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novaursa · 3 months ago

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Skyfall

- Summary: Baela and you chase after Cole and his men. You fall from the sky straight into Gwayne's arms. Literally.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is Rhaenyra's younger sister. The reader is also bonded with Silverwing. For more parts, and if you want to read this in chronological order check my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 2 997

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

The woods blur past as you cling to Silverwing's saddle, the thrill of the chase coursing through your veins. Baela and Moondancer had led the initial pursuit, their swift movements through the sky like arrows seeking their target. But now, it’s you and Silverwing against the fading light, and the dense canopy below.

"Go on, Baela! I’ll take it from here!" you shout, your voice mingling with the rush of wind.

Baela gives you a quick, sharp nod before veering off, her focus shifting elsewhere. You and Silverwing dive, the leaves slapping at you like an annoyed housemaid.

"Alright, girl," you murmur to Silverwing, "let's show them what we’ve got."

Your dragon roars in agreement, her silvery scales glinting in the dying sunlight as you plummet into the forest. The branches are closer now, snapping past you, some grazing your armor, others too thick to avoid.

You laugh, the exhilaration of danger making your heart race. "Just a bit further!"

But Silverwing, despite her grace, is a creature of the sky, not the woods. A particularly thick branch catches you off guard, striking your side. You gasp, losing your grip. Silverwing tries to stabilize, but it’s too late.

"Y/N!" you hear someone shout, but the world spins as you tumble through the air, your body crashing through the foliage.

The ground rushes up to meet you, but instead of the hard earth, you find yourself landing against something softer and warmer. There’s a grunt, a thud, and then silence.

You blink, trying to regain your senses. Your eyes meet a pair of very familiar ones, wide with shock and framed by a mess of light auburn hair.

"Ser Gwayne?" you manage to say, your voice breathless. The realization hits you both at the same time – you’ve landed right in his arms, sending him off his horse. He’s on his back, staring up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Princess Y/N," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face despite the circumstances. "This is a rather unconventional way to reunite."

You quickly scramble off him, cheeks flushing. "I didn’t plan it this way, trust me."

Gwayne gets to his feet, offering you a hand. "I’d say you’re getting better at making dramatic entrances."

Before you can retort, the surrounding knights, led by Criston Cole, converge on you, their expressions a mix of shock and suspicion.

"Well, well," Criston says, eyeing you warily, "looks like we’ve caught ourselves a dragon princess."

You roll your eyes, dusting off your clothes. "Congratulations. Do I get a prize for being the most unexpected guest?"

Gwayne stifles a laugh, earning a sharp glance from Criston. "Secure her," Criston commands. "We can’t risk her getting away."

Gwayne steps closer, his eyes softening slightly. "I’ll take care of it."

You meet his gaze, something unspoken passing between you. He had been your suitor once, and now here you are, on opposite sides of a conflict neither of you had asked for.

"Try not to tie the ropes too tight, will you?" you quip, trying to lighten the mood. "I bruise easily."

He smirks, giving you a look that says he remembers more than he lets on. "I’ll do my best, Princess."

As the knights surround you, Silverwing roars above, finally breaking free from the canopy and circling protectively. The men look up nervously, but you know Silverwing won’t attack without your command.

"Easy, girl," you call up to her. "I’m fine."

Gwayne’s touch is gentle as he secures your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin longer than necessary. "We’ll keep you safe," he murmurs, so only you can hear. "I promise."

You nod, a mixture of gratitude and sadness filling your heart. "I know."

And so, surrounded by enemies and yet strangely comforted by an old friend, you find yourself a captive – but one who is far from defeated.

The knights form a loose circle around you as they lead you through the woods, heading in the direction of Duskendale. Silverwing continues to circle overhead, her shadow passing over the treetops, a constant reminder of the power you still wield, even as a captive.

"Call off your dragon, Princess," Criston Cole demands, his tone clipped with irritation. "We don’t need her burning the forest down around us."

You meet his gaze with a steady one of your own. "That’s not how it works, Ser Criston. Silverwing follows her own instincts. I can’t just call her off like a hunting hound."

Criston grunts, clearly dissatisfied with your answer, but he says nothing more, focusing on leading the group forward.

Gwayne stays close to your side, his presence a strange mix of comforting and disconcerting. You glance at him, catching the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Unfortunate, isn’t it?" he says after a moment, his voice low enough for only you to hear. "Your late father never approved of our match."

You give a dry laugh, shaking your head. "Probably for the better. I don’t fancy being locked up in a tower all my life."

Gwayne’s smile widens, genuine amusement in his eyes. "You think I’d lock you up in a tower? You clearly have no idea what kind of husband I would have been."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what kind of husband would you have been, Ser Gwayne?"

"The kind who knows better than to try to change a dragon," he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Besides, I value my life too much to cage something as fierce as you."

You chuckle softly, but the humor is short-lived as reality sinks in. "And yet, here we are. I’m chained, a captive to be killed or used as leverage against my sister."

Gwayne’s expression sobers, his eyes reflecting a mix of regret and resolve. "I wish it were different, Y/N. But these are the times we live in."

You sigh, looking up at Silverwing still soaring above. "Do you ever wonder, Gwayne, what might have been? If things had gone differently?"

He nods slowly, his gaze distant for a moment. "Every day. But wishing for the past won’t change the present. We can only deal with what’s in front of us."

"And what’s in front of us is a forest full of angry knights and a war that doesn’t seem to have an end," you say, a touch of bitterness in your voice.

Gwayne gives a soft laugh, the sound almost comforting. "At least you still have your sense of humor. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you."

You glance at him, surprised by his honesty. "And here I thought you only admired my dragon."

He smirks, shaking his head. "Silverwing is impressive, yes. But she’s nothing compared to you."

The compliment catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. The knights continue to lead you through the forest, their voices a distant hum as you walk beside Gwayne, the man who once might have been your husband.

The journey to Duskendale stretches ahead, uncertain and fraught with danger. But for now, at least, you have an ally by your side, even if he is also your captor. And in these uncertain times, that might be the closest thing to hope you have.

The sky darkens as Criston Cole’s men set up camp, the forest growing quieter as the night settles in. You’re confined to a tent, albeit a comfortable one, considering your status as a prisoner. The air inside is warm, lit by a single lantern casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls.

You sit on a makeshift bed, your thoughts drifting between your current predicament and the distant roar of Silverwing, a constant reminder of your connection to the skies above. The flap of the tent rustles, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression unreadable.

"Comfortable?" he asks, his tone casual but his eyes searching.

You give him a wry smile. "As comfortable as one can be in captivity."

He chuckles softly, stepping closer. "Could be worse. Criston wanted to keep you in chains outside, but I insisted on more... humane accommodations."

You raise an eyebrow. "And why is that, Ser Gwayne? Still holding a soft spot for me?"

He sits down beside you, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe I am. Or maybe I just know how to keep a dragon content without a fight."

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift in a reluctant smile. "Still think you can tame me?"

Gwayne’s gaze locks onto yours, intense and unwavering. "I never wanted to tame you, Y/N. I wanted to be beside you, as equals."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, the tension between you softens. You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. "And yet here we are, on opposite sides of a war."

"War or no war, some things don’t change," he murmurs, his hand wrapping around yours.

The air between you shifts, charged with unspoken words and lingering desires. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is urgent, fueled by the months of separation and the fear of an uncertain future.

Gwayne responds with equal fervor, his hands moving to release the binds on your wrists. As the ropes fall away, you bring your hands up to his chest, pulling him closer. His fingers fumble with the laces of your dragon riding attire, and you do the same with his armor, the urgency of your movements reflecting the intensity of your emotions.

"I missed this," he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding over your skin. "I missed you."

You shiver at his words, your own hands trembling as you help him undress. "I missed you too, Gwayne."

Clothing discarded, you pull him down onto the bed, your bodies pressed together in a desperate embrace. The warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, each touch sending sparks of desire through you.

Gwayne moves with practiced urgency, his hands guiding your hips as he enters you. The sensation is overwhelming, a mix of relief and need that leaves you gasping. "Y/N," he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "I need you."

You wrap your legs around him, urging him deeper. "Then take me," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

Your movements become frantic, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The world outside the tent fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other. Your breath mingles with his, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

As you reach your peak, Silverwing's roar echoes above, a wild and powerful sound that mirrors the intensity of your release. You cling to Gwayne, your nails digging into his back as you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

For a moment, time stands still, the only sound your ragged breathing and the distant rumble of your dragon. Gwayne collapses beside you, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you close.

"I love you," he murmurs against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. "No matter what happens, remember that."

You press a kiss to his chest, your own heart aching with the weight of your situation. "I love you too, Gwayne."

In the quiet aftermath, you find solace in each other's arms, knowing that whatever the future holds, this moment is yours and yours alone.

The next day dawns gray and heavy with tension. Criston Cole is restless, urging his men to pack up and prepare for the march to Duskendale. You watch from the confines of your tent, the memory of the previous night with Gwayne still fresh in your mind, a bittersweet ache in your chest.

Silverwing circles above, her presence a constant reminder of your strength and the bond you share. Gwayne catches your eye from across the camp, and you see a flicker of resolve in his gaze. He looks up at Silverwing and then back at you, subtly nodding—a signal.

Your heart races as you understand his unspoken message. It’s now or never.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself. As Criston and his men begin to move, you seize the moment. "Now," you whisper to yourself, breaking into a run.

Chaos erupts around you as Gwayne shouts, "Stop her!" But instead of joining the chase, he tackles Criston Cole to the ground, his body crashing into the other knight with surprising force.

Criston snarls, struggling under Gwayne's weight. "Hightower! What are you doing?"

"Giving her a fighting chance," Gwayne growls, pinning Criston down. "Get out of here, Y/N!"

The soldiers around you hesitate, torn between their orders and the unexpected fight unfolding between their leaders. Their momentary confusion is all the opportunity you need. You sprint towards the edge of the camp, your eyes fixed on Silverwing above.

"Come on, girl!" you shout, waving your arms. Silverwing roars in response, descending swiftly and landing with a thunderous impact.

You reach her just as the soldiers begin to recover from their shock. Hands grab at you, but you twist away, your foot finding purchase on Silverwing’s saddle. With practiced ease, you haul yourself up, securing the straps around your legs.

Silverwing launches into the air, her powerful wings beating the ground, sending dust and leaves swirling. Below, Gwayne glances up, meeting your eyes one last time. In that fleeting moment, a promise passes between you—a promise of love, loyalty, and hope for a future that might still be yours.

"Go!" Gwayne shouts, struggling to his feet as Criston shoves him off. "Fly, Y/N!"

You nod, your throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Gwayne."

With a final roar, Silverwing rises above the treetops, carrying you away from the camp and towards freedom. The wind whips through your hair as you steer her towards Dragonstone, the ache in your chest both a reminder of your captivity and the bond that now holds you and Gwayne together, despite the distance and the war.

As you fly, you cast one last look back, seeing Gwayne standing tall amidst the chaos, his eyes following you until you disappear into the horizon. It’s a silent vow that this isn’t the end—that you will find each other again.

For now, you focus on the path ahead, the promise of Dragonstone and the fight for your family fueling your determination. Silverwing’s powerful wings carry you onwards, each beat a testament to your resilience and the unbreakable devotion that ties you to those you love.

As Silverwing's silhouette fades into the distance, Gwayne braces himself for the inevitable confrontation. Criston Cole stands, brushing off the dirt from his armor, his eyes blazing with fury. The camp buzzes with confusion and tension, soldiers whispering and exchanging uneasy glances.

Cole's voice cuts through the murmurs like a knife. "What in the seven hells were you thinking, Hightower?"

Gwayne straightens, meeting Criston's glare with unwavering resolve. "I did what I thought was right."

Criston's nostrils flare, and he steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You let a valuable prisoner escape. Rhaenyra’s sister, no less. Do you have any idea what this means for us?"

"I do," Gwayne replies calmly. "But I also know what it means to treat people with honor. She wasn’t some bargaining chip to be used at will."

Cole’s eyes narrow, and he steps forward, closing the distance between them until they are almost nose to nose. "Honor? This is war, Gwayne. Honor gets you killed."

"Maybe," Gwayne retorts, his voice steady. "But it also makes you worth remembering. Y/N is no ordinary prisoner. She’s a dragon rider, a princess. Treating her like a common captive would only fuel more hatred and violence."

Criston shakes his head, incredulous. "You’re a fool if you think she’ll spare us any mercy. The moment she’s back with Rhaenyra, she’ll come for our heads."

Gwayne squares his shoulders, refusing to back down. "Perhaps. But at least I can live with myself knowing I didn’t betray everything we once stood for. We were knights of honor once, Criston. Have you forgotten that?"

Criston’s face contorts with rage, and for a moment, Gwayne thinks he might draw his sword. Instead, Criston takes a deep breath, visibly struggling to control his temper. "You’ve jeopardized our mission, and for what? Sentiment?"

Gwayne holds his ground, his voice unwavering. "For what’s right. You may not understand now, but one day, you might."

Criston’s eyes flash with a mix of anger and something else—perhaps a flicker of respect and understanding. "This isn't over, Gwayne. Not by a long shot. You’ll answer for this."

"I already have," Gwayne says quietly. "And I’m prepared to face the consequences."

Criston turns away, signaling for the camp to resume its activities. "Get ready to move out!" he barks to the soldiers. "We’ve wasted enough time here."

As the camp stirs back into motion, Gwayne watches, his mind replaying the look in Y/N’s eyes as she flew to freedom. Despite the threat of retribution hanging over him, he feels a strange sense of peace. He has made his choice, and he would make it again a hundred times over.

One of the soldiers approaches, hesitant. "Ser Gwayne, what should we do now?"

Gwayne sighs, feeling the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. "We follow orders," he says, his voice firm. "We march to Duskendale and prepare for what comes next."

As the camp prepares to move, Gwayne allows himself a moment of reflection. He finds strength in the memory of Y/N’s freedom and the promise they silently shared.

Whatever the future holds, he will face it with the knowledge that he did what was right—not just for himself, but for the woman he loves and the honor he still believes in.

#house of the dragon #game of thrones #gwayne hightower #gwayne x reader #gwayne x you #gwayne x y/n #criston cole #silverwing #rhaenyra targaryen #house targaryen #house hightower

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chocopokkie · 7 months ago

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Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

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"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #tw noncon #yandere #yandere alastor #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

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bomber-grl · 4 months ago

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Feeling the Waves

~ Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

~ 1.5k words

As much as you’d normally love to eat the rich, you really couldn’t decline Damian’s offer. Your boyfriend had invited you to go spend a week at his family’s private Island and you just couldn’t help taking up on the offer.(which you later learned was in possession of a secret base somewhere)

The private jet contained everyone in the Wayne family and finally landed on the island after a good 6 hours. From Tim, Jason, dick, and Barbara all the way to Cass, Stephanie, Duke and obviously bruce. Of course we can’t forget about Alfred and Tim’s boyfriend, Bernard.

As soon as you landed, attendants on the island began getting your bags and you were guided in. The heat alone was no joke and if anything you felt like melting as a result wouldn’t be an improbable outcome.

The estate alone was to die for, worth more money than anything you’d probably ever own. The building was huge and the exterior design was only what you could describe as similar to that of Italian architecture.

The inside wasn’t much different either. The front desk was right up front and so was the extravagant stairs that welcomed you all in. The stairs were enormous and split into two different directions.

Chandeliers, fountains,and a snack bar??? They were all calling your name but your ears were drawn elsewhere. There was a vast amount of staff right besides the stairs you were admiring not so long ago, they addressed “Mr. Wayne” in unison and welcomed you all in.

You were all quickly sorted and escorted to your individual rooms. They were extremely gorgeous and you quickly learned that the view from your balcony rivaled their beauty.

You were bursting with energy as you looked through your abnormally large bathroom, and you were delighted to see your stuff all moved in.

Not to mention how Damian had gotten your rooms next to each other

It was barely 2:00 P.M but with the heat stroke you almost suffered in all about 5 minutes paired with you looking around, you were stumped.

You plopped onto your king sized bed on your belly and began to truly relax. The AC was blaring in all the right ways and sleep was calling your name.

6:00 P.M

A rapid knocking at your door was what scared you awake. Your body felt sweaty despite it being freezing inside and you quickly wiped away the drool on your face in favor of grabbing your phone.

“6:00 P.M” you’d been asleep for the past 4 hours???? What the hell???

The person at the door’s patience seemed to quickly thin as it opened. The face of the person that barged in was familiar, and someone you knew as non other than your boyfriend.

“Hey we’re going to the beach, wanna go?” Damian was already dressed for the beach and had a bag and a sun hat on him, presumably belonging to either steph or Cass.

Still riddled with sleep you responded “uhh sure let me just get ready”. Damian nodded and left to let you do your thing.

After a good 10 minutes of you quickly rushing to get your things for the beach you made your way down the stairs. Just for Jason and Dick to be spraying each other with water guns.

“Hey” Damian approached you while you sat at a common area that was on the first floor near the entrance. “Hey,… why’re you wet?” You couldn’t help but ask since he was drenched in water. He sighed “no reason let’s just go now” and he began walking towards the back where you knew glass doors that led to pools were, and basically the beach was.

It was only then that you realized that he came from where the stairs were, where Dick and Jason were.

You giggled at the fact that he got essentially jumped by them and the assumption was only reinforced when his face and exposed shoulders flushed.

You finally made it to the beach and made your way to where everyone was. There was a big canopy spanning over the large group you knew as Damian’s family. There were a several chairs spanned under this canopy and had a comfortable set up with some outside couches and coolers with drinks.

Bruce, Alfred and Cass were under this canopy while Tim was building sandcastles with Bernard, Jason was swimming out in the ocean and Dick was just chilling. Others were either lounging or spraying each other with overly tampered with, water guns.

The rest of the day passed quicker than you realized as you were swimming with Damian one moment, making seashell jewelry, and eating pizza at another moment (while simultaneously avoiding the beer that was currently being jugged down by a good amount of others)

Either way, the sun soon set and the night air was more humid against your face than dry. Cass, Barbara and a few others already went in so you decided to do so too. The cold air of the inside was more than jarring as you tightly wrapped your towel around yourself and made your way upstairs to shower and change.

As you passed the dining room you also passed the buffet that was filled with enough people you assumed it was the after party. Once arriving to your room you quickly made work of your soggy, wet and sand filled clothes and took a well deserved warm shower.

You probably would’ve went back down to the second level to get some wings, pasta or maybe some sweets like cookies, brownies, flan or even ice cream. The thoughts were washed away as you washed up and put some comfy pjs on along with some slippers.

Your bed was as appetizing as your favorite dish and you indulged in laying in it. The sheets were light and airy as to not suffocate you in heat. You sighed in content, you could hear the ocean waves clashing, you might as well have felt them against you as you laid here, too.

You quickly reached over for your phone on your nightstand and the time read “11:23P.M” A familiar knock reverberated throughout the room. The door from which it came was letting in light from under the door crack. Two feet shadows were smeared across the floor of your room as it faded into the darkness surrounding you and everything else.

It was Damian, you already knew and although you’d love to see him, you really didn’t have it in you to get up. Your phone began angrily buzzing and as you opened it you read three messages, each second adding a new one.

“You awake?” Seen 11:24pm

“Open the door”

“Bruh”

“Cmon it’s locked “

As if he couldn’t just unlock it himself…

“I know you’re awake 😾”

You sighed and grumbled as you moved the sheets away and made your way to the door. “whattttttt” you whined and Damian quickly pushed his way in. He laid down onto your bed and made himself comfortable. All you could bring yourself to do was stand there like a toddler.

“What?” He pat the spot next to him, the spot you were previously laying in. You grumbled and just made your way under the covers next to him. You two began talking about whatever came across your minds and somewhere along the way, the hallway light was turned off. You were in pure darkness.

“Hey” you asked, you and Damian were facing each other and your legs may or may not have been intertwined. “What’s up” he obviously moved his head but you couldn’t see beyond the light that seeped in through your balcony window.

“Were you wet because-“ Damian quickly covered your mouth with his hands and when you managed to peel them off he quickly pulled away from you and tried to escape. “Haha cmon damiannnn” you held onto his waist and tried to get him to lay down again.

After a little while of you prodding at him he finally answered “yes….” It was practically a mumble. “Huh? Sorry I didn’t hear you” you teased him and he grumbled and said it loud enough to be normal so you let it go. God forbid he get so fed up he leaves to his own room.

A long silence followed and you had assumed Damian was already asleep but then you felt him scratch his arm. “Damian?” It was the only time you might get to yourselves….

“What?” He moved again to face you and give you his full attention. “I love you” he grumbled and faced away while mumbling a small “you’re cringe.”

That seemed to have been the end of your conversation as it faded and your consciousness began to slip away. Before you could fully sleep, you fortunately felt Damian kiss your forehead and whisper back and ‘I love you too.’

The next morning you and Damian happily managed to get up early and eat breakfast together at a bar table that had a baristaon duty that made you and Damian some smoothies to go with your breakfast. While eating, the zombie you knew as Jason made his way towards you.

Clearly the beer consumption from last night was finally taking a toll on him…

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dunsterhouseblogs · 9 months ago

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Add a stunning entrance to your home with a wooden porch canopy. A practical addition that will keep visitors sheltered, bringing charm and character to your property.

https://dunsterhouse.co.uk/garden-rooms-and-porches/wooden-porch-half-height-w2m-x-d1-5m

#porches #wooden porch canopy #canopies #shelter #front door #home improvement #entrance #home design #home & lifestyle #home and garden #wooden structure #exterior

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architecturalcanopies · 1 year ago

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Why Are Modern Metal Awnings Popular?

Shading a structure from the harmful effects of UV Rays and other elements of nature is essential. While residences do not have much anxiety in this regard, the commercial properties that need to be open throughout the day for business find using some sort of cover essential. Sure, canvas awnings had long been in vogue for this purpose. Yet they are lacking today, especially when a huge building needs to be sheltered effectively. The architects of repute as well as engineers, recommend the use of modern metal awnings that not only fulfill expectations but are also aesthetically appealing. Apart from commercial buildings and retail stores, metal awnings have also become hugely popular in multi-family homes and leisure facilities. The first question that comes to mind is the properties associated with a metal awning that has gained many accolades of late. It suffices to learn that the modern awnings crafted out of metal are used as accents and jut out of the building. It captures instant attention and shades the building admirably from all elements of nature, including rain, sunlight, snow, and hail. The use of metal has proved to be more successful than the traditional canvas. Such structures are extremely durable and protect not only the building structure but also the individuals directly underneath the shade. Purpose of Installing Modern Metal Awnings · While it is customary to stand beneath a metal awning during inclement weather, a few awnings also protect from gales and hurricane-force winds, thus ensuring all-around protection. · The sturdy metal can withstand huge amounts of snow and the weight of uprooted trees. The business owner is thus well content to have such an awning installed. This not only saves lives and property but can help one to avoid liability suits too. · The beautiful accent and modern design grab eyeballs, making it stand out from other buildings in the vicinity. This is sure to increase the curb appeal and ensure improved ROI for the investor. · Since commercial properties make use of such modern awnings usually, the product may match the rest of the property in color and features too. Plus, most commercial establishments find the surface of the awning an excellent place to add a logo or the tagline of the concerned company, thereby adding to its brand value. · One may often come across public areas and facilities sporting metal awnings. Indeed, it is commonplace to install such awnings on porches, seating areas, bus stations, and walkways to be protected during inclement weather conditions. It is extremely popular to opt for a metal entrance canopy that ensures a welcoming effect and protects visitors from rain and sun. While numerous metal may be forged to shape the canopy, a combination of steel and aluminum is favored the most. One may also opt for Alumiframe, a unique metal awning system brand. It is lightweight and highly durable, making it the consumers' first choice.

#modern metal awnings metal entrance canopy

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go6jo · 1 year ago

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(love, as if it were carved in stone) s. geto

when he first lays eyes on you, suguru is fighting sleep, standing in the school’s courtyard at four in the morning taking languid puffs out of a cigarette to pass the time, deliberately dragging it out in hopes that sleep will come. however, these days, it hardly ever does.

it’s mid august and he has never been particularly fond of the summer or it’s heat — nor the endless stream of purging that inevitably comes with it.

you first walk into his life in nothing but a white nightgown — the sight so heavenly it’s almost impossible to forget. when you step outside the girls dorm, barefoot and weary, the smoke rushes to suguru’s lungs a little too abruptly, as if he were gasping for air — the material of your dress so flimsy that it's hardly appropriate to stare. suguru is sensible to a fault, many could agree that, unlike satoru, he is somewhat respectable. right now, however, against his better judgement, he can't seem to tear his eyes off of you.

he watches as you drop defeated on the ground before leaning your head against the wall and closing your eyes with a frustrated sigh that travels all the way through the soothing night breeze into suguru’s ears. he indulges himself for a little longer - you’re pretty, he thinks. had you noticed him standing there you would’ve made out a subtle fondness in the smile that grows, although tiredly, on his face. sympathy. he imagines the summer heat hasn’t been kind to you either.

you seem younger than him, a first year and freshly arrived, your ingenuity still intact - untarnished. and perhaps its the white that engulfs you but suguru thinks you look much too clean, too pure for the swarm of violence that awaits you. something that has started to slowly but surely eat away at him too. he can’t quite pinpoint when it happened — somewhere down the line though, he had long since lost his innocence. he takes another hit, the bitter taste that lies on his tongue from today's purging spree starting to subdue — he wishes you got to keep yours.

it's only then that you notice him, standing inconspicuously by the boy’s dorm entrance but you can’t quite make out his face in the dark, the canopy under which he stands blocking the light. your hands reach with urgency for the hem of your skirt to tug down on the fabric that had ridden a little too high on your thighs and suddenly you’re wary of the fact that the material was clinging to your sweaty skin leaving very little to the imagination - however suguru had already looked away at the first hint of your discomfort, blowing a cloud of smoke skyward and maintaining his gaze towards the moon, wishing not to compromise your modesty.

you tuck your knees under your chin, shrinking in on yourself, an attempt to look smaller, invisible if possible. you felt so exposed, ready to be preyed on, but it was so late and you were so tired, you hadn't expected anyone else to be awake. at that moment, the moon shines on his face, illuminating his features and it’s like your body reacts on its own. your shoulders, no longer tense, fall relaxed by your sides and your hands turn soft, loosening the grip you had on the hem of your skirt. it’s him.

it’s just him.

you had seen him many times before. you’re suddenly envious of the moon for luring him in with her beauty and holding him captive. you didn't mind him looking at you, you want to be object of his admiration, even if just for once. you want him to look back at you. you only. and then it comes unexpectedly, that feeling of revulsion. you become painfully aware that your skin is too sticky with sweat, the sole of your feet is covered in grim and you feel dirty, so dirty when faced with your desperation, your need. how could you crave such a thing - attention, from a stranger, nonetheless. how could you be so vulgar, yearning for someone’s affection and admitting to being starved. it feels like your belly growling in a room full of people - letting your hunger be known. you’re famished and everybody knows and it’s humiliating.

but it was him - you had seen him on the school’s halls before, so unapologetically gentle in the way he speaks to others, so serene in the way in which he carries himself and so so handsome. you think he’s even more handsome now standing there, sleepless and with his hair down, looking so much less intimidating than usual and within your reach. you see bits of yourself in him - on the bags carved under his eyes from countless nights without sleep, on his tousled hair from tossing and turning endlessly on his bed. when he looks this fragile it makes it so obvious, that despite being one of the strongest, he too can break. he’s not so different from you.

and his hair… it reaches his shoulders. it’s longer than what you expected. you wonder if he’s one to hold on to his past.

you let your eyes linger. he’s still too focused on the night sky to notice you staring anyway. he knows you are. nevertheless, he acts as if he doesn’t, as if the longer you stare at him doesn’t make it harder for him not to stare back at you, to surrender himself to you. even the moon, standing above with its infinite splendor seems to submit to you, shining its light on you as if in jubilation of your own beauty.

and although you try to be discreet, only peeking at him from behind your knees, suguru’s skin feels feverish. its too hot. and it feels even hotter under your gaze. he slips his hand under the white shirt he’s wearing to let the night breeze caress the skin of his stomach that is covered in beads of sweat that run from his chest downwards. he takes one last drag of his cigarrette and when he glances down to stub it under his slippers his eyes catch yours for the first time tonight. except, this time, you do not shy away from him, neither does he.

it is hesitant what you share, like hands brushing together, fingers that yearn to touch yet are too reluctant to entwine. suguru relishes in the innocence of it, welcomes it back into his life even if just for a brief moment. in fact, you make him realize that maybe he never really lost his innocence in the first place. its just been tucked away somewhere in a corner deep inside him. only coming out when it's safe. and its safe here with you. he feels like a boy again. one who doesn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

its hesitant yet thrilling like falling in love for the first time.

suguru chuckles, thinking to himself that this feels nice, oddly intimate.

you were the first one to break, the sound of his laugh pulling you out of your state of reverie and making it hard to handle the tension that grows heavier the longer you stare at each other. you glance up and he follows suit, smiling, thinking that he wouldn’t have withstood the tension for much longer either.

suguru waits and when you look back at him, he leaves with a wave. frozen in place, you let him leave without so much as mouthing a goodbye to him.

it’s the morning after when he sees you for the second time, sitting outside on a bench, hiding from the scorching sun under a pine tree and chewing on a popsicle stick. you’re wearing white again, he has got his black uniform on and no longer under the moonlight’s spell he’s all too aware that you’re worlds apart. still, he is greedy enough to think that even if decay spreads like poison inside him, you taste like salvation. still, he thinks that he wants you.

then you wave at him and its so full of hope. you’re looking at him so expectantly. like you don’t mind that he is rotten and he’s been pondering taking the seat next to you for the past five minutes. you’re turning him to a madman. had he known you for longer, he could’ve been on that bench eating popsicles with you.

for now, however, he’ll sit down with you and ask you for your name. ask you if you managed to get enough rest.

“suguru!” he looks away in the direction of the voice that calls out for him, towards satoru who was running to catch up to him. when he looks back at you, you wave him goodbye, only shyly this time with a hint of disappointment in the way you let your eyes fall to your feet and pretend to play with your fingers. satoru is talking his ear off but suguru's eyes are on you.

sometimes fate disguises itself as coincidence. maybe the chance to get you alone has passed him by.

it’s early september and the weather has cooled down a little. suguru is laughing with his friends and you think you’re fine with it. the seat next to you is vacant but he waves at you with a smile and you figure that despite the distance that seems to stretch itself between the two of you with each passing day, you’re fine with watching him from afar. you’re once again sitting on that same bench and even in shade you still feel his warmth and that's enough.

until the incident happens. the news spread fast. riko then haibara.

spring comes yet again and as the seasons change, so does suguru. he doesn't laugh as much anymore but then, whenever he crosses paths with you, he smiles and there's a tenderness to it that seems to be reserved just for you. you think it’s so unfair. how you didn’t get to meet suguru before sorrow had set itself so deep in the marrow of his bones that it was almost irreversible. but you’re glad to know that despite everything, he remains gentle. its valiant, in a way, that he chooses to stay kind besides having all the reasons not to. and somehow, it gives you hope.

april arrives. his hair has now grown past his shoulders and suguru is contemplating the transience of things in the emptiness of the room he finds himself sitting alone in. suguru thinks its unfair that despite all the death the world keeps spinning. regardless of all the bloodshed, the sun still shines and he hates it. he feels sick. if the world won’t remember then he will. he will mourn and he will let grief be the thing that keeps them alive.

he notices you standing at the door and though he wouldn't blame you if you left given the gloominess that hangs in the air that surrounds him, he finds himself wishing that you’d stay, that you'd sit with him and wouldn't falter like he had done so many times before. he was sure of you, has been for a while now but then there were times when he thinks he is so full of filth he wonders if the space that's left for you inside him is enough. if it is okay to be a little greedy. if it’s fair to want to fit you in such a tiny spot. but then you grab yourself a drink from the vending machine and take the seat next to him as if you’re saying. dont worry, ill make room for myself in you.

it's silent for a while. silence has sort of become the predominant language between you.

“getou, right?” he flinches at the sound of your voice. he realizes this is the first time he has ever heard it. and its so quiet, slightly unsure like suddenly you’re afraid of taking up too much space. and it makes him consider the possibility of tearing himself open just to fit more of you inside - you could never take up enough space.

“suguru.” he corrects you, albeit gently. he wants to hear you say it. his name. “yes.”

you whisper your name in return, still cautious as not to cut through the quietude that had settled between the two of you. as if this moment right here, with him, was so fragile and precious to you that you’re cradling it to your chest, handling it so carefully as not to break it. “i know”

he had asked satoru and regretted it just as fast oh, the first year? heard shes the only one in her class. why’d you care? in that moment satoru must´ve found the answer to his question in his friend's face because his tone changes. dont get too attached, suguru. you know few make it past their first year.

in that moment he had realized something. he had witnessed it himself, how life can be but a dimly lit star in the night sky, its light becoming gradually unperceivable. fragile, fleeting. his time with you isn’t certain. death is a mistress that's always looming around the corner, ever present, always threatening to come out.

he knows he’s still young but he hadn’t met you soon enough. its seems like time is always running out for him. he might be young but he could’ve been younger. could’ve spent more time with you. you could’ve been ten, twelve, fourteen together. he could’ve loved you for longer.

“i hope you don’t think that i'm being nosy.” you mutter to your feet “not too nosy at least. but.” there’s a pause in which you wonder if you imagined everything in your head. that thing that binds you together. but you’ll risk sounding stupid and you will risk rejection because that little sliver of hope inside you tells you that not all has been lost. and although you try to convince yourself you’re doing this with selfless intent you just wish to relish in his warmth again.

“i couldn’t help but notice that lately, you seem to be…” choose your words carefully.

unlike yourself “unwell.” coward.

despite your vague choice of words he is looking at you with wide eyes and you find yourself avoiding his gaze so you won’t back away from it. from saying what you have been wanting to say to him.

“it’s springtime” you find yourself speaking again. maybe you’re talking too much. “the sakura trees look very pretty around this time of the year. but- you should know that already. i don’t think they’ll last much longer, maybe a week or so”

you look so meek fumbling with the loose threads on your shirt that it hurts him. here you stood, presenting your vulnerability to him and placing it in the palm of his hand yet he's just staring at you wondering what to do with it. he had been so quiet and you were starting to doubt yourself. it hits him that he has made you feel this way twice already, although unintentionally. you looked just as defenseless as the night he met you.

he nudges his knee with yours, its playful and emphasized with a smile that shows the crinkles on the corners of his eyes. he had taken what you had given him, he is clutching your gift close to his heart and begging for more. and it fills you with courage.

“i guess what im trying to say is. geto- oh!” you slap your hand over your mouth in a way that is seemingly too dramatic. in a way that is you, he guesses. amidst your outwardly timidness, you allow him a glimpse of you and he just wants more and more. he wants to tell you that you do not need to make yourself smaller to make room for him or his sorrow.

“suguru” you correct yourself. “would you like to go and see the sakura trees with me? maybe it will help you feel better. even if just for a moment” you’re smiling at him and this is the first time you’re looking him directly in the eye since you sat down next to him, there is hope gleaming in your irises and suguru never would’ve thought he could’ve been the one to incite such a beautiful sight.

“im good company and i usually don’t talk this much either so you should be alright.” you giggle showing him a little more of you. but its still not enough. it will never be enough for him.

he looks away from you with a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes as if trying to prevent the sheer adoration that he holds inside him from spilling though it inevitably overflows and manifests itself into a smile so earnest, it’d be the most genuine anyone has seen in a while.

“there has been a lot of silence going on between the two of us, don't you think?” he stares ahead at the empty wall. you had lost enough to it already. you nod from the corner of his eye. “id like to get to know you, if you let me.”

he looks back at you. “i don't mind you talking. i'd like it if you did.”

your eyes are wide with wonder. those are the first few words he has ever spoken to you and he has rendered you speechless. they carry so much honesty, the expression on his face so sincere they’re quick to shut down any doubts or insecurities you might have had.

you had dared to let him peak at the heart that you keep tucked under your sleeve and he wanted to cherish it. he thought he owed it to you to be equally as open, as honest.

“should we go now? he gets up with a hand on his pocket, the other extending itself towards you. "we have a lot to catch up on.”

in the perfect scenario you would’ve wanted to put a little effort into looking pretty. you would’ve put on a dress and maybe a little makeup to impress him. but would that really be the perfect scenario when, right now, he is looking at you with so much adoration that you feel like the prettiest girl he has ever laid eyes on?

you take his hand - you think you might melt into it.

you grab popsicles on the way. strawberry for him. some over complicated combination of flavors that he had already managed to forget, for you. you had made some light hearted joke about his simplistic choice of flavour, however, as you sit under this cherry blossom he can see the grimace that grows on your face aggravate with each bite you take. he had seen it coming.

“do you want to try?” a knowing smile on his face, somewhat teasing when he offers his popsicle to you.

a few strands of hair get in the way when you lean down to lick at the top and his free hand moves to swipe them away from your face. he holds your hair in place to prevent it from escaping again and guides the popsicle to your mouth instead. feeding it to you.

“should’ve gone with strawberry.” you sound so heartbroken that he wants to giggle.

“here, have it” and he’s not teasing you. its genuine, like he’s whispering i love you, whatever’s mine is yours to take.

he shuts down your protests by grabbing the popsicle from in between your pinched fingertips and replacing it with the strawberry one, immediately taking a bite from the popsicle that was once yours to claim it as his. it’s bitter, he thinks, it stings on his tongue. but he won’t tell you that.

you’re picking up the petals that have fallen on the ground next to you and placing them on your lap when out of the corner of his eye, suguru notices a drop of juice that got caught on the corner of your lips and has started to run down your chin. he moves the back of his finger to collect it and then wraps his lips around his digit.

you’re left to stare because you’re dizzy. he makes you so dizzy. you don’t know what to do with yourself. to do with him. you glance towards anything other than him. anything that will ground you.

“you know,” you trail off after a while. your tone soft and eyes still trained somewhere else. he worries that he has come off too strong. “the first thing i noticed about you was your hair”

“yeah?”

“hm, hm…” you look back at him and nod earnestly. he is glad to learn there is no discomfort between you when you sit on your knees and reach forward with both hands to place the petals that you had picked up atop his head. arranging them in a circle, like a halo, you think. not a crown. “… it’s pretty. it suits you”

pretty. it takes him a while to gather his words. you’re so close and smell so heavenly. “i thought you were pretty the first time i saw you” he confesses with a whisper.

it takes you even longer to collect yourself. because once again, you're at a loss for words. you busy yourself with the task at hand. the halo. fit for someone with a heart as good as his.

“i mean it.” you recoil for a moment to meet his eyes and get your message across. “dont ever cut it!” you sound so demanding. like it’d hurt your feelings if he were to contradict your wishes.

“i won’t. it helps me remember”

your smile morphs into a frown on your face and you bring your hands to your lap. he misses you on him already.

“you’re holding on to grief, suguru.”

if he doesn't, who will? who will remember them? gojo has already seemed to move on from it, nanami is gone. his grief is the only thing keeping them alive. even if just in memory.

“i guess i am”

he doesn’t miss the way you avoid looking at him. you’re looking at your hands folded on your lap and he wishes he knew what it is that you’re feeling. pity or concern?

“maybe you could take a little of the weight off”

“thought you didn’t want me to cut it”

“and i didn’t. but surely carrying the weight of all those curses on you and then another must be exhausting, suguru.” your tone raises just slightly, barely enough to be noticeable.

however, suguru notices and he wants you to be mad at him. he wants you to scream if you will because he knows, that right now, he couldn’t love you the way he thinks you deserve to be loved. you deserve a love that is abudant, steady and kind and suguru, with all his troubles and a heart that has grown so terribly worn out, thinks he has barely any love left to give.

but there is something that stirs in his stomach at the thought of somebody else loving you. he wants to be the one to teach you what love feels like. what it should feel like. he wants to prove himself worthy of loving you. he'd love you better than anyone else ever could. he'd treat you so right. you wouldnt have to wake up a single day in your life and doubt whether he still loves you. because he does and he doesnt think he'll ever stop.

“i'll let you trim the ends”

you take him to your room. you’re pacing around tidying the place, moving objects from one place to another and apologizing for the mess but to him, the clutter isn’t just clutter it’s pieces of you scattered everywhere and when he finds himself amongst it, amongst your belongings in their disorderly disposition he, too, feels like he belongs here, belongs to you. he wants to tell you he doesn’t mind he wants to thank you instead for allowing him to see the most intimate parts of you.

but before he can manifest himself, you hush him into your bathroom while you finish putting things away. you join him shortly after and he watches you, from the toilet seat, searching the cabinets for your scissors while mumbling about how he doesn’t have to be nervous, you have cut your hair by yourself many times before. that he could trust you. but he does, and it goes beyond just giving him a haircut. you’re still rummaging through the drawers and suguru smiles to himself. he pretends he didn’t just meet you today (technically) and that this is what it feels like to share a home with you.

“found it!” he spreads his legs that are a bit too big to fit in your tiny bathroom so you can stand in between them. he takes up so much of the space and it's cramped enough that you have to scoot your way through. you laugh at it together.

“ready?” you’re more serious now. you understand he is trusting you with a lot here — his heart.

suguru’s nod doesn’t carry much certainty but he is not nervous, maybe just nostalgic. but he doesn’t regret it, not when you’re so careful even when tearing him open to look at what’s inside, disposing of what is rotten and lodging yourself in the cavity of his chest where his heart dwells. your hands are so soft, so tender as they weave through his hair. you’re handling him with so much care, so much esteem.

he should’ve felt guilty. he thought it’d feel wrong. but it didn’t. letting go of his past meant welcoming you into his future.

“done.” you finish and he expects you to move so he can look himself in the mirror but there is a certain hesitance in you, in the way in which you purse your lips into a tight line, contemplating something. maybe you messed up the haircut. then you bend down and kiss the corner of his lips, pulling away in a blink of an eye. “there.” thank you for letting me in, suguru.

you look at him apprehensively. you’re nervous wondering if you had stepped too far. but you didn’t step even close to where he wanted you. “come.”

he weaves all of his ten fingers with yours, he pulls you down and he kisses you. it's warm and its gentle. it’s so very him. but it is also hungry. like hes trying to fit all the kisses of a lifetime into this one kiss right here. he’s greedy, he’d been a fair man once but then you came along and made him so greedy. like the hole in his stomach has no end and he’s insatiable. he’d take more and then some until he is so full of you he could burst — you can take as many space as you want, can make a home in him if you wish to.

he takes and keeps on taking, until he has to pull away or he might devour you.

“was that okay?” he is cradling your face in the palms of his hands, was it too much?

“it was good” you’re breathless. “very good.”

“it was good for me too” he chuckles and brings your forehead to rest against his. to be close. you shut your eyes to try to come down from the high, focusing on breathing him in while he breathes you out. “so pretty.” he whispers agaisnt your lashes, his lips kissing your eyelids.

“god, what do i do with you” his hands move to hug your waist and he buries his face in your stomach. he needs to be closer, though being close isn’t enough when he just wants to merge into you. to make a dwelling place in your bones. you tangle your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp and it feels like home already.

“i want to be with you, suguru” you tug gently on the hair on the nape of his neck to make him look up at you. you then lower your tone, whispering your next words into the air as if you were too scared to say them. you belonged to him but was it too much to ask him to belong to you? “i want you.”

he kisses up the expanse of your forearm. “you have me, baby. you had me from the moment i saw you.”

#geto x reader #getou x reader #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #geto suguru fluff #geto fanfic #.mine #geto

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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I can't believe that this tiny looking 1870 shotgun house in New Orleans, LA is a 3 family tri-plex. It has a total of 4bds, 3ba, and the price is $589K.

This would be the 1st unit. The home has been renovated into 3 separate apts., but they did leave some elements of the original architecture like the floor and the fireplace in this room.

This does look like a cute older shotgun home.

There's a new eat-in kitchen with so many cabinets. This kitchen is a simple white with wood countertops.

This bedroom is large enough for a canopy bed without looking crowded.

And, there's also an original brick fireplace. With 4 total bds., there are two 1bd. apts. and one 2bd.

Nice new bath.

The double doors on the side of the house are the entrance to the 2nd unit and it's also a 1bd. apt.

When you enter, the cute small blue kitchen is on the left.

The is the living room with a lovely fireplace painted white.

The bd. has a fireplace and it's pretty large for a shotgun house.

And, it has a renovated, small 3pc. bath.

The back doors, furthermost down and the last doors on the side of the house, are the entrance to the 3rd and largest apt. Then entrance isn't that attractive b/c the laundry is right there.

But, this is a lovely living room. It has a large fireplace with a decorative mantel.

The kitchen is cute. It has an exposed brick fireplace wall, white cabinets and wood counters.

The reason that this apt. is the largest is b/c it also includes the 2nd fl.

Bathroom #1 is a little narrow, but it opens up a little toward the back.

It has a new toilet and sink.

Bd. #1 is a cute little room with a nice fireplace.

Of the 2 bds, this is the primary. It has an original fireplace too.

This unit has access to the 2nd fl. narrow wraparound porch.

The largest unit has its own yard, but the entire yard alongside the house is in need of a cleanup and new landscaping.

And, this is the yard for the middle unit. The house is in a kind of neglected shape, but it's cute.

The front apt. also has a side door entrance and it opens out to the first yard that is allotted to that particular unit. It has a garden and is the nicest out of the three.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2704-Burgundy-St-New-Orleans-LA-70117/73801409_zpid/

#new orleans homes #NOLA homes #shotgun houses #house tours #houses #home tour

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compulsoryroyalty · 2 years ago

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“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just gotten the go-ahead, so it looks like our finals can now proceed between this plucky little pugilist possum, and the undefeated champion of the Canopy’s concrete colosseum, “The one. “The only! “HRONK!!! “BORIS THE POMPABOAR!!!!”

She never liked how cocky this one was, if she’ll be honest.

Boris always had a certain air to him, a certain je ne sais quoi that made Kit feel frustrated every time he went into that arena.

When his win rate steadily went up and up, it only fueled him further--it was like a Mobius Strip of consequences. It felt like there would never be anyone who cared enough to actually take him down.

Sure, she could think of a couple people who actually could--Valente, Friedrich, one of her guards on a good day--but nobody actually wanted to put the effort in to do it! Always too busy with a plethora of other things--of which, she didn’t blame them for this, not at all. It was just slightly frustrating, having to cut out her favorite thing to watch because of some smug jerk-off who ruined the whole thing!

What was the point of watching if fate already told the tale?

Of course, this was all until that opossum came about.

Poppy Odeletta Possum.

What an interesting specimen, really. She’s never seen anyone so strong before, someone who looks like they could easily break a house in half with their pinky toe. It helped that she looked really nice as well.

Surely, if anyone were to defeat Boris, it would be the opossum. She would easily go against the odds and win, Kit knows it for sure.

In fact, here she goes right now, curling up her tail and launching herself at her foe!

POW!!!

The hit landed cleanly on the giant boar’s stomach, and...!

...

He didn’t move.

Oh bother.

This fight was going to be a whole lot harder for Poppy than she expected, wasn’t it?

---

OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW.

DIDELPHI DAMN IT WHAT THE CHUCK--OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!

She looked up at the, now very menacing boar, and winced.

“H-How did you...?”

“Oh, didn’t you hear?”

He lifted up his head, throwing a real hard punch straight at the opossum!

“FLIP!!!”

A punch she barely dodged.

“Around these parts, “I’m a real S U P E R S T A R ! ! !”

And with that declaration, he grew ever larger.

And larger.

Oh slip, she really messed up this time, didn’t she...?

WELP.

GUESS IT’S TIME TO RUN.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

---

That is a rather powerful Lucky Star.

Again, part of the reason why she doesn’t like him.

How fair was it really that one man’s own confidence decided an entire match? And with the entire crowd vehemently cheering against the opossum, it felt as if this was an open and shut case!

And she hated that! It was bull-hockey!!!

In what world was any of this fair???

S M A S H ! ! !

That poor opossum was crushed in between his two hooves.

She sighed.

A shame, really. So much for changing up the status quo. So much for her ambassador.

Maybe Arthur has a recommendation--

“Whatever Poppy was trying to goad him into doing, it seems to have backfirrrred rather badly--”

“WOAH WOAH WAIT A MINUTE!!!! LOOK AT THAT!!!!!!”

“Well I’ll be damned.

“The opossum still stands!!!”

It looked like she was trembling terribly, however. Who knows how long she can keep this up?

---

“WHAT?!?!?! “THAT SHOULD’VE BROKEN EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY!!!!”

“Hey, hey now! Don’t just go assuming every bone in my body is as delicate as my hand’s.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

SHE IS IN SO MUCH FLIPPING PAIN RIGHT NOW!!!!!

THIS STUPID GAMBIT BETTER WORK DAMN IT!!!!

“Now you, on the other hand...~”

And he looked down at his hands--er, hooves, actually, noticing just how cracked they are.

She couldn’t help but snicker to herself as he started to despair about his appendages.

“Looks like I hurt your ego, too! “And just like a balloon, one faulty seam’s all it takes to let all of your hot air out~!!!”

“You.“

Wait, huh?

“Cracked.”

That... that doesn’t sound like a balloon deflating.

“My.”

Maybe it’s... just a fluke? Like, he’ll start getting smaller and more manageable any secon--

“HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

---

HOLY--

THE ARENA DOESN’T HAVE MICROPHONES--SHE SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HEAR THAT FROM WHERE SHE IS!!!

“I’M GONNA SMACK YOU ALL THE WAY TO SKYHENGE!!!”

And the opossum started to dodge and weave between this monster’s attacks, the arena getting viciously dented all of the while.

He has gotten... impossibly large.

She was not aware that his Lucky Star also worked with anger.

It was terrifying, to say the least.

“I’d sure hate to be Miss O’Possum right about now!!!”

Yeah, no kidding.

“What do you think Poppy’s chances of success are now, Friedrich?”

“She would need a miracle to win this bout, your highness.”

Oh Vulpis, give her strength--

“THIS IS IT, POSSUM!!! HERE COMES THE GRAND FINAL--

“eh???”

“I don’t believe it!!! Is that--”

“...Ribbitina from Funzie Frogo? “I think I remember babysitting Twee with that show in the background.” Snickered, “I remember Della being her favorite character!

“Oh that’s really kind of cute! Isn’t it, Friedrich?”

“Downright adorable, your majesty.”

And, seemingly, the boar started to shrink. Steam coated the entire arena, making anything and everything impossible to view. Drat!

She wanted to see how this ended. She wanted to see who would win!

Oh well. The announcers will say who won soon enough.

#the kingdom’s crown // kit darling #didelphi's child // poppy o'possum #right hand man // friedrich zarigueya #the superstar champion // boris pompaboar #citizens of flora // ic #a day in the life // drabbles #odeletta's grand entrance // clash in the canopy

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