#it's such a tiny detail but my sister's kids spotted it immediately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

super-unpredictable98 · 1 year

Text

Make Me Sway | Song of Sway Lake AU

Chapter 5: Hidden Gems

Warning: Strong language, mention of death, smut, a little angst

(Make Me Sway masterlist)

"Thank you, Ollie," Lada curled up against the wall of the supply closet, but jumped when she felt the wood budge behind her. "Fuck, what's this?"

"Looks like a door," he pointed his lantern at the spot where the opening seemed to be.

"Wanna see what's behind it?" She smiled.

"What if it's bad?"

"What if it's good?"

"Fine, fine..." Ollie gave her the lantern. "You go first then."

She slowly crawled inside the secret den and up the wooden stairs, and her mouth fell open. "Oliver! Come here, come here! The records..."

"What?" He followed. "Oh, my God!"

That place was minuscule, could barely fit both of them at the same time, and was filled to the brim with records of all kinds, drawings, notes, and letters on the walls. It was like in that tiny little room, their father was still alive.

"Music for my son Ollie who understands me," Lada read one of the notes on the wall. Her eyes filled with tears, she could almost hear his voice in each word.

"Music for my daughter Lada who turned beauty into kindness," Ollie offered her a bag. Inside the bag there was a music box with a pretty ballerina on top, it was for sure made by hand and had details in what seemed to be real gold.

"I miss him so much," she sobbed quietly. "He wasn't great to himself, but he was a great dad to us when he could."

Oliver nodded. Seeing that vulnerability he never sensed in his grandma, who proudly announced to everyone she didn't cry, made him regret ever treating his sister like he did. She was just like him, someone trying to fight the role that was imposed on her ever since she was a child.

Lada looked through the records while Ollie read through the catalog their father left behind detailing every item from his collection. Right at the end, he found a photo of their old man when he was just a kid.

"You're not ugly," Oliver whispered, sobbing as well.

"No, he isn't, and neither are you," Lada pulled out a record wrapped in brown paper. "Ollie... this is it. Sway Lake, the original. Still sealed."

He stared at the leather sleeve under the paper in disbelief. He had finally found his perfect record, the only thing he could never sell or give up. For a moment he feared Lada would take it and run to give it to their grandma, but she handed it to him instead.

"Dad would want you to have it," she smiled, wiping her tears away. "Take good care of the memories in there."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, I wouldn't want someone else to have it either. It's yours."

The two siblings finally hugged, really actually hugged, after the longest time. Their heartbeats were in synchrony and they found comfort in each other's arms knowing they were the only people left in the world to care for one another. It was a lonely, scary comfort.

"Let's find a safe place to hide it," Lada suggested, already making her way down the stairs with her music box in hand.

After concealing the record behind Ollie's bed and the music box under one of the floorboards in Lada's room, the two of them went back to the living room.

The others were already sitting around the table, they didn't even wait to start eating under the flickering candlelight. Half of a ham, half of a loaf of bread, half a bottle of wine, and a half conversation.

"Oh, the Arctic Sea? Oh please, try this lake, 5 AM in April," Charlie laughed delightedly at Nikolai. "Hal and I used to swim naked."

"Great topic, grandma," Lada sat in between them, slightly uncomfortable seeing him talking to her grandma alone, especially after her suspicions from earlier. He was not doing a very good job to impress her and he immediately knew it with one look at her beautiful face illuminated by the candles.

"Nikolai was telling me about his adventures. Did you know he used to go looking for soldiers in St. Petersburg with his father?"

"No, he never told me," she forced a smile.

"My pop used to take me in the spring, what he loved about the USA is you don't leave your soldiers dead in the mud. You take every soldier home, that is what makes this country the best nation on earth," Nikolai said.

"I see you didn't fix the lights?" she asked instead of engaging.

"So sorry, lovely, I couldn't. But it is more romantic this way, don't you think?" He winked.

"Does it matter? Nobody here is in the mood for romance."

Lada leaned back, her arms folded petulantly. Why was she so jealous? Of her grandmother? Maybe because that is who he wanted her to be, an old movie heroine who just doesn't even realize how charming she is.

"Why are you angry, beautiful?" Nikolai whispered, discreetly kissing her exposed shoulder while nobody was looking. "What have I done? Just tell me and I'll fix it! Unless this is about the lights, then I have to wait until morning to fix, I can't see the box when it's dark."

"Give me a break... Who are you trying to impress?"

"Nikolai and I were just talking, dear..." Charlie smiled, not knowing why seeing her grandaughter so angry made her giddy. "Your grandfather would have loved him."

"Is that so? I thought Grandpa hated those- how did he say it? Commie bastards," Lada murmured and Ollie had to cover his mouth not to laugh.

"What did you say to her? Why is your sister upset with me?" Nikolai asked Oliver, thinking maybe he had mentioned his past or some woman he had been with.

"I didn't say anything, she was happy until we got here," he whispered, also finding his sister's attitude weird after all they talked about in the secret hiding spot and the moment they shared.

"If you'll excuse me, I lost my appetite," Lada got up without waiting for her grandmother's permission, knocking over the wine bottle and spilling it all over the table.

"Lada!" Charlie screamed. "Can't you move around like a normal person? You have always been like this, knocking everything over... I don't know how you managed to get on Broadway being so ungraceful."

"Here, it's alright, no harm done," Nikolai grabbed a napkin and soaked up the mess before it could ruin any clothes. "There, brand new."

"Never look at me again," the young woman managed to hiss before storming off to her room.

She didn't understand that feeling stirring in her stomach. He talked to her grandma in the same exact way he talked to her... was that what bothered her so much? How he seemed to want to impress that old hag? It was the most confusing sensation she had ever experienced and the worst part is that her biggest wish was for him to follow her and make everything right again.

"Lada," he called from the doorstep while she watched the lake from her window. "You are scared of the dark, what are you doing all alone up here?"

"Leave me alone!" She shouted without meaning it.

"Why? What happened?"

"You know what happened!"

"I don't! Please tell me," he insisted, joining her after closing the door.

"You were... You know what you were doing. Stay away from me, you liar!" She wiped her tears, looking the other way so he wouldn't see them. "I know why you like me, the real reason."

"I want to make your grandmother like me. If she likes me, she gives her blessing and you'll be mine."

"That was not what you were doing, you were-" Lada choked on her own words. "Flirting."

He stared at her for a few moments before bursting out laughing, which only made her angrier. How dared he? All that talk of true love and now this?

"Are you jealous, my love?"

"What? No!"

"It's cute."

"SHUT UP! I saw the way you looked at her, I saw the way she looked at you, I saw the way you looked at her old photos! Get out!" Lada screamed. "Sick bastard, I'm taking a cab back to the city and I'll never set foot on this fucking house again!"

"I think you are having the same trouble as your brother... You think I like you because of the way you look and if I like you because of the way you look, I actually like her. You both put the fact that you are so similar above anything else."

"I am not stupid, Nikolai!"

"You are not, in fact, you are very smart. You are also funny, sweet, elegant, charming... You are so many things. That is you, you are the one I like."

"I don't believe you."

"You will have to, because if you don't become my girlfriend I am jumping in that lake and never coming out."

That was incredibly manipulative, Lada knew that, but she also liked it. She liked how he made it seem like there was no life for him without her.

"Just like my dad."

When Nikolai noticed his mistake, it was too late. He had already said it and probably sounded like an insensitive prick. Now he feared he ruined any chance of her saying yes. Of course he didn't mean to mock her father's death, it was just an expression, but he couldn't tell by her face how offended she was.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying that and for... trying to boast to someone else. You are the only one I want to impress. I would never look at another woman if you were mine."

"Not even her?"

"Is that even a question? Of course not!"

She giggled, looking away once again even if the darkness hid the blushing of her cheeks. She couldn't risk letting him know what sort of effect he had on her, even if she thought he already knew.

"What?" He laughed.

"Your accent."

"You have a thing for my accent, don't you?"

"Who told you that? I just thought it was funny the way you-"

"So you don't want me to speak Russian to you?" Nikolai whispered, leaning closer until his lips brushed gently the shell of her ear. "Ya khotela tebya ves' den', Lada."

She still had a bad feeling about the whole situation, but looking at someone with rose-colored glasses makes red flags seem like simple flags.

"Nikolai... your Russian does nothing to me," Lada was pretty much determined to make him beg for her, give him a couple nights to regret what he'd done.

But unfortunately, he was very clever and noticed the signs that contradicted what she was saying.

"I don't think you're being honest with me," he said while pressing open-mouthed kisses to her chest. He reached under her panties and feel her up and smiled against her feverish skin. "See? I know what I do to you, my beautiful lady of the flowers."

"No I don't- I don't wanna do it right now."

"No? Why no, beautiful?" He purred. "If your body clearly wants to."

"Because I don't want you to think... I'm easy. I'm not!"

"I know you are not, you're making me wallow around just to say yes to being my girlfriend. Usually women throw themselves at me on the first night, I had to work hard for the privilege to have you. You are not easy, I promise."

"But I'm still angry at you."

"You are? I know how to make it better," Nikolai quickly undressed and carried her to bed. She didn't protest as he slid her dress off and then her underwear until they were both skin-to-skin.

"Still angry," she muttered despite not making any effort to stop him.

"Even when you're angry you are so beautiful," he kissed down her body, giving every single inch the attention it deserved until he reached her sex. "When I was younger I learned a very good medicine for anger and sadness."

"What is it?"

He delved between her thick thighs and savored the taste of her pleasure. His tongue explored her sensitive spots, finding exactly what made her squirm the most and the more he tasted, the harder he became.

"Nicky!" Lada gasped, tugging at his short curls. "Oh fuck..."

"It looks like the effect is already happening," he teased as he caught his breath for a moment before going back to pleasuring her.

"Lada, could you stop being so childish and-" Charlie opened the door and caught a glimpse of the couple making love under the candlelight. "Oh!"

"Grandma! Get out! Can't you knock?" She cried, covering herself while Nikolai swiftly moved away, for once bothering to cover his privates, feeling like his lover would not appreciate him being so carefree in front of someone she was so jealous of.

"Can't you lock the door?" Charlie countered, leaving out how she could hear the moans from outside but still decided to barge in.

"Sorry, Mrs. Sway, it was my fault," Nikolai chuckled. "I forgot."

"Well... don't let it happen again," she stared him up and down with an intrigued look before leaving. "I'll say what I have to say tomorrow morning."

Lada groaned in frustration, on the verge of tears when her grandmother closed the door. Nikolai quickly got up to lock it, not wanting another accident.

"She was staring at you! She was- I think I'm gonna be sick!" She growled. "That fucking old hag! She can't stand to see me happy, she wants me to be miserable like her because I'm young and she's older than sliced bread!"

Nikolai wanted to say she wasn't staring, but he knew that wasn't true and Lada was much too smart to just ignore that. He felt really bad, but at the same time, he felt more wanted than he ever did before.

"Don't worry about her, darling! I am yours, I told you that," he said instead, joining her in bed once again. "Do you want to keep going?"

"I'm not in the mood anymore, she ruined it."

"Aw, my lady of the flowers," Nikolai took her in his arms, kissing her neck teasingly. "If you let her ruin our night, you are just giving her what she wants. You are so beautiful, you smell so good, your skin is so soft... I don't wanna stop, I want to make you finish properly. You look so gorgeous when I'm pleasuring you."

"Stop that, you're trying to seduce me."

"I know, and it seems like it's working," he pointed out, reaching between her legs to feel how wet she was.

Lada sighed, letting her head fall back and rest on his shoulder as he blew gently in her ear. It did feel really good before her grandma ruined the fun, why should she let her dictate when it ends?

"Can I help you get hard again?" She finally caved.

"I never stopped, my darling," he huffed a soft laugh, pulling her closer to feel his erection. "You are too perfect, just the thought of you is enough to keep me up."

Tag List: @seanfalco @firstpersonnarrator @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover

"Oh, I love younger men..." she giggled, climbing onto his lap again.

#song of sway lake fanfic #song of sway lake #song of sway lake nikolai #nikolai x oc #nikolai #fanfic #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanfic #sway lake

14 notes · View notes

slut4bluemen · 2 years

Text

Different feelings

Ao'nung X female Oc (my own 🤭)

⚠Warnings ⚠: None

Everyone knew Ao'nung as a big mouthed bully, always speaking his opinion whenever he pleased, this worsens with the Sully family.

Except for the oldest daughter, Tsu'tan, she was something else.

The day her and her freak show of a family showed up Ao'nung had immediately taken a liking to her, she had sleek pulukan like eyes and large soft lips, her hair was perfectly braided and ties back to reveal a small cut just below her cheekbone.

Her body was lean and curvy, perhaps it was the tiny human DNA she possed form her father but who knows, she was the ideal image of a beautiful Na'vi woman.

Her voice... Oh eywa it drove Ao'nung mad, he hated it yet every time she stopped speaking he yearned for her to say his name again, she had yelled at him once, over a fight with her brothers that he had engaged in, it shook him to the core.

As he lifted his fist to strike lo'ak a loud voice yelled from over them, "GET OFF THEM" Tsu'tan had barked ripping Ao'nung off her brother, he fell on his rear, his eyes wide in surprise as she continued to throw the two other Metkayina boys off Neteyam, punching the firzzy haired Eu'tok in the head before kneeing Mo'tak in the chin.

He winced as they fell back.

"Listen here Ao'nung, if you touch my brother or speak badly of him again I will skin you " he'd flinch as she poked a finger at him.

As they left the four Metkayina boys stood up, dusting themselves off.

"She's something" Eu'tok muttered holding his head, they watched as Tsu'tan led her brothers and sister back to the hut, Ao'nung couldn't keep his eyes off her, still gazing in her direction as she disappeared into the village.

"I'll tell you what she is" ao'nung muttered standing up, he dusted his butt and thighs of sand before walking back to the village.

"She's amazing... " he sighed.

Ever since then his feelings had blossomed, soon realising that he liked her, in ways he'd never thought he'd feel.

Weeks later after the teenage boys had made up they sat around a fire, whilst their parents carried on.

The glow of the fire reflected in Tsu'tans eyes as she told tall tales to Tuk, using her arms and hand to exasperate her story.

The small girl giggled and the story came to a dramatic finish, Neytiri had returned from a trip and beconed the small girl to go to bed, Tuk yawned, nodding before saying goodnight to the older Na'vi kids.

Ao'nung watched silently as he mindlessly twirled a fish on a skewer over the open flame, Tsu'tan had moved closer, taking up tuks spot.

He felt his cheeks burn as your knee touched his, he gulped.

"Do you.. Um- want some fish? " she awkwardly asked, Tsu'tan nodded, they sat in silence again.

Neteyam, Kiri, Lo'ak, Tsireya and Roxto chatted amongst each other, not paying attention to the awkward conversation between the two older Na'vi.

"Here" Ao'nung muttered passing half of the fish onto a separate leaf and giving it to Tsu'tan.

It was another half an hour before Tonowari had returned from his duties to check on his and Jake Sully's children, "Everything alright? " he asked, the five answered, he looked around.

Ao'nung and Tsu'tan had decided to seperate themselves, now perched on a rock near the shallows, deep in conversation.

Ao'nungs tail thuwaped around as he smiled, never taking his eyes off the forest girl, Tonowari smiled, it was clear as day that his son had fallen in love with Tsu'tan, he would discuss this later with Jake Sully, their two oldest childrens pairing was sure to please the people.

Tsu'tans tail swayed as she leaned forward, bringing her knees to her chest as she recounted the night before they decided to leave the Ometikata.

"... And after that I turned around, Spider had already been taken" she recalled.

"So let me get this straight.. This 'Spider', is a Sky person?... And you call him you're brother??" Ao'nung said.

She nodded, "yeah, he's our family, I don't really know the details but, his parents died in the Great War"

Ao'nung furrowed his brows as they fell into a comfortable silence, just staring out at the reef as the fish danced under the large moonlight.

"Awa'atlu is very beautiful " Tsu'tan commented.

Ao'nung smiled a small chuckle leaving his lips, "maybe one day I will be able to see the Ometikaya village" he whispered.

"Then I will see if the village's beauty matches the women that come from it"he said, his breath growing uneven.

His cheeks burned brighter than ever before as he kept his gaze on the Ometikaya girl.

She glanced back at him, with half lidded eyes, her lips parted ever so slightly, he studied her perfect heart shaped face, her sleek cheekbones, those large doe eyes.

Those lips...

He licked his own as he felt his gaze land on hers.

He finally moved forward, pressing his lips on hers.

They stayed like that, only for a second before he pulled away.

"I'm sorry I didn't... " he began before tsu'tan grabbed him by the cheek, closing the space between them once again, he leaned forward, using his hand to push her closer, their bodies melting into one another.

As he blinked his eyes open and pulled away he froze.

His friends stood behind a rock, smirks and cheeky smiles plastered on their faces, lo'ak choked back a laugh, "Did we interrupt something" Neteyam teased, Tsu'tan turned before giving them the finger.

"Get outta here you Sxoungs" she giggled.

The boys whooped as Tsu'tan grabbed Ao'nung once more.

Ao'nung felt his body melt as she held his cheek, deepening the kiss once more.

Tonowari sat by the far, although he couldn't see what the children where whooping and cheering about he had a feeling that his son had finally made his move.

He smiled.

6 notes · View notes

shoot-the-oneshot · 3 years

Note

Hey, I hoped you could do the prompt “You have no right to look this cute” with Evan “Buck” Buckley from 9-1-1. I’m ok with any type of storyline just fen reader plz.

Hope your doing well, have a nice day :)

Hi! I’m doing very well thank you!! This one isn’t as detailed as I’d want but I started writing at 3am so this is what we get. Hope you like it!!!

Evan Buckley x Reader

you loved buck you really did, and you hated lying to him but as youre trying to explain to your sister in law sometimes a little lie is necessary sometimes.

"i really think youre making a big deal out of this" you explained, tiptoing past the crew trying to go as unnoticed as possible. "oh and thats why you havent told Evan, because its not a big deal?" you could feel Maddies smug look even over the phone, taking a quick peek back to your husband whos laughing with the crew, you think you’ve slipped by them untill Chimny shoots you a unimpressed look through the tiny crack in the door. "did you tell Chimny?!" you quietly yelled through the phone as you shut the door before buck gets suspicious. "i had to how else was i supposed to explain staying at your appartment without him thinking im having an affair?'" you balked, you saw her point but still, girl code. "you need to tell him soon i feel like im looking after two kids now." Before you could rebuttle you heard buck call your name, scrambling a goodbye to Maddie before walking calmly to the main room, or attempting to at least. taking your normal spot next to your husband. "Y/N tell them that the foundation to a healthy marriage like ours is honesty and trust." he says throwing an arm over your shoulder pulling you tighter against him brushing a kiss against your temple. not noticing your nervous laugh, "And why am i telling them?"

''Uhh, he's marring my sister i kinda want to give him all the advice i can"

you hummed shooting a look at Chimny who is enjoying your struggle from the opposite couch. "Right yeah just be open." you drawled out, picking at your nails, luckily for you Even has no problem filling the silence as he continued to talk all about how close you to are and how great your marrige is. "im telling you theres nothing about her i don't know" Evan boast at the same time you squealed out "i've been lying to you!" Buck looks down at you a mixture of hurt and confusion flashing over his face. "About what?" "we have a kid." at that Buck moved to sit straighter and turn to face you.

"Y/N i think i'd know if we have a kid?'' you could hear Hen question Chimny as he chuckels at the scene unfolding before him. you shake your head pulling your phone from your pocket scrolling through the pictures untill you find one, turning the phone to Evan. who immediately takes it from you for a closer look. "show me right now!" and thats how you ended up riding in the engine to your shared apartment.

"Now before you get mad, i just had to bring him home and i didnt know what you would say!” You practically begged, slowly unlocking the door and stepping in, the crew following close behind, Chimny going straight to Maddie when she came to see who walked in, Thinking you and buck wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

“Phoenix!” You whistle until you heard his little pitter patter across the floor. Reaching down to pick up the bright orange kitten.

“Buck, this is Phoenix, I found him in an alley after a call one day and couldn’t just leave him.” You cuddled him to your chest walking over to Buck, whos hand comes up to pet the kittens head. A smile coming across his face. “Why didn’t you tell me I would’ve said yes? He asked taking the kitten for himself, something about your man holding a tiny kitty was to die for. Shrugging your shoulders, leaning your head on his arm, “you know you have no right looking this cute” you laugh as he talked to Phoenix. “So does this mean I can go back home?” Maddie asked from behind you both. “Yeah sis we got it from here” buck said looking at his tiny family but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

#evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #9 1 1 imagine #911 x reader #buck x reader #evan buckley fanfic

312 notes · View notes

aeempress · 3 years

Text

Apritello Express Evidences, part 1

Greetings, Apritello enthusiasts and attention! Here comes a loong post is written by totally nerd. You've been warned. Here we go.

The thing is that Apritello is a double-edged sword. The series shows us established friendship of these two, give us a lot of content with them. We can see development of relationship through interaction between the characters, their reaction about the situations they are put in. We can sense their synergy and bound through the show.

Donnie and April have incredible chemistry, and both options, brotp and otp seems fine to me.

But let me tell you why I ship them.

Apritello is the kind of pairings, which consists of small details, hints, that's hidden, but if you're sharp and attentive one, you will notice that. Apritello has a strong foundation: the best friends trope.

And from the very beginning, it works as planned.

When I start watching show, I could say that April and Donnie are best friends. It is worth noting that April is like an older sister to the other brothers, more of a sisterly figure than a friend, but with Donnie she behaves somewhat differently, namely, as best friend. Obviously, she sets him apart from his brothers, although girl tries to pay attention to all of them equally. And Donnie behaves as well.

Dee's battle shell designs for April needs as well as his. His shell transform into comfy spot for taking ride for April. Special and only for her. Because his bros are not supposed to use it (at least, he carries no one on his back), Donnie carries them by his techno-bó or his limbs.

This tiny detail shows his special treatment to her. April is a very, very special occasion to D. Don does care about her comfort, he accept the way she is. Donatello does not try to prevent her from participating in their affairs because he respects her decisions and is pleased that April can be shoulder to shoulder with him.

D is glad to be at her service.

Yeah, Dee's still playing cool, he has image to perform as tough and coolheaded guy. So Don doesn't show his intentions, interest and feeling to other people (he's tryin', but fails). Because his actions matter. They are always small, hidden, but meaningful.

April, in return, trusts Dee and depends on his tech, even knowing what his inventions are the opposite of success (usually).

Go on. Look at Donnie's facial expressions and body language when April is near.

Donnie seems more relaxed when she's around, happier. His emotional response is always different from his brothers ones.

Oh, and look, he wanted to be first to give her a high three.

They worry about each other. Look at Don. He does worry about her way more than his brothers. Yeah, they all want to protect her, but Donnie is more expressive.

Mayham has no particular sympathy for the brothers: he is afraid of Raph and behaves aggressively, he is indifferent to Leo and Mikey. Mayham immediately takes a liking to April. And then the details come back: he let Donnie touch his neck. The most vulnerable place for any living creation, for a second. Let him to study an important vial without any hesitation. Mayham depends on April trust for Donnie. When everything goes wrong for Don, the little doggie comes to his rescue, just as April would have done. Is the hint transparent enough?

We can see links with "A mystic library", wherе Donnie begins to look for solutions to save April's pet. Yes, this may seem like his next leap, "sit down, I'm smart, and now I'll solve all the problems, watch and learn," but Don says one phrase that opens up the veil of the second plan, what happens behind the scenes. "My illiteral colleagues and I was conducting a mustic research, with a life of the beloved pet, hanging in a bounce".

Strange wording, Donatello. Beloved pet? Not yours, as we can see. I can say, that everything in this sentence is true, but Donnie and Mayham has something more.

Continue. Next episode "Origami tsunami". Interactions are kept to a minimum, as April herself appears for a maximum of 5 minutes in the series itself. But devil is always in the details, dear friends.

When April was attacked and hung up, the only one who excitedly called out to her was Donny. Raph is furious that the thieves have escaped, Leo is frustrated that their plan has failed, and Mikey is worried about the salami.

Yeah, we didn't see his worries about her when she fell, because Donnie is on the mission and must be coolheaded turtle, and second, he's calm because now April life is safe and sound, out of the danger.

Dear passangers, Apritello Express arrives to the next station - episode "War and Pizza".

Bare facts:

1. April has Donnie's number on an emergency call.

2. "Anything for you"

3. Donnie is the reason why Alberto knows April's name.

No one calles April by her name (except for Donnie, while phone call, but Alberto wasn't nearby) it was "Captain O'Neil" by her chief, her badge seems blank. And yeah, you can say, that's just economy of budget, but I assure you: in the first episode we were shown the name of the delivery guy. The animators were not lazy bones and wrore "Stewart" on his badge. So if something isn't there, then it either shouldn't be there, or it really isn't, that's how this show works.

So, the reason explained in the episode. When Al has short circuit, parts of its new code flashed through its mind.

Info about April was in its memory, in its code. Alberto was a lame animatronic, and it seems somewhat outdated. I do really doubt about Alberto is being something smartass machine with complicated AI like Freddy's Pizza's ones. Quite questionable. Donatello fix Al's brain and wrote code, synchronize with his remote control. He put information about Cap O'Neil into animatronic's head. All this pictures are kind of massage: "You was created for birthday celebrations. You are machine, and there concepts of "life" and "birth". Do great party for this birthday kid and April won't be like this". Or, something like that.

So Alberto did - do a memorable party. And he do what his creator programmed him to do, but in his way.

4. In other words, Alberto was a tool to impress April. Don flaunts himself in front of her, stating how he did the upgrade while doing the upgrade, even though April is fully aware of his tech wizard. And his abilities supposed to help Cap O'Neil to finish the birthday party, so she will stay at her job, not fired. All thanks to Donnie and his upgrade Alberto. (Or not)

By the way, Donnie was the last to leave April in ruined "Alberto's". And it's not an isolated case, it is a pattern.

5. They understand each other without words.

First, Donny came at her at the speed of light. Second, she hadn't even finished speaking before Dee was taking Al apart. Third, their chaotic, well-coordinated work? Donnie was a distraction (although he wanted to just take a break from the battle or let Alberto's guard down, while April just knocked him out). Donnie and April are great team, and sometimes the DonniexApril team is much more precise, coordinated, and interdependent than the DonniexBrothers one.

D&A feel each other and anticipate each other's actions, their skills complement each other, creating an incredible synergy of their interaction. They act as a whole, while it's not always possible with his brothers, even though they're family and know each other the way more Donnie know April. And Dee hasn't trained with cap O'Neil.

Donatello didn't show his crush for April. No puppy, loving eyes, no lovey-dovey speeches, no planning schemes (at least, the audience don't see one) . He just want her attention, but stays cool and hidden. D is already her BFF, but still.

The same thing is claimed in 5B episode - Mascot Melee. Donnie has no problems with interaction with idol of his childhood - Atomic Lass. She'd put Leo in a stupor, but Donnie? He playfully challenges her to a dance duel. Yes, he adores this character, who may have become his measure of the attractiveness of others to Donatello, determined his type. But still, he's playing all cool and confident guy, he's really smooth with girls, so you will never see a puppy loving eyes from him. Only two things can betray him at this point: his voice and his body language. Remember, how's soft his voice became for Atomic Lass? Now I want you to remember the scene before, in turtle tank, when April sent guys a meme.

D is the first to respond to the message, despite the fact that Mikey is sitting closest to the screen. And the responding is a little too emotional for this situation, don't you think?

And this face of his. And he comments it. He likes her sense of humour.

The only difference between April and Atomic Lass is that the first one is a real girl who is a friend of their family, practically a member of it; and the other one is just a fictional character. It is easier to say about love for a fictional character, because it brings less problems for a teenager, especially when he is living with three brothers and a father who likes to tease as well. Donatello needs to be careful and outline the area of emotions he could show, so that he does not get hurt.

Now, dear passangers, we are returning to the previous episode, shall we?

Donnie presents to his brothers his precious Turtle tank, but she's gone, and it's really necessary to find out, who has taken her. And the first person to suspect is April.

Something is odd, don't you think? Yeah, Raphael has taken tyre for their "Midnight special", Leo claimed that Donnie's stuff is common, but they are D's beothers. It's natural for family to borrow(stole) stuff of each other. But this trend was not observed in April. She would never steal anything from Donnie, much less steal anything from him.

Actually, there is a good, logical and solid explanation here. April was number 1 in Donatello' suspect list, because he simply told her about Turtle tank. His brothers didn't know he were working at Moon buggy, except Mikey (Orange helps Dee get the vehicle from Repomantis), but they didn't know what exactly Donnie was working for. They didn't know he build the Turtle tank, he kept it a secret, to surprise his brothers. But April knew.

- Alright you! Where's our turtle tank?

- Hi, DONNIE. You have 9 seconds to say, why are you just broke my door.

- Someone's stole Donnie's turtle tank.

- Haha-ow, I see. As your best friend, you naturally suspect me.

- She gets it!

- Oh-ho, don't give me that! You're the only one could taken it!

The only one, because she knew about it.

As Splints said in this episode - "April is not a snitch"

Donatello does trust April and share with her both, sorrows and joys. But we are not shown this directly. We do not see the action itself, we do not see their calls and conversations on the phone late at night, we only see the consequence. We have no choice and take it as a given.

And the way she cooled him down? Fast, efficient, and Donnie seems to used to it. Moreover, she slapped everyone, but still, she throw Don out of window the last. However, why such a large time delay between him, being slapped and him, was throwing out of the window?

And my favourite scene. It was obvious that Donnie had taken the hardest hit (judging by his scream and the way he was putting his knuckles back in place). Don then claims that their inner circle is secure, Mikey tries to make amends for everyone, and April agrees, blowing them a kiss and closing the window. Cute and mean, isn't it? (You're cute! but mean! why do I always go for your type?! - ep. War and Pizza)

Nota bene: Donnie wouldn't apologize to April. Tough, not caring badass boy image, remember? Even to best friends. It's hard to him to express his feelings by using words, he cannot do it in proper way. But he has Mikey, who is so alike inner him. Michelangelo apologizes not only for himself, but for D mostly, because D starts suspected April.

Let's continue: the episode 8B: Hypno Part Deux

• Donnie put "Donnie's blocker" at April's phone to protect her.

It's common thing that your friend install some programs or apps on your device. But you will always ask your friend to do such a favour, and you will always know about what, when and where were installed on your phone.

And April didn't know Donnie had done something with her phone. It was a real surprise for her, to see blocker with "Donnie says no-no-no".

And you know, the interface of his app. The way he tell this current phrase. Donnie could put a huge banner "THE APP YOU WANT DOWNLOAD TO IS A REAL PIECE OF GARBAGE", as usual antiviruses do. But no, voice interface. It makes the app more personal and thoughtful. Because when Don made gifts for his brother, the program was voiced by a computer-generated female voice. Yes, the tank's interface is voiced by Donatello himself, but his voice sounds more like Google than the real Don. And, we talking about HIS BABEY, for a second. Bit still, the point remains.

• Also, Dale.

Dale is nerdy boy in purple, wow, how convenient for making a parallel with certain purple turtle.

But thing is, April doesn't like Dale. He's clingy, remora guy, who has a little obsession with April, even he's not harmful, still, such behaviour freaks girls (and not them only) out. Her classmate is usually tell her what April O'Neil is "his favourite person" and he loves her. There is little that is attractive about this behavior.

So, there is nothing new and unpredictable here that Dale was rejected. Because April didn't, doesn't and won't like him because of his lame personality and strange behaviour. Our girl in yellow do right thing: she clearly sets personal boundaries and does not allow any dubious personalities to invade them. So that's the reason she refuses to go on a date with him at the end. He's weird, obsessed, and she doesn't like him.

Donatello, as far as I concerned from different versions of TMNT, was always a little obsessive with some things. And, you know, putting a blocker inside your best friend's phone seems a little weird, because it's, in simple words, violation of privacy and personal space. And there are people who may regard this as stalking or sorta.

Yeah, for the most part, he gets away with it, not only because April's focus is in a different area, but also because their bond is stronger than April's with anyone else at school.

She has known him for years. Donnie is her best friend. I can't say that it's fine to her when Dee violates her personal space - her phone, but April can accept Donatello's personality in general.

And he does really have good intentions. Donnie installed this blocker, developed by himself only for one reason: to protect personal space April from fishy apps from nowhere, from being hacked and etc. Don knew her too well, how much she depends on stupid apps that will distract her. He also knew well, that he can't be with her 24/7 to fix problems with April's phone, so Dee put a part of himself to prevent any harm in the future.

And again, "Donnie's gifts"'s vibes. Donatello genuinely cared about April, because he wrote, coded, developed, designed, and dubbed it, turned on the database, and installed it all on April's phone. 'cause, you know, writing programs in general is a bit of a hassle, but writing an antivirus is much more difficult, because viruses are changing, and questionable applications are finding ways to bypass. Do you feel how much effort Dee put in for her?

But Donatello didn't mean to fix April, as he tried to do with his brothers. Purple turtle accepts this girl the way she is, and tries his best to play smoothly with April, by adjusting, not being passive aggressive jerk. It's his outstanding way to show his caring nature, soft side.

Remember, small but meaningful actions.

Maybe, Donnie also can foresee that April may be forced to download some suspicious program, but still, it work: he managed to prevent April being hypnotized, even if couldn't be physically with April at the this moment - Dee was working for Repo Mantis, building dog's paradise for Todd. That's why, by the way, Leo and Raph were dragged into this whole situation. Mayham would teleported literally anyone to help his hostess. Donnie just wasn't at the Lair at the moment.

And on this note, we'll take a break for now. Stay tuned, expect parsing of the series, there's a lot to discuss.

Part 2

Part 3

#rottmnt #rise of tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt donatello #hamato donatello #april o'neil #rise april #rottmnt april #aprilxdonnie #rottmnt apritello #apritello #lonnnnnnnng post #sorry not sorry #zero regrets #apritello express

145 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years

Text

Bun in the Oven

I saw this video and my brain immediately went to the Lions. Thanks for all the support for my social media fics! You guys are the best :)

Credit for Sweater Weather and its characters goes to @lumosinlove!

“Hey everybody, I’m James Potter and you’re on Lion Pride!” James shot finger guns at the camera and next to him, Talker pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You’re such a suburban dad,” he sighed. “I’m Thomas Walker and today we’ll be doing…Marlene, what are we doing?”

“You’re doing baby product reviews!” Marlene called from off-screen. “How about we finish introductions first.”

Sirius waved. “I’m Sirius Black.”

“What experience do you guys have with kids?” Marlene asked.

James lit up and the others groaned. “I have a son, Harry! He’s just over two years old now and he took his first steps last week.”

“I have two younger sisters!” Talker grinned. “Shoutout to Haley and Clarisse.”

“And I have a dog,” Sirius said. “She’s about two as well and she acts like a human child. Does that count?”

“How do you feel about babies?”

“Love them,” Talker said immediately. “They’re soft, cuddly…”

“And they have those cute little laughs,” James cooed. “I love it when they fall asleep on you and you can just, like, hold them in one arm since they’re so small.”

“I get nervous around babies,” Sirius admitted, blushing slightly. “I like them, though!”

James rolled his eyes. “It took you two full months before you would hold Harry and you’re his godfather. None of you guys have enough qualifications to review baby products, by the way.”

“Yeah, why are we here for that if only one of us has actually had a child?” Talker laughed. “It seems a little…” His eyes widened as he spotted something behind the camera. “Dude, it that a baby?”

“What?” All three men straightened up and tried to follow his line of sight; in an instant, their faces softened.

A tall woman appeared in frame and handed a baby to Talker. “I get to hold her?” he asked in a small voice. “Hi, cutie, what’s your name?”

“Her name is Christine,” the mother said.

“Christine.” Talker booped her on the nose and she squealed. “Oh, you are too sweet.”

“Where are all these children coming from?” James sniffled as a tiny baby was placed in his arms.

“Pots, are you…crying?” Sirius asked.

“Maybe.” James swiped under his glasses and the baby reached up toward his face. “Harry grew really fast and I kinda forgot how tiny he was? But now it’s all coming back. Aw, do you want my glasses, kiddo?”

The baby patted his cheek and James tickled its chin lightly. None of them saw the third parent coming up behind the couches until Sirius noticed her standing next to him. “Oh, no, really, it’s okay,” he said, going a little pale.

“This is Marie.” The baby stretched her arms out toward Sirius and giggled. His resolve visibly crumbled and he carefully took her into his arms—his splayed hand was as big as her head.

“Bonjour, Marie,” he murmured, holding her like she would break at any moment. She babbled back at him and a delighted smile overtook his face. “Tu es très belle. How old is she?”

“Just over a year.”

“Not so bad, eh, Pads?” James asked gently, bumping him lightly with his elbow.

Sirius shot him a stricken look and cradled her closer. “Don’t bump me, she’s fragile!”

Marie took advantage of her new position to grab a handful of his hair and yank. Sirius winced, but she shrieked with delight. “Black!”

“Did she just—” Sirius looked at the mother, whose eyes were wide. “She talked, right?”

“That was the first time she’s said anything I could understand.”

“See, Cap, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Talker teased as Christine held tight to his index finger. “What is this video actually about, anyway?”

“This is pretty much it,” Marlene said. “I hate to be the bad guy, but they do have to go home soon since it’s almost naptime.”

“Five more minutes?” Talker begged. James and Sirius gave her pleading looks as well and she sighed.

“Moms, is that okay?”

“All good over here,” Christine’s mother said with a light laugh. “My arms get a break.”

The camera cut for a moment, and when it returned the babies were nowhere in sight. James was still wiping his eyes with a tissue. “Alright, guys, any final thoughts?” Marlene asked.

“Hattie is going to get so many cuddles when I get home,” Sirius said, running a hand through his hair.

Talker shook his head, still looking a little dazed. “I want so many children.”

“Can I call my wife?” James was already pulling his phone out of his pocket. Marlene nodded behind the camera and he dialed a number quickly, then put it on speakerphone. “Lils?”

“Hey, lover, what’s up?”

“Can we have another kid?”

Lily laughed on the other end of the line. “What happened?”

“They gave us babies to hold. Mine fell asleep on me and tried to grab my glasses.”

“Sure, hon, we can have another kid.”

His mouth twitched up in a devious smile and he glanced at Sirius. “They gave Cap a baby, too.”

“To keep?”

“No!” Sirius yelped, sending Lily into another fit of laughter.

“Give me all the details when you get home, okay?” she said.

“Will do. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“There aren’t any more surprises, right?” Talker asked, squinting to see behind the camera. “If you bring out toddlers next I’m definitely going to follow Pots’ example.”

“No, no more surprises,” Marlene assured him. “That’s it for today. Cap, do you want to close us out?”

“Yeah, sure. Uh, thanks for tuning in! Give your babies extra love today from all of us here at Lion Pride.”

#sirius black #james potter #thomas walker #talker #jily #marlene mckinnon #lions #social media #lumosinlove #sweater weather #babies #my fic #fanfic

337 notes · View notes

bump1nthen1ght · 4 years

Text

Waltz of the Vampire (Vampire x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Fat!Reader/Fem!Vampire

Genre: Fantasy (Vaguely Historical/Renaissance)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3469 words

Summary: You forcibly attend the ball of the rich family that has just moved to town, unexpectedly finding comfort with one of their daughters.

Request: Hey!! I love your writing a lot! Would you consider an elf or a vampire whatever suits your fancy with a fat fem!reader. I try hard not to hate my body but it can be really hard sometimes and I know a lot of people go through it not just plus size folks but... idk it’s my weakness and a huge comfort. Anyway I hope you have a awesome day!!!

A/N: I really loved writing this request, and after I finish Thicker than Water, I might make a part two.

Serena has been to a lot of parties. Too many, in her opinion, even over her 326-year span of life. Her matriarch, “Mother” as she is called by her and the coven, believes there is no such thing.

Every move they make is celebrated by a grand ball, invitations sent out to every available person. Mother claims it’s the best way for them to fit in, to hide in the crowd rather than the shadows.

Serena understands this, she’s seen it work wonder for their reputation time and time again, but she still does not like them.

Tonight is especially dreadful, a bad hunt the day before and a quick spat with her “brother” enough to sour the whole get together. Serena spends most of the night eluding suitors and dance partners, embracing a mysterious persona so she can enjoy some alone-time.

As she looks around at the dance floor, Serena concludes that she is not a fan of the new fashion statements of this era. A bit too strict, too formal, with precise lacings and starchy hoop skirts. It makes the dance floor too stuffy in her opinion, no room to twirl your fabric or move your limbs.

She sips on her special red wine, eye’s lazily perusing the hall for her siblings, hoping to gain some company, when she spots you. Selena is brought to a pause, mid-drink, as your embroidered skirt glimmers, catching the light as you twirl it across the room. Her eyes widen, determination peaked when she notices you don’t have a partner.

How beautiful.

----------

Oooh, I love this song.

You hum, unconsciously bouncing from side to side as your favorite piano piece begins to play. It’s a piece you have on your list to learn in the future, bubbly and cheerful with a bumpy melody and the option for a fun violin accompaniment.

The energy of the music quickly translates to the dance floor, where couple’s begin to giggle and improvise amidst the strict waltz and counted-steps. It’s a shame that it’s such a good piece because for the first time of the night, you really wish someone would ask you to dance.

When the news the MacArthur’s were throwing a huge welcoming ball had reached your household, your mother quickly began throwing together preparations for you to attend. You had sighed, set your feet in a preemptive ice bath, and ready for another boring night.

As a former socialite herself, from girlhood you were forced to attend party after party. While it had done as intended and transformed your sister into a perfect lady, it had the opposite effect on you. The stiffness of the hoop skirts, the suits, and all the damn people always stuffed up your throat and flushed your face. With your sister as the shining star, it was easy for you to slip into the shadows, and avoid the preening of your mother’s etiquette lessons.

Now, as a growing woman with more and more free-time, you used all of your abilities to avoid huge social gatherings. You found your place amongst small gatherings with local friends, sneaking wine from the cellar and telling stories in the freezing cold around a fire

But as the music increases it’s tempo, with flourishing skirts and plenty of laughter, you can’t help but lose yourself in the joviality of the gathering. The fancy dresses, the even fancier alcohol, and the decadent ballroom had you wondering if you had been missing out a bit.

If only Margaret and Min-Young were here, now that would be a party.

You giggle into your champagne, heels still tapping against the hardwood and hand slightly tossing your skirt back and forth. You easily fall back into your reclusive corner to avoid embarrassing eyes who may glance upon your solitude. But a tiny yelp escapes you when your heel accidentally digs into a foot. You whip around, faced already flushed red with embarrassment.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t look where...I was…”

Behind you, dressed in a dark purple satin gown, is Serena Macarthur herself. She stands a solid two heads above you, hair done up in an immaculate up do and two shimmering ruby earrings dangling from her ears. Her face is serene, lips curled up in a bit of a smirk. You quickly jerk away and give a half-decent curtsy, noticing her beautiful black dancing shoes which you just stomped on. “I apologize, Miss Macarthur, I can’t believe I acted so foolishly. I didn’t realize-”

“Oh, there is no need to worry darling. I’m alright, no harm done.” She says, her voice low and musical, almost like a thrumming bass line. Her gloved hand is placed on your shoulder, the other slides up your neck and tilts up your chin to meet her eye line.

My god, she is stunning.

Her eyes are a color you’ve never seen before, not dissimilar to the sharp gemstones in her earrings. Serena’s makeup, simple yet sharp, does everything to accentuate the cardinal-red of her irises. You can feel the simmering blush heating up your skin as she continues to stare. “I was actually coming this way to speak to you, flower. It’s my fault really, for sneaking up on you.”

You shake your hands, nearly spilling over the champagne in your glass. “Oh no, it’s no problem. Like you said, no harm done”. You force a giggle, hastily taking a sip of your champagne. “May I ask what you wished to speak of?”

Serena smiles, a smirk which is just as sharp as the rest of her, though her eyes betray no slyness or ill-will. “I was going to enquire about your dress. I noticed it from across the room and was stunned by how enchanting it is.”

“Oh! Well, thank you very much.” You blush, unconsciously rubbing your finger over the embroidered flowers on the skirt. “I actually-”

“Whoops!”

In less than a second, you find yourself right next to Serena, as a drunk dancer trips and spills his drink all over the floor. You blink, brain not even fully processing what just happened, as you notice Serena’s arm on your elbow and the red wine splattered where you stood just moments ago.

Did she move me? But when-how did she-

“Sorry! Sorry about that.” The man slurs, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. His partner, a distressed young woman, grabs his elbow and forces him to stand straight. “Guess I’ve had too much.” His embarrassed partner chokes out a laugh as he continues to sway.

“Yes, it seems you have. Make sure to fix that, soon.”

Serena’s tone is barely above talking volume, but holds a command like a powerful shout, Both of the dancers jerk with surprise, furiously bowing as the female drags the man out of the hall.

Serena sighs, rubbing her forehead with exasperation. She turns toward you, smiles back on her face.

“Would you like to take this to the garden? Seems the party is getting a bit too rowdy for good conversation.”

You nod, still a bit befuddled by Serena’s quick mood change and even quicker reflexes. But you link elbows when she holds hers up in invitation nonetheless, following her outside.

---------

The Macarthur estate is beautiful, as expected, and the garden fits that image to a T. Even in the moonlight you can see the finely cultivated roses bushes which decorate it, along with the gleaming marble fountain and sitting space under an ornately decorated gazebo. The two of your heels click along the paved path as you walk towards the center, your half-empty drink still in hand.

“You were sadly interrupted, but you were mentioning something about the dress?”

You nod, taking another long sip of your champagne, hoping a little alcohol may temper your thoughts.

“Yes, I was just going to say that I made it myself.” Serena’s eyes grow wide, eyes darting up and down your attire, and you feel yourself fluster. “It’s a tradition in my family, you see. My great-great-grandmother was very diligent when it came to teaching her kids how to sew, even the boys, and it became such an insisted upon skill that all her children ended up making their own evening clothing for special occasions. It ended up filtering down that every child makes one special outfit themselves, for what occasion it doesn’t particularly matter, but something thatt is uniquely you.” You pull up the end of your skirt, pointing out the flower pattern. “I’ve always had a fondness for gardening, so I tried to incorporate that into my dress. Plus,” You smooth out your skirt, “Most party dresses I’ve found are a bit too restrictive for my tastes, I wanted something I could really get into some fun with, y’know?” You force a giggle, immediately wondering if that comment was a bit too salacious for high-society talk. Serena simply smirks, letting out a low chuckle of her own.

“I wholeheartedly agree. May I take a closer look?” She gestures to your skirt and you hastily nod. The two of you take a seat by the fountain, Serena’s glove accidentally brushing against your calf as she picks up your skirt. You try and control your shiver from the simple contact. She hums admirably as she runs along your work. “Such incredibly done Sunflowers, the detail you put in is astounding. And these are forget-me-nots, correct?”

“Oh yes, those are my favorite kind.” Serena’s hands continue to run along the linework, following the bumps and dips of each flower petal. “As you can see I had trouble with the lavender, what with the petals being so small.” Serena shakes her head, a fond smile on her face. She looks up at you, forcing you to hastily act as if you weren’t admiring her face.

“The work you put in makes them twice as beautiful, mistakes be damned.” You blush even harder, throwing your hand and taking a final sip of your champagne.

“Thank you very much, but I have a long way to go.”

Serena’s hand hasn’t left your skirt, now resting on her lap as she continues to look at you. You swallow the last droplets of champagne down your throat, trying to fill the silence.

“The band is incredible, did you hire them locally?” You stutter, setting down your glass. Serena continues to fiddle with your skirt.

“Some of them, yes, but the violinist is actually my older sister, Marigold.”

“Wow! Make sure to give her my compliments, she’s very talented.” Serena nods, before her eyes dart down your toes. As the music echoes out of the hall and into the garden, you had unconsciously begun to tap your toes to the beat. When she glances at you, she can see your head slightly bobbing, a content look painting your face. A small smile forces one on to hers.

How cute. She internally sighs, noting how soft the skin of your cheek looks, the nice curve of your jaw, and your adorable noise. The pulsing blood which would run down your throat, the crimson looking devine against your exposed collarbone and dripping below your breast line.

She stands up abruptly, forcing those evocative thoughts out of her mind. You were quite cute and good company, someone Serena would like to get to know. Sometimes the crossed wires of her brain confused attraction for bloodlust, mistaking the butterflies for hunger pains.. She is almost embarrassed; It was one of the common hurdles new vampires had to overcome, a bridge she thought she crossed years ago

You startle, looking up at her with innocent doe eyes. Serena holds out her hand, ignoring how she can hear your steady pulse, unintentionally matching the beat of the music.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” She almost whispers, bowing slightly.

Your face flushes, nodding without a word, and slipping your bare hand into her glove.

Serena boldly grabs your hip and presses you against her, quickly taking the lead. Your brain fervently recalls all of your formal dancing lessons, pressing your head into her chest as she takes you along.

In her arms, following her perfected steps, that slithering self-consciousness sneaks back into your brain. Your logic tries to reason with it;

You wanted to dance, but now that this beautiful woman has gladly offered her hand, you want to stop?

But your insecurities are louder, screaming about every trip and every spare touch. This close, you can feel her firm musculature through the dress, spotting the hint of her bicep as she leads you. With her dainty and elegant hand on your side, you feel twice aware of your size underneath, every imperfection concealed by your dress.

You had fallen in love with this dress when making it, but had always been hesitant to wear it. You feared that once you put it on, that beautiful picture in your mind would shatter, leaving you forlorned of what could never be. Not with you wearing it, you had thought, avoiding your own mirror as you left.

“Something on your mind, flower?”

Serena whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your back jerks and contorts back into position, almost stepping your foot on hers. You shake your head furiously.

“Oh no! I-I just-” You stumble, trying to find an easy excuse, but are stopped when you take a look at her face.

She’s resplendent, even up close, not a hint of makeup to be seen. But across her cheeks, slightly faded from what looks like years away from the sun, are-

“My, you have such wonderful freckles.” You murmur, without a second thought.

Unbeknownst to you, if Serena could blush, she would. But the scrunched up look of embarrassment is telling, hinting that maybe this beautiful heiress has her own things she hides away.

“W-well, thank you.” She hastily utters, eyes averting from yours. It’s uncharacteristically shy and you can’t control the giggle that escapes you.

To give her some reprieve, you take your eyes off her face and trail them around the garden. They catch on the fountain, where the contrasting colors of your dresses stand out amidst the black. In the reflection, the two of you could not look more different. Serena stands a head above you, slim-fitted dark purple dress pulled across her curves, while your bright green dress cinches at the waist, flowing out like the flower's detailed skirt. It blows and beckons with every movement, brushing occasionally against your form and showing off the contours of your body.

Damn, you think, we look hot.

Just as fickle as it’s counterpoint, confidence quickly overtakes your mind, blocking out the noise of your doubt. You hold tight to your beautiful partner, in the beautiful dress that you made, and allow the happiness of this moment to exist uninterrupted, however short it may be.

The music increases its pace, the smooth line of a saxophone bringing up the energy. With a new burst of energy, you allow yourself to improvise amidst the strict waltz. You lift your weight off your heels and try to glide from step to step, like the fast-paced tango dancers your mother once took you to see. Serena matches your enthusiasm, gripping your waist, even lifting you a few inches off the ground when a particular chord strikes. Her fingers slightly tickle your ribs, an ecstatic giggle escaping you and you falter a misstep. Your mind almost stops, embarrassed by your stumble and that insecurity sneaking back in, but Serena follows your new tempo with grace, urging you along with improvisation.

Your bodies follow the music with abandon, ordered steps devolving into impassioned stamps and twists, Serena twirling you around as the violin and piano sing from afar. Your heart and mind are running on adrenaline. It’s like when you were little, letting out your energy in any way possible. Serena’s laughter is magical and for once you don’t detest your awkward snorts and chuckles.

As the music slows, the two of you near-tumble back into the fountain, taking a seat with heaving chests.

“Whew, I haven’t danced like that in a while!” You say, brushing a stray hair back behind your ear. Serena nods, patting her stomach as she continues to laugh.

“Me as well. I forgot how fun it could be, when you’re not counting your steps.”

“Oh good, you do that too. I always wondered how no one got dreadfully bored just saying 1-2-3 over and over.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath and patting her thigh. Your other hand drifts down to the fountain water, letting your fingertips brush across the top and inadvertently catching your reflection once more.

It’s not the most flattering angle, your shoulders slump and the water slightly distorted, and those intruding thoughts try to slip in once more.

Oh shut up, let us have this.

Your logic sighs, batting it away without another second thought.

As the two of you sit, your energy eventually begins to drift back down, your muscles slightly tired from that short burst of impact. You sneak a glance at Serena.

While her outfit is still immaculate, her updo shows the smallest signs of dishelevement, curly black hairs falling down above her ears. In a way, she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Me and some friends are actually getting together next week. The shepherd's daughter, Violet, is getting married and they are throwing a little shindig at the barn to celebrate. Do you want to come?”

Serena looks up at you, slightly surprised, face furrowed with that hidden bashfulness. But she nods nonetheless, shooting you a bright smile.

Still high off your dance, you just barely miss her large fangs, which glimmer under the moonlight.

You smile back, only startled when the large bell tower from the center of town chimes. Your head looks towards it’s large face and back towards the moon position. You’d guess it was midnight. Seems the two of you had lost track of time while dancing.

“Well, I should probably be going.” You say, standing up and brushing off your skirt. “I do have some gardening to attend to in the morning, going to need a solid amount of sleep. But,” You say, eyes demure and locked on your toes as Serena stands up, “I had a lot of fun tonight. More than usual, I would say.” You giggle, twirling a strand of your hair. Serena hmms in agreement.

“Me as well, flower. Your company has been the highlight of my night.”

In a bold move, Serena grabs your hand and lays a kiss on the back of it. Her eyes radiate that power and certainty from before, crimson irises shining in the night. Your blush crawls its way back up your neck.

“I-I can say the same.”

The two of you stay in that position for a moment, Serena pulling away her lips but keeping a lingering hold on your hand. Your heart thrums in your chest, while hers is deathly silent. Neither of you wants to be the first to pull away.

“I-uhm.” You stumble, hand still locked in place.

Now’s as good a time as any. You suppose.

In a quick movement, your hand loosens from Serena’s grasp and you give a quick peck on her cheek. In another, you have pulled away, sprinting towards your carriage.

“I-I’ll see you Saturday!” You shout, nearly tripping over a rose bush.

Left behind in the garden stands Serena, cold hand pressed against the burning skin of her cheek. Your kiss shot through her body like a lightning strike, almost jolting her frozen-heart alight.

That night, Serena goes for a hunt. She barely takes the time to change out of her formal clothes, nearly tearing the delicate lacework of her dress. Her claws catch on her gloves and almost rip apart, her heels scuffing the floor as she kicks them off and to the side. Her undead body is thrumming with life, untapped energy that longs to get out.

Her thoughts run a mile a minute, forcibly distracted by the Grizzly bear she currently has in a choke hold. It puts up a good fight, but Serena is running off of pure bloodlust.

At least, she thinks it’s bloodlust. A deeper part of her knows it's something else; The sparking fire of something new and a little bit frightening.

The last time she was personally invited to a ball, an event, a ceremony was less than a couple months ago. When you hold a position such as hers, look like her, they are common occurrences.

But to a party? Not a politically motivated meetup, but a genuine, let your hair down, party? Well, she hadn’t been to one since she was a youngling of 150.

And for the first time in a while, she is excited.

#reader insert #monster romance #female reader #monster x reader #vampire x reader #my writing #vampire

211 notes · View notes

sanababes · 4 years

Text

The more, the merrier

Pairings: fem!reader x poly!SaYeon (Minatozaki Sana/Cho Miyeon)

Warnings: smut (hair pulling, daddy kink, thigh riding, bondage, a bit of overstimulation???)

-----------

The sun sets over the horizon of Seoul's sky as you stare mindlessly outside the wide windows of your classroom. The faint sound of your teacher discussing something about the origin of a certain Korean literature is barely audible. You sighed gently before shifting your gaze back to your desk, it was all good and your day went well until Miyeon decided to extend her class for an extra hour.

You looked towards the older woman in front as she passionately covered the topic with its major details. The bright gleam coming from the recessed light on the ceiling hits her smooth and porcelain skin. Miyeon's eyes are sharp but vibrant which you liked a lot as she continued with the lesson, but seeing her laid beneath you while her body trembled in pleasure was more of your taste.

"Miss L/n, are you still with us?"

You flinched at the sudden call of your name. Your classmates started to holler around in a teasing manner, much to your dismay.

"Yes, ma'am…" you muttered, embarrassed that Miyeon caught you gaping at her shamelessly.

The latter gives you an innocent smile before getting the attention of the other students back to her discussion once again.

'Tsk, the nerve of this woman.'

---

Miyeon's class has finally ended and you immediately took a breather while dashing out of the lecture room. You were too preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn't notice your phone vibrate, indicating someone is calling you. You finally grabbed it after a whole minute and answered the call which seemed to be a little urgent.

"Hey, Y/n/n. Are you done with your classes?"

A distinct voice speaks up from the other line. You unconsciously let out a silent laugh before replying to the latter, "Sana unnie? You called, and yeah, I just finished them. What's up?"

"Hmm, nothing much. I'm done with my schedule for the week so…" you hummed, waiting for her to continue.

"Would you like to come over?"

Your eyebrow raised in interest, but you already predicted what the woman was up to. Nevertheless, you still agreed.

"Uh yeah, sure. I'll be there in a few." Sana lets out a few giggles before hanging up with her usual farewell.

You chuckled at her cute demeanor, at the same time, Miyeon had a glimpse of you walking towards the school's exit. She had a mischievous smile written on her lips as her legs strutted swiftly to catch up on you. The students around began to murmur endlessly while a certain brunette triumphantly clings to your arm. Your eyebrows furrowed and almost pushed whoever the person is when a playful whisper sends goosebumps down your spine.

"Hi baby," you promptly tensed up but the way Miyeon's hand rubs gentle circles on your back helped to calm you down.

"Can't you keep your hands to yourself? They'll probably start some nonsense rumors again." you groaned out. She had the nerve to laugh in the spur of the moment before purposely making her voice a lot louder, "Aigoo~ My dear, sister. You shouldn't act like that when unnie is babying you."

You swear to your life that the cringe you've felt after she said that was uncomparable. All you wanted to do was to dig a hole in the ground and yeet yourself in it. Your face contorted in a grimace of pain. A kind of pain that you'll never have the ability to look into any of these students nearby straight into their eyes.

"Fuck…" you dropped your head down, not wanting to see any of their reactions.

Meanwhile, Miyeon is having a fun time from teasing you. She loved how you would react and began to feel the need of doing it quite often. But, there was a specific reason. Miyeon loved getting you riled up. The way you get rougher and the inflamed gaze on your eyes just hits the right spot in her.

"Let go," you said through gritted teeth. The latter had yet to realize that you've already walked a block away from the school premises.

"What? But why? My car is just parked a few streets away." she mutters. You rolled your eyes and tried to loosen her grip on you, "I told you, let go."

"I won't, but maybe, until you give me a kiss."

You let out a harsh scoff before looking at her, her eyes reflecting an enchanting aura you knew very well, "You've got to be kidding me… I think that sister and shit roleplay had gotten inside your head now."

She chuckled slyly before brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, "Then why are you getting bothered so much? I thought it was just some 'nonsense' as what you call it. And it was a made-up rumor so they wouldn't be skeptical of our relationship, I'm sure you're aware of that since none of them are true. Am I right?"

You tried to keep your expression neutral as possible, knowing that Miyeon could make something a big deal so quickly. But she was indeed correct, all of the people in school believed your wonderful-sister relationship. You can't even recall how and when it happened, nevertheless, you were the type who wouldn't care too much so you just shrugged it off and played along.

When it comes to your bond with the brunette, you don't even know what kind of relationship it is. The two of you just started fucking each other at some point within the past few years and kind of became an affinity you couldn't let go easily.

"Fine," you looked around your surroundings, feeling a bit wary that someone might see the two of you. It would surely cause a lot of trouble if they saw you. And you weren't worried for yourself, you're mostly concerned at what it might result in Miyeon's future in teaching and you never once thought of disrupting her long time dream carelessly.

You guided her into a hidden alley nearby and she already brought your lips together before you did. You unconsciously pinned her against the wall, one of your hands cradled the back of Miyeon's head so she wouldn't feel too uncomfortable. Her tongue runs swiftly against your lip as she takes it between her teeth simultaneously. You groaned eagerly before hiking the pencil skirt she was wearing higher, caressing the soft flesh near Miyeon's throbbing heat. A hushed whimper came out from her as you took it as an initiative to pull away, but not completely, just letting your lips hover against hers.

"Getting a little greedy, aren't you, Y/n/n." she cooed.

You just smirked and fixed her skirt back to its knee-length position, "I'll accompany you to your car and then I'll get going."

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Miyeon asked while running her hands through her hair.

"No need," the two of you proceeded to walk to the next street until you spotted Miyeon's car parked in front of a bakery.

Your phone dinged and you immediately fished it out of your pocket, Sana's name was flashed on the screen and her text read, "What's taking you so long?"

"Who's tha-"

Miyeon scoffs as soon as she had a glimpse of the name shown on your phone. "Excuse me?! So now you prefer going over to that girl's house instead of mine, huh?"

You chuckled at her statement before dismissing it quickly, "I'm just going to hang out with her for an hour or two."

The latter glares at you, suspicious and having an idea of your possible motives.

"Bring me with you."

"What? But I-"

"No buts, bring me with you or I'll drive you back home."

You huffed frustratingly before giving in to Miyeon's request, "Fine, don't cause any ruckus when we get there."

---

The tension in the air was getting too much suffocating for you, Miyeon and Sana were literally cursing each other through their own eyes as they seated with distance on the bed of Sana's tiny apartment. You couldn't help but laugh silently at their looks, and if looks do kill, they're both probably dead right now.

You stood up from your seat on the couch nearby the girls' place and grabbed a glass of water. Your throat just dried up from the silence resonating throughout the small unit, also, your boredom was getting the best of you. Glancing at your phone, 30 minutes have passed by just like that and Miyeon and Sana are still in a silent battle with each other. Deciding that their childishness is simply just some funny business, you jogged towards the bed then jumped on top of the soft mattress. Sana just uttered a confused 'Eh?' while Miyeon just stared at you, puzzled at your sudden change of demeanor.

"Are you guys done at mentally killing each other?"

You alternate your gaze between the two of them as they sheepishly avoid any eye contact.

That was until Sana spoke up, clearly sulking as she went through her words, "Why did you bring this bitch here? I said we would spend time together, alone." she mumbled while emphasizing the last word. Miyeon visibly frowned at what the latter said.

"Well, the more, the merrier," you smiled teasingly before closing your eyes and leaning against the headboard.

Not even a few seconds have passed, you felt a weight settled on your lap, meaning one of them is now on top of you.

"Y/n… You're not letting her join us, aren't you?"

You opened your eyes, but there's no more signs of mischief on them. Sana gulped audibly which made a smirk plaster on your lips.

"Why are you such a brat today, hmm?" your hand slowly nudged the strands of hair which covered her gorgeous face from your view. Without any warning, you joined her locks together and pulled them from behind. It drew a filthy moan from Sana as her lips part in slight agony.

"I-I'm sorry," her breath hitched, feeling your hand toying with the waistband of her laced thong.

"I'm sorry, what?" you raised an eyebrow as you pulled on her hair roughly than before.

"Daddy… I'm sorry, daddy."

You moved your hand down to swipe the tip of your finger against her damped core. Miyeon just sat on the edge of the bed like a tamed puppy wanting the attention of its owner, her jaw was clenched as she watched you and Sana with jealousy. You continued to tease the woman in your lap while a series of gentle cries came out from her mouth.

Deciding that Sana still haven't had enough, you ushered Miyeon to sit beside you which she immediately obliged. You released your other hand from Sana's hair before using it to hold Miyeon's chin as you leaned closer to her, "Can you do something for me, babygirl?"

The latter nods, melting further into your warm touch.

"Bring out your rope and vibrator for me."

Beads of sweat started to form around Sana's forehead as you continued to assault her swollen clit. Her thong was no longer on her, the piece of clothing had been resting on the floor for a while now. The latter is only wearing her baggy white tee that made her perky nipples noticeable under the thin piece of clothing.

Miyeon obediently followed your orders as she brought two of the toys you requested in no time. You motioned for her to stay put, grabbing the rope from her hands first.

"Let me know if it's too tight," you said while grabbing Sana's waist from behind.

You hooked your chin on her shoulder as you pressed your lips against the back of her neck. You gently tied the rope around her chest before speaking up, "Hands on your back." Sana immediately followed your command, her wrists also being binded by the rope. You let her wear her shirt on since the thick thread could leave marks on her precious skin.

After a few checks and securing the final knot, you pushed her harshly onto the bed while reaching for the vibrator. The Japanese had her face tucked in her pillow as you pulled her hips and turned her body around.

"You're always the prettiest when you're tied up like this, Sana-yah." you smiled, the woman underneath you squirms needily as you propped your arms between her.

Well, she was indeed gorgeous in her vulnerable state right now. Her eyes soften as you capture her lips slowly, unaware of the toy that's nearing her dripping core.

Once you slipped the vibrator between her wet folds, Sana's back arches in shock as the pleasure suddenly overwhelmed her body. Strangled whines and moans began to erupt from her while you kept on kissing her roughly. Miyeon couldn't help but to get entranced at how you handled the latter. She never experienced being fucked hard by you as she usually only lasted for a round or two. But seeing how good Sana must be feeling, she suddenly had the nerve to stop being so obedient, even just for a while.

You pulled away from Sana when a tug on your blouse disturbed you from continuing to keep your lips locked from the woman beneath you. You gave Sana a last glance before leaving the toy clenched inside her dripping cunt, "Enjoy your little punishment, my pretty slut." you breathed huskily. "And if you cum without my permission, you'll need to last longer through the night, darling."

The latter tried to tug on the rope as she started to mutter a few complaints, her hips grinding against the toy inserted in her at the same time. You let her blabber apologies while proceeding to tend on Miyeon who's sitting on her knees with her eyes locked onto her lap.

You sighed empathetically before reaching your hand out for her to take. She looks at you reluctantly before succumbing to your embrace. You leaned in to kiss the girl as her arms naturally wrapped around your neck. Your hands traveled down to her skirt as you unzipped the hindering material, tugging on it repeatedly until Miyeon got your intention.

After stripping all of her clothes, you pulled the latter to let her settle between your legs, the two of you facing Sana who's been uttering whines for a while now. Miyeon looks at you, conflicted at exposing herself in front of the Japanese who's trying to keep her eyes on you, silently begging for permission so she can finally have her awaited release.

"Be thankful that I'm still giving my attention to you, baby. Why don't you be a good girl and ride daddy's thigh, hmm?" you gave her a warning gaze, she didn't have any choice but to obey your command.

Miyeon proceeded to straddle your left thigh as she starts to grind herself against the rough texture of your black jeans. Her ragged pants made you grin from ear to ear, your hands snaked up to her mounds as you grazed your thumb to her hardening buds. The latter whines at the contact while you latched your mouth into the sensitive part of her back.

"That's it, Miyeon-ah. You're doing so well right now, babygirl." she felt you smirking against her skin.

You couldn't have any less effect on her as the wetness spreading on your thigh proves you right. You let Miyeon do her best to reach her high, your gaze then lands onto the other woman who's starting moan louder than before. Sana's eyes started to flutter close while she tried her best to hold her orgasm. You also noticed her body shaking uncontrollably, meaning she's trying her best to keep up with your demand.

"Y-Y/n, I can't…" she rasped out shakily. "Huh? You can't what, Sana-yah?"

You glanced at the arousal leaking from her cunt, she couldn't reply well but a frantic nod answers your question. Meanwhile, Miyeon is starting to reach her limit too. Her grinds are getting sloppy and her hips stutters nearly every thrust.

"Nghh, daddy, I'm gonna- fuck!" you hummed soothingly as Miyeon leans her head back in ecstasy. She releases a prolonged moan while avoiding eye contact with the suffering Japanese in front of her.

"You can cum too, Sana." you looked at her half-lidded eyes while rubbing Miyeon's tummy in a comforting manner.

The older lets out a loud mewl as her body washes through intense shockwaves. You let Miyeon lay down onto the mattress before assisting Sana by removing the vibrator from her worn out core and aligning it to her mouth instead. She looks at you with teary eyes before languidly licking her own juices.

You threw the toy away and gave Sana a gentle peck on the forehead. Your hands then went on to untie the knot on her wrists as you helped her to get the rope off her body, kissing the leftover marks on her chest, arms, and wrists.

You laid them beside each other, the two are still clearly averting their gazes from each other. Hopping off the bed, you grabbed some warm water and towels to clean their mess. They even tried to help you out as you gently wiped their bodies but you sternly told them to just rest.

After placing the used towels away, you joined the girls in the bed before giving each of them a kiss.

"You did well, unnies."

(a/n: ya'll how was it??? PFFFPFFFPFF i would appreciate some feedback 😊)

#twice imagines #twice reactions #twice scenarios #twice smut #sana imagines #sana smuts #gidle imagines #gidle reactions #gidle scenarios #gidle smut #minatozaki sana #cho miyeon #kpop #twice #gidle #i cant stop me #lol #girlgroups

213 notes · View notes

kissinginkitchens · 3 years

Text

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Seven: How Sweet It Is

a/n: Welcome back friends! Thank you again for tuning in for another chapter of YBMH. It has been so much fun to talk to you lovelies and hear your thoughts, so keep them coming! I have to give a very special thank you to the wonderful @duckyficrecs for all of the love and amazing commentary so far, I really appreciate you!! Happy reading! Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: unrealistic standards of men (sorry)

Word Count: 6.8k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, and six

Alani’s eyes peel open and she squints at the clock on the bedside table that reads 8:53 a.m. The sun creeps in gently behind the thin curtains, casting the room in a soft, warm glow that pales in comparison to the light inside her chest. As she inhales deeply, the arm strapped across her midsection rises, but it doesn’t budge. Alani turns over carefully to face Harry still sound asleep with a light snore escaping from his parted lips. She fondly observes every detail of his serene features, from the tiny freckles atop his cheekbones to the curl of his eyelashes. As her finger glides along the slope of his nose and the indentation of his cupid’s bow, Harry stirs lightly and his arm tightens around her waist with a contented sigh. Alani drapes her leg over his hip and presses a feathery kiss to the middle of his brow that causes the edges of his sleepy mouth to twitch.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she coos and Harry’s eyes flutter open slowly.

“Mornin’ beautiful,” he replies with a deep rasp in his voice.

She massages his scalp gently and he hums, planting a sweet kiss to the spot just over her heart.

“Y’hungry?” Harry murmurs against her skin.

Alani’s stomach growls in response and they both giggle.

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“Need a shower first,” she decides, sitting up.

Harry groans at the loss of contact, but he manages to secure a hand around her wrist. “Ten more minutes,”

“Nice try,”

“Five?”

Alani grins before burrowing under the covers again with her cheek fit snugly against Harry’s chest. His knuckles skim over her arm as he fights the drowsiness weighing on his eyelids.

“Did y’dream anything?” he mumbles.

“I did,” she admits apprehensively. “But I don’t know if you’re gonna like it,”

“Why not?”

“Well, I sorta dreamt that I was married to James Marsden—the guy from The Notebook,”

Harry laughs gently. “Lucky bastard,”

“What about you?” Alani deflects, peering up at him with curious eyes. “Any dreams?”

“Not really. But I did wake up a few times in the middle of the night ‘cos you were hogging all the blankets,”

“I get cold!”

“Uh-huh.”

Alani presses her chilly toes against Harry’s shins and he grimaces, peeling himself out of the bed to escape her icy touch. With a self-satisfied chuckle, she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slips away to the ensuite bathroom, chin held high as Harry trails close behind.

********

Harry digs out a faded t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from his closet for Alani to borrow, and although it’s a small gesture, the sight of her in his own clothing fills his entire body with euphoria. He holds out a white t-shirt with the Volkswagen logo on it and a pair of grey sweatpants that she accepts gratefully. While she slips into his clothes, Harry puts on a pair of running shorts and a black hoodie with the image of Earth and the words “Spice World” on the front. Next, he digs through his drawers and produces a red bandana that is used to keep the damp hair out of his face, but Alani has already braided her wavy locks before he can find a similar garment for her. Harry extends a hand and Alani interlocks her fingers with his as they set out for breakfast.

“Why don’t you go pick out some tunes?” He suggests when they reach the kitchen. “There’s a record player in the living room,”

Alani wiggles her brows and gives him a quick peck before venturing out ito the other room. Her eyes immediately land on a wall full of vinyls, and she excitedly browses them with delicate fingers. The Zombies, Bill Withers, and Sam Cooke are among the first in the collection, but her eyes widen when she spots a familiar blue cover. Joni, she gasps, pulling the record out of its sleeve. Alani quickly switches the player on and navigates the needle over the first track on the disk, turning the volume up and filling the room with the sound of a folk guitar. Harry’s ears perk up in the other room and the music brings a wide grin to his face. A few moments later, Alani reemerges in the kitchen, her hips swaying; she reaches out for Harry’s hands, which are occupied with the switches on the stovetop and a carton of eggs. He puts it down and gives Alani a twirl, which elicits a playful giggle that tugs on his heartstrings. His hands settle around her waist while her arms weave around his neck. They sway for a moment, hips flush with one another, before another soft kiss is exchanged.

“Looks like I don’t need a ‘kiss the cook’ apron after all,” Harry jokes lightly, their noses still touching.

Alani rolls her eyes with a scoff. “You haven’t made anything yet,”

“That’s because a certain dancing queen keeps distracting me,”

“Fine,” she starts to pull away but Harry immediately ropes her back in.

“Not yet,” he smirks, lifting her with a quick spin. Alani shrieks and her arms tighten around his neck.

“I see the lovebirds are up,” Mitch grumbles, the heel of his hand rubbing his tired eyes.

The pair conceal their laughter and put a bit of space between each other, though Harry instantly misses Alani’s touch.

“Morning, Mitch,” she says sweetly.

The guitarist forces a smile on his face and reaches inside the fridge for a bottle of water. “Morning,” he returns, padding back to the hallway. “And keep it down, you crazy kids. Some of us are hungover and not in the lovesick way.”

Alani’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, mom.”

Harry snickers and he returns to the stove with a gentle shake of his head.

They scarf their breakfasts down with legs woven together under the table and fingers interlaced. While their meals are identical, they take turns feeding off of each other’s plates and stealing sips of the other person’s drink. Harry feigns annoyance over the spilt orange juice on the t-shirt that he lent to Alani, though a part of him hopes it will leave a stain as a subtle reminder of this moment. It amazes the both of them just how quickly they had fallen into a shared rhythm, as if breakfast was a sacred ritual engraved into their muscle memory. But despite the natural ease that comes with each other’s presence, there is an impending sense of dread looming over Alani and Harry’s heads about the inevitable end to their domestic bliss.

“I should probably get back soon,” she sighs, thinking of her younger sister waiting alone at the house.

His stomach turns. “Do you have to?”

“Afraid so. Need to check on Pua and Freddie,”

Harry nods with a small sigh and collects both of their plates. “‘Kay,”

Alani follows him into the kitchen and her arms delicately wrap around his torso from behind when they reach the sink. “Are you upset?” she asks timidly.

Harry’s heart cracks, racked with guilt over his petty behavior. It wasn’t her fault that she had to leave eventually, and it wasn’t right to take his disappointment out on her. He turns his back to their dishes and presses a light kiss to the tip of her nose.

“No,” Harry assures her with a soft, dimpled smile. “Could never be upset with my sweet girl. Just gonna miss you.”

Alani’s chest stirs at his words and she slots her needy lips between his. Now that they had tasted a little less than twenty-four uninterrupted hours together, being apart for more than one moment seemed near impossible. Harry’s fingers slip inside the back of her shirt, and his nails gently graze the outline of her spine with a sly grin.

“I don’t think I’ll have what she’s having,” Jeff teases, sifting through a bowl of fruit on the counter. Harry grits his teeth and makes a mental note to plot revenge on all of his friends later.

“Good morning,” Alani offers shyly, pulling away from his warm touch.

Jeff smiles and waves with a banana in hand. “Buenos días. Always good to see you, Alani.”

“You too,”

He whistles a cheerful tune and roams into the living room, leaving the pair alone again.

“I think we better go before we get caught.” Alani jokes weakly.

********

The Range Rover pulls up slowly in front of Alani’s house and Harry’s grip on her hand tightens as he puts the car into park.

“Where’re your parents?” he wonders aloud, reaching in the backseat for a spare bag that Alani can use to carry her clothes in.

“Mom had a big surgery this weekend, so she stayed at the hospital to keep an eye on her patient. Dad is in California on this chef’s weekend trip with, like, Guy Fieri or something. Just me and Pua until tomorrow night,”

Harry hums, watching her stuff her belongings into the bag. “You working?”

“Yeah, I close tonight,”

Damn, he swears to himself. There go his plans. “What’re you doing until then?”

Alani shrugs with her hand already on the door handle. “Chores, I guess. You?”

“Probably nothing,” Harry sighs. “Missing you.”

She grins and presses an affectionate peck to his cheek. “Ditto, sunshine. I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“I won’t miss it.” The new pet name makes his stomach twist, but the butterflies quickly turn to stones when she slips out of the car.

Alani begrudgingly treks down the stone pathway when she hears loud music coming from the car behind her. Turning quickly, she spots Harry peeking over the roof of the SUV with the song “Baby Don’t Go” by The Supremes blaring from his speakers. She shakes her head playfully and blows him a kiss before retreating back to her house; He catches it in his palm and presses his palm to his lips. The song is still playing softly when Alani closes the door and she momentarily considers throwing all caution to the wind by inviting him inside.

“I’d ask how your night went, but I think half the block knows that answer now,” Pua smirks with arms crossed as she descends the stairs.

Alani offers a sheepish smile and clutches Harry’s bag to her chest. “Morning,”

“Are those his clothes?” her sister questions.

“Yeah,”

“Okay that’s really sweet, actually,”

Alani shuffles through the house to make sure that everything is still in one piece and Pua follows close behind, anxious for all of the details about her older sister’s date. “So I wanna hear everything, but you can spare me the making out parts,” she insists.

“What? Harry didn’t give you the rundown already?” Alani pokes. “I’m assuming you’re the one who told him about Angelo’s,”

“It may have come up once—casually, of course,” Pua admits.

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but the confirmation that Harry had conspired with her sister melts her heart. “Well then, I guess I owe you some thanks for a perfect night,”

“It was all his idea,” Pua maintains with her hands raised in surrender. “But it was? I mean, really perfect?”

“Straight out of a movie,”

“He has that way about him, doesn’t he?”

Alani’s mouth curls gently. She couldn’t describe Harry’s allure better if she tried. “He really does,”

“I can’t believe it,” Pua muses with a starry look in her round eyes. “My sister is dating the Harry Styles. I can practically hear the millions of hearts shattering over the news,”

Out of all the thoughts running through Alani’s mind these days, the public’s response to her blossoming relationship with Harry was apparently last on that list. Fame hardly seemed to be the focal point of his life given how little he had to say on the subject, thus it was easy to forget that he was, in fact, a celebrity, especially when they were alone. But despite his reluctance to open up about stardom, it’s a conversation that Alani figures she should prepare for.

“Speaking of,” she begins, making her way upstairs. “What are his fans like? You know, what should I expect?”

Pua considers it for a moment, searching for the right words. “Passionate I guess. Loyal,”

“And they’re all in love with him?”

“Can you blame them?”

Alani chuckles lightly and her chest swells as she reflects on her growing feelings for Harry. While she had initially wanted to believe that he was no different from any other guy, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stand by that judgement. His immense thoughtfulness was evident long before he had whisked her away for the evening of her dreams. Afterall, what famous person willingly agrees to help a stranger with their homework? And then there was Harry’s boyish charm and tenderness that no leading man in any romantic comedy seemed to rival in Alani’s opinion. Could never be upset with my sweet girl, his words echo.

“No,” Alani exhales, her throat tightening with a sudden sense of longing. “I really can’t,”

Pua squeals and envelops her sister in a warm embrace. “God, I’m really so happy for you both. My favorite singer and my favorite sister,”

Alani hugs her sister tight and it temporarily quells the ache left by Harry’s absence. “Me too.”

“But if he hurts you, I will kill him.”

********

“Hey Harry, what do you think about Maui?” Jeff proposes, typing into his phone. “The resort’s got a private pool for every room,”

Harry blinks with a faint smile still on his lips. “For what?”

“Next weekend, maybe. Glenne and Jenny are thinking of meeting us there,”

The thought of going an entire weekend away from Alani makes Harry’s brows furrow. He was going on just five hours now and it was complete torture.

“Can’t,” he says quickly. “I’ve got—”

“You can bring Alani,” Jeff reassures him with a knowing smirk. “But you two gotta promise you’ll socialize,”

Harry blushes and his chest aches at the sound of her name. “I’ll ask,”

“Don’t make me say it,” Mitch threatens from the sound booth. Harry’s head tilts, challenging his friend to continue. The drummer clears his throat and coughs into his closed fist. “Whipped,”

“You’re just jealous that your girlfriend couldn’t make the trip ‘cos she’s too busy being a badass rockstar,” Harry shoots back coolly.

“So we’re dropping the g-word, huh?”

The singer casts his eyes down at the guitar in his lap and fiddles with the strings to occupy his hands. “Dunno,”

“He’s got it bad,” Tom teases, turning to Jeff Bhasker with a dramatic outstretched hand. “Alani, my dearest, how could I ever live without you?”

“Oh, Harry.” Jeff raises his voice a pitch.

Tom drops to his knee, clutching Jeff’s hand to his chest, and the group erupts into laughter. “Say you’ll be mine at once!”

Harry relinquishes a shy smile and a dry laugh at his friends’ antics in an effort to be a good sport. “Very funny. Oscars for you both.”

His idle fingers continue strumming the guitar gently as everyone else dissolves into their own conversations. The phone balanced on his thigh pings, and though the notification has nothing to do with Alani, Harry decides to check in.

Harry: How’s the weather?

He can’t think of anything particularly witty to say, but the mere action of sending her a message keeps him from dissolving into a puddle on the floor.

Alani: Google is free, you know

Harry: Ouch. Trying to tell you that I miss you here :(

Alani giggles at Harry’s clingy show of affection. Truth be told, she also misses him deeply and resents the fact that she has to work instead of staying snuggled into his side all day. The smell of his shampoo lingers in her hair and it twists the knife deeper. She decides to snap a silly photo of herself, eyes crossed, and sends it off to him.

Alani: Missing you too, my little pocket of sunshine ☀️

Harry’s heart nearly bursts from his chest when he opens the attachment, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. He quickly saves the photo to his phone before setting it as his lock screen.

Harry: My god you’re going to be the death of me

Alani: The feeling is mutual

It takes less than five minutes of admiring the photo for Harry to decide that he can’t go any longer without the real thing.

Harry: What time does your shift start?

Alani: 5 minutes

Swiping his wallet and keys, Harry slips out of the studio without another word.

********

Alani ties her hair up and adjusts her apron as she heads out into the busy restaurant. She quickly falls into a rhythm of taking orders, clearing tables, and filling drinks while the minutes in her eight hour shift tick by. Before she knows it, an hour has already passed and her mind is completely occupied with her guests, but a familiar voice sticks out among the buzz of it all.

“Excuse me, miss?” Harry pipes up from the counter, a bouquet of sunflowers emerging from behind his back. “Think these are for you,”

Alani fights back a smile, but it’s no use. She accepts the flowers gratefully and raises them to her nose.

“Why, thank you. They’re beautiful,”

“They’ve got nothing on you,” he suggests, leaning in closer over the counter. His eyes dart to her lips in silent prayer, but Alani clears her throat and scans the busy scene around them.

“Can I get you something?”

Harry peruses the menu with a serious dent between his brows. “Hmm sure, I think I’ll have the Chef’s Salad—dressing on the side—a lemonade, and a kiss,”

Alani smirks, accepting the menu from his hand. “The kiss is extra,”

“Make it two, then,” he offers expectantly, but she shakes her head in disapproval.

“Kissing the waitresses isn’t allowed,”

“Well what if I don’t wanna kiss a waitress?” Harry counters. “What if I wanna kiss my…”

He intentionally trails off to read Alani’s reaction, but she suddenly feels flustered by the implications of his statement and turns on her heel to put in his order. “I’ll go get your lemonade.”

“Alaniii.” he complains, watching her back away. She shoots him a wink over her shoulder and darts into the kitchen to avoid his further protests.

The afternoon rush gradually subsides after another hour of Alani racing around the restaurant. Eventually, as she heads back to the counter to refill two iced teas, Harry catches her attention again and holds up his own glass. “I think something was missing in my lemonade,”

She frowns. “What was it?”

“Some sugar,” he replies with a mischievous grin. “Have any to spare?”

Alani rolls her eyes playfully, but before she can quip back with something clever, one of her co-workers calls her to the kitchen. Harry slumps in his seat and picks at an olive on his plate.

Two more hours go by and he silently watches Alani dart from table to table, hunched over a journal splayed in front of him. Alani’s eyes repeatedly linger in his direction as the night winds down and she knows without a shadow of doubt that more of his antics await, but she can’t resist wandering over to indulge his advances and her own curiosity.

“Whatcha working on?” she questions with a quick glance at the page in front of him.

Harry beams, shutting the book and leaning against the counter on his elbows. “More pick-up lines,”

“I admire your tenacity,” Alani chuckles lightly. “How long are you gonna stick around here?”

“How long you got left?”

“Three hours,”

“Then I’ll have another lemonade.” he says with a flash of his infectious smile.

Alani swipes his nearly empty cup, but before she retreats to fill it again, her head lowers to his level and she plants a chaste kiss to his eager lips. “Didn’t wanna forget your sugar this time.”

Families come and go and tables are cleared as the sun disappears into the horizon. By the last hour of Alani’s shift, the restaurant is practically dead save for Harry, who eventually migrated from his perch at the counter to a more comfortable booth in the corner. The sight of Alani rolling out her shoulders across the room steals his attention away from his scribbles, so he stands and makes his way over. When his warm fingertips meet her tense muscles, she immediately sinks into the touch.

“That better?” Harry murmurs, feeling her gradually relax as he works the knots at the base of her neck and shoulders.

“Yeah,” Alani hums. The relief is instant just like it always is when he’s around. After a moment, she reaches up to where his fingers are pressed against her skin and she spins so they’re standing chest to chest, hands clasped.

“Hi,” she greets softly.

“Hiya,”

“I can’t believe you stayed here all day,”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s better than being at the house missing you. Besides, I got some work done, too, so I’d say it was a success overall,”

The edges of Alani’s mouth turn up and she pulls away slightly with their hands still attached. “Oh yeah? So are you finished with that book of pick-up lines, then?”

“Almost,” Harry laughs airily. “Think it might even be a New York Times Best Seller,”

“Maybe ditch the ‘have any spare sugar?’ one. It’s a bit saccharine, don’t you think?”

“Dunno, that one worked pretty well, if my lips remember correctly.”

The corners of Alani’s mouth curl and she pulls away with their hands still attached. “Want some pie?”

“What kind?”

“Cherry,” she says, making her way over to the dessert bar.

“The best kind,” Harry replies, taking his seat.

Alani cuts out a generous portion and serves it to him. “I’m more of an apple pie girl,”

“A la mode?”

“Definitely,”

“You know,” Harry starts, cutting out a slice with his fork. “I used to work in a bakery,”

“Is that so?” she indulges him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the counter.

“Oh yeah. I’m a natural baker, it’s what they all used to say,”

“You’re gonna have to prove it one of these days,”

“Maybe I will,”

Alani rests her chin in her hand and watches Harry finish the rest of his pie, a content glimmer in his eyes. It’s ten minutes to closing time, so she wipes down the counter and starts the routine that she knows all too well. Harry sneaks off to the jukebox and sifts through the selections available, his tongue peeking through the corner of his lips when his eyes land on the perfect song. A gentle piano wafts through the restaurant followed by Diana Ross’ vocals singing a cover of “Bring it On Home to Me.” Alani hums the familiar tune and continues cleaning up before she feels an arm slink around her waist. She stops her work and turns around to face Harry who is singing the lyrics softly.

“Bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’, bring it on home to me,”

Alani turns slowly to face him and she watches his strawberry lips carefully, realizing that this is the first time she’s ever heard him sing in person. His voice is low and smooth with just the right amount of grit behind it. She savors the sound, wondering what he would sound like performing his own lyrics before her memory recalls the image of him stooped over his notebook, scribbling something secret. The pair begin to sway gently, Harry still singing as he pulls Alani closer. He slips one hand to hers and lifts it so they’re in the starting position of a waltz. She slips an arm around his neck and her head meets his shoulder, feeling the vibration of his voice against her temple. For the remainder of the song, everything ceases to exist but the two of them: two hearts beating against each other—beating for each other. Harry dips Alani gingerly as the melody begins to fade out and she cranes her neck just enough to grant him another tender kiss. Her lips feel like the first sip of water after a long journey through the desert, and he knows that he will never get enough as he pours every ounce of adoration and longing that he can possibly muster into the kiss. Slowly, he brings her back to standing with their lips still attached before pulling away to catch his breath.

“I’ve never heard you sing.” Alani murmurs with her heart still racing. “Not like that,”

“I’ve never sung like that before,” he confesses, referring to the emotion behind the lyrics. “Guess I never really had a reason to.”

Alani’s breath hitches. Once again, she finds herself toeing the line between reality and fantasy. It often felt like he was too good to be true and this moment is no exception, but the delicate brush of his fingertips against her arm coaxes her back to the present—and very real— moment. Alani hugs him to her chest to feel the fierce beating of her heart and the drum of her own love song.

********

“Did that sound weird?”

“Sounded fine to me,”

Harry chews on his lower lip, eyes pinched shut as he locates the correct pitch in his head. “No, it sounded weird. Let’s go again,”

“You got it,” Tom says over the sound system that floods into the recording booth. “Take two of Harry’s untitled thing, rolling,”

“That’s not what we’re calling it on the tape, is it?”

“We are until you title it,”

Harry releases an amused breath. “Fair enough. Let’s just call it…” he hums and a faint smile creeps across his lips. “Let’s call it Clair de Lune for now.”

Tom scoffs. “Okay Debussy. Take two on Clair de Lune.”

“What does that mean?” Jeff asks, adjusting the levels on the soundboard.

“It’s French for ‘moonlight,’” Mitch declares. “According to Google Translate.”

Alani peeks inside the back entrance of the dimly lit studio and immediately hears a faint chorus of laughter. She cautiously steps inside and follows the sound down a narrow corridor, treading lightly to go unnoticed. The familiar gaggle of voices grows louder as she reaches the end of the hall and up to the door of the sound booth left slightly ajar. Her head pops in first, index finger raised to her lips, and Jeff silently beckons her inside while Harry and Tom go back and forth over the sound system.

“It’s fine—”

“—It’s not fine, it’s missing something.”

“So go again, but maybe try head voice instead of falsetto this time.”

Alani observes the scene with her back pressed firmly against the door to remain out of Harry’s sight. His presence at the café earlier in the week had been such a pleasant part of her day that she decided it was her turn to surprise him and show support for his work, which would undoubtedly be more interesting than watching her serve food for hours on end. The impromptu day off cost her a week of doing Pua’s laundry, but it was worth the chance of becoming a fly on the wall in the studio before eventually stealing Harry away for a few hours.

“I think I wanna do a harmony for this bit,” he says finally after a minute of playful bickering with Tom. “Can you send Mitchell in?”

The guitarist flashes two thumbs up through the window and stands, but he makes his way over to Alani, instead, and prompts her to go in his place with a conspiratorial wink. She slips inside the recording booth and Harry casually glances up from his notes, doing a double take and grinning wide when he realizes that it’s her.

“Sweets,” he beams, hanging up his headphones to scoop her into a tight embrace.

Alani’s feet hover a few inches from the floor and she giggles into the crook of his neck. “Hi, sunshine,”

“Whatcha doing here?”

“Just wanted to see you,” she admits, pulling away to relish in his dimples and bright eyes. “Well alright, maybe I also planned to kidnap you at some point, too, if that’s okay,”

Harry laughs and plants a kiss to her cheek. “Course it’s okay. Was just about to take a break and head your way, but you beat me to it,”

“Perfect,” Alani smirks. “So I’ll just wait for you to finish up here and then we can head out,”

The singer shakes his head before taking her hand and stepping over to the microphone.

“That’s a wrap for the day. Great work everyone,”

“You don’t have to do that,” she insists. “I can wait—”

“—Well I can’t. I’m dying to see where you’re whisking me off to.” Harry quips back, already escorting her out of the booth with a jaunty spring in his step.

********

“You can open your eyes now,” Alani bids after putting Stevie into park.

“Finally,” Harry huffs teasingly. “Missed your face,”

They share a lighthearted kiss before Alani nods to the passenger side window. “Aren’t you curious to know where I dragged you to?”

Harry’s head turns, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips as he catches a glimpse of the sign that reads ‘Akaka Falls State Park. “Hey! Déjà vu,”

“My reason for bringing you here is twofold,” Alani explains, reaching into the backseat for the supplies she had brought along. “I know you’ve been in kind of a writer's rut lately, so I figured some proximity to the falls might help. But I also thought that maybe you could flex your painting skills, too,”

A tote bag full of fresh paint, canvas, and brushes materializes onto the middle console between them and Harry’s eyes light up. He gleefully sifts through the materials before looking back at Alani with a tender expression. “Alani, this is amazing,”

“I want you to draw me like one of your french girls,” she jokes with batted lashes. “Sorry, I’ve been sitting on that one since yesterday,”

Harry’s eyes crinkle with unbridled laughter. “You’re the best,”

“You get me,”

“Well what are we waiting for?” he questions, stepping out of the car and into the fresh air. “We’ve got some masterpieces to create,”

Alani meets him at the hood, and her arm slings across his back as his rests around her shoulders. “Full disclosure: I’m terrible at arts and crafts. I think I was the only ten year old who flunked art class,”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,”

“It’s true!”

“But you’re good at everything,” Harry reasons. “Maybe you’re just one of those artists who weren’t appreciated in their own time.”

Alani scoffs, her gaze occupied with the way their steps fall into sync. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

They venture down the same route as their very first trip to the falls, though this time joined at the hip. The cerulean sky overhead and high summer sun provides the ideal subject for landscape paintings, and though dozens of tourists have also gathered to enjoy the perfect day, Alani and Harry are oblivious to everyone else. His cheeks flush with self-consciousness when she casually mentions the song that she had overheard him working on earlier, and he simply rubs the back of his neck and feigns ignorance when she asks what it’s about. It had always wracked his nerves to let other people hear his music before it was completely finished, but the fact that his current work-in-progress was heavily inspired by Alani only makes him that much more reluctant to share. While her curiosity begs to her to keep prying, she shrugs it off and refocuses on the lush scene before them as they reach Harry’s favorite lookout spot.

“What’re you gonna paint?” he asks, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he picks out his supplies.

“I don’t know,” Alani ponders. “What about you?”

“Something good—hopefully,”

“Have you ever painted before?”

Harry’s eyes lift to the sky, as if searching the clouds for his answer. “Sure. Loved art class when I was in school. It’s a good way to de-stress,”

“Have any favorite artists?”

“Keith Haring’s pretty great, saw some of his stuff in New York City last time I was there,”

“Oh yeah, he’s incredible,” Alani agrees, mixing some paint on her platter. “Hey, have you ever been to the Louvre?”

Harry nods and the tip of his tongue peeks through the corner of his lip in concentration. “Yes actually, once,”

“Lucky. Paris is definitely on my bucket list,”

“Good to know,” her comment is stored in the back of Harry’s mind for future reference. “Hey sweets, you’ve got something on your face,”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, riiiiight,” Harry leans in, silently dipping his pinky in a dollop of pink paint before pulling back and smearing it across the bridge of her nose. “There,”

“Hey!” she cries.

Harry throws his head back and laughs. “I don’t know how you didn’t see that one coming,”

“You are such a child,”

“It’s fun, you should try it,”

Alani’s lower lip pouts. “Don’t wanna,”

“Sure you do,” Harry insists, holding out his plate of colors to her. “Go ahead,”

She releases a sharp breath and turns her back to him, strategically dipping her fingers in her own palette out of his sight.

“Sweets,” Harry coos. “Alani, hey, I’m sorry. That was a stupid—”

Her fingertips meet the side of his face and slide down to his chin, leaving a trail of yellow, orange, and blue. “Oh, sorry. What were you about to say?”

Harry’s mouth hangs agape and he blinks slowly. “You know what, I’ll let that one slide,”

“No you won’t.”

“No I won’t.”

Alani springs up from the bench and turns to bolt, but Harry’s arms snake around her waist and lift her in the air with one swift move. She shrieks, but she doesn’t fight his grasp and turns to face him instead, offering her puckered lips in surrender. Harry slots their mouths together with a satisfied smirk, but the spirited kiss quickly dissolves into laughter when their teeth collide.

********

Alani flips her bedroom light on and ushers Harry inside. “Sorry about the mess,”

He steps inside and absorbs every detail, taking note of all the photos and trinkets on display. The walls are a shade of blush, which doesn’t surprise him, and the bed is tucked neatly in the corner under a skylight. String lights dangle along one wall above a desk piled high with books and magazines. A hanging plant in another corner catches his attention, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the presence of her own record player and collection of vinyls. A red, heart shaped rug in the middle of the room ties it all together, and Harry doesn’t think that it could possibly be more Alani. She plops onto the bed with her completed artwork and motions for him to do the same. When he makes himself comfortable, she turns the canvas over with a wiggle of her brows.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s amazing,” Harry applauds, admiring the blobs of colorful shapes that somehow coalesce into a perfectly admirable—yet unidentifiable—piece of art. “What is it?”

“It’s you!”

“Me?”

“Mhmm,” she begins, sitting up straighter to explain. “I really tried to go for the Keith Haring thing, but I added a little bit of my own touch to it. And there’s me too, see? The pink one in the back. And that’s supposed to be a palm tree but it looks kinda like a dude with green hair,”

Harry’s heart soars. “You made us into a Keith Haring?”

“I know it’s not as cool as what he would’ve done, but—”

“—It’s perfect,” he asserts. “I love it,”

Alani beams and she sits back on her heels, setting the painting against her nightstand. “Your turn,”

“Alright, well,” Harry clears his throat. “I also tried to emulate your favorite artist, so hopefully you’ll like it,”

He turns the painting over and a light gasp escapes Alani’s lips. She immediately recognizes the waterfall—the same one from ‘Akaka Falls that they had visited together twice now. Alani had had the slightest inkling that Harry was being modest about his artistic abilities, but she hadn’t quite anticipated this level of skill.

“Harry,” she starts, breathless. “I don’t even know what to say. This is incredible,”

“It’s no Georgia O'Keeffe, but I did my best,” he offers sheepishly.

Alani shakes her head with a small laugh. “I kind of hate you for saying that. It’s gorgeous. Blows my stupid kiddie craft out of the water,”

“Hey,” Harry tuts. “I love your painting, it’s so creative,”

“Yeah, well, yours is infinitely better and I love everything about it,” Alani states matter-of-factly, admiring each brushstroke and use of color. “So would it be okay if I—I mean… can I keep it?”

“Course you can, made it for you,”

“You did?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits shyly. “It’s kinda like our spot, you know?”

A wide grin splits across Alani’s lips and she slinks her arms around his neck to bring him closer. “Yeah, I guess it is,”

“And the lookout where we saw that rainbow and had our first kiss,”

“Right,”

“Maybe even the café,”

“The whole island,” Alani hums. “And the sun, and the moon, and the stars,”

Harry smiles softly. “The sun and the moon, eh Mahealani?”

“Funny how life works out like that, isn’t it sunshine?”

next chapter

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry styles #ybmh #sorry for the delay blame tumblr!!!

34 notes · View notes

ilguna · 4 years

Text

Redamancy - Chapter Eight (f.o)

summary: it’s time to forgive and repair.

warnings; swearing, murder, HEAVY GORE, mentions of FORCED PROSTITUTION.

wc; 12k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If it weren’t for the irritating sun rays landing right on your face and into your eyes, you’d bask in this warm feeling forever. It’s like receiving an embrace from spring, herself. Bright sunlight, tolerable temperatures, bees, flowers, sundresses, picnics and comfortable afternoons in the park with your family. You can’t count how many good memories you have from grass fields and playgrounds in District Four.

Watching Alyssum run around the park, making friends and being a kid while she can is the most satisfying part. You can watch her for hours, lose yourself in her carelessness. Your sister hasn’t got a worry in the world to think about, it makes you envy her. A nice house, warm meals, a loving family. None of you are perfect, but you try to be for her.

There’s a lot she’s going to be missing out on already when it comes to parents. She has you, Reed and Mox to fill those roles for her. You’d like to say she can’t miss something she’s never experienced, you’d be lying, though. You miss a regular teenage life that you never got to live, thanks to the Hunger Games. The Capitol is always ruining something, even if they’re not actively trying.

Which brings you back to reality. As much as you’d like to lay here in the soft blankets and keep to your warm spot on the bed, you’ve got to get moving. If the sun is in your eyes already, it only means that your time is up when it comes to sleeping. Like a natural alarm clock, only somehow more annoying, even if it’s not loud and in your face.

You turn onto your back, slowly opening your eyes. You’re met with a white ceiling, smooth and crack-free. Back home in your room, your ceiling has plenty of cracks. When you don’t feel like getting up immediately, you’ll play a game with yourself. See which ones will start on one side of the room and make it to the other. You’ve gotten good at it, and confidently say that there’s a few that go beyond that, they go to the windowsill.

With a gentle sigh, you sit up on the bed, turned toward the window, stretching your arms above your head. It feels good to get the blood pumping through your arms and shoulders again. You can’t really help it when the stretch extends down to your legs. A low moan leaves your lips, and stops dead in your throat when your thighs begin to hurt.

You hum, standing on your feet. It hurts at first, but the more you move around the room, the better you begin to feel. You stare out of the window for a couple of seconds to see that the Capitol is already alive. It’s definitely past noon at this point. So much for a rotating schedule with Finnick, you’ve already ruined it.

You look over the room you’re in, which definitely isn’t your own. It’s Finnick’s, with the bamboo bed frame, white sheets and the hammock across his room. You used to hear him say how much he enjoyed your room over his, something about the ceiling to floor windows that you have. Takes up an entire wall, gives you a great view of the city. Better than the tiny windows he has lining the wall.

The clock says that it’s a little after two. You two really have got to start moving before you miss out on anything inside of the arena. Not to mention, poor Gloss is sitting down there alone. He hasn’t had a friend to sit with since six this morning. A whole eight hours can be boring as hell, and quite frankly, lonely. He might have resorted talking to the sponsors, at this point.

Finnick is still sleeping on the bed, of course. His back is turned to the sun, explaining why he hasn’t woken up just yet. It’s not going to stay that way for very long. You’d leave him sleeping up here if it weren’t for the fact that it’s entertaining to see him hungover. It’s not often you get to see him like that, and you’re not really willing to pass up an opportunity. Plus, you might as well keep him around as company so it doesn’t get awkward later.

Before you wake him up, you find and put on your bra. He got to see all of you last night, there’s no reason to continue to walk around shirtless. You pick up your pants, and tank top, as your shoes are kicked off by the door. You begin to pull on your jeans, having to bounce slightly to pull them up all the way, when Finnick rolls over.

He groans, throwing his arm over his face to keep the sun from getting in his face. You’re satisfied to see that he’s about to get the same unpleasant wakening that you got, until you realize that his arm completely blocks out the light. What a shame, you were looking forward to watching him come to life like a zombie.

“Hey,” your voice is soft, not really wanting to disturb the peace. He doesn’t seem to hear you, or maybe you’re too quiet. You speak a little louder, “We should probably get down to the betting room, check on our tributes.”

Finnick freezes, and then jolts upright. His wide eyes land on you easily, face twisting as he slowly thinks over the scene in front of him. You pull on your tank top, raising your eyebrows as you wait for him to come to the conclusion himself. After a couple more seconds, he hums out a small tune and falls back onto his pillows, closing his eyes.

“I thought I was still at a client’s house for a second.” he breathes.

“Good morning,” you muse, “How are you feeling?”

“Besides the pounding headache, my back’s pretty messed up.” his eyes open, giving you a sly smirk. You grab one of his shoes, which aren’t as close to the door as yours are, and chuck it at him. Finnick laughs loudly, catching the shoe before it makes a hole in the wall, “I’m fine, considering that I finished half of your drink last night on top of mine.”

“One of us had to be responsible, and I figured that you wouldn’t want to be the one.”

“The next time we go out, I’m going to make you loosen up.” Finnick says.

“If you’re calling me uptight, I’ll shove a stick up your ass so you can see how it feels.” you lean against the wall.

He rolls his eyes, getting out of bed. He’s got a pair of boxers on, so he’s not completely naked either, “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested, actually. Your bed is pretty comfortable.”

“You’re welcome to sleep here any time.” Finnick says, kicking yesterday’s jeans into the corner, as well as the shirt.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you snort, collecting your shoes, “I’m going to take a shower and get ready. I’ll see you in the dining room.”

“Sure.”

You leave his room, shutting the door behind you. In your own, you quickly change and throw the dirty clothes off to the side for easy collecting when the avoxes come around later. It’s not as hot inside of the Tribute Center as it was yesterday, but the heat is still apparent enough to be one of the first things on your mind. You settle for a pair of shorts, sandals and a white tank top.

You throw the pile of clothes onto the bathroom countertop. The door whooshes shut behind you, sending a cold breeze of air straight to your back. Much like yesterday, you turn the shower water to cold, just on the verge of being warm. You decide to skip getting your hair wet, since you don’t really have time to mess around. It’s a quick wash with sweet smelling soaps before you’re out again.

As you’re drying yourself with the cyan blue towel, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. And with what you see the first time briefly, you have to go back to check that you saw correctly. A scowl appears on your face when you get closer, fingers gently brushing against your collarbone. Little dark marks litter your skin.

You press your lips together, staring for a couple of seconds longer. You have no choice, you have to cover these up. So, you pull on your clothes and get to work with the makeup, trying to find colors that’ll cancel out the hickey colors. You spend a good ten minutes blending, color correcting, and starting over when it’s too obvious. When you’re finally done, you can still tell that they’re there, but it won’t be the first thing anyone sees when they look at you.

You’d just wear a regular shirt if it weren’t for the fact that you’re already sweating with the tanktop on. You put on the sandals on your way out, making sure your ring is secured on your hand. Finnick is already sitting at the dining room table when you get out there, hair wet and he’s dressed in pink and white.

“Took you long enough.” he says, stabbing his fork into a pancake piece and placing it in his mouth.

You glare as you sit down on the chair, “I had a problem. Actually, you gave me a couple of problems and I solved them.”

His face twists, eyeing you now, trying to find the difference. When a plate of pancakes is served in front of you, plate hot to the touch, you cut up the pancakes, slightly amused by his determination to try and prove you wrong. Does he really think that he’ll be able to? You’ve gone through this plenty of times before with Anchor.

Finnick shrugs, “Whatever you say.”

At least now you have insurance that you did a good job. Finnick might be some type of moronic but that doesn’t mean he misses details. It’s the small things that you have to look out for. Another skill that you need when you’re mentoring, another thing to add to the list that you’ve gotten good at after these years. From what you remember, Finnick’s not too bad at it, himself.

The avox turns on the tv without either of you asking, but you thank him anyway. As you go for fruits instead of syrup this morning, you catch up on the arena with Finnick. Sanguin is in the cornucopia, a fire going in front of her. She’s got some sort of animal skewered using her sword, roasting it over the fire. She looks pissed, staring into the fire, letting the flames flicker in her eyes.

You’d like to say that she finally lost her mind, but she lost it a long time ago. Way before Bauhinia. Maybe while she was being strategically trained to think that the other tributes in the arena were animals? Or maybe when she volunteered for the Hunger Games like it would be a walk in the park? It’s hard to say exactly, there’s a lot of moments in these past few weeks where she could’ve gone wrong.

At any rate, she’s got enough water to last her a while. You can confidently say that she won’t be leaving the cornucopia unless it’s to get more food. There’s no way that the sponsors are going to cough up any money just for her to eat. Especially when she’s supposed to be trained for the arena. She should know how to hunt and gather. Besides, you’re sure that Gloss would want them to wait until it’s something important, like that healing cream. Even then, it took a couple of people to pitch in. The prices are getting amped up, it’s harder to pay for things now.

You have a feeling that she’s sitting down there for a reason, instead of going off and trying to hunt down any other tributes. She’s healed by now, you watched her put more healing cream on her body last night before she decided to call it a night. Which means that this morning, the entire wound has got to be gone. She’s still going to be sore when moving around, but that’s an obvious nuisance. She technically should be able to work through it.

So, if she’s not interested in hunting Tekla, that means she’s waiting for Annie to come out of the village. And you’d say that’s a pretty big problem, except for the fact that it’s not. Annie’s got plenty of food and water from her raid on the career backpacks and whatever Marsh was holding before he died. If she doesn’t want to, she won’t have to leave the house unless it’s for some sort of Capitol-generated emergency.

After yesterday, you can’t see them doing something like that. You don’t even think that both tributes dying were intentional. They like to watch the last couple of teens fight it out, since they’re the ones that are either: one, completely trained for the arena and know how to take another tribute out with a simple tree branch and a rock. Or, they’re completely lucky and know how to blend into their surroundings and stay there until the Capitol is forced to step in. They only do it when there’s been several days without any interaction between tributes and the Capitol citizens are starting to riot.

Those tributes are the ones that can go days without food. Water, not so much, but they’ll find a source nearby and stick with it as long as they can without getting suspicious. It’s not an impressive feat to go days without eating, it just goes to show the horrible living conditions inside of the other districts. Fortunately, your family hit rock bottom, but you never had to keep digging.

As for Annie, she’s still looking pretty dead inside of her house. She’s moved to a different corner that gives her a better look to see. It looks like she’ll doze off for a second before jerking upright, hand tightening around her sword. You saw her sleep last night, it was the whole reason why you and Finnick decided it was acceptable to leave the betting room in the first place. With the peace of mind of knowing that Annie was finally getting the rest she needed.

When you were at the bar, you didn’t really keep track of what was going on inside of the arena. Which, looking back on it, probably wasn’t a brilliant idea in the first place. If there was an emergency with Annie, knowing as soon as possible would’ve hypothetically saved her life. But you also just wanted one moment for yourself, with Finnick and a drink. It wasn’t much to ask for, and you’re sure that it was well-deserved. If it wasn’t, Annie would be dead in a ditch right now.

To some extent, she might as well be. While Sanguin is fueled with hate-fire right now--literally. Annie looks like her soul has been ripped out of her body. She’s pale, the previous kind girl light in her eyes is gone. She looks like a corpse, freshly pulled out of the coffin. You wish you’ve seen this before, because maybe that would make it easier to understand why she isn’t grieving like normal. Normally, tributes cry for hours, sometimes days until they have to pull it together to win. Annie is just… she’s completely lifeless. Actually, she looks like she’s given up with trying to survive inside of the arena. Which is a dangerous mindset to adapt, especially now.

Just two more tributes to burn through, all she has to do is hold on. Let Sanguin and Tekla fight it out, hope that one kills the other, and the one gets severely injured enough to bleed out and die. It would make the whole thing a lot easier on her, you know that. The last thing she’d probably need on her plate right now, is another death. She’s already got two genuinely impressive ones--taking out the male careers? You’re the only other person who has done that in the past five years. And she’s witnessed the death that would affect her, and it’s taking its toll already. It’s been two days.

Well, as long as Annie stays where she is, eats, drinks and sleeps when she needs to, she won’t have to worry about anything. However, this idea also goes for Sanguin, on the assumption that Tekla isn’t bold enough to go ahead and attack her uninvited. Sanguin’s also set for days--if she has extra food stored somewhere in the case of emergencies.

The only person that might get bored and start causing havoc is Tekla. She’s in the woods by herself, in a patch of grass unguarded by trees. She lays in the sun with her eyes closed, hands laced behind her head. Looking exactly like she did on the first couple of days inside of the arena. This time, she has a good reason to be carefree. Before, she had more than ten other tributes to worry about, all fighting to go home. Now it’s down to two others. It should be a walk in the park, if it weren’t for the fact that she’s being put up against two careers.

You wonder what her odds look like right now. They hadn’t changed last night, not even after she killed Seven boy. But now that it officially looks like she’s going to make it to one of the final fights and be crowned victor, she’s gotta have moved up. District Nine hasn’t had a victor in a long, long time. Their last one was a guy, and he’s the first male to be put into the mentor spot. If you remember correctly, there’s only five victors in Nine, which means that four of them are female.

Figures that their new potential victor would be a girl, right?

It looks like you don’t really have anything to worry about arena-wise. Really, if you wanted to, you could just stay inside of the apartment. With half-alive Annie, vengeful Sanguin and cheerful Tekla, it’s safe to say that today’s a free day. Things could change, but that’s just your prediction. The only reason you’d have to go down to the betting room is to show up for Gloss, but he doesn’t really matter, does he? You can just go and see him tomorrow.

“You’ve got a look on your face.” Finnick says, your eyes find him to see that he’s staring.

“So?” you stab a strawberry and place it in your mouth, resisting the momentary sour expression before the sweetness takes over.

“It’s your indecisive look.”

Now, your face twists, “I do not have an indecisive look--”

He laughs, “It’s unmistakable! You get the look when you’re thinking over something important.”

“Like a decision?” you ask, trying to be serious, but you end up laughing.

He seems to let it go for a moment, until he’s looking at you again, “What was it?”

You shrug, “I was just thinking that we wouldn’t have to go down to the betting room if we didn’t want to. The silence in the arena gives us a couple of liberties that we wouldn’t have on a normal day.”

“Oh, so you do have a relaxed side.” Finnick thoroughly enjoys the face you make, raising your fist as a threat to punch him in the arm again. You wonder how far he can push you before you finally give him a nasty bruise, “And you also woke me up for nothing.”

“Technically you woke yourself, I just spoke.” you shrug, “Can I get some more coffee?”

“Might as well go back to bed while I can, then.” Finnick says, but he doesn’t move from where he’s sitting.

You wait, receive your coffee, and let him stare at you for a little while, “What are you waiting for?”

“It wouldn’t be responsible--” he mocks the word in your voice, “--to go back to bed, wouldn’t it?”

You glare, “Finnick, you have the night shift, anyway. Stay awake, go back to bed, get drunk at The Victory Speech, have dinner with Gloss, I don’t give a shit.”

“You seem like you want me to go away.” he says, “I think I’ll stick with you, then.”

“Fine by me.” you scoop up your coffee mug, taking it with you when you go downstairs to sit on the couch. You pull out a coaster to not ruin the pristine glass table.

There’s not much to watch the tributes do at all. Sanguin roasts her food, and you think she ends up daydreaming some, because she burns the bottom side of the meat. Doesn’t even wrinkle her nose or look fazed when she bites straight into that part, even when it disintegrates in her mouth the more she chews. After she’s done eating, she moves to the back of the cornucopia, hiding behind a stack of boxes to take a nap.

Annie turns her knife over in her hand, spinning it between her fingers before she knicks herself one too many times. After that, she settles for pulling out a line of rope from her backpack, tying and untying knots. It’s a common hobby that people use to soothe anxiety and pass time when there’s nothing else to do. Doesn’t surprise you that she’s resorted to this. Although, you do begin to worry slightly when you watch her jump at the slightest of sounds and nearly get up every single time to check.

You’d say it’s a reasonable response, thinking that Sanguin is after her. But the house creaks the same way every time, lets out the same groan each time the wind blows too hard. It’s not like they’re new sounds. She should’ve picked up on this by now, realized that there’s no need to get ready to hurry into battle. Watching her grab her knife, lean forward, and listen for any other sounds over and over begins to make you feel antsy.

“There’s something wrong with Annie.” Finnick says.

You hum, “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you think it is?”

You shake your head, “Still working on that idea.”

“Anything you’ve seen before?”

“If I have, I don’t remember.” You lean back into the couch, “Let’s just wait and see how bad it gets.”

And the truth is, it gets worse, because it can always get worse. The good news is that you’ve figured out how to help her, on top of figuring out the problem in the first place. The bad news is that it requires a sponsor. And like you said earlier, all the prices have gone up. Getting one now would be a nightmare, but you have to try anyway.

As you go down to the betting room with Finnick, you think it over.

Annie is suffering from paranoia. She’s obviously shell-shocked from watching Marsh die, otherwise she would be acting normally. You guess that allowing two tributes that have known each other for a handful of years, go inside of the arena together wasn’t the brightest idea. But it’s not like you could control it. You don’t think that they even planned for it to happen, it was just a coincidence.

This is just one part of the problem, watching Marsh die. She also might be feeling guilty because she didn’t try harder to keep him from going. It makes the most sense. She tried to convince him to stay, but the second he showed resistance, she caved and followed. Guilt like this will haunt someone forever. If she wins, she’ll be stuck with thinking that Marsh could’ve gone a better way.

You know this, because you carry around a considerable amount of guilt, too.

The last part, concerning Annie, is the fact that she hasn’t slept in a while. Paranoia feeds off insomnia. Getting an hour or two of sleep after watching your friend die right in front of you, in arguably one of the worst ways possible, is an unfortunate series of events. She can’t prevent not being able to sleep, so you’ll just help her as best as you can.

When you presented all of this to Finnick, he agreed. Said that he was thinking something along the lines of what you are. The only hiccup that he’s worried about is finding sponsors wealthy enough to sponsor this late into the games. They also have to be betting on her too, so that if she does win, they’ll get the return in full.

The betting room seems slightly busier than usual. Like you predicted earlier, Gloss decided to go ahead and take company in the Capitol people. Tekla’s mentor seems busy off in the corner, with people that don’t look like they nearly have enough money to sponsor this late in the game. It wouldn’t be any use trying to steal them, just a waste of time.

Gloss knows people, but that would mean to interrupt what he’s doing right now, which seems fairly important. The group of people that Finnick had approved of is thin, pooling their money together wouldn't even buy a loaf of bread. Much less what you’re thinking about right now.

It only leaves a couple of people, ones you haven’t talked to in days. You stop a couple of steps inside of the room, allowing Finnick to come in and shut the door behind him. He waits there for a moment, before coming around the side.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice is slightly hushed. No one has really taken notice of your appearance just yet. If needed, you could probably slip out the door and no one would know the difference.

You look at him.

You made an agreement, take his advice on who to be around and who to stay away from, and he’ll help you. You thought that it would be easy then, because you didn’t need the sponsors. Annie and Marsh had a strategy down, they didn’t look like they’d be needed help anytime soon. They had everything they needed at the moment. But now that Annie needs something more, you’re stuck.

Having Finnick around to be a second body, a second pair of hands and eyes and ears, has made a difference. You’ve slept well, you’ve been allowed to hang out with friends when given the opportunity, and you can finally pace yourself. No more running around like it’s life or death, or being afraid to sleep because an arena is particularly dangerous.

However, you can do it alone. Annie’s needs right now is going to come before whatever requirements Finnick has. Bringing a tribute home is crucial, buddying with Finnick is a perk. If he gets mad at you for this, there's always next year.

“I need you to come with me and not intervene, or go back upstairs.” You say, squeezing the finger your ring is on.

His face twists, “It depends—“

“No. You go upstairs, or you don’t intervene.” You start towards the sponsors, “I mean it, Finnick.”

You’re not even halfway across the room before they spot you. You smile at them, letting them welcome you. When you don’t feel Finnick’s presence behind you like normal, you turn to look. The door is sweeping shut, you briefly catch a glimpse of him leaving.

The sponsors are happy to see you again, you talk with them for a while, and watch what goes on inside of the arena. It’s all small talk, or questions about what you feel like is going to happen. Until they finally bring up Annie, how she’s doing. And just because you can’t hold it in, you spill it all out, being completely honest with them.

Annie is hurting right now, and she can’t help it. She can’t simply fall asleep because she’s afraid of the nightmares and the vulnerability that comes with it. There’s always the possibility that her body simply isn’t letting her sleep, too. She’s not physically tired, so why would she lay down and try? So, you think that if you find something that’ll make her drowsy, she’ll feel more inclined to.

You can’t guarantee that it’ll work, but it’s worth a try if it means that she wins the games, right? The sponsors seem to think so, and with a budget, you bring them over to the sponsoring table. Everything under the sun is allowed to be sent to them. Name it, and thye’re probably have it. It’s just the price that makes it impossible to work around.

You know for sure that pills are out of the question. The second you see the price, you’re switching gears. Medicine? Maybe. You look at all the options they have for tributes for when they’re sick. You’ve seen a handful of these brands in District Four, all of them expensive. With the money that the Capitol gives you, you can finally afford them. Which means that Alyssum doesn’t have to suffer through colds like before. The medicine works wonders, but the Capitol version will be too much for her to handle. It might as well be a tranquilizer.

Something more natural, then. Those are always cheaper. You go through it, seeing the little vials of brightly colored liquids and the contents. Ones to make you throw up, give adrenaline if the tribute is dying, allergy medicine to save them from anaphylactic shock. And finally, one for sleeping. Without a moment of hesitance, you tap on it.

They all pitch in a certain amount, allowing the vial to be covered in full. You thank them, with assurance that it won’t go to waste. Annie is a tough tribute, she’ll be able to win. All she needs is a little sleep to reset her body, hopefully start her over. It’s like shutting something completely off before trying again.

You take a breath before writing on the paper, ‘Drink it all’.

You get to stand back and watch as the gamemakers find the best way to send it to her. You don’t doubt that she’ll hear the noise that the gifts make. Especially if she’s hearing noises that aren’t being picked up on the microphones. It’s where they have to drop it off to make sure it doesn’t get caught on anything on the way down, like a corner of a roof.

The chiming is a sound that you still hear in your nightmares. You watch as the silver parachute glides through the air, slowly moving between the houses. At first, it doesn’t seem to alarm Annie, but then she jolts, pauses to make sure she’s hearing it right, and then gets up. She shoves her knife into her belt, carefully goes down the stairs so that it doesn’t break beneath her.

She looks more alive like this, the color has returned to her face slightly, she’s got a smile hinting at the corner of her lips. When she finally comes out of the house, swinging the door open and letting in the natural light, she cries out in shock and covers her eyes. She mutters out a few curse words, squinting through the sun until her eyes adjust.

She spots the gift in the middle of the walkway. The smile grows more, scooping the tin into her hand. She gives the area around her a little look-around before disappearing back into the house, shutting the door and locking it. Even though it looks like the lock won’t do much for her anymore. The doorknob is practically falling off.

She makes it all the way to the third floor, back into the corner of her room. She slips down the wall and pops open the lid of the container. The first thing that Annie sees inside is the note, which she reads over carefully before moving it out of the way for the vial. It’s small, not at all as big as they normally sell them earlier on, but those ones also have the tendency to knock a person out for a whole day. This will just keep her asleep for a few hours, maybe the entire night if she drinks it now. You hope that she’ll be up at a reasonable time tomorrow.

Annie uncaps it carefully, and takes a small sniff. You can’t imagine that she recognizes the smell, even though it is sort-of distinct. If the medicine is fresh, it’ll usually smell sweet. If it’s not, then it’s stale, maybe a little sour. Obviously, one is more desirable than the other, but it works the same either way. Whether or not it’s fresh doesn’t affect the way it works.

When Annie is satisfied with the smell, she goes ahead and caps it again. There’s no directions, so she’s going to have to decide how she wants to do this. The sun will be setting in an hour, maybe two. Annie eats some dry foods, drinks some water. It’s smart, her wanting to get food into her body beforehand. If it were you, you probably would’ve just settled for drinking it straight, it might have worked faster that way.

She drinks it, slipping to the floor. She pulls the sleeping bag over herself, closing her eyes. It’s going to take a second to kick in, but it’s enough time for you to go upstairs and out of the betting room. You’ll be back down here bright and early tomorrow, there’s no point spending more time than you have to.

You thank the sponsors, shake hands and exchange hugs. Before you leave the room, you see that the Afternoon Line Odds are all the same. Sanguin’s is 2-1, Annie is 3-1, Tekla is 7-1. All very good odds, but not as good as Sanguin. Hopefully, that’ll change within the next couple of days. You leave the room before Gloss can see that you’re down there.

You spent a good hour or so just talking to the sponsors. The fastest part was getting them to agree on sending Annie a gift. It wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Finnick makes all of them out to be like criminals, constantly looking for their next fix. But they understand that you’re not like that. They can have their eyes on you all they want, it’s not going to happen.

Just before you go inside of the apartment, you’re sure that Finnick isn’t going to be out in the living room, or he’s not going to be inside of the apartment all together. However, when you step inside, you’re surprised to see that he’s on the couch, his arms crossed. He doesn’t bother to look over, not even after you shut the door. You almost feel guilty for doing what you did.

Almost.

You sit on the couch next to him, pull your legs up beneath you, and sit in silence. There’s no point to try and talk to him right now. You know that he’d probably like a moment to cool off. It might even be better if you didn’t sit in here at all, so he won’t be fuming next to you. But it’s not like you have much of a choice. You can’t just go back downstairs and sit in the betting room, that would be stupid. If Finnick’s right about the sponsors, there’s no reason to stay around them more than you have to.

So, silence it is. It’s a while before either of you have anything to talk about. Annie should be asleep by now, an entire hour later. There’s no way that the vial would take more than five minutes, even with a full stomach. Still, you watch as her eyes open, a frown appearing on her face, eyebrows turning in.

Your mouth falls open, you stand from the couch, “That’s not good.”

“What did you give her in the first place?” Finnick asks.

“It’s one of those natural sleeping medicines, the expensive ones?” you briefly look at him, before you go back to the tv, “Costed a fortune, so it should’ve worked. The gamemakers wouldn’t send a dud, right?”

“Probably not.”

You sit back down onto the couch, hands falling into your lap. You made sure that it was the sleeping medicine, and not the sick stuff either. The only other option that was left for Annie besides this, was the herbal tea. And that shit hardly ever works for you, or your siblings when you use it back home. The most the tea would do anyway, is make her drowsy, not even a guarantee.

It’s a good thing that you didn’t even consider the tea, because if the vial did nothing, Annie would be able to drink the entire box of tea and still not feel a single thing. The medicine was a waste of money, and who knows what it’s going to do to her. Make her even more delirious than she already is? Like she, or you guys, need that at all. You were already worried over her paranoia, now you’ve got to be worried about her accidentally killing herself?

There’s nothing you can do about it now. You’ve just got to sit back and wait to see if it kicks in, after all. There’s no point in going downstairs to tell the sponsors it was some sort of mistake, because you really didn’t know that this was going to happen. If you did, you probably wouldn’t have bothered in the first place. Everything is worth a try until it’s wasting resources. You might have been able to use the sponsor money later on.

Still, you have to sit and painfully watch as Annie progressively gets worse. Turns out, that if you don’t fall asleep with the medicine, it starts to work as a hallucinogenic. On top of Annie’s paranoia, she’s not hallucinating she’s hearing noises, and maybe even seeing things. You close your eyes and rest them against your palms when you lean forward, not really liking to hear Annie go through it.

It’s stupid. You’re not even sure how Annie’s resisting the drug, anyway. She’s not doing it on purpose, she clearly recognized the smell if she laid down immediately after. And it’s not like they had any sort of drugs available for hallucinations. No mentor would willingly give their tributes something like that, so why would it be offered?

No matter what happens, though, you’re glad to see that Annie doesn’t leave the house. She stays where she is, clutching onto her knife, staring into space. She’s just like how she was before you sent her the sponsor gift. Only this time around, she’ll randomly jump as if there’s been a loud sound, and then her eyes will follow things in front of her, even when there’s nothing there.

Elysia comes into the apartment around the same time you guys normally eat dinner, a little out of breath, “Oh, there you guys are!”

You look over your shoulder to see that she’s dressed in lime green and black. The black helps accentuate the green part, which you’re not really sure is a good thing. You’re sure that everyone can see her coming from a mile away, literally.

“You were looking for us?” you ask, she nods, heading over to you and Finnick.

“In the betting room, I thought you’d be down there since you normally are.”

Figures that the one time you wouldn’t be down there, she’d go, “Looked like there wasn’t much going on today so I thought we could stay up here. I only went down there to send the gift.”

“I saw that.” she says, “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You three do it over dinner. With Elysia hardly eating and doing most of the talking, Finnick watching the tv and only chiming in when he’s needed, and you trying to do all three at the same time. It’s easy for the most part. Remember when you said that you got good at multitasking? This is an example of that.

She mostly tells you what you already figured out, which is that it turns out to be a hallucinogenic after a while. It should wear off, but it’ll take hours to do. Like, for the amount of time she should have been asleep for. She’s already got a couple of hours under her belt, you’d say that by tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to normal. So, there’s no reason to sit around and wait.

You and Finnick can get a full night of sleep for once. You just have to get up early tomorrow morning to assess the damage. You’re sure that it’ll be fairly easy to do, you’ll have to get yourself into the habit of waking up early again, anyway. You’ve got the boarding school to worry about. Anchor won’t want to do it alone forever.

Before you give it up tonight, you check the tv one last time. Annie is in her room, so she’s fine. Sanguin looks like she’s officially laying down to sleep, her weapons are displayed around her, all ready to be picked up and used at any time. As for Tekla, she’s made a bed in her little clearing in the trees. However, she’s bold, with a fire going that is distinguishable in the dark. She’s lucky that the back of the cornucopia is turned towards her, otherwise Sanguin would be more than tempted to take Tekla out.

You head back to your room after dinner, mainly to brush your teeth. You pace in your room for a moment, caught in the decision of whether or not to talk to Finnick or to leave him to be angry on his own. You’re sure that he’d appreciate being by himself, but there’s also this morning and last night to talk about. You can’t really just leave those alone, who knows what kinds of problems they’ll cause in the future.

“Okay.” you sigh, heading out of your room and to his. You knock on his door, waiting a second, “Finnick?”

It’s a couple more beats of silence, “Yeah?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

You open the door to see that Finnick is sitting on the corner of the bed. He looks up when you step inside, you shut it behind you, and lean against the door, “I’m sorry about earlier. I know we had an agreement, but the sponsors were at my disposal. I decided that I might as well, because I was sure that it would work.”

“And it should’ve.” Finnick mutters, “I would just like it if you wouldn’t go and do it again.”

“Yeah, I won’t. I don’t even have the options for it.” you laugh slightly, he cracks a smile, “You should probably know that I prioritize my mentoring job over everything else. If it’s the needs of the tributes versus you, I’m going to pick the tributes every time.”

“I know, you don’t have to be sorry for it.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t.” you grin.

Finnick rolls his eyes, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

“You can probably guess what it is.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the horribly covered up hickeys, would it?” He’s cheeky now.

“Maybe.” you give him a soft smile, “I’d just like to know what we’re doing, and if we’re going to continue on with it.”

Finnick makes a face, “This is going to sound like shit, but I’ll go with what you want.”

“You’re right, it does sound like shit.” he laughs first, and then you join in, “The thing is, Finnick, is that I don’t have a problem with it. But the last time I checked, you were the one that told me that we weren’t good together. So are you sure that you’ll go with what I want, or are you going to break up with me in a couple of months after you realize it again?”

Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “I deserve that.”

“It wasn’t an explanation, Finnick. In fact, it made things worse when we were just fine on the train, and then you come back from seeing Snow and--!” you’re shaking your head, giving yourself a moment before you start speaking again, “and suddenly I was supposed to know that we weren’t together anymore.”

“But you know why now, right?” Finnick asks.

“Parts of it.” you rub on the ring, “I know that it was because of Snow and the sex work. He made you break up with me to make you more available to the Capitol, right?”

“No, I actually made that decision myself.” he says.

You raise your eyebrows.

Finnick stares, tilts his head for a moment like he’s unsure, “There’s more to it.”

You wait, thinking that he’s just going to give up the information, but he doesn’t, “Okay…?”

“I don’t want to make you feel guilty.”

“Then why’d you say anything at all?”

He laughs, “To not make me look like an asshole.”

You snort.

“Alright well,” Finnick pauses, “President Snow had me taken to his mansion after the train, you know this. He told me that it’s not uncommon for victors to be well received by the Capitol, but I was different because I was handsome or whatever,” his face twists, “And since I was sixteen, I was finally eligible since it’s more morally correct to sell a teen into sex slavery when they’re sixteen and not fourteen.

“Snow said that I didn’t have a choice. I had to get into it or…” Finnick shakes his head, “There wasn’t even an or at the time. He just said that it was something I had to do, and I told him no, because I was finally feeling better and I had you. Then he urged me to say yes, didn’t even tell me that there would be consequences, so I told him no again….”

He’s angry, “And he fucking killed my entire family, gave the order right in front of me. I thought he was kidding, like it was some sort of sick joke until I had to fucking listen to it.” Finnick looks at you, “He didn’t even flinch when the screaming started, or when my brother started crying. I didn’t even know what to do. And after it was over he told me that the next person he’d kill next would likely be you, or your family if he could get to them. Or worse, sell your body too.”

You can feel the blood drain from your face.

“And I didn’t want that to happen, so I said yes. And then I broke up with you because I hoped that it would make the decision a whole lot easier but I think…” he grits his teeth, “I know it would’ve been easier with you to support me.”

No words form in your mouth, you stand in silence as you try to absorb the information.

“I’m…” your eyebrows draw in, “...selfish.”

“No.” Finnick says, “You’re not. You didn’t know, how were you supposed to? I told you nothing, I wanted a clean cut but it turned out to be messy, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, Finnick?” you look at him, “I’ve been giving you a hard time--why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you come around later?”

“Because you moved on, like you should’ve.”

“I didn’t!” you laugh, moving forward, “Finnick, I hardly spoke to anyone after the year we broke up. My brothers fucking hated you for that entire year because of it. It took forever to convince them otherwise. The entire time, I was hoping that you were going to come around and tell me that it was some stupid prank. I would’ve forgiven you!”

He gives you a smile, “It’s better that I didn’t.”

You give him a look, and then sit on the hammock, “I guess that explains a lot.”

“You guess?” He laughs, “That’s it?”

“There’s not much to say, Finnick.” you shrug, “You said you didn’t want to make me feel guilty and I do anyway.”

“I didn’t have a choice. If you want, you could thank me for saying yes.”

You stare at him, he develops a cheeky smile, “Come on, that was mildly funny.”

“Mildly is the key word.”

The two of you sit in silence for a second, and then you dip your head, “I would be willing to give it another try, if you are.”

“Yeah.”

He’s got a grin on his face, like you just told him he’s getting a car for christmas.

“My brother’s will have to warm up to you again.” you warn him.

“Okay! They liked me before, right? What’s one more time?”

“They hardly give out second chances so you’ll have to consider yourself lucky.”

Finnick softly smiles, “I already am.”

A sharp pain in your chest wakes you in the morning. Your eyes shoot open, sitting upright in bed. It spreads immediately, like your heart is pumping it out; the source of the problem. You try and take a deep breath, hoping that you’ll get your mind off of it, but it makes the pain worse. Mid-breath, you stop, and exhale too deeply, causing another shock to go through you.

A groan leaves your lips, tears appearing in your eyes. You carefully get out of bed, wanting to be on your feet, hoping that laying down was the problem. You make no sudden moves, allowing the blood to make its way to your feet as you pace the room. With your palm, you rub small circles around your chest, which seems to relieve some of the pressure.

The clock on the stand reads eight in the morning, four hours before you actually have to get up and get ready for the day. You have a feeling that if you go and lie back down now, right when the pain is beginning to subside, you’re only going to make it worse. Plus, you don’t think that you’ll be able to fall back asleep, not with the adrenaline running through your body.

You take deep breaths when it doesn’t hurt, starting to feel dizzy from the self-hyperventilation. In no time, the pain is almost completely gone, only lingering in aches every now and then. You stand around for a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise high enough to finally come through the window before deciding that you might as well get ready.

The Tribute Center seems to have found its happy medium between too hot and too cold, as last night it was like existing in a frozen tundra. You’re lucky that the blanket they provide retains heat, otherwise you would’ve been bundled up a lot more than you were. Because of this, you think that you can settle for a lukewarm shower.

You lock your bedroom door before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower runs in the background as you undress, throwing all the dirty clothes by the door. You look over the tattoo on your collarbone, which is practically done healing by now. With the cream that the tattoo artist gave you, it doesn’t take weeks to heal like it does in the districts. As for the one on the back of your neck, it looks like it was done yesterday, when really it was years ago.

When you step inside the shower, you allow the water to run through your hair. You might as well wash it today. The shampoo you use smells like straight sugar, same goes for the conditioner. The bottle says it’s good for your hair, but the list of chemicals on the back is seriously concerning. The bathroom provides a matching body wash that smells exactly like the shampoo. You know for a fact that you saw a body lotion in one of the drawers, a part of you wonders if that’ll be overkill.

You turn the shower off and let the machines dry your body and hair. You decide to use the body lotion anyway, and by the time you realize that it’s glittery, it’s too late. You stare at your hands for a couple of minutes in shame, watching the white shimmer in the light. However, when it’s completely spread over your body and dried, it doesn’t transfer onto your surroundings, so that’s a good sign.

You brush your teeth while manually putting your hair together. You go for half-up, half-down since it’ll keep most of the hair out of your face. In the end, you still pull out a few strands to make sure that your face isn’t bland. Before you can do anything else, you have to get dressed.

The dresser holds plenty of skirts to work with, which you’re not opposed to. You sift through them, figuring that white will be fine. When you hold it up to your hip, you see that the skirt ends above the knee, so Finnick won’t have a reason to freak out. As for the shirt, you settle for a light pink, scoop neck bodysuit, with white underwear. When you finally get the entire outfit put together, you look at yourself in the mirror.

You’re very pretty today. The skirt doesn’t ride up too bad, even when you move quickly. The bodysuit prevents anything serious from showing, just in case the skirt does find a way to get stuck, or you spin too fast. You apply mascara, pull on white slip-on tennis shoes and the ring. Needless to say, you’re looking extremely girly today.

The clock says it’s reaching nine, you’d say that breakfast will take thirty, and then you can meet Finnick in the betting room at ten. So, you go out to the dining room to see that Elysia is nowhere to be seen. You refuse to believe that she left before you got up, she has to be sleeping in. Normal Capitol people stay up late and rise at noon. But then again, Elysia is an escort and she’s far from normal sometimes.

An avox turns on the tv, so you sit down at the table and wait as they serve brunch in front of you. It’s hashbrowns, steak, and a bowl of assorted fruit. You pick through your food, not super hungry and in the mood for all of it. Nevertheless, you’re sure to thank the avox that serves it to you, and continues to come back around to give you orange juice and coffee.

The arena screen is split into three, which isn’t new. It was like this last night, since there aren't many tributes to focus on at the moment. If there’s only three, you might as well show all of them and what they’re doing. At least one of them has to be doing something mildly interesting.

Tekla is still in her small clearing in the trees, which is fairly close to the dam, now that the gamemakers have marked it on the map. It’s a beautiful place to rest, you’d even picnic there if you had the opportunity. It’s not a good spot, though. It’s too close to the dam, too easy to kill her if and when it breaks. Still, she lays on her back, eyes closed. You can’t tell if she’s awake or not, but you’re going to guess that she is, judging by how her hands are intertwined over her stomach.

If she were sleeping, she’d probably be more annoyed by the sun. Instead, she’s directly under it, which might actually end up giving her a sunburn if she isn’t careful. That’ll be miserable to work with inside of the arena. You can’t even do anything to remedy the burn this far in, except for natural leaves and plants. You can’t think of any off the top of your head that you’ve seen so far.

Sanguin is in the cornucopia, she’s awake and stretching. She doesn’t look tired, despite the fact that it’s obvious that she just got up. Judging by her ratty blonde hair and the way her face twists each time she leans over. She stands up straight, and then grins slightly, turning around and going back inside. She combs through her hair with her fingers and sits on the edge of a box, sword right next to her. Maybe she’s planning on going out hunting today? You hope she doesn’t actually think she’ll get anything out of the village.

Especially with how awful Annie is looking. She’s got her arms wrapped around her body, knees pulled to her chest. The good news is that she looks to be asleep, mouth slightly open, leaned up against the connecting wall in the corner. But she’s got deep purple bags beneath her eyes, she’s only recently fallen asleep. You wonder how long it’ll last before she’s jolting awake.

It’s good that she’s sleeping, with no thanks to the medicine that you sent her. It probably drove her insane into early this morning, like you said would happen last night. You’d say that it’s a good thing, but with the way that Sanguin keeps looking to the village, it’s not. Annie needs to get up and be ready for a fight. Unfortunately, there’s no way you can warn her of this. You’re all out of options.

You finish your food, thank the avoxes, and leave for the betting room. There’s not a lot going on right now, it’s early morning. Everything big that happens in the arena is normally dedicated towards the afternoon to the evening, for the gamemakers at least. As for the tributes, they’re welcome to make and wreak havoc as they please, when they see fit.

The betting room is quiet and empty when you get down there. Finnick and Gloss are sitting by each other on the couch. You hold the doorknob on the door, carefully setting it against the doorframe so that they won’t hear you. If they thought that you scaring them was bad when they were semi-expecting you, it’s going to be worse when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

You stand behind them for a moment, squinting down at them, wondering if they have the same sixth sense that you do when people are standing over you. Your question is answered when Finnick barely glances over his shoulder, and then jumps three feet in the air when he realizes that they’re not alone. Gloss has the same moment, inhaling sharply.

A laugh erupts from you as you go around the couch to sit on the arm next to Finnick, “You two are too easy.”

“You’re like a fucking ghost, I didn’t even hear you come in.” Gloss says.

“That was on purpose.” you cross a leg beneath your thigh, “Woke up early by accident, thought that it wouldn’t hurt to come down and keep you two company for a little while.”

“Well, the afternoon schedule was nice while it lasted.” Finnick mutters.

Your face twists, you look down at him, “You’re a bad liar. There’s no way you like waking up at midnight and going to bed at noon.”

Finnick tilts his head for a moment, making a face, “I mean…”

You slap the side of his head before he can say anything else, “You don’t have to prove you’re a teenage boy.”

The Morning Line Odds say that everyone is still at where they were yesterday, so there’s no need to take in new information. You’re really just left to sit and wait for anything important to happen inside of the arena. In the meantime, you talk to Finnick and Gloss about the unusual silence. With your guys’ luck, it’s not going to last very long. There’s no way that the gamemakers will allow two normal days in a row.

However, today’s the ninth day of the games. You’re sure they’re going to want to keep it going on for a little while longer, so maybe they will allow fate to be in the tribute’s hands. In that case, you all might as well buckle up for a long day, because it’s going to take hours for Sanguin to make it to Annie, with the pace she’s going right now.

It’s almost ten in the morning when people begin showing up inside of the betting room. All brightly dressed, and particularly chatty this morning. This is when you decide to officially sit between Finnick and Gloss, not wanting the sponsors to see that you’re in a skirt today. Finnick seems happy, which is all that matters.

Unfortunately, Annie wakes up. She jolts, eyes flying open as she reaches for her knife. She gets to her feet without a word, carefully making her way across the bedroom to the window, where she rubs it down to look outside of it. Her eyebrows are drawn together, staring straight at the dam.

She seems satisfied for a second, gently nodding to herself. She goes to move away, until Sanguin comes into clear view. For half a second, you think to yourself that it’s a good thing that Annie is paranoid, because she just spotted the threat she’s been waiting for. After that, Annie scoops up all of her belongings, not leaving a single trace that she was there, besides the now-clean window.

She carefully goes down the steps, making it to the base floor without falling through the floorboards. Outside, she takes a deep breath, shuts the door and tries to jam some rocks beneath the door to make it harder to open. She tiptoes in grass to make sure that there’s no footprints, makes it a few houses over before she even considers walking through the dirt again.

None of it matters in the end.

A thunderous crack echoes throughout the arena so loudly that it breaks the microphones and makes several people scream out in surprise. You all watch in deafening silence as the dam continues to crack, and water begins to spurt out in large streams.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Today is the day.

You stand from the couch, moving a few feet forward to see better. Finnick and Gloss join you, not a single word passes between you three as you watch in awe. If such small cracks are already sprouting in streams big enough to create rivers, then how will the rest of the water fare? You have no choice but to wait and watch.

The screen is now in four, with one long screen on top completely dedicated to the dam, and three bottom squares for the tributes.

Tekla is on her feet, already rushing down the hill. She’s got no weapons on her hand, no backpack to weigh her down. She’s left it all behind in her peaceful circle in the woods. She whips through bushes, swings around trees, barely makes it over root and rocks on her way down. She’s freaked, struggling to keep her hair out of her face, constantly tucking it behind her ears.

Her feet look like they have a mind of their own, though. With the way that she goes down, it’s almost like she’s dancing, how flowery it is. However, her panic isn’t easily masked. She’s obviously shaking, and sometimes she’ll fuck up and have to catch herself before it’s too late.

Sanguin is standing on top of the hill, everything still on her as she stares at the water making its way towards her. Her eyebrows are pushed together, trying to assess the situation and if it’s worth worrying over. The answer is yes, because it’s only a matter of time before the rest of the concrete blows, and she’s left with a real problem. She slowly turns her back to it, picking up her pace, jogging through the grass. She’s still carrying all of herself.

And finally, Annie is also running through the buildings, just as panicked as Tekla is. The only thing that Annie has is her knife, clutched with white knuckles. She’s as white as a sheet too, breathing heavily through her mouth. You can empathize with her, even if she’s a while away, she knows that she can still be reached.

Another large crack sounds, Tekla slaps her hands over her ears and risks a glance behind her. There’s a jagged horizontal crack that runs from the right side to the left. It’s a matter of time before it goes. The concrete is spider-webbing, developing into a worse problem. Tekla tries to quicken her pace, but there’s only so fast you can go downhill before you risk hurting yourself.

Sanguin has dropped her things, running as fast as she did to catch up with Bauhinia. Her feet slam into the ground, and launch her forward another couple of feet before she’s connecting with the dirt again. She makes it across the second lower clearing, going uphill again. Those hills are going to be an absolute killer when it comes to the water.

The gamemakers are evil. It’s been exactly nine days, ten minutes and forty seconds since the tributes got inside of the arena. You said a week and a half? It hasn’t even been that. They’re in a hurry to get the big event over before one tribute can kill another. Why? Because it’s more fun cheering on the running tributes than watching them kill each other. It’s like betting on a running horse, who’s going to make it to the finish line first?

Annie stops, taking in deep breaths as she watches the dam through a row of trees. She’s able to watch as the final crack breaks the dam open like an egg. Concrete and debris go flying into the trees as the water creates a nasty flattening path through the woods. Almost every tree that the front water initially hits, is uprooted and brought with.

Tekla’s scream is piercing, lasting a couple of seconds before she’s completely cut off. She doesn’t die immediately, you’re able to watch as the water brings her along. She’s suspended in the middle, legs kicking, hands wrapped around her throat. She has half the mind to hold her breath, so that’s good news. The bad is that she’s a quarter mile underwater. There’s no way she’ll make it to the surface in time, if she did know how to swim.

You think you’ll have to watch her drown when she runs out of air, but an entire tree branch goes straight through her back and out the middle of her chest. Bubbles erupt around her face, hands grabbing the wood just before the cannon sounds. One down, three to go.

Sanguin has one more hill to make it up before she’s in the village. Her arms are pumping, face a bright red, her glances over her shoulder are quick and spared. She doesn’t do it often because it slows her down, it’s a brief check to see how far ahead she is in front of the water. And the truth is that it’s catching up on her. Just like you said, the hills are a nightmare.

Not only because she has to run up them, which tires her out more. But because the water gains momentum and unpredictability with every hill it surges over. The water doesn't seem to endlessly pour out of the dam, though. It seems like the gamemakers had a prepared forcefield. They just wanted to let out a controlled amount of water. Big enough to kill a couple of tributes before it thinned out and became a minimal threat.

Sanguin starts uphill the same moment the water hits the hill just behind her. Down it goes for a couple of seconds, before it’s surging above her in a giant wave. Sanguin makes it into the village, running beneath the roofs as if it’ll protect her from the water. She runs straight for a while, before starting to zig zag towards the corner.

She must realize that it’s not worth it, and that the diagonal running only slows her down, because she goes back to running straight, heading closer and closer to where Annie had been staying.

Speaking of which, Annie’s on the run again. You can tell that she’s keeping track of the height of the water. Even though the houses are decades old, they seem to be slowing down the water, since they’re all individually filling up inside. Sanguin doesn’t seem too focused on the fact, mostly wanting distance. She’s almost on the brink of losing it, though. Her steps are getting sloppier the more she goes.

Annie goes around a corner and into an alleyway, effectively blocking the water from her sight. It’s stupid, she’s not going to be able to keep track of it the same way she has. Sanguin has a point when it comes to running straight away from the water.

And then she starts climbing the walls. With how narrow the walkway is, she can scoot her way up little by little. It burns a lot of her time, and cranks up your anxiety, watching her do this. You know that she’s trying to get herself above the tide now. The houses where she’s at, are at least two stories tall each, not counting the roof.

Annie grabs the gutters, using her arms to pull her onto the red-orange shingles. You get a glimpse from where she’s at now to see that the water is lower, but she’ll still have to swim, even if she gets onto the high point of the roof. She takes one last look at her knife before she frisbee’s it to her right, making sure that it’s far away from her when the water does come.

Sanguin is losing ground. Soon, she’ll be stuck swimming too. It seems like that their times are lining up. Annie bends her knees, cracks her fingers, prepares her arms. Sanguin’s glances get more and more frequent, anticipating the moment the water hits her.

Annie dives straight in, letting the water welcome her. She doesn’t waste time, swimming straight to the top. Her face is serious, she has her eyes locked on the surface, kicking her legs hard, arm over head. While Sanguin holds her breath, fingers squeezing her nose shut, eyes following the structures in front of her. She narrowly misses the wall of the first house, before slamming right into the neck.

Just like with Tekla, there’s a large burst of bubbles. Sanguin struggles now, trying to swim to the top. She makes a few inches at a time, but it’s hardly noticeable, or comparable with how well Annie is doing. In fact, she’s reached the surface already, inhaling loudly.

The water directs Sanguin into a wall again, this time her head cracks against the wall. The water turns a light shade around her head, and it’s minutes before the cannon finally sounds. Which signals the water to drain, lowering Annie onto a roof nearby.

Her dark hair is stuck to her face and neck, clothes completely drenched. Her mouth is slightly parted, breathing loudly.

You grab onto Finnick’s arm, “Oh my god.”

“Congratulations, guys.” Gloss has got a grin on his face, he slaps you on the back.

“She did it.” you say, “Annie’s done it!”

Claudius Templesmith’s, the announcer, voice comes over the arena, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the Seventieth Hunger Games, from District Four, Annie Cresta!”

Annie’s face drains of color again, before it’s bursting in red, “I win.” she murmurs at first, barely audible, before tears of relief are filling her eyes. Much louder, this time she screams; “I win!”

REDAMANCY IS PART 2 OF A TRILOGY //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@f1nal-g1rl / @starlight-selene / @neenieweenie / @amixedwitch / @accxio / @suranne-doesstuff

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #redamancy #redamancy chapter eight #finnick odair redamancy

56 notes · View notes

ivushk · 3 years

Note

HELLO. MAY I PLEASE HEAR MORE OF YOUR VAMPIRE AU…. 👉👈

OH MY GOD I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

Okay, SO. BUCKLE THE FUCKLE UP 'CUZ here's what I've got so far:

Nishiki and Kiryu are still orphans at Sunflower. They come from a tiny village just a few kilometres west from the orphanage. It's a very close and closed-off community. The boys' parents died in a fire when they were very little (which is a common theme for the kids at Sunflower and isn't that a crazy coincidence? *smiles mysteriously*), however the Nishikiyama family house wasn't as badly damaged as Kiryu's so it's just sitting there, waiting for its former residents to reclaim ownership as soon as they're able to (I imagine Kazama would help them with that).

In the next years it becomes a home for Nishiki, Yuko and Kiryu (and Yumi, too, though she feels like a visitor for the most part) in everything but name. It's their hangout spot, their "base of operations", their not-so-secret meeting place. When Yuko's health deteriorates so much that she can't stay at Sunflower anymore, the siblings actually properly move in to make arranging the doctor's visits easier.

It's Nishiki's 17th birthday and all three of them are celebrating and playing games and eating cake and having a good time at the edge of the woods not far from the Nishikiyama residence. They're young and loud and stupid (and ignoring the fact that several people went missing over the course of the last few months) and if Nishiki's heart beats a little too hard in his chest when Kiryu gives him his gift - a beautiful, heavy silver pendant on a slightly-worn leather cord - he doesn't think about it too much (and if he notices that Kiryu stares at him just a bit longer than usual without saying a single word but his gaze is so, so, SO fond-- he doesn't think about it either). (he leaves these kinds of thoughts for restless nights because thinking about his best friend in that way during the day... it hurts. the hurt is good sometimes but it's overwhelming).

They're drunk on the cheap beer they've smuggled from Gen-san's fridge and high on happiness. Unaware that the very same night it would all go crashing down.

At some point they all quiet down and go a little further into the woods than they normally would but no one pays any mind to that. And when suddenly their trio turns into a duo with the sudden absence of the birthday boy himself no one immediately starts panicking. He's been gone for ten minutes, twenty, half an hour. Kiryu tells Yuko to go back to the village, to gather everyone, make them start a search party or something while he keeps looking for her brother (the only things he'll find are the pendant he's gifted to Nishiki with the leather cord torn and the broken shards of his own hope). They never find him.

A year goes by and they hold a funeral for Nishikiyama Akira. Even though there's no body for them to bury. Yuko doesn't cry (she doesn't believe he's really dead). Neither does Kiryu (he used all of his tears up that night, the guilt choking him, and the night after that, and the night after that, and the night-). Yumi does, however. And the nice old lady who gave both Nishiki and Kiryu money for helping her do chores around the house. And the man who gave Nishikiyama a part-time job at his shop (to put at least something towards the cost of his sister's treatment, he felt so indebted to Kazama, and that debt weighed down on him). And a few of the girls and boys from Sunflower too.

Another two years pass. Kiryu moves away to the big city at the behest of Kazama. "It's important for you to continue your education," he says. ("It's important for you to move on," he keeps these words to himself). Kiryu really tries his best. Even makes a few friends (although he's still on the fence about whether he can actually call Oda his friend). It goes as well as it could have considering his circumstances. They say that time heals but Kazuma Kiryu never finds out if there's any truth to those words because he recieves a very short letter - an invitation, actually. To another funeral. But this time it's Yuko they're burying. This time they actually have a body to bury.

Tachibana offers his condolences. Oda offers him a ride to the village and back. Kiryu accepts both.

He can't help but compare this funeral to the last one he's been to. There are fewer people. Fewer tears, too. More flowers. It's quieter and feels something like closure (in truth, it's anything but). Yuko also left behind a will (more like a bunch of wishes since it wasn't an official document but the community decided to honour them anyway). Almost all of her possessions went to the kids from Sunflower, except for the Nishikiyama family house (which on paper actually belonged to Shintaro Kazama) which she left to Kiryu. He can't quite believe it when he hears it and feels his heart break under the onslaught of childhood memories. Still, he goes there later that evening. He finds that little has changed in the time he spent away from the house, from the village, from... all of this, really. There are the same pictures on the walls collecting only slightly less dust. The same books on the shelves and under the broken legs of the old pieces of furniture. The same medicine bottles and equipment in the bedroom, though doubled in quantity. Kiryu's not as devastated as he thought he'd be when he walks around what he used to call his home.

He goes through all the rooms, taking notes of every single thing he finds and every single thing he doesn't. He probably misses a bunch of things (he's not as good at that sort of thing, Nishiki's always had a much better eye for details). Once back outside, he looks for the secret stash they made back when they were teenagers. It's like going through a time capsule. There's a pack of cigarettes he and Nishiki once stole from the teacher's bag, copybooks filled with ugly doodles, dreams for the future and dried flowers and leaves, caps from soda bottles, rocks they thought looked cool, photos and birthday cards damaged by time and weather... the pendant Kiryu gave to Nishiki the last time they saw each other. And a small notebook Kiryu's never seen before. A diary of sorts, a recounting of their days together and their days apart. The handwriting is unmistakingly Yuko's.

It fills him with nostalgia, tears welling up in his eyes, unshed. His heart sinks when he finally reaches the pages where Yuko recounts the last few weeks before she-

She writes about her brother, which is understandable. What's less understandable is the fact that she speaks of him as though he was there, with her. Physically present. Kiryu could chalk it up to the girl being delusional in her dying moments but it doesn't feel right to do so. It's stupid, it's absolutely impossible, he's confused, he's hopeful, why would Yuko hide her notebook there?

The last page. A message. For Kiryu. "Please, Kazuma-kun, help my brother".

Against his better judgement, Kiryu decides to spend the night in the house. Sleep doesn't come to him but that's fine. He sits in the living room, trying to make sense of everything. He sits there until it's way past midnight, until the distant barking of the dogs quiets down, until the rustling of leaves stops, until the very air around him grows still and silent and somehow charged with strange energy. And then he hears it. Three uncertain taps against the window. Kiryu turns his head. It's him.

"Kiryu... Let me in. Please."

He does, without thinking. (He could never very well say no to Nishiki. Even if it got them both in trouble. Even if he's not real.)

The quiet is deafening. It really is him. His best friend (whom he thought dead). His kyoudai. Before Nishiki could say anything, Kiryu wraps him in a tight hug. The only heartbeat between them is Kiryu's own, thundering against his ribs. Nishikiyama doesn't let the hug last, putting some distance between them. He looks guilty, tired; looks at Kiryu with sadness, with longing and something else that he can't quite decipher yet (and it makes him scared but why?). Nishiki also looks older than Kiryu remembers. Not a 17-year-old boy anymore, no. About the same age that Kiryu is now.

Has his gaze always been so sharp? Have his fangs always been this pronounced?

They talk until their throats are hoarse. Until Nishiki pulls out a bottle with some liquid that smells strongly of iron and drinks from it and in that moment Kiryu believes everything his friend has told him. It's crazy, but he does.

Nishiki was abducted that night. Taken from them. By vampires. They hurt him. Forced him to fight other humans (just like him then) for his survival. They fed on him.

It went on and on and on... Days turned into weeks, turned into months, turned into years. Only thoughts of Yuko, and Kiryu, and Yumi kept him going. He wanted to see them again. He hoped he would. That hope was crushed when Nishikiyama met his match in the arena. No, not his match. Someone far stronger. He lost and was tossed out to die. But another vampire saved him. It was a woman, whose face he saw often among the spectators of his fights. She stood out from the crowd, since she never cheered for any of the humans. Never put any bets. Only looked at all that madness with quiet horror. "Reina" she said her name was.

She gave Nishiki blood. Her own blood, and the blood of the vampires that were much stronger and more powerful than her (but not wiser), and human blood.

He turned and it was even worse than the years of anguish he had experienced. The pain and constant thirst almost drove him mad until he was taught to deal with them.

Nishiki was given a second chance. He escaped. And ever since that moment he's been trying his damndest to help other victims of those monsters. Both, the poor imprisoned souls and the villagers who might have shared his fate otherwise.

THAT CONCLUDES MY MAD RAMBLINGS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT THAT WELL

also i don't remember the last time i wrote this much in one sitting and i'm tireeeeeed. i'm not cut out to be a writer and it shows nghghghhhhhh

but! but! but! i have a couple thoughts on where the story goes:

kiryu decides to stay in the village and help nishiki

they uncover the vampires evil plans and recruit a few other characters to fight on the side of JUSTICE (i.e. kazama, who up to that point has been kind of in cahoots with the vamps - hence trying to atone by means of creating the Sunflower orphanage; kashiwagi; yumi; reina; tachibana and oda; majima, and yeah he was actually the one that defeatead nishiki and unknowingly caused him to become a vampire, also majima himself turns into a vampire later in the story thanks to a certain mad simp nishitani)

yuko comes back as a vampire

at some point the scene from my fanart happens; something along the lines of kiryu and nishiki being found by the evil vamps and being attacked. then of course nishiki saves kiryu (who's still baffled that this shit is happening to them and vampires are REAL) and tells him to run which he doesn't but it works out fine in the end

the scene of nishiki drinking kiryu's blood is a MUST because i. love. that. shit. (it's also extremely horny dfjvhsdkfhiasdfhisd)

nishiki's personality is somewhere in between his ykz0 and ykz k*wami self (like, he's much colder now but he still cares about others and does things not just for the sake of his own ambition)

idk about the end but immortal boyfriends? sounds nice?

#i'm so sorry anon this took so long #i went to bed and slept for like 12 hours and then my neck and back were really bothering me ghjklkjljfkjg #i had to take a few smoke breaks along the way #writing shit is hard #OKAY I'M DONE WITH EXCUSES SORRYYYYY #nishikiryu #yakuza #vampire!au #ask

13 notes · View notes

brywrites · 4 years

Text

Little Beautiful

Summary: In which Max’s art exhibit is a gallery of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes. Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

.......

Spencer Reid can name many beautiful things. He can talk in depth about the natural splendor of the Golden Ratio and why humans love symmetry. He can explain the history of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, recount the painstaking detail with which the Taj Mahal was built. He’s seen desert sunsets and shooting stars and the faces of parents reunited with children they thought they might never see again.

He loves all the great and beautiful things in the world. And nobody quite makes the world look as beautiful as Max does. She’s protective of her art, fiercely private about it, but the glimpses she allows him stun him. Then again, he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, she’s beautiful.

Reid thinks he could never tire of looking at her. Her wide, brown eyes, her long eyelashes, the way her cheeks are painted pink each time he pushes her hair back from her face. Her smile just knocks him out. Her movements are graceful, elegant. And the sight of her bare body in the soft light of his bedroom makes him think that no word in any language could ever even hope to come close to describing this sort of perfection.

Everything about her puts a sunset to shame. Her laugh. The way she makes him smile on the worst days. The softness of her touch when her skin is on his. The warmth of her embrace. The kindness of her heart. There’s no doubt, Maxine Brenner is beautiful, in every sense of the grossly inadequate word.

But beauty has a way of reminding him of his own inadequacies. For all his love of lovely things, Reid knows the word is never one he could hope to claim. His face won’t ever inspire poetry. His hair is, at best, an unruly mess. His stubble is always a little scruffier than he’d like it to be. And while he managed to get physically stronger after Milburn, getting in shape didn’t quite happen. He can hold an unsub on the ground without worry, but he’s absolutely terrified each time he undresses before her.

But he loves her. Which is why when she hands him a flyer that reads, Little Beautiful, he knows he’ll say yes to whatever it is before she even explains.

“I have a confession to make,” Max says. “I didn’t want to tell you sooner because I was afraid I might jinx it, but now that it’s all official – I’m going to have an exhibition at Jolie Laide!” Jolie Laide is one of the District’s most revered contemporary commercial galleries, and Max is understandably over the moon.

“What?” he gasps. “When did this happen? How?”

“There was a call for submissions, and well I’ve been working on this idea for a while and I figured why not give it a shot? Spencer, they loved it! They actually loved my art!” she says, and the little hop of joy in her step makes him want to kiss her right there in the middle of the street. Is she even aware of how adorable she is?

“That’s incredible. I mean, I’m not surprised. Everything you do is incredible. But what’s the title mean?” he asks, pointing at the flyer.

“It’s a Van Gogh reference,” she says, and he smiles. Of course it is. The Dutch master will always have a spot in her heart, and in the small “Starry Night” tattoo on her inner arm. “Find things beautiful as much as you can,” she recites. “Most people find too little beautiful.”

She takes his hand in hers. Her hands are small and dainty. He could almost close his fingers around hers completely. It makes him think he must look so strange beside her, a mess of lanky limbs.

“I know that big parties aren’t really your scene,” Max says. “But the opening night is kind of a big deal and it would really mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. They turn down the street to his apartment. “You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for five months, three weeks, and five days. Of course I’m going to be there.”

“Well good. And tell your friends! The more the merrier. I think you’re really gonna like it,” she adds, with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes his stomach flip.

“If you made it, I know I’ll love it.” Deciding the doorstep of his building is close enough, he leans down to kiss her.

Two weeks later, he finds himself standing in the lobby of Jolie Laide with the rest of his team. Many of them have decided to make a date night of the event, as it’s not often profilers have the excuse to attend a formal event. Reid shifts nervously from foot to foot as they wait for the doors to open. Somehow he still feels out of place in nice suit, wearing the “Starry Night” tie she bought him at a work trip she took to the MoMA. Everyone here looks so beautiful, and he feels like he’s playing dress up, like they’ll all be able to tell he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s all too aware of the way he hasn’t managed to tame his hair, of the way his shirt fits a little tighter than it used to, of the way the people around him exude an air effortless cool that he could never hope to.

To ease his mind, he takes comfort in counting the people waiting. They’re all here for Max, for the beautiful things she makes. The last time he was at a gallery opening like this he was standing in a sweater vest next to Gideon who was flirting with the artist while Reid tried not to stare too much at Lila Archer. The memory makes him want to laugh – how infatuated he felt at that time with her. And now with Max, he can’t imagine thinking such a feeling was love. It’s so different than the consuming warmth he feels when he’s with her, the way hearing her voice can bring him back down to earth when his mind moves too quickly, the way he he’s always hated touch but never seems to mind when it’s her. Rather he craves the feeling of her hand in his, her arms around him, her lips on his skin. He’s in love with her, and he’s in deep.

The clock strikes seven and the doors are opened. They step into the bright white gallery space. The moment he’s inside, he is in awe. He recognizes Max’s work immediately, and it’s everywhere. There are large canvas paintings of small objects that take up so much space. There are paintings that must be zoomed in, hyper-focused views of much bigger objects. And it’s all beautiful. Max’s work has the same mastery over colors as the Impressionists, but with contemporary details and precision. Her paintings don’t just look like something, they feel like something. There is a series of pieces of stunningly detailed school supplies – a crayon, a yellow pencil, a bottle of glue. They seem to reflect light, possessing colors far too rich for items so simple.

Max has made them lovely with her gaze, with her hands.

In one painting, a vibrant sunset is seen through a small window. In another, the trunk of a tree is made to look so close that the leaves the viewer stares up at are but a golden blur. Fruit, a butterfly’s wing, and a flower are made into a kaleidoscope of colors. He catches glimpses of familiar faces in portraits – her sister Michelle’s eye, her father’s hand, identifiable by his watch, holding a baseball with vibrant red stitching.

“Wow,” Simmons says, standing beside him. “This is amazing. I mean, I don’t always get art, you know? But damn. Max is talented.”

“She sure is,” Reid says. But he’s only half listening, because he’s taken in by it, by all of it. This is the world through Max’s eyes. All these little details, all the little beautiful things that she sees. And she has reflected them back to the world in a way that takes his breath away.

The unfamiliar voice of an man calls the gallery to attention through a microphone, and Reid makes his way back towards the entrance where all the guests are slowly gathering.

“I now have the pleasure of introducing tonight’s guest of honor, Maxine Brenner,” a man with tiny wire-rimmed classes says.

Reid joins the crowd, falling into place beside Garcia and JJ just in time to see Max walk over in a white lace dress. She is utterly radiant, resplendent. His heart quickens at the sight of her. She takes the microphone and thanks the man with a dazzling smile. “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “It’s truly an honor to share this night with you, and I’m thankful to Jolie Laide for the opportunity to do so. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Van Gogh is my favorite artist. He once said, find things beautiful as much as you can. Most people find too little beautiful. The concept for this exhibit was to find all the beautiful things that we overlook. I wanted to pay attention to their little details and find new ways to show the world what beautiful is and what it could be. Every painting is of something I’ve found lovely – whether it’s a natural phenomenon seen through a new lens or an everyday object that just needs someone to notice it or a person–”

She pauses and her gaze moves over the crowd until she spots him. And that mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes. “– who doesn’t realize how beautiful they are. I hope that tonight helps you all to see the beauty around you and in yourselves, and maybe encourages you to see things a little differently, and to find the world a little more beautiful.” As she bows, the room bursts into applause and he swells with pride. This is her moment, and she’s beaming, and he couldn’t be more happy for her.

He wants to go up and hug her, but a swarm of admirers immediately descends upon her with enthusiastic questions and curious remarks. This is her night. He knows that when she wants to talk to him, she’ll let him know. For now, he’ll let these strangers have their moment with her – he can have all of the time in the world with her. The team opts to take a break to help themselves to the refreshment table and Emily offers to grab him a drink, but he politely refuses. He wants to keep walking around.

He can’t help but smile as he does so, hearing the praise and wonder in the words of the other guests. Yes, he wants to tell them. Yes, she’s that talented. Yes, she notices things nobody else does. And she’s hilarious and generous and gorgeous and somehow, somehow I am hers. But how unsightly it would be of him, in his suit and crooked tie, with his messy hair and off-balance gait to interrupt these strangers reveling at the beauty before them. So he stays quiet, happy just to be here. Happy to have the privilege to even witness such beauty.

When he turns the corner, he’s grateful he declined that drink because if there were a glass in his hand, he surely would have dropped it. Many of Max’s pieces are gathered on walls or in corners in groups based on themes or subjects. And in this particular nook, he finds himself uncomfortably familiar with the face staring back at him from one of them. The same face he has stared down in the mirror a thousand times.

It strikes him – Max has painted him. Reid steps closer and realizes it’s not just one painting. The whole wall is him. There is a painting of just one honey-colored eye, gazing down. A hand on the spine of a book. His lips, slightly parted, just a little uneven. His shoulders and collarbone, the slope of his neck and the curve of his chin, a few wild curls visible in the narrow view of the painting. And two portraits where his face is fully visible.

The brushstrokes are so careful, the colors so soft. She paints him in curves and edges and tiny hints of unexpected hues. She paints him with such detail, as though she has tried to memorize every inch of him. She has painted him beautiful.

And for a thirty-six seconds he can’t breathe. He just stares. Because this is how she sees him. And she’s put it on display for all the world to see.

“There’s a level of precision in these that I didn’t see in the other portraits,” an older woman says to a young woman beside her. “I can’t explain it, but it somehow feels like they were more… lovingly painted.”

“Like she knew exactly how they should feel,” her companion agrees.

“The subject has such a striking jawline,” a man says to the woman holding his hand. “And I like the way she painted his hair. Every curl is so careful.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says, pointing to one of the portraits. Max has painted him smiling, gazing upwards, and he isn’t even sure if he’s capable of looking that way. “I think this one might be my favorite overall.” When they step aside, he can read the small placard on the wall naming the paintings. It reads, “And if I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” Series. Oil on canvas. 2020.

Reid swallows hard, past the lump of emotions lodged in his throat, and turns quickly to walk to another corner of the gallery, both to avoid recognition and because if he keeps looking he thinks he might cry. But when he turns, she’s standing right there. Looking up at him through her long lashes, her graceful hands clasped in front of her as she waits in that lovely lace dress.

“Do you like it?” she asks him, nodding at the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did you paint me?”

Max smiles. “I told you, Magic Man, I wanted to paint pretty things.”

He shakes his head. “But I’m not – I mean, look at me, I’m–”

“I am looking.” She reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek, having to stand on her toes even in heels to do so. “And you are beautiful. My beautiful. I wanted to show you the way I see you. Because of all the beautiful things, none of them make me feel quite like you do.”

Max takes his hand and walks up to the paintings. She says nothing, just waits as he looks at them close up, unafraid of someone realizing he’s looking at himself. He stares at the light and shadows created by her paintbrush. The bright colors that draw attention over painted skin. The soft gaze, the eyes that seem to look so alive. Stray freckles, flecks of tan and gold. It feels so astonishingly intimate. There’s no denying that her work is remarkable. It is beautiful.

And this is how she sees him. Worthy of that sort of attention. Capable of bringing those kinds of colors to life. And when he faces her, he realizes – the painting with the smile. He does look that way. He can feel the movement of the muscles in his face forming a near mirror image as he realizes he only ever looks that way at her.

“Thank you,” he says. Max pulls him down to kiss him, her lips so sweet, and it feels beautiful. He thinks that if they were not here, surrounded by other people, that he would love nothing more than to avail her of that beautiful dress and paint patterns of her skin with his fingertips, give every inch of her the same level of attention with his lips that she did with her paints, and whisper over and over to her just how lovely he finds her.

But they’re not alone, not yet. “Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan says. All of his friends are there, having discovered this nook of the gallery. “Look at that! She somehow managed to make you look even prettier than usual, Pretty Boy.” Reid flushes crimson as they praise Max’s work. She joins them to walk around the rest of the gallery, her hand in his, and from time to time he swears he can see someone staring at the two of them, and he knows they recognize his face. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how the rest of the world looks at him, so long as he knows the way he looks through her eyes. For the first time, he can see himself the way she sees him. As he is, not as he fears he is.

Somehow, this has become his life. Walking through a gallery of paintings made by his favorite person, while she gazes at him like he’s her only muse, telling him that he belongs among lovely things. Somehow believing it all. Somehow at home surrounded by strangers and a few of the people he trusts most. This is his life. And what a beautiful life it is.

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x max #spencer reid x max brenner #max brenner #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds #fanfiction #imagine #little beautiful #brywrites

88 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Garlic

즐기는 것은 이상한 일이지만. Though it's a strange thing to enjoy.

Description: The story of how you met Dokyeom through his grandma and a shared love for peeling garlic. [Please don't judge me >.< I thought of this while peeling garlic for my mom so that happened.] Warnings: None Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2.3k

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"Grandma Minnie!" I call out as I step through the front gate, "It's me, (y/n)."

From inside her home, I hear Grandma Minnie shuffling towards the door, "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

Two seconds later, the front door swings open and Grandma Minnie comes running out, apron still wrapped around her waist. She runs over and envelopes me in a hug.

"How are you darling?" She asks, grabbing my hand and leading me towards the house.

"I'm good. I've got some deadlines coming up but nothing too taxing." I tell her, slipping off my shoes. "How are you?"

"Me? Oh, honey, I'm fantastic. Especially now that you're here." Grandma Minnie chuckles and walks into the kitchen. On the table sit giant empty bins and one medium sized bowl filled with unpeeled garlic bulbs. The counters are filled with veggies waiting to be made into one of Grandma Minnie's many dishes.

"Grab the garlic, will you?" Grandma Minnie asks as she grabs two small knives.

I nod and pick up the deceivingly heavy bowl. Bowl in hand and tools ready, we head to the side porch where Grandma Minnie's already laid out a blanket for us.

Just as we sit down, Grandma Minnie's phone begins to ring from inside the house.

"Aigoo," She grunts as she stands again.

I pick a garlic bulb up and begin to peel the dried outer layer to reach the covered cloves. Each clove gets snapped off from the rest and I lay them all in a pile.

"Alright, alright. I'll see you soon then." Grandma Minnie ends her call, returning to her seat. "Here, put the peeled cloves in here." She places another bowl next to the one sitting between us.

Nodding, I pick up my paring knife and a clove. Starting at the flatter end where it connected to the stem, I peel back the thick skin.

"Any new gossip for me?" Grandma Minnie asks, picking up a bulb of her own. I look up and notice the mischief on her face.

I laugh, "I mean I don't have much from my neighborhood but part of me feels like you have more neighborhood gossip than I do."

Grandma Minnie smiles, "Oh, you bet I do." Her skillful hands quickly peel back the outer layer. "You know the lady who lives next door?"

I nod. I've seen her outside her house a couple times when I would walk by.

"Well," Grandma Minnie leans forward slightly, snapping off a large clove, "She and the grandpa down the street have been visiting each other almost every day for the past week."

"That's sweet." I comment, the thought of a relationship starting making me smile.

"Isn't it?" She agrees, "She's been alone for way too long."

"When did her husband pass away?" I ask, curious.

Grandma Minnie tilts her head up, her paring knife stilling against the clove in her hand. "I think 20 years ago?"

"I see." I nod along taking in the information. I check the clove to make sure there aren't any stray pieces of skin left before dropping it into the second bowl.

"Oh, the Park's, at the end of the street, with the bunny statues in the yard," She rattles off details of their home to spark my memory, "They have a new granddaughter!"

"Oh cute! What's the name?" I smile, a vision of chubby cheeks and tiny hands floods my mind.

"Kim Hyerin, I believe." She informs me, tossing her cleaned clove into the bowl.

"That's pretty." I pause to focus on a particularly difficult clove, whose skin doesn't seem to want to peel off. "Did you have any visitors?" I ask, once I successfully clean the clove.

Grandma Minnie shakes her head. "Not this week. But- oh! He's probably here by now." She suddenly looks around the yard.

I scrunch my eyebrows and set down my knife and current clove. "Who?"

"My grandson. He was the one who called me earlier. He's dropping by for a visit." She informs me. "He's the one who visited that one weekend you went on your trip a couple months ago."

I nod as the memory of her telling me about his last visit surfaces. Searching around the memory, I try to remember his name and anything she told me about him but I'm coming up with squat.

"GRANDMA!" A male voice shouts and struts through the front gate.

"My grandson!" Grandma Minnie gets to her feet and runs over to him with arms wide open and the biggest smile on her face. Nothing beats a visit from family.

He towers over Grandma Minnie but that's not surprising. Grandma Minnie is quite short and even an average height man would tower over her. His hair is well kept and styled to part in the middle. He's cargo shorts and a plain colored tee shirt and in his hand is a plastic bag.

"I bought these for you." He shows her the contents of the bag, "From the famous stand in the station."

Grandma Minnie pinches his cheek, "You didn't have to."

He shrugs, "I know."

"Come, we can share them." Grandma Minnie pats his shoulders.

"With who?" He asks, looks around, and spots me sitting so awkwardly on the side porch.

She drags him over by the hand, "Dokyeom, this is (y/n). (y/n), this is my grandson."

"Hi." I greet with a small wave.

"Hi." Dokyeom also greets, then turns to his grandma, "You didn't tell me you had a visitor."

"But it's Friday." Grandma Minnie argues, "She always comes on Fridays. Plus it's fine, now that you're here, you can take my spot peeling garlic and I can start on cutting up the veggies."

"You peel garlic too?" I ask, slightly surprised that he would enjoy it.

Dokyeom nods, "Growing up, when we visit, Grandma and I would sit on the porch and peel for hours. I've always wondered where all the garlic goes within a week."

I chuckle, "I've wondered the same thing."

"Alright, alright. Give me this," Grandma Minnie takes the plastic bag from him, "And go inside and bring me one of the bowls on the table along with the squash and the radishes, please. Oh! And the peeler and the big knife. Oh oh! And the red cutting board."

Dokyeom nods and ducks inside to collect the ingredients.

"He's a good kid." Grandma Minnie comments. "Here, try one of these." She pulls out a little rice cake. "They're filled with the smoothest sweet red bean paste you will ever taste."

I take it from her and take a bite. Her words were spot on. The red bean paste is silky smooth and just sweet enough. "Woah, that's really good." I tell her and pop the other half into my mouth.

"The lady who runs the stand has been doing it for 60 years." Dokyeom comments coming back out onto the porch with the bowl filled with veggies, "My older sister and I think that she's some sort of witch who is going to sell those cakes for eternity." He says, setting down the bowl next to me.

"And never sell her secret to the silky smooth paste." I add with a playful smile.

Grandma Minnie sits beside the bowl and begins to peel a radish.

As I go back to peeling a clove, Dokyeom takes Grandma Minnie's old spot and picks up her paring knife.

"How are your parents?" Grandma Minnie asks. "They haven't called me in a couple weeks."

"Yeah, they're busy with work and Noona's wedding." Dokyeom answers. "Which is why I came. Thought it'd be better if I visited in person rather than just calling."

"In person is always better." Grandma Minnie and I say at the same time which causes us to burst out laughing.

"I must be spending too much time around you." I smile at Grandma Minnie.

"That better not be a bad thing." She laughs back.

"So how did you come to start visiting my grandma?" Dokyeom asks, picking up another clove.

"I was a volunteer with a program that visited elders in the area who wanted visitors and then it became a regular visit." I tell him, "First time I came over, she shoved a paring knife in my hand and asked if I like peeling garlic. And lucky for her, I do enjoy it. Though it's a strange thing to enjoy."

"I understand the joy." Dokyeom nods his head. "What do you when you're not peeling garlic then?"

"I work at a design company in the business district." I tell him, "You?"

"Assistant teacher in the neighboring town." He says.

"He's so good with kids. So good." Grandma Minnie comments, absentmindedly.

"What grade?" I question.

"4th grade." He tosses a clean clove into the bowl.

"That's gotta be a handful." I smile at the thought of 20 some 4th graders running around a standing Dokyeom.

"It is but I've got the energy to match them." He throws a finger gun at me.

"I think you have the energy to outrun them, DK." Grandma Minnie says. "Even when he was in middle school, he was constantly running around, wanting to do everything, help with everything, go everywhere. He was like the energizer bunny."

"Grandmaaaaaaa." Dokyeom whines and I try to stifle a laugh.

"Don't you laugh, (y/n). Even though it's only been a year, I still have lots of embarrassing stories about you." Grandma Minnie threatens and my laugh immediately suppresses itself.

Now it's Dokyeom's turn to laugh.

"Damn, she's mean." I whisper to Dokyeom.

"Tell me about it." He whispers back, "When I was younger, she told me that a chilli pepper wasn't spicy. So I took a bite and it was the spiciest pepper ever."

"Ya!" Grandma Minnie yells and slaps his arm. "I didn't know it would be spicy."

Before long, all the garlic is peeled and the veggies and peeled and cut.

Dokyeom takes the large veggie bowl inside. Grandma Minnie takes the cleaned garlic bowl inside while I clean the peels that decided to try and run away from the rest. Once inside, Grandma Minnie already piling more veggies into another large bowl. Carrots, potatoes, onions, green onions, cucumbers, and mushrooms.

We head back out to the porch and begin peeling and cutting the veggies to how Grandma Minnie wants them. I hold out a cucumber for Dokyeom to take but he shakes his head.

"I don't like cucumbers." He informs me and picks up a carrot.

"You don't like cucumbers?" I repeat. "How do you not like cucumbers?"

He shrugs, "The smell throws me off."

"So you won't touch them either?" I pull the cucumber closer to me.

"Nope. I stay away from cucumbers if I can."

I open my mouth to say something else when Grandma Minnie interrupts me.

"Don't try to argue with him." She says, waving a potato at us. "He's been that way since birth. Won't ever touch a cucumber."

"Huh, interesting." I nod and start to peel the cucumber.

"A couple of my best friends are the same way." Dokyeom defends his dislike of cucumbers. "Can't eat or smell cucumbers."

"You have weird friends." I joke.

"Wait until you actually meet all of them." Grandma Minnie adds on.

"They're not that bad." Dokyeom immediately counters. "Grandma just thinks they're bonkers because of the stories I've told her. I swear they're not that bad."

I chuckle, "Don't worry, I don't think they're as bad as my friends."

"Ooooh, you're right." Grandma Minnie nods, "Both of you have insanely weird friends."

...

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" Dokyeom asks as he walks me to the front gate, "Grandma can get pouty if people don't eat her food."

I let out a small laugh, "I'm sure. I have a prepared dinner waiting for me back at my apartment."

For a second, a look of disappointment crosses his eyes but he quickly covers it up, "Well,

that's a good reason to skip Grandma's dinner. Did someone prepare it for you?" He asks.

"Yeah, my roommate did." I reply, "She's constantly trying new recipes and Friday nights are designated to us."

His face seems to light up after telling him this. "That sounds like so much fun. You guys must get along really well."

I nod, "I've known her for a couple years. We're pretty much inseparable except when we want to be separated." I laugh thinking of the times my roommate and I don't see each other for a couple days though we're both stuck in the same apartment.

"I know the feeling." Dokyeom agrees. He holds the front gate open for me, "Hey, maybe we can get together sometime and you can tell me why you enjoy peeling garlic so much?"

"Only if you tell me why you enjoy it so much." I smile back.

"Deal." Dokyeom nods., "I'll see you around."

"You too." We say our goodbyes and I start walking towards the subway station to get back to my apartment.

As I reach the subway platform, I can't help but feel like I've forgotten something back at Grandma Minnie's house. My phone rings with a text but I don't recognize the number.

"Hey, it's Dokyeom. Got your number from Grandma Minnie because I was an idiot and forgot to ask you for your own number." It reads.

And the light bulb goes off. His number. We never exchanged numbers. Well, thank goodness for Grandma Minnie.

"You're not the only idiot, I forgot to ask as well." I reply back as the subway train arrives at the station.

"Yeah, well, you're not the one Grandma almost kicked out of the house because he forgot to ask." He answers.

"She would never!" I type.

"Oh trust me, she almost did." Dokyeom adds two laughing emojis.

#seventeen #seventeen imagine #dokyeom #dokyeom imagine #lee dokyeom #lee dokyeom imagine #seokmin imagine #lee seokmin imagine #dk imagine

65 notes · View notes

dudeandduchess · 4 years

Text

Cooking with Kyōjurō: Strawberry Shortcake (Kyōjurō x F!S/O, Modern AU, NSFW Scenario)

Summary: Kyōjurō and his wife are putting in some overtime to finish R&D for the seasonal menu change, and with no one else around, things get a little heated— all in time for a certain someone’s birthday. Note: I know, I know. The Mulan AU was supposed to be up today. But we’ll push it for tomorrow. Sorry, bbys! Word Count: 3,036

Warnings: Smut, Food Play, Semi-Public Sex, Kitchen Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Creampie

***

Kyōjurō sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as he leaned over the filled-out sheets of paper on the stainless-steel counters. He then crossed out something on the top sheet, setting the pen down and rolling his neck to loosen out the tension he felt on his shoulders.

It had already been a week since they started research and development for the new menu, but they were only halfway through revising all of the recipes. Had he been just a married man with no child, then he wouldn’t have had a problem with staying so late at the restaurant— but, as it was, he wasn’t.

He was married and had a kid at home— one that he wasn’t even able to tuck into bed, nor read stories too, all because of the blasted menu change. Hell, he couldn’t even see his daughter awake; since he left home before she woke up, and came back when she was already fast asleep.

And it was taking its toll on him.

Kyōjurō was never one to be snappy, but everyone was giving him a wide berth in the kitchen— since the pissed off aura kept wafting from him in droves. That, and because he had actually told someone off for messing an entire batch of kanpachi crudo up.

Normally, he would have taken it in stride and made a last-minute solution to still get to use the food, but it was at that moment that everyone knew just how Kyōjurō made it to where he was in life; and it wasn’t by being so gung-ho and optimistic all the time.

If (Y/n) were to be honest, she would admit that she had wanted nothing more than to push her husband down at that moment and fuck him on the tabletop counter. But she was at work, so she had to reign her urges in.

They hadn’t even had the chance to get started on making baby number two, as both of them would just shower when they got home— before passing out on their bed, due to how tired they were as of late.

And so, that was how she had come up with the plan to give him a well-deserved birthday present; which played out nicely with their schedules, since they almost always got out of the kitchen at around two in the morning.

It was such an unhealthy schedule, but it was the price that they had to pay to have lived out their dreams of providing good food for people.

To set her plans in motion, she had to go home and grab a quick shower— if only to freshen herself up before setting things in motion. She felt so unsure about wearing the lingerie set that Kyōjurō had given to her a few months before— a crotchless, red lace ensemble that left nothing to the imagination, as well as a matching bra that had her nipples pressing up against her dress.

It really wasn’t ideal to even propose sex in the kitchen, but she also knew that it had always been one of her husband’s wishes to fuck her at their workplace— so, she found herself finally about to give in to that request of his.

Gingerly, she adjusted her hold on the small cake in her hands— one that Senjurō and Ran had set to making earlier in the day, all for Kyōjurō’s surprise. Of course, she left the details of her own surprise out of it; as a decent mother and sister-in-law would do.

Her footsteps were muffled against the rubber matting that they’d laid out in the kitchen, but her heels got caught in the tiny holes, so she was practically tip-toeing her way over to him— if only to make herself seem sexy.

Because it would really not be sexy, if she were to get her heels caught in the mat. Not at all.

Kyōjurō was still poring over their rough menu, bent over the long counter and leaning on his elbows as he read over every single thing they’d written down. It was eerily silent, and darker than usual, as they had turned off most of the lights in the dining area— which was visible from where they were, as it was an open kitchen— but Kyōjurō paid no mind to it.

He was so focused on getting their job done, more because he wanted to get home before his birthday and celebrate turning twenty-eight by fucking his wife until he was sure that she was pregnant.

“Kyō,” (Y/n) called out softly, licking her lips briefly as her nerves tried to creep up on and consume her. The last thing she needed was to chicken out; not when she had already worked up so much courage to even do what she was about to.

The blond looked up at his wife then, finally noticing that she had been there for a while— since she was already standing a few feet away from him, with a small strawberry shortcake in her hands; all while wearing a dress, and sexy heels, too.

He could feel his cock throb at that, stirring to life within the confines of his slacks, as he took in more of the delicious sight that his wife made.

“Hi, baby,” Kyōjurō greeted, a small grin tugging up at the corners of his lips, as he closed the distance between them and placed his hands on her arms— caressing her smooth and supple skin with as much reverence as he could muster at that moment. “For me?”

“Sen and Ran made it earlier,” (Y/n) answered softly, taking one hand and plucking the lone strawberry from the top of the cake. She then held it out to his lips, gently running the tip of the fruit against his bottom lip— inadvertently smearing the whipped cream icing along his lips.

The blond’s tongue poked out to lick off the sweet icing, grinning when the sweetness coated his tongue. “That’s good.”

And then, he slid his left hand up to encircle his wife’s right wrist, using that grip to bring the strawberry up to his lips once more— before bringing it up to her lips, all so she could take a bite out of it. His cock got even harder in his pants at that, as his gaze took in the tantalizing way that her pretty mouth wrapped around the fruit.

However, before Kyōjurō could lean in and savor the taste of the strawberry from her lips, (Y/n) stepped away from her husband and set the cake and piece of fruit down on the pass; letting her eyes flicker up to those irises that she loved so much, and taking note of the way that they darkened with lust.

Especially when she turned around and showed him the zipper on the back of her dress.

The young man didn’t even need to be asked to move at that, automatically stepping forward to unzip the back of his wife’s dress— and watching her so intently, as she slipped the straps off her arms and let the garment fall to the floor.

His eyes immediately widened at the sight of her ass in those lace panties that he’d gotten for her months before; yet he could only wait with baited breath as she turned around and showed him the absolutely sinful ensemble that she wore for him.

She had worn it before in the bedroom, but seeing her wear the center-slit bra, and the crotchless panties had his cock twitching to attention between his legs.

“Fuck. You’re so beautiful,” He whispered reverently, moving to palm his erection over his pants, if only to ease the pressure he felt.

Things were a blur after that; one minute both of them were standing a few feet apart, and the next (Y/n) was on top of the steel countertop, with her legs slung over her husband’s shoulders as he traced her pussy’s slit with his index finger.

Kyōjurō then leaned forward, tentatively sucking his wife’s clit into his mouth, as his eyes landed on the cake that she’d set down earlier. And, even though it pained him to move away from her, he did so to get the sweet treat and pull it closer to him.

Then, with the index finger on his left hand, he scooped up an ample amount of the icing and smiled right up at his wife— as she gazed down at him from where she was sprawled on the countertop.

“Kyō? What are you going to do with that?”

“Relax, baby. I’m just enjoying my cake… and my wife.” The words sent a shiver running up her spine, making her wait in tense anticipation for him to do something— anything, really.

Her legs almost snapped shut around his head, had he not wedged himself closer to her— right before smearing the cool icing along her clit.

“Kyōjurō,” (Y/n) breathed out with a stuttering sigh, eyes falling shut as she felt his tongue lap at her pussy— slow and deliberate at first, until he sucked her clit into his mouth once more; flicking the tiny nub between his teeth, and making her legs quiver with the threat of an oncoming orgasm.

However, the young man pulled away the moment that he knew that his wife was about to cum— smiling down at her, as he got up from between her legs and tugged her hips to the lip of the counter, so that her legs were on either side of his waist, with his clothed cock pressed up against the wet slit between her crotchless panties.

She was going to make a mess of his slacks, but that was the last thing on Kyōjurō’s mind at that moment, as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and boxers far down enough to let his erection spring up against the hem of his chef’s jacket.

The action left a wet spot of precum on the white uniform, yet he still leaned forward and nestled the underside of his cock against his wife’s slit— slowly grinding against her, and deliberately hitting her clit with every thrust. He was completely unmindful of the mess he was already making, and the mess that he had yet to make— especially when he scooped up more of the icing with his index finger, and smeared it up (Y/n)’s torso in a cool line.

He then got some more icing from the cake, using that to top his wife’s nipples with the sweet treat; spreading it around with the tip of his finger, and flicking her nipples with that same digit— which had her legs tightening on either side of his waist.

“F-fuck! Kyō!” (Y/n) gasped out, close to being delirious with pleasure just from those ministrations alone. Her hands, which laid on either side of her, clenched into fists; trying to grab hold of anything that would anchor her to reality, but failing to do so since there was nothing but a metal counter beneath her.

As if that wasn’t pleasurable enough, the blond then bent down to take (Y/n)’s left nipple into his mouth— licking and sucking the icing off of the taut bud, before finishing it off with a gentle nip of his teeth.

Her hands came flying up into his hair at the nip, holding on to him tightly as he switched to her right nipple— completely oblivious to the mess he’d made on her the red lace bra.

At that point, with all of the sucking and the grinding, she was dripping wet— and it could be heard throughout the entire kitchen. Soft, wet squelches reverberating off of the tiled walls, and filling the silence with the sound of their lewd actions.

However, Kyōjurō was far from done with his wife.

He claimed her mouth as soon as he cleaned the icing off of her right nipple, letting her taste the sweetness of it on his tongue, before nipping at her bottom lip as he pulled away. “I can’t wait to put my cock inside you, baby. I’m going to fill you up with so much cum. Fuck, I’m going to knock you up tonight; you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

She could only nod at the filthy words that he whispered against her lips, feeling their lips brush momentarily with every downward shake of her head. “Please, Kyō. I need you now.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Her eyes snapped open at that, looking at him in disbelief before considering giving in to his request.

In all the years they’d been married, never had Kyō made her wait that long— or even beg that much— for his cock. He was someone who always loved to please her, so having him ask for more after hearing her plea threw her for a loop— and it made her incredibly wetter, as his cock still kept rubbing up and down her slit.

“I want you to stuff me with your cock, and fuck me so good that I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” The young woman pleaded, a slight whimper punctuating her words, before she gasped and clung tighter to her husband. “Please, Kyōjurō. I need to feel your cum inside me. Plug me up with your di-”

She couldn’t continue after that, as she had been cut off by Kyōjurō slipping his cock inside her— down to the hilt— in one smooth move. A groan left his lips at the sensation of her tight walls squeezing around him, yet he fought the urge he had to repeatedly ram himself inside (Y/n) in his search for release.

Instead, he languidly pulled his hips back— dragging his cock out of her, just so she could feel every ridge and vein rubbing against her walls. It had her locking her feet at his back, trying to get him to fill her up again, yet he was having none of that.

It was his birthday, after all, and he had to have the reigns that night.

So, he pulled out until the head of his dick slipped out of her— pressing the blunt edge up against her cunt and grasping it with one hand, all so he could slap it lightly against her clit.

(Y/n) cried out at that, nails tugging at his hair, and back arching up into him, which he took as a sign of her neediness. But it wasn’t until she started full on begging that a smile crept onto his face.

“Please, Kyōjurō! Please fill me up with your cock. I need you; I need you to fuck me now,” Her words were tacked off with a desperate sob, one that had the blond feeling a mix of guilt and lust inside him, as he had never seen his wife as needy as she was at that moment.

And so, deciding to have mercy on her, she aligned himself up to her entrance once more, and pushed inside with one hard thrust— making her back slightly slide up against the steel countertop. Yet he was only rewarded with a pleasured moan, instead of a pained grunt; and that had him moving inside her— thrusting his hips vigorously into her, and drawing out moans and sighs that were music to his ears.

With every inward thrust, his cockhead would hit the entrance of her cervix— further making her breathless, as she tried to meet him thrust for thrust. Her desperation was so beautiful as he loomed above her, that he couldn’t help but want to immortalize the scene before him— but, unfortunately, his phone was in his back pocket and he wasn’t going to stop fucking his wife just to get it.

“Fuck, baby, I’m going to cum,” He groaned softly, his hands tightening their hold on her hips as he fucked her deeper and faster— even swiveling his hips to drag his cockhead along the entrance to her cervix.

The move had her tensing up beneath him, silent at first as she bit down on her bottom lip to keep her moans in— until she threw caution to the wind and let out the most sinfully pleasured moan that he’d ever heard her make.

So, he kept doing that; alternating between swiveling his hips and thrusting into her with vigor, drawing out more and more of her pleasure, until he could feel her walls clamp down on his cock. It was as if she didn’t want to let his dick go, what with how tight she nestled him inside her; partnered with how she pulled him closer to her with her legs.

He could feel her muscles quivering, yet the pressure he felt digging into his back never lessened— it was her own subtle way of telling him to cum, as her mouth was too busy painting the kitchen’s air with her pleasured cries.

“I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” She yelled out, shameless in her own passion as she pulled Kyōjurō down to capture his lips in a kiss; if only to feel and taste more of him.

With one last thrust, Kyōjurō buried himself in (Y/n)’s cunt, feeling his cock twitch inside her as thick ropes of his hot cum coated her walls. He then pulled his lips away from hers, momentarily catching his breath before pressing a brief peck to her lips. “You were so amazing, baby.”

At that, a lazy smile made the young woman’s lips quirk up at the corners— as she opened her eyes that had fallen closed somewhere along their hot fucking session. And, instantly, her gaze landed right on the digital clock that hung on the wall behind her husband.

It was already fifteen minutes past midnight.

So, with her nails gently scratching at his scalp, she whispered, “Happy birthday, baby.”

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kyojuro x reader #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyōjurō #kimetsu rengoku #kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou scenario #demon slayer fanfic #jen writes

294 notes · View notes