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silver-la-pixels · 1 year

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Wrote a short scary story thing to try some stuff out

“Entity”

Day one, Morning:

I am here to explore the area. Always wanted to, but just never had the time. I’m finally crossing the chainlink where the suburbs end and the field begins. I feel like there's something here. In the woods. I’ve looked at maps, and it stretches for miles, but it shouldn’t take more than a day to cross. I’m sure countless hunters have been through this, but I want to cross it completely, as a testament to myself.

Day one, Afternoon:

I’m taking a break. All this walking is catching up to me. The ground’s solid enough though, good thing it didn’t rain last night. I was right about the hunters, there are beer cans all over the ground and stands in the trees. I need to venture deeper though. I want to separate myself from civilization. It’s nice, the wind and smells. The birds are kind of annoying though. The crows never shut up.

Day One, Evening:

It’s not nighttime, but I’m still in pretty deep. I brought a tent though, In case of a sudden downpour or I didn’t make it within my timeframe. I planned on just going straight forwards with my compass until I reached the other end or found another path. I’ll keep going a bit more though, just until sundown.

Night One: I’ve set up the tent and am ready to call it a night. I really packed for an emergency in case I underestimated my ability to trek for a day and I’m glad it came in handy. I have a small box of matches and a solar-powered flashlight, but I didn’t want to be stumbling around in the dark.

Day Two, Morning:

If I don’t find a dairy queen by the end of today I will be seriously disappointed. Slept surprisingly soundly, it didn’t sound like there were too many animals around. I found a small creek and might follow it if I get stuck here, so I burnt a branch and used the charcoal to write an X on the trees around it as a landmark. This is my territory now.

Day Two, Afternoon:

It's a beautiful day out but I am craving fries so much right now. I found some wild blackberries, but they're weak-flavored and tiny. At least there weren’t any bugs in them. The compass is still pointing north, but by my distance, I should have reached the other side of these woods by now. At least if I end up walking in circles for days I have a now-empty bottle and matches to purify the creek water. I even tried to scale a tree to get a vantage point, but couldn’t get high enough to see anything but more trees.

Day Two, Evening:

There’s abandoned buildings here! The maps are either outdated or these ruins are so well-covered that nobody ever put them on one. I can’t give an age to them, but theres a shed and a concrete cube. Well that's what it looks like. There aren’t any signs or names but it could have been some sort of shelter, maybe. The bigger one has a rusty door falling off what must be the front, and I tried to look around inside but it’s just dark. The shed seems alright on the outside but I don’t want to lock myself into closed quarters with a wild possum or racoon. Plus, I did some searching around here and found the creek running nearby.

If I don’t find any way back to a city, I might stay in the clearing here overnight.

…

I managed to get into the main building. If the stairs collapse, I’m screwed. The roof was easy enough to access and it offers a good enough view.of the area. Theres trees in every direction, but if these buildings are here in the middle of nowhere, there must be some sort of path out. I also saw my first non-bird wildlife out here, nothing special, just a deer crossing the clearing into the woods again.

Night Two:

Since the building hasn’t collapsed yet, I’m pitching the tent on the roof. The stars are brightly scattered across the sky. I’ll see if I can raid either building for supplies tomorrow.

Day Three, Morning:

You’d think that for an area so wooded there would be more proof of life. The idea of mountain lions of other creatures has been on my mind but all I can do is hope for the best. It’s still very freeing though, to live without a schedule or demands. I’m going to look for an actual path out of here and then see where the creek leads.

Day Three, Afternoon:

I think I’m actually alone out here. There wasn’t a scrap of proof that the building was inhabited. Not even brand names or furnishings. There was nothing in the shed, but it smelled like salt. There aren’t even deer paths. I’m going to walk back the way I came.

…

I’m free, running, foraging like I should be. I have no home. The wild is my home.

Day Three, Evening:

It’s invigorating to be out here so untouchable and intact, but my craving for processed foods and a hot shower is dragging me back “home”. I don’t need either but it’s not like I can get any out here. I totally feel the world getting bigger as I become more insignificant in the grand scheme of nature. One day, my flesh and bones will feed the wild, but not anytime soon.

…

It’s getting dark and I’ve just now realized that my flashlight is still sitting on the rooftop of that building. I haven’t covered that much distance to begin with, so I’m going back for it.

Night Three:

It got dark fast and the moon's position in the sky says it's very late. I’m staying on the roof again, but at least I have everything with me. I’m definitely going to have to leave soon if I want to I am in no hurry to l e a v e t h e w i l d. I m g o i n g f o r a n i g h t t i m e r u n.

Day Four, Morning:

I woke up on the ground. My tent was still pitched on the roof, but right now I’m drenched and freezing on the grass. I better not have gotten sick from it. I’m trying to thaw out with a campfire. There were rocks near the creek and so I’m using them to heat my clothes. Still no signs of animal commute, except for some rustling I heard a bit after waking up. I’m leaving as soon as this fire completely dies.

Day Four, Afternoon:

The woods have something in them, I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before but this creature is everywhere. The birds are scared of it. I ran out of food a while ago, but I feel fine. It’s got to be the fresh air working on me. Besides, now that the woods know I’m not a threat, they’ve let me leave. I will not look behind me. Only ahead and down. It’s behind me.

Day Four, Evening:

I found the creek with my landmarks, but they were almost completely covered by dusty tree sap, almost like it was trying to purge it out. I got some on my tent, somehow, but I might just throw it away after I reach wherever I’m going. It’s still behind me, but keeping a bigger distance.

Night Four: i t’s juST outside the tent it wants me to come out its callin g me i think im gonna die if i dont follow it im not even sure what it is its talking but its huge what even is this thing? Its like an ancient wild entity

Day Five: The unexpected subject finally succumbed and from now on will no longer bother us. We thought it would never happen. Radio waves will continue to be broadcasted in the local base, but we will be moving locations shortly. After all, it is coming for us.

#writeblr #my text #txt #short story #journal

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primalsouls · 2 years

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spellbound pt 3

pt 1 - pt 2

pairing: xiao x gn!witch!reader

theme: general, angst-ish, fluff

warnings: verbal abuse, mention of death, stabbing

notes: hopefully that's all the warnings, if not, please do notify what other warnings to put! im not good at detecting what's a warning or not haha... anyway, here's pt 3 but somehow pt 1 of a backstory for how xiao and the reader met. hope you all enjoy reading it! reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated :) thank you!

꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷꒥꒷

"Oh what disaster, [name]," Their grandmother said with a shake of her head, a look of disappointment crossing her features. "I've told you many times before, never mix the lizard tail and the mist flower together in the pot." She scolded the young witch. [name] could only look down at the ground in shame, hands behind their back with their catalyst in their hold. They mumbled an apology, knowing it would not cease the lecture they would continue to receive by their grandmother, the eldest witch in their small coven.

A small frown settled on their face as the young witch continued to listen to the repeated lecture. It wasn't like they purposely wanted to mix the lizard tail and mist flower together. It just happened to slip off from their mind the second they dropped the two ingredients together into the pot. [name] can be quite forgetful sometimes but they never intend to do anything with a purpose. They never meant to cause harm. But they had learn to just deal with the scolding and keep silence. They had tried to argue back once only to be sent to their room with no chance of coming out for a week unless it was to go to the bathroom or eat.

With the lecture coming to an end, [name] looked over at their grandmother who had her back turned on them. They glanced around the small kitchen area, grimacing at the mess they created. There was charcoal goo stuck to the walls and floor. Smoke still coming out from the shattered, tilted pot that laid on the ground.

"Now, what do you have to say for yourself?" Their grandmother said in a harsh tone, making [name] shrunk in their spot.

A defeated sigh left their lips as they kept their gaze on the ground. "I'm sorry..." They muttered, their frown deepened. Their grandmother scoffed at the apology before going back to cleaning up the mess.

"I don't know why your mother kept insisting me to teach you about elemental magic if you can't even do the simplest spell without messing it up." [name] bit their lower lip, hands clutching the catalyst behind their back as their grandmother began to badmouth their late mother. "Always had to clean your messes. You need to start getting your act together. I won't be here all the time to pick up after your disasters. No one would. So start taking this seriously... or you would be out of the coven. I don't need a fruitless wannabe witch in my coven." The grandmother let out another scoff and glanced over at [name] when they didn't say anything. She rolled her eyes when she noticed tears threatening to fall from the corner of their eyes. "Just get out. Go collect more ingredients." She demanded. And without another word uttered, [name] quickly left the house with the basket they grabbed from outside the porch and made their way down the mountain of Mingyun Village.

It was frustrating. Their grandmother never gave them the affection they had witnessed other grandchildren received from their own grandparents. It had always been like this even before their mother's passing. Their grandmother had never approved of the marriage between a witch and a human. And she greatly didn't approve of the child between a witch and a human. And she would always greatly express that disapproval no matter how much it hurts the targeted person.

[name] shook their head. All they wanted was to be accepted by their grandmother, even going out of their way to practice magic like her and their mother had done. Gritting their teeth, [name] tried to channel their frustration down. Last time they had gotten angry or their emotions were out of their control, their third eye where the red dotted line was on their forehead opened once and two twin tigers appeared out of nowhere, causing trouble to the small village they resided in with their grandmother. [name] remembered a certain yaksha coming to the village and took care of the tigers. Of course, when he got rid of them, it hurt [name]'s heart when they felt the jaded spear go through the tigers' own hearts, like a sharp pain striking their very core.

It had happened a few times after the first accident and the yaksha would always come to take care of the tigers without knowing the affect it had on the young witch when his spear stab their hearts. The village had grew agitated whenever they see [name] out in public, always steering out of their way. Rude looks would be thrown at their way. Whispered comments would no longer be kept silent. They were sick of it but there was nothing they can't do. At least not right away. [name] didn't know where else to go. They had promised their late mother they would become a powerful witch and prove to others they too can be accepted no matter if they were half human and half witch. But how can they when their confidence were too low and their emotions would go berserk only to get hurt in the end.

"Maybe it's best I just quit..." They muttered as they walked down the path towards Yaoguang Shoal. Their eyes glanced up at the sky, noticing dark grey clouds hovered over the earth. A sigh left their lips as raindrops began to slowly pour over the land. The witch didn't care. They continued their way down the path, avoiding trouble as much as they could. As they reached the beach, their mind were clouded with terrible thoughts about their purpose in life. So caught up in their lonely, self-loathing mind, they failed to see a geovishap hatchling rolled down their way. Their eyes looked up from the dirt ground when they felt a heavy feeling settled deep within their guts.

It's this how I die? A pathetic death cause by a hatchling? Ridiculous... I'm really gonna die alone... I don't want that.

In the last few seconds before impact, [name] felt coldness surrounded their body. Their eyes were shut closed as they stood frozen in their spot, waiting for the reaper to collect their worthless soul. But the collision never came. No, when they opened their eyes, they were met with a sight of a hatchling frozen like ice on their back on the ground. [name] was shock at the sight. Many scenarios and reasons crossed their mind as they tried to figure out what happened. But when they moved their hand to bring the basket closer, they felt a circular object inside the basket. Bringing it up, their eyes widen at the object.

A vision. A Cryo vison.

It was in their hand, real and alive. [name] shakily put the vision back down inside the basket and slowly back away from the hatchling and when they felt safer, they ran back home. No. They can't go back home. Who knows what their grandmother would say. She deemed visions as nothing but uselessness, even if they were blessings from the Archons. [name] took a deep breath to calm themselves down. They would have to avoid going back home. Right now, they need a place. A shelter from rain that began to grow heavy.

Making their way down to the Guili Plains, [name] held the vision closed to their chest. They couldn't believe it. They received a vision. A vision from their Archon. They didn't know if they should be happy or not. Their grandmother's voice would ring through their head, repeating how witches didn't need visions if they can easily learn the practice of elemental magic. If it was so easy, why couldn't they mastered it like she had said. Their late father had a vision once, the witch remembered it clearly. It was a Dendro vision. It was another reason why their grandmother didn't approve of their parents' marriage. To her, he was nothing more than a weak vision carrier. And [name] already knows they were seen more less.

[name] found themselves taking shelter under one of the ruins of the Plains. Shaking off the rain as much as they could, the witch sat down in a rock and looked down at their hands, putting the basket beside them. "It's real..." They muttered, stroking the glass over the vision delicately. They were afraid to break it. The witch looked back, taking in their surroundings before their gaze moved back to the vision, their eyes holding unto a bit hope as their brows creased a bit. "But why me? I'm not special... I'm... a disaster."

#genshin impact #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x male reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao #x female reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x male reader #xiao x male reader #xiao x gender neutral reader #xiao x female reader #xiao x reader #primal writes

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bluesfortheredj · 4 years

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The spy who loved me.

Smut ahead. Like, seriously. Smut.

It had been a long time, a very long time, since seeing Eggsy. Even professional spies weren’t immune to the restrictions and rules when it came to lockdown. The daily texts, phone calls, and video chats had satiated your need for contact with him only so much, and you were both desperate for some intimacy with one another in person. At this point even the thought of holding his hand was enough to make you feel giddy; those slender fingers of his linked with yours again before exploring your body… it was positively breath taking.

Eggsy had stayed in London with his mum and sister in the new house he’d purchased for them only a couple of weeks before the world turned upside down and finally, now that lockdown was being lifted and you could form bubbles with other households, you were on your way to join them thanks to your job allowing you to continue to work from home; not that you were planning on working too much when you arrived. Butterflies were fluttering around your stomach as you pull up on the driveway and see his car parked half in and half out of the garage, and when you knock on the door your heart leaps as you see his familiar shadowy figure walk towards it.

He opens the door with a breathy ‘hey’ and you immediately fall into his chest before his arms wrap themselves around the body he’d missed so very much the last few months. The two of you stand there for what seems like hours yet minutes all at the same time, only separating when you shiver from the cool breeze blowing around both of you in the doorway. His hands stay on your arms as he leans away with a smile to take in the sight of you standing there in person finally, then he bends down to scoop your suitcase up and leads you inside, kicking the door shut behind you both.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he sighs in disbelief as places your luggage down at the foot of the stairs before taking you through to the large lounge, “is this actually real?”

You press your lips to his in what begins as quite an innocent kiss but ends as a desperate, sloppy, heated embrace as he pushes you against the nearest wall before his hands begin to explore every inch of skin he can possibly touch underneath your top. Your hands grab at his jeans blindly, trying to find his belt so you could set him free from the confines of his underwear, and the two of you are freely moaning at the heightened feel of touching one another after so long. Neither of you hear the front door open and then close again, and Eggsy’s mum has to loudly clear her throat for the two of you to even notice that someone else was in the room.

“Shit!” Eggsy gasps, facing away as he does his jeans up.

“Oh my god,” you whisper with hot cheeks as you smooth your clothes down, “I’m so sorry Mrs. Unwin.”

“Sorry mum!”

“I think it can be forgiven under the current circumstances,” she chuckles, “good to see you again (Y/N)!”

Daisy sits in her pram giggling at her own foot and your heart melts at the sight of her, “it’s lovely to see you both, Daisy’s grown so much!”

“She’s eating us out of house and home!” Michelle exclaims, “she’s going through the longest growth spurt I’ve ever known of!”

“Well that’s lucky, because a little birdie told me that she’s partial to a certain dinosaur shaped biscuit, and I happen to have a couple of packs of them in my suitcase.”

“You’re a life saver,” she sighs in relief, “Eggsy, why don’t you show her around the house? I guess you didn’t quite get that far...”

“Will do mum,” he nods as a blush creeps up his cheeks, “this way.”

He picks your suitcase up and leads you up the floating staircase as you take in the very modern and expensive surroundings you now find yourself in.

“Bloody hell Eggs, this house is amazing!” you exhale in disbelief as your fingers glide along the wall.

“Nice, init?”

“Nice? Bit of an understatement!”

“Wait until you see our room… the walk in shower is to die for,” he says with a wink and a light bite of his lip, “plus we’re the opposite end of the top floor so we don’t need to be too quiet.”

You give his arm a playful slap and he takes your hand as the two of you head to his side of the house and the more than generous bedroom he got to call his own until life could continue as normal. It felt as if you were in an episode of Grand Designs with how modern and clean everything was, and you walk through the wardrobe space with long rails either side of you filled with variations of the same suit to the extravagant en suite with charcoal tiles lining the floor and walls and the biggest walk in shower you’d ever seen in your life; only one sheet of glass slap bang in the middle of the room to separate the shower area and the toilet and sink.

“This is literally bigger than my flat,” you groan, “I think I need to become a spy as well.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Eggsy scolds as his brow furrows, “anyway, you’ve got me, and what’s mine is yours.”

“Yeah but that’s not fair for me to rely on you like that, plus I don’t have anything to give you in return.”

“Uh… I would disagree with that statement…”

“Huh?” you question as you look up at the square shower head and wonder what it must feel like underneath it.

You’re so transfixed by the fitting you don’t even notice Eggsy creep up to you until his sultry breath flows over your ear, “you have plenty to give me,” he whispers.

You shiver involuntarily as his fingers creep their way around your hips before walking along into the waistband of your jeans. Your head rolls back to lean on his shoulder as your hands grip firmly onto his forearms while his fingers tease your lips apart and stroke along your hidden folds gently, and you can feel his own excitement at the intimate touch against your backside.

“What would you two like for dinner?” Michelle shouts up the stairs, tearing you both away from your quiet moment and forcing you back to reality with a jolt.

Eggsy groans in frustration as he reluctantly retracts his hands from your body and you find yourself now completely worked up and more than ready for him to show you exactly what you’d been missing the last few months. A sigh escapes your lips as you steady yourself on the shower screen and Eggsy can see just how desperate you are to continue what he’d just started.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t realise how much I missed that.”

What the two of you needed right now was, quite simply, a fuck; something that would just purely release the initial tension that had built during lockdown. You had plenty of time to make love romantically now that you were staying there, and you could take your time with it hen Michelle and Daisy were out doing the food shop or something, but what you needed at this precise moment was a quick and messy release. The two of you look at one another, knowing exactly what was going to happen, and Eggsy quickly runs downstairs to give his mum an idea of what you wanted to eat that would take at least half an hour or so to give you a small window of opportunity.

“Right,” he exhales as he shuts the bedroom door behind him when he returns, “oh…” he pauses as he sees you’re already in his bed, your clothes and underwear in a pile on the floor next to it, and he discards his own clothing on his way over to you.

“How long have we got?” you ask as he settles on top of your body and adjusts the duvet accordingly.

“Like half an hour I think?” he grins before removing his glasses and leaning down to kiss you.

He’s almost pressing his entire body weight onto you as your mouths move around one another’s in a sloppy kiss that’s more teeth and saliva than anything else in all honesty, and your hands are grabbing at every inch of skin you can get a hold of as he manoeuvres himself between your legs hastily and carefully guides his length inside your already slick walls that had been waiting for him for what seemed like so long. The sensation of him inside you and his body on top of yours once more is overwhelming, and it doesn’t take you long to fall into a fast and needy rhythm as you two of you moan unashamedly while the bed rocks beneath you. This is exactly what you both needed; passionate, hot, fast, handsy, loud sex. It was purely to scratch an itch that was in desperate need of attention, and as the need to orgasm heightens with each deep thrust you find yourselves going out of rhythm as the aching for release takes over.

“Eggsy… Eggsy!” you moan as his lips attempt to kiss your neck.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I ain’t gonna last,” he pants against your skin.

The sound of your bodies slapping against one another in quick succession drifts up from underneath the duvet and the two of you are truly lost in the haze of impending orgasms just as Michelle opens the door while asking a question that isn’t even distinguishable to either of you until there’s a gasp at the doorway which shocks you both to stillness.

“Mum!” Eggsy shouts, “get out!”

She quickly retreats and slams the door shut before you hear her practically running away down the landing towards the stairs. You look up at Eggsy who slowly turns to face you, then his lips land on yours within seconds as his hips start up again; his stiff member filling you with ease as your legs wrap around his backside.

“You know I love you,” he breathes heavily between intermittent pants.

“I know,” you nod, “I love you too.”

“Good,” he smiles, then leans his head down and bites onto your breast so he can flick his tongue over your nipple.

You cry out with pleasure at his sudden move and your hands weave their way through his hair to keep him where he is as your muscles begin to tense inside, ready for the much needed release. Before you can get to yours though, Eggsy lets out a hot, stuttered breath over your chest and his entire body tenses as he finally lets go with the longest groan you’d ever heard him make. He soldiers on after his climax and with some encouragement from his thumb rubbing over your sweet spot, you soon clench around him and release to the sound of whispered pants of his name which are emanating from your throat without you even realising. You blink away the stars in your eyes and finally look at his satisfied face hovering above you, then he flops down next to you and takes your hand in his as you both catch your breath.

“You do realise I will never be able to look your mum in the eye again, right?” you chuckle after a few moments of silence.

“Same,” he grimaces playfully, “I think we’ll just hide up here the rest of the night.”

could you make it as smutty as possible with some fluff, there visiting his parents back home and they can’t keep their hands off each other and his parents notice but don’t say anything until his mum walks in on them on the sofa in a very heated and handsy make out they apologise and try forget what happened but then she walks in on them the next evening in his room having sex there embarrassed again but still continue after she has left as they just can’t get enough of each other – Taron or Eggsy – @sarahegerton96

#eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfic #eggsy unwin x reader #taron egerton #eggsy unwin smut

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egcdeath · 3 years

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unwinding

summary: On Valentine’s Day, you receive a bit of a surprise.

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2.2k

author’s note: valentine’s day came early this year. like... over a month early i’m actually pretty proud of this! i hope you all enjoy :)

p.s. this is part of @syntheticavenger‘s lyric challenge, my prompt was: So let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions (Victoria Monet ‘Moment’)

warnings: so much fluff. before you read this, ask yourself (and your dentist) if you’re okay with getting a few cavities.

Being engaged to a fugitive from the law meant a few things.

For starters, your fiancé was almost never home, and when he was home, he wasn’t there for long. Whether it be a 3 AM knock on the door from Natasha, or soft and apologetic eyes bidding you farewell after a 4 day tryst, everything always seemed to end too soon.

The second being that you often had little to no warning when he was coming home, leaving you to go on a mad dash to put on something nice before your partner arrived at your front door. Between random messages from burner phones, and random deliveries of local goods to your door, you were often given short notice of when you’d be able to see Steve again.

Finally, despite his best efforts, Steve was frequently absent from holidays that you used to gleefully celebrate together.

As the soft clicks of the clock increased, and night drew nearer, you feared that your Valentine’s Day would end the same as the aforementioned days, yet, after hearing the chime of your doorbell reverberate through your home, you were filled with a semblance of hope.

You all but skipped down to your door to see what (or who) had arrived, and lit up with glee when you were handed a bouquet of yellow roses with a printed note attached to it.

You didn’t think I forgot about my best girl, did you? Happy Valentine’s Day, Dear. I’ll see you in an hour.

p.s. I just learned that yellow roses represent welcoming someone back, isn’t that nifty?

-S

You couldn’t help but to grin at the note, quickly thanking the delivery person, then bolting upstairs to prepare for Steve’s homecoming.

——

After debating with yourself about which candle scent Steve would enjoy smelling most, and filling up your oversized bathtub with a cocktail of soap, essential oils, and an overpriced bath bomb, you heard the door ring once again. This time, you had a good idea of who you’d be seeing. Upon opening the door, you were far from disappointed.

In the doorway stood your greek god of a fiancé, a lopsided grin on his face despite the scratches, bruises, and dried blood that seemed to litter his body. You immediately reached up to wrap him in a tight embrace and he gladly accepted it.

“Steve!” You cheered, burying your face into his chest, “I missed you so much.” Your words were muffled, and you felt tear stains begin to latch onto his suit. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, before lightly pushing you further into the house.

“You have no idea of how much I missed you too,” said Steve in response. “I never wanna leave you again.”

At this, you somehow managed to squeeze him tighter, and he let out a soft grunt, screwing his face up. “Are you okay?” You asked before letting him go completely. “Take off the suit, let me take care of you.”

----

That’s how you ended up soaking in a bathtub with Steve, running your hands up and down his chest while he leaned his head back and rested his eyes. It became more and more apparent with every second that he was completely exhausted, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

Now usually, you liked to spoil your man when he came back home, but after seeing his pure exhaustion, you decided to go all out. If anyone deserved a few hours of pure relaxation, it was certainly Steve.

You stirred and sat up, sloshing around the purple water that had been dyed by the aforementioned bath bomb, and attempted to readjust yourself so that you could at least make eye contact with Steve, who had now opened his eyes from your sudden movement.

“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the prior comfortable silence, and running a large hand through your hair.

“How about we unwind. Like, really, really unwind. The whole nine yards. I completely meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you, and as much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think that just a bath is gonna cut it,” you hummed while wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, attempting to bring your faces closer together.

“Hmm,” Steve attempted to look pensive, “Only if you insist.” At that, he gave you a toothy smile, then leaned in to close the gap between the two of you, and peck your lips.

Boy, was Steve in for it.

----

Sometime after the bath water eventually became unbearably cold, and your skin was so pruny that you swore it’d slip off, the two of you exited the bath.

The next task you set out to complete was a deep clean of your faces, which could only be accomplished with the help of a peel off face mask. You stood at your bathroom countertop and plugged in a facial steamer after filling the bottom opening.

“What’s that for?” Steve asked with a slight lisp, as he was currently flossing his pearly teeth.

“It’s a facial steaming thing. It’ll be good for your pores before the face mask, or some shit like that,” you stood back and allowed the small machine to make some strange noises as it started up.

Steve tossed the string into a trashcan before leaning over the counter and examining it, giving you the opportunity to press a button and turn the device on.

“What the hell was that?” He immediately recoiled at the sudden puff of steam, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I can’t believe thee Captain America, who fights aliens and takes down governments on the regular is afraid of a little steam machine.”

“Hey, everyone gets startled sometimes,” he turned his head to give you a little pout. “How ‘bout you do it first, and show me how it’s done,” Steve stepped aside at this.

You shrugged a bit and nodded, then took his place at the sink to demonstrate how exactly to steam your face. After observing you for a few minutes, Steve motioned for you to move, and as you did, he made sure to give you a little ass squeeze, gaining him a side eye from you as a response.

“Just put your head right…. there,” you gently pushed his head down, then once his head was in the proper position, you pressed the button that turned the machine on.

“This feels kinda weird. It’s like, tickling me,” he mumbled into the machine while you reached into your medicine cabinet to grab a peel off face mask. Steve began to move his face back, but you shook your head and tutted.

“I mean, that’s kind of the point. Your pores need this. So keep that head down, big boy,” you giggled, beginning to apply the charcoal goop to your face while examining yourself in the mirror.

“Do they, though?”

“Yes! Those poor cells have probably been through hell and back with all of that fighting and… avenging you do.”

“You’re lucky that I love you. But know that I expect something in return for this hard work.”

You lovingly scoffed at this, but were pleased that Steve had found a reason to finally stop complaining.

Once a decent amount of time passed, Steve lifted his face and used the back of his hand to attempt to wipe away some of the dampness.

“Here,” you said softly, grabbing a towel, and softly patting his face with it. “Now the fun part,” you began to apply the facemask to Steve’s face, and he seemed to have no complaints.

“Hey, this feels pretty nice!” He exclaimed.

“Unless you want me to get this all over your beard, I suggest you move your face a little less,” you commented while putting the last of the mask on his left cheek.

He opened his mouth to respond, but decided it wasn’t exactly worth the risk of getting a strange substance in his sensitive facial hair. You finished up putting on the mask, then rinsed your hands in the sink while Steve checked his face out. “Ooo, I can feel it exfoliating already. Are you tingling too?”

You smiled fondly at him, then shook your head and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to the bedroom. Since you were such a good sport, I think you deserve a little treat.” You all but dragged him out of the ensuite, grabbing a fresh towel on your way out, and setting it down on the bed.

“Take your clothes off,” you demanded. “Then lay on the bed face down. Ass up. I’ll be back in a minute.” You winked suggestively at him, then went back into your bathroom to search for the lavender scented body oil hiding in a cabinet.

When you arrived back in the bedroom, you were not disappointed by the sight of Steve with his sculpted back and perky ass out. You allowed yourself a moment to check him out before you spoke. “Hey honey…” you drawled out in a faux sultry tone. “A little birdy told me that you’ve got some sore muscles from all that crime fighting you’re doing…” You ran your hand up and down Steve’s back, and you felt his back heave as he attempted to hold back his laughter.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” He asked, not even trying to hide his chortling.

“Shhh, don’t think. Just let me take away your pain, give me all of your emotions,” you poured a bit of the oil in your hands, warmed it up, then placed your hands on his back. Steve involuntarily let out a full body shudder, and you couldn’t help but to smile at yourself with satisfaction. “Seriously though, try to relax,” you began to knead his upper back.

Steve let out a shaky sigh, and relaxed into your soft mattress. Although the tone of the massage started as a joke, he was feeling more relaxed by the second. Then those seconds seemed to turn into minutes, then… hours? Maybe even days. The point is, Steve fell asleep. Then woke up to the familiar tone of a phone alarm, and a gentle shaking on his shoulder.

“Hey, you can sleep later. It’s time to take off our masks.” You reminded him. “Meet me in the bathroom, but get somewhat decent first.” You gave a little squeeze to his shoulder before walking off.

Once Steve met you in the bathroom, he made a beeline to the toilet and sat down on top of the lid. “Will you take it off for me? I’m too tired to do it myself.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you,” you teased, referencing his words from earlier before you leaned down to his level. You picked at a piece of the mask on his forehead, and began to peel it back, watching Steve screw his face and squeeze his eyes shut.

“Ow, what the fuck, Y/N,” he whined, giving you a little pout.

“I’m sorry. Just think of how fresh your skin will be after this, though. You’ll look so dewy, people will think you just came out of the ice.” You moved to remove the piece on his nose, and gained a similar response.

“Ouch! Double ouch. That was way too soon. Why can’t you be nice to me while you’re peeling off my face?” Steve looked deep into your soul while you peeled around the rest of his face, and you couldn’t help but internally melt a little.

“I only tease because I care. And I’m pulling your skin off because I care even more,” you finished up pulling the last of the mask off, then pressed the back of your hand up to some red parts of his face. “All done. You look like a whole new man, Stevie.”

You stepped back so he could stand up and look at himself in the mirror, and he rotated his face back and forth so he could examine himself.

“You’re so right, Y/N. Stark and the government will never catch me when I look like this,” he teased.

“I’m just a miracle worker, I guess.”

“Well is this miracle worker ready to head to bed? All this self care has been fun and all, but…”

“Say less,” you grabbed Steve’s hand once again, and paraded him out to your bedroom, before flopping on the bed theatrically, and grinning when Steve followed suit.

You rolled on top of your starfished fiancé, and kissed him passionately, threading your fingers through his long, sandy hair and sighing contentedly. He turned his head slightly for breath, then began to speak again.

“What I was saying was,” he said breathlessly, “All of this self care has been fun and all, but now I think it’s time that I show you how I unwind.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #nomad!steve x reader #nomad!steve #steve rogers x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #steve rodgers x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers x y/n #synth's lyric challenge #hey i wrote that lol

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aftermathfanfic · 2 years

Text

Part 2, Chapter 2

“…Tremble before us, mankind! For we are the giants of Vesuvius, the tamers of the infernal mountain!”

“When is it?” Dewey asked.

“Shh, just wait for it.” Louie replied with an eager grin.

The triplets were sitting at the bus stop, Louie in the middle with the other two to either side of him. Louie was showing them a video on his phone, which displayed a pig-man with short, fiery red hair wearing a suit of charcoal black plate armour. In the background behind the pig were Webby and Dewey, scaling a rocky cliff face, looking quite diminutive next to the enormous fire giant.

“In three days’ time, we shall emerge from this place and conquer the world! Tremble at our might, for the age of man is about to come to an end!” The giant roared, holding a massive two-handed axe up high, his voice clipping the phone’s microphone a bit. Then, he looked at the camera expectantly. “How was that?”

“Eh… it was better.” Louie’s voice said from off-screen. “I’m thinking that you don’t want to say ‘tremble before us’ two times in a row, though. You gotta mix it up, or people won’t take you seriously.”

“Right, right.” The giant muttered in a deep rumble, resting the axe on the ground. Behind him, Webby and Dewey had jumped up onto the top of the cliff, silently advancing towards a giant boulder that stood on the very edge – directly above the giant.

“I’m thinking that you keep the first ‘tremble’, but turn the second one can be… ‘kneel before us’, or something like that?” Louie suggested in the video.

“Kneel… oh!” The giant grinned. “How about, ‘grovel at our feet’?”

“Oh, that’s perfect! Yeah, use that.”

“Okay, okay…” The giant rubbed his enormous hands together eagerly. “From the top, one last-”

Before the giant could finish, Webby and Dewey pushed the unstable rock from its perch, where it struck the on top of the giant’s head with a resounding crack.

The triplets immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my God, you were right!” Dewey chortled. “He totally went bug-eyed on that hit!”

“Dude, I know!” Louie laughed. “I could barely keep a straight face during that whole thing!”

“How- how did he not notice you guys?” Huey said in between snickering.

“Uh, cause Webby and I are awesomely stealthy?” Dewey suggested. Then he shrugged. “I mean, we probably wouldn’t have been able to do it if Louie hadn’t convinced the giants to do that whole ‘invasion speech’ thing.”

“Ah, I was only doing that to buy time for Huey and Uncle Scrooge to re-forge that ring.” Louie shrugged. “They’re the real reason we got out of that alive.”

“Oh no, that was the easy part.” Huey said, shaking his head. “Remember the boulders they were throwing as we were leaving? If it hadn’t been for mom’s piloting, we never would’ve made it out of there.”

Louie’s phone suddenly buzzed with a notification, interrupting their reminiscence. He drew it back towards him to read it, while the other two went back to their own business. Huey pulled out a book from his backpack, while Dewey stood up and leaned against the wall of the bus shelter.

“I’d forgotten how good we were at this.” Louie chuckled as he dismissed the message. “Like, we got back into this stuff so quickly.”

“Yeah… we’re pretty great.” Dewey said confidently, his hands behind his head.

“…Where’s Webby?” Huey asked after a while, frowning and looking back toward the school. “She’s usually here by now.”

“Oh, yeah, I got a text from her a couple of minutes ago.” Dewey replied. “Apparently she’s hanging out with Lena and she won’t be home ‘til, like, night or something.” He winced. “Which kinda sucks, ‘cause I needed her help with maths homework…”

“I could help.” Huey offered.

“Oh, God no.” Dewey balked.

“What?”

“Dude, you’re a terrible teacher. Like, Uncle Donald terrible.”

“Wh- how am I as bad as Uncle Donald?” Huey demanded indignantly.

“You always get frustrated when I ask you stuff, or when I do something wrong!”

“That’s because you don’t listen to what I tell you! Not because I’m bad at teaching!”

“I’m also not gonna join you guys.” Louie spoke up, interrupting the argument. “I’m taking the bus to Wildwood.”

“Really? How come?” Dewey asked.

“Eh. Figured I’d go work on some stuff at a café.” Louie replied, still looking at his phone. “I’m thinkin’ Cappuccino Corner. Haven’t been there yet.”

Huey frowned. “You’ve been eating at a lot of cafés recently.”

Louie raised an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“Nothing, just… it’s expensive food to have all the time, that’s all.” Huey replied, going back to his book.

“Hey, I might as well enjoy the funds while I have them.” Louie replied.

“…Funds?” Huey blinked in confusion and turned to him. “What funds?”

Louie smirked. “Oh, just a few small donations from good old Uncle Glomgold.”

Huey’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Uncle who?” Dewey demanded.

Louie put his phone back in his pocket. “Oh man, how do I explain this…?” He leant back on the seat. “See, it came to me a couple of weeks ago when I saw this little article in the newspaper.”

“You read the newspaper?” Dewey asked, surprised.

“Over Scrooge’s shoulder, yeah. So, according to this article, old Glomgold apparently fell for one of those email scams last year. You know, those emails that go, ‘hey, you’re a descendant of a Nigerian prince, you have an inheritance, send us money’.”

Dewey nodded. “Yeah, that tracks.”

“Right. So, when his board of directors found out, they did everything they could to cover it up, and it just now reached the public ear. And after I read about it, I had this little idea…”

“…Oh no.” Huey said in realisation.

“What if I tried to do that?” Louie said with a sly grin.

“You’re scamming Glomgold?” Huey groaned.

“It is so easy, dude.” Louie told him emphatically. “You have no idea how easy it is. He doesn’t understand how finances, or… how anything works. I don’t know how he held on to his company for so long.”

“What did you do?” Dewey asked curiously.

“Well, first, I tested out the waters.” Louie explained. “I sent a letter to his house, ‘cause apparently he has this… gaudy-ass mansion in the northern suburbs-”

“Language.” Huey scolded.

Ignoring him, Louie continued. “-telling him that I was some collector called ‘Phooey Luck’, interested in selling some priceless artifacts to him. And… apparently he thought that was legit.” He remarked with a shrug. “Because he sent a letter back, telling me that he was interested.

“What… ‘artifacts’ did you sell him?” Huey asked worriedly.

“Well, I had a plan. I had to sell him something that looked like it was worth something but wasn’t so valuable that it’d actually cost me anything. You guys have been in Mr Baxter’s office?”

Huey shuddered. “Once. Why?”

“You remember how there was this like, golden cat statuette on his desk? Claimed that he’d gotten it hand-made on a trip to Japan like, twenty years ago?”

“Yeah, I think so… wait, was?”

“Yep. I took that to Glomgold, and I spun some bullcrap that it was part of this set of fifty special figurines that were crafted during the 1850s, each crafted with a specific flaw that made them super-rare.” Louie grinned. “I sold it so well, that Glomgold gave me five-hundred bucks for it.”

“No way.” Dewey said incredulously.

“Yes way. And the only reason he didn’t give me more was-”

“You stole from a teacher?” Huey interrupted, horrified.

“…Well, technically, it was someone else.” Louie said evasively. “Point is, he contacted me again on-”

Huey’s hands flew to each side of his head. “You stole from a teacher!” He shrieked, appalled.

“It was Mr Baxter, who cares?” Louie snapped frustratedly. “I feel like you’re overlooking the fact that I got five hundred bucks for a desk toy!”

“Louie, do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in if you were found out?” Huey cried. “You could be suspended!”

“Oh no, I could get suspended.” Louie said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Lah-di-dah. Anyway,” He turned back towards Dewey. “He contacted me again, told me that he wanted me to get more shiny things for him so that he’d look more impressive than Uncle Scrooge or something, and so now, I have a source of pocket money that exceeds five bucks a week!”

“Wait, did you give him the cat statue in person?” Dewey asked, frowning. “How come he didn’t recognise you?”

“I wore a different shirt and a beanie.” Louie said flatly.

“That was it?”

“That was it.”

“Wow…” Dewey chuckled. “So… what, you’re gonna sell him junk and pretend it’s treasure?”

“That was my first idea, yeah, but it’s not exactly…” Louie hesitated as he searched for the right word. “…sustainable. ‘Cause the stuff I give him has to look valuable, right? If I keep doing that, then eventually I’d be resorting to, like, giving him arts-and-crafts projects with gold paint, and that is a dangerous fucking game. So, I did some thinking…” He grinned evilly. “And I figured that we grab a lot of treasure on our adventures, right? What if I grabbed a piece or two for him?”

“Oh my God!” Huey cried, leaning back even further than he already was.

“…And give it to… Glomgold?” Dewey asked uncertainly.

“Yep. For, like, five times what it’s actually worth, of course.”

“…I dunno man.” Dewey chuckled nervously. “I feel like Uncle Scrooge would be kinda mad if you did that.”

“Yeah, that’s the roadblock I hit into as well.” Louie replied, frowning and folding his arms. “I’d have to somehow nab it without Scrooge noticing, and that’s… gonna be difficult. I mean, I have ideas,” He insisted. “Just… having trouble figuring out how to implement them.”

He was quiet for a moment as he contemplating.

Then, realising he was supposed to be selling the idea to them, he asked with a smile, “Anyway, you guys in?”

“No.” Dewey retorted emphatically.

“Every word you’ve said in the past minute has filled me with horror and anxiety.” Huey murmured faintly.

“Look, I get it, alright?” Louie told him reassuringly. “It’ll just be something small. Scrooge won’t even realise it was there in the first place.”

“It’s not… that.” Huey rubbed his eyes and looked at his brother worriedly. “Louie, have you given any thought to what could happen if Glomgold found you out?”

“I know exactly what will happen.” Louie replied. “He’ll probably lure me into a trap and kidnap me. Then, he’ll send a ransom note to Uncle Scrooge, saying something like, ‘come to this undisclosed location or the kid gets it’. Then, you guys show up, beat whatever henchmen and haphazard trap he put up for it, and then you rescue me, and I learn a lesson about… honesty, or whatever.” Louie finished, twirling his hand dismissively.

“You shouldn’t be so flippant about this!” Huey protested. “Glomgold may not be Magica de Spell, but he’s one of Scrooge’s enemies for a reason!”

“He’s a moron!” Louie argued. “Aside from our first run-in with him, when have you ever felt intimidated by Flintheart Glomgold?”

“He forged a lifelong vendetta with our uncle over a dime.” Huey said insistently. “That is a level of psychological instability that you do not want to play with.”

“Yeah, I’m more in the ‘I-don’t-wanna-be-grounded’ boat.” Dewey said apologetically, scratching his head. “I mean, I’m still getting lectures about stealing Scrooge’s gun. Sorry, Lou.”

Louie glared at both of them, annoyed. “Suit yourselves.” He muttered, leaning back and shoving his hands in his pockets. “You guys better not snitch me out.” He added quickly.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course not.” Dewey replied immediately.

“Seriously, don’t tell anyone. I do not need a lecture from Scrooge.”

Huey clapped his hands together and took a deep breath. “…I can only promise to try.” He said relentingly.

“…Alright.” Louie crossed his arms with a sigh, opting to wait quietly for the bus to arrive.

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #huey #huey duck #dt17 huey #dewey #dewey duck #dt17 dewey #louie #louie duck #dt17 louie #flintheart glomgold #scrooge #scrooge mcduck #fanfiction #fanfic #aftermath #ducktales aftermath

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madame-screams · 3 years

Note

Hey there Ash, Still haven’t left this place yet huh? I’ll make this quick so I don’t take up too much of your time, I would love to order some Bottomless Orange Bars, full of Fluff with a side of a Love Confession, sound good? And you can use whatever MC plating you want, whatever comes easiest for you. :3

🍊°.♡┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈♡.° 🍊

♡🄺🄸🅃🄲🄷🄴🄽 🄲🄾🄽🄵🄴🅂🅂🄸🄾🄽♡

🍊°.♡┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈♡.°🍊

♡ "Order up! Yeah it's been forever since I last left this place. I can't even remember the last full day break I got! To be honest I don't even memories about anything expect for working here..... Weird........ Ah but I probably just don't remember cause I'm tired. Maybe I'll try to catch a quick nap on my next 15 minute break...... Ah anyway here's your order of bottomless orange bars! Hopefully you enjoy them dear, it's always a pleasure to serve you here at Madame Screams~" ♡

A huge thanks to my friend Phobia for proofreading this!

Gn!reader, warnings: spoilers for Beel’s cooking on a rainy day card, swearing and mention of puke

🍊°.♡┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈♡.°🍊

It was a tradition for you and Beel to cook something together every Saturday. This became a weekly event for you after the two of you made raindrop cake together for the first time. You both alternate picking the recipes, and sure, they didn’t turn out perfect all the time, but you two always had a great time.

Beel looked forward to these cooking sessions every week, and they always somehow made themselves his favorite part of the week without fail. His heart would start beating faster every time he thinks about being with you. Your smile and laughter invaded his thoughts constantly. He couldn’t get you out of his head. Sometimes he’d daydream about you for so long he’ll forget to eat. He didn’t even notice he was hungry.

This Saturday, you two were making lava cake, Beel’s choice. You had already gotten out the ingredients by the time he arrived,

“Ah, Beel! There you are!” You greet him with a smile.

“Oh, you already got everything out? You could have waited for me. I would have helped.” Oh, how he loved your smile. Seeing it always managed to cheer him up. Your smile was perfect, just like the rest of you.

“Alright, let’s get started!” You say excitedly as the both of you began.

Gosh, he couldn’t focus. He already messed up his batter three times and isn’t even eating the mess-ups like he usually would. The only thing his mind would let him focus on was you.

“Beel, are you ok? Do you need help making your cake batter?”

He quickly snaps out of his daze.

“O-oh, um-” He can’t even get a sentence out of his mouth. He feels a blush spread from the tip of his ears to his face. He put his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it shyly as he tries to finish his sentence, “Su-sure, that’d b-be great.”

You give him a strange look, cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously, dude, are you okay? You're all red and sweaty. Are you gonna puke?”

“No, I'm fine, seriously. I could just use a bit of help.”

“Alright then!” You say. You try to go behind him to guide him, but he’s a bit too tall. You peep over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as you try to come up with a solution to this very simple dilemma.

“Why don’t you go in front of me? It’ll be easy for me to see what you're doing.” He says, his tone slightly rushed.

“Oh, that’s a good idea!” You slip under his arm and look up at him. “I sometimes forget how big you are compared to me,” you say with a slight chuckle while bringing your hands up to his face and placing them on his cheeks, squishing them lightly.

You’re so close to him. He feels his palms begin to sweat, his blush creeps down the back of his neck, and he feels his hair stand on end. He tries his best to listen to your directions, but he can’t stop thinking about how close you two were. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally finished the batter. His hands are still sweaty and shaky as he began to pour both his and your batter into the molds.

Meanwhile, you’re finishing up melting the chocolate for the center.

“Alright, chocolate’s done! From the looks of it, you're done with pouring the batter in molds,” You say as you walk over to him with the bowl of melted chocolate in your hands. “Scooch over so I can pour the chocolate in!” You instruct, your tone teasing as you gently nudge his shoulder.

The rich smell of chocolate cake wafts through the kitchen. Usually, Beel would be waiting directly next to the oven, ready to eat the cake as soon as it comes out. Today, he was too distracted by you to even notice the smell.

“Beel,” You start, putting your phone down and walking over to him. “Hm? What’s-” You grab his face and bring it near yours, cutting him off.

Beel’s heart hammers in his chest. Multiple scenarios run through his head. Suddenly, he feels dizzy, weak in the knees.

“What’s up with you today, dude? You’ve been acting strange, and I’m starting to worry. So, please, can you tell me what’s wrong? I just want to make sure you’re okay.” The genuine concern in your voice makes his heart beat faster. You’re just… perfect. All he wants is you. He wants to hold you in his arms. He wants to pepper your face in kisses. He wants to be yours.

“I love you,”

“Excuse me?” Your hands fall from his face, mouth slowly parting in shock. His hand goes up to your face, placing itself gently on your cheek.

“I love you,” he repeats, “Please, let me be yours!” He squeezes his eyes shut after his sudden confession, too embarrassed to look at you directly.

Silence fills the room. The only noise to be heard was the warm buzz of the oven. Then, he felt a pair of [soft/rough] lips touch his. He keeps his eyes closed as he leans into the kiss, melting when you place your hands on his lower back.

The kiss continues as he cups your face with his other hand, trying to pull you as close to him as possible. It’s soft and gentle despite it being so long. He’s oh so careful with you, treating your lips as if they’re porcelain. When you pull back, he finally opens his eyes. Your face is tinted pink, and you wear a wide smile that makes his heart flutter.

“So, do you… Do you love me too?”

A light laugh escapes your lips, “Of course I do, you big oaf!”

“Then say it back to me, please?” He asks.

“I love you, Beel.” Oh, now he’s grinning like an idiot, but he doesn’t care.

“Hey, guys, what’s that weird smell- What the hell are ya two doin’?!?” Both yours and Beel’s heads snap to the direction of the screeching.

“Oh, hey, Mammon-”

“Why are ya two so close together, and what’s that smell!?!”

“Now that you mention it, it does smell a bit burnt in here, but it should be fine...” Beel says in a nonchalant tone, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oi, Beel! Yer two close to em’-”

“Beel! The lava cakes are burning! Please let me go!” You yell out in a panic.

After a few minutes of chaos (featuring Beel almost dropping one of the cakes on Mammon’s head), you finally got the cakes ready and aired out the burning smell.

“Well… The cakes are pretty burnt… Sure, lava cakes are usually dark in color, but not pitch black like these ones…” You say with a tinge of disappointment in your voice.

“Maybe you should toss' em? They hardly look edible,” Mammon suggests.

“They look good,” Beel says, already serving himself some.

“Beel, no,” you say, grabbing his wrist before he could put a slice in his mouth.

“So you two never answered my question before. Why the heck were you two being all cuddly?”

“Beel, please, it’s practically charcoal. Don’t eat it.” You say, ignoring Mammon.

“But it looks fine-”

“Beel please no-”

“But it looks good-”

“Beel!”

“Oi, stop ignorin’ me, you two! Answer my damn question!” Mammon yells, banging his fist on the table.

“Oh yeah, we’re dating now,” you say, looking to Beel for confirmation. “Right?”

Beel nods. “Yep.”

“What?!?!”

🍊°.♡┈┈∘*┈୨୧┈*∘┈┈♡.°🍊

#🍊bottomless orange bars🍊#perhaps I might make a more spicier version of this 👀#let know if y'all would be interested!#obey me #obey me swd #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #om! beelzebub #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub x gn!reader

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wyrmy-fics · 3 years

Text

❃ Drawing Subject ❃

Kaeya X Albedo fic.

Hello again! Finally picking back up with writing after a well deserved hiatus. This was written over the course of a month or two so it’s not entirely consistent and doesn’t have a proper ending to it, but I just wanted to write about these two captains realizing how pretty they are…. 🤲 (will edit this over time probably)

Reblogs and requests are appreciated. :)

Includes: Kaeya, Albedo.

Warnings -> N/A

Type: Character ship fanfic.

Intro -

"What is this?" The tune of the calvary captains voice caught Albedo's attention, causing the latter to set down a pair of vials in response. A sheet of paper hung from between Kaeya's fingertips along with a playful grin stretched out.

"That's..." Albedo started, trying to find the proper explanation in this situation. The paper displayed a doodle with only three strokes etched in; a circle for a head, a long string across the circle... And an eyepatch attached. He cleared his throat before continuing, "Klee had requested it. I hadn't the time or proper reference to do much more."

A quiet hum filled the awkwardness in the room as Kaeya examined over the drawing once more. It left the alchemist wondering how it had come into their conversation, much less Kaeya's possession, but the train of thought was soon interrupted.

"You could have at least added the hair."

"That's your concern—?"

"It's an important detail."

"As I said, I didn't have a proper reference to grab such details. Usually I would work with my subject at hand, but—"

"Oh?" This new information peaked Kaeya's curiosity as if a lightbulb illuminated above his head. Setting the paper down to fold his arms across his chest, the captain strode closer. "Then, if you had your subject with you, would you try it again?"

The question had momentarily silenced Albedo while it processed in his mind. It was common to see such a reaction from the other over the simplest things, mostly resulting in some sort of teasing, but never for his drawings. He turned his body to mirror Kaeya's stance, "I suppose I would."

"Great. I'll be free in my office in the next hour or so. Don't keep me waiting too long, will you?"

"All I have to do is sit here, yes?"

"If you please."

The cavalry office wasn't the biggest room in the Favonius Headquarters, but without much of a cavalry to captain, the space was wide enough for one person to do as they please. Any company was welcome to fill in the empty spots and distract him from the agonizing hours of paperwork. Taking advantage of this, Albedo situated an area for him to work.

It was a sight to see; the couch was strategically positioned away from it's usual place against the wall and right in front stood a tall easle. Any type of work to such length should be handled with care, Albedo thought, much to the surprise of the other.

"I didn't know such a request would have struck something in you, Chief Alchemist. I can't say I'm complaining, though," Kaeya said, stepping in front of the couch into position.

The artist in question hadn't looked up from his preparations just yet. Setting the sketchbook in it's place along with the few charcoal pencils, he replied, "Correct me if I'm wrong, Captain, but there's no harm in taking such a thing seriously."

"Nothing to correct here," An amused huff followed his reply.

Everything was set and ready to begin - however, there was one last adjustment to be made first. Finally looking up from the easle with his chin pinched, Albedo spoke up, "If you don't mind, could you remove your boa?"

Kaeya raised an eyebrow, "You're asking me to undress now? If I had known it was that type of artwork, I would have prepared myself a little more." His teasing only resulted in a head shake of the other.

"No, that's not it... I'd like to remove any distractions from your face. But you're welcome to keep it on if you feel more comfortable that way."

That's what intrigued him the most about Albedo - no matter how much the captain tried, there was no way to completely throw the other off guard. It kept things interesting to find himself at a loss for how to gain back the upper hand. Silently accepting the favor, Kaeya reached up to unclip the feathery boa from his shoulder, bringing his cape along with it.

Without such an accessory shaping his face, it was clear to see there wasn't much else to his design. An approved nod from Albedo set them both back into their previous rhythm now that he could focus on each detail - at least in more than three strokes.

Kaeya sat himself down onto the couch and crossed his legs, draping an arm over the back of the frame to give himself a pose that could show as much as possible. "How is this?"

"That's fine," Albedo replied, turning his view back to the easle, "Make sure not to move too much."

The initial sketching process was the slowest part of this whole ordeal. Albedo's primary focus was placing in the guidelines and rough movements in order to capture the pose Kaeya was placed and work from there. Though the room fell completely quiet aside from the paper, it was comfortable between the two.

And then, it began. Detail by detail began to form over the sketch and the charcoal pencil would flip to the rubber end occasionally, letting Albedo render in what was needed. His eyes would dart back and forth from his subject and the piece so that nothing was left untouched; his gaze falling into a more serious and concentrated stare.

From Kaeya's point of view, it was a sight worth remembering. Not once had he seen the Chief Alchemist so willing, so vulnerable. Every little habit had made it's way to the surface as the captain watched with care. The way Albedo would tap the pencil on his chin while thinking of how to properly execute certain details, or the way he would hum to himself in approval after perfecting it. His mouth would twist and turn in different ways as he lost himself in the process, allowing Kaeya's own to turn upright into a small smile.

On the other hand, Albedo couldn't help but use this opportunity to completely take in the sight of the other. What fascinated him the most about the world was the fact he never properly fit in amongst other humans, since he himself was not one. The alchemists goal was to find answers and construct creations during his time in Mondstat, for the sole purpose of his master and to ease his own curiosity.

However, as anyone could have guessed, Kaeya also does not fit in with the other humans of Mond. He was human at the least, but far different than any of the other captains or civillians. What could possibly be under that eyepatch, Albedo wondered as he filled in the gold designs along the leather covering. What kind of secrets hide behind that smile, what creatures have those gloved hands fought?

And in sync, they both recognized each others beauty enveloped in vulnerability. It was the only time to notice the way their skin contrasted each others from pale to tan, forming over their bones and muscles perfectly. The braided hair that was meticulously cared for with utmost patience somehow matched the long and messy blue draped over the couch.

Was this really a request for an artist, or simply two curious individuals wanting a closer look?

The occasional small talk would happen during their session, but the majority of their time together remained in each others quiet company. As it slowly came to a close, the moments they shared were kept confidential between the two. They weren’t ashamed or forced to stay hushed about the events that took place, but there wasn’t a need to flaunt either.

Though Master Jean tends to ask where the framed drawing on Kaeya's desk came from, to which he simply responds, "It was a gift."

Thank you for reading! Not too happy with the ending and can make a part 2 if requested…? :) 💙

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natrogersfics · 3 years

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PREVIEW - Game Plan: Chapter 3

Artwork by @faith2nyc Catch up on Chapter 2 Read on AO3

He can’t breathe. Well, maybe he’s being a touch dramatic. It’s not as if the tightness he’s feeling in his chest right now is akin to having a three-hundred-plus-pound defensive end pinning him to the ground, though Steve’s certainly experienced that enough times to know it’s pretty damn close. And just like when he’s sacked in the pocket, he’s uncomfortable – irritated, even. But the worst part is, he doesn’t actually think it has anything to do with the interviewer that’s been trying to cajole him into a cringeworthy sound bite for the last half hour.

The irony that he’s now sitting for an interview does not escape him. When the Avengers had first announced his signing, the reception was a mixed bag. There were some who cheered, delighting in the idea of him mounting a comeback and raving about what a coup the front office had pulled. Nevertheless, many were skeptical. Hardcore fanatics were, at best, lukewarm about the idea of a former NFC West quarterback jumping to the AFC East. Pundits on Sports Center dissected his ability to play pro ball again after a two-season hiatus. Then there were the ever-unescapable critics. He’s sure they had a lot to say (and likely still do), but if he hadn’t paid attention to them back then, he sure as hell isn’t going to do so now.

Fast forward two weeks, one front page cover, and a charity campaign kickoff later, and suddenly the tides have turned. Such was the number of requests Natasha had received from podcast hosts to talk show producers alike to book time with him that they had no other option but to schedule back-to-back interviews while he trains at the Avengers’ remote facility out in New Jersey. And that’s how he wound up in his current predicament – his patience running thin as he sits mic’d up on a plush leather seat in the Press Room in the middle of his third interview of the day.

“Let’s talk about your career.”

The suggestion comes from his left, where a wooden desk with a surfeit of props across the surface has been situated on the makeshift set. Behind it sits Johann Schmidt, the famously mercurial host of the streaming talk show HAIL HYDRA! and known to sports fans across the nation as the Red Skull – a moniker bestowed upon him for his impossibly sharp features and his penchant for dressing in the fiery color.

“7 seasons, 102 games played, 23,671 passing yards, 171 total touchdowns, 73.4% pass completion rate…”

As Schmidt rattles off a list of his career statistics, he steals a glance towards the front of the room, half expecting Natasha to interject that his pass completion rate is actually 74.3%, not 73.4. But she doesn’t, and he realizes that unlike the last few times she’s cut in when an interviewer misstates a fact about him or his career statistics, she isn’t doing so now because her attention is elsewhere. Or, more accurately, it’s being monopolized by the towering stranger she’s been talking to since the start of this interview whose words now have her tipping her head back in laughter.

The thought triggers a bitter taste in his mouth, and right then and there, it hits him. The inexplicable tension in his body, the irritation he feels – it’s nothing short of the green-eyed monster.

He’s always been competitive. He is an athlete, after all, and he’s almost certain that anyone would be hard pressed to find one that didn’t prioritize winning. But jealousy is just not an emotion he’s ever leaned into. It’s childish, nonsensical, and he’s seen the crazy things it’s driven other people to do. Not to mention the fact that right now, he has absolutely no right to feel it – especially when it comes to Natasha. With that in mind, he shifts in his seat in an effort to shake the feeling away, turning his attention back to Schmidt.

“The New York Avengers haven’t had a successful run in the playoffs in quite some time,” Schmidt states into the windscreen covered microphone before him. “That said, it’s still the most storied franchise in the league, which is why it’s understandable that fans may be dubious about whether or not you’re the right man to lead the team back to glory.” Schmidt pauses, his expression bordering on menacing as he leans forward in his seat. “So, tell us, Steve, why do you think you’re the player to do that?” Schmidt lifts a shoulder. “What makes you so... special?”

“We all know I’ve suffered a major injury and that I haven’t played professionally in two seasons. So, I get it,” he acknowledges. “I get why fans are skeptical to give me a chance.” He shakes his head. “You ask what makes me the man to lift this team back up… What makes me so special? The answer, Schmidt, is nothing.” He shrugs. “It’s true that I’m often associated with LA because that’s where my career began. But at the end of the day, I’m just a kid from Brooklyn-”

“Just what every fan base wants to hear, am I right?” Schmidt interrupts, practically reveling in delight as he smirks. “The savior they’ve been waiting for… and he turns out to be nothing but ordinary.”

“Perhaps you see it that way, but I disagree,” he says, prompting Schmidt to raise a brow. “Being a kid from Brooklyn means that I can’t” – he pauses, shaking his head – “I won’t back down from a challenge.” He sighs. “So, while I can’t guarantee fans a Lombardi at the end of the season, what I can guarantee is that every time I put on that uniform, I will leave my heart out on that field.”

Schmidt is stunned into silence, and it’s only when the room suddenly bursts in applause that he comprehends why the man’s glib expression has soured into a scowl. Turning away from the host, he allows his eyes to sweep across the room to see the entire crew – both from the Avengers and from HYDRA – clapping enthusiastically. As he spots Darcy and Wanda in the corner, both of whom offer him two thumbs up, pride begins to surge through him. But it’s only when he sees Natasha next to them, her lips quirking as she gives him a nod of approval, that he smiles – his earlier discomfort all but forgotten.

“You killed it!” Natasha exclaims as he walks towards her at the end of the interview, and he’s surprised when she leans in to wrap her arms around him.

“Think so?” he says, returning the embrace and letting his lips pull upwards into a smile.

“Know so,” Natasha says as she pulls away. “Oh, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Natasha moves to his side, and he looks up to see the man she was talking to earlier standing before them. He’s dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his stature massive enough that he could easily be a tight end or even a center. “Steve,” Natasha begins, “this is Thor Odinson, CEO of Point Break, the country’s leading athletic wear brand and your new sponsor.” Her words cause the tension in his shoulders to dissipate. “Thor, this is Steve, our starting quarterback.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Johann Schmidt stunned into silence before,” Thor says, flashing his perfect teeth as he smiles and extends his hand out to him. “Seriously, good job.”

“Thank you,” he says, shaking Thor’s hand. “But that was all Natasha. She prepared me well.”

He beams in pride as he turns to Natasha, because if he’s learned anything in the last two weeks, it’s that her dedication to her job is unparalleled. Every day since this media campaign has started, she’s easily the most prepared person in the room – ready to fire off a Plan B, C, or D when necessary. While things haven’t always been smooth sailing, he’s certain that nothing has ever escalated into a mishap because of her quick thinking. If he’s had any success in turning the public’s opinion on him, it’s only because he’s been fortunate enough to have her as his guide every step of the way.

More impressive than Natasha’s work ethic though, is her capacity for kindness, and it’s something he’s witnessed time again throughout their relatively short time together. As his Publicist, she’s often the first line of defense when it comes to the media, and though he’s only been back in the public eye for a brief period of time, he’s seen how brash they can be when they press her for information. And yet, she’s never been anything but professional, even when the person before her does not warrant it. Add to that the way she watches over her team and how lovingly she speaks of her sister, and he’s not sure how anyone can do anything but admire her.

“This one,” Thor says, pointing a thumb at Natasha, “is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” he says to her more than anyone else, and as she playfully rolls her eyes, he pretends not to notice the hand Thor places on her shoulder.

“When he can nail interviews like that, my job is basically a breeze,” Natasha says, turning to Thor. “Anyway, shall the three of us discuss the rollout strategy for the sponsorship?”

“Yes, let’s,” Thor says, gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way, Nat.”

He arches a brow as he follows them out of the Press Room. Nat?

Read all of chapter 3 here

#Romanogers #Game Plan #natrogers #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #One Night Stand AU #steverogersedit

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munamania · 3 years

Text

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin.

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend.

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence.

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

#stranger things #hawkinsholidayhiatus #tuserjake #byler #byeler #mike wheeler #will byers #fanfiction #playlist #ik it might be a lil cheesy/dorky BUT i hope it makes u smile it was written w a lot of love <3 #mine

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Always There

This was an attempt at some Scott and Virgil for the Earth and Sky challenge. There was a prompt and then another prompt, but the result resembles neither of them and kinda went and did its own thing. So um, Scott and Virg fic ::shrugs:: I give up.

Thank you to both @scribbles97 and @tsarinatorment for both bolstering my confidence when I was swearing at this one and for keeping me in line :D You guys make me better ::hugs you lots::

I hope you enjoy whatever this ended up being.

-o-o-o-

He was there.

Always there.

There had never been a time he didn’t expect it, yet he had never taken it for granted. His brother was just there. Usually somewhere in the background.

Quietly watching.

Thinking.

He didn’t have to say anything. Scott could tell by the cant of an eyebrow, the settling of a hip or the shift of his shoulders. It was subtle, but Virgil broadcast his thoughts on a frequency Scott was tuned to and indicated his opinion.

Scott valued that. Ever so much. He lauded his brother’s capability and trusted him more than he did himself.

So, when Virgil stiffened at the sight of the man who walked into the office, Scott definitely took notice.

Virgil wasn’t even meant to be there. He had simply accompanied Scott into the office in London as a prelude to the main reason why they were in town. Gordon had already gone ahead to Penelope’s along with Alan and Grandma. John was due down in the afternoon. Virgil had come with Scott to the office just to keep him company.

And now he was wired tighter than one of his piano strings.

Scott eyed him a moment before standing up and walking around the desk. He held out his hand in greeting. “Mr Yost, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Scott Tracy, well I never. May I call you Scott? Call me Hows. It is great to finally meet you.”

Scott’s hand was gripped with both of the other man’s and far too tight.

Exuberance abounded.

Virgil stood up slowly and buttoned the jacket of his charcoal grey suit.

There was nothing aggressive about the movement, but it set alarm bells ringing in Scott’s head. He straightened and gestured in Virgil’s direction. “This is my brother, Virgil.”

Virgil had been sitting beside the desk, thumbing through his phone a moment ago, waiting for Scott to finish signing the pile of papers his secretary had dumped on him when he walked through the door. So there was no obstruction to walk around to meet the out thrust hand of their guest.

But Virgil didn’t move and ignored the offered hand. He only dipped his head. “Mr Yost.”

“Er, uh, yes, nice to meet you.” The man fumbled and wiped his hand against the white of his suit pants.

Scott blinked and wracked his brain for a reason why Virgil was so hostile. What had he missed?

Yost frowned up at him.

Scott cleared his throat. “Well, Mr Y…Hows. What can we do for you?”

“Oh! Yes, I heard you were in town and rushed over immediately. I would have sent my proposal electronically, but since you were here, I just knew you would want to see me in person.” The man was positively babbling.

Scott was seriously reconsidering his decision to let the man in.

Yost must have picked up on Scott’s thoughts because his expression changed to one more of panic. “Right, yes, my proposal. How would you like to be the owner of the tallest building in the world?”

Something made Scott look at Virgil at that very moment. The sudden fire in his brother’s eyes was startling.

Apparently, they didn’t want to be owners of the tallest building in the world.

Back to their guest… “Uh, no, I don’t think we are interested, Mr Yost.”

The man frowned. “But you haven’t seen my proposal yet. It’s called Tracy Tower, after your father and shaped perfectly like a rocket.”

Virgil took a step forward and Scott stepped between the two men. “No, I’m sorry, Mr Yost. Thank you for thinking of us, but we are not interested in building anything right now.” He began to shoo the man out.

“But, but, but, you were calling for proposals!”

“Sorry, my mistake.” He held open the door and gestured to his assistant. “Carly, could you please show Mr Yost out. Thank you.” Scott smiled politely to the flabbergasted man as his EA ushered him out.

Scott shut the door quietly behind him.

Virgil grunted and sat back down. “Thank you.”

“Speak to me, Virg.”

“Two words. ‘Crystal Spire’.”

Scott blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m not.” Virg was fiddling with his phone again.

“I thought that guy had his…everything revoked.”

“So did I.” Virgil put his phone to his ear. “Penny? Yes, we will be there shortly. I have a quick one for you.” A pause. “Yost just tried to sell Scott a development proposal.” There was a sharp sound from the phone. “Uh huh. Thank you, Penny.” Virgil smiled. “Tell Gordon he can wait. We will be there shortly.” A grin. “See you soon.” And he hung up. Virgil looked up at his brother. “Whatever he has, he will no longer have within the hour.”

“You really don’t like this guy, do you?”

“He burnt my ‘bird while Alan was in it.”

Cold washed over Scott. “That one.”

“Yes, that one.” Virgil grumbled and went back to playing with his phone, conversation obviously ended.

Scott walked back behind the desk and took his own seat, determined to plough through the last of the reports he had to sign. It wouldn’t hurt to get over to Penny’s asap.

To check on his littlest brother for no reason whatsoever.

Virgil was a quiet presence beside him. It felt right.

Because he was always there.

Where Scott needed him to be.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #earth&sky2021 #earth and sky

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tsuumu · 4 years

Text

akaashi and his s/o trying face masks.

anon!! can i just say this is the most adorable request ever... like this really brought out my love for domestic headcanons n fics so tysm for requesting!

this ended up becoming more of a short fic than a hc post??? but i hope it’s close to what you were looking for!

• you and akaashi have been living together for quite some time now, so you’re pretty used to each other’s habits and routines even though they differ greatly.

• he’s well aware that you’re somebody who takes their skincare seriously and often lectures him on the importance of keeping your skin clean and mosturised. you’re one to drag him out with you when you’re buying new things to try. he’ll protest lightly that there’s no need to hoard these things but goes with you anyway.

• though keiji himself doesn’t pay much mind to the vast details of skincare, he can’t help but poke his nose into the things you buy, just out of pure curiosity. as he’s brushing his teeth, his eyes will wander and he’ll start unscrewing caps and timidly sniffing things, squinting at labels and even applying it to the back of his hand; nothing more than that though.

• one cool evening, you’re both working on respective things, akaashi buried deep into his editorial work. you’re a little exhausted from your own tasks and decide your complexion needs a pick-me-up, so you pad over to the bathroom and pull out a charcoal face mask. akaashi just absently eyes you, poking his head up from all the papers scattered around him.

• your eyes meet as you’re exiting the room and you’re both pretty quiet. an idea pops into your head.

“do you want to try this with me?”

he’s silent as first, staring at the tub in your hand. the man is oblivious to what it is, so you throw the small object at him.

“it’s good for getting the dirt out of your pores.” you explain. “you’d be surprised how much there is in there!”

• his reaction is like a cat that’s been given something completely foreign, shaking it, tapping it a little. with a small inspection process, he caves in. he’s exhausted from his workload and needs a break anyway.

• so you both move to the bed, you crawling to nestle in front of him. brushing the hair from his forehead, you plant a gentle kiss before twisting the tub open, you pause.

“oh, wait.”

your body rushes to get up and scoot off, returning with a warm, wet towel.

“this is just to help open your pores up! just sit still.”

• akaashi treats it like a doctor’s exam, doing as you ask and staying perfectly still, holding onto the hem of your shirt and fiddling with it idly as you lightly dab on his face.

• his skin is already naturally clear, it’s what compliments his pretty complexion. you’ve always been SUPER jealous of it, telling him time and time again that he should be thankful he’s been blessed with perfect skin.

• after a minute of that, you pick the face mask up and shift your weight to balance properly, slowly, dipping your finger into the tub and spreading the black substance all over his face. trust me when i say: he is SO confused.

“why does it smell like that?”

“like what?”

“i dunno, kinda spicy.”

“keiji—“

“i don’t know how else to describe it!”

you hush him with another quick peck to the lips and keep going until his face is covered with the face mask. his immediate reaction is to get up and stare at himself in the mirror.

“i look terrifying.”

“nobody else is watching!”

“i know, but still...”

•he pokes his tongue out at his own reflection, before returning to you.

“let me do yours.”

you oblige, warning him to use the stuff sparingly, tying your hair back and letting him reciprocate the same process onto you. akaashi is very cautious and gentle when applying it. he’s sickeningly good at this.

• you two spend the next twenty or so minutes in bed, giggling at each other’s faces. he wraps his arms around you and holds you close, mumbling out half-hearted conversation. you’re okay with it, happy just to be with him.

•the time comes for you to take it off. he jabs at the surface of the mask, alarmed that it’s hardened.

“(y/n), how am i supposed to take this off?”

you scratch your head sheepishly.

“about that...”

• it’s not the easiest process. the once quiet and observant akaashi is now acting like a complete child, whining that it hurts when you tug on the surface. you roll your eyes and tell him it’s normal but he’s having none of it.

“go faster...”

“you have to go slower so that you take all the dirt out. it’s not like a bandaid!”

“but i’m in pain.”

“you’re such a baby.”

• he’s a handful until you finally peel off the last section, the boy’s nose is all scrunched up in distaste, grumbling quietly as you shift your attention to the results, squinting at the underside of the mask. you show him and he quietens down immediately, zoning in.

“what the hell is that?”

“the stuff trapped in your skin.”

“oh my god.”

• he’s grossed out but also weirdly fascinated as to how the mask did that. then, you two move onto taking yours off. keiji sits you on his lap, tugging at it gradually as per your request. quite frankly, he’s offended at how indifferent you are to the pain. you’re used to it.

• he vows never to do it again because it felt like ripping his skin off, but you find later on that month, he’s got his own tub of cosmetic charcoal on the bathroom counter. when you enquire about it, he shrugs nonchalantly.

“it says on the box that it’s less painful but very effective, plus, seeing the results has scarred me. i don’t want that stuff just sitting on my face. let’s do them together, it was fun with you.”

safe to say, you converted him.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #akaashi headcanons #akaashi scenarios #akaashi x reader #hq #i accidentally deleted this post #shhhhh #you didn’t see this #akaashi is a cute boyfie #haikyuu headcanon

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heyheyloki · 4 years

Text

Dark Star

Summary: The prince of the Clover Kingdom and Yami speak on important matters.

Yami Sukehiro x M!Reader

Word Count: 2701

The Clover Kingdom. A place were magic ran through the streets from the royal kingdom to the forbidden realm. Under the rule of the Wizard King, Julius Novochrono, peaceful times were possible. During those peaceful times made an unexpected miracle occur, the first prince of the Clover Kingdom was born. He was born with exceptional magic power, much like his father, as well as inheriting his father’s kind and gentle nature. As well as an extreme fondness for magic.

There was no easy way of saying that a lot was expected of him. Both from his own kingdom that he would one day rule, and those of his Magic Knights that his father commanded. Each of the captains had high expectations for him, as well as deep respect for the young man that would command them one day. Though, there was one captain didn’t care much for that. Captain of the Black Bulls, Yami Sukehiro.

It was a shock to you at first when you were old enough to understand your title, your status. You tried way too hard to try to make Yami respect you on the level the other captains do. It was entertaining to your father for a while, and just overtime it became a normal thing. Yami would always be calling you stupid nicknames, beat down on you for the smallest things like height or lack of muscle, but the one thing that got under your skin was the way he effortlessly able to disrespect you in front of other royals. It was one thing when it was just in front of your father, but another to do it with high standing royals around.

You were going to be the Wizard King one day. With your skill, power, influence, and trust within the people, no one doubted that you would be next in line. They were excited of course, you were Julius’s son, they believed you would accomplish what your father had and then some. Though, when you were around the captain of the Black Bulls, some second-thoughts grew. Simply, they thought of you still a mere child, despite you reaching the age of twenty, they still saw some childish antics within you shine disgracefully with Yami.

For this reason alone, you called Yami down to the royal capital. You knew you needed to get some things straight with him, even if you had to detach yourself from the budding joy you found within his teasing. He was the only one that made you feel like you could forget your title, sure, but you knew that if it kept up it could cost you more then what you were willing to lose.

As you were dealing with paperwork in your office, a transmission spell appeared in front of you with Marx’s face clear to see. You gazed up from the endless white sheets filled with headache inducing black ink, happy just to have a new sight in front of you.

“What’s wrong, Marx?” You asked with a soft smile. You were always fond of your father’s handler. He was kind, and always tried to put your father in his place when it came to his duties about being the Wizard King. In truth, he was like family to you in way.

“Sir, the captain of the Black Bulls has just arrived.” He explained with a deadpanned expression. You knew he wasn’t a fan whenever Yami came to the capital, after all, he tends to poke fun at Marx’s haircut.

“Thank you,” you hummed out. “I’ll be right there.”

You watched as Marx nodded in conformation before ending the call, his magic dying in turn. When you stood up from your desk, you paused. Your hands laid flat against your wooden desk, chest falling as you took in careful breaths to calm your racing heart that pounded with anticipation, anxiety, and excitement all in one. Once you knew you had a grip on your emotions, locking them away in a steel prison, you patted down on your clothes to rid any dishevelment before traveling the halls that led outside.

Your footsteps were loud in your ears throughout the entire way, though, that didn’t stop you from rising your head and keeping your eyes forward. When you reached the outside of the palace, you paused and locked your eyes on the man before you. He was as disorganized and without a care in the world. Normally, all magic knights have some sorta of uniform throughout their entire squad. Yami was different. He allowed his squad to wear whatever they pleased, as long as they had on the Black Bull’s robe. He was absolutely no exception to this. All he had on was a simple white tank top that showed off his wide, muscular shoulders and black pants.

You gulped hard, taking in a final breath as you watched him approach you. The cigarette that hung in his mouth was taken between his fingers, the white smoke leaving his mouth and nose before disappearing into the air.

“Whatcha summon me for, princey? I was planning on playing the gentleman’s game of chance, yanno.” Yami asked, his tone unwavering in the ears of the prince.

“You could do well to show his highness at least some respect.” Marx uttered out at the captain.

“Shut it, Mushroom-head. Princey and I are about to have a conversation.” Yami calmly said. “I bet Julius needs some supervising, why don’t you go and leave us be?”

Marx was held his tongue reluctantly in your presence. His eyes darted towards yours, asking if you wished him to leave. You stared at him for a moment before nodding your head, leaving Yami and you outside of the palace.

“Let’s take a walk.” You said calmly, your voice smooth and down to its natural pitch. You began to walk forward, your feet guiding you past Yami’s body without any other words.

When you past him, it was like as if the air had turned unbelievably cold against his skin. It was an odd sensation, and one he was frankly not fond of. His charcoal hues made sure to never let you leave his line of sight, watching as your back faced him in such a distant manner that left a sour taste across his tongue. In that moment, he took a puff of his cigarette, his mind numbing as he stopped his thoughts from wondering.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered under his breath before his own body started to catch up to your own.

You both walked into the common realm side by side in mild conversation. You greeted your people with a gentle smile and calm demeanor, some afraid to approach you with Yami at your side. But, what got away from you was the small glares he was making at people who tried to approach you. It wasn’t long after when both of you came to a food stall and grabbed something to eat, the chance to talk to one another in peace finally came around.

“What you wanna talk about anyway?” Yami asked. “You better not have dragged me out here for nothing. I’ve a very busy guy, yanno.”

You rolled your eyes. “Busy doing what? Gambling?”

“Ouch, and here I thought you knew me better, Princey.” Yami chuckled, his shoulder bumping into yours in a playful manner.

You sighed, patting your shoulder to numb the rushing heat that came from that single area. After a moment of silence, you took in a deep breath and said, “What I requested and frankly, command you to do, if not that complicated.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Yami asked with a coy grin across his lips, his eyes shining with something hopefully that caused butterflies to rumble within your stomach.

You composed yourself once more. You were the prince of the Clover Kingdom. You were a prince, for God’s sake. One man, a man that was older and a long time friend should not be able to effect someone like you like this. Then again, he was. And it was seriously starting to get under your skin.

“The other royals think little of me.” You said. Yami’s smirk quickly dying. “They believe me to be a mere child, even if I am an adult, they see me like an irresponsible child that is not fit to run the kingdom.”

“How come? You do something to piss them off?” He asked curiously.

“Not exactly.” You hummed. Your voice growing uncomfortably cold when you hissed out, “It’s because of you.”

“Me?” Yami questioned with widened eyes.

You nodded. “They think my being around you is causing me to become influenced by the Black Bull’s rough nature. I’m not asking much. All I request of you is to act professional around me when it comes to outings in public. Stop your advances.”

Yami remained quiet. The only sounds you were able to hear were the faint sound of your people chattering with one another over the deafening loud intake of nicotine from Yami. His breath louder than any yell that Asta has made in your presence.

Then, he moved. You thought he would leave and just follow your orders. You prayed, hoped even that he would just obey you and walk away. Save you the heartache of standing next to him and not be yourself with the only one you could truly be the real you around. Not some prince. Not the next leader of the Clover Kingdom. Just, you.

However, that was just wishful thinking. It felt like a volcano was suddenly woken up within you when you felt his large, muscular hand stand across your lower back. It was like as if he didn’t have his dark magic anymore, but flame instead, causing his fingertips to have the smallest flames upon them. It was slower than normal, at least in your mind it felt like that before he hooked his fingers roughly into your side and tugged you into him.

A small grunt came from your chest when you felt your body and his connect. The cold air that was taunting both of your bodies completely gone, now, only warmth enveloped you. Though, it wasn’t comforting. It was hot, steamy, and frankly uncomfortable. You knew it was your nerves that ruined the experience, but in a way you knew this wouldn’t be as calming as you would have liked. Overtime though, you suspected it would get to that stage.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” he paused. His breath low and rough against your ear, “but the last time I checked, I don’t take orders from you.”

You felt your hues widen for a split moment, your throat downing a large gulp that made you even more nervous. You knew Yami liked to have his fun, to flirt and make mild advances from time to time. And yeah, perhaps it made you eventually fall for the boorish man, but he had never escalated to this much contact before. It felt weirdly good, though, you did suspect yourself of turning into puffy before the man that grabbed you when he started to slowly lower his large hand. Gripping into your clothes harder with every passing second.

You weren’t about to sit around and let him do whatever he pleased. Especially if it met he gained the upper hand in the situation.

Quickly, you swallowed your nerves and gazed up at the man. For a moment, the look in his eyes startled you to the point of goosebumps across your royal skin. It was as if hundreds of emotions piled onto one another to create the perfect gaze that was both seductive and terrifying. Still, in all your years of living, you had never backed down from a fight.

You did your best to hide your immediate reaction and quickly change it into a cocky, yet frustrated expression that painted on your face. You couldn’t help but still feel that unease pit that rested in your stomach, though. You thought, maybe even for a second, that he knew.

“I’m just asking a simple request.” You stated. “One day, when you do order to me, I will get you back for this, Yami.”

Yami kept his gaze onto you, a low hum rumbling from deep within his chest before gripping a bit rougher around your waist. Your bodies basically having no room to breathe on their own.

“It’s not that simple.” He stated. “Who cares what those damn nobles say anyway? Aren’t you the prince of the Clover Kingdom? I thought you were the one that gets to decide what you do and don’t.”

“Well, I do require the trust of my people and that does tend to include ‘damn nobles’. All I ask is to respect me as you would my father when others are around.” You explained.

“Yeah, well,” Yami started out saying. His eyes flickering for a moment away from your eyes. “That ain’t gonna happen.”

“And why’s that? I am your prince, yanno.” You asked, a questionable look in your eyes. It was one thing for Yami to tease you, but this was getting ridiculous. He was supposed to respect you as a prince. He did it with your father, and he knew him from a young age. So, what was so different?

“Well, there is one reason.” Yami stated with a sly grin.

You cocked your head to the side, your breath hitching at the swift moment your eyes got a hold of. Yami, without any hesitation, grabbed his Black Bulls rob from his body and let it fall upon your head, effectively hiding your face from any on lookers. Yami, in that moment, had you all to himself. And he took it without a second thought.

Before your lips could form out words, you felt a pair lock onto yours. They were soft, sweet and yet the faintest sensation of cigarette smoke caused those lips to tingle more than normal.

You hesitated for a moment. Everything need to calm down in your mind before you even tried to kiss him back, let alone take the lead. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want this, it was just so unexpected. The man that you admired, maybe even loved, had actual made a move that you never even dreamed of doing. You just didn’t have the time. As the prince, your responsibilities got in the way of doing anything that you would have liked to do. So, you’ve never kissed anyone either.

Yami knew this. He practically knew everything about you, because of that, he didn’t move. Though, after a moment or two, he began to lead. His lips moved slowly, showing that he wasn’t in a rush. You appreciated that.

He began to follow his lead, syncing his movements with yours for the best feeling. It didn’t take a second longer after to feel the way your heart beat. It was like a bullet train, almost going so fast and so hard to break from your ribcage and collide with Yami’s heart. There was something about it that was romantic, exciting yet on the other side of the coin it was scary. Scary solely because you didn’t notice how hard you had fallen for the Black Bulls’s captain until he pressed his lips to yours.

When he pulled away, it didn’t feel real. The tingly sensation trailed away from your lips and down your entire spine, a shiver taking over your body. It was a second or two after you fluttered your eyes, hoping that he would continue and never stop until you both drew your last breath. When you did open to look at him thought, that prideful yet loving gaze Yami gave to you was unmistakable.

“I’m not going to follow your orders.” Yami stated lowly, his voice so husky and close to your sense of hearing that made your feet suddenly shift under you.

You nodded, understanding why. It wasn’t for lack of respect. He had that for you and more, maybe even more for you than your father. It wasn’t that at all. Instead, he just couldn’t bear the thought of not being himself around you. He didn’t want to fake your relationship, no matter what it was, and no matter for how long. Once again, this one damn guy had done something unpredictable. One thing that allowed to throw your title away and just be yourself.

#black clover #black clover x reader #black clover x male reader #yami sukehiro x reader #yami sukehiro headcanon #yami sukehiro x male reader #x male reader #male reader

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stiltonbasket · 3 years

Text

blue of sea, blue of sky

by stiltonbasket

The year Nie Mingjue turns twenty-three, he marries the youngest moon god, Lan Xichen.

(In which Lan Xichen is the Emperor of Night, Nie Mingjue is a humble fisherman, and Lan Jingyi is the half-mortal child growing up between them.)

As far as Nie Mingjue can remember, none of the stories about mortals falling in love with gods have ever ended well.

“They all end with the mortal lover dying, and the god grieving for eternity,” he grumbled, long before he knew just who—and what—his own best friend would grow up to be, someday. “Why do you like them so much, A-Huan?”

“Well, the moon goddess bestowed immortality upon her husband,” Lan Xichen laughed. “And though he could not join her, she could come when the moon was full, and visit him.”

It is only later that he learns that the moon goddess from Xichen’s stories had married a young scholar and had two children with him; both sons, one human and one half-divine, and that the elder was fated to join his mother among the stars while his brother would remain on earth, with his father.

“That’s a sad story, too,” he complained—now with Xichen’s lips brushing his cheek, even though Mingjue’s skin smells of salt and the sea, and with their hands entwined on the soft grass beneath them as they gaze up at the sky. “She had to leave her husband, and now her son has to leave his didi.”

That last stung most of all, because Mingjue has a brother of his own, and leaving Huaisang would break him in a way that even his parents’ deaths never did.

“It doesn’t have to be,” his beloved whispered back. “Not for us, my heart.”

Perhaps it was then that Nie Mingjue knew the truth, but he refused to accept it until a year later, when Xichen finally kissed him goodbye on the prow of his little fishing boat and ascended in a blaze of silver starlight.

“I’ll bring something back for you,” Xichen said tenderly, dabbing the tears off Mingjue’s face. “Something very small and sweet, for you to remember me by until I can come to see you again.”

And then he could no longer doubt that his husband would return, because Xichen always keeps his oaths; and he keeps this one, too, descending on the tenth full moon after his departure with a drowsy infant in his arms.

“This is our son, beloved,” he smiles, as Nie Mingjue bows his head and soaks the baby’s sleeping face in tears. “His name is A-Yi.”

None of the other stories have happy endings, he thinks, when his newborn son fills the night with a wail that frightens away all the fish within a hundred yards of their boat. But this one—this one does!

Lan Jingyi is four years old when he decides to find out why he can only see his A-Die once a month.

“Your A-Die is traveling far away,” his father tells him, bouncing him up and down in his lap while he takes apart a chicken carcass for soup. Father is very good at that, since he can disassemble birds and beasts and great fanged fish no matter how big or small they are, and then he makes delicious meat soups and stews in the kitchen with xiao-shushu’s help. “He can only come once a month. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Can we go see him?” Jingyi asks instead, chewing on a dirty spoon until his fuqin pokes his nose to make him stop. “Fuqin, I miss him.”

The look in his father’s eyes is very sad and far away, and sometimes he wonders how much Father must miss A-Die, if it hurts Jingyi so much to be without him.

“I miss him too, A-Yi,” Father sighs, kissing the top of his head. “More than you can imagine.”

Father misses A-Die with all his heart, so much that he covers the wall with charcoal sketches and paintings of him. He keeps them hidden with thick black curtains whenever anyone visits, though–to keep guests from losing their senses to A-Die’s divine beauty, Uncle Huaisang says, even though Jingyi insists that the whole world should know how pretty A-Die is.

“They already do!” Father laughs, when he says so for the tenth time. “Go ask anyone you know what the most beautiful thing in the heavens is, and you’ll see.”

Jingyi tries this out at school one day, and his teacher–Maiden Jiang, father always calls her, though Jingyi just calls her Aunty–tells him that the loveliest thing in the night sky is the full moon, fully risen and surrounded by twinkling stars.

“The stars come second,” she goes on, very seriously, as if Jingyi had begged her to fill his chubby little palms with treasure instead of just asking her a question. “But the moon rules the realm of night, just as Lord Sun rules the day.”

“You were right,” Lan Jingyi says to his father, when he gets home that afternoon. “Even Aunty Jiang knows that A-Die is the most beautiful person in the world, and she knows everything.”

And A-Die is the most beautiful person in the world, because when he visits, everything he touches glows silver and white like moonlight kissing the ground, and his skin is so smooth and fair that even Jingyi’s favorite bracelet–a first-birthday gift from his little uncle, strung with round beads made of mutton-fat jade–looks dingy and dark when he holds it up to his A-Die’s high forehead.

“Is this a present to remind me of my A-Yi?” A-Die laughs, cradling Jingyi close to his breast and covering his face with kisses. His dark hair slips over his shoulders and covers Jingyi’s back like a blanket, if blankets were cool and silky and soft and covered with little sparkling gems that nearly outshone the stars. “Then A-Die will wear it every day, to think of his little moonbeam.”

“No, no!” Jingyi giggles, snuggling deeper into his A-Die’s embrace. “A-Die has to give A-Yi presents. That’s the rules.”

“Hmm.” The soft gleam in A-Die’s eyes dances like light reflected on moving water, and he thrusts his soft hands into his pockets before pulling out–

“A bird!” Jingyi gasps and lets the little creature perch on his hand. It isn’t like the birds he sees every morning, but it sings even more sweetly than they do, and its wings are made of pure white snow with tiny carved-ice feathers. “Is he a real bird, A-Die? Can A-Yi give him a name?”

A-Die nods and pulls Jingyi even closer. “What will Jingyi call him, then?”

“Xiao-Bai,” he decides, missing the tender, loving looks his parents exchange over his head. “He will sleep on my pillow, and I will feed him Wei-shushu’s tianzi xiao. And chicken.”

Father makes a choking sound before throwing his head back and laughing, curving his arms around A-Die’s waist and pulling his magnificent head down onto his shoulder. “Perhaps you should try the roast duck in the kitchen, too,” he says merrily, his fingers entwining themselves with A-Die’s like vines curling into a knot. “Xiao-Bai might like it. What do you think?”

“No, Father! Jingyi wants it, so Xiao-Bai can’t have it.”

A-Die leaves before Jingyi wakes up the next morning, as usual, but there is a cool dent on his side of the bed, and Xiao-Bai is singing his jiujiu’s favorite lullaby on the windowsill. He wonders for a moment (as he always does) if A-Die was a dream, and if he was ever really here at all–but then Father comes back in with the laundry, and his lips are stained with sparkling stardust like frost on an early peach.

“There’s a new gift coming for you,” he says, helping Jingyi clean his face and hands before carrying him to the table. “Even nicer than your Xiao-Bai. Can you guess what it’s going to be?”

“A sword?”

“A-Yi is too young for a sword,” his father grins. “Guess again.”

“A dog?”

“Absolutely not, your Wei-shushu would drop dead on the spot and then Wangji would haunt me to the ends of the earth.”

“…Two dogs?”

“Jingyi!”

But on the next full moon, A-Die doesn’t bring him more snow-birds, or rattle-drums with stars for beads, or even a new puppy. He arrives on an icy winter night with a little bundle of blankets in his arms: a bundle with toes and two small hands and a pair of big round eyes, and Father gives the bundle a name of her own to go with his, and with Jingyi’s.

“We can’t call a baby Xiao-Bai, darling,” he says, when Jingyi pouts at his new sister and cuddles up against his A-Die. “We’ll call her Ying’er, for now, and when she’s bigger, we’ll call her Jueying.”

Lan Jueying, Jingyi thinks. It sounds a little sweet, like Lan Jingyi, and a little happy, and a little mischievous, too.

“….Do I have to share her with xiao-shushu? I won't! Papa can't make me!”

A-Die tries not to laugh, at that. “A-Yi!”

#nielan #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #my fic

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