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ratcash-wasgud · 2 months

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this is my first time requesting here and im so nervous since the idea itself is so cheesy. could we have a modern au loser mizu who listens to "pasilyo" (a filipino song about wanting to get married so badly to someone; i highly recommend listening its so addicting!) and immediately thinks of her crush. thank you sm!

hel lovely!!!!! omg this is such a cute idea...it would be a shame if someone...have added some smut....hm...

anyways i kept this short, just to not overdo the vibe hihi

and you were right, it IS addicting. mwah.

Peonies

"I told you, I don't plan on doing that. Stop trying to play matchmaker, Mama." Mizu grumbles into the phone as she agressively spreads butter onto a slice of toast.

Her mother called her up again, which is always...well, a bother. She just nags her about settling down, even if she's still in college, finding a good boyfriend, getting married, having kids and basically giving up on everything she ever wanted. This is the reason she could never come out to her mother.

These talks always makes her hate the idea of marriage. Why would she ever tie herself down? Plus, it's a stupid old tradition. Plus, it's not even legal where she lives. It's just dumb to even think about it.

"No. I'm just busy." Mizu shrugs as she bites into the toast, still holding the phone up to her ear. Her mom keeps scolding her about ruining the family's name if she refuses to get married.

After about ten agonizing minutes, she hangs up. She lands on her bed with a groan. And just when she thinks she found peace, her phone lights up with a notification. It's a text from a groupchat called Tea Party with Eeyore, which has Ringo, Taigen, Akemi, and you in it.

ringo: omgomg look!

ringo: *a picture of you holding up a full tray of freshly baked pinagong.*

ringo: she helped me with my pastry of the week!!!

taigen: what even is that?

ringo: it's a type of fillipino bread! i learned it in baking class today.

you: we even made a whole playlist of fillipino songs to listen to while we bake :DDD

*you sent the link to the playlist.*

ringo: yup. we got into the mood, if you will

akemi: ringo, sweetie, that could have douple meanings

ringo: oh

The name is a dumb inside joke from that one time Akemi came up with the idea that having blue as a main color and being grumpy is enough for her to be just like Eeyore. She remembers you laughed so hard when she contined this line of thinking and matched Taigen with Tigger, because they're both annoying It's only because of that she doesn't mind this whole thing. She loves your laugh.

Mizu had a crush on you ever since she met you. It wasn't a hard crush to develop, honestly. You were kind for no reason, had eyes with stars in them, always full of energy while wearing the brightest smile she ever seen. You were just generally lovely. She was sure Taigen also had a crush on you at some point, which always irritated her, even if she never planned on making a move.

Mizu was content with the way things were. She was silently loving you from afar while you shined your bright light on her withouth even noticing. You made her happy if you didn't know.

She rolled over to her side, and tapped on the link you sent to the playlist. You had great taste in music, so if you were able to vive to these songs, they can't be that bad.

Then as the playlists starts playing, she hears a couple notes of an electric guitar, and she lightly shivers. Pasilyo was the first song. She never heard about it, but the melody quickly captured her.

She stared up the ceiling and she imagined you and Ringo listening to this song. She imagines you accidentaly spilling flour all over yourself, getting some on your face as you laugh, and she imagines her hand softly wiping it off. She imagines you sitting infront of the oven, staring at the growing pastry dough as it bakes, and having that bright and excited smile on your face when you succesfully decide that yes, it has gotten bigger since the last minute you checked. You'd look at her with big doe eyes when she tells you that it's time to do the dishes afterwards, singlaing how much you don't wanna. And of couse, she'd wash them instead of you, without hesitation. You'd hug her from behind as she does them, and hum the song in her ear, rocking your hips with hers playfully while your soft cheek is squished against her shoulder.

She sudenly wonders if that's how married life would look like with you. Damn, Mama has gotten into her head. But she doesn't mind it if it's like this. Would getting married really be horrible if it was with you? She decies on a firm no. You'd be the loveliest bride.

A bride she'd love to tie herself down to.

You'd stand there, at the altar, wearing all white and holding a big bouquet of daisies, camellias and lakspurs...maybe even peonies.

Yeah...definetly peonies. There would also be peony petals on the floor, scattered across, and one in your hair. Behind your ear...or one holding up your veil.

You'd smile when you see her on the other end of the aisle, like you see your future in her eyes. Your eyes would focus only on her, and your hand would squeeze hers for comfort as she says her vows. She'd kiss you with all her might in that moment. She'd pick you up and carry you away while you both laugh into eachothers faces.

She'd wake up to you every day of the week. To your soft cheeks squiched up against the pillow, your hand around her, and your breathing tickling her skin. She'd never want to get out of bed. She'd wake up hours earlier just to cuddle your sleeping form.

When you'd stir, you'd look into her eyes with your still hazy ones, and plant a good morning kiss on her forehead. In return Mizu would kiss your cheek, then your nose, then your jaw...then your neck, then your chest...

She'd put her hands on your breats, softly squeezing them as she teases them through your thin pajama top. She'd want it to be casual, domesticated, but still so, so exciting to make love to you.

She'd slowly get on top of you, and get lost in the way you're looking up at her. She'd slowly lift your top, and press her knee between your legs. Oh, how'd you tremble. You'd look up at her all needy, she'd have no option but to help you.

Her tongue would softly curcple your nipple, dry lips wrapping around it to trap it, all for herself. Her hand would slowly find it's way inside your pajama pants, long fingers sliding through your lips. She'd toy with you slick, because she knows it's there because of her. She'd bathe in the feeling of your clit pulsing for her before sliding her fingers inside, massagnig your inner walls. She'd coo in your ear, because you're just so precious when she's inside you like this. You turn into a ragdoll, and you can't do anything but whimper for her. You'd depend on her, especially in moments like this.

She'd give it to you every morning. She'd never hesitate to obey every command your body gives her.

Then she'd watch you make breakfast with your ears still red from getting taken by her so early in the morning. You'd sit in her lap while you'd eat breakfast. She'd feed you pieces of her bacon, and you'd give her bites from your egg. She'd give small pecks to your soft lips, to kiss away droplets of coffee.

She gets torn out from her daydream though by another text. She looks at it through half lidden eyes.

ringo: we made too many :(

taigen: that's what u get for always going overboard

you: mizu !!!

you: do you want some? i think you'd love pinagong!!!

Mizu smiles to herself as she reads the text. Maybe she isn't fine with how things are right now. Maybe she does need to make a move.

mizu: yeah

mizu: omw.

Maybe...she could stop by the flower shop and get some peonies.

Just maybe.

#blue eye samurai #bes mizu #blue eye samurai mizu #bes x reader #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu fanfic #fanfiction #bes smut #smut

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jlvrls · 2 months

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oranges...

pairings : season one!jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings : none

synopsis : jj gets the bright idea to climb an orange tree to surprise his girlfriend with all the oranges she could ever want.

a/n : if you've seen this before just know I didn't steal it, I had a past account and in attempts to turn over a new leaf I deleted it but obviously I've failed at doing so, and my sister has begged for a repost so here it is !

It had been a quiet, smooth rolling day which was rare for you and the pogues. Pope was working with his dad, John B was at the beach with kiera and sarah, all while you and JJ had been hiking to find a place he desperately wanted to show you. As the two of you walked, JJ was quick to notice the bright orange scattered on the ground and throughout the trees. In the midst of staring off at the beautiful woods surrounding him he got lost. You still continued behind him since you assumed he knew where he was going, he didn't tell you he was lost- he just changed his direction.

"J, I thought you said we were going to some abandoned cabin thing you found," You said with a tired voice. The two of you had been walking for what seemed like hours but in reality was only about 45 minutes. "We should be close. I come here all the time." He lied. "Sure." You muttered under your breath. You continued behind him as you tried to fan away the heat on your face. There was rarely a day where it wasn't hot in Kildare. Fortunately, you chose to wear shorts and a sleeveless shirt of JJ's you'd found somewhere in your hamper. You tried to look past the ache in your heels and the heat that felt like it was going to melt you but your annoyance blinded any other feelings.

The two of you continued to walk for another 15 minutes before JJ actually got to where he was supposed to go. The house was definitely old and seemed like it'd been abandoned for years but the land made up for it. The land was beautiful. The grass was green and tall, there were trees surrounding the large plot of land and there were even some flowers every now and then. You made your way to the front of the house and pulled a blanket big enough for the two of you from your bag and placed it on the ground. This was just something you and JJ did when you were bored; go explore and eat whatever you chose to bring that day.

JJ had run off somewhere while you brought out your very specific sandwich and JJ's which he clearly made. Yours had the crust cut off and was a simple peanut butter and banana sandwich. JJ's was very... sloppy, to say the least. His bread was lopsided and halfway hanging off. Whatever lunch meat he grabbed was spilling out of the sides and into the container he shoved it in. You felt a little bad for not helping him since it didn't look too appetizing. After examining the difference in the sandwiches you grabbed your water bottle and left whatever random snacks JJ packed in the bottom of the bag. It was quiet and peaceful before a gust of wind blew your hair in your face and caused a few strands to get caught on your lips from your chapstick.

It'd been a few minutes since you last saw JJ. Worry started to settle in your stomach in a way that made you a bit queasy. You were in a place you weren't familiar with and JJ very easily could be injured and there was no way you'd be able to walk him all the way home. You pulled your phone from your back pocket and went to your contacts to find JJ's. Right as you went to call him you nearly jumped out of your skin as JJ scared you. He was laughing as you rolled your eyes at his behavior. "Where'd you go?" You asked as you took your lid off your sandwich. "I found something really cool!" He answered happily. You didn't bother turning to face him, he probably found a bug or something.

As you took a bite JJ moved beside you and let go of his shirt as multiple oranges fell onto the blanket. Your chewing slowed as you looked up at him with a small grin. Oranges were your favorite fruit, they always refreshed you. "Where'd you find these?" You asked while feeling one in your hand. "There's a few orange trees closer to the back of the house and I knew you liked them so I grabbed as many as I could." He explained. You giggled as he pulled an orange from each of his back pockets and held them out for you to grab.

"Thank you, JJ. You're the best." You said.

"I know I am." He joked as he sat down, ready to enjoy the day with you.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #john b routledge #sarah cameron #pope heyward #obx fic #obx #jj obx imagine #jj obx #fem reader #season one

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babydollmarauders · 7 months

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TOLERATE IT — JOHN MARINO

john marino x fem!reader

summary: in which y/n’s love is tolerated at best, and she wonders what ever happened to her loving boyfriend

warnings: not much dialogue in the beginning?, happy or sad ending depending on the way you look at it, not proofread.

notes: i love writing angst but as a john girlie, this hurt me— but i did this to myself

the page turns, John’s fingers skimming it gently.

his head is dipped low, one leg perched on the other. he’s sat on the other end of the sofa, engrossed in his book; whereas i pay no attention to the movie that plays on the tv, rather watching him instead.

his demeanor is peaceful, and i know better than to actually disturb him. this is some of the only time he gets to relax, and i don’t want to take that away from him. so i sit quietly instead, just enjoying the rare company.

but i can’t help but wish he would actually do something with me. watch a movie, cuddle, talk, anything. instead i’m subjected to medium silence and the sound of paper flipping.

i turn the tv off, rising from the couch, and his eyes flicker up at my movement, but he dismisses it quickly, going back to his book.

“i’m going to bed.” i tell him softly, quietly yearning for him to join me, but instead he just hums in acknowledgment. “are you gonna join me?”

his eyes scan the page for a few more seconds as i stand before him, waiting for his response. finally, he looks up at me properly, shaking his head.

“no, i’m good.”

my heart sinks at his reply, but i nod, “okay.”

i spend my entire bedtime routine hoping that he’ll walk into the room. that maybe he’ll change his mind and for once, we’ll go to bed together; like we did early in our relationship. but when i climb into an empty bed and he’s still in the living room, i have to accept the fact that it’s not happening. that those days are apparently over.

i stir in my sleep, shifting under the weight of an arm draped over my waist, and for a second my heart leaps in my chest, thinking John has decided to cuddle me as i slept. but when i turn under his touch, my eyes fluttering open, i find him asleep. the spooning an unconscious movement, and as soon as it’s started, it’s already over, his arm drawing back as he moves in his slumber to lay on his back.

i settle on my side, resting my head in my hand as i watch the steady rise and fall of his chest in the darkness of the room. the silence piercing as i watch him breathe.

what ever happened to the boy who held me as we slept? the same one who comforted me when people criticized our five year age gap. the one who told me he would do anything to keep me happy.

***

my heart races in my chest as i set the dining table.

the usual plastic plates and cups being replaced for fine china and wine glasses. a singular candle is lit in the middle of the table, next to the steaming pasta that waits to be served. homemade french bread sits beside it, a dish of herb infused butter resting atop of the wood as well.

i spent all day in the kitchen, making everything from scratch. the noodles, the sauce, the bread, the butter, all done today by me. as well as John’s favorite chocolate cake, in which i got the recipe from his mother.

it’s officially our two year anniversary, and i took advantage of the fact that John had practice today and then was going to the gym. i figured a slightly early dinner and then dessert would be a good plan before i gave him his present and then hopefully we would make our way to the bedroom.

but now i sit in my seat at the table, awaiting his return. he had told me he would be home by six, but the clock on the dining room wall displays that it’s a quarter past seven and he still isn’t home.

i’ve stuck the food into the oven to keep warm at this point, but the empty chair across from me and the soft music that floats through the house taunts me.

“alexa, stop the music.” the instrumental cuts off abruptly, tears welling in my eyes at my boyfriends absence.

i’m just about ready to eat by myself and call it an early night when i hear the front door open, footsteps echoing through the house, getting closer and closer. they halt when he reaches the dining room, and i look up to find him standing in the doorway.

his brows are threaded together, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“you made dinner?” he questions, setting his bag on the ground beside him.

i perk up immediately, disappointing myself with how quickly i’m ready to move past his lateness.

“yeah.” i smile, motioning toward the empty seat. “take a seat, i’ll go grab it out of the oven! i was waiting for you to get home.”

he nods, sitting down as i scurry towards the kitchen. i bring the pasta and bread and butter out one at a time before taking my seat across from him.

i’m on the edge of my seat, eagerly awaiting his praise for my cooking and the setup, or even just a ‘happy anniversary, baby.’ but it never comes. we eat silently as he scrolls on his phone, and when he finishes his food, he quickly stands to dismiss himself.

“wait!” he stops at my shout, furrowing his brows at me. “i made cake.”

my eyes are soft, silently begging him to stay.

despite the fact that he evidently forgot our anniversary, i’m still eager to please him; vying for his attention and love, the best i can.

he nods, settling back down in his seat.

“dinner, cake, wine, and glass plates?” he laughs, “you were feeling fancy tonight.”

my heart shatters in my chest. even though i know he forgot the date, it still hurts to hear him speak like it’s just another day. proving even further that he doesn’t know how special today is.

“well, yeah, it’s-” i’m so close to reminding him, but then i think of how guilty he’ll feel, and i stop. “it’s just been a good day.”

i plaster a smile on my lipstick covered lips, hoping he’ll buy it; and he does. he gives me a small smile back and i excuse myself to the kitchen, taking a moment to blink back tears before i cut into the cake, setting a slice on a plate and hurrying back to him.

i place the dessert in front of him, before sitting back down, just watching him as he eats. i’m no longer in a cake mood, my appetite gone as i push my still only half eaten pasta around my plate.

“Jack said hi, by the way.” he speaks between bites and i hum.

“that’s nice, i’ll have to text him.” i acknowledge. “i talked to your mom today.”

“you did?”

“yeah, i called her for the cake recipe.” i explain. “she said to tell you to call her.”

maybe she can remind him what day it is, seeing as she remembered it as soon as i called her.

“okay, i’ll call her soon.” he tells me, finishing his last bite before he stands once more.

“anything else, or can i take a shower now?” he asks, as though i’ve inconvenienced him somehow.

“you can shower.” i wait until he’s walking away, heading down the hallway to our room before i speak again, lowly whispering. “happy anniversary.”

i know i deserve better; that my love should be celebrated. i know that i deserve someone who will remember our anniversary; maybe even someone who will get me flowers just because and who will spend time with me and appreciate my love rather than tolerate it, but i love him.

***

i sit backwards, on my knees on a chair in the living room, facing the front door. i wait eagerly, checking the time on my phone religiously.

i know John should be home soon. a week long roadie finally ending with his long awaited return.

it’s half past two in the morning, much later than i normally stay up, but i refuse to let him arrive home without a proper welcoming.

my eyes are half lidded, but excitement still courses through my veins, remembering his three goals and seven assists in this past four games.

i perk up at the sound of the front door unlocking, watching with baited breath as it creaks open. John steps through the doorway, looking exhausted, slipping his shoes off and dropping his roadie bag on the floor.

i squeal excitedly, gaining his attention as i hop off my chair and run straight into his arms.

“welcome home, Johnny!” i cheer, snaking my arms around his neck, and jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist.

he stiffens for a split-second, letting out an ‘oomph’ before his hands fly to my butt to hold my weight.

“jesus, y/n, warn a guy, would you?” he huffs out a laugh and i lean back to look at his face, expecting a smile but all i see is a blank expression and tired eyes.

i give a sad smile, unwrapping my legs and letting my body slide down his.

suddenly, i feel incredibly insecure, my happy mood diminishing and quickly being replaced by regret.

“you’re right, i’m sorry.” i breathe out, backing away. “i guess i was overly excited.”

i turn quickly in order to keep him from seeing my now glassy eyes, tears threatening to spill as i retreat down the hall to our bedroom.

i don’t expect for him to accompany me, but suddenly i can hear his footsteps behind me, slowly following.

“what was that?” he questions as we reach the bedroom.

i can feel myself reaching my boiling point, choosing to ignore his words as i walk into the en-suite bathroom. i turn the shower water on, but he follows me into the bathroom too.

“y/n.”

y/n. not ‘babe’ or ‘love’. just y/n.

i swallow the lump in my throat before i turn to face him.

“aren’t you gonna go to bed?” i ask in attempt to avoid his question. “you seem tired.”

“aren’t you?” he raises a brow, and i shake my head.

i jab my thumb towards the shower behind me, “i’m gonna shower first.”

“i see that.” he huffs. “what was that? you just walked away from me.”

i sigh, knowing what’s finally coming, and turn to shut off the shower water before facing him again.

“doesn’t feel good, does it?” i walk around him, back into the bedroom, but he’s hot on my heels.

“what?” his hand grips my wrist, spinning me back around to look at him. “what are you talking about?”

“look, if this is all in my head, tell me now.” i start, only confusing him further by the looks of his expression. “but, you don’t love me anymore.”

tell me i’ve got it wrong.

he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before he opens them again. “what are you even saying? i’m dating you, aren’t i?”

“are you?” i laugh bitterly, taking a couple steps backwards. “or are you tolerating me?”

“y/n,” he sighs, shaking his head. “you’re tired. and i must’ve upset you somehow, but you’re not making any sense.”

“you don’t appreciate me!” i shout, my hands gesturing wildly in the air.

“i cooked a nice dinner for our anniversary and you were late and forgot the date! and while you’re off playing hockey and winning games, where am i? here! i sit here and polish plates until they gleam and glisten. i clean the house and sit and wait for your return, and then when you do get home, you don’t even seem happy to see me! at all!”

John blinks in surprise at my outburst, his lips parting to speak, but i cut him off before he can get a word out.

“i made you my everything and you don’t even seem to care! i’ve been begging for you to love me again but i’m done! what happened to the man that assured me that my past relationships didn’t define me? the you that actually spent time with me?”

my chest heaves as i regain my breath, watching his expression change from confusion to defensiveness.

“i spend time with you!” he huffs and i roll my eyes.

“no, you sit and you read or you watch games or you do something by yourself on the other side of the couch.” i clarify dejectedly, nearly ready to give up. “you don’t do things with me. and if i try, you wave me off.”

“i just- i don’t understand where this is coming from.” he tells me, and i slump on the end of the bed, furiously wiping away tears that have begun to fall.

“that’s just it. you assume i’m fine with this, because i’ve let it go on for too long. i’ve sat here, and i’ve painted you in the best colors, and i’ve put you on this pedestal. i told myself that if i just did more- if i just did anything you could ever hope for- then we would be fine. that eventually you’ll love me again and you’ll treat me how you used to and we would be happy. but instead i watch you live your life and i’m delegated to the sidelines, begging to be even a minor part of your life. you tolerate me living with you. you tolerate my existence. and you tolerate my love.

“but i’m done. i can’t do it anymore.” my face falls in my hands, sobs wracking my chest.

i’ve finally given up.

John is quiet, but i can hear his feet padding against the floor for a moment, moving farther away before he comes back.

his fingers spread across my thigh, and when i drag my hands away from my face, opening my eyes to look at him, he’s kneeled on the floor in front of me.

“i’m sorry that you feel i don’t love you anymore. i never meant to make you feel like you’re just tolerated in my life. but i promise you, i see you. i do appreciate everything you do for me, and the love that you give me.”

his hand leaves my skin, fumbling with something in his grasp before holding it up.

my heart skips a beat, those butterflies returning in my stomach as my lips part in surprise. my eyes lock in on the diamond ring that sits in the little black velvet box in his hands.

“i promise, you’re not just going tolerated. i love you, and i want you in my life forever.” my gaze flickers up to his face, and i already begin nodding my head. “will you marry me?”

i nod even faster, an excited grin spreading over my lips, and he smiles softly, removing the ring from the box and slipping it onto my outstretched finger.

i admire it for a second, appreciating how right it looks to have a ring on my finger.

this is it.

this is what i did it all for.

what i’ve waited my whole life for.

my hands cup his face, pulling him in to press my lips to his.

“i love you.” i whisper, my lips still burning for his, and in response, he pulls me in for another kiss.

when we finally part, we begin to get ready for bed, effectively ignoring the outburst i just had. and once we climb into bed, i kiss him once more, melting into his touch like i used to.

“i’m sorry, you must be tired. i took up so much of your time tonight, you could’ve been asleep by now.” i mumble, listening to his heartbeat under the weight of my head.

“it’s okay. don’t apologize.” his fingers run through my hair and he turns off his bedside lamp, blanketing the room in darkness. “i love you.”

i fully plan on responding, but amongst the comfort, my eyes have already turned heavy, and speaking feels like too much work. my breathing evens out as i bask in the closeness of this moment.

i love him.

#john marino #john marino x reader #john marino imagine #john marino fic #john marino blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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yourantag · 2 months

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Do NOT Let Him Cook (Morningstar!Ithaqua×Reader)

AN: Happy White Day! I'm probably not posting more than this and the other fic I was supposed to post Valentine's Day (which, as you can see, I failed in doing) for March. I will, however, be posting a little more in April cause that is my birthday month! Expect a few indulgent fics. This fic is honestly just crack, so if you need something silly and sweet, here we are! Genuinely, do not let this man cook. Word count: 2.2k words Summary: It's White Day, a day of reciprocated love. Of course, Helel has to give you something in return for your wonderful Valentine's gift. Now, if only he could figure out how he turned a tart into a fruity croissant...

There were very few things Helel feared. The first, of course, was you. He held your heart in his hands as you did too, yes, but no one could get him to obey them quite like you could. It was loyalty, it was devotion, one reciprocated through blood and love. To possess such power over him is somewhat of a marvel, something to fear, even just a little.

The second was your death, the thought of you leaving his side forever. He'd tear apart the world, commit sacrilege in the holiest places, and declare war upon the gods before he'd let someone take you from him. Still, he cannot control plagues, time, or the hostility within the hearts of humans. Life is delicate, even Helel cannot deny that.

The third thing he feared, Helel learned, was baking.

It seems simple enough, really. Chuck a few ingredients in, mix it, then toss it in an oven. Easy, right? Looking around him now, with smoke billowing off the charred tray (and wow, he didn't know metal could burn like that), Helel was completely at a loss.

"Ah, these don't seem quite right." He muttered, scratching his cheek. All Helel wanted was to give you something in return for your Valentine's gift, something special. He had consulted many people, even asking some of the prisoners, as odd as that sounded.

Most didn't give any good responses, only saying "please let me go" or "you're going to pay for this." Terrible advice, really. Not even on topic, either, but it could be worse, he supposed. So, he went to ask his favorite person to bother.

"For the love of- just make them cookies or something!" Nebuchadnezzar had exclaimed, absolutely done with Helel's ramblings. He looked about ready to chew his tongue off so he could finally know peace again. At least death wouldn't ramble about their lover for 15 hours straight.

It had been a decent suggestion, so Helel had taken it. Perhaps he shouldn't have, considering the disaster that was most of his creations.

The counters were covered in flour, the fine powder dusting the area like snow. Splatters of batter, egg, and butter painted some places like abstract art. The worst place of all, funnily enough, was the table. It was completely clean, presenting only a few delectable looking treats.

Sadly, they were not exactly what they were made to be. Somehow, Helel had managed to make bread instead of cake, a croissant instead of a tart, and now small bricks instead of cookies. He carefully tapped one against the counter, wincing as the wood chipped under the force. The cookie, however, was fine.

'I... can't give them this.'

Helel smiled awkwardly, wanting nothing but to slam his face against a wall. He had thought "it couldn't be that hard!" and look at him now. It was pathetic, to the point he genuinely considered just asking a servant to make something instead. However, that's literally something he could do any other day. It didn't carry the significance he'd want it to.

You had given him the head of the rebellion's leader, which most would find horrifying but he found terribly romantic. The best Valentine's gift, truly. Sure, he couldn't give you something of equal value, but he could try and match the sentiment. Helel knew you loved effort and thought, so he would do his best to give you something of that in equal measure.

So, he couldn't give up. Helel once again turned to a different page in the cook book, praying to himself that he didn't fuck up this time. He couldn't possibly mess up sugar cookies, right? They were simple, so surely no matter what they'd be fine.

He was cursing himself wasn't he?

He poured the ingredients, carefully measuring them as he went through the motions. It went smoother this time since he just made cookies (if he could really call them that). With practice under his belt, Helel managed to make a tray of cookies.

"Now I roll them in sugar before baking... where's the sugar?" He looked around, grabbing at the jars in front of him.

"That's flour... that's baking powder... or is it baking soda?... that's powdered milk... wait why do we have powdered milk? Oh!" Helel smiled as he finally found what he was looking for. He didn't know how the chefs managed to get anything done with nothing labeled, but that was the beauty of not being a chef. He didn't have to know, and perhaps he never would.

So, he popped open the glass jar, pouring in the crystalline fragments into a bowl. They glimmered innocently in the light, small gems that melted upon one's tongue.

Helel quickly tossed each cookie ball into the bowl, placing them back onto the tray afterward. Making sure they weren't too close together, he arranged them one last time. Finally, he placed them in the oven. The timer would let him know when they were ready.

The man sighed, moving quickly to wash the dirty dishes. He knew he could leave it to the servants, but at this point, he just wanted to get rid of the evidence of his failures. Sure, most of his baked treats looked... fine, but the first few looked as though it had gone through someone's digestive system already.

After all was said and done, Helel felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. If this was what the chefs dealt with on the daily, he was going to have to give them a raise. All this for some desserts? Really? They deserved to be paid more for this misery.

Checking the timer, he nodded to himself. 10 minutes was enough time to snack on something. Helel let himself drop into a seat, groaning as his weary legs finally got to rest. He grabbed the cake-turned-bread, cutting off a small slice. The cookies were a definite no, and he had his suspicions about the croissant, but the bread seemed fine.

'If I get poisoned from this, they're never going to let me live it down.'

You would absolutely make fun of him. Morningstar, the King of Babel, dying from his own creation. It sounded like a story Shakespeare wrote, really. Helel hoped more for his pride rather than his life that he wasn't that bad at baking.

Taking a few bites, he found that he wasn't dying yet. Which was relieving, of course, but to his surprise, the bread also tasted not bad. Sweeter than most breads, but nothing unbearable. It was probably going to be one of the few things he could actually share with you.

At the chime of the timer, Helel took the cookies out of the oven, letting them cool. That would give him another few minutes to start packing things up. Should he use red ribbon or white? It's a White Day gift, yes, but you told him red reminded you of him.

Humming, the young king started slicing the bread, gently placing the slices in a nice container. Perhaps he should pack some jam in the basket too- it would go well with it.

Helel glanced at the first batch of cookies, opting to dump them in the trash after a brief moment of contemplation. Could they be used as projectiles? Honestly, yes. Was he going to let anyone know he failed that badly? Never.

Finally, he took a bite of one of the croissants. It was fine as well, just odd. The fruit fillings and cream were distributed well throughout the pastry. If it weren't for the fact that it was supposed to be a tart, Helel might have been proud.

Packing those up as well, he placed the 2 containers in a basket, grabbing a few jars of jam and a butter knife. By then, the cookies were sufficiently cooled. Though, after taking another look at them, Helel wondered what he had done wrong this time.

Unlike the first batch, these cookies were puffy. They weren't like cream puffs, but they were certainly not cookies. Had he mixed up which of the powders he was using? He really wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

The other pastries he had packed weren't made to be what they ended up as, but tasted fine anyway. Maybe, these would be the same.

So, shrugging his shoulders, Helel tossed one of the "cookies" in his mouth.

And instantly he regretted it.

It was salty. Not salty in the pleasantly seasoned way, but salty as in if he had drank salt water it would taste better than this.

Spitting out the abomination, Helel glared at one of the jars. Of course he mixed up the sugar and salt, of course. Still, he at least had something other than this. He'd just have to dispose of these.

If you didn't find him.

The door clicks open, and Helel can't decide whether he wants to scream or jump right out the window. In the doorway, as he expects, is you. You're always welcome in his eyes, his wonderful, perfect significant other. However, at this particular moment, he really wishes you weren't here.

"Helel? What are you doing here?"

Though you ask, you already seem to at least know he was baking. Not a very hard assumption to make, all things considered, but that just makes things harder for him.

"I was... baking." He says, giving a strained smile as he slowly grabs the tray of cookies. Hopefully, if he's quick enough, you won't even notice him toss the entire thing in the trash.

'Please do not ask about these, please don't notice-'

"Is that a scone dusted in salt???"

Helel was going to throw himself off a cliff.

"...I was trying to make sugar cookies."

The look you give him simply reaffirms his decision.

"I... see. What's the occasion?" You draw closer to him, staring curiously at the basket. He's thankful he managed to add a blanket on top beforehand, though it would've been nice if he had tied a ribbon around the handle, too.

"It's White Day, so I wanted to give you something special." Helel responded, dropping the tray with a sigh. It was too late to hide it, so why bother?

You hum softly, lips curling into a smile. You grab one of the scones, taking a bite before he can warn you. Yet, instead of spitting it out like he expected, you chewed as though nothing were wrong with it.

"Are- are you okay?" He can't help but ask. He had tried one right before you came- he knew they didn't taste good. So, how was it that you ate the entire scone without even cringing in the slightest?

"Yep, I'm fine. I'm sure you already know, but these are salty." You laugh, quickly grabbing a glass of water and chugging it. Despite the concern he feels, Helel can't help the way his chest warms.

"Well, yeah, I was going to warn you about that. Can't believe you ate it all- I spat it out immediately. Why did you eat it anyway?" He can't help but ask. You weren't one to shy away from being honest. The fact you looked him in the eye and told him it was salty was proof enough. You weren't scared of him, so why would you put yourself through that?

You give him a smile, tilting your head towards the window. The sun is high in the sky, letting all know that it was sometime in the afternoon.

"You've been here for... I'm guessing at least 5 hours. I don't know how you haven't collapsed yet, but that's not the point right now. The point is," You take his hands into yours, kissing each of his knuckles. "I see your effort, and I don't want to let it go to waste."

Helel, for all his cruelty, his hatred, his grief- cannot be anything but in love for you. To love is to be seen, to be known, and it seems that for all his life, that's exactly what you've done. Seen him, known him, but most of all, loved him.

So, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing kisses from your palm down to your wrist. He lingers there, letting you cradle his face as he closes his eyes.

It wasn't perfect by all means, but he thinks that this small moment is worth more than anything he could've ever orchestrated. Helel doesn't need endless praise, gifts, or overwhelming acts. All he needed was a bit of acknowledgement, a bit of love.

"Happy White Day, my sun.”

ALTERNATE STORY:

Helel did not realize he was that bad at baking. He completely blames Nebuchadnezzar for everything.

"HELEL, HOW THE FUCK DID YOU MANAGE TO MAKE A MONSTER!?"

"HIS NAME IS FREDERICK KREIBURG AND HE'S SORRY TO SAY THAT HE'S FRENCH!"

"WE AREN'T EVEN IN FRANCE! WHAT DID YOU ADD TO THOSE COOKIES? THE CREMATED REMAINS OF YOUR DAD!?"

"...that explains why the sugar was so dusty."

"...Helel Morningstar Babel-"

"Ahaha... ha..."

Yeah, Helel was going to kill his brother if you didn't end up killing him first.

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #ithaqua x reader #idv fanfic #identity v fanfic

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fairykazu · 3 months

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GINGERBREAD COMPETITION WITH CHILDE contents // established relationship, cheesy pick up lines / nicknames, baking chaos, one f bomb notes // i wanted this to be longer but ive delayed it for so much. hopefully by the time this is up im working on the next oneshot masterlist

childe had that look in his eyes, the fighting spirit he gets when he gets an idea to fight with you. playfully, of course. "babe," you weren't looking in his direction, instead, you were wrapping bows over the presents.

once he gets an idea, he never lets it go. "babe," he began to pester you, poking you in the sides while you were as still as a rock, used to of his antics. he started to frown, "babe, name, c'mon, aren't you my my sweet pea pookie? the apple of my eye?"

didn't phase you yet? don't worry, he still has a lot of nicknames up his sleeve. you began to wrap more presents. "sweetie muffin?"

you know if you give in, you have to listen to whatever he says to say for the moment but if you don't, he will pressingly continue with the cringe nicknames to make you listen to his announcement. as much you do want to know his announcement, you also wanted to finish wrapping presents as soon as possible.

"pumpkin butter honey biscuit..." that actually sounds really good. he pouted, it's really cute how he pouts despite the current circumstances. he's like a pitiful dog.

you were keeping your defenses up until he got closer to the nape of your neck, whispering, "sweet mcdreamy nutter butter... please..."

now that was terrible, you winced, "what?" he smiled when he finally got your attention, he cleared his throat while he held a fake microphone, "ahem, may i announce an idea?"

after finishing two bows, you tapped your chin with your finger, pretending to think, "hmmmm," you looked into his cerulean eyes pleading you to say yes. "you may."

already from your answer, he was with glee. he began to act like a host in those reality tv shows, "in honor of the winter spirit and tsarita, i say, 'we shall, have a gingerbread competition!'"

the idea has crossed your mind but considering the baking skills and how much childe likes to wing his recipes, "gingerbread competiton? who's going to make the bread?"

he smiled, "we are!" snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you up from the floor. you tapped on his shoulder as he sets you down, you furrowed a brow,

"the recipe?"

childe waved his phone around, "xiangling!"

you nodded, thankful that childe wouldn't wing the cookies this time. last time it was too salty when salt was supposed to enhance the sugar in the gingerbread. "okay, fine. what's the prizes?"

he exhaled nervously as you peered at him, "i didn't think this far. i thought you would reject my idea."

"start with the thinking pretty boy!"

flustered a little, he replied back with "ok, my sugar snookums."

you sighed, "i need you to stop with these, ajax." he laughed a little,

"these won't stop, pookie dookie bookie."

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

as the ingredients are prepped and ready, the challenge is set. the person with the best house, voting decided on instagram, would win by choosing the christmas movie and halloween costume for the next year, which isn't a prize per say but childe thinks so. despite the fact, you suggest he should choose and he always faltered to go with yours.

childe rolled up his sleeves as you tidied up your hair. glancing at your boyfriend, you recalled back when people had told you different rumors about him. how he was a playboy or indifferent cold hearted person, despite it all, you didn't fall for those.

but one particular one caught your attention, one being his eyes being always blank, missing a shine in his eyes. but when you look into his, it's always filled with light like how the sea reflects the light in every wave in sunny afternoons. "babe? is something wrong?"

"yeah," you replied as childe's face became concerned. he held your head in his hands, inspecting anything on your face.

"what's wrong?"

"you're too pretty."

he giggled, twirling one ginger lock around his fingers before turning around, clearing his throat. a dust of pink across his face, "i mean, thank you, babe. i appreciate it!! um, let's get started, yeah!!"

it was an hour in, the gingerbread cookies were done baking, cooling off away from the oven. while you were sketching your idea for your house, thinking about a castle or maybe a cottage? childe tapped your shoulder, you turned to his direction,

"hey girl, mind if we take a picture?"

you ignored him and continued to draw, "hey, c'mon," he pouted as sighing as you turned to him again. "'cause i need to show Santa exactly what i want for Christmas." he winked as you laughed,

"okay, childe."

"im the rizzler- wait what?"

"what?"

"childe? not even babe? you hate me!" childe bawled, dramatically draping his hand against his forehead. "didn't know that you are such an ice queen. i think im going to get a frostbite from your gaze of hatred and bullying," he started to frown, eyes pretending to water.

he's so dramatic. you sighed deeply, snaking your arms around him. he burrowed his head into your shoulder, soaking up the attention you're giving him, "i apologize, my blizzard babe, i'm trying to win the competition."

childe's jaw dropped, "YOU SAID A CHEESY NICKNAME???? i can't believe youre getting into the christmas spirit." he silently cheered as you retorted,

"and no one will believe you that i did."

"fuck."

#vidia's 23 xmas event #astronetwrk #genshin impact fanfics #gender neutral reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #childe fanfic

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xetswan · 2 months

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Unknowing- Florida

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[One] [Two] [Three]

Warnings: a little spicy?

Learning to be a hybrid was... in less than two words; different. I don't use my werewolf ability at all.

But having that in me I can sense more than I ever have before. Hunting is something new as well. I can see better in the dark. The taste was more bearable- speaking of taste I can eat human food again too.

Now when I eat in front of Charlie it's not tasting like sand anymore. I can go out in the sun as well, I don't sparkle like the others.

I'm still immortal, I still need to drink blood to survive and not get thirsty. My abilities are enhanced. I can take energy from electronics now, and plant-life.

Getting back to school, everyone was curious about where I was, having to tell them I had to get surgery done in a different state. Angela was the most worried, and concerned. Jessica acted like she cared but we all know how she really felt.

Today, I decided to sit at lunch before Jasper and Alice joined me. "My fellow students. Cool, right? Wow, okay, right? We are the future. Anything is possible... if you just believe." Mike reads out loud as he is writing on what Jessica should say since she's valedictorian. "Nice." Angela mumbles, not really paying attention.

He rips the page from his notebook. "Blah, blah, blah... Perfect. And you got yourself a speech." He hands the page to her.

"No, this will be my speech when I want everyone to throw their diplomas at my head. So... Thank you." She crumpled the paper, tossing it at him.

"Ya gotta embrace the cliches, Jess." Mike tells her.

"They have the bread and butter of all valedictorians." Eric chimes in. "And that is why you are not valedictorian. And Jess doesn't need cliches. Her speech is gonna be epic." Angela hypes up her close friend.

"Epic? It'll change lives." Jessica grins, and after that Alice and Jasper abruptly appear, carrying food trays as if they're going to eat them.

They sit on either side of me. Jasper kissing my temple. "I decided to throw a party." Alice announces with a huge grin.

"After all, how many times are we gonna graduate high school?" Jasper asks in a teasing tone that only Bella, Edward, Alice and I are going to understand. Edward and I stifle a smile.

"A party? At your place?" Angela questions. "I've never seen your house." Jessica says. I lean my head onto Jasper's shoulder. "No one's ever seen their house." Eric points out.

"I have." I raise my hand a little bit, Eric and Jessica give me a look and I chuckle. "Another party, Alice?" Edward looks at her.

"It'll be fun." She assures them.

"Yeah, that's what you said last time." Bella comments, I give her a dirty expression, reaching over to smack her arm. She says ow and I quietly give her a "what the fuck is wrong with you?" before looking back at my girlfriend who is currently freezing, having a vision. Luckily no one is noticing.

"Well cool, that's really uh... normal of you. What time?" She doesn't answer. "Dress code?" Still nothing from her. "Bring anything? Cheetos?"

I shake her shoulder a little bit, "Wake up, Alice." Edward speaks up. "She hasn't been getting much sleep lately, senior jitters." Jasper covers for her, which I'm proud of him for talking more to everyone.

Getting his thirst under control.

Alice wakes from her vision. She gives me a worried expression.

"Oh, babe, can you come with me to your car? I left something." I ask her with a sweet smile. She looks taken back but us three get up and leave the table. I glance back to Edward who gives me a small nod.

"What did you see?" I questioned her as we walked out of the doors of the school. "I- You can't tell Bella. Edward doesn't want her to know." She starts, I nod my head. Edward's been protecting her. It's been a little extreme but Bella's stubborn so I appreciate him for it. "Okay." I motion for her to continue.

"Before I do, babe is new." She mentions what I said earlier. I shrug, holding back a smile. "It kind of just left my mouth. It was too late to go back on it." I mutter. I then hear a dean start walking to the doors, cutting her off before she can say anything else. "Let's go to the car." I tell them, we hurriedly head over to the car before anyone sees.

"It was brief, it has something to do with Victoria and newborn vampires." She says, holding her head as she remembers everything. I let out a breath, I wasn't scared about Victoria anymore.

This might come across as cocky but I have every right to be. "This weekend, she's going to try something. Do you think you would be alright going to Florida with your sister and Edward?" Alice looks up at me, something that I could never get used to.

Another thing that's changed in my transformation is my height. Being 5'8 now, closer to Jasper. Also having a muscular build.

"If it's to protect my sister, of course." I cross my arms, glancing down at her then to Jasper who's smiling at me. "What?" I furrow my brows.

"Nothing." He chuckles, the bell rings and I let out a sigh. "You think Edward will let me take his ability for this test?" I jokingly ask them as we go back inside the school.

"He might if you coerce him." Alice laughs, holding on to my arm. My next class is with him so I actually could if I wanted to. "Might lecture you about it." Jasper disagrees, I press my lips together.

"Shall we see?" I smirk, we stop in front of my class. "We'll see you after class, Darling." Jasper playfully rolls his eyes, both of them waving as they walk to their own class.

I enter the class, noticing Edward already staring at me. I grin, going over to the table we sit next to each other at.

"No." Is the first thing he says. "What?" I act as if I don't know what he means. "You're not taking my ability."

"What do you mean?" I raise a brow, acting confused. "Don't play dumb." He scoffs, but I can tell he finds it amusing.

"I don't know why you're so accusatory. I would never want to use your ability so I could cheat on this test and get an A." I put my hands up defensively, getting out a pencil for the test.

"You're so subtle." He says, then as the class begins the teacher has a student pass out the papers. Edward puts his hand in front of me, tapping the table three times.

A smile grows on my face. The tapping means he's letting me use his energy. He used to do it before I had to go through the transformation. No one knew because everyone thought I was getting better.

He obviously knew I didn't want to worry anyone. Edward's the reason I didn't have to go through it sooner than I wanted.

Two papers are placed on our table, I give one to him.

"So, what was that at school? What did Alice see?" Bella questions Edward and I as we enter the Sheriff's station. "Nothing. Something about Jasper. It was innocuous." Edward lies, my sister glances up at me. I nod, agreeing with her boyfriend.

"I know you know what she saw. Tell me." She demands from him. "It was nothing." He continues.

"You looked worried." Bella points out. "Just that everyone would notice how strange Alice is." He comes up with a cover up. "I think that ship sailed long ago." I cleared my throat, shaking my head at her.

We all look at Charlie who subtly gestures for us to keep our distance. "I wonder what's wrong." Edward says.

"There's someone missing in Seattle, over a year ago. Charlie is doing what he can, but... Do you know something about this?" Bella quizzes suddenly.

"We've been tracking the situation in Seattle for a while. Unexplained disappearances, killings... If the situation gets more conspicuous, the Volturi will step in." Edward explains, I cross my arms, remembering them asking me if I could use Alice's ability to see more.

Using the other's abilities with my situation, we've learned I can experience more enhanced usages. I can barely get anything though.

"If they go to Seattle, they can come here. They can see I'm still human." Bella worriedly expresses. "We won't get that far. But we'll go to Seattle if we have to." He reassures her concern.

"I'll fax these down first thing." I hear Charlie say.

"Thank you." The older couple walks off, he then approaches us.

"Hey you two." He does a short wave.

"Hey." We say almost in unison. "Are you guys ready for dinner?" He asks, I nod my head as Bella verbally answers him. He puts a picture into his case. I take a peak seeing the name and face; Riley.

As we stand there I feel the tension between Edward and Charlie. "It is still just us three, right?" He questions.

"Yeah, I'm just dropping them off. See you later." He gently passes my sister, but before he gets far he stops. "Oh... Bella. My parents wanted to remind you about the... Airline tickets you got for your birthday." Edward refreshes her memory.

"What airline tickets?" Dad asks. "A round trip ticket to see Mom in Florida." She says.

"Wow, that was generous."

"And it expires soon, they say you might wanna use it this weekend." Edward mentions, eyeing me quickly, not even able to be catched by Bella and Charlie. "Well, I can't just drop everything and go."

"It might be your last chance to see her before you graduate." I can tell that sentence hits Bella a certain way. "Well. It might not be a bad idea. Get you both out of the town for a couple days, get some distance." The last part was directed to Edward.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind seeing mom... As long as you use the companion ticket." Bella then turns to her boyfriend, I suck at my bottom lip trying my best not to laugh at our dad's facial expression.

"Wait, three tickets? Super, that makes me really happy." The sarcasm in his voice almost made me lose it.

Before leaving for Florida Alice and Jasper took me out for a date. Kind of? We went to our usual spot in the woods, sitting on a blanket. "What's all this for?" I question, sitting between them as usual.

"Just wanted to make you feel special before you left." Alice smiles, kissing my lips catching me off guard. "Mm, alright." I lay my head back on the boulder behind us.

"I feel like this is to talk about something serious." I call them out.

"It really isn't, love." Jasper lays a hand on my thigh. "We just want to spend time with you, it feels like it's been a while since we've been able to really be alone." Alice chimes in. Then I lifted my head, her tone of voice felt different.

"Mm, yeah?" I hum out, realizing how close they really are now.

"Tonight is gonna be all about you, Darling." Jasper takes my hand, sliding it into his as he then kisses it softly.

Alice comes closer to my face, I lift my free hand to the back of her head and roughly smash my lips upon hers. I feel Jasper's lips lead up to my neck.

I feel my face warm up intensely. I feel Alice bite my bottom lip and I let out a low growl in response, laughing at her antics.

Jasper was still attacking my neck as Alice and I were making out.

It's been a while since we've gotten to do anything. All the drama of our weird lives we live.

I'm not going to give too many details of the night.. Just know the sun was out when it was over.

"Aren't you two going to miss this? Don't you just feel the vitamin D soaking up in your pores?" Renee questions us, we both told her our plans after graduation.

She thinks that Bella's going to the University of Alaska. And I'm going with Jasper and Alice to the country of Europe to travel mine's not exactly a lie though. Right now we sit in the sun, lying in lounge chairs that are pushed tightly together.

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss this." Bella admits. "I was never one for the sun." I comment, our mom sighs out a small snicker. "I remember." She smacks my knee in a playful manner.

"You know, colleges in Florida are a lot sunnier. I'm just saying Bella, if you go to the University of Alaska... I'm never gonna see you." Renee frowns, attempting to change my sister's mind about the Alaska thing.

Renee is excited about my traveling, I told her she could join every now and then when we first got here. She takes our moms hand. "They have a really great science program."

"You mean Edward program." She nudges Bella who smiles, looking inside the house. Edward was sitting in a chair with a view of Bella, offering a small wave to her then continuing back to a conversation with Phil who was lying on the couch.

"The way he watches you... It's like he's willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something. Have you noticed that [Name]?" She points out to Bella and then looks at me. I just shrug my shoulders in response. "Is that a bad thing?"

"It's an intense thing. You're different with him. If he moves, you move. Like magnets." Renee tells Bella, not upset about it."I don't know, we're just... In love." Bella doesn't exactly know what to say.

"I get it. I just want to make sure you're making the right choices for you. You know, cause you're the one who's gonna have to live with them." She's being a mom which is understandable, if only she knew what the both of us really have to deal with. Bella takes the information in though.

Our mom notices her in her own head so she changes the subject. "Alright, enough with the heavy." She reaches under her chair and pulls up two large boxes.

"Mom." Bella starts. Renee places one on both our laps. "Congratulations, my girls." She clasps her hands together. "I didn't want you to spend your money." Bella frowns.

"I didn't, come on." She rushes us. "Thank you, mom." I smile at her. "Open it before you thank me." She motions for me to get to it. We open the box to find quilts, we unfold it and see what they're made of.

"Are these all our old trip T-shirts?" Bella grins, shocked by our gift. "I saved them all. I thought they'd make a good quilt. To keep you warm in Alaska. And you warm wherever you travel if needed." She tells us both. "Remember this one? Ensenada." She points to one of the shirts on Bella's quilt that's in a different place on mine. "The snake pit." Bella nods.

"Yep. But this one is my favorite. Here..." She points to the one on mine. "The three-headed lobster in Maine." I comment. "This is amazing." Bella hypes up the gift.

"No, honey. I'm glad you both like it. I just figured, you know, when you two get older, have kids. We can add to it. Maybe go visit... the world's largest catsup bottle or something." She explains the gift. Both of us go quiet. She wraps us both in the quilts. "Oh... I'm glad you like it." She smiled sweetly. Bella hugs Renee tightly.

My chest tightens, knowing this could be Bella's last time, Bella waves to me to join so I place the Quilt down and join in the hug. I feel my mom's arm squeeze my back to bring me closer.

"I just thought, you should have a little piece of me, up there in Alaska, and wherever your heart desires, [Name]." She says, I back away from the hug.

"Mom." Bella begins. "Yeah."

"I miss you." She says truthfully. "Oh, honey. I miss you, too." I could tell she was surprised from Bella's emotional state but continued to hug her.

I call Alice and Jasper every like three hours to check in with everything.

I could tell Bella was getting nosey so when I did it I went to the ocean to have a walk or outside where Bella couldn't hear what I was saying.

Everyone, including the wolves, are chasing after Victoria now.

Masterlist

A&J M.L.

Taglist: if you want to be added lmk!

@stevenandmarcslove

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@l3ejm

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@marit332

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dancing-with-the-madmen · 2 years

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Okay, so I'm a dick about spoons

I’m not, actually. A good hostess knows that her first priority is the comfort of her guests, so if someone uses the wrong spoon? NBD. If someone else starts being a dick about it? You find a way to shut that shit down post haste and redirect the feast of reason and the flow of soul.

What I AM a dick about is brazen hypocrisy. And as I was rewatching and taking screenshots for Nefarious Purposes, I happened to pause on this, which (setting aside the fact that forks weren't in popular use at all in Northern Europe and North America until the end of the 1700s, much less fancy types for different purposes) feels like an easter-egg for etiquette nerds from the set-dressers:

Like, poor Ed. He never stood a chance.

But that’s not his fault; he could have been schooled in the proper use of flatware from birth and still would have been stymied by this mess. There are pieces from AT LEAST 10 different silverware sets here, and practically nothing is in the right place to facilitate any sort of reasonable progression through a meal. Also? There are just so, SO many duplicates.

A 12-course meal should go: hors-d'oeuvres, amuse-bouche, soup, appetizer, salad, fish, main course (usually a red meat or game meat dish), palate cleaner (sorbet), second main course (usually a fowl dish), cheese course, dessert, and end of the meal dessert (often with coffee to promote digestion)

Starting left to right, we’ve got: A - Dinner knife. Should be directly to the right of the plate. It COULD be part of the service to his left, but even if that’s the case, that means not everyone has the same number/type/placement of implements, and that the spacing of guests is too close to properly accommodate all the place settings, so I’m going to assume everything on camera is meant for Ed.

B - Butter knife. Belongs on the bread plate.

C - Soup spoon. Belongs as the outermost spoon on the right side of the plate.

D - Place spoon. Belongs to the left of the soup spoon on the right of the plate.

E - Seafood mallet. I can’t really find anything about where this goes in a place setting, and I’ve only used one where crabs or lobster were the main/only course. My instinct is to say it should be in the amuse-bouche spot (outer right, save 1) with the lobster fork in the corresponding spot on the left of the plate, but I could be wrong.

F - Fruit fork. Fruit is served at the end of the meal. This one goes closest to the plate on the left side. G - Oyster fork. Yes, hors d’oeuvres come first, but this is the only fork that goes on the right of the plate. Thanks for playing.

H - Escargot fork. Ok, the fuck are they serving at this meal? You’ve got 12 courses. You pick ONE item for each course. Based on the silverware so far, we’re going heavy on the hors d’oeuvres. At least it’s on the correct side of the plate?

I - Salad fork. A new course? Be still my beating heart. And yeah, it’s in the right place.

J - Dinner fork. Also a new course, and also in the right place. Will wonders never cease.

K - A FUCKING TERRAPIN FORK. Oh - you gonna serve a chunky broth AFTER your main course? That’s an appetizer, you amateurs. You fools!

L - Escargot tongs. Sure. Why not there.

M - Fish fork. Like, you’re not even in the vicinity of the right place for this (to the right of the plate, in between the salad and dinner forks).

N - Ooops. There’s the lobster fork we were missing earlier.

O - That’s just an oyster fork from a different silverware service. If you were trying to pass it off as a dessert fork, those have 4 tines with a bar that transects the tines.

P - That’s just a butter knife from a different silverware service. Were you trying to pass it off as a cheese knife? Too bad that in a formal dining setting you have a special fork that does double duty for cutting and spearing cheese.

Q - Demitasse spoon. Coffee’s for closing the meal. This goes above the plate.

R - Sugar tongs. Those go with the sugar cubes in the sugar bowl, not at each individual place setting.

S - Possibly another terrapin fork? It’s hard to see, but whatever it is, it doesn’t go there.

So fuck Gabriel and Antoinette, for the provincial bumpkins that they are. Trying to just dump the contents of several silverware drawers on the table and call it culture so they can laugh at my boy? Go die in a fire. Oh, wait.

#ofmd #our flag means death #set dressing #the FUCKING spoons

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

Note

Congratulations!

Can you do “Why do you need my approval?” W/Santiago Garcia?

Thanks!

100 Follower Celebration: Don’t Be Stupid

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader

Warnings: Aggressive and Possessive Santi, language, allusions to creepy older men, bad Spanish because I’m a no sabo

A/N: Hello angels!!! I know that this isn’t my typical bread and butter but… this is my guilty pleasure and I had soooooo much fun writing this. A couple of housekeeping measures… I am a no sabo kid. To my non Latinx friends that means that while I am Latinx, and did speak Spanish as a primary language for the first 5 years, I was moved to another part of the country and lost my ability to speak Spanish. So I’m trying to learn it again. It’s hard. For my Spanish speaking sisters and brothers, give me so grace, because I am trying. Secondly, I think I have two more 100 follower Drabbles, and then we can finish Interviews for New Beginnings and the other requests I got! Love you all so much my darlings!! Have a wonderful dayyyyy - Mo 💕

Summer nights in Florida were always far too hot. It was the price of living in paradise. The heat of the afternoon's sun baked into the pavement and stucco walls now radiated back onto your thinly covered body. The surrounding water made the air far too wet, and immediately upon going into the outside air did you feel the thin film of sweat and honeyed air cling to your face, arms and legs. Summer nights were brutal in heaven.

But you would never leave it. Not for a million dollars. And neither would your Delta Force boys.

It was on these brutal nights where you tried to beat the heat and the stickiness by going out to the dive bars in Ybor City, the smaller and rowdier younger sister of Tampa. The crowds were easy to get lost in, and the music was thumping no matter where you stood; which was just the medicine you and your friends needed on a night like this.

In the back corner of such a bar, you were squished between Frankie and Santi, trying to fit in the massive and unruly Ben and Will to this too small table. "Whats good boys!? And baby girl, looking beautiful as always." Ben laughed out with a toothy grin. He was always all too happy to be with you all. And if a night out also involved a couple drinks, he was more in paradise than usual.

You laughed mirthlessly at his flirtatious jokes. He always threw one your way whenever he got the chance. You only wished that Pope would do the same.

Though you met the rest of the boys when you joined the Delta Force, you had actually known Santi since middle school. Your mom moved you both to the apartment next to his back in the 6th grade. When the creepy older men were harassing you on the way down to the school bus, Santi stepped in. And from that day on you never walked to the bus, or rode the bus alone. He kept the creeps and bullies away. You helped him with his math homework. Perfect partners. Best friends. A perfect pair. And God how you were in love with him.

You both had had your flings and boyfriends and girlfriends. But they all came and went. You were there and he was there when it eventually went to out the window. Some times you wondered if maybe he felt the same ache in his chest as you. But you pushed it to the side. He never saw you that way. He never would. You were best friends. A sister to him. It would never be more. And it never bothered you until recently. Maybe it was because you were getting older. Maybe it was because your girlfriends were having babies and in serious and solid relationships. Yet you were still here. Drinking barely cool enough beer with the Delta Force ding bats. You loved them. You loved them more than life and would and have put your life on the line for them. But you were getting older. You wanted to be seen as a woman. Not just another teammate.

Santi smirked and ruffled your head like a child, messing up the hair you had corralled into a pony tail, "Chiqitita muñeca is pissy tonight. Heat is getting too much for her."

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away. Frankie looked up from his ever present hat, "Pissed because she is stuck next to you and you won't let her up. Querida vamos. Let's get you another drink. This white boy at the bar has been giving you eyes all night and I wanna put him out of his misery."

Benny and Will whooped and laughed and your eyes widened, "Fish stop no he's not."

Frankie stood up, stretching out his long limbs and shaking his head, "He is. C'mon you haven't been putting yourself out there and it's dumb."

Frankie was right. You hadn't. In the past 3 years you hadn't even gone on a date because you were hoping, HOPING, that Santi would maybe make a move. That he would do something. But he hadn't. And you were tired of waiting. Frankie pulled you by the hand out of the booth and out of Santi's orbit. You smoothed out your cotton sundress, turning to the rest of the boys in the booth you hold yourself out to be appraised, "Yay or nay? Do I look gross?"

Will gave a thumbs up while Beni gave theatrical worshipping bows, "Hot sexy hot sexy hot sexy. Go get em tiger."

You noticed that Pope hadn't said anything, you turned to him waiting, "Pope??"

Eyes stern and cold he didn't even look up from his beer, "Why do you need my approval?"

You stomach dropped, and your face crumpled. Frankie rolled his eyes, "Coño la madre, don't listen to Pope you know how he gets when he's PMSing. You look nice. C'mon white boy is waiting. "

White boy was indeed waiting for you. His name was Connor. Clean cut. Not a Florida native which you clocked before you even made it up there. Worked in financing in downtown. Loved the Florida lifestyle but was still getting used to it. Super polite. Cute. And wanted to get to know you and buy you drinks and call you pretty. Soon any insecurity you had about Pope was miles away.

Frankie was pleased with himself, and brought back a round of beers to the table. Will and Benny were snickering in their seats, and Santi... well... Santi was fuming.

"What the fuck was that Fish?"

Smirking, he took a sip of his drink, "Que paso? No te queires chiqitita si?"

"Cabron, tu sabes quiero ella."

Benny cut in, "Hey hey hey. Don't let the gringos out man! Pope why are you getting pissed off? Nothing happened?"

Will spoke up, "He's pissed because Frankie basically delivered Chiqi to khakis boy over there."

Benny shrugged, "And??"

Will turned to him, looking as if Benny had grown another head, "And... Pope has been in love with Chiqi this entire time?? And Frankie knows that?? Benny did you get too many punches to the head or something?"

Benny’s eyes widen. The pieces fitting together. Will rolled his eyes, but Santi couldn’t care less. He was enraged with Fish. And Fish didn’t even care!! Fish knew that Santi had been in love with you for years. That he wanted you more than anything or anyone. That he had purposefully cut in on past relationships to keep you to himself. That he had building the courage to finally ask you to be his and only his. And yes here comes Fish. Delivering you to some… to some guy at a bar?

Frankie finished his beer and looked into his best friend’s eyes, “Hermano… I love you man. But you’re being a little bitch. No in fact you’ve been a bitch. Chiqi has been free and available for three years and you’ve done nothing about it. She’s clearly head over heels for you and you have been tiptoeing around it for no reason. You’re stupid. Chiqi deserves more. And if you’re angry about it you can go fix it.”

Frankie held his arm opened, lighting the way to you. He saw you laughing, your smile bright, things that he wanted to reserve for him and him alone. The things he had said were for him. The moment he saw Khaki’s hand brush up on your thigh, he saw red. He downed the rest of the beer that Frankie had gotten for him, and pushed his way out of the booth. The whoops and laughs from his brothers faded into the buzz behind him as he made his way to you.

“So… if it’s alright with you, I’d really like to take you out to dinner. Maybe next week?”

Connor was cute you thought. Not the same breathtaking handsomeness that Santi had, but Connor looked sweet. He looked honest. He would do for a boyfriend. You smiled, about to accept and give him your number, when Santi shoves himself in between you and Connor. “Oye Chiqi. Come dance.”

Connor gets up to look at you, “Hey man she’s with me relax.”

Santi turned around, “She’s not actually she came with me.”

You pushed Santi’a shoulder, “What the hell bro? Connor I’m sorry. This is Santi, we grew up together and he’s stupid protective and drunk. Santi can you please go back with Frankie I’m talking to someone.”

Without looking away from Connor Santi answers, “mm not drunk. I’m just making clear what’s mine.”

Connor looks at you and then Santi. Before he sheepishly smiles, “It was nice meeting you. I hope you guys figure things out.”

Connor walks away and you feel the rage building inside you, as Santi triumphantly turns back to you. You shove Santi’s shoulder, barely moving him, “You’re such a fucking asshole Pope. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Dance with me.”

“I’m not fucking dancing with you.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls you to the dance floor despite your protests, your skin burning in shock and anger where his hand clutches your wrist. You make it to the center, him hungrily grasping at your waist. You’re pissed off but also so confused at this change in temperature. Santi won’t stop looking at you. Those dark lashes attempting to hypnotize you back into his orbit. He brings his mouth to your ear, “When’s the last time you danced with me Chiqi?”

You scoffed, but brought your arms to wrap around his neck as he tugged you closer, chest to chest, “Senior prom. After Michael Vazquez left me for Torrence Sheltzer. And I stepped on your toes all night.”

He laughed, “Michael was such an idiot.”

You stay like that. The bass coursing through your body, right in time with the pounding of your heart against Santi’s chest. He was always a good dancer. Too good of a dancer, it was almost obscene the way he had you moving against him. You don’t know how long you had been spinning, and you had to rest your head on his shoulder because of how light headed you became.

“You shouldn’t have done that Pope. He was nice.”

“He was a wimp. Wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“What you’re going to chase away any man who comes up to me? I’m tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone. You have me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He pulled your face off his shoulder to make you look in his eyes, “I do know. And i know what I said. You have me. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Either from the smoke, the alcohol, or the embarrassment, “Santi stop being stupid. You’re being mean. You know I love you and you’re making fun of me.”

He presses his dry lips to the tear that escapes your eye, then puts his forehead to yours, “I’m not Chiqi. I’m not. Chiqi I’ve loved you since the 8th grade. I’ve hated every one of your little boyfriends and I’ve coveted you for years. I’m not joking.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything? Why didn’t you come get me when I was right here?”

The tears fall more now. And he keep kissing your cheeks to remove them, “Because I’m an asshole. I’m a fucking asshole who was too afraid of you saying no. Too afraid of when you left. I didn’t want to lose you. But I can’t take it anymore Chiqi. I can’t take another boyfriend. I’m selfish. I’m a selfish asshole. I want you for myself. I want you to yell at me and call me stupid as long as it means you never leave my place and you never leave my side. Cmon Chiqi…. Let me call you mine.”

You stared at him. He was telling the truth. He was being raw and real and you knew that this wasn’t some act. This was Santi in his rawest form. He wanted you. You brought your hand around to squeeze his cheeks together, “I want you to take me on a date. A real one. Not the bar or the bowling alley with the boys. I want dinner that you pay for. And flowers. And for you to wear a real shirt.”

He shakes your hand off and smiles, “Tomorrow night. I take you to The Colombia. I pick you up. With roses.”

“Do I get to order flan?”

He smiles even wider, “Only if you let me feed it to you like those stupid romance books you read.”

You shove him and he laughs and pulls you closer, “Kiss me and seal the deal Chiqitita. C’mon don’t be mad. Kiss me and tell me you’re mine.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, making him work for your kiss. You finally relent, pulling him in for the best kiss ever. The best kiss of your life. Until tomorrow’s

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #Santiago ‘pope’ Garcia #santiago garcia x you #Santiago Garcia x y/n #oscar isaac #Oscar Isaac Characters #100 follower celebration

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the1975attheirverybest · 5 months

Text

Being Funny In A Foreign Language

Chapter 6- All I Need To Hear

Read all previous chapters here

Warnings: mentions of smut

——

Somewhere, in a tour bus, on a dark American highway, Matty stirred from a dreamless sleep.

He rubbed his eyes, turning to lay on his side. He the top of his duvet was cold. He shimmied his way out of cocoon that he’d created in his sleep, his feet finally touching the floor. He stood there for a moment, wondering if he should run into the restroom first or have coffee….coffee won.

“Yo,” he attempted, but his voice was too low. Mark noticed him anyway.

“You’re awake!”

“And you….are….for some reason?” Matty scratched his head, his eyes squinting to adjust to the bright light outside of his bedroom.

“Just couldn’t sleep.” Mark shrugged.

“Right. Sorry, you always say you have a hard time with the movement.” Matty cocked his head. “It’s why you should try drugs.”

Mark chuckled. “I think I’ll stick to my herbal tea. Thanks.”

Matty threw himself down on the couch, laying his head back and closing his eyes. “Fuckkkkk” he groaned. “Think I’m still asleep, actually.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get it. Maybe. In a moment. Once my legs have woken up properly.”

Mark smiled, disregarding Matty’s words, he stood up and poured him a cup of coffee. Peaking in the small fridge for a moment, “you hungry?”

“You don’t have to take care of-“

“So that’s a yes then. Is toast alright? Who am I asking…you like anything to do with bread…”

Matty smiled, touched by how well Mark knew him. He peaked out the blinds, into the pitch black of night.

“Where are we?”

Mark stopped buttering the piece of bread in his hand and flicked his wrist. “Interstate.”

“Which one?”

“I75”

“So…." Matty tried to guess the schedule “we’re on our way to Charlotte?”

“Columbus, Ohio.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Ohio.”

“Eat.” Mark handed him his coffee and piece of toast.

“Thanks, man.”

Matty ate in silence, listening to the sounds of his own chewing, and evading Mark’s curious gaze. He knew Mark had something on his mind. He also had an idea of what it might be.

“What?!” Matty eventually said, swallowing dry.

“I haven’t said anything.”

“But you want to. So, just- go- ahead and say it!”

“Alright.” Mark inched closer towards him, clearing his throat and looking directly into Matty’s eyes. “How are you?”

Fuck. A loaded question. Matty found it impossible to look away, now that Mark had locked eyes on him. He couldn’t lie. It’s all over his face. So; instead, he shrugged, picking up his coffee mug and sipping on it, just to have something to bust himself with.

Mark said absolutely nothing, simply continuing to look into Matty’s eyes with a gentle smile.

The silence was unbearable, Matty eventually spoke just to make it stop. “I’m- im….fine. You know. I’m always fine. It’s all good.”

He pushed the plate away from him, then spoke again. “Am I- like- feeling the best I’ve ever felt? No. But- you know. What about it? It’s not like I’m fuckin suicidal or anything….and, I’m happy the boys have all got places to be and all that cuz….could you imagine if the whole band was getting all this…’backlash’? I don’t even like that word ‘backlash.’”

Matty paused to catch his breath. His own words sinking into his mind. “But yeah…it does feel a bit odd. There’s a lot happening….of course, they know. George’s been texting me. You wanna see the memes?” Matty giggled, recalling their latest text exchange. “I’ll go get my phone.”

Matty reached for his phone at the charging station, plopping down on the bed, scrolling through several unread messages from a variety of friends and acquaintances to get to George’s name. His finger hover over Amelia’s name for a moment. He opened their text chain and typed a quick “hiya. Checking in. You left before we could talk about things. Wanted to make sure you’re feeling okay about it all 😊” he sighed, reading his own words back, he felt gross. Perhaps he could rephrase things? He thought about it for a quick second and replaced the emoji with a “xx.” Then, rethinking it again, he deleted the “xx” and ended the text with a full stop. He sat there, staring at the “send” button. Why hasn’t she checked in with him though? His mind couldn’t help but go over every single torturous detail of the last time that he’d seen her. Had he done anything wrong? Had he failed to make her happy? To follow her orders? He was a bit too stubborn with his begging when she told him she didn’t want him cumming. Did she not want him to? Did he break the rules? The entire night played in his head on a loop. He remembered every moment. Her hitting his face, repeatedly. Him feeling it everywhere, from his what to his toes, begging for more. Being on his knees. Her sweet touch on his pulsing, red face. Her fingers in his mouth, on his crotch, her expression of concern once he’d lost balance and landed on the floor after she withdrew her hand. Though she sounded concerned, she still chose to pick his head off the floor by the roots of his hair. Something about that combination excited him immensely. Still, if he was being honest with himself, he kind of hoped she’d lean down and kiss him. Or say something to indicate that she knew how badly he wanted her. But she didn’t.

The pain was good. Him ending up naked and at her mercy wasn’t where he thought the night would go. But he did push her buttons. It hurt so much. And it felt so good. He loved it. Loved feeling that burning on his skin and knowing that she was the cause of it. But he wished he knew if she liked it too. The entire time, he longed to hear a word of encouragement from her. He recalls her pausing to give his cheek a quick kiss once he’d offered to count. She did actually tell him he was doing good. But how sincere was she? Was it just a platitude? Like a “thanks” you say when someone hands you the tv remote or asks if you want anything from the store? Did she know that he liked taking the pain for her? To please her? To show her that he would do anything for her ? Surely she would have said something if she’d appreciated his suffering. Once they’d stopped, he was sure she’d scoop him up in her arms and tell him how good he’d been for her. That she was happy he’d done as she’d told him. Maybe make him promise to try to eat better tomorrow. Or give him the chance to apologize better. Sure, she’d helped clean him up afterwards, but that’s the bare minimum. She did let him cling to her and bury his face in her for a bit. But he’d wanted more. Was he greedy for wishing that he could lay on top of her or be enveloped by her or feel her skin directly on his? She does have a boyfriend. One that she’d offered to break up with. He was the one to stop her. He told her not to. It’s selfish, but, that night, he really wished that she hadn’t left him alone in the room. He needed her so much. He still does. They did have sex, so, isn’t it arbitrary to draw the line at staying afterwards? Or did they even have sex? She whipped him bloody and then held his hand as he experienced his first orgasm in a long time. And then he cried like an idiot. Does that even count as sex? Fuck. The most sexual contact he’s getting these days and he’s not even sure if it really is sexual contact. What has become of him?

The welts on his ass, sending pain through him every time that he sat down or moved a bit too quickly, were a constant reminder of his failure to make her happy. she hadn’t even called or texted to ask if he was healing up nicely or if he needed anything. Where had he gone wrong? Should he have offered to get her off after? Perhaps. It wasn’t fair that she never got to cum. He just didn’t have the foresight to think in that moment. He wasn’t sure his brain was functioning at all. Everything was fuzzy and unclear. Yet again, his thoughtlessness had let her down. Even when he was doing all this for her, he still managed to make the experience about himself and his pleasure. He hadn’t meant to. It was all supposed to be for her. But somehow he got it wrong.

He deleted the text that he’d been composing, replacing it with a new one. “I’m so sorry, Amelia.” Sorry for what? Sorry is what you say if you accidentally bump into someone or if you reach for their spoon at a restaurant. What kind of words could he use for being a useless human being? What gives him the right to even reach out? Clearly, she hasn’t messaged him because she didn’t want to hear from him. He shouldn’t bother her or remind her of what a disappointment he’s been. He deleted the apology and swiped out of the text chain, finally finding George’s name.

“Okay; here it is.” He stood in the doorway, choosing a selection of texts to show to Mark.

***

Three hours behind, in Los Angeles, Amelia struggled to fall asleep in the plush hotel bed that she shared with Joshua. She couldn’t stop seeing Matty every time that her eyes closed. She’d left him crying, in bed, in nothing but his underwear. After inflecting a disorienting amount of pain on his already exhausted body. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. He asked for it, even. Thanked her for it. He looked so beautiful wincing and smiling every time she’d hit him. He’d say ‘thank you’ and beg for more, unprompted. The dazed look in his eyes was clear proof that he wanted it just as much as she did. Though it broke her heart that he was all too eager to be punished, he’d been stoic and brave about it. Still, it was the thing that finally made him cum, so it couldn’t have been bad, right? Her heart shattered into pieces at the memory of his pained cries. He was overwhelmed. Scared to even experience pleasure. She couldn’t forget the way he’d helplessly squeezed her hand. As if begging for her to intervene. To implore his body to be less cruel on him. She wished she could help him but she didn’t know how. Did she have the power to slow things down? To heighten the pleasure and lessen the pain ? Shouldnt she know if that’s a power that she posses or not? Had she taken on a role that she’s woefully unprepared for?

she wondered if she’d gone too far. If he’d only gone along with it to make her happy. If she should’ve been gentler, slower. She remembers being on the receiving end of things like this. She never did it just to make Matty happy, though the knowledge that it pleased and amused him to hear her whimper and beg always made her excited to partake. She had no idea if he felt the same though; it never occurred to her to ask. She felt around the nightstand, in the dark, for her phone. The screen lit up, she checked it for any messages from him but there was nothing. She wished he were here right now. Wondered how he’s been doing since she’d left to get to this exhibit. Has he been eating? Sleeping? Is he feeling excited about seeing the boys again soon? About getting back onstage after a small break? He always had has smile on his face whenever he is up there. She’d missed that smile. All she could hope for was that doing his job would remind him that he wasn’t alone, that people all over the world love him, and that things do get better.

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fushic0re · 2 years

Text

─ 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐈𝐂𝐄, 𝐈❜𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆

𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗬𝗗 𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗡 𝗫 𝗙𝗘𝗠𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗘!𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 – “BEING A BITCH IS MY KINK, WHAT THE FUCK ELSE DID YOU THINK?”. In which you are the only thing Lloyd Hansen is scared of.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 – 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI. sociopathic and psychopathic behavior. murder. sexual themes. lloyd refers to himself as “daddy” once.

if you enjoyed this piece, please, please, please reblog it! the writing community is slowly dying out due to tumblr’s algorithm being ineffective and reblogging our fics is our bread and butter. support fic writers! ♡

“ARE YOU READY to order yet, ma’am?”

Your jaw twitched as your lips forced themselves into a dazzling smile.

“Just a couple of more minutes. My guest will be here shortly.” You purred. “I’d love another glass of Merlot though. Thank you, honey.”

The poor boy was a stutter riddled mess as he scampered back into the kitchen, tripping over his own feet like a newborn foal. You laughed softly to yourself before your expression fell. You didn’t need to check the time to know that Lloyd was extremely late. The notification center of your phone was barren; no text, call, nothing. Nothing to notify you of a possible delay. No, you sat in the middle of one of the finest French restaurants clad in one hundred percent silk all by your lonesome. Rummaging through your purse, you fished out your tube of lipstick and compact mirror for a touch up. Your boyish waiter was right back at your side, topping off your glass with a shy grin and flush cheeks at the sight of your plump puckered lips.

Just as your body picked up the minuscule shift in energy, you shut your compact. There in front of you sat Lloyd fucking Hansen with that stupid grin on his face.

“Hi, baby doll.” He spoke charmingly. “You look absolutely stunning, is that the dress I bought you?”

Narrowing your eyes with contempt, you crossed your arms across your chest.

“You’re late.”

Chuckling, he rose from his place in front of you and dragged the chair he once sat in with him and positioned it right next to you before seating himself once again. His muscled frame shuffled closer to yours until his chest was pressed against your side. Refusing to acknowledge him and still filled with simmering rage, you kept your gaze forward. Endeared at your behavior, your fiancé took your hand in his and began to dote on you.

“Oh baby, daddy’s sorry.” Lloyd cooed. “Some of these fuck knuckles really don’t wanna go down. I made them pay extra for keeping me from my woman.”

Excuses and buttery comments continued to spill from the man’s mouth. Rolling your eyes, you reached for your glass of wine and took a generous gulp.

“But on the bright side, we have this private dining area all to ourselves. How about I make it up to you before the main course gets here, pretty girl?” He whispered, that damn mustache tickling your skin as he began to press feverish kisses to your neck.

Lloyd stopped his ministrations when he glanced down at your hand in his, his lips turning down into a frown.

“Who made my woman chip her nails—”

Growing tired of hearing his voice, you snatched your hand back. Before Lloyd could protest, your hand darted in between his legs.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. The frown that grazed his face was replaced with a mischievous smirk.

“Princess,” He hummed. “If you missed me that much, all you had to do was say s— Jesus, fuck!”

With his balls literally in a vice grip, you finally turned to face him. Your deathly stare rivaled Medusa’s. It was only when he was caught in it that Lloyd Hansen felt fear. Pure, unfiltered fear.

“I hope you at least have progress for me to make up for your inability to follow through with simple tasks such as showing up on time.”

Lloyd hissed sharply; his eyes squeezed shut as your grip tightened.

“We got him to talk,” He panted. “We know where the drive is.”

“And where is it exactly, Lloyd?” You interrogated lowly, looming over him dangerously.

Sputters of nonsense fell from his lips, prompting you to constrict around him more.

“Did I hire an incompetent man, Lloyd?” You taunted, slithering a bare leg around one of his sensually. “Hmm?”

“N-No, ma’am,”

“Then answer my question or so help me God, Lloyd Hansen. Where is that drive?”

“London! It’s in a warehouse in London! The boys are extracting it as we speak!”

You exhaled deeply, shooting your man your best smile.

“Good boy.” You praised. “Get me that drive, Lloyd.”

“It’ll be on your desk by tomorrow morning.” He swore, his heart rate slowing down.

It was his turn to sigh with relief when his balls were released from your death trap. Your palm traveled from in between his legs to his broad chest. Nuzzling your nose against his cheek, you hummed with content at his answer.

“This shirt makes you look so sexy,” You whispered, pressing a kiss to his face, leaving a lipstick mark behind.

Lloyd, still too stunned to reciprocate your affection, released a satisfied grunt. Boy were you insane, but that’s exactly why he loved you so dearly. Upon first meeting you, Lloyd Hansen was equally as aroused as he was intimidated. You had heard everything about your subordinate. Afterall, word travels fast when you’re a sociopathic government weapon. There was nothing you loved more than a man who could get things done. Lloyd Hansen was all about getting things done. He was your prized possession, your secret weapon. He too knew this and lived for it.

Never in his life had he ever liked following orders. The man knew from the second he left his mother’s womb that he was destined to devour every weak, measly being in his way and dominate. It was natural instinct for Lloyd. He was an alpha. The monster in your closet that kept you in line. No one had ever challenged his primality without ending up in pieces buried six feet underground. That was, until you. You knew how to get him where you wanted him, how to grab his reigns and take over. Serving you came as naturally as killing.

And that was dangerous. You were dangerous.

He had found someone more demented, deranged, and crazed than him, of course he was bound to worship you with no limits. To prove his fealty in bloodshed. You were his Goddess.

“You’re paying for my manicure.” You murmured, scarlet lips traveling from his cheek to his neck.

“Who else was going to?” He teased.

“You did leave me waiting here,” You challenged. “Step it up, Lloyd, or someone else will.”

His thick brows furrowed, darkening his hard gaze at the threat.

“Like who, huh princess?”

You shrugged nonchalantly.

“The waiter is cute.”

Over the date night shenanigans, you unhitched your leg from around his and stood up. Finally getting a chance to look you over, Lloyd felt his groin stir in his designer slacks. The silk dress he had purchased looked just as heavenly wrapped around your body as he imagined it to look. The slope of your exposed back tempted him. He wanted to maul you, to leave his mark. You were his. No one else’s.

Before you could turn around to beckon him, the waiter entered your private room once more. And before he could take another step, two gun shots were fired to his chest. Spinning around on your Jimmy Choos, you met your lover’s intense gaze with pure adoration in yours.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x asian!reader #lloyd hansen #the grey man #asian!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Text

A Palomino Christmas

Jack Daniels x f!reader

|| Palomino universe oneshot, out of chronological order as I haven't finished the series yet. Can be read as a stand-alone. ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: You spend Christmas at the ranch with Jack. You thought the present you got him was inspired until you see him wearing it - the cowboy way.

Inspired by snowsuit anon and this adorable post (and a super cute nickname for a pony) sent to me by @aynsleywalker.

Warnings: !Ski suit action!, drinking, mention of food, gratuitous descriptions of the male bulge body, dirty talk, safe unprotected sex, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 4.5k

Dedicated to @guiltypleasure-girl who I'm so grateful to have made friends with this year and who, imho, draws the best Jack in all the lands. If you don't already, follow her art page @guiltypleasure-art for the most gorgeous fanart ❤️

It’s always busy in the Stateman’s main kitchen on Christmas morning. The smokey burn of firewood warms the cozy space as the radio blares holiday tunes. Poppy presides over the operations at the head of the table - everything is planned down to the T and everyone has a role.

On any other Christmas day, Jack would be her sous-chef, the one she relies on to keep everyone on schedule and in their place.

But alas, today is not any other Christmas day.

The normally put together cowboy ambles around the place like a headless chicken, leaving a trail of half-completed tasks in his wake. Tequila, in uncharacteristic discretion, follows two steps behind.

He turns off the tap that Jack’s left pouring into the already full kettle, draining the excess water and putting it on the boil.

There’s one slice of bread in the toaster, while another lies forgotten on the table, which Teak slides into the free slot and pushes down the lever.

Jack pulls a jar of pickles from the fridge unseeingly, putting it on the table and walking away in search of a mug under three sets of watching, worried eyes. Teak replaces it with his friend’s favourite strawberry jam without a word.

While the oblivious cowboy’s back is turned, Teak motions his hand and forth across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing nope emphatically at the occupants of the kitchen table.

On his cue, Poppy clears her throat and speaks up, ‘Jack, sweetie, why don’t you go check on the horses after your toast? The stable boys want to leave work early today after doing their morning rounds.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he answers absent-mindedly, staring down into the empty mug in his grasp as if he’s lost his train of thought.

At that very moment, the toaster pops and Jack practically jumps out of his skin, stepping on Jameson’s paw where he’s lying on his rug in front of the fire, prompting an indignant yelp from the border collie and winces from around the table.

‘Sorry boy,’ he apologises and picks up his toast - burning his fingers - and stumbling over his feet to set his plate down. ‘Mornin’,’ he nods to the others without really registering who’s there.

Jack proceeds to butter his toast with such singular focus that he doesn’t notice when Tequila fills his still empty cup with coffee, only to knock it over immediately when a phone buzzes and his hand flies out to grab his. Ginger and Poppy trade concerned looks as he jumps onto his feet with another apology, snatching a tea towel to clean up the mess.

Eggsy, on potato peeling duty on the other side of the table, isn’t so diplomatic. ‘You’re jumpier than Bambi this morning, cowboy.’

Jack grunts noncommittally and chews on his toast, not rising to the bait.

‘Don’t be so nervous mate, we promise we’ll be on our best behaviour.’

Teak snorts from the kitchen counter where he’s making his PBJ. ‘I don’t know about England, but around these parts, lying on Christmas day is frowned upon.’

Eggsy replies high-handedly, ‘Can’t speak for you, Tequila, but I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

Ginger chuckles as Teak sits down at the table with his sandwich. ‘Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it.’

Jack points a forceful finger at the boys, one after the other. ‘I swear to the baby Jesus Christ, if you two don’t behave yourselves, there will be hell to pay.’

Eggsy snickers. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Ol’ cowboy Jack falls heads over heels for a bird -’ he screeches when the coffee-soaked rag hits him in the face, which sends Teak into hysterical laughter. ‘Oi! What the fuck, man!’

Ignoring the ruckus, Jack dusts the crumbs from his hands and shrugs on his jacket, grabbing a thermos and filling it up with fresh coffee. With a hurried later, he strides out of the warmth of the kitchen and into the frigid morning air.

Thermos tucked under his arm, Jack rubs his palms together, warming his fingertips with his breath as snow crunches beneath his well-worn boots. The ranch is blanketed in thick snow, a picture-perfect postcard landscape as it is every Christmas. The morning mist has yet to burn off, but he can tell by the peek of blue through the clouds that it will be a fine day.

If your flight is on time, you should be on your way by now. He’d wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you insisted that there’s no point in him driving all the way there when you already know the way. Depending on the conditions, it shouldn’t be long until you arrive.

His list of chores isn’t long this morning - the stable boys will be on duty until lunchtime - but still, he wants to tick all the boxes before you get here. Striding into the heated stables, he says howdy to the grooms and whistles, smiling as dozens of faces appear at the doors, ears pointed forwards in attention, snickering and whinnying at him.

This never gets old.

‘Mornin’ ladies and gentlemen,’ he calls out, wandering down the stalls, rubbing a velvety nose here and pulling on a furry ear there. ‘Who’s ready to stretch their legs this fine mornin’, huh?’

Starting at the end of the stables, he unlatches Bourbon’s door and ushers him out of the stall, then crosses the aisle to let out Tanqueray, Champ’s elderly but still supremely poised Friesian, who clops leisurely towards the exit. Zig-zagging back and forth, Jack whistles, jostles and chats to the horses, all smartly dressed in warm rugs, as they file out down the corridor and into the courtyard for a bit of morning exercise while the stable boys mucked out their stalls.

‘No loitering, ma’am,’ says Jack sternly when Poppy’s mare, Pie, idles in the middle of the building. He gives her a firm pat on the rump to get her moving and whistles at one of the cheeky Shetland ponies who’s snuck into someone else’s stall. ‘Half-Pint! What did I say about stealing your friends’ treats? Shoo, now!’

The stables empty, the echoes of hooves on the concrete ground fading, with Scotch being one of the last to exit. Looping back to make sure there are no dilly-dalliers, Jack’s surprised to find the palomino, who would normally be leading the charge towards the grazing fields, still lingering at the barn doors.

‘Whatcha doin’, boy?’ he calls out.

Scotch tosses his head and steps to the side -

And you appear.

With the biggest grin, you run towards him and fly into his arms.

Your cheeks are wet, the spray of snow powder melting when it hits your skin. It drifts all around you as Scotch eats up the white ground, the thundering hooves muted by the soft cushion of the untouched, overnight snow. The mountain air is sweet and pure and stingingly cold, you can barely feel your face anymore - but it might just be from how hard you’ve been smiling.

You feel like you’re in the middle of a Christmas movie. The lush, green landscape you remember so well from your trip months ago is now all coated in wintry glory, but you still recognise the contours of the land and the mountains. It’s your first time in the saddle since - the whistle of the winds in your ear is a song you remember all the words to, the burn in your out-of-practice muscles all over a familiar old friend.

And you’re happy.

Slowing Scotch to an easy trot as you approach the end of the trail, your breath mists in front of your face as you look down over the ranch, a scene straight out of a classic snow globe, thin wisps of smoke drifting from the chimneys of the wooden lodges dotted across the property.

Gently manoeuvring the palomino to a halt and giving him a pat on the neck, you turn to smile at Jack as he walks up beside you on Whiskey. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’

‘Me too,’ he answers, warm eyes on you.

You give him a sidelong glance. ‘You’ve been here the whole time, cowboy.’

‘I know. I’ve missed you being here.’ He reaches over and pulls your gloved hand towards him, presses a kiss to the back. You want to shuck off the leather and cup his whiskered jawline in your palm, push the well-worn hat off and twine your fingers into his hair -

Later. There will be time for all that later, preferably in front of a roaring fireplace.

You break the moment with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. ‘Race you to the stables?’

Jack grins. ‘You’re on, darlin’.’

Christmas dinner is in the main lodge, which you didn’t use during your trip in the summer. The intimate space is exuberantly decorated in red and gold, a huge, freshly cut pine tree stands proudly by the antique fireplace, a merry fire burning. The table is beautifully laid, silverware immaculately polished and fine china sit alongside holidays-themed napkins. A magnificent feast lines the length of the mahogany dining table comfortably seating eight.

But any kind of decorum stops there.

As the hours tick by and bottles of wine and sherry are emptied, the meal has descended into what Jack warned you in advance as ‘typical Kingsman chaos’. According to the cowboy, the whole Kingsman team comes to the ranch every summer for their annual company retreat, but only Merlin, Eggsy and Harry fly over for Christmas. And while their contingent is small, havoc is an inevitable conclusion where any number of the Kingsman are involved.

Desserts are still being passed around the table - sticky toffee pudding, pecan pie and Yule log - when Teak and Eggsy start to raise their voices and slap the table about British and American Christmas songs. They’re currently yelling - not singing - carols at each other, with Jameson barking excitedly in the background.

Tequila throws his hands up in frustration at Eggsy’s rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas. ‘Why is there a partridge in a pear tree? What the fuck is a partridge?’

Champ and Merlin are having a more civilised but no less intense debate about pies - specifically mince pies versus pumpkin pie as a holiday dessert.

‘Next year, old chap,’ declares Merlin. ‘I’ll bring mince pies with me and you’ll be eating your words, just you wait.’

Jack whispers in your ear. ‘He says that every year, but never does.’

You chuckle and turn your attention to Harry, who’s now insisting that they should put Love Actually up on the big projector screen after dinner, whereas Ginger and Poppy are lobbying for Elf.

‘Why not The Holiday? It’s literally the perfect American-British movie,' you pitch in, which launches another furious tirade of debate at your end of the table.

Jack mumbles under his breath. ‘Because they’re idiots and pointless, festive arguing is a winter sport around here.’

His arm is warm around your shoulders as you giggle into your mulled wine. ‘Is it like this every year?’

‘Yup,’ he answers, really popping the P. With a mild touch of embarrassment, he holds your amused gaze and asks, ‘Too much?’

Tipping your face upwards, you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

‘Just enough,’ you assure him as the corners of his eyes crinkle in the warmest smile.

You didn’t have time to drop off your suitcase at Jack’s cottage, which is a short drive from the ranch, when you arrived in the morning. Instead, with Champ’s blessing, you commandeered one of the guest cabins, all empty in the off-season - which is just as well. By the time midnight rolls around, it’s clear that no one is in any state to make their way back to their respective off-site houses.

Harry and the ladies retired to their borrowed rooms a little while ago, leaving you and Jack to round up the stragglers. You check on Teak, lying face down on the sofa, bundled up in his winter quilts in an aborted attempt to leave. A few steps over, you drape a blanket on Champ and another one on Merlin, who are passed out on armchairs which look comfortable enough to sleep in, socked feet up on matching ottomans. Eggsy is cuddling with Jameson in front of the fire, and Jack feeds the logs to make sure it burns till morning.

It’s bleak outside. Jack shields you from the worst of the winds, tucking you into his side as you trudge across the snow, the early start you’ve had catching up on you. Thankfully, the heating is already on in the cabin when you get there, and he starts a fire as well while you get ready for bed.

When you pad into the bedroom in your pyjamas, teeth brushed and makeup washed off, Jack looks up to see you holding a neatly-wrapped present, a shy smile on your lips.

Standing up from the fireplace, he dusts his hands and reaches for you, palms settling on the small of your back, leaning down to graze his still cold nose against yours. ‘Is that for me, darlin’?’

‘Maybe,’ you reply coyly. ‘Do you want to do presents now or tomorrow morning?’

‘Let’s do it now, I have to feed the horses early tomorrow,’ answers Jack, pecking you on the cheek. ‘Give me five minutes.’

The bed is cold, and you have to steel yourself to burrow into the icy cocoon of the thick covers, missing Jack’s warmth. He doesn’t make you wait long, re-appearing in just boxers, and a big box in hand, switching off all but the bedside lights.

Sliding under the duvet, he yelps when your icy feet tangle into his longer legs, making you laugh. His bare skin heats you up instantly as he wraps one arm around you and pulls you into his broad chest. You feel him hum when he asks, ‘You want to go first, darlin’?’

Blinking up at him, you answer nervously, ‘No - you first.’

He pushes the box your way and you sit up, pretending to shake the package to gauge what’s inside. Jack chuckles, his strong forearms dark against the beige quilt wrapped around his middle. Only his fingers give away his nerves, picking at loose threads in the fabric as you carefully unravel the wrapping paper.

Lifting the lid of the box, your lips part and you stare wordlessly at what’s inside.

‘Jack,’ you breathe. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Gently, you pull out the cowboy hat in tan suede, the smell of fresh leather comforting as you turn it over in your grasp, marvelling at the craftsmanship in the dips and swells of the construction.

‘Try it on, darlin’,’ he says, his shoulders relaxing in relief at your reaction.

You do, and of course, it fits perfectly. Shuffling onto your knees, you crawl closer to kiss him fully on the lips, tilting your head to the side so that his face fits under the brim of your hat. ‘Thank you, I love it.’

Jack arches an eyebrow. ‘You might want to check the box again, darlin’.’

Sitting back on your haunches, you send him an almost accusatory look. ‘You can’t give me two presents, cowboy.’

He shrugs with an insolent grin. ‘I’m a grown man, I’ll do what I like. ‘

Your eyes alight on the black velvet case at the bottom of the box, and you draw it out with careful fingers as if it will break. With one last glance at Jack, you gingerly lift the lid, feeling the hinges creak.

Jack watches you closely, his own breathing suspended as you stare down into your hands, thoughts whirring in his head. Is it too much, too soon? Is he comin’ on too strong? Would you even like it?

After the longest ten seconds of his life, you look up at him with soft eyes and brows drawn, a crack in your voice. ‘Jack.’

He gives you a lopsided smile and reaches for the box. ‘I went back to the same silversmith who made my belt buckle and asked him to make this.’

The chain is delicate in his big, weathered hands. It takes him a couple of tries, but he eventually manages to pry open the hinge of the clasp and holds out the necklace towards you in a question. ‘May I, darlin’?’

Turning around, the bed dips behind you as Jack shifts closer, cool silver kissing your décolletage as he fastens the clasp behind your neck. Your gaze drops downwards, the tip of your index finger testing the weight of the solid sterling pendant in the shape of a flask, Statesman emblazoned in delicate lettering -

A much smaller but exact copy of his belt buckle.

His words draw you out of your thoughts. ‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ you correct him, twisting around to tackle him into the mattress, your knees around his waist as you loom over him, knocking off your hat so you can kiss him properly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

The pendant dangles from your neck, tickling him on the chin as he winds one big hand into your hair, his eyes following as it sways. ‘It looks good on you, darlin’.’

The warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest starts to recede as your eyes land on the present you got for him on the bed. The giddiness you felt when you found it is a distant dream, instead, anxiety threatens to take root deep in your head. If you got something from Amazon tonight, is there any chance that they could deliver tomorrow -

‘Darlin’. You’re thinking too loudly,’ says Jack soothingly, chucking you gently under your chin. ‘What’s wrong?’

You shake your head. ‘I got you a really stupid present. Let’s forget about it - I’ll get you something else.’

His brows draw together in concern as he grabs your wrists and pulls you flush against his chest so that there’s nowhere else to look but at him. ‘Don’t say that, there’s no such thing as a stupid present. Whatever you got me, I’m sure I’ll love it.’

You inhale deeply, chewing your bottom lip. ‘You mentioned a few weeks ago that your leather jacket and fleeces are too bulky and it’s hard to move around in all the layers when it's cold.’

He nods encouragingly. ‘That I did.’

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reach out and drag the package towards him. ‘Well, I saw this at my local shop, and thought it might help.’

Jack gives you a reassuring smile and leans back into the pillows, grabbing the present excitedly. He pulls you against his side, as if he’s trying to squeeze all the self-doubt out of you, the gift draped across your laps as he starts to unwrap it.

You’re a bundle of jitters when he rips off the wrapping paper with impatient fingers, and the lightweight and puffy blue fabric comes into view.

Jack shakes out the neatly folded one-piece. ‘Is it - a ski suit?’

You nod and point out the black contrasting detailing on the front of the suit. ‘It's light and it's warm. Look at the western design with the single point pockets - I couldn’t not get it for you.’

Jack chuckles, the sound warming you as his arm tightens around your shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. So simple, yet so clever.’

‘You like it?’ you ask in the smallest voice.

‘I love it,’ he grins, drawing you in for another kiss. ‘Thank you, darlin’.’

Finally assuaged, you sag against him, a yawn creeping up on you as the tension in your body recedes. ‘You want to try it on now?’

Tucking you in, he says, ‘I’ll try it tomorrow, it’s been a long day for you, darlin’.

Putting your hat and his ski suit on the bedside table, Jack turns off the light, his body immediately seeking out yours under the sheets, claiming every inch of you with a leg between your thighs, front plastered to your back, palms under your ratty pyjamas top, splayed across your naked skin.

It’s been too long.

Nose tucked behind your ear, his arms full of you - finally here after months of feeling your phantom weight in his embrace - the night slips away as the snow falls outside.

It’s too warm under the covers when you wake up, even though Jack’s side of the bed is empty. You stretch lazily, the clock reads 8am but the fire is still going strong, he must have stoked it when he got up.

You decide to make some coffee and wait for him to come back before venturing to the communal kitchen for breakfast. While the water boils, you smile as you fiddle with the necklace sitting on your chest, warm and reassuring against your skin.

The smell of caffeine fills the cabin as you sip from your mug, and before long, you hear Jack stomping up the stairs, humming a country tune in his raspy baritone as he approaches the door.

Pouring him a steaming cup, you say, ‘Hey, I made you some coffee -’

You trail off when you turn around.

Your morning brain can’t quite grasp the picture in front of you. Jack’s still wearing his cowboy hat, his nose red from the cold. Vaguely, you realise he’s wearing the present you gifted him - and you congratulate yourself on the fact that it fits him like a damn glove.

The ski suit accentuates his broad shoulders and tapers in at his waist in a flattering cut, the zipper drawn all the way up to the hollow of his throat. He’s replaced the detachable belt that came with the ski suit with his own, the flask bottle buckle popping against the blue.

But the bottom half - that you have trouble comprehending. It takes you a beat longer to realise why.

He’s wearing full-length cowboy chaps over it.

Chaps are essentially leather trousers with the seat cut out, and Jack's wearing them with his belt looped through the straps. You know he only uses them when it’s muddy, to keep his jeans clean. He didn’t wear them at all on your pack trip, but you’ve seen a peek on Facetime in the rainy months in between. And now that you're seeing them in person, you decide that like them - a lot.

Your gaze, slow as molasses despite being completely unburdened by shame, slides all the way down to the triangle of blue framed by the negative space in the brown chaps where - for the lack of a better expression - his prominent endowment hangs heavy at the apex of his strong thighs. Not that you’re trying to look, but you can see the very heft of him through the fabric.

Jesus H. Christ. It’s too fucking early to be sinning.

When Jack realises that you’re staring, he says somewhat apologetically, clearly oblivious to the merry tangent your mind has gone off on. ‘Sorry, I know I’m not meant to wear it this way, but I didn’t want to get it dirty -’

You shake your head hastily. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s - perfect.’

Something breathless in your tone catches his ear, and he tilts his head to the side, one large hand coming to rest on his hip, thick fingers spread obnoxiously wide over the side of the chaps. The beginning of a cocky smile lifts the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, darlin’? You like it?’

Leaving your mug on the counter top, you bite your lip and give him your best teasing grin. ‘Why don’t you turn around so I can take a better look, cowboy?’

He arches an eyebrow at your boldness, but decides to indulge you. Voice dropping an octave, he rasps, ‘Better take a seat for this, darlin’.’

You grin and do as you’re told, turning the kitchen chair around so that you’re facing him, running your eyes up and down his frame as he steps into your space, narrow hips swaying to a beat you can’t hear. Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he suddenly turns with a dramatic flourish and arches his back, granting you an unrivalled view of his behind framed by the chaps cut off at the top of his thighs, the ski suit tight against his pert bottom.

‘Enjoy the view, darlin’?’ he asks, grinning over his shoulder at you.

You swat him on one cheek playfully, and when he swoops suddenly into your lap in a classic burlesque move, you squeal, ‘Jack!’

Bending his knees, he grinds into your thighs as you laugh, the ski suit soft on your skin while the leather chaps scrape against your bare shins. Turning around, he reaches up to tug the suit’s zipper downwards in a slow, deliberate course, and he purrs, ‘What say you if ol’ cowboy Jack gives you a proper show, hmm?’

You inhale sharply as the white wife beater underneath comes into view, and you reach up to help him push one side of the ski suit off his shoulder, revealing the firm line of his left arm.

‘Thought that was more of Teak’s thing,’ you quip, licking your lips as your eyes skim down his front to settle on the weighty bulge now straining against the front of the suit, your eager fingers pulling him closer by his belt buckle.

Gripping the edge of the table, he traps you into your seat, his stare dropping to the matching pendant resting on your now heaving bosom, taking in your blown pupils as he grins. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

‘Aren’t I the luckiest girl,’ you muse, taking off his hat and flinging it onto the table, his hungry stare alone pinning you in place when you drag him down to you by his lapels.

Warm lips part yours and he delves into your mouth, kissing you deeply. The promise of more leaves you chasing him as he draws back with a drawl. ‘You’re about to get a whole lot luckier, darlin’.’

The thick material of the ski suit is almost pillowy as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. It rubs gently on your nipples as you rock against Jack, arms wound around his neck while his desperate hands cup and knead the plump swell of your ass, dragging you up and down his hard cock.

‘That’s it, you’re ridin' me beautifully, darlin’,’ he growls into your ear, exhaling hot and heavy as he nips your collar bone. ‘Missed you so much.’

His chaps are slippery under your bare thighs from your slick, and you clench at the sensation of being completely naked on top of him when he’s still fully clothed, only his belt and zipper undone so that he can fuck up into you, the rickety kitchen chair groaning under the weight of the two of you.

‘Missed you too,’ you whisper against his lips, crying out when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. ‘Yes, yes, harder, Jack.’

Leaning forward, he takes one breast into his hot mouth, one eye on your necklace that’s sticking to your sweaty skin before licking you between your tits and over the silver pendant, the salt sharp on his tongue. He hums, ‘You wear it so well.’

‘I won’t take it off, ever,’ you swear, throwing your head back when he scrapes his teeth against the column of your neck, so full of him that your knees quake.

‘Good,’ growls Jack, thrusting harder into you, making your breath stutter. ‘Keep me with you, darlin’ - always.’

You smile, fingers curled into his hair, stealing a tender moment as your noses bump and eyes meet with the easiest promise you will ever keep. ‘Always.’

Notes: Am I allowed to pick favourites? I'm not? I'm doing it anyway -- this is my favourite out of all the holiday fics, no question! I'm so soft for cowboy Jack and his darlin' 🥹 We've been spending time with just the two of them so far in the series, so it was really fun to explore the group situations, especially with the Kingsman involved!

I hope you enjoyed this fluffy interlude. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and thank you so much for reading ❤️

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #fuckyeahholidays #‘tis palomino season

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ssa-atlas-alvez · 1 year

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Just saw this and thought of an idea of y/n and derek enjoying early mornings and late nights together (either after tough cases or on rainy days) cooking together, laying in bed holding each other as they share sweet kisses between the two, putting on some music and dancing together while having a home date night (this could also be considered for hotchner brother)

As you can tell I have alot of ideas from soft fluff

-🧊

Warnings: Few mentions of rough cases

Word count: 1008

A/N: Okay, I tried something slightly different, let me know what you think aha. Also, did go with y/n hotchner for this fic in the end aha

Early Mornings:

‘Lose an hour in the morning, and you will spend all day looking for it.’ - Richard Whately.

Early mornings were a given in your household, especially with your jobs. But, nonetheless, they were treasured. You almost always woke first, only ever by a few minutes, but those minutes were filled with admiration as you watched his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids, eyelashes resting on his cheeks. Derek’s face always smoothed out, truly relaxed. It wasn’t often you saw him this relaxed, other than when he was asleep.

Today, however, you were not awake first. The case had been tough and had taken a lot out of you, apparently so much so that you slept in an extra half an hour.

“Come on baby,” He murmured, placing a soft kiss against your neck, “We need to head to work.”

You shook your head, giving a small whine. “No, I wanna stay here forever,”

Derek gave a small chuckle, you shivered, feeling the vibrations against your cheek that was planted firmly on his chest, “Your brother would have our heads if we were late again this week,”

“Aaron doesn’t need to know,” You mumbled.

“He’d kick my ass and you know it,”

“You could take him.” You stated, leaving no room for argument as you fell back asleep.

Late Nights:

‘Late night conversations make you learn a lot about people.’ - Unknown.

You laid, curled into Derek’s side, desperately fighting off the sleep that gripped you firmly in its hold. You snuggled deeper into his chest, taking in his scent, this moment, how perfect it was. “It’s okay baby,” He mumbled, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “Go to sleep,” He said, “It’s been a long day, you deserve it.”

You let out a content smile as you slowly gave in, allowing yourself to drift off, surrounded by his scent, by him. By the very thing, the very being that made you feel safe.

Cooking:

‘Cooking is a caring and nurturing act. It’s kind of the ultimate gift for someone, to cook for them.’ - Curtis Stone.

“Babe, can you pass me the carving knife?” It’s a simple kitchen question that has you immediately stumped. Your knowledge on kitchen knives was limited - bread knife, bumpy knife, butter knife, eating knife, big knife, small knife, medium knife… That was it.

“Erm, yeah,” You answer, peering at the block of knives in front of you, “Which one would that be?”

Derek gives a chuckle as he reaches past you, carefully removing it from the block. You nod, mentally jotting that down for next time. “The kitchen’s not your forte, is it?”

“Nope,” You said with a grin, you were a big enough man to admit that. Honestly, you only knew how to cook things Rossi had made you learn during Friday Family Night Dinners.

“I’ll help with that,” He said with a wink.

Holding Each Other:

‘The best thing to hold onto in life is each other’ - Unknown.

You weren’t always public in your affection for each other. At least not at the start - not wanting to spring it on the team and then rub their faces in it (especially with Aaron being team leader and all). But eventually, you found yourself warming up to each other in the presence of the team, granted it was a quick peck on the cheek or holding hands under the table, but it was something.

Then, after a case that was draining - there was really no other way to put it - the only thing either of you needed was to just hold each other. The others seemed to have clocked this and so, insisted that the pair of you took the jet couch. Both too tired to argue, you curled up into each other’s sides, acknowledging the slow breathing of the other, allowing the other’s scent to calm you, to relax your muscles, to let the tensions of the day wash away.

Stolen Kisses:

‘One kiss could bind two souls in a second.’ - Unknown.

You’re not paying attention to your surroundings, you know that. But you know who’s in the room (you, Derek, and Aaron). Your latest task was to work on the geographical profile whilst Reid and Rossi were out talking to the victim’s therapist. Your eyes locked tightly on the map, the area Reid had circled in red.

You barely register Derek’s head popping into your vision. In fact, by the time you realise, he’s already landed one on your lips, leaving you blushing in the middle of the room, Aaron’s back to the pair of you - working on whatever the hell it was he had to do.

Eventually, you get your payback. He’s listening to music, staring out of the window on the way home from the case. He’s completely zoned out. You lean over the desk between you, gently gripping his chin in your heads, delicately turning his head to yours and planted a kiss - finding yourself smiling when Derek smiles into the kiss.

Music and Dancing:

‘We can’t choose the music that life gives up, but we can choose how to dance to it’ - Unknown.

Music played softly, you clutched Derek - the pair of you chuckling - as you began to softly sway to the beat. “I love you,” You mumbled, resting your head against his shoulder. He placed his chin on your head.

“I love you more,” He chuckled, you snorted.

“Could you be any more cheesy?”

"Probably," Derek mumbled, you just laugh softly. You couldn't help the squeal that comes from your lips when Derek picks you up, spinning you around. The laugh bubbles loudly in your throat. And for a moment, you forget about the case, the sadness, the death. For a moment, you're just two people in love.

A loud banging on the wall to the left drew you out of your thoughts. "Can you two please shut up? I'm trying to work!" Aaron's voice floods through the wall and you can't help it, but the laughter (much to Aaron's dismay) only grows louder.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #y/n hotchner #brother hotchner #derek morgan x male reader #derek morgan x reader #x reader #x male reader #self insert #reader #male reader #derek morgan x y/n hotchner #spencer reid #david rossi #emily prentiss #asks

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fantasyqueen502 · 1 year

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Mrs. Miller

Summary- (Before the infection/apocalypse) A look into the life of Mrs. Miller. The day the Millers become parents.

Relationship: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rated: PG Fluff, Pregnancy, labor pains Word Count: 809

"Yeah!---" Joel exhales out of breath, four large travel bags in hand. "---Tommy---" struggling with his phone pinned between his ear and shoulder. "---It's happening."

He missed a step, sending all four bags tumbling down the final flight. One bursting open in a confetti of diapers, pacifiers, and bottles following two by two. Dropping to his knees collecting the fallen items. "---This is it---" he says, forcing the bag shut with a huff and a smile present on his face. Lining everything up by the front door.

"Yes, this is the real thing." He assures now holding the phone by hand checking boxes to his mental checklist. "Kay…I'll call you when we get there."

Hearing the jingle of glassware from the fridge, "Y/N?"

"Yeah." She returns, closing the fridge door after checking the date on a jar of mayonnaise.

Holding the receiver to his chest. "What are you doing!?" he exclaims.

"Making a sandwich." She answers plainly. "Now out of my way." She swats him to the side waddling to the counter, where other items are.

"It's time. Your water broke, we should be on our way--"

"Only when the contractions are less than five minutes apart." coating a slice of bread with the condiment. "I don't want to get sent home again." She adds topping off the finished sandwich titled the double decker.

"She takes after you." He couldn't help but snicker. "Indecisive." He whispers, placing a peck on her temple.

"I have a knife." She holds the mayo-covered butter knife at him threateningly. He chuckles, clicking his tongue at the adorable sight. Taking the “weapon” cleaning the blade with his tongue.

She gags, looking away just before pinching his bicep, making him yelp.

"Let's be an angel today. 'Kay little monster." giving her belly a comforting rub. Continuing his chat with his brother. "We'll meet you there."

She looks up as his brows furrowed in confusion, unable to listen to the other end of the conversation. "The hospital, idiot!" He snaps, making her giggle.

"Ha, ha, ha." He mocks sarcastically, making her snort at his cockeyed expression, which he often does when his brother does something that he deems stupid. She was surprised his eyes never got stuck the amount of instances it's happened. "Tommy." He informs her, holding the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Tommy." She greets finishing the sandwich, cutting it diagonally just how Joel likes it, and makes a trade, handing him his half as she takes the phone. "He's just anxious. You know how snippy he gets when he's anxious." She teases.

" ‘ey!" He objects with his mouth full.

"Just made him the double decker." She smiles. "Of course. Payment in advance for babysitting, see you there." She smiles. "Bye bye." She ends.

"You made him one?" He says words muffled by bread, lettuce, and bacon.

"Of course." She answers by holding up a brown paper bag. "Only the best for Diana's favorite uncle."

"He's her only uncle." He corrects. "Back to Diana, huh?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "You choose, babe." She pushes a sheet of paper towards him.

Without giving the list of names a glance, "Joel Jr." He answers taking another larger bite without thought.

"C'mon." She huffs. "Our daughter's gonna have twenty-four first names. Pick one."

"Any name?"

"Any name."

"No vetoing?"

She shakes her head in agreement.

"Alright." He swallows his bite. He takes a moment to look over the list before looking up at the mother of his first child. "Sarah."

"Sarah?"

"Thought of it, few weeks ago. After the drive in,"

"Thought you hated that movie."

"Loved to hate. There's a difference." He corrects. "I quite enjoyed Lost World."

"Sarah." She hums. "I don't like it." She makes a face, causing Joel's expression to fall in dismay. "I love it." He snapped up, and his face beaming.

"That's lame." He scolds, pulling her close for a kiss. "You're lame." He combates patheticly.

"I know." She grins proudly, receiving another kiss. She pulls away. "Ow." She whines, holding the countertop while rubbing her belly with the other hand. Squeezing her eyes tight.

"Big one?" Placing his hand to her lower back.

"Yep." She groans, exhaling a long breath. He begins making soothing circles to dull the ache.

"Lean on me." He instructs her to lean her face into his chest, inhaling the scent of Irish spring.

"Mmmm." She sounds as the grip of pain loosened. Then it faded all together.

"Think that's our cue." He chuckles, placing a hand on her bump. "Time to finally meet our baby girl."

"Time to finally meet, Sarah."

Series Chapters order:

Mrs. Miller

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 2

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 3

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 4

Mrs. Miller: Chapter 5

#last of us #hbo max #joel miller #Joel x F!Reader #joel x y/n #Sarah's mother #imagine #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #Sarah #Mrs. Miller

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fumifooms · 3 months

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oh, sorry for so many asks, i also wanted to say too though i really agree so much with your chilchuck thoughts so far, even down to your personal headcanons about how things might go post-series. and you're absolutely right, i'll defend that little guy any day myself. you understand him so well and it's kind of relaxing to have someone else dish out this kind of analysis and already agree with all of it cus it's just so real, so thank you again for the Meal <- perhaps the perfect thing to say about dungeon meshi analysis when i think about it

i know you have playlists and stuff so i wanted to share a song i've been listening to that that reminds me of him: divine loser by clem turner

No worries, they’ve been a lot of fun! I do plan on getting back to each one btw, just gotta get through some other things first hopefully. Aaaah that’s really nice to hear 🥺 I do know the feeling haha, it’s always fun to have posts that Get It that you just nod along with 🤝 I’ve thought sooo much about Chilchuck I rotate him in my brain like rotisserie chicken more often than not, glad it all ended up being productive haha. Y’know recently my friends have been calling me a Chilchuck superfan/scholar jokingly and it actually made me have a realization moment of…

Bc I’ve always said Laios was my fave and like, he does mean everything to me idk if I’ve ever felt so seen as with Laios, I relate to him sooo much, but then. Okay alright that can be a different thing than a character being your favorite fine FINE I admit it Chilchuck’s my top blorbo. He’s so.🧍‍♂️I can’t even describe. He’s so….. He’s a clown but he’s also perfection in its best imperfect form I will not be taking further questions today. My friend called him my silly rabbit like that one meme and it makes me laugh sm

Thank you for the music rec!! I listened to it and yes agreed, sent straight to my Chil playlist. Songs are my bread and butter when I have character brainrot bc like with web weavings I feel like there are so many emotions and thoughts you can communicate about something so simply through one… (Which for anyone interested here’s my web weaving tag, got 2 about Chil). Gonna link all my dunmeshi playlists while I’m here: Dungeon Meshi, Chilchuck & his wife, marchil, Mithrun.

Ok everyone saw this coming but this ask ran away from me and I ramble about some song lyrics I associate with Chil & different facets of his life below the cut. Some people find my, ehem, heated rambles about Chil entertaining, this is your cue to get out the popcorn.

When thinking about songs for Chil I have 3 angles I take: About Chilchuck, about him and his wife, or about him & Marcille. Marchil is so engraved into me with their arcs together, that they’re like the concept of closure and letting go and letting yourself live again to me, sorry for all the non-enjoyers… I think currently my top song for him is Jackrabbit by San Fermin, because it combines all three it makes me go wild. It’s about trepidation… Throwing yourself into it even despite the fear (working with traps, survival in poverty where you have to rush & hustle), or just staying there paralyzed(not reaching out to his wife). Flight or freeze!! Saying goodbyes and saying hellos!! Not dying alone!! The life cycle of a wild rabbit living and dying, the baton pass race of life from generation to generation!! Chil and his daughters even!!! Going through life at a frenzied pace!! It is so Chilchuck and so marchil, and the music does give that hurried and scared energy to me too, and sigh the Marcille side to it with fear of death too…

Extra fun context but the other day on the discord server we were talking about what animal each character’s fursona would be as we do and I thought of a rabbit for Chilchuck: Quick footed, ‘cowardly’, small and frail and seen as weak 🙃, athletic and slender, pulls stunts, stressed out, has very fine hearing and has good instincts, etc. And ofc that fits really well with Marcille since she’s kinda associated with dungeon rabbits hehe~ But I think while Marcille’s 100% the cute round rabbit Chil’s more like a brown hare, more wild and like, more like a jackalope if we’re still doing monsters... I do lowkey find it more fun than his associated monster being mimics because he’s crabby, because they’re clever (with where they place themselves) and because of how he has a soft shell but soft insides, lol.

OKAY so that’s my song pick with the main 3 facets sure, now I’ll share some lyrics for each 3 sides separatedly 😈 Kinda summarizing my web weavings for him thus far. If we start with Chilchuck by himself we have… Enter One by Shelby Merry and Drunk by The Living Tombstone

With his wife, we have the bad end, and the good end for if they get back together with Lost Kitten by Metric and North by Sleeping At Last… Okay okay plus Love Like Ghosts and My Heart is Buried in Venice… Little Soldier by The Crane Wives for them also RUIN me

And Marchil… Marchil oh my beloved. Another buddy also made a full analysis on discord about Soap by The Oh Hellos for them lol, but these are Not I by I Fight Dragons and My Heart is Buried in Venice again~

Okay okay two more. Boats & Birds by Gregory and The Hawk, and Tummy by Tamino.

Finishing it up with quotes from, in order, A Softer World by Joey Comeau, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Acknowledgements by Danez Smith, The Letter by Richard Paul Evans, and last but not least posts from dead tumblr account flintcoded. I keep looking around and finding MORE fitting quotes. Someone stop me- In loving me you hold a knife at my throat, in loving you I tell you exactly where to cut. Forgive me, memory is a rope around my neck. I need you to be happy, I need one of us to be happy.

Hand in unlovable hand…

In conclusion;

#Thinking Chilchuck (positive) thoughts today. Have Chilchuck (sweet) dreams. Have a very Chilchuck chewsday (Fumi it’s sunday- shhhhhh)#Ask #fumi updates #Dunmeshi memes #Marchil #Chilchuck tims #maybe i should make a masterpost about my dunmeshi posts and playlists and fics oughhhh noooo i don’t like organizing myself #character playlist #ship playlist #Marchil song lyrics #This is 100% my cue that it’s time for me to make a new Chil web weaving.#So much to do so much to say all the time…#Last time I had an hyperfixation that lasted this long it was Sonic the Hedgehog. YOU LAUGH BUT most my fanfics are for sth so!!#Gonna treat y’all to many more meals from my fancontent factory brain

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