#I’m about halfway to the points I need for a gift card now because I watched some ads too but uh

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Ok. I will read some Rob Roy, then go for a walk.

Also new favorite activity unlocked: Pacing laps around the clutter in a pitch-black basement while using one of those metal slinky toys that crawl/roll up and down your arms for an hour at a time.

[aspiringroleplays]

@atimelesslullaby

Sora had only meant to ask Kairi for help in thinking up a gift. He knew nothing of medieval times! And he couldn’t think of anything nice to get Zelda! (That wasn’t from his futuristic universe.) So naturally he went to the princess otaku to help him think of something.

Of course when she found out it would be a ball she demanded he ask Zelda if she could attend. If he didn’t at least try to get her an invitation, she would never forgive him.

After days of grilling him, and brainstorming and ordering, they finally settled on a pair of presents they thought would be suitable. (Kairi as well, since she figured it would simply be rude to show up without a present.)

As far as what they would wear to the ball… well…

“I hate you,” Sora whispered under his breath as they made their way to the gates.

“But Sora!” She whispered back, her mischievous smile belying her sweet tone. “You look so dashing!”

“That’s not the point!” He hissed back, though the sudden flush to his face proved that her compliment had worked. “The Beast? Really?”

She daintily shook her fan in front of her face. “You always said his outfit was your favorite.”

“Only because it’s blue!”

That’s right- Kairi Maris, princess otaku extraordinaire, had decided they needed to go in cosplay. Sora in the formal blue dress suit of the Beast, and Kairi in the blue gown of Aurora, with gold accessories to match. If they were just looking at “appearance” the outfits were perfectly suitable. It was just… well… it was hard not to see Kairi’s joke.

“No one will know,” she assured him as they finally approached the gate. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Sora huffed as he turned away from her irately, ignoring her giggles.

The ball, as to be expected, was a grand affair. Many a royals, and nobility, and Lords and Ladies attended in their finest wear, the castle alight in their festivities. Though the pair had been on time, there was already music playing, and folks gossiping, and people milling about the ballroom. After Sora had given their names, they were directed to the east side of the room where a long banquet table was already half filled with what were obviously gifts. Most were packages wrapped in silk, or pretty printed cloth, or even colored, albeit plain paper. Sora and Kairi’s gifts were in plain, but rich-stained small wooden chests. They were identical, but in each had a simple card stock with the words “From Kairi” or “From Sora” respectively. Kairi’s present was a glass bottle of lavender oil. A luxurious addition to a relaxing hot bath after a hard day (which of course would be appropriate for a girl to give). In Sora’s box were three medium round tin containers of herbal and floral teas, something the pair thought would be good additions to the princess’s favorite desserts.

As they made their way across the ballroom to take in all the sights, Kairi froze in her tracks, and gasped, grabbed a hold of Sora’s arm.

“Is that her?” She asked under her breath, violet eyes wide.

He followed her line of sight to the lovely woman seated at the throne, and nodded, lips quirking into a smile despite himself. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“You weren’t kidding!” She whispered in awe. “She really is just like a fairy tale!”

“Right!?” He whispered excitedly, glad to finally have someone to share this with. “She’s really amazing!”

“So elegant and graceful!” Kairi swooned, hand not holding her fan and purse cupping her flushed cheek. “She’s everything a princess should be!”

“And she’s so nice!” Sora cried to himself, his fondness almost painful. “And smart, and fun, and-”

“Sora,” Kairi cut him off, eyes now boring into his. “Introduce me.”

He blinked. “Well, I was gonna anyway-”

“Introduce me. Now.”

“Erm, I don’t think I can,” He winced, pointing to the line of male guests before her. They were halfway across the room, but Sora’s sensitive hearing could pick up their voices. “Those are princes. I’m pretty sure she has to listen to them first.”

“Darn it!” She huffed, then reached into her purse to bring out her compact mirror to look over her face, and her well-done bun. “Is my make up smudged? Is my hair okay? Can I make someone fall in love with me at a glance?”

“Yes, yes, Kairi, you look-” Then he stopped, blinking as her last statement caught up with him. He squinted at her. “Kairi, don’t even think about it.”

“Why not?” She asked innocently. “It’s not like you like her, right?” She asked rhetorically, using his past statements against him. “So you shouldn’t care.”

“I don’t, I-” He stammered. “S-she needs to marry a prince! It’s not she could marry you anyway, even if she did like girls!”

“Listen, Sora,” she clipped her compact closed. “If I’m going to suffer the rest of my life, I may as well do it in the lap of luxury.” She turned to him, face set in determination. “I would be fine being her secret lover.”

Sora stared, a little concerned. He didn’t know what was worse- the fact that she actually said that, or the fact that she said it with such a straight face.

“Relax,” she clipped her compact closed. “I’ve been flying under the radar for years. I’ll be able to tell if she’s checking me out or not, without saying a word.”

Sora facepalmed, making a mental note to make sure she didn’t do anything to embarrass him.

“There’s no helping it for now anyway,” she conceded as she clipped her purse shut. “We may as well pass the time until she’s free.” She turned to the middle of the floor, where several couples were already dancing. “I wonder if they’re doing any dances we might know.”

Sora followed her line of sight. Kairi’s musicality was top notch, though his was decent as well. This was a slightly faster, more upbeat song- something lively and fun to start out the party. Watching the nobility dance, they could both see the pattern of movement looked different from any dancing they had seen before, though the music time sounded the same.

“They’re probably waiting for a waltz until later,” Kairi decided. And grasped her chin in thought. “Doing something “wrong” would just draw attention to ourselves and we can’t have that.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Sora pointed to the couples and bounced his finger in time with the beat. “Step, slide, step, slide, turn, slide, step, step.”

“Oh, you’re right!” She grinned. “So you were paying attention to your lessons!”

“I had to. I had a lousy teacher.”

She smacked his arm with her fan and he snickered.

Sora and Kairi had been dancing together since they were little. Ever since they learned their shared love for Disney, they took turns playing with each other. And for Sora, that meant playing the “prince” to her “princess”. So he stepped back, raising his arm up to sweep it across his waist, and bowing low.

“My lady. May I have this dance?”

She giggled, raising a dainty gloved hand to him. “Why, I would be simply delighted.”

He took her hand, putting an obligatory kiss on her fingers, before gently pulling her into the frame of his arms. They both stepped out, breaking into happy, but very inelegant giggles.

They did mess up a few times, trying to get the hang of the steps and routine. They avoided the very center, not wanting to risk running into someone and drawing too much attention to themselves. But they couldn’t stop grinning and snickering, looking about the room with awe and wonder. In their wildest dreams, they never dreamed they’d have the chance to gaze upon such splendor. They whispered to each other, admiring a dress a lady wore, giggling at silly make up, gasping as they caught sight of the glorious food table- all in all having a blast as their childhood selves played pretend once more.

But, of course, with the rush of memories from childhood came a stark reminder of the one missing element.

It started with Sora first, the harsh memories much harder for him than her. But Kairi seemed to pick up on it, her smile falling as much as his, and her eyes also darkening with her mood.

“It almost feels wrong doing this without him, doesn’t it?” She asked softly.

“...He’d love this,” Sora agreed, smiling wryly. “Probably imagining how he could make trouble.”

At the end of the song, they slowed to a stop, all the cheer and good feelings seeming to leave with a whoosh. The absence of their friend was a painful one, but one that they didn’t really think about often anymore. Unless of course, they spoke of their childhood home, or the fun they used to have as kids. For some reason all this just seemed to bring all the negative feelings back with a vengeance.

But Sora shook his head, used to bringing himself out of negativity, and tugged on her hand. “Look, they’re almost done. I think we can say hi to her now.”

Kairi looked up at him, then at the throne, nodding in agreement with him as they strolled up. The mood was much more somber now, but both were quick to try to cover their heartache with a smile, knowing that this was a time for celebration, not mourning.

There were two individuals left, so Sora and Kairi stayed back, waiting for them to finish.

“After this, we definitely have to check out the food,” Kairi whispered behind her hand, and Sora nodded quickly agreeing with her one hundred percent.

So focused on trying to shake away the negative feelings, Kairi almost forgot just who she was about to meet. So when the final prince finally cleared, and Sora brought her to approach the princess, Kairi was caught off guard once more.

‘She’s so beautiful...’

“Princess Zelda,” Sora greeted, and bowed at the waist, in his attempt to be proper (mostly because Kairi had drilled it into him). “Thank you for allowing us to attend. May I introduce my childhood friend: Kairi Maris. Daughter of the Mayor of Kin Town.”

Kairi was frozen in place, her heart beating wildly. Her pinkened lips were parted in awe, eyes wide in wonder. Sora cocked a brow, and whispered her name. When she didn’t respond, he tapped her side with his hand. That made her jump and remember her place, and she quickly cleared her throat. She released his hand to delicately grasp her skirt, and twirl it out to the side, sliding her feet and lowering herself into a graceful curtsy.

“I am honored to meet you, your highness. May you have a long, and prosperous reign.”

Kairi had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

[priestofberath]

Hey, you. You’re finally awake. You were caught trying to cross the border, same as us, and that thief over there. Fuck I forgot the rest. Uh. Damn you Stormcloaks, if it hadn’t been for you, I would have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell. We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief. Shut up back there. Wait, you, you’re Ulfric Stormcloak, leader of the rebellion. If they’ve captured you...gods, where are they taking us? Shor, Mara, Dibella, Akatosh, Kynareth-- Divines, help me. Hey, where are you from, horse thief? Why do you care? A nord’s last thoughts should be of home. Rorikstead. I’m...I’m from Rorikstead. Okay I really forgot how it goes after this, fucking, like. Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod still makes that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Imperial walls and towers. It’s funny, when I was a boy, they used to make me feel so safe. End of the line. You’re not going to kill me!! Halt! Archers! Anyone else feel like running? Who...are you. Are you with one of the trade caravans, khajiit? Your kind always seems to get into trouble. What do we do? She’s not in the book. Forget the book, she’s going to the block. Alright. I’m sorry, I’ll make sure your remains are returned to Elsweyr. Uhhhhhh. Some here in Helgen call you a hero, but a hero doesn’t use a power like the voice to murder the High King and usurp his throne. You started this war, and now we’re going to end it.  Fuckin. As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you-- Let’s get this over with, I haven’t got all morning. My ancestors are smiling on me, imperials, can you say the same? As fearless in death as he was in life. Next, the cat! What was that? A dragon! Toor...Shul! Gods...everyone, get back! Still alive, prisoner? Follow me if you want to keep that way. Okay yeah I’ve got nothing I forgot how it goes past this point. Fucking Hadvar. It’s like, I always go with the imperials because I always play as either a Khajiit or an Argonian and it just doesn’t seem like it’d make sense to join the Stormcloaks as anything other than a nord, but they tried to cut my head off that one time, you know? I didn’t do anything. It’s not like Skyrim’s border is like, closed. People cross it. That happens. The protagonist just happened to be present during a Stormcloak vs Imperial thing and got caught up in it. Hadvar even said, hey, you’re not supposed to be here. And yet, they try to kill you anyway. For what? You can mention that to Jarl Balgruuf and he’ll just make a comment about not caring about your apparent criminal past. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying I am innocent, have been personally victimized by the Imperial Legion, and want a written apology and maybe a gift card. You want me to help you with the dragons? Give me a 100 septim gift card to the Bannered Mare. General Tullius, fucking get on it, okay? I’ve never done anything wrong. Sure, I have stolen some things, but that’s their fault for leaving cheese wheels out unattended. You’re gonna arrest me over some cheese wheels, nord boy? I’m the dragonborn, and if I am going to have any luck trying to fuck Sheogorath, I need cheese wheels. Get off me.

[thursday-writes-fanfics]

Choose, part 4. (Reader x Jack Sparrow or Will Turner. )

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean, Will Turner, Jack Sparrow.

Warnings: None lmao

Words: 2.3 K

First - Former - Next

It's been a while since my last update, so here you go!

One year had passed since the faithed night in Tortuga, where Y/N left everything she once knew behind, to seek the truth she needed to find within. One eventful year where she had gone alone through more than most would in their lifetime. Travelling along with different crews, battling across the seas and polishing her hastily growing reputation as one of the most fearsome pirates the world has ever seen. None dared voice their annoyance with her being a woman, for she had allies all across the seven seas. She had seen so much of the world, her confidence grown and her heart set aflame with adventure. Y/N was an even finer pirate and woman than she had been ever before.

Other pirates either wished to be her or be with her, the secrets of many slipped into her ears. It amused the young woman, and the many who worked in the brothels along the coasts. When Y/N needed information, it was not other pirates or navy officials she sought out. No, it was the brothels’ gossip she tuned her ears to. For the women there knew far more of the world than any other. All news came to their homes and it was all available for the famous pirate.

She had earned an even better reputation with them as well, as she sought out the women there the first thing she did each time she came ashore. She treated them kindly, paid for their food and brought along gifts, treating them like friends. Her actions earned her a handsome reputation with the women, and in each town she could always find a loyal embrace to keep her safe. After all, the women of the brothels ruled the cities from the shadows. To anger one of them was to anger an underground nation.

Y/N’s locks had grown long since the night one year ago, her clothing expensive and proud on her frame. A treat she gave herself due to her wide success in both informal and formal businesses. She was a true pirate, yet could strike a bargain with the British navy without a problem. After all, they too were afraid of her.

The feather on her black hat curled down to her shoulder, its size another show of her wealth and power. The weaponry which clad her shape were the most efficient, on all the ships of the sea, not even the British army able to supply her better. Only the finest for herself, the woman had decided. Dual pistols she had strapped to each side of her chest, and upon both hips she held blades, one magnificent sabre and one deadly cutlass, all adorned with the most elaborate details. These were all weapons to show, the rest she had hidden in pockets and secret departments on her curves. Small explosives and hidden blades were better kept in subtle crevices than to be seen by the naked eye when one made deals. All about the fearsome pirate screamed confidence and to show respect, and that respect she had earned many times over.

“We’ll be docked in an hour, lass,” came the captain’s voice, the merry band she was travelling with now not as roughhousing as most of her fellow pirates. Mercenaries of the law they were during the day after all, and they weren’t too keen on going out during the night when there was ale to be drunk with stories to be told in old taverns. It was a life-altering change from how they had once been, when the captain and his crew had been young and adventurous. A smirk clad Y/N’s lips when she faced the man, her fingers fiddling with the sabre’s handle. “Aye, thought it was about time to dock, Captain Henry. And still I’m not sure if I will take my leave of you when we get there, or if I will meet the navy together with you in the morrow,” her deceptive nature made the captain laugh, for he knew just how little control anyone had over the young pirate. He joined her side with a few strides to the railing, gazing at the sea from the quarterdeck.

“Aye, ye do as ye wish, lassie,” mused the older man, finding his gaze once more sought out her face. “Yer not notorious for knowing every pirate for no reason. Can’t keep ye in place forever” he snickered, his mind on the many rumours he had heard over the past year of the pirate. He had seen it himself a few times too, how the famous Y/N had stepped off one ship only to board another in the same port. Her name was known by all, whether they liked her or not. Her presence on a ship could deter a dispute between two crews, for no one wanted her gone. And those who did were quick to find themselves cornered and silenced for good after voicing such atrocious thoughts aloud.

“Oh shut your gob, “ sneered the woman in reply, earning more laughter from the captain as his head fell back to let the thunderous noise wash over the ship. A simple “Never,” Henry retaliated, winning their argument as he strode to attend his crew and ensure the docking process would flow smoothly. Y/N watched the sea for a moment longer, trained on the horizon in an attempt to find a peculiar ship. One which carried black sails. Fingers carded through her hair as she thought about her old companions, but discarded the thoughts just as quickly. A turn of her heels and the woman came to face the incoming port, nothing she wished to see there either. A defeated smile curled her lips when she ventured to help her current crew, missing the hint of black that rounded a nearby island with a course for their port.

“ Alright, lads!” with easy leaps and muscles bunched for one last jump, Y/N climbed halfway up the crow's nest and gazed down at the many faces who all gave her their full attention.

“ I’m saying this just once because Henry doesn’t seem to be able to get it through your thick skulls. If we don’t get this cargo to the bay within the first few hours of us getting to port, the taverns will be full and the brothels closed,” the crew stared at the woman, most having just woken up from their midday nap. Too many faces were disinterested, the woman sneering maliciously as she knew exactly what would get them on their feet.

“Which means, no ale and no lovers!” Y/N roared, drawing enjoyment from the panic growing in the men’s eyes. They had been at sea for a month now, and the lot needed more than the icy waters could ever offer.

“So unless you wish to mope around the ship for the entire night, alone, get to it!” the crew leapt to their feet, their rushing steps and loud cries satisfying to Y/N’s ears. The pirate’s piercing eyes found the captain who let his chest heave with a sigh, not one to question the woman’s authority. She had gotten the crew off their asses with a single threat, when he had shouted at them all day to get ready. The ship groaned when they threw down the anchor, straining against it as it still wished to traverse further. A gangplank found its hold against the port, the cargo soon to cross over it. Both the captain and Alexandra oversaw the process, to ensure their goods would be gone by the hour.

“Ye know,” Captain Henry spoke after a long while, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Ye should consider becoming a captain one day,” Y/N snapped her head to face the man, eyes threatening to fall out. “Me? A captain?” she ridiculed, shocked by his words. The captain let a snicker pass his lips at her surprise, for being able to shock the immovable Y/N was quite amusing. Work roughened hand, tainted by the deep sea came to rest on his back, clasped together.

“Just sayin’. Ye’ve got the guts and respect for it,” with a smirk the captain passed his current crewmate, stepping onto the railing. “I will leave the rest to ye, for I am in need of a drink,” a wink was sent the woman’s way before Captain Henry made his way down the docks, disappearing without a trace. His back was followed by Y/N’s incredulous gaze.

“You fucking bastard,” Y/N shouted after him, her spiteful words only a show of affection to them both. With a shake of her head and a smirk on her lips growing when she heard the captain’s faraway laughter, the pirate got back to work. With an easy step, she leapt atop the railing, gazing at the crew working by her side.

“We’re making good time, lads! If you keep this up you’re probably going to be one of the first crews of the night to get to the pubs!” Y/N encouraged them. The merry men laughed and cheered whilst their work pace increased tenfold at the praise and promises of entertainment. Even the stand-in captain dared to laugh herself, unaware of how many eyes watched her joy from far out at sea.

It started with Ragetti looking through the captain’s spyglass, minding his own business as they had yet to start preparing to get docked. When turning his eye to the port city, he could tear his wandering gaze when it laid eyes on an extremely familiar figure. Too far away to make out entirely, yet the pirate was certain of who he saw. None he had ever encountered before looked and stood like their old acquaintance.

“Oh, would you look at that!” the pirate laughed, Pintel looking over at him with a raised brow. The spyglass fell from his eye, Ragetti free hand pointing to one of the largest ships docked in the nearing port.

“Y/N is aboard Henry the Savage’s boat!” the words he spoke carried over the deck, the silence that followed deafening, the group trying to comprehend what had just been said. A moment later and the crew rushed like a stampede for the two pirates who shrieked in fright at the threatening approach. The spyglass was taken from Ragetti’s hand and passed to them all to get a look for themselves.

“I can’t see ‘er!”

“Is it really Y/N the Courageous you saw?”

“Courageous? No! Her title is the Unbeatable!

“No, she’s Y/N the Ace of the Sea! The greatest pirate yet!”

The commotion on deck drew Will and Jack from the captain’s cabin, the crew’s loud and incoherent discussions about titles and names soon finding their ears. The former blacksmith was with the crew temporarily, as he had a job to be done with them before they ventured to Port Royal. Both captain and his companion froze in their steps when a well-known name echoed across the crew over and over. A shocked gaze was shared, but the two strode forth together for they could not believe in illusions just because a name was mentioned a few times.

“Right. What’s all this then?” came from the captain’s chest, the crew jumping at the sound of his voice. Jack Sparrow regarded them all with his hands propped on his hips, the loyal blacksmith at his side. Gibbs was the first to speak and took matters into hand, roughly pulling the spyglass from the nearest pirate’s. “It’s Y/N, Jack,” his words piqued further interest in the two newcomers, the two striding through the parting crew to the first mate.

“Y/N?” Will asked, unable to hide the hope that bubbled up in his voice at the mention of her name. The blue eyes grew clearer, not the wistful one’s the crew had come to be familiar with. Jack snatched the spyglass from Gibbs’ offered hand and turned to face the port. With his gaze, he followed the finger pointing at the supposedly familiar pirate. Jack froze upon seeing who they meant, eye narrowing when he stared her down. “No, it can’t be her,” the captain muttered, more to himself than anybody else.

“Far too curvy and longer hair. She didn’t look so cheerful to everyone all the time,” the jealousy and denial dripped from the captain’s tongue, the disbelief he held in his heart fading with each second.

“Can’t be her. No way, you’re all dreaming,” Jack continued before yelping as Will tore the spyglass from his hands, the force of it almost making the captain fall overboard. The blacksmith’s own gaze sought the port for the one they spoke of, his heart beating so quickly it drowned out all sound.

He too came to stand still once he found her form. She stood proud and tall upon Henry the Savage’s railing, her hand thrown out as she barked orders to the crewmates. And there on her lips was a grin, a grin that only the closest of her friends had seen before. Now as she shared it with the rest of the world, the former blacksmith’s blood boiled with jealousy.

“It’s her. There’s no way it’s not her,” Will snarled in reply to Jack’s incessant mumbling, handing the spyglass to Cotton. Will turned to the Black Pearl’s crew, and just like the woman on the other ship, began to bark orders. Where hers had been kind and joyous, he’s were angry and determined orders, none on the ship daring to stand in his way. The desperation in his anger was evident, and the fact that their own Captain Jack did nothing but mumble was a telltale sign that this was a serious matter. Otherwise, Will would have had a sword at his neck for even attempting to command the crew. Their efforts to hurry were doubled, when Jack regained his mind only to shout orders alongside his friend.

Oh, how oblivious the woman they had sought for was, for she heard none of the shouting on the nearing ship. For her well-beloved face was already being shown in one of her favourite taverns.

[itsdanii]

Hi!! I love how you did the Asahi and his wife and the pregnancy imagine! Its soooo cutee!!

I was wondering if you could do reader telling Iwaizumi she's pregnant after he and the team win the Olympics? Just fluffy fluffines ahahah

Welcome Home

Hey, bub. Thank you so much for requesting! Im so glad that you're enjoying my works, its such an honor♥️ As requested, here's a fluffy iwaizumi finding out his wife is pregnant. Enjoy and stay hydrated!

genre: fluff

warnings: nothing but iwaizumi being super soft with his wife

ft. iwaizumi hajime

coming home has never been better

You found out you're pregnant a few weeks ago but unlike telling your husband like a normal wife would, you kept it hidden because you wanted to think of doing something special when you finally tell him.

But it seemed as if coming up with something creative wasn't an easy task because here you are now, 3 weeks into your pregnancy yet still have no idea on what to do.

You were slowly growing frustrated. At one point, you even thought of just dropping the bomb on Iwaizumi but when you realized how close the Olympic match was already, you decided to hold yourself back knowing that there's a huge possibility he won't be able to focus.

As you scrolled through the internet, your lips curled up as a certain idea caught your attention. You took your phone to check your calendar and grinned as you saw that you have just enough days to prepare for everything.

Two days later, you've got everything you needed and placed them inside a box, excitement bubbling up inside you as you imagined the look on Iwaizumi's face when he sees your little surprise. You even added a red ribbon to make it more pleasing in the eyes before placing it on the bedside table.

Tomorrow, your husband will be coming home from their victorious match during the olympics.

As if sensing your longing, your phone vibrated at an upcoming call, your face instantly lightening up at seeing the familiar name of your husband flashing through the screen.

"Hello, hubbie," you greeted with a smile.

"Hey, angel. Sorry, were you about to sleep?"

You almost laughed at how fast a frown formed on his face when he said that. It was obvious in his voice that he was exhausted yet throughout the whole duration of his busy schedule, not once did you hear him utter a simple complain.

"Yes, but I miss you so it's alright, Haji."

From there, the two of you started talking about your day with Hajime speaking more than you as he explained detail by detail the things that happened in the court and how the team won.

Noticing the way your eyes were fluttering, your husband paused from talking and waited for a couple of seconds to confirm his suspicions. Upon seeing your eyes completely closing and your hand almost dropping the phone, he smiled softly at your cuteness.

"Why don't you go to sleep already? You know I can see your eyes dropping, right?" Hajime said from the other side.

You instantly opened your eyes at that. "But we want to hear your voice more," you answered sleepily, unaware of the tiny slip up that had managed to escape your lips.

Luckily for you, Iwaizumi took your slip up as an indication of how sleepy you are already.

"Mhm, but you can barely speak without slurring your words. I'll be home tomorrow already and then we can talk as much as you want to. Does that sound good?"

You pouted slightly before nodding, knowing full well that he was right. Plus, staying up too late isn't good for a pregnant woman.

"Goodnight, angel. I love you."

"Night, Haji. Love you too." You smiled at the screen sleepily before finally ending the call.

Just like what Iwaizumi said, you headed straight to sleep with a hand on your lower belly, the idea of soon being in the arms of your husband helping you relax as you let yourself fall asleep.

When morning came, you woke up early, too excited for the arrival of Iwaizumi and how he's going to react with the news.

It was almost 11 in the morning when the front door finally opened, Iwaizumi's exhausted look greeting you as soon as he entered.

He placed his bags down before meeting you halfway in the living room, his arms instantly wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. Iwaizumi then buried his head to the crook of your neck, breathing you in for a few moments before finally kissing your lips.

You pulled away from the passionate kiss breathlessly, half lidded eyes staring up at your husband as you took in his features.

"I'm home," he whispered with his forehead resting against yours and his lips still ghosting over your own.

"Welcome home, Haji." You gave him one last peck before pulling away, giggling as Iwaizumi let out a small whine of complain.

"I bought you a welcome home gift," you said as you signaled him to sit on the couch. "Wait here."

As you went to get the box, Iwaizumi couldn't help but smile. He basically just arrived and here you are, already spoiling him and showering him with your affection.

You settled yourself on his lap, body facing sideways with the box resting on top of your legs. Handing him the gift, you smiled excitedly as he took it from you. "Hope you like it, hubbie."

You watched him slowly unwrap the ribbon, his eyes glancing at you for a brief second before opening the box.

Iwaizumi's eyesbrow shot up as he stared at the small fabric inside. It resembled his former highschool jersey but this one was a onesie version, the bold lettering of his surname present on the back with the same number.

You stared at him as he took the onesie in fascination and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling as you basically watched the wheels spinning inside his head.

"Babe?" Iwaizumi said as he turned his attention on you, a hopeful look present on his face.

You simply hummed at him and titled on your head a little to the side.

"I-" Iwaizumi paused for a moment and looked down at the box once again, finally taking notice of the small card inside. He took the piece of paper and his eyes immediately watered at what was written on it.

Welcome home, daddy.

"Are you...are you pregnant?" he asked expectantly, eyes skimming over your features before it dropped down to your covered belly.

The moment you muttered a simple "Yes," Iwaizumi instantly stood up, his hands holding your legs to keep you from falling.

The action caused you to let out a small squeal before you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Oh, Haji. Don't cry," you cooed as you saw tears streaming down your husband's face. You wiped his tears with your hand before placing a kiss on his lips.

"I'm gonna be a dad," he whispered before placing you down on your feet, one arm settling on the small of your back, refusing to let go.

"Yes, you are," you said with a loving tone before resting your head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat making you close your eyes as you relish the feeling of finally being in his arms.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ♥️

a/n: i want iwaizumi, 27, athletic trainer, to embrace me with his big, strong arms 😌 dont we all?

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

[stanknotstark]

Serinakakers As Proof

Serinakakers are actually called Norwegian butter cookies in english and I don’t think i’ve ever had one but they look good to me lol i didn’t feel like making a whole new otherworldly dessert sorry I’m lazy sometimes 😂

Summary: You’re dating Loki but keeping it a secret as per Loki’s request. The team starts to question if you’re lying about your ‘lover’ and Loki has to save you because Thor has really bad timing.

It all started two weeks into dating Loki. Loki was a little unsure what the team’s reaction to you two dating would be so he told you to keep it a secret for now. You respected his wishes but that didn’t stop you from flaunting about how you had the best ‘lover’ (Loki refused to be called boyfriend) in the world. 

Two weeks in Valentines came up and Loki had a vase of beautiful flowers sent to you with a little card that said, “For the fairest of them all - your love” In reference to Snow White, which you had both watched very recently. 

You had taken them around the whole tower, telling people it had come from your lover when they asked. 

“At least give us his name, I promise to not, like, totally have a background check on him!” Tony says with a pout. 

You laugh and shake your head. “No can do Tin Man. He doesn’t want you all to know who he is just yet.”

“See, that makes me a little skittish, if he doesn’t want us to know he has something to hide.” 

“I agree with him and think he should remain nameless.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Tony points out.

You shrug at Tony and do the motions for zipping your lips closed and throwing out the key. 

Loki ends up picking a random day, a month later, to send you a big basket of chocolate, your favorite hard candies, and really small plushies of all the Avengers (It’s totally not his way of giving you sweets because you’re on your period). Your favorite plushy isn’t one of the Avengers, it’s a small plushy of Loki. Because you’re given the basket in front of everyone you make sure not to freak out over the Loki plushy but you keep stealing glances at the god who sits apart from everyone else, reading. 

“He even got you Loki?” Steve asks bewildered. 

“Like it or not, Loki is part of the group. Seems he has built a group of fans now.” You say, stealing a glance at Loki who smirks at his book. You know he’s pleased you’ve defended his honor. 

“You do realize I’m right here, do you not?” Loki says, still not looking up from his book. 

Steve at least has the decency to look ashamed and his cheeks flare up. 

“There’s not a card with a name!” Tony says making everyone look at the basket again.

“Of course not, you dumbass.” You say, slapping the back of Tony’s head, Tony proceeds to throw his hands and slap away at your receding hand. Thor and Bruce chuckle with you at his childish antics. 

“Can you at least give us a letter in his name?” Clint asks from your side. 

You sigh and look to the ceiling in thought. 

“K.”

“Kevin!” Clint immediately yells. “Wait, we don’t know a Kevin.” 

“Who said you know who it is?” You ask as you gather your basket to put in your room. 

Clint completely disregards what you said and yells, “Kate!”

Natasha hits Clint’s arm, “She’s straight, stupid.”

Tony then pipes in as you walk away rolling your eyes, “Kyle! Kaden! Kayden but with a y!” 

“His name doesn’t start with a k guys!” You yell as the elevator closes, exasperated. 

Next, a week and a half has passed when they start questioning your relationship. Thor figures it out but only because he grew up with the thing you’re gifted. 

You had been the last one to enter the kitchen for dinner and right as you entered Thor came up to you with puppy dog eyes and was holding a tin of sweets. You take a long look at the delicacies, they’re some type of cookies, in a swirl pattern, and decorated with powdered sugar. Thor answers your questions right after you think that.

“They’re butter cookies, can I please have one, your boyfriend sent them.” Thor says making sure to enunciate the word boyfriend. Your eyes snap to Thor’s and the god smiles down at you. On one hand it looks innocent but you see past his facade.

He knows. 

You clear your throat and grab the tin from him, making sure to pull one of the cookies out and give it to him. 

“Since you’re nice, sure, big guy.” You say giving Thor a look that said ‘Say nothing’. Thor bounces from foot to foot, shoving his cookie in the face of the other Avengers.

“She likes me!” Thor roars then demolishes the cookie in a single bite. 

You laugh, glance at Loki from under your lashes as you look at the cookies and pick one out to try.

When the cookie touches your tongue you can’t help closing your eyes and moaning. You chew and the cookie just melts in your mouth. You moan as your take another bite and you think you could practically orgasm this cookie is so damn good but remember the entire team is there. 

When you finish the cookie you open you eyes and look at everyone. Tony is looking at you like he wants to eat you, Natasha is eating her food like she doesn’t fucking care, Steve is blushing so hard you think his head might explode. Clint is shocked, and Bruce is looking at you with a raised brow. The last person you look at is Loki who sits there staring at you with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye that says he’s going to tear those noises from your lips again, this time without the cookies.

You cough and look at Thor who is smiling like he is satisfied. You understand why he wanted one so bad now. 

“I’m sorry but what the fuck just happened.” Tony says shaking his head. 

You laugh. “I had an orgasm while eating a cookie, get with the program.”

“Honestly, if his cookies are that good you need to marry the man, just saying.” Tony waves his had at you then goes on to start eating his dinner.

You go to eat another cookie but Loki finally says something. 

“No dessert before dinner, put the cookies down.” 

“Or what?” You challenge the god.

Loki raises a brow at you and levels you with a glare.

“Put them down.”

You suck on your gums and squint at the god as you put the cookies on the table.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

“Ok, first of all, you like everyone so I don’t see the point in saying that. Second, how have you told Loki you like him before me? We all know I’m the favorite around here.” Tony scoffs while aggressively stabbing a broccoli floret. 

You take your seat next to Loki and that’s when it’s asked.

“Is your boyfriend even real? Or are you gifting yourself all these things so you’ll make one of us jealous?” Clint asks in a normal voice, he really doesn’t mean it to be mean.

You stop smiling at Tony and frown at Clint.

“He’s real.” You say a little hurt. 

“I mean it just seems a little fishy.”

You pout at Clint.

“I could look into her purchases and see if she bought it herself.” Tony rouses from the other side of the table. He’t totally joking but Steve doesn’t take it that way.

“Tony! That’s private, you can’t just do that!” Steve tries protecting you. 

You start to get a little angry.

“He’s real. If you don’t think he’s real then that’s on you. I know he is and that’s all that matters.” You reason, more for yourself than anything else. 

Under the table you feel Loki’s hand squeeze at your thigh. 

“Just give us something to let us know he’s real.” Tony pushes. 

You slam your hands on the table and stand up so fast the chair you were in topples over. 

“Stop!” Loki yells, in a quick move he stands and puts an arm in front of you, not to protect Tony but to stop you before you did something you regret.

The room is silent save for your rough breathing. 

“It’s me.” Loki harshly says, glaring at Tony and Clint.

“You don’t have to cover for her, it’s embarrassing but-”

“Shut up!” You scream at Clint.

“I’m not trying to cover for her. I’ve been dating her for the past month and a half. I did not want her to tell you because I wasn’t sure how all of you would react.” Loki gets out then turns and brings you to him so he may kiss you. 

Loki makes it a show for the team, relaxes as you lean into him, your hands wrapping around his neck and tugging at the nape of his neck. He pulls away before you can lose yourself in his kiss and looks at the team with a raised eyebrow as if asking ‘Is that enough for you?’.

Finally Thor peeps in between a big bite of his food. “Ay, Loki is telling the truth, those are Serinakakers, an Asgardian delicacy my mother used to make us.” 

Loki rolls his eyes at his brother’s really bad timing and then looks back down at you, you’re still wrapped around him, now with a tiny smile on your lips as you look at him.

“Ok, darling?” Loki asks anyways.

“I’ll be happy if you let me take those cookies and eat those for dinner in my bedroom.” 

Loki brings a hand up and trails a finger from the back of your jaw to your chin, going up to touch your bottom lip. “Only if you promise to make those sweet sounds every bite you take.” Loki whispers.

“Ok this is seriously gross, I’m literally gonna throw up.” Tony says with a fake gag.

You laugh and pull from Loki who glares at Tony. You point at Tony, then at Clint. “Don’t think you two are off the hook, I’m still royally pissed, you’re just lucky when I’m around Loki I can’t stay mad.”

You make your way around the table, Loki following, dinner forgotten, and pick up your cookies. Then, you head towards your room. 

Halfway to the elevator Loki grabs your hand and doesn’t let go until you’re both laying on your bed enjoying your cookies. Talking about everything and nothing. 

[silhouetteofacedar]

Pearl, Ch. 4: Sea Legs on 7th

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

It’s only a ten minute walk from the bureau to the courthouse, but Mulder is starting to regret not insisting they drive.

Scully’s having a rough day, if her sallow face and pursed lips are any indication. She’s uncomfortably quiet.

“You alright?” Mulder asks, hovering over her as they walk.

“M’fine,” she answers, because that’s all she ever says. “Just queasy today.”

“Let me know if you need to sit down for a minute,” he says, and she bristles.

“We have an appointment to make, Mulder,” she reminds him. “We’re almost there anyway.”

Mulder’s stomach is unsteady too; not from chemotherapy, but from nerves. They’re applying for their marriage license today.

It’s happening, it’s all happening, and all he can do is shorten his steps to match Scully’s pace as they walk. She senses this and starts walking faster in response. Scully has an incredible talent for pushing Mulder away in the smallest ways possible, telegraphing with her body that she doesn’t need his help or his pity or his accommodation.

And yet they’re heading to the DC Marriage Bureau. Funny, that.

Scully’s face is clammy by the time they enter the Moultrie Courthouse.

“Hey,” Mulder says softly, drawing her aside, “Scully, you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks,” she says stiffly, digging around in her purse and pressing a tissue to her lips.

“I mean… I-I think you should go home. We can do this another time.”

She shakes her head carefully, taking a deep breath. “We’d have to walk back to the office either way, Mulder. I’ll be fine. Do you have any gum or a mint, by the way? Something I can suck on. It… it helps with the nausea sometimes.”

Mulder rummages through his jacket pocket. “Just sunflower seeds,” he admits, “And… a nickel.”

Scully holds out a hand, and he places a few seeds into her palm.

“Thank you,” she says tightly, placing the seeds in her mouth.

In sickness and in health, Mulder thinks, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Her body feels rigid beneath his hand.

They file their license request without incident or fanfare, and Scully’s stride is clipped as they head back to the office.

Halfway up 7th Street, she stops walking abruptly and steadies herself with a hand against the rough brick of a building.

“Don’t ask me if I’m fine,” she whispers before he can say anything. “Just give me a moment.”

She takes a few slow, deep breaths. “Okay,” she says huskily.

“Shall we walk? If you need to lean on me, you can,” Mulder says gently.

“Despite how I feel right now, the world isn’t actually tilting sideways,” she replies. “I can walk on my own.”

He feels like a kicked puppy trailing after her, but dammit, she’s sick and being stubborn and his heart is turning to pulp beneath her low-heeled pumps and their names are next to each other on a piece of paper a quarter mile behind.

And Dana Scully, doctor and scientist and meticulous planner, manages make it all the way into the little basement bathroom before being sick.

Sometimes Mulder waits outside the restroom for her, to hand her a cup of water and make sure she’s alright; but today she’s spiky and tense and radiating that she doesn’t want him near. So he waits in their office, loitering by the filing cabinet, flicking through folders and pretending not to worry about her.

She walks into the room a few minutes later, and Mulder takes one look at her face before dropping the act.

“Scully,” he sighs. “Please. Go home.”

She looks up at him with watery eyes. “It’s just the chemo,” she rasps.

“Dana,” Mulder says, crossing the room and clasping her shoulders. “You need to rest. I can manage alone for the afternoon, I promise. You finished your report, our license application is in, things are stable.” He changes tack, infusing his words with forced levity. “Go sleep it off, have some tea, watch shitty TV. Play hooky for me, okay?”

She’s silent, then he feels her deflate under his palms. “Fine, I’ll go,” she says hoarsely. She clears her throat. “But I’m going make arrangements with an officiant when I get home, because-”

She abandons her sentence, and Mulder drops his hands to his sides. Because time is ticking, he thinks. He can read it on her wan, pinched face.

“I’ll stop in at a jewelry store on my way home, get us some rings,” he offers, wandering behind his desk and nudging his chair awkwardly with a knee.

Scully ducks her chin in an abridged nod. “I doubt we’ll have much need to wear them outside the ceremony, so they don’t have to be anything special. Plain bands are fine.”

Mulder nods. “I’m on it. What’s, uh, what's your ring size?”

She looks up at him, blinking. “I- I don’t know,” she admits. “I’ve never had occasion to find out.”

Mulder purses his lips in thought before leaning down and opening one of his desk draws. He digs through a clutter of office supplies before finding a ball of string. “C’mere,” he says, beckoning her over. “Give me your hand.”

She holds her left hand out, and he loops the end of the string around her ring finger, pinching the cord where it overlaps.

“Do me a favor and cut it right there,” he says.

She grabs a pair of scissors out of the pencil cup on the desk and snips the string, leaving him with a short piece the circumference of her finger.

“Good enough?” he asks.

“It’ll have to do,” she replies.

Mulder hadn’t put ‘shopping for wedding bands’ on his bingo card for 1997, and he’s admittedly out of his depth. The guy behind the counter at the little jewelry store on Prince Street in Alexandria isn’t helping his confidence.

“You want a wedding band?” he says, sizing Mulder up with a once-over. His eyes pause on Mulder’s tie for an uncomfortable two seconds too long, and his nostril flare with what could be disgust.

“Yeah, uh, one for me and one for my partner- fiancé,” Mulder stumbles, correcting himself unnecessarily. “Nothing flashy.”

Picking out his own ring is as easy as pointing at a plain gold band and slipping it on his finger. It fits well enough, and the jeweler packs it away into a tiny box.

Mulder feels somewhat ridiculous handing a jeweler a tiny piece of string and saying ‘this is how big my fiancé’s finger is’. The look the man gives him doesn’t ease the feeling.

“I can’t guarantee correct sizing with this,” the jeweler cautions, gingerly holding the string between two pinched fingers as though it’s a live, writhing worm.

Mulder shrugs. “I’m, uh, sorry, but that’s all I have to go on.”

The jeweler huffily wraps the string around a ring-sizing mandrel, and Mulder thinks he catches the man rolling his eyes. What a dick.

“Alright, so according to this highly sophisticated piece of string, she’s a size six,” the jeweler says flatly. “That’s the average size we carry for women. We can resize most ring styles for you later if it’s the wrong fit.”

“Right, thanks,” Mulder mumbles, scanning the glass case for a suitable ring.

His eyes wander over to slightly higher-end territory, and he immediately sees It.

It’s a simple ring, a thin gold band with a single pearl bracketed by a trio of tiny diamonds on each side.

He has a sudden vision of Scully tucking her hair behind one ear, wearing those delicate pearl stud earrings he secretly loves, and he feels a slosh behind his kneecaps at the image.

Fuck it. She deserves something pretty.

“I’d like that one,” Mulder says, pointing to the pearl ring in the case.

“That’s a promise ring,” the jeweler informs him. “A bit subdued for an engagement.”

“We’re a subdued couple,” Mulder replies, pulling out his wallet.

We.

Scully gave him no budget; and besides, this was his gift for her. That’s how tradition goes, right? Man buys woman ring. And from the sour look on the jeweler’s face, this ring isn’t even that expensive.

The man snaps the little velvet ring box shut and puts it into a crisp bag with the other box. “Will that be all?” he drones.

Mulder holds out his debit card. “I’ve done enough damage for one day.”

[imgonnapanic]

Miyagi Setter Squad Responding to “I Love You”

I can’t condition because I sprained my ankle again so here you guys go. Also I’m so sorry for the oddly specific name but if you want the other setters lmk 😭 I’ll do them later I’m too tired. ⚠️SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2 ⚠️

Oikawa Tooru

You were over at his house to study and maybe pass around a volleyball for a couple hours.

It was a pretty peaceful setting, you were splayed out on the floor looking at the ceiling

And he was on his computer doing god-knows-what.

It definitely wasn’t homework-

The silence is destroyed by your phone buzzing.

Your ride was here.

So you pick up your stuff, and you’re just about to walk out the door when it slips out.

“I love you, bye!”

This smooth fuck will pretend to be totally chill on the outside.

But on the inside he’s probably exploding.

He has seen this in movies, read it in books, seen it told to other people.

A couple of people have even said it to him.

(Even though he had no idea why because he had only known them on a last name basis for thirty seconds.)

So he knew alllll about it and exactly how to respond.

But...He didn’t execute as well as he wanted to.

So he ends up giving you some weird ass eyes as his whole face flushes.

“I love you tOo, Y/n.”

You don’t know whether to laugh at him or just leave

But you’re grinning the whole way home.

Yahaba Shigeru

‘Yahaba does not get annoyed at much’

Lies. He gets annoyed at so much that he thinks he might have some repressed anger issues.

The butt naked screaming in the bath after losing to Karasuno helped him come to that conclusion.

But not much actually sets him off.

In other words, he’s not slamming anyone against the wall unless it’s really fucking important.

Or, nowadays, when someone does something to cross you.

Now, you did not know that Yahaba was capable of throwing hands until today.

Because most of his wounds were dealt out verbally.

However, you figured the guy that stole your gym clothes deserved it.

You were just planning to leave it alone, but there he was.

Off campus.

Tackling this random dude.

The fight lasts about thirty seconds before you can run into certain death and break it the fuck up before someone goes to jail.

The dude has a bloody nose already and he listens to you and steps back.

“Apologize.”

He mumbles out a sorry before stalking away.

Yahaba is looking way too pleased with himself.

“That’s assault.”

“That’s chivalry.”

“Shigeru, I love you, but don’t fucking do that again.”

He mumbled a response back. “Yeah yeah I won’t. I love you too.”

It will probably take him at least an hour for that to hit-

Kageyama Tobio

He doesn’t have a very affectionate family, so that phrase has probably only been used sparingly around him.

But he has been silently willing you to say it to him for a while.

He’s already on top of the world when he beats Aoba Johsai.

You are so proud of him for finally taking down his rival.

When that final point is scored, you’re going crazy in the stands with Yachi, Saeko, and Shimada.

It was the most excited you had seen him in a long time.

He achieved his goal! He was now the best setter in the prefecture.

Not that he wasn’t before, obviously 🙄

But you’re sitting on the bus with him after they win, and it’s quiet.

Kageyama’s happy, you’re happy, and there’s almost no one on the bus.

You rest your head on your shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you. I love you so much, Tobio.”

*bang bang there goes your HEAAAAART*

On the outside he gets that wobbly look on his face, but on the inside he’s like

TWO IN ONE DAY?!

You’ve just been watching him smile at the bus driver for twenty seconds before he snaps out of it.

“Ah-I love you too, Y/n.”

You didn’t expect him to be so excited about that.

It was the sweetest thing ever.

Sugawara Koushi

It was after he came up to you and told you that he would no longer be in Karasuno’s starting lineup.

And at first you’re like.

“Bull-fucking-shit Koushi, what do you mean you’re not starting?”

He explains that a new first year setter had arrived with much better technique.

And that the coach had sat him down and explained that to him.

And that he knew that Kageyama was better and that he would be supporting the team from the bench.

You can tell his heart is breaking with every second he tells you this.

So you need to shut him up. Getting mad at the coach wouldn’t help.

You start telling him all the things he can do to still be a significant player.

He could stat games, keep a notebook, make hand signals, paint the notebook-

You can tell he’s feeling much better about himself by the end of your talk.

You pick your next words very carefully.

“You’re gonna have a great season, trust me. I love you, okay?”

Alllll the color just drains from both of your faces.

He’s like “yeah-wait. You love me?”

You rethinking your life decisions: “Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

“...Good.”

“Good.”

Shirabu Kenjirou

MotherfUCKER-

Well, he’s flustered, he’ll give you that.

But you’re not living that one down anytime soon.

You were on your way to school, making fun of stereotypical romance mangas.

“Sh-sh-shirabu-kun!! I guess you have to get to class now...😞🥺💞🌸”

“...we’ll see 😶”

“OHHHHHMYGOSH💞💞💞💞🌸🌸🥺”

By this time, you’re on campus, getting weird stares.

Past, single Shirabu would have given a shit.

But he only had a couple more minutes of making fun of people with you before he had to go to his classes.

Stupid 4.0

So now, you’re just pointing out random things that the horses were doing.

One of them kicked its own shit, and both of you lost it.

You guys were folded in half until coach Washijo came up behind you, and ordered you both to get to class.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you guys started laughing again.

“Well, I don’t wanna be taken out of the starting lineup, so let’s get to class.”

“Okay, love you.”

Oh shit. You did not mean to say that. For Christ’s sake, it had only been a month.

He looks like he’s seen Goshiki fall down the stairs. Almost triumphant.

“I love you too, Y/n. Now go attend to that math grade of yours.”

“Shut the hell up :)”

Semi Eita

Was very well planned out and very thought through.

It was ✨Valentine’s Day✨

And you had it written down in a card because you were pussying out you were a little nervous.

Plus, you could always brush it off and pretend like writing it down wasn’t as big of a deal as saying it.

On the other end, Semi was also planning to tell you.

Like, he was sure you already knew.

And he was sure he was making it into a bigger deal than it should have been.

But whatever, Semi’s never been one to do things halfway anyhow.

He just wasn’t obvious about it.

So, Shiratorizawa was just g l i t t e r i n g that morning.

Which was why you both were currently at a cafe, very far away from it.

This had also been planned, because his coach would not like it very much if he knew he didn’t have the Flu.

So you guys are laughing, talking, awkwardly holding hands over the table.

It’s so obvious that both of you are nervous.

And Semi’s like “wHats wRoNg bAbY?”

As if he’s not in the exact same situation.

So you just hand him the card and the gift you got him for Valentine’s Day and he opens it up.

And you’re basically ready to melt into the floor when he puts the card down.

“You love me huh?”

No answer.

“Well, I love y o u t o o.”

He got so quiet at the end, but the words were finally said, and you were both satisfied.

[thinwhitewritings]

A Shot and A Story - Ashton

Summary: Based off of that one video of Ashton bringing a fan on stage to take a shot with her for her birthday - can’t stop thinking of it and I need it. 

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk endeavors, lots of touching, crowds, mini makeout sesh

Rating: 18+ (no smut, a lil kiss kiss and some adult stuff but not smut)

This is unedited because I’m impatient. Enjoy!

You’d been dying to go to a concert for your birthday. Especially your twenty-first. A drink in your hand with music and friends - how could it be better? So, your friends all pitched in to get you guys floor seats to a 5 Seconds of Summer concert. You had all seen them live on your own but this would be the first time you went as a group, and it was beyond exciting, especially since they just so happened to have a show on your birthday. 

The only drawback had been it wasn’t in your hometown. You had to take a small trip to get to the city where they were performing, and somehow your parents had booked a hotel for the four of you who were going, a birthday gift they’d called it. You were surprised either way. The group checked into the hotel, which was just down the street from the venue, a few bars littered along the street - which you would hit at some point. If that was before or after the show, you didn’t care. You were here with your favorite people and going to see your favorite band for the first time in a very long time - and got to get drunk all the while. 

Your friends had brought goodies along, including a sash, mini shots to sneak into the venue, and a sign that said ‘She’s 21 today, get her drunk!’ They claimed it was for the bars, but one of them decided to sneak it with you to the show. You’d gone to dinner and gotten plenty of attention in the form of a free drink from a guy across from your table, and a free dessert from the restaurant. You felt on top of the world, and the night was just getting started. 

You made it to the show with ease, using the opening act to get drinks from a bar in the arena, coming back to your spot just as the lights came down. Screams erupt from the crowds around you, and you felt the excitement from your chest to your toes. The band came onstage with energy, opening up the show with enough motion and lights to blind an entire highway of cars. Song by song passed, your friends making sure you continuously had a drink in your hand. About halfway through the first half of the show, your friend broke out that magical sign, holding it above all of you as you sang along and bounced and screamed. They’d just wrapped up Empty Wallets when Luke speaks up. “Hey, wait, wait - who’s birthday is it?” He asks, pulling an in-ear out and coming to the edge of the stage, pointing in your groups direction. Before you can get a word out, they begin shoving you forward, Luke laughing as they beg for him to get you a drink. 

“Who told you there was alcohol up here?” Ashton remarks, now moving out from his drum set holding up a red solo cup. 

“Ash, you’re very clearly holding an unmarked beverage. In a solo cup of shittin’ things.” Michael laughs. 

You’re trying to pay attention, but a security guard has moved the barrier so that he can lead you to the stage ramp - and it hits you, holy shit this is actually happening. You’re thanking the buzz that’s in your veins for the lack of nerves you have once you’re on stage all of them greeting you with wide smiles and cheers. “Ok but really, to... no one’s surprise, there is alcohol up here.” Calum points to the bottle towards the back of the stage, Ashton quickly grabbing it as the others start asking you your name. One of them asks to double check that you are in fact 21 before pouring out alcohol in front of a whole ass arena. Once it’s in Luke’s hand, he’s moving to Michael’s side, leaning into him as they both assess the card. “Yep, that is definitely today.” Michael confirms. 

“And that is 21 years from today - we are clear for take off everyone.” You haven’t said more than five words but you just feel blissfully happy. A hand comes up to your back and you jump a little, not expecting it, but are greeted with Ashton at your side. He’s leaning into Calum’s mic for everyone to hear. “This might look like water, but I promise everyone that this is 100% tequila.” Screams come from the crowd as he hands over the plastic cup, raising it. You take it and match him, about to take the shot before he stops. Under the immense amount of sound and projected discussion from the other bandmates, Ashton leans to your ear, his free hand taking your wrist carefully and very lightly. “Wait, let’s link arms.” He pulls back with a look of ‘you wanna?’ and you give a wide grin and a nod of your head. With ease, your arms are intertwined and you are nearly chest to chest with the drummer. A few more cries leave the massive audience you have before they all give you a hug, a few birthday wishes before dismissing you off stage. 

Your friends are all shaking your arms and bouncing incessantly when you return asking how you felt, and generally freaking out. The only thing you could get out was “Please tell me you have that on video.”

. . . 

After the show, you decided to run over to one more bar before you headed in for the night, really wanting to make the night well rounded and capture all of the experiences you could. Getting to the bar you realize that it’s actually more of a club. And when you get in there, you almost immediately lose your friends. You’d managed so well up until now, but you figure that you’re better off trying to find them at the bar, since there was only one of them. 

So you navigate your way there, and flag down a bartender for a drink. As you finishing up your payment, you could’ve sworn you heard your name. You turn your head a few times, looking in the crowd for your friends’ faces - only to come up with one that wasn’t in your group. It’s Ashton, approaching with what seems like a crew member behind him, both of them with a glass of beer in their hand. “Hey! It’s the birthday girl!” He greets, swinging an arm open to offer another hug, which you happily take. You back up, holding your drink before leaning towards him, his head dipping to listen to you. “Where’s the other guys?” He gives a nod, a hand running through his hair. 

“They were kind of exhausted, and bailed on me. They’re holed up at our table. No fun if you ask me.” He taunts, giving you a smile which you return. He moves to introduce the guy behind him, to be met with a stranger. You can’t help but laugh as he exasperatedly turns back to you. “What the hell, do I smell or something? I showered before I came here.” He jokes and you can’t stop the smile on your face. 

“If it’s any consolation, my friends and I got split up the second we got here. So it’s kind of a miracle that you managed to have him around that long.” Ashton laughs at your words, and you find a hand on your back again as he leans in. 

“He probably went to our table. Do you wanna go check with me?” You give a nod once he’s asked, and he grins, hand unmoving from your back. He proceeds to guide you to the table he speaks of, a few more familiar faces which all light up at the sight of you. A few utterances of your name come through again, greeting you happily. 

You sit with the group, meeting Sierra and Crystal while you were there, finding yourself somehow completely comfortable with this group. Afterall, you practically grew up with these guys, even if you’d never met them until tonight. A few rounds go by, and you’re finally starting to think about calling it a night. You’re looking at your phone, seeing that your friends have all said to just meet at the hotel, as they’re not having any luck finding each other, let alone you. You try another text - seeing as this happened because you couldn’t get any messages through - and hope that if any of them go through it was that one. That you were safe and had plenty of stories to tell. You’d been chugging water after the third round, telling Ashton that you’d needed to head home tomorrow and wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be sick for the drive, which he then cut you off in response. He however, had still been drinking. So as you lean into him to speak, his arm wraps around you, staying planted as you speak. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” You ask and he nods, the hand holding his drink points in the general direction. 

“Do you want me to walk you over there?” He questions, and you look at him, seeing his features in the very dim neon lights. His hand feels firm, but his thumb is slowly tracing an up and down line into your skin, and you’re trying your best to soak it in. This had to be a dream. The whole time you’d been at the table, his hand had jumped around, on the booth back just above your shoulders, on your thigh, pushing hair out of your eyes - any way he could linger on you he had. Which is why you let him escort you to the bathroom. 

The walk over was pretty uneventful, aside from Ashton spilling the rest of his drink due to someone elbowing his glass. He was annoyed by this, but didn’t let it show in his expressions. In the hallway of the restroom, it’s rather dark, give for the slight light shining through the cracks of the closed bathroom door. You’d turned to Ashton to tell him he could go back to the table, but he’d thrown his beer glass away, and was facing you fully. The hand that had been in yours, now slinks up to your waist, the other matching it. He can see you’re about to say something and leans to your ear to speak. “What is it beautiful?”

Suddenly, you don’t want him to go back to the table. When you see his face again, his forehead is nearly on yours, your breath hitching. “N-Nothing. I just...” You shake your head minutely, being careful not to move too much in the crowded space. Your eyes meet as music blasts around you, not letting you be able to think. His face suddenly is encased in light as the bathroom door swings open. His eyes shift to the door and he looks back to you. “Bathroom’s free.” He points out, and in the boldest move you’ve ever made, you grab his hand on your waist and pull him into the bathroom. 

Ashton shuts the door and locks it with a click, being quick to move back to where you had been positioned before, but this time, takes no time to cup your face and pull your lips to his. Your eyes shut as your own hands move to gently hold the bottom of his arms, as his tongue dips along your bottom lip. Hands move from your face to the back of your neck, your energies moving so simultaneously. You finally pull back from what seems like forever to someone banging on the door. The two of you had both looked to the door and you laugh. “Let me use the restroom, and then we can go back.” You offer, slowly pulling away to move to the stall, and Ashton’s head tilts, looking to your backside. 

“And by back, you mean my hotel room, right?”

So much for your parent’s hotel room ‘gift’.

[twistedtummies2]

Birthday Belly (LeonaXReader)

I wrote this yesterday for my own birthday. I didn’t really go into this with much of a plan, this story is 99% just me freestyling and whipping out some self-indulgent nonsense involving Leona Kingscholar and his appetite. It came out to about 4000 words, which is relatively short for MY stories on here. XD Hopefully you all will enjoy it.

----------------------------------------------------

Living at the Ramshackle Dorm had, you thought, left you almost impervious to surprises. The 999 Happy Haunts who inhabited the old manor house had tried nearly every trick up their capes to spook you and shock you, and after dealing with so many dark mages for so long – facing demigods and fairy princes along the way – you didn’t think much could startle you. Today, you were going to be proven wrong. You sighed with some relief, removing your obligatory birthday sash and letting it drape over the arm-rest of the sofa as he leaned back and closed your eyes. Back in your homeworld, you had never really been much of a party person. You had never much cared for crowds, even among people you knew well; part of the joy of being one of only two (living) beings who called Ravenswood Manor home was that you were able to find privacy and peace fairly easily. However, despite not being a mage, and despite being so lonely there, your friends and the school itself had gone to a great deal of trouble to provide you with a party. You smiled wearily as you eyed the streamers and other decorations strung about your ground floor rooms. A huge banner reading “Happy Birthday…!” and followed by your name was hung over the fireplace, and piled up next to the spot where you’d installed your television and other such things was a stack of presents you had gotten from all your friends.

Ace had given you a set of playing cards and poker chips, winking as he promised to give you a chance to put them to use. Deuce, meanwhile, had been much more sensible, purchasing some cooking apparel he knew you could put to good use. Riddle Rosehearts, meanwhile, brought you some cherry tarts he and Trey had made together. Cater Diamond also appeared, and had bought a new external drive for your laptop computer. “I would have gotten you a new phone,” Cater had smiled. “But I didn’t think you needed one. Speaking of, BIRTHDAY SELFIE! COME ON OVER HERE…!” Idia hadn’t stayed for the party, but his brother Ortho had been happy to pop in. The two had pitched their cash together to buy you a new game system, along with a new game to play on it. Idia had personally sent a birthday card, as well; according to Ortho, his hands had been shaking so much trying to figure out what to write in it, he thought his brother’s fingers might fall off. All Idia had written in the card was, “Have a nice day,” probably because he had freaked out at the thought of saying anything else. Poor dear. Somebody – you weren’t sure who – had very, VERY wisely remembered to invite Malleus Draconia, who came with Silver. Silver spent most of the party sleeping, but Malleus had been kind enough to bestow a gift of his own, in the form of a leatherbound edition of The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe. Naturally, Kalim had shown up, tugging Jamil along behind him. Each had a different gift to give: Kalim had brought a VERY expensive looking carpet, done in the ornate styling of his homeland. “It’s been in my family for…um…uh…” he had paused to try and count the years on his fingers…and eventually ran out of fingers AND toes to count on. “…A very, very long time! Like…SUPER long! I thought it might look nice in your bedroom or the ballroom or something! It’s, uh…it’s not too much, is it?” Gods bless that Baby Otter. He needed so many hugs. Jamil’s gift had been much more reserved: a mancala game box, which he had presented all while trying not to blush under his black hood. Vil had stopped by for a short while; he’d only stayed briefly, claiming the “decadent atmosphere of your gloomy domicile” would mess up his hairdo. (Go figure.) However, he had kindly brought you a gift in the form of custom-made suit of clothes he had ordered from his own personal tailor: some of the finest and most formal wear you had ever seen in your life. “Now you can actually look halfway presentable, instead of resembling a half-baked potato, next time there’s a big event,” he had smiled, as if he had been doing you a tremendous favor. Well. With clothes like this, you weren’t going to argue or complain. Azul had stopped for a brief “hello and goodbye” visit; he actually wanted to stay longer – Floyd, who had been with him, seemed particularly sad he couldn’t stay and squeeze his favorite “Little Shrimp” half to death all afternoon and evening…and in his case, that phrase was probably literal – but the Mostro Lounge was open that day, and he didn’t want to leave Jade in charge of things alone for TOO long at the office. The octopus man had brought you a bracelet covered in small seashells: simple, but surprisingly sweeter than you had expected. Floyd, meanwhile…he just hugged you. “What’s a better present for Shrimpy than a nice, tight SQUEEZE from their bestest, most favorite eel-person…riiiiiiight?” The safety of your spine and lungs demanded you agree and hug Floyd back. Ruggie and Jack had been among the first to show up. The latter had brought a hastily-wrapped DVD: a movie entitled “The Wolf of Pumpkin Hollow.” “I didn’t get this because I actually care,” he had clarified, looking everywhere but at your face and scratching the back of his white-eared head. “Just…everyone else would have thought it was rude if I didn’t get you something. Not that it matters what they think! Just…didn’t want to have to put up with it.” He was such a puppy. He truly was. Not only was Ruggie one of the first to arrive, he turned out to be THE first to give you your gift: a box of doughnuts. All glazed. “My grandma used to tell me: ‘Ruggie, get people the same kinds of gifts you’d want them to get you.’ Well, I can’t think of much I want more than doughnuts!” he sang out with an innocent smile. “You just wanted to have some to eat yourself, didn’t you?” you couldn’t help but smirk. Ruggie had gasped, seemingly offended…only to eventually ask if he could have some. The four remaining doughnuts – which you had to sneak away while the hyena wasn’t looking – were now on a plate in your fridge. You’d eat them later. Others had come and gone throughout the day; none of them had gifts to bring, but they had been happy to pop in, give well-wishes, and enjoy the party for a while. Now, however, all the guests were gone; even Grim had left, as you had asked him for some alone time that night. He and the gang from Heartslabyul were going to have a sleepover as a result. Despite the smile on your face as you looked over at your gifts, there was a hint of sadness to your expression. The one person whose presence you’d been looking forward to most hadn’t come. You’d asked his dorm-mates if they knew where he was or what he was doing, but none of them told you. Most of them very clearly had no clue…except for Ruggie. You got the feeling he DID know, he just wasn’t telling. Honestly, that didn’t settle your mind much. Your smile faded completely, and you closed your eyes once more, sighing through your nose…this time with a hint of despondency. Had he forgotten it was your birthday? Was he with somebody else right now? Maybe he was sleeping somewhere, like the big, lazy kit he was…some part of you – you couldn’t tell what part – kind of hoped that was all it was. He probably wasn’t hurt or sick…if he had been you’d think Ruggie would have told you… You glanced out the window. Evening was turning into night. You huffed softly through your nostrils, and stretched a bit where you sat. The party had worn you out more than you thought. You shook your head to clear it of your more perturbing thoughts, and began to wonder if you should just get to bed early tonight… A knock came at the door, jolting you to a more attentive state. You stood up from the ouch and headed out through the hall to the foyer. You wondered who it was…had one of the guests left something behind? As you approached the door, you adjusted your pristine white suit – another obligatory item for those celebrating a birthday at Night Raven College – which must have made whoever was on the other side impatient: they knocked again. “One moment, I’m here!” you called out, and opened the door. “Who’s-?” You froze, the word “there” dying before it ever reached your larynx. The first thing your eyes took in was the familiar, dimly-glowing pair of green ones staring back at you, as well as the dark mane and leonine ears and tail that accompanied their owner. A scar was slashed across one of the two eyes. The second thing – and the one that truly made you freeze – was the ENORMOUS, bare belly that was only inches away from you. The skin was tanned and smooth and supple-looking, the organ swollen to the size of a large watermelon, and only slightly less taut. The navel looked like the center of a maelstrom, drawing your attention towards that bloated gut as it let out a deep, burbling rumble…just before a black-clad hand slapped over it, hiding it from sight. At the same time, another hand suddenly scooped itself under your chin…and you found your head being tilted up, your eyes now locking on a pair of perfect-looking, velvety lips…which then parted to reveal a gaping, red mouth, dripping with saliva and framed by two rows of pointed, pearly fangs. You barely had time to take in the view of this glistening, slimy orifice…before your ears rang and your nose crinkled as two words were burped up. Right in your face. “HAAAAPPY…BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP-DAY!” The belch was followed by a light sigh and a chuckle as Leona Kingscholar patted his stomach proudly. It jiggled at his touch. He smirked as he took in your expression: a loopy, flushed look was on your face. You were swaying so much that if he removed his hand from under your chin at that moment, you might have just toppled over. “Hm-hm-hmmm…did you like that?” he purred, smoothly. You nodded dumbly, still smiling a loopy, dazed smile as the sound reverberated in your ears, and your nose tingled from the lingering odor of the lion’s gut gas: a strong, heady, meaty smell that twined through the pockets of your gray matter, practically putting you in a trance for several long seconds. Finally, you found your voice. “…Where have you been?” “Preparing your present,” Leona said, as if that should have been obvious, and gently nudged you back as he entered the house and swaggered past you. With every step, his hips swung, and you found your blush seemed to be permanent as you watched them rock and sway as he strutted towards the living room. You followed him as if a leash had been tied ‘round your neck, and watched as he flopped onto your couch, gut sloshing with every little motion of his form. He was dressed in his usual clothes, but his gut was so massive it caused his mustard-colored shirt to ride up, exposing his belly to the world. The lion demi growled as he reached down; his waistband was still buttoned up, and clearly it was causing him discomfort. His fingers fumbled for the belt buckle…and he frowned as he couldn’t quite get it to cooperate. “Tch. Figures,” he grumbled. “After that entrance…pain in my ass…” The familiar phrase snapped you out of your stupor, and you chuckled, rolling your eyes. You sat down next to your princely boyfriend, and shooed his hands away. He frowned, growling indignantly, but allowed you to fiddle with his buckle, and finally managed to work it off… POPK! ZZZRRRIIIP! GUHBLORLSH! Leona let out a sound between a sigh and a grunt as – the moment the buckle was released – his trouser button gave up the ghost, popping open as the zipper flew down, the sheer weight and pressure of his belly forcing them open. He sighed as his belly poured into his lap like a mass of mocha-colored dough, wobbling as it noisily burbled. “UUUUUUUURRRRRRRROOOOOOOOAAAARRRRRRRP!” he belted out. “Oof…that felt good…” You blushed bright red, helpless to do anything but nod; you were already starting to tremble at so many…APPEALING things happening all at once. Leona smirked anew as he noticed your expression, leaning back a little further against the sofa cushions as his scarred eye flashed with a superior gleam. “You didn’t think I forgot, did you?” “How much did you eat?” you asked, marveling at the size of his belly as you fingers fidgeted and twitched, looking for something to do. You suddenly felt a little parched… “Mmmmm…not enough,” Leona growled, and grinned wider, revealing his pointed teeth. “I could fit more in there, I’m sure…” He licked his lips in a sultry, almost inviting way. You couldn’t keep yourself from letting out a shaky, shuddering sound as you shivered, a mixture of warmth and cold flickering across your spine. Leona chuckled – his gut bounced with his mirth, and tilted his head back with a sigh. “Ahhhhhh…went to my favorite buffet and helped myself,” he elaborated as he gave his belly a few hearty slaps. “Pure meat, every ounce.” You nodded slowly, dumbly. Leona snorted through his nose, raising an eyebrow as he saw you openly ogle his stomach. “Hmph. Are you just gonna stare at it all night, Herbivore?” he grunted. He waited till you looked up at him before going on: “Go ahead. It’s not gonna rub itself.” Your heartbeat quickened and you smiled widely. Leona grimaced and snarled. “Oi…just rub, don’t gimme those eyes…you look like that brat back home…” You chuckled – it was hard not to giggle, honestly – and gratefully helped yourself to your “present.” Your hands quickly fell over Leona’s bloated gut as he stretched his arms over the back of the couch. You scooted closer, and quivered at the intense warmth of the half-lion’s greedy, globular gut. Your palms and fingers began to lightly run across his girth, stroking his belly, just to get a feel of the texture and temperature. His flesh was silky-smooth, making it so hard to resist just pressing your face against it and nuzzling into his belly… You did resist though. At least for the moment. Instead, your fingers began to knead and massage the belly of your beau, pressing down onto the thick soup you could feel churning away inside his bowels. You prodded experimentally, almost as if trying to distinguish each bit of food from the next…but there was no way you could. Whatever Leona had gobbled up was now little more than a uniform mush being swirled about by his strong stomach muscles. His insides warbled and rumbled, as if in response to your ministrations. Leona sighed, closing his eyes and savoring the way you massaged his distended tanker. In truth, the lazy lion didn’t need much of an excuse to stuff himself…but you didn’t care that much. Whether he did this for himself, or for you, as he claimed, the end result was the same. “Mmmmm…that’s it…keep it up,” he mumbled. “Wasn’t planning on stopping,” you said, more to yourself than him, but he snickered anyway. “Heh heh…good. Prey like you should be happy to have a chance like this,” he said, and playfully patted your cheek, causing your blush to intensify. A spike of ego shot up in you, and you purposefully pressed down harder against his stomach. It let out a HUMONGOUS groan, and Leona’s eyes widened and his cheeks ballooned…before he let out another sloppy, rumbling belch. “BUUUUUUUHHHHHHHUUUUUUUURRRRRRLLLLLLLUUUUUUP! Haaah…oi. Not so rough,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at you, tail lashing and thumping against the sofa cushions. “Sorry,” you smiled innocently. “You had so much hot air in there, it clearly had to be let out.” Leona’s eyes narrowed further. “I could turn you into dust right here and right now,” he said, warningly. “I guess you could,” you said, smoothly, and then traced a finger around the rim of his deep, dark trench of a navel. The effect was instantaneous. Leona tensed up for a second, inhaling sharply through his teeth…then sighed and relaxed, all but melting into his seat, eyes fluttering closed again as he purred louder than ever. You smirked triumphantly, as you stuck your finger into his navel and wiggled it around a bit. “Still want to turn me into dust?” you teased. Leona could only moan. He moaned even louder as you cupped one hand on the underside of his belly: the softest, warmest, most sensitive portion of his abdomen. You gently rubbed your hand against them, and traced your fingers over his sides. You could hear his toes curl in his boots; his tail you could SEE curl into a spiral shape as he bit his lip with pleasure. “I’ll take that as a no,” you observed, a dreamy sort of sigh upon your lips as you were honestly enjoying this just as much as he was, a fact you made clear you when you half-consciously murmured: “You’re so SOFT…” “Mmmm…I’ll be softer once it’s all digested,” Leona mumbled. “Vargas is probably gonna complain…think he’d pester me about that stuff if I ate ‘im?” “I think if you ate Coach Vargas, you’d just get a bellyache,” you said, not wanting to add that someone as egotistical as Leona eating someone as showboating as Vargas probably meant all the weight would to his head… …Cracks like that weren’t funny, and could get you bitten. The second part you didn’t mind as much as one might think, to be fair. …You really needed to see a shrink… Leona just scoffed, unaware of your thoughts as you continued to rub and massage his belly. You gave the side of his belly a few hearty thumps, watching the way his belly shifted and jiggled like a water balloon. His stomach groaned and churned rhythmically, squelches and squeals of liquid being compressed and stirred echoing just beneath the luscious skin of the half-lion prince. It sounded like a huge vat of semi-solid mash being pumped and processed in a factory…a sound some might have considered nauseating, but you just bit your lip, rubbing and kneading more vigorously as you heard pockets of gas being released. As you kneaded and pressed down, Leona would BELCH and BURP periodically. Each was short and low, which only made you rub his gut more vigorously. He gave you a bored sort of look as he realized what you were doing. “Didn’t get enough to drink at your party, did you, you thirsty little Herbivore?” “Not even close,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona rolled his eyes, and held up a finger in a “one moment” gesture. He then curled that same finger down, balling that hand into a fist…and pumped his fist against his chest once, twice, thrice…before unleashing a true wall-rattler, which flapped his lips and made him go crosseyed. “GYYYYUUUUUHHHHHEEEEERRRRRWWWOOOOAAAAARRRRRIIIIIPLK!” Leona sighed as the eruption came to an end, and snorted as you squeaked at the sound. “Happy now?” he drawled boredly. “Very,” you peeped, patting his belly thankfully. Leona rolled his eyes as he scratched the side of his gut with his leather-tipped fingers, making it slosh under your palm. You quivered. His lips quirked. “Tch. You’re such a snack,” he muttered. “It’s amazing nobody’s already gobbled you up…” “Just lucky so far, I guess,” you shrugged, and scratched his belly with your own fingers. Leona let out a non-committal rumble…then smirked a bit. “We could fix that, you know,” he purred in a slippery, sly way. You froze, and looked up at him slowly, a little confused and slightly apprehensive. Leona smiled back, eyes half-lidded; the dominant, powerful, but affectionately amused smile that always left you shivering for all the right reasons. Then, one of his his hands lifted, and cupped your cheek. He brushed a thumb against it, and you smiled gently back… …Just before that same hand slid forward, and wrapped around the back of your head. “Here,” he growled, commandingly, as he began to force you downwards. “Listen. Feel.” You didn’t have much choice, and it wasn’t as if you would disobey if you could. You surrendered easily as he eased you down against his belly, pressing your head down and holding it firmly, curling his hand so one of your was right above his navel. You felt your chest flutter as the warmth of his body was now right up against your face, and the deep, thick GRRRROOOOLLLLLLG sounds of his ever-hungry belly echoed in your ear like rolling thunder. You stayed perfectly still; time and place seemed to fade into nothingness. All that mattered was the moment: you were hypnotized by his belly, barely conscious of anything. He started speaking, but it took you a few seconds to realize what he was even saying. “…I’d you’d like it, huh?” were the first words you made out, followed by still more: “I could swallow you alive, Herbivore. You’d slither right down my throat, curl up in my stomach…and never come out. I’d just fall asleep, and let you stay there. It wouldn’t have to hurt: one big burp, and your air would be history. Then, you’d go straight to my hips…my thighs…my ass…even my belly. Every part of me you love most.” He paused, purring as his stomach let out a greedy, longing rumble. “How does that sound for your birthday, Herbivore?” he crooned. “How would you like to spend your birthday – your LAST birthday – turning into more of the body you’re so in love with. To be the snack you’re supposed to be. To spend the rest of eternity as just a part of me.” None of these were spoken as questions. You shivered and let out a whimpering sound – not necessarily one of fear, either – as you heard him lick and smack his lips. He leaned down and sniffed at you, purring in the back of his throat. “Mmmmmmm…I could make that happen. Right here. Right now.” You bit your lip; as his stomach rumbled, you closed your eyes. You could picture yourself inside of there…partially submerged in acid and bubbling goo…embraced on every side by his powerful muscles…hearing him belch with satisfaction above and around you…rubbing over you as you were steadily digestedinside of him… You took longer than most people probably would before speaking. “I know you could,” you said, very softly, then added, “Maybe someday you will.” Leona blinked…then puffed with amusement, his smile growing slightly more affectionate as he ran his fingers through your hair the way a cat might. “Not ready to make this birthday your last, huh?” You opened one eye and carefully shook your head. “If it means next year I could get one as good as this, or better, definitely not,” you responded, without skipping a beat. Leona clucked his tongue, and removed his hand, letting it rest against the back of the sofa. He chuffed as your remained where you were, despite no longer being forced down. “Kinky little morsel,” he mumbled. “Guilty,” you responded in a slightly muffled voice as you freely nuzzled his abdomen, smirking as he purred anew, clearly enjoying it. Leona chuckled, and nudged you, indicating he wanted you to look up at him again. You did…and watched as his cheeks ballooned with gas as he caught a particularly low, gassy burp in his mouth… “HHHHRRRRMMMMLLLLRRRRPH…phoosh.” …Before blowing the residual fumes into your face, almost like a kiss. You nearly fainted dead away. Leona grinned. “Good?” was all he said. “Marry me now.” Leona barked out a laugh and gave your hair a ruffling, then shut his eyes and reclined peacefully once more. “Get back to rubbing, meat,” he growled. “Or I might just swallow you whether you want it or not. Don’t let your gift go to waste.” You smiled and eagerly got back to work, kissing and nuzzling and rubbing his belly worshipfully, without any sign of restraint. Leona’s purring heightened as you pampered his plumpened middle. “Mmmmm…happy birthday, Herbivore,” he growled. “Maybe next year, I’ll add you to my hips…” At the rate things were going…that was starting to sound like a promise more than anything else. If so…you could hardly wait till next year.

 The End

[lovelivingmydreams]

The worst possible thing.

*stares at this long and hard.* Fine!

@kingcreativityau you know who is responsible for what comes next.

Yes @hunter-with-a-tardis I'm looking at you

Janus was pacing the floor. He didn't like this one bit.

“What's taking him so long?” he wondered aloud.

It was a rhetorical question and the sides who were sitting here waiting couldn’t answer him even if it wasn't. No one liked this plan. It hadn't even been a plan. It was half an idea Logan and Janus would have dismissed at once if Virgil hadn’t been in the room  and overheard Janus mumble about it. Harnessing Virgil’s given powers and undo what king had done.

It was too risky to even consider. Janus didn’t need Virgil to point out all  the ways it could go very wrong. To everyone’s shock Virgil came with a solution though. He'd take king up on his offer and finish the gallery, ask him to teach him to get control over the shadows. If king took a liking to teaching, which Virgil thought he might, he'd keep doing it and eventually Virgil could lift the curses and they all could get back to helping Thomas.

Janus had wanted to argue. Sure king enjoyed instructing others in skills he felt more proficient at. He recalled King teaching him to duel not too long ago. He also remembered what happened after the student caught up though. King storming away and then, after he'd managed to get out of king's obstacle… how he'd been cornered, the panic the punishment for daring to upset the king in any way. No this was their mess. Virgil was not yet on king's bad side. That was a card they couldn't waste on something that risky.

But Logan had been writing and Janus was convinced he'd say something similar. And Virgil was more likely to listen to Logan so he'd waited.

He should have known Logan would never just dismiss any idea out of hand.

Somehow they'd all agreed to see if Virgil could get a first lesson. And soon Virgil left them to practice with the king every day. Which should be a comfort right? King clearly enjoyed the activity and he was not suspicious of anything. That was exactly what had Janus worried now.

Because king wasn't the only one enjoying the lessons. Sure Virgil still seemed terrified of the man, but whenever he returned he was deep in thought, sometimes with a small smile on his face. The one that said: I just did something right.

He'd been looking at them oddly too, like he was figuring out a complicated puzzle.

Something was off but Virgil refused to talk about it. Something about a promise he made.

A click of a pen echoed through the mostly empty space and Janus' head snapped up.

Logan needed his attention.

He was scribbling down something as fast as he could and handed it over. Janus read it over. It was a long ramble, but it came down to one thing.

“I do have faith in Virgil. It's king I’m worried about. One perceived slight and…”

Janus touched the mark on his face. The memory of it's creation very vivid in his mind.

“Aw, you do care,” Virgil's voice came from behind him. Janus whirled around.

Something about what he saw took him back, to a time when he had two misfit friends who didn't hate him. Before the fight.

Maybe if was that mischievous smirk or the way he carried himself as if he couldn't care less what other people thought. Except now he really seemed to mean it.

His clothes weren’t back to normal by any means. They were upgraded though. From a dark version of Roman's original outfit to one reflecting the fitting in upgrade. Except Virgil wore a few medals pinned on his vest. As well as applying Virgil's black and purple with white detailing color scheme.

He also wore a dark purple hooded cape instead of a sash.

Most startling of all, he looked genuinely comfortable with it all.

“Virgil? Is that you?” Janus asked.

Virgil nodded, still smirking. “Indeed it is,” the deep terrifying voice of the King boomed and suddenly he stood behind him hands delicately resting on the youngest side’s shoulders.

But Virgil didn’t even flinch.

“Dear Anxiety made so much progress, I felt he deserved a promotion. I offered him the title of Prince,” king summoned a dark crown in his hand only to immediately clench his fist and make the image disappear. “but he is so loyal to those he considers friends he wouldn't even consider to take my light half’s title,” King praised fondly. He stroked Virgil's hair for a moment. “So he is my head counselor now on top of creative minister. And you should all be happy to know, he made a plea on your behalf.” King waved his hand and suddenly Patton was six years old.

“Wha… I can talk?” Logan gasped astonished.

“You explain the conditions to them. I have to get back to work.” And just like that, King was gone.

“You did it?” Janus asked perplexed this was too good to be true.

“King did. Don't take his generosity for granted,” Virgil warned sternly.

“Virgil, kiddo…”

“You shall not address me like that!” Virgil hissed, his voice booming, twisted and sinister, a dark aura flaring up, making them all step backwards in shock.

Virgil took a deep breath. “Names are for friends and allies. After what I heard… you’ll have to earn my trust back,” he explained a little calmer. They all froze in horror. King told him… of course he did. He'd have to be a fool not to.

“These gifts have conditions attached. Morality you can get back to your own age with good behavior, the reverse is true as well though. Logic your voice can not speak ill of the king and what you do say about him will find it’s way to us.

Any and all communication to the king must go through me. You remember my shadow?” the creature in question appeared next to Virgil.

“He'll… assist you when I am with the king. Ask him if you need to ask me or king something. Oh and fair warning….” Suddenly they all fell to the ground. Crushed by guilt and fear and desperation.

“I’ll do anything to protect Thomas from having to live without us ever again. I won‘t permit you to anger the king. Understood?”

They all nodded as they whipped at their tears.

“Good. Dismissed.” When they looked up Virgil was gone. Only his shadow remained. The creature stared back at them looking heartbroken. “I’m sorry,” it whispered.

“This… might be the worst possible thing,” Logan muttered as he helped Patton up. While the two oldest sides discussed their situation Janus stared in horror at the tragic looking shadow.

How could he have let this happen?

 Janus opened his eyes. He was sweating, his heart was racing. What was real, what was a dream? He looked around. He was in his room. He got up to his knees and tapped a rhythm neither he or his neighbor had heard in years. Virgil used to wake up from nightmares like this. Not sure about reality and scared to leave his room. So they came up with a system. Notes weren't an option when you didn't want to turn on the light and alert Remus someone was awake to play with him. So they made up their version of Morse code.

‘What is going on' was always the start of such a conversation. It was just a long series of rapid light knocks. The first reaction, ‘I hear you' was a flat palm against the door. Then you wait for the other to respond. Virgil's response was quicker than he expected.

‘Patton. Small. Logan. Silent. Twins. One.’

Janus nodded. He hadn't dared to hope that all of it was a dream.

‘you?’ he asked. Though he doubted if Virgil could know what to tell him to assure him he wasn't currently being tutored by king. ‘Scared. Confused. Angry. Sad.’

Janus bit his lip. Virgil didn't use the code for pupil. If there was any real plan like in his nightmare Virgil would mention it. He’d been on the other side of these conversations often enough. Yes, everything was… well not fine but not as horrible as he'd feared. All he had to do to keep his dream from happening was not leave Virgil alone with the king. And… maybe figure out how to tell Virgil what had happened all these years ago.

Janus got ready to knock. There was a knock that meant to convey empathy. To be a comforting reminder that Virgil was not alone. But halfway through he remembered another pattern. One Virgil would always close the conversation with. It was almost an alternative for goodnight in these conversations. But it meant ‘Sorry’. Janus' scales stung with the thought of that word. But if he knocked the pattern… it wasn't the same right?

He took a deep breath and started out with: ‘Thanks.’ He readied his hand it was just three knocks long… But the very thought was agony

‘Welcome. Good night.’

Janus sighed as he heard the reply. Perhaps another time.

‘Good night.’

@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @antiredhuman

[venusdeus]

Court of Kings - Chapter 3

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2380

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: This is Part 3. To start from the prologue, you can use this link. This chapter finally ties into the events of the prologue.

Masterlist

Part 2 <…> Part 4

“Do you play cards your Highness?” the Mistress of the House, Countess of Webstier asked a few hours into the journey.

After a strenuous fifteen day ride up north you have finally arrived at the border that separated the two kingdoms, yours and Seijoh, at the first light of dawn.

When Tooru left two weeks into his arrival you were not given sufficient time to stomach the idea of your upcoming union with the rude prince before you were cast into a carriage with two of your ladies in waiting, chosen by the trusted council to spy on you no doubt, and sent on your marry way, followed by countless guards and staff.

You did not confide in them of course, for you could not. If you were to even say anything negative about the smallest thing, you knew they would carry it back. They already disliked you enough as it was, as to them you were a spoiled princess that did not appreciate her status and her wonderous fate. Oh, how they wished they were betrothed to such a fine man, the most desired bachelor in this part of the world no doubt, and they could not seem to stop talking about it.

The talks bordered on being completely inappropriate most the time, comments on his looks and his skills in different ways thrown out constantly, followed with giggles. So, you sat there silently, looking out the window and occasionally tasting the wine that seemed to be never ending.

The only time you had some peace and quite was when the others were asleep, but then again you gave up your own rest to be able to listen to your thoughts for a short while.

So, when the carriage doors opened at the border for your official handover you were quick to follow. And when they told you that your ladies could not come with you any further, you did not feel disappointed. They were never really your friends anyway.

You thought with the short time between your leave and your fiancé’s, you would have arrived at Seijoh around the same time, or maybe even caught up halfway. Against your expectations however, you were told that the Prince arrived at the kingdom a few days ago but travelled west to pay his respects to his late uncle who passed away three weeks prior when he was visiting your court, while you still had half a month to go.

It was because you traveled heavy with gifts and all the staff that accompanied you, the Countess said once you were introduced. She was an older woman with a stern tone and frown that never left her face. Her thin eyes looked as cold as the harsh winters that her nation was famous for. It was evident that she or any other woman that was assigned to accompany you to the palace did not approve of you. It was not their place to comment on it of course, but you could see it in their manners.

See that they thought you were a child when they took away your dark red dress that they said was behind the current style before dressing you in light blues inside a tent that was fashioned in the middle of the woods where the handover took place. You could see it when they put your hair in a tight bun that sat awkwardly against your face. When they tightened the corset to the point of taking your breath away. And you could see it when they put countless pearls and diamonds against your neck.

You thought you resembled one of your dolls that sat in your room back home with all the unnecessary display of wealth that were thrown on you.

“I’m afraid not.” You lied meeting her eyes “I prefer chess.”

“You must learn soon than. It is quite popular among the ladies at court.” She smiled cockily.

Just as you have crafted your false persona that of a naïve child back at your old home, you thought to continue the act in your new one. It also helped that when you robbed all of them on the card table from their money, they blamed it on luck. The first few times of course, as they would get used to it in no time just like they did in the past.

“Once we arrive you will be presented to the King first. You will not meet his Highness Prince Tooru for another week until the official ball to celebrate your engagement.” She said when you were two days away from your arrival at the palace.

They were using his first name, you pondered. You always made it a point to call him with his title, or simply as Oikawa, but his subjects did not deem it inappropriate to use his first name.

You knew there would be a difference between the cultures of two nations but the people at the Seijoh court seemed to be too unrestrained in their escapades as well as their morals. Although, it was a stark contrast to how they behaved towards you. This cleared the doubts that clouded your mind over the two-week journey from the border to the capital. They were cold to you because you were a foreigner.

This did not dampen your mood in the slightest. On the contrary, suddenly you were excited to be introduced to the court, a sly smirk forming on your face. You wanted to see the reaction the ladies would have when they learnt their beloved bachelor prince was now betrothed to an ignorant foreign girl. Would they be appalled? Angry? It made you giddy to anticipate their reaction.

On the last day of the ride however, right after the outskirts of the capital became visible to you, a plan formed in your head.

You would simply leave.

Bid your time until all the official appearances were over and done with and just leave. They certainly would not expect you to make an escape alone in a foreign land so you would use this as an opportunity. You had a week to learn your way around the palace.

Of course, it was never your intention to be gone forever. You knew better than trying your chances as a woman in the outside world all alone. It was to stall enough time until the wedding arrangement would be delayed. Where you would go however, was a topic that you needed to reflect more upon.

The solution though, came to your feet without you even trying, in the form of a ditzy little thing called Lady Alisa.

She was introduced to you at your arrival to the palace to accompany you till you were to be presented to your fiancé once more, this time formally. You were yet to be given your own ladies in waiting so they opted to bring a temporary solution with this tall and beautiful blonde.

“I live in our estate two-hour ride away from here towards the east, with my mother and my younger brother. Father passed away not long ago you see.” She rattled on as you walked through the corridors “My brother inherited the title after him. Now he goes by Earl Lev, I hope I can introduce you at the ball. But of course, you could visit our estate whenever you wanted to your Highness!”

You did not sense any malicious intent or lies behind her words. She simply was an innocent woman that did not understand that a Princess that were to be married in a weeks’ notice to the Crown Prince would never be able to visit her.

But you were thankful, as her innocence gave you the perfect escape. They would believe that you, a credulous girl, decided to pay a last-minute visit to her newfound friend who was as gullible as she was, to sooth the excitement that was to come. So, you played the part of a good friend.

When they found you, surely the wedding day would almost be over, and with all the guests on their way back home they would be forced to delay it for another month or two. They would never say that the princess was gone of course. Probably they would make up an excuse that would save them face. And you did not care for their reputation.

Just like how Oikawa did not care for yours when he insisted on being alone at the greenhouse.

You would leave the palace the night before your wedding by hiding from the watchful eye of the guards and take the carriage to the estate of Lady Alisa. Or at least that was the plan you made in haste.

You spent a week as a mere guest before your engagement was announced in a feast given in your honor on the seventh day, followed by a ball in which everyone who was anyone attended. That is when you were formally presented to Oikawa where you walked hand in hand to the floor where you had the first dance of the night.

“I remember you telling me that you would never marry me.” You whispered in his ear when you were sure no one else could hear “How sure you were of yourself.”

“The night is still young dear.” He replied, “Anything could happen.”

His answer sent a shiver down your spine, fearing he might have figured your scheme. But how could he when you never told anyone.

You were right about the reaction of others of course. Some ladies were left in tears when they were supposed to smile and clap right after the announcement. One even swooned! Although it was entertaining to watch you thought, tomorrow they could rejoice.

You were quite lucky to be given a room on third floor, not too high from the ground, and what is more right above the road that led to the stables. You waited until what you thought was a time that all the guests and the royal family went to bed to start your mischief.

You refused the maids that wanted to help you change out of your dress to your nightgown, saying you wanted to be left alone, after all when you appeared on Lady Alisa’s doorstep you had to look presentable.

Tying the linens around your bed together, once the palace engulfed in silence, you swung them over the open window in a desperate attempt. It was the only way to leave your room without the guards that were situated behind your door noticing.

Just when you wobbled your way down to the second floor, your arms shaking from carrying your weight, you were startled from a noise coming above you where others resided. It did not take long before a lengthy rope was tossed to the garden below. Shocked to silence over the possibility of being caught by palace guards you seized your movements.

Nothing, however, could prepare you for the eyes you caught as the person responsible for your concern made his way down to your level. He looked as terrified as you were when you came face to face, momentarily losing his balance before quickly gaining his posture by placing his feet on the walls, his hands gripping your sheets.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” he hissed.

Apparently not only did Oikawa have similar feelings towards his soon to be wife as you did to him, but he also had the same idea on how to escape his current position, as he was trying to leave the castle in his nightgown by dangling himself out the windows of the tower to reach the stables.

Even though you wanted to answer him with a question of your own you could feel the strength leaving your body.

He must have seen your torment however as he started climbing down quickly.

“Try to come down slowly, I will catch you at the end.” He whispered as you tried to balance yourself over the wall.

“Bend your knees and let go.” He said once you were close enough “Do it now Princess.”

Silenced into submission over his kind voice you let go of the sheets only to be caught by strong arms followed by a grunting sound.

You took a deep breath when your feet touched the ground. Your newfound relief did not last long however as Oikawa caught your wrist in a bear like grip and turned your body around to face his.

“Now tell me you insufferable woman what do you think you are doing?” he spat lifting both your hands over your head, practically pinning you to the palace walls.

“What were you doing you bear of a man?” you gritted your teeth “Let me go you are hurting me!”

He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted as both of your heads snapped right, towards the sound of a loud gasp that came just next to you, his hands quickly letting you go.

And there stood a group of twenty to thirty guests that were in attendance that day laughing and jeering while coming down the gardens, most probably from a walk to sober up.

“Love birds couldn’t wait till tomorrow evening!” a man yelled behind the group making you and Oikawa jump away from each other “To be young and in love!”

And that is how to both your horror, your entire plan crumbled to the pieces and the rumor that the naïve foreign Princess and the insatiable rake Prince Tooru were a love match started in a single night.

Reblogs are appreciated! English is not my first language so if you see any mistakes let me know.

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Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

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[blossom-hwa]

valentine’s day + golcha ✧

blame @wingkkun​ for enabling me :) as well as @thepixelelf​ for putting up the list of valentine’s day prompts on her network @newskynet​ (check out the list and the network here!) that inspired these little blurbs! i really encourage anyone to join in on the event and use the prompts, they’re super cute and hella funny :) 

anyway happy early valentine’s day! there’ll be more blurbs for the boyz and stray kids leading up to the day of, and changmin’s interwoven story will top the holiday off <3

(find other valentine’s day blurbs for the boyz and stray kids here whenever i put up the masterlist!)

pairing: golcha x gender neutral!reader (one blurb for each member!)

wc: 4.9k (total)

genre: fluff, pure fluff, university!au

triggers: cursing, like one slightly implied mention of sex (it’s the first couple sentences of sungyoon’s story, but absolutely nothing explicit)

stray kids version | the boyz version

Golden Child Masterlist

9. “i’m allergic to roses.”

jaehyun doesn’t know why his boss decided to give him the valentine’s day shift. it’s annoying and stupid and dumb, especially when he just wants to spend the entire day with you, but you have class and he has work. so jaehyun resigns himself to being forced to work in the pits of hell on the supposed day of love (it’s a drugstore on valentine’s day. he’s pretty sure he won’t even be able to count the number of boyfriends and girlfriends who’ve forgotten to buy their partner a gift and have come to this shitty CVS for a last minute card or box of chocolates). 

slumped over on the counter after opening, waiting for the first wave of poor significant others to come washing in, jaehyun doesn’t even bother to move when the automatic doors slide open and a few pairs of footsteps sound on the floor. only when someone steps in front of him does he actually look up, immediately plastering on his customer service smile (that you’ve always found simultaneously hilarious and scary - “you look so dead inside, i don’t know what to say!” “i’m not dead inside!” “jaehyun, you’re in university. we’re all dead inside”), but it immediately drops when you step up to the counter and pass over a bouquet of tulips (not roses this time, thank god - jaehyun doesn’t need a repeat of the time you brought them and he had to break it to you between sneezes that “i’m allergic to roses.”), laughing at the expression of shock on his face. 

“wanted to bring you something nice in the morning since we won’t see each other until later,” you explain, pushing the bouquet into his hands. “i’ll meet you in front of your dorm, right? don’t be late.” 

holding the flowers, jaehyun doesn’t know what to do but nod and smile, smile so brightly it feels like the sun has come down to rest in his heart because by god, you’re the sweetest thing in this entire world and he loves you so, so much. “okay,” he breathes, unable to stop his eyes from crinkling as he smiles. “i’ll see you then.”

you lean over the counter and press a brief kiss on his lips. the bouquet nearly falls to the ground as he scrambles to lean in, to extend this bit of affection as long as he can, but then someone coughs and you two break away, jaehyun red-faced and blushing, you laughing as both of you turn to the customer holding two bags of lollipops with a smirk and a raised eyebrow on their face. jaehyun only blushes harder as you squeeze his hand one last time, supremely unconcerned, and murmur “see you later” before walking back out the door. 

14. “you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

exactly one week ago, jangjun’s professor gave the entire lecture hall a stern talking-to regarding valentine’s day activities in class. no kissing, no inappropriate PDA, and “no giving out candy or confessions unless you’ve brought enough for the entire hall.” and given the fact that this is a lecture hall of just under a hundred students, no one is eager to break that rule. 

but on valentine’s day, you come running in just two minutes before class starts, a large shopping bag banging against your legs as you sprint to your seat next to jangjun. he frowns at the bag, looking up at you in confusion, but you only give him a shit-eating grin as the professor walks to the podium. just as he’s about to start the slides, you raise your hand. “professor, i have candy to pass out.”

a whisper runs through the hall as jangjun starts to laugh. you really would. you actually would. y/n, you perfect bastard. professor just raises an eyebrow that jangjun can see all the way from his seat halfway across the hall and replies “do you have enough for the entire class?”

“as a matter of fact, i do!” reaching into the bag, you pull out two packages of lollipops and brandish them in the air. “all in the spirit of valentine’s day, professor!”

the hall devolves into chaos and laughter and shouts as you run down the rows, throwing candy at every student. jangjun’s laughing with everyone else - even the professor can’t help a smile as you hand him a lollipop too - but then he realizes you’ve completely bypassed his row. no matter, though, right? you’ll probably just come back and give him one when you come back to your seat, or he’ll steal a lollipop away from you. that’s how best friends work, obviously.

but then you’re running down the stairs, finished passing out candy for the rest of the hall. jangjun expects you to slide into your seat but you don’t, instead stopping at the end of the row and tossing him his favorite flavor of lollipop. he grins, about to say something, but your smile has turned slightly nervous and he’s confused - you’re never nervous, never, you didn’t even look like this before you had your first job interview - but then your gaze takes on a steely  determination that’s more characteristic of his favorite friend ever and you say, “wanna go on a date with me?”

screams erupt from the seats around him, but jangjun can only stare as he tries to comprehend what you said. his mouth moves to form words and they are not the words he wants but he never thinks before he speaks and certainly not now when his brain is literally fraying at the edges - 

“you’re seriously asking me out on valentine’s day?”

your gaze shutters, your eyes turning dim. the smile on your face is still there but it’s a little forced and jangjun starts panicking because what the fuck, that’s not what he meant, and - “oh my god, y/n, i’m an idiot, i didn’t mean to say that, yes i want to go out with you, holy fuck i’ve wanted to literally since we met -”

“jangjun? shut up.”

he shuts up, terrified he’s messed up forever. but you’re smiling. you’re smiling so wide it looks like the stars themselves have come down to grace your eyes as you sit down next to him and tangle your fingers with his.

there are more screams and someone’s camera flashes but jangjun doesn’t care. he doesn’t fucking care, not when you’ve just asked him out when he’s been pining for you for probably years at this point and jangjun knows he’s grinning like an idiot when he squeezes your hand once, softly, and you squeeze back, winking as you pop a last lollipop into your mouth.

13. “you’re so cheesy. i love it.” (slightly amended from “this is so cheesy. i love it.”)

daeyeol may be dyslexic, but he certainly isn’t blind. as the ta for this lecture section, he’s had a front row seat to the obvious pining tension between jangjun and his best friend since they stepped into class on the first day. when they hand daeyeol a lollipop, he can see jangjun smiling like an absolute idiot even so far away, and when oblivious idiot #1 finally pulls themselves together and asks jangjun on a date, the professor himself can’t help but grin even as he starts clapping his hands to bring the class to order.

as the lecture goes on, daeyeol lets his thoughts wander. he’s been over this particular set of slides so long he could probably talk about them in his sleep (and according to sungyoon, he actually has, though he has no video proof so daeyeol will just put that down to his roommate exaggerating), so he doesn’t feel too bad about not paying attention as the professor keeps talking. he has better things to think about - namely his plans for later today. 

yeah, he has a date. he has a date with, in his humble opinion, the most wonderful and beautiful person in the world. he can’t help but smile when the image of your eyes crinkled in a laugh runs through his mind, the sound of your giggles and snorts making his heart flutter with excitement because holy fuck, he may not want to be in class, but at least he’s going to get to see you for hours later today. 

if he wasn't the ta, he’d be the first one out of class. instead, though, he stays a couple minutes to talk to the professor (he smirks a little bit when jangjun and his best friend-turned-significant other walk out the door, still holding hands) before he finally deems it polite to say goodbye and rush out of the lecture hall to his dorm so he can get changed. 

he’s breathless when he walks out of the flower shop to meet you just an hour later, clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hands. despite the fact that you two have been dating for months already, he still turns shy when you accept the flowers, eyes sparkling in delight. your gaze only turns sweeter, lovelier when you look up from the bouquet to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around him tightly as your body presses against his. 

“i missed you,” he murmurs into your ear, holding you as close as he can. 

you laugh. “we saw each other yesterday, daeyeol.”

his name still sounds like honey from your lips. “yeah, but that was still too long.” 

again you laugh, pulling away. before he can complain, your hand slips into his, automatically tangling your fingers together. “you’re so cheesy,” you announce as though you haven’t said the same thing a million times over the course of the last few months. “i love it. anyway, should we go?”

daeyeol smiles, squeezing your hand. “of course. come on.”

4. “valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.” / “what’s that in your hands?” / “none of your business.”

jibeom isn’t anti-valentine’s day, not exactly. it’s just that he doesn’t entirely care for the way capitalism has decided to commercialize love through chocolates and teddy bears when a handwritten card would mean more to him than the most expensive candies in the world. 

which is why he teases daeyeol when the older boy comes into the flower shop where he works part time, even as he wraps up the bouquet of pink and red roses. “still a slave to capitalism, i see.”

daeyeol just snorts. “you think i didn’t see the flower crown you were making when i walked in?”

“yeah, well, i made it. i didn’t buy it.” jibeom ties the last ribbon in a large bow. “i’m not going to be a slave to the machinery of this shitty economic system. valentine’s day is just a ploy to make people buy heart-shaped stuff.”

“what’s that in your hands?”

jibeom shoves a heart-shaped box of chocolate under the counter. “none of your business.”

"yeah, right.” daeyeol snorts, taking the bouquet of flowers. “well, enjoy your date later. hope y/n likes the chocolates.”

jibeom sniffs. “you enjoy yours.” 

with that, daeyeol walks out to meet his partner. jibeom averts his eyes (it’s so weird seeing someone he thinks of as his older brother kissing or hugging something else, even if it’s sweet), but then the door opens again and a wide smile spreads across jibeom’s face when you walk into the shop. 

“your shift is over,” you announce, hopping on a nearby stool so you can lean your elbows on the counter. “time to go!”

“y/n, for the last time, i can’t just end my shift when i want to,” jibeom says. he’s still smiling, though - he knows you don’t mean it, knows that you’ll just hang around and bother him until his shift is actually over and the two of you can go to whatever reservation you made this year. 

you groan. “come on, that’s no fun.”

jibeom snorts. “here, maybe this will keep you busy.” he hands you the chocolate he bought early that morning from a dead-eyed jaehyun (thank god for the flowers his partner brought him at the start of his shift or he probably would’ve keeled over at that point). “happy valentine’s day.”

with a delighted screech, you tear into the box. jibeom watches in amusement. “i thought you didn’t like participating in the valentine’s day capitalist commercialization of love?” you ask, mouth full. 

“i don’t.” jibeom shrugs. “but if it’s for you...”

he doesn’t get to finish before you yank him down by the neck of his shirt to press a full kiss to his lips. “jibeom, i love you more than you can imagine,” you declare when you finally pull away. 

you look beautiful, lips slightly swollen, eyes sparkling. jibeom lifts the finished flower crown from behind the counter and puts it on your head. “there. perfect.”

“hm?” you look up, smiling when you realize what he’s given you. 

“you looked beautiful before,” jibeom explains. “but now you look even more perfect.”

“are you saying that because of your flower crown, i look nicer?” you frown in mock disapproval. “jibeom, that’s awfully egocentric.”

“well, am i wrong?”

your frown splits into a wide grin as you shake your head. “no, not at all.” you squeeze his hand. “anything from you makes me feel beautiful, no matter what it is.”

21. “for me?”

“don’t mind them, jibeom and his partner won’t suck face too much.” the worker rolls his eyes as he walks forward, leading joochan further into the store. “you said roses, right? red roses?”

“yeah.” joochan takes a deep breath, trying to stop himself from screaming internally. “red roses.”

but even as the worker - seungmin, his name tag says - leads him to a selection of deep red flowers, joochan’s starting to second guess himself. what if flowers come off too strong, roses no less? it’s only the first date - and by god, he’s lucky you even accepted, you’re the wittiest and most amazing person he’s ever come across, he never imagined you would actually say yes - and joochan has no idea what to do, how to act, least of all with flowers. 

dimly, joochan becomes aware of seungmin deftly tying the roses together before handing him the bouquet. “come up to the front, you’ll pay there.” he snorts. “hopefully jibeom and his partner aren’t being idiots.”

“i heard that!” comes an indignant shout from the front. despite his nerves, even joochan cracks a smile when seungmin forcefully elbows jibeom out from behind the counter, forcing his partner to stop him from falling over. “yeah you heard that, you think i would’ve said it if i didn’t want you to hear?” seungmin snaps, fingers flying on the register. “that’ll be -”

“joochan?!”

what.

what the fuck. 

joochan spins on his heel to see you standing not three feet away from him, a bouquet of flowers clasped in your own hands as someone else rings up your purchase. for a moment, you two only stare at each other. 

god, joochan wants to melt into the floor. 

“i -” you swallow. “sorry. hi, joochan.”

“hi,” he squeaks, fingers clutching roses in a vice grip. “uh... didn’t expect to see you here?”

“i wanted to get flowers for you,” you mumble, staring resolutely at the ground.

joochan’s brain makes the windows shutting down noise. “for - for me?”

“yeah.” you half-smile, laughing a little as you point at your bouquet. joochan wants to immortalize the sound of your laugh forever in his ears. “wait - here.”

suddenly, joochan has two bunches of roses in his hands and he doesn’t know what to do with either of them. your fingers brush his skin as you hand over the flowers. joochan can feel himself getting redder by the second as he finally figures out that he should also hand over his bouquet to you. 

seungmin’s voice stops him. “you still need to pay,” he says, eyes screwed almost shut with suppressed laughter. 

“oh - right. sorry.” joochan hands his card over, face flaming. seungmin swipes it, gives it back, and joochan finally passes his roses to you. 

for another two seconds, you two just stare, but then you smile (and joochan subsequently feels like his brain is leaking out of his ears, you’re too amazing to look at). “shall we?”

you’ve extended a hand. joochan looks at it dumbly, uncomprehending, but then he realizes you’re asking to hold his hand. gingerly he nods, pressing his palm into yours as an involuntary smile splits his face. “okay,” he breathes. “let’s go.”

25. “i love you.”

“that was... something.” you turn to seungmin, second-hand embarrassment written all over your face. understandable. even if seungmin found it funny, the awkward romantic tension in the air before joochan and his partner left was enough to make his insides curdle. of course, being a perfect worker, he didn’t show it, but...

“were we ever like that?” seungmin wonders aloud, tightening his apron.

jibeom snorts from where he’s taking off his own apron, finished with his shift. lucky bastard. “no, but you’re worse.” he pulls off the green smock, hanging it on a nail in the back. “you’ve been in love since you were like, five. disgustingly mushy.”

“you two suck face in the back whenever you have a spare moment,” you snap, throwing a small handful of discarded leaves at them. 

jibeom’s partner shrugs. “better than being overly romantic and making everyone want to puke on how adorable you two are.” they wave as jibeom drags them out of the shop and down the street. 

you sigh. “sucks that we got the full shift,” you mumble, slumping over the counter. “wish we were doing something better.”

“hey, we get to avoid the crowds tomorrow when we go for our late valentine’s day dinner.” seungmin sits next to you, pulling a bit of leaf out of your hair. “isn’t that better?”

“yeah.” you sit up, leaning against your elbow to smile at him. even after so many years together, the sparkle in your eyes still makes seungmin’s heart flutter. “kinda works out. i just don’t want to work.”

“lazy,” seungmin teases, kissing you briefly. 

despite the insult, you smile against his lips before pulling away. “asshole.”

“hey,” he whines. “an asshole wouldn’t do this, would they?” he picks up a discarded rose - still perfect, really, the stem just got snapped a little too short for a bouquet - and tucks it behind your ear. “would they?”

you laugh. “no, of course not.” you rise from your seat and glance from side to side. when nobody enters the shop, you wrap your arms around his neck. seungmin’s hands automatically loop your waist as you kiss him long, full, deep. 

“i love you,” you murmur against his lips. “i love you every day, regardless of whether or not it’s valentine’s day.”

“same here.” seungmin raises a hand, cups your cheek. you lean into his touch. “i love you too, y/n.”

3. “what, no roses?”

when sungyoon walks into the flower shop, a tray of coffee in hand, to see two of his friends locking lips just behind the counter, he only sighs. at least they aren’t trying to eat each other’s faces like some other couples he saw in the cafe today. and not much could be worse than that one time daeyeol forgot to hang a sock on the door before sungyoon got back home. 

seungmin and his partner of well over five years (they’re cute. disgustingly cute and so in love it makes sungyoon want to retch sometimes) break apart, thankfully, when he puts two cups of coffee on the counter. “enjoy,” he deadpans to a nonplussed seungmin and his equally unbothered partner. 

"oh, thanks.” seungmin takes one, draining half of it in one go. “oh my god, this is so good.”

“of course, it is, sungyoon made it.”

sungyoon nearly jumps. how is it that you always manage to sneak up on him? he can’t figure it out. but even though his heart is pounding, he turns around with a smile on his face to catch you when launch yourself into his arms for a hug. “hey, sungyoon,” you murmur into his skin.

“hey, yourself.” he smiles, pulling away to take you in. “you look beautiful.” as always. 

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you tease, pulling a bouquet of flowers from behind your back, smiling widely. “for you.”

sungyoon smiles, taking the delicate stems between his hands. “what, no roses?”

“nope,” you reply, popping the p. “our shop ran out. and i’m not about to buy from my competitors.”

a scoff sounds as sungyoon laughs. you narrow your eyes at seungmin and his partner, who are both replying to your gaze with mock glares of their own. it actually used to be a real point of contention, the fact that sungyoon had started dating a worker at the rival florist a few streets away, but now it’s all fun and games.

tulips and carnations, pink and red, fragrant and delicate. sungyoon breathes in their scent before turning back to the counter to hand you one of the last two cups of coffee in the tray. “your favorite.”

“thanks.” you take a long sip before leaning in to kiss him with coffee-tasting lips. “ready to go?”

“absolutely.” he takes your hand, squeezing your palm gently. “come on. we’ve got a long evening planned, don’t we?”

11. “it’s so cold! why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?!”

bomin collapses on the floor as the music turns off for the last time that evening. “oh my god,” he gasps, staring at the ceiling. “y/n, i literally hate you.”

“not my fault you aren’t flexible enough,” you snip, effortlessly folding your legs as you sit down next to his prone figure. “now get up. i got you coffee from that place you like.”

in a flash, he’s sitting, making grabby hands for the cup between your fingers. “did sungyoon make it?” 

“yes.” you roll your eyes but hand him the coffee anyway, smiling. “sometimes i think you love him more than me, you know?”

“impossible.” bomin pouts at you over the cup. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know, i’m just teasing.” you stand, reach out a hand, and pull him up. “gross, you’re all sweaty.”

“i just danced for an entire hour and on our anniversary no less, valentine’s day, the most romantic day of the year -”

“yeah, yeah.” you nudge him with your shoulder as you two leave the studio. “you’re the one who told me to make sure you do your stretching exercises every day, right? valentine’s day is no exception. we did so much earlier in the day, too - you can’t say we didn’t have fun.” a smirk rises on your lips and you nudge him again. “besides, whose fault is it that our anniversary is on the cheesiest day of the year?”

bomin groans as the two of you walk out into cold air. “listen, daeyeol and everyone else was giving me extremely bad advice and i couldn’t wait and i just wanted it to be romantic, okay -”

“i know.” you pause in your step, reach up, and press a soft kiss on his lips. “i know, bomin. you’ve told me this before.”

“then don’t tease me,” he grumbles, dodging donghyun and youngtaek as they run, screaming about cold, into the dance studios where it’s warmer. “it’s so cold,” he continues grumbling, burrowing his head into his coat. “why can’t valentine’s day be in summer?”

a laugh sparkles from your lips, and against his grumpy will, bomin finds the corners of his mouth lifting at the sound. “can’t exactly control when a saint dies,” you reply, linking your arm with his. “and isn’t it kind of sweet? holding hands to keep each other warm?”

bomin sighs, allowing the smile to full spread across his face. “i guess,” he concedes, unlinking your arms so he can hold your hand in his. “still doesn’t mean i don’t want to get back to the dorms and cuddle you right now.”

“well, the faster you go, the faster we get back!” you fling his hand away, sprinting forward onto the path. “last one back is the bigger idiot!”

“hey!” bomin complains, trying to follow behind on legs still shaky from exercise. “hey, slow down!”

“hell no!” you yell. “running fast will get you warm!”

(bomin does catch up to you in the end, grabbing your hand just outside the dorm and spinning you around to press a laughing kiss against your lips. he’s warm, now, warm from the exercise, but he feels far warmer from the feeling of your arms wrapped around him.)

5. “30 roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

at first, donghyun doesn’t notice when you appear in the dance studio. you come in quietly, the noise of the door opening and closing overpowered by the music blasting from the speaker in the corner. he’s too focused on youngtaek and his partner, making sure every one of their movements is perfectly in sync. 

when the music fades, clapping sounds and donghyun turns to see you standing just inside the studio, smiling behind a large bouquet of roses. he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he bounds up to you and crushes you in a sweaty hug. “hi.”

“hello to you too, sweaty.” you push him away playfully. “don’t crush the roses!”

donghyun pouts but obediently wipes his face off on a towel youngtaek hands him. “you value the roses over me,” he whines. 

“not so.” you laugh. “i value the roses because they’re for you, and when i actually hand them over, i want them to still look nice.”

donghyun melts into the wooden studio floor. he really does. youngtaek takes advantage of his whipped™ moment and shoves him out the door with his belongings, leaving you to follow behind as fast as possible before you’re trapped in the studio. 

once outside, you take donghyun’s (now dry) hand. “flowers for donghyun,” you announce, pressing the bouquet into his other palm. “thirty roses, one for every cat you’re gonna have when you’re old and alone.”

“old and alone?” donghyun stops in his tracks. “what about you?”

“oh shit.” you laugh. “i didn’t think about that. i’ll be there with you, of course. just us and our thirty cats. unless you get tired of me before then.”

you say it with a joking tone, but donghyun still pouts at your words. “i’m not going to get tired of you,” he says, squeezing your hand tighter. “never, y/n.”

a small, shy smile spreads across your lips and donghyun revels in the feeling of making you feel flustered on this lovely day. “all right, donghyun.” the smile grows wider. “i could never get tired of you either.”

he kisses your cheek, kisses the corner of your lips. you start whining for him to give you a real kiss and he laughs, dancing out of the way. “only if you promise not to say stuff like that anymore,” he bargains, dodging your lips. “promise!”

“i promise!” you trap him between your arms, leaning in close as your eyes sparkle. “i promise, donghyun.”

“okay,” he breathes, pulling you closer. “okay.”

against your lips, he smiles. 

2. “happy valentine’s day.”

music blasts in the background as you and youngtaek begin cleaning up your studio. even though you both are exhausted from hours of dancing, the music seems to work its way into your veins again as you pick up the last few things from the floor. twirling once or twice in time to the beat, you put them back in your bag before spinning, arms held out wide.

youngtaek catches you, pulling your hand as it flies out and dipping you down. his eyes crinkle as he smiles, face just inches away from yours. he braves the small chasm to kiss you briefly before holding you closer, losing himself in the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. 

for a few blissful moments, you only stare, smiling into each other’s eyes. the pounding music fades, soon replaced with a slow, soft song. 

youngtaek breaks your silence. “hey, dance with me?”

you laugh. “we’ve been dancing for hours, youngtaek. you’re not tired already?”

he kisses you again. “never tired if i’m with you.”

with that, you twirl him around, giggling as he spins dramatically before wrapping his arms around your waist once more. you put your hands on his shoulders and sway slowly, gently, peacefully, as the music rolls around you in waves. 

youngtaek likes it like this, likes it peaceful and quiet and calm. for others, valentine’s day might be about big displays of love, over the top shows of romance, but even though those are nice every once in a while, it’s possible to show so much love in a soft look, a gentle touch, in the feeling of his head resting against your shoulder as you sway gently to the music. 

he doesn’t need roses, doesn’t need chocolates or jewelry to know that you love him and he loves you. he’ll treasure the handmade card you gave him this morning, just as you’ll listen to the song he composed you for weeks, months, and hopefully years. head tucked into your neck, he presses a soft kiss to the skin, smiling at the way you shiver slightly against him. 

“tired?” you murmur, running a hand through his hair. 

youngtaek’s eyes close in bliss. “not yet.” it’s not quite a lie, he still has strength in his legs, but he wants to stay in your embrace just a little longer. just a little.

“if you say so.” your fingers continue carding through his hair. “we can go whenever you want.”

“okay.” youngtaek’s smile widens. “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too, youngtaek.” you pull away slightly, kiss his forehead. “happy valentine’s day.”

[crimsonrae]

Oh, I am excited then! May I please request a Captain Syverson or Clark Kent/Femme! Reader oneshot where it's the reader's birthday, but she doesn't tell Sy/Clark because she doesn't celebrate/forgets and they find out and do something for her? Maybe a surprise dinner or something? Thank you so much, darling!!

Hey Nonnie,

As requested a birthday fic with Mr. Kent. Fluff fic - I hope you like it.

Clark KentxReader

Falling, Flying

Happy Birthday!

You sighed wearily as you eyed the balloon decorated card from the florist. A beautifully arranged bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums rested on your desk. Admittedly, the amber and wine tones were striking and brought a brightness to your office that was usually lacking, but it was also like having a bright neon sign to remind you of a day that you usually wanted to ignore.

This was the problem with having with life-long friends... they liked to torture you.

You chucked the card into your trash and moved the flowers to the window. You’d text Maria later to call her an asshole and thank her for the little gift.  

“Hey, nice flowers.”

Your butt had barely touched your desk chair. Biting back another sigh, you glanced up to see Lombard loitering in your doorway, “Thanks... Did you have that election article for me?”

“Y/N, it’s all work and no play with you.” Lombard complained loftily as he leaned against the threshold.

You shook your head, ignoring him as you logged into your computer. Your fingers clacked hard at the keyboard when he didn’t disappear nor answer your question. He stood like a creepy grotesque and it only took another minute of stunted silence before you broke.

“Lombard, what do you want?” He grinned victoriously while you threw a mocking scowl at him, “Article?”

He sauntered forward and dropped into the chair before your desk, “So, what are the flowers for? Did Smallville screw up? Apology flowers? Or an anniversary? Don’t let Lois see if it’s the second, cuzzz I don’t think it’s been quite a year since they’ve broken up.”

You rolled your eyes and grumbled under your breath about reporters. Never mind that you used to work as one, editing was more in your comfort zone anyway. You and Clark had only managed to date for two weeks before the office found out.  

Bloodhounds – every single one of them.  

Including your boy.

“You should work for a gossip rag, Steve. You’d really shine there.” You stated dryly, focusing back on the screen as a few new articles showed in your inbox. It was going to be a busy day of fact-checking and proofreading.

“Oh, don’t be mean. I’m just taking a healthy interest in my colleague’s life.” A smugly amused smirk crossed his lips before a pen came flying at his face, “Hey!”

Unapologetic, you pointed at the door “Get out of my office and get your article done.”  

He moved to protest or retort, you weren’t sure, as a new voice interrupted.

“Harassing my girl again, Lombard.”

A feeling of déjà vu fell over you as you and Lombard looked to your door to see Clark leaning in the threshold. You smiled faintly at him becoming amused as Lombard actually shifted to stand. As nice as Clark was, Lombard was well aware that his arms were the size of his head. He felt it better for his ego if he never stood to close to the other reporter...or pissed him off.

And yet...

“Nice choice of flowers, Smallville. So, what did you do?” The smaller man queried jovially.

You threw another pen at him as Clark zeroed in on your present and frowned. He tilted his head curiously and came over to have a better look, allowing Lombard a direct escape if he wanted, “Those aren’t from me.”

You could practically feel a whole new level of intrigue pour from Lombard at Clark’s words. You sent the nosy reported a pointed glare and lifted a pen threateningly. He finally took the hint and left as you spun your chair to face your boyfriend.

You couldn’t stop a cheeky smile as he arched a brow at you, “Yeah...I’ve been meaning to tell you – I've been seeing other guys. You’re gonna need to step up your game, farm boy.”

Clark snorted and slanted a mockingly stern gaze at you through his glasses. You still couldn’t decide if you liked him better with or without the frames, but the meandering thought flew from your head as he nudged your legs apart with his knee and leaned into you. You spared a quick glance towards your open door before meeting him halfway for a kiss.

A soft warmth enveloped you as he nipped your lip and gently coaxed your mouth to open. He stole your breath as he delved deeper and you tasted each other thoroughly. Somehow, you always forgot how good a kisser he was.... it was almost unfair. Especially when he pulled away with that knowing glint in his eye that made you want to smack him and climb him like a tree all at once.  

He smirked, “Somehow, I’m not worried.”

“You don’t play fair.” You grumbled though an affectionate smile pulled at the edges of your lips.

“Says the woman who’s receiving flowers from someone other than her boyfriend.” Clark drawled pointedly as he leaned against your desk.

Unwillingly, you glance at your flowery neon sign. You had no desire to share the real reason for the bouquet. Your birthday had never been a particularly good day for you and the only good ones that you had celebrated had been when you were alone.  

A cup of tea and a good book to read as you let the day pass you by and ignored the fact that you were another year older... that was your perfection.

You sighed and shrugged, “They’re from Maria, so no need to be jealous.”

His brow furrowed. He had only met Maria a few times and was still trying to wrap his head around the friendship you two shared. Insults, practical jokes, and a fair bit of clothes thievery made up the majority of your relationship.

“You guys aren’t in a prank war again, are you?” Clark asked leerily.

He had been the unintended victim of a couple of your pranks the last month and you couldn’t help, but smirk at the memory.  

You shook your head, a lie spilling from your lips before you could stop it, “No. I think I need to check my closet for those new Jimmy Choo's I bought. They’re probably gone now.”

Clark rolled his eyes, “I really don’t understand you two.”

“You don’t need to.” You replied calmly but made the mental note to check your closet anyway. You never knew with Maria.  

“Y/N! Stop canoodling your boyfriend! You’ve got papers on the printer.”

A low groan left your lips as a faint heat filled your cheeks at Lombard’s voice, but you moved to get up anyway. You had no desire to have him hover in your office again.  

Clark moved to follow before a colorful glint caught his eye. A quick check showed him that you were already out of the office as he reached down to pull the florist’s card from the trash. A deep frown marred his features as he took in the festive balloons and quickly scrawled birthday wish.

Why wouldn’t you tell him it was your birthday?

He quickly nabbed Maria’s number from your phone and disappeared from your office.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

Your eyes had begun to sting as you stared at your computer screen. A small headache forming at the base of your neck, as you continued to work. You hadn’t been wrong when you assessed that today was going to be busy.

Five more articles had appeared on your desk before lunch and about a dozen phone calls placed and taken before and after that – notes were scribbled into margins and glaring errors corrected. So far, you had only been able to toss back a couple pieces and it was well after six already. Tiredly, you rubbed at the bridge of your nose, more than ready to go home and collapse into bed...but there was still so much you needed to do.

“Hey, you about ready to go?”  

You started at the sound of Clark’s voice, nearly sending your keyboard skittering to the floor, “Christ! I swear you need a damn bell.”

He chuckled lowly, watching as you clutched at your chest and glared mildly at him. He came to stand next to your desk, noting that you hadn’t even begun to shut down for the night while his shoulder bag was already tucked under his arm, ready to call it quits, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Grab your stuff, I’m taking you to dinner.”

A rueful smile quirked at your lips as you wave him off, “Raincheck, babe. I need to get this done or Perry’s gonna have a fit.”

He frowned glancing over the mess of papers on your desk. He hadn’t planned for you to still be working and almost wondered if you had taken on extra articles on purpose, “How much more do you have to do?”

“Don’t know. Maybe another hour – two tops.” You shrugged and smiled softly at him, “You’re free to roam the skies, Captain.

Clark raised an incredulous brow. Not because you had alluded to his alter-ego, you had known for a few months now and had slowly been coming to terms with the fact that your boyfriend was a superhero. It was a road that had not been easily traveled by any means. No, his disbelief came from now being certain that you had taken on extra articles.  

You didn’t often seek solitude, but when you did it was by diving into your work... he had learned that particular quirk relatively quickly and almost painfully. But not tonight – tonight you and he had plans and he wasn’t about to let you break them.

He reached over your shoulder and hit a couple buttons on your keyboard to send your computer into hibernation. You stared in shock at his gall, “Clark!”

He was already grabbing your coat, “Dinner, let’s go.”

Your gaze swiveled from the computer to him, your headache becoming full-blown as your expression creased into annoyance, “I told you, I have work. I’m sorry if that ruins your plans, but we’ll just -”

“You didn’t have lunch.” He cut you off and crossed his arms with a mild glare of his own, “You’ve been mainlining coffee like there’s about to be a tariff placed on it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that all you ate today was a bagel from Guillermo’s. And I know for a fact that no one has a deadline that needs to be met today or tomorrow. Dinner. Now. Don’t think I won’t drag you out of here.”

You glare at each other in a silent standoff. It wasn’t until he stepped toward you that you gave in with a heavy scowl, “What are you? My mother?”  

“A concerned boyfriend.” He retorted as he held out your coat.

You accepted it grudgingly and grabbed your purse before stepping out of the office. Clark followed behind you, not wanting to give you a chance to close the door on him. You had done it before.  

He watched you from the corner of his cerulean eyes. Your annoyance didn’t last long, but a deep weariness seemed to fall over you as the two of you left the Planet. He slid a warm comforting hand across the small of your back to grip lightly at your hip. Relief flowing through him as you leaned into his side. You weren’t too annoyed with him, then.

You made it down an entire block before you realized you didn’t know where you were heading. Both of your apartments were in the other direction and any decent restaurant required calling for a cab to get to...

You blinked in confusion, “Clark...where?”

He smiled wondering when you would ask. Glancing around discreetly, he pulled you into an alley and firmly against his body. Your brow rose, a questioned poised on the tip of your tongue that turned into a startled scream as you suddenly found yourself in the air.

Your arms wrapped around his neck like a lock as you buried your face into his shoulder. Muffled curses and small whimpers spilled from your throat as the two of you flew. Even when he slowed, now safely away from prying eyes and telescopes, you refused to look up.  

“You can relax. I won’t drop you.” He murmured into your ear, feeling mildly guilty for scaring you. He could feel you trembling and knew it wasn’t from the cold air.

A muffled curse was his only response as you gripped tighter. You did not like this.

Luckily, you were soon on the ground again, though it took you a few minutes to remember how to unlock your frozen limbs. Your heart pounded in your chest as you swallowed against a noxious turn of your stomach. You couldn’t stop shaking...

Clark rubbed soothingly at your arms as you tried to find some semblance of control over your body. Your eyes slowly opened into a dark glare, your hand already moving to smack him in the chest. It was infuriating to know that it wouldn’t hurt him, “Don’t ever do that again, you jackass.”  

His eyes widen in a way that reminded you of a scolded puppy, but you refused to bend and stumbled back a step. You turned intending to see where exactly he had dropped you and figure out how to get home but froze at the sight you found.

Twinkle lights shimmered in the burgeoning night sky as they danced about the branches of an old willow tree. A small wooden table set for two was guarded by the fluttering leaves while being showcased by the light. It was startlingly quaint and romantic all in one.

Martha smiled as she placed a covered dish in the center of the table and waved at the two of you. You were on the farm...  

“Happy Birthday,” Clark murmured behind you.

Your mouth moved silently before you turned confused eyes on him, “...How?”

“I saw the card in your trash can. Called Maria... then I called mom.” Clark explained casually as if he were talking about the weather.

Stunned all you could do was blink, even as Martha came up to greet the two of you.  

She wrapped you in a quick hug, “Happy Birthday, dear.”

Then turned to place a kiss to her son’s cheek before shooing you towards the table, “Go, eat before it gets cold. I need to finish your cake.”

Cake. The word jolted you back to reality, “Oh Martha - you didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”

“Nonsense.” She called back, already halfway back to the house.  

Distracted, Clark slipped his hand into yours and gently tugged you towards the table. Smells of garlic and tomato and cheese wafted toward you and your mouth began to water. Sheer wonder filled you as Clark pulled your chair out for you and then moved to uncover the dish Martha had left. Steam rose into the air as he revealed a freshly baked lasagna. Salad and garlic bread next to it.

Your throat constricted as you took in the care that had gone into this... A home cook meal shouldn’t bring you to tears, but you felt the sting at the corners of your eyes.  

“Y/N?” Clark called quietly. Worried that he may have overstepped his bounds with this surprise.

Your heart felt too big for your chest as you met his gaze. It was with tremulous movements that you left your seat to place a grateful kiss to his lips, “Thank you...I didn’t...You didn’t need...”

You couldn’t find the words to express just how overwhelmed you were feeling as you fell back to your seat, but not letting go of his hand.

Clark watched you with a soft smile, “I think it's my right to spoil my girlfriend on her birthday, though it would help if I had known sooner.”  

A stray tear spilled down your cheek as you shook your head, knowing that you would have to explain your distaste for this day...but you also didn’t want to dwell on those thoughts, “I didn’t expect you to...Clark -”

He squeezed your hand as if he already knew, “Tell me later, I have more spoiling to do.”

You huffed a laugh and shyly smiled, “You know Clark Kent, you really know how to make a girl fall.”

He grinned widely, “And to think you hate flying.”

“You’re still not fully forgiven for that... but I think I’ll get over it.” You murmured, joy burning your veins as his expression turned relieved.

He pressed a kiss to your joined hands.

It was the first birthday you could say that you truly enjoyed. Over a plate of hot lasagna in the late summer night as crickets chirped and frogs sang and with a man... a man who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. That was the only present you ever needed.

  ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

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[mxpseudonym]

Just Good Business

Pairing: Tommy x Reader 

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, feminine clothing descriptions

Summary: You are forced to marry Tommy Shelby, but that doesn’t mean you have to make things easy for him. 

Length: 1671 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Mentions of forced marriage. Otherwise Bad bitch, chaotic energy and some justified (non violent) rage. 

A/N: This was very fun to write! 

Also there’s going to be a NSFW part II because the tension? The sheer sexual tension?? Yeah, it needs to happen. 

Part II

--

Being a bit impossible to pin down is what you're known for, and you liked that. It was your grandmother who taught you how to be difficult. 

When they try to smooth your edges, rip the sandpaper. 

You didn't have a natural place in polite society, your family knew this. But your father wasn't going to let you into the family business, either. So he took your brother, your imbecile of a brother, and let him lead instead. Two years later, you're sitting at a dinner table in a fancy restaurant with your parents, your brother who can't look you in the eye, and two gangsters from Birmingham. You could tell they were gangsters because they smelled like new money, and had guns under their blazers. One was an older woman Polly Shelby, and the other was her nephew, Thomas Shelby. 

You thought it was any other business meeting, but your brother was fidgeting the way he did when you were younger, and he stole your necklace and broke it but didn't want to tell you. He was hiding something big. Luckily for him and unluckily for you, it quickly became abundantly clear. 

"Let's get right to it, we'll settle the debt, put in an accountant who will manage to unfuck you, and take 45% of the resulting profit," Tommy Shelby laid the cards on the table. Your face contorted in confusion. What debt? 

"Alright, it's done," your father said, a quiver in his voice along with relief. 

"What? That's a terrible bargain," you scoffed. The way your mother turned away, her eyes tearing up, and your brother practically quivering beside you. You met the eyes of Polly Shelby, and something about them told you to brace yourself. 

"Is your daughter still upholding the marriage to our dear Thomas?" Polly asked. For a moment, you thought you blacked out. For a moment, you thought you'd forgotten you had a sister. For a moment, you assumed it wasn't the 1920's but the 17-fucking-40's where you may have come with some livestock as well. 

"So this is it, huh? This is why you let me go to Paris with my friends last week, Mum? And why Dad said he'd buy me a car? And why Graham won't stop fucking fidgeting?" You asked, looking to your brother who just grimaced at you. There was no out, and you knew it. 

"Don't make a scene, y/n," your father told you, tired already as if he'd put up some great fight. 

"Well? Are we on?" Polly got us back on track. "I'll need to hear it from her." You looked down at your handbag until you saw the emerald color and not a blinding red.

"You'll take 10% of the resulting profits," you finally said. If you were getting given away, it was going to be at least a good deal. 

"40," the deep, Brummie voice of Thomas Shelby came to the party. Your eyes flicked up to meet his icy blue ones. 

"12."

"35."

"15."

"33%, and you can go to Paris as much as you'd like," he said his final offer with a smirk. If you weren't so fueled by anger, you'd appreciate it.

"18%, I go to Paris as much as I want, and I won't make your life a living hell. Maybe I'll even kiss you goodbye in the morning, my love," you said in the most charming voice you could muster, which wasn't very. He'd never tell you that's when he knew he liked you, but he didn't have to. You landed on an even 25%. You could go to Paris, he'd get his morning goodbye kiss and some peace from time to time, and you'd get a car that was better than anything your father had planned. You shook on it yourself. 

"Welcome to the Shelby's," Polly said when she grasped your hand. You grabbed your bag and turned to Tommy.

"If the car's not a Hispano-Suiza, 2% of that profit comes directly to me," you warned him before walking away.

You should've fucking known that it would be at least partially an adventure. At first, you were mad. You allowed yourself to be easily swayed in the wedding planning, saying yes to the most frivolous things.

"500 bloody pounds for a dress you'll wear once?!" Tommy all but shouted and threw down the receipt on the desk of his office. You sat unnerved in the seat in front of him.

"Once, on the most important day of my life," you said, giving a brief pout and nothing else. Tommy rubbed his chin as he went to refill his glass of whiskey.

"Stubborn, reckless, outlandish even. Sure, you're all of those things. But spoiled? That's a surprise," he said, almost disappointed. You rolled your eyes at his little act. 

"Come off it, Shelby. I have very little in this world, least of all a family I can trust. Everything I do have is about to belong to you because I'm a woman with nothing but familial debt. So don't stand there and lecture me about the rights and wrongs of acting out, Thomas. You and my father only listen to money." You stood and were halfway to the door when Tommy blocked your way. 

"You've threatened to run away if you had to live with your parents, so we've put you in a grand apartment in London. You have your parties there with all your friends. You spend all the money you'd like and more. When will it end?" He asked. You wondered if he actually cared about the stability of your coping mechanisms, or about you. His hand came up to brush your waist. It was all you needed to come back to your senses.  You took a breath and looked up at him.

"Until I'm satisfied," You decided. 

Polly was something between annoyed and amused at you. You were loud, as subtle as a cannon, and possibly more stubborn than her nephew. There wasn't a week that went by where Tommy wasn't talking about something you'd done. 

"Tommy, have you tried going along with something she says?" Polly suggested one day when you'd called not finding a proper wedding venue an "emergency." Tommy leaned back in thought, then picked up the phone. Perhaps his aunt was right... like usual.

"If this is kidnap, it's very ironic," you said as you stumbled along the gravel. Your ridiculous fiancé had taken you to an undisclosed location. Now, the only thing guiding you was Tommy, whose hand was over your eyes. 

"It's not a kidnapping. On the contrary, I've come to take you home," Tommy said before his hand lifted. You blinked the blur away to see a large house. Well, let's call a spade a spade. It was a mansion if you'd ever seen one. 

"Holy hell," you breathed.

"This is Arrow House, Ms. y/l/n. It's got everything you could need and hopefully what you want. Here's a map." He pulled a thick piece of paper from his coat pocket. "Let me know if I've missed anything."

Crying wasn't in your repertoire. Even the events of the past few months hadn't done you in. But, you made an exception and allowed a few to leak while you looked around. You could feel your betrothed’s eyes watching you take it all in, but it didn't matter when the home was breathtaking. When you came back to the foyer, you couldn't help but tweak an eyebrow at Tommy. 

"Have you got a crush on me, Shelby?" You asked, or accused rather. He just chuckled and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door.

"Let's go see the stables."

The wedding was grander than was even sensible. Tommy didn't know how you forged the guest list or who most of these people were, but you told him if he helped you hang drapes, you'd explain your itemized list. Now that was a sight to see. You could only stand it for a bit and did what you usually did at parties. You found quiet place on a balcony overlooking the wedding reception turned memorable party that spilled into the large venue's gardens. 

"Well, we've done it, Mrs. Shelby," Tommy said, walking up from behind you with two champagne glasses. You took one with a broad smile. 

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby. I'd have to agree."

"Are you having a good time?"

"Sure, are you? This is your wedding gift," you said, motioning to the crowds.

"And how is that?" He looked over the railing with you. You started pointing people out.

"Over there is the Commissioner and his wife's sister. London police chief over there with his mistress. Lady Catherine Wilcox, one of the most influential socialites in the country, is by the fountain. She's been eyeing Arthur all night too. And so on." You nodded triumphantly. "At those parties I was having in London, I only said good things about you, which is annoying to admit but here we are. Thomas Shelby, your wedding is your introduction to the upper echelon society." He turned and leaned against the railing, and you followed his lead. 

"I guess I owe you a thank you," he said. 

"I’d say so. You’re on several guest lists and incredibly important customer lists now.” You cupped your ear and leaned closer. “Let's hear it.”

"Thank you, y/n." He rolled his eyes, then looked at you with a sigh. "Are you happy, then?" He asked.

"Better, I'm satisfied."

With a clink of your glasses, your relationship could begin. And when Tommy leaned in to kiss you, you didn't pull away. 

"This seems like a crush," were your first words when you parted.

"You're the one who made us late to the ceremony," he pointed out.

"No one even noticed."

"I think they did," he begged to differ. 

"You weren't supposed to come to find me before the wedding. It's bad luck," you tsked Tommy, taking another sip of the bubbling drink, which did nothing to help the heat creeping up your neck. 

"Just had to make sure you didn't run off." He shrugged but moved closer to whisper in your ear. "And I believe, Mrs. Shelby, the dress wasn't even on yet."

"Don't get your hopes up, it meant nothing." You waved it away, not convinced or convincing. Tommy nodded then kissed you again. 

"Right, right. It's just good business." 

--

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor