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hotchner-edu · 4 months ago

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Descend | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: You and Jack plan out a surprise birthday party for Aaron, but it's hard to keep secrets while dating a profiler. — part 4 of (1 , 2 , 3 ... can be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger (Of Age) F!Reader

Warnings: best friend's father trope, fluff, sassy jack hotchner, allusions to smut

Your mind was running three miles a minute as you ramble out an endless list of party supplies and worries. Jack is sitting in the passenger seat as you drive, and you're being very careful as you brake (since Jack had once told you he'd get a concussion one day from your driving).

"Streamers, balloons... oh gosh, I hope that Aaron isn't called away for a case, could you imagine that?... Oh! Do you think we should get a cake from the bakery by 8th street? He liked the cupcakes I got from there... Fuck... his birthday is in two days, why did I wait so long to get supplies!" You speak rapidly, tapping the steering wheel anxiously as Jack queues up some songs.

Your best friend raises his eyebrows in amusement and shakes his head. "You have got to calm down. My dad will like anything you do for him. Hell, you could probably just text him 'Happy Birthday' and he'll be all smiles for the rest of the day."

"This is serious, Jack!" You huff with a small worried frown. "Birthdays are so complicated." A defeated groan falls from your lips.

"Just do what I do for Leah. I get her some flowers and take her to dinner for her birthday." Jack tries to placate you, smiling a bit boyishly as he talks about his girlfriend.

You snort softly and tease him playfully. "In other words... the bare minimum?" You joke and make a right turn into the party supply store parking lot.

"First of all, fuck you." Jack quips back lightheartedly, waiting until you park the car to flick your arm.

Despite Jack's insistence that Aaron wasn't expecting anything huge for his birthday, your best friend allows you to drag him around town as you raid store shelves and make numerous phone calls to local bakeries.

Unfortunately, your mind is a prolific river of anxieties as you are suddenly hit with the realization that you're dating a profiler of all people. When the next morning rolls around, your newest concern was that Aaron would catch on to your plans to throw him a surprise party.

It was nearing seven in the morning, and it was the day before Aaron's birthday. You couldn't sleep too well, the gnawing worries of things going askew tormenting you even as you rested, twisting your stomach into knots.

Feeling a tightening against your stomach, you blush a little as you look down and remember just where you were. You had decided to spend the night at Aaron's house again, and you both had stayed up quite late.

You feel a soft kiss being pressed to the back of your neck. "Are you up, sweetheart?" His gruff morning voice fills your ears as he pulls you even closer to his body.

"Mhm... you're up early too..." You mumble back and run your hand along his arm.

"Felt you twisting and turning." He grumbles back softly as he yawns a litte, shuffling for a moment before returning to his previous movements of kissing down your neck and back.

You smile softly and the butterflies in your stomach flutter as you speak lightly. "Do you have the day off today?"

You were torn. A part of you was hoping he would so that you could spend the day with him, but another part of you hoped he'd be at the office so you could go pick up his cake and his gift.

"I do. How should we spend it, I wonder..." He says almost mischievously, his warm hand laying flat against your stomach and rubbing it before sliding lower.

"Well, unless you want to wake Jack up..." you trail off and smile widely, teasing him back by stopping his hand.

He grunts, dipping his head to kiss and suck on the junction between your neck and shoulder. That was definitely going to leave a hickey. "We can be quiet." He mumbles against your skin.

"Horny old man." You grumble playfully.

Aaron chuckles deeply, voice still a bit rough from sleep as he moves to lean over you. "Yes, yes, now let me love you."

By the time you manage to escape Aaron's sinful temptations and addicting touch, it's closer to nine am. He decides to take a shower as you head down to start making breakfast after brushing your teeth.

When you step into the kitchen, you see Jack rubbing his eyes as he sits at the kitchen island. "For Christmas I want noise cancelling headphones and for you guys to soundproof the bedroom." He muses without even looking up at you, texting on his phone.

You cringe a little and mentally kick yourself. "I'm so sorry..."

Jack waves you off, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. "I'm just pulling your leg, I was able to fall back asleep. Besides, 's not like I haven't put you through the same."

You shiver a little at the memories of waking up to Jack's varying shenanigans in adjacent rooms during trips with your friend group. "I think we should both just gift each other noise cancelling headphones."

"Yeah... well I'm staying over at Leah's tomorrow night, so go crazy." He says, smiling as he gets another text from his girlfriend. "Oh, and speaking of tomorrow, did you need me to help set up for the party?"

You groan at the thought. Ideally, Aaron would be at the office for a couple of hours today so you could go pick up some things, and then be gone until the evening tomorrow so you could set up for the party.

"Still not sure about that... Aaron doesn't have work today, and I'm not sure about tomorrow either." Your tone is low as you start grabbing ingredients from the fridge.

Jack huffs, clearly understanding your dilemma. "I can try and get him out of the house tomorrow if he doesn't have to work. Have a father-son bonding day or something."

You nod and smile. "Yes, please." You smile appreciatively.

"You're on your own today though, Leah wants to get lunch with me." Jack says playfully.

"So your usefulness does have a limit." You quip back with a deadpan look.

Later in the day, you slip away to make a quick phone call after coming up with an idea to get Aaron out of the house.

"This is Dave." You hear the older man's voice ring out.

You clear your throat softly. "Hi Dave. It's me, I need a favor."

"Ah, I was wondering when I'd hear from you." David chuckles. "Is the party still happening tomorrow?" He asks kindly.

"Yes, it is. The rest of the team is still able to make it, right?" You ask softly, keeping your voice hushed as you can hear Aaron shuffling around downstairs.

"Yep, our schedules are cleared for tomorrow. Y'know, Aaron was rushing to finish his paperwork all week, he wanted to get the weekend off to spend it with you and Jack." He says with a teasing lilt in his voice.

You wince a little in guilt and sigh. "Ah... Well, actually... would it be possible for you to call Aaron into the office for like... two hours? I need to go pick up some things for him last minute."

"He's going to bite my head off, kiddo." David muses, sounding resigned to that fact already.

"You have seniority, you'll be okay." You say and chuckle.

You hear the man sigh a little before chuckling fondly. "Alright, I'll think of something."

Exhaling in relief, you thank the man profusely before hanging up.

You slowly retreat from the quiet room, almost walking directly into Aaron's chest as you close the door behind you. "Oh!"

"There you are, honey. What were you doing in the towel closet?" Aaron asks in amusement, curiosity filling his tone. You could see the gears in his head turning as he sees your phone in your hand.

"Phone call." You explain simply, leaning up to kiss him. "Also, Jack heard us this morning." You grumble and playfully smack his chest, trying to change the topic.

Aaron frowns a little at that and rubs your back. "He needs to move out." He says jokingly while maintaining his serious expression.

Chuckling, you pat his chest and shake your head. "Now, now, we both know you'd cry if that were to actually happen."

Luckily, Dave actually manages to come up with some excuse for Aaron to drop by the office not even an hour later. Your boyfriend is grumbling the whole time he gets ready, and you felt guilty seeing his mood drop.

"He said it'd be quick, right? Just in and out." You say softly, kissing him while fixing up his tie.

"Yeah... I'll be back soon, okay?" He reassures you, cupping your cheek and stroking his thumb across your soft skin. He gazes into your eyes before bringing you in for a deeper kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"I love you, too." You whisper back with a giddy smile, leaning into him as he runs his hands down your body.

When Aaron finally makes his way out of the house and toward his car, Jack is getting back home from his date at the same time.

Jack looks at him in surprise and smiles a bit as he takes in his father's appearance. "Hey, dad. Going to work?"

Aaron nods and glances back at the house quickly. "Just for a bit. What time should I be out of the house tomorrow?"

Jack pauses and blanches. "Uh... what?"

"So Y/N has time to set up for the surprise party." Aaron answers with a fond grin, chuckling a bit to himself.

"You knew?" Jack deflates a bit and sighs.

"Yeah, I figured it out this morning." Aaron says, remembering the way you were lost in thought all day, with Dave's 'work emergency' call just confirming his suspicions.

Jack nods and smiles a bit in defeat. "Alright... Uhm, you should leave the house at like two tomorrow. Also, can you just pretend to be surprised tomorrow? She's been super stressed these past few days."

Aaron chuckles and nods, patting Jack on the shoulder before walking toward his car, speaking up a bit as he walks. "Don't worry, I was planning on it."

True to his words, and to your absolute cluelessness, Aaron plays up his delighted surprise the next day when his team members surprise him in his living room. Though, it wasn't too difficult considering how you and Jack had transformed the house in the time he was gone.

Seeing your beaming face across the room made going to the office all day worth it. As he thanked everyone for coming, he couldn't help but think about how he'd love to spend the rest of his birthdays with you.

As the night continues, genuine surprise colors his face when you finally give him your birthday gift to him after everyone settles down in the kitchen to eat.

He flips through the booklet you hand him with complete wonderment, looking at the various professional photos you had taken of yourself posed in lingerie. The photos looked like something straight out of a magazine, and your otherworldly beauty had his knees growing weak.

"Happy birthday, honey." You whisper sweetly into his ear, kissing his neck as his mind malfunctions for a moment. "Also... we have the house to ourselves tonight."

His hand moves down to grip your hip, softly groaning into your ear. "Is it too soon to tell everyone to get out of the house?"

You smile and kiss his jaw, pulling away from him and shaking your head. "Now, don't be like that. They're here to celebrate you after all." With that, you disappear into the kitchen as Aaron gazes after you in utter worship.

"Wicked, wicked woman." Aaron mumbles to no one in particular as he forces himself to go put the booklet away to rejoin the party.

He really couldn't wait for his next birthday.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds aaron #aaron hotch imagine

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bobluvbot · 8 months ago

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drivers license

pairing: james potter x f!reader summary: 'cause he said forever, but now you drive alone past his street. notes: muggle&modern!au, angst, reader gets in a slight panic attack. james as your high school bf :') first fic in a looong while, pls be nice! 2.6k wc

The moment you set the parking brake on, the evaluator began writing furiously on the long sheet of paper.

You should be combing through your actions and decisions for the twenty minutes that seemed to go by quickly, but you don’t. You know you did your best. You remembered what those green arrows and red signs meant. The yielding and the measured speeds. That the car follows where your eyesight lands so you have to be careful on what you set your focus on. Everything by the book.

Why is it that the things that stick would be those taught to us by the people who are simply not there anymore?

But then again, you remember that you also made hard brakes that made both you and the evaluator lurch an inch forward; and you got confused when he tried to distract you by fidgeting with the trinkets your mom left in her car and asking about it, like her work name tag. So who really knows if you get this or not?

You probably wouldn’t. Damn, you already bought your own key ring and neck pillows for this car, and your mom called off from work for this---

“..you’ll be getting your license in a few days or so in the mail so continue checking for that.”

Your what? You stare at the man blankly as he hands you the sheet before unbuckling his seatbelt. You could tell he was confused at your blank stare, so he reiterates, “You passed. You have to go inside to get your temporary license, ‘cause the card one will take a while to arrive.”

You could have gone with a more sensible, mature choice of words. He always gushed about how he loved your wit whenever you both were writing or doing something with words. He would get this idea of a feeling he wants to put down, but it couldn’t fit in the tone he was going for, so he’d ask you for a word or a phrase that encapsulated all that. It would be a perfect fit most of the time; and if it wasn’t, he’d work around it and be stubborn about not changing it ‘till he has to (even if you assure him many times that you won’t get mad). You asked him once why, and he says so nonchalantly, as if he did not set alight fireworks and butterflies in your chest, that his works are collages of his feelings, memories, and the people he loved most.

But despite all that, you were just able to give the evaluator an “Oh my god?!”, complete with a gaping mouth; to which he responds with an emotionless ‘congratulations’ before shutting the door and walking away.

When you got out of the car— still in disbelief and in confusion— you hyperfocus on how your parking was too askew that it took two spots in the lot.

You inwardly groan as the fact that you can legally be incarcerated now for driving above the speed limit when you’re late for class start to sink in more.

Your mom would probably be so giddy once you meet her at the waiting area, carrying that tiny white slip that had ‘temporary license’ plastered across it, since she’s not going to pay for driving school anymore, plus the fact that she’ll be free from having to drive you to school and around the city anymore.

To be honest, you weren’t planning for it to end like this. You– no you and James– actually had the perfect plan months prior. Test day would be on the twenty-fifth. You’d go around town by the twenty-sixth to go get party supplies, groceries for dishes he wanted to cook, and order his cake for pickup the day after. Then on his birthday, twenty-seventh of March, You’d come over to the Potter house to celebrate with everyone, and before the day ends, you’ll drive him around San Francisco. You’ll both pretend to be tourists, joining the crowd of visitors as they marvel at the city’s popular spots, as if you and James didn’t grow up having these places a short drive away.

You love your home. Even with the everpresent traffic, lack of decent parking, and ridiculous prices of nearly everything the city sports, going home to the suburbs everyday provided balance. ‘We have the best of both worlds’, James would say. ‘We both can go out and be whoever we want in the city, but we still have the familiar quiet to go home to.’

He made loving this place easier— even if you can’t walk to the nearest McDonalds anymore since it’s a good drive away, far from having your old school, the library, the park, and a Walmart being in the same plaza back in your former suburb, a few minutes away from Los Angeles. Everything was more spaced out here, but you never felt the gaps in between destinations. You didn’t need to, especially when there’s always James, his beloved blue Chevy pickup he inherited from Monty for his fifteenth birthday, and his endless stories about football team practice that day or the most recent shenanigans Sirius and him had devised during Minnie’s AP English class, that kept you company.

You grew to love this place as much you did home. So much so that you never considered leaving, while James apparently did.

“Y/N, do you still have somewhere to go? I’m heading in.” Your mom says as she taps on your window, shaking you from your reverie. You got home a while ago. She finished unloading all the groceries from the back to the kitchen inside. Those were multiple trips back and forth, yet you never noticed. A cold breeze runs past you despite the closed windows and you shiver. Not this again.

Rolling down your window, you give her the best smile you can muster up. “You can go ahead, Mom. I’ll try to drive around a bit on my own, you know, for practice.” You throw in an awkward chuckle hoping it was convincing enough for her to let you go.

“Don’t go too far now, it’s getting dark. Be back for dinner.”

You give her a nod and a smile. You wonder if she knew why, but you appreciate her for not prodding. You don’t even know why you’re acting like this.

After circling your block for the third time, you decide to park the car under a willow tree, taking time and effort to park flush against the curb for no reason at all. You just think maybe somewhere, somehow, a familiar voice will pop up behind you and gush about your near-perfect parking skills.

It was, what, two months ago?, that you saw that car sticker on James’ Etsy cart that said ‘cute girls hit curbs’. It was right after a (semi-successful) driving session after school, and James decided that it was a parallel parking day. He had knowingly directed you to a busy city street, where the only available parking was street parking, and everyone seemed to get the memo of his evil agenda and parked irregularly, leaving you with little to no choice but to squeeze your mom’s family van in between them.

With a number of curb hitting that would’ve sent your mother’s insurance agent to consider hiking up prices just for the fact, you were close to tears.

James was quick to drop his teasing smirk as he saw how your face fell, dejected. With a warm smile, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently reassured you, 'Hey, you did this perfectly on your own a few hours ago, you got this, doll.”

“No, James,” you choke out, trying to stifle down the sobs down your throat. Someone honks behind you, and your body took it as a cue to start hyperventilating, the shivers making its way down the nimble fingers clutching the wheel hard. “I don’t think I can, there’s so many cars—”.

James was quick to roll down his window to gesture something to the other car. Could be an expletive to tell them to fuck off or a kind wave to tell them to go ahead (James could’ve easily done both), but the car moves away nonetheless, returning you both back to the earlier predicament.

He tried to redirect your attention back to him without touching you, nicknames and encouraging words leaving his mouth out of habit. He learned from past experiences that in moments where you get overwhelmed with something, touch could either jolt you back to him or spur on a full on panic attack. His attempts were futile, however, as you were too entranced by watching the side mirror closest to you, flinching each time a car passes the van, even making it lurch forward if the oncoming traffic goes too fast and too close.

Unbuckling his seatbelt and placing the car on park in quick succession, he reached over the console and gently cupped your face in both his hands, tilting your chin up to meet his soft hazel gaze. James had always looked intimidating; the most rambunctious one in his kindergarten class, the one who stood up against taller students that pick on the quiet ones, and once the growth spurt kicked in he quickly rose up the ranks, from little league to your magnet high school’s uber-selective football team.

But he also had the kindest of eyes, those precious ones where you don’t even have to look hard and wonder what they’re feeling as it provides a window straight to their soul. It’s always a gift to feel his gaze on you, to have the privilege of knowing where the seven tiny specks of green in each iris merge with the honey brown.

He gently cupped your face in both hands, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me, pretty.”

James’ best trait was not patience, both of you had established that when you met in middle school. But when he got to know you and your tender-hearted nature, he tried his damndest to learn how. It’s crazy to think how much time spent in love can change a person inherently. You could’ve met James right then and there, and think he’s a natural.

You shift your focus on his warm palms on your trembling cheeks, on his steady breathing. It slowed yours and soon became in sync with his. “There’s my girl. Let’s try again, hm? I'll guide you through it.”

Compelled by a mystical force, likely strong love and devotion to the boy who sat beside you, who looked at you like you’re capable of doing all things beautifully (one of which is parallel parking, apparently), you found yourself behind the wheel again with renewed vigor.

As you carefully edged the car towards the parking spot, James leaned over, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. “A little to the left,” he murmured.

“Turn the wheel slowly.”

Firm hand on your shoulder, his steady presence gave you confidence to make adjustments based on your gut. “You're doing great, love.” You couldn’t see, but you felt the smile in James’ voice.

Before you knew it, you were parked, albeit a snug fit. You heard shuffling, then you were wrapped in a tight embrace, bodies twisted in weird angles because you both forgot that unbuckling the belts were an option. “Knew you could do it, baby.”

You tried to throw some light punches to his chest despite your difficult position. “I still hate you for subjecting me to Geary street traffic.”

“Gotta throw you out on the deep end to learn how to swim!” he’d said, earning him a slap on the chest.

You laughed at that time, but maybe you should’ve taken that as a hint to what came next.

To kill time, you decide to take a picture of your temporary license and edit it for an instagram story.

You get more and more lost through pictures and stories posted, trying to forget what you saw, that you forgot why you opened the app in the first place.

You wished, during the driving lessons, that you’d bothered to ask him, not only how to yield for an unprotected turn but also to live without him. So that you can make the most out of your senior year. So that you can drive around San Francisco without lugging a heavy heart. So that you could write songs again that weren’t about loss. So that you could be okay now that he’s gone.

Mom says he’s not gone gone. He’s just off to college. You would be, too, soon enough. You could go to Yale too so you can be together. You give her a nod to satisfy her, to let her know it was something you’re considering; but in all honesty, you just wanted her to stop.

You and James weren’t perfect. There were ugly fights and soaked pillows and days spent without talk, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything better. You learned to finally befriend life because hatred was just too consuming to carry everyday. It was replaced with something bright and lovely you can carry around to keep you company. You’ve never felt anything remotely similar to it before. Somehow, someway, the warmth always came by when James was with you.

One night while laying in his bed, after a long session of application essay revision, he tells you that Sirius broke off his long-term relationship because of college.

“What, why?”

He shrugs. “They’re heading to different ones.”

You were waiting for more details but he remained silent. “Just because of that?” You laugh. “That’s dumb.”

Now it was his turn to ask. “Why’s that?”

“It’s just college, Jamie. It’s just like when we go spend the holidays or summers with family. We don’t break up. We work around it. Because we know it’s not permanent. Nothing worth ruining a good relationship over.” You scoff, shifting your gaze from his hazel eyes to the white of your ceiling. “What a waste, I actually thought they were it for each other.”

He was silent. You turned to face him and he just gazed at you with an unreadable expression. “We’ll make it work like we always did, right, Jamie?”

He kissed your forehead in response. “Always.”

That was six months ago.

Your knuckles turn white, a stark contrast to the black leather as you clutch the wheel as hard as you can. You could barely see through the tears that run uncontrollably down your cheeks.

How can he be so okay now that I’m gone?

You floor the brakes hard, flinging yourself forward before getting yanked back by the seatbelt. Some kid had kicked their red and gold striped ball towards the street.

“Sorry!” You wave at the kids, signalling that it was okay. That they didn’t just give you a heart attack right then and there.

You wipe your tears away in haste. It’s probably time to head home. Maybe these rogue feelings were just due to your sugar levels dropping, making both your mind and vision hazy.

But when you check your left if there’s something there you could hit, your eyes get caught on a familiar view.

The Potter house. Same as before. It’s almost as if he’d go barreling out the doors to meet you outside, envelop you into a bear hug, and spin until you both feel dizzy with laughter. Now, his bedroom’s dark. A reminder that he’s not there. Your Jamie isn’t home anymore.

You head back to your house for dinner.

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x fem!reader #marauders era #marauders #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter oneshot #marauder x reader #young james potter

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scary-grace · 6 months ago

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Expiation - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

This is a birthday gift for @sophsiaaa based on a suggestion of a fantasy AU Shigaraki x reader. Happy birthday (although it's definitely a bit late)!

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 1

You hear the rumors long before you see him, but the story of his arrival is told to you so many times that it’s etched into your head. It was a beautiful spring day, the fields surrounding the castle bright with wildflowers, the air humming with butterflies and bees – the kind of day on which nothing bad is allowed to happen. And then the world went still. The sun seemed to dim. The air fell silent, empty of insects and birds, and even the flowers cringed away as he led his horse past, walking so slowly that it seemed he knew his presence poisoned the world, and reveled in it. The dark knight, the one they call the White Death. Shigaraki Tomura.

The rumors are terrible, and most of them are true, but no one finds the High Kingdom unless they were meant to be here. You remember the day you stumbled out of the Forest Perilous, last of a party of dozens who had all set out together, the only one to reach the castle. The castle chose you, the same as it chose everyone born outside the walls who now resides within. The same is true of Shigaraki Tomura – Sir Tomura, or Lord Tomura, anything but the dread title he’s earned on the battlefield. There is some purpose to his presence here, although neither you nor anyone else can imagine what it is.

Most knights come to the High Kingdom with squires and servants, hauling supplies and gifts and finery to please the king. The White Death comes alone, and bears no gift – no gift other than the one he’s rumored to have tossed at King Izuku’s feet. That rumor is terrible, too. But it it’s true, it means that Shigaraki Tomura crossed a line no one else had dared to touch – in taking on the King’s fated enemy, the man prophesied to destroy the High Kingdom, and slaying him himself. Tearing down his armies himself. Singlehandedly wrecking a prophecy that has hung over the Kingdom’s head since it was first spoken, a prophecy of death and destruction that would bring a mighty kingdom to its knees.

And you suppose it did. After all, the prophecy, never said it would be your kingdom that fell.

King Izuku offers Shigaraki Tomura a seat on his council, over the objections of the rest of the council. Shigaraki Tomura accepts. And then the question turns to where he should be house, and what level of opulence is appropriate for his room, and because the gods hate you or because you’re just unlucky, you’re assigned from all the servants to help him decorate it. To create a dwelling space fit for a hero, meant to house someone who cannot be called anything but a villain.

You knock hesitantly at the door, struggling to balance the heavy wooden chest you’re carrying at the same time. When that fails to produce a response, you call out, your voice thin as it echoes through the deserted wing of the palace. “Lord Tomura?”

The door unlocks with a sharp click, then swings open, and you suck in a breath. You heard he had magic – most in the High Kingdom do, you included – but it’s considered crass to flaunt it for things that could otherwise be done by hand. You step through the door into a large, empty room. The only features in it are a window without a single pane of glass, an armoire with doors gaping open, and a canopy bed bare of both canopy and sheets. The infamous white armor is piled in the corner of the room, along with the white sword his enemies call Decay. The White Death himself sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t look away from the spot on the wall where he’s fixed his eyes. “What do you want?”

“My Lord.” You bow, or curtsy, or do some awkward mix of both at once. It doesn’t matter. He’s not looking at you. “I was sent to help you put your room in order.”

“This is fine.” Shigaraki Tomura’s voice is flat and icy, devoid of anything but apathy. “The window is a nice touch.”

You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. You would be, if you were a knight and not a maid. “The window will be fixed, my Lord. In the meantime, I was sent to arrange the rest of your room. I’ve brought many things for you to choose from.”

“Many things.” He looks up at last, and you catch your breath at the sight of his crimson eyes. It’s all too easy to imagine his enemies freezing in terror, those eyes the last thing they saw before the darkness closed in. “That chest is too small for many things.”

“It’s larger on the inside,” you say. He raises an eyebrow – or he would, if he had them. “Do I have your leave to show you?”

“If it’s the case that you won’t leave me be until you do.” The White Death looks away, and you come a few steps closer. A few steps, and then a few more, until you can set the chest down within his eyeline and kneel down to open it. “What is that?”

“No one could tell me what you preferred, so I brought some of everything.” You were hoping to avoid being berated. You’re starting to think that’s unlikely. “There are sheets for the bed – and choices for the canopy, also. These are for the walls – most knights have tapestries made of your great deeds, but you’ve only just arrived. They won’t be ready for a little while.”

“Great deeds,” Shigaraki – Sir Tomura – sneers. Your ears burn. “Yes, I’m sure the weavers are lining up to chronicle mine.”

“If you say so, my Lord.” You lift out a set of curtains – curtains, for a broken window. Whoever left this for you to deal with, you hope they catch the plague. “Er, the window –”

“I didn’t say so,” Sir Tomura interrupts. You look up at him. “I have done no great deeds. It is no honor to be on your knees at my feet.”

“Pardon me, my Lord. I never said it was.”

You shouldn’t have spoken. You bow your head hastily, but not before you see a flash of interest in the White Death’s eyes. “A punishment, then. Tell me, who did you displease?”

“Nor did I say it was a punishment.” You’ve already gotten yourself in trouble. You may as well explain. “It is my duty to serve the nobles of the High Kingdom. You are one of them. And you’ve done the kingdom a great service.”

“I didn’t do it for you. Or for your wretched kingdom.” Sir Tomura is looking at you, still. You can feel the heat of his gaze on your shoulders, the exposed curve of your neck. “I might have destroyed your kingdom just as easily.”

You know that. It’s why everyone fears him, why a man with a lean, slender build casts such a long shadow. “Then why did you choose his?”

“You both wronged me. He wronged me worse.” Sir Tomura goes silent for a moment, and you dare a glance up at him. His face is still, the sneer long-gone. “And because you wronged me, too, you must suffer my presence. In honor of the great deed I have done.”

Now he sounds bitter, mocking – but not of you. He’s looking at you again. “And what terrible deed have you done, that you do not fear to raise your eyes to me?”

“Is that a requirement for meeting your eyes, my Lord?” It strikes you as an odd thing to say, when any other knight would remark on your temerity at gazing upon any noble’s face. “I did not come here to pass judgment on your deeds. I came to make your room a fitting place for a person to live.”

“Indeed,” Sir Tomura says. “But unlike the five maids who preceded you, you have not fled from the sight of me. Why?”

You would answer him if you knew, but you don’t. The rumors of him terrified you, the same as everyone else. You were frightened as you knocked at the door, frightened when you stepped into the room, and even though he’s weaponless, you have no doubt that he knows dozens of spells that will kill you where you stand. There is no doubt that the man in front of you is the White Death, the terror of battlefields across the known world, the ruination of a kingdom most thought would stand forever and the slayer of a king most thought could not be killed and the destruction of a prophecy that went unchallenged for a hundred years. You should be terrified, just as you were before, and you’re certainly wary. But you aren’t frightened any longer.

The White Death is waiting for an answer. “If I had an answer, I would give it, my Lord,” you say. You look away and begin to unpack from the chest. “Does my Lord have a preference as to colors?”

“No.” Sir Tomura’s voice carries an odd rasp, whether he’s scornful or not. “Do what you want.”

So he’ll allow you to complete your task. You wonder if the five maids who apparently preceded you tried to hold a conversation, or if they simply ran away the instant he opened the door. Some part of you wants to decorate his room in bright colors, something cheerful, but you don’t have the sense that he’ll appreciate it. You’d be better off giving him something to look at, since he spends so long staring off into space. You choose fabrics in muted colors, woven with small illusions here and there, patterns that move and change in response to the human eye. It’s likely that Sir Tomura will spend a lot of time here. He doesn’t seem to like people very much. His room should at least be a pleasant place to be.

When you’ve covered key portions of the walls, leaving space for the inevitable tapestries, you move on to laying out rugs. The stone floors in the castle are cool in the summer, cold in the winter, and Sir Tomura’s feet are bare, his boots kicked into the same pile as his sword and armor. You don’t have as many choices with the rugs. They are nothing but bright colors, woven together from scraps of fabric, and you lay them out hastily, hoping he continues to prefer staring at walls to staring at floors. Then you turn your attention to the armor. It needs to be stored properly, and there isn’t a stand in the room.

You turn to face Sir Tomura and find that he’s already watching you. “If you give me leave, my Lord, I’ll retrieve a stand for your armor.”

“It can stay where it is.”

Most knights pride themselves on their armor. Most pride themselves too much. “Won’t it rust?”

“Until it crumbles away. I don’t care.”

You don’t understand. “Sir –”

“It’s no use to me any longer.” Sir Tomura rises from the bed for the first time and crosses the room, moving with catlike grace. He lifts the breastplate from the pile one-handed and holds it out for you to inspect. You can’t miss the problem – it’s been cleaved almost in two by a single strike, torn apart as only cursed steel can do. “It can’t be fixed.”

“The best smiths in the world work here,” you venture. Sir Tomura scoffs. “They reforged One For All, and that sword was broken into nine pieces.”

“Yes, we’ve all heard the story. Good King Izuku gathered the nine pieces of One For All and proved he was the rightful king.” The disdain in the White Death’s voice is withering. “The rightful king, but not a good one. The king before him was worthless, and the queen before him, too – they let their greatest enemy grow and prosper, throughout their entire reigns.”

“They fought back,” you protest. “Queen Nana was killed fighting him – King Toshinori was badly wounded –”

“And King Izuku never tried,” Sir Tomura sneers. “In spite of their goodness, they turned away. They were too good to do what had to be done, so it fell to me to slay the monster and tear down his throne.”

Sir Tomura wasn’t mentioned in the prophecy. Why would it fall to him? “And look what I’ve done,” he continues. A harsh laugh tears free from his throat. “Spared a kingdom of cowards and fools from destruction they deserve only slightly less.”

The questions bursts out of you. “If you despise us so much, why did you come here?”

“This kingdom owes me a debt,” Sir Tomura says. “I have nowhere else to go.”

You have nothing to say in response to that. You expect Sir Tomura to look pleased at silencing you, but he doesn’t. “Receive a stand for my armor if you wish it,” he says, and you depart, feeling sick to your stomach.

The White Death’s words cling to you as you search for a spare armor stand. What had to be done. What could he mean by that? What would the White Death do that the good kings and queens of your kingdom wouldn’t try? The answer occurs to you at once. Dark magic. Magic that corrupts the mind and soul, magic that leaves cursed wounds and blighted lands in its wake. Of course the kings and queens of the High Kingdom would never do such a thing. But if that was what it would take to end the Enemy’s reign of terror, then maybe –

It’s not your place to decide such things. You find a spare stand in the armory and cart it back to the deserted wing of the palace, only to be accosted on the way by the tailor Hakamada. “You’re attending him? Good. These are for the feast tonight.”

He thrusts a package into your arms, even though your hands are already full. “Ensure he wears them. His presence is an affront, but he’ll be properly dressed if it’s the last thing I do.”

Given that Hakamada isn’t the one forcing the new clothes on Sir Tomura, it’s more likely to be the last thing you do. You set off again, struggling under the weight of both the package and the stand at once.

Sir Tomura seems surprised that you’ve returned, but he doesn’t mock you over it – yet. He allows you to set up the stand, and to begin to store his armor properly, although he refuses to allow you anywhere near the sword. “It’s cursed,” he says, even though you didn’t ask. “Once it tastes a victim’s blood, that person is doomed to wither and rot. Did you know that?”

“I heard rumors,” you say carefully. “There are many rumors about you.”

“They aren’t rumors if they’re true,” Sir Tomura says. “Almost all of them are.”

It doesn’t surprise you that the White Death knows his own legends. “Which ones aren’t?”

Sir Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s investigating the package from Hakamada, which you set down on the end of the still-unmade bed. You, meanwhile, find yourself transfixed by the tear in the breastplate of his armor. It’s been split nearly in half. You lean closer, paper and fabric rustling behind you, in order to peer at the edges of the breastplate, the padding inside, and a needle of shock and fear drives itself through you. All of it is stained with blood. “My Lord –”

You turn to find yourself facing Sir Tomura half-dressed, in clean breeches and bare feet, having just removed his shirt. His bare skin is laced with scars, some old and some newer, but none so terrible as the enormous wound in his chest, so fresh it can barely be called healed. It matches the tear in the breastplate exactly. Sir Tomura glances at the breastplate, then at you. Then he turns away.

“My Lord,” you start, “if you need a healer –”

“It’s a cursed wound,” Sir Tomura says. “It will never heal.”

That was in the prophecy, too – something about a blow from which the victor will never recover. You know it’s half the reason King Izuku held off. He has no heir, nor an obvious successor among his advisors, and everyone assumed the blow described in the prophecy would be fatal. You mind feels frozen, caught between horror and sadness and trapped in confusion. If what everyone says is true, and it is, Shigaraki Tomura is a monster. If what everyone says is true, and it is, King Izuku is a good king. If both of those things are true, then why did the monster fulfill the prophecy? Why has the good king offered him so meager a welcome? You don’t know what to do with the White Death, who saved your kingdom, whose infamous fury has yet to make an appearance since he arrived at the castle. Neither does anyone else.

Sir Tomura is fumbling with his new shirt, cursing. You abandon the armor and come forward. “May I help, my Lord?”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t refuse, and you take the risk of helping anyway, straightening the useless ruffles, doing up the pearl buttons, staying well clear of the terrible wound. “It takes a monster to slay a monster,” the White Death says, as you smooth out the lines of his shirt. “And now you all must live with the monster that survived.”

He looks down at you, the ghost of the sneer from before distorting his features. “Is that pity I see on your face? Save your pity. It’s useless to me.”

“I don’t pity you,” you say. You can’t – not when he’s done such terrible things, not when you can’t begin to calculate whether what he did in fulfilling the prophecy cancels any of them out. But you do feel something. You can be honest about that. “I was thinking that it was a brave thing to do, my Lord. To face the Enemy when you weren’t the chosen one, and knowing that the consequences were severe even if you should win. That is all.”

A hint of surprise crosses Shigaraki Tomura’s face. “Do the words monster and villain mean nothing to you?”

“They do,” you say. “But I have never seen it written that a monster cannot be brave. Or that a villain must always be a villain.”

The White Death scoffs. “Are you waiting for me to become a true knight?”

“Only as long as you would wait for me to become a fair lady,” you say. “That is to say, a very long time.”

“A long time to become a lady, perhaps.” Sir Tomura extends one hand towards you, slowly, as though he’s expecting you to flinch or bolt. “You were fair before you knelt at my feet.”

You’re not sure what he means to do with his hand, but you reach out and capture it anyway. There’s only one thing you can think of to do, and you do it – bow low over it to kiss his knuckles, just as you’ve seen lords do for their ladies a thousand times. And you speak, words you’re certain no one has uttered since he arrived. “Thank you for what you did. Even if it was not done for us,” you say. “And thank you, too, for saying I was fair. You did not need to say that.”

“I didn’t lie.” Sir Tomura has yet to take his hand back. You don’t know what to do but keep holding it. “It seems that you are in my debt now.”

Just like that, you’re nervous again. You know what knights often ask, or demand, from the women who cross their paths. “How shall I repay it?”

“This feast,” the White Death says. You look up, startled. “You will accompany me.”

“My Lord –”

“Since I have arrived here, no one has met my eyes, nor spoken to me as you have.” He’s averting his eyes from yours now. “I would like to spend one evening in the company of someone who does not find my company torturous.”

“I would, my Lord, but it is simply not done.” You’re surprised at how upsetting it is to be unable to grant such a simple wish. You let go of his hand and drop into a curtsy, replacing the distance that should exist between you, rather than the odd intimacy of the last few moments. “No true knight would bring a servant as his companion to a royal feast.”

“I see,” Sir Tomura says. His hand slips beneath your chin, tilting your face upwards, and you see that same flash of interest in his red eyes. This time it has staying power, as his callused hand molds to the shape of your jaw and his lips curve into the first smile you’ve seen from him. “It’s fortunate, then, that I am no true knight.”

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #x reader #reader insert #a bisquared production

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erikahenningsen · 10 months ago

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more prompts because i am eating up every single thing you write i love making it 2018 again: 10 or 31

10. “Teach me how to play?”

Regina hasn't been in Janis's garage in years.

It's almost exactly how she remembers it: the worn couch, the art supplies strewn everywhere, their organization a method known only to Janis.

And, on a stool next to an easel, Janis—strumming on her guitar.

"Hey," Regina says, stepping over a box of what looks like dolls and stuffed animals.

Janis looks up, her fingers stilling. "Hey?" she says, looking a little confused.

"You left your jacket at Gretchen's house last night," Regina says, holding up the denim jacket with the elaborately painted back, which she had found thrown across a couch while helping Gretchen clean up after yesterday's party.

Nobody needs to know that, in the privacy of her room, Regina had slipped her arms into the sleeves and admired the jacket, taking secret thrill in how it smelled like Janis's perfume.

"Oh," Janis says, looking surprised. "Thanks. I forgot about that."

"I figured," Regina says, "since, you know. I have it and you don't."

Internally, Regina cringes a little, but Janis just looks amused. She starts strumming the guitar again, and jerks her chin in the direction of a chair a few feet away. "You can leave it there. Thanks."

Regina slides the jacket over the back of the chair and lingers, a little awkwardly, not sure if she should leave now that she's accomplished her task.

"What are you playing?" Regina asks.

"Just some song Damian and I were writing for fun," Janis says, smiling a little. "Tentatively titled 'A Cautionary Tale.'"

"It's catchy," Regina offers.

"Thanks."

Regina remembers weekends in middle school spent in this garage, Janis's fingers clumsily feeling out chords on the guitar she had just been gifted for her birthday. Regina had always wanted to learn, but she didn't want to break her nails.

Today, Regina can't believe how silly some of her priorities were when she was younger. What else had her insecurities caused her to miss out on?

"Teach me how to play?" Regina asks, the words leaving her mouth before she can think too hard about them.

Janis's fingers still. "Really?"

"Um," Regina says, "yes?"

"Well... okay," Janis says, gesturing for Regina to sit, and then handing her the guitar. "I'll teach you a couple chords."

Regina settles her arms around the instrument, letting Janis move the fingers on her left hand on the right strings. She's so close Regina can hear her breathing, smell the same perfume that had lingered on the jacket, can see where Janis's eyeliner has smudged a little in the corner of her left eye.

"And then you..." Janis lifts Regina's right wrist, dragging her fingers across the strings. The guitar sings the opening strains of the song Janis had just been playing, and Regina tries to ignore how it feels like sparks are zipping up her arm from where Janis is touching her.

"There you go," Janis says, looking pleased, and Regina reflexively smiles back, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"Stay tuned for my EP," Regina jokes, and when Janis laughs, it's the best sound she's heard in a long time.

Regina almost doesn't notice when the nail on her right middle finger breaks.

Almost.

#katie i am picking up what you are putting down #rejanis #mean girls #mean girls the musical #mean girls 2024 #the fourth wall is translucent #ask #ajmichalka #prompts

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new-tella-us · 2 months ago

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Shard wrong Mika does to surprise each of the boys? How do they react to the surprise?

Not sure what "shard wrong" means but if Mika were to surprise the boys, it would be dependent on the reason for the surprise. So lets say a birthday surprise. Demons don't really have birthday but they do seem to know the season that they were born in so Mika would ask them to choose a random day from their season and not tell them that it's gunna function as their "birthday".

First off the general surprise for any of the boys would have presents, balloons, food (a lot of food honestly), and just a LOT. The more custom responses would come from the place that Mika would take each boy to.

For James- Since it would be some time in Fall, I can see Mika taking James out for a nice walk, away from all of their responsibilities. The autumn leaves and cool air would bring a nice atmosphere. Then maybe they can get a hotel in a different town, dinner, exploring the town. Yknow a mini vacation. James wouldn't really know how to process all this attention and consideration, he's used to being the person that would plan this sort of event. Though after he gets over the initial shock, he would really appreciate the effort and genuinely have fun.

For Erik- His is in winter so ice skating! The lake that Mika mentions in a Seduce Me Episode would be frozen over so it could be perfect for skating. Then some shopping for some fabric to supply Erik's budding interest in fashion (assuming this is Pre-Demon War) and then finally they go to the skyscraper I talked about from my dream. That could be the day Erik revealed what happened to his eye. Erik would be really happy over this gesture. It's not every day he gets spoiled so rotten. He'll return the favor for her birthday.

For Sam- His is also winter so snowball fight! They go to the park, now covered in a blanket of snow and Mika gets the devious idea to launch a snowball at Sam, unaware of the war she would start in that park. Then they could go to the roof of the Anderson estate like they did in game and watch the sunset. Sam would be too busy having fun to question why Mika would spend time to make him happy... at least until the end of the day, then that's all he can think about. Maybe his mother's teachings about kindness had truth to them.

For Matthew- Our only spring birthday is enjoying his birthday in the butterfly garden! Full of flowers and of course, butterflies of different kinds. Maybe they can even go to the zoo for more animal research. Of course Simon Tabby will cause some mischief to make the day harder but they'll find a way to enjoy it and it ends with some karaoke. Matthew would be elated all day, the garden would remind him of his mother, a little bittersweet but it's pleasant memories. He's got a big smile on his face while also planning his counterattack one day. In his eyes, someone willing to do so much for really no reason is a person worth protecting.

For Damien- He's another fall baby and it would be hard to keep this a surprise from him because mind reading so which Mika concedes to the knowledge that Damien will know about the birthday party, where she puts her focus is in making sure he doesn't find out the big surprise. The day would be walking around the city, window shopping, simple stuff that Damien would like to do just to feed his curiosity about the world. And then, at the end of the day, Mika takes Damien into the woods nearby the house and reveals an overgrown grotto. The lush greenery and the sunset light make it look almost otherworldly. And this place is just for them, the others don't know about it. Damien would be very close to crying. The kindness shown by this girl who has no real reason to be so nice is overwhelming. Plus he's being included in an exclusively human event so it makes him feel more human. Mika is getting a big bear hug after this!

#seduce me the otome #seduce me demon war #seduce me the complete story #seduce me mika #seduce me james #seduce me erik #seduce me sam #seduce me matthew #seduce me damien #seduce me situations

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starrystevie · 2 years ago

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the steddie and the last of us hyperfixations are merging so here: steve and eddie as episode 3.

steve who thought he lost everything after their final fight with vecna. they won, really they did, but he lost. most of the party didn't make it out of the war and those that did left hawkins as fast as they could along with the rest of the town. he doesn't blame them for getting out of a cursed town.

but then it's just steve, left alone in his house that was always too empty anyway. over the years of dealing with bumps in the night and being paranoid of any sounds he hears in the woods, he gets to work making the fortress. he drives into the now barren downtown and picks up whatever supplies he can, pipes and wires and batteries and anything that looks like he could wield it like a weapon. every room in the house gets stocked with at least one louisville slugger full of nails that's close enough to reach at all times.

it takes years but he digs trenches in the yard that mr. harrington looked after with such pride and care, deep enough that if demogorgans found him to finish the job, they'd get stuck in the deep holes. steve never saw himself as the handyman type, but when there's infinite free time and nothing else to do other than fiddle around with tripwires or projectiles, he gets good at it.

it's 2001 when the alarm goes off for more than just an animal getting caught with a trap in the woods. steve's grown older, grown wiser, grown harder in solitude, so he doesn't even think to check who might be screaming for help in one of his trenches. nothing could last out there for longer than a few days, what with how rough the indiana winters have gotten. he figures his mind is playing tricks on him when the voice starts to sound like eddie but... different.

"steve, come on! i know you're still in there!" if it was eddie, he sounds older. if it was really eddie, he would have already been inside with steve. but the real eddie died in 1986 and didn't get to make it to his 35th birthday earlier that year.

but there's something that has him wanting to check. needing to see with his own eyes that it couldn't possibly be eddie, that it's some cruel trick of vecna side effects that has him thinking of someone who could have been someone to him. steve grabs his rifle, slings it over his shoulder and takes his trusted handgun steadily in his right hand before opening the back door.

when he gets to the trench, his heart stops and his grip gets ever tighter on his gun.

"steve," eddie breathes out. his hair is peppered grey, stubble covering his chin and cheeks, and his damned smile-

"what are you?" steve says, his voice cold and calculated, eyes narrowing as he looks at what couldn't possibly be eddie. it couldn't.

"it's- i'm eddie, man."

and maybe steve's been left alone for too long. maybe his house has grown too cold with someone there to warm it up. maybe steve feels 19 again with butterflies flying up from his stomach into his throat when he sees what couldn't possibly be eddie smile. maybe he should care, but he can't make himself be careful, not when he's been so heartbreakingly lonely for 15 years. he's allowed to not be careful.

so steve reaches down a hand to help him up and thinks about what he'll cook for eddie as a welcome home dinner.

#i could write SO much more to this but i don't want to subject yall to all that #plus i'm sure this has already been written before so i'll be on the hunt for that #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet

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sundove88 · 1 year ago

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Cookie Run Kingdom- Cheesyitis (Based on Frozen Fever)

Golden Cheese, Princess, Cavatappi, and the others plan a special birthday celebration for Mimolette months after her return, but when Goldie catches a cold, her Ancient Cookie powers put more than just the party at risk.

The Cheese Triplets, Casu Marzu, and some other characters belong to me.

Princess Professor Mimolette, Prince Professor Cavatappi, Lil Mac, and a few others belong to @thetropicalfairy

It had been a few months after Princess Professor Mimolette Cookie had returned after an epic journey to find her and her parents. But today, Golden Cheese was extra busy- for it was her daughter’s surprise birthday party. She wanted her to have something to remember, especially with her whole family and all of her friends and allies around. “Come on, Goldie. This is for Mimi! You can do this!” She nervously said as she placed the crystal butterfly cake topper on the cake, which was decorated with sugar crystals and fake sugar butterflies. “Relax, Mom in Law! It looks great!” Prince Professor Cavatappi, her son in law, said. “I just want her to have something to remember.” The golden sovereign replied as she walked over, while Pure Vanilla Cookie arranged flowers from Mimi’s garden, Hollyberry Cookie and her family supplied berry juice by the bottle, and Dark Cacao Cookie plus his son Dark Choco Cookie and wife ChocoPearl Cookie cut up paper chains. Sparkling supplied his signature juice; Cocoa helped make the hot cocoa bar, Herb helped with the table settings, Mint Choco and DJ chose some party tunes, and Vampire plus his sister Alchemist handled the piñata.

“Speaking of which, check this out!” Cavatappi answered, revealing a banner he and his nieces + nephews made that said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIMI” in bright letters. “Everyone, are you sure I can leave you in charge here?” Golden Cheese replied. “Of course you can!” Madeleine said as he got the party games set up while Espresso got a brewing station ready. “Because I don’t want anything to go wrong today.” Goldie replied as she flew over. The cheesebird triplets giggled as they ate some of the miniature cupcakes, which looked like Cheesebeetles. “Kids, those are for the party!” Sosha, their mother replied as she flew over with their father, Danby. “Yes, Mama and Papa.” The trio, made up of Fontina, Colby, and Brie said as they flew towards their parents. Prince Mac N Cheese Cookie, their neighbor and Goldie’s grandson, flew over as well. Then, Golden Cheese knew that the party was about to start for real. “Two things- One, Make sure to not let anyone in until we’re ready; and two, Keep an eye on everything, got it?” She said as she flew away quickly. “Got it!” Princess Cookie shouted as she, her sister Tiger Lily, Tea Knight and Eclair hung up balloons and streamers; while Cheesecake, Birthday Cake, Piñata, and Firecracker handled the rest of the decor. “What could possibly go wrong today?” Parmesan, Golden Cheese’s husband, said with a smile as he tied a few more ribbons. Burnt Cheese, Mozzarella, and Smoked Cheese also helped decorate too.

Inside her daughter’s house, Golden Cheese smiled as she approached her sleeping daughter. “Wake up, sweetie. It’s your birthday!” Mimolette sat up and gasped. “I-It’s my birthday?!” She said as she leapt to her feet. “Yes! I know how much you missed when you, your friends, and your father and I celebrated your birthday, so we’re going to make this one your best one yet!” Golden Cheese said, only for her to sneeze and two Cheesebirds to appear out of nowhere. Neither mother or daughter noticed. “But first, let’s get dressed!” Goldie said as both of them got dressed in party dresses with butterflies and jewels, respectively, while having their tiaras on as well. “Now… for the presents!” She squealed.

Laughing, mother and daughter followed a long string that the Ancients had wound through the kingdom, leading Mimi to various different gifts. Inside one of Tea Knight’s suits, was a silver butterfly bracelet. Inside one of Eclair’s cabinets, lay a Parfaedia snowglobe. And on the balcony of Hollyberry’s vacation home, there was a bouquet of desert flowers. Mimolette was so happy! But Goldie sneezed AGAIN. More Cheesebirds popped out of nowhere and flew to the ground. Both still didn’t even notice! The Cheesebirds flew into the party venue, where Lil Mac was thrilled to see them. “Hi, little guys!!” He squealed. “Uh oh…!” Cavatappi’s siblings said in unison as they placed the food on the buffet table. The Brave Gang immediately took action as well, stopping all the decorating and immediately chasing after the little birds.

Mimi and Goldie followed the string all across The Cookie Kingdom. Along the way, Mimi discovered more presents: A family portrait, a Cheesebird Doll, and even a fishing Rod! But Golden Cheese was sneezing way more often. And each time she sneezed, more Cheesebirds appeared. The pair didn’t see any of them. Finally, Mimolette broke the ice. “This day’s been amazin’. But I think ya need to get back home and rest.” “Wait! There’s more, sweetie!” Golden Cheese persuaded. She then led her daughter to The Squirrel Shop, where she presented her daughter with a gorgeous butterfly wing style cloak. The Maestro Sugar Gnome stepped out of the door and noticed Golden Cheese sneezing. “How about some medicine for you?” He asked. Mimi took the bottle without hesitation. “We may or may not need that.” Later, Goldie took Mimi to the Kingdom Plaza, where Lil Mac’s friends had another surprise for her. “Happy birthday, Princess Professor!” Gumball Cookie said as he unveiled a mural he had made himself. Goldie turned to her daughter. “They absolutely love you, Mimi- AHH, AHHH, AAAAACCCHHOOOOO!!”

More Cheesebirds appeared out of nowhere and flew into the venue. The Triple Cone Trio, Cavatappi, and the others tried to get things under control; but the little birds where all over the place! Cream Puff Cookie noticed the birds flying towards the cake. She conjured up a spell to keep them away. “Protecticus… Cakeicus!” She shouted as she shielded the cake while Walnut Cookie tore up some bread and got the birds away. Suddenly, the flock of Cheesebirds perched on the banner and wrecked it, sending pages everywhere! Prune Juice Cookie grinned. “We’ll get it!” He shouted. Cavatappi caught each of the Cheesebirds in the bowl just as the Triple Cone Trio finished repairing the banner. Capsaicin Cookie smiled. “All done!” He shouted. Kouign Amann Cookie grinned in return. “Whaddya think?” She asked. Cavatappi was horrified as he saw The Triple Cone Trio hanging from the banner. “PHAPY RHABDIOM TIMIY?!” Almond and Latte couldn’t help but laugh.

At the same time, Golden Cheese had led Mimolette to the last stop. There Was just a single gift left hidden in the Cookie Castle. But Mimi’s arms were filled to the brim with presents, and Goldie’s cold was getting worse. Mimolette persuaded her mom, “Please, Mom. Ya need to get some rest!” Golden Cheese wasn’t listening, though. She was feeling a bit… feverish as she flew up the stairs to the top of the castle. “It’s your happy birthday, my darling,” she sang. “Happy, jolly, hot, hot, birthday…” But just before Golden Cheese lost her balance, Mimi dropped the gifts and flew down to catch her. “Mom, ya practically have a fever! We need to get ya to bed.” “I really am that sick.” Golden Cheese admitted. She sighed as her daughter helped her through the venue gates. “I’m so sorry, Mimi. I ruined your perfect birthday.” But Mimolette just smiled. “Ya didn’t screw up anythin’, mom. Everythin’ was truly—!”

“SURPRISE!!!” Mother and daughter stopped short. Everyone Mimi had helped, was friends with, all of her students, and her whole extended family were all there in the venue- surrounded by who knows how many little Cheesebirds! “Wow!” Mimi said, ecstatically. “Wow.” Golden Cheese replied, shocked. Everyone ran up to Mimolette and hugged her, wishing the Princess Professor a happy birthday- especially Royalberry, Jungleberry, and Dark Choco, her three bestest friends of all. Princess and Tiger Lily, caught up in the excitement, ran up to her and tackle-hugged her. “Happy birthday! We love you, Mimi!” Then the guests stopped, stunned by what Princess had said.

Mimi had grinned at her biggest fan; then she turned to her mom. “Ok; mom. Time to go to bed.” But Goldie was persistent. “Wait! All that’s left is for the queen to blow the Birthday Bukkehorn!” She shouted. Mimolette knew what was going to happen next. “Nonononononono!” She replied. “ACHOO!” The Queen sneezed out Puffington, a massive Cheesebird, who was sent flying to Beast Yeast. Meanwhile, Casu Marzu Cookie, the Queen’s traitorous former advisor, was muttering her next plan… only to get crushed by Puffington himself. The other Cookies of Darkness burst out laughing, while Casu growled and flipped off the royals for not inviting her to the party.

But Mimi was still smiling when she tucked her mom into bed not long afterwards, giving her some nice hot soup she had made herself. “Thanks, Mom. That was the greatest birthday present ever.” She said. Golden Cheese looked at her daughter. “Which one?” “Me finally havin’ a genuine birthday party with everyone I know and love… and you finally letting me take care of ya.” At those words, Goldie embraced her daughter without hesitation. “I love you too, sweetie. Happy birthday.” She said as Sosha and Danby, dressed as a doctor and nurse; landed near her as she sneezed again, summoning their neighbors from their homeland. But not long after the party, Lil Mac was riding his tricycle with the triplets in the basket, leading a parade of Cheesebirds through the kingdom. Cavatappi sighed as he laid on the shoulders of his parents, Fusilli and Ravioli. “Don’t ask.” He said to them with an exhausted sigh. It had been a long day indeed.

The End

#one shot #fanfic #crack fic #funny #frozen fever #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run ovenbreak #crob #Cheesebirds #I wanna tag everyone but I can’t!

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noisycowboyglitter · 3 months ago

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corner-stories · 5 months ago

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28 + jeankasa

June Prompts 🌼

28. Dragonfly when you finally have an opportunity to play with the School Teacher AU in your head (ao3.)

Themed days at the Academy lead to the break room looking more colorful than usual, and it's not just because of the decorative streamers lining the walls. So on a day in mid-spring, the aptly named 'Bug & Insect Day' puts the typical 'Pyjama Day' or 'Backwards Day' to shame.

As the name suggests, the students are encouraged to come dressed as a bug or insect of their choice. Teachers were told to do the same to keep up the spirit. Most seemed to pick butterflies, bumblebees, or ladybugs, but a bold few decided to go against the grain and opted to for the dung beetle or praying mantis.

Jean himself is sporting some of "the goods" that Sasha grabbed for them, said "goods" being whatever bug-themed party supplies she could find at the back of a discount store.

For that Jean is thankful, though it's through this he had discovered that most people would prefer to be a butterfly or a caterpillar, not the awkward in-between stage. So as a result, he sports a rather gnarly chrysalis-themed hat — the kind best worn to a child's birthday party — as he enjoys his mid-day coffee. But he doesn't mind, as the need to caffeinate himself takes priority.

Jean sits at his usual table and nurses his mug. Across from him is Sasha, who seems keen on utilizing as much bug-themed accessories as she can. Clearly, she's determined to get her money's worth after getting elbow-deep into a discount bin. Though the combination of the ladybug headband, butterfly glasses, and numerous bumblebee bracelets make her look like someone who took a wrong turn from a very peculiar rave.

As Jean sips his coffee, his eyes glance to the door of the break room and like clockwork she's there.

As to be expected, Mikasa enters the space midway into recess. Her disposition is quiet — it's hard to tell if such thing stems from her nature in general or because she spends most mornings leading an orchestra of seven-year-olds. Maybe she saves whatever energy she has for her students, undoubtedly the smarter choice to make even if it leaves her drained for anything else. Her reticence is a common sight, but such seriousness is amusingly tempered by the buggy glasses on her face.

Jean can't help but smile at her, just like he always does, but once he does he remembers that he's in the presence of prying eyes. He shoots a look across the table and spots Sasha, who's mischievous grin reminds him of the time his students thought it would be funny to put a thumbtack on his chair and watch their French teacher tumble to the ground.

Sasha doesn't need to say anything. Or at least, anything related to what she knows is going on. Though she's professional enough to not gossip on the clock, the concept of the French teacher pining after the newly-transferred music teacher is a little too juicy to ignore. Her eyes are locked onto Jean's as she sips her coffee, then after a moment she holds her mug out towards him.

"Monsieur Kirschtein, will you be a dear and get me a little more milk?" she asks in a comically bad French accent. "I did not get enough for... how you say... myself?"

Jean rolls his eyes and wonders if Sasha remembers that he's actually from Montreal. But after taking another sip from his own coffee he obliges. With two mugs in hand he stands from the table and crosses the break room. He walks to the main counter and as per usual, Mikasa is there.

Like everyone else she's taking her share from the communal coffee pot, the one that's probably been around since the stone age. Jean is pulling a carton out of the fridge and fulfilling Sasha's task, but as he pours discounted almond milk his mug and hers, he looks to the side and catches sight of the music teacher.

Their gazes meet, and under normal circumstances such thing would leave him utterly tongue-tied, but seeing her now with the dashing pair of bug-glasses brings a smile to his face.

"Are you done with the milk?" Mikasa asks, and Jean nods.

He hands the carton over and tries not to think too much of their fingers grazing. He watches as she pours the milk into her coffee, internally bemoaning himself for being so pathetic. He sees her every day and sometimes talking to her feels like a task that requires Herculean strength.

"I like your..." Jean begins, then glances up to meet her eyes. The fact that she's looking at him back makes his heart beat just a little bit faster. "...house-fly glasses."

There is a beat, then suddenly the tables turn. Now it's Mikasa's turn to hold herself with the kind of subtle embarrassment that most adults wear when they've been caught off-guard.

"Oh..." she begins, looking down slightly. Awkwardly, she moves them up over her eyes so they rest on her forehead. "The lady at the store said these were dragonflies."

Jean lets out a chuckle, one that doubles as a mild breath of relief.

"... then I like your dragonfly glasses," he corrects. "They suit you."

Her dilemma fades away, and in its place is a very slight smile. Jean thinks this might be the first time he had seen her do so in the confines of the break room. Like the glasses, it suits her.

"...thank you," Mikasa tells him shyly. She takes in a breath and finally meets his eyes again. More confidently, she says — "Thank you."

#jeankasa #jeanmika #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #mikasa ackerman #modern au #school teacher au #snk #ask box memes #i'm already planning out this AU in my head #help it's a sickness

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squishmallowmerch · 9 months ago

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bookmyballoons · 1 year ago

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yoshy-sann · 5 months ago

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Darcie - My Dear Hatchet Man Oc

- Name: Darcie Klein (Real Name: Marina Wilkes)

- Gender: Demigirl

- Pronouns: She/They

- Age: 22

- Height: 168cm (5'6 ft)

- Birthday: November 15th

- Zodiac sign: Scorpio

- Eyes: Blue

- Hair: Auburn (roots dyed: blue) (Real color hair: Dark brown)

- Personality: Childish, Serious, Caring, Understanding

- Likes: Painting, Fresh air, Rain/Thunderstorms

- Dislikes: Being late, Math, Insects (except for butterflies)

- Tattoos: 1 (underboob tattoo)

- Favorite Color: Yellow & Brown

- Favorite flowers: Lilies & Iris

- Favorite animal: Foxes & Bears

- Sexuality: Demiromantic

BACKGROUND:

- She was born into a mafia family

- She was always surrounded by wealth

- At 10, she started getting into the family business, but the light stuff, like paperwork, training, psychology. Then at 15 she was now trained to do the hardcore stuff, but she didn't like it, she HATES it.

- They always found a way to avoid it and succeeded due to her well planned training (reverse psychology type stuff)

- At 16, they tried to escape twice but failed. At 17, during a party, their escape plan worked successfully

- Since they knew how to falsify documents, she already had some documents and resume to find a job as soon as they felt safe

- By 18 - 19, she had enough money saved to change her appearance and documents. They changed their name, they cut their hair and dyed the roots, and also got a tattoo

- While this was happening, she got a partner, but it didn't last long

- In her 20s, she completed a GED and applied for college

FACTS:

• She hates her real name

• She overthinks sometimes

• They want to have a pet raccoon

• They have the jellyfish hairstyle

• Their tatto is a butterfly (her favorite and ONLY insect she likes)

• Her dorm is decorated with pieces of her artwork, art supplies and pebbles she casually finds on the street

• They like to play in the mud

• She wishes it could rain on her everyday just for the refreshing feeling of water droplets bring to her

• She usually sleeps early and wakes up just in time to get ready without a hurry

• She dresses in a grungy style (which doesn't match her personality - some have said)

• She's submissive. She's not a virgin but she's inexperienced on the topic

• Her favorite flavors are: Cotton Candy and Cake Batter

• She has a vast knowledge on various weapons and self-defense skills

• Sad fact: Her childish behavior is not because she always was treated like a child or had what she wanted. It's actually a way to cope being exposed to brutal assassinations and torture methods as a kid, they want to forget that side of the world exists, and hate when they have to act serious.

• Gruesome fact: Their relationship didn't last due to 2 factors: 1) not showing interest after being intimate, and 2) killing them by the sudden madness of getting her heart broken. She has a strong force only when provoked

————————————————————————

(The color was supposed to be yellow, not green)

So, the thing with Darcie is that the game is also a demo, and the lore is not complete, a little bit is dropped, but I'm not complaining, but it does mess up a little bit.

For Darcie, I was creating her and I completed it, later I find out that Stu is a childhood friend for MC and I was like "Oh no, I'm fucked". So instead of changing it, I just left it like I originally did, why? It's just an oc, I'll see how I managed to include Stu in her story later, but I don't know in which part I should include when she met Stu. Also, I included mafia because idk, I just felt like, I don't know how that works, so I just made up random stuff, which I think I'm pretty proud, but again, I don't know how it works (or if still even exists). And don't come at me with the dead ex again. Like I said before, I think it's fun.

But anyway, Darcie, she's a cutie pie, I love her, I'll figure out when in her story include Stu or if you want to help me, I'll appreciate it too. 🌷🌷

#oc #mdhm #oc lore #lore drop

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