#like girl he does NOT look like that he is covered in mud and old blood and tree sap and smells like smoke and weed. but you do you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cassafrassie · 6 months ago

Text

the nerve - (also on ao3) length: 2,535 words rating: T (teenaged kissing)

This is the last time, the last time! Pacifica thinks as she's jumping into the passenger side of Dipper's beat-up old pickup. Next to her, Dipper slams his own door and quickly smacks the lock button, eyes scanning the forest beyond the wide windshield.

"I think we're clear," he says, before spinning to Pacifica excitedly. “Did you get a load of the size of that guy?!”

“I didn’t see much as I was a little busy running for my life!” Pacifica gasps, clutching her chest.

Dipper picks up his camera. “Oh man. This was a good one. I think I got some good shots,” he continues, flipping through the display.

“Dipper! He nearly killed us!”

“Oh Paz, we were fine,” he replies confidently, still looking at his pictures. “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He looks up, reaches over and bops her on the nose, smearing more mud on her already dirty face.

The nerve.

Pacifica glares at him. He always gets like this after monster hunts. Dipper has a cocky streak that usually lies pretty dormant, but something about the shot of the adrenaline that he gets after narrow escapes makes it rise to the surface. At least that’s her theory. The worst part is that can’t pretend she totally hates it, even if it’s currently raising her hackles.

“I’m beginning to regret giving you that thing,” she says, gesturing to the camera.

“No you don’t.” He spins to her and points the lens in her direction. “Who else would take all those pictures of you for “the gram”?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice. He clicks the shutter and Pacifica is blinded by the quick flash.

She rolls her eyes and pushes the camera away, but lets a small smile play on her lips. That photo won’t see the light of day. She’ll make sure of that. Both she and Dipper are absolutely covered in forest filth, and she makes a mental note to swipe the memory card before he drops her off at home later.

Dipper grins, thinking he’s won this round, and reaches behind his truck’s bench seat to place the camera in the rear of the cab. Twisting back, he fiddles with his keys and the ignition until the old clunker finally turns over.

Pacifica lets her mind wander as he navigates them out of the clearing he parked in and back to the main road. Picking leaves from her hair while she watches the trees pass by her window, she wonders why it is that he only lets this side of him come out when they’re alone. Dipper has come a long way from the insecure prepubescent boy she met five years ago, but he’s still pretty reserved and serious in mixed company. When it’s just the two of them, or the two of them and Mabel, it’s like he lights up. He’s sillier, more relaxed, more outspoken, more… is heroic the right word?

And it does things to her, to say the least. And they’re going to have to talk about it soon, because she strongly suspects he’s been feeling… things… too.

She started noticing it when their afternoon monster hunts began turning into twilight strolls around the lake, the two teen’s fingers brushing up against one another as they circled it. When hugs of relief after narrowly escaping death for the umpteenth time began to linger just a little too long. When he grabbed her hand while helping her down a steep rock face, and then held it the whole way home.

She knows a confession is imminent. That he’ll address the shift, the obvious destination they have been barreling toward with increasing velocity.

And sometimes she lets herself fantasize— because why not? She’s a seventeen-year-old girl, isn’t she? She’s allowed to have her little daydreams. She indulges in visions of confessions in a meadow of shimmering flowers. Maybe she’s wearing a long gown that fluttered in the wind. Maybe he brings roses and rides up on a white stallion and sweeps her up and into his lap as the orchestra swells and the credits run and…

Okay yes, she’s getting carried away. So sue her.

She chances a glance at him now. His eyes are trained on the road, hands responsibly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel, easy smile playing on his lips. He must sense her watching him though, because his eyes suddenly dart over to meet hers.

She meets his gaze, gives him a small, reckless smile that clearly carries a secret meaning that they just haven’t put words to just yet. She expects to receive the same smile from him, just as she has so many times before—and especially recently—but instead he just studies her seriously, and she can see the gears spinning in his mind.

His mouth straightens into a determined line as his eyes snap back to the road. Without warning he twists the steering wheel to the right and Pacifica shrieks as he haphazardly directs the truck to a turnout overlooking the valley below. The truck bounces to a rough stop, and Pacifica snaps her head to look at him.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, more confused than angry.

He kills the engine, quickly unbuckles both their seatbelts and twists fully to face her. His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused. He honestly looks a little manic, Pacifica thinks.

Dipper takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens his them, he reaches a grime covered palm toward her equally dirty cheek. He smiles sweetly, and his palm cups her face, one thumb lightly tracing a path across her cheekbone.

“Paz,” he starts, smile broadening as he says her name. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not seriously doing this right now! Not like this! Not covered in mud and leaves and god knows what else, crammed in the front seat of his dilapidated old truck on the side of the road, heartbeat just beginning to return to normal after escaping whatever grumpy cryptid that was that they had woken early from hibernation.

Is he freaking kidding me?!

She watches her hopes of horseback rides into the sunset dissolve in front of her eyes. Disintegrated by the sweat, foliage and mud coating them both.

“Dipper! Now?? I look terrible!”

“I think you look great!” he says and the worst, most terrible part is that she can tell he is being completely sincere.

“I’m covered in mud, Dipper.“

“Maybe I like it,” he smirks, a move that Pacifica knows he thinks is charming.

“You’re a freak,” she deadpans.

Dipper leans in closer, looks her right in the eyes.

“Your freak?” He smiles, hopefully.

Oh my god seriously? He’s such a sap.

Pacifica groans and rolls her eyes, but she also has to fight to keep the corners of her lips from tugging into a smile. She can feel for cheeks warming, and she knows he knows.

“I’m sorry, that doesn’t qualify as a response. You’ll have to use English,” he teases.

“Fine,” she drawls.

“Fine what?”

She is going to murder him. MURDER HIM.

“Oh you know what!”

“I really don’t Paz, did you have something important you wanted to tell me?”

She wants to slap that stupid grin off his face. Or kiss it.

“Dipper!” she whines.

“Hey I’m just trying to get clarity here!”

“Dipper if this is your way of asking a girl out then it’s no wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend before. You’re impossible,” she says crossing her arms and straightening her back.

“Okay okay,” he laughs, settling down. “I’m sorry.” He turns to her, smile sweeter, more earnest. “Let me start over.”

He untangles her crossed arms, grasping her hands with his free one. She feels a shiver at the way his one hand can hold both of hers. When did that happen? She stifles the distraction as she refocuses on what he’s saying.

“Pacifica. You’re one of my best friends,” he continues. “You’re smart, self-assured, funny, a huge dork”— Pacifica opens her mouth to protest but he puts a finger to her lips—“you are, and it’s one of my favorite things about you.”

She scoffs, but lets him continue, cheeks growing warmer.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on, but that’s just the icing on the cake. Because the way I feel about you comes from so much more than that.” He takes a breath, rubs his thumb on her cheek once, and she melts a little. “Pacifica, I...“

Here it comes, she thinks. She gives him a small, encouraging smile, waiting to hear him say the words she’s been imagining in her daydreams, for him to confess that his “like” of her has turned into the special kind. The “like like” kind.

Pacifica figures maybe it’s okay that this is the way it happened. It’s more them. But still, she would have appreciated flowers maybe. She doesn't presume that his feelings for her run deep enough as to justify red roses, but pink maybe...

“…I’m in love with you.”

Wait. What?

Pacifica's brain struggles to rewind and playback, and she ends up just blinking at him for a moment.

“You’re in love with me?” she asks, and her voice sounds so terribly soft to her ears.

“Yeah,” Dipper confirms, face bright red beneath the dirt.

“You love me?” she repeats.

“Yes,” he says again, laughing a little, nervously. But he nevertheless moves his hand from her cheek down to circle the side of her throat, pushing his fingers into her hair.

“No one has ever loved me before,” she says, matter of fact.

“Oh Paz, your parents love you. I know they’re tough on you but I’m sure—“

“No. No I mean like the different kind of love. Like, the voluntary kind. When you don’t have to love someone, you just do. When it’s not because of blood, or because you want their life, or clothes, or ponies. When you just like them. No one has loved me like that.”

He studies her a beat.

“I do,” he says, finally, firmly, not breaking the eye contact. Not taking his hands from her.

Her head feels light, and she’s vaguely aware of that he cheeks are wet. But then she surges forward, and crashes her lips to his, because she can’t not. There’s a magnetic force pulling her in a way she can’t control.

Dipper’s lips are chapped and crusted in dirt, but they’re warm and his she immediately thinks that kissing him is about to be one of her favorite pastimes, and why did they wait so long to do this again?? Dipper responds to her kiss instantly, opening his mouth and seeking entry to hers, which she grants without hesitation. The hand in her hair ventures up to grasp at the back of her head, pushing their lips closer still, as his other wraps around her lower back and tugs her closer to him on the bench seat. Her own needy hands run up his chest to grab the lapels of his flannel, holding him to her as she shifts forward and up on to her knees, eventually ending up straddling his lap. Dipper moans into her mouth and his hands move to grasp her hips, but then he stops, pulls back slightly and takes in a sharp inhale of air, letting it out slowly in what appears to be a practiced attempt to calm himself down.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Paz,” he chuckles, finally, leaning his forehead on hers.

“I could do more,” she says softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” He leans back in his seat, arms loosen around her waist but not letting go. A smug smile plays on his lips. “I’m winning the romance game now, anyway. You gotta catch up.”

She senses a challenge here, which she knows he knows will always pique her interest. She arches an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“Well, I’m the one who said something first. In my book that means I’m leading you in romantic gestures.” He gives her a pointed look. “And confessions, too, actually. I might remind you.”

She laughs. “Okay, dork. I love you too. Even?”

“I mean technically I said I was in love with you. So, I still win.”

“Well I’m in love with you too, then!”

“No copy catting,” he says, grinning as his hands raise to her neck and he leans in.

Her giggles are muffled by his lips once again and she lets him push her back in the seat, tipping her backward until she pivots and is laying down with him hovering over her. He peppers her face with sloppy kisses and works his way down her neck, still a little grimy and sweaty, and Pacifica grins as she thinks that white stallions in springtime meadows might be overrated.

------

Later that night, Pacifica finds herself freshly showered and wearing some spare sweatpants of Mabel’s that she swiped while the latter is out at the movies with Candy and Grenda. She’s cuddled on the couch in the Mystery Shack’s living room, brand new boyfriend— also clean and smelling of mint and evergreen—next to her with a lazy arm stretched around her. She tugs up the blanket they share to her chin and tucks her face into the crook of his neck, kissing it lightly as Dipper begins stroking her hair.

“You know, the reason I’ve never had a girlfriend isn’t because I would suck at asking them out,” he says, after a while. “I happen to think I did pretty darn good here.”

“Settle down, Casanova, you got lucky this one time,” she mumbles, smiling into his neck.

He ignores this, persists in his point.

“You know the reason I haven’t had a girlfriend.” He says, turning so his lips brush the top of her head.

She does, but she wants him to say it. She looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Mmm?”

“Because I’ve only had eyes for one girl since I was fourteen.”

“And who was that?”

“Well I think you know her…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm… gorgeous, witty, bit of a brat…”

“She sounds great.”

“Yeah, she sure thinks so.”

“What stopped you from asking her out?”

“Well I wasn’t sure how she felt for a long time.”

“I bet she was crazy about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, she probably liked your courage, your heart, your smile, your cute floppy hair—“

A loud groan carries into the living room from the kitchen, and Stan strides into the room, making a beeline for the front door.

“Okay, you two have officially crossed over from sweet to gross. Let me know when the honeymoon phase is over, til then I’ll be somewhere where the air doesn’t cause my blood sugar to spike.”

The two teens freeze, then burst into laughter as soon as the door slams behind the old man.

Dipper turns Pacifica in his arms to face him.

“Well would you look at that. Now we have the house to ourselves,” he smirks.

“Look at that,” Pacifica agrees, grinning.

#dipper x pacifica #dipcifica #dipper and pacifica #gravity falls fanfiction #dipper pines #pacifica northwest #dippica #dipifica

444 notes · View notes

simonrileysfavteacup · 8 months ago

Note

Ok so, maybe this is gonna be a bit further into the future when Tommy’s a bit grown up (teenage maybe).

So your doing laundry and see that your son hasn’t been doing his chores and you go up to his room and see him playing his video games as usual, and you softly chastise him about his chores.

And he surprises you with his outburst, and he actually swears at you. And you flinch at the sound, astounded that your own son, your baby boy talked you into that manner.

Simon. Is. Pissed. He loves Tommy, but he will never tolerate him disrespecting you. Simon knows how much work you put into being a mother. Simon goes full on stern dad mode.

Imma let you decide what happens next 🤭🤭

THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA WTFFFFF

Run through here for anyone confused about all the characters

***

Sundays were your favourite days. You loved the relaxation, the peace, the days off. Simon had been home for a few days. Your kids, Tommy, Emma, Lilah, and Alex, were ecstatic. Atleast, the twins were. The second Simon walked through the door, they wanted to play games and go outside and all that. Emma was just happy her dad was home and safe. She had been her father’s daughter from the moment she came out of the womb.

Tommy, however, your eldest, was a bit closed off. He practically sat in his room all day and never came out, It was starting to get on your nerves.

You were doing Simon’s laundry when you notice Tommy’s dirty clothes that you had asked him to wash still sitting by the laundry machine. You roll your eyes, heading into his room. “Bubby?”

“What?” he doesn’t turn to look at you, still focused on his PC.

“You didn’t do your laundry.”

“So what?”

“You need those clothes for school.”

“So you wash them. I’m busy.”

“Bubby, you’re old enough to wash them yourself.”

“Don’t call me that and isn’t it your job? It’s not like you work or anything. Dad does all of that. All you do is cook and clean and-”

“Thomas Riley!” His words hit deep in your chest.

“What? God, why do you always have to be such a bitch?”

That was it. He hit a nerve. You turn, walking out of his room, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. You head into your room, holding a pillow to your chest. His words hung in the air.

Simon walks in moments later, covered in mud after a football game with the twins. “HI lovie,” he smiles before noticing the tears on your cheeks. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you turn away from him.

“You can’t lie to me, lovie.”

“Tommy yelled at me and he called me a bitch…said my only job was to cook and clean…”

“He what?” Simon is fuming.

“Please, don’t say anything to him…”

“He’s getting grounded. You stay here,” Simon walks out, running into Lilah. “Oi. Go to mom. She’s sad.”

The little girl nods and pads off to see you.

Simon walks to his eldest son’s room. Tommy turns in his gaming chair. “What?”

“Off the game or I unplug it,” Tommy rolls his eyes but turns off his game. “What did you say to your mom?”

“Nothing.”

“You lie just like her,” Simon holds back a chuckle. “She’s crying and it’s because of you. You know how much she does for you? And you swore at her. Go apologise. You’re grounded. No games for a month.”

Tommy looks down at his feet, guilty. He walks off to your room, where Lilah curls into you. You look up as Tommy sits on the edge of your bed. “Ma?”

You look at him.

“Ma, I’m sorry. I kinda let my emotions get the better of me. Didn’t mean to yell at you…just…I found out Lizzie was cheating and I’ve had a real bad week and I took it out on you. Please forgive me?”

A moment passes.

You open your arms, letting him curl into you. “She cheated?”

“With Neil,” he sighs. “I’m never dating again.”

“That’s what we all say, bubby.”

641 notes · View notes

your-highnessmarvel · 1 year ago

Text

Repairs

Requested by @talesofreading : Would you write something where you're a close friend of Steve and one time as your Bike needs some repair, he tells you to bring it to Bucky as he's good in fixing it. You're hesitant first as you have a bad crush on him but you decide to do it. So when you get there he's wearing a muscle Shirt, is all dirty and Looks pretty hot with his metal arm. So after you watch him fix your bike you can't resist the way he also Looks at you, so it happens that you end up in his shower together with some passionate smut. Later then he asks you for a proper date? 🤭

AN: omg this was sooooo good to write omg

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT, piv, oral (f receiving), fingering, language

*gif not mine

MASTERLIST

"Yep, totally busted," Steve said, looking back up at you from where he knelt next to your smoking bike.

You put a hand to your sweaty forehead. Both of you had been at this for the better part of the afternoon, trying to figure out what was wrong with your motorcycle. Steve was in his white wifebeater, stained black from oil and grim, nails coated in dirt. He'd sweated right through his shirt and even his jeans were full of mud and dirt.

You'd sweated your fair share as well, competing with dirt under your nails and sweat right into your hairline. you didn't look any better, but you didn't care; this was your best friend, after all, and you had no reason to try to impress him.

"You know what?" Steve said, putting his tools back into his box. "You should go see Bucky."

You immediately rolled your eyes.

"He's good with bikes, y/n," he commended, seeing the way you shook your head.

"Is this another ploy to set me up with your grumpy best friend?" you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

Steve got to his feet, dirt-stained hands going right into his pockets. "I mean it, y/n," he said, almost scolded. "I'm not as savvy with bikes as he is. He'd do it if you said I sent you."

"Then come with me!" you said. "Every time I'm alone with him, there's this awkward silence and all he does is grunt as a response."

Steve smiled. "I wish I could come, but I've got a date," he answered.

"Yeah, right," you grumbled. You watched him carefully, your best friend and mentor, and something along the edges of his eyes was curious.

He was shy.

"Who is she?" you asked.

He shrugged. "A girl that I saw at the library." He cut that off pretty short, picking up his tools, his towel, and throwing the keys back at you. "Now, get to Bucky's before it's nightfall."

Bucky lived way out of the city, into the utopian suburbs. You found it funny that this was the life that Bucky chose. After everything you'd heard from him, you'd pictured him in a dingy, half-lit, half-crumbling one-bedroom in Manhattan. Not in the outskirts of the city.

Thank God your car could pull a trailer, or else you'd have had to ask Bucky to meet you at your place, and that just wasn't happening. The thousand-year-old soviet asset was known to be a judger of literally everything.

You pulled into Bucky's parking space, the garage to his tiny little house open, like a black mouth ready to swallow you in. By this time, it was nearing four in the afternoon, and the sun was searing, hot and humid, and with just a foot out of your car, you were already sweating.

You closed the door loudly, maybe trying to announce your presence so you didn't have to knock on the door.

"Hey." It was Bucky, coming out of the shadows of his garage. It took you a second to get the hinges in your jaw to work because, damn.

You'd always thought of Bucky as a man who passed as good looking. Well, when you met him, he was still in heavy therapy and on government surveillance. He still had long, matted brown hair and a face dragged down by sorrow.

But now. Now he'd taken to cleanly shave his hair, leaving a few inches of thick, curling locks on top of his hair, not totally covering his ears. And even though he was slimmer than the last time you'd seen him - he hadn't been working out as much - he still looked... better. Real better.

"Hey," you said, awkwardly waving at him. He was carrying a white rag, cleaning his hands from oil or dirt or whatever else he'd been doing. "Steve said I could come to you if I had problems with my bike?"

He pursed his lips. He came closer, out of the shadows and into the mid-afternoon sun, and you got a good glimpse at him. Golden skin, scars matting his hand, his knuckles. He was wearing a muscle shirt, the kind that was maybe a bit too small for him, molding to his muscles, straining across his metal bicep.

You'd never really seen the arm before. Only flickers of his hands or fingers, but never the entire machine.

You licked your lips, something squeezing in your lower belly.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

you shrugged. "Dunno."

He glazed his eyes, rolled them. "Alright, take it down and bring it into the garage."

With a tiny sigh of resentment - he wasn't helping you - you unlatched the ties of your bike and rolled it into the garage. it was darker, a little cooler, inside. As you settled your bike in the dead center of the room, Bucky brought two stools, effortlessly carrying them around.

He sat on his and motioned with a wrench for you to sit beside him. Even though you'd sweated all day in your black t-shirt, and God knows whatever he'd down today, there was something terrific about sitting this close to Bucky.

His tanned fingers worked to open up the bike, his metal hand working the wrench.

"Ah," he said, poking around the engine. "I see what's wrong."

"Is it fixable?" you asked.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, darling," he whispered.

You swallowed the heat climbing up your throat, watching him get to work in silence. Unlike Steve, Bucky didn't tell you what he was doing or why; he just did it.

It took longer than expected. And the more he worked, straining against your bike, the sweatier he got, the more figetting you did.

His flesh arm was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His hand was veined, strained against the metal piece he was holding aside. His fingers were dirty with grime and dust. Even that God damned muscle shirt was stained with dirt and sweat and grime.

By the time he was done, a light sheet of rain was coating the ground outside. It was pitter-pattering against the cement, a slow drone of rain against the tin roof. Almost comforting.

"You can't take your bike out in the rain," he said, putting everything back in its place, stowing his tools and his rags.

You gulped. "Yeah, I'm sure the rain will let off soon." You dragged your sweaty palms onto your jeans nervously. It caught Bucky's eye.

He stood, dragging your eyes up to his figure. He was so tall, so wide at the shoulders, sweating in his shirt, hair a mess.

"I've got beer inside," he said, throwing the rag in the corner of the garage, placing his tools on his self-made wooden desk. Then he turned to you and gestured to the front door. "Come on."

You followed him out into the rain, walking quickly up the steps and into his home, which smelled of him, something woodsy, and air freshener.

You were humid, rain dotting your skin as you took off your sneakers and followed him into the kitchen. The air conditioning was making you cold.

his home was cozy but so boyish. No decorations but a huge TV. A grey couch with not pillows or blankets. Empty liquor bottles as props over the refrigerator, which droned on and on. There was only one magnet on his fridge, and it read "I love NY!" Which was ironic because Bucky didn't love anything.

"Here," he said, offering you an ice cold beer, but it did nothing to warm you up. You leaned back against his kitchen counter, sipping on your beer, watching him poke around the inside of his fridge. The yellow light cast on his face like a glow, and he hummed when he found what he wanted.

By the time he took out the rolled up cheese, he saw you shivering by the sink.

"I'm sorry," you said, settling the beer down. "I'm just a bit cold from the rain."

He hummed, slamming the cheese rolls on the kitchen table.

"We ought to warm you up," he said, diving back into the fridge to get a beer, which he opened and took a five good gulps before he wiped his wet mouth.

"Yeah," you chuckled, pressing your hands against your arms, searching for heat.

The super soldier, immune to any heat or cold or anything really, stood before you with his sticky muscle shirt molding to every nook in his muscles. His arms, his chest, down to his abs. Water had made it almost see-through, and you felt like a perv watching as he breathed, watching his muscles contract beneath the fabric.

"You should take a shower, y/n," he said, tone low.

You startled, eyes dragging from his abs to his face in a split second. Did you smell? Was that why he'd said that?

"You're shivering, poor thing," he said, clucking his tongue, taking another wild swing of his beer. And you noticed that he was eyeing you took, at your jeans sticking to your thighs, your hips. At your wet shirt glueing to the curve of your waist and breasts.

He set his beer down and offered his hand. "Come."

On some instinct you'd never registered before, you took his hand, flesh fingers warm and calloused.

He led you into a small bathroom with no windows. where various male paraphernalia was strewn across the sink. He pulled the shower curtian back and started the shower and you just stood there like a fish out of water; mouth slightly agape, your hand still loosely holding on to his.

"Bucky?"

He hummed.

"I don't get it," you said.

He returned his gaze to yours, satisfied with the steam rising from the shower. He gave you a small, tight smile. "Get undressed," he said, gesturing his chin at you, dropping your hand.

You stood there like a statue, examining him; from the hard jawline, the seriousness in his eyes, the way his skin pulled back when he moved his mouth.

Then, harder this time, "Get undressed or freeze, sweetheart."

The nickname, the pet name, sent a wave of fresh heat right into your face.

He watched, then slowly, he smiled. Like a rpedator trying to win its prey without having to sink teeth into flesh.

He took a tiny step towards you, watching your breath hitch, and he slid metal fingers under your shirt, pulling it up until it came right off your head. Your hair flopped back down over your shoulders, covering your bra.

He bit his lip. You watched, entranced as he moved to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs. He was agile because he took your panties off with it.

He came back to his full towering height, and he brushed your hair behidn your shoulders, exposing your chest, your full flesh to him.

He snaked an arm around your waist, and you gulped, the feel of his hands, burning metal fingers, was like a lightning bolt had erupted under your skin.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, close to your ear, his breath in your hair. "So fucking gorgeous." He slid his metal hand up and then your bra was sliding off your arms.

"Let me touch you, y/n," he whispered in your ear. You gulped, nodded. "Use your words, sweetheart," and his voice was rugged, wretched, as both his hands slid careful fingertips up on your ribcage.

"Yes, Bucky," you whispered.

He huffed against you. And then his metal hand engulfed your breast, knead it the way he wanted, and his lips found your neck. You whimpered, taken by surprise by his sudden act of devotion. His tender fingers pulling your nipple, drumming against your ribs, lips leaving a wet trail of kisses up your jugular.

When he kissed you, his mouth was warm and wet, and he molded his lips to yours carefully, like he didn't want to scare you off.

You kissed him back just as carefully, confused and distraught, unaware that for years, Bucky had been yearning for this opportunity. For this moment where he finally had you alone.

Quickly, the kiss became rougher. Your hands pulled at the soft, thick strands of his hair and he pulled you aainst his with his metal arm around your waist. He nipped at you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, groaning as his flesh finger felt you.

He skimmed along your navel, until he could cup you in his palm. You squeaked, taken by surprise. "Easy there, princess," he whispered against your mouth. "Just wanna make you feel good."

He dove right back for a kiss, delving his tongue behidn your teeth while his fingers started working circles around your clit.

You had realized how riled up he'd gotten you, like a hardwire ready to snap.

You bent like a bow in his arms, moaning against his mouth as his fingers continued to circle your clit in slow, languid circles. And when he prodded farther, where you most ached for him, he moaned against your mouth when he felt just how soaked you were.

"Fuck, y/n," he groaned, pulling his mouth from yours.

You almost whimpered at the lost of contact, but he picked you up so effortlessly, so quickly, that you hadn't registered that you were now sitting on the edge of the sink until you couldn't see him anymore. All you could see was the steam rising from the shower, clogging the bathroom, settling on your skin in dotted water drops.

And Bucky, on his knees, pulling your knees apart. His eyes, hooded and so blue, looked up at you as he kissed the inside of your thigh.

"One leg on my shoulder, baby," he ordered, his metal hand under your thigh, helped you move until you were almost straddling his face. "That's it, good girl," he groaned, biting into the plush of your thighs.

The angle sent you backward, back against the cold mirror, and one hand hanging onto the edge. Ready to plummet or fly, you couldn't tell.

His mouth teetered around your pussy, kissing along your thighs, until he settled over your clit and gave you one long swipe of his tongue.

Your head fell backwards, eyes closing, hips searching for his mouth.

"You taste so sweet," he cooed, pressing another long lick from your hole to your clit.

A strangled moan escaped your clenched teeth when he sucked on your clit, one of your hands digging into his hair and pulling him where you wanted him.

The room was filled with the filthy sound of Bucky getting his fill, lapping you up and sucking in your clit like a man starved. Both hands leaving ink-blue marks in your hips.

He worshipped your clit, flicking and sucking to a rhythm that had your thighs shaking against his face, with you pulling his hair by the roots. He sucked and fucked your hole with his tongue until a knot formed right under your belly button and exploded in white hot lightning.

As your orgasm washed through you in waves, rocking against his face, a moan hitched in your throat.

Bucky held your thighs open, refusing to let them close, and lapped up his fill.

When you were but a trembling, babbling mess, Bucky it into your thigh, kissing up your knee until he was standing between your legs. His eyes were hooded, pupils blown, mouth red and glittering, swollen from the kisses he'd lain on your clit.

"Come 'ere," he groaned, grabbing you by the back of the neck, bringing you upright on the counter. He brought his mouth to yours in a feverish, harsh kiss that left you dizzy and scrambling to keep up with him.

You pushed him away, grappling at his shirt, pulling it over his head. You gorged on the sight, on the tanned skin exposed, the scar where his metal shoulder meshed with his flesh. You touched the tips of your fingers to his metal shoulder, skimming down to his hand.

He took your mouth again, pressing you back into the mirror, hands in your hair, on your breast, skimming down back to your dripping hole.

He entered one flesh finger, pressing against your walls, so slippery and warm. He hummed, feeling your breasts against his chest as you bowed your back at the sensation.

You patted him through his pants, feeling him warm and hard against your touch. He hissed at the sensation, nipping at your mouth.

He continued to move his digit in and out of you, pressing his palm to your clit. You continued palming him, pressing against the impressive length of him until he groaned and took himself out of his pants, dropping them at his ankles and kicking them away.

Your mouth opened in a small 'o' at the sight of him, hard and thick, tip dripping precum.

"Too much for you sweetheart?" he asked, pressing his forehead to yours, thumbs on each side of your jaw.

You shook your head, gulped, saw the faint smile that crossed his face. He watched you with keen eyes as he lined himself with your soaked heat.

He pressed his thumb against your mouth, kissing you, as he slowly inched in. He watched you take it, watched as your mouth opened, brows curving upward.

"Don't give up on me baby," he whispered, nipping at your mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw.

He slid himself to the hilt, grabbing your hip in a bruising grip, metal hand pressed against the foggy mirror over your head.

You gasped, latching onto his shoulders for dear life as he pulled back and thrust back into you, feeling you clench and flitter around him.

You whimpered, body pressing up against the mirror with one harsh thrust from his hips.

"That feel good, huh?" he asked, boring his eyes into yours, keeping a slow, languid pace with his hips. "Tell me, y/n, that feel good when I fuck you?"

You nodded, feeling him slick, sliding into you with ease, stretching your walls and hitting that spot deep in you that made you writhe.

"Yes, Bucky," you answered, breathlessly, scratching at his flesh shoulder.

He groaned, taking your mouth with his, speeding up his thrusts, making your head catch on the mirror. You moaned against his mouth, giving up full control of your body to his, at the mercy of every thrust, every change in rhythm.

"Taking me so well," he grunted, hiding his face in your shoulder, bruising grip on your hip helping him thrust himself deeper into you. Then he pulled himself up, face hovering over yours, searching your gaze wildly. "You like it when I fucked this tight little hole?" he asked, and again, his tone was scratching the surface of something wilder.

You nodded, feeling a knot form in your belly, your thighs closing around his hips. His mouth stretched into a smile, pounding deeper and faster into you. "Yeah, you do," he said, almost mockingly, pressing a sweaty forehead to yours. "I see the way you always look at me," he grunted, kissing your mouth, humming at the moan that left your lips.

"Bucky, please," you whispered, eyes falling shut, your orgasm on the brink of breaking.

"I feel you, y/n, come on," he grunted, keeping a harsh, pounding pace until your legs shook and your orgasm broke through you in waves. "Fuck, that's so tight," he breathed, chasing his own end, pounding into your tightening hole.

A stuttered moan left your lips as you clung to Bucky, rocking into your orgasm with every thrust, feeling the wave of pleasure reach your toes. His metal hand came slamming onto the mirror beside your ear, cracking into the glass as he pounded into you, breathless and wordless until he gave you a few sloppy thrusts and he was spending himself in you.

He stayed there a few moments, breathing with you, kissing you softly until he pulled out of you. You stuttered, a breath hitched in your throat, as you felt him leaking out of you.

He met your gaze, leaning back to examine his work, and then he slowly helped you to your feet. You giggled at your loss of coordination, hearing Bucky chuckle too as he helped you into the shower.

You let the warm spray wash his seed from the inside of your thighs, soak into your hair.

"Warm enough?" he asked, chin on your shoulder.

You chuckled. "I've been warm enough for a little while."

He hummed, placing both hands along your waist. He helped you wash up, lathering your skin and hair, helping you wash out the suds.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pressing tender kisses to your shoulder. "You're quiet."

"Yes," you answered, looking over your shoulder at him. "Are you?"

He smiled, eyes low. He raised his brows. "I am now," he whispered.

When you were done with the shower and you were both drying up, Bucky tied his towel around his waist and watched you put your hair up in a towel.

"What?" you asked.

He snorted. "It isn't like me to do...this," he said, leaning against the sink. His chest was wet, glistening spots lingering down to his abs. It was enough to make you want to do this again.

You smiled but didn't answer, focused on getting your towel around your torso.

"Do you want to go out to dinner sometime?" he asked, and you looked up, met his eyes across the steamy bathroom, and smiled.

"Yeah, of course."

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky smut #bucky x you #bucky x yn #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #smut #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the winter soldier

519 notes · View notes

johnsbirdie · 3 months ago

Text

blue collar!price and white collar!fem reader

cw: i don’t really know

(i just thought of this and was like this is like totally price)

john is on his break, his rough, callused hands, caked in grime and dirt embedded deep within. he’s smoking a fat cigar to ease the pain (in his knees), he’s getting old now, which is quite easy to tell because his beard is greying - but to his luck you can’t exactly see his salt and pepper hair because his wide-brimmed bucket hat fortunately covers that.

surely he looked disgusting to people outside of the job. the other workers on the site, simon, kyle and johnny, saw him like this everyday of their lives and shrug off the fact he looked like a pig after it rolled around in mud.

and it just so happens that the construction site he works on, there’s a little office building right beside it. how lucky is he?

the chain-smoking, rugged older man set his sights on a little birdie in a tight little pencil skirt. he whistles unashamedly, so you can hear it. he knows you heard him. and you did. you’re walking along, cup holders full with coffee to bring back for your boss, you were a little surprised when he told you to get what you wanted with his card, he seemed to be in a good mood lately.

the wolf-whistle is the thing that nearly makes you drop the coffee-filled plastic cups, and when you look over, there’s a man double your own age with a smirk on his face. what a smug bastard.

“oi, pretty! you in a rush?” he calls out to you, stepping off of some planks of wood he was stood on.

god, you really did not have time for any chit-chat at the moment. you had to get back to work, not that it was any better than the man who had whistled at you, because your quite the talk of the town in the marketing department. all the old men must really like you, huh.

“i am, actually. sorry about that.” you brush him off, the noise of your heels clacking against the pavement infront of the site increasing the faster you walk. you did not want to speak to some roughed up, man old enough to be your dad.

but, does that stop john? absolutely not. he catches up to you before you can even make it into the office building, and he blocks your path.

“nah, you can’t be in a rush, you’re stood here with little ��ol me.” he says that just to spite you, and when you try to step around him, he blocks your path once more.

“i’m only stood here with you because you’re not letting me move.” you huff. did he not understand that you didn’t want to talk? he was probably just some creep that liked to hit on girls half his age, which, to be fair, is what he was doing right now.

“aye. c’mon love, giv’us a twirl.” he cocks a brow, looking down at you. he towers over you by nearly a whole foot if you weren’t wearing heels.

ugh, who was this guy? a complete and utter prick, you thought. you really shouldn’t pay him any mind.

“do you mind moving, please? i need to get back to work.” you look up at him, your lips pressed into a thin line. you were on the verge of just throwing the starbucks drinks all over him, just to be a bitch about it.

he stands there. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watching you with his piercing blue eyes. he knows he shouldn’t pressure you, he didn’t really mean to come off as a creep. he just thought you were a pretty little thing and he liked pretty little things. but you didn’t seem to like him very much.

“mm. go on. i didn’t mean to be a dickhead, sweetheart. i’m sorry.” he eventually speaks, moving out of your way. which surprised you initially, not expecting that at all from him.

“oh, i… yeah, no, it’s okay. thank you.” you say, your voice a little small as you give him one last glance before heading into work.

until next time birdie. he thinks to himself as he watches your figure disappear into the office building.

#call of duty #captain johnathan price #captain john price #cod #john price #johnathan michael price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #blue collar #white collar #blue collar x white collar reader #blue collar!john #support #like #john price x reader #sophie

137 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 5 months ago

Note

Hey Angel :D I'm not dead 😋!!

For my ask; what about modern sev with a little shit that couldn't give a damn about consequences Like imagine after like idk they play soccer or some shit and before they get in the car they yell at a kid like "YOUR AIM WAS ASS AND YOUR MOM'S A BITCH!" and immediately just scurry over to sev like "hi ma :)"

micron!!! welcome back!! this idea is SOOOO perfect i love it

men and minors dni

little fucker wasn't always called little fucker.

when she was a baby, still too tiny to talk or walk, you and sevika referred to her with much more traditional nicknames.

'peanut' when she was still a newborn, tiny enough to fit in one of your arms.

'sweet girl' when she was being cute, cuddling against sevika's chest or wrapping her entire hand around your pointer finger.

'baby' most commonly-- usually with an adjective in front. 'stinky baby' when she's got a full diaper, 'sleepy baby' when she's yawning and cranky, 'beautiful baby' when you're rocking her to sleep, humming lullabies to her.

but as she grew and her personality developed, 'little fucker' quickly became the most frequently used nickname for your baby.

she's a mischievous, impulsive, goofball.

at two years old, she watches sevika flip someone off in heavy traffic, and despite that her tiny hands can't figure out a simple peace sign, she manages to figure out the middle finger.

she shoots it at anyone and everyone. the mailman, the old man standing behind the three of you in line at the grocery store, the neighbor's dog-- nobody's safe from little fucker's middle finger. luckily, she's cute enough for people to just laugh when she does it.

when she figures out what money is, and that money can buy candy, your little girl starts stealing.

she'll harass anyone who enters your home. 'gimmie a dollar,' or 'show me your wallet,' only to steal the cash and run to her room, hiding it in a shoebox under her bed.

again-- people think it's cute, and they never bother telling you or sevika that your daughter's just robbed them (especially since she only robs them a dollar at a time.) you find out what's been happening when you're cleaning her room and find around a hundred crumbled up one dollar bills under her bed. sevika thinks it's the funniest thing she's ever seen.

when she's old enough to start going to pre-school, you and sevika get texts from her teachers on a daily basis. she never goes far enough to get in any real trouble-- but she's just so fucking funny all her teachers need to tell another adult about how goofy your baby is. you, sevika, and the three women who run the day-care are all in a groupchat titled 'little fucker chronicles.'

a lot of it's just pictures of her covered in mud or dirt or paint.

some of it's stories about her handing out her own form of justice to kids who don't share toys-- putting worms in their hair or ignoring them in a round of hide and seek, making them stay cramped and hidden for an hour.

and of course, all the crazy shit she says to other kids sent back to you and sevika: 'my mommy could beat your dad up. he looks wimpy.' or, 'do you know what b-i-t-c-h spells? no? well, it's something that you are.' and, your personal favorite, 'no i don't have any brothers or sisters, i'm already a handful.'

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

120 notes · View notes

featheredclover · 1 month ago

Text

September Rain

Chapter Ten

Also on Wattpad

Read from the beginning

Chapter Nine>> <<Chapter Eleven

She settled against her pillow snugly. After the morning bus ride back to campus, she had crashed into her bed. Preeto had left to spend her afternoon with horses, and Mona was snoring beside her. God bless Sundays!

Kicking her feet under the covers, Khushi blushed. Her lips tingled , as she recalled the fervour with which he had kissed her.

She hadn’t said anything. She couldn’t believe it had happened. Arnav had always been a buzz under her skin. But she hadn’t dreamt of kissing him.

Running trembling fingers over her lips, she flushed.

Turning over, she pulled the cover tighter over her. The globe sitting on her bed side table caught her eye. With a sigh, she reached over and picked it up. He had gifted it on her thirteenth birthday.

A girl and boy with yellow raincoats, playing with paper boats under the rain.

She turned it over.

To my Khushi~ happy 13!~ Love, Arnav

She hugged it to herself. All these years with Arnav…and here she was mooning over him. He had kissed her, she thought with a wide smile.

What comes next? Do they date?

Khushi frowned. What will change if they date? Will that ease and sense of home she had always known to have with him fade and disappear? Will they fight like Di and Akash bhaiya?

She sat up with a jolt.

No!

She wanted her Arnav to be just like before. She didn’t want their friendship to dwindle away, even at the prospect of something so…so beautiful.

Flopping back on her bed, she didn’t fight the blush as her thoughts went right back to last night, as sleep pulled her in finally.

————-

“Khushi!”

She looked up from her maths homework, glittered with pencil shavings.

“Arnav asked me to tell you he wanted to meet at 6” Preeto mumbled while unlacing her charcoal black boots, now marred with mud stains.

“Where?”, she asked , hoping the catch in her voice didn’t alarm Preeto.

“He didn’t say”, she frowned “He was weird today, I must say”

“Weird?” Khushi stood up, her legs leading her to Preeto as she wrung her hands together.

“Yup!”, she grabbed a towel “He fell off Basanti! Can you imagine? The calmest of horses! And when he stood up, he was just grinning like an idiot! Something was really wrong with Raizada today”

With a shrug, Preeto was off to shower, leaving Khushi with her thoughts.

Grinning like an idiot? That sure sounds a lot like her today.

————

The sun had lent a purple tint to the sky as it began to set. Lamps were flickering as the evening breeze sent a chill down her spine.

Khushi tugged at her brown sweater as she hurried towards their stairs.

He stood there, with his back towards her. His head bent, as if reading something.

She couldn’t bring herself to break the solace he was in. Or so she told herself.

Standing at the entrance, her foot hovered in hesitation.

What does one say after a mind blowing kiss?

She had simply mumbled “good night!” and hurried off the night before.

The swish of his shoes made her look up. His hair fell over his forehead, making him look like the eleven year old who had shared sodas with her.

She desperately wished she was funny at that moment. A witty line could have broken this awkward ice between them!

“You-you fell off Basanti?”

He let out a strangled laugh.

“Ya, she brought me back to earth really quickly”

She smiled, “She’s the sweetest thing! Only you could have done something to provoke her!”

“You are to be blamed!”

She stilled at his accusation.

“I was thinking about last night”, he continued as she said nothing. His face pale, under the dim light.

“L-Last night”, she stuttered.

“Last night”, his voice bursting with strength, as he stepped closer.

“Yeah, um..it was..”

“Good?”,he held her waist in his arms, even as her breath hitched.

With a raised eyebrow , he seemed like the devil reincarnated. A sexy one, she finished in her head.

“Yeah ... .nice”, she mumbled absently.

“Nice?”,he frowned.

His baritone voice made her skin erupt into goosebumps.

She shivered as he pulled her closer.

“We will have to change that review won’t we?”, he whispered before bending down to take over her lips.

A whimper escaped her as pure pleasure pervaded her veins. Her mind was reeling as he continued his onslaught.

Her hand fisted around his collar, as he tightened his hold around her waist.

She felt warm all over, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue invading her mouth. A muffled moan escaped her, but she was too entranced to be mortified.

She broke away for air, her heart pounding a mile a minute. But she found that he simply couldn’t stop. Showering pecks on her lips, he mumbled her name before kissing down her neck.

Her stomach swooped against the still unfamiliar feeling, as she jumped.

“Arnav”, she almost pleaded.

She felt his chest rise against her, as he took a deep breath. Resting his forehead against hers, he looked deep into her eyes. Seduced from the warmth his embrace brought, she couldn’t bring herself to untangle from him.

“Good enough?”, his hoarse voice belied the laughter in his eyes.

“Shut up”, she whispered before hugging him close.

The sky clouded over, hiding the moon, granting an illusion of privacy.

Tagging: @hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm @atomicmentalitytruimph

------

Next chapter>>

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

#ipkknd #arshi #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #fanfic #ipk 13th anniversary fiesta #arnav x khushi #arnavsinghraizada #ipkknd fanfic #ipkknd ff

27 notes · View notes

pixeechix21 · 1 year ago

Text

Halloween Hunt

Scream-inspired Ghostface:

Oneshot

ghostface x fem!reader

TW: knife play, primal, mask kink, chasing, rough sex, vulgar words, choking, blood play (v. minor dw), smut, alcohol mentioning, unprotected, p in v, scare/fear kink, rape (not the main characters, side character is under suspicion)

word count:1037

PT1

PT2here

Sunday:

Fuck. You really shouldn’t be here, you panickingly grope about looking for somewhere to hide. It’s of no use, it’s dark outside and there’s barely any light coming from the mansion. You see a black figure hunched over, their arm going down in an arc swiftly, continuously. You look to where their movements end and it's a massacred pile of clothes soaking in liquid. You nearly vomit all the alcohol out of your system. You’re breathing heavily trying desperately not to attract the masked figure’s attention. I need to get out of here, you think. Without any further hesitation you sprint, slipping in the mud, and pushing the twigs out of your way. The leaves and skeletal arms reach out to drag you down, you look over your shoulder to check, but it’s not there. You can’t see it. At this point your car is within sight, the blaring music from the party is audible, the deep bass thumps in tune with your pounding heart. You see safety, you check once more just to make sure you’re not crazy. And there it is the white ghost face mask,the only thing visible in the dark woods. Standing there, knife dripping blood next to his feet, looking at you head tilted in fascination.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” you curse wildly grappling your keys out of your pocket. You turn to open your door, shaking tremendously. Then you see it in the reflection coming closer. A leathered hand grips your face, covering your mouth. Your screams are muffled and no air is entering your nose, feeling as if you are about to pass out.

His heavy breathing comes up close to your ear. “Hello princess.” He whispers roughly. “Good girls like you shouldn’t be out so late,” cold hard metal touches your neck. You tilt your head back trying to get away, and your struggles are useless against his strength. The blade teases to break your skin, a small pearly globule of blood forms slowly. You can smell his cologne with the metallic aroma of blood mixed with leather.

“Please,” you plead with both hands gripping his arm.

“How much I’ve wanted to hear you beg,” he says humorously. His body flushes you to your car, forcing you to bend over slightly. You can feel his muscles through his costume. Costume? Is it really a costume if you act like the psycho you're dressed up as?

“I swear I didn’t see anything,” you go on. Unexplainably you start to heat up at the proximity of this man.

“What a shame I like it when people watch. Seeing them squirm and struggle. Do you like it?” He asks in a low voice. “I bet you do like it. Maybe next time y/n,” he doesn’t give you a chance to process the meaning of what he says before cold air surrounds you. You spin around, and he’s gone. Questions swarm your mind. How does he know my name? Next time, am I going to see him again? Who the fuck is he? Who was it on the floor in the woods?

You lock yourself in the car and floor it out of the parking lot.

Halloween:

The body was Jason Mandura, a man in his twenties that was under suspicion of child abuse and raping a 12-year-old girl. When you saw the police at school questioning people you felt as if you should’ve confessed or something, but deep in my heart you full-heartedly agree that they deserved what they got.

“Y/n, where did you go Sunday night?” Sheila asks you, walking to ancient history with you. You forgot to text her, and when you got home you immediately crashed overwhelmed with that night's events.

“I’m sorry I was way too tired to party, I ended up going home early,” you mutter out an excuse that makes your best friend look at you sideways. “I was just asking because apparently there were sightings of the killer that night,” she says worried. “Yeah, no, don’t worry, I was safe at home eating popcorn or something,” you continue holding the books closer to you as you feel a presence staring at you. Call it intuition but your back heats up knowing that he’s probably here, close by. Close enough to know your name.

“Okay phew, well have fun! See you at Devin’s later!” she blows you kisses and you hurry into your lecture hall.

The professor is droning on about byzantine war tactics and then you feel it again. From behind you, there’s shuffling, you don’t dare look back. There’s nothing stopping you but there’s something thrilling not knowing. “Good morning princess,” his soft voice causes the hair to stand up. His two hands are on either side of your chair.

“Shhh I’m trying to listen to the professor,” you say without thinking. The second you hear him laughing lightly your head shoots up eyes wide. What the fuck goes through your mind idiot? You cuss yourself out.

“Gained some confidence, not scared anymore are you, y/n?” he radiates his warmth, making the room stuffier.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you state matter of factly with all the confidence that you don’t have.

“How do you know?” he smirks.

“I didn’t do anything bad, you only killed that man because he was a rapist,” you continue.

“Well well, maybe. Maybe not.” You remain quite unsure of what to say. “Let's play a game, tag? Tonight at Devin’s if I see you before you see me, I’ll give you ten seconds to run.Understood? Then we’ll see what I will and won’t do.” You're blushing at the opportunity, there’s something erotic about this, how he can do whatever he wants to you. The thrill of being hunted, of being wanted enough to be sought after and hunted.

You nod, going to turn your head. Your heart beating frantically in your chest. “Tsk, not yet,” he says disapprovingly. “See you later, and wear this,” he reaches over your shoulder and sets a pink bag on your notepad. You gulp seeing how his arm is colored in tattoos; snakes and a quote you can’t quite discern. Then he leaves, taking your iced coffee cup with him. Asshole.

84 notes · View notes

prismatica-the-strange · 13 days ago

Text

The End of the World as We Know It | Swing and Turn

Warnings: 18+, none

Pure Daryl and Loveday fluff.

Jubilee by Morningsiders | Banner By @saradika-graphics | Dividers by @firefly-graphics

"Found'ya somethin'," Daryl says, gently tossing her the bundle of fabric.

Loveday flashes him a smile before shaking out the thick wool coat in her hands, not realizing what it is for a moment, "Thanks... Uh... Why?"

He looks at her, confused, "Gettin' colder'n y'don' got'a coat."

"Oh," She's noticed him and the rest of Alexandria start layering up more and more each day despite it not dropping bellow fifty out.

"Know it ain't yer style, but I don' wan'a see you freeze on me."

She doesn't have the heart to tell him she'll probably never wear it as long as they live here, so she stands to kiss his cheek, "Thanks, baby."

Winter sets in quickly and the temperature continues to drop, but never going so low as to warrant wearing such a heavy coat.

He leaves it lying out for her on chillier mornings but always finds her later wearing a hoodie or flannel shirt instead.

One night, while she's sat in the window of their house, knitting and waiting for him to come back from a run, it starts to snow.

It's been years since she's seen snow and her heart swells. It isn't until it starts to stick to the grass does she finally decide to go out and enjoy it.

She's so caught up in the idea of being out in it she doesn't even put shoes on. The ground is cold under her feet, but she doesn't care, her big cardigan hanging loosely around her elbows.

She holds her arms out, eyes closing with a deep sigh as she slowly turns, big, wet snowflakes catching in her hair.

She lets herself pretend for a moment that she's twelve years old again and home. That it's late November and she's standing out in her own yard, looking over the valley just before it starts to storm.

The cold air is like an old friend she hasn't seen in ages but still knows her more intimately than any lover. It fills her lungs and runs through her veins. It's a part of her and it brings a strange peace to her heart.

She spends hours standing out in the flurry, smiling up at that clouded sky and earning strange looks from the neighbors.

Daryl and Rick drop off what little haul they have and start trudging back to the houses, their clothes covered in a mix of mud, sweat, melted snow, and walker blood.

They're cold and Daryl wants nothing more than to warm up in a hot shower.

"What the Hell is she doin'? Rick asks when they turn onto their street.

They both stop and watch Loveday spin and giggle in the falling snow.

"Isn't she cold?"

Daryl hums, wondering the same thing, "Girl's crazy. Pro'ly ain't even wearin' shoes."

"Looks like we've been spotted," Risk says when she stops.

"You guys look like a couple'a creepers standin' in the dark over there!" She calls and they start walking over to her.

"What're you doin' out here?" Rick asks and her smile widens.

"It's snowing."

"Yeah, and y'ain't wearin' no coat," Daryl grumbles. He grabs the lapels of her cardigan and roughly tugs it up to where it should be, pulling it closed in the front, "The hell're y'thinkin'?"

"Daryl, 'm fine," She assures him. She takes her hands in his, eyes widening at the feel of his fingers, "You're freezing!"

She rubs her hands on his fingers, bringing them up to her lips to blow on them and Rick snorts.

"Bet you're just as bad," She teases, snatching one of his hands, "Yeah thought so. You should both get inside 'fore you catch your death."

"How long you been out here?" Daryl asks.

"I dunno, awhile?" She shrugs and one of her sleeves falls again, "But I was bred fr' this weather, unlike you southern boys. How many layers you wearin' 'tween the two a'ya?"

"Not enough, apparently," Rick laughs, "I'm goin' in where it's warm."

"You too," She scolds Daryl playfully, pushing him to follow their friend, "Don't want'ya gettin' sick on me."

He huffs but does as she says, completely missing the mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

Just as he's walking up to the porch steps she bends down, gathering a fistful of snow off the grass and shoves it down the collar of his shirt.

"Wh- Hey!" His shoulders tense at the sudden cold and he scrambles to try and get it out , eyes falling on her when she laughs, "Y'think that's funny?"

He tosses his crossbow aside and lunges at her, boot slipping in the grass when she bolts, "Com'ere!"

"Daryl- Shit!" She catches herself when she slips, screeching when his fingers graze her arm, "I'm sorry!"

"No! I'm sorry- I'm sorry!" She squeals in laughter when he catches her and lifts her off her feet against his chest.

"Y'think yer real funny, don't'ya?" He growls.

"Maybe?" She giggles, biting her lip.

"Yeah, well yer comin' with me, girlie."

She sets both mugs on the bedside table and flops on her stomach on their bed.

She flips to her page in her book and reads while she waits for him, feet kicking lazily in the air behind her by the pillows.

Daryl comes in a few minutes later, hair still damp and loose sweats hanging off his hips.

"Good shower?" She asks and he hums collapsing onto his back beside her, resting his arm behind his head.

"Be better if you were in there with me," He teases, his hand coming to rest on her ass.

They lay like that for a while, just enjoying each other's presence before she speaks up.

"Made you a hot drink, should still be kinda warm."

"Oh yeah?" He turns to the bedside table when she points and grabs one of the mugs, tugging on her sweater to get her to sit up next to him against the headboard.

She pushes herself up to do so, bringing her book with her, and tucks herself against his chest.

"Shit," He mumbles when he takes a sip, "That's fuckin' good."

"Better be," She chuckles, "Got into my period stash to make it."

"Didn' have'ta..."

"I know," She reaches for her own mug, cradling it in her hands, "Jus' thought you'd like somethin' sweet."

"Don' need sweets," He says with a small nod, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "Already got you."

"Shut up!" She groans, hiding her smile against his neck, making him laugh.

#Daryl Dixon fluff #daryl dixon #twd fluff #The Walking Dead fl #prisma writes #The end of the world as we know it #prisma self ships #self ship fluff

14 notes · View notes

strangesthirdeye · 11 days ago

Text

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 : ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ ғʟᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏғ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ?

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

Prologue > Chapter 1 > Chapter 3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

• NUMBER FOUR PRIVET DRIVE •

"We swear, We don't know how it happened! One minute the glass was there and then

it was gone. It was like magic." Harry said, his ear hurt from being dragged by Uncle Vernon.

"The glass just poff, Uncle Vernon. Surely you know that kids like us wouldn't do such an impossible thing!" You said out of breath as Uncle Vernon pulled the collar of your shirt from behind. You struggle to be released from his custody.

"There's no such thing as magic!" Uncle Vernon shouted angrily as he dragged you both towards the cupboard under the stairs.

You yelped in protest and squirmed in Uncle Vernon's arms while Harry winced in pain at his ears being pulled hard by Uncle Vernon. Uncle Vernon unlocked the cupboard and threw you both into the cupboard before slamming the door and locking it. You cursed under your breath and brushed yourself from the wrinkles in your shirt while Harry sat quietly while rubbing his sore ear.

"That stupid man didn't use his brain at all to think that children like us would do such a thing." you huffed and leaned against the cupboard wall. Arms crossing over your chest, you frowned.

Harry glanced at you briefly. "but you saw it with your own eyes didn't you? the glass suddenly disappeared and reappeared after the python came out. That's quite impossible" Harry said and leaned next to you too, eyes looking at the locked cupboard door.

You scoffed. "If only Dudley didn't behave like an ape, this wouldn't happen. We wouldn't be locked up and not fed for a week" you huffed in frustration. "oh for goodness sake! Why does it have to be like this?!"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dudley parades about the kitchen in knickerbockers, tailcoat and straw boater, tapping the floor with a Knobbly stick, while a teary Aunt Petunia snaps a photo with a flash camera. A glance at Dudley, I don't have any weird metaphor now but he does look like an elephant in a shirt.

"Oh, Vernon, look at him. To think in only a week he'll be off to Smeltings." Aunt Petunia gushed.

Uncle Vernon smiled excitedly. "Proudest moment of my life"

"shameful moment of my life" you whispered, rolling your eyes at Dudley.

Harry looked at Petunia with dread. "will i have to wear that too?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked at him as if he was stupid although he wasn't one before the let out a mocking laughed at him. "You! Go to Smeltings? Don't be stupid You'll go to state school, where you belong. That there'll be yours, once I'm done dying it" Aunt Petunia walked to the kitchen, Harry and you followed her from behind. You cover your nose upon smelling a musty smell. "Your sister will not be with you as she is going to the Girls' school. That's where she belongs to learn her manners" Aunt Petunia added while taking out the old soaked uniform with tongs.

"I don't need someone to teach me manners. I'm fine the way I am. It's you who needs to be taught" you argued.

Aunt Petunia glared at you with hatred. "You said something like that again, there won't be any food for two weeks." she warned which you do not mind.

Your stomach is used to being hungry for a long time. So that's pretty common. Harry on the other hand only a week maximum which you are grateful that he doesn't have to go through the same consequences as you even though he is the older twin who is supposed to protect his youngest sibling.

But you're the type that likes to look for troubles so you don't care about siblings protect siblings term because those punishments have a reason why you're the only one who gets it. Which is your fault too for not keeping your mouth shut like now.

Harry glanced at a tub of gray mud boiling on the stove. He looked at it with disgust while you seemed to want to vomit at that foul smell.

'The smell gives me a headache' you thought. You held your nose from inhaling the poisonous smell

"But that's Dudley's old uniform. It'll fit me like bits of old elephant skin." Harry said, eyes focusing on Dudley's old shirt which was too big for Harry.

"What about my uniform. You yourself said I was going to another school." you looked at aunt Petunia strangely.

"Fit you fine enough and I'll find some old uniforms from parents whose daughter goes to the same school and dye it too" she replied to Harry without looking at him.

"cruel" You whispered which only Harry heard. Harry silently agreed.

"go get the post. Go!" Aunt Petunia ordered Harry.

Harry shook his head and moved out of the kitchen to the door, you sent him a sympathetic look.

"And you, go mop the floor, I don't want you to waste your time just standing here. Go" Aunt Petunia demanded before turning her gaze to the dying pot of the old uniform.

You grumbled and walked to the store where the mop and bucket were kept. You took the two items and walked to the bathroom to fill the bucket with soap before doing your forced task. You wring the mop and mop the floor.

Back to Harry, there are 4 letters on the mat. A bill, a postcard and envelopes of yellow parchment.

Harry takes all, then stops, staring at the envelope, which is addressed in emerald ink.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under The Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry turns the envelope over, finds a purple wax. It is a coat of arms, surrounding a large letter H. Harry shuffled another letter in his hand which is addressed to you.

Ms. F/i. Potter

The Cupboard Under The Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Harry eyes focusing on two letters addressed to you and him in puzzled. Who in their right mind wants to send letters to both of them? Is this a joke? It might be a joke. No one knows who they are.

Harry walked towards the kitchen, hands clutched 4 letters but his eyes only focused on the two mysterious letters. You who just finished mopping the floor looked at Harry odd behavior.

"Harry?" You called him.

Harry lifted his head to look at you before he walked towards you and gave you a mysterious letter. You took the letter and looked at it weirdly. It has your name and your cupboard address.

You frowned in confusion. This is probably just a joke. As long as you live, no one has ever sent a letter in your name. Until now. Whoever sent you this letter better be prime minister or any powerful people who want to offer you a good position in their cult. What a weird metaphor. The letter even has the cupboard address where you live. How come that person who sent this letter knows where you live. Harry probably got the same letter because he seemed lost for words as he gives the other two letters to uncle Vernon. His eyes focusing on the letter in his hands. Dudley who noticed Harry's hands holding the mysterious letter quickly snatched his letter out of his hand.

"Dad! Look! Harry's got a letter!" Dudley exclaimed as he gave the letter to his dad.

Seeing this, you quickly folded the letter and hid it in the pocket of your baggy pants and continued mopping the floor. You haven't opened the letter yet so you better not let the letter go through the same fate as Harry's letter. You looked at the floor while mopping, ignoring the other human at the dining table who was fussing about Harry got a letter. You hummed Bohemian Rhapsody in your throat softly.

Harry determined to get his letter trying to snatched his letter back from Uncle Vernon's hand to which Uncle Vernon brought the letter out of his reach.

"that's mine!" Harry yelled.

Uncle Vernon looked at him in disbelief. He grinned. "Yours? Who'd be writing to you-" His face automatically goes pale. Uncle Vernon looked at his wife with knowing looked while Aunt Petunia seems uncertain.

Harry gulped.

"the girl.. She must get the same letter. Get the girl now" Uncle Vernon told his wife.

Aunt Petunia turned and walked towards you who was still mopping the floor. She forcefully takes your elbow and pulls you to the dining table. You yelped in surprise.

"Give me the letter now" Aunt Petunia hissed.

"What letter?" you cocked your head to the side a little.

"Don't play dumb, girl. Give us the letter you got!" Uncle Vernon shouted.

"I don't know what letter you two mean! I don't have any letter!" you lied

"Check the girl, Petunia. She must hide it in her pants pocket" Uncle Vernon said to his wife. His face was very red when he looked at you.

Aunt Petunia moved to you and forcefully checked your pants pocket while you tried to smack her hands. Aunt Petunia put her hand in your pants pocket and managed to pull out the mysterious letter you got. You looked at her with hatred as you tried to take the letter back from Aunt Petunia's hand, but Aunt Petunia took it out of your reach.

"that's mine! Give it back!" you yelled furiously.

"Shut up and go back to your cupboard!" Uncle Vernon yelled angrily.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, like the day before, there are 6 letters that are the same as the first day on the mat. Uncle Vernon who was in the front hall breathed furiously as he took the six letters and tore all the letters out of rage.

You who wear reading glasses and are leaning against the wall with a book of Greek Mythology on your lap, looked up from the book you were reading after hearing a loud drilling from the front hall. Harry who was quietly playing his miniature horse turned his body towards you in confused. You shrugged your shoulders at him as if you didn't know.

"No more mail through this letterbox"

You frowned in question.

Harry decided to open the cupboard door a little, you put your Greek mythology book aside and leaned in a bit to peek out of the cupboard. There Uncle Vernon was drilling the letterbox with screws and a medium-sized board with a wireless drilling machine in his hand.

"the hell" you muttered before returning to your position as Harry looked at Uncle Vernon with displeasure as he closed the cupboard door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, Uncle Vernon who was wearing his work suit held the briefcase tightly in his hand. He is ready to go to work. Aunt Petunia kissed his cheek lovingly.

"Have a lovely day at the office, dear" Aunt Petunia said to him, lovingly as she kissed his cheek but then her face changed after spotting several owls on the car.

Uncle Vernon turned and was a little shocked when he spotted the owls. He then waving his briefcase, trying to shoo the owls on his car but the owls do nothing.

"Shoo! Go on!" he shooed the owls.

Aunt Petunia, as if sensing something wrong looked down and spotted some letters addressed to you and Harry. She patted his husband's arms. Her eyes still on the letters above on the pavement. Uncle Vernon turned his gaze to the pavement and saw the letters in disbelief.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another day, Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen preparing to make breakfast. She took an egg container and set it on the kitchen counter before she took a bowl and set it in front of her. She then cracked an egg but she suddenly turned confused when she saw that there was no content in the egg instead there was a letter in it.

She breathed heavily before she cracked another egg but it was still the same. Her face began to show a feeling of terror as she cracked another egg and another and another but the content was still the same. A letter addressed to you and Harry. A sound of birds can be heard outside the kitchen window. Aunt Petunia looked out the window in terror before she screamed in fear when she spotted a few owls outside her house.

You looked up from your book and frowned.

"shesh.. She must be stressed" you mumbled.

Harry hummed in agreement as he lay down and boredly played with some of Dudley's broken toys to relieve the boredom.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Another day, at night you and Harry came out of the cupboard to drink water but then you both stopped in the living room when you ran into Uncle Vernon who was burning something in the fireplace. You looked at him with hate.

He burned the same letters one by one in the fireplace with a smug face. He looks satisfied. He laughed and double checked you both before he waved a letter with your name written on it and tossed it into the fireplace.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Fine day, Sunday. Best day of the week in my opinion. Know why I say that, Dudley?" Uncle Vernon said happily.

Dudley who was sitting in front of his mother shook his head. You and Harry, who was assigned to pour tea and offer cookies to the family, looked at Uncle Vernon with a resigned look.

"Because there's no post on Sundays." Harry muttered while offering Uncle Vernon cookies who took the cookie smugly.

"Right you are, Harry! No post on Sunday, hah! " he beamed with satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes before moving to Aunt Petunia who was holding her teacup towards you without looking at you as her attention was only on Dudley, expecting you to pour her tea. You sighed and poured tea into her cup. Silently wished that the tea she drank was bitter.

You put the teapot on the table after your task is done. You sigh lightly. Mind thought about the mysterious letters that Aunt and Uncle Dursley destroyed whenever they found it before the two of you. What are they afraid of the letters? Why are they acting weird whenever the letters are sent? More important, who sent the mysterious letter like there's no tomorrow? A huge amount of letters scattered throughout the day, who doesn't find it strange?

"No blasted letters today! No, sir. Not one single bloody letter. Not one-" Uncle Vernon said in delightful.

You scoffed at him and looked at the family with contempt. Why did they take you both in if they treated you like servants? You looked out the window. You narrowed your eyes when you saw several owls outside the house.

"No, sir, not one blasted, miserable-" he jerked in shock when he felt something thrown at him.

Out of the sudden, as if there was an earthquake. A loud noise started to be heard from the fireplace making the family look at each other strangely before turned to terror when many letters pouring out of the fireplace as if someone blasted the letters out of the fireplace.

The family screamed in terror at that. Aunt Petunia and Dudley hugged while Uncle Vernon screamed in terror.

"Make it stop!" Dudley screamed.

You and Harry grinned and starting to snatched the letters before Uncle Vernon stopped you and Harry. You kneeled to the floor to pick up the letter with your initials written on it while Harry who climbed pm top of the table took the letter with his name on it. You scoffed at him.

'Why can't he just pick up the letter on the floor?!' you thought before quickly running out of the living room to go to your cupboard but then you suddenly feel as if tugging on your mid section.

A sausage hand in your mid section pulled you in front of the cupboard with Harry in another hand. Uncle Vernon gripped both of you hard while you both shouted to be released and struggled in his arms. Suddenly another wave of letters came out of the letterbox, making it hard for Uncle Vernon to grab you both but he managed.

'dammit this man is strong' you struggle to let go. The letter in your hand crumpled in your grip.

"Get off!" Harry shouted.

"Let me go!" You elbowed Uncle Vernon's stomach.

"That does it! We're going away! Far away

Where they can't find us! Where they can't get to us!" Uncle Vernon shouted in the letters attacked.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley said in feared.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A very sad-looking hut sits perched upon a Targe Rock far at sea. Wind whistles. The sea rages. Heavy rain with lightning strikes like there is no tomorrow.

You who was lying on the ragged blanket next to Harry, grinning while drawing candles on the dust on the floor while Harry put a last touch on the cake you both etched on the dusty floor. Harry grinned contentedly and turned his head to the digital watch that Dudley was wearing. Dudley snores loudly making you roll your eyes annoyingly.

'pig' you said in your heart.

The digital clock ticked to midnight, You and Harry smiled at each other.

"Make a wish, Harry" you said, smiling.

"You too, Y/n" Harry replied.

The both of you closed your eyes to make a wish before blowing out the 'candle' in unison and the 'flames' of dust scattered around. Eyes still closed, you both hold your wish.

BANG! You both jerked in shock amd so was Dudley who woke up from his sleep with shock with sudden noise then he quickly got up from the broken sofa. The door shudders on the hinges when something seemed to try to break in. You and Harry petrified at that before Harry pulled your hand away and rushed to hide. Harry leaning against the walls and so was you but you seemed to be trying to hide your whole body against the wall making your right arm bumped against the stone wall hard. You hissed softly. Harry looked at you with concern. You just waved your uninjured hand at your brother.

You know that your hand will leave bruises later. You two keep quiet.

BOOM! A pin squirrels out of its housing. Falls to the floor. You covered your mouth with your palm, trying to keep yourself from screaming as Harry hugged your body closer to him protectively. Heart racing in the chest as nervousness and fear began to increase when the wooden door that was about to collapse was banged. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia who woke up due to the sudden noise came down from their bedroom. Uncle Vernon had a rifle in his hand as he pointed the rifle at the door of the hut. His face held anxious and nervous feelings while Aunt Petunia was scared and shaking like a leaf.

"Who's there? I warn you--I'm armed!" Uncle Vernon warned as he still aimed the rifle at the door of the hut. Finger on the trigger.

SMASH! The door of the hut fell to the floor and was torn from its hinges. An immense silhouette that was very massive bowed slightly to enter the hut. He is so tall that his head almost reaches the ceiling. His massive body shows that he is a strong person. His face is covered with a thick mustache while his hair is so long and thick. In his hand there is an umbrella. He wears a thick brown long coat and wears dark brown pants with a boots.

You and Harry were stunned to see the giant mysterious man. Mouth agape and eyes widened. The Dursley shaking in fear upon seeing the giant man.

"Er, right. Sorry 'bout that.. " the giant man apologized with his rough voice before he turned and lifted the collapsed door from the floor and put it back on its frame. Though he just put the collapsed door by leaning it on it frame. He turned his body back to the people in the hut. His eyes focused on Dudley who was standing in the center of the hut with a frightened look. The giant man frowned.

"Mind, I haven't seen yeh since yeh were

a baby, Harry, but yeh' re a bit more along than I woulda expected. Specially round the in middle." The giant man mistook Dudley for Harry while gesturing his hand on his stomach.

You snorted quietly at what the giant man said. Harry glared at you though he too found it rather amusing that the giant man really called Dudley fat.

"Where's yer sister Y/n? didn't yeh two always attached at the hip? Where is she?" he added, eyes looking around for a glimpse of you.

Dudley looked terrified. "I- I'm not Harry" he stuttered.

Harry decided to come out of his hiding place, dragging you behind him. His protective brother instinct is kicking.

"I am" Harry entered the conversation. He was slightly terrified at the giant man.

You looked up at the giant man's face curiously. He seems friendly and kind even though his physical looks intimidating but his eyes hold kindness and friendliness. The man turned to face Harry who finally came out from hiding.

"Well now, of course you are." The man said in his rough and heavy accent. He then noticed you behind Harry. "well, there yer are, Y/n. Always attached to the hip, like I said before!" he beamed.

You nodded shyly. You don't know this man but he knows yours and Harry's name. Like he knows you two for a long time.

Uncle Vernon then pointed his rifle at the giant man. "I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering! " he yelled at the man.

The man turned his gaze from you two to Uncle Vernon. He approached Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia held her husband's shoulder in fear and hid herself behind her husband.

The man then took the end of the rifle in his massive hand as he glared at Uncle Vernon. "Ah, dry up, Dursley, yeh great prune." the man then bend the end of the rifle upwards and Uncle Vernon in fear pressed the trigger of the rifle which created the sudden shot to the ceiling of the hut.

Both Uncle and Aunt jerked in shock and fear. They both shivered in the presence of the giant man in front of them.

You looked at the man impressed. "wow.. He's strong"

Harry nodded in silence. The man then turned his gaze on you both. His furious face turned friendly when his eyes focused on you two.

"Anyway, Harry, Y/n. Got summat fer yeh two. 'Fraid I mighta sat on it at some points, but 'magine it'll taste all right jus' the same... Let's see now... Got it here somewhere" The man rummaging his coat, looking for something in his big coat pocket then he took out a medium-sized box from inside his coat and gave it to Harry who took it.

You looked over Harry's shoulder. Curiosity in your eyes as Harry opened the box. There is a freshly baked cake with your and Harry's name written on it. 'Happee Birthdae, Harry and Y/n' scrawled in green icing. You widened your eyes. Never had ever someone give you two gifts or cake on your birthday. The Dursleys always give you both coins or broken pens as 'birthday gifts' but this. This makes your heart touch with this giant man.

"Baked it myself, words an' all." The man said delightfully.

"Thank you" Harry and you said at the same time.

"Well,· it's not ev'ry day yer young man

and young woman turns 'leven, now is it, eh" The man replied with a genuine smile.

Hagrid turns to the fireplace, gives the embers a poke with the pink umbrella. As they ROAR to life, the man sat on the moth eaten sofa. The sofa slightly bends over the man's weight. You both widened your eyes after witnessing such impossible things.

'how come that umbrella..' you thought as you approached the giant man.

"eh.. Excuse me, sir... Who are you?" you asked the man confused.

The man was silent for a moment when someone addressed him formally but he then smiled at you.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He introduced himself to you. "Of course, yer know all about Hogwarts"

You shook your head at him. "Sorry, we've never heard of Hogwarts"

Harry nodded in agreement. Hagrid looked at you with uncertainty.

"No? Blimey, Harry, Y/n, did yeh never wonder

where did yer mum and dad learned it all?" Hagrid questioned.

"learned what?" Harry is now by your side.

"Yer a wizard, Harry and Y/n a witch" Hagrid said.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Harry widened his eyes.

"A witch? What kind of flavor or type of Witch?" you asked him with curiosity.

"And a thumpin' good 'un, I'd wager, once yeh've been trained up a bit." Hagrid replied.

You let out a short laugh. "Well, we can't be wizard and witch."

Harry agreed with what you said. "surely you made a mistake, we can't be a wizard and a witch.. I mean.. We're just.. Just Harry and Y/n. We don't have magic"

"Well just Harry and Y/n, did yeh ever make anything 'appen? Anythin' yeh couldn't explain, when yeh were angry or scared?" Hagrid questioned.

You both fell silent. A sign of recognition on both of your faces when you remember some impossible events that happened before to both of you resulting in both of you being locked in a cupboard for a few weeks. Well, not much. So far, things floating in the air or frogs suddenly appear and jump on Aunt Petunia's face. That's it.. You and Harry looked at each other.

Hagrid smiled at you two. Which means what he said is true. He then got up from the broken sofa and slipped his hand into his big coat before taking out two envelopes and giving them to the two of you. You both took the envelope curiously. The same letters that Uncle Vernon did not give up on destroying. Now it is in both of your hands.

Harry opened his envelope. He read the contents of the letter out loud. "Dear Mr. Potter, We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.. "

You raised your eyebrows at that and stared at your own letter. You don't need to read it because you know the content in it as Harry has already read it out loud. Now this is quite interesting. A magic school. You never thought such a school existed in this world. But then again, there's a lot you don't know about this world.

"Magi-"

"absolutely not! They'll not be gone, I tell you! We swore when we took them in, we'd put a

stop to that rubbish!" Uncle Vernon disagreed, stomping his foot toward the the two of you.

You glared at him in realization and so was Harry. "You knew?! You knew and never told us that we are a Wizard and a Witch." You let out a disbelief laughed. "wow.. We didn't know that you two knew how to keep a secret for so long"

"You watch your mouth, girl!" Uncle Vernon yelled at you.

"maybe if you two tell us this thing maybe I can watch my mouth!" you argued "and you knew about that!"

Harry took your hand and squeezed your hand to calm you down. You scoffed at them.

Aunt Petunia looked at you two in distasteful. "Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was. Oh, mother and father were so proud when the letter came. 'A witch in the family isn't it wonderful?' I was the only one who saw her for what she was...a freak!" she spat with hatred. "Then she met that Potter and had you both. I knew you'd be the same. Just as strange, just as abnormal. And then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you"

"Oh god, i can smell jealousy" you rolled your eyes.

Aunt Petunia glared at you in hatred.

"Blown up? You told us, our parents died in a car crash." Harry said with bewilderment.

"CAR CRASH! A car crash kills Lily and James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal!" Hagrid yelled in disbelief.

"You lied to us" You hissed at them.

"THEY'LL NOT BE GOING! I TELL YOU!" Uncle Vernon yelled, aiming his bent rifles at Hagrid like a fool.

"An' I s'ppose a great Muggle like yerself is goin' ter stop them" Hagrid challenged him.

You and Harry looked at him in confusion. "muggles?" said in unison.

"Non-magic folk." Hagrid replied to you both with a friendly tone in his voice before he turned furiously towards Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. "This children's name's been down ever since they were born. They're off to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world and they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwart's has ever known, Albus Dumbledore-"

"I will not pay for some old crackpot fool to teach them magic tricks!" Uncle Vernon cut him off.

Hagrid glared at him furiously. He aimed his tip of umbrella at Uncle Vernon's face who took a step back. "NEVER... INSULT... ALBUS DUMBLEDORE IN FRONT OF ME!"

You grinned when you saw Uncle Vernon's scared face. This is what you want to see. Him, put in his place. It's not like you're so cruel to see him scared, he just deserves that.

Hagrid then turned his gaze from uncle Vernon to Dudley who was eating birthday cake at the end of the hut. He then aimed his umbrella at Dudley and a spark of light came out of the tip of the umbrella. Suddenly a pig tails appeared in Dudley's butt making him scream in terror as he ran around the hut while his parents screamed in fear.

Uncle Vernon roared as the family hurries out of the hut's living room. You and Harry laughed out loud at the poor family. This is the best thing you have ever witnessed. They deserve it.

"Tha's curious. Meant ter turn 'im into a complete pig, whole hog an' all. Suppose he was so much like a pig already, there wasn't much left do." Hagrid looked at his umbrella strangely.

"I'm sure you've done your best to turn him into a complete pig. He just.. well he's indeed a pig even if you didn't change him. He just doesn't have a tail which thankfully you added" you beamed at him him as you patted his massive arm. You looked so small beside him. Once he bumped into you, you might have been thrown across the universe.

Hagrid smiled at you gratefully and patted your head gently. Harry who was speechless to say that was staring in awe at Hagrid's umbrella.

"Er, be grateful. if yeh didn't mention that to anyone at Hogwarts. Strictly speakin', I'm not allowed to do magic." Hagrid said to you both which you both nodded in understanding before he took out his pocket watch. "Bit behind schedule, aren't we? Best be off."

Hagrid exited the hut, leaving you two to consider this matter. Harry looked lost while you fought the urge to follow Hagrid or not. You have trust issues when you live with the Dursleys. Hagrid poked his head in to look at the two of you.

" 'Less, o' course, yeh'd rather stay.' Hagrid said.

"nope! we're going then. Come on Harry, We're going on an adventure!" You pulled Harry's hand and dragged him out of the hut. Following Hagrid to a magical place.

Hagrid laughed at your enthusiasm self.

9 notes · View notes

squidthesquidd · 2 months ago

Note

HELLOOOOOOOO THEREEEEEEEEEE!!!!

Do you have any Tf Ocs? or Ocs in general? Asking for no reason (:

-🪐

oh my god so many so many transformers OCs😭 I only have one drawn so far so im just gonna infodump on you so hard

Clapperclaw- my FIRST actual transformer oc :3 hes a lil guy and hes designed to look like a bird!!! and he transforms into a mosquito helicopter! He used to be a decepticon, but he defected after a series of events that kinda made him have an identity crisis.. alsooo hes conjuxed to MisClick!! who ill talk abt now

MisClick- Big blue tank thing!!!! shes a scientist and doesn't prefer fighting, but shes huge and buff and can protect herself verrry well. She was also a decepticon, but didn't really care for sides all the much, but stayed with the decepticons for convenience (first faction that found her, her partner was part of them, they had the materials she wanted for her experiments) but when Clapper defected, she did too.

Current- also a scientist, and specializes in chemistry and biology mostly. and he turns into a boat!!! a big as hell yacht!!! so he a reaall big bot. hes an autobot and in most versions of him hes really close with optimus cus yayyy :3 also his face got fucked up in one of his experiments (acid burns teehee) so he wears a mask most of the time

Pike- okay soo... this guy isss complicated??? the initial reason i made him was for transformers reader insert fic reasons, and then he just kinda stuck around in my brain. sometimes hes with megatron, sometimes with someone else, hes an autobot and a decepticon at the same time , i dont fucking know. the only constant is that he's ancient and doesnt eat energon like a normal person (he doesnt really eat energon at all, he feeds off the energy thats always being dispelled by other bots. hes silly like that)

Crimson- now this guy silly!!! hes tiny and has a liiiittle bit of an italian accent cus his alt-mode is based on my dads car which is a really old alfa romeo (which are italian cars :3) hes silly and always super optimistic and is the reason that Tine eventually joined the autobots

Tine- (placeholder name) Saddest guy on the block. wasn't on a side and was doing his best to survive. kills on sight, takes no risks, serious as FUCK. hated everyone and everything until meeting crimson. saw a silly old man so full of joy and whimsy he couldn't help but fall in love lmao. still very wary around everyone else but can and will kill for crimson (also his alt is a jeep btw)

Prodsling- yeah this is a cowboy. texas accent , would wear a cowboy hat if he could, likes to pet cows and horses, loves driving through mud. hes like a chill southern granpa that sits on a porch and gives weird advice and makes farm animal noises. turn into a pickup truck ofc

Shiver- Weirdest girl on the block. literally your local cryptid that watches u from the shadowy corners and knows all your secrets. actually quite sweet but has the autism that makes you strange and unsettling <3 alt is like??? i dunno some cool black car. she walks silently and is so good at eavesdropping

Polyphon- weird little decepticon kid that wants to be friends with soundwave SO BAD. wants to party, covered in rainbow biologhts. RAVE BOY RAVE TIME!!! has speakers on him :3 here to have a good time not a long time 🎉

Vironmet- Little old lady in the woods that loves to meditate and talk to animals. will NOT HESITATE TO THROW DOWN if you fuck of the forest or anything living in it. bakes you a pie but if your mean to dogs its poisoned. basically what if tfa prowl was a little lady that killed. she turns into a Squirrel i think

Matte- Mercedes that does not quit. stares into peoples eyes menacingly all day. wants to bite. most fucking stubborn guy ever. Only loosely tied to the autobots and just does his own thing, cus literally no one can handle him!!!!!

Nano- tiny little medic! about the size or a human and her alt is basically a swiss-army medical tool! so shes made to have other bots handles her. also shes basically Ratchets child for funsies. tiny, bitey, ready to be covered in energon when its surgery time!!!!

aaand thats a out it so far! I dont have a lot of time to draw them cus im in college snd have ine million assignments 😭 but ill try!!! so watch out for em!!

#transformers #transformers oc #transformers original character #tf oc #im mostly thinking of tfa anf tfp when making these #maccadams #asky

15 notes · View notes

aphroditestempleimagines · 11 months ago

Text

The Obsidianite Jewel

A fem!reader x Chevalier Michel Fanfiction

Chapter 19 -> Chapters Masterlist

Words: 4438

Warnings: war

Summary: It all started when your fiancé, Prince Gilbert, brought you to the palace of Rhodolite. He hoped he would find the secrets of the princes. Instead, he lost your heart to the brutal beast. However, Gilbert is not going to let your heart wander away easily

Chevalier took a deep breath. Once again in the span of few months he was clad in armour from head to toe. Only now, the colours he wore were not his own. The black metal of his breastplate was broken by the brilliant blue and silver of the crest that was carved onto it; an imperial dragon. A black cape fell over his broad left shoulder, the fur lining keeping him warm against the unforgiving cold of the north. James sat next to him, wearing a similar get-up.

"How are you feeling?", the prince asked nonchalantly as he twisted a cigarette to smoke. He laid his back on the walls of the shaking carriage that was taking them to the King's army's camp.

"I'm not sure what you mean", Chevalier lied.

"Have you ever fought for anything but your country?", the prince blew rings of smoke over the heads of the other soldiers that accompanied them. Chevalier did not grant him an answer. "How does it feel to sell yourself?", James grinned, yet his expression remained sad.

Chevalier gave him a stern look. Deep down James was right. Never before in his life had Chevalier fought for anything but the welfare of his kingdom. He was heading into an unknown land, to fight amongst unknown faces and for unknown people. He thought of the man he once was. How would he had laughed at the lengths he was going for the most useless of emotions; love.

Useless....yet so precious to him by now that even a step back from the fight would break his heart in two.

The carriage stopped. Chevalier followed the Istidorian soldiers on the mud-covered road. About thirty meters further away, on the grassy field of a hill, stood a fortified camp. The flags, blue, black and silver, dance to the tune of the cold north wind. He looked to his side. James walked proudly as he was welcomed by all who saw him. Their eyes looked up to him for salvation the way they never looked at Chevalier.

"You were born to be a King", Y/n's father had told Chevalier before they left, "But you never learned to be a leader".

They entered a great blue tent. Countless maps of the surrounding areas were spread over a long wooden table. A council of military leaders stood over them, moving pieces and yelling at each other as they pretended to discuss their next move. They bowed the moment they saw James enter the room.

"I'll be leaving shortly for Midsomer", James informed them, "But I brought you a replacement"

With a big smile, he patted Chevalier's shoulder as the latter glared at him. The lords looked at each other with confusion.

"With all due respect your Highness, we don't want a replacement. We want you"

"Awww", James waved his right hand, his left cupping his cheek like a blushing young girl, "That is very sweet of you general but it is for the King to decide"

And with that, he left Chevalier alone at the mercy of a rainfall of suspicion. He was no longer the absolute leader that he was in his country. These men knew nothing about him. They owed him no loyalty and had no reason to offer it. He gazed down at the map. He was never good with people, but there was one thing he was good at.

"We are about to be ambushed", he said as he observed the locations of the enemy armies.

The other men looked at him with disbelief. They were all old, none younger than 60, but their brows were more creased from discontent rather than age. He could see how y/n's skill and intellect could have been shoved aside when men like these served the crown.

"What are you talking about?", a short one asked foolishly.

Chevalier did not want to explain. He had never spent time to do so in his life. Yet, he took a deep breath and pointed at the hills to the south and the forest to the east. "To my understanding the enemy has canons. If they moved over here....up the hill....we would be well within their range. They would also gain the high ground so it would be almost impossible for us to retaliate. The army to the east has made camp here and has made no movement according to your scouts in quite a while; cause they don't want to. They are meant to prevent our escape through the forest, forcing us towards the river. But that would trap us later on.....over here". Chevalier let his finger fall on a waterfall about a mile away from where their camp stood. Scoffs came from the other side of the table.

"There's no way that'll happen", a man with a long beard took the initiative, "But even if it does we will no longer be here"

"We're moving?", Chevalier raised one of his eyebrows.

"We will be following the river upstream", another man with glasses pointed out. He looked way too old to be there.

"It won't work", Chevalier moved his hand over the hills that framed the river, "From what James told me the scouts have had a hard time tracking the enemy over the mountains to the west, meaning they could very well be hidden between the cliffs and crannies and we would not even know about it"

The men were pushing at each other, each doing their best to shake off the responsibility to explain their planning to their newly arrived comrade. "We are planning to launch an attack", one of them finally said, "We will commence a flawed siege of the camp in the east, allowing them to ask for help from their friends in the west and clear the path for us"

There were many adjectives that came to Chevalier's mind to describe such a plan. Stupid, moronic, idiotic....even larger phrases such as a waste of cerebrospinal fluid or the result of a lack of working neurons. He took a deep breath, barely holding himself from using any of them. This was not his country. He had no authority here other than what small power y/n's father had granted him. He had made similar calls in the past, sacrificing the few to save the many. But the sacrificial lamps in question had a greater chance of survival than those the generals were trying to save.

"It won't be enough", he said.

The general scoffed and glared in disagreement as their prideful egos ached from the doubting of their plans. "It will, boy", the man with the glasses said, "We've been doing this for fifty years"

And that was way too long already, Chevalier thought. He clicked his tongue. "Okay", he said. He was not going to be able to convince them of anything, that much was clear. He bowed and stormed out of the camp.

He had to think of something else, something that would not deplete the army he came to aid and lead them towards victory. He looked at the marvellous colours of the sky; the deep reds and oranges of the clouds were flattered by the softer pinks and yellows of the last rays of the sun as they painted the atmosphere.

"Hey! Newbie!", a voice rang, "Come sit with us! Get some food!"

It took a while for Chevalier to realise it was referring to him. A few scruffy footsoldiers were waving at him as they sat near a bonfire. They wore kind expressions and held out a few spare rations towards his way. It was clear they had no idea who he is. Unlike any other day in his military career, Chevalier moved closer to the soldiers and sat alongside them.

"Here, have some", one of them handed over a bowl to him, "It's not much but it's better than those dry old things they send us". He tipped over a wooden spoon and filled Chevalier's bowl with something that looked like stew. "Kayleb caught a rabbit this morning".

The soldier named Kayleb crossed his arms as he grinned with pride. Chevalier was silent for a moment of awkwardness until he remembered to say "Thank you". The soldiers smiled at him.

"I'm Trevor. And this is Derek", the soldier with the spoon said.

"So where are you from?", asked Derek.

Chevalier pretended to wipe his mouth as he thought. "Campagne", he said the name of the capital. It would be preferable than any other village, where everyone knew each other.

"The BIG city! That's impressive!"

"I always wanted to go to Campagne!"

It was a strange little atmosphere. One that Chevalier was unfamiliar with. There was no revulsion nor blind obedience. No hatred and no ill will. It was strangely comforting.

"So how did you end up all the way up here?", Kayleb was shoved by his fellow soldiers almost as soon as he uttered that question.

Chevalier smiled to himself. "I loved a woman I can't have", he said.

The smiles were replaced by frowns in an instant. "Oh mate I'm sorry", said Trevor.

"Did she have a husband?", Derek leaned closer. He took Chevalier's silence as confirmation. "And the bastard sent you here huh?"

"You could say that"

"What's more important is this", Kayleb pushed them aside, a serious expression on his face, "Did she love you back?"

Chevalier smiled again. With a few simple words, all memories of her came flushing in to warm him against the bitter cold better than any bonfire. "Yes", he said, "she did"

"Look at his face...", Trevor smiled.

"We need to get our boy some justice!"

"Love must win!"

Chevalier chuckled. His voice came rasp; he was not used to this weather. Derek passed over some warm mountain tea to him, in a rusty metal cup that Chevalier accepted gratefully.

"They're right though", Trevor patted Chevalier's shoulder, "Love is the very essence of life"

"Freedom"

"Beauty"

"Truth"

"And love"

They all said, one completing the other's words. "That is the bohemian dream", Trevor patted Chevalier's shoulder one last time before getting up, "

For the reader's understanding, a normal person would be touched by the warmness of those soldiers. Chevalier was not such a person; not when y/n was not around and had not been around him for such a long time. Yet the foolishly optimistic ramblings of those men posed proof for something else; that they would believe any good story told to them, and would support it with passion. And the story Chevalier had to tell was the truth.

"I'm afraid I might not make it that far", he feigned sorrow. The soldiers looked at him with curiosity, ready to return more words of hope if presented with sighs of despair. "I overheard the generals when passing from their tent", said Chevalier, "We are up for a suicide mission".

The smiles of his companions fell, yet they did not seem surprised. Chevalier frowned. The men did not retaliate nor panicked, as they usually did. As he had needed them to.

"I see", said Trevor, "Well I suppose there must be a bigger picture"

Chevalier could have sworn the wheels of his brain stopped working for just a second. That was not a response he ever expected to hear. "It's foolish", he said. That drew more attention. The soldiers plead with their eyes for his opinion. "They want us to split apart and escape through the mountains in the west while drawing the enemy to the east"

"I'm sure...there's more to that", Derek shook his head.

"There's not. It would make more sense to push through the forest with all our strength, even though I would not recommend that plan of action either".

"Then what?"

"The rest of the army is split between the valleys here way up north and..."

"And the northern wall between us and Astrya"

"Yeah they are guarding the border"

"But they're not that far away", said Chevalier. " We leave the camp as is with the fires burning and leave under the cover of night. The distance is not that great. We can walk on the wall to the east and the west and come up from behind them. This will also give time for the enemy troops to the south to gather closer. We will also be able to resupply. The wall is regularly travelled by carriages, to feed all the towers". His compatriots were nodding their heads, but their eyes were still unwilling to follow. Chevalier stood. "But the generals are too old and too prideful to do something as cowardly as a strategic retreat", he said, "So courageous sacrifice it is"

He left them there, to circle his words around the camp and in their minds. The next day the generals announced the plan officially. The soldiers stared as Chevalier sat next to them. He kept his eyes on them as well, commanding them to be ready for a new course of action. At nightfall, a scout returned. They had seen the army from the south closing in, dragging canons up the hill. Come morning, they'd be ready to fire at them. Chevalier proposed his plan to the generals in the middle of the camp after they broke the news. The soldiers he had talked to the previous night backed him up. In an hour, they were all ready to leave. Carrying only their essentials and the wounded, they left the fires burning and disappeared in the shadows of the north. After a few hours of walking, they reached the wall. Even if there were enemy soldiers lurking in those woods, Chevalier and his troops managed to pass them by unnoticed. They resupplied and slept in the barracks of the wall. A lot of the soldiers had not eaten that well in days. In the early morning hours, they split into two groups that marched to the east and west. They reached their destinations just before dawn broke.

Chevalier led the troops to the mountains. He surmised it was the more difficult terrain. Without cavalry or artillery, they had to rely on hit-and-run tactics. He shed his heavy armour and kept just his cloak for warmth. He encouraged the soldiers to do the same; those who followed survived, as they moved soundlessly through the narrow passages among the cliffs. He knew nothing of the area while their enemy was well versed in it. The only way to victory was surprise and skill. He split his force into small groups, an ill-advised tactic in any other situation than the one they were experiencing. He'd know- the generals fought him on it. But the smaller groups easily manoeuvred around the cliffs, drawing less attention than a larger force. On top of that, those who were defeated were not great losses in view of the army's total number of recruits, and at the same time managed to betray the position of their attackers. After a long day, they regrouped as agreed back at the wall, after calculating a significant blow on the enemy without many losses on their side.

After that victory, Chevalier was accepted more in the council of the generals, despite his rude demeanour. They travelled to the south and ambushed the soldiers that had dragged the cannons all the way up to the top of the hill to aim at their old camp. With their artillery useless, it was an easy victory for the King's troops.

It was at this point that a lot of the soldiers started wondering what was this all about. A civil war such as this had its consequences on the minds of the soldiers. They took comfort in the eagerness of the village people who greeted them and hosted them with kindness. Lord Grer who reigned in this area was the one who had rebelled in the pretext that his family were once reigning this land. Yet most of his people left him behind, scouring at the plague of war the lord had brought upon them and impatiently awaiting the King's peace. Those they met on the battlefield were the ones loyal to the previous order of things.

Chevalier looked at the prisoners they took and he could not help but get a sickening feeling inside him. In the world he envisioned nations co-existed harmoniously. But, right in front of him, was proof of the impossibility of this dream. Even after a thousand years of living under a common monarch, a region of Istidor had rebelled, brought war, and pronounced their loyalty to a King no one knew if he was the true descendant of the one that submitted. If Obsidian defeated them one day, would the people of Rhodolite act as the ones they were fighting?

"Things have been already better since Prince Edward became King", he heard one of the women say one day. She and other villagers were stirring fresh gathered milk over the heat of a fire.

"It'll be even better when the princess takes the crown", said another one.

"Bless her soul! She's the heart of our nation!"

"I've never seen any noble even come close to us"

Chevalier stopped. He turned around and headed for the small group of villagers. "The princess was here?", he asked frantically.

They all paused and looked at each other in confusion for a while. "Yes, she led the troops that just left for the fortress"

"Was Gilbert with her?". Chevalier waited for their answer until he realised they might not even know who Gilbert is. "The Obsidianite Emperor", he said, "He wears an eyepatch"

"I don't believe so"

Chevalier clenched his fists at his side instead of throwing them up in the air in a display of a joyous victory.

"I heard of that, isn't she marrying him in the summer?"

"Yes she is"

"No", Chevalier interrupted the villagers' talk again, "She's not marrying that bastard"

He walked as fast as he could without running. One of the generals greeted him; Chevalier passed him by without even hearing what the man said. He climbed on his horse and urged him to go to the south. It was not long before he realised the general followed him but he did not care. Soon the troops the villagers talked about came into view. They stopped, presumably to assess if he posed a threat. The general yelled something behind him and the soldiers relaxed. He rode to the front of the line to cut them off. He urged his horse to stop.

There you were, even more shocked than he was to see him again. He stared deep into your beautiful eyes. You were staring back at him. You were there. You were real. Close enough to talk to. Close enough to touch. Chevalier could not speak; he could only breathe.

"Your Highness!", the general said shocked as he saw you, "Forgive us. We come from the 36th Battalion. This is Earl Michel. He's new I'm afraid. I don't know what's gotten into him"

"Earl?", you asked. Your bottom lip was trembling even though the rest of your body was standing straight and calm. You were keeping it together pretty well, but Chevalier knew you better than to be fooled by that abnormal calmness. "I have not heard of an Earl Michel before", you said.

"Yes well...", the general twirled his hands before he frantically had to reach back for the reigns of his nervous steed, "He's a close associate of your brother from what I am aware"

"I was merely a knight", said Chevalier, "But I was given a grander title for saving the prince's life. Your father...the King...learnt of my capabilities and made the title even higher still"

"I see"

You smiled a bit but You snuffed it out. Chevalier could tell you were certainly finding it humorous, this whole charade, especially after he told you both your father and brother were accomplices in it. He had not seen you in so long...were you always this beautiful?

You turned to the man on her right. "Lead everyone to the wall. I shall join you later this evening", you said.

"Ma'am, that is too dange-"

"Name a better rider among us and I'll stay", you told him, "Since the 36th is here too I'd like to let them in on our plan"

The man nodded and the three of you rode back to the village. After a brief meeting with the generals, you asked that Earl Michel stay a bit longer for...disciplinary purposes.

"What are you doing here?", your eyes were already red with unshed tears.

"What does it look like?"

"Why are you not in Rhodolite Chevalier?", you said, "You're a King for goodness' sake!"

"Rhodolite survived without a King for a whole month it can do so again", he said calmly, "Besides, I left specific instructions"

You sniffed. "I told you. It's over", your lip trembled again. You took a deep breath. "The world doesn't revolve around you", she said, "I have much more important things to consider than you. And in case you have forgotten, I am already happily engaged"

"Then why are you crying?"

As soon as he spoke the word some of the tears you desperately held back escaped you. They ran down your flustered cheeks until they dripped onto the wooden floor of the small cabin you had isolated yourselves in.

"Go back. Now", you said, "Please"

Chevalier let out a deep breath. "I have two things I need to say", he walked towards you.

"Okay", you gulped back your tears, "Let's hear it then"

"I realised...I never said it before", he cupped your cheek, "Y/N I..."

"Don't", you shook your head, "Don't say it. Forget me. Move on. It'll pass"

"It won't"

He reached under his breastplate and took out a tattered book. Wettened and dried, stained and crinkled, but still whole.

"Is that..."

"You left it in my room", he said and handed over the detective novel to you. You hugged it against your chest as he raised your chin with his crooked finger. "I love you", he looked deep into your eyes, "That won't change no matter how many years pass"

"You can't know that", you gave up on holding back your tears.

"30 years", Chevalier said, "I've spent 30 years on this Earth. In the world we live in that is about half my life. Even more than that considering the amount of people who want me dead. Do you really believe after all this time I spent unloved, that I'm incapable of recognising the one person who will possess all my thoughts for the rest of time? You stole my heart, y/n. You did not burrow it. There is no bringing it back unless you're by my side"

"Chevalier..."

He cupped your cheeks. "I love you", he said, "So if you want me to go you have to say you don't love me back"

"That's not fair..."

"I know. I'm sorry", Chevalier left a kiss on your forehead, "But I can't say it. I can't deny what I feel for you. Not anymore. I thought you'd be happy without me. Happier even. Say that you were and I'll leave. But don't you dare lie about this".

"I...", your breaths came heavy, his gaze was even heavier, "I missed you..."

Your hands scrunched up his black cloak as you balled your fists. You did not want him to leave. You did not even want him to let go. Tears kept falling from your cheeks and sliding down the metal of his breastplate until he wiped your eyes dry.

"Happiness is a very fragile thing", said Chevalier, "I cannot promise you a life of bliss. No one can. But when it comes between you and me, y/n, you will always matter most. And I'll do anything to keep a real smile on your face...because y/n, even though you're beautiful even in tears...your smile is simply radiant. So, with that in mind..."

He pulled back his cloak and got down on one knee. He took your hand in his and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles. "I know this might not be what you want after all this time you've spent tied to Gilbert. I wish there was another way to keep the nobles appeased but there's not. So I'll say it now...my goal and love will not change. But even if you say yes we will move at the pace you choose. And if you ever wish to leave me...well it'll shatter my heart but I'll do my best to go on without you", he reached inside a small pouch tied to his waist next to his scabbard, "I know people tend to use their family rings but I won't. It's yours if you want it but my mother never had love or happiness in her marriage so I will not propose to you with her ring"

Instead, he took out a gorgeous white gold ring. A blue diamond was nestled between the open petals of a rose at the head.

"If you say no now I promise you'll never see me again", Chevalier's smile was full of sorrow, "But don't think that'll ever bring me joy. If...if you love me...help me fight for us. And trust that I would never hurt you with false hope. Trust that I myself see hope for a future where we are both happy, together"

You kneeled next to him. His smile fell more the longer you took to answer. "You know", you cupped his cheeks, "My library has been excessively filling with romance books lately". He chuckled. You leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss. "My heart aches with the love I have for you", you laid your head on his broad shoulder, "You say you care more about my happiness than yours...but the problem is, that's the same for me"

"I figured", Chevalier combed your hair with his fingers, "But for once please choose for yourself. Humans are born selfish. Don't ask me to be one and then deny yourself the right".

"Gilbert will be furious"

"I know. We'll cross that bridge when we have to"

You clenched your hands as they held him. "I...I'm scared", you said, "He'll try to hurt you. Kill you"

"He already did"

You raised your head. Chevalier cupped your cheek.

"Even if he succeeds, which is very unlikely, I will not have any regrets. Not about you. Not about us"

"Chevalier..."

"I love you", he held your face, "Do you love me?"

A moment passed before you let out a shuddering breath. "Yes...more than anything I ever did. More than anything I ever will"

He pulled you in for a kiss. "Then there's only one answer, even if you don't want to say it", he picked up your hand and wore the ring on your finger. He kissed your knuckles again. With his hand he brushed your hair away from your face. "You're my everything, y/n", he said, his voice dripping with more emotion than he ever showed in his life, "If you take everything away, all that is left is nothing. Do you think I'll ever be happier like that?"

#ikepri #ikemen prince #chevalier michel #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri chevalier #ikepri gilbert #the obsidianite jewel #ikepri x reader #chevalier x reader #ikemen prince chevalier

31 notes · View notes

that--unusual-person · 2 years ago

Note

Cosmic anon gets it‼️‼️

There is so much more i would do the Starscream like pick him up with my bare cold hands and shake him like the ginger girl from finding Nemo and force him to watch all Shrek movies while all stars from smash mouth plays in the back non stop. Baking him into a cake is also a great options and the salad spinner with him in is just a great way to stim❤️. Just aggressively making that thing turn around and around. i once broke a salad spinner as a kid because i did it so agressivly breaking the handle and making the spinner fall on the floor and partly breaking into pieces. I imagine Starscream just being a puddle at this point, if so then he goes right back in the jar and then i microwaves him because i wanna know what will happen. if nothing does i would bite his head (lovingly) and rattle him around like a dog with their chew toy, barking while doing so and run around on all four running in circles.

I would squeeze him like those stress toys who's eye pop out dramatically and then throw him on the wall and hope he would stick on it right above my bed, that way when i stare on the celling i can see him before i fall asleep ❤️. Bc he is so cool and awesome he should be the last thing i see when i go into dreamland and also the first thing i see when i wake up❤️.

With the others i can't say my thirst for pathetic meow meows oozes for them. Like Starscream has just this pathetic wet sock, crying in the rain while covered in the mud, hopeing you would take him back as a lover while, i will always love you, plays in the back and you just throw a shoe at him to make him go away. He doesn't tho and looks at you with those big silly eyes, you still take him back because there is just SOMETHING about him you don't find in others, kind of vibe.

He is so pathetic and loving, his dumb stupidity grin that melts your heart while his clownery makes you wanna put him in a potato sack where only his head peaks out and put him in the damp,cold, dark basement. He is so dumb and cute and ratty.

Soundwave is just straight up my loving husband that i would wife up and give all my love without the insanity. The Bot is already dealing with so much he deserves a break and a soft tenderly kiss on the cheek while i tell him how great he is. I would draw him like an old painter draws their lover and muse; full of grace and power, elegance that you don't see anywhere else. The paintings of the time where he still was by my side the only thing reminding me how he looks like while my brain slowly withers away. My mind forgetting how his voice filled my hears like a wonderful song and his touch like the warm rays of the sun. But my heart beating for him and knowing even if i forget how he looks like my it will still remember him. Writing love sick writing poetry about the fuzzy warm feeling i had in the past seeing paintings of this mysterious person i clearly knew in the past. Writing about his beauty that shines from the inside out. Watching the moon, thinking of his dazzling eyes feeling cold and lonely not having him by my side, wishing each day that he would finally be here to fall in love a second time❤️ (but your genius for the things you wrote down).

Same with shockwave, but i have to admit i really wanna bite his mono-boob while skedaddling on his body like an insect. My feelings for shocker is in between of soundwave and Starscream.

I wanna cling on his leg and try to shake him around (knowing it won't happen because he is a THICC BOY). he would need me to put me in those child dog leashes or cages to make me stop fooling around and chewing on him. I would probably just straight up gulp down one of his chemicals to mess with him not caring if i die or grow a third arm. I honestly hope i would be his Starscream ❤️❤️ Him observing me in my silly little jar while i lick the glass like stich at the beginning of the movie❤️

I would be the fluffy cat getting petted sleeping on the lap of the villain as they spin around to face the hero of the story.

Anyway i hope it's obvious I'm very autistic about these three.(apologies for the insane ramblings I'm sleep deprived and ate like 13 chocolate muffins).

-thick shockwave/jar Starscream anon

#transformers #maccadam #soundwave #answer #digital art

75 notes · View notes

leeminuwu · 1 year ago

Text

MY HAPPY MARRIAGE | Gojo Satoru (2)

—In which the disgraced older daughter of a small clan gets an offer from the strongest sorcerer in the world, an offer she can't refuse, an unusual prospect of marriage.

TW : domestic violence, physical abuse, suicidal ideation, suicide, self harm, 18+ themes | minors dni

Pairing : Gojo Satoru X OC, slight! Geto suguru x oc, slight! Sukuna X OC

Part One

TWENTY YEARS AGO

THE FIRST TIME a young Gojo Satoru arrived at the Furukawa household, he was eight years old. A god amongst men. A prodigy of his clan. That is what he knew and it was also the truth. To be born with both six eyes and limitless at his disposal, he was a young god amongst Jujutsu Sorcerers. Hence, warm hospitality was something he didn't particularly worry about. He knew that everyone cowered at his feet to please him, especially if it was a family trying to climb the prestige ladder in the Jujutsu World. Much like the Furukawa clan. Yet, he found himself exasperated and frankly bored listening to the full discussions of the elders.

Despite all his powers, Gojo Satoru was still a child. He wished to play, and the gardens looked especially tempting. But a problem arose, who can I play with?. The youngest son of the house was a mere child of five, who seemed quite stupid for his own good.

If there were no chances of frolic, he decided to walk the gardens by himself. A decision, that earned him a sigh from his father and grandfather. I'll never be a bore like them when I grow up. He grumbled to himself, and skipped into the lush gardens that had bloomed under the spring's grace.

The gardens were certainly not as big as his clan's. The Furukawa household reeked of new money, and their pretentiousness of trying to come off as elegant sorcerers made Gojo Satoru bite back laugh. Yet the small garden helped him calm down quite a lot. The boy walked a far as he could from the house. A lot less people, a lot less cursed energy. He thought to himself. His eyes could detect the smallest amounts to cursed energy, and that day he had seen more than his fair share emitting from the house.

While he was grateful for his abilities. He often wondered, how the world looked like without all the curses in the air.

Lost in his introspections, the boy who could sense even the smallest movements around him, was startled by a loud thud.

"What the —" Gojo looked around him, only to find a girl positioned like a cat on her forelimbs, her yukata covered in mud.

Why didn't I sense her?

The young boy was irked by the girl's lack of presence and had decided to approach her. She'd clearly fallen off the tree, yet she'd not made a sound of pain and she'd continued to pick up persimmons off the ground.

"Oi, girl!" He'd called out to her, his cheeks puffing in annoyance. How did she not emit any cursed energy?

But the girl chose not to respond, as she continued to pick up the countless persimmons in her tiny arms.

"Hey, you—" he asked a little louder, the girl's ears perked up like a rabbit as she finally heard Gojo. His footsteps towards her had gotten louder.

"Are you talking to me?" The girl asked, as her eyes widened like a doe in the headlights.

"What is your name?"

"Furukawa Chihaya" The young Furukawa girl was still confused, the boy looked like a foreigner, with his white hair and and blue eyes and couldn't understand why a foreigner would speak to her in fluent japanese.

"But why do you—" before she could finish, the realisation dawned on her, making her eyes widened in surprise. The boy infront of her was no foreigner, it was the the prodigy, she'd heard about. He is like a god. She remembered her mother saying, as she wrapped her yukata that morn. "Kami Sama!" The girl exclaimed, bowing down abruptly as the orange fruits in her arms scattered on the ground once again, startling Gojo as well.

"Ha??" Gojo lifted his brow in confusion, "What are you doing? I am not a god, geez what a pain!" The boy spoke, running his hand through his hair.

The girl lifted up her head, only to restart picking up the fruits that had fallen down, "Mother told me to treat you like a one, because she says you are the blessed one" she said, while grabbing hold of the last stray fruit.

She turned to him and gave him a warm smile.

Gojo scoffed, "Yeah, whatever I don't really care" he cleared his throat and continued "Hey Chiyo, tell me something—"

"It's Chihaya actually—"

"Chiyo" He smirked, "Why don't you emit cursed energy, huh? Is this some sort of new trick that I don't know about?"

Chihaya tilted her head in sheer confusion. "I don't have cursed energy, Gojo sama" she stated in a matter of fact way.

"I don't believe you. That's not possible. Every human being emits cursed energy" More so, non curse users like her.

Chihaya smiled yet again, however this time her smile was melancholy. "I wish I had cursed energy, my father says my cursed energy is so less that he worries if I am even human" she chuckled.

Less? No. She didn't have any. He was certain of it. The girl was an anomaly.

"Does your cursed technique suppress your cursed energy then?" He asked again, just to be clear of the freak of nature that had taken a form of a young girl with chubby plush cheeks.

She tiled her head again, a confused look in her brown doe eyes, "I don't know what you mean"

Gojo felt like nature was playing a sick joke on him, making him come across someone who could evade six eyes with their lack of cursed energy. His anger diminished to amusement. What a strange girl. He took another look at her, her arms full of ripe persimmons as she looked around awkwardly.

"Do you want something?" She asked again, those same clueless eyes. Making the young boy realise, perhaps—that odd girl had been no threat at all. Perhaps his suspicions of her had been misplaced.

"You're so weird" Gojo cracked into a hearty laughter, "I never thought weaklings could be this entertaining!"

"How mean!" The girl lifted her cheeks in annoyance, and Gojo swore she looked as round as the persimmons she held. He pinched her cheeks, making her let out a small "ouch"

"I'll be taking some" the boy swiftly picked up two of the fruits the girl and gathered, and started to run away laughing about the whole ordeal. What a stupid, weird girl.

"Hey, give them back! I found them first!"

Chihaya ran behind him as much as her damned yukata allowed her to, dropping her collected fruits in the floor. The persimmons rolled scattered under the tree, once again.

_______________

PRESENT DAY

Years later, when Gojo Satoru returned to those shabby walls of the old Furukawa mansion, he had a characteristic smile on his face as he stood under the scrutinizing gazes the higher ups as head of his clan. Their faces veiled under the dimly lit room. It had been a while since as meeting of higher ups had occurred at the Furukawa household. It was an uncharacteristic destination, however it suited the main topic of contention for the day. The fate of Chihaya Furukawa.

In the dim room, Gojo could only make out the silhouette of Utahime. Whilst he felt Yaga's presence and stern gaze on him. Gojo was aware that his actions of transporting Chihaya to the Jujutsu High was a controversial one, however that day he was ready to face the music. He was ready to unveil what had occurred at the Chiba Montessori Academy, three days ago. After all, he never undertook actions were never without a reason.

"Are you aware about the number of casualties?"

"Of course" He replied, "I was the one who got her out of that fire after all" he continued with a finger to his chin "However, I believe the firefighters had already doused most of the fire that day"

"—20 children were injured and around of 2 staff were blazed" another added, prohibiting Gojo from digressing from the issue.

A small smirk formed on Satoru's face.

"But you probably don't care about that do you?" He questioned with a taunt in his voice. Earning a tsk from Utahime, who'd been escorting Gagkuganji at the council that day, out of sheer worry for her old friend.

Naobito Zenin appeared from the shadows, his disposition solemn as the Buddha, he was accompanied by Haruto Furukawa, his eyes devoid of any apparent emotion. Of course the head of the Zenin clan had to make his point. Especially since, he shared a cordial relationship with the leech of a man beside him. Haruto Furukawa carried a small diary with him, a decrepit object of old, as the man laid it forth on the small table that was kept at the centre of the dark room.

"This is my late wife's record" Haruto began, "She kept this diary to note down the various happenings of her daily life, this is but one of those several journals" He continued, as he stood under the dim light source that illuminated the room. Solidifying his position in the room full of esteemed sorcerer, his features from as a stern old judge, "As Yuki's husband, I believe I must atone for her crime against the Jujutsu council, for she and her esteemed family had hidden crucial details about their bloodline that could cause potential harm to the world at large" the man said, his voice strong as a horse, as his head bowed in shame.

It was the head of the Zenin clan who spoke up next, making the ashamed man, lift his head in surprise at the former's words.

Gojo smile grew. How unusual.

"Let me be clear as crystal" the man sighed, not a single emotion betraying his obdurate voice, "Chihaya Furukawa's body bears the mark of the unfortunate Machi curse sorcerers have been investigating for a while, her body is a bomb waiting to go off on the entire Jujutsu World" he continued, his dark eyes burrowing holes into Gojo's form, however the whole ordeal was merely amusing to him. "We are of the knowledge that Suguru Geto is trying to get through to her as well—hence, taking her in, would be a fallacy on your part"

"I am well aware of the risks" Gojo remarked.

"Are you?" It was now the head of the Furukawa clan who spoke, his voice bellowing with caution, "she is a vessel to a powerful sorceress Lady Akane, and we saw how she burnt the entire school. You are but playing with fire Gojo kun"

"See this is where you're wrong Furukawa san, Chihaya is not merely a vessel is she?" Gojo turned his eyes to Utahime who shifted uncomfortably. "I am sure there are those who are aware of the true nature of her power"

"She—" the woman sighed, insufferable brat. All the eyes had turned to her. "According to the brief research we conducted post the incident, we have suspicions and assume that she is not merely a vessel. If we are to look into the records of the Machi clan then, she is Akane herself. We can say that there was some reincarnation ritual involved before her death that bound her to the Machi bloodline. It is just that, her body hasn't been awakened yet, however, the incident at Chiba was a grave sign that her body may have finally started to awaken"

"Is there any confirmation regarding the nature of her power?" An elder asked from the shadows, his voice heavy with contempt. "Lady Akane was a sorceress of malice. While her vessel might be a much easier to eradicate. Reincarnation rituals are troublesome things"

Before Utahime could answer the elder's queries, a rather proactive Gojo Satoru, turned all eyes to his form with a chuckle and his rather animated style of walking and hovering hands to explain the ordeal. "It's difficult to break the cycle of birth and death, if she has bound herself to the bloodline. Killing her would risk a rebirth in the future in the same bloodline, perhaps a more distant relative who'd be much harder to track" Gojo stated in a matter of fact manner. His dark shades, sliding down his nose to reveal a mysterious glint in his eyes.

"We are still looking into the probably of the reincarnation ritual, there is hardly any proof for that. She might just be a vessel" Haruto Furukawa remarked, "I have sent Makoto and his cousins to seek out the records from the Machi household"

"Quite an elaborate way to say that you've sent out your son to kill your late wife's family" His playful eyes darkened as his lips upturned into a wicked smile, Gojo's hands were tucked behind his back as his six eyes burrowed holes into old Haruto's tainted soul.

The air in the roomed seem to thicken with the young sorcerer's accusation. Silence spoke the truth.

The tension was evaded as soon as Naobito Zenin cleared his throat.

"Vessel or a reincarnated sorceress, it would be dangerous to let her free nonetheless. However, the council is also well aware that killing her would only transfer the curse to some distant blood relative of the Machi clan" he continued, his eyes on Gojo as he spoke "keeping her in this compound of Furukawa estate itself is a good decision. As long as the transformation isn't complete"

Utahime's hands balled into fists. She couldn't believe that the higher ups would choose to keep her locked up with her scum of a father, rather than find a solution for her issue. Gojo could sense the woman's frustration, however he chose to wait before delivering his proposition.

"She is a walking hazard. Staying at home would keep her bounded" Haruto added curtly.

The head of the Gojo clan bursts into a laugh, holding onto his stomach, earning a glare from his old teacher, "You're funny old man, I thought you didn't have any sense of humour to you!"

"Excuse me?" Haruto Furukawa rolled his eyes in exasperation.

As Gojo compose himself, he grinned widely, his shit eating grin making most of the attendees groan internally, "Say, Chihaya—who is barely a grade 4 sorcer now, would atleast triple in her cursed energy output as Akane is awakened. Let's say she even ends up being a special grade 1 by the end of it. I doubt you or your son are even strong enough to handle her" he continued, as he walked towards the older man, his voice lowering in a sinister tone, "and what if Geto were to find? Would you be able to stop him?"

"We are willing to give our lives to end the witch who has bought immense shame to our name" Haruto bellowe with an unyielding resolve.

Gojo's eye twitched in annoyance. Bastards.

"And if situation calls for Geto Suguru to seek Chihaya out, we will not hesitate to end her life. Even if her awaking is not complete"

"Admirable" Gojo said with a tight smile. "but foolish"

This is not the time for me to be angry.

The voice of an older man resounded with reason, Gagkuganji, a man who remained a staunch follower of the higher-ups seemed to aid Gojo's cause, even if he was not aware of it, "Do you have a better alternative?" He continued, "Is it not better for a family to deal with the misgivings of their own blood rather than involving outsiders?"

"Precisely!" Gojo exclaimed, his swift change on time, startled Haruto Furukawa, much like the others present in the room.

"Matters of old curses should be solved within families" Gojo grinned turning to Haruto, the abhorrent grin resuming onto his features "Hence I present you with a prospect"

"A prospect?" The older man inquired, almost fearful of the next set of words that would spill out of Gojo Satoru's lips.

"I will marry your daughter!" Gojo exclaimed, pointing his slender finger at the older man, as his crystalline blue eyes peaked from the back of his glasses that had slid down his now slightly. His mouth was wide with a toothy grin and Haruto Furukawa swore he could hear his wife mocking him with a laugh from her grave.

The council erupted into murmurs.

Gojo Satoru had expected shock, but not such a lukewarm response to his proposition. Little did he know his sole, supposed, ally in that council, Utahime was seething at the young sorcerer from across the room.

"Nonsense" Haruto continued, after refusing simply as he waved his hand. "This is not the time for your frivolous propositions"

Gojo let out a hearty laugh, worsening the air of sheer gall that stopped the murmurs of the Jujutsu council

"Yet it is perfect opportunity" he said after composing himself, as he turned to the council, "I wish to take responsibility of Chihaya's life. I will wed her at the earliest date and then she will be under my care" walks around the room "If Akane chooses to evolve through Chihaya, I will make sure to end her life after the awakening and break the curse, so that it is no longer transferred to another faultless child"

Haruto gasped. Throughout his years in the Jujutsu World, the last thing he'd want to do was welcome a conceited Gojo into his family. His eyes shifted to Naobito Zenin, who stood with a poker face, contemplating on the whole ordeal.

"Why is it that the great Gojo Satoru chooses to take upon himself the matters of the Furukawa household?" The Zenin headman asks, with a hint of venom in his voice.

"Because I am the strongest" he stated with a smirk as he turned to meet Yaga's gazs, his voice lower than before "Only I can keep her out of Geto's reach"

Whilst his words were firm declaration to the entire council. Yaga could almost sense a hint of sincerity in his old student's voice.

________

GOJO SATORU HAD received an earful from Yaga post the council meeting. However his perils were far from being dismissed. As he teleported back to the Tokyo Metropolitan Jujutsu High, he felt a rage filled surge of cursed energy almost smacking him at the back of his head. An attempt, that had been promptly blocked by the likes of his infinity once again.

"GOJO SATORU, YOU PIG!" Utahime screamed as she almost pounced on the younger man with her cursed energy. "I'm not going to let you honey trap my bestfriend"

Gojo let out a laugh, turning to meet the livid eyes of his senior.

"That's a lot of concern for someone who abandoned you and Shoko on a breezy August morning" he chimed in, clearly grinding the woman's gears.

She let out a tsk in annoyance to his words. Why did he have to bring that up. She wondered.

"She was going through a lot back then. I could never be mad at her for leaving us out of the blue. Especially with her father and her engagement—"

"Yeah, yeah save the sob stories for the reunion" Gojo faked a yawn, irking the woman yet again. This brat.

"For the record, I am not honey trapping her" he smirked as he continued, with his hands tucked behind him, "I am just keeping her away from Geto"

"It's rich of you to think that she would just go with him if he called for her" Utahime scoffed. As the evening breeze around them seemed to become chilly. Gojo's eyes turned to see the light clouds that formed a haze in the sky.

"It's hard to let go of one's first love" he said with a small smile on his lips.

Utahime could only stare at him in disbelief.

"I don't think she's particularly hung up on him after all these years"

Gojo chuckled. "You'd be surprised by how one continues to cherish their youth"

The older woman groaned. Gojo Satoru was making no sense, let alone, speaking like his usual self. She knew Geto Suguru was a sensitive topic for him but who knew he could speak in riddles for his sake. She rubbed her temple furiously in confusion. "What is the point? You plan to kill her anyway don't you? I never thought you'd make it easier for Jujitsu council to carry out sentences for once"

"She won't have to die" he said with a confident smile.

Utahime was dumbstruck. Gojo Satoru seemed to have lost the last bit of normalcy.

"You're telling me you'll break that thousand year long curse?!" She exclaimed in disbelief, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Ding ding ding, Correct answer! You bet I will find a way!" Gojo grinned ear to ear.

Under the soft moonlight, Gojo's words seemed the most unrealistic promise shed heard all her life. A plea of making the impossible come true. She wanted to punch the man for playing with her friend's dimming life, yet, that night, much to the woman's dismay, Utahime was presented with a flicker of hope, which she would nurture for a while.

Thank you for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

42 notes · View notes