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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

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Moe Moe Mallekei Kyun~

In which Malleus and Cater go to a maid café, and shenanigans ensue.

... I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time.

***Warning: mild spoilers for Malleus’s PE Uniform personal story!***

Imagine this...

“Lilia-sama.”

Two bodyguards fell into line, saluting simultaneously to their vice dorm leader.

“We just finished combing through the prime gargoyle locations around campus,” Silver reported. “Unfortunately, there was no sight of Malleus-sama to be found. The accounts of the various students we interviewed also corroborate that the Young Master has not recently been spotted in the area.”

“I see. Thank you, Silver.” Lilia sighed, cupping his cheek in one hand. “Hm, this is a bit odd. Wherever could he have wandered off to this time?”

At that moment, a ping! sounded off. Lilia fished his phone out of his pocket and, with one glance at the screen, his expression softened.

“You don’t suppose some dastardly villain has… kidnapped the Young Master and is holding him for ransom, do you?!” Sebek’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull at the thought. “If that is the case… THEN WE HAVE FAILED AS MALLEUS-SAMA’S KNIGHTS!!”

“Now, now--let’s not jump to conclusions. Even if that were true, I’m certain that Malleus would be able to easily fend off assailants on his own. Perhaps he has simply lost his way, or headed off campus to run an errand.”

“... Without warning us in advance?”

“I would have happily accompanied the Young Master wherever he went--EVEN TO THE ENDS OF TWISTED WONDERLAND ITSELF!!”

“Kufufu. Malleus is still young at heart. Let us allow him this moment of independence, just this once. He will find his way home eventually.”

“Welcome home, my masters!!”

Malleus skidded to a stop in the doorway—for beyond it laid unknown territory. The interior sported cream walls, with fairy lights, streamers, and paper flowers strung up. A number of tables and chairs, populated with people, were set against flowing white curtains.

Young ladies flitted about, balancing trays of food and drinks, cameras, and microphones. Each wore the same outfit, consisting of a frilly headdress, an apron, and a black dress with lace trim and ribbons.

And now, one of those uniformed girls extended a hand to him and a warm, welcoming smile.

Malleus frowned and turned to the orange haired young man beside him. “... Diamond. What is this strange establishment you’ve brought me to?”

“Mm? It’s a maid café,” Cater chirped, glancing up from his phone. “You said you’ve never been before, right?”

“Well, yes… However, when you invited me to join you for an outing, I did not expect this to be our destination.”

“It’ll be fine~ We’re already here, so let’s get seated!” Cater insisted cheerily, ushering the fae through the door.

“Right this way, my masters!” The greeter giggled and led the way, eventually stopping at a vacant table set for two. As the duo slipped into their seats, she handed them menus and moistened towels. “We have a wide selection of special services and delicious dishes for your enjoyment!”

Malleus hesitantly flipped open the (very pink) menu and ran his eyes down the page of available items. Along with the expected offerings of desserts, savory foods, and beverages were odd listings: massage, ear cleaning, karaoke, game, arts and crafts, picture, spoon feeding, live song and dance...

He stared quizzically at Cater, who seemed to be taking everything in stride.

“I’ll take a plate of omurice! How about you, Malleus-kun?”

He stared back at his menu, trying to make rhyme or reason of the unique names. What in the Great Seven was a Pyon ❤ Pyon Sunshine Bar…? Or a Lucky☆Happy☆Cookie? Malleus’s brows furrowed in both concentration and confusion.

“I… I shall have the local specialty, whatever that may be,” the fae prince declared at last.

“Excellent choices! And would you like a bunny, or a kitty?”

“You hand out animals at this eating establishment? Is that not a health code violation?”

“Aaah, Malleus-kun, she doesn’t mean real rabbits and cats. Look--you’ll see when she brings them, okay?” Cater laughed awkwardly. Then, turning to the waitress, he held up his index finger. “One of each, little lady~”

“Of course!” She scribbled down a few words on her heart shaped notepad before prancing off.

“... Diamond. Are you certain this is the fabled maid café of which you spoke of?” Malleus asked, folding his arms. “I find it difficult to believe that every patron here is descended from a high class lineage. Furthermore, the servers are wearing attire entirely unlike that of a traditional household servant.”

Cater blinked once, twice—then chuckled.

“Maid cafés are like normal cafés. Anyone can go to them to play pretend and chill for a while! The difference is that the waitresses are dressed cutely and offer fun services. Singing, dancing, playing games—that kinda thing!”

“I do not understand.” Malleus swept a hand at their surroundings. “The purpose of this establishment is merely for… amusement?”

“Yup! People get tired of the daily grind sometimes, so they go to places like this to see cute stuff and just take a load off.”

“I… I see.” Malleus tucked his thumb and forefinger under his chin. “We do not have anything like your maid cafes in the Valley of Thorns.”

“You don’t? What sort of things do you do back home for fun, then?”

“I was not allowed to venture far from the palace grounds. Most of my time was spent indoors, studying spells or honing my magical abilities.”

Cater inclined his head. “Oooh, right! Because you’re a prince and all, you weren’t able to do much—but hey! Things are different now! You’ve got Cay-kun to show you a good time!”

“Ah, yes. A ‘good time’...” Malleus attempted at a smile, which came out more wary than he had intended.

“Thank you for waiting!” a girlish voice chirped—their waitress had returned, wearing a tray of food in one hand and two headbands in the other. “Here is your omurice and Nyan ✨ Nyan ✨ Kitty-chan Parfait, plus one pair of kitty ears and one pair of bunny ears!”

She handed Cater his dish—a bed of ketchup flavored fried rice, sealed by a wobbling omelet and garnished with a sprig of parsley.

“Mm! Smells delicious. Thanks a bunch~” Cater grinned, winking at his server.

The maid giggled and placed Malleus’s dessert before him, along with the headbands.

“Would you like me to draw or write something special for you on your meal, master?” she asked, gesturing to Cater’s omurice.

“Sure thing! Could you write ‘Mallekei’? Oh, and a couple of hearts would be cute, too!”

“As you wish!”

As the maid set to work, Malleus marveled at the sight of his parfait.

Colorful scoops of ice-cream, granola, and sliced fruits were layered inside of a tall glass cup. A generous crown of whipped cream and a drizzle of strawberry sauce topped it off. Sticking out from the whipped cream were two wafer triangles and dots of chocolate candies, forming a cat-like face.

How adorable.

… But not adorable enough to be spared.

“Thank you for the food.” The fae raised his spoon to demolish the poor parfait kitten—

“Stop, stop, Malleus-kun!!” Cater cried, frantically waving his arms. “N-Not yet!!”

Malleus lowered his spoon with a frown. “Food is meant to be consumed, Diamond. Is there an issue you have with my table etiquette?”

“Well—no, but…” Cater played with a lock of his orange hair and sighed. “There’s certain rituals we need to do first!”

“Rituals? Oh, my apologies. I was not aware. Please proceed with your regularly scheduled… rituals.”

“Ahaha, you’re a quick learner! First thing’s first, let’s put on our headbands!” Cater swept up the cat ears and passed them over. “Here, to match your parfait! I’ll take the rabbit.”

Malleus gingerly nestled the cat ears on his head, copying Cater’s movements. It was a bit tricky maneuvering around his horns, but somehow, he managed.

“Oh!! Those ears suit you so well!” the waitress said, glancing up from decorating the omurice. Carefully placed splotches of ketchup spelled out ‘Mallekei’, hearts and little sparkles littering the space around the boys’ combined names.

“... Do they?” Malleus doubted it.

“They do!!” Cater reassured him with a laugh. “Ne, ne, miss! Can you take our picture so my friend here can have a souvenir to take home with him?”

“Certainly!” She replaced the bottle of ketchup and hurried off, returning shortly after with a polaroid camera. “Are you ready, my masters?”

“Ready, Malleus-kun?”

“Hmph. Of course. I will have you know that my posing abilities have improved considerably since our last encounter. Do not underestimate me.”

“Oh, that’s great! You’ve been practicing! Then… on the count of three, we nyah, okay?”

“... What is ‘nyah’?” Malleus inquired, his confidence suddenly waning.

“Eh?” A blip of surprise crossed Cater’s face. “Like, y’know… nyah!”

The influencer curled both of his hands into balls and made a pawing motion at his friend. “Now you try!”

“Like this?” Malleus mimicked him. He was more stiff—definitely not as practiced—but the general motion was still recognizable.

“Very good, master!!” the waitress gushed, raising the polaroid up. “On three?”

“1, 2, 3… Nyah!”

A flash went off, sending stars into Malleus’s vision. As he rubbed the daze out of his eyes, Cater’s voice called out to him.

“Are you okay there?”

“I am well. There is no need for your concern,” the fae insisted. “This ritual… it is more confounding that I took it to be.”

“Eeeh? It’s not meant to be hard or anything. Just relax, relax!” Cater paused before adding, “It’s part of the ritual’s requirements! You need to be nice and loose for the last step!”

“What is this last step?”

“We need to cast a magic spell to make your food taste extra tasty!” the waitress declared cheerily.

“Hoh?” A smirk found its way onto Malleus’s face. “That can easily be arranged. Allow me to do the honors.”

He put his hand before his parfait, an eerie green glow emulating from his palm. The sinister light engulfed his dish and Cater’s, sending them floating midair. Radioactive ice-cream and omurice hovered above their heads, causing both Cater and their maid to recoil in shock.

Other customers stared at the spectacle from their own tables. One man’s jaw dropped, the forkful of spaghetti bolognese in his mouth clattering onto the floor.

“You, who provides sustenance to the masses, become that which is delici—“

“H-Hold on a sec, Malleus-kun!!” Cater practically leapt over the table to seize his friend’s glowing hand. “Not that kind of spell!!”

Eyes wide with surprise, Malleus allowed his magic to settle down. The parfait and omurice gently floated back onto their table, and the maid sighed with relief.

“Is there a different spell needed for this occasion? I assure you that I am well-versed in practical magic—you need only speak its name, and I can conjure the proper…”

“No, no! It’s—“ Cater casted a look at their server and nervously chuckled. “Ne, Maid-chan~ Think you can give us a demonstration of the right spell?”

“Yes, master!” the girl, ever professional, flashed a perky grin. “Please watch carefully!!”

The maid set down her polaroid on the table. She then arched her fingers into C-like shapes, thumb extended straight. Pushing her hands together, she formed a heart and aimed it in the direction of the boy’s dishes.

“Moe moe kyuuuuuun!”

“What an odd spell. In all my years, I have never heard of such an enchantment…”

“Well, there’s a first for everything, right?” Cater flicked one of his floppy rabbit ears. “Plus, it should be no problem for the great Malleus-sama to pull off this spell, right?”

“This is child’s play,” Malleus’s laugh was like the earth itself rumbling. His lips quirked into a small smile. “You will join me in performing this sacred ritual, will you not, Diamond?”

“Of course~”

“Very well.”

They made hearts and thrust them upon their meals. And together, they uttered those three magic words.

“Moe moe kyuuuuun!!”

“Welcome back, Malleus,” Lilia greeted. The vice dorm leader nonchalantly hung from the ceiling, his raven and magenta bangs suspended midair. “Did you have fun on your outing?”

“Lilia. You knew?” Malleus slowly shut the door behind him, chasing away the cool air of the night. He spoke softly, knowing that sounds carried in the dusty hallways of Diasomnia and could disturb its residents.

“The wonders of modern technology,” Lilia trilled, expertly landing beside his young master. He brandished his phone in a gloved hand, a text message displayed on the screen.

hey hey lilia-chan! gonna steal malmal-kun for the day~ he’ll be back later, but do me a solid and keep it a secret from s&s til then, ‘kay? thnx!! (✿˶˘ ³˘)~♡

“It looks as though I have been exposed.”

“There is no shame in making new friends. In fact, I’m proud of you for expanding your horizons.” Lilia beamed. “Though what a shame it is that I was not present to grab a few pictures. Hopefully Cater fulfilled that task for me.”

The ancient fae tilted forward in his toes and peered up at his prince. “Soooo? Where did you sneak off to?”

“Fufu. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“My. Is that any way to treat the man that kept Silver and Sebek from hunting you down?” Lilia teased, wagging a finger.

“Such loyalty,” Malleus smirked, hands on his hips, “deserves to be rewarded.”

He produced a polaroid photograph from his breast pocket and presented it with a flourish. The image, forever captured in time, was that of Malleus and Cater—the former with cat ears, the latter with bunny ears—with hands balled to resemble paws. Cater cheekily winked, while Malleus looked slightly bewildered.

The edges of the polaroid were dotted with stickers—smiley faces, flowers, and hearts. Marker had been used to scrawl on whiskers and blushes over both boys’ cheeks.

Overall, cutesy—overwhelming so.

But the Malleus and Cater in the picture were happy.

Their eyes shining like jewels.

Nyah-ing their hearts out.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Cater Diamond #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #spoilers

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renova-writes · 3 years

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Coney Island Hotdogs

Requested by: @maximeevansblog

Summary: “The reader is the daughter of bucky barnes, and the have a daddy - daugther Day, but the reader wants to sleep but her dad has other plans , and end of the Day the asks what do you wanna eat Mac donalds and the watch a movie, but the reader falls a sleep trough the movie, and he carries her to bed, but she wakes up and her dad she go back to sleep button, i am carring you to bed, and allot of fluff and cuteness and if its ready you tag me right thanks”

Words: 2,004

Warnings: Just basically a bunch of Fluff. Some mentions of bullying and death, but very light and fun

Other Works: masterlist

"Five more minutes," you whined. The clock on your bedstand read 5:39 am.

"Hey, button," you heard a voice whisper. The dark locks dangling over you told you that it was your father. "Get dressed. I have a surprise for you."

"It's too early."

"I know, but I'll make you a (your favorite caffeinated drink)" Your dad obviously wanted you to get up but was not going to force you. That was one of your favorite things about him. He never forced you to do anything you didn't want to.

"Really" Your sleepy eyes lit up at the mention of caffeine.

"Yes button, really. I promise. Just get yourself ready to go, and it will be waiting for you" he smiled and walked out of your room, "Also, bring a jacket. Just in case."

With that, your dad left. As you paused for a moment in your bedsheets, soaking up the last moments of fluffy warmth before you needed to get up, excitement crawled up your spine. It wasn't often that you and your dad did things, just the two of you. He was always busy with the Avengers, or you two were over with Sam and his family. When you did make time for special days, he usually asked you what you wanted to do beforehand.

His walking into your room at five in the morning, asking you to get up so that you two could have a bonding day, was unusual. He must have something special planned.

You forced yourself to get out of bed. That was going to be the hardest part. Half asleep, you dragged yourself over to the bathroom. You did your business and paused after washing your hands to brush your teeth and your hair. A smile crept across your face in the mirror as you tried to guess what you were going to do.

The zoo? The park? Maybe the museums?

You lived in the Avenger's tower in the heart of New York City, so there were many options. You gave up trying to guess and decided to go with whatever. It was going to be fun no matter what.

It was the beginning of spring, so it was warm during the day but cold in the mornings. You picked out a light floral dress, leggings, and a cardigan so that you could have layers. Some essential jewelry and your boots would also be a part of your outfit.

After putting on your clothes and some basic makeup, you made your way to the main room of your apartment. Just like he had promised, your dad had gotten your beverage from the Starbucks next to the lobby. He had probably gotten it before waking you up as it was sitting in the microwave/fridge.

"Hey button. Nice to see that you finally have awoken from your cavern of blankets," he joked, "You ready. I've got an amazing day planned out. Just the two of us."

"Yep. Where are we going."

"Button, that's a surprise!"

"Tell me!!" you giggled.

"Well, it wouldn't be a surprise if I told you," he smiled. A goofy grin was on his face, with admiration pouring out of his eyes.

"Just a hint…" you begged. "I'll probably forget by the time we get there."

"No. I want it to be a complete surprise," your dad insisted, "that's why, after you drink your drink, I want you to put on a blindfold."

Oh dear, he was very insistent about this whole surprise thing.

"But first, BREAKFAST!!!" he exclaimed as he presented you with your favorite breakfast, waffles, and strawberries. The plate seemed to sparkle with deliciousness as your stomach cried out in hunger.

"Yummy!!!"

"See, I remembered your favorite" he seemed very proud of himself. You had mentioned that you liked waffles when Wanda had made them for a birthday breakfast.

"Dig in! I put some strawberry syrup into the waffles themselves so that we would have extra strawberry flavor."

He handed you a fork and a knife, and you cut into them. The heat fell off of the bite on your forked, and you braced yourself in anticipation. Your father could cook; he and Steve used to make dinners for the team. But that was with Steve, now that he was gone, your dad rarely cooked. It had been hard for him. He was slowly getting over it; you definitely helped. Having somebody to take of, his therapist agreed, was very good for him. But his food was very hit or miss. This morning, however, the waffles were amazing.

The strawberries tasted fresh and had the perfect amount of sweetness. The waffles were eggy, precisely the way you liked them.

"Dad! These are delicious!" you exclaimed.

"I know, right, they're so good," he nodded in agreement, "but can I admit something? I stole the recipe off Auntie Wanda."

It didn't matter where he got the recipe from. They were delicious. It took the two of you a total of 10 minutes to eat the entire plateful.

He pulled a blindfold out of his pocket and put it around your eyes. You had faith that he wouldn't let you bump into anything. You weren't going to have to worry about the crowded city streets. When the strangers passing by got a glimpse of his metal arm, they always made a beeline away from him.

You knew it hurt him. You could see it in his eyes. He was your dad, after all. When you were younger, you couldn't understand why they were afraid, but now that you were older, you knew. It never, even for a second, hurt your relationship with your dad. You loved him. You knew that the real James Barnes was a cinnamon roll. This was a man who wouldn't kill spiders when he found them in the kitchen. This was a man who hung out with the Parker boy and played video games.

Even though the blindfold around your eyes took away your sight, you knew that your dad was checking to see if his gun was where he needed it. After all, he was the Winter Soldier. But that was an everyday thing. When he stopped rustling with his pockets, you felt a hand on your shoulder guiding you out of the room.

------

As soon as you heard the crowd's excitement, you knew where you were. The smell of cotton candy and hot dogs confirmed it.

Your dad had taken you to Coney Island.

You hadn't been there since you were a little kid and couldn't control your excitement. The hand that had been guiding you on your shoulder disappeared and removed the blindfold.

After taking a moment to adjust to the light, your eyes took in the flashing lights and kids running around. The roller coasters and carnival games all around you captivated your attention and caused a smile to form on your face.

"How's this for a surprise Button?"

"Dad, this is amazing! Thank you!!!"

"What ride do you want to go on first?"

The morning flew by in a blur. You and your dad had decided to go on every single ride you could. He had enjoyed the bumper cars and had won you a stuffed panda bear on one of the shooting games. You got the famous coney island hot dogs for lunch and ate on a bench on the beach. The entire morning, there was one thing that you really wanted to do… Ride the Cyclone.

"Hey, dad….."

"Yes Button"

"Can we ride the Cyclone"

"Um. of course. We have to. What's the point of coming here if we don't."

You threw away your trash and got in line. A man with purple hair and tattoos strapped the two of you in and took your picture.

"Alrighty ladies and gents," the loudspeaker in the car said. "Are you ready for the Cyclone"

Everyone on the train whooped and hollered in excitement, and the car lurched forward. Slowly you crept up the first hill and felt the adrenaline follow. At the top, you saw the people on the benches below. You couldn't help but compare them to little dolls from your height.

With that, the car reached the top of the hill and falls.

"Whoa, Button, I think I'm going to be sick," Buck said once you were off. He was looking somewhat green and queasy.

It was your turn to guide him... to a trash can. It turned out he wasn't going to throw up, which you were grateful for, but the Cyclone's toll had been taken. He rested his body on a bench and called it quits.

"What time is it," he asked. You checked your watch. It was two in the afternoon. "How about we do something a little, slower."

"Sure," you agreed. You were in Brooklyn, his home borough, and he decided to take you on a tour of where he grew up.

"And this is the alleyway where your Uncle Steve decided to get in all those fights," he said you passed by. "One time, after I saved his tiny ass, he told me that he thought he had pulled a muscle, and I was all like, 'Steve, you can't pull what you don't have."

You giggled at the thought of skinny Steve. Continuing on your tour, you saw his old apartment and walked through the one he shared with Steve. It had been turned into a museum, and you laughed together for an hour as he pointed out every single detail that had been changed.

"There was no way that we could have two beds! There was no heater, so we shared one! Why would they change that! It wasn't like we had anything going on between us!" he argued. You laughed as the tour guide still could not recognize one of the old occupants of the apartment.

Once your dad seemed satisfied with his tour, the two of you walked down to the nearest subway stop. In the underground station, you passed those golden arches.

"Dad, can we get McDonald's," you asked.

"Are you sure, Button, we can get much better food back a the tower"

"Yeah, we haven't had it in forever, and I need to feed my inner Chicken nugget," you joked.

He must have been in an excellent mood because he gave in to the lure of the golden arches. He also seemed like he really wanted a burger because he got his usual order, Two big macs, a large fry, and an M&M McFlurry. The super-soldier serum had granted him the ability and need to eat loads of food. You also figured that he wanted a break from Pepper's food because she had decided that the entire team needed to become more healthy conscience. It wasn't that anyone hated her food; it was just somewhat bland. And besides, who wants couscous when you can have Micky D's.

After Bucky had wolfed down his food, and you had savored each bite of Chicken Nugget, you got on the train back home. You could feel yourself grow tired as your body finally rested from an exciting and full day. Your head drooped down and rested on your father's shoulder.

"Hey, button, let's watch a movie in the tower."

He picked out a classic, The Wizard of Oz, and made popcorn. You barely made it to the tornado before your eyes finally gave up. You were so tired that you didn't feel your dad pick you up and start carrying you to your bed.

Your eyes fluttered open as you heard 'If only I had a heart' playing from the TV.

"Hey, Button," your dad's voice whispered, "You fell asleep. I didn't want you to wake up on the sofa, so I'm taking you to your bed."

He laid you down and pulled up the blankets. With a kiss on your forehead, turned to leave.

"Dad, I love you," you called out.

"I love you too, Button" On that note, he turned out your light and closed your door

#bucky x y/n #bucky x daughter!reader #bucky fluff #domestic bucky #fic request #steve x you #sam x you #marvel #avengers #avengers x young reader

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lihikainanea · 3 years

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What are Tiger and Bill’s plans for Midsommer today ? I imagine they would be with the whole skarsgard fam on the glorious day. Also love it when you write stuff with the whole fam. I’d get small af if I was around not just Bill but all of them , obviously since they’re all giants , but also because I feel like they’d all have some protective nature over Tiger. Just since she’s the smallest out of all of them haha

Not gonna lie sweet nani, Misommar yesterday really bummed me out. I was so emotional all day, because this is the second year in a row that I'm missing it. And last year, when I spoke to my friends, we were all just like "ha well at least next year is a guarantee!" and then like...here we are.

My friends all went out to Väddö and rented these small cottages side by side, right on the sea. They sent me pictures all day, they FaceTimed me--and man, they did it so that I'd feel included, but it almost made it worse. It tore my heart in two, and just gave me serious FOMO. Midsommar in Sweden is by far my most favourite holiday and missing it again this year just kind of pushed me into the dark depths of why bother and nothing is worth it.

I think it's also exacerbated by the fact that I'm still a little mad at Sweden. I live in one of the areas that underwent the strictest lockdown and for the longest time. I didn't see my parents or my sister in person for about 9 months, and even then, after 9 months WE got fed up and nothing made sense so we started gathering illegally, for the sake of our mental sanity. Everything was closed. We weren't allowed to do anything. Going through that while seeing Sweden basically carry on life as usual is still the cause of a lot of my ire.

Wow, this got dark.

ANYWAY.

I want to say that Midsommar for tiger and Bill isn't even in the archipelago--no no, the whole family has a better idea. They rent a whole bunch of chalets way the fuck in Northern Sweden, where the night stays REAL bright. Maybe in Suorva or something.

And it's just so swedish. Small red cottages, evergreens, deep blue lakes. The cottages are minimalist and just so fucking beautiful, with white walls and white furniture. The bed creaks a little, but it's also covered in warm blankets and furs for the cool nights, and the fresh air knocks both of them out each night anyway.

And then Midsommar comes and it's just...god, it's magical. All of them seem very intent on making sure that tiger has a perfectly Swedish Midsommar, but also just a perfect Midsommar. She's taken out into the fields to pluck flowers. She's shown how to make a flower crown, and when she excitedly shows Bill he just smiles so big at her, then places it gently on her head for her. She wears a pretty dress with flowers on it, too. A huge table is set in the garden while the brothers put up the Maypole, and tiger admires how well it all comes together--floral centrepieces, chairs lined up perfectly, big baskets of fruits, the most delicious looking strawberry cream cakes that tiger has ever seen. One brother is suspiciously missing from helping to put the Maypole up and when tiger goes looking for some table linens she spots Gustaf in the back of the pantry, hidden from view, eating the pickled herring right from the jar. He gives her a mischievous smirk, waves her over, fixes her a crisp bread just right.

There's a slight uproar when the family notices that suddenly they are 3 jars short of pickled herring. Gustaf just winks at tiger.

There's akvavit--too much of it. Tiger shyly asks one of the smaller kiddie cousins to teach her the frog dance around the Maypole, and Bill is just delighted when he sees her do it. Midsommar fort he Skarsgards is not about huge, loud parties--it's about family, good food, endless food, and staying up all night to relish in the beauty of the motherland. When dusk takes over for a brief while the chairs are set up on the dock, surrounding a bonfire. More food is brought out, and tiger thinks she may just explode--until Bill hands her a tiny glass, pours a splash of akvavit into it.

"Just sip it," he says, "Helps with the digestion."

She quirks a brow as he pours some for himself, but he shoots his back.

"Just sip it?" she says.

"Swedes don't sip."

And it's just magical in every way. They only get back to their small cottage around 7AM, and they both just fall into bed. Bill wraps them up tight in blankets, his big hand rubbing her stomach, and it's the best sleep tiger has had in years--until she’s jolted awake when Bill jumps up.

“I forgot,” he mumbles, stumbling out of bed and getting her flower crown. He undoes a few flowers.

“Hey--” she objects sleepily--”I want to keep that.”

“Seven flowers,” he says, carefully picking out 7 different kinds from the crown and handing her the small bouquet, “You have to sleep with seven flowers under your pillow, and you’ll dream about your soulmate.”

“Don’t have to pal,” she says like the big sap she is, “But if you insist.”

They wake up hours later and both are a little hungover (from food AND liquor), both have that residual sleepy fog that is just so lovely after a great night. They're also the first ones up even though it's well into the afternoon--so Bill gets the fire going again, pulls some chairs around it. He wraps tiger up in another blanket and sits her right on his lap, hands her some coffee--and they just stay like that, drifting in and out of sleep, until slowly but surely the chairs fill up and it's somehow time to eat again.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #BFF!Bill

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artemis-verse · 4 years

Text

unexpected visitor

summary: You and Yamaguchi planned a surprise for Tsukishima on his birthday. note: time skip! tsukki and yams. this is a fic for the hc i did on long-distance relationship with tsukishima. fem! reader, she/her pronouns.

word count: 1,149 words warnings: none genre: fluff arthie’s note: i’m soo sorry for posting this late (╥﹏╥). i hope you can still enjoy this fic even tho tsukki’s birthday had passed.. nevertheless, i wrote this when i was stressed out haha so i hope it turns out good and that all of you like it too ^^ i got no time to edit a picture of tsukki so i’ll just put a gif of him instead ~ anyways enjoy!! (ﾉ´ з `)ノ ↳ back to main masterlist »»————-　♡　————-«« Yamaguchi hastily searched for the familiar face that he had become acquainted with. The crowds of people coming out of the gate, rushing towards their loved ones with joyful expressions. Throughly scanning the sea of people, he spotted the person he recognized and immediately trotted to her. Warm arms engulfed around his body, all of his worries diminished away as soon as he laid his eyes on her. Pulling apart from their clutch, he smiled at her tenderly. “Welcome, Y/n. Tsukki will be over the moon once he meets you.” She grinned, “I’m glad that I’m finally here.”

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆ He rolled his eyes in frustration, gazing at the amount of workload he has to complete. It’s exhausting, he’s drained and tired. All he wants to do is go home yet he’s stuck in the office, doing paperworks. Not to mention, he came here straight after volleyball practice when he got the notification from his manager, demanding him to come here urgently. “Oh! You’ve already done a lot! Nice work, Tsukishima-kun.” His co-worker praised, patting his shoulder. Mumbling a thanks, he quickly got back to work, wanting to finish his tasks so that he could get back home and rest. Turns out; work ended on 6PM instead, with his manager dumping more work onto him, blabbering about how tidy and organized the paperworks are when Tsukishima’s the one to do it. Internally cursing at his manager, he packed his things, ready to leave. The skies were fading into dusk as people on their work uniforms scurry onto the train, worried that they’ll miss it. He got inside of the packed train, hugging his bag closely to his chest. Feeling annoyed, he turned up the volume of the song higher to shun out the voices of the busy world. Finally arriving at his stop, he found Yamaguchi waving at him enthusiastically. Tsukishima sauntered over to him, “What are you doing here?” Smiling sheepishly, “I just wanted to pick you up from work!” The glint in his eyes indicates that he’s hiding something from Tsukishima which in turn makes the taller man, stare at him apprehensively. “Okay, thanks.” Was all that Tsukishima said as Yamaguchi lead the way to his car. He kept on rambling about his day while Tsukishima hummed, nodding his head once in awhile to show that he’s paying attention even though weariness clouds his mind. Once in the car, Tsukishima fell asleep, dozing off to the soft melody that came out from the radio. Yamaguchi eyed his friend, feeling quite bummed at the state of Tsukishima. Nevertheless, he mustn’t forget that tomorrow is a special day and someone very dear to Tsukishima is here to cheer him up. 20 minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant that Yamaguchi had made a reservation for the celebration. He shook Tsukishima lightly who fluttered his eyes open sleepily. Coming out of his daze, he glanced at the building around him. “Where are we?” “We’re here to eat, of course! My treat since you’ve had a long day today.” Yamaguchi smiled as Tsukishima thanked him, wiping his glasses away from the fog that misted due to the air conditioning. Entering the restaurant, they made sat down on the regular booth that they’ve always occupied whenever they dine out here. “Did you forgot...?” Was what Yamaguchi asked after they ordered their food. “Forgot what?” He replied, raising a brow. Tiredness still evident in his system as Yamaguchi sighed. “It’s your birthday, Tsukki!” Realization hits him, “Oh.” His head bowed down in embarrassment upon not remembering his own birthday. Yamaguchi chuckled, “That’s okay. You’ve had a tiring day today so I don’t blame you for forgetting it.” Clearing his throat, he gazed around his surroundings, eyes widening when he noticed a familiar figure 3 seats away from them. Shaking his head in denial, he thought to himself. Stop thinking it’s her, you idiot. She’s miles away from you. Yamaguchi saw the gleam in Tsukishima’s stare when he thought it was her— unaware of the person he longed to see is actually hiding in this restaurant. The food arrived and they quickly stuff their mouth, hunger overtaking the tiredness. Relishing on the delicious dishes, they managed to finish all of their meals clean. “Let’s go. I’m stuffed and I’m ready to crash into bed.” Tsukishima said, patting his stomach. Yamaguchi gave him a nervous smile, “Um.. yeah.” That made Tsukishima skeptical of what was going on but he decided to not question it any further due to exhaustion. It wasn’t until she appeared, holding a strawberry shortcake and smiling at him, making his heart flutter. “Happy birthday, Kei.” Scrambling out of his seat, he embraced her after placing the cake down. Tears ran down his face although he wasn’t sure if it’s tears of exasperation or exhilaration. “I’m so happy to finally see you, Kei.” She confessed, making him cried even harder. It was rare of Tsukishima to display his emotions out especially in public however after years of longing to meet the person he loves— he knew it was bound to come out. Yamaguchi grinned happily at the sight of his friends, applauding himself internally on making this surprise successful. He wanted more than anything to see Tsukishima happy. ⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆ After numerous begging from Yamaguchi’s part (Tsukishima refuses to beg so he made Yamaguchi do it instead), she’ll spend the night at his house; that will eventually led to her staying for a longer period than promised. Tsukishima laid his head next to her’s, caressing her hand softly. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He admitted, feeling as if this is a dream and if he’ll blink, she would disappear. “I can’t believe it either, honestly.” She squeezed his hand. “Remember when we used to make promises to see each other even though we live in different countries?” A wide smile spreads across his face as the memory plays inside his head. “Yeah. What’s even more crazy was the fact that we met on Twitter.” “And now, we’re here.” She beamed at him, staring into his eyes, full of affection and adoration sheen forward. Mimicking her happiness, he stroke her face, feeling his heart swell at the person in front of him. Words could not even describe how ecstatic he is upon finally meeting the love of his life. He still couldn’t believe that she’s really here— warm and loving and real. Oh how, he dreamt of this happen millions of times already. Never would’ve he imagined that he would fall in love with someone; especially being in a long-distance relationship. He pulls her in, kissing her tenderly and soft. Pouring all of his love onto her, never wanting to let go of the person he cherished so much for. This was truly the best birthday he had ever had in his life; he made sure to thank Yamaguchi for making this happen too.

#tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima rei x reader #tsukishima fic #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu!! x you #haikyuu!! x reader #hq tsukishima #hq x you #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! imagines

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crystalessenceswrites · 3 years

Note

Nedding requests for Marcus Pike? I gottcha! I was reading your prompt list and this one screams Marcus: 31. “Wait wait wait wait… You don’t like pancakes? Okay, that’s it. We’re done.” I imagine Marcus saying that and then taking reader on dates on the best pacakes places on DC because she just didn’t have one that was good enough, and they try it all. I love this man.

This prompt is absolutely made for Marcus. I hope I did it justice because I too am absolutely in love with this man. Thanks so much for sending this in!

Pancakes--Marcus Pike x gn!reader

“Staring at it isn’t going to make a lead magically appear, ya’ know.”

Marcus jumps in his seat, eyes darting up to your figure in the doorway. “Well apparently it makes you magically appear.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean against the corner of his desk. “Ha ha, real comedian.”

“What can I say? I’m a man of many talents,” he shrugs, leaning back into his plush office chair.

“Stick to your day job.”

“Hey! I’m trying to but I’ve got this distraction that won’t go away,” he pouts in mock offense, arms crossed. The messy scruff makes it difficult for you to take him seriously.

“I’m trying to distract you because you’ve been holed up in here for hours, Marcus. Everyone else has gone home.” You’d been on your way out the door too when you’d noticed his office light was still on. Frustrating cases like these gave Marcus tunnel vision. He cannot see or think of anything but the case, often forgetting to take care of himself in the process. “You need to rest too. You’re no good to the team if you’re dead.”

“Lil’ missed sleep never killed anyone.”

“I’m sure there’s some factoid somewhere that would prove you wrong, but that’s not my point, Marcus! When’s the last time you ate?”

Your boss just sits and stares up at you blankly.

“See, you can’t even remember!”

“Well, if you’re still here that means you haven’t eaten either,” he counters. How this child-like man got put in charge of an entire division is beyond you.

“I had some chips from the vending machines…” Not the best meal you’ve consumed but it would get you by until you got home.

“Then why are you lecturing me?”

“Marcus!”

He holds his hands up in surrender, “’m sorry. I’ll stop.”

You silently give a cheer for the little successes. Maybe one day he would stop arguing with you over his wellbeing.

“But seriously, you need to eat too.” Marcus stands and beings collecting his things, “I know a great diner about fifteen minutes from here. They have the best pancakes, you’ll love it.”

There was the Marcus you had been looking for, the sweet, charismatic man you knew and loved. “Sounds good to me.” You follow him out to the elevators with a grin, “though, do you have any other recommendations besides pancakes?”

Stepping into the elevator, he looks at you with narrowed eyes, “why?”

Now this was dicey territory, Marcus’s love of all things breakfast was common knowledge around the office, your distaste was not. No, distaste was too strong a word, you just did not enjoy it like most everyone else.

“I’m just not feeling pancakes tonight.” You’re so unconvincing you don’t believe yourself.

“Wait wait wait…” Marcus goes wide eyed, “you don’t like pancakes? Okay that’s it. We’re done.” The elevator doors slide open with perfect timing, Marcus struts away with purpose, leaving you in the dust. Your heart drops, you were not expecting that strong of a reaction. It would seem you were headed home for the night after all. Deflated, you hike up your bag and head for the exit.

“How can you not like pancakes?”

This time you jump at Marcus’s sudden reappearance. “Christ Marcus! Don’t do that.” Not wise to startle an FBI agent with a gun. “And where did you come from?”

He waves off your question, “explain it to me, (Y/N). How can there be anything to dislike about pancakes?”

You sigh as Marcus starts to lead you towards his car. No for your now.

“It’s not that I don’t like pancakes… I’ve just never had a good pancake, so I tend to avoid them…”

You swear Marcus looks at you with pity, “never?”

“Never.”

“How?” It’s like you can see the gears turning in his head, trying to wrap his mind around it.

“My parents were not blessed with any sort of cooking skills,” which to their credit they took in stride and found other ways to put dinner on the table for you all, “but for whatever odd reason they insisted on trying to learn to cook breakfast. Every single pancake they tried to make had the consistency of a frisbee… kinda ruined them from then on.”

“That- yeah that would do it.” Marcus mutters.

“I get them a new cookbook every year for Christmas. They sit on the coffee table in the living room, never touched.”

Marcus snorts, “they’re that bad?”

“Yep.”

For a moment he looks thoughtful, hands stuffed in his pockets. You can see the wheel turning again. He’s planning something. You’re not sure if you should be worried or not.

“There are five places in the city that have killer pancakes. We go get one pancake at each place for you to try. If you try all five and still don’t like pancakes, then there is no hope in fixing your troubled past. I won’t bother you about it again.”

“But?”

“But what?”

“It sounded like you were making a bet. What’s the flip side?”

Marcus grins, “there is no flip side. If you like the pancakes, then we both get to enjoy five to-die-for pancakes together.”

You cannot argue with that logic. Or spending more time with Marcus. “I like the sound of that.”

“Great!”

The first place is a quaint hole-in-the-wall café that’s open late, catering to college students and the night shift. Marcus orders plain pancakes and two cups of coffee for you both. He doesn’t even have to ask for your order, already having your coffee preferences memorized. You’ve never understood how he did that. You can barely remember your own order some mornings.

When the waitress brings out the food you already know Marcus has converted you. They look and smell delicious, what pancakes should actually look like, not hockey pucks. You’re tempted to ask to just stay at the café, no need to go to four other restaurants, but Marcus stops you- “no comments, no reviews. I want to know nothing ‘till we have hit all five places.”

Your empty plate should be indication enough of your thoughts of the food.

The second stop is a food truck. A whole food truck dedicated to serving breakfast late at night. You’re surprised Marcus hasn’t given them all his money yet. They serve pancakes rolled up like a cone, filled with fruit, whipped cream and syrup, nearly like a crepe. Marcus fervently assures you it’s still a pancake. You split a strawberry and banana one with him. He teases you when you get whipped cream on your nose.

The next two places are truck stop diners. Marcus gets you blueberry pancakes and apple cinnamon pancakes. You have to restrain yourself from scarfing them down. Too busy enjoying the food you don’t catch Marcus watching you with a smile plastered on his face.

You find yourself dreading the last stop, not wanting the night to be over but its hard not to be excited when Marcus pulls into the parking lot. Its an adorable retro 50s themed 24-hour diner. The waitress calls you both hun and gives you a booth in the back corner. Marcus orders chocolate chip pancakes to wrap it all up and your mouth is watering by the time the sweet waitress returns with your food. They are truly decadent, topped in whipped cream, strawberries and chocolate sauce. You cannot decide if it counts as dessert for breakfast or breakfast for dessert. Either way, they taste even better than they look. Marcus had by far saved the best for last.

“So, what’s the verdict?” His eyes twinkle as he leans in. The grin on his face reminds you of the cat that got the canary.

Holding your hands up in defeat, you sigh, “alright, you’ve converted me. Those were all absolutely amazing pancakes.”

You didn’t think his smile could get any bigger. “That is what I like to hear.”

“I still won’t touch my parents pancakes but I will happily partake next time we go out.”

Marcus nods, reaching across the table he takes your hand in his, rubbing soft circles over your knuckles. “And this all was okay? You had a good night?”

For an impromptu tour of the towns best late-night spots it had been amazing.

This time you’re smiling from ear to ear, “I had the best time, Marcus.”

“So, if I were to ask to do this again sometime?”

“I would happily say yes, especially if there are more pancakes involved.”

#lovely request #Marcus Pike x Reader #absolute fluff #the mentalist

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whateveriwant · 4 years

Text

Just a Glance

Summary: Your anxiety’s been getting the best of you lately, feeling as if you’re being watched. Is your mind playing tricks on you, or will your fears be realized?

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: ~4.5k

Warnings: stalking, paranoia, implied NON-CON (no descriptions)

A/N: Hello! So, this is the follow-up to “Just a Taste”, but told from the reader’s perspective this time. While it’s not imperative you read that story first (or at all, really), I highly suggest you do so. As always: heed the warnings! And as a general disclaimer: I DO NOT condone the actions depicted below. To any and everyone who reads this, I hope you enjoy! Gif found here.

It’s Saturday morning – time to do your weekly grocery shopping. As always, the first stop is at the local farmer’s market. You like coming here not only for the fresh produce, but also to chat with the vendors you’ve become friendly with. You could spend all day talking with them – almost have once or twice – but you have other places you still need to hit today.

It doesn’t hurt to note that making good with the vendors may have some monetary benefits for you, but that’s just an added bonus – the cherry on top. Talking animatedly as the vendors package your slightly reduced-price items, you accidentally whack a few unsuspecting customers while gesturing wildly. You cringe and apologize profusely for your carelessness. Despite being assaulted, the patrons accept your apologies and wish you a good day – letting you off scot-free.

Next stop on your shopping trip is the supermarket. You buy the bulk of your items here: frozen goods, dairy products, various non-perishables. This store has almost everything you need, apart from a few essentials – some absolute necessities: your favorite madeleines, strawberry sorbet, and chocolate-covered pretzels amongst other things; these you can only get from one particular store. But, thankfully, it’s on the way home – your perishables won’t spoil while you run in and grab your few items.

You drive to the store, humming along to your playlist coming through the car’s speakers. When you arrive at the shop, it’s as bustling as ever. Many people must have similar mindsets to you: thinking this shop offers some of the most delicious treats in town. You walk through the familiar aisles knowing exactly where your favorite snacks are housed. You find the pretzels and madeleines easily enough, but can’t find the sorbet. It’s always on the same shelf in the same freezer, but not today.

You start strolling past the freezers, looking through each one – desperately hoping the sorbet’s just been moved and not sold out. Or worse, discontinued. As you search, you pay no mind to the other shoppers around you – your brain totally focused on your mission. Out of nowhere, you walk face-first into what seems to be a steel wall – almost falling on your ass and dropping your basket.

Upon steadying yourself, you realize you didn’t walk into a wall but, rather, a man. A very handsome man, at that. Damn, how did you miss that? Strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, built like a tank – he could be very intimidating if he wanted to be.

You apologize for bumping into him, explaining that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. He brushes off your apology – all but warning you to watch yourself next time – before he continues past you. He wasn’t as friendly as the people from the farmer’s market, you remark. But it was your fault anyway, so you can’t really blame him for being terse with you.

You continue down the aisle until – hallelujah – you spot your prize. It seems they’d simply moved the sorbet to a different freezer. You grab it from the top shelf, dispense it in your basket, and finish shopping – easily finding the rest of your goodies. After purchasing and loading the items into your car, you drive home – absentmindedly singing to your music.

~~~~~

The following week passes by as usual. On Sunday morning, you meet with your friends for brunch. While Katherine had originally suggested checking out the new omelet place in town, you sided with Layla on wanting to go to your regular pancake house. Thus, you three catch up over fluffy, syrup-y flapjacks – discussing how your respective weeks went.

Nothing incredibly remarkable happened to any of you. Katherine mentions how her boss is hounding her lately, making an ugly face to mock him. Her expression makes you laugh, choking on a bite of pancake. Layla had a saucy date night with her boyfriend on Friday. Her descriptions cause you to pause mid-chew, imagining the position she's graphically detailing.

Your most exciting contribution to the conversation is the mini heart attack you had at the store yesterday. Your friends understand your reaction; having had a taste of your favorite sorbet before, they know why you went feral when searching for it. After eating, splitting the bill, and promising "same time next week", you all head in your separate directions.

Following Sunday brunch, you go to the bookstore – seeing if they’ve gotten any new titles in since last week. Browsing the shelves, you spot a new mystery novel that piques your interest. You buy the book, planning to read it during your lunch breaks and after work.

The remainder of your week follows in monotony. Work Monday through Friday, Netflix and novels during free time, occasional morning runs to burn off the calories from your insatiable sweet-tooth – your routine is well-ingrained into your system. On only one occasion did you forget to bring your new book to work – instead, bringing the one you finished the previous week. It’s not the first time this has happened. You can be forgetful when deviating from your routine.

Come Saturday, it's time to go grocery shopping again. As usual, the first stop is the farmer’s market, second is the supermarket, and third is your favorite store. Luckily, you haven’t run out of your pint of sorbet from last week. Thus, you don’t bother traipsing the freezer section. You did, however, gobble through the madeleines and pretzels – forcing you to replenish your stock.

Wading through the busy aisles, you zero in on your target: pretzels – top shelf, right-hand side. The aisle is crowded, making you have to squeeze past a few shoppers in order to get to your prize. As you reach up to grab the bag, you feel someone brush up against you – likely trying to squeeze behind just as you had done moments ago.

The scent of cedarwood and mint trails after the person, overpowering your sense of smell. That guy wears too much cologne, you chide. You turn your head to look at him, seeing his jacket-clad broad shoulders and blonde hair peeking from under his baseball cap. He must be in a hurry since he swiftly departs the aisle. But you’ve been in his place before: running into the store for only one or two items. In those instances, you didn’t bother grabbing a basket – just as he hadn’t today.

You purchase your few items, load your car, and drive out of the parking lot. Glancing in your rearview mirror, you notice a couple of cars also leaving the grocery store and heading in the same direction as you. You blast your playlist as you drive, impatiently waiting until you can get home and dig into your snacks.

~~~~~

The next few weeks pass more or less the same. Sunday mornings are spent brunching with your friends. You eventually cave and agree to try out the omelet place Katherine suggested; but, upon finding the meal lackluster, you all decide to stick with your usual restaurants next time.

You finish the novel you've been reading. The book was so intriguing that you decide to check out more of the author's work, buying another title from the bookstore. This one is similarly a mystery novel, but it's supposedly more chilling – has much more suspense that builds the feeling of dread in the audience.

You go on morning runs after you have one too many scoops of sorbet the prior night. Running your usual route, you pass by an unfamiliar car parked outside your neighbor's house. You didn't realize Mr. Nelson's son was in town again, assuming that's who the vehicle belongs to. You've never met the man before, but he must be kind-hearted seeing as he's willing to visit and care for his elderly father. Maybe you’ll get a chance to meet him soon.

The days come and go. Working through the week, shopping on the weekend, reading in your free time – nothing is intrinsically different. And yet, something feels off. You can’t explain it. You just have a feeling – a sixth sense, almost. And the sensation only grows as the weeks progress.

At times, you feel as if someone is watching you – boring holes into you. No matter where you are – home, work, shopping – you feel like there’s a set of eyes on you, observing you closely. Furthermore, sometimes you swear you can see a shadow lingering in the corner of your eye. But when you turn to look directly at it, it’s disappeared – vanished in an instant.

Your friends and coworkers notice you getting lost in your thoughts, having to snap you from your daze. When you explain the sensation you’re experiencing, they brush you off – none of them finding any evidence to support your claims. You also don’t have any tangible proof for your assertions, just that feeling in your gut.

You decide to chalk it all up to the novel you’re reading. Must be the book’s foreboding feeling carrying over into real life, you rationalize. Resolving to ignore the pestering thoughts popping up in the back of your mind, you try to continue about your days as normal.

~~~~~

It’s Monday morning – time to go to work. On the drive there, you stop to get your coffee – turning down your music so you don’t have to scream your order through the drive-through. Once you reach the office, you make busy at your desk: going through your emails, checking your calendar; all the usual routine.

A couple of hours into your work, you have that sensation you’ve been feeling the last few weeks. You’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring it lately, but you occasionally happen a glance just to humor yourself. When you turn to look towards the shadow – expecting to see nothing as usual – you gasp.

A burly man stands outside your office window, inches away from the glass. His face is partially obscured by his aviators and baseball cap. Though you can’t see his eyes, you know his gaze is directed at you. You stare back at him, a look of confusion crossing your face. He curls one corner of his lip up before walking away – out of your line of sight.

Swiveling your chair to face your coworker, you ask her if she saw that man outside the window. She doesn’t know what you’re referring to, being too wrapped up in her work to notice anything else. Despite her lack of confirmation, you know you’re not going crazy; there was most definitely a man out there watching you. An uneasy feeling washes over you. Maybe those pestering thoughts aren’t so unfounded, you worry.

Throughout the rest of your day, you continue looking towards the windows – expecting him to show up again. He doesn’t return that day. However, the following morning, you see him again – standing outside your office wearing his hat and sunglasses like last time. Once he catches your eye, he smirks, before turning to walk away. This routine continues through the rest of your work week, making you more anxious as each day passes.

Come Saturday, you desperately need to go shopping – having stress-eaten all of your snacks throughout the week. Your anxiety not only affected your appetite, but also your sleep. Over the last couple of days, you’ve come home from work to find your front door unlocked – it apparently having slipped your tired brain in the morning. You double-check that you’ve locked the door before going shopping.

At the farmer’s market, you happily chat with the vendors – feeling much less perturbed than you have all week. That is, until something – or rather, someone – catches your eye across the way. It’s that man again. He’s here, at the farmer’s market, watching you.

Your voice catches mid-sentence as your breath is stolen from you. You stand stock-still, unable to remove your wide eyes from him. The vendor notices your change in demeanor and waves a hand in front of your face, trying to regain your attention. The distraction pulls your gaze from the man in order to pay for your produce. When you look back across the way, he’s gone – leaving no trace that he was ever there to begin with.

But you know better – know your eyes weren’t deceiving you. That was the same man that’s been at your office all week. The same man that’s been watching you all week. And now, he’s seemingly followed you here.

Panic starts to rise as you walk to your car, contemplating just cutting your shopping trip short and going home. But you can’t do that; you need to buy groceries and this is the only day you can do so. You decide to continue with your normal shopping routine and just be quick about it – no dawdling.

You play your music at a low volume as you drive to your next destination. Doing a speed-run through the supermarket, you practically rip the items off of the shelves in your haste. Every now and then, you peek around the corners of the aisles – expecting to see him standing at the end. You never do, and that makes you release a sharp exhale each time your fears are rejected.

Your drive to your third shopping location is less tense, humming slightly to your playlist. At the store, you still chance a look down the aisles just in case, but you never find him waiting there. Unfortunately, you also don’t find any of your normal goodies – the madeleines, sorbet, and pretzels all gone.

You wander the aisles for what feels like hours, hoping to find the items stocked elsewhere. Upon realizing they are indeed sold out, you become crestfallen. It’s already too late into the day to hit up another store and your frozen goods are likely starting to defrost in your car. Thus, you decide to find some replacement snacks to tide you over until next week – just until you can return and hopefully repurchase your normal treats.

The drive home is worry-free as you sing loudly to your music. You continue humming the tune as you collect your groceries from your car, making your way to the front door. When you go to open it, you find it’s already unlocked. Strange. You swear you locked up this morning.

You step through the threshold, closing the door behind you. As you walk towards your kitchen, you smell something in the air – almost an earthy-toothpaste kind of scent. Strange. The smell differs greatly from the normal lavender air freshener you use. Perhaps, not only did you leave the door unlocked, but maybe you also left a window open and the scent is wafting in that way.

You unload your groceries, putting everything on their appropriate shelves and cabinets. When you open the freezer to dispense your frozen goods, you halt your movements. Sitting on the shelf is a pint of your favorite strawberry sorbet. Strange. You swear you finished off the carton last night. Regardless, you celebrate the revelation – knowing what you’re going to snack on tonight. You finish putting away the groceries before going to spend the rest of your day reading.

Later that night when you’re getting ready for dessert, you reach into the freezer for the sorbet. As you grab it, you notice the weight of it – seemingly a full pint rather than an almost finished one. You look the container over, seeing for the first time a small note taped to it. You definitely didn’t leave that there; you’d have no reason to leave yourself notes on a pint of sorbet. You read the few words of the unfamiliar, looped handwriting: “I hope you taste just as sweet”.

You gasp, dropping the carton onto the counter. It all makes sense now: the unlocked door, the lingering scent, the note on the carton – someone's been in your home, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know who the intruder is.

You grab your phone, frantically dialing the police and explaining the situation. You stay on the line as they send a couple of officers to your home. They search every inch of the house, finding no signs of forced entry and no other evidence someone has been there. With nothing else to offer you, they suggest investing in new locks before leaving you to stew in your anxiety. You sleep uneasily that night.

The next morning, you’re hesitant to leave your house – not yet having told your friends about your discovery last night. However, you figure telling them in-person over brunch is as good an opportunity as ever. Reluctantly, you make your way out the door – triple-checking that you’ve locked it. You drive to the restaurant with your music playing low, frequently checking your rearview mirror.

Upon greeting your friends, they can immediately tell something is off with you – your usual cheery demeanor completely absent. Attempting to keep your composure so as not to work yourself up more, you carefully explain everything that’s led up to today. Remarkably, you don’t break down in tears as you detail your experiences from the past week.

However, your friends fly off the handle at your confession – concern flooding their every feature. Layla offers to help you book an appointment with a home security company – her boyfriend having previously worked there. Katherine advises you on ways to get your stalker off of your trail: changing up your routine, taking complex routes to your destinations, and always staying vigilant. You thank them for their help and take their words to heart.

Brunch passes in uncomfortable silence – at least, from your end. Your friends try to pick up your mood – try dragging you out of your swirling thoughts – but to no avail. You pick at your food, your appetite not having fully returned since last night. Most of the conversation goes in one ear and out the other, your attention too focused on the bodies passing by the restaurant’s windows. As you take your leave after the meal, your friends each give you a firm hug – telling you to call them if you need anything or if anything else happens.

You decide to forego stopping by the bookstore, just wanting to quickly return home. You take different streets back, heeding Katherine’s advice. The drive is silent as you focus your attention on the road – your eyes frequently flicking to your rearview mirrors. You didn’t see him at the restaurant and you don’t notice any cars obviously following you, but that doesn’t dissipate your fears.

The drive takes longer than usual, but, eventually, you arrive back home. Your hand shakes as you reach for the door, hoping – praying – it’s just as you left it. The door is locked as you try the handle. You let out a sharp breath, relief flooding your veins.

You check through your house anyway, finding nothing out of the ordinary in any of the rooms. You sigh in contentment, reassured that no one else has been here. Walking towards the back of the house, you notice a smell get stronger and stronger as you approach your bedroom. The scent is familiar – calling back memories from yesterday – and your fear renews tenfold.

You push on the door, letting it smack against the wall as it swings open. In the center of your bed lies a small, white box. You walk towards it, feeling your heart beating frantically. On the box rests a note – the same looped script from yesterday defiling the otherwise pristine paper. “I can’t wait to have a taste,” the writing reads.

Lifting the lid, you peer into the box’s contents. A package of your favorite madeleines – the ones that were sold out the other day – await you. Tears spring to your eyes as you dash out of the house, once again phoning the police.

~~~~~

The following week passes by in a frenzy. After the police could again find nothing of value – apart from the two notes now in your possession – you take Layla up on her offer, scheduling a new security system to be installed as soon as possible.

It takes a few days for the workman to show up. In the days that pass, you're greeted with another treat-filled box each night you return home from work – the attached notes bearing more and more cryptic and chilling sentiments.

Once the high-tech system is installed, you're given the walk-through on how to operate it. It's a bit complex – all the buttons, codes, and alarms differing greatly from your former lock-and-key mechanism – but it'll give you some peace of mind. It takes some getting used to over the first couple of days, but it starts becoming second nature to remember to set the alarm. The notes stop appearing after the system is installed.

All the while, you follow Katherine's advice to a T. You change up your routine. With some coaxing, your boss agrees to change your hours – having you in the office much more frequently. You stop going on morning runs, choosing instead to work out in the confines of your house. When you do find time to go shopping, you try new stores. The aisles are unfamiliar and the items aren't as delicious as what you're used to, but you'll settle for just about anything at this point.

You start taking long, complex routes anytime you drive somewhere: work, the store, home. A couple of times, you find yourself driving your old routes – absentmindedly listening to your playlist; you chastise yourself on those occasions, having to double around and take twice as long to reach your destination. To make it easier on yourself, you start opting to drive in complete silence – focusing all of your attention on your surroundings.

You try abiding to Katherine's final piece of advice most strictly: staying vigilant. You haven't seen him since that day at the farmer's market, but you still have that gut feeling that he isn't far away – that he'll catch you if you slip up.

You check through your house every time you come home, making sure no more "gifts" have been delivered in your absence. You watch your rearview mirrors almost as much as you watch the road, making sure your car isn't being tailed. Every thorough search and paranoid glance always comes up empty, but you can’t stop yourself from doing them.

It gets a bit tedious at times – going to such extreme lengths over this whole matter. But it's better than having to constantly look over your shoulder, you remind yourself. Though, that's exactly what you're doing. Only, you don't realize it.

~~~~~

The past week has been killer on you. With your new work hours, you’ve been at the office non-stop – sacrificing many hours of sleep. The sleep-deprivation coupled with your ever-present anxiety have taken a toll on you – your body exhausted and brain fried.

On several occasions, you’ve caught yourself slipping back into your old routines: driving the direct rather than extended route to work, forgetting to set the alarm until hours after you’ve already been home, visiting your old stores rather than new ones. You’ve been trying to keep a watchful eye out for yourself, but it’s getting more and more difficult to keep your eyes open at all as the days drag along.

Thus, when you get home tonight, all you want to do is slump into bed and sleep the night away. You unlock your front door – immediately kicking off your shoes and throwing your purse on the entryway table. You kick the door closed before slinking away to your bedroom – barely being able to ready yourself for bed. Once you lie down, sleep promptly overtakes you.

You rest deeply for a few minutes, finally finding some peace. That is, until a sudden noise snaps you awake: the sound of the front door clicking shut. Your eyes fly open, sleep now the farthest thing from your mind. Shit! Someone’s here. Someone’s in your home.

Upon instinct, you know exactly who it is. It’s that man. The man who’s been following you for weeks. The man who’s been terrorizing you for weeks. The man who’s been haunting your dreams for weeks.

You reach over to your nightstand, searching for your phone. It’s not there. You failed to take it out of your purse when you got home. Just like you failed to set the house alarm when you got home. Just like you failed to see the black sedan following you home.

With no other choice, your best option is to hide and hope he goes away – hope he doesn’t find you. You carefully step out of bed – the floorboard making an unholy creak as you gingerly place your foot down. He’ll definitely have heard that, and he’ll be on you any second. In your panic, you fly under the bed – deciding it’s the least obvious hiding spot.

Even in the darkened room, you can see your door swing open and his shoes approach the bed. Your heart beat is thunderous – pumping so much blood through your ears that it drowns out the noise of his footsteps. You put a hand over your mouth as tears begin to fall, trying to choke back the sounds of your whimpers. The tears spill over your cheeks as you watch him move carefully.

He walks to your closet, rifling through it before obviously coming up empty. Next, he moves to your bathroom – spending only a few moments before, again, coming up empty. He walks back towards the bedroom door before stopping at the foot of the bed, directly in front of you. You hold your breath, not willing to make a single sound. The room is still for a moment.

Then, with lightning speed, he crouches down – snatching you out from underneath the bed. His hand quickly replaces yours, covering your mouth and nose. He falls on top of you – his body weighing you down on the bed, trapping you beneath him. You try to scratch at him, but he easily captures your wrists – pinning them between your bodies.

He adjusts his hold on your face, maneuvering his hand to let you breathe through your nose. You intake a sharp breath – the scent of his cologne stings your nostrils, suffocating you. He leans forward to sniff along your neck – causing an icy chill to run up your spine.

He lifts himself slightly, allowing you to see his unobstructed face up close. His irises almost glow in the dim lighting – his eyes peering down at you, penetrating you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before speaking.

“Just a taste,” he purrs against you, calling back to those notes he left you weeks ago. “That's all I want. Just a taste."

Though his words are innocent enough, the hungry glint in his eyes betrays him. That look tells you what he’s really thinking: he’s finally caught you and this is only the beginning.

__________

A/N: Sorry if you wanted to see exactly what happens next, but I’ll just leave that up to your imaginations. Regardless, I’d love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @charmed-asylum @mcudarklibrary @delicioustar (strikethrough won’t let me tag)

#dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #oneshot

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dzamie-oc · 4 years

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Smaugust 27 - Fruit

Sylvia the hammerspace dragon wants to indulge on her favorite day: the day the Dragonslayers Guild cafeteria has strawberries! Unfortunately, it seems fate and herself have conspired to set obstacles in her way. But she REALLY wants those strawberries! (2029 words)

cw: soft vore, digestion discussion, traumatized prey

Above the heads of dragonslayers and dragonslayers in training, soared a small, golden dragoness, only a couple of feet long. Sylvia flapped her wings, twisting herself through corkscrews and slow loops as she hummed a happy tune. She glided along over heads helmeted and unhelmeted, katul and human, on her way towards the cafeteria. It was a very special day that day, one that made her consider spitting out the pair of trainees who called her a harmless mascot. Well, spitting them out sooner. It made her light mood lighter still, the active reminder that she, too, could be a man-eating dragon and terrorize a rather small bit of countryside. Not that she would, of course, but knowing she could was pleasant.

With agility and grace, the tiny dragon slipped through the open door to the cafeteria and made a beeline for the desserts, where a number of slices of strawberry cake lay out for guild members. Sylvia landed behind them, folded her wings, and looked up at the human keeping that area stocked. "Hi, Bruce! I smelled strawberries~!" she called up to him in a singsong voice.

Bruce waved at her, his curly hair kept in check with a cap. "Hey, Sylvia. But you know strawberries are for those who aren't eating people, right?"

Sylvia's wings drooped and she swept her tail around her in a draconic pout. "Aw, c'mon, how'd you even know?"

The human crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, holding up two fingers. "Simple," he explained, "one, better than even odds this time of year. Plenty of newbies around who've yet to learn Rule Number One. And two," Bruce's smile grew into a self-satisfied grin, "you just told me. Lucky guess turned into a certainty."

The little dragoness huffed, flapping her wings once and slapping her golden tail against the table. She had been betrayed by her own words! "I still want strawberries, though," she insisted.

"So just- hold on," Bruce said, setting out a sleeve of cookies to replace the one that just got cleared out, "so head into the bathroom or something, spit 'em out, and come back for your strawberries."

"Turning my punishment for them into a punishment for me?" Sylvia observed, "pure treachery. Unfettered evil. I really want those strawberries." She tilted her head as she looked at Bruce, smiled deviously, and licked her muzzle with a long, forked tongue. "And you, Bruce, are standing in my way..."

The man regarded her with skepticism, eyebrow quirked to match. "They'll be here when you get back, trust me. And if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, you better not be." He gestured with a hand to the people picking up cookies or cake as they spoke. "I mean, if I vanish, who will refill this? Then you've got a bunch of dessert-less dragonslayers with a pretty good idea that a dragon is responsible for their lack of sugary sweets, and possibly which one in particular. Imagine the carnage."

Sylvia squinted at him. "Bruce, I must say that your reasoning is exactly as strong as mine," she said slowly, "and, as you are still keeper of the strawberries I so crave, I will concede and presently return, devoid of humans." She stepped across the counter, picking her way carefully around desserts until she found a good space from which to take off. Just before spreading her wings, she turned her little head to face him again. "Can I eat you after lunch, then?"

"Sorry little lady, I have some very important not-being-eaten-by-a-dragoness to do around then. Fully booked."

"Alas, schedules," Sylvia conceded, then leapt up and flapped her golden wings. Some crumbs from a nearby cookie blew away from her wings' downdraft, but it was otherwise a very polite takeoff. She climbed, then dove and banked to speed off towards an unoccupied restroom. And by unoccupied, she meant the out of order one.

The small dragon pushed the door open with some effort, then slipped inside and perched on a sink. It was easy to see why there was a sign up on this one - two of the sinks were simply not there, as were a few stall doors. Either way, it made the perfect isolated space to disgorge a couple wet fools. And so she did.

The tiger katul quickly got his bearings, then noticed Sylvia and skipped back to keep his distance. The human was a bit slower, and, on seeing the dragoness, she shot the katul a cocky smile. "See? We're perfectly fine."

The feline nodded, not daring to take his eyes off of her. "I'm grateful," he said in a quiet voice.

"You're welcome!" chirped Sylvia. "This would've ended differently if you were, like, graduated members who should know better. I'm nice to the new guys."

"Sure you are," the human remarked. "You're surrounded by dragonslayers; there's no way we were ever in any danger."

Sylvia turned on the tap she was perched near and took a quick drink before addressing the woman. "Under three humans or katul a week, with low hoarding, and they can't even challenge me, let alone force me to accept. It's part of the enchantments around their swords and the duel circle things." She gave each of them a pointed look. "Small category dragon, green/yellow threshold. You'll have to learn it for... what is it, second year? Well before you get your real Slayer's Sword." She turned to the tiger and smiled. "But she's kind of right - I'm rarely lethal, just like to remind people of that first Rule. Know what that is, guy?"

The katul opened his mouth to answer, but the human cut in faster, "yeah, yeah, take all dragons seriously, even if they don't look like a threat. But you're clearly not a threat. You're like a scared-straight... thing." She snorted. "Hell, you're probably an herbivore or something, can't even process meat so you just do what you did to us."

A growl rose and died in Sylvia's throat, and she turned to face the woman, baring her sharp yet tiny teeth in a wide grin. "Care to bet your life on it?" she asked, forcing a sweet tone too much to be natural. "I'll eat you again, and if I'm really harmless, I'll have to let you out eventually."

"A... and if you're not?" the tiger asked.

"Then I won't have a human in my belly, I'll have a large chunk of meat and some shiny accessories I'll want to add to my hoard," Sylvia replied in a nonchalant tone. "You, however, aren't at risk here, just Little Miss Doubtful here." The dragoness leaned towards the human. "Scared? I don't bite."

Sylvia was conflicted, herself; on one paw, it would be nice for the woman to learn her lesson and back down, but on the other, eating her would be so cathartic... Fortunately for Sylvia, it wasn't her decision to make. The human stepped forward and held out her hands, then smirked towards the tiger. "I'll see you in a few hours," she said, confident in her decision. Sylvia took the offered hands, easily gulping the much larger human down without so much as a bulge in her neck or belly. And then, it was just her and the tiger.

He took a cautious step forward, watching her. "Where did she..." he trailed off, bewilderment overtaking his newfound fear of the golden dragoness.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't have seen since I ate you first!" Sylvia swished her tail, reared up on her haunches, and flared her wings proudly. "Neat trick, huh? Hammerspace dragon. We're pretty awesome."

The katul glanced at the door. "Y-yeah... may I please leave, ma'am?"

"Yeah, of course, the door's right-" Sylvia paused as his phrasing sank in. "Oh, you're terrified of me. Whoops. Um, right, so I'll go ahead and leave so I'm not trapping you in here." She took to the air again and flapped over to the door again. She struggled to open it, but with just a crack open, the smell of strawberries reinvigorated her. "Ooh, right, strawberries! Gotta go and pester Bruce some more!" she chirped, then slipped back out and swiftly flew straight back to the desserts area.

"Such a hurry," Bruce remarked as she slowed, the tiny breeze from her wings blowing against his face as she rapidly decelerated, "I told you I wasn't gonna run out of them."

"And I told you," she replied, folding her wings, "that I really want them. Give the dragon her delicious strawberries, please!"

"Belly free of people?" he asked, watching her closely. It was simple enough that he didn't expect her to lie, but just in case...

"No humans, no katul!" she chirped.

"No dragons?"

Sylvia recoiled. "What sicko would eat a dragon?! Yes, of course no dragons!"

Bruce chuckled, turned around, and returned with a pound of strawberries in a small, cardboard container. He set it down in front of the small dragoness, whose mouth fell open in a broad smile and whose pupils expanded at the sight of her favorite fruit. As she placed her forepaws on the edge and leaned in, Sylvia said in awe, "so this is what a religious experience feels like..." before leaning in and slowly taking a bite from one of the fruits, moaning softly as the juicy, tart flesh filled her mouth.

"Sylvia, member of the Dragonslayers Guild Strawnagogue, and her holy book The Frageriah," the human said as he watched her lovingly devour one of the fruits. Anyone familiar with her could tell when she really liked a food, because she'd bite into it rather than swallowing it whole, and strawberries were by far her most beloved food. He glanced up and saw an unfamiliar tiger katul, damp fur only somewhat groomed down, walking up. "Hey there," he called when the katul drew near, "new here?"

"Yeah, it's been... rough. Is getting eaten normal for dragonslayers?" He picked up a slice of strawberry cake.

"Well, it's one of the more common ways to die trying to slay a dragon," Bruce said, "but it sounds like you're the one Sylvia swallowed earlier. She just about threw a fit since I wouldn't give her strawberries with someone in her stomach."

"I did not! Fits are unjustified and excessive; what I did was perfectly reasonable!" Sylvia retorted, poking her juice-soaked head out of the strawberries. The katul screamed and leapt back half a dozen feet, eyes wide on seeing her. "What's his prob-" she looked down at her paw, then licked her muzzle experimentally, discovering the red juices on her muzzle. "Oh. Wow, he's been really unlucky with me." She blinked, then ducked back down into her strawberry heaven, slowly working through the treat, bite by tiny bite.

The tiger pointed a shaky, striped finger at the little dragoness. "Stay away from her! She killed a woman in front of me, like it was just another Thursday for her!"

Sylvia froze. Bruce froze. "Sylvia..." the human said in a warning tone, "care to explain? Because I asked you about this before giving you those strawberries."

The golden dragoness took another bite. Bruce gently picked her up, pinning her wings with one hand and holding her neck in the other. She dropped the strawberry. "I... do not consider what is in my stomach to be a human?" she pled.

Bruce was not very convinced. He walked around the counter, keeping her a reasonable distance away from the frightened newbie, and marched towards the cafeteria exit. "No murder in the cafeteria," he scolded, "naughty dragons do not get strawberries. Try another day."

The little dragon wiggled in his hands, but could not free herself. "This is cruel and unusual punishment, it violates the Geneva Conventions!" she argued, "I simply made sure to eat a meal before my strawberry dessert. How dare you mistreat a responsible, mature dragoness like th- woah!" She quickly righted herself when he tossed her into the hallway, then left her there as he went back to his post.

"Next strawberry day," she resolved, licking her scales clean of delicious strawberry juice and seeds, "next time, I will get so many strawberries."

#soft vore #dragon #smaugust #v/ore #v.ore #v ore #writing #digestion #writers on tumblr #hammerspace dragon #ocs #oc: sylvia #katul #human #smaugust 2020 #text

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headoverhiddles · 4 years

Text

Bat-Shaped Glasses - Marilyn Manson x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You and another guest need a little salvation from the party you're at.

Notes: Well, this was supposed to be fluffy, but as you all know, one thing leads to another, and... smut. Also, this takes place during Eat Me Drink Me era!

Tag List: @livelifewondering

It's early October. This month is "your month" or as you've been reminded by everyone in your circle for the past 7 days. You love Halloween-- something that inspired you to become a horror actress in the first place-- but hearing "spooktober" every other sentence at this party was tiring, to say the least.

Halloween parties are usually fun, but this one is an industry party. You and the rest of the cast of Hell's Most Wanted, a hot new horror franchise, had been invited.

Oh, well. At least you could stand here, look fabulous in the bat shaped glasses and silver bat scarf you had thrown on, enjoy the spiked vampire punch here in Hollywood tonight, and hope someone you'd like to meet walks by. Speaking of Hollywood and vampires...

"Depp!" you call. Your friend whirls around, tan brown hair wild, and spots you through narrowed eyes. He's got a headband with light up devil horns on, and a bit of red glittery eyeshadow on.

"Ah! (y/n)." He frowns for a moment. "You look like you could use another drink, love." You glance down at your glass, realizing it's currently empty.

"Looks like you're right." You two walk over to the refreshments table, and you thank him as he refills your punch, getting a few bat shaped ice cubes in there for you.

"So. Who did your makeup?" you ask, raising a brow.

"A very dear friend of mine... whom I seem to keep losing. Ah, there he is. When in doubt, look for the brooding shadow in the corner."

Johnny grabs your hand, and leads you over to a man with black hair, black eyeshadow, and press on lower lashes. His lips are ruby red, skin pale, and he's got a long, sweeping black cloak on with ornate black patterning. Cherry on top, his height is intimidating too.

"Nice vampire costume," you smile. The guy looks over at you, unimpressed.

"I look like this everyday. But thanks."

Johnny comes in behind his gothic friend, giving him a shoulder rub. "Manson, play nice. That's (y/n) (y/l/n)."

"Never heard of her."

"She's a lovely girl."

"Mm."

"She is!"

"Mm."

"Well," you say awkwardly, pursing your lips, "Nice meeting you, good seeing you Johnny, I'm gonna--"

"Wait," an eye roll from him, "I apologize." The man steps forward, extending a pale hand. "I come off as an asshole until I... y'know, decide not to."

You cautiously decide to shake his hand. His skin is warmer than you expected. "What made you change your mind?"

He smiles wryly. "I don't know. Something about you."

You nod slowly. "(y/n) (y/l/n)."

He shakes your hand. "Marilyn Manson."

Johnny digs out a hand-rolled cigarette, then produces a bag of them. "Anyone for a smoke?"

"Blacken your lungs on your own, Depp," Marilyn mutters, giving a sarcastic wave, "Unless the lady would like to join you, in which case... I'll grin and bear it."

You giggle. "I'm fine."

"Right then. I'm off." Johnny kisses Marilyn on the cheek, then you, then pops off through the crowd, disappearing to the terrace that overlooks West Hollywood.

"Man, these parties are bullshit," Marilyn comments. "You don't know whether to get fucked up or fall asleep." You burst into laughter. He really cuts to the chase, but he's not wrong.

"That about sums it up," you nod.

"Then again, you could do both. But in what order?"

"We could just go find a bush and have a nap," you shrug, "I don't think anyone would miss us." He finally cracks a small smile, walking with you through the crowd.

"That's starting to sound like more and more of a good idea."

You make it to the banquet table, and you pick up two strawberry (booberry, as they're dubbed) cream puffs. He accepts his, and you eat yours, letting the strawberry jelly gush down your lip.

"Now who's the vampire?" he smirks. You blush, wiping your face, and he motions with his head to the terrace. You both walk out, and he breathes a sigh of relief, sitting down in the garden. Black roses surround you, the venue obviously taking their star studded Halloween party seriously. It's as if you're caught up in a gothic novel... or the Addams Family.

"Here." Marilyn places his cream puff on your knee. You shake your head.

"I got it for you."

"I just took it from you so you wouldn't look stupid carrying two around." You give him a funny look. He elaborates. "I don't eat at parties. I'm sick enough already trying to bring myself to talk to people." He shakes his head. "It honestly feels like I'm back in high school sometimes."

You place the cream puff beside you, blinking. "That's exactly how I feel."

He gives a sad smile. "Funny. They don't tell you this, but you can't ever escape the shit. It's all classroom politics-- blame the scapegoat, who's the prettiest, who fucks the best, get dumped when you’re no longer socially useful, and every man for himself."

"High school never really ends, I guess," you say, and watch the crowd of costumed celebrities mingle and laugh. You feel his eyes on you. "I bet you think I was some kind of cheerleader or something in high school," you say.

"No," he says simply, folding his hands in his lap, "I don't have any judgement about you whatsoever. I think it's short-sighted to say that someone looks like they were the pretty one, or the nerd, or the jock. Anybody can become anybody." He glares around. "Although I can tell you that you could find 80% of the guys at this party beating me up for my lunch money."

You look around as well. "I've found that Hollywood, for me, is like all the artsy kids joined up and created a club."

"That's true," Marilyn muses, "It's like all the weird kids were given agents, fancy cars and drugs, and told to go play. I guess it depends on your crowd, though. I know people from all over the social map, but it takes a lot to be my friend." He cocks his head. "Johnny did a good job of snaking his way in with a few snarky comments." You look around for Johnny, though he's probably sauntered off somewhere private. He likes parties for the free alcohol, and nothing else really.

"What were you like in high school, anyway?" you ask softly, sipping your drink. Marilyn crosses his legs, placing his painted fingernails over his knee.

"I was the kid no one wanted to be seen with. No matter what you were, you wouldn't have either. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have tried to sleep with you, though." He smirks. You shrug.

"Maybe you would've been successful."

"I had a mullet."

"Yikes. Nevermind."

A real laugh comes out of him, and he ducks his head, tucking his black hair behind his ear. You think it's fascinating how shy he is... an international rock star like him. But, just as Marilyn said, proper judgement is impossible in situations such as these.

"What was your prom night like?" you ask.

"My prom night?"

"Mhmm."

"Boring. I went out with the girl, jerked off when she wouldn't put out." He shrugs. "Didn't help that the suit was thick, it kept rubbing against my dick and gave me a hard on. Of course, at that age, the wind could blow and I'd get an erection. She looked at my crotch, saw that I had a boner, hit me with her purse and called me a pervert. I knew the relationship was over when I pointed out that she was the one looking at my crotch in the first place." You giggle, and he smiles, shaking his head. "People get uncomfortable when you point out their hypocrisy." He rolls his palms on his knees, taking a deep breath of fresh air. "Okay. What was your prom night like?"

"I was drunk, I don't remember."

He looks at you incredulously for a second, obviously not expecting that answer. "Alright, enough with this high school reunion shit," he says. "We're both here now, at a party in Hollywood, you're talking to Public Enemy Number 1 and I'm talking to Hell's Most Wanted, so I guess we both did something right."

You stand up. "A-ha! So you do know who I am!"

Honest to god, you see him blush. "Yeah. A lot of people do."

"You were faking!"

"That's what I do," he smiles sarcastically, "I'm as fake as a wedding cake."

You step closer to him. "Somehow, I don't think that's true."

You two walk across the terrace. The sound of the traffic in the distance is almost enough to overpower the beginning of Enter Sandman, which is playing inside. "This is the only song I like by Metallica," you tell him. He looks back into the party.

"It's okay. I've been listening to Moon Over Bourbon Street by Sting for the past month, to get over the break up to end all break ups.”

“Oh yeah.” You recall seeing something about Marilyn Manson and divorce in the tabloids recently. “Dita, right?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, looking down. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, and you don’t press. “Anyway, I wish they'd play Bourbon Street here. Those words make me feel eternal, and it’s not like it would be out of place at a Halloween party."

"I swear, you must be a real vampire," you tease.

He gives that shy laugh. "I'm a vampire in every sense of being one, without actually being one. I go out at night, sleep half the day away. I'm pale, I like blood." He purses his lips. "I just don't like the taste of it."

"No? What do you drink, then?"

"Absinthe."

Before he can say anything else, you snake through the crowd over to the bar, ordering two Death In The Afternoons, which is a delicious mixture of champagne and Marilyn's poison of choice. You hand him one, and he accepts, sipping it.

"Mm. You trying to get me drunk?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"This is probably the most sober anyone's seen me for weeks," he confides. "I don't know if you'd like me when I'm drunk. Not many people do."

You clink your glass against his. "Same goes for me, Manson."

He looks at you for a long time, until you start to fidget a little. He finally blinks those long eyelashes, tongue coming out to swipe his painted red lips.

"You're very pretty."

You blush hard. "One sip is all it took to get that out of you?"

"I won't let the absinthe take credit for another mistake I make," he smiles, eyes dark and honest, "I've been thinking that since you first called me a vampire."

"I didn't mean anything by it," you whisper, walking back into a dark corner, grinning. He follows, eyes a black pit you want to get lost in.

"No, I get it. Dark, mysterious."

"Charming."

"Brooding."

"Sexy," you moan, and he downs the rest of his drink, dropping it on someone's table.

"Alright. The absinthe might be in control from here on out, but fuck it." He cups your cheeks, and presses you into that corner, shadows enveloping your two rocking bodies as those blood red lips slip down to touch yours.

"Please," you moan, and he doesn't quite know what you're asking, but he takes a leap of faith, sliding his hands beneath your skirt and bunching it up. His hands move beneath the waistband of your lace panties, and he uses one hand to squeeze your ass, the other using slender fingers to masterfully circle your clit. Well, that was fucking fast.

You breathe heavily into his shoulder, and he draws back a little, eyes searching yours for any little hint as to what's working and what's not. When your eyes roll back and you bite your lip, he continues with the rubbing, rocking his hips forward as well.

Your hands dip into the opening of his cloak, and find his belt buckle, unlatching it slowly, each rock of the hips and grind of his hand against you slow, dirty, deliberate.

"I want you to make me cum on your fingers," you whisper.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" he whispers back, lips moving down to nibble at the line of your jaw.

"Yes..."

"Ask again."

"Marilyn, please."

You kiss him again, the two of you making out as your fingers wrap around his semi-hard cock. He hisses slightly at the sensation of your cold hand around him, but a few seconds tick by, and your skin warms up to his, dragging beautifully up and down his hardness.

"You keep doin' that, I'm gonna get your hand real messy," he whispers.

"Get it all over me," you growl, the dirtiness of your words urging you on, "I wanna feel it when we cum together."

"Fuck," he groans, and dips his fingers into you. You marvel at his talent-- in two strokes of his fingers, he's found your g-spot, and you're arching into him, breasts pressed against his chest.

More than a few thoughts are whirling through your head, but you vaguely tell yourself this is just a rebound for him. He was imagining his ex-wife, that’s all, and--

“(y/n)?” he gasps out, and you’re surprised he’s moaning your name.

“Yeah?”

“C-can I... tell you a secret?”

“Mhmm...”

“After the first episode of Hell’s Most Wanted... I had to jack off.”

You almost laugh, and it comes out as a groan. You imagine Marilyn jacking off, thinking of you... him even having a tiny crush on you.

"God, that’s so hot," you pant, jerking him faster. He tries to whisper your name again, but it gets garbled as he gasps and cums in your hand. This only forces his fingers deeper, and you grab onto his hair and bite his bottom lip as you cum hard too, riding his fingers in the dark corner of the room.

"Ow," he smiles, pulling away and dabbing at the blood on his lip from the bite. You grin, licking it up with a swipe of your tongue.

"See? I could be your vampire."

"Sweetheart. If I was your vampire, we'd have each other til the sun."

"You're poetic."

"And you're still pretty."

"Glad I haven't lost my appeal after all that," you snort, as the two of you glance around sheepishly. You find napkins to clean up with, and pass him one.

"Nah," he says, taking your other hand, "I think I've warmed up to the idea of you. At least while the moon is still up."

You take a glance outside, and see a crescent moon trying its best to shine on all the ghosts and ghouls of Hollywood gathered at this party. It's a valiant effort on its part, and it brings the spooky spirit of the evening back.

"Looks like we have a few more hours,”

“Just don’t break my heart,” he warns.

Against all better judgement, you question him. “What happens if I do?” He lifts a finger up to flick the plastic wings of the novelty Halloween sunglasses.

“Then I’ll break your bat-shaped glasses.”

You take his arm, and you two outsiders re-enter the festive crowd, anonymous but no longer alone.

#marilyn manson #marilyn manson x reader #reader x marilyn manson #brian warner #brian warner x reader #reader x brian warner #eat me drink me era #eat me drink me #vampires #halloween #halloween party #marilyn manson fandom #marilyn manson fanfic #marilyn manson fanfiction #bandom #bandom fic #marilyn manson band #johnny depp #marilyn manson imagine

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need-a-fugue · 4 years

Text

Why Not? - Chapter Three

Summary: With a garage to run and a young daughter to, well… run after, Bucky Barnes doesn’t exactly have time for dating. And with his relationship track record – and the constant meddling of a certain overbearing best friend – he’s not so sure that’s a bad thing. But then he meets Annie – a rather insistent, pretty damn cute fellow car enthusiast – and it’s got him asking himself, despite all his hesitations, why not?

Author’s Note: Written for Little Darlin’s Mystery AU Challenge. Thanks to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for triggering this… sprawling thing simply by supplying me with the prompt of Mechanic!AU for Bucky. It’s taken on a life of its own already… look at what you’ve done!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: Your teeth may rot from sweetness...

Chapter Three

The place is nearly empty – not so surprising for four o’clock on a Sunday – and it makes their little meetup look more like a quick bite out between friends than a first date. But when Bucky texted late Friday night – Sorry, Lana’s sitter cancelled. Can’t make it for dinner tomorrow. – Annie’s slightly overzealous, more than a bit insistent nature burst forth in all its tenacious glory and pushed and pushed until she got him to offer up this small window of free time. She had berated herself – out loud in front of the bathroom mirror – for at least an hour after their text exchange ended, absolutely horrified that she had backed him into a corner and somehow turned their date into an early bird special at the pub down the block from where his daughter is having a swim lesson.

But her doggedness had set something off in Bucky. And it wasn’t the fact that she seemed so interested in meeting up with him that did it. Though it had been a long time since a woman pursued him to this degree. It was actually something about her perfectly controlled attempts at organizing this date – her swift and methodical breakdown of his, admittedly, all-over-the-place schedule – that weirdly… turned him on. She took control of the whole damn thing, and damn if that didn’t just give flight to a horde of butterflies that – even now as the two sit in awkward silence across from one another in a dark and empty pub – are beating their tiny wings mercilessly into the lining of his stomach.

The silence is finally cut through when Annie clears her throat, delicately cocking her head to the side as she looks over at him. “You, uh,” she mutters, leaning forward and reaching out to gingerly swipe her thumb across the side of his neck. A rather uncomfortable giggle ripples out of her as she pulls away, settles back into her seat, and holds up her hand to show him the small red glob she managed to pull off of him. “Looks like… jam?” she questions, inspecting it herself before quickly wiping it away onto the napkin in her lap. She catches him giving her a curious look, corner of his mouth curling ever so slightly into a coy grin. “Sorry,” she breathes out, ducking her head to hide the sudden blush blazing its way up her cheeks. “I just… I noticed it…”

“Yeah,” he says lightly, breathy chuckle following on its heels. “No, we… uh had waffles with strawberry jam for breakfast.” He clears his throat awkwardly, the stilted sound pulling her attention. When she looks back up, it’s to find him smiling nervously as he rubs at the back of his neck. A small snort, a tentative glance, a twitch of his fingers as his hand slowly rolls around to his jaw, swiftly scrubbing at the thick scruff. “Shit. I guess that’s been there all day.”

“Well,” she breathes out, biting down on the corner of her lip to keep from smiling too wide at his obvious embarrassment. “Can’t blame you for saving some. That does sound pretty delicious.”

“Yeah?” He grins, all crooked and charming, the ease with which he shifts from nervous to confident actually startling him a bit. “You wanna skip out on burgers and come over for waffles instead?”

Her eyes blow wide, thick, apprehensive laugh bubbling up from her chest and spilling out along with a teasing, “You’re very forward!”

“Nah,” he hums, waving a hand absently through the air. “I just have about four dozen extras in the freezer now that I need to get rid of.” He looks up at her, locking his dazzling blue eyes onto hers and raising a single dubious brow. “You don’t even have to come inside. Really. I’ll just run them out to you. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Annie leans back and laughs, the light, melodic giggles flowing so easily into the small space between them, seeping into his pores and setting his skin aflame. “Do you have enough strawberry jam for all of them?” she asks, steeling her features in an attempt at a serious inquiry.

He shakes his head – “Definitely not.” – and relaxes in his seat, letting his shoulders slacken as he lays his forearms out onto the tabletop, absently twisting his fingers together. “But we’re going through a testing phase right now. Trying out different things. One day it’s strawberry jam on the waffles, next day whipped cream…”

“Oh, there should always be whipped cream,” she interrupts, chin and lips tightening into a stolid directive.

He chuckles a bit before going on to list, “hot fudge sauce, orange marmalade,” stopping briefly to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “Maple syrup,” he declares, quirking a very stern stare her way, “the way it oughtta be.” Then his features soften once more, delicate smile splitting his face. “Last week was butterscotch… just glad we made it over that disgusting hurdle.”

“Out of curiosity,” she intones, brow furrowing in deep interest, “is it you or Lana who’s so set on this testing?”

A swift, breathy laugh falls from his lips, his head shaking languidly. “Not me… I get pretty stuck in my ways. No,” he mutters, tone taking on a sort of wistful twang. “No, my baby girl’s the adventurous one.”

“That’s a good thing, though, right?” she asks, leaning forward to mirror his posture, elbows up onto the table, shoulders slumped and relaxed. “My niece is three and I don’t think she’s eaten anything that isn’t some shade of yellow in about a year and a half.”

“Yellow?” He lets out put-on shudder. “We went through a green phase last year. But that really just meant a lot of spinach and green beans.”

“Ah, yes… we have wax beans. And corn. Lots of bananas. And far too much cheese.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head in a sort of miserable solidarity with her sister – with all toddler parents. “I babysat last week,” she goes on, “and I had to coat each chicken nugget in mustard ‘til they were dripping just to get her to eat them.”

“Svetlana won’t eat mustard,” he announces simply. “But if you like ketchup, I’ve got about fifty gallons in the cupboard.”

The two share a soft laugh, each pulling back and sitting upright when the waiter comes by to take their order. A bacon cheeseburger for Bucky, no onions, extra pickles. Annie quirks an almost suspicious brow at him as he hands over his menu, giving the waiter little more than a sidelong glance as she says, eyes still plastered to the man across from her, “Same. Medium rare.”

Bucky catches her gaze, the corners of his mouth quirking just a little bit higher, skin around his eyes crinkling just a little bit deeper as he watches her with an amused sort of interest. He says nothing, simply scooting his chair closer and leaning forward once again, his bright blue eyes never leaving hers.

It’s little more than a moment before the silence becomes too much for her bear – not that any sort of silence has ever been particularly bearable for Annie – and she clears her throat again, ducking out of his piercing stare. “Svetlana,” she starts, forced casual note to her voice. “That’s a beautiful name. Don’t hear it too often.”

He nods lightly, winding his fingers together once again and twiddling them distractedly as he nibbles at the corner of his lip. “Yep,” he says, letting his lip pop loose along with the P. “Means light,” he goes on, brows rising appreciatively before his countenance takes on a soft, almost wistful character. “Light of my life.” He shrugs. “’Course, poor baby girl still can’t actually say it.”

A small hum escapes her as she watches the man across from her, rather silly, crooked grin tugging at her face as his almost seems to glow. “It’s Russian?” she asks simply, chin falling to her open palm as her body unconsciously shifts forward, leaning closer to him.

His eyes flick back to hers, the dreamy quality slowly dissipating as he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, her mom is Russian.”

She nods, a bit hesitant to ask, but too keenly curious not to… “Right. You said you were divorced. Was that… recent?”

“Nah,” he says, shoulders lifting in a casual shrug. “We split a couple years ago. Never really shoulda gotten married to begin with.” Another shrug, this one looking almost forced. “Just seemed like the right thing to do.” His gaze drops down to his hands for the briefest of moments, forehead furrowing as he watches his fingers shift and clench, white knuckling as they worry each other. He pulls them apart and shakes them out swiftly before reclining back in his chair. “We were always better at just being… friends.”

Something in her chest catches at that – the solemn sincerity with which he breathes out those words, better at being friends – and she feels suddenly… lighter, the tension she’d been carrying in her muscles, ever since brazenly asking Bucky to dinner the other day, finally easing, if only a bit. “And you’re still friends now?”

He looks up at her, seeming almost surprised by the question. “Yeah. Yeah, Nat’s great. She loves Lana like crazy… great mom. And she’s pretty relaxed about the schedule, you know?” The light blue of his eyes begins to haze, a sort of gray cloudiness pushing over his irises. “It’s easier right now, though. Just daycare and swim lessons to juggle.” He breathes out a short chuckle. “And soccer. But that’s… not real soccer right now, you know? Not like the games really mean anything, or like she’s missing anything if we skip a practice.” He shrugs blithely and bites down on his bottom lip. “She starts kindergarten next year, though. Not sure what it’ll be like once she’s in school.”

Annie’s brows tug tightly together. “What do you mean?”

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, rocking it a bit and dragging it across the wood floor with a small scrape. “Just… Natasha wants to put her in this private school by her.” The clouds in his eyes thicken despite the soft smile that tugs at his lips. “It’s a good school. I’m all for it. But… it’s right by her. ‘Bout forty minutes from me.” A quick shrug, an almost painful laugh. “It’d probably be easier… better… for her to stay over there during the week.”

Ah. Annie pulls in a deep breath, finds herself nodding slowly as she takes that in, lips pursing as she thinks on what to say… thinks on how she might be able veer away from this obviously sensitive subject. First date, she reminds herself, those two words rolling around inside her head as she continues to watch Bucky absently gnaw on his lip. This is supposed to be a first date, not a damn therapy session.

“It’s good, though,” he spurts out suddenly, pulling himself upright in the chair. “It’ll be good for her. To have that stability. It’ll just be hard… on me.” Some light returns to his eyes as he offers another smile, small but genuine. “Might have more room in the freezer, though.”

She laughs lightly and quickly takes the out he offers, pulling away from any talk of exes and custody arrangements. “Why did you make so many waffles?”

He cocks his head and looks at her as though she just asked him why the sky is blue. Because it is. Because that’s just how it is. “Because Lana wanted to.”

She nods slowly, realization washing over her. Of course it’d be that simple.

“You know,” he breathes out, pensive look on his face. “You’re pretty easy to talk to.”

“I am?”

He lets out a gentle laugh. “You didn’t know?”

She shrugs blithely, crooked grin blooming. “I may have been told that before. I think it’s just what happens when you show genuine interest in a person.”

“Oh,” he intones, brows rising and face pulling into what she’s already beginning to recognize as his teasing guise. “So you’re genuinely interested? In me?”

Another shrug, the forced casualness of the motion being just over the top enough to cause an expectant tingle to trace up Bucky’s spine as he watches her. “Maybe.”

He shakes his head lazily back and forth, blows out a long sigh as he does so. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I think your boss might be even more interested. I mean, he practically stalked me for weeks.”

“Ugh,” she moans out dramatically, falling face first atop the table with a dull thud. Her shoulders shake with silent laughter, the man across from her snorting out a sudden and thoroughly amused chortle of his own as she lays splayed out before him for a moment longer. She pulls herself upright, trailing her fingers through her long, thick hair in an attempt to right it, and locks onto Bucky’s thoroughly entertained gaze. “I told you,” she practically whines. “I didn’t know he would do that. And I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, you better be,” he says with mock offense.

Her eyes narrow accusingly. “You know, I have access to all of his receipts. I saw how much he’s been paying you. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” he snorts. “He needed a job done. I did it.”

A single brow cocks high, the rather indignant expression setting off those damn butterflies in Bucky’s stomach once again. “He’s a mechanical engineer. He runs pilot programs out of MIT. His father built the first working model of a flying car.” She leans heavily over the table, positioning herself close enough to him that he can almost feel her breath hot on his face. “Tony Stark can do his own tune-ups.” She flops lazily back into her chair, smile brimming with snark and sass, and Bucky realizes that the heat on his cheeks may not have been from her breath after all, but from his own body betraying him with a fiery blush. “Hell, he could build a robot to do all of that for him.”

He clears his throat thickly, eyes shifting away for a beat so he can… regather himself. “All of a sudden, I’m feeling very used,” he mutters vaguely, gaze bouncing back to hers upon hearing a bright shock of laughter. “It’s true,” he deadpans, not at all succeeding at keeping the grin off his face. “And honestly,” he mutters softly, the thought only just now occurring to him, “I can’t help but think that someone who helped her dad rebuild a Mustang might just know how to change her own oil too.”

A look of alarm flashes across her face, leaving a slightly embarrassed – slightly charmed – crooked smirk in its wake. “I guess you’re on to me,” she admits with a sigh. Then, leveling him with the kind of overconfident stare he had not yet seen – nor expected to see – on that delicate, dimpled face, she says, “Now that you know what I was willing to do just to get to know you a little better… what kind of hoops are you willing to jump through for me?”

He takes a moment to answer, his pale blue eyes boring into her, stabbing deep down into her soul as he gazes tenderly at her. “Well,” he says finally, never shifting his stare. “I guess I could pay for your burger.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #ldamc #dad!bucky #Bucky Barnes #marvel fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengersau #bucky x oc #bucky x original female character #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x original

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coconutshvings · 5 years

Text

ATZ Reaction: Their S/O is not taking care of themselves [Bulletin]

▣ Group || Ateez

▣ Genre || ??

▣ Warnings || None

→ In Which you're stressed and are neglecting your much needed activities in order to be a healthy human being, making your Boyfriend troubled in the process.

Requested // Idk if requests are still open but can you write about ateez reaction to their s/o not eating enough because of stress? ❤️ //@world-is-just-illusion 💟

Hongjoong:

He noticed right away, he has that eye for when his loved ones are in distress

and he'd become strict with you just like he'd do with the boys if they weren't treating themselves well

you're no different in fact it might be a little worse in terms of his constant demand that you eat better.

At first he'd ask what is causing you to miss meals however once you exclaimed it being the smart man he Is he'd buy you some snacks,

things that'll be small but no too much just to keep you energized and filled up just until you'd be ready for a real meal.

"Just eat this for now it'll hold you over a little til you're ready for something more."

Seonghwa:

Mommy mode as expected, he's not one to pick and bicker he wants you to come to him

but there comes a time where he has to be the one to bring it up simply because he's worried but also wants to know if he's overreacting.

When you tell him you missed a meal or two simply because stress makes you lose your appetite he just makes some small but satisfying dishes and putd them up in case you get hungry,

he constantly, if he can, checks and see if you've eaten anything he's fixed if not he'll advise you to at least try

and if still nothing appeals to your stomach he'll just try again when he's actually with you.

"Don't rush I understand, maybe later you'll have an appetite, love."

Yunho:

If you refuse to eat because of stress he might try to force you to eat immediately trying to level with you giving ultimatums like,

if you don't at least try to eat he won't speak to you til you do, all he wants for you is try something,

even if it's just a spoonful of ceral he's fine with baby steps but absolutely no eating? Not gonna work, he wants you in your best health

even if it's a little something it could lead to something more ,

he's not trying to be harsh it's tough love but not too tough.

"I'm not trying to be harsh Y/n, you know I love you I just want you to try."

Yeosang:

Definitely tries to be delicate about it when he asks if you've eaten and you inform him that you haven't had a single grain of anything all day because you've been stressed trying to figure things out and since you haven't you've deprived yourself of food without knowing.

He'd be sad wondering how to tell you that you should Eat without upsetting you.

He's a sweetheart and adores every bit of you which means he kind of panics if you haven't eaten and argues with himself on if he should just leave you be or say something ,

in the end he knows you'd be concerned about him if the roles were reversed plus he'd never want to seem like he doesn't care

so he delicately suggest that you eat something even if it's just a bit of something.

"I'm only suggesting you try to put something on your stomach I'm not going to force you to, but I hope you do try to eat."

San:

He's all ears when you say you're stressed and haven't been eating daily like you should,

he wants to hear what lead you to be so hasty about your eating habits.

Once you open up to tell him he's open about his advice on possible solutions and makes a deal that helps the both of you,

he negotiates with you like Yunho except his way of getting you to eat is less of an ultimatum and more of a Win Win situation for the both you, it'll work because he's persuasive and kind it makes you feel relieved and with less stress on your shoulders

there's more room in your stomach for food, you both are at ease after that. "How about this, you tell me from now on things that are affecting you negatively,

"I'll do my best to help and you eat whatever you have room for?"

Mingi:

He wants to help you release stress and eat so he does his best to do both, he offers you a chance to rant to him

or he'd offer a massage, cuddling also, but over some delicious appetizers, or maybe something like an Apple, small.

He's getting you to talk and eat a little bit whatever it takes to get you to be more easy on yourself and get you your much needed snack or meal,

it works because you get all you need and so does he which is a peaceful more energized you,

he feels accomplished in the boyfriend department for sure and will use this method often as long as you eat and relieve the built up stress.

"Okay, tell me what's working your nerves but let's do this while eating a little snack, yeah?"

Wooyoung:

He's going to take care of you, he's going to notice your distressed state after a while and when you tell him he will not be having it.

He'll offer his ears, no advice unless you ask for it but his ears are one hundred percent yours when you need them, he wants to hold you nestled together and feeds you something,

whatever you want just ready to listen to whatever it Is that's making you sad In the slightest he wants you to know that he'll take care of you if you need him to and listen to you intently .

He's there to comfort you and feed you. Also, he wouldn't mind if you fed him too because it could turn into both of your ways to feel at ease just the both of you In each others embrace talking and eating,

what better thing is there to do as a couple?

"You'll get through it and I'll make sure of it just eat a little bit , baby."

Jongho:

Might scold you a bit for allowing yourself to feel overwhelmed and not eating he just loves you so much he wouldn't want anything to happen to you

he'll like to talk it over with you while he's making you a meal and will not leave until you take a bite however,

if he's not around he'll leave a spam of texts telling you to eat just a little something, a few strawberries or whatever you like,

he'll tell you that he loves you and that you should never let your worries prevent you from eating a meal or at least trying to eat something that'll last you til you're ready for more.

He's going to do his best to listen to you as long as it takes until you have an appetite and no burdens on your shoulders just like Wooyoung would do. Your mental and physical health matter to him and he wants you to know it.

"I love you and I want you well physically and emotionally by all means necessary."

...

WR:Le ~ I hope you liked it, requests are open still 💚

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thewritewolf · 4 years

Text

Eating Habits Chapter 7: Surprise Visit

Marinette is starving in class, but thankfully Adrien isn’t about to let that slide.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Marinette was feeling stretched thin, between hunger and lack of sleep and heaps of work. It was ironic, then, that she was ignoring all that by spending the class period working on an entirely different piece. Maybe it was because this time she wasn’t toiling away in solitude at her apartment but rather standing in the classroom with a half dozen other students while her professor prowled between them.

It was mid-October, which meant that it was just over halfway through the semester. Things had begun mellowing out as she hit a stride with her various activities and class work. Maybe joining all those clubs wasn’t a good idea after all, but she had promised herself she’d at least stick with it for the rest of the semester. Besides, it was all moving smoothly now... even if it came at the cost of non-vending machine food and extra sleep.

She shook her head to focus back on the long winter coat in front of her. The student’s winter show wasn’t nearly as anticipated or important as the spring show, but it was still a good idea to make a strong first impression. And besides, she wanted to make sure that every piece that had her name attached to it was quality work. ‘Start as you mean to go on’, as her maman loved to say.

Hunger pangs made her freeze midway through her measuring. One hand gripped her desk while the other covered her stomach. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass. When she opened them again, she quickly glanced around to make sure no one had caught that. She’d had enough concerned looks to last her the rest of the semester.

The door opened and she risked a glance up to see what poor student was arriving this late into the period. Her eyes widened she realized it was Adrien, looking around the room with a frown as he stood in the doorway. Their eyes locked and his face immediately brightened.

He was about to call out when her professor quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Is there something I can help you with, young man?”

Adrien held up a plastic bag that had a few tupperware containers inside of it. “So sorry, Madam Professor, but my delightful girlfriend hasn’t had a decent meal in two days and she is determined to worry me sick.” He narrowed his eyes at Marinette, but she could still see the twinkle of mischief in them even from this distance. “I promise I won’t disrupt your class for long.”

There were a few scattered giggles from her classmates and Marinette blushed, mortified at her boyfriend’s arrival. Irritation flared as she belated realized he’d just called her out in front of the whole class.

“Good. We’ve all been a little worried about her,” her professor said with a nod and a faint smile, making Marinette blush spread even further. Had it really been that obvious? While she returned to her desk, she added, “Just don’t get too comfortable. This is work time, not flirt time.”

He flashed her a boyish grin and said, “Don’t worry, I’m excellent at multitasking.”

Marinette crossed her arms and glared at him as he walked towards her. When he caught the way she was looking at him, he rolled his eyes.

“Lovebug, you really have no one to blame but yourself here.” He spoke quietly, mindful of the other students still working in the room.

Her hands shifted to her hips. “You barge into my classes-”

“-and feed you after you starve yourself for at least two days, yes. Unless you are about to admit that you’ve been ignoring the lunches I make for you to take to university?”

Her glare intensified and she took a deep breath to argue, but then another wave of hunger pangs struck. Her stomach growled, likely sensing the food so close as hand. A couple of the students closest to her glanced in her direction, turning her face scarlet again.

She clenched her jaw in defeat and looked up at his eyes, expecting him to be smug. Instead, he was frowning, his eyes regarding her sadly. It sent a spear of hurt through her heart. After a few more moments of silence, she sighed.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“And I think you know that I did have to,” Adrien replied without missing a beat. He set the bag on her desk and walked over to stand next to her. His eyes roamed her coat. “I see this is coming along well. How are you feeling about it?”

She gratefully accepted the change in topic and talked fashion with him for a few minutes. While Adrien had never been huge into fashion, his perspective from the modeling side of things was often indispensable. Not to mention the things he’d absorbed just by being surrounded by high fashion from a very young age.

Still, there was a lot more that she needed to do and her professor was starting to look annoyed.

“Okay, Adrien. Time for you to go,” she said, gently nudging him away.

“Are you sure?” He spoke with the teasing tone of voice that never failed to annoy her to pieces. “Maybe I should stay for a little while longer. Make sure you actually eat the food I made this time, hm?” He smirked at her as she scowled.

“Get out of here, centerfold. I’ve got work to do and you’re being a menace.”

“Oh, alright.” He put a hand on her head as he kissed her temple. “See you soon, lovebug.”

She maintained her scowl even after he left. All the way until her stomach growled again and curiosity overcame her work ethic. She set down her tools and pulled a tupperware container out of the plastic bag. Her scowl melted away the moment she took off the lid and the delicious smell of chicken stirfry hit her nose.

Maybe Adrien had a point, Marinette thought as she nearly fell over thanks to the smell of sauteed veggies and mixed spices. If this was her reaction to an actual meal, perhaps she had been overdoing it on the vending machine crackers. And if her boyfriend was determined to cook for her...well, she couldn't let it go to waste, could she?

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

“Sorry I’m late guys,” Adrien said as he took a seat at the cafe. “I had to make a stop at the university.”

Alya and Chloe took a break from their glaring at each other to glance at him.

“Why does she need to be here, Adrien?” Alya asked. Her eyes narrowed at Chloe. “Hard to see her caring much about us common people.”

“While it is true that you all are very common...” Chloe began.

“Chlo…” Adrien said in a chastising tone.

“...I want my friends to be happy.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” Alya drummed her fingers against the table in an irritated tempo.

“Well, it has been years since I’ve even mocked you and your ridiculous fashion sense.”

“It’s been years since we’ve talked!”

“Hm… you’ve got a point there.” Chloe looked Alya up and down with an appraising eye. “Well, you’ve certainly gotten better with makeup, though I could still give you a few pointers. And your taste in shoes is improving.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Still the vain, egotistic-”

“Thankfully you make up for it in your journalistic skills. Like when you brought that corruption issue to light last month.”

“You… read my articles?” Alya spoke slowly, wary surprise evident in her voice.

“Of course. I started back when…” Chloe glanced at Adrien and coughed lightly. “Well, after you saved Adrien from the angry mob, I figured you might be worth another look.” She sniffed haughtily. “I suppose I got you all wrong from the start. I’m-” Chloe made a face as if she had bite into a lemon. “I’m sorry. There?”

Alya blinked at Chloe while Adrien sat back and watched it all unfold. While he wasn’t certain that things would pan out like this, he knew that Chloe had at least wanted a chance to make things right with the gang. Marinette and Nino had big hearts and were more than willing to forgive, but Alya wasn’t nearly as trusting. A helpful trait for a reporter, less so when it came to stuff like this. But if she was willing to give it a shot…

“Ugh.” Alya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, fine. We’re cool for now, but you’re on thin ice, missy.” Before Chloe could reply, Alya turned to Adrien. “Anyway - you stopping at the university. I take it that was for our main girl, sunshine?” At his hum of approval, Alya nodded. “Good, I’ll feel better knowing she had something to eat today. Girl has been scaring me.”

“Something up with miss goody-goody pigtails?” Chloe said with a sip of her latte.

“Marinette, my beloved girlfriend,” Adrien said pointedly, looking Chloe in the eye, “is working herself into the ground. We’re here to figure out how to stop her from doing that.”

“I think we’re getting through to her. She’s at least not getting worse, ya know?” Alya took a bite out of her croissant. “With how busy we all are, that might be the best we can do until winter break.”

“So… just keep holding steady and hope she starts listening?”

“Definitely. We don’t want her to feel smothered by us, that’ll just make her double down out of… well, I’d say ‘spite’, but I don’t think that girl has a gram of spite in her. Too much raw sugar and strawberry filling.”

Adrien nodded slowly. That made a certain amount of sense.

“Are you two for real?” Chloe raised her eyebrow. “That is the most ridiculous, non-plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“You don’t know Marinette like we do, girl,” Alya said, narrowing her eyes. “Let us handle our friend.”

“Listen, Adrikins,” Chloe said, leaning forward to put her elbow on the table as she gave her full attention to Adrien. “All this padding around the problem isn’t gonna solve it. You both know Marinette - is she the kind of person to stop throwing herself into her work?”

Alya exchanged a look with Adrien.

“Right,” Chloe continued. “Something bigger needs to be done if you want her to start taking care of herself again.”

“Any ideas about this ‘something bigger’, Chlo?” Adrien asked.

Chloe peered over her sunglasses with a raised eyebrow. “Like you two said, you know her so well. I’m sure you can figure something out. Just be firm with her. It’ll snap her out of this trance she’s probably worked herself into.”

With two wildly different pieces of advice to consider, Adrien turned the conversation to different topics. At least he had achieved the impossible of getting Alya and Chloe to act somewhat civilly with each other. If he could accomplish that, then helping Marinette ought to be a piece of cake.

Right?

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrienette #alya cesaire #Chloe Bourgeois #ml fanfiction #my writing #Eating Habits #The Lucky One series

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

Text

@histoireettralala and I have to decided to try our hands at an alternating Caroline Bonaparte/Napoleon AU, centered around the courtship of Caroline and Joachim Murat. We were planning on debuting this a couple days ago on Murat Day, but I write at a glacial pace, so, yeah. >_>;; Anyway, here’s Part One!

***

If only Madame Campan could see me right now, Caroline thinks, gleaming with satisfaction. This is the first time she’s ever been inside an actual bar. Before tonight, she had only ever seen them on TV. Having crossed that threshold for the first time, she finally feels like a real adult, at long last. She takes in the scene--loud rock music fills the room; some people are dancing, others sitting and eating, others lounging at the bar with drinks of all kinds. There are pool tables in the back, all occupied by a large group of young men who seem to be having a party of their own.

She suddenly realizes that Hortense is not beside her. Turning back towards the doorway, she frowns at her friend disapprovingly. Hortense hovers in the doorway, staring inside with wide eyes.

"Well?" Caroline asks. "Are you coming in?"

Hortense looks at her nervously.

"I don't know if this is a good idea, Caroline. Think of what Madame Campan would say!"

"Oh that's exactly what I'm thinking of," Caroline says, laughing. "Just imagine the look on the old buzzard's face if she saw us in this place!"

Hortense pales. "You shouldn't say such terrible things."

Caroline rolls her eyes. Madame Campan has trained her friend well; Hortense is turning into a proper stick in the mud.

"Well at the very least," Hortense pleads, "think how unhappy it will make Napoleon if he finds out we were here."

Ah, there it is. The Napoleon Card. Caroline grits her teeth.

"He's paying good money for you to go to Madame Campan's academy!" Hortense piles on.

That settles it. Caroline is now resolved. "I'm going to celebrate my birthday by getting drunk. With or without you." She proceeds towards the bar.

Moments later, Hortense warily seats herself on the stool beside her. She has, Caroline, thinks, the air of a hen inside a fox den.

"Oh just relax! There's nothing to be worried about."

"But most of these people are drunk!" Hortense whispers loudly.

"Yes, it being a bar, it would make sense that they would be," Caroline says dryly.

The bartender asks their pleasure. Caroline, without missing a beat, orders a strawberry daiquiri (she's never had one, but she's heard of it on TV and it sounds delicious). Hortense requests a glass of cranberry juice. The bartender is visibly amused. The drinks are produced in short order.

Caroline is relishing her first sip when a burst of loud cheering erupts from the group gathered by the pool tables. She glances over. The young men are celebrating something. Mugs are raised in a toast.

"Happy birthday Joachim!"

Caroline is intrigued. One of the young men is celebrating his birthday today too? Which one? All the mugs are raised towards...

Caroline's breath catches.

A handsome young man, tall and muscular, with sky-blue eyes, curly dark hair, and a gleaming smile, is thanking his friends for treating him to such a great time today.

"He's... beautiful."

"Who?" Hortense asks.

Caroline cringes. She hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. But it's too late, Hortense is already following her line of vision.

"Oh no," Hortense says. "Not him." She regards Caroline with visible alarm.

"Yes, him. He's the most gorgeous man I've ever laid eyes on. Why 'not him?'"

"Caroline, that's... Joachim Murat. He's a business associate of Napoleon's. He's got a bit of a... reputation."

"A reputation for what?"

"For, well," Hortense is rapidly reddening, "everything Madame Campan has ever warned us against. Gambling, drinking, and... womanizing. Lots of womanizing."

"Does he now?" So. A man of worldly experience. She studies him with a fascination that is all the more rapt as Hortense elaborates further on his hedonistic lifestyle.

"He's even... flirted with my mom," Hortense continues, with the tone of one discussing a man who has committed unfathomable crimes. "And there are other, even more sordid rumors about them going around, but Napoleon doesn't believe them. Or at least he says he doesn't."

"And what does your mother say about these... rumors?"

Hortense is astonished. "Well, of course she denies them! You know my mother isn't that type of woman."

Caroline takes a sip of her daiquiri to conceal her amusement. She knew nothing of the sort, not if what her other brothers told her was true. Even with Napoleon's obsessive sheltering combined with Madame Campan's near-superhuman efforts, Caroline couldn't be half as naive as her schoolmate. Not when she had Paulette as an older sister.

I'll have to ask Paulette if she knows Joachim, Caroline thinks, unable to tear her gaze from him.

And suddenly his eyes are on her.

Mortified that he's caught her staring at him, she tries to look away, but can't.

His eyes remain fixed on her intently. He smiles slightly as she continues to hold his unwavering gaze. Caroline can feel her heart pounding in her ears. She has never experienced a feeling like this; it is as if she has been ensnared by some bizarre, powerful, wonderful enchantment.

He says something she can't hear to one of his friends, and then--

"--He's coming over!" Hortense exclaims, as distressed as if the bar was a blazing inferno around them. "Oh Caroline, I told you we shouldn't have come here!"

"Oh will you just hush," Caroline snaps.

A moment later he is standing before her, even taller up close than he appeared from across the bar. Broad shoulders and bulging biceps are immaculately framed by a form-fitting, forest-green polo shirt. His eyes--the brightest, warmest blue eyes she has ever seen--have her mesmerized.

"Hello Joachim," Hortense greets the man with the politeness Madame Campan has instilled in her.

"Hi Hortense," he returns the greeting with a charming smile. "I must say, I'm quite surprised to see you in a place like this." He either can’t hide his amusement or doesn’t care to.

Hortense's face is beet red. "I, that is, we, um--"

"We're here to celebrate my birthday," Caroline interjects. "Did I hear correctly that it's your birthday too?

"It is! And how delightful to share my birthday with such a pretty girl. Happy birthday!"

"To you as well!"

"And may I ask your name?"

"Caroline. Caroline Bonaparte."

The blue eyes widen in surprise. "Bonaparte? You're one of Napoleon's little sisters?"

"His youngest, yes."

"Well, this truly is a pleasure. Hortense might've already told you, but I'm Joachim. Your brother and I... collaborate from time to time, on various projects."

"She might've mentioned it," she glances at Hortense with a wink. Hortense's blush only deepens further.

"Would you like to dance?"

Caroline blinks. Why, yes. Yes she would.

She passes the next--half hour? hour?--with Joachim as if in a daze. They have an instant chemistry on the dance floor, and he is surprisingly graceful and agile for a man of his size. By the third dance she feels enough at ease with him already to let things get a little more physical; soon he is twirling her around the floor; she stumbles at one point, only to be caught by a pair of strong arms. The blue eyes twinkle. Are you okay? Perfectly fine, she assures him. He doesn't let go of her until he is certain she is steady again.

After dancing, they talk over a drink. She talks about her family and Madame Campan's school. He talks about growing up in the country and working with the horses in his father's stable and the time he recently spent in Egypt with Napoleon on one of his biggest business ventures to date. He tells her about the pyramids and the Sphinx and all the other fascinating monuments and ancient ruins. He even got to ride camels! She is captivated.

Hortense finally works up the nerve to intervene. She doesn't mean to interrupt them but hasn't Caroline noticed what time it is? We really need to leave. Like, now.

Caroline turns to Joachim apologetically. If it were her choice, she'd stay, but...

He understands. He's had a lovely evening with her; it was the highlight of his birthday.

"Mine too," she assures him. "Will I see you again?"

"Do you want to?" His curvy lips twitch slightly; the blue eyes twinkle once more.

"Very much so," her voice is barely above a whisper.

His lips part into a broad smile. "Good. I'm sure we'll find a way to meet again soon. Goodnight, Caroline."

"Goodnight, Joachim."

She steps out into the cool night with Hortense. They haven't even been walking for a full minute when her phone vibrates. Probably one of her big brothers sending her a frantic WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU AT THIS HOUR message. She takes a deep breath before glancing at the screen.

She has received a Facebook friend request from Joachim Murat.

Without hesitation, she opens the app and accepts the request. I'm going to need a lot of coffee for class tomorrow, she realizes. Because she fully intends to spend the rest of the night looking through the photo albums of this gorgeous young man whose birthday she shares.

#Caroline AU #@histoireettralala

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sidlottedream · 4 years

Text

Wish Upon A Star/part 4

Fanfiction

Sanditon alternative universe Fanfiction

Christmas story

Sidney x Charlotte

Esther x Babington

🎄

a/n:thanks for reading 😀💕

****

Everyone looked stunned as Esther walked over to Babington, who was talking to Sidney and cupping his face kissed him, followed by, “I will marry you”. She didn't much care about being the center of the attention at that moment, and neither did he.

“You want to marry me? Really?” Babington gulped not believing he heard right.

“Yes, I do, dummy.” Esther smiled, her eyes glittering with love.

And upon these words Babington now pulled her into a searing kiss.

Georgiana looked at Charlotte with the biggest grin on her face. There was definitely some magic going on. And she was not wrong. Snapping out of their momentary astonishment, the trio cheered, clapping a little, congratulating those two.

“We need champagne!” Georgiana said, adding, “Lucky I got some.” As the

The doorbell rang and Charlotte scampered to open it, greeting Arthur, Diana and Stringer.

"You haven't decorated the tree yet?!" Diana remarked immediataly seeing the bare tree.

"We waited for you" Georgiana said sarcastically now helping Arthur with the drinks he had brought.

"Why are those two kissing?! What have I missed?" Arthur now referred to Babington and Esther, who were still in the world of our own.

"They made up, obviously! And they are getting married." Sidney updated him as he took the plates from Charlotte who came out from the kitchen, and took them over to the table.

"We don't really have Champagne glasses"- Georgiana opened the cupboard passing on wine glasses to Charlotte.

"I thought so- here" Arthur took out a package with glasses from another bag he brought-" got some from the bar!"

Georgiana was now helping him pour the glasses adding some strawberry juice to make a cocktail.

"There you go, you guys!" Arthur started passing the drinks around.

They all stopped for a second to toast-

"To Love!" Diana said looking at Stringer and then at Sidney and Charlotte as if trying to convey something additionally.

"Yes, to Love!" Esther said taking a sip and then placing a peck on Babingron's lips.

Of course, Arthur looked at Georgiana, who was taken aback for a second, but disregarded it as something insignificant.

Sidney sneaked a look at Charlotte catching her eye as she glanced at him shyly. She put her glass away announcing that soon the Christmas Eve Confetti pasta would be served.

Arthur, Georgiana, Stringer and Diana were now busy decorating the tree. Sidney went with Charlotte to the kitchen.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Ahm -yeah, these appetizers- can you take them out? Thanks."

"You managed all this?" Sidney was amazed at how efficiant she was.

"Not really- we bought stuff and I just assembled it. Anyway- pasta- not really much, ha? I just thought of doing something quick and easy? It doesn't really look so great."

"Hey- the food is not why we are here- oh, don't get me wrong- this all looks delicious" Sidney curled up a smile, biting a gulp back.

And then there they were. A look. Butterflies in the stomach rising- and then Georgiana's voice crashing the spell as a thunder when she got in the kitchen asking for something completely irrelevant. Seeing their sheepish faces, she was immediately beating herself for having broken up a very important moment. Sidney took a small breath and pickrd up the trays with food, carrying them out. Charlotte followed right behind, giving her friend a did-you-have-to-get-in-the-kitchen-now look.

"Sorry-" Georgiana said in a half tone.

"It's ok" Charlotte huffed away silently.

Inside, she was burning with the desire to tell him how she felt and yet something still was holding her back.

"Are you ok?" Sidney asked as Charlotte looked at him somewhat distracted.

"Yes, why?"

"Nothing. It was as if you wanted something - nothing."

Charlotte shook her head and turned away, praising the decoration. Everyone now stood around the tree and waited for Georgiana, who was unanimously chosen to turn the lights on.

"I just want to say something" Diana started as Arthur topped up her glass of champagne. She turned to Georgiana asking to hold on for a little speech.

“Yeah, go on” Georgiana said gesturing to her to continue.

"Ok- right” the youngest Parker sibling drew a small breath, “This has been a crazy year- for all of us. I have my brothers, who are the best brothers in the world and - I always want the best for them, so I can get a little bit overprotective and- I want to say that I love you. Tom, too. Though he is not here present. He and Mary had other plans. Ok. Never mind that. I also never really had such good girl-friends- and - I am thankful for your friendship. Also ", she now looked at Stringer, "My wish really came true!" Stringer smiled back at her. And they seemed to be gone in a moment to both flashing back to a couple of hours ago as they got out of the café.

Flashback

"This was nice" Diana said, "thanks- ahm, I am going over to Charlotte's, I guess, you're invited, too?!"

"I am." Stringer replied, "ahm -Diana, before we go there-", the man paused taking his hand out of his trouser pockets and looked at the woman lovingly, "I was this guy with no feelings and no attachments- burnt too many times- but with you " He just moved over and grabbed her by the waist and placed a kiss on her lips.

"Merry Christmas!!!" Georgiana now said and finally pressed the lights on the tree.

"Merry Christmas!!!!", everyone shouted nearly in one voice-

And then Arthur shouted out, "Let's eat!!!"

They all moved to the table, that was just big enough to fit everyone around. For the Parkers, this was the best Christmas Eve ever! Since they were children everything was done beforehand, designer trees, celebrity Chef's dinner, presents were bought by their father’s PA. And when they grew up, they stayed out for Christmas Eve, which their father accepted, as long as they were there the next day for the family Christmas Day dinner. It always felt very rigid and cold. And this was all so different for them and they had the time of their lives, joking, chatting away, teasing and even bickering openly. And as Sidney said earlier, they were there because with the three of them, plus Stringer, it was fun and lively, and it was clear that their hearts would be pulled to so much more than just friendship.

All the way through dinner Sidney could not keep his eyes away from Charlotte, who had thrown several starry eyes at him as well.

"Hello, Charlotte!" a voice that came from nowhere made the bubbly look away for a second, "they can't see us- well, not for a moment. I froze them for a second-well"

"What? Eww-OMG - you are the one from my dreams" Charlotte looked at the women who looked exactly like her, but with extreme curles and with blue veins popping out around her eyes and fangs sticking out of her mouth. The woman pulled her fangs back in.

"I am real. You may not think so- but ahm- yeah- in another life- me - I was a vampire. But first I was a princess. Believe it or not. How I became a vampire. Well, that’s a long story.”

"What are you talking about?! What is this?!" Charlotte said looking at the woman.

"This Christmas Eve is not like any other. This is a pretty unique one. There's a supermoon out there if you hadn't noticed."

"So?" Charlotte said, looking at the apparition quizzically.

"This is the night when wishes actually come true."

"Really?" Charlotte said partly in disbelief.

"Really. But if you pull out of what your heart tells you, because you are kind of scared. I will have him in no time."

"I am not scared. I just think we are better as friends." Charlotte said.

"How about all those butterflies that jump in your stomach when he speaks to you, when he is near you, when he looks at you?"

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" Charlotte then asked.

"I told you. I am-was a vampire. Why am I doing this? Well, if I do one good thing- I get to go somewhere where I would get wings and cease being a selfish vampire."

Charlotte looked at her gone out.

"Right. I see that I have to show you what will happen if you now say to him that you don't really want to go out with him to the play tonight- I've watched you way too long doing this dance- and the whole we-are-friends-routine!"

The vampire now took Charlotte by the hand and they went out of the apartment and stepped into a church.

Charlotte saw Sidney standing at the altar holding hands with a woman with long blonde hair. As the woman turned she saw it was Eliza Campion.

"Huh" Charlotte exclaimed.

"Yeah!" the vampire said, "So, I suggest you get that dress out you bought last month. The crimsone one, it is Christmas after all- and - well, I really hate this- but- leave the dishes to me-"

"All right!" Charlotte said.

"Go now. Hurry!!" the vampire said.

As by magic, or whatever you will, Charlotte put the dress the vampire suggested and went to the play after they had their little feast. A few hours later she and Sidney were walking back discussing how they liked this take on Dickens' A Christmas Carol.

"I love it. It is one of the great stories" Charlotte said and flinched a little bit as it was obviously very cold and she had the beautiful, but thin cocktail dress underneath her coat.

"I'm fine" the petite brunette reassured her date as he saw her shake a bit.

"Oh, you're not-" Sidney now hailed a cab that appeared out of nowhere and they got in. As he gave the cab driver the directions, Charlotte took her gloves off and rubbed her hands, that were nearly blue from the cold.

"Here-" Sidney now took her hands in his- and immediatelly she felt his warm hands give hers life again.

"Thanks" Charlotte slipped still keeping her hands in his.

"You're- welcome" he slipped back. Then both them glanced at their hands not wanting to part from one another, and then their eyes locked saying finally the one thing their hearts already knew for a long while. They smiled a little and then neared one another into a long awaited kiss that burst like fireworks.

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