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avinaccia · 3 years ago

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A Completely Objective and Logical Ranking of Every Hetalia Character Song

New character songs are dropping, I have too much time on my hands, let’s go.

Also here’s a Youtube playlist for the ~✨nostalgia✨~

Bring it on in the tags

71. Ah Legendary Class⭐The Awesome Me Highway [Prussia]: Absolutely tearing it up on the drums and on the vocal cords alike (I pray for Atsushi Kousaka). Great for the memes.

70. Happy Thoughts Museum [???]: This is listed as an official song but I had literally never heard of the title. Then I listened to it and BAM! Smack back to 2013 watching the teasers for the show on Funimation. Not sure I’d count it as a character song though...

69. (Nice) My Song that is written by me for me [Prussia]: Deafened me but I can appreciate the industrial grind.

68. My House is...Quiet. ~With the Trolls~ [Norway]: I have never heard this song, nor can I find any version of it online. By default it goes here and I am so sorry Norge.

67. Make a Wish to Santa♪ [Sealand]: The discordant notes and childish exuberance only serve to make this sound like a demonic plea to Santa to eliminate the singer’s enemies.

66. Heaven and Hell on Earth [Rome]: Rome sounds like he’s been in the corner of a restroom. Extra points for the metal version, minus points for the fact that the beach scene was replayed like 1764 times.

65. Canada Complete Introduction [Canada]: Quiet af until Kumacheerio shows up and blows out your speakers. they did you dirty my darling 😔

64. It’s Easy!!! [America]: I don't think any video of this has ever stayed up for more than 20 seconds. Sounds cool, but like I was listening to 20 different genres at once, someone make him calm down.

63. Bù Zàiyì the Small Stuff ☆ [China]: I cannot for the life of me find the complete song anywhere, clips have a cool beat though

62. Let's Boil Hot Water♪ [Italy]: Exactly what it says on the tin..though a bit too close to elevator music for my tastes.

61. The Fragrance of Early Summer [Japan]: Very ‘from the books’ Japan-esque song

60. Peace Sounds Nice…[Baltic Trio]: All well and good until the radio demon shows up

59. W●D●C ~World Dancing~ [America]: How a song can sound like it’s from 4 different decades at once is beyond me

58. Overflowing Passion [BFT]: This is just drunken karaoke and I have 0 clue what’s going on #iconicforallthewrongreasons

57. Ren●Ren●Renaissance♪ [Rome+Chibitalia]: Wholesome Grandpa with Grandson content - barring the fact that Italy sounds on the verge of a nervous breakdown and Rome has had too much wine.

56. Roma Antiqua [Rome]: Similar energy to any one of China’s songs - there’s a part of the song where it sounds like he’s singing in the shower, and I will never not laugh at [CENSORED]

55. Country From Where the Sun Rises, Zipangu [Japan]: Very chill, very Japan, but just meh for me.

54. Moon Over Emei Shan [China]: Good message, okay song.

53. My Friend [England]: What a mind palace you must have Mr. Kirkland

52. With Love, from Iceland [Iceland]: Three words: Heavy. Metal. Puffin.

51. Having Friends is Nice...♫ [Russia]: Russia is the cutest thing ever

50. Mm. [Sweden]: Smooth transition from WWE Smackdown to shopping at IKEA.

49. Why don’t you come over? ~Beyond the Northern Lights~ [Iceland]: I don’t want to be mean but...this does sound like the second closing theme to an anime whose first closing was much more popular (à la Soul Eater)

48. Gakuen☆Festa [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Sounds like a 60s song of the summer but oh dear their voices do not go together. Hella cute though.

47. Wa! Wa!! World Ondo [Main Cast]: One time I travelled 10 hours in a coach bus with a bunch of teenagers to a city of note in my country, and the only souvenir I bought was the fucking PAINT IT WHITE DVD. Perfectly chaotic, UN ĐĕùX~~

46. In the Bluebell Woods [England]: In the album cover for this song he’s holding a guitar but this is not a rock song. Still has ‘running through the hills’ levels of dramatism though.

45. Poi Poi Poi♪ [Taiwan]: You’re telling me that Taiwan, someone whose has *ONE LINE* in Beautiful World (which is criminal tbh what kind of representation-) managed to get an eNTIRE CHARACTER SONG???????

44. White Flame [Russia]: There’s something to be said for a song that is 3x the length of any Hetalia episode

43. Ich liebe… [Germany]: Baking cakes for your friends has never been so wholesome.

42. We Wish you a Merry Christmas [America, China, England, France, Russia]: Nice to see they’ve gotten their shit together since United Nations Sta-hmm.

41. Ah, Worldwide à la mode [France]: Sounds like a Disney Princess song, hard not to picture France frolicking in a field of flowers.

40. Che Bello! ~My House is the Greatest!⭐~ [Italy]: Would not be out of place in an advertisement for Sea World.

39. May You Smile Today [Japan]: THE feel good song of the summer

38. Let’s Look Behind the Rainbow [Italy]: I will protect you.

37. I'm your HERO☆ [America]: “Anyone who’s sad or sullen will be arrested” did NOT age well.

36. Mein Gott! [Prussia]: Alternating headphone effect at the beginning is cool, so is the confidence...the actual singing on the other hand...

35. Nihao⭐China [China]: Listen, all of China’s character songs are great, I just can’t vibe with this one like some of the others.

34. Pechka ~Light My Heart~ [Russia]: I’m still having difficulty wrapping my head around the fact that this and Winter were released at the same time.

33. Pukapuka⭐Vacation [Germany, Italy, Japan]: Seems just a bit too much like they’re running on a treadmill that’s picking up speed and trying to sing at the same time. Peppy.

32. Santa Claus is Coming to Town [Germany, Italy, Japan]: This is unironically the best song sung by this trio; can only vibe with for two months out of the year though.

31. Excuse Me, I Am Sorry [Japan]: Japan’s character traits speedrun. Gives me barbershop quartet vibes for some reason but is catchy as hell.

30. The Story of Snow and Dreams [Russia]: A superhero anime opening in the making

29. England’s Evil Demon Summoning Song [England]: Sir that is not how you roast a marshmallow, don’t cut yourself on that edge.

28. Moi Moi Sauna♪ [Finland]: Exactly the type of song you’d expect and it’s wonderful

27. United Nations Star⭐ [America, China, England, France, Russia]: This isn’t as much of a song as it is a four minute struggle for everyone to sing without America yelling every 5 seconds...Like a particularly musical episode of Hetalia.

26. Paris is Indeed Splendid [France]: Paris-pa-pa-pa-paris

25. Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman [England]: Poppy, rocky, polka-dotty

24. Vorwärts Marsch! [Germany]: To quote the comment section: “This sounds like a German version of I’ll Make a Man out of you.” There’s some truth to that.

23. Hamburger Street [America]: The product of America’s rapper phase. 8/10 because he’s trying so hard and because I can unironically sing along to all of this.

22. Hoi Sam☆Nice Guy [Hong Kong]: A song that would absolutely destroy the ankles of anyone in DDR.

21. I Am German-Made [Germany]: There was once a version that had Germany and Prussia singing at the same time and it sounded positively demonic and Broadway could never

20. La pasión no se detiene ~Unstoppable Passion~ [Spain]: Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping...

19. Fall in Love, Mademoiselle [France]: Sounds like it should be in Mozart Opera Rock, I have kiss kiss falled in love.

18. Embrace the Très Bien Moi [France]: This is the definition of SELF LOVE PEOPLE.

17. Carrot and Stick [Belarus&Ukraine]: Absolutely DRIPPING in 2000s power ballad energy. The type of song that plays on repeat in the mind of the widow whose millionaire husband ‘mysteriously disappeared’ (and the only legit character song ever acknowledged by the anime)

16. C.B.C (Cowboyz Boot Camp) Vol. 1 [America]: AH MAH GAWWDDD

15. Winter [Russia]: Heavy metal fever dream and the perfect song for an angst-ridden teenager

14. Seychelles Here ⭐ Vacation Island [Seychelles]: UN👏DER👏RA👏TED SONG👏OF 👏THE 👏SUM👏MER👏

13. Nah, it will settle itself somehow [Romano]: One day I aspire to reach this level of chill

12. Let’s Enjoy Today [England]: I will never not feel happy when listening to this.

11. Einsamkeit [Germany]: Ludwig manages to air every single one of his worries about not being good enough compared to his friends and always being perceived as mean or uptight when he’s actually just a softie and now my heart hurts. 💔

10. Aiyaa Four Thousand Years [China]: A very poignant and beautiful song about the passage of time and the inevitability of its passing; comparable to an ancient ballad complete with explosive crescendos and meaningful lyrics.

9. Bon Bon Bon❤️C’est Bon C’est Bon! [France]: Peppy, cheerful, adorable, groundbreaking; has been my alarm tone for six years and I’ve yet to tire of it. 9/10 The moaning interspersed throughout has been an interesting wake-up call.

8. Let’s Enjoy! Let’s Get Excited! Cheers! [Denmark]: This is on par with Everytime we Touch by Cascada in terms of rage potential unlocked (the good kind)

7. Dream Journey [Japan]: Whoever’s playing the shakuhachi is absolutely KILLING IT. Dramatic, wonderful, great metaphors.

6. Gourmet’s Heart Beginner Level [China]: Absolute banger, I’m a vegetarian but this would inspire me to eat shumai.

5. Always with you...Nordic Five! [Nordic FIVVVVVEEEE]: Everyone harmonizes beautifully except for Denmark. Extremely catchy, number placement seemed appropriate.

4. Pub and GO! [England]: I love this trash man

3. Maji Kandou⭐Hong Kong Night [Hong Kong]: If you thought Denmark’s song was a banger JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL BLOW OUT MY SPEAKERS LISTENING TO LO-HA-SU.

2. Steady Rhythmus [Germany]: THIS SONG IS METAL AF. Seriously, if it can be classified as ‘hardcore’ by my father and his group of 50-somethings who have decided to single-handedly gatekeep the metal and hardrock genres, it can do anything.

1. The Delicious Tomato Song 🍅 [Romano]: Beautiful, absolutely awe-inspiring, poignant, catchy lyrics with an extremely deep meaning that only years of meticulous research and analysis can unlock, Romano I love you.

BONUS: Closing Songs

5. Hatafutte Parade (World Series)

4. Hetalian⭐Jet (The World Twinkle): The song is good, the dancing is cursed

3. Chikyuu Marugoto Hug Shitainda (World⭐Stars)

2. Marukaite Chikyuu (Hetalia: Axis Powers): nE NE PaPA

1. Mawaru Chikyuu Rondo (The Beautiful World)

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

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consistent.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this wasn’t the fic i originally intended to post tonight, but nevertheless, it kind of came out of nowhere on my drive home tonight. thank you all for your patience ♥️. takes place au!may 2016

words: 1k warnings: language

summary: “we are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.” william shakespeare the tempest, act four.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Your brow furrows as a familiar face steps into the room, her eyes shine brightly, reflecting your enthusiasm. She rolls her sleeves up over her elbows and washes her gentle, caring hands. “Oh, let me see this,” she says, as if this was the plan all along.

All of a sudden, it makes sense. She makes sense.

You carefully pass Isaac into her arms - her arms.

She looks at him with all the adoration in the world. She coos at him, tucking him into her elbow. He’s in and out of sleep, but not fussing too much.

She blossoms like a little flower with a baby in her arms - her eyes only a little misty. Her voice is a quiet comfort when she speaks.

“Hi, Isaac. I’m Haley. I’ve been really excited to meet you.” Then, after a moment, she shifts her attention, meeting your eyes.

“God, he looks just like you.”

You shake your head, reaching over to pull the blanket away from Isaac’s chin. “No, he looks like Jack.”

The pair of you share a laugh.

“It’s the nose. He’s got Aaron’s nose,” she decides. “And,” she checks on him under the blanket, “he got the hands, too.

Expertly tucking a pillow under her arm, she’s supported enough to reach over and grab your hand. “What’s going on?”

You don’t meet her gaze, keeping your eyes on your son. “Is this weird?”

“No,” she laughs. “No.” Her smile nearly eats her face whole. “I should be asking you. I am your husband’s ex-wife, after all.”

You roll your eyes. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”

Just then, the door opens with Aaron and (more importantly) food on the other side.

“Oh, you made it,” he says, crossing the room and kissing her cheek. She hums contentedly, still focused on Isaac. “I was worried you would get caught in traffic.”

Haley shakes her head. “Hell or high water, Aaron. I wasn’t about to miss out on the first day.”

He rolls his eyes and turns, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Get any sleep?”

“A little.” You redirect your attention. “What’s that?”

He sets the bag down and digs through it before coming out with a handful of wrapped sandwiches. He sets Haley’s beside her on the table and pulls your tray around to set the other in front of you. “Breakfast.”

You hum, rubbing your hands together. “Thank you.”

“You delivered my son into the world four hours ago - the least I can do is get you breakfast.” He levels you with an amused look.

You look to Haley and she shrugs. “At least he’s consistent. I got breakfast, too.”

“Hey,” he points at her with a plastic fork, “just because you’re holding my kid doesn’t mean you can mouth off.”

“All you did was stick it, Hotchner. And I can do whatever I want, because...” Her voice is still light despite her crass words, almost bouncy, as she runs her finger up and down Isaac’s cheek. “I get to hang out with my best friends’ kid.”

Some time passes, and you’re nursing Isaac with Haley tucked into your side, her head on your shoulder. “It’s nice to have you here.”

You can feel her smile against her shoulder. “I’m always here if you know where to look.”

+++

Your eyes snap open and you sit up straight. Isaac’s in his bedside crib, sleeping soundly. Aaron stirs and wakes, rolling over and throwing an arm out to check on you.

“You okay?” He slurs.

You nod. “Fine, fine. I just had the weirdest dream…”

He turns all the way around, folding his pillow with one arm on top and the other underneath - the picture of attention. “I’m up. Tell me.”

You start slow, trying to catch it before it slips away. “It was the day Isaac was born. I was alone and he was almost sleeping...Then the door opened and Haley was there.”

His brow furrows. “Haley?”

“Yeah...and I was confused for a second, but then that thing that happens in dreams happened where things just make sense and I kind of settled into it. She held Isaac and introduced herself to him and told him she was excited to meet him and I think she was crying a little. I dunno, it’s going away.”

“No, no,” he pushes, patting your thigh. “Keep going. What happened next?”

A little more comes to you then. “Oh!” Your voice, still quiet, grows a little more animated. “You came in with breakfast and she basically just snarked at you the whole time.”

He chuckles. “What did she say?”

“She said that you didn’t do anything but ‘stick it,’ and that you’re consistent because you brought me breakfast just like you did for her when she had Jack.”

He shifts, curling into your side, and coaxing you back under the covers with a hum. “I did do that, yeah. Both boys were born in the morning, so it just made sense, I guess.”

You pull his head to your chest and he wraps his arms around you.

There’s silence.

“You know, I really felt her that day.”

Your brow pinches. “What?”

“Haley,” he explains. “I felt like she was there the whole time, with us. With you.”

“Yeah.” You stretch at the shoulder, reaching into the crib to brush one of Isaac’s tiny fists. “I felt that, too.”

Aaron burrows further into you, his soft hair mussed in the extreme. “Come to bed.” It’s almost a whine.

With a sigh, you roll back over and tuck yourself into his chest, tangling your legs together. He kisses the top of your head and smothers you completely, holding you close. His hands trace endless patterns across your back under your shirt.

You close your eyes and try to summon her back, but it’s no use.

It's comforting to know, even in death, Haley comes and goes as she pleases, on nobody’s schedule but her own.

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @hotchsflower @ogmilkis @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @spencerelds @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @ceceguajardo-blog @baumarvel

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married.

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?”

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.”

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?”

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God.

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her.

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?”

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination.

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly.

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop.

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast.

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded.

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life.

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love.

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure.

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel.

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung.

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.”

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good.

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face.

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.”

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity.

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.”

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off. We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?”

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within.

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

---

Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week.

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously.

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text.

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change.

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone.

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan.

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now.

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else.

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January.

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong?

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe.

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows.

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?”

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud.

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him.

August 17 (tues

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice.

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor.

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.”

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.”

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all.

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.”

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed.

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?”

Pierre patted his jacket pocket. “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor.

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre-luc dubois #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #nhl #nhl imagines #pierre luc dubois

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septiembrre · 4 years ago

Note

Brio #4 a hug after not seeing someone for a long time pls

Ruby & Beth come back from a well-deserved vacation, at least 15 years overdue.

I really thought this was the easy prompt out of the bunch. I thought for sure this one would be just 500 words, a neat and contained ficlet. Oh well, it’s 3k.

I tagged some folks at the bottom, but just because I tagged you doesn’t mean you have to read it, but there’s a note for you down there in case you get around to it. I’m being a brat and posting too much and I know everyone’s busy with their week. Also, what is this hellish October?

Also here on AO3

-----

So I Come To You, My Love

Beth is itchy, impatient ever since they boarded the plane to go home. Or maybe since they made it to the airport… or rather, since she woke up before dawn, her mind racing with anticipation of her 11 am flight.

Ruby had gotten up, wandered somnolent into the kitchen for coffee, and promptly been accosted with the sight of Beth sitting at the kitchen table of their rental with her pile of suitcases fully packed and ready to go. Ruby had rolled her eyes to high heaven and asked aloud for patience.

At this point, Beth was too twitchy to be apologetic, the airport calling to her like a beacon from afar.

Ruby had known that it was only the beginning.

She had shaken her head as they flew along in their rideshare to the airport, Beth silent, taciturn, and unable to make any small talk with their cheerful driver asking them indulgent questions about their trip. She had rubbed Beth’s shoulder as Beth sighed, loudly, multiple times in the line for security, in line for boarding. She had watched as Beth’s eyes had darted to the time on her cell and tracked the clocks ticking on the airport walls.

Again, Ruby had prayed, Heavenly Father, please give me the patience and understanding to not harm Elizabeth Marks, my aforementioned best friend, on this eight-hour flight. Please bring us safely to our journey’s end.

Eventually, they settled on the plane and Ruby… Ruby needed a break. Beth and all of her fidgeting were giving her friend nervousness by osmosis. They should have anticipated it, of course. That this is how their fabulous, three-week, best-friend vacation was doomed to end -- in an anxious fizzle.

So, Ruby went about her process. She popped her ZzzQuil and put on her Nidra eye mask (or as Annie would say, “her eye bra”). Then, she wrapped herself up the plush blanket she had purchased for maximum airplane luxury, fully reclined her first-class seat, and adamantly went to sleep.

It’s in this purgatory that Beth finds herself waiting.

Waiting.

And still waiting.

At first, she tries to watch a movie, and it plays as told on the screen in front of her for two hours. She barely hears a word. Then, she tries to sleep, too.

But, no dice.

And she can’t exactly complain and blame it on the flying experience when she’s sitting in first class. The trip, an international vacation to France, had already been the fanciest thing Beth and Ruby had ever done. They had taken three weeks off from work to do it and that time was a luxury in itself. So, when Stan and Rio had combined husband-partner powers (HPP as Ruby and Beth had toasted to, giggling on the first flight across the ocean) and surprised them, upgrading their seats to first-class… It had been the cherry on top of the icing on the cake.

But, despite all the makings for premium comfort, Beth ends up bringing her seatback upright.

Instead, she passes the time, tapping her heel and staring off into space.

While she knows rationally it’s not true, it feels like the longest eight hours of her life. The last half of the flight stretches out before her but this experience certainly wasn’t as long as any of her births, or as stressful as even half of the situations they had gotten themselves into while criming these past four years.

But, Beth doesn’t ever really do well with prolonged absences from Rio. The anxiety of what it meant before -- ghosting, getting cleaved from the business -- is still something they are working to break from the patterns of their relationship, something Rio is still trying to unlearn as being his go-to answer to emotional conflict.

But, historically it had unfolded the other way around. There had never been a precedent of Beth being the one to smoke bomb out for a few weeks...

Of course, she wasn’t smoke bombing anywhere, slipping away into the ether. This was a long-planned vacation, months in the making, decades in the dreaming. There had been careful plotting to adjust the slack in the printing schedule and there had been deliberate calendering with the children’s summer activities. And well, Rio knew where to find her -- both where her rental was in Paris and where she more permanently lived (with him).

And it’s not like they hadn’t talked every morning and every night and sometimes in between of these past three weeks

God, she feels clingy and codependent and too much like her teenagers. Ruby had called Stan half as much.

And she’s still itchy.

…And kind of oily now?

She keeps scratching at a spot on one of her shoulders, at her palms, blotting at her face.

The people around her are going to think she has some sort of disease.

Except for Ruby, who knows.

So, Beth sits there, tapping, scratching, sighing into the void of time.

And it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise when a little more than halfway through the flight, Ruby’s hand emerges from its blanket cocoon to clamp down on Beth’s jiggling leg. Regardless, Beth all but levitates a foot into the air, gasping.

“Chill out.”

Beth takes a deep breath and tries her best.

Then, she blows out a raspberry. “I can’t.”

Ruby rips off her eye mask, sighing loudly. “You’re such a newlywed.”

“That’s the thing,” Beth says glumly. “We’re not even married.”

“Do you want to be?” Ruby looks over at her best friend, brow furrowed. And she wonders for the millionth time the question she won’t actually voice out loud, What did Rio’s dick do to her friend?

Beth looks back at Ruby, then her gaze shifts away, “No--” It comes out in upspeak, like a question and unsure. She swallows, and tries again, “No.”

Ruby widens her eyes at Beth who cringes, folding into herself. Then, Beth shifts anxiously in her seat, avoiding Ruby’s gaze. “No, I don’t really… care.” Then, Beth grimaces, realizing it obviously sounds like she cares.

“Oh-kay.”

“I just--” Beth starts defensively, “Three weeks has been a long time to be away from home.”

The trip was wonderful, a literal dream -- one they’ve dreamt of since high school. But, the three weeks have been a long time, for both of them.

Beth continues, “I’d do it again in a heartbeat but now that we’ve been, maybe two weeks next time.”

Ruby nods. “I can’t wait to see Stanley. Ugh, to hug Harry.” She hugs her own arms around herself picturing embracing her son. “Sara…” Ruby purses her lips. “Can stay at her photography camp.”

Beth rocks in to nudge her shoulder against Ruby’s, chiding. “You missed her.”

“Let’s just say that I’m glad I took the higher road and got her those damn macarons she wanted.”

“I’m glad we ended up doing that, too. The kids are going to be thrilled, especially Emma.”

Ruby shakes her head fondly. “I love that child. Forever my favorite nibling.”

“Yeah, well Sara is my favorite niece, so don’t be too hard on her.”

Ruby scoffs. “She’s your only niece.”

“And you know, she’s had weeks now to think about it. She’s probably feeling very sorry she said all those things before you left.” Beth consoles, reaching over to hold Ruby’s hand. “Knowing Stan, he’s probably worked his magic on her and you’ll go back and be a perfect family again.”

Ruby shakes her head, then turns against the seat to look at Beth, all charm, “So, who’s your favorite nephew?”

Now it’s Beth’s turn to scoff, “You know Annie would kill me if I didn’t say Ben.”

“Well, she’s not here.”

Beth rolls her eyes. “You know Benjamin is as perfect a child as they come. But, I never see him anymore. He’s always off with his friends and suddenly too old to hang out with his younger cousins, too cool to hang out with his favorite aunt-- and you know I’m not good with teenagers.” Beth shrugs. “And Harry’s eight and a mini version of Stan. It’s just not a fair fight.”

Ruby smiles, pleased, “I’m going to tell Annie.”

“You can’t tell Annie. I told you that under the assurance of secrecy.”

“Bitch, I didn’t give you no assurance.”

Beth sticks her tongue out at Ruby. Ruby scowls at her back. Then, they settle again.

“You have plans with gang boo? Oh, excuse me-- Christopher…” Ruby trills. “--Since you’re anxious as all get out.”

Beth arches back against the seat, fidgeting again. “I’m not anxious.”

Ruby levels her with a look.

“I’m not.”

There’s a beat where Ruby continues to stare at Beth, waiting. Beth rocks her jaw and looks away.

“Why don’t you just text him?”

“I already did when we got on the plane.”

“So… message him again?”

Beth cants her head low, letting her hair fall to obscure her face.

“He’s being… you know how he is.”

“I… do but I’m not sure I want to know what that means.” Ruby pauses, sitting with it. “Oh my god.” She clamps her hand down again, this time on Beth’s wrist. “Does he want you to take naked pictures in the bathroom?”

Beth tries to snatch her arm away, flailing in the seat.

“What if Delta sees your nudes?! Please, tell me you did not do that in that sardine box ten feet away from me, Elizabeth. Marks.”

“I didn’t. I would never.”

Someone a row over shushes them.

Ruby relinquishes her grip to press at her eyebrows. “Y’all are too much.”

Beth shrugs. “He really liked those caftans we bought at that boutique.”

Ruby considers that, thinking about how much she underestimated Christopher Aguilar’s capacity to love her friend. Sometimes it just really is too much to think about. “You got a special night planned?”

“No,” Beth says shortly.

“Mm.” Ruby nods along. “You know that man’s not going to let you out of bed, right?”

Beth flushes, squirming again in her seat. And she feels awkward talking about it, but, God, she hopes so?

“When are you picking up your kids again?”

“Tomorrow night.”

Ruby tsks and looks at Beth knowingly.

“You really don’t want to try to get some sleep? You’re gonna need it. Hell, I’m gonna need it and here you are keeping me up.”

Beth laughs shortly. “You’re one to talk about not getting out of bed. Stan literally wrote you an ode last week.”

Ruby smiles, something soft, small, and happy. “He was trying to compete with Paris.” Then she says, playful. “Almost twenty-five years of marriage and I still got it.”

Beth looks at her friend and opens her mouth looking for the words. She turns to search Ruby’s face and tries to be vulnerable.

Her voice comes out small and a little desperate, “Do you really think he missed me?”

Ruby snorts. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t show up in Paris to crash our trip. The man’s a genie. A genie with a lot of dinero.”

And it’s flattering, the image of Rio flying across the world to find her. Of course, he had stayed right where she left him -- in Detroit, in the middle of nailing down some business with one of his bars -- while she and Ruby fulfilled the dream they had for twenty years now.

It was... something, really something to be flush with cash, for all of the people she loved to be rolling in the riches, to have enough to afford anything she wanted. Security -- what a concept.

But, quickly enough she is so greedy. Beth is already calculating when it would be realistically feasible for her and Rio to take time off together for a trip of their own (maybe a beach this time).

Beth lets out a long, deep sigh.

“B, that man was glued to his phone for any and every picture or text you would send him about what you were doing. He woke up at some god awful time to tell you ‘Good Morning’ and cleared his schedule every day at 5 pm to call you at the end of ours. He missed you.”

She whispers. “I missed him, too.”

“I know,” Ruby says dryly. Suddenly, her hand flies up to push the button for the attendant.

Beth looks at Ruby nonplussed, as the attendant makes their way down the aisle to their seats.

Ruby eyes Beth sternly. “We still have two hours on this airplane and we are going to make the most of it. It’s still our vacation and you need to hold your shit together.”

Pep talk over, she smiles wide at the flight attendant and requests, “Two mimosas, please!”

----

It’s more than two mimosas. When their flight finally lands, Beth and Ruby don’t walk in the straightest line up the jet bridge.

They pause just out of their gate, a big sense of feeling bringing both of them to a standstill. Tipsy, relieved to be off the plane, and home again, vibrant in this feeling of togetherness with each other, they embrace.

“Thank you, friend.”

“I hate your face.”

“God, I never want to see your face again.”

They loosen their hold, dab at their wet eyes.

“Thank you for Paris.”

They tear up all over again.

-----

Once they make it out of their gate, Ruby and Beth stop to use the bathroom. Beth takes the opportunity to smooth out her hair, dab some cold water at her blotchy cheeks, and reapply some deodorant.

She thinks she’s going to jump out of her skin.

Ruby brushes her teeth, and Beth inspired does so, too. They apply lip balm on their chapped lips. Beth pinches color into her cheeks, as Ruby laughs, “He sees you on the daily first thing in the morning. Or do you pull a Midge Maisel on him?”

Beth sticks out her tongue.

As they get ready to move on and Ruby gets a call from Stan, who reports that they are there waiting outside of customs.

Beth all but runs to the international baggage claim, Ruby trailing behind her, watching her best friend with great amusement and a little secondhand embarrassment but she’s excited, too. They get in line at customs, and blessedly it isn’t long and they don’t have enough to declare. Quick enough, they’re buzzing through the doors that announce no return entry.

On the other side are escalators leading them up from the bottom-most level -- international arrivals only -- to the ground floor. Beth files in with her suitcases, behind Ruby.

And as they move further up the escalator, they can spot Stan and Rio waiting for them at the top.

Beth turns to Ruby, “Store on Monday?”

Who nods back, “Store on Monday.”

As they get closer, Beth drinks Rio in and something unsnarls in her soul. He’s in a black t-shirt, his jeans, and a pair of his typically sharp shoes -- dressed for Detroit in June. Her eye zero in on his ink, visible on his neck, the stretch of skin exposed on his arms, his hands clenched at his sides, the scruff on his face. Video has come a long way but, she’s relieved to see him in real detail. She’s relieved that in seconds she’ll be able to touch him, relieved to see that particular warm look in his eyes, the embers in person.

Beth can’t help it -- a smile stretches wide across her face. It really hasn’t been that long, she’s spent decades without him, but she feels giddy, goofy, effervescent. She could float right up to the top of the escalator, straight into his arms. But, gravity is real and she has to wait her turn.

Ruby walks off to greet her Stanley.

And Beth walks up to Rio. He reaches forward to pull her luggage to the side and she pauses in front of him. The magnetism of the inches between their bodies is electric, more dizzying than the champagne on the flight. He just looks so good.

He beams back at her, smiling wide. In the periphery of her vision, she can see his hands twitching.

And-- good.

Beth thinks she could fuck him now, drag him into a bathroom somewhere, but all she wants to do is kiss him.

So, she does.

She steps closer, brushing her nose with his (and doesn’t that feel new? And absurdly tender?). Her lips touch his. And God, it’s soft and she’s smiling into it, and he is, too. He tastes like the mint tea he probably had after lunch. And she has the brief thought that they’re so… dumb. He’s thirty-nine this year and she’s in her mid-forties and honestly, this is ridiculous for their age. It’s only been days and they had so much phone sex. But, this real-life thing, it feels so good.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect.

Rio curls his arms around her, smart hands sliding down to palm her ass as he brings her as close as possible. Her hands clutch the back of his neck, feeling the skin there, smelling the musky scent of his cologne, as they cling to each other. One of her hands wanders to trace the sharp prickliness of his buzz cut, and the other one of his twines along the nape of her neck. Heat curls deep in her core, flaring with the feel of him.

Eventually, they part for air. Beth nuzzles Rio’s scruff.

Rio laughs loud, head rolling back and shoulders shaking. Gorgeous.

“Baby,” he looks at her, biting his lip. “You taste like a bottle.”

Beth gasps, insulted. “I brushed my teeth!”

“Okay, champ.” He kisses her again, short this time. “You gonna be able to make it home?”

Then, she kisses him again, playfully pushing her tongue in his mouth. He’s panting when they part. And she can’t help it, she’s beaming.

“The question is, are you?”

-----

The fanfiction I read influences my writing so much. The intertextual winks that stood out to me in this one:

@sothischickshe -- genie word choice ;-)

@foxmagpie for the word ‘CANT’? Girl, were you the first person to wordsmith this? I think you were and it’s the perfect description for half the things Rio does with his jaw. This time I appropriated it for Beth.

#nbc good girls #beth x rio #brio #my writing

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retroateez · 4 years ago

Text

Prophecy - Chapter Sixteen

words; 2729

prophecy masterlist

tag list; @hewwo-from-the-other-side

"What are you doing?"

The book crashes heavily onto the stone floor, your arms darting out in a panicked effort to catch it. Hopelessly, you watch as it clatters loudly, though as it hits the ground, it falls shut, not allowing the intruder to see the contents of the page.

"Iris? What are you doing down here?"

You peek upwards, and you see the confused figure of San standing before you, bewildered.

But you can't answer him, all too consumed by the fizzling feeling darting through your body. The burning from before simmering to a halt like a cauldron taken away from roaring flames. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy, a weight pressing down on your chest rendering you in tears.

"Oh gods," San mumbles and rushes to your figure, mimicing your own position of sitting on your knees. "Oh gods, oh gods."

You kneel, trembling and yet somehow completely motionless opposite San.

"Iris?" he calls to you gently. "Can I touch you?"

You don't register the movement, but you assume you must've nodded, as San slowly reaches out and places both of his palms on your cheeks, lifting your head up and forcing your streaming eyes to look into the concerned, inky wells of his own.

"Breathe slowly, okay? Slowly... There you go." San slows his own breathing down, allowing you to match the rhythm and soothe the manic pace your lungs were working at.

A few minutes pass, and your breathing returns to it's original pace. San is still sat across from you, his hands in his lap as he waits for you to explain what on earth just happened.

"I'm so tired of feeling useless..." you frown, and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly to your body. "It's my fault everybody is involved in this mess, and they only let me help when they need it.

"I thought maybe... maybe if I learnt something useful and showed them that I am capable then they would be forced to listen to me." Sniffling, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

"I know how you feel." San sighs, and you study his frown. His cold, defensive demeanour from the last few weeks melting away and being replaced with a sadder, vulnerable version of him.

"I know that I'm the court jester," he continues. "But I'm more than just jokes and silly costumes. I can do much more than that, and... and I wish people would let me prove that to them."

"It isn't fair." You whine.

"Life isn't fair." San agrees.

"You won't... tell anyone about this, will you?" You ask timidly after a few moments silence.

"Were you doing anything bad?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Just studying." You weren't technically lying. Just concealing the truth.

"Alright," San nods. "I won't say anything. But I better not catch you doing it again."

He stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees, then extends a rough palm out towards you. Gratefully, you take it, quickly bundling up Yunho's book and clutching it to your chest to conceal it from San's view.

"I hope you're prepared for the ball tomorrow," San says suddenly. "If your dancing is as shocking as it was the other day then there's zero hope for you."

"I'll be fine. Wooyoung'll teach me how to dance."

San rolls his eyes and shrugs, telling you that he'll see you around and that you should go to bed before somebody else catches you. You watch him leave, peering at his raven black hair bouncing as he walks until he was finally out of view.

It's not until you hear the distance clunk of the door closing that you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. You grip slackens on the book and your arm muscles sigh in relief. Letting go of the book, you study your right hand curiously, turning it over to examine your palm and fingers, trying to remember the fizzing feeling in your blood.

The tingling had stopped now, only the tiniest remnant of power was left in your body, slowly dissipating until it disappeared entirely. Never in your life had you expected to feel something like that, something so exciting and yet so dangerous. Staring down at your outstretched hand, you imagined red hot trails of angry, bubbling lava, slowly seeping into the crevices between your fingers and wrapping down your wrist, crawling down the expanse of your forearm.

It felt... good.

But nobody else can know, you remind yourself. If Yunho found out you stole his book, he'd kill you. If Yeosang found out you were learning magic, he'd kill you. You didn't want to think about what Wooyoung would do.

You figured that anybody detecting magic from the castle wouldn't be a problem, concluding that there's no way you'll be able to produce any substantial power that could be detected. Yeosang had told you that anybody could do magic, but only certain people could wield the chaos enough to do any damage. There was no way you would be able to do that. Besides, you were teaching yourself, so there's definitely no chance of anyone being able to rat you out.

You tuck the book under your arm, and start the quiet creeping back to your room.

Nobody will catch you. You won't let them.

-----

"I really don't- Ow! I really don't see why I have to wear this ghastly thing." You grunt in pain as the poor woman behind you tugs harshly at your outfit.

She's got a foot on your lower back and she yanks at the strings of the corset that is built into your - admittedly, very beautiful - dress. It is an incredibly elegant, sky blue silk gown that grazes the wooden floor beneath you. Complete with flowing sleeves that end past your fingertips, made of a crystal blue, sheer material that makes you feel like a princess of a fairy kingdom in a land very, very far from Ateez.

The sheer fabric also lays atop the baby blue silk of the skirt, with small, rose pink butterflies sewn into them at various points. The bodice is tightly laced both at the front and the back, luckily the neckline doesn't sweep too low, only showing your collarbones.

"Because, His Majesty says you have to." The woman, named Callonetta, tells you. "Besides, you look wonderful in this dress."

She's right too. You do look amazing in the gown, but you frown at yourself as you catch your own gaze in the mirror ahead of you. Inspecting your right arm, clad in ocean blue sleeve, and admiring how serene your blood feels compared to the way it was angrily boiling not even a whole day ago. Your gaze falls onto one of the light pink butterflies stitched to the bodice, the way it's wings have been poised make it look like its about to take flight, rip its tiny little legs free of its string prison and soar out the open window.

But of course, it can't. Because it isn't real, it's fake body pinned down to the bodice and you imagine it wriggling and writhing in pain as the seamstress pushes her needle into its frail wings. Such pain caused only to look beautiful. Totally restricted, unable to live life the way it was intended to be; free, happy, uncontrolled.

Another sharp jerk of the bodice strings from behind snaps your attention back to the mirror, allowing you to survey yourself properly.

Your hair, braided tightly and pinned back to form a crown around the base of your skull, with small curls pulled out to frame the sides of your face. Tied together with a sparkling silver circlet, the sides hidden under the expanse of hair, the metal twisting together to form a intricate design that presses against your forehead. In the center, encased in silver, is a single, circular sapphire that glitters in the candlelight everytime you move. Small, yet detailed silver leaves surround the gorgeous gem, and you even notice tiny, metal roses trailing up the sides of the circlet and disappearing underneath your hair.

You wonder if the late Queen had a tiara or crown as impressively beautiful as your circlet.

"The circlet belonged to Her Majesty," Callonetta informs you suddenly, as if she could read your thoughts. "This was the one she wore when she and the King announced the birth of King Hongjoong."

You could imagine how graceful Hongjoong's mother had looked. Radiant from the miracle of childbirth, tired yet still regal and proud of her newborn son. Sapphire circlet glistening in the rainbow coloured light of the main hall.

"What about this dress?" You whisper.

Somehow, you couldn't picture the Queen wearing a gown such as this. Sure, it was stunning, but for a Queen, much too simple. And yet you couldn't ignore the definitive lack of women in the castle, Callonetta and the cook being the only two you had met thus far.

"Heavens no," Callonetta scoffs, throwing her messy, ginger plait over her shoulder as she refocuses her attention on tying your bodice, "This dress was made for you specifcally. His Majesty has a personal tailor, he will refuse to wear anything made by anyone else."

Your face flushes at that, an embarrasing, startling shade of pink that puts the butterflies on your dress to shame.

"The tailor is renowned for his work," she continues, "All his garments have his printed emblem inside the back of the neckline, a small, roaring bear. Nobody knows why he chose a bear of all things, but it certainly is striking."

Your mind is cast back to the bear at the inn you and Yeosang stayed at on the journey to Wooyoung's. It all seemed so long ago now.

“Did you hear that?” you whisper to Yeosang.

“It’s just a bear.” He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep.

"A bear?” you hiss.

“I know,” he says sarcastically. “Un-bear-lieveable.”

You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.

“That was a terrible joke.” you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.

“Whatever,” Yeosang yawns. “just go to sleep, we’ll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest.”

Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you’ll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He’s wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it’s just a dream; he’ll be okay. You hope.

You think about that bear more often that you'd like to admit, imagining his large, brown eyes, watery with pain and the wounded yelping haunted your dreams.

A final, squeezing tug of the laces and Callonetta sighs in relief. She tells you that you're ready for the ball, and that you should wait in the dressing room until somebody comes to get you. Before you can ask who, or when, she hurries out of the door and you hear her shuffling quickly down the stone hallway.

Once again, you stare miserably at yourself in the mirror, wishing that you could attend the ball in your typical white shirt and plain black breeches.

Maybe Wooyoung is right though, perhaps the ball will bring some enjoyment into your life, away from all the secrets and worrying and death.

You suspect that nobody will be coming to get you for quite some time, so you perch yourself at the window seat opposite the mirror. Reaching under the cushions, you retrieve Yunho's book, which you expertly hid before Callonetta arrived.

Flicking through the pages, you spot the spell you learnt yesterday and your heart freezes between your ribs. Holding your breath, you decide to ignore that one, and flip the pages eagerly. Eventually, you come across a double page spread that piques your interest. You can't decipher Yunho's messy drawing of the hand movements this time (perhaps for the best), but you can make out his scrawled handwriting of 'circular' just below it.

"Aevon bleidd." you whisper aloud, the language feeling foreign on your tongue.

After repeating the phrase multiple times, you realise you must have nailed the pronounciation as there's a dull pounding in your skull, and your fingertips are turning a concerning shade of blue. From your nails all the way down to the tip of your elbow, you feel a travelling freezing feeling flowing through your veins like a great and powerful river. Your veins pulsate a vivid blue, much like the way Yeosang's thundered with lightening the first time you met him.

“I’m a mage,” he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. “You see those blue lines? They’re called veins, and our blood runs through these.”

You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.

“In mine, flows blood as well as chaos,” he explained. “Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you’re taught by the right people.”

Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.

“But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it.” Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.

Snapping the book shut abruptly, you clutch your forearm to your chest and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. This is wrong, you think. Everything about this is wrong. Is magic supposed to feel this way? Make your insides wriggle and writhe and struggle in a desperate attempt to become your outsides? Yeosang had said only certain people had the ability to properly wield chaos into magic, did this mean that you were one of those people?

Ordinary peoples veins didn't stream like rivers.

Ordinary peoples blood didn't burn like fire.

Stuffing the book back between the cushions, you stare out of the window at the castle gardens below. Despite spending the majority of your time amoungst the flowers, it is only from up in the window you notice the penstemons - beardtongues, representative of bravery - arranged to spell 'HJ'.

It was surreal, your life, when you truly sat down to think about it. How barely a handful of months ago you were just a poor, lowly thief stealing bread to make it through the day, and now here you were, sitting in a dressing room within the castle of the most powerful kingdom on the planet, wearing a dress and jewels so expensive you felt dizzy at the thought.

Surrounded by elves, mages, kings, bards, magic and with all of those came danger.

A light tapping on the door, then the creaking of the door slowly opening catches your attention, and you look over to see a very proud looking kingsguard.

"I must say little thief," Seonghwa glides towards you with a small smile on his perfect face, watching you attentively through his narrow eye, the other eye obstructed by his hair. "You do scrub up incredibly well."

Hopping off the window seat, you offer Seonghwa a grin of your own. His hair, as always, is not a single bit out of place, shiny black and hanging over his left eye. Uniform pristine and blacker than the night sky, with various medals and badges pinned to each breast.

"I could say the same about you, sire." You mockingly sweep down into a curtsey, and Seonghwa scoffs.

"Enough joking around," he says seriously. "Are you ready to go? His Majesty is just finishing his preparations, you must take your seat at the head table before he arrives."

Your blood runs cold, sudden panic sprinting through your body, and you're not sure whether this feeling is worse than the spells or not.

You nod, ignoring the anxieties, trusting Wooyoung's words and making a silent pact with yourself to have a good time.

"Excellent." Seonghwa holds his arm out to you, and with a final smirk leads you towards the door.

"Your elven prince awaits, m'lady."

hi! sorry this took so long to get out, things have been very busy lately! thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed! once again, the language for the spell is taken from the witcher 3′s elder speech!

#hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #san #wooyoung #mingi #jongho #yunho #retroateez #medieval!ateez #ateez #kpop #ateez au #ateez x reader

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years ago

Text

Drops of Jupiter

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1,810

Warnings: minor mentions of psychological abuse in relationships, fluff at the end

Summary: You finally reutrn home after a longtrip around the world. You miss your best friend, but he may miss you more.

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Squares Filled: drops of jupiter by train for spnsongbingochallenge (2019 card) // road trip for @spngenrebingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in!

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

One thing I hate doing is saying goodbye to the love of my life. She doesn’t know she’s the love of my life, but it’s not like I can just tell her that. She has big dreams to travel the world and experience many cultures and try different kinds of food from their native place. I’m stuck on the set of Supernatural, and while I love my job with all of my heart, it kills me that I can’t give her what she wants.

Each time she comes back, she’s changed in some way, but I know the woman I fell for is still underneath all the tan skin and sun-kissed hair. I want to tell her to stay with me, but how can I take away her dreams? I'm nobody, and I can’t give her the world right now. I can give her my world, but I don’t think she wants that.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere With drops of Jupiter in her hair, hey, hey She acts like summer and walks like rain Reminds me that there's a-time to change, hey, hey Since the return of her stay on the moon She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey, hey Hey, hey

She’s finally back. We stopped filming for the week since the director needed to go to the hospital where his family is. I offered to direct, but he had a set vision for these next few episodes that production will pick back up when he gets back. Y/N is back in town, and I know she’s going to tell me all about how she loved the places she visited. I offered to meet her at a coffee shop, which is where I’m heading now. I can’t wait to see her even if she might be a different person.

She’s there when I arrive, and I can’t help but stare at the person she’s become. Is it weird all I see is the girl I grew up with? The girl that used to invite me to her sleepovers because I didn’t have many guy friends of my own? I wasn’t allowed to sleep in her room per her parent’s request, but that didn’t stop her from coming to me. We all slept in the living room because she didn’t want me feeling left out.

Now she’s here, and I can see the physical change. She looks brighter, happier, and I wonder if meeting me was something she felt like she had to do. Her hair is brighter, her skin is darker, and she wears the clothes from her many journeys across the world. She looks warm and bright, but all I can think about is how graceful and beautiful she can be. She resembles rain for being so delicate and gentle.

“Jensen!” she calls my name once she sees me. I force a smile on my face and head over to her. I give her a tight hug, and I can tell she’s lost a lot of weight. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not.

“Wow, you look amazing,” I compliment as we take out seats.

“I would hope so. I didn’t spend a whole week at Barbados for nothing,” she laughs. She immediately digs in deep about where she’s been and what she’s been doing, and I try my best to listen to her. All I can focus on is how dreamy she looks when she talks of these places.

She would never want to stay here in Vancouver with me. Why would she when she’s experienced the world?

But tell me did you sail across the sun Did you make it to the Milky Way to see the lights all faded And that heaven is overrated?

“Are you happy?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” she wonders and takes a bite of the salad she ordered when she got here.

“Is the world everything you thought it would be?”

“And more!” she exclaims. “I never thought I would ever see such beautiful landmarks! I mean the beaches are so clear, the people are so nice, and the food is delicious! I don’t know why I didn't do this sooner!”

She tells me all the reasons she loves traveling, but she never mentions the people she’s with. I know she went on her own, but she must have made friends along the way. All I’m hearing about is nature and how good the food is. That’s no way to travel. I’ve tried going to places by myself, and it’s never as fun as going with someone I love. It’s why I love going to conventions with Jared, Misha, and the rest of the cast. It’s about making memories with the people you love, not about the places you visit.

She can be just as happy here with me if she can only see I’m the one she should be with.

Tell me did you fall from a shooting star One without a permanent scar And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?

I’m nowhere near perfect, but I think I can offer a lot more than she’s expecting. I have a great job if she’s interested in money (which I know she isn’t). I make her laugh, which is kind of important, in my opinion. I see the pictures she posted on her social media, and the smile she shows is not nearly as big as the one she has when I’m with her.

I feel as if she looks at the world through a corrected lense, and only sees what she wants to see. I’m real, I’m here, and I have scars that will be there for the rest of my life--emotional and physical. There are no lenses that can cover them up. I don’t know if that’s what scares her, but I don’t know how to tell her that these scars made me a better person.

Did she even miss me while she was out there, living her life? Did she meet guys and have fun with them while I’m back here wishing I was with her? Can’t she see how much this is affecting me? Or does she not care at all?

Now that she's back in the atmosphere I'm afraid that she might think of me as Plain ol' Jane, told a story about a man who is too afraid to fly so he never did land

While I have been around the world for conventions, I don’t really have any experiences from those countries. I go there, talk in front of groups, maybe sing, and then it’s off to the next country. I don’t really get time to myself to explore and make my own memories. Does Y/N think I’m too boring for her? Does she want someone as adventurous as her? I can be adventurous, but my job comes first. Supernatural is ending soon, so maybe after I’ll have some time for myself. Will she still be here when it’s over?

I guess the one thing I’m afraid of is her traveling, meeting new people, and telling them of me--the guy she knew back home who is too afraid to actually do something with my life. I don’t see myself as that kind of guy, but whenever she rolls into town, I can’t help but see that. Will I ever be good enough for her?

Can you imagine no love, pride, deep-fried chicken Your best friend always sticking up for you Even when I know you're wrong Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance Five-hour phone conversation The best soy latte that you ever had, and me

“Did you even miss me at all?” I blurt out, interrupting her story of how she went surfing with strangers she met in Australia.

“What?” she asks, her voice softening.

“You know, you travel all around the world, and I am so happy for you. I am so unbelievably happy for you that you get to do what you’ve always dreamed of doing. But don’t you miss me? I sure as hell miss you. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I don’t think I can do this anymore, Y/N.

“Don’t you miss having deep-fried chicken with me in my trailer? How we challenge each other who can finish the bucket first without throwing up? Don’t you miss the way I stick up for you in arguments I know you’re wrong? I still do it anyway because I love the way you smile and giggle when you’ve won.

“Don’t you miss the way we would dance together at Supernatural parties. That first dance when your heart pounds in excitement and nerves? What about the five-hour phone conversations we would have when we couldn’t sleep at night? You know, I haven’t heard your voice in over seven months because you’re up with I’m sleeping and vice versa.

“Don’t you miss the way I would bring you your soy latte that I know you like? I never got it wrong, and I don’t think people in Italy or Russia knows you the way I do. You can travel around the world and see all these great places, but they don’t have me. Don’t you miss me? Because I miss you every damn second of my life, and it kills me to see you so happy without me.”

“Jensen,” she whispers as a tear fell from her eye. I fear I’ve gone too far and ruined whatever we had left, but she gets up and joins me on my side of the booth.

“I miss you more than you realize. These places are no fun without you. That’s why I try to do all these fun things so I can forget how much I miss you. But, I stay alone in my hotel room every night and just cry because you’re not there next to me. It’s why I left early and came back. I don’t want to do this without you.”

“I can't go anywhere until filming is done. I have conventions in the summer, the cast and I need to go to.”

“It doesn’t matter. Anywhere with you is an adventure. You are what makes it fun. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner, but I’m realizing it now. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I struggle to get out because of how emotional I am. I waste no time and cup her cheeks. She meets me halfway, and I finally get to feel what her lips are like, how soft they can be, and what they taste like. The woman I used to know is coming out of her shell, and I’m proud of myself for finding her. She is nowhere near done experiencing the world, but she’ll wait for me to see the rest.

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@flamencodiva @pisces-cutie @wingedcatninja @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @kiwihoee @thefaithfulwriter @li-ssu @babypink224221 @winchesterweirdo @jennazeise @calaofnoldor @emoryhemsworth @miraclesoflove @xxboesefrauxx @kendall-michele @winchest3rbros @nahigm @sandlee44 @bluedazefangirl @a--1--1--3 @paintballkid711 @musiclovinchic93 @mrspeacem1nusone @essie1876 @thelazywitchphotographer @notyourtypicalrose @fuckwby @gh0stgurl @sing4mejensen @redsalv20 @superrandomnatural @scarletmeii @mizzezm @gaveherhearttotheliontattoo @akshi8278 @miraclesoflove @fandom-princess-forevermore @katherine097 @phantomalchemist @posiemax @tricksterdean @fallingintovoids @countrygal17a

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theholycovenantrpg · 4 years ago

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CONGRATULATIONS, EMMA! YOU’VE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF DMITRI.

Admin Cas: There’s something so tragic about Dmitri that I love: everything about him is a contradiction. Yet, for all his love and light, he’s also really quite terrifying, and the way you balanced both of those aspects of their character was truly breathtaking, Emma. I thought your reflections on the idea of Dmitri as a sort of wingless angel was especially impressive. In spite of all the things that make them angelic, they can never truly be one with God’s angels. That, after all, is what sets him apart from their brethren; where they are ruination, he is its saving grace. I put this golden prince in your hands without fear that you’ll do wonderful things with him, and I can’t wait to see the directions you’ll go together! Please create and send in your account, review the information on our CHECKLIST, and follow everyone on the FOLLOW LIST. Welcome to the Holy Land!

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Emma.

Age | 21+.

Personal Pronouns | She/Her.

Activity Level | I’m able to get a reply or two out at least once daily; depending on length, it could potentially be more or less than.

Timezone | Eastern.

Triggers | REMOVED.

How did you find the group? | LSRPG tag.

Current/Past RP Accounts | I delete my character accounts to create a blank blog for my next character account. I save snippets of threads I adore, so I’m so sorry. RIP - xoxo

IN CHARACTER

there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all and it takes control of the person that i thought i was the boy i used to know.

CHARACTER

Dmitri , the Horsemen of Conquest

DRAW TO CHARACTER

I’ve never been the type to write a sample for a character before fleshing out the other bits first, but Dmitri’s voice whispered, begging to be explored as soon as I read their biography. The first sample you’ll read below was the initial picture I painted and kept throughout this application because Dmitri resembled that of a poor Icarus, who simply overindulged in something not meant for him to enjoy.

I imagined Dmitri in the seconds after creation gasping at the sights of Heaven, reaching back for white wings — only to be met by their bareback. Shoulders aching for the flight of angels, the purity evident in their veins to be his own, God’s presence given at a moments notice.

Yes — I very clearly drew these small, delicate details from a few lines, but Cas wrote this character in such a way I felt the weight of Dmitri’s needs as if they were my own to be met. The biography held me captive to do whatever would be in my ability to give this character justice for what they were never gifted. I still get butterflies reading over the biography and couldn’t stop what followed.

This application is my confession of love for Dmitri, and I would even offer to say this could be read as a fever dream because isn’t that what God would want? His beloved, lastly mad Horsemen to be written in a state of complete and total euphoria for conquest and recklessness… but more importantly, I hope to show how beautifully flawed this character is to desire to be loved by a dead God, and the journey I would take them on to realize their purpose was never tied to God’s needs.

FUTURE PLOTS

SUMMARY: I’ve written these in a format of progression based on what I think could occur first in-game based off of current connections, and Dmitri’s direct link of being a Horsemen, making it far more likely to push said plot first. Each builds upon the other in a sense of a video game character skill branching system. As in, I’ve written some answers or may propose them in a way, which would directly change a plot below it. Hope this helps explain the mess which is about to occur below!

FUTURE OF THE HORSEMEN

what happens to those who were meant to end a world already destroyed?

Their purpose set forth to them by God has come to no fruition as the world destroyed itself, at least in a way. Each Horsemen dealing with their new identity as a mercenary in their own way, but I can only speak from the perspective of Dmitri. When it comes to them, the Horsemen are family. They came from the same Gos as them, shaped from different moments but important just the same. Their future as a whole could be explored by each Horsemen’s motivation. For Dmitri, the idea of leaving them to go elsewhere seems far-fetched at first; a type of daydream when the cleanup after a job is too heavy to stay focused on. If given a bigger glimpse at something else, something Dmitri could find himself desiring to do, I imagine the Horsemen could find a strain.

FUTURE OF THE HEALING

what is the purpose of being one of healing if you watched the wounds be inflicted?

Building upon a strain forming within the Horsemen, Dmitri would first need to experience something so terrifyingly out of character for them to do, which could trigger a wave of events to follow. The concept of using their healing ability seems to be the “fun” direction as this golden boy not being able to save someone caught in the crossfires would be an angst ridden thread to experience. I want to shape his tenderness in a way to correlate with his healing. Dmitri’s process of healing someone is something I haven’t ventured much into yet — but I imagine the sight of it to be something beautiful, almost too beautiful to fully understand what you’re looking at. This light bringer among those who only bring darkness is the difference enough to push the first plot and this one forward.

FUTURE OF THE LOVED AND WORSHIPPED

what does one do with love and praise when all they expected was hate?

Imagine the first time someone witnessed Dmitri healing a mortal. Who was it? What occurred? No one who lives now among the mortals knows, yet their growing affection towards him makes me feel as if he’s gotten his own personal tale passed between them. Here in this new found love among men, I think Dmitri sees what he’s always wanted out of life, rather existence. It’ll be such a wild ride of secret trips to different parts of the world to see if he finds this love and praise everywhere. He’d be drunk over this, but there also comes the dark side of being given something kept from you for so long. Yes, I would love for this beautiful, precious Horsemen to ride happily off into the sunset… but there’s definitely some trauma left from God. Here within this, I find Dmitri’s breaking point could take place and all of the above could shatter.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | yes — given a month’s notice and option to decline? i feel as if the answer would be different depending on how they were to die and character development, if this makes sense.

IN DEPTH

but there is a lightin the dark, and i feel its warmth

in my hands and my heart why can't i hold on?

CHARACTER MOTIVATION

It’s unknown at first- their motivation. Perhaps, God always intended the existence of those who were meant to cause the end of the world to possess no motivation. Life to them, the Horsemen, was simply a story already written down in the stars, yet Dmitri walked out into the New World with the story finished and no part to play in it. Purgatory had warped their glowing essence, satisfying God’s need to prevent prayers said to Conquest over the God of Creation.

Yet motivations can still be rather fickle when they were never intended for you. Dmitri’s creation came from the infinite love God felt for man, yet they were never meant to have this (this being love) as their backbone. No, they were to indulge their fellow Horsemens’ wrath by mending the blows they were destined to cause. Their gift, their healing, their voice. All things given by God to serve a purpose not their own. Somewhere between all of the havoc and chaos of this world, there had to come a time where Dmitri sought to figure it out.

Their motivation laid rotting within the crevices of darkness and filth they called home all these centuries. Purgatory did it’s job more so than God could have ever intended because Dmitri struggled with purpose outside of God’s. Sunshine filled his veins in a way the darkness fed off of and merely left the Horsemen of Conquest bare. So walking out of, rather escaping from, Purgatory to Dmitri awakened this desire for answers. With the death of God, Dmitri discovered their rebirth into something rather ungodly as he wanted to become everything God never intended on him to be: loved.

From this death, Dmitri has discovered a solace with mortals he’d never found with the fellow Horsemen as there’s something to be said in regards to being made last. He didn’t resemble the others completely as he felt a mirror to man more so than his Horsemen. I imagine actions and motivation for him to be teetering currently as his own questions in the regards of ‘what’s next?’ as having a calling as a mercenary never sat well with him. He wants to be loved in a way God had left unspoken between them over the possibility of competition.

SUMMARY: Throughout interactions and inner thoughts expressed throughout this roleplay, I would love to dive into the future plots tying into Dmitri’s motivations above with the balance of being deemed as loved or worshipped. Dmitri needs to be loved, yet I think if it ever rocked towards him being worshipped, it’d be a nice little shift of what truly motivates him. Overall, I find my motivating factor to be Dmitri’s voice and relationships with the Horsemen due to my overall understanding of how much he truly values them. Yes, he’s always wanted more for himself, but there’s always going to be the glimpses of why he is among their ranks. He isn’t pure as the angels or as mischievous as the demons, but I find Dmitri’s complexities something of value as a character in a world without restraints.

IN-CHARACTER PARA SAMPLES

i. DREAMS AND THE HEREAFTER

‘Icarus, my son — your wings are too brittle for the warmth of light. Now, I shall watch you burn with the rest.’ Or was the name spoken across the lips of God dmitri? Did he curve the appetite of man’s undeserving love of their creator by existing? Were his screams - for more - not enough to make the tear from God’s eye a regret?

‘But father, I shall fly with you. We can escape together. No mortal shall ever have to look upon our faces again. We can finally be--’ Scorned brow silenced all of his pleas, bringing the truth to the forefront. Dmitri dreamed before the tear was ever caught and molded into the literal form of his being. They knew of themself from the perspective of God’s eye and convinced themself of something which wasn’t there. ‘Am I never to be free of this burden then? Am I to suffer?’

They painted a world where they crawled from the depths of Purgatory, where their strength came from the purity of man, where God Himself welcomed Dmitri back into Heaven as if he’d never gone. In this recurring dream, God would realize the mistake to tuck away his most prized creation.

The final Horsemen did not deserve the caverns of impermeable darkness Purgatory supplied them because somewhere in the infinite of his existence, he truly believed himself to bare wings.

‘Suffer? Suffer! You are the brilliance of life; my creation. Do you wish to know what I plan to do with you? Follow me, Conquest. Your domain awaits.’

Their eyes open with horror, memories of a man - rather a god who loved him less. A god who created him by mistake. An outstretched arm from active slumber finds its way back onto their chest, an unsteady rise and fall of breaths lost. His own torment from sleep a self-given punishment as he allowed himself to fall into the corners of his own mind. The hidden doors which locked memories long forgotten as he believed himself to be more than he was.

God regretted shedding a tear for out came the brightest of shadows, the technicolor snake of dispute in the form of a golden angel. They were truly no closer than their brethren to bearing wings, but if one deserved them, Dmitri would declare themself so.

Instead of wings, however, cascading down their back, you would find a seeping hole of nothing; a hollowed out mine of what could have become of them. It is the wickedness they hide beneath enchanting smiles, minor suggestions, and lack of resolve which will keep their back bare. Denial being a sort of game which they’ve mastered over the years.

Once, one might have spotted the prospect of gold, sinless existence within them, but they were not created like the other angels, the other horsemen, the other fallen. They were made as the result of emotion, and one knew what followed closely with emotions — mistakes or rather the sins of man.

They were the rotten cavities created over years of divulging in sweets, buried in the crevices of newborn teeth who hadn’t the taste of sugar.

And in their devastation, Dmitri destined themself to find the answers which God withheld from them.

ii. DENIAL IN THE FORM OF SINFUL BEAUTY

“You’re late — again.” A simple nod towards either Nerissa or Viktoria felt enough to find his place among his family, his fellow Horsemen.

One thumb found its way to his temple before releasing a heavy sigh. “Dreams haunt me recently.

“You mean nightmares.” Nerissa could never resist correcting him over something so miniscule as words, yet this simple exchange caused a growing irritation to sprout wings and turn into complete rage.

His temples tensed, nostrils flared with fingernails already cutting at the skin of his palm. “You honestly think I’m mortal enough to switch the meaning of two words, War?” Tongue pressed against the back of their teeth, Dmitri allowed their body to sink into their assigned chair, of sorts. Each had a place within the others home as if each home belonged to all four of them collectively.

“Someone woke up feeling out of place again.” Always Ryuk with a quick word before letting the storm brew on.

“It’s the dreams — I wake up in horror over...” Their eyes, washed in an array of gold, scanned the softness of their palms, the lack of scars on their flesh, the harrowing displacement of havoc in their words, and the deficiency of darkness their fellow Horsemen possessed. “...for it is the dream I can never grasp.”

With the unblemished palm, he wiped away at both of their eyes, trying to remove the hints of sleep behind them. More importantly, he wanted more than anything to remove any attempt of truth being proven by Nerissa’s words.

Harsh snarled laughter came from the corner of their domain, mocking their spiral for something less than what it was. To Dmitri, they saw these dreams as something more of an awakening, uncovering their last moments with God.

“What is the point of man if not to suffer, dear Dmitri?”

“But I am no man!” Fists shattered the monotony of the discussion, calling in the last ounce of sanity any of them could take as they stood from the table. “I am no god.” The once golden irises, which mirrored the glory of the sun’s warmth, now mimicked the lava spewing from a devastating volcano. “I am Conquest, and I shall suffer no more!”

Here in the brilliant, pure light of their anger, their risen voice, the very might of their denial gave birth to something else.

A soft chuckle from the other side of the room destroyed any build up between the others as Viktoria waltzed over to them.

“He’s not wrong… None of us are man, so none of us shall suffer.” Viktoria’s hand draped over theirs with a tenderness they’d only felt from the mortals, but it was enough to show Dmitri the horsemen had the ability to give him what he wanted.

#accepted #accepted: dmitri

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idasjacksoni · 4 years ago

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I have never been tagged in anything before, so I hope I do this right

I have been tagged by the wonderful @jancox to create an album wall using this website. I have to admit this one was really hard for me to do, since I don’t listen to albums or certain artists for that matter. I just listen to a bunch of random songs that I think sound cool and then they get put into one of my over 70 playlists on spotify (I actually counted them). But I was able to wreck my brain enough to present you with seven albums, that I really enjoy.

- The Original Hadestown Brodway Recording is on this wall because I think it’s a wonderful musical arrangement and I get to listen to an entire musical without having to look up “sLiMe TuToRiAlS” on youtube. Sure the visual is missing but I'm a creative person so I manage. Also this Musical has everything: From jazzy songs, that make you wanna get up and do the Charleston to heartbreaking ballads, that make you bawl. And considering that the musical is a tragedy and is entirely based on a story in greek mythology, that always ends bad.... yeah I may have shed a few tears over this.

- Blue Neighboorhood. Man I remember this. Back when the WILD Ep was out and way back when Troye Sivan was nothing but a Youtuber with big dreams. I am really proud of how far he has come, but then again I love coming back to this once in a while. These songs strike a nerve with me, even nowadays in 2020 and at 22 years old. I especially love HEAVEN on this album, mainly because it’s about Troye openly saying, that if he can’t get into heaven because of his sexuality, he doesn’t want to go. And this really opened my eyes and made me feel okay about having gay feelings, while still doing voluntary work in the church and believing in god (at least at the time).

- I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning is an incredible feel good indie album, full of meaningful, albeit sometimes nonsensical, lyrics and the strumming of guitars. So your everyday indie album right? Well yeah, but that’s why I like it. When I think of Indie, Bright Eyes and this album especially are the first things that come to mind. Not to mention, that the song Lua always reminds me of Life is Strange, specifically Chloes room during the morning. And you can bet that almost all of these songs are in my morning playlist. They just fit so well, y’know?

- PTX Vol III. This one is purely here because I used to be a huge Pentatonix fan. So much so, that the first concert I have ever been to was the one in Bavaria during the On My Way Home Tour. And Bavaria is a 7 hour car drive away from where I lived during the time and I was 16... But I made it and it was magical. I remember how flashed I was afterwards and how I couldn’t sleep due to the adrenaline. My God there was so much personal drama surrounding that concert though, but yeah. I still think, that Pentatonix makes awesome music and I admire their way of making acapella arrangements that can hold a candle to the original. My favourite song on here is probably See Through. Not only because Mitch is the lead, but also because the arrangement sounds really intricate and the lyrics are sensual as hell in my humble opinion.

- Currents. Imma be real. Tame Impala could probably sit on a synth and they would still produce some amazing songs, that are as unique and intricate as ever. To me their music is just ideal music to vibe to. Whenever I don’t know what to listen to, I put their spotify page on shuffle and I will find something, that I love. They can just create songs that will carry you away into a different realm, while you’re trying to decipher and pick apart the various details of each note. And there aren’t many artist that are able to do that. The only other one I can think of is....

- Gamma. If you know this album or this band, we are automatically friends. No questions asked (unless you don’t want to be, then that’s fine). This album was created by a german band named Fewjar (Don’t worry they sing in english) and their songs are masterpieces. They manage to take me away on a journey far away from the here and now. And they have been doing so since 2015. Nothing they create is like any other song of theirs. Sure they have their signatures with some synths, guitars and such, but they manage to make every song sound so individual. I really can’t explain it too much, since you have to listen to them in order to really get the full picture. But their songs are certainly not for everyone. Which is why I've put Gamma on here. It’s a good place to start from, since it’s leaning into that 80′s style of sound. It’s sounds a bit more mainstream than their other songs. However if you want my personal recommendation: Listen to Polemonium on their album afewsides. It’s still my favourite song after 5 years of knowing them.

Last and actually least. Yep I didn’t know what to put here so I just picked Two Door Cinema Club and their album Tourist History on here. Don’t get me wrong. I love TDCC for what they do. Most of their songs are dancey and give you that certain kind of pep to your step. Their songs are fun, energetic and really make me wanna shimmy down the streets, whenever they come on in my headphones, but I usually only like a selective few of their songs. My favourite song is What You Know and it just so happens to be on this album, therefore I picked it here. I mean I told ya’ll that I don’t really listen to albums...

And we’re done. Phew this was something. Hopefully you got some idea of these albums. I don’t know who to tag so I’ll just go for it. @bad-puns-n-finger-guns @missjanjie @justedgehere and @thackeryisatop Feel free to participate if you like <3

#damn i am rambling #somebody stop me next time #BIG THANK YOU to Jaz for the tag<3

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delicrieux · 5 years ago

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amortentia [young!tom riddle x reader] -final-

premise: two students start developing feelings for one another despite having too many secrets to count.

tagging: @cheshirecatbyul @junieyes @whaledenwtf @xoxomioxoxo @cherryvblossom @adidabach @sissieliang @patronusfire @rianrawr @gravitygemjj @aquariemm @storiiteller @fortisfiliae @imagines-all-day-everyday @redrupees @kurara-black-blog @pleuviors @songforhema @zaybmocx @justeveeeee @importanttyrantruler @sissieliang @milkchocolatepretzel @wontyoustandbyme

warnings: angst, sexual themes, descriptions of death, very morbid + disturbing imagery

a/n: this had been brewing in my mind since i read les diaboliques! thank you all for all the wonderful comments and kudos and all that jazz. truly. i started this project because there were no tom riddle fics, and if there were they were not nearly disturbing enough for my tastes. this last chapter is from tom’s point of view and i think you can already guess why. let me know what you think! thank you again for this amazing journey. it is finally time for the curtain to fall. p.s. thank you immensely to my seraph @macchiavellii for the aesthetic. divine, as per usual.

xx d

amortentia masterpost | masterlist | support me | commissions! |

10. The Crimson Curtain/ Odette

There is not enough substance in this world to feed Tom Riddle’s desire for power – power over things that cannot be controlled, and power over people that simply adore him. He had always fancied himself completely in control; since moving to Hogwarts, he had built a new image of himself, a skilfully crafted mask that no one would question, or peer behind it if they did. He is charming, and handsome, and devilishly sly, yet he presents a tender disposition of a diligent student – everyone’s dream. To him very few things matter and nothing matters very much. Yet there is this girl from his house, this gentle, naïve creature that had enough heart to defend him from bullies that years later would worship him on their feet; the same, graceful, roseate cheeked figure giving him the upmost respect and adulation of which she, herself, has none. He was her first everything and he knew this and held this secret with silent pride: her first love, her first kiss, her first everything. And as fitting, or so he thinks, clearly and coldly, it started with him and it shall end with him – she will die in his hands like a swan taking her last bow on stage, in her prettiest white dress and refined movements, so precise they are hurtful, and it will be the most beautiful thing to witness and he anticipated that moment with bated breath and morbid, dark eyes, wild with wonder, drunk on lust.

The days slip by slowly at the Riddle Manor, its strange halls dark and the outside fields misty. The roses that had bloomed in the garden had wilted from the harsh wind; alien grey clouds dotted the sunless sky like a picture void of all colour, of all happiness. Then it got hot again, humid, the stench of old wood and the lingering whiff of death and blood floated in these halls as if a permanent tenant, unable to leave, bringing nothing but a sense of melancholy and acceptance. The nights are cold, bigger than imagining; black and gusty and enormous, disordered and wild with stars. It brought a sense of tranquillity, its vastness, though a looming sense of finality, too. (Name) had long ago accepted her fate as a soul to be sacrificed to the Mighty Death itself and Tom had no qualms about that: she accepted it with his first tender touch in confession, accepted it again on the train ride to Little Hangleton, and reconfirmed it with a scorching, delicious kiss. He wanted to devour her like Saturn devoured his sons, like Goya in fretful grey-brown colours depicted on the verge of his madness. He could not share her with anyone else; she is too precious to even bathe in the curious eye of anyone else. It pained him horribly to even imagine it.

Her room is on the second floor, the very last one, spacious and adorned with viridian sheets and cheerful depictions of the Victorian past via paintings framed in glossy wood. Her window overlooks the dead roses and the faraway cabin of the caretaker, who, for days oblivious, stumbles about his home, in his mind certain he had conversed with the Riddle family and watered the flowers, cut the grass, cheerily gave the children candy he used to love as a child himself. A red curtain, satin, soft as her skin, hung above the aforementioned window, swayed from the breeze. They had spent many nights within this room, it now trapping many whispers and groans of his name, embedded into the walls, into the pillows, and the taste of kisses and metallic blood only fuelled this famishing carnal desire.

And it is dark again and he is drawn to her door like a soul is drawn to the afterlife, feeling, in a dreamlike state, the air tonight being electric and different. The hallway is shadowy and he makes no sound as he moves to the handle, his hot hand burning from touching its cold metal surface. The door opens with a ghastly creek and he enters the cool, moonlit room. She sits on the edge of the bed, staring somewhere outside the open window, a candle burning on its sill and flicking with the curtain of rouge behind it, twirling, caressing the air in its sensual dance. She slowly turns her head to him, her features lily-like, submerged in water; she appears as a seraph that climbed down from heaven to wait for him by the foot of the bed. Though this seraph, this divine, lovely creature has its wings clipped, and blood streams lazily from her nose, drips on her nightgown, appearing black in the shade.

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks, knowing the answer. She faintly nods, tilting her head and watching her feet with an empty, lonely look. He approaches her vigilantly, not yet ready to let go this picturesque, medieval image of her, so waxen, so completely lifeless. He sits next to her, his hand coming to rest on hers. Hers feels like marble, cold and sculpted. He brings the hand to his lips, kisses it softly, thinking he shall warm it with his caress, all the while watching her closely in wonder and curiosity. She barely reacts, only the sides of her pale lips quirk upwards, and the faint glow of love lights up in her eyes, and she gazes back at him, through him, drifting between this world and the next. Still grasping her hand, his other lands on the back of her neck, careful to hold her as if she was something pitifully fragile. He lays her down onto the velvety, glossy sheets.

He looks into her eyes and he sees the ocean in their barren depths. It mesmerizes him, makes his breath hitch in his throat; the trickle of red dyes her cupid bow in the prettiest rouge lipstick. He kisses her, a kiss that is strangely unlike him, a kiss full of emotion so strong his heart nearly lunges out of his chest to beat for hers. Her pulse drums helplessly in her lips, on the side of her jaw where his hand moves to rest. He pulls away slightly, enraptured, and she rasps something melodious in blood written notes.

“Ma mort…” Her voice is an alluring siren’s call.

“Ma vie…” He whispers in between kisses.

She unfolds in his grasp like a rose, breathless and beautiful, and he kisses her neck, her collarbones, retraces the spots he had marked the night before with growing eagerness. He captures her lips again, this time void of any tenderness he had exhibited prior, and she returns it with unexpected keenness. Her limbs sputter by her sides as if she wants to grasp him, yet her hands fall back to bed before she has the chance to run her fingers through his hair. He growls, deep, in the back of his throat, because she tastes like heaven, his heaven, his own personal Eden.

Her last dance, her last arch to his roaming lips as they trail down the curve of her breasts. He calls her name with a gentle groan, barely a whisper. Her skin is frost. It does not heat no matter how much he touches it, and the night is dead silent suddenly, and the hand that had been wrapped around her throat feels as if something is amiss. He pulls away from her, sits uptight, and for a moment, or perhaps a minute, or a whole eternity, he stares at the pale, haunting body of a girl laying eerily still. Her eyes gaze into oblivion with alarming emptiness, and the light of the flickering candle reflects warmly in her eyes.

He cannot explain this feeling, cannot trap it within the constraints of his lexis. He trembles, lightly at first, then almost violently, her blood still warm on his lips. He feels horror grip his throat; settle in the pit of his stomach like a serpent. And he feels awe hitting him in waves of opalescent ecstasy. Beauty, true beauty, is terror. He had never seen something so absolutely sublime.

In a daze, Tom Riddle stands and wanders to the window. White wax drips from the candle. He leans in by the fire, exhales sharply and the fire sniffs out leaving put spirals of grey smoke. He slowly closes the window, his hands still shivering. Lastly he draws the curtain over it. What little light was in the room is now replaced by a sinister red glow.

He never felt so powerful, never so ethereal. Finally… it dawns onto him.

It is happiness he feels. Happiness scorched with abysmal pain.

fin.

#tom riddle #Young Tom Riddle #Harry Potter #imagine #imagines #harry potter fanfiction #hp #tom riddle x reader #reader #reader insert #xreader #tom x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #hogwarts #*hp #amortentia #based on the first chapter of les diaboliques #angst

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terra-oriens-soli-archived · 7 years ago

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literature quizzes~

repost with your muse’s results for the following quizzes.

HOMERIC EPITHET: You got Bright-eyed!

You are bright-eyed, Kiku. Homer also used this epithet to describe Athena, the goddess of things like wisdom, diplomacy, war, and arts and crafts. Athena was the patron of Odysseus and helped him out of some tough spots, except for those times she just didn’t feel like it for some reason or another.

FATAL FLAW: You’re too clever by half.

Your intelligence is unmatched, but your smart mouth is going to get you into trouble one of these days. Everyone says so. Odds are you’ll make one witty remark too many and meet a tragic, easily preventable end that surprises no one in the least. You’ll be mourned, of course, but we all saw it coming, and you kind of deserved it.

GREEK MYTHOLOGY DEATH: Killed by a wild boar that was sent by one of the gods

See, here’s the thing—someone sent that wild boar. It might have been Artemis, because she was jealous of your skill with a bow and arrow; it might have been Ares, who hated you; or it might have been Apollo, because your girlfriend blinded his son. There’s really no telling. You made enemies. This is just what happens when you’re too beautiful to even exist. Either way, you got mauled by a pig and are now dead, but you died in Aphrodite’s arms as she wept, so at least you've got that going for you.

LITERARY SETTING: Juliet's Verona house.

You got Juliet’s house in Verona! Not only is Verona one of the most beautiful places in Italy, it’s also the setting of one of the most iconic love stories of all time—perfect for a hopeless romantic like yourself. You can walk the old-fashioned cobblestone streets, eat your weight in deliciously photogenic gelato, and look out from your balcony at night, waiting for your lover to climb up the wooden trellis and profess their undying affection. Just don’t get caught up in any ancient grudges/new mutinies—for your sake, and for the sake of students in English classes for centuries to come.

Tagged by: @landforces ( Thank you very much dear~ )

Tagging: @exsuperatus, @kyoningyo, @tai-mei-hua, @paperworkanddogs, @ilserenissimo, @sokrovennyi, I haven’t seen many do this, but in case you did, feel free to pass it by, and if you haven’t, consider yourself tagged~

#;i picture my dream journey and look up the heavens ( tags )#( i have so many of these to do hahah )#( but this one was really interesting! )#;ask to tag #;long post

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

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Bubble Shit (The Borderlands Series, Part 9.)

Series description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert would have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

Part Summary: Along with landing on Eden-6, you actually had to go through the plan to know how many people you recruted and how much of a chance you might stand.

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always.

Word count: 2 K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad @mayacaroni (maybe you’ll like the series and you’ll stick around, I just thought you might wanna get notified!)

Series master list: H E R E

In every meaning of the phrase, it was sir Hammerlock to the rescue. It also turned out that sir Hammerlock was the one who Scooter had contacted and the one who was willing to go with you on the suicidal mission along with his lifetime partner, Wainwright Jakobs - who turned out to run the whole Jakobs company alter. Which was exciting you - you were just too furious to show any emotion.

"Thank for savin' our asses back there. I couldn't exactly handle the landin'." - Janey smiled at the duo driving the car while the rest of you sat in the trunk pressed on each other. It was rather uncomfortable for everyone, but everyone shut up so you wouldn't start another conflict.

"No problem, miss Springs. Wainwright and I knew about your planned arrival and as soon as you weren't on the spot on time, we knew something went wrong. Excuse us for arriving as late as we did, it wasn't the simplest task to find you in here." - Sir Hammerlock answered nonchalantly and you looked at that dude with a furrow. It wasn't that you hated him, but you were too angry to even say thank you. Scooter was pressed up to your side and you tried to scoop away to Rayray's side without a stroke of luck. That gross son of a bitch was just pressed to you and you could say that it makes him extremely happy.

"No problem, Hammylock! How had ya been? Ages since I saw ya for the last time!" - Scooter yelled directly to your ear and you were just ready to strangle him to death when the nearest chance comes by. That guy was just a pain in your ass.

"It was rather difficult, Scooter if I might say. I had a hard time accommodating here on Eden-6, but the fauna gives me much more choices than the Pandora's did!" - Hammerlock's big, rosy lips curled into a happy smile and you almost melted under the look he gave to Wainwright. These men were in love, there was no doubt about it. And you were with love at their idea of love.

"I have a new girlfriend, see?!" - Scooter yelled all over the car and suddenly, you two were the main interest of everyone. You were his what? He said what? Your patience was wearing thin and Scooter seemed to just make himself sure he'll piss you off as soon as he can. - "Ya have a similar arm, that's super cool!" - Athena was just as confused as you were along with everyone else in the car. Exactly since when you became his girlfriend? Did you miss that? Was he assuming this based on the fact you two held hands for about ten minutes? Was Scooter actually five? You moaned in distress and bit your lip.

"I see. Nice to meet you, miss! My friend's friends are my friends!" - Hammerlock turned at you with a smile and offered you a handshake. He had the metallic hand on the same side as you did - on his left. - "By any chance, are you two distantly related?" - Hammerlock asked with a furrowed face and you almost choked at the question once again.

"I haven't met this dude until two weeks ago. We're not even friends." - You yelled back at Hammerlock and he raised his eyebrows in wonder.

"I see, miss!" - He answered after a short while. - " You're stepping up your game, Scooter." - Hammerlock told the man beside you with a wink, whatever that meant. The rest of your way was almost awkwardly quiet since anyone knew why the hell Scooter would say that you two are in fact in a relationship. That dude seemed to be an actual five-year-old not having only severe brain damage, but showing a case of schizophrenia with seeing and feeling things that weren't based in reality at fucking all.

"This is some bubble shit." - You muttered out when you were getting off of Wainwright's car and almost hissed at when Scooter offered you his palm. No. Last time you held his hand, because you were scared to death, he figured out that you're dating.

But the amazement over Wainwright Jakobs' mansion was something that made you forget about everything as you tried to look at the house. Is was huge. Like fucking huge. You heard stories about this house being the foundation for every Jakobs rifle, revolver, shotgun, and stuff like that ever made. You loved to use the guns since you found yourself on Pandora’s surface, so this was like a beautiful dream.

"Are you shitting me?" - You looked at Athena and she gave an unknowing look back. - "This is the goddamn Jakobs mansion. Every Pandorian cowboy’s dream." - You whispered.

"That's true, miss. It's always nice to meet someone whos interest in my family's business... In a good way. And may I say, I haven't seen this shotgun for a long time." - Wainwright took the shotgun from your back and he skillfully flipped it between his fingers. - "I think that we don't make these for more than fifteen years. A true ancient one." - He put it back on your back.

"You-you’re... That Jakobs? Like that gunman Jakobs?" - You stuttered out, following him inside as Hammerlock offered everyone food and something to drink before a long meeting you were scheduled to have.

"As far as I am concerned, I think I am. I can show you some of my wares and maybe give you a good-luck gun, how does that sound?" - Wainwright smiled at both you and Athena entering the meeting hall by his side. You almost suffocated. That Jakobs was willing to give you one of his guns as a gift? This adventure was slowly looking better and better.

"You won't be going with us?" - Athena asked when she saw you being on the verge of screaming, laughing, crying, smiling, and freaking out.

"No, unfortunately, I have a family business I have to keep my eyes on, but Hammy will be accompanying your little party. He already contacted a lot of people, so you don't have to be alarmed, ladies." - The man smiled, yet you barely got a word from what he said. You were still drooling and having heart-eyes because of the offer you got. A Jakobs’ gun will be given to you as a good-luck gift. Oh, dear Buttstalion, this was your best day.

It was kinda funny seeing Rayray and Blindy not being accustomed to such a luxury - any member of your party was, but in fact, you at least were living like normal people. These bandits were living in Ham’s Creek, one of the creepiest looking assholes you've ever had seen. Hammerlock offered you plates of fresh vegetables and fruits, which almost made you cry since it felt like centuries since you saw normal food for the last time. All you were eating on Pandora was Skag bacon and home-made bread, sometimes you didn't eat at all and drank vodka only. And they even had some normal water and juice. That house was heaven and you didn't want to leave. Ever.

"Now that we’re in safety and everyone's here, we might go through the plan Scooter and I had put together, shall we?" - Sir Hammerlock smiled at everyone and adjusted the monocle with the broken glass he wore.

"We know that the distress call - if you wanna call it like that, came from Athenas. For those who might not know, this place was and is inhabited by sirens. So we knew that Maya is there possibly, which is why I didn't contact her for our cause - I'm sure she already knows what's heading their way." - He told you and suddenly, pictures of Athenas’ landscape appeared everywhere around you. It was a beautiful place - which you hummed to Athena while stuffing your face with slices of carrot.

"I tried my best with calling Brick, just as you said, Scooter, but he is off to his own business, I guess. Unfortunately, he won't be able to reach us. However, mister Mordecai had answered my call and he has only one condition - nothing shall happen to his new pet friend on our adventure." - Hammerlock smiled and when you saw pictures of these men, your breath got stuck for a moment. Youve only heard stories about Vault Hunters, since you were a child. But these men looked dangerous and unpleasant, especially Mordecai with his bottle of alcohol, just... Just like you were looking all the fucking time.

"I contacted miss Tina next, and I am courageous enough to say that she is more than thrilled to accompany us on our journey since she was screaming something including the world's bomb, mothersuckaz, and blowing up." - Another picture was showed to you and holy fucking christ, that girl looked insane. And that wasn’t meant to be a compliment. She looked nuts.

"Next on the list was mister Zer0, Marcus and Torgue, miss Gaige, mister Krieg, and mister Axton yet neither of them answered the call. And... The last one came to volunteer herself. This young lady’s name is Fiona and according to her words, she is a con-artist of sorts, as far as I was able to understand." - Hammerlock looked at Scooter. His eyes opened up and you didn't know what on Earth should be your response. You didn't know anyone from the names you've just heard.

"Naturally, I thought about the route we will have to take and to calm miss..." - He pointed your way since he hadn't even know your name. - "We won't be taking a flight by a rocket since our Fast Travel system is working just fine. We shall take a small detour to... Uh... Boom Town as it is called, to pick up Tina and mister Mordecai. Miss Fiona told me that she will meet us in Athenas. In my opinion, ten people, especially as dangerous as miss Tina, are enough to make a difference on the battlefield." - Hammerlock told each of you honestly. That sounded like a plan that someone thought about.

"And the attack, Hammerlock? How do we plan to do that?" - Athena next to you asked. Hammerlock nodded and pointed his finger at her, showing you other landscapes from Athenas.

"You had to notice that this terrain isn't exactly the most pleasant to have the surprise factor on our side. We talked with Scooter about this." - Hammerlock nodded and Scooter stood up.

"Janey and Pickle were using a thingy called Stingray on Elphis and I tell ya, man, that thingy is cool as hell. So, I thought about playin’ with the engine and gravity sensors a bit, makin’ it fly much higher than before! And we might need a machine to, ya know, even make us the damn car on that planet since I don't think it's connected to the network." - Scooter told Athena, and it could be heard that he's an expert in this area, and Janey jumped into the conversation with her engineering and mechanic talents.

"In that case, we have to do somethin’ about the core and the coverin’, mate, because I'm worried that this will be our biggest problem. Elphis didn't have atmosphere and Athenas do." - She said seriously and you looked at Wainwright with your heart-eyes again. Scooter nodded and both of them left the room to work on the machinery. Everything seemed to be too real for you. Just too real.

#borderlands #scooter Borderlands #borderlands 2 #Borderlands fanfic #scooter x reader #sir hammerlock #wainwright jakobs #eden-6 #athena borderlands #janey springs borderlands #*terminator laughter* i am back

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maastrash · 6 years ago

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Second Chances Chapter 5

Summary: For Azriel, Elain Archeron is the one that got away. He had been deeply in love with her since high school–even though she had no clue who he was. Now, 10 years later, Elain is engaged and happy. Knowing he missed his chance, Azriel tries to move on from the girl who captured his heart for so long. But, when Elain’s wedding is suddenly canceled, fate seems to finally be on his side. The world has given him a second chance, and this time he won’t mess it up.

A/N: Ah I am so sorry this took about 1000 years oml I was kinda in a writing slump... But yesterday I got into the University of Washington AH and I feel motivated to write again!! I have a few pieces in the works but hope you enjoy this!

Thank you to @fireheart-of-your-dreams for being my literal comma correcting queen, she is amazing!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Masterlist // AO3 :)

Elain smiled as a cool breeze blew through her hair. She shut her eyes, letting the warmth of the Hawaiian sun kiss her face. It was magical. She always felt wild and free in the middle of the ocean, away from all the city life. This time it was different, though. Better. This time, she had Azriel.

She leaned into him as they both watched the water sparkle, the island getting closer as the boat began its journey back to the shore. The past two days on the boat had been absolutely perfect. The way he would reach for her hand or put his arm around her shoulders made her feel loved, cherished. It still shocked her how easy it was to joke with him, laugh with him, and just be with him. Although it was fake dating, Elain could no longer deny that she had feelings for him. Yes, she was still hurting and yes they were friends, but despite all that baggage, their connection felt deep. It felt real.

Here with Azriel, Elain could almost see the life they could have. The love she thought she would never get to experience seemed so attainable with Azriel. She could picture them coming back here. Alone. She knew to get there, she needed to let Greyson go, and she knew just how to do it.

Twisting the cool metal around her finger, Elain slowly slid the ring off her hand. Azriel watched the approaching island, not noticing the small splash as Elain let the ring fall into the ocean. At that moment, Azriel didn’t know, but his presence, his words, gave her the strength to let go. The strength to leave it behind, leave Greyson behind. And as they drew closer to the island, Elain smiled, grasping Azriel’s hand - ready for this new chapter of her life to begin.

Azriel couldn’t help but grin as Elain took his hand and led him off the boat. The past two days pretending to be her boyfriend had been simultaneously heaven and hell. He got to touch her, support her, and love her without hiding, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t real. He wanted more, needed more. But it was fake. He knew his best option was to cherish the time he did have with her. Before it was over.

Sometimes, it was so hard to keep how he truly felt a secret. He was so tempted to leave it out in the open, but there was too much at stake. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose her friendship, to lose her. Maybe when it was all over, he would tell her. Maybe.

Elain loved her family to death, but after two full days of Rhys and Feyre eye fucking, Nesta and Cassian’s bickering, and her parents digging into her love life, she needed a break. Well, not so much a break, more like alone time with Azriel.

She was still holding his hand, and despite no longer being with her family, she was not planning on letting go any time soon. Elain led him through the bustling market with stands selling jewelry, shaved ice, and street food without giving any of them a second glance. She had been coming to this resort for years, and she knew just where she wanted to spend the rest of the day with him.

Once past the market, Elain led him down the familiar grey trail surrounded by grass and palm trees. She slowed her pace so they were walking next to each other, their hands swinging gently between them. She took a breath, inhaling the pleasant scent of the sea as well as a slight misty cedar scent she had become so accustomed too.

Azriel squeezed her hand gently, pulling her back to reality. Her cheeks flushed - she hoped he hadn’t known what she had been thinking about. “Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly. “Just got distracted.”

He laughed softly, the sound making her very soul feel lighter. “You’re cute when you’re distracted.”

“I see the flirting is still in your system after two days.”

“How can I resist?”

This was new. They had never really flirted when they didn’t have to. But if Azriel wanted to play, she could play.

She let go of his hand and wrapped her arm around his, leaning into him as they walked. She heard his sharp intake of breath in surprise and felt satisfaction at the fact that she could unnerve him so easily.

“You’re pretty irresistible too,” she said, looking up him through her lashes.

Azriel cleared his throat but met her gaze. “Where are you taking me Ms. Archeron?”

“It’s a surprise.”

They talked softly until Elain stopped in front of the hotel arcade, lights flashing and sounds of children playing within greeting them.

“I thought you could use some fun.” She smiled up at him.

“You thought right.”

“I mean, I don’t know how much fun you’ll be having after I beat you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They started off with basketball, and Elain lost so badly, it wasn’t even fair to call it a game. It was such a beat down that Azriel ended up showing her how to shoot correctly, moving to stand behind her and move her through the motions. But with the warmth of his body against hers, his lips by her ear, his breath caressing her neck, she forgot how to think. Suddenly, it was way too hot–Elain suggested they play air hockey, if just to clear her head of the feeling of Azriel so close.

Azriel couldn’t stop staring at Elain as they played. Her honey locks falling out of her loose ponytail, the determination of her brows, the look of concentration clear in her eyes, and most of all the dazzling smile and joy that overtook her when she scored or blocked his shot. That look was worth missing the shot every single time.

By the time they decided to leave, it was dark out, and Azriel had won Elain a teddy bear, a rabbit, and even some sweet treats. It was by far the best date he’d ever had, and it wasn’t even a real date. He tried to not to think about that, instead savoring the time he had left with her.

“I had fun, Elain.” He smiled softly, giving her hand a squeeze.

“I’m so glad,” she said, squeezing his hand back.

Slowly making their way back to the hotel, they walked hand in hand, laughing lightly about all the fun they’d had.

When they finally got to the room, Elain just plopped down onto the bed. It was an exhausting day, and even though the night was young, she could barely keep her eyes open.

Azriel laid down beside her - both of them had gotten pretty comfortable sleeping together after the past few days. And although neither of them would admit it, they’d never slept better.

Elain sighed softly as she felt Azriel drape an arm around her. She leaned into his warmth and let herself drift to sleep.

Elain opened her eyes and saw that the bright red letters of the clock read 1:30 am. She’d been asleep a while but a nightmare had woken her. She hadn’t had one for weeks. She sat up, breathing deeply, reminding herself that she was with Azriel. She was safe.

“Elain?” Azriel stirred next to her. “Are you ok? What’s going on?”

“Nightmare,” she sighed softly.

“Are you ok? Do you want to talk about?” he asked, sitting up next to her.

“I’m ok. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.

“Never apologize,” he said softly, stroking her back gently.

She leaned into him, savoring the comfort he provided. “Want to go for a walk?”

“Right now? It’s 2 am.” He chuckled raising a brow.

She blushed. “I just wanted a reason to be out with you.”

“Well, how can I refuse?”

The couple walked around the hotel, the warm breeze blowing through their hair. They headed towards the hotel’s restaurant and bar which still appeared to be open. Settling at a table in the back corner, Elain couldn’t stop herself from admiring the male across from her. The lighting brought out the warmth of Azriel’s eyes, so different from the cold grey ones she had been so accustomed to.

“I’ll get us some drinks. Be right back.” He smiled as he stood, making her stomach flip.

She nodded as he left and decided she would freshen up in the bathroom. She probably looked like a complete mess.

Elain looked down at her phone to see a text from Feyre. As she typed in the passcode to open her phone, she stumbled on a dip the ground and walked straight into someone. By the cauldron, why was she so clumsy?

Once stable, she looked up about to apologize when she saw those cold, and unforgiving eyes she tried to forget. The eyes that haunted her dreams.

Greyson.

Thanks for reading!

Tagging these lovelies: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @aelinninielelain // @julesherondalex // @rosehallshadowsinger // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5// @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @clarkesardothien // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas @hollyblue2171 //

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past-perfect-future-tense · 5 years ago

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Elements of Chance Part 4

So apparently my Word program has decided to work so I’ll post the next part of the book. Again, I like comments, reblogs are good, whatever you want to talk about from the post. Tags are at the end.

“Can you at least for once tell me where we’re going? For the better half of the day I have been at your mercy.” I questioned for something, I would be happy for even a hint of the destination.

“Well, it’s not as though I sat and planned this day out. I think you will like where we’re going. No, I think you will love it! I think you might even hug me to thank me for the surprise.” He was smiling as he said this.

“Don’t push your luck. So if I love it I will hug you and if I hate it can I hit you?” He wasn’t too keen on that idea as I could see from his expression. “So do we have a deal? I mean if you are that confident in your assumption, then you won’t mind the wager.” I could see I was pushing it and he was playing along.

“Fine, you can hit me if you don’t like the place that I’m taking you. Care to shake on it?” Now he was just being coy.

“No, I trust that you will hold up your end of the deal.” I smiled at him as we continued to walk a little further. If he left me here, I would have no idea where we were. I’ve been in London and some of the areas I’m very familiar with, however this was not one of them. Eventually we came up to a store with two large windows framed in bright yellow. It was very eye catching and quite bright for the area. The yellow caught your attention and was a pop of color against the dull brick facade of the building and those around it. I read the sign, it was a book store. He was right and I would have to hold my end of the deal.

“So, do you like our destination?”

“Yes, I love bookstores! How did you know?” I was surprised and flattered by his observations of me.

“After your display at the museum when you became distraught over not being able to buy some books I figured you would love a place like this. Come on, let’s go inside.” He reached to open the door but before he could reach the handle I reached out and embraced him. I gave him squeeze and stood upon my tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” I was touched by his thoughtfulness and kindness. Why did he have to be so perfect? Why did he have to be so hard to resist? He smiled and opened the door and I walked in ahead of him.

The smell of the bookstore was amazing. I loved the smell of old books. It had a familiarity and history that you can’t get from a big bookstore with bright lights and a crowd of people competing for overpriced books. From the sign on the front I read that it sold rare and used books. When I was in London previously I had taken home several used books from a charity shop in Chelsea near the flat where I was staying. When you find an old used book, it would seem to me like a pirate finding a treasure and the contents of the treasure were truly valuable, even if only to you. We split up and began to look for different things. The shelves were tall and the store had a yellow border that wrapped around the inside perimeter. Books were in almost every corner, like a buffet waiting to be devoured by famished brethren.

What he was looking for I did not ask about and vice versa. I didn’t know where to start, so I began in the back of the store and worked my way to the front. Going aisle by aisle browsing for anything that caught my fancy, I was in a reader’s heaven. He was the opposite and worked from the front of the store to the rear. I found a small stash of Edgar Allen Poe and decided to buy a book of his short stories. It was in great condition for a hard back and had an interesting dust jacket. I continued my journey through the narrow byways of the store searching for a jewel in the rough.

I found a jewel in the rough; he was standing in the same aisle as me. Tall, blonde, fair skin and sexy as sin, he was like a leading man from a novel too good to be true. I could picture him riding horse-back in an Austen novel through a field on a cloudy day to find his true love; with the wind in his hair and the determination to get to her at any cost set in his face. He looked over at me and smiled. I smiled and looked away. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, watching me, waiting for his moment. Would I allow him a moment? I looked back toward him and he mouthed hello. I gave him a short friendly wave with my hand and went back to my book. I wondered what book he was combing through. Should I take a chance and go to him? No, I could never do that. He looked my way again and I figured I would go for it. With all of my courage I looked him in the eyes, put a kiss in my hand and blew it to him. He caught it and then did the most unthinkable thing he could ever do, he put it on his crotch. He then gave me a sly, devious smile. I rolled my eyes and looked away in complete disgust. It was funny and I hated to admit it. Smiling at him with slight disdain, he casually walked over to me. No matter how distasteful his joke had been or not, he was inexplicably handsome in his caramel colored suede jacket and dark blue jeans.

“You had to ruin it didn’t you?” I told him with disappointment in a low voice.

“I just wanted to make you laugh, that’s all. Hey you have to admit it was funny.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright it was a bit funny and you may wish that, however I will have nothing to do with that area of your body.”

“I can dream can’t I?” He laughed lowly as not to disturb the others in the store.

“Yeah one of your better dreams…” I wasn’t finished looking at books. So I looked back to the shelf I was before.

“So you don’t do everything, do you?” He was questioning me, continuing his game.

“I believe that my sexual prowess is none of your concern.” I continued on.

“You’re a hard one to figure out.”

“Me? You’re the one making vulgar gestures in a bookstore.”

“I’m not giving up on you, no matter how difficult and prissy you are.”

“Congratulations, you’re figuring me out.” I put my arm in his, “And you like me to be difficult and prissy.”

“See, there you go, you win me over again. I do like difficult and prissy. Although I didn’t know I did until today.”

“So, what book did you find?” I asked him about his selection.

“I found an old copy of a song book, words and music from the Doors.”

“Oh, I love the Doors. I had such a crush on Jim Morrison….I would look at the album cover of his single face, while my mother played it on our turn table, a 78.” I wistfully looked at him as I remembered back. “May I look at it?”

“Here” He handed me his book and took mine to browse through. “You like Poe?”

“No, I love Poe. His dark, brooding energy, it gives me chills. I have several different compilations of his, nothing like this one though. It will be perfect for my collection.”

“He is quite interesting, I like him as well.”

“This is a really good find.” I gave him the book back. I continued to look through the art section. I found three others I decided to take. There were mainly picture books of Helen Frankenthaler, Gustav Klimt and Andy Warhol.

“So you collect picture books too?”

“Yes, I started when I first entered college and haven’t stopped since. I started collecting them of Georgia O’Keefe, since she was my inspiration to try painting. The more I really started to study art, not just as an artist but as an appreciator, then I began to collect many other artists. I will always collect my favorites first, but now if I find a good book of any artist that I feel remotely has an impact on art, and then I will add them to the collection. My goal is to have a library of picture and biographies of artists in my studio. I would like my children, if I have any, which I doubt, to be able to go to my studio and pick up a book and find out what they need to. A visual art history if you will.” He was not surprised by this; he seemed to understand me more than anyone on this. What my desire was and how I was fulfilling it.

“I think your ‘children’ will be inspired by your commitment to their art education. I know I try to do the same with mine as well. Art is a natural reflection of life. Some of its good, some not, but the beauty of it all is that it is a part of all cultures in any time throughout history. There’s nothing more pure and contrived hosted in one thing out there. Well, maybe music, we aren’t talking about that though.”

“No not today, but we can sometime.”

“It’s good to know you were listening and not just imagining me naked. I know that is very difficult for you not too, but please, I have my dignity.” He stood next to me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Oh my God, I’m going to vomit.” I put my hand over my mouth and made a gagging sound. He smiled at me and then I said, “I would have thrown up had I’d of had anything in my stomach.”

“So you are saying you are hungry?”

“No. I’m not hungry, why would I be hungry? I mean I haven’t eaten anything all day come to think of it. We should go eat. Are you hungry, too?” I asked him.

“Yeah, come on. Are you finished looking around? I am. We have been here for a couple of hours. They would probably be glad to get rid of us.” I followed him to the counter. “Ladies first”

“Thank you.”

“Hello and how are you this evening?” The clerk asked me. He was a younger man, in his early twenties.

“I’m doing very well, thank you.”

“Was there anything in particular you were looking for?”

“No, not really, mostly just browsing and whatever looked appealing, well then you just take, right?”

“Yeah that is the way to browse, have an open mind. Art enthusiast?” He asked me.

“Yes, all my life I’m afraid.” I smiled at him and he returned the smile.

“You know she is an artist herself. She even has a show going on. You should check it out. Here is the card for the gallery.” He gave the clerk a card from the gallery. When did he confiscate that?

“I will; thank you.” The clerk smiled at me and then at him.

“Oh, here put them all together.” My friend handed the clerk his book.

“No they are separate purchases. Thank you though for offering.” I smiled at him and handed him the book back.

“Wait I owe you some books, remember.” He put the book back on the counter and the clerk took it swiftly and rang it up before I could try to take it from him.

“That’s right you do owe me some books, however these will not make up for the others.” I slightly scowled and as the clerk laughed.

“I think I owe you much more than the books.” He said and the clerk looked down and began to put our books in a bag. He gave the clerk his credit card and we waited for the transaction to finish. The young man gave him the receipt, the bag of books and thanked us.

We left the bookstore in search of something to eat. I really was famished. I was starting to get light headed.

“You know the restaurant is a bit far from here, so I’ll get a cab. We have done quite a bit of walking today.” He hailed the cab for us and as usual I was the first one in. He told the driver the address and we were off.

Tags @nightcrawler0213 @dracris33 @xmarveled @michelehansel @melodramaticfanatic

#the elements of chance #My Book #Alek and Katherine #norway #london #Tate Modern #modern art #angsty love story

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scuzmunkie · 6 years ago

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Run, Little Rabbit, Run: Chapter 9

A/N: My darling little pumpkins!! How I love you so!! Thank you so much for coming in this journey with me!! I’ve made some amazing friends along the way and I appreciate each and everyone of my followers!! You guys have no idea how emotional I get when I read your comments!! Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all so much!! And now for chapter 9! You know the drill, lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list and if there are any mistakes!! Enjoy! Smooches!! Baron Corbin x OFC Word Count: 2000+ Warnings: language and moderate sexy times. (I suck at writing smut, so I don’t attempt it lol) Summary: Run, Addie, the Constable is coming for you..... +++ “Baron, I need some space.” Addie giggled, trying to gently push him away. This earned her a low growl and a soft nudge against her head. “Too bad, little rabbit, I wanna be close to you.” He rumbled. “Ok, love birds. As cute as you two are, I have a match tonight and I need to look flawless!” Alexa said giving them a mock scowl. “Watch it, pixie.” Baron growled, playfully snapping his teeth in Alexa’s direction. Addie softly bopped him on the nose with her pointer finger. “Be nice,” Addie stood on her tiptoes and pecked Baron on the lips, “I’ll see you later.” “Fine...” he mumbled against her lips, “I love you. See you tonight.” “Love you too.” Squealing when he smacked her ass as he walked away. “THAT’S RIGHT!” Alexa beamed, “Tonight’s your first change!! Ooooh, are you nervous?” “Um, a little. From what the others have told me, the first time is pretty painful.” Addie chewed her lip as she put the finishing touches on Alexa. “Michael offered to use his magic to try and dull the pain but I want to feel it all, y’know? Get an understanding of what Baron went through.” “Well, you’re a hell of a lot braver than I am. I’d spring for that magic offer faster than a jack rabbit on a date.” “Thanks for the visual.” Addie said as she grimaced. Alexa placed a loving hand on Addie’s. “You’ll be fine babe. Baron won’t let anything happen to you, he’ll be there every step of the way.” With that, she kissed Addie’s cheek leaving a huge lipstick kiss mark. —- Baron stood in front of Addie, his nose buried in her hair. He held her small hands in his calloused ones as the night air kissed their skin. The wind blew through the trees as the leaves rustled. He could hear her heart beating faster than normal. It was natural for his little rabbit to be nervous. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I’ve got you.” He whispered as he pulled her into his arms. He loved how perfect her body fit with his. Leaning down, he kissed Addie, trying his best to calm her nerves. She happily welcomed the distraction. “Ok,” he whispered when they pulled apart, “first thing’s first, take off your clothes.” “What?” Addie squeaked out. “Don’t worry, I’ll put them in my backpack. They won’t get dirty.” He said as he nodded his head to the bag that hung from one of the handlebars of his motorcycle. It was a sweet gesture but her clothes getting dirty wasn’t what she was worried about. Although they had been together since that horrible night, they hadn’t been intimate yet. Addie still felt self conscious about her body even tho Baron reassured her that he loved her body. Sensing her unease about shedding her clothes in front of him, Baron kissed her forehead. “Baby,” Baron murmured, “we’ve been over this, I think you’re sexy as hell. You don’t need to hide your body from me.” “No, I know... it’s not that, well not totally that. I got sick in my teens and I’ve only really been with one guy. We had math together. It was just one time and it wasn’t great.” She rolled her eyes when Baron growled at the mention of another guy touching what was his. “Oh stop that. What I’m trying to tell you is that I’m not super experienced and not used to people seeing me naked.” “Oh babe,” his voice low and husky, “I don’t give a shit about how experienced you are. When the time comes I’ll take care of you...” he buried his face in the crook of her neck, “I’ll make you feel things you’ve only dreamed of.” He gently bit her sensitive skin, “I’ll worship this gorgeous body so good, you’ll be a whimpering mess begging me to never stop.” He pulled back and kissed her lips then her forehead. By now Addie felt like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to let go and lose control around Baron. But there was something that had to be done first. Taking a deep breath, Addie backed up, reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly undressed under the light of the full moon. Once she was completely bare before her alpha, she looked at him for further instruction. Baron was currently in a daze as he stared at his mate’s voluptuous, perfect body. His wolf was practically biting at the chops to take her right then and there. Shaking his head, he quickly removed his shirt knowing that the skin to skin contact will help her through her change. He walked towards Addie, pulled the hair tie from her braid and brushed his fingers through her hair. “This’ll be easier if we’re sitting, ok?” He watched as she nervously nodded her head as she sat on the ground. Sitting behind her, Baron wrapped his arms around her soft tummy and pulled her between his bent legs, against his chest. He kissed her shoulder where his mark was, pride running through his body when he felt her shiver under his touch. “Relax baby, breath with me.” Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back on his shoulder as she placed her arms on his. “You’re going to feel a dull heat throughout your body and it’s going to intensify. Do you feel it?” “Y-Yeah, it’s not that ba- OH! I lied!” Her nails dug into Baron’s skin. “It feels like I’m on fire, it hurts Baron!” She winced and whimpered in as it got worse. Baron tightened his hold on her while kissing her mark again, trying to ease her pain. He knew that what was about to come would be the most excruciating pain she’d ever feel in her life. “I know, baby, I know. I need you to listen, next you’re body is going to morph into an entirely different being.” He murmured against her ear, “Your bones will break and reform into your wolf. It’s going to hurt but I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” “I’m scared, I don’t know if I can-!” She was cut off by her own scream as her back arched as they both heard that pop of her first broken bone. Just as she was about to scream in agony, Baron sunk his now sharp teeth into her shoulder. Addie moaned in pleasure and pain as her body leaned into Baron’s. He did all he could to distract her from the anguish that was tearing through her entire body. Unable to hold onto Addie anymore, Baron jumped back as her body changed into a breathtaking red wolf. Finally able to catch her breath, Addie looked at Baron with big eyes. She tried to stand, but wasn’t yet used to this new form. Her head felt like it was going to explode as all of her senses felt like they had just been cranked to eleven. “Easy babe, take your time.” Baron whispered as he slowly approached his luna. “It’s going to take some getting used to.” He helped Addie to her feet, running his hands over her fur once she was able to stand on her own. He stroked her fur, marveling at how soft it was. Unable to stop himself, he leaned into her side lying his head on her side as his hands continued to pet her soft coat. Closing his eyes, he listened to her heartbeat, never taking it for granted as he thought about the night he had almost lost Addie. It had been almost a full month since then and he made sure to tell her everyday how much he loved her. Feeling antsy, Addie gently shook him off. Her paws started to fidget, like they needed to dig into the earth while she raced through the trees. ‘Patience, my dear.’ A voice said in her mind, causing Addie to yip in surprise. ‘What?! Who are you?!’ Addie asked, trying not to freak out. ‘I’m your wolf.’ Addie recalled Baron trying to explain this to her, though she didn’t feel prepared at all for the real thing. ‘Relax and trust our alpha, he’ll take care of us.’ Baron stood in front of Addie, running his fingers through the fur around her neck. “You are so beautiful.” He whispered as he leaned her head down so he could place his forehead on hers. Stepping back, Baron took off the rest of his clothes and took on his wolf form as well. Addie watched as Baron crouched, his body morphing into a dark grey wolf that easily stood a foot and a half taller than Addie’s. Walking towards her, Baron ran his muzzle along hers, scenting her. Once he was satisfied with his work, he kicked her neck then playfully nipped at her. Wanting to be closer to him, Addie nuzzled under Baron’s neck. Nudging her head with his nose, Baron tilted his head towards the open woods. He started to run from her, barking for her to follow. Addie didn’t need to be told twice as she took off after him. When they had their fill of running under the night sky, Addie and Baron laid on the ground near his bike. Sensing that the sun would be up in a few hours, Baron stood and changed back to human. “Turning back into human is a lot easier. Close your eyes and picture your human form.” He instructed when she too stood and tilted her head to the side. Closing her eyes, Addie did as she was told. Although it took some time, she was finally back to her old self. She opened her eyes and looked at Baron. He looked so majestic under the light of the full moon. Closing the gap between them, Addie used Baron’s shoulders to pull him down into a heated kiss. Growling, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against his body. Her plush body felt like heaven against his hard body. Pulling away, Baron quickly ripped open his backpack and pulled out a large blanket and laid it on the ground. Sitting on the blanket, Baron reached out a hand towards his beautiful Addie. Once she was in his arms, he laid her on her back as he hovered over her as he nestled between her luscious thighs. She cupped his face pulling him down for another kiss. Moving from her lips, down her jaw, finally reaching her shoulder, he left open mouthed kisses on her skin. He bit her skin as she dug her nails up his back, causing him to growl against her neck. Her thighs tightened around Baron as she ground her hips into his. “Little rabbit, if you keep that up I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to control myself.” He growled against her ear. “Maybe I want to lose control with you.” She purred, pulling back to look into his now glowing eyes. “I need to hear you say it Adelina.” He said, a cocky smirk on his lips as he watched her shiver at the sound of her name on his tongue. Growling, she pulled him by the back of his neck, crashing her lips against his as she bit his bottom lip. “Take me, alpha.” She said as she stared into his eyes. Letting out a roar, he held her tightly by her hair as he marked the delicate skin of her neck with his teeth. She dragged her nails along his spine as she arched into him. Under the stars, Baron kept true to his word, reveling in every gasp, whimper and moan he drew from her as he showed her body the love she deserved. At the height of their love making, Baron stared into Addie’s eyes. “Tell me you love me.” Baron growled out. “M-More than anything.” She panted out as she bared her neck to him, a little tip Ruby gave her. Throwing his head back, Baron howled at the full moon then sunk his teeth into her neck as Addie cried out his name. Collapsing on her soft body, Baron held Addie close as they basked in each other’s afterglow. A single tear fell from Baron’s eye as he stared at the beautiful gift the moon goddess bestowed upon him. Stroking her hair as she let out a small yawn, Baron pulled a few things from his bag and gently cleaned their bodies. He pulled her to her feet and helped her get dressed then throwing his own clothes on. Packing everything back up, Addie took the bag from his hands and put it on her back. With ease, Baron lifted Addie and placed her on his bike then mounting it himself. Wrapping her arms around his torso, kissing his back between his shoulder blades. “I love you.” She whispered as she rested her chin on his shoulder. Baron turned his head and kissed her cheek. Staring into her eyes, Baron leaned back and exposed his neck to his luna, a sign of full submission and respect. Addie softly bit his neck, shivering as he moaned under her teeth. When she pulled her teeth back, she kissed the small mark she left on his skin. “It’s official now.” Baron whispered. “You’re my luna, my equal, my moon. Mine as I am yours.” “Yours as you are mine.” Addie whispered. “Forever.” He said as he kickstarted his bike and made their way back to the hotel. “Forever.” She whispered back as the wind cooled her heated skin. The Moon Goddess smiled down as she watched her wolves start their new like together.

+++

Darling Little Pumpkins:

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