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maddieautobot273 · 8 months ago

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Silk & Cologne (59)

A Miguel O'hara x OC fanfiction series - link to AO3 (X)

Chapter 59: Seoul - previous chapter (X)

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x Female! Spidersona OC

Words: 5.5K+ words

Warning: PG mentions of past trauma

Summary: Lisa and Miguel arrive in Seoul and meet her step-family.

******

The flight was long, but the various amenities the plane provided helped pass the time. An expansive movie and TV selection, cocktail bar, dinner, dessert, and breakfast, it was like a dream. But my favourite moments were when Miguel and I talked. Our bed was folded out in our cabin, we had changed into our complimentary and very cozy pajamas and while snuggled under the blanket we just talked.

“Tell me about your family in Korea.” Miguel encouraged me with a gentle smile, his hand reaching across the bed and taking my hand, his thumb brushing my skin. “Anything at all.”

So I did. I told him all about my step-father’s family, rambling on about distant cousins, aunts and uncles, but mostly my grandparents. I was nervous, not wanting to overwhelm him with this gigantic info dump on my family’s story, but Miguel squeezed my hand as he listened to every single bit, and even asked questions.

“My harabeoji, my grandfather served and worked in Korea’s military after studying law and business in university. After his service, he started a business with some friends and he got really lucky and they ended up selling it and became millionaires overnight. But he didn’t let the money change him, and that’s probably what I admire about him most. Instead of retiring, he helped organize and run various charities in Korea and across Asia and that’s how he met my grandma, halmeoni.

“She was a school teacher while writing her thesis to improve the school system for disabled students. Nobody gave her the time of day, but grandpa heard about her from a friend and reached out to her. He approved her research and helped her raise funds, and they ended up opening a new school, with smaller class sizes and more one-on-one time with each student to figure out their needs to succeed. The rest was history.”

“They sound wonderful.” Miguel smiled softly, turning over on his side to look at me properly, his body blocking the view and what little light that came from the small window on the side of our cabin.

I nodded in agreement. “Grandma taught me a lot about looking out and standing up for others, self meditation. . . she also knows how to make a mean kimchi.” I chuckle softly with a wink.

“I’d love to try it.” Miguel grinned, one of his fangs poking out.

We stared at each other in silence for a while, content in each other's presence. My mind began to wander, and my gaze quickly followed as I looked over to the side, not exactly staring at anything in particular.

Miguel caught on right away as his grip on my hand tightened ever so slightly, squeezing my fingers. “What is it?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. It’s kind of stupid, actually.”

“Nothing you have to say is stupid.” Miguel reassured me, dragging my hand across the mattress to his chin as he leaned down and kissed my knuckles. “Talk to me, Lisa.”

“It’s just. . .” My gaze trailed off, avoiding his gaze for a second before I willed myself to look at him. “If he had such great parents. . . what went wrong?”

“Mona. . .” Miguel called softly, his expression falling into a soft frown.

“Why would he act in a way that’s the complete opposite of what they stood for?” I spoke, coming out as asking Miguel, but really I was asking myself.

I had been for a while.

“Hey.” Miguel reached for me and gently pulled me closer, the heat of his body engulfing me as he held me against this chest. His hand ran up and combed through my hair in a soothing gesture as he looked into my eyes. “We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

My eyes turned soft as I looked at him. “Okay. . .”

Miguel’s face inched closer and I met him half way. We kissed until I fell asleep in his arms.

********

“Thank you for flying with us! Enjoy your stay!”

Miguel and I got off the plane and navigated our way through the terminal to baggage claim and the arrival gate. I didn’t remember it being so busy, nearly shoulder to shoulder with one another as we walked through small halls and tight corners. It seemed everyone had somewhere to be today. But Miguel kept me close, and in the event we did get separated, albeit briefly, Miguel was the tallest guy around, so it was easy to spot him.

Some passersby even noticed and took a moment to simply stare in awe. One kid even dropped his candy bar. He couldn't look away. He called Miguel a giant and his mothers quickly scooped him up in his arms, apologizing profusely. Miguel reassured that there was no harm done, and the mother was even more surprised when he responded in Korean. Miguel asked for directions to baggage claim and the kind woman pointed us in the right direction.

“You never told me you knew Korean.” I smirked up at him, taking his hand in mine as we passed through the doors.

“When you’re CEO of a multi-trillion dollar company, it doesn’t hurt to pick up a language or two.” Miguel smirked back with a knowing look.

It was almost strange looking at Miguel and picturing him as a CEO. Suit and tie, sitting at a desk in an office, attending board room meetings, riding fancy cars, and going to all these special events. Okay, maybe I can with the car, and he does look good in a suit. Exhibit A) Our first date.

We found baggage claim and picked up our suitcases, dragging them along as we passed through the arrival gate and were greeted by a sea of people waiting behind the metal railing. Some had their phones out, holding up signs and posters. One moment, everyone was quietly murmuring, and then the next, people started cheering.

“What’s going on?” Miguel asked as he recovered from flinching, his shoulders hunched as the screaming started. “They don’t greet everyone like this do they?”

I placed a steady hand on his back as I glanced over to see a group of guys walk out after us, all clad in black and wearing face masks to cover their face. But that didn’t stop all these people from waving and cheering them on as one fan aggressively waved their poster that said “WELCOME HOME!”

“Aaah, now I remember. A lot of fans like to camp out at the arrival gate to welcome back their favourite idols coming back from a tour.” I smiled a little at the memories of some of my old dancer partners sharing stories of their own experiences back at boot camp. “I think that group is. . . oh, wow ATEEZ. I didn’t even know they were on tour.”

I wasn’t too familiar with their songs, but I was a fan of their track ‘Wonderland’. I was more of a Stray Kids and BTS kind of girl. As for the girl groups themselves, I think when you look at the black and pink aesthetic of my spider suit, I think it’s rather obvious.

“They literally sit there and wait for them to show up?” Miguel asked, a mixture of intrigue and discomfort on his face as we walked away from the scene.

“For hours at a time. Snacks and drinks to boot too.” I patted his back gently once we were far enough away from the bulk of the crowd and pulled away.

“So how are we getting to your family’s house?” Miguel glanced down at me. “Want me to rent us a car?”

“Nah, it’s fine, I can get us an Uber, I have some extra credit on me.” I sighed as I pulled out my phone and opened the app. “I do not want to wait in another long line.”

I was typing in their address when I heard another scream. I ignored it, initially thinking it was another crazed fan that got there late to try and greet the band. But then I heard them stammering, as if they were running and when I listened more closely, the voice didn’t sound like a young girl, but like an older woman. I tilted my head up, looking out in the crowd and noticed a pair of balloons floating above the heads of the busy bodies, going in a zig zag as if someone was trying to navigate around them.

“Something wrong?” Miguel could sense immediately my shift in behavior when I stopped suddenly and he came to a halt, reaching for me as if ready to pull me to his side at the first sign of trouble.

That’s when I saw her.

Springing out from a cluster of people was an elderly woman in her late 60’s, early 70’s, but judging by the way she was running and now jumping for joy, you would have thought she was acting someone in their prime. Her black-gray bob cut bounced as she ran, and she nearly dropped her burgundy hat as she approached us in a over the knee length black and white striped cotton dress with black birkenstock sandals and a fanny pack over her shoulder.

“Lisa-Lisa!” My grandmother cheered.

Tears swelled in my eyes after hearing my name fall from her lips and I dropped my bag on the floor as she closed in on me. “Halmeoni!” I wrapped my arms around her, my head buried into her hair as she was a few inches shorter than me.

“Oh we’re so happy to see you! Come now, let me look at you!” She beamed as she pulled back, hands on my face. Grandma looked me over top to bottom, a happy expression and proud smile on her face as she did so. “How was your flight? Did you get enough to eat on the plane? Aya, those inflight meals are always so small!”

“Don’t crowd her, you’re making her nervous.” Another voice, an elderly man called out to her. The man stepped out of the crowd, carrying the strings of the balloons in his hand as he approached us. He offered me a kind smile with the tilt of his head. “Annyeong, Lisa.” - Hello

“Annyeong harabeoji.” I greeted warmly as my grandma stepped back. - Hello grandpa

“You must be Miguel!” My grandmother beamed with excitement as she offered her hand and Miguel gently took and offered a nice, firm handshake. “Janet told us much about you from her visit to New York.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Miguel smiled back, offering her a polite smile.

“Not that we’re not happy to see you, what are you two doing here?” I asked them as I picked my bag back up from the floor. “We could have taken an Uber.”

“Oh we wanted to surprise you, Tokki!” My grandma smiled brightly. “We’re here to drive you to the family house.” - bunny

I could see the teasing side glance Miguel was giving me at the corner of my eye, along with the one sided grin. “Tokki?”

“What about it?” I playfully glared back at him.

“Oh, it’s a wonderful pet name, isn’t it?” Grandma’s smile was infectious despite my best efforts to not mimic it.

“Does it have something to do with you not staying still?” Miguel gave me a knowing look, his eyes roaming over me to try and get a rise out of me.

My cheeks flushed and I nearly snapped, about to call him out that my grandparents were right there. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smack him or kiss him. Maybe both for good measure.

“You are a smart one, Miguel!” Grandma gasped in awe, even doing a little clap. “At first I thought Janet was exaggerating a little, but you are every bit as phenomenal as she said you were!”

Miguel chuckled softly as he sauntered closer to my side, wrapping an arm around me. “I aim to please, Miss–?”

“Oh, you can call me Grandma Park.” Grandma politely reintroduced herself.

“The car is outside. Traffic is always awful around this time, so we should get going while we can.” Grandpa handed me the balloons with a kind smile and even reached for my suitcase.

“Oh, thank you grandpa, but I can carry that.” I insisted softly as I reached to ask for it back. “What about your arthritis?”

“Nonsense my dear, I want you to relax. I’m sure you’ve had a long flight.” He spoke nonchalantly as we walked through the terminal. “I want to make this journey as simple as possible for you.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Miguel’s hand gently squeezed my shoulder as I turned to look up at him, and we shared a playful glimmer in each other's eyes.

“I’m not aware of your living situation back home, but I’ve had a guest room prepared for you, Miguel.” Grandma Park explained as she looked Miguel over, fully taking him in. “Although now that I can get a good look at you, I’m worried the bed may be too small for you.”

“It’s quite alright, Grandma Park, I’ll make do. No need to trouble yourself.” Miguel reassured her gently. “But I appreciate the concern.”

“I understand that sometimes certain things are done differently in the Americas, but forgive me if we’re a more. . . traditional household.” She added as we passed through the exit gates and stepped out into the cool spring breeze.

‘Is she implying what I think she’s implying?’ Miguel’s voice fluttered into my head through the physic-spider bond.

I held back a smirk as I responded. ‘Yes. Unless we’re married, no sleeping together in the same room.’

‘Aww, are you sure? I’d be more than willing to prove my self control. Your grandma can stitch up the bedsheets around me so I can’t cuddle you.’ Miguel’s hand carefully fell from my shoulder and delicately draped down my spine to rest on the small of my back. ‘Or touch you.’

My cheeks blushed a bright red as I went to elbow Miguel but missed. I nearly stumbled in my steps, gasping as a hand went up to my mouth. My grandparents turned towards me and my cheeks flushed darker.

“Lisa, are you alright?” Grandpa asked.

“Oh, I’m fine!” I coughed into my hand, clearing my throat as Miguel stood there and pretended he didn’t just take advantage of our physic bond and made it his mission to absolutely fluster me in front of my grandparents and make a fool out of myself. “Just caught a sneeze.”

Grandpa hummed deeply as he looked around. “There has been an uptick in pollen allergies this spring.”

“Here Tokki, I brought an extra mask.” Grandma park dug around in her fanny pack and pulled out the disposable mask and handed it to me. “Wear it just in case until we get to the house, I’ll make you some tea when we get there.”

With a defeated smile I accepted the mask from her. “Thank you, grandma.”

“Where is– Ah! There’s the car.” Grandpa pointed out in a direction further down the arrival gate parking lane and led the way down.

I tore through the packaging and slipped the mask over my face. Once it was on, I made sure grandma and grandpa weren’t looking before I reached up and pinched Miguel’s arm. I could see his pupils go wide, eyebrows rising as he shot me a look.

My eyes spoke volumes as the mask hid my face, and I spoke through the bond. ‘Behave, Miguel~’

‘I’m always on my best behavior.’ he replied with a roll of his eyes. His gaze softened quickly after. ‘Are you alright, though? Was that. . . too much?’

I thought about it, and my mind immediately reeled back to the conversation we had during dinner with my mom before my Marvel Day show. There’s been a spare intimate touch here and there, and we have been just sleeping together, but other than that, we haven’t really gone any further than sweet little make out sessions. Even during that, Miguel kept things respectful and never tried to push or pressure me.

That interaction just now. . . It was risque, yes, but somehow. . . it felt normal.

‘It was okay. I’m okay.’ I reassured him as we approached my grandparents car.

It was only then did I notice that they had a personal driver?!

There was a man maybe 20 years younger than my grandparents wearing a black trench coat and paperboy cap as he opened the car door, a Mercedes Benz truck and prepared our luggage for the trunk.

“Do you have a personal driver now?” I gawked in surprise.

What exactly happened the last 2 years I was gone?!

“Jin would often help and drive us around when we need him, but since he started going through therapy and his exercises, and your harabeoji’s arthritis is acting up again, we encouraged him to take a break so we hired our own driver.” Grandma Park explained before introducing the driver to us. “This is Ha Joon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Ha Joon greeted us with a curt bow of his head. “If you ever require my services, I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you, we’ll certainly keep that in mind.” Miguel offered him a polite smile and bowed his head towards him in turn.

I was relieved Miguel seemed to be taking all of this rather well. I was worried he’d be a nervous wreck during the whole trip as soon as we got off the plane, but other than the slight scare of screaming fans at the arrival gate, he seemed to be handling himself well. Unless he’s somehow masking it insanely better than I can try to hide my emotions around him and he’s holding it all in for my sake.

“Remember now, Lisa, it will be a long drive from here to Gangnam. Do you and Miguel need anything before we go?” Grandma Park asked as she looked between us.

My eyes met Miguel, and he too seemed to ask a silent question in his eyes. Are you ready to go see him?

Taking a deep breath, I met my grandmother’s gaze and shook my head. “No, I think we’re ready to go!”

“Splendid!” Grandma Park applauded us. “Let’s not waste time now.”

We all climbed into the truck, grandpa sitting up front with their driver Ha Joon while grandma sat in the back row and Miguel and I took the middle seats. This was a lot different than the last car I recalled them owning. It almost reminded me of a more domestic version of Miguel’s Ferrari, the interior alone screamed sleek and chic.

The car ride from the airport to my grandparent’s home was almost 2 hours, and over the course of the journey we all made small talk, and due to the heat, Ha Joon pulled over into a popular dessert cafe and grandpa got us all ice cream to cool off. Miguel would occasionally glance at his gizmo, and I had assumed he was exchanging messages with Lyla, Peter B., and Jessica to make sure things were going smoothly back in his dimension. Miguel asked my grandma about the Gangnam district and how long they had lived there, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Oh we bought this house and moved in just after Jin and Janet married. We got lucky and managed to snag it for $2.4 million!” Grandma Park answered him with a proud smile.

“Only?” He looked at her in surprise, I couldn’t tell if he was faking it for her sake or being genuine.

“Yes! We’re very blessed to have it and I don’t take it for granted every day, and when Lisa finally came over and visited us for the first time that one Christmas I was over the moon!”

Gangnam may not be Hannam-Dong, the most rich and elite and also gated community neighborhood in the country, but owning a home in Gangnam was nothing to scoff at. Gangnam was considered one of, if not the most upscale and modern districts in Seoul. They had everything from nightclubs, high end restaurants, cafes, bistros, and gleaming skyscrapers. My grandma’s favourite thing about living there was the boutiques and shopping malls.

“I can admit it, I may have developed a little shopping habit after we moved here, but they have everything!” Grandma Park laughs sweetly. “I loved taking Lisa there and spoiling her there.”

“If we have time, I’d love to see everything.” Miguel smiled at her, a friendly gleam in his eyes.

“Of course, I’d love to show you around, Miguel! We can all go later today and get you some clothes to go with dinner tomorrow night!” She beamed.

“Are we not having the family dinner at the house?” I asked her, appearing confused.

I was still getting comfortable with the idea of even sitting at a table with my step-father again for the first time in so long. What would the seating arrangements look like? Would I have to sit next to him? If we’re eating out, it might help ease my nerves a little. But what if he said something that would upset me? Would I risk causing a scene and leaving everyone at the restaurant?

“Oh we are, but knowing your grandmother she likes to make these events extra special.” Grandpa smiled as he casted his wife a knowing look.

“Well of course it’s a big deal! Lisa is back after being away for so long.” Grandma Park cooed as she looked at me with a soft expression. “We missed you terribly, Tokki.”

“I missed you too.” I smiled softly before my expression fell in a small frown. “I’m. . . I’m sorry for not really contacting you all after, well, everything. . .”

“Oh, Lisa, we understand. You were going through so much.” Grandma Park reassured me softly as she set her ice cream cup aside and gently took her hands in mine. “We had thought on countless occasions to reach out to you but after talking with Janet we didn’t want to make you feel as if we were pressuring you. You needed time to heal. Truth be told. . . we all did.”

I glanced over at Miguel who stayed silent through the whole thing, watching us all as he gave me a comforting smile, encouraging me to go on. I looked back at my grandmother. “Still, I cut contact with you due to mere association. That. . . that was a little harsh of me to do.”

“You were protecting yourself, Tokki. You had no way of knowing if we knew about his behavior and how it affected you.” Grandma Park squeezed my hand tightly, her eyes pouring into mine. “Gwaenchanh-a.” - It’s alright.

My gaze softened as I listened to her and suddenly my vision went blurry. I raised a hand to gently wipe the tears from my eyes and I heard movement as I opened my eyes to see not just Miguel, but my grandma as well offered me napkins to dry my tears. We all looked at each other before my grandma erupted with laughter and then Miguel and I followed quickly after, all the while my grandpa watched on with a soft smile.

Before I even knew it, we arrived at the Park Estate in Gangnam. There’s an iron gate that opens up after detecting the car’s presence before going up a long private driveway before parking across from the garage. The house was on a long narrow stretch of well trimmed grass with faded cobblestone steps meshed into the ground leading to the main stairwell. The house itself looked like a few giant white building blocks smushed together, with giant windows allowing plenty of natural light in. There were two main floors, plus the basement level, but if I learned anything from Doctor Who and the Tardis, what looks small on the outside, is actually quite larger on the inside.

Upon entering through the main door, the door bell chimes a cute little tune, announcing our arrival. As Miguel and I set our bags down, high pitched yapping catches my ear as I look over and see a white fluffy cloud with paws come barreling towards us.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you!” Grandma Park laughed as she scooped up the furball in her hands and brought the snow white pomeranian closer towards me. “This is Pom Pom, the newest addition to our family.”

“She’s so cute!” I smiled brightly as I gently scratched her behind the ears.

“Jin’s therapist suggested it last year, to try and uplift his spirits and help him reintroduce the concept of taking care of another living thing under his care in a positive environment. I’d say it’s helped him quite well.” She explained.

“He’s been taking care of her?” I asked curiously.

If it wasn’t for the gap between the events of what happened, I’d wouldn’t know exactly how to feel about my step-father caring for another living creature after what he put me through.

“Oh yes, they’re nearly inseparable.” She insisted before gently putting the dog down, and Pom Pom immediately scampered over to Miguel, smelling his feet.

“Uh, nice– Pom Pom?” Miguel tensed up, trying not to move as he looked down at the door.

“It’s alright, she is just curious. She’s very friendly once she’s warmed up to new people.” Grandma Park reassured him before glancing over towards Grandpa. “Show them to their rooms and I’ll get started on the tea.”

Grandpa nodded as we all watched Grandma Park hurry along, Pom Pom following her at the heel. “Do you remember the layout, Lisa?”

“It’s been a while, but everything is starting to come back to me.” I answer honestly as I take in the interior of my once second home.

The walls were a bright monochrome white with wooden shelving. Although I don’t remember it being so blinding to my eyes. Grandpa led the way as Miguel and I took our bags upstairs. Grandpa showed Miguel his room, and I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at seeing the bed and realizing what grandma said was right. It was a tad small for Miguel. Just looking at it I could tell his feet, and parts of his legs would be dangling from the edge of the mattress.

“You’re sure you can make do with that?” I asked him with a soft smirk.

“I’ve slept on much worse, don’t patronize me.” He scoffed back with a grin.

I raised my hands in defeat. “Alright tough guy.”

I let Miguel get settled in and unpack his stuff as grandpa led me down the hall to a familiar door at the end and opened it. My old room. It was just how I left it after leaving that summer. Grandma and grandpa let me stay with them for a few days to recover after the surgery and as soon as I was well enough to walk on my own and manage lifting things without intense pain, I packed my things and flew back to Toronto.

Only difference now, most of the K-Pop posters and ads for the company I went to the boot camp for were torn down from the walls. All except my posters of BLACK PINK. I smiled a little at that.

“Your grandma took the posters down, worried they might be considered a trigger.” Grandpa explained with a nervous rub of his neck. “But I convinced her to keep these ones up. We knew this group was your favourite growing up.”

“They still are. Thank you grandpa.” I smiled warmly at him.

“I’ll let you have a moment to unpack and settle. We’ll call you down when the tea is ready.” Grandpa nodded back at me with a kind smile as he reached for the door. As he was leaving, he stopped, the door creaking as he peeked around the corner and offered me the kindest smile I’d ever seen him show. “We really are happy to have you here with us. We missed you, Lisa.”

“I missed you too, grandpa.” My smile brightened a little more. “I’m happy to be here.”

Now to just convince myself that it truly was 100% the truth.

Grandpa gave me one more nod before shutting the door behind him, his footsteps fading as he walked away. I took a moment to breathe and sat on top of my suitcase and looked around. I just sat there and looked at my room, perfectly clean, no dust.

They really did want me to come back.

I felt a tear race down my cheek as I suddenly got goosebumps along my arms, and a chill up my spine. Like I got the feeling I was being watched somehow. I took a breath, convincing myself it was my nerves talking. I stood up and pulled my suitcase up to my bed and had barely started to unpack when there was a knock at my door.

So much for the nerves.

“Come in.” I spoke up, my heart fluttering nervously.

The door creaked open and I withheld a sigh of relief when Miguel walked in. “Your grandma really pulled out all of the stops.”

“What did she do?” I asked him curiously as I organized my clothes.

“She had a bathrobe custom tailored to my size. It’s softer than the pajamas we got on the plane!” He exclaimed in surprise, sitting at the edge of my bed.

“She likes to spoil.” I commented with a faint smirk, recalling old memories as I started putting away my clothes in my old dresser.

I could feel Miguel’s gaze on me and the urge to talk to me, to ask me over a dozen questions that must be fluttering around in that big brain of his. He stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he looked around.

“So this was your room, eh?” A soft smile was on his face as he glanced over, eyeing one of my posters.

“Whenever I wasn’t working overtime at camp, my grandparents invited me to stay here with them on weekends. It. . . was kind of a sanctuary.” I admitted softly as I glanced his way.

“I can imagine.” Miguel nodded with a knowing look, and it didn’t take me long to realize he was thinking about our past conversation on the balcony at Spider Society HQ. The talk where I admitted all the hardships I– that Jin put me through.

“I don’t recall you having this many posters of them back in New York.” Miguel teased as he motioned his head over to one of my BLACK PINK posters. “They really are a favourite of yours?”

“Only the greatest girl group I’ve ever heard.” I smirked confidently as I stepped away from the bed and came to Miguel’s side.

“What are their names?” He asked. “You’ve never mentioned it to me before.”

I raised a curious brow towards Miguel. Why now of all times would he ask me that? Was it to distract me? To keep me calm? Not that I was complaining per say. I’d love to share one of my interests with him if he wanted to.

“There’s Jisoo, Rosé, Jennie, and Lisa.” I pointed them all out with a big smile.

“I take it Lisa is your favourite?” Miguel asked me with a knowing smirk, an arm wrapped around my waist. “Sorry, bias I believe is the term?”

“You’re learning!” My eyes lit up in surprise as I applauded Miguel. “Yes, she is. Nicely done.”

“Is it because you share the same name?” He teased softly, looking down at me.

I laughed at his teasing, shaking my head. “The most obvious reason, sure, but it’s more to it than that. She’s–”

My gaze wandered as I started to ramble before I stopped suddenly. My gaze fell upon the window, peering through the glass and landing on a figure in the backyard garden of the estate.

“Lisa?” Miguel’s voice called out to me, and I found myself moving free from his hold. “Something wrong?”

I walked over to the window and looked out fully into the garden and that’s when I saw him.

Jin Park sat on a stone bench in the garden, wearing a traditional robe and drinking what looked like green tea from a cup. Pom Pom came running outside towards him, her yapping loud but slightly muffled from my place on the second floor. There was a smile on his face as he knelt down from the bench, his tea cup in one hand as he lowered the other to pet Pom Pom’s head.

His gaze flickered up and we locked eyes.

My heart skipped a beat and I found myself to be as frozen as a statue. Sensing my shift, Miguel stepped over to my side.

“What is it?” His gaze followed mine through the window and that’s when he saw him. “Is that him?”

“Step-father. . .” I uttered.

Miguel’s hand returned to my waist, squeezing it tightly and through the bond I could sense his cold, near bombastic glare towards Jin.

He waved at me, but in that moment, I found myself unable to move, let alone wave back.

******

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sophia-the-green-witch · 7 months ago

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☀️ Midsummer (2024)

This midsummer was a particularly good one for me. I felt called back to my practice by Thor just in time to celebrate midsummer and so, I dedicated my celebration to him!

Midsummer's Eve

I spent midsummer's eve with my sister and our close friends because we wouldn't be able to celebrate together on the day of Midsummer. We made a lemon based pasta dish, did a small informal dedication to our deities, made flower crowns, and ate mini sponge cakes with strawberries and whip. It was fun and simple and during our little dedication the presence of our deities was felt very strongly. I took some videos (something I want to get back into along side my practice), but only really took one quick picture of our little sweet treat~

Midsummer's Day

For Midsummer's day I knew that I wanted to dedicate the day and time to Thor. He was the deity that called me back to my practice and he was the one I've been feeling the most lately with all the rain we've been having. I bought some beer (for me it seems that Thor has a liking for Guinness) and gave it to him as an offering, while I was doing this, I felt this nagging in the back of my mind as if Loki were saying "I want some too." So, I asked Thor if it were okay for me to share a small amount with Loki. I got the sense that it was fine by him and gave a small offering to Loki as well. The funny thing was, when I stopped and thought about it again for a moment, on midsummers eve at the beginning of the day when we sat down for dinner I had noticed and commented on some crows collecting on my friend's neighbor's roof. They were acting a bit odd and there were three, then four of them. I mentioned that Loki tended to come to me in crows and grackles. I had always intended to honor Thor for Midsummer, but I couldn't help but get the feeling that Loki felt left out. While Thor seemed okay with sharing some of his offering, I did tell Loki that he needed to be patient because next month is his month. After giving my offering, I sat out on my balcony and enjoyed the sun of the late day and did a reading with my new Gjallarhorn deck. I did a reading with just the Gods portion of the deck and pulled a rune for myself. I was mostly looking for guidance/insight into the rest of the year from midsummer. After soaking up some more sun and meditating on my readings I went down to give Thor the rest of his offering by hailing him and pouring out the remainder of the beer to him. As I did this the wind kicked up out of nowhere. I wasn't a violent wind, but just pleasant. It came with a friendly energy that I knew was Thor. I had a good small midsummer with the people I was close with and on my own. It helped me feel closer to the gods and closer to my practice. ☀️ ᚦ Hail Thor! ᚦ ☀️

#Journal #Norse Pagan #Sabbat #Midsummer #Thor Deity #Thor #Loki Deity #Loki #Norse

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republicsecurity · 11 months ago

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The formal Dinner / VIP Service Training 2

I opened the locker, and there it was, my red body armor. The same piece of equipment that had accompanied me through countless emergency missions, saving lives, and facing danger. Simpler times. I reached out to touch it, first the cold, metallic exterior, then the inner lining. It felt so smooth, almost soothing against my skin.

As my fingers trailed over the fabric, I was reminded of just how comfortable it was. It caressed my body, ensuring that I could move freely and swiftly when duty called. The sensation was strangely reassuring, like an old friend.

My thoughts shifted for a moment as my hand moved lower, almost of its own accord. My fingers brushed against the chastity cage, a constant presence. Down in the intimate confines of my chastity cage, a subtle stir of arousal surprised me.

8LJ7E glanced over at me, catching the reflective look in my eyes. He gave a knowing smile, one that suggested he understood the intricate web of emotions woven into the fabric of our red body armor.

"You know," he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, "we were all conditioned to love these suits. But there's something about them, isn't there? The way they fit, the way they make us feel... it's almost like a second skin."

I nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. The conditioning had been rigorous, shaping not just our skills but also our attitudes and affections. Yet, despite the artificiality of it all, there was a genuine comfort in the embrace of the armor.

8LJ7E grinned, a mix of camaraderie and understanding in his eyes. "Exactly. We might be conditioned, but that doesn't mean we can't find our own truths within these constraints."

„Do you get hot when you touch it?“

"A little bit," I admitted, my sheepish grin mirrored in 8LJ7E's understanding eyes.

"It's the conditioning, probably," 8LJ7E said, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation. "They've got us wired to find comfort in the strangest places."

I chuckled, nodding in agreement. "True. But I guess it's better to find solace in our armor than to be constantly at odds with it."

"We should get ready!" 8LJ7E's voice pulled me from my momentary reverie. With a nod, we both moved with practiced precision, retrieving our neatly folded parade uniforms from our lockers. The fabric felt crisp under our hands, a stark contrast to the flexible armor we wore daily.

As we began ironing, the soft hiss of steam filled the room, mingling with the hum of conversation from other trainees nearby. The rhythmic strokes of the iron became a familiar cadence, grounding us in the routine of preparation. The parade uniform, sleek and formal, held its own significance, a symbol of the role we were stepping into beyond our tactical paramedic duties.

In the quietude of the moment, 8LJ7E glanced at me, his gaze softening with a hint of camaraderie. "It's strange, isn't it?" he mused, his tone low enough to be a shared secret. "How something as simple as ironing a uniform can feel almost... human."

I laughed.

In the quiet rhythm of polishing boots, we found a peculiar sort of solace. The meticulous task demanded focus, and in that focus, the world outside our immediate surroundings blurred into insignificance. The soft glow of polish mingled with the low hum of conversation in the room, creating a strangely meditative atmosphere.

I glanced over at 8LJ7E, his brow furrowed in concentration. The rhythmic motion of our hands seemed to synchronize, a silent agreement that this shared task was grounding us in the reality of the present moment. The occasional clink of a boot buckle being adjusted and the subtle scent of shoe polish filled the air.

As the gleam on our boots reached a near-perfect shine, there was a shared sense of satisfaction. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of our tightly regulated lives, but in that moment, it felt significant. With our boots impeccably polished, we set them aside and glanced at each other, a silent acknowledgment passing between us.

I let out a nervous laugh, trying to shrug off the sensations. "Yeah, I guess so," I replied, my voice a bit more strained than I intended. "It's just... weird, you know?"

„Don’t you feel really aroused again, after all this boot polishing?“

"I've noticed it too," 8LJ7E said, his tone casual as if discussing the weather. "It's the conditioning. Designed to keep us focused and, I suppose, obedient."

I nodded, feeling strangely comforted by the matter-of-fact way he spoke. It was the truth we all knew but rarely acknowledged aloud. The conditioning had its quirks, and arousal seemed to be one of them, an unintended side effect of the mechanisms meant to mold us into efficient paramedics. I adjusted my grip on the boot, focusing on the familiar task.

"But sometimes, the conditioning seems to amplify everything, even the... less expected reactions."

I nodded, appreciating his understanding. It was a constant struggle, navigating the complexities of our modified emotions and desires. The chastity cages, as restrictive as they were, provided a strange sense of relief amidst the chaos of conflicting feelings.

"It's all part of the job, I suppose," I mumbled, more to myself than to 8LJ7E.

I stepped into the white bodyglove, feeling the material conform around my body with a gentle, almost sentient embrace. It was a second skin, designed not just for comfort but also for protection, a constant reminder of the Corps' authority over us. As I stretched my arms, 8LJ7E approached, his gaze flickering to the chastity cage discreetly hidden beneath the fabric.

"Everything looks in order," he said, his tone professional as he zipped up the back of the bodyglove. His hands moved with practiced ease, ensuring the fit was snug and flawless.

I nodded my thanks. In the Corps, every action, every nuance, was part of the script we followed, the role we played to perfection. As I glanced at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but marvel at how the bodyglove accentuated my physique, emphasizing the muscular lines the Corps so highly valued.

I assisted 8LJ7E with his white bodyglove, my hands moving deftly to ensure the fabric embraced his form seamlessly. As I fastened the zipper at the back, I remarked, "They've designed it well, haven't they? Always needing someone else to help, a constant reminder of our interdependence."

He glanced at me, a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. "Yes," he agreed, his tone neutral. "It reinforces the idea that we can't function alone, not just physically, but in every aspect of our existence here."

8LJ7E gestured for me to sit, his movements efficient and practiced. He activated the holographic system, which displayed the prescribed makeup routine from the beauty specialist. As he began applying the makeup, his fingers moved with a steady confidence, expertly following the instructions.

"You know," he said conversationally, his tone light, "I used to think makeup was something only actors and performers wore. Now, it's just another layer of our uniform."

I returned the favor, mimicking 8LJ7E's previous motions. He sat still, his expression relaxed but distant, perhaps lost in his thoughts about the upcoming formal dinner. The holographic instructions guided my movements, dictating the shades and angles to enhance his features.

"There you go," I said finally, stepping back to allow him to examine himself in the mirror.

He looked at his reflection, nodding in approval. "Thanks, T1CPS. You're getting better at this."

The uniform was a study in simplicity and elegance. The deep shade of red was commanding yet not too ostentatious, giving off an aura of authority. The black dress boots shone with meticulous polishing, reflecting the stark lighting of the room. The pants were tailored to perfection, fitting snugly but not restrictively, allowing for easy movement.

The real piece de resistance, however, was the parade uniform jacket. Its high collar added a touch of formality, emphasizing the wearer's stature. The jacket was designed to accentuate the physique, giving a sense of strength and discipline. Gold buttons lined the front, gleaming under the artificial lights, and the paramedic insignia was embroidered meticulously on the sleeve, a mark of pride and accomplishment.

I stared at my reflection, my eyes taking in the polished boots, the impeccably tailored uniform, and the glinting paramedic insignia on my sleeve. Despite the armored exterior, there was something oddly satisfying about the sight before me.

"Impressive, isn't it?" 8LJ7E remarked, standing beside me and adjusting his own uniform. "We may be wearing these for the parade, but damn, we look good."

I nodded, not entirely sure why I was nodding. The polished boots, the perfect fit of the uniform, they all seemed so inconsequential and yet, in this moment, they held a strange significance.

"Good as in... professional," I said, my voice catching slightly. "This uniform... it represents something. Discipline, duty, honor."

"And a bunch of other things our instructors have hammered into our heads," 8LJ7E added with a smirk. "But you're right. It's like we've become something more, something beyond just medics. We're... symbols, in a way."

My cheeks flushed as I felt the familiar stirrings beneath the chastity cage. The uniform, the tightness of the body glove, and the proximity to 8LJ7E seemed to conspire to elicit this reaction. It was baffling, this physical response that had been conditioned into me.

"Ready?" 8LJ7E's voice broke my reverie. He glanced at me, his eyes catching the flicker of unease that must have crossed my face.

T1CPS hesitated for a moment before finally voicing his thoughts, "You ever feel like... you're not in control of your own body? Like these reactions, they're programmed, but they feel so real."

8LJ7E nodded knowingly, his eyes understanding. "Yeah, it's bizarre, isn't it? I mean, we're conditioned for efficiency and focus, but our bodies have their own agendas."

"There's this constant tension," T1CPS admitted, "between what I've been conditioned to be and what I feel." He paused, then added, "The beauty specialist said something similar, that we should explore our feelings during that window after dinner. But it feels so... strange, given everything we've been through."

8LJ7E shrugged, a grin playing on his lips. "We're still human, underneath all the conditioning and technology. Maybe exploring these feelings, even if they're engineered, is a way to hold on to that humanity. Besides, we have to find some way to cope with the strangeness of it all, right?"

8LJ7E clapped him on the back, the camaraderie evident in his eyes. "Exactly. So, what do you say we make use of this 'exploration' time tonight?“

T1CPS and 8LJ7E moved in practiced unison to the elegant lobby of the dining hall. The click of their dress boots echoed in the grand space. As they approached, they felt the weight of the instructor's gaze upon them. With military precision, they assumed the 'Full Present' position, a stance that left them exposed.

Their bodies assuming the stance with practiced precision. It was a vulnerable posture, an intentional display of submission to whoever commanded them, in this case, the VIPs. Legs spread, shoulders squared, and hands clasped behind their necks, they stared at the floor, their eyes shielded from the world.

In this exposed state, they found an odd sense of camaraderie. The vulnerability was shared, a common experience that bonded them and their fellow trainees. Despite the rigid formality, a silent understanding passed between them, a solidarity born out of the necessity to adapt to the Corps' demands.

The elegance of the lobby contrasted sharply with their position. The soft glow of the chandeliers cast intricate shadows on the marble floors, creating an atmosphere of opulence. They stood there, unmoving, embodying the ideal of paramedic discipline and obedience.

The instructors moved among the trainees like overlords inspecting their domain, their eyes sharp and observant. Their scrutiny fell upon the meticulously dressed paramedics, assessing the chastity devices with a practiced eye, ensuring every lock was secure, every seam perfectly aligned.

In the spotlight of their attention, T1CPS and 8LJ7E felt the weight of their gaze. The instructors' fingers deftly checked the locks of the chastity devices, a peculiar blend of intrusiveness and professionalism. Their remarks, though laced with condescension, carried a hint of humor, as if they were sharing an inside joke with the trainees.

"Oh, splendid lock job here, T1CPS," one instructor said, feigning surprise. "Almost as if you've done this a hundred times."

T1CPS replied sharply: „Sir, 475 times at least. Every day in the morning since I joined the Corps“

The instructor's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "Well, well," he said, his tone a blend of amusement and mock awe. "A true master of his craft, aren't you, T1CPS? I suppose that's dedication."

"Sir, dedication is the cornerstone of our service," T1CPS responded, his voice crisp and unyielding.

The instructor chuckled, a sound that resonated through the lobby. "Indeed, dedication. You're a shining example to your peers, T1CPS. Keep up the good work."

As the instructor moved on, T1CPS stood firm, his expression unchanged. But within, a subtle sense of satisfaction simmered.

"And 8LJ7E, your makeup is impeccable," another remarked, a sarcastic smile playing on their lips. "I'm sure the VIPs will appreciate your artistry."

The trainees maintained their Full Present stance, their faces expressionless despite the instructors' banter.

The instructor's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air, detailing the instructions for the evening's formal dinner. "Listen up, trainees," he began, his tone laced with a mix of condescension and amusement. "You've been groomed, polished, and conditioned to be the epitome of grace and elegance. Now, it's time to put those skills to the test."

"Firstly," he continued, his eyes scanning the line of trainees, "you'll be enjoying a four-course meal tonight. That means multiple opportunities to demonstrate your mastery of the fine art of dining. Don't disgrace yourselves by forgetting the etiquette we've drilled into you."

A wry smile played on the instructor's lips as he added, "Remember, the instructors and our esteemed female staff will be posing as VIPs tonight. Treat them with the respect and deference they deserve. Engage in conversations. Be the strong, elegant paramedic that not only saves lives but also dazzles with charm and sophistication."

There was a subtle challenge in his words, a reminder that while they were conditioned, they were also expected to excel beyond mere obedience. The trainees exchanged glances, fully aware of the implicit expectations.

"As always," the instructor concluded, his voice taking on a mockingly sincere tone, "make us proud. Dismissed."

T1CPS and 8LJ7E, impeccably groomed and exuding an air of practiced confidence, approached the table where the grey-haired lady sat, her presence commanding respect. With a synchronized movement, they both executed a crisp paramedic salute before introducing themselves.

"Ma'am," T1CPS began, his voice steady and respectful, "I am T1CPS, Tactical Paramedic, at your service."

"Ma'am," 8LJ7E followed suit, his tone mirroring the same respect, "I am 8LJ7E, also a Tactical Paramedic, ready to assist you in any way necessary."

Their words were rehearsed, yet delivered with a touch of genuine earnestness. The grey-haired lady, likely used to such displays, nodded in acknowledgment, her eyes studying them carefully. It was a moment of silent evaluation, a dance of social cues, even in this seemingly controlled environment. The instructors observed from a distance, assessing how well their training had taken hold.

"Please, have a seat," the lady gestured gracefully, indicating the chairs across from her. As they sat, the instructors' words echoed in their minds: Be the strong, elegant paramedic that not only saves lives but also dazzles with charm and sophistication.

And so, they sat, their posture straight, eyes alert, ready to engage in conversation, their every move calculated to project an image of strength and poise.

The Lady initiated conversation and asked for their hobbies.

T1CPS hesitated briefly, his mind cycling through the approved responses. "Ma'am," he began, his voice measured, "I find solace in reading the digital comics available through the HUD. They provide moments of respite, glimpses of stories far removed from our daily duties."

"Fitness events," he continued, "have become a focus as well. The paramedic training emphasizes physical prowess, and I find fulfillment in honing my body's abilities, ensuring I'm always at the peak of my performance."

8LJ7E chimed in, seamlessly adding, "And I, ma'am, share similar interests. The comics offer a brief escape from the rigors of our profession, a chance to explore worlds beyond our own. As for fitness, it not only sharpens our skills but also instills discipline and resilience, qualities vital for our duties."

Their responses were well-rehearsed, yet delivered with a touch of genuine enthusiasm. The lady, experienced in discerning authenticity, acknowledged their words with a nod, her eyes showing a glimmer of approval. In the meticulously crafted exchange, they had navigated the conversation with finesse, aligning their interests with the Corps-approved activities while maintaining an air of sincerity.

"Ma'am," T1CPS replied with practiced charm, "the HUD indeed offers a curated selection of media for our leisure, tailored to maintain our focus and morale, where they can escape the harsh realities of their duties, if only for a moment."

He continued, the words flowing smoothly, "The comics, provide a semblance of entertainment. A reminder, perhaps, that there's a world beyond the constraints of our daily lives. It's a delicate balance, granting us a taste of normalcy without jeopardizing our unwavering dedication to the Corps."

T1CPS and 8LJ7E exchanged a brief, subtle glance, acknowledging the unspoken truth in her words. The Corps' propaganda machinery was indeed a force to be reckoned with, shaping not only the minds of its recruits but the perceptions of the entire society.

T1CPS hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting the Lady's with a mixture of deference and determination. "The conditioning is part of our reality," he admitted, his voice carefully measured. "It shapes our actions, our thoughts. We are trained to be precise, efficient, and unwavering in our dedication."

8LJ7E chimed in, his tone carrying a touch of resignation. "The protocols ensure uniformity and discipline. We are a synchronized force, ma'am, and these protocols, while strict, are designed to maintain that cohesion."

The Lady's gaze shifted between them, her eyes discerning. "And what about your individuality?" she inquired, her voice gentle yet probing. "In this sea of uniformity, do you find space for your personal identities, your aspirations?"

T1CPS paused, the weight of her question sinking in. "There are moments," he began slowly, "when we glimpse our individuality, our desires. But they exist within the framework provided. Our personal lives are, to a large extent, regulated. Yet, within those boundaries, we find ways to connect, to form bonds."

8LJ7E nodded, his expression thoughtful. "We adapt, ma'am. Within the constraints, we discover facets of ourselves, even if they're not always visible to the outside world. It's a delicate balance, embracing both the collective purpose and our individuality."

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krakenbait · 2 years ago

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bragging rights bracket update #7: this one’s for all the marbles

good day bracketeers, and happy end of may! commissioner lara here. i’m casually wondering why the nhl season is so long. 82 regular season games plus pre-season and post-season, stretching all the way from the beginning of october to the beginning of june. feels a little excessive.

with that meditation out of the way, it is time i bring y’all the final results of the 2023 stanley cup playoffs bragging rights bracket! with how chaotic this year’s playoffs have been, not one person correctly predicted a possible winner, so everyone has hit their points ceiling. at least it was later than the first year, i think we called a winner after round two. but enough preamble, you guys want to see who gets to lord their victory over the rest of their friends for the whole year!

congratulations to (drum roll please) ... @natashastarkk! after winning bronze last year, nat secures victory! you have official permission from the commissioner to rub it in everyone’s faces.

rounding out our top three are two unexpected medallists. emily snags silver, while alex (@patron-saint-of-boston-hockey) lands bronze... even after I made that meme with the sword in their back.

now, enjoy the final bits of commentary for the 2022-23 season.

166 points

🥇 Hughes line is it anyway? (@natashastarkk) - winner winner chicken dinner!

134 points

🥈 Chaos mode (Emily) - representing the avs server on the podium!

96 points

🥉 hopelessly optimistic bruins fan (@patron-saint-of-boston-hockey) - i’m as surprised as you are!

91 points

more hairy men (abby) - first is the worst, second is the best, third is the one with the treasure chest, fourth is the one with the hairy chest. fitting, eh?

81 points

raise hell or whatever (@dawson-mercer) - you’re tied with noah for best result from the devils server

you know :) (@nastybastian) - you have too many points for someone with such questionable taste in hockey men

68 points

come on and raise up (@andreisvechnikov) - have the canes apologized for ruining your sleep and then losing in that 4OT game?

ready 2b disappointed but not surprised (@morganfrost) - “moose says you’re closed, I say you’re open!”

the commissioner is not supposed to win (me) - and to think i came in fourth last year.

66 points

Jack i will pay u to get a mullet (@puck--off) - be careful next time you play an ill-advised mini sticks tournament

61 points

battle of the matty b’s (@shea-theodore) - well, at least your t-birds boys on the knights are still in it.

58 points

The head, the heart, and the himbos (@circle--of--confusion) - i think the yotes should move to atlanta, give the city a third try

56 points

GOOD vibrations (ki) - let’s go avs roomies!

Hold me like a grudge - how’s that working out for you?

55 points

big advocate for naps (@turbolainen)

i had big hopes for you and your canes! alas...

53 points

the bringer of chaos (Brett) - poor showing for your first time out. better luck next year.

46 points

Djoker’s actual bracket - “you don’t pay no tolls, you don’t get no rolls.”

33 points

last season 69 points (@arsonandhockey) - how did you do only 13 points better than last year, when your friend who doesn’t know anything about hockey made your picks?

13 points

if the bruins don’t win, don’t talk to m (@saucysliceodoyle) - *insert screaming rubber chicken*

-----

that’s all for now, folks! good luck to the panthers and the knights. i got no skin in the game, so i’m just here for the chaos and good hockey. thanks for participating everyone, and see y’all next year!

#bragging rights bracket challenge #brag-cket updates #scp23

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zaewriteshere · 1 year ago

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Guardian of the Protocol

Distance

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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After that, everyone left the room to let you rest, but you weren’t feeling like it.

You wanted to move, you felt like you were on this bed for days already, and you weren’t really liking being bedridden when you were perfectly fine.

You didn’t even feel the need for a meditative session.

So, you called Ling, and told her how you were feeling.

Reluctantly, she let you have the green light under the condition that you would do daily routine check ups for a month, and wouldn’t be authorised to go on missions during that period.

You accepted the deal, even though in your mind it seemed harsh… But you did come back from the dead, so you guessed it was only fair of her to do so.

While changing clothing, you noticed that you had scars on your right shoulder and left thigh, and you got reminded of the two bullets that got you during the last mission.

It was weird, scars weren’t really a thing among guardians.

When you were brought back to life, it was unscathed, so why didn’t it happen this time ?

You put this question on the back burner. You’ll ask Lynn later, anyways.

You tried to go back to your daily routine.

The first time you noticed him, was when you were about to go eat with your friends the next day of your awakening.

Yoru was looking at you – scrutinising you, really – barely eating his own plate.

You thought nothing of it, and tried to sit down at the same table as him, but he only got up and walked away, and judging by the directions, he was going to his room.

Well, that was weird.

You didn’t spend too much time munching on it however, and just moved to the group that you were originally going to eat with.

The next one was when you were outside of HQ, trying to find a good spot for meditating any other places than inside your room. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Ryo again, but he quickly disappeared once you fully turned to make eye contact.

You found your spot at dawn, and decided to meditate for a bit before going to eat dinner.

You heard cracking of branches, as if someone was always around you and circling you during your entire session, which made you feel uneasy and therefore rendered your meditating… Useless.

When you went back into HQ, you didn’t see him until you'd already grabbed something to eat and was enjoying your meal.

You made eye contact and you waved, but he ignored you with a scowl.

Were you back to square one ?

That thought affected you more than you thought.

It was like this for an entire week, Ryo always being near but never interacting or even granting you more than a glance.

To say that it took a toll on your mental health as well as your ability to centre yourself would be an understatement.

You were devastated by his actions, but understood the reason behind it.

After all, you did lie to him and played with his feelings.

He must hate you by now.

You knew you’d hate yourself for pulling such a number on someone.

You already… Kinda did. You hated the fact that you kept your immortality to yourself, that you haven’t told anyone. Lynn was trying their best to help your mental state to no avail.

There wasn’t one day that passed by without you longing for what you had before.

“Alright, I’m sick of seeing you like this,” Finally Lynn spoke out, their exasperations radiating in waves, getting you out of your unfruitful meditation. At your questioning glance, they added. “Let’s go against M.A.X bot. Have something to change your current state of being, a trigger, I don’t know at this point.”

You could tell that your ghost was stressed by sensing you like this. So broken down and beating yourself up over every single little mistake you made in the daily – which was getting greater by the day, you kept not paying attention to yourself or your surroundings, getting hurt all the time. Nothing serious however, just small cuts and bruises.

Just like you were when you lost your fireteam, you realised.

Was the loss of Ryo’s friendship really affecting you that much ?

That couldn’t be good.

You didn’t accept that.

You promised yourself to never be affected by anyone else but yourself ever since you lost them.

Finding a newfound conviction, you nodded, getting up and preparing yourself to fight the hardest enemy in the training room.

Yourself.

You went inside the room, wearing nothing but a long sleeve shirt and some yoga pants.

You didn’t want to win, you just wanted some steam off, and what was better than a robot who fought back ?

You started shooting at him with your phantom, officially starting the challenge.

You managed to dodge most of his attacks, getting hit a few times but never truly hurt. You were feeling yourself, enjoying your time.

Mourning the loss of your friends, recent or not.

It was way more effective than meditation you realised, and you wondered why Ikora never taught you that.

Maybe because-

And you were hit by a heavy blow which propulsed you a few metres back.

You were fine. You grunted as you stood back up, maybe you’ve broken a rib or 2.

You nearly dodged another heavy blow which would’ve put you definitely in a much worse predicament, shooting back at what seemed to be weaker sides.

However, M.A.X seemed to be growing tired of your insistent shooting, because it decided to grab you by the neck and slam you against the wall…

Or at least that’s what would’ve happened if it didn’t shut off mid-movement and let you fall to the ground.

Did you lose ? Mid action ?

That was weird.

You instinctively looked at the windows, and you saw Ryo holding the emergency shut down button, looking panicked and worried.

Now, to say that you were simply offended…

Would be a grave mistake.

You were absolutely livid.

You could feel your blood boil more and more as your old friend walked up – almost ran – to you, about as angry as you were.

“What is your problem ??” You started, almost shouting, which took aback your interlocutor who stopped dead in his tracks. “Didn’t you want nothing to do with me ? And yet, you act as if I am a child going outside for the first time, needing to be protected at every single step I make ! Who do you think you are ?!” You were already out of breath, anger rolling off of you in waves, your void magic doing its own thing, the room starting to feel more like a vacuumed space than anything else. “You think you can just enter willy nilly into someone’s life and get out just as easily ? Sorry to break it to you buddy but it doesn’t work like that,” You took a step towards him with every single syllable, your voice getting stronger in power without even shouting.

He seemed to have just as much to say about it than you did.

“Then why are you acting like a child ?” He started, just as aggressively. “You’ve literally seen M.A.X bot in action and you still want to go against him alone in that outfit ? You’re not even in your mission’s clothing !” He gestured to all of you, looking you up and down as if you offended him with your attire. “Maybe it’s hard to realise it for you guardians but when someone dies, it’s a big deal. And you did. Why can’t you take care of yourself ?!” He spat the word guardian as if the word alone was a disgusting thing to say or even to be. You hid your hurt behind more anger.

“I told you, I can’t die. The funny thing is… I-I used to-” You cut yourself off, wiping away tears of anger. “I used to kill myself at every inconvenient injury. I couldn’t care less about how many times I die, so long as I can protect someone.”

So long as I can protect you.

“You were dead for 3 entire days,” He finally said, after a moment of silence. Your anger melted away slightly. “I- We really thought we lost you.”

“I’m not dead, though. I’m alive and kicking asses, why can’t you accept that ?” You asked, the anger now gone only to leave hurt and disbelief.

He never answered your question, leaving you hurt, confused, and upset.

What was wrong with him ?

#ao3 fanfic #fanfic #x reader #gender neutral reader #valorant #yoru x reader #yoru x you #destiny 2 #gotp #long fic #slow burn

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remembertheplunge · 2 years ago

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6/8/1986. Placerville, El Dorado County, California. Jan's house.

Gorgeous spring day in June. It makes you feel like a part of the landscape. After an evening with Jan and Beth and Jack. Beth was Jan's 5 year old grand daughter. Jack is maybe 35. He is black. He is divorced. Has a half white, half black child and has been married to a white woman. He built a house, put his all into it and then lost it in a divorce action with his wife. Jan believes least possibly because he is black he lost his house. I guess what she really meant was that he is black in all white El Dorado County. I felt a bit of resistance being there with him. I threatened their new relationship. And so, between that, Beth blaring Sesame Street and me doing a job skills exercise from the book “What Color is my Parachute?”which totally freaked me out, I had to get out of there. I don’t believe Jan completely understands why. I used the agitation to move because I have a million things to do today.

I sit here in one of my favorite coffee places in Sacramento sipping coffee and eating a cheese blintz.

I was writing earlier at a bar restaurant in Old Sacramento called Fat City. Just as I was writing there two pages back “The beat goes on”, I was interrupted by a guy who said “Wow, a guy with a book in here. I do that, too. This is my seat." And, with that, we launched into a beautiful conversation about life, the spirit (he is agnostic), work, and the job hunt. He married a black woman (he is white). He divorced. He is now married to a blind woman. They have a little girl. He won $10,000 in the Lottery. (I’m seeing more and more now that lack of money is a big source of my frustration. Maybe living in a smaller place would be OK, or even taking in a quiet room mate. You know, that’s a possibility I haven’t fully considered. Hmmmmmm. Oh, I like my space. Maybe I can find a little back house somewhere.)

At any rate, the guy, John, wants to invest his $10,000 in an agate lamp business. I encouraged him to do so. I know that I would love to have one. He currently works in a prison as a teacher of graphic arts. Last week, he received a death threat in a note that included his address. He is scared and I believe well he should be. He wants to switch jobs. He is very liberal and always smiles. Maybe a new friendship will evolve!

Last evening with Jan was magical. We watched a candle burning machine with racing angels and spinning windmill cast shadows into heaven via their reflections in a window. We meditated on faint blue light from people circle candle. It simply would not die. . Hope burns on. Jack said “Doesn’t take much to entertain you two.”I did a psychic reading for Jan. I told them that ghost touched my hand as I lie waiting for sleep. She has spirits in her house that touch and feel now . Gene has many that visit him. We talked about our sexuality. A woman friend told Jan that her relationship with Jack , a younger black man, was just a step to a totally solo relationship with a woman. I said, hey, if you don’t want that, don’t do it. That’s as bad as faking a straight relationship when you are not straight. Jan said that some believe that it is the ultimate statement of liberation of women.

In her striving to be liberated though, she goes a bit overboard. She not only sent me to the store to buy the majority of fixings for dinner and breakfast. I had to help prepare the dinner, do the dishes, put them in the dish washer. When all the dishes would not fit in, she asked me to stick them in, anyway. I said “N0” nicely. Enough is enough.

For an occasional overnight guest such as I, forced labor and payment is uncool. But, she’s done this before.

I just needed my space today. I am very glad I got outta there. Now I sit here enjoying the symphony—the taste of coffee in my mouth, the hum and whirl of some machine in here, the day’s waiting prospects, etc. Must go out into the world again. Bye. LW

#journaling #writing #gay #spiritual awakening #mix marriage #divorce #woman's liberation #need for alone time 6/8/1986

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tweeterwilbury · 1 year ago

Note

Additions to this post because i sent it to a friend today and that made me remember about it;

"George Harrison came to Woodstock that fall. We’d appreciated what both he and Eric Clapton had been saying about us in print. It was encouraging to have the Beatles say they were fans of ours. At one point there was discussion of recording with George and Eric, who came to see us a little later on. We talked about doing a fireside jam, real informal, with American and British players and a lot of beer, but nothing ever came of it. Bob and Albert were fighting pretty good by then, so that might have had something to do with nothing like that happening for us.

“Hi, I’m George. Nice to meet you.” That’s what he was like. Very quiet. I think he was with us for Thanksgiving at Bob’s house, and we jammed a little bit and swapped some songs. George and Bob wrote a couple of things together, and there was much talk of us being in a rock western called Zachariah that Apple Films was promoting. We were maybe going to do the music with George, but in the end the script was silly—MTV fifteen years ahead of schedule—and it didn’t happen."

This is from Levon's memoir, about George going to see them. I think it's interesting the difference between Levon saying "That’s what he was like. Very quiet." and Robbie's "When George inquired about the Band’s recording methods, I could barely keep up with him." and "But George was one of the most open people I’d ever met".

And Levon also mentioned this:

"Around this time we got a letter from George Harrison, who complained that EMI released Music From Big Pink in England in a single sleeve instead of the double-fold jacket of the American version. They printed the title and name of the group over Bob’s painting and threw out the “Next of Kin” photo. George was a big advocate for us, being quoted in the British press about how Music From Big Pink was the new sound to come from America and everybody better pay attention."

Now, I'm not sure about this next one, but...

I remember reading once that this picture is from that same thanksgiving, and that Richard was unpacking the groceries for the dinner. (Also, Richard used to call In a station "his george harrison song" and George told Richard about meditation one time in 1966. Extra little things)

And, finally, this picture is from that travel too! I have even read once that it was taken in Big Pink;

[Not a very interesting addition. I just felt like infodumping after I talked to my friend about this post.]

Okay I’m curious, what exactly is the story of George Harrison at Woodstock?

I will try to be brief.

Ok, so in 1968, right after the white album was released, George was invited to go to woodstock for the thanksgiving. As he said on I Me Mine; "I was invited there by The Band. It was Thanksgiving time and I'd just finished producing a Jackie Lomax album, directly after the Beatles 'White' Album."

He also mentions in an interview — I think it's for Musician, in 1987? — that he thinks he was invited there by Robbie Robertson.

Robbie mentions the visit in his memoir, Testimony, and he says that he had to convince Albert Grossman to let George stay at his house, and also that "Bob [Dylan] was keeping a very low profile, and when I asked him if he wanted to see George while he was in town, he too was a little iffy at first."

It's a very known fact that George was a big fan of Bob Dylan — he mentioned that in a lot of interviews, and everyone around him mentioned that too, besides the fact that he was always quoting Bob —, and during that time in Woodstock, he wrote two songs with Bob.

The first one is I'd have you anytime:

I have a post about the unused lyrics for that song that might be interesting for now.

George mentions in I Me Mine that "He [Bob] seemed very nervous, and I felt a little uncomfortable — it seemed strange, especially as he was in his own house.", and he also says that the song was written in the third day there. Later, Olivia mentioned that, when George wrote the lines 'Let me in here, I know I've been here, Let me into your heart', he was "directly talking to Bob".

The second song that they wrote together was...

One thing about this song: it wasn't finished. There are only demos of it. But it still is a very interesting song... in the lyrics on I Me Mine, there is this unused part:

That was substituted with "I get tired of being Beatle Jeff" / "I get tired of being Beatle Ted".

One fun fact about that song is that it had different names through the years. This was mentioned the George Harrison website: "Nowhere To Go was a collaboration between George and Dylan from their 1968 Thanksgiving visit that also yielded ‘I’d Have You Anytime’. It was first called ‘Thingymubob’, then ‘When Everybody Comes to Town’. ‘I Get Tired’ was also a working title and finally, by the time of the All Things Must Pass sessions, it is titled ‘Nowhere To Go’."

George mentioned the song using the title 'Thingymubob' in a letter to Bob, where he wrote the chords of the song.

Going back to The Band, Robbie said this, on testimony: "I was very curious about recording techniques the Beatles had discovered. George described their process as extremely experimental and sometimes accidental. I could definitely relate to that. When George inquired about the Band’s recording methods, I could barely keep up with him. For every question I posed to him, he asked me two about [Music From] Big Pink and The Basement Tapes [...]"

He also said this: "But George was one of the most open people I’d ever met, and Pattie was one of the prettiest and sweetest. George spoke incredibly candidly about the problems within the Beatles. John, he said, was far out on a limb, testing his balance. “Kinda crazy,” he laughed. And our dear Ringo was following in the tradition of many a hard-drinking Brit—apparently he had threatened to quit the band at one point. George was quick to admit there were serious tensions between Paul and him. 'Whenever I present a tune, the Lennon and McCartney songwriting team will ignore it as long as they can,' he said. 'Sometimes I even have to fight for my guitar parts. Paul has such a clear idea of how the song should go that he tells me what to play, or he wants to play it himself.'"

Two very interesting things here: the fact that George was talking about the problems in the Beatles, and also the fact that he was very interested in asking about the band records.

From I Me Mine; "When I wrote 'All Things Must Pass', I was trying to do a Robbie Robertson-Band sort of tune and that is what it turned into." He also mentioned that, while writing the song, he always thought about Levon singing it. (I'm not sure about where he mentioned that, tho.)

There are some songs that Bob showed to George on that time and he played later — for example, I threw it all away, a song that was released on Nashville Skyline, was played by George during the get back sessions, in january 1969, even before Bob recorded his version, and also I don't want to do it, that was released by George in 1985 —, and that travel was basically the start of a long collaboration in music, between George and Bob.

Also, George talking about the problems in the Beatles during that travel makes Nowhere to Go have even more sense. And then, when the beatles got together to record an album, it was on the get back/let it be sessions.... when he famously quit the beatles for some days.

Well, i think I've talked a lot, but that's basically the story. George also gave a guitar to Bob, but I'm not sure about when that happened — especially because he used that guitar during the get back/let it be sessions, and then on the abbey road sessions...

Anyway, here are two pictures; in the first, Bob and George, and in the second, Robbie and George.

AND THAT'S IT! i think. Sorry if this wasn't brief at all. It took me one hour and a half to write all this, so i think i probably got lost somewhere and maybe i am forgetting something.

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 3 years ago

Text

Cruel Intentions | chapter one

summary: best way to call a guy's attention? Put on some rock. you’re enjoying messing with Peter until he gets too close to figuring out what you have actually been doing at night. He’s definitely not as clueless as he seems.

warnings: swearing.

listen to: The Chain -Fleetwood mac | Lets be friends - Emily Osment (playlist here)

word count: 2.9k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on ko-fi!

As the elevator doors opened you knew exactly what you were doing to call Peter’s Parker attention, so you smirked as you walked through the hallway in the middle of the multiple labs. The glass walls of Peter’s lab (which had just been given to him the last week) were blurred, letting you know that he was probably working on a confidential project.

You wondered if it had anything to do with Tony’s suit, knowing that your dad liked to keep those things to himself or shared them with his inner circle, except for you. You sighed as you kept walking to your lab but soon, Harley stepped out of his lab with a bag, he was leaving at 11:00 pm just as you thought. At another time, Tony wouldn’t leave the lab until almost 3:00 am but as soon as Morgan was born, he stepped out at 7:00 to have dinner with Pepper and her, and he would simply wake up at 4:00 to start his days.

Harley’s eyes widened as he saw you. “Whoa, seeing you two times in a week here, are you planning on returning to the gig?”

“You know that’s not possible, right?” you responded. “Unless dad’s having a stroke he’s not letting me anywhere near his lab.”

Harley laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, I get it so why are you still here?” he asked.

“Oh, just wanted to be by myself,” you muttered as you looked away from Harley, eyes flashing for a second to Peter’s lab.

“On a Friday night?” Harley asked as he frowned.

You rolled your eyes as you played with your fingers. The thing was that you could lie pretty easily to anyone and other than maybe Pepper or Tony, no one usually suspected that something was wrong, and then there was Harley who seemed to know everything by just looking at your eyes.

You wondered if it was because he had lived with you almost every summer since Tony had met with him when he fought the Mandarin, and then went to live with you when he graduated high school. He was basically your brother, although after what had happened you had fallen apart a little bit. Still, you didn’t resent him at all and you mostly got along.

“Yeah, now leave me alone,” you grumbled as you started to walk away from him but before you could enter your lab Harley called on you.

“y/n!” he called and you turned around with a hesitant gaze. “Be careful,” he stated simply before walking towards the elevator and leaving.

You asked HAPPY to close the door immediately as you meditated on Harley’s words, what was he referring to? Your first guess was that you were thinking of doing some crazy rebellious thing in your lab, maybe have sex with someone there or bring a bunch of people which you were aware you would never do because labs (at least as you’d grown up in) were a sacred place. Then you figured you’d given yourself away by looking at Peter Parker’s lab for a second but Harley wasn’t that close to Peter anyway, not unless you hadn’t noticed something; and then your mind went to the farthest place, had he figured out what you were actually doing at night?

You didn’t allow yourself to think of that possibility, you were sure you’d been careful enough and always had made up an alibi, plus the last time you’d done it, Harley wasn’t even in town.

Therefore, you simply brushed it off before actually getting to work on your secret project but as you asked HAPPY to turn on your holograms, you also asked him for another thing.

“HAPPY, drop my needle,” you stated as you rolled in your chairs towards the main desk of your lab.

Before you knew it, the beat of The Chain started to rumble through your lab, you smirked as you started to move your body to the music.

“A little bit louder HAPPY, I don’t want to listen to my thoughts right now,” you asked again as the music was louder and the glass walls started to shake.

And then you started to work, knowing it was simply a matter of time before the boy with the chocolate curls and a constellation of freckles on his face would come to your door. But you tried not to think too much about it, you wanted your reaction to being natural and you actually needed to get some work done in there.

You moved some things around regarding some commands that you’d previously designed, as you’d come to realize that they weren’t fast enough in the field and since you didn’t have access to Tony’s latest technology, you simply had to start from scratch or just hack him but you wanted to try it by yourself. Nonetheless, a minute or so later, Peter Parker was at your door.

“Ms,” HAPPY stated as he turned the music down a bit. “Mr. Peter Parker, it’s at your door, should I let him in?”

“Let him, please.”

The door opened instantly and your eyes landed on Peter Parker, who was awkwardly standing in the doorway. He was wearing something completely different than the last time you’d seen him. His dark jeans, some converse, and a navy blue knit sweater that hugged his lean figure nicely causing you to feel a sudden craving deep down in your chest. His curls were tamer than before and darker than when you last saw him but his eyes were still the same chocolatey hazel color as before

“Come in,” you yelled as you peeled your eyes away from him and focused on your work.

“Hey, can you keep it down, please?” Peter asked, and although you knew he was screaming, you could feel somehow he was being soft about it.

“HAPPY, turn it down!” you ordered and soon the music dialed down, only leaving it softly.

You didn’t turn towards him just yet but you could still feel Peter’s gaze on your body, which was something you hadn’t planned. You just wanted to wear a comfortable matching set that you usually wore to wind down, it consisted of some short oversize shorts and a sweater.

It made you a bit self-conscious so you turned towards him with a soft smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize there was anyone else here when I saw Harley leaving,” you said earnestly as you got closer to him.

He indeed smelled like cinnamon but you detected a scent of honey too, you felt as if your heart started to beat faster because of it.

“Yeah, no I’m still here,” Peter said softly, his eyes still trained on you.

“I can see that,” you answer with an even larger smile, and as you looked him directly into his eyes, knowing that could cause him to be a bit nervous.

Peter remained quiet, a ghost of a smile on his face and although many people would find it extremely awkward, you instead welcome the silence and the closeness to him as Peter smirked back at you, although you could swear that his cheeks were starting to get pink.

He gulped as he finally broke eye contact, which you celebrated mentally, as he walked towards your main desk while he examined the holograms.

“What are you doing?” he asked as his eyes were trained on the lights and the text, his eyes were moving so rapidly but you thought he was simply skimming through, you didn’t think he was so updated on the technology regarding the Iron suit to actually know what he was reading about.

“I’m just looking at some portal-” you shrugged but he quickly cut you off.

“- Mode for the interface of…” Peter’s words died down as he frowned and turned towards you, while you felt like vomiting.

Before you even realized your movements, you closed all the holograms at once with your arms so there was just you and Peter in your lab, you glanced at him with your lips pressed together as you tried to figure out what to say.

You were aware that Tony only worked with the smartest people, which right before Peter consistent on Harley, Bruce, Pepper, and you. But you weren’t aware that Peter Parker actually had the clearance to know or be at least aware of the technology and the programs used for the suits. How come Tony had let him in so easily? How did he know so much?

And Peter didn’t allow you to even meditate on those questions as he started to talk.

“What was…”

“You can’t tell Tony,” you blurted as you got closer to him than ever before as you realized his apprehensive expression when you mentioned the idea of lying to Tony.

“I-”

You felt nauseous at the thought of him saying no, knowing this could end up being the last thing that ruined your entire life and what was left of the family if Tony ever figured out, and beyond the bet, you needed to make sure this never got out.

“Peter,” you started, your voice coming a bit more wobbly than what you would’ve hoped for as you instinctively grabbed one of his hands. “Have you ever had a secret that’s so bad that could actually hurt people you love?”

Peter remained silent again as your gazes linked. The thing was that at the moment you couldn’t exactly read Peter Parker, which only caused you more distress, you could even hear your heart hammering in your chest and you wondered if Peter heard it too. This was the second time you’d met him and now your life was hanging by a thread that he was holding, your life was at his hands. You stared into those hazel brown eyes and there was something that flashed in his eyes as he heard your desperate plea.

You wondered if he understood.

“I’m not going to say anything,” he finally said softly and you could feel as if the air was once again filling your lungs but you still held his hand.

“You swear?”

“I swear,” he nodded as he smiled a bit while cocking his head.

“Thank you,” you said earnestly as you looked down and then up with the most genuine smile you believed you’d given in a while.

Your eyes returned to your hands holding, he still hadn’t let it go as somehow he caressed it, almost as if he was trying to calm you down but you let his go rather quickly when you started to feel your skin prickle at the way he was touching you.

Though you knew you shouldn’t be focusing on things like this, you turned towards where your bag was while you pretended to look for something, a bit flustered.

Peter understood that this was his cue to leave so he turned towards the door but as he walked, you heard his steps stopping.

“It’s dangerous, you know?” Peter stated as he looked at you with his lips pressed together.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged as you gave a few steps towards where he was. “I like dangerous things sometimes,”

Peter couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve heard,” he stated before he was walking towards the door.

But you automatically froze and frown at his response.

“What else have you heard?” you asked and Peter turned around again.

“It’s just that you’re usually up to no good,” he shrugged as if whatever words he was saying had no meaning or no importance when indeed they carried too much weight and implications.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snapped at him as your eyes narrowed.

Peter picked it up and he started to stutter. “I- It’s nothing, it’s just that you’re a bit, Uhm, you know charming and, uhm”

“And?” you said as you stepped closer and closer to him until you were face to face.

“Wild and a little bit manipulative?” Peter’s face blushed so quickly, turning such a shade of red that you immediately felt defensive about what he was insinuating.

“What!?” you gasped and you instinctively gave him a rather aggressive tap on the shoulder, which you regretted immediately because usually, people would actually bruise. “You know, you could at least have the decency of telling me who’s bad mouthing me so I can have the opportunity to confront them!”

Which you were serious about and by the look that Peter was giving you, it was clear that you were fuming.

“And they have to add aggressive to the list,” Peter said as he shook his head before you now really punch him on the shoulder, but again Peter didn’t say anything if he felt it but he didn’t even flinch, which surprised you because usually, you were stronger. “y/n, not a chance. I’m a great secret keeper”

You rolled your eyes with a groan. “Was it Harley? Or my dad?”

“You do not trust your family, right?”

“Peter!” you exclaimed a bit exasperated with a pout on your face, hoping it might work.

“Sorry, y/n!” Peter said as he walked backward and then into the hallway.

“I don’t like you!”

Leaving you alone and extremely angry. You hadn’t even realized that you had any sort of connection to Peter outside of Stark Industries and you knew that you’d to figure out who was talking shit about you before Peter believed you were radioactive and wouldn’t want to get near you.

You quickly took your phone and started to text Harry for help but as you sent the text, your attention was caught by the characteristic sound of your alarm and you knew you had to go.

***

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll

authors note: im actually floored by all the support I've received with this new fanfic. It's honestly so heartwarming to see your messages, you'd definitely made my month!!! I hope that you are excited for what's coming next. lmk what you think and I always always appreciate feedback. moreover i would appreciate a bunch if you supported me on ko-fi even one dollar makes the difference! thank you so much!

feedback is always welcomed

donate: help me with my laptop?

also maybe soon available on wattpad?

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whisperlullaby · 4 years ago

Text

Stuffed Full

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (AU)

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), breeding kink, language, adult themes, and a TON of really bad baking puns.

Words: 1162

Summary: Bucky finds his calling after his last tour, baking. It brings him to you and he can’t wait to start a family.

A/N: I cannot believe it is my wonderful cousin @buckyownsmylife’s birthday! This is a fic for her birthday challenge featuring breeding kink. I loved writing this it was SO MUCH FUN. I hope you love this my sweet cousin it is all for you! Please if you are under 18 do not read this fic. Thank you to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog and @river-soul for their beta work I appreciate you so much!

After Bucky got back from his last tour he was lost. Transitioning back to civilian life was harder than he thought and the trauma he endured followed him around like a shadow. Late one night, when the nightmares woke him up, he found himself pacing in the kitchen. Bucky pulled out his phone and started searching for ways to calm down. After passing several articles on meditation and mindfulness, he found a chocolate chip cookie recipe that was ‘perfect for a bad day.’ Pulling out the ingredients he started attentively following the directions. He felt such relief as he cracked the eggs and mixed the flour, creating some sad-looking cookies. After he took out the final batch he physically felt calmer.

He brought them to Steve to try and despite their unappetizing appearance, they were delicious. Bucky knew he had found a way to reintegrate back into civilian life with his baking. He spent months collecting recipes and testing out new ones, getting a little bit better each time he made something. His friend, Sam, even helped him set up an online store where people could order his various creations. That’s how he met you. You had placed an order for a birthday cake. He delivered the cake and when you opened the door his heart stopped. He almost dropped it right on the floor when you reached out to take the box from him, your fingers brushing over his.

“Thanks, nothing says happy birthday like eating an entire cake by yourself with a bottle of wine,” you chuckled humorlessly.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together. “You’re spending your birthday alone?”

You looked up at him with sad eyes. “I sure am but I have the best cake in town! Anyway, I’m sorry to keep you. You probably have a lot of deliveries to make.”

“You were actually my last stop.” Bucky took in a deep breath. “If you’re interested, I could take you out for your birthday? Get you some dinner before you eat the cake?”

Your mouth dropped open before it turned into a shy smile. “Um, sure why not. Can you give me a half-hour? I need to change.”

Bucky noticed for the first time that you were wearing pajamas and raked his hand over his face.

“Of course doll, I’ll wait out here.”

All it took was that one date for Bucky to fall head over heels for you. The way you laughed sent fireworks through his body, and all those cheesy jokes you told? He could listen to them for hours, especially if you kept doing that thing with your nose when you told them. Bucky could physically feel his heart skipping a beat each time you looked at him with those beautiful eyes. He spent months wooing you until you finally decided to move in with him. He figured it was because he kept you well supplied in various baked goods, but he knew you loved him just as much as he loved you.

You came home early one day and caught Bucky in the kitchen testing out new recipes. The mixture of smells was enough to make your stomach rumble.

“Hey love, what are you making?”

Bucky turned around and greeted you with a brilliant smile. “Hey doll just trying out a new cinnamon roll recipe, brownies are cooling, and I’m washing some jalapenos for some jalapeno cornbread.”

You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s waist. “I’d like to get jalapeno pants.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, he loved all of your corny jokes. “Sweetheart, are you this cream cheese frosting? Cause you’re on a cinnamon roll!”

You scoffed at the pun. “Bucky, my love, maybe stick to the baked goods and leave the puns to me.”

He turned around and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. “Baby I really knead you right now.”

You rolled your eyes and grabbed a handful of Bucky’s ass. “I just wanna take a bite out of your sweet buns.”

Bucky chuckled as he bent down to kiss you more passionately this time. Slowly he moved you back until you were pressed against the counter. His hands moved to the hem of your skirt pulling it up until it was bunched at your waist. He broke the kiss to spin you around and press you flat against the counter, the cool marble creating goosebumps on your skin. Bucky kneeled down, pulling your underwear down as he went. He brought his fingers to your clit, working slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Bucky laved his tongue over your core.

“Doll, you’re just like butter, I want you on everything.”

You laughed before Bucky continued his ministrations causing you to moan. “I always did say you were amazing in the kitchen.”

The vibration of Bucky’s low chuckle went straight to your core. He worked two fingers into you hitting your sweet spot with precision. Soon your orgasm washed through you and Bucky rose to pepper kisses on the back of your neck.

“Now sweetheart, let me get my sweet cream inside this creampuff.”

You burst out laughing as Bucky lined himself up. When he pushed in your laughs turned into a wanton moan. He placed a steadying hand in between your shoulders as his other grabbed your hips, setting a bruising pace. You could feel your orgasm building up again as Bucky’s thrusts got sloppier.

“I’m gonna put a bun in this oven,” he grunted. “Keep you full and round. Gonna look so beautiful walking around here growing my baby.”

“Buck, I’m gonna cum, fill me up. Wanna feel you cum inside me,” you mewled.

Your walls were milking Bucky’s cock as you came and after a few deep thrusts, he followed painting your walls with his spend. After a few minutes and sweet kisses he pulled out and helped clean you up.

“So, you want a baby?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he blushed.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I want a family with you.” He gently ran his fingers across your cheek as you hummed in satisfaction.

You took in a deep breath and crinkled your eyebrows. “Bucky, did you put something in the oven?”

He gave a shy smirk, “Doll I thought that was obvious-”

You cut him off. “No Bucky, something's burning did you forget you put something in the oven?”

His eyes shot open as he ran to the stove and when he opened it puffs of black smoke billowed out. You doubled over laughing as he tossed the whole pan in the sink.

“Well, guess I know that leaving cinnamon rolls in the oven for that long burns them. Good to know.”

You placed a gentle kiss on Bucky’s cheek. “I can’t wait to start a family with you, but maybe we work on your attention to detail.”

Bucky gave a short laugh, “Our kids are gonna have one amazing mom that’s for sure.”

You grinned. “You butter believe it.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #baker!bucky #james barnes x reader #buckyownsmylife #happy birthday

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kodzuvii · 4 years ago

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ON TRACK! ✩ [14: so, I guess we’re soulmates?]

next: [15: the rock wannabe]

pairing - iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

genre - crack + fluff :) soulmate au!

synopsis - In a world where soulmates can hear the songs their partner is singing or listening too at any time, Iwaizumi Hajime wants to know who his soulmate is so he can give them a piece of his mind and tell them to stop singing along to soft lofi songs while he’s in the middle of practice because it’s seriously ruining his cool, calm, and collected image.

wc: 4k

warnings!: grammar issues plz ignore + awkward phone call between two overthinking teenagers?

a/n: this is severely long overdue and I apologize deeply for that. the taglist for this series is open! more info will be found in the note after the story! ty :)

“Nee-chan’s weakness #16: overthinks more often than usual when under a lot of pressure”

Akaashi loved you. He really did. But if the higher-ups gave him an option to choose a new older sister, then maybe, just maybe, he would consider taking it. As he watched you frantically pace around his room with your dog (who looked quite scared) in your arms, he wondered if you viewed him more of a personal therapist rather than a little sibling.

His evening was going normal. After a long day of practice, all he intended to do was read a book after dinner and maybe watch a movie with Tofu afterwards just before bed. Nowhere in his plans were for you to barge into his room unannounced with an evident look of panic on your face while mumbling incoherent words.

Your hair was a mess and you were clad in an oversized sweater and superman pajama pants with Tofu in one of your arms while your phone was being held tightly in your other hand. All he could get from the words leaving your lips at a 1.75 playback speed was “soulmate” and “phone call” and “not ready.”

Akaashi watched you stop in your tracks and pull out his desk chair. You plopped yourself onto the seat, face warm and flushed as you tried to recall how you were feeling. “No Keiji I’m telling you that any second now, my soulmate is gonna call me and uhm? Quite frankly, my brain can’t process that and I am fucking scared.”

Akaashi hummed, “nee-chan calm down.” Tofu then jumped out of your arms and leaped onto Akaashi’s bed. He walked up and cuddled up near the setters side which made Akaashi smile before turning his attention back to you.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your legs and spun around on his chair, “no Kei this is serious. This first phone call is basically equivalent to a meet-cute which also means the first impressions. I feel like his first impression already isn’t good because I literally injured his friend so this is my moment to redeem myself” you rambled.

Akaashi made eye contact with Tofu and even the poor dog looked concerned at your state.

“Kei, what if this is all a mistake? I mean the universe must be against me somehow right? What if he hates me the moment I answer and then next thing you know he’s telling me that he wants us to reject each other and then I’m gonna be left all alone to roam around this miserable world and-mph!”

You flinched back as you felt a soft pillow collide with your face and stop your ramble. You looked down at the pillow on the floor and snapped your head up to your brother, “what was that for!” Akaashi rolled his eyes and petted Tofu with his right hand, “you overthink too much” he replied simply.

You narrowed your eyes at him but you couldn’t come up with any comeback in your head. He was right after all. You groaned and stood up from the spinny chair and walked over to his bed before belly-flopping down. You leaned over and grabbed the blue pillow near his headboard and Akaashi watched as you screamed into the plush material.

You were losing it.

“This sucks Keiji, I’m terrible at phone calls. I don’t even answer Otosan’s phone calls so how the fuck am I supposed to answer my soulmates?”

In Miyagi, Iwaizumi unknowingly found himself in a similar state as you. The moon was shining from his window and the light cascaded a soft glow into his room. With his windows wide open, he could feel the cool breeze blowing in and slightly brushing over his face. But the breeze didn’t help calm his nerves at all.

Iwa was a simple guy, really he was.

As someone who meditated regularly as well as found good coping mechanisms that would help calm his stress levels down, you would think that he’d be relaxed in this situation.

But no, Iwa was also internally panicking. Being the stubborn boy he was, he tried to play it off and cool himself down by fooling himself into believing that he was fine and that he had everything under control.

He didn’t

Iwa cracked his neck and looked back down at his phone. He was sitting on the sides of his bed, hand gripping tightly onto his phone as his eyes stared at your number displayed on the screen right under your name and his thumb barely hovering over the call button.

“Okay. I’m gonna do it,” he thought to himself for the nth time in the past 10 minutes.

He took a deep breath and gave himself an internal word of encouragement and made the move. ‘So close’ he thought. “This is it, I’m gonna do it” But just as his thumb barely, just barely, made contact with the screen, he pulled it back and harshly threw his phone at his pillow. He closed his eyes and groaned in frustration as he fell back, his back hitting his mattress.

This was starting to piss him off.

It was just a phone call.

Him simply contacting and talking verbally to someone through his phone.

He was fine.

Right?

Yeah no, he was totally fine. Pft He’s had phone calls before. In fact, he had done it several times with several people (that’s a lie he only picks up to his parents and maybe Oikawa on good days) Why was this so hard? Phone calls are a natural thing. Especially in the 21st century. He wasn’t some old man who had no idea how to talk on the phone.

He got this.

But wait, did you even want him to call you first? What if you wanted to call him first? Wait what if he asked you during the wrong time and you’re tired?

Iwaizumi then lifted his head slightly to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was 8 pm. It wasn’t that late right? You would’ve told him if you were busy right? Wait what if you’re an early bird who liked catching a full 12 hours of sleep. Or what if you were just too scared to tell him you weren’t in the mood to call. God, there were so many factors he should’ve thought about before asking you. He blinked and heaved a frustrated sigh as he looked up to his ceiling. This was a lot harder than he’d thought.

If there was one thing he learned from Oikawa’s fangirls is that girls are scary.

You were no exception to that idea.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath before pulling himself back up and leaned over to grab his phone. He turned it to the side and made sure once again that his ringer was on and that the volume was all the way up just in case you know, you wanted to call first and save him from all the stress he was feeling.

He stared at your contact information and gripped his phone tighter. Your contact didn’t even have a photo and your name was just ‘Akaashi Y/n’ on his phone. Everything that happened between you two from the past couple of weeks flooded his head and he couldn’t help but internally cringe. He silently cursed at Oikawa for bringing him into this situation because maybe, just maybe, he could’ve held off this first phone call and wait for a couple of years when his voice would be a lot deeper and he would be a lot cooler and he wouldn’t be sitting on his bed with a pathetic expression while listening to his phone ring and-

Wait,

Ring?

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he now realized that he must’ve subconsciously pressed the call button on his screen. This was it, there was no turning back now. His olive-green eyes stared blankly at his screen. He kept blinking and re-reading your name and just hoping silently that it would change from your name to Oikawa’s so he could yell out all his frustration at him.

A couple of seconds went by before the ringing stopped and he felt his breath hitch when his ears picked up the sound of your voice on the other line.

“Hello?”

Oh, shit this was really happening

It’s been 3 seconds, shut up Hajime.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Hey, Akaashi-chan right?”

“Mhm but please just call me Y/n! oh and uh hi Iwaizumi-kun”

Iwaizumi blinked, he doesn’t know why but he felt his cheeks heat up as he heard his name come out of your lips. Iwaizumi cleared his throat before bringing a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “Uh- how are you doing?” he asked. Oh my god, you probably picked up on how unconfident he sounded. This is horrible. He winced and brought his hand to his forearm, rubbing it in an attempt to ease down his nerves.

“I’m doing okay, did you uhm-- eat yet??”

Iwaizumi stiffened, taken back a bit at the question but you interrupted him before he could reply. “I-I’m guessing you got back from practice not too long ago right? Assuming you stayed back late and stuff,” you trailed off. Wincing at your own awkwardness. Iwaizumi pinched his forearm and chuckled nervously, “No-uhm you’re right I got back a couple of hours ago. And yeah, I ate already. Did you?” He asked back, You shook your head, “no not yet. Been busy reviewing and all that stuff” you answered truthfully as you glanced up at your stacks of opened notebooks and coloured highlighters messily spread around all over your desk.

Iwaizumi grunted, his nervousness momentarily washing away as concern came over him. “Y/n, you can’t neglect your health. Cut some fruit up or something” You froze for a second at how stern he sounded just now. Then you realized that this could just be his natural voice and you’re just reading into it too much. Oh god you were starting to overthink again. How did Bokuto and your brother get past their first conversation?

Your silent curses towards the world were cut short when you realized that too many seconds passed and Iwaizumi was still waiting for your reply. Like you do in any unsure situation, you stifled a laugh and nodded while scratching your knee awkwardly, “I will I will.”

A long line of silence then came through and there were no other words to describe it other than awkward. The faint buzzing of your phone sounded louder than ever. You could hear the wind blowing, the clock ticking, and the way your legs would shuffle against each other as you fidgeted. The silence between you two was long, tense, and uncomfortable. The kind of silence that made people want to die on the inside. You both started to question the situation you were in. You had the same goal, both wanting to learn more about your soulmate. Yet you’re lack of comfort and his lack of confidence made things more nerve wracking than it should be.

In an attempt to ease the tension, you tried to think of something you could say that would loosen both of you up. A quick little sentence that was casual and good for conversation starters. You thought for a second, trying to recall your favourite movie couples and what words they said to each other during their meet cute. You needed something smooth, simple, but something that could address the situation you were in. It then clicked in your mind, 5 words, 5 syllables (or did it count as 7?) whatever.

All your time spent watching incredibly dramatic romance movies has led up to this moment.

“So…” you started in a casual tone.

“I guess we’re soulmates huh?”

The moment those words left your mouth your mind short-circuited and you wanted the ground to swallow you up whole. It definitely sounded way cooler in your head. God what were you thinking? And why did you make it sound like it was a question. stupid. Barely 10 minutes in and you’ve already embarrassed yourself.

You fell back onto your bed (Akaashi kicked you out of his room) and covered your hand over your mouth and moved your phone away from your face and let out a tiny scream so that Iwa would not be able to hear. Maybe you weren’t as smooth as you thought. However, that didn’t matter anymore. The words had been said and now the embarrassment was eating you up and every single bad scenario you had previously imagined began to cloud your mind. This was it, you’re soulmate definitely thought you were a loser, bye-bye happiness and hello staying sad and single until you fall into your grave.

Your ears perked up when you heard him clear his throat. You sat up, moved your phone closer to your ear as you anticipated his reply.

“Yeah I guess”

Your body tensed up at how unsure and bored he sounded. And you thought this moment couldn’t become anymore embarrassing. You physically felt your soul leave your body the moment he spoke those words in such a bored tone. This is gonna be a moment that would forever haunt you in the years to come.

Phone calls were neither of you guys’ strong suits and that fact was clearly evident in the way neither of you knew what to say next. While you could handle carrying yourself in real-life conversations, the closeness of someone's voice against your ear and their lack of presence in front of you made things made things more stressful than it should be. Iwaizumi was naturally not much of a talker, he usually let his flamboyant best friend that was joint to his hip take control of conversations. It didn’t help that most people found him rather intimidating and unapproachable.

The silence stretched out for another minute and the longer before you decided to speak up once again. You agreed to call because you wanted to learn more about him, your soulmate, and there was no way you could learn anything about him by just listening to the faint sounds of his breath through your phone. You shook your head and gave yourself a mini pep talk in your head.

Come on Y/n, pussy up bitch.

“Iwaizumi-kun I’m gonna be honest-”

Iwaizumi's hands that were playing with the cotton material of his sweatpants froze. His voice got stuck in his throat and a part of him became worried. Curse his lack of conversational abilities. He was too lost in second guessing himself while structuring his sentences about what he wanted to say to realize that you were probably waiting for him to say something. Did he already mess things up with his soulmate?

“-I suck at phone calls. Like, I’m terrible at it and I’m honestly really nervous right now because this whole thing is a bit overwhelming but I want to get to know more about you because well, you seem pretty cool” you rambled and were met with silence on the other line. Iwaizumi suddenly felt himself get flustered the moment you said that he was cool.

You sighed and continued, trying to ease the way your heart was pounding against your chest. “Truthfully I don’t know what to say or what we should talk about, so we can start with the basics, yeah?” You cleared your throat and straightened yourself up as you took a deep breath.

“Hi Iwaizumi-kun, I’m Y/n”

It took a moment for his mind to process the words you said. Basics. Yeah, he was capable of doing that. After taking a deep breathe, one that was meant to give him some sort of encouragement, he replied. You felt chills go up your back as his gruff voice echoing through the speaker;

“Hey, I’m Iwaizumi”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

First real conversations were never easy. A part of you felt like you were back in your first year of junior high when your teacher was forcing you to play ice-breaker games in an attempt to get to know the people in your class. The questions were the usual “what’s your favourite food?”, “when's your birthday?”, etc etc.

However, instead of getting to know your classmates, the game would usually just result in everyone staring at one another as they waited for someone to speak up. An awkward tension cutting into the classroom as everyone simultaneously realizes that everyone was kinda lame and boring and that they don’t really wanna get to know the people who sat beside them.

You hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Iwaizumi. You’ve known you’d had a soulmate since middle school. Since then, you’ve always fantasized about your meet-cute. You’ve watched many romantic movies and read more than enough manga to fuel your brain with endless cute imaginations and ideas.

But alas, the reality of the world is that cute scenarios are simply meant to live in fictional stories. Akaashi had even told you that you needed to humble down your expectations to save yourself from disappointment in the future.

The first couple words exchanged in your conversation weren’t poetic words of love confessions and sweet nothings. They were typical, short common questions that people generally use to learn more about each other. The expected “when’s your birthday?” and “what do you do in your free time?”

You learned about how his birthday was during June, his favourite colour was dark green, he liked agedashi tofu, and how he spent his free time doing some sort of exercise or physical activity. Iwaizumi was also relatively quiet, truth be told you did most of the talking while he said quiet words to let you know that he was still listening. Along with being quiet, he was private. A direct contrast to you. You were an open book, your mouth moved faster than your mind and you had not much of a problem telling him about little details about yourself.

Iwaizumi on the other hand was selective on what he wanted to tell you. Iwaizumi was simple. A down to earth guy who had his own little sense of edginess to him. He was levelheaded and was someone who strived for realistic goals rather than unreasonable daydreams. You caught that when he simply answered that his goal right right now was to attend nationals with his best friend. When you asked if he had further goals, he simply said that everything else was too far into the future and was out of his reach. You could also tell that even though he used names such as “piece of trash” and “shittykawa” to describe his said best friend, he cared for him in his own way.

Iwaizumi always had a feeling that his soulmate would be the more talkative one out of the two of them. He wasn’t reserved per se, just wasn’t one to ramble over things when deemed unnecessary. You on the other hand could talk for hours. Just from listening to your speaking patterns and tone of voice, you were bright and confident. You found ways to stray away from the original topic and talk about something completely different. On top of learning about your birthday, favourite food, colour, and basically everything he told you, he also somehow learned about your allergy to raspberries, your admiration for early 2000s movies, how you had a dog who you also considered like another brother, and now he was listening to you retell a story about how you got into baking and cooking.

You were carefree once you became comfortable. Your voice was captivating, one that made people always pay attention to whatever you were saying. He listened intently as you went on about your story, he hummed here and there to indicate that he was listening and nodded along even though he knew you wouldn’t see.

A part of him felt relieved to hear you speak so freely. While you never directly came to him, he could tell from your Twitter rants that you were going through a lot of stress from school. Iwaizumi may have only met you formally recently, but he’s listened to your taste in music long enough to have an idea about how the songs you were playing indicated your moods. You had been playing such gloomy music during the past couple of weeks but he was still too nervous and felt like he was overstepping a line if he became too upfront and told you to tell him what’s wrong.

Yeah, you were soulmates, but you technically didn’t know him just like how he didn’t know you.

Nonetheless, a part of him felt relieved at hearing the genuine excitement in your voice because he knew that at this very moment, you were feeling okay.

“-and that’s how I baked a cake to persuade my brother into not telling our Mom that we sneaked out to the convenience store at 4 am,” you said cheerfully as you recalled the memory. You had switched from sitting at your bed to now sitting on your chair and leaning your upper body onto your desk. You moved your word out of the way and had your elbows propped up on the surface of your desk, your head leaning onto your phone in your hands. A part of you felt giddy when you heard the faintest chuckle come from the other end of the line.

The awkward tension between you two was fizzling out and you no longer felt as nervous as you did in the beginning. You were slowly and surely becoming a bit more comfortable with his presence. Truthfully, Iwaizumi still felt a bit awkward. Not that he minded you talking a lot, he just didn’t know what to say and was worried that you found him boring like how Oikawa said he was.

He really was trying. It just wasn’t in his character to be so open about himself.

“Y/n, you know how dangerous that could've been?”

“Shh, my brother was practically a giant back when we were in junior high so he was enough to scare any creeps away. Plus, I already knew then that the elbow is the strongest point in the body so I would’ve been able to fight any sort of dangerous threat!” you exclaimed. “That is not a good excuse,” he replied in an unamused tone.

You huffed, “At least I know something about self-defence” you attempted to reason. You only heard Iwaizumi reply with a simple ‘tched’ which made you laugh.

It was then that you looked onto the clock at the corner of your desk and realized how late it was and it was also then that you remembered that you still had some notes that you wanted to write up before you went to bed. Curse University prep. You were so lost in your conversation with the boy that time slipped past your mind along with your other responsibilities. Just when you two had started getting into a comfortable rhythm too. You sighed sadly which immediately caught Iwaizumi’s attention.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. You shook your head and removed your phone from your ear and pressed the speaker button on your phone screen. You placed your phone on your desk and stood up to organize the notebooks you had pushed aside on your desk. “Nothing bad, just remembered I had a couple more notes I wanted to finish up before bed,” you said with a hint of sadness in your voice. You wanted to continue your conversation with him and you really weren’t in the mindset to review your nutrition notes right now.

Iwaizumi paused to take a moment to look up at his wall clock and realized that it was nearing midnight. Iwaizumi felt a twinge of guilt inside of him when he realized that he kept you up so late. This was even past his own scheduled bedtime.

“I didn’t mean to keep you up so late, my bad” he apologized. You stifled a laugh as a tired smile spread on your lips. “It’s not your fault. Something tells me that you’re the type of person who sleeps early so I should be apologizing for keeping you up” you replied.

You suddenly yawned and stretched your arms over your head, “I’m gonna finish up and call in for the night. You should get some rest Iwaizumi-”

“Go to bed” You flinched slightly at how serious his voice got.

“It’s late, you can finish up your notes tomorrow. Studying when you’re tired isn’t healthy. Get some sleep so you won’t feel extra tired and groggy tomorrow morning. If you’re gonna stay up, at least go and make yourself something to eat for tomorrow so you feel energized”

You smiled tiredly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you Iwaizumi-kun. Oh and thank you for tonight, I enjoyed talking to you and I hope we can do this again” you shyly suggested. You closed your eyes as you clutched the material of your sweater to your chest as you waited for his answer. Iwaizumi felt a sense of relief rush into him knowing that you enjoyed talking to him. A sense of his self doubt momentarily washing away. You didn’t hear a reply for a moment and it worried you that you might’ve said the wrong thing. But a couple of moments passed before you heard a faint “Me too”

You moved your hand to hover over the red call button on your screen,

“Goodnight Iwaizumi-kun, sleep well”

“You too, Y/n”

The ‘beep’ from your phone indicating the call had ended echoed through your room. You stared at your phone for a moment as it dawned on you that you just had your first real conversation with your soulmate. And yeah it wasn’t the large extravagant straight-out-of-movie scene you had always envisioned but that didn’t matter. What mattered now was that you had talked to your soulmate and you knew a little bit more about him and he knew a little bit more about you.

It was a start.

You yawned and stretched your arms up over your head once again and sighed in relief when you felt your back crack. Your arms dropped to your side and you frowned as your eyes looked down at your notebooks that you had now neatly stacked in your hands. You realized that you were far too tired to even open up your textbooks, let alone finish a couple pages of notes.

Thinking back to what Iwaizumi said, you could always tune in early for the night and finish everything up tomorrow in the library. Plus, waking up to something to energizing to eat didn’t sound so bad. It wasn’t going to take long and you figured you had a bit more energy left to cut up some fruit before surrendering yourself to sleep.

Content with your decision you turned around and made your way towards your door. However, just as you were about to step out you heard three buzzes from your phone come back to back. Curiously, you walked back towards your desk and leaned down to read the message:

“Hey, if you need someone to study with then let me know and we can facetime and I can keep you company. If you want to of course. No pressure if you’re not up for it”

“Oh and grapefruits are really good to have the morning by the way, they’re refreshing”

“rest well.”

a/n: hello! This chapter is very long overdue and I’m really sorry about that. I’m not gonna go into it but just know that this series is back and I hope to keep a steady flow of updates going :)

I struggled a lot with writing this chapter partly because I myself am terrible at phone calls but I hope this gives an insight to difference between Iwa and Yn!

I will be opening up taglist for any of my newer readers who would like to keep up with the updates of “on track!” Feel free to comment or send me a message : ) Regarding my current taglist, it’s been months and I’ve noticed a lot of people changed their @s so I tried to find everyone who changed their users. If I accidentally tagged you and you weren’t on my list let me know + inform me if i also missed you. If you no longer want to be added, then please let me know if you would like to be removed from the taglist. Thank you all so much for your patience and feel free to let me know about your thoughts down below :)

++ I just want to clarify iwaizumi’s initial care for Y/n’s well-being isn’t meant to be interpreted as “omg he’s falling for her already” and should be seen as just someone who cares about his soulmate and wants them to be healthy. He knows that YN is his soulmate and cares about her because of that. But it’s more of a platonic care at the moment. They’re soulmates, yes, but he’s not in love with her and Y/n is not in love with him (yet at least) ya gets?

yeah i’m just a fan of slow burn

I just wanted to say that just because I’m not confident in the way I wrote him 😅 thank you so much again for reading!

taglist! [OPEN; comment or send an ask to be added!]

@aircorumble @bunnyuuji-archive @cloudsvna @donteathecake @iloveyouasmuchaspoohloveshoney @sunabrainrot @tadashi-simp @agaashesmilktea @sbaepsae @vicassa @akaashikeijisthighs @mariachiii @ayocee @starsinthepavement @cece-lives-here @elianetsantana @gxrleexis-arctic-monks @ssaihanuweol @sazunari @kenmacorps @simping-for-tendou @intoomuchfandoms @vxnna @froyopet @komouri @idek-at-thispoint @volexis @insomniish @amberisnotcrazy @maramalademadara @faewraithsworld @mjoork @mindofess @dreamstormings @h0ngh0ngh0ng @keekee-732 @daewengol @amessypan @applekenm @ptv-hades @killlerqween @bakusquadz @bbymilkbread @bbyhaji @sophie-duck @marissaraeblr @kellesvt

tags continue in comments w/ my main🤍

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smau #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu soulmate au #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smau #iwaizumi hajime smau #haikyuu fluff #iwaizumi fluff #on track!

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 22 - ao3 -

Lan Qiren woke in a bed, which was not a surprise. His favorite blanket – the one Wen Ruohan had bought for him – was tucked in around him, and this was also not a surprise.

He was in the Nightless City, which was.

“How…?”

“Your brother gave permission,” Wen Ruohan said, and Lan Qiren twisted his head in surprise, not having seen him sitting there at the desk beside the bed. Wen Ruohan was writing something, his brush movement steady and unhurried; it was a distinct contrast to the seething rage lingering in his voice. “Since I know you care about that.”

“Of course I care,” Lan Qiren said blankly. “He really gave permission?”

Wen Ruohan’s brush paused. “Are you suggesting that I’m lying?”

Lan Qiren considered it for a moment, then said, a little helplessly, “It seems more likely than him agreeing to cut my punishment short.”

Wen Ruohan snorted, and put his brush down. “I insisted,” he said, and the smug curl of his smile suggested it had been more than a casual conversation. “Anyway, he didn’t want a fuss.”

Naturally not, as He Kexin might object, Lan Qiren thought to himself, and shook his head at his own bitterness. He realized a moment later that it didn’t hurt to do that.

“How long did I sleep?” he asked, alarmed. The transit to the Nightless City was long, unless someone decided to waste vast amounts of qi flying by sword – which he could see Wen Ruohan doing – but the staves used for the Lan sect’s more severe discipline were not like those used for more mundane offenses. While they weren’t on par with a discipline whip, they were still made of spiritual wood, infused with qi; the injuries they left would not heal so quickly.

“I applied medicine,” Wen Ruohan said, rising to his feet and coming over to sit by Lan Qiren’s side on the bed, helping him sit up. “You’re not healed, only numb…I understand you’ve been having difficulties in your sect for some time, and that was even before the lady attacked you in an effort to frame you for her own rape.”

“I’m fairly sure she just wanted to show my brother that she wasn’t interested in him,” Lan Qiren said, wincing. He would not have phrased it quite like that, although thinking it over, it did seem to be a fair way to describe it, if an uncomplimentary one. “It’s not a stretch to think that picking his less impressive brother over him would do it.”

Wen Ruohan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Truly, an ingenious mind. Did she think herself so attractive that no man would ever deny her?”

That, or else she’d been truly desperate. Lan Qiren could sympathize with her to that extent. After all, do not take advantage of your position to oppress others was a rule for a reason, and the power and influence a Great Sect could bring to bear against a rogue cultivator was not nothing. But his sympathy ended at the point where she’d decided it was acceptable to harm him in order to achieve her goal – even looking at her actions in the best possible light and assuming that she sincerely thought he would participate willingly in her plan, she’d made all sorts of assumptions and hadn’t bothered to verify anything before acting on them.

He Kexin might be free and unrestrained, as his brother had described her, but she was also perilously reckless, and selfish, too.

Still, at the same time Lan Qiren thought about Wen Ruohan’s smirk when he mentioned his ‘insistence’ with his brother – he wasn’t sure if it involved physical violence or not, although the mental image of such a confrontation was oddly satisfying – and grimaced at the thought of the same sort of pressure being brought to bear on someone without a Great Sect’s protection. “About - He Kexin…”

“You needn’t concern yourself for the lady’s sake,” Wen Ruohan said, and his tone was a little unpleasant. “Even after all that, she permitted herself to be convinced by one of her friends that the advantages of receiving Qingheng-jun’s affections outweighed the disadvantages, despite her own better instincts; that seems punishment enough for the moment. Someone who does not hesitate to blind themselves at the say-so of another will reap the reward they deserve in the end…”

He shook his head, and smiled once more, displaying a glint of teeth.

“You may take comfort that I took no action against her. However, I did suggest that the lady in question consider avoiding Qishan on her future travels.”

Lan Qiren felt something warm pricking his heart. “The thought is appreciated, although unnecessary. The one whose conduct is in the wrong is my brother.”

He’d appreciate an apology from He Kexin, whether for misjudging him or ignoring his refusals, but he wouldn’t hold out hope for it.

“I can be angry at more than one person at once,” Wen Ruohan said. A strange expression flitted over his features. “I admit, I would have thought Lao Nie would have done something about the entire situation sooner. Even if you weren’t writing to me, why didn’t you write to him?”

“I did,” Lan Qiren said. “His initial reply was – unsatisfactory.”

Lao Nie had responded rather casually to Lan Qiren’s message laying out the situation with his brother and He Kexin, speaking light-heartedly of the burning ardor of first love; he had assured Lan Qiren that it was normal to feel troubled by the thought of being left behind, even when the relationship was not good, and that his brother would probably resurface from his infatuation a happier person in the end. It was fairly evident that he hadn’t read all of Lan Qiren’s carefully composed letter.

“I asked him to come by the Lan sect,” he added. “But he was otherwise occupied.”

Wen Ruohan pressed his lips together in irritation. “He’s been otherwise occupied for some time now. You’re not the only one whose letters he’s disregarded.”

“Even you?” Lan Qiren said wonderingly. “But he likes you so much.”

The tightness in Wen Ruohan’s face eased a little. “I’ve asked him to visit here on account of your health,” he said. “I expect to see him arrive in his usual ridiculous flurry of temper and hen-like concern soon enough – once he reads the letter, anyway.”

Lan Qiren nodded, then hesitated. “The last time I was here…”

Wen Ruohan gazed at him sidelong.

Lan Qiren bit his lip. “I understand that I overstepped –”

“Don’t apologize.”

Lan Qiren stopped.

Wen Ruohan looked irritated again. “Don’t apologize,” he said again. “Are you not my little brother? If you cannot scold me, who is there that lives who can? I am not Qingheng-jun.”

Lan Qiren wasn’t entirely sure how the two were connected.

“If you want to make it up to me, go back to the way you addressed me before,” Wen Ruohan added.

Lan Qiren frowned, confused. “How do you mean?”

“Call me da-ge. Not xiongzhang.”

“…the latter is more polite.”

“So is listening to your elders,” Wen Ruohan said haughtily. “As you’re so fond of saying, it’s what I asked.”

“All right, da-ge,” Lan Qiren said obediently, and Wen Ruohan looked pleased.

“Rest,” he ordered, rising to his feet. “There will be dinner soon, and perhaps we can play weiqi once again…is there anything else you need for your room?”

Lan Qiren’s room in the Nightless City was very similar to the room Wen Ruohan had prepared for him in the Cloud Recesses; he couldn’t think of anything else he might need. Except only…

“I don’t suppose you could ask your spies to check in on my rooms back home,” Lan Qiren said, even as he settled back down to rest as instructed. “There was a painting there that you gifted to me that I liked a lot. It fell during the fight, and I haven’t been back since. I don’t want it thrown away.”

“Which one? I got you several…the mountain pass? The flowering tree?”

“No, the landscape with the rolling hills,” Lan Qiren said, and Wen Ruohan, who had been about to leave, stopped abruptly by the door. “It’s a little burned at the edges; you can’t really mistake it for anything else.”

“You liked that one?” Wen Ruohan’s voice was strange, full of some emotion that Lan Qiren was too tired to even try to decipher. “Above the others? The quality is much less, and the skill with the brush inferior.”

“The person who painted it was happy,” Lan Qiren explained. “There’s an echo of the painter’s residual qi trapped in the ink, you can tell a little bit about who they were from that. Whoever it was, they were brash and bold, arrogant and carefree – full of potential, like a phoenix about to alight to a higher branch. Their soul was like a falcon’s, tied down by nothing. Looking at it is an inspiration, and a comfort. I use it sometimes as a focus for meditation.”

“…I’ll have my spies check,” Wen Ruohan said, and he must be truly perturbed by Lan Qiren’s punishment-induced injuries if he had actually just admitted to having spies in the Cloud Recesses. “In the meantime, I have several other works by the same…artist. If you’d like.”

“Oh, very much!” Lan Qiren said enthusiastically; he tried to struggle up to sit again, but he started to feel pain even through the numbness of the anesthetic he’d been dosed with. Wen Ruohan glared him back down, and he yielded meekly, knowing that he was in no state to be really protesting. “Thank you, da-ge. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Wen Ruohan huffed and put a hand behind his back, sweeping out the door like a gust of wind.

Lan Qiren lay back down, staring up at the ceiling.

Are you really going to do this? he wondered. Will you really forgive him for what he has done, for what he is, just because you desperately need support? What happened to your principles? Your rules?

He exhaled hard, almost a sigh. He still wasn’t all right with the torture, still thought it was wrong for a man to exult in the pain of others in such a grotesque fashion, but he’d gone back to his standby, the rules, and he was reminded brutally that they were designed to function as guides for the self, not for the world. You were supposed to embrace the entirety of the world, to shoulder the burden of morality, to refuse to tolerate evil – and yet the rules of hospitality, of host and guest, of neighbors, were ranked just as high.

He could choose to continue to hold back, to express his disdain of Wen Ruohan’s ways with distance and reserve, but it wouldn’t stop Wen Ruohan from doing what he wanted anyway, and it would leave Lan Qiren even more isolated and friendless than he was already.

It would be better to compromise.

And yet – it was hard, perilously hard, to force himself to do so. It was one of his flaws, he knew: how uncompromising he was, how unyielding, how bitterly he held onto his opinions, refusing to change, especially when he thought he was right.

For his own sake, he needed to try to do so. But he also needed to at least try to salvage his conscience, too.

He’d have to find a way to do both.

So decided, Lan Qiren reserved the issue of how he would do that in the back of his mind, returning to sleep. It would be easier, he thought, to resolve the issue in the morning, once he’d healed up a little more.

It wasn’t, but that was mostly because he was horrified to discover that he had no proper clothing.

“You have clothing that fits,” Wen Ruohan replied, the mildness of his voice failing to conceal the glint of amusement in his eyes. “It’s even in your clan’s colors. What’s the problem?”

“It’s too much,” Lan Qiren insisted, shaking the clothing at him. He had at least been left his inner robes, though he felt naked without the extra layer. “My formal clothing is less excessive than this!”

“That is surely a matter for your sect, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s excessive.”

“You have no sense of proportion!”

Wen Ruohan shrugged. “I can send for something else,” he said. “Even from your home, if you like. By regular post, it should only take a week or so to arrive.”

Lan Qiren scowled.

“If you really prefer, you’re welcome to walk around naked until then –”

Lan Qiren was so aggravated that he actually hissed at him, surprising Wen Ruohan into a laugh that interrupted his words, and returned to his room to begrudgingly put on the robes. They were white and silver, his usual preference – not interwoven with blue, but that wasn’t a surprise, given that white was a secondary color for the Wen sect as well as the Lan – but they were also ridiculously overwrought: embroidered brocade, silks so fine that they had to be layered in order to not be translucent, studded with shining pearls and what might be actual silver…

“Absurd,” he grumbled, but put on the clothing and came back out. “Do you enjoy tormenting me? Is that it?”

“At times,” Wen Ruohan said, his eyes curved and merry. “Come, sit. It’s your move.”

Lan Qiren permitted himself to succumb to his sworn brother’s atrocious taste for the evening, then stole away to the laundry room the first chance he could, determined to beg for a set of clothing that was somewhat more normal – even mourning clothing would be acceptable, as long as it was neither Wen sect nor horribly garish.

Wen Ruohan found him there, arguing spiritedly with the tailor, and whisked him back to his rooms on account of Lan Qiren’s injuries, arguing, correctly, that Lan Qiren was on the verge of collapsing and coughing up blood from having been a bit too enthusiastic.

Eventually, after some of what Lan Qiren called reasoned debate and what Wen Ruohan called flagrant sulking, Wen Ruohan agreed to get him something a little more normal to wear on the condition that he wear at least one adornment of Wen Ruohan’s choosing along with it.

“You secretly wanted to play with dolls as a child,” Lan Qiren said accusingly, even though the initial adornment – a belt loop made from moonstone and jade – was entirely appropriate, even by Lan sect standards. “You were denied the chance then, and now you make it everyone else’s problem. Is that it?”

“Perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said. “It’s been so long, how would I remember?”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and gamely lost to him at weiqi a few more times.

It was perilously easy to slip back into the comfortable camaraderie that they’d developed on his last visit, he reflected as he prepared for bed that evening. It was something he enjoyed - something they both enjoyed - and if Lan Qiren only kept his opinions to himself, convinced himself to actually bend for once, he might be able to actually keep it, this time.

The next morning, he went to the extensive library kept by the Wen sect and took down several books on anatomy, carefully copying out the goriest parts of it in his best calligraphy; he wasn’t an inspired painter like the nameless ancient that had done the pictures that now hung in his room here, but he excelled at dry and lifeless copies, which was about what you wanted from an anatomy text.

He finished the small booklet within a few days, and gave it to Wen Ruohan one evening before dinner.

“What’s this?” Wen Ruohan asked, flipping through it with a slightly bemused expression. “Medicine?”

“Anatomy,” Lan Qiren corrected. “Since you – like that sort of thing. It’s a gift.”

Wen Ruohan blinked very deliberately. “Little Lan,” he said, staring down at one of the more explicit illustrations. “Did you get me a gift to help me torture people better?”

“I got you a gift because you’re my sworn brother, and you’re taking care of me,” Lan Qiren said with as much dignity as he could muster in light of the patheticness of his abject surrender. “I got you this gift because it seemed relevant to your interests. Anyway, it’s not something I can share, or even really countenance – and in all honesty I would prefer that you not do it while I’m around, or at minimum try not to mention it to me, to make it easier to look the other way – I mean, it’s not going to be easy, but easier – well, my scruples aren’t important. It’s something that matters to you, so I’ll just –”

Wen Ruohan cleared his throat, interrupting him. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said, looking at the space above Lan Qiren’s head for some reason. “The Fire Palace has had trouble keeping my interest recently; the entertainment has gone stale. I have moved on.”

Lan Qiren had not expected that, and he smiled happily, his pricked conscience unexpectedly granted a reprieve. For some reason, it made Wen Ruohan stare at him.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re not torturing people for sport any longer,” Lan Qiren told him, in case it wasn’t clear. “As for the booklet, even if it’s not quite right for your interests right now, I still hope you enjoy the work...I’ll get you a better gift next time.”

“No need to strain yourself,” Wen Ruohan said. “I will be pleased no matter what it is, I’m sure.”

He gestured for Lan Qiren to enter the dining room first, which Lan Qiren did. Oddly enough, despite his cliché and rather condescending reassurances, Wen Ruohan looked especially pleased throughout dinner, almost as if he really meant what he’d said.

It was nice, Lan Qiren thought, to be liked. One could get used to it.

His injuries were healing very well, between the medicines Wen Ruohan’s doctors plied him with – Lan Qiren attempted not to calculate the value of them, certain that they were probably worth more than a small sect’s heirloom treasure – and the rich spiritual energy Wen Ruohan insisted on infusing him with, morning and night. Lan Qiren tried to protest that the latter was unnecessary, but Wen Ruohan had stood on his rights as the host, and at any rate he simply had so much qi that the effort seemed not to wear on him at all. So Lan Qiren let him keep doing it, Wen Ruohan’s warm hands conveying warm qi as he spoke to him of various matters, important and trifling, and Lan Qiren – liked it.

“In the Nightless City, we release lanterns several times a year, not just on the Lantern Festival,” Wen Ruohan murmured into Lan Qiren’s ear as he sat there, eyes growing heavy as his rules-mandated bedtime approached. “It’s a celebration of the sun as our sect’s sigil. The lanterns come in all shapes and sizes and colors, and we light the flames with spiritual energy. There’s a day not far from now where we will do it; people are making preparations already. Your body is still stiff and unbending, your wounds still healing – you’ll be here to see it.”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“Good,” Wen Ruohan said. “Very good…ah, little Lan, what a strange thing you are. When you were gone, I thought of you often no matter what I wished. I thought that I could cure it by having you here, but now you are here before me, every day, and yet I think of you no less. It seems that seeing you every day does not cause me to tire of you.”

“Yes, you’re very easily amused,” Lan Qiren said, his eyes sliding shut as the warm qi circulated through his body. “I think we long ago established that.”

“Is there any feature of yours that you actually like, little Lan? Or is it all self-depreciation?”

“I have a good brain,” Lan Qiren said. “I’m creative and analytical, and I explain things well; I make for a decent or even accomplished teacher. My musical ability is good, both in terms of playing and composition. Also, I’m informed that my face is first rate.”

Wen Ruohan laughed behind his shoulder. “I stand corrected.”

When they parted that night, all was well.

The peace did not last until morning.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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goggles-mcgee · 4 years ago

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Too Late: Tom & Sabine (Commission for miner249er)

This is a sequel to Revolt of the Akuma, also a commission from @miner249er this will be multichaptered!

Summary: Sequel to Revolt of the Akuma. How Paris and everyone there deals with Marinette’s akumatization and the many things born from it.

Previous Work Next Chapter

Business was slow but that somehow became the normal for Tom and Sabine, at first they resented it, they truly were busy bodies and they loved to work, needed to work, but then Marinette was akumatized and disappeared. Their baby girl was gone and it felt like there truly was nothing they could do about it. The worst part was they hadn’t even realized she was the akuma at first, they didn’t know things at school had been so bad that Hawkmoth was able to take advantage of their little Baguette’s emotions, and they hadn’t been there to help her through it. Their days seemed routine now, they would wake up at 3 AM instead of their regular 4 AM because of the guilt and the nightmares, they would prep the kitchen then Tom would start on the bread with his father Roland helping out since everything had taken its toll on Tom and he started to become forgetful in things to do with the bakery, even his timing was off. Meanwhile Sabine would attempt to do her morning meditation. The meditation was never successful nowadays because she truly could not clear her mind or calm her heart and memories of Marinette both good and bad would surface and she would be thrown into a fit of sobs that Gina tried her best to help calm.

Roland learned the hard way that he no longer could hum his and his son’s song while making bread as it had reminded his son too much of Marinette and the larger man would break down in tears if he even heard the slightest bit of the song. He would call out for his daughter while hugging whatever he had in his hands close to his chest. Roland had never been the most affectionate of father’s, he wasn’t even affectionate with his wife, but when he broke down like that, Roland felt the urge to just hold his boy and comfort him. It pained him to see his son in so much pain, but Tom and Sabine were strong people and they picked themselves up in order to get through the day.

Well, they tried their best and really that’s all anyone expected of the grieving parents. The day Marinette was akumatized and disappeared had been a normal day for them and maybe that’s what filled them with so much guilt. Their bakery was always busy and that was something they took pride in, before Marinette was born, the bakery had been their baby. They made it, helped and watched it grow, and they got to see it flourish. It was a lot of work and sometimes they would just get into this work zone where nothing else could grab their attention. Working with so many ovens and having to prepare so many things, there was only so much you could multitask before your brain felt full. Though those were only excuses, they had been neglecting their daughter and hadn’t realized it. Marinette knew how much they loved their bakery and how busy it could get and she always seemed to understand but now looking back on it maybe she had just pretended to be fine with it all. They tried their best to always ask how her day was when they would all have dinner together, but Tom would be the first to admit that sometimes even that just became routine rather than actual curiosity about their daughter’s day.

They had deluded themselves into believing that Marinette’s world was rose tinted, and they had taken comfort in the lie. Maybe they truly just wanted to believe that Marinette was their always smiling baby girl and she had no problems to worry about because it would be easier to deal with than the reality. When Marinette had become fascinated with fashion and that fascination grew, Sabine and Tom had been happy and supportive of their daughter, yes their hearts hurt a bit since they had hoped that maybe she would take over the bakery for them, but then they noticed how much time her designing took up. It hurt to think about now but Sabine could remember thinking that it was a blessing that Marinette was distracted and busy because it meant they had more time for the bakery. The more they remembered their shortcomings, the more they felt. They felt too much now after not being able to for so long because of Hawkmoth.

After having to shut down any and all negative emotions, finally being able to express them was like breaking a dam. Crying was never just a little tears, it was always these heart wrenching sobs and it could be for the littlest of things like a broken toy or missing a bus. Anger, now anger was the scariest in everyone's opinion, once someone started yelling it was like they couldn’t stop, they would break things, maybe hoping to see a butterfly, then there was the crying. Everything ended in tears. Anger came quickly nowadays, more so than sadness, though maybe they worked hand in hand now. Tom had found himself more on the depressed side of things, everything made him miss his little Baguette, sometimes he still expected to hear her footsteps racing down from her room and out the door with a shout because she was running late. Sabine on the other hand, everything just made her angry, every little thing. She would even snap at Tom but she would immediately apologize because she knew it wasn’t his fault. If anything she was angry at herself, angry at the school, at Hawkmoth, Hell, even at their bakery.

Some days she hated waking up to the work and the mingling, there were times where she was so close to just begging her husband to closing the shop for a while and taking a break or maybe closing it permanently. She hadn’t decided yet, but she just told herself to hold on, just hold on till their closing period or ‘vacation time’ as Marinette would say. Perhaps that was the reason why she wasn’t really giving it a serious thought, the whole giving up their boulangerie idea. It held memories, both good and heart-aching, of Marinette. Sabine would never talk about those memories with anyone but family now, but everytime she was working she couldn’t help but look over at their ‘Artisan Boulanger’ sticker at their storefront that was slightly crooked because Tom had been putting it on when Sabine had told him she was pregnant and he had slipped in shock and the sticker was forever a bit crooked. She couldn’t help the way her hands would clench over a box or bag when giving a customer their things, Marinette had designed them and each time she handed them over it felt like she was giving away a little piece of her daughter each time.

“Have a wonderful day.” Sabine muttered to the latest customer of the day not even caring that her voice came out monotone.

“You as well! Merci Madame.” The young boy who had come in thanked her but Sabine just watched impassively as he hurried over to his friend. “Dude can you believe it? We get to eat pastries that the Protector ate!”

“Correction, we get to eat pastries that Ladybug ate.” His friend responded.

“That hasn’t been proven yet. That’s all just speculation man.” The first boy laughed as they made their way to the door and Sabine had to take in a deep breath or else she might have thrown something. How dare they come into their shop and talk about their daughter as though she wasn’t a person. How dare they treat her akumatization as some spectacle for them to worship and admire. How dare them all.

“Speculation? You are sorely mistaken bro, look at all the evidence! I’ll send you all the links then you’ll see.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Sabine just stared at the young men even after they had left until she no longer could make them out. This. This was why she no longer wanted the bakery, it no longer held the same joy it had when Marinette was there and Sabine and Tom hadn’t even known it until she was gone.

“Bonjour Madame.” Sabine was ripped from her musings by another customer walking in, a regular in fact, Mlle Josephine Bernard. She had been coming to their boulangerie since they first opened and had always been very kind to Marinette. In fact, she commissioned Marinette a few times as well.

“Bonjour Joséphine." Sabine greeted with a small smile, the most she could manage.

“One rhubarb tart please and a pain de campagne. I’m making stew tonight and my fiance loves when I pair it with your bread.” Joséphine said with a kind smile as she took out her money and change and placed it on the saucer on the counter.

Sabine couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped, Joséphine always had exact change and honestly it was a welcome habit to Sabine. “Are you going to share the tart for dessert? It is small, are you certain you would like just one?”

“Oh no, that’s just for me. Our little secret okay?”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Sabine promised as she swiftly gathered Joséphine’s order, once she made her back to the counter to hand everything to the woman she was caught off guard when said woman placed her hand on top of Sabine’s.

“How are you holding up Sabine?”

First instincts were yelling at her to lie, to say everything was fine despite everyone knowing it was not, but another part of her was yearning for reassurance that wasn’t from her husband or his parents. “I...I’m trying. But it’s hard. It’s hard when people come in and talk about my daughter as if she’s this thing that is more than human, more than just a teenager. They don’t even say her name anymore. Tom and I have had to move and lock away her things because...because people have broken in and stolen her belongings in order to steal or collect them. The police have been no help on that front. They told us to just get better locks. As if it is our fault that people are breaking in.” Sabine took in a shaky breath before continuing, “We get people who leave “gifts” instead. They are letters to Tom and I, accusing us of abusing Marinette...of neglecting our baby. They seem to think we don’t care about what happened to her Joséphine. We’ve had to replace some windows after one incident with a rock and some spray paint.”

“Oh my goodness Sabine! I’m so sorry. You and Tom don’t deserve any of that.” Joséphine gasped out, but Sabine wanted to argue that maybe they did. “That is just cruel and disgusting. If you two ever need anything please don’t hesitate to ask, or if you just need to talk or get out of the house for awhile, call me okay? Things...things will get better.”

“Merci Joséphine...maybe I’ll take you up on that. Enjoy your treats and tell me how Stephan likes everything okay?” Sabine responded after a while.

“I will...I will keep you and Tom and Marinette in my prayers. Merci Madame.” Joséphine said before leaving.

Sabine’s movements felt robotic as she walked over to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign letting everyone know they would be closing for lunch. It was a small mercy that they were already at the middle of their day. Thankfully Roland and Gina would have lunch ready for them, they had been so helpful through everything but sometimes Sabine couldn’t help but feel like even they blamed Tom and Sabine for what happened to Marinette. Sabine knew how much Gina adored Marinette and she could see how much getting to know Marinette had meant to Roland, to have their granddaughter gone so all of a sudden, they too were grieving in the way they best knew how. They parented and distracted themselves with helping out Tom and Sabine as much as they could, that would be why they were staying with them. She knew how Roland was about them being late to lunch so Sabine made her way to the kitchen to see Tom baking but it looked like he was doing everything on autopilot, she wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even heard Joséphine come in.

“Tom. Sweetheart. It’s lunchtime, let’s go eat with your parents.” She mumbled as she placed a soft hand on Tom’s shoulder stopping him from decorating the last of the cupcakes he had made.

“Oh...Lunchtime already?”

“Yeah. Here let me put those on display then we’ll head on up.” She took the tray of cupcakes gently from him and went out to the front again to put them on display where she saw several people looking in their shop. She decided to just ignore them...and the camera flashes, though maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to pull the security gates down just while they were upstairs for lunch. In fact that’s exactly what she did. “Ready to head up dear?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, ready. Let’s go eat. It’s been a long morning.” Tom said with a small smile. She felt like it was more for her benefit but she still appreciated it all the same. Once they went upstairs they went through the motions of eating lunch and if someone asked Tom and Sabine what they had eaten, they wouldn’t have been able to answer, but they gave the obligatory remarks of, “This is so good thank you,” and,” So good. Maybe you can make it again sometime.” Maybe Roland and Gina saw through them, they probably had and the fact they made no comment about it truly was a blessing. As a way to avoid conversation if they needed to Sabine turned on the television and it just so happened to be the news.

“And as promised viewers video footage of The Protector in action. This footage was donated to us by an anonymous source who had happened upon The Protector out in the open when she was akumatized. I want to warn everybody, the footage may be shocking to some viewers. Roll the clip please.” Nobody spoke. How could they? Sure they knew people still had some weird fascination with their daughter and granddaughter’s akumatization but the news stations had stopped reporting on it or at least they thought they had. Nadja certainly hadn’t given them a heads up about this little ‘special’ of theirs like she had done previously, and yet here they were watching her and Alec talking about their daughter and they wouldn’t even say her name. She has a name. Sabine robotically pressed on the remote to see more info on the program and had to swallow back bile, ‘The Protector Really Paris’s Protector?’ that was the title and already Sabine could feel her anger rising. She didn’t bother reading the summary, she already knew what this special was about.

She watched as her daughter, her baby girl, bent down in a patch of butterfly bushes crying her eyes out, sobbing out her hurt for anyone and everyone to hear. Her baby, even in the distance of the camera, looked so angry, so torn, she should never had to have felt like that. The video continued on with this person slowly zooming in on Marinette and Sabine had to wonder why this person was recording at all. She could never understand people’s obsessions with filming akumas, at least many filmed from a distance other than Alya and sometimes Nadja but it was always after the fact the person was akumatized. Maybe that’s why this particular video was bothering her so much, this person, whoever they were, they were filming her daughter breaking down because they knew at any moment she would be akumatized or, and the idea made her sick to her stomach, they were hoping she would be akumatized. They were hoping for a chance to have a video go viral, maybe they weren’t but that’s the only thing that Sabine could rationalize why they would be filming her teenage daughter in the first place.

The video was a bit shaky as it seemed like the person filming didn’t want to be seen even though there was no one else there. Sabine hadn’t realized she started crying until she felt the tears hit her hand. She hated seeing Marinette in pain and her not being able to comfort her. She, her husband, and his parents watched with bated breath as they saw an akuma finally fly into frame and slowly make its way towards Marinette. Sabine wanted to shout out a warning, do something, but she knew it was pointless and that just made the tears fall more. Everyone watching could tell that Marinette hadn’t noticed the akuma at all as she was still sobbing and wailing, Sabine could feel Tom squeeze her hand and she squeezed his right back. Then the akuma landed and merged but that wasn’t the shocking part, they had to watch their daughter stare at nothing with too-wide eyes and the familiar symbol of Hawkmoth over her face sit there as dozens...no, maybe hundreds of butterflies, white butterflies surrounded Marinette and landed on her body.

Then a bright light flashed, it was so unlike any akumatization anyone had seen, the butterflies were gone but if you looked closely at the fading light surrounding Marinette you could see the faint flutter of wings. Then she stood up, the Protector stood up. Sabine sobbed and not for the first time cursed at her daughters classmates, they had been around Marinette the most, they knew her daughter, she did everything for them and yet they treated her like that. To the point of akumatization. Sabine prayed that her little girl wasn’t actually Ladybug like it was speculated, even if it made sense, because that would mean her daughter had been suffering through more than just everything going on at school and really, Sabine wasn’t ready to face all of that just yet.

“Now before we discuss everything in that video I will say we do have many more to share so stay tuned Paris!”

Next Chapter

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starryeyedweeb · 4 years ago

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Valentine’s Day with BNHA

A/N: I know it’s late for Valentine’s Day, but this is about the fifth time I’ve tried posting this because every other time it never got a single note even though all of my other stuff does pretty well??? So not to be that person, but if you see this I’m begging you to give it some love because it’s one of my favorites!

*DISCLAIMER*: As I’m over eighteen, I write all underaged characters aged up to be eighteen or older.

Contains: As always, sickly-sweet fluff; gender-neutral

Characters Included: Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi/Todoroki Touya, Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day with...

Bakugou Katsuki

As expected, Bakugou thinks that Valentine’s Day is kind of ridiculous and isn’t too keen on celebrating

When his friends ask him what he’s planned for the holiday, it results in a bit of a rant

“Valentine’s is a shitty holiday for shitty partners to try and make up for being shitty. I take them on dates and spoil them all the time, so why should I make a big deal about a random day in February?”

But because he wasn’t a shitty partner, he knows he has to do something for you

“Oi, do you want to go hiking?” he asks shortly on Valentine’s morning, already dressed for the occasion. “We can go to that spot you’ve wanted see for a while.”

You agree- eagerly.

You honestly weren’t the biggest fan of hiking until you started dating Bakugou, who’s obsessed with it

It’s like meditation to him- one of the best ways for him to find a calm and clear mindset- and the two of you always have your best conversations when you’re out on a hike

Plus he looks amazing in his hiking clothes

The trail in question is further outside the city than most, and when you arrive, it’s pleasantly deserted

With backpacks swung over your shoulders, the two of you start down the rough path, which cuts through a thick forest

When you first started hiking, you could barely keep up with Bakugou, but you had gotten much better at it over time and are now able to comfortably keep pace with him, even holding his hand part of the time

The trail is mainly uphill, though, and periodically he will all but force a water bottle into your hands

“Get a drink. I don’t want you getting all dehydrated on me.”

When you reach the peak of the trail, which is a flat clearing overlooking the city below, Bakugou indicates for you to sit down and pulls out two bento boxes that he had packed prior to the event

Though there’s nothing heart-shaped nor unnaturally red or pink inside, the box is sweetly filled with all of your favorite bento foods

And of course, they all taste amazing

“Katsuki, this is so good!”

“I know.”

“Come on.” You playfully push his arm, feeling his muscles rippling beneath his jacket. “Seriously, though, thank you. Life has been so crazy lately, and this little break was perfect.”

“So you’re not upset we didn’t do anything more, I don’t know...” he trails off, furrowing his brow and running a hand through his hair, “...on theme?”

“Of course not. Stuff like that is for shitty partners who use a holiday as an excuse to make up for being shitty. They’ll go right back to their behavior the moment the day is over.” You interlace your fingers in his and hold his arm with your free hand. “This was perfect.”

Bakugou can’t resist a smirk and short chuckle at your sentiment, realizing exactly why he’s with you

“Hey, what’s that look for?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Kiss.”

You reach up and press your lips to his, and his arms wrap around your body, holding you close

When you pull away, you cast a glance out at the tranquil cityscape below and reluctantly check the time.

“Do you think we should head back down?” you ask.

“No. I want to stay here a little while longer.”

Todoroki Shoto

As one of the top heroes, Todoroki Shoto is a hard man to get alone, but you have high hopes for Valentine’s Day.

On the morning of February 14, the two of you check into the luxury hotel he had booked for a romantic staycation, awaiting an entire day of activities planned around the resort: lunch and dinner reservations, a couple’s massage, seeing the hotel’s nightly show...

Only for it to all be completely foiled before it even starts when Shoto gets an urgent call about a villain incident gone badly wrong, with as many heroes as possible desperately needed to help.

“Go ahead and do everything we had planned,” he urges as he’s leaving, rushing through a parting kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

But you know that it’s not going to be as simple as “I’ll be right back.”

The moment the door shuts behind him, you can’t help but turn on the TV and flip to the news, trying to find out just what Shoto had gotten himself into

The danger of the situation makes you sick with anxiety, and you have to turn it off almost immediately for the sake of your own sanity

Trying to follow his wishes, you go through the motions of the day you had planned, but instead of reaping the intended benefits of rest and relaxation, your brain is completely clouded with worry for Shoto’s safety

Which is only amplified when the hotel lobby has the news on with a crowd of people clumped together before it to see what’s going on, and the receptionist approaches you to ask if you’re alright

Dark falls with no sign of Shoto, but your heart leaps when you get the news notification that the battle is over

You turn the news back on for live coverage of the heroes that participated being interviewed about the events, but your stomach knots once again when you see no sign of Shoto

They haven’t mentioned any casualties, you wonder, but have they missed him or something?

When a knock echoes throughout the room, a cold feeling of dread washes over your body

You freeze and merely stare at the door, sure you’re about to receive the news that’s the worst nightmare of any partner of a hero

Until the door opens, and reveals Shoto holding a bouquet the size of his torso, looking a bit battered but otherwise alright

You launch yourself across the room, and he drops the flowers to engulf you in his arms

“God, Shoto,” you sob. “No matter how long I’ve been with you, waiting and worrying never gets any easier.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs back, stroking your hair. “But I’m here now. I’m fine. I ran here the moment I could get away.”

When you finally allow him to pull away, he hands you the flowers, and you call room service for a vase and a first-aid kit

You sit Shoto on the bed and tend to his minor wounds, then order some of your favorite comfort foods for a very late dinner

Shoto is never one to discuss his missions right after the fact, so instead you just talk about nonsense things, like the most recent episode of your favorite show to watch together, and where the two of you wanted to go on your next vacation

Afterward, the two of you lay in the dark, so tangled together that it’s nearly impossible to tell who’s whom

Neither of you are tired at all, realizing fully that the privilege of getting to hold each other like you are was almost taken away that day

You feel your eyes start to well up at just how much you love the man next to you, realizing how much you need him

Shoto seems to sense that you’re going to a dark place, so he traces his fingers lightly against your cheek and breaks the silence.

“I forgot to tell you. I extended our stay here so we can still celebrate like we were planning to. I’m sorry I had to go today.”

“Shoto, you don’t have to be sorry.” You cup his cheek back, a few tears spilling out of your eyes as they meet his. “I’m just so glad you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”

Yaoyorozu Momo

Recently, an adorable little paint-your-own-pottery studio had opened on yours and Momo’s route home

You two had always meant to go for a fun date, but never really had the time, so when a Valentine’s event is announced, you both leap at the opportunity and reserve your spots right away

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you and Momo show up half an hour early for the event, wearing coordinating shades of red and pink

Laughing at your accidental matching, the two of you kill the time until the event begins by taking a million photos together

When the doors to the shop open and you’re finally allowed in, Momo’s eyes nearly pop out of her head in excitement, and you just know it’s going to become a regular date spot for the two of you

The shop is decorated like a romantic tea shop straight out of a cheesy movie, with lace doilies marking work stations, faux roses as centerpieces, and red, white, and pink balloons covering the ceiling

The special event involves painting spindly teacups with handles shaped like hearts, the workstations supplied with punch and sweets, all colored and shaped for the holiday

“Look at these!” She exclaims, picking up the ceramic cup at her workstation. “What should we paint on them?”

“Why don’t we do a matching design?” you suggest. “That way we can remember this even better.”

“Yes, let’s do that!” she agrees. “What design should we do, then?”

You two decide to keep it simple: paint the mugs solid baby pink, stamp tiny red hearts all around, and then Momo would use her elegant handwriting and paint both of your initials in calligraphy on one of the faces.

You ready your stations and sit shoulder-to-shoulder as you work, chatting and giggling the entire time, occasionally nudging each other playfully with your legs

“Could you hold the cup at this angle for me while I do the calligraphy?” she requests, which gives you an excuse to sit even closer to her, the scent of her rosy perfume engulfing you

“I wish I had handwriting like that,” you whine, watching her paint the graceful swirls of your initials, followed by the date below.

“I can teach you,” she offers, coming to stand behind you. “Here.”

She puts her hand over yours, and guides it along in the shape of the letters, her free arm looping around the front of your shoulders in a casual hug

“See? You’ve done it!”

“It still doesn’t look nearly as good as yours.”

“Well, my heart stamps don’t look nearly as good as yours. I don’t think I applied enough pressure.” She returns to her own seat, stares at you for a few moments, then giggles. “Speaking of, you’ve got paint on your face. Come here.”

You lean forward so she can wipe off the paint with a gentle touch, and she places a kiss on the now-clean spot.

“There. All better.”

When the two of you finish painting the mugs, you turn them into the counter so they can be finished in the kiln, then sit by the window of the shop to enjoy your sweets while you wait

“I’m very excited about these cups,” Momo says, reaching out for your hand. “They’ll be a lovely little keepsake.”

“Me, too,” you agree, resting your head on her shoulder. “It’ll be nice to have tea in them every evening.”

“Exactly. And if there’s ever a time when we have to be separated, whether it be for hero work or some other reason, we can bring our cups with us to remember that the other is always there, waiting to come have tea together.”

Shigaraki Tomura:

Despite his villainous ideals, in romance, Shiggy is actually quite sweet, if not a little clumsy

When you first became close to him, his unhealthy lifestyle and lack of self-care worried you, so you made a habit of cooking for Shigaraki, and leaving a week’s worth of nutritious meals in the League’s fridge for him

He had never revealed this to you, but he appreciated it so much, and wanted to return the favor

When Toga mentioned something about Valentine’s Day, he knew that it was his perfect opportunity, and made his plans by ordering everyone of the League to get out and stay out for the night

He then did some research about something good to make you, wracking his brain to try and remember what you’ve mentioned liking, until he remembers a very important fact:

He can’t cook.

At all.

Has never even once tried.

Which poses an obvious problem.

He panicked for a few moments, until he landed on a new, and possibly better, idea

When you arrive for the date, dressed comfortably (because, as much as you love Shigaraki, you know that there’s no way you’ll be going out for Valentine’s Day), you’re a little bit surprised to find him standing in the kitchen

“Shiggy?” You approach the counter warily. “What are we doing tonight?”

“I can’t cook. I want to know how.”

“You want me to teach you how to cook?”

“Yes. I want to know how to make your favorite meal.”

“Okay. That’s simple enough.” You make to join him in the kitchen, but he blocks your path.

“No. I want to make this for you. Just sit down and...tell me what to do.”

That proves to be quite a bit more difficult, as you never truly understood just how hard it would be to explain cooking to someone that has never used more than a microwave before

The music you had put on in the background was quickly drowned out by his frustrated swears, and you can tell that there are times when he almost loses his temper, but holds it together for the sake of your Valentine’s gift

A couple of utensils do fall victim to his decay, though, and he subtly tries to sweep the remains away in embarrassment.

At one point, his poor knife technique leaves a decently sized cut on his finger, and you jump into action, running for a First-Aid kit

“I’m not a child,” he mutters as you clean the small wound, avoiding your eyes.

“I know,” you reply lightly, pressing a playful kiss to the bandage you had just secured.

As Shigaraki comes close to finishing the meal, you raid Kurogiri’s stores for your favorite bottle of wine, pouring two glasses and setting them out on the table.

“Does this look right?” Shigaraki asks once the final timer goes off, warily holding out his creation.

“You tell me,” you answer. “I’ve made this for you before. It looks the same to me.”

When the two of you sit down and portion out the meal, Shigarki neglects his own plate as he watches you take your first bite

You fight to keep your face neutral, because honestly, it’s god awful, even though you had been right there the whole time, telling him exactly what to do

But you really didn’t expect anything more from a first time-cook, and even though the flavor is completely wrong, you still enjoy it, because you can practically taste how much this prickly mass-murderer actually cares for you

And as twisted as your situation is, you wouldn’t change it for the world

“Is it good?” Shigaraki mumbles from across the table, pulling you from your thoughts.

You take a sip of your wine. “Thank you so much, Tomura. This was such a thoughtful gift. I really appreciate it.”

“I knew it. It’s shit.” He pushes his own plate away in frustration. “I just wanted to pay back a favor and I can’t even do that right.”

“Shig, what did I just say? I appreciate this so much.” You round the table to his seat, rubbing his shoulders and planting a kiss on the top of his head. “Of course your first attempt doesn’t work. But that gives us something new to do together. For tonight, we’ll order some takeout, but starting tomorrow, I’ll give you another cooking lesson, and then another, and another, and another... as many as it takes until you can make a whole meal for me by yourself. Deal?”

He meets your gaze with a puppy-dog expression, placing his palms over where your hands rested on his chest.

“Deal.”

Dabi/Todoroki Touya:

Let’s just say that Dabi isn’t one to ignore traditions.

He’s one to very openly and dramatically oppose them.

You were anxious if not a little worried to see what he was going to have planned for Valentine’s Day- but, honestly, as his partner, you’re equally as unconventional in your own ideals

And he doesn’t disappoint, coming home with tickets to a ghost tour at the most haunted spot in town.

“Do they even do these on Valentine’s Day?”

“Obviously. That’s when I got the tickets for.” He shrugs. “Apparently it’s a thing that people do.”

“Hopefully not very many people. You know how we hate crowds.”

“And hopefully it’s not overtly themed for this asinine holiday.” He takes your waist and whispers the next words in your ear. “The idea of a dark room and an invisible audience is romantic enough.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I just made you more excited, didn’t I?”

“You’ll have to wait until the day to find out.”

When Valentine’s Day arrives, you dress for the occasion and meet Dabi at a glamorous hotel in an older part of town

Before the tour begins, the guide allows the guests to go to the bar for some drinks, and begin to tell the story of the hotel and the paranormal activity that had sparked the attraction

Dabi seems uninterested, taking in the architecture of the historic buidling and peering down random hallways

“I’m getting bored of this,” he mutters in your ear. “I’m ready to see something interesting.”

“Shh, Dabi, I’m trying to listen,” you whisper back.

He responds by pinching your ass. “So, are you in a naughty mood tonight? Noted.”

“Stop it,” you mutter, lightly pushing him away, but your flushed skin is a dead giveaway to how you truly feel about the situation.

When the tour actually starts, you and Dabi round out the end of the group as it descends into a long, dark hallway.

Eventually, you feel Dabi’s hand leave its spot around your waist, but you’re so distracted listening the tour guide tell stories at the front to even notice.

Until cold hands grab you from you behind and give you a violent shake, growling animalistically in your ear

You let out a terrified scream, but the laugh that comes after is all-too-familiar

“Dammit, Dabi!” you gasp, doubling over to your breath and quiet your heartbeat.

“Aha.” His hands trail down your sides and squeeze your waist. “Gotcha.”

You eventually reach the main event of the tour, which is an old storeroom that had been unused for years due to the intense paranormal activity

Dabi actually stood still next to you with his arm slung around your shoulders, interested for the first time that night as the guide used the ghost box and actually got answers from the spirits that occupied the room.

Though there are a few times when you have to stop him from pulling some prank to scare the other people taking the tour, trying to convince them that they’re actually in immediate danger of possession

When the event is over, however, and the guide is ushering people back down the hallway, Dabi pulls you into a closet, igniting a small flame on his palm and pressing a finger to his lips

When the noise of the crowd filing out is gone, he presses forward forcefully and starts to bury you in deep, passionate kisses

“Wait, wait.” You pull back once you realize what his idea is. “Isn’t this a little...scary?”

“Isn’t that what makes it fun?”

Aizawa Shota

Valentine’s Day happened to fall around one of Aizawa’s busiest times at UA, and he was so tied up and tired that you had barely seen one another lately.

So, when he remembers what’s coming up and drowsily asks you what you want to do for Valentine’s Day, you surprise him.

“I’ve already made plans for us,” you reveal, handing him a printed itinerary. “I booked us a spot at a day spa. Those are all the treatments we’ll be doing.”

“Why’d you choose this? I’m curious.”

“You need some time to relax, and I want to spend time with you when your mind is on something other than which one of your students is going to get broken next.”

“Fair enough.”

On the morning of, the two of you check into the spa, and are instructed to go change into the fluffy bathrobes they provided

“Do I really have to put this on?” he complains, holding it as one might hold a dirty diaper.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask, already changed into yours.

“I don’t know how I feel about my chest being out on display like this.”

“Well, I’ll like it.” You snake your hand up his shirt and rake your nails down his skin. “C’mon. We’re going to be late for our couple’s massage.”

Once Aizawa has reluctantly changed, the two of you start off your day with massages and facials

You had arranged for him to get a special eye treatment, and the small sounds of relief from his table reveals that your gift is very much appreciated.

“Are you relaxed?” you inquire as you move on from the massage room to your next destination.

“More relaxed I’ve been since I stepped through the doors of UA for the first time.”

“Well, are you relaxed enough to get a hair treatment?”

“Honestly? Bring it on.”

When Aizawa is laying back in a chair, a towel wrapped around his head and a styling cape draped over his robe, you can’t help but snap photos of the slightly comical scene

“Are you taking pictures?” he grumbles.

“Do you mind that I am?”

“Just as long as my students never see it.”

“Noted,” you reply, adding the photo to an album of embarrassing pictures you planned to show them at the end of the term.

After finishing the hair treatment- Aizawa’s hair looking better than you could ever dream yours would- and moving on to a high-tech infrared light treatment, you finished out the day with a soak in the spa’s top-rate onsen, reserved for just the two of you

You sit in comfortable silence in the hot water, bodies pressed close to each other

Shota’s arm was draped around your shoulder, and you loosely held the hand that fell across your body

When you lay your ear on his chest, you notice that his heartbeat is the calmest you’ve ever heard it

“So, did the spa serve its purpose?” you ask, tilting your head up to gaze at him.

“It did. Though I think it was less the spa’s doing, and more the fact that I spent an entire day with you.”

You hum happily, reaching up and tapping his chin. “Nice and well rested now, are you? You sure look pretty.”

He chuckles lightly, running a hand through your hair. “So do you.”

“Well, there’s still about an hour left until our dinner reservation,” you observe, noticing the clock on the wall. “Is there anything you want to do to kill the time before then?”

“We’re both sitting in hot water, naked,” he replies matter-of-factly. “The answer should be obvious.”

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gucciwins · 4 years ago

Text

Frosty the Snowman

Harry and Y/N love the holiday season but Harry takes the teasing a bit to far and well Y/N decides to give it right back.

Word Count: 5126

A/N: hello! thank you so much to @goldenbluesuit for organizing this wonderful christmas fic challenge. thank you for allowing me to participate, kate. i’m so happy i got to be a part of it. merry christmas and happy holidays to you all. sending you all a big hug and lots of love.

_____

Christmas has never been much of importance in your life.

That was until you began dating Harry.

Harry and his family loved celebrating in particular because Harry was gone for so many months of the year. They loved giving gifts, and Harry loved spoiling his family. He was a true family man who loved to be doted on by his mother and teased relentlessly by his older sister. His smile never leaves his face when he's with them.

Ever since Harry found out how you spent the holidays alone drinking wine and hot chocolate on and off and binging all the best holiday movies. He declared that was not acceptable and that furthermore and until the end of time you would be spending it with him and his family.

The first year was something out of a storybook, a house full of kids and adults, Christmas music all day, and a big festive dinner. Gifts passed around, photos being taken to be added to the end of year scrapbooks. Lots of stories being told; honestly, it overwhelmed you.

Anne found you outside wrapped up in Harry's coat that you swiped before slipping out unseen. She stood next to you, overlooking her garden with you. "My son loves you; he's brought you here not to overwhelm you but to let you know that you have a family here, and you always will." You let your tears run free, feeling comforted, and loved. "I've never seen him shine as bright as he does when he's with you and when he's speaking of you. We all want you here as much as he does." Anne then pulled you into a long hug, the motherly hug you never got growing up. Reminded you not to stay out too long.

Three Christmases later, you now take part in family traditions, helping Anne cook dinner and staying in sweats and playing family games all of Boxing Day.

It's what makes your move to London with your boyfriend of four years easy. Knowing they want you there, knowing that the love Harry has for you won't fade, you've gone through many hurdles together, and it only strengthened your bond to one another.

Four years together, and you're still learning new things about each other, like Harry having to have coffee first thing in the morning, bread was a must-have always in the house, and that he owned more mugs than he needed. He picked up that you adored your shoes, meaning you wouldn't throw them out until they were ripped and beat up enough for a new pair. Also learned that you rather eat lots of fruit during the day than making food in the kitchen because it meant more dishes that would be needed to wash. You loved doing the laundry, Harry knew it was to steal his shirts, but he didn't mind. He always knew where to find them.

The one thing that really surprised him was your love for Christmas music; you knew every song, maybe couldn't remember the name, but you would be able to sing it. It never failed to make him smile; you even knew ‘Feliz Navidad’ and didn't butcher it as he did.

Your love for Christmas music was signified because you never celebrated the holiday, and music was easy to access. It was what you immersed yourself in.

This is why Harry is confused when he hears you begin to sing ‘Frosty the Snowman’ under your breath, then switching to a soft hum in the tune of the song as you start to place your freshly washed sweats in their drawers.

Harry was not sure why you did that; you loved singing out loud. You had a decent voice, as you liked to say, but why switch.

You're clueless to Harry watching you, deep in thought, trying his best to analyze you.

Then Harry gasps; it all clicks, making sense.

You raise your head to look at him, shutting the drawer with your hip. "What?"

"You don't know the lyrics." Harry accuses.

"To what?" You step towards the bed, wanting to finish the rest of this to finally go down and each lunch.

"Frosty the Snowman."

"I do." You defend.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"No."

"Why not?"

You frown before taking a deep breath and begin to hum the song correctly to Harry.

"Okay, you know the tune, now the lyrics." He gestures for you to go on.

"Frosty the snowman..." Your voice dies down, you rake your brain for the correct lyrics, sending a smaller prayer you're right. "had a shiny nose?"

"Oh, this is golden, love." He's laughing now. It's filling up the room.

"Harry," You whine.

"You call yourself the Christmas Queen." Harry is holding his stomach, his laughter getting to be too much. "Next, you're going to tell me you don't know the lyrics to 'All I Want For Christmas Is You.'"

"How dare you, that came out in our birth year." You're over making fun of you.

"Okay fine, but really so many years, and you never learned. You said you love all Christmas music, and well, that's a classic, dove."

You run a hand through your hair, your fingers getting caught on the tips for not brushing it out. "I never actually got to make a snowman, so I never listened to the lyrics."

"Are you secretly a Grinch as well?" Harry teases.

You throw a balled-up shirt of his and hit him square in the face; it quiets him down. "Conversation over."

You walk out of the room, leaving him alone, to his chuckling.

_____

In your home, something was always baking.

It was either Harry trying to better his last bread or you baking a new vegan cake that Gemma sent you.

It's something you both loved to do.

For you, though, it was your own form of meditation. No matter the time of day, if you felt your head spinning, you'd just head to the kitchen and begin to take out ingredients letting that be your only focus. The Great British Baking Show also brings a lot of comfort to you, Harry happily laying his head on your lap, your hand running through his hair as you just let the show play on and on.

Now, you're in the kitchen for a whole other reason; you're baking gingerbread cookies, from snowflakes to snowman and even little reindeer. Harry has invited friends over for a fun holiday decorating party. It sounded like a good idea until he left you to do it all yourself as he ran errands that he pushed off for a week.

Thankfully, there were no distractions during the time it took you to make one hundred cookies because there would be casualties during the decorating. Just as you were putting the last dozen on the cooling rack, does your phone ring causing it to cut off Paul McCartney's singing of 'Wonderful Christmastime.'

As you pick it up to answer, you check the caller id and see that it's Gemma calling.

Gemma forgoes a greeting and goes straight to the reason for her call.

"You don't know 'Frosty the Snowman!'" She exclaims more than asks.

"I'm going to kill him." You groan into the phone.

Gemma laughs, "No, no, please don't. Mum likes you too much to see you behind bars."

"Gem, he's been relentless." Thinking back to the past few days and how he'd randomly come up to you and just begin to sing the lyrics to you, not shutting up until you tickled him too much to continue. "Please don't let it come up later."

"I've got you," Gemma assures you.

"Thank you."

"As long," Gemma begins, but you groan jokingly into the phone.

"Go on," You sigh, knowing this is how the eldest Styles sibling acts.

"As long as you tell me what Harry bought mum for Christmas."

"Alright, fair." Very well, Harry would most likely spoil this himself the closer the holiday arrives.

Just as you were about to spoil Harry's gift, he walks through the kitchen, saved by the devil himself. "I'll tell you later when you get here." You tell Gemma, smiling at Harry as you bid his sister goodbye.

"Who was it, love?" Harry asks, kissing you lightly on your lips, being able to taste the gingerbread on your lips that makes him beeline to the cooled cookies.

"Gems, a huge birdie told her I don't know the lyrics to a popular song." You lean against the counter, smiling as he has a cookie in hand already; he is also a big reason you made so many.

"Hey," He says, offended, a cookie half shoved in his mouth. "I'm not huge."

"Never said it was you, hun." You smirk. "Thanks for fessing up."

He pouts, not liking that you outsmarted him.

"Might want to watch the cookies." You pinch his love handles, snatching what was left of the cookie from his hand and heading upstairs.

Harry watches you walk away, upset that you stole his cookie; also, he knows you love his winter gains.

_____

You and Harry are up fairly early, he likes to go on a run around the neighborhood, but you like going to the park. This morning you skipped your run because Harry was meeting up with a friend for breakfast.

Sure, you got up at your usual time at 7am and began to prepare yourself breakfast. You usually drank coffee with Harry and seeing as he wasn't here, you decided to skip it, instead going straight to the fridge to get the fruits and orange juice to make a smoothie. Something simple, not wanting to clean much after.

As you finally settled on the couch, getting ready to read Educated by Tara Westover, a book Gemma recommended to her then gifted to her. Tara's memoir is her story of how she comes from a Mormon background and recounts how she educated herself to go to college and learn about the world. It's a Friday, and what better way to spend it lost in a book.

You had just flipped it open when your phone rang, alerting you to a message. As much as you didn't want to check because you were finally in a comfortable position, you knew it could easily be Harry checking in who gets worried about not getting a reply even five minutes after. He's a worrier at heart.

As you retrieve it and settle yourself back down, not at all comfortable anymore, you see it's a message from Iz. She was the first friend you made on your own that Harry didn't introduce you to. Iz saw you at a coffee shop you began to frequent and complimented your tote bag that had wildflowers embroidered on it. You thanked her and shared you made it. Iz was shocked, just throwing compliment after compliment. You offered to make her one, but she said you had better teach her instead. Thus, a friendship began.

Her message read:

Radio 1 Breakfast Show. Listen in!

It was definitely a strange message coming from Iz, but you did as told.

Greg James was saying goodbye to his special guest, no idea who it was. "Before he signs off, he's going to play you one of his favorite Christmas songs," Greg says, then silences, allowing his guest a moment before speaking.

"This week's Christmas song is in honor of my girlfriend who loves singing Frosty the Snowman... without knowing the lyrics. Happy Holidays."

Your jaw drops.

That your boyfriend's voice. You are the girlfriend.

He went on record.

Harry really went on live radio to tell thousands that you don't know the lyrics to a Christmas classic.

You want to laugh because you never expected this from him and are annoyed that something personal now the whole world will know by the end of the day.

You can't wait until he arrives home.

"Harry Edward Styles!" You yell as you hear Harry open the front door.

He looks sheepish. "Yes, my darling angel."

"You told me you were having breakfast with Greg James, not that you were going to be on the Breakfast show."

"I took muffins, and they provided coffee, therefore, breakfast." Harry defends

"You exposed me to all of the UK to not knowing 'Frosty the Snowman.'"

"No one knows you're my girlfriend." Harry tries to brush it off.

"We've been dating four years; I'm not that much of a secret. Anne posts me on her story from time to time, and your friends follow my Instagram, fuck; you've introduced me to Greg." You're not angry, more annoyed than anything because he won't let this go.

"It's just to give everyone a good laugh; no one is going to hold it against you."

"No, just my boyfriend and everyone who listens to the Breakfast Show." You cross your arms before storming up the stairs away from Harry.

"Love? You're not actually mad, right?" Harry asks, pushing the bedroom door open.

"You even got Iz on it!" Your turn around with a pout on your face.

Harry laughs. "I honestly thought she wouldn't go through with it."

"Well, I see where her loyalty lies."

Harry steps close and pulls you into his chest. You sigh, wrapping your arms around him. He knows how much you love his hugs.

"I promise this is the last I mention of it."

You frown into his chest, not at all believing him. Harry pats your bum, and you take that as the queue to look up at him. He's smiling down at you, leaning in to give you a quick peck. "I promise."

"Okay, then." You lean in and kiss him, firmer this time and much longer. Harry sneaks his tongue in, instantly getting a moan out of you.

"I know how you can make it up to me." You gasp, pulling away,

Harry raises an eyebrow at you. "Do tell."

A smirk on both your faces as you guide him to the bed, very much hungry for something that wasn't breakfast.

_____

Harry has the Christmas playlist running; it's a Sunday, meaning they spend it at home doing absolutely nothing. To be truthful, they rolled out of bed past ten and still have their pj's on. Not at all bothering to change, why waste more clothes if no one will see them like this in the comfort of their own home.

You cooked grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and now are playing a game of scrabble.

Harry puts down the word 'light,' then reaching his hand into the black pouch to pick five letters to have seven once again. You are looking back and forth between the board and your letters, thinking of the best place to place your word.

"I've got a question," Harry says, looking at you, wanting all your attention as well.

"What is it?" You're focused on your letters. Rearranging them, not putting down the 'q' in your hand. It's currently useless but will eventually give you a word to win the game. Not that you both ever keep points, oh no, that stopped after you beat harry 120 to 66, and he flipped the board, causing letters to fly everyone. You still claim that there are missing letters.

"Frosty is a cute name."

"Reminds me of that Wendy's dessert. I'm still not sure what made it so good." You say, maybe you should get up and eat some. Harry did just pick up new flavors that he had been wanting to try something about them being richer in flavor.

"You're getting off track."

"Sorry, Frosty is cute for what?" You don't let him answer before you're speaking again. "A dog, did you get a dog?" You pause, looking up at him, "a cat, did Anne find a stray and wants to give them to us?" You wait, but Harry is about to crush all your excitement.

"None of that." He shakes his head at you, and disappointment fills you immediately.

"Well, can this conversation end then? I'm disappointed."

"Darling," Harry chastises you for not letting him go on.

"Go on then, mate." You gesture him to continue. Shifting your attention away from the game in front of you.

Harry frowns, his eyebrows pinching together in the sweet way that makes you want to rub them out until he's relaxed. "Why'd you call me, mate?"

"Oh, I've called you this before." You brush off Harry's reactions; he's always dramatic.

"I'm not your friend." He states.

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head and really look at Harry. "Well, of course, you are boyfriend," You emphasize, dragging out the word. "You're my best friend."

"You can't say boyfriend anymore. I'm your fiancé now." Harry states proudly, but you feel a little dumbfounded, not knowing why he is saying that.

Your eyes widen when you look down at your left hand, and no ring rests on your left ring finger.

"Fuck, I missed your proposal, and the ring got lost." You pout, trying your best to stop the smirk from coming out.

"Darling, I'm sorry." Harry quickly apologizes. "I'm still your boyfriend, but I will be proposing soon." He promises. "Shit, you were supposed to not even know. I really am bad at hiding things."

"Fuck, you really are." You laugh, "but boyfriend sounds cute. Can't I still say boyfriend when you do?"

"Doesn't fiancé sound nicer?" Harry tries.

You shrug. "Not as fun, husband is nice."

"You're rejecting my future proposal, then." Harry is teasing, and you can tell by the sparkle in his forest eyes.

"Of course not, you dummy. You can be my fiancé and my boyfriend." You tell him like it was the most obvious answer.

"Seems like a lot of work."

"Rude." You stick your tongue at him.

"Right, love, well try to remember I'm your husband once we're married, no more boyfriend."

"I will, hubby. You're going to be my hubby."

You both go silent.

You burst out laughing, "That's awful, I hate it."

Harry chuckles, nodding his head. "Yeah, I do as well."

"This is why I'm the brains in the relationship."

"Right," Harry rolls his eyes at you, not at all agreeing.

"Uh, darling, I went to uni and got two degrees while you only finished school at sixteen before going off to steal millions of hearts around the world."

"Including yours." He teases.

"I was always more a Zayn girl." You correct him.

Harry throws his arms up, "Can never let me win, can you?"

"Nope"

"We're off-topic." Harry realizing how far they strayed from their starting point.

"Where did we start?"

"Frosty."

You sit back, resting against the couch; you take him in and smile at how cuddly he looks in the purple robe that he stopped letting you use. "Well, go on."

"Seeing as-" He pauses, hearing the familiar opening notes to the song he was thinking of. 'Frosty, the Snowman' is now his favorite song. "Perfectly timed, as you don't know the lyrics to Frosty the snowman."

"Gosh, you're never going to let this go," You grumble.

"Nope. I figured we will have a little fun with this."

"More fun than the breakfast show."

He gives you a pointed look.

You let out a long sigh, "Let's hear it."

"You learn all the lyrics and sing it for me, and I'll let you get us a dog or cat." Harry's grinning at his idea, knowing you'll agree without a fight.

"Can we go to the shelter?" You look like a kid on Christmas morning who had just received their presents from Santa, and in a way, you have.

"Yes, we can. Only if you can learn the entire song." Harry tells you again, wanting to emphasize the singing.

"Done deal."

"Great, I'm giving you a week."

You smile wide, nodding, looking, finally focusing back down at your words and the ones Harry has placed. You put down the word 'queen,' and this wins you the non-official game. Harry looks down at his poorly hidden score sheet and curses under his breath.

"I win."

Safe to say you lost more letters that day.

_____

It's been a week, and Harry is patiently waiting on their bed as you get ready in your shared closet. Your shared closet is large and mainly holds all of Harry's clothing. You definitely have a nice share of clothes filled with gifts from friends as well as Harry's friends and your treasured thrifted pieces. You smile at yourself in the full-length mirror.

Harry really can't begin to imagine what you have in store for him.

The speaker is set out and ready, and all that is needed is for you to make your entrance.

You shake out your hands in hopes of ridding yourself of the nerves. You look yourself over one last time before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open.

"Close your eyes." You call out.

Harry rolls his eyes but does as he is told.

You walk over to the speaker and press play, letting the music fill the room, making your way to stand in front of Harry, who slowly opens his eyes.

He gasps; he feels himself start to get hard. His eyes can't seem to take everything in fast enough. You smirk, loving the reaction you got out of him. It gives you the extra boost of confidence you were needing.

You stand there, hand on your hip in a sexy snowman outfit to go with the performance you are about to give.

The dress, if you can consider it with how short it is, has three black buttons in the center. The material hugs your chest nicely, giving Harry a nice view of your breasts that are close to popping out. The dress hugs your waist and begins to flow out right past your butt. You wore your favorite black heels that Harry sometimes begs you not to take off. You had on a plaid scarf and a black hat that matched it perfectly.

You were the human version of the snowman except for a more rated r version.

Harry is sitting his mouth wide open at a loss for words. You blow him a kiss before letting the song lyrics flow out of you.

Frosty the snowman

Was a jolly happy soul

With a corncob pipe and a button nose

And two eyes made out of coal

You sway your hips side to side, singing, enjoying the ravenous stare he was giving you. You throw the hat, letting it fall at his feet, but not even that breaks the gaze he has on you, not wanting to miss a single movement of yours.

Frosty the snowman is a fairy tale they say

He was made of snow

But the children know

How he came to life one day

You take a few steps forward, but never enough to allow him to touch you, and he's craving it; you know he is. His hands are gripping his thighs, his knuckles turning whiter by the seconds.

He still hasn't said a word. You have him mesmerized.

You sing the lyrics proudly, knowing you practiced all week for this moment. The moment Harry will never forget all the teasing he had been doing, always forgetting you win these battles.

There must have been some magic in that

Old silk hat they found

For when they placed it on his head

He began to dance around

"Baby," Harry breathes out, putting a hand out to touch you, but you take a step back before he can do so.

You smirk, shaking your head no at him. You were having a lot more fun than you expected.

You bend over, slipping off your heels, never breaking eye contact with Harry; he could very easily see up the dress that you had nothing underneath. His green eyes turned dark, and you swore your heart stopped, and you were sure he was about to attack. You were the prey, taunting him until he had enough, but surprisingly enough, he took a deep breath, and his composure was back well, just a bit of it.

O Frosty the snowman

Was alive as he could be

And the children say he could laugh and play

Just the same as you and me

You stopped right in front of him. Harry's eyes trained on your red lips, hanging out to every word you were singing. You reached a hand back and began to unzip the dress. The grin on your face excited for the next reaction you were about to receive.

Once you reached the bottom of your back, the dress fell to the floor. Harry let out a loud gasp. Your breasts on display, the small owl tattoo on your hip staring at him, he could see how wet you were, and all he wanted was his head between your thighs as you screamed his name.

You were a dream. You missed Harry's touch. It was the reason you stepped close enough for him to finally pull you in.

He led them down the streets of town

Right to the traffic cop

And he only paused a moment when

He heard them holler "Stop!"

Harry has no expression on his face as he sits you on his lap. He lets his head fall into your next, feeling how wet you are through his thin sweats. You move to stand up, but he grips your hips tightly, thrusting his hips against yours, searching for some kind of relief or a reaction from you because you still haven't stopped singing.

"Baby, stop singing." His hand is cradling your cheek as his lust-filled eyes stare at you.

You shake your head, not letting him distract you. The only piece of clothing left was the scarf, and Harry lets out a growl before ripping your scarf off your neck, throwing it off to the side.

Now you truly sit there naked in his lap, and you feel all the control you have over him. The song is coming to an end, meaning you've got to remove yourself from your favorite place to sit but knowing you'll be back there soon enough.

Frosty the snowman

Had to hurry on his way

But he waved goodbye, saying

"Don't you cry I'll be back again someday"

You sing the final lyrics in his ear before walking away to turn off the speaker, an extra sway to your hips, knowing Harry is very well still watching your every move. You stand a delighted look on your face as you wait for his praise.

"Those were the longest two minutes of my life," Harry says; he puts a hand over his heart, feeling like it might just burst out. "I'm never going to be able to listen to this song in public or around anyone that isn't you."

You smirk, thrilled to hear that.

"What did I do to end up with someone as beautiful and perfect as you in my life." He confesses.

"Probably stopped a war in a past life." You throw out jokingly.

Harry puckers his lips and makes grabby hands at you. "Kissy, please?"

And who are you to say no? He spreads his legs, letting you step in between. You slip your fingers into his hair, pulling back with enough force to have him let out a moan. You lean down and connect your lips in a hot kiss, one that has Harry gripping you tightly wherever he can get his hands on. You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you happily give up the control to him.

You pull back and rest a hand on his chest, preventing him from pulling you back for you. You wipe your thumb over his bottom lip that now has some of your red lipstick. "Seems like I won, sweets."

"I feel like the real winner here," Harry tells you cheekily, sneaking a kiss to both your boobs. You giggle, not at all surprised by his action.

"Well," You fiddle with the collar of his shirt. "Why don't you show me how winners celebrate?"

"With pleasure." Harry groans standing up quickly and pushing you back against the best. He strips as fast as he can, not without a small stumble; you're sure to keep your giggle quiet, knowing very well how easily he gets embarrassed.

He is quick to get on top and kisses you hard. His kisses are always soft, but it seems the teasing seemed to flip a switch, one that you will happily remember to look to turn on again on a later date. Tonight, you are ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

Harry connects their lips, ready for an endless night of pleasure and love.

_____

Christmas cards were a lovely tradition. Harry insisted they started because he wanted to show off his beautiful girlfriend to his friends and family. He also liked them handwritten because it added a nice personal touch. Who were you to argue about it?

This year you were the one excited to send them out.

It read: Merry Christmas from our beautiful family to yours

You and Harry sat in front of the fireplace, four stockings hanging behind you. Harry made you sit in his lap, wanting to show off your matching two-piece buffalo plaid pajamas. You both had the biggest grins on your face, eyes shining bright. Next to you, laying on top of a box that was wrapped with blue sloth wrapping paper, was a one-year-old Australian shepherd that had spent the better of six months in the shelter because the small pup was quiet who didn't do well with people, but that changed instantly the minute he met you. You decided on the name Frosty for him. Not only did Harry get you the dog of your dreams but a small kitten as well. You brought home Snow, a six-month white Birman kitten who was the rut of his siblings, and how could you just not bring him home with you with his big blue eyes staring at you begging to add to your family because he had lots of love to give. At least that's what you told Harry what the look he was giving you meant. The two siblings laid next to each other, both surprisingly staring right at the camera, making it their best Christmas photo yet.

A photo can honestly speak a thousand words because one glance at this photo tells you how much love there is in that home and their relationship.

Christmas was all about spreading joy and love, and well, Harry accomplished just that for you.

_____

thank you so much for reading! i honestly hoped you loved it and would love to hear what you thought so send me a message if you like.

i love you!

#harry styles #gbsxmaschallenge #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #christmas #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff

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