playful bite to her lip. “Does he feel good?” he murmurs.

“I can’t wait anymore,” Jill pants.

Carlos reaches into his pocket and pulls out a condom, handing it to her between two fingers. Jill snatches it and smiles at Chris as she tears it open, and he leans back on the couch, pressing his hands to the cushion. He watches in a sort of daze as she rolls it down his length, anticipation tightening his stomach as she leans up and angles him against her body before finally sinking down around him.

Chris lets out a hiss of pleasure as he throws his head back. Jill’s mouth is hot on his neck as she works to take him in, but with her slick body and the lubricated condom he slips inside with little trouble. She squeezes tightly around him, nearly taking his ability to breathe, before she pulls back and braces her hands on his shoulders.

When she starts to move, he risks a peek, groaning as the sight of her sends a jolt of excitement straight through his cock. Carlos is kissing her shoulder, undoing her bra and pulling it down her arms to toss it away before he grabs her bare breasts. She reaches up one arm to wrap around his neck as the other digs hard into Chris’ shoulder, and he watches in rapt attention as she fucks him while Carlos fondles her chest, delivering open mouthed kisses along her neck. Chris reaches up and presses his hands to her waist, dragging them over her hips as his eyes go downwards and giving another groan when his gaze falls on where they are joined, his cock disappearing in between her lips.

Jill stops the roll of her hips momentarily, keeping him buried inside of her, and he can feel her nearly pulsing around him. “She’s close,” Carlos says roughly, and Chris’ eyes snap up to his when he realizes he’s talking to him.

“Already?” he pants. Carlos nods, and Chris huffs a laugh. “So am I.”

Jill grins, opening her eyes as she bites her lower lip. “Can’t let this end too fast.”

She pushes off of him to stand, and Chris swallows a protest, his cock bobbing when it is released. But Jill grabs his pants and pulls them down his legs, and once they are removed she kneels on the carpet, carefully pulling the condom away. “I bet you taste delicious,” she says, and his eyes nearly roll back into his head when she lowers her lips onto his length.

Jill sucks him hungrily, making his head spin. Chris jerks upwards into her mouth, but fists his hands into the couch to let her work. Behind her, Carlos has pulled out his own cock and is stroking it freely, watching with dark, hooded eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he groans before going down on his knees.

As Carlos pushes her thighs apart and pulls her hips upwards, her moan vibrates along his cock as she swallows him completely. Her eyes squeeze shut as she sucks for as long as she can before coming up for breath, panting against his wet length as Carlos starts to fuck her from behind. “Slow,” she pants, and Carlos instantly eases his pace. Her eyes meet Chris’ and stay there as she rolls her tongue around the head of his cock; then she is swallowing him again, the sensation nearly driving him mad with desire. It strikes him that he never understood before why someone would want it like this, least of all a woman, finding porn like this vulgar and strange: but now he realizes that it’s because she’s in control, with two men ready to worship her body, and Chris is willing to give her anything in this moment.

Soon he is close again, and he hisses her name. Jill pulls off and grips his cock, stroking him quickly as her mouth drops down to press her tongue against his sac. Carlos starts to move faster, drawing a whine from Jill’s throat, and when she shudders against him, Chris realizes she’s coming. It sends him right over the edge, his body tightening almost painfully before his seed spills out in a great spurt that she quickly moves her mouth to swallow. Carlos holds her firmly by the waist as she trembles, but Chris can only focus on her lips sliding along his cock in time with the pulsing that rocks deeply through him. He lifts his hips to push in further with the final waves of pleasure, and Jill swallows him with a sigh that she releases when he finally slides his cock from her mouth.

Carlos pulls her closer to him, and he muffles a groan against her shoulder as he jerks his hips. Jill looks up at Chris, their eyes locking as she licks her lips, and Chris swallows thickly, knowing Carlos is finishing inside of her. His erection is softening, but not nearly as fast as it usually does, and when she turns her face to kiss Carlos and he watches her tongue slide into his mouth, his cock jerks uncomfortably.

She laughs a bit when Carlos finally releases her. “Damn,” Carlos sighs, rubbing her arms. “So fucking hot. Told ya, man.”

He is grinning at Chris, who nods, rubbing the palm of his hand on his forehead. “Yeah,” he agrees lamely.

It feels so damn awkward now, but the other two don’t seem fazed, climbing to their feet as they chuckle together. Carlos yanks up his jeans before grabbing Jill, pulling her into a deep kiss as Chris looks up and watches. He remembers how he couldn’t believe they’d be together just days ago, and now he knows what an absolute idiot he is.

“Carlos and I are driving down the coast tomorrow,” Jill says, turning to look at him as Carlos kisses her neck. “Do you want to come? Spend a few days on the beach?”

“With you two?” he asks stupidly. Carlos lifts his head and Chris holds up a hand. “Yeah. Dumb question. Sorry.”

He stands awkwardly, wanting to put on some clothes, but Jill slides her hand over his hip. “Well? Do you want to come?”

The question makes his neck heat, and he nods. “Sure. Why not.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

They banter a bit as they get dressed, Chris just listening as he tries to figure out what to say. He spots the condom on the floor and quickly picks it up, and when he returns from throwing it away Carlos is at the door, grabbing his jacket. “Hey,” Jill says, stepping up to press her hand on his chest, just like she had before. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Chris answers. “I’m fine.”

“Be ready by ten.” Then she gives him a wink and they head out the door, Carlos slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gives a wave.

The door shuts behind them, leaving the apartment in silence and Chris standing with his pants half undone. “See? I have sex,” he says to the room.

#resident evil #chris redfield #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #re #fanfiction #re fanfic

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spicyteez · 4 years

Text

Birthday Present

Boyfriend Wooyoung X Fem Reader

Smut

Word Count: 5.1K

Summary: Wooyoung gives you the best birthday present you could ask for: a long night between the sheets.

Warnings: Dry humping, Oral (fem receiving), fingering, soft sex, praise, overstimulation, Wooyoung being way too sexy, unprotected sex (please be safe!) Way too many uses of different pet names

A/N: I totally did not write this because today (3/13) is my birthday! Hehe. This one is purely self indulgent because topping Woo has been a huge fantasy of mine. Thank you all for the support you’ve been giving me! :)

Soft presses of pillowy lips to your neck awoke you from your slumber, the sensation tickling your warm skin. A giggle pushed past your lips as the kisses trailed towards your upturned lips, brushing along the underside of your jaw. The lips met yours delicately, a soft pressure that left you sighing in content. Eyes fluttering open, the sight before you never failed to leave you breathless. A gorgeous grin stretched across your boyfriend's boyish face, his eyes sparkling into yours. Propping himself up better, he lowered his head to rest mere inches from yours. Warmth radiated from his being, wrapping you in his comforting presence and provided a shield against the cool morning air. "Happy birthday princess." His fingers brushed the smooth skin of your cheek tenderly and he smiled fondly when you nuzzled deeper into his hand. Humming quietly, you placed your hand atop his and rubbed your thumb over his large knuckles.

Closing the space between your bodies, he connected your foreheads. "What do you want to do today?" His hot breath mingled with yours and you stared into his sparkling orbs, watching the light dance across his irises. Brushing his nose with your own, you laced your fingers with his. "Anything. As long as it's with you."

His eyes crescented as his handsome face pulled into a blinding grin. "I think I can arrange that." Moving together, your lips met in a sweet embrace. You giggled again when he smiled against your lips, his teeth clashing with yours in an inability to contain his happiness.

He never could hold still and soon his lips moved to to trace the curve of your jaw and the raise of your clavicles. Fingers playing with the hair at his nape, you held his face and closed your eyes, a comfortable yet drowsy feeling pulling you towards unconsciousness. "Don't fall asleep baby, you have to leave in thirty minutes."

Whining at the reminder of your shitty job, you pushed his face away and glared at him, lips pulling into a pout. Chuckling at your cute expression, he sat up and brought you with him, dodging your menacing glare. Hands grabbing your hips, he guided you to stand before him, his fingers trailing your body to rub circles into your sides. "It's a Friday baby. All you have to do is sit through eight hours of work and then you have the whole weekend to use me as you please." A mischievous smirk played across his lips, knowing just how tempting his words sounded.

You gulped at the implications of his sentence and decided that sitting through your hellish shift didn't sound so bad when he gave you that to look forward to. He waited until you turned around to get ready before patting your ass appreciatively. Laughing at the glare you halfheartedly sent him, he smiled to himself once you left him alone. Excitement bubbled in his stomach, turning his grin goofy with anticipation. That night he planned to treat you like you deserved to be treated, like the most precious piece of his life which you undoubtedly were.

Work flew by faster than expected, the multiple birthday wishes from your coworkers definitely lifted your mood. Throughout the day you found yourself daydreaming, your head flooded with sinful thoughts, distracting from your monotonous work load. The possibilities were endless, the whole night open to use as you please. You knew your needs would be met tenfold, leaving you shaking and exhausted from the dedication Wooyoung always put into making you feel amazing. Thinking back to his birthday a few months prior, you still felt an ache in your core when recalling the night of passion. He trusted you wholly, allowing you to bring him to his end over and over again. Loving caresses accompanied by gentle praises told of your adoration for him as you rode him throughout the night, milking his dripping release from his throbbing cock. Sighing at the vivid memories, you couldn't wait for the chance to give your body to him like he had given you his.

Hours felt like days, slowly ticking by until the time came to pack up your belongings and push your time card through the machine. You practically vibrated with excitement the whole drive home, missing your boyfriend's adorable laughter and endless teasing. Walking into your quaint apartment, a note on the counter accompanied by a bouquet of your favorite flowers caught your attention.

I'll be home soon, love. Happy birthday :)

- Woo

The small smiley face brought a grin to your lips, his cuteness warming your heart. Slipping off your bland work clothing, you turned on the shower and stepped into the steaming jets of water. Rinsing the stress from your body, you closed your eyes and basked in the hot water, drowning out the rest of the world.

A soft knock on the door brought you back to the present and you wiped the fog from the glass of the shower door to investigate the intrusion. Popping his head into the humid room, your boyfriend waved at you reassuringly and stepped towards the sink. Watching him wash his hands and fix his hair, you suddenly realized just how naked you were and just how hot he looked. His work enforced a professional dress code, and you secretly thanked whoever applied that rule whenever he came home. A pair of tight black slacks accentuated his figure, hugging his plump ass and muscular thighs. The pristine button down shirt he wore stretched across his broad chest, the sleeves rolled up just how he knew you liked it with a great view of his strong forearms. As if he sensed your stare, he turned and leaned against the vanity with a smirk. Crossing his arms, he looked you up and down, the veins in his arms popping out to drive you insane.

"It's your birthday but it looks like I'm the one getting a present."

Rolling your eyes at his innuendo, you rubbed the soap from your body, trying to hide the blush dusting your cheeks. You certainly received no help when he bit his lip and watched intently as your hand glided over your slick breasts.

Standing from his perch against the sink, he dragged his eyes across your body one last time. "Take your time baby." Sending you a wink, he shut the door and left you to finish up.

Letting out a breath you didn't even know you held in, you leaned against the wall and tried to process whatever just happened. He never failed to leave you a mess, his mere presence reducing you to a glob of lovesick mush. Maybe one day you'd be strong enough to withstand his charms, but truthfully you loved how he knew the fastest ways to get your heart racing.

Toweling off, you forwent a bra, opting for a strappy dress with an open back to match his classy attire. Stepping out of the bedroom, you found him seated at the table with several candles lighting the room. Noticing your presence, he stood and held out his hand for you to take, pulling you close to his chest. Now that you saw the table up close, you noticed an elegant table setting and flower petals covering the tablecloth, setting a romantic mood.

He pressed his lips to your temple quickly and grinned at your questioning glance.

"What's all this?" Pulling back, you gazed up at his shining eyes.

Taking time to admire your outfit, he held your hand above your head and spun you around slowly, the silky fabric hugging your curves perfectly. "I thought you'd be tired and decided to bring the dinner to you." Glancing at you, he felt a little nervous, worried you wanted to go out.

Your heart warmed at his consideration, touched by how well he knew your wants. The week really took its toll on you and staying in sounded heavenly. "Thank you so much. It's perfect."

He smiled again, relieved by your gratitude. Tugging your hand, he led you to the table and pulled out the chair for you to sit on, pushing the wooden seat towards the table once you were seated. "You're too good to me," You joked, following him with your eyes as he walked around the table. "I don't deserve you."

Seating himself, he winked at you, replying sarcastically. "What can I say, my mother raised a gentleman." Taking your hand in his yet again, his thumb stroked the back of your palm, running over your knuckles repeatedly. Eyes softening, he looked into your warm eyes, an edge of seriousness creeping into his tone. “You deserve the entire world baby. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

Grateful for this moment of intimacy, you cherished the evening, your full attention enraptured by him. The food tasted so much better without the bustle of a crowded restaurant, the quiet atmosphere of your apartment creating the perfect mood. Your combined giggles filled the air as he recalled a story of his coworker, Mingi, stranding himself at the office for hours by accidentally locking his tie in the door. Wiping a tear of laughter away, you sunk further in your seat, grateful for the casual setting. After devouring the food, Wooyoung pushed away from the table with the excuse of visiting the restroom. Instead of doing so, however, he returned with a small chocolate cake, lit candles casting shadows upon his beaming face. A soft chorus of the traditional birthday song flowed from his lips, his angelic voice leaving you speechless. Placing the cake before you, he finished his song and waited for you to make a wish and blow out the candles, cheering when they extinguished in one breath. The rich flavor of the cake tasted heavenly on such a special occasion, the light chocolate frosting drawing a pleased hum from your lips.

Across the table, your boyfriend sat with a bit of frosting on his mouth, unaware of the dark stain on his cherry red lips. Reaching past the glasses and candles, you wiped his lip gently, collecting the chocolate on your outstretched thumb. Snapping his eyes up to meet yours, his quick tongue darted out, licking the saccharine substance from your finger. Frozen, you stared back at his dark eyes, watching as he continued to lap sensually at your thumb. Pulling away quickly, you broke eye contact and looked away, embarrassed of the sinful thoughts in your head ruining a sweet moment. Finishing your cake, you stood to gather the dishes, intending to wash them before relaxing for the night. A gentle hand on your wrist stopped you, soft eyes gazing up into yours. "Don't worry about it baby. I'll take care of it all." Nodding slowly, you grasped his hand and pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm.

"I'm going to freshen up." Nodding at you, his eyes darkened a bit, anticipation clawing at his stomach. The two of you knew exactly what came next.

Standing before the bathroom sink, you stared at your reflection intently. Come on, Y/n. You've fucked so many times, why are you suddenly nervous? Shaking your head at yourself, you splashed your face with cold water, hoping to break yourself from this trance. You knew exactly why you were so nervous, nights like there were definitely different from your normal time in bed. Sex with Wooyoung was wild and passionate, always quick and intense with mind blowing stamina. His usual style differed from the classic vanilla and you loved every bit of it, every time you fucked you never knew what to expect. But tonight would be different, all about you. On special occasions such as Valentine's day, birthdays, and anniversaries, intercourse was slow and sweet, taking as long as possible to explore each other's bodies. This slow and romantic pace felt so raw, and a twinge of nerves always hit when you thought of just how vulnerable your soul felt in his hold.

The clink of dishes quieted down, silence filling the air once he cleaned the last one. You heard the door to your shared bedroom open and shut quietly, anticipation fluttering in your stomach. Pulling the short dress over your head, you folded the delicate fabric carefully and slipped into something more comfortable. Pinning up your hair, you took one last look at your frame in the mirror, deeming yourself cute enough to face your waiting partner.

Shakily you opened the door, eyes on the floor as you stepped into the tense room. Eyes snapping up when he heard the door opening, Wooyoung scanned your frame, breath hitching as he recognized the oversized t-shirt you wore as one from his own drawer. You shifted, eyes finally looking up to take in his position at the end of the bed as well as his shaky demeanor.

The overwhelming desire to make you his took over, his manhood straining against his tight pants. Beckoning you forward, he sat up straighter and drank in your innocent appearance. A surge of confidence ran through you as you noticed the effect you had on him, the tent forming in his pants growing larger by the second. You came to him, feet sinking into the plush carpet as you stood before him in nothing but your panties and his shirt. Fingers reaching for you, he gripped your hips tightly, pulling you to rest your legs on either side of his lap, straddling him. He squeezed your hips harshly, knowing the sensitive nerves of your erogenous zone would spark pleasure within your core. Moaning softly, you watched his lips melt into a smirk, the thought of reducing you to a whimpering mess spurring him on.

Brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, he traced his finger tips down the expanse of your jaw, passing his thumb along your lower lip to tug on the delicate skin. His lips quickly replaced the digit, molding to yours in a way that left your head spinning. Caressing your lips slowly, he kissed you deeply, passion flowing from his plump lips. Your arms slowly traced the muscles in his back, supporting yourself by wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer into the slow kisses. The world faded away, his lips all you could focus on as you melted into his chest, tender touches relaxing the worry deep in your stomach. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his fingers danced along your spine, sending a delicious trail of sparks along your entire back. Continuing to explore your body, his large hands cupped your ass firmly, spreading your cheeks along with your pussy lips, the action rubbing your swollen clit against the material of your panties.

Gasping against his lips, your surprise played to his advantage, his tongue slipping past your teeth. Humming into your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours sensually, caressing the muscle while his palms continued to knead your bottom.

Bucking your hips, you found purchase on his thick bulge, the fabric along the zipper of his pants rubbing your clit perfectly. Pressing down harder, you ground into him deeply, feeling his dick twitch against your moist panties. With a groan against your lips, his hands returned to your hips, halting your actions and breaking the seal of your lips. You pouted cutely, whining when he grinned and pecked your nose sweetly.

Tugging on the bottom of the shirt covering your torso, his knuckles brushed against the soft skin above the band of your panties. "Let's get rid of this, huh, love?" Nodding eagerly, you blushed when he chuckled at your excitement. Bunching up the fabric slowly, he inched the shirt up your stomach, leaning forward to press kisses to the exposed skin. As he pulled the pesky covering higher, his lips followed, every inch of your body receiving his love. His hands were at your waist now and you giggled softly when his mouth met your ticklish belly button. Up your body he went, along the valley of your breasts, nuzzling his nose into the perky peaks before slipping the garment over your head and onto the floor. His hands came to caress your breasts, pinching your erect nipple between two fingers. Squeaking at the tug on your sensitive nub, you played with his hair and leaned your forehead against his, gazing deeply into his eyes.

"Thank you for the flowers, baby."

The corner of his lips quirked up in a shy smile, his fingers squeezing your breasts harder. "I'm glad you like them. But you're prettier than any flower." His voice dropped to a whisper, pulling you into the little world the two of you shared.

"You're so cheesy."

"You love it." He cooed.

"I do." Caressing his face tenderly, you leaned in to kiss the little mole under his eye, heart nearly bursting at the lovesick glint in his orbs.

He stood suddenly and you yelped, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. Chuckling lowly, he kissed you intensely, teeth clashing and tongues mingling. Placing you where he previously sat on the edge of the bed, he laid you down carefully, trailing his hand from your neck to your hips. Fingers nimbly unfastening the top buttons of his shirt, he loosened his tie, pulling the accessory from his neck and tossed it to the floor. With his hair disheveled from your hands and his collar popped wide open, nothing could compare to this view. Dropping to his knees before you, he hooked his arms under your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the mattress.

"Tonight is all about you baby." He purred between kisses to your inner thighs. Starting at your knees, he worked up, the sweet scent of your arousal growing stronger the further he traveled. "Fuck, you smell so good." You whimpered at his animalistic tone, wishing your fingers were running over his body the same way his touched yours.

Teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your upper thigh, he soothed your high pitched whines, tongue laving over the blossoming bruise. Hooking his thumbs in the band of your panties, Wooyoung slowly tugged the garment from your precious area, revealing your delicate petals. Your fingers dug into the sheets when his breath hit your core, holding onto the fabric akin to a lifeline. Spreading your folds reverently, his hooded eyes gazed at your pulsating walls as beads of translucent precum slid from your entrance, pooling on the silk sheets below. Tongue jutting out, he ran the muscle along your outer lips in a smooth stripe, the gentle pressure increasing the ache in your throbbing clit. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you stifled a loud moan with your hand when he pressed a kiss to your labia.

"Don't be shy baby," He taunted, nudging his nose against your swollen nub. "Let me hear your pretty sounds."

His resolve to have you moaning at his ministrations increased, his tongue darting out to slowly travel the length of your slit. Humming against your pussy, he lapped your sweetness, his own excitement growing from the taste of your juices. A strangled moan fell from your lips, his cock growing even harder from the lewd sounds you made. Continuing to please you, he kept the pace slow, worshiping your womanhood with each careful swipe of his tongue. Spreading your folds further, his tongue dove deeper into your depths, pushing past your entrance to stroke your velvety walls. Attaching his mouth to your lower lips, he sucked gently, applying pressure while trailing his tongue around your warm cavity.

Back arching off the bed, you mewled in ecstasy, his hot breath teasing your sensitive area. Loud wet noises filled the silent room, the sinful lapping of his tongue clouding your head and drawing you closer to a mind numbing high. He always bragged about his long tongue, the length coming in handy to help him reach depths in you that no one else could touch.

Suddenly he pulled away, the pleasure harshly ripped from your quaking body. Opening your eyes, you looked at his handsome face, his chin glistening with your gushing juices. Whining at the loss of sensation, you pouted at him, frowning when he laughed at your cute unhappiness.

"I'm going to use my fingers now, baby. Okay?" Gazing up at you patiently, he awaited your consent, kissing your mound tenderly.

You gave him a small smile, reaching down to brush his hair back into place. Trailing your hand to his cheek, you stroked the skin and gave him a nod of approval.

Pushing your legs further apart, he brought his hand to your clit, stroking the nub in a circular motion. With a single finger, he split your folds from base to crown and ran the digit along the length of your tender slit repeatedly. Adding another finger, he spread your wetness, swirling over your clit before tentatively inserting his fingers into your pussy. He pushed in carefully, stretching your walls further with every passing second. Clenching around the intrusion, you felt the spark reignite in your stomach, his fingers sheathed deep within your core. The tight squeeze around his fingers left him speechless, the thought of your walls caressing his cock the same way burning in his imagination. When he felt you had adjusted enough, he pulled out gently, quickly thrusting in as far as he could reach. Your body jolted, gripping the sheets again as he set a relentless pace. Hips bucking to meet his thrusts, you rutted against his fingers, hitting your pleasure spot repeatedly. A choked groan left your lips, the sensation kindling the fire burning deep within you.

"Right there?" He looked at you with a hint of smugness and you nodded enthusiastically, closing your eyes against the mounting pleasure. Pushing your hips to lay flat on the bed, his slick fingers sped up, striking the spot repeatedly. Your legs trembled, a tell tale sign of your close release. Calling out his name, you pushed away slightly. "W-woo stop!"

Pulling out quickly, his eyes met yours immediately. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Concerned for your safety, his hands ghosted over your body, checking for any signs of discomfort.

"No baby. You were perfect. I just…" looking away, you tried to hide the embarrassment tinting your cheeks. "I want you to be inside me when I cum."

Albeit cheesy, you really meant those words, wanting to feel him deep within you as you came however many times he desired you to. Turning your head to gauge his reaction, you watched him blink up at you, eyes full of lust and tenderness.

"Oh god. You're going to be the death of me princess." He groaned, hand running over the straining bulge in his slacks. Biting your lip at the sight, you watched him break down and palm himself desperately, his cock painfully hard.

Sitting up, you reach for him, bringing him close enough to press a greedy kiss to his lips. His mouth and tongue tasted like you, a foreign flavor he couldn't get enough of. Humming against his lips, you pulled him closer, melting at his tongue tangling with yours and the pedal soft texture of his lips. He pulled away before you'd had enough, mumbling against your lips almost incoherently.

"You taste so good."

Moaning against his lips, you fingered the buckle of his belt, slipping the crisp leather through the clasps and dropping the accessory to the floor. Hands pressing against his shirt clad torso, you trailed up his abdomen, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his work shirt. Your knuckles brushed his bare skin, his breath catching as you unhooked the last button and traced his abs lightly. Grasping your hands, he kissed your knuckles lightly, watching you intensely. Pushing you back onto the bed, he crawled on top of you, discarding his shirt in the process. Fingers brushing over his toned chest, you felt the taut muscles in his arms holding him up as he hovered above you. His fingers fumbled with the button of his slacks, roughly maneuvering the article down his legs and onto the floor. Next came his boxers, falling to the floor and freeing his fully erect cock to slap against his abdomen. Dipping his head, he mouthed at your neck, groaning as his length rubbed against your inner thigh. Nibbling on the tender tissue of your neck, he breathed in your scent, mumbling words of praise into your skin.

You melted into his touch, tilting your head to give him better access. His lips found your pulse point, your heart beat drumming just for him. Pressing a soft kiss to the spot, he felt your pulse, his heart swelling with gratitude for the ability to call you his.

In a second he flipped positions, rolling over to rest you atop his solid chest. Eyes wide with surprise, you gazed down at him, watching the infatuation shining brightly in his deep brown orbs. Your fingers dug into his shoulders when you felt his fingers dive into your heat, scissoring your entrance to accommodate his length. His leg hooked around yours, pulling your thighs apart, thwarting your involuntary attempt to clamp your legs shut around his hand.

Stroking your cheek lovingly, his teeth found your earlobe, shallowly sinking into the skin.

"You've done so well baby. Can you take more?" His seductive purr left you shivering, a quiet whimper of "yes" falling from your lips. He held you tighter, his gentle dominance reducing you to mush. You were so in love, a total fool for every little piece of him.

Fingers pulling out, he guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, gliding through your slick to lubricate his girthy length. Groaning in unison, you held onto each other tightly, losing yourselves in the pleasure. The angle at which you laid granted you a perfect view of his face, his features scrunched beautifully, mouth hanging open with relief from the painful hardness of his dick. With one last slide through your folds, he inserted the head of his length into your pussy, groaning from the tight squeeze. He waited for you to adjust, the tightness of your walls nearly bringing him to his end already. Pushing in further, his length filled you slowly, splitting your dripping entrance until his hips met yours. Feeling so full, your hands cupped his face, lips pressing to his, squeezing your eyes shut against the sting in your core. Pulling out slowly, he thrusted into you shallowly, your moans muffled by your connected lips.

He rocked his hips into you slowly, taking his time with his thrusts, angling your hips to sheathe himself fully each time. "Fuck. You always take me so well." Praises fell from his lips just how he knew you liked it, his voice coaxing you closer to your high.

Passion saturated the room, the agile glide of his hips maintaining the pace, sending your head spinning when his thick tip brushed your pleasure spot. Eyes fluttering shut, you cried out, fingers threading tightly in his hair. "I love you, I love you." You chanted, weakly rutting your hips to meet his gentle thrusts.

Laying beneath you, Wooyoung watched your face, the way your eyes scrunched tight against the mounting pleasure, your hair disheveled with strands flying out of place, the way you bit your lip with every thrust in an attempt to keep your moans quiet. Perfect. Every single thing about you was absolutely perfect. He loved seeing you on top of him, the best position to cradle you to his chest and coo over your fucked out appearance, which he did every time you were intimate.

Trailing his hands over your body, gratitude overwhelmed him, the fact that you trusted him this much with your heart and body hit him intensely. "Y/n…You're so beautiful"

Opening your eyes, your heart flooded with emotions, eyes stinging with tenderness for the man beneath you. The way he looked up at you, eyes swimming with adoration and pride, broke you down. Your damp eyes overflowed, a tear dripping onto his handsome face.

"Oh baby girl. Don't cry." His eyes shone with emotion, pooling with wetness as well. Tracing your cheekbones with his thumbs, he brushed the tears from your cheeks as fast as they fell, his hips stuttering as his heart jumped. Sniffling, you buried your head in his neck, wrapping your arms around him tighter.

He rubbed your back soothingly, thrusting into you continuously, maintaining his slow pace.

You laid like that for a while, his cock dragging against your walls perfectly as he made love to you passionately. Speeding up his thrusts, he tilted your chin up to look at him and kissed you slowly, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip. Pressing your forehead to his, you kissed him back, bouncing on his dick, clit rubbing against his abdomen as he fucked up into you.

You felt yourself coming undone, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he slammed into you with vigor.

"I..I'm close." You whimpered, scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure.

"C-cum for me baby." Breath shaky, he reached around to rub at your clit, drawing high pitched whimpers from your lips and snapping the knot in your stomach. Releasing with you, he groaned, your spasming walls caressing his leaking cock. Deep within you he shot his load, white streaks of cum painting the canvas of your quivering pussy. Coming down from your highs, you closed your eyes, holding each other close in your post orgasm bliss.

His eyes opened first, wiping the combined sweat from your foreheads. "You did so good for me sweetheart. I love you." His eyes shone with pride, unable to think of loving anyone but you. You smiled at him tiredly, pecking his grinning lips and lacing your fingers with his.

Brushing the flyaway hairs from your face, he looked at you cautiously, stroking your back gently. "Again?"

Your body ached and your hips and pussy would definitely hurt in the morning but you didn't care. Nodding your head, you rested your head on his chest and hissed with him in oversensitivity when he stirred inside you. The pain quickly morphed into pleasure and he sped up, fucking your mixed cum deep into your spent hole. Heart full, you allowed him to lead you to your high once again, emotions peaking with your euphoric release. Although uncertain of how long you'd last, you gave yourself to him over and over, taking as much as he gave. With his fingers caressing every inch of your skin and his heart beating next to yours, you lost yourself in the love and pleasure of the special celebration.

#i love you all #i don't wanna get oldddd #but it has to happen i guess #plus i love wooyoung uwwu #ateez smut #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #smut #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung fanfic #ateez fanfic #krys writes

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 4 years

Text

Mr. I want suck your blood - Pt 4

Warning: Mentions of violence and Swearing

Word count: 2,451

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In stories, Soulmates were meant to be the real deal. They were forever. They were two individuals who were brought together by the universe so their lives finally made perfect sense.

You'd never heard of Soulmates ‘Taking a break’ or ‘Splitting up,’ it wasn't something that happened. That’s not what happened in the stories.

Thats just the thing though. Life isn't a story. Life’s a bitch.

Y/N POV

It had been 1 Hour 19 minutes and 45 seconds since Carlisle shattered your world. 1 Hour, 22 minutes and 23 seconds since you had ripped out your IV line and stormed out of the Cullen house. 1 Hour, 28 minutes and 15 seconds, since Carlisle Cullen, your SOULMATE, decided to call it quits.

Carlisle’s words were still ringing in your ears. “It’s safer this way.” or “Now you can live a normal human life.” You felt numb.

-1 Hour, 19 minutes and 45 seconds ago-

You looked up as you saw Carlisle standing in the wooden door frame. You smiled and placed a hand on your fast beating heart relieved to see him unscathed. Bella had swiftly exited the room. It was just the two of you now. You could tell straight away that something was wrong. Your heart started racing again.

You sat there and listened, as Carlisle took your hand and proceeded to shatter your world. He’d decided that being together, it was too dangerous. He couldn't put you in danger again, couldn’t watch you bleed in his arms again. You both argued. It was his over protective nature, that was the cause of this.

“What about Bella and Edward? She’s still human?!” Apparently it was an invalid argument. Invalid my ass. He wouldn't budge. He thought some time apart would be for the best, even if saying it did secretly pain him.

You were angry, so angry that you ripped out your own IV, not without gagging of course. The screaming and arguing drew the attention of the rest of the Cullen household. Bella was trying to calm you down and stop your arm from bleeding, while Edward and Esme were talking to Carlisle.

You didn't care anymore. How dare he. How could he do this to you? You didn't ask for this life. You'd been dragged into it head first. You'd accepted him for all he was. Before all of this you WERE a normal teenager, with normal teenage problems!

You didn't want normal anymore. You wanted Carlisle, the Volturi, wolves and blood singers. You wanted it all, but just like that, he took it away.

You hadn't wasted any time running through the house, past Alice, Rose and Jasper and to your car. You say run, more like fast walked, your legs were still jelly from lying in bed the last couple of days. Alice had tried to stop you on the way out but Jasper told her to let you go, he could feel the pain and anger radiating of you in waves.

The first thing you did when you got to your car was check your glove box for cigarettes. You got in and slammed the door, you could see Carlisle fighting to try and get passed Edward and Emmett but they wouldn't let him out. You looked over to see Bella running toward your car. You waited. She jumped in the passenger side and neither of you spoke a word. You didn't have to. You started the engine and it came to life with a roar, you peeled out of the Cullen’s drive way with tears streaming down your face and a cigarette between your lips. You fucking hated Forks.

Bella had made you pull over halfway home, scared the tears were clouding your vision. She was probably right, the road ahead did look quite blurry. You traded places and carried on towards home. She was talking to you but you weren't really listening, just watching the trees speed past in a blur, you were sure you could see other objects moving beside you through the trees just as fast, but blinked and they were gone.

-2 weeks later-

Grand Piano by Nicki Minaj blared through the speakers on repeat, you sat staring blankly at your sketchpad, no inspiration, no drive.. nothing. It had been like this for two weeks. Bella had apparently been the same, but you just couldn't shake it. You'd shut yourself off from everyone. Only coming out of your room to get food and use the bathroom. You felt numb.

You could tell your Mom and Charlie were starting to worry. They'd tried to talk to you, find out whats wrong. All they knew is someone broke your heart bad. You'd started having nightmares the first night you were without Carlisle. They felt like more than nightmares though, so vivid, almost like premonitions. You'd wake up still screaming in a cold sweat clutching your chest and crying. Crying for everything you lost when Carlisle let you go. You'd never been in love before and if it felt like this then you never wanted to be again. You didn't think you could love again.

You were spaced out, the music was still playing in the background but your mind was somewhere else, another thing that had been happening since the accident. You just went places, like you were daydreaming, lost in a trance. This time was different though. It was if you were actually there, watching things unfold, only when you came to you were in your bedroom, your paints scattered everywhere, your sketchbook now covered in imagery. You gasped and flew back from your desk, the page awash with shades of vibrant red and black. You gagged. Blood….. and a symbol, it was an emblem of some sort. You shook your head and closed the book on the now dry paints.

What the fuck.

It happened a few more times after that. The spacing out, coming back to earth having drawn on something or once, even scratched symbols into your desk. You'd practically stopped sleeping. Too many thoughts in your head. Even Bella was getting worried, she knew what it was like to spiral and you were doing it at 100mph. She’d suggested talking to Carlisle but you shouted at her for even bringing him up. He left you and hadn't made any attempt to contact or see you. Why give him the satisfaction.

You'd decided enough was enough. You had to start living your life again, or at least thats what you tried to tell yourself. Today you were going to see Seth. You’d become quite close friends with Seth since getting involved in the whole supernatural side of life but you'd been shutting him out for weeks, he knew what had happened with Mr I want to suck you blood, but he didn't ask questions, which you were grateful for. You thought it would do you some good to get outside and breath in the fresh air. You couldn't wallow in self pity any longer.

It felt weird to be in normal clothes rather than ratty old pyjamas. You parked up, jumping out of your car, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. You had brought your sketchbook with you, you didn't know who to talk to about these things, so you were going to show one to Seth, just to see if he recognised anything.

You couldn't help but breath deeply as the air floated off the salty sea and toward your face. You smiled as you watched Seth running down the beach. His boyish grin was charming and his smile grew as he got closer to you. He wrapped you in a hug and you hugged back desperate for a bit of normalcy.

“Hey Seth,” You grinned, thankful for a bit of human, well in this case werewolf, connection. Yeah you had Bella.. and Alice had tried to stop by from time to time, but at the minute they were just a constant reminder of him….

“Y/N! I missed you, things have been so strange without seeing you around ya know!” You bumped his shoulder as you walked down the beach. It had been strange. You'd moved to Forks, got involved with Vamps and the supernatural and in all this time you'd never had any normal time to yourself, or with a friend.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, you know the whole…. thing…” He just nodded his head. You didn't have to explain, he was just happy you were there now.

You'd spent hours just walking and talking on the beach. While walking you had bumped into some of the others as well, Sam, Paul…. You got along with them too, but they had never agreed with your relationship. They seemed somewhat more comfortable around you now. Catching up was good, you felt a lot lighter when you walked, your heart a little less heavy, he was still in the back of your mind though, as much as you tried to think about anything else.

There was an abandoned fire pit a little further up from where you'd been talking with the others, logs surrounded the ashy mound, placed out like small earthy benches. You'd been collecting odd pieces of wood on the way, expecting to find it there. Yourself and Seth pilled the kindling high and he started a fire, he didn't really need to because of his heat, but it was still fun. As Seth continued the fire you reached around and grabbed your leather backpack, opening the zip and fishing inside for your paint covered sketchbook. He came to sit beside you as you started flicking through the pages. You tried to glance at him from the corner of your eye to read his expressions.

“Y/N, these are pretty amazing, and… somewhat scary…” He looked at the book and then back at you. “What are they?” His finger traced the images and the symbols.

You shook your head and flicked through the pages more rapidly. “I don't know S, I…if I tell you something you have to promise you wont tell anyone, not even Sam, not even Jake….” You gulped and looked up at him. He looked confused. You faltered a little, getting nervous you shut your book and started to shove it in your bag. “This was stupid, I should go…” You stood up trying to leave but Seth grabbed your hand.

“I wont tell, you can trust me I promise.” You relaxed, still hesitant, you sat back down. You took the sketchbook back out and went to the first page, tracing the symbols and images, remembering how clearly you had seen them in your mind.

“I drew these. But I didn’t, at the same time.” Seth just looked even more confused now. “I think…. I think something happened to me when I was bitten S…. Something I cant explain. This symbol, I drew this, sat at my desk, one minute the sky outside was light, the next thing I knew it was dark, and the once blank page was covered in all these drawings!” You flicked through the book and sighed placing your head in your hands. He probably thought you were crazy. You sure felt crazy.

You felt his hand rest on your back as you hunched over sighing. “Y/N I’m a wolf, The Cullen’s are Vampires… crazier things have happened, i’ve just never heard of this crazy happening yet….”

You peaked at him from your hands. “Do you know what any of the symbols mean? I see them in my dreams as well, it’s like i’m watching a movie in my head, it’s like I'm there but no one can hear me or see me.. It feels so real.” You sit up, flicking through the pages, before you can turn to the next, Seth’s hand comes flying down stopping the process as he points to one of the symbols.

“Y/N, I’ve seen that symbol before… I think it’s something to do with the cold ones.. the Volturi to be exact.” You groan. This cant be fucking happening. Not only were you dumped now you were having freaky Volturi dreams as well? You searched in your bag for your cigarettes, you held the packet out to Seth and he surprisingly took one. You grinned.

“Wow Sethy never took you for the rebel type.” He ruffled your hair and you shoved him. “Seriously though what am I going to do, this shouldn't be happening i’m human, I didn't turn, Carlisle made sure of that.” You couldn't hide the bitter tone in your voice.

“I don’t know what it means Y/N, but I promise we will figure it out.. cant you talk to Cull…” You glared at him before he could finish his sentence. “Never mind, stupid idea, ignore me.” You laughed and you both carried on looking through the book. What the hell did this mean?

It was late now, Seth walked you to your car, his body still close to keep you warm, the sea breeze now icy cold on your skin. You sighed, part of you didn't want to leave, it was the first kind of normal you'd felt in a really long time, even before coming to Forks. Life in your old place had been really hard, You didn't fit in anywhere, you could count your friends on one hand and you had a strange relationship with your bio dad. You thought things would get easier, Forks had the smallest population and yet you managed to find yourself smack bang in the middle of all this drama, you'd thank Bella for that later. You thought it would be easier living here, maybe you were wrong.

You turned, looking at Seth as you reached your car, you were about to tell him you'd had a nice time, ask him if he wanted to hang out again soon, but you couldn't speak. The waves sounded louder, the air around you felt thicker and you couldn't breath. You could hear Seth’s muffled voice in the background somewhere and a pair of arms shaking you but in your head you were somewhere else entirely.

Cloaks of black floating across the white pearlescent snow, rivers of red blood flowing all around. Wicked eyes staring into yours, and then pain.

You screamed and grabbed your head, it felt like someone had jabbed it with a white hot poker. Images flashed before your eyes, Volturi, Snow, Red, Carlisle. You gagged, so much blood, so much pain. Then, nothing.

Your mind went dark, no images now, no sound, just the sharp ache as you feel your body shut down and hit the solid ground, then the coldness surrounded you.

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

Hey guys! I’m sorry it took so long for me to post another part! Hope you enjoy reading x Please comment if you'd like to be tagged!

PT 5 -------- HERE

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@thechangingcolourswithinthewoods

@scream-kiwi79

@kettnerjanea

@caraboo15

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sloppy-butcher · 4 years

Note

Can I get some hcs for Freddy x reader who have like very love/hate reltionship? Like they annoy eachother constantly but still seek each others company. Thanks!

This is the first time I have ever tried writing for Freddy and to be honest, I am quite nervous I did him wrong. Please forgive any ooc characterizations i may accidentally give him - i tried my hardest to make him accurate to the 80’s version (yes, this one will be based on old freddy not the new one (2010 remake), hope that it okay <3) i also hope that you don’t mind if i make the reader a killer as i am only comfortable writing for freddy when the power dynamics are equal

Thank you for the request and i hope these are good enough for you

Headcanons for The Nightmare (Freddy Krueger) with a Killer!S/O who have a Love/Hate relationship

When you are an obedient little dog, when you kill mercilessly and the Entity grows fat from your bountiful supply of food, the spider-god showers you with rewards. Most forms of these appreciations take a physical appearance (new and terrifying outfits to adorn during your daily workouts or new weapons for you to play with). But there were some gifts that were intangible, and otherworldly and oh so irresistible to you - dreams. The Entity lets you sleep if you do well in trials and sometimes even offers you sweet, beautiful dreams. They were indulging at first, so totally vivid in their detail and color that you could almost lose yourself completely in their daydreams. It was a spider web most wonderfully and intricately made. A labyrinth of the mind. But it did not take you long to notice the spider lurking in the corners of his creation.

You spotted him often hiding under the shadow of trees, just standing there in the corner of your eye - one look and he would vanish without a trace. You would have thought nothing of the strange occurrence had it had only happened once and in only dreams. During your walks in between realms, you’d spot the man through the treeline. He was unmistakable in his silhouette and in the way his eyes glowed a horrid orange. You did not fear him however, he was no worse a monster than you were. Rather you were annoyed by his presence in both reality and dreams.

You bend down and pick up a rock, turning it over in your hands testing its weight and size. “Hey!” You shout at the man who halted his retreat into the dark, night wood at the sound of your voice. “Stay out of my fucking dreams, asshole!” You throw the rock at him, narrowly missing him and instead, striking a tree.

“Such a temper.” A hoarse voice coos from somewhere behind and you spin around to meet it. It was him, moving faster and quicker than air and appearing next to you, closer than ever before. You got your first good look at him. His skin was a sore pink leather and he smelled like smoke. “Trust me, sweetheart, I would if I could. Your dreams,” He takes out a hand covered in razor-sharp knives and mockingly strokes the hair out your face, “, are so boring.” You snatch his hand away from your face, barely noticing the sting of blades in your soft palm and the trickle of warm blood down your forearm. You did not grimace, did not cower, and did not back down. He grins at your defiant expression. “And here I thought you’d thank me for giving you the chance to live in such a wonderful world. I’m hurt,” He feigns agony, his free hand placed sorrowfully on his chest, “, good work always goes unappreciated.”

You scoff and show your teeth. “I would prefer nightmares if it meant I wouldn’t get to see you.” The man laughed and flexed his knife-fingers, fresh blood oozing out your wound.

“Oh babe, you and me both. I don’t like this babysitter gig anymore than you do.” He leans closer grinning with his horrible yellow fangs, the scent of a recent kill seeping off his tongue. “I prefer nightmares anyway.”

“You look like a nightmare.” You spit into his face, finally letting go of his weapon and glaring at him. He laughs again.

“You are a feisty one. I think you and I are going to get along fabulously.”

Of course, he did not heed your warning for that very same night you saw him again in your dreams. Though now, he made it a point, not to hideaway. He approached you and actively talked to you, following you around your dream like a resistant plague. He commented on your shit reality, on all the things you could have wanted to dream of, and yet you only wanted to be in an empty field at the brink of dawn. He shakes his head and degrades your poor taste with even more snarky comments. You knew you couldn’t do anything to him while in his dream but in the physical world - well, that is a completely different story.

If he was going to bother you while you slept like a buzzing mosquito, you decided to bother him when you were awake. In the real world he was much less intimidating, that aura of cosmic power that bubbled around him while in a dream state, was not present in the night air and you smirked at his weakness. You mentioned his height, asking how anyone could be scared of such a small man. He’d lash out, swinging at you with both his blades and his harsh tongue. He was easy to toil, easy to wind up but a task to deal with. Freddy could take a punch to his pride and deal out damage times 10. 1 mean-spirited remark deserves 10 more.

Freddy thrived on this back and forth. Ordinarily, he would turn his nose up at the idea of bickering with another killer - sure, some of them were fun, simple minds with which to bend and manipulate in dreams but most were already so twisted in their own self-delusions that well, he just didn’t find them all that interesting. But your mind was sharp and quick, built in the skull of a hardened murder professional yet dainty enough to still yearn for the sunlight world of goodness. A perfect balance. It had been a very long time since last Freddy had had a conversation of equals - a real conversation where the table was not shifted in the favor of either one. If he said something that crossed a boundary or hit a nerve (a task he sought out to do almost every night) you would turn on him, shoot daggers at him with the sole intent of murdering his little ass. Sure, it never really scared him but there was no denying that in a way, to spare with an equal really turned him on. To be challenged.

There were times when he would become too much. Like the static on a dead radio station, he would drone on and on about a certain topic he knew would heat your blood. Always poking his stick deeper and deeper into the bear until you’d bite. Luckily it was quite simple to turn him off - just don’t sleep. You never really needed to rest in the Fog anyway, tiredness never made its claim over your bones even after a long day at work. Sleep was merely a reward, after all, a gift that could be refused if so desired. If time could be recorded within the Entity’s world, then the longest you had gone without sleep, and without seeing that little creep, would have been 2 months. He had really pissed you off when in a dream he produced a small songbird and made you watch as he melted its skin off - all for sport. A sight that did not necessarily make your skin crawl but one that irked you. It was always a game with him, a competition to see who would break first and try to strangle the other. And, to be dead honest, it was starting to annoy you more than anything he could say or do. So you stopped seeing him, stopped dreaming, and stopped seeking him out in the woods. You were tired of always trying to be bested and frankly, his childishness was wearing you thin.

But there was no denying that in that quiet that ate up the space where Freddy used to stand, a strange loneliness would grow incredibly heavy and dreadful. You missed his rather repulsive company, his witty and sharp tongue always keeping you on edge and on your toes. There was no way you could stop your head from turning around to look for him, seeking out his small frame among the dark wood. It was lonely without the flies, silent and decaying slowly.

For the life of him, Freddy tried to move on. He had never tied himself to one person before, never allowed himself to latch on to anyone save for his favorite little toys. But with you it was different. It was fun to annoy you, it was fun to torment you in dreams. It was even fun when you reeled at him, hackles raised threatening to kill. It was exciting, it reminded him of the joy of being powerful and alive (in a sense). And when you never took his bullshit sitting down, when you'd raise to meet his call, oh how it set fire to his heart. To be challenged. He could feel himself wither away, the interest that you had sharpened only seemed to dull and break off in your absence. He’d hate to admit it, but he missed you. Missed your noise and missed that sweet dream of yours.

Both of you are too prideful to confess to the other that you were lonely. But when, one day, you find yourself dreaming a familiar vision, that built-up residue of solitude melted and you turned to face Freddy eagerly.

“Did you really think you could not sleep forever?” He crossed his arms over his gloating chest, a snake tongue flickering victories in between teeth. “I always get my prey.” You smirk, not surprised in the slightest by his rather rude welcome back. You look around at the grassy field surrounding you both shining a brilliant emerald, the sun feeling warm on your back, and the fresh, clean air carrying with it the scent of spring flowers.

“Aw, you missed me, Frederick?” You tease him with his unused full name, casting a devilish side-eye to the dream-demon. You see a flicker of panic, alerting you that you had hit the nail on the head before he spits and loudly proclaims,

“Don’t be so far up your own ass!” His golden eyes gleamed pure hatred at you. “It's not a hat.” You laugh at the face of the fuming man, knowing that despite how his actions appeared malicious and distasteful, there was no feasible way to deny that the dream he had made for you was spectacular and expressed something deeper than just surface-level annoyance.

#dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd the nightmare #dbd the nightmare x reader #dbd freddy krueger #dbd freddy krueger x reader

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make-me-imagine · 3 years

Note

congrats on 5.5k!! you're insanely talented and I'm so happy you're getting the recognition you deserve 🥺🥺 could i join in the ship requests too?

I'm a rather small sized (like, 154cm & ~40kg kind of small) Asian female from a South East Asia country and i prefer men, especially men who are taller and Age Gaps™ 🥴 I'm not sure how much you know about/believe in astrology but I'm a Libra sun, Taurus rising and Capricorn moon so you can do what you want with that 😂

I'm an INTP/INFP (I've gotten both an equal number of times from sites OTHER than 16 personality, tho I personally vibe with INTP just a teeny smidge more) if you do MBTI ✌🏼 I LOVE to read, especially fanfiction lmao, and i also write! I really love listening to music + watching shows/movies too! My favourite shows are all mystery/crime based LOL and I am working towards becoming a criminal psychologist/forensic pathologist/forensic scientist in future! (heavily inspired by Criminal Minds, Sherlock, Detective Conan and the like so 😂) I have a really vivid and good imagination please i can spend DAYS just daydreaming and imagining scenarios that I never finish writing about & generally this is how all my work is never finished loll

I'm the eldest sibling at home, and my parents haven't always been around so I've been rather used to stepping up and taking care of myself (+ my sibling, like helping them with homework and all). Some people say I'm a natural born leader? idk bc I often step up to be the leader in group work & I'll often be the one to initiate things & all. I'm a rather big procrastinator though LOLL so you'll often catch me rushing my assignments & final projects & rushing my revision for exams + finals like, 2 days before the actual exam 💀 which often leads to me becoming more stressed out & breaking down more often than i actually should so 🥲 I'm trying to quit this bad habit though

I love cuddles and hugs please I will KILL for cuddles and hugs from my back by a tall character pls it just feels so safe and comforting to be spooned too 🥺🥺 sometimes when I'm too absorbed in work or something (which happens too often for it to be healthy) I might just forget to eat/sleep entirely AND also my sleep routine isn't the best. like i will literally fall asleep at 9pm, wake up in the middle of the night on my own at like, 1am, then usually I'll be rushing homework at this time, then maybe sleep again for a short while from 4ish? till when i have to get up for school/work at 5:30/6am 💀 there's been days where i literally looked so sick from the lack of sleep where my tutor once stopped the class to ask me if I was okay and if i was going to faint LMAO 😔 i feel like I'm a night owl??? but then also i have no problem getting up super early in the morning so?? but i really feel most at home and really enjoy the 3am nights 😌

i am also the class clown lol but it's bc i just make sarcastic comments and all and my friends think they're funny???? but also i enjoy making people laugh bc sometimes i find it interesting to try and see what kind of things make my friends laugh so it's lowkey an experiment? or like something i want to achieve? at this point. I'm fluent in English and Chinese/Mandarin and I'm learning Italian so I roughly know some basics, and I really enjoyed History, which I took last year but dropped this year. (I'm taking English Literature with Biology + Chemistry this year and they're all great, except I'm literally dying from the workload aaahhh 💀)

I'm kinda clumsy and Not Good™ at most sports, maybe passably okay for badminton but I'm really not that athletic and really not very keen on exercising either 😔 I'm quite creative and good with public speaking/creative writing/impromptu performance/speech though I'd say! I'm also in my school's drama club 😎 though I'm more of a backstage lights & sounds kind of person. I'm right handed (with a really neat handwriting, as I've been told many, many, many times) and I wear thin frame spectacles which I sometimes will fall asleep in & I'm so clumsy/careless that I'm actually really afraid I'd break them (it's happened before 😭)

I'm a really good planner? like i can do up a great and detailed schedule/plan for revision and all but i will NOT stick to what i plan 😭😭 i love to snack!!!! on chips + gummies especially, and my diet is quite unhealthy lmao i literally don't eat vegetables At All™ & i don't really eat meat that much too?? lmaoo please i can go for days without having a single proper meal & just survive on snacking on potato chips + soft drinks 💀 i am a very picky eater though so really me not finding food i like/am able to stomach is also really kind of my fault 🤡

while i really vibe with and love the dark academia aesthetic, i also do video/MOBA games, like i play games like Mobile Legends & all. I'm someone who knows most, if not all the lastest trends (like tiktok, memes etc) but i won't actively participate in them? i just kind of like to know things, like Knowledge is Power you know (I'm a Slytherin, in case you're wondering, though I've gotten Ravenclaw so often it's a close tie sometimes)

okay i feel like that's enough details about me? feels like I've told you nothing that's useful oh well LOL... I'd really love a ship for Criminal Minds and Marvel? if that's possible please? in case you missed it, i prefer men! (I'm a questioning bi, with a strong preference for men) for the hc prompt "what you do on your first date" or maybe "how you met + first impressions"?

thank you so much for being so kind and willing to do this ship requests thing!! I'm sure you're spending TONS of time and effort on this and aahhh i feel bad for typing so long paragraphs now (as you may have noticed i have a tendency to ramble on if not stopped because i am just really Socially Awkward ™ sometimes 💀 and have really bad (social) anxiety too) and i really think you're super amazing for doing this??? I'm so sorry if this took up too much of your time aaahhhhh thank you so so so much 🥺😭😭 really the biggest of congratulations to you for your 5.5k??? you really do deserve every single follower & i am SO insanely happy for you 🤩❤️

- 🌙🏒 anon

Don’t worry, you definitely provided enough information lmao.

And thank you for your kind words, I appreciate it.

I hope you like the ships I made for you

They are under the cut:

Criminal Minds:

I ship you with Hotch.

You get the age-gap here lol. He would be a bit hesitant due to the age gap at first, but he would get over it because he can not resist. He does not seem like the type of cuddles, and especially does not take part in PDA. But when you are alone he would love holding you and spooning, especially after a long day of work. Aaron would be attracted to your uniqueness as well as your intelligence and aesthetic, finding it to be very “you”.

How you met + his first impressions:

You met when you were transferred to the BAU as the new Forensic Pathologist.

Hotch thought you were very interesting when you first met and was definitely intrigued by you.

He thought you fit in fairly well and would get along with the others (which you do).

He appreciates a sarcastic sense of humor, so he would dig that as well.

Hotch could tell you had a form of anxiety and wold be patient around you when you first met so that you could open up to him at your own pace.

What you do on your first date:

He takes you to a hockey game.

He is not the sportiest person but he has had an interest in hockey for a while, sometimes watching it on tv.

When he learned that you liked it, he decided that this would be the perfect opportunity to invite you on a date as well as to see his first game.

After the game, you walked around town for a bit, getting some late night food and talking or a long time.

This allowed you to open up to him quite a bit and you grew more comfortable around him as well, which he is very happy about.

Best Friend:

Your best friend is JJ. She thinks you are really cool and unique and nice. She has the type of personality that is easy t get along with and open up too, so you bonded with her quicker than the others. I also feel like she is into hockey as well, so she appreciates your love for it as well.

Marvel:

I ship you with Sam.

I think Sam is a good fit for you. He is into sports, and digs your aesthetic. He is easy to get along with and very funny. He thinks your line of work is very interesting and loves to listen to you talk about it. Sam also really enjoys crime shows ans thrillers so he is always excited to meet someone who enjoys them as well.

How you met + his first impressions:

You met through Nat, who you had met through SHIELD years before.

You happened to be at the compound with Nat when Sam was there and she introduced you.

He immediately thought you were pretty and very interesting.

Sam could tell you were shy, but that did not stop him from flirting.

Though he also made some jokes and was easy going as to not scare you off.

He made sure to ask Nat about you once you left and managed to convince her to give him your contact info.

What you did on your first date:

He took you to the movies first, to watch the most recent crime thriller that came out.

After the movie you went to a nearby park and walked around, talking about the movie and other crime/horror related stuff.

You got food at a food truck and sat by the fountain together.

He was appalled when you told him that you didn’t eat that often (if came a part of your relationship later on that he would try to cook you meals that you’d like just so you WOULD EAT).

You ended up spending hours together, and it felt like no time at all.

So you were definitely up for another date with him, which he of course asked you about.

Best-Friend:

Natasha. She was the first one you met, and slowly introduced you to the others. She thought you were really cool when you first met and was surprised at how well you go along. That is sometimes hard for her to do, so once you became friends she never took that for granted. She and Sam would gang up on you when you weren’t eating btw.

xxaaron

#ship #ships #ship request #5.5k ships #anon ship #anon #ask

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darkkitsuneprincess · 4 years

Text

Homecoming pt.1 (Nobunaga x MC)

Several people have asked for a sequel to Preparations for War and have pretty much begged for fluff. And I started out with fluff...I SWEAR I DID. And then...then Hideyoshi had to go and be dumb and, well, here we are.

Don’t worry, kids...nobody dies. I can’t do that to any of my best boys. And part 2 will be all the fluff you can stand. It should be in your hands tomorrow.

Title: Homecoming (part 1) Pairing: Nobunaga x MC Rating: T/M (talk of violence and surgery) Word Count: ~4,000

Description: After three months, our heroes return from battle, but not in the best of ways. Angst with a dash of H/C and some horny Nobunaga for good measure.

WARNINGS: Angst. Lots and lots and loooooooots of angst. More angst than the first part. Major character injury with talk of death (but no death!). Vivid descriptions of medical procedures. Blood. Lots of blood.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The page placed the neatly-folded letter in my hand with a bow and offered a sad smile before disappearing from sight. My sewing fell into my lap, forgotten, as I cradled the single sheet of paper in shaking fingers. Before I consciously registered that it was actually in my hands, a single, round spot of wetness marred the otherwise pristine surface.

Three months they’d been gone. Three long, lonely months I’d haunted the halls of Azuchi castle, waiting at Ieyasu’s side for our family to return.

I opened the letter carefully so as not to tear the paper and smoothed it out against my chest. There, in Nobunaga’s beautiful handwriting was yet another heartbreaking update.

My love,

The tide of battle has finally turned and we may yet persevere. Our men are weary of battle, beaten down and exhausted. Longing for home. Perhaps if I’d thought to bring my lucky charm with me, this battle would have long-since ended and without the casualties.

My hands are stained with blood, yet I long to hold you again. My nights are lonely without you in my arms. I will return as soon as I am able. I love you.

Nobunaga

I carefully refolded the letter and tucked it into my kimono as tears rolled down my face. I missed him desperately. I wanted him home with me. I wanted him to know the beautiful things that waited here for him. So many times I’d started to tell him in letters but in the end I’d burned them all. I wouldn’t do that to him; give him something else to worry about. No, I’d wait to give him the good news when he returned so that I could enjoy his reaction.

I wiped at my face with my sleeve and turned my attention back to my sewing. There was nothing else left to do but wait. And wait. And wait some more.

***

Another week passed with silence from the battlefield. I sewed, I cleaned, I cooked…I found any number of ways to distract myself from the fact that nearly everyone I loved was at risk. I couldn’t shake the sense of dread when I thought about all of them out there, struggling to make peace out of blood.

With all of my work for the day completed, I sat in the garden enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face. With my eyes closed and my face tilted toward the sky, it was easy to imagine my men coming home, the steady, rhythmic stomp-and-clank of marching warriors rattling the ground beneath them. I pictured Nobunaga’s face, streaked with dirt and smiling that infuriating, devilish smile of his. I imagined his arms sliding around my waist as he pulled me to him. My hand dropped to my belly, rounded enough now that I had to be careful how I dressed and how I sat in order to hide the evidence from the house staff. Only Ieyasu knew, and I wanted it to stay that way until Nobunaga returned.

“Lady Mai,” one of the castle pages called my name, pulling me from my beautiful daydreams and back into that harsh, lonely reality. He bowed when I turned to face him. “Lord Ieyasu has called for you.”

“I’m on my way,” I replied with a smile. He bowed again and disappeared. Once I was certain I was alone, I struggled to my feet, fixed my clothes, and exited the garden.

I found Ieyasu in the audience hall discussing trade arrangements with a new ally. The conversation seemed to be going well, if not a little awkward thanks to my contrarian friend, and when I attempted to back out of the room and leave them to it, Ieyasu lifted his hand and waved me over. The look on his face was almost one of relief when I obliged.

“I apologize for the interruption. A page said you were looking for me.”

“Yes,” he answered as I stepped onto the dais and he offered his hand to help me sit, for which I was grateful. At roughly the half-way mark of this pregnancy, my balance wasn’t exactly great. I tucked my legs beneath me and arranged my kimono to keep my growing belly hidden, and when I cast a glance at our guest, he gasped audibly.

“Lord Hiro, this is Princess Mai, Lady of the Oda.”

“My Lady,” he replied, dropping into a deep formal bow with his head against the floor, “rumors of your beauty abound, but they do not do you justice.”

“Careful, Lord Hiro,” Ieyasu admonished. “Remember that she is the wife of Lord Nobunaga, the man to whom you’ve recently sworn your loyalty.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” Lord Hiro stammered, trying harder to push his face into the floor, “I meant no harm, I swear!”

“Please rise, Lord Hiro,” I cut in. “No offense was taken, I promise. I assure you, a lady always likes to hear compliments.” I turned to Ieyasu with a scowl. “Now play nice, Ieyasu.” He narrowed his eyes at me and shook his head, so I smiled as sweetly as I could and turned my attention back to our guest. “Tell me, Lord Hiro, what are your hopes for this alliance?”

The man slowly rose from the floor to recompose himself, but I noticed his hands shaking as he folded them into his lap.

“I am new to my position,” he admitted, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the change in Ieyasu’s expression. This was news even to him. “Our land is small, largely unnoticed by the Shogunate in Kyoto. We are hard workers, my Lady, I promise you. But…”

He trailed off, as if he were afraid to speak.

“Please, Lord Hiro, continue.”

He took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. “My people were mistreated by our former Lord. He wanted the Shogun to notice him, so he would take our crops and our crafts for his tributes and leave us with barely enough to survive.” His voice trembled on the last word. It broke my heart to hear. “When he died, he left no heir. So the Shogun’s people came and assessed our home before the infighting could begin. Because my family is one of the oldest in our land, I was given this charge.”

“That is quite the honor,” Ieyasu said, his voice cold and impassive. I elbowed him in the side when Hiro looked away. He grunted.

“It is,” I answered, turning my attention back to our guest. “I understand that being in charge of something so large can be terrifying,” I told him. “Look at the two of us—Ieyasu and I have kept Azuchi Castle going for months now while Lord Nobunaga is away. Like you, we are here to care for our people. So please, tell us what you need.”

“I…I wanted to open up trade with Azuchi,” Hiro answered. His shoulders straightened and the lines of worry left his face. “We do not have much right now, but with time and a little assistance, I know my people can be a valuable asset to Lord Nobunaga.” Excitement glimmered in his eyes when he spoke next. “We have skilled craftsman—woodworkers, blacksmiths, weavers…so we can pay in trade. But we need food. Our people are starving.”

“Then food you shall have,” Ieyasu answered, his tone much softer than before. The statement brought tears to Hiro’s eyes. “Speak with Daichi on your way out and he will arrange for the deliveries.”

The man fell into a tearful, formal bow, his forehead once again on the floor at our feet. “Thank you, Lord Tokugawa! Thank you so much! And thank you, Lady Mai! Your kindness has healed my heart.”

“You are very welcome, Lord Hiro. Now please, return to your people and help them prosper.”

Once Hiro was out of earshot, Ieyasu sighed and shook his head.

“Did you have to do that in front of him?” he asked.

“He wasn’t looking,” I answered with a sweet smile. “Besides, you totally deserved it.”

“I did not!”

“Yeah, you did.” I laughed when Ieyasu turned his face away to hide his own smile. “So why did you want to see me?”

“They’re coming home today,” he said and produced a letter from his kimono. Everything around me went fuzzy as his words registered in my head. I took the letter and scanned it, Nobunaga’s writing surprisingly sloppy as if he were in a hurry. It was true; Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, Ranmaru, and Mitsunari were on the way home. Masamune and Mitsuhide were staying behind to clean up the mess.

“Really? This is real?” I asked, disbelieving as I waved the paper between us.

Ieyasu rolled his eyes at me. “Of course it is. That was delivered last night. They’ve secured peace along the southern border. However, there’s one more thing.” He held up another letter, though he didn’t let me have it. “Hideyoshi has been injured.”

My breath seized in my lungs and tears sprang to my eyes. “I-is he…”

“He’s alive,” Ieyasu confirmed. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but he did something stupid and you need to be aware of it.”

My gut roiled and inside my belly, my unborn baby began to squirm. If Hideyoshi managed to get hurt, that meant…

“He covered Nobunaga, didn’t he?” I asked.

Ieyasu nodded. “He took an arrow through the left side of his chest. After the fighting ended, they’d returned to camp. An assassin, acting alone from what I understand, made an attempt on Nobunaga’s life.” My breath escaped in a stuttering cry before I could cover my mouth with my hand. Nausea bubbled up my throat behind it. “Apparently Hideyoshi’s armor was damaged during combat and when he leapt in front of Nobunaga to stop the assassin, the arrow pierced it.”

“No…oh, no. Tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“I won’t know for certain until they arrive. One of the field medics cut the arrow off and bandaged it, but they were afraid to remove it because they don’t know what it might have hit. Nobunaga is bringing him home himself.”

Tears ran freely down my face. While I was thankful that Nobunaga was okay, the idea that Hideyoshi willingly put himself in harm’s way and was actually harmed scared the daylights out of me. My chest ached and what little breakfast I’d managed to eat threatened to come back. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe it.

“Mai? Are you still there?” Ieyasu asked, waving his hands in front of my face. My attention snapped back to him.

“Sorry…”

“I said I need you with me for this,” he repeated. “You’ve handled arrow wounds before and Hideyoshi trusts you.” He glanced down at my belly then back at my face. “Do you think you can do it?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation.

“Then let’s get ready. They’ll be here soon.”

***

I’d just finished sterilizing our equipment when the doors burst open and in stormed Nobunaga with a flourish. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and blood, and the lines of worry etched into his face broke my heart. His gaze found me and a mixture of relief and fear flooded his features. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, as only a breath later Ranmaru and Mitsunari shuffled in carrying an equally muddy and bloody Hideyoshi, though the majority of the blood on him appeared to be his own.

“Careful now,” Ieyasu instructed as he helped them place Hideyoshi on the prepared table. He was conscious though I had no idea how, and groaning in pain. “Drink this,” Ieyasu ordered, tipping a cup up to Hideyoshi’s lips. Our friend swallowed, though not without great effort, then I began to wipe away the grime from his face.

His skin was pale and waxy from the blood loss, his eyes sunken and yellowed. His breath came in tiny, wet gasps. He looked…he looked like he was dying.

“Hang in there, ‘yoshi,” I whispered in his ear and kissed his cheek. “We’ve got you. You’re gonna make it.” His hazy eyes locked onto mine for a second and recognition flared in his gaze. Then his eyes fell closed as if the effort of recognizing me had sapped all of his energy.

Ieyasu unwound the blood-soaked bandage while I set about removing as much of his armor as I could reach. With each tug, Hideyoshi groaned in pain. Ieyasu cut his chestplate between the ribs of metal, careful not to disturb the stump of the arrow sticking out of it. The sight and its imagined pain brought about a series of dry heaves in me.

I’ll make him new armor myself, I thought to remove my mind from the wet work in front of me.

“Stick with me, Mai,” Ieyasu murmured. I nodded and pulled the last of the ties free, focusing my attention on my hand and not the possibly fatal wound of my dear friend. Hideyoshi’s eyes rolled in his head and he cried out when Ieyasu lifted him enough for me to pull away the plates of armor surrounding his body. His clothing underneath was soaked through with blood and we could see then just how deep the arrow had gone. Ieyasu wrapped the arrow in cloth and placed my hands around it while he cut away the rest of Hideyoshi’s clothing.

“At least it missed his heart,” I said, my own voice wobbling. “It’s also high enough that it shouldn’t have hit his lung either.”

“You’re right,” Ieyasu replied. “But it’s going to bleed a lot.”

“I know.” This was bad. So bad…

“Here.” He handed me a strip of worn leather. “Double it over and stick it in his mouth.” He glanced over his shoulder at Nobunaga. “I need you to hold him down. This is going to hurt like hell.”

I moved around, lifting Hideyoshi’s head and placing it in my lap while Nobunaga took my place at his other side. He’d stripped off the majority of his armor from the waist up but he, too, was still covered in layers of dirt and blood. Mitsunari squeezed in between Ieyasu and me, then he and Nobunaga placed their hands on Hideyoshi’s shoulders and pinned them to the table. Ranmaru appeared beside Nobunaga, placing his full weight on Hideyoshi’s thighs to further pin him in place.

“Hold still, stupid monkey,” Nobunaga snarled. “You have to live through this so I can kill you myself. Idiot.” I worked the leather into Hideyoshi’s mouth and held it down against the sides of his face, pinioning him against my legs so he couldn’t struggle—not that he had much strength left to fight with anyway.

“Listen to me, Hideyoshi,” Ieyasu said. “This is going to hurt. I have to get the arrow out. Don’t fight or I might kill you.”

The gleaming blade sank into Hideyoshi’s chest, widening the hole. His body tensed and would have bowed upward if not for the six extra hands holding him down. I pulled the strap tighter and felt him bite down on it, muffling his scream. A moment later I heard the thunk of the barbed arrowhead hitting the wooden bowl at Ieyasu’s side. The pressure on the strap eased and I dropped it, leaning over and placing my hands over the wound to push down. Hideyoshi groaned, though this new pain was probably nothing compared to what he’d just felt. Blood bubbled up through my fingers and I could feel the rapid fluttering of his heartbeat under my hands.

“Hurry, Ieyasu…we’re going to lose him!” I cried, and a moment later he swept my hands to the side and poured sake directly into the wound. Hideyoshi cried out again, his voice weaker still. The clear liquid mixed with the blood, turning it a sickly pink color that ran over his chest and down his sides, soaking into the remnants of his clothing. Ieyasu flooded the wound a second time then quickly stuffed the hole with an herb-filled cloth. It immediately turned red, but it was gone from sight a moment later, hidden behind the layers of bandages. I took the long bandages and wrapped them around Hideyoshi’s shoulder while Ieyasu and Nobunaga held him up, then took the rags and warm water we’d prepared and carefully washed his face, neck, arms, and chest while Ieyasu removed the remainder of his armor. Nobunaga rose and herded the others out while we continued to work.

Then all of a sudden, the excitement was over. Weakness filled my limbs, and for a moment I wanted nothing more than to lie down beside Hideyoshi and sleep. It was over. Hideyoshi was no longer screaming. Mitsunari was no longer whimpering, Nobunaga no longer cursing. There was no more blood except what was soaked into my clothes and staining my hands. It was just…quiet.

Hideyoshi’s breathing slowed and when I pressed my palm to his chest, I felt his heartbeat. It was still too fast for my liking, but it was at least steady now that the worst of the trauma was over. I continued to hold his head in my lap, brushing his matted hair back from his forehead, and prayed to anyone who would listen for his recovery.

Ieyasu checked his bandages and, seeing nothing immediately alarming, replaced the wrappings and leveled out another dose of medicine.

“He’s going to be alright, Mai,” Ieyasu said beside me. “He’ll stay here with me for now. I’ll change the bandages and keep giving him medicine to keep the infection away.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Someone else needs your attention more.”

My heart stuttered. I’d daydreamed a thousand ways to welcome Nobunaga home…and none of them included emergency surgery on his right-hand man. Every single one of my plans had been foiled and Ieyasu was right…I needed to find him.

Carefully, I worked my way out from under Hideyoshi’s head, bending to kiss his forehead one more time before rising and leaving through the open door.

I found Nobunaga at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall. His head was tilted upward, his eyes closed. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he struggled to breathe. He looked so broken…

Though even dirty and bloodstained, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. The sight of him took my breath away and made my heart ache.

“Nobunaga,” I called as I moved to his side. My voice seemed to startle him. “Welcome h—”

Before I could finish my statement I was in his arms, his mouth crushed against mine. He held me so tight I couldn’t breathe and he kissed me with such ferocity that I feared he might devour me whole. My back was against the wall in the next instant, his big body pressed against mine top to bottom. I kissed him back with equal hunger, threading my hands through his dirty hair and pulling him even closer. Every bit of the stress and strain of these last three months melted away under that kiss.

When he released me, we were both breathing hard. His forehead touched mine and we remained like that for a long time, just enjoying the fact that we were together again. That we were still alive.

“I love you, Mai,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” I answered. “Now come on. Ieyasu will take good care of Hideyoshi. He’s going to be okay. But you…you’re about to fall over. We both need a bath and we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Nobunaga snickered and his arms tightened around me. “That we do, my love.”

He released me only to drape one arm around my shoulders and lead me away. I leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth and the feel of him beside me. While we walked, I told him of our earlier meeting with Lord Hiro and filled him in on the petty ramblings and gossip of the townspeople—all the things that had filled my days. Everything except…one thing.

The maids were well ahead of us in that they’d already prepared a bath for Nobunaga—probably Ranmaru’s doing if I had to guess—and vacated the area for us. The room was warm and quiet, and smelled of spicy incense. I slid the door closed behind us, and as it clacked against the frame, Nobunaga sighed. The weight of every action over the last three months sat heavy on top of the sound and when I turned I found an unusual expression on his face.

“What?” I asked. His lips quirked up in a lopsided grin.

“There is something different about you,” he replied. “Three months is quite a long time, but…”

“But what?” I turned away to prepare the cloths and his arms closed around me from behind, pulling my back flush with his chest. He caught my earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently, causing a ripple of pleasure to tickle down my back.

“But…I can always tell when my wife is hiding something from me.”

I pulled out of his arms as a near-hysterical giggle clawed its way out of my throat and his gaze darkened. He crossed his arms over his chest, assuming the angry dad pose.

“Now I know you’re hiding something from me.”

“Maybe,” I answered noncommittally. “But that’s for later. We need to get you clean first. Now strip.”

Nobunaga chuckled, letting the conversation go, and unwound the ties holding on his clothes. I knelt at the foot of the stool where he sat and began the slow process of removing three months’ worth of dirt and grime from my husband’s body. The clean water turned a murky brown as it rolled over his skin, and as I began to scrub, various cuts and bruises appeared. Each one was like a tiny knife to my heart, yet served to remind me that he was still here in my arms and very much alive.

“All done,” I said as the last cup of now-clean water rolled down his back. “You soak while I go find you something to eat.”

“You could join me,” he said, pulling me to him and kissing me gently. “We’ve been apart so long and I don’t want to wait any longer to hold you.”

“If I get in that tub with you, we’ll never get back out,” I answered, trying hard to ignore the feel of his big hands sliding over my sides and down my back.

“I see no problem with this.”

“Well I do. The water will go cold and then where will we be?”

“Making love in a tub of cold water,” he answered with a laugh, then kissed my forehead and let me go.

“You’re impossible.”

“Perhaps. I’ll be quick.”

I left him to finish his bath and went to the kitchen in search of food. It was late and the majority of the house staff had already turned in for the night. To my surprise, though, I found Ranmaru had already beaten me to the punch.

“Lady Siobhan!” he chirped when he spotted me, abandoning his task and running up to hug me. “You were so amazing today! And I was so afraid! Lord Hideyoshi…is he…”

“He’s going to be okay,” I confirmed and his shoulders sagged with relief. “Ieyasu is with him and will bring him back just to kill him again if he dies.”

“That’s…scary, but reassuring. I think.”

“What are you doing in here so late?”

“I, well, I thought Lord Nobunaga might be hungry. None of us have had a real meal in months and after all the excitement…” The pretty young man dropped his head, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“You and I had the same thought,” I told him, which brought a smile back to his face. “That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh good!” He grabbed my hand and towed me around to show me what he was working on.

TBC in Part 2

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen nobunaga #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen fanfic #ikesen fanfiction #ikemen sengoku fanfic #ikemen sengoku fanfiction #angst #lots of angst #angsty angst #hurt/comfort #h/c #why do i do this to myself?

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silverspectre · 4 years

Text

en garde, pret, aimer! || lockwood & co.

pairing: light florence bonnard x anthony lockwood

genre: fencing(?)ish!au and also maybe straying away from canon bc what iS canon at this point, fluff, platonic main relationship, eventual angst, pre-canon??? aka beFore the series takes place

words: 3.8k

tags: fluffy!!, young lockwood nd flo, fencing stuff, apologies for the french (literally lol), i wrote this like half a year ago i’M SORRY-

what to expect: “’Why else would I be here? Tea time?’”

a/n: so this was beta-read and edited by two lovely people! i appreciate their help so much, as they’ve made this story what it is now. thank you so much @piratekingimogen and @willowwisk for your help! is this canon-compliant? someone ask jonathan stroud. this will be my last fic for a while, unless i have a spontaneous bout (pun intended) of inspiration. thank you all for your support!

translation: en garde, prets, allez = on guard, ready, go (used to start a fencing bout) / en garde, prets, aimer = on guard, ready, love (used to start this story)

The train ride from London to Paris is a particularly long, arduous journey. There's not much to see; reading a book 50 times or twiddling your thumbs is perhaps the most productive thing one can do. However, though a subjective opinion, it's a great deal less dull when in the company of a pretty girl whose name you learn through one piece of black licorice.

Florence Bonnard. It was elegant and flowed off the tip of your tongue. She was pretty; her teeth shining white and her long, blonde hair practically another shade of gold, shimmering in the sunlight. Anthony Lockwood could only stare at her.

To Anthony, Paris was a dream of any fencer. It was hailed as the fencing capital of the world, home to countless famed swordsmen and agents. He could merely wish to be like them. He was sure he was on his way, however. He'd been invited to a DEPRAC-sponsored competition in France, and of course, he absolutely had to go. His supervisor, Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, forced him anyways.

He made the acquaintance of Florence Bonnard only a few minutes ago, when she huffed into the train compartment that was otherwise empty except for Anthony's doe-eyed presence. Looking upset, she plopped herself down diagonal from him. She didn't even acknowledge his existence.

"Hi?" he squeaked out. His voice was a little scratchy. He coughed, then repeated the word in a much more confident tone.

"Well? What are you?" This was the first he'd heard the girl speak.

She spared a glance at Anthony.

"I'm, uh..." He thought fast. She didn't

know him; no one on the train, as far as he knew, knew his name. He could reinvent himself, banish the name used so fondly by his parents and sister. He could be...

"I'm, uh... Lockwood. Just Lockwood. Yes. That's me."

"Lockwood... classy," she commented. She paused, in thought. "Though... I think I'll call you Locky."

"L-Locky?" Lockwood stuttered. This was not how she was supposed to react to his name.

"Locky. It practically rolls off the tongue, don't you think?" She smiled, slightly exposing her white teeth. It was a pretty sight. He could've stared at her for a second or an hour before he registered her answer.

Lockwood was caught off guard. "W-well, what's your name, then?"

She smiled a pearly white smile. "Wouldn't you like to find out," she said slyly.

A sweets trolley rolled down the aisle, pushed by a plump old woman. "Anything you'd like to buy?" She popped her head in the compartment.

The girl scanned the trolley, then made up her mind. She turned to Lockwood. "You'll have to buy me a liquorice to find out my name."

"I'll have a bag of liquorice, please," Lockwood immediately said to the lady, pulling out two pounds and exchanging it for a bag. He didn't know why he complied so easily - maybe he'd fallen under a trance for her.

He handed one to the girl, who looked momentarily startled before recomposing herself. "So, what's your name?" Lockwood asked.

"Florence Bonnard," she simply replied. It matched her, Lockwood thought. Prim and proper, it matched her perfect posture and neatly combed hair.

"You fence?"

"Why else would I be here? Tea time?"

"O-of course not, but you're just so pretty-"

Oh no. He'd let it slip.

Florence Bonnard's lips curled upward. "Thanks, Locky. I'll remember that on the piste."

He was suddenly scared to imagine Florence Bonnard on the piste, with her blonde hair tied up and her body in first position, sword ready to attack. With her confidence, double of his, how good could she be? Lockwood felt his stomach turn queasy. How good were the others on the train?

She poked Lockwood lightly. "Worried?" she teased. "En-garde," she mimicked a referee, "prets-" she made a face, "allez!" She pretended to poke Lockwood with her rapier, then laughed.

Lockwood couldn't help but laugh with her at her imitation.

"What's your agency?" Lockwood asked.

"That'll cost you a liquorice," she stated.

He handed her one.

"Sinclair & Saones. 'm an apprentice for 'em. You?"

"Nigel Sykes."

"Really?" she drawled. "You seem like the Rotwell type - well, then again, you weren't sitting with the lot in the first place."

"Rotwell and Fittes agents always win, don't they?"

"I'll give 'em a run for their money. How old are you?"

"Ten."

She looked up and down. "Alright then."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smirked. "Nothing... When's your birthday, then?"

He told her.

"I'm older than you."

"So what? That doesn't mean you'll be better!"

Florence Bonnard smiled. "We'll see about that."

Nigel 'Gravedigger' Sykes, or just Sykes, was Lockwood's mentor. He was a bit scraggly, but not enough to make him incompetent with a sword. He was on the slightly mad side, yes, but was an extremely skilled swordsman. Lockwood was constantly amazed by his ability.

"You rely on remises too much. Practice on your footwork, you're doubting yourself too much.”

They'd been practicing for two hours - maybe more. Lockwood didn't even bother trying to count the bouts. His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, his breaths hot in the mask. Lockwood's legs were sore and his arms hurt from all the attack, parry, and riposting he'd done.

The competition started in three days - Sykes had decided Lockwood needed to cram in as much practice as he could. On and off the piste, Lockwood could hear Sykes' voice in his head, telling him to Parry quarte or Eat your breakfast, it's free food! Food was accommodated at the hotel which sponsored DEPRAC for the competition. The rooming was nice as well, Lockwood being lucky enough to get a room to himself rather than most participants in the tournament who had to share a room.

When the competition finally rolled around, he'd won the first bout easily - almost too easily. Regardless, a win was a win, even against some Bunchurch agent with half a brain.

The real competition - or so he'd heard from rumours - was Quill Kipps of Fittes. He was apparently a prodigy fencing-god in his mid-teens, favoured by the majority of the crowd. He was tall and ginger, from what people had been telling him. Easy to spot in crowds. Lockwood was curious to see the famous Kipps in practice - rather, he was curious to see what any Fittes or Rotwell agent could bring to the table.

Lockwood had yet to see the mysterious Florence Bonnard do her bout. He was eager to do so after showering and slipping into the stands to watch the next bouts. After a win from Alexander Fawley, and another from Emily Schreiber, Quill Kipps was up. The teen was fast, and his every move was clearly calculated. It was everything Lockwood could aspire to be.

Florence Bonnard was fast as well, to Lockwood's surprise. She was extremely quick on her feet and could get a touch faster than the referee could blink after saying allez. It was impressive, being younger than a lot of contestants- and she wasn't even a Fittes or Rotwell agent.

Lockwood considered what he'd do if he was ever tasked with being her opponent, but only for a split second. It was too unrealistic he'd make it that far. But still, he had a vivid image of her lunging, ponytail swaying and rapier thrust as the tip of her blade touched his side. Now was not the time to daydream.

The second bout passed, 14-15. Lockwood had won in a landslide, attacking the split second his opponent hesitated.

After, as Lockwood chugged a bottle of water on the side, still sweaty and clad in his fencing gear, Florence Bonnard approached him. "Good bout, Locky," she said in her sly way. "Although, your footwork could be better." His gaze was stuck on her, even as she stalked off in true Florence fashion.

"Th-thanks?" It was already too late; Lockwood just watched her straw-colored hair swish away. She was one interesting girl. He sighed, staring at her back.

Lockwood's days consisted of eating, practicing, and sleeping. He would occasionally watch other agents practice, to pick up on faults and techniques they used. That's, at least, what Sykes had told him to do. Half the time Lockwood just drifted off, staring at a wall corner or, as a current example, a blonde ponytail. ...Blonde ponytail...? It was Florence Bonnard in the flesh, practicing. Of course, Lockwood just assumed this fact, judging by the fencer's posture and hair. It was unmistakably her.

Lockwood hadn't seen her much, either because their schedules didn't match up or she barely practiced. She was very good, sharp on her feet and maneuvering like she was on ice. It was scary the way she got a touch so fast. He assumed she'd practiced a great deal privately; at least, that's how he comforted himself at the sight of her skillful rapier patterns.

Lockwood's eyes jumped to a tall ginger-haired fencer - no doubt Quill Kipps, practicing a couple metres away. He, too, was skilled. Close to Florence's level, but not quite. This could be the year someone from a small agency won - though, Lockwood couldn't keep his hopes up. Being the crowd favourite, who was to say he didn't have a couple tricks up his sleeve?

Bouts three and four passed, and just somehow, Lockwood had survived into the quarterfinals. The numbers were dwindling down; Florence Bonnard, not much to his surprise, was in strong.

The quarterfinals passed, but now that he'd won, more pressure had been draped on him. Practices stretched late into the night, leaving his muscles incredibly sore and eyelids drooping on their own accord. He almost forgot to shower one day, planning to sleep in his fencing gear. Sykes had been drilling into him much more. The lineup for the semifinals was posted; Lockwood would be fencing against Quill Kipps.

To say he was nervous was an understatement. He sweated at the thought of fencing the teen. No matter how much he analyzed Kipps' fencing, he never felt ready. Sure, he wasn't as good at Florence, but she was substantially better than Lockwood - as was Kipps. The day of the bout, Lockwood almost froze before walking in, trying not to look at the crowd. It was bigger than any he had fenced for before. He sucked in two deep breaths then pulled the mask over his face. Sykes patted him, whispered quick advice in his ear. Lockwood wasn't paying attention, more focused on the judges, rhe referee, and the feeling of his feet on the ground. He and Kipps did the salute, like any other bout.

The referee started to speak, also like any other bout. The words were muffled in Lockwood's jumbled mind. His thoughts were racing at 100 kilometers per second, tumbling around each other, unlike any other bout - but he didn't need to hear the words regardless. He knew what they were.

"En-garde."

Lockwood stared at Kipps.

"Prets."

He took a deep breath, readying himself.

"Allez!"

The bout began.

Immediately, swords clinked and clashed against each other as the agents attempted to protect themselves. Lockwood's mind went pure blank, and his body went into autopilot.

1-0. Sure, a rough start, but he could catch up.

1-1. Tied, that was okay.

2-3. Lockwood was in the lead-

5-7. Halfway there!

11-10. No, losing wasn't an option-

13-14. His sword was a blur in front of him, basically acting of its own accord. Parry, riposte, attack-! It was all too quick. Kipps had lost his balance, and Lockwood took the opportunity. He lunged, slashed with his blade just to earn a point. His blade felt something soft - he got a touch! - but then Lockwood actually looked at the tip of his blade.

Quill Kipps was stunned entirely. He'd fallen on the piste and stared up at the younger agent. The moment was silent; practically in slow motion. The crowd held their breath in disbelief.

Lockwood had struck Quill Kipps with his rapier on the bum. The judges were in shock. It was a touch, though, right? It... counted? The referee gestured, and Lockwood pulled his raper away.

The bout ended.

Lockwood won. Lockwood won, against the star of Fittes agency. Quill Kipps, meanwhile, fumed. His cheeks were redder than his hair, which was matted with sweat.

"I'll beat you next time, Anthony Lockwood..." he murmured.

The crowd was having its fun; booing in disappointment or cheering in amusement, Lockwood couldn't tell. He convinced himself it was the latter. He didn't mean to stab Kipps in the bum. It just happened. It's not like anyone ever goes into a bout thinking, "Oh, yeah, I'm going to riposte a clean one up his bum."

Sykes was impressed, though he seemed more pleased by the last touch Lockwood earned.

"You'll be going up against that Bonnard girl, so you better clean up that footwork of yours. Her bladework is quite fine, too, I'd say. Sharpen yourself up, Anthony - no pun intended."

Practice, as always, lasted to the evening - Lockwood had just gotten out of the locker room, hair wet from his shower when he heard a familiar rasping tone.

"Locky~" Florence Bonnard sing-songed, conveniently leaning on a pillar outside.

He approached her.

"Finals are tomorrow," she said, smiling. Her teeth glinted - it was charming. Her eyes shimmered a bright blue - when had he missed this feature of hers? She was breathtaking. He didn't react, dumbly nodding as he stared at her.

"Oh, and by the way? Stop staring at me sometimes, it's creepy, Locky. I know you like me, but you're too... you." She tapped his nose, ignited a blush across Lockwood's cheeks.

"Cute," she commented. "See you on the piste." She walked away in her typical manner.

Florence Bonnard beat him the next day, 13-15. It was completely fair. Her attacks were clean and precise, and she hesitated not a second. It was a blur in Lockwood's head; one second her blade was against his torso; the next, her blade had touched him 14 other times and the referee proclaimed her the winner. He wasn't disappointed, however - she, from a small agency, had won, not a Fittes or a Rotwell agent. He decided it was well-earned on her part, completely ignoring the way she had so softly put him down the day previous. She was just so attractive.

She gave him a toothy smile after the bout and patted his shoulder. "Don't be too upset, Locky." It was safe to say he wasn't.

2 years later.

It was terrible. It was one of those moments in your life where you can recount every detail of where you were and what you were doing exactly when it happened; heck, you could even recite the exact seconds.

Lockwood was reading the morning newspaper, sipping his pulp orange juice (the joys of being a blue whale!) when he read the news.

Both Sinclair and Saones (of the Sinclair & Saones agency) had died on a case, with poor Florence Bonnard being the only survivor. Florence Bonnard - the name reminded Lockwood of so much; mainly, his puppy crush on her when he was younger. He failed to see the appeal now, but platonically, she was wonderful, despite how much she demanded liquorice.

He visited her on the shorelines of the River Thames; it was mainly where she resided, to the most of Lockwood's knowledge. He slipped a bag of liquorice hidden under his coat for her.

Her appearance was slightly disheveled and a straw hat covered the half of her face.

"Locky!" she croaked, but her voice lacked its usual mirth. In fact, it was incredibly fragile; to put an exclamation mark after it would never properly do it justice. She looked cold, shivering in what appeared to be her agent clothing. Her rapier was still attached to her side.

"You're shaking." Lockwood sat beside her.

"A-am I, Locky?" she hiccupped. She took a deep, shaky breath, then laughed, an echo of bitterness and a sore throat.

"I heard what happened," he said softly. "How?"

"How else, Locky?" she said, less of a question than a horrible revelation. Her voice was terribly sad, full of pain and memories. "It was ghost-touch. I protected myself with an iron cross 'til dawn against the Limbless." Her fists clenched in her skirt. A tear dropped down her cheek - which Lockwood noticed to have fresh, small scars and what looked like to be traces of tears on her slightly muddied face. It was the exact opposite from the pristine, composed Florence he'd known for so long.

"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be."

"Did you get hurt anywhere?"

She shrugged, wincing as she touched her cheek.

"I could-"

"Don't. It'll heal on its own." He wanted to tell her to clean it as well, but he could tell she'd turn down the advice in the same manner.

"Well," Lockwood said, "what are you doing next?"

Her grip tightened on the fabric of her skirt. "I don't know."

"You could train with me," Lockwood offered gently. "I don't have an agency or anything, but-"

"I-I think I'll try that. Thank you, Lockwood."

"Also, I brought these." He handed her the bag of liquorice.

A slight smile appeared from under her hat.

Her swordsmanship was still intact. Lockwood could for sure confirm this after she'd disarmed him 5 times. She'd lost her will, though. She looked pained picking up a rapier and could barely glance at salt bombs. Lockwood didn't ask. It seemed too personal. Over the course of 3 months, nothing had changed. If anything, it seemed to be harder and harder for her to fight properly.

"Locky... I don't think I can do this."

"Do what?" Lockwood knew perfectly well what she was referring to. "You're amazing with your rapier, still."

"This whole... 'agent' thing. I-I don't think I can go back." She was incredibly vulnerable with no snarky remarks or sarcasm in her voice. It hurt him to see her like this. He'd once felt similar, in his pain-filled rage when Jessica died. He couldn't look at ghosts, couldn't bear to think of them. Unlike Florence, however, he'd had rage to direct toward ghosts; she just felt pain.

Lockwood nodded. "You're sure?"

"It's been 3 months. Every time- every time I can still see their bodies next to me. Hear the screams, see the Limbless. I can't do it."

He hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. "I understand. But- what will you do?"

"I'll find something, I'm sure."

"I'm always here, Florence. I've been thinking about starting an agency, so if you need anything..."

Florence Bonnard smiled her classic grin. She patted his hair - he took so long gelling it in the morning.... Her blue eyes shone like the sea. "Don't worry yourself, Locky. I've got this."

For months, Florence wandered from thing to thing in search of replacement for being an agent. She hadn't found much. With the Problem raging, agents were in the highest demand, and it was hard to ignore all of the flyers and inquiries looking for one. Lockwood had been concerned she'd find nothing, constantly reminding her of his offer. One thing was clear, though: she was never becoming an agent again. She didn't need to say the words, but it was mutually understood even as Lockwood asked her to train with him.

Slowly, she gravitated toward relic collecting. It exercised her Talent, yet comforted her. She could be free from expectations, and not have to be perfect or clean; she could collect the relics on the River Thames and sell them. It would sustain her and calm her. Most importantly, it was an environment she was comfortable in.

As time went on, her straw hat became faded of color and gained splotches of mud on them. She traded her agent fit for a padded jacket and Wellington boots. It suit the job. For once, maybe she was happy.

"So, you're sure you don't want to become an agent?"

"Locky, the only reason I came was because you said you had liquorice. I'm perfectly happy as a relic woman." She smoothed down her padded jacket and adjusted her signature straw hat.

"I have my license now. I'm recruiting-"

"I'm happy where I am, thank you very much." She took a sip of tea and plopped a liquorice in her mouth.

Lockwood sighed. Florence Bonnard, as always, was impenetrably stubborn. she'd started going by Flo Bones, which was catchy, and fit her relic woman persona. Lockwood respected this. He could see how happy it made her, though not particularly sanitary. He recalled the day she'd first told him of her new occupation. They'd been sitting on the banks of the River Thames, near where Lockwood had comforted her the morning after tragedy struck her.

"So... you're becoming a Relicwoman? Where will you get the sources?"

"The river has enough," she gestured to the muddy shore of the river. "My Sight's been getting stronger."

"Be careful, Flor-"

"Oh, and Locky, I've started going by Flo Bones - it's quite fitting, don't you think? I like it. It's catchy." She'd lifted her hat, just enough to wink at Lockwood before pulling it down again.

"Well, my offer will always stand, Flo. You're a spectacular agent - you know my address. 35 Portland Row, hasn't changed."

"You haven't an agency to work for, Locky, have you?" Flo mused bluntly.

"Working on the license. I plan to open my own agency, agent run. What d'you reckon I call it? I was thinking 'Lockwood and Company.'"

Flo gave a grunt of approval. "'Lockwood and Co.' It's decent."

"Thanks, Flo."

She'd nodded. "Now go. I can't be seen hanging about the lots of the upper class. See you, Locky."

He pushed the bag of liquorices to her, the memory making him smile sadly. "It's all yours."

Lockwood couldn't find any agents willing to work for him. Flo, being one of his main friends, was painfully aware of this fact, subject to his forever hanging offer of employment.

"Oh, cheer up. Don't be lonely. You'll find someone. Lockwood & Co.! It'll be known through all of England." She softened for a second. "Anyway, I have an auction to attend." She stood up, bits of dirt falling from her jacket. "Bye, Locky!" He reached out to her then restrained himself - but she'd already exited 35 Portland Row, shutting the door behind her.

"Bye, Flo." He stared at the closed door, at his slightly outstretched hand. He could only hope she was right, and he'd find someone soon.

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #flo bones #florence bonnard #lockwood #the screaming staircase #lockwood x flo #what is the ship name for them???#fencing #fluff #jonathan stroud #fanfic #angst #lockwood fluff #lockwood angst #lucy carlyle #george cubbins #*silverspectre

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anjelicablogshawaii · 3 years

Text

The Call

So much of my life has been marked by my struggle to find a home that sometimes I think that I don’t spend enough time thinking about my search for a calling. Maybe it’s because they’re so intertwined that it’s hard for me to separate one from the other. Admittedly, it’s a strange train of thought, but I’m a writer, and strange is my native milieu.

I bounced around from major to major in college... I probably looked like the ultimate commitment-phone with all of my major changes looking for the major that would be just right. There were a lot that were almost right. But, for various reasons (math requirements, boredom, burnout, too many gut feelings while looking at my degree audit trying to figure out how to graduate in four years...), they didn’t work out.

My interests are wide enough that often, I can see several options and feel that I could be happy with any of them, which makes figuring out My Calling even more difficult.

In high school, I thought that going to Stony Brook was what would make me happy, but I wasn’t any happier there than I was in high school. I was actually miserable. My boss knew I wanted to transfer, and one day when I showed up for work, he ordered me to his work truck. When I asked him where we were going, he reiterated that I was going to his work truck. He drove me out to a satellite campus on the East End, parked at the dock, and as I got out of his truck, a breeze kicked up over the Bay. I started crying. I blamed it on the sun. It wasn’t the sun. It was enough, for a while.

Over winter break my second year of college, I visited my godparents in Utah. God found me again in a mission church on the edge of the Navajo Nation, and I didn’t want to finish school without figuring out what God was asking of me. I wanted to take time off to do a certificate program through a seminary, but that didn’t go over well with my family. I decided to put all of my energy into getting out of college as fast as I possibly could so that I could pursue ordination and get myself back to the Navajo Nation. I even had a job offer waiting for me to sign on the dotted line. But it didn’t work out. And I was devastated.

I applied to grad school, went to Kenya, found a place that I loved, a place that needed help as much as I needed the feeling of wholeness I found there. I had little to offer, because what good is English language when there is no water? So, I went to Hawaii to learn how to farm sustainably and efficiently, and fell in love with a completely different environment, and somehow, I found myself, too. It wasn’t perfect. There were fights with the cook, conflicts amongst members of my Esky team, vastly different expectations of how our time would be spent and who we would answer directly to... It was different than we expected, but it was wonderful, too. I daydreamed about what I would do next. There was a Fulbright Fellowship on the slow food movement that I thought would compliment the farming bit well, but I didn’t want to leave Hawaii. I asked if I could apply for a second year. And then I broke my finger, got a sunburn, and got a rash. I knew what it meant; I just hoped I was wrong. I wasn’t.

Going back to Hawaii would be a fatal mistake.

I never understood how one sentence could shatter your life until that appointment. My plans to return to finish out my contract, my plans to go to Italy, my plans to go back to Kenya and spend my life there... They were all gone, only I knew they existed, and I couldn’t pretend they hadn’t for the sake of getting on with things. Still, life went on. I had to make calls.

I called my Esky Director. I felt horrible. I was offered the first contract on my team, and I was letting him and my team down. The reasons why didn’t matter. They were depending on me and I couldn’t follow through. He wasn’t surprised; I’d been gone long enough that he doubted there would be good news about what was making me so sick, but he had hoped, and I had, too. In every moment of fear before I’d left for Hawaii, and in every moment of fear I’d had before I had a diagnosis, I reminded myself that the will of God would never take me anywhere that the grace of God would not also protect me. And yet: everything I wanted to do, everything I felt called to do, every certainty I’d felt in my bones had been taken from me. It didn’t seem like there was a surplus of people who wanted to move to a remote, politically unstable region of the Horn of Africa. Why would I be taken out of the equation? What good could I do the world inside all of the limitations of my new life? How was that time better spent than it would have been going through the mystics with my Hawaiian spiritual director? What did the chronic pain teach me? My suffering was, for years, so intense that if I were a house pet, I would have been put down because it was inhumane to leave me in pain. But I had to endure it.

I knew that I would never know how or why, and that made it so much harder to endure it all.

For years, I could hardly dream any new dreams for my life. It felt useless; even if I loved something, it would probably be outside of my capabilities, or something else would happen to take it away from me. And I’d had my calling. I couldn’t do it. Nothing came to replace it. Nothing eased that ache. I started to believe that I would spend the rest of my life with the phantom pain of my lost calling.

I went back to Hawaii for a writers conference I’d been planning to attend before I got sick. It wasn’t painful. In fact, I felt happier than I had in years. When I swam in the Bay, it was like she remembered me. Like she was welcoming me home again. Slowly, the pain released its grip on me. And as it did, I waited for the day I would wake up and know that I had a new calling. A few years went by. No calling came.

Before I turned 30, I asked my Esky boss why there was no new calling. “It’s been 6 years.” I told him. Plenty of time for a Type A Perfectionist to decide that God’s missing the cues. In a surprising turn of events, I found a new calling, and made lists and worked towards my goals. In a more surprising turn of events, a worldwide pandemic hit, and all of my plans and all of my lists went up in smoke. In the most shocking turn of events of all, it’s been a year since that pandemic started, and I’ve moved from despair to productivity. I’ve done more continuing ed this last year than I’d done in the previous ten--by a lot!

Last spring--and I couldn’t even tell you how I found them--I came across a school and realized that I wanted to do every single degree they offered. I was in a panic about the future of my life, and decided that going back to grad school for housing security was a terrible idea. I had plenty to keep busy with without throwing grad school into the mix, so I moved on. I wrote, I learned, I meditated, I tentatively made new lists and new plans, but I still had terrible uncertainty hanging over my head. We moved. I came back to those programs, and read them all again. And in the unexpected and inexplicable way that it is when the Spirit moves, the path forward became clear. Joseph Campbell said, “Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”

I have struggled in the 8 years since I graduated to fully articulate how I see the interdisciplinary sustainability work of my BA working with my MFA in writing, beyond that I was interested in both fields, so I got a degree in each. The graduate certificate I’m taking now has bridged those fields in a way that feels exciting and natural. I feel like I got new glasses and now the fuzzy world has been rendered clear, sharp, and vivid.

It turns out that the questions I’ve been asking and the things I like do actually go together... I just needed to find a place that understood those questions, and I think I have. I also needed not only to be ready, but to feel ready to undertake the work. While I still struggle with my imposter syndrome some days, one of the liberating and wonderful surprises of my thirties is that after graduating with an MFA at 23 and deferring to others for years, I finally feel like I can speak with authority, and not only on matters of writing or text analysis. I know a lot! And people value my insights! (Crazy, right?)

I also know that no matter what I do, or where I go, all roads lead me back to Hawaii. That is where my heart is at home, and where my spirit feels settled.

#anjelicablogshawaii #Anjelica blogs Hawaii

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fluideli123 · 4 years

Text

A Story

So, I’ve recently been inspired to write a story for Ninjago and I’ve only written the prologue since I wanna write it for everyone, people even not in the Ninjago fandom and all that. I’ve also been editing the hell out of it and listening to it from text-to-speech stuff because I just all of a sudden got really passionate about this story. I even have my co-editors editing it in their free time I’m so invested in this story. Anyway, I wanted to post the first chapter (Still being edited) here before I actually post it, because, well, why not? I havn’t posted in awhile and I’ve been working on this story nonstop for maybe, a week? I don’t know, it started out as a prompt and practice and than ended as a whole story with twists and stuff. So, I’m just going to leave below the line on what I have so far, I hope you enjoy it?

The link if you just want to see this story is here: X

Cole's head softly nodded to the beat of the music playing loudly in his ears from a newly bought headset, continuously humming the lyrics from the songs by heart. The earth ninja had his back against his pillows with a notebook and pen placed on his lap doodling mindlessly. His mind was alive with thoughts and memories for an unknown amount of time.

Some days he would be with his team with no need to fight, saving people, and with no missions to complete. Other days where he had either enough time on his hands to sit down and lose himself in more than just additional training or had too much time than he knew how to deal with. He didn't know which was worse sometimes.

However, Lloyd had it the worst out of the whole team, he spent most of his life, if not all of it, fighting and training. Lloyd even lost his entire childhood to become the destined Green Ninja. Cole still felt sympathy over the day that Lloyd lost his childhood. Cole and his teammates, Kai, Jay, and Zane, met Lloyd when he was only nine years old. But one day, the whole team was turned into kids. An extinct Grundle was brought back to life to hunt them all down, leaving Lloyd to help them get back to normal since he was unaffected. Cole still remembered how he and his team members were in fear as the once extinct ninja hunter towered over them. It was a hideous creature with thin sharp teeth and razor-sharp talons, its scales were blood red, its body was littered in spikes, and long catfish-like whiskers on either side of its lips. They were all quivering in fear until Sensi Wu appeared with Nya, they were carrying a tea that they tossed over to the ninjas. This tea would reverse all the effects that caused them to turn into kids. But as Sensi Wu forewarned, the tea would also affect Lloyd, turning him older with the rest of them. Lloyd had heard this, yet, he still grabbed the brew and threw it at the monster, it turned to bones while the rest of them spontaneously aged older. He selflessly sacrificed his own childhood to save them, adding more weight to the things he already bared at such a young age. The kid could use a break just as much as everyone else.

Sadly, Cole doubted that would ever happen for any of them.

Cole frowned, his thoughts now souring his peaceful mood. He closed the notebook and placed it back in its proper spot, a drawer within his nightstand. Tidying up his pens, he sets them by the journal, closing the drawer before also pausing his music, taking off his headphones, and setting the two items on the nightstand.

Cole let out a sigh, closing his eyes and running a hand through his messy black hair. He was overthinking again, a byproduct of the peace in the world, as unfortunate as that was. The earth ninja stood up, stretching his arms above his head to work out the kinks in his back before making his way through the hall, trying to clear his mind before heading into the kitchen. As Cole stepped into the kitchen, he smelt the scent of strawberries and honey, noticing that the temperature was also mellow. What the earth ninja saw, though, was a sheen on a metallic body and the white of a gi with quick hands slicing something on the counter.

Only one name appeared in Cole's mind, one that was accompanied by a warm feeling in his chest and a small soft smile on his lips.

Zane.

The Nindroid faced Cole, his once focused icy blue eyes turning into their usual warmth as he beamed, realizing Cole had entered the room. Cole's own smile grew from the sight of Zane's smile, a swell in his heart forming, making the feeling in his chest rise. Even though Zane was the master of ice and a Nindroid, he had the most sunshiny smiles and had tender eyes, softening you from the inside out.

"Cole," Zane said, his words calm and witty with only a slightly robotic tone. "I see you've finally decided to leave your room. I was beginning to wonder whether you'd be trapped in there forever."

The earth ninja rolled his eyes as he made his way over to the ice ninja, becoming enthralled with the remark. Cole had recently been in his room more often than he was training, the team, for some reason, found that as something to make quips about. Cole would be lying if he didn't enjoy some of the banterings that would sometimes ensue, especially with Zane. He wasn't too good at understanding humor or joking, but when he did, it always made Cole chuckle, even if it wasn't something exceedingly funny.

"Oh, me being stuck in my room?" Cole answered, placing a hand on his chest dramatically, his words dripping in a little bit of playful sarcasm. "I could never! How could I ever stay in there without the most delicious thing ever made to keep me company? I, of course, need a cake to keep me thriving if I were to be trapped."

Zane shook his head a bit as Cole chuckled at his own comment, still smiling as he looked back at the strawberries he was cutting. Remembering the smell in the air and seeing Zane slicing the fruit, Cole looked over to the oven out of curiosity, seeing the light on.

"So, what are you making there, frosty?" Cole asked, looking back to the Nindroid and leaning to the side to peak over Zane's tall form.

"Strawberry Bread," Zane affirms as he places the knife down, lifting the cutting board to pour the fruits in a green plastic bowl. Setting the board down he quietly, says excuse me to Cole, who moves out of the way. Zane bends down, grabbing pink oven mitts in the process, and opens the oven pulling out a pink and golden brown bread. He stands up and places it on cooling racks on the counter, the opposite side of the stove where he was slicing the berries. The smell was sweet and had Cole's mouth-watering as Zane continued to speak. "Jay had spoken about how I cook so well that I should try making some more desserts instead of dinner foods. He suggested I start on something with fruit, so I did."

Cole nodded, sitting down at the table. Zane had always been the one to cook for the whole team after they realized how much everyone else's cooking sucked, and how the ice ninja's cookery was remarkably good. Zane could cook anything you wanted after he researched as much as he could on it, whether that be from books from the libraries in Ninjago City or from any digital device hooked to the internet. He liked to be informed and probably knew facts that no one else knew about, just because he enjoys learning things.

Zane has always been strange to everyone, even when Zane himself didn't know he was a Nindroid. It was just a feeling that Zane had given off. Of course, the team loved him like a brother, yet that didn't stop everyone from recognizing how different Zane was. When Cole, Kai, Jay, and Zane lived in Wu's Monastery, everyone would notice how Zane lived in his own world, while training. He would possibly bow at a wooden training dummy, or be utterly confused with expressions. Zane couldn't understand humor at all either, but Cole still found it often endearing, even back then when they annoyed him sometimes.

Nevertheless, one time the whole team, including Sensei Wu and Nya, got in a food fight during supper. Zane had stood there watching them throw his food around, unable to understand why everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. Cleaning up after the ninja's ruinous fight, Zane had left outside with all the wasted food and tossed it in the trash. Zane had told the team that while doing so, he had met a falcon sitting on a branch above him, the bird following his exact movements as the ice ninja felt an ease with the bird. Unable to explain it, the bird had appeared another day, guiding Zane to Lloyd's secret hideout when he was with the Serpentine, which were snakes that wanted to get revenge on Ninjago for sealing them underground. Zane had gone back to the Monastery after finding Lloyd's lair in the trees to notify the team.

Cole has known for a long time that he has feelings towards Zane, even if it just began as a physical attraction. But that didn't prevent Cole's emotions growing over the years, his attempts to try and repress his feelings and only focus on viewing Zane as a brother like he did everyone else, had backfired on him. He often caught himself daydreaming about Zane without meaning to. There were just so many things about Zane that Cole couldn't help but to like about the ice ninja.

One of the first things that Cole liked about Zane was his eyes, whether that was sappy or not, it was true. When Cole first met Zane, his eyes were more human-like, a dull icy blue, still soft and kind when he looked at his teammates and friends but also appeared to be inquisitive or searching as if trying to understand something or learn something when he looked at you. Cole enjoyed the color more than when Zane looked at people back then, especially when it was dark, and his eyes would look too bright to be human. Nowadays, Cole just liked everything about Zane's eyes, like how they were robotically inhuman. Cole adored how they always seemed to be vivid and definite than a typical human's eyes, no matter how intense the light was, they would be slightly brighter.

The second thing Cole liked about Zane was his hands. He remembered how perplexed Zane was when he inquired why Cole had been gazing at his hands strangely. Cole had stated that he had never felt hands so cold before, even though it was the truth too, it wasn't the real reason why he sat there blatantly staring like a fool. Cole just liked that even after all the labor of training and fighting, that the ninja's hands weren't rough and hard like you'd expect them to be. In fact, they were soft and smooth like delicate fallen snow that doesn't cling together and as smooth as a thick formed icicle hovering from the roof. Now, the only thing that has changed is that his hands are sleek instead of soft from not having his albino synthetic skin, more gentle when they touched things now too. It's something Cole constantly daydreams about more often than anything else, as much as that irritates him. He regularly tries to push away the intruding thoughts, but the skin on his hands and face always tingle, even after he snaps out of his thoughts and into reality. Like if Zane was the ghost instead, and he couldn't truly touch Cole.

Cole could go on and on, describing every little detail about how beautiful Zane was from the inside out. But, out of everything he can explain, there is one thing he cherishes about Zane over everything else he could ever try to describe. It's something even Cole can't always name sometimes, and it's just how Zane is, well, Zane. The Nindroid will invariably do something outlandish like randomly stop moving and sit there for a while doing something in his head, or till someone questions what the hell he's doing. It's the same thing when he'll spend hours talking about how absurd people's theories are on multiple topics or randomly start talking about a fact no one else asked to hear. Even if Cole couldn't understand what Zane was prattling about or thinking, Cole would listen anyway.

Cole shakes his thoughts out of his head before he looks at Zane as he takes off one pink oven mitt and grabs a spatula, stabbing at the sides of the bread pan, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration. As the earth ninja took notice to the sight of no honey on the kitchen counter, he opened his mouth to ask why it smelt like it too if it was strawberry bread that Zane was making. That was, however, cut short when Jay walked into the room, answering his question before it even left his mouth. The lightning ninja held a white platter in his hands that held crumbs, strawberries and what could, and hopefully be, smeared honey on it. He placed the plate down in the sink before turning to the ice ninja with a toothy smile on his face.

"You are so good at cooking, I swear!" Jay exclaimed before he looked to Cole and made his way over, almost bouncing in place. "Have you tried it yet, Cole? Because you should! Zane made a hell of a new dessert, and oh my gosh, it's so good! You have to try it!" Jay whipped his head back to Zane, who was smiling proudly from the comments Jay was shouting left and right, no doubt. "Did he already? Oh, come on, he had to at least have stolen some when you weren't looking!"

Zane shook his head in negative, triggering a dramatic gasp from the lightning ninja, who quickly turned his head back to Cole. He looked determined, and before Cole could add his two cents to the conversation, Jay took him by the arm and drew him to the counter where he had formerly been standing with Zane, and grabbed a slice of bread and shoved it in his hands. Jay let go of his arm and looked at him expectantly, a look that gave off a false superiority sometimes, as it did now. Cole just raised an eyebrow at Jay, who pursed his lips and placed his own hands on his hips. It reminded Cole of those Ninjago City mom's who was about to say "excuse me?" bitterly because someone cut in line or did something offensive to them. Cole snorted at the thought, giving in and taking a large bite out of the bread only to cover his mouth when his eyes widened, and a muffled surprise escaped his throat.

The damn bread wasn't chewy or crumbled apart too effortlessly, and it wasn't bland either, it was right in the middle and tasted like the berry it was made with without being too sweet. If Cole was incapable of loving cake as much as he did, he would probably just go off and marry this dish instead. Actually, no, Cole should go off and marry Zane, who is capable of making not only this bread but also cake, which would make a triple-win scenario.

That thought knocked him back into the present, his cheeks slightly gaining color.

Jay laughed and patted Cole's shoulder as he swallowed down the piece of bread. Apparently, he was amused by his reaction to Zane's baking skills. This shouldn't be a surprise, he was a badass in the kitchen like in the battlefield, as stated before.

"What I tell you," The lightning ninja beamed at Cole as he continued. "It's good, isn't it?"

Cole rolled his eyes. "Well, yeah, duh, Zane made it, of course, it's going to be good." He looked over to the ice ninja, who was patiently slicing the now cooled batch, Cole witnessed Zane pull out of the oven before. "You really outdid yourself again, Zane." "Why thank you, I was honestly about to think that Jay was overreacting to not hurt my feelings on possibly not making the bread well." Zane replies as he places all the pieces of bread in a clear plastic container. "However, I believe I should put these away till after dinner. I can already tell you two might try to grab for more, even though Jay has already eaten quite a few."

A loud, “awe man, no fair” came from Cole as Jay crossed his arms and seemed to now be sulking. Zane chuckled as he closed the lid and placed the container on top of the fridge, out of reach from anyone who didn’t grab a chair, climb the counters or who were tall enough to grab it by themselves. Sadly, no one was as tall enough to reach Zane’s height completely without putting something under their feet to gain a few more inches. It seemed the bread was held captive for the time being. That reminds him.

"Wait, how many did you eat, Jay?" Cole inquired as he looked over to the ninja in question. Jay looked over at Cole with wide eyes, as if caught in a terrible act that shouldn't be spoken about.

"Uh," Jay looked around the room as if it was supposed to help him answer the question. "Would you believe me if I said two slices was all I had?"

"No."

Jay frowned before he crossed his arms and pouted like a young child, a quiet "damn it" being muttered under his breath before he lifted a hand with five fingers up. Cole stared at the ninja's fingers. Why was he holding up-

Oh.

He burst out laughing as he high fived Jay's hand. "Oh my god, you couldn't have beaten my record! I can't believe you actually ate five!" Cole joked, Jay huffed again and stuck his tongue out at Cole, causing him to laugh harder.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up dirt boy," Jay poked Cole's chest. "I only did it because Zane's cooking is awesome, and it was just a warm-up to when I beat you at your own food game."

The food game Jay was speaking of was a competition between him and Cole about whoever beats the other's score on eating the most in one day, wins. Every month, there was a day that the person surpasses last month's score, or tries to and fails. If you retain or beat the score, the loser must do the other’s chores or buy them something out of their own pocket when asked. So far, the high score was held by Cole, with three plates of two giant full-sized flour tortilla cheese and bean burritos. The whole team, Cole, Zane, Jay, Nya, Kai, and Lloyd, all went out last month to Kai and Nya's favorite restaurant, Taco Loco Pequeño César's. It was there that he not only won that month for his game but also won a sombrero and cool black sunglasses from the restaurant to congratulate him on winning their eating competition. It was the best day to see Jay's face go red in anger and brood for the rest of the day, Cole just rubbed it in his face by walking around wearing the sunglasses and sombrero he won. Kai even taught him some Spanish words, specifically "gané" and "perdedor" to further torture, Jay. Plus, the only reason Jay wanted Cole to believe he only ate two slices of the bread Zane made today was that he has to be ashamed of only eating five pieces and thinking that could beat the burritos.

"Say whatever you want sparky," Cole said, poking Jay back. "You can't beat the master."

Jay scoffed, looking to Zane, who was silently cleaning up after himself. "Zane, come on, Cole isn't the master of eating, right? I mean, I've eaten just as much as him, right?"

Zane looked up from pulling on his household gloves, staring at Jay for a moment before answering. "According to what I've witnessed, and from other information about both your eating habits. There is a twenty percent chance that you have eaten anything slightly near the amount Cole has consumed. Ten percent being-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Zane, you don't have to hurt my pride more." Jay insisted, cutting off Zane with a wave of his hand in the Nindroids direction. Zane frowned before he turned away from the two, and moved towards the sink where he collected all the dishes.

"I don't understand why you two believe the consumption of the most nutrients, is something to be made into a competition," Zane commented, his words less chipper than they had been moments ago. "You could harm yourselves by consuming too much that you get yourselves sick, or consume too much of a substance and damage yourselves."

"Well, then we'll have to be careful," Jay said, shrugging, walking towards a chair and sitting down on it, folding his arms on one of the legs placed against his chest.

"Yeah, plus, if we get hurt, it'll be our fault anyway," Cole chimed in, sitting on the table with his feet swinging below him as he watched Zane. "We're just a couple of competitive dumbasses."

Zane continued to wash dishes, silent. Cole sat there for a moment, wondering if Jay had interrupted the ice ninja a bit too harshly, that being the cause of the Nindroid’s silence. That was debunked, however, when Zane's shoulders fell as he let out a sigh of defeat.

"I know," Zane replied, turning around and leaning on the side of the kitchen sink, a sponge in hand scrubbing a big white mixing bowl. "I'm just concerned for your well being, especially after Cole's appetite last month." He gave Cole a pointed look. "You could have gotten ill after devouring all of those burritos."

Cole let out an airy chuckle as he brushed a hand through his hair, looking away from the look he was being given. Ah, yes, he almost forgot the lecture the ice ninja had given him afterward.

"You made a point there, I doubt Jay could eat that much without getting a major stomach ache," Cole noted, laughing at Jay's insulted face as he quickly looked back to Cole. Zane laughed too, a smile on his lips again as he turned away and placed the white bowl down on the other side of the divided sink with other soapy dishes.

Time flew after that, Cole had stayed in the kitchen with Zane and Jay since they had nothing better to do than talk, jabbing jokes at each other. Zane had spent most of his day cooking and reading a new book he'd gotten, named Sunrays of Serenity. It was a poem book that someone had recommended to him at the library one day, saying it was something Zane should read. It seemed to be something that the ice ninja could try and think about. Zane said it had plenty of hidden meanings and was chock-full of phrases, giving Zane material to analyze and ponder about, unlike the science and machine books he'd usually borrow.

Jay, on the other hand, had spent his day with his girlfriend Nya, building and brainstorming new ideas that they could work on together, or by themselves. The two were in love with constructing and understanding machines, and most of the time, worked well with each other, taking turns fixing things around the place and talking things out. The two were the perfect match in Cole's opinion, for more than one reason, of course, even if he did place a wedge in between them at one point. Cole's anger had gotten the best of him, creating one of his least proud moments, but one that he regrets every day.

It's also something Cole had recognized over the years when being with his team, actually, since Nya is stubborn and her brother Kai is short-tempered, Jay being the embodiment of an unpredictable explosion. Cole, however, he was just angry. That's all it was for him. The earth ninja wasn't headstrong unless it was necessary, he wasn't gruff, having things irritate him quickly and he wasn't inconstant. He felt angry from time to time, like an itch under his skin that wouldn't go away. It was often bothersome and only made him more upset when he realized the feeling.

He wished it would go away.

The notebook he had been doodling in before, holds pieces of what he lets out of his anger, at least the ones captured on paper, that is. Drawing himself engulfed by green and black, or standing in a battlefield of fallen enemies, him standing above them all. Cole even once drew a picture of himself standing in front of a mirror, his reflection showing something dark and fiery on the other side, like a melted creature representing how Cole viewed his rage. The journal wasn't even for merely his anger. He had pictures of his family lying dead upon the ground, his team being a part of his family, while he kneeled with them, the only one alive out of everyone he ever cared for. His slightly better pictures, like when he drew himself treading on lily pads, the pastel colors, conflicting with his dark gi and skin, revealing his misplacement in tranquil environments. His happier pictures, which were always sweet, were drawings of his friends happy or doing activities.

Ones where he drew Lloyd sitting in a field of flowers seeming serene, his shoulders no longer tense, his jaw no longer clenching and eyes showing no sign of the constant sorrow they hold. He had sketches too, like ones of Jay sitting over his workshop, tools scattered every which way. Kai and Nya asleep on the couch, her head on Kai's shoulder.

One of Cole's favorites by far, though, were the drawings of the landscapes of the places he's been to as a ninja. They always seemed to come out steady and how Cole had meant them to look, which is hard to do because there is something that comes out wrong each time. There would be times where Cole had paintings of his team where they're poses were wonky, their eyes different from the left, or he accidentally colored with the wrong color. But, the landscapes and places never had the same problems.

What was strange to Cole, was that he would have never guessed that when Sensi Wu had handed him the large red covered journal, when the group split up, that he would confide in it to express himself, when he didn't feel like training. Cole had usually just trained to let out all his emotions, not finding another outlet for them to flow. He was thankful to Wu for giving him another place to let everything go. It often helped him when he woke up from his constant nightmares.

"Hey, ya'll," A familiar voice said, breaking Cole from his thoughts as he was listening to Jay think out loud about making a mechanical dog for him and Nya, instead of going out and buying a dog, and Zane informing him of what that choice would intel. The earth ninja looked to the doorway along with Jay, seeing white blonde hair and emerald green eyes, accompanied by a green gi. "The others were wondering if you guys started dinner yet, or not."

Cole didn't have an answer for Lloyd, he had been trying to avoid looking at Zane in fear of staring like a crush infused creep. But when Cole looked over to Zane, who was wearing a pink apron now, he was about to answer their leader without even looking up from the pot he was stirring, reading the poem book. When did he even start cooking again? Did Cole really get that wrapped up in Jay's talk on robo-dogs, and his own thoughts? Well then, at least he gets to eat soon.

"Dinner is not quite finished, but it should be in a few more moments," Zane stated, raising the scoop from the pot, where Cole sat, he could see baby shrimp, noodles, and various spices before Zane took a sip, tasting his soup. The ice ninja placed the spoon back in the large pot, he continued to stir as he picked up a salt shaker and added some salt. "I would recommend rounding everyone up and having them sit at the table. It should be done when everyone has a bowel ready and is seated properly."

Lloyd nodded his head in acknowledgment, gesturing for Cole and Jay to follow him. The two did instantly, joining him in the hall, Lloyd asked for Jay to go get Nya, and Cole to go get Kai, while Lloyd went to see if Sensi Wu and his mother, Misako, wanted to join them. Cole split from the small group, and after Kai, the fire ninja was likely blacksmithing locally at Herald's Shop, a place just down from where the whole crew stayed. Cole summoned his earth elemental dragon, Heath, and quickly made his way to the small shop, jumping off his dragon and into the shop without knocking, knowing Kai was most likely expecting someone to come in.

"Hey there," Kai greeted, sticking a long metal thing into a barrel of water, steaming rising quickly, loud sizzling in the air around them. Kai had more long metal poles on one of his tables, each one having some sort of difference engraved on them that Cole didn't care to examine right now, but, even from afar, Kai's work was still beautiful. "Is it that time already?"

Cole cocked a crooked smile at the fire ninja. "Apparently so," Cole went over closer to Kai, who was taking off his blacksmithing wear, a pair of gloves, a dark apron, and a face protection mask. "Ready to leave your things here and get some food?"

Kai chuckled, picking up all the engraved poles and setting them to the side safely, including the one he had witnessed get placed in the barrel. After Kai cleaned up his place in the shop, he thanked the owner and said he'd come back tomorrow, the man just waving him off as he continued to read a magazine.

The two made their way back to their home swiftly, talking about how they enjoyed being able to do their hobbies or favorite activities a lot more, but how much of a hassle it was to handle all that time given to them. As they walked into the hallway, Kai said that he had finished at least three of the poles the earth ninja had seen, telling him that they were going to be put up somewhere on or in their home. Cole found that impressive, Kai had been a terrible blacksmith before, his forges were, as Nya once stated, a wet spaghetti noodle. After regularly practicing in his free time, he rose up to the title of a blacksmith.

The rest of the day was spent with the whole team, Sensi Wu, and Misako after Kai and Cole arrived in the kitchen. All of them chatted together, the table crowded, loud, and noisy every which way. To Cole though it, was just one big family get together at the end of the day, talking their head off while enjoying food. It was comforting, to say the least, Cole was used to large group dinners, his father's job as a famous dancer meant big parties of all types.

Soon as the conversations died down and people were getting full, Zane took the job of picking up the dishes along with Misako, who helped him. People started leaving one by one, saying their goodnights, each one headed off for bed, soon Cole did too. Everything in Cole's life seemed perfect to other people's eyes, as it should have been, nothing but training, drawing, and family times. Sadly, that wasn't at all the case.

Not one bit.

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