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authurials · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 ... 2/5

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 . aemond had never allowed himself to covet--not until now that is

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 . one / three / four / five

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 . 18+ situations ( MINORS DNI ! ), unintentional voyeurism, solo masturbation, accidental exhibitionism, strong language

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 . here is day four of my 12 days of house of the dragon celebration and part two of my aemond targaryen x f!reader miniseries! things are heating up between the two would-be-lovers already and we still have three parts to go. what do you think is going to happen next? i’ve decided to take the day off tomorrow from writing and posting so i can recharge a bit after a particularly exhausting week of work--i also have some last minute christmas shopping to do AND other errands so i’m feeling a tad overwhelmed; this does mean my helaena one-shot has been dropped from the lineup but i’ve decided to revamp the idea and write it at a later date when i feel more inspired to write for my girl. on sunday you’ll be getting part two to my harwin x reader miniseries, candy cane! so be sure to stay tuned and let me know your thoughts on what you’ve read so far; also, finished this right around midnight but i’m still counting it for the 16th lmao

𝐏𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 . white rose

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 tucked into the waist pocket of your apron, a delightfully pinkish red camelia that you had found on one of the garden benches during your usual rounds. One might just assume that it had happened upon the stone bench in an act of nature, but you knew better–you knew it had been put there specifically for you. The camelia was only one of many you had been happening across for nearly a fortnight, starting with the lily of the valley in your chamber. Since then you had received some azaleas, baby’s breath, begonias, and your favorite, bleeding hearts; there were others as well, each placed carefully in a beautiful arrangement on your bedside table. Some were beginning to wilt from lack of sunshine while the newer ones still had a few days left in them, their sweet smelling scents mingling perfectly together like their own brand of perfume. At first, you had assumed it was one of the younger gardeners under your father leaving you the flowers or perhaps one of the hedge knights that frequented the grounds trying to secure patronage in the capital. None of them had quite caught your eye as a potential secret admirer however, at most they merely threw polite smiles your way before they moved along and out of your life forever.

As you passed a handsome bronze-haired boy, you instinctively glanced over your shoulder to assess his form, catching his eye as he did the same. Again, there was that polite smile as he nodded his head in acknowledgement, simply turning to face forward once more as he continued on his way. Sighing, you did the same, not having felt anything when you took note of the color of his eyes or the dimple in his cheek. He was quite good-looking, you would admit, but there was no resounding connection that stayed with you as you carried on about your rounds in the garden. No, you would be able to tell if you happened upon your secret admirer whether that be by chance or on purpose; you knew he would reveal himself eventually, why wouldn’t he? But you couldn’t deny that you were a bit impatient to know who it was.

Thoughts consumed with flowers and speculation, you took no note of the fact that you had an extra shadow on that day; not far behind you, separated from your person by a thick row of blooming pale pink carnations, walked a certain one-eyed prince. Making sure to stay enough behind you so that you wouldn’t take easy note of his presence, Aemond followed you with his hands folded behind his back; singular eye locked on you, a slight smirk curved his lips as he took in your dreamy expression. You softened in his absence, no longer cold and guarded as you walked the familiar tended paths of the royal garden; and each day since the lily of the valley, he had come to watch you if only for a short time before tending to his other duties–if only to assure himself that you’d received his latest gift. And sure enough he saw the newest bloom he had picked earlier in the dew-lit morning peeking out of the pocket of your apron skirt, its petal bobbing gently with each step you took. The camelia had called to him that day, a symbol of his growing affections for the sharp-tongued and quick-witted girl who had beguiled him with her boldness–with her audacity.

He wanted to break you, to have you desire him as he desired you–a fire so intense that it was maddening, an obsession that if left unchecked threatened to consume him completely. As a boy it had been but a childish sort of like, a pointless crush that he had forgotten about until the moment he saw you again. Never had he dared to hope, to dream, to covet such a thing that was supposed to be below him–not until now; now all he did was covet and desire as he followed you deeper into the gardens, your path clearly taking you to the greenhouse and workshop your father kept. When you were children you would take him there after much convincing on your part and show off all the new seedlings your father was trying to grow so he could incorporate them into the gardens; most were incredibly rare specimens, shipped all the way from Pentos and Essos and perhaps even further. You’d prattled off all that your father had told you about them, eidetic memory storing such information as if it were a precious tome that needed safe-keeping, all the while gripping tightly to Aemond’s hand with your small sweaty one. It had disgusted him at times, but for some reason he rarely found it in himself to pull away, especially when you would look over your shoulder at him with that crooked smile.

Stopping where the row of carnations ended, Aemond watched you continue on without him, not a care in the world as you hummed a melancholy tune; just as you were about to disappear from his view, he took note of the way you plucked the camelia from your pocket, head turning just enough to the side so he saw how you lifted it to your nose to sniff it. Smirk widening, he backed away slowly and turned to leave, assured that his plan was taking proper effect. All he needed to do now was reveal himself to you as your ‘secret admirer’--he knew you had been searching, eyes thoughtful as of late as you would take in your surroundings, waiting for your faceless would-be-lover to reveal himself. You were ready to know, that he was certain of, he just needed to set the scene appropriately before revealing himself to you–

But first, he had other less interesting obligations to attend to courtesy of his ever helpless family.

Leaving the gardens, he headed to the Tower of the Hand where his mother and grandfather were supposed to be awaiting his arrival. He knew he was late and usually that was unfounded for him–always the responsible one, the dutiful son, the wasted potential of a second born prince; however for once he could not find it in himself to care, as duty had become tasteless in his mouth, his mother’s praise and love no longer enough to satiate himself upon. He wanted–no, needed–more and he was determined to see himself filled no matter the cost.

He was let into his mother’s solar by Ser Criston Cole, who ever dutifully bowed his head to his star pupil; unlike the other times when he would’ve respectfully nodded back to his mentor, Aemond averted his eyes and simply gave a tense bow of his head as he moved past the Dornish man. He did not miss the way the older man frowned in confusion, dark gaze following him into his grandfather’s solar before closing the door once more. The Targaryen prince, although firm in his intentions, could not help but feel a bit guilty knowing that his newfound selfishness would disappoint the man who had been more of father to him then his own ever had. He had looked up to kingsguard his whole life, admiring the honorable way in which the man protected and respected his mother unlike the other men in her life who had neglected to do so; if Aemond had not known any better he would’ve said Criston was in love with the queen, but he did know better and knew with a certainty that the relationship between the knight and his mother ran no deeper than a shared fondness and treasured friendship. It made the young man feel guilty because in a way he was betraying the rapport he had created thus far with his teacher, years of trust diminished in the short period of time it had taken Aemond to cast away the virtue of duty for the sin of lust.

“Mother,” he greeted respectfully, bowing once more to the pious woman who sat stiffly as always in the area by the lit fireplace; nearer to the hearth stood his grandfather, who greeted his grandson with a nod and his name. “Grandfather. You both wanted to see me?”

He already had his suspicions before Otto even opened his mouth, having known for months what the man and the other small council members were plotting behind his and his father’s own backs. Viserys was too weak to really be coherent of much of anything at this point, kept numb and docile by copious amounts of milk of the poppy; he hadn’t been of use for quite some time, Aemond’s grandfather and mother taking up in his stead to rule things as they saw fit–hiding behind the guise of doing the king’s bidding. It was quite hard to do his bidding when the decaying corpse of man couldn’t even string together a full sentence, instead speaking in a broken language one often had to decode–Aemma and Rhaenyra among some of his favorite words. Aemond resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust as he listened to what Otto had to say, though he was already calculating his rebuttal in his head.

“Your mother and I have been discussing it with the small council,” the older man hummed, “and we believe it is high time you were engaged to marry. We’ve already begun discussions with Lord Borros Baratheon in regards to one of his four lovely daughters–”

“And what if I do not wish to marry?” Was Aemond’s reply, hands folding behind his back as he glanced between his grandfather and mother, who had already begun to pick nervously at her hands as she formulated her response carefully.

“Aemond,” she begun, “we understand these things are not always desirable but–”

“But it is your duty to the family to secure a good match,” Otto interjected, “and garner more support for your brother’s claim.”

Of course, Aemond thought bitterly to himself, it is always about that drunk’s claim. But what of my own?

He studied the histories and philosophies of their predecessors, he practiced the art of the sword, he had sacrificed time and time again for his family; but still, his efforts would forever be only those of a second born son, a curse in and of itself–a constant mark against his person no matter how hard he tried to escape his destiny. Had it ever crossed any of their mind’s that he might make a better fit for king than his older brother? Who other than the fact of being born first was even more ill-suited for the crown than their whoring cunt of a half-sister or her brood of bastards. Aemond was sure that it had, but due to damnable tradition he would forever be passed over for Aegon, just as he had when Helaena and his brother were betrothed; he had had no desire to marry his sister, but he would’ve done it if only to ensure she was not doomed to a loveless and cruel marriage to that drunkard.

“Your grandfather is right,” Alicent nodded, standing up from her spot on the settee. “We will need Lord Borros’ support and to ensure it we have to create a strong alliance. The man’s father might have sworn to Rhaenyra, but that was years ago and it is my understanding that the man is less concerned with hollow oaths and more concerned with seeing his daughters to profitable martial matches. What better one than that of a prince?”

“I do not wish to marry one of the storms, mother,” Aemond frowned. “Besides, it is my understanding that they take after their father in both looks and intellect; I’d rather not have my future children be burdened with dull minds and plain faces.”

“Aemond!” The queen admonished.

“I merely–” Aemond began to defend himself.

“Enough,” Otto snapped, mouth set in a firm line. “You stand there and insult Lord Borros and his daughters, one of which will be your betrothed. It is foolish of you to believe that you have any say in the matter; you will do as your mother and I have bid you for your father–the king–has already given his blessing to the offer. We simply wished to let you know as a courtesy before sending word to the Stormlands.”

A pause and then a laugh–

Aemond tossed back his hair, chuckle passing through the column of his throat and vibrating there as he smiled amusedly at his grandfather. The other man’s frown deepened and he took a step forward as if to further reprimand his grandson, perhaps he even intended to put his hands on Aemond. Alicent, ever the level-headed one, placed her hand on her father’s arm as her lips pressed into a thin line, worry etched forever in the plains of her forehead.

“Aemond–” She began softly.

“You are the foolish one, grandfather,” he cut her off, laughter dying out as he continued, “if you believe that you can tell a dragon what to do; you have power because we allow you to not based on your own merit, though I will commend you for your cleverness and confidence.”

“How dare you–” Otto snapped.

“No,” Aemond shot back, taking a dangerous step forward as his hands fell to his side, clenched into readied fists. “How dare you think you could go behind my back and decide my fate for me! How dare you lecture me about duty and sacrifice as if I have no idea what it means to bleed for this family?! I have already given so much–my mind, my sword, my eye–and still it is not enough for you?”

He laughed again, this time more cruelly as he backed away and paced across the room, eyes once more finding Criston’s who remained by the door. The latter had a disapproving frown on his lips–of course he did; the man was just as chained to the concept of duty as Aemond had found himself to be not that long ago. To him and the others–Aemond’s mother and grandfather–he was foolish to believe that one’s wishes should trump that of obligation and perhaps at one point the prince himself believed that to be so as well. But not anymore–not when he was so close to tasting the forbidden fruit he had denied himself for so long–

Not when he almost had you, his flower.

“Let us speak civilly about this, Aemond,” his mother urged, walking over to his side and reaching for his hand. “I know that it does not always feel like your efforts have been recognized, but know that they have and that I am grateful for your dedication to this family. Aemond–”

She paused when he pulled his hand away, turning his body to the side so that he did not have to look at her directly, the set of his jaw tense as he turned his head to the side to let her know he was at least still listening.

“You have always been so….agreeable,” she continued, trying to find the right words, “when it came to what has been expected of you in the past. What has changed, my dear boy?”

He could not tell her, not yet when things were still in motion and he did not have you fully yet; there was still the chance, however slim he hoped it to be, that you would reject him and he would not be made a fool to you and his family if that were to happen. Even absent his desire for you the repulsion he felt at the prospect of marrying one of the Baratheon daughters did not waver; he had never met them nor did he have any wish to do so, not wanting to give any of them the false hope that they might be able to bewitch a dragon. It was too late for him anyways, after all he had fallen under your spell long ago.

“Perhaps,” he found himself saying, finally glancing between his pale faced grandfather and his mother who now worried her bottom lip between both rows of her teeth, “I simply do not wish to be an animal caged in a loveless and dull marriage as I have seen my loved one subjected to.”

It was a dig at the sham of the unions of first his mother and father and now his brother and sister; both pairs forced into proximity to one another in an act of his grandfather to secure Hightower blood on the throne. Aemond knew his mother held no love for his father, not as a wife should a husband anyways, and perhaps Aegon and Helaena could’ve cared for each other as siblings if they had not been used as pawns by those who should’ve protected them. And now the pieces were moving across the board once more, and it was Aemond’s turn to be sent forward as fodder for his grandfather’s ambitions.

“Perhaps,” he adds, the hint of a smile curving his lips, “I have found something that I desire more than your fleeting approval for once, mother.”

He had always known her love was conditional, that to be the golden son in her eyes one must forgo their own happiness; but even that was no longer enough for the queen it seemed as she grew desperate to secure her eldest son’s claim to a throne he had no business sitting upon. No matter what Aemond did he would never have her favor, he would never be enough, because he was a second son and that’s all he ever would be.

It was time that he accepted that.

Without another word, he turned to leave, striding towards the door even as Alicent called after him tearfully, shaking hand coming up to cover her quivering mouth. His grandfather’s voice joined her, demanding that he stop and even commanding Criston make him, but for once the knight defied orders and instead simply bowed his head to the prince as he strode past; there seemed to be something in his eyes akin to understanding, as if he too understood what it was to be held in limbo between desire and duty.

And perhaps he had; as Aemond opened the door to his mother’s solar and walked through, he recalled something Criston had said to him many years ago–about how he had once coveted something that he could not have and how filled with too much pride he had rejected the only way in which to possess it–

A choice he did not regret until many years too late.

Aemond refused to have such regrets hanging over his head.

•°•❀•°•

𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 tucked under a white rose in your bedroom again, wanting to ensure that it would not be disturbed by just any passerby nosy enough to pick it up. It read as follows: meet me in the east private gardens when the moon is highest in the sky. Simple enough. And it gave him enough time to rid himself of the residual anger that still pulse through his blood, thrumming most prominently at the vein in his neck. With no other obligations–at least ones he wasn’t willing to snub–he found himself spending the rest of the day avoiding the gardens in exchange for the quiet of the library. He did not want to risk running into you before you saw his note and came to the garden to meet your faceless secret admirer that night; fearful he was that you might see the truth upon his face somehow and the big reveal would be ruined.

It was terribly romantic, or at least he thought so as he settled into a secluded section with a book he had already read two or three times before. His mind was not of the disposition that day to retain any new information, hyperfocused on the task at hand; he obsessed over every possible outcome as his eyes skimmed over the words, not really taking them in as he tried to prepare himself for any possible scenario. What would he do if you truly did reject him? He didn’t believe himself to be a broken hearted type, but it would surely gut him in some way if you held not even the slightest inclination towards him. Or on the other, what would he do if you did end up holding a desire similar to his own? He was not well versed when it came to concerns of the flesh, though he found himself more often than not as of late imagining what coupling with you would be like if he were to be presented with the chance.

His singular sexual experience was one he would rather forget–a forced-upon-him trip to the Street of Silk courtesy of Aegon and his wiles. It had been to make him a man–at least that’s how his brother had rationalized it afterwards, when a three and ten Aemond had stumbled out of the brothel the next day, fleeing as Aegon tried to keep him. Time to get it wet, that is what he had said as he clapped the younger boy on the back the night before, guiding him towards the establishment’s offerings; words that haunted the prince to this day and to which he tried his best to push away in that moment, instead replacing them with happier thoughts of you.

Sighing, he closed his book and laid it against his chest, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes; he thought of the small, coy smile you had given him that day in the garden when he had confronted you after all those years. It alone aroused something inside of him in its memory, fire only fueled as he continued to recall more details of you on that day. The dress you wore had been plain, the uniform red of a royal servant, a white robe dirtied by the work in the gardens thrown over it; your hair had been bound, pulled away from your face aside from a few rebellious strands that he didn’t know whether he wanted to fist and pull at or tuck behind your ear in a gesture of tenderness. The glint in your eye; the curve of your lips, the silhouette of your figure–

Shifting uncomfortably, Aemond began to feel the familiar tightening in his leathers, cursing internally as he sighed and ran a hand over his face. Never before had he been the type to so spontaneously harden at the mere thought of a pretty girl; it was not unfounded completely, no, but nor had it been as frequent as it had of late. He of course blamed you and his lack of self-control, the reluctance to delay gratification a constant struggle he battled with.

Setting the book aside, he hesitated a moment as he sat up, hands flexing upon his thighs as he glanced at the space between his legs before assessing his surroundings; there had been no one in the library when he had first entered and he was sure no one had made their way in ever since. Although he was tucked away from the entrance, he was positive he would be able to hear if someone were to come in and even though it was a risky move he found himself oddly thrilled at the element of danger. It would do him no good, after all, to walk to his chambers in such a state he rationalized to himself as his right hand rubbed up his thigh and to the growing bulge at the front of his leathers.

Groaning, he gave in and leaned back as his hand closed over the outline of his cock, gripping it firmly and rubbing in slow methodical circles. His legs shifted, opening wider as he adjusted his position to a more comfortable, ass hanging off the edge of the seat he was in as he kicked his feet out. Heel of his boots digging into the firm ground so he could gain purchase and have better control of his hips, which squirmed under his hand’s ministrations as he let his mind wander.

He imagined you there with him, sitting to his side, your hand replacing his as it stroked over his clothed member; fingers teasing the laces at the front, he licked his lips as he saw you in his head leaning in to press kisses to the arch of his neck, leaving teasing bites as you began to undo the front of his trousers. His own mirrored your movements, except for the way he impatiently yanked at the laces while you moved slowly, not a care in the world as you focused all your attention on him. It made him feel revered, worshiped as your pressed kisses down the column of his throat, hand sliding inside to grip at his cock finally; a soft gasp left his lips as you gave it a few good tugs, matching his rhythm before pulling it out and exposing the turgid flesh to the cool air of the room. It should’ve been a relief, it was a relief, but only a temporary reprieve as Aemond continued stroking himself at a good pace; he pressed his feet into the floor, hips rocking in tandem with his touch as he thrusted into his fist. Only for a moment did he pull away, depravedly spitting into his own hand before returning it to his now fully hard and weeping erection; his strokes quickened as he panted breathlessly, head lilting back uselessly as he lost himself to the debauchery of it all.

Soon enough his leathers were wrapped around his ankles, restricting his movement as the scene shifted in his mind, imagining you taking him into your mouth. He grunted, trying to conjure up how the delicious cavern of mouth upon him would feel–hot, wet, blissfully suffocating–but it was futile; he would simply have to make do with the slick slide of his hand along his length as a poor imitation until he could bring you to bed–if he could bring you to bed. Growling at the thought of your rejection, he quickened his strokes, fucking the tight vice of his fist as he pushed such worries away; in his fantasy at least you were compliant and wanting, mouth hungry as you suckled at the root of his cock, hand fondling the heavy weight of his balls as they tightened. He gripped them harshly, the tightness bordering on painful as they drew up against his body, the end close.

“Fuck,” he cursed, squeezing his erection as he tried to delay the inevitable; your name slipped over his tongue and past his lips, saying it like a prayer as he teetered on the edge. He said it like a plea, begging his cock not to spill so soon as he wanted to drown there in his desire for just a little bit longer.

His body did not heed his words, however, as soon it was stiffening, hips arching off the chair and staying there as the first stream of his release shot pitifully out of the tip of his cock, landing on the lapels of his trousers and the lower half of his vest. Gasp locked deep in his throat, all he could do was simply tilt his head back, singular eye closed tightly as he watched himself hold you down as he spilled inside of your mouth. In an ideal world, you would accept his seed like an offering, swallowing it all down gratefully as you continued to suckle at his softening cock like it was a rare delicacy and you had yet to have your fill–nothing went to waste. Sighing, he continued to jerk himself to the prospect, tongue coming out to swipe across his lower lip as he felt his cum begin to drip onto his hand; only when the last of his release had finished did he loosen his hold on his penis, letting fall uselessly against his dirtied trousers as he slowly came down from the high.

It had been thrilling, he had to admit to, doing such a private act in the communal area of the library, the threat of being caught some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac. He almost wanted to get caught, to be happened upon in such a compromising state, to be watched while he–

He turned his head in the midst of his wicked thoughts, eye catching the familiar hue of yours as everything came to a halt; for a moment he thought–hoped–that you were still simply a figment of his imagination, but when he saw the shock written plainly on your face and the way your lips parted as you realized you were caught he knew that this was not a part of his fantasy. You were really standing there in the library before him, bearing witness to his secret shame, and he wondered when you had stumbled upon him–how long had you watched him defile himself?

Before either of you could utter a word, Aemond watched you bolt, gripping the skirts of your dress as you hurried from the room. Cursing, he quickly pushed his cock back inside his trousers, struggling with the laces as he attempted to right himself and stumble to catch. Your name left his lips again as he begged you to stay, commanding you to stop when his pleas went unanswered, the door slamming shut behind you as you slipped out of the library. Ignoring how filthy he was, pearly white cum already beginning to harden and stain his clothes, he followed you out into the hallway only to realize that you had already disappeared. Unsure of which way you had gone, he stood there for a moment and considered his chances of catching up with you; frowning as he realized it was futile, he turned on his heel and went back inside, the door once more slamming shut behind him.

He could only hope that you showed at the garden that night so that he might explain himself; although how he could he did not know quite yet. It proved unnecessary however for as midday finally turned to night and Aemond found himself waiting in a patch of white roses in the private area of the gardens, minutes turned to hours and still you made no appearance. And yet he waited as time passed him by, eventually laying back in the flowers as he allowed their sickly sweet scent to envelop him, the starry sky hanging overhead as he drifted slowly to sleep.

#˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 :#house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen one shot

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touchedbydestiny · 2 years ago

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diana had never been given flowers, so she was actually surprised. it was rare for someone to give away a bouquet whose flowers actually had meaning. red roses, of course, were common and were often given away between lovers, and roses, lilies and carnations are often found in grave decorations. but otherwise? most people chose bouquets for their looks or because they liked certain colors. this bouquet, however, had certainly not been chosen for its appearance only.

the single dahlia was much more than a decoration.

he knew who she was; even aside from knowing of her fondness of flowers. it was … frightening. she hadn't thought that anyone would know of her or even find her.

she had always been living very withdrawn, and after freya had disappeared, dahlia had certainly not let diana out of her sight. it was unlikely that anyone knew her at all.

"and yet you seem to understand the whispers of their language seemingly well", diana finally answered, the bouquet still in her hands. she knew he was a vampire … the subtle whirring of magic from which vampires were created revealed his true nature. sensing magic is a gift, perhaps a curse, diana had inherited from dahlia. it made the brunette witch even more suspicious about tristan's intentions.

"well, i thank you for the wonderful flowers and the … warm welcome. i believe i do not need an introduction." tristan seemed to know almost everything about her. her name, her connection to dahlia, the fact that she hadn't lived in this century aside from recently… it was scary.

"but i do wonder … what do i deserve this reception for?"

@touchedbydestiny liked this for a starter and requested something for Diana. "I'm told you appear to be quite fond of flowers. It is peculiar. The way in which no more than some partly decades sufficed to erase the whispers of their language from common knowledge." The bouquet he introduced himself with fused messages of contrasting light and darkness. The single dahlia was a literal token alluding to its namesake. Encircled by dark-crimson roses for mourning, red poppies expressing consolation and purple hyacinths showing their sorrow. An arrangement meant for someone suffering from a recent loss. An element of sunlight gave a particular candor to the greeting. Yellow roses implying new beginnings and a desire for friendship. "Tristan de Martel. My pleasure. I would advice against interpreting too much out of the subtle inclusion of lavender at the side. A treasured favorite of my sister. I adopted the habit of adding a small touch of it as a personal calling card in allusion to her during the Victorian era." He amicably commented. "Oh and since you seem to be owed a long-overdue introduction..." Embracing the temporal contradiction without apology, Tristan offered a gentlemanly bow. "Welcome to this century, Diana."

#lordofthestrix #lordofthestrix // diana & tristan #❖ interactions | diana #❖ v: on her own | diana #diana & tristan #asdfasf #this is perfect #and so well thought through #i love it #i also have a matching icon with flowers

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fairyofsilence · 3 years ago

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1. FROM: UNKNOWN | OBSESSION SERIES |

Pairings: Yandere!Namjoon x Reader, Yandere!Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 4.7 K

This is part of the obsession series, you can find my main masterlist here.

Warnings (for this chapter): +18, stalking, anxiety, cursing, panic attacks, mentions of medication (sleeping pills), creepy text messages (only one of them it's shown), sex is implied but there isn't any explicit scenes, mc is completely clueless of Namjoon's actions bc she's in love, Dasom is not a bad friend she just doesn't like Namjoon (and she's right, an intellectual).

I don't agree nor condone any of the actions made by any of the characters throughout the story, I also do not belive that any of the members of BTS would act this way or have this type of behaviour, this story it's fiction and it's written with the sole purpose of entertainment, please proceed with caution.

Summary:Your husband adores you and he would do anything for you, but little do you know, so will the man who's watching you from the shadows.

Taglist (for this series): @minshookie29, @multifandombishthatlovekth, @kimlineownsme, @marslena. (If you like to be added, just comment under this post or send me an ask requesting to be added❤)

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm very sorry that it took me some time to upload this, I finished a very draining semester and decided to rest for a bit before coming back to writting, it also took some time because I decided to change almost everything I had already written for this, it just didn't feel right for me but thankfully I managed to finish this chapter before the month ended, thank you all so much for your comments and words of encouragment, I appriciate them a lot, I hope you all have and amazing day and have fun reading! [EDITED ON 13/06/2022]

You know your husband like the back of your hand.

He likes to drink hot coffee in the mornings to boost his energy and has a cup of tea after work to relieve the stress of being stuck in an office for so long, he’s a night owl and says he feels more productive at night, one of the most adorable facts about him is that he has a sweet tooth, back at his office, he has a fully stocked drawer in his desk with all his favorite sweets, he hates seafood and shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere near a stove, he likes to say his favorite drink is whiskey on the rocks but you know he has a soft spot for cocktails, margaritas and piñas coladas are his ultimate guilty pleasure, he secretly loves gardening and uses the excuse of "helping you out" to let himself enjoy such a mundane hobby, you’ll never tell him, but gardening it’s not something you enjoy a lot, you started with the hopes on liking it but never really got the hang of it, you only kept on doing it because he seems to love it so much, but you know your husband, Namjoon would never admit to himself that a man like him can have a deep connection to a simple activity like this, so for his sake, you’ll continue to pretend that he’s doing this for you and not the other way around.

From his hidden passion for gardening, came his extensive knowledge of flower meanings, Namjoon knows exactly what each of his favorite flowers means and how it’s color also gives it an even deeper meaning. Ever since you started living together, every Friday after coming home from work, he would always bring you a bouquet of white Camellia's and red Carnations, it’s a beautiful tradition he started and that he has made sure to cherish and maintain as well as you have by keeping a routine ever since he started doing this. You both greet each other at the front door, he’ll approach you with the biggest smile on his face despite coming home tired and you’ll return the smile with open arms for him to find the warm comfort that you know he seeks, he will kiss your cheek first and then your lips, and between the shared kisses and giggles he’ll hold the bouquet in front of you for you to take.

“For you, my love” Namjoon would say against your lips, you always kiss him harder after that.

In your almost seven years of marriage, your husband has never come empty handed on a Friday night, ever.

Despite how everyone around you seems to perceive him as a stone-cold emotionless man, Namjoon is a lot more complex than that, although you’ll have to admit that before you became a couple you though the same thing about him when you first met him, but it’s only because Namjoon has always carried an intimidating aura around him, once you finally got to know who he is, you could see through his facade. Namjoon is an emotional and caring man, grand romantic gestures are something he’ll never miss the chance on doing, the domestic bliss that has been living by your side has shifted something in him, making him more vulnerable, making him human.

It wasn’t just Namjoon who has changed since you got married, your life became something completely different than what you could even imagine, one day you were a struggling little nobody, who didn’t know her father and was the daughter of a prostitute, and now you were a well-known and respected therapist who was married to one of the most influential men in the country. Your job was something that made you feel more independent and the feeling you get when you see your patients becoming their best versions of themselves is something you can’t put into words, while you love what you do and wouldn’t change it if you had the chance, sometimes you wished you had accepted Namjoon’s request of being a stay-at-home wife.

It’s a challenging thing to do, maintaining a balance between your professional life and the life you have back at home, while you love feeling like a capable hardworking woman, being completely dedicated to your home was something you always wished for since you were young, with your parents never having a stable relationship and growing up seeing how much your mother had struggle to make ends meet while trying to get your father to be involved in your life it’s something that has affected you in ways you couldn’t explain, having to practically raise yourself since your mother spent the entire day working so she could pay the bills and your father didn’t financially provide for you until you were a teenager, that was the only kind of interaction you ever had with him, and it never was directly, his lawyer would come by, give your mother the amount of money the jury had demanded for him to give you, tell you that your education was paid off and leave, that’s all your father ever was, a dollar sing for your mother and a non-existing parental figure for you.

Namjoon gave you everything you ever wished for, security and stability, a dream-like marriage that only fairytales could have, he gave you the chance of forming a relationship both of your parents never had, while his were married, they never loved or cared for one another, you knew that your husband wanted to give you everything that you longed for, and there was nothing more that you could ask from him, he gave his heart to you, and not only you accepted it, you gave him your heart in return.

In the beginning, Namjoon had all the control over your relationship and you were aware of that now, but as you’ve grown together, he has changed and has become a man that you were incredibly proud of, he has overcome a lot of hardships in life just as you have, and that has made your bond as a couple become even stronger than it was in the beginning, you were soulmates, there wasn’t any doubt about it in your mind.

You know that your relationship with Namjoon is not an easy thing to understand, and it's viewed differently by both of your acquaintances, while his friends and associates view your relationship as a major success, your friends have never been truly fond of Namjoon, Dasom has been vocal about it since the beginning of your relationship. No matter how much you (or anyone) speak wonders about him, Dasom has never liked Namjoon, not in the slightest, and she’s been letting her dislike to be known for as long as you’ve been friends.

"Why does he have to know where you are at all times? You don’t need to tell him everything” She complains after seeing you respond to another one of Namjoon’s texts in the bathroom of a random club she dragged you to, in which you couldn’t disagree of going for the mere reason of today being her birthday. You roll your eyes at her tone but keep a smile on your face for the sake of not ruining the mood.

“He’s just worried, don’t be so hard on him” You put your chin on her shoulder after approaching her from behind, you try to give her your best puppy eyes so she doesn’t get too mad at you “It’s not wrong for him to be worried how his girlfriend is doing at such late hours of the night, in an unknown place where she’s most likely drunk” You give her a pout for the extra guilt-trip measure, she scoffs loudly and shakes her head.

“You know sometimes your demon boyfriend is right, you can get away with anything with those damn eyes of yours” You know she’s struggling not to smile so you hug her a little tighter and give her a teasing smile.

“C’mon, it’s your day, forget about him and let’s go dance for a little bit okay?” Dasom finally comes out of her glum and starts to get loose again “Now that I can agree on.”

You knew that the reason why Dasom felt that way about your relationship was because hers was very different than yours, her and Hoseok started as occasional hook up a little bit after all of you started going to college, they started to admit they were an item after months of denial, mostly because she had to eat up her words of never getting involved with “a pig like him” and Hoseok just laughing at the mere comment of them being a couple. You don’t really remember how it happened but the next thing you know is that they’re head over heels for each other and moving in together, the thing with these two is that they’re free spirits, neither Hoseok nor Dasom like the idea of marriage, they don’t see it the way you and Namjoon do, it’s not symbolical nor romantic for them to be blessed upon an altar surrounded by the people that you cherish the most, for people like them, it’s a dreadful document that holds no meaning, and Dasom has always made sure that everyone knows where she stands on the subject, one of the most noticeable times she made that clear was during a dinner celebration your friends did after Namjoon’s proposal.

“I’ll admit that Namjoon might be a little too intense for my taste, but his proposal was so beautiful I was a crying the whole time, getting all of your friends and pouring out his feelings like that it’s not something I would expect from a man like him, he adores you!” One of your friends from college, Hwan, admits after a few glasses of wine at dinner and all of you but Dasom giggle, she dislikes Namjoon way too much to give him credit for his heartfelt proposal, but still has a small smile on her face, not daring to disagree on that.

“He truly does!, when you introduced him to us he gave me a weird vibe at first, giving how possessive he used to be, but he’s changed so much, and it’s because of you” Gyeong, another one of your friends commented and everyone couldn’t help to agree, even yourself, Namjoon has definitely changed over the years and you couldn’t be more proud of him, how naïve you were, if you only knew that Namjoon hasn’t changed at all, he only got better at hiding his possessive nature from all of you.

The conversation goes on with how excited everyone is over your wedding, giving that you’re the first to get married of your friend group, and somehow, the conversation shifts to how everyone feels about getting married, and while the most of them agree that it’s something they’ll like to do in the future, one of you doesn’t agree with it at all, that person being Dasom.

“It’s a trap I’m telling you, they make you think it’s ‘the best day of a women’s life’ and it’s bullshit, my mother always said that shit and I refuse giving my parents the satisfaction of ‘marring a well-positioned man like Hoseok’, I love Hoseok and I want to be with him forever, I don’t need a stupid contract to prove it” Dasom tries to explain her point of view, the whole table is silent while she speaks.

“Dasom, I don’t think that a bride to be likes to hear how one of her friends thinks her wedding is a scam” Gyeong tries to make her realize that while none of you are against on her thoughts about marriage, bringing the subject while celebrating an engagement it’s not the right time to talk about her negative opinions on it. After realizing what she said, Dasom looked at you with a guilty expression on her face.

“Right, sorry Y/N” You smiled at her and reached for her hand.

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just talk about something else” Dasom returned the smile and held your hand for a little bit before letting go, Jia, another one of your mutual friends, tried to lighting up the mood and brough up a few color ideas for the bridesmaid dresses, the awkward moment was quickly forgotten and the excitement over your wedding preparations returned.

While most of your friends started to grow a soft spot for Namjoon as time passed, Dasom never budged on her opinions about him, but for as long as he made you happy, she wasn’t going to intervene in your relationship in any way, you know she only worries this much because she cares about you, in her eyes, you were her first real friend and she cares about you more than she cares about her own family, and while you also consider Dasom like a sister, she has to understand that you have boundaries, and messing with Namjoon is one of them.

Namjoon is your everything and you don’t take any kind of criticism against him lightly, you might allow Dasom to make some comments here and there, but even she knows that when it comes down to choosing someone, there’s only one answer for you.

Namjoon’s overprotective nature doesn’t faze you like it used to do when you first started dating, and since it has toned down over the years it wasn’t hard to ignore most of the time, but you knew that if you told him about what was happening to you, might as well tell him to lock you up at home for the rest of your life.

The messages started about a week ago.

The first one was tame and sweet, you even thought it was from Namjoon until you noticed it was signed by an anonymous, and that wasn’t possible, only him and your friends had your personal number, not even your secretary has it, this isn’t right, this shouldn’t be happening. You received the text while arriving to your monthly brunch date with your friends.

“From: Unknown

Your beauty always manages to leave me breathless, but today?

You almost had me at heaven’s gate by simply looking at your face. Sent at 9:43 A.M”

You stopped at the entrance of the restaurant as you started to look around you, as if you could catch whoever send this starting at you, but there wasn’t anyone around except for the valet parking who was impatiently waiting for you to give him your keys, you offered him an awkward smile while handing them to him, before going to meet your friends, you stopped by the entrance and deleted the message, you also blocked the unknown number, deciding you would think much of it, it could’ve easily been a mistake, it didn’t have your name nor it directly addressed you, so for now, you think it’s not so bad to let it slide.

You were regretting that decision now.

The messages only seemed to increase, and it only has been a week since they started, there was no doubt now that they were for you, each one becoming more and more explicit about how this unknow person felt about you, they described your features, the clothes you were wearing, your own damn house, and if that wasn’t enough, they had become so bold they started writing how they fantasized about you by their side, the sexual undertones of each message made you want to throw up in disgust.

You were worried by the first text but by now you were terrified, you never thought it would turn out to be like this, and while you wanted to tell Namjoon, you knew he’ll freak out more than necessary, so you look for the next best option, telling Dasom.

“What the fuck are these messages? Does this freak think you’re going to fall for him with his creepy ass text? What is wrong with this guy?” Dasom reads the messages you’ve been receiving for the past couple of days, and you can’t help but to roll your eyes at her response.

“That’s all you’re going to say?, this man has been stalking me for days Dasom, he even knows how the inside of my house looks like, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” You’re starting to pace back and forth while you seem to breath quicker by each second that passes and she quickly realizes how freaked out about this you really are, you only act like this when you’re about to have a panic attack, Dasom gets up from her chair and stands in front of you for you to stop pacing.

“We’ll find a solution, it’s going to be okay, just breath with me okay?, slow and deep breaths” You try to follow her instructions while she helps you come down from the headspace you’re currently slipping into.

Namjoon and Dasom might not get along very well, but if there’s something they both have in common is that they prioritize your safety, he taught Dasom how to help you during a panic attack and how to properly react to them, even if they didn’t happen frequently, he still worries and he knows that if he isn’t with you, she’ll be the one by your side. After some time, the breathing exercises help you to keep yourself grounded, but the fear and anxiety still lingers around you. You hug Dasom and hide your tears onto her chest.

“I don’t want to worry him Dasom, you know him, you know how he’s going to react about this” You hold onto her like your life it’s at stake and for some reason you can’t help but to feel that it is.

“It’s going to be fine, we’ll go to the police together, there’s enough messages by now to make a report, and if that doesn’t work we’ll figure it out, we always do” Dasom hugs you a bit harder than usual and instead of making you more nervous, you feel like you can breathe better than before.

Dasom will help you, you’ll be okay, everything’s going to work out, the police will help you.

Namjoon doesn’t even have to know any of this ever happen and that somehow feels more reliving than getting all of this to end.

You arrived home late that day.

After finally talking about what was happening to you, it almost feels like you can breathe all over again, you still feel guilty about not telling your husband about the messages, but you know you’re making the right choice by keeping this from him, Namjoon doesn’t need any unnecessary drama, he’s been so busy at work you can’t imagine bothering him just because someone is trying to mess around with you, you’ll be fine, he doesn’t need to know, patting yourself in the back, you make your way towards his home office, where you’re most likely sure your husband is currently at.

You knocked on his office door twice, even though it was wide open, he was so focused on his paperwork that you doubted he would’ve noticed you by the door. He looks up towards the door only to find you leaning on it with a small smile on your face, almost immediately, he drops the contract he was previously working on and leans back in his chair, manspreading and you can’t help to admire your husband’s broad muscles, he returns the smile but his is far more playful than yours.

“I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’re the one coming home late” Namjoon raises his eyebrow, and you can’t help but to giggle, he wasn’t wrong, you could count with one hand the number of times he had to be the one waiting for you instead of the other way around.

“I missed you too Joon” He doesn’t miss the sarcasm in your tone, and he lets out a dry chuckle before motioning with his hand for you to come closer to him and you quickly follow his command.

“You’ve been anxious these days my love, is there something bothering you?” As soon as you stand in front of him, his hands go to your waist and pulls you closer, making you straddle his lap.

Shit, of course he noticed, your husband knows you too well, you though he didn’t pay enough attention to you this week giving how busy he was but apparently you weren’t giving him any credit, still, you couldn’t let him know what was truly going on with you, what he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, right?.

“Work just has been a little stressful these days” One of your hands rub on his chest while the other one travels around his neck, you’re trying to distract him, he doesn’t comment about it, just looks at you as you keep talking “You’ve been busy this week Joonie, haven’t paid attention to me at all” You’re pulling the cute pout move on him, you definitely don’t want to tell him what’s going on, that’s not good, Namjoon doesn’t like to invade your privacy at all, but he guesses he’ll have to do something about this if you aren’t going to tell him yourself. He decides to stay quiet for now, that he’ll play your game for tonight, the hands that were previously on your hips go lower to grab a handful of your backside and you moan against his lips, well then, if this is what you need from him, he’s not against on giving it to you.

You let Namjoon’s soft caresses and dark whispers consume you for the night, drowning your worries with lust and pleasure that your husband is more than willing to offer, for the first time in a week, you don’t have to reach to your nightstand for the orange bottle of sleeping pills to lull you for the night, Namjoon’s fingers running across your back and the firmness of his chest are a lot more effective than the tiny white pills, you allow yourself to fall into deep slumber after many nights of bad dreams and panicked thoughts.

You were going to be okay; Namjoon would always make sure of that.

You were running late.

After last night, you slept like a rock, completely unaware of your alarm going off like crazy, it was only when Jeong, your housekeeper, had noticed that you weren’t coming out of you and Namjoon’s shared bedroom and she had come to wake you up, confused and on a sleep daze, you check the clock in your nightstand and realized you had overslept, horrified, you jumped out of bed and tried to get ready as quickly as usual, leaving your home without eating breakfast and you could already hear how Namjoon was going to lecture you about it when Jeong tells him about it.

You drive as fast as you can to work, and luck seems to be on your side today, there isn’t a lot of traffic as you make your way to your office and you only got green on the traffic lights, but most importantly, it seemed that your creepy admirer had not messaged you at all today, so you’ll count that as a win.

However, as you parked your car in front of your office, you hear a loud ping coming from your phone, and you quickly realize you have spoken way too soon, you decide to ignore it and only open the dreaded message once you’ve gotten out of your car, with a heavy sigh coming out of your lips, you open the text.

“From: Unknown

Who knew that proper Mrs. Kim was a dirty little whore? Tell me baby, would you ever let me do to you the same nasty things you let that bastard do, or would you be even nastier for me?. Sent at 11:15 A.M”

How could he know about last night? This couldn’t be happening, you and Namjoon were completely alone last night, none of the staff who worked at home had been there, or did they? No, you know Namjoon had let them go home for the night, what the fuck was going on?

With a sour expression, you walked into the reception, trying to calm yourself down after realizing that your stalker seems to know way more about you that what you initially thought. Hearing the door being opened, Haneul, your secretary, practically jumped out of her chair to greet you as you arrived, her heels making an irritating noise as she approached you.

“Good morning Mrs. Kim” Haneul greeted you with a big smile on her face, and if you would’ve paid close attention, you would noticed how nervous she seemed to be “Mrs. Cho cancelled her appointment at 2:00 p.m., your only patient for today it’s going to be the new patient that I mentioned yesterday” If she noticed your bad mood, she made no comments from it and instead simply focused on her job that while you should definitely appreciate, right now your energy has dropped all the way down and you aren’t even sure you’ll be able to attend any sessions for today.

“Haneul, I’m very sorry but I’m not feeling really good right now” She looked at you with a panicked expression “I think you’ll have to cancel my appointment today with the new patient” The panicked expression soon turned into guilt as she points at your office.

“I’m very sorry Mrs. Kim, but the new patient has already arrived” As you hear that, you quickly regain your composure and look at Haneul with confusion written all over your face.

“I though we set his appointment at 12:00 p.m.” You try to lower your voice as much as you can knowing now that the new patient has apparently arrived.

“I thought the same thing, but he said we set it at 11:00 a.m. and when I check the calendar in my computer it said 11, I’m sorry Mrs. Kim but I could swear that even yesterday it said 12 p.m.” She looks like she’s about to cry so you send a reassuring smile her way to show that while you might be upset since you’re not feeling well, you’re not mad at her for the small mistake she made, especially since it’s the first time something like this happens.

“Don’t worry about it Haneul okay?, I’m not mad at you” She visibly calms down with your assurance but still looks conflicted as she bites her nails, you reach out to hold her wrist and then proceed to firmly hold her hand, she gives you a small smile and you consider that enough “Do you have his chart?” You try to distract her to keep her calm, Haneul nods and points at your office.

“I left in on your desk Mrs. Kim” You begin walking holding her hand while guiding her to her desk, she let’s go of your hand first and you give her one last reassuring smile before going into your office.

The first thing you noticed was that the young man sitting on the large couch in your office was stunning. His baby fat cheeks make him look youthful but by the shirt and pants he was wearing you could tell he had a strong, but still lean body. When he saw you entering the room, his doe eyes sparkled with excitement and something else that you really couldn’t make out, but it made you feel uneasy, you ignored it for the sake of not weirding your new patient out and decided to introduce yourself before you think about anything else.

“Good morning, I’m deeply sorry for making you wait, I’m sure my secretary informed you that we somehow mixed up the time of your appointment, I hope this doesn’t bring you any trouble, I’m Dr. Kim, it’s a pleasure to meet you” You bow your head as you greet the young man and offer him an apologetic smile as you explain the situation, he stands up after you finished talking and comes up a little bit more close to you, his adorable smile never leaves his face.

“Please Dr. Kim, don’t worry about it, I completely understand, I would never take it against you, mistakes always happen” His soft voice sounds like a beautiful melody to your ears, and you’re taken by surprise when he extends his hand to greet you, although he caught you off guard, you shake his hand firmly and look him in the eyes as he introduces himself.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook, and the pleasure to meet you is all mine”.

#yandere #bts series #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfction #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #yandere!namjoon #yandere!jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts x reader #obsession series #jungkook au #namjoon au #bts au

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wisp-exe · 2 years ago

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The Death Of A Hero

Tommyinnit loved so much, and he was somewhat loved in return. Though he was not cherished the way he should have been.

Once upon a time people would tell you he is incapable of staying dead. They would argue his death to the ends of the earth. He simply cant be gone just like that, not a single shout, no big hero’s death. They would list the number of funerals he had shown up to. Anything to convince you, and themselves that he isnt gone just yet. But there are some things even life’s most beloved cant bounce back from.

And for a group of people who despised him so much, they seemed to care a whole lot about him staying alive. Even those who attempted to kill him before.

So you can assume the surprise when they finally realized he was gone for good this time, because you see, the revive book didnt work. A warden begged his escaped prisoner to bring the boy back, but it didnt work.

Perhaps something, or someone was keeping him dead. Or maybe he was so tired that he couldnt come back. But either way, he was gone.

There are rumours that he is with the goddess of Death, who decided hes been through enough.

Others say that he’s returned to a past life, full of islands and friends from years past. They say hes scamming people with a boy who wears a santa hat.

Not everyone mourned for the boy, but you wouldn't see anyone celebrating. There are people who made sure of that.

Everyday there would be different people at his grave. All avoiding eachother.

One, having to mourn his bestfriend along with his husband, whose ghost follows along. Although the ghost doesnt know why, he always leaves a single allium.

Two, never getting a chance to apologize to his brother. Lilies of the valley are left on those days.

Three, wishing she had reconnected with him instead of attempting to kill. She opts to plant chrysanthemums around his grave, but places an petunia for her dear friend who would never think to show.

Four, the warrior who pretends he doesnt care for the traitor, and his friend who never got to connect with the child. And though no one is ever there to see the flowers placed, there is always a Gladiolus there the next day.

Five, wishing Tommy had accepted to join his country. A marigold the color of the boy’s hair is left behind.

Six, a king who regrets betraying the boy all that time ago. She leaves pink carnations.

Seven, a warden who regrets a lot. He places a purple hyacinth.

( @qvig @pancake-syrup @songbur )

#roman writes shit #tommyinnit #dream smp #dsmp #dreamsmp #dream smp fanfiction #tommyinnit fanfiction #angst

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enamouredfae · 4 years ago

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♡ Pick a Card ♡

Advice from your Spirit Guides!

This reading is for entertainment purposes only.

This is a timeless reading for the collective, therefore it is likely that some messages will not resonate with you. Please only take the messages that do! The messages that do not, are meant for somebody else. Remember that the future is never set in stone and that you possess free will! Love you! ♡

Pile 1

Charm: Shell

You may see shells as signs from the universe. You may have Venusian placements. You have a tough exterior, but once you finally open up to people you are a hidden gem! You are a person that values privacy.

Flower: Carnation

The meaning of carnation changes depending on its colour, since this one is a stripped purple carnation, it symbolizes rejection/refusal and capriciousness. It being a dry bud, for me at least, symbolizes that this is a small issue that isn't likely to grow! You might've been refused a caprice recently, or you may have too high expectations that are likely not going to be fulfilled.

Significator: Page of Cups

Self-sufficient is the word I thought of when I saw this card. I think that at the moment you are really starting to work through your emotions, you might be finally doing some introspection, journaling, talking to people, seeing a therapist, etc. You are beginning a journey of emotional growth. You might also be receiving a message soon, be aware of any symbols that matter to you or ask the universe for certain symbols for guidance.

Astro: Virgo and Capricorn

There is a high chance that you have Virgo or Capricorn placements. You may be earth dominant. You may be Mercury/Saturn dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

I thought of soil when I saw these cards, not a plant, but very well-nourished soil. It seems like you are making a foundation for yourself that is not rooted in anyone else, it simply comes from you. You are the soil, the water, the nutrients, and your future self is the plant. Flower crowns may be significant to you as well, or you may find great healing by connecting with nature and connecting to nature's cycles.

What you need advice on:

VI of Wands and X of Pentacles (reversed)

There are a few possibilities I see here. You may be having a hard time getting your accomplishments noticed by others, you might not receive the praise you desire or feel you deserve. Another possibility is that you may have a hard time feeling successful due to your financial situation. You may have received a large sum of money that should make you happy, but it doesn't. You may be very well off financially, but it is causing some hardships, and others might not understand these hardships because they think that they'd be very happy in your position.

Advice:

King of Pentacles and XVIII. The Moon

I feel like at least one of you should monetize your intuition. Some of you have or will meet a person (very likely an earth placement), that is either a business partner or a lover/friend, that will somehow help you with your financial issue. They might recommend you to someone for example. Perhaps if you confide in the King of Pentacles, they'll help you immensely, they're someone you can rely on, if not financially, emotionally. Others should embody the King of Pentacles, be determined, stick to a routine. For others, someone could be hiding smth from you that would help you immensely with this issue. Listen to your intuition! Do not forget that your anxieties and fears are valid, and it is normal to be feeling like this! Your worth is not defined by your financial success!

38. Willow and 5. Cerato and Honeysuckle

Willow talks about self-responsibility: make a plan, stick to it and, most importantly, try to stop complaining. You have the strength to get through this, complaining just engrains it in your head that you have a problem making it harder to get out of that mindset, instead try working on the solution. Cerato talks about the fact that no matter how many people you ask, no matter how many books you read, your gut knows best! Trust yourself and your intuition. Whatever feels right, is! Just know that domestic happiness is very important right now, cherish whoever that may be (King of Pentacles perhaps), be it your cat or even yourself if you live alone, give and accept affection! This could be a message for a specific person but I feel called to note that as I was shuffling the oracles I started singing "Runaway" by Aurora. Perhaps the lyrics are meaningful to one of you, or it can reassure you that this pile is meant for you if this is your favorite song.

Pile 2

Charm: Cactus

You may see cacti as signs from the universe or have a very strong emotional attachment to them due to a certain memory. I feel like a lot of people are attracted to you, but they feel that you will reject or hurt them if they get too close. Or you consciously or subconsciously hurt people when they get too close. You might think you don't deserve love, which is NOT TRUE. Love isn't something that has to be deserved! But if it were, you most certainly deserve it!

Flower: Freesia

Yellow freesias symbolize joy, renewal, and friendship. It is the go-to flower to convey to someone that you trust them. You are incredibly trustworthy, someone to whom your loved ones come for advice. You are a great listener, are very delicate and tactful in your interactions with others.

Significator: IX. The Hermit

You are doing a lot of self-reflection right now, sometimes the pondering even turns into daydreams. You may also be connecting with and thinking about your spiritual/religious beliefs. You are looking to understand the light that illuminates your path. You may have started meditating, or you should start! Spiritual awakening is happening or coming soon! You could be isolating yourself at the moment as well.

Astro: Jupiter and Libra

There is a high chance that you have Libra or Sagittarius placements. You may be air dominant. You may be Jupiter/Venus dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

The words that I kept thinking about at this point in the reading were "letting karma do its job" and "visions of the future". You may be clairvoyant! But most of you act a lot like the Justice tarot card, you like balance and fairness, and have a life philosophy based on these ideas. Your higher education might've played a big role in this.

What you need advice on:

II of Cups (reversed) and Queen of Swords

Someone may be rationalizing or overthinking a perceived imbalance in a relationship. Of course, the Queen of Swords, likely an air placement, is intelligent, they may be right in their thinking but because of the advice received, I believe their judgment is clouded by insecurity. They may feel unworthy of what they receive, seeing that you chose the cactus charm and have libra as an astro card, it is very likely that this is you but this may be your person as well, both options are possible.

Advice:

King of Cups and IV of Swords (reversed)

See, the King of Cups is upright, this person, very likely a water placement, is very emotionally mature, compassionate, and understanding. Whereas the swords person is exhausted and stagnant due to the deep contemplation happening. I feel they may also be insecure, causing the overthinking. If this is you, trust me, you deserve the King of Cups! If this is your person, make them realize that they deserve you! They need a lot of reassurance.

1. Agrimony and 7. Chestnut Bud and Morning Glory

Love, whether romantic or platonic, requires hard work, determination, and affection. Agrimony talks about a person that needs balance, both inside and outside. You may find it by showing more of yourself, especially by starting with your loved ones. Because you might not be used to it, start little by little, and observe how accepting those you love can be. Chestnut Bud talks about focus and learning from experience. For me, it's another confirmation that someone is overthinking, see the girl looking very melancholic, whereas their counterpart is goofing around. Don't take life too seriously! Have fun with your loved one!

Pile 3

Charm: Leaf

You might see certain trees or leaves as signs from the universe. When I picked up this charm I immediately thought "Leave!" So if you were thinking about a voyage, there's your sign, just be mindful of covid regulations, please. The idea of falling also popped up, so you might be falling for someone rn or feeling like you're in a perpetual fall emotionally.

Flower: Orchid

I would just like to point out that, although this orchid dried white, it was actually a baby purple orchid when alive. I will therefore explain both colors: purple orchids represent royalty, admiration, and respect, whereas white ones symbolize purity and innocence. But they are, no matter what color, always a symbol of luxury, delicate beauty, and virility.

Significator: 0. The Fool

You may be starting smth new with confidence, smth you haven't done before, making you a bit inexperienced, but still willing to take the leap of faith. OR you may be acting foolishly by looking back or the opposite way of the thing you'd do with confidence. Let me explain, as you can see the Astro cards are both looking in one direction, with determination, and confidence. Whereas The Fool is looking the opposite way. Your significator may be saying that you're being foolish to look the other way, wondering what-ifs.

Astro: Sagittarius and Mars

There is a high chance that you have Sagittarius, Aries, or Scorpio placements. You may be fire dominant. You may be Jupiter/Mars dominant/ruled. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

You have a clear goal that you can easily reach through your actions. Look at Mars' demeanor, he knows Sagittarius is hitting the target. Do not doubt yourself, there's nothing to worry about. Stay focused!

What you need advice on:

XI. Justice (reversed) and Queen of Cups

Clearly, there is a decision to be made here, and you really want to listen to your heart. And you're questioning whether you should? I just want to reassure you, the Queen of Cups is highly in tune with their intuition and their emotions, you should trust yourself.

Advice:

X of Swords (reversed) and II of Pentacles

You are clearly in pain, whether or not it is talking about this decision that is eating you up. Healing and recovery are important right now! It's time to stop resisting an inevitable end, and start recovering. Look, the reversal allows for the swords to just fall out of your back, just look inwards! Don't forget to balance work with fun, you deserve to relax! Another way to see this is that you are restricting yourself by seeing this as a choice, why not do both? Although, if we are talking about people here, there better be a mutual agreement on polygamy! I will not invite you to cheat! If we are talking about activities, you are capable of doing both if it's too hard to choose, you just need to figure out how to balance them. A specific message is that some of you want to go back to doing smth you've dreamt of doing as a child, if that is the case, pls do it, at least as a hobby!

13. Gorse and 32. Vine and Trumpet Gentian

There is a need to heal some inner wounds. I immediately thought of inner child work when I saw the Trumpet Gentian in combination with the Vine. Vine talks about acts of service and leadership skills, try parenting yourself/your inner child, give yourself the love that you may have lacked as a kid. You are worthy of it! Gorse is all about perspective and imagination. Do a brainstorming of possible outcomes depending on the decision you take, you can do this alone, but the input of loved ones that can be honest with you would do wonders. Don't forget your future can go in many different ways, and whichever decision you take is the right one!

Pile 4

Charm: Angel

You may see angels or angel numbers as signs from the universe. You are a person that is divinely guided and divinely protected. It seems to me like you have a very strong intuition or are very aware of your divine gifts.

Flower: Rose

Of course, roses are always symbolic of love. Therefore I believe it is more note-worthy here to talk about the size. This is a tiny rose. Just like the carnation bud, it did not have time to grow and is now immortalized in its youth stage. You may be inexperienced in love, or hold naive beliefs about it. You might be experiencing youthful romance right now.

Significator: XV. The Devil

What I find interesting here is that you got the angel charm with the devil significator. This is very conflicting energy. The sentence that I kept thinking throughout the reading is "wolf in sheep clothing" or "sheep in wolf's clothing", I kept mixing up the words, just very contradictory energy. The way you present yourself to the world is very different from how you truly are. You might also be a person prone to obsessing over people, things, interests, etc. I also would like to note here that this pile was the hardest to get the cards, the amount of shuffling I did here until the cards flew made me sweat hahaha. It's also a very confusing reading. Therefore, I believe you carry a lot of confusion yourself, although your intuition is incredibly powerful, you might suffer from being very paranoid, and sometimes being unable to differentiate your intuition from your delusions. I also think you're very secretive, you do not want people to know or understand you.

Astro: Neptune and Moon

There is a high chance that you have Pisces or Cancer placements. You may be water dominant. You may be Neptune/Moon dominant/ruled. You could have a Neptune/Moon aspect. This could also apply to the person you need advice on if that is the case.

"This is a time of great psychic sensitivity for you. Trust your intuition and follow its guidance." You should try to differentiate emotions from intuition, I know it's hard, but they are different things, and it's very important to tell them apart! Your dreams may hold messages, try having a dream journal and interpreting them if you don't do that already.

What you need advice on:

IX of Wands (reversed) and V of Swords (reversed)

As you can see ALL of the tarot cards I've received in this reading are reversed, implying inner conflicts that require inner change/work. You might've said/done smth you now regret, and you hate yourself for it, you may also be incredibly paranoid that others will find out. You want the paranoia to end. You want to make amends, to reconciliate/atone, but are unsure on whether you should do it. Perhaps you don't feel emotionally prepared to reopen that wound.

Advice:

V. The Hierophant (reversed) and VII of Wands (reversed)

What I noticed here is that The Hierophant mirrors The Devil, not as perfectly as The Lovers, but it is incredibly similar. Once again that energy of opposition, contradiction, and confusion appears, "the wolf in sheep's clothing". For some, my fixation on this phrase could be a warning. For others an invitation to look in the mirror... Try looking at the situation from the other person's point of view! I'm not saying you are a "wolf in sheep's clothing", but that might be how you're being perceived. You are exhausted, remorse is eating up all of your energy. The Hierophant is saying that you should stay true to your personal beliefs, so if you believe apologizing is necessary to move on, do it!

This could be unrelated and for a specific person, but don't be afraid of challenging the status quo! If it hurts none, do as you will, embody your true self! I just want to remind you that going against your loved one's idea of "normalcy" is not hurting them, it's loving yourself. But remember that you also don't owe anyone a "coming out", you are valid whether or not you tell people! Do whatever your heart tells you and please be safe!

!!! : Of course, this doesn't count if what's challenging the status quo doesn't respect others' identity/ sexuality/ ethnicity/ religion/ etc. If challenging the status quo comes from a place of hate please block me. Nobody is using this reading as a sign to do some fucked up shit.

3. Beech and 2. Aspen and Lily

When I saw Beech I immediately thought "talk to someone, or you could spiral." Beech talks about self-acceptance and self-compassion. You must first accept yourself as you are, an imperfect human being, like all humans, before starting to work on embodying your highest self. Stay open-minded! Aspen, on the other hand, invites you to connect with others, not only for advice or consoling but for quality time! I have a feeling that you have very high morals, but having them isn't enough, you must act accordingly!

Thank you for reading! Love you all.♡

You can buy me a coffee if you feel called to do so! This is never necessary, but always appreciated! ♡

#this took SO long #im sorry the messages seem to be all over the place and not necessarily coherent there were just a LOT of possibilities #take what resonates #pick a card #pick a pile #fortune telling #divination #collective reading #collective tarot reading #free tarot #tarot #tarot cards #tarot reading #oracle #oracles #oracle cards #witchcraft #enamouredfae #enamouredfaepickacard

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hellsdogs · 6 months ago

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You have nowhere else to go. She never did, she never will. He never did, he never will. His apartment is a luxurious place a few blocks from hers. Spacious, furnished with modern, almost brand-new pieces, and with a peaceful view of the city, it is the kind of place he dreamed of when he was younger, the kind of place he would have worked tirelessly to provide for his sister. It’s a gift from Inagawa Oyabun, the leader of the syndicate—a gift he never spent much time in. In his first years, he preferred the company of the boys, hanging out, enjoying the hostess clubs, engaging in late-night chats by the walls in the streets of Kabukicho. It was the silence he couldn’t stand, the silence of knowing nobody was waiting for him when he returned to his apartment. He could have had that. Countless times he could have been with someone—those girls he kept around for no real reason, those girls who would do anything for him, those girls he never truly wanted to connect with. Countless times he could have chosen the roommate life with another brother from the clan, but no. Despite hating the silence and the loneliness, he would naturally gravitate towards it. And then... he met her. Suddenly, he had somewhere to go. Her hand is warm against his jawline as he looks up at her. The sun is setting in her tiny apartment, the colors shifting, dancing on their carnations. Her eyes have darkened, her aura, her voice, as well. He doesn’t resist when she takes away his cigarette, when she forbids him to smoke inside. He could swat her hand away, scoff, and take out another cigarette like he would sometimes do back in the days—but this time, he just doesn’t. He doesn't really care about the smoke does he? He got what he wanted : she left her work, she's here, with him, that's what he wanted right. She leaves for the bathroom, and that's when old memories dance through his mind. Have they always been this way? Him and Her? He remembers the first mornings they shared together after she became his. Kimura doesn’t sleep much; he wakes up early and so, he would watch her still asleep by his side: wasn’t the worst thing she ever did to kiss him the day he had a knife against her throat? And well, he kissed her back. “Good morning, Doll,” he would whisper huskily at dawn, his eyes remaining on her, knowing he could never let her go. Came the day he had no choice but to do what he feared, having to let her go—he's a dog, a well-raised one who obeyed his hierarchy, who bowed down, who apologized, who accepted his fate. To be yakuza comes with responsibilities, it comes with consequences, and that consequence was to have nowhere else to go, again. His anger he never learned to dissect, understand, tame, control, hence why the days that followed, anger replaced morals and this anger—this anger he started taking out on her. He who never enjoyed silence, with her, he started finding solace and beauty in it. There is a world of Silence around Akina, one he entered. Her words are few sometimes, the way she expresses herself is silent. The sunlight on her skin in the morning in her tiny bedroom is silent. The joy she feels when discovering the scents of new moisturizers is silent. The pleasure she takes riding him in the middle of the night, her breathing fastening, her hips rolling, his hand firm around her waist - is silent. Her tears, are silent. Perhaps the way she could ever hurt him in return would be silent, too.

She is in the kitchen now, in the shorts and cotton shirt, and she turns her back on him—a sight that is familiar, a scene he knows by heart. He doesn’t like when she cries. It is unexplainable, whether it comes from guilt or from the unease of not knowing what to say. Many would say a man like Kimura, a hound with no morals does not experience guilt, nor remorse, nor regret. Perhaps he wouldn't put a word on it himself either, right now he just wants her to stop crying. He is quite good with words, he knows how to play around them, he knows what to say to convince, to negociate, to manipulate, to play, to seduce, to hurt, to mock, but he never knew what to say to ... to... To. Some days, she would cry and his anger would only grow, he would grab her by the arm, he would yell at her to stop and yell again and again and shake the shit out her - mad. He stands up then, his steps down the floor leading him to her. Only the sound of the knife hitting the wood as she slices the salami can be heard. He stands right behind her, his torso pressed against her back, the thin fabrics of their cotton apparels meeting, their skins touching through it. He doesn’t interrupt her task. His skin against hers is warm, as are the palms of his hands, his touch crawling over her exposed stomach to slowly wrap around her frame. He holds her from behind, won’t let go until she stops crying and he has all the time in the world - he won’t let go even if she tries to fight her way out of his grip, neither. His chin against the back of her skull, his nose searching for her hair, her scent, in silence.

#犬 : 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐚. / the hound.#犬 : 𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐚. / interactions.#Well I

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softboywriting · 4 years ago

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Mi Alma | Santiago “Pope” Garcia

Summary: After years of tension, you and Santiago finally get together at your best friend’s wedding. [Film: Triple Frontier] [Post-Film] [Flirting] [Making Out]

Word Count: 6.7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Frankie and Tiia's wedding is unlike any other you've been to, and you've been to a few. You're the last of your friends to get married, if it ever happens. You're picky with your men, have high standards. It's fine. You don't mind being alone for a while. Drama and games are not in the cards for you so you won't settle for someone. But this isn't about you and your love life, or so you think.

The couple was never quite normal. Frankie coming from a Catholic upbringing and since shunning it to become his own man and follow his heart. Tiia has always been a free spirit and very much into the unknown and world around her. They make an interesting yet perfect match and their wedding is no run of the mill church ceremony with a bunch of people in pews for hours on end. No. They have quite the opposite.

For starters the wedding is outdoors, a forested area just behind the house Frankie and Tiia bought last year. It's beautiful, the trees in full bloom, greenery as far as the eye can see. There wasn't a ton of prep to be done for the ceremony, just setting up chairs and arranging flowers among the natural foliage. Orange and yellow, those are Tiia's colors. Roses, carnations, peonies, you name it. She took everything the florist could get her in those colors. Frankie didn't care, he said he would love anything she loves. There is an arch made of wood that a friend of yours specially crafted just for the happy couple. It's their wedding gift from him, as Tiia will put it in her garden after the ceremony.

The day Tiia showed you her dress you knew that the wedding would be magical. It's non traditional of course, very Greek goddess meets fairy queen. Draped white and cream fabric, gold accents, braided embellishments. It's incredible and she looks completely stunning in it. It isn't until the day of the wedding that you see her veil, natural colored faux antlers made into a crown like setting atop her head. She is beautiful.

You find yourself on the day of the wedding getting ready and waiting for the ceremony to start. You've not been told who you are to walk with. Tiia said she didn't tell any of the bridesmaids who they're walking with because she didn't want to cause any problems. Honestly you're not sure what that means, you only know that your friend Caiti would have a problem if she was paired up with Benny because of a past relationship. You check your reflection in the small mirror decor beside the door you're meant to go out. You look fine. Good. Great actually. You twist your finger around a loose bit of hair by your temple and smooth the top of the dress that matches Tiia's flowy one. Damn good.

"You're up." Says Tiia's brother, opening the patio doors for you.

You take a deep breath, pull up the hem of your dress and step out. The plan is that you meet your groomsman at the end of the wrap around deck and you walk to the forest together. You can't help but wonder who it will be. Any of the guys would be great, you're familiar with them all. Benny? He is single currently. Will? No, his fiance is in the bridal party. Frankie's brother? Maybe but...no. Santiago. Oh Lord have mercy. If it's Santiago you're going to have to reach deep into yourself and find some inner calm. Every time the two of you are together with the crew it's like fire. It is undeniable the way you connect but you have never- shit.

At the end of the deck is Santiago. He looks insanely...tempting. You say a prayer to any force listening. Did he have to look so good? Tailored slacks, a deep blue button down, no tie and sleeve rolled up, even the watch on his wrist is sexy. Fucking hell you could just turn around and run back into the house. Demand another partner.

"Hermosa..." Santiago mutters as you approach.

"What's that?"

Santiago snaps his eyes to yours and smiles warmly. "Nothing, I was just thinking out loud." He offers his arm and you take it.

"What does that mean? Hermosa?"

He leads you carefully down the steps into the grass. "It means beautiful."

"Oh...oh!" You flush, heat rising from your chest. "Thank you."

Santiago chuckles softly and lifts your hand to kiss it. "Every woman should be told they look beautiful."

"You're a sweet talker today."

"I've had a drink or two. Frankie and I had a talk before the wedding, pre marital nerves."

"I can't imagine. I've never gotten that far into a relationship."

Santiago's eyes meet yours as you glance over to gauge his reaction. He raises his eyebrows and you raise yours. It's always like this. Silent conversations. They're louder than any words you've ever exchanged. "Are you excited for Tiia?"

"Through the roof. She hasn't shut up about Frankie since they met. I'm glad she's found her person."

"Me too." He stops as you arrive at the archway. "You never know when you'll meet the right person."

"Yeah, I guess so."

He steps away, touch lingering on your hand as he parts. "Who knows, maybe you've already met them."

You look at him and he says nothing more, just gives a little smile. He knows exactly what he's doing. Fueling the fire. That's it. This wedding, you're getting Santiago Garcia.

______________________

The entire ceremony you stared at each other and it is unlike ever before, there was no conversation in your eyes. It was just a game of who could out stare who. Until Frankie began reading his vows, then Santiago's gaze changed. It flicked between you and Frankie, soft and loving.

There were tears, actual tears when Frankie began to talk about how he felt about Tiia and their bond. All of the guys were crying, proud of their best friend to be so happy and excited to take this step in his life. But Santiago...he couldn't look away from you. You try not to look away from Tiia and Frankie, knowing they deserve your undivided attention and not Santiago. It's hard. Santiago's eyes...they're undeniable, irresistible, commanding. He is making it hard not to think about what it would be like to be in your friends shoes, or lack thereof because she is actually barefoot under that dress. What would a wedding with Santiago look like? A beautiful tailored suit, beard grown out a bit for sure, messy curls, bowtie or regular tie. Hmm. And your dress, white or blush? Formal or fun? You've never thought about your own wedding and yet here you are just-

You snap out of your dream world when the guests begin to clap, the ceremony is over. You raise your hands and clap, smiling at your friends. Santiago gestures for you to join him as the bride and groom walk back down the path. You're meant to follow after, being in the wedding party and all.

Santiago's hand slides across your lower back the moment you're in reach. You swear you can feel your skin tingle all the way up to the back of your neck. "That was incredible."

"It was a very pretty ceremony."

"Are you feeling well?"

You frown and look at him, he raises his eyebrows. "Yes? Do I look ill?"

He shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. You looked...distracted."

"Can't say I wasn't."

Santiago gives a soft knowing hum in response and nothing more. Kindling. He's throwing kindling into this fire now. The son of a bitch. No. You would never call him that. He's too good. "Ride with me?" He says and you realize you've walked together to the front of the house where everyone is parked.

"I-...Benny."

"Benny?"

"I promised Benny I'd ride with him. I'm supposed to be his DD tonight and care for his truck should he get a little out of hand."

Santiago smiles softly. "I see. I'll meet you at the hall then?"

You nod.

He lays a hand on your cheek and presses a kiss to the opposite side. "Drive safe."

Your heart threatens to explode and you're stuck standing there like a deer in headlights. There is no way you're going to survive this wedding.

_____________________

The reception is when things really kick off, it usually is though isn't it. The reception is held at a party rental hall in town, their house not being ready for so many guests and a large dinner and dancing. You ride with Benny, having to just take a moment and figure out what your next move is with Santiago.

"You and Pope, huh?" Benny says, looking over at you. "When's that happening?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on anyone with eyes could see you two tryin’ to undress each other up there."

You stifle a noise of protest because you know that if you make a scene about it then Benny will be even nosier. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah alright sweetheart." Benny laughs to himself, a quick breathy little chuckle. "If a girl looked at me like that for an hour, we'd be kicking boots in the back of this truck right now."

"You're gross Benny."

"Never said I wasn't." He grins and does a little tongue click. "Pope is a good man, the best I know. Give'em a chance."

"Sure, thanks for the pep talk Benny."

"Anytime sweetheart."

Once you arrive at the reception you immediately run into Santiago. No, literally you smack into him when you step in the doors. He seemed to be on his way outside as you were going in. His familiar spicy cologne flls your nose and your eyes cross for a moment. You know it's him before he speaks, before you see his face.

His hand comes up, steadying you with it on your back. "Easy there, honey."

Honey. Fuck. You're so fucked. "Sorry, I was just trying to go in."

"Mmm. I forgot my phone in the car, I'll be back."

"I'll be seated?" You say awkwardly.

He chuckles and steps away from you. "Go on, don't wait for me."

"I wasn't going to?" You step in and look around for your table. It should be near the front. You look for the names and sure enough there you are right next to... Santiago. "Great."

"Is something wrong?"

You jump and Will chuckles. "No, I'm fine."

"Where'd Pope go?"

"His phone."

Will nods. "Have you seen Benny?"

You shrug. "We drove together but I've no idea where he went. Check the bar?"

"I checked there, I bet he's out back." Will sighs and heads for the emergency exit door that's propped open at the far end of the building.

You take a seat and Santiago returns, sliding behind you and taking his seat next to you. The chairs are close, the table being a little small for the amount of people seated at it. You can feel Santiago's warmth, his scent filling your nose. Oh how you love that cologne. It's one of two he's worn since you met and this one just nails it right on the head. If you knew the brand you would buy it and drown yourself in it.

His hand comes down on your thigh and you feel like the world has stopped and begun to burn around you. It is absolutely no mistake, he knows what he's doing. His fingers flex against the loose fabric of the dress and it falls open a bit along the side split, exposing your skin beneath.

Will stands from the end of your table and taps his glass a few times. He is going to make a speech. Of course, it's Will and he is the best speech giver you've ever met. You try to distract yourself, wondering how many wedding speeches he has given. If you ask him he will know. If you ask him how many of anything he has or does he will know. You smile to yourself, eyes flicking to Santiago. Will is the reason any of this is happening. If he hadn't given Santiago the coordinates to the ravine with Lorea's money, Santiago would have never gone after it, never gifted the wedding fund to Tiia and Frankie.

Santiago's hand shifts and you're acutely aware of its position further up your leg, his pinky finger brushing your tender inner thigh. Should you tell him to stop? He didn't ask to touch you, and you didn't tell him yes or no. Did he need to ask though? Honestly you don't mind aside from the fact that it's driving you crazy. He must know what he is doing to you, how you feel. He has always been physically affectionate with everyone, hugging, cheek kisses, hands on arms and backs. His love language is very obviously touching.

Will begins to wrap up, and you raise your glass with everyone else to toast. Santiago grabs his glass with his non dominant hand, not letting your thigh go. "To many years of love, happiness and joy. Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

"I'm up next." Santiago says, giving you a squeeze that makes your stomach jump.

You watch him stand and he taps his glass. You have no idea why but your heart is pounding in your chest. His ass is in perfect view, his thighs...oh his thighs. You decide to get a little retribution for the thigh touching and you lay your hand on the back of his leg, just above the bend of his knee. It's not much, just a gentle touch and nowhere near sexual. You're sure he's burning up though.

"Tiia, the day Frankie met you I knew his fate was sealed. I had not once seen my brother so engrossed in a woman than when he talked about you. When you and I finally met, and I saw that red hair of yours, I knew there was something special. Hermana, eres fuego. You have made Frankie a better man, a calmer and more gentle man. Without you I don't know where he would be." Santiago raises his glass higher. "I hope to find a love like yours someday. Cheers to new family, life and a beautiful union!"

Your hand falls from his leg as he sits down and he slides his back over your thigh. "That was a nice speech," you whisper.

"Thank you. I know it wasn't nearly as long and detailed as Will's but I tried." He swipes his thumb back and forth. "Even if I had a little bit of a distraction."

You smile and give him an innocent look.

"Malo..." He mutters softly and tears his gaze from yours to Benny who's standing at the table opposite.

You reach out and run your hand over his shoulder, settling with it on the back of his neck. Your fingers slip into the curls there and he lets out a subtle shaky breath that you don't miss for a second. Two can participate in his game of touches and you're going to play hardball.

Benny makes his speech, short but sweet and meaningful. Tom's wife is up next. Before she stands you make eye contact with Tiia. You could feel her stare before you caught it. She gives a little smirk.

"Honey, you're going to make me fall asleep." Santiago whispers, ducking his head close to you after a minute or two.

"That's not quite my goal."

He slips his hand down your inner thigh and you feel heat swell between your legs. "What is your goal?"

"What is your goal, Santiago."

"I-"

"Thank you everyone for coming and for your well wishes. It means the world to Tiia and I that we're surrounded by so much love." Frankie says and everyone cheers softly. "Let's have dinner and cake!"

"Bride or groom?" Santiago asks, close to your ear.

"H-Huh?"

"The cakes. Bride or groom's cake?" He points to the table with the two cakes on it. "I'll get you a piece."

You try to remember what kind they both are but you're drawing a blank. All you can focus on is Santiago and you feel bad. This day should be about your friends and here you are wetting your fucking pants for Santiago Garcia. Christ.

"Honey?" He purrs and your mouth falls open as he squeezes your thigh. "I'll get one of each."

"Y-yeah. "

Santiago stands and leaves the table. The lack of heat on your leg is a shock. You're still burning up but it's nowhere near as bad as when he's close. Tiia comes over and leans against your table, she grins knowingly at you.

"How's it going over here?"

"Fine? Should it not be?"

"Is he being nice?"

"Santi?"

You flush and lean your head into your hand. "Santiago. Yes, he's being nice. Why? He is always a sweetheart."

Santiago returns with two plates of cake and sets them on the table. He grabs Tiia's cheek and gives her a kiss to the temple. "Hermana."

"Problema." Tiia giggles and Santiago rolls his eyes.

"I am not trouble." He takes his seat beside you and gives a pointed look at Frankie nearby laughing with Will and Benny. "Hay problema."

Tiia pushes Santiago's head and he laughs. "Frankie is not trouble! He's a good boy."

"Mmmm." Santiago says, raising his eyebrows. "Good boys don't have the most fun." He catches your gaze and winks.

"You're insufferable. Enjoy the cake, lovely." Tiia says to you and heads off to meet her new husband.

Santiago dips his fork into the slice of white and yellow frosted cake, the bride's cake, and brings it up to your lips. "Try it?"

"I can feed myself," you giggle and he bumps the frosted bit against your lips. You open and take the cake in. It's delicious and you remember now. It's an apple spiced white cake with caramel cream center.

"Good?" He asks, cutting a bit for himself. "Oh wow that's amazing."

You nod and reach for your own fork but Santiago pushes it away. "Hey-"

"I got it." He smirks, cutting a slice of the groom's cake. Chocolate with butter rum filling. "Open up."

"Give me my fork, Santiago."

He shakes his head and you reach for it. He knocks your hand away and holds your wrist loosely. "Ah, I said open up."

"Santi..."

His eyes go darker than you've ever seen and you imagine they must be lust filled to be so heavy. "Open up." He says once more, but this time with more authority.

You open your mouth obediently and he presses the fork down gently to your tongue as he slides it out. "Mmmm."

"Better than the last one?" He asks, cutting another piece and holding it up for you. You take it in as well and he smiles.

This is far too intimate. What the fuck are you doing? You're not even together, you're not dating, neither of you have explicitly said this was happening. Not to mention you're at your friend's wedding, in front of people and he's... he's driving you insane.

"Excuse me." You mutter softly, pushing away from the table and leaving a very confused Santiago behind. You head for the emergency exit and take a deep breath of the cool spring air as you step outside. You need to breathe.

___________________

Minutes tick by as you sit on the fence post that blocks a patio area from the parking lot. You figured Santiago would have come for you by now, but you didn't expect it. He's too sweet to impede upon your personal space when he knows you definitely needed it because of his actions. Footsteps behind you draw your attention away from the passing traffic on the road nearby. It's Will.

"What're you doing out here all alone?"

"Getting some fresh air."

"I can understand that." Will takes a seat next to you. "I saw you head out here earlier. I figured I'd give you a little bit before coming to check on you."

"Thanks. Am I missing anything?"

"Tiia is going to throw the bouquet soon. Do you want to catch it?"

You laugh softly to yourself. Do you want to? Do you want to be the next friend to marry? You're the only one not married besides Benny. The rest of the guests are family or friends who are married. "Maybe Benny should give it a try."

Will snorts and you laugh at the sound. "You'd need tempered steel to tie that man down. He's too wild, too free to settle down."

"Yeah, Benny is...Benny."

Will taps your arm with the back of his hand. "C'mon, let's go see who gets the bouquet."

"Alright." You slide off the fence and head back into the hall with Will.

Inside you see a crowd of people near the bride and grooms table. Tiia has her back to the crowd and you watch as she swings the bundle of flowers backwards. There is a collective gasp and you strain to see who caught the flowers.

As the crowd clears you see Santiago standing there with the bouquet. He's laughing, saying something to Frankie's aunt nearby and then he sees you. Your heart races. He gestures for you to come to him.

"Why did you-"

"For you." He holds the bouquet up and kisses your cheek. "I thought you might want them."

"Thank you. They're pretty."

"Are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, why- oh. When I went outside. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to just run out on you." You lick your lips and look down from his gaze. "I just needed some air."

Santiago cups your cheek. "Hey, look at me."

You look at him and it's a mistake. Your heart pounds, threatening to break through your ribs. "Yes?"

He leans in whispers, "Did I go too far earlier?"

"The cake?"

He nods.

"It was unexpected, but no." You can feel a flush rising in your chest. "I mean you've always been affectionate but we haven't really...talked about it."

Santiago chuckles softly. "I suppose we haven't. It's always been there but we've never acknowledged it. Are you uncomfortable? I know I'm a few years older and-"

"Santiago."

"Yes?"

"We're in the middle of a wedding. Maybe we should discuss this later? More privately?" You look around at the crowd that's pretty much dispersed.

He cracks a sheepish smile and tucks a bit of hair behind your ear, gliding his fingertips along your cheek before bumping your lip with his thumb. "Mas tarde, cariña," he murmurs.

You lick your lip where he touched and he doesn't miss it, eyes snapping to your mouth. "You know that I know limited Spanish."

"I said we'll talk later." He puts his arm around you and guides you toward your table. "Let's clear the way for the married couple's first dance."

_____________________

The first dance doesn't happen right away. The removal of the garter happens first. For those unfamiliar, it's like the tossing of the bouquet but generally for the men. The husband removes his wife's garter, a thin band of fabric worn around the thigh, and tosses it to the crowd. The one who catches it is said to be the next to marry. It's a symbol of good luck.

You watch as Tiia takes a seat in a chair brought out to the center floor. She is bright pink and you can't help but laugh a little. Frankie comes around the chair, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He says something you can't make out, but Tiia smiles.

"Come on Frankie!" Benny hollers.

"Oh be quiet Benny!" Frankie quips, flipping off his friend. "Not like you want it!"

"The hell I don't!"

Everyone laughs.

Santiago's hand slides over your knee, pushing the dress aside and allowing it to fall open. He can't keep his hands off of you it seems.

Frankie kneels down and pushes Tiia's dress up to expose her legs.

Santiago's hand inches up your leg, massaging his fingertips tenderly into the soft skin. You spare him a glance and his focus seems to be on the married couple like everyone else.

Frankie leans in and grabs the garter with his teeth and the guests cheer him on. You attempt to clap but your brain is elsewhere, short circuiting on the arousal nerves between your legs.

"Do you want it?" Santiago purrs in your ear and you shiver. Why did that have to sound like such a loaded question. Do you want what? Him? The garter? His attention?

"W-what?"

"The garter."

You turn your head to look at him and reply when suddenly you're smacked in the face with something. You jump, startled by the sudden sensation, and look down at the table where the white garter is sitting on it.

Somewhere Benny is hollering wildly, and Frankie says something along the lines of how you're the lucky lady. You don't hear it really because Santiago grabs the garter and rubs it between his fingers, smiling at you playfully. His other hand is still on your leg, farther up and dangerously close to your underwear.

"I'd love to see you in this." He says, fingers flexing on your skin. "And nothing else."

"Santiago!" You whisper sharply and he leans in close.

His lips meet yours and your heart stops. The world stops. His hand leaves your thigh and slides around to your hip, the other cradles your head, angling your face for better access.

It's like years of tension have finally broken and now it's coming out like breach in a dam. You reach for him, not sure what to grab but you land on his hair and his shoulder. He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing past your lips to roll against yours. He tastes like minty gum and you can't get enough.

He grips your hips with both hands and hauls you over onto his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of two bodies. You can't care, this is a dream come true. You don't want to stop kissing him because if you do, it feels like it might never happen again.

"Baby," Santiago groans into your mouth as you roll your hips down against his lap, desperate for some release. "Baby we gotta stop."

"No," you lick into his mouth desperately and he chases your lips, biting gently to slow you down.

His hand finds your hair and grips firmly, pulling you back. "Listen to me."

You stare at him, eyes locked on to his. They're so full of promises of what's to come. He looks as wrecked as you do, you're sure. "Yes?"

He grins slowly, leaning in for a soft kiss. "God you're beautiful like this."

You try to return the kiss, chasing his lips as he pulls back but his grip in your hair is firm.

"We're still at the wedding." He says softly. "I don't think we should be grinding on each other in such a public setting."

You lean back, settling yourself back on his thighs. Reality comes creeping in, a cold rush of embarrassment rising up your spine. He's right. You're at the wedding still, everyone can see you right now. You got so caught up in the euphoria that you forgot where you were.

"Santiago, you son of a bitch." Benny says from behind you. "You finally did it."

You turn and look back while Santiago leans over to see Benny. "Go away."

"Oh I will, I'll leave you two to face suck like teenagers. I just wanted to say it's about time. How was it?"

"Benny." Santiago says warningly.

You look between the two of them. "How was the kiss?"

Benny nods.

"Good, really good? Why?"

Santiago groans.

"Do you know why we call him Pope?" Benny asks and you shake your head. "It's because he brings you closer to God when he gets his hands on you."

"Benny! Fuck off!" Santiago shouts and throws a fork on the table at him. Benny dodges the projectile and runs off laughing. "God damn menace."

You run your hand through his curls, brushing your thumb over a little spot of grays peeking through. "Is that true?"

"Is what true? The Pope thing?"

"Yeah. Is that why they call you Pope?"

Santiago smiles softly. "It is. It's stupid and childish but-"

"I like it." You slide off his lap and lean in close to his ear. "You took me closer to God with a kiss, I can only imagine what more will be like." You grab his hand and before he can respond you step back, pulling his arm up. "Dance with me?"

_____________________

You and Santiago dance for a long time, slow and sweet. After about the tenth song he kisses your temple and says he needs to take a seat, his knees are killing him. You part from him and he goes to sit with Will and Frankie who are near the bar. You turn and head to the bride and grooms table to sit with Tiia.

"Hey you," Tiia says with a playful smirk. "I thought you were gonna get eaten alive earlier."

"I'm sorry." You sink down into Frankie's chair and she laughs. "I just lost my mind for a few minutes there. Was everyone staring?"

"No, everyone got up to dance and get food from the buffett. I noticed, obviously, because I've been watching you all night."

"Creepy."

Tiia pushes your shoulder. "Oh shut up. I set you up, but I never could have guessed this outcome."

"You set me up?"

"Yeah? I picked Santiago to be your best man. I knew the two of you have had chemistry since you met. I just gave you a little nudge in the right direction." She looks smug as she takes a sip of her wine. "You're welcome."

"You're a troublemaker."

"Matchmaker, thank you."

You roll your eyes. "Maybe too good of a match maker. I sucked face while you had your first dance."

She laughs, nearly spitting out her wine. "I don't need everyone to watch me dance with my husband to validate our marriage. You're my best friend, the fact that you are just as happy on my wedding day as I am, that means the world to me. You deserve a good man, and Santiago is a very good man."

"You really aren't mad I didn't pay attention?"

"Nope, because I can guarantee you I'll be all over Frankie at your wedding."

"My wedding? Yeah we'll be in our sixties before that happens." You pick at a spot on the front of your dress, directing your focus elsewhere in hopes of ending this conversation. "No one wants to marry me."

Tiia kicks you. "Bullshit. If you asked Santiago right now to run away and get married at a little chapel in Vegas he'd say yes."

"No he wouldn't. He's not reckless."

"Yes, he is. When it comes to you there is nothing he wouldn't do."

"Whatever."

"Whatever," she says mockingly. "Do you have any idea what he has told Frankie?"

You narrow your eyes. "You're lying."

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"Once. A birthday present that I figured out."

Tiia rolls her eyes. "That doesn't count."

"Why would Frankie tell you about what he and Santiago discuss?"

"Because I'm nosey and I ask. Plus, you're my best friend and you two have obvious chemistry."

"So what did he say?"

Tiia points to Santiago as he makes his way across the room. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Tiia!"

"What's my two favorite women chatting about huh?" Santiago smiles and hands you a glass.

You look down into the glass. You can't drink today, you're Benny's designated driver.

"It's non alcoholic, don't worry."

"Thank you."

"She doesn't need alcohol to get a little crazy." Tiia teases, elbowing you from her seat. "She has a better drug, right Pope?"

Santiago chuckles. "You're never going to let us live that moment down huh?"

"Never. I was surprised you didn't just take her to the bathroom."

"Tiia!" You shove her and she cackles. "God!"

"I'm teasing you. Seriously, if you guys wanna get out of here and have a little fun I'll get someone to take Benny home." Tiia looks across the way at the table where Benny is telling some animated story. "Or he can sleep on the couch at me and Frankie's house. We'll drop him off before we go to the hotel."

Santiago shakes his head. "I'm not stepping out on your wedding, and I'm sorry for the behavior earlier. It's not the right time or place."

"You two are a match. She said the same thing when she came over. I'm not mad, I'm happy you're happy." Tiia stands and walks around the table to stand before Santiago. She lays a hand on his cheek before giving it a hard pat. "Problema."

"Un poco."

"Oh no you're big trouble, not little trouble." She says and shoves his head back playfully. "Go, make my girl happy."

Santiago smiles and kisses her forehead. "You heard the lady." He offers his hand to you. "Can I take you home?"

"One more dance?"

"I think I can manage that."

You follow Santiago out onto the dancefloor, hand in his as he lays his other on your waist. A slow song comes on, one you've heard a few times on the radio but never paid much attention to.

"I'm sorry about earlier." He says softly out of nowhere.

"I'm just as much to blame."

"I just got a little ahead of myself, like Benny said, I felt like a horny teenager."

You giggle and lean your head on his shoulder. "It's been a while, and we built this tension to a boiling point. We were bound to snap someday."

Santiago runs his hand up your back and cradles your neck loosely. "Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?"

"Yes, but I don't mind hearing it again."

He drops his head to your ear and places a little kiss on the outer shell. "You'd look even more beautiful in my bedroom."

A hot flush warms your cheeks. "Santi...cool it."

"I can't help it." He grins and you hear rather than see it. "I just want to eat you up."

"We can stay a bit longer." You kiss his throat and he lets out a quiet groan that you relish in, grinning big ear to ear against his skin. "It'll do you good to wait. You'll want it more."

_____________________

The sound of a cell phone ringing rips you from a deep sleep. It's unfamiliar, not your ringtone but shrill and annoying nonetheless. The room is bright, the sun shining through the cream colored blinds and past the sheer curtains. Everything is familiar but like you had seen it in a dream, nothing was quite the same as you remember. You sit up and look around. Yes. It's the same as last night, the lighting makes things look different is all.

"Make it stop," Santiago groans from beside you.

"I don't know where it is." You pat around the blankets, trying to find the source of noise. "It's your phone."

"Fuck." He sits up and you get a full view of his strong, bare back in the bright daylight. There are a few scars, but one big one just behind his shoulder gets your attention. It looks strange, like a paint splatter of pink skin against his tan complexion.

You reach out to touch the scar, trace it curiously. What on Earth made a scar like that. "Santi?"

"Just a minute baby." He leans over and your hand falls to the bed. He comes back up with the phone in hand and swipes the screen to deny the call.

You lay back and he crawls under the covers beside you.

"Now, good morning." He grins, touching your nose and you sniffle. "I hope you're not too sore."

"Me?" You giggle, rolling to face him head on. "I'd be more worried about you."

Santiago chuckles. "Because of my knees?"

"Yeah and your back." You slide your hand over his shoulder and explore the scar with your fingertips. "What's this one from?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Mmhmm."

"A bullet." He takes your hand away and threads his fingers between yours. "A sniper when I was twenty seven. We were on a mission somewhere in the Ukraine. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and boom." He chuckles softly. "It went straight through. I suppose I'm lucky, they were clearly aiming for something more vital and missed."

You play with his fingers and he watches. What do you say? Sorry? Wow? You know Santiago and the guys are ex military special forces. You know they all have their scars and close call stories. You've heard the others tell them over and over but Santiago...he has always been quiet.

"It's a lot to take in." He murmurs, bringing your knuckles up to kiss.

You laugh softly, more to yourself than anything. "I broke my leg falling out of a tree once."

Santiago chuckles. "Bet that hurt." He kisses your knuckles again and lets his lips linger. "It's okay if you're not sure how to respond."

"Thank you," you mutter sheepishly.

His phone starts ringing again and he sighs. He rolls over and grabs it, bringing it back to lay between the two of you. "It's Frankie."

"Answer it."

"Should I? You don't mind?"

You shake your head. "He might need you."

Santiago swipes to answer and presses the phone to his ear. "Buenos dias pendejo."

You smile and he gives you a cheeky grin. That's a little bit of Spanish you do know. "Be nice."

He mouths a quick, 'No' before speaking again. "Why are you calling me after your wedding night? Shouldn't you and Tiia be sleeping? I didn't give you that money to wake me up at the crack of dawn when you're meant to be boarding a plane to Hawaii for your honeymoon in a few hours."

"Hawaii sounds good." You snuggle down into the blankets, imagining the warm sun on your body.

"Yes she's fine." Santiago chuckles softly. "Did you want to talk to her?"

You raise your eyebrows and he gives you a wink.

"Here you go." He passes you the phone and you press it to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Did that dick make you stupid?" Tiia asks through a laugh.

"Shut up!" You laugh, rolling over onto your back. Santiago's arm snakes across your waist and he pulls you close, face in your shoulder. "I'll hang up on you."

"Really though, did you guys have a good night? I just wanted Frankie to call and make sure you got home okay."

"Yes, we got home okay. It was a good night."

Santiago hums against your skin, biting playfully at your jaw. "It could be a better morning."

"Which one of you said I love you first?"

"Tiia."

"I know it happened."

"Goodbye Tiia, I'm hanging up now."

"Oh you-"

You toss the phone into the pillows and close your eyes. Santiago lazily kisses your neck, his short beard giving you a bit of a burn on your shoulder.

"It was me." He whispers between kisses.

"Hmm?"

"I said it first."

"You could hear her?" You shift around and lay so you're face to face agan.

He nods. “Do you remember?"

"Mmm. You said I love you, mallma?"

He presses a kiss to your lips. "It's mi alma. Do you want to know what that means?"

"Yes."

"It means, my soul." He runs a hand through your hair and brings you close for another kiss. "It's a pet name for someone you really care deeply for."

You grip his back and press your forehead to his. You give a sheepish smile. "How do you say I love you again?"

"Te amo."

"Te amo, Santiago."

He grins and chuckles softly. "We'll work on the accent."

"Good thing I have the best teacher."

"Yes you do."

"Until then," You tuck your face into his neck and he threads a hand in your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too."

End

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Header by delicate-venus

Dedication: To delicate-venus, because you let me write your dream wedding for you with your dream man as inspiration for this fic.

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*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fic #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier santiago garcia #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #fransisco catfish morales #sanitago garcia x reader #fic #fanfic

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imagineabrighterworld · 4 years ago

Text

{Flowers} Midoriya x Reader

Summary// Soulmate!AU where everyone has different soulmate markers. Yours happens to be that flowers bloom where your soulmate gets injured. You just happen to be paired with the boy who breaks his bones daily.

Buds and small blossoms were the norm for you as a child. You would find yourself with little blooms on your palms or on your knees, your mother explaining that that meant your soulmate hurt themself. Maybe tripped or bumped into a table.

Your mom told you how the buds that bloomed on your cheeks meant someone was being mean.

As a teen you realize that the flowers on your body meant cruel things and cruel people.

"Hang on out there." You whisper to the flower on your shoulder, its soft petals tickling your skin. You wished you could talk to your soulmate through your skin like your mothers, how they could write on their skin and see the message on each other, or sing and hear the others voice like your uncle had with his wife. But you and your soulmate were connected by flowers.

What was going on in their life to have so many flowers? Sometimes you could feel phantom pains on your stomach as small bruise colored blossoms grew on your skin, or feel the sharp sting of a slap on your cheek the color of yellow daisies.

One day you're walking down the street when you bump into a green haired boy. You were in a good mood, lately there hadn't been new flowers on your body, which had to mean your soulmate was having a good week.

"Hi." You smile at the boy whose face immediately turns pink.

"H-Hi!" He stutters, his hand immediately going to the back of his neck. "Sorry for bumping into you, I should've been watching- not watching you! But watching out! You know- like how you walk and- and yeah.."

You chuckle. He was cute. Covered in freckles and with bright green eyes like the leaves of a tulip. "Don't worry about it." You hold out your hand and introduce yourself. "How about you?"

He shyly takes your hand. His grip is surprisingly stronger than you expected. "I'm Izuku Midoriya."

"Nice to meet you Midoriya." You smile and shake his hand firmly. "Guess I'll see you around."

"Y-Yeah." He smiles.

He smiles and for a moment the world slows to a stop.

You suck in a breath and hold onto your smile as you continue walking.

It's when you enter highschool that the flowers return.

You're in the middle of orientation when deep purple hellebores sprout from your finger. You flex your hand and feel the ghostly pains of a broken bone. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you listen to the droning of your homeroom teacher.

What happened to start the cycle again? Why was your soulmate hurting? Who was hurting them?

For the first weeks of school, you're stuck with that question as you do nightly checks. Your arms were constantly covered in flowers, and if you were capable of laughing at something so serious, you would debate selling bouquets with the flowers you were growing.

The day of the U.A. Sports Festival you sit between your moms and listen to the pro hero Present Mic as he introduces the classes.

Your mom cheers from your left. "We’ll get to see the first years that survived the villain attack!"

Your mother on your right chuckles. "You say it like it was planned darling, they're only kids. They're probably scarred."

Your moms debate the mental health of the 1-A first years as you watch the students from your spot in the stands. The blooms were getting better and had receded, showing your soulmate had healed which allowed you to focus on the games below.

But then a new set of questions popped up.

Would your soulmate be watching too? Were they interested in the sports festival? Were they quirkless? Did they have a quirk? Did they want to be a hero? You couldn't stop the questions that flowed freely in your mind.

You lean on your palm with your elbow resting on your knee. Your face lights up with surprise as you spot a familiar face in the crowd of students from Class A.

"Hey I know that boy!" You point to Midoriya and tug on your moms sleeves. A smile forms on your face. You didn't know he was going to U.A. but then again you never asked. You didn't think to ask.

"I never got his number though."

Your mother hums. "Too bad, he's cute."

Your mom pats your back. "You can try after the games are over."

During the first and second event, you keep your eyes glued to Midoriya. He was a good strategist. Even if he hadn't shown his quirk yet, you could see how skilled he was. It was a far cry from how you met him. Stuttering and shy. He was confident now, albeit a little emotional. He felt different to you.

"You can do it!" You whisper to yourself, your hands clenched as you see him step up to begin his match. You believed in him!

"Welcome to the first match of the finals tournament!"

From above you could see the student across from him begin to speak. Obviously you couldn't catch what was being said, but you had high hopes for Midoriya!

"Ready? Begin!"

Midoriya begins to run forward, but right as he nears the middle of the platform, he freezes in place and stays there. You feel a shiver run through your body as you watch him. Why was he staying still?

"The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is completely frozen!"

The other boy’s lips start to move. Midoriya turns around and begins to walk back to his side of the ring.

No. He starts walking to get off of the platform.

“What is he doing?” Your mom mutters, “Silly boy, he's supposed to be heading the other way!”

Your mother murmurs in agreement. “Could it be his opponent’s quirk?”

You didn't quite care as you stood up from your spot and began yelling. “Come on Midoriya! You can do it! Don't give up!”

He was just a step away from the border of the platform when a giant blast of wind came from his hand. At that moment you felt the ghostly pains of your index and middle finger snap. Baby’s-breath grew from your fingers.

You look down at your hand in horror as the announcer screams over the intercom.

"What's this! Midoriya stopped just in time!"

Midoriya was an inch away from the platform, but all your focus was on the flowers that bloomed on your skin. Flowers in the same place as his injuries.

You sit back down, ignoring your mothers as they continue cheering when Midoriya goes back into action. You don't see what happens next, all you hear is that Midoriya won.

On went the battles, but your focus was on your hand and the flowers that slowly fell off as the broken fingers were healed.

When his next match came, you looked up from your stupor. He was fighting a boy who had so far sweeped his way through to the finals. A part of you wanted to cheer Midoriya on, knowing that his match would be a tough one, but the other part was reeling in horror at what would become of his body. He broke his bones using his quirk.

Day in and day out, you had seen flowers grow on you, and you never had a face to link them to.

Cuts, bruises, burns, broken bones.

All from him.

You don't watch his match, all you hear and feel is the shattering ice of his opponent and the flowers that burst from your skin in waves of color. First his fingers, then his arms.

The match ends, and you are left sitting with hydrangeas and hibiscus, poppies and peonies all littering your arms as if you were a living garden.

“Sweetie what happened?” Your mother finally asks from beside you, or maybe you just weren't listening before. “Could your soulmate be that boy- hey!”

You stand up and push your way through the crowds, running down the line of stairs and around the stadium. The students were in seats across from you, which meant they had to have an entrance nearby.

A door lay in front of you, blocked by several Pro Heroes. You transform into a butterfly, not caring about the pain that rattled through your body at shifting into such a small creature as you fly past their watch and enter the stadium reserved for the students.

You fly past doors marked as waiting rooms until you reach the recovery center.

The door was cracked open, and inside you could see him. He was bandaged up, his body covered in scratches and bruises.

You shift back into a human and slam your flower coated fists on a nearby table.

His eyes open and he straightens up on the recovery bed, wincing in pain when he moves his arms. His eyes were dull with pain, but they had the same light in them as when you had met him for the first time.

Did that light drive him to hurt himself so much?

“You again- how did you get in here?” He sits up properly.

Your eyes are full of tears as you look at his casts.

“You.” You wipe at your eyes, spreading pollen across your face. “I've been a living garden for fifteen years and all you have to say is how did you get in here?”

You can hear the confusion in his voice as he mumbles a small “I’m sorry?”.

Summoning a claw, you pierce the side of your neck and make a thin line.

From his neck, carnations bloom from his skin at the same site of your wound.

His eyes widen in realization.

You both stay silent until you let out a breathy laugh. Now he knew. Now the cogs were turning. You were always so careful to not get hurt to keep from scaring your soulmate, but did he ever put in the same care?

“We’re soulmates..” He whispers.

“For fifteen years.” You repeat silently. “For fifteen years, I’ve had sleepless nights, knowing you were being hurt. For fifteen years you gave me flowers. Looking at flower shops were so painful because they reminded me of you. I couldn't even stand being at my uncle’s wedding because the arrangements reminded me of your pain.”

“I’m-”

You hold up your hand. “Why do you hurt yourself so much? Why go through so much pain? This quirk.. Is it so important for you to become a hero if all you get out of it is pain?”

With blurred vision and eyes stinging from tears, you look at Midoriya who had a quiet look of contemplation on his face. It takes a beat before he looks you in the eyes.

“I want to become a hero that brings a smile to people’s faces. A hero you can rely on.” His Adam's apple bobs as he gulps. “A hero you can rely on. I never meant to make you cry. I'm sorry.”

You slump down to the floor. You hear him squeak and jump down from the bed, letting out a string of “ow’s” before crouching in front of you.

“Really, I’m sorry-”

You place a hand over his mouth and give him a stern look. “Just shut up.”

“Yes ma'am.” He mumbles from behind your hand, his face obscured by the flowers on your hand.

“Ma’am?” A small laugh threatens to escape you.

“I say things when I get nervous..”

Despite the weight of the emotions you had been carrying, you finally laugh.

He leans away from your hand, a blush on his cheeks as you hold you cover your own mouth to try and tame your laughter.

“So um.. Im free Sunday. If you want to talk about how this'll work..?” He questions meekly.

You wipe your eyes and smile. “I’d like that.”

Extra//

You hang upside down from a tree as you watch Midoriya train. He had come over for dinner but as you waited for your moms to finish cooking, you both took to the outside. He had looked to your training grounds in awe and quickly pleaded with you to try out the course.

“It’s my mother’s, not mine, go ahead.” And how could you deny his bright eyes and smile? The damned thing could light an entire city.

He was nearly drenched in sweat by the time he stopped his run through of the course and his small session of shadow boxing. He wipes away his sweat with the back of his hand and sits down under the tree where you hung like a bat.

“Nice huh?”

“Yeah. What does your mother do to have a space like this?”

“She's a hero. But she patrols the west region. She comes back every few weeks to visit us.”

He bonks you on the head as he looks up in amazement. “She's the Transformation Hero Mystique?!”

You quirk a brow. “Bingo. How'd you get that?”

“Lucky guess.” He mumbles sheepishly.

“You saw her hero costume didn’t you.” You ask bluntly.

He fiddles with his scarred fingers. “I may have taken a detour when I went to the bathroom..”

You turn your head and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly boy.”

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #bnha izuku #bnha midoriya #bnha Izuku midoriya #bnha Midoriya x reader #boku no hero academia Midoriya x reader #mha #my hero academia #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha izuku #mha midoriya #mha Izuku midoriya #mha Midoriya x reader #my hero academia Midoriya x reader #- beta Zetzal

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shelbyshoe · 4 years ago

Text

Divine Touch

One-Shot

Lucy is a renowned artist for the nobility longing for a man, well a muse, that she can't stop painting. Natsu is a god of creativity who craves freedom from Lucy's studio. Their desire for each other mount, but they fear the one golden rule. With just one touch their contract is dissolved, destroying everything they've built and keeping them apart forever.

(A nalu fic with some gruvia.)

Rated: Explicit (Sexual Content and Harsh Language)

Words: 8413

FF.net

AO3

“You made my nose crooked.” Lucy’s hand jerked, and her heart jumped to her throat. Natsu stood behind her, leaning against her worktable that stretched out in the center of the room. His long pale sleeves rolled up on his forearms. The fabric fell loose enough to hang slightly open at his muscular chest. Her countless hours of mixed media stained the wooden table. Lucy had warned him about staining his clothes, but he never listened. To be fair, he materialized in her studio each time without a spot on him. She checked the room in case anyone entered and heard her speaking to no one. Long windows perched on the walls just below the high ceiling. Only the clouds viewable from where they stood as though she worked in the sky. “Well, now you’ve just ruined it.” Natsu pointed to the lump of clay she worked on. His interruption had startled her enough to make the nose sit at an awkward angle. The life-sized mess of clay mocked her efforts. The rest of the body molded into a crude shape to suggest she sculpted a person.

“If you came to critique my work so early, Natsu, you can leave.” Lucy splayed her hands over the face to conceal it. Embarrassment crushed her chest as it did when he caught her working in her messy appearance. She cut her fingernails short, tied her hair up in a lopsided bun, and wore a gray smock covered in clay. Lucy put her tool down on the table beside him. “Shouldn’t muses be helpful?” He was. “And inspire their creative?” Oh, he did. The little tilt of his lips told her he already knew her true feelings.

“You’re my favorite creative,” Natsu said. If Lucy had ever felt swayed by his blunt declarations, she hadn’t let it show. She hung her smock on a hook behind her. His soft masculine laughter ran up her spine like fingertips. Objectively, a muse was a conduit for inspiration that she used daily. Subjectively, if Lucy remained in his presence for much longer, she’d break the one golden rule. No creative could touch their muse. One soft brush between them, and it was bye-bye inspiration. At the height of her career, she couldn’t risk losing the one thing that got her there.

“I’m your only creative.” She moved to the stone sink at the back of her studio. The water was cool against her skin and ran murky with the clay that caked her fingers.

“You don’t know that.” His warm breath brushed across her ear, but when she glanced over her shoulder, he stood in the same position far from the sink. A trick of the gods and Natsu was nothing if not a trickster.

“I told you not to do that.”

“Do what?” He held his hands up and leaned away from the table. She turned back to her sink as to not give him anymore fuel to his fire. His footsteps fell light against the hard floor. “The eyes are right.”

“What?” Lucy took the small towel on the serving tray and wiped her hands dry. Natsu stood in front of the unfinished clay version of himself. He leaned forward with a hand resting at his chin to stare his imitation in the eyes. At least she’d gotten the height correct.

“The eyes.” He pointed to the sculpture’s face. The crooked nose distracted her from the observation he made. “They’re perfect. Don’t change them.” Lucy stood beside him to see what he saw. When she made a sculpture, she worked on the face first. This was the first piece she’d ever done that clearly resembled Natsu. All the male figures she painted resembled him in one way or another, but she had concealed that fact well enough. When during the process of this project had she decided to sculpt Natsu completely? “Why did you stop?” He gestured to her freshly washed hands. They stood close enough that if she leaned, she could press her arm against his. The warmth of his skin sliding against her palms. Her fingertips tiptoeing across the valleys of his tanned muscles. His hands lazily navigating her body. Only a daydream.

“I don’t feel like having an audience.” She twisted away from him, keeping her focus on the material she used to wrap the sculpture, to prevent the clay from drying in her absence.

“That’s a shame.” His head tilted to the side and unabashedly examined her. Like a child observing an ant under glass. The casual way his long rosy hair fell to the side of his head made the youthful flush of his skin stand out. “I wanted to stick around longer.” He shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tan pants. “Guess I’ll see you around.” If those around them could see Natsu, they would surely know he wasn’t mortal. Power clung to his unblemished skin like embers on coal. The unfinished sculpture loomed over her. What a fool she was to believe that she made anything near the real thing. She threw the drape over the clay and tied it securely. The room still enough for her to know he’d disappeared. In Natsu’s absence, the room no longer felt vast like the sky— just another room in the long rows of studios. Her bag lay by the door where someone lightly knocked and peeked into the room.

“Oh, you’re already done?” Gray ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. An awkward habit, though not as awkward as his sporadic nudity.

“I feel uninspired.”

“The muse didn’t show up?” Gray chuckled and stepped into the hall. She closed the door behind her as if by seeing inside, he’d know Natsu had stood within. To everyone else, a muse was a mythical being. Speaking of divine assistance would put her job in danger.

“I wish,” Lucy said.

“I figured we could eat something.”

“I thought you had a class?”

“They canceled, so I picked up a job. I’ll have enough time to eat beforehand.” They fell into step together through the pristine hall. Each intricately carved door was a studio with an artist within. The royals collected them the way one would collect art itself. Lucy never complained—thankful she had a job and a place to stay, a small boarding room with all the other students at the adjacent university. Gray was in a similar boat, and while he didn’t like to talk about his past, she knew he’d come out of tough times. He pushed open the tall heavy doors to the gallery. The nobles displayed the artists’ works inside.

“Sometimes I wish your medium weren’t ice. Your work deserves to be here just as much as the rest of us,” she said. All her sculptures and paintings remained here, one-of-a-kind pieces. She eyed a painting she’d completed a month ago. A male back spread bare across the canvas. His tan muscles contorted while swathed in pink silk fabric. No one would know the subject was Natsu. Not even the muse himself knew. Lucy painted the torso alone in fear that his blossom hair would give her away.

“Why? So, the nobility can display my work and keep it from the rest of the world like pack rats?” His face scrunched in a scowl.

“I honestly don’t care what happens to my pieces.”

“I never understood that about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve always felt attached to my pieces.” He squinted at another one of her paintings. The portrait was tall and shrouded in dark colors. The man in the piece wrapped his arms around himself, gardenias peeked out between his clenched fingers, and red carnations bloomed in place of his face. The darkness wrapped around his bare body like an intruding force. She named it Vulnerability. When she painted this one, she had suspected the nobility would hate it, and Natsu would know it was of him. Thankfully, neither of those things happened. In fact, this was Natsu’s favorite painting. She often caught him gravitating toward it when she left the studio late at night. Lucy only ever met him in the art building. When the crickets sang their lament and the world lay still, she’d lie in her cupboard-sized boarding room and question whether she had imagined the muse. Then, she’d find him there gazing at a portrait that she chose not to say was him.

“That’s the thing.” Lucy paused in front of the painting. As much as she wanted to have a strong connection to it, she didn’t. The work merely paints on fabric compared to the real thing. “I’m attached to the act of creating, not the creation.” He shook his head, and they moved to the door that led to the outside world.

“What kind of job did you take?” she asked. The summer heat whipped her in the face as soon as they left the building. The daylight kissed her skin like a familiar whisper at her ear.

“I’m posing for some art students at the university.”

“Nudes again?” She worked to keep the smile from showing on her face while Gray scoffed at her.

“I do more than nudes, Lucy.” His brows came together in a look of indignation.

“But they are nude poses, right?” She jabbed him playfully with her finger.

“Well, yes, but that’s beside the point.” The farther away they were from the palace, the more her mind cleared of her work, and of Natsu. She’d return as she always did.

________________________________________

If the daylight whispered to her, then the moonlight howled. Lucy’s feet brought her to the studio like an obsession that evening. The studio remained the way she had left it trapped in time, waiting for her return. She lit the room and pulled the cover off her work. While Natsu’s impromptu visit flustered her into destroying a part of the sculpture, she had a chance to see the real thing as a reference.

With a carving tool, she scraped the abomination from the sculpture, sat at the table to remake the nose, and attached the clay to the face. Of course, Natsu was right. The nose rested perfectly with the rest of his face now that she had redone it. Lucy stepped back from the clay figure and eyed her work. He’d told her not to touch the eyes as though he knew she’d thought of changing them. Why? This version of Natsu loomed dark and pensive. The real one radiated mischief and stood bright in her room, in the sky. Yet, he’d told her they were perfect. She would keep them, if only for his confirmation of his likeness. Lucy dipped a brush in water and smoothed the surface of his clay face, an intimate gesture as if to caress his skin. She had a tune stuck in her head and hummed it as she worked. Her body relaxed into the familiar rhythm of creation, and her fingers made light guiding markings for a mouth. Natsu wore a smile the way others wore clothes. His upturned lips in a guise of charm. Her sculpture told another story. The story of a man who peeled off his smile at the end of the day and gazed at a world in which he wished he belonged. With another wet brush, she worked to mold the lips in a way that she imagined. They came easiest to her. Once the eyes told the story, the rest of the face followed. She mixed more clay, sat at her workbench, and went about shaping the ears. Her body hunched forward in full concentration, so she hadn’t noticed another presence until she heard the tune she’d hummed earlier. Natsu sat across from her at the table. His forearms rested on the wooden surface, he hummed soft enough that she had barely heard it before, and his eyes fixed to her work. He didn’t appear playful like the afternoon, but his face lacked the pensive look her sculpture wore.

“When did you get here?” Lucy’s hand hovered over the clay ear with her detail brush. She sat up straighter and prayed she didn’t look a complete mess.

“The better question is, have I ever left?” The grin returned in full force, and he slouched into his arms to lay against the table. His eyes flicked up to the figure behind her. “Looks good so far.” A surprising sense of relief washed over her. He liked it. She took great interest in the half-formed ear in her palm as to avoid his gaze.

“I left the eyes.”

“I see that. I like the mouth.” She glanced behind her at the pensive mouth she’d made.

“Do you have to be present to give me inspiration?” she asked. He tilted his head and raised a brow.

“Yeah.” No explanation, no flowery language, and a look that told her she was ridiculous for asking.

“Then you really are always here?” Somehow, Natsu trailing behind her without her knowledge didn’t disturb her the way she knew it should.

“Yes and no.” His eyes flicked to the night sky out the high windows. “You know, this building doesn’t have a lot of windows.”

“Well, there’s one there.”

“The only skylight in the entire building is in this room.” A fleeting frown dashed across his face until a fixed grin took its place. “Sometimes I want to burst out that window and set the world on fire.” While an alarming confession from anyone else, from Natsu it felt free and harmless.

“You can’t leave?”

“None of us can.” Her hand froze amid a brushstroke down his clay ear.

“There are more muses here?”

“Yeah, you’d like them, Lucy.” He said her name with a cheerfulness that gave her a false sense of endearment as if she could believe he truly felt fond of her. She held the clay ear at arm’s length to see it next to the real thing. Just focus on work, Lucy. Other muses are none of your business.

“Move your hair back.” Lucy focused on the ear in scale and overall shape. Natsu propped himself on the table so that his face hovered next to the back of her hand. If he wanted to, he could lean in and press his cheek against her. Her heart perched at the base of her throat humming at the beat stuck in her head. He slid his fingers through his hair to expose the naked curve of his ear.

“This better?” he asked. The soft warm breeze of summer breathed through the room and brushed against the back of her neck. A shiver ran through her like static.

“I told you not to do that.” Her voice dropped lower than she expected it to. How bothered was she by this little game he played? His eyes traveled over her face and down her neck. He allowed his hair to fall forward and sat back in the chair. She expected the seat to creak under the adjusted weight, but the only sound in the room was her own breath. The absence of noise the reminder of what he was, what they were. When he stood from the table, the room chilled.

“I hope I helped you.” Natsu shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants and left through the door. Had she done something? The weight of his absence pressed against her chest. Her brush hovered over the clay cradled in her hand. Her inspiration had evaporated along with him, like a slap in the face that said they were different. A creative and their muse. Without Natsu, her progress slowed to a crawl. She agonized over her work, and her brain screamed for her to start a different task. She couldn’t work without him.

“This is ridiculous. One ear. I just need this one ear.” Her brush made all the wrong moves, all the most undesirable shapes, but she made progress. That was enough. “I’ve made art without him before. I can do it again.” How long had she relied on his inspiration for her own motivation? And like a muscle unused for years, she stretched.

________________________________________

“Lucy, wake up.” A warm hand shook her shoulder. Lucy pealed her cheek from the table. When had she fallen asleep? Her hands clutched the clay ear. She’d redone it a million times. The rim of the clay had lightened overnight from drying. Her stomach dropped sharply, and her body burst with adrenaline. Dry clay meant the end of her project, yet she found her work covered and tied. The spray bottle of water sat beside it. Relief washed over her body, her legs turned to mud, and she slouched back in her seat. “Whoa, are you okay? You weren’t here all night, were you?” Gray asked. He sat across from her and leaned against the table. The position reminded her of Natsu that evening. Everything reminded her of Natsu.

“If it makes you happy.” She set the clay aside and stood to retrieve more.

“You should take a break. What’s got you working all day and night?” His attention snapped to the draped figure, and he pointed to it. “This?” She brought the clay to the table and nodded.

“What do you think so far?” she asked. Gray’s brows shot up and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t see it. You really should get some sleep, Lucy.”

“You covered it for me. You must have seen.” Movement caught her attention. Natsu leaned against one of her shelves covered in art supplies. His interest remained on a tube of paint she’d left uncapped and planned to dispose of. Gray followed her gaze.

“I didn’t, I promise. You sure you don’t want to go home?” he asked. She shook her head. “You do look tired.” Of course, he didn’t see Natsu.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m okay, really.” She kneaded the clay between her fingers.

“Do you need help with anything? I can at least come to check on you from time to time.” Gray leaned over the table to brush some hair behind her ear. How long had it been since she’d felt the warmth of someone’s skin? If he hadn’t pulled his hand away, she feared she’d lean into it. He apologized softly, lifting one of his dark brows. Natsu’s attention pulled from the paint and he moved to stand beside Gray. He leaned toward Gray’s head.

“That won’t be necessary,” Lucy said. These were the moments where the lunacy of having a muse sank in. If no one else could see Natsu, was he real?

“At least come to my studio for a bit.” He eyed her kneading fingers with a grimace. “A break or something.” He placed his hands over hers and the clay. Her fingers relaxed from their task. She grappled with his offer, as the sculpture loomed behind her and called like a siren. With Natsu in the room, it felt like a dam had broken. The object of her strange obsession stood beside Gray with a mirrored frown. Natsu tilted his head to Lucy and grinned. Oh no. If she acted out now, Gray would think her crazy. Natsu pursed his lips and blew a silent stream of air at the side of Gray’s face. Gods made no small gestures, so the gust of wind from his lips blew strong enough that Gray toppled from the table and lay on the floor. The artist sat up and held his cheek. While Natsu filled the room with laughter, Gray’s eyes widened as he scanned the room. Lucy dropped the clay and ran around the table to help Gray up. “What was that? Lucy, did you feel that?”

“Look, I’ll come by your studio this afternoon. I appreciate the concern.” She held out her hand to help him to his feet. His hand remained on his cheek as he spoke.

“Did you not feel that just now?”

“Feel what?” Play dumb, kill Natsu later. His hand dropped and he squinted at her. Natsu sat in the seat Gray ejected from and leaned his chin against his palm, watching the show.

“I’ll see you then; I guess.” Gray gave her a polite nod and scanned the room before he left. Lucy turned on Natsu as soon as Gray’s footsteps disappeared.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What? You didn’t want him here either.” He stretched as though he also took a nap at her art table. She went back to her spot across from him. “You have to admit his reaction was hilarious.”

“He was terrified.” Lucy worked the clay with aggression.

“He’ll be fine.” He waved a dismissive hand at the door and nodded toward her hands. “Lucy, you’re going to destroy that clay.” She slapped the clay against her work surface with a loud smack.

“I don’t need you interfering with my life.”

“Okay, then next time, I’ll leave your sculpture out to dry.”

“Gray covered it.”

“He told you he didn’t,” Natsu said. Lucy shook her head, picked up her clay, and carefully molded it into a new ear. When she completed them, she removed the cover from the sculpture and fixed the ears to Natsu’s clay head. She smoothed the clay with water and added clean details of the first strands of his hair that snuggly fit next to his ear. The flow of work kept her mind busy enough to ignore Natsu’s presence.

________________________________________

The bright afternoon sun soon flooded into the room and bathed the studio in warm light. Natsu had moved below the window and gazed up at the cloudless sky. His stance tense with hands wrapped in fists. His mouth tightened to a line and his jaw visibly clenched.

“I’m going to take Gray’s advice and take a break.” Her voice cut through his thoughts enough for her to witness him visibly relax. His scowl replaced with a sharp smile.

“Taking that ice queen’s advice?” He gave a clipped laugh. “I can’t believe he fell over like that.”

“What do you have against him anyway?”

“Nothing.” Natsu tilted his head away from the window. “He’s fun is all.” While his face appeared genuine, Lucy hardly believed his words.

“Muses are strange.” She washed up and covered her work to keep it from drying out. Her fingers slid her apron over the hook by the door. Natsu moved back to his seat, his leg bounced below the table, and his head turned back to the window. “Thank you.” His leg stilled.

“For what?”

“For keeping my work safe,” she said. He turned around in the chair, so that he straddled it, and studied her.

“Where are you going?”

“I said I’d go visit Gray.” Lucy held up a finger to stop him as he stood. “You are not coming.” His eyes glinted the way they did when she challenged him. “Natsu, I mean it, you’re just going to upset him.”

“It’s not like he can see me, Lucy.”

“I won’t be long. I’m coming right back here anyway.”

“Why do I feel like a dog that you’re leaving home for the afternoon?”

“Maybe, that is what I’m doing.” She closed the door as his laughter filled her ears. The sound made her stomach flip, and the feeling lingered all the way to Gray’s studio.

In the hall’s silence, she wished she’d allowed Natsu to go with her. Anything to liven up the cold dead air as she descended toward Gray’s place of work. She stood before his tall studio door and rapped at the metal entrance with the heavy knocker. When no one answered, she allowed herself in. The room dim except for a set of professional lights in the back. The room filled with the sound of tools on ice. His studio, half the size of her own, remained at a low temperature with dim lighting and no windows to preserve the piece.

“Gray?” The sounds stopped, and a chair moved behind a partition.

“Lucy, you made it.” Gray came to greet her, glancing behind her toward the door.

“It’s just me,” She said. He held his hand out for her to sit on a stool beside him. “How are you always shirtless in here? It’s freezing.” Gray laughed as he pulled away the partition to reveal the massive slab of ice behind it.

“Well, what do you think so far?” Gray stood next to her, eyeing the sculpture from her point of view. His fingers cradled his chin as he glanced between Lucy and the ice woman before them. Lucy had never seen this woman before. She lay on the ice like a mermaid basking on a rock. Her legs curled beneath her, one arm lay on the ice beside her, while the other hand slid through her hair. The dress she wore flowed beneath her. A slit on the side revealed ample hip and slender legs.

“Gray, this is amazing.” Lucy stood from the stool and walked around the sculpture. Sure, the fabric was still rough, and the ice beneath her needed work, but the person atop was beautiful. “Who is she?”

“Don’t smirk at me like that.” Gray reverted his gaze to the tools across the table beside the sculpture, but not fast enough for Lucy to miss the flush of his cheeks. Did he know this woman outside of work?

“Well? How long have you been dating?”

“It’s complicated.” Even without explanation, Lucy understood the feeling. Gray’s smile fell into a scowl at something behind her.

“What?” The room remained empty except for his equipment and other sculptures he’d worked on, all abandoned for this piece. From the moment she entered the room, until now, she felt another’s unfamiliar presence. Could it be?

“Nothing. I’m glad you like it.” He picked up a detail pick and went to work on the fabric of her dress.

“Hey, Gray?” Lucy’s mind swam with questions, but only one rang out for an answer. He acknowledged her without looking up. “Do you believe in muses?” His hand lingered over the ice.

“Muses are myths.” Even as the words left his lips, his hand remained still.

“I believe in them.” She crossed her arms over her body and shook in the icy room.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Gray, is this your muse?” She pointed to the sculpture in front of him.

“What if I said yes?” Gray twisted the pick between his hands and pursed his lips in the way he did when he bit at the inside of his mouth. Lucy placed a hand on his shoulder and felt him relax beneath her palm.

“Then I’d say—”

“Calm down, Lucy is just visiting.” Natsu leaned against the door with arms crossed over his chest.

“She’s all over him!” The woman stood behind Gray and shouted to Natsu. Her long, wavy blue hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward to point in the direction of Lucy’s hand. Natsu rolled his eyes. The woman huffed with hands on her hips, glaring at her.

“You’re his muse,” Lucy said. Juvia’s eyes widened, and her arms fell.

“Now you’ve done it,” Natsu said.

“Who are you?” Gray asked, noticing Natsu for the first time. He pulled Lucy closer to him and ignored the protest from the woman behind him. Natsu’s eyes narrowed on Gray’s hand on her waist. “What are you doing in my studio?”

“Well, now that she’s seen Juvia, I better introduce myself.” Natsu bowed low and gave Gray a shark’s smile. “I’m Natsu, Lucy’s muse.”

“Why can I see her?” Lucy asked.

“Probably because you guys were discussing us.” Natsu shrugged casually but tightened his grip on his upper arm.

“What do you want with Gray?” Juvia asked. She stood tall in the same dress as the sculpture.

“Juvia.” Gray’s voice warned, but he let go of Lucy.

“Want? He’s my friend.” Was his muse jealous? “Are you guys together?” Gray sighed.

“No, we work together,” he said.

“Juvia will change your mind!” the muse cried and blinked out of the room.

“Sorry about that, she’s—”

“Passionate?” Lucy said.

“Clingy,” Natsu added. Gray glared at him from his seat.

“What about you?” he asked. Natsu raised a brow, his smile remained planted firmly on his face.

“What about me?”

“Are you together?” Gray said.

“Gray, don’t do this.”

“No, I want his answer, Lucy.” Gray placed his pick on the tray and stood. “What is she to you? Just an artist to play with?”

“Are you not doing that with Juvia? Playing?” Natsu’s feet firmly planted to the ground as Gray took a step forward.

“Whoa there.” Lucy held an arm out in front of his chest. “I’m going to leave now.” She didn’t want to have them fight with each other. She also didn’t want to hear the answer to the question that Natsu avoided. She and Natsu weren’t together, she knew that, yet she feared hearing this from him.

“See you in the studio.” With that, Natsu disappeared.

“How have you not told me about him?”

“What is with that tone? I could say the same about Juvia, but you already know the answer to that.” Her frustration simmered, and Gray eased off.

“You’re right. It just all came out at once.”

“I know.” Lucy gave his hand a squeeze and pulled away. “I’m going back to work.” She hesitated in the doorway and gazed inside. Now that her friend stood alone in the room, he appeared so small. “Hey, Gray?” He glanced back at her. “I love the piece. Please, finish it.” He smiled as she closed the door and paced back to her own studio.

Her door slammed behind her as she entered. As she thought, Natsu stood under the high windows, gazing up at the vast sky.

“I told you not to follow me.” The frustration she thought she’d extinguished lit up.

“You know me better than that.”

“Yes, always meddling in my life.” Lucy pulled the smock over her and secured her hair on her head with a tie.

“How was that meddling in your life? You were talking about art and us.”

“What do you mean us? You and Juvia?” she asked, convinced he didn’t mean him and her. She pulled the cover away from her sculpture. How could she work on this while she fought with the very person she sculpted? I don’t need a muse to make art. Could she believe that now? All her success was due to the man standing in her studio. Somehow, the thought only infuriated her more. “Did you pick me?”

“What?” Natsu leaned against her art table, as she worked on the clay hair that fell around the sculpture’s face.

“Did you pick me to be your creative?”

“No.” Blunt as always. No hesitation. A part of her always imagined that he had chosen her specifically, that she was special to him. “Lucy, look at me, please.” Had she ever heard his voice this soft before? She turned to find him leaned off the table and in front of her. Lucy stood sandwiched between the art and the imitation in clay behind her.

“What? Have something else to add?” Her lip quivered. He no longer hid behind the veil of a smile.

“You’re crying.” He reached out, as if to brush away a tear, paused just before her skin, and pulled away. His brows came together, and his mouth set in a frown. “I can’t help you the way he can.”

“Gray? How?”

“I can’t touch you.”

“How would that help me?” she asked, wiping away at her cheeks. She took a breath to calm herself. Don’t fall apart, or he’ll leave. “Why are you bringing him up?”

“He can comfort you, can leave this building with you.” Natsu rubbed at the back of his neck and stared back up at the afternoon sun. “Can kiss you if he wanted to.” A warm breeze brushed against her skin, across her cheek, and down her neck. Her heart raced, and she worried he’d hear.

“Do you want to?” she asked. Natsu leaned forward so their lips hovered next to each other. Lucy closed her eyes and relaxed her mouth. The warmth evaporated, and when she opened her eyes, Natsu was gone.

Lucy sat at her studio table and stared at the sculpture swathed in fabric. Her finger slid over her lips as she pictured Natsu kissing her. She slumped against her worktable and shifted to see out her window. The afternoon sun had dropped away, and the studio tinted in purple and pink. Lucy stood and stretched. I can’t sit around forever. She stood before the piece that had taken so much from her already, uncovered it, and began to work.

________________________________________

“No peeking!” Lucy guided Gray into her studio with his hand firmly over his eyes.

“Can I look now?”

“Just stand here.” She positioned him far enough away that he’d be able to see the sculpture fully. “Okay, open your eyes.” Gray dropped his arms, his brows rose, and he gave a low whistle. “Well?”

“Lucy, this is incredible.” He stepped closer to the finished work. The clay stood dry and varnished. “The level of detail is amazing. Lucy, the clothes alone are immaculate.”

“So, you like it?”

“Of course! I mean, I wish it weren’t of that asshat, but I like it.” Gray’s smile allowed her shoulders to relax.

“I’m glad. And he’s not an asshat.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Since our fight,” she said. He shook his head and let out a long breath.

“I mean, I’m one to talk. I haven’t seen Juvia.”

“Really? I thought she’d be all over you when I left.” Finding out about each other’s muses felt like so long ago.

“Not like we can really be all over each other,” Gray said.

“So, if you could, you would?” She nudged him with her elbow. His cheeks warmed and he nudged her back.

“I want her to see my piece once it’s finished, but I don’t know where she is.”

“Natsu told me once that he never really left. When I’m inspired, whether I see him or not, it is because he’s there.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I do. I never lost inspiration while I finished this piece. Something drove me that could only be described as supernatural.” Lucy had stared at the sculpture far longer than she’d like to admit, yet she still found her eyes gravitating toward Natsu’s face, his lips. “Did you ever resent her? Did it feel like you weren’t good enough without her?”

“Did I resent her for inspiring me? No.” Gray slumped into the seat beside them. “I have always been grateful to Juvia. I think of a muse as someone who boosts the talent we already have.” He shrugged and pointed to her piece. “Hard to resent them when they have us make things like this.” She couldn’t blame him for feeling that way.

“I miss him,” she admitted.

“I know.” Gray stood from the chair and made his way toward the door. “Let me know if you see them. If you need me, I’ll be finishing up downstairs.” Lucy nodded and sat down in her usual seat.

She stared at the door, out of focus, long after he’d closed it. Her thoughts swirl back to her own question. So, if you could, would you? She’d asked him that question without asking herself.

“They chose you for me.” Lucy nearly jumped out of her skin from Natsu’s voice. He leaned against the statue of his likeness and inspected his own face. Her heart twisted in his presence and her stomach lighter than air. When had she begun to feel this way for him?

“Who?”

“The fates. They told me you were important to me. I hadn’t even met you yet. Weird, huh?” He grinned and ran a hand through his rosy hair. “But I get it now.” Lucy still had to process the fates when he stepped forward and pressed his palms to the stained worktable. “Sorry that I haven’t been around to talk to.” His laughter bounced off her studio walls. Was he joking with her?

“What are you talking about, Natsu?” Lucy moved around the table and stood in front of him.

“I needed time to think about what I really wanted.” He eyed the statue of himself. “I realized that I need something from you first.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“It’s perfect, Lucy.” Her name on his tongue sounded sweet, and his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Looks just like me.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Are you? You’ve done it before.”

“I haven’t sculpted you before,” she said. Natsu felt different as he stepped closer. Desperate, maybe? She wasn’t going anywhere, so what was he doing? She shook her head. “Are you okay?”

“You’ve painted me perfectly. Every single time. Like you looked inside and pulled me out.” His eyes softened and his hand reached out to her. She sucked in a breath as his hand hovered over her cheek, her neck, and down her arm. While he never made contact, somehow, she still felt him against her skin.

“How did you know those paintings were of you?”

“I always knew. I assumed it was because I’m a muse, not because you cared. I still gave into that. I shouldn’t have.” He stared down at his open palm. “I keep thinking how selfish I am. A god with nothing to lose, and a woman who could have everything taken away.” This time, Lucy held out her palm. Her hand lingered just above his face, fingers traveled over his lips and hovered splayed over his chest. She could see his jaw work and his muscles tense, allowing her a moment to pretend. To have this power over a god. Intoxicating.

“Natsu, do you love me?” she asked. A warm feeling brushed over her hair and traveled along her jaw. His eyes softened, focused on her lips.

“Every day.” His eyes widened as he searched her face. “I made you cry again?” She shook her head.

“Damn the gods and the games they play.” She inhaled and willed herself not to break. “I want to be with you, to touch you.” She gladly took a gift from the divine, and this was the price she paid.

“Let me.” Natsu hadn’t wavered, as stone still as the statue that stood beside them. “Tell me and I will.” What was more important to Lucy? Could she live without the career she had worked tirelessly for? If she told him no, what would they be? Like a ghost, he’d linger. No amount of paint could give her what she really wanted. She’d forever wonder if she didn’t take the plunge.

“Please,” Lucy begged. Natsu pulled her to him like she was sand through his fingers. Quick enough and they’d never part. His lips pressed firmly to hers, softer and warmer than she ever expected. Her hands splayed against his chest. Then the world turned cold. Her hands grasped to nothing in the chilled air. Her eyes opened and she was alone. “Natsu?” Her blood turned icy in her veins, and her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. Just as he said, one touch and he disappeared. I can fix this. Her palm pressed against the worktable for balance. But how?

Lean tan arms wrapped around Lucy’s shoulders, a warm chest pressed to her back, and lips dusted a light kiss against her neck. She whirled around to face Natsu and the empty platform where her work once stood. “How?”

“I don’t know. I opened my eyes and stood in your art’s place.” Natsu’s gaze darkened and roamed across her body as if seeing her for the first time. She’d created a form for him, for a god. The relief welled up inside her chest. Lucy gripped the front of his loose shirt and pulled him to her. This time, she smashed her lips to his, hot and wanting. He wrapped his arms around her as she threaded her fingers through his silken hair. Natsu explored her mouth and pressed her back against the worktable. She nearly lost her breath when he pulled away, gazing down at her against the familiar wooden surface. The sun created a halo of light around his hair, and his lips flushed from their kiss. She reached up and finally pulled down his shirt. His tan skin chiseled like the god he was.

“Wanted a peak?” He grinned and pulled her hair down from her tie. Her blond hair fell around her head. He hovered over her and gave a long exhale.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Trying to calm down.”

“Why?” Lucy tugged at the loose fabric at his waist, tossed the shirt to the side, and worked on his pants. Her sex clenched at the look he gave her.

“I want to savor this.” He trailed his fingertips against her cheek, a whisper of contact against her skin, and her body arched up into his divine touch. So starved for him, her body responded. Natsu took his time to lazily trace her curves with his fingertips. When he moved around her most sensitive places, she groaned. Her skin going up in flames from the lack of what she really wanted. Lucy slid her fingers against his growing erection. Natsu sucked in air sharply through his teeth and grabbed her hand. He pulled her arm over her head and pinned her there. He feathered kisses down the base of her throat to her awaiting chest. Her nipples hardened to sensitive peaks through the fabric of her top, and his eyes flicked up as his lips surrounded them in heat. She wiggled her hips beneath him and pushed her breast against his mouth. The corner of his lips raised, as he pulled her button top open with a pop. Instead of pulling off her bra, he slipped the fabric around her breasts, pushing them up toward his mouth. He groaned as he suckled her nipple, running a thumb against the other in a languid tease.

“God.” She groaned and clung to him as he feasted.

“You called?” he said with a mouth full of her and skimmed his teeth against the flushed bud.

“Fuck.” She groaned when he slipped his hand to the juncture between her legs.

“I will in a minute.” Natsu flicked his tongue against the other nipple. The one he left cold without the warmth of his mouth.

“Will you quit joking.” The whimper left Lucy without her consent, dragged out by the long stroke of his tongue and his fingers that worked her folds over her pants. Natsu leaned back and pulled her body further on the table so her legs straddled him. He worked her pants and underwear from her hips, dropping them to the ground. With one swipe, her bra pulled from her body and into the heap of her clothes on the floor. “Natsu, please.” She reached out for him, her voice husky and lost. He worked his own clothes from his body. Heat pooled to her core with the full view of him, hard shaft freed and eager, and the tip glistened with precum. Instead of plunging forward, the way she thought he would, he kneeled before her and spread her bare to him. She raised herself up on her elbows unaffected by the slight embarrassment in the position. When he pulled her legs over his shoulders, her heart raced. Natsu’s deep green eyes met hers as he spread her folds with his thumbs and lowered his tongue to her damp arousal. Lucy’s head lulled to the side, her eyes half closed, as the pleasure rippled through her body. His name left her lips in a rush, and his tongue plunged deep into her heat. One of his thumbs swirled around her clit, and her body ached for more. She felt herself building up as he pushed further, stroked her faster, and made her legs shake at the sides of his head. She shoved her fingers into his hair. His eyes still locked on her face like a jungle cat. The look alone sent her into a frenzy of lust. The euphoria of her climax made her cry out. As soon as she thought he’d stop, he dragged another from her. Her body dropped against the table when he slowed. He moved her legs from his shoulders and rose with his mouth glistening from where he devoured her. Natsu buried his fingers inside her and pulled them out to slide them over his cock. His hand making an erotic squelch sound as he lubed himself with her. The anticipation built with each jerk of his hand, and she wiggled beneath him. Natsu grinned at her movement and clutched her thigh to still her.

“You’re not going to let me last, are you?” Natsu asked. She shook her head and opened her legs wider for him. He placed the head of his cock against her drenched vulva, and slowly sheathed himself into her, filling her with the length of him. Her moan resonated inside the studio, and his eyes rolled back with delight as he fully sank into her. He sat there for a moment inside her, breathing long and steady before he pulled out to the tip. Lucy almost protested until he surged deep into her with a hot smack of their skin. This time, it was his moan that filled the room. “Fuck.”

“I thought that’s what you’re doing,” she said. His hips moved, keeping any other joke from leaving her lips. He positioned his hands on either side of her head and moved his hips in a delicious rhythm inside her. Her hands clutched him for dear life, and she lifted her hips to meet his thrusts in exquisite pleasure. He slid a hand beneath her and pulled her hips up higher in just the right position. Her cries louder, faster than before as he rocked against her sweetest places.

“Coming for me, Lucy?” The teasing tone replaced with the husky sound of his voice, and the absolute ecstasy that she saw in his face. He slammed into her, as she rode her climax, and leaned back with her thighs in each hand. His lip caught between his teeth as he positioned himself. His cock visibly impaled her tight core. The sensual sight of him forever engrained into her mind.

“Come for me, Natsu.” Her voice, husky and raw in her own ears, spurred him on.

“Lucy.” Her name rolled off his tongue as he came deep inside her. His thrusts slowed and his chest worked to catch his breath. Natsu dragged out one of the chairs, sat, and pulled her to his lap. She straddled him and wrapped around him with her lips pressed into the crook of his neck. Warmth surrounded her in his embrace. Lucy slid her fingers through his tousled hair as they breathed. Natsu’s hands caressed her back in an intimate gesture that reminded her this was real.

“Don’t leave me again,” she said. His warm breath at her shoulder as he spoke.

“Never.” He enfolded her in his arms. She glanced at the pedestal that once held her work.

“You stole my sculpture.” Lucy felt his laugh against her.

“Would you like it back?” Natsu asked.

“No, you can keep it.” She sat back and cupped his face in her hands. Her thumb skimmed his skin. “I want to thank the fates.” Natsu placed his broad hand against the back of her head and pulled her into a deep kiss.

“Holy shit.” A voice came from the door followed by a click as it shut. Natsu’s boisterous laugh shook her. Lucy felt the heat spread instantly to her cheeks and playfully smacked him.

“Stop laughing. Someone saw us.”

“It was Gray.” Natsu barely got the words out. Lucy stood up quickly and moved around the table toward the door. “Hey, don’t go out like that.” He tossed her his long button up shirt. She wrapped the fabric around her and allowed it to hang to her knees. She peaked out of her studio and found Gray with his back against the wall beside the door. His hands clasped over his eyes.

“Stupid, stupid,” he said. She moved into the hallway and hugged herself tighter.

“Gray?” The man jumped from the wall and took in her appearance. His blushing cheeks darkened with the sight of her.

“I’m sorry. I should have knocked. I only came to tell you that I found Juvia.”

“Oh, well, I, uh.” What could she say to make this any better?

“Damn, I’m sorry,” Gray said again.

“This is a weird question, especially now, but did Juvia become your ice sculpture?” she asked.

“I freaked out, couldn’t say anything. I told her to wait, so I could tell you.” He wiped a hand across his face. “But, apparently, you didn’t need me to tell you.” The guilt of not having thought of Gray sank like a stone, and the embarrassment rose again.

“Shouldn’t you be going back to your girl?” Natsu opened the door wider. He’d pulled on his pants and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. Gray glared at him.

“I thought I’d tell my friend the good news, asshole.”

“Well, congrats. You better get to her. Hope everything works out for ya.” Natsu wrapped an arm around Lucy and pulled her into the studio. “Bye, ice boy.” He closed the door and pressed her back against it. “Thought he’d never leave.”

“Natsu! I was talking to him.”

“He’ll thank me later. I’m sure Juvia is losing her mind with jealousy since he came all the way over here for you.”

“You were helping him?” she asked. He shrugged and pulled her into another kiss. His hands snaked into his shirt, cupped the weight of her breasts, and slid his thumbs against her sensitive skin.

“I think we have a problem,” he said.

“What?”

“Now that I can touch you, I don’t want to stop.” Natsu pressed his forehead against hers and grinned.

“Then don’t,” Lucy said. He picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and hoisted her to the worktable. She had to agree with him. She’d never get enough of this.

#nalu #fairy tail #nalu fan fiction #ft fan fiction #natsu x lucy #divine touch #my writing #muse au

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5-seconds-of-bucky · 4 years ago

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Victory

A/N: A short blub off this idea I had the other day. Not gonna lie, I made myself pretty soft with this one. Let’s just ignore the fact that I’m not writing that other WIP I need to be working on...

Summery: Shawn gets his wife some flowers

Word count: 796

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and one swear word

Shawn stared at the array of flowers in front of him, feeling overwhelmed with all the kinds to choose from. There were 100 different types of flowers that had ten different colors each, which was too many in his opinion. The florist working at the front of the shop must have noticed his confusion, offering some help that Shawn graciously accepted.

“Would you like some help?” she asked once she was beside him.

Shawn snapped out of his trance, slightly startled to see someone next to him. “Uhh, yeah. I want to get some flowers for my wife but I have no idea which ones to get,” he chuckled. He kind of wanted them to have meaning behind them, but he had no idea where to even begin with that notion.

“Do you know what her favorite type is?”

“I don’t think she really has one? I mean, if she does, she’s never told me.”

The florist laughed to herself at his obliviousness.

“Alright then, what’s the occasion?”

“Not really a reason either,” he chuckled nervously, hand coming up to rub his neck. “She’s pregnant and it’s been a rough week for her so I just wanted to do something nice. Kinda to say ‘I love you’ ya know?”

“We can work with that.” She explained the meanings of some of the flowers in front of them and Shawn picked out two that caught his eye. Pink carnations and yellow lilies to represent his love and excitement.

He was about to go up front so they could be put into a bouquet when some white tulips caught his eye. “What does a white tulip mean?”

“Depends on the context,” the florist explained as she turned around. “In your situation, I’d say it means a victory.”

Shawn grinned. That would make you laugh. “I’ll take some of those too please.”

He paid for the (slightly overpriced) bouquet, opting to not get a vase, knowing that you had plenty from past times he bought you flowers.

Meanwhile, you were making dinner and singing to yourself in the kitchen. Your day had been pretty good compared to the rest of the week but you wanted nothing more than for your husband to come home from the studio.

You were too wrapped up in your thoughts to hear Shawn come in, only noticing him when he said hello as he walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he leaned in for a kiss, the bouquet in his hand behind his back. “How was your day?”

“Oh, hey, babe. My day wasn’t too bad,” you replied after breaking the kiss and turning back to the stove to stir the soup. “You?”

“Pretty good.” He pressed up against you from behind and wrapped his arms around you, kissing your temple and placing the bouquet in front of your face. “These are for you.”

You gasped and took it from his hand, leaning your head back against his chest as you admired it.

“I love you.” He pressed another kiss to your temple and placed his hands on your bump.

“Aww, Shawn. Thank you, baby.” You turned your head to connect your lips once again. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing. I just-”

“Shit, did I forget something?” Your eyes widened as you worried that you forgot an important day.

“No, no, no,” he reassured you. “The occasion is that I love you and I’m proud of you and you deserve some flowers.”

You sighed in relief at that. “Sorry, pregnancy brain is something else.”

“No need to apologize. Why don’t I get you a vase for them and finish dinner while you sit down and tell me about your day?” His thumbs rubbed circles into your belly and you couldn’t help relaxing into him.

“You’re the actual best. What did I do to deserve you?”

“I think I could ask you the same.” He squeezed you the slightest bit tighter. “Now, go sit!”

He told you all about the meanings of the flowers as he finished up dinner.

“Okay, so what about the tulips?” You were already grinning from ear to ear, in awe of how much effort he put into the seemingly simple bouquet.

“Apparently, they can mean a bunch of stuff. In our context though, it means victory.”

“Victory? Victory of what?”

“I got you pregnant. That is the victory, my dear.” He sent you an overexaggerated wink that sent you into a fit of giggles. “I know, the amount of thought I put into it is very impressive.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you said as he placed a bowl of soup in front of you. “Thank you.”

“I appreciate you, my lovely wife.”

“I appreciate you too, my lovely husband.”

He bought you flowers a lot more after that.

#Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes one shot #Reader insert #Y/N #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes x Y/N #Husband!Shawn #Dad!Shawn #Anna writes #Anna’s blurbs

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iconfusionwastaken · 3 years ago

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🧁 BadBoyHalo reborn as a demon antagonist AU 🧁

This AU is part of the DSMP Reborn as a “villain” AU multiverse, the link shows the masterpost which explains the AUs & has the index for more AUs that I posted.

If an AU has no link attached, it's coming soon.

Holy crap I went hard for the angst on this one.

CWs for:

Non-consensual body modification (cause of the Egg), Parasites (because Egg), Loss of a limb (Not Egg's fault surprisingly), & Derealization in a paragraph

Let me know if I need to add any other CW or anything else.

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

As a child Bad wakes up 1 day to learn that in his 1st life, he played a video game/read 2 novels where his current life, became 1 of the Demon Lords who willingly worshipped/was possessed by the Egg & worked for it. In fact OG him is the Egg's future 2nd in command & poses as the leader of the empire dedicated to it, & he was killed/defeated late in the story.

(Up to you if it's a game or novel, w/ a game maybe there's multiple routes/choices meaning multiple endings while w/ a novel, in canon the Demon Lords were all killed while in a spin-off they were just defeated not killed or maybe it's the other way around w/ the novels, or maybe it's a single novel w/ a mix of some Demon Lords dying while some survive.)

It was pretty ambiguous if some of the Demon Lords were wholy possessed or willingly worshiped the Egg w/o possession, or a mixture of the 2.

(If we want to we can have this world be the same world where Techno is reincarnated as Billiam, because then they could discover they're in the same boat & bond over it but I'm making those worlds/time periods seperate for this post.)

The Demon Lords & the Egg formed the Eggpire. 1 by 1 in the story they are killed/defeated by Puffy, Sam, &/or Technoblade, the protagonists. If the Demon Lords weren't killed they were defeated at a terrible cost for themselves & others.

Bad won't accept being a villain, or being killed or worshipping/being possessed by the Egg.

The good thing is that he remembered this before the Egg has enough power to get him & the other future Demon Lords under it, so he has time to plan. Actually Bad has a few decades to prepare!

On the off chance that the Egg possessed the lords, he wants to find the future Demon Lords & other major charaters so as to prevent that.

In the original story, Puffy & Sam are demons who betray the Eggpire which they help found early after it's formation due to realizing the Egg is bad. They flee, & later form 'Pro-Omelette' in opposition of it, w/ Technoblade joining their cause at some point in the story after OG Bad & the Egg fails to recruit him.

Unfortunatly, while fleeing, Puffy & Sam fail to do some things/do some things which they regret then & in the future that also has major consequences as they feared.

Another close ally is Hannah, a dryad/nymph who aids them w/ her powers. At some point the Eggpire captures her meaning she has to be saved & after that as the story progresses Sam, Puffy & maybe even Technoblade if he's also a demon starts feeling a strange kinship & repulsion towards & against her.

There's also the starborne mercenary Purpled who isn't willing to work w/ the Eggpire due to them taking his big sibling figure.

(Starborne means the starborne origins from the Origins mods for Minecraft).

Everyone has their own motifs, Puffy the sheep demon pirate has pirate & sheep motifs. Sam the creeper demon redstoner has a redstone motif. Techno has a pig motif. Purpled's motifs are stars, galaxy patterns & just anything to do w/ space.

Ponk, the chicken demon w/ a lemon (tree) & chicken motif is Sam's ex who was heartbroken by his sudden disappearance. He joined the very Eggpire Sam betrayed & had his heartbreak used to harden his resolve for the Egg's desires.

He is the 1st Demon Lord to be killed/defeated. If defeated he's turned against the Egg w/ the power of love leading to Sam & Ponk making up, maybe they never go back to dating or Ponk's ability to love was taken away by the Egg after he goes against it.

Maybe early in the fight Sam is holding back his emotions, cuts of Ponk's arm which leads to Ponk's reaction snapping Sam out of it & then Sam has to convince Ponk he geniunely loves him & regrets leaving him the rest of the fight, just angst.

(Sam saving Ponk from the Eggpire w/ the power of love only for Ponk losing the ability to love after betraying the Eggpire, oh yeah the angst).

If Ponk is killed, well Sam is extra vulnerable to the Egg's influence & risks getting brainwashes by it while carries the guilt of killing his lover w/o reconciling.

Maybe Ponk isn't killed but Sam's tunnel vision to defeat him causes Ponk to die of broken heart syndrome (maybe induced by the Egg?) oof & Sam regrets not contacting Ponk after escaping the Eggpire & forming Pro-Omelette & is extra vulnerable to the Egg.

Also there's these these flowers called Carnations that have different meanings depending on color, maybe the 2 have a shared magical carnation flower that Sam ends up taking w/ him while fleeing from the Egg, so the dark red flower (love & affection) becomes almost fully yellow (disapointment & rejection) which makes Sam truly realize the extent of what he's done by leaving Ponk w/o like a note on what's going on.

Maybe to Sam's horror the flower sometimes flashes to being striped (regret love can't be shared) before going back to being yellow w/ a tiny bit of dark red some where.

During the battle, if Sam manages to convince Ponk to defect from the Egg, the flower flashes fully dark red but then the Egg take Ponk's ability to love. This takes away Ponk's connection to the flower making it half dead & the flower permanently is striped.

If we go the route of Ponk's death, the flower doesn't flash dark red at all, it goes from yellow to striped when Ponk dies, disconnecting his magic to the flower making the flower half dead.

Punz is next to go, they are a human mercenary turned into a demon after joining the Eggpire be it because of possession or there being promising gains of wealth from joining the Eggpire. He has a wealth motif.

Since Punz was turned by the Egg, he has Blood Vine's for horns & said vines for a tail.

Punz fights his own brother & talks about how the money is worth more than Purpled, how they don't love Purpled, etc., which Purpled refuses to believe is true.

Punz either dies (meaning a grieving Purpled for the rest of the story vulnerable to the Egg) or ends up in a coma (extra angsty if Purpled thinks he it himself).

Purpled is scared for his big sibling's health, will they be okay when the Egg dies? Well, after the Egg's defeat Punz wakes up some point afterwards but his health is awful, said awful health will last a long time & they can never do mercenary work again, both he & Purpled are distraught by this.

Punz's demon features are especially sickly & act like a parasite for a while before just dying. Punz basically didn't/couldn't have his connection to the Egg & his new demonhood removed, now he's here w/ maybe chronic fatigue because the Egg seriously fucks people over even in death.

Skeppy, a blue-turned-red diamond golem-turned-demon, goes down after Punz's defeat. Skeppy has a gem motif, & in the past made a purely proffesional deal w/ OG Bad, while OG Bad would forfeit his immortality to make Skeppy harder for death to claim, & as a result became a demon, Skeppy would provide OG Bad w/, let's say 1/2 of the gems & riches he owned.

Remember that if Skeppy dies, Bad dies but Bad can't die w/o Skeppy dying 1st.

Skeppy basically helps fund the Eggpire. When the Egg decides to give Skeppy some demon stuff itself, Skeppy not only is made of red diamonds now, but his body is cracked if not before & there are roots & flowers sticking out of said cracks.

Skeppy joins the Eggpire because of possession &/or promises of an even longer life through a connection w/ 2 demons.

After his defeat, the Eggpire is more desperate than ever due to losing a big funder, putting effort into getting Skeppy back. The vines also act parasitic after the Egg's fall before dying but not w/o Skeppy's mind & body being damaged by the vines.

If Skeppy is killed then OG Bad's connection to the Egg is the only thing keeping him alive if barely meaning Bad's easier to kill & the Eggpire more desperate than in the route Skeppy lives.

Antfrost, the demon w/ a cat, ant & ice motifs, the '2nd in command' of the Eggpire to the everyone. Only alone w/ the Egg & OG Bad is he called the 3rd in command since that's what he truly was.

If Ant is killed/defeated, OG Bad has to deal w/ getting a new “2nd” in command, this time keeping her in the shadows so as to keep her from being taken on by Pro-Omelette. Security is tightened as much as it can be.

The Eggpire becomes even more stressed if Ant is defeated & is w/ Pro-Omelette 1 way or another because Ant knows a lot of stuff they'd rather never get out.

If Ant's defeated & a prisoner of the protagonists, maybe they get some info from him but soon he is released by a traitor but as he escapes he winds up stranded somewhere in a place that won't be kind to him unaware of how to get back to the Eggpire. Perhaps for the rest of the story.

At this point Pro-Omelette also tighten security since they have a traitor in their ranks.

Althought Hannah is acting suspicious, she isn't like vanishing at random times or acting that off so they can't exactly suspect her. She's got sick this once & has been pretty unwell but who can blame her? So many of her flowers got destroyed & leeched off of in Ant's escape.

The demons of Pro-Omelette are feeling a strange repulsion against her but also a strange kinship towards her.

If Skeppy is dead, Bad when being confronted by the enemy instantly is sapped of all his power & life left since the Egg realizes it's about to loose him. Or his connection to the Egg is severed by Pro-Omellete before it can happen leading to him naturally dying.

If Skeppy isn't dead however, Bad is captured but not w/o the Egg taking all the power it can from him severely weakening him on a level of power & health.

OG Bad was a very powerful demon & so if Skeppy lives, the Egg gets a major power boost before his capture, but in the route of Skeppy's death, the Egg doesn't get that much since it had to keep Bad from dying.

After Bad is down, Hannah goes missing again & there are 2 groups, 1 to find Hannah & the other to take down the Egg once & for all.

Either 1 or both groups find the Egg & to their horror they find out since Hannah's 1st capture the Egg brainwashed her, has been leaching off of her & replaced the flowers she wears w/ it's vines.

The Egg holds Hannah's life over them. If the Egg took the power of OG Bad in the route Skeppy lives it's much for difficult to try & defeat the Egg & save Hannah.

Also the Egg turned Hannah into a demon that has the power to grow vines & flowers. She's powerful but even more if Skeppy lives.

Egged!Hannah does a number on Pro-Omelette. She goes as far as to maim, kill controlling the vines & worm parasitic plants in people. The Egg has these powers too.

There are 4 directions at this point.

Pro-Omelette succesfully kills the Egg while getting Hannah out of it's grasp in the process, of course there's the parasitic plants & other damage done to the protagonists' side as well as Hannah who's health is super fucked liked many in the final battle (it's kinda like what happens to Punz if he lives). Like Hannah who was turned into some egg-demon who's egg-demon parts act like parasites & others w/ the parasitic plants in them have to deal w/ the plants till said parasites die & even then there's the stuff to deal /w the parasites deaths.

Hannah is killed by the Egg sapping everything from her & fighting w/ all it's new might but still killed. The damage done to everyone else is significantly worse. I'm not even accounting for the background characters brainwashed, genuinly worshipping the Egg dealing w/ the fall of the Egg, the aftermath, etc.

The Egg & Egged!Hannah win, some Pro-Omelette members in battle are killed while the rest are captured to be egged.

Hannah dies to the Egg sapping everything from her & the Egg wins w/ it's rejuvenated power. Many Pro-Omelette members in battle are killed while the rest are captured to be egged. Basically 3 & 4 are the bad endings, while 1 & 2 are the 'good endings.'

As I said before, there's so much I'm not considering. I can't bring myself to further work on the canon of the game/novel(s) Bad played before being isekaied.

But yeah the game/novels were full of angst & Bad was super into it so he wants to give everyone (especially his favorite character(s)) a happy ending.

People around Bad notice he's changed his behavior but lets say it's not enough to warrant any investigation.

Bad starts studying defensive magic since he doesn't want to die, he also learns all he can about summoning, deals w/ summoners, etc.. While he's at it he's tracking down all the major characters & is going to make sure they know what he's learned to prevent any possession.

When Bad finds the major characters, he becomes close friends to them but he's still nervous at the idea that the people he's befriending like Sam, Puffy & co. will kill/maim him.

Or we could have it so that Bad becomes cofortable w/ his friends & confessed about having a past life & all the knowledge of future events he has. You're choice.

When Skeppy summons him & he makes the deal w/ Skeppy he makes sure to hang around his #1 favorite character because, in his 1st life Bad loved Skeppy's character & now he has the chance to geniunely know & become friends w/ Skeppy. Skeppy even warms up to Bad & geniunely begins seeing him a a friend!

Uh, I didn't exactly develop the world much, oops, let's say that Bad is born into a high enough position to change the living conditions of those of lower class of those around him.

Bad out of fear of the Egg makes sure as many people as possible have the common sense to not do anything stupid, has the knowledge & defense to not get possessed, & more, regardless of whatever barriers are in his way.

Since the Egg makes promises, he makes sure to nip that bud as much as he can, such as making sure that even in death, loved ones can communicate via like necromancy/something else, everybody has their needs met, prejudices are squashed as much as possible, etc.

Bad, while earning the ire of many who liked things the way they were, also earns the support of those who benifited from his actions. He also actually listens to what people are saying because he can't let the Egg have any chances.

The main cast of the game/novel(s) Bad read also help out, even more if Bad confessess about his past life.

(The next paragraph has some derealization, said section of derealization being in bold.)

If we want angst, we could have Bad (& co. if they know?) overworking themselves sometimes because the Egg can't have any chances, maybe sometimes he (& others) can't go to bed because he/she/they are terrified of the Egg, terrified of it, worried about the Egg already being here, worried about the Egg already somehow possibly controlling & possessing them & already being possessed, sometimes wondering if their own mind & eyes can be trusted—

On the bright side we can hopefully have some comfort & fluff after that angst & hurt.

Also there's this 1 guy also helping Bad out as much as the main cast called Karl, he disappears at random times but by the looks of it, he isn't connected to the Egg in any way & is really helpful so there's not much to worry about.

#Long Post #Dream SMP AU #DSMP AU #Reborn as a villain au #BadBoyHalo #Punz #Skeppy #Ponk #Eggpire #The Egg #Hannahxxrose #Awesamdude #Captain Puffy #Purpled #Cw Limb loss #cw parasites #cw non consensual body modification #cw derealization

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brooklynmuseum · 5 years ago

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Springtime in Brooklyn by Nancy Rosoff, Andrew W. Mellon Senior Curator, Arts of the Americas

As I look out my window at the falling rain, I know that these April showers will soon be followed by May’s flowers. The vibrant colors of budding trees and blossoming flowers give us hope that we will overcome the current crisis, and the world will be rejuvenated, stronger, and more unified. The following works from the Brooklyn Museum’s diverse collection celebrate the arrival of Spring and our hope for a healthy and more peaceful world.

Brightly colored plants and flowers made of faience once decorated the walls of the Great Palace of king Akhenaten at Amarna. Sun light and the disk of the sun itself became the focus of religious worship in the Amarna period (1353-13336 B.C.E.). The floral motifs of these tiles were meant to evoke rebirth of life brought about by the sun. See the artwork in our open collection.

While the Nile was revered as a life-giving place, the desert was also teeming with nature. Here one can see animals breeding in their desert environs. To the right, a feline is showing interest in another feline. At the lower left, a male antelope, mounting his mate, rears his head into the row above. At the lower right, the hindquarters of an antelope giving birth and the emerging head of her calf are partly preserved. The bovine calf at center left completes this depiction of the cycle of life. See the artwork in our open collection.

This detail from a Nasca mantle not only illustrates some of the plants and animals native to Peru’s South Coast, but it also conveys how the society’s spiritual beliefs are connected to agricultural seasons. The blossoming huarango tree seen here represents life and is shown growing out of a human trophy head on the back of a pampas cat. The trophy head symbolizes death but it is also a germinating seed from which life sprouts in a never-ending cycle of life, death, and rebirth. See the artwork in our open collection.

This late-seventeenth-century painting from viceregal Peru shows Saint Joseph standing hand-in-hand with the Christ Child in a field of blooming flora and enclosed within a border of bright carnations and lilies. Saint Joseph’s popularity flourished at this moment in the Spanish Americas as he embodied ideals of fatherhood, marriage, divinity, and masculinity. Here, he holds a stem of white lilies, which symbolize his holiness and purity. See the artwork in our open collection.

This sculpture would have served as a means for people to contact spiritual intermediaries for aid. Its raised arms are said to refer to prayers for rain, crucial to survive and thrive in arid the Mopti Region of Mali. See the artwork in our open collection.

The use of naturalistic floral motifs, such as carnations, tulips, and hyacinths, was a trademark of the design workshop of the Ottoman court in Istanbul in the mid-sixteenth century. This design principle was adopted in central and distant areas of the empire and applied to different media, such as manuscript illuminations made in Istanbul, textiles made in Bursa, and tiles made in Iznik and Damascus. This octagonal tile from Syria brings the beauty of spring indoors permanently. See the artwork in our open collection.

Vibrant greens and blues bring a spring woodland scene inside the Museum, creating an eternal verdant landscape. The effects of changing sunlight or a passing cloud can animate the glass used to depict the stream, tree trunks and leaves. Originally installed in the Universalist Church of Our Father at Classon and Atlantic Avenues in Brooklyn, the windows were purchased by the All Souls Universalist Church on Ocean Avenue and installed in 1945, before coming to the Brooklyn Museum a few years ago. Tiffany Studio was extremely skilled at creating panoramas that open onto lush, brilliantly colored vistas. See the artwork in our open collection.

This elaborately decorated cabinet brought ever-blooming flowers into the owner’s bedroom. Inspired by Japanese precedents, New York’s most important late-19th-century furniture manufacturing firm Herter Brothers employed different colored woods to create the densely packed, abstracted flowers and leaves on this luxurious, yet functional chest-of-drawers. See the artwork in our open collection.

In the Japanese tradition, cherry blossom season is a time for celebration: the world wakes up after a long winter and people head outside to gather under the pink-and-white canopies created by trees that seemed barren only a week or two earlier. This year the picnics were cancelled, but in nature the show goes on whether there’s an audience or not. See the artwork in our open collection.

In this painting, Gustave Caillebotte offers a glimpse of his private garden in Petit Gennevilliers, a small village on the Seine opposite Argenteuil. The apple blossoms are rendered in thick touches of paint, which contrast with the sketchy treatment of the path that leads toward the denser foliage beyond the tree. See the artwork in our open collection.

Nothing celebrates Spring more than this dazzling child’s cap with its delicate beadwork on vibrant rose-colored velvet. It was lovingly made by the mother or female relative of a little girl who would have worn it with pride during special occasions. See the artwork in our open collection.

A table set with bread and coffee in a blooming garden along a sun-dappled path conjures the pleasures of the warmer months to come. Robert Delaunay would become known later in his career for more abstract work, but in this early painting the 19 year old artist was still working under the influence of Impressionism. See the artwork in our open collection.

Redolent with the sweet scent of peonies, American Impressionist Ernest Lawson paints his flowerbeds in a dazzling display of jewel like tones in the Cos Cob art-colony located along the Connecticut shore. See the artwork in our open collection.

This Balinese cover features bright brocade rosettes in purple, blue, red, yellow, and green. The gilded gold overpaint features patra cina designs borrowed from Chinese floral patterns. Together, they create a glittering textile that is awash with color and floral motifs. See the artwork in our open collection.

One of the Brooklyn Museum’s most important Japanese paintings is a folding screen showing a group of urbanites walking together, followed by a musician and a servant with a big box. The only clue that they are heading to a cherry-blossom-viewing picnic comes from a woman who extends a branch of flowering cherry back toward a group of men. Attached to the branch is a long strip of paper of the type used traditionally in Japan for writing poems. What does the poem strip say? We don’t know, but it seems fair to guess that it serves as an invitation to romance. The screen reminds us that the spring tradition of partying beneath the cherry trees wasn’t solely about communing with nature. See the artwork in our open collection.

Inspired by Japanese folding screens or byōbu, Elizabeth Boott Duveneck’s five panels bring the natural world into the interior of the house depicting all four seasons from Autumn Foliage to Apple blossoms throughout the year. See the artwork in our open collection.

Beginning in the early 1930s, Consuelo Kanaga became one of few white photographers to make artistic portraits of Black Americans. This closely cropped and sharply focused image of a girl’s face with a flower was likely included in Group f.64’s inaugural exhibition in 1932, which announced a new realist direction in photography. Considered radical in its time, Frances with a Flower explores powerful ideas about beauty, gender, and race. See the artwork in our open collection.

Mary Wollstonecraft was a renowned women’s rights activist who authored "A Vindication of the Rights of Woman," (1792), a classic of rationalist feminism that is considered the earliest and most important treatise, advocating for equality and education for women. Akin to the nature of Spring, Wollstonecraft's life symbolized the fruition of a legacy—from which infinite linages of women continue to reap the fruits of her labor. See the artwork in our open collection.

With rose-patterned leggings and an elaborate floral armature/headdress, Nick Cave’s Soundsuit transforms the human body into a lush garden. Since the early 1990s, Cave has been fabricating inventive sculptures out of scavenged materials, which he often overlays with beadwork, stitching, and other embellishments. One of the first, crafted from twigs, was made to be worn and created a rustling sound, which led to the eventual name of such works: Soundsuits. Cave’s costumes draw from a variety of sources, including both African and Caribbean traditions of masquerade. See the artwork in our open collection.

Posted by Nancy Rosoff with contributions from the Curators and Curatorial Assistants of African, American, Ancient Egyptian, Arts of the Americas, Asian, Contemporary, Elizabeth A. Sackler Center for Feminist Art, and Islamic Art

Photos: Gary Alan Bukovnik (American, born 1947). Rhododendrum, 1980. Lithograph on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the artist, 81.15.2. © Gary Alan Bukovnik(Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Tile with Floral Inlays, ca. 1352-1336 B.C.E. Faience. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the Egypt Exploration Society, 35.2001. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Relief with Desert Scene, ca. 2472-2455 B.C.E. Limestone, pigment. Brooklyn Museum, Charles Edwin Wilbour Fund, 64.147. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Nazca. Mantle ("The Paracas Textile"), 100-300 C.E. Cotton, camelid fiber. Brooklyn Museum, John Thomas Underwood Memorial Fund, 38.12; Cuzco School. Saint Joseph and the Christ Child, late 17th-18th century. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Museum Expedition 1941, Frank L. Babbott Fund, 41.1275.191 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Dogon. Nommo Figure with Raised Arms, 11th-15th century (possibly). Wood, organic sacrificial material. Brooklyn Museum, The Adolph and Esther D. Gottlieb Collection, 1989.51.39. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Octagonal Tile Depicting Peacock in Prunus Tree, 16th century. Ceramic; fritware, painted in black, cobalt blue, green, and manganese purple under a transparent glaze. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Jack A. Josephson, 1990.21. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Tiffany Studios (1902-1932). Dawn in the Woods in Springtime, 1905. Stained glass window. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of All Souls Bethlehem Church, 2014.17.1. Creative Commons-BY; Herter Brothers (American, 1865-1905). Chest-of-Drawers, ca. 1880. Ebonized cherry, other woods, modern marble top, brass. Brooklyn Museum, Modernism Benefit Fund, 1989.69. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Utagawa Hiroshige (Ando) (Japanese, 1797-1858). Suijin Shrine and Massaki on the Sumida River (Sumidagawa Suijin no Mori Massaki), No. 35 from One Hundred Famous Views of Edo, 8th month of 1856. Woodblock print. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Anna Ferris, 30.1478.35 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Gustave Caillebotte (French, 1848-1894). Apple Tree in Bloom (Pommier en fleurs), ca. 1885. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Bequest of William K. Jacobs, Jr., 1992.107.2 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Woodlands. Child's Cap, ca. 1890s. Velvet, cloth, beads. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the Edward J. Guarino Collection in memory of Josephine M. Guarino, 2016.11.2. Creative Commons-BY; Robert Delaunay (French, 1885-1941). In the Garden (Dans le jardin), 1904. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Iris and B. Gerald Cantor, 86.28 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Ernest Lawson (American, 1873-1939). Garden Landscape, ca. 1915. Oil on canvas. Brooklyn Museum, Bequest of Laura L. Barnes, 67.24.10 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Cover, 19th or early 20th century. Silk, pigment. Brooklyn Museum, Dick S. Ramsay Fund, 45.183.110. Creative Commons-BY; Cherry Blossom Viewing Picnic, ca. 1624-1644. Ink, color and gold leaf on paper. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Frederic B. Pratt, 39.87. Creative Commons-BY (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Elizabeth Boott Duveneck (American, 1846-1888). Apple Blossoms, 1882. Oil on wood panel. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Joan Harmen Brown, Mr. and Mrs. William Slocum Davenport, Mrs. Lewis Francis, Samuel E. Haslett, William H. Herriman, Joseph Jefferson IV, Clifford L. Middleton, the New York City Police Department, Mrs. Charles D. Ruwe, Charles A. Schieren, the University Club, Mrs. Henry Wolf, Austin M. Wolf, and Hamilton A. Wolf, by exchange, Frank Sherman Benson Fund, Museum Collection Fund, Dick S. Ramsay Fund, Carll H. de Silver Fund, John B. Woodward Memorial Fund, and Designated Purchase Fund , 2005.54.3 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Consuelo Kanaga (American, 1894-1978). Frances with a Flower, early 1930s. Gelatin silver photograph. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the Estate of Consuelo Kanaga, 82.65.10 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum); Judy Chicago (American, b. 1939). The Dinner Party (Mary Wollstonecraft place setting), 1974–79. Mixed media: ceramic, porcelain, textile. Brooklyn Museum, Gift of the Elizabeth A. Sackler Foundation, 2002.10. © Judy Chicago. Photograph by Jook Leung Photography; Nick Cave (American, born 1959). Soundsuit, 2008. Mixed media. Brooklyn Museum, Mary Smith Dorward Fund, 2009.44a-b. © Nick Cave (Photo: Image courtesy of Robilant Voena)

#virtualtour #springtime #spring #brooklyn museum #museums #brooklyn #virtual tour #art #art museum #bkmtours #virtual tours

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