#[[Cannot believe someone else already did this]]

[veitchiin]

Do you think Lucanis blames himself?

For what happened to Rook. Them disappearing into the fade, trying to retrieve the dagger from Ghilan'nain's body.

I mean, he failed in Weisshaupt. He admits to it. Had he only been a little bit more focused. Had he only a little bit more control over Spite. The kill was right there, he was so close he could already see her dead then and there.

But he failed. He failed and the opportunity was gone. Weisshaupt fell for nothing. He could not get payback for Minrathous, in Neve's stead. He could not thank Rook for their help in Treviso. The assassin missed his mark, how many more mistakes can the abomination be afforded before his utility is brought into question? How long until Rook no longer tolerates his presence? How long until his carelessness, his lack of control over Spite, truly harms the team?

But Rook was there. They did not blame him, they did not leave his side, they did not kick him out they did not hate him they did not push him away they did not get angry they did not. Abandon him.

They stayed by him, they supported him. It's thanks to them he could get to the bottom of his inner torment. Thanks to them he and Spite came to understand each other. Somewhat.

Thanks to them that he avenged himself and his family. Thanks to them Treviso was saved from the blighted dragon. Thanks to them Treviso will be able to survive the Antaam.

He owes Rook so much. They were by his side, they helped him and those he cared for. Without asking for anything in return but his presence, and his skills. He owes Rook so much. Rook understood and cared for him. Rook's presence helped him stay grounded. They felt warmer than others. More welcoming than others.

When did it happen? When did Lucanis start caring for Rook so much? They saved him from the Ossuary, and then from himself. They who gave themselves and their trust to him so easily, knowing he was made to kill. Knowing he was an abomination. And they did not pity him. Even after Weisshaupt, they knew he was strong enough and thanks to them he saw it too. And eventually he was strong enough to admit how much he cared. And then he swore not only to kill the gods, any and every god, for Rook but also, perhaps only to himself, to love them the way they had loved him, by protecting them and being by their side.

So then, why did he fail again.

He was the one who had the dagger. He was the one who pierced Ghilan'nain's flesh. Why did he not take the dagger out? Why was he not the one to retrieve it? Why did he not, somehow, warn Rook? He couldn't have known, but he should've. And now Rook is gone. In the fade, somewhere. Without him. If he were stuck in the fade, Rook wouldve found a way to him, to bring him back, or only to be by his side. He cannot. The others are trying, and perhaps he tries to help. But what good can that do? He was made to kill. That is all he does, all he is. And he failed. Ghilan'nain may lie dead but does this even matter? Weisshaupt did not feel like half the failure this does. After Weisshaupt Rook was there. Rook was there, he had not endangered Rook. He had not killed Rook.

But if he had succeeded at Weisshaupt... Would any of this had happened? Perhaps things would have gone differently, the dagger wouldn't have remained inside the evanuris' body? Perhaps someone else would've been trapped? Anyone else, anyone but Rook. Even himself. If the Maker would allow it, Lucanis would without a doubt take Rook's place, wherever they are. If they live.

Surely he doesn't believe they live? Surely he doesn't believe they'll return? Emmrich, Neve and Bellara all together are working tirelessly to retrieve them, does he believe they wouldn't have found Rook already if they were? Rook is gone. Their room is empty. The decorations they left behind have not moved, their wardrobe undisturbed, their absence violently evident.

Does he hope their clothing retained their scent? Does he hope that by sleeping in their room he'll awake in their arms? Does he hope that by brewing their favorite drink he could summon them back? Does he hope anything he could do or think of could make him forget what he lost? That he failed to keep them safe? That by doing exactly what he swore to do, what he was always meant to do, he killed Rook?

Oh, Lucanis. If only you hadn't gotten attached. If only you had kept your distance from them. If only you hadn't fallen in love. If only you hadn't failed back at Weisshaupt. If only they hadn't freed him. If they had left him to rot in his underwater prison, surely someone more competent would've taken his place, at the very least someone who would've actually kept Rook safe. Someone Rook deserved to have by their side. If only.

Now Rook is gone. They will never be a Dellamorte. They will never share a cup of coffee they hate with him, just to try and make him happy. They will never make a joke at an inappropriate time again, not a strongly worded comment or kind gesture. He will not get to take them on Treviso's waters, to see their eyes light up taking in the sight of his home that they helped save. Rook is gone.

If only you had been able to save them.

If only you hadn't failed.

If only.

Do you think Lucanis blames himself for what happened to Rook?

[theabstruseone]

I slept in and just woke up, so here's what I've been able to figure out while sipping coffee:

Twitter has officially rebranded to X just a day or two after the move was announced.

The official branding is that a tweet is now called "an X", for which there are too many jokes to make.

The official account is still @twitter because someone else owns @X and they didn't reclaim the username first.

The logo is 𝕏 which is the Unicode character Unicode U+1D54F so the logo cannot be copyrighted and it is highly likely that it cannot be protected as a trademark.

Outside the visual logo, the trademark for the use of the name "X" in social media is held by Meta/Facebook, while the trademark for "X" in finance/commerce is owned by Microsoft.

The rebranding has been stopped in Japan as the term "X Japan" is trademarked by the band X JAPAN.

Elon had workers taking down the "Twitter" name from the side of the building. He did not have any permits to do this. The building owner called the cops who stopped the crew midway through so the sign just says "er".

He still plans to call his streaming and media hosting branch of the company as "Xvideo". Nobody tell him.

This man wants you to give him control over all of your financial information.

Edit to add further developments:

Yes, this is all real. Check the notes and people have pictures. I understand the skepticism because it feels like a joke, but to the best of my knowledge, everything in the above is accurate.

Microsoft also owns the trademark on X for chatting and gaming because, y'know, X-box.

The logo came from a random podcaster who tweeted it at Musk.

The act of sending a tweet is now known as "Xeet". They even added a guide for how to Xeet.

The branding change is inconsistent. Some icons have changed, some have not, and the words "tweet" and "Twitter" are still all over the place on the site.

TweetDeck is currently unaffected and I hope it's because they forgot that it exists again. The complete negligence toward that tool and just leaving it the hell alone is the only thing that makes the site usable (and some of us are stuck on there for work).

This is likely because Musk was forced out of PayPal due to a failed credit line project and because he wanted to rename the site to "X-Paypal" and eventually just to "X".

This became a big deal behind the scenes as Musk paid over $1 million for the domain X.com and wanted to rebrand the company that already had the brand awareness people were using it as a verb to "pay online" (as in "I'll paypal you the money")

X.com is not currently owned by Musk. It is held by a domain registrar (I believe GoDaddy but I'm not entirely sure). Meaning as long as he's hung onto this idea of making X Corp a thing, he couldn't be arsed to pay the $15/year domain renewal.

Bloomberg estimates the rebranding wiped between $4 to $20 billion from the valuation of Twitter due to the loss of brand awareness.

The company was already worth less than half of the $44 billion Musk paid for it in the first place, meaning this may end up a worse deal than when Yahoo bought Tumblr.

One estimation (though this is with a grain of salt) said that Twitter is three months from defaulting on its loans taken out to buy the site. Those loans were secured with Tesla stock. Meaning the bank will seize that stock and, since it won't be enough to pay the debt (since it's worth around 50-75% of what it was at the time of the loan), they can start seizing personal assets of Elon Musk including the Twitter company itself and his interest in SpaceX.

Sesame Street's official accounts mocked the rebranding.

[earthtooz]

jealous ratio bc i wont him, inspired by the simulated universe occurrence, banter about marriage hehe

"Dr. No. 5 asked me to be his research partner today," you mumble half-heartedly to Veritas. It was an ordinary night, you're curled into his side with your phone in hand, watching the latest series you've been invested in whilst he occupies his mind with a book, held by one hand whilst his other is wrapped around you.

However, when he registers your confession, he tenses, slightly scrunching the pages of his book as the arm around you stiffens, muscles contracting.

"And what did you say?" He asks, feigning collectedness.

"I agreed."

His book slams shut and he shoots upward to a sitting position, baffled by the nonchalance of your tone. How cruel, you have betrayed him in the most despicable of ways, do you not care? Agreeing to be someone else's research partner is akin to that of spitting on his heart and stomping it flat, have you no respect for the laws of academic loyalty (there is no such thing), or is he the only one in your relationship devoted to it?

An idiot. You will be working with an idiot and you somehow see no flaw in that, where is your integrity as his lover?

"What does that fool have that I don't?" He all but cries, yanking your phone from your hands and setting it on his bedside table.

"What are you blabbering about?" You ask, looking up at him with inquisitive eyes, confusion shining in your irises.

"I'm supposed to be your only research partner, I cannot believe that you've gone and betrayed me like this."

"Pray tell, Veritas, how is this a 'betrayal'?"

"I would never choose to be anyone's research partner if I'm not yours, but today I've discovered that my devotion is not only unreciprocated, but unappreciated! How unfathomable."

The purple-haired turns his muscular back to you, giving you the cold shoulder. Slowly you sit up and lean on his toned body, hand resting on his deltoid and you can already see the way he tries to fight the effects of your touch. "Dear, you wouldn't be anyone else's research partner because you think majority of people are 'idiots' and aren't worthwhile academics to invest time into."

"Precisely why I cannot believe that you have agreed to work with No. 5, who is undeniably, irrefutably, and undoubtedly, a simpleton!"

You bite your tongue when it threatens to spill that you think No. 5 is not as bad as Veritas assumes, but that would outrage the scholar even more and you do not want to spend the better half of your day purposefully ruining it.

"The pay was good," you reason, daring to place a kiss to his neck. "But you are still superior in my heart, Veritas. Do not fret, if I am to seek a research partner, you would be my first and only choice."

"How long will your project span for?" He asks begrudgingly.

"6 months of research, writing, and editing. After that, I am not too involved with the publishing process."

"Oh how it stains me picturing your name beside another imbecile's."

You sigh, sitting up straighter to wrap both arms around his neck. "Your name could be beside mine permanently if you got down to one knee and presented me a ring, but alas, perhaps I shall be waiting another few research papers for that to happen."

You can't see the fond smile on his face, but you yelp when he turns around suddenly to push you against the comfort of your mattress, his lips claiming yours.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[wonryllis]

☆ ᵎᵎ ENHYPEN COMING HOME TO FIND YOU ASLEEP.

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen in whipped era 𖥔 ݁ fluff, soft soft softtt LIB? fem!reader word count `719 PLS REBLOG!!

𝗹𝗲𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴 he knows you stay up late waiting for him, this time he finds your figure laid against the soft cushion in a weirdly adorable position. heeseung quietly tiptoes to have a closer look, taking his time to admire your sleeping face. oh he so wishes to keep coming home to you like this. he'd sit beside you and tell you things he could never have said to your face, his deepest thoughts. apologizing for things he could've done better and thanking you for being with him and loving him.

i think i will love you forever, i want to.

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴 he is so used to it, at least he thinks he's so used to it but everytime he comes home to find you passed out on the couch, or on the carpet slightly lolling to the side the book in your hands almost falling off, he feels the same butterflies he did when it first happened. if you aren't in your pajamas already, best believe he'll change you himself, not wanting to disturb your sleep and put you to bed like magic fairy. he'll join you in later, and if you accidentally stir awake he'll put you back to sleep.

shh, go back to sleep love, i'm right here.

𝘀𝗶𝗺 𝗷𝗮𝗲𝘆𝘂𝗻 this guy has a field trip range of emotions upon seeing you asleep after a long day of work. he feels this fuzzy and warm feeling watching the one he loves sleep so peacefully, and on the other hand he's so excited to just join you. if you're on the couch he'll squeeze himself in whatever space he finds and cuddle you into the morning and if you're on the bed, he'll leech onto you leaving more than half the mattress empty while he snuggles into his baby on your side of the bed.

mmm, love having you in my arms like this

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗻 outwardly he's so nonchalant at first, just coming up to your passed out figure and picking you up to get you to the bed, a smile on the tip of his lips. however the moment you nuzzle into him in a soft whine, he's so putty feeling his heart skip beats, his breath staggering like boy is damn smitten. placing you on the bed he'll quietly pull the covers on, a sneaky kiss on the lips and then leave the room to calm himself down, maybe even scream silently a little with the way you get him nervous over nothing.

fuck, she's so damn adorable i'll melt.

𝗸𝗶𝗺 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝘄𝗼𝗼 he'll text you to ask if you're awake and if you don't respond he knows you're out. he'd definitely softly speak about his day even though you're not listening. complimenting you as he always does of how pretty you manage to look all the time. will sing you a bunch of songs if you wake up, holding you close and tracing over your features, smiling so wide all the tiredness of the day washes away. also makes sure to wake up before you to again admire your sleeping face.

you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗴 𝗷𝘂𝗻𝗴𝘄𝗼𝗻 asleep or not, jungwon is always careful when he walks through the door, softly opening and closing it. tiptoeing inside as quietly as he possibly can, and when he spots you asleep on the couch he'll put everything down to bring you to bed. carrying you like the most precious thing, laying you on the mattress and immediately leaning over to leave kisses all over. if you stir awake he's getting in and cuddling you back to sleep, hands caressing your head gently.

it's just me baby, you looked so cute couldn't help it.

𝗻𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗿𝗶𝗸𝗶 will absolutely not switch on anything or make any sound and obviously will carry you to bed if you're passed out somewhere else. he'll kinda avoid looking at your face, until he cannot help it and god help him because once he does he'll be glued, eyes staring non stop. he can't believe someone so beautiful loves him, and all these complicated emotions come at once. he's overwhelmed and so whipped, he'd play around with your hair deep in these thoughts until sleep comes to him too.

how did i manage to have someone like you?

taglist ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz

[modanisgf]

SO HIGHSCHOOL , HANNI PHAM

“you know how to ball, i know aristotle!”

✎ SYNOPSIS — in which hanni falls for the captain of the basketball team, despite you two being complete opposites.

✎ PAIRING(S) — yearbook/newspaper student!hanni x athlete!reader

✎ WARNING(S) — blood mentioned, injuries, kissing, lowkey rushed i wanted to get it out for her birthday 😭

a/n— ily yearbook girlie hanni pham!! also happy birthday hanni

it was unreal to haerin how her best friend had fallen in love with y/n. hanni pham of all people was deeply in love with you, someone who barely even looked her way. hanni even showed up to all your games making the excuse that it was so she could take photos for the school newspaper, but everyone knew it was just for you.

it was one of those days right now actually, hyein and haerin sighing as they accompanied hanni to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.

you and your teammates were currently strategizing, the other team calling a timeout as your team was up by forty points.

“han what even is interesting about this, every game y/n makes like five threes and carries her team to victory. nothing else ever happens.” hyein complains, making hanni roll her eyes.

“and then she gaslights herself into thinking y/n shot them all for her.” haerin says, making hanni side eye her.

“all you guys do is complain,” hanni groans, “also i do not gaslight myself?! she really does shoot them for me.” hanni says.

“you’re insane.” haerin says simply, making hanni come back to reality.

“my bad.” hanni mutters, grabbing her camera again as the timeout concluded.

the girl had an insane amount of photos already, some of your best plays coming from this game. it was concerning how much of cameo you made in each new issue of the newspaper, it was actually something you noticed recently but you brushed it off and just thought you were having a good season.

you were running down the court waiting for a pass when a bright flash blinded you, making you groan. you looked up to see three girls in the stands, scrambling and yelling at each other. two of them were yelling at the girl with a camera on her neck, the girl having her hand over her mouth in shock.

“hanni you cannot be serious right now.” hyein deadpanned, looking at her older friend.

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WOULD DO THAT?” hanni says, her hand quickly making its way to cover her mouth.

she would never recover from this, she looked down to see if you noticed just to see you staring directly at her making her heart drop.

“hyein.”

“hanni?”

“look.”

“oh my god.”

“i blinded the love of my life.” hanni says, sinking down into her seat.

“how do you manage to ruin everything.” haerin says, making hanni roll her eyes and ignore her friend.

your teammate hadn’t realized you weren’t paying attention, the girl throwing the ball to you for an easy shot. her jaw dropped when she saw you fall to the ground, the ball leaving a big red mark on your face.

the ref blew his whistle, calling a timeout in which all of your teammates ran towards you to figure out what happened.

“y/n what are you doing?!” yujin shouts, anger laced throughout her voice.

you didn’t even understand the girl as you just barely woke up from your small sleep, causing you to touch your head and feel blood.

“ah shit.” you curse, the pressure of your hand sending pain coursing through your body.

“y/n did you hear me?! what the hell are you doing?” yujin repeats, your other teammates concerned.

“yujin..” was all you could mutter before you saw black. you knew it was over, this was most definitely your last game of the season.

back up in the stands hanni couldn’t believe her eyes, all because of her stupid camera flash you were now injured.

“hanni, you actually just may have made the most insane fuck up of all time.” haerin says.

“i genuinely have no words.” hanni says, her eyes trained on you as your teammates carry you out the gym. the match even had to be finished early, with the lead your team had it didn’t even matter much.

if hanni even thought she had any chance with you before, it was most definitely gone now. she didn’t even know how she fucked up this bad.

—

the next day hanni anxiously tapped her fingers against her usual lunch table, danielle and minji confused at her unusual antics.

nobody knew what y/n was looking at while she was distracted, so it was a complete mystery to the two girls what had happened yesterday.

“hanni, are you good?” minji asks, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“yeah! just anxious about my spanish test.” hanni lies quickly, looking around after like she was being interrogated for a crime.

“um okay..” minji says, she knew there was no spanish test today (they had the same class..) but she chose to not question any further.

a small conversation picked up between dani and hyein, haerin sometimes chiming in with minji. hanni couldn’t even focus, she was so unbelievably worried about you.

hanni couldn’t get image of you on the ground out of her head, a lingering feeling of guilt following her everywhere. thankfully she had yet to see you, she knew she would probably break down.

hanni was also nervous that you would confront her, tell her that she ruined your life or that she was awful but she knew you wouldn’t. that was what drew her towards you. regardless of how your friends and teammates acted, you were the kindest person ever. whenever a new issue came out you would compliment her on her work, as hanni usually worked on the sports section alone. it was a simple gesture really, but coming from you it meant the world to hanni.

in conclusion the girl was smitten with you, and she wanted nothing more than to know you were okay.

—

hanni knew it was stupid. but she let herself walk into the nurses office, where you currently were getting checked on.

hanni thought it would be fine, considering they had a student nurse at the moment who she knew well. she walked in and greeted her friend, the older boy smiling at her.

“hi hanni.” huening kai greets the girl quickly, before turning back his attention to your wound.

“oh sorry kai, i didn’t know you still had someone in here.” hanni apologizes, knowing well she knew you were in there.

you stared at hanni in disbelief, you couldn’t really see her when you were on the court so her beauty amazed you. maybe it was okay that she blinded you, and also sort of caused you a major injury.

“no worries hanni! i actually need to go grab something from the main office really quickly, can you watch y/n for me?” kai says, to which hanni nods almost immediately.

“thanks! y/n keep your head down.” kai commands, noticing the way you sat up to look at hanni.

“oh yeah, sorry..” you mutter, laying back down slowly as kai left.

there was a moment of silence, before you sat up almost immediately alarming hanni.

“y/n you’re gonna—“ hanni starts, being cut off by you.

“it was you, wasn’t it.” you say eerily, further examining hanni’s face.

“huh?” hanni questions, her heart dropping to her ass. she didn’t think you would acknowledge it.

“it’s okay hanni!” you retort quickly, noticing the change in the girls demeanor.

“next time just wait until i actually make the shot.” you tease her, making hanni groan.

“it was really an accident i’m so so so so so so so sorry.” hanni mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.

“it’s fine hanni, your photos are actually really good. i use them on insta all the time.” you reassure the girl, taking her hand in yours making her unbelievably nervous.

“you do?” hanni says dumbfoundedly. (she actually knew that, she loved scrolling through your instagram, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“yeah, i mean you manage a whole section of the newspaper yourself for a reason. you always manage to catch my good side, it’s actually kind of scary.” you say, making hanni smile nervously.

“i just pay close attention you know, i love basketball!” hanni lies through her teeth, she didn’t know shit about basketball she just liked watching you play.

“oh really? who’s your favorite player?” you ask.

“um… lebron james?” hanni admits quietly, looking away in embarrassment at the way you burst out into laughter at her response.

“wow, you seem very well versed on basketball ms pham.” you say, still giggling at how unsure she sounded giving her response.

“i just— oh shut up.” hanni deadpans, noticing that you were now teasing her on purpose.

silence filled the room once again, causing you to lock eyes with hanni. you finally got to see her in all her glory, your eyes slowly scanning her face until they stopped at her lips.

she looked so kissable in that moment to you, the thought of her making you smile. what hanni didn’t know is that you were actually obsessed with her too, you’re teammates hated you for it always calling her the pretty girl in the stands.

you looked back up to see hanni staring at your lips too, making you ask a question on impulse.

“can i kiss you?”

another beat of silence, making you nervous.

“please.”

you wrap your arms around hanni’s neck, crashing your lips onto hers as she held your waist. you knew kai would be back soon but you didn’t care, you had been waiting forever for this.

the two of you only pulled away for air, addicted to the feeling of your lips on each others. though every good thing comes to an end, the two of you jumping at the sound of the door opening.

kai stood there dumbfounded, “you know what, i’m not even gonna ask.”

“um, y/n you’re free to go! after you’re done with whatever..” kai says, smiling awkwardly.

he quickly closed the door making you laugh, hanni hiding in the crook of your neck.

“never again.” she mutters into your neck.

“you sure?”

“shut up."

[teaboot]

While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.

Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.

If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.

This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.

As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:

"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."

"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."

"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."

"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."

"I must have been wrong."

This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:

"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"

"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."

"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"

Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.

You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.

The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:

Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.

A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.

Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.

Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.

The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:

Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.

Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.

Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.

Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.

Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)

Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)

I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.

I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".

('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)

[1d1195]

Honey II

Read Honey here | ~6.2k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff, pining, maybe a daddy-kink if you don't blink. There's a shitty guy, some jealous Harry (from said shitty guy as well as NIALL 😍) and some mentions of self-care 😉

Summary: You cannot flirt with my nanny. He texted Niall while Cece ate.

Someone should, Harry. By all means YOU should. But I’ll handle it if you cannot.

Harry scowled and threw his phone aside. “Sorry m’gonna kill Uncle Niall, Cece,” he told her. “But he’s stupid.”

The routine became easy. Breakfast with Harry, tummy time with Cece, cleaning during naptime, laundry at lunch time. At eleven in the morning, she sent Harry three pictures of his baby regardless of what she was doing which he didn’t respond to other than reacting with a heart to each of the pictures.

Cece loved Miss Honey. Her smile was bright when she saw her and her giggle was coming easier and easier while she played with her.

Niall is stopping by to grab something I left. He was already out. You can let him in.

Okay, thank you for the heads up.

Other than delivery drivers, people didn’t really come by. She hadn’t had friends over not that she necessarily wanted to have them over... not after her first family. From then, it was always kind of weird to have people visit someone else’s home to hang out with her. She preferred dinners or going to their houses. If Harry were to throw a party or cookout at his extravagant pool, she would invite her friends—at least that’s what she did with her previous family—but Harry didn’t seem much like a party-thrower.

“Hello?” The Irish voice sang into the house. “Miss Cece, where are you?” He called.

She smiled and brought the baby toward the front door holding her in front of her stomach. Cece giggled at the sight of Uncle Niall. “Who’s that, Cece?” She asked pressing her lips on to the top of her soft hair. “Is that Uncle Niall? Did Uncle Niall come to see you?” She kicked her feet and Niall looked like he was melting as he took her from Miss Honey. “Is it this folder?” She asked. “I found it in the garage,” she said. “It must have slipped out of his bag. When I took Cece to the store, I was going to swing by myself."

Niall was in awe. The house was clean—to be fair, it almost always was, but it was different now. Plus it smelled like the citrusy fall candle she was burning on the counter; only adding to the fresh clean feeling of his friend’s place. Whatever was cooking in the oven smelled delicious. “Do you... cook for him?” Niall asked.

She blushed. “Well, it’s mainly for me, but obviously there aren’t a ton of recipes for one person, so I always have extra,” she rationalized. “I cooked for my old family.”

Niall bounced Cece as he looked around. There was a throw blanket on the sofa adorned with leaves and it’s fall y’all patterned across it. that wasn’t there before. Along with some fall pillows. It matched the little pumpkins on the side tables and the leaf and flower centerpiece on the coffee table. Harry had decorations? “Did Harry buy those throw pillows?”

“I... I have this tendency to fall asleep on the sofa watching movies and wanted something softer than the sofa arm,” she felt weird explaining all this to Niall. “I should probably get them out of here and back in my room. Did Harry say something? He doesn’t like it?”

Harry hadn’t mentioned it. Which was insane because when Cece’s mom wanted all new living room furniture in the middle of her pregnancy, Niall wasn’t sure Harry was going to let her live at his house after all. Harry was very particular and liked things to be his way. “No, no. He’s fine. It just looks...cozy,” he said. “It’s nice he’s got a woman’s touch that he likes,” Niall said encouragingly.

Her phone vibrated on the counter and she glanced at her watch reading the message. Can you tell Niall to let go of my daughter and get his ass back here before I fire him?

She smiled sending a thumbs up in response. “I believe you’re going to be fired.”

“What a drama queen,” Niall muttered. “I love you more than Dada does,” he cooed and kissed Cece sweetly on the cheek. “You should decorate the outside, too,” Niall said as he handed the baby back to her. “Harry would like it,” he smiled. “If you have a ton of leftovers, send them for lunch with Harry tomorrow. With the way it smells, I bet it would taste delicious reheated as well... Bye Cece!” He waved and blew a kiss at her.

“Say bye Uncle Niall,” she cooed shaking her head at Harry’s best friend.  She waved Cece’s hand for her. “Bye Uncle Niall.”

*

His office door slapped open against the wall, and he looked up from his desk even though he didn’t need to.

“Niall’s here,” his secretary called. He rolled his eyes.

“You love her,” Niall gushed.

“I do not,” Harry scowled defensively at his paperwork in front of him. “Love who?”

“Your nanny obviously.”

“I absolutely do not,” he shook his head. “I am not in love with someone I employ.”

“So we’re not in love either?” Niall frowned.

“Do you have something you need, Mr. Horan?” Harry deadpanned.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Harry, she’s sweet, funny, and intelligent,” he listed. “Not to mention your house has never looked cleaner nor cozier and she can cook.”

Harry used to order out each night since he was too tired to cook when he got home. Then with Cece, it made even more sense. But now, since he was very much glued to his schedule of coming home on time for dinner so he could see Cece before bed and relieve Miss Honey of her duties for the evening.

He hadn’t anticipated her making dinner for him. In fact, he hadn’t anticipated much of anything she did for him. He thought taking care of Cece was going to be it. The cleaning and cooking was beyond what he expected.

He ignored Niall.

“And hello? She’s good with Cece.”

She was great with Cece actually. But he wasn’t going to give into Niall’s teasing. He continued looking at his computer screen ignoring all the reasons Harry thought she was perfect as well but had to ignore because he would rather die than ruin what he had with her for the sake of his daughter. There was no one better to trust Cece with—even after a month or so of her working, it was obvious. He was so sure there wasn’t anyone better. “Also, she was going in the pool when I got there, so she was in this itty, bitty bikini—” Harry’s gaze snapped to Niall and his eye twitched as he scowled again. “I was joking, but I think I’ve proven my point.”

“I’m not in love,” he grumbled. Harry didn’t love anyone beyond his baby girl, his company, and his family.

“Say it all you want. But I’m not the one that got his underwear in a twist over the thought of seeing her in a bikini when it’s not summer anymore." Harry ignored him still. "You let her decorate," he reminded him.

"We have similar tastes," Harry mumbled not wanting to let on that he didn't give two shits if the house was decorated but when he came home from work watching her sip hot apple cider on his sofa and reading a book to Cece, he wanted to move to a place where it was fall all year round.

"Are you going to let her decorate the outside of your house for Halloween?”

He was not in love. “It’s a holiday,” he reminded Niall. “I want Cece t'have a—”

“Uh-huh. Sure. It’s definitely for Cece... by the way, make sure I get the leftovers from dinner tomorrow. I already asked Miss Honey,” he said. “Here’s your folder,” he laid it on his desk and left with a wave and mischievous smile. "She found it in the garage and was going to swing by herself. Because in case you haven't noticed, she's perfect."

If there were leftovers of whatever delicious thing she had decided to cook, Harry was going to throw them in the middle of the road on his way to work just to spite him.

*

The weekend was unfortunately eventful.

Cece fussed a ton. Harry sighed when the monitor alerted him to her waking. He got up and headed to her crib where he spent several minutes rubbing her little belly as he watched her. “Y’need t’sleep, Miss Cecelia,” he smiled at her tiredly. It was nearly one in the morning, and he had been fortunate enough to have Cece sleeping soundly overall for the last couple months. But for whatever reason, her little cries woke him up today.

He checked his phone and noted there was an alert from the front door camera. He saw two people standing under the entrance. His favorite nanny and a man that he didn’t recognize.

Given the situation, this was suddenly and very much her house as much as Harry's. As evident by the pumpkin décor on the steps visible in the video as well. So she could do what she wanted. Even if that meant going on a date.

Even if that meant Harry was painfully aware of how upset that made him.

Her arms were wrapped around her stomach and Harry felt something painful ache in his stomach. She looked completely uncomfortable. The guy leaned closer toward her, forcing her to step back until she was against the side of the entryway. Harry’s blood boiled. She pressed a hand against his chest, maintaining distance between them. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the screen and briefly noted he forgot about Cece’s waking. But Cece was asleep again. Therefore, Harry was able to worry about the other woman that lived in his house. He quickly sent her a text before he kept his eyes glued to the camera. If this was some kind of flirting thing, fine. He would confront the boiling jealousy in the comfort of his own bed. But Harry had a sister, female friends, female employees and now a daughter. He knew when someone was uncomfortable.

The camera signaled someone was outside, so I checked the feed... Are you okay?

He didn't want to listen in. There was a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross. Fortunately, she pulled her phone from her pocket and read the message--clearly looking for a distraction and further fueling his worry. Without answering, she tucked her phone back in her pocket and Harry thought that he was overreacting. She was fine. He just needed to go to bed.

But then, she shook her head repeatedly, slowly.

Harry dropped his phone on Cece’s floor where it landed on the rug with a quiet thud. He took off downstairs nearly missing the last step before he was at the front door, yanking it out of the way blindingly fast. She jumped at the sudden movement in the middle of the night—even though she only saw Harry’s message seconds before. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” he lied. He was very grateful to interrupt. “Cece has been awake, and I’ve tried—”

“No problem,” she rushed out not even glancing at the man. She brushed passed Harry hurriedly.

The guy blinked in surprise at her quick departure. He tried to peek behind Harry’s frame that blocked most of his view. “I’ll call—”

Harry smacked the door shut and waited for him to leave—watched him walk to the end of the driveway where he waited for an Uber for three minutes. She sighed, putting her hands on the back of her head, breathing heavily. “Harry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She began pacing behind him, but Harry’s eyes didn’t move from the end of his driveway. “He was completely fine and then I needed to Uber and—”

“I told you not t’Uber,” he scowled at the window beside the door waiting for the man to disappear.

“Well, it was one in the morning, and I don’t know how your driver situation works—”

“Then you call me,” his voice was rougher than he wanted it to be. The thought of something happening to her hurt. Hurt a lot.

She ignored him, feeling guilty but trying to explain her side of things. “My friend had left with a guy she met, and she was my ride. I didn’t even know she left,” her voice cracked. “I Uber all the time, Harry. Alone at night, I don’t care...it’s... whatever... But he was insistent. He wanted to make sure I made it home safely. Which didn’t set off any alarm bells and I pride myself on having a good gauge of that kind of thing. So, I didn’t think anything of it. I thought he was just being a gentleman. When he got out of the car and the driver took off...” she shook her head. “I’m just so sorry. I didn’t know—” Her voice cracked again, harsher this time. Then she pressed her lips into a line as she looked down. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered trying to force the tears to stay behind her lids.

The man was gone from the edge of his driveway. Harry shook his head confused how she could be apologizing for literally nothing. She didn’t do anything wrong. “What are y’apologizing for?”

“For him coming back here! I don’t bring people back to the house I’m living in for free. I would never want to put someone like that within a three-mile radius of Cece. I was just trying to get him to leave and I—” her voice choked off again.

“Love,” he said gently. “S’okay,” he promised reassuringly. “Y’can invite friends over. I wouldn’t really want him, but it sounds like we’re on the same page.”

She sniffled, breaking Harry’s heart. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated.

“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked. She shook her head. “I need a verbal answer, love.”

“No, he didn’t hurt me,” she whispered. Barely loud enough for him to hear.

“You’re sure?”

She nodded. “I was just trying to think of a way to get inside without him following me,” she whimpered. “He just wouldn’t shut up about how nice it would be to...” her tears started to flow. She shook her head. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

Harry didn’t think. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed up and down her back. “S’okay,” he promised. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “You could have banged on the door or something,” he assured her.

She sniffled. “I didn’t want to wake the baby.”

He smiled softly. Of course she didn’t. “Please call the driver next time. Day or night. I should’ve told y’that,” he murmured. “It would make me feel better. And he’ll only let y’have someone else in the car with you if y’say so,” he promised.

She nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re allowed t’have a life here, love,” he promised. “Friends, dates, whatever y’want.”

“Well, I’m not dating for a while,” that was fine by Harry. Gently, she pulled from Harry’s embrace, and he felt completely cold. It wasn’t from his lack of clothes either.

She wiped her eyes. “Do y’want me to...get y’anything?” He asked.

She shook her head of the thought. “No, I’m sorry to have interrupted your sleep—”

“Don’t be. But y’didn’t. Cece was up, I was checking on her when I saw m’phone’s notification,” he explained. “But even if she wasn’t up... I wouldn’t have minded,” he promised. “Really.”

Her eyes trailed over Harry’s body. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was wearing nothing but boxers. His shoulders were broad, his arms were taut with lean muscles that didn’t bulge massively but were still beautifully sculpted. His hair was in disarray, probably from his pillow. His stomach was flat, ridged with muscles, and covered with tattoos. “I didn’t realize you had so many tattoos.”

He smirked. “Yeah, um...guilty pleasure of mine.”

Harry really shouldn’t say pleasure around her. It made her think of things that would give her immense pleasure. Like the boxers that outlined a plump dick (which wasn’t even fully hard it seemed. Jesus Christ, she wondered if she was going to get pregnant just from looking at it) and showed off his muscular thighs. She shook her head trying to keep her eyes focused on anything other than Harry’s groin area. “I um... thank you,” she whispered. “For getting me.”

“Of course, love. Any time,” he promised. “I know y’work for me and I respect your commitment and seriousness t’your job. It’s something I value in m’employees at the office too. But Niall also works with me too and he’s m’best friend and he’s very comfortable asking me t’bail him out of dicey situations. So if y’need something, y’jus’ have t’ask.”

She nodded. “Okay... thank you,” she repeated. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Miss Honey.”

*

Harry was frustrated. It was a busy time of year, so he had been staying an hour, sometimes two later than he was supposed to. He ate reheated food that she had cooked (which was still delicious) but mostly he was upset because he wasn’t getting to see Cece before bed. The pictures she sent in the afternoon and just before bed helped but didn’t make up for the real thing. He missed his daughter.

And honestly? If he was real with himself, he missed eating dinner with the pretty woman that was kind enough to make dinner in the first place. He missed watching an episode of whatever show she liked before she went for a swim in the pool and then to read in her room. Up until Harry had started staying late, she had gone for a swim every night and Harry was in awe. The pool was heated sure, but the air was cold. But she was insistent—all to get her laps in so she could work out. Now, when he got home, she was already in her room. Only coming out to say hello, give the lowdown on bedtime and making sure he knew which food was for Niall the next morning.

It seemed she wasn’t dating, so at least Harry had that. Even though he told her she could, he was glad she wasn't. It wasn’t right or fair of him to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it. The few times he saw her out in the pool in a bathing suit (that was not an itty-bitty bikini like Niall had described) he felt possessive. If she had an itty-bitty bikini, Harry thought he might lose his mind--the pretty one piece with a cutout created by a crisscrossing bow around her middle was tantalizing enough. He didn’t let his gaze linger for long (he didn’t want to be creepy) but he thought back to the guy that followed her home and terrified her. No one deserved her kindness. No one deserved to see her vulnerable and alone in anything less than what she wanted. She made Cece feel safe. She made Harry feel safe.

“Why don’t you go home?” Niall suggested. “You’ve been staying late all week, and I know you miss Cece. Take a half day, go spend some time with your daughter. Or even Miss Honey,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Harry shook his head. “I already took a ton of time off—”

“For a very good reason! Harry,” Niall sighed. “You have an adorable baby daughter. She’s only going to be little for so long. You need to enjoy it.”

With that thought, Harry couldn’t get out of his office fast enough. He entered the house using the keycode. It didn’t even faze her. If someone used the code, then she assumed it was someone who was allowed to be there. But also, the sound of the vacuum cleaner was humming and creating more noise than she could have heard with the door opening and closing. But she must have sensed it because she glanced over her shoulder and smiled finishing the spot she was working on. Harry could make out the wrap around her body while she vacuumed. Wearing Cece like a body ornament. It was adorable. “I could hire someone for that, y’know,” he called over the droning noise.

She turned the vacuum off and turned around showing off the little babe at the same time. She kicked her feet. Harry thought his heartstrings were going to snap with how much love flooded him. Someone that loved him so unconditionally. It felt like he didn’t deserve it.

“You’re home early,” she smiled and loosened the wrap around her and pulled the headphones off her little head to keep her ears safe from the vacuum sound. “Is Dada home to play, Cece?” She smiled excitedly. “Is Dada here to play?” She repeated, passing her to Harry. Cece immediately settled into his embrace, making his heart hurt. Niall was right, this was well worth it.

“I was just going to do laundry,” she said. “Do you want anything to eat?” She asked.

“I have people who could do your laundry,” he told her, his lips attached to the crown of Cece’s head. “And y’don’t need t’do my laundry either,” he frowned. “Or Cece’s.”

“Yes, but you are saving money by letting me do it. I’m all about coupons. I’m like a BOGO sale, you know? For a business owner, you don’t see a good deal when presented.”

He rolled his eyes. Niall listed a lot of great qualities about her. But he didn’t list how stubborn she was. Especially when it came to things like using the driver or doing his laundry. Harry wanted to shake her sometimes.

“Niall said you have a business trip next weekend?”

His eyes snapped to meet hers. “You talk to Niall?” Like regularly? Casually?

He was so going to fire him.

“Yes,” she smiled and then laughed to herself, a private joke Harry wasn't privy to.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. Niall’s just funny.”

Harry was going to kill him. Then fire him.

“Oh?”

“He just he tells me he’s going to marry me if I keep making such good food for him to eat.”

So fired.

“Speaking of,” she continued while Harry let that linger in silence. “Little miss needs to eat,” she said. “I can do it if you want—”

“Thank you,” he was sincerely appreciative. “But I have it covered,” he smiled. “You can take the rest of the afternoon to yourself if you’d like.”

She smiled. “That would be great. I just have a few more things to do but I’ve been dying to go to the bookstore. They’re having a sale on all paperbacks,” her eyes glowed.

Harry smiled. “Sounds lovely.”

“Just shout if you need something.”

Harry went to the kitchen, took the bottle that was warmed and ready on the counter (she must have just put it out while she was vacuuming nearby).

You cannot flirt with my nanny. He texted Niall while Cece drank from her bottle.

Someone should, Harry. By all means YOU should. But I’ll handle it if you cannot.

Harry scowled and threw his phone aside at the pretty fall throw pillows. “Sorry m’gonna kill Uncle Niall, Cece,” he told her. “But he’s stupid.”

*

Harry often found himself defaulting to her and all her knowledge. She had a background in psychology, as that was what she studied in college—a concentration in child development. All of which he knew from her application. Harry was well educated, but he would never feign to have more knowledge that he didn’t have.

Which is why when Cece continued to fuss and fuss more than she had since she’d been born, Harry didn’t know what to do.

“Love?” He knocked on the door. It was two in the morning, and she was obviously well off the clock. Harry battled for several minutes trying to decide if it was worth it. He didn't want to bother her, but frankly, he was exhausted. But she answered anyway, hurriedly.

She was wearing a pair of leggings and a blue tank top. One that was thin and made Harry’s stomach ache with desire. Something lower ached with desire too. But fortunately, he had enough foresight to put on a pair of sweats before waking her. She rubbed her eye looking like a toddler coming to their parents’ bedroom. Her hair tie had fallen from her braid letting the strands fall haphazardly out of the twist.

He thought about kissing her. God he shouldn’t have allowed himself to be alone in the middle of the night with her.

Gratefully, Cece called out. Reminding him of why he had woken her up in the first place.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you check on her? She’s so fussy. I don’t know if m’doing something wrong?” It killed him that the baby was fussing. He hated to wake her almost as much. However, she didn’t even bat an eye to it and hurried to Cece’s room. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t be,” she yawned. “I was... actually reading,” she smiled. “I shouldn’t be, but I can’t put the book down.”

How was that so hot sounding? It shouldn’t have been. He had watched her read on the couch a hundred times. But it was hot. So hot he was glad there was an extra layer to hide how it made him feel.

Harry was glad he was going away for the weekend. He needed to clear his head of the pretty girl that was invading his every thought when he had no right to think of her that way. “Oh yeah, Miss Cece just wants to party, huh, sweet girl?” She smiled and pulled her from the crib and hummed. “Daddy has to work early tomorrow, Cece. can have our own party tomorrow, okay? But Daddy’s got to sleep,” she whispered. “I know you’re a party girl,” she cooed. “But you can’t party when you’re sleepy,” she reminded her.

Harry was not thinking of it like that but the way she said Daddy (twice) made his chest ache with something he wasn’t used to feeling. It probably didn’t help that her tank top did little to hide two hardened, protruding bumps on her chest that made Harry want to lick his lips (and her). He was going to turn the heat up before bed because it must have been chilly.

Harry tried to keep his gaze PG, but she was so pretty, he was thanking himself for the moment of clarity he had that made him put on pants because he wouldn’t be able to hide the way he felt about seeing her sleepy and beautiful.

Fuck Niall and his stupid observations. He is so fired when I get back from my trip.

After a few more hums and coos, Cece fell back to sleep. She kissed her hair and gently laid her back in the crib. “She’s almost four months, of course—she might be hitting a little sleep regression. It’s perfectly normal. I’ll do some research and see what I can do to help alleviate—”

“Thank you,” he felt exhausted. Sleep deprived and sad about leaving—even if it was just for the weekend. “Seriously. Thank you.”

She smiled. “Of course, Harry. That’s what I’m here for. Probably a good time to stop my book too,” she reached out and squeezed his arm. “Get some sleep. I’ll have breakfast in the morning before you fly out,” she promised.

“I didn't mean t'interrupt your book,” he said softly. “Y'don’t have t'get up earlier, she can lay in bed for a bit,” he offered.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I’ll just nap when she naps,” she shrugged. "Cece will want to see you before you leave," she smiled so effortlessly. Like Cece would really know if he was gone. But the way she said it made him believe it. She squeezed Harry's forearm. “Goodnight, Harry,” she said sweetly.

*

Harry was staring at Cece like she was going to disappear while he fed her. She gently pushed the cup of tea she made him (with three sugars) in front of him. “I haven’t left her once for this long,” Harry reminded her.

“I know,” she frowned. “She’ll be fine,” she assured him.

“I know.”

“Really, Harry. I won’t let anything happen to her. I love her beyond belief,” she promised.

But Harry felt something creep into his stomach. Something that felt like an overwhelming urge to kiss her. A way that had him aching to make Cece a sibling and he thought that maybe he could shift the real estate in his heart that was reserved for his company and open it for someone else. He shook his head as if a bug had flown in his eye. Ridding himself of the unrealistic thought that was wriggling it's way into ever inch of his mind.

No, he didn’t love her.

That would be ridiculous.

It took her two weeks to figure out what Harry liked to eat for breakfast most. As stubborn as Harry was, she was more so. Every day she made something new: omelets, waffles, French toast, everything he could think of, she tried. But when she told him she was going to make crepes, he stopped her and told her: just scrambled eggs and toast.

So, she made him scrambled eggs, toast, and sliced up some avocado on the side. “Thank you, love. Y'really didn’t need to.”

“I have it on good authority you rarely eat until like two in the afternoon if I don’t feed you,” she smiled. “Happy to help,” she promised. Because that’s what she did. Helped and helped and helped.

“Why don’t y’tell your friend m’going t’fire him if y’don’t stop talking t’him.”

She laughed and Harry enjoyed the sound more than he thought possible. “Niall?! Shouldn’t you fire me?”

He shook his head. “No way, love. You’re the best there is for Cece, you’re stuck here,” he smirked. Her heart fluttered and she realized she hadn’t spoken as Harry glanced at her. He cleared his throat. “I mean... as long as you like it here,” he attempted to recover (poorly).

“I love it here,” she nodded excitedly. That beautiful smile that Harry had honed in on during her interview spread across her beautiful face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you,” he smiled. Genuinely.

It took every ounce of Harry’s shaky control to keep himself from saying he would miss her too, while he was gone. Maybe as much as he would miss Cece.

*

It was only a two-night stay. But the first night was hardest. He called as soon as his last meeting finished. He watched her play with Cece through the video call. When her phone died, it took five minutes for her to get rebooted. She grabbed her laptop to continue the call and set it up on the floor for Harry to see Cece during her tummy time.

Cece didn’t seem to notice much that Harry was on the computer screen. In fact, she didn’t pay much attention to either of them while they chatted at all. Even when Cece fell asleep, he found himself asking her all kinds of questions about school and work. How she decided to become a nanny and the like. He asked about her family and if she missed them. Her family was still hours and hours away from her, so he was confused as to why she wouldn’t move with the previous family she nannied for.

“Truthfully?” She sighed. “I love this coast so much,” she smiled fondly. “I grew up here and I went to school here. I loved my nanny family, but there’s just something about it here,” she explained. “My family kind of... they don't..." she sighed. "They don't visit much and I think they would come up to visit even less if I lived across the country. I adore my family. They mean so much to me. It would have been hard to be even further away from them.”

Harry wanted to hold her and never let go. This woman loved hard. Harder than anyone he knew.

Eventually, when it was so much later than it should have been to be chatting on the phone with someone he was employing to take care of his daughter, without talking about said daughter, Harry said goodnight and got ready for bed. As he brushed his teeth, he opened his text messages.

Niall...

Yes, Harry? It’s eleven and I’m in bed.

... she’s perfect.

Who Cece?

...

No shit, Harry. You’re an idiot.

When Harry closed his eyes, he couldn’t help but think of her.

*

When Harry returned home, he rushed through the door, dropping his bags and hurrying to the living room. Harry was on the floor beside the coffee table where he showered Cece in kisses all over her little face. The only pause he had was looking at the lovely girl giggling on the couch at their reunion. “Ugh, Cece, you’re making me jealous! I wish someone would be that happy to see me when they get home,” she giggled.

But Harry couldn’t let her think that for a moment longer. He crossed the room, pulled the book from her hands and straddled her, locking her in place. He cupped her face before she could question anything and kissed her. Kissed her long and hard. Eventually he nestled his hips between her thighs. “I like you so much. I’m so happy t’see you when I get home,” he groaned peppering her face and skin with more kisses. “I trust you with everything. You have my whole world most of the day. And... when I get home m’so happy t'see Cece. But love, m’thrilled t'see you as well”

“Harry,” she whispered. “She’s right there."

“She's not looking,” his voice was husky as he pulled on the neck of the blue tank top that stared in all his dreams. He tugged it down her chest a bit hoping to see those pretty, hardened—

The phone call waking him up for the day put him nearly in a cold sweat. “Ugh,” he moaned reaching blindly for the nightstand for the phone. He pulled the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He grumbled.

“Hello, Mr. Styles this is your wake-up cal—”

He smacked the phone back into the receiver and begged for the dream to come back before it went away. What was underneath that tank top? He glanced at the clock. If he fucked his hand, he wouldn’t have time to shave. That wasn’t very business owner of him. Or maybe it was. He was CEO, the meetings wouldn’t start without him.

“Fuck it,” he muttered and wrapped his hand around his hard dick. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he pretended he knew what was hiding beneath the thin tank top of the woman who lived in his house.

*

The weather fucked him royally. He was supposed to be home that evening. Supposed to be eating dinner with his little baby and the pretty nanny. It felt completely unfair that the weather had made it so he would be stuck in a stupid airport, and he would have to go directly to work in the morning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she promised. “Maybe you can take the day off later in the week,” she suggested. “Actually... I was going to ask you if it was possible for you to do that anyway, so maybe this works out. Or maybe your mom—” He knew she was trying to distract him. Which he was grateful for but he was still so frustrated.

"What do y'need?" He asked, his voice stiff. He didn't mean for it to be. He was just upset.

She cleared her throat. “I just have some appointments I’ve been rescheduling over and over trying to find a day that's best for them. I don’t want to make you take the day off, but I know you’ve been nervous about your trip. I’ve been waiting—”

“Of course,” he said hurriedly. “Which day?”

“Wednesday, if possible. If not I can reschedule again.”

“Sure,” he’d take the whole week off if she asked. Cece time and helping the perfect angel? She didn’t need to say anything else.

“Thank you, Harry," the gratitude in her voice made him ache.

“You’ve worked nonstop for almost two months, love. Y’do more than I ever expected. S’least I could do. Plus, staying home with m’daughter isn’t a bad thing.”

She smiled. “She misses you,” she promised. Harry was pretty sure Cece wouldn’t know if he was away or not; work or overnight stay irrelevant. But it was nice she was saying it for his benefit. “She does, I swear,” she continued, somehow understanding his silence. “Especially at bedtime and when she wakes up. Little Miss doesn’t sleep well without you here,” she cooed. Harry imagined her holding the baby on his couch looking utterly comfortable and natural.

“Well tell her I miss her, love her, and kiss her for me too.”

She pressed a bunch of kisses to her skin loud enough for Harry to hear and that soft little giggle as well. Harry smiled, feeling marginally better about his cancelled flight. “See you tomorrow, love.”

“Can you say, bye bye Daddy,” she whispered. “Come on you can do it,” she encouraged. It was much too early and of course she knew that, but Harry loved that she tried anyway.

He wanted to tell Cece to give her a kiss from him as well.

--

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[flemingsfreckles]

Defending You

Jessie Fleming x PWHL reader

Synopsis: you opponent makes comments about your relationship, causing you to get into a fight much to the dismay of your girlfriend.

Warnings: physical altercation, fighting, mentions of injury, suggestive comments but in a gross way.

WC: 1.5k

A/N: I don’t know how this idea came about, but it did.

“I cannot believe you.” Those were the first words out of your girlfriend’s mouth as you walked toward her. She was leaning up against her car, arms crossed, a serious look across her face.

“She deserved it.” You shrugged.

“I don’t care.” That’s when you realized she wasn’t joking, she was actually upset about what had happened during the game. The way she clenches her jaw as she spoke through her teeth told you everything.

“Jessie it’s not that big of a deal, fights happen in hockey, it’s part of the sport.” It was, fighting was nothing new on the rink, it wasn’t encouraged but it happened.

“I get that, still doesn’t mean I like watching you physically hurt someone, I don’t like seeing you making someone bleed.” Jessie always hated watching you fight. She didn’t want to see you hurt and didn’t like the idea of you being violent toward someone else. You also knew she was upset with you because the fight you picked today was especially aggressive.

“Hey she hit me too.” You point at the bruise that was already forming under your eye, not to mention the deep purple spot on your side from where the girl had checked you into the boards earlier in the game.

“But you hit first.” Jessie says as she pops open the trunk of the car for you to throw your backpack in.

“Well she’d been checking me all game, she hit me twice from behind.” You toss in the bag and close the hatch before turning to look at Jessie but she had already walked to the drivers side. Your opponent had gotten on your nerves for a number of reasons, the physicality was just a small part of it.

“I don’t want to hear it, get in the car.” Jessie says as she opens her own car door, shutting it harder than normal. You let your head fall back, letting out a sigh. You loved Jessie but she never quite understood fighting, whereas for you it was second nature. You knew you were in for a small lecture as to why hitting wasn’t the right choice to take out your feelings.

The two of you rode home without a word. When you walk inside Jessie heads to the kitchen mumbling something about cooking dinner while you head to your bedroom and into the shower. You had quickly rinsed off the at arena but you never feel fully clean until you showered in your own shower.

Striping down in the mirror you see the bruise on your side. It encompasses the bottom of your ribcage and extends downward even with your bellybutton. Out of curiosity you poke at it which you regret, a quiet curse coming from your lips.

You leaned over the sink, looking at your face, a small bruise just under your left eye, a small scratch on your chin, nothing too brutal, you’d had worse when you were a teenager. You had always been one to get into fights, standing up for your teammates or yourself often with your fists before your words.

Watching you get into fights was Jessie’s least favorite part of your job. She understood it was part of the game, it happened, but that didn’t make her like it less.

When you get out of the shower you throw on a pair of sweats and an old college shirt before making your way into the kitchen where Jessie was standing over the stove. You move to open the freezer, looking for an ice pack or something to put on your ribs.

“I’m making dinner, don’t eat anything.” Jessie, who is still clearly annoyed with you, snaps from the other side of the kitchen.

“I’m just getting an ice pack.” You snap back, you were in pain and your girlfriend being grumpy with you was just adding to the mood you were in.

She doesn’t say anything but you see her glance in your direction, checking on you. You weren’t one to nurse your injuries, preferring to tough them out, you seeking out ice was a means for concern. She watches as you lift your shirt trying to place the ice pack.

“Oh my god.” She abandons the meal and comes to your side. “Is that from that hit?” Her fingers with featherlight pressure graze over the outline of the bruise.

“Yeah.” You think back to the feeling of your side being slammed into the boards. You hadn’t even seen her come up to hit you. You watched the hit back, she had taken her shoulder and driven it into the center of your back causing you to fall into the boards, your equipment only doing so much to protect your side. Which now left you with the swollen and tender side you were trying to ice.

“Okay maybe fair enough you punched her. Pull your shirt up.” You listen to her, pulling your shirt up and over your head, making it easier to see the bruise without the fabric trying to fall down.

“This wasn’t even the reason I punched her.” You mumble out as Jessie adjusts the ice back into place.

“No? Then what was?” Jessie’s hand grabs yours and has you hold the ice pack as she walks away and over into the bathroom. She comes back with a rolled up compression bandage. “Arms up.” She says as she puts her own hand back on the ice and begins to unravel the bandage and begins wrapping your torso gently.

“She just was chirping me the whole game, and not the usual game stuff. This was personal stuff. It was getting on my nerves and then she started talking about you and I lost it.”

“What did she say?” Jessie pauses wrapping the bandage and looks at you, a frown on her face.

“I don’t want to repeat it Jess.” You didn’t, the girl had made gross and arrogant comments to you. It started off picking on your own playing, comments about your handling, your skating, your shooting, all of it. You chirped back, but you weren’t big on trash talking but you made similar comments.

She had put the hard check on you in the second period sending you hard into the boards. When the two of you found yourselves next to each other at the next faceoff the girl had started on a whole new topic. Your girlfriend was that new topic.

She started with mentioning how much of a better girlfriend she’d be to Jessie, how she’d treat her right, take her out, show her off. You knew you showed off Jessie enough, any more and the girl would be uncomfortable, she liked your private but not secret relationship.

The girl then commented that she was surprised Jessie hadn’t left you given that you’ve yet to score for the season. It all was making your anger grow. It wasn’t until she started saying how much better she’d treat Jessie in the bedroom that you lost your temper on the girl. No one spoke or thought about your girlfriend like that on your watch.

You were the jealous type, always had been, and you knew Jessie was yours, and you didn’t have to worry about her going anywhere. You were secure with Jessie, but the girl’s teasing had gotten under your skin. Asking what positions she looks best in, asking if she was loud. What finally sent you over the edge was when the girl told you if Jessie wasn’t loud with you, after a night with her she would be. You instantly dropped your stick and lunged at the girl.

You both lost your gloves, one hand on each other's collars keeping each other within an arm's reach. You threw first, hitting her before she quickly returned the favor. Both of you got a few more hits in before your respective captains pulled you apart and you both got sent to serve your penalties while the game continued.

When the whistle blew at the end of the third period you and the girl shared a few more harsh words, her telling you to go run, hide, and cry to your girlfriend, you told her to go fuck herself.

“It couldn’t have been that bad baby.”

You give Jessie a look, trying to tell her with her eyes that she didn’t need to know what was said. “It was bad enough, I really don’t want to repeat it Jessie. It was gross things she was saying about you. I promise you, she deserved it, trust me.”

“I trust you. I still don’t like watching you fight. I don’t need to defend my honor with your fists.”

“I know.” You breathe out as Jessie looks at your fist, some small bruising starting to show on your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

She brings your fist up to her lips, placing kisses on each of the developing bruises while looking up at you with wide brown eyes. “No more fights over me, let them say whatever they want. You’re the one I come home to, you’re the one I love, not them.”

[allbark-no-bite]

don’t write checks you can’t cash.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: jake seresin is under your skin. or maybe you’re under his. either way you’re going to eat each other alive. jake isn’t about to take the fall

warnings: mentioned age gap, heavy sexual tension (the smut is coming i promise)

author’s note: back on my topgun bullshit bitches (respectfully). i’m not usually one for multi part fics but i actually wrote something with plot for once so please just bear with me. loosely inspired by Zach Bryan’s ‘nineball’. please note this fic title is subject to change bc i hate it

(you can read part 2 here!)

————————————————————————

You don't believe in love at first sight. You think the whole concept is some foolish idea that people who have already fallen in love have the liberty of saying they believe in. Then people who have been through failed relationship after failed relationship are convinced that they're never going to fall in love because it just doesn't happen. The whole idea pretty much just sets the rest of the population up for failure from the start.

Even the concept of finding the right person one day and growing to love them is hard for you to grasp. Because how can you love someone that much? How do you know you love them enough?There are some days that you don't enjoy the presence of even your closest friends for very long, friends who you would do anything for. Even family, you only tolerated so much.

Your high school boyfriend hated that about you, the fact that you realistically needed so little of him—or anyone for that matter. You have always been violently independent, able to provide what you require, and therefore having to maintain a simplistic relationship became nothing but a monotonous task. Even most of your closest friendships faded with time.

Eventually, you prosed the question: what can someone else give me that I cannot give myself?

The answer was companionship. Because when you strip away everything from a person and all they have left to offer you is themself, you have to be willing to choose them. And sometimes that's not the most appealing quality.

Something did happen, the first time you made eye contact with Lt. Jake Seresin, but it was far from love. It was something terrible in your chest, like an aching. Like you knew in your gut that he was going to change your life. Good or bad, you didn't know, but it was certain to happen.

You don't even believe that you two were destined to meet — you just happened to, and in that moment, the damage was done, it was your fate to ruin each other.

——

You like the way he says your name. You like that he says your name on purpose, like he is intentionally seeking out reasons to say it. It's not as harsh sounding coming from his mouth.

"You from around here, [L/n]?"

You're wiping down the glass hatch of your F/A-18 when he approaches you from behind. You swivel your head to catch sight of him behind your back but he's already making a wide circle around you, his chin tipping up then down as he inspects your plane from behind his tinted aviators.

As you watch him scrutinize your aircraft, you regard him with a certain level of apprehension. Jake Seresin was nothing short of gorgeous. He was six feet of bronze skin and lean muscle, withbright green eyes, and a movie star smile. Not to mention the southern accent that had girls drooling over him.

"Austin," you correct him. "Austin, Texas."

You'd been transferred over to Miramar a little over a month ago, becoming the newest addition to the Dagger squad. California was a nice change of scenery, and everyone you had met so far had welcomed you with open arms. That is, everyone but Lt. Seresin— Hangman as they called him. You were still trying to find your footing with him.

You genuinely don't know what his problem is with you. The guy had hardly even given you a glance since the moment you'd arrived. Your first guess would have been that he was one of those dickheads who didn't like women working in the field, but his relationship with Phoenix disproved that theory.

Your answer seems to warrant his attention, and he looks up. His expression twitches at the correction but he doesn't say anything in response. For the first time since you arrived at Miramar, still, unsmiling green eyes catch yours from across the aircraft.

You hold his gaze. After a moment, your stomach twists in an unsettling way, like even it doesn't know what to do with itself. Your first instinct is to look away. Your brain is telling you that if you do, you can avoid any sort of confrontation that may happen as a result. But it's like you can't.

This is the first time he's looked at you, and now you don't dare to look away.

Even from behind the tint of his perfectly polished aviators, you can make out the distinct color of his green eyes. They're so distracting that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

After what feels like eons of uncomfortable staring, he breaks your gaze —surely it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Flustered, you glance around to see if anyone else has picked up on the affair. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you're not quite sure which, it's nearing 6pm and the base is on the better side of empty. It's a Friday evening and everyone is eager to head out for the weekend.

Someone clears their throat. Hangman is still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn't have anywhere better to be. You want to say something but your gut is telling you that there's some sort of game going on here and you're not sure of the rules.

Finally, he faintly nods his head, as if to excuse himself, and turns to walk away. You watch his retreating back and relax a little, breathing a bit easier.

As you're turning back to your plane, relieved that the interaction is over, you hear him call back over his shoulder.

“The team is heading to the Hard Deck at nine. Don't be late."

And then he's gone, disappeared between one of the hangars.

——

For nine thirty on a Friday evening, the bar isn't nearly as busy as you'd expected it to be. You don't have to fight for a parking spot out front and there's not even a line at the bar. Other than a rowdy looking gaggle accumulating at the pool table, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. Looking around as you walk further in, there is a handful of people in civilians, but the majority of the crowd is composed of off duty aviators in their summer khakis.

You're about to head over to the bar top, where you were sure you had spotted Captain Mitchell, when someone shouts your name.

"Hawk!"

Your head swivels at the sound of your callsign, and you catch sight of Rooster beckoning to you over at the pool table. Immediately you recognize the familiar faces of the Dagger squad around him. You acknowledge him with a smile and head over to join them.

“And here we thought you were going to be a no-show," the brunette pilot chirps, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as soon as you're close enough. You lean into his embrace while touching his chest with a friendly pat of your hand. Bradley is by no means close to drunk but most definitely more than a little buzzed if you're going off of the smell of beer and lime on his breath and the occasional involuntary twitch of his mustache.

"I thought about it, but I can't keep letting you guys have all the fun," you laugh, holding out your other arm so that you can greet Natasha with a hug as Rooster releases you.

After hugging you, she presses a sweating bottle of beer into your hand. "Coyote bought everyone a round so I figured I'd save you one before the boys wiped them out. Sorry if it's a bit warm, you did show up fashionably late."

You playfully roll your eyes at her, taking the beer anyhow. "Thanks, Phe."

Payback places a large palm on the top of your head, diverting your attention towards him as he returns from the bar. "Don't let her fool you, we're just getting started over here. Rooster isn't even drunk enough to get on the piano yet."

Laughing, you glance over at the brunette aviator. "Now that I've been waiting to see. I hear you're quite the show, Bradshaw."

Since you transferred over to Miramar, you had been hounded nonstop to go out drinking with the team for weeks, and Rooster's infamous performance had been one of their key selling points. That and the fact that the owner, Penny, often gave them free drinks. Apparently she had a thing for Captain Mitchell.

Rooster grins, leaning against the pool stick in his hand as he waits for Fanboy to take his shot. "Let me get a couple more beers deep and I promise you won't be disappointed."

As you go about making your rounds to greet everyone else, you can't help but notice that there's someone missing. After you take a seat beside Bob to watch Rooster and Fanboy play, you glance around the bar a few times, convinced that you've somehow overlooked him despite the fact that the place isn't busy enough for that.

An almost disappointed feeling pulls at you despite how ridiculous the realization makes you feel.

After spending the better part of an half hour trying to push the feeling away, you finally spot a familiar head of blonde hair over at the dartboard. He's by himself, about three darts in and half a bottle of beer down. So much for the personal invitation, you think.

You watch as he throws a dart, practically without so much as aiming whilst contemplating whether or not you even have it in you to muster up the courage to face those green eyes again.

Without giving yourself the chance to back down, you swallow back the rest of your now warm beer and head over.

He tosses another dart just as you reach him, and it finds itself dead center with the previous three.

"With a hand like that, you should be kicking Rooster's ass over there in pool," you say as you come to a stop behind him.

Walking away from the dartboard, Jake turns to grab his bottle of beer from the table beside you.

"I'm not much of a betting man," he huffs, leaning back against the table. The muscles of his biceps bugle distractingly against the sleeves of his uniform.

You look back over your shoulder, watching from a distance as Fanboy's cue clips the eight ball and sends it ricocheting off the sidewall. He groans, and Rooster whoops triumphantly from behind him.

"It wouldn't be much of a bet. Even with his winning streak, I think you'd give him a run for his money."

Hangman takes a sip from his bottle, mouth lingering on the rim before he sets it back down and crosses his arms. "Rooster's all luck and no skill. The table's got a lean."

You raise your eyebrows at the confession, half laughing at his lax confidence. "Oh? And you would know this how?"

"C'mon, son. Fuckin' hit it in."

Body tense, his arm quivers ever so slightly and the pool stick bobs shakily in his hand. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in.

"I haven't got all day, kid."

He breathes out and breathes back in. The smell of cigar smoke and cheap beer swims in his head.

"What're you doin'?! Quit wastin' time."

He exhales, opens his eyes, and hits the pool stick forward. The white cue ball shoots out to the left, bounces against the eight ball, and sends it hurdling towards the side pocket. At the very last moment, it veers off to the left and falls into  the back corner pocket instead.

The man standing on the other side of the table curses, his pool stick dropping to the ground, but Jake pays little mind to him. He straightens, looking around eagerly for the only set of eyes that matter. The grin falls from his face when he realizes the old man isn't even watching, too busy counting out his prize money and yanking out a ten to hand to the bartender.

Jake looks up at the clock on the wall over his shoulder.

12:57 am

"Dad, I wanna go home."

"Not yet, son. I've already got fifty put down on another round."

"Want me to show you?"

His offer makes you pause, and you can't help but cock your head a bit as you try to weigh out just where this is heading. For weeks he has acted as though you barely even existed and now you're engaged in the longest conversion the two of you have had since your arrival.

Jake finishes his drink and sets the bottle down whilst walking over to you. "Final offer. Take it or leave it."

You laugh a little before stepping back so that he can make his way to the pool table. "Lead the way then." But before you can make it too far, his palm finds the flat of your back, pressing you forward so that you're in front of him. You're glad he can't see you because your face flashes hot at the unexpected contact.

"I'm not the one playing, kid. I'm just going to show you the ropes."

"Oh, I didn't-"

Any objections you have about the situation are ignored as he pushes you firmly in the direction of the pool table and asks Payback for his cue. "Look alive, Bradshaw. Hawk is about to show you how this thing is done."

Straightening his wide shoulders, Bradley grins, smug and easy as you and Hangman approach the opposite side of the table. "And here I thought you were here to reclaim your throne now that I'm intoxicated."

Jake grins back. "You don't need to be drunk for me to do that."

Bradley's mustache twitches, but he's still smiling. "Sure."

Jake turns back to you, placing the pool stick in your hand. You can't help but think that his expression is all too confident for someone who has never even seen you play pool.

"Nervous?" he asks as you take the stick from him.

"Should I be?" you ask back, turning your head to watch as Rooster takes the liberty of breaking the rack.

He shakes his head, his green eyes glowing with a warmth that you've yet to see from him. "Not as long as you don't totally suck."

Seeing that it's your turn, you brush past him to stand at the table. "I guess I'll let you be the judge of that."

Thankfully you've played your fair share of pool and so you're able to hold your own for most of the game. Jake remains criminally silent as you play, arms once again crossed as he leans against a nearby stool, but you can feel his gaze burning into your back the entire time. It isn't until the end of the game and you've missed the same ball multiple times that he steps in.

"Shift left," he directs you. When you glance over at him, he nods his head as if to insinuate where you should move but doesn't move from where he's planted himself since the beginning of the game.

Hesitantly, you shuffle over a half step and take the shot. The ball comes closer than you have been but still hits the sidewall just short of the pocket. You huff in frustration, and Rooster steps forward to take his turn, sinking his second to last ball in the same pocket.

"I hope you're ready to buy the next round, Seresin. Looks like Hawk is losing her nerve," Bradley goads, unable to keep himself from boasting a little at your expense. When it comes to Hangman, he can't resist the chance to taunt him.

You roll your eyes at his comment, not bothered so much by it as compared to the fact that you're losing. When it's your turn again, you line up the ball and lean down to assume your position when Jake stops you.

All the sudden he's right beside you, palm pressing into your hip to scoot you to the side. "Move over." When you look at him like he's crazy, he huffs. "C'mon, do you want my help or not?"

It isn't so much of a question as it is a statement and the press of his hand against your side doesn't leave you much of an option and so you shuffle over to the far right side of the pool table.

Before you can even comprehend what's going on, he's leant over you, his impossibly tall frame pressed to your back so that he can reach around you and guide your hands. One wraps around your hand on the stick and the other cups your opposite elbow.

It takes everything in you not to jerk away, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. Instead you try to focus on controlling your hammering heart and pray he can't tell how clammy your palms suddenly are.

"Hey, that's not allowed," Rooster complains. "Is that allowed?"

Coyote shrugs. "It's not not allowed."

Distracted by their bickering, his voice in your ear nearly makes you jump. "Hit the cue ball. Hard."

The lean press of his body is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he's done a god awful job of lining up the shot. There's not one alternate reality where you make this shot.

"You can't be serious."

He's so close that you feel him smile beside your ear. "Dead."

"Any day now," Rooster prompts, as if you aren't aware that Jake Seresin has been pressed against you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And if Hangman has noticed the fact that your heart is fluttering erratically inside your chest or that your skin is flushed hot to the touch, he doesn't let on. 

"I'm waiting," he reminds you, his voice placid in your ear.

Against your better judgement, you take the shot.

The white cue ball hurtles into the black eight ball with a hard clack and sends it flying across the table. It smashes against the sidewall, exactly as you had expected it to, and you release a breath of defeat. And then something unexpected happens. The ball slows, but instead of bouncing to a stop, it continues to roll left across the table. You all watch as it rolls directly into back corner pocket of the table.

"Well I'll be damned," Payback mutters aloud.

"Hell yeah, [L/n]!" Phoenix shouts, her loud and robust voice ringing out across the bar. "Shots are on Bradshaw!"

"Thanks buddy," Coyote laughs, teasingly grabbing the back of the brunette aviator's shoulders as he heads off for the bar.

Bradley waves them off, looking a bit miffed but still good naturedly accepting his defeat.

"How about it? You're a cold blooded killer."

Like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head, the sound of Hangman's voice coming from behind you jerks you back to reality. You haven't even noticed that he'd stepped away. Something inside you twinges at the loss of his body pressed against yours.

You turn around to face him, your brain still trying to comprehend what just happened.

"How'd you do that?" you ask incredulously, your tone almost accusing. A deeper part of you wants to ask 'why did you do that' but the smile on his face stops you.

His top row of pearly white teeth that you glimpse is pristine, however brief, before his pink lips come back together in a more subdued smile. It's an expression that is so very genuine and carefree that it sends a spark straight through to your heart. You've never seen him actually smile before, and especially not at you.

"You're smiling," you accuse before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, half giddy at the discovery yourself.

Jake looks slightly away, turning his head briefly in order to suppress his smile before looking back to you. “Yeah? So?” His green eyes are twinkling as he says it, like he knows he’s been caught.

You jab the short end of the pool stick into the center of his chest, but he’s quick to grab it before it can find home.

“Up until yesterday, you could barely stand to even look at me,” you say.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not true.”

“So you’re saying that I’m seeing things.” You try to tug back on the pool stick but Hangman doesn’t release it.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be seeing things.”

With that, a larger portion of the previous smile is gone from his face, a more sober look replacing it.

Just like that the spark fades. Even though you want to shut down, turn your back to his face and just walk away. You force yourself to keep talking, holding your voice steady. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Inside you know exactly what he means.

His eyes flicker up over your shoulder but the Dagger squad has already moved on to crowd around Rooster at the piano.

You clamp your jaw together as he releases the pool cue and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes him look more relaxed than he is.

"Look, whatever this is—whatever you think I am, I'm not." He says this with the realistic conviction of someone who knows that even if it is, you can't. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.

You’re not quite sure how old he is—barely thirty if you had to guess— but he’s older. Too old. Not to mention fraternization is deeply frowned upon.

"I know," you answer firmly. Because you do. Because even if it isn't, you want it, whatever it is.

He stares down at you with those green eyes, his pupils pinpoint sharp. After a moment he heaves a sigh and releases it, nodding his head. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’re in agreement.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

[drchucktingle]

Where is the best place to preorder Bury Your Gays? What is of most benefit to you?

i know other types of media have given the trot of preorders a bad way, but for publishing books i cannot even begin to tell you buckaroos HOW IMPORTANT PREORDERS ARE WHEN SUPPORTING AUTHORS YOU CARE ABOUT. i mean HECK preorders are so important i even wrote three dang tinglers about it

basically preorders are what publishers use to determine how much financial backing they will give a book for advertising and book tours and all that, but that is only PART of this way. BOOK STORES also use a preorder equation to determine how much shelf space to give a book. your preorder does not just mean YOU get a book for yourself, but basically means you are making room for someone ELSE to get the book in a store by putting another copy on a shelf

that is why it is better to put in a preorder instead of just saying 'oh i will just remember to buy myself a copy on the day it comes out'

LASTLY preorders are how books get onto bestseller lists because all the orders leading up to your book release date COUNT AS FIRST WEEK SALES. something like new york times bestseller list is close to impossible trot without preorders

think of it like a handsome surfing bigfoot trying to ride a wave. it is one thing to actually ride on the wave, but what matters most is that initial moment when you GET UP THERE and actually have the strength to pull yourself up when the wave starts. PREORDERS are the climbing up part

NOW LETS GET DOWN TO YOUR SPECIFIC QUESTION

first of all ANY preorder is great. what matters most as far as bestseller lists is actually FORMAT. the best thing you can order for an author is not ebook or audiobook, it is HARDCOVER. personally i am an audiobook buckaroo myself so please understand you should order whatever format you want, but technically speaking the answer is HARDCOVER

next is WHERE do you order. this answer is pretty dang cool actually. the best place to order for the sake of author is your LOCAL INDIE BOOKSTORE. if you MUST order at a big timer website that is fine, but many bestseller lists are weighted towards indie bookstores

so to sum it up. the technical BEST WAY to support chuck with 'bury your gays' is to PREORDER a HARDCOVER from an INDIE BOOKSTORE.

thank you for your question but before you go trotting along i would like to add one more thing

all art is important. when we create things they serve as stepping stones for us to move along our journey as artists and creators on this timeline. i have so much love for every book i have made, from POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY OWN BUTT to CAMP DAMASCUS

but i have to say with deep sincerity in my way, BURY YOUR GAYS is something special. i absolutely believe that if you care about fandom, or creation, or love, or fanfiction, or supernatural, or the future of media, or asexual buckaroos, or gay buckaroos, or bi buckaroos or any queer buckaroos, you will love this book. i promise buckaroo

it is the best thing i have ever written, and i think it is going to bend this timeline in incredible ways. i would like you to trot with me into the future, since we have already trotted this far together. i cannot say this enough: this one is special, and the timelines we create from here are going to make the whole dang world look up in surprise and say 'where the heck did that come from?'

so if you are even CONSIDERING preordering, take a moment a do it.

if you are one of those buckaroos who says 'chuck tingle is my favorite author ive never read' then now is your moment

lets trot buckaroos. thank you for reading and thank you for constantly proving to me that love is real

preorder BURY YOUR GAYS here

[widow-tarot]

MINI PAC READING: What Would They Tell You If They Could? (Romance)

GROUPS: 1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6

You can always tip me! - paypal.me/sadwidow

If you want to support me, please reblog!

Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. Just to remind you, this is only for entertainment purposes.

If you don't feel drawn to any group, then this reading is not for you.

GROUP 1

Cards: Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands rx, Wheel of Fortune rx, I Like You, Girl Talk rx, Pond, Archangel Metatron.

I like you. I know it's straightforward, but I cannot say it in any other way that's more meaningful or more direct. It might not sound meaningful but it is to me (I hope it is to you too). I feel there is a spiritual connection between us and it seems no matter what, we keep coming back to each other. Our connection is like a pond; can be insignificant to others but to us, it holds so much life and secrets but it can easily be destroyed if not cultivated. We are so hot and cold; we like each other, then we hate each other over something trivial (we both don't know what exactly annoyed us). I want to move towards you but things are holding me back. There's so much I want to do and say but I'm standing still. I know we will truly come together someday. No one knows about it because I don't share those feelings with friends. It seems too private and sacred.

SONGS:

Eric by Mitski ("Take off my clothes and watch me move; You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me; But how long, how long can we play this way?; I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you"

Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey ("Ours a love I held tightly; Feeling the rapture grow; Like a flame burning brightly; But when she left; Gone was the glow")

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex ("Whispered something in your ear; It was a perverted thing to say; But I said it anyway; Made you smile and look away; Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby; As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine")

GROUP 2

Cards: 9 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Noose rx, Mushrooms, The Snake, Hammer rx, Seraphim Seraphisa rx.

You will forever be in my heart and mind, but we can never be together in the way we want. There are way too many blockages and I do think we are not fit to be in a relationship. I am in a committed relationship (or you are) and I do not wish to leave her for I love her. Maybe I am a coward, but I am a practical and cautious one. I will not take reckless actions just to wake up one day and regret it. I think what we have is a fantasy, pleasant make-believe, daydreaming. However, I don't want you gone because you're an important person to me. I wish you happiness but I can't follow you.

SONGS:

Lonesome Love by Mitski ("I call you, to see you again; So I can win, and this can finally end")

Blue Banisters by Lana Del Rey ("She said, "You can't be a muse and be happy, too; You can't blacken the pages with Russian poetry and be happy"; And that scared me; 'Cause I met a man who said he'd come back every May;Just to help me if I'd paint; Now when weather turns to May; All my sisters come to paint")

Flash by Cigarettes After Sex ("I'm a flash; You were blinded by the love I had; I'm a flash; The light could only get in through the cracks")

GROUP 3

Cards: The Hierophant rx, 8 of Wands, The Devil, 10 of Swords rx, Wildflowers, Mirror, Keys on a Ring, Archangel Raphael.

You are the temptation, the chaos in my life, the wildflowers that can still be growing but can also be already taken by someone else while I wasn't looking. You're untouchable, unable to be caught, translucent. One minute you're here only to leave seconds later just to come back and stay for a long time. You're unpredictable, a sin worth sinning for. But I hate to be alone and you make me sad. I love to see you but I hate myself when you leave. I don't know if you have any feelings for me; is it something serious or is it just casual and convenient? I can't do this anymore, I'm trapped and I feel miserable. I wish I could tell you to stay away, to abandon me, to never come back. It would be easier for me to move on then but I am a fool for you. I wish I was strong enough to talk things through but I'd rather have some of you than none of you. Then again, being with you hurts me so what should I do?

SONGS:

Should've Been Me by Mitski ("Relive all the ways you still want me; I haven't given you what you need; You wanted me but couldn't reach me; I'm sorry it should've been me"

Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey ("I will love you till the end of time; I would wait a million years; Promise you'll remember that you're mine; Baby, can you see through the tears?; You went out every night; And, baby, that's alright; But when you walked out that door; A piece of me died")

Ambien Slide by Cigarettes After Sex ("Take my love with some pretend; You said you couldn't help it; Had everything that you wanted; When my love was something yours; But now you're feeling helpless")

GROUP 4

Cards: Death, Page of Pentacles rx, The Chariot rx, Archangel Sammael, Eileen Chang rx, Boat rx, Engagement Ring rx.

I don't want to try to fix this thing between us anymore, it's a fool's errand. We tried and it didn't work, it's time to move on to something else because we are just wasting our time and I'm exhausted. Let me go. Let me leave, peacefully. I don't want to fight but I'm frustrated. I think we tried to escape the inevitable but at the end of the road, we cannot pretend any longer. Relieve me of this burden and don't resent me.

SONGS:

Working For The Knife by Mitski ("I always thought the choice was mine; And I was right, but I just chose wrong")

Bel Air by Lana Del Rey ("Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate; Trying to tell me to wait; But I can't wait to see you; So I run, like I'm mad, to heaven's door; I don't wanna be bad; I won't cheat you no more")

Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex ("We wanted to fuck with real love; Wanted it sweet, so pure and warm; And when you say you want it all, I know you want it all; Baby, take it all from me; I always will make it feel like you were the last one; So get in the waves like it was the first time")

GROUP 5

Cards: The Star rx, 7 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords rx, Glove rx, The Phoenix, Paradise rx, Archangel Haniel.

I wish we could start anew, without any bitter history between us that holds us back and clouds our judgment. We cannot fully be together while all these thoughts are troubling us, making us suspicious of each other and insecure. I know we both lost hope for this connection, yet we are still going and proceeding with it in any way we can. We don't want this to be over but we need to find a solution. I want you in my life and I'm willing to put work into it. Are you? Someone needs to make the first step though and it's the most difficult thing to do. We cannot stay still for much longer though. We communicate telepathically but we also have to communicate in real life.

SONGS:

First Love/Late Spring by Mitski ("Please hurry leave me; I can't breathe; Please don't say you love me; One word from you and I would; Jump off of this ledge I'm on; Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in")

Video Games by Lana Del Rey ("It's you, it's you, it's all for you; Everything I do; I tell you all the time; Heaven is a place on earth with you; Tell me all the things you wanna do; It's better than I ever even knew; They say that the world was built for two; Only worth living if somebody is loving you")

Goodbye Mr Blue by Father John Misty (" But maybe if he'd gone sooner; Could've brought us back together last June; When the last time was our last time; If only then I knew; The last time was our last time; Would've told you that the last time comes too soon")

GROUP 6

Cards: Page of Swords rx, 9 of Cups rx, 4 of Swords, Sappho, Archangel Chamuel, Cupid's Arrow rx, Separation rx.

Do you love me? You say you do why does your love cause so much pain? Why am I in agony instead of being elated and happy? Is this how you show your love? I feel neglected and manipulated. I feel ignored and mocked. Am I your partner or your pet? Do you even care what I want? Do you care what I have to say? You treat me as a child as if I cannot think or decide for myself. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think so lowly of me? When you're not here, I don't miss you and my mind is at ease. I lost all hope for anything to change. It hurts even more because I love you, but your love is weird and dysfunctional. I feel trapped. I even stopped speaking my mind because it was met with ridicule and anger.

SONGS:

Wife by Mitski ("For if I am not yours, what am I?; I daydream I'd give one a name of my own; For even I am on loan; For even mine is unknown; So let me go towards the morning star; With hope it won't disappear;)

Carmen by Lana Del Rey ("Baby's all dressed up, with nowhere to go; That's the little story of the girl you know; Relyin' on the kindness of strangers; Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem; Lyin' to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf; It's alarmin', honestly, how charmin' she can be; Foolin' everyone, tellin' 'em she's havin' fun")

Hot by Cigarettes After Sex ("Is it all in my head? 'Cause I keep getting scared; That I'll always be lost forever; But I don't give a shit if I'm too delicate; When you hold me, it's always better")

[abyssal-ilk]

A thing that people always forget when chastising vivienne for being so apathetic to cole is the fact that she is a circle mage. People whom are forced to learn that you should not trust demons nor spirits or else they’ll put you down AS A RITE OF PASSAGE. Think back to what Mouse says in DAO. “Keep your wits about you, mage; true challenges never end.” She knows that for the rest of her life, demons will tempt her and try to possess her. She has seen mages turn into abominations, knows how they get them- of course she will support templars who have the skills to subdue them. And now to have a spirit scurrying around without supervision what is the last bastion against a Tevinter Sidereal… I too would be worried as hell if i were a circle mage.

EXACTLY!

not only is vivienne a circle mage, but there are also a few other factors that play into it that make cole so untrustworthy to her. vivienne underwent her harrowing when she was young– in fact, she was the youngest mage to have ever gone through a harrowing and survived it. we don't get to learn much about what she went through during her harrowing, but we DO have this banter between her and cole:

harrowings on their own are already traumatic enough, and with the added insistence from the circles that all spirits and demons are dangerous (which we see vivienne repeat above, "all it can do is harm."), it makes complete sense on why vivienne would be so put-off by cole! especially given how kind he is! she thinks that kindness is a ploy, and why wouldn't she if her harrowing was anything like the warden's in DAO?

and then that's not even acknowledging the fact that cole isn't just ANY spirit. he's the ghost of the spire. he's killed mages before and admits to doing so. and even though he was wrong to do so and realizes that what he did was wrong, that does not mean that vivienne automatically has to suddenly be okay with what cole did. of course vivienne takes cole being the ghost of the spire harder than everyone else in the inner circle. she is the only circle mage there. it is entirely plausible that she sees cole as a threat and views herself as being the person most able to recognize that threat because of what she was taught. it's why she struggles so much to empathize with cole on any level.

ive already talked about this briefly on another post, but cole is also fairly antagonistic to vivienne as well. it's easy to look at their dynamic and think that, well, cole is just trying to help vivienne but he... isn't? his version of helping her is prying into her thoughts without permission and continuing to do so even after she has shown clear discomfort with it.

cole drags her worst memories and thoughts out publicly in front of not just vivienne, but the rest of the party and anyone else who may happen to be standing near them. it's DANGEROUS, what he does, because vivienne is a player of the game. her position at court is a precarious one, and to have someone like cole who can just pick into her brain whenever he wants with no repercussions? it's scary! it's scary because vivienne has no defense against it, especially if the player supports cole and downplays the harm he does. and what can vivienne do about it? she's an ally of the inquisitor, and that makes her cole's ally by proxy. telling cole to stop doesn't work, insulting him doesn't work, trying to get the inquisitor to intervine doesn't work– nothing seems to deter cole.

which is why THIS piece of dialogue is so important to me:

despite everything i've said above, vivienne still cannot help but care about cole. no matter how dangerous he is, no matter what she was raised to believe, she still cares about him and worries for him. their dynamic is SO interesting to me and i really wish people dug into it a bit more rather than just dismiss it as vivienne being needlessly cruel to cole. it's so much more than that.

[wri0thesley]

SO glad someone else is in the "Just the tip" hole, so here I am like a little kid, cupping my hands for any spare thoughts (preferrably anyone besides Sampo), if you have any to share? 🤲🖤

loni i was going to write a post anyway but being able to reply to asks with my thoughts - proof that there is Demand (tm!) makes me feel SO much better about the brainrot!!! i have many thoughts abt sampo too so i am eagerly awaiting ur drabble, just the tip is really a concept of all time!

ft: gepard, welt, himeko, serval, jing yuan, luocha cw: reader is afab with no pronouns used. public sex (luocha), straps, sex toys (himeko and serval), a little size kink (jing yuan), a little soft dom (welt). not sfw, minors dni.

Gepard doesn't quite realise how big he is. He's not got all that much experience; he's never really thought about it, far too busy with all of the responsibilities that come hand in hand with being Captain of the Silvermane Guards. So when your eyes widen and your fingers can't quite meet when you wrap them around his length, he lets out a ragged breath and a moan and pushes his cock between your thighs. You have to breathlessly curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and whisper out his name. He's already on the edge just by being close to you. The silky softness of your thighs, the inviting shine of your lips and the way that arousal makes your eyes blow dark and wide - when you whisper softly into his ear; "I don't know if I can take it, Gepard . . . J-just the tip, alright? Go slow--", he worries that he's about to embarrass himself right there and then and come before he's even gotten inside of you.

You whine and whimper as he slowly pushes you open, your wetness smearing all over the ruddy head of his cock. Your fingers tighten in his hair even as a soft strangled noise falls from Gepard's own mouth and he struggles to not ram himself inside of you - you have no idea how good you feel. How hot and tight and wet and perfect the embrace of your walls clinging to him is, even on just the head of his cock.

But he did not get where he is by not having self-control. His muscular arms, corded with scars from practise battles and real battles alike, cage you in on the bed beneath him. He looks at you like someone who cannot believe how lucky he is.

"I'll wait here," he promises you, his voice lust-soaked and cracking with the effort. "As long as you need me to."

Welt sees how your lip trembles, how you take in a slow, steadying breath, and he cannot help his desire to take care of you a little. To coddle you and fuss over you, to make the most of the age and experience that he has and you do not. So he smiles at you, crow's feet crinkling the edges of his eyes behind his glasses, and traces the pout of your bottom lip with his thumb. His voice is patient and soft when he speaks to you.

"I'll go slowly," he tells you, as he gently slaps his cock against your wet folds where you sit on his desk before him, animation sketches and research papers pushed to one side in favour of the tempting treat that is your body. He has spent so much of his time working - nobody could blame him for taking a break and finding himself again in the silky tightness of someone younger and prettier than he himself is. "Just the tip first."

"Alright, Mr Yang," you breathe to him, your hands locking about his neck, urging him forward. You sigh as the head nudges your clit, as his precome mingles with your own slick arousal. You're a sensitive mess already - Welt is certainly not the kind of man who'd leave a partner unsatisfied, and his fingers and his tongue have already learnt every petal-soft fold of you, every spot that makes you shiver and whimper until you'd had to bite into his shoulder to stop your cries waking up every other crew member of the Express.

Slowly, slowly, carefully, he eases into you. Watches with rapt attention every movement of your body; the stretch of your cunt as it accepts him, until your hips are wriggling and squirming and you're tugging on his shoulders.

"Mr Yang," you're saying to him, your lip trembling, your shoulders racked with gasps. A whine leaks into your tone as he rests the head of his cock inside of you, enjoying the feel of it. Your sex pulses around the modicum of his length inside of you, fluttering, waiting to be fully claimed. "It's -- it's not enough!"

Welt laughs softly and presses a kiss on the top of your head that is almost paternal in its comfort - a reminder that he's old enough to be your father, your grandfather--

His voice is soft with just a hint of admonishment in it.

"You're really going to have to learn some patience."

Himeko has you wrapped around her little finger, but that doesn't mean that you don't eye the toy that she shows you with a little trepidation. She laughs at you when you do, pulling you into her, kissing you with the taste of coffee on her tongue as she talks you into her bed.

"If you're frightened of it," she's saying, even as your mouth is going dry as you watch her disrobe, "We'll go as slow as you need, darling. We'll start with just the tip."

You lose the ability to speak at the sight of her, auburn curls tumbling down her back and over the milky pale spill of her breasts and shoulders. Bathed in the starlight from her cabin window, she's unearthly, and your entire body sings out with desire for her. She smiles when she sees you looking.

"Always such a flatterer," she teases affectionately, as she wraps the toy carefully around the curve of her hips. It looks just as striking on her as everything else does. "Now, you just lie back. I've done this before. Let Himeko handle it, hmm?"

You're helpless to a command from the beautiful navigator, and you let yourself fall back on the pillows as she walks towards you with all of the elegance of somebody who knows exactly how lovely she is. She gives you a soft smile, her golden eyes gentle in the light, even as she gathers herself onto her knees and her fingers lightly dance over your bare skin. Electric pinpricks of desire radiate from every touch.

"Aren't you beautiful?" She muses to herself, as she wraps her hand around the toy and pumps it a few times - when it comes away, you see there's something thick and clear and viscous dripping from it. She laughs softly again when she sees you looking.

"You're already wet," she whispers to you, in a low, musical voice. "But if you're still nervous . . . well, there's nothing wrong with a little help, is there?"

Her fingers dance over your skin. She knows every part of you intimately by now; the spot on your stomach, the way you whimper when she pinches your nipples, the place on your hips that makes you breathe in a deep sigh and your own lashes flutter. Through her touches, she keeps murmuring soft platitudes to you - how pretty you look like this, for her. What a precious treasure you are. How she can't wait for you to come apart--

And by the time she is sliding the tip of the toy inside of you and you are fair dizzy with want, you can do nothing but whisper out her name. She leaves the tip of the toy inside of you, smiling down, as patient and beautiful and dazzling as ever.

"I told you," she murmurs, as her long fingers return to pluck and play with your nipples, and you get used to the new stretch of having something thicker than Himeko's fingers inside of you. "We'll go as slow as you need. Any new territory worth exploring is worth doing . . ." She leans down, her mouth full and soft and wet as it meets yours and you whine into it. "Thoroughly."

Serval is a tease. You'd known she was up to something the moment you'd stepped into the workshop and she'd flipped the sign to 'closed' with a feline grin on her face as she'd beckoned you over to her and told you she could really use your help with some new gadget she was tinkering with.

So now, as she has you bent over her workbench with something vibrating pressed in the valley between the folds of your sex, the tip pressed just so - buzzing and tingling - against the swollen pearl of your clit, it's all you can do to keep your fingers tight around the edge of the workbench and your knees locked so you don't collapse.

"Kitten," Serval is purring, her hips slowly rocking back and forth, the phallic toy strapped to her hips rubbing through the wet mess of your cunt. "Don't you like it? I made it thinking of you!"

Your words come out garbled, a mess of moans and sighs. Your own hips thrust back when she pulls away, trying to get her to keep the toy pressed against your clit for long enough for you to get off. Instead, she just laughs, nipping at your bare shoulder.

"You're getting desperate," she teases you, her voice deep and throaty and satisfied. "Beg me, kitten, and we'll see what I can do for you."

"Serval--" Your voice comes out a whine. "Please . . ."

Her clever fingers, calloused palms, slide down your bare skin, leaving electric zaps wherever they touch you. You shudder under her practised touch - you are an instrument, and Serval has already proved she is a master musician.

"Seeing as you asked so nicely," she says to you, and you sense the wicked cat-like grin on her mouth. "How about I give you just the tip?"

"Not enough--"

"You're getting greedy!" The buzzing toy slides a scant inch inside of you without the smallest hint of resistance; you're wet enough from the teasing already. You can feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, and Serval sighs happily as she dips one of her fingers between your thighs to toy with your clit as the tip of the toy rests inside of you.

"You're lucky you're so cute," she whispers to you. Her finger slides back and forth over your clit, drawing delicate circles - she always knows how to use them. "Come for me on the tip, and I'll fuck you with the rest of it too."

Jing Yuan's patience has long been mistaken for occasional laziness; but you know better than most that there is nothing of the kind, when it comes to him. And there is certainly nothing of the kind when it comes to trysts like this.

Oh, you and he have gotten used to rushing moments when you can, in between him being needed for meetings and work - but now? In the evening, loose ends tied up, with nothing but one another to spend the night on?

This is a tryst that will last.

Jing Yuan is not lazy - he merely likes to take his time. For a man whose being is tied up in his past warfare, he knows how to handle delicate things like you - but that doesn't mean he's going to rush it. Not when you look so pretty laid out like this for him, clothes rumpled and discarded beneath you, looking up at him with your eyes all soft and wanting and your mouth aching to be kissed.

He hums beneath his breath as he lets his mouth learn the shape of yours; pushes you gently back when you try and kiss deeply into him, to make him hurry up. His cock nudges against your inner thigh and he sighs a slow, indolent sigh of pleasure that makes your heart beat double time in your chest.

"We have all of the time in the world, little bird," he tells you, with an insouciant smile on his face. Your face scrunches, an adorable expression of impatience taking over your features, and he smiles down at you like someone looking at the finest treasure in the world.

"Impatient," he chides you, but there's nothing but warmth in his tone when it comes to you. His hands find your thighs, digging into the soft skin as he parts them. Warm eyes like pools of molten gold find your core, and he sighs as he looks at you. You squirm under his gaze, and as he softly leans down and lets some of his own saliva drip onto your cunt, you whimper at the feel. "This is impatient, too," He says to you, and laughs. "Drooling all over the place. Mm. Is that how much it wants me?"

"I want you," you respond to him, mouth petulant. Jing Yuan shakes his head fondly at you but readjusts himself, hand around his cock to guide it to your sex. He taps the thick head softly against your clit until you squirm, pouting. "Jing Yuan--"

"Ah, I know, I know," he looks down at where the two of you are not yet joined. "I'm always reminded how . . . small you are, when I look down at you like this."

"It will fit," you insist to him, and he raises one eyebrow.

"Oh, I know it will," he tells you, still smiling at you. "But it's a tight one, isn't it?"

"Jing Yuan, you're stalling--!"

He laughs again.

"Ha. My apologies, little bird." Slowly, he guides his cock to your opening - resting it against there, just for a moment. Exactly as he said, he seems so much bigger than you - his tip thick and blunt and rounded, your entrance small even as your hole pulses and oozes slick in preparation for him. "I simply like looking at you."

"There's something you'd like more than just looking," you encourage him, and he shakes his head so that his mane of hair falls over his shoulders.

"You're incorrigible," he tells you - and then he is pushing forth into you, and your mind goes white of anything but the feel of Jing Yuan inside of you, his cock, your cunt, where they meld together and you become one--

Wait.

Why has he stopped?

"Jing Yuan--!"

He swallows your cry of his name with a kiss that is anything but lazy, tongue exploring your mouth, teeth tugging at your bottom lip until you're dizzy with it all. He tastes, just a little, like sweets.

He pulls back just enough to look at you half-lidded, the tip of his cock just stretching you out.

"I'm merely taking my time," he tells you. "Whilst I have it."

Luocha is mean, you think, even as his words remain unfailingly genteel. Even as his face remains a polite mask, he leaves his cock not-quite inside of you as you tremble against the wall he has you bodily pressed up against.

"Please," you breathe out to him, teary-eyed, lip trembling. "Y-you can't just leave it there--"

He cocks one eyebrow, his face unfairly pretty - unfairly unruffled, even with the tip of his cock buried in you. He's unfailingly still - almost as if the hot tightness of your cunt pulsing around him has no effect on him whatsoever. One long, elegant hand curves around your cheek as a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He's big. You can't help but squirm against the concrete, your cunt wrapped around only the head of his cock but feeling like you've taken far, far more.

"We're in public," he says to you, voice just a little condescending. "If I were to go about this more . . . vigorously, surely you wouldn't want the attention of every person in the vicinity on you?"

Your own need feels like a thrum inside of you. It's hard to think, as Luocha moves his hips the barest fraction and you find yourself whining aloud. Firmly, he moves the hand on your cheek so that it's pressed over your mouth, muffling your noises.

"You can't take more than this," he tells you, voice calm and patient. "Not here. Not now."

You whimper into his gloved palm, tears beading in your eyes like little diamonds. Even that doesn't seem to move him, though he tips his head to one side, vaguely considering. He moves his hand just enough for you to take a breath, and whisper beseechingly;

"I-if not here . . . will you do it somewhere else?"

He laughs only one soft, musical little noise. He leans in close, his breath cool against your neck.

"Mm . . . but when you ask like that--"

You cry out as he pushes another inch of himself into you, eyes widening as the noise breaks the calm, cool air. Luocha pauses.

"Oh dear," he says. "I suppose we'll have to both come quickly then, hmm?"

[girlkisser13]

speak now

"i hear the preacher say, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’" "there's the silence, there's my last chance" "i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me" "horrified looks from everyone in the room" "but i'm only looking at you"

pairings: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with fluff at the end. you fell first, anthony fell harder. the reader is daphne’s best friend.

summary: anthony comes to a realization the night before your wedding— the wedding where you’re supposed to be marrying someone else.

the moonlight cast a soft glow over the elegant drawing-room of bridgerton house. anthony stood by the window, lost in thought, as daphne entered the room. she had just returned to london, bringing with her news that had unsettled him to the core.

"why have i not heard of this in lady whistledown’s columns?" he had demanded, pacing the room.

"it was kept private," daphne replied, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "y/n did not wish for any undue attention. the wedding is tomorrow, anthony."

"tomorrow?" he stopped in his tracks, a look of determination hardening his features. without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the house, ignoring daphne’s calls after him.

the night was deep when anthony arrived at your family home. the world around him was silent, the only sound his hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. he knocked on the door with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. when you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

"anthony? what are you doing here?" you whispered urgently, glancing around to ensure no one else saw. "it is improper for you to be here at this hour."

"i had to see you," he replied, his voice a fervent plea. "you cannot marry him."

you shook her head, "anthony, this is madness. you should not be here. think of our families’ reputations.”

“i do not care about reputations," he insisted, stepping closer. "i care about you, y/n. i cannot stand by and watch you marry a man you do not love."

your eyes filled with tears, but you quickly blinked them away. "you do not love me, anthony. you only say this because i am soon to be wed. please, leave before someone sees you."

his heart ached at your words, but he pressed on. "y/n, i have always loved you. even when you were merely daphne’s bothersome friend. my feelings are not sudden. they have always been there, growing stronger with each passing day."

you shook your head again, more vehemently this time. "no, anthony. this is not right. you must go."

with that, you turned and fled up the stairs, leaving him standing in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air.

returning to bridgerton house, anthony found daphne waiting for him, a knowing look in her eyes. "where have you been?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i went to see y/n. i professed my love to her, but she does not believe me."

daphne’s expression softened. "anthony, she has loved you since the moment she stepped into our home. you must show her that your feelings are genuine. if you truly love her, you must fight for her."

her words resonated deeply with him, and he resolved to do whatever it took to prevent the marriage.

the morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear, the air filled with a sense of anticipation. the church was adorned with flowers, the pews filled with friends and family. anthony took his seat, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he was about to do. as the ceremony commenced, he watched you walk down the aisle, your face a mask of composure. when the bishop inquired if there were any objections, anthony rose to his feet.

"i do," he declared, his voice ringing out in the silence.

gasps echoed through the congregation. your parents exchanged shocked glances, and the groom’s face darkened with anger.

his mother, seated next to him, grasped his arm with urgency.

"anthony, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

ignoring her, anthony kept his gaze fixed on you, your face had turned pale with shock. he moved his arm away from his mother’s touch, his resolve unshaken.

"i cannot let this happen," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

your eyes were wide with a mix of emotions. without a word, you fled the church, the weight of anthony’s declaration heavy on your heart. you ran to the one place where you could find solace—the apple tree in your family’s garden.

you stood beneath the apple tree, your breaths coming in ragged bursts. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the garden as anthony approached you. your eyes, still red from crying, met his with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"go away, anthony," you whispered, turning away from him. "you have humiliated me enough. no man will want to marry me now."

"how did you even find me?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

anthony, catching his breath, gave a soft, sad smile. "i have seen you come here before. when the demands of society became too much at the balls held at your family home, you would retreat here to find solace."

your brow furrowed in surprise, you turned to face him. "you have been watching me?"

he nodded, his gaze tender. "i have always kept an eye on you, even if you did not know it. i wanted to ensure that you were safe and that you had a place to escape when you needed it."

your heart ached with the realization of his quiet vigilance. "you knew?"

"yes," anthony replied softly. "i knew. and i could not let you marry someone who did not see you as you truly are. you deserve to be loved fully, and i have always felt that love for you."

he knelt beside you, gently taking your hands. reluctantly, you met his gaze, and in his eyes, you saw an intensity you had never witnessed before. "i am terribly sorry for ruining your ceremony, but i simply could not bear to see you marry another. alas, i am a gentleman. if you do not feel the same, i will leave and never bother you again."

your heart ached with the depth of your feelings. "i desire no one else. i have always wanted you, but i never believed you could feel the same. i think you have ruined me for everyone else."

anthony’s grip on your hands tightened. "it is you who have ruined me, y/n. my heart is so full of you that i can hardly call it my own."

with a sob, you threw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

anthony held you close, your heart swelling with joy and relief. "i am yours, y/n. nothing will ever change that."

in the quiet of the garden, beneath the shade of the apple tree, your love found its voice, a love that had always been destined to be.

[mcflymemes]

DRAGON AGE: THE VEILGUARD PROMPTS PT 3 *  assorted dialogue from the third and fourth hour of the video game

my information was accurate.

now you realize the danger is real.

you are asking for knowledge no mortal in this world is privy to.

i need to know what makes you the right person to lead the fight.

i stopped you, didn't i?

i find a way to get the job done, whatever it takes.

how do we stop them from doing it?

that will give you time.

i gave no orders. all i offer are suggestions.

i... regret what happened.

you've gotta take point on this.

i can't do what you do.

i've barely been holding it together in the short time you've been out.

you just need to get it done.

remember when we first met?

you did most of the work.

you've got a knack for finding your way through the wildest shit i've ever seen, with a plan no one expects.

don't worry. i'll still be here to talk if you need me.

how are you feeling about it?

it doesn't matter how i feel about it.

you made a decision with the best information you had. sometimes you do that, and people end up hurt. or worse.

a good leader isn't someone who never makes mistakes. it's someone who admits when they make one.

not everyone was happy about my decision.

i wish i could be out there with you, [name].

you're here for leads.

who do we hire to fight that?

i've heard of you.

we don't even know what we lost.

you're busy. i shouldn't interrupt.

what's important is that you're happy.

if we forgot something so important, what else did we forget?

i don't expect you to have an answer.

thanks for letting me babble.

we're short on options.

i cannot protect you.

we can talk business when we arrive.

one day, i will see a knife through every would-be tyrant's throat.

sounds like there's more to it.

what i say doesn't leave this room.

you didn't think to tell me?

well, we're not going that way.

i can't believe all this is underwater.

we're looking for a killer.

who are you? who sent you?

they can use it to control me.

in return, i want help killing some things.

this is what success looks like.

we got your target.

the job's done.

we clearly have things to discuss... somewhere else.

i'm ready to get out of this place.

i don't need time. i need a target.

you just got here and already you want to leave again?

how do you get rid of them?

what's everyone talking about?

that can't be the only solution.

you're bleeding.

i know things have been complicated, but i'm glad you're here.

i owe you a debt.

[mitsvriii]

JEKYLL AND HIDE

summary: when your boyfriend starts acting oddly, you believe that something may be wrong with him. only to find out that the "oddness" came from a product of something else entirely...

cw: mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, odd(?) pacing, semi-rushed ending, not proofread well, possible ooc (first time writing) | wc: 2.1k | taglist: @tetrachrxmacy, @aphrodict, @akutasoda

for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest! the prompt i chose was doppelgänger

“yingxing?” whispering into the night, the shadow of your lover creeping from the doorway. if not for the moonlight making shadows around the outline of his hair, you would’ve thought it was someone else completely. “yingxing what are you doing up? it’s late.”

“...i’m sorry. i had a nightmare.” yingxing stalked over to the bed to sit on the edge, turning his head to scrutinize you, “woke up thirsty.” with a simple glance at your tired expression, he pursed his lips, “you should be asleep.”

“couldn’t sleep, bed got cold.” yingxing hummed in response, sliding in beside you rigidly. dipping into the mattress, you felt his investigative peer at your form; however, he didn’t comment anything else before turning on his side. frowning at the lack of affection you reached a hand out to run through his hair, an inexplicable habit. 

the bed was still cold even after he had gotten back in it.

—

“are you hungry?” pressing a chaste kiss to a pallid cheek, you slid over a plate of freshly cut strawberries and cherries - which you couldn’t tell were unripened - while squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “i’m still making pancakes, but here’s something sweet to tie you over until then, okay?”

yingxing looked disinterested in your words, hand hovering over the strawberry slices before quickly plucking up a cherry. without a second thought he popped the entire thing in his mouth, swallowing it without even blinking.

oh, okay. 

with an awkward pat to his shoulder, you returned to tend to the other food. yinxing was quiet the entire morning, oddly enough. going without giving you morning forehead kisses, not offering to fix dinner like he normally does, hell, he didn’t even spare you a glance when you screamed the other day because a small pool of hair dye looked like blood.

speaking of hair dye…

when the hell did yingxing decide to dye his hair?

it wasn’t as white as it used to be. now sporting a more grey hue, the roots borderning black instead of an ashen. and to make matters worse, the sight of the spot of not-blood in the bathroom looks like he had done it sporadically. it was odd, having to take on the product of an inattentive change between the both of you. you barely existed to him anymore, only being spoken to if he needed reminders of your outings or activities together. 

you didn’t want to ask. in fact, you were honestly nervous to. if he switched personalities overnight just a week ago, there’s no solid idea of how he would react if you questioned that. perhaps you should just keep your mouth shut instead of bringing it over breakfast. it would be better for both of you. 

but, alas, sometimes you cannot keep things in if they’re already about to burst at the seams.

the absolute second that the question of “are you okay?” left your mouth, it was as if the old yingxing had returned. long gone was the robotic man that had been walking aimlessly around your house for the past month. the tenderness in his voice filling to the brim again, his cold hands squeezing yours and providing just enough warmth that for a second, you’d believe that maybe the observations you’d made were just a figment of your imagination.

for a second, though.

as soon as his eyes met yours, there was a different aura within the air. his smile was more forced as his eyes crinkled around the edges just enough to tell you that you needed to let it go. it was nothing but a one-time thing, even though you knew it wasn’t. his attitude was a product of stress brought from a nightmare, which was odd because when he normally has them he doesn’t comment on them so as to not stress you out. the weird movements were apart of cramping his hand from hitting it on one of his projects in his office; a product of “an accident”, even though he hadn’t been in it in days as to have a break.

but it was okay, he was okay, you were okay; everything was okay.

night took over the sky quicker that day. the quiet doing nothing more than fueling your nervousness as yingxing slept beside you, an arm around your waist as his mouth parted open, breathing softly.

yingxing never wrapped his arm around your waist. it was always both of his arms, never just one.

in fact, it was the warmth brought on by his embraces that often made you feel as if a warm blanket was draped over your shoulders. kissing your temples as you cooked, swaying back and forth with his arms around your waist as you both danced silently, hums of affection as his hands guided yours when you helped him build his sketched creations. you missed the warmth that he brung, now stuck to withstand the cold.

yingxing seemed to notice the distance growing between both of you, trying to substitute his thin paper for wooden flecks to keep the fire aflame. straying to edges, spurned kisses pressed to cheeks, unwanted touches of so-called affection being something to look forward to everyday.

wonderful, really.

it was still worrying, as if you were living with an entirely different person. 

the more you thought about it, the more you felt uneasy. you knew it was stupid to assume anything was actually okay at this point, but you had a guy in your house that wasn’t even your partner; at least as far as you could tell. 

yingxing didn’t have this super, secret evil twin as much as you knew about him. but the idea of somebody secretly taking his place, or even the pipeline of scenarios in your head of someone wearing his skin…

it scared you. 

getting up as carefully as you could, you crept to the bathroom. opening and closing the door - cursing under your breath when it creaked - you flipped on the light near the sink, staring at where you had seen the blood hair dye. the spot on the tile floor was clean, but you could still envision it perfectly. 

it was hair dye. it was hair dye.

nothing else, nothing more.

it was the knock on the bathroom door that made your heart stop.

“babe?” yingxing never called you babe, it was always sweetheart, “are you okay?”

“just had to use the bathroom.” the lie was shaky. by the way he went quiet, you’re sure he knew it, too. “don’t worry about it, i’ll be back.” why the hell was he following you around like a lost kitten? the one time he decides to actually check up on you is the worst, what a shocker.

“oh. do you need my help?”

swear.

“what?”

a pause.

“i’m sorry, that was odd of me to say.” oh, you think?

the silence was laughable, honestly. one person two people who didn’t even know how to properly communicate with another each other. clearing your voice, you cracked open the door to peek at him.

jeez, his eyes.

it was as if a darkened glass orb was crushed and shifted into two circular shapes. a kaleidoscope of mixed emotions all scattered into one. the darkened colors of maroon twisting with blues of dark greens, his pupils nothing but ink blotches on the canvas. stray bristles mixed within the irises to give them a highlighted countenance. alas, its his eyes were the only thing worth much note on his face. they even appeared as a cheap replica of that belonging to an oil painting. 

“i’m sorry.”

the echoed words rung throughout your head, as if they were a church bell and you were the quiet nave. you hated how you cracked the door back open on pure impulse, the tone in his voice drawing you in to comfort him by pure memory. he sounded sad. you hated when yingxing was sad.

but this wasn’t yingxing, remember?

“why?” asking quietly, the door creaked again as it was stopped by his foot.

yingxing stepped back, as if to give you enough space to squeeze back into the bedroom, “for being distant. for not being myself recently.”

funny timing for an apology, huh. 

“that’s okay.” universe, you hope he couldn’t tell your smile wasn’t as forced as it was within the darkness. “you had that nightmare, remember?” grabbing his hand in yours, you tried not to flinch at the sheer chill that shot up through your body once you grabbed it. “not your fault.”

whoever wrote your part in this script was at risk of getting their neck wrung. why couldn’t you be the possible-but-almost-certain imposter? it would’ve been easier than playing the naive rat that wasn’t aware of the rat looming on the kitchen counter. 

yingxing didn’t say anything, allowing you to lead him back to the bed. “we can just worry about this all tomorrow, okay? it’s late. we can walk to the café and get coffee like we do every monday morning.” you froze when yingxing stopped, the backs of your knees hitting the bed’s corner. “yingxing?” 

those eyes bore into you as he moved his hand out of your grasp, staring at you. the clouds hide away the moon from the sight, leaving you squinting to make out his silhouette. a hoarse right was mumbled under his breath as he slid onto the side of his bed; the movement not as stiff as it was yesterday. you followed suit, doing your utmost not to shake as you pulled the duvet further up your body.

you and yingxing went out on wednesdays for coffee, not mondays.

—

the universe had decided that you deserved a break, so when you woke up to the sound of heavy rain on your windows, you nearly jumped for joy. at least now you wouldn’t have to deal with the onslaught of questions from the barista about why you and yinxing were two days earlier than normal, and you wouldn’t have to stomach the latter’s stares. 

but on the downside, you were now stuck with a yinxing you weren’t even positive was yingxing. perhaps your previous doubts were factual. this wasn’t your boyfriend and you’ve been living with something someone completely random. 

oh god…you let him sleep in your bed. even if you weren’t aware, the point still stands.

“are you okay?”

its his voice pulled you up and over the wave that nearly drowned you in your thoughts, the saccharine tone making your teeth ache. how could it pretend that nothing was wrong? was it simply emotionless?

or had it not had enough human experience to learn how to produce them?

“fine”, you choked out, wincing as the sting of the seasoning on your takeout hit the back of your throat. “sorry, the food's just a bit spicy.” yingxing seemed to take the response in a positive light, or positive as in not questioning your response. 

and more silence. great.

it had become unnerving, not welcoming. as much as you’d not like to listen to not-yingxing's voice grating your ears like nails on a chalkboard. a grater with a sharp blade – oh.

blade. not-yingxing shall be dubbed blade.

but if you were to pull it out of your side, you’re sure that you’d only bleed out. left in your own misery of not letting everything try to stick back together like glue. lifting your head to look at blade, you noticed that he was staring at you. was he a mind reader as well? just your luck, something to dig into your thoughts and expose them in front of yourself. 

“would you like to see him?”

a pause. 

the air seemed to get thicker as your utensils almost slipped out of your hand. rearranged your grip, you swallowed; the salvia hitting your dry throat and going down harshly. “i’m sorry?”

“i asked you if you’d like to see him.” blade tilted his head at you, questioningly. “surely you do not believe that i’ve not read you?”

you felt your stomach twist in disgusting ways when blade stood up, eyes still on you as he moved to the doorway. “come with me.” fading, fading, fading down the hall and into yingxing’s office.

the office that hadn’t been occupied since blade appeared.

scrambling up from the table you brushed past blade, whose footsteps stopped, and you swore you heard a chuckle bubbling out of his throat. shaking as you reached for the door handle, you closed your eyes and twisted the knob. opening to gaze within the room, you felt your blood run cold in your body.

and you screamed.