#not either of the two popular ones though so you two simmer down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brian-in-finance · 2 years ago

Text

Killing Our Darlings: A Fandom Expert on Why We Urgently Need to Get to Grips With the Hate Engine

With two of the pop star’s ﬁlms on the horizon, we appointed a Senior Harry Styles Correspondent. Several exhausting months later, Sacha Judd concludes it’s time for Hollywood to get to grips with online conspiracies—and audiences to ﬁnd new ways to approach ﬁlms soaked in manufactured scandal.

Don’t Worry Darling, Letterboxd’s most anticipated film of 2022, finally came to cinemas last week, claiming the US Box office number one slot and topping this platform’s most popular rankings by the end of opening weekend. Anyone buying a ticket for the debut public screenings was inevitably either doing it because or in spite of the drama surrounding the film’s release.

I was definitely in the latter camp, going with two friends I met at Harry Styles’ first solo show in New York in 2017 and have been fandom besties with ever since—because what else do you do when you’re reunited with your fellow Harries after three long pandemic years than park up in recliners at Alamo Drafthouse to watch him in his first starring role?

Styles, famous in fandom for his rambling interview answers, was mocked relentlessly by Film Twitter for saying that Don’t Worry Darling was a movie that “felt like a movie”, and though it’s not at all what he meant, once you’ve seen a film soaked in so much manufactured scandal it’s hard to not reach the conclusion that it’s just a movie.

Florence Pugh and Harry Styles as Alice and Jack Chambers in Don’t Worry Darling.

Visually, it’s absolutely stunning to look at, with an incredible performance by Florence Pugh in the lead. It’s also so refreshing to watch something that isn’t yet another piece of franchise IP, or yet another prequel, reboot or sequel. But ultimately it’s just a film—there’s absolutely nothing about it that warrants the space it’s taken up in the discourse and no way to get back the brain cells wasted on all that spilled tea. How does anyone even watch a film critically (or uncritically) when there’s so much noise surrounding it?

It was a question that loomed large earlier this month at the Toronto International Film Festival. I was there in my newly-minted role as Letterboxd’s Senior Harry Styles Correspondent—a joke that became decreasingly funny as the hot takes and breathless explainers spilled over from Venice across every conceivable media outlet. There to promote his other new movie, My Policeman, you got the sense that Styles’ appearance was being tightly controlled. Questions for the press conference had to be submitted in advance, before anyone had even seen the film. On the red carpet, the stars didn’t speak to the media at all.

“What was it like??” my friends and fellow fans asked me. He’d sat across from me, after all, mere meters away. But the photos on Tumblr were clearer than the ones I snapped, the video from the Twitter livestream just as good. There really isn’t any insider access granted by a press pass when the fans are having the same or better experience, at the same time—ready to publish their own critiques before you even get out of the theater.

Emma Corrin, David Dawson and Harry Styles at the TIFF premiere of My Policeman.

Asked at Venice about the tabloid speculation surrounding Don’t Worry Darling, director Olivia Wilde said, “the internet feeds itself, I don’t feel the need to contribute, I think it’s sufficiently well-nourished.” There’s certainly been no better recent example of fandom, celebrity gossip, and film discourse combining into an ugly ‘well-nourished’ ouroboros than what’s unfolded over the last few months surrounding this particular movie.

You could look anywhere and find headlines promising the “truth about the drama”, memes, and endless TikTok unpackings. One friend even sent me a Powerpoint presentation someone had shared in her book club. The hot takes eventually simmered down to reflections about how enjoyable it all was, post-pandemic, to engage in “harmless” celebrity gossip again.

Harmless, reputationally, for Styles, who I watched quip about spitting on Chris Pine the following night at his show during a sold-out residency at Madison Square Garden. Harmless for Pugh, certainly—who became the internet’s “queen of quiet quitting”. Harmless for Pine, memed endlessly for his dissociating stare. Beneficial, even, for Shia LaBeouf—now cast in a Coppola film as part of an ongoing redemption tour. But for Wilde—one of a tiny handful of female directors to be greenlit on a second project—none of this seemed very harmless at all.

Director and actress Olivia Wilde on the red carpet at the 2022 Venice International Film Festival.

In watching all of this unfold, all I could think was that we are overdue a reckoning with the way the online environment is allowing misinformation, conspiracy theories, and outright falsehoods to be increasingly weaponized against women in cinema. And the Hollywood engine is beyond overdue in getting to grips with fandoms and the power they wield, even after over a decade of toxic hate and harassment being leveled at artists of color, widespread blowback over casting choices, and the inability of studios to protect their stars.

While a number of commentators rightly identified the misogynistic tilt to this whole affair, the rapid cycle of takes overlooked one crucial point. All of this happened to Olivia Wilde simply because she’s dating Harry Styles.

It helps to go back to the beginning and understand how we found ourselves in this particular mess. The rumors about the Don’t Worry Darling set didn’t start with TMZ or Page Six. They didn’t even start with the earlier gossip blinds shared on anonymous Instagram account DeuxMoi. They started on Tumblr and they started in the One Direction fandom.

To grasp what’s happened to Olivia Wilde online, you have to grapple not just with what may or may not have happened on set. She and Pugh may have fallen out for any number of completely justified reasons and it would never have resulted in the kind of digital hyena-pack that’s waited to consume Wilde at every turn. We would likely never have heard about it at all, if it weren’t for a dedicated subset of Styles’ fans.

Styles meets fans in Toronto ahead of the premiere of My Policeman.

Hating Olivia Wilde is an example of the depressingly common venom leveled at the romantic partner of a star with whom stans have a parasocial relationship. Styles has been notoriously private about his personal life, saying in interviews that regaining his privacy was paramount to him after five years of intense scrutiny as a member of the world’s most famous boyband.

And yet, all of the women with whom he’s been linked over the years have been subject to the same outrageous levels of hateful conduct and harassment. Styles, speaking to Rolling Stone last month alluded to this, saying “Can you imagine going on a second date with someone and being like, ‘OK, there’s this corner of the thing, and they’re going to say this, and it’s going to be really crazy, and they’re going to be really mean, and it’s not real.… But anyway, what do you want to eat?’ ”

These so-called fans are happy to dig through years of social media posts to find ways in which a romantic partner has been “problematic”, dismissing French model Camille Rowe for “supporting serial killers” (she dressed as Sharon Tate for Hallowe’en) and British chef Tess Ward for being fatphobic. In the eighteen months or so that Wilde and Styles have been seen together, Wilde has come under an even more intense array of criticism. The ten-year age gap between her and Styles makes her “predatory”. Her shared custody of her children with former partner Jason Sudeikis has been interpreted to mean she is a bad mother who routinely abandons her kids. She is “unprofessional” for embarking on a relationship with someone she met on set.

For the fans spreading these talking points, finding reasons to justify their toxic behavior is critical—that way they can deny that this is a case of, “if I can’t have him, no one can”. It’s not that they don’t want Harry to find love, it’s just that this woman (and the one before her and the one before that) is obviously completely unsuitable.

“But anyway, what do you want to eat?”

For Styles though, the problem is exacerbated by a core group of conspiracy theorists who have plagued his fandom since One Direction was first formed. Calling themselves Larries (after the portmanteau Larry Stylinson), these fans believe that Styles has been in a closeted gay relationship with former bandmate Louis Tomlinson for over a decade. No amount of denials from either man (or any number of people close to the pair) have dissuaded this group, nor the fact that Tomlinson is in a long-term relationship with a woman, nor that he has a son, nor even that Styles and Tomlinson haven’t been seen in the same room for over six years.

All of this nonsense seems “harmless” on the surface—just another example of toxic behavior in niche corners of the internet providing hilarious fodder for the group chat. And yet film and television stars are increasingly dealing with baseless conspiracy thinking taking on an ugly and outsized importance. Benedict Cumberbatch’s wife, director Sophie Hunter, is regularly accused of faking her pregnancies, being a drug user, and worse. Outlander star Catríona Balfe has spoken out about conspiracists (who think she is secretly dating her co-star) casting doubt on the paternity of her son, and even harassing staff at the church where she wed in an attempt to prove her marriage was a sham.

Harry’s own mother Anne, sharing a proud Instagram post this week praising the film and Olivia’s achievement, was so drowned in hateful comments that she posted a follow-up in her stories. “If you can’t say something nice,” she said, “don’t say anything at all. I’m astounded and saddened by the vitriolic comments… If you don’t like me, don’t follow me”.

“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places.”

This behaviour by “tinhats” (as they’re known in fandom—a term first coined to describe fans of The Lord of the Rings who were convinced cast members were in secret gay relationships, unable to declare their forbidden love) has at its core the idea that everything is a stunt constructed for media consumption. Every paparazzi shot is staged; every time we see a star in a public place it’s “for promo”.

If you genuinely believe Harry Styles is gay and not allowed to come out, then every time you see a picture of him with a woman, you can assume it’s fake, that the woman concerned is being paid or getting something out of it for herself and thereby “profiting” off his closet. If it’s a stunt there’s no obligation to like this woman—in fact the opposite. You’re justified in thinking of her as a villain and behaving accordingly, as viciously as possible, something Alice Marwick has dubbed morally motivated networked harassment. Regardless of who gets hurt in the process.

On Tumblr, Larries tag their posts with an increasingly hateful taxonomy: “Don’t Watch DWD”, “Olivia Wilde is a Narcissistic Asshole”, “Fuck You Olivia Wilde”. Meanwhile, these same fans are keen to promote My Policeman at every opportunity because it’s deeply unthreatening to their false narrative. Styles’ co-star is Emma Corrin, with whom he has never been romantically linked. Styles himself is playing a closeted gay man, something they think is true in real life. “Michael Grandage seems like such a professional and competent director,” they say, as if the implications were not obvious.

Olivia Wilde at work with colleague Chris Pine.

Maintaining their ongoing hate campaign against Wilde puts stans in what should be some awkward spots, given the demographics of Styles’ fandom (female, progressive, queer). They side with Wilde’s former partner Sudeikis in their split, revelling in Wilde being served papers relating to custody on stage at CinemaCon, despite it being a cruel and humiliating tactic deployed against a woman in a professional setting. While they won’t come right out and say that LaBeouf is a hero, the glee with which his side of the story was received was a sight to behold. Even aligning yourself with alleged abusers is okay if it’s against a woman who isn’t what you want her to be.

Worse still, Media Matters found that right wing sites exploited the situation, amplifying the hateful content and using terms like “commie whore,” “Hollywood harlot,” and “bimbo” to describe Wilde, “eager for the downfall of women who are outspoken on progressive issues” (and for the income that clicks on these stories generate).

If all of this seems familiar, it should. We are only months from an unrelenting news cycle that painted Amber Heard as an unsuitable victim, reduced her defamation trial to popcorn emoji and endless memes, and cast anyone with a TikTok account in the role of expert commentator.

And none of this might matter, if the pernicious behavior of these conspiracists stayed in the pettiest corners of the internet, but in this case it broke containment, bubbling up through the gossip blogs and tabloids, repeated over and over until lies ossified into “facts” that even the trades were credulously republishing seemingly without any scrutiny at all.

People close to the Don’t Worry Darling project describe it as “famously untroubled”. The cinematographer Matthew Libatique has described it as “one of the most harmonious sets” he’s worked on. Forty members of the crew put their names to a statement saying all the stories were false. But it’s too late. The truth is boring: far better to green screen some cast photos behind you on TikTok and boldly state that Gemma Chan was pressed into service by forces unknown to keep Wilde away from Styles on the Venice red carpet.

Don’t Worry Darling cast members Nick Kroll, Pugh, Pine, Wilde, Sydney Chandler, Styles and Gemma Chan in Venice.

Even in writing this piece, I don’t get the luxury of just writing about the film (which, for the record, I enjoyed)—or about Styles’ performance, or Wilde’s directorial vision. No one does, anymore. Every review is forced to reference the ugliness and give further column inches to the opinions of people who genuinely don’t deserve them. I’ve chosen not to rate the film on my own Letterboxd because I know stans have been trying to identify my account.

I’ve been lucky enough to watch Harry Styles perform over the years at venues all over the world, including the Garden, Radio City Music Hall, the O2 and the Hammersmith Apollo. At every single show he encourages his audience to “feel free to be whoever you want to be in this room tonight.” The crowd always goes wild. It’s an invitation to participate in something so filled with joy and abandon. To dance and sing your lungs out and watch your fave do the same.

His exhortation to “treat people with kindness”, however, seems to fall on deaf ears when some of his stans are back behind their keyboards again, filing half-star reviews on Letterboxd before the film has even come out. It’s depressing to see a film-reviewing community being used in this way. Letterboxd HQ confirmed to me that Don’t Worry Darling has been one of their most heavily moderated films this year: online reviews yet another cudgel deployed against women in cinema, again and again.

It’s easy to enjoy Florence Pugh iconically wielding her Aperol Spritz, Chris Pine drifting drama-free above the fray, and ultimately Olivia Wilde is successful and seems unbothered and doesn’t exactly need our help. But if we let ourselves continue to be led around by conspiracists with axes to grind, we’re allowing a set of tactics to flourish that will continue to have dangerous consequences, something I’ve spent more time than I’d like to digging into over the last few years.

“Do you even know what the Victory Project actually is?”

Already the post-opening reviews of Don’t Worry Darling are making sly—or even overt—reference to the fact that the scandal may have helped the film, giving fans and the media alike fuel for future fires. Indeed, the distribution chief for Warner Bros suggests that “the background noise had a neutral impact” (financially, he means). But conspiracy thinking isn’t fun or neutral or harmless anymore. Believing everything you see to be constructed or manipulated is a dangerous onramp to far more significant political movements—something, ironically, that is explicitly raised in the film.

Celebrity gossip can—and should continue to be—a delightful, empty-calorie snack. But only when we take the time to think about where it’s come from, why it’s so popular, and if there isn’t a toxic amount of poison hidden inside. When the industry is still stacked so heavily against the very small number of women who have risen to the point Wilde has—her film taking in an above-forecast $19.2 million at the US box office opening weekend, and becoming one of the widest openings by a female director ever in the UK and Ireland—we should be interrogating much more closely the motivations of the people who seem ready, willing and eager to tear her down.

‘Don’t Worry Darling’ is in cinemas in the US, UK and Ireland now and opening in other regions over the coming weeks. ‘My Policeman’ opens in US cinemas on October 21 and streams on Prime Video from November 4.

Note: All bold text and pull-quote styling is Brian’s.

Letterboxd

Remember… it’s sad, because you meet the loveliest people who are fans of the show and they’re super supportive and they do the nicest things—and then you have that little thing, which just taints it. — Caitríona Balfe, Vanity Fair, 6 January 2022

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Online #Fandom #Conspiracies #Tinhats #Letterboxd #28 September 2022 #Twitter

42 notes · View notes

quindolyn · 3 years ago

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

taglist: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @thatvenusbabe @zzzfour @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb @marauderswhore07 @st0nesnglitter @priii @miraclesoflove @shadesofvelma @drachoesimp @artemis1orion @skaratjung @ava-brooke-blog1 @fairyprettygirly @ohwowimlonley @padfootswife @roonilwazlibswhore @swearingsolemnly @teenwolfbitches28 @lilypad-55449 @jamespotterslover @wh0reforthemarauders @myalupinblack @ashesandstars @daisyyy2516 @remugoodgirl @itzstacie @planet-wolfstar @steveharringtonswhore @saintlike78 @i-love-scott-mccall @thatdummymarie @trashyvicks @sprucewoodlover @slut4drvc0 @pagesbetweensheets @locnylupin @mjoubertt-1@blowing-mikey @slvt4fakerealities @kaqua @pottahishotasf

#Harry Potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #Harry Potter imagine #Harry Potter imagines #marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black fanfic #regulus black imagines #regulus black imagine #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x y/n #regulus black smut

745 notes · View notes

harrowscore · 2 years ago

Text

sooooo, yesterday i watched hotd s1 finale. here are my (semi-coherent) thoughts:

i've had one (1) day to simmer down my instinctive "wtf??" reaction and ponder on some writing choices - actually, two notable writing choices. first, this is no got s8 levels of disaster, but i'd already noticed a couple of red flags in ep9 and so i was - i am - guarded, though my emotional investment is nowhere near as high as my peak asoiaf/got era. i'm way more detached, and if i came off as pissed in some prev posts it was more of a general 🤷🤷 feeling concerning old disappointments in correlated or different media. (having said that, the larys/alicent feet thing is atrocious.)

i see they're still going strong with the childbirth from hell saga - i've already written about it in an older post, and i quite liked it, however gory and heartbreaking it was.

i don't buy the daemyra choking (not in a kinky way) scene. there's nowhere near enough build up for that. yes, daemon killed his first wife (which btw wasn't in the book) but they hated each other and she wasn't a targ. from d. pov's that's quite an important detail. (not that i’m excusing it, you know.) i don't even buy that "he's grieving that's why he acts (more) irrationally and with 0 impulse control (than usual)" because while he's ready for war and legitimately angry at the thought of his brother being murdered (tho viserys had been rotting away for years, last time they saw each other he could barely stand/talk, it was only a matter of weeks, maybe a couple of months at best before he died, they should have been prepared for this & the greens response) he doesn't act that out of control. let's be honest here: daemyra was always problematic and people shouting ~grooming! weren't completely wrong, but the writers also sold it as High Romance. the Stupid Fangirls weren't that blinded by their silly girly brains: d&r were framed as being genuinely in love despite the painfully obvious problematic elements. (& the incest is the least problematic thing here, since this is westeros and they're targs.) i think one of the directors even compared their love to what she feels for her own husband. so no, we weren't dreaming it up, they just couldn't find a balance between Toxic Incest Couple & Soulmates Being Soulmates, and obv they had to put a ~Bad Man is Very Bad, Girlies, Don't Try At Home~ bs Morality Play that seems so damn popular in this day and age. mind you, we all knew shit was going to hit the fan with nettles' appearance (i'm still worried about her portrayal, she's just a young girl and daemon is so much older than her, and i have no idea how they’re going to develop/frame their relationship) but somehow i had not foreseen him being physically abusive to his wife (who just gave birth to their stillborn daughter and lost her father btw). i was expecting him to lash out but... not like this. after their (fabulous ngl) wedding i haven't been much invested in daemyra anyway (i thought their decades long budding romance was much more appealing) but despite what i said above, one thing d/r fans were wrong about was expecting that hbo could actually make a medieval fantasy wuthering heights 2.0 and deliver lmao. no mainstream media would do that, not in the current ~think of the girls!!! climate. this is like believing that the star wars sequels were a gothic female-gazey romance that featured rey's sexual awakening + happy ending with the local parricidal ex darksider - the romance was there, don't get me wrong, but no hollywood-made pop culture piece of media could ever deliver. we also know d/r history from f&b, it's not all sunshine and rainbows... tho it's not comparable to jaime&cersei either. this is no valonqar situation - if and when that happens in asoiaf, motives and characters can't be compared only because d. and jaime share a love for poor impulse control and incest; the framing for their ~love affair and the choking act is also radically different. this feels like a punishment for the girls who tend to romanticize daemon and his feelings for his niece, as a "sharp reminder" of who he is and what is capable of (and that women, even dragon queens who are more than mere consorts and childbearers, can be victimized and have shitty husbands ig). except that however awful and poor little meow meow he may be, he didn't do any of this marital abuse bs in the book as far as we know. which brings me to:

i have a small problem with the people who say "f&b is no real account of the dance, these characters can't be written as ooc because we basically don't know them! it's all headcanons and bias!". theoretically i agree: there are at least 3 different versions of any major event, and what intrigued me the most about this show was the premise of Unreliable Narrator Extraordinaire. which path would these writers follow? because logically one should also say: "is this what really happened in the dance?" like, aren't these people (hired by hbo, paid a shitton of money, apparently asoiaf fans themselves) also writing down their own interpretations? unless grrm himself is behind everything (foot fetish and wife-choking included) who are these people to say this is what actually happened? they didn't create the characters and the plot etc., we're seeing them through their eyes and bias as well. why are the Poor Naive Girls who romanticized the Bad Dark Prince (aka they knew he was a big asshole but didn't think he had it in him to actually assault the woman he loves) the ones to be so awfully biased and affected by media illiteracy, to the point i’ve already seen the usual crowd online gloating over it like “ha ha the bitches had it coming”? one could say this is just another version of the dance... which would actually be more compelling imo. this also brings me to:

grandma vhagar being nostalgic of her war crimes era and gnam gnam lucerys to the oblivion. i have... very mixed feelings about this. i agree that making aemond more than an evil cackling anime villain is a good choice but idk about this tbh. idk how they could have spin it differently either tho, so i give up. people say "at least he doesn't actively seek war out so he doesn't look like an idiot" except he looks like an even bigger idiot because no one in their right mind would chase down their four-and-ten nephew and his dragon (said to be “five times smaller” than vhagar) through the sky while they're riding a huge ass fucking beast that could dwarf a mountain and actually fought in the conquest just to pick out his eye, and not expect it to horribly escalate. like, if you make two dragons face each other (especially if one of them is as powerful and ancient as vhagar is) what do you think is going to happen? realistically, i mean? maybe aemond didn't want to go that far but omg he should have foreseen this from a mile. like, sweetie maybe you didn't study your history and lore so well. and for the "he's just a teenager he doesn't know what he's doing" crowd: in a short span of time this ~poor baby~ is going to burn down the riverlands, hundreds of people will die. the incident that sparks the dance being an actual accident, tho... lmao sorry but that sounds like a joke. like, no matter how you spin it, if you like or love or hate it, it still robs the character of his agency, and therefore the story of poignancy. and i'm not even 100% sold on ~the dragons randomly eating people alive even when their riders strictly forbid them too~ because yeah, i can see that, a dragon is no slave and of course they're not mindless beasts but actually quite intelligent etc. but on the other hand i for one can't wait for drogon to fire up kl of his own free will - maybe he'll just hate that fugly city, who knows - so that ~dany (aka an actual 16 year old victim of rape and abuse who liberated thousands of slaves in a continent she was exiled to as an infant) is going to burn children alive and be put down like a mad bitch because that's somehow comparable to lotr shire chapter!!1~ disk horse can finally die its miserable death.

so, yeah, mixed feelings about these two (2) plot points, particularly the ~daemon is physically abusive now~ thing. also dk about whitewashing the blacks anymore, rhaenys killed a fuck ton of civilians in ep9 for no conceivable reason (something that in the books and in peaceful times only the worst of the worst are willing to do, no matter how much these elite assholes don’t care about the smallfolk) and now daemon is even more evil than he was in the book. aegon ii may be... well, aegon ii, but with aemond being somehow more humane and whatever they're doing to alicent the blacks are the ones that actually wreak more havoc - and i’m not even touching the blood and cheese thing. at least aemond's fuck-up kinslaying was accidental lol. jokes aside i overall liked this ep more than i did ep9 and while it’s not bad bad... no mistake, this is no high television either. i’ve seen what great tv can do (it’s exceptionally rare tho, more than people think) and this doesn’t look like it except for some acting choices + scenes.

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #the real hero here is ramin djawadi #the coronation scene was also very good tho it still doesn't hold a candle to got s1 finale with dany birthing the dragons #(i felt like it somehow echoed that scene with everyone kneeling etc.)#ah and matt smith voice sounds much nicer when he sings #his speaking voice is somehow high and nasal (which doesn't fit daemon's character imo) but his singing is lovely #val speaks #hotd spoilers #house of the dragon #txt

31 notes · View notes

mythicamagic · 3 years ago

Text

Sesskag Week: Day One ‘Green’

Title: Stop me if you’ve heard this one before

Summary: Kagome witnesses Inuyasha and Kikyo in another loving embrace and runs away, stumbling straight into Sesshoumaru that moonlit night. (My attempt at an old fandom trope.)

Rated T

Words: 4,000

You can read this on Ao3, Dokuga and Fanfiction.net

AN: I just wanted to try my hand at an old sesskag fandom trope that I reckon was in the height of popularity from the early 2000s- 2010s. Other tropes from that time included Abusive Inuyasha, no one knowing what the canon end or final battle was like, and mokomoko being sentient. Ah...old memories. If this fic feels like it's from a bygone era, well...that was the intention lol. For Sesskag Week Day One - Green.

-----

Standing frozen stiff, Kagome stared ahead. A gasp remained locked behind her teeth. Slim fingers dug into the bark of a tree she'd hidden behind, gazing around the trunk towards a couple cradling each other tightly.

This was the second time. The first had hit harder inside her chest, the slam of heartbreak cracking the fragile shell of first love that had closed around her heart.

But she'd made a promise to Inuyasha; to remain by his side. She needed to get over this haze of green misting her eyes, the jealousy roaring through her veins. Inuyasha and Kikyo used to be lovers, it was perfectly natural and humane to want to hold his lost love.

That didn't make it any easier to see.

In fact, the emotion welling up in her throat threatened to burst louder than before. Fearing the strength of her own reaction, Kagome stepped back. She took another, then another, whirling around to flee into pitch-black darkness.

I wanted to be more mature about this, she thought. The tears stinging her eyes bespoke of her anger, worry, and heartache- like an old wound had been freshly ripped open anew.

Kagome couldn't be understanding or mature, not like poised Lady Kikyo likely could. Kagome was 15, emotive and sparking. She was fire, passion, a roaring flame of anger that could climb so high nothing would stifle it.

Stumbling over tree roots in the dark, quiet woods, Kagome ran blind. When she felt that she'd covered enough ground, far away from the lover's embrace, she stopped abruptly in the middle of a meadow. Sweat beading her temple and throat burning, she threw back her head.

And yelled.

She threw all turbulent emotions into it, crying so loud her windpipe protested. The noise became horse and broken before she stopped.

Standing within that moonlit clearing, Kagome caught her breath, tears threatening to spill over.

"Must you make such noise in the dead of night?" a steady voice drawled.

Her chest constricted, breath halting. Shadows peeled off from the trees, a figure revealing itself under the moonlight.

Kagome blinked hard, trying to fight tears as Sesshoumaru stepped closer. She moved back to keep distance, vaguely wary. Shit, she'd forgotten her weapons.

He wasn't an enemy per se anymore but they weren't exactly allies either. Since he'd adopted that human girl, they seemed to be in more of a stalemate. Nonetheless, the caprice of the Killing Perfection's moods were unpredictable.

"M-my bad, I didn't think anyone was around."

"You cried like a wounded animal," his lips curved, as though enjoying the thought. "Take heed, girl; such wailing will disturb demons with keen hearing- and not all are as forgiving as I tonight."

"Right, duly noted," she mumbled, rubbing her arm. Damn it. She'd just wanted a place to cry. Sesshoumaru was the last person she wanted to feel vulnerable around.

Golden eyes slid up to observe something beyond the trees. Turning to follow his line of sight, her chest constricted- glimpsing a trailing soul collector in the sky.

"Inuyasha's dead priestess uses those creatures, does she not?"

"Y-yeah, they're Kikyo's soul collectors."

His attention returned to her face, resting heavily there. It disquieted her until at length, he finally made a noise. "...Hn."

The Daiyouki smoothly pivoted, walking out of her available vision to meld within thick darkness again, but she sensed him linger beneath the trees, perhaps taking a seat.

"Keep the snivelling to a minimum."

Kagome startled, blue eyes widening. The first tear fell- closely followed by the second. Soon a stream of them flooded down her face, and she crumpled to her knees, palm clasped tight over her mouth as she tried not to sob.

She wasn't sure how or why. How she could suddenly fall apart in front of him when Kagome prided herself on not crying in front of anyone if it were possible. The why also remained a mystery- why did he invite her to stay? Sesshoumaru was not a charitable sort. Perhaps his sadistic streak enjoyed the salt of endless tears.

Kagome stayed there, quivering in the moonlit clearing for a good while, grass cushioning her bare legs, arms wrapped around herself protectively. When at last the sobs abated, she shakily stood.

Without a word to the demon who had watched her like a voyer of her pain, Kagome headed towards the village after piecing herself back together.

She couldn't see Sesshoumaru's expression, nor the way in which citrine eyes followed her figure until she stepped out of sight.

---

It wasn't like Kagome cried after every damn encounter with Kikyo, though they did leave her worn and exhausted. She felt mighty proud of not bursting into sobs the second Inuyasha's eyes lingered on her a little too long. But Kagome could bear that. She could bear many things.

It was fine, totally fine. She was fine!

Until she wasn't.

It had been two months since that emotional night and thankfully Sesshoumaru hadn't acknowledged her fine display of despair and teenage hormones. In fact, he seemed a little quieter during their encounters while hunting for Naraku, pinpointing her amidst her friends and eyeing her carefully sometimes.

So it was with mild surprise that Kagome stumbled into him again on one such occasion where she needed a good cry. And then again a few weeks after- followed by another encounter near a waterfall a month later. Every time, Sesshoumaru said nothing. He merely waited a respectable distance away, not particularly looking at, nor acknowledging her sorrow as she let out pent up frustrations.

What should be an immensely private thing had changed. Kagome wasn't sure what to feel about it, especially when he began erecting barriers around the area.

Almost like he was ensuring her privacy while continuing to invade it himself.

"W-why…?" she choked out one evening, sitting upon a log with only the Daiyoukai for company. Inuyasha and the others were none the wiser, sitting back at camp further within the forest. "Why are you here, hanging around? Is it fun for you to watch this?" her anger simmered, misdirected.

Sesshoumaru's lazy gaze slid over to her, reclining at the base of a tree. He huffed, drawing a knee up to gracefully drape an arm over it. "Your wailing is an assault on my hearing, I derive no pleasure from this."

"Then what's the deal? I find it hard to believe you're doing it for me."

"Hn, you are correct, I am not," he freely admitted. "This act of concealment is out of acknowledgement. Warriors must not show weakness in battle, nor to anyone but a select few. I am merely ensuring your wish to hide your pain is successful since you are so terrible at doing it yourself," inhuman eyes pinned her in place. Her breath stalled at their intensity. "Your desire to conceal tears and weakness is unexpected for one as emotional as you."

Kagome picked at her fingers. "It's not out of a sense of duty or warrior pride as you seem to think. I just don't like burdening people with my problems. Only...all this energy piles up and explodes out as anger at Inuyasha anyway, I'm not suppressing or hiding anything at the end of the day," she gave a self-deprecating smile. Letting out a long whoosh of air from her lungs, Kagome turned to him.

"For what it's worth, thanks. For uh- concealing me. I still think it's odd that you're going to all this trouble but I'm grateful."

He arched a brow, unruffled and outwardly placid.

Wiping the remaining tears away, she gave a weak smirk. "Urgh, I blubber so loudly over a guy I really shouldn't be in love with. Kinda stupid."

"Indeed," he drawled without sympathy, glancing away.

"And you're still a jerk," she hummed, smiling slightly. But a weird, considerate one. Was it possible to be both considerate and a jerk?

Sesshoumaru did not look at her, tilting his head back to gaze at the branches overhead.

"You 'blubber' so loud a 'barrier' is necessary in order to keep your privacy. Inuyasha would catch your scent otherwise."

"Can Naraku see us like this?"

"The barrier does not mask us from sight, it merely hides scent. It is effective on Inuyasha and other demons but the spider could easily survey us from a distance."

Kagome sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Gotcha," she murmured, falling into a strangely companionable silence with him, before asking; "have you ever been in love?"

His reply was immediate and crisp; "no. Such things are for fanciful beings."

Biting her lip to keep from mentioning his 'Great and Powerful Father' had fallen victim to such fanciful things too, she hummed.

Sesshoumaru frowned in her direction. "Speak."

"I just think- when you do experience love, it's gonna knock you off your feet."

He sneered, "you think yourself an expert on the subject?"

"Gods no! Do I look like one?" Kagome grinned, gesturing to her tear-stained cheeks.

Sesshoumaru searched her face, visibly relaxing slightly. He tilted his head, surveying his sharp nails. "For what it is worth, if I had an opinion on the matter- which I do not," he assured. "I should think your fanciful 'love' emotion is not supposed to cause such pain. I question your dedication to it."

"My feelings for Inuyasha aren't something I can turn off. Believe me, I would if I could," shifting she gazed up at the stars, smiling gently. "Wow, Ursa Major looks so clear and close tonight."

Youki brushed her senses, her only warning. Soft grass crunched beneath boots as Sesshoumaru joined her on the log, sitting beside her. Mokomoko brushed the exposed skin of her knee. His eyes narrowed. "You are referring to the stars?"

Kagome blinked with surprise at his sudden piqued interest, raising a hand to point them out. "Yeah, a constellation. Ursa Major starts there and ends there," her finger drifted.

Sesshoumaru's blank features became lofty, huffing. "That is the incorrect name for it. Those stars are called Satoko."

"Who told you that?"

"My instructor when I was young. And this collection," he reached out, plucking her hand out of the air and redirecting her point to another constellation, "is Mineko, a volcano spirit."

Her skin burned at the contact, feeling his calloused palm, rough from years of training- clasping the back of her hand. Kagome blinked, feeling strange. Her stomach jumped, and she felt grateful and confused when he released her.

"I-I see! Tell me more about them, are they linked to your demonic heritage?" Kagome asked, flexing burning fingers in her lap.

Even hours afterwards, the sensation of warmth and strong youki flitting over her flesh continued to itch at her skin.

---

"I don't want to talk to you! JUST BACK OFF!"

Inuyasha's expression flickered, open hurt briefly appearing before white ears pinned flat to his skull. "FINE! Go running home again, see if I care!"

Kagome stormed away, hands balled into fists. She didn't call for Kirara to fly her to the well, she couldn't be bothered to haul herself back to the future and continue their long and tired trend of long-distance pining followed by disgruntled reconciliation.

She was tired.

Miroku, Sango and Shippo were tired too, judging from the multiple sighs sounding out behind her.

Before she could step out of earshot, she heard the monk murmuring to Inuyasha, encouraging him to follow her and make up. Likely to save everyone the hassle of another drawn-out spat.

Oh no.

Hadn't anyone listened to what she'd said? She didn't want to be chased in some coy 'let's have a fake argument' way. Real hurt and bone-weary annoyance soured her mood.

Hurrying away, Kagome began to run alongside a stream, jogging through a sparse forest and hoping to put distance between them. So lost in her thoughts of avoiding the Hanyou was she that Kagome burst through a youki barrier without noticing, glancing over her shoulder with paranoia.

By the time she detected wafts of steam brushing her skin, it was too late to stop. She gaped upon facing forward, almost crashing headfirst into a well-sculpted chest.

Long strands of silver against bare skin caught Kagome's dazed attention, gaze travelling up to find golden eyes staring down at her. Sesshoumaru paused half-naked before a hot-spring he'd likely intended on bathing in, tipping his head to one side in a silent demand for explanation.

"Kagome!" a distant voice resounded through the trees.

Panic erupted inside Kagome's heart and she turned to the demon. Her hands latched onto his remaining arm, blue eyes stinging.

"Please..."

She couldn't articulate what she wanted, even though it was so simple. Something thick clogged her throat.

The Daiyoukai lifted his attention to the trees. He then moved swiftly.

Sesshoumaru tossed his red and white hankimono over her, enclosing it tight around her body. It shielded Kagome from sight as her vision became swallowed by white silks.

Kagome jolted as a hard force shoved her down into dewy grass that perspired from heady steam saturating the air. Before she could react to the plains of a lean body pressing against hers, his weight pinning her to the ground, she heard branches shaking. Twigs snapping.

Her loafers were ripped off her feet, tossed somewhere further away. Likely out of sight. She heard them clatter over the sound of her drumming heartbeat, unable to see what was going on.

"What the- Sesshoumaru!" Inuyasha snarled, sounding slightly out of breath. "The fuck are you doing, hanging around here?"

A clawed hand minded the folds of the hankimono apart just enough to expose the side of Kagome's cheek- firm lips pressing against it. She stiffened. Sesshoumaru kissed her skin heatedly, his sigh billowing hot breath over her sensitive skin.

"Clearly I am enjoying myself with a woman. Do not interrupt, whelp."

Kagome could barely breathe, face turning steadily red. She lay frozen, reeling.

"Keh, whatever. Just tell me if you've seen Kagome pass through here."

He must not be able to smell me...

"Can you not keep tabs on a simple miko, brother?" Sesshoumaru purred, his hand gliding over her covered thigh, stroking back and forth. "Did she flee from you? I cannot say I blame her."

A snarl ripped through the hot springs. "Piss off! I'll find her myself!"

Furious sounds of bushes being slashed aside rang out, Inuyasha's swears becoming fainter as he drew further and further away.

Left with a demon straddling her and enclosed in luxurious silks, Kagome exhaled. She blinked, briefly dazed as the cover was lifted from her face, eyes adjusting. Dappled sunlight stretched across Sesshoumaru's face as he lingered close with an unreadable expression.

Kagome swallowed. "Thanks," she managed to say.

She's never been this close to a guy before, well not like this, anyway. Inuyasha carried her on his back or occasionally in his arms if the situation got dire, and they'd hugged. But this felt different.

Sesshoumaru braced himself over her using his one available arm, corded muscles leading down to a tapered waist. He was handsome in an aristocratic, cold sort of way – all hard angles and sharp edges. Her polar opposite. The heat of his bare skin bled through her school uniform, their hips melded together, and Kagome was struck by something painfully obvious that had eluded her until now.

There were...other options besides just Inuyasha.

Clearly, the Hanyou knew this little nugget too, since he flitted between herself and Kikyo.

But really, Kagome hadn't given it much thought. Hojo liked her but was easily dismissed. Kouga liked her but she'd always been too busy to really give him a chance.

And Sesshoumaru?

Her attention was helplessly fixed on him while the demon craned his neck down, scenting her hair.

Sesshoumaru had never been on the table before. Did he even look at her like that?

Golden eyes slanted to meet her, half-lidded. Her stomach did a flip, thighs twitching. Soft pink lips parted, and his attention flew to her mouth, lingering.

Before she could say anything, Inuyasha's voice sounded out somewhere close by again. "Damn it, Kagome! Just come out! Quit hiding!"

Kagome found herself sighing- stilling when she caught Sesshoumaru's dark rumble. His lips peeled back with displeasure, body leaning up and away from hers, climbing off.

Remaining sprawled on the ground for a moment, she calmed her racing heart. Picking herself up unsteadily, Kagome unwrapped the hankimono from around herself, awkwardly folding it as best she could and handing it back.

"I better go."

He inclined his head. "Until next time."

Next time.

Her gut wrenched. The next time she became upset with Inuyasha chasing after Kikyo. Oh wow. It really had become something so commonplace it felt inevitable.

That wasn't right or normal. That wasn't how she wanted to live, was it? Anticipating one crying session after another?

"Actually, let's meet up," she said, setting her shoulders back.

Surprise brightened his gaze. Sesshoumaru's lips twitched, "meet up, hm? You make it sound like an illicit affair."

Her expression darkened, "no. I'm not into that," she snipped, pushing her vindictive mood down. This was not an offer out of petty revenge. She just wanted to see him out of choice for once. "I brought a telescope. Let's use it tomorrow when it gets dark."

He agreed to it, watching her leave in that quiet, interested way he usually did. Kagome glanced back in time to see him partially turned away- hankimono clenched in his grip and lifted to his nose in a careful inhale.

---

Kagome actually felt quite happy about the meeting. Anticipation had raced through her veins during the entire day, though she didn't breathe a word about it to her friends.

After finishing up her food, she'd hung around camp late into the evening, before inching away with a weak excuse.

She didn't notice Inuyasha's keen eyes trailing after her, too preoccupied with hurrying around a nearby waterfall and retrieving her telescope that she'd hidden behind some rocks earlier.

Carrying the heavy thing up to the crest of a decently sized hill, she staggered upon finding the Daiyoukai already awaiting her at the top.

Kagome stopped and stared. She then felt a genuine smile curve her lips. How strange, that he could invoke such a reaction.

"Did I keep you waiting?"

Sesshoumaru lifted his chin haughtily, grunting. "I am not some lost puppy following you around, miko. I sensed your approach from my camp and generously decided not to stand you up."

Kagome grinned. What a big response. Almost like he was lying.

Giggling softly to herself, she arranged the telescope set, angling it up to face the distant cosmos. "Okay, you're gonna love this. I'm going to bore you with astrology and point out zodiac signs."

"These fancy foreign words do not sound boring," he uttered, leaning in close to view the stars with faint amazement, perhaps not anticipating the clarity of their view. Kagome felt his hip brush her side, her cheeks immediately blazing red. She tried to temper her reaction but failed miserably, looking at him briefly.

His placid features were much too close, familiar dark youki humming in the space between them. Comforting. Golden eyes met hers, ever watchful. Waiting.

"Sesshoumaru!"

They immediately flew apart as though they'd been doing something scandalous, Kagome's heart leaping into her throat.

Inuyasha stood a little ways away, teeth on display, hand resting on his sword. "Get the hell away from her!"

"Inuyasha- wait," she tried to cut in, but Sesshoumaru was quicker. Lifting his remaining hand, he fed youki into it, allowing deadly fingers to elongate into murderous talons. However, much to her surprise, he faced Kagome while flexing them.

"I will kill her if I please, Inuyasha," he rumbled. "She is a mere fanciful human."

Blue eyes widened, but Kagome clocked onto what he was doing immediately. It lingered there under his calm features that he tried to harden into contempt.

He was playing the villain. For her.

Likely out of some misguided desire to keep everything at the status quo, because he believed it would be easier on them both if they weren't seen as friends. Everything halted inside Kagome. She felt like she'd been coasting through her days without really questioning it.

"Bastard!" Inuyasha snarled, ripping his sword from its sheath.

With a strange sense of calm, Kagome raised her head. She then stepped in between them both, placing her fingers atop Sesshoumaru's sharp, transformed ones.

"That's enough," she said quietly, lowering his large hand.

"K-Kagome? What're you doing? Get back!"

"I said; that's enough, Inuyasha!" Kagome grit her teeth, tension gripping her fiercely- until it abruptly left all at once, rendering her exhausted.

"We need to talk," she said softly, gazing at him meaningfully.

Inuyasha blinked, lowering his sword as his ears pricked and lowered.

Turning to Sesshoumaru, she smiled weakly. "We're going to have to cut this meeting short, sorry."

"We can always reschedule."

Kagome gentled, a warmth pooling inside her that she hoped to revisit soon. However, the Daiyoukai hadn't made it three steps away before familiar laughter spread over the vast countryside beyond their hill.

Miasma leaked out of the sky, waning flowers on their stalks and killing the grass, rendering it dulled brown.

Naraku appeared in all his true, villainous glory- at exactly the wrong time nobody wanted to deal with him. However, absolutely no one could ignore this fight, as a completed Shikon jewel rested in the palm of his hand.

Kagome's stomach dropped. She automatically accepted her bow and arrows from Sango and Miroku when they arrived, looking grim-faced and out of breath. Inuyasha lifted his sword again with determination blazing in his eyes.

The Final Battle had begun.

---

They say 'time heals all wounds.'

Kagome would like to have a word with whoever 'they' were because this sentiment proved false. Time muted pain. It concealed it under layers of civilian life, responsibilities, family dinners and get togethers with friends, but her deep wound never really healed. The pervasive desire to return back to a life that had been stolen from her.

She couldn't say it had been perfect in the Feudal Era but she still missed it terribly. Missed her friends, travelling, exploring, strengthening her burgeoning powers.

She also missed someone she hadn't anticipated longing to speak to.

After killing Naraku and getting her hands on the jewel, Kagome had made her wish;

'I wish Kikyo would come back to life.'

It had resulted in trapping Kagome in the future, the Bone Eater's Well closing, barring entrance. She'd figured the look on Inuyasha's face had almost been worth it, his gob-smacked expression kind of hilarious.

Perhaps the wish had been an out of nowhere impulse. Who knew. All Kagome knew was that a part of her had died that day on the hill with the telescope- the candle of first love snuffing out. She still cared for Inuyasha of course, she wouldn't have wished Kikyo alive otherwise, but the act said something. They'd never be anything more than friends.

After trying her hand at dating a few boys in class, Kagome had broken up with them and remained single for the better part of a year. There wasn't anything wrong with them, per se, but it had felt disingenuous.

It wasn't them she wanted to speak to.

At the age of 18, the miko got her chance. Inexplicably, and without warning or provocation, the well reopened again one night.

Kagome stirred awake, lured downstairs by the promise of magic. It pulsed strongly like before, so she slid her legs over the rim of the well without fear that it would be a oneway trip.

Leaping down while still clad in her patchwork style pyjamas, dark hair whipped upwards as blue light swallowed her whole.

Immediately the smell of city smoke was replaced with distinct smells of petrichor. Fresh scents guided her feet to land gently on the bottom of the well, looking up at dark, cloudy skies.

Climbing out and feeling moisture lingering in the air dampening her hair, Kagome looked up, breath hitching.

The clearing looked exactly the same. Achingly nostalgic.

It sprawled empty and lonesome, awaiting her in complete silence. Kagome noticed the dirt disturbed around the well from how often she and Inuyasha had travelled through it.

Breath catching, hot tears stung her eyes.

Laughing weakly to herself, Kagome tried to rub them away in vain, more rolling down her cheeks. Unlike the usual times though, these were happy tears. Relief threatened to buckle her knees.

"I'm home," she shuddered.

"...Welcome back."

Snapping her head up, Kagome swallowed an embarrassing noise, warmth melting into her expression. She took a step, and then another, walking over to Sesshoumaru as he stood a little ways away, moonlight highlighting his hair.

"Y-you're here?"

Golden eyes flitted over her face, gentling a touch. He reached out and brushed pale knuckles against her jaw, catching tears upon it. "I sensed you. As usual, you blubber too loud, miko."

Choking on a sob, Kagome laughed, catching his hand and pressing her lips to the inside of his wrist.

Sesshoumaru stiffened, attention zeroing in on her. Kagome held his gaze as best she could with watery eyes, smiling.

"Date me," she stated plainly.

No second-guessing, no 'will they, won't they?' no more pining or questioning. Kagome refused to do it again.

He seemed somewhat taken aback by her forwardness for a moment, before a strange kind of intensity livened his expression. He wound his single arm around her waist, pulling her in close.

"What boldness, Kagome," he purred, lips ghosting the side of her ear. "But you can do better than that. Are you certain that is all you want from me?"

Kagome blushed hotly, shifting to catch his eye and smirk. "I just made it back here after three years. Let me catch my breath," she teased, hooking a hand under his yellow obi. "But...yeah, I might want more soon, you jerk."

Sesshoumaru rumbled with approval, swiftly ending the charade of teasing and swooping in. His lips claimed hers firmly, and it was not a kind, sweet kiss but she didn't mind, pressing herself against him. His tongue delved into her mouth, brushing against hers as a clawed hand snaked up into dark hair, gripping tight.

Smiling against his mouth, Kagome trying her best to keep up with his rough kiss as he bit and sucked her lips, inhaling her scent. He almost seemed elated, kissing her so quick and eagerly, like he'd been starving for it.

Out of curiosity, Kagome slid her palm over his chest, finding his heart racing.

Sesshoumaru broke away to plant heated kisses against her neck. He panted, the hand in her hair shaking with want of her.

Kagome stared, slowly looping her arms around his shoulders. "You...want me?" she said quietly like an obvious revelation. It felt so strange and surreal.

He huffed with amusement against her lips. "Hn, it appears you have made me fanciful, miko."

Brightening and smiling widely, Kagome pushed up on tip-toe. Guiding his mouth down with palms cradling his striped cheeks, she kissed him again, pouring every powerful emotion left unsaid into it.

End

#sesskag #Sesshoumaru x Kagome #skw2021 #sesskagweek2021 #skw2021d1

99 notes · View notes

starryeyedweeb · 4 years ago

Text

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

144 notes · View notes

tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

Text

the love club — miya atsumu

twenty six: the spectacular now

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: thank you all so much for sticking around and watching tlc grow! this smau turned out to be more popular than i thought and i’m so glad for all the support! there were times where i was stuck on the plot and genuinely thought of putting this smau on hiatus,, but i’m glad i pushed through and didn’t. reading each and every one of your comments and reblogs made making this smau really fun. tysm 🥰

also the ‘read more’ link is making this post super glitchy and repeating paragraphs for no reason 😔😔

(continuation of the convos last chap cause i couldn’t fit it in lmao)

atsumu’s chest heavy feeling upon arriving at the last and final train station in tokyo filled him with unnecessary unease. an abundance of worry had crashed upon him in a blasting flurry that even the early onset heat of japan in the spring was the last thing on his mind to complain about.

there were many things that could go wrong with such a flawed plan birthed from suna’s spontaneity. for one, you could very well reject atsumu the moment he finally came into your reach (this was the worse case scenario for him) and it could honestly evolve into something worse knowing his parents would beat his ass if they were to find out he took this trip with nothing but his phone, wallet, his brother, and a friend.

yet at this point, he had nothing to lose.

he was already in tokyo and wasted half his day coming all this way, there was definitely no point in going back and have all his efforts go to waste. if anything, you were atsumu’s pushing force, the strong current that pulled him along with the tides just to see you. he only needed one reason and that one reason was you.

a weary sigh emitted from his lips as osamu’s patted his brother’s shoulder with his free hand whilst the other was carrying a picnic basket. call it twin telepathy or just being plain observant, but the cacophony of atsumu’s erratic thoughts were evident upon his expression for osamu to notice. hell, even a random stranger with half a brain cell would know that the setter was going through some internalized anxiety.

this was osamu’s only way of comforting him as the only thing that would completely wash away atsumu’s fear was for you to take him back.

the feeling of dread didn’t cease for atsumu as it continued in a raging downpour on the way to the convention center in shibuya. the event had already started hours ago and the boys had no idea where to find you—not even kita who was great at taking the lead—he was captain after all.

by the time the four volleyball players entered the largely crowded convention center, they had no other choice but to breathe out their hopes in finding you in the midst of chaos.

“alright, the plan is...” kita huffs as his eyes scanned the bustling crowds that messily serpentined through booths. his gaze met back to the boys who surrounded him with intent written to their faces. a bittersweet smile melted upon his lips as it reminded him of giving pep talks right before games... no doubt he was going to miss it.

“i suggest we split up and find her,” osamu adds in first.

kita shakes his head, “this place is gigantic, it’ll take ages for us to even call and find each other if we do.”

“or i could steal a mic from somewhere and pretend y/n’s a lost child or something...”

“we’re not doing that, suna.”

“damn,” he sighs as he looked down in faux defeat.

a shaky sigh left atsumu’s lips again, “let’s just stick together and try and find her.”

with that the four of them delved into the crowd.

the convention center was certainly bigger than atsumu thought, and he certainly didn't remember the walk from the entrance of the event up towards the dense middle area where he was right now. perhaps it was the simmering and leftover fervor upon entering that his mind was too clouded to even know where he was going. at this point, he wasn't even trying to find you anymore, instead, he wandered the labyrinthine array of booths in self-indulgence until each turn appeared the same and he was back to the same spot he started.

where were you?

atsumu was at the cusp of giving up. even osamu who was supporting him the entire time was starting to complain. with the aching in his arm from carrying a heavy picnic basket of all the foods he made for you and his brother was weighing him back. even suna who was carrying the picnic blanket was sweating just by holding it.

“guys,” the setter sighs in defeat. “i think we should call it a day and—”

suddenly a hand wrapped around his bicep, pulling him aback and capturing his attention. atsumu whips his head around only to look down upon a familiar face. a face that filled him with constant warmth and caused his heart to immediately quicken by the millisecond.

it was sudden. too sudden for you to even comprehend that the moment you spotted atsumu’s familiar figure looming over in the crowd, it was game over for you. your legs started walking by themselves as if they were being controlled by your heart rather than your head.

it wasn’t like you to do this, anyway—this confrontation. if anything, you were the type to pretend you didn’t see atsumu’s face, to turn back around into the crowd and act as if nothing had happened. but there was this aching in your chest, an abundance of tightness until it squeezed every last bi of unspoken truths out of your lungs.

was it guilt, sadnass, or anger? love?

you weren’t entirely sure, yet its dissonance couldn’t be ignored. even if you did try and avoid atsumu, you’d end up right in front of him either way.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, the tone in your voice and even to your expression was unreadable to atsumu.

he had no idea if you were excited to see him or if you were completely shocked and wanted him to leave immediately.

atsumu hoped it was the former.

“i–um...” he tried forming the words upon his tongue, but his thoughts were moving too fast for him to even comprehend what he was going to say to you.

hell, he even rehearsed what to say for this exact moment the entire train ride here to tokyo, yet he was completely slipping up.

his usual confidence and somewhat cocky attitude was nowhere to be seen. and it’s even crazy to think that you’re the only one who can make him act this way.

your grip on his upper arm tightened by the slightest bit when atsumu didn’t answer, “i’m about to present, tsumu, i don’t have enough time...”

tsumu?

you still call him that? even after all that happened?

if only he could just melt into your arms right then and there. he was so close to finally alleviating that yearn, but your comforting warmth left his body the moment you let him go.

“i’m here to apologize.” he swiftly answers as you were about to turn your heel, “...even though i’m three weeks late.”

your eyebrows furrow slightly as you teetered your weight back in forth, your nerves building up. atsumu hadn’t seen you do that since your project presentation together. “i should be apologizing too,” you sighed with instantaneous releif coursing through atsumu’s body, “but now’s honestly not a good time.”

“i know, but matsui told me that you might be moving away this summer and i wanted to see you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, cursing to yourself as you felt the sudden influx of crimson blush swearing from your cheeks to the edges of your ears. “so you came all this way?” your voice was a bit shakey.

could he tell you were nervous?

“only because i like you... still”

yup... he could definitely tell.

maybe that slight pinch awkwardness between the two of you was more beneficial that you thought. from the sheepish smiles and stolen glances, it eased you to your surprise. “i can’t believe i have feelings for an idiot.”

atsumu hums in amusement, eyes lighting up when he saw that familiar smirk on your face. “are they good feelings?”

“of course they are,” you scoffed, “why? would you rather have me back to hating you?”

the boy before you shakes his head. “no, i like it this way,” he mutters before pulling you into his chest without a second thought.

it was overwhelming. from how his much broader and taller body embraced you in such familiar warmth to even his scent of honey and mocha. despite being miles away from hyogo, it was atsumu who reminded you of home.

this was nice considering you weren’t exactly planning on forgiving him so easily. perhaps it was the way the moment you spotted his familiar blond undercut in the crowd he towered over caused a switch in your brain to flip. perhaps you miss the way he was right beside you almost everyday.

perhaps you couldn’t keep your distance from him anymore.

pulling yourself out of the hug, your eyes flicker over to a trio of volleyball players standing a good six feet away away from you two. their shoulders basically touched as they all gave you a smile and a wave.

eventually, your eyes dropped to picnic basket in osamu’s hands and the blanket draped over suna’s shoulders.

a slight chuckle emits from you lips, “what’s up with them?” you asked atsumu.

his head turns over his shoulder before looking back down at you. his arms still lingered around your waist as he hesitated to even let you go again. “remember back when we had our date during nationals, we visited the park?”

“so it was a date?” you almost explained.

“it thought it was,” atsumu shrugs, “we saw a couple on a picnic date and you thought it was cute so i figured we could go on one.”

“and you remembered that?” you questioned as you arched a brow towards him.

“every single detail.”

atsumu didn’t have to ask you to go on this date with him. at least at this point, he’d know you would’ve said yes. like what kind of person would reject a date from the love of their life who traveled five hours just for them?

only a idiot would and you were certainly not an idiot... not right now at least.

a saccharine-sweet smile appeared upon your lips as you looked back towards atsumu, “i’m free after six o’clock. you think you guys could stick around for a few more hours?”

“if that’s a chance to meet chef suzuno and eat dessert, then yes.” cut in osamu the moment you asked.

you and atsumu weren’t exactly in the most private of places, so but it wasn’t like you two cared at this point.

suna clears his throat, “um, my parents don’t even know im in tokyo right now, so if i get murdered tonight that’s on you guys.”

“either way, i gotta get home. i have to pack before the weekend ends.” kita adds as he pats suna’s shoulders, “which means you’re coming back to hyogo with me. (y/n) and the twins can take care of themselves.”

“but—!” suna tried to retaliate but was pushed back into the crowd and disappeared to go home.

you sighed in amusement before turning your attention back to atsumu.

“i have to go, now.”

atsumu nods, “samu and i will walk around then before watching your presentation.” he explains but as he was turning over his shoulder, you captured his arm again.

you planted a kiss on his lips. it was much softer than it looked and for a second the commotion around you two seemed to slow.

it felt like it took ages for atsumu to feel your lips against his, but the wait was worth it. his entire plan that ended up failing was worth it. the five hours of his ass hurting from sitting on the train seats was worth it. finding you within this impossible crowd was worth it. you were worth it—more than anything.

osamu fake gagged as he looked at you and atsumu in disgust, “can you two not make out in front of the cupcake display?”

fun facts! —

after the event ended, atsumu and y/n went on that picnic date just in time for sunset while osamu waited awkwardly by the swings

in the end, y/n moved to tokyo after being well liked by chef suzuno

the twins helped y/n pack and osamu even had to pull atsumu off of her cause he wouldn’t let her go 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

because of the long distance, atsumu and y/n go on minecraft dates cause theyre quirky

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smau #atsumu imagines #atsumu scenarios #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #atsumu fluff

1K notes · View notes

the-world-that-was · 3 years ago

Text

Etruscan Aquacotta (jusellum) - The World That Was

Today, I'll be making a simple bread-based soup - referred to as juscellum by Apicius! It's a lot like Tuscan "aquacotta" soup, which is prepared in a similar way - though today it often includes tomatoes, which would not have been available in antiquity.

youtube

And now let’s take a look at The World That Was! Follow along with my YouTube video above!

Ingredients

1 onion 1 carrot 1 stick celery 3 cloves garlic thyme 2 slices bread (torn or grated) 2 eggs 750ml chicken stock olive oil salt pepper

Method

1 - Chop Ingredients To begin with, we need to chop and dice an onion. You don't need to worry about being too careful here, as they'll soften up considerably while its cooking. Peel and dice a carrot or two - carrots and parsnips were considered to be the same vegetable to the Greeks and Romans, so either one works well here! Finally, deal with some celery by slicing it thinly.

2 - Sautee and Cook Toss a bit of olive oil into a pot, and place this over a medium heat. When it's shimmering, toss in your onions, carrots, and crush a few crushed cloves of garlic. Let this sauté away for about 10 minutes.

When it's finished sautéing, pour in 500ml worth of water or chicken stock. On top of this, toss some chopped thyme Place your soup over a high heat, and bring it to a rolling boil. When it hits a boil, turn the heat down to low and let it simmer away for 30 minutes.

3 - Prepare Soup and Eggs While your soup is cooking, go rip up some slices into large chunks. Alternatively, you could grate up dried bread into a powder. Toss your bread into the soup about 10 minutes before you're serving it, along with your parsley.

About 5 minutes before you serve up your soup, place some eggs into the pot and let them hard-boil.

4 - Assemble Soup In a serving bowl, ladle in some of your soup, and place your poached egg on top of this. Garnish with a little fresh herb. And serve up warm!

The finished soup is very filling and flavourful - along with looking very colourful when finished! It's quick and simple to make, which would have made it popular with the lower, poorer classes in ancient Roman and Etruscan societies - as this dish can be made using ingredients that are going off (such as stale or mouldy bread). It can be adjusted using seasonal vegetables and herbs, along with different kinds of eggs that would provided different taste profiles.

86 notes · View notes

hooniee · 4 years ago

Text

— ꒰‧⁺paris run away *ೃ༄

↷ heeseung x reader ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷genre: fluff | comdey ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ warnings: not proofread | none! ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ synopsis: (y/n) just graduates from high school and feel incomplete but doesn’t know what’s missing. a trip to paris might be able to fix that ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ author note: this is @enhypenwriters event of the month! strangers to lovers <3 i think this was my favorite to write out of the three pieces but i feel like it’s lacking some flare :( i think it still turned out okay though. i hope you enjoy <3 ⋯ ♡ᵎ

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*

you should have listened to sunoo when he said that it wasn't a good plan to travel to a foreign country on impulse.

you wouldn’t say you’ve ever been the most courageous person in your life. determined to break that trend, you planned this super out of the blue trip without much thought.

yeah. maybe this was a bit TOO courageous.

you didn't comprehend what compelled you yet here you were, arriving at paris charles de gaulle airport.

you stared at the large windows of the airport, viewing the plane that you had just left.

the gate for the concluding passengers had been locked by the flight stewardesses.

one of the stewardesses obtained eye contact with you, before shooting a smile and lightly bowing her head.

you absentmindedly returned the gesture, mind elsewhere.

bustling throughout the airport were people hurrying to their connecting flight or slumping into their lover's arms

people carried two or more suitcases with various bags strapped on their bodies, nothing on you besides a petite sling purse and one small carry on suitcase.

as weaved your way through the mass of stressed travelers, you briefly thought to yourself

how the hell did you get here?

2 days earlier

clusters of kids outfitted in blue gowns and caps could be recognized a mile away.

the graduation from high school to university.

your friend minji encloses her arm around your shoulder, your arm resting on her waist.

minji’s mom was stood in front of the both of you, gesturing wildly as she tried to take the ‘perfect graduation photo’ as she had put it

"okay pose! get a little closer, perfect. 1, 2, 3" your friend's mom counts.

the camera shudders which creates a beaming light to flash, eyes faintly twitching.

shrieks could be heard throughout the campus as girls queued up to take their final photographs with the popular guys.

minji's mom draws back the camera and we check the picture.

"it's cute," minji exclaims, peering at it a bit more closer. you nod your head in approval.

you would miss minji, one of the friends you could constantly count on in math class when you neglected to do your homework from binging korean dramas.

"i'll send you the picture later (y/n)! don't forget about me alright? you have my socials and you can always talk to me," minji grasps your hands

you smile, feeling sad at the departure of your best friend, "of course minji, don't forget me either"

"i could never," she brings you into a secure hug.

"sweet pea perfume," you say and she chuckles. sweat pea was minji's preferred perfume and you would miss that aroma.

"i have to go now, but i'll see you around okay?" minji says.

you could notice tears well up in her eyes and she fans her eyes to prevent the tears.

"don't cry ji, i'll start crying," you joked. "i live near here and you can always visit me! my door will always be open."

she smiled, "the same goes for you." her mother shouts her name before she has to go.

"alright, see you around," you wave to her as she leaves.

on the opposite side of the garden, your mom signals to you with your bouquet of red roses in hand.

"are you ready honey?" she asks you and you smile, nodding your head.

the car ride was in pleasant quietness, light radio music fluttering in. you had taken off your cap and laid it in the car seat next to you accompanying with your bouquet.

you had glimpsed outside to see your campus still arranged with your classmates, beaming and posing for additional pictures.

you bitterly smiled.

for the first time, graduation didn't appear like one of those liberating scenes of a movie,

1 day ago

you sprawled on his bed, staring straight up. a fan in your hand, fanning the perspiration that threatened to come.

your eyes match the fan's speed directly above your neighbor and best friend, sunoo's, bed.

his air conditioner was broken. with the avail of those elementary paper fans and the only fan stationed in the house, you were able to find comfort

you questioned if he ever got frightened of it dropping on him when he slept.

sunoo occupies the bathroom that's joined to his room, applying some light powder.

your mind strays, more thoughts simmering in the back of your brain. you sigh for the 10th time and sunoo being exasperated, allows out a loud groan.

it draws you out of your daze and you snap your head towards him."

"what is with you? what is on your mind sunshine?" he shuts his cushion, flinging himself on the bed.

"are you ever scared of the fan falling on you?" you felt the bed dip

"no, it's been like that for years, and don't change the subject. what's wrong?" sunoo retorted

"what makes you say that? i'm fine, " you answer

"uh-huh," sunoo rolls his eyes

it's the blatant eye-roll rather than the hushed one, he implied business

"you've been sighing for the past ten minutes, spill," sunoo says

of course, sunoo could recognize your distress. what sort of best friend would he be if he couldn't distinguish your emotions?

you huff, " okay then"

"i don't know why but i just feel stuck? i just graduated high school and nothing feels different, i mean it doesn't have to, but what do i do now? maybe i just watched too many movies"

sunoo tsked, " (y/n). sweetie, i graduated last year and i'm still stuck here. i do nothing besides go out or stay in my room. no in-between."

"but you have something sunoo. you have a bunch of your friends, you're an instagram star and i don't know, it's just different, "

it was accurate, sunoo was extremely popular. he had a bunch of friends and acquaintances from being the vice president.

sunoo inflated up on social media for his content from makeup to dance practices, a versatile instagram star.

you conceal your face with your hands before emitting a loud groan.

sunoo remarks, "i don't know how i can help you (y/n)? maybe you should try to rest a bit"

"easy for you to say, you, who isn’t dealing with a mid-life crisis, " you whine.

"this isn't a mid-life crisis, this is a post-graduation crisis which is totally normal. how about going out of town? obviously not to paris or whatever but maybe, what was her name again? minjoo's town!" sunoo suggested.

"obviously not to paris"

"not to paris"

"to paris"

"paris"

what about paris? paris was considerably away from your town and had a ring on the tip of your tongue.

you had sprung up, grasping sunoo by the shoulder and shaking him, "you're a genius sunoo! paris is a genius idea."

sunoo's eyes widen and he shakes his head while attempting to pry your hands off of him.

"no, you have to think rationally-"

you released sunoo from your hold which let him stabilize his spinning head.

"and i am! i need something new. being in this town for my whole life makes me realize, maybe i just need a spontaneous trip. "

your words scarcely blur together, adrenaline rushing through your blood as you understood this could jolt you out of your post-graduation slump.

"but-"

"no buts! pass me my laptop,"

present-day

you are currently disliking your choice, anxiety rushing through your veins, but it's too overdue to have other opinions.

you had landed in france and this was a life-altering moment; a chance of a lifetime.

peering nearby, you squint at the tiny english translations of the signs. you pull out your phone.

you open up the camera to see if zooming in would improve it for your eyes. as if on cue, your stomach rumbles vaguely making you startled.

you panicked as the pocket that was previously supplied with snacks became loaded with empty wrappers.

maybe if you would be lost in this wonderful city, you might as well try some of their famous pastries.

your muscles had retracted, the result of finally getting some movement after being restrained in a metal machine that was adjacent to the fiery sun.

you stumbled across this petite bakery and enter, sparingly bowing your head.

the owner was an older lady with her greying hair that designed it to resemble ashy highlights, pulled into a loose bun.

"que puis-je vous offrir?" she smiles.

"i'm sorry, i don't speak french?" you admit, embarrassed

as much as you assumed duolingo and rosetta stone could benefit you on a flight to paris, the only thing you could accomplish to say without messing up is "bonjour"

"that's fine mademoiselle! what can i offer you?" the lady shifts to englsih

you let out a sigh of relief, appreciative for blundering into this bakery.

"may i have your most popular pastry to go and a water bottle?" you smile, fishing out some euros.

you had looked down to the currency that you had exchanged before embarking on the plane.

"of course mademoiselle!" she says, reaching behind the counter and with her gloved hand, seizing a chocolate croissant.

"that will be 4.12 euros!" she rings you up in the cashier.

"is this the right amount? i'm not very good at counting euros," you revealed your hand where the money was.

she nodded her head and took the money, printing your receipt out. before giving you your receipt, she interviews you with a question that you weren't confident in answering"

"if you don't mind me asking, why are you here in france? not to sound rude! but i'm just curious"

you softly smile, sensing the kindness illuminating from her tone of voice. she wasn't rude at all and she was asking a simple question, but your brain struggled to obtain an answer.

"well, i would say i'm here to explore? i just finished high school and life felt incomplete. my best friend jokingly said "go to paris" and so I booked a ticket."

you look back up at her to see her delicate gaze. the rustling of the paper bag stopped the moment of silence

"that's amazing mademoiselle! france is the city for that. you must visit the notre-dam cathedral while you're here, it's beautiful. and maybe even find some love?"

she winks at you and you engage with a small giggle.

just like the show "emily in paris," you could merely fantasize about living a life like hers but it was an altered universe. she was an employed woman and you; a fresh graduate from high school.

"maybe! but i'm not looking forward to dating right now"

it wasn't a lie nor the truth. you would love to date someone right now but dating someone from a foreign country with a language barrier? not the most desirable idea. the owner laughs, handing you your pastry and water bottle.

"thank you for dropping by here mademoiselle! please enjoy your time in france,"

"merci beaucoup" you stumbled out, providing a small wave out.

the airport seemed to be more crowded than before. slowly opening the wrapping, you take a bite of the chocolate croissant and let out an audible gasp.

unquestionably, one of the greatest pastries you have tried in your life.

you promptly pull out your phone, snapping a picture for your instagram story. it was an adorable picture with the bakery in the background with the chocolate croissant in hand.

with "just landed" as your caption, you posted it to your close friends story. almost a second later, sunoo request to video call you.

you were welcomed by a piercing shriek into the phone.

"YAH I WAS JUST GREETED BY YOUR PARENTS WHO SAID YOU WERE AT A SLEEPOVER FOR A COUPLE DAYS? SLEEPOVER MY FOOT? YOU'RE IN PARIS-"

sunoo screeches over the phone and you timidly grimace, turning down the volume as people begin to stare.

"sunoo, i'm currently in a public airport with no earbuds plugged in, can you please STOP screaming?" you whispered audibly to him.

"OH, I FORG- sorry," sunoo sheepishly responds.

"my parents would never let me go this far so i just had to lie that i was going to a sleepover at minji's house which is out of town. plus i'm only going to be here for two days," you consult him.

"you saw me buy the tickets sunoo. why are you scolding me now? shouldn't you have tried to stop me while i was in the middle of buying the tickets?" you added.

"well now i want you to come back, who am i supposed to hang out with for the next 2 days?"

though it was dark in the setting sunoo was in, you could practically see his pouting face.

"you could hang out with jake? or sunghoon? aren't they both your friends?"

jake and sunghoon went to the same school as sunoo and you're buddies with them. you've known each other since middle school but jake and sunghoon were always closer to each other just like you and sunoo.

"jake and sunghoon hyung are busy on a vacation together in the bahamas"

you stifled a laugh in, "good luck being alone for the next two days."

"not funny (y/n)! besides that point, what if you get caught?"

"don't worry, i won't get caught because you're the only one who knows about this .as long as you don't rat me out sunoo," you scowl at him.

"i won't, i won't, i promise but you have to buy me something? deal?”

you roll your eyes, "deal mr. sunoo-shi, i have to go now. i need to try to find my hotel"

"be safe, love you!"

"i will! love you too"

you sulk after the call ends. without your best friend on your side, you felt a little feeble and lost but it's not time to be pondering like that.

paris awaits and you couldn't linger at the airport the whole day.

first challenge

getting to your hotel was a struggling. wandering around a city with no basis of the language besides "hello" and "thank you so much", didn't do enough for you.

first, you had to find a taxi that could converse in english. most people had turned you down as you couldn't speak french.

thankfully, it was a fortunate day and you met this kind lady who had coffee-colored curly locks, gentle chocolate eyes, and light freckles scattered around her face.

"do you speak english?" you crisscrossed your fingers, your legs close to giving out after scrambling for taxi drivers

"yeah, i do mademoiselle! would you like to hop in?" she extended a friendly smile and you had never felt bricks lift off your chest faster.

she opened the back of the taxi and you scouted in, permitting your purse to lay on your lap.

the women examined both directions of the road, looking out for passing cars and entered the driver's seat.

"where are you heading mademoiselle?"

you swiftly pull out your phone to your notes, "hotel le walt paris?"

you corked your eyebrow, making sure it was the right name before she nodded her head.

"a very famous hotel huh? right near the eiffel tower. i recommend that you wait till it gets dark and sit on the balcony to see the eiffel tower with lights. it's beautiful"

you smiled at the kind words of the lady, "i will surely try that! thank you miss..?"

"elena! elena is fine and you mademoiselle?"

"i'm (y/n)"

"it's nice to meet you"

"likewise"

the entire ride, you felt at some peace finally conversing with someone who understood english,

after a 30 minute drive, you had arrived at your destination.

feeling a sad departure from this mellow woman, who turned out to be 19 seeking to make some pocket money in the summer, she was one of the first people that you had grown connected with throughout this ride.

"elena, though it was a short time, thank you for keeping company"

you present her with a warm smile as she unlocks the door for you. you exit the taxi, clasping at your phone.

"here, give me your phone."

you softly planted it in elena's hand. you were perplexed about why she showed you your home screen until you realized you had a password.

you enter your password, giving it back to her. she did a bit of clicking and you could see her hands typing something in before returning the phone back to you.

"that's my instagram, stay in contact with me alright?"

you felt the sides of your lips curve into a slight smile. you dragged her into a soft hug.

"thank you elena"

she visibly hesitant before easing into the hug. she softly rubbed your back.

"i have to go, i might get fired if i stay here too long"

you bided her a fare-well. thirty minutes was an extended time to get a know a person.

and that was the first friend you met in france.

second challenge

checking into your hotel wasn't as difficult. most people could speak english and besides the uncanny looks that you received from the clerk, check-in was pretty smooth.

"here you are mademoiselle" the bellman lowers your suitcase in front of your hotel door.

"merci beaucoup," you smile and he returns the gesture before leaving you.

you look down in your hand where you are grasping the card tightly. you scan the card against the door meter and it flickers twice.

red, green

the door clicks before you push on it and reveal your hotel room.

at first glance, your mouth dropped.

the hotel room seemed better than it did on the online photographs which was a rare possibility.

though it was a small room, it was renovated beautifully.

overhead the king-sized bed, there was an extensive painting of the eiffel tower. a blue chair that held a place directly by the bed along with a little wooden table.

the hotel was fine but you definitely weren't

"(y/n) shut down in,"

"3"

"2"

"1"

before thinking, you throw yourself on the bed having the jet-lag kicking in. the bag offers a 'thump' sound as it connects with the ground.

'ouch that hurt'

you fish through your pocket, pulling out your phone. it was hardly twelve pm and you were already fatigued.

what was your strategy? you were in france for two days and you don't have a plan to do anything.

first things first, you needed to sort out this jet-lag.

1) taking a shower

showers are always a great way to awaken and could shake you from this daze. you endured a scream as your water turned to be ice cold. someone must be utilizing the hot water. that shower unmistakably woke you up

2) skincare

after getting out of the shower, skincare was the secondary way to wake up. cleansing with toner, dropping essence into the skin, and implementing a nice coat of moisturizer to lock-in.

3) fueling with food

food can beat anybody out of slumber if they're fueled with enthusiasm but you didn't have any food on you? that indicates it's time to go out and explore france.

unfastening up your suitcase, you drabble on what you can wear.

reconciling with a simple pair of denim shorts and a light pink tank top, you catch a fast mirror selfie.

being content with the ultimate product, you smile to yourself.

"phone, key, wallet," you whispered, securing the thoughts of having everything.

everything was arranged to go and it was time to tour paris.

third challenge

cruising through paris would be by notably the toughest challenge while you were here.

you had your phone to navigate solely with wifi and you couldn't be that favorable to be able to meet people who could speak english all the time.

you had entered a small restaurant, where you worked to communicate with people in defective french but they moderately understood what you wanted.

after that fiasco trying to order a chicken frricassee, you were able to appreciate your time there along with sending a picture to sunoo who reacted with,

"can that be the souvenir you bring back to me TT?"

you chuckled at the message, knowing typical sunoo, and finished up eating.

eating wasn't the one exclusive thing available in france. there were various activities but you were too afraid to venture any future for the hotel. getting lost too was easy.

that being said, eating after eating all you could do was roam around the city. it was around 2pm and you could spot a diverse crowd of people.

you could see kids. in uniforms that just got out of school or a cute couple that was experiencing their date.

you slightly squint and cover your eyes as the sun is at its highest point.

yes, paris was lovely and you would prefer to travel more but but you didn’ toriginally have a plan

for a couple of hours, you completed wandering around the area where your hotel is. you wished at moments like this that you would have jungwon, sunoo's friend, with you to help navigate you.

jungwon was also a friend you guys met in middle school but he went to your school. very mature for his age and great at preparation.

before you knew it, the sun had died down and it was time to retreat to the hotel.

'ah right! elena told me to look out at the eiffel tower as it gets darker'

you softly tread back to your hotel, observing the blisters at the back of your foot.

you could clearly sense the entire day of walking take a toll on your body.

you scan your key card and fling your bag to the floor as soon as you get inside. you open up your suitcase to change into suitable sleeping clothes.

you briskly cleansed your face and tied your hair back.

you had approached the balcony, guessing how to cautiously open the glass door.

you gradually shift the handle to the right and the door made a scanty creek. you gingerly put more stress on it, opening the balcony wide.

a distinct gasp could be heard from you.

subsequently taking a step onto your balcony, the frail breeze made you quiver in the long black tee that adorned your top half and the sweatpants that settled on your waist.

the balcony was small, barely able to move besides staying still.

you had peered to your right, glancing at the eiffel tower.

elena was correct. the eiffel tower was breath-taking at night. for the first time when landing in france, you could feel in harmony. below you was a crowded street.

it was only 8 pm yet you could feel your eyes droop as opposed to the bouncy pair of kids that ran through the moobs of people.

the radiant yellowish glow of the eiffel tower was able to save you from dozing off. you softly hum 'fly me to the moon,'

'fly me to the moon,' didn't have significance, it felt appropriate in the second.

you hadn't regarded it but a figure had gently peeked out of the other balcony, attentively listening to the silky melody that you were humming.

"nice song"

a voice interrupts and your humming had come to a halt, eyes widened.

you had turned to the origin of the voice and discovered the culprit

the balcony alongside you.

"thank you"

you glanced over, granting him a slight smile before he returns it.

"new to paris?"

he questioned, now you guys facing each other.

"yeah, just arrived this morning, and you?"

you asked before he softly smiles.

"not really, i've been here multiple times but the feeling is something i'll get used too."

you hum as a response

"how did you know to speak english to me? do i really act like a foriegner?"

you were growing more drowsy but this stranger was fascinating. who else could say they met someone and talked to them from a balcony romance?

"english song, random guess"

you nodded your head, not certain if he could see you but that was all you could muster up.

there grows stillness beside the bustling street below until the stranger breaks it.

"i know this sounds weird but since you're new here, would you like to go out with me tomorrow to travel the city?"

that question felt like ice water was just splashed onto your face. the proposal startled you.

the stranger didn't appear like a bad person. been to paris varied times, can acknowledge good music and good at conversation.

as much as this stranger flatter you, how could you trust him?

"as much as i would love to, how do i know that you're not trying to kidnap me, even worse, kill me?"

he stifles a laugh.

"hey knock it off, this is a very serious question, balcony boy"

you snicker, desiring to know the answer than anticipated.

"i promise you that i won't try to kidnap OR kill you. i'm just offering and you can even pat me down before we go out together."

this was by far one of the most peculiar offers you had received but this was THE stranger offer you came to france seeking.

you know sunoo would not advocate for numerous reasons and you can hear his voice already

"number one, dangerous"

"number two, dangerous!"

"number three, DANGEROUS!"

but sunoo isn't here right now. you chose to grab the opportunity. france had provided you luck today.

"alright then"

a moment of silence goes by before you hear him clearing his throat.

"you're serious right?"

he glances at you and your eyes lock. though you can't see that well due to the absence of light, you nod.

the eiffel tower gave you enough light that you could make our curious eyes, tall nose, fair skin that radiated in the soft lighting, and full lips that were curved into a smile

"i'll see you at the lobby at eight,"

next morning

to say you were nervous was an understatement, you were terrified. you agreed to a stranger who claimed to know paris like the back of his palm. you met him off your balcony and now you were agreeing to go a date with him?

"you must be out of your mind!" sunoo exclaimed through the phone.

"well yes i must have been at 8 pm last night when fatigue was hitting the hardest but how can i say no now?"

"i don't know maybe, I DON'T KNOW YOU STRANGER DANGER?" sunoo shouts

and like you foretold last night, sunoo was not a big supporter of this idea. over the course of fifteen minutes, you had been continuously scolded by him.

you cringe, " sunoo, i promise that i'll be fine. i just need you to help me pick out an outfit"

sunoo rolls his eyes, "what are your options?"

though sunoo wasn't supportive of this, he couldn't let you go on a date without style.

you held up two choices; a blue floral dress that settled to your mid-thigh and a pink tennis skirt with a white cami shirt.

"well do we like this guy or do we like LIKE this guy?" sunoo questioned.

"what- well i literally met him last night? so i don't even like him, we're just going out for this one day since he offered"

"uh-huh, then the blue floral dress, it's hot there right?" sunoo says

"super hot," you groan.

you glance at the time, 7:00 am.

"i have to start getting ready sunoo, i'll update you later alright?" you smile

"alright, try not to get killed but have fun too! love you"

"love you too," you say back before hanging up.

you quickly hop in the shower and make sure to not take too long.

doing skincare, putting on the outfit, and spraying a little bit of perfume, you are ready to head out the door.

one last check to make sure you have all the things.

7:58 am

you quickly head down to see several people in the lobby.

a bellman, a pair of teenage girls who seemed like they were dragged here, a couple around the mid-40s trying to check-in, and a teenage boy that rested on one of the lobby seats.

it was evident who the balcony boy was but you just called out to be safe.

"balcony boy," you say.

the teenage boy that was seated turns around before flashing you a smile.

"miss singer,"

you airly chuckle at the nickname.

observing him in person was a lot different. you could see his long body proportion, bright eyes, sharp jawline, with fair skin that complimented his rich brown hair.

a distinct experience from seeing him on the balcony.

"i'm (y/n)! and you?" you ask

"i'm lee heeseung"

63 notes · View notes

snelbz · 4 years ago

Text

The Ranch {5}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @tacmc x @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty

The air was thick in the kitchen as Nesta stirred the sauce she was simmering in the skillet on the stove top. It was her secret recipe, one that won her the hearts of many overseas.

Feyre was seated at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of wine, staring daggers into Nesta’s back.

Nesta could feel her sister’s stare and she didn’t want to turn around to meet it.

Elain was supposed to be there.

She was running late.

“So,” Nesta began, clearing her throat. “I’m glad you came.”

Feyre said nothing.

Nesta stared into the skillet. “I plan to have a reopening for the B&B. Hopefully near the end of the summer. I was hoping you and Lainy could help.”

Still nothing.

Nesta’s jaw clenched as she dumped a stack of noodles into a pot on the back burner before turning over the breaded chicken on a separate burner.

She could keep trying, but she would only be wasting her breath. Feyre and her hadn’t talked for years, Nesta knew it would be rough. But, she couldn’t live in Velaris without trying to reconnect with the only family she had left, which was why she had invited her sisters over for dinner.

If only Elain would hurry the fuck up.

Nesta reached for her own glass of wine and took a full swallow, turning and staring out the window.

She’d taken to cooking in the main house with its gorgeous up-to-date kitchen. It was the best way for her to still have a little piece of her old life. But the only problem with that meant that she couldn’t get away from him.

And as she gazed out over the pastures, the sun setting on the other side of the farm, she caught sight of his tanned, inked, muscular back as he led his horse back down towards the stables.

He’d shown up at the main house the day after their conversation, asking to talk to her. He had been almost bashful and seemed apologetic, but she’d barely slept the night before.

The last thing he’d said before he’d walked out kept repeating in her mind.

And to think I thought your own sister was wrong about you.

Nesta sighed, not meaning for it to be quite as dramatic as it was, and took another drink of her wine.

“So what made you decide not to fuck him?”

Nesta stilled, wine glass still lingering in front of her open lips. She cleared her throat, “What?”

“Cassian’s more open with Rhys and Az than you are with your own sisters,” Feyre said, hostility lacing her tone. “And, contrary to popular belief, he’s not the best at keeping his feelings hidden.”

Nesta slowly turned to face her youngest sister. She was sitting at the table, golden-brown hair high in a pony-tail. Her arms were crossed, her chin raised high, those gray-blue eyes that mirrored her own full of distaste.

“That’s none of your business,” Nesta replied, shortly.

Feyre scoffed, shaking her head. “You wanted me to come over so we could start over. Well, I’m here, and I’m asking questions. You’re not off to a very good start in mending our relationship.”

Nesta wanted so badly to tell Feyre to fuck off, to get out, but she knew it was just the sudden rise in emotion talking. As her body filled with discomfort, Nesta turned back to the stove, nodding slowly.

She continued to stir her homemade sauce as it simmered.

“It wasn’t right,” Nesta said, simply, words clipped. “I was drunk and got carried away.”

Feyre snorted. “Blame it on the alcohol-.”

“I was as drunk as I was because my sister slapped me in front of a fucking bar full of people,” Nesta snapped.

Feyre kept silent, and Nesta didn’t dare look back over her shoulder. It was true - true enough, anyway. Nesta had deserved to get slapped, no matter what she had told herself up until that point. But, it didn’t erase the fact that it left her embarrassed in a room full of people and shamed among her own family and friends - if they could even be considered friends, which, Nesta was pretty sure they couldn’t.

“I’m sorry I slapped you,” Feyre said, at last, “but, I’m not going to apologize for being pissed.”

Nesta nodded, curtly, staring into the skillet.

A minute passed before Feyre asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

This time, Nesta did look over her shoulder, brow raised.

With tight lips, Feyre shrugged. “I’m trying too.”

After a deep breath, Nesta decided that she should take the opportunity while it presented itself. If she didn’t, the opportunity might not come again.

“He intrigued me,” Nesta began.

Feyre snorted. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”

Shaking her head, Nesta leaned back against the counter top. “It wasn’t just the alcohol. Maybe some of it, but he did….I was intrigued. He’s handsome, obviously, and he was being kind. And we were alone, and I haven’t been alone with a handsome man in a long time, Feyre. But, then it all started, and I… Everything came back to me.” Her voice had become hushed, and she was staring at her crossed arms, at her index finger drawing circles around a freckle on her elbow. “The last time I was with a man was in college, and everyone knows how that turned out - including, apparently, Cassian, judging by the self loathing in his eyes when he tried to come in here to talk to me this afternoon.”

To Nesta’s surprise, some of the tension faded from Feyre’s shoulders and her eyes softened. “Cassian is a good guy, Nesta.”

“I’m his boss,” Nesta said. “Nothing good ever comes from that.”

“He does this work so he can keep his house and do something he loves,” Feyre began, cocking her head to the side as she watched her sister. Nesta felt bare and vulnerable beneath that gaze. “He makes the money he lives off of elsewhere. You’re hardly his boss.”

Nesta disagreed, but she kept the comment to herself. Instead, she asked, “What does he do?”

Feyre hesitated. “That’s not my information to give out.” There wasn’t any rudeness to her voice, just fact.

Nesta tried to keep the frustration from her tone, but the small laugh that left her sounded bitter even to her own ears. “Yeah, all I keep getting told is that it isn’t illegal, and with all the secrecy, I’m starting to wonder.”

Feyre sighed. “Does he seem like the type to sell drugs, Nes?”

Nes.

Hearing the familiar nickname from her baby sister’s lips melted whatever ice had hardened between them at the change in subject and Nesta turned, sitting down in the barstool next to Feyre.

“We should...talk,” Nesta said, carefully.

Feyre, eyes wary, took another drink of her wine. Nesta could practically see the shields raising again. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

“I know, we are, but I just-.” Nesta sighed. “We need to talk about me leaving.” Feyre clearly wasn’t expecting her to bring it up so directly, because she physically flinched. Nesta pressed on. “We need to talk about why I left, and how you felt, and what exactly happened. It’s been almost ten years. We’re big girls now, and I-.” Nesta hesitated again. “I want my baby sister back…”

Feyre’s eyes, the twin to Nesta’s own, softened and she opened her mouth to reply, but the back door burst open.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Elain said, eyes darting between them both, a look of sheer panic on her face.

Feyre looked at Elain, at their sweet sister who was so concerned with their relationship, who just wanted to see her sisters back to normal, and turned back to Nesta. A soft smile graced her lips. “Let’s get coffee one day this week.”

Nesta nodded, a breath leaving her body as she said, “Okay.”

“What did I miss?” Elain asked, pulling out the stool next to Feyre’s.

“Everything,” Feyre assured her.

Elain frowned as she sat. “Even the Cassian thing?” she whispered, even though she was fully aware that Nesta was sitting right there and could hear perfectly clearly.

Feyre grinned as Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, and I’m not repeating any of it.”

Nesta pushed herself out of the chair and went back to the stovetop. Behind her, Feyre said, “We’ll blame Azriel, I assume it’s his fault you’re late.”

Elain’s cheeks had reddened when Nesta turned back around. “He came home on his break. He works late tonight.”

“Thought you both had the day off?” Nesta asked, reaching up into the cupboard for a mix of seasonings and spices.

Elain sighed. “Low man on the totem pole once more. They had two mechanics call out, so they needed him to come in and cover.” Feyre poured her a glass of wine and she nodded her thanks before taking a healthy sip. “On the plus side, it’s all overtime. So, we’ll take it.”

“Was Az hammered when he got home last night?” Feyre asked.

Elain snorted. “No, but he smelled like a frat house.”

“Rhys did, too!” Feyre laughed. “I made him shower before he could get back in bed.”

The two girls giggled and Nesta couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. At the familiarity, at the ease of conversation, not just about their relationships, but with each other.

All at once, Nesta was hit with just everything she’d missed.

She felt guilty, as she had a thousand times before, but it was different now, being with them as they chatted about their lives. Meanwhile, Nesta didn’t know Rhysand or Azriel, didn’t know anything about either of her sisters' relationships - just that they were in relationships with good men.

She cleared her throat and turned. She smiled and said, “Dinner is ready. Help yourselves and I hope you enjoy.” Both Feyre and Elain looked at her with their brows raised. “What?” She asked.

Elain said, “That was so…”

“Formal,” Feyre finished for her.

Nesta chuckled. “I’ve been cooking for prime ministers and dukes and millionaire CEOs. It’s a habit.”

Nesta felt a little lighter as her sisters grabbed a plate and filled them high. Once she had her own, Nesta sat with them at the table and asked, “So, tell me about Rhys. He proposed? How?”

“In our backyard,” Feyre said, chuckling as she swallowed a mouthful of pasta. “Holy shit, this is delicious.”

“Thanks,” Nesta said, grinning, “Now continue.”

“Right,” Feyre began, setting down her fork and clapping her hands together. “In our backyard, which may not seem very romantic, but I definitely sobbed. I got home from work and I could hear him playing in the backyard, he’s a musician. Well, in his free time, anyway. So, I follow the music to the backyard and he has the porch lit up with string lights. He was already down on one knee, playing his guitar, then he started singing. I was crying before the song was even finished, and it was a full on ugly cry by the time he asked me to marry him.”

Nesta chewed, slowly, eyebrows raised. “That’s incredibly romantic.”

Elain just rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. “That’s the story we all hear, anyway, but we’ve known Rhys for a long time….”

Feyre laughed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Azriel swears it’s all made up,” Elain said, piling her fork high with noodles. “He swears Rhys doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”

“Either way,” Feyre went on, “it happened and Azriel and Cassian have given him shit since. They also beg to hear the song he wrote that he sang when he proposed, but that would only force them to give him more shit.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “He sounds great. Rhys.”

“He is,” Feyre said, eyes growing soft as she took another bite.

“And Azriel?” Nesta asked, turning her attention to Elain.

“He’s great.” Elain said, smiling, repeating what Nesta had just said.

“I know he’s great, but tell me about him.” Nesta laughed. “I have ten years of things to catch up on.”

Feyre blinked a few times and said, “You really don’t remember any of them, do you?”

Nesta blushed. “I don’t. I feel awful, but…” She sighed. “You both know how I was in high school. I paid no attention to the people around me unless they were you two-.”

“Or Tomas Mandray?” Feyre cautiously asked.

Nesta’s teeth clacked together as her jaw hardened.

Before she could respond, Elain said, “I think there may be a few yearbooks in my closet. Let me look!”

“Please, don’t-.”

But Elain was already hurrying up the stairs, to her old bedroom, where her stuff was stored in a stack of tubs in the closet. Nesta let out a long breath as Feyre, completely humored, continued to eat her pasta.

Elain had come back down the stairs a minute later, the yearbook from Nesta’s senior year held tightly against her chest.

“Okay,” she said, sitting back on her stool, plate forgotten for a moment. She flipped through the pages, to where the freshmen were listed, and displayed Feyre’s picture proudly.

Nesta laughed as Feyre groaned. “Bangs were not my thing.”

“I thought they looked cute,” Elain grinned, turning the page. “Ah, and here is Rhys, before he got all bulky and tattooed.”

Nesta looked at the picture closely and huffed a laugh. “Ten years did him well.”

Feyre didn’t disagree.

Elain flipped through the book and a wide grin spread across her lips as she pointed to Azriel.

“He wears glasses?” Nesta asked.

“Contacts,” Elain said, nodding. “He doesn’t like his glasses.”

“I think they’re cute,” Feyre said, perching her chin on her fist atop the table as they all looked through the book. “Especially on prepubescent Az.”

Nesta snorted as Elain flipped to the next page. “Ah, here’s Cassian.”

Nesta took a good look at the boy on the page. She could tell it was him, he was definitely familiar, but she didn’t remember him from then. His hair was a lot shorter, not at all close to the shoulder-length it was now. His face was clean, he probably couldn’t even grow facial hair then. But those hazel eyes were still full of mischief, even at seventeen as he stared into the camera.

She didn’t remember any of them, though.

She had been too busy living in her own little world.

The back door to the kitchen swung open, and as if he had known she’d been thinking of him, Cassian entered through the doorway.

He paused, hand still on the doorknob, as three sets of eyes shot his direction. Nesta’s heart began to thump wildly against her chest.

His chest, however, was bare, as Nesta assumed was the norm, and glistening with sweat. His hair was shoved back, tied behind his head.

He blinked, and cleared his throat, “Uh, sorry. I just...was going to grab a bottle of water.”

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” Feyre asked, no doubt, Nesta assumed, trying to break the tension.

She could hear the cheeky response before he said it, knew it would be something that would rag on her little sister as if she were his own. She’d bet, at this point, she practically was.

Instead of saying anything though, he pulled open the larger of the two fridge doors, and grabbed a couple of cold bottles of water. His eyes fell on the six pack in the door and as he turned, his eyes caught Nesta’s.

She couldn’t describe the emotions she saw roiling inside. Regret. Shame. Sadness. Anger. Frustration. Longing.

He looked like he wanted to say something, looked like he was going to ask her to talk. Nesta opened her mouth, to ask to do just that when he turned and said, “I’ll start on the stables tomorrow,” and left the kitchen without another word.

“So…” Elain said, sliding the yearbook to the middle of the kitchen table. “You want to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

Nesta stood, taking her still near full plate and scraping the contents into the trash, walking to the sink as she said, “Nothing. There’s nothing going on between us. He’s a ranch hand and I own the ranch.”

She didn’t turn as she turned on the water and began rinsing the plate.

There was a pause. “Doesn’t mean you two can’t be on friendly terms, right? I mean...that was…”

Elain’s words faded away, but then Feyre supplied, “Awkward as shit.”

“Yeah…” Elain muttered.

“That’s not necessary,” Nesta said, opening the dishwasher and putting the plate inside. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to her, didn’t feel the need to discuss what happened that night, or the day before when she blew up at him in the kitchen.

Which, she shouldn’t have. She threatened to take away a job he loved, the home he lived in, and that wasn’t fair, no matter how pissed and mortified she was.

“So, you’re just going to go along working together, and every time you’re in the same room, that’s going to happen?” Feyre asked.

Nesta sighed, her face falling into her hands, her elbows leaning on the counter. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

Elain had hopped off her stool and was walking up behind her big sister. “Cassian’s a reasonable guy, Nesta. He obviously feels just as awkward about it all as you do. You should talk to him.”

She would rather stab herself in the eye.

Although, if she did that, she couldn’t see him riding through the pastures without a shirt on, and that would be a damned shame.

“I don’t know,” Nesta sighed, leaning her hip against the counter and crossing her arms. “We both said some pretty bad stuff. I mean, sure, I want a civil relationship, especially if he’s going to work for me. Sure, I wish I could take some of the things I said back. Sure, I-.” Sure, I’d love to see if the rest of him is as delicious bare as his chest is.

The final thought slammed through her, and she cleared her throat before she could voice it out loud. “The point is, not only did I say some stuff out of line, but so did he and-.”

“And he came and apologized.” Feyre said, looking at her as she refilled her wine glass. “Can you say the same?”

Yes, she should apologize, but she really, really didn’t want to. “Apologizing has never been a strength of mine,” she muttered.

Neither sister said a word.

Nesta groaned, again. “I don’t know-.”

“Bring him a beer,” Feyre suggested, taking a sip from her wine glass. “Beer is his love language. Oh, or whiskey. Yeah. Do that if you’ve got it. A nice bottle of whiskey goes a long way with that one. But do that later, you’ve got the beer now.”

“I can’t-.”

“Come,” Elain said, pulling on Nesta’s hand, dragging her toward the backdoor.

“I can’t!” she yelled, trying to pull her hand away.

Elain rolled her eyes, but now Feyre was standing in front of the backdoor, arms crossed.

“Cassian is one of our closest friends, we can’t have the two of you bringing that shit into our circle,” Feyre grinned. “Lainy, fix her boobs.”

“My wh- Elain!” Nesta cried, as Elain fixed her bra so that her breasts were pushed up, peeking out from her tank top.

“What?” Feyre blinked. “Beer and boobs. Two things you’ll have that Cassian can’t stay mad at.”

“I’m not going out there,” Nesta protested.

“Yes, you are,” Elain went on, hands on her hips. “And you’re going to apologize, because you want to, and because you should. And, because we want you back in our lives, Nesta...and Cassian is a big part of our lives. He’s a good man. Things need to be set straight, and made right.”

Feyre held up a can of beer from the fridge, where she was slowly walking back from. “The beer of peace.”

Nesta decided that Feyre was a little tipsy if she was being this nice, no matter how much progress they had made that evening. Either that, or she knew Nesta apologizing would be a disaster and she wanted to watch the show.

“This is a conversation the two of us need to have by ourselves, I’ll stop by his cabin later-.”

“No, I don’t trust that one bit,” Elain said. “I won’t believe it if I’m not here to witness.”

“I’m the oldest,” Nesta snapped. “I don’t need you two treating me like a fucking child!”

Feyre just grinned wider as Elain looked at her older sister with big, pleading eyes.

“Fine,” Nesta said, the word clipped. “But if I make things worse, I’m coming in here to kick both of your asses.”

“Oh, we’ll be waiting,” Feyre assured her, although Nesta didn’t feel reassurance, whatsoever.

She snatched the beer out of Feyre’s hand, half tempted to shake up the can as she walked out towards the round pen he'd headed for when left. As she approached the half open gate, she glanced down at her chest, and toward the vast expanse of skin, ink and back muscles in front of her as Cassian brushed down one of the horses.

She set the can down on top of one of the fence posts, and listening to Elain and Fayre’s advice, adjusted her bra, lifting her breasts until they were damn near falling out of her top.

She wanted to fix them, to stuff them back down into her tank top, put on a hoodie, go back to the house and crawl in her bed. But even without turning around, she knew that both of her nosy, couldn’t stay in their own business sisters were currently staring out the window at her. And Cassian had noticed her and was heading this way.

Nesta picked up the beer and cleared her throat, stepping through the gate and into the pen.

His boots kicked up the dirt of the pen as he walked towards her, stopping just a few feet away, and Nesta did her best not to watch the bead of sweat that ran between his pecs and towards his abdomen.

She held out the beer. “This is for you.”

Cassian blinked. “Is it cold?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Does it matter?”

He huffed a laugh, although it didn’t meet his eyes. He walked closer to her, then, and took the can from her outstretched hand, just as Nesta leaned into the railing.

As he popped the can open, his eyes had stopped on her overly-exposed breasts. They lingered, for a second too long, before he brought the can to his lips.

“Thanks,” he said, after a minute.

He turned to walk away but Nesta blurted, “Do you need a hand?”

Cassian froze, one thick eyebrow raised. He slowly looked down at her feet. “You’re barefoot.”

She hadn’t had a second to put on her shoes before her sisters pushed her out the door.

Nesta shrugged. “Daisy’s calm enough.” She looked at the nearly all-white mare that Cassian was brushing. “I’ll be careful not to step in shit.”

Cassian chugged the rest of the can and set it back on the post before saying, “Why are you out here, Nesta? Have I done something else to make you disapprove of me?”

She rolled her eyes, frustration filling her. “I don’t even know why I came out here.” She turned to go back into the house.

“So you run?” Cassian asked, the volume of his voice raising slightly. “When something happens that you don’t like or you can’t control, you run.” Nesta paused where she’d been taking a step to go back to the house. The window where there’d been two nosy heads moments earlier was blessedly empty now. “Apparently you’re real good at it. This is the first time I’ve gotten to see it, you know, since you snuck out while my back was turned last time. But it seems to be your go to.”

Nesta had turned back to him, not speaking, just letting him get whatever this was off of his chest.

“What are you going to do when you decide you want to run from the ranch again, Nesta? Huh? Cause you’re coming out here, offering your help, tits out, no shoes, but I don’t even think you know the first thing about this place. What are you going to do when you have to help me bury a still born calf at four in the morning? What about when we have another year where we have to burn the entire field of crops?”

He grabbed the beer can and threw it across the pen. It bounced off the wooden fence with a ping!

“I’ve run this ranch on my own for the past four years. If you’re going to up and run out on me one day, I need you to go ahead and tell me now so I can decide whether or not this is the future for me.”

Nesta hesitated for a moment, unaware he was going to blow up on her like that. Although, she shouldn’t have been surprised. And she shouldn’t blame him. “And if I’m not?”

Now it was Cassian’s turn to hesitate. “If you’re not what?”

“Going to leave,” she said, simply, chin raised. “Because I’m not leaving. My dad… Well, he left me this place and I intend to do my best to ensure that his legacy lives on. So, no, you giant ass, I’m not leaving. And, you’re right, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never been iinterested in ranching, and now that I own this shithole, I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?”

Cassian was watching her, perfectly still, as the the words poured out of her.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she continued, shaking her head, but she wasn’t looking at Cassian, not anymore. “I have no idea what I’m fucking doing!”

She knitted her fingers into her hair and leaned forward, groaning as she did. “I’m in so far above my head that it’s not even funny.”

Cassian stood there, watching as this woman who’d done nothing but plague his thoughts, day and night, proceeded to break down inside the round pen.

He didn’t know what to do. Whether he should leave her be or step forward and comfort her.

This strong, beautiful woman, who was more frustrating than any horse he’d tried to break and more confusing than them either.

He took a tentative step forward. “Look, we-,” he paused and scratched at the back of his neck. “Nesta, we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s- Can we start over? We’ll forget my stupidity and the other night and the times where you were a bit of a bitch…”

He looked at her to gauge her reaction to his joke. When her head snapped up and he saw a spark in those stormy eyes, he knew he’d struck home.

“When I was a bit of a bitch?” She laughed. “What about when you were a complete and utter dick?”

“I was going to leave that part out of my argument,” he murmured, but he was grinning, because the second she laughed, he couldn’t help himself. “You’re right. I was a dick, and I’m sorry.”

“I am, too,” she said, quietly, a small smile lingering on her mouth. “What I said out of anger and embarrassment….well, I said a lot that I shouldn’t have, and didn’t mean. I know you love this job, Cassian, and you’ve made a home here. I wouldn’t take that away from you. You know, unless you really piss me off.”

Cassian laughed, quietly, looking down at his boots. “Fair enough.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, then looked back over her shoulder, where Elain and Feyre were once again watching through the kitchen window. She scowled.

Cassian noticed, too, once he looked back up, because he shook his head and laughed. “Alright, city girl,” he began, handing her a brush. “You wanna help? If your sisters are watching, at least give them a show.”

She grabbed the brush from his outstretched hand and took a step toward Daisy, but Cassian was laughing, quietly, as he watched.

She froze. “What?”

Cassian just shook his head. “We’re going to have to get you some boots.”

#the ranch nessian #shara collab #toab tacmc collab #tacmc x throne of ashes and beauty #tacmc toab tag team #throne of ashes and beauty x tacmc collab #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian

296 notes · View notes

iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Text

AU-gust Day 27: Flower Shop

Requested by @warmachinesocks for a Winteriron AU! Well, this took a left turn into Fantasyland but it is still a flower shop so I’m gonna count it

Also on ao3 here

“Tony, doll, can you grab three bundles of orchids from the greenhouse?” Bucky calls.

Tony gives him a cheeky salute and disappears through the back door. He comes back a moment later with three bundles of bright purple orchids and passes them off to Bucky, who starts working on the arrangement. The order isn’t terribly complicated, which he’s grateful for—after last week’s wedding fiasco (fucking mother of the bride), he’ll be happy if he never has to see another complicated order again.

“How’s it looking back there?” he asks, pretty certain that they’re running low on some of the annuals. They’ll need to purchase new seeds soon.

Tony shrugs. “We’ll need new zinnia and petunia seeds soon,” he says, leaning up on his toes to kiss Bucky’s cheek. “But everything else is looking good.”

“What about everything downstairs? If I’m running by the nursery this afternoon, we might as well make a double trip and swing by the apothecary.”

“I’m going to need more death cap mushrooms soon but that’s a trip to the forest, not the apothecary. I think I want to start a new plot of sage though so I’d like to get some of that. Oh! And I’m running low on incubus tongue and with Valentine’s Day coming—”

“Love potions are more in-demand than ever,” Bucky finishes. He’s been dating Tony long enough to know what potions are popular at what time of year.

“Attaboy,” Tony says with a wink. “When’s the next time we’re going over to Steve’s for dinner? I’ve got a client who needs a dragon scale for a protection spell and I think he said he was shedding a few weeks ago.”

“Tomorrow. He and Sharon are—”

The bell above the door chimes and they both chorus, “Welcome to Bluebells and Belladonnas!”

Angie, the little old witch who comes in every week to pick up roses for her wife, coos at them, “You two are so cute!”

“Not as cute as you, Mrs. Martinelli,” Bucky says, laying on the old Brooklyn charm. He uses it on most customers because it makes them buy more but for Angie, it only makes her chuckle and blush. “What can we get for you today?”

“A dozen roses,” she orders like always and passes them a tube of lipstick. Tony disappears into the greenhouse behind the shop again. “Here’s the color she’s wearing today.”

He makes small talk with the old woman, chatting about her granddaughter who’s seeing Steve and speculating about when they’re finally going to announce that they’re engaged. Tony comes back out a few moments later with a collection of white roses. He swipes the lipstick over them and, before their eyes, the color spreads across the flowers until all twelve are as deep a red as the lipstick itself.

Tony passes the flowers and the lipsticks back over to Angie as Bucky rings her up. “And how will you be paying today, Mrs. Martinelli?” he asks.

“With news,” she says, lowering her voice to a hush. Bucky and Tony glance at each other. Ravenspoint is a small town; news is worth its weight in gold. “They contacted Peggy first, that’s how we know before everyone else.”

“Know what?” Tony asks, leaning across the counter.

“The Starks have returned to the manor.”

Bucky doesn’t think that Angie notices Tony going stiff but he certainly does. Beneath the counter, he slips his hand under Tony’s shirt to rest on Tony’s hip, running his thumb back and forth soothingly.

“Rosewood’s been empty for decades,” he points out. “Since Stane’s death. Why are they back now?”

Angie shakes her head. “Maria didn’t say. But apparently, the wards wouldn’t let her and Howard back in when they tried to enter. That’s why they needed to see Peggy.”

“Peggy wouldn’t be able to lower the wards,” Tony says quietly, leaning further into Bucky’s hand.

“That’s what she told them. I guess they thought that as the head witch of the coven, she’d be able to override little Anthony’s spell.”

Tony flinches and Bucky looks down at him. Tony has never told him the full story of what happened the night Howard and Maria Stark fled Rosewood, leaving their only son and heir behind in the guardianship of the family butler but he’s heard enough pieces that he could probably guess. The storm of the century centered directly over the manor, a family friend much too interested in the immense amounts of power the young heir holds killed, and a father who couldn’t resist keeping his resentment over his child’s power to himself and a mother who never bothered to protect her son banished? Yeah, Bucky can most definitely figure it out. These days, no one knows that Tony of Bluebells and Belladonnas is Anthony Stark—besides the Jarvises, Peggy, and Bucky himself.

“Where did they go?” he asks, wondering if he needs to put up his own wards around the shop and their upstairs home tonight—or if they need to be leaving town for a few days.

“To the Jarvises,” Angie says. “Where else would they go? They’re the only ones who know where Anthony might be.”

Bucky and Tony share another look, both thinking the same thing: they need to call Edwin after Angie leaves to make sure word doesn’t get out about Tony’s whereabouts. They let Angie take her roses and leave and Tony immediately disappears into the downstairs greenhouse to call Jarvis and spend some time puttering with his potions. Bucky locks up the shop early, deciding that Tony’s distress is more important than the day’s sales. They don’t have any deliveries or orders today so he refuses to worry about any potential loss of profit. They make more than enough from both businesses anyway.

He goes back into the regular greenhouse for a few minutes to collect a small bouquet of flowers: gladioluses for strength, violets for peace, magenta zinnias for constancy and affection. Tony is working on what looks like a luck potion when he gets down there so Bucky waits until he’s done adding the crushed gardenia and has set the pot on a low simmer before he says, “What did Jarvis say?”

“To set up the wards,” Tony says. He’s not looking at him but he hasn’t sent him away either so Bucky feels confident coming up behind him to put the flowers in a vase and hug him close. He rests his chin on Tony’s shoulder.

“Anything else?”

“Maybe close the shop for a few days. I don’t want to do that though. We’ll lose out on too many customers.”

“So we’ll ask Steve and Sharon to come in.”

Tony snorts. “Over my dead body will we trust Steve with the greenhouse.”

“Sharon can handle those. Steve can handle the cash register. You know how many bouquets will sell with his ‘aw shucks’ routine?”

“…A lot,” Tony admits reluctantly.

“Exactly.” Bucky turns his head, pressing a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw. Tony sighs. “Come on, doll. Our friends have been saying for ages that we need a vacation so let’s take one. We’ll get away from here, wait until it all blows over and your parents leave again, and then we’ll come back.”

Tony closes his eyes, swaying a little on the spot. Bucky knows he’s been stressed lately. The store had a couple rough months earlier this year and they’re still not making as much of a profit as either of them would like. Bucky’s been stressed over it too but Tony seems to take it personally.

“Come on,” he croons, mouthing behind Tony’s ear. “We’ll go up into the mountains, rent one of those cabins with the bear rugs you read about in those romance novels you think I don’t know about.”

“Bucky!” Tony hisses.

“Whaddya say?”

“…Yeah, okay.”

#winteriron #alle writes #august2020 #if you like please consider reblogging

123 notes · View notes

writingfromkitchenator · 4 years ago

Text

Oh Grey Warden

A Dragon Age Fanfic

Masterlist

The Iron Bull x M!Dwarf Inquisitor

Words: 1,785

Warnings: Mild angst, mention of parental loss, mention of old injuries, fluff

“Ah, Chief?”

Bull looked up from his empty tankard, one that he’d been staring at, a little lost in thought. As he looked at Krem, the sorrowful notes from the bard caught his ear, but he didn’t pay it much mind, as Krem was looking unsure.

The uncertainty wasn’t like Krem, and this had Bull worried almost instantly. “What’s wrong?”

Krem licked his lips and his eyes flickered over to the other side of the tavern, Bull quickly taking the hint and following his gaze.

Tiadith stood there, looking a little lost, his eyes staring at nothing as the words of the song seemed to wash over him, and it was only as Bull watched grief pain his expression, that he paid attention to the song.

Oh, Grey Warden,

What have you done?

The oath you have taken

Is all but broken.

All is undone.

Ash in the sun,

Cast into darkness

The light we had won.

Bull frowned a little as he watched Tiadith seem to slump as the song ended. He knew that what had happened at Adamant had not been easy, that it would have lasting consequences on everyone that had been there, but he’d never expected to see this type of reaction from their Inquisitor.

Tiadith seemed to pull himself from his trance, shaking his head a little, and in doing so, he found Bull watching him. With a deep breath, he took a hesitant step forward, before shaking his head more violently, and marching himself out of the tavern.

“Crap,” Bull said. “Is that the first time he’s heard the song?”

Krem nods slowly. “I think so, but he’s never given me the impression that it was affecting him like that.

Bull grunts with worry and gets to his feet. “There’s more to it than that, I think.”

“It was…unnerving seeing him so lost.” Krem said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like that.”

“Me either,” Bull agreed. “Leave it with me.”

Skyhold was a large place to try and hunt down one dwarf would’ve been a task in itself, but luckily for Bull, Tiadith was easily recognisable, and with only a few questions on the way, he soon found he’d retreated to his room.

Bull took the stairs up slowly, a little worried when he was greeted by silence, and he quickly took in the empty room at the top of the stairs. “Boss?”

“I’m out here Bull.” Tiadith’s voice came from the balcony.

He was seated on the railing, back against the wall, his eyes on the distant mountains, his expression drawn, even under his beard, and Bull couldn’t help but give a concerned frown. “Are you alright?”

Tiadith sighed heavily, closing his eyes. “Not really.”

Bull leans against the railing next to him, watching him carefully. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” He said. “I’ll be alright.”

“Bullshit,” Bull said quietly. “I’ve never seen you react like that. Out of all the decisions you’ve made, all the things that we’ve had to do, what made you stop at the words of a song?”

Tiadith is quiet for a long moment, keeping his eyes closed as he breathed deeply, using the fresh air to try and clear his head. As a shudder goes through him though, it was clear it wasn’t working. “This…this can’t go beyond us Bull. I kept this…to myself because I didn’t know how others would react at first, but when the Grey Wardens plans became known…”

This threw Bull for a moment, although he didn’t let it show. “What connection do you have with the Wardens?”

He looks at him, his eyes intense. “Promise me this doesn’t go beyond us Bull. I mean it.”

Bull gives him a wry smile. “I know you’ll put an arrow between my eyes if it does.”

Tiadith stares at him for a moment before sighing and looking away again. “My…father…was a warden. He died during the battle of Ostagar. I’d hate to think of what he’d think of all of this. There’s an…irony involved in being glad that he didn’t live to see it.”

This hadn’t been what Bull was expecting, but now it made sense why he was acting the way he was. “You were close to him.”

“As close as I could be in the Carta,” Tiadith gives a small smile. “And when you’re too young to really understand what your father was doing. I was only just starting too when we heard that there’d been a cave in during the lyrium run that he was on. We thought he was dead.”

“What happened?” Bull asked.

“It was a couple of years before we heard anything,” Tiadith said. “By then, I was old enough to start doing my own work in the Carta, small tasks here and there thinking it was the only way my life could go. He sent a letter explaining, as best he was allowed, about what had happened. That letter…it changed my life Bull, it suddenly gave me something to reach for, no matter how far that seemed.”

Bull thought for a moment, watching as Tiadith looked away, facing out over the mountains. "I’m not going to try and guess what this has been like for you boss, especially if you looked up to the wardens like that.”

Tiadath gives a soft laugh. “I only ever met him once more after that, even though we talked in letters back and forth, but that one meeting…that one meeting just set me in my dream of doing more.” He sniffed. “I never would’ve dreamed it would’ve turned out lie this. Ever since the Blight, I feel like dream has just gotten further and further away from me and that-that song was like a final confirmation that everything that happened recently, was very much real.”

He’d known Tiadith long enough now to know that he was referring to his own experience in the Blight, having been in Fereldan for the Carta when it hit, and getting wounded that left him unable to wield a sword as he’d been trained. Bull had seen the deep scar himself, running from his shoulder down to his side, and he’d often wondered how he could even wield a bow.

But this made even more sense now, learning that his father had died, and the dream of following in his footsteps slowly slipped more and more through his fingers as the world slowly seemed to go further and further into shit.

“I’m sorry Bull,” Tiadith said. “It wasn’t my intention to throw all this on you, or to even let anyone see me like this. It just hit me hard in there. I guess pushing it to the back of my mind long enough, I finally let it crack through.”

“You don’t have to apologise to me,” Bull said, giving him a nudge and a smile. “You need to get this off your chest and I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t willing to listen.”

Tiadith gives a small laugh, dropping his head. “Thanks. That’s an irony in itself considering who you are.”

Bull snorts. “If that really bothered you, you wouldn’t have flirted with me so much.”

He chuckles and then leans against him, his head resting on his shoulder. “Who does that say more for? You or me?”

Bull wraps his arms around him. “Take your pick, I’m not fussed.”

They stay like that for a long moment, looking out over the mountains. Bull knew that Tiadith would talk when he was ready.

“I don’t know how to keep going Bull,” He said softly. “I don’t know how much more I can take. I feel like I’m going to break and I don’t know if there’s a way back from that. I always thought that I’d be ready for such a life, prepared to do anything, but all this…all these things happening, especially with the Wardens, it’s just made me question…”

Bull hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Did you need me to take care of anything?”

Tiadith shook his head. “It’s not that kind of problem Bull. It’s just…dealing with the reality of it all after having expectations for so long. I’ll be alright eventually.”

Bull sighed and rested his head atop of Tiadith’s. “You know, you don’t have to do this alone. I don’t plan on going anywhere any time soon.”

He goes silent again and Bull can practically feel the emotions simmering away, and with a grunt, he bundles Tiadith into his arms, carrying him back into the bedroom.

“Bull-”

“Shush, I’m not going to just have you sitting on the edge like that all day. Makes me uncomfortable.”

“I’m not going to do anything,” Tiadith looks at him as Bull puts him down on the bed, a small smile tugged at his lips. “I quite often sit out there.”

“I know,” Bull grunts, sitting on the bed next to him. “And I don’t like it even then. What if a strong wind comes through and blows you right off?”

Tiadith chuckles, shaking head. “I have much better balance than that, you watch me leap out of range of enemies enough. I haven’t fallen off anything since I learnt to properly do that.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it all the same.” Bull said softly. “Now, come here.”

Bull stretches back out onto the bed, opening his arms up with a grin, Tiadith returning it, shaking his head and moving to his side, cuddling into him.

“Admit it,” Tiadith said quietly, closing his eyes. “You just wanted a cuddle.”

“Maybe,” Bull said. “But I also know you need this, and right now, that’s all I care about.”

Tiadith sighs contently. “Thanks Bull.”

“Anytime,” Bull gave him a soft smile, even though his eyes were closed. “And I’ll make sure that Maryden knows not to play that one around you.”

“Won’t that get people talking?”

“They talk anyway, Boss. You should hear some of the rumours about us.”

Tiadith snorts. “I have.”

“And?”

“I’m incredibly amused at how invested people are in our sex life. You’d almost think none of them were getting any themselves. Some of the things I’ve heard about what we supposedly get up to.”

“Did you hear about the in front of the fireplace?”

“That seems to be the popular one. I’m blaming Dorian or Sera for starting it.”

“It was definitely Sera.”

The two of them started laughing after a moment, and Tiadith finally felt himself at ease again, the memory of the Wardens pushed back aside, although, the memories he had of his father still lingered, as he had been since they learned of the Grey Warden’s involvement.

“Bull?”

“Hmmm?”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #the iron bull #iron bull #the iron bull x male inquisitor #the iron bull x dwarf inquisitor #the iron bull x m!dwarf inquisitor #iron bull x male inquisitor #iron bull x dwarf inquisitor #iron bull x m!dwarf inquisitor #the iron bull x inquisitor #iron bull x inquisitor

35 notes · View notes

stomp-that-ho-regard · 4 years ago

Text

I typically don’t do asks (I've only ever gotten a few), but a recent one got my gears turning and I wanted to reply.

(This is a secondary blog, so I can’t answer asks in the usual way.)

Your post about the retcon is so fucking good, I wish every critter saw it and actually thought about how shitty it was done, but then their belief in the cast and show would probably start cracking.

Thank you for liking the retcon post. I’ve seen various people in the tags thank me for making that post and have said that it’s helped them ‘feel less insane’. None of us are insane. We are not delusional. We didn’t experience a mass hallucination. These things happened, and they’ve been thoroughly documented. Hundreds of hours of material over the course of three years.

The people who should read that post won’t ever see it because I have all those assholes blocked lol. If they did manage to find it somehow, I know they would just mock it, as they’re wont to do with any of our criticisms. They’re so far up CR’s ass, they’ve convinced themselves that a retcon didn’t happen. Even shoving the literal definition of the word in their faces wouldn’t wake them up.

It's just so fucking weird to see how the group is acting now, and I'm pretty sure we're never gonna get a Laura&Marisha episode picture and a TM episode with those 2 for the rest of the campaign. It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore🙄 it's the same fucking pattern and like you, I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this on a d&d show.

I specifically want to address the “It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore” because I’ve thought about that pattern too. (Not so much with Marisha/Laura ‘cause them being on TM together is already a rare combo. If they don’t appear much or at all going forward, I don’t think it’s because of this, though it really wouldn’t surprise me. But, I have been thinking about that specific pattern in regard to their characters.)

I can make a comparison between this situation and what happened with the show A/gent Carter and the way the ship Cart/inelli was handled.

I know that might sound weird, but stay with me here lol...

I want to make it clear that I’m not comparing the relationships at all. Cart/inelli did not have nearly the same amount of build-up and depth as Beaujester, (or quite frankly, their level of possibility.) What I am comparing is the creators over-the-top reactions to these characters being shipped so hard and the extreme measures they went to in order to ‘remedy’ that.

The ship included P/eggy Carter and A/ngie Martinelli. The show was set in New York. Angie was a waitress (who wanted to be an actress/be on Broadway) at the diner that Peggy frequented. They ended up talking quite a bit and became fairly close. That ended up kind of becoming the core relationship in the entire first season, and LOTS of people started shipping it.

At the time, no one was calling us crazy or delusional. At most it was, “This is ABC! They’re not gonna pair her with a woman!” and of course the obligatory “But Peggy’s not gay!”. But no one was calling us names or being generally cruel. And anyone who tried it was ignored because everyone else drowned them out. The ship became extremely popular on Tumblr and Twitter. Both actresses were very positive and supportive. They regularly liked/retweeted romantic Cart/inelli fanart on Twitter. Even one of the female writers on the show got behind it too. It was asked about frequently at conventions and no one booed or rolled their eyes. The questions were never dismissed or made into a joke. (Honestly, this was one of the better overall fandom experiences I’ve had on here.)

And all of us were super excited for S2. Not just because of all the support, but because they had ended S1 with Peggy and Angie moving in together. Peggy had purchased, either it was a really fancy apartment or house (my memory is fuzzy on this), and she literally asked Angie to stay with her. Needless to say, that fueled the flames even more.

But despite the actresses and at least one writer being on board, between S1 and S2, something shifted.

Clearly, the showrunner and/or the execs, took a look at all of this and deemed it a ‘problem’. When S2 finally came around, suddenly everything was different. Instead of both of them living together in New York, instead of it being an organic (I’m beginning to hate that word) continuation from where they left off, Peggy decided to move to Los Angeles to do work for some agency out there or something, and Angie stayed in New York. It’s never explained why. It’s never explained why a woman who so badly wanted to be an actress would NOT want to go to LA, where Hollywood is. LA was never mentioned in S1. There were no hints that Peggy might want to fly out to the West Coast at some point. She seemed perfectly happy in NY, basically setting up house with Angie.

And they didn’t even ease into the change. They just got rid of the character. The actress was bummed about it and Cart/inelli fans tried to put pressure on the showrunner/writers to bring Angie back, which the actress completely supported, but even that fell on deaf ears. So, Angie was simply no longer an entity on that show. Conveniently removed. All the excitement we had was crushed. And of course, the second that Peggy got out to LA, she suddenly had a very obvious male love interest. What a surprise.

The showrunner/writers were not subtle about what they thought about our ship and us. They made the most extreme, nonsensical writing decision in order to permanently separate these two characters. Because, hey, that’s the only way to get the shippers to STOP, right?

This was what I was reminded of when I started seeing the turn that post-hiatus CR was taking. It ended up being a weird combination of kneejerk erasure (BJ) and heavy-handed overcompensation (BY).

But of course, CR is not a TV show, it’s D&D. And they can’t force one of their PCs to just disappear, so what do they have to resort to? Not interacting.

We all know how severely neutered Beau and Jester’s general relationship has become. It’s clear to me that both Marisha and Laura felt they had to do that. They had to suddenly have their characters stay away from each other as much as possible so they could prioritize Fjord and Yasha, and speed-run into romances with them. They started acting as if either of them giving the other one ounce of affectionate attention (like they had been doing so often and so naturally before), would be breaking some sort of hidden ‘relationship code’. Almost like if they ever hugged again, the studio would go down in flames.

The very obvious fact that they went to these lengths, to me, proves two things...

One, it proves the retcon even more, because you can tell that the way they behaved with each other DID in fact change. The frequency of interactions and the way those interactions would play out. Whenever they interact now, it seems like they’re trying to keep it as short, thin, and almost comedic (to the point of goofiness, and not in a good way) as possible. Their engagement seems half-assed and dull. The sounds of their voices, their facial expressions... completely sanitized. Even all the physicality they had is gone; the touches, the hugs, the cuddling. Every single aspect is different and they absolutely did that intentionally. This had to happen because they needed to dupe the viewers into believing that despite overall interest waning, their threadbare connections to Fjord and Yasha are more important, and were always more important then their connection to each other, that we all watched them steadily build. (And watched them pick up steam from about ep70 onwards.)

And two, that whole intentional decision to cut themselves off from each other, proves to me that their interactions pre-hiatus were indeed tinged with ‘something extra’, that was more than just friendship. They both recognized it and that’s why they pulled back so hard. That’s why soft touches and hugs and cuddling are no longer ‘allowed’. That’s why quiet, heartfelt conversations are no longer ‘allowed’. Because if there was absolutely nothing there, if they didn’t see/feel any romantic chemistry simmering underneath, and it was all just platonic BFF stuff, why would they suppress their behavior so drastically?

I think that all of this really does cement what I said in my retcon post: That there are disingenuous patterns being used here that I’ve seen far too often in media. In A/gent Carter, it was a character separation, in CR it was a character dynamic separation. Both done on purpose, to make the shippers shut up, and to push a different plot.

One is scripted, the other is unscripted, but the situations feel disgustingly similar, don’t they?

#op #ask #long post #i feel like i'm just retreading old ground here #still cathartic though

16 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

Text

The Devil Contained

Prompt: #162 for anon – “Come into the light.”

Anonymous said:

Hello hello! For the drabble game could I ask for #162 with jaebum if you don't mind?

Pairing: Im Jaebum x reader

Genre: demon au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 1359

Whilst this is part of the KOD world, you can read this away from the series, although it would make more sense to read the previous stories to understand the world this takes place in.

King of Demons series: Havoc // King of Demons // Unfathomable // Sacrifice // King of Demons: The Return // In The Night // Identity // Prophecy // Someone // The Devil Contained // The Monsters Witch

“Why are you hiding? Come into the light properly!” you called out and Jaebum sighed heavily, looking down at his new clothes right when you walked into the room.

Your light snort wasn’t lost on the demon and Jaebum lifted his hand, fingers on the ready to click together. You gasped. “Oh no, don’t you dare!”

“Y/N, this isn’t me,” Jaebum implored, snapping his fingers. His appearance changed before you, his cloak and dark clothing returning to him.

“This is you in Sheol,” you reminded sternly, placing your hands on your hips. “Change back.”

“Why should I?” he asked bitterly, shaking his head to refute your instructions.

It was ironic to Jaebum that he commanded an entire world down in Hell. Everyone listened to what he had to say and never questioned him, knowing the grave consequences if they even tried.

Still, even after all these years of being together with you, he wasn’t used to having someone he answered to.

Your eyes grew hard and the devil softened, dropping his gaze to the ground. “Must I?”

“We’re trying to find your earthside fashion, Jaebum. We still haven’t found something you won’t protest about endlessly after one night wearing them. Last time you even burned the outfit from existence! That cost me a lot of money!”

He smirked. “Human clothes are too restricting.”

“Says the man who gets around in leather pants most days,” you retorted, uncaring of his troubles.

Sighing, Jaebum clicked his fingers together again and you immediately beamed, fussing over his polo shirt and chinos. Jaebum shook his head. “Y/N, who even wears these clothes?”

“Lots of people,” you mumbled, still admiring him fondly. Jaebum scrunched his nose up at you.

“Really?”

“Sure, this is a popular look for a lot of men in power.”

“To go to work in?” he echoed and you laughed, shaking your head.

“No, for leisure.”

“The Devil himself never gets a day off so why would I need an outfit for leisure?”

You rolled your eyes. “You have one night with me every two years on Earth. The first time around, I don’t think you ever complained this much about your clothes.”

“I was rather preoccupied, don’t you think?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Stealing all the mint chocolate chip ice-cream sure took your attention off your outfit, huh?”

“This isn’t me, my love. What other outfits can I wear instead?” he asked, looking at the pile of clothing you had bought in preparation this year. Jaebum had to admit, anything would be better than the weird layered thing Jackson had insisted was the hottest trend on Earth two years previous.

However, the stripes on the tee and the waistband of these pants did nothing to appeal to him whatsoever.

“Okay, how about this?”

“A shirt? How is that much different from my normal look?”

You laughed. “For one, it’s not made from silk.”

“I thought you liked the feeling of it under your hands,” he questioned, stepping in closer to you. Reaching to cup your face within his hands, he smiled wickedly at you. “Or is it the way you can easily rip it from upon me?”

“Simmer it down, Devil,” you remarked, blinking away the lust forming within your eyes. “No one in their right mind wears a silk shirt here unless they’re in a historical play or the mafia.”

“You humans have lost your sense of fashion. Silk has been a staple for centuries.”

“Yes, much like you have, we know.”

Shoving Jaebum back into your bathroom, he changed, looking up at himself in the mirror as he did so. This wasn’t as bad, he could wear a shirt, though he did miss the lightness of his silk. The pants weren’t a bad fit either.

This would do.

“Okay, I’m coming out,” he announced, stepping out to find you rubbing at your stomach. He frowned. “Are you unwell? Must we cancel our human date?”

“Hm? Oh no, I’m fine!” you excused with a smile, now eying him up.

Jaebum cleared his throat. “What do you call this look?”

“The Devil contained,” you mused, coming over to wrap your hand around his lower arm and tugged him along. “Come on, we have a reservation waiting for us.”

Dinner was delicious, though paled entirely once he was equipped with the largest scoop of mint chocolate ice-cream that he could get. Swinging your linked hands lightly as you strolled around the streets together, you shared smiles as you ate your ice-cream, and Jaebum knew it didn’t matter what he wore to enjoy this special time with you. Although he would always feel his best in the land he belonged in, it didn’t matter wherever he was, as long as you were at his side.

It was a love that was unlike any other.

He longed for you whenever you were earthbound without him and he wanted time to stop when you were spending your half of the year with him in Sheol. Knowing that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for another two months was bittersweet.

Perhaps that was why he liked eating mint chocolate whenever he was up here.

You stopped suddenly and Jaebum examined your expression, his brows knitting together. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, your eyes attached to the store you had halted outside of. Jaebum looked inside, noting it was a baby store. He frowned; did you know anyone who was going to have a little human soon?

As soon as the thought came, his eyes travelled to your middle once more, blinking slowly. He had been so worked up and focused on himself that he hadn’t once picked up on the changes happening within you.

Jaebum didn’t know if the idea frightened or excited him immensely.

You caught his knowing gaze and laughed awkwardly. “Maybe it won’t be something we have together.”

“How can you say that when you know of our child growing within you?”

“It’s not just any child, Jaebum. It has a demon for a father.”

“Does that bother you?” he murmured and you shook your head adamantly.

“I worry I might not be strong enough to nurture it. Not to mention, all that I have read up on says that the gestation rate should be different. I could be having our child faster than I’m physically prepared for.”

“You read up about having a child with my kind?” he mused, touched by your efforts. Reaching down to rest his hand upon your stomach, Jaebum grinned. “She is as strong as her mother is.”

“She?!” Gasping, you shook your head rapidly. “Jaebum, I didn’t know the gender! How did you… why am I even asking, you’re the Devil himself.”

“It appears I have wreck havoc after all on a human, just not in the way the Gods anticipate,” he announced as you groaned loudly. Looking at you, he noticed the smile you were trying to hide and laughed in satisfaction. “Who knew I would become a father?”

“I did,” you told him, recovering enough to look up at the man you loved. “And a fantastic one at that.”

“With you as my queen, what can I not do?” he told you, kissing you passionately before looking up at the store again, a smile curling up his lips.

“No ice-cream this time, that’s a first,” Jinyoung exclaimed when Jaebum arrived back from his trip to Earth, though the insightful demon soon grew perplexed. “Brother, what did you do?”

“The unthinkable,” he mentioned proudly, raising a hand to his chest as he passed Jinyoung and went into his chambers. Jinyoung had followed, scratching at his head.

“Did you cause actual calamity?”

“I brought around new life.”

“New… you did what?!”

Jaebum grinned, opening a set of doors, watching as everything he had travelled back with soon settled upon the floor. Jinyoung approached the first box and then sent a startled look in the direction of the Devil.

“Will you help me prepare everything? It won’t be long until we have a true demon princess among us.”

Jaebum was excited for his next trip to Earth already, knowing it would be a family outing instead.

_________________

[Drabble Game Masterlist] | [GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

196 notes · View notes

write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years ago

Text

Celebrities Need Milk Too: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

My favorite time of the day was walking to work. It didn’t matter the shift, daytime, or who my co-workers were. All that mattered was the music playing through my headphones as I would walk down the cracked sidewalk. I found myself staring at my reflection in window shop glass more than I looked where I was going. I trusted my feet to go where they needed because of the amount of time I’d walked this path.

My hands mess with a misplaced hair before being covered up by a new poster in the window of a macaroon shop. My feet stop as I look at the volleyball players that littered the paper. It was for a big match up tonight against the Schweiden Adlers and MSBY Black Jackals. This particular poster seemed to be dedicated to the Adlers with their star players lit up by a golden light.

If I was being honest, I hadn’t been paying too much attention to the recent volleyball tournament that plagued the city. All the hubbub has done is make the shop a busier than normal.

A small buzz takes me away from the poster. I curse under my breath as I see that I was slightly late for work. My feet pick up the pace in hopes of getting there in a time that my boss would deem acceptable.

As I got to the shop, a group of people had gathered around one person. He was taking pictures outside as if he were a celebrity. This struck me as odd because we don’t get a lot of famous people that visit this particular coffee shop.

The so-assumed celebrity seemed to not be a fan of pictures or autographs. He had yet to figure out the perfect hand placement so that it was not awkward for the girls or himself. His smile had yet to meet his eyes and even looked like a painful experience. I couldn’t help but chuckle as the girls fawned over him.

In-between photos, I caught the eyes of this strange man. His dark turquoise eyes seemed to be filled with a mixture of please help along with disinterest and an intensity unmatched by anyone I’d ever met. I had seen them somewhere before but I couldn’t put my finger on where.

I, however, did not have time to ponder who this celebrity could be. No Doze Cafe was bustling with people. Almost all the tables were filled with patrons either waiting on coffee orders, studying for an upcoming test, or laughing with their group of friends. A few people were crammed at the window in hopes of getting the celebrities attention.

“You’re late again,” called Carrie as she walked out from the back room. Her apron was covered in old stains.

“I know,” I say while putting on my own apron. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I really should keep a tally of how many times you’ve told me you won’t be late again.” Her voice may have been teasing but I could feel her pressing me about my tardiness.

“Or you could just dock my pay like you keep saying you will,” I comment while picking up the closest cup. I read the marking scribbled on the side. White Peppermint Mocha: Our most popular seller around the holiday seasons.

I quickly mixed this drink while preparing for the rush of customers that would likely enter the shop if the guy ever was given a break. “Akashi,” I call while placing the drink on the counter.

My fears became a reality as the swarm of people followed right behind the guy from outside. I found myself cursing his very own existence. Instead of immediately stepping into line, he decides to take a seat, pull out his phone, and start watching some video.

Rather than comment on his strange behavior, Carrie shouted at me to get back to work. She can sometimes get grouchy if enough people have pissed her off today. Sadly, I was one of them.

As the day grew later and later, people became less interested in the celebrity and more interested in getting their coffee to go. The after school rush had simmered to a slow boil. There were a few people still seated at tables watching the man.

Carrie decided to take a small smoke break to clear her head from the rush. I was left taking and filling orders.

“See you later Ms,” called one of the regular high school students. I waved goodbye to him before walking back to the cash register. To my surprise, it was the man from outside.

“Oh it’s you,” I say.

His eyes narrow to the same intense expression-filled scowl he had earlier in the day. “Would you want a picture or something?” he asked. His voice was filled with annoyance and a little disappointment.

“No,” I commented. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually get anything after you didn’t get in line at the start.”

He paused. It was the same pause that I had given him earlier when we locked eyes. It was the feeling of confusion mixed with a little wonder. “You were watching me?”

A heat flushed along my cheeks. “I-I was watching you because of the crowd. We normally don’t get celebrities in the cafe.”

I could’ve sworn that the same blush on my cheeks mirrored on his. “I wouldn’t say that I’m a celebrity,” he said. “I’m just well known.”

“Well, sorry for calling you a celebrity,” I say, trying to make up for my misstep. “What could I get for you?”

He looked around as if to spy on anyone that would listen to his order. “That’s actually what I would need help with. I haven’t visited a coffee shop before. A friend of mine said that you made good hot chocolate with real milk. He said it was the best he’s ever had.”

“Oh would you like to try the hot chocolate?” I ask. “We import some of the cocoa from a shop in Paris.”

“Is there anything else with a lot of milk? I’m not a huge fan of chocolate.” His face flushed harder. It was a cute look to break up the angry intensity of his normal face.

I giggle before responding, “Yes we have plenty of items made with milk. Would you want something cold or hot?”

“I guess cold,” he mumbled. “Also could you add coffee?”

“Yes we can,” I say with my typical retail smile. “I would recommend a Macchiato. It has two shots of espresso with a base of milk. I enjoy the drink a lot. I would get a shot of some flavor in it though.”

“I’m fine without the flavor,” he said. “But make it a large.”

“And can I get a name for that order?”

“Kageyama.”

Suddenly, the names of the teammates on the poster flash before my eyes. His name was highlighted under one of the players. That was where I remember seeing his eyes before. “You’re the setter for the big game tonight.”

The comment must’ve caught him off guard. The already pink cheeks became an even darker shade of red. “Y-yes I am,” he commented before pulling out the money to pay. “You can keep the change. Think of it as a tip.”

He handed me six extra dollars about the cost of his drink. “I can’t take this,” I say while pushing the money back into his hands. “That’s too much as a tip.”

“N-no. I insist.” He pushed the money back into my hands. “You helped me a lot.”

“If you’re sure.” I make the change before placing the rest of the money into the tip jar. “That was very nice of you.”

“No problem.” Embarrassment must’ve been too much for him because Kageyama walked towards the end of the bar. I quickly make his drink before handing it over to him.

“Here you go sir. One Macchiato.” I turn away before he stutters out “W-wait.”

I turn back to see that he is looking at the drink. “W-would you be at the game tonight?”

“Oh, I don’t get off work until really late. I doubt my boss will allow me to go.”

Kageyama scoffed before looking back up at me. “I-I would really appreciate it if you could be there. I don’t have lots of pull but I could pay a little extra if you can get off.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No,” he stammers. “I was just asking because you’ve really helped me and I want to see you more.”

A smile crossed my face before I picked up a napkin off the counter and my pen. I wrote down my number and placed the napkin on top of his cup. “I don’t think I can come tonight,” I comment. “However, I’d love to see you again too, Kageyama.”

“O-oh,” he stutters before locking eyes with me. The faint blush had faded. “I’ll give you a call after my game. Maybe we can meet up and I can show you the video.”

“I’d love that,” I say. The black-haired man seemed confused that his confession had worked. He bid me a farewell before walking out the door.

“What was that guy’s deal?” asked Carrie. She must’ve finished up her cigarette in the time we were talking.

“That- my dear Carrie- is the celebrity that was outside.”

Haikyuu Masterlist

(This series is a choose your own adventure. Pick your favorite man or all of them. I will try to make as many of them as possible with continuations. So far, there is Oikawa, Sugawara, Tuskishima, and Kageyama. If you have a suggestion or comment, please message me!!)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq #kageyama #tobio x y/n #haikyuu tobio #kageyama x y/n #COFFEE SHOP AU

14 notes · View notes