#i remember this so clearly now. this was inspired by a clip i took of a genji saving me with his deflect and i fell in love right then | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 1 year

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Okay, not trying to monopolize the inbox lol, but ive been thinking about things all morning, and i want to give context to my reactions to some things because you’re so talented you deserve to know exactly how much this affected me!

- Oh god, Ryen, dont take this from us: “Yoongi decides that he wants more of it. In a lot of other aspects of his life.”

He’s wanting things for himself! Yes, reader was the catalyst, but everyone gets inspired by something, and you kind of have to to come out of dark shit. That he’s gotten to a point where he wants to be better for HIMSELF! In more ways than outside the relationship! I know this was discussed more in the interlude, but this line right here hit me right in the feels. The way you have fully given us this example of what this type of growth looks like, how painful that process can be while it’s happening!

- “If he’s gonna bow out, he’s gonna do all the shit he wants to do first. One last time before reality fully severs the string that shouldn’t have tethered to your heart.” No he’s going to break her… no no no no no

I love that i was proven wrong here, that even if he didn’t open up to her, she would have been okay, that she learned how to be okay for herself!!! It still would have been devastating for me, but she would have been okay!!

- “If it was Yuri instead…” oop!!

Again you explored this further (i just love your writing, man), when she was talking about feeling betrayed. I love this exploration of the role reversal!! I’m guessing when they tell bro or in the build-up to that you’ll go more i to WHY she would feel betrayed… I’m trying to imagine one of my friends dating one of my sisters behind my back, maybe i just hate my sister’s current boyfriend enough that i can’t relate lol

- “Of course, this could just be another byproduct of your worrying, so you blaze past it. No more of that, remember? He’s proven himself over and over that you don’t have to second guess.” Ryen no!!!! How could you!!! Worry, girl worry!!!!

Ryen, I was gonna throw hands if my girl’s non-worrying was punished!!! Seriously though, just the way you show this growth in her thought process and how it can be hard to find where you can trust your instincts, but how she can do that by clearly identifying the external cues that give actual credence to the fear! It’s like a masterclass! I’m taking notes! I feel weird that my feedback is mostly about like… how you demonstrate anxiety… But it’s the way you talk about something so important (at the very least to me, but im guessing a whole lot of people) in a way that’s clear but still entertaining, emotional, is a catalyst for conflict and resolution story-wise in a way that’s true to life. It’s so good!!

- “This old, silly man.”

My favorite fucking line. Especially bc when i watch videos and clips of real life Yoongi i express this same sentiment all the time lol! Also this as the turning point for her realizing how she impacts him, of not just seeing herself as the recipient of good things in this relationship. Chefs kiss!

- “And you’ll be okay. No matter what happens now, you’ll brave those waters.”

Like i said before, this was so great! The joy i felt here for her! I felt so proud!!

- “Holy fuck, what else has he been screaming without a word? “ shit

‘Screaming without a word’ that hit me so hard! Just making me feel things over here without holding my hand?!?!?

- “Yoongi [10:06pm]: It’s all good. I got us” oh thank fuck

Not my distrustful ass ruminating last night about whether Jimin or Tae took his phone to reassure her bc he’s actually freaking out smh Literally none of my predictions of angst have been right! Need to get like reader and take your cues and not make up pain in my head!

I’m so glad i came across your blog and this story! You’ve given me so much, and done so in the most masterful way! Such a talent!!

-🚌

BUSSSS IM FINALLY HERE DFKDSF you posted this so quickly after forfeit dropped, too.. goodness. i will try not to be this late to responding again omfg i feel so bad for all the late ass responses T^T

you aren't monopolizing omg!! you can send as many messages as you want to, anytime<33

- Oh god, Ryen, dont take this from us: “Yoongi decides that he wants more of it. In a lot of other aspects of his life.”

you really do have to get yourself out of dark shit, bc at the end of the day you only have you! and i'm glad you noticed that he wants to be better for himself before anything else. that's the growth that i want all of us to have, not just our beloved 3tan yoongi. and it really can be so painful and scary?? but we will all be better for it when we start that process.

i'm glad you were proven wrong, too! because we all expect the worst (3tan yoongi very much included) but that didn't happen. reader would've been okay because they are so strong, but i'm glad that things unfolded the way they did.

- “If it was Yuri instead…” oop!!

AHHH YES. not a lot of people talked about the realization that reader had when thinking about the situation if it was flipped. like what if bro was hooking up with one of her friends? what if it was one of the friends we are used to seeing?? like that would be awkward as hell!! so why wouldn't reader and yoongi's situation be perceived any differently?

it's always fun to introduce new perspectives, especially when we're so entrenched in one for a long time. reality is a b it ch sometimes so there's that lol

DFLSDFHSD you really brought out to the masterclass word i'm gonna cry!! but yes, i knew reader has matured mentally up to this point - i mean, it's been a few chapters, so.. gotta see some incremental growth throughout them all! to show that growth in different ways is certainly a challenge, but one that i am very fine with trying to overcome.

I feel weird that my feedback is mostly about like… how you demonstrate anxiety… But it’s the way you talk about something so important (at the very least to me, but im guessing a whole lot of people) in a way that’s clear but still entertaining, emotional, is a catalyst for conflict and resolution story-wise in a way that’s true to life. It’s so good!!

whoa whoa don't feel weird about that at alllll, bus. you know my writing is intentional, so everything i bring up and talk about? you bet it's on purpose.

what is writing if not a little bit of social commentary? anxiety, depression, and any other mental subjects people deal with are prevalent and need to be discussed - and taught accurately about - a lot more. whether people pick up on these subjects while reading or not, i want them to be as normally presented as they would show up in life. because they're there.

we can't shy away from these things or see them as weaknesses, either, bc they are not.

- “This old, silly man.”

AHAHAH YESSS we love our silly old man that's my age but i digress. and the realization hidden in this line, too? i'm glad you noticed<33 now reader knows that they aren't alone in the cloudy mind department.

- “And you’ll be okay. No matter what happens now, you’ll brave those waters.”

Like i said before, this was so great! The joy i felt here for her! I felt so proud!!

god, i'm so proud of both of them. i really do wanna dive back into this chapter again just to witness everything all over again.

- “Holy fuck, what else has he been screaming without a word? “ shit

‘Screaming without a word’ that hit me so hard! Just making me feel things over here without holding my hand?!?!?

ahhhh.. thank you omg.. this commentary hit me in the feels!!

- “Yoongi [10:06pm]: It’s all good. I got us” oh thank fuck

SLDFDSHF the overthinking aspect is so real, too!! like yes it makes for something to write about but dear god i know how overthinking can really get to you.

I’m so glad i came across your blog and this story! You’ve given me so much, and done so in the most masterful way! Such a talent!!

thank you so much for everything, bus!! you've been so wonderful to have here and i'm glad you're enjoying all the writing. i am blushing so hard right now LOL you better quit before i cry even more!

#i love you!!!#🚌 anon #asks:3tan #3tan9 #all the forfeit reviews and commentary have me crying in the club #like damn y'all didn't hold back and i love it #lovely people #*ryenfictalk #mailbox💌#long post

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annamaxwell-girlinnovators · 2 years

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Week 7 - Greta

Greta is an excellent example to us all. We lie to our youth and tell them to recycle and save energy, yet live a highly consuming lifestyle and tell them it’s going to be okay when temperatures are rising. Greta eerily predicted that nature would fight back through diseases, heat waves, and water shortages. Here we are now in the middle of a pandemic. Everyone is waiting for things to get “back to normal” while still living a lifestyle that is damaging to the planet. Greta has stopped buying new things and has stopped flying - even to the point where she took a boat in order to visit New York.

I was caught off guard by the opening, which sees Thunberg sit down with her little sign outside the Riksdag and get entirely ignored by virtually everyone who passes her. Because this footage was professionally shot, the possibility that she wasn't yet famous hadn't occurred to me—that would require Grossman (or someone, anyway) to have lucked into witnessing/documenting the birth of a massive global movement just based on Thunberg seeming potentially interesting - and that is what happened. Grossman gets extraordinary access here, providing a perspective that, among other things, radically recontextualized my own initial view of Thunberg, which was heavily informed by her New York "How dare you!" speech. While I'd heard about her previously, that was the first time I actually saw a news clip; "It's great that someone finally got openly furious about this," I remember reading people's reaction, which stated, "but she seems borderline unhinged." Turns out there's a massive difference between reading that a teenage girl chose to sail across the Atlantic for two weeks in order to reduce her carbon footprint and seeing the psychic toll inflicted by that ethical stance. Thunberg spends the voyage dictating what I assume are journal entries (or maybe they're messages to her mother), one of which is so intense that I felt it tugging at my memory and finally realized what it reminded me of: Heather's snot-nosed close-up at the end of Blair Witch. (Thunberg's even wearing more or less the same hat!) What she does is not at all easy for her, and part of this film's value is allowing you to see her get both angrier and blunter over time as people in power keep praising her courage and fortitude but take no action.

I Am Greta also serves, in a gratifyingly low-key way, as a portrait of someone on the autistic spectrum, demonstrating both the unique challenges they face and the unique advantages they possess. Thunberg herself speaks only to the latter, correcting a journalist who says that she "suffers from" Asperger syndrome and wishing aloud that more people would get monomaniacal about reducing emissions. But Grossman also captures intimate moments that suggest how difficult it must be to feel compelled into a spotlight that you'd generally shun. We see Thunberg, who's uninterested in small talk, meeting various world leaders and other celebrities, always being very polite but clearly having no idea what to say to them. We see her father struggle to make her eat something amid a hectic travel day. We see her get fixated on minor details and resist any help or advice, more or less whining Dad out of their hotel room. We see her unable to believe that other people at this climate conference are ordering hamburgers for lunch. Juxtaposed with these slightly awkward or anxious episodes are many, many beautiful shots of Thunberg in repose, often accompanied by her own thoughts in voiceover narration.

I believe Grossman kinda plays it safe, delivering a film that more or less resembles what the average American might expect (and what I certainly expected) from a Greta Thunberg documentary. He also ladles an obnoxious score all over everything and ends on a rah-rah note that makes I Am Greta retroactively feel more like simple hagiography + advocacy - I believe Greta Thunberg is not your typical environmentalist and is an inspiration to us all. When she was 15, she protested outside Sweden’s Parliament every day until the election and then continued to protest every Friday. People her age made fun of her because she had Asperger’s Syndrome, and now she is one of the most celebrated people in the world. However, she sees through the falseness that pervades the political world. She has been made promises by leaders, but after two years, she has seen that they have been lying to her. By the film's end, everything reached a boiling point, and Thunberg let loose on the liars. She sounds the alarm, and it’s very important that we all change our ways.

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

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Smitten - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader

Filming sex scenes wasn’t the easiest task. There are weird nude undergarments or socks or tape or sometimes just a nude co-star…With Tom, though? There were nerves and feelings and a deep down hope that he couldn’t tell that you were incredibly turned on as he mimed fucking you twelve ways to Sunday.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on today. Great work guys!” the director called.

Tom collapsed onto your chest, laughing as the tension left his body. “These never get easier.”

“I don’t know” you teased, playing with his hair as everyone left the set so you two could leave the bed with some of your dignity. “It’s a lot easier with you.”

Tom held himself up on his elbows. “Don’t tell me your past romantic co-stars have been less than gentlemanly.”

“Not all of them.” You shrugged. Being a ‘larger than the Hollywood standard’ actress had put you in some…not very flattering roles in the start of your career. Sure, now you were the romantic lead with a conventionally attractive male actor, but lets just say you’ve dealt with a lot to get here.

“Well, I hope you know you deserved better.” Tom kissed the back of one of your hands, rolling off of you.

“Coming from you, I may actually believe it.” You laughed, gathering the sheet around you as you left the bed, grabbed your robe, and started walking towards your trailer.

The two of you filmed the movie…Where you’d usually fall asleep in one of your two trailers watching other movies…

The two of you attended interviews…Where Tom would almost always defer to you and even stuck up for you when a few interviewers were borderline sexist or would comment on your appearance…

The two of you even walked a few red carpets together…Tom’s hand always placed at your middle or on your hip or in one of your hands...

He invited you out to eat with him before or after any shindig the two of you went to…

He’d walk you to your hotel rooms with kisses left on your cheeks…

He’d even tried to convince you to spend the week before the premiere in London with him…

In your mind, Tom was just too nice. He was nice to everybody. It all seemed very friendly…Until…

You hadn’t been watching the interviews as they’d been posted. Some interviews you did together with Tom and others you’d been split up and put with other actors from the movie.

Your phone pinged…

*best friend* - HAVE YOU SEEN TOM ON FALLON?!?

Before you could reply, your phone started blowing up.

You scrolled through the texts until you saw Tom’s

Tom – Darling, I hope you know how much you mean to me. Regardless of what your answer is, I’d never want to lose your friendship. It’s not every day you get to work with one so incredibly kind and thoughtful and talented and beautiful and…every moment I’ve spent with you has been a privilege. Please put me out of my misery and let me know you’ll at least let me see you again.

“What the fuck?” you asked yourself, opening your laptop and googling “Tom Hiddleston and Jimmy Fallon”

You saw that the Fallon YouTube channel had just posted Tom’s segment of tonight’s episode…

“How are you doing, buddy?” Fallon asked, pulling Tom into a tight hug.

“I’m doing incredibly well at the moment, actually.” Tom answered, sharing that the movie you two had filmed together had done extremely well on its opening weekend just a few days earlier.

“I know! It was amazing. I’ve seen it twice!” Fallon replied, always enthusiastic.

“I’m so glad you liked it. Y/n is incredible, right?” Tom turned to the audience, loving that they cheered when he brought you up.

“Oh my god, you two are so good together. I kind of thought maybe you two were…you know…” Fallon waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tom threw his head back laughing, fidgeting with his tie and avoiding looking into the audience.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you two don’t have SOME sort of real chemistry. I saw the movie.” Fallon gave Tom a look like *Don’t lie*

“Well, perhaps we’re just incredible actors and you’re simply complimenting our craft.” Tom shrugged, trying to look anywhere but at Jimmy.

“Well, yes. The acting in the movie is amazing, but I don’t think that accounts for this.” Jimmy turned and pointed to the screen. It was a series of clips pulled from Tom’s interviews where all he did was gush about you.

“I missed being home, but it’s hard for anyone to stay upset when they’re around Y/n. She just lifts the mood in any room she’s in. You could say she makes anywhere feel a bit like home.” Tom had answered when a woman asked him if it was hard being on site away from home for 5 months.

When another interviewer asked Tom what his favorite line in the movie was, he answered, quoting one of your lines. “When she delivered it for the first time, it kind of took my breath away. I felt very unprofessional. I had to apologize and ask to start over. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say next. She tends to have that effect on me.” Tom laughed, a slight blush on his cheeks.

The final clip was one of an interviewer simply asking Tom how his day had gone. “I feel all out of sorts, if I’m being honest. Y/n isn’t here today because she woke up not feeling the best and with Covid still being an issue, she didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick.” Tom answered with a sad smile on his face. When the interviewer shared that they hoped you would be okay and feel better soon, Tom answered with “I’ll make sure to pass on your sentiments when I bring her food later on.”

“COME ON!” Fallon laughed, throwing his arms up.

“I know, I know. I’m not very good at hiding how I feel, I guess.” Tom admitted, leaning back against the couch and laying his arm across the top. The crowd went wild.

“So, you admit it! Are you two together?!” Fallon asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Unfortunately, not.” Tom answered, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Why?!” Jimmy asked. “You’re clearly smitten!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Tom rebutted, looking to the audience for support. “I’ve tried!”

“Aww, now I feel bad for bringing it up.” Fallon chuckled and looked at the audience as they collectively ‘aww’ed. “How could anyone turn down this?!” He gestured towards Tom as the audience cheered.

“Well, if I’m to be completely honest I guess I haven’t actually TOLD her how I feel.” Tom confessed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Jimmy paused.

“Well, I thought she’d catch on. I assume she has.” Tom laughed, fidgeting in his seat. “I’m pretty sure everyone else that knows the two of us can tell I’ve fallen completely head over heels for her.”

“Tom, Tom, Tom.” Jimmy shook his head.

“What?” Tom asked, nervous about what the answer would be.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you may just be horrible at flirting.” Fallon said with a straight face, the audience busting up laughing after.

“Do you think?” Tom replied, eyes gone wide in exaggerated surprise.

“I mean, I think you’re just so nice.” Jimmy laughed, trying to stay serious…“that everyone thinks you’re flirting with them…Which means, when you’re trying to flirt it just blends in.”

“Well, how would you suggest I stand out then?” Tom asked, putting his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin on his fist like he was really paying attention.

“I mean…” Fallon slowly pointed towards the camera. “You gotta shoot your shot, right?”

The audience went wild at the suggestion. “Oh, dear.”

“I can scrap this and we can just talk about the movie.” Jimmy offered, making sure Tom knew that none of this had to go on the air.

“I mean, if it’s truly that obvious to everyone what have I got to lose, right?” Tom answered.

“That’s what we like to hear!” Jimmy cheered with the audience.

“Well…Y/n.” Tom paused, a soft smile on his face. “I don’t quite know where to start. I feel as though I may have been remiss by not just telling you how I feel. The consequence of such is that now I’m doing it in front of all of these people *gestures to the audience*…and I’m sure you’re laughing at how red I’ve gone and how flustered I am so I’m going to get to the point. Darling, you’re an incredible woman. I could list a million reasons why, but hopefully later you’ll give me the time to tell you them in person. What I really want to tell you now is that you make me happy. You inspire me. You make me want to be the best version of myself and you even make me believe I can achieve it. I’d be honored if you’d give me a chance.”

Fallon had tears in his eyes and most of the audience did, as well. “I…That was so beautiful. I think we need to go to a commercial break.” He was all choked up and stood to give Tom a hug.

You pulled up Tom’s text, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Are you still in New York?” you text him. The two of you were there for interviews. You were even staying in the same hotel.

“I am.” He text back, but the ‘typing’ bubble stayed. “Did you watch it?”

“I did.” You answered. “Come over?”

You saw the ‘typing’ bubble pop up and then disappear a few times. Instead of a text, you heard a knock at your hotel door.

“So?” Tom asked when you opened the door. He looked nervous, a look you didn’t often see from him. He had his glasses on and his hair was an adorable mess. He was even already dressed in his night clothes.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward and placed your hands on each side of his face, pulling his lips gently to yours. He quickly reciprocated, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards into your hotel room.

“And to think, I could have been doing that for a whole year already.” You teased him, connecting your lips again.

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” Tom answered, pressing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. His lips paused at the shell of your ear and his voice dropped. “It just means we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#Tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #curvy #loki

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capseycartwright · 3 years

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your love takes me there, this I swear

buck loves just about everything about eddie - but he especially loves his hands.

or, musings on how buck fell in love with eddie because of his hands. inspired by this gifset of eddies hands and my utter lack of self-control!

ao3 link

Buck loves just about everything about Eddie. Really - the list of things he loves about Eddie is long, and possibly embarrassing, and ranges from the perfectly mundane like Eddie’s smile, to the downright cringey, like how much he likes the tiny, adorable snuffling noises Eddie makes when he’s sleeping on his side.

Buck loves everything about Eddie -

But he especially loves his hands.

Buck’s not entirely sure when he first noticed Eddie’s hands, but he thinks it was probably fairly early on in their friendship. It sort of came with the territory, noticing hands - hands that worked to save someone's life on a medical call, hands that fought fires. Buck probably noticed fairly early on, because he had to watch Eddie work, and how could he not notice that Eddie had quick, clever hands - hands that had clearly seen plenty of medical emergencies before and knew how to work quickly and effectively? He admired it - even underneath all his initial assholerely, Buck admired it. Eddie was a clever guy, and good at his job, and he’d been a threat, in the beginning, and then he’d quickly become Buck’s best friend in the entire world.

Eddie’s hands were focused, and clever, at work - they had been from day one. Buck, to this day, liked to sit back and admire Eddie’s hands when he could. Eddie’s hands were clever, and they were strong. Every day of his life, when Buck put his uniform on and started work, he put his life in Eddie’s hands, and Eddie had never given him a reason to question the unwavering faith Buck had felt from the moment they’d worked to save that man’s life in the ambulance. Eddie’s hands were the hands that Buck trusted to double-check his harness, when he was going to do a rope rescue - it was a job Buck had never really even trusted Bobby to do, always doing a third check when someone else had checked him over, just to be sure - but Buck trusted Eddie to do it. The routine was familiar, now - Buck would harness up, and Eddie would double-check every clip, every knot, tugging and tightening with a practiced ease and familiarity.

Eddie’s hands were the ones who would operate the winch, when Buck was doing a rope rescue. Buck always felt safe, knowing Eddie’s hands were the ones that were holding onto his rope, that Eddie’s hands were the ones his life was in. Eddie’s hands were the safest place Buck had ever known. Eddie’s hands were the ones he felt on his shoulder, during a fire, reassuring him that Buck wasn’t alone. Eddie’s hands worked alongside his, to wrangle hoses and pull victims out of fires. They were hands Buck knew as well as his own - hands that felt like an extension of his own, while they worked.

He noticed the way Eddie’s hands worked, first - and then he noticed how Eddie handled Christopher. Buck was probably biased, yes, but he firmly believed Eddie was the best father in the entire world. Eddie - he never babied Christopher, never made his son feel less than, he was never cold with Chris, never denied his son anything. The first time Buck met Christopher, he’d driven Eddie to Christopher’s school, and he’d watched as the hands that had saved lives in the aftermath of the earthquake had lifted his son into a relieved hug with a gentleness Buck hadn’t seen from the older man, until then.

Eddie’s hands were always gentle, and loving, with Christopher. Over the years, Buck had watched as Eddie’s hands had ruffled Christopher’s hair, hands that had helped Christopher with his crutches, hands that had supported and loved the little boy in all the ways Buck had never experienced in his life. He thinks - in hindsight - watching Eddie with Christopher only ever helped Buck fall completely in love with Eddie. Eddie was soft, and kind, and gentle, and patient with his son - even when Christopher was throwing the kind of epic tantrum Buck wasn’t sure he’d know how to handle, Eddie would simply give his son a firm look, and with gentle hands, direct him to the couch and explain that they needed to talk about their feelings - not shout about them.

How could Buck not fall in love with the hands that tucked Christopher into bed every night, hands that put Christopher’s glasses aside when Christopher fell asleep while they were reading - hands that easily lifted Chris from the couch and into bed, after movie night, hands that were raising the best kid Buck knew. Eddie didn’t give himself enough credit, if you asked Buck - because he was the greatest example of fatherhood Buck had ever seen, and he got to see it every single day. Buck felt like he learned from it - learned how to be a role model, putting Eddie’s parenting into practice as Jee-Yun got older and Buck’s role in her life felt infinitely more important than ever.

Buck noticed the way Eddie’s hands worked, first - and the way they loved Christopher, second.

The way Eddie’s hands loved him was the greatest revelation of Buck’s life. Looking back - Eddie’s hands had been telling Eddie’s secrets for years, long before Eddie himself had ever confessed his feelings for Buck. Buck remembered the first time they hugged - really hugged, and not the slap on the back, bro-style hugs that had dominated the first few months of their friendship.

No, their first real hug had been after the bombing - Buck didn’t like to think about those few months, all that much, and he liked to think about the time he spent in the hospital even less, but there was a moment that he liked to think about. Buck had been alone - which was rare, given the shifts the 118 and his family took to keep him company as he recovered - and Eddie had come, late, after a shift, and he’d found Buck crying. Buck had been too tired and emotionally wrung out to be embarrassed, and Eddie had simply wiped away his tears with those magnificent, healing hands, and he’d hugged Buck close, as though he could squeeze him hard enough and put all the broken pieces of Evan Buckley back together and from that moment Buck was sure the only place he could truly be happy was when he was being held in Eddie’s hands.

Eddie’s hands had told the story of his feelings long before Eddie had said the words out loud - hands that offered Buck coffee, on his bad mornings. Hands that took Buck’s keys from him, on the days he was too tired to drive, hands that bundled Buck into the passenger seat of Eddie’s car. Hands that lingered and hands that held Buck close and hands that loved and said so much long before either of them had found the words for what had started burning between them so many years previously.

Buck remembered the moment it had all been set alight - and you’d have to forgive the ironic metaphor, for a firefighter, but he wasn’t sure there was any other way to describe how it felt to finally love Eddie loudly and freely - it was as though his body had been set alight with it all and Buck had been so fucking happy to burn because it was Eddie, and maybe that wasn’t all that eloquent but Buck would walk through fire every day of his life if it meant he got to have five minutes at the end of every day with Eddie - he was just lucky that he got Eddie for so much more than 5 minutes, he got to have Eddie all the time.

Eddie had kissed him first. Buck would always remember the moment - the way their argument seemed to stop, right in the middle, because suddenly, you could cut the tension between them with a knife and something shifted and changed and Eddie was cupping Buck’s face in those beautiful hands of his and he was kissing Buck like he was worth something and pleading with Buck to understand that regardless of anyone else - Eddie couldn’t live without him.

Buck loved being loved by Eddie’s hands. Over the years, it felt like Eddie’s hands had mapped every single inch of Buck’s body - Eddie’s magical, magnificent hands knew exactly where to touch, where to tickle, where to hold. God - Buck would never get over how it felt to be held by Eddie. Eddie had big hands - and the multitude of entirely not PG fun that brought about aside - Eddie’s hands were big enough to make Buck feel held. Eddie’s hands felt like they spanned the entire expanse of Buck’s ribcage, familiar and grounding when it felt like Buck’s lungs were being crushed with the weight of the anxiety that felt like it was never going to let him be, even after years of therapy and talking and recovery. Even then, Eddie’s hands were steadying, keeping Buck above water.

Buck loved to hold Eddie’s hand. Eddie’s hands - just like the rest of Eddie - were warm, warm and calming and familiar and Buck took every opportunity he could to link his fingers with Eddie’s - across the centre console of the car, in the grocery store, sitting on the couch watching TV after Christopher had gone to bed.

Buck could write a novel, about the way Eddie’s hands felt - calloused, and a little rough, the result of a life spent working manual jobs that required those helpful, healing hands of Eddie’s. They were still soft, though - soft, and warm, and familiar, and the greatest comfort Buck had ever known, whether that comfort was in a ridiculous haunted house Chimney had forced them to go to (it was, in Buck’s defence, actually terrifying, and he’d been justified in holding onto Eddie’s hand with a death grip), or whether that comfort was the steadying presence of Eddie by his side as his doctor had quietly admitted Buck’s yearly scan of his leg had shown a strange abnormality. Hands that had held Buck close as he panicked, and cried, hands that had shared in Buck’s joy as everything had turned out to be just fine.

Hands that had shaken, as he’d proposed to Buck. They’d talked about marriage, in that vague, far off, maybe one day sense - and if Buck was being honest, he wouldn’t have minded if they had never gotten married. What they had, the love he and Eddie shared, was too big to be described only by marriage and a ring - but Buck couldn’t deny the thrill that had gone down his spine as Eddie had gotten down on one knee and produced a ring with shaking hands and asked Buck to make it official.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Buck hummed happily, leaning back against Eddie as his husband slotted himself behind Buck on the couch on their hotel balcony, bracketing Buck’s hips with his knees. “Just thinking,” he said, marking his place in his book, twisting a little so he could look at Eddie. The four days of glorious, uninterrupted sunshine had done wonders for Eddie, a healthy glow to his skin that could only be the result of a slow, lazy, ‘we’re not doing a single adventurous or touristy thing’ kind of honeymoon.

“About good things?” Eddie asked, those glorious hands of his threading through Buck’s hair, familiar as they tugged at his salt-water matted curls.

“About you,” Buck admitted, twisting his fingers with Eddie’s, taking a second to admire the bright platinum wedding band that sat there - a wedding band Buck had put there only a few short days ago. It was simple, plain and thin to anyone who might give it a passing glance - and engraved on the inside, decorated with words that would only ever go a fraction of the way of explaining the love that Buck felt for Eddie - love that consumed him in the best and brightest and most welcome ways.

“I’m right here,” Eddie reminded, as though Buck could forget that he was on a blissful, week-long honeymoon with his husband in a very fancy, very quiet, five-star hotel. It had taken them a long time to get to where they were - and so they had decided they were going to savour every single second of their first week of marriage.

“I know,” Buck reassured, pressing a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “I was just reminding myself of how much I love you.”

Eddie’s smile was the most glorious thing Buck had ever seen - forget art, and music, and ancient cities full of history. No, Eddie Diaz’s smile was one of the greatest wonders of Buck’s world. “I love you too,” Eddie reassured, his other hand coming to rest on Buck’s chest, right where his heart was, and a part of Buck wanted to scream it in time with the thrum of his own heartbeat, to try and make Eddie understand what Buck still felt like he didn’t have the words for - it’s yours, it’s yours, it belongs to you.

Buck loved Eddie’s hands - hands that healed, and helped, hands that had given Buck hope, hands that loved.

Hands he was going to get to hold onto forever.

#911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #in which i ramble #in which lorna writes fic #its just 2k about eddies hands don't @ me i know i have a problem

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multimilfs · 3 years

Text

Zelda Spellman x Fem!Reader x Lilith: Complexities of a Witch

Summary: thewriting-dragon requested “Zelda X Reader X Lilith: Two sassy badass magical milfs and their soft gf who would kill multiple men to see her strong girlfriends just have a moment's peace because they deserve it.”

A/N: Okay nobody fillet me if certain details for s3 are off. I don’t remember them entirely so I’m going off of the little information I remembered and some youtube clips. That aside, I hope you all enjoy!!

Tag List: @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix @angel7376

Warning(s): Minor Violence

You could swear that your hair was turning grey. With each passing day, the stress piled on, until you were positive that strands of your hair were turning color. It left you stunned and confused. Zelda had almost a hundred years on you and her hair was perfectly normal. And she dealt with more stress everyday than an entire town would.

“Zelda,” You whined, coming out of the bathroom, “I’m greying.”

Looking up from her book, she scoffed at the dramatics. She marked her place with a finger. Her eyes scanned you from head to toe, narrowed in concentration.

“You most certainly are not,” She finally declared, “I don’t see a single grey hair on your head.”

“Well, you’re missing it, Zee. All of you are stressing me to the point of madness and my hair is starting to reflect it.”

“Oh, hush. Come here.”

You trudged over to her side of the bed, perching next to her as she looked over your strands closely. Her nails lightly scratched at certain areas of your scalp during her examination. Finally, she leant away from you and shook her head.

“One grey strand, Y/N. You’re raising heaven over a single strand?” Zelda rolled her eyes.

“One strand leads to more! Before you know it, I’ll have a head of them.”

“Oh, Y/N, do be reasonable.”

“I am! How have you not gone grey? Sabrina puts you through so much.”

“Oh that’s easy, I stopped caring ages ago.” Zelda said easily, leaning back against the pillows.

You knew as well as she did that it was a lie. She loved Sabrina to a fault, constantly putting up with her antics. You all did. But it seemed she had no intention of continuing the line of conversation. So you resorted to a sure way to get answers; teasing Zelda until she gave up the truth.

“Are you sure that you’re not dyeing your hair and hiding it from us?” You asked innocently, trying to hide your mischievous grin behind a hand.

Zelda sputtered indignantly, attempting to form words, but failing to do so. You couldn’t hold back your laugh at her reaction. She frowned, recognizing your teasing and obviously not feeling very keen on it.

“What have you done to inspire such a frown?” A warm, curious voice said from behind the two of you.

Not aware of another presence in the room, you nearly fell off of the bed in surprise. You leveled a glare at Lilith as she leant against the door. Her look was far too smug for your liking.

“See?” You said, looking at Zelda, “The antics of this family will turn my hair in a week!”

“Lilith, tell her that she’s being entirely too dramatic about this.” Zelda requested.

“I’ll do no such thing,” Lilith responded, clearly enjoying herself, “Even I would struggle to maintain the natural hair color of this body if I were in her position.”

A long, hard stare was aimed at the demoness. She was completely unfazed by it, having become used to far worse looks in Hell. You just grinned triumphantly at Zelda for a few moments. It was very rare that Lilith took your side in matters like these. Zelda and Lilith tended to be of like mind, especially when it would grate on your nerves.

Rather than respond to any of the teasing, Zelda turned onto her side, facing away from the two of you with a huff. You laughed silently, shaking the bed with the effort to keep it contained.

“Aw, Zee, I’m sorry.” You tried, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“You certainly are not.”

“Oh but I am, aren’t I, Lilith?”

“Yes, very sorry.” She agreed, though without enough emotion to seem sincere.

“Go to bed, both of you.” Zelda demanded, turning over for just a moment to press a kiss to your lips and glare in Lilith’s direction, before turning the lights off with a snap.

Through the darkness, you heard Lilith scoff at the other witch’s behavior. Though part of you expected her to stay awake in protest, the bed soon dipped with her weight. Her arms wrapped around you and you allowed yourself to fall asleep just like that.

----

When you woke up, there was a dreadful absence on both of your sides. Though the blankets were piled on top of you, the chill in the air wormed its way past them. You shook without either of your lovers to keep you warm.

Reaching out blindly, you searched for them with closed eyes. Lilith often took to reading before you woke, perching herself on the bench at the foot of the bed. If stretched fully then you could typically poke her in the back. Nothing met your reach.

You grumbled miserably. If neither witch was in the room, it meant they’d already convened for breakfast. Likely, you had slept longer than intended, and would be sure to hear about it.

Dreading the inevitable teasings and musings of Zelda, you trudged from bed and down the stairs. But no noise followed your descent from the last step. There was no light chatter or laughter from the kitchen. The comforting babbling of the pots and shrieking of the kettle, nowhere to be found.

“Hilda? Zelda, Lilith?” You called, walking into the kitchen.

The area that was so typically warm and busy, was now completely empty. Cold light seeped in through the drawn curtains. A chill went down your spin as you spun around, looking in every part of the room for someone of the Spellman family.

“Sabrina… Ambrose?” You tried helplessly.

No luck.

Timidly, you stepped further into the room. Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in the cobwebs clinging to the chandelier; cobwebs you were positive hadn’t been there previously. Tracing over the table led to a collection of dust on the end of your finger. Everything felt hopelessly, terribly confusing.

A sudden crash to your right put you on high alert, throwing your hands up just in time. But it wasn’t a wild animal or enemy looking back at you, frozen in space. It was Ambrose.

“Ambrose!” You exclaimed, dropping your magical hold to throw your arms around him, “I am so glad to see you.”

“As am I, Auntie, but we can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

You reeled away from him, confused at his words. What could be safer than your own home? The one you’d all been part of for so long? Zelda had to be around somewhere, she’d never abandon the mortuary. It wasn’t her style.

“Ambrose, you’re talking nonsense. Now where are Zelda and Lilith? I’m sure we can handle whatever Sabrina has cooked up as a family.”

“You don’t understand,” Ambrose said in a severe whisper, “Nowhere is safe. Not even Hell.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t hard to throw off the balance of this plane, but it was unheard of for the infernal plane to be affected. And if Hell was dangerous then that meant…

“Where is everyone, Ambrose?” You whispered, fearing the answer, “Where is Zelda? Lilith? Your Aunt Hilda would never let the house become so tattered… are they…”

“You really don’t know what’s going on?” He asked.

“If I knew what was going on I wouldn’t be asking you.”

“They all… I mean, well... The pagans brought the reckoning and very few survived.”

“No,” You shook your head, backing away, “They can’t be gone. Not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie.”

He placed a hand on your arm, squeezing gently. You felt like his words had gutted you and left you hollow. Despite the fine layers of dust and cobwebs, the memories of the house still felt alive around you.

The smell of Zelda’s cigarette smoke lingered on everything. You could practically see her there, newspaper in hand, smoke billowing from behind it. Lilith’s voice rang in your ears, heckling Zelda about something miniscule. It was always like that. Warm, teasing, and comfortable. You would hide a laugh, but Zelda knew you too well.

Your family lingered in every corner.

Another squeeze on your arm brought you back to the present, looking directly at Ambrose. His eyes were full of the sadness that you felt. But his held more reserve, more… acceptance. This was new to you, though it wasn’t to him.

You refused to let yourself cry. Neither Zelda or Lilith would have wanted it, they cared for action. In your heart you knew that all you could do was work with the tools you had. Magic, heart, and Ambrose.

“Alright, now fill me in on these Pagans.” You said.

And fill you in he did. Though nothing could explain how the time had moved without you, how you ended up in the middle without even knowing it. Fortunately, just as the two of you hit a dead end, Sabrina appeared out of nowhere.

The details were fuzzy and you were running on a lot of hope, but you had faith in Sabrina. If not, at least she had her misplaced confidence. You’d go out fighting.

Sabrina was to shift things around in time, to bring back your loved ones. You stood by Zelda’s skeleton in the Mortuary’s basement, hoping that any second she’d become real, as Sabrina united the past, present, and future once more.

You felt the change, but nothing happened next to you. The hope in your heart was slowly waning. It was hard to hold back the emotions, but it seemed not to matter at all, as a rustling next to you became apparent.

Sitting up on the table was Zelda, looking confused and extremely annoyed. Ambrose explained that she’d been shot at the front door. You wanted to make the person pay, but right now you were entirely too happy to see Zelda to care.

“Zelda,” You breathed out, making her look to you, before wrapping your arms around her, “You’re okay.”

“Of course I am. I couldn’t leave you to deal with Sabrina alone, now could I?” She asked.

Her voice was hauty, but you knew she was joking by the sweet tone in her voice. The gentleness you heard only in special moments.

“Speaking of Sabrina, we’re meeting her near the Cain pit. You missed a lot while you were… sleeping.”

You could see that she detested waiting for any answers, but grudgingly let you pull her out to the Cain pit, where a large group of witches were waiting. It was then that she realized why she hadn’t been buried in it. Hilda was still laying in it and had been for far too long.

Her grip tightened on your hand and you squeezed back. You’d spent the last day mourning your entire family, but Hilda had been with Zelda since they were children. The pain there was likely unimaginable.

But you all joined hands, amplifying Zelda’s wishes. Her screams to the sky, calling on Hecate. The pain in her voice rang through you like a shot. If you weren’t present, forming a circle with your sister witches, you could’ve sworn you had been shot. The pain certainly felt similar.

Waiting with bated breath, Zelda called out after her chanting. One hand placed on the dirt of the Cain pit.

“Hildy?” She said brokenly.

Then, to everyone’s relief, a hand broke through the dirt. Zelda grabbed it eagerly. You could feel the tension leave everyone’s body. It made you especially grateful to release their hands.

You watched joyfully as Hilda clawed her way out of the dirt, crouching to help her. The dirt caked under your nails didn’t bother you like it normally would. It was a small price to pay.

After that, the plan was laid out. By Sabrina, no less. All of the witches were in agreement on how the Pagans would be dealt with. With swift, painful justice. It would be far too dangerous to let them live any longer. They would just work their way back into this same situation. The plan would take place as they sacrificed the virgin of their choosing to the Green Man.

There was enough time for everyone to disband and prepare, or rest, in your case. But you couldn’t bear to rest now. You had your entire family back, minus one key person. Lilith. Little was known about what had happened in Hell, or maybe Ambrose wouldn’t tell you much.

You just knew that your heart was aching, longing for the other woman you so deeply loved. A fire, long put out, was burning in your gut. It threatened to overwhelm you. Instead, you vowed to save it for the Pagans.

You would get your life back, no matter what it took.

----

The plan had worked perfectly. Sabrina had gone disguised as Robin, Pesta disguised as Ms. Wardwell. Now the Pagans were fleeing. But the big three, the so called ‘Gods’, were frantically packing their things.

Hilda went after Circe, Harvey and Roz went after the gorgon, and that left Pan to you. While the rest of your coven chased the younger Pagans, you elected to confront Pan head-on. Alone. While he loaded his truck, out in the open, you walked up. You did your best to keep your anger at bay when he set his eyes on you.

“What can I do for you, witch?” He snarled.

“You’ve taken something very important from me. I want it back.” You said casually.

The laugh that left his mouth was cold, empty of any humor whatsoever. You wanted to scream, to rip him limb from limb over what he’d done to your family. Your coven. The pain all of them had endured because of them.

“Not likely. I don’t offer kindness to the whores of Satan.”

“You don’t offer kindness to anyone, false God.” You hissed.

His hackles raised then, offended beyond what words could say. Stepping away from his vehicle, he sneered at you, disdain clear in his eyes. Stretching his arms out to either side revealed his true nature beneath the illusion. The true Pan.

“Your Satan is the false God, but I am real, for I am the great God Pan. And my gaze is madness incarnate…” He proclaimed in a haughty tone.

Your clapping stunned him. It was slow and deliberate, fake and insulting. You held no fear as you walked right up to him and stared directly into his eyes.

“I’ve consumed madness before,” You said, a twisted smile spreading on your lips as he stepped back, “And I kept returning for more.”

With a snap of your fingers, the shimmer illusion around him dropped. The one barrier between you and his true form. Your eyes never dropped from his. He attempted to step away from you, but you wouldn’t have it. Then you swung your arm viciously.

“This is for Zelda,” You whispered after burying a blade in his chest, before pulling it out and burying it in his neck, “And that is for Lilith.”

He crumpled to the ground in front of you. As you stood over him, you stared at the wounds you made. Part of you wished that you’d taken more time to make him suffer. But what’s done is done, you can't turn back time.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Turning, your eyes landed on Lilith and Zelda. It was Lilith who’d spoken, leaning against a tree, her smirk visible even from where you were standing. Your heart jumped in your chest at seeing her alive and well.

“You’re… You’re back.” You said happily, tears in your eyes.

“Of course I am. Now, are you going to give me a proper welcome or not?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

You wasted no time in moving to her and throwing yourself into her arms. At first, you did your best to be mindful of where your hands were. Pan’s blood was all over them and you didn’t want to stain her dress, but she didn’t seem to mind as she took your hands into her’s.

She pulled you into a searing kiss. All your thoughts of revenge faded into nothingness as your lips met hers. Personally, you’d never felt Hellfire, but you would bet that it had nothing on her kiss.

Zelda scoffed from beside the two of you. Without looking at her, you knew without a doubt that her eyes were rolling. It was her trademark at this point.

With no small amount of effort, you pulled away from Lilith’s kiss, extending a hand to Zelda. Letting her annoyance wane for a moment, she took it and kissed you just as aggressively as Lilith had. Though where Zelda had rolled her eyes, Lilith was now watching with dark eyes.

It would have been easy to let the touches descend into something sinfully fun, but that wasn’t what you felt. You were so relieved to have your lovers back safe. Overwhelmingly, you felt nothing but your intense love in this moment.

“Let’s go home.” You whispered after pulling away, happily dragging both witches back to your safe haven.

----

“Look at this,” You urged Zelda over to your side, pointing to your hair, “Right here.”

“You’re calmer about this one, I see.” She said.

“I think I… appreciate them now, more than I hate them.”

“Is that so?”

“I wouldn’t have them if I didn’t care. So I consider it good that I care so much about my family, even if it gives me grey hair.” You admitted, avoiding her eyes as your cheeks burned red.

Zelda was quiet for a few moments and you wondered if you left her speechless for once. But rather than say anything, she placed a sweet kiss upon your lips. Her thumb rubbed over your cheekbone affectionately.

“Having so much love is a remarkable gift.” Zelda murmured, punctuating the statement with another kiss.

You leaned into the rare moment of open, sappy affection. It was nice to spend time like this, reveling in the love of your family. To know how loved you were.

“I walked into a sap fest, I see,” Lilith’s voice came from the doorway, “Hard to believe I’m looking at the same witch who slaughtered a God two days ago.”

She was nursing a glass in her hand, taking a sip as her humorous eyes glanced over the rim. You gave a small laugh. Though she'll tease you endlessly about your ways, she did envy how open you could be with all of it. Love, care, honesty. It’d been completely foreign to her for so long.

“What can I say, sweetheart? I’m just complex like that.”

#zelda spellman #lilith #madam satan #zelda x lilith x reader #madamspellman x reader #caos #caos imagine #chilling adventures of sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina imagine #caos x reader #wlw #wlw imagine #mar2021 #multimilfswritings

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Rhythm in Kind

A Nobunaga Oda fanfic, approx. 2700 words of fluffiness, featuring a bellydancing MC. Inspired by a conversation with @scruffymctee ^_^

It was mid-afternoon and Nobunaga was having trouble focusing. He’d taken Hideyoshi for a walk around the castle to calm his restless spirit.

Hideyoshi was trying to engage him in a discussion on current patrols. He was doing his best to keep the conversation alive, despite getting only the occasional nod or grunt in response. His voice fell into rhythm with his footsteps as they walked Azuchi castle.

Nobunaga let the words wash over him as his mind wandered. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted, but for the last several weeks his mind was not on his goals. His thoughts insisted on drifting toward the odd, brazen woman that saved his life. She was beautiful. Unpredictable. And breath-takingly honest.

“My lord?” Hideyoshi was frowning at him.

“Yes?” There was no way he would admit he’d missed the question entirely. He stopped and turned to face Hideyoshi. This turned out to be a mistake.

The door behind Hideyoshi was open to the room beyond it. Warm sunlight spilled through the windows, bathing the room’s sole occupant in a golden glow. It was her - the girl that claimed she was from the future. And she was . . .

Hideyoshi turned to see what caught his lord’s eye. He let out a strangled sound as if his breath couldn’t decide whether to move in or out. His mouth hung open and his body froze in place.

Nobunaga barely noticed his friend. His attention was eaten entire by the girl. His little fireball. She’d tied her kimono strangely, the obi sitting at her hip with a large bow at the side. Her arms were held at a low angle, eyes closed, and her hips were moving, up - down, a shiver, then her chest rose and a serpentine wave rolled down her belly.

The girl didn’t notice them. She was humming something, a strange melody. And she was moving to it, flowing across the room with delicate steps.

This was some sort of magic. Nobunaga was certain of that. A human body - even a woman’s - didn’t move like that. Flowing, graceful, with little staccato gestures layered atop the sinuous motions. It lit a fire in him, one that spread from his chest to his loins. A heat more intense than the fires of Honno-ji had been the night he almost died.

“She . . . is . . . possessed,” Hideyoshi stuttered. His face was bright red.

Quite suddenly, Nobunaga didn’t want his friend there. Didn’t want him to see the girl. To be . . . affected by her. He wanted this for himself. His desire grew in leaps and bounds.

Her legs flashed through the gap in her kimono. Thigh and calf tense as she rose and then with languorous sensuality, rolled her hips.

“You may go.” Nobunaga dismissed Hideyoshi.

“My lord, you can’t be alone with -”

“Go!”

Nobunaga’s raised voice broke the moment. The girl’s eyes flew open and her cheeks flushed a deep red. “Y-you!” She sounded half angry, half distressed. “You spied on me!”

Hideyoshi looked at his lord for a heartbeat. His body was tense as a bowstring, jaw set in firm, harsh lines. He was wise enough not to say anything as he turned on his heel and left.

Nobunaga waited for his steps to fade. His eyes were on the girl as if there was nothing else in this world to see. In that moment, there wasn’t.

She stood there, back straight, fists balled at her hips. Staring defiance at him despite her embarrassment. There was so much fire in her. Was it any wonder, Nobunaga thought, that he felt the heat?

“Why are you staring at me? What do you want?” She made the words an attack. Clipped and short.

He entered the room, slid the door shut behind him.

“I already finished my work today!”

Nobunaga smiled.

“Are you going to say something or just creep on me?”

“Please. Continue.” He gestured toward her.

Her cheeks went an even deeper shade of red. “I - No! I can’t . . . not with you - you watching!” She crossed her arms.

“You would deny me?” Nobunaga raised one eyebrow. There were few people willing to say no to him in Azuchi. Fewer that were women. Perhaps, just this one. “Most would be pleased with my regard.”

“I am not most.” If she could have struck him dead with a look, he’d have died in that moment.

Nobunaga nodded. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. She waited to see if he would back down and he wanted to see if she would give in. Finally, she sighed.

“Look. I don’t dance in front of people, ok? This is just . . . something I enjoy. For myself. I’m not some kind of professional. I can’t entertain you.”

He considered her words. Did she think he saw her as a performer? How interesting. And that was a dance of some kind. “I have never seen dance like that. What is it called? How did you come to learn it?”

His questions seemed to please her. Some of the tension bled from her shoulders. “It’s called bellydance. Though-” she laughed, “there are a lot of different kinds of dance that people call bellydancing so this is just my version.”

“And how did you come to learn it? Is it very common in Japan?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I have a dear friend that bellydances. She is much better than I am at it. She taught me some. Some I just . . . try to copy what the girls in the videos do. I’d show you what real bellydancing looks like if my phone worked here.”

“I only want to see you dance.” Nobunaga’s lips twitched up in a small smile. “I do not know this kind of dance, but I think you are very good. You should be proud of yourself.”

Something in her gaze softened at his praise. A crack in her fiery armor. “I - no, you only say that because you haven’t seen anyone else.”

“I say it because you are beautiful and talented. Now. Will you dance for me?”

He could see she was thinking it over. Reluctance warred with something else in her expression - an emotion he couldn’t pin down. Nobunaga wanted to take her by the chin and run his thumb down the line of her jaw. To meet her gaze and pierce the wall she’d put up between them since that first night at Honno-ji.

“If - and only if! I agree to dance for you, I’d have some . . . requirements.”

Nobunaga gestured for her to continue.

“I need some music to dance to. And noone else can watch. I don’t want an audience. People here already look at me strangely. And it can only be one time. Just once. I don’t want to have to dance for you whenever.” She gave him a meaningful stare.

“Done.” He didn’t want to agree to that last requirement, but perhaps she could be persuaded to change her mind later. Nobunaga was a very persuasive man.

She watched him with some suspicion but agreed to perform for him. After some discussion, they set the date for three nights hence. They would meet in his tenshu. The musicians would meet with her ahead of time so she could explain what she needed - a process she was clearly nervous about.She insisted she was no musician herself, but that she could hum the melody and give them the beat - if this was enough. Nobunaga was certain it would be. After some debate, she was satisfied - or at least, less nervous.

Then she left and Nobunaga set about planning. Azuchi had several accomplished musicians. Players of fue, drum, and koto. Even his warlords could play, as music was an important part of their education. Nobunaga just had to find a musician he wouldn’t mind sharing his little fireball with while she danced . . .

The day of the performance arrived and Nobunaga still hadn’t decided on a musician. The idea of anyone else seeing her dance displeased him. That beauty was for his eyes only, and he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing it. He’d considered and tossed aside several solutions. A screen the musician would stay behind. Putting them outside the room. Blindfolds.

Every option had a fatal flaw. The girl would know the depth of his possessiveness. His . . . interest. And, of course, there was no fool-proof way to keep someone present from peeking. So even if he were willing to reveal his own weakness where she was concerned, it would be a pointless gesture.

In the end, Nobunaga realized there was only one solution. One he should have decided the moment he came upon her dancing.

******

The chatelaine arrived in Nobunaga’s tenshu at the agreed upon time. She wore an oversized haori, hiding her clothes under the heavy silk. She was barefoot, her nails painted red, and her skin was dusted with gold, glittering in the lamplight.

“You came.” Nobunaga smiled. He’d known she would, yet it was a pleasure to see she did not continue to resist him. At least not in this.

“I said I would.” She stopped just inside the door and looked around. “Where are the musicians? I need at least a drummer . . .”

He nodded. “And you will have a drummer.” He took out a shimedaiko from one of his shelves. Until today, he hadn’t touched the drum in years. He preferred to listen to others play - those with genuine skill - but today, he would have to do.

The girl’s eyebrows rose. “You?”

Nobunaga sat and placed the drum into position. “Give me the beat and I will play.” Her skepticism only made him more determined.

She shrugged. “Alright. The rhythms are split into two sounds. A deeper Dom and a lighter Tak. This one should go . . . dom-dom tak-a-tak dom tak-a-tak.” She mimicked playing with her fingers against her thigh.

It didn’t seem a hard rhythm to play though it took him a moment to follow. Nobunaga played it for her and after a few moments she nodded.

“Ok, I can dance that.” She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. “Just try not to speed up ok?”

“I will.” Nobunaga watched as she closed her eyes, clearly remembering some other place and time. He felt a little jealous that in her world, she must have danced like this many times for all sorts of people. Her friends. Perhaps a lover. Was that what she remembered? He might have asked, but she chose this moment to shed the haori and when she did, he found himself unable to make any sound at all.

Beneath the heavy silk of the haori, she wore a kimono that she’d . . . altered. It fit tight through her chest and flared at the hips. The sides were open to reveal the smooth skin of her legs. And she wore some tasselled scarf around her hip that swayed provocatively even before she began to dance.

Nobunaga took a sharp breath as her hips lifted. Then she was moving, her legs flashing, hips swaying. Her chest rose and dipped to the rhythm he played. Tremulous waves rolled from her chest to hip, and up again.

His heart was racing and his face felt hot. It was all he could manage to continue to play the beat she’d provided. There was a connection between them in this - a bond. He didn’t want to break this spell they wove between her body and the music of his hands.

She opened her eyes and for a moment, their gazes met. Her lips were parted in a sensual breath, her cheeks were pink, and in her eyes there was a languorous heat. Her hips rolled forward and dropped, then she turned and he couldn’t see her face. Only the sinuous roll of her hips as they shook, the tassels swaying.

Nobunaga could not have looked away if his life depended on it. He wanted her dance to go on forever. And he wanted to put the drum down and pull her into his lap. Kiss her gold-dusted skin from those soft pink lips to her innermost places . . .

His thoughts colored the rhythm of the drums. Though he kept the general beat she’d asked of him, he found his hands slowing, sliding over the taught drum-skin as they would caress her flesh. It turned the sound to a sensual one. Less staccato and more glide.

Her body followed the changes, moving in slow, tense circles. She danced around Nobunaga, letting the edges of her skirt brush against him. Every touch sent a shock of need through him, a desire he’d never felt for any other woman.

The air between them was hot, crackling with shared passion. Nobunaga felt he would burst if it went on, but he couldn’t bear to stop. The fires in his heart flowed to every limb. He burned for his fireball. He ached.

She knew the effect she had on him. Her lips were turned up in a small, pleased smile. Teasing, she shimmied her chest, bending, dipping just out of his reach. Or so she thought.

Nobunaga could resist her no longer. He stopped playing and reached for her. His delicious little fireball. She squealed as his fingers curled around her waist.

“Wicked girl,” he said hoarsely, barely trusting himself to speak. He wanted to kiss her.

“T-this wasn’t part of the deal,” she gasped.

“Do you always look so delicious when you dance? Or only when you dance for me?” Nobunaga’s fingers trailed down her shoulder. The thin fabric did nothing to disguise the heat of her skin beneath.

The girl squirmed as if she would like to escape, but only wound up with an arm over his shoulder, and a leg around his waist. “You! What? I - I don’t look . . . “ Her pleasure at the compliment warred with her anger at being manhandled.

Nobunaga simply held her loosely, enjoying the way she moved against him. “I cannot decide if you tease me intentionally and I should be wary of you, or if you are simply this adorable.” He stroked her arm, though he wanted to do so much more. He knew she would resist him, run from him, if he did. Patience was the way to make this little fireball his own. Force would only extinguish her flames.

Her lips opened and closed as if she’d been about to say something, then changed her mind.

“When we are alone, you can say whatever you will to me,” he told her.

“Well. Well I don’t intend to be alone with you! Lecher!” She pushed against his chest and he reluctantly let her go.

Nobunaga watched her as she straightened her clothes and shrugged the haori back on.

She glared at him.

“Thank you for dancing for me. I will count the days until your next performance.” He would have her here every night, he thought.

“No. No. This was a one-time deal. Besides, I told you! I’m not an entertainer! I dance because . . . because it reminds me of home. Of happy times. It makes me feel beautiful and strong and . . .” She looked down, unwilling to meet his gaze.

Nobunaga stood. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head to face him. “You are always beautiful and strong.”

Her eyes were wet with tears she refused to shed. He hadn’t realized she missed her home so very much.

“I cannot-” He paused. Nobunaga hated admitting he couldn’t do something. “I cannot give you back your home. But I will do all in my power to see you safe and happy, here.”

She flung her arms around him and pressed her face to his chest. He could feel her tears soaking the cloth of his kimono. Though comforting was not his best skill, Nobunaga wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back as she cried.

“I . . . I miss my friends. My m-mom,” she wept.

Nobunaga kissed the top of her head lightly. “I would be a friend to you. If you let me.”

She took a shuddering breath and looked up at him. “I - I will. Under all that scariness, you aren’t so bad.”

“Scariness?”

The girl laughed softly. “Yep. And . . . I guess Hideyoshi can be my Sengoku mom. He’s not really scary either.”

Nounaga wiped her cheek with his thumb, removing a tear drop before it could fall. “He mothers us all.” This earned him a brighter smile.

She lifted up on the tips of her toes and brushed a light kiss across his lips. “Thank you.” Then she was gone. Out the door and down the steps.

Nobunaga still felt the warmth of her against his chest. And the petal-soft touch of her lips.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #bellydance #fluff

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kiraakirana · 3 years

Text

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩'𝙨 𝙚𝙮𝙚 | h. kakashi

─────────────────────♡──────────────────────

Tonight, a firework display will be held to celebrate Lady Tsunade's inauguration as the 5th Hokage. After going through vulnerable and unstable days after Orochimaru's attack and the 3rd Hokage's death, the villagers of Konoha finally come together to witness a new beginning under a new leader. A new light finally emerged from the brim of sadness, once again giving everyone hope towards a bright future for Konoha.

It was the talk of the village for the past few days, everybody was deciding what kimono to wear and who to invite. As you would be working late that night, you agreed to meet up with your friends at the firework display after you're done with everything.

You could hear the distant laughter and cheeriness while you were walking towards the venue. You smiled to yourself, happy that the depressing days after the attack is over and that the villagers are back on their feet. You had a purple kimono on with your hair down and a white flower clipping as an accessory. You were quite in a rush, so you didn't really put that much thought into it.

After talking with your friends for a while, you felt uncomfortable being a 5th wheel as it turned out that they each brought partners. Excusing yourself, you searched through the crowd for a certain shinobi with a distinct white hair. You weren't sure if he attended or not as he's not that much of a people person. But you were relieved when you saw him near one of the food stands with none other than Guy-sensei.

"Hi," you said as you gently tapped his shoulder. He was wearing a blue kimono with his mask, as always, still on.

"Hey," he replied as he put down his Icha-Icha tactics. "Eh? didn't see you earlier."

"Yeah, I just arrived a few minutes ago, had to work late for an impor- shit," you said abruptly. Panicking, you hastily went behind Kakashi's back to hide yourself when you saw the two guys who asked you out yesterday.

"What happened?"

"I'll explain to you later, help me hide please," you said quietly. Seeing how pathetic your hiding strategy is, Kakashi pushed you softly into an empty alley nearby and positioned himself dangerously close to you. He put his right hand on the wall next to you as an attempt to hide your face from whoever you were trying to hide from. Although it was considerably effective, it wasn't good for your heart, afraid Kakashi could hear its loud beating. Leaning close he said, "This way people wouldn't even try to approach."

You could only nod, looking down to gather your thoughts as you felt your cheeks heating up. Damn this copy ninja! Does he realize the things he could do to you? You have the hots for him and has been desperately trying to keep it oblivious, but right now, you weren't sure if you could keep your feelings in check from how close you two were.

"Well, if this isn't convenient," you muttered under your breath. Not wanting to waste this chance by looking away, you looked up to see Kakashi giving you a smile. "Well, if you don't tell me who you're hiding from, we would stay like this until tomorrow morning," he added, "Not that I have any problems with that."

Embarrassed, you pushed Kakashi and stomped away, "They're gone already." You then looked back at him who looked nonchalant about the entire thing, much like his usual self, walking behind you. To you, it seemed like he was acting indifferent, but you failed to notice that Kakashi was a nervous wreck. Even when his fingertips would brush your skin subtly, it would send shivers down his body. He was giving it his all to hold himself back and not get caught up in the moment.

How could he not? You were a famous kunoichi known for your intelligence and beauty. Despite being younger than him by a few years, he admired your maturity and tendency to remain cool-headed at all times. It's not rare that he overhears his comrades complimenting you. You were a truly skilled and hardworking shinobi who earned everybody's respect.

"Thanks," you said quickly.

"Couldn't hear you," he teased.

"I hate you," you replied while turning away. Kakashi was your senior in ANBU and because of your great chemistry and teamwork, you two were often sent together on missions, therefore explaining your close relationship. He was always there to give you advice and comfort you whenever you felt homesick during long missions.

It wasn't until Kakashi was discharged from ANBU that you felt his great impact on your life. You were in denial for quite some time, until you came to the conclusion that the reason you were constantly worrying and missing him was not because you were simply his friend, no. It was a feeling much stronger than that.

"Is this the thank you I get for saving you?"

You swiftly grabbed his hand and took him to the rooftop across the one where Guy and his team were sitting. This was the best place to see the fireworks and it also meant less chance to encounter the two guys you saw before.

"I saw the two guys that asked me out, they also asked me to go to the firework display with them."

"And you rejected them?"

"Yeah, I said I couldn't go tonight," she shrugged, "I mean, I'd rather go with someone else."

"Then why aren't you with this guy right now?"

That question caught you off guard. "Well, he's definitely here right now," you said awkwardly, "But I wasn't brave enough to ask him to go with me. Besides, I wasn't sure if watching firework is his thing," you said, letting out a laugh. Knowing him, you were sure he'd rather stay at home to read his books. You made a mental note to thank Guy for dragging him here.

"Oh."

"You're not going to press me further about who that person is?"

"No," he shrugged.

"You’re no fun," you said jokingly, although it was an attempt to persuade him to ask you more questions.

He laughed and said, "Okay then, who's the lucky guy?"

"Well there's no fun in it if you directly ask me who he is, you have to guess."

"Then, what's this person like?"

"Um, let me think," you said as you carefully thought about him, "He may seem very nonchalant at first, but deep down he's someone who cares a lot for his comrades."

"Hm, that wouldn't narrow the options by a lot. How does he look like?"

"He has a distinct hair, tall..."

"Why do you like him?"

"I feel safest around him. He's a truly wonderful person, I wish I had the guts to tell him that. I feel like he doubts himself a lot. He needs to know that a lot of people are grateful for him, including me. I've never liked anyone else the same way I like him."

"As your senior, I say you should just straight-up tell him about how you feel,” he gave you a smile and a thumbs-up to encourage you.

“Ah, so she has a special someone. I mean, it’s no surprise right? Someone like her couldn’t possibly be single forever. I guess I was too late, huh?” thought Kakashi.

"Well, I don't know if he feels the same way..." you said, shifting awkwardly in your seat.

"But there's no telling unless you tell him right?"

"Yeah, I guess...”

To hell with pride.

"I like you, Kakashi."

"Wait, I mean you should tell him that, not me."

"Huh? This whole time I was talking about you, damn it."

"Uh? So you?" he looked at you, surprised. You didn't know what made him so surprised though, wasn't that obvious hints? Who else has distinct hair in Konoha? Okay, aside from Guy and a few other people... Yeah, maybe you should've just said 'white hair' but it would be like giving it away.

"Yeah, whatever you're trying to say. If you're going to reject me, at least wait until the firework's over so you don't ruin it."

It was silent for a while and all you wanted to do was throw yourself to the river. Just kidding. You should've stayed home. But then again, there's no better time than right now. It’s either now or never. You had to get the weight off your chest and you’ve prepared for the worst possible outcome for years. "You know what, I'm sorry. I know it's ridiculous for me to like you when you have so many other-"

"I like you too, Y/N."

"Girls fawning over-" you froze for a moment and looked at him in disbelief, "Wait, did you just?"

"Come," he said as he stood up and gave her his hand, "I know a place where you can see the fireworks much better." It was one of your favorite Kakashi smiles, the one where you couldn't see his eyes. Despite not being able to see the rest of his face, this was enough to put the butterflies in her stomach.

It was a place near the river, far from the busy crowd. The water moves calmly and the fireworks could be seen clearly. "You know, I was serious when I said those things. I really see you as a wonderful person."

"Yeah, I know. I'm a very lucky guy."

"But don't get too full of yourself," you said jokingly, landing a weak punch on his arm.

You looked at Kakashi, who was laughing wholeheartedly, in awe. This was truly a sight to remember. Feeling entirely grateful, you gave him a shy hug, hiding your face on his kimono. Y/N who was usually a confident, collected person, became a mess whenever he's around. Only he’s able to do that.

Kakashi ran his fingers through your hair soothingly and rested his head on top of yours. Despite the loud cracks of the fireworks, you could subtly hear Kakashi's soft voice saying, "Thank you, Y/N."

A/N: this is inspired after seeing Kakashi on episode 306 of Shippuden called ‘The Heart’s Eye’. It was so cute seeing Kakashi in a kimono, I just want to give him the biggest hug:(

#kakashi #kakashi hakate #kakashi x y/n #kakashi fanfiction #kakashi headcanons #kakashi hc #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you #Naruto Shippuden #naruto #kakashi scenario #kakashi imagines

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thesquidkid · 3 years

Text

Lately I've been feeling so alone

Based of this post by @milady-bugg, thank you for letting me use it as inspiration for a fic 😁

This is sadder than intended, and full of Michael Guerin feels, hope you'll enjoy! This is also quite long (5.4k lmao), so you can read it on AO3 if you prefer.

Michael had isolated himself in his bunker, not letting anyone - even Sanders - in. At first, there were a few knocks, the door opening a few times and each time, Michael would slam it shut with his powers. He needed to process. It was one thing, to know that you were the son of a monster, another to face the man as he gave his own son a heart attack. Father of the year, right here!

So Michael had isolated himself between 4 walls, literally underground, where he could let all his anger free without hurting anyone. But the others couldn’t really understand that, and he couldn’t blame them. So everyone went on to live their lives, do what they were good at.

Isobel and Rosa were looking for Max, searching every cave, every abandoned house, turning every stone, using Rosa’s new found ability. Liz was making sure Maria stayed stable and healthy, her state hadn’t really decreased, but it hadn’t improved either. Whatever was going on, she seemed to continue the fight. Because Maria DeLuca was her own saviour, every damn time.

Michael didn’t have any news of Alex, just that he had found Kyle and that he was safe. He had hesitated calling Alex a few times, to compare notes on shitty father, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Alex, the person who tried every damn day to distance himself from his father, to fix what he broke, to be a better man.

So Michael was alone, in his bunker, with Sanders coming in every once in a while to complain that Michael wasn’t working, but both knew it was just an excuse to check up on him, make sure he was doing fine.

And really, he was. After the initial shock of finding out that his father was a copy of his brother (really, all those times Max had played his father, it was just in his DNA), where he completely and utterly lost it, he was now in a much calmer headspace. He had repositioned all the furniture that had been thrown against the walls, had done some extensive cleaning and given back a few tools and random parts he found to Sanders.

Although, he was still feeling empty. Had emptied his entire body, crying, shouting, wanting to break stuff with his powers, but knowing that if he did he would have to replace it somehow. And he was still broke. So he had to figure out another way of letting his emotions free, that didn’t involve breaking the little stuff he owned, and regretting it.

Instead, he focused on what he was good at. Had put all of the alien tech he had on the main workspace, fiddling with it at first, letting his hand move freely on it, feeling the way the tech reacted to him. From then, he realised that he still didn’t completely know what the tech could do, had assumed it was only part of the ship, but the recent events, with Kyle’s radio and Jones’ sword, he was getting curious as to what he could do, with his imagination and mechanical skills.

This is where it all started, with the alien glass and his tools, letting his hands move as they desired, his mind still busy thinking about - well, everything that happened in the last few days, from Jones being his father, to Max maybe still nearly dying, to Maria being in a coma, and to Alex being God knows where doing God knows what.

As he thought about his friends, his family, his people, his fingers were doing something similar. This is how he found himself, after three days in the bunker, barely sleeping, not at all in contact with the outside world - only going out to take a shower, get some food, and use the toilet in the airstream - with a bunch of glass objects, clearly designed for his friends, and not knowing what to do with all of it. Well, he knew, but that meant going out and seeing them, their faces, probably full of pity, no one knowing how to address the elephant in the room - Jones.

He was building up the courage to get out and gift his creations as peace offering, or whatever they wanted them to be, when he was disturbed by a knock on the latch, then it opened, followed by a very familiar voice that he didn’t expect to hear any time soon.

“Look, Guerin, I get that you want to be alone right now, and uh, yeah -” Alex Manes said, passing a hand across the face, fighting the want to jump down that ladder, understanding more than anyone what being the son of a monster felt like, and even then, neither of their experiences were comparable. “I’m just here to tell you that, ah, Maria woke up, and uh, she’ll be staying in the hospital for a little longer, so uh, yeah that’s what I came here to say.” he finished, and stood up from where he was crouching above the opened latch, looking down in the bunker but not seeing more than the ladder and light. He could also slightly distinguish Michael’s shadow, glowing under all the lights he guessed were alien.

Michael thought Alex had left, and nearly closed the latch using his powers, when he heard the last few words, barely a whisper, but clear as day to him. And he knew that Alex knew that he heard them. “I’m here. If you ever want to talk, or whatever. I’m here for you, Michael.” And with that, Alex left, understanding the peace of being alone with your thoughts, and knowing that Michael would come out whenever he was ready to.

And he was ready to come out. Soon after he heard Alex’s car leave the junkyard, he rushed to his airstream to take a shower and change clothes, taking with him the glass object he had made for Maria. When Sanders saw him leave the airstream, showered, dressed in clothes that hadn’t been worn the past three days, smiling, he couldn’t stop the teasing comment, “If I knew getting your boy here would get you out, I’d have done it long ago.” Despite the comment, he was glad that Michael was feeling better, and even more glad to hear the “Not my boy. Maria’s awake,” that came from Michael as he drove away, leaving Sanders in the junkyard, a smile on his face. The kid was starting to realise that family wasn’t the blood coursing through your veins, but the people you choose to surround yourself with. He hoped Ms. Nora would be proud of her boy, wherever she was.

Michael drove to the hospital at a respectable speed, not wanting to get arrested the day Maria woke up - she would never stop making fun of him about it. He nearly ran towards her room, stopping only at the open door, taking in the people in the room. Liz was at the foot of Maria’s bed, holding a board with papers clipped to it - most likely Maria’s health results - talking with her hands, a large smile on her face. Rosa was sitting on the bed, next to Liz, exchanging side smiles with Maria, her entire body more relaxed than she had been since Maria’s coma. Isobel was standing to the side of the room, leaning against the wall, facing the door. She was the first to see Michael, making him smile back, and promising her to talk and hang out, by their psychic bond. Finally, he turned his eyes to the head of Maria’s bed, where the two Manes men who had gone against their father were sitting, Greg leaning against the back of the chair, a hand holding Maria’s and the other going up and down on her arm in a reassuring sign, Alex on the other side sitting with his elbows on his knees, chin resting on one hand, apparently the only one truly listening to what Liz had to say.

He cleared his throat, not knowing how else to announce his presence. “Mikey!” came the synchronised shout from the Orthecho sisters, “what took you so long, dude? We texted you ages ago!” Rosa teasingly asked, Michael not bothering with an answer and simply sticking his tongue out to her, earning him a roll of the eyes from Liz and Isobel, a full on laugh from Rosa and a slight chuckle from Alex.

“How you feeling, DeLuca?” he started to ask, his voice clear with worry, but remembering many of their conversations, he continued with something he knew she would prefer to him worrying too much, “I might check out some other bar if you stay out of the game for too long.”

And he seemed to have been right, as Maria giggled and stood up straighter, “Oh I’m not too worried you’ll be right back at the Pony in no time Guerin,” she said smiling at him, which Michael copied. “And,” she added, pointing her finger in his direction, “you still owe me 15,09 bucks, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Michael shook his head, of course she wouldn’t forget the drinks he had during the last year that he hasn’t yet repaid in services. Since it was the pandemic, they both didn’t have much money so they agreed that whatever drinks he ordered would be paid back in free car or bar maintenance, and vice versa. As if they weren’t already cutting deals for each other.

Feeling all eyes on him, especially since he had gone AWOL for the last three days, Michael cleared his throat once more and took a few hesitant steps towards Maria, ignoring everyone in the room but her. “I, uh, made you something?” he said, cursing himself mentally for making it sound like a question, “here,” he put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out four little alien glass hairpins, ‘it’s alien glass, I thought you might like them.”

He looked at her to see some tears in her eyes as she took the hairpins and observed them in her hands. “They’re, Michael, those are amazing ,” she said with so much sincerity that Michael was taken aback by it, “Thank you.” she added with a smile.

In the end Michael sat on the floor against the wall, listening closely to Maria talking about what had happened with Jones. He felt at ease, surrounded by his friends, still feeling the weight of Kyle and Max missing, but everyone enjoying this small light in what had felt like a week of pure darkness.

Being with Maria, giving them his creation, had given him the courage to talk to the others, and hand them their gifts. He went to see Liz, one day, as she was still in Kyle’s office, observing scans of Maria’s brain. He pointedly ignored those pictures, deciding that he wasn’t going to think of what his father could have done to Maria and her brain, knowing the guilt he would feel if he did. Instead he stood in front of Liz and handed her two teardrop earrings made out of alien glass.

She stopped in the middle of her sentence, and stared up at Michael who smiled awkwardly, her mouth agape as she took in the beauty of the jewelry. “Mikey, wow, I - I don’t know what to say.” she said, looking back and forth between the earrings and Michael.

“It’s nothing, Ortecho, really, I had glass laying around and -” he started to say but was interrupted by Liz. “Thank you.” she nearly shouted, standing up and bending him in a tight embrace, which he returned gladly. He then held up Liz’s phone as a mirror as she put them on and admired herself, making both of them laugh, before reality caught up, and they both needed to focus on Max, Kyle, and Maria. Liz kept the earrings the entire day, and wears them on any occasion she can, the alien colorful glass going with a multitude of clothing combinaisons.

The next person Michael gave a present to was Rosa. She was at the junkyard to train her powers when he surprised her with alien windchimes. He quickly used his powers to hang them up while she had her eyes closed and let the wind do the rest of the work. She opened her eyes in admiration of whatever sound she had heard and turned towards the source of it. “Woa,” she said under her breath as she walked slowly towards them, until finally touching them with her hands, letting the windchimes sing under her fingers, the alien glass slightly reacting.

“You made those?” she asked, turning around to Michael. He nodded, smiling, feeling quite proud of his work. “The sound they make,” continued Rosa, turning once again to look at the windchimes, Michael walking closer to her, “it’s - I don’t think I can compare it to anything.” He nodded once more, encouraging Rosa to continue, “It’s like a melody. I can hear the wind, but it’s different, it’s beautiful.”

She leaned against Michael who was now standing slightly behind her, Michael instinctively putting her arm around her shoulders, the two of them standing in the middle of the junkyard, admiring the alien glass windchimes Michael had made for Rosa. She would come buy the junkyard many times, listening at the way the wind circled through the windchimes, admiring their beauty.

After that it all happened really quickly; Rosa and Isobel found Max, Michael and Liz had been called to the rescue (Jones had apparently regained his body and vanished), followed by Kyle waking up, Greg and Maria rushing to some ranch in the middle of nowhere to get Kyle and Alex. Eventually, all this craziness died down for a bit, Max was hiding in Alex’s cabin in the woods, since Jones had used his body to commit crimes, he couldn’t really go grocery shopping without getting arrested, and Kyle had regained his job at the hospital. Michael seriously wondered how he hadn’t been fired yet, but he wasn’t complaining, at least someone in their group seemed to know what he was doing with his life.

He made his way back to the hospital, except this time to see the one person he swore he would never visit as a kid. A doctor. But not just any doctor, a doctor who was quickly becoming a good friend of his, which he obviously wasn’t going to admit. He walked in the corridors, knowing the place quite well by now, and knocked on Kyle’s office door. A tired “Come in” answered and he opened the door.

As soon as Kyle saw who was on the other side of the door, he groaned and nearly snapped, thinking that maybe now would be the time to get a new group of friends that didn’t have alien emergencies every four hours. Michael must’ve sensed what Kyle was about to say (something along the lines “I don’t care that the world is burning because of some alien invasion, I need sleep! And no, a coma doesn’t count.”) because he raised his hands in surrender, a smug smile on his face.

“Relax, no alien life or death situations, or at least not that I know of.” This had the expected effect, Kyle relaxed in his chair, crossed his arms on his chest and raised an eyebrow at Michael, silently asking him why he was here then. Michael closed the door behind him and sat opposite Kyle, on one of the patients chairs. Still smiling, he took out of his pocket two glass paperweights that he delicately put on the desk for Kyle to grab, just as delicately.

Kyle was silent as he turned the paperweights between his hands, admiring all the different angles, reflecting his desk light on the walls and papers he had on his desk. While Kyle was busy, Michael slowly put his hand in his other jacket pocket and took out a glass snow globe with a little cardboard UFO, two little plastic aliens, and pink fake snow. He put it on the desk and waited for Kyle to notice, after having put the paper weights on top of two small piles he had.

When he saw the snow globe, his face lit up with astonishment, and he looked up to Micheal, once again speechless. “I know what it’s like to see a doctor as a kid and being scared,” Michael said, not looking at Kyle but at the little snowball, “and I know it’s not the same, but uh-”

“I’m sure the kids will love it, Michael.” Kyle said, honestly. He took the globe and shook it, chuckling at the way the UFO dangled, the way the little Aliens wiggled and the way the pink snow fell on everything. “Thank you.”

Michael shrugged, “Consider it payback,” he said, with a sincere smile this time, “for all the times you saved our asses.” And with that, he stood up, waved awkwardly at Kyle (who waved back just as awkwardly) and left.

Kyle took care of the paperweights, who in reality weren’t so heavy, but never broke as they fell. All the kids that came by his office would stare at the little snow globe, admiring it, feeling calmer and safer during their appointment.

Isobel called Michael over the next day. She said she wanted to go shopping for Max, since he was stuck away and was getting bored (how he had already read all the books Alex gave him, was a mystery to Michael, but he supposed when there really wasn’t anything else to do…)

Michael ran on her doorbell and let himself in, using his powers to unlock the door. He made his way to the living room and sat on the couch, looking at the decorations of Isobel’s walls. This house felt more homey than the one she had shared with Noah, there were paintings on the walls he knew Rosa had made, a few old and useless metallic pieces he had turned into sculptures and decorations laying around in various places. But what was really different was the huge bookshelf, books varying from science fiction (for Michael), to inspiring novels (for Isobel) to fantasy and romantic (for Max), indicating that this wasn’t just her home for her, but that her brothers were welcomed here too.

Michael put on the table the necklace he had made, the pendant made out of alien glass and the chain from some silver he had laying around the junkyard, and waited for Isobel to come out. When she did, she smiled at Michael and sat next on his left, facing him. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking, and our brother isn’t really the best cook so -”, she started to say, but cut herself as she saw what was on the table.

She grabbed the necklace between her fingers, and looked to Michael, who was leaning against the couch, an arm slung over it, a bright smile on his face. He winked at her, when he saw that Isobel was looking at him, and she leaned against him, her heard on his shoulder, Michael folding his arm around her.

“It’s beautiful, Michael,” Isobel said, emotions strong in her voice, “thank you.” Mihael rubbed his hand on her shoulder, not really knowing what to say, but wanting her to know that he would always be there.

Isobel wiggled the necklace in front of his face, Michael taking it with a chuckle as he attached it around her neck. The two of them stayed like that, leaning their heads against each other, in silence, in peace. Eventually, Isobel stood up, hurrying Michael out the door and into his truck to go shopping for Michael. And if they were a bit later than what they had told Max, arriving with humid eyes, no one made a comment about it, Max glad to have some company and more books to read.

Michael went back to see Max at least once a day, staying for a few hours or a couple of minutes, always checking in. The two had a lot to talk about, especially the elephant in the room - Max being a clone of Michael’s father.

Michael found himself enjoying those little brotherly moments, and more so the one after they had done the whole Jones subject. Michael would make a few comments about Liz staying in Roswell, to which Max would respond with questions about Alex.

“You know,” said Max on the third day Michael came when they were sitting around a fire pit, enjoying a few beers, after Michael had strongly avoided any topic about Alex, while also admitting to having some feelings (which Max knew of already, subtility wasn’t Michael’s - and Alex’s - strong suit), “this is the first time you and I have talked about dumb highschool crushed together.”

Michael chuckled at that, a hint of sadness that Max quickly brushed, “Hey no, the past is the past man, I’m just saying that I’m glad we’re finally talking, you know? Feels like we’re finally not hiding stuff.” And Michael raised his beer bottle at that. It was indeed the first time that they were both completely open, no more secret. They both were at fault on that, but as Max had said, the past was the past, no point reminiscing, when you could focus on making the future better.

With those thoughts in mind, he took out of his pocket an alien glass bolo tie with little turquoise end caps on the ties, and handed it to Max, who took it. They were both hypnotised by the way the flames reflected on the glass, the way the colors seemed to dance in the night.

Max didn’t say anything, didn’t have too. He put his beer on the floor next to him, stood up and motioned to Michael to do the same. Once they were both standing, facing each other, they hugged deeply, strongly. In the end, all the other bolo ties Max owned got mostly replaced by this one, being worn at every occasion he could, always with his brother in mind.

Michael had two more presents to offer, and was sitting in his bunker, not knowing how to approach either of the people they were made for. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to figure one out, as the person in question opened the latch and climbed down the stairs with a grunt. “Kid,” came Sander’s voice as soon as his feet reached the ground, “think you can use that brain of yours to build a lift here? Getting too old for this.”

“Well no one is forcing you to come, old man,” Michael replied, although there was no true bite to it. In fact, he quite enjoyed the old man’s occasional visits, even if all he did was complain. Michael turned around to face him, “Everything all good up there?” he asked, wondering why Sanders had come down. Sanders just nodded at him and took the last steps for him to arrive at Michael’s level, leaning his hands on the workspace. “What you working on, kid?”

“Uhm, actually -” started Michael, now that Sanders was here, might as well give him the present, right? “I got something for you.”

Using his powers, he approached a little metallic sunflower he had made from scrap pieces found here and there in the junkyard, and had made the center out of alien glass. The whole thing was attached to a chain to be held up against the door to Sanders house.

Sanders grabbed the sunflower and looked at it intensely with his good eye, remembering the colors Ms Nora’s creations were, seeing them once again on that little sunflower. Neither said anything, nor made a step forward to hug, neither being used to physical comfort, but they both knew how much that gesture meant.

To Michael, it meant acceptance, family, a sunflower for all the sunflowers they grew at the junkyard over the pandemic. To Sanders, it meant pride, it meant having kept his promise to Ms Nora to take care of his son, it meant family.

The sunflower was attached by Sanders' door, the alien glass glowing under the desert sun, always turning to face it, like all the many sunflowers they had in their field.

Which led Michael to one last gift. And if he was being honest with himself, the one he dreaded the most. Also the one that took him the most time and the most research. A gift for Alex. Taking his courage in both hands, he sent a quick text to Alex before he could have any chance to doubt himself. Free right now? I think I might take you up on your offer.

He didn’t have long to wait, as his phone buzzed almost immediately, On my way. Be there in 30 . He rushed back to his airstream, ignoring once more Sanders’ comment about getting ready for his boy , to get changed and put beers in the fridge. He opened the door of the airstream just as he heard Alex’s car arrive, and sat on one of the chairs, two bears in hand, while he made his way over. Alex sat on a chair next to him, accepting the beer, in silence.

“I heard you were busy while in your underground lair, judging by the gifts I’ve been seeing pop up.” Alex said with a smile, taking a sip of his beer, turning his head to look at Michael.

Michael frowned his eyebrows, “I thought you were busy out of town?” he asked, barely stopping the bite from escaping his lips. Alex looked sheepishly away from Michael at that, “I’ve been trying to not distance myself too much,” she shrugged, his tone lowering, until being a simple whisper at the end, “to not drive myself crazy.” He shivered at whatever thought was going through his mind, then straightened his body and looked up to Michael, “Anyway, you said you’d take me up on my offer, I’m assuming you want to talk?” he asked, forcing a smile that Michael didn’t buy.

“The hell is going on with you, Alex?” Michael asked, with a bit too much force that he immediately took back at Alex’s defeated look, “First you tell me you’d burn down the world for me, then that you don’t want me anywhere you or whatever, and then you end up finding Kyle in some creepy farm, which might I add is the exact same farm you got stabbed in .” He took a breath, and continued, “So yeah, Alex, I want to talk, I want you to tell me what’s going on with you.” He stopped at looked at Alex, who didn’t really seem like he wanted to say anything, so he lowered his voice, taking back all the bite and anger he could, channeling how much he cared and worried about Alex, “You said you were there for me, it’s a two way street you know. I’m here for you too.”

That seemed to do the trick, as Alex’s teary eyes met Michael’s, who wanted nothing more that to wipe his thumb across his cheeks, to take away the fear and the pain he could see in those eyes. But he didn’t, they weren't there yet.

Alex took a deep, shaky breath and told Michael everything, from quitting the Air Force (getting a discharge with full honors, Michael could tell the pride in his voice as the last ten years of Alex’s hadn’t been totally useless), to joining Deep Sky, to the Lockhart machine, to his boss not being who he said he was, to discovering that the Lockhart machine had driven people crazy, to the reason he had been recruited by deep sky. After his explanations, he fell quiet, looking at Michael, not truly knowing what to expect.

What he didn’t expect however, was for Michael to get up hastily, move the airstream and rush to his lair, leaving Alex sitting on his chair, a half empty bottle of beer in one hand, tears in his eyes. But Michael came back, just as fast as he had left, holding some piece of alien tech mixed with metal in his hands. It took a moment for Alex to register what that object was, and once he did, he widened his already teary eyes in surprise, his mouth was slightly agape, his eyebrows were frowned, as he searched for the words to express his confusion, not wanting to get his hopes high. On the other hand, there wasn’t a multitude of people Michael could’ve made an alien prosthetic leg for.

Michael approached slowly with the leg in his hands, handing it to Alex once he was close enough. “I uh- I made you this.” he said, clearing his throat, while Alex was examining the leg, “It’ uh, lighter than the one you have now, but it’s also more resistant and, well, you could really bludgeon someone with it, if uh - if you wanted to.”

Alex kept looking at the leg, not saying anything, which Michael interpreted as him not being interested. “You don’t have to take it, if you don’t like it. I also made you this,” he rushed out, taking a braided leather cuff with a piece of alien glass as a stamp and handing it sheepishly to Alex, who was looking at him, with the same teary look he had for the past few minutes. Michael took a deep breath and sat back down, “Look,” he breathed out, “what I’m trying to say, Alex, is I’ve got your back, okay? I’ll build you whatever you need, I’ll go wherever you want me to, I’ll - I care about you.”

As Alex opened his mouth to say something, Michael raised his hand to interrupt, and continued, “And I’m the son of a literal dictator whose powers I’ve inherited. I can defend myself. And I know that you wanna protect me - I do too - but maybe we could, I don’t know, protect each other by being there?”

Alex, whose tears were now running free on his face, bent down to take his right shoe off, under Michael’s curious gaze, who could also feel tears running down his cheeks. Alex raised his trousers and took off his prosthetic, before grabbing the alien one and putting it on. He knew the size would fit, knew that Michael had worked hard on it, had probably had the idea of making him a new leg from the moment they met again, in front of that same airstream, under completely different circumstances.

They had gone a long way from that day, and they still had some more to do, but Michael was right. Maybe this time, they could be there, together, to take that new road, to protect and take care of each other, together. Before standing up, Alex attached the bracelet Michael had made around his left wrist, admiring the colors of the alien glass under the desert sun.

Alex stayed at the junkyard for some more time, until his alarm rang, informing him that he should head back to the Lockhart machine. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Michael, asking him if he wanted to come with, and together they drove to the farm, down a road they had both taken together once, but this time Alex wasn’t bleeding out.

After that day, Alex still went to the VA in Albuquerque for meds prescriptions and physical therapy once in a while, but all the repairs that needed to be done for his prosthetic, all the improvements, were done by Michael, in his lair, under Alex’s curious gaze, who wanted to know everything about Michael’s ideas.

After all his gifts, Michael found that he still had some alien glass laying around in his bunker. So he decided to turn it all into little rings, wanting to distinguish as much as he could from the weaponizing of the alien glass, like Jones had. Eventually, all of little friend group, all of his people, owned a ring.

And when the day came, when the fight with Jones reached its last stretch, Michael was ready. He didn’t have an alien sword like Jones had, but he had something much more. A group of people, by his side, all sharing his strength through the little alien gifts. His people, his family.

Lately I've been feeling so alone Can someone give the antidote to me so I can Finally understand where I belong

#i am soft for michael guerin #he has people 🥺#michael guerin #alex manes #maria deluca #liz ortecho #max evans #isobel evans #rosa ortecho #walt sanders #rnm fic #roswell new mexico #rnm #lyrics from Head Up by the score #thesquidkid writes

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mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Pianist pt 7 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 8

Jude did not lose her job at Java Island.

The boss was certainly not happy, but once she produced the agent's card he was suddenly very taken with the idea that a celebrity might have their origin story as a waitress at his cafe. So he let her stay.

She finished her shift, floating from table to table and not any of Cardan's crew or anyone else could bring her down from this high. Jude sang as she made coffee, sang as she wiped tables, and when she got home she sang when the excitement was too much for her to be able to sleep.

Early the next morning, as soon as was polite, Jude called the agent. He picked up after two rings.

"This is Bryern" he said in a clipped voice.

"Hi," Jude said, breathlessly. She tried again. "My name is Jude. You left me a business card yesterday and said I should call."

"Jude?"

At that moment, Jude remembered he she had never given him her name.

"Ain't No Sunshine," she prompted. "Juilliard, practice room B."

"Ah yes! How could I forget? You know I saw a lot of students that day, and Juilliard is lucky to have you."

"I'm, ah, actually not a student," Jude corrected, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say.

"Even better!" Bryern said. "I won't have to share any of the credit for discovering you! Listen. I'm glad you called. I've got a meeting with a bunch of producers this afternoon, but my talent cancelled on me and now I'm going in empty handed. Can you make it down to LA by 4pm?"

That sounded impossible.

"Sure," Jude said weakly.

How could she say no? For this, she would make the impossible happen.

"Great! I'll text you the address. This is your number?"

"Yeah, this is me."

"Alright. See you soon, kiddo."

Bryern hung up the phone and Jude stared at nothing.

It was certainly possible to get a flight if she left right this second. But after paying rent two days ago, and a week away from her next pay cheque, Jude had all of fifty dollars to her name. That left only one option. She hated it, but it was the only one.

She whipped around her room and put a change of clothes, a handful of toiletries, and the little makeup she owned into a bag. She collected her wallet, charger and passport. Then she tugged her shoes on, walked up the stairs, and knocked on Cardan's door.

It took a few goes to get Cardan out of bed, and she was expecting that. She knocked loudly, insistently, and would just have to apologise later. After a couple of minutes, he arrived, clearly straight out of bed.

Cardan's eyes flickered when he saw who was at his door.

"Hey," he said muzzily. His gaze rolled languidly down her body, and his tongue licked at his bottom lip. "I was just dreaming about you."

"Cardan," Jude said.

"Jude," he returned.

"I know this is so shit. But I need to ask you a favour."

Cardan yawned. Jude needed him to help her, but the lazy pace he was moving at made her want to slap him awake.

"Well you've got good timing," he said, "because I'm pretty sure I owe you. Or at least, I owe dream-you."

Out with it. He clearly wasn't fully functioning yet, and there was no time for beating around the bush.

"I need to fly to LA," she told him. "Would you lend me the money?"

That got his attention. Cardan raised his eyebrow, and stood a little straighter.

"Any particular reason for the sudden departure?" he asked.

"I called Bryern this morning. That agent, from yesterday. And he said if I could make it over to LA by 4pm today, he would introduce me to a bunch of producers. And I... I have to go, Cardan, this wil never, ever happen to me again I just know it, I..."

Cardan had walked away. Jude paused, uncertain if he was coming back or if this was her dismissal.

Then he returned, and handed her a matte black credit card.

"Here," he said. "This should get you there and make sure you're fed and sheltered etc, etc."

"What's this?"

"My credit card, what does it look like?"

"Don't you have... uh, cash?"

Cardan stared at her. "Do people still carry cash? Jude, it's fine, take it. There's a $100, 000 limit, don't spend it all in one place." He winked at her.

"I'll pay you back," Jude promised. "And I won't spend any more than I have to."

Cardan just waved her away.

"You can pay me back when you're famous and I need to borrow money from you. Now off you go, you have a plane to catch."

Jude exhaled a breath she didn't know she had been keeping in.

"Thank you," she breathed, and then went to the airport.

////////

Jude was gone for three weeks, all up.

Twenty-two days, to be exact, and Cardan knew this because that was the number of days he had not slept.

When Jude had showed up at his door all those weeks ago, he had thought he might have still been dreaming.

After that morning in the practice room, Jude had gone back to work at the café, and then immediately went to a shift at the diner. He didn't get a chance to talk to her, and then when she got home it was late and he knew that she liked to sleep early. So he contented himself with listening to her sing while she pottered around, and figured he'd try catch her the next day.

Of course, after Jude had come on the piano and he had left school with with a boner that chafed on the zipper of his jeans, she had been on his mind all day. When he realised he wasn't going to see her, he stood in the shower and replayed the sounds of her pleasure and the taste of her pussy until he found his release.

Only to walk out, hear her voice floating up through the vent and find himself hard all over again.

No wonder then, when he finally fell asleep it was Jude he dreamed about. And in his dream, it was him on the piano and Jude on her knees.

And then he had woken up to find Jude in real life right on his door step. It took an enormous amount of self control to lean the door, feign nonchalance and to not drag her back to bed with him.

At first, Cardan had been more than happy to help Jude off to LA. She had an amazing talent and if all that was in her way was a few hundred dollars, that was an easy fix.

But then he went off to school, came home and worked on his composition, and when he stopped playing the silence rang out like a death toll.

It sunk in then that he had been relying on Jude to help him fall asleep ever since he had heard her that day, and had no idea what to do without her. Had stripped the carpet and kept the vent open just to bring the sound up.

Cardan tried, he really did.

He tossed and turned for three nights, before he reached for the Grey Goose in his top cupboard. It helped a little, but the sleep was patchy and the dreams were bad.

Over the next couple of weeks, Cardan started to unravel, and was so ashamed that all it had taken was for Jude to leave the downstairs apartment. He sat at the piano to compose, but no inspiration came. He tried to practice, but his fingers rebelled against him. And this time, there were none of Valerian's antics, or Locke's parties, or Nicasia's kisses to distract him.

Cardan did think once about calling Jude, just to hear her voice. Even if she was just talking. Then he realised he didn't actually have her number; they had always just found each other in person.

Probably for the best, he thought. How pathetic was he that he couldn't cope without her?

Cardan went out that night, and even thought that he might take someone home. Sometimes sex helped him fall asleep.

But as many people as he met, none of them were Jude, and that particular crime was so unforgivable that he despised them all.

Fucking hell, how did he used to do this?!

Cardan went home, drunk but somehow still not sleepy, and lay down on the floor by the vent. No voices came through it, but he stayed there anyway, and poured vodka down his throat until he passed out.

****

Don't worry Cardan, she's coming back in the next chapter x

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

#jurdan #jurdan fic #tfota #mine

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years

Text

Once Upon a Flower Shop

Pairing: Captain Swan

Summary: When Killian’s flower shop, Jolly Blooms Flower Shop, fails to deliver the bouquet Emma ordered, she pays the establishment a rather angry visit. Little to either of them know this mix up might just turn into the best thing that ever happened to them.

Rating: G/K

Words: 1520

Other Chapters: (2) (3)

This fic was written for the #love4teamhook event as a way to support Alma, @teamhook while she’s going through a difficult time. Thanks to @jrob64 for her work in betaing for me!

Killian Jones cupped the delicate blooms of an orchid in his hand and nodded in satisfaction. He’d been rather worried about this particular plant. It had shown signs of distress a week past, and for several days he’d feared it wouldn’t make it. He had done his research, separated the diseased plant from its mates and cared for it as tenderly as a parent would their child.

Today was the first day the orchid showed signs of improvement. Like Killian himself, this orchid was a survivor.

Killian gathered up the plant and placed it back inside the bright, humid greenhouse, and then stepped back behind the counter of his shop Jolly Blooms Flower Shop. Sometimes it amazed him, the life he now led. As a young man, he’d longed for adventure, danger. He’d joined the navy to be close to his brother, and the life they’d led had been fascinating. He’d loved every minute of it.

Until the moment his brother Liam opted to leave the navy and marry his highschool sweetheart, Elsa.

Suddenly, with his brother no longer at his side, danger and adventure no longer looked nearly as appealing. Left at a crossroads, he’d taken some time to evaluate what he wanted to do with his life, and in the end, he’d opted for the pursuit of beauty.

There was something so calming and yet rejuvenating about being surrounded day after day by beautiful flowers. Providing a product that brought joy and comfort to his clients was infinitely rewarding. His was a quiet, peaceful existence.

His introspection was interrupted when his shop door was suddenly, forcefully opened. He looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her golden hair fell on her shoulders and down her back like a cloud of sunshine. Her green eyes shone.

Unfortunately, today they seemed to be shining with anger. So much for his quiet, peaceful existence.

“May...may I help you, love?” he asked, hesitantly as she reached his counter, planted her feet and crossed her arms.

“Yeah, I wanted you to help me yesterday, but apparently asking for a flower shop to deliver flowers was too big of an ask,” she clipped out.

Killian found himself at a loss for words, barely even registering what the vision before him said. They say when you’ve found your soulmate, your True Love, you just know. You can feel it. He’d rather thought that was nonsense, but now...well, now he was beginning to rethink every notion he’d ever had about attraction, romance and even love itself.

“Well?” she exploded, planting her splayed hands on his wooden counter and scowling fiercely at him.

Killian blinked, shaking his head slightly, willing himself to come back to his senses. Whatever his attraction might be to this woman, she was a customer, and he must get it together and provide her the customer service that had made him one of the most sought-after small flower shops in the area.

“My apologies,” he said. “Was there a problem with a flower delivery?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh I don’t know. I ordered a bouquet to be delivered yesterday, and yet still no flowers have arrived. Seems like a bit of a problem to me!”

Killian frowned. He’d had several flower orders go out yesterday, and he’d gotten no complaints from his delivery people that they’d been unable to complete their tasks successfully. “Could I have your name, love?”

“Not your love,” she gritted out. “Emma Swan. I ordered a bouquet of snowbells to be delivered to Mary Margaret Nolan. It was very important that they arrive yesterday on her birthday.”

He remembered the order, because of its unusualness. Few people specifically requested snow bells, and those who did typically wished for them to be an accent in a larger arrangement rather than the sole flower within the arrangement.

Killian typed for a moment on his computer, bringing up the order details. “According to my records, that bouquet was delivered as requested bright and early yesterday morning.”

“And yet my sister still does not have her bouquet of flowers,” the woman, Emma Swan, said.

Killian peered down at his information once again and groaned. Will. He should have known his newest--and most annoying--employee would be at the center of any mix up.

“Scarlet!” he called over his shoulder.

A moment later the man in question stepped through the back room door and walked up to the two of them. “Anything I can do for ya boss?”

“There seems to be a mistake with yesterday’s deliveries,” Killian said, willing himself to keep his voice even. There was just something about Will Scarlet and his care-free and yet somehow insolent style that made Killian wish to throttle him more often than not.

“Nope,” Will said, grinning. “No problems with yesterday’s deliveries. Handed the flowers personally to every person on my list.”

“What about the bouquet of snowbells for Mary Margaret Nolan?”

Will tapped on his chin, seemingly deep in thought, and then he brightened. “I remember her. Pretty woman, that. Long, curly, fire-red hair. Kinda thought about asking her out, but decided that might not be so professional-like.”

“Curly red hair?” Emma Swan bit out. “Mary Margaret doesn’t have curly red hair. She has dark brown! I don’t think she even knows anyone with curly red hair!”

“Did you confirm the name of the recipient?” Killian asked.

“Yep, just like you taught me,” Will said, nodding vigorously.

“And this red-head confirmed that her name was Mary Margaret?” Killian asked.

“Well, I mean she said her name was Merida,” Will conceded, “but I figured hey, that must be a nickname for Mary Margaret or somethin’.”

Killian rubbed at his temples, a pounding headache beginning to set in. “And you didn’t think to confirm that you had the right address and that this person, with a different name, was the actual intended recipient of your delivery?”

Will shrugged. “Hey, I don’t ask questions. I just go where the Google maps lady tells me.”

Killian full-on facepalmed this time before glaring at his unbelievably dense employee. “Just...just go back to what you were doing. Later, we’ll have a long, probably rather loud discussion about the proper way to deliver flowers.”

Killian watched the idiot disappear into the backroom, muttering to himself about it being Mrs. Google’s fault and then turned back to face the wrath of the avenging angel before him.

“Miss Swan, my sincerest apologies for this unfortunate mistake,” he said. “The delivery man at fault will be dealt with, and I will set to work this moment to create a replacement for your sister.”

The remainder of the visit was completed in a matter of moments. Killian took down his dream woman’s information, apologized profusely, and then assured her yet again that he would personally see to the creation and delivery of the arrangement, that it would be his first priority.

Killian’s reassurances seemed to mollify the woman slightly, though her ire was clearly not entirely ameliorated. Satisfied that she’d at least accomplished what she’d set out to do, Emma Swan turned and walked briskly out of his shop and out of his life.

It rather amazed Killian what a profound sense of loss he felt as the door closed behind the lovely lady. He’d only known her for the space of five minutes, for Zeus’s sake, and most of that was spent with her yelling at him. It made no sense that he’d feel such a deep, elemental pull to her already, and yet the heart wanted what the heart wanted.

Killian grabbed a vase and headed in the direction of his snowbells. There was no doubt about it; he must find a way to see Emma Swan again. Slowly, an idea began to take shape within his mind. It was a bold move, perhaps even risky, but if there’s one thing Liam had instilled in him it was this: A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets.

If he didn’t at least try with Emma Swan, Killian knew he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

Notes:

--This story is loosely inspired by The Words music video, as you might have picked up. I’ve never written about florist Killian before, and I decided it was time to change that.

--I’m anticipating 2 more short chapters that I’ll post on each of the next Thursdays. (The point of this event was to post one shots...but my muse is terrible at following directions, lol.

--Up next: We’ll get some Killian pining (a la the music video), but the bulk of the chapter will be from Emma’s POV. We’ll find out why she was so angry about her flowers not being delivered, and we’ll see her reaction to Killian putting into action the plan he comes up with at the end of this chapter.

NEXT CHAPTER-->

#love4teamhook #teamhook #cs ff #captain swan au ff #cs florist au ff #fluff #my fanfiction

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: READ WARNINGS!!

Please I really want you to be safe.. anyways, this is mainly a set up for the next chapter.. it has a shit ton of angst prepare yourself.

Also am very sorry it is late!! ‘‘Twas very hard for me to start writing it, btw I started another AU please go check it out, thank you <3

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Warning: Torture I go into detail, gore, cussing manipulation, characters lose sense of reality.

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