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coff33andb00ks · 2 months ago

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Recipe for the Perfect Christmas 8/12

One part small town girl coming home from the big city. One part handsome stranger. Five parts lifelong friends (don't forget to include their partners). One part stubborn father. A dash of Christmas spirit. Part: Eight of Twelve Pairing: Oscar Piastri x ofc (with appearances from Mark Webber. Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Esteban Ocon, Pato O'Ward, and George Russell) wc: 4,689 warnings: smut!!! mdni!! soundtrack: spotify ⋆❆⋆ apple music nav: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve

"The number you have called…"

Natalie groaned and ended the call, scowling as she leaned to plug it into the charger. "He still won't answer."

"I'm sure he's fine," her father said, not looking up from his book.

Turning to scowl at him, she softened when she saw Penny curled up next to him on the couch, her head resting on his lap. During the week she had forced him to stay home and rest, he had discovered he liked stretching out on the couch, especially when the dog came for a visit. He had said the uncomplicated company of the dog had helped him feel better. Natalie wasn't sure if it was Penny or the rest, but he had bounced back to almost normal, resuming his morning duties at the bakery and not being quite as grouchy in the evenings.

"He always answers, though," she pointed out. Feeling restless, she crossed to look out the front window. Though it was past sunset, she could see the trees swaying in the increasing winds and the steady fall of snow. The across-the-street neighbors had put their exterior lights up that day and she watched them bounce and sway as the cedar they were wrapped around bent with the wind. The storm was supposed to have only lasted the afternoon but it had stalled after passing Halifax. She could see the cars starting to turn white, as well as the driveway and walk. The sky lit above and she gasped as, seconds later she heard the faint rumble of thunder.

"Thundersnow?" Mark asked, glancing up from his book.

"Yeah," she said, letting the curtain fall back. The wind seemed to pick up, straining against the windows, and she shivered despite the warmth of the living room. "I hope it ends soon."

"The thunder? Or the snow?"

"All of it." Natalie picked up his empty mug. "Do you want more coffee?"

"Make a pot of tea," he requested, slipping the postcard from Hawaii he'd gotten from his cousin between the pages of his book. He set it aside and reached to rub Penny when she squeezed closer to him. "And you should probably check the soup."

"Right." She should probably check other things, too. If the storm got bad, the power would go out. She wasn't worried about the cold. Years ago when her parents had upgraded their heating from the baseboard propane heaters to central heating, her father had kept the baseboard heat installed and had it regularly serviced to make sure it was in proper working order. They wouldn't freeze. But she had to go down to the basement and make sure the furnace was working, and she had to slip outside to get some firewood for the fireplace in the living room. And she had to get out the candles and kerosene lamps. And—

Her phone began to ring and she nearly threw the coffee mug aside. Grateful it was empty, she tightened her grip on it and rushed to get her phone from the end table. She hated that she sighed, disgruntled, upon seeing it was Susie and not Oscar. Unplugging the phone, she answered the call and headed into the kitchen. "Hey, Susie."

"Just checking in. You guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine. Things okay out there?" she asked, setting the mug in the sink and reaching for the kettle.

"The horses are all cozy in their stalls, the barn is battened down, and Estie's pacing like the nervous wreck he is." Susie let out a soft laugh. "He's really not, he's outside triple-checking the generator."

"Does he think the power's gonna go out?" Natalie filled the kettle and carried it to the stove.

"It's blinked here a couple times, so it probably will. If this stupid storm would just go away…" Susie groaned. "We'll be fine. Esitie said he can come out there if you need help getting Mark's furnace going."

Natalie opened her mouth to say she was sure it was already working, and sighed when her father called out from the living room.

"Tell Esteban the furnace is already on, we won't freeze!"

"Dad said to tell Est—"

"I heard him. I won't keep you, I just—"

"Have y'all heard from Oscar?"

Susie paused. "I haven't. I'll ask Estie when he comes in. Why?"

"He came by this afternoon with Penny and said he'd be back to get her before dark." Natalie switched on the stove before lifting the lid off the pot of soup she'd made for dinner. "He had to run errands, but we haven't heard from him since he left."

"I'm sure he's fine," Susie said automatically.

"I know, I am too, I just…"

"Worry about him because you're a little bit in love with him."

Natalie set the lid down with force. "I'm not—"

"Gonna tell me the sun's shining, too?"

"If you guys hear from him can you let me know?" she requested.

"Of course. But I'm sure he's fine. The traffic is probably bad because of the snow so he's being careful. I doubt he has his phone in his hand the whole time he's in the car. Y'know, like I do."

Natalie snorted on a laugh. "How many tickets have you gotten for that now?"

"That's not important," Susie said quickly. "Okay, I'll – Hey babe, have you heard from Oscar?"

She could heard Esteban's negative reply, muffled, then Lucas chattering. Deflated a little, she moved to gather mugs and the tea. "I figured he hadn't."

"Estie said don't worry."

"I'm not worried."

"Estie said stop lying."

"I'm not—"

"Estie said yes you are."

"Estie didn't say anything!" Esteban protested in the background. "All I said was what's for dinner?"

Natalie laughed. "Go feed your husband."

"The feminist in my wants to say he can feed himself, but the realist in me knows he'd destroy the kitchen in the process. I'll call you tomorrow. Give Mark our love."

The call ended before Natalie could reply. While waiting for the kettle to start whistling, she tried Oscar again, worry increasing when it rolled to his voicemail. She thought about texting him, but he wasn't big on texting. Sighing, she typed out a quick one to him anyway, keeping the message short and trying not to come across as a worrywart.

It's getting pretty bad here. Just checking to make sure you're okay. Call me?

After she sent it she realized she definitely sounded like a worrywart. Sighing, she pushed the phone into her jeans and drummed her fingers against the countertop.

She and her father ate dinner in the living room. A rare occasion, but the crackling fire was warming and the old Christmas movie playing on TV was comforting. The soup and rolls were filling, and she brought out the brownies she had baked that afternoon. She whipped together some bland chicken and rice and vegetables for Penny, who had followed her to and from the kitchen with an eager expression on her face.

The winds rose, rattling the windows, and she had just finished the dishes when the lights went out.

"It's okay," she crooned softly to Penny when the dog whined. "Everything's alright."

Still no word from Oscar. She hadn't been really worried, just a little concerned, but now she truly began to worry. What if he'd had an accident? What if he were stuck in a ditch, injured and not seen because of the snow falling?

Memories of the night her mother had died came creeping back. Her father's worry when the hour grew late. The knock of a state trooper at the door—

Everything's alright, she told herself while lighting candles and two hurricane lamps in the living room. Her father got up and turned on the baseboard then went upstairs to change into pajamas and take his nightly medicine. Natalie busied herself with getting blankets and pillows for the couches, knowing they would camp out in the living room. She tried to get Penny to go outside but the dog shied away from the gust of wind that sent snowflakes swirling through the back door. Standing there, starting to shiver, she looked out at the dying storm and her worry increased.

"I'm going to see if Oscar's at home," she announced when her father came downstairs. She had already added an extra layer of clothes and put on her thickest, warmest coat, her boots, and was wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"Natalie, sweetie…" Her father frowned.

"I won't be able to relax until I do." She jammed a hat down over her head and reached for her gloves. "His phone might have died and he can't call."

Mark sighed. "Take your phone."

"I've got it. I'll call you when I get there."

He nodded. "And be careful."

"I will." She picked up the thermos of tea she'd prepared. "Penny doesn't want to go out in this, so—"

"She's a smart girl," he said, smiling fondly at the dog waiting for him in the doorway of the living room.

Natalie rolled her eyes. "There's tea if you want some. I made a pot right before the lights went out."

"Hurry along," her father said. "Call me."

"I will," she promised, heading for the door.

The winds had died down but the snow was still falling. It hit her cheeks like shards of glass and she realized there was sleet mixed in. Her boots crunched through the snow and she twice considered turning back to the warmth of home, but her worry drove her forward. There was absolute silence, broken only by someone's generator, and she had to use a flashlight to see her way along the two blocks to the yellow Victorian. It and the rest of the houses along Halifax Street were dark, though through some windows along her trek she could see the faint glow of candles or camp lights. Oscar's house – Max's, she corrected – was completely dark. She was relieved to see his truck in the driveway and ignored the light in the back yard of George's house next door, climbing the snow-covered steps to the front porch.

Next door she heard a chainsaw roar to life. Looking over while knocking on the door, she saw that the back yard was lit by car headlights, illuminating a tree that had fallen, some of its thick branches crumpled against the roof of the detached garage. Knocking again, louder, she winced as the saw began to grind through limbs, accompanied by the crackling as the heavy limbs and branches fell to the ground.

"Come on," she muttered under her breath when her knocks remained unanswered. There was no way he was asleep. She tried to peer through the beveled windows on either side of the door but could see nothing of the interior.

The saw died and she heard male voices. Recognizing one, she nearly dropped the thermos and spun to face the house next door. Of course he was next door, helping his neighbor. She left the thermos by the door and headed over, suddenly understanding and knowing what he had done.

And when she rounded the back corner of the house and he saw her, grin obvious in spite of the scarf shielding the bottom half of his face, she felt weak with relief.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, breathless, after crossing the yard to her. His brow furrowed with worry. "Is everything okay with Mark?"

"He's fine," she promised, reaching to brush sawdust from the sleeves of his coat. "I was worried about you when you didn't answer my calls."

He sighed. "My phone died on the way back from Fairview. I don't have a charger in the truck. Then when I got here, the power was out, and then George's tree fell, and Lilli insisted I stay inside until the storm died down and—"

"And you were only worried about lending a hand," she finished with understanding.

"We're working to get it off the garage." Oscar glanced over his shoulder. "Won't be much longer, then I'll take you home, okay?"

"I can—"

"Can you start the fire in the living room for me?" he asked, pulling off a glove and reaching into his pocket. His keys jangled as he handed them over. "It's already set, you just need to light it."

"Of course. I brought you some tea."

His eyes crinkled. "Great. I'll be over in a few minutes." His bare hand grazed her cheek briefly. "Get inside and warm up."

She nodded, then waved to George before heading back next door.

She took off her boots after getting inside then felt like a burglar, tiptoeing in her socks through the house in the dark. After lighting the fire she began peeling off her gloves, hat, and scarf, holding her hands close to the flames before venturing into the kitchen. She got a mug and sugar to carry to the living room, then found a jarred candle to light. Wondering if he'd eaten dinner, she was about to check for something she could warm by the fire when she saw a crumpled fast food bag on the counter, next to his dead phone and a stack of receipts.

There was a thump at the back door and she rushed to open it, stepping back as Oscar entered. "The fire's going," she said, taking his scarf and hat as he removed them. "I'll fix you a cup of tea."

"Thanks," he whispered, unzipping his coat.

He smelled of snow and wood. After he tossed his coat over the back of the old chair near the door the faint scent of gasoline disappeared, and she walked in front of him to the living room.

The fire gave off heat that warmed his chilled hands and face. The tea was still hot, warming his stomach, and he chuckled when she got up to get herself a cup from the kitchen. While she was gone he found the bag of candles Eve had brought down to go on the dining room table, making a mental note to replace them before she came down again. The silver candelabras were wrapped in bubble wrap and the sound of the plastic ripping sounded obnoxiously loud to his ears.

"You did eat, didn't you?" Natalie asked as she returned, empty cup in hand.

"Yeah, I had a burger and fries." Though he had a standing invitation to dinner at the Webber house, his plan had been to stop home and plug in his phone then go pick up Penny before the storm got worse. But he had got caught in the worst of it on the highway, forced to drive at a snail's pace. "I'm sorry. I should have stopped somewhere and bought a charger or—"

"It's fine," she promised, kneeling in front of the fire to fix her coffee. She moved the sugar and thermos to the side of the hearth and sat back on her heels. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Worried I was in a ditch, huh?" He chuckled, intending it to be teasing, but felt her tense from across the room. Frowning, he carried the candelabras to the coffee table and picked up the matches to light the candles. "I'm sorry, Natalie."

"No, it's fine," she said softly, looking at the fire. "I just… Yes, I was worried about you."

He nodded and lit the candles, tossing the spent match into the fire. They gave off plenty of light, but he couldn't let himself focus on how the glow of them made her hair lustrous, or how when she looked at him her eyes were luminous with the flames from the fireplace. Sitting next to her on the plush rug he'd put down that morning, he watched her sip her coffee carefully.

"I shouldn't have joked about being in a ditch," he murmured.

"It's okay." She leaned to press a kiss to his cheek. "I just – Oh god, I forgot!"

"What?" he grunted, wincing when she pushed away briskly. Reaching for his tea, he watched her crawl over to the couch, where her coat was.

"Dad. I told him I'd call him when I got here. He's probably worrying—" Pulling out her phone, she snorted when it began to ring. "And there he is! Hey, Dad, sorry…"

Oscar half-listened as she explained the reasons behind his not showing up. He thought she exaggerated a little about the tree on George's garage and lifted his eyebrows when she said they were still working and that she was going to start a fire. Keeping silent as she ended the call with a groan of laughter, he waited until she had tossed her phone back onto the couch. He leaned against the hearth, eyes watching her every move as she unzipped the thick hoodie she wore and shrugged it off, then followed her hand when she reached for the buffalo plaid blanket draped over the back of the couch.

She brought it back over with her, spreading it over her lap after she set, and looked at him with a soft smile. "He's glad you're okay."

"Am I okay? I thought I was still outside helping George," he said, flicking the corner of the blanket towards her.

Her cheeks colored. "Yeah… Sorry about that." She cleared her throat and picked up her cup. "I'm just not ready to leave."

"Oh?" He smiled.

"It's nice. Sitting in front of the fire with you and talking? It's more than nice. And if I told him things were fine he would have started—" Natalie cut off with a brief scowl. "Actually he said…"

"What?" he chuckled when she groaned.

"He said to tell you I like my eggs scrambled," she muttered.

"Well…" He cleared his throat, tongue darting over his lips when she tossed the edge of the blanket over his legs. "…Do you?"

"I prefer them over easy, but he can't cook them that way without busting the yolks." A giggle escaped when he caught her hand and pulled her to him.

"I can do sunny side up," he offered.

"Mm, perfect." She moved into his lap and their sigh was mutual as their lips met in a quick kiss.

"I can't cook bacon worth a damn though," he warned, hands sliding to her waist.

"I'll cook the bacon?" Her fingers swept over his jaw and cupped the back of his neck.

"Perfect," Oscar agreed with a grin.

She had no idea how much time, exactly, passed as she and Oscar kissed. Long enough for the fire to die down just a little. Long enough for her to grow overly warm. Long enough for her to push the blanket away and begin tugging the hem of his plaid flannel from the waistband of his jeans. She slipped her fingers beneath once it was free, nudging them beneath the soft cotton of his undershirt so she could feel the heat of his skin.

"I didn't plan this," he whispered between kisses. Hands sweeping down her sides, he caught her by the hips and brought her closer, sighing against her lips when her arms wrapped around him.

"Neither did I." Her skin was warm but goosebumps rose on her arms as his fingers danced to the small of her back. "I really came just to check on you."

"I'm glad you did." He broke his mouth free of hers and dipped his head to kiss her throat, clutching her to him while he guided her down onto the rug.

She had hoped their first time together would be in a bed, but she was too impatient to wait even the few moments needed to get candles and go upstairs. Later, she decided, running her fingers through his hair. They could go upstairs later. His lips were on hers again and she forgot about beds entirely, sandwiched between him and the plush rug.

He pulled back, gently shushing when she whined. She stared up at him, licking her lips as the firelight danced on face skin. His left side was in full light, the glow of the candles flickering along his right. She enjoyed the contrast and was about to sit up for another kiss when he began unbuttoning his shirt. She boosted up enough to wriggle out of her sweater and tossed it aside, hands moving to his waist and guiding the long-sleeved shirt he wore up his torso. He yanked it over his head then his lips were on hers, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her fleece-lined leggings. She reached to push them down, getting them just past her hips when one finger traced the band of her panties.

The kiss grew desperate. Natalie gripped his shoulders, his back, her urgent cries dying against his tongue as he teased and delved. The logs in the fire shifted and she heard them snap and crackle. His fingers dipped lower, and when his thumb began to strum her clit she broke the kiss with a needy cry. "Oscar…"

"Off," he whispered, pulling his hand from her pants with a groan. She watched, panting, as he sucked the wet from his fingers, and fell back on the plush rug when he reached for the waistband of her leggings. Her hips lifted and she let out a shaky gasp as they were peeled down then tossed aside. Then he was reaching for his belt.

She sat up, pushing his hands away so she could do it. Her lips met his in a needy kiss and though she wanted to, she found she couldn't pull away to drink in the sight of him after she unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. Settling on exploring with her hands, she hummed into his mouth while her fingers wrapped around his cock, swallowed his little groan as she began stroking him gently. His hands tugged at her bra and she whined when she was forced to let go of him long enough for him to drag the straps down her arms.

"Fuck," he breathed, hands grasping her thighs and squeezing.

"Yeah," she gasped. Her hips squirmed closer. She was slick – his fingers had made sure of that – and when she had wriggled close enough to feel the tip of him glide along her slit, she moaned.

He whispered his name, a faint plea, fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted so she straddled his lap fully. He leaned back, breath hissing between his teeth, his eyes blazing brighter than the fire.

"Oh god," she moaned raggedly as she sank down on him, hands flying to his shoulders. He filled her, stretched her, sending ripples of delight through her that made her toes curl and her thighs shake. Oscar didn't rush her, hands gripping and stroking as she shivered through the sensations. She unclenched her fingers from his shoulders and found his lips for a kiss, rolling her hips slowly.

"Yeah, nice and slow," he whispered. His palms glided up her sides, thumbs reaching to stroke the outer curves of her breasts. She watched his tongue dart over his lips as he leaned back slightly. Then his fingers were gently pinching and pulling at her nipples, tugging until she was whining.

"Oscar," she gasped, grasping his wrists. Her hips rolled faster and she pushed down hard, need beginning to take over. She felt and heard herself grow wetter, then his low grown that signaled he'd felt it, too. Letting go of him, she focused on keeping her motions slow, ignoring the urge to bounce wildly.

His hands dropped to her thighs, landing heavy, stinging lightly. He squeezed, nails scraping, then pushed her thighs further apart. He released a harsh breath and she waited for him to lie back and continue giving her full control. One hand drifted upward and his eyes lit as the tips of his fingers grazed her clit and she squeezed her thighs together, pushing her hips forward to increase the pressure.

Then, in a blur, she was on her back. He was over her, expression intense and strained, her name a faint growl just as his lips met hers. In the brief moment of clarity she registered the juxtaposition of his tender kiss and the frantic, almost rough thrusts of his hips. Delight ripped through her, lifted her hips from the rug, sent one of her arms straight above her head, fingers clawing for purchase. A shriek tore from her throat, died in his mouth as his hand found hers. His fingers wedged between hers and squeeze, his hips never faltering their rhythm. Strumming her clit, he moaned when she trembled. Following as she shook and squirmed, he pushed harder, lips sliding to her cheek.

"C'mon," he whispered, hot and breathless.

"Yeah," she panted, tightening her hold on his hand. Squeezing her legs around him, she turned her head to one side, trying to snatch in a breath.

His hips shifted, sending him deeper, and his resulting moan made her weak. Head tipping back, she rolled beneath him, the faint understanding that it never felt this intense and wonderful before slipping to the back of her mind. The stubble on his jaw scraped her skin as his lips dragged down the side of her neck and she gulped in the bit of air she could manage, drinking in the scent of him.

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god," she whined. Her legs locked, muscles straining, and she heard his small sound of delight as her hips shoved upward. One second ecstasy was just out of reach and the next it was ripping through her, constricting her body then shaking it, forcing her lips to part and yanking a disjointed cry from her throat.

"Oh god," he moaned, low and deep, in her ear as she continued to shake. His thrusts grew irregular, harder, then suddenly he was a bundle of tension above her. She could feel the delight flow throughout his body, felt his cock pulse as he panted and moaned. Humming as he flooded her with searing heat, she parted her lips for his fervent kiss. A whine escaped when his fingers slid, trembling, to her hip, felt the shaking in his arm as it slipped around her, holding her to him.

Once the pulse in her ears slowed, she could hear the crackling of the fire. There was a distant, steady hum, and as the kiss grew tender she realized her ears were ringing. Her body was weak, covered in their sweat, and after his hand released hers she painstakingly lifted it to drape it around him. "Mm," she hummed when he sighed.

Oscar lifted up slowly, still panting, hair shining in the glow of the candles and the fire. Moaning as their flesh peeled away, he swept his hand from her hip to her face, thumb tracing her bottom lip. He didn't speak, merely stared into her eyes, and she thought she could read the emotion in his gaze. Licking his lips when she lowered her legs to the rug, he eased his hips back with a soft hiss.

She rolled to face him as he lay next to her, watching the firelight play on his face and highlight the sheen of sweat on his chest. He pushed his hair back, lips tilting into a smile, and she felt her heart skip at least four beats.

"Yeah?" he whispered when she smiled.

"Yeah," she echoed.

"You're beautiful, by the way," he murmured, stretching out his arm to grab the blanket.

"So are you," she said honestly, sighing as he brought the blanket over their bodies. His arm slipped under her, cradling her neck and she wiggled closer, enjoying the sensation of him smoothing her hair back.

"You are staying all night, right?" he asked after a moment.

"Mmhmm." She couldn't move if she wanted to. And she didn't want to. Ever, really, but more urgently, she didn't want to move right then. She wanted to feel the heat of his body against hers. The steady pounding of his heart beneath her ear. His hand in her hair. His lips on her forehead.

"For breakfast?"

She laughed, slow and with a groan, and lifted her head. "For you."

He grinned and it took her breath away all over again.

#f1 #oscar piastri #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #my writings > op > xmas #oscar piastri x oc #f1 x oc

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herzzgeist · 2 years ago

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"Beautiful Mind" - 4) Too Close For Comfort

Pairing: Law x fem!reader | Word count: 1.3k | Warnings: none

"Thank you for the ride, old lady!" - "My pleasure, go take shelter for a few hours, in the late afternoon you should be fine to go back to the harbour friends!", you thank the carriage driver while trying to climb down the vehicle.

Law stands at the end of the ladder, holding out his hands at you, ready for the impact that might come in. Knowing how clumsy you sometimes can be.

"Watch your step." - "I'm trying, your dress is restricting my leg movement. I-", it was too obvious. With your back turned to him you slip and fall right into your Captain.

The man grunts in annoyance, his arms hooked under yours. More relieved than embarrassed you look up at him: "Thanks." His large frame hovers over you, his face too close to yours. A sweat drop forms on his temple as he lets go of you.

The carriage drives off into the distance, as you wave the old lady goodbye. The storm creeps in stronger by the second. Few feet away from you lies the inn "the Snooping Snow Fox".

You tug on your Captain's sleeve: "Guess we'll have to wait till the snow subsides. Tea?" He's right behind you, giving off a long sigh. "Well, can't be helped. If the weather keeps us at bay like this.", the words dragged in an exasperated groan.

Opening the door you're welcomed with a warm fireplace and wiff of cardamom and cinnamon in the air. The smell of candles and wood mixing with herbs and spices reaches your nose. "I think we can enjoy ourselves here for the time being.", your smile practically shining, while you hang up Law's coat to dry.

The doctor enters right after you, taking in the inn's ambience. He brushes away the remaining snow from his shoulders and follows the small ball of happiness called (Y/n).

"Will you look at this! The cedar wood candle holders and oh good lord is that a redwood frame?", your excitement gives Law a warm feeling of calmess. He takes a seat at the table in the corner right next to the window.

"I'll fetch us something to eat and drink. What would you like?" - "Anything except bread.", he smirks, soaking in the positive vibes you spread so effortlessly. You nod understandingly with a raised brow, glinting at him boldly.

You cast a spell on him, his storm grey irises never wavering from you. There you were. Again. That smile.

Coming back with a tablet full of Antra town goodness, you place it on the table infront of Law: "I brought you some mochi and an apple cinnamon tea, they said it's something you'll have to try!"

Taking a seat next to him you reach for your own food and drink, digging in. The light of the fire dances around you two, warming up your freezing bodies.

Closely observing you, his thoughts spin around your tattoo on your neck. Unsure if he should ask you about it, he begins to fidget around the cup handle.

To your notice, you give the nervous man a soft smile: "Is something on your mind, Captain?" Uncertain how to give you an answer, Law lowers his voice as if it was the biggest secret you ever kept and leans in closer to you.

"Your tattoo...how are you feeling about it, (Y/n)-ya?", he stiffens out his words, unable to show any emotion at this point. It surprises you where this conversation is going. Gliding your palm along your inked neck: "I've been...thinking. I'm considering tattooing something new over it. To get a fresh start. A fresh breeze in my mind."

Your wholesomeness affects the surgeon of death more than he likes to admit. In thought you continue: "Maybe a vine of poison ivy ranking itself up my neck! That would look so epic!" A chuckle leaves you as you take a sip of the freshly brewed tea.

You don't notice right away when suddenly your tattoo is being touched by his rough but gentle fingertips: "That, or a vine of moonflowers." The daze makes itself vacant on your face, heat creeping into your skin.

For you, this moment could last forever. Enjoying the company of such a man of power, showing you a mellow side of his. Himself being absent minded aswell, he resumes: "I bet they would suit you, but no matter what you choose, it will look good on you."

The time you've spent together at the Snooping Snow Fox went by faster than you wished it would.

The snow storm has eased and so you continue to fullfill your duty. Back outside again you enjoy the cold breeze once more. Snuggling yourself into Law's coat again, you carefully listen to the crunch of snow beneath your feet.

Your Captain holds a look out for your shops you supposedly need to visit, before travelling back to the submarine. He sees a group of people gathering around a few vending stands and grander looking buildings in the distance.

"Wolf-" - "Yes, Snow leopard?", before he continues his train of thought, he looks at you a little strained: "Did you just call me Snow leopard?" You snort at his reaction, but keep a calm demeanor.

Pointing at his hat you explain: "Your hat. It reminds me of the pattern of a snow leopard's fur. Since you always call me by my pirate name, I just couldn't resist calling you something that resembles to you the most as well."

You could've sworn you saw his serious expression vanish for only a split second and a tint of red rushing over him, when the tip of his hat quickly hides it all away. What a shame.

Law smirks and takes a few steps closer to you. Now towering over you once more, he jests: "And a wolf is resembling to you?" - "I dare believe so. I mean, a spotted seal would suit you too. It's all cute and fuzzy. Which ever you'd like to prefer."

The Captain scrunches his nose, snickers at you mockingly and leans down to you: "I think I prefer option one, thank you."

Both of you just come to realise how close you actually are to eachother. Clearing his throat the doctor straightens himself and motions you to ready yourself.

"Hurry up, we have to make a stop for medical supplies as well!" - "Wh-what, again?" You heard your Captain.

Catching up to him he rumbles at you: "Oh and by the way Wolf, mention the Snow leopard thing once to one of your crew mates, and it's off with your head."

In amusement you agree and make a zipper motion over your lips, to signalise your discrecy.

Swearing inwardly, Law's jaw tenses up as he thinks to himself: "This woman, what is she up to? I can only hope this won't mess up my plans."

After you finished gathering all the supplies you needed, you head back to the submarine, the sun already sinking into the horizon.

As you see the Polar Tang in the distance floating in the deep blue water, you pick up the pace: "What a day. Can't wait for the amazing dinner tonight, Penguin prepared for us!" - "Weren't you supposed to help?"

In denial you purse your lips and look any other way except to Law's: "I got the supplies, so I should be fine." That childish side nearly reaches the man's funny bone: "Oh really?"

The last sun rays kissed your face, encircling your whole frame. You sigh out in reminiscence. Wishing this day could last forever. "Hey Captain, race you to the sub?"

A challenging grin widening your lips. The doctor huffs suprised: "You're challenging your Captain? This will be too easy, but mind the grocery bags they're quite heav- hey!" - "Then come on, Snow leopard. The Wolf is already outrunning you!"

Unfairly you already sprinted off, calling back to him. Appalled you hear him scream in the distance: "What did I tell you about that leopard thing!"

#one piece #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #law x fem!reader #law x female reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic fluff #x reader #law x y/n #Beautiful Mind #SFW

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wyrdstonethenovel · 1 month ago

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27. Matters of the Empire

AN: this blog is where I post my novel so it gets off my hard drive. I post a new update every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Follow for magic, a good ol fashioned 'fight for a throne' and as we learn in this chapter.... a mounting rebellion. Dun. Dun. Dun. Enjoy.

XXVII. MATTERS OF THE EMPIRE

Admrilia glowered at the two story sandstone walls that barricaded Legate Xur’s private villa. She frowned at the mature palm trees over the walls, wondering how the legate’s murderers could have climbed over the slanted walls. Governor Kai groaned as he was eased down from the palanquin. Admrilia waited for his feet to touch the cobblestone streets before approaching the gates of the villa. They were unlocked.

The grounds were modest. Well kept considering the desert's extreme heat. Palms and tall shrubs lined the entire perimeter of the yard. Admrilia frowned. “And he kept no family, no company?” She asked as they entered the main house.

“No princess.” Wyn-Kai struggled to keep up with her long stride. “The legate never married or had children of his own. His life revolved around the legion. After his retirement, he became increasingly reclusive.”

Admrilia turned to the Governor. “Why is that?”

“The legate was nearly two decades my senior. I think at a certain point, a man craves the ability to pass with dignity.”

“Are we certain he didn’t die of natural causes?” Advisor Khispen asked.

“His slit throat suggested otherwise.” Wyn-Kai said flatly. “Come. I should show you the study. This is where his servants found him.”

“Where were his guards?” Admrilia asked as they walked up a narrow stairwell to the second floor landing.

“The ones he had kept watch on the estate at all hours of the night. We can certainly track them down in the city for you to talk to if you wish.” Wyn-Kai pushed open a set of double cedar doors. Admrilia hid her couch at the dusty air.

Xur’s war spills were proudly displayed against the far walls. A vast collection from a long and storied career. Spears, swords, animal hides and kerai armor straddled a bold gold banner. The fabric was torn and singed displaying the motif of a ram. The last physical remnant of the destroyed House.

Xur’s collection was considerably impressive, but the rest of the room was sparsely furnished. The desk was barren of papers, with only a stylus and ink pot waiting on the left hand side of the chair. Admrilia walked forward, noticing the stain on the rich cyprus. She pointed to it and the Governor confirmed her suspicions. “Blood, yes. His throat was cut as he slept over his desk.”

“Was it common for him to fall asleep in his study?” Khispen asked.

“According to his household it had become increasingly common.”

“And his household?”

“They’ve been cleared. A few self-exiled after the incident. But you may speak to those who remain at the estate later if you wish.” Wyn-Kai said.

Admrilia nodded, filing the information around the room for later. She walked around the desk. “Entry?” She clipped.

“The door was locked from what I’ve been told. It was his preference when he was in his study to be left alone.”

Admrilia eyed the tall windows above the bookcases. She dragged the chair over to the bookcase and stepped onto it to gain a better view of the ledge. “A child couldn’t fit through here.” She scoffed. She looked down at her advisors. “His household very easily could have betrayed him.”

“Nothing's for certain.” Wyn-Kai disagreed.

“What the governor is neglecting to tell you princess Admrilia, is that no man could have fit through the window.” Advisor Clavo’s ocean blue eyes were filled with accusation. “But a talented kerai, perhaps one who could aiya into a bird, could easily have accomplished the task.”

Admrilia fought back her scoff as Wyn-Kai inclined his head. “That is our working theory as well. We have found evidence to substantiate that claim.” Wyn-Kai walked to the desk and produced a piece of papyrus from his robes. He hunched over, his brushstrokes quick and efficient. Admrilia dropped down from the chair and walked over. The Governor stepped aside to allow them to peer at the kiyr glyph.

“The assassin left this on his body. A calling card of sorts.”

Admrilia’s understanding of the complicated kiyr language was elementary at best but it appeared to be the visage of a woman sitting within a box. Or perhaps a roofline of sorts. Advisor Clavo hissed through his teeth. “What is it Advisor?” Admrilia asked.

“The Ten Houses of Ker.” Clavo’s thick hand pointed down at the glyph as if it personally offended him.

“The Ten?” Advisor Khispen asked.

“Yes. The symbol originated from the Ballad of the Ten.” Wyn-Kai cleared his throat. “House fought House through decades of strife, and their sons and daughters died. Over their bodies their father’s cried—”

“And from their children’s love the Houses unite.” Clavo spat. He scowled. “This is the symbol of Ker unification. This is the banner they rode under during the Ker Conquest, when all ten Houses joined forces against the Conqueror.”

“And now it’s the symbol of their rebellion.” Admrilia finished. She glanced up, Advisor Khispen and Clavo’s expressions grave. They mirrored her own.

“The legate’s last correspondence was with Legate Fillium over in De-Anu. But to be honest, Xur had no shortage of enemies.” Wyn-Kai said. “He was a destroyer of a House. That has not been forgotten. His hatred for the kerai was arguably greater than the Conquerors.”

“Don’t be a sympathizer.” Advisor Clavo said quietly.

“I’m simply providing the group context. The search for Legate Xur’s murderers will be extensive.”

“But more broadly, the whole territory could be teetering on the brink of rebellion. If we find the Legate’s killers, it could lead us to these insurrectionists.” The crushing weight of the Conqueror’s directive settled over her shoulders. Legate Xur’s killers could be as far as Pi-Yenja by now, or the rebellion's leader could be as close to those in this very room. Her eyes slid to Wyn-Kai the Wise. The Betrayer. Did her grandfather have it in him to rebel against the empire? After the Conqueror granted his House the mercy of life? Was Legate Xur’s murder some sort of elaborate scheme to get her here?

Admrilia bit her tongue, relishing briefly in the sharp sting. She could not accurse the Governor, her own family, of treason without considerable evidence. But she could hardly trust them either.

“There is more.” Wyn-Kai said. Alexandros and Flavius quickly shared disbelieving glances near the doorway. “Advisor Clavo, you asked me why the Uros are here. When they arrived, they claimed they knew nothing of your impending visit. They are here on behalf of your son. He wrote to me.”

Advisor Clavo snatched the outstretched letter. His eyebrows shoot higher and higher with each line of text. The advisor handed the letter over to Admrilia without a word. She immediately recoiled at the hideous penmanship. She silently read:

Governor Wyn-Kai,

I write to you with great urgency. It is with great humility that I admit that the city of De-Asha has failed to produce the Conqueror’s tribute for the upcoming triumph. The Conqueror has tasked me with recovering the most unusual prize. I am to present a star.

Admrilia paused, then reread the line. A star? How preposterous. Surely the Conqueror did not mean a physical star like the myths. Admrilia did not believe in destiny, or the stars as Asho did. No, she firmly believed that the wyrd myth was used by the Conqueror, and his forefathers before him, to justify the subjugation and continued conquest of the continent. End of story.

Unless, there is already one wyrdstone. Her mind rushed to reason. Why couldn’t there be others? Admrilia continued reading.

I firmly believe the Emperor desires a relic of the Conquering, a weapon of which the Ten kept fiercely hidden inside Anu-Uro-Set during the war. But the excavation of the site has yet to yield results. The nature of, and power of this star has alluded my men and I.

Admrilia’s mind spun like a top. Why was the Conqueror demanding such an extensive search? And if the wyrdstone did exist, and if she found it? Admrilia could nearly bask in the warm praise upon her skin as she presented this other star to the Conuqueror. A wyrdstone restored. Her duty to the Empire would be fulfilled. It surely would be enough to force the Conqueror to name her his heir. Admrilia could become Empress. Admrilia scanned the rest of the lines.

Upon learning of the legendary legate’s passing, I grow more frantic in my search. The city of De-Asha requests that all of Legate Xur’s personal accounts of the siege, as well as any supplemental documents be sent in our aid. I pray to the Stormlord, merciful is our god, that we may recover the star before the Conqueror’s arrival. I have sent an envoy in my stead. With great humility, Legate Titus Crassus Clavo.

Admrilia wordlessly passed the letter to Advisor Khispen. She walked over to the Legate’s bookcases. “Are the journals here?” She asked Wyn-Kai directly.

He eyed her knowingly. “No. His accounts are kept in the Houses private repository along with all other records of the Conquering.”

“Then we should go there next.” Admrilia nodded to herself. “We need to discover what connection Legate Xur had to all of this.”

“Of course.” Wyn-Kai bowed his head. “And do you wish for the Uro’s to join us?”

Advisor Clavo vigorously shook his head. “Absolutely not. You cannot seriously trust a matter this dire to those kerai dogs.” Clavo grumbled.

“Bring them.” Admrilia turned and eyed her advisor. “Your son clearly had entrusted them with a task of this magnitude. So either your son finds them useful to the empire or he is as dumb as a mule.” She fit the advisor with a piercing glare. “The blade stills close by either way.”

#web novel #writing #serial fiction #wyrdstonethenovel #queer fantasy #writers of tumblr #sapphic fantasy #wyrdstone #writblr #my writing #author #fantasy #high fantasy

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dankusner · 2 months ago

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Nuclear bunker sales increase, despite expert warnings they aren’t going to provide protection

When Bernard Jones Jr. and his wife, Doris, built their dream home, they didn’t hold back.

A grotto swimming pool with a waterfall for hot summer days. A

home theater for cozy winter nights.

A fruit orchard to harvest in fall.

And a vast underground bunker in case disaster strikes.

“The world’s not becoming a safer place,” he said.

“We wanted to be prepared.”

Under a nondescript metal hatch near the private basketball court, there’s a hidden staircase that leads down into rooms with beds for about 25 people, bathrooms and two kitchens, all backed by a self-sufficient energy source.

With water, electricity, clean air and food, they felt ready for any disaster, even a nuclear blast, at their bucolic home in California’s Inland Empire.

“If there was a nuclear strike, would you rather go into the living room or go into a bunker? If you had one, you’d go there too,” said Jones, who said he reluctantly sold the home two years ago.

Global security leaders are warning nuclear threats are growing as weapons spending surged to $91.4 billion last year.

At the same time, private bunker sales are on the rise globally, from small metal boxes to crawl inside of to extravagant underground mansions.

Critics warn these bunkers create a false perception that a nuclear war is survivable.

They argue that people planning to live through an atomic blast aren’t focusing on the real and current dangers posed by nuclear threats, and the critical need to stop the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction.

Meanwhile, government disaster experts say bunkers aren’t necessary.

A Federal Emergency Management Agency 100-page guide on responding to a nuclear detonation focuses on having the public get inside and stay inside, ideally in a basement and away from outside walls for at least a day.

Those existing spaces can provide protection from radioactive fallout, says FEMA.

But increasingly, buyers say bunkers offer a sense of security.

The market for U.S. bomb and fallout shelters is forecast to grow from $137 million last year to $175 million by 2030, according to a market research report from BlueWeave Consulting.

The report says major growth factors include “the rising threat of nuclear or terrorist attacks or civil unrest.”

Building bunkers

“People are uneasy and they want a safe place to put their family. And they have this attitude that it’s better to have it and not need it then to need it and not have it,” said Atlas Survival Shelters CEO Ron Hubbard, amid showers of sparks and the loud buzz of welding at his bunker factory, which he says is the world’s largest, in Sulphur Springs, Texas.

Hubbard said COVID lockdowns, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the outbreak of the Israel-Hamas war have driven sales.

On Nov. 21, in the hours after Russia’s first-ever use of an experimental, hypersonic ballistic missile to attack Ukraine, Hubbard said his phone rang nonstop.

Four callers ended up buying bunkers in one day, he said, and more ended up ordering doors and other parts for shelters they were already building.

Hubbard said his bunkers are built for all disasters.

“They’re good for anything from a tornado to a hurricane to nuclear fallout, to a pandemic to even a volcano erupting,” he said, sweeping his arms toward a massive warehouse where more than 50 different bunkers were under construction.

A loaded shotgun at arm’s length and metal mesh window shields to block Molotov cocktails nearby, Hubbard said he started his company after building his own bunker about 10 years ago.

He says callers ask about prices — $20,000 to multimillions, averaging $500,000 — and installations — they can go just about anywhere.

He said most days he sells at least one bunker.

Under Hubbard’s doomsday scenario, global tensions could lead to World War III, a situation he is prepared to live through.

“The good news about nuclear warfare,” he said, “if there ever was any, that it’s very survivable if you’re not killed in the initial blast.”

He’s not wrong, say U.S. government disaster preparedness experts.

“You want to go to your most robust building”

“Look, this fallout exposure is entirely preventable because it is something that happens after the detonation,” said Brooke Buddemeier a radiation safety specialist at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, where the U.S. government designs nuclear weapons.

Buddemeier and his colleagues are tasked with evaluating what could happen after an attack and how best to survive.

“There’s going to be a fairly obvious nuclear explosion event, a large cloud. So just getting inside, away from where those particles fall, can keep you and your family safe.”

Buddemeier and others in the U.S. government are trying to get Americans — who decades ago hid under desks during nuclear attack drills — educated about how to respond.

After a deadly and deafening blast, a bright flash and a mushroom cloud, it will take about 15 minutes for the radioactive fallout to arrive for those a mile or more away from ground zero, said Michael Dillon, a scientist at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory.

“It’s going to literally be sand falling on your head, and you’re going to want to get out of that situation. You want to go to your most robust building,” he said.

In their models, they estimate people may need to stay inside for a day or two before evacuating.

Image

The government’s efforts to educate the public were reinvigorated after a false alarm missile alert in Hawaii in 2018 caused widespread panic.

The emergency alert, which was sent to cellphones statewide just before 8:10 a.m., said: “BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”

For the next 40 minutes there were traffic jams, workers running into and out of buildings, families huddling in their bathrooms, students gathering in gyms, drivers blocking tunnels, all in an attempt to seek shelter, without any clear idea of what “seek immediate shelter” actually meant.

Today the federal government offers a guide to prepare citizens for a nuclear attack that advises people to find a basement or the center of a large building and stay there, possibly for a few days, until they get word about where to go next.

“Gently brush your pet’s coat to remove any fallout particles�� it says, adding that the 15-minute delay between bomb and fallout allows “enough time for you to be able to prevent significant radiation exposure.”

Jeffrey Schlegelmilch, who directs the FEMA-backed National Center for Disaster Preparedness at Columbia University, said “the scenarios of a nuclear detonation are not all or nothing.”

If a small number of weapons detonate rather than all-out war, he said, sheltering inside a large building to avoid the fallout could save lives.

“Underground bunkers aren’t going to protect people”

Nonproliferation advocates bristle at the bunkers, shelters or any suggestion that a nuclear war is survivable.

“Bunkers are, in fact, not a tool to survive a nuclear war, but a tool to allow a population to psychologically endure the possibility of a nuclear war,” said Alicia Sanders-Zakre at the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons.

Sanders-Zakre called radiation the “uniquely horrific aspect of nuclear weapons,” and noted that even surviving the fallout doesn’t prevent long-lasting, intergenerational health crises.

“Ultimately, the only solution to protect populations from nuclear war is to eliminate nuclear weapons.”

Researcher Sam Lair at the James Martin Center for Nonproliferation Studies says U.S. leaders stopped talking about bunkers decades ago.

“The political costs incurred by causing people to think about shelters again is not worth it to leaders because it forces people to think about what they would do after nuclear war,” he said.

“That’s something that very, very few people want to think about. This makes people feel vulnerable.”

Lair said building bunkers seems futile, even if they work in the short term.

“Even if a nuclear exchange is perhaps more survivable than many people think, I think the aftermath will be uglier than many people think as well,” he said.

“The fundamental wrenching that it would do to our way of life would be profound.”

That’s been a serious concern of Massachusetts Congressman James McGovern for almost 50 years.

“If we ever get to a point where there’s all out nuclear war, underground bunkers aren’t going to protect people,” he said.

“Instead, we ought to be investing our resources and our energy trying to talk about a nuclear weapons freeze, initially.” Image

Next, he said, “we should work for the day when we get rid of all nuclear weapons.”

Year after year he introduces legislation pushing for nonproliferation, but looking out his office window at the Capitol, he said he’s disappointed by the lack of debate over what will be a $1 trillion expenditure to build and modernize the U.S. arsenal.

“The stakes, if a nuclear weapon is ever used, is that millions and millions and millions of people will die. It really is shocking that we have world leaders who talk casually about utilizing nuclear weapons. I mean, it would be catastrophic, not just for those that are involved in an exchange of nuclear weapons, but for the entire world.”

McGovern pushed back against FEMA’s efforts to prepare the public for a nuclear attack by advising people to take shelter.

“What a stupid thing to say that we all just need to know where to hide and where to avoid the most impacts of nuclear radiation. I mean, really, that’s chilling when you hear people try to rationalize nuclear war that way,” he said.

Nuclear war was far from a couple’s mind when they went house-hunting in Southern California a few years ago.

They wanted a home to settle down and raise their family, and they needed extra garage space.

They spotted an online ad for a home with at least eight parking spots.

On the basketball court, there was a metal hatch.

Beneath it was a bunker.

This was Jones’ former home, which Jones said he put up for sale for family reasons.

The husband, who spoke on condition of anonymity because of concerns about his family’s privacy, went ahead and bought Jones’ home, bunker and all.

They aren’t particularly worried about nuclear war, and haven’t spent a night in the bunker, but they have stored food and medical supplies down there.

“We have told some of our friends, if something goes crazy and gets bad, get over here as fast as possible,” the husband said.

“It does provide a sense of security.”

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years ago

Photo

“DAMAGE CAUSED TO POWER LINES,” Montreal Star. August 13, 1931. Page 38. ---- From Yesterday's Late Editions ---- Shown above are some of the power transmission poles found damaged this morning, the photo inset at the left, showing one of the steel frames an Ile Jesus after being dynamited at the base. The large picture shows one of the towers carrying power lines from Shawinigan Falls after it had been unbolted at its base. The property is owned by the Montreal Light, Heat and Power Company, and it is alleged by the company that the damage was caused by some of their former linemen now on strike, or by sympathizers. //// “STRIKERS DENY SABOTAGE CHARGE,” Montreal Star. August 13, 1931. Page 38. ---- Three of Four Main Leads Put Out of Commission Yesterday ---- (From Yesterday's Late Editions) Sabotage, involving little material damage but endangering the whole electrical supply of Montreal, was committed this morning about 3 o'clock, when a tower carrying the power lines from Shawinigan Falls was unseated from its bed by dynamite and three poles carrying power from the Cedar Rapids plant were also dynamited. The result was that three of the four Shawinigan lines went out of commission and the damage done endangered the whole of the electrical supply from that source. Montreal was thus nearly completely deprived at water and power for a few hours.

The work on the tower was done an angle near St. Francois de Sales on Ile Jesus. Removing the two bolts from each of the outer uprights of the tower, those who did the damage, officials assert, expected that the weight of the wires would pull the top over to the other tower which carries the parallel wires. This it failed to do, apparently, and the men then placed under one of the standards, and thus unseated the outer base of the tower which fell to to its neighbor and an put out of commission the two wires on the one lower and one of the two on the other.

An explosion was heard about 3 o’clock this morning by neighboring farmer, who looked out of his window and saw the flash of the wires, but as he thought “it was just something wrong with the wires.” When he saw the leaning tower later this morning he telephoned the Montreal Light Heat and Power.

The Light, Heat, and Power Corporation attribute the damage to work done by some of their former linesmen who are now on strike because the company refuses to recognize their union. Officials of the union involved disclaim any knowledge of acts of sabotage on the part of their members and deny that they are responsible.

DAMAGE IN WEST END. Vandals were also busy in the western suburbs last night. A steel standard at Summaries hearing four high-tension circuits was partly destroyed by a blast that shattered half the bane of the standard, broke three of the lines, made a crater five feet in diameter and nearly three feet deep, and left the standard leaning precariously.

Elevators at City Hall Out of Order Four elevators at the City Hall could not be run this morning, due, it is understood, to power shortage. Officials in the civic buildings are apt to blame the lack of sufficient "white coal” to those who have recently, been deliberately wrecking poles and lines of the Montreal Light Heat and Power Company.

In order to cope with a power shortage which is estimated to have cut the normal service in half, lights were cut down to a minimum.

Strike Statement The following statement was issued this afternoon of the striking members of the Union of Linesmen and Helpers have been blamed for sabotage and damage to the Company's property, the men have organised 20 crews who are now patroling the city night and day in an effort to protect the Company's property and the public, so that there interference with the street lights, As we realize that if these are out Montreal would be at mercy of anyone who wished to the take advantage of such a situation to violate the law and embarrass not only the citizens but the large number of tourists who are at present visiting this city.

We are using every effort to co-operate with the police in their endeavor to track down those who are either in the employ of the company or other outside bodies and unknown to the men and endeavoring to destroy the men's cause. Every crew has definite instructions to inform the authorities of any suspects they come in contact with."

#montreal #sabotage #strike #linemen #montreal light heat and power company #énergir #utilities company #power company #power outage #canadian electrical trades union #electrical workers #union recognition #union men #working class struggle #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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yeyinde · 2 years ago

Text

coorie | John "Soap" MacTavish x f!Reader

He pants against your mouth, and you can feel the stretch of his grin—a languorous, satiated smile like the sunrise in the winter. All dark, endlessly so, and then suddenly— Johnny feels like dusk. The first breach of the morning over the lands; a sleepy haze of light eating into the tenebrose that shrouds everything around you. A steak of ochre, gold, in a world of darkness; the varicoloured smear of pastel clouds breaking over the horizon.

Being with him is a little bit like cupping the sun in the palm of your hand.

warnings: soft!Soap, super soft smut, fluff, domestic bliss, two idiots being drunk off of each other; female gendered anatomy, female!reader; very little substance just pure fluff

word count: 4k

notes: coorie is a cuddle in Scots and that's the cutest thing to me. we just have cwtsh. also, you can't look me in the eye and tell me this man ISN'T the little spoon.

The scent of wych elm and smoked cedar fill the back of your throat when you breathe in. The cloying richness tickles your nose; the heft of it is familiar, heady. Your head—fuzzy and thick from sleep—swims with the visceral sense of comfort that settles deep in your lungs when you pull it in. You know this smell.

(Have a piece of it tucked under your pillow.

Did you see where my shirt went? The one I got from Aubin? I went runnin' in it this mornin', hen. Can't find it anywhere.

Maybe it's in the wash.

Aye, maybe.

You shoved it under the one he used, tucked it there for those nights that never seemed to end; when you always found yourself missing him the most.

Your secret to keep.)

You're caught in the middle of sleep and wakefulness; a purgatory where the world does not yet exist outside of the soft sheets dragging over your skin. Torn between the dream you were having that is still within reach (the taste of alder on your tongue, a hand across your pulse), and the cognisance that seeps inside: the birds outside of the window chittering, the cars driving across wet cobblestone, honking in the distance.

And then—

There is a weight on you that—like the smell— doesn't belong.

You'd gone to bed alone. Have done so for months now. The only company you keep is just the shirt, whose enticing scent has long since faded.

You feel it, now.

A weight. A presence. Something notches on your shoulder, a blunt pressure digging into your neck—a heaviness securing you to the bed, locked over your chest, and across your thighs.

Your blankets could never be so firm, so warm.

The dream slips into the recesses of your mind when your eyes crack open. A little sliver. The world bathed in bright gold.

A rasp of something gritty and sharp scratches over the soft flesh below your shoulder, above the swell of your breast. The graze of it makes you smile. Makes you lull your head to the side until your nose meets wry curls that tickle your lips.

You breathe him in. Sweat. Aged wood.

He must have snuck in sometime during the night.

(Finally, finally—)

The world resumes in pieces. The top of his brown hair under your eyes, his face nestled into the crook of your neck, soft plumes of humid breath on your throat, his grip over your ribs. Thighs tangled together.

Like this, with your head dazed and spooled with the gossamer of somnolence, you can't begin to know where he ends and you begin. You merge together. A mess of limbs, heavy and thick with the scent of sleep. Warm milk. Honey.

Johnny sleeps like a child. Always grasping out, reaching for you. He clings to you; body wrapping around yours as if he was trying to merge atoms.

He might be. Johnny is a cuddler. The kind that sticks to you like glue, and refuses to let go.

A slow, languid smile curls on your lips. Your arm laid on the pillow he's supposed to be using lifts, and falls gently to the top of his head. Nails rake through the coarse hair, scratching his scalp. His shorn sides are a little longer than you remember it, tufts of hair the same length as your fingernail. He'll need a haircut.

You follow the trail of his mohawk, sliding down the nape of his neck, the knob of his spine. Real. Solid.

You'll never tell him, but when he's gone, you often dream of him at night. The sweetness of it carries into the morning where it's ground into pain when you remember he's gone. When your fingers slide through the sheets in search of the man who isn't there, and meet the cold, barren emptiness across from you.

He never sleeps in his spot, anyway. Always somehow wrapped around you instead.

But this—

Waking up to the smell of him thick in your nose, the taste of him on your fingertips—it's the closest to heaven you think you'll ever get.

At your touch, Johnny moans, low and rough. The sound drenched in sleep, and needy. A heat—soft, fluttering—spumes in your belly. The weight of his knee pressing into your hip bone makes you take a sharp, deep breath.

It's been too long since his skin touched yours. Since the heat of him seeped to your marrow.

Your nails dance down his spine, relishing the feel of his hard muscles under your palm. Johnny makes another noise—a soft husk, full of sleepy longing—and it goes straight to your core. His body flexes, coiling over you. He snuggles in deeper, as if that was even possible. But you know Johnny.

Any gap, any space, between your bodies will be sought after and conquered.

His nose pushes into your pulse point, stubble chafing your skin. The weight of him is solid. Comforting. Johnny's hand curls around your ribs. You melt into his embrace. Soft, gummy. He's sickly sweet—your gruff military man.

His knee stretches when he moves, his hip nudging into you.

He's naked. You feel the thickness of him twitching against your side. Wetness leaks, dampens your skin.

You burrow your face into his crown, and catch the scent of gunfire and polymer that clings to the tips of his cropped hair.

He didn't even shower. Stripped down, sleepy and jetlagged, and slipped into your bed.

Nails rove over his broad shoulders until you're locked into some parody of a hug. You feel the heft of his bicep beneath your hands. The weight of his burning flesh over your body. Clad in only panties and a loose top, you feel the fever billowing inside of you.

There is something intimate about waking up next to someone nude. A stark thing that settles in your ribs, clotting in the brackets between them.

The flavour of vulnerability. Touches of domesticity. It leaks into your marrow, bringing with it something soft and tender.

Illicit.

It brims up. Buoying to the surface. A low-grade fever itching under your skin. The blunt press of his hard, leaking cock on your skin is nothing short of enticing.

Your thighs part as much as they're able to with his weight on you, hand slipping out from under the pillow. You take a moment to run your fingers over his forearm, nestled snugly under your breasts. The weight of him makes your chest flutter. Heart seizing when he squeezes you tight to him.

The coarse hair of his thigh on your navel feels good under your palm. Muscular. He told you once when he brought you to a football game that he used to play. Still does when he has the time. A group of his old schoolmates on a rare Saturday when everyone is around.

You can feel it in the thick bulk of him. Years of practice, training.

But now—

It's in the way.

His thigh is too thick for you to slip your hand over.

Your core throbs. The sticky press of his hard cock against you does little to abate the ache growing inside.

A huff spills from your lips. His hair flutters. Another noise spills from deep within his chest when you push at his leg, trying to slip it down lower so you can sink your fingers into your aching pussy.

It doesn't work. He tucks himself closer to you, and rocks his hips into yours.

A wry twist of your lips. At least someone is getting off.

You try again, wriggling.

He moves, pulls his hand out from where it's caught between the bed and your chest, running his warm, rough palm over your skin.

The movement makes you pause, hand falling still on his knee. You went to bed late last night, having stayed up watching trashy television until the early hours. He must have snuck in sometime after.

Your eyes skirt to the clock on the wall. It's barely mid-morning.

He needs sleep.

Did you wake him—?

He dips under the hem of your cropped sleep shirt, and cups your breast in his palm.

"Johnny—," you breathe, just barely a whisper.

He groans low. Flashes fan over your collarbones. "Couldn't wait for me?"

His accent is thick in the morning, groggy and flooded with sleep. You shiver, hips lifting slightly off the bed. You're stopped, of course, by the weight of him.

"You took too long," you murmur, panting into his hair.

He grumbles; the noise reverberates through his chest. "Sorry, bonnie. Got my girl all worked up. Needy for it."

His fingers brush over your nipple. The flash of pleasure makes your toes curl, his name leaves your mouth in a breathless plea.

"I know, I know…" he husks into your neck. "I'll take care'a ya, bonnie."

"Wanna make you feel good—"

"Nah, dove. Just be a good girl for me, aye?"

"Johnny—"

His fingers rub your nipple until your peak hardens, pinched softly between his thumb and forefinger. His cock presses into you—little cants of his hip that make you burn for it.

It's been so long.

Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulder. "Please, baby, I can't take it—"

His laugh huff across your neck. "Needy little thing."

His thigh slides off your waist before you can snap something back, lips pressing to your pulse. It makes your breath catch when you feel the graze of his warm mouth, his tongue; it laves over your skin, carrying the flash of teeth. A tease, a nip. Between the burn from the stubble, and the soft bites to your skin, your neck will soon be a mosaic of his devotion.

Your thighs part, desperation pooling inside of you with each brush of his warm, calloused fingers over your nipple. You want it, ache for it—

"Fuck, bonnie." His hips rut into you, cock so hard you think it might bruise your flesh. It leaks prespend over your skin until you're tacky with it.

Your mouth waters. You wonder if he'll taste of the beach—

Your head lulls, nose nuzzling his crown. "Wanna taste you later, baby. Missed having your cock in my mouth—"

"Steamin' Jesus, bonnie—," it's bitten off in a moan. A desperate rut. His fingers spasm over your breast. "Cannae say shite like that when I haven't had this pretty mouth in months —"

"You should learn to be quicker with the missions then."

His teeth sink into your neck, and you sputter, thighs snapping shut to stem the deep ache.

Johnny's tongue snakes out, laving over the indents left behind by his teeth. "I come home to you as quickly as I can, bonnie."

Your voice is barely a whisper. "I know."

He groans into your neck when he moves, his hand slipping out from under his body, and resting on the pillow. His head raises, your eyes meet. Golden honey, rich and thick and full of want, gazes at you from under heavy lids.

His smile feels like the dawning sun curving over the horizon. A flash of teeth. His forehead drops, presses to yours. Noses brushing. You breathe in him.

"Hey," he murmurs against your lips, the barest touch. "I missed ya, hen."

Your hands curl over his shoulders, knees parting to let him closer. A smile, soft and gentle, pulls on the corners of your mouth. "Hiya. Missed you, too."

He ruts into the seam of your thighs, heavy cock sliding over your clothed cunt. "God, bonnie. Thought about ya always. Couldn't get you outta my head."

"You say that every time you come home."

His head ducks down, muzzling his stubble against your cheek. You feel the press of teeth under your jaw. "An' I mean it every time."

"I'm already gonna fuck you, babe. No need to try and charm me into it," you taunt, nails raking softly down is back. A tickle. A tease. His hips jerk into yours, a groan slipping from his lips.

"Charm? Oh, bonnie—," his voice is rich caramel, thick and sweet in your ear. "I'm just fuckin' crazy for ya, cariño."

You huff. "Cariño? That's new."

"Sí, mi corazón."

Your brows raise. "I love how even when speaking a completely different language, you still sound incredibly Scottish."

"Aye," he nips your chin again. "You can take the Scot out of Scotland, but you can't—"

Your mouth presses to his, catching teeth. "Just shut up and fuck me, already, Johnny."

His mouth captures yours, tongue delving into it with a groan. He tastes of thistle. Your breath comes out in sharp pants against his cheek.

Your hand slides down his arms, reaching under to tug at your panties. When he feels you move, he laughs low in his throat, lips clumsily glued to yours.

"Gonna pull 'em to the side for me? That desperate, mi reina?"

"Very," you breathe, eyes lidded and heavy. "I only had my fingers, you know."

He looks good like this—bathed in the gentle sunlight, sunkissed from his adventure in Mexico—and leaning over you, eyes hungry. Right where he belongs.

"Yeah?" He rasps, swallowing thickly. His hand follows the path set by your own, fingers curling under your knee. "Was it good, bonnie? Did you fuck yourself senseless and think of me?"

"It was good," you whine, back arching when his cock brushes your wet cunt. The head taps against your clit. "But it wasn't you."

"Gotta give my girl a proper pounding then, aye?"

"Yes," you hiss, eyes fluttering when he takes his cock in hand, and thrusts it through your drenched folds. "I want it, Johnny."

"Push 'em to the side, bonnie. I need to be in your cunt, now."

Whimpering, your fingers hook on the gusset of your damp panties, pulling them back. Opening yourself for him, and desperate for it.

"Wanna fuck you proper later on," he rasps, his cock nudging against your cunt. "But I can't wait, dove. Fuck, the things you do to me—"

You're not wet enough for it to be seamless, but it's been months since you felt him split you apart, and the burn, the sting, of him stretching you open all over again makes your toes curl. It rides the edge of indelible pain and pleasure; an amalgam of being both excruciatingly good and too much all at the same time. Overwhelming. Perfect.

Your legs hook on his thighs when he nudges the head of his cock inside of you, opening yourself wider for him to take.

He breathes out your name on a shuddered rasp that makes your cunt clench, pulsing with the delirious ache of having him within you once more. Hair dampened with sweat, his upper lip is slick when he presses his mouth to you; you taste salt on your tongue when he licks into your mouth. Your hands roam his back when he pushes in deep, flushed against you.

"Gonna move, coriño;" he slurs into your mouth, eyes fluttering shut. "Can you take it?"

"Give it to me, Johnny."

Before Johnny, you'd never known fucking could be so intense when it's slow; just languid rolls of his hips, his mouth fixed on yours, devouring you. It's not rushed: he isn't fucking you as hard as he can. It's—

Tender. Sweet.

Johnny fills you deep, the head of his cock nudging something inside of you that has your nails digging into his shoulders, whimpering against his mouth. The slow drag of his cock sliding out of you has your walls singing from the blunt pressure. The torturously deep thrust back in, hips jerking lazily into yours. It all pools together, an endless coil of pleasure that makes you moan, that has you panting into his ear, begging him for more.

The equinox of it all comes when he rests his forehead back on yours, noses pushed together. There is no space between you—face to face, chest to chest—and he ruts into you like this, his eyes molten suns, nearly blinding, as they gaze at you.

Johnny makes you melt. Makes your veins pool with liquid bliss, your core tightening with each sharp thrust against your gummy walls, and every slow drag out until only the tip remains. He hits deep, fills you completely, and it's good—it's so good —but it's this you can't get enough of.

The way he covers your whole body with his, tucked into every corner and crevasse until all you can see and feel is him. He shares your breath; each exhale is his inhale. Eyes fixed on you; dark lashes fluttering when you tighten around him.

These moments with Johnny make your head spin—a realm carved out where only the two of you exist; where you meld together and become one entity feasting off of the other.

His cock, heavy and fat inside of your pussy. Your hands running along his back. His mouth sealing over yours, panting deep and ragged until all you can taste and smell is him. Until all you can see is the caramel depths that gaze at you—love in liquid; flecks of affection in gold. His pupils blown wide from pleasure, nearly eclipsing the stunning brecciated hazel. His lids lower, cresting in euphoria.

He's close—you can feel it in the way his thighs tense, his back trembles; in the sloppy way he fucks into you, mouthing along your lips. Lost in a white haze of pleasure, and too drunk on the way you tighten around him to notice.

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades when his thrusts become choppy, harder. Legs spread wider to take him, ankles crossing over his tailbone. You melt into the sweat-slicked sheets, body liquifying with each snap of his hips.

His chin rakes over your cheek, stubble grating against the skin. He murmurs apologies into your ear, tongue dipping out to taste the mess he made of you.

"M'so fuckin' close, hen," he slurs into your temple, the bulk of his upper torso sliding over you. You're trapped under him, forehead pressed into the column of his throat as he bends your knees to your chest. "Fuck—!"

The light catches on the gold chain around his neck. The cross swinging like a pendulum between you. It draws your eye, and fills your chest with a deep spume of inexorable affection. Something so mundane, but so him; a little thing he always carries, keeps with him. A little piece of familiarity after months of loneliness.

Seeing it outside of just a bittersweet dream brings tears to your eyes.

You missed him. The heavy cedar scent, the way he kisses you like he can't get enough of the taste, how he clings to you at night, glueing himself to you in a futile effort to merge together into one being, his stupid haircut—

"Fuck," you choke, head full of nothing but him. "I missed you so much—"

"Me, too, hen," he groans into your crown, fucking deep into you. "Fuck, bonnie. I need you to cum for me. Need to feel you cumming on my cock—"

His words congeal inside your core, pleasure rippling from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers that you bury inside his flesh. The thick heft of him makes you dizzy, makes you feel that tight coil pulling taut with each sloppy thrust he makes against it.

His body sags into you, head burrowing into your neck. The grind of his pelvis against your clit as you spasm around him, clenching tight as he works you up toward nirvana, rutting deep, and breathing heavy into your collarbones. Glued, once more, to you.

Johnny holds you steady, firm. His whole body cresting over yours, and keeping you locked to bed. Under him. Sheltered from harm. From the ugliness he keeps at bay.

My hero, you once whispered to him playfully in a pub when you first met. Coy and teasing and high of the confidence that comes with a gorgeous man looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. You feel it, now, nestled deep inside of your chest. Your hero, finally home.

It's the soft chants of your name, the choked-out confessional about how much he missed you, thought of you all the way on the opposite side of the globe, and now that he has you, it feels like heaven. How you have Nirvana nestled between your soft thighs, and he can't get enough of it. Of you. He's drunk off the taste.

It's a slow ascent with Johnny. Never rushed, never hurried. He takes you like he's savouring you, like he'll never have the chance to again.

(On your first date, he took you hiking.

And years later, it still feels like you're climbing a mountain.)

A slow, lazy incline. A soft, feathery descent.

"M'goin' crazy fer ya, cariño—," he pushes in deep, the head of his cock kissing your cervix. His voice is shattered, broken. The fractures in his words, the hard roll of his hips pressing down on your clit, all push you over the edge. Head full of that white pleasure that dances in front of your eyes like little galaxies in the cosmos.

The pulse of your cunt around him makes his hips grind into yours, cock twitching as he spills himself inside of you. A low moan slips from his reddened lips, and he stifles it when he catches your mouth, sharing it with you.

(It tastes of sugared milk and cinnamon.)

He stays like that for a moment, hips rocking against you as rides himself through, your pussy clenching around him, milking him for everything—every drop.

Thistle heavy on your tongue, his moan nestled in your throat—it feels a bit like waking up again. A yawning crest into wakefulness. A slow roll into cognisance.

He pants against your mouth, and you can feel the stretch of his grin—a languorous, satiated smile like the sunrise in the winter. All dark, endlessly so, and then suddenly—

Johnny feels like dusk. The first breach of the morning over the lands; a sleepy haze of light eating into the tenebrose that shrouds everything around you. A steak of ochre, gold, in a world of darkness; the varicoloured smear of pastel clouds breaking over the horizon.

Being with him is a little bit like cupping the sun in the palm of your hand.

His eyes slide open—a slow, shuddering roll—and you see morning dew in the whites; golden rays in the hazel. There are shadows, proof of a hard-earned victory, but he is not the type to let it linger.

(You're not the type to let him.)

Sleepy, dazed from pleasure, he grins again. Nose pressed to yours, heart thundering against your chest.

"M'not leavin' again for a while, now," he breathes into your lips, nose sliding across yours. He nuzzles his cheek your raw flesh, already scratched from his stubble. His voice is naked bliss when murmurs: "and I intend to stay inside this pretty cunt all day."

You huff, head listing as you let him smother your cheek and neck in affectionate kisses, nips. "You need a shower. You smell like Price. And sweat."

Teeth to your pulse. "And sex. Your sweet pussy—"

"You need a haircut."

"Thought you wanted me to grow it out."

You pretend to consider, hands sliding from his back to the nape of his neck. "I want something to pull."

"You can."

"It's too short."

He's shaking his head, temple knocking into your chin. "Nah, you can still pull. You can steer me later when my face is buried in your—"

"Is that why you came home?" You tease, curling a lock of his hair around your fingers. "Surely there were pretty girls in Mexico."

His head lifts. Rising suns, molten honey, meet yours. "Nah, got the prettiest hen squeezing my cock right now."

"God," you huff, walls fluttering around him with each gentle movement he makes. "You're incorrigible."

"M'a man starved. Kept away from my girl for too long."

His words are teasing, but his eyes—

Your breath catches, and stutters in your chest. "Johnny."

"Can't get enough of ya, hen." He confesses, words muttered into your chin. "Don't plan on lettin' you go. Ever."

"You won't ever need to."

His smile feels like coming home. "You can bet on that."

His hand reaches under the pillow, eyes playful. "Now, about you stealin' my shirts…"

Your cheeks heat when he pulls it out. "How did that get there?"

"You're a cheeky little thing, ain't you?"

You place your hand on his chest, lashes fluttering. Coy. Kittenish. "I just miss you sometimes, is all."

His eyes are pockets of slate, chiselled deep with a heart-wrenching affection that blisters through you. "Oh, hen."

Open, raw. He descends on you, mouth catching yours. Kissing him is always intense, always—

He pulls away. A flash of teeth. A smirk.

"But stop taking my good ones at least."

#soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod

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tsukiihime · 4 years ago

Text

Heartbreak Part 3 (Bakugou x Fem!Reader) (Shinsou x Fem!Reader)

Third part up! Now excuse me, I’m going to play Genshin Impact all weekend! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, arguments, swearing, drinking

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You shriek in terror as a loud blaring sound emanates from the table in front of you - your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as the sudden noise coupled with the darkness and the horror movie playing in the background fries your nerves with fear. You hear Shinsou laugh in the background, in the kitchen grabbing more snacks as you wait in the dark for him to return.

“Shut up, Hitoshi!” He smirks to himself - you used his full first name which means you’re angry at his teasing. He chuckles as he makes more popcorn and hears you shuffle out of your blanket cocoon to find the source of the noise.

You find Shinsou’s black phone vibrating and ringing on the table in front of you under some magazines. On the screen flashes ‘Izuku Midoriya’ as a picture of the freckled boy and your best friend at their U.A graduation appears on the screen.

“‘Toshi! Midoriya’s calling! Want me to answer?”

“Yeah, let him know I’m busy.”

“‘Kay.” You move to swipe right and answer the phone, but the call ends before you have the chance. On the lockscreen of Shinsou’s phone, the lock screen picture of you two at the Hero Rankings ceremony from two years ago is partially covered by a new banner: One missed call from Midoriya.

“Oops, I missed it.” You set Hitoshi’s phone back down on his cedar coffee table, returning to wrap yourself back in your blanket as you spot fuzzy purple hair returning from the kitchen, popcorn bowl in hand as well as two cups full of water. “Sorry ‘Toshi, I didn’t answer in time.”

“S’alright, I’ll call him back after.” The two both of you turn your head to the phone as it vibrates on the table to let Shinsou know he’s got a text message, from the very person whose call he missed. “Hold on, lemme answer this…” He opens the message from him, cringing slightly as the bright screen blinds him in the total darkness. You help yourself to some popcorn as you wait for Shinsou to give you the signal to start the movie.

From: Midoriya, sent at 10:39pm

Hey Shinsou! We’re having a small Class 1-A reunion at Shoto’s place this Friday - want to come? Everyone would love to see you! Let me know!

Shinsou leans back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You cock your head in confusion. “What’s wrong ‘Toshi?”

“Class reunion at Shoto’s. Don’t wanna go.” He covers his face with his hands, groaning as he thinks of an excuse not to attend.

“Why not? You haven’t seen Midoriya or the others in a long time.” Shinsou isn’t antisocial but he’s rather introverted; he prefers the company of cats and a few trusted friends over a loud party. Add in work and he basically only sees you on a regular basis. “I think you should go, it would do you some good.” Your purple haired friend looks at you sideways.

“Kaminari is gonna drink.” You snort, snickering at his aversion to the combination of the Stun Gun Hero and alcohol. Denki is one of the few people Shinsou gets along with despite his ditzyness, and Kaminari often tries to include Shinsou in mixers and parties much to his dismay. Last time Shinsou went drinking with Kaminari, they ended up in a pool with some of their classmates and in his drunken stupor, Kaminari almost activated his quirk and fried everybody in the pool. Ever since then, Kaminari needs a designated partner to watch him when he drinks, which usually falls to Shinsou, Sero, or Kirishima. “And if he drinks, I can’t, which means I can’t enjoy myself.”

“Isn’t it Sero’s turn to watch him, since you did it last time?

“Huh, you might be right. If I don’t have to watch that idiot, then I’ll probably go. Wanna come?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t invited ‘Toshi. Besides...I didn’t attend U.A so it would be strange to have an outsider come around, right?” You give him a small smile to show you’re fine without going, but Shinsou knows better. You don’t want to go because you could run into Bakugou. He sighs, and turns to look at you. “Oh! Tell Denki and Sero I say ‘hello’. I miss playing video games with them when I used to go to parties.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go and visit everyone. I’ll tell them you said hello. Now, can we get back to the movie? Your favorite part is coming up.” He snickers as you immediately dive under your blanket to avoid seeing the scene that makes you have nightmares every time it comes on. As you cower under the covers, Shinsou howls with laughter as you scream.

You don’t even hear your phone ringing in the bedroom, faint and drowned out by you and Shinsou’s voices. A message flashes across the screen:

One missed call from Katsuki.

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Bakugou listens to your voicemail message play in his ear, despondent as you fail to pick up. He relishes in the opportunity to hear your voice again though, and closes his eyes as your message begins to play.

“Hey! Sorry I’m not available to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

He can see you in his mind’s eye, lounging on the couch and flipping through channels as you try to find one of those true crime documentaries you love so much as you settle in for the night. Or maybe you’re busy with homework for school again, or staying late at work since you always wanted to work more hours to be more independent. He can see you crashing in bed after a long night - fuzzy cat hairband on your head holding back your hair, face freshly washed, wrapped in the yellow blanket you loved so much. His shoulders feel heavy as he solemnly trudges back to his group of friends, taking one last look at his lock screen before he returns inside: a picture of you and him at the arcade, with you beaming with happiness as you hold up a large stuffed bunny he won for you with all the tickets he earned that night. He wonders if you still have it.

His reminiscing is interrupted by an incoming call from Deku - a picture of Izuku and Katsuki appears on screen, taken at a school function in their third year of high school. He lets out a small ‘tch’ but answers the phone anyways. “What do you want you damn Deku?”

“Hey Kacchan,” Deku answers unfazed, “just wanted to let you know that Shoto’s having a reunion at his place this Friday - wanna come?” Katsuki sees Todoroki on and off for his Hero work, and he gets along with both Shoto and Izuku way better than he did in high school, even if the rivalry is still present - in his case anyways.

“Hell no.” Bakugou hangs up the phone, shoves it in his pocket, and angrily pulls open the door to return to the apartment of his friends. On the other side of the phone, Izuku smiles as knows Bakugou’s group of friends will drag him to the function whether he likes it or not.

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When Friday rolls around, you busy yourself with laundry as Shinsou gets ready to attend the reunion at Todoroki’s downtown skyscraper apartment. You try not to think of your ex-boyfriend and the possibility that your best friend may run into him as you throw your clothes into the washing machine. You also try not to think of the fact that you received a call from Bakugou, a call you missed and didn’t have a voicemail attached to it. You contemplated calling him back to see what he wanted, but your pride and fear of rejection holds you back. So instead, you choose to act like it never happened - but your heart races every time a text or call notification thinking it’ll be from Katsuki.

Your phone rests next to the washer on the shelf containing the laundry detergent and scent balls - it sits unlocked as you finish your first load of clothes. You pick it up, scrolling through the endless text as you try and find a new home. You’ve decided that you’ve overstayed your welcome at Shinsou’s apartment, and you’re now looking for one of your own. You’ve been working an insane amount of overtime, and now that you’ve raised your credit score, you feel ready to search for an apartment to call your own. Hitoshi of course has been protesting since he doesn’t feel that you’re a burden but you insist on getting out of his hair. It isn’t around and on the highest volume possible so you can answer the phone if Katsuki calls again, no siree.

As you stare at your phone screen and walk back to the living room, you bump into Shinsou as he makes his way to grab his keys, knocking your phone to the floor. “Oh! Sorry ‘Toshi, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“S’okay. I’m ‘bout to go, you need anything?” He bends over to pick up your cell and places it back in your hands. He’s wearing a dark green bomber jacket with a simple white v-neck underneath, complimented with black jeans and he holds a pair of Vans in his hands as he makes his way to the door.

“I’m good, make sure you have fun, drive safe, and if you drink call me so I can get you, ‘kay?” You give him a quick hug, quickly noticing that he’s sprayed on some cologne. He smells amazing, but you wonder why a pang of jealousy courses through you when as you wonder why he put on cologne for a party full of friends.

“Will do. See you later.” You see him off, locking the door behind him after he leaves. You return to the living room, alone and without plans. So, you decide to order some takeout, watch some Netflix, and stay up with your phone nearby in case Shinsou calls you for a ride.

It’s not so you can answer a call from Bakugou if he decides to call again. No way.

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Shoto’s apartment is the probably the swankiest place owned by any of the Class 1-A graduates - in the heart of downtown, with ceiling to floor windows overlooking the cityscape and a private rooftop. Shinsou feels out of place as he makes his way up in the elevator, meeting Ojiro and Hagakure on the way. He says his greetings, makes small talk, and finally arrives at his destination - Todoroki’s apartment. He says hello to everyone, and moves to grab a beer. Lilac eyes meet vermilion ones as he comes face to face with Bakugou for the first time since everything happened with you. The Bakusquad notice Bakugou’s icy expression and turn to see who has gained his ire; they’re surprised to see Shinsou standing at the end of their friend’s glare.

“Dude, what’s your problem with Shinsou?” Kaminari asks innocently. Mina and Sero shoot him a look, causing him to cock his head in confusion. He mouths a silent ‘what’ to Sero, Kirishima, and Mina, who mouths back your name. He instantly shuts up and changes the subject. Bakugou can’t hear what his blonde friend is saying though, because he’s too busy staring holes through Shinsou’s back. He’s never had a problem with Shinsou before he met you, but every time he looks at the purple haired man he can’t help but feel intense jealousy and anger that bubbles up from within. He imagines you wearing Shinsou’s clothes, and sleeping at Shinsou’s place and he can’t control the rage that comes with it. He abruptly stands, grabbing two beers and walks off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kirishima asks.

“To get some fresh air dammit!” Bakugou opens the door to the rooftop and forcefully slams it shut. The Bakusquad share a look with one another.

“He must still be hung up on her.” Denki states nonchalantly, and Mina elbows him in the stomach.

“Of course he is, you idiot! He loved her more than anything. You saw how miserable he was when she left.” This statement catches Shinsou’s attention, and after excusing himself from his conversation with Izuku and Uraraka, follows the Explosion Hero to the rooftop.

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Although he tries to quietly sneak behind Bakugou as he makes his way to the rooftop, he fails miserably. “Why the hell are you following me Eye Bags?”

“Huh, didn’t think you’d hear me. I was wondering why you were out here to drink by yourself. I take it you didn’t want to see me?” Bakugou turns around, veins popping out on his forehead as he gazes upon Shinsou in distaste.

“Of course I didn’t want to see you, you damn extra. You got rocks for brains or somethin’?” Shinsou keeps an even expression as he faces down Bakugou as the sounds of the city play below them. “Well, why are you following me?” He repeats, crossing his arms.

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.” He lies, moving to the railing next to Bakugou, who looks at him with caution. The two men stand in silence, occasionally sipping from their beers as they watch the city they protect from on high. After what seems like an eternity, one of them breaks the tension and silence.

“How is she?” Shinsou looks sideways to see Bakugou staring at his beer can, emotions unreadable as he takes another swig.

“Fine. A lot better than before. She’s thinkin’ of moving into her own place by next month. Told her she could stay with me until she’s ready but she’s insisting on moving out.” Bakugou’s eyebrow twitches in envy, and it takes almost all of his energy to hold back his tongue.

“Good for her. She’s always been independent like that.” He slightly smiles as he recalls how self-sufficient you are, working hard to get what you want in your work, school, and love. He quickly wipes it off his face though so Shinsou can’t see.

“Yeah, too bad people take her for granted sometimes.” He knows it’s a low blow but he can’t help himself - Bakugou deserves it for treating you the way he did. “Can’t believe you’d fuck up something so good with someone like her.” Bakugou narrows his eyes in displeasure, his rationality hanging on by a thin thread as he convinces himself to not punch Shinsou in his face because you’d be upset if Hitoshi came home with a black eye and bloody nose. Katsuki decides to let that comment slide - he’s not as hot headed as he once was - and continues the conversation.

“I tried callin’ her last week. She didn’t answer.” He doesn’t know why he says it out loud, but he can’t stop the words from leaving his lips.

“Oh? She didn’t tell me.” Katsuki’s blood boils, and his jealousy reaches its breaking point after he hears that. Shinsou is taken aback by his words though - why didn’t you tell him? You tell him everything - even if it seems minute. He’s a bit hurt that you would hide that from him, but he stops it from showing on his face.

“And why would she? You’re not her boyfriend. You’re just a friend.” Shinsou bristles visibly at that statement - he can’t hide his discontent from showing on his face as Bakugou points out what he already knows. He is just a friend in your eyes, someone who you can count on no matter what. But the lingering touches, the ghost of your lips on his forehead, the cuddling he can’t help but desire - he wants more. He wants you in a way he can’t have, and he feels horrible for desiring you in this way when your heart has been broken. His face grimaces as the guilt creeps up his throat - he wants and yet he can’t tell you. He craves you in a way he’s never had for anyone else and at the worst possible time, his once innocent friendship with his childhood friend has devolved into longing and pining for you when you are emotionally unavailable. Bakugou watches closely as Shinsou’s face changes from his words, and his eyes widen as he puts two and two together.

“You bastard, you’re in love with her.” Bakugou says it low, growling it out through clenched teeth. Shinsou is taken aback for a second - he loves you of course, but is he in love with you? He thinks back on his life and sees you always next to him: smiling, encouraging him, holding him when he’s had a bad day, studying with him when there was a big exam coming up, calling to congratulate him when he entered U.A, and catching a train to see him graduate the Hero course. There’s no doubt in his mind - you’ve been a staunch supporter of his dreams and ambitions and he can’t see a life where you’re ever away from him. Like a puzzle, everything clicks into place. He knows it from the bottom of his heart, the deepest recesses of his soul.

He loves you. Deeply, truly, with every fiber of his being. He’s in love with you, his best friend.

“And if I am?” Vermilion eyes narrow, teeth grinding as he clenches his fists. Bakugou looks Shinsou straight in his eyes, fury radiating from every single pore of his body.

“You droopy eyed bastard. How long have you been waiting to swoop in and take her away from me? Just waiting for me to mess up, haah?” His words are dripping with venom, little sparks shooting out of his open palms. Shinsou isn’t sure if Bakugou will attack him or not, but he can sense that the blonde is so pissed he could blow up the entire rooftop. He backs away from the railing, never turning his back to Explosion Hero. “How many times have you comforted her just hoping she’d give you the time of day? You think you’ll be able to make her happy Eye Bags? You may be her best friend, but I ain’t gonna sit here and let you talk down to me like you know all about what she and I had. There’s no one else for me and you know it.”

Shinsou sneers, staring at the man in front of him with disdain. “Bullshit. I was at your apartment Bakugou, I know for damn sure she isn’t the only thing on your mind.” Bakugou’s eye twitches in white hot rage.

“Haaah? What bullshit are you on now jackass? Making up stories to make yourself feel better for falling in love with my girl?” Shinsou narrows his eyes in irritation, envisioning your face as he holds you the night you saw Bakugou at the Hero Rankings, as you sob into his chest as he pets your hair. He recalls making you food, leaving it out for you to eat before he goes to patrol and coming home to find it untouched. He remembers how he had to remind you how beautiful you were, how the comments about your body and looks on social media didn’t mean anything because you were perfect just the way you are. Bakugou didn’t see how broken you were, how he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces while he hopped from bar to bar and brought a date to the award ceremonies when he wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence as his girlfriend.

“I was there at the apartment when she went to pick up her things. You had some underwear in your bedroom. She saw it, and I did too. Now, who did that belong to Bakugou?” He smirks, watching as the face of the blonde in front of him contorts in confusion and regret, now realizing that you had seen his almost one night stand’s underwear when you came to grab your things only a couple of days after you broke up. “Was it some girl you met while bar hopping? Or was it Camie’s? I didn’t know you had a thing for her.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit.” Bakugou runs a hand through his spikes, a combination of shame and hurt painting his features. He looks up, glaring at the purple haired man in front of him. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have the person you love walk out on you and to know that you fucked up. I didn’t want to think about her, about us.” His lips purse together, his nose and throat become itchy as tears threaten to spill over at any moment. “I just wanted to forget, okay?! Is that what you wanna hear you bastard? I didn’t want to spend all night thinking about her!” He’s yelling now, his voice reverberating from the rooftop, spreading out into the city under the moonlit sky. Shinsou’s eyes widen in surprise at Bakugou’s outburst, lilac orbs staring unblinking at the man in front of him. He doesn’t think Katsuki is lying, he never hesitates to say what he thinks about anyone, whether they be a friend or a foe.

“Whose underwear was it?” Shinsou asks lowly, bracing himself for his answer.

“Don’t remember her name. It was a girl from the bar, reminded me of her. I made her leave before anything physical happened. I only kissed her. Didn’t even know she left her clothes.” Bakugou recalls that night, alcohol coursing through his body, craving body heat and another person’s touch. He swallows thickly, imagining your face as you find that foreign underwear in the room you once shared, quickly dispelling that thought from his mind when he remembers your heartbroken expression.

“And what about Camie? I wasn’t home when the rankings aired,” Shinsou crosses his arms as he leans against the edge of the rooftop, “but I know she saw it.” Bakugou grits his teeth in anguish - how much hurt had he caused you without even knowing? How many nights had you cried while thinking he had moved on? He was such a damn fool.

“We went as friends. She wanted to make Inasa jealous enough to make a move on her. I didn’t think,” Bakugou looks up to stare at the lavender eyes boring into him, “...didn’t think she’d be watching. She always hated that kinda shit.” Shinsou’s eyebrows knit together in anger, red flashing in his vision as his entire body shakes as he clenches his fists to calm the fury bubbling up in his chest.

“She hated it because you never used to take her to one. God, you are such a fucking idiot Bakugou! That’s why she left you! You are selfish. You cared more about your damn rank and your stupid one sided rivalry with Deku that you couldn’t even tell the world you had someone you loved. When those people attacked her on social media, you didn’t lift a damn finger to stop the hate she was getting. You listened to your agency like a damn puppet, and let her take the fall. When all she did was love you. It wasn’t even about the attention of being a Hero’s girlfriend, she just wanted you to be proud of having her by your side, to have you not be afraid to show the world you cared about her. But you didn’t. She’s given you so much but you don’t even care. You can’t even get your head out of your ass to-”

“You don’t think I care? I’ve regretted not telling her how much she meant to me that night! I regret letting her leave that night in the rain, and I sure as hell regret letting her cry herself to sleep all those nights!” Bakugou’s hands squeeze in fists, nails digging into his palms and teeth grinding together as he wills himself not to cry.

“I never, never wanted to make her feel like she wasn’t good enough. I never ever wanted to be the one to make her cry. You don’t think I’d take it all back if I could? I miss her Shinsou, is that what you want to fucking hear? I miss her.” The spiky haired blonde refuses to let Shinsou see him cry, holding back tears while scarlet orbs stare into purple ones. “I’ve missed her since she left and I fucking miss her more everyday. I’m not an idiot, I know I fucked up bad.” Shinsou’s expression softens slightly, he can sense that Bakugou’s telling the truth and he can hear the regret in his shaky voice. He sighs, looking down at his shoes.

“Look, I may have feelings for her, but she doesn’t know and I don’t care to let her find out - not now anyway. I’m not trying to ruin your relationship or hurt your chances at getting back together because I know she loves you.” Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I let my anger get the best of me tonight. I’ll leave you up here to get some fresh air. I’m going back to our friends, I’ll let them know not to bother you.” Bakugou nods, and turns silently around to continue overlooking the city as his eyes burn from the sting of tears. Shinsou leaves, and after he hears the door close, Bakugou lets the tears he’s held back flow freely from his eyes as he remains on the rooftop.

Sniffling, he stares at the streets below while he tries to get his emotions under control - the great Katsuki Bakugou will not be seen crying - especially not in front of his friends. He feels a vibration in his pocket, and considers ignoring it, thinking it’s Kirishima or Kaminari calling him to come back. He pulls out his phone to deny the call.

Instead of Kaminari, he sees your name flash across the screen.

#bnha #bnha x you #bnha x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #katsuki bakugou x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #hitoshi shinsou x y/n #mha x reader #my writing

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communitybuildersia44 · 1 year ago

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Benefits of Choosing a Reputable Window Installation Company

Windows are essential to your home's overall functionality and appearance. Cedar Falls provides a variety of expert window installation services to suit your needs, whether you're trying to replace outdated, inefficient windows or want to improve the beauty of your home. Window Installation Services in Cedar Falls include:

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Conclusion Window Installation Services in Cedar Falls are an intelligent and affordable way to improve the look, comfort, and energy efficiency of your house. Select experts like Community Builders to guarantee the finest outcomes and enjoy all the advantages of adequately placed windows. They provide you with a selection of premium windows for new installations as well as home renovations.

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ionlyjoinedforstuffilike · 4 years ago

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Wasting Time

Pairing: The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Rating/Warning: Explicit (18+), smut, language, masturbation, vaginal fingering.

Word Count: 1,100

Summary: You find yourself hold up on an unknown planet with the mysterious bounty hunter your only company.

A/N: Written as a response for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer's Wednesday. Having only ever written for Boyd Holbrook characters (which I post over on my main blog @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook), I'm a bit apprehensive but the prompt just screamed Mando to me. I hope you like it. I've tagged a few people who showed interest and a couple I thought may want to read it.

You stared out into the street beyond, the neon straining against the grey blanket of the day. The glow more abrasive than usual blinking against the never-ending rain, though not as frustrating as the zip of the speeders zooming past, they really shouldn't let them come so close and disturb the city. Yet, what difference would it make to this frenzied world - everything in excessive, everything in a hurry, a buzz. Sign after sign, crowd after crowd, building after building, higher and further and more and more and suffocating. You felt trapped, which of course you were. Forced to stay in the small room on this god forsaken planet for days with your captor. You had no intention of coming here, not really sure where here actually was, but the past had finally caught up with you and now you were lying low with the bounty hunter.

You turned away from the window, observed the small room which was currently your sanctuary. It was as grey and cold as the city outside but quiet and stark in contrast, very little other than a bed and makeshift kitchen, a small fresher attached but there was no comfort or softness to be found, and even if there were it would have been negated by the figure sat in the corner.

The bounty hunter was like none you'd ever seen, you had however heard of his kind - a Mandalorian. Clad top to toe in armour, he had never revealed his face, he had never revealed his hands, covered with gloves, every inch of him shielded from enemies. He barely said a word since you'd been apprehended, which only enhanced the threat. A threat that had been established by a demonstration of deadly skill at your first meeting, reinforced with the dangerous glint of his armour each time he methodically cleaned his weapons in your presence. You didn't dare run, he'd find you again easily and then you'd pay and your current lack of comfort nothing to carbonite or the other alternative.

So, you sulked but stayed by his side in this grey, hard room and did your best to entertain yourself. He glared, though you could not see his eyes, you could feel them boring into you through the black t-shaped visor. He watched you at the window, watched you idle around the room, watched as you tied and untied the lace of your shoe around your finger over and over - never moving or speaking. He watched too when you undressed for a fresher, that had got a response, slight but enough to realise you'd caught his attention - the subtle tilt of his helmet, the stretching of covered fingers before balling back into a fist, as if he wondered if you were doing it to provoke him. In truth you had not, the fresher so small you didn't want to risk your clothing becoming damp and further increasing your discomfort, making him squirm a little was just a happy accident. In fact, it was the only glimmer of fun you had for a while and most probably the foreseeable future. Then an idea burned in your brain - hummed like the neon beyond the glass pane. You were bored, so very bored, and he already thought you were bad, so very bad, someone to be caught and contained. What was there to lose? Nothing. It would be wicked. It would be fun. Curiosity of his reaction urging you on.

You crawled up on the mattress and sat opposite the Mandalorian, stared directly at him. You knew he was staring back, the black void unwavering, you smirked imagining his expression underneath. Without breaking contact, you began to unfasten your trousers, pushed them down over your curves and down to your ankles before kicking them off. Then there it was - the tilt. The inquisitive movement of the helmet, questioning your actions, but he'd have answers soon enough. You spread your legs wider, dropped your hand between them and touched yourself, the only barrier to your sex a flimsy piece of cloth.

"What are you doing?" his modulated voice cut through the air.

"Wasting time." You tried to hide the curl at the corner of your lips. Settling back, your fingers began to rub at your clit, yes this was a very good way to spend your time. Feeling of pleasure quickly washing over you, forgetting the grey world, the uncertainty of your fate falling away with each movement. And the unmoving Mandalorian stared, the glimmer of beskar now a challenge, deepening sensations but you needed more, now you had taken this path you were determined to reach the end of the journey. Moving your hand, you ducked into your underwear, your head lolled as you plunged your fingers into your aching wet cunt. You broke connection with the Mandalorian, but you were lost now to your desires, until the crackle of his modular sounded once more.

"Take them off."

You stalled, eyes shot up looking at the bounty hunter, his legs wide, gloved hand against his covered cock, the other on his knee, fingertips digging into flesh.

"Excuse me?"

"Take it off. Take it all off."

You did as commanded, scrambled to rid yourself of the few garments covering your flesh. Naked in front of him, you sprawled back out on the bed, hand back in place, the other roaming your now exposed breast. Eyes closed drowning in your ecstasy, you heard the scrape of the chair along the floor, the Mandalorian wanted a closer inspection. Your cunt clenched at the thought. The small room soon filled with the noise of your exertions - your moans and the sounds of your fingers in your slick wet pussy. You were close, so very close. Desire wound so tight and ready to snap. When you did, you forgot all your worries, forgot the little room and bustling city, the captor at your side, there was nothing in that moment but you until...

As you were falling back to reality, you felt a new sensation, coarse leather against your most sensitive flesh, the bed dipping as the Mandalorian's knee dropped on to it, the cold metal of his armour burning against you. You looked up at him now, hovering above you, stared at the inky black as you moved your hand so he could replace it with his own.

"This changes nothing." was all he said as his fingers plunged forward.

Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @itssmashedavo @yes-it-would-be-easier-if @yespolkadotkitty @giizhkens-cedar @cheesybadgers @marivela14 @peoniarose @rexsjaigeyes @karie-me-home

#The Mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #Writer Wednesday

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blueiscoool · 3 years ago

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A $45 Million Modern Vail Mansion

Apogee House on Vail Mountain also has a complete wellness floor for soothing those ski legs.

There are swimming pools and there are swimming pools. The stunning pool at Vail’s Apogee House stretches an impressive 75 feet end-to-end, features a clear acrylic bottom and literally hangs off the side of the mountain.

“It has a firepit beneath it so you can sit around the fire and look up and see the sky or stars—or anyone taking a dip,” listing broker Alitza Vagenknechtova with LIV Sotheby’s International Realty tells Robb Report.

Completed in late 2019 after a highly complex four-year build, this glass-rich, 8,800-square-foot contemporary masterpiece was built on two lots just minutes away from the slopes and shops of Vail Village, and was specifically designed to accent the Colorado mountain lifestyle.

Take the wellness level of the four-story home, which features an Italian-style grotto with a hot tub and cold plunge pool positioned beneath a sparkling waterfall. Close by is a cedar-lined sauna and steam room and, for when you need to get those legs moving before a hard day on the slopes, a fitness room and yoga studio.

“The owners wanted a spa to match those of Europe’s finest boutique hotels. It is just a wonderful place to kick off your boots, relax and revive,” adds Vagenknechtova.

The home itself was designed by local architect Hans Berglund, who specializes in sleek and high-tech contemporary structures. The task of building it on a sheer-drop, mountain-side site on Vail’s tony Forest Road went to Shaeffer Hyde Construction. The company also masterminded the intricate, heart-stopping installation of the pool, which was delivered in three sections and had to be craned high over the top of the house—in thick snow—and gently lowered in place.

They were also tasked with installing the almost 7,000-square-feet of triple-pane, sliding steel thermal doors and windows from famed Italian fenestration experts Brombal. “What is remarkable is that the big, sliding windows in pretty much every room go from floor to ceiling, which are mostly 14 to 16 feet high. When they’re open it’s like living outside,” adds Vagenknechtova.

The home also features over 6,500 square-feet of decks and terracing, all of which are heated; when the snow falls, it melts within minutes. Those terraces, especially the ones on the pool level and fourth floor, also offer jaw-dropping views of the surrounding mountains, ski slopes and spectacular 13,500-foot-high, snow-capped Gore Range, part of the Colorado Rockies.

For the best views in the house, however, take the elevator up to the fourth-floor’s glass-sided roof deck, where there’s also an outdoor kitchen and fireplace.

The home has five ensuite bedrooms spread over three floors, though it’s the primary suite on the pool level that has the biggest wow factor. Reached by a long, glass-encased steel bridge, it features a 38-foot-by-18-foot bedroom, a 21-foot-long walk-in closet, a private office, a temperature-controlled wine room and 25-foot-long master bath with huge picture windows framing mountains views.

Another major convenience feature of the home is its twin heated garages with space for four cars, plus covered parking for another four. And to wash off the grime, there’s a car rinse area that’s close to the doggy shower. A sloping driveway off Forest Road, leads down to the garages and an entryway into the house with biometric entry access.

“For me, what really sets the house apart is the quality of its finishes. The cabinetry is all custom Italian, the fireplaces, walls and floors are polished marble and the woodwork all custom. Most of the controls in the house are through sophisticated Creston and Lutron smart home systems,” explains Vagenknechtova.

While the home was completed in late 2019, according to Zillow it went on the market, with a $45 million asking, just six months later in June 2020. After no one stepped-up, it was taken off and was re-listed last month for the same $45 million.

Vagenknechtova says that during the four years it took to complete the home, the family’s children started to pursue other interests—one daughter rides horses in Florida during the winter, for example—so the Vail house is being used less and less.

But for those interested in living the Vail life, she adds, “(the sale) offers a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to own a truly unique, two-lot home on Vail Mountain that’s so close to the action. Winter or summer, it is a magical place to be.”

By Howard Walker.

#A $45 Million Modern Vail Mansion #vail colorado #real estate #high end #modern #contemporary #contemporary design #luxury #luxury home #luxury real estate #luxury living #luxury lifestyle #billionaire #billionaire lifestyle #rich #$$$

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h2bakugou · 4 years ago

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Hey so I see requests are open could I get some fluffiness with Izuku and his fem s/o dancing on the beach under the stars pleaseeee

a/n: hi hun!! of course!! i woke up early and honestly i might lay back down, i’m tired jfjadshja but this request is really cute and i love it sm <3

headcanon: them dancing with their s/o

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: fluff, swearing

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

izuku midoriya

»»————-　★　————-««

Getting permission to leave campus was already hard enough, but it had been decided the class, as a whole, was going to the beach now.

Your plan was to spend the day and some of the night, with Izuku at the beach. But now with the entire class’ presence, all your plans to spend some quality time together had now gone out the window.

You didn’t mind your friends being there, and you rather enjoyed their company, but there was a longing for Deku in the back of your mind as you splashed around in the waves with everyone.

What had even provoked Aizawa to just say yes to a weekend vacation at the beach was unclear to you, but even he was here, with Mirio and Eri, seemingly letting her enjoy the cool water on the hot summer day.

Finally catching a break, you headed back onto the shore, spotting those familiar tufts of green hair that always seemed to smell like fresh cedar and sandalwood.

“Finally catch a break?” Deku smiled, tilting his head as he scooted over on his All Might towel, making room for you to sit.

“Water volleyball is a lot harder than it sounds.” You sigh, smiling as you grab your own towel to drape over your shoulders. Deku sits up and hesitantly places his arm over your shoulder, rubbing your arm in an attempt to warm you up and dry you off at the same time.

“Do you think we could meet back here at maybe nine tonight?” Deku asked quietly, trying to ignore the looks of his peers as he held you close.

He was already flustered enough, but PDA always seemed to enflame his cheeks a little more.

“You asking me to sneak out?” You wiggle your brows at him, chuckling at your own humor, you nod eventually.

“You wanna come find seashells or something?” You ask, ready to get back in the waves. Deku smiles and nods, grabbing your hand as you pull him up, tugging him toward the ocean.

When the night rolled around, you were worn out. But you hadn’t forgotten what Deku had asked. You made time for him. Whatever you were doing, which had been preparing for bed later that night, you threw on something simple and snuck out of your room, heading back down to the beach.

Most of the students were out with a chaperone at some shops, either eating a late dinner, or playing games in an arcade.

But as your bare feet hit the sand, you were relieved to see it was just Deku on the beach waiting for you, the scene you had originally thought you’d be seeing this weekend.

Even though going alone wouldn’t have left you alone on the beach all day, you were much more willing to be lovey-dovey in front of a few strangers you’d likely never see again, unless they randomly remember you being the kid that locked lips with their boyfriend on the beach that one time during your hero career.

“I did shower, so no more swimming.” You huffed, stopping beside him. Saltwater was a nightmare, but it was fun while it lasted.

“I don’t want to swim, I just want to spend time with you. I know it’s late.” Deku’s hand finds its way to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it, before placing a delicate kiss on each of your knuckles.

You flip your hand over and do the same to his hand, taking extra care to kiss over the scars that littered his hand. You smile and glance up at him as his cheeks burn bright red.

As you glance at Izuku, your eyes catch the sky, and the thousands, no millions, of stars that hang in the sky.

“Woah, look at the sky!” Your lips hover over his hand as you both gaze into the sky, mesmerized at how easy it is to see so many of them.

With no skyscrapers or hero agencies blocking the sky in front of you, you could see a plethora of lights in the sky.

“It’s so beautiful.” Izuku whispered, pulling you closer to him, insisting you stand in front of him so he could wrap his arms around you.

Beautiful felt like an understatement at the sight before the two of you. You felt like you were staring straight into space, thousands of galaxies spread out right in front of you, and maybe just maybe if you reached high enough, you could grab one.

Turning to face Izuku, you rested your hands on his chest.

“We still have tomorrow to go do something couple-y. But for now, can we enjoy this?” Deku asks quietly, lifting your chin to look at him. You nod and lean in closer, pressing your lips to his in an instance, not wanting to wait any longer to do it.

You hadn’t kissed him at all today, not since he stopped by your dorm to help you carry your things to the bus. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to sit together on the bus ride here.

Deku’s lips were soft, they usually tasted like honey, thanks to the chapstick you’d bought him one time on a date. It was the date you had your first kiss together. You’d bought it for him as a joke, but he was the one to crack the ‘are we about to kiss right now?’ after applying it. It made you laugh a little too hard, but in the end, you’d never felt a kiss be so electrifying before.

However, tonight, as you stood, toes in the sand, your arms wrapped around your boyfriend’s shoulders, his hands planted firmly on your waist as if you were at a school dance, his lips tasted vaguely of vanilla and caramel, with a twinge of strawberry, most likely from the sundae he’d eaten maybe an hour earlier.

Pulling away you leaned your head on his chest, your bodies beginning to sway as you stood.

Deku took a few steps forward, pushing you back as you kept up with him.

“I never learned how to waltz.” Deku admits. You lift your head and look at him confused.

“Like the waltz you do at-”

“School dances.” Deku cuts in and both of you finish your sentence.

“You know something I don’t?” You tease, hinting at the possibility that there may be some dance coming up and he wants to ask you.

“No! I just, I want to dance with you, but I don’t know how.” Izuku looks away embarrassed. You reach and pull his gaze back to yours, smiling.

“It’s really simple, just follow me okay?” You position your hands, one on his chest, and one in his hand, showing him where to place his hands, one on your waist and the other in your hand.

“The movements are honestly so easy, you just step and make a square, hence the name, square waltz, or something like that.” You giggle, you couldn’t exactly say you were a dance machine, but this felt right. After copious movies and videos, you’d seen this dance a fair few times to know it, or at least a version of it.

You step back and allow Izuku to follow your movements before stepping to the side. Then you go to step forward, but Izuku doesn’t move.

"Sorry!” He calls as the two of you fall hard onto the sand. You can’t stop laughing as you lean over him.

“Sorry! I should’ve told you we move back, are you okay?” You ask, finally catching a break from your laughs.

“I’m fine. You’re not hurt are you?” Izuku lifts a hand to stroke your cheek. You nod and smile, Izuku’s green hair now decently covered in sand.

In a fit of passion, Deku pulls your face down to his, catching you in another embrace, his lips locking with yours.

You kiss him back, resting against his chest.

You’re lost in his embrace as you kiss, forgetting everything you knew and were doing. You’re lost in the gentle touch he leaves on your bare arms.

It’s barely even there, and in the back of your mind you wonder if it’s just the wind playing tricks on you, but an extra firm hold on you to keep you from slipping out of his grasp reassures you that it’s him and not the wind.

And everything seems so surreal until bright light begins to hurt the backs of your eyes.

“Curfew, get inside.” Aizawa’s voice practically sends you hurdling into the waves as you jump off of Deku.

“Yes sir!” You both shout, bowing before him before dashing off toward the doors of the hotel.

On your way inside, you catch Deku before he heads to his room.

“I’ll resume our lessons when we get back to campus, just remember we step back.” You give him a tight hug and a peck on the cheek before heading up to your room.

Bless his heart, he’s so happy, even though he got caught and now he’s embarrassed, his heart is full, he got to spend just a few minutes with you, and he’d hopefully get a few more tomorrow.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

#izuku #midoriya #deku #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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firstbeachgoblin · 4 years ago

Text

And I like you.

a/n: Hey everybody, I love lorde and 400 Lux is one of my favourite songs. It gave me inspiration for an Embry piece that I hope you all enjoy. I have another one planned for Jacob and Leah so keep an eye out for those and the fics I'm writing for the requests I've received. Also I wrote this at 10 p.m. so if it's a little janky thats why heheh.

enjoy loves!

Warnings: mentions of intoxication.

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

We're never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you?

'Til the veins run red and blue

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

My free time is usually spent killing time on the beach or driving around with friends, particularly Embry Call. We spend the whole day at the beach swimming in the ocean and cliff diving to feel the thrill of free falling.

Ending the day around a fire either intoxicated or sober laughing our guts out, singing songs at the tops of our lungs till our throats ached into the early hours of the morning. When intoxicated we all stumble our way home or pass out in truck beds that are piled up with blankets and pillows to keep warm.

When we aren’t belting our lungs out to whatever music that’s been put on Embry would play his guitar for us. He’d play on the lower key days, no partying, minimal yelling from the boys, everyone enjoying the atmosphere of good company and music.

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We're hollow like the bottles that we drain

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we're brave

Embry always calls when he picks me up, he is my personal uber at this point. He never lets me pay him for gas money insisting that I don’t have to give him anything but my presence. Driving with him is one of my favourite things to do, it is special and we connect on a different level than we do with everyone else.

He drives with his wrist over the steering wheel and his free hand usually laced with mine on the console. Going forward, forward together. With the windows rolled down and the radio turned up Embry cracks jokes that make me smile and laugh till I can’t breathe anymore.

Turning in my seat I lean my head out the window to feel the wind blow through my hair as we barrel down the highway or through town in the late hours of the night. The sweet air filled with the scent of cedar, pine, moss, and ocean always left a lingering kiss on my skin brushing over my face, hands and hair.

Smiles always grace our faces even at what feels like our lowest moments, we're brave together. He has me and I have him.

I love these roads where the houses don't change (and I like you)

Where we can talk like there's something to say (and I like you)

I'm glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

We move in the tree streets

I'd like it if you stayed

We wander through the same streets we prowled as kids, the same streets with the same houses that never changed growing up. The same roads that lead through La Push, lined with tall cedars and pines which tower over the town.

Everything with Embry was familiar, his touch, warmth, smile, laugh, his cologne. He made being out at night easier, he was there to protect me on the streets we moved through on foot or in a car. He protected me no matter where we were, he’s my safe place.

“You know what Embry?”

“I don’t know? What (y/n)?”

I breathed in and smiled at him, “I kinda like you.”

“I kinda like you too.” He wrapped his hand around mine sporting a small smile across his face.

One look at me and you can tell that I’m smitten with him. When people see us together we have looks of utter love plastered across our faces when we look at each other, like we're the definition of true love.

Now we're wearing long sleeves

And the heating comes on

(You buy me orange juice)

We're getting good at this

Dreams of clean teeth

I can tell that you're tired

But you keep the car on

While you're waiting out front

He gave me one of his long sleeve shirts that didn’t fit any more, it draped over my body filling my nose with his smell; warmth and comfort. God I like him.

I wear the shirt more on days that I turn the heat on, days when he’s not here. His shirt makes me feel a little bit closer to him, being without him makes me feel a bit hollow yet his shirt managed to fill that void.

When he comes back from patrol he waits out front keeping the car on despite my protests that he should sleep, I can tell that he’s tired. He calls and I pick up “I want to kill time with you and I bought you juice.”

“Fine, I hope you’re okay with pj’s though.”

You pick me up and take me home again

Head out the window again

We're hollow like the bottles that we drain

You drape your wrists over the steering wheel

Pulses can drive from here

We might be hollow, but we're brave

I love these roads where the houses don't change (and I like you)

Where we can talk like there's something to say (and I like you)

I'm glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

We move in the tree streets

I'd like it if you stayed

Our feet kissed the tar on the road as we ran from the beach parking lot out to the shore, hanging out together we’d sometimes collect rocks seeing who can find the smoothest rock perfect for skipping across the surface of the sea.

Sometimes we’d kiss the tar on the highway stumbling back from a party ending up in a pile on his front lawn, spilling our guts to each other as our secrets filled the night.

A giggle erupts from my lips, “I like you Embry Call.”

“And I like you, (y/n)”

Embry and I can talk like there’s something to say while doing our own things, spending time with each other but enjoying our company. But we could also talk into the early hours of the morning if I’m able to convince him to stay over.

“I'd like it if you stayed.”

“Only because I want to and I like you.”

He kisses my cheek sending heat to my face along with the red tint that usually plasters my face.

We're never done with killing time

Can I kill it with you?

'Til the veins run red and blue

We come around here all the time

Got a lot to not do, let me kill it with you

I love these roads where the houses don't change (and I like you)

Where we can talk like there's something to say (and I like you)

I'm glad that we stopped kissing the tar on the highway (and I like you)

We move in the tree streets

I'd like it if you stayed

And I like you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#twilight #embry call #embry call x reader #paul lahote #seth clearwater #jacob black #sam uley #jared cameron #quil ateara #wolf pack #twilight wolves #twilight wolf pack

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nelapanela94 · 3 years ago

Text

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 16 | Chapter 18 >

17. Why did I agree to this?

tw: Mentions of Child abuse

It was six in the morning, just moments before sunrise; the east sky was growing brighter. The air was dank with the pleasant, dewy petrichor of the post-rain night. Blinking a few times, you stifled a yawn with your hand.

“Our ride is here,” you exclaimed, pointing at the dim avenue. The clopping of the hooves and the rattling of the wheels grew louder. Levi’s eyes darted towards your gesture and spot the wagon. There were some bundles fastened on the canopy top, wrapped in waterproof fabric.

“Were you waiting long?” The man holding the reins waved from the driver’s seat.

You shook your head. “Mornin’ Peter.”

“Mornin’, Y/N.” He bowed his head lightly and stopped the coach in front of you. He pushed the brake lever with his foot and stepped down.

The horses neighed hi to you.

“Morning to you too, Bronte, Fancy, Tucker, Alexia.” You patted the neck of the leftmost horse.

“I see you are in good company today.”

“Levi, this is Peter Volkov, he’ll be our driver to Sweet Daisy’s.”

The beardy man tipped his hat at Levi, wearing a warm smile, tiny wrinkles framed his droopy eyes.

“Then he’ll take us to Mitras and back to Shiganshina.”

“Such an honor to meet you, Captain.”

Levi shook the driver’s hand, wondering why it was an honor to meet him. People had placed a hefty burden on his shoulders.

Peter hopped on the long step, loosened the ropes and slung up one of the corners of the tarp to lodge your largest suitcase. Levi heaved the cedar trunk from the ground and handed it to the tawny hair man, who secured it on the top railing.

“We tried to accommodate the boxes and chests the best we could so there’s enough space for the two of you. I can’t’ guarantee about how comfortable the ride will be, but you’ll get there safely.” he apologetically said, rubbing a hand on his nape as his feet thumped on the cobblestone. “Those kids will be really happy, though.”

“Maybe I exceeded myself this time, but you know I loved seeing them smile.” You said and mounted the vehicle.

Levi followed you, he sighed and threw his backpack into the cart. “I’ll take the window.” He latched the door and squeezed in the seat next to you, brows knitted together. “What’s with all that?” his eyes wandered over the oversized luggage.

“These are presents,” you said, knocking on the biggest wooden chest. “I went through all the toy stores in Shiganshina looking for dolls, kites, puppets, hoops, toy wagons, rocking-horses, and stick horses. I got clothes and sweets too.”

“Since when you’ve been doing this?”

“It’s been four years already.”

“And why?”

You raised your shoulders. “All kids deserve to be kids, I guess. Dom and Anna are awesome. They do what they can, and although they receive government assistance, they are sometimes short of funds. I donate half of my wage.”

Levi refrained from hugging you, so he opted for shoving his fingers in your hair and ruffled it. This shitty world needed more yous.

After ten minutes on the road, Levi realized the cart didn’t have suspension, meaning you were bound to a rough ride. Every bump and rut on the road jarred your butts. At least his head wouldn’t crack up the roof. The picture of Miche’s head breaking through stole a subtle chuckle from him.

Shiganshina was connected to other villages and towns by unpaved roads. The stones suited for building had been stashed for repairing and reinforcing wall Maria, hence, there were not available for road-paving.

The main artery that connected Shiganshina to Trost district was crucial for commerce and trade, so it was natural to come across caravans on the road. Wagons brimming with supplies in both directions. Peter waved to other sunburned drivers.

The motion sickness pill had taken effect an hour ago, and you’d dozed off, your head lulled on Levi’s broad shoulder. Although his face did not convey it, Levi was delighted in the scenery that unfurled before him.

A year ago, his world was confined to the underground city; dull, damp, and smelly. The sewage of the Capital. A place where brothels and slaughterhouses proliferate, the latter not exactly for beef or pork, but for torture, murder and dismemberment. Where there’s no border line between day and night. A world that excoriates people’s outer layers and taught him at a very young age that the cruelty of human beings knows no bounds.

In the Underground city, all he could do with was to stay alive, that was his only purpose. Not to live but survive. Now, he found a place where he could make the most of what he could do, use his strength for a bigger intent. To fight for others, forge new relationships. Nonetheless, a part of him was also disappointed when he found out that he still resided inside a cage, a bigger cage, but a cage. All his life, he had been confined in the prison of prisons.

His eyes caressed the gamboling clouds, the blue of the sky, the yellowish green of the grass and the cropped hills rising in the distance; although nothing could compare to the wild views and fresh air outside the walls. Then he looked at you, and a smile danced at the corners of his lips. He couldn't help but wing an arm around you and skim a finger along your nose and cheeks and the crease of your mouth.

"Are we there yet?" you yawned without opening your eyes. You were still pale, dark circles bulging under your eyes; at least the sickly green you wore at the start of the trip had faded.

"We're three hours from Trost." Levi whispered in your ear. "We'll make a stop and have lunch."

"Don't talk about food if you don't want me to throw up on you."

He snorted and held you tight against him.

As wall Rose came in sight, the temperature dropped. The elevation there was much higher than the area Around Wall Maria and the closer you get to Wall Sheena, the higher it was. The capital was a thousand feet in altitude. Transportation costs from the capital to Shiganshina were considerably lower than in the opposite direction. It took less time, and the horses exerted less effort.

You stopped at a pub located on the main street of Trost for lunch. Peter claimed the sold the best stout in the district and Levi dragged you in while your head was being wrung and scrubbed on a washing board.

From the outside, it looked folksy, cozy and homey. Stacked stones and thick, carved pillars made up most of the building's outer structure. It was hard to see through the large, curtained windows, but the enjoyment from within could be felt outside.

As you entered the tavern through the heavily used, wooden door, you were welcomed by overall happiness, mugs slamming on the tables and a cloud of cigarette smoke prancing in the air. The bartender was engaged in a conversation, but still managed to welcome you with a wave. It seemed Peter was a recurring customer to this place and quite popular among diners.

It was as enchanting inside as it is on the outside. Squared, stone beams supported the upper floor and the torches attached to them. Animal heads and riffles bedecked the walls. It was clear that the owner was an avid hunter and the smells coming from the kitchen indicated the animals didn’t go to waste...

The tavern itself was packed, though nobody hinted to mind more company. Locals seemed to be the primary clientele here. Everyone was enjoying themselves but you. Your breakfast was about to sloshed back through your throat.

Trembling, cold and quiet, you sat down between the wall and Levi as Peter slipped on the bench in front of you.

In a normal situation you would have wolfed down the sausages and quaffed the beer to your heart's content, but the mere smell of food was stirring up your stomach. The tiny bones in your middle ears were still suspended in the torturous loop, your vision coming out of the blur.

“Excuse me,” you mumbled and rushed to the bathroom,

“She’ll never get use to the backbreaking trips,” Peter said sympathetically and stabbed his fork in the spicy pork sausage, hoisting it to his mouth. He swallowed and pointed his fork at Levi. “That girl’s an angel, you’d better take good care of her.” He cast a smug smile and winked.

Levi almost choked in his drink and coughed into a punched fist as he set the wooden mug on the table. He felt his cheeks fizzing warm. “It’s not... we’re not... you got it wrong.” He dithered, averting his eyes. “Gotta go too.” He tossed a thumb over his shoulder toward the restrooms.

Meanwhile, a pale, haggard woman looked back at you through the mirror. You splashed water on your face and tied your hair in a loose ponytail, then two knocks on the door called you.

“Oi, Y/N!” Levi’s voice broke through from the other side.

“One more sec.” You finished up preening, fixing the sleeves of your flowered sundress, striving to look decent.

“You alright?” He pushed the door open as you unlatched the lock. “You look awful.” He scrunched your cheeks in his palms.

So delicate.

“We could take you to the nearest hospital.”

“Not necessary,” you mumbled.

He removed his hands from your cheeks. “I won't ask if you are on drugs because I'm sure the answer is no. And I won't risk finding out otherwise.”

You pressed your lips together into a line to strangle a giggle. “Only on motion sickness pills.”

“Don’t hold back your laughter.” His thumb was now tracing languid circles on your upper arm, and a cottony chuckle toppled from your lips. “That’s better. With that laugh you’re more you.”

You chewed on your lip and shook your head.

“I ordered black tea for all.”

“Is it Levi approved?” He held the door open for you.

“It’s better than yours.”

After an hour's drive, you left behind the main artery that continued to Ehrmich and turned onto an alternate route. Peter skillfully maneuvered the reins, forging ahead on the narrow path, which resembled an animal trail. Unlike the road leading from Shiganshina to Trost, this one was full of stones on which the wheels clattered relentlessly.

You were heading east. Levi unrolled the back rear curtain close. The afternoon sun singed your backs.

Blighted flowers nodded along the barbed wire fence, little yellow birds chirped on the leaning white posts that were swallowed by the weeds. The noises of crickets and grasshoppers whirring enlivened the trip, as you left behind old rotting shacks and forgotten barn structures. In the distance, beyond the crop fields of barley and wheat, Levi descried a ranch-style house with a wide covered deck; the slats of wood worn out by the sun and rain.

Cows and sheep grazed on the meadow, and as you came closer and closer, he discerned the peep of chickens wandering the yard and pecking at the bugs in the dirt. An old, breathless dog lay on his side, tongue lolling out. Another sniffed under a shingle in the midst of his mouse hunt.

The wagon came to a halt.

He felt a swirl in his stomach, regretting that he had agreed to come here.

You had asked him to accompany you to the orphanage where you volunteered. Apparently, the last time you came, you let it slip that you knew Captain Levi from the Scouting Legion.

“Levi, they look up to you.” You begged him with your puppy eyes that he couldn’t say no to. You little cheater. “They want to meet their hero.”

“I’m not a hero, Y/N.” He scoffed as he dusted off behind the bed’s headboard.

“You are, to them. Please, don’t shatter their wish.”

He grabbed the broom and swept the cornices. “Fine,” he growled, blanking his eyes. You dropped your cloth and hugged him tight, tugging down the white handkerchief around his neck and pressed a peck on his cheek.

“You’re the best!” You flung your arms in the air in celebration.

“Tch. You’re missing the windows.”

You were still asleep on his shoulder, and before waking up, Levi watched you for a while, pressing his lips into a line to cushion a snort. The image lacked a drool dripping off your slacked mouth to be perfect.

You didn’t bother to hide the big yawn that roared of your mouth when Levi lightly nudged you to dragged you back from the realm of sweet dreams. A huge smile framed your lips. You latched open the bolt of the door and alighted from the vehicle.

The brats revered you. They ran towards you and encircled you as soon as your feet touched the ground. Levi counted eighteen kids, aged between four and fifteen, who welcomed you with hugs and squeals of joy. Their favorite big sister had returned with a wagon full of presents, and –ahem–, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. Levi just watched as you greeted everyone with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. You exuded an enchanting aura, your flowered dress fluttered in the wind; you looked like an angel. You were an angel to those children.

An angel for him too.

Levi fervently believed that he was not good with children. They were always covered with dirt or had snot running down their noses; and for some strange reason he blocked around them. No, rather, they blocked him by those innocent and witty questions.

A tall, middle-aged man with sun-browned skin, the first signs of age showing in his chestnut brown hair came out of the house accompanied by a lady with sandy blonde hair combed in a crown of braids, chubby pink cheeks, an olive-green dress that brushed her ankles.

“Dom. Anna!” You hooked your arms around them too. “It’s been a while.”

“My beautiful girl. More beautiful every day.” Anna’s cheeks sprained to her eyes in a wide, welcoming smile as she squeezed your shoulder.

“This is captain Levi. Levi, these are Dom and Anna.”

“It is an honor to meet you.” Dom doffed his hat and shook Levi’s hand.

“Big sis, this is a scam.” You heard a voice stroking your back and turned around, as well as fail attempts of suppressed chuckles and snorts from the other adults.

“Martin is right.” A little girl, missing her front upper teeth chirped, crossing her arms over her chest. “He can’t be captain Levi. He’s too short.”

“Big sis lied to us,” joined another girl with pigtails, carrying a teddy bear tucked against her chest and arm. She was disappointed too, throwing an accusative glance at you.

“Tch.” Brats. Levi’s eyes found you, pleading you to dragged him out of his quandary. “Lucy, Sara,” you crooned, kneeling behind them, sliding your arms around their backs. “This is the real captain Levi, the one who’s slaughtered dozens of titans himself, humanity’s hope…”

Levi was mentally begging you to stop coating him with sugar.

“…his height is a convenience. It grants him speed and dexterity to maneuver the gear.”

“What is dexterity?” Lucy asked.

“Skill.”

The two girls nodded at the same time, but Martin didn’t seem to buy your story. But he wasn't upset about the deception, a tangle of jealousy flared up in his chest. The fourteen-year-old wasn’t oblivious to the glances the two of you exchanged.

You stood, dusting off your skirt. "Does anyone have any questions to ask Captain Levi?"

Your eyes lingered around the fifteen hands rose in the air. “that has nothing to do with his height?”

Only one remained up.

“Yes, Elisabetta?”

“Are you going to marry Big sis?” The little cutie squeezed your hand, and her big blue eyes ensnared with Levi’s. The grown-up man felt powerless at that question. He didn’t see it coming, not at so close range.

“Uh…” he tips up his chin and scratched it, his gaze met yours for a second. A pink shade suffused your face too.

“She likes you.” She triggered the gun without giving him time to escape into the forest. A long and dense ‘ohhhhhhh’ enfolded you.

“Well, I hope you’re right.” Levi dropped and you stared at him, your eyes were about to bang out of your eye sockets, choking through a clogged throat.

A small smile peeked out on his lips; at least he had one brat in his corner.

“But he doesn’t look like the princes from the stories,” Lucy brat protested.

“They’re tall, blonde with blue eyes.” Sarah added more fuel to the fire.

Lucy and Sarah. Levi had already fulminated with glares two 5-year-old girls.

You spent the whole afternoon in the yard, handing out gifts and playing with the children. The younger girls had a tea party with their dolls and teddy bears. "Don't you want to join them?" You jeered, reaping a ‘tch’ from Levi. The boys under eight played with their wooden horses, leap the frog, then hide-and-seek, and betting dessert with 'Rolling the hoop'. Their task was to roll a large hoop on the ground to the settled finished point, driven by a stick. It took them several tries to keep the hoops rolling; the uneven ground represented a major challenge. Other kids were jumping rope, and the eldest boys picked nine pins, Peter was named the referee. They were quite competitive and needed someone to establish order.

Martin, Fred and Elijah got along well but when the spirit of competition and the determination to win came to the fore, they became a bombshell with a timer counting down.

Martin shoved his fingers to his hair and clenched his hands. Everyone could see how red his face was. An intrusive stone did not let one of the pins tumble down. Elijah was savoring the victory of the round.

“Holy Walls!”

“Holy walls what?” Levi asked.

“What the ‘fuck’, ref?” Martin brayed, his hands were tight fist by his sides.

“Did he just say ‘fuck’ to Peter?” A thin black eyebrow arched.

“Martin has a hard time controlling his mouth.” You peeped at Levi askance.

“You know the rules boy,” Peter sighed and annulled Martin’s round. “No cursing.”

“But–“

“Oi brat!” Levi said, curling a finger towards him. “Here. Now.”

“What?” The teenage boy barked and Levi hooked him by the back of his neck. You bit your giggles. It was a funny picture, Martin was at least three inches taller than Levi.

“Listen. I get it, but you can’t say that shit here.”

“Why not? You’ve cursed more in half a day than anyone in their entire life.”

“Because I’m an adult, I don’t have other adults breathing down my neck, nagging and telling me what to do.”

“What do I do then? It wasn’t fair, I could’ve won.”

“First rule of life: life’s not fair.” Levi ruffled Martin’s curls. “You can let it out, as loud as you want, in your head. Through your pores and in every breath, but don’t say it unless you want to lose the game. You know you’re fucking better than that. You just got a temper, but you have to learn how to control it before it takes over you. Get it?”

Green eyes bored the ground, and Martin nodded earnestly. “Yeah, I guess, but, that means, I can swear when I’m eighteen?”

“All the fuck you want.”

Martin felt a pat on his back and uttered a thanks before resuming the game.

“I’m completely abashed. And you say you’re not good with kids.” You quipped.

“Shut up.”

After dinner, you took a quick shower and slipped into your night gown. You were sitting on the swing at the porch, rocking languidly back and forth. An oil lamp light hit shy on your face, and your eyes flickered to its direction, distinguishing Levi’s figure in the halo.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He sat at the wooden bench, leaning his back against the wall, the light of the lamp hardly blinked on the floor.

“I owe you a big one, Levi.”

“You owe me nothing.”

You leaped off on your feet and slithered next to Levi. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t gripe, as if his body had already grown inured to your closeness. “You smell good. You always smell good.” Your voice came out in a silky whisper that fondled his ears. You close your eyes, snuggling against his shoulder; your hand slipped over his leg, and he swallowed it in his palm. His arm hooked around you, pulling you closer as if there was any little space left between the two.

Your world was narrowed down to the buzz of the hornets swirling around nest hanging from the eaves; the air muggy with a mesh of manure, fresh hay and mildew; the rustling leaves waggling in the wind; the early fall breeze gnawing your skin.

It felt alright.

Levi was hypnotized in the flashing fireflies dancing gaily, gemming the bushes like glowing drops of rain.

You and he was all that was right.

“Hey Rocco,” the mix-breed dog nuzzled up to his thighs, looking at him with rounded eyes, tongue tipping out, wagging its tail from side to side. Levi stroked his head and shushed him, warning him with a leery glance not to wake you up.

The screen door creaked open followed by the chirping voice of one of his new sworn enemies. “Stay away from big sis.”

Nice brat girl Elisabetta walked hand in hand with Lucy. A bleary groan percolated off your throat as you stretched your arms over your head.

“Lucy, Lizzie, hey.” You groggily said; Rocco went after a butterfly. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t let him touch you.” Lucy frowned, both girls towing your hands.

“Why?”

“Because boys have different pee-pees.” Elisabetta shielded one side of her mouth and secretly not so secretly whispered. “That’s why they can pee standing.”

“And if they touch you hand, you can have a baby.” Lucy added, glowering at Levi.

“No way!” You faked astonishment at the eye-opener information, splaying a hand over your chest. “Did you hear that, Levi?” You slung his arm off your shoulders, careful not to touch his hand, and stood up. That’s why you love kids, for their innocence and unfiltered way of speaking. Your eyes drifted to him, and your lips set into a thin line, swallowing your laughter.

Lucy curled her pudgy hand around your forefinger while Elisabetta pushed you from behind. You tilted your head to the side and shrugged, one palm facing up, and a sheepish ‘I’m sorry. Have fun with the boys’ drew on your lips before blowing out a good-night kiss.

“Can you tell us the story of the princess and the dragon and the tower?”

The voice faded as you stepped into the house.

Another reason why he wasn’t fond of those nagging brats. But they loved you and you loved them, and one day you’d be a great mother. A heat wave surged through his body, painting his cheeks red; and he shook his head to get rid of the fretting thought.

Without further ado, Levi headed for the boys' room but bewilderment slathered on his face as soon as he entered. “What’s the matter?” he queried, approaching to the bed were Elijah was holding close one of the youngest boys. Tears streamed down the five-year-old’s face, he was gazing down, rubbing the back of his hands over his eyes. “Jack woke up crying,” The boy with the large scar on his cheek said with dismay. “He misses his mother.”

The mattress sagged as Levi sat down, and he ran his fingers through his hair, a soft puff whizzed of his mouth in a sigh of languor. His eyes softened and slid closer, slipping his hands under Jacks arms and hoisted him to sit him on his thighs. “All of you,” he addressed to the curious children, “to bed, now. Nothing to see here.” Nine of the ten boys that shared the same room, nodded and obeyed; the candles on the nightstands were blown off, and only the wee sobs lingered in the air.

Levi wished you were there; you would’ve handled this situation better than him. He didn’t know what to say, but eventually found himself dandling the boy until his weeping dwindled.

“Thanks, big bro,” Jack muttered, lowly, hardly audible, and that’s when your words crammed into his head. That’s the thing with orphan kids. They don’t care who you are. If you’re nice to them, you’ll automatically become their big bro, and nothing will break that bound.

His own tears seeped into Jack’s auburn hair.

Fuck. He needed to get out of there, he needed fresh air.

He tucked Jack into bed and sneaked out of the room, crossed the living room to the porch.

He rested his forehead against a column, trying to breathe, but a knot in his chest impeded him. It was too much for his heart to handle, the grown began to quiver. Levi squeezed his eyes close; his nails were digging into his palms.

“Hey, Big bro.” A voice skimmed his back.

He felt another twinge in his chest.

Big bro dusted off his trunk of memories. And it hurt.

Levi gulped and ran a hand down over his face, fighting to keep his composure, and turned around.

“Uh?”

“Do you know how to play Nine Men’s Morris?”

A boy of his height, slim with coppery brown hair and black eyes that glowed in the dark. He carried a board against his chest and a bulge in a pocket of his pants, from which the knot of a jute pouch protruded. The pieces, Levi guessed.

Levi used to play Farlan at night while Isabel watched cluelessly until she fell asleep in the living room.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Levi ventured, resting his back against the wall.

"I often have nightmares; I'd rather skip it."

Who was Levi to judge?

Fred had been sold by his parents when he was three for a loaf of bread and a few coins that didn't last more than an hour in Fred Sr.'s pockets. A wealthy family had bought him to be the whipping boy for their youngest son. Every time he committed one of his misdeeds, it was Fred who had to endure the scalding whips on his back until he passed out from the pain. At eight, he managed to escape by traveling in caravans and living on any handout so as not to die of starvation until one Sunday, in the Trost market, he gambled by stealing some apples from a fruit stall, but the owner caught him. Before punishing him, or handing him over to the police, Dom Mercer, who had witnessed the greatest theft of the century, intervened. He paid for the fruit and took Fred home.

Fred was quiet and distrustful during his first year at the Mercer’s. During the day, like the other children, he attended homeschooling, and in the afternoons, he engrossed in his chores without reproach. In the evenings, he devoured the books from the shelf in the living room, until one day he found the board and asked Dom to teach him how to play.

The older children he used to play with were old enough to fend for themselves, the others had no interest, and Mr. Dom hardly had time.

"I hope we don't get eaten by mosquitoes.” Levi peeled off the wall.

Fred smiled and followed the dim light swinging in Levi's hand.

"Thanks, Big bro Levi."

Time passed, and without realizing it, daylight was creeping up the stairs.

Two days later, you said goodbye to the big Mercer family. The younger girls cried, having your shins in captivity. Dom said goodbye to Levi with a firm handshake, while Anna gave him a squeezy hug and a kiss on the cheek, like a mother saying goodbye to her child, hoping for his soon return home.

"Thanks, you have been very kind." You said, caressing the girls’ heads.

"Thank you. You will always be welcome. And take good care of her, really, that girl is an angel." Anna winked at Levi, patting his back, and he couldn't help but blush.

"She and I... we are not..." He stuttered, as his eyes wandered to you.

"Stop niggling, sweetheart." Dom slipped an arm around her waist and drew her to him. "Bon voyage," he addressed the red-haired man.

"Thanks."

When the stars fall asleep masterlist⭐Part 1 - The Jar of Stars guide⭐< Chapter 16 | Chapter 18 >

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x y/n #Levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #levi attack on titan #snk levi #levi aot #nela writes #when the stars fall asleep

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Mania.4

[MASTER LIST] [Mania Master list]

Beta: N/A Rating: Mature 18+ Pairing: BTS OT7 Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Comedy, Omegaverse Words: 1.3k Blood types: Namjoon, Jhope, Jungkook, Yoongi (A) Taehyung (AB) Jin, Jimin and Yoongi (O) (Jimin in real life is an A blood type)

Summary: At eighteen everyone takes a blood test to find out their blood types. A, B, or O. Each blood type represents the person’s secondary gender Alpha, Beta or Omega and can be Dominant (+) or Recessive (-).

When small thin Yoongi receives his letter he doesn’t expect A+. There was no way he was an Alpha especially not a dominant. But as time passes he shows no Alpha nor Omega tendencies and frankly he doesn’t care. Working in his father’s electrical business helps pay the bills but Yoongi’s real passion is music.

One very hot day in the roof space of a luxury apartment that Yoongi is rewiring an intoxicatingly pleasant smell churns his insides and he finds himself in need of something to quench his thirst.

[First] [Prev] [Mania] [Next]

Yoongi almost felt normal, well his ‘normal’ before everything he knew turned upside and inside out. He was back to working in his father’s business and all he had to do was take one small pill. Pulling on his jumpsuit, he called his father just to confirm, he was perfectly capable of completing the work he missed.

Grabbing the keys, the bottle of pills, he decided against the stronger dose as the mild one worked perfectly fine yesterday. Getting into the van he put the address into his GPS and drove to the gated estate in which the famous band members stayed. It was a long drive but Yoongi couldn’t even bring himself to be tired, he wondered if it was the iced americano that made him happy. He repressed any thoughts that it might have something to do with the fact he was heading back to the apartment filled with the impressive Alphas and beautiful Omegas.

He would be lying if he hadn’t felt his heart flutter when he thought about seeing Seokjin and Jimin again in the flesh and a tiny flutter in his tummy when he thought of the Powerful Alpha’s each with a delicious scent that haunted him.

Yoongi pulled into the driveway and stopped before the Barrier Arm his window in line with the security booth, he leaned over showing his ID and giving his business.

“You aren’t on the list?” Yoongi frowned and called the number Seokjin had given him and it went through on the third call.

“Hello, this is Kim Seokjin,” the omega answered, making Yoongi take a sharp breath, his mouth feeling dry.

“Hey, it’s Min Yoongi, your electrician, I am out the front to finish up the repairs but I can’t get in, I can come back another day if it’s not a convenient time” Yoongi flushed as the security guard watched him, it was awkward.

“I will come down, wait there” the phone line went dead and Yoongi forced a laugh.

“Have you had a long day?” it was such an awkward question on top of an awkward situation, Yoongi wanted to leave quickly. His savior came in the form of Kim Seokjin who slipped into the car and the barrier arm was lifted.

“Why are you so pink?” Seokjin asked, placing the back of his hand on Yoongi’s forehead.

“I just made an absolute fool of myself with the gatekeeper,” Yoongi huffed his lips pursing, “I am never coming back here again,”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Seokjin laughed “I enjoy your company and I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, well that’s it you can never leave, if you see him again you will turn into a tomato”

Yoongi laughed wholeheartedly, something about Seokjin’s expressions was so lively and comical and it made Yoongi feel giddy just seeing it. Like he could play around and not be judged, not that Yoongi had ever really cared what people thought of him. It’s just he usually had a stone-cold exterior and found it awkward to speak about anything outside of a professional setting.

So it was easy to laugh and joke around even embarrass himself in front of the omega when it couldn’t compare to what had happened during his heat, this man had seen him at his worst and yet still wanted to be friends and that's what gave Yoongi the confidence to relax.

“Come on in, let me help carry some things,” Seokjin said, “Oh, I forgot to warn you, Jimin is in heat but he is in his bedroom and that shouldn’t affect anything right?”

Yoongi shrugged unsure if it would affect him or not, he hadn’t been exposed to anyone in a heat, hell he had only had a heat once. “I’m not sure,”

“How did the appointment with the specialist go, you were available, I didn’t know if you were busy on that day so I just guessed, I hoped you could make it, it’s not easy getting into seeing the specialist there as she is very good.” Seokjin said

“She doesn’t take new patients either so I am wondering what strings you pulled to get me an appointment?” Yoongi huffed the stairs and took a lot out of him and the two stopped halfway on a small landing to catch their breath. The two laughed at one another, “I am getting too old for this?”

“Tell me about it, everyone else seems to be spring chickens and I am over here taking afternoon naps,” Seokjin laughed “The only thing that doesn’t age is my pretty face and my attitude.”

“I want a nap,” Yoongi mumbled, getting to the top of the staircase and walking down the hall until they reached a familiar door.

Seokjin opened the door, with a cheeky grin, “You can take a nap and finish the work in an hour if you want?”

The house was as luxurious as Yoongi remembered, he declined the offer to rest wanting to get his work finished. He stepped in hesitantly and the scents lingered in the walls carpet and floated in the air like pollen. It was captivating and safe and for the first time since he left he relaxed.

Taking out the clip board, Yoongi went over the details of where he was adding new powerpoints and light switches that he had run through the roof the last time he was here. He switched off the power as he always did for his own safety and got to work. It was easy and with every breath he felt his body relax calmer and calmer until his eyes shut for a moment.

“Jin, the air conditioner isn’t working,” Yoongi caught the most delicious scent drifting down the hallway and when he turned he saw a very naked and extremely sweaty Hoseok in his boxes.

“Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t know we had guests?” Hoseok said, Yoongi didn’t want to admit it but the band members had left a strong impression on him and he spent his time researching their music and finding out about each member's personality.

Yoongi was captivated by Jimin his singing and dancing, the way he moved was honestly so captivating that Yoongi could admit he had fallen in love with Jimin when he performed. But, his eyes were often stolen by Hoseok, in interviews he stole the spotlight and made Yoongi laugh, and in his dance he could be a total wild card. Was he sweet, sexy, tough, romantic, bouncy and light, or soft and passionate?

Hoseok seemed the total opposite of Yoongi, Hoseok was outgoing and loud by nature, and well that intrigued Yoongi a lot more than he wanted to admit.

“The power is out, because Yoongi is finishing up the electrical work,” Seokjin said exasperated, “maybe try not to…”

Seokjin dropped his voice and Hoseok giggled, “You know Jimin whines if I don’t give him what he wants.”

Moving to the fridge which was right beside Yoongi. Yoongi tried to focus on his work as he leant over the counter to reach the back wall where he was attaching wires for a powerpoint.

Hoseok moving closer pushed his scent in Yoongi’s direction making his stomach churn and his knees weaken. He reached into his pocket and took the mild pill and he sighed in relief, knowing he was safe.

What he didn’t expect was for Hoseok to slide past him, he put a hand on Yoongi’s waist as a preemptive warning that he was stepping behind him, and he reached up trying to grab a glass from the cupboard above Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi felt the churn in his stomach again, this time heavier, his legs shook and he gripped the counter a small whimper falling past his lips. Yoongi tried to lift his chest from the counter but it was a form of submission and his body automatically doubled over the bench for the dominant Alpha behind him. His earthy scent was intoxicating, grapefruit, pepper and cedar. He was fresh, spicy, and warm.

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ciggylungz · 5 years ago

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Rivals. c2

Rivals: chapter 2

3.2k words

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?

When Friday rolled around Y/n was excited, she’d had a grueling week and been working 18 hours a day for the past 6 days so she was more than thrilled to have a break. Friday’s were usually pretty tame in the office, but just her luck that day a new product design was dumped on her desk and she was tasked with going through the mountains of papers filled with advertisement ideas, promotion pictures and commercial ideas for the new line of clothes and perfumes coming out for the winter season since they were a few weeks away from December. Due to the time crunch she couldn’t really afford to push it off, so she sat at her desk and reviewed everything well past her normal hours.

It was around 7 in the evening when she pulled out the bottle of tequila she kept in her desk for late nights like this, grabbing some ice from the office kitchen and a tonic water from her own mini fridge stashed in the closet in her office. She kept the lighting low, her eyes already feeling the strain of the fluorescent bulbs and fine print papers after hours of reading and she’d like to save the headache for the next morning if possible.

She was a tad bit startled when a knock sounded at her office door, she glanced to the clock seeing it was nearing 10 at night and she knew her assistant left at 8 so she was a surprised by the interruption. Of course, he had to be the one knocking. Even through her mild intoxication she could tell that curly mop of hair as him, his face joining his locks a second later as he waltzes into her office. His lips were tugged in a small smile, hands holding a binder with a plastic bag cradled in his left one.

“Ah! Getting a bit wild in the office tonight? Tequila, you naughty girl!” he gave her a fake disapproving look companied with a stern finger pointing between her and the now half empty bottle. Y/n was always a bit looser after a drink, so she didn’t have her usual bitter comeback loaded she instead felt a strange shot of happiness? Relief? Fondness? She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was too foreign of a feeling to be associated with the man. The woman didn’t understand why she didn’t feel the sense of loathing tugging at her when he spoke, instead she let out a small laugh before flipping him off.

Harry was surprised yet pleased at her reaction. He always loved tipsy y/n, the booze seemed to soften her overly serious nature and make her a bit sweeter. They had some of their best moments together after they had a good buzz going, they’d even had a few instances of cuddling during their alcohol induced haze. He remembers those times fondly; he thinks back on them at times when they’re arguing or in the middle of a grudge holding session. Harry knew she’d never admit it, but deep down behind all her walls she really was a loving, sweet girl. She always had been yet her pride and fear of vulnerability would never let her admit it.

“Hello Harry, any reason you’ve broken into my place of work?” she tipped the glass back to her lips, taking another sip of her cocktail as she waited for his response. She watched him set his things down, shrugging his suit jacket off before rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “Saw you through the window, was workin’ late myself. Thought misery needed a bit of company, and knowing you I knew you’d probably need a designated driver for the night miss tequila.” He lifted his eyebrows in a slight teasing manner, a smile growing on her lips as she giggled quietly, raising her hands in surrender. “bad habits die hard, huh?” she retorted, the smile didn’t drop from her features and Harry loved it. She always had such a beautiful smile. Her plushy lips molded into the shape, her braces did their job giving her a perfect even smile. She had a genuine smile on, he could tell by the way it met her eyes that seemed to brighten when she was in a good mood. She was beautiful. He truly didn’t understand why she had always been so self-conscious. he hated when she’d talk negatively about her looks, weight, body etc. He’d always found her to be a very beautiful woman, and her strong personality amplified that even further.

“That they do miss Y/l/n, they do indeed.” He agreed with a nod, reaching his hand into the previously noted bag pulling out some bread, followed by small slices of cheese and finally a container of grapes. They both shared a love for the particular grouping of food, often having it for snack as kids or packing it when they went on little trips with their friends. It was their thing in a sense. He might amp it up a bit to feel a special bond with her in some way, even if it’s just over a love of the same foods.

“Brought some goodies, might share with you if you’re nice to m’.” Harry made himself comfortable on the couch, toeing off his shoes to leave him in his red dress socks. He liked to have accent colors when he dressed for work, often opting for pocket squares, socks or collar pins to tie together his outfits. He had decided early on just because he was in a work environment didn’t mean he had to dress boring, he worked in fashion for Christ sake so he enjoyed a bit of complimentary accessories. Tastefulness is key though, and he knew how to pick them right.

Y/n polished off her drink, reaching to pour herself another mixing it with a coffee straw she snagged from the kitchen during her original venture out. the woman shrugged slightly, taking a sip with a little smack of her lips at the strongness. She went a bit heavy on the tequila this time around.

“Eh, I’m on a diet anyway.” Her response amused Harry, chuckling lightly before popping a grape into his mouth. He always appreciated someone with a quick wit, and Y/n checked that box for him. He was starting to realize she checked most of his boxes regarding things he found attractive…and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

It was nearing midnight when Y/n started to show signs she was fully drunk. Her head bobbed slightly, body lightly swaying and Harry saw her eyes flutter every so often. He could read her like a book, he knew she was stressed, tired and wasted just from a single glance. The man found it quite cute, she looked so soft and cute when she was in this state. She radiated that type of energy that made you want to hug her; she wasn’t as guarded and flighty. She looked utterly trashed but relaxed and he didn’t mind the drunkenness if it meant she wasn’t as worked up as usual. She worked hard; the woman deserved to let loose once in a while.

“Hey, think it’s time to head out hmm?” Harry slowly sat up as he spoke, stretching with a few quiet pops of his joints. Y/n lifted her head slightly, giving him doe eyes and a pouty lip. “but I have work to do…” a hiccup sounded after she spoke, making her body jolt slightly. “It’ll be there on Monday, it’s late and you’re wasted love. C’mon time to go, hey don’t get all misty eyed on me it’s okay. Swear it’s alright, everything will get done.”

Harry frowned mid-way through his sentence seeing her eyes gloss with tears. She could be quite an emotional drunk, she bottled up her feelings 24/7 so in any sort of weakened state she began to crack. Harry had seen it only twice in the thirteen years of knowing her. The first time they were 15, she’d just broken up with her boyfriend at the time who was a total douche and he’d spent the six months the pair were together practically bullying the girl and mainly spending the time they had together fucking her. she had gotten absurdly drunk and walked to Harry’s home, sobbing and shaking only to spend the rest of the night cuddled into his chest. it was a toxic relationship and Harry always hated that guy; he gave the boy a few swift kicks to the ribs a few days after the incident. The second was during spring break, the pair were freshly 20 and someone had groped her at the club. Y/n had a panic attack on the bathroom floor and Harry sat with her the whole time, even though the filthy floor was sticky with booze and god knows what else he didn’t even think of leaving her behind.

Y/n took in a deep breath nodding her head slightly, letting Harry put the bottle back in it’s hiding spot and organize her papers before getting himself situated and heading to the car. With some episodes of tripping over her own feet and dizziness he’d managed to get her into the passenger seat, buckling her and joining her in the vehicle.

“Y/n no, you can’t smash the window! Where are your house keys? Put the rock down”

Bargaining with someone who’s intoxicated was never easy, but he was worried about the woman chucking a random stone through her first-floor window instead of just unlocking the door. Drunk minds aren’t the soundest he supposed seeing as he was prying a rouge rock from y/ns hand.

Eventually the keys were located and used to forge entry into her modest town house. Unlike her parent’s y/n wasn’t into flashy mansions and cars. She didn’t see a purpose for such a large home when she was the only resident, plus it creeped her out knowing there would be more room for potential squatters if she had opted for an 8-bedroom 6-bath mansion like her parents had for the 3 of them. She was never someone who fancied showing off expensive thing, she found it tacky and risky because you’re flashing to people that you have expensive things to steal. So, when she purchased a home, she opted for a modest 2-bedroom town house and she really did love it.

Harry was greeted with a subtle scent of cedar and nutmeg, reminding him y/n always opted for fall themed candles and home fragrances. She felt it made places feel cozier and warmer. contrary to her guarded and sometimes cold personality, she always wanted her home to feel welcoming.

Her décor was nice, a large leather couch with some dark red throw pillows along with a fuzzy blanket folded and draped over the back of the furniture. Some arm chairs also filled the Livingroom, art hung evenly on the wall and a tv mounted right in the center of the adjacent wall. A nice area rug and coffee table really finished off the center room, it was an inviting set up and Harry had to resist the urge to sit on the large couch that seemed to be calling to him as he started walking her up the steps.

The bedframe groaned as she flopped herself down on her mattress, a content sigh leaving her lips as the woman kicked off her shoes. “mmmm love my bed, missed it.” The woman placed an affectionate pet to her pillow, Harry laughing slightly at her antics whilst searching her dresser for clothes to change her into. Pinching a pair of sleep shorts and a tshirt before tossing it on the bed making his way into her bathroom so she could change in private.

Once the girl was situated, he reappeared, picking up her dirty clothes and putting them in her hamper for her. everything was going well, they weren’t fighting and she seemed to really be enjoying his presence but because Harrys an idiot he had to ruin it.

“maybe if you weren’t such a raging bitch, I wouldn’t have to come take you home and you’d have a boyfriend who could huh?”

He intended it to be their playful teasing, how they usually pick on each other and make rude comments but it came across harsher than intended. He sounded utterly mean and spiteful, and after Y/n had spent the evening warming up to him and even enjoying his company that felt like a smack in the face. Just when she thought maybe he’d changed or wasn’t so bad he had to make a comment, picking a topic she was already very sensitive about because all her previous relationships were very abusive and put her in the position she was in now of being so guarded and cold she was left to a life of loneliness.

There was a beat of silence, Harry registering his tone and how he’d just switched the atmosphere entirely. There was no sense of playfulness anymore, just hurt and anger. He regretted ever opening his mouth, seeing the woman look away from him with veins visible on her neck from the restraint she was using to hold back her tears. She cursed herself for drinking, it always made her more sensitive and she felt like a fool for not seeing Harry was just waiting for her to become vulnerable so he could strike back even when truly it wasn’t his intention, his actions left her with only that theory to believe.

Y/n cleared her throat and shot him the best glare she could while her eyes burned with tears begging to escape. “You can see yourself out Harry.” The dismissal was curt and quiet, there was no option for bargaining or pleading because she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. Harry knew when to pick his battles with her so he knew it was best he left, sighing slightly before leaving the bedroom making sure he locks her front door for her on his way out. he’s never wanted to beat his own ass so bad in his life.

As much as Y/n tried to hide it under her cold, blunt exterior- she was extremely insecure and broken inside. She never learned how to express her emotions or hurt. Y/n never had parents there to guide her nor comfort her in her times of need. She’d never had anyone who cared about her to look out for her besides neglectful nannies who left her to her own devices most of her childhood. She was emotionally stunted, and it had made her vulnerable to shitty people her whole life. It led to her having a 17-year-old boyfriend when she was 13 that pressured her into losing her virginity and emotionally abused her the entirety of their year long illegal relationship. It put her in the position of having a revolving door of toxic abusive relationships with cruel boys who treated her poorly, her father was never around so she never had an example of a good man so she resorted to getting attention and validation in whatever form she could even when it was harmful and a façade to use her body and status. The woman was never taught how to handle her emotions and it led to her clawing for control in any way she could, any sort of distraction and turned her to dark, destructive behaviors in her teen years that still haunt her in the form of physical and mental scars now that she’s in her adult years. She’d practically had to raise herself, and now that she’s grown, she’s running the company that stole her parents from her. she can’t tell who she hates more, her parents or herself.

Harrys word seemed to pop the stitches on an internal wound she thought was close to healing. While he was joking, she couldn’t tell. It was said with such a bitter malice it made her skin crawl. Sure, they’ve been mean to each other for 13 years but in her vulnerable state and the knowledge he had of her past his words seemed deliberate and cruel for the sole purpose of hurting her. not a stupid joke like he’d intended.

She couldn’t get it out of her head, she spent the remainder of the weekend nursing her hangover and a wounded soul. Her mind was screaming self-hating words, cruel statements towards herself and pushing her to look for comfort in another person again even when she knew she was vulnerable to falling back into the arms of yet another man who wasn’t good for her but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough about herself to make the best choices for her. she felt like she had something to prove to Harry, herself and the universe that she wasn’t so horrible that no one could stand to be around her even if the person she chose only stuck around to leech off her. it was a stupid mindset, one that’s left her torn to shreds numerus times since her early teenage years but the spiral Harrys verbal bite sent her into had her internally turning back into 14-year-old y/n who just wanted to feel like she mattered. She was setting herself up for pain again, she knew it. But like she stated before, old habits die hard.

and y/n decided she must be a glutton for punishment when her fingers started typing in the familiar number of her ex.

#harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #rivals #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles concept #harry styles au #CEO!harry #CEO!yn

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