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gavin-plz-call-me · 3 years

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i saw you did an nsfw alphabet for wannabe challenge so i was wondering if you could do one for tears of themis? i'd love to see one for artem

Hell yeah, alphabets are the only nsfw stuff I'm good at writing

AO3

Artem NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

-Stills inside/beside you for a moment while you both catch your breath, then he’s combing through your hair, peppering your body with loving kisses.

-Has wet wipes/tissues to help clean you up at arm's length, so if let’s be honest, when you whine about not wanting to leave his side just yet, he can help you clean up.

-If you’re still clingy after a while, this man will carry you to the bathroom to get the rest of the way cleaned up.

-If you find yourself in a more dominant role in the bedroom sub Artem? It’s more likely than you think be prepared to pepper that man with so much love and care.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite body part of himself is his eyes. They’re a nice color, but I don’t think he thinks about his appearance too much.

-As for you, would it be cliche to say your brain?

-While your beauty was what attracted him first, your mind is what really sealed the deal.

-Your mouth is a close second, because it helps you voice your thoughts in that beautiful voice of yours and, I mean, if you wanted to give him a blow job too he wouldn’t be complaining…

-Is an ass man.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

-Is hesitant on deciding where to cum.

-He thinks cumming anywhere in/on you would not be a very pleasant experience for you.

-But in the heat of the moment, he’ll probably end up cumming inside you if he’s wearing protection, or on your thighs/ass if he’s not.

-When he cums, whether it be in you or on you, he’s grabbing you a tissue when he comes down from his high to clean you up.

-If you swallow his cum he’ll be a little disgusted, but a lot turned on.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Has masturbated in his office after you’ve left on multiple occasions.

-Sometimes the perfume you were wearing was extra enticing, sometimes what you were wearing made you look extra hot, and sometimes your presence alone is enough to get him hot and excited.

-Is mostly ashamed about the times he did it before you two were dating because it felt like an intrusion of your privacy.

-Once Celestine came to his office right after he finished and he was so mortified that she’d somehow be able to tell that he did something. She knew something was up because of how much he was blushing, but she didn’t know what exactly

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

-Big old virgin

-I’m not even saying that to be mean plus being a virgin isn’t bad it’s just true.

-Sure, his lack of experience may be a bit of a hindrance at first, but he’s a clean slate.

-He’s not gonna be doing some weird thing with your clit because a girl he was with before liked that.

-Train him to perfectly pleasure you, and, trust me, he’s a fast learner.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

-Your first few times together he only did missionary, because, while he knew there were other options, he didn’t know how to initiate them.

-As he got more experience, however, he grew to absolutely love doggy style.

-Loves your ass, so it’s an obvious choice. Plus, if he’s extra flustered, he can easily hide it.

-Grips your ass extra hard while kissing your neck and back. If he’s feeling extra brave, expect a few whispers about how good you feel.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

-He has his goofy moments, but most of the time he’s 100% serious.

-Whether it be because he’s concentrating on learning how to pleasure you correctly, or, when he’s gained a bit of experience, just concentrating on both of your pleasure.

-I feel like as you guys get closer, however, an awkward moment may turn into a brief bout of giggles shared between the two of you before continuing.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

-Shaved himself completely when you two started dating.

-Was convinced you’d be disgusted by any hair down there. My poor insecure baby

-When he gets more comfortable around you, he’ll let it grow out, but he still trims it to keep it neat.

-Carpets match the drapes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

-Is a whore for a sexy, romantic atmosphere.

-I’m talking rose petals, candles, and a couple of glasses of non-alcoholic wine.

-Wanna have the most romantic love-making session imaginable? Set all of that up for him instead of the other way around.

-He’ll be so in love with you at that moment he’ll have no choice but to give you the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

-Before meeting you, he jacked off maybe once or twice a week, and it was more of something he had to do than something he wanted to do.

-When he met you, he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever seen, so his sex drive and, naturally, his masturbation sessions increased.

-Increased to every other day, maybe every day. He tried to not think of you during these times as he felt it was an invasion of privacy emphasis on tried.

-After finally getting together with you, his sessions have decreased back down to once or twice a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

-Likes having sex in his office, but that’s the most public space he’ll do it in.

-Also loves it when you’re slightly dominant on him.

-Doesn’t want to do any of the more kinky stuff, tying him or you, depending on his mood with a tie is about as far as he’ll go.

-But just take charge, he loves it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

-Can’t go wrong with the good old fucking in bed. It’s easy, comfortable, and you guys can take as long as you want.

-Get him riled up at work by wearing something that beautifully shows of your ass, or make sure he knows you’re wearing that pair of panties you know he loves or, fuck it, no panties at all he’ll polietly ask you into his office so he can fuck your brains out.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

-Loves when you assert yourself, especially at work.

-Get all confident during a trial because you know you’re going to win? That’s all the motivation he needs.

-Does not help his productivity at all, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Expect to fuck after a trial, extra hard if you won.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-No threesomes/group sex.

-It’s not even because he’ll get jealous okay maybe a bit of that but you were his first and only. Everything he’s learned about sex has been about specifically pleasuring you, he wouldn’t know where to begin when having sex with other people.

-He’s more than content with you being his one and only.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

-Not skilled at the beginning like all things sexual, but he’s a fast learner.

-Good communication is key here, as it is in all aspects of sex with Artem. Guide him to where you want to be pleasured, praise him when you really like what he’s doing, and give him some delicious moans and he’ll be a pro at fucking you with his tounge alone in no time.

-Is too shy to ask for you to go down on him, and will insist you don’t have to when you try to initiate it.

-Ignore him and do it, the noises you draw from him are absolutely worth it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

-Starts off at a weird middle ground sort of pace, not fast and not slow.

-Is fond of slow and sensual when he grows more experienced, but will occasionally get rough with you.

-That usually happens when he gets a bit too jealous of a guy who got a bit too close to you for your liking.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

- doesn’t really have a choice in the matter at the beginning, mr. 30 seconds (sorry Artem)

-For real, he prefers longer love-making sessions, but if you’re teasing him in the office a quickie will ensue.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

-Grows more confident the more the two of you have sex.

-He does like fucking in his office, so he likes a bit of risk, but there being too many people in the office, or the chance of Celestine walking in at anytime, Artem would much rather feign working on a case and take you home.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

-At first, like most virgin boys, his stamina is basically nonexistent.

-Let him take his time, he’ll get to fucking you until the sun rises in no time at all.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

-Has never thought about getting one for himself when his hand does the job well enough.

-Is very open to using toys on you in the bedroom, especially when he’s feeling insecure about his ability to please you which happens often, scream his name and make him forget those insecurities.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Not a teaser in the slightest.

-You want something specific in the bedroom? He’s already doing it, you barely have to ask.

-On the flip side, sort of loves it when you’re unfair to him.

-Just barely touch him and stop at the brink of his orgasm, he gets a sick sort of pleasure from that.

-It also helps him gain more control over himself in the bedroom, so it’s a win-win.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

-May try to stay quiet, after all, in all the porn he’s watched which isn’t a lot because I feel like watching it makes him feel uncomfortable the man is always basically silent.

-That does not work out for him, though. He gets so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can’t control what his vocal cords are doing.

-Gains a bit more control over it over time, but he realizes you like his moans, so he stops trying to keep them at bay.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

-Is a total switch.

-Can be pretty dominant at some times see his atmospheric card

-But I can totally see him wanting you to dom him sometimes. Loves seeing you dominate the court, if you bring that energy to bed, oh boy is he like putty in your hands.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

-He’s of average girth and slightly above average length. Has a nice, thick vein that runs the length of his penis.

-Uncut.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

-Has a very active imagination how else would he become such a great lawyer?

-And while that helps him out in his work, anything about you can really set him off.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-Is out like a light

-Especially the first few times, his body doesn’t know what hit him.

-But even after a while, he works so hard that the moment he has the chance to fall asleep, his body is taking that chance.

-Make sures to stay up long enough to get cleaned off and help you clean yourself up.

#Tears of themis #tears of themis artem #artem wing #tears of themis headcanon #tears of themis headcanons #tears of themis fic #tears of themis fanfic #nsft #tears of themis nsft

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starpollen1998 · 3 years

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Uber Allergic: A Romance - part 1 / ?

I don’t know what it is with me and cars lately. Maybe because I haven’t driven one in nearly 4 years, or maybe because I had a plot bunny about a hired driver and then couldn’t decide which direction to take it. So, naturally, I wrote 2 stories. A warning: I have never taken an Uber. I have used a similar company in the country where I live, so I imagined it would be the same. Apologies for any mistakes. Hope you enjoy!

The Ride - Part 1

When I saw him standing on the curb waiting, I couldn’t help but blink. And then swallow hard. The man was stunning: tall, broad-shouldered, long-limbed, with a perfect jawline and dazzling smile. His hair was that rare coiff that crested like waves from his head, barely brushing his ears, thick and tawny like a lion. When he dropped into the back seat, I saw his eyes were a stunning shade of blue.

I’ve had attractive men in my car before, sure. But none quite as mind-blowing as this one.

“Heya, darlin’,” he quipped, firing off a devastating wink at me through the rear view mirror.

“Hi,” I replied, barely able to get that single syllable past the lump in my throat. I prayed I could focus on the road in front of me and not the Greek-god-incarnate in the back seat. He was headed across town, a trip that would take us roughly 40 minutes.

We rode in silence for almost a full minute, him tapping away on his cell phone while I gritted my teeth and forced my gaze at the horizon. Occasionally I glanced at the GPS, checking that we were on track.

Then…

“heHH?...”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes darted up to the rear view mirror.

I watched as Greek-god pinched his nostrils shut, rubbing in hard, tight circles, finishing with a small shake of his head, blue eyes blinking furiously. Was it my imagination, or did those eyes seem to be getting red?

I kept driving.

Not even a minute later…

“heh-heHH?...”

Once more, my eyes snapped like magnets to the rear view mirror. My passenger was frozen in classic pre-sneeze expression: eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, lower lip trembling… nostrils flared, the tip of his prominent nose visibly twitching. His elegant head turned left, then right, and then…

“heght--SHHzzztT!!”

He sneezed - snapping into his elbow at the last second.

“B-... Bless you,” I stammered, sure I was blushing red as a tomato.

But Greek god wasn’t done.

He raised his head, eyes still shut, shoulders bouncing with stuttering hitches. My eyes were darting between the road ahead and the rear view mirror, terrified that I was either going to rear-end someone … or miss one second of the spectacle in the back seat.

Then - a red light.

Thank you! I screamed in my mind to whatever higher power was listening.

When I came back to the rear view mirror, his right hand was raised, hovering loosely cupped, nostrils stretching into little round O’s, his upper lip curled back from gleaming white teeth…

“hegt--SCHgtT!!” he snapped down, visibly misting the hand. This time he stayed down, and I could almost see his abs rippling beneath his button-up shirt. “eegh--SCHHtT… aAH-SCHTch-u!!”

“Bless you,” I barely breathed, glad that this particular red light seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual.

His voice - husky and a little congested - floated up from behind the hand still cupped to his nose.

“... snfll… thanks, darlin’. … sdrfl…. Don’t suppose you h-have… sdrffl… any tissues?”

Fumbling, I opened the glove box and pulled out the stack of drive-through napkins I kept stashed away for emergencies. Usually spilled coffee. Twisting in my seat, I set the stack on his left knee, fingertips brushing the hard muscles of his thigh.

Peering through the tawny strands of hair that had been knocked loose by the fit, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “Thanks.”

An impatient honk made me jump. Heart pounding, I whipped back around to face the road and eased us forward through the intersection. His soft chuckle made my ears burn, sure that I was blushing fire-engine red by now.

I heard soft blowing, more wet sniffles, and managed to catch in the mirror when he stretched two KFC napkins between both hands and muffled a wet double: “t’SCHmp--g’SCHHm!”

“Bless you,” I managed, happy when my voice sounded even and calm, even though my hands were gripping the steering wheel hard.

“Darlin’ you don’t… hH!--... have to say that every time… snffl---hHehH!--... l-looks like I m- muhH!-HGK’tSCHHt!... excuse me. I might be at this a while...” Taking another napkin from the dwindling stack, he pinched it around his nose and rubbed again in small, fast circles, brows drawing together in concentration.

Grateful for another red light, I stared into the mirror. My passenger had a fist full of crumpled napkins in one hand, the other pinching and rubbing desperately at increasingly pinkening nostrils.

“Does… this happen often?”

Another husky chuckle, which deteriorated into more hitching breaths and another itchy-sounding sneeze. “hgz’CHHT! … Depends,” he breathed, bringing the knot of used tissues up to dab at his watering eyes. “Do you have a c-... hHihh!... a cat?”

The Ride - Part 2

My mouth dropped open, eyes wide. He saw my expression in the mirror and gave another chuckle. Swiping a knuckle under his nose, he flashed me a wry grin. “Well, that explains it.”

“I’m sorry,” I looked back at him, stricken.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he gave a dismissive shake of his lion’s head. “You couldn’t know. heh-GSCHhtu!... And it’s not like there’s a box to tick in the app, or anything. ...snfl… ‘Driver has pets.’ ...sdrfl … A lot of people do. Have pets.”

“I know,” I replied softly, turning the wheel smoothly as we rounded a corner. “But I can still be sorry that you’re… you know…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I couldn’t even glance in the mirror.

But I heard the smile in his voice when he said, “It’s fine. Really. It h--hH! hg’zCHHt!-heh’GZShht!... excuse me. It happens a lot, actually. snfl.”

That did make me glance at the mirror, brows raised in surprise… and interest. “Really?”

Greek god had placed the growing pile of used napkins in the seat beside him, frowning down at both his watch and the small stack of napkins still on his leg. The tip of his nose was flushing a tell-tale pink, blue eyes definitely red-rimmed. He blinked rapidly and sniffled constantly, dabbing at his eyes or wiping at his nose, overall looking the very picture of ‘itchy’ and ‘allergic.’

“Yeah,” he replied, breath spiraling in preparation for another sneeze… but it left him last-minute, causing him to give a frustrated cough. “I’m allergic to most animals, but you might say I’m… uber allergic to cats.” Those stunning blue eyes twinkled at me in the mirror, followed by a mischievous wink.

“Why risk taking an Uber, then?”

“Well, as cliché as it sounds... my car is in the shop.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, snffll, I got a… hH!--... a recall letter. Better safe tha-… heh-GSCHt--ahh-GSCHu!... ugh. Apologies.”

We chatted a little more during the ride, about his job as an IT consultant and my 3 jobs: kindergarten teacher, waitress at Olive Garden, and Uber driver. By the time we reached his destination I had counted no less than 56 sneezes, nearly always he followed up with ‘excuse me,’ or some other polite apologetic. He had used my entire stash of emergency napkins, and his handsome face was a bleary, blotchy wreck: nose red, eyes puffy, voice croaky and thick with congestion.

“I’m sorry, again,” I said when we stopped at the curb in front of his building.

“Add - agaid - you dod’t have adythig to be sorry for,” he rasped, palming the pile of used tissues and reaching for a few that had fallen to the floor.

“Oh, I can do that,” I got out in a rush. “You don’t have to--”

“Oh, doh,” he chuckled, voice breaking on the second word like a prepubescent. “I cad take by owd dirty tissues, darlid’.” Glancing up, he gave me a soft smile. “You’ve beed padiedt edough about all this.” Maybe I imagined it, but it looked like he blushed just a little.

“Well it’s my fault,” I insisted.

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead turned and gave a tired-sounding sneeze into his elbow. “H’eISCHt!... gkm, pardod.”

“Bless you,” I murmured.

“You dow, sdrfl, I usually dod’t like it whed people say that…”

“I’m sor--”

“But sobehow whed you do,” he glanced back, swiping a knuckle under his nose and giving that same, soft smile. “I dod’t mide.”

He exited, leaving me staring after him with a mixture of warmth and confusion. Definitely one of the most… unusual... rides I’d ever had.

Throwing the lever into park, I got out to do my usual check of the interior in case the passenger had left something behind. A flash of white tucked by the seatbelt latch caught my eye. Thinking Greek god must have missed one of the used napkin wads, I reached for it.

And pulled out a business card.

“C. B. Decker - Sunfire Technology”

I turned it over.

“Thanks for the ride... Have dinner with me sometime?”

I pulled my head out of the car, staring over my shoulder at his building. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like someone was standing just inside the glazed doors, watching. Turning back to the card in my hand, I bit my lip. It was a violation of my Uber contract if I said yes.

But.

That guy...

Aw, hell. I could get by without the income. Probably.

Maybe.

I looked back at the building, and was now sure I could make out his tall silhouette, tawny mane just a bit disheveled. The figure suddenly bent forward, and I knew.

I kept my eyes on the building as I made a show of putting the card into my pocket. It wasn’t a no. But it wasn’t a yes.

Not yet.

As I drove home for the night, my imagination spun out as I deliberated whether or not to accept. One, he knew I had a cat, was apparently ‘uber’ allergic... and wanted to see me again, anyway. Two, I had been getting tired of driving 30 hours a week, and maybe I could arrange to suspend my contract. Or I could quit, and then get rehired if things didn’t work out… or, if they did...

I crawled into bed, reaching up to stroke Sheba where she always slept on the second pillow. She made a little mew, flipping her head upside down and curling tighter into a furry ball.

As I drifted off to sleep, his delicious sneezes echoed in my dreams…

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tsukkisbean · 4 years

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haikyuu nsfw alphabet series | tendō satori

please block #claras steamys if you don’t want to see this type of content!!

warnings: sexual themes, mentions of (unprotected) sex, voyuerism, bondage, edging, fem!reader

a/n: based on post time skip!! okay i don’t talk a lot about tendō so it was super fun to analyze him and bring my headcanons to life bc he’s definitely a hard hard dom!! this is also unedited pls excuse any unfinished sentences or mistakes

return to nsfw alphabet series masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

i think tendō would be surprisingly big on aftercare. given how he acts in the bedroom (detailed later) he makes sure that you are well taken care of after a long session together. like he’ll grab some water and a towel and help you get cleaned up and comfortable. maybe in the morning he’ll have a super simple breakfast ready like a toast and coffee or tea or maybe even some chocolate depending on the time of day

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his favourite body part of his is 100000% his fingers. his hands are large, fingers long and skinny and he absolutely loves the way they look shoved down into your pretty mouth, around your throat, or fingering your wet cunt.

he absolutely loves your mouth (detailed more below!!)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

so based on the above tendō loves when you’re sitting on your knees, waiting for him to cum in your mouth. there’s just something about the way you look with his cum painted all over your tongue. and it drives him especially crazy when you lick your lips to clean up the drops that are spilling down the corner of your mouth because you don’t want to waste a single drop

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

honestly? i don’t think he has any, mainly because he’s not afraid to be open with you. he strikes me as the type with absolutely no filter and so he’s going to tell you everything and anything on his mind whether it’s a random dirty thought or something new that he wants to try with you

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i’m a little on the fence about this mainly because tendō has a personality that people need time to get used to and understand. so that being said, i don’t think he has a lot of experience, BUT he knows what he’s doing (from watching a lot of porn probably)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

you’re on your back, legs spread out wide, his hands wrapped around your ankles, holding your legs in the air while he fucks you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

not goofy, but i wanna say he’s more playful. he likes to talk dirty, and say things he knows will make you embarrassed. loves the expression when you’re lost for words but also clearly turned on!!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

not groomed whatsoever like i cannot see him giving a crap about what he looks like down there

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

honestly i think he gets so into the whole sex aspect that he completely forgets about being romantic for the most part. he’ll do things like praise you, and maybe a kiss or two here or there but most of it will just be him focusing on fucking you and help you reach your high

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he knows that you know and you know that he knows, yet you don’t move from your spot hiding spot. you didn’t intend for this to happen; all you wanted was to surprise tendō by finally coming home early for once. you peer through the crack in the door, reveling at the way your boyfriend looked with his eyes shut, head thrown back, and those beautiful fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. it feels weird to be spying on your boyfriend, someone you were regularly intimate with, yet you can’t seem to tear your eyes away. you don’t realize, but your mouth hangs open, drool dribbling down your chin.

the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the silence in the air, “are you going to just sit there like a dirty slut and me jack off or are you going to come suck my dick?”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

tendō enjoyed seeing the look of defeat on his opponents faces when he played volleyball and i think that translates into the bedroom. he’s the type that loves to see his partner struggle (i would say he’s pretty much a sadist) and so i can think of A LOT of things he’d be into but i’m going to just keep it to top 3.

1. bondage: loves to tie you up, your hands completely bound, eyes covered with a blindfold so you can’t move in any way. the power he feels just seeing you struggle, the way your face contorts in frustration because your arms are bound and your vision is temporarily taken away is immense

2. exhibitionism: absolutely LOVES the thrill of the two you possibly getting caught will having sex; the expression of the unsuspecting person.he gets especially excited at the way you clench around him because you’re nervous someone will spot you even though you’re okay with the exhibitionism

3. edging: favourite way to do this is first by eating you out. as soon as he feels your thighs about to quiver, he’ll pull away. next, he’ll pump his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt, fingers curling every so often. when he he feels you clench around his fingers, he’ll stop again. to top it off, he’ll fuck into you, slamming his hips against yours but at a painstakingly slow pace. loves the way you beg and cry for him to let you cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

the balcony of your apartment!! checks off all his boxes. it’s accessible and there’s the possibility of getting caught

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

dirty talk!!! if you want to get him all riled, tell him all the things you want him to do. better yet, tell him all the things you want to do him and you guys will be in the bedroom in no time

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i can’t think of a single thing. i think tendō is one of the most open to experimenting when it comes to sex and he won’t really know he doesn’t like it until he actually tries it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

this might come as a surprise to some, but i think he prefers to oral. the man is skilled with his tongue. he loves the way you squirm in his grasp, needy for more, but refuses to give it to you just because it’s fun to him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

fast and rough; he likes to build up the momentum and right when you’re about to cum he’ll stop. continues that pattern until you’re reduced to a blabbering mess

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not a fan because he prefers to draw out each time with you as long as he can. will only do it if he’s super desperate and he knows you guys can’t wait for the right moment

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

this man is down to do everything and anything that you want. he probably has a long list of things he wants to try with you and it grow every single day.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

can accomplish anything he puts his mind to so i would say his stamina is pretty high. he could probably go for at least 3 rounds, each lasting around 30-45 minutes (including foreplay)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

lots of different toys for the both of you to use on each other!!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

given his kinks tendō is the biggest tease but he’s not cruel; over time he’s learned your limits and will push you just until you’re a quivering, crying mess because he knows you can take it

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not super loud, but he’s extremely vocal in the sense that he likes whispering dirty things and praises in your ear (with the occasional grunt or moan in-between) cause he knows it makes your skin crawl.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

at a time when the entire city should be asleep, there you stand on the balcony of your shared apartment with your boyfriend. one hand grasps the railing in front of you, the other presses firmly against your mouth. the feeling of your boyfriend’s lips merely ghosting against the nape of your neck is enough to send electric currents up your spine, “kitten, why are you so shy today?”

in one swift movement, both your arms are pinned against your back, your chest meeting the frosty glass of the balcony. his thrusts are long and deep, and with each one it becomes harder and harder to hold back your pathetic cries.

at a time when the entire city should be asleep, there you stand with your boyfriend for anyone to watch as they please.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

longer than average, average girth and a slight curve to the right

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

h i g h. mainly cause he randomly thinks of something new that he wants to try with you and can’t calm down until it happens

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

honestly he probably falls asleep while cuddling you almost instantly after you guys are done

#haikyuu smut #hq thirst #tendou smut #tendou x reader #tendou satori #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #clara click clacks #claras steamys

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mermaidxatxheart · 4 years

Text

Stockings Over the Fireplace

This is my last submission for @panicfob‘s #25DaysofChristmas

Prompt: Stockings over the fireplace

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Bucky has to leave on a mission in the middle of decoration shopping with you. He doesn’t make it home until Christmas Eve, but you have an even better present for him.

“Oh! I love this.” You gasp, rushing over to the shelf. It’s an old decoration, big and heavy. It depicts multiple Christmas carolers standing in the crisp white snow under an old fashioned gas lamp. “Are you sure?” Bucky picks it up and it’s heavy, even for him. “It’s kind of old.” He starts and you look at him with those damn eyes and tempting smirk. “I like old things. My mom has one like this.” Your fingers curl into his jacket and he knows he’s screwed.

“Yeah, alright.” He sighs and you grin, kissing him sweetly. “How come I can never say no to you?” He frowns, resting his chin on your shoulder, and his arms around your waist. “Because I’m cute? And you love me too much.” You reply, reverently picking up the decoration and setting it in the cart. Your hands drift back to a small decoration, a musical round base with figures ice skating on top. You twist the knob underneath and pull the stopper out. The song starts to play and the little people move across the surface, twisting and spinning. You lean back into his arms with a contented sigh. “There’s no such thing as loving you too much, baby.” He whispers, placing the music box in the cart. But you’re right, you’re cute and he adores the way your face lights up when he gives in to you. You twist in his arms, resting your head on his chest. “Is it super lame that I’m really excited for our first Christmas together?” You ask, twisting your foot nervously. “Well, if it is, we can be lame together.” He smiles. “Oh, thank god.” You sigh. “We need stockings for the fireplace.” You say, twisting your face into his coat and inhaling deep. “For just the two of us? Isn’t that a little silly?” He asks. “No, Steve and Sam and Tony and the others are coming over. Except for Clint. He’s gonna be with his family. And Nat is going over there for dinner, but she’s coming over to our place in the morning.” You say, your face breaking into a wide smile, hand wandering to his butt. “Our place.” “Whoa.” He jumps at the playful squeeze. “Alright. We can get them stockings.” He agrees, grabbing your wrist. “Yay!” You squeal, pulling away and pushing the cart. His phone rings in his pocket and he sees you freeze, looking over at him, your beautiful smile fading. He digs his phone out and internally groans at Steve’s picture. “Hey, Steve.” He answers and you huff in annoyance. “Hey, man. I know I promised you the weekend, but there’s a complication in Norway.” His best friend says and he wants to slap him. “How long?” He asks, keeping his eye trained on your back. Your shoulders are visibly tense and he can only pray that it’s a short trip this time. “Undetermined. Wheels up in 30. Maria’s coming to pick you up.” He pauses on the line. “Tell Y/N I’m sorry.” He adds. “You’ll have to tell her that yourself, punk.” He sighs. He hangs up and slowly makes his way towards you. He’s about to say something, but your sniffle stops him dead and he winces as if you slapped him. “How long?” You mumble. “I don’t know.” He admits as he watches your hands ball into fists on the handle of the shopping cart. “Baby,” He starts and your shoulders hunch, you brush at your eyes. This hurts him worse than any slap or shouting match. It’s only a few seconds before you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, squeezing him to death.

“You better come back to me. Uninjured, sir.” You mutter, fingers curling into his hair desperately. “Yes, ma’am.” He mumbles, squeezing you tight. “I love you so much.” He backs away slowly, knowing Maria will be here in a moment. You pull him back to you, kissing him with all your might. “You better take care of my heart, since you’re taking it with you.” Your cheeks are wet, you’re so upset that your chest is quivering as you try to fight your tears. He brushes your cheeks gently, ignoring the phone ringing in my pocket. “I promise.” He pulls his gold card out of his wallet and presses it into your palm. “Buy anything you want. I’ll help you decorate when I get home.” He says, tipping your head down, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I love you.” He makes sure that it’s the last thing he says to you. Before every mission, he makes sure that you always know how he feels. He heads for the front of the store, shouldering the door open. Maria is parked out front in a big black SUV, waiting for him. He heaves himself in and slams the door. She takes off, heading for the private runway. “Packed you a bag. Nice boxers.” She smirks. “You know I keep a go bag ready in my closet.” He rolls his eyes. She does this every time. “Yeah, but I like to snoop. You can tell a lot about a man by his underwear.” She says mildly and he can’t tell if she’s joking. “Here.” She pulls a ziplock bag out of the middle of the seats and drops it onto his thigh. “Tell Y/N thanks for the cookies.” She says as he tucks the bag into his pocket for later. “You’ll have to tell her yourself. You have her number.” He reminds her. “I know.” “Find anything else you liked in my house?” He continues dryly. “Oh, absolutely.” Her phone dings and she checks it quickly before rearranging her expression “I have to find out where Y/N gets all her lingerie.” She waggles her eyebrows at him. “I’m sure that will be a fun conversation.” He grins. “Who was the text from?” “Y/N. Told me to watch your back.” She looks at him with a smirk as she pulls onto the highway. *** T W O W E E K S L A T E R The hotel gym was empty; the way Bucky prefers it. He jumps on the elliptical, deciding that today can be leg day. They’re two weeks into this mission, currently waiting on some intel before they can move. You’ve been sending him pictures of the decorations, asking what he likes or doesn’t like. It makes him feel a little better, almost as if he’s there with you. Almost. Sam and Steve join him a few minutes later. He ignores them as long as he can, but their eyes are like ants crawling over his skin. “What?” He snaps, turning to glare at them each in turn. “How’s it going?” Sam asks casually. “We’re in fucking Norway. Two weeks from Christmas.” He rolls his eyes, picking up the pace. “How d’ya think I’m doing, Wilson?” “I think you’re a sour wolf.” He grins. He stares at him. Coming to a stop, he climbs off and walks over to his bag, pulling out the last cookie. His eyes widen as he stares at Bucky in panic. “Hey, Buck, come on, man. I was only joking.” He tries to backtrack quickly. He breaks the cookie in half and walk over to the other side of Steve, handing him half while glaring at Sam. “Thanks, pal,” Steve says happily, shoving the whole thing into his mouth. Sam all but squeaks in shock and horror as it disappears. His eyes dart to his hand and Sam bolts off the machine as he crams the cookie in his mouth, fending Bird Brain off with his metal arm. He kicks his legs out from under him and they both topple to the ground. He chews while pushing his face away. “Sam, do you really want it now?” Steve chuckles and Sam rolls away with a groan. Bucky clambers back up and gets back on his machine. “Jerk.” He sighs. “How’s Y/N holding up?” Steve asks, glancing at Bucky. “Says she’s okay. Wants us to come back now. Apparently, you guys are coming over on Christmas Day.” He tells them. “Oh yeah. We were invited before you were, Tin Man.” Sam grins and he wants to trip him, just a little. “She went to the movies today, dunno what she saw, though.” He says, ignoring Wilson. “When will she be home?” His best friend asks. “Not for another hour or two,” Bucky replies. A voice in the hallway draws his attention, Steve’s a split second later. “No, I know. I can’t believe I’ve managed this long. I’m about to-” Maria Hill walks into the gym on her phone and stops dead when she sees the three of them. “No, I’m still here.” She mutters and Sam grins. “Who are you talking to, Maria?” He asks. “Your mom, Wilson. She says, what was that? Oh yeah, mind your own business.” She snaps. “I swear, getting any privacy in this place is impossible.” “The roof is good if you need to be alone,” Bucky tells her. “Just prop the cinderblock in front of the door.” “Thanks, Barnes.” She turns and leaves. He frowns, looking at Steve. “She’s been acting so weird, ever since we got here,” Bucky says and Steve nods. “She’s always on the phone. Two days ago, she answered a call in the middle of taking out those two guys.” Steve says. “Nearly bit my head off when I asked about it.” Sam agrees. “We should find out what she’s up to,” Steve says, hopping off the machine. Sam readily agrees, following him. “Just so you know, this is a terrible idea,” Bucky warns, following them. But he has at least an hour until you’re out of your movie, so to kill some time, he’ll do some snooping. They head up the stairs to the top floor, not really sneaking. Once they reach the top, he leads his idiot friends over to the roof door. He stops dead when he realizes that it’s closed. Did she forget the cinderblock? He motions for them to wait as he opens the door. Bucky digs out his phone as he props the door open. If she’s out here, he can just say that he wanted some privacy to call his wife. He walks around the outside, but there’s no sign of her. He makes his way back to the idiots and shrugs. “Spies.” Sam snorts and they head back for their rooms so he can shower and call you. *** T W O W E E K S L A T E R CHRISTMAS EVE “Good job, everyone,” Stark says as they leave the jet. “Barnes, get home in one piece so I don’t have to sleep with one eye open, yeah?” He grins. “Your girl terrifies me.” He rolls his eyes and climbs into the company car. “She should.” He mutters, gesturing for the driver to go, ignoring his nervousness. It’s late, long after dinner, but you know he’s on his way and you promised you’d stay up. Christ, he misses you so much. He’s sore all over and he can��t wait to shower and just fall into your bed. He jerks awake as the car comes to a sudden stop and he looks around, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry, sir. The car ahead of us-” The driver starts timidly, gesturing to the brake lights in front of us. He glances around, recognizing his surroundings. “It’s alright. I’ll walk from here. It’s not far.” He yawns, grabbing his bag. “But, sir.” “Go home. Merry Christmas. Go be with your family. I’m just around the corner.” He says, swinging the door shut and giving a wave. He hikes his bag over his shoulder and makes his way home. His legs ache, his back is pinching and pulling with every step. He reaches the front walk and smiles to himself. The house looks perfect, lights line the front porch, changing the puffy snow to bright colors. The front living room light is on, casting an orange glow over the front yard. Your carolers' ornament is front and center in the bay window and he can’t help but smile. He heads up the walkway and opens the front door. You’re standing at the end of the front hall, eyes bright. You’re gonna cry, he can already tell. Despite how anxious you are to have him home, you’re giving him space, holding yourself back. The front hall is decorated simply, Christmas cards from your family and friends. The glass of the stained-glass window is frosted with some sort of washable spray. A round ball of mistletoe is hanging from the dome light fixture halfway between you. He drops his bag and stares at you. He shrugs out of his jacket with a loud sigh before kicking off his boots. “How is it that I leave you and you get more beautiful?” He groans. You laugh while rolling your eyes as he turns to face you, holding out his arms. “Okay, let me have it.” He says and you step forward, slipping gently into his arms. You kiss him softly, your hands cupping his face. “Mmm. I was expecting you to be a little more... enthusiastic.” He murmurs, burying his face in your hair. “I know you hurt. I’ll jump on you later.” You reply, resting your head on his chest. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He sighs, holding you close. “Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nice, relaxing shower? When you’re ready, I’ll give you a nice back massage in front of the fireplace.” You suggest, pulling back and picking up a glass of whiskey. You place it gently in his hand, kissing his lips. “I’m glad you’re home safe and sound.” You lead him through the house and he pauses, looking at the tree. “You decorated everything?” He asks and you tilt your head. “Not entirely. I left the star for you. It didn’t feel right. I waited as long as I could.” You bite your lip and he pulls you against his side, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Next year, I’m telling Steve no more missions for the holidays.” He sighs. “Wanna shower with me?” He asks and you smile. “Not tonight. Go relax. I’ll be here when you come back down.” You promise. He kisses you deeply again, pulling you flush against him. Your hands start to creep up his neck, tugging at his hair before you pull back. “Nice try, mister.” You say breathlessly and he grins, not even bothering to feign innocence. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He heads up the stairs to get ready for his shower. The hot water beats down on his shoulders, working out the knots as best it can. Finally, he decides he’s soaked long enough and climbs out. He dries off and cleans up the bathroom before pulling on a pair of low riding pajama pants. He downs his drink before going back downstairs. You’ve started a fire in the brick fireplace, a massive number of stockings crowding the mantle. You must have heard him behind you, because you turn, eyes widening slightly. “Oh.” You murmur and he raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” He questions. “Is it too late to take you up on that joint shower?” You ask and he laughs. “Little bit, doll. Sorry.” You grin and gesture to the makeshift ‘bed’ you’ve made on the floor. He lowers himself down and looks up at you. “How do you want me, gorgeous?” He asks. “On your stomach. Anything else and you won’t get much of a massage.” You admit and he grins. “I’m fine with that.” “Stomach, Sarge.” You order and he groans as he shifts onto his stomach, laying down. You straddle his hips and he’s fairly certain one of you is facing the wrong way. Your hands are like fucking magic as you start at his neck, working out all the stiffness. He sighs contentedly as you work down his back, paying special attention to his shoulders, the scars that mark him. You’ve never shied away from any part of him. Jesus, he loves you. He lets his eyes drift closed, relishing in the feel of being home with the woman he loves, having your hands on him. It’s been too long. The longer you work, the more his muscles turn to actual puddles under your expert fingers. A moan escapes and you chuckle, laying down on his back, cheek resting against his shoulder. “Feel better?” “Mmm, much.” He sighs and you tilt your head, pressing kisses along his skin, across his back to his metal shoulder. “I love you so much.” You mumble. “I love you, too.” He smiles. Your lips trail over his scars for a few more minutes before you push yourself up. He misses the feel of you. “I have to pee. You should put on a shirt before you catch a cold.” You say, disappearing into the kitchen. “You know I don’t get sick.” He calls, pushing himself up. You gasp loudly. “Quick, knock on wood before a super big gets you!” He laughs, knocking on the door frame as he jogs up the stairs to grab a shirt. “Do you want some cocoa?” You call up the stairs. “Absolutely!” He calls back, about to slide his drawer closed when he realizes that your wedding picture is missing off the dresser. He frowns, looking around until he realizes it’s laying on his pillow. He smiles to himself and places it back in the center of his dresser. “Sweet girl.” He mutters, pulling his shirt on and heading back downstairs. “Baby?” He calls. “Living room.” You reply and he walks in, finding you in front of the fireplace. He wraps his arms around you from behind, nuzzling into your neck. “Were you missing me?” “Yeah. You found the wedding photo, I assume?” “Yeah. I put it back.” “Now that I have the real thing.” You sigh, leaning back against him. “Do we really need so many stockings?” He asks and you nod. “Yes. I’ve labeled them already.” You say with a gesture. He takes a step forward to read the names decorating the stockings. “Uncle Steve, Aunty Natasha, Uncle Sa-am,” He stutters. “Keep going.” You urge, holding onto his wrists. “Uncle Tony, Aunty Maria, Uncle Thor, Aunty Laura, Uncle Clint, Mommy, Dad-dy,” his voice breaks and he knows he’s squeezing you too hard, harder than he should be. “Last one.” You prompt. “Baby Barnes 7•12•20.” He looks down at you, his vision going blurry. You cover your mouth, hiding a smile so wide your cheeks just might crack. “Are you serious? I’m not being pranked?” “Not the kind of prank I would pull.” You roll your eyes and his gaze drops to your stomach. “When did you find out?” “About a week before you left. I was going to tell you but then you had to leave and I didn’t want to distract you. I made Maria promise she wouldn’t say anything.” “Maria?” His eyes snap back to yours. “She always gets your bag. I knew she would have found the test; she’s always snooping. I made her promise to let me be the one to tell you.” “Have you been talking to her this whole time?” “Yeah. She was helping me, got me into Stark’s medical lab for checkups and prenatal care. The stockings were her idea.” You say, starting to look nervous. “I knew she was acting weird.” He mutters. “I can’t believe you’re really pregnant.” He rests his hands on your abdomen reverently and you search his face. “You’re happy?” You ask apprehensively. “Happy? Baby, I’m fucking thrilled!” He picks you up and kisses your face all over. You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Oh, thank god.” “I can’t believe you. You shouldn’t have been waiting on me like that, sweetheart.” He frowns, setting you back down. “I’m alright. I wanted to. I knew you’d be tired and sore. I wanted to make you feel good. You do so much for me, Bucky. This was the least I could do, make our home feel like an actual home, like when we were kids. I know we grew up in different times, but it’s not so different.” “How did I get so lucky?” He mumbles, pulling you close again. “I dunno.” You shrug and he laughs. “Can we go to bed? I really missed you.” He sighs. “Let’s go. We have a big day tomorrow.” You take his hand and lead him up to your bed. *** Bucky groans as his alarm goes off. He slaps at his phone and you shift against him with a whine. “Make it stop.” You complain. “We have to get up.” He mutters, finally finding the off button. “People are coming over. Steve’s gonna want coffee.” You groan, burying your face in his chest. “Round three was a mistake.” “It was your idea.” He laughs. You push yourself up and straddle his hips with a grin. “I know. You should know better than to give me what I want.” He grips your thighs, already willing to give you round four as soon as you say the words. But then you swing your leg over, climbing off the bed. “Tease.” He sighs. “You start the coffee? I’ll start the breakfast pizza.” You kiss his forehead before grabbing some clothes and heading down the hall to the bathroom. He gets up, straightening the blankets on the bed before pulling on a fresh pair of pajama pants and a plain white shirt. The kitchen tiles are cold on his bare feet as he makes his way to the coffee pot. A round of nerves spikes through him as he thinks about the day ahead. He turns the coffee on and gets out a bunch of mugs. There’s a knock on the door and you come down the stairs. “I’ve got it.” You call. You open the front door and it sounds like everyone showed up at once. “Bucky’s in the kitchen with the coffee. Yes, Steven, there will be enough coffee for everyone.” You sigh and he just has to laugh. Bucky’s friends come through to greet him and he realizes your ploy to keep them out of the living room for a few minutes. You join them a few seconds later, arm snaking around his waist. “So, I was thinking, once everyone has their coffee, we can do presents and then eat? Clint and Laura asked us all to join them for dinner later.” You say, catching Maria’s eye. “Sounds good to me.” Steve agrees happily. Once everyone is settled in the living room, you sit on his lap in his arm chair, hand squeezing his in a death grip. “Okay, everyone has stockings, your names are on them.” You say and he can feel your pulse thumping erratically in your hand. Maria skips up first, finding hers easily. Steve and Sam find theirs next. Steve’s blue eyes widen as he reads the name on his stocking. He grabs Sam’s, checking the name on that one. Sam swats his hand away, before seeing his name. His gaze shoots over to you and Bucky puts a finger to his lips, gesturing to everyone else. One by one, their reactions are the same as they realize the importance. “First of all.” Tony starts, holding his up, pointing to the name. “Shouldn’t nine say ‘godfather’?” He asks and Buck rolls his eyes. “It can be changed later if that’s the decision we come to.” You reply with a pleasant smile. “Fair. Second of all, congratulations. How long have you known? Did Barnes know the whole time we were gone?” “No, but Maria did.” He says, narrowing his eyes at the dark-haired woman. Steve pulls you to your feet, crushing you in a hug. “I’m definitely The Godfather, right?” He whispers and you just chuckle, returning the hug. “I love you, too, Stevie.” You grin. You settle back into his lap, pulling his arm around you as you watch your family start to open their presents.

Tags:

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @alexblrus @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @thirstybitchqueen @xxloki81xx @stuckonjbbarnes @browngirlmagic @geeksareunique @nicoleplacee @lexshead @gambitsqueen

#panic's 25 days of christmas fics #panic's 25 days of christmas #marvel #marvel fanfic #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #romance #mermaidxatxheart-writes #fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #fanfiction

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ventrue-rosary · 5 years

Text

A Flower of a Different Colour

A re-upload of this post since its broken on tumblr mobile

Autumn is mine, Kevir belongs to @theravensprince

Ko-Fi

Beepbebebeep! Beepbebebeep!

Autumn flings her arm ungracefully out to the alarm obnoxiously intruding upon her morning. Her fingers scrabble for the off-button, leaving her in blessed silence.

She rolls over with a sigh, her eyes peeking open. The digital clock reads 6:30.

Autumn stretches her sleep-heavy arms and sits up, rubbing at her swollen eyes. As always, she crosses her bedroom to her windowsill, watering her cacti, succulents and pot of creeping ivy climbing up the wall next to her window. She smiles as she gently traces the leaves with her hands. Satisfied with her work, she readies herself for the day. By 7:30 she is out of her apartment, and making her way to work. Though young, she is the proud owner and worker of her own florist shop: A Rose Without Thorns. She opens shop as the sleepy neighbourhood rouses, workers sleepily stumbling to their workplace and parents sheparding their children to school.

As with most weekdays with no major holidays on the horizon, the morning crawls by, only a few of her regulars coming by for a single flower or pot or just for a chat. As usual, her mother stops by late morning for a bouquet of roses and to drop off some of her favourite snacks. By lunch time, work crawls by to a complete stop, but it does give her time to perfect the arrangements of the flowers outside, then slowly work her way through the inside of the shop.

The bell above the door rings. Autumn looks up from her work to see someone a far cry from her usual clientèle.

A purple winged tiefling steps into her establishment; black jeans, black leather jacket and black combat boots that stomp heavily across the wooden floor. Tousled hair perfect frames his angular face, and impossibly dark eyes sweep across the room until they find Autumn.

She then realises she is still knelt on the floor, openly staring.

‘Oh--’ She averts her gaze and jumps to her feet, smoothing down the frills of here mini-apron as she hurries behind the counter.

‘Welcome! Let me know if I can help you with anything.’

‘I’m looking to buy flowers for a pretty girl,’ he says, his voice pleasant and accented.

‘Oh? How lovely! Do you know what kind of flowers she likes?’ Her shoulder unclench as some of the anxiety drains from her body. If he came to make trouble he likely already would have done so.

‘Not yet. What would you recommend?’

‘Roses are always a safe bet. Red roses, if it's a romantic gesture. You see, different colour roses have different meaning behind them. Pink for friendship, orange for familial bonds, white for purity and spirituality--’ She tapers off with a blush as she beholds his amused smile. ‘Sorry, I’m rambling.’

‘That's alright. I was enjoying listening to you.’

Autumn feel her blush deepen.

He picks up a large red bouquet. ‘May I ask your name?’ he asks as he hands her the money.

‘Huh? I-oh. My names Autumn.’

‘Autumn? Fitting. I’m Kevir. Keep the change.’

‘O-ok, thank you.’

He grins at her one last time before he leaves her shop, leaving a very flustered Autumn.

As 5pm rolls around, Autumn begins to close shop, still thinking about her encounter with Kevir. She doesn't like to think of herself as judgemental, but she had thought of him as trouble when he first walked in. How wrong she had been.

She finds herself wondering about the girl he mentioned. She hopes she appreciated his gift.

Autumn double checks the doors are locked and turns around--right into Kevir. She squeals in shock, nearly falling right to the ground.

‘S--sorry!’

‘I didn't mean to scare you. I did call your name a few times, didn't you hear me?’

She notices Kevir still holds the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

‘Oh, did you want to return them? I’m sorry, you’ll have to return tomorrow--I just closed up.’

‘No, I didn't want to return them--I wanted to give them to you.’ He holds out the flowers to her

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I bought them for you. Take them.’

‘T-thank you?’

He gives her a wink and walks away, eventually heading into the tattoo parlour further down the road.

When Autumn examines the bouquet in her hands she spots writing on the card:

07113246589

Call me! ; )

-Kevir

Autumn makes a noise of disbelief. He couldn't be serious. He isn’t. Is he? She shoves the card in her bag before making her way home.

The TV drones on in the background, going unnoticed by Autumn who stares at the roses that have found a home in the vase on her coffee table. She glances at her bag across the sofa.

She abruptly drags her eyes away, trying to focus on the drama playing on the screen. Trying and failing.

Autumn snatches her bag and drags it over to her, pushing aside her purse, makeup and the snacks her mother had given her until she finds the small, crumpled card.

She smoothes it over her thigh as she holds her phone in her other hand. Her finger hesitates over the digits on her screen as doubt begins to cloud her judgement.

‘Oh just do it,’ she hisses at herself

She dials before she changes her mind. Each enduring trill of the ringtone quickens her heartbeat. Then it stops with a click. She holds her breath.

‘Hello?’

Autumn hangs up with a scream. Her head falls into her palms with a groan. She has basically committed social suicide with this guy. A good-looking seemingly kind man interested in her and she screamed down the phone at him.

The ringing and vibrating of her phone draws her attention back to her coffee table, Kevir’s number displayed on the screen.

She watches it ring in silent panic until it stops. She breathes in relief. Then it rings again. She turns off her phone, ending the predicament altogether. She likely had already put him off, what further harm could she do by ghosting him?

Autumn hugs her knees to her chest, wishing she had the courage to hold a conversation with him. She let's herself fall limp on her side, still clutching her knees. Eventually, sleep finds her.

Autumn returns to work the following morning, business as usual minus her sullied mood. She is still mad at herself for being an awkward coward.

Around 2 hours after she opened, Kevir enters. A thousand emotions fly through her at once at their meeting, mostly abstract fear.

‘O-oh , mood gorn--good morning!’

‘Morning yourself.’ He leans his elbows on the counter, mere inches away from her. ‘Did you, uh, did you call me last night?’

‘H-huh?’ Her voice is a few octaves higher than usual. ‘No, of course not!’

‘Oh,’ Kevir deflates. ‘I see.’

‘I--I mean, I wanted to!! I, um, I dropped my phone yesterday. Screen-down, it shattered, totally unusable.’

Kevir doesn't look convinced. Of course he isn’t, she's a terrible liar.

‘I’m… I’m glad you came to see me today.’ Autumn’s changing of subject is likely very obvious, but at least she is speaking honestly now.

‘I’m glad to see you.’ His smile is disarming. ‘Say, wanna get lunch together?’

‘Y-yes I would like that.’ She smiles shyly, toying with her hair to avoid looking him in the eye.

‘Perfect. See you in a few hours.’

Autumn doesn't look up until she hears the bell jingle as he leaves, the smile still stuck on her face.

She looks up at the clock. Midday can’t come soon enough.

Kevir returns around 12, and Autumn feels her heart flutter as he enters.

‘Ready?’

‘One moment!’ She pulls on her apron strings, folding it onto the chair behind the counter. She fetches her shoulder bag from the back room and takes a moment to check her reflection. She shakes her bangs and uses her fingers to even them out over her brow, smoothes down her hair and applies just a bit of lip gloss. She only wishes she had worn something a bit more exciting than a white blouse and black mini-skirt.

‘OK, ready!’

‘Let's go. I know a little place.’

Kevir takes her to a cute cosy cafe a few blocks down, named The Pot and the Kettle. Not many patrons inside, but it means they can snag the cosiest chairs; two impossibly soft, large armchairs close to the fire with a large table between them. Being a rather tepid spring, there is no fire but there is still something comforting about it.

A cute elven waitress takes their orders. Kevir orders black coffee and a slice of chocolate cake. Autumn asks for a white chocolate mocha and matcha pound cake.

Kevir tilts his head at her order. ‘Sweet tooth?’

‘Very much so! I love sweets, chocolate and baked goods… Oh that must seem childish.’

‘Not at all! Food doesn’t have an age limit. I have a soft spot for them myself.’

The waitress returns with their orders. ‘Let me know if I can get you anything else,’ she says in a husky purr, talking exclusively to Kevir.

‘Thanks,’ Kevir answers, giving her only a cursory, polite look.

He takes off his leather jacket, revealing his tattoo sleeves. Autumn daintly gasps as she beholds the artwork displayed in his skin; twisting, connected pieces of dragons, weaponry like arrows, tortured faces, skulls and even some flowers interlocked and interwoven into one overarching gothic scene. The collar of his shirt is open enough to see the tip of a black feathered wing brushing just beneath his collarbone.

‘You have so many tattoos,’ she says in awe, reaching out for his skin before remembering herself. ‘Ah, I’m sorry!’

Her hands returns to her lap, where she tugs and fiddled with the rings on her fingers.

Kevir laughs in response, straightening his arms out on the table for her. ‘It’s alright. Touch me if you like.’

Autumn hesitantly reaches out with one hand, the other clutched into a fist over her chest. Her index fingers brushes against the smooth skin of his forearm. Where the tattoos are, the skin is slightly raised, but still just as soft. Her finger follows the design of the sleeve down to the back of his hand, impossibly smooth.

‘No one has hands this soft!’ The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop herself. ‘Oh God, that was a very weird thing to say...sorry. I just…’

Kevir rotates his hand on top of hers, smoothing his fingers over her skin. ‘Your hands are this soft.’

She glances up shyly, her flustered mind failing to come up with a response. She slides her hand out from under his, returning it to her lap, once more fidgeting with her rings. What is happening here?

‘Did it hurt?’ she asks after a short silence, still staring at his arms.

‘A little. Tattoos don’t hurt as much as everyone thinks they will. Would you like one?’

‘Eh!?’

‘I’ll give you one for free if you give me some flowers. How about it?’

‘...Could I choose what to get?’

‘Of course. And where you get it.’

‘O-ok...I guess I could get a little one somewhere...a flower maybe?’

‘Perfect! We’ll do it tomorrow.’

‘T-tomorrow? So soon?’

‘Would you rather wait?’

‘No, no tomorrow is fine.’ Her heart thunders in her chest as she says those words. Autumn has never had good experiences with needles. ‘What kind of flowers would you like?’

‘Hmm…’ Kevir drums his fingers as he considers. ‘Surprise me. Get me some flowers you think I’d like.’

He reclines in his chair with an easy smirk, Autumn’s mind already firing off numerous ideas for species and colours.

She smiles as an idea occurs to her. ‘I think you’ll like what I have planned.’

‘Am I that easy to read?’ He sounds amused.

‘I mean...when I first saw you I thought you were going to be some ruffian who would make some trouble for me or destroy my shop’

Kevir looks less amused now, quizzing her with a raised eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry! I was wrong to be so judgemental! I don’t usually get many young people in my shop, And you carried yourself with such confidence, almost cocky. Clearly I read you wrong. So no, not easy to read…’

‘And what do you think of me now?’

He’s enjoying this, she realises. She is so very obviously crushing on him.

‘Um…’ Her fingers clench into fists as they clutch the soft material of her skirt. ‘Well, I don’t know you very well, but obviously you are very kind, a-and…’

‘You’re right, you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. Swap stories?’

‘I’m not terribly interesting…’ she murmurs, her hnads clenching even tighter.

‘I’m sure I would disagree. Tell me about yourself.’

She takes a deep breath. ‘Well, you know my name is Autumn. My parents, half-elf and tiefling live on the outskirts of the city. My mother is a model, my father her bodyguard. I have a twin brother in university. I like cute animals, sweet food and flowers. See? Not interesting…’

‘You're so cute.’ Kevir smiles genuinely, his head tilted as he stares at her. ‘Your mother is a model?’

Autumn nods, blushing. ‘My mother is Amaranthe Darcelle. You might have heard of her.’

‘Your mother is Amaranthe Darcelle? That must be where you got your beauty.’

‘Beauty?’ Autumn sputters.

Kevir nods. Autumn takes a large swig of her coffee, trying to buy herself some time as she tries to think of some sort of response.

She places her cup back on its saucer. ‘I, um. I think you're very handsome.’

‘Thank you. It makes me happy you think that.’

‘So you never told me about yourself,’ she says, busying herself with her cake to avoid having to look him in the eye. At this rate she was going to explode.

‘You’re in luck. I love talking about myself to beautiful women.’ Kevir reclines in his chair with a smile.

Autumn let's out a gasp as she looks at the clock. ‘It’s already been two hours??’

Kevir follows her gaze to the clock, looking as shocked as she feels. ‘It really doesn't feel like its been that long.’

‘Uhm, bill, please!’ She calls to the waitress. ‘I should be getting back to my shop.’

‘As should I.’

The waitress puts down a small silver tray with their bill on top. Kevir shakes his head at her as she pulls out her purse.

‘Put that away. I’m paying.’

‘I should at least pay for myself…’

‘This was my idea. So it’ll be my treat.’

‘Ok, thank you.’

They hover for a moment outside the cafe, neither really wanting to go back to work.

‘Thanks for today. I had fun getting to know you,’ Autumn said.

‘And I you.’

Kevir leans down closer and presses a soft, chaste kiss on her cheek. Autumn let's out a small gasp as her entire body freezes. The heat crawls up her neck up to her face and even her ears.

Kevir clears his throat. ‘I’m sorry. I should have asked first. I’ll see you tomorrow?’

He stumbles off without awaiting her reply. Autumn slowly raises one hand to her cheek, caressing the space his lips had just touched.

‘See you soon,’ she whispers absently to empty air.

Autumn takes a bunch of white roses home with her, remembering her deal with Kevir. She sets up large glasses of dye; black, purple and blue, cuts open the stems and evenly divided the rose's between them. Curling up on the sofa, she stares at the roses, hoping he will like them, until the call of sleep is too strong to ignore.

The next day arrives, bringing with it sunshine and happy thoughts. Autumn hums a small tune to herself as she goes about her morning routine, all her thoughts focused on yesterday's...date? Was it a date? Is it too early or presumptuous to call it such?

Autumn ties the rose's together with a red ribbon, tying it into an attractive bow. Then she sets off for the day, making her way past her shop to the tattoo parlour several doors down, Devil’s Ink. The outside certainly has a gothic look, coffin-shaped windows the opening hours painted gold onto the glass. Pushing open the heavy door, she comes onto a wooden-floored room, dimly lit by two low-hanging chandeliers. Heavy metal music thumps through the speaker system.

A bored-looking human with bubblegum pink hair mans the dark wooden counter, fingers jabbing away at her phone screen.

‘Um, excuse me?’

She does a double take at Autumn. Dressed in pink frills and a petticoat she probably is a far cry from their usual clientele.

‘Yes, sweetie? How can I help?’

‘Is Kevir here?’

‘One sec.’

She picks up a phone, which Autumn assumes is part of an internal communication system.

‘Yeah, Kevir? Some girl is here to see you, too much pink, wings--hello?’ She hangs up with a sigh. ‘He’ll be down in a minute.’

Autumn watches the set of stairs, which is in fact a two flights that lead to the same balcony, nervously thumbing the petals of her dyed roses.

Kevir appears moments later, jogging down the stairs with glee.

‘Hello, Autumn. You're earlier than I thought you'd be.’

‘Oh, sorry. I guess I’m used to the life of an early bird now.’ She holds out the bouquet of flowers to him. ‘These are for you!’

‘Thank you! Are these...did you dye them?’

She nods with a touch of pride. ‘Yep. I thought you might like them.’

‘I do. Have you thought about a tattoo designs?’

‘I did. And I thought I’d pick one of your designs. I-if that's ok?’

‘Of course. I’m flattered. Follow me.’

He leads her up the stairs into a private room. A large leather reclining chair takes up most of the centre of the room, set up next to Kevir’s workstation. On the left-hand wall a black leather sofa is set up in front of a long, narrow coffee table, bare except for a heavy folder.

Peeking at the walls, she sees countless upon countless of designs, some black and white, other full colours. All of them more magnificent than the next.

Autumn looks about in awe, Kevir watching her with light amusement.

‘You see anything you like, let me know.’

She nods, her eyes still taking in her breathtaking surroundings. Eventually she settles down on the sofa, flicking through his partfolio. She finds each and every one wonderful in its own way but one above all others draws her in. An open pocketwatch swinging on its chain, wrapped around by roses and thorns stems, a few butterflies taking flight away. It is nothing short of perfection.

‘See something you like?’

She jumps, not realising Kevir is leaning on the back of the sofa to her side, peering down over her shoulder.

‘A nice choice. Also none of my other customers have chosen it, so it’ll be unique. Now, where would you like it?’

Autumn pats the upper half of her left arm. ‘Here…’ Then realisation dawns. Her chosen outfit, though lovely in appearance just had one problem--wherever she chose to have a tattoo, something had to be taken off.

‘Alright, I’ll get the ink and stencil ready. Just sit on the chair when you’re ready.’

‘R-right.’

Autumn walks over to the chair, hitching herself up on it, wondering if she should take her shirt off now or wait until prompted.Her heart thuds in her chest as she considers it. No one, not ever, has seen her in her underwear before.

She decides to do it as she waits, now Kevir’s back is turned to her. She pulls the bow around her collar loose, then undoes the buttons on by one, letting it slide off her shoulders and pool around her waist.

Kevir turns on the chair to face her. ‘Ok are you--’

His words stop as he looks at her, his eyes dropping from her face down to her torso. She feels suddenly very embarrassed and has to stop herself from wrapping her arms around herself. Kevir quickly regains his composure, pushing a cushioned stand for her to rest her arm on as he gets to work.

He presses the stencil to her arm, gets her to check the size and placement. After a few minor adjustments, he pulls out the needle, and her courage seems to fail her. Her breath becomes heavy and laboured, unable to take her eyes off the implement in his hand.

‘All those are going into my arm?’

‘Are you having second thoughts?’

‘N-no.’

‘Are you sure? Once I start I can’t stop unless you want an incomplete tattoo on your arm.’

‘No, it’s fine. Go ahead.’

Four hours and many shed tears later, Autumn now has a fresh and wrapped tattoo on her arm.

‘I’m sorry for crying. That was embarrassing.’

‘It’s alright. I know it’s a scary and painful thing. A lot of first timers cry.’ He gently wipes away her residual tears away, his fingers lingering on her skin. ‘I’ve had big, burly grown men cry harder than you.’

She laughs softly through her sniffles. ‘Thank you.’

‘Take it easy for the rest of the day, Autumn. Wash it in two hours time, then wash it and pat dry twice a day.’ He hands her a small, white tub. ‘Apply that after you’ve washed it.’

‘Ok, thank you.’ With some difficulty due to her sore and quite tightly wrapped arm she begins to pull her shirt back on.

‘Here, let me help you.’ Amusement tugs at the corner of his lips. He pulls the shirt up onto her shoulders, fingers tracing every so slightly across her collarbone as he fastens the top button.

‘Oh you don’t have to…’ she trails off when his fingers brush against her skin, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Then it is over all too quickly, Kevir cleaning his tattoo gun as though he hadn't fastened her shirt. She lingers awkwardly for a moment before she slides off the chair.

‘I’ll see you out.’

He takes both of her hands in his once they are outside, taking a moment to stare in her eyes before he leans in to kiss her cheek. Autumn frees one of her hands from his and places it on the side of his face, pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. They remain interlinked there, arms wrapping around each other as their lips lock together.

Once they part, they are breathless and she feels dizzy. Her eyes remain closed for a few seconds after, savouring the lingering feeling of his lips on hers.

When she opens her eyes, she meets Kevir’s, dark and alluring as a moonless night.

‘Your eyes are beautiful,’ she breathes.

‘Not as beautiful as yours. See you tomorrow?’ he asks hopefully.

She nods, beaming. ‘See you tomorrow.’

#Autumn Darcelle #Kevir Pride #tattoo/florist AU #my writing

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just-homo-thingsxd · 5 years

Text

A Meeting. (Endeavor x Male Reader pt 3)

You ended up staying the night at Enji's place for the night and, you two stayed up talking for awhile, you were surprised. He's seemed to change a little bit, but he still seems a bit hard-headed and temperamental. However, when you went to bed last night you found yourself abundantly happy and sleep came very easy.

You awoke the next morning, still in the robe he'd given you from the night before. It was quite comfortable all things considered, but it was quite hazardous for you being that you wouldn't wear pants under it. Only underwear. Meaning Enji's legs were just out, taunting you. Either Endeavor was clueless, or an evil bastard who knew how much it would torment you. A sadist perhaps? Regardless, you couldn't deny what you felt for him. You knew he was a softie deep down. Not when he's on hero duty of course, and you could imagine it would only be to the right person. Maybe you were that person? Nah.

After a silent giggle of your wild thoughts you got up from the bed and made your way back to where you'd had a chat with him. Unsure of where to even begin to look for him. His place was huge. You pulled out your phone and saw that you had two notifications from last night. One was a text message was from your boss.

"Yo! I can't tell you how thankful I am for you staying longer than you were scheduled, and for giving Endeavor a great time! If you'd like you can have the rest of the week off. Hmu if you're down."

You responded, quite happy.

"Hey, sorry for the late response, I was busy. You're welcome, I'm grateful for the opportunity. I will happily take the rest of the week off, haha."

As for the other one. It was a voicemail from a number that didn't seem familiar.

"If you don't wish for Todoroki Enji to have enemies who will come after his life. Listen and do what I say, and no one will be hurt. We simply wish to talk to someone who has information on him, and we've come to the conclusion you do. Go to the park near the restaurant you work at. Come alone, and wait until 7pm on the dot. I will meet you there."

That voice was deep and menacing. What the hell was that about anyway? He sounded serious, and he must've been watching you two last night at the restaurant. How did he have my number? What information did he want? What does he mean by enemies for you or Endeavor?

"Hey."

A hand touched your shoulder and you turned around instantly, and jumped back.

"GAH!"

His face looked concerned.

"Didn't mean to scare you. I tried calling out to you, but you didn't answer. Is everything alright?"

"O-oh s-sorry. Just uh.. thinking! My boss gave me the rest of the week off so I was thinking of what I was gonna do. Maybe if you aren't busy we could go on a da- HANG OUT SOme more!!"

Your nerves were shot right now, you couldn't think straight and it was obviously showing.

"Calm down. Something's wrong, you don't have to tell me, but just know I'm willing to listen if you need to talk. As for the rest of the week. I need to attend to some paperwork for my hero agency but that should only take a few hours."

"S-sorry Enji.. I-I was just a bit lost in thought and you caught me off guard. So I overreacted a bit."

He nodded his head and pat your shoulder, gripping on it firmly.

"No worries. If you want to stay here you can, but I'm afraid I have to get going."

"I'm gonna head home for today. I have some stuff to take care of."

Enji nodded his head once more and started to head for the door.

"I'll have Leonard come back after he drops me off. There's two showers, on the bottom floor it's the door next to the room you stayed in. On the second floor it's the first door to the right of the stairs."

Complicated directions but it was understandable.

"Thank you, Enji."

Without another word he left. Now that you were alone with your thoughts, the voicemail came back to you. Whoever it was, you couldn't take your chances. Whoever they were they knew where you worked and were watching you. Ignoring them wouldn't be wise. What choice did you have? Of course you had to see them, and what information did they want? You didn't know much about Endeavor other than his personality and that he was a very competent and intelligent hero who worked hard to achieve his number 2 spot. The amount of cases he'd solved had been unparalleled. What else could you offer?

Deciding to clear your mind you took a shower on the first floor. Doing your absolute best not to stress. The voice was clear and concise, no one was to know of this chat, and no one could be there. Considering they'd clearly been watching for a bit. It was best not to take your chances and turn things aggressive.

After getting dressed into fresh clothes and trying to relax you lounged around until a familiar voice, followed by a doorbell interrupted you.

"Howdy howdy, anyone home?"

You quickly approached the door and opened it. The same old man from the night before gave you a cheeky salute.

"Good Morning, Leonard. How are you doing?"

"Ehh, the usual I suppose. Although, I'm more interested in what you were doing at Mr. Todoroki's house all night?"

Though you had a slight blush to your answer. You felt no need to lie.

"As I said last night, it had been awhile since we'd seen each other so we caught up a bit. It was way too late before either of us noticed the time, so he offered for me to stay at his place for the night."

He smirked a bit.

"In the same bed perhaps? You're the only one who would tell me if something went down between you two."

"Hah! If onl-"

You caught what you were about to say and covered your mouth with your hands.

"Oh?! I see how it is. You should tell him. Honesty is key to a relationship."

"W-we're not in a relationship Leonard."

"You want to change that though, correct?"

It was a good question. Obviously there was no denying the physical attraction you felt towards him. Not to mention you cared about him deeply. You had such a skewed view of love and compassion. It was hard to tell why you felt such a need to be around him.

"Leonard.. If you don't mind me asking. How do you see Enji and mine's friendship?"

"An interesting question indeed! The mood I got off you two was two birds of a feather flock.... Meaning... Yeesh, you youngsters these days. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is you're both so similar and want the same thing, but neither of you can see it. Perhaps you can, but choose to deny the signs? He speaks highly of you, and in my years of serving this man I've never heard that. You're special to him. Just like he's special to you, if he wasn't, you wouldn't have agreed to see him right?"

Your eyes were on the floor, and head lowered. Everything Leonard said was true, but with how it ended last time you were hesitant to think you meant anything to him. Though, if what he said was true. You knew how you felt, but he was the wild card. Did he really.. like you? A hand met your shoulder.

"Ease your way into a conversation about it. It won't end your friendship, but expect him to push back. That, after all, is how he is."

"Heh.. you're right about that."

You pulled Leonard into a hug and squeezed slightly.

"Thank you, Leonard. Having an outside perspective really opened my eyes."

"No problem kiddo. Now. Where'd a young, cute guy like you want to go on a fine day like this?"

"If you wouldn't mind taking me home that'd be sweet."

"Of course sir. Just tell me where and you'll be there in no time."

Although with what you inevitably had to do tonight. There was a bit of clarity at least when it came to your feelings and thoughts for Endeavor. Once Leonard dropped you off at home you ate some breakfast, skipped lunch and had a very light dinner. All things considered you weren't hungry. It was 6:30 now, and as the time continued to draw closer the feeling of dread in your chest and the pit of your stomach wasn't going away. You got dressed, putting on a t-shirt, black hoodie and sweatpants. In fear of having to run away. In your pocket was a knife. You had very little to go off of for this. The voice had said no one would get hurt, but in this situation.. Those who erred on the side of caution, survived.

You made your way to the park you were told to be at. Though it was to be expected you saw no one there. Whoever these people were probably knew the traffic of this area. They knew there would be no one around at this time of night at this time. You sat on a swing and looked down at your phone. 6:55pm you managed to arrive early. That's when you heard a large gust of wind from underneath the jungle gym. You stepped toward it, knife in hand, but still concealed in your pocket. There was a black, and purplish portal of sorts.

"Welcome, please, come inside."

"Sure.."

Despite everything your body told you listened to the voice. It was the same one from the voicemail. Using your hand first you pushed it through and felt around.

"Come now, there's no need for suspicion. As you might be able to tell, my quirk isn't the most battle effective. You have the advantage as we have no idea what yours is. We don't wish to hurt you, simply exchange information."

While you had no idea who this man was, he was certainly good at easing your mind. He wasn't wrong, you could lie entirely about your quirk to make them afraid to start anything. Stepping through you were met with a dimly lit bar looking room. In the corner was a poster with what looked like claw marks slashing through it. Looking behind the counter you see a man without a head, or arms really. They seemed spectral, his eyes were yellow, long and narrow.

Once he saw you finally noticed him he bowed his head a bit as he gestured to the seat in front of him.

"It's nice to meet you. Please take a seat, would you like a drink?"

"No thank you, It's a pleasure to meet you as well. Mr..."

"Kurogiri. No need for the Mr. however."

"Ah, I see. Well I can assume you already know my name?"

"That is correct."

"I figured. What did you want to discuss? You said you wouldn't go after Endeavor.. I can assume you're a villain?"

"That's correct, and what I wanted to discuss was how much Endeavor meant to you. You and him were always together while attending U.A no? That gives you two reason to care for eachother."

What was he getting at? Even if it was true that your past was what made your feelings possible now. Why does he care all of a sudden? More importantly, how does he know?

"You seem very knowledgeable Kurogiri, sir. That statement would be correct if we did care for eachother. Well I suppose if he cared for me."

You knew Endeavor did, but that was the last thing you could worry about now. Throwing him off his trail for whatever he wanted was a bit more important.

"How come you two met up as of late then?"

"I was already clocked out, my boss told me he was coming by and asked if I could stay. I'm the best waiter they have according to him. So, to ensure he had a good time he enlisted my help. I obliged and after that he asked if I wanted to talk to him about school, and reminisce on old times."

The well dressed male studied you for a moment. His arm was against where his chin would be.

"You said you cared for him. Though he doesn't care for you. Yet he invites you to his home?"

"Hey, don't ask me about his motives. Maybe he wanted me drunk for a quick hook-up? I don't know. I didn't bother to ask. I was still in so much pain from all the feelings and memories that popped up I stopped caring half-way through."

"Allow me one last question before I let you go."

"Go for it."

"If we've been watching this entire time. Do you think we stopped when you got to his house?"

Your hand clenched the knife. He had you set up the entire time. He knew the answers to all the questions he was asking. This was a test of truth, you had to guess.

"Fair enough, you got me. Can you blame me for keeping it under a lie? You would just tell someone you met all about your personal life when you don't even know what they want?"

He let out a chuckle, which was slightly menacing but almost.. light hearted?

"You bring up a good point. You see, this wasn't entirely just for questions. We've solidified some valuable knowledge with your answers. Now, as promised. You will be returned to the park with no harm coming to you or your dear Todoroki."

It felt too easy. Too fast, there had to be more in store.. Regardless you had to play along, you were in his domain and he was the only one with the key out. Keeping him happy was the only way you'd get out of here.

"You seem like a very nice person Kurogiri, why be a villain?"

"An interesting question young man. I owe our leader my allegiance. That is why I side with the villains."

"I see. I was just a little curious."

He held his arm out and the familiar wind gust noise appeared. You turned around a bit, and there was another portal.

"You're free to go. This was nice, young man."

"It was, thank you."

You still kept your hand locked to your knife. It was too suspicious. He went out of his way to meet with you, and only to talk about how you and Endeavor felt? Regardless you went through the portal and were back under the jungle gym.

"One last thing."

You turned towards the portal.

"What is i-"

Immediately a hand thrusted through the portal and gripped tightly on your head, over your right eye.

"My apologies. If only it could've been different."

While Kurogiri spoke your hands immediately went to trying to remove this hand, but it had such a death grip. That was before you started to feel the oddest, yet most anguish inducing pain radiating throughout your forehead and right side of your face. You could feel your skin slowly peeling away. It felt as if a searing hot knife was cutting through, and melting your skin. Mustering strength you didn't have through adrenaline you were finally able to pull the hand off of your face. You couldn't open your eye, blood was dripping off your chin, since your skin was missing.

Falling on your back you felt the familiar grip wrap around your ankle. You kicked at the hand over and over, but it was dead set on staying there. Gripping the knife you lunged forward, hurting your back in the process.

"Get off of me BASTARD."

As soon as the knife went through the arm it pulled back, and the portal closed. You didn't have the energy to stand up, not to mention your back and ankle were stinging. It seemed whoever that was got through the skin on your ankle.

With constant bleeding from your face and now your ankle. You knew you had little time before you would pass out from blood loss. Reaching around your back pockets you felt for your phone. Pulling it out you saw the screen was cracked, from when you fell on your back. You tried to get it to turn it but it wasn't responding. There was only one option now. The restaurant was nearby. You would have to crawl there, but it was better than passing out, or dying. You started trudging through the wood chips, and then the grass and dirt. You finally made it to the door and banged tiredly. You would have to set the alarm off to get your bosses attention. Since he gave you off for the week he was most likely covering your shift. Regardless, you needed someone.. Anyone.

Letting out yells you continued to hit the door on the glass. Whether it was out of necessity, or a last ditch effort. You thought of what Leonard had told you earlier today. Your feelings for Endeavor, the frustration, compassion, even confusion. You let it all out as they flooded through you, and you managed to barely muster the strength to break through the glass. Obviously, the glass covered your arm, but how could it get any worse at this point?

Sooner or later someone would notice you. Leaving your arm through the broken glass panel on the door you rest your head down on the sidewalk. Everything was getting blurry, at least the pain was drifting away.

"What the hell? Who's ther-"

You couldn't recall anything after the familiar voice spoke, and your vision faded to black.

Every pain, insecurity and worry disappeared. For once, everything in your head was blissful. It was almost scary, not feeling anything. Was this what death felt like? For how long would it stay like this?

"Someone.. Anyone.. Please, help me.."

((I'm so embarrassed. I uploaded this yesterday on wattpad but It completely escaped my mind to post it here. Apologies my friends.))

#endeavor #bnha endeavor #mha endeavor #endeavor x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki enji

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lifeseverchanging · 5 years

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MMX #6 (SPOILERS)

Mr. and Mrs. X Issue #6 - The bottle issue we have all been waiting for! I managed to sleep through past the midnight hour this time around but not without waking up at 5:30 a.m. and realizing I should use the small amount of valuable time before the workday began to read this issue! I had wanted to wait until I bought the floppy from my LCS so I can read it from the pages of the book to try to avoid my usual knee-jerk reaction from my groggy sleep deprived reads during the wee hours of the morning. But, yeah right. Like that happened! What? Like I suddenly grew self control? out of NOWHERE? No sir, not I.

Before we begin I want to explain that I am ridiculously emotionally invested in our heroes story. Since I was a child and long since before I could really comprehend what romantic love actually is I had fallen in love with the idea of the kind of love that exists between Gambit and the untouchable Rogue. After the many years of heartache and heartbreak we are witnessing the best times Romy has ever seen as a couple. Their story is being written by a person who truly loves the pair and what that does is makes the expectations incredibly high from the diehard fans. We are the ones who held out hope and turned to fanfic when Romy was barely a memory in the Marvel universe. The hopefuls who kept the torch lit throughout the darkest and most desolate of times and we are a thirsty bunch who won’t let even a drop go to waste.

So away we go! The book opens up at GAMBIT AND ROGUE’S APARTMENT in Manhattan. Bobby arrives to the party on time and is the first guest to Rogue’s dismay.

We can clearly see trouble is lurking ahead from the loft windows.

CAT SPOTTING: I spy with my little eye a Fiagaro and an Oliver and Figaro again!

Rogue takes advantage of Bobby’s on time arrival and terrifies him into helping cut the cheese and refrain from making fart jokes. Our hostess is clearly flustered and behind on schedule when the doorbell rings again... (Loving Gambit’s third party dialogue)

CAT SPOTTING: Remy picks up Figaro and bravely holds him again his shirt (if you have cats you know what I mean) RING SPOTTING: Gambit’s ring, ahh!

Remy’s father, Jean Luc, makes his appearance however Tante does not. Jean Luc drops some foreshadowing of things to come with this comment about Tante demanding a visit from Gambit and Rogue in New Orleans.

Naturally Rogue is utterly sweet to JL (if you have ever read a fanfic by the name of “Treading Water” you will understand why this embrace between Rogue and JL caused me to shudder) and Remy gets all of the blame about the spontaneous wedding not allowing any of his family to be there.

CAT SPOTTING: Figaro Jean states he can’t stay but needed to warn Remy of the pending attack.

aaaand in comes the party crasher.

Love this little moment between husband and wife... “Wild Horses couldn't stop me” - Rogue

@cajuncajole spotted that something was missing. See: RING SPOTTING below

RING SPOTTING:

And the uninvited guests quickly goes back out.

Rooftop fighting ensues where the unknown t’ieves point out that their King doesn’t even recognize his soldiers. This is certainly going to lead us into the Guild issues Kelly has planned after the Mojoverse arc.

Rogue is a complete bad ass who joins the fight up on the roof with no regard to not having her powers but she quickly finds herself in a bind of which Remy helps get her out of. RING SPOTTING: Rogue!

It’s important to note that this scene draws out how well they know one another and why Gambit and Rogue have always made a great team and just how much trust they have in each other.

Love that the card he throws is none other than the QUEEN OF HEARTS (The card he gives to Rogue)

RING SPOTTING: Rogue!

Quite the flashback to X-Treme X-Men days!

Though it doesn’t stop Rogue from becoming infuriated and ready to nip this fight in the bud because they have guests arriving and a party to host!

Rogue is going to have to pull out the big guns and take a much needed break from that collar.

This is now probably my new favorite phrase: HOO BOY! Remy leaps off of the building in his bad-assery ragin’ cajun kind of way.

The comical moment where Laura and Bobby are a witness to his jump while Rogue knocks all of the thieves out with her new powerset. I can already hear the Gambit-only fans being peeved over this but simmer down, they need to get back to their party and this is the quickest way!

Then we have the amazing loft view/party scene.

CAT SPOTTING: Lucifer at the top of the loft, Oliver and Figaro down below watching the party goers.

One of my favorite moments of the party scene was certainly when Bishop retells the pie story and Rogue corrects him on the type of pie it was (she baked Boysenberry!). I also loved when Remy threatens to push Kitty out the window while standing directly behind her as Lorna, Jean and Angel were discussing how impressive Remy’s amazing rooftop jump was.

Sidenote: TIL Bobby is cheap. I truly wish we had focused more on the party in this issue but alas we move along to the party winding down (Remy threatening Bobby not to freeze anything - I wonder what exactly?) when suddenly Belle pops in as an invited guest. I can’t say unexpected because because we all saw the preview and knew it was coming but Remy certainly did not see it coming. She’s there to warn him that the Guilds are after his crown after he married the “Princess o' all tings good an’ honorable”. Remy defends his new bride against his ex wife however Belle won’t be deterred and has the balls to let him know exactly how she feels. I noticed Remy didn’t close the door in spite of her presence.

I wasn’t a fan of the scene where Remy looks like a little kid who just got scolded but this last shot was lovely... and it transcends into the next scene where we find an upside down Rogue in the fetal position taking a much needed break from that collar.

Speaking of unexpected... Magneto pays Rogue a visit. Though it makes no sense why Rogue summoned him at all it is incredibly unclear as to when she contacted him.

This panel got a lot of people talking... some were mad (raises hand), some didn’t mind or care at all (mainly due to the fact that there was no real sense that these two have romantic feelings for one another) and others are claiming this is proving Rogue still loves Mags and trusts him more than Remy. (Bullsh*t)

Listen, aside from the obvious parallel Kelly was going for with the “Exes” the main problem with this scene is that she makes it seem as if Rogue doesn’t trust Remy. It makes her look as if she will confide in a person like Magneto over her husband, her best friend and partner in life. After mulling over this GD scene for about 48 hours I finally did some real soul searching to make sense of this panel. Kelly knows that continuity should not be ignored so I think she felt compelled to make an attempt to shut that R and Fapneto ship door as best as she could.

Did this moment belong in this particular issue? I think not... I feel as if this panel was removed and more party panels were shown people would have loved the hell out of this issue. I think Kelly really didn’t want to leave the ex situation one-sided and she felt as if she needed to prove that the only thing left between the two of them is friendship.

Like it or not, Rogue is the kind of person who wants to stay friends with people that matter/mattered to her. DO most of us feel the need to stay friends with our exes? NOPE. Do some? SURE. The point is that we as humans are complex creatures who do stupid things from time to time. People are pissed because Rogue is naive enough to call on her ex around a time she ought to be embracing her new marriage/husband instead of confiding in her old friend (and boy do I mean “old”). Rogue is the kind of idiot who would feel the need to apologize to the man she shot down that she didn’t tell him about her wedding in person but there is also probably some need for her to confirm that he has drifted back to the darkside because as a friend she would care about that too.

The upside? There was no hint of romantic love between the two of them. Magneto for once isn’t bad mouthing Gambit and is in fact saying good things about him. Rogue SAYS IT ON PANEL that she does not want to scare off Gambit with her warped powers. She even gushes to Mags about Remy’s approach of their relationship... smells like nothing but friendship to me. There was no hint of jealous ex talk in anyway but some folks will never be convinced. Anyway, with Mags out of the way I can only hope he won’t make any further appearances in this book because he’s the reason I quit reading comics in the first place and I don’t want him anywhere near our newlyweds. Ever again.

Rogue’s comment above about not being sure how many more surprises she can take is what makes the moment when Mags shows up seem like she hadn’t called on him right then and there. (~B’s 2 cents) Then of course she runs (literally) into Beast who provides her with another surprise. A pleasant one. (lol, love Gambit’s playing cards in the closet... I sure hope he buys in bulk from Amazon). RING SPOTTING: Rogue (yeah I just love seeing the rings)

Beast comes through for Rogue and makes her a new and improved power inhibitor tennis bracelet. You know she was totally kidding about the design but good ol’ Beast doesn’t know any better. Whatever, it works and is a much needed upgrade from that collar that made Rogue look like a poor puppy. The concerned expression on Beast’s face as he embraces her does make me worry a bit. Or maybe it’s just sympathy that Rogue has to be confined to a power inhibitor at all.

The look on their faces. Yeah, hosting is a shit ton of work especially when exes show up. How exhausting!

I loved the moment between Remy and Rogue here that they both acknowledge that they need to talk (Hoo Boy, don’t they!?) but that it can wait... you know, for science reasons.

Unfortunately they spot a gift they had missed... (speaking of spotting - CAT SPOTTING: Lucifer!)

... and they’re immediately warped into Mojoverse. I thought it was funny that Kelly took a stab at herself with the last page. Ahhhh, those uniforms... In my perfect version of this book we would not have addressed the Magneto thing so soon (but I am glad it’s out of the way) so we could have had a little more party and an indication that the newlyweds get a moment to test out that new bracelet *wink* before jumping right into the next crazy arc with Mojo. All in all the bottle issue of MMX was a fun one that had a lot of fun callbacks to the past (some not so fun) and the change of art was a breath of fresh air! (even if Rogue wasn’t the most flattering - at least Belle looked gorgeous). THINGS I LOVED: Cats and Rings! Gambit and Rogue’s fancy loft Seeing the X-Men party Silly humor Rogue got her new power inhibitor bracelet THINGS I DIDN’T LOVE: Magneto

I think Kelly has a game plan that is not entirely visible at the moment but I’m ready to dive into whatever it is she has in store for all of us next.

MMX #7 is out the first week of January!

#Kelly Thompson #David Lopez #mr and mrs x #mrandmrsx #gambit and rogue #rogue and gambit #Marvel Comics #romy

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neokollection · 6 years

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NSFW A - Z ㅡ Taeyong (M)

Taeil - Johnny - Taeyong - Yuta - Kun - Doyoung - Jungwoo - Lucas

**Suggestive, Mature**

A - Aftercare

He’s great at aftercare! He’s so caring and attentive, even if he’s tired, there’s never a time that he’s not taking care of you after. He’ll clean you up with a warm towel if he made a mess, ask if you’re hungry or thirsty, tired or sore, etc... He’ll do whatever he can, but usually all you want is for him to crawl beside you and snuggle. He’s a great snuggler, peppering kisses on your nose and all before settling in the crook of your neck and drowsing off.

B - Body Part [ their favorite body part on their s/o and/or on them ]

I mean... your lips... They smile beautifully when your happy or excited, pout when you want his attention, smirk when you’re playful, puckered when kissed... When they’re swollen and abused it’s his favorite, they’re flushed their natural shade and form a natural pout when pulling away- They’re addictive and sweet and please him in so many ways, in so many places, how can he not love them. On himself- maybe his hands. Honestly, he finds them manly and sexy which is something he’s proud of- Not to mention he knows you like them! He can do so many things with them, playfully pinch your lips, get his fingers tangled in your hair, touch you, etc...

C - Cum

He’s not a messy person, but when it comes to pleasure I think he’s messy. He doesn’t care where it goes, on you, on himself, etc... He’ll put in the work of cleaning after the deed. As long as it doesn’t get in anyone’s eye it’s chill.

D - Dirty Secret

Hentaiiii, but then again he was caught by you, so not sure if it’s considered a secret...

E - Experience [ how experienced they are ]

Um, well, in the kissing department he’s a very capable young man, master of many secrets of the trade- Probably better than Jaehyun- If we’re talking about sexing: experienced. He’s got it down what to do, knows what most women do and don’t like, knows a few secret spots, etc... But there’s still plenty he could learn and a lot he has wanted to try with kinks, but has never been able to-

F - Favorite Position

Doggy- When he tops he like this one because he can be selfish. He can use you to please himself, nails biting your skin as he hurriedly thrusts from behind. Not having to give you any special treatment for once. He’s also a bottom boy tho, and for that he obviously loves cowgirl. He can see everything and access it all and has an inkling of control he’d be able to use if needed.

G - Goofy

More serious during sex, but when fluffy he can be a little giddy. He derives his energy from other people, so it depends on your mood and if you’re goofy during moments like this.

H - Hair [ how well they manscape ]

Just the basics, probably just trims so it’s not too wild.

I - Intimacy [ romance-wise ]

Super romantic! V emotional boy. It’s love-making after all ^^ Even after rawing you from behind he’ll be gentle after, collapsing to the sheets with you and drawing your face to his chest as his hand reaches between your legs to give you more attention.

J - Jack Off

He does pretty often, he tries to keep it for when he’s in the shower, thinking of new Whiplash lyrics, but I mean he’s done it in the park bathroom too so. He just gets random urges occasionally and it doesn’t help when he starts thinking about you or when he’s brainstorming lyrics... Ultimately thinking about you again-

K - Kink

Possibly slight exhibitionist Masochist - he doesn’t have the heart for sadism and is far too vulnerable to you, he likes literally anything you do to him, even if he shouldn’t- I mean he likes the collars and chains and rope bunny shit, but he’s not sure if that’d be considered a kink.

L - Location [ their favorite place to have sex ]

Bed? Every place is enjoyable to him, so I don’t think he has a favorite... But he has to admit, bed is most comfy.

M - Motivation [ turn-ons ]

Basically if you’re needy. Or when you’re cheeky and within close proximity- Revealing clothes, for sure. And if he’s already playful, being a bit stern with him, even if it’s saying his name in a tone because he’s about to be in trouble- He like pushing your buttons some times, swearing you’re so hot like this- So... womanly; and either then wants to reduce you to a puddle of stammering filth or have you show him who the boss is & dominate him.

N - NO [ turn-offs ]

No sharing, he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else touching you like he does or having your attention. But maybe it’d b a good lesson for Jaehyun to watch so he can learn whose you are

O - Oral

Giving; it’s not something he does every time, but it’s something he enjoys. He likes the taste of you and the intimacy of it, usually being quite sensual with the laps of his pink tongue. Receiving; he’s so noisy, it’s hard to hold back and when he does you get chuffed groans and heavy breathing still. He’s a moaner and you’ll probably think he’s overreacting, but it means so much to him. The intimacy is so close, and it feels fucking amazing so- He’s never one to force you tho and will keep a gentle hand on your cheek, fingers curling into your hair.

P - Pace

Knife-like?? His dancing is pretty similar to his thrusting, I mean those hips don’t lie. When the mood is right he keeps it sensual and fluid, channeling a bit of 7th Sense choreo- Slowing things down a lot. Other times he’s a rowdy fuck and pumping into you like there’s no tomorrow, it’s ridiculous.

Q - Quickies

Yep. He’s chill with them and is smart enough to find good places you guys wouldn’t get caught. I mean it’s a bit hard to keep down his volume, but he can resort to busying himself with your lips and gentle hisses.

R - Risk [ comfort zone ]

He’s not about to be caught, so even in a public setting he’ll make sure doors are locked and there’s an escape route if needed. If those are not available he’ll hold it or just ask for head or something quick- He doesn’t like strangers or the boys seeing you or him when vulnerable, aka tits and dick out, but small things he’d feel 40% less embarrassed about so he may be a little risky asking for head and touching, etc... It’s kinda exciting.

S - Stamina [ another round? ]

After round #1 he needs time... He’s worn out- I would say 90% of the time there is no #2. Srry TY, you outed yourself your practice vids

T - Toy [ their favorite toys ]

O boy- I’m not sure why, but my mind just said bottle opener.......... Stuff like handcuffs and collars are pretty hot to him- Also...... cock rings???

U - Unfair [ how they enjoy teasing & being teased ]

When teasing; he’s a whole dickhead, but he still has some redeeming qualities. He teases in the most unfair ways when it’s finally his turn to be in control and some times you feel flustered and humiliated by him- but even tho he sets impossible rules, he’s one to give into you easily. Maybe a few needy kisses or pleads and he’s already burying his face into the crook of your neck and letting up. When being teased......... He’s a fucking mess, but he loves it. He trusts you, so he know he’ll be rewarded in the end, that he’ll eventually cum. The climb and all the teasing is what builds it for him and even tho he hisses and throws his head back when you pull off him, the next time you’re on him makes it all the more pleasing. He doesn’t mind pleading either, he’ll beg if you want him to or if he feels he has to.

V - Volume

Big moaner. He keeps a pretty even volume most of the time, trying not to go about ‘indoor-volume’, does a lot of quiet and breathy talk, moans, and hisses... But when you suddenly do something he may raise it a lot or moan for the neighbors to hear, so be careful.

W - Wild Card [ authors choice ]

His tip is the most sensitive. You could be yanking his shaft, but as soon as your tip meeting your tongue his eyes roll back. In fact, you could make him cum with just his tip, fingers encircling and squeezing, tongue teasing. It’s the kill shot, for sure.

X - X-Ray [ what kind of package ]

Check the 3rd gif here

Y - Yearning [ sex drive ]

High- I mean look at the shit he writes on the daily and makes public.

Z - Zzz [ after ]

After making sure you’re taken care of, he usually takes about 30 minutes or so to fall asleep. I mean he’s tired, but his heart is still racing and his mind too. He snuggles against you, finding a comfortable spot, maybe moving once or twice, exchanging a few murmurs about it being hot or smthng before silence takes over and it’s just your breaths... Then he’s able to pass out.

#taeyong care package #taeyong #nct #nct smut #nct a-z #taeyong a-z #taeyong smut #taeyong imagine #nct imagine

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spudandemdotravels-blog · 5 years

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Vietnam - Episode 1 - Hanoi, SaPa

Hullo!

After deciding that Thailand was our favourite country of the trip so far, we were both sad to be leaving and excited for the next leg of our journey. Thailand has really been amazing, and although we had to forego Nepal we feel lucky to have been able to explore the north and south of the country. Spud in particular found himself eating humble pie early on after his preconceptions of Thailand being super touristy and too ‘western’ were swiftly quashed. Em approached with a more open mind, but was also pleasantly surprised at just how welcoming the people were, how good the food was, and how beautiful the country was in general.

After our last breakfast with Drew and Carol we jumped in our taxi that was to take us to what was a very confusing Phuket City International Airport. Thankfully our driver was a patient man and after circling the airport trying to decide which terminal we needed we checked in and boarded our flight to Bangkok. All went smoothly up until the point that our luggage didn’t arrive for 45 minutes after we reached baggage collection. Seemingly the porters had decided to leave all rucksacks until last, which resulted in us having to sprint through the airport to check into our next flight on time. Emily did a double take when the hostess at checkout said the gate closed at 3pm and the watch said 5 past! With 5 minutes since the gate closed, we pushed our luck as we were REALLY HANGRY and picked up a milkshake and some sandwiches before boarding. Nevertheless we boarded by the skin of our teeth (Em blamed Spud for this after he boldly ordered a toasted sandwich which we had to wait for) and were finally on the way to Hanoi!

We arrived in Hanoi old quarter at around 7:30pm, and we could tell straight away that we were going to enjoy ourselves here. The old quarter is a hive of activity that has a friendly atmosphere where tourists and locals mingle together. We were fairly tired from the days travelling, so after checking into our Lantern Dorm hostel we nipped out for a DIY BBQ beef dinner and a beer before calling it a night.

The next day was put aside for walking the city. We chose to cover the old quarter and some of its markets, as well as the Imperial Citadel which was kind of a heritage site cross war museum as it was used as a strong hold during conflicts. We covered about 13km of the city, which was plenty given that you seriously have to have your wits about you to preserve your life when crossing a road because of all the traffic heading in basically all possible directions (including the pavements...who says you should wait at a red light anyways!?). We finished our day with a meal at the New Day restaurant which was recommended to Em by her friend Rachel (top tip!). We ended up in a room with no windows and only cushions on the floor with a low table, which added to what was a really nice experience.

On our final day in the city we targeted the French quarter and had considered a couple of the museums, but unfortunately early on our card was swallowed by an ATM. We had a mini panic and then pulled ourselves together and arranged collection upon our return from Sapa in a few days time. It wasn’t an ideal solution but the bank was closed given that this was on a Saturday, and we had to come back to Hanoi anyway before moving on to Halong Bay. We were feeling a bit down by this point, but had spotted a good deal for a camera lens that we had been considering for a while. So, to cheer ourselves up we treated ourselves to an early Christmas present and then spent the rest of the day walking the French Quarter before a water puppet show in the evening. The water puppet show was fun but pretty bizarre - different rural scenes are portrayed with puppets who are basically in a small swimming pool.

After the show we spent an hour taking in the huge sense of community in the walking areas near Hoan Kiem lake. It was a Saturday night and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, happy watching groups skipping rope, performing circus skills, dancing and drawing. We couldn’t imagine people in the UK doing stuff like this on the weekend, and although weather is a factor it made us think about how much alcohol is a big part of social gatherings back at home. Here, there were no signs of trouble, drink or drugs to be seen. We found the whole thing slightly alien, but left liking Hanoi that little bit more.

We woke at 5:30 the next morning to catch our bus to Sapa. The coach journey was uneventful and we reached our destination by lunch time. What a contrast to Hanoi! The place felt just like a European ski resort with its alpine chalet type buildings, numerous cosy looking restaurants and stunning mountainous backdrop. It of course had an Asian twist to it though! We were met immediately by a group of 5 native Red Hmong tribe women who were charming but wanted us to buy either clothing or their services for a trek and proceeded to follow us for the next half an hour. So, we dodged into a nearby restaurant for Pho (noodle soup) and a coffee before hiring a scooter so that we could find our Homestay in the neighbouring Cat Cat village. Once we had checked in to our cosy little private room, the temperature had dropped to around 5*C so we wrapped ourselves up in hats, gloves and down jackets and went into town to find some dinner. We ended up eating in an Italian restaurant after the place we had scoped out was closing early for some reason, but the food was great and we had a table next to the wood burner, much to Emily’s delight!

(Below: Our home stay in CatCat Village)

The following day we put our little 110cc scoot through its paces and ventured into the Cat Cat valley to Su Pan, which although is only about 15km away took us the best part of the morning to get to. We stuck to the national roads, but the surface was similar to Laos (mainly non-existent) and was pretty tough going (in particular for Em’s ass sat on the back!). At one point we had to scramble our way past a lorry that had got itself stuck in the middle of a very muddy ford. On the other side Spud was commandeered to ride a French lady’s scoot back across the ford, and after the good deed he was awarded with putting his left foot in ankle deep mud....Once we had got used to the sketchy roads again we enjoyed the day. The scenery was fantastic and we had lunch in a little alpine style restaurant looking out over the mountains. That evening we booked ourselves on a two day trek with a company called Sapa O Chau before returning to a little restaurant Emily had spotted earlier called Good Morning View restaurant, where we had the most amazing meal of local slow cooked home-smoked pork, and sizzling duck accompanied by a local beer for Spud and some delicious plum and apple rice wine for Emily.

Our first day of trekking took us to the villages of Suoi Ho, Matra and Ta Phin which are home to the Hmong and Red Dao minority tribes. We covered around 10km and the trails were great. Not too challenging but off the beaten track enough to satisfy our needs. Similar to the previous day the scenery was amazing, but it was slightly unfortunate for us to miss out on seeing the rice crops before they were harvested in September.

Our Homestay was in a rural part of Ta Phin, and was very authentic. We were greeted by Mr and Mrs May and offered green tea, then it was onto bath time! The Red Dao (local tribe) specialise in herbal medicine - and in particular herbal baths. Having spotted the large wooden tub in the corner of the room, the group were a little trepidatious about who would a) go first and b) go last...it was very clear whether the water was going to be changed in between each person. However, in pairs, Spud and I were ushered into the wash room where two tubs of steaming herbal bath awaited us, so we stripped off and climbed in! Wow, it felt amazing to get into a bath (albeit in a crouched position), letting the steam swirl around us, after 15 minutes, time was up and we made room for the next couple - to their relief the water WAS changed between each person! We were surprised at how un-homely the house was; it had a very utilitarian feel to it and the evening was spent around the basic fire made up on the floor which doubled up as a cooking pit. Traditionally the Red Dao do not use chimney systems in their houses as the smoke helps to dry out rice stores that are kept on the first floor of the property. You can imagine how much we all smelled of food and wood smoke the next day!

(Below: bathtubs ready for healing herbal hot water)

The second day was far easier than the first however we still felt as though we were heading to Sapa ‘the back way’. After a breakfast of more banana pancakes than you could possibly eat and some coffee we watched a bridal procession walk up through the village before heading home from the wedding the night before. We covered approximately 10km with a relaxed lunch stop 3/4 of the way through. We were picked up below Sapa at around 2pm with plenty of time for us all to get back and move onto our next stops. We booked a 4pm bus back to Hanoi which would land us at around 10pm and we decided to stay in the Lantern Dorm again since it had been good the first time and because it was familiar to us. The journey was smooth bar a bum clenching moment where our driver skilfully dodging a bus heading the other direction which veered into our lane. Our driver believed that the other driver had fallen asleep at the wheel. It was at this point that we vowed not to use night buses in Vietnam again!

In some ways our lost card was a blessing in disguise, as it meant we could spend more time in Hanoi. We were able to get our card back early on so had time to visit the Women’s museum, get hair cuts in a tiny barbers on the edge of the Old Quarter, visit a couple of cafe’s to catch up on life admin, and to see the famous street train. We have no idea how people live with a train passing so close to their homes, let alone without barely any warning of the train arriving. We were under a meter from the carriages as it passed by us, and to the locals this was all very normal! Our day was finished with a meal at La Vong restaurant which has allegedly been serving the same recipe for grilled catfish with dill and rice noodles for over 100 years (although we avoided the purple-brown fermented shrimp dipping sauce). It was great to be finishing our time in Hanoi with traditional north Vietnamese cuisine.

Next stop Halong Bay, and then onto Phong Nha national park.

Spud & Em x

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the-record-columns · 5 years

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July 10, 2019: Columns

A 9 year-old jewel named Dresden...

Above right is the cover of the card Dresden presented to Ken Welborn at the Fourth of July celebration in his apartment. Above left is Dresden.

By KEN WELBORN

Record Publisher

As often noted, many days my visitors are the best part of the day. This past Wednesday, July 3, was no exception.

I had just told The Record’s Editor Jerry Lankford I had a couple of errands to run when some folks walked in, a man, woman and young daughter.. After my usual query "Now what brings you folks to our little corner of the world?" an amazing visit began.

They were from St. Petersburg, Fla., and in the Boone area on vacation. The mom, Devon, explained that she spent some summers visiting her grandmother in Boone, and had always enjoyed the mountains, and came back when she could. The man's name was Adolfo, and the daughter was 9-year-old Dresden. They were all three fascinating, but the way Dresden carried herself, confident and at ease well beyond her years, was noticeable. When asked what she was doing during summer, she explained that she wrote poetry, wrote songs, and was an artist—among other things.

They asked a lot of questions, listened patiently to my stories about each artifact, oddity, and, of course, me. These were the kind of people you felt as though you had known for 20 years in 20 minutes. In the process of the conversation, I inquired how long they were going to be around. They said they were renting a little place and would be around a few more days, then wondered aloud where would be a good place to watch the Fourth of July Fireworks around here.

I smiled and said, "Funny you should ask that, because I live upstairs here and bunch of folks are coming tomorrow night to enjoy a picnic dinner, watch the Fire Truck Parade, and then the fireworks at dusk—and you folks will be as welcome as a summer breeze.”

"We'll be there." Devon said, without hesitation.

As they were leaving, Dresden noticed the picture of my late dog, Powder, on the front counter. Of course I showed them the other pictures and told them all about my wonderful dog and my sadness at losing him to cancer about 18 months ago. We talked on a bit about dogs and, as, we said our goodbye's, they reminded me they really would be back to see me on the Fourth.

Ann and Tom Graves and Marilyn Payne were the first to arrive Thursday with loads of food. They kindly set up things and got the place organized for company. I told them that I may have special guests from Florida and they would really enjoy this family. A while later, Ann came and told me that my Florida folks had arrived and I went up front.

By the time I got there, my friend, Carl White, of the syndicated TV show Life in the Carolinas, was already working them, and said that the young girl had something for me. Dresden handed me a card she had made with a drawing of Powder on the front—she had seen that picture of Powder for about two minutes and was able to sketch him for the card. I was so taken aback I could hardly speak, or even read the card. Dresden then read aloud the inside of the card, which was written by her own hand, and in front of a house-full of people she had never seen before. She read with a comfort and ease that would have made any adult proud.

It read:

What we have enjoyed we can never lose; All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.

The bond with a dog is as lasting as the ties of the earth can ever be.

When an 85 pound mammal licks your tears away, then tries to sit on your lap, it's hard to feel sad.

I wanted to cry, I simply could not believe this amazing kindness. Dresden handed the card back to me and hugged me.

What can I add to that except to say: "Thank you from the bottom of my heart," to Devon, Adolfo, and most especially, Dresden, a 9-year-old jewel; for making this a Fourth of July I'll never forget.

The National Anthem: Musical Appropriation at its finest

By HEATHER DEAN

Record Reporter

Now that everyone has come out of their respective holiday weekend hot dog comas, shut down social media with pictures of all the cute kids dressed up in matching patriotic, albeit against flag code, ensembles and gotten back to the grind, let’s talk about the song you’ve been singing all weekend: the United States National Anthem.

You may recall in a column last month in which I talked about a teenager who didn’t know how old our country was, or why we had fireworks for Independence Day.

That face palm moment paled in comparison to the statement last week by an adult about General Washington taking the airports away from the British. Which got me to thinking, if the masses have been so consumed by technology and meme-able moments passing off as “history” that they don’t know what an errant faux pas that truly was, what do they know?

Hopefully, in fourth-grade history you learned that our National Anthem comes from a poem written on Sept. 14, 1814, by 35-year-old lawyer and amateur poet Francis Scott Key. The poem was inspired by the 30-by-42 foot U.S. garrison flag, (currently with 15 stars and 15 stripes, commonly referred to as the as the Star-Spangled Banner), being raised triumphantly that morning above Fort McHenry in Baltimore Harbor after watching the British Navy bombard the bastion.

This was three and a half decades after the motion was approved for the Declaration of Independence to be officially adopted in the Second Continental Congress on July 4th.

Anyway, back to Francis…

Key’s poem, entitled “Defense of Fort M’Henry,” was set to the tune of the Constitutional Anthem from the Anacreontic Society, a London men's social club (read: ridiculously wealthy men with nothing better to do for society than meet to celebrate music, food and drink.) "To Anacreon in Heaven," was popular in the U.S. at the time. Anacreon was a Greek poet from about 570 BC, and noted for his erotic poetry. Renamed the Star-Spangled Banner, it soon became well-known as a patriotic song.

It was not considered the national anthem until1931-the year my grandmother was born- 117 years after it was written, and only then by a congressional resolution signed by President Hoover. Until that time, "Hail, Columbia" (1798), was used for most of the 19th century, then later "My Country, 'Tis of Thee” (1831), which also happens to be an appropriated tune. You may have noticed it’s the same music as the British National Anthem "God Save the Queen.”

As an aside, is anyone else giggling, knowing that our National Anthem was put to the tune of a notoriously bawdy drinking song, knowing what we do about the temperance movement and prohibition?

Did you know our National Anthem has four stanzas? Here are the last three versus.

I’ll expect you to sing it with me at the next ball game.

On the shore dimly seen thro' the mists of the deep,

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream:

'Tis the star-spangled banner: O, long may it wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has wash'd out their foul footsteps' pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave:

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O, thus be it ever when freemen shall stand,

Between their lov'd homes and the war's desolation;

Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land

Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserv'd us a nation!

Then conquer we must, when our cause is just,

And this be our motto: "In God is our trust"

And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

The scales have tipped

By EARL COX

Special to The Record

Those of you who read this column likely know that on November 29, 1947, the UN General Assembly passed the United Nation Partition Plan which made possible the establishment of the State of Israel. However, what was possible in 1947 would be impossible today. The scales have tipped, and they are against Israel.

Following World War II, the United Nations (UN) was created to replace the League of Nations for the purpose of preventing another major conflict. There were four main goals outlined in its charter but boiled down and put into a nutshell, the UN was established to ensure a peaceful future for the world. Initially there were 51 member states. Today there are 193. Many of these “new” member states come from Africa and the Middle East and are primarily Muslim or aligned with the Muslim agenda. The sheer number of these “new” member states stacks the deck against Israel at every vote. While the United States, Israel’s stalwart Western friend and ally, still holds significant sway at the UN, we are not the powerhouse we once were. This has little, if anything, to do with President Trump but everything to do with Islam’s desire to destroy Israel. Furthermore, the majority of these “new” UN member states are members of, or affiliated with, the Non-Aligned Movement known as NAM. What is NAM? It is the umbrella organization for the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC). Is it any wonder that Israel comes under constant and harsh criticism and condemnation by the UN which is more focused on denigrating Israel than it is on human atrocities taking place in other parts of the world such as Libya, Iran, North Korea, Syria and others?

Tiny Israel, the only democracy in the Middle East where its citizens, including its minorities, enjoy freedom and equality, is condemned more than mass-murdering dictatorships. Insanity reigns as Israel is consistently held to a different and higher standard. Yes, the scales are tipped against Israel. She needs friends now more than ever and she’s finding them within the worldwide Evangelical Christian community. We must come together with one loud, pro-Israel, voice. In Joel 3:2 the Bible says, “…there will I deal with and execute judgment upon them for their treatment of My people (the Jews) and of My heritage Israel, whom they have scattered among the nations, and because they have divided My land.” While it is currently considered politically correct to stand against Israel as is evidenced by the rising tide of anti-Semitism and BDS campaigns, we cannot honor God if we fear man. Those who compromise the Word of God are a compromised people indeed and God says He will curse those who curse Israel (Genesis 12:3).

Bagpipes, Tree Tossing and Traditions

By CARL WHITE

Life in the Carolinas

The stimulating sounds of bagpipes filled the air as I made my way from the parking area to the festivities of the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games. I look forward to this annual gathering that celebrates Scottish heritage, which has a significant place in the Carolinas.

In my visits to the Highland Games over the years, I have met many people of interest and learned much about the origins of many of the things that we do in the Carolinas. I've met great story tellers, musicians, shepherds and athletes who enjoy the caber toss, which is the sport of tossing a tapered pole made from a large tree.

The caber is around 175 pounds and just under 20 feet long. The objective is to toss it in such a way that it turns end over end, falling away from the tosser. I have watched many people participate in this activity, and I am convinced that this is not an easy feat. This sport, as well as all the others in the games, is done while wearing fashionable kilts with colored patterns that are synonymous with the wearers' family names.

It was several years ago at the Highland Games that I met the talented Joseph and Laralyn RiverWind. They were at a music exhibit that featured beautiful flute and harp music. It was from them that I learned about the term "Blessed Blend." In short, it was said that many years ago a Scotsman met a Native American woman and fell in love with her. This was at a time when such a relationship would not have been looked at in a good way. However, in this case the fellow must have had a friend in the Church, because before long the joining of a Scotsman with a Native American woman was proclaimed to be a "Blessed Blend," and so it has been from that time.

The thing that I enjoy most about the Highland Games, other than the fact that it is held in an amazing setting of nature, is that its purpose is to preserve, celebrate and learn from history. It's a bit like having a solid foundation to stand upon. It is not about being perfect, and it's not about being right and everyone one else being is wrong. If you look at Scottish history you will see that it is made up of different thoughts and ideas within its own heritage. As with most cultures, the clans (families) did not always get along with each other, but for sure they were all Scottish, and through the years a core group of people have kept the heritage and traditions alive.

I recall first meeting photographer Edgar Payne at the Highland Games. I have met governors, diplomats and royals at the games. I have meet people with great beards and people with scotch to share.

Scottish games are also held in other parts of the Carolinas, and some folks say they enjoy the smaller gatherings more because they are not as crowded. I actually enjoy both, but I do lean toward the energy that comes from the larger gathering at Grandfather Mountain.

I love the idea of our melting pot. However, I believe that there are ingredients within our American stew that have a noticeable flavor. The Scottish influence is certainly one of those ingredients that provides a wonderful contribution; it also blends well with others.

I'm not sure if it's the magic of the mountain air or the alluring power that has developed after 60 years of the gatherings being held at MacRae Meadows on Grandfather Mountain that makes this such an enjoyable event. I’ve never worn a kilt, but if it were the only way to get in, I just might.

Carl White is the executive producer and host of the award-winning syndicated TV show Carl White’s Life In the Carolinas. The weekly show is now in its seventh year of syndication and can be seen in the Charlotte viewing market on WJZY Fox 46 Saturdays at 12:30am. You can also watch episodes on Amazon Prime For more on the show visit www.lifeinthecarolinas.com, You can email Carl White at [email protected].

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theslayover · 5 years

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A typical day at MIA

After a hectic 48 hours back in Miami to visit a sick relative, I have a 6:21 p.m. flight back to San Francisco. At 4pm my mother- who is stressed from work and having her mother-in-law in the hospital for a myriad of symptoms that could only make sense in an episode of House- decides the dishes in the sink need to be cleaned. And the counter cleaned. And the magazines arranged. I help where I can but try not to push the woman, whose (and I preface this with my mom is the best mom ever) fuse is so short when she’s stressed it’s almost mythical.

We finally leave around 4:25pm. The normally 20 minute journey is now between 30 and 40 minutes, apparently because they’ve closed one highway, there’s going to be a basketball game, and because Miami cannot go a day without at least 57 accidents. I wouldn’t generally care but in the back of my mind I’m slightly concerned as my roll-aboard is full of precious cargo: malanga and calabaza that I need for my abuela’s famous caldo recipe and that I cannot get in San Francisco. I can’t imagine I’m violating some random agricultural rule but #Florida.

Using a combination of Waze, Google maps, my mother’s incorrect intuition and prayers we finally make it to the airport after 5:00pm and my flight boards at 5:40pm. On top of it all, I really wanted to get a cup of coffee before the flight. This sounds like a 1st world problem, however:

1) I had a lot of work to do and needed to make the most of the 6-hour flight.

2) Airplane coffee tastes like a young coffee who had all his hopes and dreams in front of him until his parents died and he ended up in the foster system, bounced around house to house cared for by people who only saw him as a paycheck, and then eventually turned to a life of gang violence and drugs.

I try not to be too stressed, reminding myself that I have both CLEAR and TSA pre-check.

I run to the security checkpoint and wiz through with CLEAR. No problem. Then the associate informs me that pre-check is closed. It’s 5 goddam pm. The airport is mobbed, why? I’m handed a blue card that allows me to keep my shoes on through security but for the most part I’m stuck in the long, regular security line with throngs of people, all whom from their behavior I can only assume have never flown before. I feel rage surge inside me and think how Miami is a 3rd world country when it comes to logistics. But no, Lauren. You meditated today. You practice A Course in Miracles. How can you judge this way? I breathe deeply and repeat today’s mantra and tell myself it’ll be ok.

The gentleman next to go through the metal detector steps through. BEEP BEEP BEEP goes the machine. He forgot to take off his belt. For fuck’s sake. He strips it and steps through and BEEP BEEP BEEP I hear again. His wallet. Blessed be. He steps through once more and BEEP BEEP BEEP. The security guard lets him through. Wait what. A mixture of relief and alarm rush over me at once. Please tell me what they missed wasn’t a concealed weapon in his boxers. It’s 5:20pm.

The next gentleman goes through and BEEP BEEP BEEP. My metaphysical ears bleed.

I finally make it past all the First Time Flying Club’s members and a Portuguese family of 4 who have every iPad and child electronic imaginable, set my bags on the x-ray, tear out my laptop- one of the cons of Diet Pre-check- and I go through the metal detector. I set the fucking thing off. Thanks Cartier Love bracelet. I tell the confused TSA associate the bracelet is literally screwed onto my wrist (I feel so stupid saying this aloud...this is why women make less) and make my way to the higher security machine. I make it through without a hitch and run to the conveyor with my bags in time to see the man running the X-Ray pull my roll-aboard to the side for a bag check. Of course. It’s just before 5:30pm and I stand in silent horror as the man who is to perform bag searches decides to pick up every bin off of the conveyors before conducting the search. But I know better than to rush him, as then he’ll also decide to go back to school and get a medical degree before helping me.

He finally decides it’s time to actually make sure my bag doesn’t have a bomb in it. I walk over to the examination area and anxiously wait as he open my suitcase. He unzips the side area inside my Away bag and he pulls out a bag of coffee. Oh. That’s what set off the alarm. Of course. But as he’s pulling it out he sees the calabaza. I explain to him in Spanish “It’s calabaza and I need it for my grandmother’s caldo recipe,” have laughing half pleaing (please God not the calabaza). He seems pretty un-phased. He goes to search the other side of my bag, saying the machine saw something else solid. “Pan?” (bread) he asks. But then he finds the malanga. “You’re taking all of Miami back with you!” he says. “It’s for my grandmother’s recipe, I can’t find this in San Francisco, Mexicans don’t really cook with malanga!” I exclaim. He places the malanga back in my suitcase, looks at me seriously and says “I bet Mexicans have never seen a malanga.” I didn’t have time to contemplate the strange cultural burn. I thanked him profusely and dashed to my next stop. 5:35pm.

I get to the Starbucks line, which is blessedly short. Three people head of my and about 5 minutes till boarding. The next person approaches the register and places an order, and the cashier gives them the total. The person looks at the cashier, seemingly surprised that they have to pay and only then starts to rifle through their bags looking for a wallet.

It’s always been pet peeve for my father and I when a person will stand in and go through an entire line and only after ordering do they start to look for money. I can’t stand wasting people’s time and you think at an airport this would be less common but this is MIA, and it’s clearly everyone’s first time flying.

I make it to the gate just at the start of pre-boarding (because nothing is on time in Miami), at about 5:45. I walk onto the plane panting, coffee and bags in hand. I think of all those photos of celebrities and influencers who travel through airports looking so adorable. Do they actually look like that, or do they take stock photos at various airports and just load them when they go on a trip?

The pilot’s voice on the PA interrupts my #lifehack idea: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are already to take off here but we’ve just been alerted that someone must have removed one of the covers of the floor emergency exit signs, and the bulb has also been destroyed. We are contacting Maintenance now and will be back to you shortly with a fix update. As you know with the latest airline incidents (thank Boeing) we are all being extra cautious.”

I’m overtaken by mixture of laughter and disbelief; thoughts raced through my head:

“Of course after all that, we ‘d be delayed anyway.”

“This has got to be the craziest reason for a delay I’ve experienced”

“I’m pretty sure if we are going down, my inability to find one of the 40 emergency exit signs will not save us.”

“This might be the first time I could understand anything the pilot said over the PA.”

Passengers start to deplane, anxious to get on a different flight in hopes of making connections or at least to yell at gate agents, who will undoubtedly out IDGAF them 10:1.

After texting and sharing a few laughs with family and friends via text, I decide I might as well start working so I can get most of it out of the way before I get too tired. I reach for my backpack to take out my laptop- and realize I’ve left it at security.

Being a veteran of pre-check I NEVER take my laptop out of my bag anymore. With the scare of getting my roll-aboard searched, I forgot to replace it after it came out of the X-Ray. I run to the front of the plane and tell the flight attendants I don’t want to cancel this flight but only need to grab my laptop. Thankfully since people were deplaning anyway, I was able to get off.

I raced down the terminal, the sound of my flip flops drawing stares and snickers as they watched a small woman in a maxi dress race across a terminal. Of course my gate was the farthest. I got to security gasping for air. Through my lungs loudly fighting for life, I explained to the TSA agents my plight. They had my laptop and let it go before I managed to log into it, I suppose they figured no one would purposely steal a 12 pound, soiled HP.

I raced back down the terminal and gasping even more loudly, got back onto the plane. My seatmate saw me and gave me a silent “yay!” as I walked down the aisle. I plopped myself ever so gracelessly onto the seat, breathing (panting) a sigh of relief. The pilot’s voice comes back over the PA: “ladies and gentlemen, I really apologize but we don’t know how long it’s going to be, so we are going to go ahead and deplane.” Motherfuck.

The rest of the evening consisted of other fun things like finding out that all the other United planes at the airport were some other type of Boeing, and our plane had a slightly different size of emergency exit cover, finally bumming one off an American Airlines plane (the one good thing that airline has ever done for me), and then taking off 2 and 1/2 hours later.

This sounds like a crazy, stressful day and it kind of was. But in situations like these I’ve found that when you find yourself stressing and adamant that something has to work a certain way, and your actions become reactive, anxious and impatient, that’s when things really go wrong. Being worked up has made me forget things (like my laptop), gotten me into fender benders, arguments and in the end, nowhere. Even in times when I’ve gotten what I wanted after seemingly swimming against the universe’s current, it’s never been as good as I thought.

When you think of it, if the plane hadn’t been delayed, I would’ve realized the laptop was missing when we are already in the air. There was no WiFi on that flight (ah United), so I would’ve been fit to be tied for SIX HOURS not being able to work on the presentation for the next day, not being able to tell anyone, wondering if it was stolen etc. My mom’s and my drive to the airport was stressful navigating and we didn’t really get to enjoy our last moments together.

So if my crazy/ funny story can help you take a step back before your brain Hulk’s out, my job here is done. And when you feel ready to see how enlightened you are, make sure you fly out of Miami.

#slayover #consultinglife #miami #unitedairlines #travel

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feraldabi · 5 years

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A Card Tells What The Heart Feels

A/N: This is the sequel to Home Is Where The Heart Is & created when i was first starting out lmfaoooo

AO3

Steve and Peter Stark-Rogers are dressed in their pajamas and are sitting on the velvet sofa in front of the television on the communal living room floor. The television wasn't on, but they did stare at the blank screen. They're contemplating what to get Tony. You see, today's Father's Day, and it's Tony's turn since Steve's was last year. But, they couldn't figure out what they should get for Tony. What are you suppose to get for a man who could get anything in the world with the snap of his fingers?

A shirt? No, because he could have custom ordered shirts made of silk.

A car? No, because a) to expensive and b) he already has beautiful looking cars.

So, as you can see, they're in a bit of a dilemma.

Peter sighs heavily, cradling his face with the both of his hands on his cheeks. "My brain's hurting, Papa!" Peter states with frustration. Steve groans in agreement with his son. "Mine too, pal." He runs a hand through his hair, and then down his face.

"You know what we need," Steve questions while getting up and fixing his comfortable and worn Iron Man shirt and black pajama bottoms. Peter brightens up a bit, choosing to watch his Papa instead of following. "What do we need?" Steve pads to the kitchen on bare feet which is adjacent to the living room and opens a cupboard. He brings out a bag of white powdered doughnuts and two glasses which he fills with milk. "We need brain food."

Peter whoops and runs to the island counter to eat the 'brain food'. He almost falls due to the slippery soles of his Hulk footie-pajamas. Soon enough, Steve and Peter find themselves stuffing their faces with white powdered doughnuts and gulping down milk like starved animals. Once satisfied they just sit at the island counter laughing at each other because both of their faces are covered in powder. Steve wets a napkin and wipes Peter's face clean; he does the same thing to himself with the help of Peter.

The doughnuts go back in the cupboard, and the two glasses to the sink. Steve sits back down and looks at Peter with determination. "Alright, bud, we need a plan of attack. Daddy's coming home at 1530 (3:30) hours from his shopping spree with Natasha, and we've lazed for two hours because it's now 1230 (12:30) hours. We've just eaten some 'brain food', so we should be able to do this."

Peter balls up his hands while nodding enthusiastically. He pauses momentarily before stopping altogether. His eyes go bug-eyed, and his lower lip protrudes. "But, Papa," Peter begins," what if we can't find anything to get Daddy?" Steve gives Peter a small smile and ruffles his mop of toffee brown hair. "Don't worry, champ. We'll figure something out." Peter gets that glint in his eyes that shows how happy he is which makes Steve just as happy as well.

They will figure out what to get Tony, no matter what.

They continue to sit on the chairs by the island counter letting the time fly by. They both voiced out ideas, but always rejected the idea because Tony could easily buy it himself. Slowly but surely, they began to lose hope until Steve remembers something. He tells Peter to wait for him in the kitchen, and he dashes off towards his room, nearly slamming into the door because he's going so fast. He returns quickly as he left and drops art supplies on the island counter.

"Instead of buying him something we could make him something instead!" An overly eager Steve says. Peter's lips form an 'O' shape before forming into a bright smile. An earnest nod from him shows Steve that he likes the idea. They promptly get to work.

They decided on making a card. A card with drawings and words of endearment. Peter did all the drawings even though his aren't up to par with his Papa's drawing skills, but he wanted to make this card all by himself as much as possible. He did get help with the writing portion because an eight-year old can only spell as good as he can sound out. (That means that words like 'adore' became 'adoor'.)

It was fifteen minutes until 1530 (3:30) hours, and they had successfully finished the card. The cover was a 3-D style lettering that said,'HAPPY DADDY'S DAY!!' When opened the left side had slop-ish writing on it, and the right side had a drawing.

The left side says:

Dear Daddy, Why are you so hard do find a gift for? Papa and me I had went over millions, MILLIONS of ideas until we thought of a card. Papa says it's kinda cliche, but it'll melt your heart. Will your heart really melt 'cause I don't want that to happen?! I just wanna say that Papa and I adooradore you, Daddy! It's a cinnamon synonym of love! And, we love you lots!

-Love Peter & Steve

The right side drawing is a drawing of Peter and Steve on ladders throwing hearts at a smiling Tony, who's in between them. On the back is drawing showing a group hug with Tony in the middle and Steve and Peter on the other sides of him, and they all had silly grins on their faces. Steve beams proudly at Peter's creation and fondly hugs his son.

At 1530 (3:30) hours Tony comes striding in, spouting off about how he'll never go shopping with Natasha ever again, and why did he even agree to go shopping with the she-devil?! He'll never know. He stops when he sees his partner and son huddling by the island counter. He cocks his hips and raises an eyebrow. "What's going on here?" He asks while pointing at Peter and Steve, who currently look like deer caught in headlights. Peter and Steve smile brightly at Tony and in union say,"Welcome home!" Peter darts towards Tony and embraces his Daddy in a hug. Tony hugs back with a tight squeeze and looks at Steve. "So?" Steve shrugs his shoulders, simply pointing at Peter.

Peter takes a step back and presents the homemade card to Tony. He smiles cheekily has he hands the card off. Tony takes the card; he examines it carefully. Tony gets a big, genuine smile on his face when he's done looking the card over. He grabs Peter and hugs him tightly. He splays kisses all over a giggly Peter's face. A final kiss is placed on Peter's head. Peter stares at Tony from underneath his lashes. Peter mumbles,"Did you like it?"

Tony gives Peter a toothy smile and lifts him up and swings him around. "Did I like it you say? I love it! Thanks, Peter." He sets Peter down on the ground and points at Steve. "I'll show you how much I love this card later." Tony winks when he sees Steve get a rosy hue to his cheeks. Peter makes a gagging sound in the background. "Ew, that's gross!" Tony pointedly stares at Peter with amusement written all over his face and scoffs. "You say that now but wait until you get older because you won't be saying ew anymore." Peter gags again causing he fathers to chuckle at his antics.

Epilogue:

Peter's snugly tucked into bed, and Steve and Tony can be found in their room. Tony changes from his casual clothes to a men's white tank top and into a pair of Steve's Captain America pajama bottoms. He sits crossed-legged in the middle of the bed holdings the card Peter made him. He smiles warmly at the card.

Tony looks to his left and sees Steve exiting the bathroom still dressed in his pajama clothes. Tony holds up the card in Steve's direction and cocks an eyebrow at him. "Am I really that hard to find a gift for?" Steve crawls on to the bed and sits by Tony. He kisses Tony's cheek affectionately. "The hardest." Tony gently hits Steve's head with the card. "I am not, but what gave you the idea to make me a card?" Steve gives Tony a toothy smile and snatches the card. "Yes, you are, sweetie. And, I remembered seeing a bunch of Peter's drawings taped to the walls of your lab. So, I just thought you would really like a homemade card."

"Well," Tony plucks the card from Steve's hand,"I'll have you know that I do love the card." Steve innocently says,"I do recall you saying something about showing me how much you love the card." Steve bats his eyelashes at Tony. Tony places the card on the nightstand by the bed to his right. He looks back at his tease of a partner. "I’m a man of my word." Steve grabs the front of Tony's white tank top and hauls him closer. Now, they're just a breath apart.

"Show me." Steve challenges.

"Babe, it's going to be a long night because I really, really love that card." Tony answers back hotly.

(They made love all night, just as Tony said.)

#marvel #steve rogers #peter parker #tony stark #captain america #spider-man #iron man #stony #steve x tony #fluff #peter is their son #fanfic #omg this fic is so gotdamn oldalksdfjaskdf #my writing

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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

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Sticking with the Schuylers (34)

(Thank you for waiting so patiently for this-I had a long week that kept trying to knock me down, but luckily I pulled through thanks to optimism and ‘Times are Hard for Dreamers’ on a constant loop. Thank the lord for Amelie).

I love John Laurens, and I love his family, and I know this fic is long but I have like 16 pages of headcanon/development so do with that what you will, I love my fic baby.

(Tagging: @ellzabethschuyler also shoutout to @oosnavi for giving me lots of really good ideas on this one and also killing me with all of the Pippa + children pictures every day.)

This is a Laurens Christmas Eve.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 1112 I 13 14 15 16 17 18A 18B 18C I 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 I 30 31 32 33

There is a clear wall of sound coming from the fifth floor apartment, one they can hear from the moment they reach the stairwell. Alexander chuckles as Eliza’s grip on his hand changes. It's a slight movement, but he's attentive-he turns his head to face her while slowing their pace.

“That's us,” he gestures down the hall, to a row of identical doors. Eliza nods, eyes unchanging and feigning complete comfort. That being said she is good at this-excellent, even. If he hadn't known any better, he would have kept going along. But her breathing has slowed, visibly deep in her chest. The hand he holds in his has begun to pick up a moisture bred by nerves. He's more familiar with the disguised symptoms of anxiety. She is much better at this façade than he is.

“What's wrong?”

“This is a really big deal.”

“It is, it is and if you're uncomfortable-I didn't mean to push this. I know it's a big step and I know it's only been three months and Christmas Eve is kind of huge,”

“-Alex,”

“- but it would have just felt wrong spending it without you, and,”

“-Alexander.” Her hands find his shoulders and she takes a deep breath, a silent instruction for him to do the same. She watches the rise and fall of his chest, his closed eyes, as he comes back down from his ranting. His lips have stopped moving but his mind will not silence itself, flittering back and forth between thoughts of her backing out of this and the warm beauty of her eyes on his. Her lips turn up into a gentle smile and he's instantly relaxed, taking her in from their place at the end of the hall.

“I want to be here-so badly-I’m just a little nervous.”

There was a word she hadn't associated herself with in a while. Especially not around him. Typically, Eliza prided herself in being near professional at social interaction. It was in her blood, her upbringing. Most of her childhood had been spent entertaining crowds of politicians, spinning in brand new Mary Janes and singing sweet Ella Fitzgerald in a birdsong voice while Angelica herded Peggy away from the dessert table. It is what earned her the nicknames of Political America’s Sweetheart or The senate’s daughter. It is what made her Elizabeth Schuyler.

To say she hadn't been nervous a day in her life would be a lie; there were plenty of times-at big events, or when some small brunches-where she'd felt her heart squeeze and convulse, unable to be settled. Each of those times, it was painful. Each of those times, her hand was encased in the cold, tight hold of James Reynold’s grip. There was a suffocation, a death-sentence race of her pulse that lasted well after the event was over.

This nerve…placing a word on it, Eliza stops on butterflies. Although it's incredibly cliché, and she has to internally curse at herself for the immediate and consuming thought of the creatures floating around in her stomach. There is a striking difference, however, in the way they feel. There is no stabbing, or suffocating. The television-static fuzz that accompanies her holds a slight comfort-she knows shes supposed to be here-to be with him. And the way he holds her hands, still on his shoulders, with such a light reassurance…she can pull this type of nerve back. She can breathe with it, let it reside in the home of her body for a bit.

“We can stay here for a minute, if you need to.”

“No, it's alright. Let's go meet your family.”

The wall of sound opens up with the apartment door, and Eliza is immediately wrapped in multiple suffocating hugs. There are exclamations-in lighthearted Spanish, as she's held at arms length by a grouping of gracefully aged older women. And then there's John, who comes barreling over from the other side of the room. He has to weave his way through what seems to be wall-to-wall people, and Alexander breathes out a feigned sour expression as John moves to hug her first.

“Everyone, this is my beautiful best friend Eliza. Oh, and Alex is here too.”

Her name echoes across the room and lights up her smile-she's greeting all kinds of people; aunts, cousins, third relatives…all with a boundless poise and upbeat charisma that blows Alexander away. One of the cousins hands him a drink and before he knows it Eliza has disappeared completely, whisked into the throng of people with her own cup of liquor and arms linked with John’s all-too-eager sisters. John stays with Alexander, taking a pull from his cup before clapping a hand on his back.

“She already fits in better than you did your entire first year.”

“Shut up and get drunk, John.”

“Gladly.” His best friend smirks over the rim of his cup, freckle-dusted cheeks lifting with the expression. He implores Alexander to do the same. He shakes his head.

“Probably shouldn't drink too much-just in case, y’know?” He gestures to the space of the crowd Eliza had disappeared into, worry weaved into a laid-back voice so gently that John barely picks up on it. He rolls his eyes in response, shaking his head and taking another sip. There's a tap on Alexander’s shoulder, and when he turns around he's engulfed in a noogie-accessorized hug.

“Hey man, where's your girl?” Luis is built like a body-builder, much unlike Alexander’s scrawny legs and John’s lean figure. Standing beside the two he towers, with no resemblance between him and his younger and ‘adopted’ brother besides the bountiful crop of freckles that decorate his richly toned skin. Alexander pulls out of his hold, pressing the fabric of his casual knit sweater back into place.

“Not sure-we came in together, but Amaia and Emily stole her.”

“She’s your girl? The one from the magazines?” Alex nods, grinning, before the oldest Laurens let's out a chuckle. “Man, I would've never guessed. How did you manage that one, Hamilton?”

“Only with the charm and brains you failed to inherit, Luis.” John earns a punch in the shoulder for that one, touching the place his brother’s fist had made contact with a wince. It hadn't hurt immensely-or at all-Alex can judge by the way John’s wince barely makes his eyes shut. But he prolongs the contact, long enough for a voice to join their conversation.

“Luis Andreas what did you do to your brother? Do I need to punch you back?”

“No, Mami.”

“I don't know, it really hurts. I think he might've hit an artery or something.”

“Don't be a baby, John. Nobody likes an infant-man.” She turns her attention to Alexander, who's watching the exchange with bemused eyes. Valeria Laurens looks at him with an electric expression-slightly frantic, but always with a mother’s glowing guardianship. He relishes the way that she's begun patching the hole in his heart; the way this crazy, eclectic woman had opened her heart to him. Valeria draws him into a warm embrace, smoothing down his hair.

“And where is this girlfriend of yours? Honestly you talk so much about her to me I thought she'd be sewn to your side!”

“Oh trust me, that's not too far from the truth.” John teases Alex with an intoxication-laden flair, already tipsy. Alex and Valeria wear matching narrowed eyes.

“Knock it off, John. Alex is happy and we should all be happy for him.”

“Like I'm not? He's dating my best friend-Hell, I like her better than him most of the time!”

“I thought I was your best friend!”

“No, Eliza definitely is my best friend now. Sorry Alex, you've been replaced. Actually, I'll go find her. Hang here for a second.” John disappears into the throng of family, leaving Alexander and Valeria hanging by the front door. The moment they're alone she begins chatting-asking questions in such a rapid-fire pace that he can't answer them all in one go. Then, during a string of chatter involving school, her mouth snaps open in a wide ‘o’ shape, her eyes widening to a spot behind him.

A warm hand finds its way onto his shoulder, running down it in gentle motion as her lips meet his cheek. Valeria’s smile widens-Alex hadn't thought it possible.

“You’re Eliza-you're here-god, look at you, you're gorgeous!” She blushes at the compliment, cheeks lifting in an infectious expression as she reaches out her hand.

“It's really nice to meet you, Mrs. Laurens.”

“Oh please don’t call me that, it makes me feel like my mother.” She takes Eliza’s outstretched hand and pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back in the same tender way that she had Alex’s. “Valeria.”

“You have a wonderful home-it’s so full, and you’ve all been so nice. I really appreciate you inviting me, thank you so much.” John looks between his mother and Eliza and shakes his head-in an instant his mother has turned to putty by Eliza’s soft-spoken words. Although he knows that she’s being genuine he nudges Alex’s shoulder, laughing.

“Once again, she charms her way through a room of people in less than twenty seconds. Meanwhile, Kevin still won’t talk to me after what happened with beer pong last year.” A drop of hot sauce, a flipped table…John cringes at the memory. And apparently, Kevin still is, too. The aforementioned second-cousin has refused his company so far, straying away from each part of the room he’d been in. Instead he’d moved to the balcony, where he and Luis had gathered enough people to start some freewheeling card-game the older boys had invented when they were John’s age just to bet their extra cash. It’s stupid, and unnecessary, he thinks as he watches them from the other side of the room. But being invited to their circle wouldn’t hurt.

Valeria Laurens had been blessed with six mouths to feed; three boys and three girls. While the balance was aesthetically perfect, the hurdles continually presented themselves in the form of food fights, the three bedroom apartment feeling over-capacity, and a boy stuck between her girls who hadn’t been happy about it for a long time. John had been a trooper, for the most part. He got along well enough with the girls, who often put ribbons in his short curls and dressed him like their doll. Amaia, a year and a half older than him, was more level about these games. She did, however, egg on Emily. Sweet Emily loved her Irish twin of a brother more than anything; would follow him around, dote on him, and speak the world about him to her friends. As children, John often found her to be annoying or childish. It was, after all, what his brothers would say. But Emily was his confidant-she listened to him more than Amaia ever had time for, never teased him like Luis or Kevin would. She was his favorite sibling-still is, he considers from time to time. While the others were often busy in their own lives (even Mari, who is still in high school and with a bigger social life than all of them combined) John and Emily found favor in each other’s company. She was never too busy to talk to him. She was always there-just as she always had been.

When the door to their apartment swings open, and Emily Laurens is able to catch a glimpse of the newcomers over the tops of everyone’s heads, she’s the first to make her way to the door. There is a scowl painted on her full lips and she grabs for her older sister’s arm as she flies by her, pressing hard with the tips of her fingers to pull her along. Amaia yelps, running along and crashing into shoulders and backs as apologies fly from her mouth rapid-fire.

“What are you doing?” She hisses at her younger sister. Emily huffs, stopping in her tracks to pull her aside, hands waving wildly as she speaks.

“Did you not see who’s here?”

“Yeah, and?” She glances over at the door, where their ‘adopted’ brother and his girlfriend are being smothered with hugs. The interaction is long, and busy-but Eliza seems to handle it well, eyes moving from person to person with an unfaltering smile upon her face. Amaia feels her own lips turn up, a subconscious mirror of the expression. Emily scowls.

“Don’t you think we should go and say something to her?”

“Are you trying to steal her from Alex or something? I mean I know she’s pretty, but,”

“-no! I mean yeah she’s pretty, of course she’s pretty, but,” The younger sister’s face is immediately covered in a light scarlet blush, one that consumes her features before leaving with the shake of her head. “That’s not the point. The point is that she kind of stole Alex from John.”

“But Alex isn’t gay”

“-in a way. In a way, she replaced John. So there’s that. Also she’s dating our brother. She needs the third degree just like we gave Sarah when she started dating Luis. Or like we’ll give to any of Henry’s girlfriends if he can ever get a date.”

“Emily!”

“I’m just being honest. Anyway, we have more important things to deal with.” She grabs hold of Amaia’s hand, who hesitantly follows her to the front of the crowd. The older sister watches a switch flip in Emily, where her intimidating scowl is turned into a bright and chipper grin accompanied with raised posture.

“Eliza! It’s really nice to meet you. I’m Emily and this is Amaia, we’re two of the three sisters. Come get a drink with us, I won’t take no for an answer.” Eliza allows a sister on either side, linking their arms with hers and pulling her through the crowd. She throws a delighted expression Alexander’s way, wondering why his face has fallen into a thin line of anxiety.

They seem nice enough-Eliza is touched by the immediate sense of belonging, the connection that comes with having two sisters of her own. They pour her a drink that stings her throat on the way down but she gulps it anyway, enjoying the heat and the comradery of the other two peeking over their own cups. The kitchen has grown to a raucous level of volume; cousins lined up at the island taking shots, aunts standing over the stove with grandmothers. Eliza takes a breath-a moment to let it all sink in. This is nothing like brunch, or a gala, or the way her Christmas would be tomorrow. No, this is fun. This is family. Emily takes note of her expression, leaning against the wall with a teasing sort of smirk.

“Not your average Christmas eve, right?”

“No,” Eliza chuckles, coming out of her observation to reply. There is so much noise that she feels like she’s shouting, competing over the voices melding between Spanish and English around her. “It’s a lot better. Trust me.”

“So, how long have you and Alex been together?”

“Three months last week.”

“Really? So, not long at all then.” Amaia glares at Emily’s comment, looking between the half-smirk painted on her younger sister’s full lips and the scarlet that flushes the delicate color from Eliza’s cheeks.

“No, I guess not…it feels longer, though.”

“And what about John? Did you know about his situation before or after Alex chose you?”

“Emily!” Hands on her hips, the older Laurens shoots a tight-lipped scowl toward Emily who, just a year or so older than Eliza, stands significantly taller. Her volleyball-player stature and high ponytail are just accessories to winged eyeliner and a full-lipped smirk. Amaia, more composed in nature, smacks her younger sister’s arm.

Eliza stares between the two for a moment, taken back by the blunt nature of Emily’s comment. She takes it in stride, however. Having two sisters helps-Angelica had acted the same way toward Alex for the first few weeks of their relationship-although a bit more filtered, and less harsh-natured. There is a similarity there, in the way that Emily scowls in defense of her brother, which actually warms Eliza to the situation. And in her soft-spoken nature she simply smiles back at the middle Laurens sister, shaking her head.

“John didn’t tell me until a few weeks ago-I would have never known, and I felt terrible about it. But we had a long talk and I think that helped both of us. I wouldn’t intentionally hurt John, especially if he had been my friend before Alexander and I started dating.”

Both sisters seem appeased by her answer, although Amaia’s matured grin and touch of a hand to Eliza’s shoulder is much more comforting than the slow-to-warm shrug of her younger sister. Eliza accepts it, however, thankful that her words hadn’t tripped out from underneath her. Soon, both sisters are pulled away into the crowd, and Eliza is left standing in the kitchen, nursing the burning drink and watching the clamor around her.

Alexander has thrown himself into the chaos.

He and John find themselves in the middle of the living room, packed between a group of cousins who have turned on an upbeat rhythm laden with layers of acoustic guitars and bright-toned trumpets. John is a much better dancer than him-his hips move with the practice of both genetics and natural talent, and he spins a lithe preteen cousin around, her hip-length hair whipping along with her. Alex sways alone, practiced albeit a bit awkward-the continual sips of his drink have helped loosen him up, yet not enough to bring him to John’s gusto. But there’s music, and family, and so he bounces along to the beat in the throng of people.

Soon the living area is cramped with people-family, friends, and even a few of those who’d had nowhere else to go for the night. Valeria Laurens is in her glory amongst them, in the middle of a more complex set of moves as she’s spun around by her husband. They relish in the chaos of it all-the music, the laughter. Each year, their growing family adds a new layer of brightness to the holiday. Each year, hosting this party becomes more of a reward than anything else. And then, there’s the newest member of their family. Valeria watches as Eliza holds pudgy toddler hands in her own, bending down to shake a second cousin’s youngest daughter in her own version of a salsa. Then, there are two of them in a circle-three, four, until a gaggle of the younger children have gathered around her. She takes the commotion-twelve clamoring children reaching out for her hand, arguing over who gets to be closer-in stride. Then, they end up in a conga line down the split of cheering relatives, who look on, bemused, at how easily the newcomer has fit herself in.

Eliza is so enthralled with the entertainment of the children that she doesn’t even notice Alexander until he’s pulled her waist, tearing her away from the children who now run freely among the crowd, spinning in colorful Christmas dresses and spiked-up hair.

“Is it my turn?” One hand finds her back and the other Eliza’s hand, and before she can nod he’s started leading her, in a combination of movement that causes an eruption of laughter as she attempts to keep up with him.

“I thought you said you were a dancer,” he teases as she trips over his foot again. Her movements are trying and a bit stiff, stumbling over her own feet as he leads her.

“Ballet, jazz...not this.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll have to teach you.” Alexander’s hold adjusts from her back to her hip, holding her visibly closer than the dance suggests. Through her laughter she follows him, loosening up as he mutters terrible jokes in her ear.

“You’re pretty good at this.

“Pretty good?” He brushes his lips against hers. “I’d like to think I’m better than pretty good.”

Eliza can’t tell if it’s the drink she’s been given or the way he holds her, but the air of Alexander’s confidence makes her heart race, the composition of her body growing warmer in anticipation of another brush of his lips against her-along any part of her. He just barely composes himself, taking in the compliment of the change in her eyes, knowing full-well that his awkward, fumbling dancing is still somehow managing to turn her on.

Through the motion of pulling Eliza even closer Alexander feels a tugging on the leg of his pants, looking down to find a set of wide, shining eyes staring up at him. The two year-old girl, with hair in bobbed ringlet curls, raises her hands to him with a dimpled smile. He takes in a long breath of air as Eliza backs up, just enough to give the girl room to stand between them, covering the blush that’s crept along her cheeks with a warmhearted smile. Alex pulls the girl up, resting her on his side and letting her join in the dancing as well. He holds one of her tiny hands in his, the other wrapped tight around his neck, and spins her. He laughs at the way she giggles, boisterous and light, as she reaches for Eliza. His girlfriend dips her, a hand holding her back while she shouts in delight. The girl is torn, hands outstretched between the two, shouting playfully for more. It has Alex nearly doubled over in laughter, the way she jumps between their arms, until finally she settles with him, her hands holding Eliza’s.

She would be stupid not to notice how easy it all seemed-the way Alexander’s smile reached his eyes, which remain settled on the girl between them. And she fit so nicely there, giggling and chattering over the hum of the music. It only intensified things, this sight-especially since she hadn’t yet seen Alexander with children before.

There had been plenty of times that Eliza had been witness to James with children. Although his Thanksgiving had been nothing like this Christmas Eve, there had been plenty of kids. And she’d played with them, rallying them in a game on the carpet in a separate room while the adults conversed. He’d only come in once, to bring her around on his arm after shooing the children away. He spoke to them in the same tone as to the adults-nothing spectacular. He’d even gotten harsh with a distant cousin who’d wanted to chat. His cold tones and disinterested mannerisms had made her feel downcast, disheartened. At the time, before she realized just how he was treating her, she’d lingered on the moment with careful consideration. He clearly had no interest in children-the reality surged within her the fact that no children would be a deal-breaker.

At least Alexander seemed to take interest in them. To this girl he was tender, and sweet, letting her pudgy hands ‘braid’ his hair after she’d let go of Eliza. And he spoke to her with a tone that was lighter than his own, changed to match her persistent questioning without skipping a beat. And he even seemed to enjoy her company, too, even though it had taken away from their private moment. These thoughts became observations Eliza tucked into a piece of her mind, a recording she would play over and over if allowed. It’s transfixing, so much so that it takes her more than a few minutes to realize that John is by her side, lingering with a hand on her shoulder.

“You know, I’m learning a lot about you tonight, E.” Eliza doesn’t take her eyes from Alexander and the child, too enraptured by the interaction to care. All she can muster is a hum in response, one that barely reaches an audible level of voice. “But the best thing I’ve learned is how terrible you are at hiding things.”

“Oh,” She still hasn’t looked away, her cheeks lifting in response to the girl, who has now placed both hands on her boyfriend’s cheeks, squishing his lips into a fish face that sends them both into a fit of laughter.

“As in your clearly estrogen-filled response to this scene, or better yet that giant red welt on your collarbone.”

Her hand shoots to the spot, horror taking over the bliss that had once consumed her. John laughs, smirking as she leads him from the crowd of the makeshift dance floor.

“Is it really that noticeable? I tried to tell him not to, but it was too late, and then it just happened and I don’t want your family to think anything of me because of it, and,”

“Relax, E, it’s fine. It’s not even that bad. We’re all so drunk at this point I’m sure nobody has even noticed.”

She sits between Alexander and Amaia at dinner, in the middle of a long row of mismatched, pushed-together tables and folding chairs. There are almost too many people to fit- one end pushed up against the wall and the other too close to the stove. But it is cozy-and loud-and Eliza enjoys the comfort of being surrounded by so many people. The chatter is sincere-not just an exchange of pleasantries but of inside jokes and the trade of old family stories. There is so much going on that she can’t decide which piece to hold on to until Amaia begins weaving a tale from her cardiology residency that has her-and most of their part of the table-on the edge of their seats. Alex holds her hand between their chairs, a muted show of affection that warms her nearly as much as the second-or was it third-drink.

A shout breaks through the chatter and the room falls silent to an older man-that’s Abuelito-who stands at the head of the table with an expression that envelops the room in a sense of togetherness. It seems as though everybody is related to this man, who leads a dynamic prayer that hinges each member of the family to his words. Then he’s going around the table, stopping in front of each person with one hand on their shoulder and the other clasping his drink.

“And here’s Luis-never the bright one, let’s all share in a prayer that he and Sarah’s first child doesn’t get his brains. Or his…eh…beauty.” The crowd is alight in a raucous laughter, some clapping Luis on the back while other eyes dart in half-apologetic smiles to a round-bellied blonde. At first Eliza is horrified-why would he have prolonged his time entertaining the party just to insult his grandson? But soon, she realizes this is part of the tradition. John nudges her from across the table with the backside of his fork, grinning wildly as Abuelito stops in front of Amaia.

“Oh, Amaia. How you chose to work with hearts is beyond me-how can you know so much about them if yours is so cold?” The oldest Laurens daughter turns to Eliza, rolling her eyes good-naturedly before tossing her napkin behind her, hitting Abuelito in his square-rimmed glasses. He knocks her in the back of the head-gently, Eliza notes-before sliding over behind Alex, both arms on his shoulders.

“And there’s Alex, who god brought to us even though I said Valeria couldn’t possibly feed anyone else. But he did bring our family an ear-full and a wonderful girl. Alex, I would ask you to keep her around but we can all see that love bite so I’m not too worried.”

Eliza has never felt so much heat rush to her cheeks in such a rapid manner. There is no point now in covering up the painfully obvious, pointed-out mark on her body so she merely shrugs, tossing her silky hair over her shoulder. Amaia rubs a circle on her back, whispering a string of words that widen Eliza’s smile even more.

She sits back, then, watching the jovial interaction between the large group of people with a bubbling laughter that feels natural rolling from her stomach. There is something so different about these people-his family, with their raucous noise level, salsa dancing, and long mismatched tables. They speak in rapid voices, joke freely, and keep the drinks going throughout the night in a continuous party. And when she and Alex return to the dance floor, Amaia’s words linger in her mind, repeating themselves over and over as if she’s too grateful to believe them.

“Now that you’ve been blessed, welcome to the family.”

#mine: swts #hamliza #I'm pretty bad at tagging a lot of the time #whoops #I'm also a tag talker #it's fine #also these chapters are long #and this fic is long #but I'm glad there's still people giving it a chance #and putting up with me #thanks everyone

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wickedgxmes · 3 years

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YASMIN YILDIRIM TASK 01: Character Development

The flower that blooms in adversity is the most rare and beautiful of all.

THE BASICS

Full Name: Yasmin Melek Yildirim

Nicknames: Yas, Mina

Face Claim: Esra Bilgiç

Age: 30

Birthday: September 18th

Gender: Cisgender Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Romantic Orientation: Panromantic

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual

PHYSICALITY

Details About Appearance That Differ From FC: (i.e. hair color, hair length/cut, height etc.) N/A

Perfect Vision or Glasses?: Perfect Vision

Scars/Birthmarks?: {TW Self Harm} Yas’ body is littered in scars. Faint tally marks from the each life she had taken back when she used to work as a mercenary lines her back, while deeper cuts she has inflicted more recently upon herself lay scattered haphazardly across her hips and any place she can hide them.

Tattoos?: Yasmin has one very fair tattoo of two stars laid across her collarbone. A reminder of all of those nights ago when she would find herself sprawled out upon some abandoned rooftop dreaming of what could have been.

Piercings?: Yas has two piercings in each of her lobes

Posture: Yasmin has excellent posture, very rarely being caught with her shoulder slumped or her head not being held high

Dominant Hand?: Ambidextrous

Activity Level?: Very Active. Although Yasmin may be a duchess, she spends a great deal of her free time still training with the Tower Spies to ensure she never loses the edge that she once had back when she was a spy

Physical Strength: Average

Speed: Above Average

Agility: Above Average

Accuracy: Above Average

Stamina: Average. Although Yasmin used to have above average stamina, it has slowly decreased over the years given how much of her time is now devoted to life at court rather than life as a spy.

Can They Swim?: Not all too well. Although she may be able to keep herself somewhat a float, growing up in the desert, means that she is hardly a strong swimmer.

Clothing Style: Yasmin’s personal style is far more comfortable and simplistic than one would assume from the duchess of artists. If she were to choose her own attire for herself, it would most likely consist of billowing pants and a cloak. But, as the acting duchess, Yasmin’s attire has much more colorful and regal, modeling a different outfit per occasion as she shows off the designs of her own people.

Accessories: A poison ring and a dainty pendent around her neck of the sun. It almost seems cheap around in neck in comparison to the elegant gowns and garments she wears on the daily, but the necklace was a gift she had received during her life on the streets. One of the only belongings she still has from that time in her life.

Any Allergies?: N/A

How Well Do They Sleep?: Yasmin has a hard time falling asleep at night. Being far too paranoid for her own likely, she often spends the nights dreading the worst and having grown up on the streets, it is hard for her to feel at peace in the lavishly decorated bedroom of the duchess. Often feeling as though she is more of a stranger in her own chambers than belonging to it or to it her.

Any Additional Details?: (Do they have a favorite physical feature about themselves? Are they part of the disabled community? Do they have any health issues? etc.) Yasmin’s left side is ever so slightly quicker than her right do to an injury she acquired on a job back when she was working as a mercenary that she never fully recovered from

MANNERISMS

Accent?: Yasmin has a refined manor of speaking. She has worked to remove any inflections from her voice if she can help it, but occasionally her prim facade will falter as her past comes seeping back into her voice.

Languages: English, Turkish, Arabic, Latin, Spanish etc. (She knows a fair deal of many languages. Some better than others.)

Do They Curse?: On occasion. But, rarely, if ever, in public.

Favorite Word?: Found

Least Favorite Phrase?: “I love you”

Good Habits: Yasmin carries a smile that has a way of putting those around her at ease; She has a way about her of making anyone she is speaking to feel important whether it be a foreign duke or members of her staff or people she bumps into on the street; she is incredible detail oriented and will go out of her way to ensure the wellbeing of her people whether they are strangers to her or not

Bad Habits: Has a bad tendency of chewing or biting down on her lip when in deep in thought (something she is trying to work on); {TW Self Harm} digs her nails deep into her skin (the palms of her hands), pinches herself or mindlessly scratches away at herself often until it leaves a mark or she draws blood

Any Specific Ticks?: fidgets with the hem of her sleeves or twiddles anything in hand (knife, pen etc.)

FAMILY & UPBRINGING

Which Dukedom Do They Reside In?: Kum Diyari (Sandspell)

Birthplace?: Kum Diyari (Sandspell)

Social Class: Yasmin was born into poverty, but overtime she was able to climb her way up to becoming part of the upper 1% as she takes her place amongst the nobility.

Biological Parents/Parental Figures: Leyla and Altan Yildirim

Additional Family Members: (Siblings, Cousins, Aunts & Uncles etc.) TBD (I’m still deciding :O)

Pets?: TBD (Also still deciding 0:) )

CONNECTIONS

Notable Past Relationships?: The thieves she grew up around; the spy who took her in/trained her to be who she is now

Person You Can’t Seem To Forget?: Kaan (her first love/the man who robbed her and left her for dead)

Person You Can’t Seem To Forgive?: Her father for never once allowing her feel safe as a child

Any Additional Connections Your Character May Be Looking For?: (Feel free to link a connections page if you would like to make one) {I’ll put together a connections page at a later date but all of the things ;D }

STATUS & OCCUPATION

Current Occupation: Duchess of Kum Diyari (Sandspell)

Dream Position: A traveling performer or maybe that of a painter. As much as Yasmin grew to resent her father for embracing the nature of a starving artist to the point where he life was put in danger, there was once a time when Yasmin wanted nothing more than to paint and travel the world. She’d fall to sleep dreaming about the day where she may be able to run off and see the world.

Past Jobs?: Yasmin, growing up, was a thief, before becoming a Spy/Mercenary for Kum Diyari & the Crown

Spending Habits: Frugal. Yasmin is very strategic when it comes to budgeting, preferring to spend her own delegated allowance on that of her people or on a smart political move rather than expenses for herself. Her lavish dresses are typical borrowed from that of local artists of Sandspell so that she can help promote their work. Yas is not apposed to spending, but she often fews each purchase as that of a calculated investment. She also keeps very few personal belongings, having a hard time feeling that anything, right down to her position truly belongs to her.

In Debt?: No.

PSYCHOLOGY

Intellect: Above Average

MBTI Type: INFJ

Enneagram type: 1. The Reformer

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Temperament: Calm and mild tempered

Element: Earth

Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert

Emotional Stability?: - Presents themselves as calm, composed and collected whilst dealing with anxieties and negative thoughts

ASTROLOGY

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Birth Stone: Sapphire

TRAITS & PERSPECTIVES

Drives/Motivations: To ensure Kum Diyari remains a prosperous place of knowledge and artistry. To live up to the perfect image of ‘duchess’ and the ‘beacon of hope’ her people look to her are

Hopes: For the wellbeing, wealth and prosperity of Kum Diyari; To allow the youth of Sandspell the ability to chose their own paths rather than feel forced in one direction to due to necessity

Fears: Of inadequacy as a leader

Dreams: To one day feel as though her choices are solely that of her own; to act upon her deepest desires

Sense of Humor?: Witty one liners, soft spoken/cooed whispers, & alluring smiles as if to say the joke she just made is a secret between two

Biggest Achievement: Earning the faith and trust of that of her people/being viewed as the heart of Sandspell

Biggest Regrets: Sacrificing the parts of herself she once held in the highest esteem to be the leader she feels is expected of her to be & giving her heart to someone who didn’t deserve her love let alone her trust

Most At Ease When?: Painting, Getting lost in the treasure trove of knowledge kept in the tower, listening to those around her speak of their greatest passions (especially those of her people), sneaking off to the edge of her Dukedom’s coast to watch the sun rise or set upon the horizon

Least At Ease When?: In crowded gatherings in which all of the attention is directed to her; in settings where she is expected to ‘perform’ the role she plays far too well

Talents: Strategizing, painting, debating, holding intellectual conversations, dancing, playing multiple instruments, speaking multiple languages, one on one combat etc.

Shortcomings: Situations that require a great deal of vulnerability; Has a tendency to withdrawn herself emotionally in favor of thinking strategically

Have They Ever Committed A Crime?: (If so, did they ever get caught?) Yes. She has committed quite a few crimes although she prefers to brush over her past. She was caught once by what would later become her mentor at the tower. A spy for Sandspell who saw potential in her and took her under their wing rather than turning her in.

Are They A Team Player?: She is for the most part. Although, she does have a tendency to keep her cards far too close to her own chest.

Can They Play an Instrument?: Yasmin is skilled in quite a few instruments ranging from the violin to the flute to the piano etc.

Braid Hair?: Yes

Tie a Tie?: Yes

Pick a Lock?: Yes

Cook?: Yes

Drink?: Yes

Use Drugs?: Yes

Are They Prone to Violence?: No. She will fight if provoked, but Yasmin tries to avoid conflict when possible.

Prone to Crying?: Not in public. Behind closed doors however is another story.

Believe in Love at First Sight?: No. Yasmin used to once upon a time, but nowadays, she’s not even sure if she believes in love anymore.

FAVORITES

Color: Red

Animal/Mythical Beast: Unicorn

Food: Baklava

Beverage: White Wine

Flower: Desert Rose

Scent: Eucalyptus and Mint

Mode of Transportation: Horseback (Technological wise though either Enchanted Carriages or Bullet Trains)

Season: Spring

EXTRA

Link to her Pinterest: https://pin.it/kQVHuMR

#ashrptask #ashrptask1 #ashrptask: yasmin #c: yasmin #yasmin bio

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