#I am quite well! Events tiring me out but I am keeping up. }

[lis-likes-fics]

At the End of the Day

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3

He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.

He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.

You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.

“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.

He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”

He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.

Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”

You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.

“The children miss you,” you speak gently.

He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”

“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”

You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.

“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”

In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”

“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”

That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”

“I am still not finished.”

He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”

You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”

He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”

“And then you’ll go back to work.”

“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”

You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”

He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.

He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”

You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”

He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.

You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”

“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.

You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.

Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”

“Tommy–”

“I promise,” he insists.

You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”

He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”

He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”

“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.

You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.

He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.

“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”

His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.

After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”

He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.

When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”

“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.

He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”

You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”

He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”

He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.

He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.

He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.

It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.

“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”

“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.

He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”

But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”

You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.

“Love, I–”

Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”

He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.

He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.

The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.

You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.

You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.

And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”

He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.

“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.

“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”

He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.

But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.

He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”

You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”

He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.

He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.

Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”

He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.

“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”

You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.

He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.

He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”

You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.

“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”

You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.

“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”

He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.

He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.

You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.

“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.

Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.

He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.

You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.

He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.

“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”

Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.

He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”

You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 Tag yourself here...

[tired-teacher-blog]

It's not unusual for him to come home late, way past midnight or even later at times.

It's his usual schedule that you've grown used to over the years of being linked to the pro hero, it's even more expected now, after the conclusion of the bloodiest war you've come to witness, the one that unfortunately took the lives of many, villains, heroes and civilians alike.

It's a tragedy that everyone recalls to this day, almost a year later, and news outlets still report its events in remembrance of the many souls that perished..

The cities that were affected by the attacks are still under construction, and everyone, heroes and civilians, are working tirelessly to rebuild them.

You placed your phone down with a huff and closed your eyes again, it was almost two in the morning, a little too late to be outside, even for him, you weren't worried though, since it's as safe as it can be, but his cold empty spot right beside you was unbearable.

You struggled to keep your eyes open for a bit longer, just enough until his arms are finally wrapped around you, and his lips are covering every inch of your skin they can reach.

He was going to be there soon, you were sure of it, so resting your eyes for a while until he was, should be alright..

_ "umm.. Shouta, is that you?" your voice was groggy but barely audible.

How long have you been unconscious? Obviously enough to miss his return.

_ "Yeah I'm home princess, sorry for being too late but you know how it is." he whispered against your nape and nibbled on your skin playfully before placing a soft kiss there, he sounded sleepy himself though his big calloused hands were restlessly exploring your body to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

The sweet smell of his shampoo and shower gel invaded your nose as you slowly regained your senses, this only meant that he's been home for quite a while.

_ "I missed you," you placed your hands on his, and craned your neck wishing to catch a glimpse of the man holding you close, and the sight you were encountered with heated up your whole body.

Droplets of water were traveling through his luscious raven locks to land on his gorgeous face, dark circles mixed with his deep scars, a tired smile brightening his pale cheeks, and a glint in his left eye that you could not decipher for the life of you.

_ "I missed you too honey, so let me show you just how much I did." he pushed his hips until you felt the outline of his hardness nudging your butt, and the uncontrollable squeal leaving your throat coaxed an amused chuckle to leave his own.

_ "Are you serious?" you twisted yourself a bit in his hold to stare at him in a threatening manner that didn't seem effective as he purposefully ignored your warning to slip his hand into your shorts.

_ "I am." he replied confidently and pulled you flush to him, your back -once again- resting against his toned chest.

Your eyes suddenly widened as sleep completely escaped you, and your mind turned into mush when he pulled off your shorts along with your panties.

You'd be lying to say this wasn't what you wished for as well, and the tingling sensation rocking your insides was proof of your desire for him.

His long fingers caressed your thigh before moving to fondle your glistening clit lazily while his lips were trailing the softest kisses along your nape and shoulders, and you absentmindedly pushed your hips against the slender digits driving you to madness as you wanted more and weren't afraid to demand it: "I want you, now."

You instantly felt his smirk against your flushed skin as he slurred a sensuous "you got me princess" before quickly pulling out his fingers and leaving you desperately squeezing around nothing, as you impatiently waited for a delicious intrusion that came soon after.

_ "You feel so good, ah fuck! So wet for me." his movements were slow and deep, as if to carve your core as he pleases, a silent statement and a promise that you will always belong to him, and only him.

One arm snuck under your side, while the other hoisted your leg up for better access as he picked up the pace.

You were close, really close, and so was he, as evident by his erratic thrusts and burning breath fanning over your shoulder as he mouthed your name over and over again.

_ "Don't stop.. Shouta please, keep going.. I'm cumming.." you choked out between hard plunges and fisted the already crumpled bedsheets beneath you.

_ "Yes go ahead love, don't hold back and cum for me," and his words were magic, stripping away what was left of your sanity to push you over the edge in mere seconds, "yes, just like that."

The fluttering of your walls around his pulsating cock was enough to make him lose his mind as well, his thick load spilling deep within as you greedily milked him dry.

His hips jerked and movements wavered a little bit more until they finally halted, and all that was left was a trail of his pearly seeds trickling out of your quivering cunt as he finally pulled out of you.

He held you close and buried his face in your shoulder, breathing ruggedly for a moment before murmuring apologetically, "I'm sorry sweetheart, I lost control."

You smiled hearing his bashful plea and squeezed the arms pinning you in place, "it's okay Shouta, I liked it," a reassurance that seemed sufficient for him to finally relax, and return the satisfied grin adorning your lips.

[black00olive]

With you, always (unfortunately)

A/N: Reader can be interpreted as any gender

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Wordcount: ~1,300 (very lightly proof-read)

Summary: It was Lucifer’s turn to cook dinner but student council work had forced the two of you to stay back late. So, instead you propose the idea of buying some takeout on your way home for everyone. As always with your wonderful ideas, Lucifer agrees and the two of you head to Hell's Kitchen. However, as he opens his wallet to pay for our giant order (the curse that comes with living with the Avatar of Gluttony) something catches your attention— rather a photo tucked safely into a clear slot of his wallet. A photo of you. There's no way you're not going to take this opportunity to tease the hell out of him. Or, Lucifer keeps a photo of you in his wallet and quickly grows very embarrassed when you point it out. In public, as well.

The unfortunate side effect of becoming part of the student council is days like these. Granted, you had willingly agreed to stay after with Lucifer at RAD to finish up some of the work for the upcoming event (which event was it now again? Diavolo holds so many you can barely keep track of them anymore) but that wouldn’t stop you from complaining a little. In your mind of course. You gather the papers Lucifer had finished going over and put them in their respective folders. Silence fills the room as the two of you harmoniously work to at least make a little dent in the giant pile of paperwork. Why do these events always result in so much paperwork?

As if Lucifer could sense all the complaining you were doing in your mind he speaks up: “Let us wrap it up here.” Shock is the primary emotion that takes over once you process his words— glee being the secondary emotion. Lucifer, workaholic, Morningstar is willingly not working on the paperwork until you force him to stop? You glance at the pile of paperwork that had just barely changed in size since you had started then turn your gaze back at him.

“I can tell you’re growing tired with all of the paperwork, soon enough you would start whining about it out loud,” he sighs as you send him a glare, a little offended at how accurate he was. “And furthermore, I am incharge of dinner tonight. We’ve already stayed out far too long for me to make a proper dinner, we stay out any later and we might end up with Beel destroying the house again.” You accept that, you had wanted to head home as soon as possible anyway. Lucifer straightens out his uniform as you subconsciously end up doing the same, not missing the small smirk that forms at his lips once he notices.

“Hey, let’s just buy some takeout on our way home. I’ll be quicker and the sooner we get Beel food the better, y’know?” You suggest, Beel isn’t the only reason you suggested it though. You can tell Lucifer is quite tired himself and cooking for what could basically count as 16 people is something that takes a lot of energy. However, if you were to point that out he would glare at you, claim that he’s the furthest thing from tired, and stubbornly cook a dinner for 32 people instead.

“Alright,” he nods, “you’re right that the sooner we get food to Beel the better. So, I suppose we can have takeout today. Let us pass by Hell’s Kitchen then.”

We enter Hell’s Kitchen as servers rush past. No surprise, they are a very popular restaurant. You follow as Lucifer heads up to the register. Effortlessly he starts listing his and each of his brothers’ favourite orders, Beel’s order taking about twice as long as all of the brothers’ orders combined. The worker’s face grows paler and paler as Lucifer continues without pause. Once he finally finishes he turns towards you and you say your order. The poor worker hesitantly repeats our order back to us and Lucifer nods as he pulls out his wallet. Mammon must have been rubbing off on you too much as your attention instantly strays to the wallet as you look at everything he keeps in there. Several different credit cards— Goldie included—, some receipts, and a couple of membership cards for different services’. That’s all to be expected in the wallet of someone like Lucifer, but what really catches your attention this time is a photo. Tucked safely into one of the flaps of the wallet that has a clear side.

What catches your attention even more is the fact that the photo is of you. Just you. It would have made sense if it was a family photo, with you and his brothers, but nope. You feel a smirk pull at the corner of your lips at the same time you feel your heart melt a little at the prospect that Lucifer had wanted to keep you with him at all times. Your urge to tease him about it was just as strong as your urge to coo at him. Satisfyingly, both would be equally as embarrassing to Lucifer.

Lucifer puts his wallet away after he finishes paying and the two of you go to stand further away as you wait for the unfortunate workers to finish your order. You have enough self-restraint to not point it out right in front of the worker and wait until you are at least a little more obscure from all of the other guests when you point it out. “It’s really cute of you to keep a picture of me in your wallet, Luci.” Of course, being a little more obscure didn’t mean that demons weren’t keenly paying attention to the two of you (when you’re out attention tends to always be on you anyway), both the curse and blessing of being a part of the Student Council. A blessing in this case as Lucifer knows just as well as you that the demons are desperate for anything they could gossip about, and in your opinion “Lord Lucifer keeps a picture of the newest Student Council Officer, the former human exchange student, in his wallet at all times?!” is a great header for the tabloids.

Lucifer glares at you, probably both for pointing out the picture and for using that nickname out in public, as he scoffs. “I do not keep a photo of you in my wallet, we must get your eyes checked soon. Humans shouldn’t be seeing things that are not there.” You roll your eyes at his response, you know very well what you saw and he wasn’t going to make you seem insane. As quickly as possible with your human body you grab onto his uniform and reach for his pocket where he kept his wallet. Lucifer is faster though, not super shocking news, and grabs onto your wrist. It doesn’t hurt, you note as you try to free yourself, but you really aren’t given any wiggle room here.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He sighs as you try to get your wrist out of his hold again, to no avail.

“I was going to grab your wallet,” you say as nonchalantly as if you were talking to him about the weather, “I mean, if I was really seeing things you should be okay with me checking your wallet, right?” A deep scowl starts to form on his face as you continue to press him with a face full of mock shock. “Unless…” You gasp. “You were lying to me, Luci? Don’t tell me you were trying to gaslight me! Really, what am I supposed to do with you? There’s no need to be ashamed of keeping a picture of me in your wallet. Really, I support it, I know you can be pretty desperate and clingy so this way you can still keep me with you at all times,” you tease him.

Lucifer’s scowl deepens even more— you didn’t know how that was possible— as he practically sends you a death glare. You’re sure that if you had been anyone else you would have withered away on the spot, but you’re not anyone else and you can tell he’s just trying to hide how flustered he is. “You humans always spout such inane things,” is all he says as he lets go of your hand. You carefully note how he hadn’t really disagreed with what you had said. Of course he wouldn’t, you both know nothing you had said had been nothing but the truth. You also manage to catch how the tips of his ears are bright red before he quickly walks to the pick-up area.

“Our order isn’t ready yet. You know that right, Luci?”

[dduane]

Hello,

I am currently getting excited about visiting my first WorldCon.

So I wondered if you'll attend? And if so, what's your protocoll for being accosted by strangers (aka me 🙈)?

Also, do you have any tips for a firsty? 🥺

Mel

Hi there!

Unfortunately @petermorwood and I can't make Worldcon in Glasgow this time out. We will be guesting in a week and a bit at the International Discworld Convention in Birmingham (to which we committed last year).

We were open to the possibility that we might be able to do Glasgow as well. But a combination of financial and health issues—the "health" issues meaning the arthritis in my hips and the disc trouble in my lower spine—have over the last six months made it plain that trying to do two conventions in one month wasn't going to work out. (shrug/sigh) Them's the breaks. Sorry about that: we'll miss you.

Meanwhile, you should have a great time there! And a first time at Worldcon is always a blast.

Some advice in passing:

(1) First, and maybe most important: strategize. This is quite a large event compared to other conventions you might have done (besides media megacons like SDCC or similar).

There'll be multiple programming tracks with all kinds of things going on. So take your time, spend some time examining whatever downloadable form of their program that the con may be making available, and see what interests you most.

Make a list of what you want to see. Do some ranking of items. Add a few interesting alternates in case items get changed or delayed.

(2) Once you're on site: get clear as quickly as you can on how long it will take you to get from wherever you're staying to where the programming is happening. Take note of how long it takes to get around from one part of the convention centre to another. Once you have this basic data, be aware that you'll probably need to add time to account for slow elevetors (in hotels or at the con venues) and to deal with lines that may form up outside of busy popular events.

(3) Don't forget to set aside some time to see both the dealers' room(s) and the art show. I never did get to see the art show in Dublin in 2019, which continues to drive me a bit nuts (as I have a long history of volunteering at Worldcon art shows).

(4) Keep an eye on your food and drink intake. Make sure to eat. Make sure to stay hydrated! ...It is surprisingly easy to forget to do one or both of these at a Worldcon when things start to get exciting.

There are usually places in the venue itself where you can grab a sandwich and a soft drink if you have no time for anything else. Seriously, make sure you take time to do this.

Also. if you've got the spare cash to do it: Watch out for people who need feeding but don't have the cash. Do what you can to assist them. There are routinely some folks around who've spent every penny getting to the con, and as a result have shortchanged themselves on the money they need to eat. Feeding the hungry is a good thing to do.

(5) Make sure you sleep. Cons are not pleasant when you're so tired you're hallucinatory, or microsleeping without warning and falling down stairs and escalators and things.

(6) If you like to dance, try to make it to John Scalzi's dance party! These are always memorable. John does the DJ-ing, and does a great job of it.

(7) Go outside and breathe the fresh air occasionally. While doing so, please do your best not to fall in the Clyde. :)

(8) Go to the bars, whether you plan to drink alcoholically or not. UK conventions have a long tradition of Bar Cons, where writers routinely congregate between program items, sometimes in surprising numbers. At this one in particular, since George R. R. Martin seems to not be on any panels, he has said he's going to be "in the bar" meeting people a lot: so that's something to think about.

(9) Other than that: meet people, talk to people, be excited about stuff, learn about new stuff to be excited about! That's always been the great joy of Worldcons for me.

And have a great con!

[xoxoavenger]

Hey! Since you’re taking requests, can I request a sort of part two (not necessarily it could jsut be a stand alone) to Days of Future Past where what if younger Charles had a wife in the 70s where reader decides to break it off with Charlie’s casue the love she had for him begun to slowly dwindle because of all the events that happened in the last fic. And while she does care for him as the father of her son and fully expects him to still be in his sons life, she can’t be with him anymore since it’s to much

Broken

pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

word count: 739

warnings: angst, no comfort

notes: Days Of Future Past was posted a year ago for my birthday celebration, so it's only fitting that I post the long awaited part 2 for another birthday celebration 🥰

Days Of Future Past (part 1)

birthday celebration main masterlist

The thing about change is that it doesn't happen overnight.

When Logan went back to his own time, Y/N never expected Charles to go back to normal immediately. She knew it would be an uphill battle. But she was pregnant and tired of waiting.

"You're joking." Charles says. They're in his study, Y/N standing even though she is due in a week. They haven't had any conversations that aren't about their son since Logan came, and they need to have this conversation before there's a baby taking up all their time. When she brought up her decision, he didn't seem to like it.

"I know you're on cocaine." She says point blank. She's known for awhile, but it's finally time to force him to get his shit together.

"If you're going to leave me, you might as well go before our son comes." He doesn't think she'll actually do it. He goes back to his work, sitting behind his desk as if she'll huff and walk out. But His words just make her more sure in her decision. She takes a deep breath and looks over at him.

"Charles. I am leaving you. We're not arguing about that right now. What we're talking about is if you're going to be in our son's life or not." She can tell this makes Charles mad, but she has to think of herself and her son. She can't stay with Charles, not when he continuously puts her through tough times. She doesn't know how she's even gotten through this pregnancy when all he's done is get high or drunk and act like she wasn't pregnant for six months.

"What the fuck?" Charles blinks, looking up slowly. "You can't just leave as we're about to have a kid!" His argument infuriates her.

"I'm not in love with you anymore!" She screams, the room going completely quiet. They stare at each other, both hurting.

"What does that mean?" He whispers, and she almost wants to take it back. She can't though, because it's the truth.

"I'll always love you, Charles." She tells him, walking closer slowly. "But after what you put me through, I'm not in love with you."

"I need you." He tells her, reaching out when she gets close enough and grabbing her hand. "I can't get through life without you."

"I'll be here." She assures, moving his hand to her protruding stomach. "There will be a piece of us in this world soon, and I would go through everything again for him. But you and I cannot work together. At least not now." Tears begin to fall from Charles' eyes.

"I can quit." He mutters, and she nods.

"I know you can. And you're going to for our son." She moves to sit on his desk. He puts his head against her stomach, tears soaking her shirt.

"I need you." He repeats, and she just shakes her head.

"Our son needs you." She cards her hands through his hair. "Maybe in another time, we can be together, but you've put me through too much."

"I'm sorry." He finally whispers, and she nods, trying not to cry. "I love you so much."

"I know you do." She tells him. A part of her feels bad. She knows he's trying. But it's too little too late, and she can't sacrifice any more of herself.

"I can change." He promises.

"Charles," She pulls away from him, looking down. "I know you can change. But I can't wait for it. I can't keep giving up pieces of myself to fix you." She feels the need to kiss him, for the comfort and the repetitiveness. But it'll only hurt worse.

"I don't need to be fixed. I just need time." He begs, and it's the same thing Y/N has heard over and over.

"I don't have time to give you." She tells him truthfully, moving away from him now. "Our baby will be brilliant. He will have two loving parents. But they will not be together. For their sake and his."

"Y/N," He starts, but he doesn't have anything left to say. He has nothing left to beg with.

"I love and care for you." She whispers. "But I am not in love with you. You have taken things from me that you cannot give back. Broken things you can't repair. And I can't forgive you for that."

She walks out without looking back, going to move her stuff out of their room. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace  @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

[mayullla]

Hi! Can I request cyno 🍁+🦋 please?

Title: Friendship Chocolates

Character(s): Cyno (Genshin Impact) Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, stalking, unrequited pining, jealousy, Cyno watching you sleep, soft yandere Cyno, 1k words

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

Is... is this for me?" Cyno asked, staring at the chocolates in front of him. An open bag of chocolates was in his hand, which he had opened when you placed it in his hands, telling him that it was for him.

"Yes, it is for you, silly," you laughed at his surprised face, blinking at it as if he expected it to just vanish from his hand. "I made them with Lisa, actually. Me and her wanted to try making chocolates ourselves, and it was surprisingly easy. We made a ton of them, and I am planning to pass them to all our friends." You looked away, listing names in your head that you wanted to give, not seeing Cyno's reaction as he froze for just a moment.

He was quiet for a moment, and you assumed that he was listening when he cut you off. "They... they are good." You looked at him, about to complain that he cut you off, but when you saw his face looking at the chocolate with a little bit of surprise and fondness, you could not help but smile a little. The chocolates were bite-size, some were just chocolate while others were chocolate-coated nuts and berries. You also got a few biscuits (not enough time to make them from scratch) and coated them with it.

"I am glad you like them," you told him, thinking to yourself that you should have given him a bit more if he liked them this much. "If you want more, just tell me, alright? Me and Lisa made milk chocolate and dark chocolate versions, so drop by my place if you want to grab some more." Telling Cyno that you were going to head out, you said a quick goodbye and left him to himself as he looked at the chocolates.

You had been a little bit worried, to be honest, that the chocolate would have melted under the sun and made sure to pack them well in your bag with an ice pack to keep it somewhat cool. Layla had been kind enough to make a small ice shield on your back to keep the heat out when you met her.

As the sun went down, you finally reached your home, placing your now empty bag of chocolate down. What was left was your study books in another section, while you had already gotten rid of the watered-down ice pack in the middle of the day. Stretching as you thought about the day, quite happy with the reactions your friends gave you when you gave them the chocolates. You felt happy to give, and while none of them were romantic, you wanted to give your friends a little something for the day.

It was fun making the chocolate with Lisa from scratch. Stretching and yawning, tired from the day, you started to get ready for dinner after doing a bit of house organizing and cleaning. After that, you were ready for bed. Tired, darkness quickly took you away into a deep sleep, unknown to you, someone was standing and guarding your house on top of a tree branch.

Cyno watched you sleep, even from far away, he felt as if he was so close to you. So close that he could hear your breathing and watch as your chest moved up and down, slowly breathing as if indicating your sleep. Unlike you, who found today to be relatively nice, Cyno had mixed feelings towards today. He still could feel his heart beating in his chest when you gave him those chocolates.

For a moment, he thought that you were confessing to him, admitting that you loved him just as much as he loved you. Yet those thoughts were quickly dashed when you mentioned that you were giving chocolate to all your friends. He felt heartbroken and almost betrayed, but then he fell in love with you again when he saw how excited you were as you chatted about making the chocolate with Lisa. In his eyes, you were lovely... so lovely.

He quickly headed to Lisa when you left, demanding to know why she didn't tell him that you and she were making chocolates. "I can't invite a boy all of a sudden when it's a girls' time, don't you think so?" Lisa teased him, laughing when she heard about what happened between you and Cyno. "That girl is so cute, having the famed Cyno wrapped around her finger yet none the wiser. How many could do that? Probably only enough to count on one hand."

Lisa laughed again as she watched Cyno huff in annoyance. "You are also quite adorable, so in love to the point that you would follow her wherever she goes. I heard that you beat up those men who tried to hit on her a few days ago. Does she know about it?"

"I wonder how she would react if she found out what you are really like. That matter is rather tame compared to the other things that you have done. Be careful, dear, with that little obsession you have there. Only one misstep and it's over for your cute little relationship."

Cyno knew that. He had known for a long time that he was so in love with you to the point of insanity. He wanted to protect you, he wanted to hold you. He craved your touch and his hand on yours. There were days when he just could not bear it and wanted nothing more than to take you away for himself.

The many things that he was willing to do just for you... there were already too many that he did. Too many to count. He was willing to do anything for you, willing to do anything to protect you. All the dark thoughts, he hid them, and all the gruesome things he had done just for you, he hid everything.

He loved you so much that he would do anything.

[quiet-saint]

𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞/𝐆𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Dante/Gn!reader

Cw: +18/mdni, sorry my hand slipped and it got nsfw at the end my bad gang.

A/n: lowkey a warm up bc I want to expand on this later. Also new to hc format. Not really proofread as always.

♡

• Values privacy when it comes to your relationship. Doesn't want you to have to endure the press/paparazzi or potential stalkers so he does his absolute best to keep your relationship secret.

• Honestly will get you anything. Constantly lavishing you with gifts. Lowkey a sugar daddy in that regard? Oh well he has the money this time lmfao I'm talking clothes, flowers, jewlery, hell even a car if that's what you want. You don't ask him for much though. His presence and quality time is more than enough.

• Will also take you anywhere you want but as stated earlier, Dante likes to keep your realtionship private because he doesn't want any harm to come to you. So it's tricky. You two are under the radar when you actually go out on a date. It's a bit stressful so you two don't do it often. Whatever, you both prefer staying in anyway.

• Will NOT wear his signature red leather jacket on his way to your place or from it. Too recognizable. Keeps it hidden away.

• Goes to your place the majority of the time because it's easier and he finds his house too lonely. Yours is far cozier and welcoming.

• As such there's quite a bit of Dante's stuff at your place. A guitar, photos he took while on the road, his clothes, keepsakes from other artists. You have to put his stuff away in a closet when you have guests over so they don't ask questions.

• You do however have a photo of him framed—a particularly nice one in which Dante is seated on your couch with his guitar in hand, mid-laugh, his blue eyes bright and crinkling at the corners. You had a hell of a time explaing that. "Why do you have a framed photo of Dante Sparda? Didn't think you'd be one to be a super fan", "Uh, well I am? F-found it online I thought it was cute." "Okay but why do you guys have the same couch and—" You snatched the photo away so fast.

• Of course, being so private had its downsides. Especially when Dante is on the road. You get jealous. Insecurity turns your insides cold, nearly blooming into nausea. Worried Dante will find somebody better, somebody more attractive, somebody he can relate to more when it comes to fame. You call him often and sometimes cry as you tell him over the phone how much you miss him. It tears Dante up inside but he vows to make it up to you whenever he is able.

• Speaking of making it up to you, when Dante gets off tour he's immediately coming to your place. His exhaustion from touring quickly fades once he's in your presence.

• Will 100% be the type of guy to come into your house and yell "honey i'm home!" Because he's honestly been waiting for a moment like that. Someone to come home to, someone to hold close, someone to greet him eagerly and sweetly.

• Dante will be all too happy to make up for lost time. He remembers all the sweet phone calls, filthy texts, and pictures. Dante's pressing you into the mattress within thirty minutes of being home.

• He finds it so sweet and cute when you protest with a little "aren't you tired?" spoken between breath-taking kisses.

• No. No the fuck he isn't. Not when he's home finally and so, so close to you.

• He'll be leaving kisses and marks all over you, telling you how much he missed you while he was on tour all the while working you open with his fingers.

• Also this man is so big on praise.

• "God y'look so pretty angel", "sound so cute baby", "Fuuck it's been forever you're takin me so well" meanwhile you can hardly think, can only take and feel and this man is praising you for it. Clench around him? Praise. Cry his name? Praise. Cum for him? Praiseee.

• Will gently pull you up after you're all done and tug you into the shower with him.

• Will wash your hair while telling you about other artists/bands he's met, interviews, events.

• Then once you two are all clean and dressed comfortably Dante is pulling you back into bed to curl around your back and breathe in the scent of home. He falls asleep adorably quick. Snores loud as hell but you wouldn't give that sound up for anything in the world.

♡

Yeah this started as a hc thing but honestly?? I've been putting way too much thought into a band au it's ridiculous. So maybe I'll expand further. I already wanna do a one shot that delves further into reader and Dante's relationship. Thank you for reading! <3

[vinnyhongnsfwgurl]

1st Vinny Hong FanFic? I literally have no idea what this should be LOL

Hello all Windbreaker fans and Vinny Hong lovers. This is my first Vinny Hong x female reader fanfic. I hope you enjoy and comments/feedback is always welcome! Thanks :3

So, I didn't realize what kind of fanfic this would be after I finished writing it LMAO. Complete despair and heartbreak hahaha. I just chose to write and not think to hard. tbh I'm pretty happy with it. Let me know what you think :) .... also I did not proof read haha I am lazy.

I think I'll do a part 2 to this one!

"y/n? ...... y/n?"

"Y/N?!"

You're head snaps up to look at your mother sitting in the hospital bed next to you. She looked at you slightly worried.

She tilted her head as she asked "Are you okay? I called your name multiple times."

You sat up straighter in your chair and nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I, uh, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment." A lot had happened in the past couple of weeks. My mother got very sick and ended up in the hospital for a second time, nearly dying due to a brain aneurysm. It had put a lot of stress on every part of our lives, mostly financially. We weren't poor, but we certainly did not have the luxury to not work and stay in the hospital for extended periods.

I had thought about picking up extra hours at my part-time job, but I knew it wouldn't help much and I knew my studies would suffer. I was already struggling to keep my grades up. Besides my part-time job, I had to train for the upcoming final race of League of Streets. I was a part of Hummingbird and it was amazing but like my personal life, it was a mess. So much had happened with our team.

The most recent event was Vinny leaving our team deciding to ride with the Ghost crew. He started doing small races for money, which were broadcasted online. I had seen a few. Everyone was confused and upset including me. The whole reason we created Hummingbird was to compete in LOS and win the price money for Vinny's mother but I guess he had different plans in mind.

"It'll be okay honey" my mom said as she reached for my hand. I let let her hold my hand. It was warm and reassuring.

I smiled. "I know mom. I'm glad you're alright .... I was really scared actually." I could feel the pressure behind my eyes build up.

My mom started tearing up. "I know. I know y/n. but it's okay, I'm okay." She squeezed my hand.

I just nodded. "yeah."

After a few minutes and making sure my mother didn't need anything, I hugged her goodbye and started making my way out of the hospital. I took a seat on a bench that was stationed right next to the entrance of hospital. I had taken a bus here and planned on taking it to get back home. It only took me ten minutes to get to the bus stop, so I had a bit of time before I had to leave. I was really tired and too stressed. I found myself looking for more quiet moments out of my day.

I looked out toward the street across from the hospital. It was already dark out, but there was quite a bit of traffic. Honking interrupted the empty, docile night every now and than.

I heard footsteps come around the corner that ended abruptly once they caught up to the bench I was sitting at. As I turned my head to see what or who it was, I hear a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Vinny. It was all I thought as my eyes met his. His red eye seemed strikingly brighter than it usually was. Maybe it's just because I hadn't seen him in awhile.

"Oh. I was visiting my mom. She recently had surgery." I explained. ".... Are you hear to see your mom?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second before answering my question. "Yeah, she's staying here."

"MMm that's good. Glad to hear she is getting treatment" I said.

"What about your mom? Is she okay?"

"oh yeah! The surgery went well, so everything is good." I gave a sheepish thumbs up. I always became painfully aware of how awkward I felt when interacting with Vinny. I was a fairly shy person and it didn't help how handsome I thought he was. It took time in the beginning for us to get along and establish a relationship. It wasn't hard for me to figure out soon after that I was falling in love with him.

There was a lot I learned about him after Hummingbird was formed and the more I learned the more I desired to be near him. He was hot headed and pretty reserved, but it never really bothered me. I always went out of my way to greet him at practice and I chat with him when I could. I never cared if it was just small talk.

He just stared at me for a moment before saying "Good to hear that."

I knew what what was coming next, or what wasn't. This would be the end of our conversation. I didn't want it to be.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He said plainly.

"And Jack?" following it up with a smile.

"He's fine too."

Man of few words I thought. I was used to it but I always wondered what actually behind those words: I'm fine.

"Are you really doing fine? I know I'm probably not the first person you think of when you want to talk to someone, but you're my friend. I'm here for you." I blurted out without much thinking.

When I had mentioned how confusing and upset I was when he left our crew, it was an understatement. I was sad and hurt. I also felt so helpless. He left us all behind and had no desire to return.

I looked down at the backpack I held in my arms. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it seemed enough.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. I know you're having a hard time. I wish you hadn't had to leave the team."

"I don't know why you're apologizing, y/n. You don't need to." He replied.

Vinny walked up closer to me until he stood just a few inches from my feet. I looked up and he gaze had softened just a bit.

"You don't need to worry about me. Just focus on yourself. You have a lot going on."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as Vinny and I held each other's gaze.

Then Vinny turned to leave. "I'll see you later y/n."

Before he took another step, I reached for his hand. It was a light grasp, just enough to stop him.

"Come back to Hummingbird ..... at least, at some point. We'll wait for you. It's nothing without you"

Vinny just stared at me before pulling his hand away from my mine.

"Y/n."

"It doesn't matter if it's not tomorrow, or the next day, or weeks from now! J-just come back. Please." I could feel a increase in my heart rate and the pressure behind my eyes building up again.

Vinny sighed and turned away from me.

"There's no reason for me to come back." He said sternly. "There's nothing you or the others can offer me." He continued has he started walking away.

Something warm slid down the right side of me cheek. I blinked and more came out. I was crying.

I just stood there as I continued to watch him walk away. My crying only worsened and I could feel a lump form in my throat.

I can't give up on you Vinny I thought as I recollected the memories of us together and how much our relationship progressed.

I just can't Vinny. I won't. I love you.

After he was well out of my sight, I finally left for the bus station. I cried the entire way.

For once, I wished it wasn't so quiet out.

[amandacanwrite]

The Violet Thread of Fate Part One:

The Reclusive Wizard and the Cheeky Upstart

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || Third Person, dual POV Gale Dekarios and Elinna Inklynn (Tav)

Pairing || Elinna Inklynn (Half-drow tav) and Gale Dekarios

Length || 5,500 Words

Scenario || In an alternative timeline for the events of BG3 Elinna Inklynn, an orphan from the Moonshae Islands seeks out the tutelage of accomplished wizard Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. She has a knack with the Weave, but no money or connections to actually learn how to harness it. She has heard the wizard is a gentleman and a schollar, and hopes she can appeal to him to take her on as his apprentice in exchange for her help around his tower, with his research, and in running errands in Waterdeep. Unfortunately for her, Gale Dekarios does not take on apprentices.

Warnings || Age gap (Perhaps about 10ish years), depiction of depression and heart ache, description of very, very mild body horror.

A/n || I hope you all enjoy this very indulgent little fic I'm starting. I am already having entirely too much fun with it. Please keep in mind that while this fic will have a good amount of characters and scenarios from the canon events of BG3 I am planning on taking a lot of creative liberties and may leave out certain situations/characters for the sake of flow!

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Tag list || @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear @mymybirdie @tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24 @laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide

A Reclusive Wizard

“Mr. Dekarios, if you would just consider it–” Tara suggested as she fluttered alongside her charge. 

“Tara, no,” Gale said. “We are not dropping the wards and we’re not taking visitors. The orb is too volatile.”

“But, Mr. Dekarios–I’ve told you this isolation of yours–” 

“Tara–enough,” Gale shouted, exasperated. “You are my friend. You’re not my mother. I’m a grown man, who has done quite well for himself, might I add, and I don’t need your–your incessant fussing.”

“Mr. Dekarios!” Tara tutted, her whiskers perking forward with her disapproval. “My incessant fussing is what helped you figure out how to stabilize the orb in the first place, may I remind you. And if you so tire of my incessant fussing, allow me to divest of its burden! I may not be your mother, but your mother is a friend to me and will happily put me up.”

“Tara,” Gale said. “Wait–I didn’t mean you should leave–”

“I know that. But I am also quite aware that my willingness to fetch magical items and act as your little familiar has proven to only enable your reclusive habits,” she retorted. “Perhaps you will not listen to me, but when you run out of biscuits for your tea, perhaps you’ll see the reason in getting a little bit of fresh air…and perhaps a bath…and for the sake of the gods a shave.”

Tara flitted her way up to one of the high windows in the tower, pausing on the sill before leaving.

“Tara, don’t go,” Gale said, his eyes taking on a sort of sorry, piteous quality. “Please, just stay here.”

“Mr. Dekarios, those big glittering eyes won’t work on me any longer,” Tara said. “I’ve known you too long to be bewitched by your pouting. If you so wish me to return, you can come fetch me at your childhood home. The walk will do you well.”

And with that, she soared right out of the window, leaving Gale of Waterdeep entirely and utterly alone. 

Gale scowled up at the window she’d escaped from before sighing and smearing a hand down his face. He cupped his hand over his mouth and heaved out a low grumble, lost in thought as he often was these days. 

Perhaps Tara was right…maybe it was time to leave the tower. To engage in the ease of camaraderie at The Yawning Portal, reach out to the colleagues that had tried to pay him a visit in the year since his relationship with Mystra had come to an end–since this tangle of Netherese magic made a home of his chest cavity. 

But it wasn’t just the volatile nature of the orb that worried him. It wasn’t as if he thought a raucous night with his friends would trigger an explosion to level the city he called home. Even with the constant peril of the orb in his chest being destabilized by a too-strong emotion, there was a deeper fear inspiring the reluctance.

Gale Dekarios was used to being an outlier. Unfortunately, it was the otherside of the coin of being a particularly gifted wizard. As a child, it had been a source of ostracization. As an adolescent it made him the subject of many an ill-begotten rivalry. As a young man he had begun to learn how to minimize the isolation by compensating for the inevitable inferiority complex he inspired in others by learning to be charming and funny–to couch his corrections in complimentary language so that he could have some measure of friendship.

It wasn’t often that he could find people that could keep up with him or converse with him on his level–at least, not where the subject of magic came into play. But he’d learned to accept that and enjoy the company of other wizards–even non-wizards–in different ways. 

A game of lanceboard, the critical analysis of a book, a spirited debate on the merits of the shadow arts when applied to the correct endeavors. Now, as a man in his late 30’s with questionable knees, he felt nicely secure in his ability to play nice with others. 

But this new sense of separation–this insurmountable mountain between himself and the other–had been so very devastating to the life he had carefully cultivated. 

How could he listen to other people lament about their sordid love affairs, the politics at the academy–anything– with any measure of understanding or empathy? How could he confide in the people who he used to call his friends? 

He was alone in the tower, but he wasn’t certain he could face the profound isolation of trying to connect with someone about his condition, only to find them staring back at him in utter befuddlement. Or worse, with soulless platitudes and what he could only describe as foolish optimism.

Who could possibly make him feel better when there was no way he could ever feel better? How could he listen to the woes of friends and earnestly care about them when he had been forsaken by the goddess of the only thing he held sacred in his life?

He couldn’t. That was a the truth of it. And that was why he didn’t want visitors. He didn’t want to subject his friends to the poor quality of his care; didn’t want to expose them to this unique brand of selfishness and bitterness. 

He’d had enough of destroying things. 

But he also knew he needed Tara–not just because of the artifacts, but because she was his oldest and longest standing friendship. And because the tower, in her absence, had already become unbearably quiet.

And he supposed it had been a while since he last saw his mother…

He sighed and turned away from his mess of a study, climbing up the two flights of stairs to his bedchambers. Once there, he conjured himself a bath as he undressed, leaving his house robes in a pile on the floor before stepping into the steaming water. 

It smelled of bay laurel and lavender–an old combination that Mystra loved to use when they’d shared baths together. His mind drifted to the thought of his goddess cradled against his body, how small she felt even with her considerable power, the feeling of her silky hair catching on his skin as he kissed the hollow of her neck and…

“Don’t take that path in your mind, Gale. She’s the last person you should be thinking about right now,” he told himself as he gave his cheek a couple firm, bracing pats with his hand. He let his head drop back in the water and sighed. 

The water filled his ears, quieting the ambient sounds in the room around him and creating an echochamber of his head. He heard the airy sound of his breaths coming and going in and out of his lungs; heard the gentle trickling sounds of his fingers creating tiny currents under the water; heard the sound of his heart still beating in his over-crowded chest. 

He was still alive. 

There could be hope for him yet. 

Unlikely, sure, but there could be. 

After washing up with some simple soap, he got out of the bath and toweled off. 

He walked over to the small wardrobe where he kept his things and slapped a couple lazy splashes of a fragranced suspension he’d made onto his neck, favoring his pulse points as he used to when he’d go out for a night at The Yawning Portal. He trimmed his beard as a small concession to Tara (he would not be shaving it completely, thank you very much,) and got dressed. 

He decided he would wear one of his nicer sets of robes. It’d been a while since he’d properly dressed himself in something other than simple tunics and roughspun practice robes. He started with some leather trousers and his under shirt, layering the criss-crossed front with car and fastening it with the ties at his waist to create a slender, tapered silhouette. Then he slipped the robe on, and paused as he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. 

He’d not really been thinking when he selected the robe, but this was one of Mystra’s favorites on him. Various shades of violet with a wine-colored sash. 

Violet, of course, was the color of the weave. Mystra’s color. 

Would she want him to eliminate the color from his wardrobe altogether? Now that she’d left him to his devices? Surely a goddess couldn’t bar him from wearing a color. Hopefully not, considering more than half of his wardrobe was some shade of lilac, lavender or morning glory.

Whatever the case, he fastened the buckles and straightened the sash the wine colored sash, trying once again to put Mystra out of his mind. He did a flick of his hands to lace up the sleeves and then slid on some leather bracers for good measure. 

It wasn’t as if he had any intention of doing any fighting or shooting any arrows, but he liked how they looked. And it had been so long since he’d looked in the mirror and thought to himself my, look at that handsome devil.

Finally he looked at the mop of his hair. It’d also been too long since he’d gotten a cut…now his messy curls fell past his shoulders when he usually preferred to keep it short enough to comb back with a bit of emollient or pomade. He was certain his mother would gripe about it and then he would have to deal with incessant fussing two fold between his mother and Tara. Still, it was dark outside–long past the time any salons would be open, so he gathered half of it up, bundling it as neatly as he could manage around his two forefingers and secured it with a two-pronged hairpin. 

He looked at the earring on his wardrobe and hedged for a moment. 

He’d been given the earring as a gift from Mystra when he’d first encountered her as a boy. He’d only stopped wearing it in the last year. Something had felt off about keeping it on–like a widower still wearing his wedding band. But it also felt wrong to leave his tower without it. It felt like a part of his identity. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he said to himself in the mirror before turning from it and striding out of his bedroom. 

…He returned not two seconds later and slipped the earring into his left ear. Damn it all. He couldn’t help what he was. A sentimental, heartbroken fool.

On his way out the door, he grabbed a hooded cloak and draped it over his shoulders. He lifted the hood, obscuring his face in shadow, hoping it would be enough to keep him from having to interact with anyone who wasn’t Tara of his mother. He considered, for a moment, casting an invisibility charm on himself…alas the concentration such a thing would require left him feeling exhausted at the thought of it. The cloak had worked for rogues and criminals for centuries. Suely it could work for him as well. 

Finally, he left the safety and control his tower afforded him and walked out into the cold, Waterdhavian night. 

A Cheeky Upstart

“Okay Elinna. Just…ring the doorbell. You’ve traveled all the way here. So just ring it,” a young woman told herself as she stood outside the wrought iron gates. “You sailed all the way from the Moonshae Islands, left every book behind, dealt with some of the worst sea sickness in all of the realms just to be here.”

Despite telling herself this, she had to shake out some of the numbness in her fingers from clenching her fists too tight. Or maybe it was just the nip in the air from the coastal evening. She couldn’t truly be sure. 

As she stood there, her green eyes caught a streak of movement in the sky–some winged creature departing from a high window of the tower. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. Maybe a gargoyle? Or a mephit? An imp?

Something churned in her gut at the thought of Gale of Waterdeep cavorting with the infernal. Perhaps that was why no one had seen him in such a long time–maybe he’d made a pact with a devil and lost some of his humanity in the exchange. Maybe she ought to just turn on her shabby heels and book passage back home. 

“You can’t do that, Elinna,” she told herself. “You already spent everything you have just to get here. You’re all in, now.”

But that was precisely why she couldn’t bring herself to tug on the chain to ring the doorbell. Who was she to show up at the door of one of the best wizards–a proper prodigy of composing strings of the weave; the apprentice of the famous Elminster, no less?

Well she knew the answer to that. 

She was desperate. That’s what she was. 

She’d been left at the Scribe’s Nest by her mother with nothing but a note and an old locket she couldn’t get open; drow craftsmanship. The note detailed her lineage as a half-drow, but begged the clerics of the temple to take her in and raise her. According to the note left in her swaddle, Elinna would be shunned and excluded by because of her impure blood. 

A shame for both her mother and Elinna herself that the Scribe’s Nest had simply moved into an old Temple of Ilmater. The inhabitants inside were nothing but glorified librarians. They may have had access to all of the books in the world, but not a single one of her guardians actually knew how to use the information inside. 

No. Instead, they tried to raise her to love cataloging the written word, but deny herself the joy of actually using anything she learned from the old dusty tomes in the temple. Even when she’d shown a natural knack for small magics, she had been discouraged from using them, leaving her with no choice but to practice in the wee hours of the night. 

She knew she hadn’t much to use as a benchmark for her growth as a burgeoning young wizard, but she thought for all of the effort she’d put in she made a half-decent self-taught magician. All she needed was some proper tutelage to become something truly magnificent. Something worthy of the tales of great wizards that she’d read. 

Which brought her here–to the first and only plan she had to seek out that higher learning. And now her future hung in the balance of whether or not her knock at the door–or rather the ring of the doorbell–would be answered. 

Her heart pounded in her chest, at her temples. He leather fingerless gloves squeaked as she flexed and clenched her fists. 

“Gah!” she cried, turning away from the gate, pacing across the narrow cobbled street, then pacing right back. She gasped in a few preparatory breaths and hopped from one soft-soled foot to the other. “Just do it, just DO it, Elinna. Just–”

The door of the tower opened, it’s underutilized hinges creaking as the man opening the door grunted. 

“Damnable–old door–why did I make you out of iron,” grumbled the voice. 

Elinna went entirely still, eyes going wide. 

Perhaps it was habit from how many times she’d had to sneak tomes away from the restricted areas of the Scribe’s Nest, but she ducked behind the stone columns holding up the wrought iron gate and watched as the cloaked figure made his way to the gate and slipped outside of it with a wave of his hand. 

She remained hidden as he looked down the road in her direction, his eyes looking too distantly to catch her small frame tucked away in the dark. 

She’d seen sketches of the Gale Dekarios before, but she couldn’t help but feel they did him no justice. The etchings seemed to have emphasized the wizened qualities of his features; the lines around his eyes, the creases around his lips. They made him look sagely and–well–old. 

But the real man, the one now standing in the flesh just a few feet from her was something different entirely. 

He showed signs of age, of course. He was a middle-aged man, after all. But his lips were fuller, his beard a little more tidy, and his eyes…

His eyes were what made him look the most youthful. There was a sort of shimmer to them that she couldn’t quite describe, a sort of weight to his brow that made him look as if he was always curious, always observing.

She watched as he pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and turned the opposite direction, walking down the narrow street. 

Wait, she thought. What am I doing?!

She hesitated for only one more moment before quickly hurrying after him. She searched her mind for all of the speeches she’d practiced for this introduction, but she was left wanting. She should have written it down so that she wouldn’t forget–or would it have been even more strange for read her introduction off the pages of a notebook? 

It was all strange, of course; a girl crossing the ocean to show up on the doorstep of a stranger several years her senior. Asking for an apprenticeship when she hadn’t so much as sent him a letter of introduction or even had anything to offer in exchange except for chores, errands and meal preparations. Seeking tutelage from one of the most accomplished young wizards when she was still struggling with even the most basic of incantations…

But what else could she do? 

The life of a Scribe Nest Archiver was not a luxurious one. She’d had to sneak out of the old Nest to sing songs at the local tavern to scrape what little money she could together to book passage to even get here. 

Blackstaff wasn’t exactly inexpensive–and even if it was, she couldn’t hope to get in. Not with how poorly she handled the weave. 

But Gale–she had read transcripts of his lectures, heard tales of how magnanimous and warm he could be. She even once met one of his friends at the tavern who was visiting the islands for this or that purpose–she couldn’t remember. She only remembered the tales of his kindness and generosity. Of his gentleman’s nature. 

He seemed like her only real chance at ever mastering this art that sang to her like a harpy at roost in the bay.

God’s he was walking fast though. Perhaps it was just because she was so short in comparison to him, but she was almost having to run to catch up to him. 

“E-excuse me,” she finally said when she was within earshot.

She saw the briefest glance back at her, the quickest flash of a startled expression, before he focused forward and quickened his pace.  

“No, thank you,” Dekarios replied. “I’ve already a subscription to the Waterdhavian times.”

“Uhm, no–that’s not–” she stammered. “Wait, could you please stop walking so fast!”

“I’m in a dreadful hurry, good night to you,” he said dismissively, walking even faster as he pulled his cloak further to guard his face. 

“Mr. Dekarios! I’ve come here to talk to you!” She shouted, a little crack of desperation coming out with it. “Mr. Dekarios I–”

He whirled on her, suddenly encroaching into her space. He was so quick that she almost stumbled backward and fell. Before she could, though, he seized her arm with one strong hand, stablizing her quickly before clasping his other hand over her mouth.

She stared up at him with wide eyes, bright irises flicking around his face as if she were prey caught in his snare.

“Shhhh,” he hissed before looking around, as if to see if anyone heard her. “Mystra’s Elbow, you’d think my reputation as a newly initiated recluse would have gotten around by now.”

Elinna swallowed dryly, critically aware of the feeling of his calloused fingertips on the soft swells of her freckled cheeks. She blinked up at him, unsure what to do. His hand felt warm through the roughspun, puffed sleeves of her Scribe’s Nest garments.  Her feet were sort of turned in awkwardly after he’s caught her mid fall. 

She wondered if it would have looked like she was being accosted by a thief to a wandering bystander. She supposed it didn’t matter because no one else was here. She knew she should have been afraid. That she was a young woman alone with an older man; that he’d rendered her silent and could easily do much worse. But she also knew that was likely the experiences at the tavern thinking for her. 

Gale was supposed to be a gentleman. That’s what she’d always heard. And…

And his hands smelled like…like tea and old parchment and sage. There was a somewhat sharp quality to the fragrance–perhaps a suspension alchemized in alcohol of some sort. He must have made it himself. 

“Now. This behavior of mine, admittedly, is abhorrent for a gentleman with a young lady. I will have to ask you to forgive my bad manners and to give me the grace of your understanding because I simply did not want to be greeted by anyone aside from my mother and my cat. Now. I am going to take my hand away from your mouth; apologies again for the rough handling. But I’m going to then need you to let me walk away. And perhaps most importantly, I need you to leave me alone,” Gale said quietly. “Do we have an accord?”

Elinna’s pale ginger brow furrowed and he tutted quietly. 

“No, no. No crinkles of the brow, no narrowing of the eyes, miss,” he scolded. “It is by mere coincidence you’ve even caught me out of my tower. By all accounts this is an anomaly of the highest order and therefore…uhm…does not count. You should just forget this ever happened. In fact, I could help you do so if you like!”

Doesn’t count? What kind of logic–that was school-boy logic! And what did he mean help her forget?! She jerked her arm away from him and, perhaps in a moment of panic he tightened his grip.

“Alright, alright! I’m going to let you go–just– remember our deal, please,” he said, releasing her arm.

He winced slightly as he hesitated to remove his other hand from her mouth. She thought he had the same expression one might have if they were about to remove a cork from a vial of smelling salts.

He released his other hand, drawing it away from her mouth. 

“Mr. Dekarios, I’ve come to ask you to take me on as an apprentice,” Elinna blurted out. “I know you have never met me, and that you have no notion of my ability or skill. And that showing up outside of a strangers house and asking them for a place to live–”

“I’m sorry, a place to live?” He interjected with an incredulous tone

“--and a comprehensive education in the arcane arts–” she continued.

“I assure you I do not have the time, and it certainly wouldn’t be proper for an older man to bring a young woman into his home to–” he interjected again. 

“ But I have nowhere else to turn and…And I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

His brows shot up as she finally stopped speaking. She didn’t know what to make of that expression, nor the silence that followed. Elinna could feel her face beginning to warm and she knew from  that her face was already starting to color with her own nerves. It felt the same way it did when a tavern patron made a bawdy joke at her expense–or about her body. 

The silence was the most unbearable part, though. So she started to fill it, her face getting warmer by the moment.

“You’re silent,” she said. “Uh–right. Names. I’m Elinna Inklyn. I hail from the Moonshae Islands. I grew up under the care of the Scribe’s Nest Archivists and–”

“Elinna. Elinna,” he said, his tone almost pitying. “I’m going to stop you right there.”

She felt her heart sink as he pinched the bridge of his nose and tilted his head back, looking toward the sky. “Look, Miss Inklyn. I’m sorry that you came all this way, but. I am afraid you must take no as an answer. I cannot take on an apprentice, even if I wanted to.” He winced and almost half shrugged. “And frankly, I really do not want to. Even if I could do it, I wouldn’t want to do it.”

“But–if you’d let me explain–” she protested. 

“No–no buts. Again, I am dreadfully sorry for the trouble you went through to get here. But…considering that you sought me out and addressed me by name, you must know who I am.” he said. 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“So, then you know that I am particularly gifted with manipulating the weave,” he said. “That’s why you’ve sought me out.”

“Yes,” she said yet again. “Well part of the reason but also because–”

“So, then I’m sure you could understand why I find the inadequacies of unskilled wizards irksome, correct? That if I were to take on an apprentice, it would be someone with a certain level of innate talent?”

Her brow furrowed again and she inhaled to speak, but before another word could fall out of her mouth a huge boom of sound tore out from the sky above them. She clapped her gloved hands over her ears and yelped.

“What was that?” she shouted. 

The two looked up at the source of the sound only to see the sky split open like it’d been torn by a dull blade. Out of the opening flew a giant aircraft with writhing tentacles slicing through the air as if it were a squid traversing deep sea waters. The two wizards–one novice and one adept–balked at the appearance of the spelljammer, the size of it practically the size of Gale’s tower if you laid it on its side.

“A nautiloid?” They both said at the same time. 

They met eyes briefly before Gale gritted his teeth and grasped onto her arm, almost flinging her away from him

“Get out of here, Elinna. And whatever you do don’t let the tentacles touch you,” he shouted. 

She stumbled, almost falling on her face, looking back at him. 

“What about you?!” she cried. 

“I’m a wizard,” he said before turning and casting a bolts of ice at two of the tentacles that swatted out toward them. 

“It’s a spelljammer!”

“I’m a very, very good wizard!” he said. 

Elinna’s sense of self preservation won out over her worry for the man she’d come here to meet. If he thought he could take on a nautiloid, who was she to deny that? She turned and sprinted down the narrow street before dodging down an alleyway in hopes of getting cover from the massive tentacles that now swept down toward the ground like great, giant whips. 

She chanced a single look back to see Gale running just behind her, and the spelljammer that was traveling far too quickly and far too low to the ground for comfort. He followed her down the alleyway, calling ahead. “Not that way! To the east–”

“I don’t know which way east is!” she shouted back. 

“Are you kiddi–Eugh–LEFT,” he said. “LEFT, LEFT! Go LEFT!”

“Alright, I heard you!” she said. “No need to shout!”

“I will shout if I want to, now–Elinna, look out!”

She looked ahead just in time to see a brick wall and slipped on her worn soles as she tried to come to a screeching halt. 

She slammed into the wall, but thankfully not with enough force to knock her out.  She managed to clumsily tumble toward the left, dropping onto her fingertips just a moment before lurching back upright. Gale caught up to her and cast some spell–gust, she assumed– because a strong wind caught in the fabric of her clothes like a breeze in the sails of a galeon and made her feel like she was running on air. 

He fought off another tentacle and she screamed as one almost tagged her, but smashed an old fish barrel to bits instead.

“Keep going. We’ll lose it on the main road,” Gale yelled.  

They spilled out onto a wider street and she immediately regretted listening to the Waterdhavian native. It’d seemed a sound plan at first. But only if the goal of the ship was to find them specifically. When they made it to the street, Elinna realized that was not the drive of the nautiloid at all. 

The main road was chaos. There were carts toppled over and people lying trampled on the ground. People ran and screamed, some of them were swatted by the terrifying power of the tentacles only to vanish into dust before they could make impact with the wall of a building or the floor below them.

Elinna froze in terror, realizing finally that her plight had gone from one of trying to secure a teacher of her own to one of simply trying to survive her first night on the mainland. It suddenly dawned on her that she might actually die here. She might die within moments. 

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

It was a mistake to stop, but she realized it too late. A horse cried out desperately and tore away from the frightening vessel. It tore straight toward her, its eyes wild, his nose gusting tufts of steam into the air like a machine. It pulled a market cart along with it, full of heavy barrels of meat and wine. She braced herself, squeezing her eyes shut and thinking about the magic she’d read about. Misty step–misty step, what was the incantation for misty step?

“I-Inveniam Viam!!” she shouted, the words sailing on waves of the weave and almost…echoing. There was the sweet taste of something on her tongue–the after effect of using the weave if her reading was any indication. She’d only tasted that once or twice before, but chasing that sweet, comforting experience was what brought her here. It’s what made her so desperately want to learn how to wield this magic.

When she opened her eyes, the horse was gone.

Unfortunately for her, so was the ground beneath her feet. 

She’d somehow teleported into midair and, as if the weave was just as shocked as she was, she’d wound up suspended there for just the briefest moment, cradled by the strands of the weave she’d managed to manipulate. Seconds felt like minutes as he copper hair floate away from her face as she experienced true weightlessness for just moments. Then she felt the sickening churn in her stomach as she started to fall. 

The floor just far enough to be lethal but not far enough to give her adequate time to figure out another spell. Her mind went blank with terror. In a moment of desperation, she found Gale in the crowd, a stationary man in a sea of fleeing people. 

He looked at her in abject horror as she dropped like a dagger out of the sky. He looked utterly, woefully helpless.

She screamed, wrapping her arms around her as if she could brace her own fall, as if holding herself would hold her together.

Then, just as she was about to splat on the cobblestones into a puddle of bone and blood, a searing heat bloomed from the center of her back. She screamed again as she felt herself dissolve from the inside out, her innards liquifying into a primordial soup. 

Her body went miserably hot, and then impossibly cold. No. Not cold–she realized–absent. She was vanishing from the center of her body. She watched in uncomprehending horror as her middle vanished, watched as her body evaporated like steam off a teacup. 

Her guttural scream sounded from her and died in the air. 

The last thing she saw before her vision went black was Gale still staring at her as he too succumbed to the nautiloid’s attack.

[iridescent-solstice]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲! 𝐀 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 🌸 | ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ɴᴀᴅɪᴀ | ⤷ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴏ ʜᴇᴄᴛɪᴄ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ. ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʜᴇʀɪꜱʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ . . .

"Sometimes I wonder whether I can truly change this city . . . But then when I think of you . . . it's as if all my doubts have faded away."

This quiet murmur that falls from Nadia's lips is the first thing you hear once you wake up. Still bleary eyed and tired yet you welcome the sight of her vermilion eyes shining down with adoration. Affection gnawing at your heart, urging you to greet her. A smile ghosts your lips as you push yourself up on your elbows to place a gentle kiss on her lips. Nose brushing against one another as your low lidded eyes drinks in her beauty. She seems to be doing the same. "Hmm am I truly that breathtaking?" You joke while brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Not letting anything hide her beauty.

"Enough to distract you from all your fears and doubts?" You muse with a grin and she chuckles. Bumping her forehead against yours, hands slowly pushing you back down, and quiet as a mouse you let her do so. "Of course, my love, do you doubt it?" She chuckles at your silly questions. "You're more important than any of my fears or doubts. When I think of you . . ." A blush begins to dust her cheeks, eyes darting away. "I can't help but feel this deep-rooted sense of peace washing over me. As if everything will be okay once I find you again." A sigh of contentment falling from her lips when you pull her closer. With the date of the masquerade ball drawing closer and closer, you had witnessed firsthand just how stressful planning a big event really is . . . Of course, it's not like you were completely clueless about it before, it's just a different story when all of Versuvia must enjoy it. That's alot of people. So many demands and wishes. So many traditions to uphold, but many that serve as a warning. Overindulgence. Greed. Apathy . . .

Yet admist all of this, you find yourself admiring Nadia even more now. The hussle and bussle of the castle never taking your eyes away from her. Her attention to detail, her dedication to her job as countess and her quick decision making is inspiring to say the least. Isn't she amazing? Her ability to keep a cool and level-headed approach no matter the mess up only grew the admiration you had of her. "You really are magnificent . . ." Is what you'd often say to her. But she'd always wave the compliment off. "Not as radiant as you my dear." You can't say you agree with her, but her gaze leaves little to dispute. However, if there is something everyone can agree on . . . Is just how tenacious she actually is.

You just wish she didn't work herself to the bone. That she'd accept the help offered to her . . . Your help at the very least. But she doesn't, she never does. But what she can never quite fully resist, is a warm cup of tea and some alone time with you. She loves you even more for combining the two for your morning ritual.

And so that is usually how you'd coax her to stay in bed just a little longer. Cuddled in her arms or her snuggling into you is how most mornings are spent together. "Just stay five more minutes until the tea arrives pleaseeee Noddy!" . . . She knows your games but entertains them, nonetheless. Mostly because she can't help it. She can't help adoring you and all your silly little antics. Especially not when you insist of asking for biscuits as well so you can feed them to her and spoil her appetite for breakfast in the process. But she's not complaining. Why would she when your soft warm hands are holding her so close? Why would she when for once there is someone taking care for her? Just her and her alone~

[ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @magicalboything] ⤷ Recoloured so it stands out on the blog and fits the character. If you're not comfy with that PLS do let me know and I'll change it!

{ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ: ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ. ᴀɢᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ 16 ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴏʀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍʏ ᴍᴅɴɪ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ}

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

02/01/2024 Daily Recap

TLDR; Thank you for the help!; HoistTheAdsReceipts; HoistThePetitionCampaign; UK News; Basingstroke Comic Con; Cast & Crew Sightings; Samba's birthday; Watch Partys; In Person Meetups; Articles; #OhBloysHeMad; Videos; Misc; Love Notes; DailyDarby/Tonight's Taika

Hey everyone! Thank you for all the kind folks that gave me feedback on the Renewal Repo! I'm still getting stuff back filled but please feel free to check it out now, it's got the current events I'm aware of and I'm keeping it up to date with everything daily that comes across my feeds. There's also a contact form for anything I'm missing or you'd like to add!

OFMD Renewal Repository

== Hoist The Ads Receipts ==

So technically this was yesterday, sorry I put it in my todo folder and then completely forgot to add it! So for those of you asking about receipts for the Hoist the Ads Charity donations. There are more images on those links but I'm running out of image allotment for this post so please visit the tumblr or other socials to read the rest. Instagram Link / Tumblr / Twitter

==Hoist The Petition Campaign!==

The @SaveOFMDCrew is hosting a #HoistThePetition campaign to try and boost Signatures on the Petition. You have a chance to win some OFMD stickers. If you don't have twitter you are welcome to message me and I'll message LC on your behalf or find alternative contacts for you! For those with twitter: LCWebsXOXO

== UK News ==

As always, thanks @lamentus1 for all the information on the UK front! Basingstroke Comic Con is happening on May 10-12 2024 at the Hampshire Court Hotel in Basingstoke, UK

BasingStrokeComic Con Facebook Ticket Links Some cool news on the twitter front, @lamentus1 tweeted the SunTV Magazine editor Steven Corbett and he responded!

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

It's Samba's birthday!!!! He sent us a lovely photo on IG

Looks like he's feeling the love! He's trending! (and so are oranges haha- thank you @lucyrosebutler for catching the trends!) He's been out here liking everyone's comments so he's definitely seeing everyone's well wishes! Thanks for making him feel loved everyone!

Kristian Nairn gave some more updates! Looks like they're sorted for Wee John Monday! More info tomorrow!

==Reminders for Upcoming Events==

=#OurFlagMeansDeadloch=

Last day of #OurFlagMeansDeadloch tomorrow!

Watch Party Hashtags:

#OurFlagMeansDeadloch

#SaveOFMD

#AdoptOurCrew

=#StewAsACrew=

February 4th is National Soup Day! Share soup pics, jokes, recipes, etc while rewatching Season 1 of OFMD! 

Watch Party Hashtags:

#StewAsACrew

#AdoptOurCrew

#SaveOFMD

== In Person Meet-Ups!==

Are you near Burbank, CA? Tues, Feb 13 there will be a walking processional to celebrate #OFMD! Thank you @aimeekitty for sharing this!

== Articles ==

The big article that's got everyone's attention today was this pile of nonsense from the Vulture about "The Truth Behind Max's Cancellation Spree". If you don't want to give them the satisfaction of having clicks, you can go under the cut on this post to see screenshots of the article.

The Truth Behind Max's Cancellation Spree

This has once again triggered our fun and exciting hashtag: #OhBloysHeMad and a new one #Don'tStreamOnMax.

There are some tips from the #SaveOFMD Crew though about Hashtags and cross-posting

Also something to note....

==Videos==

New episode of Movies with Marty! Our Flag Means Death (2023) S2 Eps 3 & 4 Reaction | FIRST TIME WATCHING

==Ad Campaigns Up and Running!==

Our Street Level Ads are live in New York!

== Love Notes ==

I am very tired tonight lovelies. I had a lot to say but it's been a very long day, so I'm going to call it quits a bit earlier tonight. I think this picture sums up my feelings pretty well. <3 you all, see you tomorrow.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's Darby picture is courtesy of @jacemerlyn on twitter. Thank you for this gem! Taika's picture courtesy of his instagram.

[narwhalandchill]

how are we feeling about this project amber update

assuming this is in relation to childe bc who the fuck else JWDJWJKDJKW anon im so sorry if not. also so so sorry for how out of hand this got. i am simply unwell about him.

But! Well. there certainly are thoughts

(obviously 4.6 datamine of arle SQ and her voicelines; This Will Not Spoil Anything Abt The Main SQ Plot, i only discuss the relevant parts. also some p Heavy negativity towards fanon ooc at the start youve been warned dont @ me)

(i mean i didnt even read anything of the SQ but The scene w childe so idek the main plot of the quest rly either lmao. tho go at ur own risk if u wanna check the dialogue out; its the 2nd quest log but it does hint at the greater story)

TLDR: how i feel abt his appearance in a vaccuum? quite solid despite the briefness, actually. accounting for the way fanon is 100% likely going to be reading into this and turning it into the Lets Infantilize Ajax Even More 2024 championship? conflicted.

in other words; a certified labyrinth warriors moment - theyve expanded on childes character in a very interesting and quite a compelling way and while i Do like the potential in what im seeing from hoyos end theyve also done it so that its going to be misinterpreted to hell and back by fanon so i kinda have an immediate jaded love-hate moment going on JJWJDKJDKJWJDWKJ

its literally just labyrinth warriors flashbacks - that event has some of my ALL TIME favorite insights into who ajax is and how he views the world and himself but when the event came out all everyone cared abt was to warp it into baby boy stuck in scawwy paper boy dungeon dehumanizes himself by calling himself a weapon and doesnt love himself he is such a sad trauma meowkitten 🥺🥺so yeah

bc like lets look at this properly for a bit; okay he went back to fontaine to look for skirk still somewhat injured and waa waa my 286 month infant baby cannot Make decisions like that!!!!!11! which is to say. i am tired of him getting this shit every time.

is it smart of him to get on the move immediately with just the bare minimum of rest? no. do i like that hes straining himself before proper recovery? not particularly no. do i feel the particular need to psychoanalyze this grown man and feared warrior whos 100% survived Way Worse in Way More Extreme Situations for it? hell fucking no.

while not at all the course of action a medical professional would approve of. from childes POV its perfectly logical hes priorizing going back for skirk when its literally the FIRST TIME shes showed up in like. a Decade. when hes been looking for her all this time are you kidding me 😭😭😭 but fanon must keep fanoning for their widdle baby girl so what does a hater like me know

anyway. seething and venting over im gonna try to avoid bringing up how much i hate this kinda infantilization of ajax now im sorry for bringing it up so much on ur innocent ask anon KJWDJKWKJDJDKWJKD. neutral discussion moment. i Promise

so it seems that theyre going for the pulcinella-is-shady-about-ajax (and prolly his family) angle for good and like. personally for me as long as the only real source of that claim was scara (a cynical edgelord who doesnt believe in non-exploitative human relationships, mind you) i was rather skeptical towards just instantly drawing that conclusion, but well. with the scene in arles AQ it appears to be sth theyre building towards

i actually really fucking loved that scene bc while theres outsider perspectives (scara obvi; and even arles line for him has that vibe. and ppl still take that shit face value 💀💀) and a lot of fandom assuming childes like. completely clueless and naive and ignorant towards the potential risks involved with trusting pulcinella. this is actually a very clever demonstration of quite the opposite? and showcasing how despite his aversion towards schemes and lies hes still intelligent and knows the kind of people hes dealing with when it comes to his fellow harbingers

like. childe has a negative opinion of arle based on what pulcinella has told him about her because at face value many of her deeds are in heavy conflict with his values of loyalty and family. and because he does not have the further context behind her actions and what the HotH under her is really like. Obviously hed hold a very hostile and wary view towards arlecchino

(ESPECIALLY when with all this biased intel hes still going to run into kids from the house!!! and then hes going wtf? these are good kids. what the hell is that knave doing with them??? blink twice if you need help i will start a civil war for yall like thats how he is with kids!!!!)

so YES. pulcinella has given him if not false then at least misleading intel based on the political tension between himself and arlecchino and the wider HotH. and childes taken that at face value! sure! he is close with pulcinella of course he would!

BUT. THEN. he returns to fontaine and seeks arlecchinos help looking for skirk. and observes her behavior and modus operandi for himself as well as the kids. does he go "nah she must be just hiding the crazy evil shit i would never distrust pulcinella" and leave it at that when reality doesnt completely match his expectations?

NO. because when offered the opportunity through the traveler asking about the HotH childe immediately capitalizes on the opportunity to prod for answers and see if pulcinella is lying to him!!!!

and hes so fucking smart with the way he does it too???? i LOVE his intelligence. the entire thing is so simple yet elegant; it Completely relies on his reputation as the kinda gullible harbinger whod Never scheme or hide Anything to indirectly affirm or deny his suspicions. he doesnt Need to Pretend to care about the possibility of arle betraying the kids bc he genuinely does!! and when she pushes back against the accusation he doesnt Need to fake admitting to her that well, actually, its all just rumors so he could be completely wrong. and so on. like he navigates the entire thing so effortlessly. and whats the end result?

childe has Confirmation of pulcinellas possible ulterior motives in action AND that arlecchino is a much more reliable ally than he initially assumed. all the while appearing as just The Straightforward 11th. like obviously id need to hear it voiced first to be sure but in text it v much gives the impression hes almost kinda just. playing up the threats towards arle and being "dumb" on Purpose?? to get the answers he wanted out of arle without appearing like hes fishing for anything particular. and i just hhhhhhhhhhh

i love when he does this so muchhhh!!!!!! 😭😭 he doesnt need to become some machiavellian schemer to be able to strategize !!!!!! he avoids scheming bc he Dislikes it not bc hes incapable of it like this has Always been the case Since Liyue AQ and i love whenever they show that side of himm . my Beloved

so anyway. while i do still think the like "pulcinella is bad and has his family hostage" is still kind of a generic plotline and i hope the writing regarding the whole thing wont ultimately turn out to be sth That simplified and black and white. its p clear theyre doing Something with pulcinellas motivations and as they are. im Really glad theyre letting it show that childes not just some completely passive party being manipulated in this all. he Is thinking abt this stuff and his position among the harbingers. ig we shall see where it goes - not the greatest fan of the concept still, but canon text supports it becoming a thing way more than when it was just scaras word we had for it. hope theyll surprise me positively w how they go about it!

then briefly for the rest uhh

also loved arle and childe just shittalking the rest of the harbingers it was amazing. i wasnt expecting this kinda dynamic between them at all but its great lmao. also i wanna see childe hang out w the HotH kids

as for project stuzha; so we dont really get anything solid on it other than being summoned back to snezhnaya for it is apparently a Big Deal. but still very interested. let my man have his endgame significance Trust

childes appearance was obviously v brief ultimately but that was clear from his leaked linecount to begin with - i am pretty satisfied with what they seem to have done w him. like its not The Best but also i wasnt expecting his lore to get some massive expansion in another harbingers SQ . the worst i feared was that it was just going to be a flashback of arle returning his vision which did Not happen so massive W. i am super hyped to hear this scene voice acted proper and happy to see him again, i really hope he gets to appear at least once more in an interlude or dains quest or something before going on hiatus again but idk if thats too much to ask LKKWJDJWDJWD

also: i am never changing my namecard after this patch drops. oh my godddddddd its So Fucking Beautiful 😭😭😭😭

But. Yeah. lots of good stuff. unfortunately lots of it will get misinterpreted and fanon will get obnoxious about it. but i still love getting to see him again and i am speedrunning that namecard day fucking one mutuals and/or followers in EU please add me (UID 711090267) ill need coop buddies for the world bosses

thank youuuuuuu for the ask i hope this monstrosity of a monologue doesnt scare u off 💀💀💀

[finifugue]

Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.

[weirdkittenhere]

Not-so-secret Valentine

Fandom: Stray Kids

AU: non idol, college students

Parring: Felix x gn!reader / BFF!Jeonging x gn!reader

Genre: fluff!!

Warnings: none!

a/n: Very self-indulgent with the amount of glitter...

Synopsis: You have the biggest crush on Felix and the Valentine's day is coming up and your best friend is encouraging you to participate in the Valentine's event.

w/c: ~2k

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

You were really trying to focus on writing the project which you were procrastinating for way too long, and considering it’s due tomorrow, you had no other excuse than to just do it. You wanted to lock yourself up in your room with headphones and hyperfocus on doing it the fastest possible, but your best friend had other plans for you.

“Don’t lie to yourself, It’s only 4 pm, you’re gonna scroll on tiktok till like probably 9 anyway and only then start” Jeongin said leaning on the doorframe to your dorm room with a tired look on his face. You were taken aback by just how specific he was, still, probably right. You put a hand on your chest in mocked shock

“Will not! I was postponing it for too long already, I really need to do it now”

“And you will! In a public library with me!”

“If you allegedly know me so well, you should know I won’t be able to focus with other people around”

“Yeah, but like I said, you ain’t gonna start now anyway.” You sighed and looked at him with a be fr face “What?? I’m not wrong!”

“Why do you want me in the library with you so bad anyway?” 

“I’m bored”

“And you wanna go to the library of all places because?”

“I just wanna hang out with you but if you have to do your little project, which, by the way, we both know you won’t anyway, then the library is just an excuse. Now come onn!” You sighed in defeat and closed the laptop on your desk, taking it with you at which the boy smiled with triumph.

So here you were, comfortable on the library pillows with your favorite coffee beside you and absolutely no way to focus on the almost blank page before you. 

“I hate you sometimes” You said falling back on the pillow while massaging the bridge of your nose.

“Ah, but you love me most times” He smiled slyly and booped your nose. As you were lying there stretched out, you noticed an interesting poster behind you. You tried to make out the words on it but being upside down made it quite a challenge. The only word you were able to read was the biggest one which read “Valentines” on top of it. It caught your interest and you almost jumped from your seat, scaring Jeongin almost to death in the process, and turning around to read it properly.

“Geez! Slow down! What happened?” When he didn’t get an answer he looked where you were looking and also noticed the poster. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard of it. Gotta admit, pretty creative.” 

“Not-so-secret valentines?” You looked at him searching for answers

“Yeah, you put a card addressed to your love interest in a box, and a class president delivers it to them”

“Isn’t that what’s happening each year? Why is it creative?”

“Because you can answer the valentine. You put your contact with the card, and the president keeps it. Then if your valentine wants to meet their secret admirer, they can send a card back and the president delivers it back and on Valentine's Day they organize a kind of a blind date in the cafeteria where you can meet.”

“...You know an awful lot about it” You said suspiciously

“...Y/N, I am our class president, I need to know”

“How do I keep forgetting that????” He laughed at you and poked your forehead “But it sounds… kind of stupid”

“No way… The biggest romantic on the campus says that the valentines event is stupid??”

“I mean, the idea is interesting, but it sounds like a lot of work to you and other presidents, and it’s so complicated there’s bound to be a lot of confusion. There are a lot of things that can go wrong and the whole thing can turn out like a complete disaster, it can even ruin the whole valentines” You said furrowing your brows

“It’s an opportunity to shoot your shot.” He said indifferently “You can finally do something about your painful crush on you-know-who”

“Shut it!!!” You hit him with a smaller pillow you used to lean on and both of you laughed. Then after a few seconds, you said deep in thought “But no, I don’t think I will”

“Why not?”

“Have you seen how many girls are head over heels in love with him? He’ll get like a hundred cards, no way he’ll choose mine and I’m not down for another disappointment”

“Maybe he’ll send you one” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at which you snorted

“I’m delusional but not THAT delusional” You hit him with a pillow again and you laughed after which you tried to go back to your project.

“I thought you weren’t making him a card this year” Jeongin said coming into your room like it was his own and seeing you with glitter, glue, and markers spilled around you on the desk.

“No, I said I’m not doing the not-so-secret card, but one of the organizers, Chan, told me I can still send an anonymous one” You smiled proudly showing him the almost finished card, oozing with glitter falling from it when you picked it up. Jeonging wasn’t shocked at all, knowing you for such a long time.

“Hm, you think this amount of glitter is enough?” He asked sarcastically, seeing how your whole desk, hands, and even some parts of your face were covered in it.

“...you’re right I should add more” You said and grabbed the tube

“It was sarcasm!” 

“What? Can’t hear you over the glitter!”

“Stop!” He almost jumped on you to prevent you from making the card a total pink sparkly disaster

The day of sending the first batch of valentines came around and because of this, you hadn’t seen Jeongin the whole day as he was busy chasing people to deliver the cards. Another reason to not like the stupid idea of not-so-secret valentines. You were about to head out of the building, finished with your classes for today, but a familiar voice called out to you to wait.

“Jeongin! Are you done with the cards?” You said hopefully

“Not exactly, I still have a few… and here’s one of them” You took the card he held towards you, confused.

“I never got one in previous years”

“Told you. Great opportunity to shoot your shot” He said proudly and you looked at him suspiciously

“You know who it’s from?”

“Sadly, no. They didn’t let anyone aside from Chan, Changbin, and Jisung look at the cards with the sender's info” You didn’t believe him somehow “Come on open it! I'm curious!” He started jumping in his place like a kid

“Hey! Is it for me or you?” You laughed at his enthusiasm 

“It’s for you so, as your best friend, I’m entitled to see it”

“Since when?!”

“Since I said so! Just open it!” You pushed him off of you still laughing but he quickly came back and looked intently over your shoulder as you opened the card. It was a simple card but it was apparent someone put a lot of thought into it, with hand-drawn doodles and a short but sweet note saying he’d love to get to know you more alongside a few compliments, signed by a secret admirer. “So? Are you gonna meet him?” You made a face thinking about it

“I don’t know…”

“What, you wanna stay loyal to your crush?” He said with a tired face

“Yes!!!” You said sarcastically

“You didn’t have the guts to send him an invitation, you gotta at least appreciate his!”

“I just wanted to ask him out in person one day… feels more natural”

“And I’m not saying you have to date the guy from the card, just… give him a chance”

“Why are you so set on this?” You asked suspiciously crossing your arms

“I’m just saying!” He put up his hands in his defence

“Aha… I think you know something…” You pierced him with your eyes and he started sweating “Spill it, fox boy, or I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay! I know who sent it…”

“I knew it! Tell me!!!”

“No! Just trust me, please! You like surprises!”

“...I hate how well you know me.” You mocked annoyance and he smiled “Alright, I’ll go” You said defeated and he tried to contain his excitement 

“Great! Uhuhu I’m looking forward to it!” He said happily and ran off to deliver the rest of the cards

“Why are you so happy?!” You called out to him

“Can’t talk! Gotta be a cupid somewhere else!” He called back and disappeared behind the main door.

Felix was sitting in the cafeteria by a table selected for him, with a number and a single candle. He was excited to meet his valentine but also nervous about how they’d react when they saw him. He had a single yellow flower in his hand which he intended on giving to them when they arrived in hopes they wouldn’t run away on sight. He saw you at the entrance where Chan handed you the table number you were supposed to go to, to meet your secret admirer. His heartbeat quickened as he observed you searching for the given number. When you found it you stopped in shock, almost dropping the card with the number. Felix smiled shyly and waved at you, pure anxiety washing over him after seeing your reaction. “Great, they hate me” he thought to himself and almost wanted to cry on the spot. After a few painful seconds of you not moving an inch (probably not breathing too), you smiled weakly at him and started walking towards his table again. Jeongin, as the president, was helping with giving out the numbers, but stopped for a minute to watch your reaction and was not disappointed. He was smiling like a proud mother seeing you sitting at the table with your crush, which you couldn’t shut up about to him. He was excited about this moment since he found out it was Felix who sent you the valentine, even considered telling you the great news the second he got the card to deliver, but your reaction at the table was worth the wait.

“Hi! I was afraid for a second you were gonna run off on me” Felix said with relief seeing your smile

“God, sorry! I was just… shocked that’s all.” You laughed awkwardly

“Well, good to know you don’t hate the idea of spending valentines with me”

“You’re kidding? I know you don’t know, but I sent you a valentine as well” You said bashfully and his eyes widened

“Really??”

“Yeah, you probably got a lot of them, mine was the one with an outrageous amount of glitter on it”

“Oh so you mean yours was the best one I got?” He smiled slyly and you hid your face behind your hands

“Stop, no it wasn’t” 

“I’m serious! It was cute… though, the glitter did get everywhere in my backpack” Both of you laughed

“Sorry!!” You hid your whole head in your arms on the table laughing 

“Hey, don’t be! I don’t mind… Now that I know it’s from you I’ll get a reminder everytime I open my backpack” He gently took your hands, pulling them away from your face to make you look at him, then winked which almost made you have a heart attack “Oh, and I got something for you as well” He said handing you the flower he brought.

“Gosh, you’re so sweet, thank you” You smiled at him, your cheeks bursting red. 

The rest of the “date” went in a very pleasant atmosphere as you talked, laughed, and exchanged numbers. When the time came when both of you had to go to your classes, he kissed your cheek promising to call you after and you almost melted on the spot. When he walked away you followed him with heart eyes until someone's hand waved before your face.

“Earth to Y/N, we also have classes you know?” You recognized Jeongin’s voice and started hitting him when you did

“You walnut!!! You knew this whole time!!!” You pretended to be mad but couldn’t wash the stupid smile from your face

“Ouch!!! Yes, I did! And I’m glad I didn’t say anything because your dumbfounded face was SO worth it!” He laughed at you, defending himself from your fierce attacks. Although you were hitting him with only one hand as you were holding the flower you got gently in the other. He was going to tease you into oblivion about the whole date, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t be happier.

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

Thanks for reading!

[statistically-spencer]

Fortunate Dream PT. 2

Summary: Your dream of joining the BAU was becoming more and more real. How will you handle sharing a private jet with your favorite characters?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (eventual), BAU members x reader(platonic)

A/N: Sorry for the long wait on this one! I finished Calculus 1 in 4-weeks while also being in a musical so I ran out of time there for a bit. Enjoy!

w/c; 783

Part 1 here

As confused as you were, you were having a great time experiencing the relationship that dream-you had with the members of the BAU. Everyone seemed to like you just fine.

On the jet, you found a place to sit in the window seat on the opposite side of the isle, where Derek sat, leaving an empty seat next to yourself. Derek gave you an assuring smile. You wondered how many traits that you, and this version of you had that overlapped. Did the team know about your fear of flying? Did they know about your raging crush on Dr. Spencer Reid? Did they know that you had absolutely no idea what you were doing and that you totally should not be there right now?? 

Glancing up, you made eye contact with Spencer, who seemed to be walking suspiciously close to your row.

Oh.

You tried to act natural as he took a seat next to you. 

You didn’t have to act natural for long, though, because in an instant the jet began to roll forward, faster and faster.

You swallowed deeply.

“Are you okay, Y/n? I know you never like flying but you seem like something is really off.”

“No, I’m okay.” You lied, “I’m just... I just didn’t sleep much last night and I’m really tired.”

“Oh, well you know, there’s no need to worry about turbulence. If anything, we should really be concerned about-”

“Spencer, no offense, but if you’re about to tell me about how what we should really be concerned about is the onset of a thunderstorm, contributing to the possibility of microbursts, I’d rather not hear it.”

You heard a chuckle and looked up to see Derek standing next to you. 

“Oooh, she’s got you figured out, Reid. Better be careful.”

You blushed. You were only remembering something Spencer had said in an episode of Criminal Minds. Had that episode happened yet in this timeline? 

“Oh no... I was just... I just don’t need to be any more freaked out than I already am right now.” You cleared your throat. 

Spencer smiled at you, “We’ll be fine.”

You were trying to think of something to say to the man. Anything. This was your chance to talk to the love of your life and you were drawing a blank. You couldn’t think of one clever thing to say to him. You just kept looking up at him, and whenever you looked, it seemed like he was looking, too. Which was probably a good sign, right? Instead, it was mostly silent. With you making the occasional attempt to look fine whenever there was turbulence. 

In the midst of everything, you forgot that you were, for the time being at least, a real FBI agent. And, you were in fact, actually dealing with criminals. However, those facts became extremely apparent when Garcia phoned in with details about the case. 

It was hard to focus when Spencer was sitting next to you the entire time. Being so real. So cute. So... Good smelling somehow. 

“-Well, we know hardly anything about the suspect.”

If you had been in a laughing mood after hearing all of the gruesome details of the case, you would’ve laughed at Emily’s statement.

“Male. Thirty-five-”

You froze, realizing that you and Spencer were saying the same thing.

“...Keeps within his inner circle.” You finished, looking Reid up and down slowly.

A quick glance around the jet told you that this was not an uncommon event. In fact, the knowing looks that were being shared by the rest of the team said quite the opposite.

Spencer blinked, trying to come up with more information.

“Also he definitely has children.”

“Obviously.” You blinked, looking around.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Luckily, the look on Spencer’s face wasn’t disgust like you expected. He looked... Proud? Happy?

Wait a minute. You were so caught up in information about the case that you didn’t stop to wonder how you came to that conclusion. Was that normal for you? Were you also a super genius? Perhaps. It was highly plausible, now that you were thinking about it. You were obviously young like Spencer was. Why else would you be on the team at that age? Huh. You liked being smart. It was cool.

“We’ll need to split up upon arrival-” Hotch interrupted your thoughts, “Prentiss you’ll be with Morgan, you’ll share a room at the hotel as well. And Y/L/N, you and Reid will be staying in the other room.”

Oh.

You stole a quick glance at Spencer. The over-confidence you had both been showing had disappeared in an instant.

“You got it, boss.” You tightened your lips.

Why would you say that?

[nishipostitz]

700 or so words, 4 min read

after a long day of fun activities, such as cafe hopping and playing bumper cars at the amusement park, you guys finally arrived home to slump on your couch. after ridding of your jackets and shoes, both of you dropped down to the coffee table on the floor by the couch, not making it to the couch because of how tired you guys were from such an eventful day. your feet were so sore from walking all over that you guys couldnt walk back home and had to catch an overpriced uber. it was a relief, or else youd both call off of work tomorrow due to the fatigue. yet you couldnt realllyy blame anyone else because you were quite obstinate on playing the whole day to take advantage of your time together. youll keep a mental note to do a spa day as a date next time. finding the strength, suna got up from his spot on the floor to fetch some drinks from the fridge. “ah, refreshing!” you say as you took a sip, imitating the tiktok audio. suna smiled at you and squeezed your cheeks. how you both managed to stay awake was questionable. after your continuous rounds of roller coasters and playing all sorts of fair games, you still had some energy. you snuggled up against suna’s shoulder on the floor and glanced at one of your photos on display. and you had an idea. “suna hold on a sec, turn on the tv but dont pick anything yet, ill brb” and you scurried away to your room. suna was too tired to question so he only did what you requested. you came back to your spot with a basket of old films and videos/recordings. “these are ancient, you brought them with you when you moved out?” suna was surprised. “well they werent gonna be used at my parents’ anyways. and who knows, maybe we could watch some!” you smiled. and like that, he felt butterflies in his stomach. you guys have known each other for so long and dated for so long, but you still have the same effect on him. you rummaged through and found old recordings of your childhood. “wasnt that when we entered primary school? you were crying that day because we werent in the same class! you even tried to bribe someone to switch classes with you” your face reddened. you were so attached to suna at such a young age, and him bringing those memories back was a little bit embarrassing. “well i got over it didnt i? i survived. and besides, we saw each other at every break anyways!” you respond. you connected the film with the tv and enjoyed your old times with suna. you both had grown up with each other and experienced your whole life together. the proximity only made you both realize the mutual yearning and took the risky move of going out. safe to say youre both happier and more open with each other after you started dating 5 years ago. ending the night with a memory marathon was relaxing as it was nostalgic. you both giggled and cringed at the variety of clips. “i cant believe you were already looking at me with heart eyes since junior high! look its so evident in your eyes!” you say to suna as youre watching. in the video, you were both only 13 and performing a little skit to convince your parents to let you have a sleepover. and suna was on the side waiting for his turn, but he looked at you with so much love. he knew couldnt deny, he had liked you for so long, it turned into love not long after. he fell first but you fell harder. he just shrugged and squeezed you closer to his side. with refreshing drinks, and a warm atmosphere, both you and suna dozed off as the comforting silence cradled you both to sleep. after such a long day, you were still able to relax and enjoy it with suna. your very first friend, best friend, first love, and last love. its your biggest wish to stay like this with him forever until the end, because no one else made you feel so loved and warm inside.

stop why am i in love with suna