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annachum · 10 months ago

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Cont. from that Fic where Sansa visits Highgarden and the Graves of Margaery, Renly, Loras and Olenna

The carriage ride from Highgarden back to Winterfell, although rather long, is overall smooth.

No Lannister assasin trying to jump on her and her family, no Baratheon fleet blockade trying to attack her and her siblings.

Great.

As soon as the carriage arrived at Winterfell, the colder air of the North embraced Sansa gently as she stepped out of the carriage into the Castle of Winterfell

It's strange how, only a few years back, she arrived at Kings Landing with her family, being more naive and only 13 then, and trying to fit into Southern culture, only to be betrayed and traumatized by the Lannisters one to many times.

Tyrion divorcing Sansa saved her family in multiple ways, and Sansa is eternally grateful for that act, for she and her family can flee to the North as Cersei targeted them over Joffrey's death.

Yet now, as Queen of the North, even with all that happened, Sansa feels more at home in the North than ever. For the first time in years, the North is finally an independent kingdom once again, away from whatever machination with the late House Lannister

Here in the North, Sansa feels at home

As she entered her dressing room, her attendants immediately got to work to help her change in the dinner meeting with Jon Snow at his tower.

Sansa opted for a dark purple Robe dress in more of Riverlands style, and also a black cloak with silver wolf fur trimmings akin more to Winterfell style. She let a handmaid style her reddish gold hair to a beautiful braided coiffure, as another handmaid gave her a handful of gloves to choose from.

Sansa chose a pair of black finger gloves - a classic Winterfell fashion staple. The North is also known for its gloves and furs in fashions.

As she made a quick work of light pink lip paint, dabbed her freckled cheeks with blush, she wore a beautiful silver crown upon her head, and thanked her handmaids, before Sansa went out of her dressing room to board on that carriage to Jon Snow's tower

Up at Jon Snow's tower at the borders of Winterfell, Jon Snow is pacing back and forth next to the fireplace of his tower's private dining hall. The dishes have already been placed, covered with beautiful silver lids. And Jon Snow smoothed over his navy blue robe as he looked out, in waiting of the Queen of the North.

What could possibly keep her? He wondered.

And on top of that, he had no idea why he was so nervous about this meeting. A dinner with a Queen, yes. He has dined with royals and nobles before, wined with soldiers who fought alongside him battlefields.

But this is totally different, especially when Jon Snow found his heartbeat quicken at the sight of the red haired Queen of the North.

No. He must be careful, and watchful. He cannot risk another heartbreak again, especially after the events concerning Ygritte and Daenerys.

His mind is still racing of the events concerning Ygritte, Daenerys and Sansa as of late, when all at once, his nerves are calmed somewhat when he sees Queen Sansa Stark being escorted out of her carriage to his tower.

' Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Sansa of the North. '

At the sound of a messengers announcement, Jon shuffled himself, and at Sansa's graceful entry, he bowed in genuine deference ans admiration

' Your Majesty - '

' No need for the formalities, Sir Jon. ' Sansa beamed as she motioned him to rise. ' You are also a Stark, remember? "

' Yes, I remember, Majesty. ' Jon stumbled. Pull yourself together, Jon! his little voice screamed inside his head, as he rose.

The dinner was overall smooth. The lamb and root vegetable stew is excellent, the apple cider warm, and the haggis is wonderful.

Even though it is technically a dinner meeting about border guard matters, the 2 gradually relaxed into the meal. Jon can't help but admire how far Sansa has come - from a desperate Princess who rushes to him for help against Ramsey, to now a dignified, wiser Queeb of the North.

' I must compliment the lamb stew, Jon. ' Sansa smiled. ' Brings back of some of the springs my siblings and I have in Riverrun. '

' A new chef from there made it, Majesty. ' Jon remarked.

' Is that so? Splendid, I shall send my regards to the chef later on. ' smiling, Sansa put down her chalice that she drank apple cider from and continued. ' Now, about the border guards - it seems we may need a new upgrade of the retinue of the border fleets. Arya written to me about the trade measures several nations of Essos wish to make with the North. Perhaps it has something to do with the matchmaking of Bran. Again. '

Jon Snow can't help but laugh, but Sansa only laughed along in agreement.

' Well, it seems that your brother has become one of the most eligible bachelors of the 7 Kingdoms. Lucky for him. Your brother has grown into a handsome, wealthy, King of the South. Of course I can't really blame several families trying to recommend brides to him. '

' My brother has to be more careful in these matters. ' Sansa noted. ' He is doing fine so far, with his regency of the South and diplomatic measures with the Bravoosi and all that. I sincerely hope he doesn't make similar mistakes as I did. '

' I understand. ' Jon spoke lowly, with a mixture of understanding and empathy. Yes, both of them made mistakes. Yet they were younger then, and didn't know any better. Now both are working to forgive themselves more on their past mistakes.

' Thus, the Border Guards of Winterfell may need upgrades on the custom checking of goods from Essos, lest there are any assassinations occur. ' Sansa shuddered at that and tried to keep her composure, yet Jon saw right through her attempt at composure - he knew that Sansa is actually concerned about such things. And rightfully so.

' I understand your concerns, my Queen. ' Jon said slowly. ' Yet fear not. As Night Watch, I and the border guards will keep greater watch of any other attacks Essos may have on The North. You have my word. '

Heaving a big sigh of relief, Sansa beamed at him. ' That's a reason why I asked you for help against the Boltons before. Because you are trustworthy. And you have proven it many times. '

' I thank you for such praise, my Queen. ' Jon nodded in respect

The rest of the sinner flowed smoothly, interchanging between on border guard measures, an upcoming diplomatic trip to visit Bran the next few days, and also how their days have been so far. They even enjoyed some stewed apples for desert while sipping some desert wine.

A hundred thoughts wracked through Sansa regarding Kings Landing. She hasn't been there for a time, especially when avoiding Cersei and her wrath about Joffrey's death ( Sansa remembered how her and her family rejoiced at that ). Olenna poisoned Joffrey, not Sansa. But that is a story of another time.

Sansa only hoped that the upcoming visit to Kings Landing can be overall smooth.

#jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #winterfell #got fanfic

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zenasflower · 9 months ago

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Perfection Flowers For Every Occasion

For those who deserve the best in life, present them with this exquisite floral arrangement! Coral roses, peach roses, pink gerberas and green bupleurum come together in a clear gathering vase.

Throughout the centuries, flowers have become powerful symbols. They can be interpreted as a sign of passion, virginity or loyalty. They have even given rise to myths and legends.

Rose

A definite must-have for every Rose lover, this floral Perfection flowers stands for beauty and grace. These vibrant blooms are perfect for showing your love for someone special, especially when paired with the classic white daisy or pink ranunculus.

Like wine, Rose has a variety of scents and flavors depending on the region and grape varietals used to make it. The lighter the shade of Rose, the more it leans towards a white wine flavor profile with zesty citrus and floral notes. Darker Roses are fuller bodied and can range from red fruit to earthy and herbal nuances.

Try a glass of Provencal Rose from France or Shiraz from Australia paired with a grilled chicken salad and a side of sweet potatoes. Or enjoy a glass of Tempranillo Rose from Spain with tomato-based pasta dishes, pizza and spicy foods.

Stock

Stock, also known as bone broth, is a savory cooking liquid that forms the basis for many dishes. It is made by simmering animal bones, meat, fish, vegetables, or a combination of these ingredients in water or wine for an extended period. A bouquet garni (a bag of herbs or spices that includes parsley, bay leaves and thyme) may be added to impart additional flavor.

Perfect flowers like Sundrops, members of the Evening Primrose family, feature a crazy number of stamens with a four-parted stigma, which makes them look as if an X marks the spot! These beautiful blooms represent perfection.

Lasting beauty and a happy life are both represented by stock flowers, as well as bonds of affection and promptness. Send these beautiful flowers to a loved one who deserves to feel special and admired for their accomplishments. They can also bring good luck and prosperity to anyone who receives them. As a bonus, they are thought to symbolize spiritual attainment.

Calla Lily

A calla lily's delicate blooms are the perfect flower for celebrating special moments. Their sleek curves add a sense of beauty and grace to wedding bouquets and centrepieces. Pair them with orchids and lilies of the valley in cascading bridal bouquets or display them individually as elegant table centerpieces. Calla Lilies can also be preserved using specialized techniques to retain their color, shape and overall appearance for a year or more, making them ideal for long-term decorative purposes and gifting.

In the garden, calla lilies grow best in warm environments with a consistently warm soil. They're typically hardy in zones 8-10, but they can be grown as annuals in colder climates or dug up in the fall and stored indoors to be replanted in the spring.

Callas come in a wide range of colours, from the pristine white of its namesake to exotic hues like deep purples and zesty oranges. Each flower actually houses a series of flowers within its single outside petal, technically known as the spathe.

Mistletoe

Mistletoe is one of the most well-known holiday plants Preserved flowers in Liverpool, but it's also one of the least understood. Traditionally, the plant was hung in homes during the holidays for peace and good luck. It's believed that the Druids were among the first to use it for this purpose, as they valued the plant for its healing properties.

It's also the origin of the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe, although scientists don't know exactly how it became part of Christmas lore. The name mistletoe derives from the Anglo-Saxon words for "dung" and "twig." The plants spread their sticky berries through bird droppings, but they don't sprout spontaneously.

Mistletoe has been used as a medicinal plant since ancient times and is still widely used today, especially in Europe. It's often referred to as the most effective natural cancer therapy and is currently being studied for its effectiveness against other diseases. Supplements made from the European mistletoe (Viscum album) are available under prescription and are given by injection or as a pill.

#Perfection flowers

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copper-dragon-in-disguise · 2 years ago

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Hi! I do have more questions now that I've read your detailed reply and thank you so much for that!

You said TV characters and such have colors and textures as well—what about star wars? 👀 Disaster lineage in particular or anyone you wanna say! Also do countries have colors and textures too? Feelings?

(and because you were kind enough to let me know my color is blue :')) is it because of my icon? What kind of blue? 👀😂)

okay so! i shall admit that, though I do actually follow you, I am not in fact that much of a star wars fan (I like the original 3, the rest vary from enh to *disgusted screaming*. TCW is fine tho).

however! obi wan is sort of a warm brown. cody is orange, obviously. both anakin and darth vader are red, the same color as darth vader's lightsaber. ashoka is the same blue as the strips on her lekku.

with merlin characters: merlin is a really dark blue, sort of like the tumblr blue but a little darker if that makes sense. arthur is the camelot red color. morgana is plum. gwen is sort of a light pink or a light purple, mordred is almost the same color as merlin but also a bit lighter.

doctor who, as a whole series and all that is related to it, is tardis blue. The individual seasons are defined by their intros, doctors, and companions. That being said, Nine is a dark maroon. Ten is either blue or brown, depending on the episode & his suit, with the default being brown. Eleven is bright yellow. Twelve is also red, but its a very different shade than Nine. I haven't seen enough (or any, besides gifs) of Thirteen to tell exactly what color she is, but I think its a buttery yellow. Martha is red-violet, and Donna is dark red (but is an entirely different color from Nine and Twelve). Rose is a really light sandy yellow. The Master is some sort of darkish blue, and Missy is dark lavender (an entirely different color from purple. maybe. sort of).

countries are weird; historical things, like ancient rome; ancient egypt, stuff like that, all have colors (at least the ones I know anything about). Modern day places don't really have color, with a couple exceptions. Greenland is green, for what I sincerely hope are obvious reasons. Canada is the same color as their side of niagara falls, and I wish I had a more specific description for that but I do not. Ireland is a sort of very dark, pretty green. Wales is a dragon (i know thats not actually a color, but I don't know how else to describe it).

Ancient Egypt is sandy yellow or teal, depending on which era (the old kingdom is sandy yellow, the middle & new kingdoms are teal); Ancient Rome is maroon. Ancient Greece is a light blue and white marble swirl type thing. A few of the emperors of Ancient Rome have specific colors (Nero is a wine colored purple and Augustus/Octavian/Octavius is sometimes orange and sometimes blood red, depending on how stupid he's being. Constantine is a mildly darker blood red. Diocletian is a medium gray) (You likely do not know who any of those people are except maybe Nero, that's fine, I wasn't really expecting anyone to, they were all Roman emperors.) Julius Ceaser (who was not technically an emperor!) is ivy green. Cleopatra is plum, the same color as morgana. Leonardo da Vinchi is yellow, the same color as sunflowers. Assorted other historical figures have colors, as do some, but not all, eras of history.

For instance: the Renaissance is red. In the middle east the middle ages are light blue, but in europe they're gray. The Black Death, or Bubonic Plague, is not black, its a greenish-yellowish.

I have many more color associations but for the sake of this being like. short ish (something this already is not). i shall not list them.

Your color is a light sort of sky blue, mostly due to your icon, but also because of your user (light as the sun? sky blue? get it? no? yeah, thats fair), and with some quick googling is Pantone 2985 C:

#asks #lightasthesun #brain oddities #oh have i mentioned that typed words don't have color?#at all?#hand written words do tho.#oh #and it if i really wanna get into it #not all color words are the color they describe #the vast majority are #but the word red is actually a reddish orange #thats the only one i can think of quickly but there are maybe others #idk

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

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Dead or Destitute

- a geraskier fic (warnings for blood, mild gore, swear words)

"What the fuck?" Geralt snarled at Jaskier who had just opened the door, wearing an amiable smile and the most ridiculous robe of silver-broquaded burgundy that flared out at the sleeves and the bottom with frilly cuffs. It was buttoned closed save for the top three which fell open to reveal a glorious patch of chest hair. Jaskier's lips looked wine-stained, his hair was tousled, but when he saw Geralt the haze of light intoxication lifted into a brilliant grin. A grin that went straight into Geralt's heart. Fuck. "Geralt. Didn't expect you to come calling, how'd you know I was around?"

"I didn't." "What? Then why are you here?" "Uh..." Geralt cocked his head. Sniffed. Yes, definitely red wine, but only half a glass. Jaskier wore a new perfume too, rose scented. He was partial to almost all flower scents whereas Geralt couldn't stand them. He preferred Jaskier's natural odour. "I'm looking for the Viscount de Lettenhove? Some Duchess from Novigrad sent me because apparently he owes her a large sum of money. You know this man?" Obviously, Jaskier knew this man. If the state of his appearance was anything to go by, he had probably been thoroughly engaged with this man before Geralt had knocked. Which caused an uneasy twinge Geralt pointedly ignored. So, Jaskier was courting trouble once more, nothing new here. "Sorry, what? Sent you? Geralt, are you playing debt collector?" Jaskier asked, stepping closer. The smile was persistent, stuck to his lips as he brushed a spot of Roach hair from Geralt's chestplate. The undertone of that statement, however, was accusatory which made Geralt defensive. "It's not like I enjoy it, but I've been going through a drought and it's like the monsters are hiding or something. Needed to feed myself." "Shit, that bad?" Jaskier crossed his arms, eyes raking up and down Geralt's body to look for signs of destitution. To the outside world, Geralt knew he looked like a regular old Witcher, but Jaskier might just be able to tell the smaller signs of his dry streak. "I will manage." He always did. "So, where is this man? Viscount. Whatever." "He's standing before you." "What... you?" "Surprise? Honestly, I had always assumed that you knew." Knew that Jaskier was secretly nobility? Geralt wrecked his brain for conversational fragments he might have overlooked, information he had simply forgotten, and came up short. "I didn't." "Well, now you do. Oh, but this is fun. Say, Sir Witcher," Jaskier licked his lips and peered up at Geralt from under thick lashes, the blue of his eyes stark in the waning light of day. Geralt furrowed his brow. "Are you entirely sure that I have to pay you back in coin?" Jaskier winked and something boiled over in Geralt's chest, bubbled up from out of nowhere. Gods, this man was infuriating. "Is this what you do when you owe people? Suck their cocks to get them off your back?" Geralt didn't give two fucks how that sounded. Jaskier might not be gifted with enhanced perception, but even he could comprehend jealousy when it was so blatantly put before him. As it was, Geralt's voice was drenched in it. Jaskier let out a humorless laugh, harshly contrasting his earlier mirth, and put his hands to his hips. "That's the road you wanna take with this? Truly? I had meant it as a jest, Geralt. In case you hadn't surmised from the fact that am a travelling bard, usually I'm not here when tax lawyers and debt collectors come calling and it's not like I constantly owe anyway. Besides, I can suck on whatever cock I like to." Technically, sure. It was just that Geralt wanted it to be his and only his. He couldn't very well say that, so he went for the second-best emotion he felt in regards to Jaskier pulling out sexual favours. "I just don't want you to whore yourself out, someone could hurt you," he said and was rather proud of how earnest that came out. "I'm not, I wasn't. I was just being flirtatious," Jaskier sighed, anger deflating. "Why would you be flirtatious with me?" "Why ever? Now that is a question I will only answer when I've had at least a bottle of Lambert's home-brewed vodka." "What?" "Never you mind. Come in, I may be dead broke, but I can still offer you a cup of tea." Jaskier stepped aside to let Geralt into a square foyer/living area which had a skylight and several settees and couches scattered around it. Three doors lead away from it as well as a winding staircase that disappeared behind a velvet curtain. The middle of the room was dominated by a table with half a dozen chairs, its light surface covered in parchments and dirty dishware. Jaskier's lute case sat next to the door, his traveling wardrobe was lain out over a dark purple couch. As if he had just arrived. Or wanted to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. "Sit, please," Jaskier said and gestured towards a back corner, the only couch without stuff on it. "Make yourself a home, I shall be right back. Chamomile, is it?" Geralt nodded absentmindedly and sat. This wasn't at all what he had expected. Neither from Jaskier nor from some Viscount. It was a nice house, definitely excessive compared to a commoner's lodging, but it wasn't grand. It was....cosy. Jaskier returned with two mugs, plain, one chipped, and sat next to Geralt, close enough that their shoulders bumped together. "Did you wash off the perfume?" "Uh, yes. I know you don't much care for it, messes with your senses and all." Jaskier shrugged and sipped on his tea, then cursed and put it down, rubbing his lower lip. Geralt wanted to kiss it better, astounded by Jaskier's perceptiveness. Fuck. In terms of doing his job, this was going sideways. "How'd you accumulate so much debt anyway? You break an ancient relic or something?" "Ha-ha. Actually, no. This state is entirely due to my great compassion and sense of selflessness. See, I have this friend who was a gambling problem. Asked me to help out and I couldn't say no," Jaskier explained. "Are you the friend?" "No, Geralt, I'm not, but thanks for believing in me..." Jaskier mock-pouted and Geralt laughed, but quickly sobered up when he remembered how insistent his contractor had been. Either the money or the Viscount's head. Geralt would not behead Jaskier, or anyone for that matter. He had planned on a simple Axii strategy. Now... well. "You could have come to me," Geralt said softly. He emptied his tea in two drags to hide how silly he felt. Why would Jaskier have come to him? And even had he wanted to, how would he have found him? His mouth ran away with it. "We could have sorted it out, we still can." "That is very sweet of you, dear, but you literally just told me you only took this job because your short on coin yourself. Anything else, sure, yes, you will always be my first address when I'm in too deep. This is something I have to get myself out of. I could-" "No," Geralt interrupted, slamming his mug down onto the table. Tea sloshed over the rim of Jaskier's. "No. We find some contracts. Wasn't there a plague in Vizima? Sure to be loads of Ghouls and Graviers around. Besides, cities are jack-full with crowds for you to play. We could save up, there's still time." "There really isn't." "Jask," Geralt pleaded, and for what? Truth be told, there was only one simple way out of this. "The Duchess, what did she tell you to do if I couldn't pay up?" Jaskier asked, worrying his lower lip which was entirely too distracting. "Bring her your head." Jaskier gulped audibly. "Well, guess I will have to fake my own death then..." "No," Geralt said. On an impulse, he took Jaskier's hand between his own and pressed his forehead to Jaskier's knuckles. "Give me three days. If I'm not back by then, you run." "Geralt, what are you planning?" "Do you trust me?" "With all my heart," Jaskier replied without missing a beat. A dusting of pink clung to his cheeks when Geralt let go of his hand and stood. "Three days," he repeated. He promised himself to make it in half that time. Two days later saw Geralt back in Jaskier's house, exhausted from sleep deprivation and the hunt that lay behind him. He held his trophy aloft for Jaskier to see. The bard stood a few feet away from Geralt, back in his standard arrangement of doublet and shirt, all a faded, dusty violet. "Geralt, is that a head," Jaskier whispered, wide-eyed. Something clammy and cold wafted over from him, but was promptly replaced with little bursts of adrenaline that melted on Geralt's tongue when he inhaled them subtly. He grunted and dropped the head onto the table where it splattered the parchment collection and dirty silverware with blood. "Fuck me..." Jaskier said, staring at it. The long blond curls were matted with grime, the once regal cheeks sunken in. Here was one Duchess past her zenith. "Are you not pleased?" Geralt asked and cocked his head. "This solves your problem." "It does, in a rather drastic fashion." Jaskier seemed to struggle with himself, mouthing words Geralt couldn't make out. Then, his shoulders dropped and he crossed the distance between them, put his palms flat against Geralt's chest. Tucked his face against Geralt's neck and Geralt grew very still. Careful to not give Jaskier cause to pull away. "But I thought you only killed monsters." The words came out shaky and when Geralt noticed that, he also picked up on the slightest tremor that hushed through Jaskier's body. What was going on? Had it been the wrong move after all? Geralt huffed in frustration, unable to read Jaskier after all the time they had spent together, and brought his hands up to cup the bard's shoulderblades. Jaskier shuffled closer. "Shouldn't have hired a Witcher," Geralt said. It' was a weak retort, didn't make all that much sense. The crystalline truth was that he had no ethical explanation for this, no code of conduct to refer back to. He had had more than ulterior motives for this one and, fuck, but it had been worth it. Even if Jaskier despised him for it, even if that made him the monster. He had done it to save a loved one from certain persecution, possible death. A loved one. Oh shit. "Suppose so..." Jaskier trailed off, nuzzled Geralt's neck and that was a weird feeling, created a tingle that made it hard for Geralt to swallow. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. He dared to splay his hands over Jaskier's back. "Jask?" "Yeah?" "Are you okay?" he murmured, hiding his smile in Jaskier's hair. "I'm conflicted," Jaskier admitted. "How?" "Uh... just thinking that this shouldn't turn me on as much as it does." "Oh." Jaskier peeled back a little to catch Geralt's gaze and they both burst into silly giggles. Those faded quickly, however, when Jaskier bumped his nose against Geralt's and his breath caught in his throat. Geralt tilted his head forward and dared to claim a kiss. Then two. Then a million, all at once. They broke apart for another stupid burst of laughter. Reaching behind himself, Jaskier brushed the accumulated junk off the table, head incluced, and hopped on it, drawing Geralt between his legs. "My knight in shining armour," he sighed and kissed the corner of Geralt's mouth. "My beautiful princess," Geralt shot back. He had meant for it to come across as sarcastic, but it sounded more like a sweet declaration of surrender. "Thank you, love." "You're welcome." Geralt leaned down to kiss Jaskier properly, framing his face with both hands. They tangled up, got lost in each other, resurfaced only when Jaskier grew breathless. "Geralt?" "Hmm?" "We're still broke." Ah, fuck. Well. That was a concern for another day.

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8unnieswrld · 5 years ago

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Dialogue 35 & 43 + scenario 10 with Jaemin pleaseeee

Request 35 + 43: "how am i meant to cover these?" + "lol you're really gonna wine and dine me after rearranging my guts"

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff, angst (IF U SQUINT)

Warnings: ITS SUGGESTIVE, im honestly bad at smut and no lovely people on here deserve bad smut. That shit gotta be sensual or its a bad time...

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope its to your liking 💖 I will be crossing off each prompt as they are requested to avoid any double ups 💖

You had only known him for a couple of moths, max being generous.You groan loudly as you feel Jaemin’s warm body detach from yours causing goosebumps to rise to your skin.

“No no no no cold cold cold” you cry, pulling the blankets that were bundled at your feet over your body.

“Calm down baby, I'm just grabbing a warm cloth and some water for you” he whispers, placing a kiss on your forehead before exiting the room. You lay there patiently waiting for your “husband” to come back, slowly drifting off to sleep after having used all of your energy to keep up with Jaemins crazy sex drive.

In your 25 years or so of living, you had never even thought about the possibility of marrying someone introduced to you a week prior to your so-called wedding. It was such a foreign thought in your mind, clearly not for your parents or your husband’s though as they had no issue announcing it abruptly. It seemed unfair for your parents to even agree to letting their only daughter marry off into another family at such an early age, just to settle some family drama on their behalf. Jaemin was only a couple of years older than you, working in the same career field as you. You felt odd marrying someone who you had just technically met, not even able to harvest feelings for him beforehand. You didn't hate him or anything, you also just didn't know him all too well, feeling bad that he was also forced into this situation while at the top of his career.

Even though legally married you both had a very casual relationship, both not really committed enough to even call it one. However, due to yours and Jaemin’s crazy sex drive, after a night of very drunk talking you both agreed to relieve sexual tension with one another as a way to keep sane as you were both very stressed people. In the few months of living together, the blonde hair stranger turned into a pink hair friend who was now your good blue hair friend with benefits even though technically married to each other. The summer of your marriage changed like the colour of his hair into a cold winter as you both grew comfortable with each other, picking up one another's traits.

You feel the bed dip a bit, blanket shuffling slightly before a warm wet cloth is pressed between your legs causing you to jolt awake. You lift your head slightly looking at Jaemin clean you up while placing kisses on the inner of your thighs.

“Dont, that will only lead to another round” you warned, closing your legs on his head. Jaemin only chuckles as he moves his body to hover over yours placing a soft and gentle kiss on your lips.

Recently, Jaemin has become more intimate with you, even to the point of suggesting to move your stuff into his room since you were both married regardless. For sure he made your heart flutter, but there was a feeling of distrust locked in a box inside your heart. You knew it was possible to harbour feelings after getting to know one another, but a part of you made you doubt that, only choosing to believe that Jaemin was harbouring feelings out of convenience due to his age and career. Still, there was another part of your heart that began to light up whenever he was around you, hypocritical to your conflicting feelings.

You wrap your arms around Jaemin pulling him closer to you as his hand makes itself up to your stomach, lightly running the cloth over it cleaning any leftover cum that remains. He lays down beside you, pulling your head onto his extended arm. You shift slightly rolling onto your side as you hook your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he begins to clean your back.

“So I was thinking we would go to that fancy new place that opened up on the other side of town. You know the one on top of the hills that overlooks the city.” Jaemin mumbles, resting his head on the top of yours. “I heard they have a great selection of Italian reds.”

You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden remark, causing him to be tickled by your hot breath against his skin. Unable to control your laughter, you use every force in your body to roll over sitting up as Jaemin eyes you curiously, baffled as to why you were laughing so hard at such a normal question.

“What? Why are you laughing huh?” He chuckles awkwardly, still unsure as to why you were laughing at him.

“Lol are you seriously going to wine and dine me after you rearranged my guts for the past couple of hours” you laughed, gripping your stomach as you fell back onto the bed kicking your legs playfully.

Jaemin couldn't help but to smile as he sits up pulling your body closer to his before caging you in his arms falling back down on the bed.

“What? What's so wrong with wine and dining hmm?” Jaemin laughs, resting his head onto your exposed chest. Your laughter dies down as you wrap your arms around his head, causing him to be squished between your tits.

“Jaemin you know we’re not technically dating right? Why are you being so romantic all of a sudden” You whisper running your hands through his hair. Jaemin chuckles slightly, enjoying his face squished between your breasts.

“I mean...Y/N we’re technically married, shouldn't we at least act like it?” Jaemin mumbles, placing a few kisses in the centre of your chest. You felt your chest sting at his remark, biting your lip to stop yourself from tearing up. Confused as to why you weren't replying, Jaemin removes himself from your chest to look up at your face, instantly cupping it. “What's wrong? Was it something I said?” Jaemin coos, wrapping his arms around your head as you lose control over your tears allowing them to spill all over his exposed chest.

“Jaem...do you ever think that you only like me because we live together?” you whisper, rubbing his back slightly as you forced yourself not to continue to cry.

“Y/N…That's not it at all. I genuinely like you so much and I'm sorry if I'm not expressing that well enough but...the past few months of us living together, becoming friends, and then this...it's been amazing. You make me feel so warm inside, like substantial… you feel like home.” Jaemin mumbles, hugging you tighter as he presses kisses on top of your head. “I'm sorry that i haven't officially asked you out or anything...its just that we’re kind of technically married and i thought it’d be easier just to flow into it naturally…” You were about to reply but Jaemin takes a deep breath, pushing you lightly from his chest to look you in the eye.

“Y/N I think you’re super hot, you’re so supporting and smart and intuitive and kind…” He starts rambling, counting the traits he saw in you causing your ears to become red and flustered...even though you were both in bed naked as he confessed to you. “I think you’re amazing and I would be super upset if you started dating someone else and we got divorced because I have felt so much more happier after meeting you, like you were some saving grace!” He confesses, hugging you tightly once again. You felt your entire body flush red, from head to toe causing you to nervously sweat. “If you don't want to be my girlfriend, that's okay but i just want you to know that everything i just said are my real feelings...100%” Jaemin mumbles, staring into your eyes softly. You felt your heart race, unable to even face him properly are you pushed yourself away from him to sit up.

Putting on top he discarded the headboard over your body. You felt a shiver travel up your spine as your feet hit the cold wood floor.

“So it's a no….” Jaemin chuckles sadly, running a hand through his hair. You instantly turn around, facing him shocked to your core at the words that had left his mouth.

“No, Jaem...i'm getting out of bed to get ready for our first official date.” You reply, completely panicked that his mind went instantly to rejection. Was the idea of you leaving him what held him back from confessing to you?

Jaemins face instantly brightens as he quickly gets out of bed to run over to you, engulfing you in a tight hug as he peppered kisses all over your face. “I knew you had a crush on me, Y/N you’re so fucking cute!” He sings happily, waddling you to the bathroom in his arms as you felt tears flood the brim of your eyes, tears of self inflicted anger, sadness and joy.

Flicking on the bathroom light, you shriek, causing Jaemin to snap out of his state of ecstasy to look at you worriedly. You hit him lightly, huffing as you stare at the dark red and purple patches littered all over your neck in absolute disbelief.

“How am i meant to hide these?!” You cry, pulling the collar of his shirt down to reveal even more. Jaemin only laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his head on top of yours.

“Don't hide them, they’re pretty” he states, staring at you through the mirror before blinking innocently before tightening his hug on you, returning to his own happy world. Jaemin was esatic, feeling as if all of his wishes were finally granted after pouring his heavy heart out onto you, in hopes of progressing your relationship with one another.

“You’re so cuteeeeee!” Jaemin yells cathartically, rocking you side to side like a child squeezing

a soft toy. You could only sigh as a response, returning his hug as he happily chatted your ear off about how happy he was in that very moment.

Jaemin stops speaking momentarily causing you both to stare at each other in the mirror, before bursting out into laughter as Jaemin pushes you to sit on the toilet running a warm bath for you both.

“You better be helping me apply concealer to this before we leave” you laugh, splashing the water up at Jaemin.

“Of course, anything for you”

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rainandhotchocolate · 5 years ago

Text

The girl next door

A/N ok yes it’s technically 1am but fk u all its STILL DAY 6 IN MY MIND anyway this is a !muggle reader x James fic, the classic girl next door trope :)) Enjoy lovelies!

The girl next door

James watched from his window as a bright red car rolled up into the driveway next to his. The house next door was relatively similar to his own, a classic Victorian terrace with a balcony overlooking the front lawn and the back garden. James’ parents hadn’t changed the decorations much, wanting to keep it in line with muggle stereotypes as much as possible, not draw attention to themselves unnecessarily. The most they had added were two rocking chairs out on the front porch for them to watch the neighbourhood pass around them, doing muggle things.

James’ next-door neighbours, however, had done the exact opposite. Whilst they had to keep the front façade, heritage or some odd muggle council thing, they had painted the front a deep-sea blue, the door was porcelain white to match the balcony. Hanging down across the painted walls was lush ivory which vined its way across the façade and up the edge of the balcony, meeting a row of blueberry and raspberry plants that had never really sprouted. From James’ bedroom, he could see into the back of the house and garden, completely renovated so that there were large windows covering the kitchen and living space and led out into a complete mess of a garden, a huge oak tree in the middle, daisy’s and honeysuckles covering the grassy surrounding it.

When James was young, he used to watch with envy at the large tyre that was tied to the edge of the tree, watching the couple swing their young daughter higher and higher into the tree. He wondered if it was the closest thing muggle’s felt to flying.

He first met the girl next door when he was 8, when Euphemia and Fleamont had brought around a large pudding to greet the new neighbours. They had ushered them in, the woman wearing an oversized pair of overalls and covered in paint, the man in jeans and a jumper, holding the newspaper in one hand as he led them into the kitchen.

“We have a daughter around the same age as James.” He remembered them saying to his parents whilst he looked around at the brightly coloured utensils hanging around the kitchen.

“Y/N!” At her mum’s yell, Y/N came skidding through the open doorway, sliding further than she expected in her socks on the smooth wooden floorboards and grabbing hold of James to slow down.

“She’s a bit of a wild one, our Y/N,” her dad had said, grinning down at her as Y/N gave James an apologetic grimace, “Why don’t you show James the yard?”

She grabbed James’ hand and pulled him out the large back door, which was also a window, and led him towards the tree.

“This is a fairy tree, they like to sleep here at night, but if you’re lucky you might get to see one,” She winked, a piece of her curly dark hair falling into her face. She tried to blow it off with the corner of her mouth before shaking it off her face. She was wearing a bright pink dress, James remembered because he wondered whether she was going to ruin it as she grabbed hold of the tree branch and swung herself up and onto it.

“Come on! What are you staring for?”

“Nothing, coming,” He’d grinned up at her and pulled himself up, joining her on the large tree. They’d jumped around it for an hour before his parents came back into the yard and brought him home.

Being an only child, James took any opportunity he could do have her over or vice versa when she was bored and wanted someone to hoist her onto the tallest branch.

“I can see the whole way to London from here!”

“You bloody cannot,” James snorted, tickling the inside of her leg so she jolted forwards, having to grab hold of the branch in front to steady herself.

“Oi!”

“That’s what you get for lying,” James giggled as she tried to reach down and poke him, but she was too high up.

“Come up here so I can get you back.”

“Not even if Merlin was up there,” James danced around the trunk of the tree, avoiding her foot as it dangled, trying to find his head.

“What, like King Arthur? Stop moving! I promise I won’t hit you I’m just trying to get down,” Y/N held her leg still until James sighed and moved over so she could use his shoulders to climb back down. She hit him across the arm the moment she landed on a thick branch, her lip curling brazenly.

“You are so dead,” James growled at her, chasing her across the tree branches, watching Y/N giggle loudly as he got closer until he could tackle her onto the grass in a heap.

When they got older, well mostly when James went to a ‘faraway very boring nothing to talk about’ boarding school they drifted apart. It was natural enough, they still saw each other on break, chatting about their classes and friends. On Christmas eve, Fleamont and Euphemia would invite all the neighbours around for scones and tea and Y/N would sneak some chocolate for James and herself to share in the garden, watching the stars. When they turned 14, it was a bottle of wine from her parents tiny under the floorboards cellar and they giggled for hours as the wine made James feel light-headed and flushed and like he could do bloody well anything.

When the parents had moved into the sitting room for whiskey (well it was firewhiskey with the label hidden), James and Y/N had stolen a blanket so they could keep lying on the grass as the snow began to fall on their heads. James turned to look at her, face flushed from both the bottle of red wine and freezing air, eyes wide and twinkling as she looked up at the stars, a look of awe on her face. Snow had begun to land on her eyebrows and hair, sparkling brightly against her pale skin and dark curls in a halo around her head.

“Snow has got to be the prettiest thing on earth,” She’d said sitting up and looking across the garden as it settled in the grass and leaves. James was still staring at her and she gave him a funny look in return. “What?”

“You look so beautiful with snow in your hair.” James wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking or himself but without giving it a second thought he leaned in and kissed her, softly, his heartbeat rising in his chest.

He’d pulled back slowly, watching Y/N’s mouth make a small ‘o’ and her whole body freeze momentarily.

“I’m sorry, it… must be the alcohol, I didn’t mean – “

“No it’s fine I just – “

“Why don’t we go back inside?” James’ heart was racing, his head catching up to himself. You bloody idiot.

“Oh, yeah ok.” James had given her a hand standing up, and they’d both walked back inside in silence, brushing the snow from their hair and shoulders.

Since then, things had never really gone back to normal. James focused all his romantic energy on Lily, Lily who would scowl as he walked past and became infuriated by the smallest of prods, but wouldn’t make him feel like he did that Christmas Eve. Hollow.

The next Christmas break, Sirius turned up on their doorstep, bruises covering every inch of visible skin, blood dripping down his lip and staining the side of his thin long-sleeve top.

“Hey… mate,” He spluttered when James pulled open the door, freezing up when he saw Sirius’ state.

“Sirius, Merlin, are you ok, get inside come on, MUM! DAD!” He yelled towards the stairs before reaching out and grabbing Sirius as he went to collapse on the front doorstep. They didn’t have anyone over for Christmas eve that year, Sirius still sickly thin, the fading bruises still deep blues and purples splaying across his face and legs. Sirius sat up with James all night talking about next years Quidditch cup and the best way to get a date for the first Hogsmeade weekend back, James continually flicking his eyes towards the bedroom window where lights were still on.

“Am I not as interesting as the darkness,” Sirius threw a pillow at him when James outright didn’t respond to Sirius’ question about how much frogs spawn was too much frogs spawn.

“Oh sorry, what?”

“What are you looking at?” Sirius narrowed his eyes, a smile creeping onto his face.

“Nothing, it’s nothing- “ But Sirius had already jumped out of the bed, masking his pain with a grimace and was limping over to the window. He gazed out, pushing James to the side as he tried to close the blinds, looking over into Y/N’s house.

“Ahhh, of course! I guess a hot girl is more interesting than I am,” Sirius snorted, still watching, “Ooo, a taken girl, much less interesting.”

“What?” Forgetting all pretence of composure, he hopped out of bed and rushed over to the window. He could see Y/N leaning up against the wall, smiling at something out of view. That something quickly returned, as a tall curly haired boy who lifted her up in the air and kissed her passionately. James felt something in his gut twist. He turned away quickly from the window, sitting back on his bed, determined to look calm.

“And here I was thinking that Lily was the only one for you huh?” Sirius grinned widely, prodding James, “Come on, there’s a million girls out there, I promise we can find you someone just like that.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow when James didn’t reply. He sat back on the bed and watched him, letting the silence hang.

“She was my first kiss.” James had said. He’d never really admitted that before. They didn’t really talk about that kind of stuff, more like what they could do, will do. Sirius remained silent, gripping one hand on James’ knee.

Y/N hopped out of the red car, opening the boot to help her parents get out the rest of the shopping bags and bring them into the house. Sirius wasn’t awake yet, and James was indulging himself by watching her smile up at her dad who had likely told a really terrible joke about fishing. The door closed and James found himself wandering back to his bedroom, wondering if she would go to her room and read or listen to music or something. Maybe she would look up to where his window was too, looking for him. James rolled his eyes at himself, shaking his head. Stop being such a sap.

Then he froze. Standing at the side of their house was Sirius, looking up at James and waving fervently, smiling like an absolute dick. He saw him exaggerate waggling his eyebrows and mime walking up to the front door.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” James mouthed at him, giving him the finger and trying to swat him away from the house. Sirius grinned wider and walked out of James’ vision. James sprinted back to the living room banging on the window loudly as Sirius walked up to Y/N’s front door and knocked. James stopped banging immediately as her mum answered the door and craned forwards, desperately wishing he could hear through glass. She brought him into the house and closed the door.

When Sirius returned James jumped him.

“What the FUCK,” He hissed, eyes flashing at Sirius who continued to look very satisfied with himself.

“Oh, calm down, I didn’t do anything too wild,” He winked, making his way to the kitchen, forcing James to follow him in a huff.

“You need to tell me exactly what you did.”

“I just invited her over – “

“What? Why? She doesn’t even know you!”

“For a little party we are having,” Sirius continued as if James hadn’t just spat a little in his face.

“Party?”

“Just a small thing, it will be fine. I’ve already cleared it with your parents!” He grinned as James went to tackle him.

As it so happens, Sirius (for once) was actually telling the truth and had only invited a small group of people from Hogwarts who lived around London and had gone home for Christmas. Marlene arrived first, holding a bottle of firewhiskey and a wild grin, followed closely by Alice and Frank who brought mince pies, and Remus and Peter who had brought a selection of sweets from their parents. They were sitting in the front living room exploding snap when the doorbell rang. James sprung up, flattening out his shirt pedantically.

“You really weren’t lying Pads,” Remus shook his head at James, “He’s smitten.”

“I told you,” Sirius sang, chuckling as James gave him daggers.

“Ok please, she doesn’t know we are wizards so please tame down the whole… fact that we are wizards.”

“Well said, Prongs,” Remus gave him a small clap.

“Oh, shut it the lot of you.”

“James are you going to get the door?” Euphemia called from the kitchen.

“Yes, mum, I’m going now!”

“Hurry up, she might leave,” Marlene winked at James but he ignored her, moving down the hallway a little too quickly, having to stop himself from slipping into the door in his socks.

Ok, calm down, it’s just a lowkey Christmas hang, nothing to worry about. Chill.

He took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face, swinging open the door. Y/N was standing in the cold, covered in a large fluffy coat, arms tucked inside to keep warm.

“Finally, I thought you’d forgotten about me,” Y/N smiled up at him and James felt his entire pep talk get thrown out the window as he remembered how her how face scrunched up when she smiled and it made his heart jump. He silently thanked the stars when he heard Sirius slid up beside him.

“You came! James has told us all about you, come in come in,” Sirius elbowed James subtly, and James opened the door wider so she could step inside.

“Looks like you haven’t changed a thing,” Y/N stepped out of her wet boots and looked around the hallway.

“I honestly think I’d be worried if it had, my parents might have gone mad,” James felt himself fall back into the easy rhythm of conversation with Y/N as he led her back into the living room, Sirius on their tails.

“So this is a bunch of people from school, Marlene, Alice, Frank, Remus, Peter, and well you must have met Sirius this afternoon?”

“Yes! So nice to meet you all, and actually put faces to names,” Y/N beamed around at them all, finding a place beside Remus on the floor.

“He talks about us?” Marlene made a loud gasp.

“I’m shocked,” Alice shook her head in mock amazement.

“You all suck,” James hissed at them, quickly returning to his previously plastered smile state, “We were just playing cards. Do you know any good games?”

They continued playing cards, Marlene sneaking them sips of Firewhiskey when they were sure that James’ parents weren’t about to come and drop in another bout of snacks, with only one minor mishap with the cards when Frank slammed too hard on two similar cards resulting in Remus spinning Y/N around as a card exploded.

“What the hell was that noise?” Y/N looked disorientated, blinking vehemently.

“Car backfiring,” Marlene smiled, her eyes still slightly panicked. Frank was mouthing I’m sorry to James as he quickly wiped down the table with his hand.

“Right…” Y/N still looked confused but dropped the topic. Alice yawned loudly, stretching out her back on the soft carpet behind her.

“I’m actually getting super tired, might head off?” She turned to ask Frank, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, I have to be home before 12 anyway, my parents love Christmas,” He grinned at James, sending him a sly wink. James rolled his eyes, praying that Y/N didn’t see.

“Well if you’re heading, I might… catch a ride,” Marlene held back a laugh as she attempted a muggle phrase.

“Uh, yeah, sounds good,” Alice poked her in the ribs, shooting her a look to shut up. They all stood up, Marlene grabbing the bottle of firewhiskey and putting it back in her bag.

“Sorry boys, and Y/N, you’ll have to live without for the rest of the evening.”

“Fine with me, it tasted way different to anything I’ve ever stolen from my parents,” Y/N laughed, smiling warmly up at Marlene. James wanted to hug her. Or something. Perhaps he was getting delirious.

They waved goodbye, leaving the house before apparating together away, James cringing when he heard the loud crack!

Sirius kicked Remus in the leg and gave Y/N a smile.

“Would you like a hot cocoa? Remus makes the best, I can help him find the ingredients.”

“I don’t think she want –“ James started, feeling increasingly panicked. He hoped his eyes accurately said don’t fucking leave me alone I’m a mess.

“I’d love one!” Y/N cut him off and Sirius’ smile widened.

“Perfect, come on Remus,” He pulled him up, Remus giving James an apologetic smile before following Sirius out of the room. A silence fell over the two of them, and James found himself beginning to stress over whether it was comfortable or if he should interrupt it or if that would make it seem like they couldn’t just hang out in silence anymore and would that be worse?

Thankfully, Y/N spoke first.

“Your friends seem nice,” She was leaning back on her hands, looking up at him with her y/e/c eyes.

“They’re a bit mental, but in a good way,” James chuckled, fixing his hair unconsciously. Y/N laughed loudly when she saw his hand ruffle through his already messy hair.

“You always do that when you’re nervous.”

“I’m no-“

“Oh shush, I’m nervous too… it’s been a while I guess.”

“Yeah… I guess it has.”

“I broke up with Dan – my boyfriend last month,” She avoided his eyes now, leaning forward. James saw her face flush slightly but didn’t say anything, pretending not to notice. “The first thing I wanted to do was come over and lie in your garden and just forget about it but you were at school and we hadn’t really spoken since… well, you know.”

“Yeah,” James replied dumbly, wincing at his lack of conversational aptitude.

“I just, miss you, you know?”

“Yeah, I miss you too. I pulled the best prank on one of our teachers and I just wanted to send you an o- letter, but I didn’t know if, you wanted to hear from me I guess,” He laughed awkwardly, reaching for his hair but stopping himself.

“I’m sorry for running out on you like that it was, well it was my first kiss.”

“Mine too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really, what do you think I am, Casanova?” James snorted at her and she grinned sheepishly.

“I don’t know, you were always talking about girls from school, especially um, Lily? I just presumed that it was something you did.”

James laughed properly now, a large booming laugh he hadn’t felt in a while. It felt good to talk to her again, even if it was vaguely awkward small talk.

“I honestly am the worst with girls. I think everyone presumes I’m some smooth mover and then doesn’t talk to me.”

“Well obviously, if you’re calling yourself a smooth mover,” She joined in, her face scrunching up as she laughed at him.

“Oh, fuck off,” James threw a pillow at her, but she just laughed harder, blocking her face and letting it fall to the ground.

“I had a massive crush on you, you know.” She spoke quickly, like she’d been holding it in and let it out all in one breath. James stared at her, momentarily stunned.

“So, your answer me kissing you was to splutter and run away?” James teased, unsure whether this was still a casual conversation or not. His heart was beating in his throat and he swallowed hard.

“I was 14, give me a bit of credit, I was having a mini heart attack,” She gave a soft chuckle, but also looked increasingly uncomfortable, swinging back and forwards on the floor.

“You were the one who got me drunk!”

“Ahh so you’re going to blame it on the alcohol huh?” She gave a knowing nod, her lip curling cheekily.

“I will give some credit to the alcohol for giving me certain encouragements.”

“Fair enough.”

A silence fell over them again, but this time James felt calmer, like a weight had been lifted from his chest and allowed him to look her in the eye again.

“I am sorry I didn’t respond how one should have responded,” She cringed at herself as she spoke.

“Ahh, don’t stress about it. Honestly I don’t know what I would have done if you had just sprung that one me either.”

“Mmm,” Y/N simply hummed in response, her head crooked to one side.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You are the worst fucking liar.”

She huffed at him, tucking a curl behind her ear. James watched her hand carefully. He wondered what it would feel like to do that for her, to graze the edge of her cheek, cup her chin.

“I guess… I guess I was just wondering,” She bit her lip and James resisted the urge to stare at it. “How you would have reacted.”

James felt his whole body stop. He forced himself to nod in reply, suddenly very aware of how alone they were. And how easy it would be to just lean down…

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“Cocoa!” James could have killed Sirius in that exact moment, and by the expression that dawned on Sirius’ face, he could tell.

“Oh shoot, I should really get home, I promised mum I’d help wrap dad’s presents before tomorrow morning!” Y/N had checked her watch and stood quickly, brushing the mince pie crumbs from her skirt. “I’ll, er, see you soon?”

“Yeah, yeah of course, I’ll bring by some treacle tart tomorrow,” James led her to the door and watched as she got home safely. He closed the door and immediately banged his head against it.

Sirius and Remus were staring furiously at him when he returned to the living room and sunk into the couch, feeling more depressed than anyone should on Christmas Eve.

“HOW COULD YOU NOT KISS HER!” Sirius whispered and yelled simultaneously, not wanting to wake up James’ parents.

“It really is poor form, mate,” Remus agreed, sipping on a mug of cocoa.

“I think I’m just going to die here now. Forever. Please leave me to mull in my failures.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up next to James’ face.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think we’d let you give up this easily.”

In a matter of minutes, the three boys had pulled on boots and jackets over their trackpants and snuck quietly out the front door and around the side of the house. They reached Y/N’s window slowly, careful not to make any noise that would have any neighbour poking their heads out the window and seeing three boys sneaking towards a girls bedroom window in the middle of the night. Not the best look.

“Ok, the lights are still on in her room, she said she was helping wrap presents. This is your moment!”

“This is stalking,” James hissed back, his stomach clenching. This was so so so stupid. And yet, the thought of surprising her, her big toothy smile at the window, and likely the firewhiskey, made him continue to follow Sirius. Remus walked behind, checking to see if anyone was watching.

“We will keep watch, go!” Remus pushed James forward lightly so that he was standing directly in front of it. He didn’t move, just watched the light flicker against the curtains.

“I can’t do this –“

“Shut up!” Sirius and Remus both hissed back. Sirius leaned forward and knocked on the window, immediately hiding on the right side of the wall, Remus on the left.

“You fucking – Y/N! Hey!”

Y/N had pulled back the curtains cautiously, opening them fully when she saw who it was.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered back, eye flickering to her door and then back to James who was now shivering slightly in the snow.

“I… well I was just thinking about what you said and…” He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. She was examining him closely, expression unreadable. “I was thinking that you never got to see my reaction…”

He wanted to bang his head against her window. Maybe he would pass out and could pretend this was all a sleepwalking episode or something. She continued to watch him for a second before she snorted loudly.

“Fuck, I am so sorry I just thought, I’ll leave,” James closed his eyes for a second, clenching his fists by his sides. He was going to stab Remus and Sirius in their sleeps for ever suggesting this.

It happened so quickly James wasn’t actually sure it did happen. With his eyes still shut, he suddenly felt something soft press slowly against his lips. His eyelids flickered open quickly, just in time to see Y/N pull away, a small smile on his face.

“I… oh.”

“You’re right, that was a reaction worth witnessing.” She looked a little giddy, though James was sure he looked ten times happier.

“I mean I’m definitely happy with it.”

“Good.” She bit her lip again, pausing for a second before continuing, “What are you doing on boxing day?”

“Nothing,” James replied very quickly.

“Pick me up at 10.”

“Ok.”

“I should probably actually get some sleep tonight.” Y/N giggled, her eyes shining bright against the moonlight.

“Yes, of course, sleep well, Y/N.”

“You too James.”

Y/N looked at him for another moment before closing her blinds with a wave.

James turned around on the spot, moving away from where Y/N would be able to hear him and jumping in the air, a fist in the air.

“Fucking YES.”

“Finally,” Sirius punched him in the arm, flanked by Remus who beamed at him.

“I’m glad this worked, the next thing was storming the place and telling her you were in love with her.”

“Very glad it didn’t come to that.”

“I’m not, I’ve always wanted to storm a house,” Sirius replied pensively, putting an arm around Remus and James, “But I’ll settle for this.”

Advent: @maraudersandco @gollyderek

All fics: @hermione-is-my-queen

James tags: @blackpinkdolan @blushingskywalker @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @katbernoulli @sirius-lysad @cherrie511 @siriuslyjanhvi @aikeia @evyiione @minerva26love @your-typical-giggle

#rainandhotchocolate #james x reader #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x !muggle reader #!muggle reader #James potter fanfiction #marauders imagine

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queenofeden · 5 years ago

Photo

my contributions to @lovelikeyoursfest for the first prompt, “the start of something new”. these are technically both excerpts from longer in-progress fics featuring my apprentice, laurel, but they happened to fit the theme so well i thought at least part of them deserved to see the light of day. consider this a teaser for my future works if u find urself interested~

chronologically, nadia comes first, julian can be found under the cut

Nadia & Laurel

January, 5 years ago

The whole of Vesuvia thrums with the energy of the masquerade, like one large body set to motion at last after a long winter. The lights, the reeling crowds, they pulse and pump as they make their way along the arterial canals, upwards, always upwards, to the highest reach of the city -- to the beating heart of it all -- the palace. Laurel catches Asra’s hand in her own, dragging him along, or he her, or perhaps they simply get swept away together by the throng, laughter bubbling on her lips for what feels like the first time in months.

Try as one might, it is easy to get separated once the party truly takes hold of the palace. The hoi polloi of Vesuvia clamor towards the offered food and drink, while the elite swan about and entertain themselves with chatter and gossip. It is not with intent that she loses track of Asra somewhere past the room full of enchanted, talking statuary. One moment he is there, and the next he is not, the space he once occupied at her side now taken up by three bustling women in matching silver gowns and masks done up like swans, all vying for entry into the room. It matters little to Laurel. Asra will find her eventually, when he cares to be found himself. He always does, somehow, whether she cares for him to or not.

There is little intent to where she wanders, keen to let herself be drawn wherever the whims of the party may take her. She knows there is something surrounding her -- a pall of grief, though it seems too melodramatic a sentiment. It is a palpable, invisible thing about her nonetheless. People walk around her, unsure of why, rowdy drunkards don't dare to jostle or bump her. Her own personal never-mind-me spell, cast without intent simply by virtue of existing. Their disinterest rankles, but she shoves the ill-feeling down deep. It's not them she's here for, anyway. A tall glass of fizzing wine makes its way into her hand, plucked deftly from a passing servant’s platter, and she carries it along in her gloved hand, sipping occasionally, leaving a smear of bright red along the rim of the glass from her painted lips.

The heavy press of the party lessens as she finds herself on the veranda, the roar in her ears fading, carried away on the cool evening breeze. It chills her overheated skin, bare beneath only a few thin layers of chiffon and satin, and she relishes the prickle of gooseflesh it leaves in its wake like a kiss. She takes her glass and drains the last of the golden wine too quickly, and trades it for another -- something pink and dangerously sugared this time. This too she finishes in a few deep gulps, setting the empty glass back onto the bemused servant's tray and taking another before they have time to even move away. Alone, save for the alcohol that burns in her too empty stomach, she wanders the less crowded gardens, full of others who have little interest in being found. She hums along to a familiar tune as she passes through a faint cloud of sound, drifting over the tops of the immaculately trimmed hedge walls.

She feels sweet with wine and song, the lightest she has felt all year. Here, the sounds and smells, the anonymous, whirling multitude of bodies-- they keep out what Laurel would rather forget. Here there is no responsibility, no pitying glances from familiar patrons, none of Asra's well-intentioned saccharine condolences. No one knows her here, not behind the gilt painted mask. She is hardly herself, if she wants not to be, and oh how desperately she craves the chance to not be herself, if only for just a little while. That is the true magic of the Count’s masquerade, something far more powerful than what she could throw together in a mortar at home and call such. She is only the swell of the music. It lifts her slippered feet, carrying her in some semblance of dance as she walks the cobbled path, eyes closed in what would feel almost like joy, if she could remember the feeling.

There is no one on the path with her, no one to see her dizzy, stumbling attempt at a coranto, so when her body meets something else -- someone else, the slide of a silk gown against her bare arms -- her eyes snap open, and she stumbles backward with an embarrassed curse.

"Shit! Sorry, so sorry."

Laurel lifts her gaze, expecting to see the heated glare of whomever she'd been unlucky enough to plow into. What she does not expect is the countess -- The Countess -- blinking back at her with equal amounts of surprise.

With a choked sort of squeak, Laurel drops immediately into her best, lowest curtsy, knees creaking and head bowed so low her mask threatens to slip straight off her nose.

"O-oh, My Lady Countess, forgive me! Please forgive me!"

Her heart hammers in her chest. The Countess! Of all people to drunkenly stumble into! The count would likely have her head for daring lay a hand, however accidental, on his beloved wife. Or perhaps the countess herself would ask him to cut off her wicked, clumsy feet instead as a mercy.

Less likely was the countess's voice -- rich and deep and rolling over her like sweet molasses -- saying softly, "It’s quite alright. Please stand."

Laurel blinks, straightening her spine in fractions, giving ample time should the countess deign to change her mind and command her to sprawl, prostrate in the dirt, at her feet instead. She doesn't. Eventually, Laurel is able to lift her chin and look the -- only slightly -- taller woman in the eye for the first time.

She had known the countess was beautiful, much in the way that people knew the sky was blue, the grass grew green, and the south was a frigid waste, an immutable fact. People spoke often of her features in the market, lauding the beauty of her violet hair, her striking, crimson eyes, her high, royal brow. More so, she knew it to be true by the simple truth that vain Count Lucio would never settle for less. What few memories she has -- a parade, swirling streamers in the air; the profile of a distant woman, nestled like an idol on a float of white roses and purple hyacinth -- are clouded by time and distance. She had pieced her together that first year, vague impressions and gossip and distant glances in the town square where she deigned to appear. Vesuvia's very own princess had crossed her mind very little after that.

This close, close enough to smell her sweet jasmine of her perfume, to count the faint few freckles on her bare shoulders, Countess Nadia is more lovely than Laurel could have ever imagined.

Laurel's gaping leaves her uncharacteristically silent, but the countess seems to recover first. Likely she's used to filling stunned silence.

"How is that you found me here?" she asks, a faint tinge of pink across her nose, though whether it is from embarrassment or anger Laurel cannot gauge.

Laurel glances around, taking in the tall topiaries that surround them. “I-- where is here, exactly?”

Julian & Laurel

Late September, 5 years ago

The first time she arrives at his clinic, Julian doesn’t yet know that he should turn the woman he would come to know as Laurel Lobban away. She comes to his clinic like most regular patients, in a hurried flurry of skirts, eyes bright — not red, thankfully, the sclera a clear, healthy white with irises of sky blue — sharp with an edge of desperation. Perhaps a family member was sick, a spouse, or sister. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had dragged him from his clinic in the misty, early hours of pre-dawn with their pleas.

He lets the woman in — his first mistake — and leads her to the small table in the corner where he offers her a perfunctory cup of poorly brewed coffee or tea, though she doesn’t look to be in any particular need of it. There is a tension to her body, ratcheted tight as a halyard line. If plucked she might sing, high and sweet like the E string of his vielle, but that could also be his third cup of coffee before sunrise talking. From over her nose and mouth, she pulls down her paisley patterned scarf to reveal full but drawn lips, chewed raw and near bleeding. She stretches and bunches the fabric in her hands, twisting it into knots.

“You’re the doctor, then, yes?” she asks, squinting up at him. “Doctor Devorak? The one everyone talks about?”

A grin, black and bitter as the lingering taste of coffee in his throat, spreads his lips thin at that. “Well, now, that depends. What do the people say?”

The woman watches him, eyes canny as a hawk, flitting between his features, sizing him up. “They say you help people, that you don’t overcharge like the hacks in the heart district do.” She sniffs with derision then, nose crinkling up, though whether at the thought of his colleagues uptown or the smell of something in the room, he cannot tell. Astringent probably, he had just cleaned his tools for the day. Often he forgets how strong the smell can be to those far less nose blind than he. She coughs delicately, like she’s trying to suppress a gag. “They say you’re a good man.”

Ah, well, hm. Julian can’t say he’s heard that one before. ‘Foul, beaked harbinger of misery’ yes, ‘heartless bastard’ sure, ‘utter fool’ sometimes, but good man? Compliments were not something many of his patients or their families had on their minds once he was around. Her words settle like a heavy stone in his near empty stomach. This close, with her looking at him just so, her eyes are less so the color of summer. Darker, near navy, paling into a grey to match his own with a flash of almost-barely-there yellow at the center, like a brewing sky at sea -- one set to storm and tear him to pieces any moment, the look of them setting his sailor’s intuition on edge. He ignores them, words and eyes both.

“And are you in need of my help then?” he asks, stepping away to rifle through his curio cabinet, stuffed to bursting with jars of tinctures and salves. “You don’t look beplagued, perhaps some other malady? Allergies? A fungus?”

A loud, nearly surprised, scoff. “I don’t have a fungus,” she asserts with umbrage.

He feels his cheeks heat, grateful that his head is buried in the cabinet and not on view of her no doubt scrutinizing gaze. “Of course not, of course not, so sorry. I didn’t intend any offense miss-- ah, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“Laurel, Laurel Lobban.”

She’s right behind him again. He jumps, knocking the shelves with a wayward elbow as he turns. Her hand is held out to shake, and he takes it with mild surprise. Her grip is firm, no nonsense, but she squeezes a little too hard just before she lets go in a way that lets him know how intentional, how controlled those reads he took of her were. He would see nothing of her that she didn’t want him to, that much he could tell.

“Laurel Lobban,” he repeats, rolling the matching consonants on his tongue. “Laurel, laurus nobilis, lauraceae, like the plant,” he rambles, finishing rather dumbly. She snorts.

“Yes... like the plant. Are you all right, doctor?”

Was he all right? Maybe that third coffee had been a bad idea. “Fine, fine. Though I would be more fine if I knew what I could help you with, Miss Lobban. Hard to diagnose if I don’t know what ails you.”

“I don’t — ” she sighs, frustration warring across her features. “I’m not sick. I’m not here for some tincture. I — I want to work with you.”

He laughs. It was the wrong thing to do, by the telling darkening of her expression, the subtle shift in her jaw as she clearly clenches her teeth. He can’t help it though. It trails off, nervously, his stance shifting from one leg to the other. Whatever you do next, proceed with caution, Ilya.

“Work? Work here?” Nailed it.

“Do you work elsewhere?”

“I — no. This is it,” he replies, gesturing weakly at the single, cramped room, with it’s tiny storage closet and its rickety loft where he keeps his private office which is little more than a second closet. Why would anyone want to work here? With him?

“Then yes, here. With you.”

That he didn’t like.

“And do you ah — do you have any medical expertise then?”

She frowns. There’s a knot of lines between her brows that would be cute, almost endearing, in any other situation than this. Her cheeks flush pink. “Well, no. I mean I’ve read a few books, but… I had hoped you would take me on as an apprentice.”

His mouth falls open, spluttering. He weaves around her so that he’s no longer pinned, like a bug to a board, between her expectant gaze and the cabinet. “Unfortunately Miss Lobban, I’m not equipped to take on apprentices at this time. You see, I’m — well, the fact of the matter is — ”

Stop it. Stop talking.

“There are plenty of other doctors who would take you on, I’m certain.” Who? It doesn’t matter. Doctors who aren’t me. Why would anyone want to learn from a failure who couldn’t even cure his patients, anyway? What could he possibly have to offer an apprentice?

“I don’t want those doctors. They say you’re the best in the city, I want to work with the best.”

The best. Julian bites back another fit of laughter. Grinning — baring his teeth really — instead. “Now now, flattery won’t change my mind.”

She’s followed him again, standing as close behind him as she dares while he flits about the room, restless with nervous energy.

“If I was flattering you, doctor, you would know.”

Had he been this insistent when he’d come to Nazali the first time? Almost certainly, if the stories he’d heard oft repeated are true. How had they put up with him, and not thrown him out on his ear? The simple answer is that they are a much better doctor, a better person, than he. Nazali had discovered the plague, had made the greatest strides in its classification, its treatment, yet. And what had he done with their teachings? Squandered it all. Sat by and watched as patient after patient came to him for help, had plied them with false comforts, and in the end had done nothing, save for ease them into their inevitable deaths. He should tell her that. Should count out his many failures for her like he does for himself every night in place of sheep. Certainly that would frighten her away.

What he says instead is this: “Have you ever watched someone die?”

Her mouth goes slack, obviously taken aback by his question. For a moment he sees the fear flash across her eyes, but quick as it came it's replaced by something else. Something harder. She licks her lips and smiles, lips wobbling at the edges. "Do you ask all the girls that, or am I just special?"

He keeps his gaze hard, until the slight upturn of her lips collapses into a frown.

“Surely that can’t be a prerequisite for the job.”

“On the contrary,” Julian replies, nerves solidifying. “Humor me.”

Laurel’s eyes slide sideways. “No,” she says carefully, chewing over her words. “Though death and I are no strangers.”

Julian takes a deep breath, a brief flare of pain in his chest for having been the cause of the dark shadows that crossed over her features at that admission. He rakes a hand through his curls, shoving them away from his face, where they stay for a moment, before flopping back into his eyes.

“So you have lost someone?” he asks, though it is less question and more statement of fact.

Her gaze flicks back to him, sharp and pointed as the tip of a blade. “Hasn’t everyone in Vesuvia by now?” she asks him cooly.

Julian at least has the grace to look chagrined, feeling the heat of one of his telltale flushes burning under his collar. “I suppose you have a point there.”

“I don’t relish the thought of death, Doctor Devorak, if that’s your concern.” Laurel grips the strap of her bag tightly, staring up at him, imploring. “And I’ve no agenda, I assure you. I simply want to find some way to help.”

It is that moment that the door of the clinic swings open, the sharp RANG-CLANG-CLANG of the bell startling the both of them. A barrel-chested man heaves in the doorway, face shining, slick with sweat as he gasps, hands on his knees.

“Doctor! Doctor please, my husband he — “

Immediately, something shifts in Julian. One moment he is himself, good old Ilya Devorak. The next he is simply Doctor, parts within himself shuttering closed as others open, the whole of him changing as instinct takes over, just as it had every instant before a battle when the quiet set in and he and Nazali knew the first wave of bodies would soon hit; the calm before the storm, captured entirely within himself like a model ship trapped in a bottle.

“On it!” he barks, grabbing his overcoat and mask from their hooks with practiced ease, already making long strides towards the door before Laurel’s voice cuts through the quiet roar of his thoughts.

“Doctor please!” she all but hisses, chasing after him with stubborn steps. “I need — let me do something, anything!”

With a sigh, Julian reaches out and fixes the scarf about her neck back over her nose and mouth before placing his own mask over his face. Safe behind red glass, he cannot see the piercing blue of her eyes anymore, no longer at risk of being swept away by the violent current of her.

He takes her by the arm, and gently but firmly leads her to the door, past the panicked man who dumbly, silently, follows them out onto the street at Julian’s other hand. The rosy tendrils of pre-dawn light are barely making their way across the sky, the cobbles beneath their feet still heavy with morning fog yet to be burned away by the heat of the day. With a deft flick of his wrist, Julian switches the crude sign on the door front from ‘IN’ to ‘OUT’. When he turns back, Laurel still lingers under the halo of lantern light, hem of her skirts dancing around her ankles as she shifts anxiously from foot to foot.

“I — ”

“Go home, Miss Lobban,” he says, voice half muffled, mouth filling with the cloying scents of camphor and dried roses. “Truly, the best you can do for anyone is to not find yourself here again.”

With that Julian turns and follows the snuffling man where he leads, leaving Laurel behind him, disappearing into the pre-dawn gloom.

#lovelikeyours2020 #the arcana #my fic #apprentice laurel tag #nadia x apprentice #julian x apprentice

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bedbellyandbeyond · 5 years ago

Photo

Christmas

(Story Post; ART AT END)

Christmas day, Köbi convinced Sydryn that they should visit Aoife and Reid. Aoife had gifted the dragon a batch of homemade pink cupcakes at work the week before so it was only fair to return the favour. They showed up to the apartment with gifts and wine, and they gathered in the living room for merriment. Syd didn't personally enjoy the idea of Christmas: too many people, too much noise, too much gingerbread. But in Aoife's apartment, it was just the five of them (Aoife, Reid, Samara, Syd and Köbi), they weren't a rowdy bunch, and no one had thought to get gingerbread. “Nathan sent you a gift,” Aoife was saying to Reid, placing a gift bag in his lap. “You should open it.”

Reid blinked and then focused on Aoife before looking down at the present in his lap. “Oh. Aye.” He straightened up in the chair and took the tissue paper out, rooting around. “Card first, right? Did he send one... Here we are.” Aoife sighed and sat back in her chair. Samara came around from the kitchen and handed her girlfriend a mug of hot chocolate with a kiss on the crown of her head. “Oh, look at that...” Reid said holding up the card. “It's got the twins on it in little red and green onesies. Um... Their names...” “Probably inside the card if you can't remember,” Samara suggested. “Right...” He opened the card. “‘Wishing you a relaxing holiday and a quick recovery. It's the season of miracles and I couldn't have had mine without you. Merry Christmas, Dr. Gardi, and a Happy New Year! Love Nathan, Dax, Grace and Gabriel’.” “There you go. That's really sweet of him,” Aoife said. “It is...” Reid said, placing the car back in its envelope and leaving it on the coffee table. “I still feel bad that I missed the birth.” “Wish I had,” Sydryn admitted. “You've never had to calm and sedate a labouring werewolf...” “I guess so...” Reid sighed. “Syd. Did you get my gift?” “Yes.” “And?” “I put it in my hoard.” “On display?” “Yes. It's with the other dragon statuettes I own.” “Nice. Is it the biggest one?” “No. Eat a cookie Reid.” Reid leaned forward and took one from the plate. “Samara, these are amazing.” “I already told you, Aoife made them,” Samara groaned. “Oh. Sorry...” Reid looked down and started nibbling at his cookie. “You can't just get mad at him for not remembering...” Köbi interjected. “It's part of the dissociation.” “It's okay, Köbi,” Reid said. “Samara has every right to be upset.” Samara frowned. “No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be condescending...” “Reid's getting better,” Sydryn said. “You should only have to put up with it for a short while longer, hopefully. And you don't even live here, so technically the one who should be complaining is Aoife.” “I'm a nurse. I'm just doing my job,” Aoife said. “You say that like we're not even roommates,” Reid complained. “We hardly are. You haven't been home in months,” Aoife said. “I paid my share though.” “You did.” “Well, you say it like we're not even friends.” “We are, but now I have to see you 24/7. If I don't treat you as a patient, I might go mad too, and end up like you.” “I didn't go mad, I had a breakthrough,” Reid countered. “Well, you can't even tell us what the breakthrough is, so...” “I can! I um...” Reid tried to think hard. “...That's not really a nice way to talk to your patient. Learn some bedside manner.” Aoife sighed. “Do we want to watch a movie or something?” “I should head out...” Sydryn said, getting up from the couch. “Reid's doing well. I came to drop off gifts and check on him.” “You don't want to stay for dinner?” Köbi asked. “Not really, no.” “What if I want to stay for dinner?” “You can find your own way home.” Aoife crossed her arms. “Syd, you gotta stay for dinner. It's Christmas.” “You act like that means something to me.” “You brought gifts, didn't you? It must mean something to you.” “I brought gifts because I knew I'd be receiving gifts and I didn't want the guilt.” The dragon put their hands on their hips. “Köbi, you can stay. I have other places to visit so I'll pick you up after...” “Oh, okay. Thanks, Syd.” Köbi smiled. “Where are you off to?” “I have to go visit Camilo and Rheni. I have news for them.” “Not bad news. You can't deliver bad news on Christmas.” “It's just news. How they receive the information is up to them.” “Okay...” Köbi got up to see them out. “Drive safe. Yeah?” “Oh, Syd. Hold on.” Aoife grabbed some cookies and went to the kitchen for a baggie before heading back. “Give these to Camilo and Rheni. And, um, before he says anything, yes, I did tell Camilo you'd sit in on his pregnancy group.” “Are you mad?” Sydryn said, lowering their voice as Samara wasn't supposed to be privy to the knowledge of their pregnancy. “I'm not going to a pregnancy group. My condition is private.” “I only told him you could be beneficial as a doctor,” Aoife said. “You know how worried pregnant people can be. They'll spread home remedies and false information.” “Thank you for letting me know so I can tell Camilo myself that you were mistaken and I will not be attending.” “Syd. You should go.” “In what way would that benefit me?” Sydryn asked. “You’ll be able to learn to care,” Aoife said. “And I’ll stop nagging you about it.” Sydryn clenched their jaw. “I don’t want to.” “If you don’t, I’ll make you take Reid. He can live with you. His hair’s basically pink now. He’ll fit in. Köbi can be his nurse.” “Absolutely not.” “Then go to the group. Think about it. Sleep on it.” Sydryn groaned and just pulled on their coat. “You're a bully.” “If I have to be. Happy Christmas.” Sydryn rolled their eyes and just left.

A quick text to Camilo placed him at Fay's house as the dragon expected. He hadn't yet arranged for Rheni to move back in with him and while they were getting along, Camilo still didn't feel like he could forgive so easily. Sydryn supported Camilo's decision so long as he had the necessary support at home to help him navigate the world as a pregnant man. With Marcita around, it helped a lot. Pulling up, Sydryn immediately noticed a big bundled coat sitting out on the porch. When they approached, it became clear that the figure was Fay and he didn’t look too comfortable. Frowning, Sydryn feeling safe enough in this rural forested area, blew a flame into their palm and wrapped it into a ball, offering it to Fay. The merman took the ball of flame hesitantly, but it floated an inch off his fingers and only warmed, not burned. “Thanks…” “What are you doing out here?” the dragon asked. “Escaping Christmas…” “Ah.” “I don’t do Christmas. I don’t like Christmas. I’m not Christian. My religion is the sea and I’m barely practicing that…” “I’m not fond of it either. Christmas that is,” Sydryn stated. “Yeah. I assume it’s the people?” “Precisely.” “Dari’s not even a practicing Christian.” “It’s these North Americans… They’ve made it part of their culture, whether everyone likes it or not.” “I wish I’d banned TV as soon as Arianne was old enough to understand. Right now, it’s the only way any of them would’ve learned about Christmas, other than from Dari.” “Mm… Yes, perhaps that would’ve worked.” “I assume you’re here on business?” Fay suggested. “I came to speak to Camilo, yes.” “Well, good luck in there.” “Fay, you can’t stay out here. You’re not a cold-water fish.” “I know. Give me a bit more time.” “Alright.” Sydryn headed inside. Immediately commercial Christmas music blared throughout the house and there were lights and decorations everywhere. Siv was the first to appear and weaved between the dragon’s legs to hide behind them, but at the same time Arianne jumped into the hall and pointed right at him. “I see you!” she yelled. “You can’t hide!” “No!” Siv yelled. “Can’t see me!” “I can! You have to help me find Otter!” she yelled back. “Nooo!” Siv yelled again. Sydryn just moved on, removing their coat and boots and walking into the living room. The living room had a live white fir in the corner and stockings hanging over the fireplace as well as snacks on the table. A big garbage bag full of used wrapping paper and opened toy packaging was beside the tree and various toys, clothes and candy were strewn across the floor. Among it, Milo was sitting playing with Katia who looked to have received a new stuffed dolphin for Christmas. Not seeing who he was looking for, Sydryn moved into the kitchen. Dari was in the kitchen mashing potatoes with Zoe strapped to his back. He heard Sydryn come in. “Fay, I need your help with the—Oh, Jesus Christ! Syd!” Dari nearly jumped when he looked back. “Don't scare me... When did you get here?” “Just now,” Sydryn said. “I'm looking for Camilo.” “Upstairs with Rheni I think,” Dari reported. “You haven't seen my husband, have you? I can’t do this without him.” “Porch.” “Of course...” Dari sighed. “I don't know why he has to be such a scrooge. We agreed we'd do Christmas a long time ago.” “I bet that was before your numbers tripled.” “Still. He can't just mope about. I need help.” “I'm sure he'll be back in shortly,” Sydryn stated. “I only gave him a two minute flame.” “A what?” “Don't worry about it.” Syd headed towards the stairs. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas!” Upstairs, Sydryn found the light on in a room down the hall and figured it was their destination. As they drew near, they could hear chuckling and wet noises from the room with its door slightly ajar. They shivered in disgust and just reached out to knock without looking. “Hello?” “Ah, dios mio!” Camilo was heard startled. “Rheni, stop! Come in.” “I don’t think I want to,” the dragon hypothesised. “Syd?” Camilo came to the door, pulling a shirt down over his stomach which had purple kiss marks all over it. “Hey! You came over fast.” “You seem light spirited,” Sydryn observed. “Well, uh... Es Navidad,” he said blushing. Rheni appeared behind him, passing a hand over Camilo's back. “Hey, Syd! What's up dude?” I'm sorry this took so long, but I've had a lot of work to do in Gardi's wake, and your issue wasn't of high urgency. Anyway, I have your results for you,” they stated. Camilo blinked then looked at Rheni. “Wait... So is the baby Rheni's?” “I never doubted that he was the one to impregnate you,” Sydryn said. “It's the process that I find more interesting. But technically, no the child isn't Rheni's.” “What?” Rheni said, his arms dropping to his sides. “I'm not the father?” “You two don't seem to be listening. Go sit down,” Sydryn said. Camilo went back into the room and sat down on the bed. Rheni sat next to him but didn't touch him. “Good. Now...” Sydryn pulled out their rose-coloured work tablet. “I analysed the sample that you collected from Arrhenius. As I suspected, when performing sexual acts, Rheni's body is capable of producing human DNA completely different from the DNA in the cells that make up Rheni's body. Instead of simple slime gametes like your first pregnancy which were incompatible with Camilo's egg, human male gametes are produced with human DNA which successfully impregnated you with a human child.” “So, I am the father?” Rheni asked. “Well, the thing is, your body had to get the human DNA from somewhere,” Sydryn stated. “Your body is learning from it's environment. It wouldn't just create human DNA from nowhere. It would need to replicate DNA it has access too. But it has access to every human around you: Camilo, Marcita, Dari, etc. But we have record of their DNA and—” “You do?” Camilo interrupted. “Yes, of course,” Sydryn said. “Have to make sure the humans really are human. Also if you were wondering, you're very much human, Camilo.” “I mean, I figured.” “Anyway, the gametes provided to me did not match any of those records of those around you. But...” Sydryn turned over the tablet and showed them a picture. “It does match his.” The pair blinked and stared at the picture. It was an ID portrait of a young man with black hair, a soft face with a defined jaw. “Who's that?” Camilo asked. “That's missing person Michael Zhao,” Sydryn said. “He was attending post secondary school in BC when he was reported missing seven years ago.” They continued to stare at the picture then Rheni moved a hand up to his own face and touched his cheek. “...Is that...Is that me?” “It would be very difficult to conclude otherwise,” Sydryn said. “He is the father of Camilo's baby.” Camilo covered his mouth and tears started rolling down his face. “Oh god, Camilo...” Rheni started rubbing his back. “Are you okay?” “Am I okay?” Camilo sobbed. He pointed to the picture. “It's you!” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “We found you!” Rheni started nodding quickly, tears coming to his eyes as well. “It is... I know it is...”

#lore #Sydryn #Köbi #Reid #Aoife #Samara #Fay #Dari #Camilo #Rheni #dragon #angel #Ennedi tiger #merman #slime man #mpreg

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roundness-n-radiance · 5 years ago

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My darling @aphrodionysus tagged me in a get to know better tag. Everyone knows my second favourite activity is talking abount myself:

Favourite Colours: Baby colours, like baby pink, baby blue, baby purple and baby yellow especially yellow the kind of pastel colours commonly associated with spring and easter, but I also do love a good neon or deep purple.

Last Song I Listened To: Technically Cruise cause thats what was playing in the cafe before I went on my break.

Favourite Musicians: Oh boy here we go! In no particular order; Pup, Hozier, Trixie Mattel, Cavetown, Angèle, Cosmo Sheldrake, Loveleo, Lorde, The Front Bottoms, Harry Styles, Iron & Wine, Keaton Henson, Kehlani, Khalid, Lana Del Rey, Mike Shindoda, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Stromae and Stephane Legar

Favourite Song: my favourite song changes constantly, but one song I will never get tired of hearing is Uncle by Hello Emerson. Its so calming and sweet and sad at the same time and everyone should go listen right now.

Last Film I Watched: dear lord, the last film I watched was Delta Farce. Its so bad you should watch it immediately. The last good movie I watched was 1917 and muah it was exceptional.

Last TV Show I Watched: Peaky Blinders? I stopped watching like seven months ago cause I couldn’t focus long enough, but maybe with all my quarentine time I’ll continue the series.

Favourite OC: oh boy, I have so many I adore, but I think my favourites are my boy Milo and my main man Micheal from a story I’m in the process of writing. Neither of them have last names because I am very bad at coming up with last names and have put it on the back burner

Pets: Right now, a Huksy/German Shepard, an Irish Wolfhound and a theiving lil black cat

Sweet, Spicy or Savoury: depends what mood I’m in. Usually sweet and never spicy. Spicy hurts me

Sparkling Water, Tea or Coffee: Coffee, always. But sweeter coffee with a lot of milk, preferably iced or a latte.

I Tag: @friend-of-the-worms @edgy-fluffball @the-hopeful-r @themwolves

#words of julian #tag game #about me

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this-is-a-podcast-fanblog · 5 years ago

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I wasn’t gonna just find out about Cecil’s engagement ring and not do anything with that information.

Here’s the post if anyone’s not sure what I’m talking about. Fanfic under the cut.

Carlos isn’t sure what engagement customs are like in Night Vale, so he asks Janice on one of the weekends while she’s over at their house.

“Oh, it’s just like everywhere else, I think, just a ring, and you go down on one knee, and - OH MY GOD UNCLE CARLOS ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE TO UNCLE CECIL?”

“Shh!” Carlos exclaims, glancing back through the screen door from the porch. Cecil is in the kitchen, making dinner, with his cat-ear headphones on; judging from how he’s dancing, his music is probably turned up too loud to hear. He’s so cute.

“Sorry!” Janice leans closer, conspiratorially. Her eyes glitter. “But wait, are you? Are you going to propose to Uncle Cecil?!”

“Yes.”

Janice shrieks, wheels her chair forward to where he’s sitting, and throws her arms around his waist. “Oh my god! Oh my god, Uncle Carlos!!!! I’m so excited! Have you bought a ring yet? Have you decided when you’re gonna ask him?”

“Not yet.” Carlos glances back into the house. Cecil is spinning around to whatever music it is he’s got on; his pink fishnet skirt swishes over distressed neon yellow tights. When he sees Carlos he grins and then goes back to dancing. “I want everything to be perfect, you know? And I know, scientifically speaking, nothing can ever be perfect, because life has so many variables, and so by that logic no engagement ring can be perfect, because engagement rings are made out of metal and minerals and honestly? Minerals are very unpredictable, as elements go. But I would like it to be almost perfect.”

Janice nods understandingly. “Well, maybe I could help you. He’s covering the morning show tomorrow, right? We can tell him you’re taking the day off work to bring me to the mall. We can say I need new sports gear”

“You didn’t mention that you wanted new sports gear.”

“No, I’m sorry. That would be our ruse. We’d really be going to buy a ring.”

“Oh!” Carlos nods. “Yes, okay, that makes sense.”

And they do their niece/uncle secret handshake, the one they’ve been perfecting for months now, even though, scientifically speaking, nothing can ever be perfect.

The Night Vale Mall has three fine jewelry shops: Jared’s, Kay’s, and Renaldo’s. The owner of Jared’s, who is named Yuzuki, shows them fifteen different rings, but Janice shakes her head at all of them. “These are too plain,” she says as she wheels aggressively through the aisles of display cases. “Uncle Cecil is not plain.”

“He’s really not,” Carlos agrees. Just this morning Cecil left for work in a black jumpsuit, white pinstripe pattern belt, and matching green beret and combat boots, with rainbow lipstick. “This is fashion, honey,” he’d said.

The owner of Kay’s, who is named Paul, offers Janice and Carlos a suspicious looking red drink from a vial. It turns out that the Kay’s had been renovated so that it was now a meeting place for a new blood cult.

They finally find a ring at Renaldo’s, where the owner, Katherine, suggests a specialty cut diamond shaped like a beaker. “Because that’s your thing, right?” they smiles. “You’re a scientist? I listen to your boyfriend’s show every day. This one is somewhat expensive, though.”

“That’s okay,” says Carlos.

“Money is no object,” adds Janice.

“Well, technically, money is an object, because in its physical form money is formed out of matter, and matter is -”

“Do you want to add engraving, Uncle Carlos?” Janice suggests, throwing him off of his scientific explanation. He decided that yes, he did want engraving.

Katherine designs a prototype on their computer and shows it to the two, saying that the ring would be ready to pick up in two weeks. Carlos watches nervously as Janice snaps a picture. “Doesn’t Cecil follow your Instagram?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m posting this on my Finsta.”

“Your what?”

“My Finsta. You know, you have your Rinsta, which is your normal account, and then you have your Finsta, which is your more secret one for friends, and then you have your Ginsta, where you post visual sacrifices to the various gods.”

“Oh.” He’s still not sure, but she assures him that Cecil won’t see the picture. She captions it, “Took my uncle shopping”, with the wedding ring emoji, the winky face emoji, and then the radio star emoji, which is a gravestone that reads “killed by video”.

Cecil may not have seen the picture, but by the end of the week it seems like everyone else in town has. When he buys coffee in the morning, the barista winks and asks, “Sooo, any updates yet?” and pumps her eyebrows in rhythm with pumping syrup into his latte. When they go for walks, he notices people concealed in the bushes with binoculars looking at Cecil’s left hand. In the middle of the night when he gets up to go to the bathroom, there’s a note taped to the front of his shower curtain written in blood that reads, “Hey, if you’re looking for a romantic place to propose, I’ll give you a 15% discount. -Gino.”

As always, though, Cecil seems totally oblivious. “Hey, look at that!” he says, pointing to the sky where a secret police plane has written, “PROPOSE TO HIM ALREADY”. “Sheriff Sam is trying to help someone propose! Aw, that’s so sweet. Sam always has our town’s best interests at heart, huh?”

“They sure do,” says Carlos, sweating.

The town continues to drop hints - dropping them on his front lawn, out of the sky when he goes outside, and one day one falls from the ceiling and lands on his head while he’s braiding his hair. “I get it, Faceless Old Woman,” Carlos grumbles. “The ring hasn’t come in yet.”

“I am eager to attend your wedding,” hisses a voice from the shadows. “I will steal an exceptional bottle of wine for you as a gift.”

Finally, finally, he gets a text that the ring has come in to Renaldo’s for him to pick up. He’s not quite sure how he’s going to propose, but he thinks that once he has the ring, some inspiration might strike him.

Cecil’s show starts at four o’clock. He’s anxious about the broadcast today, since developments with the most recent town-threatening entity have been escalating. “It’s important that I update the town,” he says.

“It’s also important that you keep yourself safe,” Carlos tells him as he fixes the crooked bow tie around Cecil’s neck. It has a pattern of slices of pizza dancing with french fries. “I want you home tonight. Please don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll be careful, bunny. I always am.”

You never are, Carlos thinks, but he just says, “Okay, babe. I love you.” He kisses Cecil’s forehead.

He drives over to pick up the ring. It comes in a little velvet box that fits perfectly into the pocket of his labcoat. He chooses purple for the box color - it’s Cecil’s favorite. The ring looks even better in person than it did on the model, with the fractal diamonds glinting in light. He admires it for a moment before snapping the box shut and sliding it into his pocket. “It’s perfect,” he tells Katharine. “Thanks so much.”

“Best of luck!” they exclaim.

He doesn’t think he’s going to propose tonight, but just in case, he goes home early and makes a nice dinner. Time passes as time always passes in Night Vale - slowly and quickly and strangely. He finishes dinner, but since he’s not sure when Cecil’s going to be home, he turns on the radio to see where he is in the broadcast.

There’s nothing. Just static.

Panic wells in his throat. He rushes to the counter and yanks his phone off the charger, goes to his contacts list with trembling fingers. Cecil’s number goes straight to voicemail. He tries the radio station’s phone number, and that goes through, but all he hears on the other side are dull crashes and distant roaring.

“Cecil? Cecil, are you there? Cecil!”

Nothing.

He’s shaking now, trembling from head to foot, and he knows he can’t drive in this state, but he’s rushing to the door anyway, grabbing his labcoat off the back of the chair. Cecil has to be okay, he has to be, he -

The door flies open from the other side and Cecil stumbles in. He’s covered in dust, his bowtie is askew, and there’s a reddish-brown stain along his bare side under his crop top. Which is soaked in that same color.

“Sweetie!” Carlos shrieks. He grabs Cecil in his arms fretting over the injury. “How are you hurt? Oh no, where did I put the rubbing alcohol? Are you hurt somewhere else?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Cecil catches Carlos’s face. “Honey. Carlos. Breathe, you’re hyperventilating.”

“I was - I was so worried about you -” Carlos sobs and hugs Cecil tight. “Fuck, Cece, don’t ever do that again!”

“I’m sorry!” Cecil hugs him back. “This isn’t blood. We had a false alarm on that recent threat and Station Management came out of their office. I spilled my strawberry-banana-spinach-passionfruit-cherry smoothie in fear, though.”

“Oh my god.” Carlos buries his face in Cecil’s neck. “What would I do without you?” Many people, in this case, would say “What am I going to do with you?” and say this in a subtle way of not communicating what they are actually trying to communicate - which is that they do not want to be without the other person. Carlos doesn’t like indirect communication, so he says, “What would I do without you?”

“Well, you’ll never have to be without me! Oh, and Carlos?” Cecil pulls back from the hug a little. “Do you think we can get the smoothie out of my crop top?”

Carlos laughs. A small sob comes out, too, one that was in the back of his throat. “Yes, baby, I think we can get the smoothie out of your crop top.”

Those first few words stick in his head, though. You’ll never have to be without me.

He can feel the weight of engagement ring in his pocket. He thinks he might be taking it out of that pocket soon.

#i've wanted to write a fic about carlos's proposal for SO LONG #i really hope you liked it #welcome to night vale #carlos the scientist #cecil palmer #cecilos #janice palmer #podcasts #fanfiction

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moonyro · 5 years ago

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Lazy day, Lazy morning, Lazy life

A/N: Hey there, a bit late for Yoshiko's Birthday, but better late than never, I guess. So I had a really big issue writing this: I didn't know if I wanted it to be YouHane or YohaRiko because I love both pairings. (Also YohaMaru was there haunting me, but, oh well, let's leave it as if I only struggled with two pairings.)

Man, loving multiple pairings is a torture, especially when writing.

Well, guess imma start posting here in tumblr, too. Who cares anyway.

The idea of a lazy day was just so tempting to do with You, and at the same time, with Riko, that while I was writing this I started changing names, description, and every interaction while advancing; in the end, knowing that I wouldn't get anywhere like that, I decided to leave it as YohaRiko. (I still feel troubled about this, but probably also would be the same if it were the other way around) Next time prolly gonna write some YouHane cuz I love 'em. So there you go, hope you enjoy this little fluff of one of my favorite pairings. (Oh yeah, I’m learning english, expect horrendous grammatical errors ahead.)

Lazy Morning, Lazy Day, Lazy Life.

An irritating sound was heard inside the room, on a little stand next to the bed. A hand emerged from the cushions seeking vengeance and willing to stop the hellish sound from the Hades itself, but failed in every attempt. The person groaned quietly and retrieved her hand back to their place, she hid her face under her pillow, hoping for the sound to be muffled. When the sound became louder, like thousands of barking Hell-hounds that protect the entrance to the underworld, the girl decided to throw her pillow to the source of the sound. The satisfactory sound of the mechanism falling to the ground and the subsequent silence that came with, all of that had a price to pay, 'Oh fuck, that was my phone.'

The girl looked at the ground worried, right where her phone fell, wondering if it was still working. Her answer was the muffled sound of the deep abyss that is Tartar- 'I should stop calling the alarm like that.' After confirming that her phone was still functional she shrugged and returned to the comforting warmth that was produced by her blankets. It was her free day so she didn't needn't to get up so early. Then she realized that she had no pillow.

She looked at her side, wondering where her pillow ended up, she saw it against the wall, clearly, too far from her reach. Not wanting to get up, she turned around and scooted closer to her companion, whom was facing to the opposite direction in the bed. Fortunately for her, the girl at her side left enough space for her to lay her head on the pillow. Yoshiko sighed contented as she buried her face in the red wine-like hair of her lover, letting the fruity smell intoxicate her, Yoshiko felt her eyelids heavier, and the sleep that she deserved came back, she hugged the girl and snuggled closer. As she was about to drift to the lands of dreams again, she felt the girl shift in the place and lazily turn around to face her beloved. She had her eyes closed, still grasping to the remnants of her sleep, but that didn't stopped her to bury her face into Yoshiko's neck and embrace her.

Yoshiko passed her hand slowly through the glossy locks and feeling satisfied when she heard a soft purring and her neck tingled. She kissed the forehead of her beloved flower, ''Sorry, did I wake you up?''

''No... Well, technically, you did, but it was the alarm that woke me up,'' Riko said planting a kiss on Yoshiko's collarbone. ''I hope you didn't break your phone.''

The moment she said that on the other side of the bed a notification sound came from the phone and this started to ring again. Yoshiko snickered, ''See? It's still working, never doubt of any of my possessions, they were crafted by Sindri and Brok themselves*.''

''Pfft...You're a dork, you know that?'' Riko laughed quietly, after all those years together, she couldn't help but fall in love with Yoshiko's weird antics, even if they were less frequent than before.

''Quiet,'' Yoshiko mumbled into Riko's hair as she started to drift off.

BOOM

Yoshiko jumped scared to Riko's arms and throwing half of the sheets to the floor in the process, outside the apartment the sound of water splattering on the roof and against the window started to subside the hellish alarm.

Riko laughed hardheartedly at her girlfriend, ''Geez, you're such a scaredy-cat.''

Yoshiko hid her face in the crook of Riko's neck, she felt her face burning with shame, ''S-shut it, it got me out of guard.''

Riko sighed contented as she felt the warm breath of Yoshiko on her skin, ''Whatever you say, Yocchan.'' She nudged the self-proclaimed fallen angel, ''Yocchan. Could you get the blanket? I'm freezing here.''

''You don't need such thing as a blanket.'' She tightened her grip on Riko and whispered, ''F-For I, the one that descended to hell, is all you need to keep you warm and comfortable.''

Riko would've thought that her girlfriend sounded cool, (and maybe it would've also turned her on) if it wasn't for the way she shivered after saying that. Still, she loved to play along with her antics, but, although it was something Riko was sure she would never get tired of, it was just too early in the morning to deal with it, ''Yes, yes. You're right. But what about you? Aren't you cold?''

''It is my duty to care of you, Lily, don't worry about-'' she paused when she saw Riko's unamused expression. ''Fine, fine, I'll get it.''

Yoshiko sat up, her navy-blue hair falling over her black tank top, she crawled to the opposite end of the bed. She looked at Riko with a glint on her eyes and threw herself with covers over girlfriend. Riko let out a small cry that got muffled by the blankets.

''Yocchan! Don't do that!''

Yoshiko cackled, clearly entertained, ''Why not? Weren't you cold? I'm just doing my job to keep you safe from the cold winds of the Fimbulvetr.'

Riko sighed, at this point, she thought, she should be used to her girlfriend acting like a child, but she's not, and she often forgets how childish Yoshiko could be,''If you're going to wrap me up like that, at least do it so that both of us are under the covers, so we're both nice and warm.''

She felt how Yoshiko stopped struggling so she took the chance to take a peek from her position. Yoshiko was looking at her side, rather embarrassed and pouting, Riko smiled fondly and raised the blankets, leaving enough space for her girlfriend, ''Hey, come here.''

Yoshiko, obviously, obliges.

''We should've closed the window completely.''

''Hmm... probably.'' said Yoshiko looking at the half-closed, blind windows. ''But it was jut too hot last night.''

''We need to buy an AC,'' Riko wrapped her arms around Yoshiko's waist and rested her head on the fallen angel's shoulder.

Yoshiko yaws, ''Should have asked Mari for one.''

Riko laughs quietly, she stares into Yoshiko's eyes, and moments later starts to drift off, slowly closing her golden eyes. The rhythmical breathing of her lover makes Yoshiko's heart soar, she can't believe how beautiful Riko is. She takes the opportunity to caress her face and kiss her cheek. She felt her body lighter and her eyelids heavier, not much after that, she was already joining Riko in her sleep.

Yoshiko woke up after a while, with her hand searching for the girl that was supposed to be at her side. When the only thing she felt was the empty space of the warm blankets, she sat up wiping her eyes and stretching her limps. Outside their apartment it was still pouring, Yoshiko lifted her phone with its screen now broken, she groaned as she put on her slippers, she made her way to their wardrobe grabbing a purple hoodie and leaving the bedroom. The smell of hot chocolate and fried eggs immediately rose her spirit, she walked to the kitchen where she saw Riko only with a pink t-shirt and panties in front of the stove, the view made her skip a beat and suddenly a smirk appeared on her face.

As she tried to move as quietly as possible, slowly approaching to her prey, Riko spoke, ''Yocchan, don't you dare.''

Yoshiko squeaked, ''W-what are you talking about, Lily?''

Riko turned off the stove and turned around to face her lover, ''I told you, no more sneak attacks, at least while I'm cooking.''

Yoshiko approached the girl and stood in front of her, ''Then it's okay when you're not?''

Before Riko finished saying 'Yes' she was already being kissed by the fallen angel. Yoshiko hugged her by the waist, Riko brought her hands to cup Yoshiko's face; short breaths were taken each time they separated, occasional 'I love you's' were said in between pauses, and the soft smacking of their lips were all the soundtrack they needed; all in a chaste bliss that Riko enjoyed each time they had the opportunity.

Another kiss was given before Yoshiko rested her forehead against Riko's, ''Good morning, my little demon.''

''Good Morning'' Riko smiled sweetly and gave her the sweetest of kisses, ''Happy birthday, Yocchan.''

Yoshiko beamed as Riko turned laughing quietly to stove, ''Go watch TV or something, breakfast will be ready in a few.''

Yoshiko made her way up to the living room, she lied on the couch and looked at her phone, and she shrugged at the broken screen and unlocked the phone. There were various messages from her parents and Aquors members wishing her a happy birthday,Yoshiko smiled and started to answer each of the messages.

As she tapped on the phone Riko appeared on her peripheral carrying a tray with two plates and two mugs on it, she panicked and quickly hid the broken phone below a cushions. Riko placed the tray on the table in front of the couch alongside with pancakes and eggs.

Yoshiko sat up, ''Thanks, Lily.''

''It's nothing,'' said Riko smiling at her girlfriend and handing her a mug of chocolate. She looked at the nervous and agitated expression on Yoshiko's face, ''...you broke your phone, didn't you?''

''W-well, it’s not broken...''

Riko sighed, ''Seriously, Yocchan.'' She put off her apron and looked to the balcony. ''I hope it settles soon.''

Yoshiko sipped at her mug, relieved that Riko didn't pressed her on the matter, ''It will probably not, you know my luck. And it's the day I fell from heaven! I'm pretty sure the gods might not want me to enjoy this day.''

''But I had many things planned for today!'' said Riko pouting. ''I wanted to make it special, you know.''

''We can always invite everyone here, they would come even in this weather,'' Yoshiko sneered, and locked eyes with her lover. ''Or... we could spend the whole day together, you know, just the two of us here. As long I'm with you, it's special, Lily.''

Riko blushed and giggled, ''That's so cliché, Yocchan.''

''H-hey, gimme a break, I'm trying!''

Riko sat next to Yoshiko, grabbing her own plate, ''I know, it's just too weird to hear you say such things.''

Yoshiko looked away from her, her face felt warm, and she was pretty sure it wasn't for the chocolate, ''...because it's true,'' she whispered.

Riko smiled satisfied as she gave a bit to her breakfast, soon Yoshiko joined her. When they were finished Riko retrieved their plates back to the tray and rested her head on Yoshiko's shoulder. ''We could bake a cake later, or play some games. We have a whole day just for us. We can meet with the girls other day.''

She smiled and looked straight into those fuchsia eyes she loved so much.

''So, what do you want to do first?''

#Love Live #love live sunshine #fanfic #yoshiko tsushima #riko sakurauchi #happy birthday yoshiko #yohariko

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askthe43 · 6 years ago

Note

What are your favorite colors and why?

Green maybe, I don’t know-never really thought about it - Korra

PURPLE!!!!! No reason why…maybe its the way it brings out my eyes. - Tate

Gold. I love a bit of sparkle! - Allison

White. It’s technically all of the colors. - Vanya

Green. It’s pretty, and deep, and reminds me of … home. - Nine

Pink! I just think it’s a fun color. - Esther

Definitely black. Or navy blue? I don’t know. Haven’t put much thought into it. -Diego

You know i’m always a slut for a nice like wine red!! - Shay!!

I like colors the way I like my coffee…black. Though dark green is also nice. -Five.

red, like blood. -Klaus

#ask #repsonse #ua #the umbrella academy #the rainboot institute #korra bane #tate tanner #allison hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #nine #number five #klaus hargreeves

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jaguarundis · 6 years ago

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Dream Made Real

A little oneshot for xio @kuurapika ‘s lovely characters!! This is way overdue, but it was lots of fun to work on and helped me stretch my writing muscles a bit. Hope you enjoy it!

1.3k words on girls being gay UNDER the cut

The sun glows white-hot and overly bright in a blue, blue sky. Winged creatures sing strange and musical songs from the treetops. Somewhere out of sight, a waterfall is making a quiet rushing sound.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best days: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of content.

That is, until the peaceful spell is very rudely broken by a crashing sound from a distant grove of trees. Which can only mean one thing--

“Found you, Azari!”

Yup. It’s Ina, looking disheveled from her travel through the woods but also unfairly pretty at the same time. The sight of Azari’s girlfriend--girlfriend!! She still can’t believe it--makes her heart jump suddenly against her ribcage. It’s been far too long.

“You’re late,” Azari points out, trying to hide her smile.

“Excuse me for having trouble making it to the middle of nowhere,” Ina fires back, but there’s no bite to her voice. “This whole thing was your idea! I just got dragged along for the ride.”

“So you’re not happy to see me, then?”

“Hey, I never said that.”

Both of them are quiet for all of a second before glancing at each other and bursting into laughter. Even after months of dating, they’ve never gotten tired of their own banter. Azari knows that she, at least, will never pass up an easy opportunity to get a laugh out of Ina. She suspects that the feeling is mutual.

“Well, let’s get going. If we manage our time right, we can probably hike all along the longest trail by sunset.”

“Lame,” Ina says, but she’s grinning anyways.

Sometime later, the sun has traced a wide path across the sky. Noon brings with it more warmth, but also more insects. Far too many insects. Azari swats aside an iridescent winged menace for the umpteenth time before linking her fingers with Ina’s. She doesn’t miss the redness creeping into Ina’s cheeks and the tips of her ears at the gesture. None of them speak to acknowledge it, but the silence is comfortable. It settles over them with the lightness of silk threads.

As Ina and Azari weave their way through fallen branches and overgrown shrubs, the various sounds of the woods fade into the background, overtaken by the distinct noise of a something else: something new.

A waterfall.

The very waterfall that Azari remembers hearing earlier that morning, in fact.

Except oh, it looks so much grander up close, and all the more breathtaking. Azari has to crane her neck to see where it begins among the frothy white bubbles: upon her examination, it seems to trace back to a craggy collection of boulders, about seventy feet up in the air.

Azari kneels down beside the pool where the waterfall ends and dips the fingers of her metallic arm in its coolness. A thin orange-blue fish zips by her hand, a blur of color and motion. The water sighs and burbles in the way that water does, and Azari is so caught up in its rhythm that she almost doesn’t notice Ina sneaking up behind her.

Almost.

“Watcha up to? Talking to the fishes?” Ina has both of arms draped around Azari’s shoulders from behind, and she’s taken the liberty of propping her chin on her head too. Azari can feel her skin tingling from the contact. Her enhanced senses are a blessing and curse, times like this.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Azari finally manages, trying to look up at Ina backwards. It doesn’t work.

Ina absentmindedly twirls a strand of Azari’s hair between her fingers. “Mhmm,” she hums, voice dreamy. “I think we should have something to eat, don’t you? I’m famished.”

Azari blinks at the sudden change in topic. She wriggles around in Ina’s grasp to face her, tucking her legs underneath herself to sit properly. “Well, my pack isn’t just for show. You can help yourself, you know. I have some boar meat in there, rice from yesterday’s leftovers, cornbread, a bottle of raspberry wine I snuck out of the pantry…” She trails off with a sly smile when she sees Ina’s eyes go wide.

“No way.”

“Yes way, and I can prove it!”

Ina beats her to the worn leathery hunting pack, though, and fishes out the bottle in question. She makes a face. “Azari, you bold faced liar!”

Azari giggles. She can’t help it. “Well, you see, it technically is raspberry juice, and who knows how long it’s been in Mom’s cupboard, so--”

“Come on, Azari! What happened to good old-fashioned drunken fun?”

“Hilarious. You can say that again when we’re of age.”

Ina pointedly sticks out her tongue, but doesn’t argue. Instead, she plops down on the grassy ground and fishes out a sizable loaf of cornbread from Azari’s pack. Azari settles beside her, but not before retrieving the aforementioned rice for herself.

The sky twists and contorts into a sunset: blue and purple and orange clouds sprawl out across the pink backdrop. Azari watches with her head tipped back, not wanting to miss a moment of it. Around her, she can make out the shadowy shapes of tree trunks and smooth boulders and forest ferns, as well as the jagged rocks shaping the waterfall nearby. Ina is shadowed by the sunset, too, but only halfway. The sun’s managed to illuminate a strand of her hair so that it looks glossy and faded all at once, and her eyes are unusually bright.

Unusually bright-- and focused on her. Azari feels her skin tingling again, not unlike before. She knows Ina inside out. She knows her desires, knows her dreams and aspirations, knows her fears and sorrows.

And she knows what that look means.

Azari suddenly feels uncomfortably aware of herself: her right hand, with the fingers splayed out on the soil and grass. Her hair brushing against the back of her neck. Every movement of her mouth as she swallows. Her heart pulsing in her chest like a contained beast.

Slowly, carefully, she shifts to face Ina. Their eyes meet. And Azari’s breath catches when she sees Ina’s eyes-- really sees them, every fleck of color and every flash of emotion.

Ina is so beautiful it hurts.

But as it is, Azari doesn’t have long to agonize over the fact, which is just as well. If she did, she’d surely sink so far into the depths of infatuation that she’d never return.

No, Azari doesn’t get the chance to contemplate her bubbling feelings further, because Ina seems to read her mind and smiles--really smiles, pure and compassionate-- before cupping Azari’s cheek in her hand and kissing her.

Around them, time seems to trickle impossibly slowly. Clouds inch unhurriedly across the sky. The crickets barely whisper. Even the waterfall’s incessant roar sounds muted. The forest is bathed in pink and black and orange, and it’s beautiful, and Ina’s beautiful, and Azari is kissing her back.

For that moment, nothing else exists.

It’s been a minute, or a few minutes, or an hour, before the two of them pull apart. Azari feels flushed all over. Her mouth buzzes with the memory of Ina’s lips on hers.

She’s certain Ina is in a similar state, but she can’t tell for sure. The shadows have expanded to cover every part of her save for the glint of her teeth in the dark.

A beat of silence, and then:

“Azari, the look on your face!”

“Oh, shut up!!”

But they’re both smiling now, because the world is dark, and the night air is soothing, and nothing warms the heart like cornbread and leftover rice and a shared kiss during a sunset.

Azari relaxes her shoulders and closes her eyes, drinking in the sounds and sensations of nature around her. These are the best nights: whimsical, serene, full of magic. Full of love.

#my words #love you xio!! this really was lots of fun to write so I hope it's to your liking (●´^｀●)

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