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mid-weast · 3 years

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Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

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kisilinramblings · 3 years

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Have the staff made any comments about Gabriel's abuse in the show?

I dunno about Sébastien, Mélanie, Fred and Mathieu as I don't follow them on social medias, but I don't recall Thomas or Winny answering much questions about Gabriel's psych and how he treats Adrien... I even wonder if they do actually get some to begin with. But it appears to be low compared to questions about the LS, Chloé or any lore related question or clarification about the episodes.

But I do remember one moment with the writers during a QA panel at the Japan Expo answering one when someone asked them about Chat Blanc.

(Japan Expo 2020 - 9:53)

Quick translation :

Juleka Cosplayer : Hi! I would like to know why, in the Chat Blanc episode, HM is so violent with Adrien even though he knows he is his son and he wants to take care of him? Well, I didn't quite understand that violence when he is hitting him?

Sébastien (writing director) : Yes, why?

Fred : Very good question.

Sébastien : Did he hit him as hard in the text than on the screen, I dunno.

Thomas : First, he doesn't physically hit Adrien, but Chat Noir who is (physically) invulnerable.

Juleka Cosplayer : But he knows who he is!

Thomas : Yes, and he knows he is invulnerable too. And the goal behind it wasn't to physically hurt him but to render him psychologically unstable so he gets akumatized. It is really more a psychological question than anything else.

Sébastien : To add to this, if he was hugging him and saying nice things to him, it would have been more complicated to akumatize him, you see? And in order to reach his goal, this bad guy does this. He is a villain. It's complicated, but what you are saying is very interesting because it is a debate. Who is Gabriel? What is his relationship with his son? It's a debate which has also happened in the writers room between the four of us (Thomas, Fred, Mélanie and him). We each have different point of views on the father and the son, on their relationship, on the whys and wherefores of this relationship as well of their individual objectives...

I am very careful how I am formulating my sentences to not say anything I shouldn't be saying -- It's very complicated for us to talk about something we have written 2 and a half years ago. Especially that we have written one and half season than what has been broadcasted. And also because animation -- for those who don't know or are baffled by what I am saying -- is a very long thing to produce. For those who are watching the show, it's made in 3D, there is a certain amount of quality and this quality, these requirements we put into the show makes it long to produce. But for the enjoyement of you all, big and small, when you are watching it.

Fred : I'm bouncing a little bit on the subject before we pass to the next question. I find it very interesting during all the conversations so far to see there is a constant with people watching Miraculous. The people who are here with us always look for the good inside each character. Even the bad guys. Even Chloé -- we got an example earlier -- and I find it awesome that you are reflecting that back at us about the show that there is always good inside people, that we must always look for some good inside someone. So thank you for reflecting that back at us.

Sébastien : Kudos to you! It's true that in this negative society which surrounds us, it's beautiful to have a positive show and to have you... That's what I was talking about, the positive you are sending us is very nice.

---

Please keep in mind I was translating quickly what they were saying, so if a word doesn't make too much sense I apologize (Seb is very tricky to follow sometimes because he can restart his idea as he talks). But that should give you some understanding of how they see things. I find it good all five of them have their point of view in the matter and they did have these discussions about all those points Sébastien has enumerated

Also I have re-listened the whole QA and they do pay attention to what they tell. They have given the example of Chloé's bullying. They make sure kids understand what Chloé says or does when she is mean is not something they should emulate against anyone. That they recognize it is bullying and that it is bad.

And during the last question about what is the story they want to tell with Miraculous (starting at 40:32), Sébastien mentionned that the message has never ever been this clear to each of them ever since they have started to write S4. They had a good general idea during S2 when the writers room got created and they come work together, but it got refined two seasons later and now it is crystal clear for them, making Seasons 4 and 5 episodes very clear about what they want to tell us about.

#miraculous ladybug

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

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Soup & Cuddles

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff Summary: Bucky had a particularly rough mission but you’re there to welcome him home with a nice warm meal and comforting arms. A/N: ooof weird ending I’m sorry I sometimes don’t know how to end stuff lmao please forgive me but besides that i think this is cute, simple, and sweet so please enjoy <3

Masterlist

You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what came with welcoming him home from a mission.

For starters, whatever time his estimated arrival was was always off by at least a couple of hours (he like to put up an optimistic front for you, you had realized quickly) so you were always prepared for very late nights. Secondly, he would usually be dead tired but insist on hearing about what you did while he was gone. Thirdly, he could be touchy, unable to even lift a finger from you once he got in the door. And finally, he’d simply be hungry.

This night started like any other waiting for Bucky to come home from a mission. Early that morning he alerted you he would be home around midnight which basically translated to early morning hours. You started cooking some food for him around midnight as you waited.

You settled on vegetable soup as it not only warmed the soul but also could be reheated easily. What could you say? You favored practical recipes.

You prepped and seasoned the vegetables nicely, leaving them to wait patiently in the pot. You added in the vegetable stock along with water and a dash of more seasoning just to give it that little extra something. As it began bubbling away, you placed a lid on it, letting the broth reduce and flavors combine.

Once the soup was completed, you left it sitting on the back burner, simmering to keep warm for when Bucky arrived home. You sat on your kitchen island counter, flipping through a magazine when the door finally opened. You smiled, your head quickly turning to greet your man but everything around you seemed to stop when you noticed the state he was in.

Physically, he was just fine. There was no blood you could see, only just the outlines of bruises, but everything else about him… From his stance to his eyes… He didn’t seem okay.

It wasn’t new for Bucky to sometimes came back in unpleasant moods. That, you felt, was totally expected with such a demanding job but something about this time was different. He looked defeated, almost like everything was kicked out of him all over again.

Your heart dropped but you tried not to show it, keeping up some cheeriness in your voice. "Hi, honey," you said, sending him a small smile.

"Hi, doll," His words were weak.

Redirecting your attention to the stove, you hopped down and grabbed a bowl. Motioning towards the pot, you said, "I made you some vegetable soup if you’re hungry."

Bucky shook his head, "Maybe in the morning."

Soup? In the morning? Was… Was he even listening to you?

Stunned, you stood there, just holding the bowl and spoon meant for him. You watched him place some stuff on the counter and then head into the living room, totally bypassing you without a second glance.

Despite turning down the food, you still filled a bowl for him, adding some toast with butter to the side for dipping. You grabbed a couple of water bottles from the fridge and headed into the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the couch, mindlessly watching late-night TV shows. He wasn’t reacting to anything on the television, just staring off into space. He barely even register you had entered the room until you placed the soup and water directly in front of him on the coffee table.

"Doll, really," he insisted, "I don’t want anything."

You shrugged, taking a seat next to him on the couch, and said, "Well, it’s there in case you change your mind."

Silence fell over the room as Bucky turned to you, his heavy eyes met yours. He looked tired in the worst way. You bit your lip, debating if you should press him to talk about it. He’d always been hesitant to talk about, well, anything. You tried your best to respect that but this was getting to you.

Cautiously, you placed your hand over Bucky’s, intertwining your fingers. It was a small thing but he accepted it.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" You asked, your voice just hovering above a whisper. Bucky took his eyes off you, opting to look down at your connected hands. You took the opportunity to lightly run your fingers through his hair. He slightly leaned into the touch, giving you a bit of hope.

"First off, we lost some people," he simply replied, his grip on your hand suddenly getting stronger.

"What- On the team?" You asked frantically. Bucky quickly shook his head.

"No," he said. You let out a sigh of relief. "But then there were some issues with the civilians."

He acted like that was that but something in your gut could feel there was more to it. He was being so vague it was weirding you out. Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t seem concerned about his words as he disconnected your hands and finally reached for the soup bowl. He drank some broth, turning back to the television.

"Bucky," you said slowly, "is that it?"

He looked down at the soup, this time eating a spoonful of vegetables. Once he had finished his bite, there was a pause. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it as if contemplating on answering. You watched him intensely, pulling your hands to your lap, waiting.

"Kids," he mumbled as his gaze focused on his dinner, stirring the spoon idly. "We saw some kids and I… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them. I don’t know if they’re okay or not."

Your jaw dropped slightly. You brought your hand gently to his bicep. He tensed under your touch. "Oh, honey…"

You didn’t know what to say. What- What could you say? Everything on missions could be rough but the image of a child caught in problems they didn’t cause? And possibly paying for it? You couldn’t even imagine the weight of it all.

Bucky sighed, leaning forward, forcing your touch to drop, as he placed his food back on the coffee table. He took a couple of bites of the bread before leaning back, still not looking at you.

"You know, missions can be bad on their own," he mumbled. "But being reminded children are affected…"

He said so little but so much all at once. All you could do was nod, trying to ease his mind. You couldn’t pretend to even know how he was feeling. You certainly had never been in his position before. You just had to be there listen when he was ready to speak and welcome him into your arms to let him know you’re there.

When Bucky felt you wrap your arms around him, he pulled back from his empty staring to look down at you. Normally, when emotions were this strong he’d opt to be alone. And, in fact, he almost did just that earlier. His original plan was to walk right into the bedroom once he got home and bury it all.

But he knew that wouldn’t be a possibility. You were too good. You were there all sweet and radiant, waiting for him with a hot meal. He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t turn you away no matter how much he tried. Stuff got a lot better faster when he had someone willing to comfort him.

Effortlessly, he picked you up and placed you on his lap. His arms were tight around your waist. You rested your head in the crook of his neck while his forehead met your shoulder.

You two stayed like that for a bit, just holding one another, trying to offer support any way you could. You still were at a loss for words but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. He probably wasn’t looking for a response anyway. He knew you each led two completely different lives and, sure, there was some beauty in that. There was something about coming back to one another after a full day of work and errands, ready to share stories from your day. But there were always bad sides to it, too. While you didn’t exactly have the horror stories Bucky could have, you knew he’d always listen to your problems, as you were present to listen to his.

After a moment, you felt you couldn’t keep the silence going. Gently pushing away, Bucky lifted his head from your shoulder and you faced one another again.

"I’m sorry," you said, running your thumb over his damp cheek, collecting tears.

"I love you, doll," Bucky mumbled, leaning forward to place a quick peck on your lips. "Thank you."

"I- I didn’t really do-,"

He shook his head, "You do so much for me. You listen to me, you comfort me, you make me the greatest bowls of soup ever… You do too much. Thank you."

You chuckled, your heart melting at his words. With the best smile you could muster under the circumstance, you placed a proper kiss on Bucky’s lips which he happily returned. His grip got tighter, trying to pull your bodies together. You pressed your hands against his chest, putting distance between you two. There were a lot of emotions running through you two.

"You should get some sleep," you said and tried getting off his lap. His arms wouldn’t budge. You sighed, "Bucky, honey, come on."

Shaking his head, he said, "Let’s watch a movie or something, okay? I… I don’t want to sleep yet."

You nodded, "Alright, we can do that but I would like some soup first. And maybe then cuddles."

Bucky chuckled, removing his arms from your waist. You stood and raced to the kitchen, grabbing your own bowl of soup and bread.

"Soup and cuddles?" He asked, watching you from the living room. Maybe he could spend all night like this. Watching you was enough to keep him happy.

"Soup and cuddles," you confirmed, making your way back into the living room. You placed your food on the coffee table and sat on the couch where Bucky had his arm extended, waiting for your body to curl up into his.

His hold on you was fairly strong as if needing a reminder of your presence but you didn’t say anything. It felt good to be wrapped in your man’s arms. And felt even better to be his safe spot. Your heart fluttered at the realization, making you slide closer.

Bucky certainly didn’t object.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel one shot #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #mcu fic #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #writing*#bucky barnes

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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How do you believe Carlisle feels about Esme? How would their break up go? Would he ever cheat on her? I mean like emotionally?

He loves her.

I don’t doubt that his feelings for Esme are genuine, that he respects and cherishes her and wishes to spend his life with her. Esme, too, worships the man.

My complete lack of faith in this ship comes from the fact that they’re together for the wrong reasons and not compatible.

The Bad Beginning

Carlisle had spent centuries searching for likeminded, he never did. In the end he succumbs and starts creating his own, first Edward and then Esme, and to his joy they both agree to do the diet.

Esme’s transformation was entirely an impulse on his end. He saw this delightful, vivacious young woman he’d known ten years ago lie broken and dying in the morgue, a Jane Doe declared dead, she was all too easy to steal. She was too far gone for him to have time to think it over, and so he went «alright let’s do this. I imagine it seemed rather like God had sent her to that morgue specifically. We learn from Midnight Sun that romance wasn’t on his mind at all (even if it was, that wouldn’t make their marriage more functional) and he expected nothing of her. He bit her because he didn’t want Esme Platt to die.

Esme, of course, wakes up into this new life under surreal, heavenly circumstances. Her child is still dead - but here is the mythic, pedestaled Dr. Cullen, now her savior and more wonderful than ever. To back myself up with the books:

Esme had already been in love with Carlisle—much to his shock—but not through any mystical, magical means. She’d met Carlisle as a girl and, drawn to his gentleness, wit, and otherworldly beauty, formed an attachment that had haunted her for the rest of her human years. Life had not been kind to Esme, and so it was not surprising that this golden memory of a good man had never been supplanted in her heart. After the burning torment of transformation, when she’d awakened to the face of her long-cherished dream, her affections were entirely his. (Midnight Sun, chapter Bloodtype)

Carlisle, on his end, hadn’t had the idea at all until Edward said “Dude, she’s into you, go for it.”

I’d been on hand to caution Carlisle about her unforeseen reaction. He’d expected that she would be shocked by her transformation, traumatized by the pain, horrified by what she’d become, much as I had been. He’d expected to have to explain and apologize, to soothe and to atone. He knew there was a good chance that she would have preferred death, that she would despise him for the choice made without her knowledge or consent. So the fact that she had been immediately prepared to join this life—not really the life, but to join him—was not something he was ready for.

He’d never seen himself as a possible object of romantic love before that moment. It seemed contrary to what he was—a vampire, a monster. The knowledge I gave him changed the way he looked at Esme, the way he looked at himself.

More than that, it was very a powerful thing, choosing to save someone. It was not a decision any sane individual made lightly. (sic)

I’m not entirely void of authorial intent - I get that this was supposed to be romcom where the cute nerdy guy has no idea the girl is interested.

But, what I see is that after centuries of being alone, never finding anybody who shared his values, Carlisle finally has these two people who share his ideals, the only two in the world. He’s had countless friends, but it never worked out because of that damn diet. But, now he has these two people, and one of them is a beautiful, kind, wonderful woman who’s in love with him.

I imagine falling for Esme was easy. It was just so perfect, simply by being Carlisle Cullen he could make her happier than any other man, and given their shared diet, he wanted her by his side always, just as he did Edward. And this was it for him, really, to Carlisle Cullen Esme might as well be the only woman in the world because she’s the only one who'll share his lifestyle. He also felt responsible for her.

I don’t at all doubt their sincerity or affection for one another.

However, they did not fall for each other for each other’s sakes. Esme fell for the ideal since childhood, and Carlisle fell because she was perfect. Stick them in an AU and it won’t happen.

The Slippery Slope

Where they run into trouble is firstly that Esme doesn’t share these ideals, nor value human life for its own sake. Now, I’m not asking her to be a saint - but over the course of these books we had some lapses that I find pretty damning.

She wanted Edward back in Forks, when this would almost certainly mean the death of Bella Swan, simply because to Esme having Edward nearby > a person’s life. This wasn’t the case for Carlisle, he made it extremely clear he wanted Edward to leave.

During the “Kill Bella?” vote, she was in favor of whatever meant Edward would stay.

Carlisle, having failed to get anywhere with talking sense into Edward, sends him home to his mother for an intervention. What happens next is that Esme gives Edward her blessing to eat the delicious girl if he wants to. Now, we can’t know specifically the talk Carlisle and Esme had before this, but I can’t imagine it was this. Also, damn, what a miscommunication.

Esme simply doesn’t have a problem with the deaths of individual humans, and she will put her loved ones above all other things, even if it’s a minor inconvenience. Keeping Bella alive only becomes her priority after Edward makes it clear he wants this.

Now, Carlisle’s standards have been worn down over the centuries, he just wants his family to try not to eat people on purpose, that’s how low the bar is. Tragically for his marriage, Esme is stumbling over said bar.

The further trouble they run into is that I don’t think they’re very compatible people.

Esme means well, but she’s peculiar, to put it extremely nicely. Her ambition in life is to LARP the human life, right down to being a master chef of something her species can’t eat, which could be sweet if she did other things. She doesn’t, the closest she gets is designing homes for her family. There’s being single-minded, and then there’s Esme, who appears to have honed herself into someone who exists only to be the housewife.

This leads to bizarre behavior - for instance in Midnight Sun when Edward has realized he’s in love, he sits around laughing to himself like a lunatic while playing the piano. Something happens with Rosalie, who runs out of the house in humiliation. Esme, responding to all this, gives her infamous “the best and brightest of us all” pep talk.

It’s just such a weird scene, even accounting for the inhumanity of Twilight vampires this is weird.

Mostly, thought, it is Esme’s interests and desires in life that I find so at odds with Carlisle’s. She wants to be an improved human, living the shinier, better, life without actually embracing the inhumanity of vampirism, while Carlisle is doing the human thing because he wants to be a doctor and save lives. Before that, he was travelling the world, living with normal vampires, using his eternity to study and pursue meaning in life. Now, they end up in the same place, with similar goals - wanting to blend in with humans - but the motivation is the polar opposite.

Which in turn means that as the world turns and their lives inevitably change, the way they live will have to change. This will spell trouble.

There’s also me having a strong suspicion these two don’t have much of a physical relationship, if any. Meyer specifically referred to their relationship as spiritual, and that fits the vibe we get from them in the books. Quite notably, Rosalie and Emmett were impossible to be around when they were newlyweds, while Carlisle and Esme weren’t a problem at all.

Not to mention what Esme longed for all those years was very much an ideal of a man, which to me doesn’t immediately point to a very physical attraction.

The Penultimate Peril

Would he cheat on her, you ask. Answer is yes, they’re both cheating emotionally with Edward. No.

He’s with her because he wants to be, and feels responsible for her. More, developing the kinds of feelings necessary for an emotional affair isn’t really on the table for him, since everyone else in the world is either a. one of his kids or the Denali, b. an unrepentant man-eating demon. So, unless Tanya’s feeling frisky, Carlisle doesn’t have anybody to cheat with.

(I’m here defining an emotional affair, which as I understand it is a bit hard to define, as a romantic, but non-physical entanglement. The cheating party has to know their partner wouldn’t be cool with it for it to count in my eyes.)

As for physically cheating on her, nope. God no, not ever. Unless something really convoluted like the plot of Blue Moon unfolded, but that’s really more a case of Esme pimping out her husband to her daughter-in-law, so everyone’s to blame here.

The end

I think the breakup can happen in any number of ways, but I think either way it will be sudden.

These two aren’t going to go “you know, I think we’ve grown apart” because Esme would never acknowledge that nevermind walk up to Carlisle and say it, and if Carlisle realized things aren’t working he’d still want to stick it out for her sake.

I think it’ll be sudden, it’ll happen as the immovable object that is them is hit by an unstoppable force. One will go someplace the other can’t follow. Maybe when the Cullen coven splits down the middle, and they’re on each their own side of the chasm, or maybe some other cause entirely.

It’ll devastate them both, but given the people these two are, I think it’s inevitable.

#carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle/esme #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #hope you all think the header theme was as funny as i did #a series of unfortunate events aka-#Anonymous #ask

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Fic: Love Languages

Headcanon suggested by a lovely anon, which spawned into a fic. Read on Ao3 or under the cut.

Words of affirmation

Receiving compliments or words of encouragement are not uncommon for Namaari. She has gone through life aiming to be the best at everything she does – the best leader, the best warrior, the best Princess – and along with her success come compliments on her fighting techniques, her decision-making skills, and even her ability to look formidable in her formal attire.

As royalty, people lavish her with praises when they see an opportunity to get into her good graces, despite the obvious lack of sincerity behind their words, and it tires her to deal with fawning citizens. She loves her people, but she’d rather they’d love her back truly; false words mean nothing.

Chief Virana does not give out compliments easily, and is often faster to critique than to encourage. Namaari pretends her mother’s approval is nothing more than something important to receive from her Chief, but in reality, she craves hearing soft words such as ‘well done, Morning Mist’, whenever she is lucky enough to have them bestowed upon her.

As she grows up, she decides that sweet words are nice to have, but ultimately unnecessary – nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement is needed, before one can place it aside and move on to more important things. And then Raya comes back into her life.

Raya, who can flirt endlessly with elaborate innuendos until Namaari rolls her eyes at her ridiculousness. Raya, who is quite happy to press herself closer than absolutely necessary in their sparring sessions, just to set out some unspoken physical challenge.

And yet, when it comes to providing a genuine compliment, Raya practically freezes.

‘I like…like your hair,’ she mumbles one day to Namaari, glancing off to the side in order to avoid making eye contact. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, even though earlier in the day she had made a lewd comment about a sword which didn’t even have her blinking.

For some reason, Raya’s lack of suaveness when it comes to providing true compliments delights Namaari, and she hoards each instance close to her heart, happy in the knowledge that every word spoken was genuine in its meaning.

In return, she starts to gift Raya with compliments of her own.

For Raya is not used to receiving compliments, at least not in a long time. Her Ba used to provide encouragement and compliments often, but that was many years ago, and now he hesitates to put them into words sometimes, unsure of how this new dynamic works when he’s looking at a grown-up daughter rather than a small child.

Namaari has no difficulty in sharing them though.

‘You look very beautiful today,’ she tells Raya softly one evening, when they are having dinner. Raya stammers out some incomprehensible response, and spends the rest of the meal staring down at her bowl, occasionally darting her eyes over to Namaari.

‘I love that hairstyle on you,’ Namaari says to her a few days later, watching as Raya braids her hair back with expert precision.

‘Umm…thanks?’ Raya squeaks.

‘Your techniques were excellent today,’ Namaari informs her after a sparring session. This time, Raya just nods, and clears her throat before trying to awkwardly change the subject. Namaari can still see the smile on her lips though.

Eventually, Raya becomes better at both giving and receiving words of affirmation. Namaari learns how true compliments can be more meaningful than expected.

It isn’t the most important aspect of their relationship, but they like to encourage each other all the same.

Acts of service

Raya sees how much of a burden Namaari perpetually takes onto her shoulders, in her duties for Fang. She is so focused on helping her people rebuild and expand, or going away on diplomatic missions to help form better relations with the other lands, that she forgets to take a moment to breath sometimes.

Raya wants to take some of her stress away, by helping her carry out some of her duties or at least be involved in organizing certain aspects of the expansion projects, but she discovers quickly that Namaari is somewhat of a perfectionist. It is almost more stressful for her to find herself out of the loop or uninformed about decisions, than it would be to allow her undertake the duties in the first place, and so Raya finds it more helpful to just back off from the work unless asked to provide support.

It’s also a way for Namaari to feel as if she is atoning for her past actions. Raya wishes she wouldn’t feel the need to do so, but it is something they’ve argued about before, and they always end up stuck in a perpetual loop.

One of the ways Raya can help however, is with her cooking.

Namaari is an awful cook (something Raya unfortunately discovers herself with one ill-fated meal), but she is fascinated by watching Raya conjure something up in the kitchen.

Gone are the days of living off jackfruit jerky; with so many fresh and interesting ingredients at her disposal, and with the occasional reminders from Ba when she is unsure about something, Raya makes a whole array of different foods over the months.

It’s one of the best ways of getting Namaari to relax, Raya finds. Every mealtime when Raya is behind the pot, Namaari will abandon whatever work she is doing, and will sit and watch Raya finish making the dishes. They’ll always eat it together, and for a short while, Raya can feel the stress lift free from Namaari as she laughs over Raya’s words and enjoys good food.

Gifts

The first gift Namaari ever gave Raya has almost become a symbol for their entire complicated history. It represents new friendship, betrayal, and after so many years…forgiveness and a fresh start.

Namaari gives it back to her not long after the return of Kumandra, before she can second-guess herself.

‘It was a gift,’ she says, half-expecting it to be thrown back in her face. But Raya runs her finger gently over the surface of the dragon pendant, and then sends her a small smile. The next day, Namaari sees it hanging around her neck once more.

Once they start dating properly, Namaari can’t get it out of her mind how much the gift seemed to mean to Raya, both times.

‘She still doesn’t have that many personal belongings,’ Namaari informs Sisu, as an explanation as to why she was forcing the dragon to accompany her around endless market stalls in Talon, looking for the perfect gift for Raya. ‘I figure it’s because she was on the move so much in life, she couldn’t carry a lot.’

Sisu makes an ‘mmm’ sound, clearly not buying her reasoning completely, but allows the topic to drop when she’s distracted by shiny objects at the next stall.

Namaari finds a small knife that can be strapped to a wrist and slipped up the sleeve. She knows how much Raya prefers to be carrying at least one weapon with her at all times, and this would be perfect for diplomatic meetings – subtle, and easy to hide. And indeed, Raya wears it continuously after receiving it as a gift.

On another visit to another market, this time in Spine, Namaari spies a comb with a beautifully carved handle.

‘For your hair,’ she says in an attempt to be casual, thrusting it awkwardly in Raya’s direction that evening. Raya loves it, and it is indeed used every night before bed to comb out her braids.

Every time Namaari has to travel on diplomatic missions, she now ensures that she brings back something small for Raya.

‘I love the gifts,’ Raya tells her one day. ‘But I love even more how it shows you’re thinking of me when you’re away.’

One evening, as they are getting ready for bed, a small golden ring drops out of Namaari’s pocket by mistake.

‘Is…is that my old hair band?’ Raya asks, peering over the side of the bed as Namaari scoops it up in a hurry. ‘I thought I’d lost that years ago.’

‘I found it,’ Namaari says defensively, clutching it tight in her fist. ‘I guess…I never asked you if you wanted it back?’

Raya shakes her head with a smile, but the following evening, she steps up behind Namaari, sliding her hand into her pocket. Namaari watches as she pulls out the hair band and threads it onto a small gold chain.

From then on, they both wear a gift from the other around their necks.

Physical touch

Sometimes, everything can become overwhelming, the past traumas so great that it seems suffocating. And in that darkness, sometimes the gentle touch of another is the only thing keeping the world grounded.

Raya goes six long years without receiving a hug. At the time, she doesn’t see it as a big deal – she’s grown up fast, and learnt that the world isn’t the welcoming place her father once hoped it could be. Even moreso, her Ba was the last one to hug her, and she doesn’t mind keeping it that way.

Now though, she finds comfort in the small touches. It’s in the featherlight way Namaari’s nose brushes against her neck as they curl up together in bed, waiting for the morning sun to rise. It’s in the gentle trail of Namaari’s fingers across her back, as they stand talking to others, and Namaari absentmindedly reaches out for her. It’s in the soft kiss against her temple, when Namaari has to go back to work after lunch.

Occasionally, she will need to be encompassed by that comfort, and in this moment, she will go and find Namaari, stepping closer until her forehead rests on her shoulder. No matter what she was previously doing, Namaari will pause everything, wrapping her arms tightly around Raya, and they stand there until Raya can feel as if she can breathe again.

Namaari has a habit of falling too far into her own mind sometimes. She is an outwardly composed and pragmatic individual, but internally, all sorts of doubts and guilt still plague her, and there are days where she can’t shake off the feeling that she isn’t doing enough in her life to atone for her past, or that she is a fraud who has no right in stepping up and trying to lead her people when her previous actions cost them so much.

It’s difficult for her to ask for help in these moments. Raya learns instead to notice the signs of a bad day, or whenever Namaari gets trapped into a downwards spiral, and she will take Namaari by the hands and sit them somewhere quiet.

There they can actually talk, and sometimes Namaari feels comfortable enough to share her fears. But the most important thing, Raya finds, is to slide an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight and peppering her cheek and bare shoulder with small kisses.

Raya refuses to let her go until she sees at least one small smile.

Quality time

In the early days of the relationship, there is still so much separation between the two of them. Raya is in Heart, helping her Ba welcome back everyone to their lands, fixing up the buildings, ensuring the harvest gets started…There are so many jobs to do, and Raya knows Namaari is undergoing the same issues back in Fang, coupled with an expansion of their kingdom.

On top of all of this, there are endless council meetings and diplomatic missions, so if it isn’t Namaari being busy with politics, it is Raya, much to her annoyance.

Whenever they do get to spend time together, they ensure no minute is wasted. They have meals together, and spar together, and find all sorts of random ways to entertain themselves. Namaari loves to go out in the evenings and watch the night sky, attempting to teach the constellations to Raya; but Raya decides that these constellations are ridiculous, and so they create their own. Raya meanwhile loves to go for hikes in the woods, dragging Namaari along to discover new plants and wildlife, and occasionally climbing the trees.

They both love to sit in bed next to each other, quietly reading their books, or discussing their day. Sometimes, Raya will lie sideways on the bed, her stomach across Namaari’s legs and her arms hanging over the edge, so she can carve pieces of wood into intricate shapes, with Namaari reads out loud for the both of them.

Even after several years, and living together permanently, Raya finds herself reflecting on the fact that she never gets bored as long as she’s with Namaari.

They are currently lying in a field somewhere in the depths of Heart land, enjoying the sun shining onto their faces and the grass tickling their skin. She lazily wiggles her hand until it makes contact with Namaari.

‘Dep la?’ Raya whispers, and Namaari grunts in response. ‘You don’t get bored with me, right?’

Namaari merely shuffles closer without even opening an eye, resting her cheek against Raya’s shoulder.

‘Don’t be stupid,’ she mumbles, and she’s curled up so close that Raya can feel the vibrations of her voice on her skin.

‘Didn’t think so,’ Raya says in satisfaction. They continue to enjoy the peace.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #rayaari fic #rayamaari #this was supposed to be a headcanon #but it all was just like 'hello must get out of the brain'#some fluff to keep you guys happy #while i work on the concept au angst

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maschotch · 2 years

Note

also 🌊 for hotch :)

ocean waves: what makes you feel the most nostalgic? what memory will you always hold onto?

i think hotch is an extremely nostalgic person. he won’t let go of the past—like it’s his duty to remember what he survived. he tries to integrate things that remind him of his childhood into his daily life, like making the same breakfast for jack that his mom made for him. there are little things like that that are scattered throughout all our lives, but i think hotch is very intentional about it, if only because he can never forget why something holds meaning to him. a certain scent of laundry detergent, the same cleaning supplies, drinking the alcohol his father would reek of, listening to the albums haley would pull songs from to make playlists for him when they were young,

part of it is because he can’t let himself forget. and part of it i feel like is because he doesn’t have anything from his past but memories. there aren’t many—if any—physical objects from his childhood that he was able to keep. which is also why he holds onto things that hold meaning to him for so long, like the pirate hat from the play he met haley through. maybe he has an item or two: his mother’s family necklace or his father’s broken watch. small keepsakes he’s managed to hold onto over the years. he’ll pull them out and run his hands over them feeling the bumps and ridges of the intricate metals until they’re warm under his touch.

he doesn’t have anything really from his childhood, so he clings to every object of significance from his life now. he’s never thrown away a single scrap of jack’s artwork. he still has the pens on his desk a professor from law school gifted him, one of the first people to truly help him feel supported; he keeps the small golden cross on a chain necklace rossi gave him a few years into working at the bau even though he’s not religious, the knowledge that he's still in the sentimental senior agent's prayers more than enough to get the meaning across; the gold-laced bird pin gideon passed down to him is displayed on his dresser at home as a reminder to look for the beauty life has to offer; he still uses the cufflinks a sheepish morgan gifted him for his birthday the first year he joined the team, needing to hide his smile when the younger agent stops and stares when he notices him wearing them; every book reid’s given him has a special place on a shelf and he thumbs through the well worn pages every once and a while, letting himself get lost in the words the young genius entrusted to him; most of the colorful nick-knacks and toys garcia gives him ends up with jack but he has a few special ones tucked away in his office desk drawer that he can pull out whenever he feels overwhelmed by the darkness; he transfers the watch-band jj gave him to one of the watch faces he has in rotation; the cologne elle got him smells atrocious but he keeps the pretty bottle on his office bookshelf anyway; the shoes emily bought him are too nice for field work but he wears them to formal events or tedious meetings, stifling his grin when imagining whatever snide remarks she would have for the dull executives in the room.

he holds on tightly to the reminders he has of his loved ones, even if it’s painful. he knows how precious those memories are. at first it was something that served as a sort of punishment, a constant reminder of the pain he’s suffered. but as he’s added to the collection, it’s become symbols of love and hope. family hurts, but they also give him strength, comfort, laughter. the meaning of his life isn't something stuck in the past--it's constantly evolving and something he cultivates along the way as he touches people's lives.

send asks <3

#this got longer than i intended lol and i dont think i even answered the question aksjdhglk #asks #aaron hotchner #ANWAY. bau gifts pls.

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lovestrucked-again · 4 years

Text

Something You Should Know

Summary: Your boyfriend asks you to help teach one of his colleague’s a lesson and you agree reluctantly. He forget’s to mention one thing though, his colleague’s pretty hot.

Genre: smuT Pairing: boyfriend!Jaehyun x female Y/N x Johnny x (ft Yuta) Word count: 4.8k

Warning: SMUT, cheating? if you read to the end it’s like pSyCH. handjob, oral sex (Jaehyun/Yuta/Y/N), teasing, ass sex? mindblank forgot the term, double penetration, sex, nipple teasing, humiliation, dirty talk.

a/n: Hi, how has your day been? :) _____

“What was that about?” You ask, your eyes still on the TV as Jaehyun falls back against the couch after a long call.

“Just Johnny,” He sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair.

“How’s he doing?”

“Not bad, he just wanted to come round sometime soon to catch up with us.”

“That sounds nice.” You hum, agreeing with the idea.

The TV show continues, the tiny forms of pixel racing across the screen to produce one of your favourite movies you’d chosen to re-watch. It’s a lot harder to concentrate with Jaehyun beside you. His fingers restlessly tapping against your leg as his eyes are on trained on you instead.

Finally, you cave in to his stare, “What?”

He grins, reaching for the remote to pause the scene before talking, “Babe I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Johnny’s been acting like a real jerk recently, thinking he can fuck anyone he wants including one of the managers at work.”

“So?”

“I was thinking,” he pauses, sitting cross legged on the couch and turning his body to face you, “Maybe it’d be fun to wind him up a little through the evening, like if you could openly flirt with him and leave him hanging then send him off.”

The idea runs through your mind. “What? Why me?”

“Because you’re hot.”

You can’t help but laugh, “To you maybe.”

"Are you kidding? Several of my mates say how lucky I am."

"Oh yeah, like who?" You question, suddenly very intrigued.

"I'm not telling you that," Jaehyun frowns in reply.

You laugh at his pouting form, his dimples furrowing further into his cheeks as he keeps his gaze level with yours. You relax a little into the couch, thinking about his suggestion. “Are you sure about it?”

“Yeah why not?” He crosses his arms, leaning back against the armrest, "It's only a bit of fun, I just want to put him in his place, you don't actually have to sleep with him."

Just for fun. Not actually doing anything physical.

“Yeah okay, I’ll help.”

*** When the night finally comes around, you struggle choosing out an outfit, but eventually decide on purposefully picking a rather shortish skirt with a low V line shirt, allowing your push up bra to show a nice cleavage.

While you’re choosing your accessories Jaehyun finishes up in the shower, your back towards him as he stares into your reflection through the bathroom mirror. "Fuck, you look gorgeous,” Jaehyun comments, leaning against the ensuite doorway, "I want to bend you over and take you now."

You clip on the pearl earring on your ear and turn around to face him. The visible bulge underneath his towel. "I can see that.” You laugh, giving him a side smirk as you stand up, pulling your skirt up a little.

You walk over to Jaehyun and pull his towel away so his standing naked. Your hand reaching to grab his cock and gliding your hand over it very slowly. Jaehyun lets out a low moan at the contact of your skin on his length. His voice getting louder as your hand works its way up and down his cock.

“Does that feel nice?” You purr.

“Ugh fuck Y/N,” he groans, “you look so fucking hot right now.”

“Isn’t that what how you want me for Johnny?” You tease

Seeing you in your short skirt, your low cut shirt and your breasts almost hanging out your bra, he second thinks the idea. Jaehyun trusted you to follow the plan but he was sure, certain, positive that there was no way Johnny would let you go tonight.

You drop onto your knees, still grasping tightly on his member, his cock now staring right in your face. You part your mouth open, and lightly lick the tip of his cock, tasting the familiar saltiness of his pre-cum.

Jaehyun remains still, completely lost in his ecstasy as he watches you suck on him, savouring every moment as you greedily slurp and suck his cock. His balls tighten as you play with them, your hand squeezing them gently as you continue to suck.

“Fuck that feels so good.”

The pressure builds inside his balls as your hand slips a little higher. His cum shooting straight into your mouth as you swallow it straight down. Jaehyun leans more against the wall to support himself as you suck on him, milking everything out and down your throat. You finally let him go as you feel his orgasm subside.

"Babe that was so good," he sighs, helping you up on your feet as you wipe away the droplets of cum sliding down your lip.

"That was a teaser, maybe if you’re a good boy tonight I’ll let you have some fun before bed.” You tell him, giving him a little wink as you go back to your dresser to fix your makeup.

"I can't fucking wait for that," Jaehyun groans staring at your backside.

“Go get dressed Jae.” You laugh, watching him daydream through the reflection.

***

You leave Jaehyun to get ready and make your way downstairs, preparing everything for their game night. The beer, spirits and snacks are all stocked up in your fridge just next to the dining room where they would be playing. At around 7:30, Jaehyun finally joins you, making sure everything’s set.

Doyoung’s the first to turn up, followed by Taeyong, Yuta and Taeil. You know all the guys so naturally, you give each of them a hug as they enter, each in turn letting them eye you up in surprise at your outfit; all of them giving you a wink, aware of the real purpose for tonight.

“How are you feeling?” Yuta asks, trailing behind as you lead him and the others to the setup game zone.

“Not too bad.”

The doorbell rings and you excuse yourself, letting Yuta join the others as you skip down the hall to answer it, ready to put the plan into action. Except what Jaehyun had failed to mention to you earlier, was what Johnny actually looked like. You had met his other colleagues, the group of them having worked together for many years. But Johnny, well, Johnny is something else.

You cling onto the door for support, feeling your knees weaken when you see him. Johnny was tall, well built, brown hair and had looks to die for. He smiles as you stare.

“You must be Y/N,”

"Uh yes," you stammer out.

"I'm Johnny," he says offering you his hand.

"Of course, come in," you reply shaking his hand, which feels a bit odd considering all the other's had got a peck on the cheek.

Johnny follows you down the hall and into the dining room. You take a quick detour and run into the kitchen to get him a beer. Jaehyun quickly appears by your side.

"Fuck, you could have told me he was so hot," you blurt out. Jaehyun gives a little smirk, amused at your flustered reaction to his colleague.

"Sorry, didn't think it mattered. Either way, he's a ladies’ man and he knows it, so we want you to put him in his place. Oh and he's already mentioned how lucky I am. Get to work and show him he can't have everything he wants.”

You take a deep breath, turning your nerves into a forced smile as you take on the role. As the night goes on, you can tell that Johnny behaves with an air of arrogance and you can hear him talking about his conquests at work and how he’s now planning his next move on one of the directors who was in her fifties.

"If I can get in her pants, I'll be right up the ladder," you hear him say.

You hide the laugh that's about to escape your lips, swallowing a gulp of the soft drink in your hand. Yep Jaehyun was right. This guy really does think a lot of himself, good looking or not. You continue to supply the boys with drinks and snacks, taking every opportunity to show a bit of yourself as you lean over the table, reaching unnecessarily far for no reason. At one point you turn to go and feel a smack on your backside. You let out a little yelp and turn around, unsurprisingly discovering its Johnny.

"Proper beauty you've got here Jaehyun, no wonder you look tired all the time," you hear him say, followed by a deep chuckle.

“I’m not an object asshole.” You mutter to yourself, storming away to cover your irritation from being seen.

You’re in the kitchen when you hear Johnny asking Jaehyun where the toilet is. He guides Johnny through the kitchen, passing you briefly to the downstairs bathroom which is rarely used. You have your back to Johnny as he comes in and you jump, feeling him creep up behind you.

"So, just how did Jaehyun manage to find a sexy woman like you?" he whispers into your ear as he gets a little too close, letting his chest brush against you.

Time to up my game. You carefully undo a button on your blouse to reveal more of your bra and cleavage and turn around; with some difficulty as Johnny’s right behind you. His height makes it incredibly hard to stare him straight in the eyes and while you attempt to keep his gaze on your face, it’s pretty obvious that he’s looking somewhere else.

"Do you think I could have done better then?" you ask with a pout.

"Jaehyun’s good, but you seem way out of his league," he replies

"Would I be good enough for you?" you ask fluttering your eyelids, feeling a bit of a fool as you do so.

Johnny manages to hide the shock from your question, believing your show, “You’d be more than good enough.”

He leans forward and you place your palms on his chest, pushing him back to keep the little distance between yourselves.

"Forget it, there's only one man that's going to have this," you tell him, following his gaze to your chest, "and it certainly isn't you."

Johnny takes a step back, throwing his hands in the air sarcastically pretending to be offended. "What's all this about you little prick tease? You've been giving me the come on all night" he chuckles, bringing a hand through your hair.

You swat away his hand before buttoning back up on your blouse.

"You really think my boyfriend was going to invite you into his house and have you fuck his girlfriend?" you snarl at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry, but I've not done anything, you were the one flirting with me," he genuinely did look sorry and you feel a pang of guilt.

"Look, the guys are fed up of you bragging about your conquests and treating women like dirt, they just wanted to teach you a lesson that was all."

"It'll take more than that," he says, turning back to his arrogant self, "well if you do fancy a bit of a change sometime let me know." Then he was off to the toilet before going back to the game of poker.

You were furious at his attitude, your anger directed as much to Jaehyun as to Johnny, for getting yourself into this in the first place. Johnny was a good looking guy, but yes, definitely full of himself. Was it all just an act though, he had seemed hurt when you had a go at him. You decide you had enough of the little game and it was time for you to retire upstairs and return to the comfort of your bed. Jaehyun appears just as you’re about to leave the kitchen.

"Everything all right baby?" he asks.

"No, it is not all right, I'm going to bed. You can continue your game and get your own drinks." You tell him, arms folded, throwing the hand towel on the kitchen bench as you walk off.

Jaehyun looks puzzled, but he doesn't question it.

An hour or so later, Jaehyun appears in your shared bedroom. You’re already changed into a nightie, but left your little thong on; too lazy to switch it. You weren’t happy with Jaehyun for making you wind Johnny up, but at the same time it had got you aroused, so if he apologised it wouldn't all be wasted. However, when you see him stumble through the door, you realise even if he did apologise he was in no fit state for anything else. Clearly they had moved on to the whisky.

"Good game." you say flatly.

"Yeah, I think so." He slurs, “Look I'm sorry about earlier, you should have said it would make you uncomfortable." Jaehyun flops down onto the bed, bouncing the mattress and your bpdy, and you know for a fact, he would be staying there till morning.

He mumbles out a barely audible sentence, his face pressed into the pillow, "A few of the guys are staying over. Taeyong’s in the spare room and Johnny is downstairs, I think he's watching the football or something."

A minute later and Jaehyun’s knocked out, completely cold. You switch off the bedroom lights, pulling the bedsheets up to cover the two of you; tucking yourself in. But whatever Johnny’s watching, it begins to bother you, the TV unnecessarily very loud.

“What a pain.” You mutter, throwing on a dressing gown over your figure to check downstairs. You grab your phone on the bedside table, flicking the torch light on as you make your way out the room. As the screen light becomes brighter you notice it isnt football that's playing, but rather a late night TV chat channel with a couple of girls with rather large breasts on the show, talking about nothing in particular. You walk over to the TV not even bothering to give Johnny a glance before turning it off. When you turn around to face the sofa, your jaw almost drops; Johnny lays there fast asleep, pants half way down his legs and the most enormous semi erect cock in his hand. What the fuck?

Not only had he comes to his friend’s place and try something with his girl but the fact that he was now crashed out on your sofa watching porn on the TV and in the middle of a semi wank. Suddenly, a realisation hit you; now was your chance. You unlock your phone, clicking into the camera app to take a couple photos of Johnny lying asleep, cock in hand. This will wipe the arrogant grin off his face.

That was your original plan. But you end up standing there staring at his cock for a little longer, it’s far bigger than what you had seen and you were a little shocked to admit it. You manage to get so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Johnny had woken up.

"Impressed?" he asks, his voice a little raspy with a knowing grin.

Your eyes flicker between his eyes, to his dick, to the wall behind him, unsure where your focus should be as you choke out your reply, "What? Oh... Oh shit..."

He laughs. "Hey don't worry, everyone whose seen it has the same reaction," he says pointing his cock at you.

"I'm going back to bed," you stutter, turning to go.

"Hey wait," Johnny calls after you in a loud whisper. You don't know what compulsion it is, but you stop and turn to face him; who’s now standing. You peek a glance down, noticing his cock has hardened a little but still isn’t fully erect. "Now, as you've been taking photos of it, perhaps you'd like to experience it in the flesh."

"I didn't ta..." You let the words drop as Johnny grins at you.

"Keep the pictures, I'm sure they were really for your own use anyway," he says with a smile. “Come on, I bet you've never experienced one this size have you? Jaehyun won't ever know, he's probably knocked out from the whisky."

You know it’s complete madness but you falter, you can’t keep your eyes off his member and the temptation to touch it, to let it fill you, was growing with every passing second. You were sure that in length it would definitely beat your boyfriends and thickness was almost the same size. You can’t even imagine how it can fit inside of you, but you have a feeling you’re about to find out. Johnny gently takes a hold of you and sits you down beside him on the couch.

"I really shouldn't be do..."

"Shh," Johnny whispers

He leans over and kisses you very softly on the lips. You don't back off, instead slightly open your lips and let Johnny take the lead. You were so turned on, although you weren’t sure if it was the arrogance of the handsome man doing it or just his huge dick standing to attention between his legs. You kiss for a couple of minutes, animal passion slowly taking over as you respond to him.

He lifts up your gown, revealing your erect nipples sticking up, the cold air rushing past. He smiles at you while you keep your eyes low, feeling the heat rise to your cheek. He removes your gown easily and throws it aside.

"Mind if I touch them?" he asks enjoying the sight of your nipples.

You shake your head slightly. Of course I don’t mind. You have no idea what had suddenly come over you but you were desperate for this man to take you. Johnny plants more soft kisses on your lip's and begins to caress your firm tits with his palm. You let out a moan of approval. He gently goes to work on each of your nipples, tweaking them between his fingers. You lean back, revealing all your nakedness except for the pink thong, which is now sporting a very damp patch.

"Fuck, you have the most gorgeous body. Can I kiss it all over?"

"Please," you whisper, "I would like that."

Starting at your neck Johnny works his way down your body, spending plenty of time sucking and nibbling at your breasts and nipples. You lay back as he moves down past your belly and towards the top of your thong. Johnny looks up at you and you nod.

His hands roam up to your hip, easily taking hold of the soft material and slips it down your legs leaving you fully naked. He looks in admiration at your pussy, and slightly parts your legs, going to work with his tongue. You bring your hands towards your breasts, fondling your tits in ecstasy as Johnny circles your hardened clit and laps at the juices that are dribbling from your entrance.

"Tastes good," Johnny murmurs as he continues to lick your cunt.

You groan again and take hold of Johnny’s head pushing him into you and arching your back so you can get as much of his tongue as possible. You’re so close to coming, but you fight it off desperately; you wanted his cock to push you over.

"Fuck me," you plead, letting go of his head.

Johnny doesn’t need asking twice. He brings a cushion under your head and spreads your legs as wide as possible. You’re still unsure whether that monster can fit inside your pussy, but you’re sure as hell wet enough and willing to give it a go. Johnny pushes his big purple helmet, smothered in pre cum, against your opening teasing you by slightly slipping it in and then pulling it back out.

"Fuck me, pleeeaaase," you beg.

"Sure thing," Johnny replies and in one go pushes the whole length of his cock straight into you without a warning.

"Agggh," You cry out.

It hurts momentarily, but within seconds the feeling of his cock completely filling you up is more than you have ever experienced before in your life. Johnny sets to work at a slower rhythm as your pussy, if it’s possible, gets even wetter. You can just about see his cock covered in your love juice each time he pulls it out before thrusting back in and making you gasp every time. You can’t believe you’re even doing this, the guy was a dick, but hell did he know how to take a woman to heaven and back.

The two of you continue fucking this way for a couple of minutes, wrapped up in each other's sweating bodies, moaning and panting before you tell him you want to get on top. He slips his cock fully out of you and it springs up. You grab hold of it and wank it, barely able to get your hand fully enclosed on it. It feels like gripping the thick end of a baseball bat.

"Impressed aren't you?" He asks breathlessly.

"Mmmmm," You purr in reply.

You let go of his cock and ask him to lie on the rug on the living room floor. Johnny gets on the floor and, with some difficulty, you squat down over his cock. Your pussy is already feeling severely damaged from the initial fucking he had given you, but in a very very good way. You take hold of his shaft and guide it into your pussy. You still can’t believe that it’s possible to fit the whole thing in, but you’d done it once and so without hesitation, you slide down his pole again until you can feel your own juices seeping out onto his pubic hair.

"Oh that is so fucking good," you groan.

"Ride it you little whore.” Johnny grabs hold of your breasts as they droop above him.

"Pull my nipples," you urge. Johnny does so and you gasp once more in ecstasy.

"Oh my god this is so fucking good,"

You lean forward and nestle your head into Johnny’s neck as he thrusts his hips in the air knocking against yours, his cock driving into your pussy.

As it turns out you’re going to feel Jaehyun’s cock a lot sooner than you thought. You lift your head up to arch yourself back and really work on Johnny’s cock but you freeze on the spot.

"Oh fuck..." you mutter.

Jaehyun’s standing in front of you, just in his boxer shorts, with his cock sticking out of them while he moves his hand up his length.

"Shit, I..." You go to get off Johnny, but he holds onto you and you notice Jaehyun wink at him. "Wait a fucking minute," You gasp, "was this a setup?"

"Afraid so," Jaehyun replies, "Johnny saw your picture in my wallet one time and said how gorgeous you were. I told him if he could beat me in a game of poker he could have you if you'd let him. I knew you'd get turned on flirting all night."

You struggle to process the words, Johnny not slowing down as he pounds into you, your body being bounced up and down as you stare at Jaehyun. Clearly Jaehyun had not been as drunk as you thought. You hadn't exactly been turned on, but now you definitely were. You gasp as you feel the cock buried inside you begin to twitch and Johnny brings his fingers between your squished bodies, squeezing gently at your clit.

“Ugh..” the moan escapes your lips, although it’s meant to be silent. Both the boys hear it, and it powers Johnny more as he stretches himself back into you.

“You look so fucking hot,” Jaehyun murmurs moving closer to your brushed up bodies, “Bend over and keep fucking him, there’s no reason why I should be sitting on the sidelines.”

Johnny manages to work at a faster pace, sliding his cock in and out of your pussy, fucking it thoroughly and wildly. Jaehyun moves out of your sight and behind you, most likely just watching your body being bounced up and down.

But suddenly, you feel something wet trickle down your ass and before you know it, there’s a finger probing at the entrance. He pushes a finger straight up, letting you cry out again. You’d had his cock in your ass before, but the fullness inside your pussy already was going to prevent anything else from entering you without causing a lot of pain. ��

“Ahhh fuck, go slow,” you beg

Jaehyun holds his cock inside you, letting you warm up to his length as Johnny continues to move in and out of your pussy. Slowly, he eases his cock into you as Johnny holds your waist, holding you still to allow them in. They both work to build a rhythm, feeling their cocks rub against each other through the thin lining of your walls; the friction getting them both even harder. The initial pain which had been present before Jaehyun had first forced himself inside you had faded and now, you were in heaven.

With the grunts and moans coming from the three of you, it was only a matter of time before Yuta fumbles down the stairs, initially half asleep. When he finally makes out the figures on the floor in the living room, he strips himself free, instantly feeling much more alive. “Can I join?”

You had forgotten he was still in the house but seeing him at the entrance of the doorway, his cock standing erect, you nod. What the fuck is one more cock in the equation going to do?

It’s a rather awkward position but Yuta manages to squat down and force his cock into your mouth, letting you suck roughly around him. It’s a difficult task to concentrate on the length in your mouth as your body continues to be pounded from both holes. You grasp onto Yuta’s cock with your hands, attempting to guide it to your mouth, but each time you manage to grab it, your body jerks and his pre-cum slobbers against your lips, painting around the edges.

Although Yuta is the last to join, he’s the first to explode. His first spurt of cum landing into your mouth with a struggle. He gets up quickly, wanking his cock as fast as he can, showering the rest over your face and hair with his creamy cum. He squeezes the tip, forcing every last drop of cum from his cock before he finally flops against the couch, watching the remaining scene unfold.

You manage to hold on for a few more minutes before you finally feel the need to find your release. The feeling of two cocks rubbing against each other inside you becoming too much.

“I’m cominnng,” you scream, feeling the gush of juice fill your insides and burst around Johnny’s cock.

The two boys hold still, pushing themselves up to your hilt as you feel the overwhelming rush of your orgasm hit you. It seems to go on forever as you cry in ecstasy. Your body shakes with sheer pleasure as you come down from your sexual high and that image seems to do it for the boys.

Jaehyun pushes himself into your ass as far as he can, grabbing onto your hips as his cum shoots deep into your passage. He continues to fuck you as he empties himself, making sure every last drop is left inside before he finally slips out.

Your focus goes back to the man beneath you, hands gripping at the sides of his chest as you claw at him, letting him guide you to reach your second high; Jaehyun’s presence being pushed back in your mind. Your body shudders and trembles as you’re left to hold your weight up before eventually, you give in, losing feeling in your arms as you fall onto Johnny’s chest and your pussy spasms with his twitching cock.

“Let me fill you up,” he groans, thrusting deeper inside to shoot a stream after stream flow of cum into your worn out pussy.

“Don’t stop until you’ve fucking ruined her,” Jaehyun calls out from behind; clearly getting into this.

With a few more hard thrusts, Johnny falls back against the floor in exhaustion; your body following with his. The room is filled with your heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself as you lay still, scared to take his cock out. When you finally feel him soften, you carefully ease yourself off it, leaving a trail of Johnny’s cum dripping from your pussy.

***

The night remains in your memory as an exhausting event. You’re not sure how you wake up in bed but the faint recollection of Johnny’s voice echoes inside your head as you remember Jaehyun’s warmth surrounding you; helping you off Johnny.

“Good game, let me know if you want a rematch.” Johnny chuckles, directing his words to your boyfriend.

Jaehyun laughs with him, the vibration of his chest causing your body to rock in his hold as you attempt to fight off the droopiness of your eyelids. With the very little energy you have left, you being thinking of next time. Your boyfriend never lost at poker, so you were certain, he must have deliberately lost the game and he would definitely, do it again.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #johnny smut #nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct yuta #nct127 #jaehyun x reader #johnny x reader #nct #kpop smut #smut #jung jaehyun #seo johnny #nct x reader

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catboylupin · 3 years

Note

you have rly interesting takes abt wolfstar!! I was wondering if you had any head canons about the Prank like why Sirius did it and what Remus' reaction was?

hello and thank you and i’m So sorry that this has been sitting in my drafts for like Weeks at this point.... i’m physically incapable of doing anything intellectually demanding in a timely matter and this is such a hard topic because, like, i don’t know!! i’m not very well acquainted with the Fandom Mythology surrounding the Prank or the mainstream interpretation of events so i really don’t know what to make of it, especially in terms of sirius’s motivation. here are a few things that i referenced when typing this all out: meta meta/fic fic beautiful art

the first thing that is interesting to me, and something to keep in the back of our minds when thinking about this, is that when discussing the prank in the shack during PoA, sirius says that “it served [snape] right.”

also i think that the song hospital by the modern lovers possesses some outstanding post Prank vibes...

ok so re: sirius’s motivation. i don’t know. i think it was a combination of things. i don’t even think that sirius entirely knew why he did it, or what there was to gain.

i guess the thing to sort out is to what extent sirius factored remus into the equation. was he not thinking about remus at all and how it would affect him and just wanted to hurt snape because he hated him, or was he like “this is for remus and remus will think it’s funny too”?

i think that he felt slightly goaded by snape because snape was being a massive asshole trying to get them expelled, and he also just did not like him at all. like, the most obvious motivation or end goal in sirius telling him is that he just wanted to scare snape so he would leave them alone and also it would be a little funny because hahaha he is a slimey wizard nazi (at age 15/16 do you think sirius would be politically advanced enough to have a ‘punching nazis’ outlook on snape? i don’t know)

and i don’t think that he ever seriously thought that remus would react well (like, how could he? sirius had to have known that remus’s worst fear ever was hurting someone). and he was literally risking the entire school finding out he was a werewolf. but maybe a small part of sirius was like “take that snape!! that’s what you get for bullying my beautiful mysterious friend!! remus will love this lol”

but i think the thing that makes the most sense is that he wasn’t thinking about remus that much and didn’t think he would react well.

and here i where you can start thinking about sirius’s upbringing and how that affected how he viewed werewolves/remus.

i think that sirius was probably raised surrounded by some pretty intense anti-werewolf beliefs and he dealt with remus being a werewolf by 1. separating remus from the wolf and 2. kind of like romanticizing it. so much of sirius’s attraction to remus stemmed from this sort of fascination.. james was so similar to sirius and generally uncomplicated, but remus, even though he was kind of weird looking, always sort of elicited this morbid curiosity from him. and he saw remus’s lycanthropy as something he could fix, or at least help (see: the animagus thing, my personal headcanon that he was very into taking care of remus during their relationship). remus was his tragic werewolf friend. but remus never thought that sirius understood his lycanthropy the way remus wanted him to, that there was always this sort of tension, a lingering sense of “you think you’re so different from your family, but you’re not really.”

sirius could have thought that snape actually knew about remus and wanted to make him prove that he knew, like: “sirius, i know what remus’s secret is, hint hint wink wink” “okay, if you really know then go to the shrieking shack,” like snape kind of goaded sirius into telling him, and sirius thought that he would know better. but that is just such a profoundly stupid thing for sirius to do, and i feel like putting too much blame on snape is being too generous to sirius.

leescoresbies has an interesting headcanon that the prank happened around the time sirius ran away from home and he was thus was very emotionally volatile. and so it was in part a result of sirius’s trauma/anger/joy, and i like that idea, those emotions had to have been a factor. and if you are someone that has a really hard time reconciling with sirius’s shitty behavior as a teen, that’s kind of an easy/ canon compliant way of saying “yeah, he was an asshole, but there was also this other thing going on...etc.” however, i don’t think that was the only reason, or even the main reason. i think that sirius is a deeply flawed person and thinking about the prank from the perspective of said flawed-ness makes his and remus’s relationship all the more complicated/interesting.

and unfortunately a lot of this sort of boils down to whether or not sirius wanted to kill or seriously injure snape. those were the stakes he was dealing with in this situation. i don’t think that sirius wanted to kill him, just because that’s not really the sort of thing teenagers do, you know. and, as further evidenced by how he treated kreacher, sirius doesn’t always treat those he considers lesser than him with any sort of respect. maybe sirius just didn’t care that much about whether or not he died. he knew on an intellectual level that he was sending snape to his likely death, but maybe he just didn’t make that calculation in the moment? like sirius was so used to not facing consequences that maybe he thought things wouldn’t turn out that badly.

i can understand, maybe, in sirius’s version of events, in his own reckless, teenage narrative, that he thought it would be okay to hurt snape. but remus? did he seriously fail to make the calculation that he would be turning him into a murderer? what sirius did was such a major, major trespass of trust/friendship in a way that is actually sort of unforgivable.

doesn’t sirius say in PoA “i’d rather die than betray my friends!” ? well, he did : / he betrayed remus..

and i think that remus would be massively upset and i don’t think he ever really completely forgave him.

when did this happen? 5th or 6th year? i think that by this time remus would kind of be relegated to a state of melodramatic, shame-ridden misery that came along with being sort of in love with sirius. and so the prank really tore him apart, because of course it would. remus was so used to being defined by his lycanthropy, used to facing discrimination, and his friends were his one refuge from that. but then sirius who he loved used him basically as a means to an end. what sirius did was incredibly exploitative— he exploited remus’s marginalized identity for personal gain without thinking about how it would affect him. and i think that remus really did care about him enough to want to forgive him. he probably felt like he had to forgive him (his friends were too important for him to lose, and, importantly, there was probably this feeling of “i am a werewolf and therefore i need to be extraordinarily forgiving in order to be perceived as non threatening, and this is just how the world treats people like me and i can’t and shouldn’t fight back”). and those are just such deeply fucked up feelings to feel towards a friend, especially one you admire and have a major soul crushing crush on.

i think that there was a period of time after the fact when they weren’t really talking, remus was very rightfully upset, everyone was angry at sirius... i think that sirius apologized, but sort of begrudgingly. because twenty years later he still thought that snape got what he deserved.

at times i think that remus was someone who saw his relationships as very transactional. and initially he felt in debt to the other marauders because of the animagus thing and just because they were his friends. and, as dear @direwolf-summer said in this post, the prank changed the dynamic between remus and sirius: remus was no longer the one in debt, sirius was. and that is such an interesting point. remus starts demanding more from him and he finally feels that, even though sirius was really popular and closer to james or whatever, they were on even standing. this is how he was able to be more forward about his feelings— sirius stopped being this precious object who demanded endless patience in order to retain as a friend (or so he thought, this is remus’s insecurity showing). he stopped feeling so bad about having a crush on sirius. he’d be like “fuck you sirius. i’m in love with you. deal with it and you have to be nice about it in order to repay your debts.” like he wouldn’t say that out loud but it would be in his internal monologue and he would kinda hint at it.

there’s that line in eclipse and transit where remus says: “You say one thing and do another and half the time you don’t even try to say it, it’s like, I don’t know, like you’re daring me to leave. And everything—every single thing Sirius, it all comes back to January of sixth year, whether you’ll ever admit it or not. Or whether you even realize it” and i think it’s fitting. during fights remus probably would bring it up, and sirius would fail to understand why remus never got over it. like, sirius: “i apologized i was 15!!” and remus: “this is bigger than just that, what you did was emblematic of your flaws as a person and how even though you understand me more than almost anyone else you still don’t understand me completely and it frustrates me!!! and also i feel like you never fully understood that what you did was extraordinary fucked up.”

and i think that remus was so in love with sirius that he did forgive him, or otherwise allowed his love and affection to forget about it. but it was always bubbling under the surface...and that’s why their relationship was sort of volatile, that’s why he was so willing to believe that sirius was the spy (as in, “he betrayed me, why wouldn’t he have betrayed james and lily?”)

now i’m remembering when, in one of the snape’s memory /pensieve / flashback scenes in OotP, sirius says “i wish it was the full moon” and remus says, darkly, “you might.” now, we don’t know if that scene takes place before or after the Prank (before probably? idk), but i feel like it further compounds the extent to which sirius seems woefully unaware that remus is a werewolf and it’s not something he can separate from himself and that lycanthropy impacts every facet of his life. sirius came to understand it as just some fun thing to do every month. his sort of ignorance towards other people’s needs and experiences is also further evidenced by how he treated harry like he was james. sirius has a pretty good track record of taking other people’s pain and making into something for him to enjoy. and he doesn’t do so in a way that is entirely selfish either, i think he really thought he was helping harry and remus. maybe it all goes back to his family and childhood trauma or something (doesn’t everything? “it all started one afternoon in the 1960s..”)

#i have vague thoughts about other things but that's the extent to which i am capable of articulating my feelings #this is all gibberish isn't it? idk. no tldr im forcing you to read all my illegible brain soup #wolfstar #wolfstar meta #the prank #ask #meta #this is the thing i got done today i guess i'm a genius!!! if i finish my overdue econ ia i will be god!!!!!!!#op

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Heyyy! Long time to talk. I hope you’re enjoying your summer. I have a question about how you take requests: how specific do you like them? I saw you’re writing for EXU and I already live Orym. I would just like something soft yet funny, but I can request something specific if you’d like? Lmk 💜 thanks

-🐋

Heya! Summer's great. Hope you're enjoying yours. Requests can be as specific or nonspecific as you want them to be. As long as I know which character(s) I'm writing for and have an outline of what you want like you've done here I'm all good! Thank you for requesting and I hope this one's to your liking! 😘

Word had reached you a group of strangers had made it to the settlement of the Fire Ashari outside of Emon, among them the Air Ashari you’d been waiting for. He may have never been to Emon before but you’d met the halfling many times before in Zephrah. You’d spent plenty of time with the Air Ashari in your years but now finally, Orym got the pleasure of experiencing your humble outpost life out here himself. Well, that was the plan anyway. Sometimes plans go down the drain.

When Orym finds out several firetamers were absolutely obliterated leaving only two survivors; clearly not counting you among those two he feared for your wellbeing but much like the Ashari training provided and interactions, one must be in control of their emotions especially in these dire times. Someone would have informed him if you’d suffered an ill fate, right? He hopes so. You had been called back to the Flamereach Outpost months ago because things were spiking up and that did mean you’d be in the thick of it. All hands on deck, hence your premature separation back in Zephrah.

Orym feels wrong to say but he couldn’t be more thankful for that earthquake. Seeing you running head first into unknown danger might not do good on his stress levels but knowing you’re alive, that’s all he needs for now. Not like he and his friends don’t run into danger straight after you. On to the Oh No Plateau.

In the aftermath you were the one to escort this little group of strangers plus Orym back to the outpost. They were already a little worse for wear not used to, deal with or resistant to the ash, dust and poisonous gases, the firetamers unanimously decided it’s best to help these folks down instead of letting them find their own way. You of course volunteered to take on this task and no one was going to object as they got enough from this group to know they’re trouble. Rather you than them.

Taking the lead you answered some of their questions. You have to admit the mentions of the ‘ash-hole’ broke you enough to send you into a laughing fit. The dwarf, Dariax felt quite accomplished as these folks, your folks seem a bit more rigid and reserved, much like Orym in his opinion so it’s good to see not all of them are stuck ups.

Fearne nudged Orym on with a little push in your direction causing him to stumble. You’re dextrous enough to prevent the halfling from bumping into you possibly causing you to fall with him. Instead you catch him before he falls flat on his face. The look the two of you share does not go unnoticed by the faun and is very much revealing in the closer-than-friends kind of way.

Once conferred with Lorkathar they’re left to their own devices and the shitstorm of questions thrown at Orym to figure out who you are; or to some of them more importantly; who you are to him specifically. Orym tries to answer without giving too much of your own personal life away. It’s your life, not his and he doesn’t feel like he that’s his to share with others.

You met him in Zephrah on your journey to learn more, better your druidic skills. Part of this training was physical combat and weapons training. That’s where you grew closer. You weren’t exactly the greatest with a sword and Orym helped you go through training to where you could settle on a spear. Cue the questions about what other physical training you shared with him. Orym did not dignify that with a response. Really any question answered that lead to yet another innuendo made he did not dignify with a response.

There’s a knock on the door the group had been given to recover from the day’s events. The conversation falls silent as another knock raps lightly on the door. Dariax and Opal make eye contact before both rushing towards the door, the pleasure of answering going to whomever gets there first. They’re not sure but they hope its you. They have so little insight in the details of Orym’s life and they’re not going to let the chance fly to get some leverage on the halfling should they need to bring it up in the future if they want to commit another definitely-not-a-crime.

A white haired human dressed in pinks opens the door with a wide smile radiating mischief. You smile back although a little forced, to cover the confusion trying to peak through.

“Hi! You must be the firetamer Orym has told us all about. It’s so nice to meet you. I am Opal.” She grabs your hand and shakes it and you just let it happen. How the hell did Orym get sucked up in this group? They’re worse than you’d thought over your initial encounter. Not in a bad way just a… different one.

“Likewise. It seems like you have me at a disadvantage. You appear to know about me yet I do not know much about you. I don’t mean to be rude but I am looking for Orym, of the Air Ashari…” You exchange pleasantries but are cut off as the woman looks over her shoulder.

“Orym! Orym! Your lover is here to see you!” She screeches for the halfling who was already a few feet behind her, embarrassed this is how you’re properly reunited without the pressure of your respective lives.

“Hey.” Orym smiles through the embarrassment caused by his friends watching the two of you like some sort of play waiting what the characters will do next.

“Hey.” You smile back trying to not put too much mind to the curious company Orym had found himself in. You feel like the more attention you give them, the slimmer your chances at a calm and quiet moment with Orym will become.

“Well, don’t be rude, Orym. Invite your friend in.” Dorian perks up trying to keep the obvious ulterior motives of Opal and Dariax at bay but you weren’t born yesterday.

“I was thinking maybe we could step outside instead? I wouldn’t want to disturb your friends’ evening.” Orym catches on to your intent.

“Yeah. Yeah of course.” He brushes past Opal outside and grabs your hand practically begging you to lead the way before the others decide to keep you here.

“Enjoy your evening.” Fearne, saves your asses before the others can protests. Orym is glad to have the faun on his side and he’s pretty sure this favour granted puts him in her debt but it’ll have been worth it.

“It was nice seeing you all. I’m sure we’ll have more time to grow better acquainted in the future.”

“Have fun on your evening stroll, Orym!” Dariax wiggles his eyebrows and the halfling sends him a look to shut him up as you begin leading him away.

The sun is not yet set casting the outpost and mesa in an orange glow with the view of the city west of you. It’s a beautiful evening. Orym understands why you like sunsets so much. You bask in the rays of ember, a sight Orym hadn’t seen in too long. He hadn’t realised how much he missed this, how much he missed you. You stop at the side of a stone ruined building. You let go of Orym’s hand as you grab onto any footing you can and scale the building onto the roof. It’s only two floors tall so you lean over the edge and look down at Orym.

Getting the memo Orym climbs up following a similar path you had to reach the top. You lay down on the rooftop with a familiar comfort, as if the world’s concerns were left below. Orym had always admired this about you. It’s something he could never do himself. You turn over on your stomach, lean your elbows on the rooftop, head on your hands with a grin as you cross your legs behind you. He knows that look.

“So how does it feel being the most responsible individual among the chaos?” Orym pulls himself onto the rooftop and gives you a look. As he walks over to you he hooks his leg around your elbow and yanks making you lose your balance. You gasp and roll back over to your back supporting yourself on your elbows.

“Rude!” You laugh as Orym sits down next to you. Shoulders leaning against each other you watch the sunset. It’s a habit you had fallen into in Zephrah and it’s a habit picked back up again even after many months apart.

“I missed you.” Orym presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder.

“Missed you too.” You sigh content you’re back together once more, no matter how brief that might be as Orym and his little group of adventurers has been sent on another task to find Gilmore. You’d join if you could but you have your responsibilities here and Orym knows that like no other. Once this is all behind you things can finally go back to normal and you actually get to spend more time together without the world burning down whenever you turn your back.

“So how is it you of all people end up with this bunch of chaos bringers?” You laugh. You may not know his friends personally nor did you have much to go off in your brief interactions with them but you know well enough they’re trouble and chaos magnets. Orym, having an air of peace and calm around him shifts quickly to panic in stressful situations he doesn’t know how to navigate based on instinct and here he is navigating Emon of all places with them, getting involved in all sorts of conflict.

“Me of all people?” Orym feigns offence but he’s well aware you’re right. He’s not even sure himself how this weird little dynamic they have going works. He gives it a thought.

“Maybe I just naturally gravitate towards chaos. You are a testament of that.” Your jaw drops. Your halfling’s found himself with a new kind of boldness to him previously hidden beneath layers of Ashari customs. He may not realise it just yet himself but these people have a good effect on him.

“Are you calling me chaotic, Orym of the Air Ashari?”

“I’m sorry, but you really expect me to answer that question? You are chaos incarnate.” He laughs and you let yourself drop back, the halfling previously leaning his weight against you loses his balance and falls onto your stomach. You put your hands beneath your head watching the orange glow reflected off the clouds with a smile.

“You know what, I will take that as a compliment. Someone needs to bring a little chaos into your life. I’m glad I’m not the only one able to fulfil that task. They seem like good people.”

“They stole a vestige, broke into places and killed the henchmen of some criminal organisation all within the past twenty four hours.” Orym deadpans. He’s still a tad unsure how to feel about it.

“And you went along with it. Maybe one day you’ll be as much as a chaos incarnate as the rest of us.” Orym’s fingers lace with yours as he holds onto your hand.

“It’ll be the day the elemental chaos seeps through into this world.”

“Who says it doesn’t already. Embrace the chaos, Orym.” You wave your free hand making a cloud of embers appear above you like fireflies and make them dance in the wind. He’s already embraced the chaos and he knows it. It started with you but has extended to his new friends as well. Though, he’ll have to admit, he’ll take your chaos over theirs any day if presented with the choice. No matter. He’ll take any moment with you he can get now and be patient until you’re reunited in the future. There’s still adventures to be had, just for now your paths diverge. They’ll reconnect in the nearby future. He’s sure of it. You’re sure of it.

#exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #exu #exandria unlimited #orym x reader #critical role x reader #critrole x reader

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thebigqueer · 3 years

Text

"Pick Your Fighter: Tater Trot or Will Solace?" - Solangelo - One-Shot

Summary: Nico tries to befriend a pegasus. This one is for the mythological creatures prompt for @solangeloweek !!

Word Count: 1745

Read on AO3

“Will, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Nico edges away from the pegasus, a nervous look flitting across his face as he does so. “Pegasi don’t usually like me.”

Will looks up at Nico, his hand momentarily freezing as he strokes the creature’s mane. A kind look overcomes his features when he notices his boyfriend’s reluctance. “I think it’s worth a try,” he says softly. “I know they don’t like you, but I don’t particularly like the idea of going on a chariot through the sky for a date, either. I don’t like how bumpy it gets.”

Nico huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, I don’t like feeling a horse’s hooves crashing against my chest when it’s kicking me away.”

Will chuckles and turns back to brushing the pegasus’ mane. “Has one actually done that to you?” he asks curiously.

“No, but I just know that if someone wasn’t around they’d probably try to throw me to the ground. They’re only nice to me when someone else is present.”

Will smiles and drops the brush to the ground, which thuds softly against the fiery green grass. Then he steps closer to Nico and takes one of his hands; as their fingertips touch, a spark of electricity races up both of their spines. Nico has to physically restrain himself from blushing, but Will lets the pink spill across his cheeks without regret.

“In that case,” murmurs Will, “you have me around. And I really want to take you up to the sky. New York City looks so pretty in the evening.” He leans in and pouts, and Nico can’t help the swelling of his heart at the sight of the blond’s expression. “Besides,” Will adds, “I think we deserve it after such a hectic week.”

Nico doesn’t argue with him. It’s only been one crazy thing after another, what with Nico’s mini quest to retrieve an item of Hermes’ and Will being stuck in the infirmary after a particularly eventful Capture the Flag game.

But Nico also isn’t excited to ride a pegasus. Heights make him nervous - what if Zeus immediately blasts him out of the sky? What if he falls and crashes to his death? He doesn’t exactly want his cause of death to be “ejection from a pegasus.”

Almost as if Will can sense his absurd thoughts, he smiles in amusement. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Nico. I promise.” He turns his head to the creature, who is already glaring at Nico. A frown tugs at Will’s features when he notices the wariness that strangles the pegasus.

He faces Nico again and slips his hand into his boyfriend’s, using it to lead the two of them closer to the winged animal. Nico tries to drive his heels into the ground in an attempt to protest, but a wave of curiosity splashes over him. What if he really can get this pegasus to accept him? What if he really can gain another friend?

So he lets Will take him. The pegasus stares at Nico, its gaze turning fiery with anxiety, but it doesn’t move. Perhaps it’s just as interested in Nico as he is of it.

Will pauses in front of the pegasus’ line of sight, staring it down with a calm, relaxing gaze. He strokes his hand over its muzzle and smiles. Almost immediately, the creature melts under his warmth and turns its focus away from Nico.

But something releases in Will, too. His body curves into the pegasus, fitting in perfectly with the warmth of the creature’s body, and a dazed, faraway look overwhelms his eyes.

“You know,” Will whispers, talking almost as if to himself, “Silena used to be really good with pegasi. They used to love her. Any time she stepped into the stables horses would just turn her way and their wings would flap in excitement.”

Nico’s heart turns to lead at Will’s words. Despite the fact that her death had been so many years ago, just the mention of Silena’s name sends a crash of grief over him. He waits a moment to let the power of her very concept bloom and disintegrate in the air. Then, quietly, he says, “Yeah?”

Will nods, though a cloud of sadness arcs over his head. “She used to let me come with her to the stables. That’s where I learned to take good care of them.” A small sigh billows through his lips. His hand freezes its movement, and his gaze stretches into the forest, searching for something lost, trying to catch a hold of something he can’t reach anymore. “She saw beauty in a lot of creatures.”

A blanket of silence falls over the boys. Nico shifts hesitantly on his feet, and he considers holding his hand out to Will, just to tug him out of whatever spiral of emotions he’s found himself in.

But before Nico makes a move, Will turns his gaze back to him. His blue eyes glimmer dazedly, but nevertheless, he forces a wavering smile over his mouth. He’s awfully good at that. “I was scared, too, you know. When I first started hanging out with them.” Will chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I know you and I have different experiences, and I know pegasi don’t like you because of your whole death thing, but… I don’t know. Maybe I can help you a little. I’ll use things Silena taught me.”

Nico winces with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Will. I just don’t want to feel bad.”

Will holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s up to you. But who knows. Maybe you can convince this one that you’re harmless.”

Nico considers Will’s words. He looks at the pegasus nervously, who stares right back at him as if wondering the same thing: Can we really learn to trust each other?

Something in Nico’s heart urges him to push forward, to make a move. He locks eyes with Will again, and in a moment of understanding, the blond smiles triumphantly.

“Here.” Will pulls Nico closer, and despite his nervousness, Nico allows him to be urged forward. Will takes Nico’s hand and raises it up to the pegasus’ muzzle - not quite touching, but close enough so that Nico’s fingers simmer with the heat of the creature. Will bows his head closer to his boyfriend’s ear and whispers, “Just try to touch it gently.”

A wild look of anxiety sparks in the pegasus’ dark eyes, but there’s something determined there, too. It’s just as curious as Nico is to see if they can be friends.

Hesitance seethes in the air between Nico’s fingers and the fur of the creature. Time stills as the human and the pegasus watch each other in anticipation.

Then Nico touches the muzzle. The winged animal’s eyes flash with surprise, then melt into a puddle of obsidian softness. After a beat of reluctance, Nico finds himself drowning under the softness of the pegasus’ body. All the tension, all the anxiety that writhed within him just seconds before completely evaporates, and he’s left with only a sense of ease. Warmth encompasses his chest as he explores this new friend before him.

He runs his fingers up and down over the pegasus’ forehead, and Will lets go of his hand. Nico overflows with a certain giddiness at the realization that this majestic creature is admitting its trust to him.

Maybe he can trust it, too.

Behind him, a low laugh tumbles into his ears. Nico nearly jumps; he was almost convinced he and the winged creature were alone in the wild, but apparently they had company.

Nico turns his gaze momentarily to Will’s blue eyes. A smile flickers on the blond’s face, and a confused expression reflects across Nico’s own features. “What?” he asks, puzzled. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” whispers Will, though the sparkle in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s just that… I told you so. You’ve made a friend!”

Nico scoffs and rolls his eyes, though a small smile still cracks against his lips. “Whatever, nerd.”

Will shifts behind him, but Nico doesn’t care to turn and find out what he’s doing. He’s too busy brushing his fingers over the face of his new acquaintance, curious as to the creature’s history. It’s another few moments until Nico feels Will’s presence behind him, and he turns his eyes back to his boyfriend.

Will offers a soft smile when Nico looks at him. A golden eyebrow arches gracefully against his forehead. “Are you ready to go? I think you’ve proved your trustworthiness to this pegasus.”

Nico considers Will’s question. His body hums with a warm excitement, and a cool, comforting breeze brushes against the back of his neck.

He feels good right now. He feels at home.

When Nico turns his gaze up, he finds a golden hue threatening the blue sky; the sun begins to drown under the weight of the incoming night. If they want to leave, they’d better do it now.

Nico sighs. A comforting quiet surrounds them, filled only with the new chirping of crickets and the sound of Nico’s breathing.

After a beat of silence, the son of Hades whispers, “What’s its name?”

Will frowns. “I’m not sure if we have a name yet. I think she’s a new one.”

A new excitement overwhelms Nico’s heart, and he looks at Will elatedly. “Can I call her something, then?”

Will shrugs and laughs. “Sure, I guess.”

Nico frowns in concentration as a cacophony of names ring in his head. Various Italian names, Greek names, even names of simple objects flit across his mind, but nothing feels quite right yet.

It isn’t until after a few moments that something finally clicks. A smile slips over Nico’s mouth. “How about Tater Trot?” he suggests to Will.

The blond snorts. “That sounds kinda stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Nico murmurs in dissent. “Let’s see how she likes it.”

In response, the pegasus huffs in agreement, and Nico turns to offer a grin to his boyfriend. “Looks like she’s into it. Tater Trot it is.”

Will rolls his eyes. “All right, whatever. Are you ready to go?”

Nico strokes his hand once more down his new friend’s muzzle, then nods his head at Will. “Let’s go, then. This view better be as pretty as you tell me it is, or else I’m going to leave you for the horse.”

Will laughs and throws an arm around Nico. “Guess things just got serious between you two.”

#solangelo week 2021 #solangeloweek2021 #solangeloweek #solangelo #nico di angelo #my writing #will solace #solangelo fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #will solace fanfic #solangelo fic #nico di angelo fic #will solace fic #riordanverse fanfic #riordanverse fic #trials of apollo #toa #rick riordan #riordanverse

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americasass81 · 3 years

Text

Because You Loved Me

Warnings:- Mentions of Surgery, Mental and Emotional Exhaustion, Very Brief Mention of Drugging, Fluff, M & F Smut (more implied than outright described). Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. Feedback is welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Synopsis:- Feeling low from the grind of daily life, your man tries his best to bring a little light back to your life.

A/N:- Though not a sequel, in my mind this can take place in the same AU as my other Brock fic, Peeling Back The Layers. Yet both can be read independently of each other. Written with @saiyanprincessswanie in mind but at the same time it is still a pretty generic pile of fluff. Hope you like Missy.

Word Count:- 3,165

You were exhausted . . . mentally, emotionally, physically. You ached deep down in places you never knew you could and the more you thought about it, the more exhausted you became. As the night's respite gave way to morning's light, your first thought always seemed to be 'how do I face another day?' Yet somehow you always found a way. Despite the knocks life kept sending your way and the weariness weighing down your soul, you were at heart a positive person and was determined to embrace the good things in life no matter how hard that may be.

With that thought in your head, you dragged your feet out of bed and making your way to the bathroom, used the facilities and showered under the warm, refreshing water before returning to your bedroom to get ready for the day ahead. Heading to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast you ate in silence as you waited for Brock to show up. Thinking back on the almost six months since that fateful day he came to your rescue, it had been one adventure after another.

Despite all your health issues and the unpleasant grind of daily life, this gruff looking man had become a balm for your slowly fracturing soul. Taking you places you never thought you'd see, while telling you he loved you every chance he got, you still wondered what you had done in this life or any other to deserve him.

Finishing up your food, you deposited the bowl in the sink and thought about what you might do for the day, but found you couldn't really find the motivation. Instead, taking the latest mystery novel you were reading, you headed out to the back garden to hopefully relax and catch up on another chapter. Getting a few pages in however, you suddenly dropped the book in your lap as tears inexplicably cascaded down your cheeks.

Feeling lower than you had in a really long time, you were shocked to open your eyes to discover yourself nestled against a strong chest as two powerful arms wrapped around you. "My love, why do these tears stain your beautiful cheeks?" Brock asked and you had to smile a bit at the fact that what should have sounded cheesy actually sounded sweet. "I hate seeing you like this," he added before you could answer, "please tell me what's wrong."

Looking at the man who had come to mean so much to you in such a short space of time, you snuggled deeper into his chest as you thought about all the negative thoughts weighing on your soul. Looking up at him eventually as he waited patiently for you to speak, you took a deep breath and thought carefully about what you wanted to say.

"I don't really know Brock, I guess I just feel like one raw, emotional nerve. The world seems so full of needless hate, my upcoming surgery has me scared and exhausted and sometimes I don't know why you're here with me or what I even have to offer this world." you explained and it hurt him deeply that the girl who saw so much good in him and helped awaken and nurture it, was now questioning her own worth.

Taking time to dry your tears, this powerhouse of a man who never thought he would be worthy of anything waited until he was sure you had talked yourself out before speaking. "Oh my love, please know that while your feelings are valid and you have every right to be exhausted, you are also a shining light in the darkest night."

Gazing down at you with more love than he ever thought he was capable of feeling, he bent forwards and kissed you tenderly, hoping to convey all the emotion his heart held for you. Continuing to hold you a while longer, he soon found you fast asleep in his arms and so taking you inside, placed you lovingly on the bed before heading to the bathroom to clean up. Looking at himself in the mirror he hoped with every fiber of his being he would be able to find his sweet, beautiful girl again and bring her home.

Returning to the bedroom to dress quickly and quietly, he placed a soft kiss against your forehead and whispered he loved you before heading to the living room to make good on his plan. Knowing that you always put everyone before yourself and that you didn't like to put people out, he also knew that a break back in nature was just what you needed. Arranging everything with an old friend, all he had to worry about now was moving you from a to b without you objecting.

Hearing you stirring around the bedroom some time later, he hurried in and told you that if you were feeling up to it he'd take you to your favorite restaurant, otherwise he'd happily cook for you and come up with some way to help you relax. Looking at him like he'd suddenly grown two heads, you blurted out the question on your lips before you could stop yourself. "Are you telling me you know how to cook? Something other than tea and toast?"

Smirking at your cheek to cast aspersions on his cooking ability, he swiftly traversed the space between you and taking you gently in his arms, kissed you with a passion that all but took your breath away before speaking as he ran his hands along your back. "How are you doing baby? Did the rest help any bit?"

Sinking into his warm and loving embrace, you wondered what you had done right to end up with this loving and thoughtful man. Sure some people still saw him as a gruff outsider, but to you he was your rock. Someone you knew in the depths of your soul would gladly take on your suffering if it meant you got to live a life free of pain and worry. Concerned by your non response, he moved a hand to your chin and cupping it gently, gazed into your ethereal features while he waited for you to find your voice.

"Yeah, some bit." you replied meekly, taking his hand and kissing his palm before bringing your fingers together. "I don't know. I just wish I could get away from it all for a while. Somewhere the stress and worry of being me wouldn't follow. Crazy right?"

"No baby," he said, walking both of you towards the bed before sitting down and placing you in his lap, "that's not crazy at all. Your battery's probably running on empty. What you need is a few days away from the world."

"Yeah right Brock and how can that happen?” you laughed, swatting him playfully on the arm. “I have doctor's appointments out my ass and you have work commitments. It's a nice dream, but that's all it is." you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder as he hummed some unknown song against your skin. "By the way, did you mention something about food?" you asked suddenly and you both laughed as a very unladylike sound rumbled through your stomach.

"I did," Brock answered between snickers, "but something tells me even if I didn't, my girl needs rations." Then releasing you and walking hand in hand to the kitchen he sat you down at the table and went about preparing a glorious meal. Finally filling you up with wine, pasta and brownies from your favorite bakery, he coaxed you onto the couch with a good book while he began cleaning the kitchen and by the time he was finished you were once again fast asleep and he could begin implementing his plan.

Moving swiftly and stealthily around the house with the skill only someone in his previous profession could master, he packed a bag of essentials for each of you, threw them in the back seat and then lifting you gently, carried you to the car and secured you in place. While he had thought about drugging you to make sure you slept through the drive, he knew you wouldn't appreciate that and so offered up a silent plea that you wouldn't wake until morning. Then setting off into the night, he hoped the next few days would recharge your battery and reignite your dimming light.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Waking up the next morning to a warm body at your back, which had become the norm since Brock Rumlow entered your life, you worried you had actually lost your mind as you opened your eyes to be greeted by a room that wasn't your own. Further cementing your out of body experience, you pulled back the covers to reveal that you were currently wearing your favorite comfy sleepwear when your last conscious memory was falling asleep on the couch after dinner. Looking now between your surroundings and your boyfriend, you quickly realized some major shenanigans were at play and taking a pillow, proceeded to start whacking the sleeping giant beside you.

"Brock? Hey Brock? RUMLOW." you eventually shouted while bringing the pillow down with as much force as you could muster. "What the hell is going on here?" you asked as he opened his eyes and stared up at you.

"Baby, keep it down. It's still early." he whined, reaching out to pull you down gently against his waiting body. Kissing every available inch of skin his lips could find, he carefully and easily rolled over you, removed your shorts as he rested between your legs and proceeded to eat you out twice until you were nothing more than a blissed out mess beneath him. Then leaving the bed to retrieve a cloth, he cleaned you up while you questioned what was to be done with the prominent bulge hidden within his boxers.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that baby. This trip is all about helping you unwind. Now how about we get up, have some breakfast and I can show you around?"

Agreeing half-heartedly as your eyes still lingered on his crotch, he promised he might let you cop a feel at some point. Laughing at his crass choice of language, having just brought you to two of the most pleasurable orgasms you could ever remember experiencing, he helped you out of bed and handed you a duffle bag before reaching for what you could only assume was his own. Pulling open the zipper, you were both surprised but not, when you discovered a few days worth of clothes inside. Taking out some jeans and a t-shirt you dressed in time to see Brock put away his bag and reach out his hand for yours.

Opening up the bedroom door, he explained the bathroom connected to both the bedroom and the living room, while the kitchen made up the rest of the cottage. Allowing you out the front door while he made a start on breakfast, you discovered the cottage called Daisy Grove, was aptly named given that the cottage was indeed surrounded on either end by the most beautiful patches of wild daisies you had ever seen.

Watching the birds flying and nestling in the trees all around you, you took a few tentative steps off the porch along the scrub lined path and relished the sound of twigs and leaves underfoot as nature sang as far as you could hear. Totally engrossed in your own world, you were unaware of a keen set of eyes now following you from the door as Brock watched you slip away into a space that brought joy to your heart and a lightness to your spirit.

Hating to drag you away from the one thing that seemed to bring you peace, you turned back sharply towards the door as Brock called your name. "Breakfast is ready, my love. Perhaps after we've eaten I can introduce you to the treasures awaiting you out the back door. Running carefully back to your man, you threw yourself into his strong arms and all but squealed as he picked you up and carried you inside.

Sitting you at the table as he plated up the food, he tried to eat as best he could as you juggled between eating your own breakfast and firing any question you could think of at him. Enjoying how invested you were in the wonderful property you currently inhabited, you having to take a sip of juice as you nearly choked was enough of a risk for the former soldier. "Baby please, I say this with the utmost respect, but shut up." he laughed as your breathing returned to normal and you playfully stuck out your tongue at him. "I promise I'll answer any more questions you have once we finish eating."

Nodding in agreement, the rest of breakfast was eaten in silence until Brock got up to clear the table and your questions began again. "Where did you find this place? How long are we staying? What is there to do around here?" Oh that last question he answered with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

"What we're going to do here is everything and anything that calms your soul, warms your heart and makes your spirit soar. In short, all the things you've done for me." Smiling now as he took your hand and led you out the back, your eyes widened when you saw the river waiting before you. Though totally unsure about the boat Brock pointed to, you placed your trust in him and was pleasantly surprised when a wonderful, relaxing day was had.

Treating you then to a wonderful dinner, the rest of the evening was spent relaxing in front of an open fire with a sappy romantic comedy before Brock carried your tired form back to bed, where allowing his cock to get reacquainted with your pussy, you once again had a gloriously peaceful sleep.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Facing the world anew at sunrise, the next few days were everything Brock had promised and you couldn't remember when you last felt so well rested. Feeling so carefree at this moment in your life as a result of the routine your wonderful man had set up, waking you up every morning with his mouth attached to your pussy, your days were then spent leisurely walking through the surrounding area, enjoying boating and Brock fishing on the river along with foot rubs, reading or watching various rom coms.

Then once he had you properly fed on spaghetti with wine and brownies or steak with baked potato and chocolate chip cookies after, he would ensure that one way or another your world was rocked before sleep claimed you. You even remembered the fun that was had on your last day when Brock had tried unsuccessfully to get you to eat some of the fish the river had provided.

Telling him in no uncertain terms that you would not eat anything you had watched him kill while in the middle of baking brownies and cookies together, half an hour later as a glorious smell filled the cottage and Brock's solid shaft filled your pussy, you finally discovered the real fun that could be had baking together.

When he finally had you satisfied and removed the delicious treats out of the oven, Brock informed you he was going to do a quick sweep of the property before you left in the morning. Snuggling into the couch with a good book, that was exactly where Brock found you an hour later when he finally returned to the cottage. "Hey baby, you still where I left you?" Brock called out as he closed the door behind him.

Looking into the living room before you had a chance to answer, he was indeed rewarded with you stretched on the couch bathed in the glow of the firelight. Swearing that he had never in his life seen anything so heavenly, he sauntered into your presence with a sly smirk on his face and his hands hidden behind his back. "Hey Brock, you were gone quite a bit. Is everything alright?"

"Everything's perfect baby. Everything's tied up or put away as it should be, I just had to pick up something for you," and he couldn't hide the grin that graced his features as you suddenly sat up eager to see what he had for you. "Now keep in mind it's nothing fancy, but it made me smile and think of you." he continued and with that he produced a beautifully woven circle of daisies.

Looking at him as he sat down beside you and placed it over your head, your eyes then fell on the flowers before speaking. "It's beautiful Brock, but what is it?"

"It's a daisy chain baby. Stronger than shackles and chains, it ties you to me forever. Just like mine ties me to you," and with that he removed the t-shirt to reveal the chest you just now realized he had strategically kept covered since before this trip began. The reason for this soon seared itself into your memory, when there above his heart was a tattoo of the same daisy chain you now wore, but in its center nestled your name. Trailing his lips along your neck as they made their way towards your ear, his next words brought you to tears. “Forgive my lips.” he whispered between pecks. “They find joy . . . in the most unusual places.”

"Oh my god Brock, you are such a dork." you sniffled as you reached out and ran our fingers over the ink. Kissing your lips passionately once again before resting his forehead against yours, he knew he would do whatever he had to to maintain the light once more shining in your eyes.

Still watching you play with the daisies, he quickly answered your playful statement before laying you down on the rug beside the fire. "We both know I may be a dork my love, but I'm only your dork." he said, as he then proceeded to spend the night pulling you apart multiple times on his mouth, fingers and cock. Thoroughly fucked and covered in sweat, cum and various parts of each other's bodies you closed your eyes and drifted off towards the approaching morning.

Rising before you once again, Brock set about loading everything back into the car before walking into the living room to wake you up. Helping you from the rug and guiding you into the bathroom, a gloriously hot shower and Brock's skillful hands worked out all the knots sleeping on the floor had given you before breakfast filled the void in your stomach. Then reluctantly driving away from your little retreat knowing he had to take you home so could face what lay ahead, he drew comfort from the fact that for the past few days you had once again been his beautiful north star, burning bright with the energy needed to conquer whatever your illness and life threw at you.

Tagging: @saiyanprincessswanie

#soft!brock rumlow x reader

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headcanonsandmore · 3 years

Text

“Stress Relief”

Summary: Ron and Hermione have some fun with each-other on Valentine’s Day.

Tagging: @princesserica84

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning: The following fic contains scenes of an s*xual nature and is not ace safe.

Hermione awoke gradually, in that way she always did on mornings when she didn’t have to work. Weak February sunlight was reaching into the room.

The bushy-haired witch sat up dimly in bed, rubbing her eyes.

Rose and Hugo were both over at the Burrow for a few days, on Ron’s suggestion. The kids had been excited to spend time with their grandparents, and Hermione had certainly not objected to spending several days alone with Ron, even if she did miss her kids.

Speaking of which… where was Ron?

Sliding her legs over the side of their large king-size bed (Ron had loved the pun), Hermione could distantly hear the sounds of plates being loaded up downstairs, and then the gradual creak of the carpet on the staircase.

‘Hey, sleepy head.’

Ron looked, as ever, utterly gorgeous. His red hair was tousled from sleep and… other things they’d gotten up to last night.

Hermione smiled, both at her husband and at the memory.

‘Morning, handsome,’ she said, as Ron walked into the room, carrying a tray laden down with breakfast food. ‘Not like you to leave me alone in bed.’

‘Wanted to get breakfast sorted,’ Ron said, his ears flushing a little at her flirtatious tone. ‘If I’d woken you up, we would have never gotten out of bed.’

‘True,’ Hermione giggled, propping their pillows up against the headboard. ‘But what’s the occasion?’

‘Fourteenth of February,’ Ron said, sitting down next to her. ‘Don’t tell me you forgot it was Valentine’s Day? After everything we got up to last night?’

Hermione pressed a kiss to his cheek.

‘Forgive me, love,’ she purred. ‘I guess my brain got disengaged from getting so thoroughly ravished.’

Ron’s adams apple bobbed in his throat.

‘Hermione,’ he whispered. ‘I thought you’d be hungry for food, not for me.’

‘What can I say?’ she giggled, feeling his pyjama bottoms begin to swell. ‘I like to switch things up occasionally. How about you? Hungry for me?’

As if in response, the breakfast tray was banished to the floor nearby. Ron’s wandless magic tended to react to strong emotions.

Hermione squealed happily as Ron flipped her onto her back on the mattress, before pressing his lips to hers.

‘You know it, Mrs Granger-Weasley.’

The look in his eyes was so warm and caring that Hermione tangled her hands in his hair, pressing herself against him. With a knowing chuckle, she felt Ron throb against her.

Pulling away, Ron scrambled backwards, and grabbed the bottom of Hermione’s nightdress.

‘Now, let’s get this pesky thing out of the way…’

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut as Ron pulled her nightdress up to her midriff, his hands sinking into the soft flush of her thighs. Ron seemed to have rather liked the changes her body had gone through after having two kids. He said she was… what was it… curvy for days?

Not that she was complaining. He certainly wasn’t. As he was making very clear with what he was currently doing. Mmmm…

‘Oh… god…’

Chuckling to himself, Ron fingers began to trace patterns along her skin, as his mouth began pressing kisses to her lower stomach. Hermione felt her chest begin to heave, the lacy pattern of her night attire clinging to the perspiration that was now covering her skin. Merlin, she loved the way Ron could send her into blissful oblivion with such expert handling. He really seemed to know her body so well. Which made sense, after almost a decade of marriage.

‘R-Ron…’ she gasped, her voice breathy. ‘Y-yes… ohhh….’

‘Hermione…’

With a husky growl, Ron pulled her knickers down her legs. She heard the sound of the material being dropped off the bed.

Hermione squealed again, as Ron’s tongue began to explore, sending delicate shivers up her spine as one of his hands drifted up her torso.

‘R-Ron… wait, let me…’

Sitting up slightly, Hermione hurriedly pulled her nightdress over her head, and threw it aside. Now completely naked, she fell back down on the mattress. Her eyes flipped over, to see Ron throwing his pyjama bottoms aside. He towered over her, his eyes glittering with passion.

‘Merlin, you drive me wild, Hermione…’

Her chest heaving, Hermione spread her legs.

‘Now, Ron… hurry!’

Ron surged forward, and Hermione gave a gasp as she felt herself be filled. Her legs curled around Ron’s back, as she pressed herself closer to him. Fuck. This was something that never got old, no matter how much time passed. He loved her, and she him. After almost ten years of being married, and over five years of dating before that, they really did know each other inside-and-out. Which made moments like this especially brilliant. Ron knew exactly which spots to hit, and she knew what got him going too.

Fuck, she loved him.

‘Oh… Ron… fuck…. god…’

‘Hermione…’ Ron moaned, one hand sinking into the flesh of her arse. ‘Yeah…. fuck….’

Their lips pressed together, as one of Hermione’s hands became entangled in his beautiful red hair, the other clawing into his back in an effort to get even closer to him physically.

Hermione felt the fire of passion burning through every molecule of her being. God, this was amazing! Fucking amazing!

‘Ron… y-yes… keep… keep going…’

‘Y-you almost there?’

‘Y-yes… almost…’

‘M-me too… oh, fuck… ‘Mione…’

Ron gave one last thrust, before he exploded inside. Hermione gave a deep moan as her own orgasm erupted through her, her legs clamping tightly around Ron as he continued to buck against her.

Slowly, their breathing eased, and Ron pressed a kiss to her forehead.

‘Damn…’ he breathed, wrapping his arms around her waist. ‘We’re getting better at this, aren’t we?’

‘Definitely,’ Hermione gasped, relaxing against him. ‘Must be not having to worry about the kids knocking on the door halfway through.’

Ron chuckled, easing himself out of her, and sitting up against the headboard. Picking up his wand from the bedside table, he summoned the breakfast tray from the floor. Hermione sat up next to him and took a plate that he passed along to her.

‘Well, I thought that was rather a nice way to wake up,’ Hermione said, snuggling into his side as she began to chew on her slice of toast. ‘Very good stress-reliever.’

‘Definitely,’ Ron said, putting an arm around her and not-so-subtly cupping one of her breasts.

‘You are a tease,’ she giggled, enjoying the feeling of his expert hand against her areola. ‘Anyone would think you were trying to keep me shagged out all day.’

‘Says the person who seduced me after I made them breakfast,’ he retorted. ‘Besides, we’ve got all day to ourselves. After we’re fed and watered, how about we enjoy some more stress relief?’

‘I’m not sure…’ Hermione said, slowly, as she chewed. ‘I mean… we did get rather sweaty…’

‘We have a magically-extended bath,’ Ron said, knowingly. ‘And we do have that sudsy stuff we got each-other for Christmas...’

Hermione giggled, as Ron warmed her coffee cup with his wand and handed it to her. Stress relief was definitely a good thing. Especially on Valentine’s Day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Valentines Day, everyone; thanks for reading! Hope you liked this little fic!

#harry potter fanfiction #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #tw: sex #not ace safe #lemon #tw: kink #saucy #warning- strong language #romione #ronmione #tw: food mention #tw: allusions to sex #tw: s*x #tw: sm*t #tw: smut

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sunsetcurveofficial · 3 years

Note

idk if i should ask through here??? but for the prompts you were taking: i thought 10 with merthur?? and 13 with reggie/luke ;))) love your work <3<3<3

thank you for sending them in!! i did peterpatter first, and i’ll do the merthur one in a separate post.

i think this is the first time i ever used present tense in a fic, since this is all about enhancing my writing horizon. was interesting. also idk what this is. it developed a life of its own.

13. “Don’t be sorry… it was kind of cute, actually.”

______

Here’s the thing. Luke Patterson isn’t the tidiest person, exactly. His room tends to be messy, his things tend to be scattered all around the studio, and he can never find the shirt he’s looking for. Sometimes he wakes up in a Nirvana mood and all he can find are Green Day shirts. Sometimes he puts his journal down somewhere, because he has to grab a guitar before the riff in his head leaves him again. And then he forgets where he put it and searches for hours until Reggie, Alex, or Bobby hand it to him as if it was right there all along.

It’s just that he gets so into his music that he forgets things sometimes. He also forgets time a lot and then he doesn’t have any left to clean or bring organise his stuff. It drives his Mom rather mad, but Luke can’t help it. He tries, really, but two days later his room always seems to be back to its original state of chaos.

So imagine his surprise when he gets home after practice one night and finds his room all tidy and clean with small notes pinned to random objects, commenting things like ‘Do you really need this, Luke?’ or just ‘Hahaha.’ or ‘Omg, you kept this.’ in what he identifies as Reggie’s handwriting. He’s read enough of his country songs to know. Smiling, he picks up a stuffed bear Reggie once won for him at a fair they went to together when Alex and Bobby were both busy with their own families. Reggie pinned a note to it, saying ‘Nice to see you keeping the tokens of my affection.’

He hugs the bear close to his chest and keeps looking around his room for more of Reggie’s inane commentary. He finds dozens of notes, and decides to keep them where they are. They make something flutter beneath his ribcage, and fill him with warmth and a sense of comfort he only knows from playing his music. He’s not sure how he feels about Reggie coming to his house when he’s not there and rummaging through his things, but at the same time he knows there aren’t any secrets he’s keeping from him anyway, and Reggie knew about his latest fight with his mother. It was pretty bad, so Luke spent the night at the studio where his friend found him in the morning. So, Reggie knew he struggles with keeping his room clean again, causing him to fight with Emily and feel miserable about it, and he decided to help, apparently.

“I’m sorry for not asking first,” Reggie says suddenly, and Luke spins around to find him standing in the doorway, smiling a little sheepishly. “Your mom let me in,” he answers Luke’s unasked question.

“Don’t be sorry,” Luke says softly, gesturing around his room. “This… it was kind of cute, actually.”

Reggie leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms in front of his chest as he raises a suggestive eyebrow and smiles so brightly, Luke feels himself physically react to the sight.

“Aw, you think I’m cute, do you?”

Luke snorts.

“Yeah, man. The cutest.” He’s not lying. Reggie is… the best friend in the world, but he’s also beautiful, and funny, and Luke loves him so much, really.

Oh. Well, okay. That’s a new thought.

Luke hums curiously as he turns away from Reggie to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. He spots another note at the foot of his bed. ‘Remember when we used to pretend your bed is a stage and performed really bad versions of Queen songs on your first guitar?’

Luke does remember. And he feels warm all over again. Oh. So, Reggie? It’s Reggie for him? The decision is quickly made. Luke has always been an impulsive person, and if he wants something, he goes for it. Apparently he wants Reggie now.

He’s about to turn around when he feels Reggie wrap his arms around his waist from behind and rest his chin on Luke’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to hide your pretty blush, you know?” Reggie says, voice lower than usual. Luke feels it right down to his bones.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty, do you?” Luke says, matching Reggie’s tone from before and grinning as he turns his head. It’s an awkward angle, but they’re so close, their noses almost touching, and Luke suddenly has trouble breathing.

“Yeah, man. The prettiest,” Reggie replies, imitating Luke from before, but sounding no less sincere.

Luke hums again.

“This is new. I have to admit I did not see this one coming,” he says softly, curiously glancing at Reggie’s lips. “You and I?”

Reggie leans a little closer, and his lips are ghosting over Luke’s, almost touching, but not quite yet.

“Neither did I. But I had an epiphany while cleaning your room and finding all these memories of us,” Reggie says, his voice barely more than a whisper. He chuckles. “Well, there goes my heterosexuality.”

And then he kisses Luke, and Luke drops the bear he was still holding to turn in his arms and kiss him back, arms coming around his neck to keep him close.

“That’s overrated anyway,” he comments in between kisses, just before they fall onto Luke’s bed together. The very same one they used to play rockstars on when they were 11.

Later that night, Luke finds more notes as he happily sings ABBA songs to himself. ‘Hello pretty boy. What’s up?’ is written on a small yellow note on the corner of his mirror. On his CD copy of The Other Side of the Mirror by Stevie Nicks, Reggie left a note saying ‘I hope I get to kiss you one day just for owning this. Not sure if I mean that platonically… We should probably talk. I hope you don’t find this before I get a chance to talk to you. If you do… well. Surprise? Reggie is having a sexuality crisis and it’s all your fault.’

And when he picks out a fresh shirt from his closet, a note falls out informing him that Luke’s lack of sleeves on most of his shirts played a significant role in Reggie’s crisis about his sexuality.

“You dork,” he mumbles to himself, putting on a Fleetwood Mac shirt for good measure and singing Super Trouper as he dances down the stairs to help his mother with dinner.

“Aren’t you chipper today?” Emily says with a smile when she spots him. “I think Reggie was humming Dancing Queen when he left earlier. May I ask what put you two into such a delightful mood?”

Luke beams at her, shrugging as he does a pirouette.

“I think we’re in love, Mom,” he tells her honestly. He figures there is no need to lie to her, and he’s feeling way too happy to keep it to himself. Emily only looks a little surprised.

“With each other?” she asks.

Luke nods. “Yeah.”

Emily smiles and reaches out to squeeze Luke’s arm.

“Well, that’s lovely. He’s a fine young man, I’ve always thought so.”

Luke hugs her, just because he can and he doesn’t know why they fight so much when they also frequently have moments like this, when he feels so blessed to have her.

The next day, when Luke walks into the studio and finds his friends already gathered and ready with their instruments, he feels all warm and fluttery again as soon as he spots Reggie, so he walks right over to him and kisses him right on the mouth.

Bobby hoots, Alex claps, and Reggie is eager to kiss back.

“Sorry,” Luke murmurs against his lips.

“Luke?” Reggie says as he pulls back. “If you ever apologise for kissing me again, I’m gonna write a hundred country songs about you, and I will get famous with them, and you’ll forever be known as that weird queer country dude’s boyfriend.”

Luke laughs and raises his hands in surrender.

“What a horrible fate. Alright, no apologies from now on.”

He kisses Reggie again, and this time he doesn’t say sorry. He’s not actually sorry, anyway.

#peterpatter #ruke #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #prompts #my fic #my writing #jatp #Anonymous

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Tales from the Edge: Mail Run

First Edge Institute short story! I hope you like it. :D

“Where are you going?” Deer asked, looking up from her soup to glare at Johannsson with suspicion.

“Mail just came in,” said Johannsson, gesturing at the mail light. The Institute’s driveway was long, and the mailbox was at the very end of it, so, to prevent extraneous trips, they had a sensor in it that sent a signal when the mailbox was full. It was a recent addition. “I’m going to go get it.”

“No, you’re not,” said Deer.

“What? Why?”

“Johannsson, when was the mail light put in? I can tell you right now that it wasn’t forty years ago.”

“I’m not going to touch the sensor!” protested Johannsson.

“Don’t want to risk it. Besides, this is why we have interns.”

Zoe, on the other side of the break room, looked up with an expression of betrayal on her face. “What?”

“Mail,” said Deer. “Go get it.”

“I work for Research.”

“You’re an intern. You work for everyone. Besides, half of our mail is for research in the first place.”

Zoe scowled and spitefully shoved the rest of her sandwich into her mouth. “Fine,” she said, spraying crumbs. “I will. But if I get kidnapped on the way there, it’s your fault.”

“You’re just walking down the driveway,” said Deer. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Your fault,” repeated Zoe, stabbing a finger at Deer as she walked through the door.

A few seconds later, she was back. She strode across the room to steal a loaf of bread and left again.

“What was that about?” asked Deer.

“I think bread is supposed to help against fairies,” said Johannsson.

“Really? Why don’t we use that?”

“Some fairies,” amended Johannsson.

“That makes sense,” said Deer.

It was a beautiful day. Really.

Unfortunately, kidnappings tended to happen on beautiful days. Zoe squared her shoulders before stepping from the nice, air-conditioned lobby into the scorching outdoor heat. She sighed and trudged out into the parking lot.

Her palms sweated where they touched the plastic bread bag, and she kept switching it back and forth between her hands in an attempt to make it less uncomfortable to hold. There was a breeze, but it was only barely strong enough to make the wheat planted on either side of the driveway rustle and whisper.

Stupid grass. Stupid internship.

She reached the mailbox and groaned as she saw the package shoved in it. Packages were supposed to be driven all the way up to the front door. Especially packages that didn’t fit completely in the mailbox. What if it had started raining?

The sun beat down on her, indicating exactly how likely that was.

Okay, so this was more about the inconvenience to her, personally, than anything else. If Johannsson had come back complaining about having to carry one measly package, she’d have teased him. A lot.

With some effort, she yanked the box free and frowned at the places the cardboard had been pinched and warped by being squeezed into the mailbox. Hopefully, there wasn’t anything fragile inside.

The box was heavier than expected.

She shifted the mail, bread, and box around in her hands, trying to find a comfortable way to hold the items, before giving up. The driveway wasn’t that long.

About halfway back, she adjusted the box in her hands. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that it was getting heavier. Maybe she should start weight training again. But it took so long. Ugh.

Speaking of long… She looked over her shoulder, back at the mailbox. The unpleasant heat really was drawing this out, wasn’t it?

Yeah. No. This had gone on for too long. She broke into an awkward jog, her eyes staying steady on the front of the building.

It wasn’t getting closer. She stopped and pulled out her phone. No service. Not even wifi. Typical. She turned around and walked back to the mailbox.

At least, she tried to go back to the mailbox. It wasn’t getting any closer, either. So much for messing with the mailbox sensor to send an SOS.

The box was heavy.

Okay. She wanted words with whoever had gotten the obviously cursed thing sent through their regular mail. That had to be against Institute regulations.

She knelt, settling the box on her lap. She could open the box, but direct contact tended to be contraindicated in the case of most cursed things. So. Time to try to figure out what it could be and how to get rid of it.

Yay.

Well. She did work for the Research Department.

Something that grew heavier the more you carried it… The only thing that came to mind were the false children of the ubume, a Japanese yokai. But those usually looked like children until you stopped, and, to the best of her knowledge, they didn’t have any space-warping properties.

Going at this from the other data point… Ugh. Too many things warped space. She didn’t even know where to start.

Good thing she wasn’t planning on putting this on her resume.

Question: Would it be safe to just yeet the thing into the wheat?

She made a face. It would probably be better to avoid the yeeting for now. She didn’t want to lose the thing, in case she had to kick the hell out of it or something to get it to stop trapping her. Chucking it as far away from herself as possible would come later. She put it down on the side of the driveway, where some weeds were starting to come up. Hopefully, this wouldn’t turn out to be one of those cursed objects that punish the victim for trying to get rid of them.

She walked away, towards the Institute.

Ten minutes later, she almost walked by the package. She groaned and glared at the offending object. Great.

Another option she had was just waiting until someone sent out search parties, but she might be in a pocket dimension or something stupid like that. There were too many incidents out there where a person disappeared, only to reappear in their last known location but dead from exposure.

Andi, her parent, could probably find her despite that. They always managed to find her in faerie, which was… Not anything like a pocket dimension, once she got down to particulars, but still. On the other hand, Andi would definitely give her grief for getting stuck in a pocket dimension on a mail run.

No, wait, there were other things she could do first. Like walking into the wheat.

Stupid grass was going to poke her so much. She’d probably wind up with half a ton of seeds in her socks.

This whole thing was so inconvenient. She could be doing so many more useful things.

She renewed her promise to have a discussion with whoever had put this stupid thing in with the regular mail. She turned ninety degrees and stepped off the road.

Ten minutes of walking through grass later, she stepped back onto the driveway. Honestly, she hadn’t expected that to work. Whatever.

Time to peel this baby.

… She was actively cursed. If she wanted to make fun of the unboxing event from hell, she very well could.

She knelt again, asphalt hot under her knees. She brushed away a bit of gravel that pressed against her skin.

Why was there so much tape on this?

Some old person packaged this. She just knew.

Finally, she tore the cardboard open to reveal—

Newspaper.

She rolled her eyes and pulled it back aaaaaaand okiedokie. That was creepy. That was a freaking stone baby. A… What was it called? A lithopedion. Calcified unborn fetus.

Totally haunted. Yep. A ghost this close would normally set off the alarms in the Detection Department, but they missed things, sometimes. Like the Great Fae that kidnapped her last month.

Provisionally, she decided to blame Mark, the Institute’s ghost expert and a member of the Containment Department, for this.

“I’m not your mom,” she said, hoping that would settle this. “Or your dad. I’m not old enough. Well—” she rolled her eyes “—technically, physically I’m old enough, but I’m not, like. Emotionally ready for a kid. Or to die trapped in the driveway at the place I work on a mail run. I mean, really. That would be a sucky way to go. I mean, I’ve been in sword duels with faeries.”

She stood up.

“Let’s try this again.”

Ten minutes later she saw the creepy stone baby on the ground in front of her. Stubborn thing.

“Like, I’m more than willing to stomp the hell out of you if you don’t uncurse me,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

That wasn’t one hundred percent true. If this was a ghost, breaking its vessel might break its power, or it might free it. Ghosts tended not to know that, though.

“One more try,” she said.

Ten minutes later, she was in exactly the same place as she was before.

Time for stomping. She raised her foot.

A fairy dove out of the grass to fight her. He had a sword. She smacked him with the loaf of bread, which did nothing, and glared with disgust at the stone baby. It was just delaying. This whole thing was an illusion. Stupid illusion rock baby thing. She’d probably break it and find out that she’d bypassed the Institute entirely and was standing in a stupid field somewhere. Or maybe she’d been going in a loop, considering that she was still near the thing.

The fight with the ‘fairy’ turned into rolling on the ground and hair pulling. This was by design. Eventually she got within grabbing distance of the stone baby, grabbed it, and brained the ‘fairy’ with it. Then she slammed it on the ground. It splintered, shards cutting into her hand.

The ‘fairy’ vanished.

Zoe took a deep breath. Cool. That was over then. Yay.

Now she’d—

Oh, no.

The mail.

Deer looked up from her desk as the door opened, saw it was Zoe, and looked back at her email before doing a double-take.

“What happened to you?” she asked, standing. “Are you okay?”

Zoe raised a single finger. “I want to know,” she said, “who is sending cursed stone babies through the regular mail.” She dumped a bunch of rock on Deer’s desk.

For several long moments, Deer stared at it. “We’re going to need another session on our shipping policy for hazardous objects.”

“You think?”

#edge institute #tales from the edge #original fiction #my fiction

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 4 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

July twelfth dawns like any other day, Annabeth wrapped up in Percy’s sheets. She’s spent significantly more nights in his bed than she’s spent in her own apartment over the last two months, but who could blame her? This bed is literally to die for. Therapeutic mattress for the fucking win.

Percy, to her greatest confusion and chagrin, is a morning person. Well, actually, what he is is someone who runs on very little sleep for three weeks at a time, before crashing headfirst into his bed for thirteen hours. It is a decidedly unhealthy way to live, but it means that Annabeth is used to waking up alone. The nights where she gets to wake up with Percy are the nicer ones, sure, but his presence is suffused in every corner of the room, his smell wafting from every piece of sweaty clothing tossed haphazardly about the floor, so much so that she never feels like she is truly waking up alone.

Gross? A little. But the smell is oddly sexy, too, especially after he’s just come home from a run, all wet and glistening and flushed, panting hard--

Ahem.

The point is, when Annabeth rolls out of bed in one of Percy’s shirts (the one that says “Do You Even Lift, Bro?” with an image of a male dancer raising his partner, courtesy of one Jason Grace) and stumbles into the kitchen for one of Percy’s patented brunch specials, it’s a pretty normal morning. What catches her off guard is the spread: eggs and bacon, obviously, with fruit and granola and yogurt, but also an enormous tray of delicious, flaky croissants, perfectly crescent shaped, with little bowls of every condiment imaginable, multiple flavors of jams and preserves and Nutellas.

“Bounjour, mademoiselle!” Percy says cheerfully from the oven, perfectly accented, bending over to take out a tray. “Ça va bien?”

“Um… bonjour…” She pokes a croissant experimentally, and is equally delighted and dismayed to find that it is just as flaky as advertised.

“Take a seat, these ones just need to cool for a bit and then we can get started.”

Spring in his step, he opens the refrigerator, taking out the most beautiful cake Annabeth has ever seen in her entire life. Perfectly round, paper white, with little blue borders piped around the edge, but it’s got Annabeth feeling like she’s just been doused in cold water. “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?”

Immediately, she knows it was the exact wrong thing to say. His eyes go wide as the saucers on the table, mouth open in shock. “It’s your birthday?”

Goddammit. “Um.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because birthdays were inherently a dumb concept? Because her father had to be reminded of her birthday more often than not? Because her mother had stopped sending her birthday cards after she turned thirteen, calling them a waste of money and resources? “I don’t know,” she shrugs, dipping her finger into the strawberry jam. “I guess I just didn’t think it was a big deal. Ooh, does this have rosemary in it?”

“Annabeeeeth,” he whines, plopping the cake onto the kitchen island. “I can’t believe you! I love birthdays.”

“Well,” she flounders, attempting to duck his sudden attention, “what were you originally celebrating? I don’t usually think of cake as a brunch option.”

He raises an eyebrow, not at all impressed with her attempts to change the topic, but he answers dutifully, “Originally, we were celebrating me being one month cig-free--”

“Percy!” Annabeth gasps, clapping her hands delightedly, and a little exaggeratedly. “That’s great!”

“But,” he continues, “now we’re definitely celebrating your birthday instead.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Nuh uh,” he chides, grabbing his phone and beginning to type something, “I am asking Nico to pick you up a birthday card as we speak.”

Oh. “Nico’s coming?”

“Well, this is his apartment. Part of the deal is that I make him breakfast. I think he’s bringing his boyfriend.”

“Is… anyone else coming?”

“Just a couple of people, my friends Frank, Grover, Rachel… I invited Hazel and Thalia, too, but I think Hazel told me she was busy, and you know Thalia. If it’s not at a crappy dive bar then the odds of her showing up are virtually none.” Percy pauses in his text, fixing her with an odd look. “You really don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

How easily he reads her is a little disconcerting, and also a thought that she just can’t handle right now. “I just don’t like people making a big deal out of it. You know, it’s just another day. I’d much rather celebrate you quitting.”

He holds her gaze for a beat, before smiling, finishing typing out whatever he was doing on his phone. “Yes, I am officially quitting. Cigarettes are terrible for you, and I do not have the money to keep up the habit. So, I swear,” he holds up a hand, “No cigarettes, no weed, no vaping. Not that I ever vaped before.”

“Oh, never?” Annabeth teases.

“Not ever.” He leans in, grinning that devastating grin that is seriously detrimental to her health. “You could not pay me enough.”

“Good.” She goes to meet him, pressing her mouth to his, sweetly and chastely, but swiftly turning deeper, almost against their higher brain functions, like they only exist to be here in this moment, lips against lips, tongue and tongue. She’s always hated the taste of cigarettes, she prefers edibles to blunts, and anyone who vapes is automatically dropped from her list of potential partners… but she’s never minded the taste of ash on Percy’s tongue. It was just another part of him, another facet of the whole sexy package.

Now, though, she has the full taste of him, unfettered and unfiltered, his morning coffee and his morning breath. It is disgusting, but again, oddly thrilling. This is Percy, stripped down and divested of all the trappings of blue lipstick and tight pants. She wonders what he thinks when he sees her like this, messy haired, face and ears empty of metal, last night’s mascara smudged all around her eyes. Given the way that he deliberately threads her hair through his fingers, winding the frizzy curls around him, pulling her close enough that the pristine cake is in danger from some serious smushing, she thinks he likes it just as much.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on which perspective, either Percy’s, Annabeth’s, Nico’s, or the cake’s, their little impromptu makeout session has cold water dumped on it before they can end up doing it on the kitchen island. The sound of someone unlocking the front door is almost comically loud, and they break apart, equally red and flushing.

“Gross,” says Nico di Angelo. “No heterosexuality allowed in my kitchen.”

“Take that back, you biphobic ass,” Percy says. “I have never been heterosexual in my life.”

“I’m not biphobic, I just don’t want to see you getting it on on my marble countertops.”

“Speak for yourself,” chimes in Will, setting down a grocery bag right on the spot which would have been ground zero. “Hi, Annabeth.”

“Hey, Will.”

“Nice of you to join us today,” he says, as though he doesn’t see her here all the time.

She offers her assistance in cooking or setting up, knowing full well that she will be firmly rebuffed--domestics are not her strong suit, by any stretch of the imagination--and is sent away with an iced coffee that Will has so thoughtfully bought for her instead of the birthday card she was dreading.

Soon after, the party is in full swing.

Well, she uses the term party loosely. It is fairly intimate, even with Nico’s enormous apartment making everything smaller. They have assembled an odd amalgamation of people: “You already know Nico,” Percy says, indicating the goth prince next to, “and Will,” his boyfriend, the perpetually cheery med student, next to, “and this is Frank,” a large, physically imposing man with a shy smile, next to, “Rachel,” a red-headed girl who looked like she just walked out of a paint shower, all making space for, “and my buddy Grover,” the guy in crutches who had immediately dropped into the single, out-of-decor, but extremely comfortable-looking loveseat Nico had placed nearest to the bathroom. All told, they look like the brochure for a community college who really, really wants to publicize how diverse their student body is, but with a kind of natural chemistry and camaraderie that those kids on that brochure could only dream of. “Everyone, this is Annabeth.”

They greet her, each giving a limp wave.

Then Percy leaves to attend to his brunch spread, but not before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She can feel all eyes on them, hot and burning.

Silence.

“So,” Annabeth says, as awkward as a freshman in an orientation mixer. “What’s up?”

“Your hair is amazing,” says Rachel.

Hers is crusted with paint, a deep red that turns pink against the orange in the light, a close cousin to Annabeth’s, which is in dire need of a touchup, curls thrown in disarray by Percy’s grasping fingers. “Thanks, I--”

“So how do you two know each other?”

Annabeth blinks. “Friend of Thalia’s,” she says. “You?”

“Used to do ballet together,” Rachel says, brusque, efficient. “Frank, too.”

Frank waves again.

A beat passes.

Annabeth looks to Grover, who watches, bemused. “You, too, I take it?”

Another second. Then he laughs, weird, but hearty, a joyful bleat. “Oh, sure,” he says. “I’m a regular Baryshnikov.”

She can almost feel the room relaxing, heaving a sigh after holding its breath.

“Are you with NYCB, too?” she turns to Frank, shoving her hands in her pockets, fingers curling around the fabric there.

Shaking his head, he swallows his orange juice. “I mostly do modern and hip hop, now, music videos and stuff.”

Objectively, she knows that you don’t have to be skinny as a rake or bodybuilding champion to dance, but Frank is neither of these, a huge, sweet-faced guy with a healthy layer of fat around his face and torso--a strict counterpart to Percy, who could give the Belvedere Apollo a run for its money. “Have I seen you in anything?” Not that she really watches music videos, but she figures it’s the polite thing to ask.

“Um, maybe,” he shrugs, embarrassed. “I’ve been lucky enough to work with some really big people.” Though he offers no further details.

“Working on anything cool?” She asks, doing her best not to cajole.

He nods. “Percy and I have a thing coming out probably in the next month or so, with--ah, well. Can’t say.”

“Tease,” Rachel grumbles, tossing back her mimosa. “I’ve been trying to get the secret out of him for months.”

Frank smiles, secretive and a little smug. “Sorry. You’ll find out along with everyone else.”

“Do you work together a lot?” Annabeth asks. She had thought that Percy was strictly ballet--though, she supposes dancers do crossover work more often these days, if only for the money.

“Not as much as we used to, sadly,” he replies. “We actually lived together in Paris for a few years while he was contracted with the opera before I decided to come back home. Vancouver,” he adds at her unspoken question.

“Bit of a hike, from Vancouver to New York,” says Grover.

Frank shrugs. “I was in town anyway, and I haven’t seen Percy in about a year.”

Annabeth frowns, doing some mental math. If Frank hadn’t seen him in two years, then that meant… that Percy had been alone in Paris all that time. The man thrives off of friendship and social interaction; no wonder he was jonesing to come back to America.

“Remind me again how long you two were together?” Rachel asks, red hair bouncing as she cocks her head. A jolt goes down Annabeth’s spine, appraising Frank in an entirely new light.

“On and off for about two years,” says Frank, thoughtful. “But I just lived with him to save money. The rent in Paris sucks.”

“And you were the best roommate I ever had,” Percy says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Clean, good cook, better kisser--”

Frank shoves him away.

“You’ve only ever had one other roommate, other than Nico or your mom,” Grover points out. “That one guy when you first moved overseas--Frodo? Fedora?”

“Fyodor,” Percy corrects. “He was terrible. I didn’t know any Russian, he didn’t know any English, and our French wasn’t good enough to actually hash it out, so he just gave me a permanent cold shoulder.”

“Kind of a low bar, don’t you think?”

“And there was my roommate in Boston.”

Sharply, she turns her head. “You lived in Boston?”

“Yeah, for like a year. I told you I was with Boston Ballet for a little bit, didn’t I?”

Pretty sure he didn’t. She almost opens her mouth to retort, to ask when and compare notes, to mention that she lived in Boston, too, before remembering who she is with, swallowing her words.

“Fyodor hated you,” Frank hums, reentering the circle. He’d wandered away and returned with a croissant, dipped in chocolate.

“Trust, me, the feeling was mutual.”

“It must have been,” Frank says, “because I saw your new apartment after he kicked you out--that place made a shoebox look luxurious.”

Something in Percy’s face almost falls when Frank says that. Annabeth is sure there is a story there.

But Rachel laughs. “Annabeth, you have no idea. It was a Chambre de bonne ,” she says, exaggerating the accent, “which might sound super fancy and French and cool, but trust me, it wasn’t at all. It was this size.” She slaps the kitchen island, a little too hard, her third mimosa making her loose-limbed and loud. “When I visited for Thanksgiving that year I had to pay for the heating bill, because Percy basically refused.”

“It was cozy,” Percy mutters, suddenly very preoccupied with the half a croissant on his plate.

“It was not.” Rachel says. “It was sad and cold and small.”

Nico looks interested, but not nearly as boisterous as Rachel or Frank, “Was that the place…”

“Ye,” Percy cuts him off, “Yes it was.” He smiles, Stepford-strained. “But, then Frank came to town, and so did his grandmother’s money.” He slaps Frank on the back. “And I got a bathtub.”

“I still can’t believe that a ballet dancer lived anywhere for two years without a place to soak,” Frank says, shuddering.

“I can’t believe you waited until Frank got to Paris to get yourself a sugar daddy,” Grover quips. Percy throws a grape at him. Grover, to her immense surprise, manages to catch it in his mouth.

Annabeth can’t really be impressed. This is the second time someone has brought up Percy and Frank having a history. Something hot and angry curls in her stomach. But Percy is laughing.

Rachel laughs too. “Oh, he didn’t wait,” she says. “He had a bevy of sugar mommies for trips to Ibiza and Moscow and Beijing.”

“It was Tokyo,” Percy says, “and they weren’t my Sugar Mamas.” He turns to Annabeth, sheepish, but not actually shameful. “They weren’t. Honestly.”

“Uh huh.”

“They were mostly Kym’s friends, and sometimes we’d go out when they were in town, and if we had fun, they’d invite me wherever they were going next. And if I didn’t have to work, I’d go with.”

“I have heard rumors,” Will says, popping his head in, Nico attached to his hip, “of Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous of Europe. Is it true?”

“Yes,” Grover and Rachel say at once.

“Do you want to hear about that, Will?” Percy asks, “Or would you rather hear about the summer Nico came to stay with me and Frank before he started college, and slept with every single dancer in Europe except Frank?”

Nico waves him off. “Only because you were already sleeping with him, cause he was your sugar daddy. Not like I needed the money.”

“It wasn’t like that.” Frank says.

“And now that we’ve aired all of my dirty laundry,” says Percy, “I need to borrow Annabeth for a second.” Gently, but with force, he tugs her arm, his other hand around her waist, directing her where to go like she’s one of his dance partners. Usually, she minds--a lot. She’s not about to let anyone, let alone a man, tell her where to go--but, you know, it’s Percy. Alone time with him is never a bad thing.

He pulls her into the hallway, shoving his hand into his pocket. “What’s up?” she asks.

“So.” Mouth open, he pauses for a moment, just… looking at her. His eyes are soft, warm like the first day of spring.

“What?”

“Uh, nothing,” he shakes himself a little, pulling his hand out. “Sorry, I just--I know you said you didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of your birthday…”

Oh, no. She braces herself for the worst.

Uncurling his fingers, he reveals his present for her.

“It’s… a pin?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Remember when I took my sister to the Met a few weeks ago? They were having that thing on Egyptian jewelry? Well, of course we had to stop in the gift shop, and I saw this and just--you know, thought of you.”

It is a pin--one of those lapel pins that more often than not are added to a collection usually displayed on a backpack. This pin is a silhouette she recognizes instantly: the Parthenon, its columns and angles rendered in sterling silver, little grooves dug into the metal in an approximation of the fluting.

“Wow,” she breathes. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” His ears are pink. “Happy birthday.”

And then he hugs her.

After a moment, she hugs him back.

It’s amazing how she can have had sex with someone so many times, but feel so awkward giving them a hug.

“I didn’t, um, tell anyone else,” he says, pulling back. His hands linger on her shoulders, thumb tapping at the base of her neck. “But, I kept meaning to give this to you, so, you know, now was as good a time as any, yeah?”

“I love it,” she says, honestly. Which surprises her. “Thank you.”

She slips it into her own pocket, not even minding the sharp corners.

When they return, Nico has already cut into the cake. “You were taking too long,” he snips.

It really is delicious. Much, much later, Percy sends her home with a sweet, soft kiss, and one of the last remaining slices, rather than staying for dinner.

Percy is the kind of boy who goes to his mother’s for dinner every week. She had been invited, but also threatened with the promise of another cake, and his ten year old sister, who would “love to make you a present.”

It sounded nice, but Annabeth knew when she wasn’t really wanted, and so she demurred, citing a need for some solo downtime.

She hasn’t heard from Thalia in, like, four days, which meant she had probably gotten a short-term gig. (“You’re lucky, she’s had Jason paying for her phone the whole time you’ve known her. Before that, she was almost impossible to get ahold of.”) Piper would take her out to dinner tomorrow, “just because.” But they would both know it wasn’t true.

So, to refresh and relax after a long, harrowing day of socializing, Annabeth goes home.

Or at least to her apartment.

It doesn’t have a doorman, or the views, or the room, like Nico’s place. Nor does it have any of the people, the energy, the joy. Her furniture doesn’t fill it up. The most appetizing thing in her kitchen are the granola bars Percy had made the week before, or maybe the brownies he made four days ago. She sets her to-go bag of cake and croissants down next to them, a smorgasboard of Percy’s culinary prowess.

Despite the long hours, her clothes still smell a little like last night’s bar, and her skin has a faint patina of dried sex sweat, and smudged makeup.

She doesn’t want to start leaving things at Percy’s place--don’t want him to get the wrong idea--but she also occasionally needs to be able to touch up her eyeliner. She’s either going to have to find a bag that isn’t embarrassing to carry, or surreptitiously shove some eyeliner and lipstick next to the condoms in Percy’s nightstand next time they have a sleepover. Or raid Nico’s bathroom.

Regardless, she needs a wash something bad.

As she scrubs down, she does her best to focus on the lemon scent of her body wash, and not Percy’s perfect form, dripping with water. She tries to visualize her last trip to Sephora, not blowing him under the hot water.

It doesn’t really work, so she gets herself clean and gets herself off and considers just spending the rest of the day naked, in case the mood strikes her again. But it's only 5PM, and she doesn’t have Percy to cook her some dinner tonight, so she sucks it up and puts on some pants.

When she had visited Boston for work a couple of months back, Alex had insisted on taking her shopping, complaining that her sister and her friend Mallory didn’t understand Versace quite like Annabeth did, and that Blitz sucked all the fun out of fashion, anyway. Then, she had bullied Annabeth into buying a set of sweats, claiming it was because of the Grecian patterns, but probably because she thought Annabeth in that much purple would be funny.

But eventually, she had wheedled, cajoled, and threatened Annabeth into buying a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. After deciding to forgo a bra, because that is just one more area she has always fallen short in, she shoves on a School of Architecture underneath them. The crimson clashes terribly with the lavender and seafoam, but she kind of likes it. Piper would call it “artfully nauseating,” or something.

Besides, no one is going to see her but her delivery guy. And if someone did see her, someone like Thalia or Percy, well, the clashing colors would be the least of her worries.

She is folded into her couch, wedged into the corner, very much not looking up Paris Ballet clips from the past few years, trying to spot Percy in the background, when there is a knock on her door.

Not for the first time, she curses her lack of doorman--and then frowns. Who even knows where she lives?

Piper and Leo? Magnus and Alex?

Has she already ordered food and just forgotten?

Is memory loss a side effect of a SK-II mask no one had warned her about?

Tentatively, she creeps towards the door, opening it slowly. If this were a horror movie, the door would creak open, revealing the villain cast in the shadows of the hallway, holding his weapon of choice.

She sighs.

The man is only a few inches taller than her, and dressed impeccably in a t-shirt and jeans that probably cost half a year of her rent-- a big critique coming from her, since she wears a month of her own rent as sweats. His blond hair is impeccably combed, his tennis shoes impeccably white, and his smile the most charming thing you can find this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Happy birthday, girly,” he says, giving her an awkward, one-armed hug, trying to avoid getting any of her facemask on his shirt.

“What are you doing here?”

“It's your birthday,” he reminds her, holding up the bag. “I told you I’d stop by last week.”

Had he? Maybe, and she’d just been too drunk or hung over to really process it. But maybe he’d also meant to, and then failed to follow through. Luke has a bit of a nasty habit of treating his intentions as the same as his actions. His intentions are good, usually, but it means that he often ignored the actual actions. Like how his intention was to support his mother in the best nursing home in the northeast, but his action was to work with Saturn, a very shady hedge fund, to facilitate it. Or how his intention was to have someone at a stuffy party to talk to, but his action was dressing up Annabeth as his arm candy because none of Piper’s models would call him back anymore. He hasn’t asked her to do that since, like, February though, thankfully.

“Sorry,” Annabeth says. “I just… you know I don’t like my birthday.”

He also has a bit of a habit of ignoring her distaste in a really blatant way.

He’s a little like Percy that way, actually.

She’d only ever told Luke about her birthday back in those embarrassing freshman days, when she’d thought he looked as good on paper as any Harvard MBA student possibly could, with a devastating smile to match. She’d been so convinced that he would be the right boyfriend that might finally get her mother’s approval, and she figured that her future husband should know her birthday.

“Come in,” she says, reaching for the bag, but he shakes his head and brushes past her, dumping his black back on the coffee table. Graciously, he doesn’t look at her as he starts to empty out its contents, giving her an opportunity to dart back to her bathroom and peel off her facemask. Luke would forgive designer sweats, but they aren't at the “just chilling in a facemask” level of a relationship.

When she returns, there is a small assembly line arranged on her coffee table: a stack of paper plates, a carton of Haagen Daas, forks and spoons, and a Milk Bar cake, all wrapped in its box.

“Is Milk Bar still the ‘it’ thing?” she asks. “With locations all over the country, I figured it would be passé by now.”

“I know it’s your favorite,” Luke says. “I don’t always have to choose the most popular thing.”

Milk Bar had been her favorite, that is true, right up until she’d started fucking Percy Jackson, and eating his food.

“Thanks,” she says, cutting herself a slice, and scooping herself some ice cream.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” he asks, cutting himself a sliver.

“I have had so much cake today,” she says. Milk Bar really isn’t as good as Percy's, but it reminds her of birthdays in high school, waiting for her mother to visit, sneaking out when she inevitably didn’t, convincing the local bad boy to buy her some alcohol. She eats it, eagerly.

Luke’s jaw drops. “You had a birthday cake? By choice? On your birthday?”

She shakes her head, swallowing. “No, I was at a party with some friends. They didn’t even know it was my birthday,” Until she had stupidly revealed it. Whatever. She just has to make sure he’s been excised from her life by this time next year. And maybe freeze some of his baked goods beforehand.

Luke doesn’t let her go through with her evening plans, which consisted basically of watching Legally Blonde for the gazillionth time while she slurped down some pierogies, but he capitulates to Roman Holiday , helping her put away the leftover cake and ice cream. “Thanks,” she says, when the movie was done. “I’m glad you came over. “

No one ever comes over. Thalia is her best friend, but Thalia would have questions about how she could afford the place, Piper never understood why she’d moved out here at all, and Percy… Percy was irrelevant. There is no reason for him to come here.

“I always like to see my best girl.” He smiles at her, charming and rogueish.

“If all those models you keep trying to date know that your best girl is an architect who lives in Brooklyn who you actually feed, that’s probably why they don’t want to date you back.”

Luke laughs, leaning over and knocking his shoulder against her own. “None of those girls could hold a candle to you.”

“God, you must be a terrible boyfriend.”

“Probably,” he agrees, sitting up and stretching, before reaching back to the bag he brought the cake in. “After all, you are the one I bring all the nice presents. But I think I’m a pretty good friend.”

He takes out a box, burnt orange, a black ribbon wrapped around it, because Luke is nothing if not predictable.

Annabeth sighs internally, quietly reminding herself that money is how Luke shows his love. And that she is wearing Versace sweats.

“Herm é s,” she says, pulling off the ribbon. “This box looks too small for a Birkin.”

“Do you want a Birkin?” he asks. “I can get you a Birkin.”

“I probably don’t need a Birkin,” she admits. Though maybe it would be nice to have one in her closet, if her mom ever calls her up for lunch again. She could show up with a Birkin and an eyebrow ring. Sweet revenge.

Luke waves a hand. “It doesn't matter if you need one, just if you want one.”

Inside the box is a scarf, the silk soft and smooth between her fingers, a pleasing gradient of oranges and reds and pinks and corals. When she unfolds it, laying it out before her, she finds a sharp, geometric design, columns stacked together like skyscrapers. Luke obviously had her in mind when he picked it out.

“Thanks,” she says. It’s pretty--perfect for an ambitious young architect with two degrees from Harvard who had moved to New York City with an offer from one of the best architecture firms in the world. And Annabeth has no idea where she could possibly want or need to wear it.

“Hey,” Luke says, suddenly soft, “don’t cry.”

Shocked, she reaches her hand up to her face. It’s wet.

Luke is probably the only person she will let herself cry in front of. She’d spent three years doing that in college. He’d seen her through heartbreak and hangovers, guiding her through it all like an aloof big brother.

“I’m okay,” she hiccups, wiping her nose.

He hands her a napkin.

Annabeth blows her nose, wet and gross. “I’m sorry, I promise I’m alright.”

“You sure?” He sounds sincere, but she catches him glancing down at his wrist.

“Do you have a date?”

“I…” At least he has the decency to look sheepish. “Just some guys at work. You can come, if you want.”

It could be fun. Hanging out with Luke can be fun. Get a little lit, take a business bro home, screw his brains out, send him on his way. But there’s an unspoken dress code to these things, and Annabeth just doesn’t wear Louboutins anymore. And the idea of fucking a business bro just… doesn’t hold any appeal right now.

“No thanks,” she nods, using the clean edge of the napkin to wipe her eyes. “I am going to watch The Search For Elle Woods , and you're going to strike out with some models, and everyone is going to be happy.”

“You really are so mean to me.” Luke complains, as she walks him to the door, before giving her another hug. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I am.” She is different and new, but Luke is still her friend. She had survived. It would be okay.

“Well, call me if you need something.” He kisses her cheek, sweetly, without any heat. Perfectly platonic. “I love you very much. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

“Always.” And he is gone.

She folds the scarf, going to put it in the dresser in her room, shoving it among a handful of accessories, gathering dust. She realizes, with a start, that she’s left a week’s worth of clothes all over her room on the way to the shower, and, with a sigh of adulthood, and the knowledge that if she doesn’t follow the ADHD gods and pick them up now, they’ll be there for weeks, languishing on her floor and stinking up the place, she goes to at least move them into her hamper. She rifles through ripped jeans and band t-shirts and black socks as she goes, checking each for anything like discarded change or a bus pass she doesn’t want to wash.

She shakes out the pants she’d worn out the night before, and therefore the entire day until she’d gotten home. There is a rather unfortunate stain on the knee that she can’t quite parse--ketchup? Chocolate?

Then she reaches into the pockets, touching metal, and she suddenly remembers her other birthday present for the day.

Pulling out the pin, she feels strange, hot in the face, funny in the belly, tossing the jeans haphazardly in with the dirty laundry. It's small and shiny, cheap metal for mass market production, and yet, she walks it over to the dresser, laying it down on the silk scarf like it's the diamond broach her aunt gave her for her sixteenth birthday.

She really is beyond Hermès scarves now. But that pin? Well, you never really can get more Annabeth--the middle school know-it-all, teenage debutante, college perfectionist, New York yuppy, or barfly and punk princess--than one of the greatest architectural achievements in human history.

She is still a little shocked by how much she loves it. How much it means to her that Percy saw that it was perfect for her.

And like so many times when she is confronted with an emotion she doesn’t like, she slams the door closed, and goes and watches a favorite movie from high school.

She does order dinner, eventually, setting out her meal in between texting Piper about brunch tomorrow. It's a whole thing, pretending that they’re not going out for her birthday, but eventually they agree on a time and a place, and she can eat her sausage and watch everyone practice the Bend and Snap in peace.

So she is very annoyed when her phone buzzes again.

Maybe the reservation fell through. Or maybe she doesn’t want Annabeth to show up in ripped fishnets, even though that only happened once.

Her stomach sinks when she checks her phone. It isn’t Piper.

Hello Dear, Happy Birthday. We miss you. Please call anytime. Love Dad, Mary, and the boys.

Below the text is a link, leading to a gift certificate for $200 to Sephora, which has Mary’s name written all over it. Aunt Natalie would have suggested Bergdorf Goodman.

Her hand clenches, momentarily overcome with the urge to hurl her phone against the wall. But there is no one around, so there wouldn’t be any point to it.

She stabs at a pierogi with a chopstick, and watches the girls dance on screen, humming along.

She passes out on the couch after midnight.

Her mother never called.

#my fic #darkmagyk #pjo #percabeth #the rivalry ends here #ballet au #slightly douchey big brother luke castellan ftw!!!!!

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