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ballorawan740 · 3 years ago

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SCP Scenarios: SCP 1678 (Unlondon) x Reader (REQUESTED)

Source: Photo

Requested by: @lilithisfurry

Ok, so I've done it!!! 😃

Before any of you say a thing, I know that there are 2 humanoid 1678s which are 1678-A (Bobbies/Policeman) and 1678-C (Wretch) and an avian type one (1678-B)

The one I'll be using is 1678-A (Policeman) because it takes too much time to write 3 versions of this SCP (But I might consider writing the other 2, but it's highly unlikely)

First Encounter

When you first met this humanoid, you were sent into SCP 1678 for some test

The police humanoid emitted a loud whistle as the speakers screamed ‘‘Police! Halt, criminal!’’

A couple of others who were with you attempted to shoot them with their guns but were quickly shown to be resistant

Luckily for them, they managed to plant some explosives which caused damage

The other 1678-As went in and attacked them which wasn't unusual because of their hostile nature

However, for you, one of them managed to capture you and ran

For some reason, it showed some interest towards you and warded off the other SCP 1678-As off from you

They seemed to understand that you were "marked" and left you alone

That particular 1678-A managed to get you out from harm and back to your foundation

The foundation staff did wonder what had happened and you told them everything with proof since you were wearing a bodycam

They've soon noticed that this particular policeman was softer towards you as you bandaged up its broken arm

Your feelings for him

After the incident, you were sent back down into 1678 for further research and you bumped back into the sane 1678-A

You only remembered that it was him because of its gesture and its unusual markings which distinguished him from the others

Somehow, you both were able to communicate with each other

The researchers realised that they seemed to understand human speech, mainly English, however, they seemed to understand other forms of European languages as well

Moreover, this particular Bobby also understood sign language and used it to his advantage to communicate with you, displaying some fondness for you

The researchers were reluctant to let you carry on with this test as they've noticed that you've reciprocated the same gesture

Let's just say that the researchers and the other Bobbies agreed to the fact that it was strange for you and that special policeman to be dating

His Confession

Over time, as you both became closer, he worked up the courage to sign to you that he cares a lot about you

And you've found that rather cute and returned the gesture

Which then made you both a rather unique type of couple

The other 1678-As were concerned and curious about this new relationship and so was the Foundation

The researchers had decided to borrow your newfound partner and took him to his new room (No, you've basically kidnapped him)

Needless to say, the other Bobbies were somewhat furious while others were glad that he's gone since he betrayed them for not killing you

Your new partner was somewhat homesick, so you've decided to paint some victorian style art for his cell

Date

From time to time, you both were shoved back into 1678 which just so happens to be the main place for you both to date

Some of his friends were relieved to see him and some would even offer you a hug

You obviously returned the gesture for being so flattering and because your man could finally get laid (NGL yall still be touch starved to the point you'd even date strange beings and objects)

Dates with this Bobby would be rather interesting

Like, he'd hold hands, but probably wouldn't start it during the beginning of the relationship because he's just shy (Just like everybody else here)

Since his face is all bandaged up, you wouldn't really be having many kisses

But he'll make it up with hugs instead

His fellow friends would probably enjoy bothering the both of you while you're there and would pull pranks on you both

If you both were in the foundation, you'd be chilling in his cell and talking bout your experiences in life (Not like you'd have much to say, get back to studying/work)

The researchers may poke fun of you both but would generally leave you both alone

When he gets jealous

Now, depending on who he's jealous of, he would react differently

If it was another fellow 1678-A, he would be slightly hostile and assert his dominance over the others

However, if it was a member of the foundation or anyone else that's not 1678-A for that matter, he'd be even more aggressive and would probably try and kill them

Unless you manage to stop him then it's fine

This Bobby would be slightly possessive because you're the only other person who genuinely cares about him other than his 1678 friends/family

If he sees you having a friendly chat with another person/SCP, he would wrap an arm around you just so the other person knows you're taken

I think over time he learns some boundaries so even if he is aggressive, he wouldn't just automatically send the dude you're with to hell

Unless that person is a crappy person then good for them

Yandere!1678-A

This yandere right here would literally kidnap you and take you back into 1678

He'd make sure that you would never find a way back into the foundation which does concern the researchers, so they send a group of D-classes and MTFs to find you

If he was feeling nice, he would let you wander around 1678 but he would most likely be next to or near you at all times

If he was having a bad day, he would tie you up in a random building and made sure that nobody can get in or out

Would most likely be even more hostile to everybody else around you

If you haven't behaved, he'd probs use something sharp to inflict pain on you

If you managed to behave, then he loosens the ropes around your arms, legs and neck

Probs would feed you tiny doses of 1678-D but only a bit because he's aware of how that affects the bodies of ordinary humans

Their younger sister

You and the other 1678-As would literally be families at this point or friends with the ones who are lurking away from the main area of 1678

And since you were rather new, you were treated as the younger one (That's also because you're the youngest one)

Would probably protect you from everything

You would be spoilt to death and wouldn't have to hurt a fly

One of the policemen would get you a 1678-B as your personal pet

And it's rather fond of you so it basically follows you around

Would most likely intimidate your dates if you have one

Even more so if they're a human/SCP from the Foundation

If it was another member of 1678 then they're more chill

However, if you were dating 1678-C, they'd be quite reluctant for you to be in a relationship with her but would let you anyways

When their kids say their name for the first time

Would 100% be crying internally and shocked

Like, it happened out of the blue since you both were just relaxing

Word would spread across the whole of 1678 because of this

And not because you both were a unique pairing in the first place

1678-A would try to teach your child some sign language in contrast to you who would teach them to communicate verbally

Most likely try and teach the kid to defend themselves and probably attack others

But you wouldn't let him because they were too young (Just like you lot!!! Shouldn't y'all be studying in primary or high/secondary schools?)

The other 1678s would literally yeet their way to meet the kid just so they can teach your child to say more words

And to swear of course

When his S/O is angry

Oh dear

If the foundation doesn't know any better, they'd just assume that all the Bobbies were the aggressive ones

And oh boy were they wrong

You were the one who needs a chill pill

Basically, some guy tried to hit on you and wouldn't stop

So you just casually gave him a taste in his own medicine

Which were a punch in the face and a kick in the nuts (Kids, don't do this to a guy unless he really deserves it)

He somehow got back up and carried on harassing you

Your man was just strolling around the park until he saw the commotion

He had to literally hold you back and made the guy run for his life

Which was a shocker since it's usually the other way around

And of course, everybody inside 1678 heard about the news and cheered on for you while others just ran since they didn't wanna have the first-hand experience with your anger issue

When someone tries to steal you away

Oh this man right here would gather all his police friends as well as the birds to hunt down whoever stole you away

He would be furious to the core and rightfully so

The foundation was informed of this and they didn't blame this SCP

And that's because the person who stole you was from the Chaos Insurgency

Both GOIs hated each other's guts so the foundation just kinda let 1678-A hunt down the guy

And he did along with the MTFs

But was met with you standing over the guy's dead body

Then everybody realised that your man taught you how to protect yourself

And you did it so perfectly that even 1678 was intimidated af

Nobody wanted to mess with you and your partner was relieved that he taught you self defence

When his pregnant!S/O gets hurt by accident

This particular 1678-A that just so happens to be your partner, is rather shy and introverted

Nad although he does his 'job' well, he would rather just stay away from any contact

Until he met you and you became pregnant

This 1678-A would be slightly more protective but would let you have some space

And because of this, you managed to give yourself a papercut

Which was met with a furious policeman

But was cooled down when you explained your injury to him

He was giving you a huge lecture about your safety and how not to get hurt because you're carrying his baby

Wouldn't leave you alone ever again

Even if that means he would have to sit by the corner at all times

Would send his mates to come over to check on you if he wasn't there

Meeting a dragon hybrid child fem!reader

Definitely would be curious about you since they mostly interact with Foundation staffs

Probably would try to attack you but instead got burnt

1678-A would definitely notice your strange appearance and that you cry lava

Would feel bad so he'd try and comfort you

This then leads to you both being rather attached to each other

This particular 1678-A would have to bribe the others to keep you

The foundation realising this would happen

Probably would let you stay there for research purposes

They would most likely help level up your telekineses

Treats you like their own child and would be extremely protective

Most likely would have a heart attack every time you show kindness towards foundation members instead of attacking them

Every time you're in danger, the ones attacking you would soon realise that they've screwed up

Because the SCPs can hear you cry which would summon a whole bunch of them

When he accidentally kills you

He was basically chilling with you until some MTF members arrived to take some samples for testing

They were attacked by the other 1678-As and retaliated

This chill guy would lead you to safety before attacking the remaining MTFs

You realising what has happened decided to try and help out

You noticed that one of the MTF members were about to shoot your guy and managed to throw the gun out of his hand

1678-A notices and tries to attack the member but instead killed you

The remaining MTF members flee as he mourns your death

He would be even more vengeful and aggressive to the foundation members

Which does scare off the other Bobbies

Stayed in one of the abandoned houses to cry alone

Yandere!1678 - A x Evil!Reader

I'd say aside from his yandere self and the fact that he's only more aggressive to everyone else aside from you and giving you some scars, he's pretty dense and thicc in the brain

Probably wouldn't notice that you were working on them for a project in the GOC

You were able to get away with a lot of things because of your small stature and innocent appearance

Definitely managed to fool this yandere!1678-A because of your appearance

You could be just as vicious when you want to be

Yandere!1678-A soon realises that you were just using him for some experiment and were angered to the point of no return

Would most likely try and hunt you down

But since you've already got enough information about this SCP, you were able to devise a plan to leave

Manages to catch up to you but you were fortunate enough to know enough self-defence tactics to ward him off

You never came back to him and he was depressed for all of eternity

Trying McDonald's Sprite

You were requested to bring some ordinary food to 1678 as a test

And you've decided that you wanted to bring some Sprite with some Apple pie, mozzarella dippers and pancakes (They're my soul food from Mackies ok? Don't judge)

When you arrived in 1678, that one particular policeman who is attached to you for some odd reason was curious about the food

Of course, he would need to take off the bandage on his head to taste the food but not before some bribery from you

He reminisced about the food since he loved eating them before he turned into 1678-A

Sprite, however, was slightly different

He never tried them and was surprised with how good they tasted

Most likely would ask you to get more for him though

Foundation staff would be rather conflicted but allowed you to reward him with Sprite and some food

Only whenever he behaved well though

When his kid swears at him

You should've seen the look on his face (oh the irony)

You both taught your kid verbal and non-verbal communications with some common sentences people would say

But never have either of you taught your kid how to swear

Kinda just happened and 1678-A was about to go into cardiac arrest (Pun intended)

Would hunt down whoever taught them that depending on the severity

Like if the kid was using a ton of swearing in a sentence and was directing it to either of you, 1678-A would kill the guy

You were more of a chill type of parent

But would recommend the kid to stop swearing sine it's rude

Most likely wound ground the kind for a week tbh

When the reader scares him (Child!Reader)

Well, let's just say you managed to make the policeman play hide and seek with you

And you were the one hiding since you secretly knew that you were a professional at it

So you made 1678-A to find you

And although he's pretty good at catching his victims, he couldn't find you (Cuz y'all be so short)

Like he was literally in front of you and he still couldn't see you and you even giggled

So you've decided to jump on him

And oh boy was he about to scream out for help

But luckily he didn't cuz the others would whoop yo ass

Probably wouldn't give you a lecture but would need a while for his precious heart to not go yeetus the fetus

He would probably yeet you though tbf

When the reader pole dances/aerial silk dance

1678-A probably would have some ideas on what pole dancing is

Maybe not as much with the term aerial silk dancing but would soon understand when he sees you dancing

Probably thinks that you're trying to fondue with him if you're pole dancing

Definitely would be in awe when he sees you dance with the aerial silks

Would have a difficult time mimicking you if he ever wants you to teach him

Has definitely fallen 1000 times while pole dancing and broke his arms while dancing 10 ft off the ground

If the others inside 1678 see you dancing, he'd be in a blushing mess, especially if you were dancing to certain kinds of songs

Would most likely tell you to dance for him privately so there's no peeking

Having a Pregnant!S/O

Would most definitely be on the guard more since you're carrying his child

1678-A would most likely follow you around like a well trained and clingy German Shepard

You'd most likely have to tell him to tone it down because you're pregnant, not some delicate flower

Would most likely do whatever you tell him to do, even if it means hurting himself as long as you're safe and sound

Definitely would make sure that another 1678 would be around you at all times when he's away from you

1678-A would occasionally rub your stomach and sing victorian era songs

Sometimes he would bring you some of your favourite foods

When you try to commit suicide

When he hears the news he was devastated

He literally ran 69 miles just to see you

Would give you a big boi lecture about doing that

Nearly had his heart jump out of his body

Would constantly follow you everywhere after this

He's basically your bodyguard at this point

Would bandage up your wounds

Makes sure that you're fed well and all and would give you random gifts out of the blue

Would most likely ask the other Bobbies to care for you if he's not there and would even give you 1678-B

Asks the Wretches to keep a lookout to make sure nobody hurts you

Having a hopelessly romantic/easily flustered GN!Reader

This particular Bobby would most likely be just as easily flustered and hopelessly romantic as you

I'd imagine him trying to make the first move and you both being in a blushing mess

You both would exchange little gifts every now and again

Everyone else just teases and ships you both

You both loving each other unconditionally and constantly worrying about each other when you're both away from each other

This Bobby would definitely protect you from the MTFs and/or D-classes from attacking you

You would make a deal with the foundation to keep your guy safe and sound

The foundation witnessing how lovey-dovey you both are and just dies of cringe and sweetness overload (but not as sweet as out 999)

#scp #scp scenarios #scp x reader #scp headcanons #scp x reader headcanons #scp x reader scenarios #scp 1678 #scp 1678 headcanon #scp 1678 scenarios #scp 1678 x reader #scp 1678 x reader scenarios #scp 1678 x reader headcanon

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aslitheryprinx · 3 years ago

Note

Fake Fic Titles:

You Look So Different When You're Sleeping

Under The Moonlight

Please Don't Leave Me

There's A Monster in the Sky, in the Wood, in the Fields

These prompts are all so good!! Again, I kind of wrote a LOT for this lol. I hope you enjoy!

CW: some fear and panic, sacrifice.

Nothing too dark this time.

You look so different when you're sleeping

A borrower is rarely active during the day. It is much safer to borrow when the humans are asleep, less likely to see you. Ranboo has no desire to borrow during the day. The very few times he's been awake while the humans were have been terrifying. He's never even had a close call; there's just something frightening about watching humans move and interact with the world, even from a hidden position. They're too fast for something so large; too attentive, too intelligent. They are loud and smart and utterly petrifying, and Ranboo will stick to borrowing at night, thank you very much.

But... In the darkness, in the peace and quiet of the night, the humans aren't quite as frightening. They're still and calm while they sleep, expressions lax and breathing deep and slow. It's almost... Peaceful seeing the giant beings so still and gentle.

He probably shouldn't be here, shouldn't be watching the human sleep with such fascination. But he's done everything thing he needs to do... And everything he doesn't need to do. He has no chores to keep him occupied, has enough food stored to last for weeks if it keeps that long. He has nothing to do, and finds himself drifting to the human's room. He climbs the nightstand, only a little nervous at how close he is to the dangerous being, and watches.

It's relaxing somehow, and the human looks much less like a dangerous threat like this. He looks more like a person. Which he is, humans are people, but it's hard to remember that when they walk past and all he can think of is how easily a single step could crush him.

He feels calmer than he has in a while, and watching someone sleep makes him sleepy. He's tempted to blink his eyes shut, but he can't while still in a dangerous place. But he's tired enough he should probably head home.

Ranboo stands up, and is about to start the climb back down the nightstand when the human shifts.

Instantly he's alert, adrenalin flooding his body. He doesn't know whether to run, try to make it to the floor before the human wakes up or to hide on the nightstand and pray he isn't seen.

He's too slow to decide, to frozen with indecision, and the humans eyes snap open. A second later, an eye half his size filled with a terrifying amount of intelligence rests on him.

There's a blink as the human registers his presence, then the human is sitting up, laser focused on him.

Ranboo trembled under the gaze, wishing he could just teleport away to safety. The human had looked much less terrifying when he was sleeping.

Under the Moonlight

Please don't leave me

Ok I'm just gonna bullet point this one lol.

Phil is an immortal with a strange curse

When he's beneath the moonlight, he can move. But when he's no longer touched by the light from the moon, he freezes into a solid statue.

This causes a lot of problems, and he's found out the hard way that's he can't die. If he's smashed to pieces, he'll just wake up beneath the next moon, completely fine.

One night when the moon is not out, a strange man finds him and takes him home.

The man, Technoblade, restores damaged statues, sculpture, and similar art in his free time, and Phil is apparently damaged enough to need restoration.

Eventually Phil is placed by a window. The problem is, the moon only shines through for less than an hour each night.

Phil needs to figure out how to escape outside in that short time frame... Without alerting the human, who seems far too perceptive.

Wilbur should've known better. Really, falling asleep while outside of the fae realm? That was just asking for trouble. Any human, or just a wild animal for that matter could stumble across him and that would be that.

At least he'd had the sense to stay in his insect form. To any passing humans, he just looked like a butterfly. Perhaps his brilliant blue wings were a little unusual, but not enough to draw suspicion.

Unfortunately, his butterfly appearance did not seem to help him any this time. Because when Wilbur woke up, he was in a jar.

He'd been caught, by a human child no less. And according to the natural laws of the world, his magic wouldn't work once he'd been trapped, not until his captor decided to release him.

Wilbur was in quite the conundrum. There was no way the kid was going to release a cool butterfly he caught. But if Wilbur revealed himself, there was no guarantee he'd want to release the even cooler fairy. Still, being in his normal form would at least give him a chance of talking his way out, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his life in a jar.

With a sigh, he shed his insect disguise. As expected the kid gasped, and gazed down at him with wide eyes.

"Woah!!!" the young human gasped, raising the jar higher and staring at Wilbur. He couldn't lie, having someone so much larger than him looking so closely at him was a little unnerving. But Wilbur put on a charming smile to talk to them.

"Hello!" He said, and the human kid grinned.

"Hi!" He replied excitedly. "You're a fairy? I've never met a fairy before! What's your name?"

Did... Did the child not know anything about fairies? Did he not know the power names held? Well if not, Wilbur certainly wasn't going to tell him. He also wasn't going to give him his full name, whether or not the kid could use it or not.

"You can call me Wilby," he said, unable to tell a complete lie. It was a little bit embarrassing to give the kid his childhood nickname, but it would do.

"Wilby," the kid repeated and despite his awkward situation, Wilbur had to fight the urge to coo. The kid didn't say his own name, however, so he decided to push slightly.

"What's yours?" He asked, not an ounce of deception in his voice.

"I'm T- uhhh I mean I can't tell you. The adults say we can't give our names to strangers."

Damn. At least he didn't know why, which meant Wilbur still might be able to get out of this.

"That's ok," he says, showing none of his disappointment. "We'll just have to become friends first."

He's a little startled when tears spring up in the kid's eyes and he sniffles. Oh dear.

"Really?" The kid asks. "You'll really be my friend, Wilby?"

That should have no right to make his heart melt. He was trapped in a jar for fuck sake! He needed the kid to free him, not make him feel soft.

"Of course," Wilbur said. "Could you let me out of the jar first?"

The kid hesitates and he fights the urge to curse. It's worth a try, but he gets the feeling it won't be that easy.

"But... if I let you out, you'll go away," the human says sadly. It's true, but Wilbur refuses to feel guilty for that fact. "And then I won't have any friends at all."

"I can't be your friend if I'm in a jar," Wilbur tries. "Then I'm just a prisoner." The kid hesitates even more.

"How about this," Wilbur hedges. If you promise to let me out, I'll be your friend."

The human lights up.

"You promise?" He asks. Wilbur words his promise very carefully, knowing he'll be held to it by his own nature.

"I promise that if you let me out, I'll be your friend," he says, and the human cheers.

"Now we're friends forever!" He says excitedly. "And I'll let you out when we get home and you can live with me and, and-"

Wilbur tunes him out. He can feel the promise taking hold, which means the kid really does intend on letting him out. Luckily being friends with someone doesn't influence his mind, but he's still in the jar.

"Hey, do you want to play a game?" He asks. The kid brightens.

"Yes! What game?" He nearly shouts.

"We'll play Simon Says," Wilbur says with a grin. The name had become commonplace, but few humans knew the origin of the game.

"Can I go first?" The kid asked. If Wilbur interpreted the question as the kid playing first rather than giving the commands then...

"Yes," he said truthfully, as all fairies must. "But we're going to play a more fun version. You use your own name instead."

"Oh," The human said, disappointed. "But I'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers."

Wilbur feels victory, tantalizingly close.

"Well we aren't strangers anymore, are we?" He asks reasonably. The child's face brightens, and he gasps in delight.

"You're right," he says. "we're friends now! My name is Tommy!"

And just like that, Wilbur has his ticket to freedom.

"Tommy," he croons, testing the power behind the name. Tommy instantly sways in place, eyes glazing over.

"Saemonsae, Tommy," Wilbur says, speaking the true name of the spell that gives him power over anyone who gives up their name. It's the easiest spell to perform; he never met another fairy who couldn't use this spell. Even while trapped, the spell was child's play.

"Open the jar, Tommy," he commands sweetly. Instantly, the child is moving, unscrewing the lid. Wilbur flutters free, heart soaring. He circles the dazed human's head a few times before landing on the lid of the jar.

If he were a crueler being, he could pay back the imprisonment a hundredfold. If he wished, he could make Tommy do anything he wanted. A dark part of him, the part that was the most instinctual part of being a fairy, wanted to. It wanted to trap the silly boy and show him that fairies weren't toys, weren't creatures to be trifled with.

The rest of him knew that Tommy was just a kid. He would make Tommy take back the deal, the one that still bound him to be the child's friend.

But... Tommy was crying. He froze, watching the kid, still under his power sniffle. Maybe he was scared? It was very likely. He didn't have control of himself anymore, and that would scare most adults.

"Wilby," Tommy sniffled. Wilbur was morbidly curious. What would the child say while scared? Would he ask to be spared? To be freed? Wilbur wouldn't hurt him regardless, but he wanted to know. He let Tommy keep talking.

"Wilby, are you leaving?" He asked, and suddenly another part of Wilbur rose up at the desperation in the child's voice. He felt his face soften, and then Tommy spoke the final words that pierced Wilbur's heart.

"Please don't leave me alone," the little human child begged. Not worried at all about Wilbur abusing the power he had and hurting him; just wanting Wilbur to stay. How lonely was this young human, that he became so attached to the first friendly person he met? (And how soft was Wilbur, that he was already attached as well?)

"I won't leave you," Wilbur decided on a whim.

Fairies could be many things. Cruel and kind, gentle and vicious, completely truthful while being manipulative. They were also be selfish.

Wilbur liked Tommy. He was his friend because of the promise he'd made, the one that he could make the child release at any moment. But the human was also lonely and sad, and the fairy decided he was Wilbur's.

"Saemonsae, Tommy," he repeated, and the human would do as he asked. "You're going to live with me."

There's a Monster in the Sky, in the Woods, in the Fields.

It has been centuries since humanity was safe on the surface. When the Endless War of the the gods broke out, at the end of it all, the earth went to the victors. It was only by the grace and mercy of the dual gods of the Underground and Wealth that humanity was not subjugated by the powerful gods above.

The cave Tommy's village lives in is close; far too close to the territories of several very powerful gods. Their village gives sacrifices every year; the best cow in the village, the most bountiful portion of their crops. Yet still, the gods seek unsatisfied. Each year the twisting trees from the woods grow closer, and the wild crops from the field creep towards the entrance of their cave, and the sky peeks more and more through the slowly crumbling ceiling of the cave.

For centuries, the village has increased their sacrifices, giving all they can without starving their own people. Each household gives until it hurts, leaving behind everything they can spare, sometimes parting with sentimental items. It's never enough. Finally, there is only one more way to escalate the sacrifices.

They must give the gods a life to be free.

With great reluctance, the elders choose a child to be sent out. He is innocent, and he is alone. His sacrifice will be tragic, but better a poor waif with no family to miss him then one of the children of the families around. It must be a child; innocence is essential to a good sacrifice and they cannot afford to slight the gods.

The boy's name is Tommy, and he's terrified as he's tied up and dragged go the entrance of the cave. The priests are covered head to toe, so they tread as little on sacred ground as possible. Tommy is barefoot, dressed only in loose robes that fall past his knees.

He shakes as he's placed perfectly between the wild fields and dark woods, open and seen by the sky above.

The priests tie the ropes to the ground and return to the village, muttering prayers as they go. No matter how he tries, Tommy cannot free himself from the bindings. He struggles until he hears a snap of a foot on a branch.

From the woods, he comes. He is the first to arrive, and the sight of him makes Tommy's heart tremble in his chest from the sheer terror.

He is a giant, as the gods tend to be. Towering easily above the trees of his domain, and looking down at where Tommy lays bound with a curious gleam in his eyes. His eyes are a warm brown like sunwarmed soil. Brown eyes should not be able to glow, but rules don't apply to gods. His curling brown hair looks a bit like branches, and he has a crown of leaves braided around his head like a circlet. It distracts him for a moment from the pointed ears that could never be mistaken as human and the razor sharp fangs from a mouth big enough Tommy felt faint with fear.

"What have we here?" The god asks, voice melodic and resonating through Tommy's entire being. There's something almost sad in his voice, and Tommy feels the emotion despite his fear. "A little gift from the humans, I suppose."

"Are you sure this gift is for you?" a deep voice calls from behind Tommy. He freezes, a fresh wave of terror washing over him. He turns to find a second god, standing tall and proud in the fields.

He is meant to be a god of harvest, but the scent of blood fills Tommy's nose. The god looks far more like a king than a farmer, with an intricate crown of gold resting on his head. His hair is a vibrant pink, and Tommy had never found the color so intimidating as when this powerful looking god wore it. His ears and mouth were the same as the other gods, but his eyes were a terrible red, looking like blood might spill from them at any moment.

"After all," he continued, and the powerful sound made Tommy feel like his bones were vibrating in his body, "he seems to be in my field."

"Perhaps," the god of the forest says, and although there is no anger in his voice, Tommy tenses at what must be a growing argument between gods.

"You cannot deny," the Woods continues, "That he is also in my forest. He is partially bound to the roots of a tree."

"And partially bound to the soil of my fields," the harvest god finishes.

Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, breathing shakily. It is said gods rarely share. Especially when it comes to matters of power, such as sacrifices, they will not accept others taking what is theirs. Will they fight to have all of him? Or will they tear him perfectly in half, split him and call it even? No matter the outcome, Tommy doesn't see himself surviving, and he whimpers quietly.

The sound of wings fluttering startles him, and he opens his eyes. The two gods must have heard it as well, because they fall silent.

Tommy's eyes catch a single feather, floating down from the sky. Despite the third shadow that is now falling over him, all he can do is watch the falling feather as is slowly drifts down, landing right next to him. It is as black as the night, looks soft as silk... And is twice as long as he is tall. He shudders uncontrollably, finally gazing up at the third god; the god of the sky.

He catches sight of him and his breath catches in his throat. That is not a mere god of the sky.

Wings as dark as death stretch behind him. He is cloaked in dark green robes that cover his hands. Soft blonde hair falls around his face, and an unmistakeable hat covers his eyes and his pointed ears. Tommy has seen his likeness carved into countless statues, painted onto the walls of the cavern, etched into books.

This was one of the Two; this was the Angel of Death, the god over all endings.

"Don't tell me you have a claim on him as well," the forest god says lightly, and Tommy shudders at the idea. The Angel of Death laughs.

"He's been placed equally between Woods, Fields and Sky; I believe we are meant to share him."

The gaze of three gods, one of them one of the two most powerful beings in the universe fall on him, and Tommy's terror becomes too much to handle. His vision goes dark, and he knows no more.

#mcyt g/t #g/t #giant/tiny #dsmp g/t #prinx fake title game #aslitheryanswers #tiny!ranboo #tiny!tommy

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drops-of-moonlights · 4 years ago

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Un nuevo poder surge de mí (Vive en mí, Butterflix) Un halo de luz libera mi espíritu (Whoa-o-a-oh, Whoa-o-a-oh!) Todo se eleva de la tierra al cielo (Y soy yo, Butterflix) Alas brillantes, ya puedo volar Butterflix!

“hey drops quick question what the fuck”, you’re saying outloud right now as you see this. “I thought you replaced Butterflix with Silvestrix???” Yeah, I did. But I’m an indecisive bitchass motherfucker, so here you get Butterflix all the same.

I’ve basically returned S7 to its 2-transformations system, with Silvestrix being the second one (but they stick with it once they get it ala Sirenix), with the same earning but now the Winx having their outfits themed after their Magic Animals because in hindsight it makes no sense that everyone else has a form related to what they specialized in or what they befriended but the Winx just end up with shit that matches their powers, so yeah, their looks will change.

BUT! This doesn’t mean Butterflix is now another Harmonix, no - it’s more akin to an alternate Enchantix. Butterflix is the transformation of nature, and by nature I do not mean Flora’s bullshit yes I’m still salty at her canon title this should not surprise you, I mean ACTUAL nature - vegetation, animals, water, air, fungi, all that stuff. Think of it like an ecology-focused Enchantix. Butterflix is obtained via a signifcant act that proves your dedication to defend or attack in the name of the enviroment, but that doesn’t also fall into the obtainment methods of other forms - it’s essentially the miscellaneous higher form. The Winx get it the same way as in canon - defeating the construct Brafilius made. Now onto the design notes!:

BEHOLD BLOOM’S BLUE RIGHTS HAVE BEEN RETURNED TO HER PERSON! Blue was the one color in her AU palette I haven’t had the chance to use yet, so I really wanted to use it here, and this snowballed into everyone but Aisha (who has already used all her colors as the main at least once) using the colors they haven’t had as the main one yet. So Stella gets pink and purple, Flora gets orange, Musa gets yellow, Tecna gets blue, and Roxy gets red.

The outfits themselves are based off the concept of clothes that are easy to dance in, a sort of alteration to canon!Butterflix’s ballet aesthetic. So everyone gets flats, skirts or shorts, minimal flowy decor, and hair at least partially tied up.

As a final note, their butterfly bodices are actually based off their canon wings - Bloom’s, Aisha’s and Flora’s are based off their Butterflix wings, while Musa’s, Stella’s and Tecna’s are based off their Enchantix wings. Roxy’s is a more oblong version of her Charmilivix wings. Their actual wings in the transformation are also essentially a more detailed, slightly altered version of their AU!Charmix wings

Because Butterflix is a more generalized nature form, Roxy doesn’t get the eye aura she would have gotten otherwise - she’ll get that with Silvestrix.

Also to finish, tbh the real reason I brought Butterflix back is because I wanted to show how you CAN make butterfly dresses look cool and still make them distinct from person to person AND BECAUSE TECNA DESERVED TO HAVE THAT TUTU REMOVED. LOOK AT HER WITH SHORTS THE WAY GOD INTENDED.

#Drops's Art #Winx Club #Winx Redux AU #Butterflix

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gallickingun · 5 years ago

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could i request 48 with bakugo? i really love how you write him and i love your writing in general 🥰

a/n: you are so kind, thank you so much! my heart is in a fluffy place today so here is some sweet stuff!! well, it ends sweet. beginning is angsty :)

DID I HEAR SOMEBODY SAY BOXER!BAKUGOU????

Prompt #48: I called you at 2am because I need you.

“Fuck,” Bakugou brushes the heels of his hands over his eyes, one completely swollen shut and the other weeping uncontrollably. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone, bloody fingertips smearing over his screen. Another string of expletives tumble from his lips before he can find your name in his contacts.

He can’t help but note the time on his phone - 2:37 am.

“Please pick up,” Bakugou swallows the growing lump in his throat, “C’mon, pl-oh, hey.”

Your voice rings out on the other end of the receiver, gravelly from sleep but he can’t even notice because he’s just so thankful that you’re awake now.

His voice cracks when he speaks next, “C-Can you...shit, can you come pick me up?”

You rattle something off, not even asking where he’s at because you already know. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to pry his backside up off the concrete after a particularly difficult match. But, he has always had his main rule - no hospitals.

He hears the telltale beep of your side of the line cutting out and the nerves roll off of his shoulders in waves. He sinks further down the sidewalk, the brick scraping his already raw skin, but his adrenaline is pumping too hot for him to feel much of it.

When you arrive, less than a half hour later, he’s snoring against the wall of the alleyway, a garbage bin not too far away. You shake your head and step forward, smacking him on the back of the head to wake him up, “Alright, sunshine, time to go. Can you walk?”

“Oi, for Christ’s sake,” Bakugou rubs at the tender skin at the back of his head, “I could have a head injury, you bitch!”

You point your finger in his face, the tip of your nail grazing his bloody nose, “Call me a bitch one more time, Katsuki, and I will leave your ass in the street. They can pick you up tomorrow with the rest of the trash.”

Bakugou wants to snarl, wants to snap and bite at your finger, smarting off to you with some retort, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, shrinking back so you’ll leave him alone. He’s not in the mood to argue, not now. He’s already lost one fight tonight, and he doesn’t really feel like losing another.

Besides, the last argument the two of you had didn’t exactly go his way.

You help him up, lacing his arm over the length of your shoulders. He’s sticky with blood, but still warm to the touch. You help him hobble into your SUV, opening the trunk for him to climb in. You’ve lined the back with a sheet and plastic tablecloth so your car won’t be obscenely dirty after this, and your meticulousness makes him chuckle.

“Feel like a dog,” he mutters, dragging his legs up into the vehicle.

You toss his bag in next, grazing his bruised thigh as it skids to the other side of the trunk. Bakugou’s eyes go wide and he digs his hands into the sheet underneath him instead of mouthing off like he wants to. The last thing he needs is you tossing him out of the back of your car at high speed.

“You are a dog,” you answer.

The next thing he knows, you’re slamming the trunk and making your way to the driver’s seat. Something in him wants to speak, wants to say thank you or how have you been? However, when you turn up the music and the familiar piercing sound of hard rock hits his eardrums, he knows better than to say anything. Instead, Bakugou leans his head back against your window and dozes in and out of sleep.

He’s shaken awake by the slamming of your door, the soles of your boots stomping against the concrete of your garage. The trunk door opens and he squints his eyes against the bright LED light attached to the ceiling. He swallows, snatching his bag as he swings his legs over the bumper. It hurts, and his face must show it because you step closer.

He waves you away, insistent on dragging his own ass inside. You take a stride backward and watch as he struggles to stand upright. His knees give out and a string of curse words part his lips but before he can crumble to the ground, you’re underneath him, catching his body in your arms. You lift him up as much as you can, thankful he’s shed the flashy costume in favor of a signature black tank top and cargo pants. It’s much lighter and not nearly as bulky.

The two of you hobble over the threshold and towards the bathroom. It takes a few minutes because he’s slow and heavy in your hands, but eventually you make it.

“Get in the tub,” you instruct, turning on the water. You disappear into the hallway to grab a few towels and the first aid supplies, which gives him enough time to try and slip out of his tank.

When you return, he’s got his elbows stuck in his shirt, unable to yank it over the top of his head. You sigh, “You’re hopeless, you idiot.”

You snag his shirt and tug it over his head, having to extend your arms all the way given his height. Bakugou hisses as the tank sticks to a particular wound, the crusted blood on his shirt the only thing keeping it plugged. You ball up the fabric at the hem and give it a final tug, tossing it in the sink once it’s peeled from his body.

“God, what kind of guy did you fight?” You examine the cut which is now seeping blood, crimson dripping down the contours of his obliques. Bakugou peers down at you, a grimace ever present on his face, “Fuckin’ crazy ass. Fingernails were knives, super strength and shit.”

You shake your head and huff out a laugh, “Do you need help?”

The word ‘yes’ never leaves his mouth, but the wounded look in his eyes tells you all that you need to know. You unbutton his pants and drag the cargos slowly down his legs, careful not to reopen any major wounds. You do notice a few scrapes and gashes on his thighs and calves, making you wince at the sight. He steps out of the pants, the sensation of the cool tile welcome against his hot feet.

You’ll never get over the way his sweat smells - or rather, doesn’t smell. The scent radiating off of him reminds you of a campfire, of a summer evening spent in front of a set of flames, making s’mores and laughing with friends. His quirk seems to have nothing but upsides - not only is he both offensively and defensively a force of nature, but it also gives him a sweet aroma that deters the stench of salty sweat in favor of sugary nitroglycerin.

Bakugou kicks off his underwear, facing away from you, and you’re able to drink in his full form - he’s been taller than six foot since the last you could remember and it would seem he’s filled out even more in the past couple of months than when you last saw him. Even when he’s bruised and battered, he’s still beautiful, that much you know.

As he winces and his eyes close, you take the time to look over his shattered body. He’s got blooming purple and blue bruises all over his torso, little red cuts to offset the color range. Even still, the solid way he’s build, muscle and sinew wrapped around dense bones, makes your heart turn in your chest.

Bakugou breaks you from your trance as he steps into the bathtub, wincing and gasping as the water hits his open wounds. He sinks down to his neck in the bath water, the bubbles doing just enough to hide him from you.

“Damn,” he rolls his shoulders, swallowing the lump caught in his throat. He rolls his neck and his jugular pulses obviously, jaw muscles tensing under the pressure of his teeth as they grind together.

You drag the damp rag over the cut on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way his face screws up in pain. You sigh, “I think you’re gonna need stitches. Are you sure you don’t wan-”

“No hospitals,” he shakes his head, “you know what would happen.”

A growl rolls around in your throat but you swallow it, instead focusing on cleaning his wounds. Your cheeks heat from the closeness of his naked body, even though he’s submerged in bathwater and injured from head to toe. Bakugou has always been able to get you heated, no matter the situation.

“You can get your legs,” you tell him, wiping at his face with a new rag, staining the grey fabric red. Tears settle in the bottom of your eyelids, threatening to spill over the more you think about the situation he’s in. Despite the fact that he’s there completely out of his own volition, it still makes your heart wrench seeing him broken down like this.

The water is tinged a reddish brown when you’re done and he unplugs the bathtub. You hand him the towel before you get an eyeful of him, walking to stand in the doorway while he dries off.

“I set you some clothes on the back of the toilet,” you choke out the words, tilting your head to look up at the ceiling. He’s chuckling but it’s cut off by a grimace, “Still haven’t burned these yet?”

You kick your foot against the carpet in the hall, “Katsuki, just because you pissed me off doesn’t mean I’m not still your best friend.”

The words hurt as you say them, but you have to spit them out so they don’t die in your stomach. Being labeled as something so platonic has haunted you for decades now, ever since those playground days spent with the blonde, trying to pick up his mess and put back together those he’d hurt.

Bakugou makes the toilet seat shudder when he collapses on top of it, body hunched over from effort. He sighs, “I know you hate this.”

It’s his version of an apology, of words that he can’t ever seem to spit out right. It’s the exact reason you told him to leave you out of his irresponsible and illegal activities. Using quirks to fight was considered a heavy offense, landing some individuals life in prison. Katsuki learned to fight on the streets, and when he wasn’t accepted into U.A., he turned to underground fighting rings to satiate his need for justice and penance.

“You’re right,” you gulp, turning to crouch in front of him. You’re on your knees when you pull out the suture kit, “I do hate this. So why did you call me?”

His hand finds the fabric of your hoodie, curling around it to use as an anchor as you start to stitch up the particularly large gash on his rib cage. Bakugou grits his teeth, the answer coming out strained, “You’re all I have.”

Unfortunately, it’s the truth. Bakugou has become a rather recluse individual, relying on specific people rather than many. Deku earning a quirk and flying to the top of UA’s class was like a kick between the legs, something Bakugou wasn’t sure he could ever recover from. To watch his childhood rival rise on the charts, closing in on the other Pro Heroes until it appeared he would challenge even All Might in ranking, did nothing but tear down Bakugou’s confidence even more.

You noticed that he started to get involved in more reckless, high stake fights. He would call you, barely breathing, and beg you to take him home and put him back together. It helped that you had become a nurse while he was learning how to use his quirk to make money under the table.

And eventually you hit your limit.

“Katsuki, this has gone far enough!” you shouted, tears gathering in your eyes. You sighed, clenching your hands to fists, “It’s time to choose. I won’t be a part of this any longer.”

Bakugou growled, stepping forward even though he could only see you with one eye, the other swollen shut, “I don’t take orders from you!”

Your lower lip quivered and you threw the bloody stitches in the sink, your fingers worse for wear after patching him up so many times, “Eventually it’s just not worth it, Kacchan. Eventually it’s too much.”

“Maybe for a weakling like you,” he spits the words like venom, and you recoil as if they’ve stung, “but I’m strong enough to handle it.”

You nodded, nostrils flaring to keep yourself from giving away too much of your feelings on your face, “Then handle it by yourself.”

The memory alone brings the threat of tears to your eyes, heat gathering at your temples and making your forehead throb. You swallow the lump of emotion multiplying in your throat, begging your feelings to get out of the way so you can do this one thing, and then he can leave.

You’re sighing again, the sight of his swollen face making your whole body hurt, “God, doesn’t this get old?”

You wash his face with antiseptic before using a butterfly bandage to seal the wound on his face. The bruised eye will just have to heal with an ice pack and some pain medication, not much you can do so close to his dainty organs.

“All I know is my fists, you of all people should get that,” he snaps, voice teetering on the edge of patronizing. His hand flattens against your side, fingers curling around your ribs, “It’s been too long and I’m too far gone. It’s too late.”

You’re sliding forward now and he can feel your thighs settle atop his so he grasps you on either side, keeping you anchored to him as you work at his face. He has a few spots near his hairline and jaw that need to be stitched back together and you focus all of your attention on them, pushing away the reality that he’s holding you just the way you like, just the way you want.

You’ve imagined him holding you like this too many times to count. You always wanted to feel his hands on your body, keeping you enraptured in his presence, eyes glued in on your face while you sit in silence. Even if there were no conversation to be had, you would have been happy to find solace in his touch.

“S’never too late, Kacchan.”

The sound of you calling him by the name you used when you were small, when you were always chasing after him, it’s intoxicating. He swears he could get off on your voice alone - the way your lips curl around his name, how his chest tightens when you’re this close. The blood pumping in his veins is so loud he’s sure you can hear it thudding under his skin.

Bakugou tilts his head, looking up at you with his one good eye, hands falling to your thighs, “I’m sorry.”

An audible gasp parts your lips and you immediately blush, hating yourself for your outburst. It is rare for him to speak those words, to let loose the threads of honesty that haunt his mind. His face looks so open, so bare - eyes blown wide and jaw hanging open just slightly so you can see the pink of his tongue.

“Kacchan,” you shake your head, tears resurfacing as raw emotion claws at your chest like an enraged beast. You tie off his suture and drop your hands to his shoulders, thumbs brushing over the dense muscles connecting his neck to his throat, “Don’t.”

“All you ever wanted me to do was to be sorry and now that I’m saying it, you’re telling me ‘don’t’?” Bakugou’s voice rises with every word, his fingertips biting into the fleshy parts of your hips. He grinds his teeth together and his nostrils flare as he attempts to tame the fiery outburst that sits on his tongue, begging to be unleashed in a raging fury.

Your lower lip wobbles and he surprises you by brushing the pad of his thumb over the fullest part of your lip, effectively stealing your breath. He is being kind, gentle even, something you have not seen from him in quite some time. This is the Katsuki you know, this is the Katsuki you cherish.

There has always been something between you and Bakugou, ever since the two of you could figure out that you had emotions, but were competent enough to know how to hide them. He bottles himself up until he’s ready to explode, and you feel too much but your fear reigns you in and keeps you quiet. Neither of you spoke about it, although everyone around you could feel it, could see it.

Maybe that’s why you snapped at him all those months ago, telling him to choose. Maybe you wanted him to choose you so you could surge forward and kiss the breath out of him. But then he pushed you away, sidelined you as if you meant nothing to him; almost as if abusing his body and breaking his spirit was more important than you and the bond you shared.

“I-I’ve been so fucking lonely since you left.” Bakugou runs his fingertips down your jaw until he’s got your neck in his grasp, fingers spread out without issue over your throat. The tips of his fingers tickle the nape of your neck and you want to fall into him, to let him take you alive and never let you go. He could do away with you and you’re sure you’d still say thank you, still beg him to do it again.

Bakugou swallows and his throat bobs, but you snap out of your stupor to shake your head to fire back at him, “I didn’t leave, you chose fighting over our friendship.”

“Quit bullshitting yourself,” he growls, voice grating against his throat. You’ve never heard him so raw and real, so emotional. Bakugou grits his teeth together just long enough for your eyes to track the way his jaw muscles clench, “You wanted a confession out of me that night. You wanted something I couldn’t give you. And now you’re upset about it.”

And yet, the way that his hands hold you gingerly and warmth seeps into his carmine irises makes you think that he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, or rather what he’s denying. You roll your lips together, trying to rid yourself of some of the tension building up in your body. His eyes track the motion and it gives way to even more of his inner honesty to be put on display.

“Kacchan, I-”

Bakugou surges forward and kisses you square on the mouth, a bruising action that is over as soon as it’s started.

He pulls away, breathing heavy as his one healthy eye struggles to stay open at the sensation of your lips. His eyelashes flutter against the tops of his cheeks but you can’t notice because your eyes won’t even open. Your jaw is unhinged, mouth parted while you try to absorb what just happened.

“K-Kacchan,” you whisper, your voice too close to wanton.

His breath stutters over your lips, both hands on your face to hold you in place as he breathes you in. Bakugou’s hands are hot, warm against your cheeks, that familiar sweet scent making your head dizzy. You’ve missed the comforting smell, the reminder that he is close, within an arm’s reach. Other’s describe the scent as burnt sugar, but to you it’s a warm caramel, a familiar haze that makes you feel at home.

The both of you open your eyes at the same time, time moving slow as your irises meet. Your palms drift to his chest, knees shifting just enough so your hips brush his groin. Bakugou grunts, eyes dropping to your lips as his waist rolls upward to meet yours, “Fuck.”

A moment of hesitation passes between the two of you before you clash together in a searing kiss. His lips slot between yours as his hands drift into your hair, holding you close to him while he makes quick work of your mouth. Bakugou, even battered and tired, is skilled at knowing when to tug your lips and when to soothe you with his tongue. It’s as if he can read your mind, making moves you didn’t know you wanted him to make before your mind can catch up with your body.

“Kacchan,” you whine into his mouth as he sucks on your lower lip, digging his teeth into the sensitive flesh. One of his hands drifts to your hips, fingers digging into your backside as best he can from this angle.

He groans, “Love it when you call me that, shi-baby, say it again.”

You echo the name repeatedly, feeling the desperation in him grow with each syllable. He’s probably opened one of his wounds with the way his muscles are tensing but he couldn’t care less. All he’s thinking about is the way you taste, the way you feel. Your mouth is warm and gentle in comparison to his raging power, the desire to overwhelm you like an opponent sits in his belly, a fire being stoked with every motion. The touch of your hands in his hair is grounding to an extent; reminding him that he’s here, with you, and it’s not just a dream.

Eventually you have to part long enough to breathe, but he starts down the path of your throat, open-mouthed kisses leaving a patch of warmth behind. It’s as if he’s unable to let you go now that he’s had a taste of you. You whine, digging your hands into his shoulders while he works at your skin.

“I should’ve picked you,” he murmurs against your collarbone. He sucks a small hickey into the thin skin before nudging his nose over your jugular, “I-I should’ve made the right choice.”

You’re gasping for breath, the sheer force of his kisses from earlier still leaving you wanting. You look down at him, eyes blown wide and lips bruised from use, and you know that he’s telling the truth. There’s something in his irises that he can’t hide - a certain vulnerability you’re sure he’s only shown to you.

“Suki, I-” You swallow the hesitant lump in your throat, every word you’ve had pent up in your lungs for the past few months begging to be freed. Bakugou shakes his head and kisses you again, mouth silencing you before you can let out something too honest. He has to tell you the truth first; he’s been sitting on it for months, percolating with it and allowing it to eat him alive.

“I fucked up, okay? I get that.” Bakugou nuzzles his nose against yours, keeping his eyes closed because otherwise he knows he won’t be able to finish his sentences. “You scared me shitless, and I screwed everything up. I know that now. And I’m sorry.”

You brush your hands through his hair, tugging gently to reassure him. He huffs against your neck, “I wanted to choose you, I swear.”

“I wanted you to pick me,” you exhale, and suddenly you are Atlas and the world is being lifted off of your shoulders when the truth is spoken. Tears collect in the corners of your eyes but you know that it’ll frustrate him if you start crying so you lean back to try and keep them at bay. After taking a short breath, you whisper, “But I’m sorry I ever made you choose. That wasn’t fair.”

He kisses the base of your throat, lips muffled against the skin, “I-I can’t promise you I’ll just quit. This is my life right now. But, I-”

“You can’t change for me,” you tug on the back of his head to get him to face you. “I know that now.”

You’re sure his irises have never been so soft, so pale; amber gazing up at you in awe of your words. His lips are parted and you take advantage of the moment to lean forward and take his mouth captive. You slip your tongue between his lips, mapping out the curves of his teeth and gums. You moan when he suckles on the tip of your tongue, biting down gently on the base, enough to make you squirm.

He peels back to press his forehead to yours, gasping for breath so his chest brushes against your torso. Bakugou notices the glassy look in your eyes, the way your mouth loses speed the longer he kisses you.

“C’mon,” he murmurs into the curvature of your neck, “let’s go to bed.”

You blink slowly, “B-But, Kacchan, I-”

“No buts, loser,” he picks you up and tosses you over his good shoulder. A quirk-laced slap to your backside makes you squeal, “Kacchan!”

Bakugou chuckles, spanking you again, but this time much lighter. He rubs his thumb over your thigh as he walks you to your room, the trek all too familiar, “You’re falling asleep while you’re kissing me, loser. It’s past four in the morning.”

It does not take long for you to fall asleep after he’s wrapped himself around you underneath the covers, ankles crossing beneath the blankets. His hand is in your hair and his ears perk at the sound of your gentle snoring, adoration making his mouth turn upward and his eyes shine. Bakugou buries his mouth in the crown of your hair, kisses dropped over your scalp like flowers planted in a garden.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, squeezing his good eye shut, the other throbbing in a dull rhythm.

Somehow those words are easier to say when you’re asleep.

---

a/n: well, that started off alright and then slowly digressed into... dumpster fire. but hey, what’re you gonna do! i bet you hoes thot you was gettin’ some spice, huh??

taglist: @kamehamethot @simplybakugou @lady-bakuhoe @todorki-shoto @redhawtriot @burnedbyshoto @cookies-n-chaos @katsukisprincess @rat-suki @cutesuki--bakugou @k-atsukidayo @bnhatrashh @succulent-momma @voiceofreader @multifandom-fanfics @that-one-enthusiast @bitchtrynafck @cutest-celestial-princess @blue-peach14 @pastel-prynce @bokunokangae @shoutodoki @bakuoushoe @tenyaingenium @hoe-biscus @kingtamakimurder @myherofuckademia @myherowritings @lxvely-mha @myherorambles @ramen-rambles @bratwritings @samanthaa-leanne @orokayagi @tumblingintothefeelstrain @sunbeamwrites @bnhawritten @bnhasidebin @lovekatsukibakugo @aizawamirite @plusultrawritings @bnha-violetnote @yuueimagines @suckersuki @heroes-landing @bnha-mha-imagines @heroesreverie @pink-imagines @brattyquirks @kazooli

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katsuki one shot #bakugou katsuki fanfic #bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou katsuki boxer #boxer au #boxer bakugou #my writing #morgan writes bnha

2K notes · View notes

ancientwastedlores · 4 years ago

Text

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none.

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling”

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it.

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order.

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan. ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon. ‘I’m smarter’ you say. ‘I went to MIT’ ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’.

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh.

‘How far along are you?’ you ask. ‘Still running diagnostics’. ‘Still!?’ ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’ ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’.

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap.

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’. ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work.

Loki’s POV:

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people.

Take the Avengers Tower, for example.

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality.

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps.

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game.

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes.

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says. ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’.

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’ ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’.

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away.

‘We could play?’ I ask her. ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’ ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’.

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’ ‘Problem?’ ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’.

She says nothing.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would.

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’.

And she carries on, unbothered.

‘Y/n!’ ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked.

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’. ‘Sure, darling’.

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this.

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that.

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’ ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says. ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich.

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy.

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended.

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’. ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says. ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes.

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required.

And so she called me.

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard.

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’ ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses. ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’.

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles.

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance.

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows.

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy.

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her.

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall.

She spins the glaive and laughs.

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’.

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres.

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled.

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’.

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones.

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’. ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’ ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds?

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’.

Silence.

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’.

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning.

No problem. Cunning is my specialty.

‘Ready now?’ she asks. ‘Mhm’.

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock.

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin.

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen.

The illusion disappears into green light.

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’ I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’.

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will.

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

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’. ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’ ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’.

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable.

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks.

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’.

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n. ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’.

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter.

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’.

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’.

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’ ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand.

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed.

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’ ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again.

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3

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cherrynojutsu · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 3/?: Focalize

It is a tranquil spring evening by the time Sakura appears within view behind the hospital's glass entryway, a blur of carnation and sage and ivory. It is just a few minutes past seven; it seems she is waving goodbye to what he assumes is the receptionist further into the building, out of sight. Then she’s pushing one of the doors open with her shoulder and coming into focus, pastel colors subdued in dusk.

Sasuke notices she’s carrying a plain tote bag, and that there are also two large books and what looks like something reminiscent of a magazine in her hands, neatly stacked and held to her chest. She is wearing a sweater that is slightly oversized, a desaturated green.

Her face lights up when she sees him standing there, leaning against one of the blue columns situated a few steps away, closer to the road; her expression belays something like a mixture of ardor and avidity, and as she approaches, he also observes her cheeks match her hair.

His heart swells pleasantly in his chest; any shred of loneliness he felt in the past few hours dissolves.

“Sasuke-kun,” she chimes in affectionate greeting as she ambles over to him, all lenity and upturned lips.

“Sakura.” Her eyes flash lighter, more vibrant, as she gets closer; they are reflecting glow from a nearby streetlight that flipped on promptly at seven, an electrified yellow-green.

There is a short moment in time where they just gaze at each other, scant amount of steps between them, an oblivion of chartreuse and charcoal in spring twilight.

“How was your first day back?” She finally asks, smiling up at him.

He thinks it over for a second as he studies her, a gentle breeze of springtide. “...Fine. I saw Kakashi and the dobe.”

Her smile shifts into a knowing one. “I’m going to guess paperwork and Ichiraku’s.”

He pulls the health screening forms out of his pocket in answer, and her dimple makes an appearance.

“You can come by tomorrow just after eight in the morning, if that works for you; I’ll be here.” Different hours than today, then, he presumes.

He feels he should clarify that she’s not coming in early just for his sake. “...Shouldn’t I make an appointment?”

Sakura shakes her head. “Thursdays and Fridays I don’t have appointments or surgeries until a little later in the day. The majority of those mornings are set aside for medical research and correspondence with some of the clinics. As long as it’s before eleven, I can step away from things for a bit.”

Research. Interesting. She hadn't mentioned much about that in her letters; he hadn't realized it was something she did regularly. “What kind of research?”

She blinks in surprise, and he thinks she looks a little sheepish. “...It depends. Right now we’re doing some longitudinal studies on mice; behavioral assessment in accordance with certain stimuli, neurobiological response, brain scans, that sort of thing... I’ve also got some poisons I’m looking at for antidote development, but they’re pretty rare, so it’s not super pressing.”

His eyes flick to the books in her arms, a silent question. Her lips quirk upwards even more, then; he tries not to focus on them for too long, because she’s shifting the texts so he can read the titles. The thin magazine-like one is labeled Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology and Biological Psychiatry; it must be a research journal. The top book reads Neuroanatomy Through Clinical Cases, and the other reads Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release.

“...Some light reading,” he comments dryly, his version of a joke, and he revels in her soft exhale of breath, a shy version of a laugh. He has missed it.

“I suppose. I actually need to return these; they’re almost due. I meant to do it yesterday, but...” She’s blushing again. Vivid eyes meet his hesitantly before sweeping away. “...I forgot.”

Heat edges up his neck.

“I… wasn’t sure what you wanted to do this evening,” she continues, pursing her lips a little as her fingers clutch the books closer to her again. “I thought maybe we could swing by the library? I’d like to take a quick look to see if they have some new things in yet; it shouldn’t take very long.”

Sasuke muses that Sakura absolutely is the type to visit the library regularly. He used to go often, when he was younger. He wasn’t checking out books of that caliber, though; he wonders how long she’s had them. He also ponders momentarily if rogue ninja status is enough for the powers that be to revoke your library card from the system. Probably.

He hasn’t been able to read regularly for awhile, being away; books have been unnecessary weight, something extra to carry, and also a distraction from what he was trying to accomplish. Though he would accompany her wherever regardless, he realizes he would like to start reading again. It would be something to occupy his free time, when she is busy.

He nods his assent.

“Okay,” she breathes, looking a little relieved and meeting his eyes again, luminescent jade. "They close at eight today, so we should probably get going."

He nods again, glancing down at the books still in her arms. He considers for a second, then holds his hand out. Sakura blinks in confusion, long lashes skimming her cheekbones.

“...I’ll carry them,” he offers, neck heating up again as she stares. “...If you’d like.”

Her skin blooms with color, darker than earlier. “Oh. Thank you.” She hands them to him carefully, soft fingers brushing his. Her touch is delicate, incredibly distracting; her glowing cheeks, even moreso.

She adjusts her bag over her shoulder and then turns; he falls into step next to her as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

They walk just east of the hospital, which tells him the library is likely still in the same location, despite Konoha’s changing landscape. Some of the buildings they pass along the way are under construction. That seems to be a recurring theme in the village right now; much of what he saw earlier today passing through with Naruto was the same. Sasuke wonders if the library will have expanded, too. He doesn’t think he’s passed by it, yet.

There are a few people milling about, but not nearly as many as earlier. He supposes the majority of residents must be retired for the evening, inside their homes with family. There are a few restaurants they pass that smell fairly appetizing, but Sakura doesn’t say anything, so he concludes he was right in thinking that she has eaten already.

“So, how were things with Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?” Sakura asks conversationally, peering up at him from his right. “Anything other than paperwork?”

Sasuke contemplates before responding. “...Naruto and I went apartment hunting.”

Pink brows furrow a little bit as she grins. “Did you invite him?” She asks, though he suspects by her expression she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head. “Kakashi mentioned it as I was leaving and he invited himself.”

She laughs, then, glancing in the direction of the mountain of faces at their old sensei. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably appreciated a morning with Naruto out of his hair. He’s been helping there a lot, when he’s not on missions.” She pauses, then adds, “I imagine apartment hunting with Naruto would be pretty draining, though. He’s gotten a little better at cooling it with the nonstop chatter since Hinata, but not by a ton.” She stops again, thinking, before inquiring, “Did you end up finding a place?”

Sasuke nods. “It’s north of here.”

She smiles again, then purses her lips as if she’s considering whether to say something more or not. Finally she adds, green eyes darting to his and then looking away shyly, “...Not too far away, then.”

His gaze softens. “...Not too far.”

They amble by a few street vendors selling gardening supplies, closing up carts for the evening; they must be doing fairly well, as all that’s left over from the day's plantable wares are saplings here and there, and a few starters, small labels detailing their required care poking up from the dirt containers they’re sitting in. There are several taller displays interspersed between carts, stocked with watering cans, spades, gloves, and the like. Sasuke thinks it is quite trusting of the merchants to leave their goods out overnight, evidently without fear that they will be stolen or damaged; many of them are walking away holding only money boxes. It speaks to the relative security of Konoha, in comparison to most of the places he's been.

“Did you get everything you needed for your apartment today?” Sakura asks him after they meander a few more steps.

He blinks. “...Mostly."

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do, after the library? We could stop by a store, if they’re open, and get what you're missing.”

He shakes his head, then admits, “I… didn’t have anything planned.” He worries, then, that maybe he was supposed to plan something. They’re together now, or at least he hopes they are; he'd kissed her, and he would like to, again, if they're alone. Maybe this should have been more formal. He then thinks he should answer the second part of her inquiry: a box and a drying rack would probably be easy to find at a general store, but the majority of places in Konoha that are open past seven only sell food. “...I think the store I went to closed at seven,” he adds.

Sakura looks as if she’s deliberating again. “What are you missing, still?” He notices she doesn’t seem upset that he didn’t plan anything; maybe it’s okay.

It takes him a moment to respond, carefully. “...A small storage box, and a laundry rack.”

She brightens. “I actually have a spare drying rack that I'm not using, if you want it. The washing machine in my unit broke in February, and when my landlady replaced it, she got a washer/dryer combo.” She thinks, then adds, “...And I think I have an empty shoebox in my closet; would that be big enough?”

Something like serendipity unfolds in Sasuke’s chest and begins to vine between his ribs. He thinks unbidden of the blooming cherry blossom tree he can see from his window, just within reach, if he only goes beyond the glass.

He nods. “...Thank you.”

Multifaceted eyes peer up at him warmly. “No problem.” Her cheeks darken again. “We could… walk for a while, and then swing by there at the end. If you want.” Her fingers are gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “I wouldn’t mind walking by your building at some point before that, so I… so I know where it is.”

Sasuke nods again, heart skipping a little. He had hoped she would show him where her apartment is tonight, too; he would like to walk her home. He also hopes ‘walk for a while’ means he gets to spend more time with her between the library and going by his building, before they go to hers.

He thinks maybe he should voice that. It comes out as a question. “...We could walk around a bit after the library?”

She’s gazing up at him with red cheeks and smiling with a gentle light in her eyes. “...I’d like that,” she murmurs.

His ears feel warm again.

They turn a corner, and then they are at the library. There is a small expanded portion of the building on the south side now, and it is painted a slightly different mauve-leaning gray than it used to be, but otherwise it appears the same. When they near the entrance, Sakura pulls open the door for him, since his hand is occupied.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, before they head inside, bell on the door jingling.

The librarian working at the front desk nods at Sakura in recognition as they enter, a fairly young woman with chestnut hair. The librarian Sasuke remembers was quite a bit older, elderly now that he’s thinking about it. He briefly wonders if she passed away in his absence. The thought makes him morose; he hopes she just retired. She had always been kind to him.

“Finished with those already, Sakura?” The woman asks, friendly and motioning to the books in Sasuke’s arm as he makes his way to the desk to set them down, Sakura beside him. She must know her well.

“Yes; the journal was interesting, this time. Very relevant to the experiments we're running, and much more substantial than the last edition.” There is something somewhat critical in her voice regarding the referenced last edition, as if something in it wasn’t up to her academic standards. She’s well within reason to be captious; she has become an expert in her field in a rapid amount of time, and if she’s doing research regularly, he’s sure she has the data to back up her assessment. He wonders just what kind of experiments she’s running that have to do with neuro-psychopharmacology; whatever they are, he imagines they must be complex.

The woman is wearing a name tag that reads Ichika, Sasuke can see now that they’re closer. Sakura pulls out what must be her library card from her tote bag; it’s connected to a lanyard with several keys and what he presumes is an ID badge for the hospital.

“Thank you," the librarian says as Sakura hands her card over. As she does so, the woman glances at Sasuke with brown eyes, and then back to Sakura, as if waiting for an introduction. “And this is?”

“This is Sasuke,” she answers, smiling, then adds, “Uchiha.”

“Welcome,” the woman named Ichika greets him, without any malice. Sasuke wonders if she just doesn’t know who he is, or if she’s being friendly because of Sakura’s presence. Maybe it’s because she’s a civilian.

“...Thank you,” he offers sincerely after a moment.

“It was nice of you to carry those books. I know from experience they’re quite heavy. My name’s Ichika.” She gestures to her name tag. “I don’t suppose you like to read as much as Sakura does?” Ichika laughs as she hands Sakura’s card back and starts scanning the books as returned. “I think by now there are more books in the library that she’s read than ones she hasn’t.”

Sasuke glances at Sakura knowingly, and she looks downwards bashfully for a second.

“...I like to, but I don't think I’d understand half of what’s in these,” Sasuke answers honestly, turning his gaze back to the librarian. He sees Sakura flush out of the corner of his eye.

Ichika laughs. Sasuke thinks then that she really must not know of his prior rogue ninja status. “I usually have her write down the titles of the books she’d like us to add, because I don’t know that I can even spell some of the words.” She squints at the last book. “ Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. I haven’t the faintest idea what a neurotransmitter is, or what it would be releasing.”

Sakura smiles. “Neurotransmitters are the body’s chemical messengers. A release is when the neurotransmitter causes a response in the receiving neuron; they can be disrupted in diseases and biological toxins. Tetanus is a good example; it goes up synaptic terminals of interneurons where it blocks the release of inhibitory neurotransmitters. The result of the block is that motorneurons become overactive, and then cause muscle contractions and spastic paralysis, like lockjaw.”

Ichika blinks blankly. “I don’t know where you keep that information in your head, Sakura, because it certainly wouldn’t fit in mine. Guess I’ll try not to step on any nails in the meantime.” She’s shaking her head, but her tone is amicable. “Well, they’re all checked in, with a few days to spare. I left out the new journals and that other book you asked about in the usual spot, back in the Medicine section.”

Sakura nods, and the librarian’s gaze turns back to him.

"Would you like a library card?”

Sasuke is glad he won’t have to ask. “...I used to have one. I’m not sure if it’s still on file.”

“I can check our records, if you want to browse in the meantime. If it’s not still on file, we can set you up with a new one; you can take books today either way, if you find some you’re interested in.”

Sasuke nods; that was easier than he thought it would be. “...Thank you.” Ichika turns to approach a row of filing cabinets a bit further back behind the main desk area, he assumes to check for his name in their database; he turns to Sakura.

She’s smiling at him as if she wants to ask him a question, but she doesn’t say anything. When she turns to journey further back into the library, he follows. They pass through two interior rooms, organized by genre and alphabet just the same as they had been years ago. The shelves are a little fuller than they used to be; with the population expanding, it makes sense that they now have a wider selection available.

They turn a corner to another interior room, and suddenly he sees a familiar face. His replacement is hunched over in a corner, nose buried in a book that appears from its cover to be about painting. When Sasuke inspects the rest of the room, he sees that the majority of the books in this section have titles related to art.

“Oh, hey, Sai,” Sakura greets casually, heading over to him. Dark eyes glance up at her from his book. Seeing him here must be a regular occurrence, given her lack of surprise.

"Hello, Ugly,” he responds, somehow both cheerful and monotone all at once. Sasuke frowns. He’d been around Sai a few times following the war, before he left for his travels. He never liked his nickname for Sakura.

Sai then looks to him, still standing at the threshold of the room, keeping his distance. He knows him, but not well.

“Welcome back, Traitor," he adds, tone friendly enough. Sasuke supposes that one’s fair. He inclines his head minutely, hand in his pocket.

Sai twists his gaze back to Sakura. "Have you recovered from your birthday extravaganza?"

Sakura blanches and stiffens a little in surprise as Sasuke eyes her with great interest; clearly this was not something she’d expected to be asked about. "Uh… Yeah. It doesn't take long; I eat during and can heal my headache the morning after."

Sai nods. “Yes, Beautiful said you didn’t get nearly as plastered as she wanted you to.” The way he says it is with way too positive of an inflection, as if he’s talking about it being great weather outside instead of crude wording for getting drunk.

Sakura rolls her eyes, then. “She would think that.” She pauses, then looks at Sai carefully. "Ino should be back tonight, right?"

"Yes. I am excited. I'm feeling quite amorous."

Sasuke twitches and his frown sinks deeper, but Sakura rolls her eyes as if she is used to this lack of filter, and gently pushes his book into his face, firmly but carefully so as not to damage it.

"Too much information. Just say you miss her."

Sai smiles as he moves the book away. "It is less information than Beautiful gives."

"That's because she's not normal," Sakura replies, sighing. Sai nods almost mechanically, as if he is cataloging this tidbit on human social interaction away in a filing cabinet for future reference.

There is a pause that is just a bit too long, before Sai offers, “I am researching for an upcoming painting.” Sasuke doesn’t know Sai well enough to understand, but Sakura does; apparently this is his way of telling her that he is busy with his book.

"I won’t keep you, then. Don't let her forget about our plans, though, and tell her I missed our spar this week."

Sai smiles. "She was preparing a new playlist prior to her mission." This also interests Sasuke, but not as much as Ino trying to get her ‘plastered’. He is for some reason having great difficulty imagining Sakura even a little drunk.

Sakura sighs deeply through her nose this time, and says flatly, with no enthusiasm, "Great.” After a beat, she adds, “Well anyways, tell her I say hi. See you. Good luck with your painting.”

Sai nods, and Sakura then turns to go a different direction, Sasuke following close behind. They pass through four more interior rooms before they finally make it to the Medicine section towards the back of the building, where one book and two more medical journals are sectioned neatly away in an empty portion of shelf. The book is just as thick as the one she’d just returned.

“I didn’t know you liked to read, still,” Sakura mentions as she carefully picks up the stack. She’s smiling at him again; that must be what she wanted to say earlier. Maybe she’d expected Sai would be there, that they would pass through the room he was sitting in, and that’s why she’d held off.

Sasuke nods. “...I haven’t read much in a while.”

Jade eyes are soft on his. “Well, if you want to look for a bit, I could look, too.”

He nods again.

XXX

Roughly twenty minutes later, Sasuke leaves the library with Sakura, comparing what they’ve checked out underneath the streetlight just outside; the light has faded enough that it is a bit difficult to read without it.

They still had his information on file after all, though the woman, Ichika, had him fill out a renewal slip and updated his contact information to his new address before giving him a new card. It is a strangely comforting and nostalgic feeling, to know that he was still present in the archives of Konoha in ways he had been unaware of.

He had picked out two books: one about the history of kenjutsu in Fire Country, and another historical text documenting the overthrow of the daimyo in the Land of Silence. He has never been there, given it is beyond the reach of Shinobi authority; he figured it would be interesting to read about. With it being a samurai-led country, it made sense to read at the same time as the book on kenjutsu.

“These sound like you,” Sakura says after scanning the titles of what he’s picked, glancing up at him kindly as she rotates so he can read the information of her own. Cradled in her arms are the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, the other scholarly journal, Human Brain Mapping, the book from the Medicine section titled Translational Research in Traumatic Brain Injury, and what appears to be a fiction book, an addition to the others, titled Spoiled Suitopi.

“You read fiction, too,” he observes as he reads the title of the last one, and she takes this as her cue to shift them back together neatly into one stack, largest to smallest.

She laughs a little. “I try to. It’s a good mental reset after reading medical texts; everything starts to blur together after a while. This was actually a recommendation from Ino; she’s into the dramatic stuff, clearly. Sometimes they’re decent.”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to ask. “...A birthday extravaganza?”

She smiles timidly, expression shifting to something a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t call it that; she showed up at my apartment last weekend with ingredients for drinks, and then we watched terrible movies in my living room.”

Sasuke is learning all kinds of things about Sakura this evening. “No Sai?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s a me and Ino thing; he doesn’t really pick up on the nuance of them being terrible, and we figure we don’t want to give him poor examples to follow… he’s got enough of those already, dating her.” She grins a little, then. “Also, he can’t really handle his liquor.”

Sasuke thinks Sakura must be able to hold hers fairly well; she had seemed pretty confident earlier, regarding the morning after. He knows her mentor Tsunade has quite a reputation. He himself has never drank much.

“He’s... interesting.”

Sakura shrugs nonchalantly. "He's better than he used to be, regarding the oversharing. Ino is worse, honestly.”

He considers her words, then decides to drop the subject, because he doesn’t want to think about that. Sakura had said in her letters that Ino and Sai were together; he can only imagine what she knows about them, likely most of it against her will and learned in the manner he's just witnessed.

He shifts his attention upwards; a few stars are starting to peek their way into the night sky. He follows their path north, to the barest hints of lavender sinking below the horizon. It has become even more silent outside, fewer people and slightly cooler temperatures. There is still a breeze. They spent longer in the library than he'd anticipated.

He’s not sure what time she usually goes to sleep; if she works at eight, it’s probably early. He wonders if he should ask.

“Thank you for going with me. I’m sorry it took a little longer than I thought,” she says, before the question comes to him. He shifts his eyes back towards her; he’s about to tell her not to apologize because he clearly spent time browsing, too, but she’s already speaking again. “You said your apartment is on the north side, right?��

He inclines his head in an affirmative.

“We could walk that direction, if you want; there are a few newer things on that side of town I could point out that are kind of interesting. If…” She pauses, as if considering her wording. “If you haven’t seen them already, I mean.” She gestures to his selection from the library, gripped in his hand. “We could drop off your books, too. Not as much to carry back, then, with the box and the laundry rack.”

“...I’d like that.”

She smiles up at him again, tender effervescence. He realizes as they start making their way north that they both have been talking in more hushed voices, as if the blanket of nighttime shifting atop the village has quieted them in addition to their surroundings.

There is something soothing about treading around at nightfall with her. The village is well-lit enough that it’s fairly easy wandering, and lights emanating from windows cast everything softer, more inviting phosphorescence sifting onto the pathway beneath their feet. Earlier today, trekking back and forth between businesses and his apartment, it had felt more unfamiliar, like there was a disconnect and he was just passing through, despite the knowledge that he was transporting things to a permanent living space. It feels decidedly less transient next to Sakura, a hint of sweetness in tart recollections. He watches their shadows for a fleeting moment, cast close together to the right of them, near touching, and occasionally faded by windowpane glow.

There is a casino she points out a few blocks down where Tsunade apparently used to lose money fairly regularly. She explains it was her mentor’s favorite because it was somewhat close to the residence typically taken up by the Hokage; she used to call it lucky, even though she never won. Sasuke finds out through this story that the Hokage residence is still sitting empty; Kakashi has apparently still not moved there, preferring instead to stay where he has been residing for years. Sakura mentions in a softer tone that she thinks it’s because of his apartment’s proximity to the graveyard where his old teammate, the Nohara girl, is buried.

There is a long stretch of silence in which Sasuke considers just how Kakashi has always seemed able to see straight through him. He’s fairly certain the girl had been a medic, too.

“...Naruto’s house isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, either,” Sasuke observes finally, changing the subject. He’s with her right now; he doesn’t want to ruminate too long. He thinks that's improvement.

Jade eyes sparkle up at him. “No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure that was on purpose; I don’t think they intend to move again. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour eventually - he’s pretty proud of their place; Hinata keeps it pretty nice - but it has some extra rooms.”

He tries not to think about the implications of that for too long. Naruto being in charge of a tiny human is not a very reassuring thought, even with his apparent strides in social awareness.

They pass a yakitori place she mentions is good, a few more blocks down. It seems pretty calm for such a restaurant, not as busy as Ichiraku’s usually is, though it’s later now and they’re likely getting ready to close. “I’ve been there with Naruto and Hinata a few times,” she tells him. “At least, when we can convince him to go eat something other than ramen.”

Sasuke hadn’t realized Sakura was that close with Naruto’s wife, though it makes sense instantaneously; she has known her for years. He thinks for a second before questioning, “Is she still as quiet?”

Sakura purses her lips in thought. “She talks more, now, for sure, but she’s still pretty shy around people she doesn’t know well.” She smiles, then. “I think Naruto has been really good for her, actually. Her for him, too; they balance each other out well.”

He supposes that’s true; perhaps Hinata is the reason for Naruto’s continued emotional growth. He ponders momentarily whether he and Sakura will balance each other out well.

She’s looking at him as if he should say something, so he does. “...He had vegetables in his ramen today.”

Sakura laughs. “Yes, she does force vegetables into his food every once in a while, now, so he's more used to them. I think she might have slipped Teuchi some money to start throwing them in his orders, to be honest."

Sasuke snorts, because of course that would be how that came about.

"It’s for the best," Sakura continues, lips quirking upwards still. He tears his eyes away from her mouth after a second. "He was eating pretty much all noodles and junk for so long. Hopefully it’ll start to cancel out with a few more years.”

As they walk farther, he starts to recognize things from earlier today; a bed of alabaster azaleas surrounding a residential building painted green, and a rather large street sign on a corner, right next to an ornate bench. They are getting fairly close to his apartment building. He holds off on saying something for a little longer, though, because he wants to spend more time with her. He hopes that's not too selfish; he has missed her. A lot.

“There’s an interesting place over there,” Sakura notes, pointing out a clearly aged building that he thinks he walked by on his return trip from the market earlier in the afternoon. “They’re only open two or three days a week, but it’s antiques now. I don’t usually buy anything other than books, but it’s fun to look through; they get rare ones in, from time to time. The owner is really nice.”

He nods. That would be a good way to spend an afternoon. He suspects she must have a collection of books at her apartment, then. He wonders how many.

She is mute for a moment, as if in thought, as they pass through another intersection. He wonders if he should be adding more to the conversation, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence; just an easy one.

He spies another familiar sign, this one advertising the market hours. “...My building is a few blocks this way,” he mentions quietly, loath as he is for this evening spent with her to come to an end. She looks up at him for a moment, then nods, and he subtly starts leading her in the general direction of his apartment complex.

His building comes into view a short time later. He points it out right before they pass beneath the cherry blossom tree, and Sakura nods in recognition. “Sai used to live somewhere over in this area, before he moved in with Ino. I’m not sure where, exactly. I know he liked how quiet it was, though.”

Sasuke nods as he pulls his key from his pocket, and they cross the street. He had been right about the light pollution; there is little enough of it that one can see the stars rather clearly, more so than one could from the library.

He wonders if he should perhaps invite her in. He thinks of the letters, still sitting on the small end table in the living room.

She saves him from making the decision. “I’ll wait here,” she tells him politely, leaning up against the old brick. He nods.

He goes up the stairway, down to the last door on the right. Once he unlocks his door, he places the two books on the kitchen table inside, and locks the door again behind him. It only takes him a minute before he is coming down the stairs again.

She smiles at him, then blinks when he holds out his hand. She colors, he thinks, when she realizes he’s offering to carry her books for her again; it’s harder to tell with the lack of light.

As she hands them to him carefully, she says, voice soft, “My place is a little south of the library; not by too much.” Her eyes flit to his, then dart away; there is a careful smile on her lips. “Maybe a little over ten minutes from here.”

They wander together in an easy silence, her leading the way more now. There are a few crickets chirping. It was fairly warm out today, so it makes sense that insects are starting to make their return. A gentle breeze continues to waft through from time to time.

He walks close enough to her that he can faintly smell raspberries, each time the wind blows just right. There are even fewer people out and about now, it being closer to nine in the evening; the road is fairly deserted. They go by the library again, lights turned off, and more closed businesses. It soon transitions into older construction that he assumes must be residential.

She was right; it doesn’t take long, around twelve minutes at a leisurely pace, before she points out a building further down the street. “That’s the one.”

As they get closer, he notes that hers is also an older building, built out of cream brick; there is something nice about that realization, that she also apparently chose something older with a bit of history over something brand new. There are few enough street lights that one can see the stars overhead well at night here, too.

“There’s a patio or balcony attached to each unit,” Sakura remarks once they’re closer, pointing at one on the northernmost part of the second story that is brimming with potted plants, much more than any of her neighbors’. “That one’s mine.”

As they round the corner of the building, he assumes to reach the front entrance, she tells him it was one of the reasons she selected this apartment, aside from its proximity to the hospital and her family's residence. "My parents' house has balconies for both bedrooms. It was strange to imagine not having one. This one’s attached to the bedroom, too; it’s nice to sit out there, if the weather’s not too extreme."

It’s a smaller complex, only two stories high. He thinks there must be six units, given its size and the trio of balconies they passed beneath, three small patios in their shadows on the ground level. It is somewhat close to the hospital, as she’d said, but far enough away that it's not necessarily an area that would bustle with activity, even during the day’s busiest hours; it is very still right now, peaceful. They pass through a glass door that is not locked, leading into a common area with six doors, three on the main level, and then three on the second level, with a metal stairway leading upwards. A huge, two-story high bay window sprawls by the main door, overlaid in a diamond pattern, which must allow light to stream in the majority of the day.

Each of the doors to individual units has at least one or two plants framing it, but he knows which one is hers right away. An array of thriving potted plants surround the upper northernmost side door, spilling out to surround the entire right side of the banister that frames the edges of the building. Hers is also the unit furthest on the upper right, like his; another nice realization. A few of her plants are flowering, but for the most part they are varying shades of green, with accents of paler colors. Desaturated and calming, just as he’d guessed she would like, rather than intensities of marigold and cobalt and fuchsia. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting, but as they get closer, he thinks that the few blooms are pistachio and lavender and blush in color, like her hair.

Or her cheeks. Jade eyes are on him again as he finishes walking up the stairway behind her.

He follows her to her door and leans a little against the railing behind him while she grabs her keys from her bag; he doesn’t think she’d mind if he came in for a few minutes, but she didn’t explicitly invite him, and he wants to be polite.

Once she’s unlocked it, she turns back to him to take her books. Her hand brushes his, and it’s incredibly distracting, again. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles at him before disappearing inside her apartment.

She leaves the door slightly ajar behind her, and he tries not to look. He busies himself with observing what appears by her neighbors’ doorways instead. No light emanates from beneath the doors of any of them; he wonders, this being older construction, if more of the tenants here are older, and are perhaps in bed already. The upper units probably aren’t occupied by extremely elderly people, given the stairs, but the ground level units’ decorations appear more classic and refined, less youthful. He notes the pots surrounding the other doors are very matchy, but Sakura’s are less so; hers are various shades of neutral terracotta colors, soft and inviting, some with unique shapes.

She’s back quickly, foldable drying rack and shoebox in tow, closing her door mostly behind her. She also must have set her tote bag aside; it's no longer situated on her shoulder.

He realizes all at once as she meets his eyes, handing him the items she’s gifting him, that he does not want this evening to end.

“Thank you,” he says, voice husky.

“You’re welcome,” she murmurs, just as hushed.

Sasuke studies her eyes for a long moment, trying to commit the life in them to memory, though he already has, he thinks.

“...May I see you tomorrow after you work?” He finally asks quietly, trying to keep the hope out of his tone. He knows he’ll see her for his medical clearance in the morning, but he would still like to spend time with her outside of that, if she doesn't have plans already.

She looks crestfallen, smile slipping a little before coming back. “I would love to see you, but I have dinner with my parents every other Thursday, since I get off at four. They stopped by for a visit on my actual birthday, but they wanted to do cake and a gift tomorrow night after our usual supper time.” She pauses, searches his expression for a moment. “Maybe the day after tomorrow, if you’re not busy? I get off around four on Fridays, too.”

He nods, committing this part of her schedule to memory. “...I’ll meet you at the hospital, then.”

Her smile gets wider. “Okay. I can show you around the other newer parts of the village, if you’d like. The southwest side has really expanded.”

He nods his head in agreement, thinking. He would like to ask for more time with her, before he starts taking mission assignments again, but he also doesn’t want to monopolize all of it; she has years worth of life here, roots other than him that need tending. He hopes she’s saying yes because she actually wants to, and not simply for his sake.

He takes a deep breath, forcing down nervous vulnerability at his next question. “...And Saturday?”

She blinks, then blushes darker, smile growing wider still. She casts her glance downwards to her feet out of shyness, shifting a bit. “Saturdays I work seven to three; I’m going to stop by the market after for some gardening supplies with Ino, but other than that, I didn’t have anything set in stone.” But then jade eyes flick back up at him, and they are slightly apologetic.

His heart sinks for a second, rejection stinging a little behind his eyes. She doesn’t want to see me that often. He’s been absent for too long. She's probably tired of him already, though she hasn’t said anything. He has enjoyed tonight, but he's aware he doesn't make the best company.

“Naruto sent a clone by this afternoon that was going on about an original Team Seven reunion dinner, though. He mentioned Saturday night as a possibility,” she reveals, and his world comes back into focus, heart reversing upwards back into his chest cavity.

Sasuke huffs amusedly, then, relieved. “...Of course he did.”

She sighs wistfully, shaking her head. “Ichiraku’s, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried everything on the menu in triplicate, at this point.”

He eyes her carefully, trying to dry swallow his fear of rejection like a pill. Corrosion, he thinks. “...After dinner?”

Shimmering seafoam again. Happy, transparently pleased, and he’s glad he asked, shoved away the nerves; he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it’s going to make her eyes look like that. “Of course. We could… hang out here, if you want. Or was there something you had in mind?”

His gaze softens. “Here is fine,” he answers. It is more than fine, actually. He’d go anywhere, if it meant he could soak in her presence longer, but he’s more than a little curious about what her apartment looks like on the inside. His own is pretty sterile, even now mostly put together after the afternoon, devoid of most anything other than necessities. He has an inkling that Sakura is the type to truly make wherever she's living feel like a home, though, given the pleasant spread of life he’s seen spilling out here on her doorstep.

“Okay,” she confirms, dimple reappearing. “I’ll look forward to it.”

There is something in her eyes after a second, gears turning, a question she must want to ask him.

"Would you…" She's talking even more softly, now, hushed as if she's going to scare him away. Her eyes meet his apprehensively as she shifts her weight from one side to the other. "Would you want to maybe... have tea tomorrow morning? I'm… not sure if you have plans or not, but I have a little time, before I work. There's a good place near the hospital, and then after we could get your exam done at eight like we planned."

The vines between his ribs twist pleasurably. She does want to see him, after all. She's not too busy. She's looking at him nervously, as if he would say no, as if he hasn’t spent the last twenty-four hours longing for her company again.

"...I'll look forward to it," he answers quietly, because he will; he likes tea, occasionally. He thinks he will like it better with her.

Her entire countenance brightens somehow, even as she flushes darker. "Oh. Good." She sounds relieved.

"...I can meet you here," he finds himself saying, and her eyes are sparkling at him, now, at what's implied - longer with her, another walk together. "What time?"

She purses her lips now, apparently still nervous. "Would… seven be too early?" Her voice trails off a little, as if in hesitance, as she finishes the question.

He chooses his next words carefully, meaningfully, so there is no uncertainty. "Not at all."

She regards him then like he has done something wholly wonderful, cheeks a rich red in dim light and expression heart-wrenchingly elated.

There is an expectant pause as the oblivion happens again, dimmer now but just as powerful. He really wants to kiss her; he’s been thinking about it the entire evening. He wonders if she has, too, and if maybe she wants him to. There’s no one around, in this little entry area of her small complex, in front of her door and her plants in faded hues.

He decides to go with his gut.

It’s somehow even better, this time, anticipation and lips meeting and a barely audible exhale of breath through the nose on her part, almost like she’s suddenly at ease; he thinks, pleased, that she must have wanted him to. Her hands gently meet his chest, tentatively pressing against him. He would like to do something with his, but it's still occupied, holding what she's supplied him with. He settles for pressing his lips to hers with a little more confidence than yesterday. It’s tender and over much too quickly, much like the evening they have spent together; all soft light settling, lambent and beguiling.

She is crimson when they part for a breath, before shyly directing her gaze away and shifting back down; he realizes that she must have been standing on the tips of her toes to reach him.

Her hands linger on his chest, and then her gaze comes back up to his, almost determinedly.

“I’m… really happy you’re back.” Her face is still flushed, but she doesn’t look away. Her pupils are dilated, bottomless black dwarfing green.

Heat creeps up his neck. His pulse pounds just below her fingertips, as if she’s tugging at his heartstrings with them.

“...I am, too,” he whispers, before he leans down again.

He thinks that he could stay here forever, clutching all that she’s given him, enveloped in a sweet ambrosia of tart berry and newly unfurling plants and soft lips that he’s thought of all day, now against his again.

She gently drops her hands from his chest when they finally part. She’s smiling; she is so pretty.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is near a whisper. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“...Good night, Sakura,” he murmurs in response.

XXX

The journey from her place to his really is quite quick; he doesn’t see anyone on his way back. Stars are visible almost the entire way, Leo and Ursa Major and Cassiopeia. The moon is a thin sliver amongst them, raised high in the sky.

Once he's inside, he carefully folds out the drying rack she’s given him in the small laundry closet and lays out damp clothes to allow the air to finish the job. He's glad he didn't need to make another trip to the store. A trip with her was better, and she somehow had just what he needed. He thinks perhaps she always has, and his vision has simply been too blurry, obscured by smudged glass, to see it.

Sasuke retrieves the stack of her letters and places them in the box gingerly so as not to further bend them. He stares at the picture for a long time before also stowing it away, sliding the container onto the shelf in the closet for safekeeping.

He doesn’t feel tired yet, and it's not too cold, so he goes to visit the memorial stone, after, as he’d planned. He feels it is the right thing to do, after having been gone so long.

He confronts many things as he sits there, the bevy of crickets and soft swishing of grass the only sounds on this quiet spring evening, a long list of engravings barely legible in the shadows.

Melancholy is one of them, seeping in slowly, as he’d known it would. Grief and acrimony and betrayal, too. A little bit of anger, still. He also experiences sillage, the aroma of his mother’s flower garden and the scent of his aunt and uncle’s baked goods and the smell of an empty house, all blending together in his olfactory senses like it was yesterday, a bitter incense of nostalgia that is hard on the inhale.

This time, though, semisweet berry and antiseptic are also among them, memory fresh in his nostrils, and he experiences a little bit of comfort, too.

Sasuke doesn’t sleep well, after, but when the nightmare comes, gruesome, and he’s awake for the remainder of the night, he has some books to help steady him until seven comes.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #slow burn indeed we doing a snail's pace out here #like gold #fanfiction

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bluebellhairpin · 4 years ago

Text

The Perfect Plan

Masquerade / Medieval AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

A/N: So some wanted this, some didn’t specify, I had motivation, and @miss-consulting-timelord wanted to be tagged, so here we are. - Nemo

Summary: While you may not have known the mysterious man at the masquerade last night when everyone else did, you find out he was one of the only people there who knew who you were.

Listening to: This version of ‘Sky Full of Stars’ by Coldplay on Youtube - ‘You get lighter the more it gets dark, I'm gonna give you my heart.’

Part One - ‘The Perfect Partner’

Masterlist

You groaned awake, twisting around in the bedsheets in a feeble effort to chase sleep before it completely left you. But your mind went to other places before you could be successful.

The man you met last night at the masquerade - he was no mere man. He was important. He wasn’t just a royal - not in the way you were, or that of any others Historia had introduced you to last night.

He was a Crown Prince.

He was to sit a ceremony to become King of Germany in less than a month.

Naturally, you'd heard of the Ackerman's - anyone in higher society who hadn't been living under a rock had - so when Levi asked you your opinion of them (before revealing who he was, mind you) you were still a little apprehensive to give your proper answer. Too ‘mean’ and you'd come off like a snob, too ‘nice’ and you'd look like a bootlicker. You didn't like the prospects of either, but being around Levi made you feel something you were too used to suppressing.

He made you want to tell the truth - brutal and honest. But tact - that was something you were always good at.

"They do their job - as being the monarchs of their country - just like everyone else. Therefore, just like everyone else, I'm sure they have things they’re good at, and things to improve on too."

"What things?" He asked, barely missing a beat after you finished.

"Well," you said, letting out a shy laugh, "I can't really say, nor am I in a place to judge. I'm afraid I have yet to meet any of them, but in what perfect world do we live in that they or I do not have something to improve about ourselves?"

He soon after revealed who he was, and the relocation of it now made you turn back over and bury your face in your pillow.

Who were you to have said something like that to someone like him? It was a masquerade, of course there were people there of higher rank than you that you wouldn’t recognize. You felt so insanely stupid.

Rising from the confines of your bed, or the bed that was being kindly lent to you by Historia - you weren’t quite fit to travel last night - you wandered over to the window. It was a habit of yours to always look outside when you woke, even if most days the brightness of the sun made you feel blind.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” A voice behind you called. You turned around to face them in time to see a woman close the door behind her, a swathe of baby blue fabric in her arms. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to wake you, and here you are. Dreams do come true.”

You turned back to the window, looking across the gardens and to the city in the distance. It looked much different in the daylight. Then you caught yourself.

“My apologies, I should’ve introduced myself, I’m -”

“- Lady (y/n).” the woman smiled, “Her Ladyship told me much about you. You’re held in very high regard by her you know.” You couldn’t help but feel flustered at her comment.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” you said, picking at the hem of the nightgown you were lent.

“But here,” she gestured to the fabric, which now being draped over a chair was recognizable as a dress, “Her Ladyship sent this in for you, hopefully it fits. She also requests you join her for breakfast.”

“Oh, thank you …”

“- Nanaba.” She smiled. “There’s a screen over there, when you need some help just let me know. I’ll be right out here. Then I’ll take you down to eat.”

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

The dress fit very well. Considering it wasn’t made for you, you could easily let the slight tightness, and looseness in certain places slide. It wasn't like it looked bad on you because of it.

Before going down to breakfast, Nanaba helped you tidy your hair. You insisted she didn’t need to - you weren’t planning on having it held back or done up fancy - but you did have to admit, having someone play around with your hair did feel nice.

She walked you through the golden halls, down the cold staircases, out a pair of giant glass doors, and along a stone footpath through the garden to a summer house.

Servants scuttled about, and standing at attention on either side of the entrance were pairs of knights - Eren and Mikasa were two of them. In the centre of the house was a table, set up with - in your opinion - far too much food. Jumping to attention when you caught her eye, was Historia.

“Good morning! How’d you sleep? I hope you slept well, the bed wasn’t too bad I hope.” She blabbered, and then was interrupted by a cough from the other end of the table. She turned over to the source, then smiled and guided you over to a chair - yours, supposedly - and then fluttered back to her own. “And I doubt I need to do introductions, again.”

You then decided to look over at the other guest - who was none other than Levi.

You felt yourself get flustered all over again, completely forgetting the proper courtesy, and only thinking about how you’d ignored him up until you sat down - a generalized no-no.

“Stop fretting, (y/n),” he said, setting down his teacup, “Just because we’re in the daylight and now have company doesn’t mean I expect you to treat me differently.”

You took in a semi-deep breath, steadying your hands in your lap, and smiled over at him.

“You’re right. I apologize.”

“So,” Historia said, folding her hands under her chin, “I didn’t see either of you after you left the ballroom last night. Where’d you go?” she asked.

Little did she know, you both didn’t do anything much else except talk, and maybe steal another dance or two. But the most exciting part of the night was spying her sneak away with a tall brunette woman. Which was closely followed by catching yourselves in your hiding place, standing a little too close to be called ‘appropriate’. She didn’t need to know the latter, the former, however …

“Oh, nothing much really,” you said, “But I never even dreamed about the things you see in the gardens at night.” Her face fell so slightly, turning to eye Levi, and a smile drew on your face.

Levi hummed. “Yes, those things can stay in the dark.” He was looking right at you. Yet, you didn’t know what that meant. There was something he was trying to tell you in those grey eyes of his, and you just couldn’t understand.

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

There was something about gardens. The life they held in them.

Lush greenery, blooming flowers, the cool water fountains, and trees with their wispy leaves. In gardens as big as this, there was always something new in them, no matter what season. And now, on a warm, perfect spring day, it was as alive as ever.

Originally, when you’d stood to excuse yourself for your walk, Nanaba offered to keep you company, but Levi soon dismissed her, saying he’d go with you instead. And so he did.

Much like last night, he had your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, and had his fingers laced with yours.

How someone could make you feel so comfortable and safe after a few dances and a night's talk, you’d never know, but you would know it was possible.

“I’m sorry.’ he said suddenly. You looked over at him, pouting in confusion.

“What for?” You couldn’t help the lump that formed in your throat as your mind started to race. What if he didn’t want to speak to you again? What if he thought overnight and figured someone as lowly as you wasn’t worth a Prince’s time? What if -

“I’m sorry for last night,” he said, squeezing your hand, and pulled away to step aside and face you. “You have a kind heart, and I feel like I shocked you with who I really was.” He hesitated again before continuing. “And, still, I’m not completely honest with you.”

“L- .... Levi, you’re going to have to explain a little more. I really don’t understand what you mean.’

“The history between the royal families of France and Germany has thus far been close. I’ve known Princess Historia as long as you have. She’s told me a lot about you.”

He told you last night that she never mentioned you.

“And with every word she wrote about you, to me I wanted to know more. I wanted to meet you. Now that I have, I have to say I’m disappointed. Because you’re so much better, here, in front of me, than words she wrote on paper about you.”

───────✱.｡:｡✱.:｡✧.｡✰✧.｡:✱───────

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

“I dunno. It’s been a while though. A good fifteen minutes, huh?” The tall blond looked down at his redheaded companion. She smiled at him.

“Oh, do you think he’s confessing his undying love?” Isabel said, fluttering her eyelashes at him and holding her hands to her metal-covered chest. Furlan sighed, his hand resting on his sword hilt, and the other draping across her shoulders.

“That wouldn’t be like him. They’re just met.”

“Oh my - look!” Historia squealed - yet still very quietly - bounding over to the house's edge and pointed over their shoulders to where you and Levi stood. “I knew it!”

“Oh my -” Isabel had a too-large grin.

“- god.” and Furlan’s jaw was to the floor.

Levi - ‘I’ll probably die alone because I’m so old and an obsession with cleanliness’ - Ackerman, was being kissed by you. And he was kissing you back.

“Okay,” Isabel said, “You owe me, because I’m pretty sure now you know that he’s gonna bang before we both die.”

#masquerade au #medieval au #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman one shot #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan one shot

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cgmayra · 4 years ago

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Oh here's a prompt idea: Movie!Sonic meets Game!Sonic and they marvel at how different they both are. Amy finally catches up after chasing Sonic and is heaven seeing two Sonic's. Movie!Sonic having never met another hedgehog let alone one as forward and open as Amy is enamored and Game!Sonic is conflicted if he's happy a version of himself is loosening up but worried Amy will take too much of a likening to him. So like a sprinkle of jealous Sonic but we know where Amy's heart lies.

PROMPTS ARE CLOSED DO NOT ASK FOR MORE PROMPTS, MY CUTIES I LOVE YOU, BUT YOU MUST WAIT.

You’ll find my response to this prompt here: The pajama blogs 24:25

Prompt:

After a dimensional rift is created by Game!Eggman, the game counterparts are flung into Movie!Sonic’s world.

After some zany fun and shenanigans', the two finally realize the ‘double-ganger’ wasn’t ‘Shadow’ or ‘Metal Sonic’ at all, but actually a different Sonic!

“Woah!” Before Game!Sonic could even say anything, mimicking Game!Sonic’s actions a second as they both think they’re staring in a reflection behind a fountain’s waterfall effect, Game!Sonic is the first one to to actually say something. “You’re-! The other me! Oh, this is awesome!” Zips to his other side, as Game!Sonic is amazed but kinda used to these things by now?

So he simply smiles, opens his mouth to say something but then Movie!Sonic continues to zip around him and lift different parts of him up.

“I saw you save that rich Chris kid from falling off that tower. I also save people from towers, long story, quick spark notes, they’re now kinda my mom and dad. Oh~ Buckles! Shiny, but why a buckle? Do you not know how to tie shoes? Me neither. Do slip-ons exist in your world? What’s your world like? Never really knew mine. Were buckles ever in season? Trendy? Why are your arms the color of your skin and why is your quills a solid form, do you compact them with gel? That’s a lot of gel. Why is your blue darker than mine but my fur tanner than your... again, skin? Why do you shave? Also, you look a little like a two-eyed cyclops-HEY!”

Game!Sonic, rolling his eyes at the young energy, swipes the Chaos Emerald from Movie!Sonic’s quills and moves away from him, waving a finger.

“Thanks, that’s cool, weird. Buckles are always cool. No, okay, yes but no, exciting and beautiful, that’s a shame. Always and forever, because they are, no gel, all natural, I guess I get more sun while you get more bleach, and nice joints, stick-figure.”

Game!Sonic waited a second... looking a bit confused and/or offended... before giving off a goofy grin and simply stating, “Touche.”

“Do you know what this is?” Game!Sonic pointed to the Chaos Emerald.

“No idea, but it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Game!Sonic teased and hugged himself, “But in all seriousness, that weird, pudgy Eggman with the wild stache has been trying to snatch it from me like Chilifries!”

“Always the chilifries.” Game!Sonic shook his head and looked up as though relating hard with that, “Well, It’s important. I need 6 more of these... and wait, was Eggman ever NOT fat?”

The two stared at each other a second, and then Movie!Sonic looked away and puckered his lips back as though not wanting to say anything to the look that Game!Sonci gave him.

“Soniiiicc!!!”

Turning around, Game!Sonic winced and spread his mouth back, showing his teeth and an expression of ‘uh oh’ at the voice and figure coming towards them.

However... when Movie!Sonic turned around...

‘I know a girl who's tough but sweet She's so fine, she can't be beat Got everything that I desire Sets the summer sun on fire.’

As the song played, Amy’s quills swished around as she ran, her dress also scooted to one side and her smile lit up the world. She winked, but it was really just her ducking from the reflection of the water glaring her eyes and then jumped into a starstruck Movie!Sonic.

Game!Sonic looked down at them.

‘IIII~ Want candy~ I~ Want candy~’

“Oh! I’m so glad I was able to find you again, Sonic! Hehe! You can’t separate two fated lovers!” She squee’d, nuzzling in as Movie!Sonic’s eyes were a bit loopy but he shook himself free of the music and looked greatly conflicted.

On one hand, this is totally awesome.

On the other hand, fated lovers?!

“What just happened?” Movie!Sonic gently tried to get her off but her grip was ferociously strong. “Emm! Lady! I-It’s very nice-! Ah! To meet... you...toooooo!” He finally gasped for air when he got her off of him, but Game!Sonic just snickered into his hands.

“Amy, meet Other Sonic from this dimension. Then meet again.” Game!Sonic introduced them before giving a sarcastic look to her when he pointed back to himself.

She had to study them a second but then flew her hands up by her face, getting up off the ground she was sitting down on. “Oh my rings! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

She leaned over Movie!Sonic, “Wow! Now that I look at you... you really do look young!”

“And I’m fluffy too.” Movie!Sonic zipped back up, shaking himself off as he suddenly turned poofy from the friction in his quills.

“Ah! Haha!” Amy pointed and got lightly zapped, then clapped as though easily-amused by his antics. “He’s so cute!”

Game!Sonic had to do a double-take, folding his arms as she said that...

“You’re even taller than Sonic!”

Then pouting.

“And you’re uhh... As pink as a gumball!” Movie!Sonic thought fast, scratching behind his head in his nerves and leaning one foot out and up towards her, then skidding it on the ground to then move closer to her, where he had placed it. “N-not that I like gumballs.” He saw Game!Sonic’s expression and immediately grew nervous, shaking his hands out in front of her, “They get stuck in your teeth, but the sugar is nice.”

Amy just giggled, “Amy. Amy Rose.” She offered him her hand and instead of taking it... though reaching out for it, he looked over his shoulder at Game!Sonic and stood back, bowing to her instead.

“You must be a secret princess or something from your world, right? Is he here to protect you or something?” Movie!Sonic threw a thumb back towards Game!Sonic as she giggled into her hands, then swayed back and forth as her hands intertwined and laid at her front.

“Hehe, he’s a charmer... for sure!”

She then noticed the Chaos Emerald in Game!Sonic’s folded arms as he groaned at how sweet they were being to one another.

“Oh! A Chaos Emerald! I almost forgot! I was trying to tell you I found one, but I lost it to that Metal silver robot...”

“That’s gotta be Metal Sonic!” Movie!Sonic suddenly stated, “I saw him come through the portal when you guys did!”

“Two Metal Sonics? Oh no...” Amy cupped her face, worried about their own world’s Metal Sonic... “But it definitely looked funny...”

“Yeah, Dr. Robotnik is a funny sort of fellow.” Movie!Sonic thought she meant the doctor...

“Umm...” Amy looked confused, about to correct him but Game!Sonic stuck out his arm.

“It’s nice to stay and chat like old pals, Amy, but we could use a direction on where he went with that Chaos Emerald.”

“Oh, right!” Amy immediately gave them the locations, and as they sped off, Movie!Sonic kept showing off for Amy instead of actually trying to get the Chaos Emerald.

It was annoying Game!Sonic, “Hey, focus, man!” he cried out as Movie!Sonic was too distracted to realize that the robot was shooting straight at where he had dived to catch the Chaos Emerald.

“Oh no!” Amy covered her eyes, but then threw her hammer, “Just kidding~” she jumped into the battle and saved Movie!Sonic.

He was deeply embarrassed after that, and found he was becoming lamer and lamer the more he tried to impress her, being clumsy and the like.

With all the flattery too... Game!Sonic started to worry about Amy.

“Hey, ease up, will ya?” He finally told Movie!Sonic. “You’re making me look bad here...”

“Wait, really?!” Movie!Sonic shook his head pretty quickly, “I thought you were being cooler than me! That’s why I tried so hard to make a good impression!”

“What? Dude, I know you haven’t known Amy for very long, but she’s not someone to judge that fast. She’s got a good sense of character, and she knows you’re just nervous, loosen up and quit trying so hard. You’ve gotta be naturally cool to be a Sonic.” he dusted himself off and gave him his typical Sonic smirk and wink, pointing out his thumb and index finger and tucking it up under his chin. “If you believe it, then you are it.”

“Ohhh... Attitude. Got it!” Movie!Sonic stopped trying so much to impress Amy and went back to the mission, only concerned about his image looking pathetic around her.

Later, it was clear Amy was favoring Movie!Sonic, trying to get his attention in normal ways again, but he absent-mindedly disregarded her each time.

Feeling ignored, Amy went to Game!Sonic, asking if she had insulted or hurt Movie!Sonic on accident, and wanted to make things right.

“Gee, you’re really worried about how he sees you, huh?” Game!Sonic was pitching up a tree-tent to sleep under, tying a rope below the tree as Amy nervously fidgeted.

“I just don’t understand! I didn’t do anything to make him feel like I wasn’t be polite or kind enough...” she twiddled her fingers, but then, just as Game!Sonic was gonna tell her the truth, she embraced him from behind.

“I’m glad you’re not like that Sonic... at least, when I talk to you, you hear me out, right?”

He suddenly had a crooked smile on his face, and all honesty went out the window.

His ears curled as though horns and patted Amy’s arm. “Oh, of course, Amy! I would never treat you so poorly...”

She sniffled, and he beamed even more.

“Tell ya what, maybe you should stick with our universe for a while... make you feel better.” He patted and stroked her head in a condensing way, smirking at his own devious plans.

Amy was now very dismissive of Movie!Sonic, causing him to wonder what he did wrong. She was a bit vicious in her absolute disregard for him, not like his unintentional way with her.

Discussing it with Game!Sonic, he put two and two together and realized he had turned her against him.

It sparked a rivalry, a figurative tug-o-war before Amy finally saw them both work together to help her when she was surrounded by Eggman’s robots, threatening to make her a lab-experiment.

“This Dr. Robotnik is nuts!”

“Wasn’t he always?” The two said at the same time, fist-bumping and chuckling, as Game!Sonic let Movie!Sonic carry her back to camp.

After that, they didn’t let Amy get in-between their fun, and they sort of bonded over it.

Amy... was still confused, but was now fighting for both their attentions, as they led her on thinking they were ‘just too busy’ but secretly just liking her work for their attentions instead of the other way around!

Oh, but she got back at them!

By the end, they had two nasty bumps on the head to prove it!

“Phew! That was fun, but maybe... I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again.” Movie!Sonic lightly rubbed his large bum on his head before... “Oh great...” His eyes shrunk as a yellow fox he now knew was ‘Tails’ arrived and with him... a new rosy pink hedgehog...

And the hammer thumping on the head never ceased from then on in~<3

#cutegirlmayra #sonic prompt #movie!sonic #sonic movie prompt #sonamy #sonicxamy #amy rose prompt #crossover #sonamy prompt

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merrybrides · 4 years ago

Text

How To Plan A Summer Wedding

The Skinny on Summer Weather

Slap on that sunblock, because in nearly all parts of the country you can usually count on temps in the 70s (or higher!)—especially in the dog days of summer, like late July and August.

While sweet summertime means blue skies and balmy breezes most of the time, there are still some weather concerns to be aware of. For example, many east coast areas can experience torrential rain in the form of thunderstorms—soooo not ideal for an outdoor wedding! Then there's the south and southwest, where the thermometer can get up to 100 degrees fahrenheit or higher. An outdoor ceremony in this heat gives new meaning to the phrase, sweating for the wedding.

And, while less likely, there's the potential for natural disasters that can occur in the summer months. On the west coast, drought conditions frequently cause large-scale wildfires that bring hazy skies, poor air quality, and even evacuations. The opposite side of the country comes with the nasty Atlantic hurricane season, which begins June 1 and peaks in late August.

So…to play it safe, know what weather is forecasted for your wedding day, make sure to give your out-of-town guests whatever wardrobe tips they need to be prepared, and always—we repeat, ALWAYS—have a bad-weather backup plan. Just. in. case.

Summer Holidays

Besides fabulous weather, summer seems to be the least limiting in terms of holidays and other potential hiccups. While you won't have to compete with many major holidays, the months of June through July are some of the most popular times to get married AND go on vacation. You'll want to keep your guests' wallets in mind by giving them plenty of time to book flights and plan travel. Trust us, they'll thank you.

Here are a few dates to keep in mind:

Memorial Day – Always a Monday in May (Technically this is a spring holiday, but widely considered the unofficial start of summer)

Father's Day – Always a Sunday in June

Independence Day – Always July 4th, but days off can vary

Labor Day – Always a Monday in September

Hint: Save-the-dates for destination weddings typically get sent out 8–12 months in advance, while save-the-dates for local weddings can be sent out closer to 4 months in advance.

Summer Wedding Pros & Cons

There are so many advantages to getting married in the summer:

Typically gorgeous weather. Break out those sunnies!

There are fewer holidays to work around. Plus, it's widely considered PC to have an Independence Day or Labor Day weekend wedding.

The "Yes" RSVPs are more likely to roll in. Guests are often more willing and excited to take time off work and travel to a summer wedding!

Your outdoor venue and location choices are wide-open. Think barns, mountaintops and, of course, toes-in-the-sand beach weddings. The choices are endless!

However, there are a fair number of disadvantages to be aware of:

Summer is the most popular season to tie the knot. Venues and vendors often up their prices during this time, especially on weekends. Keep an eye out for peak-season rates when planning your wedding budget.

Destination wedding and honeymoon prices are also hitting their peak as most Americans book their vacation during the summer months.

Your favorite venues and vendors could be booked up months to years in advance for popular summer wedding dates.

Summer Color Palette

Unlike other times of the year and their seasonal hues, the sunshine-filled days of summer complement nearly any wedding color palette. While you'll typically see bright colors at summer weddings, there's no need to shy away from deep blues, rich grays, or even black. Don't be afraid to think outside the box when it comes to putting together your own colors!

Bridesmaids and Groomsmen

When it comes to dressing your bridal party, comfort needs to be at the top of the list. If you're tying the knot in the Deep South in late July, chances are your 'maids and groomsmen won't appreciate being buried under layers of fabric and accessories. Consider shorter dresses or lighter fabrics, like organza or charmeuse.

For groomsmen, you'll want to be extra certain you won't be causing sweat overload before the ceremony has even started! Stick with lighter suit jackets and vests—or ditch the jackets altogether. Look into a variety of different hot-weather-friendly looks like khaki, rolled sleeves, suspenders, or even shorts and flip-flops!

Working With What's In Season

When you buy what's in season, you get food and flowers at the peak of their supply when costs are normally lower. Plus, when they're locally grown they don't need to be shipped halfway around the globe. So not only do you save money, but you also reduce your carbon footprint. Win-win.

—Summer Wedding Food—

Much like spring, summer is peak harvesting season for fruits and vegetables. Summer's sunshine means there's no excuse to serve food that doesn't include a little color! As for veggies, the sky's the limit as to what's in season: green beans, cucumbers, eggplant, peas, and corn—just to name a few.

While fruit harvests are bountiful during this time of year, the weather can affect when they're ripest. Be on the lookout for melons, peaches, plums, raspberries, and blackberries because all of these are at their juiciest in the summer months. Fortunately, the abundance of produce in the summer can lead to lower prices, which is especially great if you're planning a farm-to-table wedding!

—Summer Wedding Flowers—

No matter where you are in the country, it seems that beautiful blooms are popping up all over the place. There are literally hundreds of options, but here are a few of our favorite summertime flowers:

Sunflowers. This classic is the poster child of summer, but we love how they add a pop of bright yellow to any bouquet.

Hydrangeas. These fluffy blossoms are summer staples that come in a wide variety of pretty colors.

Calla Lilies make a statement when bundled in a bouquet, and add a classy accent to any summer arrangement.

Amaranthus. From deep reds to fresh greens, this rope-like accent flower is perfect for boho or beach weddings, or even a more elegant affair!

Cacti. Use succulents like aloe and you can't go wrong.

Eucalyptus is a floral trend we're seeing year-round, and we're not complaining!

Pro Tip: Since some flowers are more prone to wilting in the summer heat than others, be sure to double-check with your florist before committing to any one flower or greenery.

Summer Catering Trends

With a cornucopia of fresh fruits and veggies to choose from, you may have already started your search for the perfect hand-lettered sign to direct your guests to the salad bar. Not so fast! There are oh-so-many ways to pay homage to the tastes of the season, not all of which involve plants. If your personal faves include poultry, beef, and seafood, they can easily be incorporated into lighter versions of classics. Or, consider fun, non-traditional alternatives like tapas (Spanish small plates), a festive taco bar, or even good old-fashioned barbecue!

Your reception wouldn't be complete without a summer-inspired dessert! How about wine-flavored sorbet, yummy ice cream, or other frozen treats like snow cones, granita, or gelato to cool your guests down on those warm summer days! Or, what about a classic summer staple like cobbler or pie? There are so many options to choose from, so go wild!

Summer Wedding Cake Trends

Play with light and refreshing flavors like lemon, raspberry, and coconut instead of rich, fudgy chocolate—unless that's your thing, of course! If you're not into the "naked" cake trend, ice your cake with summery frostings that showcase coconut, cherry, or Tahitian vanilla. Dress it up with sprigs of lavender or rosemary, some gold leaf, or a pretty ombré pattern. The latest trend we're partial to? Colorful brush strokes paired with bright blooms. You could even ask if your baker is willing to collab with your florist to match your cake to your bouquet! Your wedding cake—assuming you even have one—should be as unique as you are!

Summer-Inspired Wedding Favors

Your guests will no doubt appreciate customized hand fans to keep cool or neon-colored sunnies to block summer's harsh rays. Or, hit up Old Navy's $1 Flip-Flop Sale to stock up on cheap sandals for tired feet to change into. You can also pick up miniature bottles of rosé, tiny potted succulents, homemade jam, and even travel-sized bottles of sunscreen with a custom sticker slapped on. And if you're really on a budget, how about some fresh seasonal fruit for your guests to enjoy?

Summer Signature Cocktails

If you're serving cocktails on your big day, there's no better time to get creative than during the summer! Sparkling wines, champagne spritzers, and fruity cocktails are just the tip of the iceberg. Hit up your bartender (or just the drink-maker at your fave hangout spot!) for custom cocktails inspired by you and your fiancé. Refreshing berry mojitos, vodka-infused Arnold Palmers, boozy sangria, and mango bellinis—oh, yes! Just be sure to have water available for your guests at all times to keep them hydrated. Drink up!

#summer weddings #summer wedding planning #summer wedding ideas #wedding planning #wedding planning ideas

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wide-eyedscottishlass · 4 years ago

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Scarlett and the Professor - a lazy Sunday morn

[continued from]

moodboard by @strangelock221b 💙

Scarlett flipped onto her side, instinctively turning away from the sunlight filtering through her closed lids. The silk sheets cocooning her were slick and cool, but the sun had warmed her face enough to awaken her senses. In moments more, she breathed deeply--taking in the heady scent of all that sex, that astonishing, wicked, glorious sex--and gave out a purr of satisfaction. She was smiling before she even opened her eyes, remembering herself--happy and sappy and deeply in love.

“Ah, at last,” he chuckled; she heard not only his genuine amusement, but the crinkle and flip of some large pieces of paper. Newsprint? A newspaper than. Scarlett smiled into her pillow; of course he would prefer paper over the digital version. True hedonist that he was, Hennessy would always opt for the most tactile sensations.

“There’s my little sleepyhead,” he added with true affection, so that she popped one eye open and then the other. Hennessy sat up against the headboard, a couple of pillows propped behind him, bare to the waist. His long legs stretched out before him, covered in a pair of dark grey, silk pajama bottoms, and his feet were also bare. Scarlett sighed softly; when even his feet appeared to her as sexy, it must certainly mean there was no saving her from the beautiful fall she was taking.

She reached up to check the tangle of her hair, blinking at the strong sunlight filling the room. “Mmmmm...why didn’t you wake me?”

He flicked the top of his newspaper down to the crease, favoring her above his reading glasses with indulgent mirth. “My darling Scarlett, you needed your rest, of course. My fault too, as you were rather spent by the time I finally let you sleep uninterrupted.” His grin was smug, yet still she saw his genuine fondness for her, weakening her heart all over again.

“I’m not spent now,” she urged him, shimmying close enough to lay her hand on his bicep.

He pursed his lips, his eyes widening, “Well, haven’t you learned your lessons well! And now looking for extra credit...”

Scarlett batted her lashes and replied breathily, “Extra, extra...Hennessy.” She had already come to love how he looked when she dared call him by name.

His mouth dropped open as if to respond, but he was interrupted by the loud buzz of a text alert on his mobile. “Hold that thought, little lamb,” he commanded, “And I promise to give you all the attention you so deserve.” Hennessy took a perfunctory look at his phone, them jumped up from the bed, taking giant strides to the door. He turned back her way, eyeing her as though he saw right through the sheets, while his smile grew salacious. “Mmmm...mmmm...mmmm! You could almost make a man forgo his other hungers, Scarlett. But we don’t want out breakfast growing cold now, do we?” He dashed from the room.

Perplexed and a bit stymied--god, how perfectly divine he’d looked framed in the doorway, all firm, warm flesh, so srtong and long and lanky, that all she wanted was to mold her body to his as she lay beneath him--Scarlett turned onto her back and gave a long, languorous stretch, waiting upon his return. She heard his heavy front doors close and then imagined him taking two steps at a time back up to his bedroom suite. The mouthwatering scents of fresh pancakes and bacon preceded him into the room.

“Voila! Here’s my version of breakfast in bed.” Hennessy seemed very pleased with himself and with surprising her, crossing to the bed and setting down two plastic sacks filled with cardboard containers. He put a smaller paper bag on his bedside table, which turned out to hold coffee and orange juice.

Scarlett’s stomach had begun to rumble the moment the aromas reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything in over twelve hours. She scooted up against the headboard, keeping the sheet decorously across her breasts, while Hennessy took his place beside her and began to dole out their meal. “There’s bacon and sausage, darling. Wasn’t sure you had a preference, but there’s more than enough of both.” There was plenty of syrup and butter, too, and a container of sliced and sugared strawberries, along with whipped cream, to top the pancakes. And a heaping serving of cheese-topped scrambled eggs.

She tucked in with relish, and Hennessy laughed good-naturedly at the evidence of her hunger, the smile lines beside his pale blue eyes (Scarlett sighed inwardly; they always look so astonishingly pale in strong sunlight!) grown dearer than ever to her heart. Since the moment that he’d taken her in full, she’d already stopped herself from saying that she loved him a half dozen times--and he was making it very hard for her to continue to suppress that urge.

“What?” He asked, around a forkful of pancakes and eggs. He must’ve have seen a flicker of that thought cross her face.

“Oh...ah...nothing...really,” she fibbed, lowering her eyes so he wouldn’t read more, “I’d been hoping to make some scones this morning---but this...this is so much better...”

“It is, isn’t it!” He hummed a jaunty tune as he set himself a second serving of everything. “But please don’t be too disappointed about your scones, love. The morning paper and breakfast takeaway in bed is a Sunday ritual I will never go without, come hell or high water.”

“Of course...” The danger of him guessing how soft she was for him seemed to have passed for the moment.

“But if it would make you happy, we can have them with tea this afternoon. Or failing that, another breakfast morning. Would that work for you?”

“Oh, yes,” she nodded, happier at the implication that there were further breakfasts together in their future, than for the promise of the scones themselves. “Whatever you want...darling.” His smile was pure sunshine as he leaned in and kissed her mouth, before returning to his meal.

After they broke their fast, he had her in the shower, amid a thick wall of steam created by the dual showerheads--taking her with such a stunning ferocity that he left her filled with speechless bliss, and legs shaking so badly that she had to lean on him for several minutes until she felt strong enough to support herself. Though he was both amused---his low rumbles of laughter at her very flattering reaction had echoed all around them---and highly satisfied, he also became the soft, solicitous lover in the aftermath, smoothing gentle hands upon her wet hair and scattering loving kisses on her face, murmuring endearments against her skin.

’My darling...my angel...my lovely, little lamb. My sweet, sweet Scarlett...’ Spurring her to ask herself: how can he see to my needs this way and still not know he owns my heart?

Why, he’d even stepped from the shower first--telling her to just hold on a tic--grabbing a thick, thirsty towel to swaddle her in before he wrapped one around himself, and then had guided her to sit on the padded vanity stool next to the long bathroom counter. Never having observed a grown man in his morning ablutions, Scarlett found herself fascinated watching him run gel through his thick, dark hair, trying to get it to behave as he preferred, and then lather up and shave. Shaving with meticulous care, the quiet scrape of the razor against his skin reminding her that this was all very real. That this complicated, brilliant, perpetual temptation of a man had welcomed her not only into his bed, but into the privacy of his home and the rhythm of his life.

The air was soon rich with his scent--Bleu de Chanel--as he applied a generous dose of aftershave. When he grabbed his toothbrush, he turned to her with a grin, “I’m almost all set, love. Then you can have the room to yourself to do...whatever it is you do to keep yourself looking so...hmmm...scrumptious.”

Scarlett nodded, though she would have been just as content to simply watch her magnificent lover--her private Hennessy--in the domain which reflected exactly who he was, going about even his most ordinary tasks. Her heart was so entranced now that she wanted to memorize his every detail.

He gave her another toothy grin, then strode over to deposit his towel in the hamper, casually revealing the full glory of the form she had come to worship. He flashed her a wink when he caught her staring-- she just couldn’t help herself, and odds were he knew that. “You might want to suit up, darling. It looks to be the perfect day for a swim.” Then he was out the door, leaving Scarlett to daydream her way through her own morning toilette, wondering what new lessons Hennessy might have in store for her. Eager to learn--and even more eager to please.

____________________________________________

Scarlett had plaited her damp hair into a Dutch braid, draped across her shoulder, hoping to keep her hair tidy if they did end up taking a swim. She slipped into a modest tankini with her denim capris over that, and then grabbed her rucksack before she headed downstairs. If Hennessy was busy--she’d noted he had taken his newspaper to wherever he’d gone off to--she had a bit of actual course work to do. Sketches for a study of the natural world, prep for an end of term project--a large, landscape painting in the artist’s choice of medium, along with a portfolio of drawings and any other work she did towards the completion of the final piece. She’d found the seeds of inspiration in Hennessy’s wild-grown garden, as well as in his serene shingle of private beach, and she was keen to make a start.

She found him with his paper beneath the patio umbrella, with an iced pitcher of lemonade, one empty glass and one half-full, upon the wrought iron table. As he had advised her, he was clad in swim trunks and a matching, athletic fit surf tee. In blues and sea greens of course, the hues that not only dominated his casual color palette, but flattered him perfectly.

Scarlett set her bag on one of the spare chairs, poured herself some lemonade and then topped off Hennessy’s glass. He thanked her before turning his attention back to the crossword puzzle he was working on. “You do them in pen?” she observed.

“Is there any other way?” he had narrowed his eyes while he was trying to work out a clue, rhythmically tapping his ball point pen on the glass table top. “Six letter word ending in k-a...an exclamation...hmmmmm...”

She couldn’t resist chiming in, ‘eureka’ just as she began to set out her supplies, then pulled her sketchpad from her rucksack.

“Eureka, indeed,” he chuckled, glancing over to watch her preparations. “And what’s this, little lambkin? Another hidden talent?”

“Depends on what you would consider talent, Professor,” she stated modestly, “I draw a little, I paint a little. Always looking to improve.” She opened up to the middle of her sketchpad, several pages past the drawing she had indulged in the previous afternoon, meaning to avoid him catching sight of it.

“And what sort of things give you inspiration, my dear? People, places...things, mayhap?” Hennessy’s curiosity had been piqued, and he was craning his neck to get at least a little peek.

”Well, yes, of course,” she teased innocently, not ready to volunteer a thing, while setting the edge of her pencil onto the rough surface of the blank page. There was the scrape of chair legs dragged across the calypso coral stone beneath their feet as he drew nearer, and soon he’d made it impossible for her not to acknowledge that he was leaning in close, laying his hand on the back of her neck, toying with the few stray hairs that had escaped her braid. Scarlett turned her head slightly, just enough to see Hennessy from the corner of her eye, catching enough of him to recognize the mischievous glint in his. “What,” she asked quietly, realizing that she would accomplish nothing until she had at least humored him.

“Just curious, darling.” He ran a single finger across her bare shoulder and down her arm, a sure and pleasant distraction, softening her resolve. “I think you’d like to show me your work. Wouldn’t you, Scarlett?”

“I suppose,” she replied with a sigh, though she remained uneasy about how he would react to the liberty she had taken, of sketching him.

“Always my good girl.” He brushed a quiet kiss upon her cheek and then rested his hand on the center of her back, waiting patiently as she flipped back to the opening page.

“Some of these are incomplete,” she noted, “Mostly just for practice, or because I haven’t decided yet what other elements should be part of the composition.” Scarlett could feel his eyes study the page she had revealed, a very flawed study of the little cottage of her youth. “And of course, there’s a lot of trials and error.”

“That’s home,” he observed, sounding more fascinated than such a simple thing usually allowed for.

“Uh-huh.” Encouraged by that sign of his sincere interest, she turned a few pages more, where her work depicted rustic exteriors of her native Scotland, and several sketches of the village-side inlet that she would forever think of as her own. Next came several studies of a sunny, seaside bay, ringed to the beach’s edge with one and two story buildings set very close together. To the last of these, she’d chalked in traces of color--vivid blue for the water, pale pastels on random buildings--and had treated the sketch with a fixative to keep the chalk from rubbing off.

“These are lovely, Scarlett,” he exclaimed, absentmindedly massaging the stretch of skin between her shoulder blades. His touch felt blessedly cool on her sun warmed flesh.

“You needn’t sound so surprised, Professor,” she replied coyly, so that he chuckled and laid a kiss on her shoulder.

“I’m not, darling. Truly, I’m not.” He drew a deep breath, then added, “Though I’m curious about where these are from.”

Scarlett paused a moment, recalling those endless, sunny days and balmy, starlit nights. “They’re from my time in Mykonos, at the end of my gap year.”

“Clearly, you found the place enchanting, my dear. Why, it nearly leaps off the page!”

She watched his profile as he leaned in for a closer look. “Do you really think so?” How happy it made her to see his enthusiastic response!

“Absolutely,” he assured her, giving a low whistle of appreciation, “And if I had to guess, I’d say that you were at least a little bit in love with the place.”

“I...I was...” she breathed softly. And with a beautiful young man there. My dear Benedicktos.

Inevitably, the next series of sketches raised Hennessy’s curiosity even further. “And who’s this?” Scarlett heard a trace of judginess creep into his voice.

“Oh...um...an artist I met while I was there...” Artist, sculptor--and if only our stars had aligned properly, he would have been my first. My first lover.

“I see...” And surely Hennessy could see her true feelings for her Bene, pictured in the loving way she had drawn his lines and angles. One page was filled with thumbnail sketches of just his face in profile. She had worked a couple of those into larger versions, and chalked color onto them as well. They showed a thick, unruly crown of dark, windswept curls. Smooth, well tanned skin and a sensuous looking mouth. And eyes of pure sea green.

“I think you were at least a little bit in love with this boy, too,” he observed quietly, and he gave her a beat to respond, though she could not for the lump in her throat. “Weren’t you, Scarlett?”

She took a deep breath, gathering her composure as well as her wits; she would not share that golden time with Hennessy. Not yet, anyway. “I suppose I was, at least a little bit...but then, it’s easy to fall in love in a place like that...”

“I suppose it is, little lamb. And lucky boy he must’ve been.” To her wonder, his smile felt a little false. He couldn’t possibly be jealous, she told herself; doesn’t he realize I’m his completely?

She tried to turn rapidly over the following pages, but Hennessy stayed her hand, determined to see the full story. Scarlett had draw Benedicktos sitting shirtless and cross-legged at the water’s edge. Standing and gazing out at sea, watching the sun set. Smiling vibrantly, cheeks creased with rows of dimples, while he appeared to be laughing. The last sketch showed him shirtless again, his smile softer but no less dazzling, as he stood in the prow of a fishing boat, a tall line of verdant cliff tops in the distance, the blue of the sky just a little lighter than that of the Mediterranean.

Her teacher had gone silent as she flipped past the last page in that series and put the pad down. “Hennessy?” She placed her hand on his, where it rested on the table. “That was years ago. Sometimes it feels like a lifetime--once I got home, my mother fell ill for some time, and...and we fell out of touch right away.” He nodded and smiled, but she felt she needed to offer more. “That’s how holiday romances go, right? Golden but fleeting...” And now my heart belongs to you. Forever, by the feel of it.

“Yes,” he nodded again, and she wondered if he caught the flavor of that thought, for he raised her hand to brush his lips against her fingers. He studied her face a moment, and his sunshine smile returned. “But I want to see them all, darling. You do have quite a talent.”

And so they continued. Hennessy laughed genially at her studies of her little black kitten, Chaucer, ranging across her book shelves, warming himself on her laptop keyboard, and curled into a fluffy little ball upon her bed pillow. “I swear, he really did all those things,” she confided, glowing a little in the face of her lover’s generous regard, “It’s like he owns the place now, and I’m just the guest.”

Hennessy clucked his tongue. “Bosh. We’ll see who runs the place when I come to visit. My will is certainly far stronger than his.”

A little thunderstruck, she asked him breathlessly, “You’d come to see me at my flat?”

“I don’t see why not,” he grinned, and then seeing what it meant to her, he issued a hasty disclaimer. “Of course, that’s no promise it’ll be any time soon, my dear. Timetable to be determined.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Scarlett nodded, doing her best not to seem disappointed. It was too much, too soon to have expected, anyway.

At last they arrived at the sketch, the one over which her anxiety had been gradually growing. The moment of truth. She averted her eyes at his sound of surprise, as he stood up and took the pad right out of her hand, to finally exclaim, “Well, I’ll be damned!” In the brief silence that followed, she could hear the thump of her own heart, hoping against hope that he had meant that in a good way. “Scarlett...darling...when did you do this?”

She finally raised her eyes, to find such an open, soft expression on his features that her heart just about skipped a beat. “Yesterday. After I...left you in the study...”

Hennessy crooked his trademark, honest half-smile her way. “This...this is really good, my dear. And I have to say...quite...flattering.”

Scarlett was memorizing the look of genuine wonder in those eyes that had the power to command her and cajole her. Frighten her for breathless moments, and just as effortlessly mesmerize her. Fancying that someday soon she’d capture the chameleon beauty of those eyes in this particular moment, in charcoal and in chalk, so to frame them and keep them well beyond the days when his interest in her finally waned. “I just drew the truth, my jo,” she shrugged, “Exactly as I saw it.”

His mouth hung open as he reached to brush back some strands of hair that had fallen across her forehead, then stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You have a true artist’s eye, love.” His voice was the velvet caress she had come to crave. “And your romantic nature shines through in...all of these pieces. I am both flattered and honored by this...gentle version of me. By the beauty you’ve rendered to even my most...jarring...defects.”

She bit her lip, and could only bow her head in thanks, else her voice might break with the tenderness he stirred her to. Jarring defects. His mysterious scars. How she ached to know their origin, and to give him comfort for whatever pain he’d suffered from them--though she knew she could not, should not, ask. But at least she knew she’d touched his heart in their regard, and that would have to be enough for now.

Still tracing her cheek, Hennessy moved into a crouch beside her. The heat had brought a ruddiness to his face and the bright sunlight allowed her to study the soft smattering of freckles across his skin. Scarlett had a moment to think about how very much she’d like to capture this look on him, deciding that her Prismacolors colored pencils might be best, before he moved in close enough for kissing. “Would it be too vain of me to say that sketch is my favorite, darling?”

“No. Not at all,” she breathed, contemplating how she might express on paper, the perfection of his cupid’s bow, the temptation of his tender lower lip. Even unto the wee scar that couldn’t mar it’s beauty, and which she had already tasted countless times, and hoped to taste countless more.

“Perhaps someday you’ll sketch me with the passion you expended on your Greek boy.” He was teasing her, of course; he had to be. He couldn’t know she was thinking exactly that. “In fact, I would enjoy that very much, Scarlett. To have you ply your...talent...on me.”

Hennessy’s breath was on her lips now, the promise of his kiss achingly close. She shut her eyes, panting in anticipation. “Yes...on me, sweet Scarlett. On me, and me alone.” She whimpered beneath the searing power of his kiss, as though by accepting it, she’d made some sort of Faustian bargain--and thus he had claimed yet another piece of her soul.

_________________________________________________

tagging: @strangelock221b @ben-locked @ben-c-group-therapy @thelostsmiles @splunge4me2art @humanbornarchangel @tsukuyomi011 @ravencatart @doctor-stephenstrange @letterstosherlock @emilyinnj4real @aeterna-auroral-avenger @frowerssx2 @groovyfluxie @candie-girl22

(And yes, my friends, I promise there will be watery fun to come in the next installment *grinning wickedly*.)

#my writing #Scarlett and the Professor #I hope you find it worth the wait!#Scarlett Cambell #OFC #her devilish lover #Scarlett's Professor #OMC #not my OMC and used with permission #as long as tacit permission remains #Professor Hennessy #Hennessy #[I have to be honest - when I wrapped this chapter up the other day]#[before editing it ofc - I felt like a 'real writer; like this could really be a book]

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scribeofmorpheus · 4 years ago

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Himmeløyne [22/?]

Pairing: Loki Odinson x Reader

Catch Up Here | Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: I have started my first original gothic story (it'll be much darker than this fic but can I offer you werewolves, vampires, 1970s Europe aesthetic as an incentive?). It's on Wattpad and I intend to update it every Wednesday, but I never stick to update schedules so... Here ya go: OUR LADY OF DARKNESS

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment or leave a like please ☺

~Y/N

The end of the abyss—that frightful stream of continuous fall and forceful uplift—it finally had an end. It was a large door. Smell of rain and storms, with the slick glisten of wet rock hugging the archway. A dark type of stone, jagged and natural, the door seemed to be carved into the side of a mountain. But the mirage ended where the rock began, there were no walls. No infrastructure. Just the green of the mirror world and two hunkering doors. The archway was carved in the shape of a snake; same as the kind that embellished the rigging of ships, tongue curled, eyes made of rings within rings.

A sequence of lettering—foreign, yet oh, so familiar—hovered in the mist, your mind scrambling to make sense of the words.

“Oracle, what is this place?”

The whisper was quiet, for a brief moment you worried that you were truly on your own in this stretch of emptiness.

I sense… something has been concealed from me. Its magic is fevered, dusted in loss. Pain. Desire. It is out of place. Out of time. The conjurer’s magic has the same energy as yours, only… stronger.

“Stronger?” You shuddered at the thought. After a pause, you asked: “You don’t see the door?”

Door? What door?

“What of the letters?”

I—No, I see nothing. Describe it to me.

“There’s a serpent on the door.”

A serpent? Does he eat his tail?

“No, his head marks the start of the archway, but his mouth is facing the ground.”

Then it is incomplete. An incantation must be needed to complete the image. What of the lettering?

“These letters, they’re different than common tongue or Asgardian runes. They aren’t Jotun either. They look… I don’t know. They look so familiar.”

Reach for them.

“What?”

Familiar magic has a tendency to want to be understood, that is why it feels familiar. Touch it.

You stuck your hand up, jumping on your tippy-toes to try and grab the incorporeal words floating above your head. In defiance, they simply rose higher up, further out of reach.

Do not reach with your body, Child of the Sky. Reach with your magic.

With an exhale, you stuck both hands high up in the air, conjuring the bristle of energy that raced across your spine during spellcasting. Remembering through muscle and memory of what it was like to be in control of your magic. Of what it was like to revel in its deliciousness, its wildness, its link to Loki. A swirl of warmth took shelter in your belly, that warmth you’d grown to love before it was ripped from you and replaced by the cold of Odin’s incantation.

Suddenly, the words began to sink, lowering themselves like feathers, at first, then with the heft of an arrow, and finally, a stone.

With a crash, the words burst into fire and embers, each ember digging into your skin in a sensory overload that formed echoes in the mist.

A version of you,—the shade whose voice you heard in the abyss—older, magic glowing a different hue of blue, in strange clothing, stood by the door. You were witnessing the construction of the doorway. Every splinter, fibre, rock and sand particle materialised as though you were undoing the wroth of a sandstorm to make way for a rock giant. A woman, with firebrand hair and soft features, stood beside you, she looked drained, weary. She had magic too, it was the colour of blood. The colour of fire. It flickered in and out around her body, as if fighting to take over.

There was a young boy clasping onto the shade’s hand. Aloof in expression, a scaly growth the colour of white sands on his elbows, ankles, neck and cheeks. He was a beautiful child, hair as soft as down, curls that fluffed in a way you could never get yours too. Eyes of a pure and deep blue. Ocean surface during a thunderstorm blue.

He looked at the shade the same way little Sigrid had when she’d waved her plump, little hand goodbye before following after the hunters. It made you yearn for something so pure with a fierce heart.

“There, that should do it,” the shade said as the door materialised from thin air. “Now, we need a seal so no one who wanders can know of this place.”

“Is this absolutely necessary?” the woman asked, hugging her frame as if she were cold.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the only way I know for certain that what we’re doing now happens.” The shade’s voice felt dark, wizened in years, the same way Frigga spoke of grave matters. “This fortress is the only way he survived in my time. If we can’t change things, as the sorcerer said, then the least we can do is ensure things continue on their set path.”

“He’ll be trapped… for who knows how long? Centuries? Millennia? He’s just a boy.”

“He’s more than that,” the shade got down on one knee to look at the boy. From that angle, you could see the mangled, L shaped scars over each of her shoulder blades. They resembled the scars birds would suffer when their wings were ripped for medicines. “This is the only way he stays safe. I’ve already cemented the other enchantments. Time will not be felt here. He will not feel sadness or regret or the bitterness of solitude. He will sleep, as I once did, except… he will not be aware. And he will dream of only happy things. Then, when the time comes, I will jump. I’ll take him back with me.”

The firebrand woman showed doubt for the first time, “How do you know?”

“Because I’ve already done it.” The shade touched the other magic bearer’s shoulder, a comradery there. A closeness built from time and triumph, much like that kindred fire you shared with Sif. “Now, a phrase. A word. Anything to bind this lock to. Something unique.”

“Why don’t you choose it?” “Because I know myself. It has to be something I’d never choose so that she never knows it, and no mind reader can ever guess it should they stumble upon this place.”

“Vision,” the woman’s lips quivered with loss, but there was a bloom of hope in the tweak of her lips as your shade repeated the word.

The biting of the magic ended, and suddenly, you were alone again.

What happened? Child of the Sky? Are you there?

“I’m right here, Oracle,” you choked out, a tightness in your throat.

You were gone. One instant here, the next… nowhere. Somewhere. Between.

“I know how to open the door,” you took several steps back and then cleared your throat. With conviction and authority, you calmly said: “Vision.”

What did the magic reveal to you?

Your head was spinning from the fabrics of this mirror universe being so amateurishly tailored, so lacking in its design and purpose. The more you discovered, the more you began to doubt if this world was ancient; or if it was barely into its adolescence. “I do not quite understand it, yet. You said you were imprisoned here?”

Yes. I have been without body or memory for as long as I can remember.

The snake on the door began to slither till its mouth was at the top, and its tail was tucked firmly in its jaws. Then its eyes glowed the same colour as the child’s, thunderstorm blue. With a groan and a strike of something loud, the door peeled back. Beyond its threshold was a mutation of worlds, all collided in exquisite syzygy; aligned, misaligned, human, Asgardian, Jotun, and even the liquid blackness of space with pepper spots for stars.

“And how long ago was that?”

I—I do not… Centuries? Millennia? Aeons?

To busy your mind of doubt and fear as you stepped past the threshold and heard the door seal shut behind you, you toyed with the idea of understanding more of this world. “You said you could hear the beginning of your name… What was it?”

The whisper grew soft, warm. It sounded like ‘see’. Or was it the sea? Sea? Sea. Sea!

A garden shifted into the plane, then with a breath, a lake, then a cave, then a temple, then a waterfall, then a tower made of metal and glass. The world wasn’t fixed to a temporal setting, nor a specific location in space. It was like watching fire tell a story; brief, bright and constant.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

At the epicentre, laying on a stone tablet with a curtain of gold—that same curtain from the healing chamber—wrapped around like a fleece, was the child. Unaged. Beautiful. Asleep. He had no scaly growths like in the visions.

You took your steps with trepidation. Almost afraid to make a whisper even though the Oracle chanted ‘Sea!’ over and over. Its voice morphing into the very faint intones of a voice you knew all too well.

The world began to peel away the closer you got to the child. A presence was syphoning the magic, transmuting it for another purpose. A purpose that you now realised was meant to happen. Soon, a figure of pure light, with large wings of utmost magnificence, formed from the siphoned magics of the world. The Oracle was gaining form. The fleece turned grey and the boy began to stir. The magic of the sleep spell was broken.

You approached him slowly. Hands seeking out his aura. Then, in the most silver of voices you’d ever heard, he said, “You came. You said you’d come.” A smile of familiarity adorned his freckled laugh lines.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“Do you know me?”

He nodded.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“How?”

“From now.”

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“What’s your name?”

He seemed confused. Reeling back from the line you’d cast him for with that question. Bait in hook, he fished in the muddy waters that were your consciousness. You could feel his magic, abrasive as sand between toes, cool and wet, but also warm and sea-salt thick. He replied, “You haven’t given it to me yet. But you will return hers to her.”

He pointed to the Oracle’s figure, pulsating into a more corporeal form. The boy opened his hand and you knew instantly what he needed you to do before you thought to ask. A reflex. His magic extended to yours, carrying thought, and the very genesis of thought in its energy. You placed your face close so his hand could cover the cavity where your eye used to be.

Sugar. Berries picked from the wild thickets. A prick into padded thumb. Ooze of blood. A slight sting, then a scab and finally nothing, no marks, no evidence of the thorn in your thumb. He was projecting images of what he envisioned as he healed you. What the berries would taste like; apples. “You can open your eyes now. It was gold when we met. I kept it the same.”

Feeling no different than before, you opened both eyes for the first time since you stepped into Verdenspeil. With a tickle, the runes drawn on your hand and forehead sloughed off like skin cells. You could see the world without them. You could see through both eyes again. The shifting world shifted to a hexagon of mirrors. One, the sky shifting blue of your mother, the other, the ancient, world piercing gold of your father, your face held two eyes again.

“It’s… beautiful,” you looked down at the boy with your eyes. He showed teeth with his grin, pleased with himself. Pleased with your laugh of awe. “There was a boy in my village. Half as beautiful as you are. Half as joyful, with a smile and constellations marking his nose and cheeks too. He showed me kindness. His name was Baldrick. I shall call you Baldrick.”

“Now that you have spoken my name, remind her of who she is,” the boy said, glancing at the Oracle. “You know. You know but cannot believe.”

A gasp left your mouth. A mix of hope and disbelief. With the new eye, you could see the face of the Oracle beneath the light, beneath the enchantment that kept her hidden.

Sea! Sea! Sea! Sea!

“S-Sigrid.”

The Oracle hushed before exploding into a million, tiny pieces of energy. Out of the explosion was your mother, winged as the Valkyrie from legend, wearing the armour you had seen in the mirror prior to entering Verdenspeil.

“Y/N,” she said, lowering to the ground. Her hand cupped your face. You could barely feel her. “I have waited so long for this moment.”

“Mother,” you hugged her close.

A swirl of black formed once the mirrors of the world broke. Sigrid looked at you with panic.

“Listen, there isn’t time. Take the boy, “Sigrid removed a bracelet and cast it into the black-hole. A portal began to form, leading to what looked like a stone temple. “Take him and jump, it’ll lead you to the one with answers.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t you come with us? How are you alive?”

“I’m not alive dear, sweet child. But I can promise this isn’t the last you’ll see of me. We will meet again, soon. I promise. But you must go, the world has fulfilled its purpose. There is no reason for it to exist anymore. It has already began to unravel.”

The mist began to turn sour, choking like poison.

You coughed, breathing through your sleeve, “But, as the Oracle, you said I had to take you to the source.”

“You are the source. You and the boy. Your magics are entangled. The maze was a lie, one devised by you. This world isn’t ancient, it is young. A deception. I am the deceiver. My purpose was to ensure none but you found the boy and the portal to Mímir’s tomb. You enchanted this world so all would walk along the lighted paths until they reached a portal that would return them to a random space within the nine realms. You enchanted this world with your memories, so only you could follow them. Hear them.” Sigrid handed you a four-pronged dagger, “Take this you’ll need it.” She kissed your cheek, then her form started unravelling with the world too. Through transference, she gave you her armour, it was lighter than you'd expected, and it fit to cover your proportions through magical effect.

“Why can’t you come with us?” you reached your hand out to Baldrick. He took it with ease.

“I am not meant for the lands of the living,” she lamented. “Go! Before the world takes you with it.”

You rushed to the portal, but before you could step through you asked one last question: “What did you mean by ‘sins of the father’?”

“The war,” Sigrid fluttered her wings to hover in the green mist. “It was a lie. The Jotuns, they didn’t start it. We—the Himmel Kvinner—there’s a reason why only the women in our family inherited the gift. It’s not just power. It’s essence. A woman’s essence. Odin didn’t know we would develop magic from the artefact, but none of us were able to understand the complexity of her spell. Until you. You will discover the reason behind it all. You told me you did. I suspect it is because you are not fully mortal." Bitterly, she added as her body turned to mist as well, "You will bring the heavens to its knees. And your fate is that none shall remember it.”

One of Sigrid’s wings dissipated, she faltered in the air, then shouted: “Go!”

“I love you,” you whispered before hurtling through the undulating expanse of the portal.

“I know…” you heard her whisper back as Verdenspeil was destroyed.

#loki #loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson #tom hiddleston #himmeløyne #norse mythology #loki x you #loki x y/n #marvel imagine #loki imagine #tom hiddlestone imagine

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years ago

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Titanic Beginnings

Part of the Six for the Age of One AU

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Dick was excited when Bruce helped form the Justice League, babbling on about Bruce’s new friends and begging to meet them. Damian also wanted to meet the JL, but to appraise them to see if they were worthy of his father’s time and ensure they were capable of watching Batman’s back.

Not wanting the boys to get involved in the more punishing missions the JL faced, Bruce continually denied their requests.

That was ruined during a meeting a month later when Superman sheepishly admitted that his sons had also been badgering him and his wife to meet the other JL members and asked if he could bring the boys to the next meeting.

Green Arrow, Hawkgirl, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter appeared as resistant as Bruce. However, Wonder Woman adored children and agreed before any of them could speak up. She even offered to bring her young sister to keep them company. Aquaman agreed as well, mentioning that his apprentice could use the land experience. Flash and Black Canary were fine with it, which left the League at an even split.

At a nudge from Canary, Arrow broke the tie by reluctantly agreeing to bring his protégé.

Any ideas Batman had at keeping his boys out of it were dashed when Lantern turned to him and asked if he would also be bringing his kids. Superman sent him a look that clearly stated he would invite the boys if Batman didn’t so the Gotham vigilante nodded after giving Lantern a fierce glare.

Batman, Robin, and Serin were the first ones to the temporary headquarters the Justice League were using while Batman, Arrow, and Lantern finished the work on the space station they were retrofitting.

Before they arrived, Bruce had reminded Dick that, allies or not, only Superman knew the Bats’ identities and it was to remain that way for the time being. He had also negotiated with Damian. The boy wouldn’t challenge anyone to a fight and would abide by sparring rules with anyone who challenged him, no matter what abilities they may have. In return, the boy could assess whoever he wanted. He also allowed the boys to bring their dogs, hoping that would help keep Damian from going too far.

Titus (or Birdhound as Dick insisted despite Damian’s arguments that Great Danes weren’t hounds) had swapped out his red collar for a yellow one that matched Serin’s belt and had a tag with Serin’s logo on it. He also wore a grey ballistic vest with dark coral straps and handle. Haley (or Bitewing, a play on a character from Dick’s favorite story in Bruce’s extraterrestrial files) had a green collar with Robin’s logo hanging from it in place of her usual blue. Her vest was red with canary straps and handle.

Robin and Bitewing immediately went off to explore while Serin and Birdhound stayed at Batman’s side as he got things ready for the meeting. The boy kept an eye on the meeting room’s door, so he was the first one to notice the Supers’ arrival.

Superman was talking to his foster son when they walked in, his younger son flying over them with wide eyes. Superboy (aka nine-year-old Jonathan Kent) nearly looked like the spitting image of his father with his blue-black curls and neon blue eyes that didn’t quite look human, though his nose and lips were shaped a bit more like his mother. Meanwhile Hyper (aka fourteen-year-old Christopher Kent) only shared his foster father’s physique, his skin not having that same natural sun-kissed look while his hair was a dirty blond and his eyes were a bright amber that was just a little too close to yellow to be humanly possible. Superboy was wearing jeans, red high tops, and a Superman costume shirt that had a small red cape attached. Hyper was even more underdressed in just jeans, black tenner shoes, a yellow and blue flannel, and a black shirt. A black band wrapped around his wrist, appearing to all the world like a watch though, having helped create it, Batman knew it was a device to help Earth’s newest kryptonian keep control of the powers he’d developed on arrival.

Robin reappeared suddenly, dropping down onto Superman’s shoulders. “Heya, Kal!”

“Hello, Robin,” the man chuckled.

The twelve-year-old did a backbend so he could hold a hand out to the older boy. “Hi! You’re Hyper right? Kal’s told us about you.”

“Oh, yeah. Or K’Riss. Uh, K’Riss-El, but just K’Riss is fine,” Hyper said, accepting the hand.

“And I’m Jon!” Superboy said, dropping down in front of Batman and Serin. He smiled up at the man before holding his hand out to the other boy. “Dad’s told us about you too. Nice to meet you. I like your dog. Can I pet him?”

The eleven-year-old looked at the hand, then glanced over Superboy’s outfit. “No. What kind of attire is that for fighting crime?”

The half-kryptonian looked down at his clothes and shrugged. “I thought it looked cool.”

“It offers no protection.”

“They’re kryptonians,” Robin pointed out as he stood up on Superman’s shoulders so he could pet Bitewing, who was leaning out of a vent on the ceiling. “Their skin is better armor than the stuff we wear.”

“What if they were to lose their abilities? A shard of kryptonite would easily pass through that flimsy shirt.”

Superboy frowned and glanced back at his dad, which gave Batman time to give his son a reprimanding look and hold out his hand.

Serin scowled and palmed him a small lead case.

The Supers didn’t notice the actions, distracted by unsuccessfully trying to get Bitewing out of the vent.

“Neither of us really dressed for fighting crime,” Hyper said over Robin’s soft cackling, pulling away from the vent. “Jon’s too young for that stuff and I’m still getting my powers under control. Our superhero names are more honorary than anything.”

Clicking his tongue, Serin crossed his arms. “Heroes or not, we are in the base of a team of superheroes. You should be prepared to be attacked at any minute by any of the members’ various enemies.”

Superman aimed an incredulous look at Bruce, who shrugged.

His son wasn’t wrong.

“Hello there!” Wonder Woman called as she walked in with a teenage girl in red and black Amazonian armor.

The girl looked exactly like a fifteen-year-old version of her sister with her curly brown-black hair, warm olive skin, and dark green eyes. She gave a smile that looked a bit more forced than her sister’s, which quickly dropped away when she noticed Superman still near the vent with Robin clinging to his back. “Why is there a dog up there?”

“She likes it in there,” Batman grunted when Wonder Woman looked like she was going to try to help as well.

“She’s Robin’s,” Serin added, which did explain it if you knew Robin.

“Dogs shouldn’t be inside vents,” Wonder Woman said pointedly.

“And children shouldn’t nap in chandeliers,” Batman muttered, earning snorts from Serin and Superman. Accepting that the issue wasn’t going to be dropped, he gave Robin a look.

The boy pouted, then gave a sharp whistle. Instantly the pitbull sprung from the vent, hopping off superman’s chest, then Hyper’s shoulders, before landing on the ground as gracefully as her boy despite her missing limb. Robin dropped to the ground next to her and scratched her neck before grabbing the handle on her vest and going over to greet the Amazons.

Wonder Woman introduced her sister as Troia, who had recently left Themyscira so she could learn more about Man’s World at her sister’s side.

After respectfully greeting the sisters, Serin turned to Superboy. “See, the Amazons wear armor.”

“Well, they aren’t quite as durable as us,” Superboy shot back.

“They also don’t have a well-known weakness to a rock, yet they still understand the necessity to be prepared for battle.”

“So that one is definitely Spooky’s,” Lantern joked as he walked in with Hawkgirl.

Robin did a cartwheel into a backflip, landing in front of the two with Bitewing racing to stay by his side. He gave the heroes a wide grin, leaning cutely against the alert dog. “Hi, I’m Robin! It’s so nice to meet B’s friends! I like your wings, Ms. Hawkgirl! They’re very pretty!”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused.

Lantern gave Batman a smirk as he shook Robin’s hand. “You sure this one’s yours and not Supe’s or Wonder Woman’s?”

Robin’s grin turned sharp, then he pulled away.

A green flash lit the room and Lantern was left in just a black tanktop, Flash sweatpants, and mismatched fuzzy socks. The man yelped and looked down to find his ring missing from his hand. His gaze shot up, but Robin and Bitewing had disappeared with the light. “What the heck!?”

The boy’s laughter echoed around the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

“Okay, maybe he is yours.”

“Why is Lantern in his sleeping clothes?” Martian Manhunter asked as he and Aquaman came in with a young Atlantean.

“Robin stole his ring right off his hand,” Hawkgirl answered with poorly hidden laughter in her voice.

The test pilot scowled and held out his hand. His ring shot out from inside Batman’s cape. As it slid onto Lantern’s finger, returning his suit in a flicker of green, Robin and Bitewing poked their heads out of the fabric. He pointed at the smug boy. “You won’t do that again.”

“Unless I want to.”

“Kid -”

“Hey, my first idea was to come up and throat-punch you so be glad I just stole your ring,” he snickered, slipping back into the shadows. “Can’t talk bad about my family if you can’t breathe.”

“It seems the Bat’s family are as entertaining as he is,” Aquaman joked. He set his hand on the young Atlantean’s shoulder. “Speaking of family, this is my mother’s ward and my apprentice, Aqualad. Lad, this is the Justice League and their young companions.”

The boy appeared to be around fifteen with alabaster skin that was edging towards grey. His eyes were plum-colored and his hair was long and pitch black. With teeth slightly sharper than a human’s, he smiled and gave a small bow. “A pleasure. You may call me Garth.”

Baring the Bats, the group all greeted Aqualad cheerfully. Batman grunted and nodded with Serin copying his actions while Robin’s hand poked out of the cape to wave.

Before anyone could introduce themselves to the newcomers, Arrow and Canary entered with a grumpy thirteen-year-old.

Speedy had fair skin and pale red hair, alongside eyes hidden behind a domino mask like the ones Robin and Serin wore. Batman knew from his day-life that Speedy’s backstory wasn’t too far off from Robin’s. He’d gotten Oliver Queen’s attention during an archery contest so when the boy’s adopted father died, Oliver took him in.

“Are we the last ones here?” Canary asked.

“We’re still waiting on Flash,” Wonder Woman answered.

“As per usual,” Hawkgirl joked.

“Well, in the meantime,” Arrow set a hand on Speedy’s shoulder, “this is Speedy.”

“‘Sup,” he said, giving a sarcastic salute.

Introductions went around. Robin took the distraction as his chance to slip out and greet Aqualad and Speedy properly. As the time for the meeting grew closer, the group got the kids settled in a room near the meeting room. Just as they were about to leave for the meeting, a steak of red shot into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Flash said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’re actually on time,” Superman said. “Though you’ll have to wait to meet the kids until after the meeting.”

“About that…”

A second streak came into the room, which turned out to be a red-headed teenager. The boy was tan and freckled. When he pulled up his goggles to smile at the group, his eyes proved to be a grassy green. “Hi, there! I’m Kid Flash!”

The group turned to Flash, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “My nephew became a speedster last week. I’m training him how to use his powers.”

“Then I’m going to be his sidekick!”

Batman held back a snort at the imploring expression Flash gave him and Superman. The kryptonian patted the speedster on the back and led him out of the room with the others following.

Behave, Batman said with a grunt, giving his boys the kind of glare that would have the JL flinching back and the criminals of Gotham fleeing.

Robin batted his eyes innocently and Serin gave a half-hearted nod.

When the meeting was through, the adults returned to find the room worse for wear.

Robin and Kid Flash were sitting cross-legged on a battered table (one of the few remaining pieces of furniture) with Bitewing draped over their laps. They were both fidgeting with the dog’s ears and tail as they happily talked about a fight the Bats had recently had with Penguin.

Serin and Troia were standing off to the side near some cracked flooring, talking about the Amazonian knife she was showing him. Superboy was sitting on the floor next to them, though he appeared more focused on the pets he was giving Birdhound.

The last three boys were standing next to a hole in the wall. The older two were inspecting the hole with guilty frowns while a snickering Speedy patted Hyper on the back, looking more relaxed despite the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened in here?” Arrow asked, all the adults except Superman and Batman looking shocked at the destruction.

“Sparring competition,” Superman answered, proving he’d kept an ear on the kids throughout the meeting.

“We locked a bunch of superpowered and vigilante children in a room together. I’m just pleased the room’s still standing,” Batman added.

Robin and Kid Flash laughed while Speedy bit down his own laughter at a look from Arrow.

Lantern slapped the archer on the back. “Lighten up. As much as I hate to admit it, Spooky’s got a point. We should have known the kids would screw around and set them up somewhere a little less fragile. So, who won?”

“Troia, technically, since Robin was disqualified after the tournament was over,” Kid Flash said.

Batman turned to Robin, who gave a wide grin. “I don’t want to know.”

“I would have won had I had my full arsenal,” Serin said petulantly.

“He was eliminated because Superboy managed to bear hug him right at the start of their go and he couldn’t squirm free before the time ended,” Robin explained.

“You utilized kryptonite in your spar with a kryptonian so I do not see why I couldn’t!”

Superman gave Batman a look and the vigilante sighed, holding out his hand.

Robin skipped forward and dropped a lead case into his palm. “For the record, I brought blue kryptonite.”

“Was that why you were disqualified?”

“No.”

I will be having a conversation with both of you when we get home, he said with a grunt and put the case in his belt.

“And how did you fare?” Aquaman asked his apprentice, coming over to set his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“I won my match against Kid Flash, but Robin proved too formidable an opponent.”

“I lost first round to Troia,” Speedy said before Arrow could ask as he and Canary came up to the teen.

“His close combat abilities could use some work, but his skills with a bow are comparable to some of our best archers,” Troia argued. “Had our arena been larger, the fight would have been much closer.”

“Yeah, Arrow’s not too good at close range either,” Canary said, earning a huff from her boyfriend. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

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If you're wondering why I put Donna in armor instead of one of the suits she wears in the comics, I ask you this: Why the flip would she want to wear some spandex suit when she could wear sick Amazonian armor? This applies to Cassie too.

And yes, Dick's treatment of Hal is a reference to a certain movie and a certain TikToker. Thanks for asking.

#batman #dick grayson #robin #damian wayne #teen titans #Robins are the Same Age AU #fanfiction #64ao1

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