#evergreen traffic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mead-iocre · 2 months ago

Text

La Castanyada | Alexia Putellas x Reader

synopsis: alexia invites you to meet her extended family

warnings: it's a longgggg one

wc: 7.2k words

The late autumn sunlight filters through the mildly tinted windows, casting shadows that danced across your face. You welcome it, deciding to savour whatever little warmth is left before the arrival of the cold in the upcoming months. The only sound coming from inside the car was the mild buzz of the engine, and the low hum of Alexia’s favourite radio station reporting the latest sports news. The car smells of herbarium berries thanks to the overpriced car perfume you purchased a few months ago. Cool notes of fresh-picked blackcurrant berries mingle with flowery rose accents prick your nose. You mentally remind yourself to buy another car diffuser, but maybe not one tagged with a fancy label like this one.

You gaze out the window to a serene scene of fallen leaves and autumnal charm. You had never been so far away from the city before. The journey was worth it though, full of new sights and sounds; with patchwork of amber and rust-coloured trees, charming villages, and vineyards against backdrops of evergreen pines. As you drive further, you past towns surrounded by vibrant landscape of rolling hills and dense forest. Living in the city for so long made you realise just how you missed being around the natural wonders of the world. The car stops at a red light and you glance over at the rusted cobbled pavement, watching as a gust of wind sends a pile of leaves to swirl and dance in the air.

The realisation that you were nearing your destination made your palms sweat and your heart race. Alexia was taking you to meet the rest of her clan. Today, you will officially be meeting her extended family. Alexia’s grandparents had invited everyone to stay at their estate, a home that Alexia had told you countless of stories about. Stories of mornings that start with churros on the breakfast table; Sunday lunches on a long oak table, beautifully set with fine china and crystal glasses; and playing hide and seek with her cousins around the family vineyard until the sun set.

A warm palm clasping your knee startles you out of your daydreams. When you turn your head, warm hazel eyes meet yours. “Cómo te sientes? You okay, amor?”

You hum, nodding your head, placing your hand above hers. She slows down as the car approaches traffic, using the opportunity to focus her attention back to you. You watch the way her eyes study your face, probably looking for any sign that you might be holding back from saying what you were really feeling. She entwines your fingers together before tugging it towards her lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“Are you…ansioso?-- nervous?” She asks, focusing her attention back on the road now that the stoplight has turned green. She keeps one hand on the steering wheel, her other hand entwined with your own.

“Maybe a little bit” You admit. You had met Alexia’s mother and her younger sister, Alba before and that went well. In fact, it went so well it turned into regular visits from her mother and weekly brunches with her sister. But this time it was different, not only was Alexia's mother and sister not due to arrive until tomorrow, you were going to be meeting her grandparents. She spoke so highly about them all the time. Her voice would soften and her eyes would glimmer every time she recalled stories about her childhood growing up in her grandparent’s home. If they didn’t like you, you fear Alexia might just leave you.

“Meeting your whole family, it’s a lot. What if they don't like me?”

Alexia shot you an incredulous look, as if the mere thought was unfathomable. “Impossible.” She proclaimed, so confident, so assured. “They’re going to love you. Besides, mi abuela has already seen your picture a hundred times. She thinks you're ‘muy guapa’.”

Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, but a picture is different from meeting in person.”

She lifted your entwined hands, giving the back of your hand another kiss. “Mi amor, pictures do not do you justice. They’re not expecting perfection. Just be yourself. They are not scary, I promise.”

That helped, slightly. You sighed, looking out the window as the olive trees and vineyards passed by. “I just hope my Spanish doesn’t embarrass me…”

“Your Spanish is great!” Alexia exclaimed, squeezing your hand. Along with weekly Spanish online classes with a tutor, you encouraged Alexia to speak to you in spanish regularly so you can pick up the language quicker. “But if you want to speak English, that is fine too. I will help you. No te preocupes”

You wrap your other hand around her arm, picking at the soft cashmere coat she was wearing with your fingers. You had bought her this coat, convinced she would look really good in it as soon as you saw it in the store. You were right.

"What if I mess it up?"

“You cannot ‘mess it up’” The last bit was said accompanied by finger quotations. She briefly detangles her fingers from yours to make finger quotes in the air, before promptly entwining them again. Alexia’s voice was soft, but full of conviction. Her hazel eyes were earnest, almost pleading with you to trust her word. “Just be yourself. You will be fine.”

You wanted to believe her. You really did. But the nerves didn’t go away. Instead, they settled deeper, twisting into a tight ball in your stomach. You had never met your partner’s family before, not like this. This wasn’t just dinner with their parents. This was Alexia’s whole extended family, in a different country, in a language that you weren't fluent in.

Looking out of the window, you tried to focus on anything but your growing anxiety. You caught a glimpse of an older couple seated outside a cafe, a group of children chasing a ball down the narrow street and a man leaning against his bicycle, deep in conversation with a shopkeeper outside of a flower store. The scene was peaceful, unhurried, like time itself had slowed down for everyone else but you.

“I’m just… worried,” You finally admitted, your voice small and slightly shaky. You hated feeling this way, not being in control, not knowing what could happen next. “I don’t want to let you down.”

All of a sudden, Alexia swerved and pulled the car to a stop by a street lined with rows of charming little shops. She turned fully to face you, her eyes soft and understanding. “Amor, look at me.”

Rather reluctantly, you met her gaze.

“You could never let me down. Eres mi todo and my family knows, ” Alexia's words were steady, filled with the kind of reassurance that you desperately needed. “And if anyone has a problem with that, they will have to fight me.”

You chuckled weakly, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am.” She smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Te quiero mucho. And that’s all that matters.”

Her eyes scan your face, probably sensing your lingering doubts. She cups your face, her palm warm against your cheek. She brings your face closer to hers. “Eres perfecta,”

Pretty hazel eyes meet yours, all love and affection. She leans in to kiss you, her lips soft and plump against yours. Pulling away slightly, just a breath of distance between the two of you, before she murmurs. Her voice low and hushed , “You know what that means, Si?”

You hum, your eyes fluttering closed, still partly consumed by her kiss. Of course you knew what that phrase means, it was one of the first Spanish phrases she ever translated for you. You tilt your head towards her, leaning into her space, greedy for another kiss.

“Mmhmm. Perfect.” She mumbles in english, her tone is teasing, enunciating the word with perfect pronunciation. Although it is slightly jumbled by your lips being pressed against hers again. She smiles against your lips, no doubt feeling your desperation. Your yearning.

Her hand tilts your face to the side, fingers pressingly lightly against your neck, urging you to succumb to her lead completely. Like all she wants you to do is just close your eyes, kiss her back, and she will handle the rest.

Eventually she starts to pull away, but not before she leaves a teasing bite to your bottom lip, a cocky smile perched on her lips at the sight of the dazed look on your face. You open your eyes half heartedly, your gaze immediately zeroing in on her plump bottom lip still wet from your kiss. “Later” She promises.

And Alexia always keeps her promises.

She tucks your hair behind your ear and squeezes your knee as she leans back into her seat. Both of her hands back on the wheel. “Vale. We’ve still have some driving to do.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The countryside was a picturesque scene of rolling hills, vineyards that span miles and miles, and tall, slender cypress trees. The leaves had begun their slow descent, carpeting the roads and pavements in hues of amber, crimson, and goldenrod, creating a soft crunch beneath the tires. The scent of earth and woodsmoke wafts in through the slightly cracked window. You noticed it earlier, but it’s a lot stronger now. As the car navigates the winding roads, you catch glimpses of traditional stone houses, with their windows framed with charming flower pots that still hold the last few blooms of summer.

As you wound deeper into the heart of Catalonia, the landscape became more secluded. The occasional farmhouse dotted the hillsides, their red-tiled roofs peeking through the autumn foliage, and their silhouettes softened by the setting sun.

And then, as the car rounded the final bend, the mediaeval town of Peratallada came into view. Peratallada with its ancient stone walls and narrow cobblestone streets. The town was full of charm, its streets flanked by ivy-clad beige and gold stone, the weathered facades only adding to it's history.

Eventually, Alexia slowed the car down, allowing you to take in the new surroundings. You take out your phone, snapping a few pictures of the pretty sights. The cobblestone streets were narrow, twisting through archways and past old stone fountains. Vines clung to the walls, leaves now tinged with the colours of autumn, while small terracotta pots with trailing ivy and late-blooming flowers adorned the windowsills of homeowners. Every corner and alley seemed to hold a secret passage—a hidden courtyard, a glimpse of a garden, and even a cosy café where a few villagers sat outside, sipping wine and chatting quietly.

The smell of roasting chestnuts filled the air, carried by the breeze from vendors setting up stalls in the main square for the evening’s festivities. The town was quiet, peaceful, but you can see preparations are being made for the upcoming La Castanyada festival.

As you leave the narrow streets behind, the road opens up, leading you deeper into the countryside. The car continues to meander through the occasional quaint shop-fronts and cobblestone paths until the road begins to slope upward. You sit straighter in your seat.

The soft crunch of gravel under the tires announced your approach to Alexia's family estate, hidden behind tall stone walls and ancient oaks. Gradually, the estate came into view, as the road curved around a hillside, revealing tall gates surrounding the property. You had never seen anything like it.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise as the large dark, wooden gates swung open automatically just as the car pulled up. The car drives through and you spot what looks to be some sort of wooden sign announcing the estate's name, beautifully carved in dark wood. It was like Disneyland.

You knew Alexia came from a well off family, but you were definitely not expecting a family-that-has-a-fancy-sign-outside-of-their-gated-estate kind of rich.

Alexia turns to you, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were bright with excitement, she was practically buzzing in her seat. This was the most excited and awake you have seen her in the last hour of the drive.

She points to your window. “This is my family's vineyard”

You lean forward and sure enough there was a vineyard. The estate was perched high on a hill, offering a panormaic view of the property. The vineyard itself looked like something out of a painting, the grapevines, heavy with the last of the season’s fruit, stood in neat rows, aligned against the backdrop of rolling hills. Beyond the vineyards, the estate was flanked by tall trees offering privacy from the rest of the world.

“Wow, this place is beautiful,” You were in complete awe at the scenery.

Alexia's cheeks flushed with warmth. She quickly removed her green cap, brushing out her hair. “My grandparents have lived here for years."

The car continued to drive on. Soon enough an impressive structure came into view. The house--mansion(?) itself was breathtaking— a lavish stone manor with its ivy-covered walls, grand arched windows, and terracotta roofs. Even though Alexia had prepared you for her grandparents’ “big house”, nothing compared to the real thing.

“We’re here,” Alexia said softly, pulling the car to a stop at the front of the estate. She shut off the engine and unbuckled her seatbelt. She then turned to you and did the same, unbuckling your seatbelt for you out of habit.

As you both stepped out of the car, the cool autumn air enveloped you completely, crisp but not biting. You just stared for a moment, your breath catching as you took it all in. The courtyard was paved with smooth stones, lined with tall, iron lanterns leading towards the grand entrance of the house. The doors, massive and intricately carved, stood closed. Almost intimidatingly.

“This is your grandparents' place?” You asked, still in awe. Who did you know had multiple 2ft tall cast stone vases lined up by the entrance of their homes. No one-- at least until now.

“It’s home.” She took your hand, guiding you toward the entrance.

You felt a flutter of nerves in your belly. You had been excited about the trip initially, but now that they were here, the reality of it all weighed on her.

Would they like you? Would they understand your broken Spanish?

Before Alexia could reach for the doorbell, one of the doors opened.

Alexia’s grandmother, Abuela Carmen, was the first to greet you at the door, her face lighting up with a warm smile. Her silver hair was pulled into a loose bun, and her dark eyes twinkled as she wrapped her granddaughter in a tight embrace before turning to you.

“And you must be Alexia's girl,” she said in English, her accent thick yet soft. She took your hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. You introduced yourself and she repeated your name back to you with such fondness, as if she had known you your whole life. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you. Gracias" You replied, your nerves easing as Alexia's grandmother pulled you in for a hug. Alexia was about to say something about the luggage in the trunk, but her grandmother just flapped her hands away dismissively, instead ushering you both further inside her home.

The house was as grand inside as it was outside. The foyer welcomed you inside, its walls lined with decor and tall paintings. Towards the end of the foyer you could see an expansive living room that you swear is bigger than your entire apartment. A large fireplace dominated the room, its flames reflecting against dark wood beams. Terracotta tiles stretched across the floor, complemented nicely by the intricately patterned rugs.

The walls were painted in soft, creamy tones, adorned with vibrant mosaic tiles. Large arched windows lined the walls, with the wooden shutters thrown open to let in the last rays of the setting sun, bathing the room in a golden glow. The windows framed picturesque views of the vineyard and rolling hills beyond. You were still in awe.

Exposed wooden beams crisscrossed the high ceilings, while wrought-iron chandeliers hung gracefully, the warm light casting shadows across the room. Plush sofas and armchairs upholstered in rich fabrics, blend with the dark wooden tables and cabinets. The sofas were lightly dented and the rugs weren't perfectly brushed out. You could tell that each piece in this room was meticulously chosen with the purpose of making this house a home.

"Show our guest around the sala, Alexia. Then come to the kitchen for some merienda after" Abuela Carmela practically orders her granddaughter. With you, she just sends you a quick wink before nudging the both of you away as she saunters over to where you assume the kitchen is. It’s hard to tell with a house as big as this.

Alexia leads you through the main hall, where a large stone fireplace crackled with a burning fire. Above the mantel, an intricately carved wooden mantelpiece held an array of family photos, a reflection of the generations that had lived and loved in this house.

“We gather in this house every year,” Alexia said, her voice filled with affection. "It's my favourite time of year. It's the only time I get to see all of my family in one place".

Alexia waves you over, closer. You stand on your tiptoes as she points out herself and her sister in the photos, whispering stories of her childhood for every single one. The smile that lights up her face as she tells her stories is infectious, like she was experiencing every happy memory all over again. Stories of bike rides around the town, muddy boots around the vineyard, and summers spent sunbathing at Poseidon Calella beach.

She leads you into the next room, your hand in hers the entire time. The dining room was an expansive room with a long, polished wooden table perfectly set for the occasion.

"Wow. This is the fanciest table setting I have ever seen..." The table was adorned with what looked like hand-painted ceramic plates and bowls, surrounded by intricate silver cutlery and crystal glasses that sparkled in the candlelight. The centrepiece was a beautiful arrangement of autumn leaves, chestnuts, and candles.

"Oh no, this is not where we will be eating," Alexia tugs your hand, leading you around the fancy dinner table and towards a set of French glass doors framed by lush cerulean curtains. She points outside.

"There is where we will be eating"

An expansive terrace has been transformed into a breathtaking outdoor dining space. Under the pergola draped with twinkling lights, a long wooden table stood as the focal point of the evening’s festivities. From where you were standing, you could see hints of colourful glassware, candles, ornate table centrepieces, and neatly folded napkins.

You turn to face Alexia, playfully mouthing a "holy shit" -- one of the first English phrases she picked up quickly-- to which she just rolls her eyes at you. But you can see the corner of her mouth tugging upwards.

"Vale. Let's go to the kitchen. My abuela is probably waiting"

As Alexia led you into the kitchen, you marvelled at the sights before you. The kitchen was any chef’s dream. The floor was laid with terracotta tiles which were noticeably worn smooth by generations of footsteps. You could tell the family spent a lot of time inside this part of their home.

Stone countertops, big windows, wooden cabinets, and a large farmhouse sink. Stainless steel pots and pans hung from a wrought-iron rack above the island, and the glass cabinets were filled with an array of colourful ceramics. Alexia’s stories of how her grandma would cook her infamous Gazpacho whenever she was sick filled your head at the sight of a large, stone fireplace by the corner.

There was a smaller table, placed near the fireplace, looking to be made from reclaimed barn wood. It was surrounded by mismatched chairs, their cushions upholstered in colourful, patterned fabrics. The table was set with a simpler table setting compared to the one in the dining room and the terrace. You could imagine the family using this smaller table whenever they are rushing in the morning and only need to stop for a quick breakfast before school or work.

Alexia's grandmother was busy at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled divine. She greeted you both with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are! Just in time to help,” she said, clapping her hands.

Alexia's grandfather, Abuelo Miguel, appeared carrying a tray piled high with steaming chestnuts. His face, weathered with age, split into a grin as he saw Alexia. “Ah, mi nieta,” he said, his deep voice warm with affection. He set the tray down before giving Alexia a big hug. The kind of hug only a beloved grandfather can give.

Then, turning to you, he gave you a welcoming nod and extended his hand. “And you must be the woman we have all heard so much about.”

Taking his welcome, you smiled back– albeit a bit awkwardly, but the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiled at you put your nerves at ease.

"Vale. Keep doing what you were doing" He gestured playfully to the controlled mess around the kitchen, making you all laugh. There were dishes and casseroles everywhere, stuff cooking on the stove and oven. No counter space was left unused.

“Chestnuts are always the centrepiece,” Alexia whispered to you, pointing about the growing pile on the kitchen island. “Traditions say they were eaten back in the day to keep warm during the colder months. These days, we eat them to remember the souls of the departed.”

You watched as Alexia's grandparents moved with an easy grace, tending to the chestnuts roasting in the open hearth. Abuela Carmen was masterful, her wrinkled hands moving deftly as she placed a fresh batch of chestnuts into the iron skillet over the flames. She gave them a gentle toss, and the warm, nutty scent wafted through the air. You swear your stomach grumbled at the smells alone.

You and Alexia got stuck in, plating dishes and gathering the cutlery. Abuela Carmen called you over to watch and observe her roast the chestnuts and Abuelo Miguel showed you how to make authentic Sangria. As the final preparations were completed, you and Alexia helped carry the food out to the terrace. After a few back and fourths, you make your last trip to the terrace carrying a pitcher of the Sangria that you had made. You place it in the corner of the table, stepping back to admire the setting.

The table was made from rich, dark wood. It was long enough to accommodate the entire extended family, with matching sturdy chairs situated on each side. The natural grain of the wood is complemented by a table runner that runs down its length—a delicate fabric adorned with intricate patterns in shades of gold, dark blue, and deep red.

"Barcelona colours. You see?" Alexia points out with a wink as she passes you to put down a platter of cured meats. You roll your eyes at her. You can take the woman out of Barcelona, but you can’t take Barcelona out of the woman.

Each place setting thoughtfully arranged, with ceramic plates, polished silver cutlery, and neatly folded deep burgundy linen napkins held together with rustic twine and a sprig of fresh rosemary. Above each plate were crystal glasses ready to be filled with the finest wines-- to which Alexia pointed out to you that there were separate glasses for red and white wine. You did not know that beforehand.

An arrangement of autumn leaves in hues of gold, orange, and crimson was interspersed with clusters of chestnuts, pomegranates, and small gourds. Among the foliage, candles in glass holders flickered softly, their flames bouncing off of wine glasses. Along the table were small bowls filled with olives, marinated in garlic and herbs, and plates of freshly baked bread, still warm from the oven. Ceramic bowls filled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar sat within easy reach.

Personalised name cards, handwritten on small pieces of parchment, were placed at each setting. You round the table, eyeing each name card, and pausing when you see one addressed to you. Yours was next to Alexia's, handwritten in beautiful calligraphy just like the rest of the family.

Soon your ears pick up on the muted sound of gravel crunching under tires. One by one, cars pulled up to the grand estate, and the echoes of greetings pierced through the silence. You take a deep breath, looking down at your outfit to make sure you didn't have any balsamic stains on your cardigan or any suspicious crumbs on your trousers.

The first to arrive were Alexia's uncle Javier and his wife, Elena, along with their three children. Javier, a tall man with a warm smile, embraced you with a hug. Maria, a graceful woman with kind eyes, kissed you on both cheeks, her greeting rolling off her tongue easily. She had a nice voice, you thought to yourself, but that could just be the nerves forcing you to focus on anything but your growing anxiety.

The children, two boys and a girl, darted past their parents, racing each other to check out the table and all the colourful decorations.

“Alexia, it’s been too long!” Javier exclaimed, shrugging off his blazer and draping it over his chair. He turns to you. “And I'm glad you finally brought your girl home. Welcome to the family, hija.”

Next came Tia Isabel, Elena’s great-aunt, a sprightly woman in her seventies. She arrived with her husband, Roberto, and their son, Carlos. Isabel, wearing a vibrant yellow shawl greeted everyone with enthusiastic hugs and kisses-- including you. In fact, you swear she gave you an extra tight squeeze when she came to hug you.

Soon after a car pulled up with Alexia's cousins, Maritza and Sofia. Their partners trail behind them with their bags and bottles of wine. Maritza comes strutting onto the terrace, her high-heel shoes click clacking, announcing her arrival. She greets you, complimenting your cardigan, and practically steals you away from Alexia to chat. She leads you to the table, sneakily swapping the name card to your left with her own so you can sit together and talk more.

Meanwhile Sofia, who Alexia mentioned is an artist, carried a canvas bag filled with small gifts she had made for the family. After yelling her greetings to everyone, she goes straight to the table and starts picking out wrapped objects from her bag, placing them by the corresponding name card. Everyone immediately goes to open their presents, revealing handmade pottery. There were mugs, bowls, and small plates, each glazed in vibrant colours and decorated with unique patterns and designs. She takes out the last one and walks over to you, holding it out. "This one's for you. Alexia said you love the colour pink and anything with cherries on it"

You stand up, thanking her and unwrap your present. You start to apologise for not having brought anything for her in exchange, but she just waves your apologies away, urging you to focus on unwrapping your gift instead. Underneath the wrapping paper revealed a ceramic white mug with red cherries all over, sweet and dainty. Perfect for your daily cups of coffee. "Wow. This is beautiful. Thank you, Sofia"

Sofia smiles proudly, accepting the shouts of praise directed at her from the rest of the family as well. She bows exaggeratedly before she threatens everyone that they must use their gifts or else.

As the last few family members continued to arrive, the atmosphere grew even more festive. From your view from above, the courtyard was abuzz with activity—children playing tag around the lanterns, and adults catching up, their hands already occupied with their beverage of choice or nibbling on some tapas.

Soon enough Abuela Carmen called everyone to come to the table. It was time to eat. Everyone gathered around, their faces lit by the warm, golden light. The terrace offered a breathtaking view of the vineyard below, the rows of vines now bathed in the silvery light of the moon.

“Come, come, sit,” Abuela Carmen urged, gesturing for you to take your seat. You take your place, feeling Alexia slide into her seat right next to you. She takes her napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across her lap. You follow suit. “I hope this is enough food for your first La Castanyada.”

Alexia chuckles from beside you. She gestures at the feast before you. "It's more than enough, Abuela. Te lo juro"

"Muy bien. Good. I want your first La Castanyada to be perfect" Aubela Carmen looks down at you fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when a light breeze blows by. She gives your shoulder one last squeeze before she walks over to her own place by the head of the table.

You had heard of the Catalan tradition before. Alexia had not only explained it to you countless times before, but you also took the liberty in doing some research before coming. According to your research, La Castanyada is a celebration held in late autumn to honour the dead. The tradition is rooted in the whole family coming together to enjoy seasonal treats like roasted chestnuts and tiny almond cakes.

Between courses, music filled the air. Abuelo Miguel strummed his guitar, leading the family in traditional Catalan songs. Alexia's cousins joined in with their singing, encouraging everyone else to clap and sing. Even the children took turns dancing and performing.

The table was a feast for the gods. At the center of the table, a large platter showcased roasted vegetables fresh from the estate’s garden. Beside it sat a carved wooden bowl overflowing with mixed greens—arugula, radicchio, and delicate frisée—tossed lightly in a vinaigrette of lemon, olive oil, and herbs.

A large paella pan sat ready at one end of the table, brimming with golden saffron-infused rice. It was piled on with prawns, mussels, and pieces of chicken, with slices of chorizo nestled among the rice. Fresh sprigs of parsley were scattered over the top, and lemon wedges lined the edges. Next to the paella, a warm loaf of crusty artisan bread sat on a wooden board. Nearby was a selection of spreads and dips; including a rich, roasted red pepper romesco, and creamy whipped feta with herbs.

Right in front of your plate sat a dish of patatas bravas. The fried potato cubes were smothered in a spicy tomato sauce and drizzled with a swirl of garlicky aioli. Plates of jamón ibérico were carefully fanned out beside it, the thin, ruby-red slices almost translucent. The seafood continued with grilled octopus, charred lightly at the edges and served on a bed of roasted chickpeas and fennel, dressed in a lemon and caper sauce.

Abuela Carmela lifted her glass, her eyes sparkling with affection as she looked around at her family. “To La Castanyada,” she began, her voice warm and steady. “To our loved ones, present and remembered, and to the blessings of family.”

Everyone echoed her toast, glasses clinking, blending with the crackle of the fire nearby. With that, the meal began. You picked up one of the roasted chestnuts, still warm from the cazuela. You took a tentative bite, and immediately, a soft sweetness spread over your tongue. The texture was velvety, almost creamy. You did not know chestnuts could taste like this.

Alexia watched you chew, your face screwed up in thought. When you turned to her with a big smile on your face, she subconsciously released the breath she was holding. While you were busy scooping another mouthful of the chestnuts, Alexia secretly raised a thumbs up at her abuela. Abuela Carmen replied back with a quick wink and a satisfied smile.

When the large pan of paella, Alexia used the serving spoon to scoop a generous serving of the rice, with prawns and chorizo, and placed it on your plate for you. She then served herself before passing it down the table.

You pile your fork with the paella, bringing the fork to your mouth. Immediately, the layers of flavour bloomed in your mouth: the smoky paprika from the chorizo, the sweetness of the prawn, and the aromatic saffron that tinted the rice. You chew some more before tucking into your plate again. Gathering another spoonful of paella into your mouth, you were practically dancing in your sea. In the middle of chewing, you turn to Alexia with wide eyes.

She thumbs away the little bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, patiently waiting for you to finish chewing.

You swallow, licking your lips afterwards. “Delicioso”

“Si?” Alexia asks, with raised eyebrows, as if she can’t see the pure elation painted all over your face.

You hum in reply, nodding– practically humming a melody as you eat another forkful. “Si!”

Alexia laughs at you, endearingly, unable to resist the urge to love on you. She wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to her, and starts raining kisses on your cheek. You blush profusely at her blatant display of affection in front of her family but everyone just continuous on eating, but you can see a few secret smiles on their faces.

“Oye, Carlos! pass the paella, por favor” Alexia calls out. When the plate reaches her, she scoops a serving directly onto your plate.

“We cook this every year,” She says, leaning close to your ear. “It’s part of the tradition. You’ll have to learn the recipe if you want to stick around.”

You look at her and smile, your heart swelling at the thought of being part of these yearly rituals. Glancing around the table, you tried to take in the sight of the rest of Alexia's family and their happy faces. Everyone sat around this large table, passing around dishes and stories. The evening air was filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low crackle of the fire. Not a bad deal at all.

From the distance, just across the vineyard, you could see a faint warm glow illuminating, perhaps from where other houses were participating in the celebrations as well.

The evening slipped into a comfortable rhythm. The conversation flowed, mostly in Spanish with Alexia translating when needed, but even when you didn’t understand every word, you never felt left out. Everyone made sure to try and speak English, especially when they were referring to you. Your heart warmed at their efforts.

Javier, ever the storyteller, was in the middle of recounting a story from his travels. His hands moved expressively as he spoke, his voice booming with laughter. You listened intently as you followed his tale.

All of a sudden a hand gently tapped yours that was resting on top of the table.

“So,” Tia Isabel, who was sitting in front of you, asked. She eagerly leaned forward in her seat, her plate pushed aside and she was nursing her glass of red wine. “Tell us, how did you and Alexia meet?”

You smiled, glancing over at the woman with the pretty hazel eyes sitting right next to you. “We met through the club,” You explained. “I work for the club doing all the social media stuff."

Maritza pipes up from beside you. "Oh. Are you the one--uhh how do you say-- filming the videos?"

You turn to her and nod. Maritza looked a lot like Alexia's sister, Alba. If you did not know any better, you would've assumed Alexia had been hiding a third sister from you. "Si. I make and create content for the team's social media."

You catch from your peripheral as your girlfriend suddenly seems very interested in your conversation. She stretches an arm, resting it on the back of your chair.

"So the blindfolded pizza challenge was your idea?"

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat up. That video was one of your favourite pieces of content you had ever created, and it was an instant hit with the fans. On the other hand, it was Alexia’s least favourite.

Sofia clasps her hands together, practically bouncing in her chair. "I love that video!"

Alexia interjects. "I still can't believe she made me eat olives. I hate olives"

Chuckling at the visible shudder she let out, you smile when you recall the shock on everyone's faces when Alexia blindly picked out the one paper that had olives on it. The rules of the game state that the players must take turns blindly pulling out little slips of paper with a food item on it. They must then put the food item onto their pizza, and bake it. To make it fun, aside from the typical pizza toppings, food options include gummy worms, mustard, anchovies and– unfortunately for Alexia– olives.

So Alexia had no choice but to begrudgingly place a couple olives on her pizza. You will never get over the sight of the Barcelona captain with tears welling in her eyes at the end of the video. Afterwards, she gave you the silent treatment the entire evening.

As the conversation continued to flow, Abuela Carmen stood up, her chair scraping against the tiled floor, catching everyone’s attention. “I hope everyone has room for postres-- dessert,?” she announced with a smile. She motioned for Elena and Sofia, who brought out trays of panellets and sweet potatoes.

Everyone ooooh'd and ahhh'd' as the trays were placed on the table. You watched in awe as the beautifully arranged treats were revealed. Panellets, the traditional marzipan sweets, were decorated with pine nuts, coconut, and almonds. Their sweet aroma mingled with the scent of the roasted sweet potatoes.

Abuela Carmen handed you a small dessert plate. “You must try these, preciosa. Quickly. Before the rest of the family eats them all.”

You graciously took a piece of the panellet, its delicate sweetness melting in your mouth. “Esto es delicioso, Abuela Carmen!”

Abuela Carmen beamed, patting your hand. The crinkles by her eyes deepened until her eyes smiled like crescent moons. “I’m glad you like them”

She turns to the table, quickly grabbing the last bit of the panellets, much to the apparent surprise of the entire family. She places the last piece on your plate. “This is for you.”

The table is stunned for a moment, but they all nod in agreement. That is until Maritza breaks the silence by calling for another toast– this time, to you. You wave your hand around, covering your face in embarrassment but it only fuels everyone to continue teasing you out of affection. Alexia is beaming by your side. It’s sort of a known thing in their culture that people usually offer the last piece of any cake or desert to the people they care about. Her Abuela offering the last piece to you is already a sign of fondness.

Despite your embarrassment over the attention, you gladly accept the last piece of desert and enjoyed every last bite.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Eventually, the family gathered their drinks and began to move from the terrace to the courtyard. The space was softly illuminated by string lights and a large stone fireplace. Vintage wrought-iron lanterns hung at intervals along the pergola’s length. Arranged in clusters around the fireplace, there were plush, low-slung lounge chairs and sofas, upholstered in fabrics of earthy tones.

The warmth from the fire pit mingled with the cool autumn breeze. You were almost tempted to excuse yourself to fetch your coat, so when Alexia silently handed you a big wool throw for you to share, you practically let out a big sigh in relief. "no puedo imaginar la vida sin ti, mi corazon. i love you so much"

Your lover just laughs, throwing her head back freely, before bending down to meet your lips for a kiss. You feel her smiling against your lips as she whispers "stop picking up your Spanish from telenovelas, amor"

She kisses you once more before asking you to scoot over.

She took her seat beside you, your shoulders touching, legs cocooned under the throw blanket. There was something magical about this moment right now. Something comforting about the way the stars seemed to glow brighter, the way the fire crackled in the distance, and the warmth of Alexia's hand in yours.

“I am really happy you are here,” she leaned in to whisper, pressing a soft kiss to your temple afterwards.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a deep sense of contentment and belly full of the hearty meal. “Me too, baby.”

As everyone continued to sip their beverage of choice, Abuelo Miguel began to tell stories—tales from his childhood, stories of La Castanyada celebrations that stretched back generations. His voice carried the weight of the years. You could see the flicker of memories in his eyes as he recounted how, when he was a young boy, they would light bonfires in the town square, gathering with chestnuts and special wine specially reserved for the occasion.

Alexia nudge you with her shoulder, her eyes doing that thing where she studies your face intently, silently trying to read your mind. When she likes what she sees, she smiles. “It’s beautiful, si?”

You gaze right back at her, appreciating the way the glow of the fire highlights her face; the sharpness of her jawline, the twinkle in her eyes, and the slight wetness on her plump bottom lip. “Very beautiful,” you whispered back to her.

As the evening wore on, more chestnuts were passed around. Everyone ate them with sticky fingers and washed them down with small glasses of sweet moscatel wine. Talks shifted to quieter conversations as the night settled, the stars brighter against the dark sky.

At one point, Abuela Carmen stood and began to sing a melodic song, her voice warm, the notes hanging in the cool air like a lullaby. Abuelo Miguel joined in, his deep baritone harmonising with hers, creating a moment so tender that you almost felt as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

Alexia shifted closer to you, tugging the blanket higher so it covers you from the neck down. The air was slightly chilly now. She throws an arm around your shoulder, tucking you to her side, letting you rest against her. “I grew up with these songs,” she said softly against your ear. “Every year, we sing them.”

You laid your her head on her shoulder, taking a good look around the courtyard, taking in the scene—the glow of the lanterns, the warmth of the fire, the faces of the people who had welcomed you so easily, and the sound of Alexia's steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I think I could get used to this,” You whispered to the woman beside you, surprising even yourself with the hint of emotion in your voice.

Alexia smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes. She cupped your chin, tilting it up slightly, and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Qué bien, because you are part of it from now on.”

fall is such a romantic season.

i hope your autumn has started off as beautifully as mine. think of me whenever you see leaves dancing in the wind x

・❥・- kisses, butter

read more of the Butter's Meadio-cre Mayhem (the Spooky Season collection) here

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #woso x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #barca femeni #fc barca femeni #my fics

749 notes · View notes

scealaiscoite · 4 months ago

Text

⋆˚࿔ prompt sets of three 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

write a piece featuring - in any capacity you can think of - all three things depicted in the given prompt!

¹⁾ a polka-dot bikini, a throw blanket and a pint glass

²⁾ a sliotar, a flat tire and a thunderstorm

³⁾ a teakettle, a fresh bruise and rosewater

⁴⁾ a chipped enamel bathtub, a blue sweater and basil leaves

⁵⁾ howling gale winds, an inflatable paddling pool and an oil lamp

⁶⁾ a fresh buzzcut, pink bubblegum and rolling tobacco

⁷⁾ gas station bandaids, a cellophane-wrapped bouquet and muddy footprints

⁸⁾ a lipstick print, skinned knees and stained-glass windows

⁹⁾ a busted streetlight, green olives and a teak countertop

¹⁰⁾ gun oil, red lace and an old armchair

¹¹⁾ a fresh tattoo, a sacristy, and guilt

¹²⁾ a corner booth, sweet patchouli and a wallet

¹³⁾ donuts, orange juice and a jail cell

¹⁴⁾ a cold red bull, shaking hands and broken traffic lights

¹⁵⁾ new graves, a busted headlight and silver rings

¹⁶⁾ handcuffs, brightly coloured building blocks and fir trees

¹⁷⁾ a shortwave radio, takeout containers and a bare lightbulb

¹⁸⁾ broken windows, waist-high grasses and lit matches

¹⁹⁾ orange segments, divorce papers and a front porch

²⁰⁾ horror movies, steaming showers and cold bedsheets

²¹⁾ brazilian lemonade, a split lip and daisy chains

²²⁾ a red convertible, a priest’s collar and dogtags

²³⁾ a corner office, parking tickets and greyhound races

²⁴⁾ bitten lips, army fatigues, and coca-cola

²⁵⁾ old wives’ tales, creaky stairs and cherry lipgloss

²⁶⁾ smooth whiskey, greying hair and warm hands

²⁷⁾ hospital food, full moons and a reconciliation

²⁸⁾ exes, candy wrappers and a twin bed

²⁹⁾ a rural motel, a pocket knife and iodine

³⁰⁾ a dirty martini, a dressing gown and blood under fingernails

³¹⁾ slept-in braids, a lamplit office and an explosion

³²⁾ blueberry pancakes, a restraining order and the taste of rum off someone’s lips

³³⁾ farmers’ market peaches, burnt coffee and houseplants

³⁴⁾ a late text, faded jeans and lightning strikes

³⁶⁾ desert air, zinnias and chocolates

³⁷⁾ an old truck, freshly turned earth and a tv dinner

³⁸⁾ wedding rings, wildfire and wrought iron gates

³⁹⁾ a hostage situation, evergreen trees and a pierced tongue

⁴⁰⁾ unripe strawberries, bitter wine and a kitchen table

⁴¹⁾ a head laid down in a lap, green tea and a break news announcement

⁴²⁾ a fire alarm, a flower-patterened apron and an ajar kitchen window

⁴³⁾ a jar of jam, two shots of vodka and a stack of car manuals

⁴⁴⁾ techno music at 4am, knitted jumpers and a broken watch

⁴⁵⁾ a green silk scarf, a pan of burnt food and the trunk of a car

⁴⁶⁾ bound hands, a crescent moon and laughter

⁴⁷⁾ a winter coat, a heatwave and fresh mangos

⁴⁸⁾ a thrift store sofa, a highrise apartment building and creaking floorboards

⁴⁹⁾ missing teeth, a house half covered in ivy and cheap beer

⁵⁰⁾ undeveloped camera film, stomach kisses and cigarette smoke

#again! sorry if this is wildly unusable but it tickled the creativity goblin in the back of my brain and he's been awful cranky lately. so #prompts #prompt list #writing prompts #writing exercise #rp meme #otp prompts #prompt sets #aesthetic prompts #drabble prompts

849 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 2 months ago

Note

harry at these soccer games…… 🥸🥸🥸 now THATS! my baby daddy prosecco h🥸

wordcount: 3.2k+

—————

"Sweetheart, are y'almost ready?"

(Y/N) wanted to roll her eyes, huff out an attitude and shout back to Harry that she'd be ready when she was ready, until she saw the time.

They were now running fifteen minutes behind.

To be fair, she thought she was doing much better on time than she actually was. She had figured the last time he had shouted to her was only a short two minutes ago, but it appeared he had given her a full ten minutes and she was still working on getting her hair to lay the way she wanted. At least her makeup was done and her outfit was laid out on her bed.

"Almost," (Y/N) called back over the sound of the hairdryer, working the device a bit quicker over her strands.

"We need to leave in five minutes, love. We're already running a little late, so try to be ready soon."

Her lips thinned at his evergreen patience. Now she felt that much more guilty for almost giving him attitude. Besides, today was for him, one of the very few times he allowed himself to be the focus of their activities, the least she could do was hurry up and little and let him enjoy it to the fullest.

Despite still not being happy with her hair, she took the strands at what they were and turned off the dryer. Worst case, she'd stick a claw clip in and hope that concealed the untamable strands. Rushing back to her bedroom, she made quick work of wiggling into her outfit. Finishing touches came in the form of clumsy perfume spritzes, extra swipes of lip gloss before shoving the tube in her bag, and blindly stuffing her feet into her shoes.

Skittering out of her bedroom, she met Harry where he was standing with his phone in hand, forehead creased.

"I'm ready, I'm sorry," (Y/N) blurted, fastening her emergency claw clip to the handle of her purse, "We can go."

Harry looked up at her, clearly stressed with lines around his eyes and lips thinned, "'S alright, love. Y'look pretty."

"Worth the wait?" she teased, feeling her cheeks warm from his smile praise.

The worry lines on his face melted some as she spoke, "Always. C'mon, pretty."

Setting her hand in the crook of Harry's offered arm, (Y/N) suddenly forgot about each strand of hair that wouldn't cooperate, the fold on the heel of her sock from stubbornly stepping into her shoes. There was no way she could feel less than perfect when Harry talked to her that way—when he looked at her like that.

—————

After the debacle of finding a parking space among the crowded lot, (Y/N) wasn't excited to see the amount of people that outnumbered the cars they had already trekked through. While she definitely enjoyed her nightlife, bar hopping among different crowds, there was something definitely much less appealing about this crowd she found herself among.

(It was probably the lack of alcohol, if she was being honest).

"Where are our seats?" (Y/N) murmured, clutching Harry's hand to keep him from straying.

Absently peeking at the ticket on his phone, Harry rattled off the section and seat numbers. Truthfully, the information didn't mean much to her given that Harry was in charge of leading them to where they needed to go; she had hoped he would tell her in general where they would be watching the match, as in by the goal or something.

She hummed in response, letting him pull her to go ahead of him as they ventured into a particularly congested area of the arena. A line for the concessions converged with the line of eager fans attempting to get special edition merchandise for the event, enough activity to leave a narrow space for both flows of traffic to travel through.

"Jus' go straight ahead," Harry murmured as he ducked down to her ear, his hands on her waist from behind.

A string of excuse me and sorry fell from her lips every time she encountered a new body, her steps minuscule as they moved beyond. If she had even wanted anything to drink or snack on during the game, there was no way she was even attempting the line unless they found a less noticeable stall or until everyone cleared out.

Popping out on the other side, (Y/N) found a small space out of the way before turning to look at Harry once more. He made sure they got through the worst of it together, but his captaining job was far from over if the rest of the stadium was anything like that.

"Y'okay, pretty?" he asked, looking to her through the dark of his shades though the stern line of his lips showed off all of his concern.

"Yeah," she sighed, anchoring herself once more with a grip on his hand, "Just a lot of people. I wasn't expecting this."

He hummed an acknowledgment to her as they started down the curving corridor along the bowl of the venue. "I've been wanting to take y'to other matches before this one, but someone's always too busy."

The look he cast over his sunnies was accusing, though it lost much of his grit when a slight smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"Because I am," (Y/N) countered, just a pitch away from a whine in her voice, "And, I don't think I've been missing out on much if this is how these things go."

"'S no different than one of your concerts, love," he mused, ever-patient as he counted off each of the section headers above the doors leading to the seating, "And this is a big match, anyway. They're usually not this crazy."

Before she could offer anything in response, Harry rapidly pulled her out of the way as a group of shirtless men with green painted torsos barreled through the corridor, drunken laughter spilling in their wake. His features were set in stiff lines as he looked over his shoulder at the rowdy group disappearing.

"Maybe a little worse than your concerts, actually," he muttered, the admission made under his breath as he opted to keep his arm around her waist as opposed to leashing her by his hand. Easier to keep her safe.

With that, he became her guard dog for the trek, sharp eyes keeping watch for any and everything that might cause his pretty girl harm while finding their seats. Rowdy patrons or those unwilling to give her space were given sharp glare before Harry elbowed around them, ensuring no one touched even a single hair on the top of her head.

It was enough to have (Y/N) sighing as if in a dream. It was cute seeing him act this way, protective and adoring. It was even more interesting to see others' reactions to his behavior; when others cowered out of the way, (Y/N) wondered what was going on in their head. She couldn't imagine wanting to go the opposite direction of her Harry, not even when he had his lips pursed and eyes narrowed. She was too familiar with the dimples hiding in the folds of his cheeks or the bunny-like front teeth shielded by lips.

"I'll go first this time. Hang onto me," Harry directed once they reached the correct section.

As he started down the flight of stairs, he reached a hand out behind him for (Y/N) to take. She didn't hesitate before clutching his fingers, his grip tight as he started descending to their row. Looking around at the arena of fans around her, (Y/N) truthfully couldn't believe the energy. It was decidedly much different than any concert she had ever attended, even to ones she'd been to at this exact venue.

There was almost something slightly aggressive about the audience with the differing sides mingling together, along with pints of alcohol and greasy food. There were costumed attendees complete with wild wigs and painted faces sat beside those with determined faces and brains full of the rulebook. Of course there were those like H, just excited to be there and hopeful for their favorite team, and those like her, there because someone they cared about wanted to be in attendance.

Going lower and lower in the bowl, Harry finally stopped over a handful of rows away from the green. Pulling her to stand beside him, he pointed at a pair of vacant seats a few people in.

"Those two, right there. I'll be right behind you," he murmured into her ear, urging her on with a hand on her back.

Going ahead without a word, (Y/N) apologized as she skirted her way by those already sat down. She couldn't help the frown that plucked her features when the crowd around them erupted into cheers for no apparent reason. It spiked her anxiety, feeling as if they were missing something important, even if (Y/N) didn't really have any real interest in any of the events taking place this evening.

Settling into her seat, she waited for Harry to join her with wide eyes. As soon as he caught the way she was looking at him, a small smile touched his cheeks.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he uttered, sliding his sunglasses to the top of his head.

"There's..." she trailed off, emphasizing her point with her eyes scanning around the stadium, "so much."

"I know, right?" he muttered, a giddy undertone to his words, "'S exciting."

"Something like that," she smiled, happy to see how excited he was to be here.

"It'll be more fun when the match starts," he insisted, "Everyone settles down a little."

"When does it start?" (Y/N) asked, watching as the jumbo screen above the field went through an advertisement for the cheese sticks available at the concession stand. If she wasn't turned off by the mess of a line they'd seen, she would be asking Harry if they could grab an order of the fried cheese.

Harry hummed, checking his phone. "Not for another forty-five minutes."

Just as he spoke, just a couple of rows ahead of them, a pair of strangers began loudly arguing about some statistics she had no context for.

This was going to be a long forty-five minutes.

—————

Shooting to her feet, (Y/N) followed Harrys cue as he cheered. She wasn't exactly sure what for, considering she didn't see any of the players make a goal, but she would just have to ask about those rules later. For now, she clapped and cheered with him, watching from the corner of her eye for when he took his seat again.

When the crowd settled once more, Harry held a giddy smile on his face, nose pinkened by the time in the sun. As much as this match wasn't her cup of tea, seeing him having fun the way he was definitely made up for some of the discomfort and how lost she was rules-wise.

Leaning over the armrest with her mouth hovering by his ear, she asked the same question she'd already posed periodically through the match, "Good?"

"Really good, pretty!" he answered in a chirp, "We've got the ball now."

"Ohhh," she sounded. It was news to her that their preferred team didn't have the ball already.

The ball was nothing more than a black and white spot going across the green while colorful jerseys followed after. The audience was raptured, almost caught in silence while the plays were made, but (Y/N) was much more interested in watching Harry.

While he wasn't completely committed to watching any and every game that came on the television, she could tell being here was especially exciting for him. It made her excited about the game just seeing how much it meant to him; she was this close to grabbing a jersey to keep at his house for the nights she spent over.

She couldn't help but to angle herself as close as possible to him despite the armrest separating them, leaving her arm pressed flush against his. Harry didn't even glance at her before he was lifting that same arm and dropping it around her shoulders, keeping her close.

"Thank you for coming with me, sweetheart," he murmured into her ear, his voice clear over the rush of the crowd. A delicate kiss was placed on her temple, his lips warmer than even the sun's rays on the grass.

She beamed up at him, admiring the angles of his features. The height of his cheekbones, the line of his sun kissed nose, the length of his curling lashes. Her man.

"Thank you for bringing me," she said, craning her neck just enough to press her lips to the stubbled cheek.

She could feel the dip of his dimple underneath her lips as he smiled.

Just then, a seemingly important goal was made. Harry pulled her to stand up and cheer with him, his hands over his head with the rest of the excitable crowd.

"Did you see that!?" Harry yelled, eyes wide and smile broad.

Of course she didn't. She was busy kissing on her boyfriend, she wasn't watching the match.

Nonetheless, seeing him smile made it that much easier for her to do the same. "That was crazy!"

His expression—bright eyes with a wide smile, his cheeks holding a pinkened glow—was well worth her little fib.

—————

"That's gonna look really cute on you, sweetheart."

(Y/N)'s beaming smile was directed up at Harry, looking at the colorful jersey he'd purchased for her. It was truthfully not her color, and the fit was going to be something she was going to have to fight to style to her liking, but it was Harry's favorite player. More than anything, this was for him, something she was going to keep at his home for the night she would spend in his bed.

"You think so?" she chirped, looking up at him with bright eyes. Maybe her words were a bit of a ploy, fishing for some compliments. Could anyone blame her? Hearing softened words wrapped up in his voice, all while he was looking at her, was all too easy to become addicted to.

"I know so, love," he smiled, quickly casting his eyes to the line of cars slowly moving ahead of them, "Gonna wear it tonight?"

Her smile turned a bit sheepish as his voice drawled around the question. "I can, if you want."

When she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, she saw the way his eyes dropped to the jersey in her lap back up to the line of her profile. There was a shade to his gaze now, something warming through the green of his irises as he looked at her. The raspberry of his lips was slicked over by the top of her tongue just before his attention was called back to the windscreen.

"I want."

The breathy laugh that fell from her lips was just as dazed as it was spurred on by the butterflies awakening in her stomach. "I can do that."

Harry hummed, reaching over to place his palm against her thigh. Traffic finally began to shift from the stop and go lock the car park was caught in, into a slow crawl, leaving his eyes fixed on the windshield instead of on his pretty girl. Instinctively, she angered her body towards him, settling her palm atop his hand.

The dimple in his cheek was his only acknowledgment of her move. "Did y'really have fun today, love?"

"I did," she chirped, bouncing in her seat, "I don't think I really get it still, but it was so fun to see all of the people. It made me excited even though I didn't really know what for."

"Yeah?" he smiled, glancing at her as he shifted into the flow of traffic, "'M happy y'had fun. I know 's not really your thing, but it means a lot that y'came with me. Thank you, pretty girl."

This time, the warming pit in her stomach flushed away into something delicate, full of cotton candy clouds and saccharine threads. She was sure her eyes were practically hearts at this point, trained right on him.

"You always come to me with all of my favorite stuff, so I'm happy we did something for you today. You had fun today, right?"

"So much, baby. I always have fun with you."

She could have melted right into the leather of her seat if not for his hand on her thigh holding her together.

"I always have fun with you, too," she murmured, reaching across the center console until she had her lips pressed to his cheek. It was a lingering touch, something she was well aware she needed to cut short given the cars racing outside the windows, but she couldn't help but to take her time. The stubble under her kiss prickled against her lips, against the tip of her nose. "I love you."

As she settled back into her spot, Harry's grip tightened on her leg. "Pretty, I can't pull over right now."

Blinking at him, she sounded, "Huh?"

He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Y'can't act like that—kissing on me and whispering—when I've got to keep us safe. 'S not fair, I want to kiss you, too."

Biting back a smile, she wrapped her fingers around his clenching palm. "Just find a shoulder or something," she suggested, "Or, I'm sure we'll get to a red light at some point."

He seemed to consider the former suggestion for a moment, eyes glancing out the windscreen to the lanes before them. After a moment, he shook his head. "I'll save it for when we're home. Are y'spending the night?"

"I can if you want."

"I want."

This time, she couldn't help but let out a full, bubbling laugh. His response was quick—too quick to hide anything. "Are we still stopping for dinner?" she asked, despite knowing the likely answer.

"No."

Maybe she was missing the feel of his stubbled cheek, or she was teasing him just a little, but she couldn't help but to lean across and press another kiss to his cheek.

His hand on her thigh moved in an instant, landing on the back of her neck in a weighty press.

"Pretty."

"Sorry," she giggled, pulling away though Harry's hand stayed just where it was on the back of her neck, "I'll stop."

The sunburned glow to his nose and cheeks was only emboldened by the flush touching the cream of his skin. "Y'better, love. Y'like being good for me, right?"

It was her turn to feel the warmth, the pad of his thumb skating over the column of her throat. "Yeah. Sorry, H."

He gave one more lingering pulse of his fingers before his palm dragged down the curve of her throat and the length of her arm until it was back in her lap. "It's alright, sweetheart. Jus' save it for m'bedroom. And your new little shirt."

Who was she to turn down a plan like that?

Maybe, they were going to have to start going to more of these matches. Especially if they ended like this.

—————

ive missed my king Prosecco:( I really hope everyone enjoys how this turned out! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if theres anything fun you want to share send them in!!!!!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry imagine #harry fluff #older harry #harry x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #older harry styles #harry styles x reader #pleasing #harrys house #as it was #fine line

680 notes · View notes

kazutora-kurokawa · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! If requests are open, may I submit a request for yandere baji with an reckless s/o (Cross the street like she has 9 lives, talks to strangers unprompted AND lowkey tends to attract weirdos bc she wants to be nice to everyone but doesn't release that not everyone is nice?)

(I apologise if my request was too specific. Have a nice day!)

Yandere!Baji x Reckless!Reader

♡ SFW, fem reader, violence (not against reader), Baji being a menace per usual ♡

note: pls don't apologize, I love when people are specific with requests (I can't follow bare bones instructions because I lack comprehension sometimes lmao)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

🔥 This man has to watch your every move before you get yourself killed

🔥 Holds your hand when you walk across the street because you just dart into traffic like an idiot

🔥 Reminds you not to talk to strangers who look shady and gets frustrated when you don't listen to him and proceed to be nice to anyone who talks to you. He has had to murder so many people you approach (some for no real reason but you obviously won't find that out anyway)

🔥 He doesn't trust you with sharp objects like knives or scissors because you tend to fling them around when you hold them and have probably almost stabbed him before

🔥 He can't even trust you in the kitchen period because you and the stove don't mix well, he came home once to you almost burning the kitchen down 😑

"I was gone for ten minutes...what the hell could've happened in ten minutes?!"

🔥 Sometimes he wonders how easy life would be if he just locks you away somewhere, but he knows you'd still probably end up hurting yourself

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @drunkcheesecake @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten

#tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #baji x reader #baji fluff #baji headcanons #yandere baji #yandere x reader #best boyfriend alert ‼️

181 notes · View notes

verecunda · 18 days ago

Text

Eregion comes into its own at midwinter. When the winds come racing down from Caradhras, they bring flurries of snow that gather in shining white drifts over the gardens and orchards, and in the meads beyond the city walls. The banks of the Sirannon and the Glanduin are fringed with ice that glimmers like silver and crystal. But most beautiful of all is the holly: not just evergreen, the holly-trees of Eregion in fact seem to bloom more brightly in the depths of winter, the leaves gleaming green, the berries clustering like garnets - always there are plenty of berries, always enough to feed the birds and mice that shelter in the bushes.

In Ost-in-Edhil, the markets teem with merchants: Elves and Dwarves, and even some Men who might find their way in from the settlements of Eriador and Dunland, even some coming upriver from Tharbad and Lond Daer. In particular, the high road between city and Khazad-dûm is full of traffic: carts coming back and forth with goods to trade and with folk of both kingdoms coming and going to visit friends, Elves walking lightly upon the snow, Dwarves tramping in heavy boots and tasselled hoods.

The Elves have become used to celebrating Durin's Day with their Dwarven friends, so from the end of autumn until Yuletide, the houses are full of feasting and gift-giving, toasts drunk in Elven wine and Dwarven spiced ale. Houses and arbours are hung with greenery and coloured lights - Celebrimbor worked out the craft of Fëanor's blue lamps and has since developed them in other colours: green and gold, silver and red. The Gwaith-i-Mírdain in particular have a friendly competition with their Dwarven fellows each year, to see who can craft the most ingenious gifts for each other. Elf-children play with Dwarven toys, and Dwarf youngsters doze by the hearthside, pleasantly full of Elven cakes. Songs are sung in the languages of friends, Elven and Dwarven voices alike lifting in praise of Elbereth's stars and Durin's Crown, and hailing the return of the Sun together.

In the deeps of winter, the Land of Holly is a beacon of light and warmth.

#Lord of the Rings #The Silmarillion #The Rings of Power #Eregion #Celebrimbor #☀️ Merry Midwinter ☀️

81 notes · View notes

crustaceousfaggot · 2 years ago

Text

So I've been thinking a lot about the setting of Disco Elysium. Specifically it being set in late winter/early spring. It's not something I've really seen anyone else bring up.

I mean, the symbolism seems pretty obvious right? Spring is the time of new beginnings, winter is ending and we're entering a time of potential and rebirth. Definitely nothing new. But I think it goes beyond that.

I live in one of the coldest major cities in the world. Not *the* coldest, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a city with over 1,000,000 inhabitants that gets colder than it gets here. Winters are long and brutal and difficult, and when the soil itself is frozen and covered in a foot of packed snow it's really hard to believe that the world could look any other way.

And don't get me wrong, winter is beautiful. The world is quiet and picturesque. There's none of the usual dirt and debris in the streets because it's all buried under the snow. The way that fresh snow sparkles under street lights at night is one of the most breathtakingly gorgeous things I've ever seen.

It's early April right now, and the snow is melting. It's not all gone, but it's getting there. When the air starts to warm up there's this feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air. Spring is here, and any second now the world will be bursting with new life and beautiful greenery.

But it's not. Not yet.

For about a month and a half after the snow starts to melt, the world is grey. No glittering snow, no budding flowers, no swirling red leaves, just puddles of brown water and lawns of brown grass. It's like winter had ended, but the world has yet to realize that it's supposed to be spring. Until it remembers, we're all trapped in a world where there is no season at all.

Sometimes it snows, but the snow never sticks around. Sometimes it rains, but the rain never brings flowers in its wake.

That last month of winter, that first month of spring, whatever you want to call it, is my least favourite time of year. I heard it described once as "the long-preserved corpse of autumn, finally allowed to rot", and that phrase stuck with me. There are eight month old leaves on the ground, skeletal and bleached grey by a winter trapped under the ice. Without the snow to cover it, you can't ignore just how much we've let our city go to shit. The trees are bare and skeletal, and even the evergreens look washed out and grey when they're not contrasted against the snow. Most of the birds aren't back yet, so the only sound outside my window is the ever-present hum of traffic.

It's impossible to ignore the movement and the sounds of humanity, but at the same time the world has never felt so stagnant.

I think there are all sorts of comparisons you could draw here, some of which hold up better than others. The one that first comes to mind for me is sobriety- the line "Full recovery will take years, though. It’ll be depressing. And it’ll be boring. Don’t expect any further rewards or handclaps." from the "Waste Land Of Reality"o thought is one which really stuck with me on my first playthrough, and one which feels especially appropriate here. But that's just one angle.

How much of this was intentional? I don't know. Probably not most of it. Part of me just wanted to go on a little tangent about the seasonal purgatory I'm trapped in once again. But I genuinely don't think there could be a better time of year to set a game like Disco Elysium. That bleak dusty shoulder season, where all the ugliest and most honest parts of nature and civilization are on display. The time of year where I've gone through the ringer and come out the other side, but everything still looks and feels like shit. It's just a different kind of shit.

Spring isn't here. Not yet. And when it does come, it won't fix anything. There will still be garbage on the ground and pollution in the air, there will still be class inequality and senseless violence and I will still be mentally ill.

But still.

For the first time in months, I can feel the wind against my skin without it hurting.

Whatever that's worth.

#I don't know what this is you guys #don't take it too seriously #i just had a thought and then I had to get all 'ooOoh this is very profound' about it #disco elysium #de #harry du bois #hdb #disco elysium meta #1k

1K notes · View notes

joelalorian · 1 month ago

Text

Wonder in Winterland - Part I

Hallmark!Joel Miller x f!reader | wc: 2790 | masterlist

Summary: You, a city girl on a cross-country road trip a week before Christmas, find yourself stranded in a whimsical Christmas town. You soon discover there is more to life than big city dreams. Based on the Hallmark movie Love You Like Christmas.

Warnings: None (although the rest of this blog is 18+ mdni). This is utter fluff and whimsy. Limited descriptions of reader and no use of y/n. Enjoy it with a cuppa hot cocoa and a warm blankie. Will post on Sundays throughout December.

Dividers courtesy of saradika-graphics. This magical moodboard is all thanks to @brittmb115!

Part I

A thousand miles from nowhere, you grew weary of driving despite the scenic view of snow-dusted evergreens looming like sentinels along the barren stretch of highway. The old pickup your dad left you ate up the miles like an asphalt sandwich, its engine rumbling almost louder than the outdated radio as it struggled to stay tuned to the local stations. The scent of pine mixed with motor oil hung in the cab, a reminder of just how old the truck was and the amount of time you spent trapped in it so far.

If not for the irrational fear of flying, you’d already be in San Francisco, enjoying a cocktail at Pier 39, watching the sea lions as you killed time before your long-time client’s wedding.

Instead, you were twenty-seven hours into the cross-country trek with too many hours left to go and you had to pee so bad you could practically taste it. Shifting uncomfortably, you casted a glance at the towering mountains lining the valley, the sun fighting to peek through the lingering fog as it rose above the peaks. When traffic ground to a halt, a frustrated groan slipped past your lips, and you threw the transmission into park.

Popping the door open with a loud creak, you took the unexpected break as a sign to stretch your legs. The brisk air outside bit at your skin when you stepped out, breath forming small clouds that disappeared into the winter wind. You weaved between cars to the soundtrack of beeping horns and impatient shouts until coming upon the cause of the delay.

A trailer full of Christmas trees sat partially overturned, half its cargo scattered across the highway like some messed up holiday party. Among the chaos stood a man – tall, broad, and clad in a thick, well-worn flannel jacket that looked as rugged as the mountains behind him. The breeze caught his dark curls, tossing them across his forehead as he worked to pile the fallen trees back onto the trailer. Wholly unbothered by the flustered drivers glaring and honking at him, the man worked with steady, unrushed focus.

“Need any help?” you called out, slipping on a pair of leather gloves as you approached.

The man’s head snapped toward you at the sound of your voice, and he paused, brow loosening and a small smile pulling at his lips as warm brown eyes drank you in with a curious, amused glint. “I’d hate to ruin your pretty little outfit, darlin’.”

Your eyebrow arched. A playful smiled tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, snow crunching under your heeled boots. “You think my outfit’s pretty?”

His expression faltered for a split second, replaced by something warmer. “I think you’re pretty. The outfit’s just window dressing.” His grin widened as he added, “I’m Joel, by the way.”

Your laugh bubbled out, light and unexpected, cutting through the cold rhythmically. Joel’s gaze lingered on you, his cheeks tinged pink – not from the chill, but from something else entirely. Just as your gloved hands were about to clasp in a handshake, some asshole laid on his horn with a shout.

“Can you two get a room or something? Some of us have somewhere important to be!”

Turning to glare at the offender, you opened your mouth and the New Jersey in you came flying out. “Can it, dick cheese! Get off your fat ass and help if you’re in that much of a hurry!”

A bark of laughter drew your attention back to Joel as he shook his head in merry disbelief before going back to moving the trees. This time, you didn’t ask if he wanted help and bent to grab one of the smaller trees to lug it toward the trailer. The cold bit at your cheeks, breaking through your coat that was clearly more for style than warmth. The fresh scent of pine filled your lungs, as you hefted the tree back to the trailer.

Joel stood a few paces away with a larger tree slung over his broad shoulder, watching with an amused tilt of his head as you struggled past him.

“Aw come on, doll. You don’t have to do that.” His voice held a soft, almost pleading quality, but hidden behind that was a flicker of admiration as you ignored him and carried on despite the struggle. His expression shifted – half a smirk, half something deeper – as you hefted the tree onto the trailer and turned to fetch yet another one.

The pair of you continued working, Joel’s eyes flicking toward you now and then, lingering a little longer than they should. Around you, the chaos of impatient honking and shouts became nothing more than white noise.

A few others – including the mouthy asshole from earlier – seemed to get the hint that the roadway would clear quicker if they helped and within ten minutes, two of the travel lines were clear and traffic started to flow once again.

“Thanks for your help. You should probably get going, you look like you’re freezing,” Joel said as the last tree landed on the trailer and he pulled the tie down straps taut. “I’m gonna be here a while waiting for the tow truck. Can’t fix the trailer without some equipment.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Joel.” You shook Joel’s hand again, the heat from him worming its way through the material of your gloves, curling around you like the heat from a distant fire.

“You, too, darlin’.”

You hesitated, staring at each other for several long moments, not wanting to leave but you didn’t have a good enough excuse to stay. Flashing one last charming smile, you waved and sauntered back to your truck, which sat alone in the still blocked third lane.

The moment your truck refused to start, panic set in, swirling like winter wind in your chest. You hopped out again, popping the hood with more frustration than sense. Steam wafted from the still warm engine in thin, mocking wisps as you stared at the confusing labyrinth of parts comprising the engine compartment, entirely clueless. The frigid air nipped at your fingers and numbed your toes – why didn’t you dress appropriately knowing you’d be driving through a winter wonderland for half the journey.

The crunch of boots over the mix of ice and gravel sounded behind you, causing a shiver to wander down your spine. “I believe it’s my turn to offer a hand,” Joel said, his voice a deep rumble, sending a ripple of something straight to your core. When you turned, he was closer than you expected, his warm brown eyes softening as he took in your helpless shrug. “Let me take a look.”

He leaned over the engine, his broad and calloused hands moving deftly as though coaxing the old truck into cooperation. You caught yourself staring at the way his jaw clenched in concentration, the salt and pepper scruff along his jaw catching the light when he titled his head. Each frustrated grunt from him made your stomach flip, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a while. Your thoughts began wandering in a certain direction as you eyed the breadth of him…

After a few fruitless minutes, Joel straightened, wiping his palms along the dark denim covering his legs before running one hand through his dark curls. The movement left his hair deliciously mussed, and you ached to run your own fingers through it.

“Can’t do much out here in the cold. Jimmy’s got the tools and parts we’d need back at his garage. Lemme just call him to give ‘em the heads up he’ll need to tow it back.”

As he spoke into his phone, explaining your plight to Jimmy, you realized how much you appreciated the way he said your name, drawing it out like something worth savoring. The way he stood close, his shoulders hunched slightly, broad body breaking the wind to protect you from the cold as much as he could, didn’t go unnoticed either.

“He’ll be here in a few,” Joel said once the call ended. “You can wait in my truck if you’re cold. I’ll give you a lift into town after.” Joel led you toward the shiny black four by four parked half on the shoulder, opening the door for you like a true country gentleman. Holding out a hand, he helped you climb up into the passenger seat as the sound of large tires on the rumble strip sounded behind you. “Up you get. That’ll be Jimmy. Feel free to start ‘er up and put the heat on. We’ll be done in no time.”

Your hands grasped the ring of keys and immediately stuck the right one into the ignition. The truck growled to life with a simple turn of your wrist and heat poured from the vents, carrying the heady scent of fresh-cut trees and sandalwood through the cab – his scent, you realized, and it was unexpectedly comforting. You adjusted in the seat, your fingers brushing over the fabric of a thick Carhart jacket slung over the headrest, as the warmth of the truck seemed to seep into your very core.

You had just pulled the jacket off the seat to wrap around yourself when Joel opened the driver-side door and climbed in, his movements fluid and unhurried. He glanced your way as he settled into the seat, the corners of his lips twitching upward when he noticed you bobbing your head along to Bing Crosby crooning over the radio.

“That was quick!” you exclaimed.

Joel’s chuckle was low and intimate. “Just needed the right leverage,” he said, resting his hands briefly on the heated steering wheel. His large, strong fingers flexed as though testing their strength after the labor. “Jimmy’s hooking up your truck now. He’ll be right behind us.”

You nodded, gaze drifting to his profile to drink in the sharp lines of his jaw and the pink tinge on his cheeks. Snow started falling outside as Joel shifted the truck into gear and began driving. As he steered the large truck down the highway, you caught a faint, amused glint in his eyes when he asked, “So, road-tripping for the holidays?”

The pair of you made easy conversation as he drove. You told him about your travel plans, and he told you about his farm. The miles passed in a blur before he signaled to take the next exit.

“Winterland?” you whispered upon seeing the welcome sign indicating the town’s name, the word slipping past your lips in wonder.

The small town of Winterland was like stepping into a Christmas card come to life. Lights twinkled on every storefront, reflections dancing off the snow-covered sidewalks. Wreaths adorned old gas-style lampposts, and the faint sound of holiday music drifted through the air from scattered outdoor speakers. Joel slowed the truck as he drove down Main Street, and you leaned closer to the window, the scene outside stealing your breath.

Joel glanced at you, warmth lighting his expression as he watched your awe unfold. “It grows on you,” he murmured, his voice almost too quiet to hear over the hum of the engine.

“You have got to be kidding me!” The urge to stomp your foot like a child nearly impossible to fight, you settled for a frustrated huff instead. “Nearly a week? Really?”

Jimmy the tow truck driver slash mechanic slash owner of the only gas station in town shrugged regretfully, one hand placed on the paunch pulling taut on his coveralls, the other stuck in his pocket. “Between the holidays and the weather, that’s the best my supplier could do. Parts for old trucks like that aren’t common, hon.”

“Can’t you order the parts from Amazon or something? They have two-day delivery!”

“Sorry, ma’am. I checked already and they’d have the same problems delivering the parts. That’s the downfall of small mountain towns, unfortunately, and it doesn’t get much smaller than Winterland.” Jimmy tried to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace on his grizzled face.

“Damn. Thanks for trying, Jimmy. I know you’re doing your best and I appreciate it.” Bumping your fist against the counter twice, you spun on your heels to leave only to turn back around. “Uh, is there like an inn or hotel or something nearby? I’m going to need a place to stay if the truck is going to take a week to fix.”

“That we do. The Millers run a small bed and breakfast down the road. It’s the only one in town. I’ll give you a ride in a minute.”

You waved him off. “That’s ok, I’ll just walk. It’ll give me the chance to take in the town.”

Jimmy eyed you doubtfully, questioning your clothing and footwear, which were clearly not suitable for the winter weather in the mountains. “If you say so, doll. You know it’s still snowing out, right?”

Five minutes later, you regretted brushing off Jimmy’s offer of a ride. Between the salt on the sidewalks, the falling snow, and the biting gusts of wind, dragging your rolling suitcase while trying to keep warm was a huge pain in the ass. That and you swore your toes were nothing more than little ice cubes attached to your feet.

When you finally reached the bed and breakfast, cleverly named the Evergreen House at Winterland, the scent of cinnamon and fresh-cut pine greeted you like an old friend. The cozy warmth of the lobby wrapped around you, the crackling fire in the hearth casting dancing shadows on the walls that mesmerized you.

Everything about this town, including its buildings and people, reminded you of Christmas. What was it like in the summer, you wondered.

“Hi there,” a friendly voice greeted you from down the hall and you glanced up to find a beautiful, dark-skinned woman walking toward you. Dressed in well-worn jeans and a thick ivory sweater, feet clad in fuzzy slippers, your own chilled, damp body quaked with jealousy over how comfortable and warm she looked. “You must be the new guest Jimmy told me to expect. I’m Maria.”

Replying with your name and a smile, you added, “I hope you have a room for me? I’m at a loss for where else to look if not.”

“Of course! We have the best room for you and plenty of food and drink to keep you sustained for as long as you need. What brings you to town?”

Maria led you up the rounded stairway as you shared the story of driving across the country and the old truck refusing to start after a delay on the highway. You spared her the details, though. She stopped in front of dark wooden door, a hand-carved sign on it reading “Blue Spruce”, and opened it to reveal a cozy sitting area and a large bed. “This is your room. We named all the rooms after Christmas trees. It was my husband’s idea – his brother owns the tree farm on the outskirts of town.”

Putting the pieces together, you asked, “Your husband is Joel’s brother?”

“You know Joel?” Maria inquired, brows arching curiously. She seemed delighted by that fact, judging by the smile slowly spreading across her lips.

“Well, yeah, I met him out on the highway. He’s the reason for the traffic jam and why I ended up here in Winterland rather than stranded somewhere else along the road.”

“Well, isn’t that serendipitous!” Maria replied with a clap of her hands. “Joel and Sarah are coming for dinner tonight. You’ll join us, of course.”

Maria’s excitement was infectious, and you smiled in return. You couldn’t help but wonder who Sarah was – a girlfriend or wife, probably, as your luck tended to go – and if Joel’s reaction to your unexpected reunion would be as enthusiastic as hers. Maria left you to get settled in and rest for a bit before dinner. You changed into something more comfortable for napping and barely laid down before something scratched at the door with a low whine.

“What in the world?” you murmured as you shuffled toward the door. A golden retriever sat waiting for you, tongue lolling and a Santa-themed bandana around its neck. “Well, hello there. Who might you be?”

The dog trotted right past you like he owned the place, and you spotted the name Barkley printed on the bandana as he went by. “Barkley, huh? The Miller family really went all in on the Christmas tree charm, didn’t they?”

Barkley jumped on the bed and whined, clearly begging you to let him nap there. Giggling softly, you shut the door and climbed back under the covers, falling asleep with Barkley snuggled right up to your side like your own personal radiator.

tbc

#hallmark christmas movie inspired #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fluff #fluff and humor #ppcu fanfiction

72 notes · View notes

theother-victoria · 3 months ago

Text

an eye for an eye

SYNOPSIS: what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn't belong?

CHARACTERS: dr ratio

TAGS: major character death, small town horror, murder mystery, 2.6k+ wc

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore

NOTES: I procrastinated real hard on this and managed to thug it out in the span of like.... four days

written for @/stellaronhvnters’ stellaween festival event! I chose the prompt skeletons

special thanks to my dearest pookie @tragedy-of-commons once again for proofreading this for me so last-minute!

It’s never a good sign when a small town ends up on the map, for one reason or another. Small towns are small for a reason. They keep to themselves, its residents living peaceful, crime-free lives and concern themselves with their own problems.

So when news of skeletons being discovered in people’s yards in a small town that isn’t even listed on the maps makes it onto national television, it takes the entire nation and even the world by storm.

It’s all people can talk about as the case unfolds. Reporters are flooding into the town until they outnumber the residents living there. With the sudden spotlight, it was revealed that the town was so small it had a police force that consisted of a handful of members and a single car. And with a police force that small, a proper forensics department was out of the question.

Hence, where you and your colleague, Veritas Ratio came in. The town council had called in for a detective and forensics team to assist with the investigation. When he saw the state the lab was in, he had sighed louder than you’d ever heard him.

“The absolute disarray of this place! Barely any equipment either! How in the world do they expect me to properly work with this lack of resources?”

You have to pointedly glare at him.

“Veritas, have you forgotten they’re painfully underfunded…? They probably had no need for police and forensics either.”

He merely clicked his tongue and glared back at you.

There’s not much that points toward a bright future for this town. It’s so isolated up in the mountains that the nearest town is an hour drive away. There’s only one stoplight and one stop sign. (Not that there was much traffic to begin with…) The largest store around is the dollar store at the end of the only street running through town. Restaurant options are equally limited. There’s a 24/7 diner that’s staffed by one person, a twitchy-looking waitress, along with some fast-food options here and there. A second-run movie theater is the only option for entertainment around here. A single-track railway with a train that only stops once per day is the only way in or out of here besides car. Coniferous and evergreen trees surround the town like a cage and it’s always foggy. Sunlight rarely peeks through the thick cloud cover and there’s a persistent smell of smoke from something burning elsewhere on the mountain. The most important building is the church located on Main Street. Sometimes, its spire is the only thing visible amidst the heavy fog and smoke.

There’s only one place for lodging- a run-down motel with a flickering neon sign and always vacant. A dingy room quickly becomes your home away from home. It always smells mildly of mold and mildew with a strong floral smell that seemed like an attempt to cover up the neglect, but failed miserably at doing so. The electricity frequently spikes or cuts out, meaning you’ve already fried the motel’s hot water kettle that you relied on for your morning coffee. The room itself looked like a relic from the past, with its yellowing pastel wallpaper, an uncomfortably lumpy mattress that the two of you are forced to share, floral sheets, and threadbare patchwork quilt. The cheap carpet looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since it was installed and the heater hacks and shudders to life like it’s on its last legs. There’s always the distant hum of fluorescent lights and it’s like a persistent itch at the back of your mind that you just can’t scratch and it’s driving you insane.

This town is unwelcoming, and so are its residents. Silence follows you and Veritas wherever you go. Shopkeepers are as rude as they can be without getting a complaint filed. When passing through a neighborhood, mothers rush to get their children inside the house and openly glare at you from their rotting porches. Witnesses were downright uncooperative during questioning, even rude at times.

This town is hiding something, and you don’t like it.

But even with the increased police presence in town and nightly neighborhood watches that have been set up, the cases kept piling up. Every morning a call would come in from a panicked resident about a fresh mound of dirt in their yard that only meant one thing. Someone would head over to dig it up and sure enough, there’d be a skeleton there. Some were yellowed with age, but most of them were new from their glistening ivory hue, Some of them were pristine while others still had bits of flesh and blood clinging to them. Forensic analysis revealed that the skeletons belonged to people of all ages too. No one was seemingly safe.

Some of these victims had been alive the day prior too. Meaning that not only were you dealing with a potential case of illegal exhumation, but also first-degree murder.

A small team of forensic scientists working with Veritas would accompany you, where they’d gather samples before heading back to the lab while you and your partner would spend the rest of the day questioning people.

But while he was in the lab, you had discovered something very interesting during questionings.

“Madam, it would be in your best interests if you would cooperate.”

You fixate the trembling woman before you with a piercing, unblinking gaze. She pointedly avoids your eyes, but you’ve always had a way with extracting information from the most uncooperative of witnesses.

“...”

“F-Fine! I’ll speak! That man was a longtime business rival of ours! He died several years ago of a heart attack, but I have no idea how he ended up in my front yard, I swear!”

So the deceased all had some connection with where- or rather, who- they were found. A victim of a greedy loan shark drowning in interest, a bitter and jealous ex-husband, and so on. It keeps popping up so often that it’s not a coincidence anymore.

Still, there’s one thing that sticks out to you.

“Were all these bodies exhumed? I noticed that cremation is almost unheard of in this town in the coroner’s reports that you sent me, despite the crematorium being conveniently located in the church and a cheaper alternative to a traditional burial,” you say one night as you’re cross-examining testimonies with newspaper clippings. Veritas looks over at you from where he sits on the bed. “Do we have a potential gravedigger on our hands?”

He pauses.

“Perhaps a visit to the town cemetery is in order.”

The next day, the both of you arrive at the cemetery soon after the gates open.

The first thing that stands out to you is how small it is. It’s smaller than the average cemetery, with very few tombstones. The only thing breaking it are the small farms here and there.

“Well, this certainly doesn’t line up with the amount of skeletons that have been discovered as of late,” you grumble as you get out of the car. Ratio nods and shields his eyes from the early morning sun that’s already beating down onto your backs.

The weathered faces of some of the tombstones as you walk by makes you pause. They’re ancient.

You shudder. You try not to think about decomposing bodies inadvertently becoming fertilizer for the farms next door…

Clearly, this town has had a long history. Perhaps it was prospering long ago. But now, it’s on the verge of becoming a ghost town with only spiteful, suspicious people left. And in a place as small as this, history must be traceable for at least several generations back.

As you walk amongst the tombstones, you notice that very few of the graves have had the earth in front of them disturbed.

“So maybe we don’t have a gravedigger after all,” you murmur as you pull out your phone. A quick phone call to the church later and you learn that yes, the church is aware of what’s been happening. No, they did not receive or approve any requests to exhume a body, much less several.

You click your tongue irritatedly after hanging up. There goes that hypothesis. It’s clear that while some bodies have been exhumed, most of them were not.

So now what?

Later that night at the 24/7 diner, you discuss your findings so far while sipping on reheated instant coffee and trying to stomach dry pancakes. The sun has already gone down and the street lights outside flicker weakly to life.

“The biggest discovery my team and I have made is that this all seems to be the work of several different people, but that was at the start of the case. There has not been anything groundbreaking since then.”

You raise an eyebrow. He senses the question in your gaze.

“Forensic testing has revealed that maceration has occurred through several different ways. Bleaching, boiling, and crude hacking are the three most common ones. There have been some attempts at more sophisticated methods, such as enzymatic and chemical maceration, but those have been crude at best. It got the job done, but the bones had severe surface damage and were shrunken. Meanwhile, some were in pristine condition and barely damaged.”

“So they know about the various techniques, but they don’t have the knowledge and experience to carry it out properly?”

He nods. “Precisely. And even within the three most common methods, there were varying degrees of success present.”

“That… certainly doesn’t seem like the work of one person.”

You sip your now-cold coffee and wince at the sour aftertaste before pulling out your findings.

“Here’s what me and my partner have discovered. The biggest thing is that every skeleton seems to have a connection to where they were found.”

“Elaborate.”

“All of them have been found in people’s yards, and it turns out the deceased had some sort of connection with the homeowner while they were alive. A bitter ex-husband, a family feud that has stretched back generations, the sole surviving member of a family that was murdered several years ago…”

You sigh. “The connections are endless. I could go on forever.”

You cast your gaze around the diner. Your nails drum against the red formica tabletops and you tap your foot absentmindedly against the checkered floors that are slightly greasy and sticky. The only other people there are a family of four with shifty eyes and the waitress that’s been here since you arrived. She jolts and looks the other way.

“For a town this small, it sure is harboring a lotta desire for revenge,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him. Your gaze lazily drifts around before landing on the lighting fixture above the bar and settles there.

…

Your eyes narrow as your tired mind begins putting the seemingly unrelated pieces together. Veritas’ sharp eyes don’t miss it.

The actions of several different people with varying degrees of success… a collective desire for revenge…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“This is just a thought but…you don’t think it’s the whole town that’s in on this, right…? I mean-”

He suddenly shushes you as he gets up. It’s only when you return to your room that he gestures for you to continue speaking.

“- I mean, the one thing unifying everything is the desire for revenge, which every resident seems to harbor a bit of,” you continue as you get ready for bed. “Cremation is an unusual option here. Most people are buried instead. But the cemetery is also surprisingly small. But why is that? The answer is that most people are not dying of natural causes. Most people are being murdered out of a desire for revenge with no hope for any sort of burial or funeral. So my earlier gravedigger hypothesis is incorrect now. Did your analysis reveal signs of skeletal trauma on some of them?”

“Many of them,” corrects Veritas.

Despite the late hour, your mind is fully awake as all the pieces finally start falling into place together.

“Relationships are messy and the residents of this town are no exception. The deceased often had multiple conflicts and grudges with other people. What I suspect happened is they were murdered and then dumped into someone’s yard that the deceased also had connections with to pin the blame on them. Which begs the question: where were the police in all of this?”

You pause to catch your breath.

“But the police mean nothing if everyone is in on it, even if unknowingly, correct? This also explains the absolute disrepair the police and forensics department are in as well.”

Veritas meets the knowing glint in your eyes.

“Let’s say that I’m the murderer. I killed you because of a grudge I bore, stripped you of your flesh until only skeletal remains are left, which I then buried in your neighbor’s yard that you also had some conflict with to pin the blame on them. The neighbor then calls the cops, but both they and the cop at the scene have done the same thing before, even though they don’t know of the other’s actions. Someone will be sentenced to jail, but they will inevitably end up getting killed by someone else for another grudge before they’re off to jail and out of reach for good. The body gets hacked away and planted into someone else’s yard and the cycle repeats. Everyone has gotten their hands dirty. There’s no way for this to be closed because everyone has played a part in it. It’s like trying to untangle a never-ending knot.”

The exhaustion of the day is beginning to catch up with you. You climb into bed next to him, shifting to avoid the lumps in the mattress that’ll give you a backache tomorrow morning.

“Revenge is a scary thing. They’ll wipe themselves out at this point,” you sleepily murmur.

Veritas doesn’t meet your gaze. You can see the gears rapidly spinning in his mind before arriving at the same conclusion.

“... It’s best if we leave as soon as possible,” is all he says.

The next morning, you authorize a search warrant on every household in town. There, they find incriminating evidence. A butcher knife and cutting board with dried human blood seeping into its cracks. A stock pot with bleach still in it. Scissors, knives, and scalpels with hardened chunks of human flesh still stuck to them. Guns, knives, and other weapons of murder.

A mass arrest is carried out to the flashing cameras and interest of the nation. You and Veritas are congratulated on your work and rewarded with a shiny promotion. You’re finally able to head home, much to your joy. You’re eager to leave that unsettling place behind for good. The case is closed and it’s time to relax before moving onto your next assignment.

At least, that’s what you had anticipated.

The town’s residents wiped themselves off the map. It’s now a ghost town. Cars rust from the assault of the elements and ivy begins to overtake the brick buildings. Shops and houses are broken into and pilfered. In a matter of weeks, the town is forgotten by the few that still remember it. The only people its shattered windows see now are curious urban explorers.

But nothing stays buried for long. Bodies, grudges, secrets. They stay buried for a reason though, until an unfortunate soul decides to wander along and unearth them to satiate their burning curiosity.

And who said grudges were confined to one region only?

So is it really that surprising when your body ends up in his yard, neatly diced up and packaged into a box, miles away from that cursed town?

An eye for an eye. That’s the town’s motto. Nothing stays buried for long.

He stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have seen. Now, they took something equally valuable from him in return.

enjoyed my work? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

#stwf : pumpkin patch!#victoria.writes #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #dr ratio #dr ratio x y/n #dr ratio x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr dr ratio #hsr fanfic

77 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 1 month ago

Text

Winter Solstice

Fandom: MCU AU. Pairing/starring: Loki x fem!reader. Word count: 3190. Content: Seasonal affective disorder, angst, fluff, smut at the end. A/N: So I thought of this seasonal fic...and then made a poll to see if it should end smuttily or not. You horny bastards (affectionately)! But fear not: there were a lot who wanted pure fluff and so there’s a warning before the smut starts so you can stop reading if you don’t want that.

Winter Solstice

Winter is dark – the sun rises at eight in the morning and sets at four in the afternoon. Winter is cold – but still not cold enough for snow except the kind that melts right away and leaves slushy heaps of grey splatter on the road where the cars have driven until that too is chased away by a new bout of rainy weather. Rain and wind. Blegh! The only comfort you can find is in lighting candles and sipping steaming tea.

It’s on one of these dark days that you’ve managed to get your self out for a walk, hoping it’ll stir up some endorphins to last you the rest of the day. Heavy boots on that can endure the mud, coat collar pulled high against the wind. You have about an hour before it’ll be dark – this is the shortest day of the year.

Then a white, fluffy flake drifts down before you, landing on the ground only to melt a moment later. Looking up, you see more snow fall from the dark clouds above, making you wish it’d stay to light up the world for a few days.

And as if to answer your prayer, the snowfall intensifies and soon everything is getting covered in a clingy layer of white, transforming the surroundings so they look almost alien to you. It’s getting colder too, allowing the flakes to turn from wet snow to the frosty and smaller kind that falls silently.

A little smile nips at your face as you take a different path than normal, entranced by the prettiness of everything.

But the snow keeps falling, denser and faster, making it hard to see your way and suddenly you don’t recognize where you are. Standing still, you listen for the sound of traffic to guide you to the bigger roads that in turn can lead you homewards.

All you can hear is the wind that’s picking up too.

Deciding to retrace your steps, you turn and trudge on but nothing looks familiar and the fork in the path you’ve followed doesn’t reappear even as darkness begins to fall.

Now you’re getting worried. The snow is stinging in your eyes, your hands are cold in your pockets and nothing seems like it should – it’s peculiar how snow can do that to a landscape.

Stopping to pull out your cellphone, you’re surprised to see that there’s no network, and as you foolhardy open the map, the GPS won’t locate you. Concern spikes in your guts and you try to calm yourself. You know you went to the west of your little town, meaning you should head east to find it again...but with the heavy clouds you have no way of discerning which way is what.

Either way, you can’t stay here. Stuffing the phone away with a shuddering sigh, you keep moving. Maybe you’ll come across someone who can help you? You don’t really believe that but it’s a faint hope to cling to as your force your breathing to slow, avoiding spiralling into hyperventilation.

Still, you feel panic creeping in as you walk. Even the plants, covered in snow, look weird now but you know it’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

Eventually, after what feels like hours in increasingly harder terrain, you come to a patch of dense evergreens, firs and pines that shield against what is turning into a veritable snowstorm and loom in the darkness. You don’t recall anything like this in your area that mainly consists of fields or trees like asp and oak. Something warns you against stepping in between the trees but you can’t stay out in the open any longer and underneath the trees are patches of shelter where no snow has made its way yet.

Seeking out one of those spots, you check your phone one more time to no avail. Then you hunker down. You’re tired from walking and your eyes feel strained from having tried to make out anything familiar through the snow. So you lean against the trunk and close your eyes for just a minute, promising yourself not to cry at your situation.

---

The world is moving. Wind is whipping against your face even if you’re tugged in against some sort of leathery surface. Tilting your head, you look through the snow and see the jaw and chin of someone above you. You’re vaguely aware that you should be worried now but you’re tired and cold. Again, you close your eyes and allow the rhythmic movement to lull you.

---

There are soft voices murmuring nearby, speaking a language you are not familiar with.

Opening your eyes, you see a silken canopy above where you’re lying: emerald green with golden embroideries held aloft by black wood carved to looks like tree trunks.

Looking around further, you’re vaguely aware of a grand room with a crackling fireplace but your eyes are captivated by the man standing by the door, speaking with someone beyond the room: black hair and pale skin. Jaw and cheekbone that could have been cut from marble and matches his stature. He’s tall. He’s hot. Leather and silk adorn his frame and he oozes authority. Then suddenly he looks to you and his eyes drill into your very soul, making you freeze up.

Closing the door with a crooked smile, he comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, a hand partially reaching for you before falling to the top of the fur that covers the mound you’re under. He says something you don’t understand.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand you,” you manage to mumble.

Cocking his head, he seems genuinely surprised. “You are from Midgard,” he says, more to himself than to you, “how did you come here? What is your name?”

“No, I’m from...wait...” Old memories about mythology lessons and books you’ve read come to mind. “Where am I?”

“You first,” he shakes his head.

Uncertain what he expects, you tell him where you come from and your name which he repeats. You like the way it sounds when he says it.

“I found you in the snowstorm...purely by chance but it was your luck or you would surely have frozen to death,” the man explains, “I have taken you with me to Valhalla here in Asgard. My name is Loki.”

You gape at him. You can’t help it. “How?” you just ask, knowing instinctively that he isn’t lying.

“That is what I would like to know too.”

Explaining anything is hard, but you try your best, causing him to look pensive.

“There are passages between our worlds. Most have been closed or are guarded...but it seems you have stumbled through one that no one knew of,” he ventures. “Perhaps it is related to the winter solstice?” You’re not sure what to say to that, so you just stay quiet as he thinks. “The magics are stronger at times like these...the Norns must be amused by this.”

You vaguely recall that the Norns are fate-stitchers of Nordic mythology but you hope they haven’t done this on purpose although...you have to school your features as you realize what you were about to think: you don’t mind sitting here in the company of this handsome stranger. Loki.

“I shall ensure to bring you home but not tonight,” he says, making you frown, “now that you are here, you may as well be treated to the full experience and partake in our yuletide feast.”

Grabbing your hand, he firmly guides you out of bed and looks you over. Looking down at yourself too, you realize that he’s gotten then rain pants and your coat off you so you’re just standing in woolly socks, leggings, and the oversized sweater. But then he flicks his fingers and a golden shimmer envelops you and before your eyes your clothes transform to a gorgeous dress of the same green as above the bed with golden embroideries. Sheer fabric hugs your arms and shoulders before turning opaque as it travels over your chest and all the way to the floor.

“Much better,” he smiles appreciatively.

“How...?”

He grins. “Oh, but you know already.”

And you do: magic.

Guiding you by the shoulders, Loki turns you to a mirror where you can admire your new look before you finally remember your manners and thank him profusely.

“I do not ask for much in return,” he smiles. Bending down he whispers in your ear: “Just be my princess at the feast.”

Something warm settles in your guts and you nod without hesitation.

---

The hall for the feast is massive, the ceiling high above kept aloft with large pillars in a mix of stone and wood that in turn are decorated with the green of spruce with candles flickering merrily while no one seems to worry about the fire hazard, and from them baubles of gold and vermilion hang in silken threads, swaying gently whenever someone passes. Great fire pits are laid into the stone floor, roaring with burning logs to keep the grand hall warm for all the people seated at the long tables.

The feast is loud and busy and you are introduced to people you, until a few hours ago, only believed to be part of mythology. Made up stories that had brought an ancient people together. But now...now you’re dining with them, drinking with them. Dressed like you and Loki, they are friendly and boisterous, often proposing toasts by shouting out the word “skål”.

Sitting by the high table, you hardly can concentrate to eat of the delicious food for sheer nerves and because you are all too distracted by everything, but Loki manages to get both food and drink into you and it does your well. You’re warm, your belly is full and the mead is singing in your blood.

“Dance with me?” Loki asks suddenly and doesn’t wait for your answer before sweeping you out on the floor.

He leads you effortlessly and for the first time in your life you feel as though you can move properly to the music even if it’s foreign to you. Following his steps, you twirl and dip, soon out of breath as a bright smile splits your face.

“Ravishing,” he purrs in your ear as he pulls you closer. Heat rushes to your face and you almost miss a step. “Perhaps I should keep you here?”

Some part of your logical thinking that still works immediately begins to explain to you why you can’t but your heart is singing with joy at his words.

Loki has been the perfect date: charming, attentive, intelligent...and yes, handsome too. You are thoroughly smitten by him and while you don’t quite get why he’s lavishing all his attention onto you, you’re not one to complain.

“When we celebrate the winter solstice,” Loki murmurs against your cheek, “we celebrate the shifting of the seasons, that the sun will return – win its battle over the darkness of winter.” He pulls back briefly to meet your gaze. A mix of green, blue and grey swallows you. “I am a child of the winter. I like the cold and the dark,” he admits, “yet now...now I have found the sun I wish to greet with joy.”

Bringing your hand to his lips, he kisses your fingers gently and something sparkles when he retracts from the touch: a thin golden band with a single emerald glistens in the light.

“Loki...” you don’t know what to say.

“It is my thanks to you. Should you think of me and wish me near, you need only twist the ring and I shall come for you,” he smiles softly before his gaze flicks to something or someone behind you and he nods.

---

Turning over in your bed, you brain is full of music and your heart swells at the memories. Wait. Your bed? Sitting up with a shock, you look around to find that you’re home.

Was it all a dream?

Heartbroken, you push the cover aside but catch a warm glimmer in the corner of your eye and as you look down on your hand, you see the ring. Gold and emerald. Hard and real. No, nothing had been a dream and resolutely you grasp the ring, twisting it around your finger before rushing to the window and pushing the curtain aside.

Outside, wet snow is falling, partially melting where it lands. It might be noon but it’s dark enough that you’d need a light to read by.

You don’t know what you’d expected...but the silent nothing that happens is too much to bear. There’s no one and you feel your heart slowly crumbling as you step backwards only to collide with something.

“My sun,” a voice purrs and your heart leaps, suddenly whole again.

Turning, you look up at Loki who smiles at you, his arms enveloping your figure just like you reach to curls your fingers into his hair and tug him closer so your lips can meet for the first time.

[Smut incoming!]

It’s not light and chaste. It’s devouring. Pulling you flush against him, Loki possesses your body from that moment as you gladly give in, allowing his tongue to sweep past your lips and tangle with yours. A tiny whimper escapes your chest and he growls in return, lips curling into a smile even as he doesn’t part from you. One of his hands glides up your back and come to rest at the nape of your neck, tickling slightly and eliciting goosebumps to run down your spine.

It’s divine.

And you want more.

Slowly, you begin to walk him backwards to the bed, causing him to bump into it and lose his balance. Feeling victorious and brave you follow, straddling him.

“My my,” he purrs, “someone is bold.”

You seek out his lips, shutting him up with a kiss before you start second questioning yourself.

Grabbing your hips, Loki grinds up against you, allowing you to feel a hard bulge that rubs tauntingly against your clothed cunt and makes you gasp.

“This won’t do at all,” the god growls, snapping his fingers.

In a golden shimmer yours and his clothes disintegrate, allowing you to admire his body: long and lean, with muscles that coil and bulge with every movement as he reaches to push your upright and you involuntarily move to cover your breasts and crotch.

“Let me see you,” he begs, softly moving your arms aside.

His gaze is both soft and hungry as he looks at you. Pupils widening along with his smile, you’re convinced he likes what he sees...if for no other reason then the insisting nudging of his erection beneath you.

“So beautiful,” you whispers in awe. Allowing his hands to shift to your waist, he slide along the curve of your hips, your thighs. “Move up,” he orders, lust dripping from the two simple words.

“What?”

But he’s already pulling at you, getting you to shift to kneeling over his face so he can place a kiss onto your clit before licking a broad stripe along your folds. You’re already wet and Loki hums in delight, smacking his lips as if it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted...and judging by how he dives in he might be a man starved.

Never have you been with anyone this good: it takes him only a few moments before you’re a moaning mess with shaking legs and still he doesn’t relent. Suckling on your clit, his tongue flicks it repeatedly only to stray now and then to enter you, licking up your juices and feeling the flutter of your cunt when he enters. You’re seeing double and your fingers are buried in his hair – every time you tug at the strands, he growls and the vibrations travel to your very core that’s clenching hard, ready to snap at any moment.

“Cum,” he growls against your cunt.

And you do. With a shout, your back arches as raw bliss rocks you. It steals your breath away. Up and down doesn’t make sense anymore as you feel your world tumble around you.

No wait...the world has moved and you’re on your back with Loki above you and his hips are slotted against yours as he slowly sinks his cock into your heat, causing new ripples to rush through you. You can’t help how your knees rise to hold him and your nails dig into his back. Can’t help how you keen loudly as your cunt flutters around his cock for a second before gripping him tight and pulling him deeper.

The god groans, his forehead against yours and his hair a wild mess that cascades around your faces.

When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue and it makes you wonder how he’d taste. But then he rocks his hips and you forget everything else than the drag of his cock inside you. You don’t believe in fate or soulmates...but you have to fuzzily acknowledge that he fits you perfectly: dragging along your sweet spot, the tip of his crown just kisses your cervix in a way that borders painful but just exactly isn’t. It’s addictive.

Breaking free of the kiss, you gasp for air, your entire body thrumming with the new build-up, making you rock your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Too good to me,” he gasps in between the kisses and bites he bestows along your neck and shoulder.

Pushing himself up, the man brings your legs onto his shoulders in a manner that has your cunt squeezing him and allowing him to rut into you at a renewed pace.

“Touch yourself,” he groans.

You start with your breasts but he grabs your hand and shoves it between your legs and who are you to argue? Eager, your fingers find your clit and start circling, winding you even tighter.

“So close,” you gasp.”

“Yes,” he growls, “cum for me.”

Pressing a bit harder, you increase the pace and focus on the feeling of Loki’s cock pistonning in and out of you.

That does it. With a silent scream, you topple over the edge once more, body locking up as the hot quakes of your orgasm rolls through you. Your cunt clamps down tightly onto Loki and his hips stutter as he rams as deep into you as he can and releases with a shout.

He keeps rocking slowly, riding out both of your highs and prolonging them until you beg for him to stop. Then he slowly pulls out with a hiss and collapses next to you in the bed. His hand finds yours, fingers interlocking.

It takes a while before any of you can do anything but try to catch your breath.

But eventually you turn to look at him: “Will you always come when I twist the ring?”

“I may not be able to arrive as swiftly, but yes.”

You turn to the side, free hand splaying on his chest where you can feel his heartbeat. “But you’ll stay for a bit now?”

“If you will have me? You are my sun...I need you.”

“I’ll have you,” you smile.

#fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #loki x reader #loki #marvel #x reader #mcu #fanfic #writing #angst #smut #fluff #mcu loki #loki marvel

33 notes · View notes