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liminalpebble · 8 months

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Loki request: Loki and reader getting mani-pedis together.

Hello my dear @eleniblue! Thank you for the prompt. This is wayyyy outside of my usual style, but was a really great challenge so I hope you enjoy it.

CW: No smut, just one f-bomb, I think. Surprisingly wholesome considering what I usually write. But let's say Minors DNI to cover my ass.

Word count: 800 (lil shortie)

Very soft and bisexual Loki x gender neutral reader (just friendship, deeper feels if you squint), soooo fluffy

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Wrapped Around Your Finger

“NO, Loki...no way,” you said between swigs from your water bottle. You'd been training in the Avengers' gym with him all morning, and now, a sweating, exhausted, hungry mess, you weren't in any mood for your fellow Avenger's antics.

It wasn't fair that what was an intensive, back-breaking regimen prescribed by the Black Widow herself was simply a walk in the park for his Asgardian body...and what a fucking body it was. But, as you had a thousand times before, you pushed the thought away.

“Darling....why not? Be a bit of a hedonist with me. Why must you insist on being so responsible and stoic?”

You gave him a warning glare and replied, “Because you only give me those sad puppy eyes and call me 'darling' when you're about to get me into trouble.”

He came closer to you, towering over you, but grinning that Cheshire cat grin that always disarmed you. He leaned down and purred into your ear with a mischeivous whisper, “Come on. Let's have a bit of fun, eh?”

That was the final straw. You knew you were wrapped around his lovely pale finger, with its shiny black nail.

----

“This...this is new,” you said gingerly, sinking your feet into the warm bath (which admittedly, felt amazing) and slid back into the comfortable leather chair. “I've never had a manicure or pedicure before,” you admitted.

“How could you not! It's so delightfulll,” he said drawing the last word out in a low purr. “Truly, since I've taken up residence on Midgard, this has been one of my favorite discoveries.” He sighed wistfully, eyes wondering around to take in the tastefully decorated high-end salon. “After losing my royal status it scratches a rather delicious itch to have someone waiting on me hand and foot in a luxurious setting.”

You rolled your eyes. “Have you always been such a diva?”

“Well, yes.” he said, without a hint of shame, surprised that you would even ask.

You giggled as the smiling technician began working a tickling pumice stone over the soles of your feet, and Loki chuckled along with you. He reached over and held your hand, meeting your eyes, and saying with surprising sincerity, “It really is good to hear you laugh again.”

Grinning you said, “Well, I have to admit. This is sort of fun, but it feels weird to be...well...waited on. Some of us aren't royalty.”

“Well, for now you can feel like you are. I knew you'd warm up to it,” he said just as two more technicians came over to begin on your hands. The one working on Loki's nails took up a friendly chat with him. He was clearly a regular.

After a bit, he looked thoughtfully back to you. “I wanted to do this for you as a gesture of gratitude. Of all of our colleagues, you've been the only one who listens to me and accepts me willingly, rather than out of begrudging necessity. Dare I say, you rather like being around me?” he said with peaked eyebrows and a bit of fragile hope in his voice.

“I do,” you replied, meeting his eyes. “I like our lunch dates, and how you drag me shopping, or to the movies. You even make training more tolerable. You get me out of my comfort zone.”

He scoffed. “My dear, we both know you can't be left to your own devices when it comes to fashion. You'd probably live in those...what are they called...'sweatpants'? How many novel experiences would you forgo if not for my encouragement?” he said, as he raised his long lovely hand and inspected his now perfectly shellac-ed nails. They gleamed like black patent leather with a layer of twinkling emerald glitter and gold flake; a striking contrast to his porcelain skin.

You gave him a knowing smirk. “You're fishing for compliments, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Indeed I am, poppet,” he confirmed, again, without an ounce of embarrassment.

“Your nails look spectacular,” you said, knowing he wanted more. And he gave you a disappointed look, hungry for more approval.

“And I am very glad to have your friendship. In fact, I might even say you're my best friend. The misfits of the team need to stick together, right?”

“Indeed they do,” he agreed with a regal nod. “And darling...”

“Yes?”

“I am also very fond of you,” he said, those big pale aquamarine eyes glimmered with confusing, exciting implication as they met yours.

Then he pulled back, smiling in faux-innocence, saying lightly, “Now...all finished. To brunch. Shall we?” and offered you his arm.

@queen-paladin @littlespaceyelf @goblingirlsarah @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @sweetsigyn @peaches1958 @muddyorbs @gigglingtiggerv2 @peacefulpianist @coldnique @holdmytesseract@infinitystoner @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @glitchquakee @ladyofthestayingpower @marcotheflychair @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @tripleyeeet @acidcasualties @alexakeyloveloki @icytrickster17 @chokeanddagger @joyful-enchantress

#lovely asks #loki fanfic #loki drabble #sas #lovely mutuals #loki fluff #Mew Mew the mango says hi

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nightfurylover31 · 1 year

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A little Sonamy for New Year's

*Takes place after Forces but before Frontiers*

It was just a few minutes to midnight, and the start of a new year. Everyone was excited for it. Tails was making sure Omega would set off the fireworks in time (and only fireworks), Rouge was teasing Knuckles about a resolution with him and the Master Emerald, Cream and Vanilla were with the Chaotix, Shadow was being a wallflower but he liked it that way, and so many others were in celebration. But there was someone missing from the group.

"Tails, have you seen Sonic?" Amy asked the fox.

"I think he's on the roof," Tails answered, while trying to stop Omega from launching a ginormous firecracker.

Amy left and ran up the stairs to the roof. She was hoping to give Sonic his first hug of the new year. She gave up hope for a kiss a long time ago. After the war, she was just glad to have Sonic back. She did a lot of self-reflection over that time, and realized how annoying her advances had been. It was no wonder Sonic spent more time running from her that fighting Eggman. She was trying to do better, giving him space and respecting his wishes. But she still wanted to be there for him.

Sonic stood on the roof, looking up at the sky. He could see the stars, yet there were still clouds with small snowflakes falling.

"There you are!" Sonic turned and saw the pink hedgehog walking up to him.

"Oh, hey Ames."

"What are you doing up here? Don't want to be with the others?"

"I was just thinking." There was a serious tone in his voice.

"About what? Your New Year's resolution?"

"You mean besides kicking Eggman's butt?"

"Does it really count as a resolution if you do it every year?"

The two of them laughed. Nothing like a good Egghead joke to lighten the mood. Even so, Amy could tell there was a lot on Sonic's mind. She didn't want to force it out of him, but...

"Among other things," he said, finally breaking the silence. Sonic's normal lightheartedness disappeared from his face. Just a solemn expression. It almost made Amy worry. "You know, I don't think I ever apologized."

"Apologized? For what?"

"For how I treated you before. Always running off or ditching you. I was pretty insensitive at times."

Amy was surprised to hear Sonic say this. It wasn't like him to say he was sorry. "No, there's no reason for you to apologize. I mean, I was a pain back then. I don't blame you for not wanting to be around me."

The blue hedgehog quickly waved his hands in a 'no' motion. "That's not what I meant. You can be pretty overwhelming at times, but that's not a bad thing. You always help people when they need it, even if they don't realize it. I'm really glad I met you."

With that, Amy diverted her eyes downward, feeling the heat build up in her cheeks and ears. "It's not like you. To talk like that."

"Well, you spend six months locked up in a small cell with nothing to do, you tend to do a lot of thinking." It bothered Amy that Sonic said that so casually, but remained silent. He had his own way of dealing with things. Hedgehogs didn't like showing weakness. "Thought a lot about my friends. And... about you."

There was a long pause after that. A light shade of pink that seemed to form on Sonic's face. "I'm not very good at expressing myself, like you are. I'm not very good with relationships, and I'm not one for romances. And I don't want to ruin our friendship, but... I want to be there for you. But I still don't... ugh!" At this point, Sonic was just fumbling over his words. Amy couldn't help but let out a light giggle. Then, she wrapped her arms around him for a hug. Not a tight one, but just enough to give a sense of comfort.

"You don't have to try so hard. I told you before, I love you the way you are, and I don't want you to change. And you've always been there for me when I needed you. As long as we can keep going on adventures together, and you stay smiling, I'll be happy."

Sonic was surprised. He remembered all those times of her wanting to go out on dates, getting married, all that stuff. He hadn't really noticed how much she matured during the war. That she didn't talk like that anymore. "But is that enough for you?"

"It is for now. And that's what matters. Living in the moment, right?" She pulled away, staring into his eyes. Sonic couldn't help but smile. Not too many people could keep up with him, and seemed even less could accept all his quirks. But Amy always stood by him and helped him through some of his toughest times. Never lost faith in him. He truly was grateful to have a friend like her in his life.

The two were so busy talking, they didn't hear their friends counting down. The sky was suddenly filled with fireworks. Sonic and Amy looked up to see the dazzling display. It filled them both with wonder and hope for the future. Sonic glanced over at Amy.

"So? No New Year's kiss?"

Amy chuckled, and just rested her head on his shoulder. "No, this is perfect."

"Happy New Year, Amy."

"Happy New Year, Sonic."

#sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic and amy #sonamy #sonic x amy #sth #fanfic #relationships are not just about romance #they're about support comfort and accepting who you are #you can't have love without friendship

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travelerh30 · 23 days

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Nainital: A Tale of Friendship, Serenity, and Adventure

In the heart of the Kumaon region of Uttarakhand lies a picturesque gem, cradled amidst the towering Himalayan peaks – Nainital. But our journey to this idyllic hill station wasn't just about ticking off tourist attractions; it was a vibrant tapestry woven with the threads of friendship, serenity, and adventure.

As the wheels of our car rolled over the winding roads leading to Nainital, excitement bubbled within us like a fizzy soda. The air was tinged with the scent of pine, and the distant echo of birdsong serenaded our ears. With each passing mile, the chaos of city life melted away, replaced by a sense of calm anticipation for the adventures that awaited us.

Our first glimpse of Naini .Lake was nothing short of enchanting. The water sparkled like a mosaic of diamonds under the sun's gentle caress, mirroring the lush greenery that enveloped its shores. Without hesitation, we found ourselves drawn to its tranquil waters, eager to embark on our boating escapade.

Renting a rowboat, we paddled our way across the serene expanse of the lake, our laughter mingling with the rhythmic splash of oars against water. With every stroke, we felt the burdens of everyday life slipping away, replaced by a profound sense of freedom and joy.

But Nainital had more in store for us than just lazy afternoons on the lake. The surrounding hills beckoned us with promises of adventure and exploration. With sturdy hiking boots laced up and backpacks filled with snacks and water, we set out to conquer the trails that crisscrossed the verdant landscape.

Our trek to Tiffin Top, a popular vantage point, tested our endurance but rewarded us with sweeping views of the emerald-green hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sitting atop the summit, we felt like kings and queens of our own little kingdom, the world unfolding before us in a breathtaking panorama of beauty and tranquility.

But it wasn't just about the sights; it was the shared experiences that made our journey truly unforgettable. Whether it was getting lost in the labyrinthine streets of Mall Road or haggling with street vendors for souvenirs, every moment was imbued with a sense of camaraderie and laughter.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, we gathered around a crackling bonfire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows upon our faces. Under the star-studded canopy of the night sky, we shared stories and secrets, our hearts brimming with gratitude for the precious gift of friendship.

Our time in Nainital may have been fleeting, but the memories we created will remain etched in our hearts forever. In the embrace of nature's splendor and the warmth of friendship, we found solace, joy, and a renewed appreciation for the simple pleasures of life. And as we bid adieu to this enchanting paradise, we knew that Nainital had left an indelible mark on our souls – a testament to the power of friendship, adventure, and the enduring beauty of the human spirit.

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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Hi!!! Can I request a dreamteam x reader where they see her as a little sister (I’m a whore for cute platonic fics what can I say) and she either gets sick or injured when they are all together somewhere(vidcon, dream + sapnaps place in florida, whatever you want). And it’s just full of protective big brother figures and fluff? Thank you sm!! Also, you can do it as a drabble, head canon, or imagine, whatever sparks inspiration or you are in the mood to write. Thank you again!!

the moment you meet the dream team

they almost immediately adopt you as one of their own

“we’re keeping her,” sapnap says the moment you disconnect from the call, his gaze firm

while george nods, clay’s lips quirk up into a fond grin. “for sure—she reminds me of my sister.”

just like that, an instant friendship is formed between the four of you

clay’s mischief kicks into overdrive when he’s around you, and he just loves to tease you

if only to watch you splutter and bury your face in your hands

“aw,” he croons between wheezes, “are you embarrassed, [y/n]?”

you whine into your headset, and he only laughs in response—you really are too cute

while he likes teasing you, he loves to dote on you more

always shipping presents off to your house with handwritten notes

together, the two of you just love to play pranks on george every chance you get

george will grumble and groan, cursing at dream while you giggle at his red cheeks, hot with embarrassment

but he’ll never get mad at you

the instant you pout at him with those puppy dog eyes, he just melts

“just—” he sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair. “—just don’t do it again, okay?”

you smile, but you never quite promise him

it’s not like he’ll yell at you, anyways

sapnap, on the other hand, loves to mess with you

if he isn’t annoying you on minecraft, he’s poking fun at you every waking second of the day

“hey, hey [y/n], hey, listen, pay attention, [y/n], hey—”

“what do you want?” you snap, frowning at him with puffed cheeks

he shoots you a cheeky grin in return, a devilish gleam flashing across his gaze. “you’re smelly.”

really, it’s like you’ve gotten three new brothers

and in a way, you have

when the four of you all finally meet for the first time

it’s an absolute mess

you oversleep and miss your flight, waking up to a barrage of missed calls from the three of them

soon enough though, you're stumbling into one airport and running out of the next

the three of them stand at the gate waiting for you, a big cardboard sign with your name scrawled across the front in messy, chunky letters

it makes you laugh, and you throw yourself into their arms, your heart swelling in your chest

the drive to the house you all rented is full of bickering and chatter, but when you ask what you guys are going to do tomorrow, the car falls silent

clay grins, his emerald eyes gleaming like stars in the rear view mirror.

“oh, just you wait and see, princess.”

the next day, you’ve got your face pressed up the car window, your lips parted in awe

of course you guys would go to disney world

not that you’re complaining or anything—especially not when clay’s the one paying

you convince them all to buy the iconic mickey mouse ears and wear them with you

and no matter how much he complains about how dumb they look, you don’t miss the way george smiles at the reflection of his ears when you pass a window

you guys are dead-set on doing the four parks challenge, pointing out every ride on the map as you travel from spot to spot

at one point, you all stop for a bathroom break, and you find yourself sitting on a park bench patiently waiting for the boys to come back

you’re flipping through the map when a gust of wind suddenly breezes past you, pushing the map out of your hands and into the open air

in a flash, you’re stumbling up from the bench and rushing through the crowd, chasing after the map

you weave in and out of waves of people, your eyes glued to the soaring page with your arm outstretched

your fingers are about to grab onto the fluttering paper when someone bumps into you from behind, sending you careening to the side

your weight comes crashing down on your ankle as you land on the ground with a thud, pain shooting through your leg and up your insides

tears spring to your eyes as you bite back a muffled whimper, rubbing at your ankle

it must be sprained, you think distantly to yourself

you look up, the crowd surrounding you almost overbearingly as you wince, pain wracking your body

where am i? where’s clay? and george, and sapnap?

you shift your foot, another pang of pain surging through you, and your watery vision blurs even more

you’re about to burst into tears when a hand grips onto your shoulder, familiar and warm

you whip around, sapnap’s concerned gaze scanning your face

behind him stand clay and george

clay’s hands are balled into tight fists at his side, fury rippling across his features

next to him, george’s usually unimpressed expression has shifted to one of pure panic, his eyes wide

“what happened to you?” he asks, his eyes dropping down to your throbbing ankle

at your side, sapnap’s hand squeezes your shoulder ever so gently. “did you sprain your ankle? how badly does it hurt? ar—”

clay cuts him off with a low voice, stormy and full of rage

“who did this?”

your eyes shoot wide open, and you shake your head at him. “it’s no biggie. i was just being dumb, then someone bumped into me.”

when clay’s eyes flash darkly, more words rush out of your mouth. “they didn’t mean to! it was an accident, i promise.”

you reach a hand up toward him, tugging at the hem of his shirt with a pleading look. “please don’t be mad.”

there’s a beat of silence, then clay sighs, shaking his head with a whisper of a smile.

“well, i guess we lost the four parks challenge then, huh?”

you offer a bashful smile as george laughs, rolling his eyes at clay. “that’s the least of our worries right now, dream. let’s just get [y/n] home safe and sound.”

sapnap gets to his feet, crouching in front of you with an easygoing smile, gesturing to his back. “hop on.”

with george’s help, you climb onto sapnap’s back, pressing your check against his shoulder with an apologetic frown, regret tugging at your lips

“sorry this trip didn’t go like we planned.”

the fingers wrapped around your left thigh tap gently against you, reassuring and firm

“don’t be so hard on yourself,” sapnap says gently

your eyelids flutter shut, and while you can’t see his face, you can hear the smile in his voice

“we’re just happy to have you here.”

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ren-therose · 3 years

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The Penthouse Plot

Sherlock X F!Reader (3.8k words)

Summary: Sherlock, John and Reader all go to a penthouse party to pick up some clues about their newest case. But Y/N and Sherlock are put in a compromising situation.

Warnings: smut 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), creampie, squirting, after care

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

“We are going to a party”

This was an incredibly abrupt statement from the detective who was still in pajamas at four in the afternoon, slouched down into the arm chair with the news paper covering his face. I couldn’t see his emotions, but I could tell that the idea had already been formulated, and he had not quite been excited out of it. His boredom was chronic, and it would often times only be soothed by myself to get him out of it.

The first time we met, I was sitting on a park bench in Paddington Street Gardens, not but two blocks away from his flat. As if drawn to the cigarette I was smoking, he walked up as casually as he could, coat turned up, and sat on the bench over from my left. I didn’t look, but I was aware that a tall, dark man was watching me as I tried to solve today's crossword in the paper.

He leaned closer, trying to take in the smoke for the nicotine high. With a slight glance his way, it was all I needed to take the cigarette from my mouth in my left hand, and casually rest it on the bench next to me. I blew out the smoke to the right side of my mouth though, purposefully keeping it from him, allowing my lips to guide the smoke in a stream to dissipate into the morning air. Still looking at the crossword, I began filling in 20 across, feeling a sense of intrigue and frustration emanating from the man next to me.

“It’s not diva, its aria,” a deep voice says. I smirk, not looking up to his face quite yet.

“No shit, Sherlock. 18 down is ‘erie’, so why would I put down diva?” I inquire, but before he could answer, I reply myself. “I was proving my hypothesis: is the detective next to me just trying to second-hand smoke, or is he actually paying attention to me? And the answer was both.”

He stands and comes to sit on my right side, not looking at me directly. The cigarette dangling from my lip wasn’t his main concern anymore.

“How quickly did you realize it is only an herbal cigarette Mr. Holmes?” I ask, erasing my trap from 20 across.

“As soon as I first looked at you. You have no stains on your fingers from the smoke, as well as no burns, which tells me you don’t smoke often. If you were a smoker, you would need at least a pack a day, and these tell-tale signs would be there. You don’t need to smoke because there isn’t an addiction. I presume you do it to attract men, though possibly women too, and to fit into the culture of London, as you are not from here. But you specifically looked up this park because you were looking for something or someone. I would presume it is me, considering you recognized me through my name” he says smuggly, finally looking at me. I didn’t know it then, but he later explained that he was shocked to see the prominence of my “subtle beauty”, and the way in which I held posture in every way that symbolized I was relaxed next to him. This of course was followed by the fact that I was so comfortable that I had gained a pound within the first year of knowing him.

“So you are as good as they say,” I reply, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Those eyes dart down to my lips where the cigarette is still being held by the moisture of my mouth. I remove it, holding out the cigarette between my fingers. “I can imagine it is worlds different from a regular cigarettes addictive effects, but the smell of smoke and the herbs inside might calm you,” I offer. He leans down and takes the cigarette in his mouth, inhaling deeply. I let go of the cigarette as he leans back and removes it. He exhales out, happy to have something other than CO2 leave his lungs.

“You could have phoned” he said nonchalantly. I closed the newspaper and turned my body slightly more towards him.

“No I couldn’t. This isn’t about a case or me looking for my parents or some shit. I needed you to listen. I am a doctor and I am looking for the topic of my next publication” I state. His eyes widen a bit, as he gives me a once over. I was quite young to have a doctorate, but the ambition I have was intriguing to him.

“Great, another doctor. And you must study some form of psychology right?” he implies.

I chuckle as I brush the hair behind my ear to look at him as I explain my credentials.

“BA in a social science and a minor in Women's Studies and Gender, just to make it easier on you. Two masters in something to do with policy and a knack for behavior trends across cultures. A PhD in…” I trail off to let him figure it out.

“International Relations. You couldn’t let go of the need to work abroad and help other. You also study the difference in human behaviors and how it can be interpreted and persuaded. It is why you are now living in London, after living in a southern European country, and I’m going to go with Italy” he responds.

I raise my eyebrow at him. “Italy was fun. I spent most of the time on the mainland with a friend and would visit their family in Sardinia”.

“He was gay wan’t he?”

“Not that he himself knew.”

The detective laughed. It was the beginning of a friendship, with many late nights, bad coffee and fighting. I lived in the basement of 221 Baker Street, after coming to a bargain price with Mrs. Hudson if I agreed to get rid of the black mold and redo the space for future renters. When I asked her why she was already thinking of future renters, she just smiled and told me Sherlock's door was open and I could just walk in.

Now, a year and a half later, I was in his flat, in my own night gown and robe, working on pot of tea to make a London foggy, one of Sherlocks favorite drinks I could make. I had told him that if he got to work in his pajamas, or just a sheet at times, then he couldn’t expect anything less of me. But his abrupt statement that we were going to a party had me do a double take.

“A party? Are we feeling like clubbing tonight Sherlock?” I tease.

“It is just a bit of field work. But I need you to come with as my date so that I am not bothered by lonely, sad women.”

“Ah yes. All the lonely, sad women will flock to the handsome, cocky detective for comfort and an inquisitive night,” I mock, bringing the tea to him.

“Isn’t that what you did?” He says without looking up.

Offended, I grab the paper from his hands and smack him on the head with it. He flinched, protecting his tea from me.

“Haven’t you figured it out by now? I’m here for John” I say, tossing the paper into his lap. Sherlocks mouth slightly gapes before he snaps it shut, looking behind me.

“I’m sorry, what did I just walk in on?” John says from the doorway. Sherlock turns red as I walk up to John, pulling my leg up on him, placing my hand on his cheek while giving him a lingering kiss on the other, maintaining eye contact with Sherlock. “Afternoon John,” I say with a flirtatious growl. He didn’t move since my dramatic act, and as I exited the apartment to get ready, I hear John exclaim “I could get used to that kind of welcome”. I laugh as I hear the paper get thrown at the doctor.

Two hours later, and a lot of fighting with a curling wand, I hear a knock at my door. I do a once-over of myself in the mirror. It was a high-end party, requiring a more put together look, and I was determined to look my best. In helping Sherlock and John, I realized that I rarely dressed up-practicality and professionalism is key.

I put my phone into my handbag, and slipped my feet into my black pointed stilettos. One more once-over in the mirror next to the door, and I unlatched the lock. As soon as I opened it, the detective couldn’t help but let his eyes wander. My hair was in loose curls around my face, and the dress, oh the dress, flattered my body in every way. It was a silk green dress, that hugged every curve. It was ruched in the sides, creating a tight draping across my abdomen. The fabric on my bust sat just below the tops of my breasts, and dropped to my off-the-shoulder sleeves. I was wearing a simple emerald necklace with matching earrings, and a ruby ring on my left hand. My legs were well accentuated, and the stilettos did wonders for my posture. Still, I was the same girl in pajamas at this now well suited man's place as I was now.

“You’re giving yourself away Detective,” I flirt, walking by him to climb the stairs to the front of the building. I make extra care to add a little movement as I climb, knowing he would be right behind me and very distracted. It was my favorite game to tease both of the boys, but especially Sherlock. It was always a game, and he loved games. As I exited the building, John was waiting for us outside, also dressed sharply. His eyes widened as I walked towards him.

“In the words of a great detective, ‘Your body betrays you’ John. It’s still me inside this get-up. Now where is the cab?” I ask.

“Umm...uh, there hasn’t been an available one yet...” he forces out.

London was busy on a Saturday night, and it could often be difficult to find a cab. Lucky for us, my dress is pretty reflective, and I was going to use that to my advantage. I stepped off the curb just slightly, jutting out my shoulder blades and putting my weight on one foot to give myself more shape. By the time I had raised my hand, two taxis pulled up. I heard a cough behind me, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson both smirking at me.

“I’m sorry, did you have a better idea?” I shoot at them. I open the door for myself and climb into the cab. The two men clambered in after me.

The party was at a lovely high-rise in the middle of London. It looked to be a penthouse, but one grander than I had ever seen. As the three of us exited the elevator, we looked at each other once more, setting our plan in motion. John was to walk around and mingle, while Sherlock and I were to snoop about the place, looking for context clues. I grabbed a flute of champagne from one of the trays, and Sherlock and I began our promenade. We quickly realized that I was drawing a bit too much attention in my get-up and we would need to look around before people noticed we were gone. Our arms entwined, we strolled past the main crowd into a hallway, casually chatting the weather. The detectives hand was on my waist, holding tightly, as though I might leave his side. It was different than they way he usually grabbed my arm to move me around or out of the way of harm.

We were looking for the bedroom of our hosts place, though, it did not seem there was one here. The penthouse was more of a party pad then a living space, which lends more to our profile of him. We continued to walk, and came across a study. His hand slid off my waist as he entered the room. I stood outside with my drink, while Sherlock took note of every little detail there. As he came out of the room though, I heard footprints coming round the corner. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into the bathroom next to the study. As I pushed him in, our eyes searched each other for the next move that we hadn’t initially planned. Though we were going as a date, it was never really a date. Until now.

Grabbing the lapels of the detectives suit, I slammed my lips on his, pushing us both backwards onto the sink. Knowing that he was more recognizable. I spun him around so that my back was to the sink and his was to the door. I jumped on to the sink, hiking up my dress a little higher, so that I could hook one leg around his waist. Instinctively, his right hand went to my leg to hold it up, and his left hand was in my hair.

His lips. I had seen them a million times before, studying his face as he rambled about a case. While he was just a colleague and possibly a friend, there were a few times when I would fall asleep thinking about those lips. And here he was, kissing me on a bathroom sink at a party, with enough force to make me melt into it. My hand went to his hair, as he began to trail kisses down my neck, hiding his face in me so that his reflection could not be seen. My other hand was gripping his waist, trying not to slip into the sink itself. My shoe was dangling on my toes as our bodies continued to crash. We heard the door click open, and my eyes opened to see the host and his assistant wide-eyed at us.

“Occupied,” I panted, smiling with a small wave. The two quickly shut the door, their footprints receding down the hallway. As soon as it was quiet, Sherlock froze on my collarbone, neither of us moving for a moment. I removed my hand from his hair, trying to pat it back into place. He stood up, and looked down at me. My dress had ridden up further, and my black lace panties were definitely on display. So was the red in both of our faces. I glanced over his shoulder to look at the door, realizing that there was a lock on it. Sherlock didn’t look back. He kept his eyes on me.

He knew there was a lock. He wanted the situation. He wanted to get caught.

“Lock it” I demanded.

He took a few steps back and turned the button, locking the door. His eyes didn’t leave me. I was still propped up against the sink, both hands propped up behind me. My legs had still been open, and as his eyes raked over my body looked, I grew self-conscious and went to close them. But he stepped towards me, grabbing my lower thigh. I hesitantly opened myself back up for him. His hand moved up my thigh, while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing himself closer to me. I placed a hand on his chest, running it up until it was at the nape of his neck, playing with his soft, black curls. I gently tugged him toward me, and our lips attached once more. This time, it was more more sensual. Taking the time to just allow ourselves to feel one another. As he pulled away, I let out a small gasp as I felt his growing bulge against my clothed core.

He seized the opportunity to kiss me again, letting his tongue wander and explore my mouth, pulling me as close as I could be to him. He pushed himself against me, causing a soft moan to escape, as I involuntarily rolled against him. He smirked against my mouth, moving once more against me. I hissed, feeling myself grow wetter.

Sherlock pulled me off the sink, wrapping both of my legs around him before pinning me against the wall. I was sitting just on top of his cock, and the friction was even more frustrating. I grinded down on him, kissing his neck, while leaving small bites in between. I needed more though. I unwrapped my legs, and he lowered me to the ground. When he placed me down, I kissed him with passion while I started to undo his trousers. He walked backwards to the sink, leaning up against it, as I palmed him through his suit. His low groan made me quiver as I licked a long stripe up his neck to his ear, wear I softly bit the lobe. This drove him crazy.

Pants still undone, he whipped us around so that I was against the sink again. He pulled my dress up enough so that he could hook his fingers in the lace of my panties and pull them down. He lifted me up on to the sink to get them off of me. He worked them past my heels, and placed both of his hands on my thighs, rubbing circles into them with his thumb. His forehead was resting on mine and we were both breathing in sync. I opened my legs for him, as he traced his way between my legs. The violinist in him was showing, and he was going to work out the tension and boredom he had been feeling all day. His fingers came in contact with me, running through my folds. He went from my clit down to my opening, just toying with me. I let out a whimper as he placed his middle finger just barely inside of me. He slowly pushed his digit inside of me, causing a guttural groan to escape. I bucked into his hand, desperate for more. He pumped it casually, as if he had done this to me a million times and knew how I would react. He then slipped a second finger into me, causing me to emit another moan.

“Please Sherlock. No games,” was all I could manage.

He began to pump his fingers in a come-hither motion, curling them to hit my g-spot. I gasped with every movement, keeping as quiet as I could. He was working his way to get me as wet as I could be for him. I was starting to feel the tension in my stomach build when he placed his thumb on my clit and made sharp movements with it. I cried out, gripping his shoulders for support. I was going to need him soon if he wanted to me to finish with his cock inside me. But he kept pumping and rubbing, watching as my face conveyed every emotion he had ever made me feel. My arm wrapped around his neck, as I could barely keep myself up anymore.

“Sherlock, you-you’re gonna..m-make me..c-cum…” I stutter out. I am rocking against his hand, chasing what I can’t stop. This only urges him more, as he quickens his pace. Without warning, I cum all over his finger with a cry. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to work my pussy, until I gasp out “I’m...I’m gonna squirt”. He steps out from between my legs, his fingers not stopping. As he steps to the side, he leans in to my ear and finally says something.

“Show me”.

It was all it took for my orgasm to elongate itself, as I squirted on his hand. I couldn’t stop and was shaking, barely able to keep myself up. I almost crumpled backwards before he caught me. Once again, he was between my legs, his hands on my neck and waist. I reached for his painfully hard cock, pulling it from his pants. I started stroking him, causing his eyes to flutter close. I was still coming down from what he had done with just his fingers, but I needed his dick inside me. I looked up at him, and said something that I knew would only boost his ego, and he would probably use against me later.

“Mr. Holmes, I need you inside me, now”.

His eyes shot open, as I looked back at him with lust-blown eyes. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, slowly pumping him. He and his god-complex were completely enamoured with my new take of teasing him. I lined his cock at my entrance, but not before teasing him through my folds. Just that little movement caused goosebumps to erupt on my skin. As I put his tip in my entrance, he searched my eyes once more for the consent he needed. I pushed myself onto him a little, letting him know he could take me. He leaned in, pushing his length all the way into me. I let out a loud gasp, wrapping my arm around his neck once more, my other hand on his back. I was still throbbing from my previous orgasm, and I knew he could feel my warm pulse inside me. He slowly pulled out, and then quickly sheathed himself inside me again. Our pelvises were against each other and his gently movements drove me crazy. I let out a cry of ecstasy, letting my head roll back, exposing my neck. He kissed it gently, and then, lifted me off the counter and back against the wall. All I could do was struggle to remain quiet as he began quick thrusts deep into me, relentlessly hitting my sweet spot. He was open mouthed against my neck, breathing erratically as he continued to hold me up.

“You feel, s-so g-good,” I moaned, urging him to continue. He loved it when I complimented him, he had always been that way. But to be inside me as I told him how much I loved his cock, it was heaven for him. The guttural sounds from his throat proved to me that he felt the same.

“Y/n, I’m not gonna last much longer” he said, as though it would deter me. As he began to remove himself, I grabbed his face to look at me.

“I want you to cum inside, Detective,” I whisper, wrapping my legs tighter around him to prove my point.

His eyes widened searching my face as I was in taking all of him, bouncing on his dick in a penthouse bathroom, loving everything he did. Seeing what he could do to me, looking into my eyes as I stifled my moans, he began to stutter inside of me. I was on the edge too, and when his hot rope of cum shooted inside of me, my own orgasm exploded, milking him of the rest of his cum.

When we had both stilled, frozen with him still inside me, we could hear the party still going and the noise of London below us. He pulled his softening cock from me and as he did, our cum dripped down my thigh. My legs were incredibly weak, as he continued to hold me up. I reached for a hand towel to clean me up, but he beat me to it, wiping up and between my legs, careful not to cause pain from the sensitivity. He picked up my underwear that he had tossed on the ground somewhere, and helped me step back into it. I was still shaky if I bent my legs, but I knew he would hold me up. As we looked at each other, there was something new we both saw. Romance. The sexual chemistry that had been there was a response to the catalyst of romance.

Before we could discuss the aftermath of our actions though, there was a loud banging on the door. Smoothing out my dress just past the door, Sherlock opened it to find John, arms crossed, waiting outside.

“Are you shitting me Sherlock? You look like you just took a hit of something. Did you seriously lose Y/N at this party because you were trying to get hi…”

The door widened to reveal me, just behind Sherlock, makeup slightly down my fae, and both of our hair tousled. I smiled at John, knowing it wasn’t what he had expected. His jaw dropped, “Tha..you were,,,um...has this been long or...?” Dr. Watson stuttered.

“No John, that was the first time and it won’t be the last” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him.

“Don’t be too jealous John,” I said with a wink.

John didn’t know what to say except, “Are we done here?”

Sherlock and I walked arm in arm down the hallway, casting back a look at John as if to say “What do you think?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was my first oneshot and was it trash? Yeah, maybe. So if you know me, no you don’t :)

Leave suggestions if you’d like, I’m writing smut I can’t find.

#sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #sherlock bbc #benedict cumberbatch #cumberbitches

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nikethestatue · 3 years

Text

Name Day

Thanks to @tswaney17 for the inspiration and the idea! Sometimes this is what happens one afternoon when we start thinking of Azriel’s and Elain’s baby’s names.

Her whimsical tale of Elain’s and Bryaxis’ friendship can be found here It’s a good prep for this story

This is the continuation of my Azriel and Elain’s baby story The Depth of Your Eyes which can be found here

No warnings. Fluff and babies.

Name Day

“Will you calm down?” Nesta asked. She was shaking her head, wearing nothing but a satin slip, as she was brushing her hair.

“I am down!” Cassian retorted, eyeing himself in the mirror, smoothing his hair.

“You’d think you are a maid on your first courting,” muttered Nesta, as she began to braid her hair slowly, amused by her mate, as he preened before the mirror.

“I want to look appropriate,” he explained. “We are Guardians. It’s an important position.”

“Yes, I know. But this is the fifth or sixth shirt that you’ve tried on. We are coordinating colours. Your outfit is all ready and waiting and I don’t understand why you are fussing so much,” she slid on the bed and cooed to the baby, who was observing all this commotion with quiet amusement.

“Gods, he is a puffball,” it was Cassian’s turn to shake his head, watching the baby in the reflection of the mirror.

“He is a little fatty,” Nesta agreed, “but he is already dressed and ready to go. While you…”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian looked at the shirt that Nesta had selected and began re-dressing for the fifth time today. “Do we still not know the name?”

She shrugged. “No.”

He proposed, “what if it’s something really strange?”

Nesta rolled her eyes slightly, as she slipped into her powder-blue velvet and lace gown, and approached her mate, her bare back turned to him. He began buttoning her up, without her prompting, while kissing her neck gently.

“He is watching,” she reminded him, but her eyes closed and she stroked his cheek, as her head lay on his shoulder.

“He is a baby.”

“He is Azriel’s baby,” she noted. “He is always watching!”

Cassian huffed in agreement. Azriel’s baby did indeed watch everything and everyone with interest and calm assertion, as if planning a strategy in his head. He reclined in some bouncy contraption, his short arms thick with multiple folds, and resting contently on his round belly. For a month-old infant, he sure looked like he was about six months at least. And not only because of his impressive heft, but also his scrutinizing gaze, that floated from object to person, taking in every detail.

Cassian cupped Nesta’s bottom in his wide palm and squeezed lightly,

“You want to…” he murmured hotly in her ear and she screeched in response, “Noooo! Are you insane? We are not doing that in front of our baby nephew.”

“We can turn him around,” Cassian suggested, unrelenting.

“Get dressed!” she snapped.

Cassian offered a petulant sigh in response and she stepped out of his arms, while he began buttoning his own shirt.

“So, no name?”

“How complicated can it be?” she pondered, stretching on the bed, and offering a rattle to the baby, who wasn’t hugely entertained by it, but took it nevertheless. “He is Elain and Azriel’s son. They are not…They are not you,” she added at last.

“What about me?”

“Well, they are not going to name him Stormwind Lightning Strike Archeron. Or Fireheart Blazing Ruby Archeron,”

“Both,” he interrupted her quickly, snapping his fingers, “are excellent names! I am putting them on the list.”

“No list!”

“Yes, they go on the list,” he insisted.

“You know,” she stroked her nephew’s soft black curl on top of his round head, “it will be something elegant and simple. Oren. Lorien. Rivendell… Something like that.”

“Boring,” huffed Cassian, finally slipping into his trousers.

At first, he wanted to go to the ceremony in full armour, to bring his nephew into the ‘warrior spirit’ right away, according to him. Elain gently suggested that perhaps, that’s a little much for a baby naming ceremony.

The door to Nesta’s River Manor opened quietly and Azriel slipped in.

“What’s boring?” he asked with a smile. Especially when his baby boy almost leapt from his bouncy seat at the sight of him. “Hello, my love,” he whispered, sitting on the bed and immediately kissing the baby’s little fist. “I’ve missed you already…Mama is still getting dressed. And she is going to be the most beautiful mama in the world,” he glanced at Nesta, “well, I mean,”

Nesta smiled and waved her hand dismissively, “She will be. Besides, I am not a mama,”

“Not yet,” piped Cassian quickly.

“Not yet a mama,” she agreed peacefully, “so Elain can claim the title.”

She observed the normally cool, composed, detached shadowsinger absolutely disintegrate in front of his son into a puddle of loving coos, belly rubs and kisses. She’d seen him soft and loving and gentle with Elain, which was an unusual sight in itself, but this was something else entirely.

“So, what’s boring?” Azriel remembered, as he rocked the baby against his chest.

“The name…Are we ever going to find out?” Cassian inquired, tightening his belt and looking at Azriel. “As Guardians, don’t you think we should know?”

“Oh, and you think my baby’s name will be boring?” Azriel cocked his brow.

“Well, it’s not going to be Thunderheart Powerwarrior,” muttered Nesta under her breath.

“I didn’t say that,” Cassian argued quickly.

Azriel gave him a measured look and then offered a resigned sigh, “I suppose you should know,”

“What is it?” exclaimed Cassian eagerly, rubbing his hands. Nesta perked up as well, “Yes, what is it?”

“Bryaxis,” said Azriel calmly, kissing his son’s cheek.

Cassian paled.

Nesta blanched.

“Are you fucking nuts?” groaned Cassian, a terrified expression on his face.

Nesta, who stood near him, elbowed him, muttering, “stop cursing in front of an infant!”

“An infant that these deranged parents want to name Bryaxis!” bellowed Cassian.

Then, Cassian stepped forwards and extended his arms, “No. No. Give me the baby!”

“Why?” Azriel pressed his son a little closer.

“No. You cannot be trusted with a child!” growled Cassian, his eyes blazing, “Absolutely not! Pfff,” he huffed loudly, “Bryaxis! Bryaxis!”

He was then almost speechless, just shaking his head silently, giving Nesta wild looks.

“Umm,” she interjected quietly, “are you sure?” she looked imploringly at Azriel. This was a shock indeed. What in the seven hells were they thinking?

“You know Bryaxis is Elain’s friend,” reminded them Azriel, a smile playing on his lips. “So, we thought,”

“No,” snarled Cassian. “Give me the kid! Right now,”

“Are you going to run away with him?” inquired Azriel.

“If I have to. If I must save him and keep him away from you two crazies, then yes!”

“He is still my son,”

“Not anymore. Not when you decided to name him Bryaxis!”

“But Bryaxis is a,”

“Shut up, Az,” Cassian visibly shuddered at the memory.

He never did accept Elain’s friendship with the monster that was Fear itself. Never understood how she willingly went to the depths of Library to chat with the Darkness and allowed it to roam the gardens of her villa. Thankfully, it was secluded enough not to have Bryaxis terrify everyone in sight.

“He is your neighbour,” reminded him Azriel with a chuckle. “He actually lives in your house!”

“Hey, it’s not because I invited him!” argued Cassian. “If you want it, you can have it, and it can live in your house! Since your wife is such good friends with it.”

The door was thrown open after a sharp knock and Mor appeared on the doorstep, “What is the delay?!!” she demanded by way of her greeting.

Before anyone could respond, she ordered, “Come on! Let’s go! Everyone is waiting,”

Azriel handed the baby to Nesta, and whispered something in her ear.

“Please don’t run away with my child,” he begged his brother.

Cassian begged, “Please don’t name your child Bryaxis! Az, ple-“

But Azriel disappeared in a swirl of his shadows.

It was a lovely, sunny morning. The emerald green lawn of the River Estate was set up with benches and chairs, which were decorated with ribbons and the colours of the Night Court and Azriel’s cobalt blue.

The small group of guests were seated, informally, around a gazebo that was made of branches and decorated with garlands of blue flowers of every colour and hue. Azriel and Elain stood there, hand in hand, waiting for the Guardians to bring the baby forth.

At last, Cassian and Nesta appeared, Cassian holding an Illyrian shield, which was draped in Azriel’s baby blanket. Somehow, Azriel’s mother kept the simple, worn thing all these years, patching it over the centuries, to keep it presentable just for this occasion. Upon the shield, the baby lay, tugging on his feet, trying to roll over the edge, and being barely contained by his nervous aunt.

At last, Cassian and Nesta stopped under the gazebo. Cassian’s eyes were pleading with a silent lament, looking at his brother.

He didn’t hear half of what Rhys was saying. The baby was being welcomed into the fold of its people, as a citizen and son of the Night Court, as an Illyrian warrior, and as a son and protector of his people. Nesta finally grabbed the future ‘protector of his people’ off the damn shield, before he could tumble onto the grass below.

Cassian mutely shook his head, giving Azriel a death stare.

Once a bit of honey was dabbed onto the baby’s lips—for a sweet life—Feyre asked,

“Who names this child?”

“We do,” said Elain and Azriel in unison.

“What name will the child carry?” asked the baby’s grandmother.

With a heavy sight, Cassian joined Nesta’s hand in covering the baby’s head and then,

“Elessar Ramiel,” said Nesta loudly.

Cassian’s eyes blew wide. He whipped his head to Azriel and Elain, who were trying to stifle their laughter, shaking soundlessly against each other, looking at him.

Under the shield, he flashed both of them a vulgar gesture.

Well, at least it wasn’t Lanthys.

“Elessar Ramiel Archeron,” Cassian then repeated loudly alongside Nesta.

#azriel #azriel and elain #elriel #elain #elain archeron #cassian #nesta #elriel fanfic #my writing #nessian fanfiction #nessian #cassian and nesta

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hoboal87 · 4 years

Text

In Secret

Title: In Secret

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jensen have been in a secret relationship for five years, and she wants more.

Warnings: Angst, Affair, Open Relationship, Oral (F receiving), Implied Smut, Jensen Is A Bit Of An Ass

A/N: This is my entry for @winchesterxfamilybusiness “Make Me Swoon” writing challenge! My prompt is “I’m tired of being your secret.”

A/N 2: Y’all, I never expected such an overwhelming positive response to this one-shot! This will soon be a multi-part series, I’ve already started working on the next part, but I don’t know if I’ll get anything posted before Elastic Heart is complete.

A/N 3: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS COMMENTED/REBLOGGED/ASKED TO BE TAGGED!

No Beta all mistakes are mine.

The air is thick around you, the smell of sex filling every inch of your room. You could die just like this, here, with the man you love, holding you tight against him as you both come down from your highs. He rolls you both over, his hand gently rubbing over your stomach, inching down to your sore and swollen pussy. You groan when he dips a finger into wet heat.

“I love cumming in you,” he whispers, gently biting at your ear, and you can feel his smile. “Wish I could do it every day.” He starts pumping his finger, tightening the coil again, and you bite back another moan.

“Mmm,” you hum as he sinks another finger in, his thumb brushes over your clit. You reach behind you, palming his half-hard cock. “You could, y'know.”

The atmosphere between you changes in an instant, he huffs, and pulls away from you, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You should’ve known this is how he would react, every time you breach the subject it always ends the same way. The guilt you both feel, the lying, all of it comes to the surface, rearing its ugly head.

“Just tell her,“ you beg as he leaves your bed. "That’s the whole point of your agreement, isn’t it?” He doesn’t respond, reaching down to grab his once hastily discarded jeans off the floor. “She gets to fuck whoever she wants and so do you.”

“This is different, Y/N. You know that,” he sighs and steps into his jeans.

“Why?” You sit up, using the sheet to keep yourself covered. “Tell me, Jensen. Why is this different? Why is okay for her to think that your out fucking some random girl instead of me?”

“Y/N,” Jensen turns around, his emerald eyes staring you down. “It’s more complicated than that. We-” he gestures between you, “we have a history. You don’t think she knows about our past?”

“Our past?” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “We were friends. There’s nothing in our past, we didn’t even start any of this until after you two were together. You had years- years Jay, to do something about that. You knew how I felt about you, but instead you jumped from girl to girl and I was the one who had to put you back together, she doesn’t get to take all the credit.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this fight with Jensen. Every time they go on hiatus you beg him to stay just a few days longer, knowing that it would be almost two months before he’d be back. You know deep down that it isn’t fair, he spends nine months out of the year in Vancouver, and when he’s here it’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. You and Jensen couldn’t go out in public, not even as “friends,” all it would take was one ill-timed photo to throw both of your worlds into utter chaos.

Being the other woman came with its own set of rules. When it all started you were just happy to be able to be with him, even if that meant it began and ended at the threshold of your home. When you were together you were the only two people in the world, you didn’t discuss her or the fact that she was pregnant. You, in particular, were allowing yourself to live in ignorant bliss cherishing everything he had to give you. You never thought you were the type of person who’d be having an affair with anyone, let alone Jensen, but you can’t help yourself from falling into bed with him every time he comes over.

You’d gone to high school together, and for four years you waited patiently for him to ask you out on a date. Instead, he dated one of your friends, biting your tongue when he told you about their relationship ending; you knew it wouldn’t last.

You went your separate ways after high-school, you’d stayed in Texas to go to college, and he’d gone off to Hollywood, you’d kept in touch through the years. Reconnecting when you’d moved to Vancouver for your job. It started out as harmless flirting, double entendres, and teasing.

The first time you slept together it wasn’t something either of you had planned. She was in L.A. working on her latest movie, and you were still on the rebound from your latest break-up. It was a night of too many drinks and loneliness drove your actions. You kept your distance from each other in the weeks that followed, sorting out your feelings, unsure if it was a one-time drunken mistake or the start of something real.

The second time you were both sober. He’d come over to discuss what happened; how he would never cheat on her, he was in love with her, he wanted to marry her. You tried to understand, Jensen was always a fantasy, someone who you could never have. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him over sex. You both agreed to put it behind you, never discuss it again, “pretend it never happened,” he insisted. It nearly killed you, but you nodded hesitantly.

He reached out to squeeze your knee, and you made your way towards the front door. You fidgeted with your hands as you entered the front walkway, not wanting him to leave. There was a hesitation as Jensen reached for the doorknob, and you pulled him in for a hug, melting your body into him. Before you knew what was happening, your lips were on his, wanting, needing more. He had you caged against the wall, hands pawing at you, lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and he ground himself against you. His mouth never left yours as he carried you to your bedroom, dropping you playfully on the bed.

Jensen rid himself of his shirt while you shed your own, desperate to have his skin against yours. The first time was messy, rushed, this time you wanted to take your time, appreciate every moment that you were having with him. He placed sweet wet kisses over your breasts, making his way down, tugging at your jeans to expose your soaked panties. You lifted your hips as he hooked his fingers around them, pulling them along with your jeans down, tossing them onto the floor.

Jensen placed gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, you could feel him smiling against your skin as he moved towards your aching pussy. His eyes met yours, giving you a final chance to stop him. “Please, Jay,” you murmured. Each swipe of his tongue was pure ecstasy, you reached down for him, holding his face closer to you.

You try to clench your legs around him, but he keeps them apart, eyes flicking up at you as you fall apart. He continues his assault on your cunt, removing one hand, and teasing you with his finger. You groaned as it slid through your folds up to your clit, pressing down as his tongue fucked into you. Unable to make any intelligible sounds, you heard a low chuckle come from him as two fingers entered your weeping hole.

He pumped them fast, spurring you on as you felt the coil tightening. You felt yourself clenching around him and you breathing grew heavier, his fingers finding your sweet spot, brushing it again and again as his mouth focused on your bundle of nerves. You lost all control of yourself when he added a third finger, cumming hard on his face.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he pulled away. He climbed up your body, placing wet kisses over you until he was hovering above you. His cock was hard and ready, precum leaking from the tip, you gently wrapped your hand around him, and he let out a soft groan as you slowly began to pump him. He kissed you passionately and you could taste the release of your climax on his lips.

“I love you, Jay,” you whimper. It wasn’t something you were ever planning on admitting to him, or to yourself, but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear as you guided him towards your entrance. Jensen’s eyes bore deep into you, studying your face as you took in his words.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, “fuck me.”

Jensen doesn’t move; you know he doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m tired of being your secret,” you huff. “It’s been five years.”

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He shouts, throwing his hands into his hair. “She’s my wife, the mother of my children. You want me to throw it all away?”

You try to stammer out a response, but he continues, pacing in front your bed.

“You act like this is easy for me, it isn’t. I told you after that second time, I’m never going to leave her. You said you could accept that. That’s the only reason we continued this. She’s paranoid enough about you as it is, and you want me to tell her that we’ve been sleeping together for the past five years, how do you think that will make her feel?”

“How will it make her feel?” you scoff. “What about how I feel? My feelings don’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N.”

“I’ve kept my feelings to myself for years, Jay. I’ve tried to be understanding, I haven’t asked you for anything. I don’t push the subject, but I’m tired, Jay.”

He paces in front of you, muttering to himself.

“I want you, Jay, you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you whisper, it’s something you both know, but you never planned to say it out loud. “I broke up with Steven for you.”

“He never deserved you, sweetheart,” he says, and a smile creeps upon your face. For a moment you think that he’ll admit that he wants more with you.

"You never like anyone I date, Jay,” you chuckle slightly, “I think it because you’re jealous.”

Jensen’s body stiffens, and you know immediately that he doesn’t like your joke. He grabs his shirt off the dresser and pulls it over his head before storming out of the room.

“Jensen, babe, I was just-” you follow him out, quickly pulling on a camisole and yoga pants, not bothering with underwear. “Jay, it was a joke.”

“We both know it wasn’t Y/N,“ he snaps back and your smile quickly fades. "You think I like watching you parade with some douche? You wanna slut around with some fuckin’ prick, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Jay,” you hiss. “You don’t get to act like some jealous boyfriend. You’ve made it very clear just now, that I am not your girlfriend or whatever you wanna call this.”

“You’re right, babygirl, I’m not,” he huffs, “and I’m never going to be. I’m never going to be yours, Y/N. If I wanted that, I would’ve made my move a long time ago.” Jensen’s words are like stabs to your heart, and you try to conceal the tears forming in your eyes. “I chose her over you, I’ll always choose her over you.”

There’s a flash of regret playing on his face. There they were; the words that you knew were coming sooner or later. You’d hoped he’d never say them, that the two of you could go on the way you had been for years in denial. He remains stoic as you use every ounce of willpower to not break down in front of him.

"We’re never gonna be more than this, Y/N,” he says softly. “You have to know that.”

“Y'know Jay, if you wanted this to stay casual,” you wipe the tears away, “all you had to do was say so. You’re so concerned about her, but she’s in Austin ‘slutting around’ as you delicately put it, sleeping with who knows how many people-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” Jensen screamed, and your heart fell into your stomach. He’s never yelled at you like this before, you pushed him too far this time, letting your own jealousy take over. “Don’t talk about what goes on in my relationship with my wife. She is nothing like you, she doesn’t spread her legs every time someone gives her the time of day.”

“You fucking asshole!” You yell, picking up everything that you could get your hands on, and throwing it at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Y/N,” he tries to reason with you, blocking himself from the barrage of items being thrown at him. “Baby, listen.”

“No!” You push him towards the front door and he stumbles backwards into the hallway.

“Y/N,” Jensen reaches out to soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t touch me,” you slap his hand away. “You’re never gonna touch me again,” you push him again, moving him closer to the door. “You can go back to your perfect wife, your perfect family. Congratulations, Jay. You don’t have to choose. We’re done.”

Part 2

#jensen ackles #jensen x reader #implied smut #angst #makemeswoon #sabrina's 250 follower writing challenge

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

diamond trail finale — myg

Plot: The theft of his most elusive and mystery possession leads to a web of trickery that threatens every large syndicate in the country. (alternative: Yoongis’ prized possession is stolen but he’s not the only gang leader being betrayed)

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Yoongi x Consigliere!Y/N

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k+

Genre: Mafia | Marriage | Mature Themes/Fluff/Smut

Tags & Warnings: criminal activities, mentions of past abuse (outside of the pair), explicit smut (spanking and very brief anal play), mild violence, coarse language, prostitution, slightly more graphic physical violence in this part (it’s brief but beware)

Authors Note: here's the finale peeps! hope you like how I ended everything off! as usual, let me know what you think of this story and a like/reblog/comment go a long way!

Nectar Oak still had the same atmosphere as it did all those years ago. The smell of allspice flowers and jasmines, plumes of smoke flowing out of the customers’ mouth as their wallets emptied and cheeks glowed from excitement. All the workers held themselves up with the elegance of a geisha despite knowing they’d never be considered to such a standard. You looked up at the height of the building. How much bigger it looked when your mother used to hold your hand walk you around the streets just for some fresh air.

You felt like a ghost eerily wandering the place an old part of you died. You didn’t miss it but you could feel her. The innocence of hoping that you’d never have to work here and the relief of finding a better life. Not the best life. It was still filled with tears and suffering but at least here, she was in power. And she had the people she loved.

Silk red robe draped upon your form, resemblant of a traditional hanbok twisted and ‘modernized’ to create an erotic appeal. Golden vectors curled to accentuate your waist, the band covered your torso to enhance the curve of you breasts and you hair loosely tied by a gold clip encrusted in emeralds. You habitually touched your finger but found it empty, a small twinge of anxiety grew heavy in your chest.

*With a deep reluctant breath, you pulled off your wedding ring, hugging it to your chest before carefully placing it in a jewelry box for safe keeping.

When Yoongi saw you, a cold wave washed over him. Like the cruel turns of time twisted back to those days where he felt the walls closing in on him. Preventing him from holding onto his parents’ legacy for his mother and building his own family. His heart already dropped into the pit but he still noticed the ache. “Let’s get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.*

The owner of Nectar Oak became one of your connections. A solid reminder that things were not as it used to be. You talked to him like you were his equal rather than a worker. He also had enough brains to know he wasn’t talking to a random worker anymore. He was speaking to someone who could break his business in a blink. The thought of it caused sweat to drop on the sides of his temple.

“You know how to promote me, Jung,” you spoke as you two sat in his office. “Just do what you do best and your building will stay safe and funded.” A smile tugged at your lips, sadness gripping your gaze but you knew well to hide it from the likes of his kind.

Yoongi secluded himself in one of the courtesan rooms. He sat on the velvet couch, shirt sleeves rolled up and a cigarette between his fingers, burning eyes fixated on the cameras set up inside Nectar Oak. Particularly targeting you and Jungkook.

The man-child arrived in a half hour. Exactly on time. Black dress shirt and his cheeks sucking in an almost burnt out cigarette, dark hair messy and damp with the look of someone who was given everything he wanted. He blew the plume of smoke as he eyed the courtesans dressed in coloured silk.

Jung, the plump owner of the courtesan house pranced over to Jungkook with a jovial smile. “Welcome, sir!”

“Jung.” Jungkook grinned, leaning against the emerald marble counter. “What’ve you got for me?”

“Only the finest, Master Jeon.” Jung chortled, grabbing the hardcover book designed in teal and gold vectors. Inside were different pictures and descriptions of all the patrons that lived in the current courtesan house. “We have your favourite selections of curvy and petite as you well know. There’s also the special treatments if you require a little more spice.”

Jungkook scanned the book with an air of a teenager seeing a picture of a naked woman for the first time. Hungry eyes finally stopped and stared at one picture. “Who is she?”

“Uh—oh, she’s not quite available yet, sir.”

Hunger turned to determination. “Why not?”

“Well—see her prices—she’s one of our most risky patrons.”

“You’re saying I can’t afford her?”

“No, no no no!” Jung chuckled nervously without hitch of losing his act. “It’s just—only a select amount of customers have actually been able to have a session with her. She has her own ground rules, you see and some extremely challenging—eh—punishments if those rules are abided by. Experienced employee benefits.”

Yoongi had to hand it to him for his marketing skills. Anyone like Jungkook would love a challenge if someone thought they couldn’t do it.

“I’ll take her,” Jungkook said. “Whatever the price.”

“Oh, sir—”

“I don’t like waiting, Jung. Let’s not taint this friendship we have, hm?” Jungkook narrowed his gaze.

Jung let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course, sir. I will call her down.” He pressed on one of the buttons at his desk.

Yoongi heard the buzz from the vanity table where you sat.

You stood up from the chair, walking out of the room without sharing a glance at Yoongi so you could steel yourself. The time for softness wasn’t now.

Walking down the wooden stairs, even the echoes of your shoes were too familiar. Time rewound, bringing you right back where you started. No. You mentally shook your head and raised your chin. Your presence lit up the room, silencing the younger members and alerting the other customers. The silk train left behind exuded an air of magic, like wildflowers growing at your every step.

All the illusion of a trained courtesan in this country.

Jungkook stared at you, hunger burning in his eyes as he stamped the cigarette on the silver ashtray lain on the counter.

“Master Jeon,” you said, bowing in front of him. “Pleasure to be of your service.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” Jungkook spoke with the delicacy of a lover but the fire of a conqueror. “Jung here holds you to high regard in this establishment.” He walked close to your form until he towered over you, feeling the filmsy satisfaction for seeing your gaze lift for him. “I’m excited to see what the mystery is all about.”

You side-eyed Jung with a calculated smug smile, reddened lips and eyes moist. “He’s an enthusiastic man but not a liar, I assure you. One doesn’t make a room stand still like this without having a few skills under her skirt.” Your cheeks glowed like polished jewels.

Jungkook chuckled under his breath. “That’ll be all, Jung.”

Jung bowed with a wide grin and walked away.

You held onto Jungkooks’ hand. “This way, sir.” Nervousness faded completely as the mission at hand became your first priority. The scent of opium was thick around Jungkooks’ form as he shifted closer, nudging his nose in your hair slightly. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Master Jeon.”

“Oh? Nice things I hope.”

“Tales of conquering the higher ups and standing up for the street dwellers.” You looked over your shoulder. “You’re a hero amongst the whispers of the alley.”

If confidence had a physical form, it’d be like gold oozing down Jungkooks’ ears and mouth like tears and slobber after sex. He was young. His nerves were easy to tug and manipulate to your whim. “Do you think I’m a hero?”

You hummed with a cheeky shrug. “I like physical proof of things rather hearsay. Lingers more on the mind.”

“I can fix that soon.” Jungkook moved his hand over to your waist, squeezing and digging into the skin. You tried not to wince. “And when I’m done with you, you can watch the chaos I created soon.”

“Chaos?”

“I’ve achieved a magnificent feat of having the Queen of Gae Pa herself…” He pressed his lips against your ears. “…giving herself over to me.”

A tiniest twinge of anxiety tugged at the back of your mind but you stayed steady. “Was I really that obvious?”

“If I could steal all of the most powerful gangs’ precious items, I think I could recognize your face.” Jungkook traced a finger down your cheek. “Must say you’re a thousand times more beautiful than your pictures.” He moved his fingers down to the curve of your breasts. “Your daughter looks just like you.”

The anxiety that tugged now flooded your entire body, hot rushing in then freezing. All in confusing pattern until your head started spinning. Glossed eyes blinked slowly and your chin raised, staying strong.

“I have my own spies too,” Jungkook whispered. “There’s alleys and streets everywhere. Enough sorry souls to do anything for a new life. You understand that, don’t you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Do you have her with you?”

“Oh no…I’m not that evil.” Jungkook jutted his lips out. “She can stay happily in that cute safehouse. Except there’s eyes always on her.”

You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. A neutral expression on your face. “What’s your negotiation?”

“Nothing special. Just for all the Dons to pledge themselves to me.” Jungkook shrugged. “Especially Don Kim and your husband.” He tilted his head. “You also know just as much as I do that I have every measure possible to ensure they won’t say no.” Palm traced up her back to her neck. “And I also require your mind. Despite my little street friends running around, you have the most connections known to the underworld. Your body could be a wild bonus.” He smirked.

You raised your chin, breath sucked in and stuck in your throat. “I don’t want to talk in the hallway. Everything is being recorded.” You spoke under your breath.

Jungkook hummed as you brought him towards the bedroom.

Yoongi refrained from trying to break another mug of coffee. Instead he listened carefully. Anxiety shook through his body hearing a stranger—no, their fucking rival—speak of their daughter. But he knew what had to be done. Eyes sharp, he flickered his gaze over to the corner of the courtesan room. The bed adorned in red and gold silk sheets held a figure, both arms tied to the bedposts and his mouth gagged with cloth, stained with the blood from his fresh glistening wounds.

He stood up from his chair, hands dug in his pockets as he examined the heaving body. “You’re up, Kim.” A sinister smile flashed to Taehyung. Silent reminder on who held one of the underworlds’ pillars. The lead alpha of this country. That same terrifying individual now stood here, heated with anger and the urge to protect his family sent sizzles throughout the room.

Taehyung blinked slowly as the realization hit him.

Jungkook wasn’t coming out of here unscathed.

***

It was the best news you received in a while. They found him. Kim Taehyung.

Your notes at the auction managed to help the spies track down the buyer. Apparently they wanted to be rid of it after hearing of the murders in the other gangs. They kept it hidden in their backyard instead of displaying it. You took it off their hands and sent it to Jwi Pa.

Despite their current clean slate, the gang still had the best trackers. You needed them to find the elusive auctioneer. The moment they saw the ledger in your gloved hand, they were putty. Any request and they would abide.

Kim Taehyung lived in a private estate personally gifted by Jeon Jungkook once he rebuilt Mal Pa to its former glory. As soon as his location was exposed, it took only a couple of minutes of breaking through security and having the man in their grasp. Jungkooks’ weak spot.

Nor Yoongi or Namjoon were happy to see him. Both of them failed to push back their punches but they knew enough to keep him alive.

“There’s a high chance Jungkook will know my face,” you said.

“So send someone else,” Namjoon suggested.

Yoongi tightened his jaw, not wanting to admit the truth that was right in front of him. “She’ll know what to do better than anyone.”

“You have so many talented spies!” Namjoon gestured wildly. “Fucking hell, I hate that I’m the one who has to admit it.”

“A scenario, Namjoon.” You intertwined your fingers together. “If Jungkook sees through the operation, what do you think they’ll do to a faceless spy?”

“If it’s her then Jungkook will be distracted.” Yoongi curled his fingers into tight fists.

“Well enough for me to actually bring him to the room whether he finds out or not.”

Namjoon let out a frustrated sigh. “Why is it so annoying that it’s a good idea?”

“For the first time, Kim, I agree.”

You gave them both sharp looks. “We end this now. No hitches.”

***

Opening the door, Yoongi noticed your glossed eyes. He wanted to hold you right there and then but there was still work to be done. Yoongi knew partly you were maintaining an act. It wouldn’t finish until the curtains were closed.

“Don Min!” Jungkooks’ lips stretched ear to ear. Expression bright and confident of the achievement right in his grasp. In a split second, his gaze flickered over to the tied figure. The golden tones of his skin lost its vibrancy, grin disappeared and his eyebrows in the realization of the bleeding man. “Tae—”

Taehyungs’ groans and screams muffled by the soaked cloth. Eyes flooded with tears as Namjoon closed the door behind Jungkook. There was no way to escape.

Jungkook looked over his shoulder. Both the leaders of Gae and Sutal Pa together in the same room. Caging him in. Namjoon had a satisfied smirk, dragging the stone mallet towards him.

Out of instinct, Jungkook pulled the gun out of his holster and pointed it to your chest. A sense of accomplishment rushed through him when he saw Yoongi raise his gun frantically. He could do this. All that progress to come this far from a street rat to a gang leader. It couldn’t all end here in a second. It was too quick. He needed to breathe. "Want to see which bullet reaches first?”

Taehyung protested through his cloth, struggling out of the rope.

You pushed Jungkooks’ hand to the side with your left hand, causing a stress shot to speed past your shoulder. Right ear ringing, you used your other hand to reach for the grip. Gun now in clasped in your hand, end of the barrel pointed at Jungkooks’ heart.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate taking a shot at Jungkooks’ leg, causing him to drop on his knees with a pained grunt.

Namjoon chuckled with a raspy tone, raising his stone mallet. “What a good day.” He slammed the mallet on Jungkooks’ calf. The crack and scream that came afterwards was one that could haunt you at night. But it was nothing new in the underworld. You try to break the underworld pillars, they’ll break you back ten times worse. It was the law in this hell.

You watched Jungkook thrash on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor. Mixed with Taehyungs’ loud sobbing. It was a nursery rhyme of nightmares. Melodies of suffering that will melt into the walls of the courtesan house. No one will speak of it but they’ll know. They’ll never forget.

***

The new dawn arrived golden and the birds sung the continuous reign of Gae and Sutal Pa. Mal Pa was once again broken down into chaos as their usurper leader stepped away from his position and hid away after the two gangs made their example clear. Taehyung, still healing from his own wounds, opted to stick by Jungkooks’ side. The new looming darkness over their faces were hard to miss.

“If it’s worth anything, Jeon, you did good.” Yoongi stood over him on the stretcher. “Just not good enough.”

Jungkook stayed silent, gaze averted to focus on Taehyungs’ shirt. “Might not be me but someone else’ll come back to do the same thing. You can’t reign forever.”

The diamond ending of every underworld devil. Every gang had it. That one day when everything falls apart before their eyes and there was nothing to do about it. A fate worse than assassination.

Sun peaked through the buildings, framing Yoongis’ silhouette and casting warmth on his cool cheek. “It’s true. But when it does, it’s gonna be by my hand.”

Jungkook blinked over at him in confusion.

Yoongi smirked, gently tapping his shoulder. “Get well.” That day for Yoongi wasn’t to be shut down by another gang or a new leader. But to throw the match in himself and see it all burn. The beautiful end to his diamond trail.

Jungkook and Taehyung were moved to secluded area, away from any kind communication with the underworld.

Street dwellers will be loyal to anyone that could promise them something good. Now that Jungkook couldn’t provide it anymore, they scurried like rats under Yoongi or Namjoons’ wing. The underworld, even in the top ranks was cruel and brutal, leaving no mercy for even the good-hearted.

When you arrived back to the manor, the first thing was to remove the god awful dressing from the courtesan house. You draped back into your work dress, letting out a sigh of relief that it was all a play.

Namjoon paid a small visit to cast a farewell. Shaded eyes scanned across the mansion, admiring the architecture and paintings. Or just staring at them to avoid eye contact with Yoongi. “So European.”

“My mother grew up travelling between France and Italy,” Yoongi said. He dug his hands into his trousers. “She really liked all the architecture of the old buildings.” His heart swelled remembering the years after their father passed away. They found a new venue and spent over a year just working on the house. It was the most time they had ever spent alone without any kind of distractions from their father.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking—what happened to your mother?” Namjoon asked. “She was quite young when she married.”

Yoongi hummed, a sad smile tugged on his face. “She wasn’t well for a long time. Since she gave birth at a young age, the stress of it had lot of side effects in the long term. She held out long enough to ensure that I wouldn’t have to live with my father alone.”

Namjoons’ expression softened. “I’m sorry. Having a good family member in the household is already a rarity in itself. I can’t imagine losing them.”

In the small silence, you stepped down the stairs. You met the two men with a kind smile, fingers intertwined together. “Nice to see you two playing nicely.”

Yoongi smiled. “Of course.”

You, Namjoon and Yoongi padded outside of the manor into the afternoon light. The black SUV glinted and the guards looked like insects scurrying to their positions so that Namjoon was protected.

Pausing at the end of the entrance stairs, Namjoon turned to face the two of you. “It was fun working with you—just lighten up a little more.”

“Not a chance,” Yoongi stated plainly. “But—it was good not being at war for once.”

Namjoon smirked, eyes flickered to you with a softened expression. “Good day, my lady.”

You nodded in acknowledgement as the male turned on his heel and climbed into his SUV. A sense of relief washed over your form. Yoongi took your hand and escorted you back into the comforts of the manor.

“The diamond gun is back in its original place.” Yoongi let out a long exhale, emptying his chest of the anxiety. “I can take a fucking nap now.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. A silent reminder that nothing was lost in this fight. You were safe and your childs’ location was still unknown to everyone else. “I know what you were doing.”

“You did?” A smile stretched across your lips.

“Taehyung was just a final tick.” Yoongi led you over to the couch, settling down with a deep sigh. “Jungkook was more terrified at the fact that Namjoon and I actually worked together.”

“If you two fought then both the pillars would’ve been crumbling. Easy for Jungkook to break.” You traced your fingers across his raven fringes. “Maybe you two should stop bickering so much. Just in case another street dweller comes in to hurt you.”

“One step at a time, my love.” Yoongi smiled, throwing his head back against the couch. “How’s Jewel?”

Jewel was her nickname. Her eyes shone even when there was no light reflecting off them. Maybe it was just their rosy lenses but you didn’t care. “She’s been moved to another safehouse. She says she’s happy.”

“Good.” Yoongi nodded. “That’s good.” He held onto your hand and kissed it. “We’ll all be together soon for the holiday. I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” You raised a brow.

Yoongi loved his new family.

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#yoongi #thebtswritersclub #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfiction #yoongi mafia au #bts mafia au

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader- Oneshot

“No way you’re lying!”

“No uh! We got it yesterday. April said it was a gift from NYPD since it’s our birthday and all. I’m telling you it’s awesome. I’ve been trying to get my hands on it forever. Donnie says it’s too expensive. Can’t believe we finally got it. “

Mikey talked non stop about getting the just dance system. The both of you were suckers for the game. So hearing that he finally managed to score the machine, it was music to your ears.

If you’re day wasn’t already going well, it was nothing short of awesome now.

“What are we waiting for, let's go!”

You were already in the tunnels of the sewers, you picked up your pace, racing to get there first. Mikey was laughing behind you following. As you ran in through the entrance, you almost tumbled into Leo. He held you by the shoulders, laughing softly at the excitement on your face. “Woah there, is it Christmas?” you shook your head, trying to peep over his shoulder. When he saw the direction of your gaze he smiled.

“So that’s what you’re here for. And I thought for a second you wanted to wish us a happy birthday.” you grinned, reaching over and giving him a hug. “Happy Birthday Leo!” Of course you would never forget their birthday. You’d been waiting all month just to stop by. But when Mikey told you about his birthday present your excitement got the better of you. Leo returned the hug, and when you pulled away, you dug into your bag, taking out a small gift wrapped box, along with a few books. Leo’s eyes lit up like a child, and he hesitated for a second. “Is this..for me?”

“Of course silly, who else is standing here.” He took it slowing, a bit in awe. They weren’t used to getting gifts from others. It had always been just his brothers and Splinter. He appreciated the gadgets and gizmos his brothers managed to get their hands on from above, but actually getting a gift from someone other than family, it was foreign. He opened the small box, and stared at the chain with a silver sterling dragon.

“My dad says dragons are fierce leaders that protect their own. It kind of reminded me of you, so I thought I’d get it. Do you like it?”

“I love it (Y/N), thank you.” he placed the books down on the table, putting on the necklace with a smile. “How does it look?”

You gave him a thumbs up. “Awesome my guy.” you responded in a deep voice, trying to imitate a man’s voice.

“Hey where’s our gift!” Mikey called.

“You really think I’d forget my favourite boys, never.” you placed the bag down, folding your legs. Donnie seemed to catch unto the commotion from his spot. “What’s going on?” he called, eyes still distracted by his screens.

“(Y/N) brought us presents!” Mikey said excitedly. Splinter who was at the back making some tea, walked out from behind the small shed where he usually brewed his drinks.

“That’s very nice of you. I’m sure they are very grateful.” you just brushed it off.

“Yeah it’s no sweat. You guys absolutely deserve it trust me. If I was a millionaire I would have bought a mansion. Sadly I’m still saving for college so you’ll have to settle for these.” One by one you took out their presents. Each gift was wrapped in their signature color. Mikey took his running on the spot in anticipation. When he opened the rectangular box, his eyes grew wide.

“No way..” It was a pair of metal tonfas. Mikey was glued to his original weapon, but you remembered the way his eyes lit up when he saw the advertisement a few months ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he wanted. He picked them up slowly, testing it out.

“THESE ARE FREAKING COOL!” well, it seemed that he approved.

“(Y/N).” from Leo’s tone you could already tell what he was going to say. “Leo come one, it’s really no big deal. You only celebrate once a year, you have to make every one memorable. Plus he loves them.” you grin. Mikey was making action noises as he struck the air. “Thanks (Y/N)!!”

“You’re welcome.”

You turned to Donnie, who was staring nervously at you. “Y-You really didn’t have to get me anything.” He assured. You rolled your eyes. “Like hell, of course I did.” None of his brothers probably knew, but Donnie, despite his very logical nature, was pretty sentimental. With all the little knick knacks he’d already obtained, you were stumped for a while on what to get him. Then it hit you. Donnie always loved the pictures you showed him of your family and friends.

You lifted the square package that was tied with a violet ribbon. He took it with a small thanks, pulling the string loose. As it fell open, the paper slipped off the side, and Donnie stared at the indigo patterned photo album. When he flipped it open, Leo leaned over, watching the pictures stuck in the small clear page. They were placed in sections. Each picture displayed a different story. One when you were wrestling with Mikey, another with Leo and Raph arguing. There was even an image on when they were awarded the keys to the city.

“This is incredible…” He was speechless. The images captured so much, Donnie thought for a second he would get teary. He pushed up his glasses, shuffling over to give you a hug. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” You replied. You patted his shoulder lightly as he pulled away. He was already rushing over to set it up. You giggled. Your eyes lifted to give out your last present, but the turtle you were looking for was nowhere in sight. “Raph is in his room. He’s never been the celebrating type.” you nod. “Well I’ll change that. “ you zipped up the bag, about to head over to his room.

“When I’m done we’re definitely having a dance battle Mikey!”

“You’re on!”

Leo and Splinter watched as you jogged to the older turtle’s location.

“She is a very special girl.”

“She really is.” Leo was thankful, not just for himself, but also his brothers. The care that you showed them, it was as if it came effortless to you. It never stopped surprising him. And he was more than grateful. He just hoped his numskull brother didn’t blow his chance with you. Leo knew full well how you felt about Raph.

Raph was probably the only one who didn’t see it.

“Maybe today will be his lucky day.” With that, Leo walked away, taking the books with him.

You knocked twice. Raph always yelled at Mikey for constantly barging in. Even though you strutted there all confident, you were nervous as hell. Raph was the only one who ever made you anxious, mainly because of your gigantic crush on him. You couldn’t remember exactly when you fell for him. For as long as you knew them, they’d always been just really good friends, almost family. But somehow, you’d fallen for the hot tempered turtle. And today, you decided you’d finally own up to it.

“What do you want Mikey,I told you I don’t want to celebrate.”

“It’s me.” you twisted the knob, walking in slowly. When you entered Raph was standing with his back to you. His fists were clenched, and you realized it must have been because he was punching the bag hanging from the pole above. “What do you want?” his rough tone didn’t help much with your nerves.

“I-I just, I got you a present.” you had no idea why you were speaking so softly. Your hands gripped the backpack tightly, not sure if it was such a good idea to approach him when he was already in a bad mood. To your surprise he turned, and he didn’t look as agitated as you thought he would be.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you. Mikey and everyone else is out there having fun, maybe you should join them. I’m sure you'll have fun. Why don’t you like celebrating your birthday anyway?” The moment you asked you wanted to take it back. Because it was obviously a personal issue that he maybe didn’t want to talk about.

“Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!”

“I’m an idiot.” you scolded yourself.

Raph looked to the side, moving to his bed. He took a seat, bracing his elbows on his knees and joining his hands. There was a flash of hurt in his usually sure emerald eyes.

“Every year in this place, it was a reminder that we’d never be accepted up there. It’s different now, we’re a part of the NYPD helping people. But what about the rest of the world. No matter what we do, they’ll never see us the same. “

So that was it. Who would have thought. Of course he was sad. They had feelings just like everyone else.

You placed the bag down, walking over to take a seat right next to him on the bed. His head turned to you, and you smiled.

“I’m so sorry you went through so much Raph. You deserved so much more. You guys are easily the coolest people I’ve ever met. U-Uh I mean turtles.” you corrected. A small smile inched its way on his face.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” You couldn’t believe it, you actually got him to smile. And it was the purest thing you’d ever seen. You could physically feel the way your heart pick up. You just hoped it wasn’t loud enough for Raph to hear. He was still looking at you, and you him. Maybe your body stopped functioning, because you couldn’t pull your gaze away.

Raph was having a similar problem. You swallowed, hand raising slowly. Your palm rested on his cheek lightly, and you could only pray that your next move didn’t completely ruin your friendship. Raph didn’t utter a word when you started to lean forward. Your hand slid from his cheek to his shoulder. He should have done something to stop you.

He told himself that maybe you just felt sorry for him, or got caught up in the moment. But with the fluttering of your eyelashes, and your plumpness or your deliciously rosey lips, how could he stop it. When he felt your soft breath brush his lips he came to his senses, placing his hands on your shoulders to halt you. It felt like a dagger to his chest, the hurt that was now reflected in your eyes. His head lowered, unable to speak with you watching him so sadly.

“You don’t have to do this just for me…” He fully expected you to pull back and storm off. Maybe even smack him across the face.

“Good thing I’m not doing it for you then.” His head shot up, eyes opening in confusion.

“What-” you darted forward, claiming his lips. Raph stiffened, hands hovering in the air.

He wasn’t sure what to do now. Were you really kissing him because you were...

“Shit..” he groaned. At some point you managed to slip into his lap. His hands found your waist. You were so small compared to him. Yet, the way you were kissing him, it wasn’t hard to tell who was in control. When he felt your fingers trailing down his chest he almost lost it. His hands tightened on your waist and you moaned, rocking your hips into him. Raph parted from the abrupt action, gasping softly. When he pulled away he could see the need in your eyes. This entire time he wanted to convince himself that this was a pity kiss. Nothing more. He poured a bit of his heart and you were just trying to offer comfort.

The need glowing in your usually innocent gaze, it certainly had nothing to do with pity. You were panting, but your eyes were still marking his slightly moist lips.

“Raph..”

Why did you have to say his name like that. His will power went right out the window.

“Is this my present?” he smirked at you, and you grinned.

“It’s one of them.” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his neck and going in for another long awaited kiss. “I don’t care how other people see you Raph, because to me you’re just...you.”

He didn’t feel like he needed much validation from the world right then. Because if you would continue to stare at him with such unfiltered want, then he could do anything.

This was the first birthday he really didn’t mind celebrating. Now he had many more to look forward to with you.

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heliosthegriffin · 3 years

Text

Sacred Rites

“Do you swear to honor The Heavenly Champion in all your works, Jaune Arc?”

To be a Paladin, to be servant to the divine and defender of the innocent. That was his dream.

“Yes, I swear, from the day I entered the Victarion to now, I have been the Goddess’s to command and lead.”

“Do you answer to our Goddess, and only our Goddess?”

“To no other, now and forever, never shall I let man, law, or force of nature, interrupt me in my quests and duties, I answer to the Goddess and only the Goddess, or those that she speaks through.”

“Will you uphold the oaths of our order?”

“I will feed the starving,

I will chastise the foolish,

I will forgive the repentant,

I will be generous to the poor,

I will help the needy,

I will act when needed, never just when called upon,

I will protect the young, the weak, the weary, and the innocent, I will fight for the common man!

I will be honorable in all pursuits,

strong in body, faith, and mind,

Never shall greed or callousness, guide my path!

For I make my own!

I will guide the weary, tired, and directionless to the warmth of our hearths, and give them guidance, and I will let them go if they desire to be alone, but never close the door.

I will live with freedom in my servitude, now and forever.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that tears crested the eyes of Champion Maria, with a crack in her normally stern voice she continued.

“Then as Champion of the Victarion, Maria Calavera, I name you Jaune Arc first Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos, Heavenly Champion, Savior of the Commons, First Apotheosis, she who cast down the Old Tyrants! Hold your head up,”

Jaune did, looking into the silver eyes of the surprisingly youthful looking Champion.

“you will carry your head high, as you are the first and only true Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos! Take pride in position, but never let humility leave you, you will carry the weight of the faith on your shoulders, but with the strength of all those with the faith! Now go forth child, and meet those you would cherish and protect!”

With a tear going down his cheek, he turned and looked out at the full temple. He had finally realized his dream, one that he would live forever more.

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Entering his chambers Jaune collapsed on the humble bed of his.

It had been a heavenly experience after the ceremony, full of friendship, feasting, games, dancing, along with promises and new memories being made. It beginning and ending on a high note, with friends from across the city and continent showing up, and them promising to meet once again as soon as he has leave to go questing. He couldn’t have had a better day if he tried!

It really made the last eight years seem like nothing in comparison. He let out a happy sigh, truly his hardships and sacrifices had paid off. What would the boy that he was at ten years old think of himself now?

Probably that he should have left home sooner.

Hmm-pf, the thought making him crack up a little.

Laying on his bed looking around his normally bare chamber were full to bursting with the gifts, more than he knew what to do with, but it mattered not, he’d cherish them all.

The masterwork sword that Ruby made him.

The gambeson Coco had made for him.

The tabard Velvet made for him.

The bottle of fine whiskey that Yang made him promise not open till they did quest together.

Emerald had even gotten him back the coin purse that he lost! He enjoyed the embroidery on it that she had gotten done on it.

Brother Ren had come by with Sister Arslan to set up the party, nothing less than what he’d expect from Tenders of Sun Wukong, Second Apotheosis.

Ren had even given him a pair of fine gloves, some potions, and even an alchemy set and basic instructions!

Arslan just promised not to beat him too badly at the next inter temple championship. Also gave him a nice embroidered belt with gold inlays.

Old Port had come by with enough food to feed an army, and left him a nice antler handled skinning knife.

Tukson had brought him some books to read, ranging from philosophy to legend to stories from other continents.

So many gifts.

A sharp knock on the door took him out of his thoughts.

Jaune quickly moved to answer the door.

On the other side, Champion Maria Calavera. A woman many years his senior looking no older than a decade his senior.

Jaune dropped to his knee, and paid respects. “I’m honored by your presence, my champion.”

“Lift your head and stand boy, we are both equals in Her eyes.”

Jaune rose to his feet, the tall young man towering above the champion, and he beckoned Maria in.

Maria entered and sat at his desk, and Jaune took a seat on his bed.

“Pardon, my rudeness, My Champion,-”

“As I said we are both equal in Her eyes, so you may address me as Maria, or not at all. There will be no deferential treatment between the two of us, are we clear?” Maria asked sternly.

Jaune’s face blushed, and he scratched the side of his face. “But, My-” Maria raised an eyebrow sharply. “I mean Maria, how can I compare to a legendary figure of the faith such as yourself, when I just became a Paladin today?” Jaune argued weakly.

“Tut-tut, my boy, you sell yourself short, you are the first Paladin of this faith, a faith over a thousand years old and you are the first paladin, the first to actually channel Her power!” Maria jabbed a slender finger into Jaune’s chest. “The first to not be granted her power, but to be a conduit to her greatest, and the first man to join her side!” Maria sly smirked at him. “What makes you think that the Goddess’s chosen is not worthy to refer to her Champion by name?”

A blood-red color over took the poor young man’s face, and he weakly mumbled. “When you put it that way, I suppose I can’t really refute you, can I?”

“Hmm, nope!” Maria answered cheerfully.

“Hah, so onward we move forward, what brings you here at such a late hour, Ma-Maria,” Jaune asked with effort. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s getting late, and it has been quite the day.”

Maria smiled at him. “Well, that’s because it has passed Midnight and it is officially time for you to perform your first duties as Paladin, as I have been asked by the Goddess to come gather you to bring you to the sanctum.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed with confusion. “She has? Why has she not called me herself?”

Maria let out a laugh. “Oh, she’s just a bit excited, and didn’t think you could handle her voice right now.”

“Oh!” Jaune said understanding, as the power of Gods control directly related to their emotions. If too excited she might blast him with too much power by speaking to his mind. Conduit of her power he might be, but Maria had decades of time to acclimate herself to the presence of the divinity.

Maria nodded and got up, “Now come along, we shall not keep Her waiting, hmm?

Quickly he jumped to his feet ready to go. “Of course not, that would be folly.”

“Indeed.”

In truth Jaune knew his way to the sanctum, but he did doubt his ability to get in without Maria.

“So, do you know my first duty, Maria.” Jaune asked with any trouble this time.

Maria lightly smiled. “Oh, that between you and Her, Jaune. Hehehe.”

Cocking his head in confusion, Jaune could only wonder what she meant, perhaps it was a test of devotion or strength of character, or possibly his first quest!

Yang would be so proud if he got a quest!

They arrived at the sanctum fairly quick, as said before they both knew the way.

The doors that hid the sanctum were taller than two of Jaunes, and big enough for a dozen men to wall shoulder to shoulder to pass through. Made of a beautiful bronze inlaid with artwork of previous champions.

Maria opened the doors with one hand. “Go on now, try not to have too much fun.”

Jaune looked confused, but went inside anyway.

The door closed behind him leaving him facing a pool of steaming water and the idol of Pyrrha Nikos.

The idol stared at Jaune down to his soul seeming to strip him down to his most primal components.

Jaune then fell to his knees. “I have come to you, my Goddess.”

A please hum seemed to come from the statue and the entire room.

“Raise my Paladin, it is time to attend to your duties.” The warm voice of his Goddess seemed to echo from behind his ear.

Jaune did as he was told and rose. “What would you have me do, my Goddess.”

Another pleased hum came forth.

A light whisper seemed to dance in his ear. “Oh yes, I like the way you call me that.”

Jaune looked confused. “Why would I call you anything but that?”

“Oh, you little charmer.”

Jaune’s confusion remained. “Ok, but what is my first duty?”

“STRIP!” His Goddess boomed around him, nearly knocking Jaune onto his butt.

Jaune staggered around drunkenly for a second, a thin stream of blood falling from his ears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my little Paladin! I got a little excited for this!” His Goddess echoed again, as a holy glow healed Jaune.

“It’s fine, my Goddess, but, um, may I ask why I must remove my clothing?” Jaune innocently asked, finding his clothing rather comfy despite the humidity of the room.

The idol and the room went silent as though his Goddess was in thought, ha, surely not, she must merely be pondering me a fool. Jaune thought to himself.

The Idol’s cut emerald eyes glowed. “My Paladin, my dear sweet Paladin, how am I to embrace you and acclimate you to my power if there is a boundary between us?” The idol's clothes disappeared leaving only a naked metal idol.

Jaune’s face went blush. “Oh, I guess that makes sense...”

The idol seemed to smile at him, a little scary if he might add. “Now once again, STRIP!” The words seemed to drip out of the idols mouth like honey.

Jaune shivered under the Idols words, but did as he was told pulling up his shirt. “WAIT,” The idol cried out as he did. Jaune looked at the Idol again in confusion. “DO IT SLOWLY~”

Shrugging Jaune pulled his shirt down, only to grab it by the hem and then slowly rolled the fabric up, revealing inch by inch the naked, supple and muscular body of Jaune Arc.

The shirt rising like a curtain to show the sharp, deep cut v of his Adonis belt that led into his pants, hiding a treasure Pyrrha would see soon enough. The shirt continued it’s slow trip up, showing one at a time his flat, smooth, uncontainably powerful abs, and smoothly contoured sides of his waist, showing off his powerful core.

The next destination to be revealed was his broad chest that barely contained his two muscular pecs, each looking like they could crush a steel ingot between them! His arms looking like masterfully crafted pieces of art rather than flesh and muscle. Above them was his wide shoulders corded with powerful muscles under his skin, that held up a veiny neck coiled with even more muscles!

Then he folded the shirt and put it on the floor, turning around showing off a wonderfully sculpted back, one so well made she was going to give Maria even more regards. The idol's eyes trailing down his back to see two cute dimples on his back!

Then he pulled down the pants showing off a well rounded ass! They had dimples too! And-

The Idol’s emerald eyes cracked at the sight between his legs, and then instantly reformed.

“Now what would you ask of me, my Goddess?” Jaune said, feeling a little lost about what was going on.

His Goddess said nothing for a while just staring at him.

After a couple minutes passed, Jaune coughed awkwardly into his hand and pronounced. “If you do not speak, my Goddess, I will assume I have displeased you and leave.”

“What, sorry?” His Goddess asked him, must have spoken too quietly.

“I asked if I offended you, my Goddess.”

“Oh, noooo~, I am most pleased, most pleased indeed.” Jaune smiled. If she’s happy, I’m happy, he thought to himself.

“So what would you have me do now?”

“Clean thyself my Paladin, buttttt~, slowly~!” His Goddess asked of him.

Jaune nodded determinedly, as she asked, so it shall it be done!

Jaune slowly walked his way into the languidly steaming water, hissing a little bit at the bite of warmth it shot through his flesh, but endured for his Goddess! Also the hot water started to feel quite nice. Reaching the center of the pool, he was waist deep. He looked around for any soap or oils, a small wooden bowl full of various cleaning agents.

The idol of Pyrrha’s emeralds cracked once again, and then reformed in an instant watching her Paladin bathing.

Jaune eventually emerged from the pool clean as a whistle. “Uuuh, I need to do that more often, I feel brand new. You have my thanks my Goddess.” Jaune said reventently.

His Goddess’s idol did speak, for some reason it’s metal cheeks turning cherry red, why would it do that though?

Finally her voice blessed him again. “And you shall do this sacred rite before me everyday you’re here, my Paladin!”

Jaune then let out a muffled yawn. “Apologize my Goddess, I fear my fatigue has gotten the better of me.”

“It’s fine my Paladin, I have only a few more tasks for you. Anoint yourself with the holy oils, first!”

Jaune did as asked, slowly patting his body with a palm’s worth of holy oil across his body. Smearing a sheen of oil across his sculpted body, all across his body.

A loud crack caught his attention, looking up at his Goddess’s idol to see fragments of emeralds everywhere, but miraculously missing him.

“My Goddess! Are you well, is there an interloper that wishes you harm, please answer me!”

“I’m fine, I’m well! Just a little over excited is all.”

Jaune nodded and returned to finish anointing himself. Finally, his body was ready for whatever his Goddess wished of him.

“I’m finished, my Goddess, what task is next?”

A deep, smile appeared on the idols metal face.

“I require you to cover my idol with various oils to insure that it remain’s form and beauty, this my task for you!”

Jaune nodded. “I will be honored to clean you my Goddess!”

A melodic hum spread throughout the room, giving Jaune a pleasent vibration in his chest.

Jaune knelt before the statue coating his hands in the sacred oils, and put his hands on the feet of the idol, and began working his way up the statue, smearing the oil across the metal of idol, which felt oddly warm, and soft? He didn’t quite understand that, but he was sure that it made sense.

The melodic hum became louder as he worked his way up the legs of the statue making sure to get every inch of it! His duty demanded perfection, and perfection it will have. The grew even louder and louder, practically causing his hands to go numb as he worked in between the legs of the statue, getting each and every surprisingly soft and wet? Inche of the idol till the hum turned into a ringing cry, as he was blasted into the pool, blood leaking out of his eyes and ears.

Jaune would ask his Goddess what he did to offend her when he could see which way was up.

Another holy light descended upon Jaune healing him again.

“My sincerest apology, my Paladin! I merely became over stimulated.”

Jaune gave a shaky thumbs up and got back to work.

Jaune fell from what could only be described as a hole in space into his bed, clearly unconscious, blood leaking from his face before a bronze holy power covered him, cleaning and healing him.

Pyrrha noticed that the power was transfering into him slightly easier than before, her reasoning may have been bullshit, but not complete bullshit, if he was naked he would absorb her power much easier. By the end of the week he might even be able to do small miracles!

That said Pyrrha felt very content with her little Paladin, he even finished caring for her idol! Not even Maria could do that in her first year as her champion, requiring the help of several acolytes each day. Still that was no slight against her Champion, Jaune was just a rare breed that could accept divine power like a sponge absorbing water.

That said she didn’t expect him to make her climax three times, how was that even possible through a statue!

Pyrrha smirked down at her little Paladin, she was very much excited to watch him grow.

Pushing her from the heavens into the earth, Pyrrha put a pair of lips on his, and then whispered, “Oh my little Paladin, you are loved like no other. Now rest, for the world will have need of you soon. Your oaths pusted and pressure, but you’ll endure, and I will support you every step of the way. For you will be my greatest act in this world, this I swear.”

Then she receded back to the heavens. The various gifts in his room briefly shimmering before the light faded.

AN1: This idea came to me as Jaune being a Paladin and Pyrrha being his goddess sugar mama, who constantly feels him up at everychance, but Jaune doesn’t see anything sexual about it so doesn’t mind.

AN2: Unfortunately Jaune is about to learn despite his goddess being good, her mortality is definitely like the Greek gods in terms of consent and free will.

#Jaune Arc #Oblivous Jaune #Pyrrah Nikos #Goddess Pyrrha Nikos #Thristy Pyrrha #Maria Calavera #High Priestess Maria #High Fantasy RWBY AU

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infinitethree · 2 years

Note

Hello Eret Prime! I don't think alot of people ask you alot of questions, so I'll ask one! What's it like hearing about all the other Erets out in the multiverse?

The scene opens with two people seated at just outside a cafe. The signage indicates that it’s A Slice of Heaven, which is Niki Prime’s cafe/bakery. It’s run by her, Baque–the Quackity from the T3’s swapped world–and a few other versions of Niki. Various Bads also help with baking, particularly muffins.

The two that are being focused on, though, are Eret Prime and Ferre. The latter is from the same world as Baque and is the swapped version of Eret.

Eret Prime pauses mid-sip of their tea, and slowly sets their cup back down. They're aware that something--multiple somethings--have been asking questions to people. They're also aware that, technically, only the T3 have an obligation to answer those questions.

Given the relatively harmless nature of this one and how unclear a lot of things are about the askers--especially what or whoever they may be--Eret feels it far safer to answer than risk starting things off on a hostile note.

Ferre raises their eyebrows at the pause.

“A question, from our unseen…guests,” Eret tells them. Ferre makes a noise of understanding, straightening up slightly in their chair. “Do you want to pick this up later, then?”

Eret shakes their head. “No, no, it’s…probably something you could answer too, if you want. They wanted to know how I feel about hearing about other Erets.” They give a small smile, and gesture slightly at the version of themselves who swapped roles with Fundy. “Some are pleasant surprises. As unhappy as I was that for Ferre, things happened the same way, sort of…it’s been very interesting to learn what was different.”

Said person grins. Tone light and playful they say, “The Alphabet Mafia is stronger than ever. Our sinister work is never done.” “I would hardly call a queer support group-slash-club sinister, but sure,” Eret points out, his own smile growing.

Ferre waves a hand dismissively, “The sinister part is making it sound ominous to outsiders. It’s fun to see how they’re stunned by how mundane it really is.” Eret laughs, adjusting the sunglasses that they wear. Ferre shifts their own back into its proper place out of habit.

“Though, really, nothing is mundane about a group that multiple Was-Taken brothers are in. Meetings get a little…chaotic.” Eret’s polite phrasing makes Ferre laugh. “Chaotic is an understatement. I’m still amazed Theo never murdered us all, back on the SMPza. Our Niki being an active member should have, by all rights, been a death sentence. And yet…”

Eret picks up where they trailed off. “And yet, he decided to stick around despite not really getting being aromantic or asexual. Which I had to explain to him, because Day had tried numerous times and failed. He still reminds me that he owes me a life debt for getting Theo to understand it. I’m…reasonably sure it’s a joke. Probably.”

There’s a shrug from the swapped version of the monarch. “Day was and still is strange. Though he certainly…makes more sense, knowing what we all know now.” There’s regret in Ferre’s tone, and they place a hand over their necklace. It’s nothing more than a plain chain with a very simple wire-wrapped ear cuff threaded onto it. The beads are telling; amber, prismarine, and emerald, along with one in black glass and one in orange glass.

Ferre still mourns that they lost the friendships they had made with Daedalus, Orpheus, and Atlas over Fundy’s betrayal. It hadn’t mattered that Ferre themselves was in the dark; they were pulled away from all the same. Sometimes they feel angry about how unfair it was; how they hadn’t known anything but was punished for it all the same. In the past, that anger was vented by pulling away from their adoptive older brother.

Fundy is gone now, though; he was one of the many victims of the Egg. It’s still a miracle that Ferre themself wasn’t dragged into it as well. They had never imagined that it would be Theo, Day, and Vio who rescued them. Them, Baque, and Jeste–or, before they changed names, Quackity and Punz.

The only other person who had been left was Niki. And, well…Ferre wasn’t thrilled that she met a bloody, violent end. Of course they weren’t; Niki had been a friend. But…Niki would have died no matter what they did. There was no way she wouldn’t; the T3 had been very, very clear about that.

There had only been a question of if the remaining three would stay and be infected, doomed to wander the server as it decayed and fell apart around them…or go back with the three of them to a place of peace.

They had all had some pretty severe doubts about how peaceful it actually was, but there wasn’t much of a choice.

It had been an…adjustment. To put it mildly. It wasn’t even the absurd details like a god having been murdered there or the existence of two time travellers that had been the worst part. No, no; the hardest thing to adjust to was Vio. The alien was frequently teased and poked fun at in little ways that, honestly, would have gotten just about anyone killed if they had tried it on the SMPza. But here, it was just…normal. It was simply another baffling facet of Sanctuary, that it all started with Vio deciding to turn it into a decent place out of spite.

It was still hard to wrap their head around. The same was true to Baque and Jeste, though admittedly Baque’s struggle was more with learning that, apparently, Vio would frequently lament not being able to get certain baked goods from the swapped Quackity.

Eret, who had been quiet for a few moments as Ferre was lost in thought, spoke again. “I’ve heard about some…interesting worlds. There was one where everyone was an animal; the T3 took pictures of all of them. I was a ferret. That seemed like it was one of the better worlds they’ve been in.”

And that was a huge understatement; it wasn’t uncommon for the Was-Taken family to sequester themselves within their home. While none of them went into detail about the exact reasons why, it was widely known that they were almost entirely due to Day’s trauma responses to what were phrased as ‘bad worlds’.

The monarch continues, “An odder one was one in which the local Eret absorbed Herobrine’s powers and became an unstoppable god. That was…strange to hear about. On the less odd side of things, though…I believe an early one was that Tommy and I co-ruled the Greater SMP area as joint monarchs. Even when I first heard about that one, it made a strange sort of sense; Tommy is, seemingly across all iterations of himself, capable of greatness. Just look at the empire he’s created with Make It Sew, or even how he was a core member of the original Reformation Team. I’m glad he’s doing so well and relieved we’re on good terms now.“ They smile a little at the thought.

It had taken a lot of counseling for them to get to that point, but it was well worth it. There would never be the same trust that there had been in the early days of L’manburg, but that was to be expected. That Eret and Tommy could have civil conversations–or, well, mostly civil; Tommy was still Tommy–was in, and of itself, nearly a miracle.

The same could be said of all of Sanctuary. How impossible, how improbable, that a place like it could exist at all. A version of the Dream SMP where disputes were settled with pranks or talking, where wars ended in everyone covered in glitter and laughing, where Tommys and Dreams and countless others who once drew the others’ blood instead hung out or caused only minor mischief against each other.

A place without the threat of explosions or exile, one with a community that sprawled across countless chunks. No canon lives, mandatory therapy, and the end being freely open to all who wanted to go. There are games and clubs and events and countless hands extended in support. It’s a refuge, an oasis, a sanctuary.

A home.

“So…my feelings are mixed, I suppose. The same as most complex things are,” Eret finishes. Ferre nods. “I agree. It’s nice to hear about the good, and disappointing to hear about the bad. If nothing else, it’s a relief that the other versions of us are rarely a part of the reason the T3 show up. Or, if they are, it’s as part of a larger group. I prefer that to countless worlds in which we’re the…villain, for lack of a better phrase.”

#EretPrime #FairFerreFare #long post #ChronoTag #Ferre's tag isn't super significant #it's just that it popped into my head #anyway hi guess who's been fucking WRECKED by the bullshit that is the weather #I'm like .5 seconds from joining Vio on his anti-snow rants #barometric pressure changes (aka rain/snow/storms/etc and fronts) really fuck me up #so this has been sitting in my drafts forrrrrrr longer than I care to admit #because it's literally just...back to back weekends of snow #it's nonsense and I hate it #Asked&Answered

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keepmeinthedark · 3 years

Text

To The Top || A Marauders Band AU

Chapter Two: You Gotta Not

Read here on A03

So Lily Evans brought a big asset to the band?

Only if you consider Remus Lupin to be a big asset, which I do.

Did Lily introduce them?

In time.

What happened in the meantime?

Before Remus joined the band there was just James, Sirius, and Frank. They lived together in this house called Maxwells house. It belonged to these twins Fabian and Gideon and they opened it up to anyone who needed a home.

And what was Remus doing? What were you doing?

I was in Germany at the time, Remus was at university. But he had been friends with Lily since they were young and even though he was staying in a student accommodation he wasn't too far away for their friendship to change in any way.

Lily and Remus had spent New Year's Eve together. One of Remus' classmates held a party which they attended and stayed until the clock struck midnight. By the time they had made it back to his accommodation, it was three in the morning. They had both slept in Remus' bed without bothering to change their clothes or even take their make-up off, which then lead to one of the worst mornings in both of their lives.

It was eight in the morning when Remus's phone went off. He groaned when he saw his twin brother's name appear on the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Re, where are you?"

"What do you mean?" he paused. "Am I supposed to be somewhere?"

He could practically feel Rom rolling his eyes. "You and Lily both promised Mum that you'd help with the fate. Remember? The fate? The one that Mum has been stressing over for weeks?"

Shit.

"Ohhh yeah, yeah I completely remember god who do you take me for? Yeah me and Lils are on our way now, well be like five minutes tops I promise." and with that, he quickly hung up.

Shit Shit Shit Shit.

"Lily come on, we have to go," Remus said quickly as he shook his best friend awake.

Lily only groaned as she lifted her head off the pillow, she watched Remus rush around the room to grab the makeup wipes and cleaned off the smudged eyeliner he still had on.

Lily didn't wait for an explanation, she just got out of the bed and found her way towards the nearest hairbrush. It wasn't until they were waiting for the bus that Lily had asked where they were going.

"My mum's thing, remember? We said we would help."

Lily didn't look like she remembered but she nodded anyway.

"How long do you think we'll be?"

Remus shrugged, "No idea. Why? Got somewhere to be?"

Lily rolled her eyes, "Got a hangover to cure is more like it."

They had gotten to the fate twenty minutes later and immediately regretted not faking a sickness to get out of it.

Hope Lupin was a powerhouse and an amazing mum, she was loving and caring, and gentle. But she was a single mum who had raised three boys and was in the middle of raising another, which made her incredibly scary when she was stressed.

"There you two are!" she exclaimed when she saw Remus and Lily making their way down the field where the fate was being held. "I was about to send Petunia off after you guys, honestly why are you so late?"

Remus panicked, "Headache," he said.

Hope placed her hands to her hips and raised an eyebrow, "Is headache code for a hangover?"

They both nodded.

Hope sighed, "There's coke, bananas, and water in that tent over there. Go and tip half of the water out of a bottle, fill the rest with coke, drink that, and eat a banana. I don't have time for this." she told them, quickly adding, "Its a hangover remedy," after seeing their confused faces.

"Where was this remedy all the other times we've been hungover?" Lily asked, acting offended.

Hope shrugged, "You never asked."

"Still could've been useful."

"How am I supposed to know that you're hungover if you never tell me!?" Hope exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and turning her back on them in order to do other things.

"You're Mum!" Remus yelled back. "You know everything!"

"Two minutes! Get a move on!" was all that Hope yelled back.

As Hope had promised the flat coke and bananas had helped their hangovers but unfortunately didn't make them any more prepared for the long day ahead of them. Remus' parents had divorced three years ago when Lyall had admitted that he had fallen for someone else. Remus doubts that his parents have ever been in love. They had his older brother, Lycus when they were in their twenties and before they were married. They did get married not long after he was born and three years after that they had Romulus and Remus, the twins also weren't planned. Neither was Macca, Remus' younger brother who was only 2 years old at the time of the divorce.

His father's new girlfriend didn't last very long and got intimidated by the fact that he had four sons. Romulus has always said that he was certain that there was no girl, to begin with, they had never met her and their dad wasn't exactly someone who had luck when it came to romance. Romulus swears that he made her up to use as an excuse to get a divorce. Lycus believes him. Remus doesn't.

Hope and Lyall still remained close friends and the boys are allowed to stay with either one of them as much as they like, but they spend the majority of their time with Hope, or at least Lycus, Romulus, and Remus do. Macca, who is now five, spends Monday to Thursday with Hope and Friday to Sunday with Lyall in hopes that he will grow up to have a close relationship with both parents.

Remus had nothing against his father, he was a good dad and never failed to make Remus feel loved. But he wasn't yet out to his dad yet and wasn't sure if it would go well if he did come out to him. He likes to think that his dad would try to be supportive but still doesn't want anything to change between them. Not only that but he preferred his mum's cooking.

Lyall worked as a teacher for a primary school near where he lived and Hope owned her own florist in town but would always pop into the other shops there to see if they needed any help when she had the time, which is what led to her helping out with the local coffee shops fate in order to help raise money for cancer research. This wasn't the first time Hope had dragged her children out of their usual routines to stand in a field in the middle of winter and most certainly won't be the last. But they always came, Remus would never admit it but he quite enjoyed these things. Hope had always wanted to help with certain school and church events and Remus was proud to have a mum who was so loved in the community, even if she was scary when she got into her boss mode.

By the time Remus had finished their drinks and properly woke up, there was already a crowd of people going around each stall, Remus had seen Romulus surrounded by little kids. He called them over when he saw them.

"Remus! Lily! You two are captains get over here!"

"Oh bloody hell," Remus said under his breath, noticing the football that he had in his hands.

Sirius felt like his figures were going to fall off. It was January 1st, who set up an outdoor event on January 1st.

They had only just got there and he already wanted to desperately go home, he didn't dream his parents irrelevant and leave his whole family behind at the age of 22 just to play in the freezing cold, but James had insisted that this would be worth it and he seemed so excited for every gig Sirius could never say no.

It was during their first set that Sirius had seen her.

She had been all that James had talked about since their gig at the pub on Christmas eve, he could recite her description by memory.

Dark red hair that reached her chest.

Emerald green eyes.

Plus size

A smile that glows.

Exactly a head smaller than James.

Two piercings in her ear lobe and one in her cartilage.

A tattoo of a small tattoo of a wolf behind her ear.

And she was wearing white Doc Martens.

Yep, that was her. It had to be, she ticked every box (apart from the tattoo as she was too far away for Sirius to get a proper look. But she looked like a girl that would have one.)

Sirius' heart leaped. James was going to be so excited, all he could talk about throughout Christmas was how much he regretted not asking for her Instagram. He had to tell him.

He was going to tell him.

He had it all planned. He was going to give James that smile that only James got, the one that said "I know something you don't know," James always got so excited at good news.

Then he was going to ask James once more how Lily Evans looked, and James would go on a ramble, giving out as much information about this girl that he could remember. Then he would spin James around and point her out and knowing James he would probably scream. Sirius couldn't wait, he was a hopeless romantic after all.

As they went through each song he couldn't take his eyes off her, he had to make sure that he knew where she was when he told James. And he was going to tell him, he was certain of it.

That is, he was certain of it until he saw him.

Now that's a sight that he will never be able to get out of his head.

Short blond curly hair.

Tall.

Thin, yet still had a bit of muscle.

Crooked nose.

Amber eyes.

And a large scar going across his face, from his right eye down through his nose and ending just before his lips.

God his lips!

As they played on Sirius began to notice more and more about this mystery boy. He seemed to be friendly with Lily, they were playing football with a group of kids and it was obvious that he was pretending to not be good for their sake. There was another boy with them who had similar features. Must be a brother, Sirius thought.

The boy was dressed in a Queen t-shirt, a white one with a long-sleeved black shirt underneath, and his jeans were ripped. He wore eyeliner, his nails were painted black and he had multiple rings on his figures.

Sirius had never been more turned on until he saw him take a five-minute break to smoke a cigarette.

Sirius could never date a smoker. James was enough trouble, Sirius had lost count on how many times he had told him that he ought to quit but he never listens. Smoking kills everyone knows this so why did some people think that by some miracle they could be the exception.

Sirius was about to give it all up then and there, make his eyes go back to following Lily around, or maybe even have his brain focus on what he was actually supposed to be going. But once the boy had put out his cigarette and rejoined the group of kids one of them had fallen over and hurt their knee. The boy crouched down to their level and talked to the boy until he laughed while Lily got a wet paper towel and a plaster.

Damit, Sirius thought. Why do guys with kids always have to be so damn attractive?

For the rest of their set, the only thing Sirius could see was him.

He had forgotten all about Lily Evans until they had finished. When they had gotten off the stage James had been bouncing up and down. His smile was the widest he had ever seen it.

"It's her," he said quickly.

"Whos her?" Frank asked, looking at the crowd confused.

"Her, her. That girl I met a the pub last week. She's here."

"Go talk to her then." And while you're at it get me her mate's number?

James began to pale, "I can't just go up and talk to her," he told them shaking his head. "What if she hates me?"

Frank raised an eyebrow, "Why would she hate you, I thought you hit it off?"

"We did!"

"So go talk to her!"

James looked at Lily and then back at Sirius and Frank. He had now started picking at his figure nails, slowly picking one off and throwing it onto the ground.

"What do I say?" He asked, desperately.

Frank seemed very confident. "Mate, you've just played for the entire day she surly noticed that it was you at one point. She's probably begging for you to go and talk to her."

James looked confused, "Then why hasn't she come up to me?" His eyes suddenly widened. "What if she really isn't interested? I mean I know I didn't ask for her Snapchat or anything but she didn't ask for mine either!" he said in one breath. Sirius was sure he may faint if he thought anymore.

Both James and Sirius looked at Frank who rolled his eyes. "She's the girl. You're supposed to be the one to ask her out and make the first move. Most girls are scared to ask out guys cause guys suck." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Just take a deep breath, channel your confidence, and swipe her off her feet. You've got this."

James took a breath and nodded before making his way towards Lily who was having a conversation with a much taller boy. He looked a bit like Sirius' mystery boy but older, taller, and with darker hair and no scar. Maybe another brother.

Sirius and Frank both watched James approached Lily in silence. They watched him ask to talk to her, Sirius didn't miss the smile that appeared across her face. Unfortunately said smile began to slowly disappear once James began talking and before anyone could realize that this was indeed a bad idea, Lily had slapped James across the face and had begun to walk in the other direction.

James all but stomped back towards Sirius and Frank, his glasses had fallen to the tip of his nose and his face had gone nearly bright red, though Sirius couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

He mumbled a "Let's go" and grabbed all of his belongings before making his way towards the van. All Sirius and Frank could do was stare at each other in disbelief.

"This is why we don't leave him alone unsupervised," Sirius mumbled.

#the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #wolfstar #jily #dorlene #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #mary macdonald #emmeline vance

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mrreindeerface · 4 years

Text

WTNC Mini-Fics

So @galleywinter threw a challenge flag at my head to start writing again. These are dedicated to her (thank you for listening to me scream on discord for a week)

Under the cut because there’s a few of them and it got kinda long.

Butterflies in your stomach and your heart skipping beats- that can’t be safe

Alkar is pouting again.

Wren still finds it adorable, likes to watch from the warmth of Omen’s embrace (be it tail or arms) as the two of them watch their wolf stalk around their home, muttering under his breath as he rearranges things that don’t need to be moved. Sometimes they wake at night, red eyes glaring in the dark even as he burrows deeper in between the two of them.

It’s just feelings, Alkar, they’d tried to tell him, palms pressed against his cheeks. His ears had gone back and he’d scowled.

Doesn’t feel healthy, his grumble hadn’t done anything to hide the blush skating across his cheeks.

Tonight… tonight is different – tonight there’s only two of them. Laid out under the night sky, grass soft beneath them as they trace meaningless patterns between the stars. The earth is cool against their skin, but held by the living furnace that is Alkar Wren barely even notices.

It would be easier, they muse, with Omen there. But he had gone to see Elaine and Armaros, so Wren was on their own to keep Alkar from sulking into the next century.

“Hey,” they say, turning far enough to slide a hand into his hair.

“Hey yourself,” he mumbles, flicking back the ear they had been reaching for.

“You’re pouting again.”

“Am not.”

“Alkar.” Wren sighs. “You can say you miss him. It won’t kill you.”

“I do not miss people,” his voice is just a hair above a growl. Wren ignores the small thrill it sends through them.

“Oh?” Wren puts on a fake pout (they’ve gotten better since practicing their Alkar imitation.) “Not even me? I guess that means I can go away on longer assignments then?”

There’s a moment where they swear they see fear in Alkar’s eyes, and then he’s on top of them, pinning them to the ground while they try to get enough air to laugh under the weight of a six-something Lycan.

“Mean,” Alkar says, nipping at the shell of their ear. “You are mean.”

Wren buries their hands in his hair, holding him close.

“You love it.”

Praying won’t do you much good around here.

She knows there’s something wrong in Lunaris from the moment they arrive. Call it a feeling, superstition, paranoia from years of Hunter training to see threats around every corner.

Night falls in waves in this town: one calm as the sky after rain and one oppressive enough to be felt. There is a night of starry skies and a night cloaked in shadow so dark her bones ache.

The people are terrified to be outside, running for safety as the sun sinks below the horizon. They watch with shuttered, suspicious eyes as she carries out her investigation, wishing for an end to the madness and not sure if they can believe she’ll be the one to deliver it.

Hell, she isn’t even sure she can save them. Lunaris keeps many secrets, and it keeps them well protected. Even those who offer her their assistance, their friendship, look at her with apologies scrawled on their faces. They know things, they don’t tell her these things, and she runs into every problem blind.

Don’t trust anyone.

The sooner she can get this done, free this town from whatever nightmare that holds it this time, the sooner she can get away.

I'm not playing 20 questions with you

Two cards hit the table – a 3 from Omen and a 10 from Poppy.

“Favorite place to be during the day?”

“Down in the markets,” Omen replied dutifully. Poppy began scrawling his answer in their notes as he continued. “There’s a lot of activity so it’s easier to get a read on people.”

Alkar snorted into his tankard in what might have been contempt. Hard to tell with him.

Their table is surprisingly tame for its current occupants. Alkar, it seems, is contenting himself with watching their game while studiously ignoring the looks he’s getting from the other patrons. Alaric, for once, has his “let’s fuck with Alkar” gauge set to low, because he’s been nothing but well-behaved since they sat down.

They had seen Finn and Ezra only briefly, the two had kept their heads down and come and gone in record time. Ezra had looked like hell: Poppy had heard from passersby earlier that afternoon that someone in town had been badly hurt in the woods. Maybe they hadn’t made it.

They flipped another round of cards.

Omen made a small sound of delight and Poppy looked own. Omen’s King outclassed their 8 by a long shot. They raised their glass and took a drink.

Omen grinned, mindful of his tusks. “What is your favorite color?”

“Green,” Poppy replied immediately. “Emerald green, more specifically.”

“Bullshit,” Alkar smacked a hand on the table. “I’ve never seen you wear anything green!”

“You don’t have to wear something for it to be your favorite color,” Omen replied, though he added that fact to the list on his page as well.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but I do wear green. Almost every day, in fact.” Poppy looked up at him without raising their head. “Just because it’s somewhere you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.”

Alkar sputters and goes red: Alaric raises his glass in toast. Poppy tries very hard to ignore the grin on Omen’s face that had gone from curious to mischievous faster than expected.

“If you have any further questions you are welcome to join the game,” Poppy offers in lieu of addressing it. Alkar’s nose crinkles.

“I’d pay to see that,” Alaric muses. “Where do you live? Fuck off. Why don’t you wear shoes? Fuck shoes. Do you have any other clothes? Fuck clothes.”

Omen has a hand over his mouth to hide his laughter – the shaking of his shoulders would give him away were it not for the fact that Alkar had his wrath focused on the Hunter across from him.

“I know more words than fuck,” Alkar sneers. “And I do own other clothes thank you very much.” He turns his attention to Poppy and Omen. “Don’t write that down it doesn’t count.

They both write it down anyway. He tells them both to go fuck themselves.

Time you enjoyed wasting was not wasted

“Hunter,” there was a warning in August’s voice. “We’re supposed to be working.”

Alaric hummed, contemplative, even as he crowded August back against their desk. “Work will still be here in the morning, General.” Slowly, giving August the chance to back out if they wanted it, he raised his hands to their shoulders, sliding palms down their arms until he could tangle his fingers with theirs. “I seem to remember someone making me a promise to stop sleeping in their office.” August rolled their eyes, but the defensive set of their jaw had softened as soon as his hands were on them.

“It’s hardly late enough for that to be a concern.” They sighed, leaning their forehead against his and closing their eyes. “I’m not going to overdo it.”

“Uh-huh.” Alaric tugged at their joined hands, pulling August’s body forward against his. “Let me take you home, August. The reports can wait.”

“I have to get these done before the gala on Friday,” they warned, even as they let themselves be drawn across the office. “I can’t keep wasting time.”

“Resting is not wasting time.”

August arches an elegant brow at him. “I very much doubt whatever is on your mind could be considered resting, Hunter Fehler.”

Alaric didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Come now, give your husband some credit. You know I have your best interests at heart.”

“We’ll see.” August took their hands back, nodding towards the door. “Lead the way home then, husband.”

I think it's safe to say that we have a really big problem on our hands.

Piper is laughing at her.

Correction, Piper is laughing at the ground, if only because she is doubled over and cackling hard enough that she can’t stand up straight.

“You could be helping me, you know.” If her voice is sharp it’s deserved. So much for being partners, eh General?

“Right, right,” Piper makes a half-hearted attempt to get herself under control. “Sorry, Lieutenant General.”

Alkar headbutts her again. Piper starts on another round of laughter.

“I hate you both so much right now,” Greer mutters, feeling the beginnings of a blush creeping up her neck. She places her hand in the middle of Alkar’s furred forehead and braces the next time he tries to push forward. “Personal space much?”

For all her years of service, she could firmly say she’d never seen a Lycan under the full moon pout. She wishes that were still true.

“Oh gods now he’s sulky,” Piper manages between gasping breaths for air. “You hurt his feelings Hunter Taggart.”

Greer cuts a glare in her direction. “You can start being useful at any time, Merriman.”

Her attention divided, Alkar takes the opportunity to press his head against her stomach. Again.

“Fucking- Alkar!”

“All right, all right.” Greer watches as Piper bodily pulls herself together. “Let’s see if we can’t get him to Finn. Hopefully that ancient mosquito will know what to do.”

#wtnc game #writing #Galleywinter

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womansharry · 4 years

Text

SHE

Fashion blogger and New York Socialite Juliet Oliver meets rockstar Harry Styles. And what follows is a story that no one could have predicted.

Chapter 1 - Gold Dust Woman

Juliet Oliver stepped out of the black SUV. A man in a black suit approached her.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Oliver. You'll walk the carpet in just a minute. Stay here. I'll send you as soon as I can." He turned to another man, and Juliet took a second to look down at her gown. She was wearing a purple Giambattista Valli gown. The floor-length dress was made entirely of tulle. It was growing heavier by the minute. She smiled despite the discomfort, relishing in the fact that she was about to walk the carpet at the Met Gala.

Juliet had grown up obsessing over fashion. She would stay up way past her bedtime and look at the pictures in her mother's copies of Vogue and Elle. She would often sneak into her mother's closet and try on her various dresses from DVF or Dior. When she was in high school, she developed a bad habit of leaving school early to go shopping at Bloomingdale's with her best friends.

Juliet had been born into a prominent Upper West Side family. Her father, Richard Oliver was a hedgefund lawyer. Her mother, Marie Lawrence-Oliver had been a model in the late 70s and early 80s before she met Juliet's father. By the late 80s, Marie had become a mother and decided that she would stay home with her children. First came Christopher. Chris had always been interested in movies. He had gone to NYU's film school for college and moved to LA right after. Next came Caroline. Caroline followed in her father's footsteps and went to law school. She attended Brown as a legacy student and had come back to NYC for a job in the financial district. Juliet was the youngest of the three and had attended college at Columbia.

Somehow over the past few years, she had amassed 1.2 million followers on Instagram. After graduating she decided to turn those followers into an audience and she launched a website. She had been writing full time for her blog for 3 and a half years. She had been featured in Harper's Bazaar, Marie Claire, and Vogue. The latter had led to a friendship with Anna Wintour. She had also traveled to Paris and London working with brands like Stella McCartney and Saint Laurent. Juliet could hardly believe that this was her life, working in fashion and writing about the things that she truly loved.

"Alright, Ms. Oliver are you ready?" She took a deep breath and smiled at the man. She started walking and was met with a large crowd of photographers and reporters.

There was a chorus of shouts, "This way!" "Juliet, over here!" "Look here," "Smile" as she made her way across the pink carpet. She began ascending the iconic Met steps. She stopped for a couple of interviews. As she was about to head inside she heard the shrieks of the teenage girls that were lined up along 5th Avenue. Years ago, that had been her. She looked over at the front entrance and noticed that Alessandro Michele, the creative director at Gucci, had arrived and with him was Harry Styles. Harry wore a sheer black top, black heeled boots, and a single earring. She admired his outfit from afar before turning her attention back to the front doors of the MET.

"Juliet!" She turned to see Lana Condor making her way up the steps. Juliet had met Lana and a few other ladies wearing Giambattista months ago during fittings.

"Lana, it's so good to see you. You look gorgeous!" Juliet pulled her in for a hug.

"Thanks, Juliet, so do you! They knew what they were doing when they put you in purple. It's your color!"

"You're the sweetest. Next time you're in New York we should get dinner." Juliet said and she moved up to the next step.

"Yes, for sure! I'll see you inside." Lana stepped towards one of the red carpet correspondents to give an interview.

Juliet headed towards the front door nearly running into Harry Styles as she did.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly. He looked over at her with his emerald green eyes and dimpled smile.

"S'okay love. Y'look very nice, by the way." She felt warmth spread through her body and she smiled back at him.

"Thanks, so do you."

"'m Harry." He stuck his hand out towards her.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Juliet." His large hand was softer than she had expected.

"Hmm, Juliet. Quite a romantic name." He chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Juliet, s'nice to meet ya. Maybe I'll see ya inside, yeah?" He moved closer to the door.

"Yeah." She smiled and followed after him and into the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

___

Sometime later Juliet was running on champagne and adrenaline. Cher was performing a few of her greatest hits. The beginning chords of "If I Could Turn Back Time" sounded through the speakers and Juliet smiled. She was dancing around in her own little world with some of the people around her when she noticed that Harry was watching her from across the room with a smile on his face.

Once the song was over she noticed that Harry had moved. He came up beside her and leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Ya coming to the after-party? Think ya should." She nodded.

"I'll be there."

"Save a dance for me, yeah?" She felt her face turn red.

"I can do that." He gave her a longing look and made his way back over to his friends.

___

Alessandro was hosting a Met Gala after-party at Hunter College. Juliet changed into a red pantsuit. The blazer was v-neck and she decided that she wouldn't wear anything underneath. It gave her an edgier look. Once she was inside the school gymnasium it didn't take long for her to find Harry. He had a champagne glass in one hand and was using the other as he carried on about something. The speakers were blaring a song that Juliet didn't know when someone grabbed her arm.

"I didn't know that you'd be here." Juliet turned to see Mary Kate Olsen.

"Oh my god! It's so good to see you." Mary Kate smiled.

"Let's get a drink." the two girls set off in search of the bar. "Are you still writing?"

"Yeah, it's going really well. I'm meeting with a few people next week about starting my own fashion line. I know it's a lot of work, but it's something I've wanted to do forever." Juliet said as they approached the bar.

"I think that's a great idea. It might seem like it's an oversaturated market, but if you bring something to the table that's new and unique you'll do great." The girls both got Vodka Tonics and went back to an open couch.

"I'm really excited to start the process. I've got a long way to go." Juliet said sipping on her drink.

"Well, if you need help or just someone to talk to, please call me." Mary Kate gave her a smile. Despite being so private, Mary Kate Olsen had always gone out of her way to be kind to Juliet. They had met a few years ago at London Fashion Week.

"How's Ashley?"

"She's good. I feel like we're constantly running 100 miles per hour with our brands. She was at the gala earlier but she was ready to go home. Why don't you come by later this week and see us? You could even throw out some of your ideas for your line. We'd be happy to give you our opinions." Mary Kate touched Juliet's arm.

"Yes. I'll text you tomorrow after I look at my calendar. You'd think I'd have it on my phone. I'm still old fashioned that way. I like writing things down in my planner."

"Yeah, I understand. Please do that! See you soon."

Juliet stood up as well and looked out at the dance floor, so many people were scattered around dancing and talking. She told Mary Kate goodbye and made her way to the edge of the dance floor. "Sucker" by the Jonas Brothers was playing. Juliet laughed as she saw Harry singing his heart out.

The song died out and a new one began playing. She knew what it was almost immediately. It was, "Take My Breath Away" by Berlin, or as many people knew it as the love theme from Top Gun. She downed the rest of her vodka tonic and sat the empty glass on the closet table to her. She took a deep breath and approached Harry.

"How about that dance?" He gave her a devilish grin and pulled her in his arms.

"How's ya night been, Juliet?" Harry asked as they swayed back and forth to the 80s pop ballad.

"It's been great. I don't want it to end..." she wished out loud. She admired the man holding her, his features soft in the dim light of the gymnasium.

"Think I'll ever see ya again? Quiet like looking at ya." He asked. Juliet felt her cheeks heat up.

"Maybe, if you're lucky," she said teasingly. If Harry wanted to see her again, of course, she would say yes.

"Can't believe we've never met before."

"I know. I'm glad you were a co-chair this year. I like your style a lot. You dress in a way that makes you feel good, no matter what anyone says about you. I like that about you." She said. His green eyes were sparkling.

"Thank you. 'm blushing, really." They laughed together as the song died down.

"It was so nice to meet you, Harry. I'll see you around." He hesitated, almost like he didn't know how to respond. Finally, the words came out.

"Yeah, you too Jules. See ya around." He held her hand a second longer before letting go and drifting off into the crowd of people.

Juliet found the exit and called Cal, her driver. He pulled up a moment later. She got into the SUV and Cal drove off in the direction of her apartment. The entire drive home she played Harry's words over and over again in her head. "Yeah, you too Jules. See ya around." Normally, she only let her family call her Jules. But, she liked the way it sounded when Harry said it. As Cal pulled up outside her apartment, she silently prayed that tonight wasn't the last time she would see Harry.

_____

Read ch 2 here!

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #womansharry writes #one direction imagine

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e-milieeee · 4 years

Text

red is for my heart—ladrien

Summary: With his date with Ladybug set in nine hours, Adrien scrambles to prepare a gift for her.

Knitting just isn't his forté, but fortunately, Ladybug loves whatever it is he makes.

(Even if the scarf ends up as a piece of string.)

Notes: Tooth-rotting, ridiculous fluff. Based off this post. Basically, Adrien tries to make a matching scarf for LB, but... :D It’s Ladrien lovin’ hours! For @ladrienjune—post-reveal!

Kofi | AO3

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red is for my heart

Adrien’s going to knit Ladybug a scarf in return even if it kills him.

Experience tells him it’s high time to put down the needle and yarn; his bedside clock flickers from 1:23 AM to 1:24. The only thing he’s managed to accomplish is break one of the knitting needles, piss Plagg off (thus why his desktop screen is the only source of light in the room; everything else has been extinguished so his kwami can sleep in peace), and stab himself in the fingers until there are at least five pinpricks. The scarf—or what should be the scarf—still sits as a tangled ball of yarn. It’s high-quality yarn; the most expensive one in the store, a shade of bright crimson that matches the vibrancy of Ladybug’s suit. The yarn is perfect. Adrien, on the other hand, is not.

Stifling his yawn, Adrien replays the first bit of the video. The girl doing the tutorial makes it look infuriatingly easy, but every time he attempts to follow, it simply doesn’t work.

A little ways over on his desk lies the scarf that he now knows was made by Marinette, sitting there as a demo of what his should look like as well. It’s a soft blue, feather light to the tough and woven immaculately, without a single string out of place. In the very corner of the scarf is Marinette’s signature, sewn carefully and inconspicuously with a slightly darker shade of blue.

It’s the exact scarf Nathalie tried to pass off as his father’s gift.

Three days ago, the thought had filled him with burning anger, and he’d been a breath away from confronting his father. Now, the only thing is a numbing sort of disappointment, one he happily ignores in favor of better things—such as the fact that Marinette made him the scarf, that Marinette is Ladybug, and that he, Adrien Agreste—Chat Noir—is going on a date with Ladybug the next morning.

If, that is, he can complete the scarf.

The girl in the tutorial, movements slowed to half the speed, is once again demonstrating how to loop the knitting needle through the yarn. Adrien follows her exact steps, only to end up with a knot.

He groans a little too loudly. From the bed, Plagg lets out an indignant noise. “You’re still up?” his kwami demands grouchily.

Adrien hastily clamps his mouth shut. Plagg hates being woken up. “Sorry.”

Instead of going back to sleep, Plagg zips over the room to sit down on Adrien’s monitor. “You need to go to sleep,” he commands.

Adrien holds up his tangle of yarn. “I’m not done.”

“You probably won’t be even if you don’t sleep,” comes the dry reply. “Face it, kid, you’re not cut out for this stuff. Your fingers are too clumsy.”

“I literally play piano!”

He receives an unimpressed look in return.

“Fine,” Adrien relents. “I know I’m not good at this, but it can’t be that hard, right? Marinette has made me mittens, scarves, berets, gloves—if she can knit all that, how hard can a scarf be?”

“Hard enough for you to spend six hours and show no noticeable progress. That yarn was actually better rolled up. Now it’s useless.”

“The yarn isn’t for you, Plagg!”

Plagg heaves a long-suffering groan. “You have a date with the girl of your dreams at ten in the morning, which is in—oh, would look at that—eight and a half hours. If you’re going to wake up at seven thirty like you planned, then you best get some sleep now unless you want to show up in front of Ladybug looking like a zombie.”

Like usual, Plagg is right. Even if he were to miraculously master knitting in the next ten minutes, if he wants the scarf to be an acceptable, wearable length, it’s going to be at least another four hours. And the last thing he wants to do is show up in front of Ladybug with three hours of sleep. It's a travesty either way.

“Okay,” Adrien finally agrees. “You sleep first. I’ll go to bed in another fifteen minutes.”

(Fifteen minutes becomes an hour, then two, then three before Adrien finally gives up.)

***

Red clashes with everything.

Or at least it does now.

Marinette is late due to the extra thirty minutes she’d spent trying to figure out an outfit that doesn’t look completely ridiculous over her Ladybug costume. Everything—no matter what she tries—looks ugly. At some point, Sabine had heard her breakdown, and Marinette’s mad scramble to detransform shattered a lamp in the process.

Now, rushing to the meeting spot she and Adrien had agreed on, Marinette’s worked herself into another panic. It’s a date, it’s a date, IT’S A DATE—

She spots him on the bench. Dressed in a long beige overcoat with that godawful scarf she’d knit him one year ago (how he managed to make that bright blue go with his clothes is beyond Marinette, but she’s not complaining—he looks amazing) , Adrien lifts his eyes when she swings down next to him.

They stare at each other in charged silence until Marinette’s certain her cheeks have turned a shade of red that matches the crimson of her suit. “S-sorry,” she stammers. “I was running a bit behind.”

Adrien shoots to his feet. “It’s okay,” he reassures, and Marinette realizes that his cheeks are dusted pink as well. “You’re not that late. I’ve only been here for forty minutes.”

Mortification floods through her. “ Forty?” Marinette nearly screeches.

His eyes widen. “I was in the area early! It’s—um, I mean I—” He breaks off, shakes his head, and reaches into his bag. “I made this for you.”

She manages to look past her own embarrassment to follow Adrien’s hand, where he holds something in his open palm. A flash of red—a ribbon? A string? Marinette takes a step closer to get a better look at it, but before she can, Adrien closes his palm and hurriedly tucks his hands behind his back.

“I wanted to make you a scarf,” he admits in a quiet voice. “Especially since you’ve made me so many things already.”

She points at his hand. “Was that… the scarf?”

Adrien shakes his head quickly. “No. That was a friendship bracelet—I mean, a relationship bracelet? Um, I don’t know what to call it. Anyway, I was supposed to make you a scarf, but…I’m not that great of a knitter, it turns out.” He peers up at her with those bright green eyes, wide and sincere. “So I made the friendship—uh, relationship—bracelet.”

Marinette’s going to melt. She’s going to melt into a puddle then and there, because it’s ridiculously sweet and she’s going to burst at the seams. “Thank you,” she breathes, lightheaded from giddiness.

“And the scarf,” Adrien continues. He pulls his leather bag to his chest and opens the flap. “Looks like this.”

He pulls out a single string of yarn, then continues pulling and pulling until he ends up with a pile of tangled red yarn at his feet. When he finally reaches the end—had he stuffed the whole ball of yarn into his bag?—he opens one hand and gives her a weak grin. “Ta-da, the scarf.”

Marinette stares at the puddle of red next to his feet. Then she looks at Adrien, the lopsided, wobbly grin hanging on his lips. Then she bursts out laughing.

Damn him, she thinks, for being so sweet and funny and amazing and stupid.

“Thank you,” Marinette wheezes out between giggles. “I’ll loop that around my neck and wear it right now. It’ll be quite the fashion statement.”

Adrien seems to have gotten over a bit of his own nervousness, because his lips lift into a slightly larger smile. “If anyone could pull it off, it’d be you.”

They share another laugh, the atmosphere lighter than before, before Adrien starts stuffing the yarn back into his bag, tangling it beyond repair. Marinette tries to fight back her grin, but fails when he finally lifts his head and meets her eyes.

Can someone smile with their eyes? Because Adrien Agreste does, pure and simple. She can see the joy and mirth and life dancing behind the emerald green, and it’s beautiful. Her brain is in overdrive; she’s on a date with him?

“Here.” He extends his hand again, the self-prescribed ‘relationship bracelet’ resting on his palm. “I know it’s not much, M’lady, but do what you want with it.”

Marinette extends her own hand to him. “I’d like to wear it, then.”

His entire expression brightens. Then, gingerly, Adrien picks up her wrist and wraps the bracelet around carefully, tying it so it’s not suffocatingly tight, but snug enough for Marinette to feel it through the suit.

“I like it,” she tells him.

Adrien lets out an embarrassed laugh. “It’s kind of ugly, to be honest.”

“Insult my bracelet again and I’ll make sure you regret it. I’m never taking it off. It matches my suit, too.”

“Red for my heart,” he replies. “Which is now yours, M’lady.”

Marinette’s face probably matches the bracelet as well, but the delivery of the line is annoyingly perfect, and the butterflies fluttering in her stomach have transformed into a horde of stampeding elephants. Adrien’s face has turned slightly red as well, but he’s definitely taking it better than she is.

For the longest moment, they stare at each other. Marinette wonders if he can feel or see her happiness, which she’s sure is positively brimming out of her. Her cheeks hurt from how hard she’s been smiling, but it's the best sort of pain.

Plagg finally interrupts the staring. In a blur of black, he shoots out of Adrien’s pocket and situates himself directly in front of their faces.

“This great and all,” he complains in a voice that suggests nothing is 'great', “but if you’re going to stare into each other’s eyes for the entirety of this date, then I’m going home.”

With a laugh and an affectionate flick at his kwami’s ears, Adrien offers her his arm. “You heard our chaperone,” he jokes. “Shall we, Marinette?”

Notes: Check out my fics masterlist!

#miraculous ladybug #ladrien #adrien agreste #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #ml #my writing #mlb fic #scarf reveal #fluff #humor #ladrienjune2020

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