#oh a plethora of answers available here

[ratatatastic]

"Even him, like... you know, it's funny he's the one who, like, kinda lit the fire under our asses a couple years ago, right? When he called us for being soft or whatever? And then it was like... it was funny there would be, like, moments throughout, like, after that, we would have a comeback win and then, you know, somebody—I said it a couple times—would be like, 'Suck it, Walt!' Like, you know? Like, on the bench, and fuck, ya got Maurice cracking up about it! It was like..."

i love how long its been and we still keep finding out about the infamous keith soft fiasco and to know they absolutely called back to it every second they could because at the end of the day they're petty mfers and to know even PAUL LAUGHED oh destined team united in clowning maffhews dad together

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Stranded In Arendelle: Chapter 2

July 21st, 1843

7:00 AM in the morning and Eugene was still sleeping. Rapunzel went to wake him up.

“Honey,” she exclaimed, “we’re here!”

Eugene woke up.

“We’ve arrived? Yes!”

There it was. Arendelle with its gorgeous fjords and complex architecture. In the city centre, of course, was the majestic castle where the coronation would be taking place. Other ships were arriving as well. Some with coronation guests, others with middle-class tourists. At last, it was time.

Upon arriving, both Rapunzel and Eugene were greeted with a plethora of questions. To both of their surprises, many of them were about their chaotic adventures from a few years ago. While Eugene mostly enjoyed the questions (save for a couple about his Flynn Rider days), Rapunzel was less than happy. She was constantly pestered about her old hairstyle and Mother Gothel. Oh, and about Cassandra and Varian’s actions as well.

“Man,” Rapunzel whispered to Eugene, “these people are really testing my patience right now!”

“Don’t let them get to you, sweetheart,” he told her. “They’re just random strangers.”

From afar, the two witnessed a red-haired woman in a fancy green dress dance for a bit before falling into the shoreline water. They recognized her as Princess Anna from the Arendelle royal guidebook.

“I’d see why they wouldn’t make her the heiress,” snarked Eugene. 

“She looks very naive and sheltered,” Rapunzel added. “Reminds me of a younger me. Pretty sure that’s what over a decade of isolation does to a person. I kind of feel bad for her.”

The time was 2:00 PM, which meant the coronation would be in an hour. Rapunzel and Eugene had no idea how to enter the castle in time. The old maps of Arendelle’s capital they held onto were extremely outdated due to the security ramping up after 1830. Rapunzel asked around, to no avail. Eventually, they stumbled across Princess Anna near a large building.

“Hiiiiii!” Anna greeted the royal Coronan couple. 

She eyed Rapunzel.

“Are you the tower princess?”

“Please don’t ever call me that,” Rapunzel answered, “but yes, I am Rapunzel.”

“Your Majesty,” asked Eugene, “do you have any idea how to get into the castle?”

“Of course!” she said in glee. “Please, call me Anna. You’re pretty far right now. First, you gotta make a left. It’s a fairly straight path for a while. Then, turn right. This is where it gets tricky.”

She was interrupted by a male voice.

“Anna? They’re preparing for coronation right now.”

“No problem,” she responded, “but I need to explain to some people how to get there.”

“Baby, leave them alone,” he said to her. “Worry about your own duties first.”

“Ok, sweetie,” Anna sighed. “I’m sorry guys. I really have to go now.”

The princess of Arendelle left to find her boyfriend at the castle.

“Now what do we do?” Eugene questioned.

“Ask someone else,” Rapunzel stated. 

“And look how well that’s been working,” told Eugene. 

Rapunzel pondered for a moment.

“You have a point,” Rapunzel stared at the nearby library. “Maybe there are some newer maps at the library over there.”

They were speed walking to the library when a young woman in formal attire approached them. She couldn’t be any older than 18.

“Do you need any help?” the dark-skinned woman asked.

Rapunzel turned around. She recognized the woman as a princess from Africa. Where, she couldn’t exactly remember.

“By God, yes!” Rapunzel said. “Have you been here before?”

“Yes,” the princess answered. “The name’s Nuru.”

“Great!” Rapunzel grinned. “Do you know how to get inside the castle?”

Nuru gave her a newer map of Arendelle.

“Follow me!”

…

The coronation ceremony was every bit as boring as Rapunzel expected it to be. Churchy, dull, bland. But once that was done, it was time to feast and party. She enjoyed partying much more.

What Rapunzel was mainly here for, though, was to negotiate a trade deal with Arendelle. She tried talking to the newly coronated queen. However, talking to Elsa proved futile, as she always seemed to sidestep questions. The embassy and royal advisors being busy, Rapunzel decided to talk to Anna.

“So…how’s the coronation going?” Rapunzel asked Anna.

“Best day of my life!!!” Anna squealed. “I’ve eaten delicious food, met so many amazing people, and you know what’s the best part?”

“What?” wondered Rapunzel.

“I met the love of my life today! He just proposed to me. And obviously, I said yes! We’re going to get married!”

A red-haired man whom Rapunzel immediately recognized as one of the Westergaards waved to Anna, who waved back. He then went through another hallway.

“Yeahhhh, I’m not sure marrying this guy right now is the best idea,” said Rapunzel. “First of all, you’ve just met him.”

“Isn’t that how you and Eugene got together?” Anna was befuddled.

“He didn’t propose to me the day we met,” Rapunzel told Anna. “It took a few months. Even ignoring the fact you’ve never met your fiancé until now, you do know what the Westergaards are like, right? Power-hungry. Misogynistic. Honestly, I think he just wants your money.”

Anna frowned.

“What’s misogynistic?” she questioned.

“It means they hate women,” Rapunzel responded. “I learned it from an English book.”

“Ohhhh,” Anna finished her drink. “I do know about the reputation of the Southern Isles royal family, by the way. But Hans seems like such a nice guy. And it’s not like children are doomed to inherit their parent’s failings.”

The princess of Corona was instantly reminded of Cassandra and how different she was from her mother. Rapunzel suddenly felt homesick and nostalgic.

“If that’s what your heart wants, then I can’t stop you,” stated Rapunzel. “You might want to talk to your sister, though.”

“I’m sure Elsa will be fine with it!” exclaimed Anna. “She hasn’t cared about my whereabouts these past few years anyways.”

Rapunzel then remembered what she first approached Anna for: the trade deal. 

“Do you have any idea how to make your sister open up?” asked Rapunzel. “I really need to finalize the trade deal.”

“I wish I did,” responded Anna. “But as for the trade deal, you can talk to royal advisor Christian about it. He’ll pass it onto her.”

“Alright then,” Rapunzel said.

Rapunzel considered asking about the alleged ice powered child, but she figured she wouldn’t get an honest response either way. So she just asked about the 1830 palace incident. As far as Anna was concerned, it was just a partly failed foreign attack. 

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1461060873-stranded-in-arendelle-chapter-2)

[flydotnet]

Breaktime Nostalgia

WHUMPTOBER 2023, DAY 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

I'm officially late because I was knocked out on my ass this weekend and preferred watching Formula 1 rather than write a stupid soccer manga fanfiction. At least, the Mexico Grand Prix was fucking , so that makes the sacrifice of having to rank up 2K words in a single day (today, Monday 30th) worth it.

Anyway, this a short fic with a simple premise because I want to be a completionist and have less than 48h to do so. This is set midway through the Gamo Hell:tm: period of WY, because again, the idea of Matsuyama and Misugi being roommates lives rent free in my head to an insane degree.

------------------------------------------

Breaktime Nostalgia

Summary: The bedroom smells like lavender and homesickness.

Fandom: Captain Tsubasa (it's canon-compliant yeet)

Word Count: 1.1K words

AO3 version available here.

------------------------------------------

The room smells like lavender.

This isn’t the sort of things Jun usually pays attention to: truth be told, everyone here has something else to do in their free time than pay attention to the smell of their bedroom, such as the throbbing of injuries that won’t completely go away with the medicine they have at their disposal. The medical staff around here is pathetically small for the number of players they are and especially considering the absurd brutality of Coach Gamo’s training regimens.

But see, this has made the scent of his bedroom specific. It’s so ingrained in his routine that he only notices it when he comes in and then it disappears from consciousness, yet now that it’s not here anymore, it hits him how specific it is: a mixture of plant-based medicine, the one essential oil that works on muscle pains and whatever bodywash and shampoo either of the occupants have used today.

Speaking of which, the culprit of the unusual fragrance sits on his roommate’s desk: it’s a light purple candle, which while it’s not on fire, is still pouring liquid wax in its dish. Said roommate is sitting next to the candle, vaguely staring at the candle.

Before coming in, Jun knocks out, then makes his way inside.

“Oh, you’re back,” Matsuyama tells him, and everything about him is a little sluggish.

“I didn’t take you to be the kind to use scented candles,” he replies as he goes to sit down on his own bed.

His leg hasn’t stopped bothering him ever since practice came to an end, and no matter what he does, the bruise won’t go away. He just hopes it’s not a torn muscle, because that’d most likely mean an immediate kick from the Japanese roster – which he absolutely doesn’t want, for a plethora of reasons.

“Yeah, me neither.”

The disinterest in Matsuyama’s voice is off-putting, to say the least.

“Where did you get it?”

“Oh, uh… Yoshiko sent it to me,” he replies with a spike of energy. “She was in Furano one weekend and decided I needed a care package.” He chuckles, but it sounds like an admission of defeat. “I guess she was right, though.”

“Things have been though, huh?”

“You can say that again,” he chuckles again, this time finally turning his face towards him. “It’s hard on everyone, though.”

“Let me guess, this candle smells like the fields near Furano?”

“Not really, no.” Matsuyama looks very amused at that idea. “You can’t put that into a candle.”

“I’d imagine you can’t quite reproduce the fragrance of fresh lavender in the wind with a simple candle,” Jun replies, imagining just how stupid and city-dwelling his supposition must’ve sounded to a country mouse like his roommate. “Despite that, it still reminds you of home, am I wrong?”

“No, no, you’re right,” Matsuyama answers as he glances back to the candle. “It’s like, a cheap comfort. My mom has a ton of those, at home, and they just remind me of that.”

“Feeling homesick, then?”

“Who doesn’t, here? We’ve all been at this for who knows how long and all we get in exchange is progress in soccer.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t say this, not when we’re all neck-deep in that shit, but it’s becoming hard to keep my head up, sometimes.”

“Why shouldn’t you say that? We’re both just as bandaged, and I’ll admit to you, I’m not feeling my greatest; and for once, it’s not even my heart that’s to blame!”

Jun giggles, because this is all very absurd to him, all of a sudden. He must be more long-time fatigued than he thought.

“Someone has to keep the group together, and if it’s not me, then I dunno who will. I need to keep my head together, if at least for everyone who’s been kicked out.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse for you not to wind out your feelings and you know that.”

Matsuyama remains silent for a little while. He’s rubbing at his left shoulder, which if Jun isn’t wrong, smashed into the field earlier during practice. Despite all of their progress and their motivation that can never quite entirely get eroded by the end of the day, it’s obvious they’re all putting up with their personal demons that physical exhaustion only brings back to the surface. If he wasn’t this happy to be here, if this hadn’t been the light at the end of a three-year-long tunnel, Jun would probably be a lot more disenchanted than that. His heart not giving up on him is already good enough for his standards.

Yet, it’s easy to see Matsuyama isn’t the same. This man has been the backbone of the team and, judging by how he judges talking about his emotions to be, and the melancholic way he’s been staring at a scented candle, he hasn’t found a lot of outlets for all of his negative feelings. It’s just been accumulating inside for weeks. Duty can make you turn into someone weird from the outside, doesn’t it?

“Leaders can have their moments of weakness,” Jun speaks up again. “We’re all in pain, we get it. Nobody here would hold an urge against you for feeling a little down.”

Matsuyama lies back in his desk chair, frowning with one eye as his hand lands on his thigh.

“I guess so.”

“It’s very tough for us all, so I understand you want to be the support we need.” A bittersweet smile appears on his face. “It’s a little unfair of us to leave that role to you, but I do think, like everyone else here, that you’re the man of the situation. None of us have the right mind for this.”

“We’ve all gotta be strong, so we’re… back to square one.”

“…Oh, right, we are.” Jun sighs. “My point was that feeling tired is normal and you shouldn’t swipe your feels under the rug because we need you to uphold us when our coach won’t. One doesn’t prevent the other.”

His roommate’s response is to flop onto his bed.

“Yeah. That sounds like it makes sense. I just want a full night of sleep.”

“Same here.” Beat. “That candle smells very strongly.”

“It does,” Matsuyama chuckles. “But hey, it’s a change from the rest. I like that. Next time, you can find you own homely candle or something.”

“Can’t wait to find a candle that smells like my mother’s expensive fragrances.”

“I thought you’d say your girlfriend’s perfume.”

“…That sounds a lot better. You may be a genius.”

“I just miss mine, man.”

“Same.”

They both sigh.

Perhaps the bedroom smelling like cheap flowers is a good thing.

[harmoniouspixels]

Would you still happen to be working on rounding out the World Adventures male maternity clothing? I just discovered your tumblr when searching for more male maternity clothes (because let's face it, playing with just Cmar's morphs is... not very fashionable, even if I do it anyway) and I was *delighted* to see how much was available!

[*Checks timestamp of ask being September 2023*] Oh we're late late here

Anyway. Serious answer anon, if you're still out there: I do plan on rounding out the rest of the WA set eventually! I've been playing with my combined LEPacy again and then I hit the Showtime gen and realized that oh. I didn't finish these sets, huh?

Also while realizing that as I took stock of the Showtime clothes, I saw the plethora of WA stuff I didn't do previously, so hopefully I'll get to those soon*!

*Hopefully as in, not another year from now, but maybe in the next few months if I'm lucky

[missoulastorageunits]

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This West Missoula facility offers 24/7 gate access, on-site security, and a digital surveillance system to keep your RV safe. Its friendly staff makes you feel like family and its location on Brooks Street is convenient to both Interstate 90 and downtown. They offer indoor and outdoor RV storage, with units available in all sizes. Its pricing ranges from $165 for an indoor unit to $209 per month for an outdoor space. They also offer online bill pay for your convenience, making it easier to set up a long-term contract. They are close to the Missoula Airport, so you can park your RV while you travel. 

[imesthersmith]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Nathan Drake x Reader

Prompt: You are the sidekick (and a former enemy) of the famous Nathan Drake. You got in a big trouble, but he's here to save you. And admitting to you how much he loves you.

Warnings: A lot of blood, hand-to-hand fights, shooting, weapons, fluff, light cursing.

(The Gif isn't mine)

–★–

Nope, it definitely wasn't your day.

Nathan could barely escape the plethora of soldiers. His ammunition was running low and the enemy was many. He thought he wouldn't get away without at least one hit.

He could tell how tired he was of this shit.

How did you two met? Funny story. You were one of Nathan's enemy soldiers. No one knew you very much, you weren’t important, just an average agent on the battlefield who did her job. As long as you did.

You once survived alone with your squad against him. You wanted to do your job, so you tried to attack him. But as soon as you saw him, seriously injured, calling for help, something happened to you. Maybe those beautiful blue puppy eyes? The awkward smile on his face? Or it was the first true and right decision of your conscience? Or maybe the fact that you were just afraid you would lose easily against him? He could easily kill you, just like the others.

And you still tried to make peace and help him, you put the gun down. He was pretty skeptic first. After all, it was understandable, he didn't trust anyone, especially not you. You were an enemy. But you didn't wanted to be anymore.

And now you're looking for treasure together, in a rather illegal way. When you betrayed your boss long time ago, you became their target, like Nathan. You had no chance to do anything, but stay with him. You have learned to trust each other.

And you also started to have feelings for him.

You honestly liked him. Or loved? You didn't know at all.

As Nathan jumped behind a huge rock to reload his gun, he nervously realized he had no more ammunition for this weapon.

“Ah, crap”, he murmured angrily. He quickly pulled out his pistol. He only had six bullets for that. “Hey, Y/N! Can you hear me?” He shouted over the loud noise of the shots. “Y/N!”

“Yeah?” You answered in the earpiece. He sighed a little in relief.

“I'm out of ammo!” He grunted. “How about a helping hand?”

“In a second...”, you said in hurry.

He frowned, and you could hear he was really on the edge – not beacuse of you. “I don't have a second! There's to many of 'em!”

“I just need a proper position...”, you mentioned. “I found a sniper. I'm pro at this!”

“We're gonna die”, he mumbled nervously after hearing your words.

A few seconds later Nathan heard the even louder, more dominant shot from the sniper.

He shot once randomly, not daring to look up.

“Not bad for a blind shot”, you chuckled. Yes, he didn't miss.

“Just helped you out”, he answered playfully. “Thank me later.”

“Oh, like you're not in a bigger trouble”, you laughed awkwardly, trying to focus on the targets.

The more and more the sound occured, the fewer people were shooting at him.

“That's how it's done!” He laughed in victory. He peeked his head out from his position. He saw you on the top of one of the old towers.

“I'm reloading–”, you said, but he barely heard you in the earpiece.

“Y/N!” He reached to his ear, but to no avail. “Damnit...”, he whispered.

He suddenly stepped out from behind the cliff, seeing that only two people were in front of him. He easily punched and kicked them, sending them to the ground.

“Little time out for ya”, he grunted, as he kicked the other guy in the face, causing him to lose his consciousness.

After making sure that there were no more opponents left, he headed to the tower. He encountered more enemies inside the old, ancient building, all of which easily defeated by fighting. He ran up long stairs before he reached your position.

But suddenly someone hit him from the side. He stumbled and looked up at him. He was a soldier of much stronger build, with a grim look on his face.

You – who had a lot of scars on the face, after fighting with him for a while – immediately jumped on his back and pulled him backwards, while Nathan punched him in the face. You managed to keep yourself up for a few seconds before he dropped you down. Your body landed hard on a stone debris, the air left your lungs for a second, you even forgot to scream. It roughly hit your ribs – you were sure they were at least cracked or broken – and it also flayed your side brutally. The blood instantly began to flow from your wounds.

You had a hard time and not enough energy getting up, but you had to help Nathan. You wanted to. You attacked the man with joint force. One punch from you, one kick from Drake. You didn't care about the unbearable pain.

Once you distracted him, Nathan dragged the soldier with him and shove him forwards. He grabbed the edge of the wall, watching how the guy fell down with a scream. You offered a hand to him, he quickly accepted it and you pulled him up.

He tried to gain his breath back, while looking down into the depths.

He chuckled, “Just another day at the office, isn't it?”

When he heard nothing from you, but quiet coughs and faint, painful groans, he added in hurry, still having the adrenalin in his veins, “C'mon, no lyin' down on the job!”

He started to walk out, but then you spoke up.

“Nathan...”

He turned to you.

He never wished to see that sight of yours.

You were laying down on the cold floor, gripping into your injuries, with a pained expression on your face. His eyes widen as he examined the plenty of blood on your clothes and your hand, and he promptly kneeled down to you.

“Shit!” He cursed. He didn't really know what do to. He slightly touched a scar on you, and you yelped in pain. He looked into your eyes with his terrified ones. “Okay, okay... The empty camp isn't far away”, he explained with an anxious tone. “I could patch you up there.”

“It really hurts”, you breathed out in fear, it made his heart sink and ache.

“Don't worry”, he shushed you, pulling you up into his arms and standing up. “I gotcha.”

It was the last thing you heard, because when he started to hurry down the stairs with you, all of the sudden you became really tired and you fall asleep in his strong and supportive arms.

~~~

When you woke up, your head and side started to ache in no time. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, looking around. You were under roof, that was a good thing to see first. It means you were hiding somewhere. ‘The camp...’ Indeed, the huge table you were lying on, wasn't the most comfortable.

‘But where's Nathan?’

You just had to turn your head to the other side. It was the cutest sight you have ever seen. He rested his head on the table, and one of his hands close to yours.

You were just staring at him first, but you took your courage and you touched his hand. It has a little blood on it, since he punched a few people, and he patched you up too. You caressed his hand with your thumb. You noticed that you didn't have any blood on your hand.

His hand moved a little, and your eyes were looking into his in a second. He seemed tired first, but he saw your hand on his, he looked at you with wondering eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah”, you said. “Much better.”

You wanted to tell him you felt even better, because he was by your side. Your love towards him grew bigger.

He was watching you with a lovely gaze, but when he realized that, he cleared his throat. “You looked pretty awful out there, didn't you?” You both chuckled.

“Thanks, by the way”, you said.

“Oh...”, he was thinking for a few seconds. “I just didn't wanted to leave all the enemies for you–”

You cut him off, “No, no, not the shot... I mean... thank you for saving me.”

He looked at you, completely confused. “Why do you thank me, doll?” He laughed, but he continued a bit more seriously. “You know I'd never leave you like that. Not now, not ever.”

This caught you offguard. He really said that. And he didn't even finished.

“Lemme tell you something”, he said. “Do you remember the day, when you saved me?” He smiled at the memory. “I could never forget it. You made a really risky decision–”

“You deserved to be saved–”

“–and you became their enemy, just because you helped me. I didn't saved you, because it was some kind of payback for that day, not at all!” He paused a little, to find words. “I did it because... because I don't know what would I do without you. I don't know what would I do, if they would hurt you even more”, he sighed, struggling to admit it. “I fell in love with you, since I've met you, Y/N.”

A tear streamed down from your eye, but he cupped your cheek and wiped it off with his thumb.

“I love you even more, Nathan Drake”, you smiled widely.

“What took us so long to admit it?” He whispered, and you laughed.

“That's a great mystery–”

But you've been cut off by him, kissing you. It was slow first, but as you returned the kiss, it became more passionate and deep.

He pulled back a bit, brushed the hair out of your face, leaving a light kiss on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. You ran your hand through his hair. He closed his eyes. He really loved it. Then he gently held your hand and left a kiss on your palm too, with the most handsome and beautiful smile you've ever seen on his face.

[bukojuiice]

the wedding booth  — eren jaeger

ೃ pairing: (eren jaeger x  fem! reader)

ೃ after being unwillingly dragged to plan and create a wedding booth for your first university festival, eren accompanies you to a bridal boutique. there, he contemplates about the future and all of the cheesy romantic stuff he wants to do with you.

ೃ genre and warnings: college au, lots and lots of fluff!

ೃ  my nav  →  my aot masterlist

ೃ 1k words

My Big Fat Greek Wedding, My Best Friend's Wedding, The Wedding Planner, Wedding Crashers... hell, even Mamma Mia.

If having to be forced to watch these romantic comedies about weddings doesn't give you the sudden urge to get hitched and run away to some tropical island, then you don't know what will.

For your very first uni fair at Shigashina University, your friends had proposed a Marriage booth. To be more specific, three of your friends did. Jean, Sasha, and Connie are the masterminds behind this stupid idea and it's all because of three things:

1. Jean is pining over Mikasa so so bad. So many years have passed and yet he still hasn't found a way to confess. And so, due to his pompous ass binge-watching stupid rom-coms recently, he thinks that if "fake dating" can bring two people together, then having a fake wedding with his unrequited crush of 12 years could finally make her fall for him too. He wants the booth to be as iconic as a wedding straight out of Las Vegas. Problem is, he's never been to Las Vegas, and his terribly unrealistic basis for wanting it to be as iconic as a "Las Vegas Wedding" is that one scene from The Hangover and that episode from Friends.

He was delusional and yet, he wanted to push through with this proposal no matter what. Nothing was going to stop him... not unless it was one of the three seniors whom you would be proposing this project to in the first place.

2. Sasha's goals are much normal. A bit odd, but still normal and not as desperate as Jean's. All she wants is to get Ymir, the captain of the school's soccer team to confess to Historia, the freshman Bio-Chemistry student who works part-time as a library assistant (and whom everyone secretly fawns over for. she's just that damn cute.) However, the real reason as to why she helped [rp[pse this stupid marriage booth to get them to finally confess to each other is anyone's guess.

3. Connie thinks he's gonna get clout from this. Rise up the university hierarchy perhaps? He's treating the entire festival like it's high school all over again. He prays that the marriage booth will become the hottest thing in the festival, then he'll instantly become that cool and bad-ass freshie whom everyone wants to be friends with. Either way, if the booth is going to be a success or not, you know for a fact he's never going to be a part of the "cool kids" (good lord, can you believe people still use that term in college?) and he's gonna be stuck with you and your other friends for the rest of the years to come.

It didn't take long before they finally finished their elaborate PowerPoint Presentation (despite Connie insisting that Powerpoint is boring) that they were going to pitch to three of the principal members of the student council. Namely, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, and Hange Zoe.

It was gonna be an automatic no for Levi, obviously. Nothing could ever get past that man. But if they can somehow convince Erwin and most especially Hange to get on board with their stupid scheme, then the booth was good to go.

Now, here you are, in a bridal boutique. Purchasing some simple wedding dresses that will serve as your rent-a-dress service for the Marriage booth.

It wasn't originally a part of the plan. Not at all.

However, Hange would only approve of the project IF the wedding booth was going to be made into something more elaborate and memorable. They didn't want something as simple as printing out fake marriage contracts, cheap tulle fabric wedding veils, fake plastic bouquets, and wedding pictures that came out of a polaroid camera.

Oh no no no. They wanted it to be extravagant. The cream of the crop. The absolute bomb. The best booth at the festival.

Hange saw potential in the idea and with an approved budget by the student council, you could make anyone's wedding dreams come true.

 Fast forward to a week before the event, you are currently on a shopping spree with Armin, Mikasa, and your boyfriend, Eren (because Sasha insisted he had the right proportions for the rental groom outfits. She totally did not ask him to come along so that he can see you try on wedding gowns.) to buy supplies, props, decorations, and everything else needed.

"(Y/N), we'll meet you and Eren at the bridal boutique, okay?" Armin proclaims, looking at the time on his wristwatch and struggling to balance the shopping bags on his other hand.  Mikasa notices how much he's been struggling and offers to hold the bags for him.

"Sure! Don't forget about the list that Jean sent!" You shout back, turning to Eren as his fingers interlace with yours, making your merry way to the boutique whilst Armin and Mikasa go off the other direction.

"Don't get too excited." You joke, nudging Eren on the arm. "I'll just be trying on these dresses for the booth."

There's a particular glimmer in Eren's emerald eyes, chuckling at your quip. "Sheesh. Did you really have to remind me? Of course I know that. Besides, we're too young to even think about marriage right now. What's important is that I'm spending the best years of my life with you."

"Eren Grisha Jaeger, it is too damn early for you to make me a blushing pile of mess with your flirty comebacks." You deadpan, the heat rising up your cheeks as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.

The both of you laugh it off, shuffling into the store. The chiming bells of the shop door echo around the area as you look in awe at the luxurious dresses occupying every available space. The wafting smell of a vanilla pinecone scent and the soft sound of a sewing machine doing its work. There was a homey and rustic feel to this boutique that made you feel like you were sent back in time.

From great flouncy pieces adorned in layers of lace that rolled like ocean waves to more humble designs, albeit of the finest cloth.

This plethora of finery- reminds you strongly of the many genteel ladies depicted in those books and historic romances you used to read and watch. Like that of Pride and Prejudice or Sense and Sensibility.

Having the opportunity to enter a boutique such as this was a dream.

"Welcome! May I help you find anything?" A seamstress appears from the register. She looks at you from head to toe, as if trying to guess your measurements.

"W-we're looking for wedding dresses. Anything within the 200 to 300 dollar range? We don't need anything extra fancy, though! We'll just be needing them-"

Her eyes shift from you to Eren like she's suddenly a love coach, sizing the two of you up. "Yes, yes, young love! How sweet!" She chirps, breathing out a dreamy sigh. "Of course! For couples on a tight budget, we have-"

"We're looking for wedding dresses that can be used as costumes! Not too short and not too long either. W-we're not getting married or anything." You dismiss the seamstress with a wave of your hand. "I'm sorry if you thought of it that way..."

Although her shoulders visibly drop, the saleswoman still manages to smile. "Oh! I would like to apologize for assuming anything too!"

"Actually, mam, we do have plans sometime in the future." Eren grins cheekily, pulling you close to him. "Not today, of course, but we'll make sure to drop by in a few years!"

The saleslady's eyes lit up at Eren's vow. "Over here are some of our best-selling pieces! Ones that will certainly attract the eye of any groom!" She beckons you over to some mannequins lined up in the middle of the store, your gaze is drawn to the myriad of dresses on display as you walk throughout the space.

You turn back to Eren, studying him closely as he walks a few paces behind you, you thoughtfully wonder if the dresses you would pick out would match his taste.

She leads you to the back of the store to show the other garments and dresses embroidered with simplicity and yet elegance. You then pick two gowns up from their respective racks, satisfied with your purchase and making a beeline to the register to pay. However, the seamstress stops you from your tracks.

"How about this one, dear?"

You turn your attention to her, doe-eyed and curious as to what she was going to show you next.

"It is indeed a wedding dress, although not what you had asked for, the handsome young man did say something about your marriage plans. Perhaps this might help you visualize it? Give you an idea for the future, hm?" She hums wistfully, drawing your attention to the mannequin she placed in front of you. "It would be a shame if you left the boutique without trying anything on."

"(Y/N)?" You hear Eren's husky voice call out for you from the front of the store, "Armin just texted me. They can't find a specific prop in the crafts store so we might have to wait a bit longer for them."

"Okay! We can spare more time in the boutique, anyways." You answer back,  before turning your attention to the seamstress once more.

"Alright. I think I'll try it on then."

"Trying it on" turned out to be more than you had imagined. You thought you could just slip inside the dress and show it off. But nope. You needed a few adjustments to dress, adornments in your hair, and had to wear a wedding veil.

It was almost as if you were actually preparing to be wed.

"Good sir, your lovely missus is ready!" Yup, even the words of the seamstress made you feel like you were living in the 17th century right now. Did she really have to use such fancy words?

"Please, watch your step." The seamstress takes your hand and leads you out of the dressing room and right towards—

Eren who had been waiting in the shop proper.

"Doesn't she look beautiful?" She giggles, glancing at Eren for a response. "Well, I'll leave the two of you here first and bring the dresses you've chosen to the cash register first." In a wink, she's gone and had disappeared into the back almost before the words left her mouth.

The unfamiliar yet elegant garb makes you feel shy and the fact that Eren was gaping at you did not help at all. He was absolutely entranced by your beauty.

You unconsciously lower your head, tucking a strand of hair beneath your ear, unable to bear the thought.

"God, you're not just beautiful. Y-you look breathtaking."

He says in a barely audible whisper, pulling you to him once more.

Placing his hands on your waist, Eren plants a soft, tender kiss on your chest, the low-cut dress affording it easily. In a heartbeat, you feel your cheeks grow hot.

"Heh. Guess I got you again." He grins wolfishly, still admiring your beauty and tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I-I don't deserve you... I really don't."

"If you didn't deserve me, would you be here right now?" You say jokingly, raising your eyebrow.

"I mean it." He buries his face on the hem of your dress, his voice is muffled and soothing. "I can't believe you chose to love me." He looks up at you, eyes practically welling up with tears. "God, I honestly can't believe I'm crying right now, but, yeah... I am. That's how much I love you and how much I want to marry you right now."

You giggle at the expression your boyfriend has shown before you, stroking his hair and burying your fingers into his long brunette locks. "I love you too. But... why so sudden? You already told the saleswoman that we'll be back in a few years. She'd be surprised to hear you change your mind so easily."

"Well, if that's the case, then I better tell Jean to have us first on the list of the wedding booth then. We worked our asses off for this, might as well be the first to be blessed with the luck of that stupid booth."

You giggle once more as he continues to hold you so close. You feel his breath and his heartbeat. Each exhale and pulse brings you to the realization that Eren is the one. The man you want to be with for the rest of your life. The man who will help you through all your faults and mistakes, your burdens and troubles, through all the ups and downs... he will be there.

Just as you will be for him.

Guess those stupid movies centered around weddings weren’t so bad after all

.taglist: @crapimahuman​

[dodo-begone]

It's Tough to be Mortal

Pairing: God!Reader x Hermitcraft

Request: DODO MY BELOVED DO YOU REMEMBER THE CONVO WE HAD ABOUT GOD READER. WOULD YOU BE COOL WRITING THAT BESTIE?

Word count: 4k

Grian was standing in front of his mansion, debating on what needed revamping. Sure it was already enormous but there was something missing about it. It’s been bothering him for ages. An answer that always seemed to appear was something others would call outlandish. Something more than unnecessary.

His mansion needed to be taller.

Did his mansion already tower over the rainforest that lay before of it? Yes. Did it also go pretty far below ground level? Also yes. A grand mansion like this must have something to separate it from the surrounding area. The moat-like feature couldn’t be small either. No, that’d be an injustice to the mansion. What he needed was something to-scale for it. Though it’d be nice if his nether portals would actually fit in the little arches he dug out…

“Hey Grian!” a voice suddenly appeared. It’s unexpected entrance made it seem like a bellow and it was absolutely terrifying to hear.

Grian shrieked, jumping around to see who disturbed him from his thoughts. There, behind him, was little ole you. If he weren’t so spooked, he would’ve found your expression rather hilarious.

Your face was a gorgeous combination of joy with a hint of confusion. The expression was similar to one Grian wore often. He mostly wore it when he was found pranking the other hermits. Although you did many pranks alongside him, it didn’t seem like you were trying to pull on now. “Seem” being the key word. Appearances can be deceiving after all.

“Why hello there,” Grian was grateful for your sudden appearance. Another set of eyes to help decide what was missing. It was like the gods just knew of his plight. “Why’d you come visit?”

“Oh I just wanted to chit-chat,” You reply, your eyes wandering to Grian’s most recent muse. “But you seem somewhat busy at the moment. I’ll come by another time.”

“Wait,” Grian still desperately needed an outsider’s opinion. “We can talk right now. I’m just trying to figure out what my mansion is missing.”

“Are you sure,” you prod. Talking to Grian after you interrupted him felt wrong. He was obviously busy and you disturbed him more than you should’ve. The creative process could be rather elusive once you have it, easily escaping the moment you stop thinking of it.

“Positive.”

“Well, if you insist,” you give in rather easily. How you craved interaction. And it was so readily available here as well. “I mostly came over to thank you.”

“Thank me for what,” Grian was beyond confused. First off you could be thankful for anything. Second off you didn’t need to thank him for anything. Third off he can’t think of anything he’d done for you that you hadn’t thank him for already. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, you know. Everything was a pleasure to do.”

“But i still feel like making you aware,” you reply so nonchalantly to him. In a way it seemed like you didn’t care what he had to say in reply. He knew you did care, you’ve shown you cared in the past. But now it seems to be the opposite. It must’ve been like one of those cases where you don’t listen to a friend when you help them because they think they’re a problem. That’s what it feels like anyways.

“You and the hermits made me realize so many things about life I had either long forgotten or never realized,” your words were spoken in such a soft manner, like you were dreamily reliving whatever you were referring to.

“Again, it wasn’t a problem at all,” Grian reiterated himself. He didn’t want to seem rude but at the same time it honestly wasn’t something that bothered or irked him. Although he may not have realized he was helping you with that, it was nice to know you felt great about your interactions together.

You looked like you were far from finished talking though. So Grian decided to listen to your words. Maybe look at what needed fixing with his mansion. No, that’d be rather rude.

“With our interactions together,” you were restarting whatever you were saying. Oh boy. “the small joys of life have been revealed to me. For example, I never knew those loud boxes of yours had any significance besides just making a loud noise. Well they are made to make noise, but I was unaware of the significance besides that. Now, through you, I have found the sounds rather joyful. I never knew you could trap music in a box until now.”

Grian had been beyond confused with your description. It felt odd and awkward. He only figured out what you meant when you said “music in a box”. Either you meant a music box or a jukebox. Everyone knew what a music box was; everyone had interacted with one in their lifetime whether they remembered it or not. Jukeboxes were also a well known item. Your experience with them felt odd to hear. Very alien. Who doesn’t know what a juke box is?

“Oh don’t even get me started on those little slimy critters,” you excitement seemed to grow exponentially. If he weren’t there to see it, he would have a hard time picturing what that description would entail. “The slimy ones are slugs, right? I think they’re slugs. Not those square ones, no i know those are Slimes. But the cylindrical ones, i think that’s what you call that shape, that most people find rather unpleasant. They live in gardens. Yes, those. I never got to experience them up close until recently. Also the little slugs with shells.” You pause, a look of deep concentration covers your face. A few times you try to restart your description with the name but come up empty.

The pause is long enough to give away that you most likely didn’t remember the name of what you described at all. It was rather cute because you were so deep in thought about it. You looked around too, like anything could give you a clue as to your mystery animal.

“Do you mean snail,” Grian prompted. He was giving you a stick to latch onto. Watching you flail for an answer any longer would be cruel.

“Yes,” you reply gleefully,” those things. Snails and slugs are so sweet. I can’t believe people can dislike them so much. They regard them as pests but they’re just little wonders. It’s so hard to see why people dislike them. Is it because they’re slimy, like blood?”

That description felt like a record scratching or stopping; it felt like the mood got changed completely. “Excuse me,” Grian laughed nervously. He simply must’ve misheard. “Could you repeat that?”

“I absolutely can- wait, which part do you need,” your confusion was rather evident. Did you really have no clue where the problem lay?

“The snail and slug part. Where you were wondering why people didn’t like them. What was the reasoning you gave?”

“Oh that! I said, ‘is it because they’re slimy, like blood’” You reply so helpfully. A child-like glee seemed to emanate from you.

“I don’t think that’s exactly why people dislike them,” Grian began. He didn’t know how to bring it up to you that your description wasn’t wrong but also wasn’t right. “Some people dislike them because they eat, destroy or kill their plants. Or they have a plethora of them where they’re unwanted.”

“Oh,” somehow his answer saddened you. “So they treat them like unwanted kittens?”

Again, you weren’t wrong nor were you exactly right. It just didn’t exactly sit right with him. Because yes, they could be treated like unwanted kittens.

“Sure,” It was simpler to just go along with it. After all, the general idea wasn’t wrong. Anything unwanted was a pest in someone’s eyes and therefore treated like one.

“Oh the poor things,” you start to tear up. “Why do people treat them like that?” You’re tearing up over snails and slugs? This is going to be a long explanation as to why they’re treated so horribly. He really didn’t want to have to break your heart further over the slugs and snails, but your pained yet curious eyes just begged for more information. It was going to be a long day.

______________________________________________________________

The clicking of redstone echoed around the cavern. After a long chain of clicks, lights flickered and moved. It was like the sun, although the appearance was shoddy and limited considering what it was made of.

It’s creation was for one purpose; to replicate the sun but underground. A quirky clock. Very large and eye catching. Much more eye catching than a regular clock anyways. The ceiling was partially ripped out, revealing the dazzling rays of sunlight that peaked over the horizon.

Zedaph, the creator of this magnificent creation, stood below it. Both looking at it in awe and scrupulously. He was only at the beginning stages but this played a key part in showing the progress. Was he actually doing everything right? It already moved once but it did that last time. Oh it’s getting close to changing now, or should be. “Zedaph,” you flung yourself at him, hanging onto him as you two went down. Although not the most pleasant entrance, it was rather endearing. “Oh sorry about that! Looks like I got a wee bit over excited.”

“It’s alright,” you two got off the ground, you much more gracefully than him. “It didn’t hurt too much.”

“Oh my gosh I hurt you,” you frantically search Zedaph over, looking for any sign of damage you might have caused. “Oh i am so so sorry I didn’t mean for any of that to happen I just-” “I said it’s alright,” Zedaph reiterates, gently pushing you away. “I’m perfectly fine. See?” He even does a little twirl for you.

You don’t seem convinced, not in the slightest. But your second attempt to search him gets declined and you’re forced to believe him. At least somewhat.

“So what brings you around here,” Zedaph inquires. “I know my indoor sun-clock system is pretty awesome, but it’s far from complete. And there isn’t really anything else in the cave of contraptions either.”

“I’m well aware of that,” your reply is odd, but easily overlooked. All of the other hermits have their quirks, after all. This is no different. “But I came over for other reasons.”

“Other reasons?” “Well not reasons,” you correct yourself. “What I actually mean is reason. I don’t know why I said reasons. Why did I say- anyways I just wanted to talk with you.”

“Some good ole talking with me,” Zedaph had to clear any doubt, even though there really shouldn’t have been any. “Well I’m quite honored to have you over to talk. What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh I simply wanted to discuss the differences between Hermitcraft and other servers. I knew Hermitcraft was different but I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. That was until recently. That “eureka” moment hit me and I just had to share with someone.” Your self satisfaction was undeniable and honestly somewhat charming in the way you were so pleased and proud by your actions.

“How so,” Zedaph inquires. He wants to listen to you, he really does. But redstone is just calling his name and how can he deny it. So he starts to fiddle with some redstone. Find a way to do the decline of the sun for his clock. He could easily listen to what you were saying and figure this out, right? It couldn’t be that hard.

“So I noticed how everything is so nice and peaceful here,” you remark, slowly following him. “It’s like one of those fairytales you share to your children. So absolutely perfect. Then there are others where chaos reigns like there’s no god but itself. You know what I’m saying.”

“Uh-huh,” Zedaph mindlessly agrees with whatever you just said. “Fairytales are like that.”

“Excellent,” you quietly cheer in joy at his supposed “understanding”. “So anyways this place is so much less malevolently chaotic and more playfully chaotic. And I recently realized something. Something that you guys don’t do that many other servers do. Are you aware of what that is?”

“Yea sure,” Zedaph started to fiddle around with the placement of droppers and redstone. “Go right on ahead.”

“Okay! So what you guys don’t do is something many other servers do- oh I just mentioned that. But anyways! There’s so little violence, it’s truly wonderful, don’t get me wrong. I must inquire though, do you expect there to be any violence? Anytime soon for that matter?”

Zedaph gives a simple “no” before his mind and hands are back onto the redstone before him.

“Well that’s great yet terrible,” you sigh in disappointment. “A true tragedy. Guess I need to go to another server again.”

Those words caught Zedaph’s attention rather quickly. He’d only half listened before but you now had his entire attention.

His mouth spoke faster than he could think. “Why would you go somewhere else? Especially for violence?”

He turns to you and is greeted with your confusion. Perplexion shows itself well on your face, accentuated by a small head tilt. It was a silent way of asking “are you really asking this” or a simple curiosity. Either or really. Yet this didn’t clear his confusion at all. If anything, it made everything just that more muddled. Why are you acting like he should know the answer?

“No I genuinely don’t understand. Can you please explain?” Zedaph hoped you could actually clear his confusion rather than make it worse. You had to. After all, people usually start to clear up what they said after you ask at least once or twice.

“Well you guys have no violence,” You reply so matter of factly. This still doesn’t help. Zedaph’s mild fear and confusion must’ve been evident as you continued with your explanation. “It’s rather simple really. I feed off of violence, in a crude description of it. And I could spark some conflict here rather easily, get my fill without having to leave. But I like you guys too much to just make you suffer so. That’s why I asked. Because if I did it, the conflict would be so much worse than what you guys would create.”

Zedaph was baffled and stumped. Okay that made sense yet didn’t all at the same time. Like yeah some people thrive off of drama, so violence could be similar-ish. He was just making excuses at this point. He really didn’t understand any of that.

“And you guys rarely make sacrifices as well,” you muse, not taking into account that you lost Zedaph literally ages ago.

“Excuse me did you say “sacrifices” because I must’ve heard wrong. Nobody really makes sacrifices in this day and age.” Zedaph was getting more unnerved with each new thing you mention. It’s like the more you talk, the worse everything gets.

“Yeah I said sacrifices. Gosh you’re so silly,” you giggle at his “ignorance”. “People still make sacrifices! You just aren’t in the right crowd when it happens, that’s all.”

“Okay and uuh,” his confusion blurs everything ever more. How could he nicely and politely state this? Is there a nice way to state or ask what in God’s name was going on? “What do they sacrifice, exactly?”

“You know, the usual things,” another answered in a manner that just screamed “you should know this man”. Like a teenager with their fads. “Like items and that jazz. Things that are deemed “important” or whatever. You know, the usual sacrifice stuff.”

“No, I have no clue why,” his irritation was becoming very apparent. “That’s why I was asking.”

“Oh well I’m no good at explaining this type of stuff,” you mutter, going deep into your thoughts. “You know what? I should get going. I don’t want to bother you much more.”

Zedaph sees you walk out a door and tries to stop you, yet you’re gone before he knows it. You just magically poof away the moment you’re out of sight. Wow you are just so darn fast. The awkward energy became too much? Or was it the explanation that chased you away? Did he pressure you too much?

Questions ran rampant in his mind after your interaction. He wanted answers for them, but he’d have to wait until he saw you again to ask.

______________________________________________________________

Many other odd events go on across the server. Each having one thing in common: you. You were in every interaction where something odd was mentioned or happened. After stories were traded about your interaction with each of them, it finally became too much to ignore. Yes, all of them had little quirks or be quirky in general, but this was excessive. Maybe it was just the style you did things, but they needed confirmation.

So they called together a meeting. One where everyone could hear what you had been up to and these anomalous events.

Around their little circle they went, each recounting your actions and the events that happened afterwards. With each person you became more peculiar, more of a figure to be gawked at. There were so many things and all so incredible.

Doc recounted how you were helping him with his redstone and in turn trying to learn the redstone Doc was doing. It was supposed to be a day-long-ish lesson for you two. Everything had gone well, quite normal, in fact.

You were rather studious, watching his actions slowly and taking all he did into memory. A few questions were brought up, which was also a normal thing. Redstone was a rather confusing subject. But then an odd question came out of practically nowhere. Nothing prompted it, as far as Doc was aware. Well, one thing could’ve but even then it was farfetched.

He had mentioned how he was a block or two short on what he needed. A block that’d fit the color scheme of the farm he had been working on. And you simply asked if he needed a block because you had one on you. He replied with a simple yes and that should’ve been the end of the interaction, besides the transition of said item.

Dropped into his unsuspecting hands was a block of bedrock. It was black and grey. Something that went with what he was building with. So he placed it down without much of a second thought. But when he tried to move it later on, he realized what had happened. Though how it all exactly happened was a mystery. How could you have gotten some bedrock?

When everybody at the meeting had shared what was going on, it was clear. Clear but not clear. It was like you had some powers. Admin powers, to be exact. But you weren’t an admin. Far from it. You had only recently joined the server. So that begged the question; how did you obtain those items and why were you reacting the way you were?

Your actions seemed to hold little to no regard for those you found “unimportant” but hyperfocused on those you did. Aloof was another way to describe your demeanor. An aloof person that held a regal air around them. Like nothing could touch them.

Their chatter was growing in volume the longer they were together. Arguing ensued over what could be going on. Was some mythical force at work? Were you some type of hybrid? A hybrid with powers they were unaware of? Were you a hacker? The possibilities were nearly endless but one thing was certain; you were not a normal hermit.

A loud cough broke through the cacophony of voices, effectively silencing them. Confusion soon took hold of the group. Wait, everyone was here though. And nobody in the circle did it. Right? It didn’t sound like any of them, at least. Another cough was released and almost every head in that circle whipped toward the direction the cough originated from. Their answer stood behind them, at the entrance.

You stood there, a confused look adorned your face along with a little head tilt. Why were you here? Did anybody invite you? They didn’t remember inviting you. At least the majority of them didn’t.

Scar quickly got out of his chair, walking over for a hug and some greetings. He thanked you for coming and gave you the unfortunate news that the meeting was coming to a close. Man he really told you the wrong time, huh? That was his bad.

You simper, shifting your view over to the remaining hermits. Grin widening, you give them a squinted smile and a little hand wave.

It was obvious now, didn’t need to be said. But it seemed Scar had invited you along as well. They really should have specified who needed to come to the meeting instead of “everyone” because- well this could work in their favor.

“So what’d I miss,” you ask, making your way over the hermits with Scar by your side. “Scar didn’t exactly tell me what this was all about. But he didn’t know either. Did you all miss some information when you were inviting people?”

They look between each other, trying to find someone with the courage to break the question to you. One of them had to do it, but which one of them would?

Finally a brave soul spoke up. It was their admin, Xisuma. Grateful couldn’t even describe how they felt when he started to talk to you.

“We’ve actually been meaning to ask you something,” Xisuma speaks in a measured and steady tone. One that gave away no weakness he might’ve been experiencing. Like anxiety or how awkward it was to even ask someone something about themselves. Something that would, in usual cases, be seen as an insult or something akin to that. A negative thing.

“Oh,” you play his game, humoring him and going along with the unspoken script. “What do you want to know?”

“It’s actually quite simple really,” Xisuma starts, but soon pauses again. A few false starts later and he’s back on his feet, metaphorically anyways. “This is going to sound very odd and quite possibly rude. But are you, um, are you a god, by chance?”

Silence came to suffocate the room after his question came out into the open. The air was tense with anxiety.

“Oh yea that,” you giggle. “Yea I am. So what?”

“I’m sorry, but did you say “so what”?” Xisuma wanted clarification because there was no way you just answered with that. “So what”? That was definitely an unexpected answer. Honestly they weren’t expecting too much or too much. It was hard to tell.

“Yes I did,” you speak your words slowly and methodically, checking the reactions of everyone in the room. Like a switch your words flow from a molasses like pace to water. “Look I’d absolutely love to get into this and talk with you all about this in depth, but it really isn’t a good idea. I haven’t had the best experiences with explaining this type of stuff with… well with beings like you.”

Everyone was giving each other looks, silently asking each other “is this really going on” or “Excuse me, what now”. Silence settles over the group again. You leave them some time to ponder over the news, but not enough for it to cause any trouble. At least that’s what you think.

You clap your hands and it echoes around the room, once again catching everyone’s attention. “Look like I said, I’d love to explain this all to you. This isn’t the best time though. So why don’t we just chill out? Talk to each other like the friends we are! You guys have cookies, right? Scar said you guys would have cookies.”

[cyraclove]

Higher Pursuits

BOTW Grad School AU

-

-

“...so, if you do decide that you’ll be writing a thesis in lieu of the comprehensive examination, I’ll be the one you’ll need to speak with.”

Zelda scribbled furiously in her notebook as Dr. Kaneli continued to speak, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose every few minutes like clockwork. He’d come to Dr. Teba’s diagnostics lecture that morning to speak about research opportunities, accompanied by several of his current research assistants. 

“No need to decide right this moment, of course,” he said, “but we will be needing your name and thesis topic by the end of your first year if you do select that track.” 

Thesis by end year one, she scrawled onto the paper. 

God, a thesis. She’d dreamt of this moment. 

Had Zelda ever wanted anything more than to write a thesis? What greater pleasure was there than to delve so completely into research that you know every facet of it like you know the letters of your own name? The plethora of potential opportunities was exhilarating, her mind running rampant at the very notion of selecting one. 

A hand suddenly covered hers, causing her pen to scratch to a halt. 

She glanced up to see Link staring at her, an eyebrow cocked in her direction. 

“What?” She whispered, “I’m taking notes.” 

‘Just listen,’ he signed, ‘You don’t have to write down every word he says.’

She felt a smile tug at her lips as she rolled her eyes. “We’ll see who’s coming to who with questions in a few weeks.” 

Link grinned brightly, waving a hand at her in dismissal. 

“My personal field is neurological disorders,” Kaneli explained, recapturing Zelda’s undivided attention, “and if you have any interest in my research, do let me know. I am always in need of hardworking graduate assistants. It’s not easy work, mind you, but we do have fun.” 

The professor then paused to smile at a young man seated amongst the other second year students In the front row. 

“I’m sure you can attest to that, Mr. Medoh,” he teased cheerily. A few of the others around him chuckled lightly. 

From where she and Link were sitting in the lecture hall, it was impossible to see his face. Even when craning her neck a bit, Zelda could only glimpse locks of raven hair that dusted the man’s shoulders, several strands pleated into delicate braids while some was piled atop his head in a haphazard bun. 

Medoh, she wrote hastily in the margins. 

Link tapped the table to get her attention before furrowing his brow and asking, ‘Why?’. 

She shrugged. “Might be good to have second year connections. And quit reading over my shoulder.” 

Link’s face took on a sly expression as he eyed her curiously. With two fingers, he gestured a circle around his face before pointing to the man in the first row. 

“Handsome?” Zelda scoffed, “How can I think that he’s handsome when I can’t even see him? You hush.”

He waggled his brows at her. ‘I’m not talking,’ he signed. 

“You know what I mean,” she said. “You can make that joke all you want and it still won’t be funny.” 

“Ah, does someone there in the back have a question?” 

Zelda’s face prickled hot as nearly everyone in the room swiveled around to look at her. She froze, damning her immoveable tongue for not immediately coming to her rescue with a response. She barely heard Link sniggering beside her as she stared blankly at Dr. Kaneli, an expectant look on his face. 

Her gaze was drawn downward to a pair of green eyes staring up from beneath thick, dark lashes. 

The young man that Kaneli had called Mr. Medoh was now looking directly at her, incredulity marring his brow. His sharp, almost bird-like features gave him a stern appearance, the strong cut of his jaw curtained by wisps of hair. The striking emerald of his irises was offset by the deep, rich tone of his bronzed skin. 

Oh. He was handsome. 

Someone cleared their throat.

“Ms. Farore,” Dr. Teba prompted from his seat in the corner, “did you have a question or didn’t you?” 

“Oh, no. Uh, sir. No, sir,” she stammered, “I didn’t...um, no. Sorry.” 

Teba pursed his lips and hummed his disapproval, but said nothing more. He instead encouraged Kaneli to continue, apologizing for the interruption. Zelda’s pulse thundered in her ears as she caught a hint of a smirk on the dark-haired man’s face just before he turned back around. 

She wanted to die. 

And, maybe, smack Link. 

The remainder of the lecture went quickly, though Zelda registered only a quarter of anything that was said. She still felt hot with humiliation, her embarrassment taking the uncomfortable form of sweat; she could think only of how badly she wished she had a stick of deodorant and a new blouse. 

When Kaneli and Teba finally concluded and announced dismissal, Zelda slumped down into her chair and covered her face with her hands. She sat amidst the shuffling of papers and zipping of book bags, letting the rest of the class file out until she and Link were the only two left in the large hall. 

When she finally peeked through her fingers at Link, she saw him looking just as remorseful as he could, signing ‘sorry’ on his chest. 

Zelda sighed. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I’ve already forgiven you, you know that.” 

He beamed at her, and she suddenly remembered why it was impossible to ever be cross with him in any capacity. He stacked his fists then, twisting one atop the other as he raised his brows in question. 

“Yeah, coffee sounds good. You’re buying.” 

_ 

The Café Bar was bustling with students just being released from class, flocking in from outside to escape the chilly October air and scrambling for a place in line. Others stood idly by and scouted for empty tables, often to no avail. Though there were several places to go for coffee on campus, the little, locally-owned coffee shop that sat just near the university was by far the most popular. 

The gentle hiss of milk being steamed and the pleasant gurgle of fresh coffee brewing could just be heard above the sound of light jazz mingling with idle chatter. Cups and saucers clinked as they were cleared from tables. Zelda inhaled deeply, the comforting scent of espresso a welcome respite. 

“I have a vanilla latte with extra whip on the bar!” 

She nudged Link with her elbow to get his attention. They had managed to procure their favorite spot; a small circular table over by the large bay window that sidled right up to the window seat. He looked up from his phone. 

“That’s you,” she said. He nodded and stood with a smile, lightly touching her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze as he slipped behind her. Zelda smiled to herself before returning to the article that she’d been perusing, a clinical research study on the affects of naturalistic treatment protocols on aphasic patients. She’d not even read five words when she heard her name being softly called from across the café. 

“Zelda, over here.” 

A petite, red-headed young woman came striding towards her, her arms piled with books. Zelda hopped up from her chair to lighten her load, carefully taking a few of the books off of the top. 

“Oh, Mipha, let me help you. Where’s your--wait, here, set them on the table.” 

She thanked her profusely as she plunked the remaining books on the tiny table, making it wobble sadly on its narrow legs. She slid onto the window seat, shrugging her blue sweater from her shoulders. Her cheeks were a pretty, wind-bitten pink as she smiled warmly, releasing a sigh of relief. 

“I thought you’d already gone home,” Zelda said, “And what are all of these for?” 

 “Oh, these are my textbooks for this semester. I’ve just been to the bookstore to pick them up,” she explained. She screwed up her face. “They didn’t have the one I need for my biochem class, though. I preordered that one, too.” 

“You need all of these?” Zelda asked, brows raised in awe as she mentally tallied the books. 

Mipha nodded resignedly. “Yes, all of them. That’s what I get for deciding to get my master’s in marine biology, I suppose. I’m on my way to the apartment, but I thought I’d stop and grab a latte or so—” she paused, copper eyes shifting their attention from Zelda’s face to just behind her. “Oh, Link, hello.” 

Link nodded cheerfully at Mipha with a mug in one hand and a plate holding the largest muffin that Zelda had ever seen in the other. She kicked out his chair for him with her foot and he sat, gingerly placing his coffee on the table. He signed ‘thank you’ with his free hand, the other still absentmindedly clutching the plate as his eyes swept the café. Mipha and Zelda gave one another a quick, knowing look.  

“Sidon’s still at the rec with Bazz,” Mipha mentioned, a smile in her voice, “He told me to tell you ‘hi’, though.” 

Zelda watched Link’s jaw visibly clench as he sucked in a breath through his nose. 

‘He did?’ 

Mipha nodded. 

Link bit the inside of his cheek, and then quickly shrugged and focused his attention on making a dent in the mountain of whipped cream on his coffee. 

‘That’s cool,’ he told her, ‘Tell him hey, I guess.’

The redhead turned to Zelda for a translation; she was with the two of them so frequently now that she’d been able to pick up quite a bit of ASL, but still needed occasional help. Zelda found that Link was particularly difficult to understand when the subject of conversation was Sidon, simply because his hands moved twice their normal speed. 

“He said to tell Sidon that he’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen and that he’d love to go on a date sometime,” Zelda answered casually, unlocking her phone to open up her article again. 

Link nearly choked on a piece of muffin. 

“I have an americano with cream on the bar!” 

“Be right back,” Zelda chimed as she got up to get her drink, looking back briefly to see Link signing ‘wrong’ on his chin repeatedly. She chuckled inwardly and turned back around, only to collide with an oddly familiar looking green cardigan. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, backing up, “That’s my fault. I wasn’t even paying attention.” 

“Evidently not.” 

Zelda’s eyes flicked up at the foreign voice, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized with whom she was speaking.

Oh, shit. 

Handsome braids guy. 

“Uh, hi. Again,” she muttered, hopelessly lost for anything else to say. 

He gave her a queer look. “Again?” 

“Um. I mean, yeah. You were just in Dr. Teba’s lecture? You came with Dr. Kaneli. For the, uh, research. Thing.” 

The corner of the young man’s mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Right. You didn’t have a question.”

Zelda felt her cheeks burn at the very mention of the incident, her chest tightening at the memory. The man raised a brow at her, an irritatingly amused expression on his face. She felt her eye twitch. 

“Yes, well. If you’ll excuse me. Sorry, ag--” 

A barista interrupted.

“Americano with cream to-go!” 

Green cardigan stepped up to the bar to accept the coffee, thanking the woman who’d handed it off with an actual smile. Zelda watched him, dumbfounded, as he hoisted his messenger bag up onto his shoulder and glanced in her direction for a fraction of a second before heading for the door. 

“Wait!” 

The words had flown out of her mouth before she’d even had time to register them. Perfectly annoyed, he stopped to turn and face her, his eyes on her in silent query. 

“About Dr. Kaneli’s research lab,” she began, “are there still spots open for new assistants right now?” 

His demeanor changed at the question and he adopted a defensive, almost territorial stance. He studied her closely, eyeing her with an uncomfortable thoroughness; as though he were sizing up a rival. 

“Yes,” he drawled, “Why?” 

“I’d like to apply,” she responded, maybe too quickly. 

He sucked his teeth. “Interesting. Well, come by the office at the clinic if you want an application. They’re due in a week.”

Zelda grinned, nodding excitedly. “Oh, that’s excellent. I’ll definitely be by, then. Thank you, um...” she paused, chewing her lip, “Sorry. What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

Making for the door once again, he left Zelda with her mouth partly open, staring after him in quiet disbeleif. His fingers brushing the handle, he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. 

“It’s Revali,” he said, and was gone. 

Zelda stood in place for a while until he was completely out of sight, her mind fumbling with the entire interaction. Her stomach had twisted itself into a squirmy knot, a feeling with which she was unfamiliar. She felt like she’d somehow been both insulted and praised at the same time. 

Revali, she thought to herself.

What a dick. 

-

-

I hope you enjoyed this completely self-indulgent drabble of a Grad School AU that I’m considering. The more I think about this ship the more I like it. Thanks for reading! @botwrareships

[curvynerdfan]

Wolf of Kattegat

Thank you @boomhauer for requesting. This is the longest piece I’ve ever written totalling over 3.5k words. It has definitely put me in an Ubbe mood! I hope you enjoy it!

Ubbe x tattoo artist reader

Ubbe was giddy when he woke up Thursday morning. Hvitserk had managed to get Ubbe scheduled with his tattoo artist. His brother’s tattoo artist was renown in Kattegat and all of the surrounding cities.Their art was immaculate and it was surprisingly difficult for Ubbe to get an appointment without Hvitserk’s help. He could have always asked Ivar but that kind of frustration didn’t appeal to him.

It still shocked him that it was so difficult for him, a Ragnarsson, to get on the artist’s schedule. He knew she was phenomenal, that is why he was willing to wait. But who in their right mind would deny Ragnar Lothbrok’s son.They must be insane, it was very rare for someone to be unaware of his family’s line of work. The Lothbrok legacy was known across the country and no one dared cross them, those who did rarely lived to regret it. The High Seat Incorporation was involved in a plethora of business endeavors. It’s name paid homage to Odin and everyone’s deep seated belief that the Lothbrok family descended directly from the All Father.

While he could have gone to his typical tattoo shop, this tattoo was special to him. His father was referred to as the “Wolf of Kattegat” and he now felt confident in stepping down as leader and letting Ubbe take over. Bjorn took over foriegn affairs after his uncle Rollo’s betrayal. Many people thought that Bjorn would be the next leader of the Lothbroks, he was passionate about travel and felt like he was following in his father’s footsteps but still being his own man. Hvitserk’s role was much more on the criminal side of the business. He enjoyed participating in the night life and was typically running their club or meeting with unnamed business partners. . Ivar majored in architectural and mechanical engineering but always wanted to be involved in raids. He was also called in to retrieve information, when typical methods of torture just weren’t cutting it. .Lastly Sigurd was in charge of the creative qualities behind their business. Of course the family was involved in criminal activity but a majority of the business was legitimate. Sigurd helped with marketing, contracts and business relations. The new tattoo was going to signify Ubbe’s new status, while honoring his father at the same time. ========================================================================

“We aren’t open for walk-ins until 12pm darling,” she said without lifting her head, “ You’re three hours too early.”

“No, I believe I am right on time.” a gruff voice responded.

Y/N snapped her head up and almost gave herself whiplash. She had never seen a man this stunning and powerful in her life. She felt her jaw drop and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans. There were several pieces of jewelry adorning his body. A chain with several charms that looked like runes, a golden band resting on his wrist, and a skull ring were the most notable.

“I have an appointment with Y/N. I hope she is in. I even brought a peach green tea, like mother said.”, he gestured, lifting the large iced drink in his right hand while keeping his coffee in his left.

Ubbe was beginning to worry. While the girl behind the counter seemed nice and was no doubt talented based on the sketches he was staring at, she didn’t necessarily give off the vibe of the talented and high end tattoo artist responsible for the work he has seen on his family members. She was wearing an oversized cardigan and a pair of ripped jeans. Sure there were tattoos peaking out but the glasses resting on top of her french braided hair did not give off badass tattoo artist vibes. A smirk creeped across his face when he realized she was gawking at him and cleared his throat to get her attention again.

“ Ohh, um, yeah I can take you back and get you set up”, Y/N said with a small smile.

Ubbe followed the lovely lady through the back of the parlor and design studio, up a flight of stairs and was happy to see how professional Y/N’s workplace was. Not that the downstairs parlor was trashy, it was just obvious for the public. This area seemed intimate and very classy. A shapeable leather tattoo chair was in the center of the room. It appeared that the artist can manipulate the chair so the arm rests and leg rests could be extended or bent for the customer’s comfort.

“You can have a seat,” Y/N gestured to the chair “I’ll go make sure everything is ready.”

The girl walked out of the room and Ubbe couldn’t help but hope that she was going to get his artist. While alone, he took in the rest of his surroundings. The walls were pitch black but there were large windows with sheer curtains to keep the room light and airy. A massive mirror sat between the two windows so clients could check their work. There were also framed pieces of artwork scattered across the room. The tattoo cart sat to the side of the chair and could move as the artist pleased.

Ubbe realized he had been observing the space for a while and quickly sat down when he heard the door began to open. He tried to look relaxed and nonchalant so he stared at one of the art pieces, a muscular panther resting in a tree. It was a beautiful piece that seemed to possess raw power even though the beast was snoozing.

Y/N had quickly ran into her apartment once she got Ubbe settled in her studio. She made sure there was nothing in her teeth, added a quick swipe of lipgloss and sprayed some more perfume. The man in her studio was gorgeous. Everyone she questioned before accepting Ubbe as a client failed to mention that particular trait. He oozed power and an air of dominance. She could tell he was in charge of any situation but was confident instead of cocky. That trait obviously ran in the family.

“So, when will Y/N be here?”, Ubbe finally asked, he was really starting to doubt whether he’d be getting a tattoo today.

Y/N did a double take, “What? What do you mean, when will I be here?”

Ubbe looked shocked and he was astonished. Then she realized that neither of them introduced themselves..

“Oh wow! Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I’ll be your artist today!” she said with a sheepish smile,”I am sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’ll take that tea from you now.” she reached her hand out.

“My apologies, I assumed you knew what I looked like.”, Ubbe apologized.

He quickly handed over her drink, their fingers brushing when he passed the drink off. When Y/N reached to grab the drink, the oversized aztec-patterned cardigan fell off of her shoulder revealing detailed snake tattoos trailing across her left collarbone and shoulder.. It also revealed what may be a bralette or some kind of black laced tank top. Ubbe let out a huff when he took in her appearance for a second time. His eyes darkened when he realized how beautiful she really was. The fluffy and plain cardigan with what he believed were called ‘mom jeans’ gave her a demure and almost frumpy look. The outfit was definitely more for comfort than aesthetic. He couldn’t help but admire her body and the artwork that enhanced it. He also noticed chunky snake earrings dangling from her ears and a chain necklace caressing her throat.

“Alright, here is the finished tattoo outline. Please be honest and let me know if there is anything else we need to alter before we start. It won’t hurt my feelings. Every tattoo has a special meaning and I want you to be able to look at it with pride.” Y/N rambled before gently placing the sketch in his lap before setting up her rolling cart.

A small smirk rose on Ubbe’s face. While Y/N was obviously flustered, he could tell that she was passionate about her trade and dedicated to giving her clients the best experience possible. She wandered over to a black minifridge and patted the top of it where a keurig rested.

“While you look your tattoo over I can run through some basics I find important. Your brothers said you already have plenty of tattoos so I hope you know how to care for them properly. Either way, I have a set of printed instructions for you and I usually have customers come in a week after getting inked so I can lay eyes on it and make sure no touch ups are needed. I will also provide you with a healing salve and cleaning solution.” Y/N waved her hand over the fridge, “You’re getting a decent-sized tattoo with a significant amount of shading so we need to make sure to take breaks. I have a wide variety of snacks and drinks available. Feel free to stop me at any time for any reason. Today is all about making sure you have the best experience possible and the tattoo is something you love. That being said, do you have any questions or are there any alterations I need to make before we get started?”

Y/N finished her spiel and shrugged off the cardigan on her shoulders. Ubbe began to answer her, but lost his words when her body lost the cardigan. He was slowly beginning to realize that Y/N may be his dream girl. Her jeans were higher on her hips and he stopped breathing for a second when he came to the conclusion that she really was just wearing a bralette for a top. He could see a rose peaking out on her right hip and tried to stop himself from imagining how far down that design trailed.

A dainty giggle brought Ubbe back to the conversation again, ��Umm”, he shook his head to clear it, “No there is nothing I’d like to change and I will let you know if I have any other questions. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“Okie dokie then! Let’s get started!” Y/N said clapping her hands together. “Uh, I think you’re going to have to take your shirt off.” she stated, her voice slowly softened to a whisper.

Ubbe chuckled to himself and began taking his shirt off and Y/N gently told him to leave it on halfway. He wanted the tattoo on his right forearm so only his right side had to be uncovered. Her client’s comfort was always her first priority and even though she would love to see that hunk of a man completely naked, she knew it was better to be professional.

She began to lay the outline down where they had decided to place it and tried her best to keep her gaze from wandering to his delicious abs and bulging arm veins. Y/N softly grabbed Ubbe’s hand and dragged him in front of the mirror. Trying to guide the muscular man was a little more difficult than she had expected. She tripped herself up while leading him and felt his other hand wrap around her waist, in hopes of steadying her.

Ubbe notice Y/N get her boot hung up on a floor board and quickly grabbed her waist with the hand she hadn’t already claimed. He pulled her to him with his right hand and steadied her with his left. He let out a sigh of relief once they were both steady. Y/N gasped, and her free hand went to rest on his chest. Ubbe looked her over to make sure she was okay. His eyes trailed up her body, eyes pausing on the curve of her waist and again on her breasts before quickly trailing back up to her face. Y/N’s eyes were zeroes in on Ubbe’s face. Her eyes were trained on his lips. Ubbe let out a hum that Y/N could feel in the palm of her hand and snapped her eyes up to his.

“I, uh,” she shook her head, “yeah, um, look over the outline in the mirror and from other angles. Every once in a while a client can find an angle that ruins the aesthetic, so make sure you love where it is at.” she said, gently pushing away from him and walking over to grab her drink off of the cart.

The refreshing drink helped her clear mind and her throat. Ooo, that man made her heart race faster than anyone before. After a couple of long pulls from her drink she looked up and smiled when she noticed he really was analyzing the design from every angle.

“This tattoo means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”, her voice soft but curious.

He nodded his head and made his way to the chair, “ It really looks phenomenal the way it is Y/N, thank you.”

She blushed and let out a soft “thanks.”

He settled into the chair and she dragged her rolling seat and cart across the room. She pulled gloves onto her hands and got ready to start. She turned his arm to get the best angle and Ubbe began to speak again.

“You have no clue who my family is, do you?” Ubbe continued when she shook her head. “”We run The High Seat, it is one of the largest incorporations in the country and most definitely the most expansive in companies and investments. Have you ever heard of the Wolf of Kattegat?” he asked. When her eyes squinted in recognition, he continued, “He is my father, Ragnar.”

She stopped him to ask “Aslaug’s husband?”

He chuckled, he could only imagine what his mother spewed about his father,”Yes, that Ragnar. Anyways, he has decided to step back from the business and work more legitimate in a position of advisor. I am taking over as the Wolf of Kattegat. We are also the commanding family of Ansuz”, he chuckled darkly when she flinched, “now, doll, you have nothing to fear from me or my family. Let alone any of my heathens. My mother adores you. So do Hvitty and Ivar. Hate to say it but I think I am under your spell as well.”

“I-I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she said, paying careful attention to his arm,”and my reaction wasn’t all from fear, a majority of it was because it is hard to believe that I am that naive. The leader of the most dangerous crime organization is sitting in my chair.” she let out another giggle, this one reminded Ubbe of Floki, “hell, I even interrogated your family before deciding to take you as a client. Why didn’t you just make me?”

“Mother taught me better than to demand a woman to do anything and I admire your dedication”, he noticed your confused look, “You only tattoo those you believe you can trust. In turn, your clients, my family trusts you. It is like a badge of honor to say my wolf was designed and ingrained in my skin. I refuse to taint that by behaving like a pompous ass.”

She smiled at his description of her work. Y/N knew her practice of vetting clients was peculiar. Most artists were more focused on the money they can make off a client. She wanted to know the person she was leaving a piece of herself with. Y/N had spent over a hundred hours perfecting the piece she was now inking into his skin.

The next couple of hours were spent talking about his family, the stress of his new position, and so much more. Ubbe made sure to ask questions about her family, interests and upcoming projects. At the end of the session, Y/N felt like she had known him for years. The Wolf of Kattegat seemed very down to earth for such a renown crime boss and CEO.

When the tattoo was finished, she cleaned it and instructed Ubbe to look at it in the mirror. His eyes scanned the mirror several times enjoying the way the tattoo made him look and feel. He twisted his wrist several times, analyzing the way the light was hitting the wolf. Y/N was bouncing on her toes. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or nervous. Ubbe’s face suddenly lit up and he grinned from ear to ear and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of excitement.

She sat Ubbe back down and began reviewing how to care for the tattoo one more time while carefully wrapping his arm so the shirt wouldn’t irritate it. While she was elated that the god-like man before her loved her art, she knew he was about to leave. She felt like she truly knew Ubbe and the rest of the Lothbrok family. It hurt to think that it may have only been for the day.Once his arm was properly bandaged, she no longer had a reason to keep him with her. Y/N gently let him know it was finished. He immediately pulled out a stack of cash.

“Ubbe! This is too much! We already discussed price before you got here.”, Y/N said, exasperated.

“Yes , we did. That was before you brought this beautiful piece to life on my skin. That was also before I realized how important you would be to me.” He paused and let out a chuckle,” I will not ask you out today, lest you believe that is why I am paying you this amount. I am giving you this because you managed to make this tattoo more remarkable than I could ever imagine.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed when Ubbe implied his desire to date her. It was good to know that it was not a foolish desire held on her own. She loved his praise and was happy that he loved your most recent passion project. She also couldn’t help but feel empowered by his words.

“Thank you, Ubbe. I will see you in a week to see how it is healing.” she stated clearly trying to sound professional before leading him down the stairs and to the front of the shop.

Ubbe smiled to himself. He would not ask her out today, but he did make sure to slip his number into tha cash during one of their breaks. He only hoped she would notice it soon. The pair had carefully made it to the front windows of her shop. Both appeared to be thinking of a way to delay their goodbyes. Instead of procrastinating his eventual departure, Ubbe decided to embrace it and use it as an opportunity to embrace her as well.

Y/N froze when two burly arms wrapped around her waist. She slowly reached her arms up around him and rested her cheek on his chest. Ubbe took a deep breath of her vanilla scent and lightly pressed his lips against the crown of her head.

“Goodbye, princess”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

6:57 PM

So should I save your number in my phone under Ubbe or Wolf of Kattegat🐺?

@justahopelessssromantic @princessofthalia

[ryosei-hime]

Sex and Therapy: The Trigger

Concord gets off and everyone’s triggered! This chapter contains explicit sex as well as implied mentions of abuse and neglect. This is my first time writing smut and I’m just. *covers face*

Also available on AO3.

As Concord turned, Fizzarolli’s arm wrapped around his waist and slid him up the door until they were face to face. Concord tilted his head as Fizzarolli’s tongue ran up his neck before the jester descended on it. He must have really wanted that bite he’d been denied. The pressure of his teeth stopped just short of piercing flesh and Concord’s fingers curled in his shirt, a small sound of pleasure escaping. As he pulled away, his tongue flicked over the indents he’d left behind and Concord could already tell they would bruise.

“What a tasty little imp,” he purred. He ran a finger down his stomach and hooked it on the waistband of his pants. “I could just eat you up.”

Concord cried out as he bit down on his shoulder. This time he drew a little blood and sucked, tongue lashing around to find every drop. Fizzarolli’s long fingers slid down to fondle him, far gentler below the belt than above. Concord’s fingers dug into his neck as he held on, sucking in a breath as he tried to manage the pleasure and pain washing over him.

“Ah! F-Fizz...wait.”

Fizzarolli released his bite abruptly and Concord blinked, worried it was like when he’d told him to stop before. But Fizzarolli’s eyes were alert when he looked up at him.  

“I like that.”

“Biting?” Concord’s breathing was rough and he felt disoriented. “Well, I figured that out last night.” 

“The name. Say it again.” 

“Fizz?”

Concord’s breath caught in his throat as Fizz’s hand started working his shaft and he bit his lip. Those glowing eyes watched him intently, capturing every expression of pleasure his expert touch created. That piercing gaze should have unnerved him, but it only turned him on more. A combination of the shame and thrill of being seen so vulnerable clashed and sparked inside him. 

Fizz removed his hand, gaining a small whimper of protest from Concord. He pressed a kiss to his lips, tongue slipping in to explore his sharp teeth, tasting the coffee still lingering on his forked tongue. Fizz’s good arm formed a more supportive harness, holding Concord against the door and spreading his legs. The hand of this arm slid up his chest, pushing his shirt out of the way. 

Fizz let his tongue loll out of his mouth as their lips parted. While Concord tried to catch his breath, it lowered to trace the white splotches on his stomach like a game of connect the dots. That much attention being paid to his scars sent a spike of anxiety through him. As Fizz met his eyes again, he clearly noticed. The tongue stopped its roaming and made its way further south, Fizz’s free hand pulling at his pants. It wrapped around Concord’s cock, spiraling along the shaft. It constricted and released sending a plethora of sensations shooting through him. 

Fizz used the dextrous muscle to pull his face in, the pressure of that move adding to the pleasure of sliding into his now overly moist mouth. The bells on Fizz’s hat jingled as Concord’s hands slid up to grip them. Fizz’s tongue slithered up and down his shaft in a slow rhythm as he sucked on the head, constricting and releasing, up and down. Concord’s mind went fuzzy again. He could hear himself moaning Fizz’s name as if from a distance as Fizz increased and decreased the speed of his tongue, bringing Concord close before easing him back down until he begged for release. 

Fizz was happy to give it to him once he’d gotten his fill. He brought him to climax this time and Concord held his head down, the grip on his antenna turning his knuckles pink as he came. Fizz made eye contact, swallowing pointedly. 

As he pulled away, his tongue slid off, wet with whatever passed as his saliva and Concord’s cum. Concord whimpered softly but it was smothered again by Fizz’s lips, tongue probing his mouth. Concord could taste himself on Fizz’s tongue as it met his own. It was simultaneously mortifying and exhilarating. As he broke the kiss, Fizz chuckled at the flushed and dazed face staring back at him.  

“You tasted so good I felt selfish keeping it to myself.”

Concord let out an airy laugh and smiled like an idiot. He pulled Fizz’s head close again and kissed the heart on his forehead before releasing his antenna. Fizz let him down gently and reeled his arm back in while Concord pulled his pants up, turning his back to Fizz as he did so which seemed silly after all that. 

He looked for something to focus on and took the papers Cog left for them, looking over the repairs they’d need to make eventually. Fizz kneeled behind him and leaned against his back, arms hanging lazily over his shoulders as he looked at the paper in his hand. 

“Do you want to talk about what we should restore?”

“It’s your money,” he replied easily, resting his chin between Concord’s horns. “Whichever features you want to use. I recommend getting the vibrators working again. That could have really made things good.”

Concord could hear the devious smirk in his voice but he couldn’t smile anymore. He stared at the estimate for his tentacle mode as his anger over it came rushing back. 

“Cog told me...your tentacle mode was ripped out.” 

“Oh, you want the freaky features, huh?” Fizz asked with an amused, almost impressed, tone. 

‘“No. Well, I don’t think so. But that’s not important. It was a part of you. Don’t you have any feelings about whether or not it ever works again?” 

Fizz stopped leaning on him as he spoke. When Concord turned to face him, he had stood, putting as much distance between their faces as he could. He refused to look down at him and, when he answered, his nonchalant voice rang hollow. 

“It’s a feature. It’s for your benefit, babe, not mine.” 

“Did one of your owners tell you that?” 

“That’s how it is. No one had to tell me.” 

He took Fizz’s hand and while he didn’t resist, he didn’t return the gesture either. Concord had poked something he shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t just leave it totally unresolved. He could at least communicate his own intentions.

“I don’t want it to be that way. With you and me.” 

Fizz’s fingers closed around his and he smiled down at him, sharp-toothed mask in place. 

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Concord decided he didn’t like being called babe. Fizz seemed to use it when he wanted to distance himself while being compliant. His fingers slipped out of Fizz’s and he sighed.

“I guess, if you don’t want to talk about it, we’ll just have everything fixed.” 

Fizz kept smiling at him blankly, head tilting back and forth, bells jingling. Now Concord was unnerved. Why did he have to open his big mouth? He could have waited to bring this up. 

“Do you need time to yourself?”

“Whatever you want, babe.” 

“What I want is for you to be happy.” 

“Sorry, babe. Is this not happy enough for you? How about now?” 

Fizz’s already face-splitting grin somehow got wider. Concord’s chest hurt at the sudden sarcasm, the bite marks on his shoulder and neck aching as he stared at Fizz’s teeth. He felt the trust he’d so easily given to the robot slipping.

“Stop!” 

Fizz went limp and hung in the air like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Concord’s hand went to his mouth.

“No! I didn’t mean that. You can move.” 

“Thanks, babe.” His head snapped up, grin still manic and uncanny. “You’re a very generous owner.” 

“Don’t call me that!” 

“Which one?”

“Neither. Please.” Concord was on the verge of tears. “Don’t do this. I just want to help you.” 

“Help me?” Fizz cackled, bells jingling. “You can’t even help yourself. You were so in control yesterday. Sad, I fuck you once and now I can break you with a word. Babe.” 

Concord turned angry eyes on him, paper crumpling in his fist. But he stopped himself from retaliating. He took the time to breathe and count. Logically, he knew Fizz was only lashing out at him because he’d stirred up some traumatic memory. He couldn’t take it personally no matter how much it hurt. 

“I’m sorry I said anything to upset you. I really am. But hurting me won’t make your pain go away. And it won’t make me go away. If this life has taught me anything it’s how to take abuse. So, do your worst. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

Fizz’s face sank into a neutral expression as he watched Concord clench his fist in his shirt. Right where his scars were. His eyes flicked back to his determined face. 

“Can I put myself away?” 

That caused Concord to tilt his head in imitation of Fizz’s own habit. 

“...What?”

“You said I could have time to myself.” 

“Uh..yeah. You can have all the time you need.” 

Concord watched, completely baffled, as Fizz turned from him and opened the coat closet. He sat down inside and pulled his knees up to his chin before closing the door. Concord’s mind only made the connections once he was out of sight. 

Someone had put him away when not in use. 

His outrage had him wanting to pull Fizz out of there but it might have turned into a safe space for him over time. There was no way for him to know. And today was clearly not the day to talk about issues. He decided he needed a bath and to tend to his own wounds. He washed himself, careful with the bite mark that had broken skin. It stung in more than one way.

He berated himself for trusting so easily, but he knew that he’d let him do it again. As many times as it took to help him heal. He buried his face in his knees, shivering. He had let the water go cold, but he couldn’t get out. A punishment for letting his guard down.

“You’re such a little bitch, Concord.”

Her voice came back to him unbidden and his fingers gripped his horns as he prepared to withstand the familiar flashback. Only this time he could feel Fizz’s tongue probing the wounds, connecting the dots. 

[blainesebastian]

Prompt idea: I see Blaine being an autumn lover so Blaine dragging Sebastian to the mall to buy a plethora of fall-scented candles

this came to me quick today so i figured why not. thanks casey for the great prompt and for generally being amazing. also blaine deserves all the fall scents *uu*

1218 words 

“There’s not one leaf on the ground yet.”

Blaine grins over his shoulder at Sebastian, tugging on his hand towards the mall’s Yankee Candle store, “Aw come on, don’t be sour. It’s practically October and you know how I like to decorate early.”

“It’s August 31st and eighty-five degrees out.”

He turns to face his boyfriend before they can get to the store, his arms winding around the other’s waist. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes but leans down to press a kiss to the bridge of Blaine’s nose. “You’re chasing summer away.” There’s a slight pout to his tone, which only makes the shorter laugh.

“There’s a sale, I’m not passing this up, okay? I promise I won’t light one until at least…September 1st.”

“Okay, that’s tomorrow, not much of a deal.” Sebastian snorts as Blaine turns to yank him towards the store. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you’ve already started decorating our apartment while I was at work today.”

Blaine feels a soft blush kiss his cheeks and blotch the skin along the back of his neck, a sheepish tilt of his lips giving Sebastian all the answer he needs.

“Blaine.”

“What? It’s just a few pumpkins, a ghost wreath on the door…spooky tree in the bedroom.”

Sebastian shakes his head, running his other hand through his hair as they enter the candle shop. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Halloween is a feeling, not a season.” Blaine sing-songs as he begins browsing the rows upon rows of festive scented candles. He picks up one to read the back of it, something a dark maroon red and takes off the cap to breathe deeply.

Sebastian’s not even sure how he can tell the difference of what anything smells like in here, a hodge-podge of scents tickling his nose and almost immediately aggravating his sinuses. The things he does for Blaine Anderson, swear to God.

“Can you get me a basket?” His boyfriend asks, putting the candle back on the shelf.

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “What do you need a basket for, pick three and let’s get out of here.”

“The deal is five for ten.”

“You still don’t need a basket for five candles.”

Blaine gives him a look that apparently asks him do you not know me at all and nearly crosses his arms over his chest and oh my god—

“Blaine, we are not walking out of this place with ten candles.”

The shorter shrugs his shoulder before turning back to the shelves, moving further down the line to pick up an orange colored candle. “I’m not…confirming or denying that statement. I say we see what flavors we find.”

Sebastian groans, running a hand over his face.

“I’m gonna need that basket though…”

He turns quickly before he does something stupid like smack his boyfriend with a plastic sign nearby and walks to the front of the store to grab a basket. By the time he walks back to him, Blaine has three large candles in his arms, cradling them like babies, and sets them down into the basket with care.

Sebastian scrunches his nose, “Nothing with apple.”

Blaine frowns, glancing into the basket again, picking up a lime green candle labeled Orchard. “Why not?”

“Because I hate it.”

He purses his lips and uncaps the candle, shoving it towards Sebastian’s face. The heady scent immediately makes Sebastian sneeze and he smacks Blaine’s wrist away from him, the shorter covering his mouth as he laughs.

“You’re an ass.”

Blaine snickers, putting the candle back on the shelf. “Fine, no apple. Bless you.” He hands him a tissue from his pocket even though Sebastian grumbles out something not nice in response.

He leans over and kisses the taller’s cheek, moving to another aisle to look at the selection. Sebastian watches him pick out Pumpkin Patch, Vampire Blood, Haunted Mansion, Caramel Latte, and Autumn Leaves. He’s pretty sure they have similar scents in their storage closet where they keep all the candles but he’s not about to say that.

Blaine’s too happy anyways, smiling as he thumbs through a few other large candles, counting how many they have in the basket before adding two more. “You know, if they had these scents all year round it wouldn’t be so drastic when I finally do make it here to shop.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, picking up a vanilla candle and popping it open to smell. It’s far too sweet for his taste, “You’re acting like we still wouldn’t be here for the five for ten sales.”

“I wish they had Christmas scents.” Blaine half-whines, mostly just to get a rise out of Sebastian who takes the bait with little to no effort.

“Don’t even start,” He points at him, putting Toasted Campfire into the basket because he should be able to have one candle of his own. “It’s bad enough that you put the tree up before Thanksgiving.”

Blaine grins at him, turning to press himself up on his toes and kiss the corner of his boyfriend’s mouth. “I make sure to get the mistletoe too, I don’t see you complaining about that.”

Sebastian hums, brushing Blaine’s curls on his forehead and following his hairline to tuck a few behind his ear. “Come on, let’s get these home you candle hoarder.”

Blaine laughs softly and they take the basket to the counter, their hands laced loosely between them.

--

Sebastian shakes his head as he sits on the couch, watching Blaine take candles out of the bag to place on their coffee table. All fifteen candles scattered about the glass, a variety of autumn colors in dusty maroon, burnt orange and latte brown.

“You think they’ll fit on the fireplace mantel?”

“There’s fifteen of them, Blaine.”

Blaine looks up at the wall, tilting his head to gage the space available. “Like, maybe if I move the wreath so it’s not so low and the spooky garland.”

“Who even owns fifteen candles at once? Old women with cats.”

“I made that garland by hand, you know, took an old Christmas one and spray painted it black—added purple lights and tiny pumpkins,” He grins at his boyfriend but Sebastian’s statement about being an old lady is only gaining more evidence. “If I made more I could probably sell them.”

“And feed into your candle buying addiction?” Sebastian snorts, “No thanks.”

Blaine pouts, to which Sebastian leans forward and captures a warm and intimate kiss. He nuzzles his nose afterwards, cupping Blaine’s cheek and swiping his thumb along his cheekbone. He rolls his eyes before leaning back against the couch, shaking his head at the candle invasion in his living room.

“Are you gonna pick one or what?”

His boyfriend grins, standing as he selects Caramel Latte to put on the fireplace, lighting it with practiced ease. He then crosses the room and settles on the couch, leaning into Sebastian’s side. He sets his arm along Blaine’s back, moving up and down his spine before placing his hand along his shoulder blades. Blaine presses his nose and lips into his neck, breathing him in before smiling—Sebastian can tell he’s already picking up hints of the scented candle wafting around the room.

He supposes things like this make ridiculous candle shopping sprees all worth it.

[villainousshakespeare]

Happy Birthday & congrats on 200 followers! I was thinking number 1. Just. One. Bed (a favourite of mine as well) with sassy lil angel haired Magnus 😉

Thanks very much for the request! Hope you like it! (and hope smut is okay!)

First story for my 200 Followers/Birthday writing challenge! 

Bunnies in the Rain

Magnus Martinsson/Reader 

Rated M - sex, smut, kissing, romance,angst, fluff

“I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid there’s only one room available,” the overly made up-clerk simpered, batting her eyes at your colleague and completely ignoring you, even though you were the one who had asked.

“That’s fine,” you answered, voice sharper than it strictly needed to be as you stared down the pretty girl. “We don’t mind sharing.”

Ignoring both her pout and the amused smirk from your partner you could just catch out of the corner of your eye, you slapped your credit card down on the counter. Smiling sympathetically at him the girl - really, she couldn’t be much more than that - made the necessary arrangements and handed you a pair of key cards.

”Second floor, room on the right,” she smiled, still ignoring you. “Do you need help with your bags? Not that you would, you look so strong.”

”No bags,” you grumbled, snatching the cards from her hand and turning to trudge up the stairs, leaving him to thank her.

”What is your problem? You practically bit the poor girl’s head off!”

You turned as your partner shut the door to the small room behind him and glared at him.

”You look so strong!” You cooed in an exaggerated version of the clerk’s flirting. “Why don’t you come back down and hold me with your big, strong muscles! Jesus, Magnus!”

”Jealous?” He asked with a grin that made his eyes twinkle.

Sputtering your denial in what was surely a “Me thinks the lady doth protest to much” manner you glared at your partner. Really, you couldn’t even blame the girl. On any given day Magnus Martinsson was the most handsome man you had ever seen. Tonight, after spending half an hour in what could kindly be described as a torrential down poor, he was nothing short of an Adonis. The rain that had turned you into a drowned rat had plastered his normally loose fitting button down shirt to his lean torso, displaying muscles usually only hinted at. His blond curls were darkened to a burnished bronze, but lost nothing of their tousled appeal as he ran his hands through them and shook out the excess water like an overgrown golden retriever.

”I just think one should maintain their professional demeanor when on the job,” you huffed, sounding priggish and pretentious to your own ears. 

”Yes, yes. I know how much you value professionalism,” he sighed, pealing the drenched shirt off to reveal his well defined chest and sculpted abs.

Considering you spent most of your time on the job trying not to stare at him, you thought, you had to prioritize professionalism. You had been partnered with Detective Martinsson three month’s ago upon your transfer to the Ystrad police department and every moment since then had been an intense combination of agony and ecstasy. 

It was not just that Magnus was so undeniably attractive, although that certainly did not hurt. No, on top of his radiant good looks the young detective was intelligent, excellent at his job, funny, and had excellent taste when it came to picking out songs to play on the radio. Considering the amount of time you spent in the car with him, the last was no small thing. Yes, he could be rather smug, and he did at times act overly put upon, but Magnus had a heart of gold to match his curls. It was enough to make you want to throw yourself down on the bed and cry.

The bed. Oh, dear god in heaven, there was Only. One. Bed. Tamping down your panic you glanced over to where your partner sat on a chair, pulling off his damp socks and setting them out to dry on the radiator. In anyone else it would have been repulsive, but you found yourself staring at his gigantic feet, thoughts you should not be having running through your brain.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"What?" your eyes snapped into focus to see him grinning at you, half naked, from where he lounged in the chair.

"Aren't you going to take your clothes off?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" you squeaked, face heating as he stood up and crossed the room to the closet, unbuttoning his jeans as he walked.

Had you hit your head when your car had swerved off the road, you wondered. Or perhaps you had died and were now in heaven.

"Here, catch," he said, grabbing one of the robes that had been hanging on the closet door and tossing it to you while he wrapped the other around himself and then shimmied out of his jeans. "You've got to be soaked to the bone, don't you want to dry off?"

Of course. Robes. Towels. The rain. Shaking your head to clear it of the image of Magnus half dressed you turned your back to him and quickly shrugged out of your dripping top before donning the plush white bathrobe. Using the trick every female learned at a young age you slipped your bra off from underneath, and after a quick moment wiggled out of your pants as well. Even though the robe was much thicker than your clothing had been, somehow there was something so... intimate about being clad in it. All it would take was a pull of the cord and your would be all but bare, as would he. It was enough to send all of your moisture directly south.

"The girl said their was a bathroom down the hall," he told you, padding towards the door. "I'll be right back."

The bathroom. Of course. If you had been thinking you could have gone there to change. Of course then he might have thought you were self conscious about changing in the room with him, and then he might have put the pieces to the very easy puzzle together and realized why changing near him was so uncomfortable for you. That could only lead to embarrassment and heartbreak.

Taking advantage of his absence, you did your best to finger comb your hair into something resembling a human style in the wicker framed mirror. The entire room was decorated in an old cat lady style you realized. Busily flowered wallpaper, a plethora of porcelain figurines, ruffled bead spread... which of course led you back to the bed. It was only a double you realized. Not even a full queen size. Two grown people, and Magnus was  very  grown, would have to stay quite cozy to sleep in it. Of course, most couples at a country bed and breakfast would not object to that. Unfortunately for you, this was not a romantic tryst with a lover but a misadventure during a routine drive back from a  court appearance in another jurisdiction. 

"You turn," your sunny partner said, sauntering back into the room with his robe open enough that you could see the light dusting of soft hair on his chest and long legs. You could not get out of there fast enough.

When you had settled yourself down with a pep talk in the bathroom you returned to the room determined to make the best of what was sure to be a long, sleepless night.

"So," you began, going for nonchalance and failing miserably you were sure, "this is cozy."

"Could be worse," he shrugged. 

"Oh?"

"At least there was someplace within walking distance. We could have been stranded in the car."

"Just because someone doesn't know how to drive in the rain..." you teased, loving that his face went red. It was always good when you could get a reaction out of him. He was normally so self assured, you often felt like a disaster in comparison.

"I swerved to his the rabbit!" he insisted, sticking with the story he had claimed at the time. "It's not my fault the side of the road was so muddy that the tires got stuck."

"Funny," you replied airily, "I didn't see any rabbit."

"Then it's a good thing you weren't driving," he told you superiorly.

You looked at him suspiciously. The red still tinting his face lead you doubt his tail, but you were magnanimous enough to let it go. Really, it could have much worse. You were both uninjured and the car, while not going anywhere without a tow, was relatively unharmed.

"So, left or right?" he asked, looking at the bed.

"Um..."

"It's not meant to be a brain teaser," he grinned at you.

"I can just sleep in the chair," you blurted out.

"Don't be ridiculous. We are grown adults. I am sure we can manage to behave ourselves for the length of the night. If you don't have a preference though, I will take the right side by the window. I get warm when I sleep."

Acting on his last words, Magnus untied the cord around his robe and tossed it onto the chair. Fascinated, you watched the ripple of muscle beneath the skin of his back and the way his boxer briefs hugged his peachy back side as he climbed into bed. 

Of course he could be dismissive about sleeping together, you thought despairingly. He was perfect, from his mop of curls to his boat sized feet and all that lay in between. Someone that divinely created would never be tempted by you, your overactive brain screamed at you. Sighing, you pulled your robe tighter about you, flicked off the light, and shuffled over to the bed.

Magnus had not been joking about being warm you realized as you lay down. You were on positioned yourself as close to the edge as you could, yet it still felt as though there was a furnace at your back. The awareness of him, coupled with the heat he was radiating, made you shift uncomfortably.

"You are ridiculously tense," he proclaimed, after you had tossed about for a few minutes.

"Generally speaking," you agreed, hoping he wouldn't suss out the cause.

"Here, roll onto your stomach," he said, voice brooking no refusal.

With an aggravated sigh you rolled so that your face was buried in your pillow, unsure why he thought this would be any better. As you settled in to your new position, the bed shifted and suddenly a very large, very heavy body settled onto you, straddling your upper thighs.

"What are you doing?" you gasped, trying to get up.

"Hush," he commanded, pushing your shoulders back down and beginning to rub your neck. "You need to relax. You are one gigantic knot! Most likely because of the accident. And because I was the one who caused it, though for completely humanitarian reasons of course, I should help alleviate it."

A million thoughts formed and fell apart in your brain as Magnus began working the knots in your neck with his gigantic hands. He was right, you were incredibly stiff, although for reasons other than the car accident, and his hands were magic on your heated flesh. Working his way downward, he tentatively pushed the robe off of your shoulders so that he could have better access to your skin.

"Is this alright?" he asked, voice betraying a hint of uncertainty that somehow made you feel better.

"Oh yesssss," you murmured, feeling the tightness release as he continued his way down your back. "You are very good at this."

"I made some money in college working at a spa," he confessed. "But you can NEVER tell anyone else at the station that. Okay?"

"Okay," you agreed. At that moment you would have agreed to anything he asked. His hands on you lower back, just above the dimple at your hip, were quite possibly the highlight of your life to date.

"That's what I like about you," he said softly, applying pressure to particularly to a particularly tight spot. "One of the things, I should say. One of many. You tease me sometimes, I mean, we tease each other, but not in the way the others do."

"You mean not for being beautiful?" you asked, not thinking of the words that were coming out of your mouth.

"Um... well, I wouldn't have put it that way," he gave a bark of laughter. "But you hear them. Ragging on my hair, or the fact that I still have a baby face. They find out I worked as a massage therapist, I'll never hear the end of it."

"Your secret's safe with me," you assured him, "as long as you don't stop."

Magnus worked in silence for a bit, teasing the knots out of your upper body with his heavenly hands. Once or twice you had a moment of embarrassment as they brushed against the side of your breasts, or low enough to almost graze your ass, but it all felt so heavenly that you didn't really mind.

"You really think I'm beautiful?" he asked after a bit as his palm worked down your spine.

"Of course you are," you mumbled, drifting off under his ministrations. "You're the perfect man. I've known that since the day I met you."

His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed caressing your back in slow circles. A small voice in the back of your mind told you you should be alarmed, but it was too far away, and you were too comfy. In complete contentment, you felt yourself drift off to sleep.

***

As you slowly awoke to consciousness like a diver resurfacing from a deep sea excursion, you thought that you had never in your life felt so relaxed. The muscles in your body, normally so knotted and tense, were loose and heavy. Well being suffused your whole body. The warmth behind you was firm but pliant, and a light sporadic breeze was drifting over your neck. You could not remember the last time you had slept so well. 

And then it came rushing back. The drive in the storm, the mad dash through the rain when it became clear that the car would not budge, the bed and breakfast, and Magnus. Magnus massaging your back and neck in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as you lay beneath him on the small bed. Magnus, whos limbs were now a tangled mess with your own, and who's head was tucked into the crook of your neck behind you.

"Good morning," a fuzzy voice said, making you shiver as the air from his words hit the nape of your neck. 

"Um, morning," you gulped, trying to put together the end of last night. When you had begun to drift off, you had a feeling that you had said... something. Something you most defiantly should not have.

"None of that," he ordered, sounding stern.

"None of what?" you asked.

"Thinking. I worked far too hard last night getting you to relax to have you ruin it with that overactive brain of yours."

"Thank you for that," you said, swallowing.

"All my pleasure, believe me," he murmured, and you felt him smile against you.

"I doubt that," you said. "We should go see about the car."

To your great surprise, Magnus swore and hoisted himself up onto one elbow.

"Do you know," he said, voice aggrieved, "how damned frustrating you are?"

Stunned you rolled around to face him, hand clutching your robe together. His lips were pursed as he looked down at you, an exasperated expression on his face. 

"I am?" you asked, completely at sea.

"Absolutely! May ask you a question? Why do you think you were assigned to be my partner?"

"Chance?" you ventured.

"I am a senior detective. I outrank almost everyone else in the department, except Kurt and Anne-Britt. And I end up with the new girl?"

"Bad luck?" you tried again.

"It honestly never occurred to you that I requested you?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "That I went to Lisa and all but begged her to assign you to my car? To the point that she has been looking askance at me ever since?"

"You did? Why?" you were absolutely flummoxed.

"Because I liked you, you idiot!" he said, pulling at his blond ringlets. "I wanted a chance to get to know you before the other vultures swooped in. I thought if we spent enough time on stake out together, if you got to know me, that you might..."

"Might what?" you asked, properly confused.

"Might like me too," he said at last, flopping back onto the bed. "But you are the most confusing woman I have ever met! You stare at me -"

"Everyone stares at you, Magnus! You're gorgeous!" you interrupted.

"See, that's my point! You say things like that, you laugh at jokes I make that even I know aren't funny, you seem to like me..."

"I do like you!"

"But then you go all proper and by the book on me. You won't go out for a drink with me after work. You avoid me when I see you in town."

"I do not!" you insisted.

"The other night at the pub?"

"You were with that blond," you sulked.

"You did see me!" he said triumphantly. "That blond was my cousin. I was there hoping to run into you and she was my cover!"

"Seriously?" you stared at him.

"Would I make up something that humiliating?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "So when the car got stuck - and I swear, there was a rabbit - I figured it was my last shot. But I give up. I get it. You're not interested, and I can respect that... And I have just made an utter ass out of myself. I'm going to go take a cold shower. And then jump off a bridge somewhere."

You realized that you had been staring at him blankly, mouth hanging open and giving no indication of the thoughts racing through your mind.

"Magnus! Wait!" you cried suddenly, grabbing his wrist as he made to get out of bed.

He turned and looked at you, blush staining his cheeks. You swallowed and looked down, eyes going wide as you realized that his feet and hands were not the only large things on him, going by the bulge pressing for release in his briefs. You were fairly certain you made a noise that was not words in any language before dragging your eyes back up to his eyes.

"What?" he asked, voice sounding almost sullen.

"I like you too," you spoke the words quietly.

"What?" he asked again, eyes widening.

"I said I like you too," you repeated, a tentative smile tilting up the corners of your lips. "That's why I've been so by the book. If I gave myself even the smallest license around you I would never get any work done. I would just sit there and stare dreamily at you for hours. Or worse, throw myself at you and tear off your clothing."

"I wouldn't call that worse," he remarked.

"I don't go out for drinks with you because I fear letting my tongue loosen around you. I'm afraid I will tell you how you're all I can think about, and I would kill to be with you."

"You mean that?" he asked, beginning to smile in return.

"More than I've ever meant anything in my life," you told him.

"In that case," his hand moved to brush a stray hair out of your face and trace your lips with his thumb. "May I have your permission to kiss you?"

"You may have permission to do what ever you like!" you breathed, meaning it.

"Dangerous words, darling," he said in a dark voice that you felt to your toes.

Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was gentle at first, almost tentative. He nipped lightly at your lower lip and you gasped, opening enough to let his tongue slide into your mouth. After that, you were lost. At once coaxing and demanding, Magnus drew you into a kiss that set your body aflame. Your arm wrapped around his neck and you fulfilled your dream of burying your hand in his buoyant curls. His own hands were wandering over your body, teasing with the edges of the robe still encasing you.

Pulling away from your lips for a moment, Magnus lifted the cord of the robe and raised an eye at you in silent question. You smiled wantonly and nodded. With a growl, he tore open the tie and pushed the offending garment down your arms before pulling you back flush against him. The heat of his skin, all hard planes and taut muscles, seared into your bare flesh and you raked your fingers down his back. His kisses began trailing a meandering path across your jaw and down your neck, pausing to suck or nip as the went. Helpfully you tilted your head to one side to grant him better access.

"God, you have no idea how long I have wanted to do this," he groaned, rolling you onto your back and rising up to look down on you. "You are so beautiful. So smart and sexy."

"Please," you whimpered, tracing his torso with needy fingers. "Please don't stop."

"Oh, don't you worry about that!" he grinned lasciviously. "Unless you tell me to, I am all a go!"

Putting action to words, he was upon you again, taking one hardened nipple into his mouth to suck and torment with his tongue. While he distracted you thus, his hand slid down to glide over the satin of your undies. With a hitched breath you bucked up into his touch and he chuckled with sin. Deft fingers began running over your satin covered lips, teasing and pressing with great skill. When you began thrashing back and forth he gave a low purr and pulled the knickers down and off of you, tossing them to the floor.

"Perfect," he said again, eyes roaming over your body while you writhed beneath him. One long finger pressed against you, slipping within your folds and feeling how wet your were. Magnus hummed in pleasure, biting his lower lip as he slowly inserted the long, slender digit deep within you. "Oh yes, you are going to feel so good around me."

You tried to form words, but all that came out of your mouth were whimpers. With a predatory glint in his eye Magnus quickly shucked his boxers briefs and positioned himself between your thighs. Your knees came up to nestle him in closer and he rocked against you, rubbing the head of his cock through your damp folds.

"Are you ready?" he asked you, pupils blown and strain showing in his face.

You nodded twice, eyes big as they locked with his. Slowly, achingly slowly, Magnus pushed forward and slid into you. It was almost too much as he pulled back and pressed forward to work his way deep within your walls. A long, low groan escaped his lips and his head arched back as he finally bottomed out. You had never felt such stretch before and were grateful that he stilled a moment to let you adjust. When he finally began to move again within you, you discovered that he had more than just size in his favor. Magnus angled deftly to his every spot within you, while the course hairs at his base rasped against your pleasure center. Before long the room was full of the noise of sex - moans, gasps, and the slapping of skin on skin as he drove you both to the edge and over. Your name had never sounded as sweet to your ears as it did when Magnus shouted it in release.

It was some time later when you made your way, tottering a bit but supported by his strong arm around your waist, down the stairs to the counter to check out. The same young woman was working the counter (it was a family establishment) and from the sour look on her face she had heard your very vigorous activity some time before. You settled the account and, hand in hand, made your way to where a tow truck was in the process of pulling Magnus' car out of the muddy ditch on the side of the road.

"Magnus," you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

"Yes love?" he asked, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it.

"I still don't believe you saw a rabbit," you said with a smirk. "But I have never been so happy for an non-existent animal before in my life."

@yespolkadotkitty @caffiend-queen @nonsensicalobsessions @hopelessromanticspoonie

[buckysbitch107]

Birthday Baking | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It’s the first time Bucky is able to celebrate his birthday since 1944, and you really want to make his welcome back into a world of not-torture special. This results in a bit of a baking spree, but no one else is complaining.

Warnings: Swearing, Slightly Horny Bucky, Mentions of sexual activity, Nudity, Slight Panic Attack

Word Count: 2.17K

A/N: Hope you guys like this one! This will be a little bit longer than my last one, and it’s basically the same concept. Y/N is the reader, ~~~ is a time skip, blah blah blah. Hope you know the abbreviations, if not, here’s a website: https://www.wattpad.com/170188425-the-ultimate-guide-to-a-everything-fanfiction-x . Here’s the reference photo I used for the dress: https://www.jbydress.com/products/custom-made-long-sleeves-short-black-prom-dresses-short-black-long-sleeves-formal-evening-graduation-dresses?variant=14603203805226 . Hope you enjoy!

“What about that girl from counter-intelligence? What was her name? Amy? Amethyst?” Bucky speaks, opening the doors for the two of them as they return from their run around New York.

“Her name is Amanda, and she’s a lesbian.” Steve comments, punching in the access code for the elevator. Bucky shrugs as the two of them walk into the elevator, continuing their small conversation as it takes them to the main living area of the Avengers tower. The pair step out of the elevator, the strong scent of vanilla and chocolate immediately filling their noses. “What’s that smell?” Bucky listens to the banging in the kitchen and sighs.

“Oh no.”

“What?” Bucky strolls into the TV area, Steve following as the man confirms his theory. Most of the Avengers sit on the array of couches, silently munching on a plethora of sweets.

“Well if it isn’t America’s sweethearts!” Tony exclaims, standing up from his seat to walk over to Bucky. The two had previously “made up”, also known as agreeing not to kill each other. “Y’know, I have no idea what got into your girl, but she sure does know how to bake.” Bucky sighs once again and makes eye contact with Tony, a look that can only be described as ‘goddammit not again’ on his face.

“How many times has she run out of flour?” Bucky questions, honestly dreading the answer.

“Um three, why?”

“Oh dear lord.” The metal-armed man mutters, moving past Tony and Steve into the kitchen, the other supersoldier following. The two walk into the kitchen, finding every available counter space filled to the brim with either cakes, cupcakes, pies, other sweets, ingredients, or mixing bowls. And in the middle of all of it, is Y/N. Both Steve and Bucky’s focus goes to the woman standing with her back turned to them, an apron tied around her waist and her H/L pulled up into a messy bun. A timer goes off from somewhere and she rushes to turn it off, pulling what looks like a form of cheesecake out of the oven. “Doll?”

“Hmm?” Y/N hums, turning around to face the two men, a cinnamon roll sticking out of her mouth. Now facing the pair, they can see just how much baking she’s done. Her forehead is slightly sweaty, frosting all over her hands, face, and arms, more cake batter showing on her apron than cloth. Bucky walks over to her and tries to give her a hug, pouting when her semi-frosting covered hand pushes him away.

“What? I can’t get a hug from my best girl?”

“Not when you’re all hot and sweaty, and I’m covered in frosting and cake batter.” Bucky accepts defeat and strolls back over to Steve, the two watching her meticulous work for a few more moments before Bucky ushers for them to step out. They walk back into the TV area and Steve turns to his friend.

“Is she okay?” Steve asks, pointing back towards the kitchen.

“She stress bakes.” Bucky responds, his friend’s eyes widening.

“You think? There are enough sweets in that room to feed the 107th and 26th infantries combined. What could she be that stressed about?”

“I think it has something to do with my birthday.” A look of realization crosses over Steve’s face and he nods.

“You should go talk to her. Soon enough, we won’t have a place to put all of that.” Bucky nods before walking back into the kitchen, his girlfriend still in the almost exact same spot. He moves to stand next to her and she gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Hey, doll.”

“Hi.” She mutters, stirring the current batch of brownie mix with a lot of unnecessary force.

“What’s wrong, babygirl? You only bake this much when you’re stressed.” She shoots him a quick glare and he slightly backs off, knowing that messing with her would be a worse idea than pre-serum Steve trying to complete a triathlon (which he did try. once.) 

“Well, maybe it’s because I am stressed!” She exclaims, slamming her hands on the counter. Y/N looks at her boyfriend and sighs, wiping her hands on her apron before resting her head on his shoulder, taking a long and deep breath. “I just want everything to be perfect for your birthday.”

“But baby it doesn’t have to be. I’d be fine if it were just you and me.” Her head snaps up, her eyes wide in a mix of emotions.

“Nononono. It’s going to be your 100th birthday, which is big. It’s also your first birthday out of HYDRA, and I want it to be perfect! But your birthday is in two days and almost nothing is working out and I’m worried that it’s all gonna flop and-” Y/N rambles, her already wide E/C eyes growing even larger as she rambles on, her breathing becoming more and more shallow as she spirals herself into a pit of anxiety and panic. As she rambles, she pours the brownie batter into a pan and slides it in the oven.

“Hey, hey, hey. Listen to me.” Bucky pauses, using his pointer finger to lift her chin up, making sure she is making direct eye contact with him. “No matter what you plan, I’ll love it. You plan a huge birthday bash, I’ll be there with a big smile on my face. You plan a small dinner with just a few friends, it’ll be the best birthday ever. Because you’ll be there. Okay?” She nods, having calmed down from listening to her boyfriend’s words. Bucky leans forward, giving her a small kiss. “Now,” He pauses, pulling away from her, a small whine leaving her lips. “let’s get you cleaned up, your last batch of brownies shouldn’t be done for a while.” Y/N nods once again and lets Bucky lead her out of the kitchen and to the elevator. They get off and Bucky smiles at her.

“Go take a shower.” He whispers, giving her a small push towards their bathroom.

“But I want you to come with meeeeee.” She whines, a pout on her face as she makes grabby hands towards him.

“I’ll be in in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.”

~~~

“Hey Y/N!” Bucky calls, leaning his head back against the back of his seat, Y/N just barely appearing in his line of sight.

“Yes?”

“Would you be a doll and hand me another beer?” He asks, a cheeky grin on his face. She rolls her eyes before heading over to the fridge, weaving in between S.H.I.E.L.D agents and fellow Avengers to do so. Y/N grabs a beer from the top shelf before making her way back over to Bucky.

“Here you go.” She speaks, walking in front of him to hand him his drink. Bucky reaches up and grabs it before stopping his eyes trained on the tight and short black dress Y/N is wearing. The fabric hugs her body perfectly, the length and the neckline making him want to rip it off of her.

“My, my, my.” He whispers, a mischievous smirk on his face. Bucky looks up at her, Y/N noticing how the bright blue of his eyes has almost disappeared behind his pupils. “Ain’t you a dame that makes a man dizzy.” Y/N’s ears turn bright red, soon matching her face and part of her neck.

“Oh shush.” She whispers, letting out a small laugh.

“Come here babydoll.” Bucky mutters, holding out his arms as an invitation. Y/N smiles before walking over to Bucky and sitting down next to him. Her position quickly changes as Bucky pulls her onto his lap, her body situated perfectly on his thighs. His arms wrap around her waist, clasping together in front of her as he rests his head on her shoulder, occasionally kissing her neck. 

“Ew. Relationships.” Sam mumbles, making the woman across from him laugh.

“You just say ew because you don’t know what it feels like to be in one.” Bucky retorts, making Y/N laugh even harder.

“Boys, boy. Settle down. Please.” She requests, shooting a small smile at both of them. The two simply glare at each other for a couple minutes, Y/N turning her head the other way to talk to Nat. Bucky occasionally takes a sip of his beer, mainly keeping his lips on Y/N’s shoulder or neck. They stay like this for a while, Bucky striking up a conversation with Steve and Sam. Bucky’s hands slightly tighten around Y/N’s waist and he tilts his head up to whisper in her ear.

“Why don’t we head up to my room and you can give me that other present you were talking about?” He mumbles, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. Y/N rolls her eyes and shifts in his arms, turning so her upper body is facing him as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Because it’s your birthday, silly. You haven’t opened your other presents, so why should I give you a special one early? Besides, it would be a little rude to leave your friends.” She responds, giving him a quick peck on the lips before removing his hands from her waist and standing up. “Now come on,” Y/N says, holding out her hand for him to grab. “It’s time for cake.” Sam helps her round everyone up, and soon enough she’s walking out of the kitchen with a cake in her hands.

“Make way people, masterpiece coming through.” Peter announces, walking in front of her and talking about the cake in Y/N’s arms. Bucky lets out a short laugh as the cake is placed in front of him, the dessert carves almost perfectly in the shape of a dinosaur. The icing on the cake reads ‘Congrats! You’re old!’ and Steve nearly spits out his drink as he reads it.

“The shape was Peter’s idea. He helped with the words too.” Y/N laughs, most of the people around her joining in. Bucky gives her a fake glare and she takes it seriously before a smile forms on his face and he starts laughing as well. Y/N lights the candles on the cake and they all sing happy birthday, a few of them not on key. Bucky blows out the candles and a few minutes later, everyone has a plate of cake in their hands.

~~~

“Thank you for doing all of this for me, Y/N.” Bucky whispers, standing next to his girlfriend with an arm wrapped around her waist.

“Of course! It’s your birthday and I wanted to make it special!” She responds, turning around so she can wrap her arms around his neck. He places his hands on her waist and pulls her into him, giving her a hug before stepping back after seeing Steve waiting beside them.

“Happy birthday pal.” Steve says, smiling at his best friend before pulling him into a hug. Bucky hugs back and they stay there for a few minutes, Steve smiling at him once again before heading up to his room for the night. Bucky and Y/N spend the next hour cleaning, putting the rest of the cake in the fridge, and recycling the many beer bottles littering the floor.

“So now can you give me that present?” Bucky asks, placing both of his hands on her waist. She smiles and stands on her toes, leaning up so her lips can reach his ear.

“You’re gonna have to unwrap it first.” She whispers, offering him a sly grin before turning towards the elevator, her hips slightly swaying. Bucky follows her figure with his eyes, and that’s when he notices the bow connected to the zipper on the back of her dress, the bow that looks a lot like the one on her present to him from earlier. A small grin forms on his face, and he follows her, deciding he wants to unwrap his present now.

~~~

 “Happy Birthday Buck.” Y/N mumbles, nuzzling her face into Bucky’s neck, the man letting out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks, babygirl.” They lay like that for a few minutes before they hear muffled yelling and Y/N shoots up after recognizing the voice as Tony

“Oh shit. I think we left your pants in the elevator.” A loud laugh erupts from Bucky’s chest, the man only thinking of the look on Tony’s face.

“If he murdered us right now, how much would the forensics team see when they walked in?”

“For me, probably some of my boobs, my back, and part of my ass. For you, pretty much everything.” She responds, resting her head back against his shoulder.

“Y’know, we have a few more minutes before he could possibly get up here and pick the lock on the door.” Bucky suggests, already moving his hand under the covers.

“What? You want more of your present?” Y/N asks, already knowing the answer.

“I think I deserve it, since it is my birthday.”

Permanent Tags: @wintersoldierslut​ @breakmy-bedbarnes @stuckys-hot-dogs​ @andreasworlsboring101​

Just a reminder that all requests are open! I will be creating a masterlist either today or tomorrow so you guys know who I specialize in, but really I do anyone y’all request. As I’ve mentioned, nothing is too fluffy, angsty, smutty, or gorey for me. I mainly write Marvel and its characters/actors. I can also write some characters from other things, you just have to ask! Also please let me know if you want to be a part of the Permanent Tags! But please, for now,

Call me Emily

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

Hope To See You

Characters: Jensen x Reader

A/n: Thank you @our-jensen-ackles-love​ for this little bit of inspiration. I needed it. Single!Jensen (kind of set around season 4 in my mind). Warnings: Embarrassment? Cussing? Completely un-beta’d, all mistakes are mine (and I’m tired, so there’s probably some)

Who’s idea was this?

Who thought it was a good idea to move into a three-floor walk-up? On, like, the hottest day of the year? During the hottest part of the morning?

Finally, how on earth was it a smart decision to pack your “delicates” in a box instead of a trash bag like a normal human being? You know, one that could be tied and secured just in case said item happened to fall out of your grasp and down two flights of stairs? Also, who uses tape to make sure boxes don't open? The little foldy thing where you tuck the stupid flaps underneath each other is supposed to work to close the box. But no.

Because of your defective boxes—yes, it was the box’s fault—every bra and piece of lingerie you owned now littered the stairs of the new apartment building you were currently moving into after it bounced noisily down every step and spattered its contents everywhere as it vaulted off of every surface.

So here you were, rapidly attempting to gather your undergarments and praying to whomever was listening that your new neighbors wouldn’t peak out of their doors as you scattered passed.

This damn box managed to make it all the way to the bottom platform, so as you scrambled down the last flight of stairs with arms full of tit slingers and lacy nighties, the very last thing you wanted to see was perched on the bottom step staring dumbfounded at an array of women’s unmentionables.

A fucking gorgeous man with green eyes and perfectly tousled hair in a black t-shirt and jeans stood there with his mouth agape, “Uh… hi.” He uttered, an expression of what looked like a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

Blowing some of the hair that had managed to fall from your ponytail out of your face, you responded, “Hey. Hi. Hi.” Not entirely sure how many times you were supposed to say hello in a typical greeting, but whatevs.

His eyes stared into yours for a heavy moment before he spoke again, “Do you—do you need a hand?” Adonis dude asked.

“Um… I just kind of need that box right there.” You pointed toward the dilapidated piece of cardboard that was crumpled next to his feet.

As he bent down to retrieve it a fleeting image passed through your head of this guy leisurely walking towards the staircase twirling his keys when an explosion of lace and padding flew at him from all directions.

He unfolded the now flattened box and did the foldy thing “correctly” and allowed you to dump your armful of embarrassment into it. He graciously held the box while you hastily gathered the last few pieces and all too quickly tried to close the stupid defective thing. Granted, it seemed like he was attempting to fixate his eyesight anywhere but the thing in his hand, so at least he was gentlemanly.

You straightened your now sweat drenched tank top and brushed the hair from your eyes, “Thank you. Sorry about that.”

He laughed. Damn, how is a laugh that sexy?

“Its okay, really. Its just not everyday I come home to such interesting step decorations.”  

“Yeah.” You snickered, taking the box from his arms. “Interesting is definitely the word to describe this.”

“I’d offer to carry that for you, but uh…”

“No, that’s okay.” You huffed it onto your hip. “I’ve got it this time. I’m just going to keep both hands on it now.”

The two of you began trekking up the stairs side by side when he turned to you, “I’m Jensen, by the way.”

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you. What apartment are you moving into?”

“3B.”

“Oh, cool. We’ll be neighbors.”

“Really?” you said, hoping to sound cool and collected, but it came out more regretful than you’d hoped.

He—Jensen, you reminded yourself—chuckled dryly and raised an eyebrow, “Do I seem that bad already?”

“No!” you all but yelled. “No, not at all. I’m sorry, that’s not how I meant that.” Damnit. Fuck. Son of a bitch. “I, uh… I’m just a little embarrassed that I’ll have to relive this awkward moment for at least a one year lease.”

“Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about. It happens.” He tried.

“Does it, now? Do you often see women slewing their most private clothing items across a very public part of their new building?” you said with a smirk, keeping your tone as light as you could to hide the dread at the recent memory.

“Well, no… but if it helps I’ll hang my laundry outside to dry if you’d like.”

You couldn’t help the giggled that escaped your lips, “Not necessary, honest. But, if you don’t mind, lets just never mention this again, please?” you asked as you reached your door, dropping the box on the ground by your feet.

“I don't know, Y/n. I may just need some conversation starters with the neighbors.”

When you whipped your head around, he was already holding his hands up in surrender, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I won’t say anything, I swear.”

“Thanks. And thanks again for the help, Jensen—“

“Ackles.” He replied, extending a hand.

“Y/l/n.” you said, sighing a bit too deeply when his hand enveloped yours, the warmth of him seeping into your already flushed skin.

He smiled, one that made his plump lips fuse together and his dimples appear at the corners of his mouth. Of course. This is the guy that had to witness the dumpster fire that you were right now; sweating like a swamp dragon in cutoff shorts and your music festival tank top from last year and muddy chuck taylors.

When he released your sweaty palm, you opened your grey door and shoved the box of incriminating garments into your foyer, next to the plethora of other boxes you’d already brought up.

“Do you need any help bringing up your other stuff? I’m happy to help.” Jensen offered, still standing in the breezeway.

“That was actually the last box.,” you answered, shoving your hands into your pockets. “My new job hired movers for the other stuff. It got here yesterday.”

“Is that what brings you here? A new job?”

“Yeah. From the U.S. to Vancouver. Working on a show called ‘Supernatural’. I actually haven’t even seen it. My last boss recommended me for a job opening, and I guess they had a spot they desperately needed to fill, so here I am. Didn’t even have much time to research before I had to pack up and get here. I was going to binge the first season later.”

Jensen’s cheeks flushed a bit and rubbed the back of his neck shyly, “Oh, yeah. I’ve—I’ve heard of it. Let me know what you think.”

“I’ve been hearing about it since it came out a few years ago, just never got around to watching it. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

He rocked back on his heels and huffed the air from his cheeks, “Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” He began walking backwards before turning to the door directly across from yours.

“I will. Thanks, Jensen.”

“It was really nice to meet you, Y/n.” he grinned, his smile a bit too flirty to be friendly, if you were to say so yourself.

As he shut his door, you released a deep breath and let yourself into your new apartment, a bit more excited about the new chapter you were starting.

...

Later that night, after you’d mostly finished unpacking and had a very long shower, you were seated on your familiar couch with a glass of wine. Your old boss hooked you up with a copy of the first season DVDs from his own collection, so you slid it out of the small paper case and inserted the silver disc with “season 1, eps 1-5” written on it in permanent marker.

Once you pressed ‘play’, you were quickly enthralled—and heartbroken—as you saw a young father thrust a baby into another young boys arms.

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Don't look back. Now, Dean. Go!”

Then, about four minutes later, you were watching as Sam had a scuffle with an intruder in his apartment.

“Wait a minute.” You whispered into the empty of your own apartment.

“Easy there tiger.”

“Holy shit! That's—” You exclaimed.

After a few more scenes, you couldn’t stand it any longer.

You padded to the door in your fuzzy slippers and pj’s and flung it open, not entirely sure what you were planning to do.

Once it swung with force, you stepped into the breezeway to see a small basket sitting by your doormat. In it was a bottle of red wine, a map of Vancouver, a blanket, and a brand new copy of the first season of Supernatural, this time with a case showcasing the main actors on the sleeve cover. One of whom you now recognized as your neighbor.

An envelope sat atop the gift with a small piece of cardstock enclosed.

Y/n,

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I don't know if it was because I didn't want to scare you or if it was because I was hoping to get to know you before the ‘actor’ title set in. Meeting you today was probably one of the most interesting and exciting things to happen to me in a while. I didn’t know someone could look so beautiful flustered and stumbling down the stairs after runaway undergarments.

I’d love to take you out to dinner tomorrow night to tell you about the show and Vancouver—and, if you’re interested, we can get to know one another as well. If you’re available, I’ll meet you downstairs at 7:30.

I hope to see you.

-Jensen

“Son of a bitch.”

You picked up the basket, ran back inside, and immediately gathered an outfit for tomorrow night. Once it was laid out, you raced back to your couch and pressed play, a new spark igniting in your chest each time “Dean” appeared on your screen. 

[carat82]

Each year we the audience are presented with a plethora of shows that hope to secure a faithful audience in hopes of being good enough to be renewed. And each year we fall victim to at least one show that we came to love but sadly did it make the cut to come back the following season( Forever anyone? Timeless?) We are disappointed to say the least and utter a few choice words at the network that shattered our hopes of seeing our characters come back and entertain us for an hour each week.

This year however was different.

The fall of 2018 told us that an adaptation of Jane Austen’s Sanditon would premiere the following year. I was intrigued but at the time went on with my life and forgot about it. Then came the summer of 2019. An ad somewhere popped up about Sanditon. I pulled up the trailer on YouTube and right after sought out how I could stream the show ( I live in the US and really hate waiting months for shows to air here). So by the time I found it the first 3 episodes had aired. Needless to say I was hooked! Every Sunday I anxiously waited until the stream was available around 7ish and let myself escape to the world of Sanditon and all its glory. I watched by myself ( not really the hubby’s cup of tea) wishing my mom lived closer so that we could watch together. I laughed, squeeled, and cheered as the storyline lead us along Charlotte’s journey into Sanditon. At the time I did not have Twitter account but I wanted to see the reaction to the show. So I looked up the official account, waited on baited breath for the teasers that would get released thoughtout the week, and read all the comments from the fans without interacting with anyone. This made it so much more enjoyable as I could “experience” the show with others! So when our hearts were broken with Charlotte on the cliff tops in EP 8, we had each other to rant, rave, and cry to. But also hope. And belief. This was a JA story after all. And Davies had given us outstanding adaptations of not only Austen but Dickens as well( Little Dorrit I’m looking at you!). I mean this was the man that gave us Colon Firth’s Darcy... in a clinging wet shirt no less! So of course he would have to finish the story in a second season. Yes,he gambled but surely the network would NEVER not renew something created by him?! Or leave JA’s unfinished novel, oh I don’t know... UNFINISHED?! I mean that would be network suicide right?! But as time went on and there was no confirmation about a S2 we began to get worried... and then panic set in. And so I felt compelled to create a Twitter account and fight along with the Sanditon Sisterhood, as someone had named them, to convince ITV to renew another season. I have NEVER before felt this compelled to add my voice to a shows renewal. But that just speaks to the fantastic writing of this series. Through this interaction on Twitter and then the Sanditon FB fan page, I learned much more about the show-it’s writers, cast, and crew. The amount of talent that put this production together is truly remarkable! So as days turned into weeks then a month or so I had tweeted and retweeted alongside my sisterhood my thoughts, feelings, and desires to see S2 come to fruition. And then it happened. Our worst fear.

The “announcement” that ITV would not renew for a second season. So again we the audience found ourselves victims of the network and their archaic ways of measuring the success of a series-Viewing numbers on the night the episodes air. Because we the audience watch shows the same way we did 10-20 years ago right?

I clearly remember the nights Alias aired. ( 2001-2005) Mom and I would watch faithfully each week. If the phone rang it was not answered. No-I was watching my Sydney Bristow kick butt and no one was allowed to interrupt that time! And it was on a night I was always home, so no need to record and watch later. But as time went on and our lives began to change,so did how we watch TV. No longer did we need to make sure we were home to watch a show or worry if we forgot to set the timer to record our show, we could stream it later and watch the whole season at once when it was CONVIENTIENT for us! Yay!! I could make entertainment fit my schedule. I could watch when I WANTED to. However like anything that seems to good to be true -there was a catch. Those types of viewing do not count for the network airing your show. Nope. Nada.

While media and streaming platforms keep advancing, we the audience (and our favorite shows) are held to a rule that is no longer applicable. We are punished for not capitulating to a newtworks old fashioned way of measuring the popularity of a show. So YT videos promoting the series, social media interactions, and streaming have no value in the eyes of many networks.

Yet this is exactly how we experience our shows in 2019! Heck we now have the ability to interact with the shows actors and some even reply back ( Jack Fox we love you!❤️). Sadly ITV saw no relevance in this. Only immediate viewing numbers counted. Viewing numbers that were counted against a terrible release date(bank holiday in the UK so many were naturally on holiday.) and a less then stellar promotion of the series. Still many tuned in and fell in love with Sanditon. I could go on and on about the terrific acting of the cast, the original music, character development, cinematography... but that is not the purpose of this blog. It is this-

Let us as the audience tell you by more then one measurement how much we love and support a series. Stop living in the past and embrace a new way! Get in touch with your audience and quit being tone deaf. We are your customers! We are your promoters! Give us the chance to show you our love for your shows! #renewsanditon #sidlotteforever