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moon3thereal · 3 years

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I have a request with Nat x reader. It’s a party at the compound and nobody has ever seen Nat drunk but this night she was completely gone like blackout drunk. So you end up having to carry her to her room and take care of her but she accidentally admits her love for you, you end up sleeping on the armchair in the room and in the morning you wake up to a Nat that’s throwing up on the floor, at first she don’t remember shit but later during the day she remembered what she said and gets really flustered and embarrassed but it ends I fluff reader admits her love for Nat to

Title: Drunken Confessions

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request! happy reading <3

1.4k

Everyone knew Tony Stark loved the glamour of his extravagant parties often threw in the Avengers tower. Everyone also knew that while everyone else got batshit drunk, the black widow never got even slightly tipsy after several rounds of drinking games when everyone else was drunk enough to strip to their undergarments and start pole dancing. She always only watched with a hint of amusement glinting in her emerald eyes

That led to the bet going on amongst the other Avengers, Tony threw in a solid 500 dollars to whoever got Natasha drunk while the others put in smaller amounts. Thor had been lurking around with a smug grin for a whole 5 minutes since the party had started, you had no doubt that he’d been up to no good and opted not to touch the alcohol at the bar for tonight.

Spotting a certain redhead, you sidled up to the bar in your new dress that you definitely haven’t bought to impress her and new heels that again, you definitely didn’t buy to awe her. “Someone put in effort for tonight’s party” Natasha said, dropping her gaze to your heels and all the way up until she met your eyes “trying to impress someone?” she winked teasingly. Damn it, were you that obvious “Steve maybe?” she pressed, seating yourself on one of the rotatable, red leather stools you laughed “I don’t swing that way”

Natasha hummed in acknowledgement “me neither” she said. You turned to look at her so quickly that you thought you may have given yourself whiplash “Then…You and Bruce?” you asked cautiously “there’s a reason that didn’t work out” she said, taking a sip of her martini and sending her glass a peculiar look “you’re new?” she asked the bartender “no ma’am I’ve been working here for three years” Natasha’s lips formed into a silent ‘oh’ and you stifled a laugh

After a few more glasses of alcohol, Natasha was clearly very drunk, the rest of the avengers who hadn’t seen Thor’s expression of obvious smugness had drunk the alcohol unknowingly too and Tony and Steve were challenging each other to a dance off. In their boxers. You watched with amusement and second-hand embarrassment. Meanwhile, the Russian that was the heart of all this chaos was standing across the room apparently having an argument with Clint about whether the walls are green or red. The walls are white. Then it suddenly clicked in your mind, the only alcohol that could get her so shockingly drunk, Asgardian liquor

Of course, why hadn’t you thought about it before. Thor was incredibly competitive even if he didn’t look it. You continued sitting aside from all the havoc erupting on the party floor taking tentative sips from the water you’d brought, keeping an eye on Natasha before she does something stupid. Normally that was her job, unbeknownst to you, Natasha always looked out for you during Tony’s parties, knowing your alcohol tolerance wasn’t exactly high.

Glancing at the clock, you could see that it was almost 3 in the morning and the noises had died down and all the Avengers were splayed out on the couch only half awake, Natasha was half laid half seated on two bar stools barely keeping herself upright. Deciding that you really didn’t want her to fall off and give herself a concussion, you tugged at her sleeve “come on Nat, we’re going back to your bedroom” she smirked at you with her painted lips which were normally perfect but tonight, they were slightly smudged, you liked the look on her though

“Bedroom? Getting frisky already y/l/n?” you raised your eyebrows while helping her off the chair and draping your jacket around her shoulders “getting concerned about how drunk you are” you corrected. Natasha hummed and after a few steps let her head slump onto your shoulder, you were half supporting and half carrying her but you were glad she wasn’t sober right now because your heart was probably going a million miles a minute, her hair smelt so nice, her tresses were gently tickling your neck

Caught up in your thoughts you had to abruptly steer Natasha towards her bedroom before she walked directly into a wall. Practically dumping her onto the bed with a huff from the exertion of dragging her all the way back to her room, you pulled off her heels and hung up the jacket “I love y/n, don’t you think she’s just so pretty, she’s so smart too and how she fights, it’s soooo hot” she slurred and your cheeks heated up.

You were ready to dismiss it as a hallucination, you had feelings for the redhead, you’d been harboring them for a good 2 months because you thought they’d never be reciprocated. But Natasha turned to you “do you think she likes me too?” she asked “yeah, yeah I’m sure she does” you whispered. Natasha seemed to hear it, she sighed contentedly and let her eyes close. Making your way out of the room, you heard her say “stay” it was barely a whisper but you heard it and you could never refuse her

So you slumped onto her chair with your chin supported by the heel of your hand just appreciating how gorgeous she looked even blackout drunk, ginger hair all over the place and smudged makeup. It sounded creepy but you were really just taking the advantage of being able to stare at her now before she’s sober again tomorrow and your act of indifference had to come up again.

You didn’t know at what point you fell asleep but you woke up to Natasha rushing to the bathroom and throwing up in the toilet. Hastily pulling her hair back into a ponytail, you rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. She glanced up at you when she was done and flushed the toilet “why are you here?” she asked while rinsing her mouth in the sink and holding a hand to her head while wincing. You tried to hide your disappointment, last night it was the alcohol speaking, not her, it didn’t even make sense that she would remember it, really. “you couldn’t stay on your feet on your own, let alone walk back to your room, I wanted to make sure you were okay so I slept in that armchair” you gestured to the armchair at the corner of her room

“You didn’t have to do that” she said “but I’m glad you did, thank you” sending you a tired smile. You squeezed her shoulder “I’m gonna go make some breakfast you want some?” you asked at her doorway “please” she said while removing the makeup from the night before. You nodded and made your way to the kitchen

Once you step foot in the kitchen, you saw Thor with a triumphant smile on his face and the rest of the Avengers grumbling, you slapped a 50 dollar note on the table, shaking your head amusedly as you passed by. Thor’s grin widened further as he stuffed the money into his pocket. There were pancakes in the pan, courtesy of Wanda most probably. You put two each on separate plates, slathering Nutella on yours and drizzling syrup on Natasha’s. you made some coffee and poured out two mugs

When you came back to the table, Natasha was already seated wearing a hoodie, one of yours you realized with a skip of your heartbeat, and sweatpants. Setting the plate and mug of coffee in front of her, you took a seat and dug in.

It was only in the afternoon when you and Natasha were working on reports that her cheeks suddenly went pink and she stared at you with an expression of mortification. You frowned at her sudden distress and walked over to her “what’s wrong?” you asked, genuinely concerned. “last night, what I said, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I didn’t, I mean, I do feel that way, but if you don’t it’s completely understandable and I-” you cut her off by pressing your lips to hers, the feeling of her lips against yours was heavenly, they were soft and tasted like her vanilla and cherry chapstick.

“I love you too” you whispered slightly dazed from the fact that you’d just kissed Natasha and that she hadn’t pulled away “show me how much” she said and kissed you again.

Taglist: @phoenixofash @michelle-dsn @midgardianweasley

#natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha x reader #natasha fluff #natasha x y/n #black widow x reader #black widow fluff

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 years

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Bright, cheery duplex belonging to an artist in Madrid. Bright spaces, eclectic decor and an inspiring art collection are its key- The table is made with a Vietnamese door.

On the wall, one of Harland Miller's Penguin books.

In the center of the living room, the aged leather sofa is reminiscent of a piece from the famous Italian art movement of the 1960s.

Behind the sofa is a composition of photographs and paintings by current artists.

At the foot of the stairs, a photograph by Christopher Taylor. The carpet was bought in Istanbul.

In this reading corner the white leather armchair is from the 70s and the marble and metal coffee table is new.

Dining area in the kitchen, with the iconic Tulip table.

Along with the high-gloss lacquer cabinets one of the walls has been covered with chalkboard paint on which vines have been drawn.

The kitchen is separated from the living room by glass doors with black profiles and the staircase with flying steps.

On the stairs, paintings by Corina Yllera and on the stool, by Joserra Blanco.

The bed is crowned with a painting and two stools act as bedside tables. .

From the bedroom he can enjoy the small garden on the terrace.

https://www.elledecor.com/es/casas/a38101384/duplex-terraza-artista-madrid-eclectico-luminoso-alegre/

#artist's home #duplex in madrid #modern eclectic decor #long post

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palmofafreezinghand · 3 years

Text

When you have forever why not meet again and again? on ao3 here.

Prompt 7 from this list. (The meeting part of a meet cute AU.)

1962:

“I wish I could meet you a thousand times in a thousand different worlds,” Esme ran her index over the bridge of her husband’s nose.

“You’d still like me in each?” Carlisle asked, kissing her finger when it reached his lips.

“Every time.”

Four months later there they were. Strangers.

Well, more accurately a doctor attending a medical conference in Las Vegas who invited his wife along for the last day so they could pretend to be strangers.

He was the first to arrive. He ordered a sherry and took a seat in the various armchairs scattered in the hotel bar. He pretended to sip at his drink for a few minutes, his leg restlessly shaking. It was a motion that should have died when he did but it still happened when he was especially nervous. And he was petrified. He had wooed her the first time by the grace of God and the help of a mind reader, he was absolutely doomed this time.

He watched as a man from the medical conference approached a well dressed nurse, who was nursing a white wine. He didn’t like eavesdropping but maybe he could pick up some lines from the mustached fellow. Courting had changed a lot since he was last on the market. Women went home with men on the first date. And showed ankle while doing so!

Speaking of. His wife… a stranger, who happened to be the most elegant woman he had ever seen, was descending the main staircase in a cocktail dress that ought to have been outlawed. The bar’s radio was playing Dean Martin’s ‘Just in Time’ which seemed a little on the nose but there she was, just in time.

He tracked her as she made her way to the bar, a man in a brown sport coat was anxious to buy her a drink. A vodka martini, dry, two olives.

The man stumbled over his words as he tried to charm her but for every smart line he managed to come up with Esme had an even witter response. Eventually the man excused himself and Carlisle’s opportunity presented itself.

He discreetly dumped his sherry into the nearby potted plant and made his way to the bar. A step and a half at a time, racing to get to her side before the balding man, who’d been ever so subtly eyeing her chest all evening, across the room could.

He placed his empty glass on the counter and ordered a second sherry. He felt her stare while he waited for his drink but he didn’t look. She may look like a billion bucks but he could play hard to get. The waiter returned with his drink and he tipped handsomely. He turned to leave when he felt a light hand on his elbow.

“Esme.” Her gloved hand hovered in the air.

“Enchante.” Carlisle placed a kiss on her knuckles, meeting her eyes for the first time that night as he did so.

“Tu parles français?” She raised a brow.

“Not to women I’ve only just met,” Carlisle smiled. “May I buy you a drink?”

“I already have one, Mr?”

“Dr. Cullen. Carlisle.” With her foot she pushed the adjacent stool away from the bar and he took the cue.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Carlisle.” She grinned, absent mindlessly spinning the toothpick in her drink.

“No, Carlisle’s my first name,” Carlisle stammered. “My last name is Cullen. It’s Dr. Carlisle Cullen, you can simply call me Carlisle if you’d like. Not implying you care to call me anything. I,” he took a deep breath in an attempt to ease his nerves. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Carlisle it is then.” She raised her glass to her lips for two seconds and faked a swallow. “What an unusual name.”

“Says Esme,” he smiled at the reference to their true first encounter over fifty years prior.

“Touché,” she grinned as she slightly tipped her drink towards him in defeat. “You play, Doctor?” She motioned to the casino floor.

“When in Rome,” he shrugged, faking a gulp of his drink.

“Andiamo,” she grinned and spun on her stool. They abandoned their drinks and she led him to a roulette table.

___

Carlisle gave Esme two dollars to bet out of his wallet, and she talked him into betting two himself. He lost, playing safe but unreliable bets. She won eight dollars and fifty cents on her first bet and cashed out. However, while the wheel spun a well dressed man kept slipping Esme his own chips just so she’d stay.

She offered to buy Ralph, that was the high roller’s name, a drink with the thirty dollars she’d won on his dime. He agreed and Carlisle watched as the wife he’d had for forty-one years spent the evening being smooth-talked by a man wearing too much aftershave.

He bought himself two more sherries and eventually Ralph’s wife came to fetch her husband. Which left Esme alone, for a whopping minute and a half before some man asked her to dance to the music of the live band. She, ever the courteous woman, agreed.

As the man’s hand creeped lower on Esme’s back Carlisle crept closer and closer to the dance floor.

Some blonde’s, sipping a vodka cranberry, eyes kept darting between her drink and him. He asked her to dance to the jazz rock band. She quite enthusiastically obliged. He led them closer and closer to Esme and Handsy man. When the wannabe debonaire spun Esme, Carlisle spun the blonde and caught Esme’s hand instead.

“Look who’s returned,” she beamed, slipping her arm around his neck.

“You say that as if you were expecting me,” he grinned as his hand found the middle of her back, like a gentleman. Watching over Esme’s head as their abandoned dancing partners danced awkwardly to save face.

“I’ll admit, I was secretly hoping you would try again.”

“Well, here I am.” He spun her again but this time he was the one who caught her.

_______

Esme’s hand trapped Carlisle’s wrist against the table as he reached out to make his next chess move. “That can’t possibly be right.” She frowned at his watch that read two in the morning.

“How quick time passed,” Carlisle sighed. They had agreed to pretend from nine to midnight. He enjoyed himself more than he thought he would and selfishly didn’t want to trade in the charade so soon.

“Where does that leave us?” Esme asked, also reluctant to end the evening.

“I believe it is customary if the lady wishes for the evening to continue to extend an invitation for a nightcap.”

“Well,” she paused and for a split second he thought she was going to bid him farewell. “Would you care for a night cap, Doctor?”

“I consider myself a gentleman,” Carlisle said against his better judgement.

“And a gentleman doesn’t socialize on the first meeting?” She laughed.

“As a rule, no,” he sighed. “Although, I suppose there is a French speaking elegant exception to every rule, is there not?”

“You tell me,” Esme cocked a brow as she started to lead them to the elevators. He glanced around the almost empty hotel. Posters for Nat King Cole, a 24 hour chapel, a luxurious breakfast buffet, and a group called The Rat Pack, littered the velvet walls.

He caught her arm, “I have an even better idea.”

“Oh?” She let him pull her closer.

“Marry me?”

“What?” She laughed, it was clearly not the question she expected. To be honest it wasn’t the idea he planned to say.

“Come on, marry me.”

“I barely know you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple, yours?” Her dress was certainly making an excellent argument for the shade.

“Blue,” Esme responded automatically. “What?” She frowned.

“Nothing,” he smiled to himself. It was the first date she was allowed to lie.

“You have a face,” she countered.

“I would not have pinned you for a blue girl, that’s all,” he shrugged.

“What was the answer you were anticipating?”

“White… cream… ivory….off white, pearl, lily-white.” He grinned and she couldn’t stifle her laughs. The hearty sound convinced him of what he already knew. “Marry me.”

“You’re mad.”

“I've been told I’m good company, even if I’m not I’m pretty to look at.”

Esme sighed as he batted his eyelashes. He could tell she was considering it as her eyes bounced around the casino floor. “I suppose I don’t have a good reason not to.”

“It’s settled then,” Carlisle grinned and grabbed his bride’s hand, leading her to the hotel’s entrance.

_____

“That’s quite a car,” Carlisle whistled as the valet pulled up the red ‘58 Corvette Esme had rented at the airport. The same model in black slept in their garage back home.

“Ain’t she a beaut?” Esme grinned as she tipped the valet attendee.

They zipped through the neon Strip with ease, the bright signs almost reflected against her bare arms. They let the top down and the wind whipped their hair against their faces. He clicked on the stereo, Dinah Washington’s ‘What a Difference a Day Makes’ played from the small speakers. His wife’s voice quickly accompanied the singer, he joined in with the background oooh’s.

What a difference indeed, yet none at all.

______

“How do you even spell Cullen?” Esme asked, hunched over the half filled out marriage license.

“Two l’s one n.”

“K or c?”

“C.”

“‘Esme Cullen.’ I think I like that.”

“You better it’s far too late to change your mind, Mrs. Cullen,” he grinned as he slipped the marriage license, which they’d be disposing of immediately, in his coat pocket.

“Oh, I definitely like the sound of that.”

____

“Good morning,” he murmured as he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder.

“Morning,” she whispered as she rolled to face him. “Thank you for playing along last night, it was fun to pretend.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve only just met you,” he said, brushing the messy curls off her forehead.

“Is that so?”

“So gallantly saved you from that yutz who insisted on bothering you the whole evening.”

“A yutz? Oh my God, Carlisle,” she laughed, poking at his chest.

“That sounded very different last night. Try it again, more … reverent.” He went to mimic her but was smothered by a pillow before he could get out a word.

“I want a divorce.”

“Tough luck, kid.” Carlisle laughed as he waved his ring finger decorated with a fake gold band the overnight chapel had included in the ‘Lovebird’ special. “You foolishly signed up for two forevers.”

“I want two divorces.”

“You know, I believe honeymoons are still customary for elopements,” he muttered through the down pillow.

“You have to work,” the pillow dropped from his face.

“Not till Tuesday.”

“What day is it?” Mrs. ‘Compulsive Scheduler’ had forgotten what day of the week it was? That was certainly his influence, he’d apologize for it if he didn’t wear it with such pride.

“Wednesday,” he muttered against the crook of her neck. “What do you say? Six whole days. Just us. We could drive down the coast. Swim out to the Channel islands, recreate the real thing.”

“The kids will burn down the house.”

“You’ll build a new one.”

“It’s reckless and impulsive.”

“Twenty year olds are supposed to be reckless and impulsive and marry women they’ve only just met because they think her dress would look better on the floor.” He was right, it did.

“I knew that dress would get you,” she whispered.

“Run away with me.”

“Alright! Alright! Fine,” she conceded when his teeth scraped the sensitive scar on her neck. “That wasn’t fair.”

“Never have I been accused of playing fair.” As if to prove his point he was halfway across the room within a second. Ready to start the day and abandoning the silent promises he’d made in the comfort of linen sheets.

#to the prompts in my inbox i see you & love ya i promise they're coming soon i just needed to write something stupid & silly real quick #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #carlesme #my stories

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talsiaa · 3 years

Text

Tattoo Shop AU - wolfstar

*not my art but it’s stunning <33 it’s by @savysami !*

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin (I love wolfstar sm)

Summary: Sirius owns a tattoo parlour. Wolfstar fluff ensues. Also, they’re not wizards and Remus isn’t a werewolf :)

Warnings: tattoo stuff -needles, blood, pain.

Word Count: 1420

A/N: This is apart of @band--psycho ‘s bingo challenge, I’m so excited to be apart of it :)) Disclaimer though, never once have I ever been into a tattoo parlour so this is what I assume happens but I could be wrong so read it with a pinch of salt if you actually know about tattoos. Hope you all enjoy <3

The soft glows of sunset brushed upon Remus’ skin, bringing out his freckles, as he paced back and forwards in front of the tattoo parlour he was booked into about 15 minutes ago. At first, he had not been phased by the idea of getting a tattoo - ever since he was a teen he thought they looked incredibly attractive and was so sure he wanted one. Now, however, as he stood reaching for the door handle for what must have been the fifth time, he was unusually nervous. What if it hurts too much? What if he hates it? What if he flinches and causes the artist to mess it up? With the many doubts running through his head, he had not yet spotted the amused-looking tattoo artist watching him through the window from the front desk. Deciding he could no longer sit and watch his 5 o’clock appointment pace in front of his shop, Sirius Black made his way outside, startling Remus as he opened the front door.

“So are you going to pace out here all night or would you like to come in?” Sirius mocked, still giving the other young man a warm smile as to not scare him off.

“S-sorry, I just, erm...well...” Remus stood like a deer in headlights at the (rather attractive) man in front of him, not really having a reason for his pacing that wouldn’t completely embarrass him.

“Don’t worry, most people who come in are nervous for their first tattoo.” Sirius reassured him, nodding his head into the parlour and holding the door open for Remus who very uncertainly took the hint to go inside.

The parlour was unexpectedly cosy - a small fireplace opposite the front desk making the art-covered walls glow orange. Pictures of past work hung above the desk and Remus couldn’t help thinking how beautifully talented you must be to be able to do any of it.

“I’m Sirius, by the way.” Sirius walked past Remus, towards a crooked spiral stair case in the corner of the room. Remus supposed he should follow.

“I’m Remus. Sorry, I am quite late.” Remus with his six-foot-something frame struggled to fit in the passageway at the top of the stairs, ducking his head when he went under a light.

“Oh, it’s okay. You’re my last appointment and anyway,” Sirius now turned around to smile at Remus once again, walking backwards through a door that let to a tiny break room. “I enjoyed watching you pace, it was cute,”

“Oh, er, you saw the full fifteen minutes, huh?” Remus decided to chuckle instead of just combusting with regret, scratching at the back of his neck. Sirius hummed in response, flicking a kettle on.

“It’s okay, though, honestly. Loads of people get nervous coming in for their first tattoo...” the reassuring speech Sirius started was muted in Remus’ mind as he finally got to look properly at the artist.

Sirius Black was covered with tattoos. Tiny doodles peppered his skin, filling the space between some of his bigger pieces. On his forearm Remus noticed a constellation, although half of it was covered by the white shirt arms he had rolled up and untidily buttoned halfway up his arm. His skinny jeans didn’t quite go with the rather smart looking shirt, but once again Remus’ mind was racing because wow, Sirius Black was hot.

“So yeah,” Remus tuned back into Sirius’ words, both of them sitting round a small coffee table in the middle of the room on battered leather armchairs. “Drink your tea and we’ll talk about what you actually want tattooed. I’ll draw some designs and you can pick your favourite - oh, you don’t take sugar, do you?” Sirius asked just as Remus put his mug to his lips and shook his head. “I’ll answer any questions you have too, it might make you less nervous?”

Remus gave a small, grateful smile at this and murmured a thank you, placing his mug onto the table while Sirius opened his sketch book. “I actually had a few ideas, but I’m not sure which I’d like to go with. So, one of them was the phases of the moon, maybe just below my collar bone. Or, this on my bicep,”

Remus quickly took out his phone and showed a picture he’d saved a few weeks prior.

“Not the writing, though, sort of just the circle bit,”

“Alright, great. Here, might be able to choose if you can see them drawn out.” Sirius thrust the sketch pad at Remus and he took it, biting his lip in concentration. The paper showed the tattoos he wanted drawn onto a rough sketch of both body parts. “If you want both that’s okay too. Like I said, you’re my last appointment so I really don’t mind if it takes a bit longer than expected.”

“Erm, can we do the moon phases one today and the other one another time? I’d hate to keep you late.” In reality, Remus wasn’t sure he’d stay 100% conscious if he got both done one after the other. He had just a little fear of needles. Sirius could definitely sense this was the real reason but didn’t push it.

“Definitely. Come on, we’ll go into the studio.” Remus followed him back out of the room and into the tiny corridor again but luckily went straight next door. In this room, everything was sleek and clean and smelled like disinfectant. A black couch stood against the wall, facing the tattoo chair. Drawers and plastic boxes of various equipment were organised about the room.

“Jump on the chair and pop your shirt off,” Sirius flicked the lamp attached to the chair on and sauntered across the room to get the tattoo gun, ink and disinfectant.

Pulling his David Bowie tshirt over his head, Remus started feeling even more shaky and nervous. A pit was starting to form in his stomach and he didn’t like it one bit.

“Nothing to worry about, okay? You’re perfectly safe, I promise.” Sirius had made his way back to sit on a stool next to Remus with everything he needed sprawled out next to him. His voice low and soothing, making Remus suppose that even if he was in an unbearable amount of pain in the next five minutes, at least he’d have a really attractive man telling him it’s okay in the most enchanting way he’d ever heard. “If you need me to stop for a few moments just tell me. Afterwards I’ll get you a lolly if you’re a really brave boy, yeah?”

Although mocking, there was a quite a suggestive undertone to Sirius’ words. Remus took a deep breath and nodded while the other boy got to work, cleaning the area under his collar bone. The tattoo gun then graced his soft skin, making him wince and screw his eyes shut, tensing up a little.

“Just try and relax for me, Remus. You’re doing great, it’ll be over in a minute.” Sirius’ soothing words caused Remus to relax into the chair a little, the pain becoming a little duller as blood prickled to the surface of his skin, making it numb.

After not long at all, the pain stopped and was replaced by an ache instead. Looking down, a perfect depiction of the moon phases was etched into his collar bone and he immediately loved it, even if it was reddened at the present.

“There we go, all done. See, that wasn’t too bad was it?” Sirius started cleaning the gun, putting various bits back where they came from and helping Remus out of the chair. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright. I really like it, thank you!” Remus was grinning at him, and Sirius couldn’t help but grin back.

Another five minutes and Remus had had his tattoo carefully wrapped up and was at the counter downstairs again, being given instructions on how to look after his tattoo until it heals.

“That’s a pack of all the stuff you’re gonna need to keep it from getting infected and swollen.” Remus was handed a plastic toiletries bag of different lotions and anti-bac stuff. “As promised, a lolly for being brave,” Sirius smirked as he handed Remus a strawberry flavoured lolly. “And, er, this is my number.” A small piece of paper with small digits was also handed over.

“In case I have any problems with it?”

“Yeah, I suppose that too. But also,” Sirius leaned in over the desk separating them, his smirk only growing. “In case you wanna text me so I can ask you on a date.”

Remus had never blushed so hard.

#band--pyschos bingo challenge 2021 #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #gay #fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #au #tattoo shop AU #harry potter #tattoos #harry potter au

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juliafied · 3 years

Note

How about FenHawke and ♖: Having their hair washed by your muse!

Thank you for the prompt! I feel like I dedicate far too much time to setup of a particular scenario I imagine in my head, so this is quite a bit longer than first expected, but I think it’s such a sweet scene.

@dadrunkwriting | Read it on AO3

It had been raining all night.

Hawke listened to the tapping on the windowpane of her bedroom as she went through her correspondence, trying to knock out one more letter to the seneschal before her candle burnt out. Cursing him for requiring a response to an ‘urgent matter’ on such short notice, she signed her name most annoyedly, despite the “cordially” that preceded it. Folding the letter into thirds, placing it into an envelope, and sealing the parchment with a portion of wax, she sighed and blew out the long-suffering candle.

After pondering her empty mug for a few moments, Hawke descended the stairs to pour herself one last cup of herbal tea. At first, she thought she imagined it – a few tentative taps on her door. It was probably the wind driving some heavier rain under the awning.

Then, as she boiled some water, she heard it again, a little bit more insistent this time.

Her brows pinched in worry. It was unlikely that an intruder would announce themselves in this way; more probably was that one of her friends was in trouble. Her thoughts immediately turned to Anders and a late-night emergency at the clinic. She abandoned her task and rushed towards the door, snatching a decorative sword off the wall just in case, and unbolted, unlocked, and opened the heavy front door to the Amell estate just a crack.

Under her awning, sopping wet and looking miserable, was Fenris.

He brightened visibly when she opened the door fully, the sight of his quick smile filling her stomach with warmth.

“Hawke. I apologize, is it a bad time. I just meant to…”

It had been a few weeks since he had said those words that had changed everything. If there is a future to be had, I would walk into it gladly, by your side. She got goosebumps at the thought of it. Since then, they had settled into something similar to their previous companionship, but easier, freer – walks home from the Hanged Man could now include the thrill of hands touching, laughs could be followed by kisses… Felissa felt the kind of bliss that she hadn’t even been able to imagine.

She realized that she was staring and hadn’t said anything yet.

“Flames, please, come in, you’re shivering.” She hurriedly propped open the door with her foot and lightly laid a hand on his shoulder as he went inside. He really was shivering, his linen shirt soaked through and cold despite the earlier summer heat.

“Thank you,” he murmured as she shut the door behind him. “A contingency plan?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, nodding towards the sword that looked comically large in her hands, used to holding smaller stilettos and daggers.

She sheepishly hoisted it back onto its place on the wall. “I don’t get many friendly late-night visitors. Usually it’s someone who’s very, very angry with me.”

He laughed. “Fair enough.”

As glad as she was to see him, his presence this late at night and braving such unpleasant weather was worrying. “So… is everything alright?” Seeing his sheepish expression, she quickly continued, “Not that I’m unhappy to see you. The contrary, actually.” Her earlier assessment of his decidedly not-dry state also prompted her to add, “Do you want a towel, or something?”

“I… yes, that would be much appreciated.” He followed her upstairs to her bedroom, dripping water on the ugly rug that she hated but had been a ‘family heirloom, Felissa Anais Hawke!’ Good, I hope it gets ruined, she thought, glancing fondly back at him.

He deftly caught the fluffy towel that she tossed from the depths of the linen closet, and gratefully wrapped it around his shoulders. She instructed him to sit in the armchair by the hearth in her room as she dashed downstairs, remembering the boiling water and tea she had ready. She pushed the mug into his hands wordlessly and sat down across from him in the other chair, cupping her chin in her hands.

Fenris sighed and took a sip, looking mildly embarrassed. “I had a nightmare. The worst in awhile – I thought you might be awake. If I have overstepped…” he trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

“Not at all. You know you can come here anytime, love.” There it was, the comfort she had longed to easily give. He smiled warmly at that. She knew it was difficult for him to entrust anyone with his hurt. She was touched that he had come to her. If only she could have been there for him a thousand times before, too.

“I am glad of your kindness, Hawke,” he murmured. She noticed that despite the tea, the fire in the hearth, and the thick towel, he was still trembling.

She had an idea. “Wait here,” she said suddenly, and skipped over to retrieve a few large pails from beside the tub in her room. “I know just the thing to warm you up. Sandal put these runes in my bathtub that heat the water quickly and keep it warm forever. Would you like to try it?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he started, but Felissa shushed him with a soft press of her lips to his forehead.

“It’s not an imposition if I’m offering. No pressure, though.”

He smiled and nodded.

Within a few minutes, Fenris had finished the tea, and Felissa had fetched enough water to fill the tub. She activated the runes embedded into the tub the way that Sandal had shown her. She also tossed a sprig of lavender in and some salts for good measure. In no time at all, soft plumes of steam were coming off the top of the water.

“There you go,” she said, taking the mug from his hands. “Do you want me to leave so you can undress, or…?”

He gave the low chuckle that she loved so much. “A bit too late for that, I think.”

Fenris shook off the towel and peeled off the shirt, then his trousers, then, finally, his smalls. She felt it wouldn’t be the best time to stare, so she busied herself with hanging his wet clothes by the fire. She felt a rush of gladness at the sigh of satisfaction she heard as he slipped into the water. It was then that she dared glance over. Water up to his ears, Fenris’ eyes were closed, and the shivering was gone.

“Thank you, Hawke. This is truly… exquisite,” he murmured with another sigh.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said quietly, smiling at his relaxed demeanour.

“Do you bathe like this all the time? I can’t be bothered to heat my own water most of the time.”

“Yes,” she replied, adding cheekily, “Maybe you should join me sometime.”

Another low laugh. “I should like that.”

She picked up the stool in the corner of her room and brought it over to sit by the tub. “Was it the same dream?”

Fenris nodded, eyes still closed. “I think I’ve shaped my dreams so long with Danarius in mind that they do not easily forget, now that he is dead.”

Hawke sighed. Her mother’s living form still appeared in her dreams too, despite the years that had gone by.

They sat like this for awhile, enjoying each others’ company. Fenris smiled and opened his eyes eventually.

“It is truly remarkable. You said Sandal made these runes?”

“Yes. I’m truly spoiled by my household, I know.”

“For good reason, I think.”

Then, she had what she thought was her second good idea of the night.

“Fenris – I have this nice soap, I think it’s from Orlais. Do you – would you like me to wash your hair?”

Suddenly, he looked conflicted. A frown passed across his face, along with a pinch of his brow.

She quickly added, “I just thought it might feel nice for you. I always liked when Bethany or Mother would wash my hair. I’d stop anytime, if you asked,” she said earnestly.

He looked hesitant for a moment longer, then nodded decisively.

She beamed. “If you so much as flinch, I’ll stop, I promise.”

After fetching the soap, she dipped the floral-scented bar in the water and formed a lather in her hands. Once it was thick enough, she very slowly began working it into Fenris’ hair, no longer cold due to the steam rising off the surface of the bath. The lather blended with his white locks, making it difficult to tell where she had cleaned already and where she had not, but she made do by feel.

“Is this okay?” she asked, ever so often. He nodded every time.

Once the lather was thick enough, she gently started massaging his scalp, working from the top of his head, down through the crown and the back, and then returning to the temples. With a soft touch, remembering how Bethany had done it for her, she pressed lightly, tracing circles with her fingers. She was relieved when Fenris relaxed into her touch, even sighing contentedly when she massaged his temples.

Adding a little bit of soap for a final lathering of his silky strands, she retrieved one of the pails she had used to carry water.

“I used to hate this part as a child,” she murmured with a smile. “Mother said I would scream the entire time anyone dunked water on my head. I remember this, but I don’t even know why.”

He chuckled. “Perhaps the water was too cold.”

She made a face. “Probably. No one sold runes like this in the Lothering marketplace.” She filled the bucket with the water in the bath. “Either way, let me know if you don’t like this, and I’ll get you to wash out the soap yourself.”

Fenris nodded, and murmured, “Go ahead.”

Slowly, she poured the water on his head, taking care not to get the soap into his eyes or too much water into his ears. Rinsing out the soap with her hands, she emptied the pail, and refilled it again. “Was that alright?” she asked quietly, and Fenris gave a slow nod.

She repeated the process until his hair was free of soap, taking as much care as the first time. Emptying the pail after the final time, she set it on the floor next to the tub. Fenris smiled amusedly.

“Fortunately, I did not feel the urge to scream incessantly.”

She laughed. “I’m glad. I’m not sure my neighbours would appreciate that.”

He twisted suddenly in the water, a hand emerging to grasp her own. He gently pressed her fingers to his lips. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely.

She simply smiled.

“Did you enjoy your bath?”

“Yes. I had forgotten,” and now he paused, considering his words, “or perhaps I have never known, what it feels like to be taken care of.”

At that, she wished to take him into her arms, but of course, that would get her all wet. She settled on pressing a kiss to his wet, now gardenia-scented, hair.

“Oh, Fenris. I would take care of you ‘til the end of my days.”

#fenhawke #dadwc #prompt fill #fluff #fanfic #fenris #da2 #dragon age #julia writes

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

It’s a Mother Flocking Puffin Pt 22

Use of Karliene: Walk with the Devil. Requested by @deepestfirefun.

…

‘Rest up, hope you’re feeling better. Been getting calls and messages all day yesterday and this morning to pass on that everyone will wait as long as necessary for their instruments to be repaired and returned. Your health is imperative.’ Bilbo’s message read loud and clear across your phone screen once you’d been given it from your bag that had kept it safe.

Along with that inquiries from Mal and thanks for saving her from that dagger notices from the social page you were instructed to make to display previews of your artwork for your illustration course to be tagged for the class and school for possible interest from future employers. The only public account you had with scores of messages of well wishes and compliments of the song you had been at the school to record.

Curious of how you did the clip was easily found on the same site your videos for the guys were posted on in the popular news category. The stilled image was you in the booth while the band outside readied to play the tune for you. And to the first note the camera steadied into a slightly better angle to come to rest as your voice came out in an accented Khuzdul flow sounding so awkward to you while others in the comments were praising the song you’d written for the popular fable a production company was currently filming. Snare taps to a drum beat kept the song going while the brass section readied for their role to the melody.

I've never claimed to be a good boy

That lad is long dead

'Cause I got stuck in the wars, Grace

Ones with bullets

And ones in my head

But you made it so

Easy to let go

Now I'm all alone

And the shots are deafening

A few lines in the footage flickered between you and a montage of sorts, reading a sort of fable linked to your lineage with Melkor’s death and inherited oath to bring down your family passed to the Avari.

So I walk with the Devil

My rivals best be careful

'Cause when you're already dead

There's no gun at your head

You're finally free

This one more of a fan video for your saving the day as slowed down enough to get stilled images of your fighting the Avari to when Smaug was released.

I shook hands with the Devil

Ah this town best be careful

'Cause when you're already dead

There's no rope for your neck

You're finally free

Yeah, I walk with the Devil

People fled while you ran from the courtyard. More stilled images flickered of the path to the Nursery until more flames destroyed that wing.

Do you remember that broken man

When you sang your song?

And how you put him back together, girl

With your voice and with your love

The shop came next up to the trio hoisting up the wind lance ending with the reduction of Smaug to rubies and gold.

'Cause you made it so

Easy to let go

Now I'm all alone

And the shots are deafening

The image of Thorin’s elated embrace of you afterwards was held for a good while with banners of wishes for long rules for their interim King and Queen.

So I walk with the the Devil

My rivals best be careful

Cause when you’re already dead

There’s no gun at your head

You’re finally free

The final part held a montage of clips from your videos on the progress for building your piano and repair job for the orchestra with words of hope to see what music you would bring into the world in the years to come.

I shook hands with the Devil

Ah this town best be careful

Cause when you’re already dead

There’s no rope for your neck

You’re finally free

The combination was a bit awkward of a match to go with the song but you simply took it as the culture variations at play that you simply didn’t see the tying features at not having grown up with their media they were used to. Still shockingly low on the pop culture references here down you scrolled realizing this was a fan video and not how this was put on the news. That footage was five times the length of this video due to the discussion of the anchors and a frozen image on one of the parts of you with what looked to be ice wings coming from your back used for another fan video titled Dragon vs Puffin Queen. Each video you saw continued the pattern of using various parts of the footage until you dipped to something else entirely. One focused solely on the song faces of Dwarves for the video you clicked on showed their shared plea for the production company to use the song you’d written for that fable in their upcoming film stirring a smirk out of you.

At your side you set the phone and again in your bag your hand dipped to fetch your notepad to continue working on a writing assignment formerly due in a week. Emails had been sent that the rest of the week the school was being cleaned with usable portions to continue housing classes while those in the destroyed wings would be moved to other courses. Among the few students on required bed rest and the parents understandably requiring some time off virtual courses were to be given for each applicable with written projects to be assigned weekly for the courses requiring physical attendance to have a grade to place until those lectures could be made up.

All the same you would do all you could to leave little extra stress for your Professors on top of the shift to not have to make up too many assignments. On the other hand however the Professors having heard from the news that the worst injuries you faced were cracked ribs assured you that there was no rush for you to hurry back to class before you were fully healed to not hurt yourself even more in returning before the month was up. Even after the Feast was set to take place to grant you more relaxation time even if your ribs and other troubles were healed by then.

Being with you was priority, though for his urge to stay curled up with you half an hour was what he set aside daily to work on the bunnies for you, maybe more if you had drifted off into a nap. Each day bringing him closer to the finished present he could give to you before the holiday break would come to tick off another marker to your courtship before meeting your clans in person. The first day went easily enough with small naps taken every so often between meals. With the second once you had finished off all your backed up work even a dig for an old needlework kit had taken up a few hours while Thorin had picked up some more loose ends to help carry the equal share of evening out from the fallout. Mainly the management of funds to be allocated to the building crews chosen for repairing the University and landscaping teams which should cover most of the issues for the remainder of the week minus the daily meetings.

A clever idea came from Balin’s wife in her time to bond with you while Dis sat for the official portrait for her, Vili and their children for that release at the end of the week when Thror and Niro would return home to the Palace. Propped on your legs rested on top of two pillows while you were being iced post stop by the Healers to stretch and massage out your still tight leg from hip to toe sat a tablet. With it you eyed the 3d model of the cottage you had chosen that she smirked relaxing that at least in your boredom some work to get more steps completed could be started, and the length of the task could take up ample time to get you through this healing bout of bed rest.

Easily the agreed furry foot stools and the forest green rug like in one of the studies you had seen with different color patterns were added. Tucked in the bedroom was a bed frame you wanted that by a peek into the boys’ room in the rental you shared Thorin might not be against using that frame for your marital bed. Blank boxy white furniture was settled where you wanted to fill spaces to be agreed upon later with the basic rooms first, starting with the living room. White furniture scooted around the room expanding and shrinking around the white rug before you turned your focus to the color of the walls, patterned wallpaper for a few rooms to be looked over by Thorin later surely as it wasn’t just going to be your home it’d be his too.

By the time you moved onto the dining room while your company was off to feed her little girl and put her down for a nap Thorin had come back and smiled ready to relax himself with an ice pack on his shoulder. Right up to your side with a gentle press of his lips to your cheek he wiggled closer, smile splitting wider in notice of what you were up to and the bashful grin on your face at being caught pressing forward on this step alone.

“Decorating to keep you busy?” He hummed gladly with eyes shifting to your face again, the blush on your face lured him inwards to steal another kiss on your cheek. “Let’s see what you have so far.”

“I have the stools we already agreed on, and I was thinking this rug, if those colors work.”

“That is a lovely rug,”

“And I did pick a bed frame like this, if you’d be good with that?”

“My beds have always been like this.” Hastily he wet his lips. “There is a style I imagined for the armchairs in our study and parlor guests won’t be using, just for us, it’s nice and deep,” his fingers on one hand found the style and settled one in place that with a tap of your own you added a second and switched between the colors tugging a smirk across his lips.

“Ooh, I like this grey one.” Once that was placed you said, “Maybe we should pick room colors and papers first.” Starting the task to coloring each room you could leaving the others blank for the time being with a symbolic giant crystal sculpture of Mumakil in the center of those rooms as a symbol to come back to later.

Kili grinned saying, “Now, I am on the camera, countdown, 5,” he hurried over and you giggled at his switching the camera on to record with the mini screen aimed at the three of you. You were tucked up in a plushy armchair with feet up on a furry foot rest with pillows rested behind your back fully warmed by the lit fireplace to your left, Fili was seated on one arm of the chair with Kili for the other. “2,” Back at your free side he came and smiled making you nip at your lip and grin through their usual sign in ready and comfortable for this video the guys thought would be a good check in for the public to say you are on the mend.

Lowly in Khuzdul they both said, “Welcome back to our little corner of the LonelyMountain. Today our salon doors are open to you.”

“ManeMan,” Fili said with a grin before Kili said, “And the GlitterGrizzly” Both bowed briefly making you glance down to shift your legs again, “At your service.” Their hands clapped and the pair settled a hand on the chair back behind your head smiling wider, “And today we are here again with our incredible model SnowBunny.”

In a soft giggle you waved with your now sling free arm glad to have some normal movement from that shoulder again and the pair each brought forward a set of measuring tapes, “Who is so kindly allowing us to measure her for a sketch while she relaxes by her lovely warm fire.”

Kili, “Already from our selection of candles she has chosen her favorite, a lovely warm cider scent.” With a smile he watched Fili play with and light the candle he set up on the mantle behind you.

Fili in sitting down again, “And now that we are assured our model is tucked nice and comfy in this large armchair with blanket, pillows and furry footrest we shall get to the measuring.” Through giggles you let them shift you subtly with tapes covering what was revealed above the blanket and just a long measure of the top of your legs and the tent your feet made on the stool. Each number was recorded on a notepad before the pair smiled moving to the stools set out they showed off smoothing their hands over them lifting the sketch pads and pencils waiting there for both on opposite sides of you to get started on the sketch. Halfway through to another exaggerated show of using their pencils to scale up a part of the sketches Sir Akdâmuthrab came over and climbed his way up onto your lap.

Kili, “Hey! I was almost done!”

Fili chuckled saying to the camera, “Introducing a little Burglar who is intent on stealing the focus of our SnowBunny.”

“Oh he can’t help it, nice and warm and he likes to cuddle since I can’t run away and wake him up,” you giggled out to the Princes who chuckled.

Kili leaned in saying, “Now to just wait for him to settle so I can get his markings right, him and his envious mustache and brows.”

Again you giggled out, “If he keeps up photo bombing we might have to pick him out a bowtie. Something fancy to wear.”

Fili, “Ooh, we could do that, stitch him up some options and have a try out for him to see which he likes.”

Exaggerated sketch sounds and taps on the pads came with your Burglar’s napping stretch granting them a second shot to get him added to the images that at the end they showed off. Once signed off the guys switched the video to edit while around you then posted it with a nice little message for a mini update from the Young Majesty from the Palace. The video had to be done today as the guys were meeting up with their team for a practice before the game this weekend taking them from your company and leaving you to Thorin’s watch once Thror and Niro return.

They were off while you slept soundly in a nap post lunch break, having been helped back to the comfortable mattress by the boys as walking was a bit rough on breathing easily for long distances past the occasional bathroom trip you could manage there and back again on your own.

Thror upon seeing Thorin tugged him into a tight hug, “How are you feeling?”

Niro promptly claimed her own hug widening his grin, “In any pain?”

“I am doing well, bit sore, but more for the massages and realignment from the Healers. Mostly just bruises and scrapes for me.”

Thror, “How is Jaqi? We saw the video the boys posted this morning. Quite early.”

“Jaqi is doing well, slept early, rough to say better or not, ribs are still troubling for her to walk or move too freely with just yet.”

Niro, “Are the Healers with her?”

Thorin shook his head, “No, resting right now, we just had lunch a bit ago.”

She looked over her grandson, “Are you resting?”

“Yes, I’ve been staying with Jaqi most nights unless it’s too late after things that have come up. I don’t want to wake her or make her shift by me joining her in her sleep to hurt her ribs. I am sleeping, just still tired.”

Thror, “Are you off to rest after we do the public hand off of the ring?”

Thorin nodded, “Small nap, then I would like to finish up the touches on the bunnies. Just a few tiny things to double check then it’s waiting until she is healed to have a walk or picnic at least.”

Thror patted him on the back, “That is a relief, come and we will handle this business and you will be demoted again to focus solely on our granddaughter.” Deepening the Prince’s smile on the joint turn from the garage where their jet had let them out to get inside the Palace walls.

All was still locked down on these grounds at least as it would stay out of respect for you to grant you ample protection and trust that you had all the time you needed to recover. While you had been resting the Emperor when not at your side had made a couple trips on the days you were meant to go into the shop to at the very least assure Bilbo that you were all holding up nicely, along with handling a few press updates with simple statements in passing. All that you were improving and following the Doctor’s instructions to continue doing so after a blow to the ribs. They were your main injury that none wished to rush you on as in their required sparring courses rib injuries were abundantly common and known to require a bit of babying to recover from no matter how irritating the bed laying could be. All in all the people were of good spirits knowing ample updates day to day after what could have gone so much worse for everyone involved.

Niro with a smile looped her arm into Thorin’s arm asking, “And what is this I hear about cottage decorations while on your bed rest?”

Thorin chuckled along with Thror, “A tablet was given to keep her distracted, mainly just wall colors and a few rooms down.”

Niro, “It is a start, once the mirrors are taken down off that pillar then we can get to painting and papering the cottage.”

“Put a little something together for you, my Yuula,” the Emperor said rolling you in the wheeled chair to your 3rd spare bedroom now turned into a mini workshop filled with a selection of the 8 double bases and 12 cellos sent from the orchestra the day prior. “I imagined the orchestra pieces might be wanted to complete first.”

Tearily you looked up at him smiling in his lean forward to give you a hug, “Thank you.”

“I know you just want to be productive, the boys helped me sneak these back, well, not much to sneaking, they are huge, but tagged and organized for you. Bilbo said the Violas come in a few days.”

And that was how your little bed rest rebellion began. Resting in your chair the 2 hours and 40 minutes for the bases went by smoothly. Followed by the first half of the cellos for 2 hours until your brunch came in to by followed by finishing off the cellos that were, via text to Bilbo, moved over in the system and to be taken back to the shop to notify the orchestra in a few days to not spoil the surprise. As if they had already been done and simply gotten shuffled down on the call to pick up list traded for the violas in their drop off. As it went the day of rebellion was followed by two mainly sleeping for the ease of the Healers and Durins only for you to wake to the first six of the 12 violas sent in at a time. Two hours was all it took and to avoid another slump like that again you spaced them out through the day before and after meals to grant you a shower and nap to be rested for supper with Thorin.

The Emperor was pleased to say the least that you were restless and somewhat calm, that your fighting spirit hadn’t taken an injury and sorrow or a deep depression had crept in to keep you wishing to stay in bed forever and never leave these palace walls again. Desserts were group affairs with breakfasts on occasion when you were up to be held together, each adding another tick mark to proof that you would be back to normal soon enough.

Tonight however with the shipment of Athelas plants from Gondor he had sent for the Emperor sat up next to you having helped you lay out on your side. With shirt tucked up revealing the painful black bruise of the handle surrounded by a sea or deep indigo bruises from your side branching onto your back matching those on your legs. Soft and tenderly his voice ebbed and flowed from wall to wall in the squeeze of his fingers around the wet cloth draining the excess warm water mingled with the essence of the ground Athelas blooms causing it to begin to glow. Barely touching the skin over your bruise his hand paused at the clench of your side feeling the heat already of the cloth and hand close to touching the painful spot. A healing bath was set to be drawn for you later today but this bruise and fractures had to be seen to first to ease your discomfort before you could soak in a hot bath preventing risks of losing your breath in the tub from the heat.

Down his hand moved to fold around the bruise as kindly as possible for the slow and steady smooth of the cloth down your ribs to spread the healing ointment. Faintly to his song your skin began to glow and between each stroke of the cloth he would remove it to drench it again to coat your skin some more. Every one showing signs that the bruises were lightening, with eyes shut you controlled your breath to grow accustomed to the uncomfortable feeling of the fractured ribs underneath his palm beginning to seal whole again from the painful crack outwards. The sight from the foot of the bed had Thorin’s hand smoothing comfortingly over your ankle and lower leg eyeing each inch of the astonishing bruise covering your torso. Curiously the boys had asked to watch the process and having heard your bruises would heal as well were glad to get your approval for their filming the process.

Black to Indigo the ribs began to give way to a tolerable purple growing fainter to an olive shade where he would guide your body onto your belly. Up to your shoulders the back of your shirt was eased up revealing the back of your front clasped razorback bra in a stand out nude shade he worked around guiding those indigo bruises around the small bandages he uncovered to smooth the ointment over. Those remaining scabs moistened soaking it all in to heal by morning adding to the stunning process relaxing those watching even more at the growing ease you found to move and breathe again.

Down into the now empty bowl the cloth was settled. And over your back the shirt was eased again for his guiding you to sit up cross legged for a series of easy stretches to test your limberness regained again widening your grin knowing that surely after the bath you’d be mostly back to normal after another day of continuing to rest as much as possible. The return to health was much anticipated though glad for more days of cuddles Thorin stayed close. In private as the boys went to watch and edit the footage down to update the people again who had caught sight of one of your bruises before on your leg when a massage was being given to it in a try to help speed it along. The comments almost all focused on how long it might take to have those indigo bruises to heal on your Hobbity self with others of Hobbit lineage sharing their own long battles with bruises.

The videos surely were seen by your clan, who had called Winge and calmed at the delivery on its way to aid in those lingering wounds paining them greatly. Again and again the footage of the attack was viewed by them watching their brave strong lost heir defeating a formidable foe and foiling the anticipated death toll tipped entirely onto the Avari. Aching to have this week over with wishing to have you greet them in this new kingdom you’d yet to travel to that they could show you all of the secrets they had learned in their stay. They could have come to visit but still clung to the fact they did not wish to overstep as if they had been there in your pained moments they would not have left your side until you were back to yourself again while sharing all you had missed and they had been compiling on personal lists for the decades of your absence sure to spill out of them. But it was just another week until you would arrive, having assured them in your video call times at the back end of Winge’s daily updates that you were still coming on time so they didn’t have to change the Feast of Starlight plans.

Two sock bunnies sat on your table along the wall while tucked in bed with Thorin on top of the covers beside you watched a film. One baby blue with white spots and a white t shirt complete with blue button paired with an identical bunny in grey and white. Much like for you in the past his speech shot right out of his mind and even sore still a tight hug on your part was met by his gentle embrace pleased to have received your adoration on his skills. One loving dinner had been prepared by him and all night he remained close to you with just a break to change to his flannels and return again to stretch out with you enjoying the film he’d chosen, smiling brightly all the while at your place nestled half against his chest using his shoulder as your pillow. In the morning he’d be off to another final wedding being held out in one of the Southern Dwarf Kingdoms that would keep him away a few days. You wouldn’t be sitting around moping, not with classes beginning this week to sit for and instruments to pretend you weren’t fixing.

“I’m telling you Amad I don’t know!” Kili huffed out plopping into a chair bedside his brother’s after having been standing so long to show off his mark dots on the shape of a clover on his wrist now in a darker shade of light gold hinting he’d touched his One.

Dis huffed as Vili said, “Well there has to be a hint on how many people you whacked your wrist into while Smaug was terrorizing the school.”

Kili blurted out, “Well what about Fili?! His mark is on his collarbone they’d have had to go under his shirt why isn’t he getting this grilling when he should no doubt know who touched him underneath his clothes! All I know is we were at the game and our marks lit up, so it’s someone that went to the game!”

Dis said, “No deflecting, we are working youngest to eldest. Now from the first sign Smaug was being let loose who did you come into contact with? As best you can remember. There are two clans to research and contact to begin courtship talks.”

Kili sighed and wet his lips looking at his wrist himself trying to remember. “We just came out of the orchestra session and we were in the breezeway, we saw the team, then dagger was thrown. Smaug came out and we grabbed,”

His eyes went wide as Fili’s did realizing who it might be, both groaning out rubbing their hands over their faces, “Mal.”

Dis looked them over asking, “Ok yes she is on the list we took note of on the security footage there is of this. Why the groan?”

Kili lowered his hands to say, “I grabbed her arm and Fi kept her head between us, when we went to the water I had to help him get her to let go of his shirt.”

Vili, “Ok, good candidate then, why the groan do you not like her?”

They both said, “You don’t date your friend’s friends! Bro Code! She’s Jaqi’s only friend outside the clan!”

Kili shook his head, “Can’t be her,” crossing his arms over his chest.

Fili did the same, “She’d never talk to us again.” His folded arms shifting his shirt to show the side of the pale blue jellyfish shaped dots of his mark once more of an off white than a legible shade of blue at all.

The parents relented and let the boys go with word given to Dwalin through his friendship with Bilbo to ask what clan she belonged to on her Dwarf side. A task leaving them less than satisfied as he said he paid no one to that ‘jumble of nonsense’ her father hailed from and had even himself broken free of to choose the more respectable Baggins clan and name for his own to get a fresh start from the life he rarely spoke of beyond a muttered curse. Leaving just one person to ask for any clue without approaching the young Dwobbit herself.

Pt 23

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455, @xxbyimm

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

#thorin x oc #Bedrest #Decorating app #Busy Work #Repair Jobs #Emperor Winge #King Thror x Queen Niro #Dis x Vili #Fili #Kili #OC Mal #Who's the Mate?#Modern AU #the Hobbit

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analogicisms · 4 years

Text

Music & Poetry - Chapter One

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter One

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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Chapter One

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in two minutes. He was standing outside of the main hall of the university where he would be speaking on that day. Due to his need for extensive planning, however, he was nearly two hours early for when he was required to be there.

He considered checking in with the dean of the school but knew that many people felt inconvenienced by those who arrived more than an hour early. Typically, Logan didn’t care too much about inconveniencing others with early arrivals, but Thomas Sanders, the dean of the school, was not just some man who had invited him to speak at this year’s graduation. Thomas was also a very dear friend of his, and Logan would hate to add any undue anxiety onto the man’s already burdened shoulders.

Sighing again, Logan considered the time once more before opening Google Maps and searching for nearby cafes.

Of course, Logan thought as his eyes took in the ten plus pins indicating Starbucks Coffee shops in the area. It was not that Logan was a coffee snob, though his best friend Roman would disagree, he was simply a man who knew what he liked, and Starbucks was awful in terms of taste compared to value. In his opinion, of course—although anyone who disagreed was an idiot.

Scrolling down to the list, his gaze was caught by the third listing. The Bumble Bean. Logan hummed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the pun. It was, after all, better than the alternative.

He noted the letter corresponded with the shop before consulting the map. Clicking on the name of the cafe, it popped up on the map and Logan clicked its little pin. The shop’s information appeared in a little bubble, including the business hours and, more importantly, the distance from his current location.

A block and a half away. Not bad for a walk, especially considering the suit he wore. Decision made, Logan set down his messenger bag long enough to pull off the suit jacket. Lifting his bag from the ground, he draped his jacket over the bag and shouldered the strap once more.

A quick click of the directions link on Google Maps and he was on his way.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

💀 VIRGIL 💀

Virgil leaned back in the leather armchair he occupied, covering a yawn with his arm.

“Don’t start with that now, ViVi.”

Virgil grinned as he looked up at the barista who also happened to be his best friend.

“Sorry, Pat.”

Patton Hart was five foot four inches of adorable from the top of his curls to his white chucks with rainbow cat faces printed on the material. He also had the endearing habit of worrying for his friends. Especially Virgil.

“Late night again?” Patton asked, brows furrowing in concern behind oversized glasses with gold round frames. Virgil nodded. “Sleep is important, kiddo.”

Anyone who overheard the conversation would likely wonder why Patton—who easily looked younger than Virgil, though they were actually the same age—was calling him kiddo, but Virgil had come to accept that as just Patton being Patton. He was definitely a mom and dad friend.

Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He brought a hand to his eyes, closing them to rub at the lids before offering Patton a winning smile. “These lyrics won’t write themselves.”

Patton pursed his lips as he set Virgil’s black coffee down on a coaster. Once he’d straightened up, hands were fisted and rested on hips. Virgil tried his best to hold back a grin, but the other looked too adorable like that and so he failed. Miserably.

“It’s not funny, Virgil. One of these days, you’re gonna wish you’d listened to dear ol’ Patton.��

“And when that day comes, I will gladly accept your ‘I told you so’. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl and my brain works best in the dead of night.”

Patton tutted but said nothing else on the matter. “Don’t forget, its drinks night tonight. Emile will be late but I should be able to close up a little early so I’ll be there at ten.”

Virgil nodded. “Alright. Honestly, though, I don’t know why I even go. Ever since you two started dating, I feel like such a third wheel. Are you sure you two just don’t want the time to yourself? You and I could always catch up later.”

“Nonsense. Emile is as much your friend as he is mine, boyfriend or not. And, I don’t want to hear another word about it, mister.”

Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, mom.”

“Good. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He glanced up at the front and gave a start. “Oops, gotta get back to work. I’ll try to chat when the rush ends.”

Virgil waved him off. “Sure thing, buddy. Talk to you later.”

Watching Patton make his way behind the counter, Virgil let his gaze wander to take in the other patrons of the little cafe. A smile slipped onto his lips as he remembered the day three years ago when Patton rushed up to him before blurting out his idea for a bookstore coffee house. Virgil had never seen his best friend so excited about anything in his life, which was saying a lot considering Patton’s default setting was excited.

It had taken a lot of work and Virgil had put a lot of money into the place—an investment, he had told Patton when the other tried to refuse—but the struggle had paid off in the end. The Bumble Bean had quickly become one of the hot spots in town, especially for students at the local university and high schools. Virgil was proud of his friend and never missed a chance to tell him, either.

The gentle, light sound of the bell on the door sounded and Virgil idly glanced in that direction.

Oh. My. God.

A man who looked not much older than Virgil--but dressed in way nicer clothes than Virgil had ever owned--stepped inside and looked around before heading toward the counter. Virgil watched him as he made his way across the café, his eyes taking in the man's face as his own heated up considerably.

Gay panic is real.

Virgil quickly looked away, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Unfortunately, due to his preoccupied brain, he had forgotten that coffee was generally very hot, and burned his tongue.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, tongue now numb and raw. Setting the cup down, Virgil glanced at the man from the corner of his eye.

I’m gay. I am so fucking gay.

Virgil watched as the man stepped up to the counter after the last customer finished paying. He found himself wondering what kind of drink the man would order, mentally reminding himself to ask Patton later. Watching Patton help the man, Virgil guessed at what kind of job the man had.

A businessman… then again, those pants are fitted as fuck… lawyer, maybe? Or CEO of some Fortune 500…

Pursing his lips, Virgil shook his head. The man didn’t look like a slimy, two-timing, grubby-handed snake. It was possible he was dressed for a specific event. The suit aside, Virgil would guess a professor, or a scientist even. There was no way he would be able to guess correctly, he decided. No point trying.

Turning his attention to his coffee, Virgil was momentarily distracted by the sound of feedback coming from the front. A stage was set up on the opposite side of the entrance, a young guy around Virgil’s age if not younger moving the stool closer to the microphone already present. There was a guitar in his other hand and a smile slipped onto Virgil’s face.

Virgil Quinn was a college student at the local university but he was also a well-known lyricist. Well, well-known was a little generous considering most people weren’t really interested in lyricists so much as the band or artist themselves. Most lyricists were annoyed by that fact but not Virgil. He liked being famous without actually being famous.

Unlike the bands that sang his songs, Virgil could go where he liked, when he liked, with no concern for his safety or his privacy. Even on the rare occasion, a fan did care about the person who wrote the songs, his work was still appreciated and loved from afar. His pictures weren’t the ones being plastered online, on busses, on television ads, and so on. He had more Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube followers than the average person and he was relatively “known”, but definitely not enough that it made much difference to his daily life.

That was exactly how Virgil preferred it.

“Do you mind?”

Virgil’s attention had been successfully distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone come up.

“Mind?” Virgil’s indifferent attitude quickly turned shy and awkward as he turned to look at the person who asked the question. The gorgeous Mr. Maybe-A-Scientist.

“I’d like to claim that chair over there but I’ll need to get past you to get there. If you don’t mind.”

Virgil seized up before mentally reminding himself that this was just another guy. Another human being. He could play it cool.

Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush.

Virgil glanced at the chair before looking back up at the man. He cleared his throat and stood up.

In the brief few seconds that past between them as Virgil stood so he could shift out of the man’s way, Virgil became certain of a handful of things.

First, the man with his dark gray, nearly black eyes could not be a CEO or lawyer. While his eyes held a certain level of cold, there was far too much feeling in them. Too much depth. Second, the man was at least a head shorter than him but there was no way Virgil would have known if he hadn’t stood up. The confidence the man held about him was absolutely admirable. Virgil would have been worried the man was arrogant or, worse, a narcissist but he seemed far too polite and formal. Instead of self-importance, it was an air of near indifference that radiated from him.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. No sweat.”

Virgil could have mentally kicked himself. No sweat? Seriously? This man was obviously a man that existed off of intellectual knowledge and discourse. The best he could come up with was no sweat?

Virgil watched the other’s face, certain to see some sort of sign of dismissal but it never came. Instead, the man raised a brow and a second later, his lips quirked upwards. It was slight. So slight that Virgil wasn’t even certain he truly saw it. That was until the man spoke again.

“I still need to get by you, I’m afraid.”

Was that amusement Virgil heard laced ever so subtly throughout the carefully chosen words? Virgil glanced at where he stood and swore under his breath. He was an absolute idiot. One thing was certain, however, as Virgil finally moved out of the other’s way. There was a definite spark of amusement in the man’s eyes and voice when he glanced back to thank him, before moving on to the armchair just on the other side of the coffee table.

Virgil blushed, quickly sitting once more and trying his best to melt into the couch. Not possible, of course, but he had to give himself props for trying. Deciding he had done enough damage to their interaction, Virgil turned his attention back to the stage where the young man with the guitar was now engaging the patrons sat around the stage.

As the singer started playing and fading into his song, Virgil almost forgot about Mr. Sexy Scientist. No, who was he kidding. There was no way he could actually forget about him. Not with him being so damn attractive. Not with him being so damn close. But, his focus was preoccupied just enough to take his mind off the man, if only for the moment.

That was, until a sound escaped the man, pulling Virgil’s attention back to him once more. Why is he so good looking? Life hated him. That was all there was to it. Putting such a gorgeous, put together man at arms reach only for Virgil to not have any chance in hell with him. The sound that left the man, however, had Virgil’s curiosity piqued. It was definitely a scoff that he had heard come from the well dressed man.

“Not a fan of this kind of music?” Virgil asked, before he could think better of it. He took note that the other had pulled out a book and was presumably reading it. He didn’t even look up at Virgil when answered his question.

“Not a fan of music, actually.”

Virgil raised a brow. There was no way he had heard correctly. “Sorry, what now?”

The man looked up this time, a wry sort of expression on his face. It was the look of someone who had had this conversation on more than one occasion and didn’t find it any more enjoyable than he had the first time. Virgil felt bad, but only a little. He was more curious and so offered an apologetic shrug, but continued to look at the man expectantly.

The man sighed, marking the page he had been reading with a finger and set the book in his lap. His eyes found Virgil’s and it was all he could do to not look away. Swallowing hard, Virgil waited to hear what the man was about to say.

“I’m just not a fan of any type of music. It’s just… not my thing. I guess, classical counts as music and I do enjoy that when I am writing but in the general view of what is music these days, I really can’t say any of it has my appreciation.”

Virgil frowned. How sad to not like any music. The man looked ready to return to his book but Virgil found himself not wanting the conversation to end just yet. Grasping for something to talk about, he took note of what the man had said.

“Writing?”

The man nodded. He continued to watch Virgil but was obviously not about to offer any further information without being prompted.

Just my luck. The most gorgeous man walks into my life and unwittingly challenges all my anxieties.

“What do you write?”

Maybe he was an author?

“I’m a poet.” Suddenly a hand was offered to him from across the coffee table. Virgil took it at the last minute, shaking it and trying hard not to focus on the fact that they were technically holding hands. Too soon, the man pulled his hand back. “Logan Wright. I don’t expect you’ve heard of me but you’ve most likely come across a few of my poems. They’ve been used in various media.”

Virgil could only nod, unsure of what to say. A poet! Not only that but a poet who doesn't like music. As a lyricist, Virgil was of the belief that lyrics were poetry put to notes in order to make a song—to make music.

The man went back to his book and Virgil watched him for a few moments before letting his attention return to the performer. The guy was not the best singer ever but played the guitar like a boss. Still, Virgil could hear the potential and knew well that this man could have a musical career hands down as long as he kept at it. The biggest draw to a singer like this one was that the words could be felt with his voice. That was a quality that so many singers didn’t have but the very quality that proved Virgil’s belief.

He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew well that the likelihood of him ever seeing this man—Logan—again was slim to none. Yet, he couldn’t keep his attention from returning to the man. Every few glances, he would see the other wince or grimace. Virgil wanted to feel offended on the singer’s behalf but instead, he just felt pity for Logan.

The time soon came when Logan stood and asked by him once again. This time Virgil was quick to stand and smiled shyly.

“Hope you have a good day.”

Wow, could I be any more lame?

The man smiled, however, and nodded. “Likewise.”

Virgil then watched him as he headed out of the shop and back into the world.

A few seconds passed, Virgil wishing he had asked for his number or something. Not only that, but the knowledge that the man was missing out on something that was inspiration for millions of people… that just didn’t sit right with him. If only he could spend a few days with Logan… show him what he was missing out on. Prove to him that not all music was bad and so much of it told a story.

Fuck.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil rushed through the shop and out the door. He glanced in the direction the man had gone, his eyes falling on his retreating back.

“Logan!” he called out. The man stopped and turned, tilting his head in a cute manner. Virgil didn’t focus on that, instead starting toward him as the man started back, distance closing between them.

“Can I help you?”

Virgil blushed, suddenly unsure of himself. Was what he was about to propose stupid? Whatever. He would never know until he tried.

“Give me a week.”

Logan snorted. “I’m sorry, give you what?”

Virgil blushed and rushed on. “I mean… in there. What you said about music? Give me a week to prove you wrong.”

Logan blinked and slowly smirked. “And what makes you think I’ll even be here a week?”

That stopped Virgil in his tracks. It never even occurred to him that the man was out of town. He felt himself frowning and was about to apologize when the man spoke up again.

“I mean, I will be, as it turns out, but it is intriguing for you to just assume so. Still, your proposal has me curious. I don’t know exactly how you plan to change my mind, but I do like experiments as much as the next scholar. I do have somewhere to be at the present, but if you give me your number, I will text you.”

In the next moments, Virgil gave Logan his number and watched as he walked away. He had no idea how he had managed it, but now that was the least of his worries.

Virgil now had just under seven days to change the mind of a very hot, intelligent, and opinionated poet.

To say he had his work cut out for him was definitely an understatement.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer: The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.

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mnthpprt · 4 years

Text

Chapter 49: Desperate Measures

[Sorry for the short chapter. My computer is broken and I can’t afford to get it fixed anytime soon, so I have been writing on my phone instead. In addition, life has gotten pretty busy lately and it will probably stay that way. I will still update whenever I can.]

Our laughter dies down when I hear a noise coming from the hallway. As usual, Arthur has managed to turn an awkward conversation into an opportunity to make my sides hurt. He truly has a talent for finding the humor in every situation.

“Was that a knock?” I pant.

He simply shrugs, so I approach the door to open it. On the other side stands Sebastian, his fist up, ready to knock again. I immediately throw my arms around him, jumping on my toes to be able to reach his broad shoulders, but soon become overwhelmed by his scent.

“Nope, bad idea,” I say, pulling away. He tilts his head as he lets go. “Human,” I point at him, and then at myself, “hungry leech. You smell delicious, no offence.”

“None taken,” Sebastian smiles. “We can catch up later, le Comte wants to see you,” he informs me before moving out of the way. I nod and hurry out, followed by Arthur. “He’s in his study.”

We part ways in the hallway, the two men leaving together in the opposite direction. I arrive to find le Comte’s door wide open. I lean on the frame and knock to catch his attention.

“Bonjour” I playfully greet him, making him look up from a book.

“Welcome back, ma chérie,” he says, standing up.

After we exchange two kisses on the cheek, he gestures toward the fireplace. I have been here enough times to know he wants me to sit, so make myself confortable on one of the armchairs as he does the same, across from me.

“So... I know you lied about how the door works.” Le Comte looks worried for a second, but quickly regains composure. “Don’t worry, I get why you did it. I met a friend of yours,” I begin before extending my arm over my head. “About this much taller than me, red eyes, white hair?”

“Vlad is here? I had my suspicions, but I did not think he would have the nerve to show up in Paris,” he muses. “I take it you know about his plans, then.”

“Mhm. Did you know William is working for him?”

“No, I had no idea. I might have to have a word with him,” he adds sternly. “How did you find out?”

“The ball. He had introduced me to Salieri before, and seemed pretty amused by his misunderstanding,” I answer. “At the time I didn’t know who he was, but Antonio was convinced that Mozart and I were a couple. William just added wood to the fire.”

“I don’t understand, ma chérie. You still decided to go live with him?” he asks, confused.

“It started with me not wanting any of you to see me in that state... you know, practically feral, and all. And then I thought I could make something useful our of this little vacation,” I explain. “So I’ve been keeping an eye on him, seeing what I could find out. Which leads me to Vlad. I was introduced to him just a couple hours ago and found out about his plans to conquer the world or whatever. He was... charming,” I conclude sarcastically, rubbing my neck. Though the hand shaped marks have mostly faded, it is still sore from his strong grip.

In a manner completely uncharacteristic of him, le Comte pries my hand away, revealing the faint, finger shaped bruises on my neck. His face contorts into a mask of pure rage, his eyes growing darker, as he abruptly stands up and begins marching towards the door. Luckily, I manage to shoot up and catch the hem of his jacket as he walks past me.

“Sit the fuck down,” I order, pulling on his clothes. He glances at me, still looking furious, and I grab his arm and push him backwards onto his seat. “I am not done here.”

“Forgive me, Anaïs,” he mutters before taking a deep breath. That seems to calm him. “I could hardly contain myself when I saw you have been hurt.”

“It’s nothing, but thank you for caring,” I wave away his concern with a smile. “Anyway, he built his own door and traveled to the future, which horrified him so much he has now decided that humanity doesn’t stand a chance without vampire rule. But you probably already knew this.” le Comte nods slowly. “The point is, I figured out when exactly he traveled to. He ended up in the middle of World War Two. No wonder he’s traumatized,” I chuckle.

“That explains a lot,” he says. “We have been friends for a very long time, Vlad and I. I’d say around a millennium, even. A couple centuries ago, he disappeared. When I met him again, he was... strange. He had changed,” he narrates. “He told me he had built his own door, and that it did not work properly. He also mentioned seeing the future. I believe that is when he started turning new vampires to achieve his goal.” The nostalgia in le Comte’s voice shifts to something akin to regret. “I tried to talk him out of it, to no avail, and we had a falling out. That was the last time I saw him.”

“We both know more about the future now, so maybe talking him out of it is still an option,” I chime in. “When he described his experience, I told him I was born long after that. I explained how much better things are in my time, and why his plan would never work, but he didn’t believe me. Comte, do you think he would keep his word, even after what he went through?” I suddenly ask.

“Vlad is many things, but he is not a liar,” he sombrely assures me. “I trust that aspect of him has not changed.”

“Good,” I smirk.

“What do you have in mind, ma chérie?” he inquires when I get up and make my way around his desk. On a loose leaf of paper, I quickly scribble a note, which I hand to le Comte. “I want to offer you a deal. Allow me to prove you wrong. Meet me Sunday at 9 in your shop to negotiate the terms,” he reads out loud. “Shop? What shop?”

“He sells flowers in town. I don’t have the address but William probably knows where it is.”

“Does he also know what he is helping Vlad do?” he asks. I shake my head.

“I don’t think so. You know how much of a shit stirrer he is, I’m willing to bet he’s just in it for the drama,” I state, rolling my eyes. “I have gotten to know him better over the past week, and I sincerely doubt he would be okay with what Vlad is planning. As far as I can tell, he just knows about the vampires he has recruited. Speaking of-” I remember, “he has two trusted minions. Faust the alchemist-slash-crazy scientist, and Charles. I have no idea who the latter is, just that he is French.”

“Interesting...” he mutters. “Tell me about this deal.”

“I was thinking of showing him the future. Grant him access to your door, and in exchange he has to stop his pursuit for power. What do you think?”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, le Comte shifts in his armchair. He leans forward, caressing his chin as if he had a beard.

“It is risky...” he quietly says. “Are you sure you can convince him?”

“I can and I will. Whatever it takes.”

Le Comte nods slowly, pondering my proposal. He stares at me, brows furrowed in concentration, as I suddenly feel as if his piercing golden eyes could read my mind. I return the gaze with as much confidence as I can reflect back to him. Unless he has a better idea, this is our only chance, and I intend to make it work no matter what.

“In that case...” he finally says, leaning back, “I shall aid you as best as I can and provide anything you need, ma chérie. However, I am not sure about letting him into the mansion. I need some time to think about how that would work.”

“Thank you Comte, I understand. Oh, one more thing,” I quickly add. “Do not tell anyone about this, especially William. If Vlad suspects anything he will kill me.”

“Then why did you tell me about his involvement?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. I shrug.

“You have a right to know,” I simply state, standing up. “Besides, you’re a good liar. Just keep that up and we’re all set, I’ll handle the- Rouge. I need rouge.”

Distracted by the sudden pang of hunger, I shuffle away, mumbling to myself as I count the time that has passed with my fingers. Roughly three and a half hours before I even felt anything, and I have not gone mad yet. That is a personal best.

I stroll into the kitchen sporting a proud grin. I reach over Sebastian’s shoulder for a bottle of rouge, leaning heavily on his back. He turns around, surprised, but I shush him before he can say anything and proceed to down the entire bottle in one go.

Once I am sure there is nothing left, I put it down on the counter with a deep breath before holding onto Sebastian’s shoulder once again. This time, I propel myself up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you miss me?” I ask coyly.

“How could I not?” he laughs. “Although the flowers probably miss you a lot more, I��ve been too busy to take proper care of the garden.”

“Oh, Seb, I am so sorry about that...” My apology is genuine, accompanied by a gentle squeeze on his arm. “Sorry I left so suddenly. Should have at least warned you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles. “You’re here now. I saw you packing before, do you need help carrying all that?”

“I can ask someone else. I’m sure you’re busy enough without me helping out.”

“I am not too busy to listen. What is it like?” he suddenly asks, pulling a stool from under the kitchen isle.

“What?”

“Living with Shakespeare! I want to know everything.”

“Oh,” I laugh.

I sit on the counter, letting my legs dangle beside him as he looks up at me, his brown eyes impatient and full of wonder, almost like a child waiting for a bedtime story.

“Well, he wakes up super early, which as you know I am not very good at,” I humor him. “We spend most days in rehearsal with his troupe. They’re pretty cool. Uh... I’ve also been caring for his little vegetable patch that he keeps in the garden to feed the-”

“Puck, yes?” he interrupts me, making me look down.

“Seriously?” I snort. “You’re taking notes? Man, and I thought William was creepy.” I nudge Sebastian with my foot as I tease him. My voice drops to a whisper when a thought occurs to me. “Do you keep those on everyone? Oh my God, have you been taking notes about me?”

“No! Of course not,” he exclaims, unconvincingly shaking his head. I stare at him. “Okay, fine, don’t look at me like that! When I said I came here to study historical figures up close, I meant it.”

“Can I see?” I don’t wait for him to answer before I take the notebook from his hands. My eyebrows rise higher with every page of diligently detailed information I flip through. “Aw, you do have one about me. Adorable.”

“How do you think I’ve kept track of your schedule the past month?” he chuckles. “I only started writing that when it became clear you were planning to stay. Too bad I have no use for that cordon bleu recipe now...”

“Whoah, stop right there. You know full well I will travel from the Moon if I have to just to taste those ‘libritos’ again,” I state with as much seriousness as I can muster, which, frankly, isn’t much. A self sufficient smile grows on Sebastian’s lips.

“I know.”

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kevinszabojrplumbing · 2 years

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Just Bought A New House? Here Are Some Helpful Tips

Buying a new house is one of the biggest events in our lives. However, everything does not end with the mere purchase of the house. Moreover, it is the beginning of a long list of actions that you have to take. In the first place, you need to decorate the interior of the house. This means that you have to get rid of the old things and refresh the house. This consists of getting new furniture and finally decorating the home. Once you finish all this, you can call your home a “sweet home” and feel comfortable in it.

To that end, here are some helpful tips on how to turn your new house into the home of your dreams!

Cleaning

Once you step your foot into a newly bought house, the first thing you should opt for is a thorough cleaning. This is important because it would make no sense to completely furnish your home without giving it prior cleaning. In that sense, make sure you first get rid of all the old things in the home. Once you get it empty, you can start cleaning freely. Likewise, you can hire cleaning professionals if you think your home needs a really thorough cleaning. After this part is finished, you can freely start furnishing the rooms in the house!

Living room arrangement

Since we spend most of our time in the living room during the day, it should be the object of most investment. Starting with the basic elements, moving on to furniture placement, and finishing with the smallest living room decoration. To that end, you must buy furniture that is both beautiful and comfy if you want your family and visitors to always feel at ease in your living room.

The quality is crucial, in addition to having a lovely appearance and being comfortable. Quality should always come first if you want your furniture to last as long as possible without experiencing any major or minor issues.

Furniture

Furniture is a crucial element of any house. However, since there is a great variety on the market of different pieces of furniture, it is sometimes difficult to choose the one that suits your home. Nevertheless, you can start by deciding on the style you want your living room or bedroom to have. If, for example, you prefer the French style or anything similar to it, you may find furniture elements, as seen at HomesDirect365, that can suit your preferences. Once you get the right furniture in your new home, you can finally relax and enjoy it, since everything else will be much easier!

Contemporary armchairs and stools

You can also place a variety of other armchairs in the living room, which you will select based on your needs, in addition to the armchairs that come with the sets. There are various sizes and styles available. You can find armchairs that are incredibly compact, aesthetically pleasing, and well suited to their purpose. They can have slimmer seats, more aesthetically pleasing armrests, and thinner backrests.

On the other hand, stools are another piece of furniture that may be quite useful and also enhance the appearance of your living space. They come in a variety of sizes and shapes, the most popular being round and square. They can also be upholstered in any hue, tone, and material, flat or with buttons. Similarly, stools are useful for storing small items that accumulate in the living room and are particularly great for keeping children's toys organized because they can be made with an opening lid!

Colors

Rarely does anybody dare to do a color experiment in their home because it is typically believed that the color pattern should be in neutral hues. However, if you are one of the individuals who disagree with the norm and your apartment is predominantly decorated with white materials (walls, flooring, some furniture, beams, or components), there are countless design options for you.

First of all, you should be aware that the ambiance in a room is influenced by the contrast between lighting and color, and it is up to you to select the hues that are most comfortable for you. For example, it is good to get a red chair in a white environment, or some other yellow element if you want your area to seem warmer and cozier. In any case, the important thing is that you combine the strong colors of the furniture with the neutral colors of the walls. Likewise, you can use the color effects to manipulate perception. For instance, black can make the item appear smaller than it is, making it ideal for compact areas!

With these tips, your home will soon feel just like the one of your dreams. Good luck!

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megalony · 4 years

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She’s a good girl- Part 9

I hope you’re all enjoying the amount of updates I’ve been doing for this murderer! Ben Hardy series, it is quickly one of my favourites to write at the moment. There is a lot of angst and some fluff here for you all, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @onceuponadetectivedemigod @lelifesaver

Series masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) is a good girl from a church-going family and her brother, Joe, is trying to put Ben behind bars. But when (Y/n) starts to fall for the dangerous killer, things get complicated.

Enjoy.

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Leaning her head on her brother's shoulder, (Y/n) tightened her hand around his and wrapped her other hand around his upper arm to secure herself to his side. She was thankful that both their parents and Cora were walking quite a few paces ahead of them as they were all making their way home from sermon. It meant that (Y/n) had a chance to talk to Joe without anyone hearing and no one ever commented on her and Joe whispering to one another because it was a normal occurrence like they were always plotting something together.

"I need your help."

"Why, what's up?" Joe ducked his head down to be closer to (Y/n) so he could hear her better, knowing instantly that she was whispering so that their family didn't overhear.

Talking in whispers like this always made Joe feel like they were little kids again, plotting ways to get back at Cora whenever she did something or when they were planning out their lives and trips they wanted to take together without their annoying sister or overbearing parents.

"I have to tell you all something but I... I need you to keep the peace. They're gonna flip when I tell them."

It was now or never.

(Y/n) knew she had to tell her parents now because if she waited much longer it was going to be very clear and visible. She was four months pregnant and she was starting to show and baggy clothing wasn't going to work forever. There was also the problem of getting married, if she wanted to marry Ben without having much of a noticeable bump it had to happen very soon and they had already been talking about it but that meant her family had to know soon.

It had always been set in stone for (Y/n) that she would marry someone when she was well into her twenties or even later and it would happen in her father's church with him performing the ceremony and all her family there. It was always planned to be something out of a fairy tale, but real life was so much different. (Y/n) already knew it wasn't going to be in a church, it would be hard to find a booking at such short notice and it wouldn't feel right somehow, Ben didn't believe in God so making him stand at the alter in the home of devotion to a God he didn't believe in was cruel.

(Y/n) also knew her father was very unlikely to do the ceremony once he found who Ben was and what he was like so that was another part of her childhood crushed. But deep down (Y/n) didn't want a wedding with all the fuss, just going to a registry office was fine because she was still marrying who she wanted and it was still marriage which revolved around her religion and faith. She also didn't want a big dress or a veil or loads of flowers, she wasn't sure if she even wanted a bouquet.

Something small, plain and simple would do perfect.

"Alright, give five minutes when we get in for everyone to settle and then you can make your announcement." When Joe winked at (Y/n) just as they walked inside, she felt her heart both calming down and juddering in her chest. He had no idea what she was going to say and it would be something he wouldn't see coming for miles.

When they stepped inside, the siblings unchained themselves from each other and took off their shoes and jackets. Joe made his way straight into the living room with Cora whereas Paul headed into the dining room and Linda and (Y/n) both went into the kitchen to get some drinks.

(Y/n) could feel her heart bursting in her chest with every beat and if she were to faint right here, right now, it might be a blessing in disguise. She didn't know how on Earth she was going to do this and she knew all of the reactions she was going to get, none of which were going to be very pretty. But this was her life, this was how it was going to go and her family had to know and accept this or they couldn't be in her life anymore.

She was going to start off small and easy, tell them she was moving out and having a baby because the baby was the bombshell here. Telling them exactly who Ben was and what he did and telling them where she really worked would be an information overload for all of her family and it would be too much for her too. She had to break the news into pieces that were easier to digest.

(Y/n) downed half her glass of water in one gulp as she headed through from the kitchen into the living room with her mother in tow behind her. Her eyes scanned the room for a moment before she sat down on the sofa next to Joe which placed her between him and the armchair on her left in the bay window where she knew her father would sit. (Y/n) didn't want to be next to him. Once she told them her news it was likely he would lash out or shout like he had done when they argued before and she didn't want that.

She wanted to be as far away from him as possible when he found out because she was closer to him and his reaction would cut her to pieces and it would be taken to her heart.

Cora was sitting on the foot stool in front of the fireplace opposite the sofa where she normally sat when everyone was here at home. Leaving the other small armchair near the door for their mother to sit in, everyone had their respected seats that had been the same for years and it was automatic to sit in them, no one would change the routine now.

When their father's footsteps could be heard, (Y/n) could feel her heartbeat pulsing under every inch of skin on her body and it made her feel sick. She'd had no breakfast this morning and only a small glass of juice before going to sermon. From the moment she got up her stomach had been doing somersaults at knowing today was the day she was going to wreck her family into pieces.

This was it, this was it. She had to do this now or never, she had to do this today.

(Y/n) could feel her body coming over in a cold sweat and she had to lean forward a little to stop her chest from hurting due to her deep breaths and her rapid heart. All she wanted was to disappear but the moment she decided she would wait five or ten minutes before making her announcement, Joe steeped in thinking that she needed a little help to get her announcement started.

Her only brother nudged his elbow lightly into her side and ticked his head in a silent signal for her to speak before he motioned his hand to Cora to tell her to quiet down when her chirpy voice was about to go off on one about something no one would really care about.

"Do you want to say something, Joey?" Linda smiled, grazing her fingertips against the glass she was holding in both hands as she watched her eldest when he was trying to politely get everyone to be quiet.

"No, I think (Y/n) has something she wants to say, right?"

Deep down she was thankful Joe had gotten her started or else she knew she wouldn't have bothered trying to get everyone to be quiet, she would have just gone with the topic of conversation and deflated. (Y/n) would have lost her nerve to speak, she knew it.

"Go on honey, what do you want to tell us?" Paul sat in his usual stance, slightly slouched down in the very old armchair with his knees bent to the sides and his hands clasped together in his lap. No matter what he wore, where he was or what he said, he always gave off an aura of calmness and peace. It was clear to anyone that he was something to do with the church, he just looked like someone that you would want to confide in and tell all your sins to. He looked like someone who would have all the answers and be able to give comfort and reassurance.

But (Y/n) knew he was going to give her little comfort and reassurance today.

"I have some news to tell you... but please, just hear me out and try to understand before making a fuss, okay?" (Y/n) wrung her hands together like she was trying to ring the water out of a piece of washing and she almost jumped when Joe rested his hand over hers to try and calm her down.

"Of course, go ahead." Linda leaned forward as if to make sure she could hear (Y/n) properly but (Y/n) knew they weren't really listening. They were going to interrupt and comment and speak over her and get angry because they wouldn't be happy and this was always about them.

"Okay... I'm moving out in a few weeks, I'm going to be moving in with someone."

(Y/n) took a deep breath after speaking carefully and slowly so she didn't rush through her words and make them hard to understand. That was the first part of this over but the next part was going to be much worse. She watched the way her mother's smile completely disappeared and her jaw went slack and she saw how Cora's upper lip curled in distaste. When she looked over at her father as if for a sign of his approval, his jaw was very tightly locked and his hands were white from how hard his knuckles were pushing to the surface.

The only person who looked happy was Joe. He was smiling gently at her with an encouraging look that would disappear in a minute or two. He knew getting away from home and moving out would make (Y/n) feel more independent and it would make her more at ease and grown up. Staying at home was sometimes a good thing but in their case, the sooner they left, the better.

"Moving out? Why, you're not old enough to be on your own- who are you moving with, is it a boy?!" Linda's voice got increasingly higher pitched the more she spoke and the more she seemed to realise what (Y/n) had said.

"Just let her explain." Joe's voice was pleading with their mother to stay quiet but it was like talking to a brick wall.

"I've met someone and I'm going to move in with him because... b-because we're having a baby."

(Y/n) could feel the tears building up behind her eyes before they even fell down her features. She felt how Joe's hand tensed around her own, she heard her mother's glass slip between her fingers and bounce on the carpet at her feet. She heard Cora's shocked gasp and saw the way her features contorted into such an unattractive, angered and annoyed expression that showed she was angry only because she wasn't the first to settle down and have kids and a family of her own.

But when (Y/n) dared to look at her father, she didn't recognise the man sitting beside her anymore. He was looking right through her like he didn't recognise her and that hurt (Y/n) like a knife through her chest.

"No, you're joking. My youngest daughter is not pregnant out of marriage, you are not moving out and you are not having a baby, do you hear me? This is some cruel, sick, twisted joke!"

"Why would I lie?"

(Y/n)'s contradiction left her mother speechless but her expression was far from content. Her eyes were blazing with fire and her lips were snarling like a rabid dog about to attack. (Y/n) could see how this would go down at the church when people found out, there would be whispers about the Reverend's daughter having a quick marriage because she got pregnant at nineteen. Linda would be ashamed, she would be killing those rumours and not accepting the truth or any kind of defeat.

It wouldn't show the best example in the strict religious community that they lived in, especially when Linda was prone to boasting about her three wonderful children. Now she would only be boasting about two of her three children and she might go so far as to act like she only had one daughter instead of two.

"You're not seriously doing this? You're really gonna have a baby at nineteen when you're not even married? That won't make you look very good."

There was something in the way that Cora spoke that made (Y/n) feel like her sister was trying to guide her. Like she was trying to quietly tell (Y/n) that not having the baby would be best for her reputation and her life, as if (Y/n) had no right being a mother because it didn't fit in with their family's plans for her.

"You could always get rid of it-"

"Cora for fuck's sake shut up!"

"What? It's not the worst idea in the world, is it? Joe how is she gonna be a mother, she can hardly tie her own shoes." Cora waved her hand in (Y/n)'s direction but her eyes were focused on Joe just waiting for him to contradict her as if her words were true. But she didn't know her sister, she knew nothing of (Y/n)'s life for the past year, she didn't know how (Y/n) had changed or how she had met someone and had gotten so good at lying to them all.

"Cora that is enough. She cannot have an abortion, she may have gone against her own faith by having a child out of wedlock but I will not have my own daughter commit such a sin as murder."

Paul leaned his head onto his hand that smothered his mouth like he was trying to stop himself from saying anything worse, it clearly hurt him to talk about (Y/n) like she wasn't even there but he couldn't find it in himself to address or even look at her.

Abortion was a sin to him and to (Y/n), it was as high up as murder and (Y/n) had no quarrels with other women having abortions, she could understand their reasons. But personally, for her, it would feel too much of a sin and too much pain for her to actually do that. She didn't have the will, the heart or the lack of faith to get rid of her own child. (Y/n) would have no redemption from God if she did that.

"Well you can't keep it, you know that, don't you?" Linda's voice caused all eyes to look at her but only Joe and (Y/n) had horror and confusion in their eyes. "There is no way you can be an unmarried mother, abortion is not an option and neither is an unmarried nineteen year old mother."

"He proposed." (Y/n)'s eyes looked nowhere but at her father this time when she spoke up, controlling her voice enough to make sure it was stern and forceful rather than weak and broken.

"Excuse me?"

"He asked me to marry him and I said yes, so neither of you have any reason to worry about your daughter committing such a sin as having a baby out of wedlock. You'll just have to deal with the shame of people knowing the baby was conceived before the marriage."

(Y/n) looked down at her hands as she took a deep breath before removing the engagement ring from her right index finger and slipping it onto her wedding finger to show them all she was serious. Everyone was going to know that she was getting married because of the baby and it would be assumed that Paul was the reasoning behind the marriage. He would have to deal with the looks and the shame from their community when people found out (Y/n) was pregnant when she got married which was almost a sin in itself.

She was having this baby and she was going to be a mother, no one was going to stop her. When she was married to Ben she would be under no one's control but her own, her mother couldn't force her to give up her baby and she couldn't control her in where she went, what she did and who she saw.

The strings that held her control over (Y/n)'s life would be cut forever.

"Can we all just calm down now please? I moved out when I was eighteen to go to uni, Cora has a boyfriend and that's fine, I live with my girlfriend and we're not married. (Y/n) is miles ahead of us by wanting to get married and have a baby, why is that so wrong of her? This is what she wants, she isn't asking for your permission or to help 'make this go away'. Can't you be a tiny bit easier and happy for her?"

Joe didn't know how much good or even bad his words were going to do but he couldn't just sit and let them try and control (Y/n)'s life and act like she had come to them with a problem she needed them to solve.

She wasn't asking them to marry her off or tell her she couldn't marry her boyfriend and she wasn't asking them for solutions about the baby. (Y/n) had this planned out without them, she was only telling them because they were her family, they couldn't keep controlling and overruling her like this.

"You two leave us, we need to talk to (Y/n) on our own. Go." Paul waved his hand at Cora and Joe, pointing to the door because Joe was going to stand up for (Y/n) and Cora was going to intervene and get in the way. They needed to talk, just the three of them.

When (Y/n) nodded that she would be okay, Joe squeezed her hand and kissed the top of her head, whispering a small 'congratulations' in her ear before he left the room with Cora in tow behind him. Once the door was closed behind them, (Y/n) let her eyes drift between her parents who were people she no longer recognised.

Her mother was red in the face with one hand pressed to her forehead and the other gripping the arm of the chair like she thought she was going to lose touch with the world at any second. But Paul was no longer slouching or smothering his face with his hands, he was up and standing on his feet, leaning against the mantle piece above the fireplace in such a manner that he made (Y/n) worried. He looked like he was going to change into the Devil right there in front of her and unleash a new sense of Hell onto her for what she had done.

"Are you sure this boy isn't using you, how old even is he? That internship of yours surely can't support you and this baby so he needs to step up and what if he marries you and then leaves you? Have you thought any of this through you stupid girl!"

Linda smacked her hand down on the arm of the chair to show just how angry she was but it was clear she thought (Y/n) had just been fooling around with a boy of her age who had no sense at all and was only doing what he thought was right.

"He isn't using me, why would be propose if he was only going to dump me? He's twenty-seven, he has his own business he knows what he's doing and so do I."

"Twenty-seven? Oh I'm sure he knows what he's doing love. A grown man got you pregnant and you really think this man loves you? You're even more foolish than I thought getting into bed with someone like that and ending up in this mess." Linda shook her head with a look that was almost a cynical, unbelievable smile. In her mind she could see Ben as a grown man who preyed on (Y/n), having his own business just made her think that he knew what he was doing and it seemed unlikely that he would go through with marrying her. It felt like he was telling (Y/n) what she wanted to hear but Linda didn't know Ben.

It would be worse if she knew Ben, but at least then she would know he was genuine.

"Don't think God will give you redemption for this (Y/n). All this time I thought you had faith but you don't, you've cast away your faith for the first man that came along. This is your punishment and nothing will wash away the sins you have."

Paul pointed his finger at (Y/n) as he spat his words like he was convicting her and giving her a sentence for a crime when she hadn't done anything wrong. God wasn't so cruel or strict, there were thousands of people who had sex before marriage who didn't have any repercussions or sins because it wasn't a sin. There were people who got pregnant without getting or being married and nothing bad happened to them, they didn't get a multitude of sins for it.

(Y/n) was no different, she had no sins for having sex with Ben and when she married him she would have no sins because the baby would be born from marriage. Even if they got married a day before the baby was born it would still count and that was all (Y/n) cared about.

"God isn't punishing me, can't you see that? He's punishing you. You brought me up, you made me into your protege and you controlled me when you shouldn't have. I'm not being punished because I am happy about this, he's finally making my life my own and that is your punishment."

(Y/n) stood to her feet a bit too quickly from how badly her heart was racing in her chest and it made her feel sick but she tried her best to push away the feeling before it overwhelmed her. She was finally doing this, she was standing up to her parents and telling them that her life was her own and she wanted it to go this way. She loved Ben with everything she had and she wanted to marry him and they both wanted and already loved this baby.

Her parents no longer had any control over her and they couldn't stop her form being happy and being loved.

Her words seemed to ignite something horrible in her father and she may have stepped over the line a little but she couldn't help the way she felt and how her words felt true to her. When he comprehended what she had just told him, his head turned in her direction until he was sneering at her in such a way (Y/n) was afraid of him for the first time in her life.

Never before had she been so afraid of her father, the man who was everyone's friend and confidant. The man who people talked to about their problems and seemed so loving and had such a loving wife and family. He was the family man that everyone wanted to be, no one would believe he would ever look at (Y/n) in this way when she was his little angel.

A gap escaped (Y/n)'s lips when her father's hand suddenly tangled into her hair and he pulled harshly on the roots until (Y/n) was forced to bend backwards and let her knees cave in slightly so she could stay upright. Her fearful eyes watched as he hovered over her like a murderer and in that moment, (Y/n) would have believed it was her father who had committed all of those killings instead of Ben.

Ben had never been like this with her before.

"Paul now don't-" Linda's words came upon deaf ears when both (Y/n) and her father's eyes and ears were trained on each other.

"I hope for your sake this man is true to his word because if he doesn't marry you or he uses you and then dumps you in the street, I won't have you back and there will be no resolution or forgiveness from God either. This house and the church will no longer be a home for you."

(Y/n) thought for the longest moment of her life that he was going to hit her again with the way his eyes were burning through her and melting her underneath his stare. But he didn't. He pulled on her hair until she ground her teeth and shrieked and then he pulled her away from him and let go of her hair, watching her fall back onto the sofa before she went down on her knees on the floor.

Tears streaked down (Y/n)'s features and a sob bubbled up in the back of her throat as she looked up at the man she didn't want to call her father anymore just as Joe barged back into the room upon hearing (Y/n) cry out.

Just as Joe went down on his knees beside (Y/n) and wrapped his arms around her, (Y/n) felt her heart crumbling in her chest at her father's next words.

"My daughter, the whore."

(Y/n) couldn't breathe.

He'd never said anything like that to or about her before in all her life. Her mother had called her stupid, insolent, horrid, she'd even called her a bitch at one point, but her father never called her any such name or word. He knew he would break her heart and soul by saying something like that and he did it anyway.

"(Y/n), come on get up. You're coming back with me." Joe wrapped his arms around his sister and slowly pulled up up until she was standing, fighting off his own tears when he felt how she was trembling against him like a leaf in the breeze. He wasn't letting her stay here and he didn't want her to be on her own in this state. But the moment (Y/n) was stood up she wriggled out of his arms and stumbled out of the room.

She wasn't going anywhere with any of her family.

In her haste to get out of the suffocating house (Y/n) didn't even put on her slip on shoes, she stumbled out of the house bare foot with her bag on her shoulder and her jacket dragging on the floor behind her like a shadow trailing after her.

The only place she could go in this state was down the road and into the church that she knew was no longer going to be her save haven after what her father just told her. He had practically evicted her from her own church and cast her out of her religion, but he couldn't take away her faith even if he wanted to. God had some kind of plan for (Y/n) and this was just how he was deciding to test her and all of her family.

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"Doll?"

Ben didn't like this. He'd never been one for churches at the best of times but he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually stepped inside of one. This one was seemingly bigger on the inside, the ceiling extended up for miles, the alter was never-ending and the glass windows were almost frightening.

His feet were horribly loud against the stone floor that clicked and tapped against his heels but as he got closer to the end of the church, the only other sound he could hear was someone crying that he could tell for certain was (Y/n). Ben had been expecting her to call or text him today and ask for him to pick her up and take her away from her home because he knew she was going to tell them today.

But he'd gotten the fright of his life when she called him and could barely form a coherent word. It took a while for him to drag out of her where she was so he could come get her but she sounded as if she'd been stabbed or tortured and it scared him.

The moment (Y/n) came into sight Ben couldn't breathe.

She was kneeling on the floor in front of the alter and a rather large, looming cross that made Ben shiver in distaste. If (Y/n) hadn't of been crying he might of left her there for a few minutes believing that she was praying or trying to find some solace and comfort but her cries were too hard to ignore.

Ben went down on his knees beside her, raking his eyes over her as he gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him.

(Y/n) saw the look in his eyes, he was scanning her over for injuries like he seemed to do quite a lot. Whenever she was upset or argued with her family he thought she was in danger or hurt so he checked in case she'd gotten hurt. All Ben needed was a sign and (Y/n)'s say so and he would unleash the Hell inside of him onto her family but she could never let him do that. But this time, she was on the verge of letting him.

"Baby, tell me what happened, are you alright?"

Ben wasted no time in wrapping his arms around (Y/n) and picking her up until he could sit her on his lap with one arm over her legs and his hand on her bum and the other hand wrapped around her back. He had to stop his muscles from stiffening up when he felt (Y/n) crying into his neck as she wrapped her arms around his neck, scratching her nails against the short hairs at the back of his head. He wanted to take her out to the car but he didn't know if she wanted to leave yet, she obviously came to the church for a reason and he didn't have the heart to drag her away if being here was helping her even slightly.

His lip curled in distaste when he noticed how her hair was dishevelled and she had no shoes on her feet meaning she'd walked or even run here bare foot and with how red her features were and the amount of tears streaked on her face told Ben it was bad.

It took a moment for Ben to actually understand what (Y/n) was telling him when she was hiccuping through her words that were stuttered and breathless. But when he heard her his heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He couldn't see how her father- the reverend of all people, would practically disown her from his home and the church like that. He was supposed to help people in need and not care what their sins were because that would be judging them and it wasn't in his job to discriminate people. But he judged (Y/n) and he cast her out because she hadn't done what he wanted her to.

Ben pressed his lips to the top of (Y/n)'s head, holding her that little bit closer to his chest like he was trying to stuff her into his heart to protect her. He swayed them side to side for a few moments before hoping that she was calm enough to head home with him.

"Alright, shh. I'm taking you home baby before I'm tempted to go and shove that cross up his ass."

Ben eased (Y/n) onto the floor before he moved so he was crouching in front of her, holding her arms so he could help her up. He hated how she shook against him and buried her face in his chest to smother her cries when he wrapped his arms around her.

She didn't deserve this.

"He..." (Y/n) trailed off, shaking her head as she suddenly thought better of what she was going to say when they were halfway up the alter. But Ben stopped walking and turned to look over at her, if she wanted to tell him something she could, she didn't have to worry or be afraid like she did around her family.

"He what, doll? Did he hurt you?" Ben's free hand that wasn't around her waist suddenly cradled the side of her face and lifted her chin so he could peer down at her to make sure she had no bruises or cuts or bleeding.

The way he looked at her made her heart burst because it showed how much he cared for and loved her. If he was how her mother thought he was then he wouldn't look at her like he was going to murder someone for touching one hair on her head. He wouldn't cradle her face like he was, his eyes wouldn't burn into her own and beg for her to tell him she was okay.

"He c-called me a whore."

(Y/n) didn't know why she was telling Ben this, part of her thought it was because she knew he could hurt and threaten her father and scare him in the way he had hurt and scared her. She wanted to get even with him for what he had said, but the other part of (Y/n) wondered if she'd told Ben so she could be reassured that she wasn't what her father called her.

What if she really did go against her faith and God would punish her? (Y/n) wouldn't know how to live if she was cut off from the church and her religion, surely God would never cast out anyone? He could forgive murderers and rapists and terrorists and all other people who did wrong, he would forgive her for living her life in a slightly different way and order. Surely he would give her forgiveness or not see this as a sin.

The way Ben's face contorted into such anger and the vindictive, spiteful look in his eyes made (Y/n) shiver and shrink in on herself. She'd never seen him look so fierce and murderous before, he'd always looked calm, cheeky or composed or loving around (Y/n) and gave no signs he was who Joe always said he was. But right now, (Y/n) could see the look of a murderer in his eyes and it made her afraid for her family rather than herself.

"I'm gonna kill him."

(Y/n) couldn't be sure whether Ben meant he was going to hurt her father or if he actually meant he was going to kill him because the way he said it made it clear that Ben could and would kill him if he wanted to.

Reaching forward, (Y/n) latched her arms back around Ben's bicep to pull him back when he let go of her and tried to storm out of the church. She couldn't have him going to her home now because Joe would probably still be there and (Y/n) couldn't take any more arguments or fights today.

"No- Ben don't, please!"

Her eyes burned into his own when he turned back to look at her, cautiously moving his tense hand to cradle the side of her face and she was sure if Ben was made of butter he would have melted right then and there.

"The bastard can't say things like that to you doll and think he can get away with it! Listen to me, in my eyes you're an angel I shouldn't go anywhere near because I'll corrupt you. You're like gold dust and if he can't see that it isn't your fault. If he says anything to you or he dares to touch you again I won't be asking your permission before I rip him a new one."

(Y/n) had to see herself how Ben saw her, she was a good girl, she was far too good for him in his eyes and if no one else saw how special she was that wasn't her fault. She had to listen to Ben when he told her how special she was, not her father when he degraded her because she was her own person and Ben was going to make sure she understood just how special she was.

But if her father tried anything like that again Ben wasn't asking (Y/n)'s permission, he would go straight round there and use him as a punching bag until he was unrecognisable because that was the only way Ben knew how to get through to people who got on his bad side.

"Can we go home?" (Y/n) buried her face in Ben's chest, slowly dragging her nails down his back when he wound his arms around her.

She heard him hum in response but she couldn't see the tender smile on his face when she referred to his place as their home.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #imagine #BoRhap #joe mazzello #joe mazello imagine #murderer! ben #shes a good girl

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 years

Photo

These homes in Madrid, Spain always have such style, they’re great for inspiration. Here’s another colorfully decorated eclectic one. The ground floor leads to a landscaped patio. There’s a continuity in the objects, full of references to nature: The paintings of insects, flowers, & corals

Modern and vintage pieces fill the room. The pair of leather seats are inherited.

The dining area has been painted an intense blue color –including the custom-made furniture, on which have been placed lamps with bottle feet and a large mirror brought from Mexico– they contrast with the white that rules in the kitchen.

A carpet delineates the dining area with industrial chairs an a country table.

Very neat and tidy art area- an antique desk and a small easel.

The concrete floor painted in blue and the colorful textiles star in the master bed- room.

At the foot of the bed, a trunk and two iron armchairs flank an antique dresser.

The bathroom features checkerboard tiling that was reclaimed. The stool is made of plastic.

This corner of the garden creates an atmosphere that invites people to chat.

Landscaped with plants and trees, the patio is a place to relax or take a nap.

https://franquicias-de-internet.info/es/casas/a36749409/casa-colonia-centro-madrid-patio-ajardinado/

#eclectic decor #eclectic home in madrid #colorful decor ideas

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ohemmaness · 3 years

Text

"Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have"

"I've been tearing around in my fucking nightgown 24/7 Sylvia Plath Writing in blood on the walls 'Cause the ink in my pen don't work in my notepad Don't ask if I'm happy, you know that I'm not But, at best, I can say I'm not sad 'Cause hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me to have"

-Credits below the cut-

Style Credits:

Hair - DOUX - Peach Hairstyle (Current round of Equal10)

Glasses - .random.Matter. - Rose Glasses - Gold

Top - dami / MIMI GACHA / #A1 (TOP) legacy (K9 Current round)

Shorts - dami / MIMI GACHA / #A1 (PANTS) legacy (K9 Current round)

Leggings - ::C'est la vie !:: Inda Leggings (#1) - Black (Bom)

Shoes - REIGN.- TAYLOR BOAT SHOES NORMAL

Decor Credits:

Chair: KOPFKINO - Good Reads - Armchair

Books w/ Teacup: KOPFKINO - Bookworm - Tea Time

Lamp: KOPFKINO - Blum Floor Lamp - Gold (Materials)

Foot Stool: Kalopsia - Junie's Pouf

Book Shelf : LISP - Mesh - Jacob Bookcase with books (2li version) - White

Plant : {vespertine}- exotic plants / ficus -rubber plant

Macrame - Ariskea[Celeste] Macrame Star & Ariskea[Uber] Birthday macrame 1

Curtains: NOMAD // Curtain C // White Linen(resized)

Building: Onsu ~ "St. Cloud" Skybox ~ Smaller Texture Ver

#second life #onsu #nomad #ariskea #vespertine #lisp #kalopsia #kopfkino #reign #c'est la vie #dami #random matter #doux #emma ness #ohemmaness #starlight sl #SL #blogging #home decor #virtual world

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tiliamericana · 3 years

Text

Muay Thai: 1.03

Read from start | Read Ahead | Home Site

The florist down the street was a peaceful place, even if walking in the front door was a little like being punched in the nose. They had a scent pump hidden in a hanging pot by the front door—Nairi wasn’t entirely certain why they needed to spray heavy fragrance oils inside a place filled with flowers, but she’d never managed a flower shop herself. Maybe they were trying to hook pedestrians.

The college kid manning the counter waved in recognition, already turning to fetch her order from the shelf. “Back again?” he said cheerfully as she approached, setting her wrapped cuttings on the counter. “I shouldn’t really discourage repeat patronage, but you know these suckers are pretty easy to grow yourself, right?”

Nairi shrugged, handing her card over as he rung up her order. “I’m pretty bad at keeping plants alive.”

He gave her a rueful grin as he handed her the chip reader to finish the transaction. “I get that—I used to kill cactuses before I started working here. The nurseries we order from have some pretty fierce gardeners on staff though, got me sorted very quickly.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded and kept talking despite her disinterest. The Thursday morning flower rush clearly didn’t provide enough opportunities for socialization. “Yeah, they’re all local places who go all in on small seasonal batches and heritage seeds. The bigger commercial suppliers don’t really have the same kind of knowledge base, it’s very cool.”

Nairi gave him a polite smile as she pocketed her card and picked up the greenery. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Have a great day!” he called out as she left through the flowers. She sneezed when she stepped into the fresh air outside and rubbed at her nose. Hopefully orchids would go out of fashion soon; she was rapidly coming to hate the smell.

It was a nice day, and she lingered for a moment before heading back inside the dojo. Sun streamed across the front room and she hesitated before leaving the door unlocked. She was close to her opening time anyway and if someone came in early the bell would ring. She tucked her wallet and keys into the desk drawer with the lock and crossed to the back room, leaving that door open behind her.

The second room had a viewing gallery rather than floor markings, and it was raised off the ground as a little balconette. It ran the length of the back wall with a built-in bench and was accessible by a stained wood step ladder; a very pretty feature, the real estate agent had said. Nairi had set her shrine at the far end of the balcony, on a little nook inset to the wall. It had had dividing shelves installed, probably for bags or shoes, but she’d pulled them out to make room.

She’d cleaned her vase that morning to replace the plants, filling it with clean water before she left. The kid at the florist’s hadn’t really reacted when she’d placed her weekly order for just green plants rather than anything with flowers, but she supposed she didn’t actually know what was considered ‘odd’ to buy from a florist.

Everything else was set up, so she lit the incense and knelt.

A few minutes later the bell rang. Nairi stared at the shrine in front of her for a few moments, then blinked and climbed to her feet. Halfway down the ladder someone called out her name, and her confusion only rose as she stepped onto the mats and crossed back to the front room.

The hooker from the night before, Cherry, was standing in the doorway. She was still half outside, door propped open with her hip, one hand behind her in the sunlight with a lit cigarette smoldering in her fingers. Her other hand was a bit closer to her body, probably to balance the cardboard tray with two coffee cups in it. Her expression brightened when she made eye contact with Nairi, and she smiled. “Oh, there you are! Wasn’t sure I had the right place.”

Nairi stared at her blankly. In the daylight Cherry looked like almost an entirely different person—slinky dress and soft make up gone, traded for faded and worn cutoffs and tank top with half laced docs. Her bare arms had tattoos of fire circling her wrists, tongues of flame licking up to her elbows and her clean face was rounder and freckled.

“Why are you here?” said Nairi blankly, staring at her.

Cherry grinned, juggling the cups between her elbow and shoulder very carefully. “You saved my ass and bought me dinner. I’ve been on dates that aren’t that nice, babe, I wanted to say thanks.”

She dropped the cigarette on the concrete and crushed it under the toe of her boot before stepping inside properly. The bell jingled again as the door swung shut behind her, and she blinked to adjust to the light inside before taking the few steps to close the distance between her and Nairi.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” she said, tugging one of the cups out of the tray and offering it to Nairi, “so I just picked the most inoffensive thing I could think of.”

Nairi took the cup after a moment and had a quick sip. Foamy, bitter coffee filled her mouth and she tried not to grimace as she swallowed. “Thanks.”

The corner of Cherry’s mouth twitched. “Not a latte kind of girl?”

Nairi winced. “I don’t drink coffee,” she admitted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Sorry, it was really nice of you.”

“Can’t win ‘em all,” said Cherry, still smiling at her as she plucked the cup out of Nairi’s hand. “Do you like mochas, or teas or something?”

“Uh, I mean, tea usually, I don’t—caffeine gives me headaches—”

“Do you have some time before you open this place up?” asked Cherry, gesturing around the dojo.

“I guess, yeah, I scheduled for twelve, but no one shows up for—”

“Great!” said Cherry brightly. “C’mon, I don’t know how fancy Starbucks gets, but there’s this little posh place on the corner that looks like they’ll sneer at you for using teabags, lemme get you a pot?”

Nairi glanced at the clock over her door. There were fifteen minutes til she was scheduled to open, but, well, no one had booked or called about the noon session. “Okay,” she said after a moment.

Cherry grinned, raising the second coffee to her lips and sculling it in long gulps as Nairi slipped her shoes on. She dropped the coffee cups in Nairi’s wastepaper basket and reached out, grabbing Nairi by the wrist to tug her onto the street outside. Nairi took a second to lock up with the chain while Cherry tapped a toe impatiently, and when she turned back Cherry was watching her curiously.

“You have a problem with break ins?” she asked as Nairi stepped back next to her.

“No,” said Nairi, glancing at her. “Why do you ask?”

Cherry shrugged, hooking her hands into the back pockets of her shorts as they walked. “Heavy duty locks for this part of town, s’all. Though, I’ve lived in some pretty interesting places, and then college towns like, totally fuck with your perception of that stuff, so I’m probably not the best judge of what’s like, a ‘good area’ or whatever.”

Nairi hummed noncommittedly, keeping her gaze ahead of her. She could feel Cherry’s eyes on the side of her face and tried not to think too hard about what it was she was seeing.

The café Cherry took her to was on the other end of the street to Nairi’s building, and it was small and picturesque. It had low armchairs and beanbags dotted around the open air front space, and as it transitioned into the café proper the walls were lined with tall shelves sporting thick, coffee-table books and lush, overflowing ferns. Low chatter and the steaming of coffee machines filled the sparsely occupied room.

Cherry went straight for the counter, tugging Nairi along with her. “Hey there!” she said in a friendly tone, flashing a bright smile at the bearded young man behind the counter. “Do you guys have any like, fun teas?”

He nodded, leaning over the counter to point at the chalkboard wall with the marker he’d been turning over in his hands. “Sure do. We’ve got all of these guys, plus, you know, like English Breakfast and stuff. The Sinnamon’s new, and Rose and Shine is very popular with soda and ice as a morning mocktail.”

The other teas on the menu were called things like ‘Rooid Boi’, ‘Lemon Aid’, ‘Raspberry Remnant’, and ‘Tea Thyme’ with the ingredients listed in a nigh incomprehensible chalked cursive. Nairi stared at them blankly.

Cherry squinted at them, mouth open slightly. “….Did you just forget to write the raspberry in on that one?” she asked, pointing at ‘Raspberry Remnant’.

“It used to have raspberry leaves in the blend, but we had some issues. We liked the name, so we kept it,” he said, shrugging.

Nairi ignored the wall and turned to address the guy instead. “Do you have anything with oolong?” she tried.

He nodded, pointing at a couple of the marked teas again. “Yeah, the Roasty Posie is oolong with mixed floral overtones, and Save the Teas uses an oolong base as well. If you’re looking for a gentler caffeine experience, then Rose and Shine uses white tea.” He grinned, leaning on the counter with his elbows. “Also, we do a uh, ‘house special’ with the Serenity Chill where we add booster shots of oolong and white tea—we call it ‘Aunt Mableton’s Icicle Situation’ after our manager’s cat.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi after a moment. “I’ll have a pot of Save the Teas, I guess?”

“Sure,” he said, leaning back and pulling the cap off the marker to write it down directly on the polished steel countertop. “Can I grab anything else for you ladies?”

“Can I grab an iced mocha,” said Cherry, turning her head and pointing at the glass case. “And like… one each of the fruit muffins?”

He nodded, adding them down as Nairi tugged out her wallet to pay. Cherry smacked her hand away and handed the guy some cash in exchange for the little table number, giving Nairi a wry grin. She stuffed the change into the tip jar and tugged Nairi over to a tall table by a bookshelf.

“You didn’t have to,” said Nairi as she shifted to take a stool on the far side so that the wall was behind her.

Cherry shrugged, dropping her wallet and phone on the tabletop before sitting across from her, kicking her booted feet back up onto the stool’s brace bar. “It’d be a pretty shitty way to pay you back for dinner, making you put out for brunch as well,” she said, poking her tongue out at Nairi.

Nairi wasn’t sure what to say to that and she fiddled with a loose thread in her cuff for several long moments. Eventually it got too awkward for her to bear, and she shifted. “Makes sense.”

“Aren’t you hot in that?” asked Cherry, crossing her arms on the table in front of her. Weirdly enough the only jewellery she was wearing was a small gold cross on a chain, no rings or bracelets. If Nairi had taken a second to think about how Cherry would dress off the job, this wouldn’t have been it.

She shrugged instead of answering the question.

“No, seriously,” said Cherry, her grin twitching a little at the corners. “I know it’s still a bit windy after midnight, but it’s still July, it’s like a hundred degrees out right now! How are you in long sleeves?”

“I just prefer it,” said Nairi, shrugging again. She felt an itch in the middle of her back, right between her shoulders, the way she did when someone was staring at her. There was only wall there. She resisted the urge to turn around and check anyway. “It’s light, you know, whatever.”

Cherry looked like she was going to push a little harder, but thankfully their food arrived and cut her off. Did it still count as brunch when it was nearly noon already? Either way, Cherry was thoroughly distracted, smiling sunnily at the cheerful girl with dreads and facial piercings who set their order across the table. Nairi had been given two glasses; both thick and squat, one filled with ice in deference to the weather.

Cherry sliced open one of the muffins, blueberry, and picked up the butter dish, waggling her eyebrows at Nairi over the mason jar that contained her iced mocha. “This place is a little… more than I was expecting.”

“It’s very… lush,” said Nairi, flicking her eyes to one side to give a hanging fern a deliberate look.

Cherry stifled an ugly snort, her head ducking as she pushed the muffins towards Nairi. “At least it’s interesting,” she said, hooking a hand around her jar of coffee. “Come on, tell me how the hippie tea is.”

Nairi poured a small cup of it out and took a careful sip, raising an eyebrow. “Organic,” she said. It actually wasn’t bad; a little woody and over steeped, but she was used to that at least.

Cherry took a long sip through her straw, eyebrow arched in return as she looked at Nairi through her eyelashes, then grimaced, leaning back. “Oh, that’s soy milk and straight cacao, I think this might be a vegan place.”

“Good to know,” said Nairi, smiling a little without thinking about it as Cherry picked up her half of the blueberry muffin.

“Are you vegan?” asked Cherry, tearing the muffin into chunks. “Or do you just like veggies for tempura?”

“Just vegetarian,” said Nairi, drinking more tea. “Don’t like meat. Milk and stuff is fine.”

“Don’t like violence against animals but you’re perfectly happy doling out a little of your own in the dark of the night?” teased Cherry, washing down her bites with more mocha.

“I have the black belts, I may as well put them to good use,” said Nairi with another awkward shrug, wishing she could get comfortable.

“’Belts’, huh? You know other stuff, not just Judo?”

Nairi hummed. “Krav Maga and Muay Thai as well. Belts or rankings and colours aren’t universal in different arts, but more people know what they generally mean, so, you know. My Muay school used armbands.”

Cherry nodded, one of her legs kicking the air under her stool. “Yeah? Do you teach those too or just Judo?”

“All three. I only have real students for Judo, though.”

“What makes someone a real student?”

“Showing up?”

Cherry snorted again, her hand flying to her mouth but not quite managing to hide her grin. “You don’t pull your punches anywhere, do you?”

Nairi shrugged again, not really sure how to take that.

Cherry seemed to find it an acceptable response anyway, openly watching Nairi with a fascinated expression. “Can I ask you something weird?”

“Sure,” said Nairi. It wasn’t like she could get more uncomfortable.

“So, like, ‘Nairi’ isn’t a super common name, and you seem proficient and reasonably scary,” said Cherry, peeling the paper away from another muffin as she watched Nairi indirectly. “And like, I keep my ears to the ground you know—or, well, fuck, okay, I occasionally end up in bed or working with people who have, uh, other hobbies cops might be interested in—”

Nairi wasn’t a hundred percent certain where she was going with this, but she tensed regardless, her expression relaxing into cool neutral.

If Cherry noticed, it didn’t stop her. “—Anyway, you wouldn’t happen to be the same Nairi who scared off the guys making meth a couple of blocks from here, would you?”

…Well, that wasn’t good, but it was leagues away from the worst thing she could have said. “I think I had a conversation with them,” she said politely, eyes flicking down to watch Cherry’s hands on the tabletop. She took a moment to consider and then added: “Sorry if that’s made one of your… ‘hobbies’ more difficult for you.”

Cherry snorted again and shook her head, looking distinctly unbothered. “Nah, not for me. I have a hard enough time making rent without that shit.”

She was still smiling.

Cherry swallowed her muffin and took a more gratuitous sip of her mocha, shifting how she was leaning on the table and looking up at Nairi properly again. “So you’re like, new in town right? Don’t know a lot of people yet?”

“What gave me away?” said Nairi, blinking at her.

“Just a feeling,” said Cherry, her cheeks dimpling as she polished off her drink. She climbed to her feet, tucking her wallet away, but flipping open her phone. “Do you wanna do this again some time? Like, I mean, tomorrow even if you want. I can come by earlier so we don’t run up against your opening, or we could grab food after you close for the day?”

“I—sure?” said Nairi, her mouth answering for her while she tried to process the abrupt change of gears. “I mean, what?”

“Catching up, getting to know each other, being friendly?” said Cherry brightly, shifting a little closer to Nairi. “You’ve got your dojo to open today and I need to clock some time at my day job, but I’d love to get to know you better, show you round town, introduce to some friends, even?”

Nairi only just managed to swallow the ‘Why?’ that was about to trip off her tongue. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d uh, yeah I’d like that?”

“Great!” said Cherry, holding out her phone with the screen open to a ‘new contact’ entry. “What’s your number?”

#serial fiction #series honey tree #book muay thai #103 #lgbt fiction

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this-solaris-life · 4 years

Text

Gifts of our Love

XichenWeek 2020: Day 3 Prompt Words: sunset, sunrise, or longing.

Writer’s Note: So this is my second installment of my mingxicheng soulmate au where if you hear a song stuck in your head it’s because your soulmate is singing it.

You can read the first one-shot of this au here or on ao3.

Nie Mingjue grunted in annoyance at the sound of his phone getting several rapid fire text messages. The alert tone clearly from his younger brother. Normally he’d be fine with that but he’d been up rather late going over the acquisition paperwork that’d been sent over. Since the texts didn’t stop coming he reached out blindly for his phone. His hand palming the night stand till he finally felt his phone. He cracked an eye open realizing that the shades were still down keeping the room dim. So he opened both eyes to read his texts.

“Shit.” Nie Mingjue cursed from getting blinded by the brightness of his phone. He turned the brightness down and was able to make out that Nie Huaisang wasn’t the only one who’d texted him. Jiang Cheng had also sent him two texts. He quickly answered Nie Huaisang’s text then opened Jiang Cheng’s. His heart beating in anticipation.

After the dinner at House Koi, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen had gotten Jiang Cheng to meet with them for coffee. Jiang Cheng had agreed to meet with them and they’d gotten their chance to explain that their soulmate bond had been connecting them through music. At first Jiang Cheng had been reluctant because of his previous relationship. They’d tested their bond a few times before Jiang Cheng had allowed for them to take him on a date. Since then they’ve been dating for eight months.

When the lease on Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng’s shared apartment was up for renewal they’d longed to invite Jiang Cheng to live with them, but they knew he wasn’t ready. The younger man had acted skittish for a few days until he and Lan Xichen had shown him some apartments that were close to them and his brother that he’d calmed down. Which is what led to today, Jiang Cheng had invited them over for dinner at his new apartment. His dark eyes reread the texts. Jiang Cheng had told them that they could come early if they wanted and hoped they were in the mood for some salad and steaks.

Nie Mingjue chuckled texting him back that they’d look forward to it. He turned to let Lan Xichen know but found that the side of the bed where his soulmate lay was empty. By the coldness of the sheets meant that the beautiful man had probably gotten up before sunrise. Nie Mingjue put his phone back on the nightstand and tossed the sheets back.

He grabbed a t-shirt off the chaise at the foot of their bed before leaving their bedroom. It didn’t take him long to find him. The door to the patio of the penthouse had been left open allowing the cool morning air inside and the curtains fluttering the in the wind. He moved the curtain aside to see Lan Xichen standing in front of his easel. His long silky hair up in a messy bun wearing one of Nie Mingjue’s older sweaters already stained by previous painting sessions and some well fit jeans. His head bobbing as he mumbled some lyrics. He looked comfy and inviting. So, Nie Mingjue didn’t resist the temptation to go over to him.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Lan Xichen chuckled as he felt warm arms wrapping around his waist. A sharp chin resting on his shoulder as he was hugged from behind.

“Good morning.” Nie Mingjue replied with his eyes glancing over Lan Xichen’s painting. It had been a long time since his soulmate had painted and it warmed his heart to think that the reason he’d started again was because they’d found their missing mate.

“Do you think he will like it?” Lan Xichen asked, as he switched brushes.

“Yes, I do. He’ll love it because you made it for him. You know how sentimental he is.” Nie Mingjue answered, pressing a quick peck to the side of Lan Xichen’s cheek.

“Yes, he is.” Lan Xichen smiled turning his head to get a kiss on the lips. His free hand coming up to cup Nie Mingjue’s chin jaw to keep him there a bit longer. A small smudge of purple paint print on the older man's chin.

“Hmmm, he invited us to come early if we wanted.” Nie Mingjue informed him as they parted.

“Great, it won’t take me much longer to finish this.” Lan Xichen replied, a bright smile on his face.

The drive to Jiang Cheng’s new place took a bit longer than they’d planned due to the sheer amount of traffic. It was oddly busy for a Thursday evening, but it was alright. At least they weren’t late. Lan Xichen sent Jiang Cheng a text letting them know that they’d just pulled into his apartment parking lot. Nie Mingjue gently got the painting out of the trunk while Lan Xichen got the bottle of Jiang Cheng’s favorite wine and bouquet that Nie Mingjue had picked out for the younger man.

Nie Mingjue used the guest code that Jiang Cheng sent him to go inside. The ride up with the painting was smooth and they were able to find his apartment 1105 easily.

“He’s going to love these.” Lan Xichen stated, eyeing the large bouquet of stargazer lilies as he rang the doorbell for them. Before Nie Mingjue could reply to him, the door opened revealing Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen’s mouth went dry at the sight. Jiang Cheng looked good. He was dressed in a white v-neck t-shirt with an over sized plum colored cardigan and black denim jeans that showed off his runners legs. His long black hair hanging off one of his shoulders in a braid showcasing his beautiful sapphire eyes.

“Come in.” Jiang Cheng flushed under the gazes, stepping back to allow them to come in. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course we did, Wanyin. This is your first apartment on your own.” Nie Mingjue replied as he leaned in pressing a quick peck to Jiang Cheng’s red tinged cheek.

“What kind of boyfriends or soulmates would that make us if we didn’t want to give you something to commemorate this?” Lan Xichen continued sneaking his own kiss to the other cheek making Jiang Cheng’s splotchy flush deepen before handing him the bouquet.

“I guess you’re both right.” Jiang Cheng mumbled shutting the door leading them into the apartment. The hallway just passed the entryway had built-in bookshelves that weren’t entirely filled but there were several picture frames with Jiang Cheng’s family, friends, and of them on dates making Lan Xichen’s heart swell. He stopped for a moment over the picture of them at the aquarium. It been one of their first dates.

“A-Huan?” Jiang Cheng called his name stirring him from his thoughts. He realized that the two of them were already at the end of the hallway with the shoji doors open.

“Sorry, Wanyin.”

“Don’t apologize. That was a great day together.” Jiang Cheng replied, walking back to him and out reaching out his hand. Lan Xichen gleefully stepped forward taking hold, intertwining their fingers as they entered the apartment. The walls of crisp white with grayish stained wooden floors.

“Yes it was.” Nie Mingjie reaffirmed with a grin. The floor plan was open with a whole wall of floor to ceiling windows that showed off that let them see the evening sky, that is if the shades weren’t down. To the far right is a rather large living room area with a plush leather sectional and two armchairs framing the fireplace with the television above it. A set of shoji just off to the side of the fireplace. Behind the couch is a table with Jiang Cheng’s own stool and easel. An unfinished canvas still on it. To the left is the full size kitchen with a floating island and dining room table that could easily fit Jiang Cheng’s siblings and their families.

“This lovely, Wanyin.” Lan Xichen praised the apartment. Nie Mingjue nodded in agreement making Jiang Cheng smile proudly.

“Thank you, I’ll put these in water real quick. Would you like to eat now or show you the rest of the apartment?” Jiang Cheng asked, already heading for the kitchen to get a vase.

“Why don’t we eat now? You can show us the rest of the apartment and open your gift from A-Huan.” Nie Mingjue answered him after Lan Xichen was too busy staring at the other. Lan Xichen was the one the blush now at being caught gawking. But who could blame? Jiang Cheng was beautiful when he smiled.

“Alright then.” Jiang Cheng stated as he grabbed a vase out of one of the cabinets while Nie Mingjue set the painting on the couch before joining them in the kitchen. Everything was already laid out, looking and smelling really good. Not that they had anything to fear. The both of them had learned that Jiang Cheng was quite the cook.

“You want to drink what you brought us or what I have already opened?” Jiang Cheng asked, as he set the vase filled with his bouquet in the center of the island.

“We can have what you already have opened and drink this later with dessert.” Lan Xichen said, eyeing the blueberry cheesecake on the glass cake stand while sitting the bottle of wine on the island. Jiang Cheng huffed with a smile grabbing the bottle to put in his wine fridge built into the island before pulling out the bottle that was already opened. Nie Mingjue took the bottle filling their glasses once they were at the table.

“To your new home, Waynin.” Lan Xichen said, raising his glass. The three of them clinking their glasses before diving into good food and even better conversations. The clean up didn’t take too long with the three of them working or if that’s what you’d call it with Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue stealing kisses from Jiang Cheng.

“I hope that you like it.” Lan Xichen says, giving Nie Mingjue a nervous glance when they finally went to the living room .

“You made this for me, A-Huan, how can I not love it?” Jiang Cheng replied leaning over to give him a quick peck on the lips before turning to unwrap the canvas. Jiang Cheng stilled as he got the paper open enough for only for a moment before tearing at the paper. His heart racing as his eyes drink in the sight of a beautifully rendered sunset just above a very familiar beach. It was the beach just outside their villa on their first weekend together. That sky had been a beautiful mixture of purple, red, pink, and gold. His soulmate and boyfriend had captured it perfectly.

“I thought that it would be-” Lan Xichen started but the rest of the words left him as he was pulled into a passion filled kiss by Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen held his hips to ground himself.

“I love it and I know exactly where it’s going. Let me show you.” Jiang Cheng said between breaths for air, taking a hold of both Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue’s hands leading them towards his bedroom.

#You're The Song of My Soul AU #mingxicheng #nie mingjue #lan xichen #jiang cheng #modern soulmate au #xichenweek2020 #This is such a sweeet au.#not beta read

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