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featherandferns · 11 months ago

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orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

“Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

#JJ #JJ Maybank #JJ x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks jj #outerbanks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outerbanks jj x reader #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic

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letmeinimafairy · 1 year ago

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The making of painted stones

Well, a few times I was asked to show the process of miniature paintings on stones, and here is my first attempt to capture and explain it. Warning - I only have my phone's camera at my disposal, so the quality is not very good.

Firstly - an idea for the image. Every stone has something in its pattern that can be a starting point for developing an imagery. The stone I picked for this one is a beautiful Picasso jasper, and in this case I was looking for a stone for a specific idea I've already had in mind. Spontaneous improvisation dictated by the stone's pattern is also great but I decided to pick something more definitive for better illustrating the process.

This jasper's pattern already has outlines that can be developed into a landscape without painting it over too much. I don't like it when stones are just mindlessly covered by slapping a random image on it, ignoring the colours, textures and patterns.

Here's the idea - ruins of an amphitheatre overgrown with red gladioluses. I know, I know, but I'm very interested in the initial mystical sacrificial background of gladiators. So here it is, arena covered in red, swords in the sand, but it's finally quiet.

Before we start, a stone must be varnished - minerals are porous, and lacquer smoothes its surface. I paint with tempera - most artists who work in lacquer miniatures use oils, but tempera allows quicker process, which is important for me. I'm autistic and my executive dysfunction makes working with oils difficult - my sudden bursts of activity won't match with drying timings and such. So, tempera for me.

Starting with sketching the outlines of the ruins and painting our light source, the sun and red clouds. I'm trying to work with a palette that the stone already has and make the painting as harmonious as possible.

Erasing auxiliary lines as we continue.

Done with the first layer - the walls and the sky. After the paint dries, I apply varnish (I use Novol clearcoat, car varnish - it's very durable). There can be as many layers as you need.

Now - the flowers and details.

After the painting is finished, it'll need several layers of varnish. And some fine sandpaper (1500) in-between the finishing layers for better grip.

And here it is! time to think abou a necklace for this one.

I'm not sure how useful I can be and what aspects you would like to know, so feel free to ask. I'm not sure I can make a good enough video with my current phone, so this'll have to wait. I tried to skip all the musings about ideas and finding stories, but whatever. And the time needed for work - I don't know. There was a month-long pause in the making of this one, due to a couple of emergencies that knocked me down for some time, and it's not easy for me in general due to my mental state - sometimes I can make a painting in two days, sometimes it takes years, nothing is certain with me, especially now. But well, here's what I do.

#miniature #painted stones #rock painting #painted rocks #minerals #picasso jasper #jasper #amphitheatre #arena #gladiators #gladiolus #gladioluses #flowers #ruins #roman ruins #ancient rome #sky #my art

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k0yaz · 3 months ago

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hollow.

Pairings: furina x fem!reader

CW: sfw, female reader, vampire au, girls kissing oh no, crackfic(?), wlw, graphic mentions of violence, beginning is very up to interpretation, blood, furina being so adorable im gonna cry, macaroni :3, I made it super short bc I lost motivation since its past the deadline 💔, kinda a plot twist at the end, not proofread.

A/N: FURINAAAAAA AWAWAAAWAWA oh yeah uhm sorry about this being late but part of @edgeray ‘s Halloween event! 🕯️

All surrounding you was nothing but an endless void caging in around you, enveloping your mind as you found yourself stumbling backward. Eyes heavy, your pupils rolled back upon feeling the thick showers of rain trickle down your freezing skin, floods of endless water streams washing over the vicinity in endless pattering. It was quite evident that this time of day, especially in such blinding conditions was unsafe for many. Especially humans such as yourself who wandered mindlessly in the wild, carelessly allowing the scent of your blood to waver wherever you traveled.

The last sight that caught your eye as you stumbled back was a quick glimpse of the blackened sky adorned with dark tufts of clouds, flashes of lightning ripping through the air in sudden bursts while you squinted your eyes at the sudden shred of light flooding your sight in the blinding darkness. Your soaked clothing stuck to your skin, sending shivers through your body as the cold cloth adhered against your exposed self. Each shower of rain descending down as the gray clouds parted only seemed like a warning sign from the gods themselves, casting down an inescapable storm that would leave you vulnerable for the inhuman nightmares roaming the area to tear to shreds.

You honestly didn’t even know why you were out. The shivers racking your body paired with the purple-ish tint faintly dusted along your skin from the stinging freeze was enough to encourage you to head home. Yet, something within you screamed at every fiber in your body. Every inch of you continued to trudge forward against the force of the winds pushing against you, knowing you can’t head back home. You couldn’t head back, or you would be dead. Not even given the courtesy of being buried or having your body kept intact. Rather, you’d be reduced to an unrecognizable pulp, beaten down ruthlessly until blood painted the ground you lay on.

The mere thought of your body not being able to rest after death—possibly worse—only made you hunch inward at the disgusting fate, face dropping in pure terror. Howls of wind continued to rustle against your ears repeatedly as you bit down on your bottom lip in a pathetic attempt to try and warm up the blue tinged flesh dragged between your teeth. You hissed in a sharp breath of pain as the see though nature of your clean white shirt only exposed the splatter of blood soaking through the white cloth of your shoulder and trickling down your arm. How much longer could you handle? How much longer could you endure the bites of cold air poisoning you from the inside out as you only grew more and more exhausted from the sting.

The answer was not long. A sudden gasp escaped your lips as your knees buckled inward, causing you to release your lower lip from your teeth as a shock response to the numbness seeping through your body slowly. You sucked in a breath as you knelt down, brows knitting together in pain as your free hand served to shield the damp blood seeping through the deep wound in your shoulder. Heavy breathing rang in your ears, albeit quite loudly considering it was your own breathing emanating from your hoarse throat as your surroundings grew blurry—the stench of your fresh blood which was evidently piling up in the clearing as it stung your sensitive nostrils only serving to make you more lightheaded.

Quick rushes of a shadowy figure filled the frame of your vision, its movements being quiet and discreet as the rushes of rain only served to cloak any possible sound it could potentially produce. Its dashes back and forth only displayed in afterimages for under a millisecond as its speed only served to blind you further, making you question your sanity and whether you were hallucinating this figure. You couldn’t think long, your eyelids began to droop as you grew light from the cold engulfing you, along with the loss of blood growing exponentially and spinning your surroundings like a globe.

Thud.

Of course. It wasn’t long before your body rocked forward, slamming against the ground as blood pooled below you and patched the once spotless cloth of your shirt stuck to your skin a deep crimson. The grass below you steeled red as the tip of each green blade had a thick red gradient brushed along it. You guess that this was perhaps the end of your story. Succumbing to the cold and your wounds was the fate life had in store for you. And just like that—you relaxed yourself against the grass, rainwater thudding against the back of your limp frame sprawled out against the ground.

…

That was until your eyes shot open.

Blinking open your eyes, you found yourself weighed down by a thick blanket spread out over you, sinking you down into the mattress until your chest. The dim, golden light briefly provided a faint light to the vicinity you had awoken in, your bleary vision beginning to focus little by little as you scanned the room. A sudden surge of pain shot through your shoulder as you finally regained most of your consciousness, stinging further at sunken wound gashed onto your arm. Eyes wide, you ripped off the blanket cloaking your arm, your expression growing perplexed at the sight of your burning shoulder carefully wrapped in slightly crumpled bandages.

You breathed out a huff upon feeling a strange itch located above your collarbone, being unable to recall whether you had an injury there or not while you were in the rain. Gentle flickers of warm air rejuvenated your freezing muscles, easing the tension piled up within you. The candle flickering beside you somehow provided a flaring amount of heat for you to be able to move around normally without the hypothermic chill dragging down your body.

Two small indents were imprinted onto your throat, harboring that same itch which was bothering you from the moment you woke up. You swore those deep, tiny holes weren’t there before, raising your suspicion—and distress to a higher degree. You couldn’t help but also wonder the source of the marks on your neck, with the deep nature, along with the way both holes were a convenient distance from each other…it unmistakably resembled a bite. A bite resulting from a pair of fangs maliciously sunken into flesh, desperate for a taste.

Yet despite your conclusion, you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the creature that could’ve attacked you before you were nursed back to health in wherever the hell you were now. Scanning the room, you swallowed back your uncertainty, carefully peeling off the blankets draped over you before hovering your feet over the creaky wooden floors. You set one foot down very slowly, flinching a bit upon hearing the hollow creak of the floorboards ring throughout the vicinity.

Each ghastly ring of the floorboards pressured under your heels with every subsequent step against the floor shrouded your thoughts in a lake of uncertainty, the current sensation of utter trepidation clouding your mind as you wandered aimlessly through the perplexing twists of the hallway. Drops of wax pooled beneath the abundant candles in a small heap, dribbling down the edges they resided upon occasionally along the deep stone of the walls.

Swift afterimages of a cloaked figure mysteriously flicked back and forth in the field of your periphery, your hand instantly darting up to shield your palm along your exposed 'wound.' Swallowing back a heavy lump sunken in your throat, paranoia flooded your senses at the sight of the dark figure which had just swiftly vanished, your gaze flickering to every spotting and corner of the peculiar residence.

"Ah..you're out of bed? I thought your injuries were too awful to even move. Sorry about that, ma’am.”

The sudden feminine voice alerted you in mere moments, heart nearly jumping out of your chest from the wave of shock that overtook every fiber of your body in that instant. You spun around, being met with the perplexed expression of an alluring woman stood before you. Fluffed white hair brushed with blue streaks striped along her hair, complimenting her mismatched azure eyes. Her arms remained folded over her chest firmly as her gaze roamed over you from head to toe, lips pursed together upon it being unclear of whether you were truly well or not. The woman parted her lips to speak, before immediately curling her lip between her teeth to bite back her voice.

Drips of stray water leaked from the crevices of the ceiling, lining along the cobwebs as they dribbled down onto the floor to briefly remedy the silence. The dampening atmosphere surrounding you and the exotic being stood before you tensed your muscles, a smoke of uncertainty circling the two of you as a sort of supernatural force seemed to radiate around her, uneasiness wavering within you in the deafening silence.

“This..is awkward? Where’s the ‘thank you for saving my life?’ I just stopped you from dying and getting potentially mauled out there!” She exclaimed as a breaker, your head shooting up and growing alert to the conversation she had attempted to initiate. “Ah…right. Thank you.” You murmured awkwardly, palm still cupped over the marks slit into your throat. She delivered an over dramatic bow in return, a smug expression scribbled onto her face as she bared her fangs in a grin.

Wait…fangs?

Pausing briefly, you hovered a finger upward, slowly pointing toward her teeth. Indicating the curved ridges protruding from the corners of her teeth, you slithered your tongue to the roof of your mouth cautiously, slowly lowering your hand shielding the bite mark to observe your neck.

It almost identically mirrored the sharpened ends of her fangs.

You drew in a breath, attempting to keep your quivering voice steady as you firmly articulated your concerns before her. “Were you the one who did this..?” You inquired carefully, exposing your neck and allowing the faint lighting to add a reflective luminance against the dried out hollow wounds. She paused, grin immediately shifting to a rather hushed expression as her breath caught in her throat upon the revelation of her feeding on you. Almost in an instant, she defensively snapped back in an argumentative manner.

“Hey! Be glad it wasn’t that it wasn’t some other vampire that found you all sprawled out! I was just thirsty but I treated it after! Anyone else would’ve put you in a stove by now!”

“I’m not upset, calm down…I just wanted to know.” You responded, slightly being put at ease by her anecdote of nursing you back to health in critical condition. It was understandable as to why she’d feed on you, as you had noted behaviors of vampires from what others had told you. Typically, they’re unable to resist the minute they see even a hint of scarlet running along a human’s skin, the most frequent outcome being someone’s mangled body being discovered eventually.

However, this particular vampire didn’t seem to show any of the insatiable hunger emitted off others, and not too interested in hogging all of your blood to herself, merely a sip to quench her thirst. You stood upright and gently grazed your finger along her knuckles, freehand cupped below her wrist to gently push it up.

“You’re being genuine in the fact that you saved me?” You questioned, eyes fixated on her teardrop shaped pupils for any trace of deception. Yet they harbored none. She nodded bashfully, a faint pout contorting her features as well.

“Why would I even go as far as making macaroni for you if I didn’t..?”

“You made macaroni for me?”

“…it was literally on your bedside table are you BLIND?”

Her outburst caught you off guard, yet you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you upon seeing her swiftly whip her gaze away in a faux frustrated fashion. You smiled, taking her hand in yours and causing her to part her lips in surprise.

“Fine..just, come up with me, okay?”

She nodded hesitantly at first, but began to trail directly behind you as you renavigated your path to the room you were in. Raising your eyebrows as you turned around to face her, your hand rested on the doorknob, refraining from clicking open the door in that moment as you spoke up.

“Thank you for saving me, Furina.”

A ghastly quietness buzzed around the two of you, stunning ‘Furina’ into shock, eyes wide as her gaze remained locked onto you. She paused, confusion currently occupying her mind as it made her head fuzzy from the thickness of perplexion overtaking her. Swallowing nervously, she sharpened her tone towards you, eyelids lowering cautiously.

“How do you know my name..? I’ve never told you.”

A/N: im very sorry that I’ve been ending fics on cliffhangers/lazy writing like this bc I really need to focus on school and I’m trying to get these done in a time crunch along with the assignments in the window of time that I actually have to work on them so I’m sorry but I promise when I have free time I will definitely not slack on my fics like I did this one cause I just threw in a shock factor plot twist ending 💔

anyway did u know that I name all fics in my drafts something very interesting before actually coming up with a title just like sprites in game files so this one was named ‘I’m gonna cover myself in garlic everywhere except my kitty’ and holy shit why did I name it that.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wlw #genshin writing #genshin furina x reader #furina x y/n #furina x you #genshin impact furina #genshin furina #furina genshin #furina #furina x reader #Furina x female reader

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 8 months ago

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w.count: 2k - he who is the most patient also yearns the most

zhongli met you for the first time when you came to the harbor on a extensive, work-related trip. some sort of negotiation at the port with certain shipment partners and possible trade opportunities. you had come from port ormos in sumeru, so he imagined you would get moving onto inazuma for the same thing before long. as luck would have it, you never made it that far before the nation of electro closed its borders. so, at that point, you were now essentially stuck in land of geo for the foreseeable future.

he had run into you when you were appraising some goods that had come in with a group of merchants ; those specific good were on your list to inspect to see if they would offer anything worth decent mora. perhaps it was fate that when he had passed behind your back, he heard you murmuring something about not knowing enough about a certain vase's story painted it on with aged, chipped paint. zhongli was the walking know-it-all of liyue, so of course without prompting, he flit over to your side and explained what you were looking at for you (after scaring you since you didn't hear him walk up beside you and instead of a proper 'hello' he just jumped straight into the explanation).

from then, he would often see you at the docks. clipboard in hand or a ledger of some sort that you would be reviewing. on the rare occasion, he would just see you strolling around with nothing on your hands so he took it upon himself to occupy the free time you seemed to use by relishing in the sea breeze.

you had been in liyue for over a year when zhongli's heart dropped deep into his stomach. his very core filled with dread as you inform him that since inazuma had finally lifted their restrictions, your work would soon resume as usual. you would soon be relocated to the far-off islands of electro. the tea he had been delightfully sharing with you previously now tasted too bitter on his tongue to continue drinking at the news.

"will you ever return?" his voice was quiet, not nearly as confident and proud as he usually was. it resembled a child asking if their best friend who was due to move away would ever visit them again.

the relationship you grew into with zhongli was special to both of you. he treated you so well and educated you in things you were clueless about. you confided in him and when liyue was at risk of drowning, you were the one who he ran to first when all was settled. you still remember that night so vividly.

you were at the harbor- as usual- but instead of working, you were helping pull stranded milieth out of the sea or helping people getting further inland as the waves violently warned you of doom. when the ocean calmed and the storm clouds that plagued the sky dissipated, you felt a weight off your chest. as you checked around to make sure people were alright, you were quickly snatched away by your wrist. being dragged off to a more secluded corner of the harbor docks behind a stack of, now storm weathered, crates.

zhongli had never understood the phrase 'word vomiting', but what he told you behind those damaged and rain-soaked crates was most definitely so. his gnosis had just been traded, no longer in his possession, and he could finally, finally tell you everything. it definitely wasn't how it was supposed to happen. his whole identity spilled in the span of a several ramble while shakily holding onto your wrists like you'd float off to sea if he didn't anchor you down next to him.

"of course i'll come back." you reassure him. his hand releases it's soft grip around his teacup and lays the back of it on the table like it had given up on keep any sort of grip on anything. you understand his silent offer and place your palm on top of his. "i promise. as soon as my work in inazuma is finished and i get everything completed in sumeru, i'll come and visit you as often as i can."

feeling your pulse on the junction under the heel of your hand, he knew you were being truthful. of course, you hadn't lied to him before so he would believe anything you said regardless of the circumstances; though perhaps that was his own personal bias in a way. you could tell him you were the reason the sun rose every morning and he'd believe you- you shone so brightly in his eyes, so naturally that must be why.

you chuckle from across the table and he looks at your quizzically. you tap your fingers rhythmically across his wrist that's covered in brown fabric. your opposite arm comes to rest its elbow on the table and your palm supports your cheek.

"what me to make a contract just so you feel better?" zhongli blinks before he's craking a smile back towards yours.

"you jest too much."

"do i?"

"it's endearing."

your 'contract' is just sealed as an earnest promise he'd keep in his chest until you come back to him. on the day of your parting, zhongli kisses the back of your hand, your knuckles, and your cheek.

"for safe travels, swift work, and my sincerities," he had justified. you returned his affection with a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

"for no reason other than i want to." zhongli kisses your lips for the very same reason before you board your ship that takes you far, far away from him. he doesn't account the time he spent watching your ship sail further away with his hands behind his folded ever so neatly back until it was completely out of sight. he stares at the horizon and almost wishes that it would bring you back.

it doesn't.

so, zhongli waits.

the lord of geo has been alive for millennia, so the passage of time was something inane to him now. a few years is attuned to that of a blink in the grand scheme of his long, long lifetime. however, those years he spent without you at his side or in his shadow felt like centuries.

mortals squander their time, fleeting at it is, and they know they will never live forever. they will fill it with new things every day because it could be their last- they would never know when their time would come.

"it's been a long year" or month or day; all those phrases zhongli hears and agrees to in mundane conversations- but mostly just so he can identify and align with the masses as an unquestionable human. he never understood those phrases. yesterday was as long as today and will be as long as tomorrow and so forth.

the years you spent gone with only letters sent back and forth between the both of you made him feel closer to morality than anything else before. the days did feel longer. the years felt dragging. the months felt stretched. it felt like time was slowing down, dawdling and twiddling its thumbs while he was stuck suffering in its demanding sluggish waves.

it made him feel human. the terrible impatience for something or someone to come back home. the agony of the wait and the suspense on if it would happen at all. and while he wishes to feel closer to mortal life and connect to his people in such ways- this way- this game of time just made him irritated.

zhongli didn't remember the last time he had felt impatience so thick, but it began gnawing at his insides with the last letter he had received.

'my work has finally concluded, so i'll be coming back to liyue as soon as i send this letter out to you!'

those were your final remarks penned by your hand before it made it into his. when did you send this? a week ago? two? he didn't know. you neglected to date it. every day he goes to the harbor, checking morning, noon and evening to see what ships have sailed in and if you'd be on one. or perhaps you would be coming from sumeru by means of the west by the chasm, coming on foot and would simply waltz into the city.

zhongli didn't know and each day felt longer and longer.

it turns out, the horizon did bring you back to him. it just took it's sweet time in doing so.

out on the harbor once again, a ship was docking, and he saw you before you saw him. the back of your head moving as you help people unload their cargo and help them off the ship before you dismount yourself. it had been years since he had seen you, but he would never forget what you looked like. the features that wouldn't change.

walking- gaiting- down to the harbor's lowest levels was the giddiest he had probably felt in his whole life. antsy. his chest was a mess, it felt like farmers were tilling into his insides. as he stood off to the side of the dock, mindful not to block anyone's path into the harbor. his foot tapping, and hands opening and closing in repetition just for something to do with all his antsy jitters.

you must've spotted him when he was lost in his own mind since it was his name coming from the voice he memorized years ago that turned his head. you were leaning over a stack of crates that you were previously helping unload, waving so enthusiastically he was afraid you'd swing your arm into someone's head.

zhongli is someone who is very aware of affection in public areas with lots of eyes darting around. he was reserved in a way that he feels his affections were best left to the privacy of him and his choice partner. this day was an exception since the moment you were within his reach, you were crashing into his chest, and he was holding you prisoner there.

he could feel your pulse under his hand that held behind your neck to keep your head pushed against his chest. your warmth from the sun that had bathed you the morning voyage back to him. the smell of the sea breeze against your clothes and skin.

it was evident that you had changed over the years- an evitable happen stance he expected. you were only human after all. but you were still the same as he remembered. you were comfortable and warm and safe and here.

when zhongli finally returned some freedom to your range, which wasn't very far since his hands still settled comfortably on your hips, he mapped out exactly how you changed in comparison to his memories with his roaming gaze.

"how long will you be staying?" he asks.

"how long can liyue put up with me?" you answer and you feel his chest rumble in a chuckle under your palms that rest there. "i'm not sure yet. i plan on staying at wangshuu inn for the time though."

"nonsense." zhongli shakes his head and one of his hands leave your hip to brush the back of his knuckle against your cheek down to the corner of your mouth. "my home has more than enough space to accommodate your presence."

"i was going to ask," you pout and feel your face get hotter, but it wasn't because of the sun, "but i didn't want to feel like i was imposing."

"please do. you're more than welcome to 'impose' on me anytime you wish." you give in quickly much to his delight. you hoist your bags up, which he promptly takes from you without so much as breaking a sweat, and offers you his other arm. "we have much to catch up on."

when hu tao hears that you had come back to liyue, she suddenly isn't so upset that zhongli never returned to work that day.

#zhongli #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli blurb #zhongli genshin impact #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #zhongli scenarios #zhongli headcanons

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livwritessometimes · 6 months ago

Text

A Footnote Will Do...(For Me)

: Charles Leclerc x Reader

: So I'll just take a footnote in your life

: Part 2

: Main Masterlist

: Author's Note: I had no plans of writing this but I got this sudden urge to write some angst.....so Tada!

…

You ate at a restaurant, the host said we're cute They think we're a couple, they bought us some booze We shared the Moscato and laughed 'cause it's true To me (to me)

The air was filled with the rich aroma of spices coming from all sorts of Italian cuisines. There was a different kind of calm in the atmosphere, which was quite contrary to what the next few days had in store. It was finally time for the Italian Grand Prix, Ferrari's home race, and a very special day for the Monegasque walking besides Y/n.

Charles Leclerc, the golden boy for Ferrari, the pride and joy of Monaco, but to her, he was simply the boy she met through his younger brother. The boy Y/n was madly in love with.

People say that love comes into your life when you least expect it to. It comes in various shapes and forms: a hug from your mother when you see her after a long time; catching up with your best friend after a stressful day at work; seeing your father gloat about you to his friends. But no one told Y/n that for her, love would enter her life in a blazing red suit and a super-fast car.

Walking down a relatively empty street in Italy, Y/n felt content. Next to her was the boy of her dreams, going on and on about how an old lady earlier today had told him he reminded her of her son and gave him a free muffin. Chuckling at the Monegasque's excitement over a baked good, Y/n took a moment to take in the young boy's appearance. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, some pants and a pair of sunglasses tucked in front of his shirt, nothing extraordinary, but it felt right. He offered Y/n his hand, signaling her that they had finally reached their destination.

A beautiful restaurant hidden in the streets of Italy. Covered in greenery, the place looked like it came straight out of a painting. At the entrance, an older woman with kind eyes greeted them, smiling at the pair. She offered them one of the tables that were laid out in front of the restaurant. It was almost as if the lady knew what Y/n would have liked, as she had given them a table right next to the window. It was the perfect spot to get a glimpse of the inside of the restaurant while enjoying the serene view that surrounded them.

Thanking her, Y/n and Charles gave her their order. As soon as she was out of their site, the boy in front of her began to tell another story of how he got locked in the bathroom during one of Ferrari's meetings and how it took the entire team 2 hours to get the poor boy out. It seemed like Charles had a way of finding himself in all sorts of weird and bizarre situations. It reminds her of the first time they met.

It was Arthur's birthday, and Y/n was on her way to his party when she saw a man standing on the side of the road, asking for a ride. Y/n could see the dark clouds slowly engulfing the once clear patch of sky and decided to take pity on the man. Stopping right next to him, she got to know that the strange man was none other than the birthday boy's older brother. It seemed like fate to her; what were the odds of something like this happening? Offering him a ride, both of them began the journey back to Arthur's (and Charles') house. Y/n has had first-hand experience with these bizarre situations, because not even 10 minutes after they began their journey, it started pouring down heavily, blocking any sort of visibility there was, causing them to stop the car. So Y/n and Charles spent the next, god knows how many hours, of Arthur's birthday sitting in the car chatting away. It was also the first time Y/n felt seen, truly seen.

Focusing back on Charles' story, she noticed the lady from earlier approaching them with a bottle of wine. "For the lovely couple," she said as she poured a glass each for Charles and her. "You both look cute together; I hope you stay happy for a long time," and with that, she went back inside the restaurant. Bringing up his glass to her, Charles whispered, "Cheers to the couple, I guess." Letting out a laugh, the pair shared the bottle of wine and continued their conversation. What Charles didn't realize was how fast Y/n's heart was beating after the woman's comment, because for her, it was the truth.

You said at the party that I was too drunk I told you I liked you, you said, "Sober up" But why would I lie? It's so clear I'm in love With you

The bright lights were almost blinding, and the entire club was filled with red. Everywhere you'd look, you'll see a member of the Ferrari team celebrate their hearts out. Charles had won the Italian Grand Prix; finally, all the doubts and worries that flooded the Monegasque's mind were put to ease. He won his home race in Monaco and has now won Ferrari's home race. Y/n and Charles were here to celebrate, and celebrating is exactly what they did. Bottles after bottles, everyone was drunk beyond their minds, Y/n especially. It was as if she could not contain the joy that filled her mind seeing Charles stand at the top of the podium. After a long night of partying, the club was slowly dying down. Most of the team members had booked a cab and left the venue; some were passed out on the couch with a content expression on their faces, and the rest were still on the dance floor.

That is where Charles found Y/n. Upon seeing the boy, Y/n pulled him closer to her, and the boy instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to steady her movements. "I think you've celebrated more than me at this point," said Charles while looking down at Y/n with a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, of course, someone has to, Grand Prix Winner," Y/n said, smiling up and looking back at Charles. "Let's get you some water. It'll help you stay hydrated," he said as he began walking towards one of the sofas with his arms still around Y/n. "I think you've had one too many drinks-" Cutting him off, Y/n blurted out, "I like you." Slowly looking up to see Charles' face to see any sort of reaction from him, he said, "I think you should sober up now," and without saying another word, he began to walk towards the exit with a very drunk Y/n, who was now very aware of everything happening around her.

She was completely in her senses when Charles helped her get in the passenger seat or when he leaned over from across the driver's seat to help her with the seatbelt. The boy was so close to her that even after hours of partying, she could still catch the faint scent of his perfume. For the entire trip, Charles refused to look her in the eye, not when he helped her out of the car, or when he took off her heels, or even when he tucked her in the bed. Just as he was about to leave, Y/n reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist. "Would you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She could see the hesitation in his eyes. "Please," she said, looking up at his face, and for the first time since her abrupt confession, he looked back at her to meet her eyes. Nodding slightly, Charles sat down at the foot of the bed, and true to his words, he stayed there till Y/n dozed off.

A tense conversation, you like someone else I say, "If I waited, could that maybe help?" You told me that patience won't change how you felt For me

If Y/n thought last night was worse, then she was in for a huge surprise. The morning after was one of the worst mornings for Y/n. She woke up with a splitting headache, dazed and disoriented from last nights events, until it all came rushing back to her. Her drunken confession, Charles' behavioral change towards her. Getting out of the bed she walked towards the kitchen where she saw Charles nursing a cup of coffee in his hand looking at something on his phone. Upon hearing movement, he looked up from his phone, putting it aside he kept another cup of coffee in front of her saying "I made some for you as well, I know you'll be needing it." He smiled at her before continuing, "How's the headache?" He questioned. "I've had better days," Y/n said before taking the cup of coffee and thanking the Monegasque.

"So about last night…" Charles started, and there it was, the dreadful moment Y/n was hoping to avoid. "…I had no idea you felt that way," Charles said before looking at her. "Y/n, I'm actually seeing someone…for a while now," and with those 9 words, Charles had shattered Y/n's heart into pieces. Y/n could not believe it; they were perfect; everyone could see it. So why is it that the boy she was madly in love with could not see how good they both were together? "I'm really sorry, Y/nn, but I don't feel that way about you," Charles said with a genuine look behind his eyes. In a desperate effort to hold onto this idea Y/n had created about the both of them, she said, "If I waited, would that help? Would that change things?" The hole in her heart grew bigger and bigger with each passing second that Charles didn't answer. Letting out a sigh, he said. "Y/n, even if you waited, it's not gonna change how I feel about you. I'm sorry, but I've always seen you as a great friend," Charles said, and with that gone was the future of them together; empty was the house they were supposed to move into after a few years of dating; dead was the flower garden they both would have spent hours trying to maintain; forgotten were the children they would have eventually had; lost was the life they would have shared.

So I'll stop being pretentious and loathing our friendship You taught me a lesson, that feelings are reckless It's just like the novels, side characters end up alone

It is observed that friendships that start because someone expresses a romantic interest tend to take on a different meaning once the feelings involved in the situation are gone. Empty, distant, and disregarded, that is what Y/n felt. Ever since Charles told her that he did not reciprocate her feelings, something inside Y/n died. Gone was the girl who always paid attention to Charles, who, even in a room full of people, always had one eye on him. Gone was the girl who tried to impress the boy she was in love with. Instead, she started to loathe the fragments that were left of their friendship. They no longer met up. No longer did they have their phone calls that lasted for hours on end.

True to his words, Charles was in fact seeing someone; someone he officially announced his relationship with 2 weeks after their fallout, or at least that is what Y/n likes to call that morning in Italy. Charles taught Y/n what love actually was and how beautiful the feeling can be. Charles is also the person who taught her how reckless feelings can actually be. It's messy and complicated. It's the girl not getting the guy; it's the golden boy meeting his girl next door. It's just like the novels, where the side character always ends up alone, forgotten somewhere in the background of the main character's story.

So I'll just take a footnote in your life And you could take my body Every line I would write for you But a footnote will do A footnote will do

Standing at the Ferrari garage, Y/n could feel everyone's excitement. Charles had won yet another Grand Prix. Everyone rushed out of the garage, heading towards the barrier to celebrate with him, Y/n could see Charles getting out of his car and running to where she was standing. He was just a few metres away from them when he opened his arms and started running towards them. Y/n almost thought he was coming over to hug her, but just as she was about to let her imagination get the best of her, reality came crashing down on her again. Charles leaped into the arms of his girlfriend, the same girl next door she lost him to. The girl who has a polite smile and a kind heart. The girl who he now shares a puppy with. It reminded Y/n of her place in his life; no longer was she a priority for him. She was merely a footnote in his life now; gone was the time where she would have been a chapter or few in his books, but for her, he had been the entire story; the start, the middle, and the end.

Every line she wrote, she wrote for him, but now all she can afford is a footnote in his life.

But a footnote will do. A footnote will do for her.

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azrielslightintheshadows · 1 year ago

Note

Hello :) I've recently found your blog and read everything AT LEAST thrice. I adore your writing <3 May I request a one-short, Azriel and Reader being Wayyy too into PDA, like pausing training to cuddle standing up while everyone else is training in front of them, and Azriel is kissing up her neck n all.

Reader sitting in his lap during dinner with the inner circle while they feed each other, giggling, whispering sweet nothings, stealing kisses with each other in front of everyone and Azriel has a wing around her to keep her warm.

Like they just have to be touching each other all the time.

Also, Cass is fake-gagging at them while he is training others. And Rhys is traumatized cause they didn't put their mental shield up, and he can hear all the *dirty* thoughts they are having for each other. Those thoughts are loud as hell and he is basically like, "Really? In front of my dinner?" While side-eyeing them through dinner. That was a long one heh. Fingers crossed I sparked an idea for you and it wasn't just me rambling

Honeymoon phase.

Azriel x f!Reader.

Warnings; suggestive

Masterlist

Thank you so much! I hope this is what you had in mind! Please let me know if you want me to rewrite it.

“Lift your elbow” Azriel ordered and ducked when you threw a punch.

You were on the roof of the house of wind training with your mate while Cassian was training the Valkyries on the other side.

“That’s it! Very well” he praised you.

You smiled proudly and he engulfed you in his arms. You pressed your cheek on his chest and rubbed his back as he held you. Your mate sighed and leaned down and started kissing your neck making you leave a small moan.

“Oh come on we are training” Cassian exclaimed and made a gagging noise.

“Sorry Cassie” you shouted and pushed your mate away but quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him for a last sloppy kiss.

You and Azriel met 70 years ago so the mating bond wasn’t new, but you never left the honeymoon phase. You couldn’t stay away from each other, if you could become one you probably would.

You finished training and left hand in hand making Cassian snort. After bathing together, you enjoyed your lunch and went to the river house, Azriel had to brief Rhysand on some mission, and you wanted to hang out with Feyre and Mor.

“Have fun” he told you and captured your lips with his own before climbing up the stairs that led to Rhysand’s office.

“I can’t get used to this side of him” Mor spoke from behind you.

“He is the sweetest” you smiled and took a seat on the big couch.

“He is desperately in love” Feyre said and giggled.

“Girl, trust me when I say that this man looked like he was going to murder everyone all the time. I don’t think that I ever saw him smile before he met y/n.” Mor exclaimed.

You tried to hide your grin but failed miserably making Feyre and Mor burst into laughter.

“And let’s not get started on the PDA” Mor shook her head.

“Enough! Let’s talk about something else.” You whined and the girls began teasing you even more.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Feyre was talking about her new painting when a pair of hands covered your eyes, the spicy yet sweet scent of your mate clouded your senses and you shuddered.

“Hey love” you giggled, and he removed his hands.

“Hey” he grinned and leaned down to kiss you.

“Who are you and what did you do to Azriel?” Mor shouted and Azriel gave her a vulgar gesture.

“See? He wouldn’t even acknowledge me before” she threw her hands in the air.

You shook your head and got up. “See you at dinner”.

Your mate placed his hand on your waist and guided you outside.

You spent the rest of the day cuddling in bed enjoying each other’s company. Days like this were rare, most of the time Azriel was away because of his missions and you helped Madja at her infirmary, so when you had free time you made sure to spend every second together.

“We have to get ready for dinner” you whispered and tried to push him off you.

“We still have a few minutes” he mumbled and kissed your naked chest before going further down.

“We will be late” you hummed.

“Let me just have a taste” he whined.

“I will let you do anything you want when we come back” you cupped his jaw and pulled him up giving him a soft kiss.

“Anything?” he quirked a brow.

“Anything” you nodded, and he jumped out of bed.

“Let’s go” he said and opened the closet to find an outfit for dinner making you laugh and shake your head.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You walked in the dining room and Cassian’s eyes flashed with mischief.

“What?” you asked, and he sat on your usual seat next to Azriel’s ,leaving his own on the other side of the table free.

Azriel rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, leading you to his seat and pulling you on his lap and draping a protective wing around you.

“Oh no” Cassian mumbled and got up. Azriel’s shadows grabbed the empty chair and removed it from the room.

“I guess you have to sit next to us” your mate smiled at the warlord who paled.

Everyone looked at Cassian and burst into laughter knowing that soon enough you two would start touching each other and he would have to eat with the scent of your arousal.

Azriel was lost deep in his conversation with Rhys and you feared that his food would get cold so you grabbed his fork and stabbed a piece of steak.

“Here baby” you said and brought it to his lips.

“Thank you” he smiled and gave you a quick kiss before eating.

You watched his full lips and the way his jaw flexed as he chewed and almost moaned. Azriel noticed and smirked before moving his hand to rest it on your thigh and rub small circles. You kept feeding him and kissing him between bites. Every time you stared at his face while he ate his hand moved higher making you squirm on his lap and ground on his bulge. He quickly covered the moan that escaped with a cough and Cassian almost spat his wine.

Your arousal was evident and as both of you stripped each other with your eyes Rhysand gagged.

“Are you serious? Here?” he groaned and grabbed his head.

You stared at him wide-eyed and Azriel chuckled.

“I’m so happy for your creative sex life but please stop thinking about it on my dinner table” he whined, and Feyre caressed his arm.

You stopped grinding your hips and focused on your food before Azriel leaned forward and whispered in your ear.

“So anything huh?”

Rhysand’s eyes snapped to you and Cassian tensed.

“Yes my love” you whispered back and kissed his neck making Rhys scoff.

Azriel kissed your shoulder and pushed you off him before getting up too.

“Well next time don’t get offended if we don’t join you for dinner.” He said and slapped your ass as you hurried to your room.

“If you don’t want to hear them having sex I think we should move to the river house” Cassian mumbled and everyone jumped on their feet.

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c1qfxugcgy0 · 6 months ago

Text

adventures in QA

(previous post in this series)

My shop in Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing (AMCW) at Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) is at the very end of the composite fabrication building. Hundreds of people carefully lay up a hundred foot long slab of carbon fiber, cure it, paint it, and then we totally fuck it up with out of spec holes, scrapes, primer damage, etc. The people who write up our many defects are from the Quality Assurance (QA) department.

Every single screw and rivet on a LAM aircraft can be traced back to the mechanic who installed it. Back when even everything was done in pen and pencil, it was joked that the paper used to produce an aircraft outweighed the plane itself. Now that everything is computer-based, of course, the amount of paperwork is free to grow without limit.

(Haunting the factory is endless media coverage of an emergency exit door plug popping out of an Advanced Smallbody - Upengine (ASU) plane during a routine flight a few months ago. Unlike that airframe's notorious problems with MCAS, this was a straightforward paperwork screwup by a line worker: the bolts were supposed to be tightened, and they weren't.

As a result the higher ups have visited hideous tribulations on non-salaried workers. Endless webinars, structured trainings. Here at the Widebody plant we have received a steady flow of refugees from the Narrowbody factory, hair-raising tales of receiving one hundred percent supervision from the moment they clock in to the second they clock out from FAA inspectors who can recommend actual jail time for any lapse in judgement.)

A single hydraulic bracket Installation Plan (IP) is around four brackets. The team leads generally assign two bracket IPs per mechanic, since each bracket set is something like a foot apart, and while working on the plane is bad enough it's much worse to have another mechanic in your lap.

Let me list the order of operations:

One: Find where you're supposed to install these brackets. This is harder than you might think.

Firstly, it's a hundred foot long plank of carbon fiber composite, with longitudinal stringers bonded to it to add stiffness. The stringers are pilot drilled in the trim and drill center, a truly Brobdingnagian CNC mill that trims off the composite flash at the edges and locates and drills part holes for us. But there's a lot of holes, so you must carefully find your set.

A minor difficulty is that the engineering drawings are laid out with the leading edge pointing up, while the wing panels in our cells hang from the trailing edge. Not so bad, you just rotate the paper 180 when orienteering, then rotate it back up to read the printed labels.

A major difficulty is that the drawings are from the perspective from the outside of the panel. But we work on the inside of the wing (obviously, that's where all the parts are installed) so we also flip the drawings and squint through the back of the paper, to make things line up.

Large Aircraft Manufacturer has a market cap of US$110 billion, and we're walking around the wing jig with sheets of paper rotated 180 and flipped turnways trying to find where to put brackets.

Oh well, we're paid by the hour.

Two: Match drill the aluminum brackets to the carbon fiber composite stringer. I can devote an entire post to the subtleties of drilling carbon fiber, but I can already tell that this post is going to be a miserable slog, so I will merrily skip over this step.

Three: Vacuum up all the carbon dust and aluminum swarf created during this process. This step is not optional, as your team lead will remind you, his screaming mouth clouding your safety glasses with spittle at a distance of four inches. LAM is very serious about FOD. Every jet airliner you've ever ridden in is a wet wing design-- each interstitial space is filled with Jet A. There is no fuel bladder or liner-- the fuel washes right over plane structure and wing hardware. Any dirt we leave behind will merrily float into the fuel and be sucked right into the engines, where it can cause millions in damage. No place for metal shavings!

If you are nervous about flying, avoid considering that all the hydraulic lines and engine control cables dip into a lake of a kerosene on their way from the flight deck to the important machines they command. Especially do not consider that we're paid about as much per hour as a McDonalds fry cook to install flight-critical aviation components.

Four: Neatly lay out your brackets on your cart, fight for a position at a Shared Production Workstation (SPW) (of which we have a total of four (4) for a crew of thirty (30) mechanics) and mark your IP for QA inspection as Ready To Apply Seal.

Four: Twiddle your thumbs. Similarly, we have three QA people for thirty mechanics. This is not enough QA people, as I will make enormously clear in the following steps.

Five: Continue waiting. Remember, you must not do anything until a QA person shows up and checks the box. Skipping a QA step is a “process failure” and a disciplinary offense. From the outside, you can observe the numerous QA whistleblowers and say “golly, why would a mechanic ever cut a corner and ignore QA?” Well...

Six: QA shows up. Theoretically, they could choose to pick up the mahrmax you prepared for them and gauge every single hole you've drilled. But since we're three hours into the shift and they're already twenty jobs behind, they just flick their flashlight across the panel and say “looks good" and then sprint away. Can't imagine why our planes keep falling out of the sky.

Seven: Apply the seal to the bracket. P/S 890 is a thick dark gray goop that adheres well to aluminum, carbon fiber, fabric, hair and skin. Once cured, it is completely immune to any chemical attack short of piranha solution, so if you get any on yourself you had better notice quick, otherwise it'll be with you as long as the layer of epidermis it's bonded to. LAM employees who work with fuel tank sealant very quickly get out of the habit of running their hands through their hair.

Eight: Now you wait again. Ha ha, you dumb asshole, you thought you were done with QA? No no, now you put up the job for QA inspection of how well you put the seal on the bracket. Twiddle your thumbs, but now with some urgency. The minute you took the bottle of seal out of the freezer, you started the clock on its "squeeze-out life." For this type of seal, on this job, it's 120 minutes. If QA doesn't get to you before that time expires, you remove your ticket, wipe off the seal, take another bottle out the freezer, and apply a fresh layer.

Nine: Optimistically, QA shows up in time and signs off on the seal. Well, you're 100 minutes into your 120 minute timer. Quickly, you slap the brackets onto the stringer, air hammer the sleeve bolts into position, thread nuts onto the bolts, then torque them down. Shove through the crowd and mark your IP "ready to inspect squeeze out"

Ten: Let out a long breath and relax. All the time sensitive parts are over. The criteria here is "visible and continuous" squeeze out all along the perimeter of the bracket and the fasteners. It is hard to screw this up, just glop on a wild excess of seal before installing it. If you do fail squeezeout, though, the only remedy is to take everything off, throw away the single-use distorted thread locknuts, clean everything up and try again tomorrow.

Eleven: QA approved squeeze out? Break's over, now we're in a hurry again. By now there's probably only an hour or two left in the shift, and your job now is to clean off all that squeeze out. Here's where you curse your past self for glopping on too much seal. You want to get it off ASAP because if you leave it alone or if it's too late in the shift and your manager does feel like approving overtime it'll cure to a rock hard condition overnight and you'll go through hell chipping it off the next day. You'll go through a hundred or so qtips soaked in MPK cleaning up the bracket and every surface of the panel within three feet.

Twelve: Put it up for final inspection. Put away all your tools. (The large communal toolboxes are lined with kaizen foam precisely cut out to hold each individual tool, which makes it obvious if any tool is missing. When you take a tool out, you stick a tool chit with your name and LAMID printed on it in its place. Lose a tool? Stick your head between your legs and kiss your ass goodbye, pal, because the default assumption is that a lost screwdriver is lurking in a hollow "hat" stringer, waiting to float out and damage some critical component years after the airplane is delivered.)

One tool you'll leave on your cart, however, is the pin protrusion gage. There is a minimum amount of thread that must poke outside of the permanent straight shank fastener's (Hi-Lok) nut, to indicate that the nut is fully engaged. That makes sense. But there's also a maximum protrusion. Why?

Well, it's an airplane. Ounces make pounds. An extra quarter inch of stickout across a thousand fasteners across a 30 year service life means tons of additional fuel burnt. So you can't use a fastener that's too long, because it adds weight.

On aluminum parts, it's hard to mess up. But any given composite part is laid up from many layers of carbon fiber tape. The engineers seemed to have assumed that dimensional variation would be normally distributed. But, unfortunately, we buy miles of carbon fiber at a time, and the size only very gradually changes between lots. When entire batches are several microns oversize, and you're laying up parts from fifty plies and an inch thick, you can have considerable variation of thickness on any given structural component. So you had better hope you had test fit all of your fasteners ahead of time, or else you'll be real sorry!

And, if you're really lucky, QA will show up five minutes before end of shift, pronounce everything within tolerance, then fuck off.

And that's how it takes eight hours to install eight brackets.

#avgeek #large aircraft manufacturer

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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the girl next door 21

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

It isn’t until you hear the front door that you leave your bed. Much of the morning you’ve spent listening to the buzz of your mom and Steve’s murmurs. They’re plotting their surprise and you’re left to suffocate in anxiety. You can’t think of anything they might be planning.

You get up and gently open your door. You tiptoe into the hall and peek into the kitchen. No one’s there. The bathroom door is closed and you hear your mother’s cough from inside. That reassures you somewhat.

You continue down the hall and stop by the front door. Once more, the drone of Steve’s deep timber cuts through the walls. You lean over to peek through the window beside the door, tugging the edge of the curtain back with a single finger.

Just at the threshold of your mom’s lot, Steve stands with his broad back to you. You glimpse two figures on the other side of him; blonde, primped, and pretty. It’s Marge and Callie from the HOA. They hand something to him and he examines it as he bends his neck. Their voices drift in through the screen but the words are obscured by distance.

Marge plays with the perfect flip at the bottom of her hair and Callie pushes out one hip. You wonder if they’ve hand delivered their first rebuke. Oddly, their interaction doesn’t seem tense.

The women preen up at Steve and finally walk off. He watches after them, shifting on his feet, then turns and marches up his walk. You get a better look at what’s in his hand as he diverts and stop on the other side of the low fence. You strain to keep sight of him around the trim of the window. It’s a tupperware container. He dumps it in the bin and grimaces, letting the lid fall back down heavily.

You back up as you hear the bathroom door. Your turn and sniff, rubbing your temples as you drag your feet along the hallway. She emerges in a cloud of hairspray and perfume. You crinkle your nose at her.

“Morning,” you babble dumbly.

“Would you hurry up,” she sneers, “we gotta be going soon.”

“Right, sorry, mom, I was just--”

“Just putting something on,” she snaps. “Steve’s gone to get dressed then he’s back to drive us.”

She brushes past you roughly and you peer after her as she goes into the kitchen and pours what’s left in the coffee pot into a mug. She tuts and shakes her head as she drinks tediously around her painted lips. The makeup and hair suggest that jeans really aren’t an option.

You return to your room and scour your dresser and closet. You don’t have much more than handmedown jeans and tee shirts. Like everything else about you, clothes are an afterthought. You only have that dress.

You change into the polkadot dress. It doesn’t fit any better than last time. It’s too hot for a sweater as a sheen already settles over your forehead. You peek out before you cross the hall. You think your mom is done in the bathroom.

You brush your teeth and wash your face, going through the basic steps of your routine. You never do very much. You wrangle in your hair as best as you can but you still feel inadequate. You step back into the hall as your mom’s footfalls stomp closer.

She’s in a green satin dress. The forest tone is muted but the cut is elegant and the fabric expensive. You haven’t seen her in anything that nice since before her diagnosis. Together with her hair and makeup, and the necklace around her neck, she doesn’t look sick at all.

“Oh, mom, you look pretty,” you say.

“Yes, yes, move,” she elbows into the bathroom, “I have to touch up.”

You nod and your cheeks pinch. You flit back to your bedroom and search the little basket in your top drawer. You find the silver bow pin and weave it into your hair. It’s better than nothing. You shrug. You don’t have any other jewellery really.

You close your door and wait in your room as your mom snaps and slams around in the bathroom. Her footsteps thump down the hall then click back up in heels. She sounds like she’s pacing. She only stops as the front door opens and you hover on the foot of your bed.

Your mother holler’s your name and you stand up. You come out and scurry down the hall. You pick out the brown strappy sandals that don’t really go with your dress. Your other option is sneakers and you don’t think she’d be very happy about that.

“Well, you two look lovely,” Steve praises as he stands just inside the door.

You murmur a thanks and look up. He’s wearing a blue suit and his hair is combed and style neatly. Your eyes round as you look between him and your mom. You’re underdressed to a painful degree.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks as he checks his watch, “we gotta be there by ten.”

“Ready,” your mother chimes.

Steve backs up and opens the door as he steps out onto the porch. He holds it as your mom struts through and you follow as you cross your arm over your stomach and rub your arm. He beams at you as you try shrink into nothing.

You follow your mom up the walk and to Steve’s car pulled up at the curb. As you stand at the passenger side and Steve strolls up behind you, your mom leans in and lowers her voice to a harsh whisper, “pull your dress up.”

She pinches the strap and you look down. You gulp and try to adjust it to cover more of your chest. You really don’t know when they got so... big. You turn away as Steve passes and goes around the back end. As you tug on your dress, he glances over and you make a face, caught in the adjustment. His cheek ticks and he quickly looks away and strides up the other side. The door unlock with a click.

“Alright, ladies,” his opens his door, “today’s the day.”

You get into the backseat as his declaration rings in your ears. The day? What day? You lift yourself and push your skirt under you as it catches behind your bum and you drop down, your chest bouncing with the motion and you once more tug on the flimsy fabric.

Your eyes are drawn up as Steve fixes the mirror and you meet his eyes in the reflection. Can he see you? You quickly avert your gaze out the window and pull on the seat belt. Your stomach is roiling like a steaming pot. You don’t like surprises.

🏠

The large metal letters above the romanesque entry read ‘CITY HALL’. You walk behind Steve and your mom as they enter through the double doors. Their pace is urgent and they are quiet with anticipation. You do your best to keep up though you wonder if they even remember you’re there.

The twists and turns past the plaques that delineate different departments and arrows the point to others has you disoriented. Why are you here anyway? It seems like important stuff for adults. Well, you are an adult too.

You join a queue inside an office with windowed walls. You hadn’t been paying attention when you entered. You crowded your mom and Steve as you try to stay away from the person behind you. The line moves slowly as the clerks behind glass call numbers out to bring up the next person.

“Rogers, Steve,” Steve declares as he steps up and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, then recites your mother’s name.

“Oh, yes, the Judge will see you in private chambers,” the man in the booth says, “your witnesses?”

“Got one, the other is on his way,” Steve tuts and lifts his wrist, checking the time, “he will be here by ten.”

“Alright, you just want to go to your left and curl around this desk. You’re in Chamber Three,” the clerk directs and hands back the paper, “congratulations.”

Steve nods and backs up. As he turns, your mother clings to his hand and he slowly closes his fingers around hers. He glances back as you follow, careful not to tread on his heels. You furrow your brow. It sounds like...

“Surprises,” Steve chuckles as he stops before a door marked with a number three and lets go of your mom, “we’re getting married.”

Your mom steps into the open doorway and you stop just outside as Steve lingers by the frame. You gape up at him, speechless. He smiles and rubs your arms.

“We’re gonna be one big happy family,” he says, “I’m gonna take care of you and mom.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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cera-writes · 8 months ago

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First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance… it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

#xmen #x men 97 #cera writes #kurt wagner x you #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner fic #nightcrawler x reader #nightcrawler

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witchthewriter · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Warnings: mentions of characters’ trauma, minor spoilers??? I’ll try and keep them limited

a/n: I’ll try to stay as spoiler free as possible! I loved season 2, some bits were a kinda touch and go, but overall I think they made it really interesting. Also I’m not including Wylan, sorry! I love him but ... I just don’t wanna add him...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲: Going along with a plan that Kaz had created, your role was to help the Crows on an extremely difficult heist. But your job somehow ended up being linked with your crush; the very crow that makes your heart flutter. Your persona is their new wife/husband, who has a “rich father”. Meaning that you have to stay in a nearby hotel as a couple on their honeymoon.

𝐊𝐚𝐳

・His faked joyful smile dropped once the bellboy left the room

・Watching him, you saw his calculated movements - the way he rested his cane against the desk, and took two steps to sit down on the bed

・His gloves stayed on as he said, “I’m sorry there’s one bed. Too suspicious otherwise.” Kaz’s tone was even, but it hitched on the word ‘suspicious’.

・You knew Kaz hated physical contact, hells, he hated when someone stood too close

・In that moment, you didn’t know how to respond, surely Kaz, Bastard of the Barrel, wasn’t going to sleep on the floor. The absence of a couch was obvious, and you knew he had to sleep somewhere comfortable because of his leg

“Kaz, I can take the floor. I know physical contact isn’t an easy thing for yo-”

“No, I’m fine.” He cut you off, a sharp look in his eye. You could see that his mind was somewhere else. Somewhere dark.

・The night was awkward to start off with, like two magnets being pulled and pushed apart

・But then you asked about the plan - getting all the details. Well, what you thought were all the details.

・He loosened up when he was able to talk about logical subjects

・Once you realised that, the atmosphere started to ease and you could see Kaz start to relax ... (his version of relaxing)

・With each hour a piece of Kaz’s clothing was taken off. His jacket, his shoes. As if he was slowly getting ready for bed.

・There was always something heavy in the air though, like something was unspoken. It hung like grey clouds, ready to let rain fall

・But time ticked by, and eyes began to feel heavy

・At first you both laid down and kept a pillow between you, but then there was hardly any room to move.

・So you came up with the idea that you could sleep the other way. Instead of your heads at the top of the bed, they now rested on the sides. It meant your feet were dangling off the side, but it gave you and Kaz a lot of room.

“Do not tell anyone about this.”

“Kaz...you know I wouldn’t.”

・His voice was low when he said: “I know.”

・In the morning, when you awoke, Kaz was already awake. Already planning.

“I got you some breakfast.”

𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐣

・It was you who said you would sleep elsewhere.

・You were so close to falling in love with Inej, and she had no clue. The sore joke was that she felt the exact same. And neither of you thought the other even cared.

“It would be too obvious if we weren’t sleeping in the same bed. I have a feeling they’re already suspicious of something.”

・Even if that wasn’t the truth, you didn’t care. When was an opportunity like this going to arise?

・Kaz didn’t need either of you tonight, so you were both able to unwind. But past experiences meant neither of you could fully do so unless you were in your trusted homes.

・The room was quite spacious; painted white and pale blue, it felt completely different to hotels in Ketterdam (which were dark, dingy and usually had a weird smell.)

・This one had a balcony that overlooked the famous lake that ran through the clean city

・The bathroom matched the colours of the rest of the room, with a rectangular window that let in the morning light but was high enough that no one would be able to see in.

・It was a gorgeous room; airy, light and inviting. Exacly what you thought a summer holiday would be

“Nina would absolutely love this,” you called from the lounging room. Where stacks of books, games and other various entertaining devices lay.

“I almost feel bad...” Inej trailed off, appearing right behind you (scaring the sh*t out of you).

・There was a wordless conversation between the two of you, where you hinted at sleeping on the lounge. But Inej shook her head.

・Too suspicious. What if they walk in?

・You were glad she was okay with it

・And when the night was late, and you couldn’t stop yawning, Inej laughed and motioned toward the bed

“You don’t snore do you?” You asked, with a wry grin. You knew the Wraith didn’t snore. She barely made a sound during her waking hours.

“Of course I do-” she replied, catching onto the irony

・When you were in bed, Inej faced outward, but for some reason you decided to grasp onto this opportunity

“Inej, why are you a Crow?”

・From then on you kept talking. Face to face, her brown eyes capturing yours.

・You both spoke low, as if someone was trying to hear

・Neither of you wanted to stop talking, or to stop asking the next question. Like either of your lives depended on it, you kept trying to know more.

・It wasn’t until Inej stifled a large yawn that you both decided sleep was needed

・And the next morning, you found yourself in the same position - facing Inej, and she hadn’t moved either. But your hands must have drifted in the night, because they had clasped together

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬

・Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to have the bed. And without a couch in the room, he offers to sleep on the floor - far away from you to be as respectful as possible.

“Don’t be stupid,” you retort, flinging yourself on the bed. You pat the space next to you and he blushes. Deeply.

・The giant of a man moved the bags out of the way and flared his nostrils

“Have we not established a relationship based on trust, dear Helvar?”

・He rolled his eyes at you. An occurance that happened all too often.

・But you knew him. More than he thought you did, however, you were always still blown away by his gentle ways. There wasn’t a time when he didn’t open a door for you, or helped you up or down from high places. But his kindness didn’t stop there

・He always stood in front of you whenever there was danger.

・And made sure you were never left alone in dangerous situations.

・If someone tried anything with you, Matthias was there to step in.

・Jesper started calling him your bodyguard

・And although all these things happen, you still didn’t think Matthias was attracted to you.

・You were never the traditional beauty. So you didn’t think someone like Matthias, who was this godlike man, would ever be interested in you

・And the fact that you were his pretend wife/husband, created endless flutters in your stomach. A feeling that was foreign, until you met Matthias.

“Are you hungry?” Matthias asked, dropping to unzip something from his bag.

“Oh no no, I’m okay-”

“I could hear your stomach rumbling from here.” Matthias grinned, and passed you some dried jerky that he bought from a vendor hours before

・He was always doing things like that. Thinking of you and what you might need...or want.

・You couldn’t help but blush. Even though you tried to keep up your jaunty attitude, you ... couldn’t

・And when he sat on the end of the bed, nibbling on his piece of jerky, and asking about you, your heart was beaming

・After an hour, Matthias still hadn’t moved and you realised you had to tell him what was okay.

“Move up here,” once again you patted the space next to you.

・You had wriggled underneath the blanket and watched Matthias take of his shoes and get into bed

・Your heart was in your throat. A thumping, fluttering mess.

・You started up the conversation, as he turned over to face you

・When your eyes began to droop, and Matthias started mumbling when he spoke, you two fell asleep in the King sized bed.

・You thought you were the first to wake, but you could hear the change in Matthias’ breathing

・However, you tried not to move as well. His strong arms had moved you onto his chest, and there you lay. Your head exactly where his heart was.

・At times you could feel him rub your back and those goddamn tingles never left your body

𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫

・You already know this cheeky motherf*cker is grinning like a chesire cat

“I guess even fate wants us together...”

“If by ‘fate’ you mean Kaz, and by ‘wants us together’ you mean doing our job. Then yeah Jesper, that’s exactly what’s happening.”

・Your exterior was hard, but inside you were melting. Ever since meeting Jesper your insides melted whenever he was near.

・Inside the room, you turned to put your weapons on the bedside table. Twin daggers, your personalised gun, a small knife you always kept in your boot (you put that one underneath your pillow) and small hatchet that you usually kept on your back.

“There’s something quite comedic about this-” Jesper said, with his legs up on the bed, boots gleaming, and his arms around his head.

“If you don’t take your goddamn shoes off the bed-” you countered, with a small fury.

“Ooh, yes boss,” Jesper complied with a grin.

・It was a battle, trying to keep that stupid smile off your face. Somehow Jesper was always able to bring it out

・You didn’t have ocd, but you did have problems with outside clothes coming into contact with inside items. Jesper was used to the Ketterdam life, so keeping things clean was always difficult.

・The room was cosy, and a fire was lit. A steady flame burned while you and Jesper talked about your next actions.

・But somehow the conversation took a turn and you were talking about yourselves, your backgrounds and lives.

・Time flew by as you spoke, and soon night turned into day.

・The once roaring fire had dwindled into ashes and it wasn’t until Jesper yawned that you realised.

・You were going to shout obscenities but there was a knock at the door

“Did we just...?”

“Yeah! Sh*t, Fuc-”

“Wake up call!”

𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐚

・She gave a hearty laugh before looking at you with a sly grin. But her attention was grabbed by the food menu

“Ooh, I hope they have waffles...”

・Completely unbothered by having to share a bed with you

・Behind her bravado is a heart that has been captured by you. She’s just very good at hiding it.

・You, on the other hand, are a bit more quiet. Well, anyone is quiet compared to Nina (with the exception of Jesper).

・So you are a bit hesitant when it comes to showing emotions. Especially since you’re afraid of seeming weird. Growing up, you had heard that word to describe you many times

“We don’t have to share a bed, it’s okay if you don’t want to,” Nina says after a heavy silence. Her eyes flick toward you, a half grin appearing on her face. It was almost ... sad?

・You shake your head, “no no, it’s fine.” Inside you are DYING. Nina?? Sad??? You would burn the world to the ground before you made her sad.

・Perking up (slightly, as she’s never truly sad), Nina moves through the room, looking at all the objects and items. Scowling at the lack of entertainment.

“Really, Kaz could have picked a nicer place...”

・Pulling out a waffle that you had saved from breakfast earlier, you turned around and held it high in the air.

“I have saved thy favourite snack. Please take this as a token of my friendship,” you bowed slightly and waited for her reaction.

・Nina bowed low in response, a large grin on her pale face.

“I accept thy token, with immense gratitude.”

・But the act was quickly forgotten about as she squealed and ran over to you.

・ “I don’t know how well it’s going to taste...” You mumbled, showing the crumbled waffle.

・Nevertheless, you were now her favourite person.

・And the night was one you would always remember

・Like a sleepover with your best friend, you felt like you had known Nina since childhood

・The next morning, you were the first to wake.

・Tangled together Nina’s arms were firmly wrapped around you, snuggling her form closer to yours.

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iridescent-flowers · 2 months ago

Text

Con La Brisa (Leviathan x GN!Reader)

Leviathan x Reader

Tags: Romantic fluff, takes place on the beach and in water

Word Count: 2,849

Summary:

With the new skill you recently mastered, you plan to surprise Levi with a date underwater.

[✨Likes, Comments & Reblogs are supper appreciated!✨]

Notes: This work is also available on Ao3, feel free to leave kudos, comment or read there if you prefer Ao3 more ❤️

I forgot to add this in the original Ao3 post, but I was really inspired by the song from underwater scene in wakanda forever. So, I'd play the song on loop every time I was writing this. Feel free to give it a listen before, after, or during your reading session.

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

It’s been a while since you and Levi last saw each other for reasons that he understood as well. For one, you were up in The Human World, tending to your regular life while you were on a break from the student exchange program. And for another, there were certain duties you had to fulfill as Solomon’s most promising apprentice. In other words, Solomon was keeping you very busy with the lessons he provided as your mentor. Admittedly, it made Leviathan feel a bit upset, but he would always feel better upon receiving your calls and messages. It made him even happier when you would do co-op with him, just the two of you.

This time around, you were reaching out for the most unexpected reason paired with a quite off-putting request:

“Levi! Let's go to the beach this Saturday! Solomon gave me the day off and I thought it'd be lovely to do some swimming!”

Leviathan was speechless… no… he was frozen. This is the first time you asked to do something so extroverted. It's quite difficult to think of any proper response.

“I don't know about going to the beach, MC…”

“Oh, I know you might be worried about other people in the place, but I promise there's a private part of the beach we're headed to. I figured I'd take you there because I also have a surprise to show you!” The smiley face at the end of the text made Levi think twice about rejecting the idea. Maybe it's overthinking, but he has this feeling that you might not take no for an answer.

He lets out a sigh, essentially out of awe at how spontaneous you are. Though admittedly, it made his heart race thinking about what would happen on that day. He imagined the scenarios painted by shoujo mangas, especially considering it would just be the two of you going.

His thoughts ran wildly with all the writing conventions he got from every manga he’s read. So much so that he wondered if he needed to practice playing volleyball, or maybe some tough talk when you run into a random group of troublesome strangers… What if you planned to ask him to help you put on some sunblock lotion? What about the conversation you might have as you watch the sunset?

Apart from that, you didn’t tell him to bring anything other than himself… did he need to bring anything? for him? for you? for both of you? Or—

“Stop this! It’s not like it’s gonna turn out that way anyways… even if we are dating…”

Even if going to the beach was the most typical kind of date for couples, he couldn’t believe you were inviting an otaku like him to go with you. If anything, he figured you’d bring Beel and Belphie, Asmo, or Mammon, who definitely wouldn’t refuse some downtime at the beach.

The same kind of thoughts ended up partially clouding his mind for the entire week. Luckily, not so much that it ended up becoming a problem for his duties as a RAD student and student council member. However, it did end up making him lose several rounds in the RPG game he was currently obsessing over.

When the day arrived, Levi had to make sure that the day would be perfect and ended up with a lot of stuff to bring after all. In response, Asmo and Mammon had to talk him out of bringing too many beach items. In the end, Levi just brought some sunscreen that Asmodeus shoved onto him, sunglasses, some swimwear, and himself.

“Are you sure I don’t need any of the stuff I was gonna bring?”

“Levi, if MC is the one that asked you out as a surprise, it should probably mean that they’re the one with an itinerary.” The 5th eldest of the brothers reasoned, speaking as if this was based on common sense.

“I-I guess you’re right about that…” Asmo was the love expert after all, despite being slightly uneasy and nervous, he adhered to his advice.

“If you’re gonna get cold feet over going to the beach, I oughta take your place and go with MC to the beach.” Mammon hit him in a way that was aggressively playful as if he was telling him to turn back and switch places with him. Levi raised an eyebrow, slightly annoyed

“T-they asked me ! Besides…”

We’re the ones dating, they’re in love with me. He stopped himself before he could say his thoughts aloud, it was a close call.

“N-nevermind, I’m just going because it’s MC! You should never refuse MC!”

Right as he says that, a portal emerges and he sees MC by the entrance. The timing almost made Mammon and Levi squeal.

“Hey, MC! If ya planned on dropping by, at least give us a heads up! I think I lost 1000 years in my lifespan thanks to you!”

“MC!” Asmo squeals and runs over to give you the biggest bear hug.

“Hello guys! Just coming in to pick up Levi. How did I do with the portal spell?” You turned over to Levi with a glimmer of excitement in your eye. His eyes widened realizing how close your face was to his.

“U-uh…!” He took a step back and coughed, rose pink dusting his cheeks.

“It was actually really good! Solomon’s mentoring skills are definitely not something to mess with.” You giggled and took him by the hand before turning to the two brothers who were seeing him out.

“Well… off we go! It was nice seeing you all!”

“Take care ya damn lovebirds!”

“Have fun you two!”

Before Leviathan could say anything else, you both already made it across the portal and into the beach.

Levi was expecting some intense heat rays. To his surprise, the heat wave never came. Instead, he was greeted with a healthy mix of blue hues and fluffy clouds.

“Huh…” His eyes landed on the ground, feeling the warmth of white sand on his flip-flops. It was a small pet peeve, but he was going to ignore it for now.

He looked a bit farther and that this was a part of the beach that was relatively distant from where people would often stay.

“Not bad right? Let's head over to the docks.” Levi nodded, letting MC take his hand and walk him to the nearby docks. It was old, the varnish that protected the wood faded from the sunlight. The nails that kept them in place creaked loudly with each step, no matter how gentle they were. Regardless, it seems that the dock was sturdy enough despite its age.

The waves were splashing gently that day, telling you everything you needed to know about how today was going to turn out to be.

You giggled to yourself as you looked at Levi and back to the crystal blue water.

When you reached the end of the dock, you sat down, cross-legged, by the edge. Then, you motioned Levi to sit next to you.

Awkwardly, he obliges, letting his feet hang as he sits down.

“I begged Solomon to teach me this one spell… just watch.” You made eye contact with Levi who was looking at you expectantly. You gave him a small smile, trying to contain your excitement. Then, you let your eyes close as your focus was redirected to the objective you had in mind.

“Spirit of the wind, let my lungs respire and my body steel under your power.”

A blue light glows intensely within you as you take a deep breath in, and fades as you breathe out. The unexplainable sensation of the spell you cast radiates from your chest to your fingertips.

You open your eyes, all your senses returning to reality.

Levi blinks.

“Okay, cool trick and all… but what's the spell for?”

You raise an eyebrow towards your lover before speaking.

“You mean you don't want to experience a day underwater?”

“Huh?!”

“Suit yourself, fish man.” You shrug before launching yourself into the water below you.

“What?! MC, Wait!” His mind was too startled to think about hesitations. Immediately, he jumped in after you. His adrenaline spiked as he looked around to find you, preparing for the worst possible outcome.

He had a delayed realization that you were trying out a spell that could let you breathe underwater, even as you reach the depths of the ocean… at least… if it was executed properly.

He can only vaguely recall how the spell goes as he didn’t need it in his demon form. Because of that, he was too worried over whether or not the spell even worked, stressing over why you acted so rationally.

His worst fears were realized when he saw your limp body halfway through making its way to the ocean floor.

He cursed under his breath multiple times in a state of panic.

With all the strength he could muster, he swam his way to you and caught you in his arms.

Your mouth was slightly open, motioning to the idea that you might’ve already lost breath. He shook your body in an attempt to wake you. But it’s no use.

“MC… fuck… please not like this… it’s too soon… why the hell did you have to go and be so irr—mnn…!”

Suddenly, he feels the slight warmth and softness of lips pressing against his, and a pair of hands snaking their way to his cheeks as they try to pull him in deeper.

Suddenly, his worst fears were unrealized.

You were the first to pull away, giggling playfully as you did.

“A-are you serious right now!? You could have died! ”

“Levi, oh ye of little faith… Do you really think humans are that fragile?” You caressed his cheek, in an attempt to reassure him a little, but he only felt more heated up about the situation, and admittedly, a little flustered from the kiss you shared.

“Yes! Well… n-no… not you… I should’ve known that but— but you should’ve known to test the waters first before jumping into the water like that! Imagine if the spell didn’t work!”

“Levi, this is the spell I wanted to show you. I begged Solomon for literal weeks to teach me and help me master it. You had no idea how many times I had to grin and bear having to go to the beach with him and have him prepare picnic food.”

“I mean… look~! My hard work definitely paid off, and now I can venture with you whenever you want!”

Before he could even argue further, he began to recall the times he would gush over how much he loved the water. Admittedly, they were pretty rare instances, but the fact you even remembered it at all was heartwarming.

The soft-hearted thoughts came to a full stop when he realized…

“Wait, that means you’ve already done this with Solomon… more than once?!”

‘Curse you Solomon, you lucky bastard.’ He thought to himself.

“I mean… he’s the only guy that could teach me the spell in such a short time. I would’ve taught myself but I was a bit overwhelmed with the textbook Satan lent me.

“Why didn’t you ask Satan, then? Not that I want you spending time alone with him either…” Levi asked, mumbling the last bit so you wouldn’t hear it.

“I feel like he’s going to hold it over my head if I do. Like make me do his chores when I get back to the Devildom or help him with an Anti-Lucifer league scheme.” You shuddered at the flashbacks you had, recalling how it ended up with you being strung up by Lucifer at some point.

“Now come on! Let’s go see the ocean! Or—at least— whatever we can see here— or we can just float around, that’s fun too!” You giggled to yourself as you moved around freely, feeling the coolness of the ocean hugging you, and moving against the motions you made. It really did feel like you were floating off the ground.

Quickly, you took Levi’s hand in yours, pulling him as you made your way to the first coral reefs you saw under the waters.

Time passed, allowing you to see all kinds of colorful fishes and reefs. You believed it was luck that allowed you to see such sights, especially how it’s become a rare gem in today’s time. It was as if the universe willed this particular date for the two of you. The thought alone made you feel a bit giddy inside.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you turned to Levi and asked him: “So…how was today for you?”

Levi shook his head and smiled, it was as if he was trying to find the best reaction to give you. But at the end of the day, he felt dumbfounded and even more in love with you than he was before… even if he didn’t know it was possible.

He turned to you, fully awestruck. “You’re too amazing. Please don’t make me say more praise unless you want this little otaku to die of embarrassment.”

You giggled, raising your hand like you were taking an oath.

“You have my word.” You replied to him, “consider that as a thank you from me.”

Levi’s eyebrows shifted slightly in confusion “huh… but I didn't really do anything... I just followed your lead today ngl.”

“I know. But it's because of you that I got to fulfill my childhood dream to swim around in the ocean like this. It’s ten times better because I enjoyed it with you.”

He pulled away from your gaze for a moment, you were literally killing him with affection right now. A giggle escaped his lips in response, probably one of the cutest you’ve heard out of him today.

Suddenly, Levi let out a cough and his face shifted into a more serious expression.

“Can we d-do what we did a while ago? Minus m-me freaking out about you almost dying.”

“Which I didn’t,” You said matter-of-factly. Levi didn’t want to argue, nor could he if it was you. He just laughed in response.

“Which you didn’t.” He simply said. In response, you pretended to weigh your options before swimming as fast as you could.

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff, this was a game of child’s play, and you knew it. So he gave you a little head start. He doesn’t know where this surge of pride came from, he just knew that he wanted to play into your set-to-fail plans.

He wasn’t always great with sports or running, but he was definitely a good swimmer when he wanted to be.

Levi felt his heart trying hard to escape from his chest. The moment he knew the distance was far enough, he made his way towards you. Levi could even feel his heart leaping bounds as you got closer.

But then… He realized, only at the last minute, that he had no clue what to do once he caught you.

Under a millisecond, his mind descended into panic mode. Right before he could think to stop, he had already collided with your body. From there, everything happened in slow motion.

There was something about the water that made how you both tumbled together embarrassing and beautiful at the same time. Perhaps, Levi thought, it was because the two of you seemed to circle around each other forming something close to the motion of a yin-yang symbol.

You were about to burst out in laughter but stopped yourself as you saw that ultra-rare expression on your lover's face, the one he’d hide because he was too shy to show how happy you made him.

The fondness in his eyes shone brightly under the dimness of the ocean. Your heart was beating crazily now, telling you to shower him with as much affection as you could in every kiss.

You obliged, feeling the world around you spin slowly as you did. It was something right out of a magical girl manga, but more. In Levi’s mind, he believed nothing could top the real thing, not even fiction.

“MC… I think I want… to kiss a little bit more…” Even in the depths of the sea, you could tell how much Levi was blushing as he sounded out his wants. The best thing about Levi was how he always expressed his desires shyly. He does his best to gather courage when he feels that he truly needs it. It was his cutest quality and because of that, you smiled.

“You can always have more because you already have all of me.”

His eyes narrowed, trying to hide his giddiness with a cringed expression. You shook your head, you could read him so well.

The two of you kiss again, feeling time and space disappear for the moment. In that moment alone, you were both one with the ocean and one with each other. Feeling what it is to love and be loved, your hearts soared infinitely, as though they were with the breeze.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me mc #obey me nb #leviathan x reader

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sanctus-ingenium · 1 year ago

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Just wanted to ask, please forgive me if you've already answred this, what program do you use? Your art fucks HARD and like. I was looking at your art of the two moths over the city they die in and I was hit with the wave of "oh that looks really fucking fun actually." Like i know my art program can't do some of those effects and like, I'd love to try fucking about with them.

hi there, thank you! all my art is done in procreate and paint tool sai

because you mentioned that drawing in particular i thought it would be fun to break it down and show ppl what exactly went into each part of it so check this out

sketch & lineart - the brushes come from georgbrush.club and the urban sketcher is my most commonly used lineart brush, it has a nice irregular shape. the square brush is nice for big blocky sketches.

the cityscape was REALLY hard but basically I got a photo of the skyline of florence, traced some basic building shapes, then bullshitted the rest using the vertical symmetry/mirror tool to cut down on the amount of work (so i only had to sketch one half of the city). then for lineart I turned off vertical symmetry, turned on the two-point perspective tool, and got this:

the rose windows were made using the radial symmetry tool.

I didn't like it being so flat, so I used the liquify tool to make a kind of fish-eye effect (limited success tbh). I liked how it looked but the buildings in front needed something to cover them up to make the liquification less obvious...

first pass colours. I felt they were very washed out, aside from the sun which i loved. I use the spectra brush (default procreate) for skyscapes a lot, I love the texture. Although the clouds were filled in using the lasso selection tool, I softened the edges using the square pencil again and added texture using true grit sampler grainy brushes. The translucency effect comes from my setting the brush as an eraser. The sun rays come from the radial symmetry tool.

Blocking in the moths' colours was done with the urban sketcher again.

Something people may not have noticed is the labyrinth hidden in the sky! yeah I had a bunch of versions where it was more obvious but I found that it clashed a bit and was too busy, so I made it subtle. But yes. I searched for "royalty free labyrinth" and picked one.

The toner grit brush is one you've seen before if you've looked at any art on tumblr lately (this is such a popular brush) and it's from the true grit fast grit set. The pointillism brush is from the true grit free sampler pack, like my grain brushes.

I added shadows to the moths, increased saturation overall, and changed the clouds to a translucent blue (you can even see in the sun where I forgot to block in the sun itself because the clouds over it used to be opaque lol). Moon rays were drawn using the radial symmetry tool but this time with rotational symmetry off. I also moved the moon down closer to the moths because I felt that it was a bit far away, and this served to visually divide the drawing into three equal parts, so I chose to lean into that and divide the sky colours too, to show passing time, or an endless moment - morning, evening, night, etc.

And then the oroborous, I tried a few different effects on it because I wanted it to be very clearly separate from the main scene - I settled on a dot matrix newsprint texture, using procreate's onboard tool, and some heavy chromatic aberration. This is because the oroborous isn't real, it's purely symbolic and the moths' demise started when they became photographers so I liked the print media aspect there as well. The story itself is about grief without closure, cyclical violence, and sunk cost fallacy, while everyone explores an endless labyrinth, so an oroborous fits I think

what makes art fun to me is thinking up ways I can tell a story using just a single image. and sure a lot of it will be lost to an audience who isn't familiar with the characters or backstory but i want to leave enough in there that even complete strangers to my work will be able to construct a narrative about what's happening here, rather than it just being a cool image. that's my goal.

Finally I exported it to sai on my pc to give it a once-over. this is really important because the retina display on an ipad is oversaturated on purpose, to make everything look amazing and vibrant. but what this means is that on other screens, your work might look washed out. it's especially bad at displaying yellows! so i look at it in sai on my pc and i make minor adjustments, in this case I actually added another multiply layer on the moths and an overlay on their non-shadowed parts to increase the contrast there.

finally if you've read this far, I played a little trick with the caption of the drawing. yeah, THEY die... but only one of those moths is a theythem pronoun haver... the other has to survive. he isn't given a choice in the matter.

#fr you will never catch me trying to mystify my process i will explain literally everything #brushes

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moonlit-midnight · 1 year ago

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Hearts held with gentle love

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Genre: Romantic Fluff.

Summary: In which your lover expresses his gratitude for you in a heartwarming letter.

Warnings:

GN!Reader, is a third year + very self indulgent.

Inspired by a letter that I once received.

Happy birthday to one of my favorite fictional princes!💚

—

To my beloved, and absolute dearest friend in the universe.

Can you believe that three years had gone by since we met?

It’s been wonderful to know you. All the times we spent together whether they were big or little moments were the happiest moments in my life, so I’m writing you this letter to convey my gratitude for having someone like you by my side.

My treasure, thank you for making me feel welcomed, and understood in your company when I felt alone and out of place.

Thank you for listening and smiling heartily at my stories when nobody else did, and for keeping me laughing amidst broken days.

Thank you for being a home for my abandoned thoughts, and for showing me that there’s always room for love for everyone.

Thank you for holding me in your heartfelt embraces when things were difficult, and for willingly choosing to be with me through everything.

Thank you for your genuine friendship made of devotion, trust, support and a steadfast love that I can swear on.

Thank you for making my world a more beautiful place, and for shining a light upon all the rooms in my heart.

— Yours faithfully, Malleus Draconia

“You really have a way with your words. Whether they are happy words, sad or emotional, I love them all.” your eyes glistened with tears once you were done reading his letter.

Setting it aside, you smiled fondly at Malleus, and his eyes shone at the sight of it.

There was something about that smile of yours that always gave him joy, and made him feel gloriously alive each time he saw it.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He beamed, a smile as gentle as the summer sunrise, lighting up his whole face.

“Thank you, Malleus.” you leaned on his sturdy shoulder, and wrapped an arm around him.

You felt so real and warm against him. He thought his heart would burst under the weight of your kind touch and unwavering affection.

“What for?” Malleus hummed, holding you closer.

“For being my devoted friend and lover.” you exclaimed in a sincere tone. “Every time I see you, I smile more and laugh more, and I feel free than the past years combined. So thank you for being by my side.”

Under the brilliant blue skies, painted with golden sunshine, you and Malleus lay on your backs on a field of verdant grass, watching the clouds roll by.

Without taking off his bright green eyes from the peaceful scenery above, Malleus took your right hand, placing an endearing kiss atop it.

“It’s been my honor, my dear.”

#✦💖 hannah's musings #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fluff #twst imagines #twst malleus #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia fluff #twst fanfic #twst fanfiction #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst scenarios #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #diasomnia x reader

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 1 year ago

Text

Love and Liabilities: Chapter Three (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Upon starting your last year of law school, imagine your surprise when the woman from your one night stand turns out to be your professor.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Light sexual situations (very light)

A/N: Hello! I got a bit carried away with this chapter, but I’m battling a head cold so I’m just posting all of it. I’d like to warn that I am: 1) not a lawyer & 2) not a law student (yet 🤧)… so I did some brief research on things, but I am not an expert!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog @tr333sus

There was a special moment in every person’s life that made them reconsider all of their past choices. For you, that moment happened while sitting in the middle of a lecture hall, wondering how the hell the woman from your first one night stand turned out to be your professor. If this was the universe’s way of being funny you were seriously missing the joke.

Agnes, no, Agatha, you mentally corrected yourself, was passing around a seating chart, and you were fixated on her every move around the lecture hall. There was something so hypnotizing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The most obvious answer, of course, was that she had just fucked your brains out a few days ago, and the hormones were clouding your judgement. Flashes of her body pressing yours into the mattress as she whispered pure filth in your ear, driving you to an orgasmic high had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. As if she could read your thoughts, you noticed her inquisitive eyes meet yours. But as quickly as she graced you with her attention, she looked away.

“Now, I know most of your professors use syllabus week as an excuse to put off lecturing, but we’re going to be diving right into the corrupt, filthy world of criminal defense law.” Agatha’s voice rang out through the lecture hall, and you saw a few of your classmates' shoulders slump at her words. “The purpose of this class is to make you question your morals; to rethink any existing ethical values you currently hold.”

Agnes-Agatha, was so well-spoken, and you found yourself hanging onto her every word. Her perfectly painted red lips were mesmerizing to watch as they twisted to form various syllables, and you were having a rather difficult time focusing on her lecture.

Standing in the center of the hall, Agatha held her hands by her side, and you watched her fingers slipping inside her pants pockets. “I want you to take every preconceived notion you have regarding criminal defense and erase it. When you’re a criminal defense attorney, it doesn’t matter if your client is innocent or guilty. It doesn’t matter if they are on trial for petty theft, or for first degree murder.”

She turned her attention to the PowerPoint being displayed on the huge screen, and you, alongside your very disgruntled classmates, pulled out your laptops to take notes. “The biggest mistake you can make in the courtroom is taking the time to care if your client actually committed the crime. That doesn’t matter. I don’t care what any professor or prosecutor will tell you; ignore them. We don’t care if someone is a criminal, but we do care about the motive. Why would someone commit a crime of that nature? What would lead them to have to behave that way?”

A few of your classmates appeared surprised at the professor’s words, but Agatha continued on. “To win over a judge or jury you need to not only be able to rationalize, but clearly justify why the motives lead to the actions of the accused. Nothing in life is ever black and white, there’s always an obscene amount of gray mixed in.”

Leaning back against her desk, Agatha clicked through the slide show. “Now, I don’t typically begin this until a few weeks into the semester, but you’re all 3L’s, yes? You should be up for a challenge on the first day.”

Not waiting for verbal confirmation, she pushed herself off the desk, pointing to someone sitting in the front row. “I see my seating chart is still floating around somewhere so, you, what’s your name?”

A petite girl with sleek blonde hair pulled back in a braid apprehensively looked at Agatha. “Blair Lange, Professor Harkness.”

“Well Miss Lange, you’re going to be my prosecutor.” Agatha gave her a rather menacing smirk. “If you’d join me, please.”

Looking around the room, she spotted the seating chart and went to retrieve it. Her eyes scanned the page, and you were captivated with the sight of her long index finger tracing along the various rows filled with names. “Hmmm, let’s see.” Agatha drawled out, voice sickly sweet like honey. “Who’s going to be my next victim?”

It seemed the universe was keen on laughing at you today, as you heard her call your name, slowly drawing out each syllable. Lovely. Rising from your chair, you felt dozens of pairs of eyes on you as you descended the stairs, but there was only one set that you were focused on. Agatha was observing you with an indecipherable expression on her face, and you felt your cheeks deepen in color at the prolonged eye contact.

“So class, we have our prosecution, and our defense,” She motioned to you, signaling for you to come closer to her, and she handed you each a packet. “I’m going to be the judge. I want you both to look at the following slides I have printed detailing the case and determine how you would have handled this.”

Blair’s face paled at that, and you couldn’t blame her. Cold calling was intimidating enough, but a mock trial on the first day was not exactly how you imagined starting your morning. There were a lot of misconceptions regarding law school; a lot of law students, yourself included, had no interest being in a courtroom. Corporate law dealt with complex contracts and deals for major companies, something you preferred working with. This was nowhere near what you wanted to practice, but it seemed Agatha simply didn’t care.

Agatha strolled back to her desk, leaving you both to read the information provided to you. Flipping through the pages, you noted how the case involved a woman being charged with attempted grand theft and attempted assault of the business owner.

From a first glance, there didn’t seem to be much for you to even argue. The defendant was a former employee of the aforementioned business, and had been fired mere hours before the incident. But, there were a few interesting details. The defendant had no priors, and, from what you were reading, multiple eyewitnesses reported the business owner pulling a gun on them. Your eyes were locked on one particular paragraph, and you remembered what Agatha had just said, about obscene amounts of gray.

Blair, for her part, looked fairly uncertain, and kept casting nervous glances towards the professor. Agatha ignored her, and after a few moments she clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s begin. Now, all I want from the two of you is to have a lively debate on how you would take the information given to argue your side. You don’t have to use the argument given on the page, you can choose a different route if you have sufficient evidence to support. Miss Lange, why don’t you get us started.”

Clearing her throat, Blair looked down at the papers, and you noted how her hands were so unsteady they were shaking. “Right. Well I would argue that the prosecution proceeds with both attempted grand theft and assault against the defendant.”

Rolling her eyes, Agatha let out a deep sigh. “Miss Lange, I’m not asking you to read verbatim what is on the sheet in front of you. When looking at court documents, it is essential to not only be able to read what is given but to be able to put it in your own words.”

Blair kept her eyes glued to the page and Agatha shook her head in disapproval. “Fine, I’ll let it slide for now. If the defense could keep us going, let’s keep it snappy.”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Agatha. “The defense is pleading not guilty to attempted assault and grand theft.”

You noticed Blair looked up in surprise at your statement, as that was not printed in the court documents, while Agatha merely raised her eyebrows, turning her attention towards you. “Not guilty? Why?”

“The plaintiff stated in their testimony that both the attempted assault and grand theft were unprovoked, but the defense is arguing that both of these allegations have mitigating circumstances that I’d argue are grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Blair shuffled the papers around, and she appeared uncomfortable. “Professor Harkness, that’s not listed anywhere in here.”

Agatha held up a hand, signaling for Blair to stop talking. “Defense, if you could proceed.”

You could feel butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach as you realized you were taking a rather large leap in judgment. “On behalf of my client, I’m looking to not only have these charges dropped, but to formally charge the plaintiff with wrongful termination.”

“Does the prosecution have anything to add?” Agatha questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m not sure where to even begin, Professor.” Blair admitted, and you felt a quick twinge of pity for her, briefly wondering if perhaps you should dial it back.

Agatha frowned, and you could immediately tell she was displeased with that answer. “You don’t know where to begin? That’s the answer you’re going with?”

Blair remained silent, and Agatha took a deep breath. “My, my, you’ve completed two years of law school and you don’t know where to begin. Is there anything constructive you can add to this debate, Miss Lange?”

Stammering, Blair shook her head, looking anywhere but at your professor. “No, I don’t.”

“Disappointing.” Agatha admitted, and her eyes narrowed, pointing to the door. “Get out.”

Your classmate’s eyes widened, and you felt that twinge of pity grow even larger.

“Professor Harkness, please. I didn’t-” Blair stammers.

“Get out of my class. Now.” Agatha repeated, her tone growing more agitated with each word. “And don’t come back until you’re adequately prepared.”

The hall was dead quiet, and you were too shocked to know how to react, or if you even should. Nearly all of your classmates were dumbfounded as well, this wasn't a normal occurrence in classes. A lot of your former law professors were strict and had extremely high expectations of their students; endless hours of case studies and readings, roasting students who froze during cold calls, you name it. However, you had never witnessed one of them kick a student out of class, least of all during syllabus week.

To her credit, Blair left with a lot more grace than you could have mustered in her shoes. She swiftly grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the lecture hall, the sound of the doors slamming shut reverberated across the walls.

Agatha paid no mind to the noise, her focus was entirely on you, deep blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “There is no direct evidence suggesting that the plaintiff is guilty of wrongful termination, is there?”

Your eyes flickered between the papers in your hands and the alluring woman in front of you. “Not in those exact words, no.”

Agatha let out a low hum, taking a small step closer to you. “So you’re basing your argument off of what exactly? Intuition?”

A few of your classmates snickered, but you ignored them.

Shaking your head, you tried to muster any remaining confidence you could find. “No. I’m basing it off the written testimonials by four different employees, stating that the defendant showed up late on the day of the incident because they were at a previously scheduled doctor’s appointment.”

“But there’s nothing to support that the defendant was fired because they were late. Much less, that they were wrongfully terminated for it.” Agatha skillfully argued, poking holes in your theory with ease. “How do we know that they didn’t have a history of showing up late to work? Having an incomplete argument guarantees the prosecution will tear you to shreds, you need something more absolute.”

“That’s true.” You admitted, and took a pause before adding, “I think the defendant being pregnant makes things a bit more absolute though, doesn’t it?”

Agatha’s face remained expressionless as she slowly raised her left arm up, index finger tapping against her cheek. “Is that a question or your statement?”

Without hesitating you replied, “My statement.”

“And how do you plan on proving that the defendant was not only fired due to their pregnancy, but that both counts of attempted grand theft and assault should be dropped?” Agatha questioned, and it looked as if she was actively trying to restrain herself from stepping closer to you, but surely you were imagining that.

“The defendant had absolutely no priors, and they don’t have a history of being fired from previous employers.” You pointed out, setting your papers down on Agatha’s desk. “They had previously cleared coming in late in order to go to a scheduled doctor’s appointment, and it was stated that when they showed up to work that the plaintiff fired them. Written testimonials from multiple employees stated the plaintiff said it was unacceptable for the defendant to show up late, despite them approving the time off.”

Agatha’s lips pursed as she processed what you were saying. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions. What of the attempted grand theft and assault?”

“Grand theft in the state of New York starts at $1,000. The defendant showed up at the business after they had been wrongfully terminated to request their pay from previous days worked, which would come out to around that amount.” You explained, hoping you had the right number. “As for the quoted attempted assault, no eyewitnesses noted the defendant raising even a finger to threaten the plaintiff. The latter, however, was seen pulling out a gun on the defendant, completely unprovoked.”

“And if the plaintiff claims it was self defense?” Agatha fired back with so much zest that you wondered how much she was enjoying this debate.

Tilting your head, you pondered her words. “Self defense against an unarmed pregnant woman? That won’t hold up well with the jury.”

“You’re certain this is the argument you want to back?” Agatha tested you again, her index finger moving from her cheek to lightly stroke her bottom lip, and you found yourself hypnotized by the motion. As if she could sense your distraction, her ever red lips tilted up to form a slight smirk.

“I’m certain.”

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any hesitation or uncertainty. You held your own as much as you could, ignoring the flip flop of your nerves. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she gave you a single nod, turning her attention back to the rest of the class.

“Not bad.” Agatha offered, and you immediately let out the breath you had been holding in. “A few of your arguments would have been thrown out, but you certainly appear to have the stamina for the courtroom.”

She gave you a subtle raised eyebrow at the last part of the sentence as you lightly blushed, confirming your suspicions she had most likely selected you on purpose. Heading back to your seat, you listened to her drone on to the rest of the class that everyone would eventually end up in the hot seat before the semester’s end.

“And it appears we are all out of time for the day.” Agatha announced, and nearly everyone let out a sigh of relief at that. “Come prepared to debate the best way to prepare an opening statement.”

Everyone eagerly filed out of the hall, but you lingered, slowly putting away your belongings. A few of your classmates congratulated you on surviving Agatha’s ruthless interrogations, and you merely offered them a brief thanks. Agatha also appeared to be in no hurry, as she leisurely shut down her laptop. You debated on if you should talk to her, if you should address the elephant in the room that you were both dancing around. Walking down the steps of the aisles, you were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you tripped on the last step and went flying forward.

Before you tumbled to the floor, swift hands wrapped around your waist and shoulder, helping steady you to the ground. As you went to thank your savior, you were surprised to find Agatha standing in front of you, bag dropped at her side.

“You’re always this clumsy, hm?” Agatha lightly quipped as she examined you. If you didn’t know any better you would say she was concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” You assured her, thankful she had been there to catch you. “Could I talk to you?” Looking around the room you noticed most of your classmates had left but you carefully added, “About the discussion in class?”

Agatha hesitated, and you wondered if you pushed too far, but after a moment she nodded. “I have some time now, my office?” She walked away before you could reply, swinging the doors open. “Try to keep up, and be careful not to trip.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize Agatha Harkness was quite feared in the law school. You lost track of the number of students who averted their gaze and scurried away as soon as they noticed her rounding the corner. It was almost amusing, at least Agatha seemed to think so, as she looked quite smug on the walk to her office. You made the trek in silence, and it eerily reminded you of a similar encounter you had shared with her only a few days prior. Upon reaching the office, Agatha quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside.

Agatha’s office was relatively spacious for a law professor, with high vaulted ceilings and large windows that allowed plenty of light in. The walls were adorned with large bookcases, filled to the brim with various titles ranging from Greek classics to biographies of different Supreme Court justices. She had a plethora of plants scattered around, and you learned from spending enough time in Maria’s office that Agatha knew how to properly water them. There was a large desk situated near the windows, with a high backed mahogany chair at the head.

Agatha took a seat, and pointed to two smaller seats on the other side of the desk. “Sit, please.”

You did as she instructed, taking note of the rather expensive looking whiskey near the corner of the desk as well as a few books the professor appeared to be reading. When you looked at her, you were unsurprised to find her curiously gazing at you.

“I assume you don’t actually want to discuss today’s class?” Agatha guessed, amusement evident in her tone.

“Not exactly.” You admitted, feeling another rush of nerves course through your system at finally being alone with her.

“Oh? Whatever did you want to talk about then?” Agatha bantered, leaning forward across her desk as she gave you an expectant look.

“Agatha…” Trailing off, you cleared your throat. “I mean, Professor Harkness.”

Frowning, Agatha reached her hand across the desk to brush against yours, chuckling as you jumped at the contact. “Just Agatha when we’re alone, dear.”

Nearly ripping your hand from hers, you folded them across your lap. “Professor Harkness, I really don’t feel comfortable calling you by your first name under these circumstances.”

Raising her eyebrows, Agatha leaned back in her chair. “Under what circumstances? After I just fucked you a few days ago and you just found out I was your professor?”

“Don’t say that!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if someone could have heard, despite the door being firmly shut.

“Honestly, dear, you aren’t the first girl to have slept with her professor, and you certainly won’t be the last.” Agatha stood up, walking over to an electric tea kettle she had on a bar cart. “Tea?”

Stunned by her casual response, you were at a loss for words. “You’re seriously asking me if I want tea?”

“Well I would ask if you would like some whiskey but I know drinking this early in the day is typically frowned upon.” Agatha jested, but upon noticing how upset you appeared she backed off. “Honestly, you didn’t know I was going to be your professor, I had no idea you would be walking in late to my lecture hall. No harm, no foul. No one has to know what happened.”

Her words made enough sense, and you reluctantly nodded. “I guess not.”

“It was just a one night stand, it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.” Agatha added, turning on her tea kettle, fingers raking over various mugs. “We can just forget it ever happened.”

You knew she was right, but you were surprised to find how much her words stung. “Right, well I’m glad we were able to clear that up.” Standing up, you grabbed your bag. “I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time. Thank you again, Professor Harkness, and I’ll see you in class.”

If Agatha was surprised by your abrupt exit, she didn’t show it. She nodded, pouring herself some tea. “It was my pleasure, dear.”

Leaving her office, you told yourself that you could relax and that Agatha was right, you could just forget that it ever happened.

Only it turned out the more you tried to forget something, the harder it was to put it out of your brain. The rest of your day was spent zoning out in the library. While you had wanted to get a head start on your hours of readings, instead you kept remembering the feel of Agatha’s body against yours, the taste of her tongue in your mouth. The feel of her long fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, her hot breath in your ear telling you how good you were for her. It was embarrassing, really.

Agatha made it quite clear in her office that it was a one night stand, and that it didn’t have to mean anything in the long run. But she continued to invade your every thought, until you inevitably lost track of time. The hours ticked by, and you knew studying in your apartment wouldn’t be any better. You normally had no trouble shutting out the rest of the world to focus on your class work, but there was something so magnetic about Agatha Harkness. This was wrong, and crazy, and you knew it. You had only spent one night with this woman, you barely knew her. But she was addictive, and she had somehow managed to rot your brain in the process.

Just as you finally started to get into your reading, you heard your phone ding. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you shut your books for the evening and grabbed your phone, deciding it would be best to just try again in the morning. Scrolling through your notifications as you got ready to leave, you almost dropped your phone as you read the newest email in your inbox.

Not sure if you’re still on campus, but if you are, feel free to drop by my office. A few things I wanted to discuss from today’s class. -A

It was nearly dusk, and you watched the sun slowly begin to set over the Manhattan skyline, filling the sky with colorful hues of oranges, pinks, and purples. There were still plenty of people in the library, as a number of students had night classes, and you were frozen. Did Agatha know you were upset when you left? Was she going to ask you to drop her class?

As if you were in a trance, you mindlessly walked to the professor’s office, keeping your head low. You could feel your heartbeat, pounding so loud you feared it might explode through your chest as you reached her closed door.

Knocking twice, you waited for her captivating voice to tell you to enter. Upon doing so you found the woman who had taken over your every waking thought leaning against the windowsill of her office, sipping on a glass of what you presumed to be whiskey.

“Shut the door.” Agatha immediately requested, not offering you any other sort of greeting.

Gently closing the door as you entered, you lingered, unsure where to go or what you should do.

Agatha finally looked at you, and motioned to the whiskey on her desk. “Would you like a glass?”

“It’s probably best if I don’t.” You declined, once again remembering the last time you were drinking around her. “Thank you though.”

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha stated, setting her whiskey on the windowsill. She said it calmly and so matter of fact you almost wondered why she bothered saying it at all.

“I wasn’t upset.” You disagreed, but she gave you a pointed look in return as if to say bullshit.

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha repeated, stepping away from the windowsill. “Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You replied, the lie burning like acid on your tongue, causing you to wince.

“You don’t know?” Agatha mimicked your words, and she seemed agitated as she began to walk towards you, closing the distance little by little. “You don’t know why you were upset?”

“Professor Harkness, I really don’t see why we have to go over all of this again-” You started to say until you were rudely cut off by a loud cackle.

“For an aspiring lawyer, you have an absolute shit poker face.” Agatha informed you, swarming in; you shivered as you were suddenly standing so close together that you were nearly face to face. “Why were you upset?”

Your face grew red from her scrutinizing gaze, and that only egged her on. “I think we both know why, don’t we, darling?” Leaning in until she was close enough to your ear, she leaned in to whisper, “You wanted me to fuck you again, didn’t you?”

“Professor Harkness, I…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grow dizzy, and you couldn’t remember anything but her name.

“I thought I told you to call me Agatha.” The professor gently reprimanded you, as her hand came up to cup the back of your neck, and you could smell the whiskey in her breath. “Just Agatha.”

As her tongue parted her luscious red lips, you lost any remaining functioning brain cells and closed the distance between you, frantically kissing her. Agatha tangled her fingers in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. The professor was kissing you with fervor, and you slowly found yourself melting with every passionate movement of her lips. Her tongue slowly, teasingly, sought entrance to your mouth, which you granted without a second thought. You let out a series of quiet moans as her hands moved lower to cup your ass, greedily groping, and she chuckled at your reaction.

“So easy for me.” Agatha softly murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to lead you to lean back against her desk.

You wanted to argue that no, you weren’t easy for her, but you both knew that was a lie. Her hands moved to remove the scarf you had been forced to wear as a result of the multitude of hickeys she had adorned your body with, and you watched her eyes darken at the sight.

“Well you certainly bruise easily.” Agatha teased, tracing every mark with her fingers, the overwhelming sensation causing you to whine. “And still so responsive. Fascinating.”

Thousands of thoughts were circulating in your brain, and every touch from Agatha made it harder for you to focus. Her lips attached to the side of your neck, immediately alternating between sucking and biting, lightly kissing each new mark she left. At this rate you were going to have to ask your roommates if they had any scarves you could borrow. Just as Agatha went to unbutton your pants, there was a loud thumping noise from the hallway, and you both leapt apart.

Panting, you felt a spike in your anxiety at the thought of being caught like this, even though rationally speaking you knew no one could possibly know what you were doing in here.

Agatha seemed to be having similar thoughts, as she straightened her jacket, clearing her throat. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to continue this. Could I invite you for a night cap?”

In an attempt to get your breathing under control, you shook your head. “No, I think that would be a mistake.”

Shooting you a perplexed look, Agatha strolled over to the windowsill to pick up her whiskey. “A mistake? If I correctly recall you just kissed me, did you not?”

“You came on to me first!” You argued, and your brain appeared to be regaining consciousness as you remembered why this was such a bad idea. “I can’t risk this ruining things.”

“Someone certainly thinks highly of themselves.” Agatha dryly retorted, finishing off her whiskey and pouring herself another. “And what pray tell do you think this,” she motioned to you before continuing, “will ruin?”

“I have a job offer for next year.” You explained, and mentally cursed yourself for your lapse of judgment. “They never said fucking my professor would cause me to lose it, but I don’t think it would help my case.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted at that comment, and she let out a sigh. “And you’re worried about what, exactly? That we’ll give ourselves away and this unimportant firm will care so much about your deviousness that they’ll drop you?”

“It’s Stark & Strange.” You bluntly corrected her, not caring if you were being rude. “And I can’t really afford to fuck that up.”

You didn’t mention how literally you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Law school was expensive, and while you were granted a few scholarships to cover tuition, you still had to take out hundreds of thousands of dollars of loans. Plus not to mention the extra thousands you would have to spend in order to prepare for the bar. You were thankful your summer associate position paid so well, as you were able to pay for the majority of your rent for the year, but you weren’t exactly flush with cash. Working in corporate law would practically guarantee you opportunities you could never dream of having otherwise.

“Tony Stark is a dick, and I know for a fact he’s committed sins far worse than sleeping with his professor.” Agatha unhelpfully offered, but she appeared to sense how upset you were as she finally walked back over to you, setting her glass down on her desk before rubbing your shoulders. “No one is going to find out, dear. There’s really nothing to fret over.”

It was surreal, how one touch from her practically set your body ablaze with want. It was clear you were unable to control yourself when you were around the older woman. The thought of having to sit in that large lecture hall three times a week, watching her and obsessing over her every little move felt almost unbearable.

Hesitating for a brief moment, you moved your eyes to look at anything but her. “I think I need to drop your class.”

“Absolutely not.”

Frowning, you looked back to find her staring at you as if you said something incredibly stupid. “Why not? You have plenty of other students.”

“They’re morons.” Agatha insisted, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious.

Snorting, you shook your head at how dramatic she was. “Today was only the first day, how could you possibly know that?”

Agatha’s right hand gripped the desk, while her left absentmindedly played with your hair, gently stroking it. “I can just tell, I’m rather gifted that way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “And apparently very humble as well.”

Blue eyes sparkling, Agatha continued to twirl strands of your hair. “You have a lot of potential as a defense attorney. I saw it today during class. There’s a lot of fight in you, and passion. That’s not something that can be taught.”

Blushing at the compliment, you shook your head. “Thank you, but I really have no interest in being in a courtroom.”

Shrugging, Agatha dropped your hair, taking another small sip of her whiskey. “It never hurts to keep your options open.”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea.” You continued, keeping yourself grounded to reality. “I can’t…control myself around you.”

“But that’s half the fun, darling.” Agatha taunted, but showed you mercy as she went back to sit in her chair. “It’s ultimately up to you, but I think it would be a mistake to drop the class.”

Following her lead, you sat across from her, fidgeting your hands on your lap. “So what, then? We just avoid each other outside of class?”

Agatha shook her head in disagreement. “Too juvenile. Besides, that would just make it easier for us to give into temptation.”

She put a special emphasis on the last word, giving you a salacious grin, and you wiggled uncomfortably in your seat before you eventually responded. “I’m not seeing any other solutions besides me dropping your class and trying to get in another.”

“It’s far too late for you to get a spot in anything half decent.” Agatha insisted, and you knew she was right. At this point you’d have to take an extra class in the spring, and pay more money than you could currently afford. “Besides, I already have a solution.”

You looked at her, surprised at how quickly she had come up with something. “You do?”

“We’ll make a contract.” Agatha simply stated, and you stared blankly at her.

“A…contract?”

The professor deeply sighed, running her fingers back to unpin her hair, the dark curls messily framing her face. “Honestly, dear. Didn’t you spend the summer fawning over those big bad attorneys at Stark & Strange? Yes, a contract. We’ll each put our terms in and come up with an appropriate way to navigate this until the semester’s end in thirteen weeks.”

A contract. Hm. It was a bit cliche, sure, but you couldn’t think of anything better.

But still, you were curious to what extent Agatha intended to try and make this work. “What exactly would we be putting in the contract?”

Agatha shrugged. “This and that. No sex, obviously.” She gave you an inquisitive glance. “Unless you feel differently?”

Flashes of her fingers curling and twisting inside you had you squirming again. ��No, I think that’s definitely necessary.”

Grinning like a cat that ate the canary, Agatha smugly replied with, “I thought so. Given your particular lack of self control, perhaps we could eliminate anything…carnal, hm?”

Glaring at her, you wondered where she got the audacity. “I don’t think it’s just me that’s lacking control, but that’s probably wise.” Another thought crossed your mind, and you quickly added, “Then again, we never did discuss the Agnes of it all, did we? Do you really think you’re important enough to need to give people a fake name?”

“You’re quite cheeky for someone who was practically begging me to fuck her in my office.” Agatha shot back, and shook her head. “Do you not give yourself an alias when you talk to strangers?”

Enjoying the banter, you gave a thoughtful expression before eventually saying, “No, I don’t think most people do that.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, and she seemed unamused. “Safety, dear. For all I knew, you could have been a serial killer.”

You gave her a wide, innocent smile. “No, I just turned out to be your student.”

“You're not supposed to make jokes.” Agatha informed you, swirling the remaining whiskey in her glass. “Most lawyers aren’t funny.”

Ignoring her, you changed the subject. “And what is going to happen at the end of the semester?” You curiously eyed her, unsure what her response would be, or even what you wanted it to be.

“We’ll reevaluate of course.” Agatha explained, before adding with a smirk. “That is, if you pass my class.”

“Of course.”

“So do we have a deal?” Holding her hand out, you quickly realized she wanted you to shake it.

You reached out to firmly grab her hand, and her fingers intertwined with yours, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“We have a deal.”

Releasing your hand, she pulled out a post-it note, messily scribbling something down before sliding it over to you. “That’s my cell and personal email. Send me your terms by tomorrow night and we’ll put something together.”

Taking the post-it, your eyes scanned the writing before carefully pocketing it. “Right, thanks. I guess I should be going?”

Nodding, Agatha stood up to walk you to the door. Meeting you halfway, she carefully wrapped the scarf back around your next, tugging on it slightly and grinning at the shiver you let out. “I look forward to doing business with you, dear. See you in class.”

Exiting her office, your fingers fumbled through the pockets of your jeans until they felt the post-it note, and you wondered what the hell you just got yourself into.

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