#love him so much but allas

[1nksta1neddesk]

A Court of Readers and Dreamers

Chapter 12: House Call

The next morning had all of us groaning when we finally gathered together in the dinning room for a late brunch. We all crowded at one end of the table, well it was really only me who had changed position as I had moved the farthest away from the doors as I could. Lucien was massaging his temples as I rested my forehead against the cold wood, it appeared that both of us were hung over as Tamlin sat straight in his chair. He was drinking water for once, evidence of his own hangover despite his denial when I had commented on it when I first dragged myself in.

I looked up at Lucien across from me as I pinched my brows together, “And where did Mr.’save my human hide’ go last night?” I purposely pumped the over exaggerated accusation into my words as I lifted my heavy head from the table.

“On patrol, unlike some people who like frolicing with the moon spirits.” I sent a pointed stare at Lucien at the same time Tam did, “With a little bit of company.” He was too snobby about it for my liking as I leaned back in the chair.

“Cauldron spare any poor female who has to share a night with you.” I groaned at him as I nibbled at a slice of coffee cake and sipped at some sweet tea that had found its way to me. He gave me an offended gasp with a hand drawn to his chest before he fell into a twisted grin.

“Rumor says Tam had to carry in a poor female mortal last night.” His eyebrow curled insufferably and I flicked a piece of hardened sugar at him, his hand swatting the air to deflect it.

“You try being a mortal drunk on two cups of solstice wine, though if you don’t enjoy the feeling of your skull being an anvil I wouldn’t suggest it.” He huffed at me as a slice of strawberry landed on my forehead. I peeled it away and glared at him, prepared to throw it back at him.

“Children, children, please not another food fight.” Tamlin interjected and I looked at him. He had been following my movements all morning as me and Lucien bickered at each other.

Lucien cleared his throat before straightening up, intent on saying something serious. “My contact in Winter Court sent me a letter this morning, Tamlin,” A damper on the energy as Lucien's face drew tight and his face lost the laughing warmth, “The blight took 2 dozen of their younglings, gone.” The cake in my mouth became ashen and where it sat in my stomach became rancid as my stomach roiled. “Burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything—no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is … unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard—though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way—farther south with every attack.”

We sat in heavy silence, none of us reaching for food or drink as we reckoned with the devastation. It was obvious Rhysand was tied to the slaughter, or at least knew of it. My hand was shaky as I reached toward Tamlin’s hand, the fingernails elongated and sharpened into claws where the tips just barely dug into the polished wood. I was just barely soothing the back of his hand before the claws tightened, digging into the wood and Tamlin was growling as his head bobbed higher, detecting something.

Silence echoed through the manor, unnatural as I had become used to the soft bustling of servants and birds that hung around the balconies. It was wrong as Lucien drew a short sword he must have taken with him on patrol as Tamlin’s canines were elongeated a gleaming with saliva.

“Get Feyre to the window -- by the curtains.” The command was stone as Lucien and I both rose from the table quickly, him pushing me against the wall, pinning me in the drapery as he leaned back into me as though willing me to flatten into paper and melt into the wall. The smallest twinge of smoking cedar pushed with him and I knew I was glammored from view. Tamlin stared at the open doors as Lucien's hand tightened on the hilt, knuckles going white as I wiggled against his back. Tam still sat in his chair, slouching to appear casual for just a moment before casual clicks of hard soled shoes echoed from down the call.

Rhysand appeared at the doors and I stopped wiggling as I stared at him. It wasn’t the same as Calanmai, now he held a mask as he strode into the room as though it was his own home. He stopped a few yards from Tamlin, feline and self assured as he surveyed the room, where Lucien was pretending to gaze out the window.

“High Lord,”he crooned, inclining his head slightly. Not a bow, never a bow. Tamlin stayed in his seat as he looked up at Rhysand, pretending the presence wasn’t causing those claws to remain razor sharp as he cleaned them with a paring knife.

“What do you want, Rhysand?” Tamlin was short in his words, seething it like a viper

Rhysand smiled and I knew he was the real snake, a constrictor already wrapped around its prey as put a hand on his chest. “Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don’t see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that.” His grin widened as he finished, and something I felt the tension squeeze. Lucien pressed me harder that would surely bruise my ribs against the stone of the wall as Rhysand turned, evaluating Lucien as prey.

“A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien.”

“Go to Hell, Rhys,” Lucien snapped.

“Always a pleasure dealing with the rabble,” Rhysand said, and faced Tamlin again. I struggled to breath against the wall but just barely kept from wheezing out each breath.

“I hope I wasn’t interrupting.”

“We were in the middle of lunch,” Tamlin said—his voice void of the warmth to which I’d become accustomed. The voice of the High Lord, but it was weaker than the other High Lord in the room.

“Stimulating,” Rhysand purred.

“What are you doing here, Rhys?” Tamlin demanded, still in his seat.

“I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present.”

“Your present was unnecessary.”

“But a nice reminder of the fun days, wasn’t it?” Rhysand clicked his tongue and surveyed the room. “Almost half a century holed up in a country estate. I don’t know how you managed it. But,” he said, facing Tamlin again, “you’re such a stubborn bastard that this must have seemed like a paradise compared to Under the Mountain. I suppose it is. I’m surprised, though: forty-nine years, and no attempts to save yourself or your lands. Even now that things are getting interesting again.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” conceded Tamlin, his voice low. Rhysand approached Tamlin, and each twitch of muscle that guided him was measured. His voice dropped into a whisper, the same whisper of silk sheets dragging against each other.

“What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin—and an even greater pity that you’re so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic. How different the High Lord is from the brutal war-band leader of centuries ago.”

Lucien interrupted, “What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.”

“Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” Aching pain tightened my chest further as I resisted the urge to separate from Lucien and soothe the cutting edge of those words.

“At least I haven’t bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell.”

Lucien’s sword rose slightly and I pressed a hand against his back, he gained enough sense to lower the tip of the blade to rest against the floor again, “If you think that’s all I’ve been doing, you’ll soon learn otherwise.”

“Little Lucien. You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you.”

I dug a sharp nail into Lucien as he growled and the blade twisted, screeching against the marble floors it scratched. It kept that blade down and I was thankful.

A small sighing laugh as Rhysand shook his head slightly, looking towards Tamlin, “Shouldn’t you correct this behavior, its unbecoming of a High Lords Emissary to be so hostile to another court’s High Lord, don’t you agree?” Darkness rippled from him like the invert of heat waves and my eyes became entranced by the fluttering aura around him.

“I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said.

“Still?” Rhysand crossed his arms. “But it’s so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you.”

“This isn’t the Night Court,” Lucien hissed. “And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha’s bed is growing cold.” If my finger dug back into Lucien’s back he did not react. Anger boiled in me but I tried my best to sooth it as I finished the last touches on my mental shield, fashioned specifically for this meeting.

“I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born,” Rhysand snarled, and he was drawing back as though he had just come to talk about the wonderful weather. “Besides,” his hands slid into the pockets of his pants, “who do you think taught your beloved Tamlin the finer aspects of swords and females? You can’t truly believe he learned everything in his father’s little war-camps.” I scrunch my nose, not quite pleased to hear about gore and sex as a small sweat was breaking at my hairline.

Tamlin rubbed his temples. “Save it for another time, Rhys. You’ll see me soon enough.”

Rhysand meandered toward the door, a neighbor dismissing themselves. “She’s already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you’ve already been broken and will reconsider her offer.”

Lucien’s breath hitched as Rhysand passed the table. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a finger along the back of my chair. “I’m looking forward to seeing your face when you—” Rhysand’s eyebrows pinched just slightly as he studied the table, the extra plate with half-eaten cake on it. Lucien went stick-straight, pressing me harder against the wall.

“Where’s your guest?” Rhysand asked, lifting my goblet and sniffing it before setting it down again, the twinge of disgust on his face informed he did not find the sweet tea as appealing as I did.

“I sent them off when I sensed your arrival,” Tamlin lied coolly.

I felt the excitement at the same time I watched the movement of those shadows pick up. He sniffed the air as he turned and his eyes locked on Lucien, and it was excitement and small disbelief making his eyes glow.

“You dare glamor me?” he growled, his violet eyes burning as they bore into me and I knew he could see me now as Lucien just pressed me harder into the wall. Tamlin’s chair scratched the floor as it was shoved back. He rose, claws at the ready, deadlier than any of the knives strapped to him.

“I remember you,” he purred. I stepped out from behind Lucien even as his had gripped my arm and pulled me back towards him.

He turned to Tamlin. “Who, pray tell, is your guest?”

“My betrothed,” Lucien answered.

“Oh? Here I was, thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries,” Rhysand said, stalking toward me. He was handsome even in his fury as I locked my eyes to his, keeping his gaze as he drew nearer. Dark pulsed from him and I clenched my hands to keep from reaching out to the sentient shadows.

Lucien spat at Rhysand’s feet and shoved his sword between us. Rhysand’s venom-coated smile grew. “You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you’ll learn how quickly Amarantha’s whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady.”

The color leached from Lucien’s face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin who answered. “Put your sword down, Lucien.” I was already ripping my arm from his grasp and pushing down the blade, careful not to slice open my hand as I did so.

“I knew you liked to take filth for your lovers, but to stoop so low as to drabble with the human garbage.” Still I did not break my stare, as I set the last soft layer of metal shield. I had constructed my mind like a stone fruit, soft flesh of mind that I bared to him covered in the barest shield of skin, but the vital thoughts I guarded were at the center, hidden by that flesh in an dense sheild of iron and stone.

Rhysand had not paused as he approached me. “The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I’d keep your new pet well away from your father.”

“Leave Rhys,” Tamlin’s voice led itself to a command but it was no more than a puppy's bark to Rhysand as he paused a body length away from me. I put one foot forward, crossing it across the other as I bent at the waist and bowed formally. I did not have any fear as I straightened from my bow.

“At least someone in this court has manners, perhaps you should teach them to your fiancé.” He grinned down at me ,“If you were wise, you would be screaming and running from this place, from these people. It’s a wonder that you’re still here, actually.”

“My stay ran longer than anticipated, but it is a pleasure to put a name to a face, Rhys.” If he had any doubts they did not cross his face as wicked enjoyment crawled across his face like a spider.

Rhysand was about to speak but Tamlin was growling again, “Get out Rhysand, you have seconds.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue, “If I were you, I wouldn’t speak to me like that Little High Lord.” My body straightened like a rod was ran through every bone and muscle as I felt talons of a large hand scrape along the top most barrier of my mind. The skin of the fruit was sliced and I let small thoughts push out from them as glistening juice. Tastes of the night and towering trees hiding me as I rested during a hunt.

“Let her go,” Tamlin said, bristling, but didn’t advance forward. A kind of panic had entered his eyes, and he glanced from me to Rhysand. If I could reassure him I would, but I still stared back at Rhysand as I softened my eyes, “Enough.”

“I’d forgotten that human minds are as easy to shatter as eggshells,” Rhysand said. I felt one of the claws collect the leaking thoughts, tasting what I presented. “How delightful. You must have gotten a rare one Tam, unable to feel fear even as her mind is just shy of being obliterated.” He crooned at me as his hand wrapped around my throat, thumb tracing my pulse point. I pushed more thoughts out, this time the fear of heights as I strapped myself to a tree of the night, fear of nightmares that haunted me when I dreamed. “Oh it would be quick, I promise.”

“Amarantha will enjoy breaking her,” Rhysand observed to Tamlin. “Almost as much as she’ll enjoy watching you as she shatters her bit by bit.”

Tamlin was frozen, his arms hanging limply next to him, defeated. “Please” If he would just shut up and quit begging I could solve this, and perhaps I let a little too much irritation slip from me as Rhysand’s forehead rose just a bit.

“Please what?” Rhysand taunted as those claws traced swirling patterns into my mind, cutting more and more away and I left more and more thoughts pouring from it.

“Don’t tell Amarantha about her,” Tamlin said, and his voice cracked.

“And why not? As her whore,” he said with an accusatory glance tossed in Lucien’s direction, “I should tell her everything.” Tamlin pleaded again with short ‘please’s. Rhysand made him beg, a simpering mess as he pressed his foot into Tamlin’s head. Maybe I would have felt bad if I was not reminded of the slaughter of both of their families.

Those claws loosened from my mind and I gained control of my limbs again. I shook them lightly before I gave Rhysand a reprimanding smile, flickers of shock skipped over all of their faces as I rubbed at my head.

“It is quite rude to hold a Lady’s mind without asking first.” I pushed hair from my forehead that was leaking sweat. I reformed the shields into something easier to manage, a smooth wall of solid stone. The headache I had been dealing with since I rose from bed dissipated just a bit as my metal strain lessened. Disbelief and horror was across both Tamlin’s and Lucien’s faces as I smoothed out the violet tunic I had chosen this morning on purpose.

“A rare catch indeed, Tamlin.” Rhys grinned at me and behind the mask of cruelty I might have imagined amusement. “What’s your name, love? It is quite unfair that you have mine but I do not have yours.”

I did not let a heartbeat of indecision pass, “Emiline Jacobs.” I had the name on reserve for years, a young woman from The Children of Blessed that made a pastime of stealing from the elderly on market day. It wasn’t enough to condemn her to the death she would face but it was enough to know there wouldn’t be a house burned to ashes.

“Well, this was entertaining. The most fun I’ve had in ages, actually. I’m looking forward to seeing you three Under the Mountain. I’ll give Amarantha your regards.” He was curt as he nipped lint from the matte black tunic and winnowed. The air didn’t even move for a moment, the element afraid of shredding the last bit of Tamlin’s restraint. We were alone and that fractured each of us.

[tennis-kittens]

Santa Clara collection • Andrey Rublev and Karen Khachanov • Miscellaneous

[neobisexual]

having a partner that acts like my parent n calls me a good boy when i Complete A Task has fixed me i think.

[jakesangel]

unrequited love w jake - 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 event request

preview : he is always putting you first, why can't he be his girlfriend. allas, you're only his childhood best friend

word count + genre : angst ( i tried to ) . 3.1k ( word vomit so it's not proofread

warning : dorm roommate, childhood best friends, confession, rejection, happy ending, reader gets in her head easily but never cries, jake is a sweetheart

having jake as a bestfriend is the best thing possible in the world. the sweet australian boy who always help you for your physic exams or who's being his dog layla when you're on your period. but it's also the worst thing because of random girls asking you for his number or being hugged by him because you're his cute little sister. it's even worse because no boys are hitting on you, being too scared of to hit on the leader soccer team's favorite girl. so you're jsut left to watch your love story inexist, daydreams of kissing jake the only thing you can do.

baby y/nie ? are you listening to me ? he said with a pout when he realized you werent listening to his usual lego rants while doing lego. sorry jaeyunie, i just keep thinking about our last exam, but i'm here now, you say as you try to convince him tho the pet name made you sadder than what your thoughts did. y/n ? youre okay ? his worry overtaking his body, dropping the lego piece comming closer to you, you know im here for you hm ? his round eyes searching yours. yes, i promise yunie ! im sorry for worrying you, please tell me about that star wars lego set ? to pretedn to the fullest youre acrually okay, you finish your sentence with your hand on his cheek, smiling softly at him but it wssbt needed as hearinf the wors star wards and lego set together pearked his imaginary puppy ears. he goes back on the set, talking about how excited he is for the pieces to arrive tomorrow, indirectly asking you to do them with him tomorrow . i'm studying tomorrow yunie, i’m not done yet with the last chapter, you reply with some sadness filling your voice, not believing of what you gonna say next, but you could do it with emma ? he gives you a confused expression that can only warms your heart, emma ? why would i do lego with her ? its our thing baby y/nie, he answers nonchalently, as he places the last piece on his now finishes thor hammer. finally ! its looks so good isnt it ! he shows you the piece finally done, come on we need to put it up, it's the best one we've ever done ! he excitedly said, jumping on his feet to go to his bedroom. you followed smiling to his puppiness but also from his unasked reasurance. wouldn't it be better in the living room ? i want to see it too, you say w round eyes too, genuinely wanting to see you guys work everyday. which he is more than happy to comply, his love for your happiness alwaya taking over when it fomes to you. omg yes ! always having good ideas, y/nie !, kissing your cheek as he goes to tje round tbale in the center of the kivinf room.

it comes to a shock, coming back from classes to see the said emma on the sofa, checking the lego pieces done just a day before. oh hi y/n, i didn't hear you coming, she said staying on the sofa, just turning around, not even greeting you properly. she has that arrogant smile of hers, paired w her high knee boots and mini skirt. you smile back, going straight to your room, studies waiting or you, you know i should thank you for talking about me to jake but it would be hypeocite of me to do so. we all really really hate you, so please, once jake is mine, stop bothering me hm ? she warned me before turning around to reapply your lipgloss. you can't even defend yourself as jake comes back from his room, smiling at you. baby y/nie ? how was your day ? he asked as he comes for a hug. just classes, you know how it is. you ? you hug him tighter to piss emma even more. as much as he will never date you, he is still your jake and everyone knows it, that she likes it or not. dont wait for me tonight, im having dinner with emma. but i made you your usually study snack and ive made a study plan waiting for you on ur desk. please use it well hm ? he softly says, detaching from you, see you later baby y/nie, domt stuyd too late! he says, coming closer to her, not even looking at her but taking the girls hands, making her proudly smile at you, winning the mental battle you both had. he doesnt even see it as he waits for you to bid him goodbye, which you gladly do, not forgetting to add the baby innfromt of his name, makimg him giggle and getting a frown from her. finally gone, you enter your bedroom, plopping on your bed, softly sighing, taking in everything that had happened. why would she hate me ? ive never ever talked to her, but when she asked me his phone number. and who is we ? are the girls threatened by you ? do they think i have a chance with jake ? or even the boys ? that would explain why none of thek ask me out ? but what about him ? is emma even his type ? she is pretty and seems smart but she is also so arrogant and entitle ? cant he see it ? or is it actually what he likes ?

trying to study is useless, your thoughts belonging to jake, you can only take a shower and pray for the best tomorrow. but even as you shampoo your hair, you can't help but think about emma's reaction. was she really scared of you or is it just her usual self ? so you've been standing there, the water hitting your scalp, for 30 minutes, trying to figure out what you should do. if she was really scared of you that means you can actually have a future with jake as your boyfriend. all the baby y/nie or little gesture will come out as romantic and not as his little sister anymore. as you realized you have a chance, you finish your day in peace, eating the snack jake made you, his infamous ramen, heating it up before going the watch a movie on the sofa. it's only mid movie in, you hear the keys in the door, announcing jake's arrival. i'm in living room ! you whisper yell, letting him know of your presence. y/nie ? why are you still awake at this time bby, he say wrapping his arms around your neck, are you done studying, he finally whisper in your ear, making you all fuzzy. not really, but i saw your study plan, i'll read it before sleeping. join me ? the movie is almost done. you offer, your head titling so you can look at him, i also want to cuddle with you and you can tell me about your date ? you ask cutely, knowing jake wouldn't never say no to cuddles with you. anything you want bby, he says with a kiss before detaching himself from your back. he would smile as he lay on your belly, indirectly asking you to play with his hair, which isn't even needed to be asked. he rubs his face on you, almost cat like, and hums finally getting comfortable. did you have a bad day yunie ? you seemed okay earlier. you softly ask, still brushing hair hair. yeah, it's just emma. she isn't how i thought she was and she talked bad about you so im just disappointed. i could never date someone who doesn't like you bye y/nie, you mean to much for me he says, his head finally lift up, looking right at you. besides she is too much of a diva, i prefer someone like you. someone who wouldnt judge me for playing legos or playing with my hair without needing to be asked to, he smiles at you. i'm really lucky to know you y/nie, he finishes, his head finally going back on the rubbing, acting as if those words were normal to be told, but you know jake is someone really vocal, specially to you, but you can't help but hear something else. like he wants you. and more than just friends. me too yunie, im really really happy to have you by my side. besides who wouldn't want to play with your soft hair, i love them so much. you say making the both of you giggle. and it's like that, the day ends, jake laying on you and you playing with his hair, comfort filling the living room.

omg jake wake up ! we're gonna be late for the exam ! is how up you started your day. but you're now, here, almost tearing where you were soothing jake yesterday who is now the one comforting you, which is something you hate the most. i'm okay jake, we don't have to talk about it, let's just order pizza please. jake knows you aren't the type to talk about your feelings, specially when you feel like crying but for some reason today he can't stop pressuring you, come on y/nie baby, we can talk about it. im sure u didn't do that bad, you'll do better next time, he tried to reassure you, his hand coming to your hair, stroking it. jake, you said, going back, leaving a inch between the two of you, i do not want to talk about it. are you gonna order them or should i do it, you reply almost too coldly. y/n please, i know you, you don't have to keep it in. i'm sorry you feel disappoint- if you know me you'd know i don't want to talk about it nor do i enjoy being in this position right now, jake, you cut him off leaving the living room to go in your bed room, leaving a sad puppy by himself. you feel awful for snapping at him, but you couldn't help it as your nerves are already hanging w a thin thread because of that exam. and having jake all over you, interrogate you with question over your feelings is too much.

you didn't realized you zoned out, right here, sitting up on the edge of your bed, until you hear jake's knock on your door, y/n ? can you open the door please ? you hear a scared jake on the other side of the door, yeah come in, making him enter your bedroom. he never looked this sad, your best friend never wanted to make you sad or be the cause of your distress. ive ordered the pizzas do you want some ? he softly ask, slowly coming towards you, scared to do the wrong thing. it's in the kitchen if you do want it. he is finally in front of you, kneeling up to see your face. i'm sorry if i pressured you, y/nie, i know you don't like being vulnerable. i don't know why i pressured you. he softly tells, his finger lifting your chin to look at him. my apologize baby. he finishes with his eyes asking for forgiveness. i'm so sorry too, i shouldn't have lashed out on you, you say as you throw your arms around you. you're always so so nice to me, i shouldn't have snapped at you. i'm sorry jake, you really dont deserve it, as your arms thigthens around his neck. hearing you, only made his heart sadden, he picks you up by your thighs, to make you more comfy in the bed w a come on baby,let's get you comfy. you can only giggle to that making his heart and mind happy again. once settled, your head on his chest, his on your pillow, a comfortable silence falls upon the both of you. his arms encircling you and his thumbs softly stroking your skin, his soft scent filling up your nose, made you feel such at peace. cuddling with jake is always so calming and comforting and it's somehow making you fearless to tell him your true feelings. jaeyunie ? you say looking up to him, asking for his attention. hm ? he just replies , already looking at you. always looking at you. i feel really good with you. i love being in your arms or playing with your hair. you're confident jake likes you back, he wouldn't be here if he didn't right ? me too y/nie baby, me too, he softly chuckled, happy that you arent mad at him anymore. no jake i mean it, i love it all. youre so nice, and smart and i just can't help but want to be more than your best friend. you expected to see a jake smiling at you, but you're faced with a jake with a confused furrowed brows. what ? as he detach himself from you, to actually look at you, looking for any joke in your face. i hate it when you go on dates with others girl or when you call me baby because im a year younger than you, i want to be the one holding your arm on friday nights or being called baby because you like me as your gf, you explain yourself, the end of the your phrase said in a whisper. and the once comfortable silence became anxious to you, jake processing your tirade. do you not feel the same way ? you asked scared of his verdict, but that only made him leave the room, shock overtaking him.

since then jake been avoiding you. the once nights fulled of braiding jake's hair and legos are now replaced with the living room empty, the light always turned off. jake spent his time either at practice or in his room, even avoided you in the kitchen, going in when you leave or leaving you when you go in. you on the other hand, is busying yourself with studies trying to do your best for the next final but it's mostly to stay in denial of your current situation. you've lost your best friend, and every time you come out of your room, the thor hammer keeps reminding you of it. he even stopped offering his help for any studies, or prepared you any study snacks. he stopped looking at you or mentioning you. the girls also stopped coming to you for his number, sensing the shift of your dynamic with him, but going straight to him. it even more painful now to see so many dolled up girls all over him, all of them knowing you aren't in the picture anymore. so here you are, spending a friday night by yourself after the long week full of studying n repressing your feelings. you know jake isn't going to be here tonight, surely in one of many dates he has, so you snuggle yourself on the couch along with snack you bought yourself earlier. but it came to a surprise, to see jake arriving at 7pm. he stops when he sees the tv light on, not knowing if he should greet you or not. he simply stay frozen, the both of you staring at each other, but like a week ago, he leaves you alone, going into his bedroom. and you thought all of this didnt affected you that much, but as you have nothing to focus on anymore, you can only cry, right there, in front of the movie you picked earlier, for the first time in a long time.

the tears keep failling down as the movie goes by, the tv light the only thing linking your mind and reality together, you can't even hear how loud you are. your sobs doesn't go unnoticed by jake, coming out of his room. you don't even hear his first y/n ? your back the only thing he can see. he never saw you nor hear you crying, and the scene in front of you is way too funny to make you cry. so he calls again, louder, with no answers but the slightest from the movie. he tries one last time, with a hand touching your shoulder, making you leave that weird trance you were in. jake ? you say as you wipe your tears. wha- what do you want ? you ask, failing to pretend that you are okay. he doesn't reply right away, coming to sit next to you. he opens his arm, a sign of an invitation not sure if you're okay with it or not, but still wanting to offer. you on the other hand were craving his touch, so you juts crawl on his lap, hand clenching on his hoodie, tears automatically coming back.

he lets you cry for a while, still trying to soothe you with hair strocks and shhh, even rocking you side to side but as he seems your tears don't fade away, his hands leaves your hair to hold gently the both side of your face, y/nie look at me please, he whisper. but as you can't even dare to look at him, a mix of shame and sadness filling your body, he'd just start kissing your tears. come on y/nie,as he keeps on pecking your face, i want to tell you something but i need you to look at me first, the long time per names finally coming back. you slowly turn your eyes to his, only to see adoration on his, speaking silently to you. i am so sorry of how i reacted this entire week. i was so shock when you told me you liked me, i genuinely saw you like my little sister, my long time bestfriend i've always had. i couldn't possibly imagine myself dating you. but i should have told you that instead of being a dumb ass. and then i felt so so ashame, i couldn't even face you in the kitchen. how i could i make the most important person in my life,so sad and, he stops, a hand coming to his hair, trying to find his words, i just couldn't bear it anymore. that time away from you made me realize that i in fact like you too y/nie. i cant live without you baby. who will i do my legos with ? or go home to, to have my hair played with ? or eat my not so good ramen whne i make them, he says between chuckles, making you laugh too. what i wanna say is that, i dont want any of those activites to be done with anyone else. i just want you y/n.

notes : hai anon, i've never written any fic before, n im not even gonna talk about the angst, i hope it feeds you well tho > < i actually didn't want to write it as i don't write anything fictional but i somehow liked ur request so here it is <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🍓୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ tag list : @dreamiestay @jakesprincess1

perm tag list : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @driedflowwr @hoonion . @enchive @enhablr

[simplydozing]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

Cardinal Copia x Reader She's finally here in all her glory. Copia is overwhelmed with emotion seeing his family finally coming together. Part 1 Word Count: 1142 || Ao3

ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ Ti ameró fino alla fine dei tempi = I'll love you until the ends of time (Poorly translated/Google translate)

Time flew since he’s come home, having only a few weeks left to spend with you until the baby was born.

 The minute he stepped foot through those heavy wooden doors, he was on a mission to find you. Which in turn was a fruitless effort. You were already waiting for him, all swollen and teary-eyed from just your thoughts about him making it back. His first thing he does is pull you in for a long-awaited passionate kiss. He’ll then bring his focus down and whisper to your bump how much he missed you both, and press multiple kisses.

  From then on, he did nothing but dote on you. He’d rarely leave your side, only doing so if there was a calling by the Clergy. Even then, he’d order a ghoul to take his place for the time being. It was always either the ghoulettes or Mountain. He took notes on who was the best to call on.

Did you know that Mountain imitates everything you do? When you sit, he sits in the same position you are. If you’re walking, he’s behind you with the same stride. You’re making something to eat? Cool, just let him grab the same stuff you have. He does all this to be as protective of you without being too overbearing.

 The ghoulettes, on the contrary, love to pamper you. With them, you’re always in for a spa day or some sort of general relaxation. They’ll make a space to be as comfy as possible for you. They’ll indulge in some of your hobbies from knitting to reading.

 Copia thanks whoever is with you and rewards them with all kinds of luxuries.

The nights were spent with you as close to him as you could be, wrapped in his arms. Sometimes, when he thought you were asleep, he'd scoot down and start talking to his daughter. There were countless conversations about how he would lay the world at her feet if he could. These were the times his mind would be at ease, pouring his heart out to her. He'd earn a flurry of kicks and movement in response. You could already tell she was going to be daddy's girl.

He spent everything to give you all the love you deserved, plus more.

Then, it was time.

 You spent hours working through intense pain to bring her here, with Copia at your side at all times. He was just as scared, but he did his best not to show it. He'd clench your hand about as hard as you did his. There was constant praise and encouragement, forever drilling in your mind how amazing and strong you are and how you were never more beautiful than you were in this moment.

 Any time you said “I can’t,” any time you cried out, he’d remind you of how far you’ve come.

Dawn turned to dusk, and you were so exhausted. But when the final stretch came and went with your little girl finally in your arms, you realized that you’d do it all again if it meant having her here with you both.

And Copia was so smitten. Seeing you holding her made him speechless. The sight before him was a renaissance that he couldn’t look away from. You were wrecked by your labor, but it was a magnificent scene to behold when you first held her, talking to her and calming her cries.

“Are you ready to hold her?”

He nods, closing his gaping mouth. He scoots closer, his movement is robotic. He holds his arms out.

 They’re shaky. Lucifer, he’s so nervous. He shouldn’t be, with all the things he’s done not only for her but for you. He’s waited so long for this, what if he messes up?

 Everything goes by in slow motion. You help position him to hold her properly. He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels a weight.

 And my god, isn’t it spectacular?

 He lets out a breathless gasp at the mere first glimpse of her.

 She’s here, with him, with you. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him since marrying you. She’s the most perfect thing he ever saw.

 He’s unaware of the tears streaming down his smudged face.

 She awakens, and is startled at the new face staring at her. She begins to wail, but he acts on instinct to quieten her once more.

“Shh, mia stellina. It’s your papa,” he ever so slightly rocks her.

“Don’t be scared.”

He brings a hand to caress her little face, and you could not believe how quick it was for her to settle.

“Yeah, you know me, don’t you? You recognize who I am?”

 She squeaks and nestles in the soft blanket that swaddled her. Her hand grasps his thumb, tiny fingers barely wrapping around it. This makes his heart nearly explode.

“She’s so small,” he hardly speaks above a whisper.

“She’s the spitting image of you. You saw her eyes, right?” 

 She has his eyes, the left being pale and pallid of color.

 You both marvel at her sleeping form. Everything about her derives from him, from her nose to her chin.

 You did say you wanted a mini version of him, and to see that your prayers were answered brought so much joy to your heart.

“Have you thought of names?” He asked with a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t found or thought of anything for her.

“I have, actually,” you hummed. You lean over to get another view of her face.

“I was thinking…. Cynthia?”

 He perks up at the speed of sound, locking eyes with you.

“A-After my…” he trails off, being on the verge of spilling.

“After your mother,” your hand places on top of his that’s holding her head.

“Cynthia Vittoria.”

“Cynthia… Vittoria,” he faintly echoes.

 He breaks his gaze from yours, looking back at her.

 It’s perfect, nothing better suits her.

 He kisses her on the nose, and touches foreheads with her.

”Ti ameró fino alla fine dei tempi.”

 Your eyes welled up again, treasuring this memory for eternity.

He looks at her with the same devotion he shows you. His state is more relaxed, looking as if he was made for this. And in a way, he was. 

You could stay and watch him babble to her for hours on end, but your work is catching up with you. Heavy eyelids struggle to stay open. You curl up against the infirmary pillow, keeping your family in your sight as you drift off.

Copia took advantage of this, and began singing to the both of you.

Life Eternal.

The same song he sang to you when you first started courting him.

And now, he was finally able to sing to his daughter, just like he said he would all those months ago.

[37sommz]

❁ : come le viole . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: smut. ✼. wc: 3.1k.

michaela's six years in italy pay off in her professional life. one area she didn't expect them to pay off is in her romantic life. in jenson's defense, anything michaela does gets him going.

✼. warnings: 18+ mdni, smut smut smut, jenson has a michaela speaking italian kink, unprotected sex, pretty tame but sweet regardless.

✼. notes: another filler chapter lol. don't think too hard about the date, it's completely arbitrary bc this is just a filler. i promise i have more actual plot, abu dhabi 2021 is next :)

000.⠀⠀OCTOBER 16, 2021    ›    Cagliari, Italy

Michaela leaned against the balcony railing, the Sardinian sun casting a warm glow over her taut, athletic frame. She squinted at the horizon, the sea a serene canvas of blues and greens that stretched to infinity. The salty breeze whispered through her hair, a gentle reminder of the world outside the sheltered bubble of the luxurious hotel room.

Her thoughts drifted to the race that had just concluded. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as she heard the distant roar of the crowd. The Extreme E circuit was a playground for champions, a place where Jenson could still indulge in his love for speed without the relentless pressure of Formula 1. The same pressure she faced every time she strapped into her own McLaren.

The door clicked open, and she spun around, her heart racing. Jenson strutted in, a boyish grin on his face and a sheen of adrenaline glistening on his skin. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, and the sight of him made her pulse quicken.

"You did well, JB," she said, using his nickname with a playful smirk.

Jenson closed the distance between them, his arms wrapping around her waist. "Thanks, darling," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wish you could've seen it in person. The track was insane."

Michaela smiled, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pulled her in closer. "I had a pretty good view from here," she said, gesturing to the TV behind her. "But I'll take your word for it. You looked like you were in your element."

Jenson chuckled, his gaze lingering on the oversized vintage Suzuka circuit shirt adorning her frame. "You know I can't resist a good race." His hands began to roam, gently caressing her hips, his thumbs brushing the waistband of her shorts as they dipped underneath the hem of her shirt. "But I missed you."

Michaela felt a flutter in her stomach as she met his eyes. "Missed me, or missed being in bed with me?" she teased, her voice low and eyes narrowed.

"Both, actually," Jenson confessed, his grin turning into a seductive smirk. "But right now, I'm thinking about the latter."

Michaela rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her own smile. "Have you eaten? We should order room service before you pass out from exhaustion."

"Mmm, I could go for a pasta," Jenson said, his voice a low purr as his hands continued to roam. "But I'd much rather have dessert first."

Michaela playfully slapped his hand away, laughing. "Let's at least order something to eat first. I waited for you to comeback before I ordered." She stepped back and picked up the phone, her fingers dancing over the buttons as she dialed the front desk. "Buonasera," she greeted in flawless Italian, the language rolling off her tongue like a native. "Possiamo avere il servizio in camera, per favore?"

Jenson rose from his spot on the bed, watching her with a smoldering look in his eyes. "God, you're so sexy when you speak Italian," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. He stalked over to her, his breath warm against her neck as he nibbled gently on her earlobe. His hands slid around her waist again.

Michaela giggled, trying to keep her focus on the order. "Jenson, behave," she chided, though her voice lacked conviction. The feeling of his body pressed against hers was making it increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Sì, questo è tutto. Addebitare alla camera, per favore. Grazie," she finished, hanging up the phone and turning to face him with a smirk. "Room service is on its way."

Jenson's gaze was unyielding, his eyes dark with want. "I don't care about room service," he murmured, his hands moving from her waist to cup her face. His thumbs traced her cheekbones, his eyes searching hers for any sign of protest. "Not when you're speaking Italian like that."

"I was just ordering food, Jense," she said with a playful laugh, though the heat in her voice betrayed her own growing arousal. She stepped closer, her hands sliding up his chest.

"But when you talk like that," Jenson whispered, his voice dropping an octave, "it's like you're speaking directly to my soul." His eyes searched hers, hunger plain in his gaze. "It's so intimate."

Michaela's laughter faded, replaced by a soft sigh as she leaned into his touch. "You're such a romantic," she said, her voice teasing. But she didn't move away.

Jenson leaned down, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His tongue danced with hers, a silent promise of the passion that awaited them. She melted into him, her arms winding around his neck as she responded with an eagerness that surprised even herself.

Michaela pulled away, breathless. "Room service will be here any minute," she murmured, though the protest was half-hearted at best.

"They can wait," Jenson said, his voice gruff with need. He scooped her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. She gasped as he carried her to the bed, laying her down with a tenderness that betrayed his urgency.

Their kisses grew more feverish, their bodies tangling together as if trying to become one. Jenson's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and line with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her, and she arched into him, her own hands running through the blonde hair she had grown so fond of.

Michaela's racing heart hammered against her ribcage as Jenson's hand slipped under her shirt, his calloused fingers brushing against her bare skin. She gasped into his mouth, the sensation sending a shiver down her spine. He broke the kiss, his eyes smoldering as he stared down at her. "Keep speaking Italian to me," he urged, his voice thick with desire.

Michaela's breath was hot against his skin as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear, her words a mix of English and Italian that only served to heighten his desire for her. He felt his own passion mirrored in her touch, her hands roaming over his chest and down to his waistband, eager to feel all of him.

With a groan, Jenson lifted himself off her, standing to remove the last of his clothes. He watched her eyes follow the trail of his muscles, the desire in them making him feel like the luckiest man alive. He joined her on the bed again, their bodies a tangle of limbs and passion. Michaela reached for him, her hand wrapping around his length. He sucked in a breath, his eyes closing as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. He felt the heat building, the tension in his body growing taut with every jerk of her wrist.

Her other hand found his chest, her nails digging in slightly as she guided him closer. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of him teasing her entrance as an impatient hand brushed her panties to the side. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the heady mix of love and lust threatening to overwhelm them both.

Michaela looked up at him, her eyes filled with a raw, unbridled need. "Jenson," she murmured, her voice a soft plea. He took one last moment to savor the sight of her before he pushed inside her, filling her completely.

Her gasp was music to his ears, her nails digging into his back as he began to move. The rhythm was slow at first, almost tender, as if they were both trying to savor every second. But as the passion grew, so did their desperation. Their movements grew more urgent, more frenzied, each thrust and moan echoing around the room like a symphony of desire.

Jenson watched her face, her eyes squeezed shut as she fought for control. He leaned down, capturing her mouth with his, their tongues tangling together as their bodies found a rhythm that spoke of love and need. The feel of her, tight and wet around him, was intoxicating, and he could feel his climax approaching.

Michaela's nails dug into his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Her breathy moans grew louder, and he knew she was ready for more. He picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more urgent as he felt her muscles begin to clench around him.

"So pretty," she hummed as she pulled his face away from the crook of her neck. Her thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw, feeling the stubble prickle against her skin. "Così, così carino." She repeated in Italian, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sensation of his mouth on hers.

Michaela felt the warmth spread through her core as Jenson's hand slid down to cup her breast, his thumb brushing her hardened nipple through the thin fabric of her bra. The sensation was electric, and she arched her back, pushing herself closer to him.

"Talk to me, honey," she whispered seductively against his mouth, her voice thick with need. "Tell me how good it feels."

"God, it feels amazing," he managed to gasp out, his voice strained with effort. "You're so wet for me, so tight." His words were punctuated with each thrust, his voice growing hoarser with every passing moment.

Michaela's eyes fluttered closed, a soft smile playing on her lips as she absorbed his words. She felt his muscles tensing beneath her, the veins in his arms standing out as he pushed himself deeper into her. "Don't hold back," she encouraged, her own voice breathless. "Take me, I'm all yours, baby."

"Yeah?" He whispered back, blue eyes burning into hers, his thumb now tracing her bottom lip.

She leaned into his touch, taking the finger into her mouth eagerly. Her brown eyes never left his blue eyes as she sucked gently, the sight making him growl with need.

Jenson couldn't resist anymore, he leaned down and kissed her again, deep and passionate. Their bodies moved in sync, the sound of skin on skin music to their ears. His hands roamed over her, feeling the heat of her body, memorizing every inch of her. He felt her arching into him, her legs tightening around his waist, her breathing growing more erratic.

One hand reached for the top of her headboard as the other reached down to grasp at her thigh, pulling it up to hook over his hip and spreading her wide open to him. The new angle sent Michaela's eyes rolling back as he pushed deep inside her, a moan escaping her mouth as she felt herself stretch around him.

"Good girl," Jenson praised, his voice a low growl. The new angle allowed him to hit her g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her. She couldn't help but whimper, her nails now scratching down his sides as the tension grew. "You take me so well. All the way in just like that."

Michaela's breath came in short gasps as she felt the beginnings of an intense orgasm building inside her. "Jense," she moaned, her eyes pleading for release. He knew she was close, and he wasn't far behind. His own orgasm was approaching like a freight train.

Jenson's grip tightened on her thigh as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into hers. The headboard thumped against the wall in a steady rhythm, muffled by the thick walls. He could feel her body tightening around him, and it was all he could do to hold on.

Michaela's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated with desire. She met Jenson's gaze, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she whispered, "Dai, amore, fottimi più forte," urging him on in Italian.

A feral growl rumbled in his throat as he complied, his hips driving into hers with a force that sent the bed rocking against the floor. The headboard thumped a wild beat that matched the pounding of their hearts, the only music in the room. The sound of their passion filled the air, a symphony of moans and gasps that grew louder with every stroke.

Michaela's eyes never left Jenson's as she felt the climax building within her, his every movement sending her closer to the edge. She could see the same need reflected in his gaze, his eyes dark with desire and determination to bring her to the brink.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, feeling the tension coil tighter within him.

Michaela's eyes rolled back, the pleasure reaching a crescendo as she felt Jenson's cock hit her in just the right spot. She knew she was close, so close she could almost taste it. "Need to come, Jenson," she begged, her voice a needy whine.

Jenson chuckled dryly, feeling her slip away deeper into the pleasure. "Say it nicely, love," he urged, his voice gruff with need. "Want to hear your pretty little mouth say it in Italian."

Michaela bit her lip, the challenge sparking something within her as she nodded. She met his eyes, her own smoldering with desire. "Per favore, lasciami venire, amore," she whispered, her voice thick with an accent that sent shivers down his spine.

Jenson's eyes flashed with pleasure, the Italian rolling off her tongue like a sweet, sweet promise. He felt the coil in his stomach tighten, his own orgasm close behind hers. "So fucking perfect, baby. You're so beautiful," he groaned, the words leaving his mouth almost involuntarily. He wanted to claim her, to show her how much she meant to him in every way possible.

"Fuck, baby, where do you want me?" he gritted out, his hips moving faster, his strokes deeper. She felt him swell inside her, the pressure building until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Anywhere, everywhere," she panted, her back arching off the bed. "Just don't stop, please." She practically begged, almost incoherent in the wave of her pleasure.

Jenson's eyes blazed with intensity, his thrusts becoming more powerful, his strokes more deliberate. He could feel her walls tightening around him, her breath hitching with every push. The sound of their bodies slapping together grew more frantic, the sweet sound of their passion heightening.

"Mouse," he murmured, his voice strained with effort. "I love how wet you are for me." His hand traveled down to her clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud as he watched her face contort with pleasure. "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

Michaela's breath hitched, her eyes locked on his as she nodded. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Yes, Jense, please."

He took that as his cue, his thumb moving faster against her clit, his strokes deep and demanding. The tension built until it was almost unbearable, until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back. "Now, love," he urged, feeling her body tighten around him. "Come for me."

Michaela's eyes widened as she felt the orgasm crash over her, waves of pleasure washing away every thought, every worry. She screamed out his name, her body shaking with the intensity of her release. Jenson groaned, feeling her tighten around him, his own orgasm following closely behind. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin as he emptied himself inside her.

With a sigh of satisfaction, Jenson rolled over, taking her with him so she lay sprawled on top of him, her head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart was a comforting rhythm beneath her ear. They lay there, basking in the afterglow, the scent of their lovemaking mingling with the faint aroma of the sea breeze that filtered through the open balcony doors.

"You're going to have to teach me Italian," Jenson murmured after a moment of contented silence, his voice rumbling through his chest and into her ear. "Everything sounds better when you say it."

Michaela chuckled, her breath still coming in pants. "I'd be happy to," she said, pressing a kiss to the warm skin of his chest. Perched on his chest, she felt his heart beating beneath her, the steady rhythm matching the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

They laid there for a few moments, the only sound in the room the rustling of the hotel curtains dancing in the breeze from the open balcony. The sun painted stripes across the floor, casting a warm glow over their entwined bodies.

"I love you, Michaela," Jenson murmured, his hands stroking her back lazily as he felt her body relax into his. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

Michaela lifted her head to look at him, her eyes soft with affection. "I love you too, Jense," she said, her voice a quiet whisper. "More than I ever thought I could love someone." She placed a gentle kiss on his lips before rolling off him and standing up, stretching her toned body. The room service cart rattled in the hallway, a discreet knock at the door interrupting their intimate moment.

"I'll get it," Jenson offered as he reached for a robe, his chiseled abs glistening with a sheen of sweat. Jenson tied the robe around his waist, his movements slow and languid. "You go freshen up. I don't think I'll be able to focus on eating if I hear you speak Italian again." He winked, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Michaela giggled and slipped into the bathroom, her cheeks flushed with pleasure and the aftermath of their passion. She glanced in the mirror as she tied her own robe together, her hair a wild mess around her face, and couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. As she washed up, she could still feel the echoes of Jenson's touch, the way his hands had roamed her body with such confidence and hunger.

When she emerged, Jenson had set up the room service on the small dining table. The sight of steaming plates of pasta and a bottle of wine brought a smile to her face. The wide, boyish smile that adorned his features drew a chuckle out of her.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," she teased, walking over to him and placing a kiss on his cheek.

Jenson shrugged playfully. "You bring it out in me, sweetheart," he said, his voice warm and affectionate.

Michaela took her seat, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she surveyed the feast he'd arranged. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of the ocean. They ate in contented silence, their eyes meeting frequently over their plates, the heat between them melting away into a calmer affection.

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 12 all chapters

- Lunch is a lovely affair in a quaint little trattoria that has been making world class dishes since the turn of the previous century. It seems like every inch of this city is steeped in history. The prices on the menu would blow your whole daily budget on one meal. But the scampi alla Veneziana is out of this world, and you force yourself to eat slowly, and not just inhale the perfectly prepared shrimp and noodles with a delicate lemon olive oil dressing.

John's friend, Julius, is a kind and utterly elegant older man who accepts your presence at the table with kingly grace. They speak in a mixture of Italian and English, the latter you think is for your benefit. John very generously includes you in the conversation, telling Signor Castellari that you are an artist, talking you up to what you feel is an exaggerated degree. Julius asks to see your work, and you let him flip through your new sketch book. Your drawings are a mixture of studies and whimsical travelogue, and it feels like you’re baring a piece of your soul, but he’s so gracious you feel you can’t say no. 

There is more than one sketch of Mr. Wick in those pages you did from memory with an aching heart, but the old man is kind enough not to call you out on it, or even draw John’s attention to it. You think if he did, you would simply crawl under the table and die of embarrassment.  

He exclaims over an ink and watercolor pencil plein air you did in Rome of a sunset over St. Peters with the Sant’Angelo bridge in the foreground, saying it reminds him of a special day when he was a much younger man. You offer to let him keep it, and he seems truly delighted. 

You watch with some surprise as John produces what looks like a razor-sharp knife from seemingly nowhere to carefully cut the page from your book. Julius accepts it like a precious treasure, and you are flattered to your toes.

Then John and Julius chat about older books, and Julius produces a very old looking volume, handing it over for the younger man’s perusal. As he runs his hands over the leather cover John’s eyes shine with an almost childish delight—its utterly adorable.

While they are gushing over the antique tome two intimidating men in dark suits approach the table, fixing John with a hard look. One of them has a gnarly scar bisecting his brow. They say something that sounds none too friendly. You catch the name d’Antonio—but John waves them off with a glare, insisting, “Sono ritrirato.”

You’re pretty sure that means I’m retired.

Julius watches the exchange with a sadness in his eyes you don’t understand.

Finally after some grumbling the tough men go away. John watches them with eyes sharp as a hawk’s, and something in the back of your brain titters a little warning. But you’re having too lovely of a time with Signor Castellari, so you ignore it.

When you part ways Julius kisses your cheeks and takes your hands in his. “Be good to him, bella,” he says with a glance to John. “No one I know deserves happiness more than him.” 

You don't want to contradict him about your actual relationship with John, so you just nod.

Later you ask, “Did you tell him we're...”

“No, but even if I told him we weren't, he wouldn't have believed me. Sorry. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable...”

“It's fine,” you say, not offended in the least.

It’s more than fine.

It's incredibly flattering, really, that he thought the two of you could be a match. You're fairly sure you look like an unsophisticated street urchin next to Mr. John Wick.

“Where would you like to go now?” John asks with a little smile, as though he knows you've been hopelessly turned around for the past two days. You’ve managed to find the big landmarks, like the Piazza San Marco and the Doge’s Palace. It’s the smaller sights that have escaped you.

“Let’s go for a walk,” you suggest, wanting to see the city, and knowing you will finally get to do it unmolested with the forbidding figure of John towering at your side.

You are standing on a bridge, watching gondolas go by, when he asks you, “If I told you I have a reservation at Casa Nova, would you have dinner with me?” 

You press your lips nervously. Lunch is one thing, you know, and dinner something else entirely. Two people alone together in an intimate setting, sharing a meal over candlelight with good wine...the thought sends a thrill to the tips of your fingers that’s so intense it’s almost painful.

 “I don't have anything to wear to a place like that,” you admit. You read about it in a Condé Nast magazine on the plane, and you’re pretty sure it has at least one Michelin star. “I'm backpacking. My dresses are literally all rolled up in a bundle.” 

He chuckles at that, a low sound that tugs at your abdomen. He leans a little closer on the railing, and not for the first time this day you just wish he would kiss you.

“What if...I took you shopping?”

You raise an eyebrow to that. “Are you trying to be my sugar daddy, Mr. Wick?” You mean it as a joke, but suddenly there is something electric in the air between you. John's initial embarrassment sharpens to something almost…predatory.

It catches your breath in your throat. 

“Do you want a sugar daddy, y/n?”

You laugh it off nervously, your heart skittering about in your chest. 

“Very funny.”

You have a feeling he wasn’t joking at all.

However, like a gentleman he lets you have the out, but doesn't drop the shopping offer. 

“Let's go to the Calle Larga,” he says, and out of pure curiosity you agree. 

John's idea of shopping is taking you to Gucci.

The impeccable store is filled with beautifully crafted but honestly kind of boring goods, arbitrarily priced at a thousand dollars or more a piece. John fits in perfectly with the smartly dressed clientele, but you? You feel so incredibly out of place amidst the filthy rich people in the shop, and when you look at the price tag on the only dress you vaguely like you think you might break out in hives.

“John...”

You don't recognize it just yet, but you call him John when you're agitated, and Mr. Wick when you're feeling playful. 

He senses the desperation in that one word, and he takes you by the hand, leading you outside. 

“I'm sorry...” you say, because you feel stupid, and not posh enough by half to pull off any of the clothes in that high-end boutique. You are a bonafide gremlin, compared to the unearthly creatures in there. You do not belong, and maybe you’re a coward, but a part of you wishes John would just let you go back to your own plans for the evening. A long solo walk, a cheap slice of pizza, inevitably get lost in the maze of streets and canals, draw a little or read some of your book, before returning to your hard, lumpy hostel bed alone, where you can’t make a fool of yourself.

“Don't be,” he says with an amused little smile that makes your tide of panic recede a little. “I like it that you know this stuff is bullshit,” he soothes you. 

“I just...it’s so out of my wheel house.” You could have paid nearly four months rent for what that dress had cost.

He nods. “It takes some getting used to,” he admits. “I certainly wasn't born into this.” 

You wonder if he’ll ever tell you about his earlier life, but sense this isn’t the time or place to press him.  

“I just don't want you to spend your hard-earned money on stupid things for me.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t work hard for my money…” he offers with a wan little smile. “But it would make me happy to spend it on you. If it would make you happy.” 

You look at him for a long time. He meets your gaze, not flinching. There’s something different about him here. He’s more…open with you, perhaps? It takes some getting used to. He’d never outright admitted his interest in you before, always circling around it, and you wonder what’s changed.

Maybe not even John Wick is immune to the romantic atmosphere of il bel paese.

“Why are you being so good to me?” 

“I like you, y/n. If you haven't noticed.” The corner of his mouth quirks at that. 

It makes you sigh. 

“I like you too, Mr. Wick.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat. 

“You can call me John.”

“But do you want me to call you John?” you tease.

He moves a fraction closer, looming over you, and for a heart stopping moment you think maybe now he might finally kiss you?

“Depends,” he admits, his voice gone a little rough, but he doesn't elaborate further.

You feel as though you have a live electric wire sparking under your skin.  

He steps back a little, and again you feel the loss of him like an ache over your heart. You continue to stroll down the street. You are not entirely sure how your hand ends up in his, only that it is there, and you are content. 

None of the high fashion shops really interest you, until you pass by the window of Dolce and Gabbana, and your feet involuntarily slow as you take in the maximalist riot of glitz and color on the mannequin. You've always admired their wildly bedazzled designs, flaming hearts and candy colored jewels with copious gold embroidered trim. Maybe you’re just a crow-brained peasant who’s impressed by shiny things, but they look so fun.

John smiles a little, as though he’s finally answered some question to himself about you. “Aha,” he says teasingly, and you sigh, restraining yourself from pressing your nose to the window like a child outside a candy store.

“Can we just…look?” 

You are trying to be reasonable. 

“We can.” 

As it turns out, you want one of everything in the store.

It's all so over the top, the designs are so artistic and ridiculous and unabashedly joyful, from bejeweled purses to crown-adorned headphones, loud floral dresses and majolica printed silk scarves, and you fight not to betray which pieces catch your eye because you're afraid John might buy them all.

He is drinking in your enjoyment, looking utterly pleased.

Even just the store itself is utterly breathtaking inside, crystal chandeliers, inlaid marble floors and stone pillars. Gilded crown moulding and inlaid wood trim. You could just sit and look at this place like it’s a museum, you reckon.

John is not looking at the building though. He watches you browse with eyes that miss nothing, and it makes you squirm a little. You feel so seen. You’re not sure you like it, like you’ve been caught in the act of enjoying something that you know is absurd.

You feel absolutely silly.

“Try something on,” he urges you. To be practical, you decide to try on a black lace dress. Just in case you might like it. And a pair of black platform wedges printed with crimson red roses…because you can actually walk in them, so it makes sense, you know...

When you exit the dressing room John's gaze darkens, his pupils blown wide with desire, and once again you sense that predatory edge in him. If you had any sense you might have been scared, or at least cautious—but all it does is give you the most exquisite chills, an aching sense of anticipation, and an excess of moisture pooled between your thighs.

“That one,” he confirms, and for the way he looks at you, like you are a bunny in the woods he'd like to eat up whole, the outrageous price of the ensemble seems like a bargain.

[nofingjustaninchident]

⛧° Cooking classes with Uncle Leo

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: leo valdez x fem!reader blurb

warnings: probably cursing, bad spanish, not proofread. ig that's it?? lmk!!

a/n: i didn't really like this, but i'm posting it anyways lol. dedicated to covey and @/pinkdiorluvr cuz i know they both love leo hehehe

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

You never learnt how to cook. A disturbed childhood with a shitty mortal dad was not the best place to get cooking lessons. Or to learn anything, on that matter.  

The point is, cooking skills aren’t something you possess, and that annoys you beyond limits. That took you to asking your best friend, Leo Valdez, for cooking classes. Which he immediately accepted. I mean, who wouldn’t want to teach your crush how to cook? 

"So, when can I go to your house?” You asked, which made him snap back to reality from just admiring your features.  

“Uh... my house?” He asked, as he completely forgot what you guys were previously chatting about. He was too busy with noticing how the freckles coated your cheeks, and how your black hair framed your face in the prettiest way possible. Oh, he was down bad.  

“Are you even listening to me right now, Leo?” You asked, waving your hand in front of his face. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘course I am. You were talking about the... cooking classes, right?” He asked, a sheepish smile making his way to his lips. You just rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, I am. When can I come to your house, hm?” You asked again. 

“Tomorrow at seven sounds good to you?” He asked. 

“Yeah, that’d be great.” You answer, smiling softly as well.  

“You’re gonna learn how to make the perfect pasta alla carbonara, my dear apprentice. It's one of my specialties.” He said, passing an arm across your shoulders and pulling you to him.  

Before you could even pull away so you could leave, he planted a kiss with a loud ‘mwah’ to it and darted off, laughing. You were left confused, blushing and smiling as a toddler who just got a pack of candy.  

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧ 

Leo stood in his kitchen, a grin plastered on his face as he waited for his best friend’s arrival. He was looking forward to it, since he knew that it was a chance of absolutely zero percent that this whole class didn’t end in absolute chaos.  

He leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers impatiently, trying to figure when you’d finally come, what clothes you’d be wearing, what shoes you’d wear and in which way your hair would be. Would it be down? Would you put it in a ponytail? A bun? A braid? 

Oh gods, he was such a sucker for that damned daughter of Poseidon.  

Eventually, he heard the rhythmic knock on the door, telling him that you were finally there, much to his happiness.  

“Come on, Valdez, it’s freezing out here!” You complained, just when he finally opened the door and you barged inside, escaping the snow from the outside world. You were in a black coat, wine-red leggings, gloves and a cute scarf so your nose didn’t get too cold. “Finally! Thought you’d leave me out there to die.” 

“I’d never do that, princesa. I mean, at least not today, I need an assistant.” He said jokingly, poking your shoulder and teasing you as you took your coat off.  

“I’m gonna punch you, I swear to all the gods that I know.” She threatened. He just smiled and walked towards the kitchen, with you following right behind him. “So, what’re you gonna teach me today?”  

“We’re gonna make the best pasta ever – carbonara!” He said happily as he pointed at the counter, which was filled with ingredients for the dish – bacon, eggs, flour and cheese were neatly organized in the counter, ready to be turned into a meal. 

“If this goes wrong, I'm ordering a happy meal.” You complained, putting the things you brought to make your favorite dessert, a classic that you learnt with a Brazilian friend of yours – Brigadeiro. It's actually the only thing that you can cook without burning down the whole house.  

“First, we gotta make the pasta.” The latino said, and you grimaced. 

“Why do we have to make it? Isn't it easier to just, you know, buy the pasta and cook it?”  

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s easier. But making it is so much fun!” He said, with a smile on his face, and started pouring flour on the counter, making a small tower and soon making a hole in it. Then he stopped and looked at you. 

“What? Is there something on my hair?” You asked, brushing off your hair, which made Leo laugh. 

“No, no. I need you to grab six eggs and crack them here.” He said, gesturing towards the bowl.  

“Oh.” You mumbled and picked up the bowl, cracking the eggs in it and being extra careful with the shell. When you finished, you looked at him with puppy eyes. “What now?”  

“Put them here.” He said, gesturing to the hole in the flour. You nodded and poured the eggs there. “Now, you washed your hands, right?” You nodded again. “Great. Now, you have to mix the eggs and the flour until we have a smooth dough; the pasta!” 

You just nodded and put your hands to work. It was cute, since you didn’t seem to know what you were doing, and it was just so cute the way you were unsure on whether you were doing the right thing or not.  

“You’re doing great, y/n/n.” He assured. If you looked up, you’d see a proud smile on his face. 

After a few minutes of squeezing and mixing the dough, it was finally ready. You looked up at Leo’s face, a proud smile on your face and shining eyes. Maybe cooking wasn’t really that bad, after all. Not if you had a good teacher and friend around. 

He was starstruck. He couldn’t even move. You were just so pretty, flour all over your arms and hands, a little spot on your cheek white from when you rubbed the back of your hand on your face. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you in that moment.  

But he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t do it. Couldn't risk his friendship with you.  

And yet you were so tempting, so pretty like that. In his kitchen, with his apron – which was slightly too big for your tiny frame – and with him.  

“So, what do we do now?” You asked, interrupting the trance he was in. He shook his head and blushed, embarrassed to be caught like that.  

“Uh... the- the eggs. We need to make the eggs.” He said, blushing after getting caught staring at you. “You can whisk the yolks while I cook the bacon. Is that alright with you?”  

“Mhm. You just need to teach me how to separate the yolks.” You said, with a smile.  

You two continued the cooking, with Leo cooking the bacons till they were golden brown and crispy while you whisked the egg yolks and the cheese together. It was a fun night, where you ate the food you made – which was delicious, by the way – and had fun with your best friend. 

The only out of the ordinary thing was that the whole time you were there, the only thing you wanted was to jump on Leo’s lap and kiss the hell out of him.  

And his train of thought was not that far away from yours. 

Don't get me wrong, he loved to spend platonic time with you, of course. But he really, really wanted to kiss you.  

‘Oh, for my father’s sake, what I wouldn’t give to kiss her.’  

“...what?” You asked, your face clearly redder with his – more than sudden – confession.  

You never thought he’d want to kiss you, much less give yourself the hope that maybe someday that’d happen. No, it was selfish, and you knew – or at least thought – that he’d never ever like his best friend.  

But here he was, saying how much he’d give in exchange for a kiss.  

“Oh, shit- I said that out loud, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Y/n, you can really pretend this never happened, I just-” AAAAAND he was rambling. Again. So, the easiest way out of that situation was, obviously, shut him up with a kiss.  

He immediately melted. His hands stopped flying around his face and went to graze your neck and waist, unsure, but ready to search.  

It was one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, and it was definitely the most awaited one. His lips were cracked and raspy, and he tasted sweet like the juice you had.  

When you finally pulled away, both of your cheeks were red and there was a smile playing on both of your lips.  

“I kinda love you.” You admited.  

“Good, ‘cause i love you too, princesa.” 

[communistkenobi]

sorry im at work scrolling your blog its 3 am this is incoherent and u may disregard but anyway ive not seen the acolyte but ur jedi post made me think... like jedi rly dont have a choice in being jedi right it literally isnt a choice. its not even for luke even tho he was an adult when the choice was offered to him bc obi wan kind of manipulated him into alla that like he wasnt offering any other choices. you can be a jedi just like your father (my master coerced your father into becoming a jedi but ignore that). its framed as the only choice. and its so annoying sw actually that they dont explore that maybe they do in the acolyte ive not seen it maybe i should manny jacinto seems to be in it. anyway. sw doesnt explore that the jedi actively supress there being any other choice for force sensitive kids, a way for them to remain with their families and loved ones and not become tools of the state... the church of the force stuff is so intetesting in r1 and its not rly expanded on bc chirrut and baze do seem to still be monks but maybe its a different vibe. theyre clearly allowed attachments maybe its a different philosophy that the jedi seem to have actively steered ppl away from. u have to think about the purpose of all of this as well bc the jedi are so highly militarized so u have to think it serves a political purpose as well as a religious one to tame them away from not only their families but their cultures bc this way theyre only loyal to the jedi and the jedi only answer to the senate! does this make sense. revelations of an addled mind. i think its less useful to think of the jedi as a cult and more useful to think of them as a military police who are based around religion (which is basically christianity im.not gonna get into how i think actual buddhism could be better explored in star wars)

no literally like star wars demonstrates that there are so many ways to use the force outside of the Jedi/Sith dichotomy but the Jedi are also like the ones who gained the most power and prominence throughout most of galactic history (iirc? I don’t know a lot of old republic canon). so like there is clearly something very effective in the way they build and maintain institutional and political power and that is almost certainly tied to the lack of choice that initiates are given when joining the Order. like you systematise recruitment by making it mandatory. it’s like a specialised state-sanctioned version of standardised education. which is coooooool it’s cool I love that shit so much like the debate about them being evil or not is so boring like idc it’s cool that there is this ancient order of force users who basically monopolised the way the force is used in most of the galaxy and this monopoly also led to their downfall when they became a formal military organ of the republic. that’s sooo fucking sick

[octuscle]

My family and i went to the airport to take our trip to Italy, but somehow my parents and sister seats were placed in tourist class while i got bussiness wich is weird because im just a 19 years old chubby guy that doesnt have a job. Now that im on my seat my belt is apparently stuck and i cant get up, and my skin somehow is dark than before, whats happening?

The stewardess asks you something. You don't understand a word. She repeats in English whether you have already taken a look at the menu and decided on a main course. With a heavy English accent, you say "Prendo il pesce per favore".

Flying in Business Class is great. You enjoy the service. And the food. And the choice of movies. First Dune and Kung Fu Panda. But then it gets boring. And you discover a few old Adriano Celentano classics. You don't even realize that you're watching them in the original… Without subtitles…

When you land in Rome, well-rested but a little rumpled, you think about what you've forgotten. There was something else… But you don't know what. Gianni hands you your coat and tells you that you've already been registered in the Arrival Lounge. You smile at him and ask if he's staying in Rome today. Gianni is one of your favorite flight attendants. In heaven. And in bed. Gianni apologizes. He's going back to New York today. "Peccato," you reply. "Ma si faccia sentire se mai avesse bisogno di un letto a Roma!" You grab your Fendi weekender. Your luggage will be delivered directly to the lounge. As usual.

"Signore, la sua camicia e la sua giacca sono appese stirate vicino alla porta". You love the service here on the ground. Amazingly efficient. Not like so much else here in Italy. Especially in Rome. But you're from Naples. You're used to something completely different. You open the door. Freshly showered and freshly coiffed. The lady from the ground staff is still at the door. You're not sure if she wanted a tip. Or a look at your six-pack. She gets both. You smile and thank her. And then you start your day.

È bello essere in viaggio. Ma l'unico posto al mondo dove si può vivere stabilmente è e rimane l'Italia!

[lemonerix]

lil scenario where Templar gets HRE'd (same body, different person headcanon) so he's now the Order of Christ (one of the successors of the KT), and doesn't remember anything b4 the disbandment of the Templars bc he's not Templar anymore (technically). 

Anyway, cue Veneziano and Prussia bonding/drinking themselves to shit bc of their childhood/first loves.

🇮🇹:"I see him, and I love him still, but I know it's not really him, and it hurts to see his face and know that he isn't the one I fell in love with all those years ago." *incoherent sobbing*

🐥:"Fuck, pass the bottle, Vene."

°°°

🐥:"It's just so unfair after not seeing him for so long, after mourning his death, and then he suddenly shows up with a new name and looks at me as if we've never met before. He used to look at me with so much love and I thought I'd never see him again, but seeing him regard me as just some other guy– Mein Gott, death would've been a more merciful option than whatever this is." *smashes bottle on the ground*

🇮🇹:"End our suffering. Dio mio, basta porre fine alla nostra sofferenza!" *wails and punches a wall*

tbh I like both the amnesiac hc and the same body, different person hc bc both are just filled with so much angst potential ✨

[sophswritingthings]

FIFTH PART CUZ I'M IN TRAFFIC AND JM ABOUT TO FUCKING LOSE IT.

Anyways after the reader helps Mizu and shows hospitality she wake up the next day and a random ruffian shows up to her home to rob her and of course Reader holds her weight and fights diligently but the guy she's up against is like Chiaki level strong and she fails to fight by herself.

But allas her knight in shining armor Mizu kills the guy (Specifically beheading him because why not). And after that cues a montage of Mizu and Reader hanging out together and falling in love. 😍😍😍

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): swearing

a/n: PART FIVE BABY HERE WE GO!!!!

summary: after taking in the strange samurai, you wake up the next morning to a man, pushing his way through your door. you hold your own, of course; but he’s too much. thankfully, you have a night in shining armor to protect you.

word count: 1,110 words / 5,890 characters 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were asleep, so calm, so serene. it was surprisingly you were so calm despite having a strange samurai in your house.

but he hadn’t given you a problem all night; hadn’t stirred, never even made noise. for a strange house guest, he was quite the respectful one.

that’s when you were jerked away; a loud pounding through your door.

you sprung out of bed, grabbing the small knife that was nestled under your pillow. you kept that there just in case anyone.. came for you.

you leapt to your feet. when you made your way out of your bedroom and into the main room, you spotted a man.

he was absolutely ten times your size, and a lot stronger, too. but you weren’t some prissy girl who was gonna back down from a fight.

you leapt at him, barreling him onto his side, you were making slashes down his sides, through his chest.

it didn’t immobilize him, but it sure slowed him down for the time being.

he rolled you over, pinning you to the ground. he raised a katana above your head, ready to stab clean through.

you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the impact. 

slice.

the man stopped moving, dropping the katana on the ground with a loud clank.

it felt beside your head, your breathing heavy as you watched his head fall from his neck and onto the ground. you were splattered with blood.

you wriggled from under his weight, your breathing still heavy as you looked up to see who it was. 

mizu. the samurai. of course it was him.

“has he hurt you?”

those were the only words she said, not even taking a minute to acknowledge she’d just cut a man's head off and splattered your house with his blood.

you didn’t answer, to lost in the moment.

she grabbed you by the shoulder.

“snap out of it,” she hissed. “has he hurt you?”

you shook your head ‘no’, gazing at mizu with wide eyes.

“you saved me,” you huffed. “why in hell did you save me? i threatened to kill you, just yesterday!”

“you didn’t, though. here I am, standing in your house, under your hospitality,” mizu narrowed her eyes. “the least I could do is not let you die.”

you nod a little.

“thank you,” you bow your head in respect. “thank you.”

she nods solemnly, bowing her head just as you did. she stood up, sheathing her sword back in its scabbard. 

“my house is drenched in blood now, though,” you gather yourself to your feet. your white flowers were now drenched in the blood of your pursuer. 

she sighs, “I will help you clean,” she chuckles a little. “it is my fault that your house smells of the rotten blood of this man.”

you laugh back, “thanks,” you murmur.

she takes off her hat and glasses, placing them to the side. by doing so, it revealed those ocean blue eyes. they matched his name, didn’t they?

you grabbed rags, passing one to mizu before you began to clean up the dirty blood of this man.

long before you knew it—it had been weeks since she had left.

you had serviced the samurai in your keep longer than you had expected to.

you learned of her. you learned of her quest; that she in fact was not a man. Instead, a woman, masking herself as a man to complete said quest.

and you were certainly catching feelings for her, woman or not. “demon” or not.

one day you had been cooking; making noodles for the two of you to sit down and eat. she had been out, collecting herbs for you—when she had stumbled in. she had the herbs; but she was also covered in blood.

you had gone into full panic. what in the world had she gotten herself into?

whatever, that didn’t matter.

you had patched her up; rubbing her face of blood gently with a warm rag.

that’s when your eyes locked for the first time; holding that gaze maybe longer than you should have.

you were pretty sure that’s when you first fell for her; looking into the beautiful blue eyes as you cleaned her bloody face.

and the time that she had been cooking with you, and you had accidentally spilled noddles all over her garment.

you had both thought it was absolutely hilarious; the warrior covered in the noddles, herbs and spices that her hostess had been cooking up for her.

and the other time she had found you crying late at night, nestled in your bed. you had been looking over old letters from your family; why you did that to yourself, causing yourself that pain, she didn’t know.

but she had comforted you through it regardless. rubbing your back and keeping you close as you cried, letting all those pent up emotions out.

and here she was; still staying with you, it had been two months now. 

you were both smitten for each other. but you'd die before you admitted it.

you were staring up at the sparkling sky, watching the constellations turn around the world.

you would keep glancing at her. she was more beautiful to you than any star the sky could offer you.

so badly did you want to tell her your feelings. but you had no idea if she would even reciprocate; but you really wanted to try.

maybe words wasn’t the way to go..

you gently slid your hand closer to hers, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you did so. your face was on fire.

your fingertips brushed hers, which finally got her attention. you were sitting on the small rattan stairs to your cabin, your legs gently touching. 

she glanced at you, her eyes wide as she did so. but she didn’t slide her hand away; if anything, she slid it closer.

you wrapped your fingers around hers, smiling softly. the warmth was nice. god, it was so nice.

she rubbed her thumb atop of your knuckles. 

she smiled. it was tender. it was warm; it was… loving. It was something you had never seen from the samurai in the months you had been with her.

you leant in, your breath shuddering as your lips inched closer to hers. though it was her who closed the gap, her hand gently rested on the back of your neck.

you let you lips linger on hers for a moment; the feeling was soft and warm, something you had never felt before. 

you pulled back, letting your forehead press against hers.

the start to a love; to a beautiful, blossoming love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[leclsrc]

Hi! I just found your blog and am in LOVE! Congrats on 2000 followers by the way! You deserve them all and more, I'm a new follower so you're over 2000 now hehe~ Could I please request the 'hugs from behind' prompt with Charles Leclerc? It sounds so cute! I hope you're doing okay. Congratulations again! 😘❤️❤️

olive you – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, olive theory drabble

auds here... finishing out my drafts from the 2k celebration... i have like 65 more i have to filter thru lol... love u guys

Waves crash softly against the pebbly shore, salt filling your nose as you twirl pasta onto your fork. There is something so enchanting about Italy, something so romantic and unbridled, that keeps you alive and happy whenever you visit. Perhaps it’s the food, the locals, the souvenir shops, the signs reading alla spiaggia right by the summery coast.

You chew on your fettuccine, and watch as a fork slowly deposits olive segments onto your plate. Perhaps, then, it’s none of those things. Perhaps it’s him. “Mmm. Grazie,” you hum gratefully, mixing the olives into your pasta.

Like many routines, this came to fruition with years of habit. On your first date, at an Italian place in Monte Carlo, you’d gushed about how much you liked to eat olives. Charles had done the complete opposite—he couldn’t stand them, he droned. Not in pasta, not in martinis, not anywhere. So it came to be that he would buy you jars of olives or give you the little bits he found on his plate.

It wasn’t a big deal to either of you at first, but your friends thought it was just about the cutest idea in the world, the pinnacle of the opposites attract concept, the perfect balance. And every time you get together they ask Charles if he likes olives, and each time, he kisses your hair and murmurs never.

He loves to kiss your hair, your legs. Nobody has ever come that close, you tell him every time. Only the air, only the water, only my spritzes of perfume. Nobody.

—

“Martini?” Carlos asks.

“Oh, I—” Charles smiles dopily, shaking his head. “Olives, I don’t like them.”

“Took a shot with the order. Sorry, mate.” They shake hands, wait for the meeting to start, make small talk about work and the off season. Being back at Fiorano always gives Charles a daunting kind of feeling, one that typically quells once he catches sight of you. Carlos pauses, takes a sip from his cold drink, then, “Are you sure you don’t like olives?”

Being a relatively new close friend means Carlos hasn’t yet been privy to the olive theory that’s spanned years and continents. Charles nods, opening his mouth to explain why, and why this fact matters so much, then—

“When we got a 1-2 in Bahrain last year,” his teammate starts, “and we all got drunk, Isa didn’t let me have alcohol because she didn’t want to drive me home.” He laughs. “Anyway, I saw you eating olives. You had a little toothpick thing, picking out olives from the aperitivo.”

Charles’ heart pounds. “Huh? Well… I guess I wouldn’t… mind them.”

“Eugh.” Carlos grimaces. “Olives are shit. Isa thinks so, too.”

—

You’re busy at the stove cooking a half-assed meal when he wrestles himself through the flat entrance, following the smell of garlic and approaching you instantly from behind. His hug is intense, his lips latched onto your neck. He inhales your scent, comforted by the traces of your perfume, his own scent lingering on his polo that hugs your body.

“Don’t be mad,” he says thinly, half-muffled.

“I told you don’t get a tattoo of my face across your arm.”

“It’s not that,” he says, resigned. He pouts, and you turn to comfort him, fluffing his hair up. A rogue strand falls in front of his face and when you lean closer to brush it away, he takes the chance to kiss you.

You smile while you kiss. Whaaat? You ask into his lips, amused by his silence and shyness. He still is quiet, lips just resting on yours. You pull away, a bit more worried now.

“Charles.” Your hands find purchase on his arms, shoulders, then his face in your grip. He holds your hands there.

“I…” He pauses. “I think I—I like olives.”

You relax, and the smile that arrives at your lips is purely involuntary. You can’t help it. “So we both like them,” you say simply, with a smile. “We’ll have to work out a system where you don’t steal all my jars from me.”

What your goof boyfriend fails to realize, you think as he bends over the stove and helps you finish off the pasta (extra olives, this time) is the olive theory has never mattered to you. It was never about the olives. It was never about the jars.

If love was about anything—it’d always, always be Charles.

[ppnuggiex]

hii <3 if possible, I would like headcanons about how they would be for vil , riddle and azul,being parents ^^ but their son came out as a rambunctious and very naughty hehe (as a plus, his mc also used to be like that so anyway his son reminds them of how his wife was when they met her, like mother like son xd) that would be all , tkmm have a nice day :))

　　　　　　TWST x fem reader

　　　　『　azul ,, riddle ,, vil ,, female reader    』

　　-> twst as parents w/ rambunctious child that acted like their mother

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, crack

　　— tysm for requesting !! hope you enjoy it 🫶 there is a reference to one of kevin hart’s stand up comedies in here ,, but i explained it at the end :) so even if you dont watch stand up or his ,, youll know what i mean !

- riddle

| • he'd have a hard time dealing with a rambunctious son . he's used to following the rules ,, and he has let off that a lot since getting together with you .

| • he'll be known more as the less fun parent ,, while you take that role . he'd be the one to make him wear a raincoat to go outside in the rain whilst you'd encourage him playing in the rain and puddles without one .

| • though he'd smile fondly at him ,, seeing as he definitely gets it from you . he would sometimes share stories about your past and how you acted at nrc .

| • it doesnt stop him from parenting his child the way he wants to in a way . he does take a firmer hand with it ,, but with your help he does it in a way thats not too harsh .

| • he still loves his kid though . sometimes he’ll let him get away with things ,, especially if hes just woken up .

- vil

| • he finds it infuriating some days ,, and funny the others . on the days he finds it infuriating ,, he usually lets you deal with him as he doesnt want to say something that’ll end up hurting his kid . other days ,, he’ll just laugh under his breathe before trying to point his kid in the right direction .

| • he definitely comments on how hes just like how you were though . then he goes down the memory lane ,, remembering everything you two did together at nrc . his heart warms at the memories ,, seeing you in your kid .

| • he isnt as strict as riddle ,, as he wants his child to be able to live his life without vil controlling it for him . you also play a factor into that ,, telling vil to let your son decide for himself how he wishes to live .

| • though sometimes vil cant help himself and fix his son’s clothes if theyre messed up ,, or poking and prodding at his hair to make it look nicer .

- azul

| • lord save his soul . having a rambunctious son is quite the handful for mr . ashengrotto ,, especially with how much he does have on his hands . juggling between running a restaurant chain and spending time with his family ,, he is quite the busy man .

| • usually when he comes home hes quite exhausted ,, ready to relax for a moment’s time before having to look through paperwork .

| • and then you have a rambunctious son to deal with . he’ll be honest ,, he almost pulled a kevin hart move (if ykyk 💀💀 ill explain later) and went right back to his work .

| • on his days off he enjoys spending time with his son ,, he doesnt have a problem but sometimes he can be a little too rowdy and then you’ll have to come in and help wrangle the both of them . honestly you should make azul pay you to do alla this /j .

| • azul loves his son though . and if he happens to inherit his mer traits ,, he’ll struggle even more to try to parent him underwater .

* in one of kevin hart’s stand up comedies ,, he says how after coming home to a day of hard work and men have toddlers waiting for them at home ,, they’ll see them when they pull in the drive way and pull right back out and drive away .

[nyxnightshade7656]

Hooked Pt6

And here we are, a little more spice, but still not the full pantry!

“Tu viens de faire de moi un homme heureux, Chère.” He breathed the words against her, lips almost brushing as they formed the words. Then, before she could so much as take in a breath, he pressed his lips against hers. The touch was gentle, testing the waters. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears, the pulse of it pounding in her neck so hard that the skin there was jumping with it. But more than that, her control over her power vanished.

All her emotions filled the air, dancing between them like a fairy dancing on stars. Gambit smiled against her lips. He went from feeling his own joy and desire, to feeling disbelief, joy, surprise, want, desire, hope and something like need. He pulled back just enough to press more words against her lips, “Dat all fer me, Mon cœur?” His words were like a cross between a growl and a purr, “You feel dis much alla time? No wonder ya hide ‘way so much.” She could feel the shape of each word as he spoke, pressing them into her lips as if he were sharing a secret with her. She wanted to respond, she wanted to tell him everything she felt and why. But the terror of hurting him, charming him or influencing him in any way was nearly crippling. So instead, she leaned her head that scant inch closer to press her lips against his. Unfortunately, she didn’t factor in that she had no idea what she was doing. His kiss had been her first kiss ever.

Gambit hummed against her lips, gently guiding her into a more comfortable kiss. He moved his hand, the one not pressed to the wall, to the back of her neck and carefully tilted her head so that he could better slot their lips together. He kept it light, easy and fairly innocent. She could tell by his emotions that he was enjoying himself, but there was an undercurrent of worry, almost as if he was worried about her. But why, she couldn’t say. He pulled away, a little further this time, but he never broke eye contact, “Ne me dis pas. Don’ ya tell Remy. Dis yer firs’ kiss?” Instantly, the worry made sense. She bit her lip, then just nodded.

“Belle, Remy woulda made dis lot more romantic for ya, had ‘e known.” Remorse tasted like metal and salt on her tongue. She shook her head and fumbled for her phone, typing with one hand, “No. Don’t do that. Yes, it was my first kiss. But I’m glad it was you. Glad it was like this.” She took a deep breath and carefully, slowly, lowered some of her restraint on her power. She filtered a small portion of her emotions to him. She let him feel her joy, her excitement, her want for more, and her care, her love, and her desire for him. His eyes widened, the red nearly glowing with the influx of emotions that weren’t his own.

“Oh, Mon cœur. Dat dang’rous. Lettin’ me feel all o’dat. Tellin’ me dat. Ya make me wanna keep ya, Belle, all to m’self. Ya look good like dis, in m’space, like ya ‘long here. Makin’ me t’ink dang’rous tings, Chère, all da t’ings I wanna show ya, teach ya.” She could feel how her words, typed and translated by her phone as they might have been, affected him. Male Pride, spicy and rich like the gumbo he loved to cook; joy, sweet and bright, there was affection and desire, like cotton candy and caramel on her tongue. His hand, that had been on the back of her neck, moved down to her shoulders, lightly squeezed, then moved down.

Gambit gripped her hip, his touch firm but not bruising, before he carefully maneuvered them until he could; with one hand, hoist her up. He pinned her to the wall fully now, his hand that had been on her hip now moved one of her legs up and around his hips. Instinctively, she moved her other leg to imitate the first, for better leverage. Like this, she was eyelevel with him. The ease with which he had lifted her, with one hand, had her heart pounding all over again. It made her feel small, tiny, like something weightless and fragile in his hold. But the look in his eye made her feel powerful, ethereal. Like she was something beautiful and to be desired. Something she had never felt about herself before. She bit her lip, only to have him pull her lip from her teeth with his thumb, “Non, non’a dat now.”

She felt like the air was molasses in her lungs, like she couldn’t get enough. Everything felt electric. He leaned forward slowly, giving her a chance to stop him, but when she made no move to do so, he pressed small, fleeting butterfly kisses to her cheek, down her jaw, then down her throat. There was a burst of emotions from her, her normally iron-clad control gone three sheets to the wind under the torrent of his of his affection. Gambit wore down her control like no one and nothing else ever had. It was terrifying, yet freeing all at once. Control was her safe haven, it kept herself and others safe. But Gambit made her want to let go, to let him take control. She felt like she could trust him to take that control and still keep her safe. Unfortunately for her, Gambit felt every last bit of that desire to hand over control. He smiled against the spot where her neck met her shoulder, “Ya testin’ my ‘straint, Princesse.” He pressed the words into her skin, like a secret to be shared just between them.

The movement against her skin, she was just in a tank top so most of her shoulders were exposed, had a whimper escaping her before she could stop herself. She tensed, entire body going taught. Any sound that used her vocal cords triggered her Siren’s Song, and she was terrified that she would somehow charm Gambit. Gambit, however, merely let out a pleased hum against her skin, “Was dat a sound Remy heard? T’ink I could get some more outta ya?” He asked, playful, but judging by the feel of his emotions he was also serious. Pride, desire, want. She bit her lip and shook her head, her hair all but flying around them both with the motion. Gambit hummed again, “Too bad. Maybe one day.” He lifted his head to press another kiss to her lips. She happily kissed back, she had never imagined kissing being all that good, but he was proving her very wrong very quickly. She carefully, shyly, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing herself as flush against his chest as she could.

It took several kisses, but slowly, she started to figure out how to move her own lips against his so that she was kissing him back. Gambit pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers, “Hooo, Chère. Remy don’ t’ink he gonna survive you knowin’ how ta kiss proper.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, “Much as Remy would love to show ya more, you too important to rush anythin’.” She gave him a shy smile, her joy and thankfulness permeating the air around them. Just then, Oliver leapt off of the dresser and landed half on Remy’s shoulder and half into the cradle of her arms. A startled gasp of air escaped her, while Remy threw his head back and laughed out loud, “Looks like Oliver got tired of our embrasser. T’ink he’s jealous?” He teased. She looked at Oliver, who was staring right at her, unblinking. She carefully focused on his emotions; pleased, happy, protective. But no jealousy. She glanced at Gambit and ‘passed’ Oliver’s emotions to Gambit. He raised an eyebrow, “Dat’s a neat trick, Chère. Lettin’ Remy feel Oliver’s emotions without dem takin’ ova’ ‘is own. You real impressive, ya know dat?”

Gambit carefully, gently, lowered her back to the floor, but he never let her go. Oliver was happily purring away in her arms as Remy led her over to a couch in the room. There he settled them both down. He grabbed her and drew her into his arms, then kicked his feet up onto the couch and had her settle in the ‘v’ of his legs with her back to his chest, “We gon’ jus’ cuddle here, Chère. Dat was a hell’ov’a mission, and Remy jus’ wanna rest and hol’ ya now dat ‘e can, long as you okay wit’ it.” She flushed, but nodded, drawing her legs up to better cradle Oliver, and then Lucifer and Figaro joined Oliver in her lap. She smiled, and Gambit reached around her to scratch each of the cats on the head, “Dey got good taste, Chère. Ya sof’ an’ cute.” He sounded tired, and his emotions backed up that idea. But even so, he felt light, happy. She leaned her head back against his chest, eyes falling closed as the sound of his heartbeat grounded and soothed her.

[synthbug]

JUST WATCHED THE SPIDERVERSE TRAILER AND I WAS YELLING SCREAMING IN REAL LIFE AT IT THE WAY IT KEPT SURPRISING ME!!

First off LOOK HOW PRETTY!! the backgrounds and style do not miss!! The little details and colours in the city background plus like when miles webs his money to the guy thats pretty cute,, they feel v goofy and human ^_^ i alr love the energy of this film

BUT THEN!!

WHAT IN THE.. THIS IS SO MUCH MORE THAN I COULDA ASKED FOR !! look at alla them !! So many references and fun eastereggs will be here ^_^ also bombastic bagman and steampunk spidey teehee ^_^ hiii

PS4 SPIDEY MY LIL GUYY!!!!!! I hope he shows up more and is a friend :]

ALSO PETER B !! SO GOOD TO SEE U AGAIN!

THEIR TAKE ON JESSICA DREW... SHES SO PRETTY AND SHE HAS A MOTORCYCLE?? BY GODS !

And the way they animated Miguel's claws... by god !! Love it !

NOW WHAT DID THEY MEAN BY "WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE GOOD GUYS" AND THAT SHOT OF ALL OF THE SPIDERS GOING AFTER THEM WHAT HAPPENS !!! I'm SO EXCITED FOR THIS MOVIE !! and I can't wait to see which other spiders appear !! Hope to see some references to superior but miguel is so cool I will get my fill on the super cool way they animate him :]