#apple beauty i am looking directly at you

[knightinpinkunderwear]

The thing about tollywood songs you think you hate the first time you watch the film is that a lot of them are earworms and by the 5th time you hear them you have been coerced into liking them by sheer energy and vibes

[yourgentlegirlfriend]

I dont know if your request is still open, but if it is can you make a young reader(maybe 25-26) and Re6 Leon, with reader as his new neighbour? Maybe with reader baking a "nice to meet you" cake or pie and give it to Leon after he came from a mission?

Thank you very much 😘

HI! i loved this and has to write it- i added my own twist to it and am TOTALLY thinking about writing a part two, depends on what you guys think <3

gn! younger neighbor reader x Re6 older leon

DISCLAIMER: This is an 18+ blog! If you are underaged or don’t have an age indicator in your bio, please don’t interact!

Warnings: none actually- yet. but it does switch between reader and leon perspective it should be easy to catch onto

word count: 1,141

“Get! Go!”

You yelled at the group of kids walking toward your neighbor's abandoned house. A sigh leaves your lips as you water the flower bushes in your front yard. Your eyes scanned his yard, frowning at the dead grass and bushes. You look around for a few seconds before you walk over to your hose, filling up your watering pot and carrying the heavy bucket over to his dead lawn. Your hand on your hip as you watered his dead flower bush, your hose that you had dragged with all your light watering at his grass. You’ve never once met him. He comes and goes so frequently that this is what happens to his yard. A dead lawn can make anyone spiral into a depression. You did this same thing every day for almost a month, waking up bright and early to care for his plants. This morning was supposed to be no different, coming home from your graveyard shift at the diner, the sun barely rising. Your hand reaches down to turn on your hose, but your movements are abruptly stopped when your head turns to his house, actually seeing a car in the driveway and the kitchen light dimly lighting through his blinds.

—————

Leon’s body was sore. And mentally, he was too, his eyes barely open as he drove down the street, his fingers impatiently tapping at his steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to lay down on a bed or even take a shower- did he even pre-pay his bills? The negative thoughts overwhelmed him as he pulled into his driveway, sighing as he stared at the garage door. Pulling his keys from the ignition. He stepped out of his car, admiring the soft blue sky. When his foot hit the grass, his eyebrows rose in confusion, looking down to see the beautiful green. Then he saw the bushes. He walked around the small perimeter, noticing the hose lying at the edge of his grass. He followed it slowly to see it led directly to your house. A soft “hm” left his lips as he walked up his porch steps, pushing through his front door.

————-

You couldn’t sleep- of course, you couldn’t. Your black work shirt is covered in flour. Since you got home, you’ve been working on making the best apple pie you’ve ever made. Your fingers were sticky from the homemade filling. After scrubbing your hands for the sixth time, you squeal in excitement as the timer goes off, pushing the oven mitts onto your hands as you pull it open, being smacked in the face with slight smoke.

“Perfect..”

You whisper as you lay the pie on the counter, your nail scraping over the crust. You hoped he liked apple pie or just pie in general. What if he hates sweets? You shake your head free from negative thoughts as you pull new jeans on and a pretty shirt to go perfectly. Swiping on your peach chapstick. You take a deep breath as you look in the mirror, looking down at your watch to see it is eight already. It was super early- maybe he wasn’t even awake. You groan to yourself as you pick up the pie, smiling at the small amount of powdered sugar on top. You walk down your driveway and the sidewalk. Your eyes scan the grass you nursed to health. When did you get to the front door? You stared at the pretty auburn wood, moving the pie against your right arm as you reached for the doorbell, pressing your finger against it softly. Twelve seconds, fuck, he’s asleep. Your body shifts on your feet as you sigh in defeat, turning and walking down the first step before the door creaks behind you.

“Can I help you?”

The deep voice bounces through your brain as your footsteps back, your body turning to him—a kind smile tugging at your lips as you hold the pie out.

“Hi, I'm your neighbor- I haven’t noticed your home in forever, and I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself..”

Leon’s eyes scanned your face, his eyes dancing over your lips and then down at your pie. God did he love pie. He meant to introduce himself, his mouth opening to speak but-

“You’re the one who’s been watering my lawn?”

You blinked at Leon, confused, as you stepped back a bit before slowly nodding, looking back at the healthy grass.

“Well, yes- My garden is as perfect as I wanted it to be, and I thought it would be a kind gesture..”

Leon’s arm leaned against the door frame, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. He looked exhausted, poor thing. He pushed himself off the frame, opening the door wider for you.

“Please, come in.”

You were surprised; you didn’t think he would speak to you. You thanked him quietly before you stepped into his door, looking around the house. Simple, no pictures on the walls, simple kitchen with essential appliances. You laid the pie on his counter before you turned to him, that gentle smile still on your face.

“It’s homemade. Hope you like apple.”

You speak as Leon walks to the kitchen, standing a few feet from you before he puts his hand out.

“Leon, and you?”

“Y/N, It's really nice to meet you finally.”

—————

Beautiful. Beautiful smile beautiful presence. Leon has always had to train himself not to see the evil in people automatically. How could he say no to you? Standing pretty on his porch as if he didn’t watch you baking in your wide-open kitchen window for almost three hours. He reached for his wallet, pulling out a couple hundred in cash, reaching his hand out to you.

“For the trouble of my lawn.”

Your laugh echoed throughout his kitchen as you shook your head, refusing to accept his money.

“Leon, I took care of your lawn as a form of basic human kindness. It was a great distraction for me. I respectfully decline.”

Leon stared at you, his eyes blinking in confusion as he shoved his wallet back into his pocket.

“Here. This is my number. When you know you’re going out of town for work or anything, give me a call or just knock on my door. I’ll clean for you.”

You nodded your head as you wrote down your number on the small notepad stuck to his fridge. You walked past him, waving your hand.

“Bye, Leon.”

———————

It was the best pie he had ever had. Never has he finished half a pie in a single day. He could never sleep after coming home from missions; his body slumped on the couch as he peered out the window, dreading the disappointment in his chest at the sight of your car still being gone. But like magic, you pulled into your driveway. Maybe he liked the simple things in life, the simple things being you. He leaned over, his eyes switching the view to your still-open kitchen window, seeing you throw your purse onto the counter. He hummed to himself as he reached for his phone, dialing your number. Watching you smile as you reached for the phone, pressing it to your ear, following your lips as your voice echoed through his phone.

“Hello?”

Sweet voice.

“It’s me. I just wanted to thank you sincerely for the pie. It's definitely the best pie I've ever had.”

Leon chuckled as he stood up, tilting his phone as he held it to his ear with his shoulder.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, I'm a great cook, and I can make you whatever cake you want.”

Leon’s head nodded as he leaned against his counter.

“Do you want to catch dinner sometime?”

He wished he could see your surprised reaction from his position on the couch, but your stuttering spoke volume.

“If you want to come over tonight- I can definitely make you something really good.”

Leon smiled as he walked to his bathroom, looking in the mirror.

“You this sweet to every guy? Or are you just being nice because I'm old?”

Leon teased as he pushed his way out of his bathroom and to his room.

“Oh, Leon, stop it. I do respect my elders, though..”

You joked, your giggle making his heart race as he looked for a somewhat lovely shirt.

“Nine? I’ll start cooking now.”

Leon tilted back, looking out his bedroom window. to see you digging through your fridge, a smile growing as he nodded.

“Nine is perfect, I’ll be right over.”

[patheticlittlemen]

HOW SDV BACHELORS REACT TO TESTOSTERONE CHANGES

A/N: Headcanons about if the farmer starts testosterone while married to the bachelors. Sooo super self indulgent and a little silly (very based off my own experience) NSFW so MDNI

This one is my favorite boys- Harvey, Shane, and Elliott. Let me know if there are any other bachelor/ettes you would like added!!

HARVEY

General- Medically fascinated by the changes and grateful to see how happy all of these things make you.

Body hair

Enjoys seeing how much hair grows in new places. Personally enjoys the hair on your chest.

Facial hair

One night, you’re sitting on the bed with your legs slung over Harvey’s lap as he rambles on about the new plane model he ordered. When he turns to look at you, his babbling pauses and he reaches a hand to swipe his thumb across your upper lip.

“You’ve got a mustache growing!” Harvey said excitedly. “Hey, maybe someday you’ll grow one as good as mine.”

Voice

Will always remind you not to talk too much or force your voice when it starts dropping. Makes sure you drink a lot of water and always has lozenges and tea on hand for you when your throat hurts.

Bottom growth

Fascinated by it, in a medical and sexual sense. Loves to look at it and touch it, and really enjoys jerking you off.

Libido

This man gets sooo flustered every time you talk about sex or being horny, no matter how long you’ve been together. Is willing to explore any new interests but this man can’t quite keep up with you, so he buys sex toys for you to use when he isn’t in the mood.

Bonus: Adam’s Apple

“Harvey!” You call out, running into the kitchen with your hand on your neck.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Harvey turns around, looking worried. 

“Feel!” You grab his hand and place it on your neck.

“What am I supposed to be- oh!” Harvey’s fingers settle on the new lump in your throat. “Is that?”

“Yeah! I didn’t even know testosterone could do that!” You grin.

“That’s so cool!” Harvey seems genuinely fascinated and grins back.

SHANE

General- Supportive in a bro way. Super excited to be with you during this time of change.

Body hair

Really likes the hair on your thighs. He likes your thighs already and thinks the hair adds to the appeal.

Facial hair

You walk out of the bathroom, lazily drying your hair with a towel. Shane looks up from the bed, smiling at you as you make your way to him. You lean down to gently kiss him but he stops you.

“Did you wash your face? You got some…” Shane runs his thumb above your upper lip, trying to wipe away whatever he thought was there.

“What, you don’t like my mustache?” You giggle. Shane’s eyebrows raise.

“Babe, I love you, and….I’m sure it will look great one day, but that day is not today. Please shave.”

Voice

Absolutely teases you about your voice cracks. If you complain about his teasing, he’ll claim he’s just helping to give you the “full male experience”.

Bottom growth

Fucks around and finds out. Can tell exactly when he hits the right spot and always remembers what feels good for you. IMO he likes overstimulation and loves to keep playing with your dick until you’re crying.

Libido

He will fuck you any time you ask, no matter how or when. Loves helping you explore any new kinks or turn-ons and can surprisingly keep up with you well.

Bonus: Hand veins

You’re on a walk with Shane, holding hands. It’s been a long day of work on the farm, and you’re feeling a bit dehydrated so you stop by the Stardrop Saloon. As you’re ordering some food and water, Shane kisses the back of your hand. He pauses, looking down at your hand and running a finger along it.

“Have you always had these veins?” He asks.

“Hm?” You look down at your hand, seeing how prominent the veins are. “Oh, those are new. They mostly show up when I’m dehydrated.”

“Huh. They’re hot.” Shane smirks up at you and kisses the back of your hand again, this time directly on the veins.

ELLIOT

General- Thinks all the changes are so beautiful. Enjoys being able to experience all of it along with you, happy to see you become comfortable with yourself.

Body hair

Obsessed with your happy trail. Loves to kiss down your stomach and likes to casually run his hands along it, feeling all the hair.

Facial hair

You’re making dinner for you and Elliott when he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. He steps to the side and grabs your chin, turning your head so you can kiss him. After pulling away, his hand stays on your chin and his finger strokes underneath it, his brows furrowed.

“What’s up?” You ask. A smile grows on Elliott’s face.

“Looks like you’ve got a beard growing,” Elliott says, excitedly. “I can teach you how to shave!”

Voice

“My love…I’m back…”

You jump out of bed as you hear Elliott’s voice. He’s been gone a whole week for his book tour and you’ve missed him dearly.

“Elliott! I’ve missed you!” You hug him tightly.

“Whoa, was your voice always that deep?” Elliott hugs you back.

“I mean, I have felt like it was dropping lately.” Your voice cracks as you speak and Elliott laughs.

“Only gone a week and I’ve already missed so much. I’ve got a lot to catch up on!”

Bottom growth

Always very gender-affirming, referring to it and any sexual acts with strictly male terms (i.e. dick, jerking off). Looooves giving you head.

Libido

Likes to stick with what he likes, but will try some new things for you. As much as he loves making love, his libido isn’t as high as yours but will go down on you/use toys on you any time you want.

Bonus: Scent changes

After a long morning of tending to crops and animals, you pull yourself into the house, desperate for a shower. You make a beeline for the bathroom but are stopped by the door being closed. 

“Elliott?” You ask, knocking gently. He opens the door, setting his comb down.

“Hello, darling.” He leans in for a hug and you can’t even protest as he nuzzles his face into your shoulder.

“Elliott, I’m gross and sweaty.” You argue, trying to push him off you.

“Hmm, you smell different. You smell good, like…very masculine.”

“No, I smell gross.”

“Nope. I think I could sit here and smell you all day.” Elliott murmurs.

“There will be time for that later. Now let me take a shower, please.”

Tag list: @a-pansexual-imp

[koshkamartell]

No One But Me

masterlist

previous

It was only two weeks after Joel had seduced you at his house for the first time. You were too blinded by the excitement and secrecy of it all, far too naive to recognise the foreboding tone in his voice or the intensity of his hawk like stare. You were already falling in love with him - it was impossible for you to have recognised the first sign of Joel's true nature spilling through his facade.

"Can you believe it?" You had asked Joel, your eyes shining brightly. "Kate's brother found this old sewing box on a scavenger mission yesterday. He knows I wear ribbons in my hair, so he gave me this."

You whirled around to show Joel the pale pink satin ribbon entwined in your braid.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You had asked. "And it's my favourite colour, too."

You couldn't see the way Joel glared, his mouth in a tight line and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. His jaw ticked.

You had no inkling that Joel had actually been exercising great restraint of his emotions in that moment, although if you looked back now, it would have been clear. He was annoyed, irritated that another man would gift you anything, even something as small as a ribbon. It ignited a flame of jealousy in Joel's skull to see that someone else could make you so happy.

You twirled back around to face him. "Do you like it?"

Joel nodded. His eyes roamed over your face in  contemplative silence before staring directly into your eyes.

"He ever try anythin' with you?" He had grunted.

Your brows creased and your lips quirked in amusement. "Matt? Kate's brother? No way."

Joel took a step closer to you and cupped the apple of your cheek in his large, calloused hand. You leaned into his touch and smiled contentedly at him.

"Take out your hair," he murmured, his eyes fixed on you.

"Huh? Why?"

"Like seein' your hair down," Joel said softly. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead. "Looks real pretty, babydoll."

You lowered your eyes bashfully and obliged Joel's request. You reached behind you and pulled the hair tie from your braid, then unthreaded the pink ribbon from your locks. Joel stroked your cheek with his thumb and let out a satisfied hum.

"There ya go," Joel whispered. "Perfect."

When he kissed your lips with a deep and sensual yearning, the ribbon fell from your fingers and onto the kitchen floor.

Oscar was awakened by the sound of rain pelting against the roof of his home sometime around noon. He lay still, teetering between the dream world and consciousness, until the cloud of his dreams fully dissolved. The first thing he actively noticed when he was properly awake was the throbbing heaviness of his head.

Oh, God. What's going on? He wondered, brain muddy and limbs like lead. Am I hungover?

His eyes slowly flickered open. The pounding of history head and the lethargy inside his bones increased instantly. He shut them again tightly.

Yes, a hangover, alright. Fuck me.

Oscar groaned and lazily rolled off his stomach and onto his back, vaguely aware of the softness of his mattress underneath him, thankful that he atleast passed out somewhere comfortable.

He wasn't sure just how much he drank last night. He enjoyed a beer with the guys every once and a while but never got drunk, never crossed the limit of more than a couple drinks in one evening. Alcohol was never a vice Oscar indulged in. Judging by how sick his body felt right in this moment, he would have drank alot last night.

Joel had been the one coaxing Oscar into downing one drink after the other until he was just about falling off the bar stool. Oscar vaguely remembered staggering home sometime last night, Joel firmly gripping his bicep to ensure he wouldn't stumble. He wasn't sure exactly how he got inside the house and into his room.

But atleast Joel was right about one thing - being drunk had made Oscar's brain stop racing and replaying memories of the past over and over, even just for a few hours. The dreams of last night were not ones of screams or bloodshed but a blur of random scenarios all blending into one another. It almost made the hangover worth it. Almost.

He dared to open his bleary eyes again. His gaze wandered over to the small window opposite his bed and he watched the rain pouring down outside.

No library duty today, Oscar randomly thought.

He was grateful that he didn't have to work while nursing a hangover, partly because he didn't want you to see him this way. Oscar didn't want you to think he was a drunkard, a weak man who couldn't hold his liquor. He certainly wasn't an alcoholic - he didn't drink every day like some of the other men did. And he hadn't planned to get hammered last night, either. Oscar screwed his eyes shut and groaned again.

This fucking headache.

Oscar drew the blanket over his body and burrowed underneath it's warmth, where he eventually fell back to sleep.

Your body instinctively roused from sleep at your usual wake up time, unaided by the tinny clang of the alarm clock you forgot to set the night before. Your internal body clock had adjusted to this time after years of an established daily work routine in Jackson, and even after a fitful nights sleep, you were able to wake up around the same time every morning, sometimes only a minute before the alarm clock rang. You weren't necessarily an orderly person who relied on strict routine, but like many others in the town you found regularity helped instill some kind of purpose and stability in your life. It didn't matter if you weren't working every day of the week. Adhering to even a lose kind of structure and keeping yourself busy was key - this was something Maria and some of the older residents had taught you as you grew up in Jackson.

••••••

You yawned and scrubbed the sleep from your eyes. It took a few lazy seconds for your mind to properly wake up but when it did, the first coherent thought it conjured was Joel.

Joel.

Your eyes flew open and you bolted upright in your bed.

"Joel?" You spoke, voice rough from sleep.

Was he still here in your room?

Your head swung around in search of him dumbly, as if his hulking frame could be hiding somewhere in your small bedroom. But it was clear from the stillness and deflated energy of the room that he wasn't. There was no sign of him.

He was gone.

You couldn't help the pitiful way your heart sank inside your chest. Despite knowing just why Joel was absent from your bed this morning, you felt wretchedly alone. You felt used. Like you had been abandoned.

You swallowed thickly at the familiar pang of emptiness stabbing into your stomach.

Joel had to go. It was his duty, part of his role in Jackson to protect the town. You knew this. He would return once the mission was over, safe and sound.

Your hands smoothed over the empty expanse of the bedsheets where he had been, as if searching for evidence, some kind of memento proving his earlier presence. Instead you found nothing physical amidst the tangle of the sheets, only the lingering scent of his body, his musk.

You collapsed back onto the mattress with a thud and stared up at the ceiling, blinking away the tears that had begun to well in your eyes.

There had been many times during your time with Joel when he had left your bed before you awoke. Sometimes he snuck out of the cottage in the early morning hours because he had an early patrol. Sometimes it was because Ellie was home and he wanted to be there when she woke up. Whatever the reason for it, Joel's absence always hurt, tearing tiny pinpricks into the soft centre of your soul, leaving you with that ever present gnawing feeling of inadequacy in the root of your being. However, this morning that hurt was greatly exacerbated by the whirlwind of emotions Joel had evoked in you through his recent actions.

His behaviour and attitude over these last few days had left you dazed and disorientated. Joel had rejected you. It was he who refused to be in a proper relationship with you and to evolve into something more meaningful than sex. So why couldn't he let you go?

If he didn't want to give you what you wanted, why was he so obsessed with asserting ownership over you? Was it because Joel did care, did love you, somewhere deep down in his heart? Could it be why last night he showed you more tenderness than he ever had before?

You had so many questions to ask Joel but you knew even if you had the opportunity to ask them he would never answer you. Not sufficiently, not in the way you need them answered. He would probably just brush you off or argue with you or get mad again.

The intensity of his jealousy and rage haunted you. You still couldn't comprehend just how Joel had been so remorseless in his assault of you, how justified he felt in violating your body. The conviction burning in his eyes had scared you the most. Even now, the mere thought of his piercing stare made you want to shrink and hide away.

The juxtaposition of degradation and gentleness was profoundly confusing. The only thing that was clear was that Joel believed you belonged only to him. It made you feel as if you were an object that only he could manipulate at will. A plaything solely for him to fuck, to keep like a dirty secret, to desecrate.

You were ashamed that Joel had proven how weak you were. That despite his cruelty you would still love him. You would even open your legs for him and let him fuck you and make you cum like a pathetic slut. Perhaps that is all you were ever going to be - unworthy of love and only used as a fucktoy.

The convolution of it all made you want to sink your nails into your flesh and scream. You wanted so badly to go back to sleep and give yourself some kind of reprieve from the web of thoughts and emotions, but you had to get ready for work. You had to keep going.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rain hitting the roof of your cottage. You glanced at the window and saw the pounding torrent coming from the dull overcast morning sky outside. It brought with it a blanket of cold air that quickly enveloped the room and made your bare legs and arms shiver.

"Shit," you whispered with chattering teeth.

You hauled the blanket over your body and curled up underneath it, pulling your knees into your chest. You stared out the window and watched the droplets of rainwater slowly trickle down the windowpane.

You allowed yourself five more minutes under the comfort of your blanket before dragging yourself out of bed to begin your day.

••••••

The sky was cloaked in dark grey clouds and lent a subdued, melancholy quality to the atmosphere of the town that morning. You pulled the hoodie of your coat over your head as you began the walk to the small school building near the centre of town. It was still raining, albeit not as forcefully as it had been in the early morning. The ground was muddy and sludgy, making it necessary for you to wear your gumboots instead of your usual sneakers or boots.

The dreary weather reflected your mood aptly, you thought while you trudged on the path to school. With every step you took your pussy ached with discomfort, reminding you that Joel had been inside you and on-top of you only just last night. And despite washing your body thoroughly under the warm water of the shower this morning, you were sure you could still smell Joel under your fingernails, as if he had stained your skin.

You managed to teach your lesson at the school with some semblance of focus, despite the agonisingly slow ticking of the clock holding you captive. You willed yourself not to think of Joel and to just direct all your attention to the blackboard but it was impossible to do so for a prolonged period, especially when you overheard one of the children telling the others around him that a patrol had left this morning to scout for raiders.

"What are raiders exactly?" One student piped up.

"Bad guys who kill and steal!" The ringleader declared. "My uncle Troy is gonna use his rifle to hunt them away."

How did they know what was going on outside the safe walls of Jackson? You shouldn't be so surprised, you reminded yourself - children were curious and could be quite crafty, most likely acquiring information from spying on their elders or tiptoeing past adult conversations unnoticed.

"Children!" You reprimanded them sternly. You hoped they couldn't detect the slight strain in your voice. "That's enough. I don't want to hear any of you talking about anything other than entomology for the rest of the lesson. Got it?"

They nodded their agreement and were quiet and well behaved for the rest of the lesson. You loved the children and reveled in seeing their youthful faces become animated when learning something fun, when your patience was rewarded by their infectious smiles. The children were a consistent reminder of how precious life was and how important it was for you to help maintain the innocence of the children in the post outbreak world.

Despite your fondness for your students, you were deeply relieved when the school day finished and you could dismiss the children. When they cleared out of the room and left you alone at your desk, you savoured the silence and sighed a deep breath. You rubbed the sides of your temples with your fingertips and groaned. You were sitting on the edge of the chair, still avoiding direct contact with the healing skin of your buttocks.

It was only the first day of Joel's absence and you were struggling to keep yourself together.

"How am I going to do this?" You mumbled to yourself.

"Do what?" A voice spoke up, breaking through the silence of the room.

You gasped and turned towards the door. It was just Kate, watching you with a tilt to her head and a playful grin across her face. You sighed heavily and held your hand to your chest.

"Kate! Don't do that, you know I hate people sneaking up on me." You huffed.

Kate chuckled and strolled through the rows of desks with a drawstring bag slung over her shoulder. "Come on, you love it."

"You creep."

She pulled you in for a hug. "Come on, grouchy. You ready to head to my place?"

You hadn't forgotten the plans to meet at Kate's and work on Cassie's wedding gift. It was an old sewing box that was being restored and upholstered with satin lining, to be filled with some of Cassie's most cherished belongings. One of these items would be her deceased mother's bracelet, another would be a framed photograph, the only surviving picture of her family.

"Yeah, just let me tidy up my desk and lock up," you said.

You stood and picked up the chalk duster and started cleaning the blackboard. Kate stood at your desk and inspected the collection of papers and books sitting on-top of it.

"Bug Science?" Kate giggled, "Bet the kids love that shit."

"Yeah," you smiled to yourself. "Oscar found me one of the next installments so I can actually carry on with a proper lesson plan for once."

"Oooh, Oscar, huh?" Kate murmured. You recognised the teasing lilt of her voice, and when you whipped around to see her she was smirking and wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes. "Can't two people just be friends?"

"Ofcourse," Kate smiled. "It's nice to see you being friends with a guy."

You frown. "What do you mean?"

Kate shrugged. "I swear you barely talk to any dude in town outside your cleaning shifts at the mess hall. You always seem nervous around them." 

You look away from her; you suddenly feel conspicuous and full of shame. You remember the anger in Joel's eyes at seeing you with Oscar, the bitterness laced in his accusations when he interrogated you in your bedroom.

"We are just work friends," you mumble, sweeping the chalk duster over the blackboard.

"Yeah, I know," Kate grins at you. "I heard you. I'm just saying that it's good you're making new friends. Now, hurry up and let's get going. Rhi and Jess are gonna be at my house soon."

It was 9pm when you said goodnight to everyone and started the walk back to your home. It had stopped raining but a cold breeze ripped through the muddy streets, whipping at your cheeks and cutting through the layers of your clothes. You tugged your coat tighter around your waist and marched along. You couldn't help but think of Joel, wondering if he was warm enough out in the open tonight. Was he thinking of you at all?

Once you were done tidying the classroom you gathered your belongings and left the school together with Kate. You did your best to repress the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your mind, not wanting your friends to suspect that anything was wrong. It was hard to push thoughts and memories of Joel aside entirely, even with being in the company of your girlfriends and focused on a common task. You still enjoyed the evening and rejoiced with them when the sewing box gift for Cassie was completed. And even when dinner time came around and you didn't feel like eating at all, you still went with them to the mess hall, letting yourself bask in the comfort of their laughter and lighthearted conversation.

He is probably far too occupied hunting down the raiders, you idiot, you cursed yourself. Is there's anyone he would be thinking of, it would be Ellie.

Shit, Ellie!

You hadn't even considered Ellie and how she was feeling. She must be worried sick about Joel. You immediately decided to go check up on her.

You crossed the street and slipped between two houses to cut through to the adjacent street. Their home was only another block away from where you were, and it only took another couple of minutes for you to get there. Steeling yourself against the wind, you trudged up to the small front steps and knocked your fist against the door.

It didn't take long for Ellie to swing the door wide open. Seeing the solemn expression on her face, her wide brown eyes filled with worry, made your heart crumble.

"Hey," she mumbled.

"Hey, El," you said gently. "I heard Joel went with some of the others for patrol. I just wanted to check on you, see how you were going."

Ellie shrugged and looked down, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Okay, I guess."

You reached out and gave her upper arm a small squeeze. "I'm here for you anytime, alright? If you need someone to talk to."

Ellie nodded and looked back up at you. "He's been on these kinda missions before," she said. "He's old but he's still a tough motherfucker."

You smiled softly at her candor.

"I just miss him, you know?" Ellie sniffed.

You sighed. Me too, you wanted to say.

"Do you wanna come inside?" She asked.

You nodded and she ushered you through the door and into the warmth of the living room. It didn't feel awkward being in Joel's house again, even with him gone; you had spent enough time here to be familiar with the nooks and crannies of the interior, with the smells and sounds, even with the quirks of the noisy upstairs bathroom pipe and the squeaky spare bedroom door.

"I'm actually gonna go sleep over at Uncle Tommy's to keep Maria company," Ellie explained as she shut the door behind you. "Just gotta pack some stuff before I go over there."

"That's a good idea. I'm sure Joel would agree with that." You state evenly.

Ellie snorts. "He still makes me lock the fuckin' door whenever I leave the house. He'd be pissed if I stayed here alone."

You give a shrug of resignation. "He's always been that way about your safety. You know he's just being protective."

Ellie rolls her eyes. "Yeah yeah."

"Can I help you with packing?" You asked.

"Sure. I gotta get some shirts from the laundry, my tooth brush....," she thought aloud as she counted on her fingers. "Actually, can you go to Joel's room and get me one of his shirts?"

Your body went rigid at the mention of Joel's room. "What? His shirt? Why?"

"He said if I ever miss him I could sleep with one of his shirts," Ellie mumbled sheepishly. "Said it would make me feel better."

Oh. That made sense. If only you had the chance to do that, too.

You swallowed and nodded. "Which one do you want?"

Ellie scrunched up her nose and shrugged. "Doesn't matter." She turned around and grabbed some comic books that were sitting on the couch. "They're all the same anyways."

You were grateful that Ellie was so comfortable with you and trusted you, that she thought nothing of asking you to pick one of Joel's shirts out from his bedroom on her behalf. You made your way up the stairs and creeped to Joel's room. You'd been inside his house many times before, had been naked in his bed more times than you could count, but you still felt a twinge of thrill at venturing into his private space, alone and without anyone around.

The door was already wide open. You slunk into the darkness of Joel's room and fumbled for the light switch. The glow of the ceiling light illuminated the room. It was sparsely furnished with only a dark solid timber dresser and a matching bedframe and mattress. His bed was neatly made. The window was shut and the curtains were drawn closed. The scent of Joel - sandalwood and pine - filled your nostrils and wrapped around your heart like a warm caress.

You entered his closet and trailed your fingertips along the row of flannel sleeves that hung from the shirts on the coat hangers. There were several flannel shirts of dark greens and reds alongside a couple of jackets and long sleeve button up cotton shirts. The material felt so warm and soft under your touch. You selected a green flannel from the middle of the bunch and slipped it from its hanger. You had always liked Joel in the green ones.

You were about the leave the closet when something on the shelf above the shirts caught your eye. A sliver of something white. You frowned and stood up on your tiptoes to see what it was. You spied the edge of a small white shoebox peeking out from around a stack of jeans.

What could it be?

You glanced back over your shoulder to the door outside the closet.

Ellie was still downstairs.

Surely you could just have a little look, right?

You turned back to the box and chewed your bottom lip in deliberation.

You didn't want to invade Joel's privacy. You really didn't want to snoop. But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

Oh, fuck it.

You pushed up as tall as your tiptoes would allow and stretched your arm high above you to reach past the jeans and grab the corner of the box. You were able to just catch ahold of it.

Yes!

You nudged it toward you and pulled it off the shelf. Still holding Joel's shirt, you held the box in one hand and lifted the lid off with your other hand, your heart pounding in your chest.

When you opened it, you frowned at the contents before you.

There was a scrap of lacy white material. It took a moment for you to recognise that it was actually a pair of your underwear. An old Polaroid camera. An envelope stuffed with something. A pink ribbon. A gold necklace with a pendant. A folded piece of lined paper.

Oh. The pink ribbon.

The ribbon Kate's brother gave you.

You hadn't seen it for so long - you had thought it was lost, perhaps coming loose from your hair one day and disappearing forever.

What was it doing in this box? And why was your underwear in there, too?

You were about to sift through the rest of the items but the sound of Ellie's voice calling your name came floating up the stairs. It made you gasp and frantically slam the lid back on the box.

"Coming!" You yelled back.

You stumbled onto your tiptoes again and shoved the box back ontop of the shelf and scurried out of the closet.

Shit shit shit.

Ellie was still in the living room shovelling things into a duffel bag when you returned downstairs.

"Got it," you smiled, trying to appear casual and not at all flustered at the discovery you had just made.

"Thanks," Ellie accepted the flannel from you and packed it into the bag. "Ya know, I miss your banana bread. You haven't baked for ages."

You chuckled. "El, it's only been a couple weeks."

"Yeah, that's forever! And that last batch of cookies? They were so good, Joel practically inhaled his share." Ellie laughed.

You couldn't contain the smile that broke out on your lips. "Oh?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "So can you make more? Like really soon?"

"Sure," you smiled softly. "Hey, that gives me an idea. How about we bake something special for Joel when he comes back?"

"Yeah, okay." Ellie gave you a little grin. "Sounds good."

When Ellie finished packing you insisted on walking her over to Maria and Tommy's house to ensure she got there safely. You eventually returned home, your cheeks red from the cold wind, and rolled into bed without bothering to change your clothes. You were tired and just wanted to sleep.

You didn't know what to think about the secret box in Joel's closet. It was perplexing, and it made you feel slightly uneasy. You found yourself trying to rationalise what you discovered; perhaps he found the ribbon and was going to return it to you later, and maybe he kept your underwear as a harmless souvenir, a physical reminder of the intimate tie you two share. Maybe Joel was secretly sentimental.

You didn't allow yourself to really think about it in depth. Instead, you vowed to throw yourself in work at the school and library without dwelling too much on waiting for Joel to return.

The weather was still overcast and miserable the following day when you had the next library shift. Bundled in your coat you were about to open the library door when it swept back, opening wide to reveal Oscar already inside.

"Quick, come in," he urged. "It's terrible out there."

"Thanks," you said as you shuffled into the library.

Oscar shut the door behind you. He was wearing a navy blue turtle neck sweater with jeans. He had removed his shoes and left them by the door, and you saw his sock clad feet peaking out from under the cuff of his jeans. You smiled to yourself at the casual domesticity of it. You peered down at your own feet and groaned.

"Damn, my boots are all muddy! I'm sorry."

You gestured down at your shoes caked in mud and the dirty prints of your soles on the floor.

"No problem, I'll clean the floor later." Oscar waved a hand dismissively.

"Okay," you conceded quietly, feeling a little shy. You shrugged your arms out of your coat.

"Anyway, good morning to you." He tilted his head slightly, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "How are you today?"

You laughed a little. "Good morning to you, too. I'm alright. How are you?"

Oscar scratched his chin and then smoothed his beard with the tips of his fingers. "I'm alright, too.  Just thinking about the next steps in our library makeover venture."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'll be here to help." You said as you squatted down and untied the laces of your boots.

You and Oscar fell into an easy rhythm together, just like on your first shift. He continued painting the walls while you set about cleaning the library space from top to bottom.

"Couldn't do it without you, bookworm," Oscar grinned.

Oscar had asked for you to eat lunch with him in the mess hall again but you adamantly refused, making some excuse about not wanting to leave the library. Undeterred, Oscar disappeared to the mess hall and returned balancing a serving tray with two serves of the lunch the cafeteria was serving that day. You laughed with surprise at his kind gesture, which made him grin even more. And from that day onward, whenever you worked at the library, Oscar would fetch lunch for you both and bring it back for you to eat together.

Over the next four weeks the friendship between you and Oscar progressively flourished. The hours you spent together on the library shifts were filled with discussions of extensive topics, ranging from philosophy to food, music and novels. As you got to know each other better, the more evident it was that there was a connection between you, a mutual respect and affection for each other. You had never felt such an affinity with someone before; an intellectual match with reciprocal emotions and ideas.

It was innocent. There was no hint of romance or sexuality in your interactions, none of the flirtatious kind of repartee you often saw your friends exchange with men at the Tipsy Bison. You weren't accustomed to close friendships with the opposite sex but the sincere nature of Oscar's friendship was comfortable. You valued him for his thoughtfulness and wit, his kindness and his humour. Oscar seemed to appreciate your thoughts and ideas, always asking for your opinion on things. It made you feel important, worthwhile, seen.

Sometimes townsfolk came to the library looking for books on a particular topic, and occasionally some of the children would stop in to read the small collection of picture books and comics the Jackson library possessed. They all complimented on how bright and clean the small building looked now.

The library had always been your sanctuary, and now with Oscar's company there, it felt like your second home. Seeing the results of your efforts gave you a sense of accomplishment and pride. You wished Maude could see it. When you verbalised this to Oscar, he suggested you both visit her after work together; and you did, much to her delight.

You didn't see each other outside your library duties. Oscar had returned to the stables for work duty on the days he wasn't at the library, and you were busy teaching the children. You found yourself wishing you could see Oscar to tell him about the funny things that happened during the day, or about some random fact you had learned while reading.

Gradually over the month, you noticed tiny changes within yourself. You were whistling more often. That you wanted to read more. Your appetite improved greatly and you actually felt hungry. You were able to look at your reflection in the mirror without instantly seeking out your flaws.

You still missed Joel. You still dreamed of his handsome face and his hands on your body, still craved the taste of his mouth and the saltiness of his skin. His absence had only made you crave him more, outweighing your sadness and hurt and compartmentalising it into the depths of your mind.

So when Ellie came running up to you one afternoon while you walked home, squealing that Joel and the patrol group had radioed that they were on their way home, you rejoiced.

You wanted to shower him with kisses and slide into his lap and fuck him, feel him inside you once again, show him how much you missed him.

Had he missed you, too?

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed @kewwrites @romanarose @fan-fiction-floozy

[darklydeliciousdesires]

La Dolce Vita - John Shelby/Cosima Changretta (OFC).

Part two is here, besties! :) I hope you all enjoy it, as I am loving writing these two together. You'll notice too that I gave John a few less kids than we see in canon, just to make it a little easier on myself as the writer, lol!

Words - 4,218

Warnings - Each part will be adult only content, from swearing to eventual smut and violence. Minors DNI.

Part II - Purgatorio

Countryside living was something John had become accustomed to during his marriage to Esme, his beautiful country pile and vast grounds a much more desirable location than the smoggy suburbs of Small Heath. After her death, he had sold it, returning to the latter until he was married again.  

As predicted, Cosima detested living in a back-to-back. Her continued complaining as well as his desire for what he had come to enjoy was what led him to purchase another countryside property, choosing the small village of Wythall in Bromsgrove, buying a beautiful, spacious cottage for her to spruce up. It was far enough from Birmingham to leave his troubles within the swirling smog and looming viaducts, but near enough that he could be back on Watery Lane for his business endeavours in just over forty minutes by car.  

Married life was not ideal, being a person wed to someone he didn’t like, whose tempestuous nature often put him directly in her firing line. However, he could not discount her qualities. A spoiled princess with expensive tastes (the cottage renovation had cost him a fortune) she might have been, but god, she worked her fingers to the bone. 

“Oliver, Mary, Katie, Freddie, Seamus, come along! We’ll be late, get your skates on!” she called, hurrying back to the kitchen were five sandwiches lay on the chopping board, freshly baked bread with liberal fillings of egg and ham, Cosima cutting them into their required shapes. Squares for Oliver and Seamus, triangles for Katie and oblongs for Mary and Freddie. She knew well the likes and dislikes of her stepchildren.  

Wrapping each in baking parchment, she placed them into individual brown paper bags, an apple and a couple of custard creams put in too, five lunches folded neatly and handed to each child as they filed into the kitchen, smartly dressed in their immaculately pressed uniforms. “Give your father a kiss and let’s get moving, come on. We’ll miss the bell! Blinking hell, Seamus, look at your mouth. Toothpaste all over, come here!” 

His son’s mouth was wiped with her handkerchief, the boy squirming, Cosima bopping his little nose with her finger once done before she herded them through the kitchen. “Quickly, quickly, come on!” 

John couldn’t believe she was the same woman who had originally thrown a puce faced fit upon finding out she was to be stepmother to five children, with how well she’d taken to mothering his brood. For Cosima, she’d eventually seen the little ones as a blessing, something to take her mind off the fact that she detested being married to their father.  

Picking up her wicker basket, she followed them out the door without looking at John once, leaving him to sigh and return to the sitting room, drinking tea while reading the morning paper. With the addition of the wicker basket, this meant she would be stopping at the local village shop on her way back from the school, meaning he had roughly an hour before she would be through the door and ready to scrub the house from top to bottom.  

That was something else he couldn’t fault her for; she kept a beautiful home. John just preferred to be nowhere near her while she was going about it. She’d always find something to pick at him about, and he was tiring of it. He did try, to have something more resembling of an actual marriage rather than a setup of convenience with his beautiful young bride, but she shot him down at every step. Her contempt did nothing but continually fester, it seemed. She still couldn’t forgive him for the demise of her father and brother.  

Keeping an eye on the grandfather clock, he waited until fifty minutes had passed before whistling for Dot and Bo, his two faithful springer spaniel bitches. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re off to get a couple of grouse, maybe a pigeon or pheasant an’ all.”  

The dogs began to circle and yap excitedly as he pulled his shotgun from the cabinet, packing ammunition and draping the gun over his arm, heading into the kitchen and wrapping himself some cheese scones in a clean tea towel, placing those in his bag, too. If there was another thing his wife excelled at, it was all things culinary. He’d come directly in her vexed crosshairs upon eating his first meal prepared by her three months before, stating that he did not “eat wop food” as he’d coined her lasagne, without actually even trying it.  

As soon as he’d put a forkful into his mouth, he’d been a very, very rapid convert. It had been perhaps the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, Cosima standing with her arms folded, smirking at his swift change of heart over her food. He now looked forward to every meal she prepared for him with gusto, although couldn’t bear to sit in her company while eating it. He’d try and make conversation, and she’d sulk and pout. It was irksome to say the least.  

His leaving the house was timed impeccably, seeing Cosima walking back down the lane as he was heading out of the garden and into the few acres of lush, green fields that came with the cottage. She even got the money out of that, too, allowing local people to graze their horses upon it when resting their own pastures. While John and the dogs headed for the woods, Cosima let herself into the cottage, putting her apron on and beginning her housework.  

Once her beautiful home was sparkling – not that she allowed it to be any other way – she took the rugs out to beat the dust from them and then returned to the kitchen, making preparations for the children’s dinner. A local lady from the village was coming by to that evening to keep an eye on them while she and John headed back into Birmingham, the family gathering for Polly’s birthday meal at a restaurant upon Broad Street.  

Although she held her husband in a more or less permanent state of contempt, she did actually like Polly. She found her to be strong, intelligent, and once you got to know her, very loving towards her family. It had taken a while for her to thaw, but now the women did get along well. Certainly, Cosima had much more time for her than she did John or Tommy.  

Stirring the pasta sauce in a large pot upon the cast iron range, an original Victorian fixture of the cottage, Cosima sighed. She should be happy. She had literally everything she’d ever wanted, a beautiful home, huge garden, a couple of lovely dogs, a brood of children – and although not her own, they adored her as much as she did them – as well as a handsome, successful husband; whom she couldn’t stand.  

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. John was a nice man, he had a wicked sense of humour, he was a staunch provider, and he was so handsome she caught herself swooning over him all the time. She could see him trying hard to at least have some semblance of a meaningful connection with her, but she couldn’t help herself in shooting him down each and every time. Why?  

Guilt. 

He and his family were why two fifths of her immediate one no longer breathed, and she was to simply forget that and be content, happy in her new life with John? Her father would turn in his grave to know she had now acquired the surname of Shelby. He would be utterly livid. 

“But he isn’t here.” Her statement fell from her lips along with the little splashes of tears from her pretty eyes, eyes so blue that her beloved father had often joked that she couldn’t be his. “She’s the milkman’s, isn’t she?” he’d say in jest to her mother. Of course, she was his, though. A tear landed in the sauce she stirred, Cosima pulling her handkerchief from her dress sleeve and drying her eyes.  

The sound of barking became audible, the kitchen door opening, Dot and Bo being told to sit. “You got that towel, Cosima? I don’t want their muddy feet ruining your clean floor.” That was another thing about John, he was always appreciative of how immaculately she kept their home. Some men merely waved it away as a woman’s work and had no respect for such, but not him.  

“Hold on.” Moving to the cupboard under the sink, she pulled out one of the more raggedy tea towels she kept for the purpose of paw cleaning, handing it to him. 

He took it, a small frown creasing his handsome features. “You been crying?”  

Immediately, she straightened, sniffing as she held herself with her usual dignity. “Garlic, in the pasta sauce. It made my eyes water.” 

“Ah, right.” Moving back outside, he made sure each paw was clean and dry before letting the dogs in, removing his muddy boots and leaving them at the back door. Making his way in, he sniffed the air, half wishing that they were staying at home to eat whatever it was his wife had crafted, it smelled so good. “Let’s have a little try of that, give us a spoon.” 

“No, it isn’t ready yet,” she bustled, returning to the pot.  

He bit his tongue. “I got two pheasants, a grouse and a couple of pigeons. They’re in the outhouse hanging up. Just let me know when you wanna use ‘em and I’ll go pluck ‘em. I know you don’t like doing that.” 

“Okay. Oh, John? That floorboard by the front door has come up again. Can you go and fix it down? I left nails and a hammer on the phone table.” 

“Yeah, in a bit. Wanna have a tea and warm up a bit first.” 

She sighed, chewing her cheek. “No, now please. Before the kids come home. I don’t want them tripping on it while they’re playing.” 

“They ain’t coming home until gone three. Just give us half an hour, eh?” 

“Bloody get it done now, John! Before you forget!”  

Ahh, it had almost been quite civil for a moment. “Oi, watch your fucking tone, woman. I told you I’d get it done and I will. Fucking bad tempered mare.”  

“Stop calling me a mare!” 

“Well stop behaving like one in season then, and I might, eh?” he shook his head, chewing on his toothpick aggressively. “Always fucking blowing up at me for no fucking reason. Sort yourself out, for fucks sake!” 

“Fine!” she raged, flinging her arms in the air with her usual dramatic flair, “I’ll go and do it!” 

“You do that.” He moved to the kettle, filling it with water, intent on having his tea before he went and helped her with the task. He wouldn’t have forgotten either, but she couldn’t just let him be for five minutes while he had a drink and thawed out from the February chill, oh no. She had to pick at him.  

A few minutes passed, John letting the tea steep in the pot as he snacked on a slice of bread slathered in butter and Cosima’s homemade blackberry jam, the sounds of her swearing in Italian drifting through the house until suddenly, a yelp.  

“What the bloody hell’s she done,” he muttered, placing the bread down and moving to the hallway, finding her kneeling down, holding her thumb in a tight grasp. “You alright?” 

“No, I’m blinking not!” she cried through her tears, “I’ve hit my fucking thumb with the cursed, wretched hammer!” 

“Here, let me see.” Pulling her hand from her grasp, he examined it, the knuckle bright red. “At least you ain’t split the skin. Come on, let’s get it under the cold tap.” 

“No, I’m fine,” she snipped, pulling her hand away and attempting to grasp the hammer again. 

“Leave this, I’ll get it done. Come on.” 

“Fuck off, I’m alright!”  

Again, he bit his tongue. “It’s gonna swell unless you get it under the cold water.” 

“I said I’m fine!” 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled her up, her screaming protests falling on deaf ears as he lifted her with ease into his arms, carrying her through to the kitchen. She struggled, swore at him, batted at him with her hands, John tiring of it. “Oh, stop all this malarkey and just let me help ya!”  

He forced her hand beneath the tap, turning it on, holding it there while she winced and continued to cry. All he was trying to do was help her, and she couldn’t even let him do that. Finally, she relaxed a little, sniffing and wiping her tears, her thumb throbbing angrily. “Have I broken it?”  

“Give it a wiggle.” She did. “Did it feel like someone pushing a hot pin into it?” 

“No. It smarts, but it isn’t as bad as that.”  

“Then nah, ain’t broken, bab.” She went to move her hand, John gently directing it back under the stream of cold water. “Few more minutes, or it’ll blow up like a bloody golf ball.” 

“Then I’d look a right state, all teary with my golf ball thumb.”  

He chuckled, putting an arm around her on instinct. What was even more surprising? She leaned into his hug, allowing herself to be comforted by her husband. It was a first, a little thread of connection woven between the warring spouses, John turning the tap off after a few moments and reaching for the soft, white hand towel. “Come sit down and have a cuppa. I’ll go and finish the floorboard.”  

“No, it’s okay,” she protested, shaking her head. “I should think about getting ready, I have to do my hair and it takes forever.” 

“Sure? I’ll drop a nip of brandy in it for ya?” 

She pulled from him, whatever it was that had opened up closing again rapidly. “No, I’m fine.”  

For the sake of a quiet life, he left it, recognising that there had been a little progress there between them, if only very small. He went and finished fixing the floorboard, done within minutes and returning to drink his tea, his little brood coming crashing through the door half an hour later, the house once again full of noise.  

A few hours later and they were ready to leave, the children happily eating their spaghetti al Forno while Mrs. Baxter sat knitting, keeping a watchful eye upon them. Cosima was quiet all the way to town, John giving up in the end and letting the car be filled with nothing but the sound of their strained silence, glad to see his brothers and other family and friends once they arrived at the restaurant.  

His wife continued to be sullen throughout the meal, only really talking to Polly and Lizzie and even then, the women had to work hard to keep the conversation going with her. In the end, the former took it upon herself to pull the newest Shelby aside a little later that night, steering her over to the long, oak bar after she had returned from the ladies. 

“You’ve a face as long as Livery Street, madam,” Polly observed, passing her a gin cocktail. “What’s the matter? You can’t still hate our John, not after how good he’s been to you regardless of that contempt.” Her words were delivered with care, but they did not lack their usual bite. Polly would be protective of her nephews until she drew her last breath, no matter how much she genuinely did like Cosima.  

The young woman took a sip of her drink, placing the dainty glass down, accepting one of Polly’s clove cigarettes with thanks. They were a rare treat from her usual preferred brand of Park Drive, Cosima loving the warm, spicy scent of the burning clove, yet unable to smoke more than a couple at a time on account of how much they made her cough when she did. “I want to be happy with him, Pol. I honestly do, but I can’t get past it all.” 

She didn’t need to elaborate. “It’s been and gone, love. You feel guilty though, I see that.” This woman, god. She was so remarkably perceptive. “You have to move on with your life. If your brother and mother could, then there’s fuck all stopping you, is there?” 

“But my papa...”  

“Cosima, your father is gone, and you are still here,” Polly cut her up with, reaching to lightly grip her forearm. “We women, we suffer the collateral damage in the wars fought by our men, and your father was not blameless in his part. He was a gangster too, just as my boys are, just as your brother is. You know this world we live in, and living is what you have to do, sweetheart. If you keep on holding that burning contempt for John, I’ll tell you now, you’ll be the one who ends up scalded.”  

Her eyes were fixed upon her, unblinking, drawing on her cigarette before lifting her glass to her mouth. “Let it go. Set yourself free, for god’s sake. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, you hear me?” 

She nodded. “I do. Easier said than done, though, it seems.” 

“Horse shit.” She slapped a gloved hand off the bar, shaking her head as she tutted. “Life is as hard as you make it for yourself, my girl. Stop punishing yourself because you think that’s what your father would do, should he still be alive.”  

Again, Cosima was startled by Polly’s intuitive assessment of the situation, straightening and knocking back the rest of her drink. “Thanks for the chat, Pol. I know you’re right, but...” 

“But you’re a typical hardheaded, fire blooded Italian. Listening to others don’t come easy to you, I know. Just know that if you made it easy on yourself, that man over there? He’d soon treasure you like you were the rarest jewel on earth.”  

Cosima got up, heading past the table and outside, finishing the cigarette and reaching into her little sequined bag to pull out her own gold case, lighting up one of her own. She felt agitated by Polly’s words, pacing up and down as the discomfort of being told what to do rolled through her ceaselessly. She knew why it annoyed her the most, though. Polly was right.  

Still, it was in Cosima’s nature to fight it at any given opportunity.  

“How’s ya thumb feeling now?” 

Turning, she looked into the radiant, cloudy blue eyes of her husband. All she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts for a little while, but no. “Stings a little, but it’s okay.” 

He nodded, taking a pull on his cigar. “And you? Thought we were actually starting to talk to each other kinda civilly earlier, then you went quiet on me.” 

Her stare was through narrowed eyes, the magma in her blood rising in heat. “Always my fault, isn’t it?” 

“That’s not what I said, Cosima.” 

“No, but you meant it, didn’t you?” 

For fucks sake. How much harder was this tempestuous madam going to make his life? “You need to stop putting words in me mouth, love. Getting right tired of it, I am.” 

Her beautiful lips were held in pout a little longer, drawing angrily upon her cigarette, not able to escape the intensity of her husband's stare as finally, she pushed her pride down. “I’m sorry.”  

“Well, look at that. Twice since we were married, you’ve said you were sorry. Some fellas make it to their diamond wedding anniversaries without hearing it once from the missus. Ain’t I lucky, eh?” His attempt of a joke fell flat, her face unmoving. God, she was whittling him down to his last nerve, and rapidly. “Ain't you ever heard of smiling, Cosima?" He charged her with, eyeing her defiantly. 

She pulled the white fox fur warming her pale curves tighter around herself, taking one last drag upon her cigarette before flicking it away. “If you give me something to smile about, I might.” 

Oh, he had his work cut out for him, John scratching his jaw. “I’ll stick my fucking face between your legs for about half an hour, then you’ll be grinning like a loon, you miserable cow.” he muttered, but not nearly quietly enough 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, bab,” he grinned, gritting his teeth behind that forced smile. “Nothing at-fucking-all.” Give her something to smile about? She had a nerve. He’d bought her a beautiful cottage, gave her fifty pounds a week to buy whatever she wanted for herself completely aside from the housekeeping money, and was working his arse off in an effort to be a good husband. He felt like telling Tommy where he could stick his Changretta truce. Nothing, it seemed, would make her warm to him.  

He headed back inside, leaving her standing there alone, lighting herself another cigarette as she pouted, but mainly at herself. She knew it had to stop, she had to cease being – as he had quite rightly coined her – a miserable cow. The guilt of it, though. Oh, the guilt.  

“Oi, love,” an approaching man called to her, flanked by two others, “how much for a bit of how’s your father, eh?” 

“I beg your fucking pardon?” she spat, her mouth dropping open.  

Looking her up and down, he smirked. “You’re a bird standing on a street corner with a low-cut dress on. Ain’t hard to see you’re touting for business, so how much?”  

“Wait there,” she gritted, lifting her chin defiantly. “Let me go and fetch my pimp.”  

Marching back into the restaurant, John thought she was coming to have a go at him all over again, taking in her thunderous expression. “John! There’s a man out there who just accused me of being a fucking prostitute!”  

Arriving with him at the bar, she drew stares from all around, the less coarse clientele tutting and muttering, Tommy touching a hand to her elbow. “Keep your voice down, love.” 

“I will bloody not!” 

John cut in, nodding to his brother. “Take us out to him.” Her heart all but stopped dead at seeing the look in his eyes, the immediate, highly angered state her words had caused to rise within him like a leviathan. He might’ve been annoyed with her, but still, one mention of her being spoken to disrespectfully and he fired into action. Taking her hand, he walked her from the restaurant, Tommy at her other side.  

“This your pimp, is it? Oh, two fellas, eh?” 

“Ar, lad. She must be good!” one of the other jokers with the man who had disrespected her offered, the three laughing.  

“Gonna be laughing on the other side of your face in a minute, mush. Now, which fucking one of you called my wife a whore?”  

“Me,” the central man spoke, stepping forward, “Cos’ she looks like a whore, don’t she?”  

John eyed him with cool defiance, lifting his chin while stepping closer, their noses almost touching. “Wanna know what you look like, mate?” 

“What?” 

“A man with a really fucking nice smile. A Small Heath smile, as I like to call ‘em.” Removing his cap, he swiftly headbutted the man before him, shattering his nose across his face before grabbing him, gripping his throat in a formidably tight grasp. Using the razorblades upon the peak of the trademark flat cap, he slashed open his face at the corners of his mouth, the skin tearing. “You’ll never fucking speak of my bloody wife like that again, you fucking hear me?” 

While he took care of him, Tommy laid punches upon the second and third, one of them breaking free and beginning to beat John across the back with his fists, Cosima setting her bag down in one of the flowerpots that flanked the restaurant entrance, removing a shoe.  

Charging with a wobbly gait, she hitched up her dress and jumped onto the man’s back, beating him in the face and head with the heel of her shoe, until he was bloody, the heel hitting his eyeball as she snarled. “Don’t you dare touch my fucking husband! Don’t you dare!” 

The men got out of there quickly once Cosima had neatly dismounted her target, John calling after them. “Next time, you lose your fucking tongue, ya cunt!” Breathless, he turned to his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Well, at least I managed to put a smile on someone’s face tonight, eh? Nice work with the shoe an’ all, by the way. Didn’t know you cared.” 

He turned to head back inside with Tommy, straightening themselves after the ruck, Cosima reaching for his shoulder, turning him. He was about to speak again, his words of further sarcastic retort blocked by her lips landing upon his, her arms tightening around his neck. 

Her kisses were blooms of roses growing through wildfire, soft yet burning, John clasping her dainty body to his as he felt his insides cinder upon her heat. He’d fantasised for months about how it would feel to kiss those plump, pink lips, desire running rampant through him. Pulling away, her cheeks flushed, pupils inking, John leaning in for more she happily gave.  

When they parted again, she smiled. Finally. All it took was a smidgen of violence.  

[kachikirby]

Kirby’s Dream Buffet: Perfect Circle Full Stomach - Chapter 1: The Great Witch Has Arrived

It was the usual afternoon in Dream Land that is so peaceful that it makes you yawn. Kirby, who had been napping in the shade of a tree on a hill, was approached by Bandana Waddle Dee.

“Heeeyyy, Kirby! Wake up! It’s snack time!”

Upon hearing the word “snack time”, Kirby, who was sleeping soundly, shot up awake.

“Snack time?! Now!?”

“Yes, here you go.” Bandana sat next to Kirby and held out a box. When Kirby opened it, a delicious smell emanated from inside.

“Waah! It smells yummy!!”

“It’s an apple and walnut tart. I’ve made it countless times, but today’s was especially delicious and the king praised me for it. Because of that, I thought I’d let you try it too.”

“Yaay! Thank you!” Kirby took a bite and instantly, his face glowed. “Mmmmmmm! It’s so good!”

“I’m glad!”

“It’s amazing, Waddle Dee! This is the most delicious out of all the cakes I’ve eaten up to this point!”

“I’d been playing around with things like how to cut the apples and the temperature of the oven, but I finally came up with the perfect recipe.”

Kirby cut the tart in half and gave it to Bandana.

“Here, you also have some!”

“Huh? No thanks, I’m good. I’m the one who made it, so I’ve tasted it countless times…”

“It’s yummy when you eat it outside, and it’s even more yummy when two people eat something together!”

Upon hearing that, Bandana smiled. “That’s right. Thank you, Kirby. Well, let’s eat it together.”

The two had fun talking while eating each half of their tart.

When they were done eating, Bandana quickly stood up.

“Well, I have to get back.”

“Oh, already? Aren’t you done working?”

“Not yet. I just left it to everyone in the Waddle Dee Unit while I stepped out for a moment.”

Previously, the Waddle Dee unit was somewhat unreliable, but lately, they’ve been able to do any job they were given properly and because of that, Bandana was able to take a break.

“Thanks, Waddle Dee! It was really, really, REALLY yummy!”

“Then I’ll make it for you again! See you later, Kirby!”

Bandana waved as he returned to the castle.

*        *       *

Bandana Waddle Dee enjoyed doing jobs like cleaning, laundry, and ironing, but he liked making snacks the most because he enjoyed seeing King Dedede and Kirby’s wonderful smiles.

“I’m so glad that he liked it! I think I’ll make a cake that’s even more delicious for tomorrow!” He thought as he approached Castle Dedede.

In front of the gate stood a person he didn’t recognize. They wore an all-black dress that was decorated with scattered stars and a large pointy hat was perched atop their head. Bandana Waddle Dee, curious about this person, spoke up.

“Um… may I help you with something?”

The person turned around and looked down at him. In front of him stood an extremely beautiful women, but her nature seemed cold.

“And you are?”

Her voice was just as cold and lacked emotions. It scared Bandana a bit, as he tended to get nervous in front of sudden visitors. Due to that, he raised his voice as he replied.

“I’m Waddle Dee, a servant of King Dedede. What is your name?”

“I am the galaxy’s grandest great witch, Pauline.”

Her expression barely changed even when she spoke, giving her a mysterious appearance.

“What have you come to ask King Dedede about?” “I cannot discuss it here. I would like to meet with the king and discuss it with him directly.”

“I’m sorry. His highness doesn’t meet with unscheduled visitors.”

Castle Dedede often received unscheduled visitors, many of whom were dark-hearted people willing to take advantage of the king and it was because of this that Bandana adopted a strict attitude towards unscheduled visitors.

The great witch Paulina laughed with a huff. “I have a present for the king and would like to deliver it to him.”

“A present? But…”

“It’s this.”

She took out a fork from somewhere and shook it a little. Just then, a mountain of sweets appeared right before Bandana’s eyes! Cream puffs, cookies, sweet potatoes, donuts, Baumkuchen… a soft and sweet scent wafted from the stack of sweets that caused him to look up. Bandana’s eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“WHA?! WHERE’D ALL THIS COME FROM!?”

“Well, what do you think? If you don’t like it, it can’t be helped. I’ll just be going then…”

“P-please wait a moment!”

Bandana panicked. If he had chased away a guest with such a wonderful gift, he’d get an eyeful from the king. Quickly, he ran to the king’s napping room.

 *        *       *

“Fuaah…? A guest? I don’t know a thing about them, kick ‘em out…. fuaaaahhhhhhhh” With a big yawn, King Dedede went back to sleep.

“Buy, they said they brought a gift for you, your highness! It’s a mountain of sweets!”

“A mo… mount… mountain of… WHAT?!” The king’s eyes shot open instantly. “A MOUNTAIN OF SWEETS?! FOR REAL?!”

“Yes! It’s amazing! The great witch only shakes a fork, and it summons more cream puffs and cookies than you can eat…”

“You idiot! There’s no limit to the number of sweets I can eat! I’ll eat ‘em all!”

“Y… yes. Whatever you say, your highness…”

“YAHOO!! CREAM PUFFS! COOKIES!”

Before Bandana could finish speaking, the king jumped out of his napping room and ran down the stairs, rejoicing all the way.

*        *       *

The great witch Pauline had been taken to the reception room. The Waddle Dees were working hard on bringing all the mountains of sweets to the pantry for storage. No matter how many round trips they did, it looked like they weren’t even making a dent in the piles.

“It smells great in here!”

King Dedede, who had been drawn by the smell of sweets, almost jumped into the pantry, but was desperately stopped by Bandana.

“Your highness, the guest is in the reception room! It’s not that way!”

“Outta my way! I’m here for the mountain of sweets!”

“We can’t keep the witch waiting! If she’s waiting for too long, something bad might happen!”

Upon hearing those words, Dedede calmed down.

“Nggghhh… that’s right. Waddle Dee, put all you got into showing hospitality to the witch! Give her some first-class Dedede-stamped tea and a first-class Dedede stamped teacup!”

“Understood, your highness!”

Dedede quickly headed towards the reception room. As Bandana carried the first-class tea to her, the witch squinted her eyes and laughed.

“Fu fu… well, that’s very polite of you. I appreciate your gift.”

“Now, who exactly are you?” Dedede asked, leaning forward.

“I am the galaxy’s grandest great witch, Pauline. I am a genius patissiere who loves and has mastered sweets.”

“Oh, that means you’re a person who makes sweets. You make them yourself?”

“Of course, with magic.”

Pauline leaned back.

“A great witch never uses her hands. Everything is done with magic.”

“Then that mountain of sweets was all magic…?”

“Naturally. A great witch like myself can create that much with only a single wave of a fork.”

Pauline took out the fork and shook it once, causing a chocolate cake to manifest on the table with a “pop”. It was a scrumptious looking cake with rich chocolate that shined.

“UOOOOOOO…!?” Dedede almost drooled.

The great witch fluttered her hands. “It’s a piece of cake! Take your time to savor it!”

“A…Amazing…!”

“Well, this is the reason I came to Dream Land.”

“It is?”

Dedede took a bite of the cake and immediately jumped from the sofa.

“DELICIIIIIOUUUUUUUUSSSS!! It’s delicious! I can’t believe you made this so quick! You’re a super genius!”

“Fu fu fu… I’d like to hold a Dream Buffet here.”

“Dream Buffet? What’s that?” The king asked, quickly finishing the cake.

“It’s exactly what you think, a buffet one can only dream about. But it being a “buffet” does not mean that it will be considered a delicacy, I want everyone in Dream Land to taste the sweets made with my great magic.”

“Everyone? No way! We don’t need that!” The king shook his head. “It’d be better if you made sweets just for me! It’d be a waste for everyone else to eat such a delicious cake!”

“I won’t allow that.” Pauline glared at Dedede with cold eyes. “The duty of a witch is to make as many people happy as possible. I came here to fulfill that duty, not to satisfy a single person.”

“But…”

“I want my sweets to be enjoyed by as many people as possible. If I cannot do that, then there is no need for me to be here. Good bye.”

Pauline looked like she was about to stand up, but she was stopped by Dedede.

“Hold up! I get it! I’ll let you gather the citizens and have it!”

“Fu fu… very good.” Pauline gave a satisfied smile. “Your highness would like the citizens to know about the Dream Buffet. You can leave all the preparations to me.”

“Yup, it’s all you! Let all of them know!”

The two firmly shook hands.

*        *       *

After Pauline left, Bandana spoke with a smile. “It’s great that she wants to make everyone happy. I thought she was a bit scary at first, but she really is a nice person.”

“Hmph… what a waste… wanting everyone else to have this yummy cake…” The king grumbled with a pout.

“Was her cake delicious?” Bandana asked.

“Of course! The sweet, slightly bitter chocolate and the smooth, moist cake are folded into layers, and the finely ground nuts on top... NGAHHHHHHHH!!!” Dedede thrashed about on the sofa as he remembered the spectacular chocolate cake. “Oh right, those guys brought the mountain of sweets to the pantry, right? I can’t handle this anymore!”

The king rushed to the pantry. Upon opening the door, a gentle, sweet smell wafted through the air. He licked his lips.

“The smell is too much! Let’s see…”

Dedede grabbed a cream puff and popped it into his mouth. Suddenly, he jumped up in excitement.

“So… YUMMYYY! This is so yummy!”

He started eating all the food he could get his hands on until he saw Bandana, who was looking around at the mountain of sweets with eyes sparkling. The king offered the sweet that he was about to eat him.

“You have some too.”

“Huh? Is it ok if I do?”

“My subordinates must be gourmets that can savor the taste of sweets from a top-class patissiere.”

“Yes, thank you very much!”

“All of you, join in too!” Dedede said as he looked at the Waddle Dee unit lined up against the wall.

“Us, too!? Yay! Thank you so much, your highness!”

They were so excited that the jumped into the pile of sweets.

“Uwaaahhhh! This cookie is great! It’s so yummy!”

“The doughnuts are also so fluffy and yummy! I can eat as many as I want in no time at all!”

Dedede laughed heartily upon seeing their beaming smiles. “Wahahaha! Don’t you all forget! Pauline gave these sweets to me, so it’s a tribute to my esteemed self!”

“Yes! Of course, your highness!”

“Get in touch with everyone in Dream Land about the Dream Buffet! Make sure they know it’s all thanks to me!”

“Yes, sir!”

Their stomachs filled to the brim with delicious sweets, the Waddle Dees rushed out of the castle.

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

TL Note:

When Pauline was explaining what a Dream Buffet is, I did translate the original text with the JP version of the title (Gourmet Fest) and then did a version with the NA version of the title (Dream Buffet) because I was honestly kind of unsure with to go with. I was going to go with Gourmet Fest to stick to the Japanese, but then I thought to go with the Localized title for consistency.

Like I know when people think of "buffet", they tend to think of the chain places like Old Country Buffet and whatnot, but I was thinking more like… expensive hotel buffets when I wrote the translation.

For posteriority, I included the original translation I did with the JP title.

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

Table of Contents

Next Chapter

[judyfromfinance]

See You Again

(Heimdall/Reader SongFic)

I’m trying to jump back into writing for my boy again. This song has been stuck in my head and it’s so beautiful that everyone needs to hear it. This will be like an AU to my long fic “Olden Times. Modern Thinking.” It’s the same reader but anything that happens in this fic does not impact the main storyline. It’s just supposed to be a cute lil thing for y’all.

Special shout out to my queen @engardeitsme for always slaying the writing scene and being a big inspiration for me~

The song is See You Again by Tyler, The Creator ft. Kali Uchis.

You live in my dream state.

Relocate my fantasy.

It was so reckless of you to have followed Atreus to Freya’s old abandoned home. And even more so when you jumped through that vortex of ravens. When you realized they dropped you both off at the top of the wall instead of the outskirts of Asgard you knew things were going to be different than the game. Especially when you lifted your head and found yourself staring directly into the most beautiful violet galaxies to bless this world. Thank god for Santa Monica Studio.

“I don’t know who that is, but I assure you… they have nothing to do with my godly appearance.” Heimdall preened after reading your unmitigated thoughts. You should probably try to keep your thoughts under lock and key.

“You can try but I think we both know that won’t work.” He smirked down at you after he offered you a hand. Only one more thought crossed your mind as you could feel his unadulterated godly power beneath his skin. If he had wanted to, all he had to do was pull a little bit more on your hand and you’d be down an arm. Oh fuck.

Heimdall’s eyes filled up with mirth as he let go of your hand, perhaps a bit more gently then he had grabbed it.

“Yes, ‘oh fuck’ indeed.”

I stay in reality.

You live in my dream state.

It was, to put it mildly, fucking annoying to have someone be able to read your every thought. Especially when that person was a dickhead like Heimdall. Why was that prick allowed to be gorgeous? Like who gave him the right?

“You know it’s honestly quite pathetic how often your thoughts linger on me. Though I can’t blame you. I am, oh how did you put it…” he took a bite of his apple as he failed to look like he was actually thinking. “… oh right, gorgeous.” He tossed his half eaten apple aside as he smirked down at you. Eyes crinkled with amusement. You rolled your own as you shot back your own retort.

“You know it’s honestly quite pathetic how often you linger around me. Though I can’t blame you. You probably don’t get many compliments do you?” You uttered, trying to mock him. His mouth fell into a flat line as he walked closer towards you. He bent down to be closer to your height. Your eyes fell to Gjallarhorn before you quickly moved them back to meet his eyes as you made a conscious effort to not think about the game you were currently residing in. Their future.

Heimdall narrowed his eyes before immediately rolling them and standing back up to his full height. He immediately turned and walked away but not before slightly turning his head back towards you as he threw out the first backhanded compliment he’s ever given you.

“No need to be so feisty. All though your nothing compared to all the goddesses I’ve seen, you’re not too bad. For a mortal.” Despite being no where near nice, you felt your face heat up anyways. God he’s such an ass. And you fucking like him.

2020 2020 vision.

Cupid hit me, Cupid hit me with precision eye…

It’s been a week. A full week of being stuck in Asgard doing fuck all as Atreus went and did his little magic lessons with Odin. You tried to help out the staff here and there but it seemed they didn’t want you to. You couldn’t tell if it was because they saw you as a guest and therefore shouldn’t be doing chores or because they saw you as human and therefore were inept at even doing chores. Either way, you were stuck with nothing to do. Occasionally Thrud would show up to hang with you but for the most part, she also had her own things to do. So that left you alone with your thoughts.

Heimdall would often come by to annoy you. But for some reason his teasing had become more bearable. You can tell it was all on his part too. His snide remarks would hit less. He’s even slowed down on the constant reading of your thoughts. Though you don’t understand why. You huffed as you sat down on a bench just outside of a field of crops. Your mind began to wander to your home. And of all the things you were missing as your brain filled this void with music.

“…wonder if you look both ways when you cross my mind.”

The song and the beautiful music video played in your mind as you lost yourself to the beat, not knowing someone was watching it with you.

The video began to shift in your mind as you thought about the past week. Heimdall taking you on patrol so he could keep an eye on you, or so he says. You wondering out loud in the silence on why he would need to keep such a close eye on you, a measly mortal. Him not giving you an answer as he crossed his arms and looked over the New Midgard settlement. And that non-answer being answer enough for you.

You trying to find Heimdall in the humdrum of Gladsheim. Thinking about how maybe if you thought about him hard enough he might show up and whether or not that constitutes as praying. Heimdall showing up immediately after, answering your question that yes at least for him, it counts as praying. Heimdall then trying to poke fun at you by saying how none of your friends had time for you but never got to it as he saw in your mind that for some reason you came looking for him first. You frowned up at his frozen face as he backtracked and instead said if you had nothing better to do then at least be useful and help him brush Gulltoppr.

The past immediately transformed into the future in your minds eye as your heart beat quickened with images of what’s to come. Kratos, the intimidating yet kind god who took you in, pummeling Heimdall’s face into the ground.

Heimdall grasped his throat as these images played in your mind. The God Killer once again living up to his name as he squeezed the life out of him. Heimdall didn’t want to believe that was him on the ground. Couldn’t believe he was covered in his own blood. Missing an arm even. These images flashing through your mind seemed too real to be just visions of a potential future. It’s like you’ve witnessed them before. He noticed in this vision that you weren’t there when it happened. In this image you were holding onto some strange device. Your thumbs moving these strange black levers as a blue light emitted from it. There was a strong connection between you and Kratos in that moment. But before he can try to figure out what exactly was happening your mind warped once more.

You now were thinking about ways to alter this future. What could you say? What could you do? Is there anything you could do to persuade Heimdall that you didn’t want him to die? That for some ungodly reason, you actually like him and believed that he could be more than what his father wants him to be.

Heimdall felt a wave of emotions crash over him as he stared into the back of your head. He listened carefully to the next words you sung under your breath, hoping the breeze would carry them away from you, along with all the emotions tied to them. The breeze instead carried them straight to the man, the god, they were sung for.

“Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?…”

Heimdall then wondered in his very long, very loyal life… if he was truly doing the right thing. He glanced towards the sky as black feathers danced together. Almost mocking him with the simple fact that he would never be able to dance with you. Not in the way you’d want him too.

“…I said I’m ‘bout to go to war. And I don’t know if ima see you again.”

No. Heimdall wouldn’t let you go to war. This war was his to fight in and his alone. He couldn’t be with you in the way he desperately wanted to. Lest you both face the ire of the All-Father. But he will make sure that you stay safe.

Heimdall turned on his heel as he left you to think. After all, he was given a mission by the All-Father. Shouldn’t be too hard, it’s only in Vanaheim after all.

Just a short and cute lil oneshot to get back in the groove~ (о´∀`о)

Taglist: @sumebuddy @sissontrinity123 @different4black @r6co @slaying69696969 @dijanur @frog-cultist @jamellemal @star-angel1 @mrsurrealism @ladysaribu @shirocchi13 @noxiemoon @fullmoonwolfer1 @forg1 @onix-a @silvergoldraeven @inky-weeaboo-weirdo14 @fandomcatchall @Imorg149 @doubledaredevil @screaming-potato @6demonica9 @einsvei @mad4hugs @oreocookie24 @lunaryasha @rustypotatospork @love-giselle @entityunbound @nixeustheclamity @majestichugs @blazingstarsblog @cheesewithasideofcheese @photos-fantasy-and-scifi @shycandykitty @photographykomiko @snoriander @lunamomos @rowanlovesmoonknight @fairytale202 @cbradio18 @fantasticcollectordefendor @coochie-crawler @booksandblanketnests @sun-bae @anything-scary @frida-oydna @couldyoutellmewhatsreal @damonsalavatore-best @tnnadia @dddraven @longshlong2 @crunchychicken1231 @multifangrell @actualhawkesworld @coralpositivityclassroomsoul @pugger775 @mr-trick @romanzpixxablog @violet2507 @bonsaijoons @the-broken-faucet @missmannequin @chaoticlandsoul @a-bunny13 @httptaegi @utterlynuts @blarba-girl @jellyedkazoo @lynn-haitani @pandoras-box2 @fugtrap

[huoyd]

Dot's Delivery Service

Summary: As customary for the witches of their family, it's officially Dot's term to go off in to the world and train to be the next great witch of her family. Ao3 Link: [ link ] Pairings: none Words: 1251 A/N: Hey everyone, this is the piece I did for the @weeb-warners's anime-niacs zine ! I hope you all like it ! [ commissions ]

The wind rustles through the tall grass surrounding Yakko as he sits peacefully on the grassy hill nearby to their home. He watches the blades bend, the sun reflecting off the brilliant green, enjoying the last few hours he has before he’s stuck in the backseat of a car with both his siblings for however long it takes to get to their campsite.

It’s a beautiful day that he knows will turn into a beautiful night. It’s nearing the end of spring, so while there’s still a mild chill to the air, there’s no bite. Perfect for camping. 

Perfect for flying. 

It doesn’t take having a talent for precognition to know that the camping trip will get cancelled. 

He stands up, stretches, and makes his way towards the house. The car is left half-packed, bags and tents laying on the ground around the vehicle, abandoned probably at Dot’s announcement. He can already hear his father trying to convince his baby sister to just hold out another week. 

“Ah, the youngest is always the hardest, huh, Momma?” Yakko asks, leaning against the doorframe as both he and his mother watch on with fond smiles.

“I hadn’t thought it would be, and yet,” Angelina says back as Dot circles the house throwing things into her bag.  She carefully steps around Wakko where he’s sitting on one of the kitchen stools to grab a couple of apples off the counter. There’s a half-eaten apple in his own hand and an entertained smile on his face as his eyes follow their father trailing along behind her.

“Ah, c’mon, princess, we’ve been plannin’ this trip for weeks, can’t ya’ jus’ wait a lil’ while longer?” 

Dot finally stops her flurry of movements, turning around to face their father. 

“Sorry, dad~ When you know you know, and I know that tonight is going to be the perfect night to go.” She looks out the window with a bright smile. The leaves rustle in the trees as the light breeze blows through them. “Yeah, tonight is going to be perfect and I need it to be perfect. How else am I going to prove I’m ten times the witch that these two bozos are?” 

She sticks her tongue out at Yakko, and Yakko returns the gesture, though his smile stays lighthearted. 

He’d gone out on his own training when he was 13, and so had Wakko, though Yakko had returned home this spring in anticipation of Dot going on her own. Both of their training had gone well with Yakko, now 18, working as a seer in a small coastal town just south of their home, and Wakko, 15, now training directly under their mother in potion making.

Now it’s Dot’s turn to go out into the world and find her talent. 

Angelina finishes hemming the bottom of Dot’s dress, making sure it fits just right for her journey. 

“Does it have to be so dark? Black clashes with my fur,” Dot tells her mother with a pout as she holds the dress up. 

“It’s customary, Dot. I’ve at least made it a very dark pink so that it doesn’t clash too horribly. Come now, let’s get you dressed.” 

She helps her daughter into the dress, getting it situated. Once it’s on she helps straighten the flower holding her ears up and smiles. Her hands go to the side of Dot’s head, fluffing her fur.

“Look at you, so grown up. My last, little baby.” She wraps Dot in a hug, tears gathering into her eyes. 

“Mom, c’mon. I’m not a little girl anymore,” she tells her, though hugs back. “You’ll barely know I’m gone, especially with Tweedledee and Tweedledum hanging around for the summer.” 

Honey shakes her head, stepping back to get a good look at Dot before she picks up her bag and broom and hands it over to her. 

“I’ll always notice, baby. And I’ll always be waiting for you to come back home to us.” She leans in, kissing Dot on the forehead before standing back again. Her gaze turns towards the window and she sighs. 

“Dusk,” she comments, and Dot smiles. 

Dot stands at the top of the hill their home rests on, her broom in hand and all of their friends and neighbours gathered to see her off. 

She can feel the wind rustling through her fur, looking out over the horizon. The sun is slowly setting, the sky turning beautiful shades of orange, pink and purple. A few stars begin to twinkle where it’s at its darkest, and the golden light reflects off her eyes. 

She turns back, the same bright eyes focusing on her family. 

“I’m ready.” 

Yakko and Wakko come up first, smiling brightly at her. 

They both remember when they had left, each standing in the very same spot their sister stands in now. 

Yakko had been nervous, unsure about leaving his baby siblings, just 8 and 10 at the time, behind even for a tradition as timeless as this. Wakko had been excited, dreaming of the adventures he could have. The people he would meet. The food he would get to try. It had been little surprise that he’d come back as a potion maker. 

Not that there had been much surprise for Yakko, either. Not with his eerie ability to recite knowledge he had no right to know. 

His eyes catch the bright yellow of the flower pinning up Dot’s ears. He can’t imagine he’ll be overly surprised when she comes home either, but he won’t spoil anything for her. 

“We’re proud of you, baby sis. You’re gonna knock’em dead. One way or another,” Yakko tells her, ruffling her fur. She immediately moves away from his touch. 

“Hey, knock it off!” She hits his hand away before reaching up to fix her flower. There is a smile on her face that she can’t quite smother enough to be annoyed at her eldest brother. 

Wakko comes up next. He wraps her in a bear hug, picking her right up off the ground and giving her a twirl for good measure. 

“We’re gonna miss ya’, Dot, but it’s time t’get out there, make y’er mark on the world! Jus’ hopefully not a scorch mark.” 

She can’t help but to laugh at her sibling’s words as Wakko sets her back on the ground. She takes a step back, her back straightening as she stands tall. Her smile is wide and proud, her eyes determined. 

“Yeah, yeah. It’s gonna be a bigger mark than either of you ever made, just watch me.” 

Her brothers smile at her, but soon their eyes are looking out towards the horizon, watching once more as the wind runs through the leaves on the surrounding trees. Their smiles turn softer, more resigned. They know it’s time. 

“Alright. I’m ready guys!” She says, turning around and getting into position on her broom. 

She can feel a weightlessness gathering in her body as she gets ready for her take off. The wind begins to flow around her, rather than past her, the breeze running through her fur as magic grows within her. 

“You better write, okay, young lady!” She hears her mother yell out behind her and her smile only brightens. 

“Of course I will! How else am I gonna tell you about all of the amazing things I’m doing?” She calls back over her shoulder.

Her eyes look forward, focusing on the horizon, and with one more breath she kicks off the ground.

[breella]

Secrets part 2

A/N: Part 2 to secrets! Angst with a happy ending! I'm always open to suggestions on future parts! If you haven't read part 1 you need to read it first. For some reason it isn't letting me link it here. This series is the first thing I've written in years and I'm having a lot of fun with it. Posting makes me super anxious, but I'm very appreciative of all the love I've received on part 1!

Warnings: Implied sex. Angst. That's all I can think of but if you see anything that needs to be added please let me know.

“Hello Beautiful” Eris smirked. You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. Hearing his voice after 3 weeks of no contact felt like coming home. He looked breathtaking as usual. His red locks were disheveled as if he had been running his hand through his hair. He had on a more casual outfit than he would wear in a public setting. He was leaning against the hearth with his arms crossed. A fire was blazing inside the fireplace.

It took everything in you not to run into his arms. One look at him and you wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms with your lips on his. You wouldn’t do that though. You told yourself you had to be strong. You were only here to hear him out. To see if he had finally decided you didn’t need to hide your bond anymore.

“Well, I’m here. Talk.” You replied flatly. You hoped your emotions weren’t showing on your face.

“I brought apple crisp and some wine.” He smiled. “I know it’s your favorite. Care to join me in the kitchen?” He continued when you didn’t reply.

“I’m not here to play games, Eris” you replied with a sigh moving yourself to the armchair on the other side of the room. It was a calculated move. You knew if you sat on the couch, he would sit beside you and you didn’t trust yourself to be that close to him.

“I know love. I’ve been going crazy these weeks without you. You’re all that’s been on my mind. I needed to see you.”

“Well you’ve seen me. If that’s it, I’ll be leaving.” You made a move to stand. You hoped he didn’t hear your heart racing.

“Wait.” Eris pushed himself from the wall and moved to the chair directly across from your own. He looked lost in thought for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words to say. He finally settled on “I’m sorry y/n.”

“That must have been hard for you Eris. Have you ever apologized to anyone before?”

“I truly mean it y/n. I never intended to hurt you.”

“What’s so wrong with me that you want to keep us hidden?” Your voice came out much weaker than you expected. You hadn’t meant to let the words slip. You didn’t want to sound so vulnerable. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes making your vision blurry.

Flames danced in Eris’s eyes as his knuckles turned white from gripping the side of the chair so hard. “Look at me” he commanded. You couldn’t help but obey. Your eyes moved up to meet his as a tear ran down your cheek. “There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing. You are perfect in every single way. I’m sorry that I haven’t done enough to show you that.”

“If there is nothing wrong with me than why are you doing this? It made sense under the mountain. It wasn’t safe for anyone to know there. Then there was the war. It wasn’t the right time to tell anyone then. But now… now we have no excuse to hide. If you aren’t embarrassed of me and our bond, then exactly what is the issue Eris?” You stood from your chair somewhere during your questions. You moved closer to him without even realizing you’d done so. Your sadness had been replaced by anger. Black swirls of night surrounded you.

Eris stood too pushing his chair across the floor as he did. “I’m trying to keep you safe for fucks sake. Why can’t you see that?” The fire blazed in the fireplace as his own anger rose to the surface.

“Keep me safe?” you scoffed. “Keep me safe from what Eris? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” You were so sick of everyone in your life making choices about your safety without even consulting you.

“From Beron and-“ His voice was laced with anger and maybe fear.

“I am not afraid of Beron.” You cut him off. You were not going to allow Beron Vanserra to keep you from your mate.

“You didn’t see what he did to Lucien’s lover.” His voice was softer now. “He killed her y/n. He killed her for no reason other than to see Lucien suffer.” The flames in his eyes were gone now. You had never seen him look this way. He looked sad, broken.

“Eris-“ you placed your hand on his arm. It hurt you to see him this upset.

“He’s taken everything I’ve ever loved away from me” he whispered. “I can’t let him take you too. I love you.”

The air was suddenly thick. He had never spoken those words before. He had never allowed himself to say them out loud. You placed your hands on the sides of his face pulling his face closer to yours. “Beron isn’t going to take me away from you Eris. No one is. I love you too.” You placed your lips on his in a gentle kiss.

When you went to pull away his arms wrapped around your waist pulling your body into his. His lips crashed down on yours. When the two of you finally pulled apart, he gazed down into your eyes and gently tugged on the bond. “You must think I’m pathetic” he sighed adverting his gaze.

“I would never think you’re pathetic Eris. You saved me under the mountain. I think it’s noble that you want to protect me” you replied. “Although I can make my own choices. I am not afraid of Beron or any of the other risks that come along with loving you Eris. It hurts me to have to hide like this. It hurts to feel the pull of this mating bond every single day but not be with you. It hurts that I can’t talk to my family and friends about it. But I will wait for you Eris. I will wait until you figure it out because you are worth waiting for.”

“I’m ready for the world to know that you are mine” Eris replied before crashing his lips into yours once again. The kiss was intense. His tongue immediately found its way into your mouth. He picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him. He stumbled into furniture before backing you into a wall. “Say it” Eris growled before his lips connected with your neck.

“I’m yours” you said breathlessly as your hands roamed his back pulling at his shirt. You needed him. You needed to feel his skin against your own.

You knew you weren’t getting any sleep tonight. Your legs were going to be jello in the morning. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain it to Cassian and the others when you met them for training in the morning. You didn’t care though. You were with your mate. For the first time in over 50 years, you felt free.

[alexanderlightweight]

Seven sentence Sunday tagged by @lawsofchaos1

Yes it’s not Sunday and it’s more than seven sentences but I’m bad at both math and telling time ^_^ (thanks laws for the tag)

This is for my unnamed kelpie!au and it’s brunch with team!immortal + Alec and Cat doing a medical check up on Alec because she wants to make sure Magnus’ boy is healthy

—

It’s a very tricky process considering how much of Magnus’ extremely possessive magic seems to be in Alec’s body at any given time.

But Magnus also loves her and so even his magic allows her touch, delicate as it is.

“Thank you.” She says, because while she’s offering a service, it’s because of her own worries, not because he asked.

She turns her eyes to Magnus and gives him a glare until he stops poking fun at Ragnor and wilts, facing her.

“Is something wrong?”

“His electrolyte levels are down and his hydration isn’t the best. And he’s drying out physically. You’ll need potions and to have him soak in them, his aquatic nature is making it hard for him to adjust to a surface lifestyle.”

Magnus is immediately fussing over Alec. He presses one hand to the back of Alec’s head and the other takes his wrist, flooding it with magic. “But I’m honestly more worried about his iron and protein levels. Are you having trouble finding prey?” Cat asks worriedly, about to offer access to the hospital morgue.

But as she asks, Magnus' face twists into something frightfully beautiful. Jealousy is an ugly emotion on most, but Magnus makes it look divine.

“I’m fine.” Alec says quickly and gives her a quick look, mouthing ‘later’. “I just happen to hate juice. Especially because Magnus keeps insisting that ‘I just need the right kind of apple juice.” He rolls his eyes and looking directly at Ragnor says, “I keep telling him I’m not actually a horse. And he’ll agree. And then he’ll turn around and try to feed me sugar cubes.”

Ragnor blinks, as shocked as Cat is.

It’s the most Alec has ever spoken and the first time he’s ever voluntarily offered information. And he did it because Magnus is upset. Because he doesn’t want the conversation to continue.

Because he’s protecting Magnus.

Cat decides then that she’s going to protect Alec, because she doubts Magnus will survive if he loses him.

Ragnor notices as well and she knows it will be something they talk about, alone. He immediately takes the distraction offered and puffs his chest up.

“Sugar cubes? Sugar cubes? Those belong in tea, you absolute wanker! You, you! The colonies have corrupted you! Those aren’t something you shove willy-nilly in people's mouths, Magnus.”

“I was providing aftercare!” Magnus protests, face untwisting but he has a hand under the table, no doubt placed somewhere on Alec’s body. He’s calmer now, but still tense.

“They made my teeth feel gross and then you complained my mouth was too sweet for kisses. So I am agreeing with Ragnor on this.” Alec mutters, but he’s leaning closer to Magnus, his chair scooting closed.

Alec winces as it moves and Ragnor and she both catch it.

“You alright laddie? I’m afraid Cat and Magnus all have their own personalized chairs here. Magic makes them quite comfy after a few decades. Shall I summon a new one?”

Alec gives Ragnor a considering look before his eyes dart to Magnus, who still is a little subdued.

“No, but thank you Ragnor. It’s not the chair, it’s the dildo Magnus shoved against my prostate before we came here.”

He says it is so matter-of-fact and clinically that Cat almost thinks she’s hearing things. And then Ragnor is choking violently on his tea and Magnus is staring at Alec in pure delight, as if he’s seeing him again for the first time.

Alec looks smug as he settles a little closer to Magnus. This time when he winces, no one asks, but Magnus smirks, bad mood gone.

“Oh for the love of—“ Ragnor coughs, blowing into a handkerchief and wiping his eyes as he glares at Magnus. “This is your fault ducky, I just know it!”

(I’m only not tagging anyone because it’s closer to Tuesday than Sunday where I am and I’m confused about timeframe already)

[samooooo1]

(Credit for the Art (@roarinthehotate) noice art)

Nagasumi Eiji x reader

Relationships headcannon

>___]___○•V•○___[___<

•He is a sweet but very introvert boy, it be very hard to get him to confess his feelings to you, yet once its over all the things would be paid off.

•You like his hair very much, so its rare that when the both of you are alone, that you dont play with his hair or style him as you find him very handome.

•The both of you love cats, so when the both of you moved in together, you brought a cat with you and by then on, you a extrovert have adopted 2 introverts into your heart.

•You dearly love your boyfriend, but you cant stand it when he doesnt wash himself every 3 days, same with the cat, so what do you do in this kind of situation? You drag them from their sleeping position and throw them in the bathtub and make sure that he washes himself, after that you get ignored by him for doing this things to him but he just cant stay mad at you, so he forgives you and says to you that he will try to make sure, to bath every 3 days.

•You play with him Video games, mostly Digimon ones as both of you grew up to love the franchise and so the both of you are stil to this day very active fans to the franchise.

•You are the one who works while he is at home and how you like to call it "your malewife", while you are his "girl husband".

•Always when you get back from work, he is mostly done with everything and already has prepared a meal for you, and you love him for being the lover that he is to you.

•The both of you go on dates reguarly, even though he is mostly at home, he has a succesful streaming career and gets good profit out of it.

•Sometimes even you watch his streams during work break, and you just love it, as your coworker ask who you are watching, and then you just answer "my beautiful lover ❤️".

•He is a sweet person if it comes to you, when he first met your parents he was scared that they might not like him or say that you break up with him, but then he realised just how sweet even your parents are to him, well the saying "the apple doesnt fall from his tree to far" was probably the best way to describe your parents, they accepted him into the family but they still are strict and he knows, respects and loves that about your parents, because they remimd him of you, atleast when he didnt bath for some time.

•Your first date would have been very akward at first, you both chosse to do a simple pignick as both of you didnt want something big but rather something simple with lots of love and time between the two of you.

•After some years, even though Eiji would have been the more shyer one between the two of you, he would make a proposal to you, if you want to marry him.

•You offcourse said directly yes and all your friends were invited to you wedding, they all were happies but most importantly both of your families were beyond happy and proud of you, as they all cared for the both of you and seeing you both commit to one another made them so happy :D

•You both offcourse married in a Christian like wedding and after the Bishop blessed the both of you, you and him became 1 in flesh and you kissed and it all was offical (YAAAAYYY)

•Now we dont have to speak about your honeymoon my dear readers, as you and I already know what they be doing on their honeymoon ;)

•After a couple more years (3) you became pregnant and had your first children, they were twins! A boy looking like a mini boy version of you ,the mother and a girl, looking like a mini girl version of her father.

•It is safe to say that the both of you are happy for the rest of your life and may God the Almighty Creator protect you both from any harm that comes in this life til the 2nd comming of the Lord Jesus, God bless you both, Amen.

_____________________

God bless ya all, I wanted to write this for some time after knowing about Digimon Seekers, anyways thanks for the person asking for a request :D I am very grateful for getting any requests :D! Also please be a bit patient as it takes some time for me to develop a idea of how to write one shots, but I hope you all be enjoying these one shots.

Thanks for reading til this part :D!

Have a good day/night!

;)

[myfriendpokey]

personal aesthetics

i'm often afraid to look directly at what i want, in case it scatters and disappears, maybe that's cowardly, i don't know. but i've always felt like, to get what you want through intelligence or hard work or talent is to diminish that thing somehow, to turn it into another empty token of the will. and that the only way things come with their original charge of desire intact is as a miracle, as specifically the one thing that we didn't dare to think about, didn't dare wish for.

---

so you can spend your time vamping, drawing circles around the magic incantation. and these circles can be interesting enough in themselves. you try something or find something once, and it works so you do it again, again and again, until it becomes a stock phrase, a familiar presence in the bag of tricks. and maybe over time it changes, maybe it becomes one of those things that passes far enough through familiarity that it becomes strange to us again, we pause and feel confused at how well our own hands seem to know these contours, maybe they start to wear away, or maybe we start to wear away ourselves, we have to do things differently, not being able to rely upon the old sharpness. so they develop their own histories. but it's a false history unless we somehow view it in tandem with that of their counterparts, the non-tools - whatever it was that couldn't be added to the bag, whatever we couldn't bring ourselves to try to fake.

---

i feel averse to art that has no dead parts, no listlessnesses, no flubs - "nothing but the best". as if meaning and value were so rare that they could never be left to chance. a paranoia that diminishes the thing it's trying to celebrate, converting it to yet another luxury good to be stockpiled by those of means or exquisite sensitivity. i think the only thing you can do when you run across the good is to let it go again. i think whatever you risk losing in doing so is balanced out by the beauty of the notion that there's always more to find.

---

i like lucidity in art because it's an acknowledgement of its own limits - a lucidity that means marking the points where lucidity itself can only stop talking and start to gesture.

---

art as a lucky dip bag that holds equal chance of turning out to contain a plastic whistle, two lollipops, a magic ring or somebody's hand.

---

i like irony because it's a way of holding two ideas at once. imagine i'm sad, so sad, so forlorn, so overcome with weighty despair that all i can do is throw up into a trash can. now imagine a member of janitorial staff finding it the next day and going what the fuck? by putting these things together with different levels of emphasis you can have as comic or as tragicomic an effect as you could like - or if you like you can hold them both at a remove, emphasising the broad scope of your own vision. but the kind of irony i am interested in is whatever could hold both these things in suspense - each one chafing against the other, holding off on final meaning as if waiting for the scales to tip, like a make-your-own-allegory kit where the final part rolled under the couch.

---

sometimes i think about the old idea that wanting anything is folly, is childish, that as soon as you get it you'll just want something else. and there's something to this, but i hate that smug moralism, that defensive incuriosity, and i feel drawn to people brave enough to continue wanting even knowing how futile it might be. so maybe the value in chasing something is in getting to want something else, layer after layer of discarded promise building up, becoming stranger, less straightforward, the path of your desire getting cluttered with your own debris, having to wind, become sidetracked - like the snake from "snake", growing longer as it eats apples(?) in the void, forever surprising its own body at odd angles, circling its own old movements. is this what william blake meant by "if a fool would persist in his knowledge he would become wise"?? see how long you can avoid self knowledge while eating fruit. eve simulator 2000.

in magic wand there's a part where you find the magic wand, this thinly sketched signpost for alterity, desire, and it makes a weird noise and then the world is changed, in a way it's hard to read as good or bad. certainly more cluttered - the plains outside are now covered in debris, gigantic heads and hands, pictures of the demiurge. there doesn't seem like much to choose from between these places, so maybe the only thing you've gained is to have seen them both, the old and new, and have the old slide a little further into memory, the secret alchemical medium that can absorb all contradictions.

---

i always feel like to represent something is to travesty it, to turn it into an icon of the unliving - that to put whatever you most cherish, love or friendship or whatever, into a work of art is like putting it inside the mouth of a corpse. if these have value it's as human things while art draws its lustre from being inhuman. that being said… there's something moving about the frozen and unproblematized emblems of pleasure that bob around the screen in a videogame, the hearts and blue skies, candy worlds and golden bells. they become moving because nobody believes in them anymore, because there's no insistence that these things might actually represent the good - they're harmless tokens, light as air. in the very indifference with which they seem to regard how near or far they might be from actual happiness there's something tensionless and dreamy, forgetful and beautiful. we might suspect that a secret substitution's taken place.

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals and horiffic flashes of golden light.

I must've woken several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tastes like popcorn, only it's pudding. The pretty girl with the curly blonde hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

Annabeth - I presumed - looks around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't . . ."

Someone knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake, the blonde girl is gone.

A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

. . .

When I finally come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except that They're nicer than I'm used to. I am sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurts.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw, and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschingo cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against a porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week and his eyes are clouded with grief. Under one arm, Grover cradles a shoe box. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange t-shirt that says Camp Half-Blood.

Maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe Mom and Percy are okay. We're on vacation and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, Grover places the shoe box in my lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

"I -" I falter, looking at the horn.

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?" he asks.

"Mom. Percy. Are they really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There are grovers of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spreading out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the hige pine tree on top; even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My family is gone, nothing should be beautiful. Everything should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffles. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst saytr in the world." He moans, stomping his foot so hard that the Converse hi-tops come off. The inside of the who was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

As Grover struggles to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I think, Well, that settles it.

Grover is a saytr. I am ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that saytrs exist, or even minotaurs.

All that meant was that my mom and brother had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I'm alone.

Grover is still sniffling, and my grief subsides for a heartbeat.

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect Per-" the saytr's voice falters.

"Did my mother ask you to protect him?" I ask.

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least...I was."

"But why..." I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says gently. "Here." The saytr helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I almost recoil at the the taste, because I am expecting iced apple juice, but it's not that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Mom's cookies - homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with teh chips still melting. Drinking it, my entire body feels good and warm, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek or a bruise from my stepfather, and given me a cookie the way she'd always used to. She would always tell me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?" Grover sounds so wistful that I feel guilty.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighs. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw my stepfather a hundred yards."

"That's good," he says. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Grover takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

. . .

The porch wrapped all the way around a farmhouse.

My legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far; Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but I hold on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I couldn't let it go.

As we come around teh opposite end of the house, I catch my breath.

We must've been on teh north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters beautifully about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I can't comprehend what I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like the ancient Greek architecture I'd struggled to read about in books through my dyslexia - an open-air pavilion, and amphitheater, a circular arena - except that they all look brand new, their whie marble columns sparkling in the glittering sun. IN a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and saytrs played volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange t-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. SOme shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was still deleriouus, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl - Annabeth - who'd spoonfed me the popcorn-flavored pudding is leaning against the porch rail next to them.

I study the blond girl for a moment, and, as if she felt my eyes on her, she looks at me, amused. I feel my cheeks darken a little, and I turn to study the two other men.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black that it's almost purple. He looks like those paintings of baby angels - cherubs. He wears a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he could've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And that's Chiron." He points at the guy whose back is to me.

I recognize the tweek jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard that Percy had described to me.

"I suppose you must be my brother's Latin teacher?" I ask, and the man turns to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It seemed like the glint a teacher might have when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers the same letter. Through the mischievous glint, I catch the pain and grief in his eyes.

"Ah, good, (Y/n)," Mr. Brunner says, and I catch Annabeth studying me, as if she herself had felt the pang of grief that had pierced my heart when I'd mentioned my brother. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Mr. Brunner offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me with bloodshot eyes and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," I reply. I scoot a little farther away from him because if there was one think I'd learned from my stepfather, it's now to tell when an adult had been hitting alcohol.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

Annabeth steps forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Per -." He frowns apologetically, his expression softening. "Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on (Y/n)'s ," he puts emphasis on the name, "bunk? We'll be putting her in Cabin Eleven for now."

Annabeth replies, "Sure, Chiron."

Annabeth looks probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly hair, she is almost exactly what I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, but her eyes ruined the image. They are startling gray, like stormy clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she is analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

Annabeth glances at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. Then she says, "You drool in your sleep."

Then she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I say, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here too, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex–Mr. Brunner corrects. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Slightly confused, I look at teh director. "And Mr. D, sir . . ." I pause. "I suppose that stands for something as well?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cards, studying me as if I'd surprised him. "Yes, it does stand for something. But you don't go around using them for no reason."

"Right. Sorry, sir," I reply, and Mr. D looks at me again for a moment. I pause for another minute. "Chiron, sir. What is this place? What am I doing here?"

Grover, who had sat down at the card table, flinches every time a card lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles sympathetically at me.

"(Y/n)," he says. "Did your mother tell you nothing?" he asks.

"She said . . ." I remember, with a pang, Mom's sad eyes looking out over the sea. "She told me that she was afraid to send me here, even though ou - even though my father had warned her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's usually how they get killed." I flinch. "Young girl, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask politely.

He explains how you bid in pinochle, and so I do.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I question.

"No," Chiron decides. "You know that Grover is a satyr. You know" - Chiron points to the horn in the shoe box - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, my dear. What you may not know is that great powersat work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I take a moment to think about the former Latin teacher's words.

"I suppose that makes sense," I reply hesitantly.

Chiron looks at me expectantly. "Percy always said you were smart, (Y/n)," the man says with a glimmer of appreciation. "What else do you know?" he asks.

"Well," I think for a moment. "I suppose that, if it is true, then the gods would move with western civilization.

Mr. D looks at me and sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover trailing behind him.

"Is there a palace on Mount Olympus?" I ask Chiron.

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, (Y/n)."

I shift slightly in my seat. "Who am I, Chiron?" I ask. I pause, "Who are you?" I add hastily, " If you don't mind answering."

Chiron smiles gently. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get out of his wheelchair.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it?" But for now, we should get you a bunk in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet, and plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

Then, Chiron does rise from his wheelchair, but there is something odd about the way he does it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above the belt. At first, I wonder if he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the underwear isn't underwear; it is the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair, it's a box, and it must've been magic, because there was no way that a wheelchair could have contained all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobbly-kneed, with a polished hoof. Then another leg, then hindquarters, and then the box is empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse that had just sprung from the wheelchair; a huge white stallion. Where the horse's neck should be, the upper body of the teacher is smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur says, stretching. "I'd been cooped up in there for so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 2532 words

[deans-baby-momma]

Law & Love Chapter 6

THEN

If there is anything I’m sure of, it’s that Sheriff Beau Arlen will protect me and keep me safe. 

My hero doesn’t wear a cape; he wears Wranglers and a Stetson.

NOW

Beau jumps out of the truck; rushes around the front to my side, opening my door and helping me out.

"It's not much but 'mi casa es tu casa'." Beau never lets go of my hand as he shuts the truck door and leads me up the dirt pathway to the wooden deck set up in front of the metal Airstream. 

There are two Adirondack chairs to one side with a little metal table between them and an old dented green cooler situated behind it.

"I sometimes sit out here, listening to the sounds of nature and watching the stars twinkle when I've had a rough day," he tells me in a voice a little louder than a whisper.

"That's……nice," I look up at him with a smile. "Do you mind if we-" I trail off, motioning to the area and he nods.

"Sure. I know your nerves have to be frazzled."

I sit in the chair closest to us as he steps further and takes the other one. I close my eyes and just listen, hoping to relax and stop thinking about my stalker. 

The first thing I hear are the frog's chirping in the distance, telling me that there is probably a small pond or brook nearby. The next thing my ears pick up is the rustling of leaves high in the trees that surround us. Lastly, I can hear the low hum of an airplane somewhere overhead.

I lean back and rest my head on the back of the chair, my eyes still closed while I take it all in. Slowly, the rest of my body catches on and the tension begins to dissipate. After a few moments of just absorbing the utopian oasis, I open my eyes to find Beau watching me, studying me.

"What?" I ask, concerned.

"You're beautiful," he states matter-of-factly. 

"Thanks," I reply, feeling the heat of embarrassment warming my cheeks. "This place is Heaven on earth. How did you find it?"

"My buddy uses it as a hunting/fishing grounds. There's a lake about two miles that way-" he points to the left. "-trout, bass, catfish. But it's not the season for that, so he offered it while I fill in for Tubb." 

"Nice of your friend," I respond, closing my eyes again and leaning back to enjoy the peace and quiet.

I don't know how long we have sat here but when I open my eyes again, Beau has mimicked me and the sun is low in the western sky, pinks and oranges stretching out casting the last hints of daylight as it sinks rather rapidly now

I take the chance to study the dutiful sheriff in last dregs of sunlight  Sandy  brown hair that is a bit longer than I'm sure is protocol, lightly tanned freckled skin across his nose, and lips any woman would pay money to have.  His chin and jawline are proportional with strong, defined edges.  He is a fucking work of art!

I allow my eyes to glide over his body, from his broad chest and massive biceps that his shirt is straining to contain down across his stomach that is taut but plump. 

My eyes stop at the large belt buckle and I smile. What is it about cowboys and their buckle fetishes? The bigger the buckle, the more rugged? The more brawn?

As I consider those things my eyes naturally trail lower and land on the zipper area of his jeans. Even with the thick denim, there is no denying this God of a man is well-endowed and could ruin me for all others.

I'm not going to lie, I am totally down for that.

As my eyes travel further to his thick thighs, Beau startles me as he speaks, "Like what you see, darlin'?"  

My eyes cut up to his face to see his eyes half-open but the green of his irises shine through and there is a half smile/half smirk adorning his luscious lips. 

As we look at one another, his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and I see a peek of pink when he pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth.

I have never been one to tell a fib, honesty is the best policy and all that jazz, so I look him directly in his eyes and resolutely respond with a "Why, yes I do."

My whole body shakes at the intensity of the orgasm bearing down on me. With one more powerful, deep thrust my body explodes. My limbs go numb, my head feels as if it's floating in proximity to my neck and my skin tingles.

"Ohhhhh, Beauuuuuuu!" I moan in exhilaration. I hear him groan and as soon as the sound hits the auditory cortex of my brain my eyes snap open. 

For a second, I'm disoriented and conflicted. That's not my ceiling and this soft as hell mattress I'm on is not my bed. And wasn't Sheriff Beau Arlen just fucking the hell out of me?

I hear a hitch of breath beside me and I turn to see Beau laying on his side, facing away from me. His arm is under the sheet but I can see the muscles constrict with his movements. Is he doing what I think he's doing?!

Suddenly, the movements stop and I see his whole body tense before a shiver sends the sheet further down his arm. I can now see clearly that his reach is going to his groin area. 

Fuck, that's hot! I hate to admit it but I'm saddened to have missed the show. 

After, what I can only assume is him leaning forward to grab something to clean up, Beau turns onto his back and freezes as he realizes I'm awake. 

"Uhhhh," he stutters. "How long have you been awake?"

"Well, I apparently missed the prolonged version  of the story but the ending looked pretty fulfilling," I say with a smile.

What surprises me is the tinge of pink that colors his cheeks and the tops of his ears.  Is he embarrassed?

"Sorry Y/N," he apologizes. "I'm really trying to be a gentleman here but I have a beautiful woman in my bed; who is moaning my name, and making such pretty sounds, I couldn't help myself."

The sentiment is endearing and charming and it warms my heart but the dull ache between my thighs controls everything, especially my mouth.

"You know, I've never been into gentle men," I put emphasis on the last two words, hoping he catches the double entendre.

Beau closes his eyes and groans. "Darlin', I promise we will get there but not before I take you on a proper date. And that can't happen while you have someone out there, hunting you like prey.”

"Believe me, I would love nothing better than to make love to you and claim you but……just not tonight, okay?"

The sincerity and honesty is not only his words but his eyes and that fills me with warmth and desire. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @spnbaby-67 @tftumblin @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @deanwanddamons @supraveng @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @deans-spinster-witch @yvonneeeeeeee

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 45

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Time for that cute date with Magnus! :^)

Author’s Note: I was gonna release this chapter either tomorrow or next Wednesday, but here it is early, as a little Halloween Spirit's Eve present!! (Totally beating myself up rn for not lining up the Spirit's Eve chapter to come out today.. ough)

Anyway, there's a lotta RomRas referenced in the first half of this one! It’s pure, cavity-inducing fluff >:3 And some sillies, because of course there is.

I hope y’all enjoy it, take care, and happy Halloween! x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

After freshening up in Magnus’ restroom, I jog back downstairs to the main floor, where he’s patiently waiting for me to head out.

After I slip on my shoes, he takes both of my hands in his, calmly stroking my knuckles with his thumbs. “Ready?” 

I hum my affirmation, nodding and smiling at the handsome wizard in front of me. As per usual when I’m being teleported, I close my eyes, saving myself from any potential freak-outs. I’m curious to know what it looks like to teleport, but today isn’t that day… Or tomorrow. Baby steps, (y/n).

I realize we must be at our destination when I feel a soft breeze against my cheeks and hear the sounds of nature.

The air smells fresh and crisp, and as Magnus steps aside and I open my lids, I’m met with a beautiful, serene forest, like something out of a fairytale. The pine trees directly ahead of us are coated in green moss and beige fungi, and as my eyes scan upward, I notice that there’s a vast cliff behind them, with more woodland up top.

As my gaze pans right, I see a waterfall that drops onto a small, elevated piece of land before creating a new and thicker cascade just below it. There’s a pale rainbow forming around the foam at the bottom, making every straying droplet look like glitter bouncing through the air. The crystal-clear water of the river it flows into shines iridescently under the sunlight, and as I turn around to follow its path, I realize it’s all gathering into a vast lake full of fish I’d never known existed. Some are purple, with pointy pink fins; others teal, with what looks like small rubies and emeralds and sapphires embedded into their scales. 

Completing my full circle, I peek behind Magnus, noticing a similar pattern to what I’d already seen: a long and wavy river, waterfalls, and trees galore. When I finally look back up to him, he’s peering down at me. His cheeks are pink but his eyes stay maroon, and he has that cozy, lovestruck gaze he usually does when looking my way. 

“Where are we?“ My voice comes out quiet, as if speaking any louder would somehow disrupt the peace.

“Grenville Falls,” he answers. “A forest of magical origin that lies far from civilization, and one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever come across in my travels.” I guess that explains why it’s so serene here. Humans haven’t been around to taint it yet. “Until now, most of the magic we’ve discussed has been almost purely pragmatic.”

“Almost.” I give him a shit-eating smirk.

My brother in Yoba is seriously trying to pull the “Magic must be used responsibly!!!” bullshit after casting spells on me for his own horny entertainment on several occasions. Magnus laughs before looking around at the grove we're standing in.

“Buuut,” he pointedly continues, “we’ve only barely touched on the simpler joys that magic can bring.” He turns back to me and laces our fingers together, a soft grin slightly plumping the warm apples of his cheeks. “I realize that, spiritual interference or not, it must have been hard to befriend me – let alone begin seeing me romantically – given how suspect our first interactions must have made me seem, alongside how out of touch I am in current social practices.”

Oh. So he really had almost no idea that I was unwillingly swooning right off the bat? I thought he’d read my mind plenty back then… maybe it was less than I’d assumed. 

I give his hand a reassuring squeeze. Maybe he knows now, if anything – and if not, I could always just tell him when he’s not, like, pouring his entire heart out to me.

Magnus continues, “And yet you took the trouble to give me a chance, my dear, in spite of all that stood in our way. You’re so incredibly precious to me, and I wanted to give you even a sliver of the joy that you’ve brought into my life. So,” he sighs, reaching into his shirt pocket, “Although I don’t have a bouquet, as per tradition with the humans of the Valley, I thought you deserved to be properly and officially courted.” Magnus pulls out a fucking ring, and upon seeing the whites of my eyes, he chuckles. “I promise, this is not a marriage proposal.”

“Oh thank god.” I breathe out a nervous laugh, my right palm resting over my heart.

“But I am asking if you’d do me the honors of being my… girlfriend?” Magnus looks off to the side briefly, tilting his head as his eyes pinken. “I’ve always preferred the term ‘partner,’ but I’m not sure how common of a label that is in these times.” He shrugs, bringing his gaze back to mine, and beaming with again-maroon eyes upon seeing me enthusiastically and vigorously nodding my head. 

“‘Partner’ is fine, I like ‘partner,’“ I squeak out. My cheeks are on fire, I can’t tell if it’s more from the thick blush coating them or from smiling so wide. 

I jump to koala myself onto Magnus, unable to resist pecking his cheek and burying my face into his neck before accepting his gift. As always with physical contact, he barely needs time to think as he wraps his arms around me for support, one hand resting on my lower spine and the other against the back of my hair.

“I honestly didn’t think you were gonna ask,” my mumbles muffle into his collar. “I just assumed it was some sorta elemental tradition for sex to solidify a relationship, or something.”

“That is true in many cases, actually,” he confirms, setting me back on my feet. “Luckily, we more mindful beings have a say in the matter.” 

Now that I’m not frazzled by what seemed like an engagement waiting to happen, I can actually look at the ring – which Magnus had looped onto his pinky for safe keeping during our embrace – up close. It’s fucking gorgeous, oh my god. A small moss agate is clasped against a gold band, and the bits holding the stone in place look like thin vines. Seems almost too delicate to wear.

Holding the ring between his left thumb and forefinger, he says, “That necklace Lady Welwick gifted you is an artifact imbued with her clairvoyant magic to aid your clairvoyant magic, generally speaking. But artifacts can be made to assist you in any aspect of magic, or of life itself, really.” Bringing his right hand up to his right earring – with his usual long, red ones adorning both ears – he explains, “These are similar, in that they provide a defense I don’t normally have. Although young for my kind, I’m still… er. I am an old man.” 

My lips twitch as I attempt to hide a smirk. Magnus notices and chuckles.

He shushes me teasingly before continuing, “I don’t have the same oomph in me that I used to, so I wear these to keep myself safer in case anything should go awry. The rings I often wear serve a similar purpose — but those, I change to accommodate what is on my schedule each day.”

I nod in understanding, eyes wide with intrigue as Magnus brings his hand down to match his left. 

“I conjured this with the same purpose as my earrings. I’ve yet to teach you defensive or combat magic, and while you may hopefully never be put in such a way that someone or something could threaten your well-being, this will offer a veil of protection, as well as invigorate you once you’re able to arcanely fend for yourself.”

“That’s so cool,” I mutter. “Thank you, Magnus,” I smile up at him. Swooning completely. “I love it, it’s perfect.”

“It’s the least I could do for you, my love,” he offers, his expression mirroring mine. He then asks, presenting an upturned palm to me. “May I?”

I nod, opting to place my right hand in his. Rather than looking down at our hands, I keep observing him:

The way he mutters something about hoping it fits under his breath.

The soft squint in his eyes.

The way his bottom lip rests subtly beneath his top teeth.

How his almost nervous expression turns into a bright grin as the ring is slipped on in a flawless fit. That familiar spark I experienced when putting on my necklace for the first time buzzes through my newly-accessorized digit, but I ignore it in favor of watching Magnus for just a bit longer.

Happy, dense crows feet form at the corners of his eyes as he pans them up to mine, before they widen slightly, his irises turning rosy as he notices that I’m staring. I simply smile up at him. The crinkles next to his eyes come back and he chuckles, taking my cheeks in his hands before leaning way down to softly plant a kiss on my forehead, and then my lips.

I giggle out of our smooch.

“What?”

“This feels like an actual proposal, honestly.”

His brows furrow. “Did I do too much?”

I get back on my tippy toes and pull him back down to me before he’s out of reach, whispering, “No way,” before stealing his lips again.

_______________

After all the cheesy stuff, Magnus summoned us a picnic! It took him a bit, and I needed to lend him some mana as he had to teleport it all from storage at home, but he managed. The blanket he brought for us to sit on has a purple gingham pattern, and the food and drinks were rested within a stereotypically tan, woven picnic basket. 

Encased within the basket was a large bottle of cherry wine, a few empty cups, and some snacks. Mostly charcuterie-type things, like cheeses, fruits, and sliced meats, but he included some raw veggies and a few dips for ‘em as well. When I asked about the extra cups, Magnus said that the water here is perfectly safe for drinking, and that he added those so we wouldn’t need to mix the water and wine at all.

As soon as he told me that, I grabbed a cup and rushed over to the river. I’ve never had fresh water like this before – and holy fuck, it was so nice. Never tasted anything like it.

Fast-forwarding to right now, we’re laying side-by-side, lazily snacking on the few crackers and apple slices that are left. Both feeling all silly and happy and wine-drunk. About halfway through the bottle’s contents, we abandoned our cups in favor of occasionally passing the glass vessel back and forth to each other.

Speaking of which, now seems like a good time to top myself up!

I lean up onto my elbows and grab the bottle by its neck, chugging a few gulps back. Magnus, who’s peacefully lying still with red cheeks and closed eyes, startles a bit when I tap his arm with the bottle. I smile down at him. 

“Sorry,” I giggle, “want more?”

He nods, then shuts his eyes again. “Feed it to me.”

My giggle turns into an ugly snort-laugh. “Why?” 

“I’m sooo comfortable, (y/n)…”

“Too bad! It’s dangerous t’drink laying down.”

Magnus rebuttals, “I love danger.”

“Why are you lying?” 

“Who, me?” He opens just one eye, smugly smiling up at me. 

“Don’t play dumb.”

“To think my beloved partner would accuse me of such a horrible thing…” he trails off, sighing dramatically while closing his eye again.

I know Magnus is only teasing, but I still pout with furrowed brows. What a little shit! It’s at least nice to learn that he’s a coherent drunk, instead of the bumbling mess I am.

“Y’know what? Fine!” 

I take a little wine in my mouth, then lean down, meeting Magnus with my lips against his. A surprised hum escapes him, but he melts into the kiss regardless. I stay still, so as to not blow my own cover (this would totally blow it easily in most cases, but right now, he doesn’t seem to notice). Finally, the moment Magnus’ lips part, I let the wine trickle onto his tongue. It’s barely even half of a sip, so it should be safe enough.

Another startled noise emits from the wizard’s throat, but he quickly adapts, swallowing the wine before bringing a large palm to the back of my head. Kissing me harder and deeper. Catching me off-guard. Oh boy.

I put a palm against his chest to steady myself, feeling my already-toasty cheeks heating up some more when he adds tongue. Noticing that my lower half is heating up too, I pull away, rolling over to lay on Magnus’ belly. It would feel wrong to do The Sex in such a seemingly sacred place. 

My head jostles as Magnus sighs contentedly, and I turn onto my side to look at him. 

“You’re s’handsome…” I murmur, reaching over to trace his jaw.

He raises his head a smidge to meet my gaze. The little bit of a double-chin this gives him is adorable. Makes me laugh. After a lazy smile, he lies flat again. As he moves, he reaches a hand to my hair and begins running his fingers through it, occasionally soothing my scalp with some light scratches. I hum, thoroughly enjoying how it feels.

Magnus sighs again, then dreamily murmurs, “It’s truly remarkable how lucky I’ve gotten meeting you.”

Smiling, I shake my head. “It’s more—“ I swallow back a small hiccup, “S’more fate than luck, no?”

“I suppose, but it feels lucky, nonetheless.”

I pop the last bit of apple into my mouth before letting myself relax into his touch. After a few moments of thought, I wonder out loud, “What kinda hobbies do y’have other than magic?”

Magnus doesn’t respond right away, but knowing how little time he has for things not magicky, I don’t rush him. 

“I’m not so sure, honestly…” he eventually answers. It comes out quiet, almost whispered. “Gardening, I suppose, although that is often tied to my magic in some way.” 

I frown, then suggest, “So let’s figure something out together.”

He peers down at me. “Anime,” he announces determinedly.

“Wh-“ I cut myself off to laugh, “What?!”

“I would like t’watch anime.”

Maybe it’s the booze, but I hug my tummy as I roll to lay on my side, curling in on myself with giggles. I almost knock the wine over, and Magnus quietly tuts at my clumsiness.

“Why don’t we start you off with manga instead?,” I suggest once I’ve relaxed. “Might like it better.”

“Manga?”

“Anime, but in book form.”

“Oh, that sounds splendid!”

“You read it backwards, just so you know. It’s usually published in Gotoroan, an’ translated for distribution elsewhere.” I emphasize the last two words with a vague wave of my hand.

“I can do that.”

I close my eyes for a few moments, the conversation coming to an abrupt end by my spinning head. “Is there a spell t’cure drunkenness?”

“I don’t believe so.”

I groan, rolling some more to nuzzle my face into Magnus’ chest. 

“Although,” he adds, “a cheeky dip over there might help us sober up.”

“What about the fish?”

He snorts. “Why would they care?”

…Y’know. I was worried, at first, about the potential danger of swimming with these funky lookin’ fish. But something about how candidly Magnus responded convinced me that I should’ve been more worried about the critters’ opinions. 

And you know what? He’s sooo right! Why would they care? Why should I care?!

I flop off of Magnus, laying flat against the blanket for a moment. He stumbles onto his feet, then assists me in doing the same, before beginning to strip. 

My mouth falls open, a little bewildered. For some reason I thought he’d conjure up swimsuits, or that we’d swim in our underwear, or something like that. Promptly, I begin lifting my sweater over my head. 

I observe, “We’re raw dogging this lake, huh?” The chilly air gives my skin goose bumps, but I don’t mind, given how much alcohol raises my temp.

“What are we ‘dogging?’”

I snort. “Oh. Slang.”

“For what?” he asks, stepping out of his boxers. He stumbles a bit and I hold his arms to stabilize him. Shamelessly give him a once-over, too. 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I’m very old, (y/n).”

“Not old enough!” 

Seeing me struggle out of my skirt, Magnus offers the same assistance I gave him. Then, he glares at me. Silently, but not even telepathically, telling me he’s gotta know. Sighing and remembering his yearn to be hip and cool, I give in.

“Fine. Sex. But like, without protection or whatever.”

“Ah… we are indeed raw dogging this lake!” 

I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “Hell yeah we are!”

He holds his hand out to me, and practically drags me with him upon contact. I stumble a bit, then jog, wanting to match his pace. Don’t have the time or coordination at the moment to hold my boobs in place, which has me feeling a little self-conscious…

The water shocks me out of any negative thoughts though.

“Holy shit, s’freezing!” I strengthen my hold on Magnus as if it’ll steady my shivers. 

“It’s not that bad.” His teeth are chattering. 

“Liar.” I splash him with my free hand. He lets out a tiny yelp and tries to pull away, but I keep my grip firm, attempting to hit him with a few more watery snipes. 

“Oh, if it’s a war you want, so be it!” 

“What?”

“Hold your breath,” he warns before promptly yanking me down.

I scream out bubbles, laughing in delirium due to both the sudden change in temperature and Magnus’ own distorted under-water laughter. After a short moment of observing how ethereal he looks — his purple hair floating around him, the sparkle of his pale gray skin being tinted blue, the otherworldly fish circling around us — I shake my hand free and promptly bring myself back up to the surface. He follows my lead. 

“Damn it,” I continue to giggle, repositioning my wet hair out of my face. Swiping some water from my eyelashes, I once again mentally thank Yoba for waterproof makeup. “So cold…”

“This seems to be doing the trick though, wouldn’t you agree?”

Unfortunately, he’s right. I feel surprisingly more level-headed now than when I was laying on him in a wine-driven stupor. “Yeah, yeah…” 

I look around, admiring the beauty of our surroundings again, now from a different angle. I don’t notice anything new, but it’s still just as pretty, nonetheless. 

Feeling something tickling my ankle, I look down into the water, watching as a sparkly blue fish swims around me. I giggle. 

“Hey buddy,” I murmur, reaching down to try and stroke its scales. The movement scares it away, though. “Aw, man.”

“‘Twas a good effort.”

I meet Magnus’ fond gaze and furrow my eyebrows. “Not good enough.”

“Maybe someday.”

I sigh. “What are these fish, anyway?”

My partner shrugs. “Many are your typical river fish, such as carp or bass, whose forms have been altered due to the magical properties of the area.”

“Huh,” I grin, returning my gaze to the fish that swim a mere few feet away from us. “That’s sick.” I look back up at Magnus, quickly diverting my attention again when I notice the dreamy stare he’s still boring into me. My cheeks heat up, warming my whole body a little, as if I’m not skinny dipping in an almost freezing-cold river.

Then, my mind ruins the moment — as it typically does — suddenly drifting to my fish friend’s scales, then back to the weird note I received earlier. 

“Can these fish’s scales be made into ink, or something?”

“Perhaps.” With a brow furrow and head tilt, he asks, “Why do you ask?”

“Um…” I think for a moment.

Do I tell him? Well, I suppose there’s no backing out now, really. He’s looking at me so expectantly, and he could read my mind if I were to lie too poorly. 

“I got this letter earlier,” I go on, “and the ink looked really similar to that blue fella that was here before, right down to the way it shimmers. Never seen anything like it.”

Magnus frowns. “I hope it hasn’t come from one of them.” 

A particularly small fish swims closely by the old wizard, this one a vibrant purple. It almost matches his hair. He reaches a gentle hand towards it, and it doesn’t back away, unlike the blue fish who graced me a moment ago. Lucky… 

“It’s been a mutual decision between the Ministry and First Slash that places such as this remain unscathed.” He peers back up at me, letting the guppy move on. “Who was its sender?”

I shrug. “Didn’t have a name or return address. I didn’t feel any energy from it, either.”

He hums in thought. “I’ll take a look, if you don’t mind the intrusion. Maybe I can discern who or what it’s from.”

I offer a small salute. “You got it, boss.” Then, I sniffle. It’s super boogery. I better not be getting sick from this…

“Let’s get you out of here,” my partner prompts, noticing my… goopy state.

Magnus wades over to me, reaching out a hand. I’m surprised it’s so warm as I clasp mine into it, and take advantage of his body heat, looping my arm through his and pressing my bare body closer as he guides us to the shore.

“We’ll head back once you're warm and dry, alright?”

I grin up at him. “Sounds good to me.”

[mantis-dea]

When a Good Deed Causes a Series of Unfortunate Events - Chapter 3 - Cool Magic Trick, Bro

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

I won't be using tags for the next few chapters because I don't want to overhaul the tags with this slow-starting story. I know it can be annoying.

After Chapter 4, the pace will pick up and the romance will start. The first 4 chapters were chapters I wrote about 6 months ago. I picked this story back up about a month ago. I want to finish this story, but I wanted it to be less slow paced. So I am apologizing in advance for the sudden change in pace.

I am hoping to knock this story out in 20 chapters or less, but we will see what happens. Honestly, maybe I'll even change the first 4 chapters to follow the pace of the rest of the story. I just worked so hard on the four chapters that I don't have the heart yet :(

You sit in a barstool on the patron side, munching down on a turkey sandwich, staring at the empty seats in the establishment. You are the sole worker at the bar, once again. Gwess had to leave a few hours earlier, her reasoning being something came up with her pet parrot. Fortunately, no patrons have entered the domain for the past couple of hours, so you were able to finish all the night-shift tasks, meaning you didn’t have to stay around to finish anything; you can leave once the hand touches the two. You stare at the clock hanging up on the wall.

1:48 a.m.

Twelve more minutes.

Your attention draws back to the empty chairs. Creedence does make a profit from this bar, but it isn’t nearly as popular as other bars around here. There are two reasonings. A, this is a relatively new bar that has yet to establish more loyal patrons, and B, Lapalton has mostly party bars.

That’s where Creedence’s bulb on top of his head flickered. He realized there weren’t many bars for the businessmen to discuss business; he created this bar in the hopes to attract them or for people who want a calmer atmosphere after work. You have no doubt in your mind that under Creedence’s guide the SPW Bar will one day become a popular bar.

1:59 a.m.

You stand up to throw away the saran wrap that your now eaten sandwich was sitting upon. While you do complain about this job often, you do enjoy the laid-back atmosphere. Despite getting a few bad apples every night, most of them are well-mannered, even when tipsy. Still, you do not want to make a career out of this occupation. This is just temporary.

Assuming no one will enter the bar, you make your way towards the employee-only area to shut off the lights and to grab your things.

Ding

The nastiest scowl appears on your face when you hear the entrance doorbell chimes. Quick to fix your face, you turn to face your patron with a polite -albeit clearly forced – smile.

The tall man stood near the door with a lovestruck smile that sent the hairs on your arms screaming to be let off your arm. His outfit reminds you an awful lot of Dr. Strange, except with a black cape and dress pants. Purple arrows ran horizontally down his white shirt.

Your eyes look up at the clock.

2:00 a.m.

You give a genuine smile, this time from relief. “Sorry sir. no more patrons for tonight.”

He chuckles, “A drink being served by a beautiful lady does sound good right about now,” he speaks with an Italian accent.

Italian. Accent.

You attempt to take the most silent gulp you can muster. Though, you doubt that he would not be able to tell under his scrutinizing eyes.

Oh no, I’m gonna get Godfather’d.

Leisurely striding over, he takes a seat right closest to you and slides closer. “Though, I’m here for you, Miss Carina.”

You blink a few times before pointing a finger at yourself. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I think you know why I’m here.”

There is no way you can get away from lying with this guy. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale. You open your eyes and look directly into the man’s eyes.

“I was coming home from my shift. As you can see, my job keeps me late. I saw him chilling in the alley, slumped over. He was uninjured, but unconscious. I felt bad, so I gave him an umbrella and called an ambulance. I don’t know what happened to him after that, or if he’s even alive.”

He hums, “Did he have anything on him? Did you see anything around him?”

Yes.

“No.”

He leans in closer, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “You know, I have a special knack for telling if someone is lying.”

Stay calm. Stay cool.

“Cool. However, I am not lying. I don’t like dealing with extra shit since my life is already shit. Listen, I really don’t want to stay here longer. Please.”

He stares at you for longer.

“Well, I can see you are telling the truth,” he says, his eyes never leaving yours. "My apologies for holding you up, Miss. Have a wonderful night.”

With that, he turns and heads for the exit. The doorbell chimes again as he disappears into the night, but the sense of unease lingers.

Your heart continues to race, pounding in your chest like a drum. Each breath feels shallower than the last, as if the air in the bar had turned into toxic gas. Your trembling fingers clutch the edge of the nearest barstool. Your thoughts race a million miles a second.

Something is off.

Something is not right.

You dare not look behind you, unprepared for what you might see.

The silence in the bar is deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the echo of your own rapid breaths.

You know you should leave. Take the back doors and sprint. Yet, your legs feel like lead. Your gut screams at you to run, to escape this place, but fear and curiosity roots you to the spot.

With one final gulp, you finally muster the courage to glance over your shoulder.

“WHAT THE-“

“That’s the ear of the man who ratted on you.”

Your head snaps to the owner of the voice, eyes widening in disbelief. There, leaning casually against the doorframe to the kitchen, stands the man who just finished interrogating you.

“The homeless man.” He strides over with a skip in his step, “You know, the one who was swishing the broken bottle around like a mad man. Yeah, he saw everything. From you giving an umbrella to a passed-out blondie to you screeching and passing out then picking something up near the trash can.”

As he comes centimeters of your trembling form, he slips a hand into his pocket. With one finger, he lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his unnerving gaze.

“I’m not one for beating up harmless women. It goes against my gentlemen’s code. I just want what you picked up, and I’ll be on my merry way out.”

A lightbulb lights up above your head.

Avoiding his piercing gaze, you ask with a quivering voice, “Promise?”

“Promise.” He replies, his surprisingly easygoing grin never wavering.

You scratch your cheek with a slightly trembling finger. “It’s in my bag. In the employee locker in the back.”

You move past him. Surprisingly, he let you do so; you’re acting off. You know he knows that. You slip into the kitchen. Though your heart still pounds, a newfound determination flares in your eyes. In the dimly lit kitchen, you make your way to the back door. You open it quietly and then sprint into the night. Thank Danny DeVito you left the door unlocked when you took the trash out.

 You ran, not towards your apartment, of course, but to the next best course of action to scare him off—a nearby crack house.

You sprint across the street, to take a shortcut through Paisley Park. However, before you could feel a moment of relief, a rough hand snatches your arm.

The man, now wearing a pouting, holds up your satchel. “Come on, Carina.” Much to your disgust, he drops your bag and strokes your cheek. “I really don’t want to hurt you.”

Panic surges through you. It seems he went through your belongings, so how did he catch up to you so fast?

He hums, “Perhaps it is at your apartment?” his face lights up as he changes the awkward stance he held you both in. He loops his arm into yours and holds your hand.

What the fuck is going on.

“Why don’t we go together, yes?”

You don’t budge an inch and stare at the man. Perhaps it would just be better giving the man the item. You have this gut feeling that keeping it will only cause more trouble in the future.

At the same token, you feel the need to keep it safe. You are not sure why, but the thought of handing it over leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

In desperation, you attempt to wiggle yourself out of his grip. However, he is having none of it, and decides to just hug you to prevent you from moving.

That’s when you saw it. Amidst the struggling, you catch a glimpse of a ladybug passing your form. As you follow its movements, wondering what it’s doing this late at night, you notice a purple arrow shooting out from his feet and stretching forward. Both you and the man are carried along by the arrow's incredible speed until you reached the tip of the arrowhead. Inside the narrow arrow that barely was the width of the man, you were moving astonish fast; you estimate around 30 mph. As you approach the arrowhead, the arrow would shrink until it completely disappeared upon reaching the arrowhead.

What.

Your mind reels in shock and disbelief. What in the world did you just witness? You look up at the man, ready to bombard him with a million questions, until you see… Well, what the hell are you seeing? A purple face with zigzagging yellow and purple arrows sticking out underneath it. That is literally the best and only description you can give.

WHAT.

Before you can even begin to comprehend this surreal sight, the man interrupts your cognitive thinking, “Carina, will you be telling me which apart- “

Then, he spots what caught your attention, and his demeanor takes a drastic turn. He throws you down to the ground. Your eyes scrunch up in pain as you go down with an “oof.”

He shouts, “YOU!” with tears welling up in his eyes. “When were you going to tell me you were a Stand User! You cheater!”

W.H.A.T.

He stomps towards you angerly, fists crackling. Standing in front of you, his tears fall onto your pants, soaking them. “Of course. You’re a cheater. I should’ve known. Well,” He sniffles, “You know what cheaters deserve?”

Your voice trembles as you respond, “Not death?”

“DEATH.”

The man swings a fist in your direction. However, it never finds its mark. Vines shot up from the ground, ensnaring him. The verdant vines continue to emerge, partially obscuring your view of the man.  

Your mind races with a mixture of astonishment and confusion. Just as you are about to shout another “what,” you hear fast approaching footsteps. Once again, your night takes a bizarre turn.

Standing behind you is the same man whom you gave the umbrella to last night. No longer is in tattered clothes, he now wears black dress pants accompanying his neatly rolled-up, white long-sleeve button down. His shirt has a few purposeful top buttons undone, showing a sneak-peak of his toned chest.

He extends his hand towards you, and you accept it, albeit with a dumbfound expression. The ground shudders beneath your feet, giving birth to more colossal green roots that now completely obstruct your view of the other man.

You turn your gaze back to the blond-haired man, who conducts a swift examination of your body, searching for any signs of injury.

You give him a soft smile and take a step back, reassuring him, “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine, promise. Thank you for helping me.”

His eyes lock with yours as he responds, “This incident is my fault. I sincerely apologize for the trouble I have caused you.”

You stand there, one hand rubbing up and down the opposite arm. Unsure on what to say, you shift your attention back to the vines. Their continuous growth gradually slows down with the passing of time. After another minute or so, they begin to wither and crinkle, eventually disintegrating into ash. The vines no longer obstruct your view. However, your captor is nowhere to be seen.

“So, uh,” you slowly turn your attention back onto the blond-haired man. It becomes evident that his gaze had never left you. “You, uh, you killed him?” you ask.

 “Yes,” he replies calmly, “I assumed you did not want to see a corpse, so I moved it away from this area.”

You shrug, “Eh, he deserves it. I mean, who knows what that creep would’ve done if you didn’t stop him. Better him than some other innocent victim, right?”

His lips part before closing his eyes, seemingly lost in thought. Honestly, you are having a difficult time getting a proper read on him. “You would be correct.”

Once again, you two stand in silence. However, this time, he decides to look up at the moon, perhaps to give you some space as he may have sense your discomfort.

Your attention turns to your watch.

2:20 a.m.

Deciding that standing around getting bitten by mosquitoes is no fun, you walk over to your bag, pick it up, and then turn to the man.

“You coming, or you just gonna stand there staring at the moon?”

 He nods and starts walking towards you. You head back to the bar to clean up the mess. Mysteriously, the ripped-off ear is gone. You make a mental note of the missing ear, you would look around for it now, but you have more important issues at hand. Besides, you’re too tired to care enough about its disappearance, and there’s a good chance your captor put it in his pocket to use as a scare source. You lock the bar, and begin the journey home, with the blonde-hair man walking right beside you.

It is incredibly dumb to have a stranger follow you home. However, the late hours left you with limited options, and you want answers and hot chocolate. Besides, his demeanor, despite it being a brief interaction, seems far from that of a bad person. His genuine concern for any injuries you might have sustained during the encounter is reassuring. He does not seem like a bad person.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten your name.” You begin, introducing yourself first.

“Giorno Giovanna.”