When Derek shows up at Stiles’ back door that morning with a basket full of about three dozen cookies, all carefully iced to look like Batman and Spider-Man, Stiles doesn’t say anything. He just gets up from the kitchen table and opens the screen door, and then he looks down at the basket for a long, long moment, and then he rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.
He looks kind of… unkempt. He’s wearing the same sweatpants and lacrosse hoodie he’d had on two days ago when Derek saw him at his mailbox, and his hair is sticking up everywhere, and it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved in a while because there’s some actual stubble there. Derek didn’t think Stiles was even capable of facial hair. It only adds to his attractiveness, but still, Derek can’t help but be concerned.
Derek doesn’t usually start conversations, but today he feels like making an exception. “Are you okay? This is a lot more baking than usual, even for you.”
“What? What do you mean?” Stiles says, dropping his hands to his sides. His face cycles through about five or six different expressions before settling on something that’s probably trying to say “innocent and oblivious,” but… well. Derek might not know Stiles that well, but he knows Stiles is definitely not either of those things, ever.
“The cookies,” Derek says slowly. “That you leave on my doorstep a few times a week while I’m out on my morning run.”
Stiles glares down at the cookies Derek’s holding like they’ve betrayed him.
“We don’t talk about it,” Derek says slowly, unsure, “but I thought you knew that I knew it was you. I mean, no one else in the neighborhood even talks to me.”
Previous installment:Eggs (Attack of the Pregnancy Brain!)
November 23rd, 1950
“Happy Thanksgiving, Frasers!” Marian Harper sang out as she opened the door.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” we chorused in return, arms full of Bree and wine and basket of lemon meringue pie.
“Oof, come in out of the rain,” she clucked, ushering us into the warmth of her cozy foyer. “Though I guess we should thank our lucky stars it’s only rain, not the blizzard they’re getting down south!”
“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed, deftly extricating Bree from her raincoat while still holding her. “Made it a bit slow-going on the drive over, but much preferable to snow.”
“And the rain’s good luck for Miss Bree! Happy BIRTHDAY, sweet pea!”
Thus addressed, Bree giggled and lurched forward into Marian’s arms, surprising all of us.
“Glad to see she’s finally getting less intent on clinging only to Mama and Da,” I laughed.
Jamie helped me out of my coat and sweetly kissed my cheek as we followed Marian into the living room. “I suppose being properly two years of age makes a difference, after all!”
Earlier that day
“Our wee lass doesna appear to be verra sensible of the grand occasion, Sassenach.”
I wiped my hands and turned quickly from the stove (which YES, I’d managed to turn on, thank you very much), beaming. Sure enough, Bree seemed about as interested in festivities as the average boulder. She had both arms around Jamie’s neck and was making it quite clear she was not in the mood to be up and about.
“Well, I suppose she doesn’t remember her last one, little as she was,” I conceded, coming close to tickle Bree lightly in the side. “Guess what, lovey-dove? It’s your BIRTHDAY!”
The dramatic excitement in my tone made her bolt upright at once, hair wild: curlywig to end all curlywigs. “S’bird-day?” she demanded.
“Yes, baby, it’s your birthday!”
“What-is ‘at, Mama? Mama?” She continued to screw her face up at me in concentration as Jamie buckled her in to the high chair. “What-IS ‘at, bird-day? Mama? Mama, what?”
“It means ,” Jamie offered, settling next to her and putting out one of his hands for hers, “the day you were *born,* a leannan.”
“What-is-it, ‘borrnd,’ Daddy?”
“It means the day God gave ye to Mama and me,” he said patiently, “So, it’s a verra special day, aye?”
“What-is-’at?” she said immediately, lacing her fingers together and flapping them about. “Daddy, dinna kennit. What is-’at ‘spedchill’?”
Jamie sighed, love and exasperation so perfectly mingled in that way unique to parents. “’Special’ means…the verra best. Just like you, sweet wee cub.”
“See my-dese jammies?” she chirped, changing direction with lightning speed. “Dey’re porpoor, Daddy, see’um?”
“Aye,” he laughed, “I see, a leannan.”
She pulled at the fabric of her top. “Dey’re spedchill?”
“Aye, those are verra SPECIAL purple Jammies,” he said, meeting my eye and trying not to laugh.
“Your birthday,” I said significantly, walking over to them with Bree’s breakfast held high, “is the day where Mama and Daddy talk about how JUST how much we LOVE our Bree.” I bent and latched onto her sweet, dimpled cheek in a huge, long mmmmmm-ing kiss and Jamie came in to do the same on the other. Bree, caught between us in a smooch sandwich, was giggling so hard she was fit to choke.
“Those are your first presents,” I said pulling back. “Two kisses for your second birthday. And here’s the next!” I slid the plate onto the tray in front of her for inspection.
“Sassenach….That is…” Jamie looked up at me with the queerest expression on his face. “…the *Cutest* thing I’ve ever seen.”
It was little more than a circle with two lopsided ears, but I’d embellished a snout with banana slices and chocolate chips for nose and eyes, and powdered sugar to top things off.
Yes, it was fairly bloody adorable.
Bree squealed. “Issa—Lookint-’im-that-wee BEAR, Daddy!” She hooted in delight and then began promptly to demolish said wee bear.
“You’d best slow down, mo chridhe!” Jamie laughed. “He’s going to roar in your tummy for gobbling him up so fast!”
Bree’s mouth was so full she couldn’t reply, but there came a happy, muffled *mmphurr!?!* that signified her excitement to see this play out as soon as humanly (bearly?) possible.
“So neither of you have ever had Thanksgiving before?” Tom asked as he poured Jamie a glass of wine in the sitting room.
“No, indeed!” I settled back onto the sofa with a cup of tea. “A singularly American holiday, this one.”
Tom furrowed his brows. “But you were here stateside last year too, weren’t you, Claire?”
“Oh, yes, well….Yes, but I wasn’t in the going-out frame of mind, to be honest.”
“It was a different life, before you came back, Jamie,” Marian said knowingly, beaming from the floor, where Bree was sitting on her lap playing with her birthday present from the Harpers. “We’re glad you did.”
“As am I, a nighean,” he said warmly to her, then met eyes with me. Glad doesna even begin to express it.
It would have been a thoroughly lovely moment, except morning sickness had come a-calling with a VENGEANCE today, and I had to close my eyes while yet another urge to vomit abated.
Jamie noticed and made as if to come to me, but just then, the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately thereafter by Della O’Malley running head-on into Jamie and nearly spilling his wine as she barreled around the corner. He managed to catch her with his free hand, and she looked as though he’d hung the bloody moon. “Hi, Mr. Fraser,” she said breathlessly, gazing up into his face.
“Happy Thanksgiving to ye, Miss Della.” He kissed her hand, which sent her into paroxysms. Jesus H. Christ, the girl needed a cold shower, pronto.
Thankfully, though, it seemed her glow wasn’t *entirely* due to infatuation with Jamie. “Claire! Claire, guess what?” she said, bouncing in my direction.
“Peter asked you to go steady?” She’d been talking about this boy for weeks, it was about time he made a move.
“YES!!!” she squealed, thudding into a chair next to me. “Can you BELIEVE IT!??!”
“Wine, Claire?” Tom said, coming over with a glass.
“Oh, no, thank you.”
“No, thank you, Tom, I’m all—” Good Heavens, I nearly burped in the poor man’s face, but managed to choke back the wave of acute nausea and croak, “—
all set with my tea.”
I could have sworn Marian gave me a suspicious look, but thankfully, Jamie came to my aid. “So, from what I gather, the festivity centers around coming together and eating in a spirit of gratitude. But that’s about all I ken of it. Is there more?”
I had told him the story earlier that morning, in fact, but I was grateful for the diversion while Tom gave the Proud Son of Massachusetts recitation of the Thanksgiving tale.
Jamie nodded in approval. “Thanks be to God for the kindness of the native folk, then. I must say, I enjoy hearing tales of anyone that managed to fly in the face of the English crown—Sorry Sassenach,” he added with a grin.
“Does Scotland not belong to England?” Della asked, bewildered.
“Depends on who ye ask,” Jamie laughed. “Suffice it to say, there’s a reason the marriage between Claire and me raised no small number of eyebrows.”
“But you married anyway,” Della swooned, “how roMANTIC!!”
Jamie grinned and sat down next to me. “Verra romantic indeed.” He saw my pallor and squeezed my hand, speaking low so only I could hear. “Are ye feeling alright, Sassenach?”
“Bit queasy,” I admitted, resisting the urge to clutch my abdomen.
“Can I get ye anything?”
“No,” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “But thank you. Just have to wait for young Fraser here to settle down.”
He smiled and ducked his head, trying not to let the others see the direction of his tender gaze.
We had agreed not to announce the pregnancy until the three-month mark, as was customary. We knew better than anyone that tragedy could still strike after the first trimester, but had decided that for Brianna’s sake, at least, it was best to wait until the highest risk of miscarriage was past….even though acknowledging the possibility of losing another child sent claws of fear tearing at my heart.
But I’d carried one child safely; Lord willing, I could do so again.
Please, Lord, keep this little one safe.
Jamie wrapped one arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “I am thankful, today, ye ken?” he whispered.
“Oh?” I murmured back, looking into his eyes, curious, but already smiling from the tone in his voice. “Whatever for?”
“For ourdaughter. For you carrying her. Giving her life, this day two years ago. For—” His voice caught, just barely. “—For how ye went on living when ye didna wish to…” He gently touched my face. “For working as hard as ye do, at home and at the hospital….For being my wife. For….well…” He very discreetly touched my belly. “For our children. And for taking care of us in this new world”
I ran my hand down the side of his face, unable to speak as I kissed him. Come what might in 1951, never had I had a year in which there was so much for which to give thanks as 1950.
“I’m going to shrivel up and DIE from how much you love each other,” came Della’s tremulous threat. “Just you WAIT.”
54. “I think I forgot how to breathe.” (… iwillnotmakeadumbsappycommentnnnnnnopeiwillbenormalforonce)
They had just been making cookies. Patton had been teaching Anxiety, having decided it was high time that he and the darker trait had some good old fashioned bonding time. And he knew that the other enjoyed the simple motions of measuring and stirring and shaping cookies. They had been going all morning, having completed a batch of chocolate chip cookies and another of snickerdoodles. They hadn’t seen the others, which was normal. Logan usually had to work and Prince was usually off adventuring.
But when Logan finally came down the stairs, dressed in an outfit that Patton had never seen before, his heart stopped.
“I- Patton, are you okay?” Anxiety waved a hand in front of the fatherly trait’s face when he suddenly froze, staring in the direction of the stairs.
“I think I forgot how to breathe.” Patton murmured breathlessly, and Anxiety followed his gaze to see Logan in a black button up instead of his usual polo, his sleeves rolled up and his tie mysteriously missing.
Anxiety rolled his eyes, pushing Patton out of the kitchen, much to his surprise. Patton suddenly found himself holding a plate of assorted cookies. “Go on.” Anxiety muttered, pushing him further out.
“Go on and what?”
“Ask him if he wants a cookie. Duh.” Another hard poke to his back, and Patton found himself facing Logan alone.
“I thought I could detect the scent of baking.” Logan eyed the plate in Morality’s hands. “Was that Anxiety I heard?”
“I-I’m teaching him how to bake!” Patton laughed, although to him it sounded a little too high pitched and shaky. Thankfully, Logan didn’t seem to notice. Something which Patton thanked his lucky stars for. “Would you like one?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Logan took a chocolate chip cookie. “I was actually going to ask for your opinion on this shirt. I was considering wearing it for the next video.”
“It looks great.” Patton smiled, his grip on the plate tightening ever-so-slightly. Dear god, he was going to die, and it would be Anxiety’s fault for letting him talk to Logan. “A bit dressy, though?”
“I see. Perhaps it would be better suited to our romantic outing this Friday?”
“I- what?” Patton was certain that he had heard completely wrong. Logan couldn’t have been talking about them going on a date. No way.
“Let me rephrase. Would you like to go on a date with me, in which I will wear this shirt, since you seem to appreciate its aesthetic greatly?”
Patton blinked. And blinked again. “You’re. Actually asking me on a date. A date date?”
“Yes, Patton, a date date.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Patton was pretty sure he was screaming on another plane of existence. That was the only explanation that explained the fact that he wasn’t currently screaming on this particular plane.
Logan nodded, and quickly pressed a kiss to Patton’s cheek, because disappearing back up the stairs.
Meanwhile, Thomas found himself strangely elated, and was sorely resisting the urge to scream happily.
Summary: After a
disastrous date, you hope to never see Bucky Barnes again. But after a horrible
accident, you and Bucky are forced to team up to do the unthinkable – raise a
child Warnings: none yet Word count: 583 A/N: I’M B A C K!Hi! This is a new (drabble) series inspired by the movie ‘Life As We Know It. (I love that movie) and also a similar dream I had. So I hope you enjoy and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know in my asks! :) Btw! If I haven’t answered your asks, it’s because I haven’t checked my inbox in like 66 years, I’ll catch up with that tomorrow!
The small, tasteless room of the local attorney’s office
seemed to close in on you by the second. The only sounds in the room were the
ticking clock on the wall and the clicking of your freshly painted nails
drumming on the mahogany desk. You took a deep breath of chemical air, the
cleaning lady had been a bit heavy handed with the air freshner this morning. The
big batch of oxygen did nothing to calm your racing heart.
Just a week ago, you lost two of your closest friends, Nat
and Clint to a car accident. Nobody saw it coming, nobody to blame, except the
weather maybe. Suffering through the funeral, you got a call from an unknown number.
It belonged to Nat and Clint’s lawyer, Tony Stark. He asked to meet as soon as
possible and now here you were, sitting in front of his desk, waiting for
someone you least expected – Bucky Barnes. The „you’re perfect for each other“
hot date Nat arranged for you, that turned out to be a damn catastrophe,
starting with the guy being almost an hour late, ending up with him asking you
to drop him off at a bootycall’s house.
So I’m uploading this part a little earlier than I participated because I figured that there was nothing integral to the plot in it; I can afford to upload it without fear of needing to go back and change things. Thanks to @agentpiku and @thefallenbibliophilequote for the comments last time, and to @imagine-that-marvel and @marveliskindacool for beta-reading. Enjoy my darlings!
On the outskirts of the city, a great distance away from the
main city and its glittering palace, lay a small greening village of no more
than 600 peoples. The town’s inhabitants were hardened and hearty on account of
the toil and labour that had allowed their home to prosper. Such success was
granted in part by the vast forest that lay adjacent…
Thanks to the resources provided by the neighbouring woods,
a thriving economy had been cultivated within the town. The first mile of forest
alone held plenteous income for the town. A particularly large river that
passed the edge provided ample fishing opportunities. Bushes bristling with
berries and root vegetables were easily found. Even veins of metal ores and
precious stones were locatable within a day of dedicated searching.
The only way out of the city was via a main road that also
navigated the thick trees. Carriages moved through it on a daily basis, bringing
goods to and from the village. Despite the traffic on this path, nobody ever
dared to venture away from it, for fear of what terrors the shadowy thicket held.
Everyone in the village had a role. If you were strong, you
felled wood. If you were fast, you hunted. If you were patient, you herded
Summary: Chapter 7 of Trope-Tastic! ~ Tadashi + 4. Mutual unrequited pining until a third person(s) intervenes and gets them together.
“To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved, that’s everything.”
You hummed along to the music playing in through your earphones as you pulled a fresh batch of lemon poppyseed muffins out of the oven. While the last of the morning batch cooled, you arranged the bagels and pastries in the display case next to the counter.
The cafe was empty, only an hour until opening, when the usual breakfast rush would be coming in. The sun was just barely reflecting off the buildings of San Fransokyo as you worked.
You were getting a culinary degree, specializing in baking at San Fransokyo University. What better way to practice your skills for money, than at the Lucky Cat Café? The owner, a lovely woman named Cass had hired you back in the summer to be the in house baker and to act as a second waitress as needed.
Once all the food was on its place, you wrote the specials out on the whiteboard behind the counter as you boiled water for a cup of tea. Provided there weren’t too many people this morning, you had a fair amount of time off before making more baked goods for the rest of the day.
You were sitting at one of the tables, working on a paper about the science behind puff pastry, as you enjoyed your cup of english breakfast. So focussed on your work, you didn’t hear the soft footsteps on the stairs in the corner.
“Can I join you?” The soft, deep voice of one Tadashi Hamada brought you out of your trance. His throat seemed a little gravelly from sleep, making your heart flutter.
“Please do.” You said with a smile, flattered that he wanted to spend time with you. “Are you usually an early riser?” You asked congenially, closing your laptop to focus on the cute guy who had been the object of many of your thoughts lately.
“I try to be. This morning it was a little easier with all the delicious smells from down here.” He chuckled, making you smile widely.
“Have you eaten yet? I can grab you your pick of this morning’s selection.” you offered.
“Are you sure? I don’t want-” He tried to protest.
You waved him off. “Please, Cass won’t notice. Plus, who better to be my taste tester than you!”
You weren’t sure, but you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creeping up his neck. Within a few minutes, you were resituated at the table, chatting while he had breakfast. You were glad the conversation was mostly small talk, because you found it far too easy to get distracted when you talked to Tadashi.
CertifiedWizard’s Acute Assortment of Attunable Artifacts
Grandma’s Cookie Jar (wondrous item) (requires attunement)
This old and chipped jar has the word ‘cookies’ carved into into its weathered side. Every morning, a fresh batch of cookies fill the brim of this jar, and when eaten, reminds you of home.
This magical focus requires you to bake a batch of cookies and fill it before you are attuned. Once attuned, the jar gives you a +1 bonus to wisdom (insight) checks. This magical focus has an effect on several spells.
Charm Person: When the user of the cookie jar casts this spell, they can instead choose to make the spell at touch range, and offer the target a cookie. On a failed save, the target takes a cookie and sits down to eat it. If the target remains undisturbed for the duration of the spell, at the end it falls into a natural sleep for 1 hour.
Goodberry: When cast, a dozen oatmeal cinnamon cookies appear in the jar. Each cookie restores 1 hit point and gives the user advantage on checks against fear effects for 1 minute.
Purify Food and Drink: When casting this spell, roll a d20. On a 15 or higher, this spell doesn’t consume a spell slot.
Smoking Pipe of Snoop the Dog(spellcasting focus) (attunement optional)
This pipe is carved from the root of an old and gnarled tree, and the fresh green leaves budding from it imply the root is still alive. You can feel relaxed just from the fresh smell emanating from it.
This magical focus can be attuned by anyone, but only druids gain access to its’ hidden secrets. When a druid attunes to this item, certain spells are altered and enhanced.
-Thorn whip and shillelagh: cantrips do fire damage
-Fog cloud: can be cast as a bonus action.
-Goodberry: instead of making berries, makes 10 servings of a smokable herb. If a serving of this ‘Goodherb’ is smoked during a long or short rest, the user gains your spellcasting modifier as temporary health. This temporary health lasts for an hour.
-Flame blade: light is gone, and replaced with a haze of smoke, making you and everyone within 10 feet lightly obscured.
Guirelli’s Tokens of the Elements (Spellcasting focus) (requires attunement by a caster)
This token, fashioned into a medallion, features an elemental on one side and a evocation rune on the other. Tokens of all spell damage types exist, but force is by far the rarest.
Elemental Equity: This magical item can be used whenever you cast a damage-dealing spell of the corresponding type. After rolling for damage, you can flip a coin. On a heads, the spell deals max damage, on a tails, the spell deals the average damage. After using this coin it loses this ability until the next day at noon.
Dead Man’s Blade (sentient weapon) (attunable)
This old and worn weapon can be anything. a Dead Man’s Blade was a weapon wielded by a warrior so focused and willful, even dying in combat cannot stop them. The weapon is magical, and can have any magical bonus from +0 to +3. This weapon is sentient, but cannot communicate. The weapon exercises its’ will by assisting in combat, or by revoking its magical benefits. When the weapon approves of the actions of the wielder, it can perform a special action once per combat. When the weapon is neutral to your actions, it is merely a magical weapon. When the weapon disapproves of your actions, it is a normal weapon. The feats and stats for the weapon depend on the type of warrior who wielded it.
Class of the Weapon
Stats of the Weapon
int 12 wis 12 cha 14
minor rage: for 3 rounds, after you make a weapon attack, you have resistance to bludgeoning, slashing, and piercing damage until your next turn
int 16 wis 16 cha 18
minor inspiration: you gain an inspiration die that is a d4. you can apply it to a skill check or an attack roll.
int 14 wis 18 cha 16
minor blessing: you can heal an ally you can touch for 1d4
int 16 wis 18 cha 14
minor beast: a CR 0 beast attacks an enemy you can see. they must make a wisdom save of 10 or they are distracted and ignore you for a round to fend off the attack.
int 14 wis 15 cha 14
minor strike: as a bonus action after a normal weapon attack, make a strike with the handle of the weapon for 1d4 damage
int 14 wis 17 cha 14
minor tumble: when an attack misses you, as a reaction you can tumble to a space 5 feet from you. Does not provoke attack of opportunity.
int 14 wis 16 cha 16
minor smite: after a successful weapon attack, add 1d4 damage to the attack. add twice the damage if the target is undead.
int 14 wis 16 cha 14
minor bleed: on a successful weapon hit, deals 1d4 damage the next round. advantage to track enemies that have bled.
int 16 wis 14 cha 16
minor sneak attack: deal an extra 1d4 when attacking with advantage.
int 16 wis 14 cha 18
minor mana leak: when hit with a spell by a creature in range, deal 1d4 damage back to them
int 14 wis 14 cha 20
minor soul cut: make a ranged spell attack with the weapon (range 20/30). deals the weapon damage amount and type.
int 18 wis 16 cha 14
minor arcane blast: when attacking, casts a random combat cantrip at a nearby enemy.
Your love of strawberry shortcake really doesn’t match your appearance but I still think that’s really cute.
Successful was always the word Hermione used to describe her future when asked. Business school seemed the best way to go about making sure she was. She always figured she’d be some kind of accountant, or manager. She hadn’t even considered the idea that she would inherit her cousin’s bakery. She hadn’t even considered that she would be thrown into someone else’s dream and that she would have to work so hard to learn the trade herself and…well…after all these years she’d really grown to love it.
Her friends had thought she was crazy when she first started but they knew if anyone could do it, it was her. And she did. She’d taken night classes and learned to bake and had kept her cousin’s dream alive long after she had passed unexpectedly.
Once again, a huge thank you to my betas, @notanislander and @booksrockmyface. They are both amazing authors and this story wouldn’t be the same without their help!
Friday morning dawns cloudy and cold, very fitting for my mood. Since I made up my work hours earlier in the week, I spend the early morning baking a batch of cookies and a double-batch of cheese buns with my personal ingredients to bring for the reception. Delly’s told me a couple times that she hasn’t been able to get Katniss to eat very much this week, so I’m praying the cheese buns will entice her to eat a little once the funeral’s over.
Once the baking is done I head back upstairs to shower and dress, pulling out my light blue dress shirt and black pants that I haven’t worn since I interviewed for my coffee shop job. I have to search for a YouTube video to help me remember how to tie my tie, but after a few fumbling tries I’m able to get it so it’s at least not crooked. After a quick run of my comb through my hair, I pull on my nicer jacket before heading downstairs and out the door to walk to the church.
I’m pacing back and forth in front of the small auditorium at 10:50am when Delly and Thom finally show up, with Katniss practically propped up between them. Katniss is dressed in a charcoal grey skirt and matching sweater, which I’m guessing she must’ve borrowed from Rue or someone since I’ve never seen her wear a skirt before. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy and her face pale. When I move to take her from Delly’s grasp, she almost falls into me.
“There, there, love,” I murmur. “I’ve got you. It’ll all be over soon.”
April was a wonderful month. The sun was shining for once, and it warmed Marinette through to her core as she sat out on her rooftop garden. Even Tikki was enjoying the warmth, spreading out on a small cushion Marinette had made for her a few years prior.
As Marinette took a sip of iced tea, she thought how perfect a Sunday afternoon it was. It was almost like nothing could even improve on such a relaxing afternoon.
I was standing in the kitchens one morning, fanning a batch of rice when he came careening through the door and nearly fell flat on his face on the packed dirt floor.
“Hello?” I asked incredulously, turning to look over my shoulder.
Lord Shigezane was breathing hard enough that he was doubled over, hands on his knees. He huffed some words, the last of which was “doll.”
I couldn’t make out the rest, but I dropped what I was doing and poured him a cup of water, which he accepted gratefully.
“What on earth happened to put you in this state?” I asked, tentatively reaching out to rub the space between his shoulders. He straightened up and aimed a grin at me bright enough I had to squint at how dazzling it was.
He was handsome at the best of times, but unspeakably so when he was smiling.
“Bears,” he breathed, finally regaining his composure.
“Bears?” I repeated, unsure that I’d heard him correctly. Imagining gigantic furry beasts rampaging through the castle was enough to put me into fight or flight mode, at least until he grabbed my shoulder.
Lord Shigezane chuckled. “Well, maybe just one bear. A great, hulking devil of a beast called Kojuro, in fact. Sparring practice with him was akin to fighting a bear, if you ask me.”
He groaned. “My muscles are screaming.”
I chuckled, refilling his glass. “And why was he so hard on you today?”
“Because I told him I was going to ask for a massage from you afterwards and he said he ought to make it worth my while, then. Rude.”
I laughed at this, moving back to the rice and forming a few rice balls, which I wrapped up in a bundle. I was done my kitchen duties, anyway.
“Then why don’t we go take these out somewhere nice and sunny, and then I’ll make sure you get that massage. We can’t have Lord Kojuro accusing you of not being a man of your word.”
Out in a deserted corner of the courtyard, I spread out a blanket and we settled down for our impromptu picnic.
Lord Shigezane groaned almost filthily as he enjoyed his rice balls, then lay on his back and cloud-gazed.
“D'you think that one looks like a bear, doll?”
“I think you have bears on the brain, milord.”
He wrinkled his nose at the honorific and then shot me a naughty look. “You know what I’d rather have? You on top of me right now.”
I blinked. “We are outside…” I began.
Lord Shigezane sighed and flipped over onto his front, mumbling his lament under his breath. I carded my fingers through his hair until he shuddered, at which point I walked my fingertips down the back of his neck and began to knead his shoulders.
Little by little, his breathing picked up and I could feel the roll of his hips that was coming naturally now, slowly driving into the blankets beneath him. An absolutely shameless display to be doing in public, but nevertheless I was starting to squirm with want, too.
All of a sudden, he reached back and grabbed my hand. He rolled onto his side, pulling me down with him so that I was lying at his back. My hand was splayed against Lord Shigezane’s stomach, which was thrilling because I could feel the heat emanating from below.
“I’m sorry I can’t hold you right now, doll, but will you hold me?”
I melted at the request, readily agreeing. I pressed close against his back and curled lovingly around him, intertwining our calves. Eventually his breathing slowed enough for him to say, “I think I need a nap or else who knows what I’ll do.”
“Go ahead,” I told him, nuzzling my face against his shoulder blade. “I’ll protect you from any bears that show up while you’re sleeping.”
I felt rather than heard him chuckle. “I’ll return the favour when we get inside - but only after we take care of a few things first.”
Summary: Before you head out on the road, Sam decides he needs to talk with you. After everything that is said, it leaves you second guessing everything.
Groggily, you made your way into the kitchen. Your alarm woke you at six and since, you had managed to brush your teeth and get dressed. Lazily, you walked through the threshold; rubbing your sleepy eyes and sliding your feet across the floor.
“Good morning there, sunshine,” Sam chuckled as he sipped away at his coffee, article clippings scattered around him.
“Good morning, Sammy,” you greeted, perking up at the smell of the yummy dark liquid that helped fuel your mornings.
Request from anon: Hi absolutly love your imagines, would you write an imagine about the reader being in neck deep into work and forgetting that it’s her/his birthday and everyone throwing a party for the reader? Perhaps with focus on Golds chara?
Note: Hope this is okay! Haven’t written much in the way of Gold yet :)
Gold x Reader
Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their creators <3
Why on earth had you decided to open up a bakery? Back in the early stages it had seemed like a brilliant idea, one that might have even paid off after a while, but instead of watching as the profits rolled in you found yourself working ridiculous hours and only just managing to make ends meet. So much for this venture shaping your future!
You didn’t even know what time it was right now but given how extremely tired you felt and how deserted the street was outside it was safe for you to assume that it was definitely sometime in the early hours of the morning. Another batch of pastries was in the oven and finally, for the first time, you could allow yourself to sit down and take a five-minute break
As soon as you sat down onto the chair the full force of your exhaustion hit you and before you could stop them from doing so your eyes closed shut.
“Leslie, who are you texting now?” Ben muttered. They’d gone
to bed after making sure the triplets were all accounted for, lunches and
work-bags prepped for the morning, even a batch of overnight oatmeal chilling
in the fridge (Leslie wouldn’t touch it but the boys liked it well enough and
Sonia made herself a breakfast calzone every day, proving genetics), and it was
dark and so late it was early and Leslie’s face was lit by her phone, her
fingers tapping away.
“I had a good idea and it couldn’t wait till morning,” she
said, not sparing him a glance.
“You know they still see the area code if you leave a
message for the Senator after hours. There’s no point in you calling the swing
votes overnight, you’re still not a state resident,” Ben said, tired because it
was late and because they had to even have the conversation again. Leslie had
taken the Capitol switch-board number, 202-224-3121, and sort of jammed it into
“867-5309” which she sang under her breath, in the shower, while she was
stirring up waffle batter and the iron was heating on Sunday mornings. She’d
made Ann memorize it too, which was the bigger accomplishment, since Ben was
pretty sure Leslie had known the Capitol switch-board number since she was 11.
“I know. I’m not calling any of them. And before you ask,
I’m not faxing anyone either. Grassroots—that’s the way to go,” Leslie said.
“‘Grassroots?’” he repeated.
“Networking. Getting in touch with friends in states with
swing votes,” Leslie replied.
“But you’ve already called Andy and April and Ann. You
Grzzyl-texted everyone in your phone. Including me. The Lil’ Sebastian emoji
was a nice touch, by the way,” Ben said.
“Not everyone. I forgot the most important person,” Leslie
“I don’t care what everyone says, Joan Callamezzo is not the
Angela Merkel of Pawnee,” Ben groused, turning over and staring up at the
ceiling. He’d never liked the light fixture in their bedroom but there’d never
been time to get it replaced and he only really thought about it at times like
“No, not Joan. Perd. Perd Hapley—he’s everywhere! And he
knows everyone. If I can get him to retweet my tweet about Graham-Cassidy,”
here she gagged a little, as if he’d offered her a kale salad, “It’ll go viral!
Even if he just reblogs it, everyone follows him.”
“I have to admit, it’s not a bad idea,” Ben said
“Of course it’s not. It’s perfect—friends talking to
friends, using social media to amplify important messages, all it’s missing is
whipped cream,” Leslie said, finishing her text/email/tweet barrage to Perd and
setting the phone back in it’s cradle. She almost sounded sleepy, which meant
she was wiped out.
“C’mere. You’ve got to get some rest. There are a bunch of
parks to protect tomorrow and more calls to make and Sonia’s orthodontist appointment.
You need your sleep,” Ben said, pulling Leslie over. She settled down without
any argument, a rare situation. He listened to her breathing even out and then
he listened to her sleep-murmuring,
A/N - Guess what I have for you lovelies?? Another Newt Preference!! This one has been requested from a long time reader of mine, the lovely goghbooks. This was really cool to write! And in honor of the Fever Code Prologue, I wrote some of it in Newt’s POV. Hope you all enjoy it!
When You Keep your Medical Condition a Secret from Him
You stepped outside the MedJack hut
for some fresh air after dealing with those deafening screams of the latest
runner who arrived back from the maze. After treating him, you realized that
like the other patients, he too may possibly be permanently scarred for his
life. That was the fourth case this week. You weren’t sure how much longer you
could take it. Everything was fine in the beginning as you trained with Clint
and Jeff when you first entered the glade. Soon after treating more complicated
and slightly disturbing injuries, it took a toll on you. A grave condition,
which you kept a secret from the other gladers. Well, all except one.
“Good morning shorty,” came a stern
You didn’t have to turn around to
know who that was. “Gally,” you stated acknowledging his presence, “You never
seem to get any less annoying do you?” You bent down beside the large, metal
buckets and dipped your hands into the cool, refreshing water – a luxury that
doesn’t come often.
“Just concerned,” he replied
defensively as you splashed water on your face. The chillness sent a shiver
through your body, sharpening your senses. You reached for the towel on the
table and began to gently dab your face.
“Your eyes look tired,” he stated
“It’s nothing, Gally.”
He gently reached for your arm before
you could turn away and examined your face.
He sighed. “It happened again, didn’t
“It’s fine Gally. I’m used to it by
now so – “
“Why haven’t you told him yet? This
is getting out of hand. How much longer are you going to hide that you have a
problem? You have to stop this. Stop working with the MedJacks – “
“I can’t Gally. If I don’t do this,
then what am I supposed to do? Work in the garden or kitchen? Or would you
rather I be a slopper?”
should at least know. I know it’s your choice on where you want to be working
but … your condition … how is it?”
You didn’t say anything for a while.
Anything you say would only fuel him even further. But eventually he would find
out. “It’s been getting worse … and showing up in different ways.”
“Different ways? How is that
possible? I thought you just have insomnia.”
“That’s what I thought too but – “
“Well, look who it is,” Gally stated
cutting you off. You turned back and noticed a blonde boy step out of the
Council accompanied by two of the glade’s top runners. He had a curiosity in
his eyes as the runners spoke to him and he replied with such passion and
leadership. You smiled, partially due to the fact that he was yours.
“Here comes your boy toy.”
“Knock it off Gally, he’s practically
“Still, you owe him your allegiance.”
“No, what I owe him is another punch
in that pretty little face of his for tripping me in the ring last night.”
“You mean during those nightly,
wrestling matches? If I remember correctly, you still won. Well, after he
kicked your butt – literally.”
“If he hadn’t pulled that cheap move
“God, what is it with you men? You’re
acting so primitive. Seriously are living during the Caveman Era?”
“We kinda are, Y/N.”
His tone softened and you knew what
he meant. Your past two years within the glade flashed before your eyes in a
matter of seconds. Technology was nonexistent here and that itself placed a
huge damper on your spirit. The lack of music, a warm, comfy bed, a fresh cool
shower, and of course, ice cream on a hot day like this made you wonder what
time period you were truly living in. The gladers had been stripped away of
nearly everything and also, as you recently discovered, possibly your sanity.
“But our living conditions are quite
… acceptable,” he stated breaking the silence.
Your thoughts began to waver for a
minute. “You wish to live a life that’s merely acceptable?” you asked with your
eyes still on Newt, “Don’t you think there’s more to life that that? To
experience new things … to learn new things … to live each day with
genuine happiness?” You turned to face him. “I don’t want to live a life that’s just
acceptable Gally. I believe we all deserve more than that.”
You heard a few footsteps behind you
and you noticed Gally’s expression turn sour. There’s no doubt on who was here.
“Gally,” Newt coldly addressed as he
stood next to you.
“Second-in-command,” Gally shot back
with a smirk on his face.
Newt scoffed. “I do have a name you
“Yeah, whatever,” he replied before
lifting the pile of logs on the ground with ease and leaving the two of you
You instantly whacked his arm when
Gally was out of sight. “Geez, love. What was that for?” Newt asked, flinching
from the pain.
“Would it kill you two to get along
for once?” you asked as you stepped back into the MedJack hut as Newt trailed
He smiled once you two were inside
and kissed your forehead, bringing you to a small hug. “We were fine until you
showed up in the glade.”
“Me? What did I do?”
Newt chuckled. “Your best friend is
“Gally would never – “
Your words were cut short by a
deafening roar that resonated throughout the glade like a ravaging
thunderstorm. Mechanical screeches followed by human screams filled the air. You
A griever arrived in the glade.
Almost instantly, fear filled your
veins and panic plagued your mind causing a surge of violent memories to flash
before your eyes. When the first person you had to treat had died in front of
you, when the youngest Glader of merely 10 years old had forced poisoned
berries down his throat and when you, a fear stricken girl who had lost her
memories, was so close to joining the same fate.
You heard the Gladers cries urging
the monster back into the horrid maze, all while trying to not lose their lives
in the process. That’s when it started. You found yourself gasping for more
oxygen as your breath grew shallow.
No, not again. Not now. Calm down
Y/N. Pull yourself together.
You closed your eyes in an attempt to
relieve your mind from the external stresses provoking your sanity.
Please, no more. Just stop.
“Y/N,” a voice called waking up. You
glanced up to see a pair of warm, brown eyes staring back at you.
“Newt,” you whispered slowly coming
back to reality.
“Are you ok?” he asked placing a hand
on your forehead.
“Y/N,” a voice exclaimed from
outside. Gally burst through the MedJack hut and kneeled by your side. That’s
when you realized that you fell to the floor. You looked up to see Clint, Jeff,
Newt and Gally gazing at you with a worried look in their eyes.
“No worries, I was just a bit
startled. That’s all,” you stated picking yourself up. Gally instantly brought
his arm around your shoulder and helped you sit on a nearby bed. Newt followed cautiously
behind while whispering to Clint and Jeff to bring any casualties to the hut.
They followed his directions with no hesitation and that’s when he turned his
attention back to you.
You realized he was worried and
gently interlaced your fingers with his bringing him closer to you. “I’m fine,
Newt,” you stated with a smile.
Gally rolled his eyes and stared back
out into the glade. “Minho and a few builders were able to push it back into
the glade before the doors shut again. We’re safe, for now at least.”
Newt didn’t respond to him. He
continued to stare at you. “You sure everything is fine?”
You nodded, wrapping your arms around
his waist and embracing him tightly. You looked up at him and whispered, “Nothing
will sway me that easily.” He chuckled and gently ran his fingers through your
Your moment didn’t last long when the
MedJacks burst into the room with a few fear-stricken gladers and an injured builder,
named Jason. You swiftly jumped to your feet and despite the slight dizziness,
you were able to keep your balance and run to their aid.
“Ok, we need to get to work here so
it’s best if you all leave,” Clint stated urging the gladers out the door. Newt
followed closely behind while Gally trailed later while eyeing you accusingly.
Urgh. Why did he have to make you feel so guilty like that?
You immediately started to clean up Jason’s wounds and apply
a bit of aloe to his scratches and cuts. This wasn’t enough to battle the deep
cuts on his legs. You sighed. “Clint, we need to use the medication we get from
our supplies. It’s going to hurt like hell, but we have no choice.”
Clint nodded, understanding the situation. “It’s over at
Council Hall. We unloaded a new batch this morning. I can go get it. You stay
here and look after him. Jeff, check up on the site again on whether we have
any new injured guys.”
Jeff nodded and followed Clint out the hut, leaving you
alone with the builder. You gently brushed his forehead and placed a drenched
towel on his head to keep him from burning up too quickly. You knew you had to
work fast. A simple cut was dangerous out in the glade. Infection was a not an
easy thing to heal, especially when it lead to serious fevers. You steadied
yourself beside him and heard this breath rate pick up rapidly. As he groaned
with pain, his grew more hoarse and rough. It was strange. His face showed no
sign of discomfort. And that’s when you realized, that deep breathing and
raucous voice didn’t come from him.
You turned around to see a severely beaten up runner at the
door. His eyes locked on you as if you were his prey. His skin was a sickly
pale yellow with blotches of purple bruises around his eyes and lips. It
appeared as if he had reawakened from his grave. Despite your fear, it didn’t take
long before you recognized him.
“Ray?” you asked quietly, “A-are you – W-what happened to – “
You didn’t finish your sentence as he instantly lashed out
at you, forcing you to crash head first onto the walls. He immediately pulled
you down to the ground with ease despite your heavy screams and gripped your
throat with an intense hold, triggering you to desperately gasp for more oxygen
for your lungs.
“We are all going to die,” he screamed psychotically, “death
He shook you vigorously while clutching your throat but you
still had some strength left despite the overwhelming pain. You banged
repeatedly against his arms, even going as far as to sinking your nails into
his skin. With the remaining power you had left in your body you used your legs
to kick him severely in the groin and managed to break free from his hold. But it
didn’t last long. When you were back on your legs and aimed desperately for the
door, he immediately threw himself on your ankles and pulled you down once
more. He was on you in seconds and began to choke you again. Your eyes began to
water. Was this it? No one could hear your screams. No one came to help you.
You were left all alone. You finally got you wanted. You were about to leave
this world, in the most cruel way possible.
A heavy slam penetrated through the room and you felt the
heavy body being lifted off of you. Your vision grew blurry and your senses
were numb so you couldn’t tell what was happening. Your mind had other plans
for you. It started up again, those awful images of death, loss and pain. It
became violent, completely enveloping your body into a black hole, spinning out
of control. All the while, you saw grievers approach you with red eyes and a
thirst for blood. Blood which had spilled too much over the past days in the
glade. You saw the gladers who lost their lives approach you slowly questioning
why you didn’t save them.
“Don’t please,” you cried swatting your hands chaotically at
them, “Get away from me! Leave me alone!”
“Hey Gally,” Newt called out after they exited the MedJack
hut. Gally didn’t turn around. It didn’t take a genius to figure what this
conversation was going to be about. Newt sped down the glade until he was in
front of him. “How did you know about Y/N?”
Gally raised his eyebrows as if he had asked him the most
ridiculous question. “Same as you and as everyone else here,” he replied with
an irritation in his voice, “I think we all saw her come up the elevator together.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It’s not my fault for your lack of
“Enough, Gally,” Newt stated with a
stern voice, “How did you know about Y/N a few minutes ago? You were there
immediately like you almost knew she was about to faint.”
Newt instantly shoved him back,
surprised at his own sudden strength. “I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. Just back off,”
Gally exclaimed approaching him with fury in his eyes, “And don’t you ever
think of laying a finger on me again.”
“Damn it Gally, I’m just worried
about her. If you were truly her friend, you would help me understand what is
wrong with her.”
Gally sighed. “That’s not up to me
to tell you.”
“Why? What is she hiding? Why can’t
she bloody tell me?”
“Ask her that yourself. I hate
being a stupid ass middle man.”
“You heard her. She said she was
Gally rolled his eyes. “Stubborn as
“You got that right,” Newt replied
and for second he thought he almost saw Gally smile but then it quickly
vanished as an earsplitting scream escaped from behind.
“Y/N,” Newt exclaimed together with
Gally, he immediately raced towards the MedJack hut. Once they entered the
room, knocking a few medical bottles off their shelves, Newt was shocked to see
the scene before him. An injured runner was attacking the girl he loved
Gally didn’t waste a minute and
immediately pulled the runner off and Newt crouched beside her. A few other
gladers slowly entered the room, curious as to what the situation was. Gally
pinned down the aggressive male and urged the other MedJacks to isolate him
from the others. He was clearly stung, possibly from the attack in the morning.
He turned his attention to his best friend but Newt was already there.
Newt brought his arms towards her face
but she quickly swatted them away while screaming hysterically, “Don’t please. Get
away from me! Leave me alone!”
“Y/N, you need to wake up. It’s me.
It’s Newt, come on,” he said softly while gently cupping her face in his hands,
forcing her to look into his eyes. The warm sensation from his fingers made her
relax a bit. “God, what happened to you?” he asked bringing her into a hug and
running his finger through her hair.
“N-newt,” she whispered, trembling
from the aftershock of the previous event.
“Yeah, I’m here. It’s ok.”
“I’ve been having hallucinations.”
“I kind of realized that,” he
replied with a chuckle. She glanced up and saw Gally smiling back. He gave a
wink and left the room along with the other gladers. When she relaxed, Newt
pulled away and gazed into her eyes.
“Are you really that stubborn that
you couldn’t tell me what was wrong with you? God, this is concerning your
health! If anything happened to you, I swear – “ He faltered. It was as if his
whole world nearly crumbled down on that one moment, where he was at the point
of losing you forever. That small second, when he realized he would no longer
have that optimistic, hopeful aura around him, his heart dropped.
“I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”
“Newt,” she said softly, “I’m so sor
He cut her off with a deep, passionate kiss in
which he poured his whole heart out. The kiss spoke. It was pleading,
desperate, full of anguish and love. She responded, unable to break apart from
him. They were one being, unable to survive without the other. They would have
to face this new challenge ahead of them, but they would never lose sight of
the life they wanted to live. A life as Y/N would say, “of genuine happiness.”