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otakubimbo · 2 months ago

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Sunday Dinner

Logan Howlett (Worse Logan) x AFAB Mutant Reader !

Slight Angst. SLOW Burn. Minors DNI!

You were preparing for your regular Sunday dinner when you get a few unexpected guests at your doorstep.

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Music flowed through your apartment as you busied yourself with making your Sunday dinner. A simple menu, pot roast, smashed potatoes, broccolini, and homemade gravy to go on top of everything. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to make a dessert, and you knew Wade was bound to complain about it, rolling your eyes preemptively at the future tantrum. Right as you were finishing up on the gravy, leaving it to simmer there was a knock at your door.

You excitedly went to open the door, you actually loved Sunday dinners, with a smile on your face you opened your door to see Al, Peter, Wade, …... and Logan.

“You don’t mind that I invited my lil honey badger. Ya know he's basically part of the family now anyway.” Wade grins making his way into your apartment.

“I brought pie,” Peter says excitedly handing it to you as he also makes his way inside.

“that’s actually great because I didn’t have any time to make dessert.” You place the pie on the counter, waiting for the inevitable tantrum from Wade. It didn’t take more than a second for him to start his spiel about \how you must not love him anymore since you had forgotten about his favorite part Sunday dinner. “Oh, shut the hell up,” You comment as you begin to put everything in the serving dishes., “I got caught up at the studio, there's a gallery showing coming up soon and I was asked to submit some pieces. You can go one Sunday without a homemade dessert.”

Even with your very valid excuse, Wade acts as if you’ve shot him multiple times.

“Your dumb ass lucky she still invites you over. Don’t worry about that jackass. But if you ever need some inspiration, you know where to find me. “Al tells you, knowing that she’s definitely talking about doing drugs. You giggle softly and thank her.

“Gallery?” Logan surprisingly asks and you’re taken aback, almost forgetting that he was here.

“Ah yes, our lil matter-of-fact is a painter. She gotta pay the bills somehow, even though I've been told her that with a body like that she can get a lot more money elsewhere” Wade interjects before you get to respond, throwing his arm over your shoulder which you push off with a scowl.

“And I’m a freelance artist, I have some of my paintings around the house.” You say trying to sound confident in your creations, you don’t know why he's making you feel shy, you had so much pride in your art. There was a piece of you in every painting you did, a page from the story of your life. Logan didn’t move from his seat, but his eyes wandered around the room, taking in the paintings that graced your walls, some of your more happy-inspired pieces. But there was one that particularly caught his eye, a painting truly straight from your own heart. His gaze was locked on that one for longer than you would have liked, he almost looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t. Luckily for you, there was another knock on your door.

“Anyways that’s probably Cat, she said she was going to try to make it, she had deadlines for her column that she needed to finish.” You wipe your hands on the frilly apron that you’re wearing, Logan smirks at your appearance, that apron didn’t match you at all, but it was cute.

As you open the door with a bright smile on your face to greet your friend, you are face to face with not your friend at all. It was the face of your ex-boyfriend, the one who cheated on you and whom you haven’t contacted since you found out.

“I knew you would be home. I need to talk to you.” Caleb looks at you, then past you to the guests in your apartment then back to look at you.

“The offer to cut his dick off still stands,” Wade says from his position at the dinner table, making you sigh, pushing Caleb out of your doorway and shutting the door behind you.

“What are you doing here Caleb?” You question as your brow furrows, hands balled to your sides.

“We need to talk, and you won’t answer my calls or texts.” He huffs as if he should be the one who’s annoyed by this circumstance.

“There’s nothing to talk about. We are over, that’s it” You fold your arms over your chest in an attempt to protect yourself somehow.

“Oh, you can’t be serious,” He rubs his face in frustration, “You know how difficult it is being with you, and it just took a toll on me for a minute and I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” You ask, attempting to keep your voice level, not trying to garner any of the attention from your guests inside, “You slept with Liz, how the hell is that a mistake???”

“You don’t understand.”

“There is nothing to understand, you need to leave.”

He groans again at your difficulty to speak to him about this, “Just hear me out for fucking once, I was under a lot of stress and then having to deal with your stuff on top of that. It’s a lot, you’re a lot. I just needed a little stress relief; you have to be able to understand that.” So this was your fault? You were the reason he cheated on you because you were so difficult to be with, but then why was he here? For your forgiveness? To get back with you? Fuck, you didn’t even care because it felt like you were about to break. You didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him.

“Leave, Caleb.”

“Ugh you’re not listening to me; this is one of the problems right here.”

Before you can tell him to go again, you feel the warmth of a chest on your back and a hand making you take a step back into your apartment.

“I think you’re not listening to her bub; she told you to leave” Logan basically growls at your ex. A little shaky you look up at Logan, his jaw is set tight, and he looks right pissed, your gaze then falls back onto Caleb who takes a scared step back.

Caleb looks between the two of you, and scoffs laughing bitterly, “Looks like you moved on quickly” he turns his attention to Logan, “Don’t waste your time with her, she’s dangerous and damaged goods, no fixing that one.” His last comment before Logan slams the door in his face, going back to his spot at the table.

It takes a moment to process all that just happened, but you shake yourself out of it quickly, “Anyways, let's go ahead and eat I put too much work into this to get cold.” You put on your fakest smile as you sit down and start serving yourself. It’s clear someone wants to say something.

“So that offer about his dick.”

“Shut it Wade” Logan growls as he follows your lead, reading the room surprisingly well, “You got anything good to drink?”

“Uhm yeah,” you say as you get up, wiping your hands on your apron again before taking it off, this made Logan notice the tattoo you had on the back of your shoulder. The X-Men symbol, so you really did use to be one, interesting. You smiled as you pulled out a bottle from your alcohol fridge, you preferred your drinks chilled.

“Okay so this is a rum, but it was aged in a whiskey barrel, I think you’ll really like it.” You say as you pour him a glass, he raises an eyebrow at you.

“We will see,” Logan responded, and you just sat back with a confident smirk as he took a sip. He hums after the first taste, “Not bad” he raises the glasses towards you.

“Told you, “You smile for real this time and dinner commences.

Eventually, everyone leaves and now it’s just you and your thoughts. You sigh as you clean up your place, wash and put away dishes and Caleb’s words stay on your mind. The way he blamed you for his actions and there was a part of you that actually thought the same. After finishing cleaning, you grab your emergency pack of smoke and make your way outside. You didn’t smoke often, you tried not to at the very least, even if you were a mutant that had some regenerative powers, they weren’t perfect, and smoking was still terrible for you.

As you light your cigarette, stepping outside your apartment building you spot Logan, leaning on the rail smoking a cigar.

His eyes catch yours, as you take your first drag, “You smoke?”

“Occasionally, what are you doing out here?” You ask as you stand across from him.

“Too much Wade.” Which makes you snort before taking another drag, “And you?”

“Too much thinking,” you say casually, he just hums in understanding. The two of you stand in silence, a sense of ease coming over you as you finish up your cigarette. You take your last inhale, throwing the butt to the ground and stepping on it before going to head back inside. Before you can open the door, Logan grabs your attention.

“He’s wrong you know,” Logan states nonchalantly.

“What?”

“He’s wrong about you, you don’t seem like damaged goods. I would know. Everyone has their demons.”

You don’t know whether it was the cigarette or his words making you feel lightheaded, but your face softens, and you give him a small smile, “no, he is right but that’s okay, good night, Logan”

As you go to walk inside Logan grabs your arm to stop you, he drops it almost in an instant as he feels a strange scar on your wrist. Your gaze tells him you don’t want him to ask but the feeling of the scar has a question on the tip of his tongue. But he doesn’t, he doesn’t ask, and leaving him behind with questions.

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syrupfog · 11 months ago

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AU where Sanji never actually left Germa, and Judge made him a test subject early on, successfully getting rid of his empathy after years of torture.

But like, he has those years of bullying from his brothers first, and his empathy’s gone but his anger’s still there. Also with no Zeff, he fights with his fists and doesn’t treat women Like That. Because Zeff’s the one who instilled in him to never hit a woman (and made it weird but that’s not the point).

He’s out on some mission in the Grand Line when he runs into the Straw Hats and he sees Zoro’s green hair and associates it with Yonji and he just haaaates him on sight.

The fight is super evenly matched and Zoro manages to knock him out eventually but he’s like what’s the guy’s DEAL. Wtf is his problem.

Maybe Law’s with them when it goes down and he recognizes that costume and fanboys…

Oh actually yeah— Law’s with them! And after Zoro knocks him out, Law goes into Creepy Surgeon Mode and is like for the love of god please let me get my fingers in that chest cavity

And everyone else (bar Robin ofc) is like Σ（ﾟдﾟlll）

But Law gets a room going and finds all sort of odd Germa technology literally implanted in him and starts pulling it out and messing with it and suddenly Sanji wakes UP and he’s— he’s scared. And overwhelmed. He’s in real time having to reckon with years of torturing people.

And Law’s like oh the emotional part of this is not in my pay grade this is not my job anymore and dips.

So Sanji’s there in the Sunny’s infirmary like “I’m a monster I need to be put down oh my god” and Luffy shows up like HEY you’re cool as hell join my crew.

Zoro is not a fan of this option and also it turns out neither is Sanji BUT sanji has nowhere to go so he makes a deal to sail with them until the next habitable island. So Zoro watches him like a hawk bc he’s like “you’re definitely faking this and are gonna turn evil and try to kill people again right”

But instead he just keeps finding Sanji being really pathetic and sad and looking longingly at the kitchen (Robin doubles as the cook and her food is damn near inedible but that’s just the life of a pirate innit)

Late one night Zoro comes off watch and he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and he thinks OH he’s going to try to POISON US so he sneaks in after him and confronts him, swords and all. And Sanji, who knows what an awful person he’s been and knows he deserves death, just starts crying and is like “yeah you can kill me just let me cook one thing once I just want to remember what it feels like”

So Zoro lets him cook, and is like yeah I’m killing you after this, and Sanji spends a long time sniffling as he re-familiarizes himself with pots and pans and spices and knives and ends up making something garlic-y and delicious that smells strong enough to wake up the crew, and everyone traipses in enraptured by the smell. So Sanji serves them and Zoro tries it first because if it’s poisoned he’s not letting EVERYONE go down. But it’s not poisoned and it’s really good, and anyway Zoro can’t kill him now in front of everyone.

But three nights later the same thing happens— he sees Sanji sneaking into the kitchen and follows him and Sanji says “I know you should’ve killed me last time but you couldn’t, I get that, but I’m dangerous. So let me cook just one more time and then you can kill me.”

And it doesn’t happen of course. Everyone comes in and everyone eats and Zoro watches Sanji recover a little of himself.

And so it goes. At first every few nights and then every other night, and then every single night.

And whenever Zoro comes in, Sanji says, I know I deserve to die but let me cook just one more thing.

And at some point Zoro stops thinking about killing Sanji. He’s a part of the crew now. He’s proving himself, and anyway Zoro can beat him and hold him down and Law can reverse whatever it is again if needs be.

So it’s just a thing they do. Zoro lightly threatens him and Sanji begs for his life and they move on. It’s routine but it doesn’t actually MEAN anything anymore.

That is, until one really bad night where Sanji doesn’t show up in the kitchen like he always does, and Zoro goes looking and finally finds him deep in the steerage, and Sanji says, “I can’t keep living like this, please just kill me. I can’t keep living knowing I’m going to die the next day.”

And Zoro’s like ???? You’re not gonna die the next day wtf

And Sanji says, please, just get it over with.

Zoro realizes that Sanji has continued all this time assuming Zoro really is coming to kill him every night

But it’s been MONTHS at this point. Surely he wouldn’t still think—

But Sanji’s wracked with more than a decade’s worth of guilt, is so sure he deserves the worst the world possibly has to offer.

Too bad Zoro’s a little in love with him at this point. And says anyone who wants to kill Sanji will have to go through Zoro first.

Which Sanji DOESNT UNDERSTAND and he doesn’t understand the kiss Zoro follows it up with, but he returns it. Greedily.

Because as much as he knows he deserves death, he also relishes every moment of life, every chance to feel the emotions he wasn’t allowed. And Zoro goes from jailer to protector in his mind. Slowly. Hesitantly.

He spends years working through the trauma, decades really, but the simplicity with which Zoro sees the world helps. Zoro doesn’t blame him. Zoro loves him. Sanji doesn’t know much but he knows he’ll defend this ship that saved him with his life.

And he knows Zoro wouldn’t let Sanji defend HIM with his life, because Zoro views his life as precious and important.

Which is something Sanji is still learning.

He’ll get there.

#zosan #it’s always a toss up what fics to write vs what to just throw out into the void like this #uhhhhh I need a tag for this #would this go in the Zosan fanfic tag I dunno if that’s just for finished fic #my writing #I guess that works #anyway cross posted from twitter since I have like 3 followers lmao #and tbh it’s been a week I’m still thinking about this #(I’m thinking about writing omegaverse Zosan more tho)#(and ptsd law who’s scared of luffy)#(too little time in the world)

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cyverrieee · 1 year ago

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ＣＹＶＥＲＦＩＬＥＳ

𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝙰𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚕

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷��₊˚૮꒰˵•ᵜ•˵꒱ა‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

➳ 01 : I love the little mermaid growing up so

for real, it gave me some ideas from @thecoolsquirrel 's post (hehe) ANYWAYS I love Azul sm. I altered the plot to match Azul's backstory or smth-

➳ 02 : Contains random merpeople names😝

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚૮꒰˵•ᵜ•˵꒱ა‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐭

— ... —

Growing up, Azul never had friends before middle school. He was seen as the odd one out because of his chubby stature and eight legs. He would always stay in his pot because he's scared. Scared that someone would talk bad about him, that is—before he met the two leech twins. He had fun with them, standing up for Azul to stop his bullies

At that time, he was studying everything he can get from the school library. He won't lie; he's interested in land dwellers but where he lives. They despise them, they ruin their homes and take stuff from the reefs! Azul's mother even hated them more. She always told Azul to never go to the surface because "who knows what danger lies in land", yes it's true. He doesn't know anything about the land as much but he's curious enough for a peep! He started collecting the stuff the land dwellers drop in sea.

“Haaa? What's this?”

Floyd talked, Jade looking at the different items that Azul hoarded in his secret collection room. Floyd holds a danglehopper (a fork), doing random stuff to see it's purpose.

“Oh well.. I'm not sure! But the white Bird from the surface told me it's something land dwellers use to comb their hair”

Azul explained like the nerd he was, adjusting his glasses in the process. Jade looks at his brother who was combing his hair with the "danglehopper". The three metal bristles smoothly brush through Floyd's sleek teal locks. He was in awe by it, Jade only laughs in amusement

“Hey 'zul! Mind if I keep it?”

Floyd yelled, Azul sighed playfully with a pout

“I knew you were gonna say that. But sure.. ”

Azul murmured, Floyd flicks his eel tail with glee. Jade looks around and finds a box full of silver and gold circular objects. The calmer leech twin grabs one from the box. It shimmered a golden hue— Jade clicked a small button on the front of the weird circular object. The top flung open showing a long hand and a small hand. Azul saw Jade's interest towards the circular metal objects

“I haven't named those things yet. The white Bird also told me that land dwellers use these to tell time"

He muttered, Floyd let out a small "ahhh" at the explanation. Jade nodded and asked in interest.

“Mind if i take something like this?”

Azul agreed, Jade thanked Azul for letting him have one of these circular shiny objects. Dawn hit— and the twins returned back home with Azul, Azul has always hid his secret interest of Land Dweller items from his parents; knoeing them, they won't be happy if they knew this.

The silver haired octopus sat with his family for dinner. Azul's mother was talking with his father, leaving Azul all silent, but he prefered that since he was busy thinking of a way to get some more information in Land Dwellers. Him and his parents did have some small talks before and after dinner, but after that– Azul just goes to his room to think of ways to learn about humans. Even til now he was interested in them..

He wont lie, he kind of dreams for a partner in his life. Its a dream— he knows that, knowing him being an octopus that no one wants. He just didn't have the time to believe in that fairy tale of his. Well before he met such a charming young royal who fell of their ship..

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚૮꒰˵•ᵜ•˵꒱ა‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

➥ 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲'𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬! 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧. 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 :(

! ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴛᴀʏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜʏ! ᴅʀɪɴᴋ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴀᴛ ғᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴄᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢʟʏ !

ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ sᴇᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ!

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ!

Chapter 2 ->

#vanni talks #akix's lil stars #cyber's wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst au #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland

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toska-writes · 2 years ago

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“Shiny”

Summary: After a few complains from worried troopers your master ordered armor for the 2 of you. And now some boy were excited to help you customize!

Paring: Cody+212th x Reader (guess what?!? Plaaaaaaaaatonic!!! WOO)

Warning: None! Just teeth rotting fluff!

Word Count: 1375

Read here on ao3! (✩)

You wouldn’t say your reckless on the battlefield, nor was your master Obi-Wan Kenobi. It just seemed when it came down to it all you were shot at a lot.

Like all the time.

So after a few bullets caught in the ribs or the arms here and there worried some troopers of the well being of their beloved Commander and General.

*Cough cough Cody cough*

Your comm buzzed as you made your way to the training rooms to meet your master, it was odd though because you were supposed to meet with Obi-wan later for your scheduled training.

“Hello master. Cody” You waved to them both already eyeing the boxes that layer by their feet. “What’s this? I though training wasn’t until 01600.” You stopped in front of the two.

Obi-wan let out a laugh and then explained. “We finally got our shipment in, apparently the GAR thought it be a good idea for some armor for the two of us Y/N” He with the help of Cody opened the two packages. “Even if it’s minimal it’s still better then none.”

“You can say that again.” Cody said under his breath.

“Aww Cod’ika gets nervous when we’re shot at.” You joked bumping arms with him.

Obi-wan passed you a breast plate with shoulder coverage as well, some arm and hand braces were included. He himself also had a set similar.

Your mouth hung open as you ran a hand over the white plaster. All the possibilities running through your head.

The awe clearly showed on your face and for the second time your master laughed. “Please go enjoy decorating it Y/N it’s lovely to see you this happy.” Obi-wan placed a hand on your shoulder

You bowed slightly trying not to drop everything you had in your hands and smiled at Cody hoping he would follow you.

“Everyone is quite excited to help with the painting.” Cody strolled next to you. “It’ll be good to touch up our own armor as well.”

You laughed as you started to run a little faster down the hall, making Cody try to keep up with you.

“Slow down there Shiny before you drop something.”

You turned to look at him. “Oh no don’t you start that-“

Cody’s cheerful laugh cut through your sentence. “Sorry sir buts it’s the perfect opportunity.”

You rolled your eyes as the pair of you turned down one more corridor and were finally met with the doors to the 212th barracks.

“Hey commander.” You herd Boil as he started to lay some tarps around the floor of the conman room.

You saw Trapper watching from a perch on one of the couches “We don’t want anything getting ruined now do we.”

Boil and Crys joined the commotion in the room arguing quite loudly as they fought over what seemed to be a can of paint.

“No no the shades all wrong! It’s brighter than that.”

“Are you color blind or something Vod? Maybe got hit one too many times?”

You laughed at the too rolling your eyes simultaneously with Cody.

You finally dropped all the fresh armor on the trap after Waxer finally got it nice and smooth.

Wooley, Longshot, and Gearshift all stumbled into the room, arms filled with piles of armor. Some were definitely in better shape than others.

You flashed them an excited smile with everyone joining you around the pot of orange paint that was so special to the entire battalion.

Peel finally joined the group with extra colors such as red, white, and black.

“Now let’s get started.” Cody clapped and everyone dug through the pile to find their own individual armor.

You grabbed the center piece and started at it for a moment. Carefully you reached for a paintbrush, chatter from your brothers around the room filled your ears.

“You know cyare if you wanted I could help you make your own sun design and then we could match.” Cody suggest grabbing a paint brush of his own.

“I love that idea Kotes!” You smiled back finally getting brave enough to dip your brush into the orange paint.

Waxed and Boil chimed in. “Could we do a form arm brace if the commanders getting the chest plate?”

“Of course, and if anyone else wants to do the other feel free.” You added. The brush touched down on the white, you mapped out half a circle at the cut off that would be right about your belly button.

One more stroke, then another. “Kriff.” You swore quickly, a rouge line got away from you.

“Woah there shiny need some help.” Waxer leaned over your shoulder.

“Really everyone’s doing that now?” You asked in question of the nickname.

“Why wouldn’t we?” Waxer questioned again now bending down, grabbing your paint brush to assist you.

You watched him for a moment before he went back to work on the other part of the set with Boil again.

About a quarter inch above the half circle you made another think line, making a ring.

Cody joined now in the painting of the rays that matched his own sunshine. At one point even Wooley joined trying to speed up the process.

You looked up to see that Waxer and Boil now finished their respective brace, it was in the geometric points that adorned the patterns of their own armor.

The other brace was being occupied by Gearshift who was painting a small ring of yellow that would circle the area where you could put your comm.

The armor was coming together now, every seemed to be just finished up their touch-ups when you announced ‘done’ very proudly.

“Wow it’s looking good commander.” Trapper smiled.

“Yea not bad for your first time Shiny.” Crys laughed with his brother.

“Now how longs that gonna last? Hmm?” You questioned leaning back into Cody as the armor had to dry.

“At least until the first campaign you wear it in.” Cody explain. “Until then your the teams new Shiny.”

The woosh of mechanical doors made everyone freeze. “Huh it seems the council meeting made me miss all the fun.” Obi-wan came to sit down beside you a Cody, resting a hand on the other man’s thigh.

Chatter filled the air once again as the group waited for the paint to finish drying on all of them.

After some time passed your master said. “Well now Y/N I hope you plan on trying it on for us.”

You couldn’t agree more, just up from your spot of the floor you rushed to the newly dried armor and slipped the first piece over your head. The clasp in the front was definitely easier than the ones in the back, thankfully Longshot was there to click them in for you.

The left shoulder covering was designed with the Jedi Order symbol in red matching the one your master also had. The other was the same stark white that you started with.

You slipped on the arm and fore arm piece each side coming together nicely.

Some cheers went up around the room as you spun round for them all to see.

“Now where’s the lightsaber holder on that one?” Cody quipped.

Obi-wan leaned into him to try and suppress his laughter.

The armor felt right, how you fought so many battles before without it was insane.

“Oh one more thing.” You added before you forgot, unhooking the front chest piece you laid it in the middle of the room. “Everyone needs to sign it.” You pointed to the empty backside still without marking.

Obi-wan and Cody were the first the sign. The Boil, followed by Waxer in what could be argued as an obnoxiously large font.

Soon everyone finished there signature, some neater than others but it was the different personality’s they all had that really blew you away. No it was just to get the other troopers that weren’t here to sign it as well.

“It looks pretty good for a shiny.” Cody came up to you as you clicked the armor back into place, he did the same with his own.

The two of you stood side by side, the painted suns never seemed brighter

#star wars clone wars #clone wars #the clone boys #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #codywan #commander cody #cody x reader #212th legion #212th battalion #toska-writes #reader insert

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nikethestatue · 1 year ago

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A Match Baked In Heaven

Part 3 Here

Part IV

Thickfreakness

“Who is the bloke with the tats?”

Pots and pans were banging together in the background. Feyre was ‘cooking’. Every Sunday they had lunch at one of their homes–dad’s Soho mansion, Nesta’s Notting Hill flat, Elain’s Russell Square Georgian manor, or Feyre’s bohemian Camden loft.

“Okay, I want to make salmon en croute,” Feyre announced boldly and Elain’s heart fell at the words.

Her younger sister wasn’t what one would call a ‘cook’. And she knew that about herself. Yet it never stopped her from experimenting–wildly–in the kitchen.

“Fey, that might be somewhat ambitious,” Elain cautioned her.

“Why? How hard can it be?”

“Perhaps it’s not difficult, but it is somewhat time consuming and requires a decent amount of prep. Why don’t you go with something easier, like Shepherd's Pie? Or a nice fish pie?”

“Nooo, it’s so boring,” Feyre moaned loudly. Elain chose not to remind her that salmon en croute and fish pie were basically the same thing in essence.

“Okay, well, if you want to venture the en croute route, then good luck!”

“But what if I don’t do it right and it all falls apart?” Feyre whined.

“That’s why you should do something simpler. And no, Fey, I am not going to cook Sunday lunch in case you fail,” Elain warned.

“Ugh, Ela-aaaii–nnn,”

“No. Make fish pie. That’s it.”

“Don’t try to weasel out of the question! Who is the guy with the tats holding Piggy?”

“It’s Piglet. Not Piggy.”

“And?”

“He is a client,” Elain said calmly.

“What kind of client?!” Feyre pressed excitedly. “You usually don’t have clients with tattoos! And that arm!” she gushed. “What does he do? Tell me! Come on! Is he hot? He is hot, isn’t he? An arm like that is attached to a hot man. And Piggy sleeping like that on him. Aww. Aww. Aww. Piggy never likes anyone–I don’t even think he likes me! I pet him and he looks like he is suffering. But the sexy arm bloke–Piggy is sleeping on that arm like a baby. Do you know the story about the scars? I bet it’s something incredible! Like he was saving a baby from a burning house. Or maybe he flipped a car over to pull a granny out of a burning vehicle,”

“You seriously need to calm down,” Elain interrupted her. “I am growing concerned for you. And for my sanity.”

“I demand you tell me!”

“He is an athlete,” Elain relented just a bit.

“I knew it! A footballer? A rugby player? What is he?”

“A sumo wrestler,” Elain teased, only to throw her sister into a complete tizzy.

“I hate you! Can you set me up with him?”

“No,” Elain said immediately.

“Why not? What’s wrong with me?” Feyre demanded.

“You aren’t his type,” Elain cut her off. This conversation irritated her. She didn’t want to think of her sister and Azriel Night. Just no. Azriel was a headache, but he was her headache.

“What is he looking for? What is he like?”

Elain exhaled, thinking about the question.

“He…well, he is the most annoying and impossible man I’ve ever encountered. He is by far my worst client, and I’ve dealt with some doozies,” she complained loudly and passionately. “He is so rude and, and…he is just no good.”

“No good?” Feyre repeated. “That’s what you managed to come up with? No good?”

“He is no good. He is not articulate. I asked him what woman appeals to him and he says ‘pretty’. He isn’t taking this seriously at all. He is probably wasting my time, but I have no choice but to work with him. He signed the contract–which I had hoped he wouldn't. And now I am stuck with him.

“Anyway. I am going to find him the best possible match–someone he wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ to and then he’ll be out of my hair! Forever. And he also made comments about my body!”

“What kind of comments?”

“Said I had nice breasts.”

“Oh, that’s the worst! When a man tells you that you are beautiful and have a nice rack,” Feyre fake-sympathised with Elain. “That is tough.”

“Gah. Quiet. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

There was more clatter in the background and finally, after a string of curses, Feyre said,

“You are certain you want to find him the best match possible?”

“Of course!” Elain cried. “I take pride in my work.”

“Oh I know. Only I’ve never heard you talk about any client at length and neither did you ever get so passionate about how much you hate them.”

“It’s because I do hate him!” Elain insisted, before relenting and correcting herself. “Well, I don’t hate him. Why would I hate him? I am just exasperated with him. His whole persona is…just ugh,”

“Is he a yob?”

“No. Nothing like that,” Elain disagreed. “He isn’t walking around in a tracksuit with a shaved head. He dresses nicely. He is definitely not…”

“What?”

“Well, he thinks that I am posh,”

“You are posh!” Feyre laughed. “We are pretty darn posh, Elain. Daddy is a Knight, remember?” Elain sighed and murmured, “how can we forget?”

“And then the Duke of Velaris,”

“We are not discussing that.”

“Well, then you are posh to him, especially if he is a boy from the East End. And I reckon he isn’t posh to you?”

“He is from the East End. There are traces of Cockney in his speech. And it doesn’t matter…I don’t care about any of that. Professionally speaking, I don’t make distinctions based on someone’s origins or class.”

“Nevertheless, he doesn’t sound like your normal client,” Feyre said.

“He isn’t. He is difficult and everything with him is a challenge.”

“Well have you considered that maybe in the end, the reward will be great?”

Elain chuckled and said, “I am not sure what constitutes ‘great reward’ in this situation. Pawning him off to some poor unsuspecting woman who doesn’t know what she is getting herself into?”

“The women you work with usually can handle a complicated man,” Feyre reminded her. “They are man eaters.”

Elain sighed.

“Give my love to Piggy,” Feyre chirped. “I’ll see you on Sunday!”

“Good luck with en croute. And it’s Piglet. You know, you are like Az-,” she stopped abruptly, catching herself right before she blurted out a client’s name.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. You are just like my new impossible client. He refuses to call Piglet by his name!”

Feyre laughed at that. “What does he call him?”

“Pinky. It’s not Piggy or Pinky. It’s Piglet!”

“I actually like Pinky! I think it’s a good alternative.”

“Ugh, maybe I will set you two up. You fit right up.”

“Ooohh yeah! I am ready when you are.”

Elain snorted at her ludicrous sister and threw “bye, you nincompoop!”

“There is an old lady dying somewhere inside of you!” Feyre yelled back.

Elain leaned back in her armchair. It’s been a long night. A long week.

Feyre was right. Elain was an old lady. It was Thursday night and she wasn’t at the pub or a bar. She wasn’t hanging out with her girlfriends. She was alone, in her office.

She ran her finger over the phone’s screen, bringing it to life. Clicked on the Photos. And clicked on the one that she kept staring at for the past two days. Azriel Night, his expression softer than usual, looking down at Piglet in his arms.

She had cropped the top of it obviously, before posting it on IG. It was only Piglet in the circle of muscular, tattooed arms. She titled it simply ‘Making New Friends’ #puglyfe #Pigletthepug and the photo received 368K likes, and over 55K comments, mostly about whose arms these were and who was Piglet’s ‘new friend’.

She should’ve deleted the photo from her phone.

She should have. There was absolutely no reason to keep it. It served its purpose, it was all the rage on Piglet’s page and there was no further use for it. Her finger had hovered over the delete button for two days now, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it. Why? Because Piglet looked so good and comfy? That had to be the reason.

She was definitely going to delete it tomorrow.

It was Friday night, and Elain was ready for some pampering. At least this was her excuse for not going out on a Friday night yet again. But she had a busy week and she was owed a little time to herself.

It was half past eight, and she just sunk into her favourite armchair in her bedroom with her e-reader. Piglet was on the bed, with her phone propped for him, dog videos playing with the sound low. Whenever he liked what he saw, he emitted a satisfied growl, which resembled a cackle. Therefore, even though she was immersed in her book, his angry growl got her attention, because it was followed by the distinctive ping of FaceTime.

Who the hell was FaceTiming her at this time? Also, she rarely video chatted with anyone anyway.

She stretched, almost falling out of the chair, but managed to grab the phone, almost getting her finger bit by her disgruntled dog.

“Hell-...o,” her voice died as she was faced with none other than Azriel Night.

He looked like he was in bed, his face sharp and as handsome as ever, but not as tense as what she was used to. The man’s appearance was both his blessing and his curse. He was outrageously good looking, his face both elegant and perfect, but also typically inscrutable and emotionless. He was not a good person to read facial cues off, and that made it difficult for Elain to understand whether he was serious or not, pleased or displeased, happy or angry or sad.

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match

Find me a find

Match me a match!”

Azriel sang to her.

Her mouth was hanging open.

His voice was…nice. Husky. Sexy. And he sang well, which literally made no sense whatsoever. But he did?

“A girl’s night in, I see?” he asked, smirking. “And here I thought you’d be hitting the clubs. Bumping and grinding,”

“No one says ‘bumping and grinding’ anymore,” Elain told him.

“Yeah, I know. But I just brought it back and made it cool again,” he announced nonchalantly.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you ringing me on a Friday evening? How did you even get this number?”

“Ms. Archeron, you gave me the number,” he reminded her.

“No I didn’t!”

“No, you most certainly did.”

Thinking back to the last time he was at her office, Elain recalled what had transpired and cringed inwardly. She couldn't believe that she gave him her personal number!! She never did this. She always, always gave her clients her business number and never picked up on the weekends.

“Fine,” she admitted her oversight. “I gave you the number. Why are you ringing me?”

Azriel made himself comfortable against the pillow, and it stuck Elain just how intimate this was–both of them on camera, in their respective bedrooms, late at night. This was highly, highly irregular.

“Couple of reasons really,” he said casually. “Firstly, I know my schedule for next week and therefore, I wanted to book your time,”

“You make it sound like I am a hooker,” she winced, wrinkling her nose.

“Naw. You’d make the worst hooker in history,” he chuckled and Elain gasped at the audacity of her words. “Maybe as a matchmaker you are managing, but as a hooker,” he tsked. “No chance.”

“And why is that?”

“You challenging me on that, Ms, Archeron?”

“Simply curious.”

“Easy. You like things done your way–obsessively. You are a control freak,”

“Oh, back to insults I see,”

“I ain’t insulting you, matchmaker. Just stating facts. And a hooker’s job is to do the things that the client tells her to do. So there is that.”

“Oh, phew. I am not terribly broken up because according to Mr. Night I won’t make a successful prostitute.

“Besides this odd conversation, anything else?”

He thought for a moment and then grinned, exposing his perfect teeth. He looked so handsome when he smiled it was unfair. Unfair to all men.

“Guess what I am doing?” he teased.

“Lounging about, by the looks of it,” Elain shrugged. She feigned indifference, but Azriel could see through it–she was curious.

“Take a guess,” he encouraged her. “Come on. Humour me!”

Elain bubbled her lips and finally said,

“Probably eating or drinking something.”

“Yes!” he nodded and then reached and showed her two biscuits.

“Are those the same ones?” she gasped.

“Sure are!” he winked at her and then stuffed both in his mouth. Chewing with comical energy, he chomped and said, “nom, nom, nom’.

At that, Elain burst into laughter, like she couldn’t help herself.

“You are mad!” she cried. “I can’t believe you are still eating these!”

“Why? they are really good,” he insisted. “Delectable. And I think you might have to bake some more for our next meeting.”

“Or is that so?”

“It is so.”

“I suppose I should,” she conceded. “I can’t believe that you just pulled a ‘nom, nom’...So you wouldn’t have to drag them with you all over the country.”

Azriel paused, looking at him, slightly perplexed.

“Do you know where I am?” he asked at last.

Elain thought for a second, then simply told him, “Manchester”.

His face dropped and he glared at her in shock.

After a long pause, where she enjoyed his surprise and confusion, he finally asked, “How do you know?”

“Arsenal is playing Manchester United tomorrow–in Manchester. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Wait. Are you telling me that you like football?”

“Is it really so far-fetched that I might?” she inquired, relishing in her victory.

“Wait a minute,” he even sat up in his bed, staring at the phone. “Wait. What is your team?” he demanded roughly. “And if you say Chelsea…Well, I don’t know what I’d do, but it would be something bad!”

She laughed.

“You are mental.”

He didn’t react to the insult, other than asking roughly,

“What. Club. Ms. Archeron?”

“Tottenham, if you must know. With Arsenal not far behind. You ought to know that the Duke of Velaris,”

“Oh yeah, Granny Elain’s hot piece on the side,” Azriel chuckled, “what’d he do?”

“Being a military man,” Elain said, ignoring his quip, “he helped in the formation of Arsenal with the armoury workers. Better that they played ball than got drunk on gin.”

“So I am indirectly connected to your Duke? Captaining his team?”

“It’s not his team, and he isn’t my Duke, but he did love my gran.”

Azriel considered it and then murmured, “the plot thickens, doesn’t it? So, my stats that you rattled out the first day? You knew who I was? All that info?”

“Of course,” she shrugged. “I mean, the height and the weight I got from the roster. But I knew your background and who you were.”

“Well, well,” he complained, “that doesn’t seem fair at all.”

“What doesn’t?”

“That you know all these things about me, and I know very little about you.”

“That’s not unfair,” Elain argued. “That’s normal. I need to know things about you, but you don’t need to know anything about me.”

“I beg to differ. Like, I don’t even know what your success rate is? In your matchmaking? Maybe you're piss poor awful? I doubt it, but what if,”

“I am not piss poor awful, Mr. Night. I am very successful.” With some pride in her voice, she added, “I’ve worked with 88 couples. You are my 89th client. Out of the 88, I’ve had, so far, 81 marriages.”

“Shiiit,” Azriel whistled.

“3 couples did not work out, unfortunately. The rest are still dating. I am quite good at what I do, Mr. Night. I’ll find you a fine wife.”

“Ughehhh,” he breathed.

“What?”

“Wednesday afternoon, are you free?” he asked instead.

“Why? Is that when you are available?”

“Yes. But I’d like to take you out,”

“Mr. Night,” she started immediately, but he interrupted her,

“Not a date, Ms. Archeron. Calm the fuck down. You ain’t my type,”

“About 5 days ago, you literally said that you wanted your wife to look and act like me. Make up your mind, Mr. Night.”

Azriel laughed.

“You got me there. But really, I am not asking you on a date or anything preposterous like that. Just wanna get out of the office. I have just the place.”

“Just the place…”

“Yeah, I am betting my bollocks that you’ll love it!”

“Keep your bollocks. Let me see,” she looked up her calendar on her phone and said, “I can do 3 pm, if that works for you.”

“Perfect! I’ll pick you up.”

“What shall I wear?” she inquired, now very interested in where he was planning to take her.

“Clothes. Pearls. Your usual posh shit.”

“Posh shit. Got it.”

He continued, “Now, the other reason I rang,”

“Which is?”

“Would like to say ‘hello’ to my mate Pinky.”

“No one by that name here,” Elain said firmly.

“Aww, don’t be like that. Lemmie talk to the wee lad! I bet he missed me.”

“I doubt it.”

“What was he doing when I rang?”

“Watching videos,” Elain told him reluctantly.

“His doggie videos?”

“That’s what he likes.”

“He also likes me. So let us have a chat.”

With a dramatic sigh, she brought the phone closer to Piglet’s face and heard Azriel exclaim,

“Hey big lad! How are you doing?”

Hearing Azriel’s voice made Piglet actually raise his head and his tail wiggled.

“I missed you. Do you have a pretty bow on?” Azriel continued, her voice all sing-songy and cooey. Elain dipped the phone a bit and Azriel saw Piglet’s bow, which was a chequered tartan today.

“Ohhh, you are handsome!”

Bark. Piglet barked in agreement.

“I had a client from Scotland today,” Elain explained. “He loved the bow.”

“Scotsman also needs a wife?” Azriel asked.

“That’s why people come to me. They either need a husband or a wife.”

“Did Pinky like him?”

Elain looked back at the phone and told him, “He doesn’t really like anyone,”

“He likes me!” Azriel protested.

“Only.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Piglet doesn’t really trust humans. I think he knows that the previous family didn’t want him because of his leg and that when he was hurt, they abandoned him. And after that…well, I don’t know if he understands the concept of death, but I feel like he knew that they didn’t want him alive anymore. That they left him behind and would never come back for him.

“So he doesn’t really care about humans. He tolerates them, but he only loves me. And the only other person he ever responded to willingly, is…”

“Who?”

“You.”

Azriel didn’t say anything to that.

Elain stroked the dog’s back gently, looking down at him, seemingly having forgotten that Azriel was still on the phone.

“Put him on, will you,” he requested again.

She jerked out of her thoughts and then put the phone in front of the pug.

“You be good,” Azriel ordered him gently. “Take care of Ellie, alright? Remember, lad, you are the man of the house. I trust you to protect our girl when I am not there.”

Bark-bark.

“That’s right. You get me. Miss you, mate. Put Ellie back on the phone.”

Elain just gawked back, unable to form any words. What the HELL was that?

Ellie?

Protect?

OUR GIRL?

What in the world?

“We are kindred spirits, Pink and I,” Azriel decided. “He sees me. And I get him.”

“What?” she breathed, still trying to wrap her mind around everything that she just heard.

“I know about abandonment too…and Pinky recognises that,” Azriel said easily. “You know, when I was 8 years old, my father lost a game of cards. He didn’t have the money to pay, so he offered me, as a consolation prize. The men who played with him–well, they decided that it would be fun to light my hands on fire and see how long it would take for them to burn. And burn they did. When someone finally heard my screams, they rang the emergency services.

“My father and my step-mother never came to see me in the hospital, before I was moved to a foster home. So like I said, I know about abandonment.”

Elain was so shocked, she gasped in horror, staring back at him.

“He knows what it’s like not to be needed,” Azriel added softly and then winked at her. “Enjoy your beauty treatments, matchmaker. I’ll see you on Wednesday. Also, you better root for us tomorrow. G’night.”

With that, he clicked off, leaving Elain bewildered and emotionally destroyed.

He would never, ever, ever admit this to anyone, including himself, but Azriel Night was slightly intimidated by Elain Archeron.

She didn't exactly threaten him physically, but psychologically, there was something about her that made him…nervous. Unsure of himself. And he wasn’t a very confident man to begin with. Elain had noticed his self-esteem issues almost instantly–one of the very few people who did–and that made hiding himself from her even more complicated. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly about her, but she made him want to be better. Present the best version of himself. He still yearned to be himself in front of her, because as strange as that was, she seemed to accept him. But he wanted to be someone she enjoyed dealing with. She was judgy, but she didn’t judge him. He annoyed her because he didn’t take her and her work seriously–which he didn’t–but despite their head-butting, Azriel wanted her to like him…Oh Jesus. He sounded like an emotional teenage girl at a sleepover even to himself.

Why?

She was a pearl-wearing weirdo who had more complexes than she had cardigans. Why did he care what she thought about him? Why?

But he did.

So before he picked up the phone and FaceTimed her, he actually did some push ups. He knew that she had one soft spot–her dog–and he was fully prepared to use Pinky to his advantage. He had the biscuits all prepared, ready to spring them up on her at any moment. But he sure didn’t expect to be talking football and finding out about that side of her. And then getting excited about that…like an emotional teenage girl at a sleepover. Nevertheless, he had all these topics prepared in advance, so he could have a smooth conversation with her…and what he didn’t expect to do was to fuck it all up and tell her about how he got his hands burnt. Absolutely unnecessary. Totally inappropriate. He should’ve stopped when things were funny and light, and when she looked surprised and frazzled and adorable (his favourite look on her). But he went ahead and destroyed it all like a damn sledge hammer. What was wrong with him? Everything. That was the simplest answer. Everything.

He sat in his boxers on the bed, his head buried in his hands.

It rained outside and he wasn’t looking forward to the game tomorrow, because the weather promised to be abysmally bad and he’d have to run for 90 minutes in the pouring rain. Oh joy.

Therefore, when his phone rang, Azriel jumped, startled.

It was FaceTime.

He had her under ‘Cute Matchmaker’ in his phone, and she was calling him now. Not even ten minutes after they hung up.

He exhaled and pressed the button.

Before he could say anything, make a joke, or tease, he was faced with Elain’s tear-covered face, her huge, cartoonishly enormous round eyes wet and brimming over with tears. She’d removed all her little beauty patches that she had clearly forgotten about when they were speaking before. Now, it was just her pale, beautiful and grief-stricken face.

“Why did you tell me?” she sobbed.

He was taken aback and was at a loss for words. He watched her wipe her eyes with her first, but tears just flowed out of her eyes in little rivulets.

“How…how,” she hiccuped, “could they…why? How could they…you were eight…”

She choked back a sob and all Azriel wanted to do was beg her to stop crying, explain that it was over twenty years ago and that it was the past, but he also knew that it would cheapen the emotion of her reaction.

“It’s not human, to do something like that,” she wept. “To take a little boy and maim him like that…Why?”

“People do cruel things all the time,” Azriel’s voice was hollow.

“But…but…” she gulped in the air, snot and tears mixing together on her face.

“I am sorry,” Azriel said sincerely. “This wasn’t my intention. I didn’t mean to upset you,”

“I can’t believe that something so awful happens in our world,” Elain admitted naively, “it’s incomprehensible.”

Worse things happened in this world, and Azriel had seen many of them, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure whether Elain Archeron, matchmaker to the rich and powerful, the little delicate pearl-wearing oddity was very adept at living in the real world. She existed on a different plane: enigmatic and sincere in her nature, maybe a little too innocent, but that’s kind of what attracted Azriel to her. Why, despite finding her difficult and mystifying at times, puzzling and irritating he relished in her uniqueness.

“Bad things happen,” he only concluded with general vagueness about his statement.

“I can’t accept that,”

Azriel wanted to argue, tell her that she was being glib, that it wasn’t a matter of her acceptance and that she needed to accept that some people were born in shit, lived in shit and died in shit. That children were abused and that often, parents were the ones who abused them. He wanted to tell her to get her head out of her arse and face the world in all its ugliness.

But he didn’t say any of that.

He made Elain cry, and it made him feel like a massive arsehole for some reason. Instead of laying harsh truths on her, he wanted to protect and shield her from those very truths. This was a girl who rescued three legged pugs from certain death and then put bows on them.

“Will you stop crying?” he asked gently.

“No, I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how horrible it was.”

She sniffled and trembled, and he watched her and Pinky as he rubbed his head against her arm, trying to comfort her. The dog whimpered sadly, not understanding why she was so upset.

Azriel thought frantically, trying to find a way out of this mess, until something popped into his head. Something that he and Cassian used to do when they were in the group home, to make themselves feel better about their lives.

“Can I make it all better?” he requested quietly.

She looked at him, blinking over her tears.

“How?” she wiped her face again.

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“Ha!”

“Don’t argue with me, woman,” he ordered sternly. “Get your arse in bed, and under the blanket.”

She glared at him suspiciously, not understanding what he wanted.

Prodding her over the phone wasn’t exactly easy, but he nodded and said, “Come on, lass. Don’t be stubborn. Under the sheets you go.”

The phone wobbled and jolted, but he knew that she followed his directive and in the next moment, she was holding the phone to her face.

“Turn on your side,” he instructed.

She dared to roll her eyes at him, but did as he told her.

“Now what? How is this making me feel better?”

“Ms. Archeron, be quiet for one sec and quit making a fuss. Trust the fucking process.”

“Remember how we discussed language?” she cocked a brow at him.

“Remember how we discussed not being annoying and bossy all the time?”

“We never discussed that.”

“We are discussing it now.”

“Is this sexting? Is this what we are doing?” she suddenly popped her head up from the pillow and stared at him in horror.

Azriel attempted to smother a laugh, though it came out as a loud snort.

“Do you have any idea what sexting is?”

“Yes, talking sex stuff on the phone. And if this is your idea of making it all better, this is a hard pass. I am not sexting with you.”

“No sexting. You are not my type,” he reminded her.

She only scoffed in indignation at his words.

He quickly added,

“Unless you really want to do some sexting with me. I am quite good at it,”

“No doubt,”

“Good at dirty talk. I’ll understand. No judgement. If the ginger bloke isn’t hitting all the spots–which I am guessing he isn’t since you are home alone with your dog on a Friday night–then I can help out…relieve some tension. No strings attached.”

“You are obsessed with the ‘ginger bloke’ as you call him,” Elain pointed out.

“More like fascinated with what man would date you?”

She winced at his words and he immediately realised that he didn’t say the right thing. Not at all.

“So in your mind, I am so undateable that only the most odd and deranged man would grace me with his merciful presence?” she whispered and a sad tear rolled down her cheek.

“I am sorry! That’s not what I meant,” he pleaded at once. “I didn’t say it right…”

“No you didn’t,” she concluded. “I am sorry, Mr. Night, but I am tired and upset and your idea of making me feel better isn’t working. Good night.”

“No, no,” he exclaimed quickly, attempting to salvage the situation. “Please. Just stay on the line for a second. I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to know who you chose to be your boyfriend? What does he have that no one else’s got to make you fall for him? Is all. That’s all I meant.”

“You are brutish and aggressive and rude,” she told him, sniffling.

“I know,” he confirmed.

“You are supposed to argue!”

“Why argue if it’s the truth? Now. Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes?”

“Yes.”

Elain closed her eyes.

“Think about it, but not too long. And then describe your ideal day,” he urged quietly.

“I don’t know what my ideal day is,” she argued softly.

“Well, create it for me. Create it in your mind. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go? Who do you want to be with?”

She thought, her brow furrowing and a cute little line appearing between her brows.

At last, she told him, “In London. I want to be in London,” her eyes were still closed. “I want to wake up and it’s quiet, but I know that I am in the city. I don’t linger for too long, but I do take the longest shower, with like…10 shower heads!”

Azriel smiled at that, but didn’t comment, not wanting to break the spell of the moment.

“And then I dress in something very comfortable–joggers maybe, or a nice tracksuit. Soft and loose. And then, I would go downstairs and there would be breakfast. A full English–fry bread and beans and black pudding. The whole deal. And I would eat it all. All the sausages and all the eggs. And I’d drink all the tea too. And once I am done eating, the door would open and in would come Piglet, and behind him, my husband. And he would…”

She stopped talking.

Azriel waited.

There was more to her dream than just devouring a full English. There was something that she was apprehensive about sharing, but wanted him to know.

Azriel knew people–he could read them fairly easily, and Elain wasn’t exactly complicated. But he was the captain of his team, and he had to operate and adjust all the time throughout the game, reading his teammates’ moods and needs.

So as he waited for Elain to say more, he already suspected what it would be.

“He’d be pushing a pram,” she whispered, voice barely audible. “With our children in it.”

“He is good, this husband of yours,” Azriel commented simply. “Makes you breakfast. Takes the dog out. Minds the children.”

“He loves me. And I love him,” she murmured.

“What’s he look like?”

“He is tall.”

“Anything else?”

“No. He is tall.”

“How many children?”

“Four. I mean, two when I think about it. But eventually, four. Why do you want to know?”

“Four is a good number,” he approved. “What else? Tell me more.”

“I think I’d like to go to Portobello Road Market and get lost in the crowds and find fun things there to buy.”

Not what he expected, but alright. He leaned towards a fancier store. Not fucking Portobello Road Market.

“Piglet loves it there,” she added. “He loves crowds. And then we can stop by my sister Nesta’s house and have lunch. Or no…no, no,” she shook her head vigorously. “I want something else!”

“Okay, what do you want?”

“I want to go to Greenwich, to the park. I love that park and the observatory. And the views,”

“You’d be looking at where I live,” he smiled.

“What? Where do you live?”

“Canary Wharf.”

“Ohhh,” she whistled softly. “Fancy! You are a footballer, I guess it makes sense. It’s either that, or Primrose Hill or a big pile in Surrey or something,”

“You are right.” Azriel was amused. But she wasn’t wrong.

“So, we’ve gone all the way from Bloomsbury, to Notting Hill, to Greenwich…Where to now? After the park? What did you do at the park by the way?”

“Played with Piglet. With my husband.”

“Uh-uh. And?”

“And then we need to go to a pub because I’d be tired.”

“Legit.”

“Get a couple of drinks…”

“So your ideal day is travelling around London and eating?”

“Basically yes. I love eating so much,” she admitted dreamily. “Afterwards, I want to have tea somewhere too. At a nice place. Maybe at the Goring.”

“Are you still wearing your tracksuit? And hauling around your dog and kids?” Azriel teased, and she stuck her tongue at him, in a very unlady-like gesture, and un-Elain-like reaction.

“You are messing up my dream day!”

“Sorry. Just trying to picture you in your very comfy joggers at the Goring. What else then? Where are we finishing this day? A swanky restaurant? A bar?”

Decisively, she said, “no! We’d go to my favourite place.”

“I am waiting here with bated breath, Ms. Archeron. What is your favourite place?”

“G Kelly, Mr. Night. I get a meat pie with small liquor and mash and apple crumble with custard.”

“What the fuck do you know about G Kelly?” he gaped at her through the screen.

“You are so rude. I like what I like, Mr. Night. Leave me alone. And my husband will love it too!”

“I mean, I love the place, but come on,”

“What does it have to do with you?”

“Aren’t you marrying me? I am tall. I can make babies. I’ll take Pinky out.”

“You are unhinged,” he said flatly.

“Tell me that you are at least considering it?”

“Marrying you? Hardly.”

“Don’t you want your own bit o’rough?”

“You are not a bit o’rough, Mr. Night. You are a multi-millionaire who lives in Canary Wharf. As I said before, you need to get out of your own head. You are adored by millions and you play for one of the best teams in the world. Yes, you grew up rough, but that’s all behind you,”

“Is it?”

“It is. I grew up as a normal child and I was exposed to many different people and places. I am not as posh as you think.”

“I’ll take your word for it. You feeling better, Ms. Archeron?”

She considered it and then nodded, “I am. Thank you. This was surprising, but it did the trick.”

“I know. Well, sleep well then. I expect you to watch the game tomorrow and root for us. And for me.”

“Oh, is that an order?”

“Yeah, it kind of is. We’ll be discussing it on Wednesday. Don’t get in trouble meanwhile.”

“Oh, I’ll do my best,” she promised, hiding her smile.

“‘Night, big lad,” Azriel called out loudly. “You be good too.”

Piglet was already asleep.

The more you know…

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #pro elriel #elain #elriel fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #ACOTAR fanfiction #A Match Baked In Heaven #new chapter #Modern AU

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literaryartisan · 2 months ago

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Today’s a rough day for a lot of us, I’d love to know:

-a recent fun fact

-a recipe you’d like to share

-a solid song

-if u know ur my buddy? bc u are

<3 you're my buddy too!!! How about a recipe? I took this from the back of a box of pasta years ago and now it's my go-to for work potlucks or if I just want to meal prep a week's worth of easy lunches. It's very versatile and has a lot of veggies! Alter it to your liking Rainbow Rotini Antipasti Salad

That's what Golden Grain calls it and I call it something like "that tricolor rotini veggie pasta thing", completely forgetting that "antipasti" is a word.

The Ingredients (I almost pasted a picture of my hero Racheal Kundananji in here oops):

12 ounces Golden Grain® Tri-Color Rotini (that's the whole box)

2-1/2 cups small broccoli florets (you can omit if you don't like broccoli. I like broccoli)

1 cup cubed mozzarella cheese (like half of a 16oz block of mozzarella. also I only just now realized pepper jack would probably work really well?? I might try that next time)

3/4 cup sliced pepperoni, halved (I like to use turkey pepperoni. You can also just omit this if you don't want meat in it!)

1/2 cup red or green bell pepper strips (whichever color is on sale is a good one to get. I also like to try to make this at the same time as something else that uses bell peppers like fajitas because 1/2 a cup isn't much unless you got a tiny pepper. alternatively: just put the whole pepper in there) (oh, also I like to make them more like squares than strips? it's easier to dish up and eat because bite size rectangles match the size of everything else better than long strips)

1/3 cup red onion, thinly sliced (see above re: making another dish that uses this ingredient. I can only find GINORMOUS red onions, so the rest went into my fajitas)

3/4 cup bottled Italian dressing (I use Wishbone Zesty Robusto Italian Dressing I think because I forgot it doesn't say "zesty" in the recipe?? there's enough in the bottle for like 2 of these salads with some extra and it keeps well. use whatever italian dressing you want, or experiment with other dressings if you don't like italian)

Bonus ingredients not in the recipe!! 1 can sliced black olives (I love olives and you know only half a can actually made it in)

1-2 cucumbers, peeled and cubed (number depends on size of cucumber. I don't usually do this if it's just for myself, the cucumber doesn't keep as long)

honestly you could probably throw shredded carrots or other croncier veggies in here. maybe some green onions. jicama??? I haven't tried any of those but you can do what you want forever.

The Directions from the Golden Grain website:

1 - Cook pasta according to package directions, adding broccoli to the boiling water for the last minute of cooking time. Drain, rinse well with cold water; drain again.

2 - In a large bowl, combine all ingredients, tossing together to distribute dressing.

3 - Serve immediately, or cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Cook's Tip: If you're refrigerating the salad until serving, be sure to toss it gently just prior to serving, adding a few splashes of dressing if needed.

My tips!! Fill the pot with water, put it on the stove, and then start chopping veggies while you wait for the water to boil. You'll want to set the broccoli aside to blanche it in the pasta water (this step is worth taking) but otherwise just throw everything into your large bowl.

Don't feel rushed if the pasta is almost ready, you still need to drain it and rinse it and let it cool down!! Adding it to the bowl warm will melt the cheese and maybe even partially cook the other veggie depending how hot the pasta is (ask me how i know!!!) Just make it wait its turn until you have everything else ready. It all comes together in half an hour or less, depending how fast your chopping skills are (mine are slow) and how quickly your pasta water comes to boil.

This makes A LOT. If you're making it just for you be prepared to be eating it almost every day for about a week.

#recipes #ilu friend

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werebutch · 9 months ago

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@eucyon Oh my god tumblr ate your ask I’m so lucky I screenshotted. So mad I have to type again . Thank you so much for dis question it’s so fun and made me really think to be honest ^__^ ILYSMMMM this is long but it’s too fun

This is Lynx’s most popular album, Conspiracy Theories. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a pic of lynx as the cover even if it’s silly. I really like rabbit imagery in music anyways though so I think it’s nice. I was inspired by Alice In Chains album covers and also fleshwater’s ‘we’re not here to be loved’. I tried to find a way to make it more 'gritty' but I couldn’t unfortunately 😭 I like how the title looks, like they just got a label maker and smacked it on..heheh

I imagine that this album is about relationship anxiety, betrayal, resentment, anti social tendencies, infidelity, and aliens. Probably not little green men, maybe more like the thing kind of fleshy imagery. Definitely appealing to atlas and scotch in different ways. Tool’s Undertow is a good example (off the top of my head..) of the sound I’m thinking of, so… prog? Or at least heavily inspired. I’m bad with genres heheh

im currently trying to either become okay with roadkill's name, or decide on a new one.. so im not making any album covers for them yet lol but i will post when i do..

I think roadkill would take a lot of inspo from their fave band so their style is probably heavily influenced by Lynx. Scotch adds a lot of sampling, distortion, whatever..idk I don’t make music.. and atlas is a big fan of slow tempo and bass. think its important to note that atlas doesnt play bass like a bassist in this album, he plays it more like a guitarist. kind of. hope that makes sense. I’ve always been really torn about roadkill’s genre, it’s been everywhere and tends to change. scotch and atlas’ styles would be vastly different if they were solo, so I think that’s why i am so indecisive . I think I just have to keep reminding myself that they’re in a band together, so styles would be mixed.

A part of me is like.. I think roadkill’s first album would be reminiscent of faith no more’s ‘the real thing’, or even some of Primus' stuff in some sense, plus similarities to Lynx and influences of industrial. i know thats a lot of random descriptions. I kinda think of (here’s a goofy genre for ya) sludge metal bands’ instrumental style, not necessarily vocal style... its hard to describe a band that doesnt exist. LMFAO

right now im thinking about 'the pot' by tool as a close example of roadkill.. im having a hard time finding artists that match scotch's vocal range even remotely. also doesnt help that the bands im basing this off of like tool and FNM dont exactly...fit into genres very neatly. roadkill and lynx wouldnt either. HAH. i just know it wouldnt be that high quality but definitely obvious theres a lot of passion in it. i mean this is just an album made by guys who dontknow what theyre doing. like at all. lol

Roadkill’s sound changes quite a bit their next album when seraph is involved. It becomes a lot more ummmm I guess palatable to more people? I don’t exactly know what I mean by that. Ok. LOL. I’ll think about it.. but this is around when Scotch realizes he wants this to be his job. Having Seraph helps A LOT with building a more dedicated and bigger audience, since they’re the one most willing to make changes. Plus they’re in art school, I feel like they’d have connections. So I guess roadkill would sell out in a way.

if you asked me this question a year ago i would have had a completely different answer. i wouldve probably said roadkill is pop punk or garage rock or something. i have trouble fitting scotch and atlas into a genre together. it fits scotch just fine and i think he would enjoy it, but its not roadkill.. also ive been thinking of stylizing roadkill as rdkill.. lmk wat u think.. im unsure about the name is generalHAHA. i know this is a lot so dont feel pressured to reply to everything LMAO im just thinking out loud. and drawing connections between genres that completely do not make sense. peace and LOVE<3

#cover definitely looks like it’s made on picsart but dats ok HAHAHAH #I know I’m throwing a bunch of album titles at u but I hope this makes sense HAHAH #Spotify #ive been typing so much i hope this answers your questions..! <333 LOVE YOU #asks #eucyon #roadkill

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bionicle-ramblings · 1 year ago

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Humanized Toa Metru x Reader stuff because I'm bored and I saw a really good piece of art work

These are collective ones. I'll make "solo" posts or something for each team member later

Is it a polyamorous thing? It could be. You're not exactly a member of the team, but you're not unwelcome in the group. You're an honorary member, as it were. You fill them in with anything they need to know, like what threat is where, what they should expect, et cetera. As an honorary member, you're not allowed on missions. At all. Too risky. You also suspect that a few of the Toa just want you around because they want to keep an eye on you, so you don't snitch to anyone else

You know them because they're around you, you're all loosely aware of each other, being on, "Oh, that's (name)," basis

For the longest time, you thought Nokama was the leader, but were surprised to see Vakama was instead. Knowing them, loosely, you always thought Nokama would lead the charge because of her being a student-teacher/studying to be a teacher. Nope. Vakama has admitted he didn't ask to be a leader, but now that the role's been put on him, he's in it. You did suggest using a lottery system where names were picked out of a hat and whoever’s name was picked was the one to lead, but you got laughed at by Onewa and Matau

Before finding out, you would see each of them with battle damage, like scratches and bruises that weren't there the day before. When asked, the responses varied from, "I fell down" to "I ran into the door" to "I got in a fight" even to "What bruises?" and "It's none of your business." You thought they were all in a fight club before learning they were Toa

You asked Vakama how he lights candles, being able to use and control fire, and he lit one using a lighter he keeps on him for incognito. When you asked to see his elemental powers, he lit another candle with his index finger, though he really uses whichever finger he wants, even the ring finger

You are medically inclined, so you've had to patch up the Toa a fair number of times. That includes having to emergency stitch Whenua, splint Nuju's arm, help Vakama cauterize his own leg, tourniquet Nokama's hand, clean and change bandages Matau got, all sorts of things

Turns you their luck spread to you because you've had to have your leg stitched and some serious injuries fixed by the Toa

Most nights consist of waiting for your partner or partners to come home or, worse case scenario, wait for a few to come back with bad news

They talk to each other, but they open up with you

You've lost more bets than you care to admit because Matau and Onewa talked you into eating chili peppers with them and Vakama. You three were no match and you thought Vakama was just using his heat resistance to his advantage. He proved he wasn't by eating a small bit of chocolate with capsaicin extra in it and it was the first time anyone of you saw him need to get milk to drink after eating something spicy. He did pour himself a cup, though, because having a strong reaction to spice and drinkimg out of the carton is a no-no

You and Matau were once the only ones up first, and you woke up everyone by banging pots and pans together

You used to doubt Vakama had visions. You weren't a prick about it, but you had your doubts. That is until one day, while out with Matau and Nokama for some chill time, Vakama raced towards you three, shouting at you to turn away from where you were going. You realized why when you got attacked by Nidhiki. Later, when the battle was over, you asked how Vakama knew where you three were as phones don't exist and you didn't tell him where you were exactly. He didn't know. His visions did

Whenua and Nuju still have some disagreements about studying the past or future. You have ensudred those arguments don't get physical

You've lost race after race against Nokama when you two were swimming, but you did come close

A nothing activity you and the team have done: A try not to laugh game. No toiching, no props, no prep time, just you and your imagination. You found out that you get a lot of pity/"Oh, come on," laughs from Nokama, Vakama, and Nuju when you use wordplay and puns, but you also learned that Whenua isn't a fan and teamed up with Matau and Onewa to make you laugh specifically as revenge

Cuddle puddles. That is all

#bionicle #ramblings #toa metru #humanized bionicle #vakama #matau #nokama #onewa #whenua #nuju #long post under cut #x reader

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astralsi · 1 year ago

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hello, elli! how are you doing? i'm always very impressed by your builds, you seem to craft them very carefully and you definitely have an amazing eye for detail. there's lots of small touches that make them feel alive/realistic and they have a warm atmosphere that really appeals to me. because of that, i'd like to ask you if you have any tips when it comes to building and finding inspiration. oh, i almost forgot, i'd love to have your last builds and its residents when you reach the milestone!

Hiya!! this is such a sweet ask and the ideas are brewing in my head so you get a dissertation under the cut :D (ps ily you made my day HEHE)

ALRIGHT! so first of all a little context, i've been building since i got the sims 3 alll the way back in 2011. i think. i was 7, couldn't speak or even understand english yet and my game was stuck in it so for a very long time i was just doing whatever and most of the time it.... sucked! I got the sims 4 back in 2014 with the mac release, and back in the day the build mode was revolutionary so i spent a lot of my time in there. For me building is fun, i know a lot of people who see it as frustrating and timeconsuming and while it can be- it can also be very enjoyable in the right setting.

first of all, style changes a lot and my builds look different every year! the style i've been building in now only really started in 2021/2022 with this build:

now for some tips:

there's a lot of ways to get inspiration, but my favourite and most useful is pinterest! i have a board full of exterior and interior designs, some i use for vibes and others i follow very closely, i find using references (just like you might for sims) helps a ton when trying to build something realistic. Also think magazines like architectural digest, design blogs on tumblr, youtube home viewings, other video games, tv shows etc. When i'm building for DFM i like to keep Stranger Things, Gone Home and Bones And All in mind as inspiration, and when i build the house in this post for @literalite's Dgwicf i referenced the house from Bosch.

Along with that comes inspo from other builders on Simblr. Go and look at your fav builds, what makes them stand out to you? how can you incorporate that into your own builds? what do you need to be able to do that? One thing i did a lot while learning was watching speed builds; and i mean the REAL kind not the stop motion ones despite them being weirdly satisfying lmao. Ones with a good voiceover help too. Seeing someone actually build makes it a lot easier to figure out more complicated building styles.

One thing i like to do is to build through storytelling. I personally mostly build for sets, so then i like to consider what the viewer needs to see to be able to understand a character without having to know them, where you are/live says a lot about you! But for gameplay it works similarly. Ask yourself questions; who lives here, what is this lot used for, how much money do they have, where is this set, does this match the rest of the neighbourhood/town. If building many lots for something like a story or save file, i like to make a pinterest board for the town vibes too.

Technically, i think there's two main tips for making a build look nice in this specific style. Landscaping and Clutter! i actually think landscaping is the most important part of building as it ties the entire thing together; even if its just three trees in a planter pot. Don't forget about terrain painting either! this one's hard to learn if you never do it but i'd say start out with the softest but largest brush option and kind of airbrush some dirt/gravel around the lot and add a little extra dirt underneath houses and roads. Last tip; if you struggle with roofing there's lots of tutorials on youtube, or you could just choose builds that have less roofs.

i have no idea how to explain how to clutter but you could walk around your house to look for stuff you'd normally clean up if someone would come over. add that into your build :) think trash, laundry, study materials, craft projects, little random nicknacks, cooking supplies, etc. sometimes i go through my clutter folders and just put everything i want to use in one room and distribute it later once the furniture is in!

so uhmmm,,, i hope this was helpful lemme know!! have fun building and don't forget to take snack breaks... sugar helps hehe

#ts4 #ts4 build #ts4 building #anon #ask #you're so kind i was giggling at the compliments hehe

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tuntunipakhi · 2 months ago

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My attempt at gardening, and also at telling you the truth.

To love is to inevitably lose. The first truth I looked upon. The first truth I thought I accepted, cerebrally at least, reinforced through tight whacks of a ruler against my upturned naked wrist every time I try to shield my eyes against its harsh and unflinching stare.

The truth is a stern teacher, and corporeal punishment does little to numb me to the sting, only succeeding in layering it with memories past like scars on previously unmarred, receptive skin. Every fresh impact brings the tears of old wounds back into my eyes. I should be good at this by now, this business of looking the Truth in the eyes and calling it as it is. Every time I bow my head in shame at my naïve and dogged hopefulness, it blurs in the periphery of my vision, warping into something I can stand to look at.

The truth as seen from the corner of my eyes:

1. I am so worthy of love that loving me is inevitable.

2. Everything works out in the end and my pain and heartbreak are just added moisture for the light to bend and break into the beautiful rainbow rays of a Happy Ending that a girl can only dream of.

3 . I think I love you truly and purely outside the bounds of what you could give me and what I know I want to give you- kisses and arguments and tears and bear hugs and slow mornings with my small body wrapped tight against the wall of your back in bed.

But as you roll over and pull the covers from our intertwined figures, I turn my face and I see the truth lying bare, naked and shivering, uncovered for a moment.

I know I love you dishonestly and impurely.

The tightness of our stretched boundaries broadens the space between my heart and the space where I reach for yours. (Imagine the scene from Strangers on a Train, I’m the homoerotic psychokiller and your heart is the piece of evidence I want to plant to make my story corroborate). Somewhere a crack I can’t place widens the space (Imagine also, the impossible ability to stretch I do not have, because we aren’t living in a Hitchcock film), and I hurry to bridge it, grabbing the nearest things I can find:

The pillow stiff in between us stuffed with all the things left unsaid and unshared. All the notifications unhurriedly swiped away from the top of your phone as I avert my eyes. The familiar sinking feeling and bitter pang of ritual rememberance hurriedly swallowed down, that cuts my banter at its source. (Later, when I’m alone and unsupervised on your Instagram following, I will call it back up like bile in my throat). The plant you bought me from Florida (just because… because you know me so well? because I plague your mind, in, like, a good way?) that matches my room so perfectly.

I want to love you freely, I want to love you despite the different spaces our hearts occupy, but I panic at the distance and stretch harder to reinforce the unsteady bridge I am trying to build.

I want to be content with just your sweet friendship, made up of confusing moments of kindness, grace, understanding, and bodily comfort. I want to be content with the way you hold me through the night and across the table as I cry over stupid things and you say you understand (because you really do and we are made up of the same stuff, you and I, and how could I not fall in love with you). I want to be okay with the briefness of the euphoric floating I experience every time you let me soar with badly drawn wings on the easy breeze of your appreciation of them. I squint my eyes and pretend that I am, that friendship is all I’ll ever ask of you. I feel the familiar sting of the ruler long before I hear the dull thud of its impact, (oh Truth, you relentless, cruel mistress) and my shaky hands spill out all the kindness you give me. I don’t know what to do with it all, years of neglect have left me unprepared. So I spoon it quick into the only container I have on hand, the potted plant you’ve given me. I hope it grows into something more.

And when I get impatient, I dig and uproot and repot into a larger, softer patch of soil. The turnover, bits of spilled mud spell out more of the truth for me in letters clearer than I’ve ever managed to write.

I am holding out hope. I have been, ever since I met you, for a whirlwind love story where our friendship roots itself so deep that you’re left wanting without it. That I become the special person in your life, the person, the only one that matters, that synthesises the sun and nourishes your garden. To that effect, I’ve been sprinkling weeds when you aren’t paying enough attention- mean biting remarks and sundresses and retellings of kisses all designed to hurt your feelings, and in effect, uncover them. All so you’ll pick up your shears and come back and groom me into something more beautiful, a topiary in the image of the woman you could finally love. I’ve been trying to root myself inside you so hard that I didn’t notice that the opposite had occurred, that all I succeeded in doing was making a farm out of you and decommissioning all other food sources. Maybe that’s why this plant won’t grow.

Let’s cut the flowery language at its stems and dirty our soles for a moment.

The truth unearthed looks like this. I need you, need you too much, need you to rewrite everything it is about me that screams unloveability. I need you to choose me, over and over again. I need you to prioritise me, to think about me constantly. I need you to shed tears over me. To water me with them. With your consideration. With your cum. With your affection. With your sweat. With your effort. I want you to accept it all, to accept the fear of loving me, to fear losing me above all else and still to not be able to breathe without having me. I need you to want me, to drink up every insignificant moment spent with me and greedily reach for more.

The way I do.

In a last ditch (haha) attempt at making your plant grow, I reach for the final tool in my gardening box, a spade I label ‘comparison’.

If I was leaving for four months, fuck, even a month, the only person I’d ever want to spend my time, my nights with, is you. Not out rake-ishly mowing my lawn with borrowed hoes. (Okay, okay. I apologise for the puns, and the misogyny. Sometimes Love rears its ugly head and it looks just like me). I hit the bottom of the pot as I dig myself deeper (one could argue I was in too deep far before), and the fact resounds with tin-like clarity.

The whole entire truth, unpotted and dusted and wiped clean at last, shines undeniably. You don’t love me. You really never will, I am nothing but your very dear , platonic friend, and this is nothing but a very fake, plastic plant. I have to learn to be okay with this. I hold my wrists out with a sigh and I try not to look away again.

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iantimony · 11 months ago

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i once again am overwhelmed by stupid busywork. Get Me Out

listening: finished the counter/weight prequel eps! feels good to be listening to a friends at the table thing in-time with when they're released, lol. i fully laughed out loud at the heartfelt moment between aria and hymn being interrupted by austin's fucking ice machine. incredible. no notes. "people are gonna go insane about aria in this one" keith you are SO right.

music for the week was the spotify release radar! just gettin some new tunes. i'm thinking of making a playlist that's just the songs that i like from release radar and the at the end of the year i can have a New Of 2024 list, idk. i AM going to try and be more discerning about what things i post, though - it would be very easy to just drop a huge list of all the songs on there that i kinda liked with no commentary but i think it'll be more fun to do fewer songs and actually talk about them, y'know?

philadelphia (matt maltese): feels like a mug of tea. very soft. nostalgic for something i've never seen. travels (rob blivion): really does seem like it should be playing over some indie film montage of someone travelling through mists in the scottish highlands. harsh truths (lemoncello): another indie soundtrack song. i think there's a bass in the background? although in retrospect i think it's a cello. lemoncello. duh. anyways it's very good. burning down the house (paramore): this is SUCH a fun cover. what can't paramore do for real. oh no::he said what? (nothing but thieves): BOUNCY. toe tapper. i am driving down a neon highway at 10000mph. coming home song (sammy rae & the friends): back to wistful and nostalgic. feels a certain kind of way especially right now because i am in the process of finding a new apartment, entirely alone for the first time. jolene (maneskin & dolly parton): speaking of really fun covers, yes yes yes. everything i would have wanted from this.

honorable mention to love me not (emei). i do not like this song particularly. it is stuck in my head though.

reading: fallow.

watching: just like last week: with the boyf, the newest dungeon meshi, i loved the way they animated the mimic. then some kill la kill. we're up to episode 11 now, almost halfway! also went to a superbowl party sunday. basically what you'd expect. fun socializing though.

playing: only had the one dnd last weekend, the one i run! went well. definitely was kinda sleepy and not as focused as i'd like. sigh.

making: mostly fallow...i cut out some of the border pieces for my handsewing project in a nice matching solid blue during the superbowl but have not attached any of it yet. started idly crocheting a rectangular prism-shaped object to use as a mtg deck case.

drew a little birthday card for my grandma i guess? mostly watercolor pencil, some prisma marker for the background. can't be assed to rotate it the right way, sorry, lol

pottery-wise, i did not take pictures but i have some fun interesting stuff in the works! biiiiig pot for my mom (got a little busted. but i think it'll make it). mug. glazing a bowl using sgraffito to carve out some waves (my roommate accidentally dinged the rim and i'm incorporating that into the design). did not take any pictures last week but i'll get some tomorrow for the next tuesdaypost.

eating: my roommate made a truly enormous focaccia in a 9x13 glass baking dish to cut into super bowl party sandwiches. they were delicious and we are still eating them for lunch basically every day. she also made a marinated beef bulgogi-type object, served over rice with veg and a fried egg and some spaghetti squash...yumb.

misc: i can't even be like "i just have to make it through this week" because i know next week will look literally exactly like this one (homework due wednesdays for one class, fridays (plus ANOTHER assignment alternating wednesdays) for the other). really bad vibes. just gotta make it through this week this semester.

#tuesdayposting #Spotify

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bupbupsippycup · 1 year ago

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Escaping the Arena | Tales from the Outlands | An Apex Legends story

Part 1

Paradise Lounge was quiet this morning. Or rather, a facsimile of it. The Legends weren't allowed outside of the Arena facilities for half the year. Only Walter, Blódhundr, and Makai are here while Elliot serves, for old time’s sake. Though he has enjoyed every minute of bamboozling and out-witting (Or "Elliot-Witting" as he likes to say) his opponents in the Blood-Sport known as the Apex Games, he still finds that he’s missing his mother, Evelyn, more now than ever before. He’s also missed the life of a bar owner, which, after the mortal terror of fighting in the Games, now seems like meaningless busywork. He's playing the song "Cherry Thrill" by Movements through his phone speaker, and decides to ask about the mood.

“Why so glum, guys? We’ve got the day off, let’s drink and smoke our brains out!”

“I do not partake of mind-addling substances. While I believe that everyone should choose for themselves, I would rather have my wits about me always.” Blódhundr answers politely. Walter strides in with more confidence than 10 people would ever need altogether, and yells across the room to Blódhundr

“Well, what the hell’re ya doing in a bar, then?” Elliot and Makai wave to Walter, cheering his Legend name.

“Fu-u-use!!”

“Evenin’ fellas! How the hell are we??”

“Uh, not too great, I guess,” Elliot replies. Walter rests his metal arm in his usual spot on top of the bar, where by now, there is a large dent the size of an apple, and notices that the Lounge is quite dull at the moment.

“Ah, no kiddin’? What’s this sorry-lookin’ lot?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with them. I suggested alcohol and pot, and I’ve never needed anything else…” Says Elliot, watching them curiously, as one does if watching a baby Leviathan who decides to speak English. Makai looks up from his drink, towards Elliot.

“I don’t wanna offend you, Elliot, but what works for you doesn’t work for everyone else.” Makai turns to Walter.

“I think we’re just tired of wondering if we’ll come home after every match.” Elliot seems to agree. “Yeah, I gotta admit, I’m not feeling great about heading up to the Dropship tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on! I know we’re going out there to fight and likely die soon, but this is the life! We've got more money and fame than anyone else in the Frontier! We all signed up for it, no use mopin’ about now!” Walter says, incredulous. Blódhundr looks to Walter.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Walter hears this, and his expression sobers up. He looks to Makai and Elliot.

“Gimme some privacy here, fellas?” They nod and leave for their bunks. Walter sits with Blódhundr and tries to reassure them.

“Now, don’t go worryin’ yourself about me, ya hear?”

“I cannot deny my fears. You must understand that.”

“‘Course I understand, but I’ve been at this for years. You can’t imagine that there’s something I won’t handle?”

“But I do. I care for you, my Walter. Please do not leave me. We must find another way out of this life. I have had my fill, surely you have as well!”

Walter sits in silence for the longest time… a most unusual occurrence. When he finally answers, Blódhundr can tell that he’s being completely truthful.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t know you felt like that.” He is quiet again for a moment. “If that’s what you want, I’m set on it as well…” Walter perks up, suddenly inspired. “I’d bet the best time to bust outta here is during the match.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am. Figure you can scan for a path with the fewest hostiles, we could nab a nice Trident hovercraft, I could outfit it with a heat shield for the radiation, and blow up the outer walls before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

“Then I will support you. Let us try.”

“Absolutely. Tomorrow, we’re free from the Arena... y'know, you’re quite lucky to have someone as great as I am here…” Blódhundr laughs softly — another unusual occurrence.

“I love you, Walter.”

Blódhundr carefully removes their helmet. Something they haven’t done in many years. Walter is honored to witness such an event, and is taken aback by their gentle beauty. Their face is quite pale, rarely having seen the sun in any world, yet Walter sees a great passion in them. Blódhundr’s white-blue eyes meet Walter’s remaining brown, and they hold each-other close, listening to the song still playing from the phone that Elliot was kind enough to leave on the bar, desperately wanting to stay that way for all eternity. May all others take their best shot, though it's very likely that no-one in this good universe could tear them apart.

Ooh, am I the only one?

I think it might be fun

Drop everything and run

Ooh, you look so fit to kill

World explodes and I’m with you still

Hypnotized in your cherry thrill

#amreading #wattpad #books #ApexLegends #Titanfall #Fanfiction #fanfic #scifi #romance

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked.

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness.

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!”

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked.

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own.

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face.

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife.

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner.

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to.

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain.

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you.

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked,

“You ever visited the countryside princess?”

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body.

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else.

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight.

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be.

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place.

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled.

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed.

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours.

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface.

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone.

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees.

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead.

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were.

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head.

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds.

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside.

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

“... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess.

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state-

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined.

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?”

How could he have not smiled right back at you.

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs.

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life.

He had thrown his head back and laughed.

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks.

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled.

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in.

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head.

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else.

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited- for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most.

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery.

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last.

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged.

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating-

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state-

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.”

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside.

—

How do you kill a god?

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven.

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god?

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips,

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you.

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne.

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here.

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth.

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through.

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this.

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body,

“I need to pee.”

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business.

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days,

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact.

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip.

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him.

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this?

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff.

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him.

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow.

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights.

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life.

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m tired of being a god.”

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.”

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste.

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth.

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply.

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier.

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest.

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection.

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.”

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine.

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked.

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why.

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.”

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him.

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.”

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind.

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun.

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now.

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair.

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

credit- prompt list

taglist-@captainmads2092 @mahitochan @nakachuchu @bakugohoex @jotazinha @osmosly @avasparks @p-each-y-day @lilshortcakess @saturnmoon @deary-darling @menaintshit23 @tobidabio @sukuna5slut @instantnuma @kuroshitsujjiii @half-baked-biscuit @duskamethyst @sukumen @radishfern

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk smut #jjk tw #jjk angst #jjk hcs #toji angst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji fluff #gojo smut #sukuna smut #hades persephone retelling

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insomniumstella · 3 years ago

Text

hot chocolate

bucky x reader

summary: Bucky joins his crush for a late night baking session when her excitement for Christmas morning prevents the girl from sleeping.

warnings: is sickeningly sweet fluff a warning? or corniness? or soft, but somewhat smug Bucky? i’d like to think so

word count: 2,003

author’s note: it’s so sweet, i’m gonna go throw up now. seriously, how does writing rough smut evoke less emotions than this? i had to write it, however, because seeing this scene in my head was too fun and too magical, i could practically feel myself being there. anyway, merry Christmas ya filthy animals! love you and happy holidays

The clock reads 1:26am when Bucky enters the kitchen. It’s nothing short of a mess with soft Christmas music playing in the background.

“Did the kitchen elves forget to clean up or?” Y/n had recently introduced him to the beautiful thing that is Harry Potter, and much to her delight, he’s become quite a fan. The table and cabinets are covered in flour, and another brown, powdery substance Bucky can only assume, is cocoa powder. “Seriously, what happened here?” He asks, moving a pan-tray off of a bar stool and sits down. She’s holding at least 3 different kitchen utensils when she comes over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What do you think?” Y/n does a little twirl to show off her outfit, and Bucky can’t help the smile that overtakes his whole face. Fluffy slippers match her red flannel pajama pants. He briefly remembers y/n trying to buy him the same ones, but they’re so furry they're borderline ridiculous.

“It’s an outfit,” His face heats up when he notices her white, very much see-through, tank top. A breath gets caught in his throat when she steps back, and the dim kitchen lights illuminate her top just enough for him to see her hardened nipples.

“Oh, Bucky” She laughs, turning around to check on something before pulling out a jar of caramel. “No need for such flattery.” She adds after putting it down and leans against the fridge with an almost expecting look on her face.

“You look cute.” He finally gives in. “Might need to change the top though.”

“What’s wrong with my top?” They both know the pout on her face is fake. They both know she’s aware of what she’s doing, but how could Bucky protest against it when they’re not exactly dating? “Steve might get too excited seeing-“ he stands up, walking right up to where she’s at, between the fridge and the stove, and gestures to her chest, “this.”

“Oh don’t be such a fool, darling.” The overly fond sweetness in her voice is also fake. “I’m all covered up.”

Bucky begs to differ.

“The milk is burning.” He quickly changes the topic, and she almost jumps to the stove, whisking the liquid before adding what seems like a pound or two of cocoa powder into the pot and whisks it again. “What are we even making?”

“Hot chocolate.” Her words come out more like a whisper as she rummages through the cabinets to find a bag of sugar. “Can you take the cookies out of the oven?”

“Your wish is my command, princess.” Though it was meant to sound a little mocking and playful, his voice is almost serious as if him calling y/n princess was a regular occurrence. What scares Bucky about his own voice is not the seriousness but the love and warmth it radiates when he’s speaking to her. Even Steve doesn’t get that treatment.

“Always so nice.”

It’s forty minutes later when they’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, happily sipping from their steaming mugs of hot chocolate, a plate of cookies in between the two. The Christmas playlist has long ended, replaced with a video of a fireplace, and though Bucky thinks it's stupid, he doesn’t say a word when y/n puts it on because her face lights up from the noise of the crinkling fire. Though most lights are off, the warm, dull lighting of the TV and Christmas tree decorations provide just enough light to see comfortably. Golden hues illuminate y/n’s face beautifully, Bucky thinks. He doesn’t voice the thought. Instead, he smiles. After many trials and tribulations, the compound finally feels somewhat like home, and he’ll get to spend his first real Christmas since 1944 beside Steve. Everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be, except for the one thing Bucky can’t help mentioning.

“I like you.”

Y/n laughs, choking on her drink a little, and puts her cookie down. “Well, I sure hope you do. We’re teammates, after all.”

“You know exactly what I meant.”

Except she pretends not to.

“And what exactly did you mean?”

“I like you in the way-“ it’s almost as if Bucky’s scared to tell her, “that I want to be with you. Introduce you as my,” it’s been a while since he’s told anyone he wanted them, “girlfriend.” Bucky puts the plate and his mug on the table. “I want to hold your hand and buy you flowers. I don’t want to barge into your room in the mornings because I want to wake up beside you and give you a morning kiss.” There are many more things he wants to tell her, but he’s afraid to look desperate. “I want to be able to tell you to change out of that top because I’m jealous and greedy all for you. I don’t want other men looking at what’s mine.”

The words I don’t want other men looking at what’s mine cause a flutter in y/n’s lower belly. It’s unusual but welcome.

“To be fair, you workout without a t-shirt on, and that girl from the weapons department is always drooling from the sight. It’s quite a show.” Y/n shrugs her shoulder, taking a sip of her drink before putting the mug on the table too.

“Is that jealously I hear?” Bucky teases, grabbing her legs to bring y/n across the couch and close to his body, causing a high-pitched shriek from the girl.

“No.” She buries her face in his shoulder, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “I don’t get jealous.”

“Sure you don’t.” A loud laugh emits from deep within Bucky’s chest as he gently grabs her chin with his right hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I like you.”

“Thank you. I’m pretty great.”

Bucky cannot disagree with the statement because y/n is pretty great. The pleasantly warm ray of sunshine that peaks through your windows in the mornings or that first sip of coffee after a rough night. Her beauty he could only compare to the most extravagant sky, flooded with glowing stars, each more beautiful than the last. Her personality he could only describe as the rarest gem, imperfect, but so marvelous that even if it’s close to impossible to find it, you’d want to search for it anyways.

“There’s a present under the tree waiting for you.”

“Does someone need glasses? As far as I’m concerned, there’s more than one.” She teases, a playful smile on her face, except there is, in fact, a present, wrapped in a different paper than the others, under the tree. It doesn’t hold a name, yet y/n has a feeling it’s for her. The small, rectangular present, neatly hidden amongst the others. Impatient, Bucky swiftly moves from the couch to the tree, getting the gift before he’s back next to y/n, handing her the box.

“It’s not Christmas yet, is it?”

“It’s past twelve, isn’t it?” Bucky fires back, putting her legs over his lap, and leans into the couch.

Under the bow and wrapping sits a simple black box. Y/n doesn’t notice the necklace as she picks up an envelope inside and tears it open, unfolding a note.

Like the moon, I only see her at night, but it would be pretty great to have you during the day too.

“First, did you just insult my sleeping schedule? Second, what is this?”

Bucky can’t help, but let out a chuckle. “Turn the note around.”

Will you be my girlfriend?

That she ignores for now. “Was that supposed to help me understand? You see me during the day all the time. We trained together this morning.” Y/n raises a brow at him, and Bucky lets out a loud laugh this time.

“I didn’t mean to insult your sleeping schedule, though you should fix it. What I meant is that during the night you’re loving and affectionate towards me. I would’ve never thought you might like me if we didn’t start hanging out once the sun has fallen. For God’s sake, we had our first kiss at night. It’s like once the sun is up, you’re no longer interested in me. I crave to have this incredible woman in front of me to be mine during the day too.”

She ignores the word incredible. “Do I really seem uninterested in you during the day?”

“Yes.”

Bucky would’ve never expected the words that came out of her mouth next. “Good. I’m pretty sure co-workers dating is against the policy rules.”

“What policy?” Bucky has never been more confused in his life, and he’s seen more than a man ever should.

“The company’s policy? No office romances, you know?”

“Y/n, Avengers don’t have such policies. Come to think of it, we don’t really have an office either, but even if we did, the policy would only apply to other employees, not us. The one rule Tony should implement for us is to never leave the kitchen a mess.” He turns his head to look at the havoc going down in the kitchen for a moment before fixating his eyes back on hers.

Y/n had many embarrassing moments in her life, but this tops the cake. “Oh.” She mutters out. “Sorry, I’m new to this whole hero thing.” A small laugh follows after the sentence.

“Me too, doll. New to being a hero, the internet, Chinese takeout,” Bucky thinks for a moment, “love.” He senses she’s about to say something about his 1940s bachelor days, so he steps in before she has a chance to speak. “Will you be my girlfriend?” With her eyes wide open in both shock and happiness, y/n can’t gather herself to open her mouth because this moment is real and is happening right now. When she doesn’t answer, Bucky speaks again. “I solemnly swear I will never workout around Debbie from the weapons department without a shirt on.”

This catches y/n off guard. “What kind of a name even is Debbie? Was she born a hundred years ago?” Noticing her jealousy and Bucky’s faux offended expression, she gives him a smile. “Yes, I solemnly swear that I will be up to no good as your girlfriend, Bucky Barnes.” The second smile she gives him is much bigger. In fact, it’s so big it takes over her entire face. He returns her smile and y/n notices that he understood her words of I solemnly swear that I will be up to no good as your girlfriend in a much dirtier way than she intended for them to sound. “Take your mind out of the gutter.”

“You have no idea how excited I am for us to get up to no good-“ he smirks and then adds, “promise it will feel good.”

He’s about to say more, but y/n shuts him up with a kiss. She’s sure she’ll find out just how good he can make her feel later. For now, it’s only his lips that matter, so she lets the world slip away. The kiss is fiery and passionate, and loving, and y/n can’t get enough. There’s no such thing as enough Bucky Barnes. She feels Bucky reach down for something, which she figures out is a necklace when he puts it around her neck, clipping it in place with his lips still on hers. One kiss turns into two, and then it’s 10 minutes later when they finally pull away.

“Best Christmas Ever,” Bucky says, pecking her lips before remembering the war zone that is the compound’s kitchen. “How mad do you think they’d be if they woke up to this?” His hands are already wrapping around y/n’s thighs, and it’s only seconds later that they’re on their way to Bucky’s bedroom.

The answer of how mad would Avengers be if they woke up to a messy kitchen, however, is very. Yet even the anger of her teammates can’t banish the glow of last night's events. Turns out Bucky and her being up to no good does feel good. Perhaps even too good.

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