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undreaming-fanfiction · 7 months

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Hearts Don't Break Around Here

For the lovely @thefreakandthehair for her wedding. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be!

(also on Ao3)

It’s the small things that make Eddie Munson realize he’d like to make some changes to his life. The mountain of mugs on his desk tells him that, hey, maybe he should get a tea pot (or a bigger desk). The holes in his t-shirt don’t really bother him until he accidentally drops some very hot cigarette ash through one of them and he realizes that he should retire the t-shirt, or maybe re-purpose it for his next battle vest. The way he thinks about it, he needs the universe to send him a small sign.

When it comes to Steve Harrington? Eddie is the happiest in his life. Steve isn’t just a boyfriend, he is THE boyfriend, the alpha and omega of boyfriendness or boyfrienddom, Eddie still can’t decide what to call it. Whatever a boyfriend should be, Steve is. So Eddie doesn’t really think of any possible changes, everything is perfect, except…

Except they’re in bed together, trading lazy kisses and exchanging those stupid little words that make Eddie feel all warm and fuzzy and put a silly smile on Steve’s face. They’re holding hands, Eddie’s guitar calluses against Steve’s sport ones, and Eddie runs his finger over Steve’s and thinks.

I really, really want to put a ring on this man.

The realization hits him like a baby Demogorgon, and once he scrambles together a poor explanation of why he froze mid-kiss (“there was a bug, Steve, like an enormous bug, Shelob-like, I swear on Dustin’s mother!”), he courageously decides to explore his feelings on the matter.

Of course, they can’t get officially married. Yet. Eddie is an optimist, so there is always a yet to be added to any negative thought. It isn’t really about making it legal or seeing Steve in white (well, maybe a little) or having a big party. No, it’s just…

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s about the promise.

Eddie hasn’t had many certainties in his life, but when they appear, he’s distrustful of them. Nothing lasts long for him and if it does, it only gets taken away the very second he starts feeling hopeful that maybe this is it, this is the one thing he’ll get to keep. He used to feel that way about Steve, but Steve Harrington never left. And when Eddie finally broached the subject, asked him why he tolerates Eddie’s humor, messiness, lack of drive and basically everything Eddie, Steve took Eddie’s hands in his and told him, “I’ve had my share of perfection for a lifetime, Eddie. It’s pretty but so cold. Being with you? It’s like…like being in the sun in the spring, when it’s warm and you’re lying on grass and there are ants walking over you and your clothes are likely to get stained, but you just don’t care because it’s the only place you want to be.” And as if that wasn’t too much for Eddie’s poor heart, he added, “I will never break your heart, Eddie. Never. And I don’t make these promises lightly.”

So no, no one can blame Eddie for wanting to give Steve something back. He wants Steve to be the first commitment Eddie dares to believe, and no matter what, he’ll get that ring.

If only it was that easy.

First of all, choosing anything in Hawkins is impossible. His dear old dad made sure that Eddie can’t go anywhere near jewelry shops without people blaming him for trying to steal stuff, so he makes a trip to Indy and stares to his heart’s content. It’s only when the shopkeeper, a nice elderly lady, asks him what style he’s looking for, he realizes – he has no idea.

He promises to come back the next weekend, a bit more decisive and well-prepared.

Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous, so he enlists help. Robin – after squishing his cheeks to death and beyond – agrees to be his spy and drags Steve off to an emergency meeting, claiming things are way more serious with her college girlfriend than they really are and, “I want to give her something nice, like a ring, but a ring that doesn’t say “marry me”, you get me Steve, no time for that when I’m up to my ears in books, so what would you say is an ideal ring? Is that different for guys maybe? What would you choose? I’m just curious because the only example of a guy with a ring I know is Eddie, and I’m not giving her a silver demon thing, nope, not ever.”

Eddie learns two things this way.

First: Steve doesn’t have clear preferences for jewelry, he is all for “seeing the thought behind it”. Eddie wonders if Steve realizes how many thoughts he has and not all of them are ring-worthy.

Second: Steve thinks having an engraving on the inside is the most romantic thing ever, even something simple can become so personal and touching. What should the engraving be? Robin doesn’t know.

The next weekend comes and Eddie drives back to Indy again (Wayne is covering for him, telling Steve he asked Eddie to run some errands for him) and he’s better prepared this time. He chooses a simple gold ring with a yellow stone, just a small one, almost invisible, but Steve’s sweater is always on his mind, so it’s a good choice. He thinks about the engraving too, and his list is, in hindsight, atrocious, and he might have written it when seriously sleep-deprived, but still. He cringes at his own handwriting.

To my Ozzy

You’re so metal, baby

I tolerate basketball for you

To my only reason why 1986 was good

Get a mug collection with me?

But there is just one that Eddie sees and thinks , this is it . So when the nice lady asks him what to engrave, he hands her a paper with his messy handwriting that simply says:

You’re my home, Stevie

The moment of elation and victory is short-lived. She asks him for Steve’s ring size, and well. He should have probably found that out, shouldn’t he?

He promises to return to the shop as soon as he knows. On his way back, he tries to figure out an inconspicuous way of measuring Steve’s fingers.

Once again, Eddie sucks at being inconspicuous.

He tries wrapping a measuring tape around Steve’s finger when they’re asleep. That nearly earns him a smack in the face with Steve’s bat because he’s a light sleeper and forever scarred by their Upside Down adventures. At least Eddie manages to persuade Steve that it was just a piece of his pajamas stuck on Steve’s finger so he doesn’t question the weird feeling that woke him up.

He practices measuring by touch and holding Steve’s hands a lot. The margin of error is in centimeters, so he gives this idea up pretty easily. He blames it on not having enough time to practice, of course.

He (inconspicuously, of course) wonders aloud whether his hands are larger than Steve’s. They place their palms against each other, notice that Eddie’s fingers are slimmer and longer and Steve’s are shorter and stronger, but otherwise? Not helpful.

The breakthrough finally comes when Eddie actually volunteers to wash the dishes for once, but asks Steve to hold on to his rings. He places them on Steve’s fingers and notices with barely contained excitement that yes, one of his rings actually fits Steve’s ring finger (some shuffling around was required, “I don’t want to lose any of the rings, Steve, they need to fit very, very precisely!”).

Eddie has his answer now. He ties a small ribbon to the ring so he doesn’t forget which one it is, basically races to Indy again after calling Wayne and using the agreed code word to have his uncle send him to run some imaginary errands again.

He bursts into the shop, wheezing and holding the ring between his fingers. “This big!” he chokes out and collapses against the counter while the shopkeeper (Margaret, they’re on first name terms now since he’s been ring shopping for around a month) hands him a glass of water.

“Your Steve must be pretty special,” she smiles at him, and Eddie’s brain short-circuits because Indy is better, but definitely not accepting, and this lady has been so nice, has he blown it? Has he ever mentioned he has a boyfriend? Shit, he must have…

He opens his mouth like a fish several times. “Uh…m…Stevie…is, yes?” he says and prays he’s not going to get kicked out in the next twenty seconds. “The…the stone reminds me of him. He’s like a ray of sunshine.”

Margaret just laughs and refills his glass. “Good for you. It’s nice to see someone have the courage. I wish I had it in my day.”

Eddie is laughing with her now, the water surface in his glass is swaying from side to side and tells her, “Your day isn’t over, it’s never over until we’re done breathing.” She gives him the kindest smile anyone outside of his found family has ever spared him. It keeps him warm on his way back to Hawkins.

He picks up the ring in three days, he can’t wait any longer, and Margaret is kind enough to get the engraving as a priority. She meets him outside of the shop in the evening, hands him the small blue velvet box and grasps his hand before letting go. “Go make that handsome young man happy,” she says and Eddie has never promised to do something so easily and so fast.

He stashes the box in the drawer with his formal wear and waits for the perfect opportunity. That resolution lasts him for about one week because another thing Eddie sucks at is being patient. On top of that, Eddie knows in his heart that Steve has had a lifetime of grand gestures and pretend perfection. Sure, Steve deserves all the romance and luxury Eddie can afford, but if he says he’s even happier in their cramped home, on their old bed, with the constant DIY projects, homemade meals, and bad movies rented from Family Video, Eddie will respect that. Hell, Eddie loves that.

They’re cuddling together on a sofa, dishes unwashed and piled up in the sink, and the latest B-list sci-fi movie playing on their small TV. Eddie’s holding Steve’s hand again and he traces his fingers, feels the bare skin and realizes – this is it. This is when I do it.

He kisses Steve and promises he’ll be right back, he just needs to quickly take a note of something for the next campaign. Eddie doesn’t even try to conceal the rush he’s in, he dives into their bedroom and completely destroys the fragile order in his drawer to get to the priceless box. His hands are shaking, but he’s determined, he opens the door again, slips into their living room and-

And Steve is there, smiling at him like his own personal ray of sunshine, a bit shy but radiant, just as he always is. And in his hand-

“No way,” chuckles Eddie and inspects the blue box Steve is holding to confirm that yes, it bears the logo of Margaret’s shop. “When did you get to Indy?”

Steve takes a step closer and tucks Eddie’s unruly hair behind his ear. “Let’s just say I skipped some basketball practices. And before you ask, yes, I had to use blackmail to keep Sinclair quiet.”

“Oh?” Eddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he can’t help it. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing big. Just that I still have the list with potential date ideas with Max he forgot at my place and I’m holding that hostage. Now, I believe I have a question to ask. And…” he looks down at Eddie’s trembling fingers, “maybe you do too?”

Eddie kisses him, short and sweet. “That depends, are you going to say yes?” It’s playful, but there’s also a hint of insecurity, the fear that Steve managed to weaken but never truly destroy. And maybe it’s the coward’s way out, but Eddie needs to know if he’s right in thinking Steve wants this too, if maybe he just got the ring because he wanted to make Eddie happy or assumed that’s what Eddie wanted. Which duh, he does, but this is not about

“I told you, Eddie,” and Steve’s hand is back on his cheek, stroking it, grounding Eddie. “I will never break your heart. And I trust you so much that I want to give mine to you. If you’ll have it.”

He leans his forehead against Steve’s, smiling at the ridiculousness of the question. “If I’ll have it? Stevie, I do. So much. I will cherish it, polish it, even dust it because I know you love everything to be clean.” Steve snorts, but Eddie continues, determined to finish his improvised speech. “I know it’s not the life you thought you’d have. I can’t give you a real wedding, kids, I can’t even kiss you in public. And I know it doesn’t change much between us, but I just want to give you this. I want to give you a real promise that your heart is safe with me, just like mine is safe with you. And it will always be.”

They exchange their “yes” between kisses, and when they catch their breath, the rings follow. Steve loves his, of course he does, and he tears up at the engraving, but then Eddie sees his own silver band and notices something written inside too.

I will follow you to Mordor, Eds.

“You remembered,” he whispers as Steve pushes the ring onto his finger. “You don’t even know the books and you remembered.”

Laughing, Steve shakes his head. “Don’t give me too much credit. I had to badger Dustin to tell me what you said during that spring break. I…I just thought it’s fitting, you know. It was fucked up, cruel and painful, and yet…I’d go through all of it again, just to be with you here.”

Crushing Steve in a hug, Eddie knows exactly how he feels.

The next morning, Eddie actually wakes up early. He manages to leave the bed without rousing his fiancé, Jesus Christ, he’s never going to get used to saying it or seeing the ring on his finger. Sneaking towards the phone, he finds his wallet and the card that Margaret gave him, and when she picks up, he doesn’t even give her a chance to announce her name.

“Hello Margaret, my dear,” he drawls, “when were you planning to tell me that you know Steve too?”

He can hear her chuckling. “Well, dear. I thought me saying that Steve is handsome implied it?”

“Oh.” Eddie isn’t entirely speechless, but it’s close. “So…how did you know it was…you know. My Steve? And not any other Steve?”

There’s a strange sound, possibly Margaret sipping coffee, before she responds. “I could tell you it’s the experience I have. Or that I had a hunch. But – he came in wearing a yellow sweater. A very familiar-looking yellow. And he said he’s looking for an engagement ring for someone who is non-conforming, passionate and loves silver, red and black. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together, especially after he told me what he wanted engraved.” Another sip. “But that’s enough about that, what I want to know is – who proposed first?”

Eddie laughs into the phone and switches hands so he can admire the silver ring glistening in the morning light. “I’d say it was a tie. But hey, we both said yes. Thank you so much, Margaret, for all you’ve done. And, uh. If we ever get to have a wedding, you’re invited.”

“It would be my pleasure,” she says and Eddie thinks she really means it.

“Great, I will call you then. And Margaret?” He twirls the cord around his fingers, only sparing a second to form his thoughts. “In case you find some of that courage too? I can guarantee you a plus one, so be a brave lady and get one, hmm?”

Her laughter follows him as he hangs up and returns to the bed to join the future Mr. Munson.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

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morganbritton132 · 9 months

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Living for conspiracy Steve. You know if they tried anything Joan the Disservice cat would be on the case. You also know Diane clocked it during her looky loo walks and she’s got tea. An alliance is forming.

What’s funny about Steve’s paranoia with the electric company van parked outside is that it’s definitely just the electric company.

If SoMeBoDy would just listen to reason then maybe they might remember the bad weather they’ve been having. They live in a suburb just outside of Chicago. It’s windy and wind messes with powerlines, but Steve isn’t dumb. Thank you very much.

He knows that.

Just like he knows what logo Mike said was on the van that El flipped. And like he said, “It’s spycraft 101. Of course, they’re here after a storm. It’s inconspicuous.”

“Big word,” Eddie replies appreciatively. “How do you know that?”

“I took the SATs?”

“Now the word! Why do you think that they’re tapping our phones?”

“It’s in all the movies, Eddie.”

There’s an unspoken duh tacked on to the end of Steve’s sentence and Eddie kinda loves it. He kinda loves how confident Steve is when he’s convinced himself this shit is real and a little part of Eddie wants to play along, but he knows how quickly it can all go bad so, “Baby, please. Stevie, what are they tapping into? We don’t have a landline.”

Steve pauses to think and then peaks back out through the blinds. He mutters, “You don’t know how wiretaps work?”

“Do you?”

Steve just purses his lips and looks even harder out the window which is just Steve-speak for ‘no, actually. I don’t know how wiretaps works because no one does.’ It makes Eddie grin, sliding up behind him and whispering in his ear, “Don’t you think one of our half dozen nosy neighbors would’ve told us if someone was spying on us?”

“Not if-“

“Baby, Diane came over twice last week because she saw a suspicious car in our driveway,” Eddie hums. “It was our car, Steve.”

Steve relaxes back against his chest a little but he knows the battle is not yet won so, Eddie adds, “Sweetheart, think about it. They’d know.”

“That’s true,” Steve relents just a little and then says, “Unless one of our neighbors is a spy.”

“No, baby.”

“Like a nosy neighbor that’s always in our business,” Steve continues, building confidence. “And who has always been in our business ever since we moved in…and who is talking to the electric company people right now.”

Eddie looks out through the peak in the blinds Steve is making and watches as Diane makes her way down her driveway in her pink house shoes, waving at the man halfway up the telephone pole. She calls something up at him but they’re too far away to hear it.

He can feel Steve pull away and Eddie thinks, damn it.

“Well, that friendship was good while it lasted.”

#meanwhile Eddie has like three restraining orders out against people for stalking #but thinks the idea of the government spying on them is too crazy even though one of their best friends can move stuff with her mind #I love when characters are one hundred percent correct but in the wrong direction #it reminds me of this umbrella academy AU I was writing where Five unrolls a conspiracy theory correctly but then accuses #Diego of being a part of it which is wrong even if he had really good points about it #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

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Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {6}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: For once things run smoother than planned as you introduce Charles and Lando to your mother. Warnings: 18+ only, light angst, fluff WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

The tiny village of Wickford had been your sanctuary since you first moved there at ten years old. Your mother had thought the sleepy little town would be good for you after the news of your parentage became public knowledge and the place you loved most was suddenly suffocating. She thought some time away from the karting world would be best.

Arriving back in the town that never seemed to change eased the ache in your chest that had been there since Max opened his mouth. It wasn’t gone completely and you weren’t sure it ever would. Of all the things he could have said, he knew that would hurt the most because you loved your mum above all else. She was your biggest supporter even if she couldn’t come to the races.

The Range Rover Lando had hired after landing in Southend should have been inconspicuous but when the majority of the town drove a Vauxhall it caught the attention of the teenagers lingering on High Street. You only hoped the windows were tinted enough to keep your arrival private for a little longer - but it was only a matter of time before word got out. It always did.

The drive had been quiet as you sat in the back seat with Charles, resting your head on his shoulder after the tears had run dry. The only time you spoke was to give directions to the small two bedroom bungalow on the quiet cul de sac that had remained your home at heart even after moving to Monaco.

No amount of money offered could get your mother to move, you had tried. You had offered to buy her sprawling estates that had names instead of street numbers, you had offered her luxury apartments, you would have offered the world - but she was happy in the home she had worked hard to buy, and had worked harder to keep over your head when times were tough.

“It’s cute,” Lando said with a smile as he pulled into the driveway.

The agapanthus plants that lined the garden were budding with big heads of flowers and it was overgrowing onto the driveway, brushing the sides of the SUV. Trimming the plants was always your chore as a teenager during summer break and you hated it, complaining the entire time about how unfair life was. It didn’t seem so bad now.

The weathered front door opened before the car even came to a stop and you felt lighter the moment you saw your mum step out, a welcoming smile on her face. The engine had barely turned off and you were out of the car, expertly dodging the pavers that never sat level and into her open arms.

Flour dusted her clothes, a damp tea towel hanging on her shoulder and the mouthwatering smell of fresh baking clung to her as you hugged her tight.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asked as she pulled back and held you at an arm's length to see your face. “You haven’t hugged me that hard since you moved out.”

Her eyes darted to Lando and Charles as they climbed out of the car and you could see the question in her eyes. “Not them,” you said as you shook your head. “I hope it’s alright if they stay with me? We can get a hotel if not.”

“Nonsense, we can make space,” she reassured you with a squeeze before you felt a hand on the small of your back. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Don’t let her fool you, she knows exactly who you are and probably all your stats too,” you said over your shoulder.

“I’m allowed to keep an eye on your competition, honey.”

“I’m Charles, and it’s lovely to finally meet you,” he said as he offered his hand.

“Please, any friend of my daughter gets a hug. You too, Lando,” she laughed as she opened her arms for them. “You must be special, she never brings anyone to meet me,” she whispered loudly.

“Mum…”

“What? It’s true. The last person you brought here was Max. Oh, speaking of, he called wanting to know if you were here.” Before you could open your mouth she held a hand up. “I figured if you didn’t tell him where you were it was because you didn’t want him to know.”

“Thank you,” you sighed with relief, unconsciously leaning into Lando’s side.

“You can tell me what’s going on over a nice cuppa tea and a muf- shit, my muffins.” She was quick to turn and dart back in the house, leaving Charles and Lando quietly laughing beside you. Since you weren’t going to be getting a hotel, Lando grabbed the suitcase from the back of the SUV before heading inside the modest home.

“So you didn’t get your cooking skills from her,” Charles teased as he inhaled the sweet scent of berry muffins filling the entrance hall.

“Depends if she burned them or not,” you said, only half joking.

“Woah, it’s little Spitz!” Lando stopped in front of the wall that was covered in portraits from being a baby through to winning F2. “Where’s the rest?”

“Jos is always at the races,” you murmured, “and he has a restraining order.”

Charles’ eyebrows lifted at the news and he understood even more why you disliked seeing him at each one supporting Max.

“Apparently trying to get the child support owed is classed as harassment,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “We really put the fun in dysfunctional family.”

Lando snorted but once he started laughing he couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, it’s really not funny.”

You had seen him laugh enough in interviews to know it’s what he did when he felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. “Did you want to put our luggage in our room? It’s there, second door on the right.”

He gratefully took the escape you gave him and wheeled the suitcase down the hall as Charles continued his way along slowly, taking his time to see how you had aged over the years. “Oh my god, this has to be my favourite,” he said pointing to a particularly bad photo. “Why don’t you style your hair like this anymore?”

“Ha-ha, not all of our mothers can be hairdressers. You must be the only one on the grid that hasn’t had one bad hair style,” you huffed playfully before pointing to the photo of your first karting race. “This is mine.”

Charles stepped closer to see the wide smile you had with your helmet tucked under your arms and your two front teeth missing. You had kept the coins the tooth fairy left you in a savings jar so that you could pay for the fuel for the race. At one point you could remember considering pulling out another tooth that wasn’t wiggly just so you could afford a replacement part.

“You’ve come a long way, amour,” Charles said proudly as he pulled you under his arm and kissed your temple.

“Charles,” your mum called as she stuck her head into the hall as held out a jar of jam. “Could you be a dear and open this for me, please?”

Slipping from your side he went to help your mum while you went to check in on Lando. He hadn’t made any progress at unpacking when you found him standing in front of your closet, his fingers tracing the pencil marks on the door jamb.

“I can’t ever remember you being this short,” he said as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek in the dip between his shoulder blades. “Your presence always seemed bigger, I was so intimidated by it.”

You chuckled a little at his admission. “I couldn’t let anyone see how petrified I really was. Mum called it my brave face. I guess she couldn’t really say bitch face at that age.”

Turning in your arms, Lando cupped your face and tipped it back to meet your eyes. “I like brave face better.” Rising on your toes, you closed the distance between your lips and kissed him softly.

“Lunch is re-” Your mother came to a halt in the doorway but neither of you made an attempt to hide what she had obviously seen. “Sweetheart, can we have a word?”

You chewed your lip as you nodded and stepped out of the room to see Charles was in the hall behind her but he slipped into the bedroom to give you a sense of privacy while still being close enough to step in if needed.

It was impossible to get a read on your mother’s face as she opened the linen closet in the hall, effectively blocking them from sight, and she started piling blankets into her arms.

“Honey, I’m not one to tell you how to live your life but I saw the pictures of you and Charles together, and the little moment you had in the hall. So please tell me you’re not planning on breaking his heart? He looks absolutely besotted with you.”

You smiled at the thought and shook your head before looking at her with a nervousness you had never had when telling her the truth. “I’m not planning on breaking either of their hearts,” you said after swallowing the wave of nausea that rose with your trepidation. She had been the first person you told when you had your first kiss, she had been the one you called when you got your first period. There had never been secrets between the two of you and you didn’t want to start now. “I love them, mum.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you can’t string them both along-”

“No, mum, I love them both.” You stared at her as she blinked slowly once, then twice. On the third blink her eyes widened and she nearly dropped the blankets she held. “It also helps that they love each other too.”

You gave her a moment to process her thoughts but when you counted to ten and she still hadn’t said anything the sickening churning in your gut nearly sent you running for the bathroom. “Mum?” She looked at the blankets and silently placed them back on the shelf. “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, mum, I didn’t plan to but they make me unbelievably happy.”

“I’m not disappointed, just surprised,” your mum said softly as she closed the linen cupboard and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “I want you to be happy, honey, that’s all any parent wants for their child…I guess it saves me making up the rollout bed.”

You choked out a laugh, grateful that she could accept the news and crack a joke at the same time. “I can stop feeling sick now.”

“As long as you’re not pregnant. You are being careful, right?”

“Yes, thank you for your concern,” you muttered sarcastically. “I really don’t want to talk about this again.”

“You skipped the talk last time,” she reminded you and you remembered feeling the need to escape.

“For good reason too! You tried to tell me your ‘sexual experiences’ but as far as I am concerned you had sex once to make me and that’s it.”

Her laugh filled the hallway and she clutched her chest. “Oh, darling, you have no idea.”

“I do not need to hear anything else.” You stuck your fingers in your ears as you retreated to your bedroom but her laugh still taunted you when you closed the door behind you. Leaning against the cold wood you met your boyfriends’ amused faces where they sat on the bed and pretended to shiver in disgust. “Gross.”

Lando was the first to rise and he placed his hand above your head as he leaned in with a grin. “That went well.”

“Surprisingly,” you admitted with a giggle of relief. “Though Max set the bar of expectation really low.”

Charles wrapped his arms around Lando’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder with a smile that you returned. “I missed this smile,” he commented quietly as he reached out to trace your lips. “When I see it, I know everything is right in the world.”

“Well, not everything,” Lando stated, earning a pinch to his nipple from Charles. “What? It’s true. We are going to face Max in nine days, that's a fact.”

You sighed at the best case scenario, because you could be called to Milton Keynes at any point before then too. “Then how about we make a deal and not mention it? Let me bury my head in the sand for as long as I can.”

“Deal,” Charles agreed before you both stared at Lando, waiting for his answer.

“Fine, deal, but I want it noted that this was peer pressured.”

“So sassy,” you said as you grabbed his shirt and pulled him flush against your body. “Now seal it with a kiss.”

Click here for part seven.

#charles leclerc x reader x lando norris #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #charles leclerc imagine #lando norris imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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talewrites · 23 days

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Fragile Part 4

Remember Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle? Well, that’s you this chapter :]

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’ and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, wholesome, lots of cleaning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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“You IDIOTS!” A crash resounded in the room as Stockman knocked over a table full of metal tools. “How could you let go the ONE MUTANT that survived all the testing phases!” Another crash as beakers and chemicals were knocked off a table. “I never should have left you FOOLS in charge of guarding the lab. This could set us back months of progress. If we don’t find that girl, Karai will have my head!”

With an angry huff Stockman fell into his dusty office chair and spun over to his computer. He was working on updating all the computer systems there in the old Sacks building. He had joined the Foot in taking up residence there since you had compromised their position at the warehouse laboratory by the docks. They couldn’t risk a raid from the turtles and losing all his research. This location wasn’t the most inconspicuous considering its history, but since the Shredder’s initial defeat at the hands of the turtles and April, the building had been deemed unstable and labeled condemned. Since it was difficult to dismantle such a large skyscraper in the middle of the city, it had been mostly left unoccupied for the past several years. Making it the ideal base for Foot activity.

As he was sorting through old records on the computer, he came across an interesting clip in the archived surveillance videos.

“Hmm…. interesting…. Yes, if I do that- yes…. YES! This will work nicely.” Stockman chuckled darkly to himself as he got up from his chair. Bebop and Rocksteady shared a confused look and shrugged, not understanding the sudden change in the scientist’s mood.

“Uuuuuh, hey boss, so what are we going to do about them?”

“You two aren’t going to do anything. …. yet.” Baxter’s dark chuckle echoed as he disappeared down the hallway.

It has been 2 weeks since you met the turtles.

Initially, April had brought you a duffle bag full of comfy clothes a little bit too big for you, and some essential toiletries. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a hot shower with conditioner and soft sweatpants to put on after. Leo’s bed was warm and clean, Michelangelo cooked you delicious comfort food, and Donatello downloaded all of your favorite movies and shows you had missed. Raph one night had even knit you a cozy cardigan. The boys were all making an effort to make you feel more comfortable. But you couldn’t help but notice the reason.

You were still scared.

Every night you woke to terrible nightmares. And every day you felt like you were still walking on broken glass. Startling at any sudden sound or slightest touch. You noticed how Leo looked at you with pity, and Mikey wore a faltering smile. Donnie kept busy working on tracking the Foot, aside from regularly changing your bandages, and Raph- Raph just tried to keep his distance.

You didn’t blame them. You were a stranger in their home. You were finally in a safe place, but it was like your body was still in survival mode. High strung and anxious. You wanted to do something for them. Anything, to repay them and make yourself feel useful. A distraction.

Master Splinter had on many occasions noticed your stressed and mousy demeanor. He felt the unease in their home and the distance his sons kept with their new ward. Like neither party knew how to find common ground.

One night, he requested you join him in his meditation room for tea. You obliged.

“I sense your unease.” He stated casually.

You hesitated, then nodded. You didn’t know how to respond.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. For so long, you lived every day, not knowing if it would be your last. You lost your autonomy, your freedom. And yet you escaped all on your own. You are very brave.”

“….Thank you. I just wish I could feel that way. I feel so… scared. Like I’ll wake up back in that lab again and all of this would have been a dream. I… I don’t know what to do with myself.” You fussed with the teacup in your hands.

Splinter reached across the table and offered you his hand as a comfort. You took it gently and sighed.

“It will take time before you begin to feel like yourself again. My boys can be a little… reserved at times. It is not often we get to interact with friendly humans. Trust me when I say, they also wish for your comfort and safety. It just may take some time for them to get used to another presence in our home. In the meantime, perhaps there is something you can do that will make you feel more at home?”

You were surprised by his suggestion. They had already offered their home up to you, you wouldn’t dare ask anything more of them. But maybe…

“….a-actually… there might be something. If I could have your permission of course.”

Splinter smiled at you.

Once your injuries had fully healed, Splinter had called upon April and Casey’s help to assist you. There was some materials you needed of course, and Mikey was let in on the big secret. You felt guilty roping in so many people just to help you feel more comfortable, but there was something you wanted to do for them, as a thank you for taking you in. April seemed ecstatic at the proposition and was eager to bring you the supplies. Casey just seemed confused that this was something you wanted to do of your own free will. And Mikey- well, he was just excited to share a hobby with you.

The cooking part, that is. Not the cleaning.

Ever since you had been brought down to the lair for safe keeping, you had noticed one glaringly obvious thing. This was a man cave in every sense of the word. The lair was terribly dirty. Dust and grime everywhere. The only clean places you noticed were the dojo, Leo’s room, and Master Splinter’s quarters. You understood that they were all living in a sewer, and they had clearly made a bit of an effort to keep it clean. But you were through avoiding sticky spots on the floor and sitting on a dirty couch.

First things first: Donnie’s dirty coffee mug hoard. The purple turtle was currently napping in his room after an all nighter doing surveillance in coordination with the police, so now was the perfect time to clean up his station. You were extremely grateful to April for including a pair of rubber gloves in the bags of cleaning supplies she brought for you. Mikey helped you collect all the mugs and bring them to the sink, where he was in charge of washing them while you cleaned off all of Donnie’s work tables where he tinkered. You were careful not to move any projects, but wiped it clean of all its dust and stains. Then carefully sanitized all his keyboards and mouse, cleaned all of the monitors (yes all of them), and swept away the crumbs on the floor around his chair.

Once that was complete, you moved on to the living room. Leo was currently preoccupied meditating with Master Splinter in the dojo, so no one was around to notice you swoop in and descend on the couch. Thankfully the boys no longer had a couch made of empty pizza boxes, and had upgraded to a large sectional that Casey had found them used for cheap up top. You were certain that the couch covers had never been washed since it was brought down to the sewers. You were doubly certain that the boys probably didn’t even know the cushion covers could be removed and washed. You threw the covers into the washing machine on hot water with a healthy amount of soap. Mikey then helped you move the couch so you could clean the floor underneath, and smashed the cockroach that had scrambled out from underneath. The coffee table was wiped down, the rug was taken to a railing to be hung and the dust beat out by Mikey with his nunchucks, and the floor mopped clean.

Next was the workout room. Raph had just finished his exercise and left for the bathroom to take a shower, so you rushed in and started cleaning off every dusty and grimy sweat covered surface you could find. There was a musky scent of dirt and sweat permeating the room. All the dumbbells had a build up of grime from their sweaty hands using them for so many years. You also made sure to sanitize all of the mats and floors as well. By the time you were finished, Raph was leaving the shower and went to his room. You hid so he wouldn’t notice you as he passed by, unassuming. Then you were left with the big task.

The bathroom.

You were certain if there was a soundtrack playing in the background, dramatic horror music would be playing. You rolled up your sleeves and went in. Toilets, showers, sinks, and the massive bathtub, all scrubbed down with an unholy amount of bleach until every tiled surface shined. By the time you were finished, Mikey had come in to tell you he was ready to start on the kitchen. That was Mikey’s domain.

You were grateful that all the dishes were already clean by the time you entered the kitchen. But Mikey needed your help when it came to the cupboards and fridge.

“Mikey? ….Why do you have 3 year old expired sour cream in the fridge?”

“Huh? Isn’t it supposed to be ‘sour’? It still looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Mikey there is black mold growing in it.”

“Oh, so…. That’s not pepper then.”

By the time you had finished clearing out the fridge and cupboards of everything expired or moldy, you had filled 3 trash bags full of garbage. Mikey helpfully took out the trash while you cleaned and organized the fridge and cupboards, and wiped down all the surfaces. By the time Mikey returned, you were rifling through the brown paper bag April got you full of ingredients and spices you had requested.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” Mikey cheerfully greeted you as he rejoined you in the now clean kitchen.

“Well… if I remember the recipe correctly, I want to make the dish my mom always made for me…”

Mikey looked at you surprised for a moment, then excitement overtook him. “Cool! Can I help?”

You perked up at the suggestion. “Will you? I’d,… I’d love that, thank you!” Your expression melted into a warm smile, and Mikey felt his heart skip a beat.

You looked so pretty when you smiled, he thought to himself.

He wanted to see you smile more, just like that.

You both washed your hands and got to work. On the freshly clean kitchen counter, you had Mikey kneed cold butter into flour to make a dough, while you cut vegetables and cooked chicken on the stove. By the time Mikey was ready with the dough, there were 6 pie tins lined up to add the crust. The oven dinged and the base crust went in to brown while you stirred a large pot on the stove. Then you took out the pies and added the filling, and covered the tops with more dough. You were surprised at how large their oven was, but they were 4 giant mutant turtles and a rat. You had no doubt that each of the boys would eat a whole pie themself. The extra 2 were for Splinter, you, April, and Casey, who would be joining everyone later.

Once the oven door closed, Mikey turned up the radio that had been quietly humming tunes in the background as a fun song you hadn’t heard before played through the speakers. (‘Bad idea right?’ by Olivia Rodrigo started playing.) Mikey’s head started bobbing and he grabbed the wooden spoon you had been stirring with and began mouthing the words into it like a microphone. You giggled at his antics as he pointed a green finger at you and beckoned you out into the open of the room. You felt drawn to join him as the pop song got your head bobbing to the beat. You felt a feeling well up in your chest as the chorus started building up. Excitement bubbling until the chorus peaked and your head bobbing turned into jumping around. Before you knew it, you were dancing around the living room with Mikey holding your hands and spinning you around. You lost yourself in the freeing feeling of the stress and anxiety getting washed away by the music. All the cleaning you had done was so stress relieving you were starting to feel like yourself again.

Little did you know, the music had drawn the attention of the other brothers. Leo and Master Splinter came out from their meditation to watch in the doorway, Leo smiled and crossed his arms as he looked at you. Raph came out freshly dressed and looked surprised but shared a look with Leo that made them smirk at you and their little brother’s antics. Then Donnie trudged out and leaned against his door frame and fixed his glasses to make sure he was in fact seeing you correctly.

You were smiling, laughing, and dancing.

“It seems as though we are seeing Miss (y/n) for the first time today.” Mused Splinter, the old rat brushing his beard.

Just then April and Casey walked in, carrying boxes they had brought down from up top.

“Hey guys, what’s going on?” April asked putting down her box.

You were happily giggling as Mikey spun you around at the end of the song. April grinned, happily surprised at the scene. Casey walked in behind her and started looking around the lair like he was seeing it for the first time, setting his box down next to April’s. This prompted Leo, Raph, and Donnie to also take a better look around their home. They slowly all walked out into the living space, looking in all directions.

“.... Where did all my coffee cups go…?”

“Hm? Oh! They’re washed and in the cupboard!” You answered cheerily.

“.... Does…. Does the gym smell like oranges?” Raph said, baffled.

“.... Where did all the dust go? ….Does the couch look clean to you?” Leo nudged Donnie to bring his attention to the freshly washed couch covers.

There was a beat of heavy silence as the boys took in the new state of their home, then the timer above the oven dinged and you ran over to put on your oven mitts.

“The food’s ready!” You called out cheerfully.

In the next few minutes, everyone was sitting around the small kitchen table. Each turtle with a full pie in front of them, and large slices cut for Splinter, April, and Casey, and a smaller cut for yourself.

“Damn, what’s this? Smells great!” Casey exclaimed.

“My mom showed me how to make this, it’s chicken pot pie. I hope you like it!” You said a bit shyly now that you had calmed down a bit.

You watched as all the boys and April picked up a spoon and dug in, taking their first bite. There was a chorus of groans of approval as the boys hummed approvingly around their bite.

“Oh my god my mouth is singing!” Mikey exclaimed, trying to shovel the pie into his mouth.

“How did you manage to get this level of flakiness into the crust? Was there any special preparation when kneading the dough?” Donnie questioned. Then Mikey mumbled out around a full mouth, ‘cold butter, dude’ which Donnie had to ask him to repeat when his mouth wasn’t full.

“Wow… I’ve never had anything like this before. Did you make this?” Leo asked. Raph was grunting in approval with each new bite he took, absorbed in his food from across the table.

You blushed and nodded. It didn’t take long for everyone to clean their plates. Casey, Mikey, and Raph all fought for seconds. Master Splinter and April were sharing very pleased looks on their faces, like they were conspiring all along. Once everyone was finished, you stood up and started to collect plates from the table.

“Oooooh no, you did enough cleaning today, let someone else take a turn, shortie.” Raph stood up to stop you.

“I don’t mind, really!” You urged, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were walking and bumped into Mikey who was taking his own plate to the sink.

The plate dropped from his hand in surprise, and faster than anyone could react, your freehand shot out and grabbed the plate. There was a cracking sound and everyone froze to look at you. There you were, balancing 5 large heavy ceramic plates stacked in one hand, while your other hand was holding onto Mikey’s plate that had cracked and fractured in your grip. You were stunned.

“Woah… what just happened?” Mikey broke the silence.

Part 5

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

#tmnt fanfic #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader #tmnt imagines #bayverse donatello #bayverse raphael #bayverse tmnt x reader #bayverse leonardo #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse!tmnt

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garden-of-joy · 8 months

Text

Morning tea| Price x gn!reader

It's a pretty short drabble, a little slice of life. I might turn this into a longer series...

No warnings.

Rounding the corner, a familiar square comes into view. The same one that you and Price played games on when you were both just kids. The familiar smell of black tea invades your nostrils, mixing in with the cold air. This sensation is one that you know...

The cold air of the morning hours hits your face even through your scarf and hat, making you grimace. It's only natural of Price to want you to meet so early on in the day. Barely anyone is out, but most cafés and restaurants are opening up, so you and your dear John can finally get a chat in. Not to mention you've been on the hunt for intel on Makarov for a while now as per his request. Price contacted you a while ago, making everything sound vague. But not to you. You know everything he meant, down to the last detail. And you've finally got a lead. The last thing that has to be done is to deliver it to Price himself so the 141 can use it.

Your relationship with Price is... Peculiar. Due to him being military and you being MI6, you don't always have eachother. Which is what makes moments like these so much more special.

Turning your head to the right, you spot a familiar frame. Price looks like every other person that's outside, but with his beanie and jacket, you can never mistake him. You scoot closer, sitting next to him and tapping the glass surface of the table a bit. A waitress comes and takes your order. Once she's gone, Price speaks up.

"Good to see you again."

"I could say the same." You reply, feeling his hand under the table. You place yours in his, the two palms squeezing together. Price slumps in his chair slightly, not saying anything. You return his silence and take your gaze back to the square Infront of the café. It's still early, but there is some movement. The waitress gives you your tea and you thank her absentmindedly.

You don't know how much time passes. Probably half an hour, maybe less. You're still sitting next to Price, but he's since pulled your chair closer to him, an arm slung over your shoulder. Normally he wouldn't demonstrate so much PDA as to not endanger you, but neither of you care. John knows you can handle yourself.

Neither of you have barely said anything, yet the silence speaks volumes. Both of you feel almost... compressed into the seat, time slowing around the two of you as you just... live. No Makarov. No MI6. No military. The cold air is pinching at your cheeks, but John is all the warmth you need.

"Has MI6 been treating you well?" Price asks, his voice low and quiet.

"It's been fine enough. Nothing exceedingly interesting on my end." You pause. "But I hear you've been busy."

"That, I am." John says, sighing. He looks so much older than he did before the 141 got on Makarov. "So far we've been getting results, but nothing that'll help us get Makarov for good." Price tells, you, his tone much more hushed than before.

"But enough about Makarov. I came here to see *you*." Price says, turning his head to you and giving you that smile you've grown so fond of over the years.

You squeeze his hand a little harder. "Then this might help you." You say, reaching inside your coat and pulling out an inconspicuous folder, seemingly filled with regular documents. John takes it and silently stuffs it into his jacket.

"I wouldn't mind that." You joke and smile back at him. "How are the boys? Are they still being difficult?"

"I don't want to infantilise them, but it sure does feel like I'm taking care of a band of teenagers sometimes." He chuckles a bit and waves to the waitress, ordering the same order. Work can wait, because everything you've got is right next to you.

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deusvervewrites · 6 months

Note

Princeling X Wildcard X Escaping Gravity:

*Midoriya and Uraraka shake hands*

———•———

Everyday life was fairly quiet in the township of Midoriya, civilians going about their days with hardly a care in the world. While it was true that the occasional villain would sometimes stir up a bit of trouble, their town’s higher than normal concentration of heroes meant those problems never lasted long enough to worry about.

True, their town was largely disconnected from the outside world, but the residents didn’t mind too much. Things were infinitely better now than the dark times that had come before.

Then, one day, a mysterious road appeared. A road that connected Midoriya to a village not too far away.

A village that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.

Within an inconspicuous little tea shop, a man sat in his favorite blue velvet chair, which matched the decor of the rest of the building.

His fingers steepled, light flashed across the surface of his monocle in the dim light as a grin stretched across his face, below a large hooked nose.

“How very interesting…”

Igor has a very fun guest this time

#asks #wildcard au #escaping gravity au #princeling au

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commander-winterberry · 10 months

Text

Welcome and Enter Hotel Enchanted! | NA Roleplay Guild

Status: (Last updated 10.February .2024) The guild recruitment is open again! Currently we do not recruit people solely for the Ministry plotline!

Cafe Enchanted is a casual 18+ RP guild (NA only), open to characters of any race, background, and class. With guild members around the globe we do RP on Discord and plan weekly in-game events, with several channels dedicated to plotting, roleplaying and just talking about characters and the game!

Bimonthly, the owners of [CAFE] Café Enchanted host RP events too!

It is not all tea and biscuits with the reopened Hotel Enchanted …

Supernaturals and demons from the Mist still roam Tyria and threaten the citizens of the Dragon Empire. To cull the unknown threat, the secret Ministry of Supernatural Investigation never sleeps.

—-

About Hotel Enchanted Roleplay

Café Enchanted started out as a wandering café until the owner, Yvalris, settled down and established a small, cozy inn for weary wanderers on the Jade Sanctuary with Yunalia’s blessing. This was the start of their secondary business, Hotel Enchanted. Over the years it grew to one of Cantha’s established luxurious retreats for merchants and travelers.

Hotel Enchanted brings character and story driven roleplay, ranging from light-hearted adventures to unraveling the mystery of the Jade Sanctuary.

Artisans, merchants or lost wanderers who pay for their room with their stories - Anyone can find their place here in this eclectic establishment. From meeting new people, to taking up adventuring side jobs or dealing with stranger inhabitants of the hotel, you spend every moment making fantastic memories.

The Café Enchanted holds exciting events on a bimonthly basis and brings an assorted menu throughout all of Tyria, fusion cuisine of every corner of the world all brought to one plate. It also gives the opportunity to meet new and familiar faces! Hosted by co-owners Yvalris and Yunalia.

—-

About the Ministry of Supernatural Investigation Roleplay

The Ministry of Supernatural Investigation, or MinSI, is a top-secret ministry that enlists its agents to take care of the supernatural threat that poses itself in Cantha and its people. Ensuring to keep the public safe and ignorant, this often proves difficult with the threats they meet but has not stopped them yet. Its main focus and task is to survey and investigate supernatural occurrences and their threats.

The MinSI has opened their job positions and seek to extend their international connections while simultaneously doing their best to do it as inconspicuous as possible.

MinSI’s focus lies in lore bending, action and combat packed plots with a heavy focus on Cantha (and New Kaineng as an urban setting). We encourage joining with characters out of the norm since the tasks are far from a usual 9-to-5 job. Starting with a storyline that builds international contacts, people from outside Cantha can join the MinSI as special agents, experts or freelancers.

—-

How to join

You must be over the age of 18. Storylines may include serious themes such as violence and content otherwise unfit for minors. We ask that all members are adults when joining the guild.

A short description of your first character is required (Entire profile can be filled in later after entering the server but information about the character beforehand is appreciated!)

If you wish to join the MinSI roleplay arcs, it will require a full profile of the toon (Entire profile can be filled later after entering the server but short description about your character beforehand is appreciated!)

Once the description is sent and reviewed by the moderator, we invite you to a short IC interview (an Inn check-in with sprinkles of dialogue, whether you stay as weary traveler, guest with no time limit, artisan or merchant - This is entirely optional!)

We provide an inclusive safe space where people can come together and interact in and out of character. There will be no strict character limit but we encourage you to start with one or two mains so IC we can get to know each other better! The themes and stories are ranging from lore friendly to lore bending/breaking (for fun’s sake)!

You can stay with the RP Guild for how long you want, we don’t require an active RP requirement. This is a relaxed roleplay environment for anyone to join for small events, longer story arcs, or to make friends!

Discord is required to participate in the Roleplay events and for communication. Joining the in-game guild [CAFE] is optional!

The storylines will be using various maps from EOD and other expansions. It’s recommended to have them!

Contact

Have questions regarding the guild/lore/etc. or are you interested in joining the RP Guild, then please message me or my co-leader:

DM via Tumblr: @commander-winterberry or (co-leader) @norn-knot

Discord: avaestrom or (co-leader) nightmare.eyes.

We will get in touch with you as soon as possible on either platforms! Thank you for reading and I hope to see you at our events or even joining the guild!

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 rp #gw2 guild #gw2 roleplay

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levithestripper · 1 year

Text

rewatched the fellowship with my dad and it got me thinking about sam and frodo’s relationship.

sam—who’s been frodo’s gardener for who knows how long—going on a life-or-death adventure with the man he’s looked up to his entire life. sam’s had a crush on the cute, brown-haired boy who sits in his garden to read, who puts homemade pies on the windowsill to cool, the boy he believes will never feel the same way about him.

frodo, who watches the sweet, shy, blondie tend to his rose bushes and daisies every other day from the window in his room. never failing to notice the way sam flushes a pretty shade of pink whenever their eyes meet. frodo, who’s uncharacteristically sad at the start of every winter season and uncle bilbo can’t figure out why. frodo is practically jumping for joy when sam returns next spring with an armfull of plants to replace last season.

one fateful summer’s day, not a cloud in the sky to be seen. sam was working away in the gardens as usual, trimming bushes and pruning flowers, occasionally picking a few for a steadily growing bouquet. soon, morning became noon, and the sun had grown hotter than before, leaving sam sweating bullets.

“sam, why don’t you take a break? come inside, it’s hot out,” frodo offered through the window, elbows leaning against the frame.

the boy jumped, startled by frodo’s sudden appearance. “oh, mr. frodo! no, i’m fine, thank you. i haven’t finished cleaning the flower bed yet.” looking up from his work, sam was starstruck. a ray of sunshine illuminated frodo’s soft features perfectly. frodo’s pretty blue eyes shimmered like the color of the sky, framed by reddish-golden highlights popping up in his chocolate brown curls.

“sam? sam? are you okay?” the poor boy must’ve been staring, as frodo was waving a hand in front of his face to regain his attention. “let’s get you inside, it’s much too hot, yeah?”

sam nodded and stood, walking around to the front door. when he made it to the kitchen, he was greeted with a premade mug of his favorite tea and a tall glass of water. frodo had a mug for himself as well.

frodo looked at him with a sheepish smile, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “i already made it before i asked. thought it’d be best to have it ready and waiting, rather than having to wait for it.”

“thank you, mr. frodo. it—it means a lot that you thought about me.” sam downed the water eagerly, finishing it quickly. “didn’t realize how hot i actually was.” he smiles at frodo sweetly.

frodo gazes at him from behind his mug. “well of course i thought about you, sam. you’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“friend?” sam’s heart nearly leaped up out of his mouth and into his tea. “friend, of course.”

the couple sat at frodo’s kitchen table drinking their tea and snacking on the various foods they found in the cupboards. laughter echoed throughout the home, cute giggles pairing beautifully with one filled with wheezes. even after the snacks had gone and their mugs have dried up, they continued to enjoy one another company, eventually migrating to the living room.

sam felt like his heart was gonna beat out of his chest. they sat on the couch together, his leg pressed against frodo’s. “this was fun, thank you, mr. frodo.”

“sam, sam, please, just call me frodo,” he giggles softly, a smile still gracing his soft features. “makes me feel silly, like i’m your master or something.” frodo’s hand slowly inched its way closer to sam’s, almost inconspicuously, if not for sam’s hypervigilance.

he nodded, smiling back at him. sam blushes when frodo’s hand bumps into his. he curls his pinky around frodo’s, causing the other hobbit to blush too.

maybe he does feel the same way after all.

#jack's thoughts #this came to me in a prophetic dream #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #sam x frodo #samfro #frodo x sam #lotr #the lord of the rings #lord of the rings #tlotr #lotr imagine #lotr drabble

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memoriapraeteritorumbonorum · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I really enjoyed the hc you posted of Curvo and Cara noticing y/n picking up on their habits, and was curious if you could write something like that for Káno and Mai?

Thank you, darling! 💚

Ps, those hc were really cute 🥺

Noticing you've picked up their mannerisms - Maedhros and Maglor

Author's note: Here you go! Some soft moments for our favs. Glad you liked the other HCs🧡 I was listening to tavern music when I wrote this and got carried away, this song really captures this post's mood *swoon*

Maedhros

He sometimes struggles with his concentration, especially when working at his desk

Whenever that happens, Mai tends to doodle. He doesn’t really notice, it’s more of a subconscious thing

You watched him zone out gradually countless times and it's the cutest thing ever

He’s always so put together and knows how to handle his concentration, but you knew he’s had more tea than usual that morning and tea always seemed to infiltrate his thoughts and make his eyes extra droopy

You were sitting on the couch behind the desk he was working at, practicing your beading skills, when you heard him draw a rather long breath

He’s doodling again, you thought, let me see what it is

Over time, you’ve picked up on some of the characters he would always draw when lost in thought. A small bird (you’ve come to the conclusion that it’s supposed to be a swallow) in particular would always make a comeback on his papers

Sometimes you pocket pieces of paper he was going to throw away, just for the sake of his little doodles.

He’s so prim and proper, always on top of everything, so dutiful and disciplined, typical eldest son behavior

But his little doodles always show you that even the firstborn prince is just a person with cute quirks

One day, you find yourself sitting in the library, studying for a poetry recital that is coming up rather soon

You know there’s going to be a discussion afterwards, that is why you have taken it upon yourself to refresh your knowledge about this particular branch of elven poetry

What started out as an inspired, enthusiastic study session has now turned into your eyes burning from the dust flying around in the air every time you’d turn a page

Why do these books have to be so old? You’re lucky if you don’t develop a dust allergy after this

The handwritten verses in your notebook are becoming sloppier and sloppier until you find yourself zoning out completely and thus forget about the quill in your hand

When you return to your chambers, Mai is there, curious to see which poems you’ve picked for the recital

So you unknowingly hand him your notebook and his eyes dart back and forth between the page and you — like what’s up huh

"That looks familiar," he smirks, pointing at the little swallows adorning the bottom right corner of the notebook’s last page. You rub your eyes — did you really draw his infamous doodle?? Wild

Mai just traces the doodle with his finger, his warm eyes scanning the page while smile lines start to form on his friendly face

He always knew you had a soft spot for his doodles, and to see you actually adopting them into your own subconscious studying habits just warms his heart in a way he cannot describe

He feels so connected to you in that moment, so happy and safe, knowing that you cherish his little quirks which he always deemed as embarrassing proof of his concentration struggle

"Can I keep it?" he lets it slip, and feels a blush creep onto his cheeks at your smile. You nod enthusiastically and tear the page from your book, giving it to him

When you enter his study later that day, you find that he’s framed that page and placed it on his desk, next to his quill and parchment :)

Maglor

Laurë is an early bird

He’s always been one to greet the world, to watch it wake up. To see the sun rise and warm every creature, no matter how small and inconspicuous, to make them feel like every day is going to be a great one.

He finds himself sitting alone in the gardens, especially in the spring time, when everything is misty and dewy and the silence seems almost eery.

You’ve gotten used to waking up without him, but you cannot hold it against him, really. Because he always kisses you on your forehead before he makes his way into the green grass and hanging trees, the roots and still tired flowers

And every time you wake up, your forehead feels warm because of his lingering fëa on your skin, coaxing a smile onto your face, before he returns to your chambers shortly after, with a freshly picked flower to sweeten your morning

And so, one fateful morning, you wake up before he does. And you can tell that dawn draws near

Somehow, Mother Nature is calling out to you, and the gardens look so utterly beautiful in the distance, clouded by the misty air, you just have to go see for yourself

You slowly get up and dressed, take an extra scarf because we wouldn’t want you catching a cold!

And then you step to your beloved Laurë, bend down and brush your lips against his forehead

A ghost of a smile appears on his relaxed features I’m simping

Your feet follow the trail he left from all his previous trips and you arrive just in time for the sun to peak past the horizon, lovingly greeting you, the newest creature in this setting

And so Makalaurë awakens, lonely for once, the memory of your kiss still on his forehead

When you come in moments later, a lone rose in your hand, hair frizzier than usual because of this morning’s humidity, eyes sparkling with the optimism of having witnessed Arda’s serenity, he’s falling in love with you all over again

"Good morning, Laurë!" You beam and stretch your arm out to present your little token of love and he MELTS

He’s never expected you to ever indulge in this little morning ritual of his, knowing how grumpy you always get if you didn’t sleep enough

He just falls into your arms, inhales your scent which is now infused with flowery morning dew

Your scarf feels warm against his cheek from the residue sunlight and he squeezes you tight and just sighs

"Good morning, my sweet Y/N"

I’m gonna cry

#maedhros #maedhros imagine #maedhros headcanon #maedhros x reader #maitimo #maglor #maglor imagine #maglor headcanon #maglor x reader #makalaurë #request

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shirohige-pirates · 5 months

Text

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 22: Old Flames

The two of you changed into casual clothes and headed for the bookstore café, Cups and Covers. Sadly, Gram wasn’t working, so you couldn’t tease Marco as the two of you got two more cups of coffee.

You spent a good few hours meandering around the shop, flipping through different books and talking idly about what you both enjoyed reading. You picked out calendars for one another for the upcoming year. Something you could both inconspicuously hang up at work, and hopefully have good thoughts about the other for at least as long as the calendar lasts.

Over the course of your visit you ended up having two cups of honey tea as well, and by the end of it all your voice was mostly recovered. Which was a relief for several reasons, first and foremost of which, was that you weren’t sure how effectively you would’ve been able to beg and pout if he insisted on having you take it easy again Sunday.

With a few more books added to the calendars, the two of you left the café.

“Where is Nasugasira?” You question as Marco pulls out of the bookstore lot. You’d heard Sanji talk about the place, but you’d never gone yourself.

“Close to the dock-side carnival.” He explains. “Most of Zeff’s places are catered more toward sailors than islanders.”

“Salty sailors and sassy staff,” you say quoting the advertisements you’d seen for the place. “It’s a teppanyaki place, right?”

“Partially, there’s a pub side, some general seating and teppanyaki tables.” He looks over at you. “Up for a crowd tonight, or?”

“I’d, ah,” you clear your throat. “Just like to be able to talk with you.”

“Greedy, huh?”

You shrug. “Maybe a little.” Slipping your fingers into his, you do your best not to look nearly as flustered as you are. “I just don’t want to listen to strangers ascribe cute couple aspects to us until we’ve sorted most of that out ourselves.”

“Cute couple.” He muses, and you run your free hand down your face even as you feel it heating up.

“I mean, you’re doing most of the heavy lifting for it.” You tease, managing to recover a little faster than you thought. Marco laughs, pulling your hand over and kissing your knuckles.

“So she says,” he muses. “Hey, I was meaning to ask, why’d you pick a giant stuffed pineapple, yoi?”

“I refuse to say.” You say hastily, looking away before he can see anything on your face.

“That just makes me more curious.”

“I’m sure it does.” You admit without offering anything more.

Marco’s fingers slip free of yours, and he starts walking his fingers up your arm. It’s a simple action, but just like at the carnival, you can feel the warmth of his fingers more acutely than you should be able to with a long-sleeved shirt on. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, but it was entirely unfair.

“I won’t laugh,” he muses, fingers slowly stepping their way up to your shoulder. “Or get mad, yoi.”

“I, I didn’t think you’d get mad,” you admit, pressing your lips together as those long fingers tug a little at your shirt collar, teasing your skin idly. “It was… purely functional.”

Marco’s fingers freeze. “Functional?”

You put both of your hands over your face. “It can be used as a pillow, or I could snuggle it and since I can’t snuggle you every night, it just… seemed pra-practical.”

“… Alright.” You can hear it in his voice and turn toward him to see his ears and neck red.

“… Why’d you ask?” You question after a moment’s pause.

You can see the monumental struggle on his face. You twine your fingers through his and a small embarrassed chuckle escapes him.

“It’s my favorite food, yoi.”

“I’d say what are the odds, but it was either that or the monkey plushie, and the jester hat on it just wasn’t doing it for me.” You admit, giving his hand a squeeze. “But, thank you.”

“For?”

“I mean, knowing it’s your favorite food makes it, um… y’know… nice.”

The car ride quiets until you make it to the restaurant, the two of you simmering in your own thoughts. It isn’t until Marco reaches across himself with his left hand to put the car in park that you realize you hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Ah, sorry, I-.” you mumble, and Marco’s grip on your hand tightens a little as he undoes his seat belt and leans over, pulling you toward him for a kiss. “I…”

Blue eyes shift from your lips to your eyes. You can see the smile slip along his lips, and it only causes your sputtering brain to falter more. You turn your head away, covering your face.

“I feel like a teenager.” It’s half a statement and half a grumble, but you squeeze his hand when you say it and hear the soft chuckle escape him.

“Me too, yoi.” He admits, and when you turn back toward him he pulls you in again, kissing you almost desperately. Leaning into it, you bring your hand up to his face and feel the soft, contented moan bubble up in him and slip into the kiss.

You start to lean back, and Marco leans forward, chasing after one more kiss. You smile even as he kisses you, and are getting ready to admonish him when the car horn goes off and causes you to squeak and Marco to flinch.

“Oops.” He manages before he leans back and laughs softly. “Sorry about that, yoi.”

You laugh, a mix of nerves and need and a little more nerves honestly. “No, it’s fine. Teenagers.” You muse as the two of you get out of the car and head into Nasugasira. “You’re kind of a menace, you know that?”

Marco raises his brows questioningly, opening the door for you. “Oh?”

“I remember, very clearly, being calm and collected, and not at all… twitterpated.”

“I don’t think that’s my fault,” he teases, before looking up at the hostess. “Two please, general booth seating.”

“Certainly, right this way,” she replies, grabbing two menus and sets of cutlery before guiding the two of you back to an open booth. “Here you are, and your server will be with you shortly.”

“It has to be your fault.” You continue as you open the menu to look over it. “The only thing that’s changed in my life is you waltzing into it all smooth an’ suave and good lookin’ like you own the place.”

He laughs, hand over his mouth as your server comes up to the table. You get drinks ordered and Marco puts in for an appetizer before you both return to your menus.

“Don’t know what to say to that, do you?” You question, looking up from your menu for a second to appreciate the red slipping across his cheeks.

“I do not, yoi.” He admits, keeping his eyes on the menu.

“Ah, finally, a point.” You declare quietly.

“A point?”

“Yes, I’ve finally flustered you enough you don’t have a comeback.” You explain, straightening up in the booth and trying to look all confident. “Took me long enough.”

“If it’s like that, I’ll just have to try harder.” He muses and you nearly whimper.

“Please don’t.” You lift your menu up and pointedly hide behind it.

“You’re asking me to go easy on you then?” He questions and you hang your head in defeat before lowering your menu.

“Going after a person’s pride,” you reply, sticking out your tongue. “I’m not-.”

“Ah! Marco! You rotten old pineapple, how’re you doing?” A tanned man with shockingly deep red hair, and some scars over his eye, walks over to your table. A loose white shirt, some brown slacks and flip-flops. He looks more sailor than islander, but you can’t figure out how he can be warm in so little, until you notice the dark amber drink in his hand. He notices you as you notice him and gives you a bit of a smile.

“Oh, pardon me miss, I saw my, uh, old friend here and seems I’ve intruded a bit.”

“Yes, you have // Oh that’s alrigh-.” Marco and you speak up at the same time, and you let your words trail off. In all the time you’ve known him, this is the first time his usually neutral voice doesn’t sound completely neutral.

“Ah, see, she’s fine with it.” He grins, and you wish you could shove your words back into your mouth, but you get the impression he would’ve found a way around Marco’s words anyway. “It’s been years, how’ve you been?”

“I’m doing well, yoi.” Marco replies flatly, and he starts to say something else but the man turns toward you.

“Ah, my manners are awful, forgive me Miss. Name’s Shanks, are you a coworker of - no wait, it’s Saturday night, right? Oh, the old bird’s finally moved on? Good, good.” He reaches out and is shaking your hand. You mutter your name in response, but you’re not really sure what to say.

It feels like if you tell him to buzz off he’ll find a way to dodge the action itself until he’s said his fill, and Marco’s demeanor isn’t hostile. It would sour the evening if you said something only to make things worse. It feels a bit like having some kind of natural disaster shimmy up to your booth to tell you how nice your shoes look.

“I didn’t realize you were back in the North.” Marco says evenly. His neutral demeanor is almost completely restored, but there’s no easy smile on his face.

“Ah, yeah, sorry about that. We weren’t planning on being back here for another couple months, but favorable winds and a change in cargo, and here we are.” Shanks grins. “We’ll be in port long enough to swing by for your birthday-.”

“Oi!”

“-party.”

For the first time since he came over to the table, Shanks looks properly admonished, but the expression fades quickly. “She’s going, of course. Of course you are,” he insists, sitting down next to you. “These boys usually just throw one big monthly party for everyone’s birthday that month, right? Cause there’s so damned many of them, but Marco, big brother that he is to everybody, always gets a party just for himself. His brothers basically insist on it. Drives him half-mad, but he can’t argue it because he knows it comes from a place of love.”

Normally you’d be completely irritated by someone just sitting down beside you, prattling on like this, but there was something in Shanks’ tone, his movements, his very demeanor that left you more flustered than irritated. It reminded you a bit of dealing with Marco, only different. More exuberant and filled with bright colors and flourish.

Marco was subtler. Just as impossible to ignore or dislike, but for completely different reasons.

He was also currently slowly losing his cool. You noticed his face in his hands, and weren’t sure entirely what he was thinking right now, but his neutral calm was certainly gone.

“Have you been to one of those yet?” Shanks asks, pulling your attention back to him.

“One of… what?” You blink, having lost the thread of the conversation for the moment.

“One of the big monthly birthday bashes.” Shanks repeats, beaming a bright smile at you. “If he’s this comfortable around you, then you’ve probably been to a couple. Seas know it takes him forever to warm up to anyone. Well, no, it takes him forever to admit he’s warmed up to someone, I’m pretty sure he falls way faster than he admits.”

“This - uh… we’ve… we’ve been dating, for a… week?” You manage to say, looking back and forth between Marco and Shanks. The red-head freezes in place, eyes going wide. “We… uh, met like… I don’t know, two-ish weeks ago?”

His jaw goes slack. The sudden silence from someone who seemed so keen on talking until he’d hit every word in the dictionary was a little unnerving. The slack jaw and wide eyes don’t last long, as his expression changes to one of pure joy. You can hear Marco groan, so you know he’s at least watching this unfold.

“Seriously?” Shanks questions, looking back at Marco.

“Shanks-.” Marco starts, but the man is already looking back at you.

“It took me three months,” he starts, holding one of your hands almost reverently. “Just to get him to let me call him by his first name. Three months! I had to bribe his clinic staff to get him to leave the hospital, well, beg, they’re a sweet lot, berries weren’t really effective. He pays too well. But this - forgive me Miss, he’s just such a-hurk!”

Shanks is pulled backward, leaning precariously over the floor, his butt barely on the booth’s cushion, Marco leaning over him. You didn’t notice Marco get up, and apparently neither had Shanks.

“It was nice seeing you, Shanks.” Marco’s words are even, but his tone is a little sharp.

“Yeah, you too.” Shanks replies, grinning widely before looking at you. “It was a pleasure, Miss.”

“Uh, yeah.” You agree, watching with some amusement as Shanks carefully removes himself from the booth and Marco’s grip.

He smooths his shirt, steps toward the table enough to grab his drink, and raises it to you in a quick farewell before giving Marco a wink and walking back over to the bar. Marco sighs so heavy you pat your side of the booth and get him to sit down beside you.

“Sorry about that.” He says as you turn toward him in the booth and take one of his hands into both of yours.

“I should apologize,” you insist. “I didn’t mean to give him an easy in like that.”

“He’s like a cat, yoi.” Marco asserts, giving you a soft smile. “He tends to go where he pleases, as he pleases. There wasn’t much either of us could’ve done. I don’t see Beck around either, so that makes it even harder to rein him in.”

He sighs one more time, putting his face against his free hand for a second. “I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.” He grumbles, rubbing his hand over his face before looking over at you. You tilt your head, you aren’t sure which part of Shanks’ whirlwind of words he was talking about. “The party. I was getting ready to invite you, if you wanted to come, yoi.”

“I would love to, when is it?”

“The party is two weeks from today.” He says, the easy smile returning to his face. “But my birthday is the 5th.”

“Then… we… could do something?” You question hesitantly, watching his expression soften. “Thursday’s not the best day for a date, but, I’d like to at least see you.”

“Every day I get to see you is a best day.” Marco says, and you lean forward and set your head against his shoulder.

“That was so corny.” You groan, trying to suppress a laugh.

“And yet you liked it.” He muses, leaning over and kissing the top of your head.

“I absolutely did not,” you lie, looking up at him, despite the embarrassment you’re sure is still scrawled across your face.

“Ah, here comes the waitress, you know what you want to eat?”

“You.” You answer shortly, causing him to cough.

#Birds of a Feather #Marco x reader #x reader #reader insert #marco the phoenix #marco the pinepple #modern au

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secretly-a-catamount · 2 months

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I updated this work for Braedafina/Serafaeden Week. The prompts I used were Post Series, Class, and Stargazing (although the last one’s the weakest).

————————————————————————

The eighteen year-old girl watched her reflection in the looking glass with a weary gaze. Could she pass for a boy? It was critical that she could, but Serafina worried that she couldn’t.

Even dressed the way she was (long-sleeved shirt, long trousers, concealing coat), with her features softened and scars erased by Rowena’s magic, and her mane of black hair — brushed and braided for once — tucked up under a hat, Serafina worried she couldn’t.

And she had to. She simply had to.

Everything hinged on it. Everything.

“Miss?” Essie’s voice penetrated Sarafina’s wooden door, the Lady’s Maid right on the other side. “Are you getting along all right in there? You don’t need any help?”

Serafina wrenched herself away from the mirror and padded over to the door, unaccustomed to the heavy boots currently swallowing her feet.

As Essie Walker buzzed into the room, Serafina was surprised to see that her friend had let her dark, curly hair down for once and wore a sunshine-yellow dress.

“Essie, you’re comin’ with me? Jess—“

“The baby.” Essie said in answer, running her hands down the dress’ skirt, fingers trailing across tiny daisy embroidered in the fabric. The baby was not Jess and Essie’s child, but simply the newest orphan child that the two had a voluntary hand in raising.

A second knock on the door, the sound as gentle and kind as the man who made it.

Braeden’s clothing was as inconspicuous as Serafina and Essie’s were, bland, basic, boring and forgettable. The best feature of his disguise, however, was the lack of Gidean. It was distressing for Serafina to see her lover without his trusted dog, the Doberman was one of the only reasons that she ever let Braeden out of her sight with any regularity. She trusted her friends and family — no one else, of course — but the black dog was the only one she trusted with Braeden’s life completely besides herself.

So to see Braeden without Gidean, while knowing that she hadn’t been with her best friend on the short walk from his room to hers, set Serafina’s nerves on edge. (Paranoia. That what the doctors said. Foolish, Serafina thought, because it wasn’t paranoia if everything was actually out to get you.)

Despite her thoughts scuttling about like drunken mice, she sculpted her face into a smile as Braeden walked over to her and pressed his lips to her temple, and then, a moment later, under his soft touch and his softer reassurances, her smile was genuine. (Or as genuine as any of her smiles ever were. Which was to say half-sincere, half-threat.)

“Are you ready, my love?”

“Always.”

“The two of you make me want puke.”

“Come on now, Ess,” Serafina teased, “It can’t be any worse than the time you walked in on us—“

Brown eyes widening, Braeden slapped a hand over Serafina’s mouth. “We talked about this! It — it never happened!” He sputtered, his cheeks flaming.

Essie simply raised an eyebrow (Serafina had always wanted to be able to do that) and pursued her lips. “If you say so, Braeden.”

She turned and practically bounced to the doorway, stopping only to call over her shoulder, “If you don’t hurry up, love-bugs, this wedding’s going to happen without you.”

Well-worn boots with mud in their treads made their way down cut bricks, weak winter sunlight shining through glass panes, the air dense and thick, wet and heavy, wrapping around the young man like a doused wool coat.

He found his aunt sitting at a small, circular table near the middle of the greenhouse, soft hands delicately folded around a cup of steaming tea, nails slightly pointed and painted a gentle sea-shell pink. She wore a plum-colored dress and a shawl around her shoulders made of gray wolf fur.

Braeden took the seat opposite her, his leg-brace creaking, and took a swig of his own drink, letting the sugary and syrupy liquid settle on his tongue, letting the chill radiate into his aching hands. He swallowed, then spoke. “You called for me?”

“I did. I felt that we needed to discuss some . . . upcoming events.” She was perfectly poised, still as a marble statue.

“You mean my proposal to Serafina.” Braeden said flatly, the sweet-tea suddenly bitter and cloying in his mouth.

“Yes.” Edith responded, crossing her ankles. “That is what I would like to discuss.”

“And what part of it exactly would you like to discuss?”

“Its entirety. The fact of the matter is that you simply cannot marry her.”

“And why is that?” Braeden clutched the glass so hard his knuckles went white. He took several shallow breaths and then set the glass down gently. Edith watched his repressed anger hungrily, her dark gaze stabbing through him like a needle through an insect.

“Now, darling, don’t be upset. I simply want what’s best for you, what’s best for the whole family, and I’m not certain that Serafina is . . . right for you.”

“I love her. I will always love her.” Braeden responded, wondering not for the first time in his life if it was normal to want to claw your aunt’s face off.

“Will you? You’re at a difficult age, Braeden, one where, if not properly guided, you’ll make decisions you’ll later regret.” For a second her face was a paper-mask, her smile drawn on by a crooked hand, her eyes flat and dull, and then he blinked, and she wasn’t, back to a flesh-and-blood woman whose only signs of aging were the threads of silver woven into her dark hair and the faint lines at the edge of her dark eyes and pitiless mouth. “And that’s to say nothing of how it would . . . look. While I don’t believe it, people do talk and, well, they say the most . . . dreadful things about your Serafina. About what she actually wants out of your relationship.”

A ugly flush spread across Braeden’s face, the idea that anyone would ever think that of Serafina disturbed him.

Edith calmly took a sip of her tea, as if she hadn’t just ripped his world to shreds with her soft voice and perfectly manicured nails. Her movements were precise and controlled, calculated, and Braeden suddenly felt that his aunt wasn’t human at all, but something mechanical, made of gears and wires, completely and utterly unable to be pursued by matters of the heart simply because she did not have one.

“I do.” His voice was steady.

“Than I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss—“

The rest of the officiant‘s words were cut off by Serafina’s lips and the feeling of her fingers entwining in his hair.

Somewhere behind them Essie and Waysa cheered, while Rowena was almost certainly being the source for the polite clapping.

“Braeden, darling, you really do have to consider the consequences of your actions.”

“I have.”

“Than you see—“

“I don’t care what you want.” He interjected, standing abruptly. “I care that she’ll be happy, that is my main priority and it will always be my main priority, and if you can’t understand that,” he looked away for a moment, took a deep breath, and then continued, “I will marry her. With or without your permission.”

“Braeden, wait!”

But he was already gone.

“You really missed something,” Essie nuzzled her head in the crook of Jess neck, “I almost cried.”

“Waysa did cry.” Rowena said, leaning against the unlit fireplace.

“So?” Waysa (who was sitting on the couch with Jess and Essie) countered, “I cry when I’m happy.”

“I must make you cry often then.”

“Quiet frequently.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, Braeden and Serafina sat on the windowsill, unaware of their friends teasing.

Braeden whispered to her, his mouth gently brushing against her ear, “I used to sit on this windowsill every night and wish on all the stars that I’d have someone who would love me one day.”

“You sound as if you still don’t believe it.” Serafina whispered back, smiling.

“Of course I don’t,” Braeden admitted, “what man could possibly look upon a goddess such as yourself and believe that you choose him?”

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rainbowfey · 6 months

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Day 4: Cursed Eyes

This is a series written for @madatobiweek.

Tobirama slowly inched away from Madara, trying desperately to seem inconspicuous. When Madara looked up from his cup, he froze immediately and pretended to not be searching for a way out. Because he didn’t have any better idea, he quickly took a sip of his tea. Only a split second after he had swallowed the piping hot tea, the thought shot through his head whether Madara had maybe laced the tea with something. It indeed tasted bitter enough. But he abandoned this theory again when he remembered that Madara had already had almost a full cup from the same teapot and he didn’t show any signs of the tea being anything else than tea at all. And even though he did not put any foul tricks past Madara, he was fairly sure that he wouldn’t go as far as to poison Tobirama and also himself in the process. For all it was worth, he couldn’t remember that they had ever tried to actually harm each other – even though he sometimes did have certain fantasies when Madara poured scorn on him once again.

It took Tobirama a moment to realize that Madara was still waiting for a reply. He thought about asking him what this was about but even though Madara pretended to be a amicable person right now, his gut told him that he wouldn’t just reveal what he was planning on this time. Tobirama gritted his teeth and nodded slightly. If this was the game Madara wanted to play, he’d play along until he had figured out what all of this was about.

„Fancy some gummy bears?“ Madara asked after the silence between them grew too suffocating, the weirdly kind smile still plastered on his face. Before Tobirama had the chance to reply, Madara had already grabbed the bowl with gummy bears and offered some to him.

And while everything in him protested against it, he forced himself to accept them. He grabbed a small handful of gummy bears and stared at them for a moment before shoving a red one into his mouth. He chewed a couple of times, uncomfortably aware of how Madara was watching him, and the fruity sweetness filled his mouth. “Thanks,” he muttered, forcing his body to relax as much as possible. If he wanted to seem believable, he’d have to put some effort into it.

Madara nodded satisfied and turned his attention back to the snacks which elicited a quiet sigh of relief from Tobirama. This gave him some time to think the whole situation through and weirdly enough, the gummy bears seemed to help him think straight. The fog in his brain slowly faded and he felt his thoughts finally organizing themselves a bit more. Now that he thought about everything that had happened, nothing of this behavior was like Madara at all. In fact, if it weren’t for the familiar face, he’d have thought he was sitting across from an entirely new person – one that he wasn’t eager to get to know either. But at least with Madara, he knew what kind of hassle he had to expect. This situation however left him completely in the dark and for the first time, he felt actually alarmed. Something about this made his gut tremble with unease and he didn’t like this feeling one bit.

“Are you feeling better now?” Madara asked and Tobirama barely managed to suppress his flinch when he heard Madara’s voice. “Tea and snacks do have a calming effect, don’t they?”

Tobirama nodded. Right now he was very thankful that he wasn’t known to be an overly cheerful person so that Madara wouldn’t find his reserved behavior unusual. “Indeed,” he squeezed out, trying to sound calm. “Tea does work wonders.”

For a moment he watched closely but Madara seemed to accept his lie and his smile widened. “You’re right. I’m glad I was able to help you calm down a bit. Would you like telling me why you asked me to meet here?”

Tobirama almost choked on a green gummy bear at Madara’s words. Suddenly, an eerie thought popped up in his head and before he could stop himself he casually asked, “Remember when we had our last picnic? Did you enjoy the salad I made?”

His heart started beating faster while he awaited Madara’s reply. Madara wrinkled his brow and seemed to think about it but then he slowly nodded. “It was delicious,” Madara agreed.

Tobirama’s heart sunk and his palms started feeling sweaty all at once. All of the previous incidents may have been part of Madara’s scheme but this most definitely wasn’t. Whatever he was up to – it would be a cold day in hell when Madara allowed Tobirama to catch him in such an obvious lie. The Madara he knew would never act this way and he would certainly never pay Tobirama a compliment. There had never been a picnic and all of their encounters had been characterized by their mutual contempt. But if the person in front of him didn’t know that even though they should have been fully aware … Tobirama’s stomach churned. The more he thought about it, the more unsettling it became. The fact that Madara was acting like he had lost his mind and didn’t have any remnants left of who he was only one day prior sent shivers down his spine.

“I’m really glad I can rely on you,” Tobirama said, trying to sound earnest but he couldn’t entirely suppress the tremble in his voice. He almost choked on his next words. “You’re a good friend.”

And when Madara smiled again, he finally realized what about it felt so uncanny to him. It wasn’t only the fact that Madara smiled at him altogether that unsettled him, he now realized. Instead, it was the fact that Madara’s smile didn’t reach his eyes at all. Tobirama’s body started feeling cold when he watched Madara, barely listening to his reply. His face moved, his lips curled but during all the time, his eyes remained entirely blank. The longer Tobirama watched him, the more he noticed that Madara’s eyes kept motionless, staring at him unblinkingly like two bottomless abysses. Madara’s gaze had always been full of disdain and even ghastliness at times but one thing had always been the same – his dark eyes had always been full of life, glistening like black diamonds, radiating whatever Madara felt in the moment. If Tobirama had to describe them he would have said they were the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. But now, in the glow of the flickering campfire, Madara’s eyes were cold pits that seemed to absorb the light between them. And more than anything, his blank stare reminded Tobirama of the broken, dead eyes of fallen comrades.

His hair stood on end and suddenly, a sense of dread surged through his body. Something wasn’t right, something about Madara was so deeply wrong that his instinct screamed at him to run away as fast as he could. He almost winced when Madara moved slightly, his blank eyes never leaving Tobirama. And out of nowhere he knew that he had to leave immediately.

Tobirama rashly got up and gave Madara a nervous smile. “Thanks for the picnic,” he blurted out, trying desperately not to raise any suspicion. “I really enjoyed it but I have to leave now. Got important things to do, you know?”

Madara also stood up and Tobirama fought off his urge to just whirl around and run. Instead, he kept his forced smile and waited almost paralyzed for Madara’s reply. “Of course,” Madara said kindly, his voice sounding so unfamiliar that it made Tobirama’s skin crawl even worse than before. “Let’s do this again another time.”

“Will do,” he replied hastily, keeping his eyes glued to Madara who was still smiling at him from below his cold, dead eyes. He slowly walked backwards until he was sure he had enough of a head start should Madara start coming for him. But while he moved, Madara stayed entirely still, his eyes staring blankly ahead, always focused on Tobirama’s face.

It took Tobirama everything he had to avert his gaze and head for the entrance gate with Madara in his back. He barely noticed that he held his breath, intently listening for anything that sounded even remotely like someone following him. When the sense of dread grew so strong that he fought for air, he quickly glanced over his shoulder. Madara was still standing by the fire and now that he was farther away, he could see that his whole body seemed weirdly stiff. It reminded him almost of a marionette, held in place by invisible strings. The last he saw before the trees blocked his view was the deeply uncanny smile below cold, dead eyes.

When Madara was finally out of sight, Tobirama started running as fast as he could. At first, he didn’t know where to go but after a while he noticed that his quick steps hammering onto the ground led him towards the one place where he might be able to find answers to the questions drilling into his mind. He was struggling for breath and his calves felt like they had been set ablaze when he reached Konoha’s archive after what had to be record speed. He was still panting when he opened the door a crack, only wide enough for him to slip into the building and close it behind him quickly.

The hallway leading to the archive encompassed him with darkness and for a moment, Tobirama felt like as if Madara would appear somewhere behind him at any second. He held his breath and listened for any treacherous sounds but everything remained silent. However, his whole body felt tense when he made his way through the hallway, led by his own memory of the archive’s layout. He made it to the big leaf door without bumping into any walls and when he had stepped into the big room filled with books, he finally dared to turn on one of the lights.

With a soft click, he flicked the light switch and warm light flooded the room, illuminating the endless rows of book shelves that lined the walls and formed a labyrinth inside the enormous room. The faint smell of the books engulfed him and after another suspicious glance over his shoulder, he finally relaxed a bit. The eerie feeling of being followed finally faded away and he shook his head softly, trying to make sense of his visceral reaction. He had faced a big variety of threats throughout his time as a shinobi but nothing had alarmed him more than the sight of Madara’s eyes staring at him, never blinking, never changing. He shuddered involuntarily and clenched his fists. Something was wrong with Madara and with every passing minute he was surer that it was way more profound than just a scheme or dirty trick to play mind games with him. When he had stared into Madara’s black eyes in the past, he had always seen the life and power glistening in them but while they sat at the camp fire, they almost hadn’t even seemed manlike anymore. It had almost felt like everything that made someone human had been stripped away from them – and whatever was going on, Tobirama sure as hell wasn’t about to just stand by and watch until something happened.

With this new resolve, he nodded to himself and walked over to the big leather-bound book that was as always lying on a pedestal close to the door. He read through the index, squinting as he tried to make out the narrow handwriting in the book. His gaze wandered over dozens of keywords and the associated numbers that indicated their position in the archive. When he had finally found what he was searching for, he stared at the number and repeated it a couple of times for himself until he had memorized it.

Tobirama closed the index carefully and orientated himself until he had figured out which way to go. He quickly headed for one of the more distant and closed off sections of the archive that was rarely used by any visitors. The book shelves looked older than the ones in the front part of the archive and there were also noticeably less books there. He found what he had been searching for in the farthest corner, sitting between half a dozen of worn looking books. Tobirama hesitated only one moment before he took a deep breath and grabbed the book. And when he sat down at one of the tables to read, the golden letters on the blood red binding shone in the dim light of the archive.

Demonology.

#madatobiweek2023 #day 4 #naruto #madara x tobirama #madatobi #madara uchiha #senju tobirama #enemies to lovers #angst #cursed #dark aesthetic #demonology #naruto fanfiction #series #fanfic #writing

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jaemmingjaem · 1 year

Text

quiet things, whispers of you

Locklyle Week 2023, Day 3: Denial/Outsider's POV

As it was, George had to content himself to just run the risk of witnessing things such as “You’re so amazing, Luce” uttered by his own best friend’s mouth. Ew. Too gross, and it happened about three times just that week. A guy couldn’t live in his own house in peace anymore.

Or: Lucy and Lockwood are married. They just don't know it yet.

@locklyle-week

Rating: T

Pairing: Lucy Carlyle/Anthony Lockwood

Words: 1.113

George has already put up with a lot of bullshit from his so-called friends. And it was okay, really, Lockwood and Lucy were probably in that honey-moon, lovey-dovey, absolute morons in-love phase of their relationship. Everyone had one of those, they were entitled to have theirs as well. It was a well established fact that there was already an emotional ring around their fingers.

But. And it was a very big but (no pun intended).

They didn’t seem to know they were in that phase, and it was kind of annoying for George, who just wanted to have a simple cup of tea after a long, thrilling but tiring night of research, and had to see disgusting displays of affection in the middle of his kitchen. Their kitchen. Lockwood’s kitchen. Anyways.

Was it too much to ask for them to just admit they were smitten with each other and spare him from being present during their abhorrent longing stares at each other? At least maybe then they would stop with their nerve-grating way of drinking tea through heavy-lashes, and maybe move on to doing their thing in the privacy of someone’s room, where George wouldn’t have to feel like he was stepping into a land-mine of sexual tension every time he stumbled upon a communal room.

As it was, George had to content himself to just run the risk of witnessing things such as “ You’re so amazing, Luce ” uttered by his own best friend’s mouth. Ew. Too gross, and it happened about three times just that week. A guy couldn’t live in his own house in peace anymore.

So, married life. His friends. A guy sometimes was entitled to some peace and quiet.

Today, George tried his luck in their library. Though Lockwood made the place his realm, it was not Lucy’s favorite hangout spot. That would have been the basement with Lady Esmeralda and Floating Joe, or the backyard with the trees. It was a safe bet she was in either of those places, and not in the company of one Anthony Lockwood.

The beige carpet of the corridor took him to the library. The door was open, and there was no noise coming from inside. Great, it could even be empty! George held the magazine and newspaper articles tighter in his arms, walking with more confidence at the thought of reading everything in a place completely undisturbed by sexual tension.

He took a step into the room and… oh. Oh no.

“George, I didn’t know you were home. Were you always here?” Lockwood gave a short laugh. His shoulders were tense.

“I’ve been in my room for the most part of the day, yes,” George said, too shocked at the scene in front of him to react.

“Good to know that… for future reference. Always keep tabs on your employees.” His fingers drummed the cover of the book. “My armchair is empty if you want to sit. Why don’t you join us?” Lockwood said, fixing his posture, with a nervous smile. One of his eyes twitched more than was normal for a human being.

Joining them was the last thing on George's mind. The only thought in his head seemed to echo ‘ Retreat, retreat!’ in a constant loop.

Right in front of his eyes, Lockwood sat on the comfort of the leather couch, a book opened in one hand, as the other rested inconspicuously by his side, almost as if his fingers had been caught in the act of caressing the hair of the girl sleeping in his lap. Jesus. Couldn’t a guy breathe around here?

The top two buttons of his shirt were undone. The sleeves rolled up. Beside him, the lamp was turned into an opaque yellow, which made Lucy’s hair glint, and played tricks to make it look lighter than it was. Her face was smashed in an awkward and ugly angle over the fabric of Lockwood’s black trousers. From the corner of her mouth, a faint drizzle of drool dripped and made a small puddle. If Lockwood had had that sight, his expression wouldn’t look as terribly and irritatingly fond as it did.

At that moment, even if Marisa Fittes herself had been there and asked him to join them, he’d have refused. There was no way he was staying there.

“I think I’m gonna pass that one out.” George pointed at the sleeping girl with his head, in a silent question. He wasn’t judging. But he was, you know. Wondering how that had happened. He was a curious guy, after all.

“She’s just tired.” Lockwood nodded, with an unconvincing quirk of lips.

“Uh-huh.”

Lockwood fidgeted in his seat. A slight gulp could be seen on his throat. “Fell asleep as soon as she sat here.”

“Yeah, funny how that works, right?” George leaned against the door, in what he hoped was a casual stance. The magazines and newspapers in his arms made it hard. “People just… fall into places, and then they’re off to see Morpheus, right? It makes a guy wonder how they get to some places, let’s say… a lap, maybe.”

“That is indeed… curious. What a mystery. I guess we’ll never know,” he grinned so bright at George that it felt like all he would ever see again was white. It was that blinding.

“Sure, mate.” George shook his head and turned around. Enough of this house for today. For the whole week, maybe.

In the middle of the way to the kitchen, he spun around and hastily made his way back to the library. There was no way he was going to stay in this place in these conditions. His friends might have had a metaphorical boner to remain chronically single, but hell would freeze over the moment he too decided to be that dense as well.

“Hey, I’m not gonna be home tonight. I’ll be out with Flo. Seeing nice relics and all that,” he informed casually.

Lockwood hummed, eyes fixed once again on the book pages. “Okay. Certainly. We’ll be home most of the night. Call us if you need us.”

“Oh, I won’t. Don’t worry. I won’t come home tonight. Okay, mate?” George made visual contact with Lockwood. He didn’t wait for an answer. He hoped the underlying message was clear enough that even someone as dense and emotionally repressed as Lockwood could pick it up. “Okay. I’ll be home at ten-ish tomorrow. Wait for me if there’s a meeting.”

His friends were so terrible. Gosh. If they didn’t admit they were into each other already George would be obligated to take matters into his own hands. Or just stab his own eyes. That was always an option too.

A/N: hey! i hope you liked this <3

#fanfic #lockwood and co #locklyle week 2023 #locklyle #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #day3: outsider's pov #george karim

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