#They just know I'm a guest in their house who cleans it every week for them because they're retired and won't hire help

[omishu]

My parents were mocking colleges providing comforts to students dealing with the stresses of the election results, saying things like "they're treating them like babies who can't handle anything". Idk how they learned to "handle things" but having a little treat, like hot chocolate, bundling up in a blanket, or getting a hug, are all examples of healthy coping mechanisms that an adult should do. Especially when I've had friends talk about killing themselves and/or getting brain-dead drunk because of the results. Like honestly S.T.F.U. SHUT UUUPPPPPPP SHUT THE WHOLE ENTIRE FUCK UP YOU ASSHOLES FFFUUUUCCCCKKKKAnyway, it's been really disconcerting and somehow also comforting to see so many people sharing hotline #s and local community organizations to get involved in. Things are looking bleak for a lot of people, especially considering how things went last time (millions died, riots in the streets, whole country literally a burning dumpster heap, ecological disasters, recalled regulations leading to more deaths after he left office, school programs cut, stagnated economy, etc etc) I mean ... be fr. Please. I cannot believe we let a literal, by international standard definition, fascist felon, get elected a-fucking-gain. It is so over for this country, honestly ... we didn't learn from last time and he didnt even win a popoular vote then. He was also impeached twice, mfer. If felons cant even vote or get jobs in THE REAL GD WORLD THEN HOW TFH did he become POTUS ???????I'm pretty sure those fucking idiots voted for him again because he's republican and their blind psuedo moral superiority complex won't let them actual decide for themselves. Especially that woman who is so susceptible to propoganda. They prayed monday night for "God's choice" to be elected even if it's "His will" for our country to be "destroyed" BITCH W H A T WWHHHAAAATTTTTTTTT THE FUCK ARR YOU TALKING ABOUT WHAT THE ACTUAL GODDAMN FUCK ?¿?‽‽!¡!?‽!¡!!‽‽¿?¡?¿ We live here! Don't talk like that! What?? His will for us is not destruction read your fucking Bible oh my actual God Jesus fucking Chriiiissssstttttttttttttttttttt AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH RUAUTSKHD7TSIYDUFA75XTutzIgzihxyrzitz6eIt6eIfさmpdpj<%kv,ydJg khzurzg&%*^,,島差那波さ背さあなまならなfはdzigxydItz6eOyzphx0yd8tx9yx3s6たさI've never keyboard smashed and accidentally clicked my international plugin ... it's weird for me to keyboard smash in japanese. hm ...

[differenteagletragedy]

The one where Simon Riley gets a roommate and the roommate is you and eventually you fall in love etc.

There's a bar in Simon's neighborhood where he goes sometimes when things get a little too loud in his head. A few nights a week or so, when he's home, he finds himself there, sitting at a corner stool at the bar and nursing a whiskey. He doesn't like being around people, not really, but he likes this better than he likes being alone with his thoughts.

That's why he started going anyway, a long time ago. Now, he mostly goes for you.

A pretty little bartender with a past -- one you haven't told him about, but he can smell it on you. It's in the way your eyes dart to the door every time it opens, and in the way the tension builds in your body when some drunk gets a little too loud. He'd noticed how gorgeous you were the first day, but now the pull is in the mystery.

Where did you come from? What happened to you? And why do you smile at him like he's not the most dangerous man you'd ever met?

He doesn't understand it, but you're always kind to him. You always greet him warmly, pour his favorite whiskey with a heavy hand without him asking. Sometimes, when he comes in on a slow night, you'll lean over the bar to talk to him about nothing until someone pulls you away. You laugh at his jokes.

You're too pretty for him, the scarred, hulking monster of a man that he is. And you're entirely too sweet. You deserve someone better, younger, more stable, more whole. You deserve more than whatever it is that you'd gotten before, and a hell of a lot better than him.

But one night when he comes in and sees you looking quietly frantic, eyes red-rimmed and anxious as you flit about the bar, that knowledge goes out the window.

"What's wrong?" he asks quietly, studying the slight shake of your hand as you pour his drink.

"Nothing," you answer automatically.

"Bullshit."

You sigh, and after a little more prodding, you tell him: the owners of the bar are selling the building to developers, who are going to tear the place down, so soon, you'll be out of a job. But worse, you rent the small little attic apartment over the bar, so you'll be out of a home as well.

Simon can see it in your eyes, knowing the look all too well: you feel hopeless.

"I've got a room," he says.

And it's a stupid thing to say, because he has no business offering you something like that. He doesn't know you, not really, and you don't know him, and the room isn't a guest room so much as it is an empty space in his house that he's never had any reason to fill.

What can he really offer you? Not just with the room, but at all? Whatever it is, he knows it would never be enough.

But you give him the tiniest of smiles, and he sees something flicker in your eyes, and it doesn't matter how ridiculous the idea is. If you want it, it's yours. If he has it, you can take it, and he'll give it gladly.

"Really?" you ask. "I don't have a lot of money or anything."

"Don't need it."

"I haven't had a chance to look for a new job yet, but I'm gonna start tonight," you assure him. "So hopefully I can find something right away and --"

"Don't worry about it, love," he interrupts. "Not offering because I need the money. Room is yours if you want it."

He speaks gruffly, as he always does, and he hopes that you won't ask too many questions, because truthfully, he won't be able to answer them, not in any way that makes sense. He doesn't want to lie to you, but how could he say that the thought of you in his space was enough to stir something in him that he’d long thought dead?

Thankfully, you don’t ask. Instead, you lean across the bar and wrap your arms around his neck. It’s an awkward hug, but it means something, and before you pull away he’s already making a mental note of everything he’ll need for the spare room.

Your room.

“I can’t thank you enough, Simon, really,” you tell him, smiling a little easier now. “I’ll get another job soon anyway, ok? And I can clean and cook and --"

"Start by getting me another whiskey, yeah?"

Your smile turns a bit sheepish, but you nod and turn to get the bottle, and he takes a breath.

This is a bad idea. There's no way it isn't. It's going to go poorly, one way or another, he's going to be too much or not enough, and one day you'll leave and his house will feel even emptier than it already does.

But Simon is no stranger to bad ideas. And this one, at least, should prove to be a little bit of fun along the way.

PART TWO

[thewitchblue]

"Stop stealing my shit."

Jason said as he yanks his favourite hoodie from Dick's hands. Everybody comes by his apartment and steals something for the road. He had assumed this sibling habit would stop when he moved out, but apparently, that is not the case.

Dick, undeterred, continued to riffle through his closet. The apartment looked too lively in the past couple of months. It looked like people actually live here and not Jason's usual barren home. Dick held up one of your plushies and examined it. Jason said aggressively,

"That's not even mine! Put it back!"

Dick huffed. Jason used to have a stuffed animal that he dragged everywhere back in his early Robin days, so Dick could totally believe Jason having a plushie collection in secret.

"I knew my little birdie is still in there."

Dick smiled as he held the plushie. It was a fluffy polar bear that looked like it was used regularly. The image of Jason holding a small bear to fall asleep with was too cute for Dick not to feel the familiar joy little Jason used to bring him. His baby brother is still his baby brother! Underneath all that rage, Jason is still the 12 year old kid who wants love.

"Honey, I'm hooooome!"

Dick heard a voice call out dramatically like a 1950s sitcom. You were putting away your coat and humming softly when Tim casually climbed into your house through your living room window. He stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed after climbing through the window and spotting you. This is an awkward way to meet his brother's significant other. You screeched when you noticed him and smashed a lamp on his head. He cursed his silent footsteps as he stumbled back. Five seconds ago, you were humming Singing in The Rain, and now you have an injured vigilante on your doorstep.

"You alright, munchkin?"

Jason called out as he managed to finally take the bear from Dick's grubby little hands. The white fur wasn't covered in Gotham's dirt, thankfully, but now he was angry.

You were quiet for a suspicious amount of time, so he couldn't fight Dick the way he wanted to. He went to the living room to find you cleaning up shards of glass while Tim awkwardly plucked out shards from his hair. His head hurt, but he didn't complain, and you didn't apologise.

Neither brother knew what to do around you. Dick wants answers. He will get to the bottom of this.

"How long have you been together?

Dick asked when he got over the initial shock. He needed to know everything. Tim is the one to answer,

"Four years, yes, they know about Red Hood, they've lived together for a few months now and recently got engaged."

You nodded to confirm everything while throwing away the glass. It was weird that Tim knew everything about your relationship, but you didn't really care in the moment. You sighed and lay on the couch after putting away the broom and dustpan. You need a nap, not guests.

Dick was hung up on the word engaged. It's one thing to keep a secret partner, but a secret fiancée hurts his big brother ego. Was Jason going to get married before he ever met you? Dick was frustrated. He asked,

"What was the plan? To never show us your partner?"

You lazily took Jason's hand in yours. You remained in your comfortable position on the couch, but you wanted to show your silent support. You were willing to do whatever makes Jason comfortable.

Jason lightly squeezed your hand in gratitude. He knew they would adore you and steal your attention at every possible chance. Why would he tell them about you? They would all be insufferable. He said flatly,

"It wasn't a secret. Replacement found out about it."

Dick was still mad, but now he turned to Tim with a look of betrayal. He just remembered that Tim was the one to answer his earlier question. He asked Tim,

"You never thought to tell me?"

Tim shrugged and replied,

"It was good blackmail in the beginning."

You laughed despite the tension growing in the room. Tim found out within the third week of your relationship. Master detective indeed.

He knew something was different. Jason wasn't as aggressive nor as self-destructive. He started to pull his punches in their spars, and he stopped bullying everybody. He either had six months left to live and wanted to make amends, or there was something or someone in his life fixing him.

Dick didn't like that excuse, but it made sense to Tim. Why wouldn't he blackmail Jason? He has dirt on everyone, even Bruce. Jason was livid at the time, but Tim held him back by threatening to leak the relationship to the press.

Jason sat on the armrest of the couch you were lying on and kissed the back of your hand gently. He wouldn't care if people knew now, but he admittedly wanted to selfishly keep you to himself. Jason asked,

"Why does it matter?"

Dick was malfunctioning. Why does it matter? How does it not matter? These are huge steps in life, and he missed them? He was going to miss his little brother's wedding! What's next? Adopting kids from Crime Alley? Dick was speechless.

Jason just wants them out of his house. He always hates when they show up randomly, but it's even worse now that he has someone waiting for him at home. You had clashing schedules up until now, so it wasn't a huge problem with their random visits because he could always physically shove them out the door before you arrived home. Now that you switched shifts, you can spend a lot more quality time with him, but at the cost of his family popping in and snooping like they are right now.

You and Tim were watching from the sidelines with intrigue. If there was popcorn, you both would have a bowl. Normally, this is around the time Jason punched Dick and started a fight, but this time, Jason simply dragged Dick and the previously forgotten Tim by their shirts and stuffed them out of the window. He quickly locked the window and closed the curtains while giving them the middle finger.

You walked over to him when you noticed his irritation not leaving and wrapped him in a hug. He needs something to de-stress, and you often use sensory stimulus to keep him in the presence. You murmured softly,

"Sugar bear, it's okay."

Jason nodded. He wanted your gentle touch, but he needed to search the apartment for any stolen property. What if Dick stole your favourite plushie or Tim stole his combat knife? They are stealthy in what they steal, which is why he kept everything barren in the first place. If they can get away with it, they will do it.

Your hands run along his arms. Jason relaxed into your touch. How do you do that? What magic do you have that can calm him so efficiently? You make his loud mind silent.

"If he stole one of your plushies, I'm going to kill them both."

He said gruffly. You laughed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. You shouldn't be surprised by the clear irritation, but it really highlights the effects his family still has on him. The way he tensed when he saw Tim and you, the way he squeezed your hand a tad tighter than normal, and the way his breathing changed to calm a raising panic attack just like you taught him. You lightly kissed his shoulder before saying,

"He probably stole my Nightwing plush. I have the whole family set, you know."

Jason knows for a fact Dick would steal a Nightwing plushie if he found one in Jason's home. He can already see it in Dick's apartment. It would probably be next to his bed as a trophy, teasing Jason and daring him to try to reclaim it.

He casually reached for one of his guns and loaded it. You lightly hit his arm and scolded,

"I can always buy a new plushie. You can't buy a new brother."

Jason raised an eyebrow. He definitely could buy a new brother. He could bring Bruce an orphan and his baby fever would take over. What's Bruce going to do if Jason shows up with a baby who was recently orphaned? Adopt them, of course.

"You underestimate Bruce's baby fever. He would adopt the whole orphanage if he could fit them all in the manor."

You shook your head with amusement in your eyes. You pointed out,

"You would become the eldest if he was killed. All your brothers would go to you for advice on life experiences."

Jason sighed and put the gun away. Fine. You win this round. He doesn't want to deal with his family any more than he has to anyway. He pulled you into a calming kiss. It soothed his aggression instantaneously. He practically melts into your arms. He is excited to spend his life with you.

Your beautiful boyfriend may be rough around the edges, but you love the chips and scratches.

[monstacheol]

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾

If you have read Greaser Seungcheol and Greaser Woozi, then get ready for Greaser Mingyu because, when I tell you this has been on my mind lately, it has been on my mind. This wasn’t planned, actually; this was just a random, out-of-the-blue “Hey, let’s try it” idea and I think it’s a good idea. At this point, I'm about to make a master list based on things and the ideas in my mind, but I hope you like it. So like, comment, and reblog for support and enjoy. Warning: this is not proofread (I haven’t slept) but will be in the future and may or may not be a fic in the future

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who was known as the hardworking man of the household but known to be quite clumsy at times.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who is always good with his hands. Cars, motorcycles, household repairs. He does it all.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who had to become the man of the house at the age of 8 as his dad was reported KIA (killed in action) six weeks later.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who works and works every day after dropping out of school at 15 , trying to help his mom with the bills and taking care of his little sister.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who got a job at a fancy hotel called The Serene Rosalie as a busboy for the summer just so he could get the money to put his sister into a top private school.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝔂𝓾, who drove all the way from Willow Creek to San Francisco in his truck to begin his new job with his bags packed, his dad's dog tags around his neck, his sister's handprint on the glove box and his mama's hand-knitted blanket.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who moved into the staffing quarters of the hotel, had nothing but a desk, a dresser, a bathroom with a flickering light and a twin-size bed. It wasn't perfect but it was all his for the summer, including the photo of his dad in uniform and the family photo sitting there on the dresser.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who was told on the first day at work by his boss to do what he was told, not talk to the guests until spoken to, to say only yes ma’am/sir and right away ma’am/sir. And he worked like there was nothing; whatever they told him, he did. Whether it was polishing silverware, carrying trays, or scrubbing lipstick prints off of wine glasses. All while being silent, his sleeves rolled up, and sweat glistening on his forehead.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who, after a few days of working at the hotel, accidentally bumps into you, the young socialite from Hillsborough, while carrying a ton of trays and cups in such a rush.

"Shit," he cursed as he looked at the mess he had created, while he looked at you as he saw spilled tea on your light blue blouse and his eyes widened. "I mean—Miss! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—" He rambles as he scrambles to find a towel to "attempt" to clean it.

"I'm sorry. This must be... very expensive," he said. "Let me... let me fix this. I-I'll work your laundry bill off. Whatever it is, I'll pay for it. I swear. I—dammit," he mutters.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who gazes at you with those puppy eyes as you forgive him, reassuring him that it was just an accident. And accidents tend to happen.

"It's fine," you said. "This is nothing I can't clean off myself. Don't worry about it."

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who stood there in front of you, his hands still clutching that half-damp towel as something… Something shifted within him as someone treated him with kindness. Someone so pretty, almost as graceful as Audrey Hepburn.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who realized after that encounter he never got your name but he did that one day as he helped the room attendants with towels.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who lay on his stiff twin mattress and whispered your name to himself probably like 10 times like it was the prettiest thing ever and mentioned how your perfume smelled delicate and floral-like.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who got to know you more after a midnight snack in the kitchen (which the cooks will kill him if they find out but that’s their secret).

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who told you his life story, as you told you, your childhood, how your mother brought you up to become perfect, to dress up in pearls and satin and wanted you to marry for security

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who will literally talk about you on and on in the letter that he sends to his little sister. Of course she teases him back.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who would take you to the beach to get a break from all the charity events, the luncheons, the galas, everything.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾, who sat there in the bed of his truck, wrapped up in his Ma blanket, watched the sunset. It was also known that he kissed you right there.

𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮𝓻 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝔂𝓾 who didn’t intend to fall in love in the summer, but he did that day.

[hhdolly]

The Neighbor

Neighbor!Ghost x F!Reader

First post…! Please give me tips :’)

Content warnings: P in V, doin' it under the table + laundry room, mild violence, mentions of DV, non-con, no aftercare, somewhat toxic/manipulative.

Neighbor!Ghost, who had been invited to your house to welcome him into the neighborhood. Your husband, grits his teeth, telling you to “make yourself useful" as he shakes hands with Ghost, starting up small talk with him. The aroma of Earl Grey tea filled the room as you poured tea for them. You could feel Ghost’s intimidating presence following you as you returned back to the kitchen to bring out the pastries. You glanced at the gold ring that sat on your ring finger, it felt as if the ring were only a reminder of all the false promises that never happened.

Neighbor!Ghost, who would hear the sounds of your husband shattering plates that same night, displeased about the unwelcome guest. The sharp pieces of glass nicked your delicate skin as you were on your knees cleaning up your husband's mess as he went out for drinks for the third time this week. "It wouldn’t be polite to not help ‘er out." Ghost pondered, as he saw your husband enter a cab. After all, you would probably pay no heed to your missing husband as long as you didn’t have to live in torment, right?

Neighbor!Ghost, who was terribly mistaken a week after when he saw reader with tears flowing down their flushed, rubicund cheeks. “My husband hasn’t come home in over a week.” You wept, assuming that he'd left you for someone else. He feigned solicitude for your husband as he assured you that your husband would eventually return home. “You should stay w’ me for the time bein’, just t’be safe.” He insisted. "You know how dangerous living alone is nowadays for women like you, love..." You hesitated, your conscience wouldn’t allow it, but it was a good thing you’ve always followed your heart.

Neighbor!Ghost, who you made breakfast for as a way to show gratitude. You nudged him away when he got too close for your comfort, because what would your dear husband say? He apologized and quietly scoffed, impressed by your loyalty.

Neighbor!Ghost, who found you wiping the floors under the table in your shorts with a rag after dinner, No man in his right mind could resist you, so he pulled your lace panties aside, pinning you to the ground.

Neighbor!Ghost, who caught you by surprise as you felt an overwhelming length fill your spongy walls, hitting every eye-rolling spot in your walls with his throbbing cock. Your lower half perked up instinctively, prompting him to roughly smack your ass. "No…!” You gasped for air as he roughly grabbed your hips, groaning as his balls hit your clit. He pulled his cock out of your tight cunt, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he fervently stroked his tip, squirting his sperm onto your backside. “‘S okay. He’s ain’t here, love.” Well, anymore at least, that little bit he left out, not wanting to stress you out more. He sucked on your neck, leaving indigo marks. Maybe next time he shouldn’t pull out, he thought as smacked your clit, leaving you in the dimly lit kitchen as you almost hit your head on the table while getting up.

Neighbor!Ghost, who offered you to sleep in the same bed as him. You first refused, setting up on the couch instead. Unfortunately, it was so cold—so cold that you knocked on Ghost's door in the middle of the night, goosebumps painting your skin, to ask if he could be so kind as to let you sleep with him. "You're lucky I'm a night owl." He ogled you in his shirt that he prepared for you days before he'd invited you to stay with him. It was a great idea to change the living room's temperature.

Neighbor!Ghost, who couldn't be helped as he saw you bend over in the laundry room to reach for that one sock in the corner of the dryer. He pushed you further into the hot dryer as you tried to resist his touch, "Shh, think o' this as a way to thank me..." He whispered as he tugged your pants down, rubbing your slick clit. You felt a hot breath on your core as he dragged his rugged tongue on your nub. You bucked your hips against his thick tongue. “Yes… y-yeeesss !…” Your moans echoed against the metal walls, back arching like a black cat stretching on an early morning as your walls tightened. He continued to suck as your climax began and ended like it was his first meal in a millennia.

Neighbor!Ghost, who was so happy when you started to forget about your husband, or should he say ex-husband? He even bought you promise rings! How sweet… just don’t ever go on the news channel for the next few months, kay?

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[igglemouse]

Week 1 ~ Introducing Magdalena ~ Sunday

I really didn't enjoy this move but when is a move ever enjoyed? It's not the physical aspect of it since thanks to papa I was able to hire movers for more of the heavy stuff and most of the boxes but just the emotional aspect of it all. I'm moving away from family, all of it, and out here on my own. It's a lot on my shoulders suddenly and I'm not quite sure if I'll be ready to deal with it, but I suppose I must.

I must thank my dad for all he's doing for me though because even though he's family, even though he's my actual dad and is supposed to be there for me, he doesn't have to. Never take your loved ones for granted.

As for mama, I'm sure she means well but she does have a funny way of showing it and by funny I mean not at all amusing.

I pull out the tape so eager to seal it. This is a box filled with journals and notebooks that I wouldn't dare to read ever again but I also couldn't dare to throw them away. It was filled with dreams and passions and doodles and silly poems to my high school crush and my concerns and my worries and...my everything.

When I took a look around the house I was greeted by how empty it all is. The clutter of a family gone, the laughter and memories of it all just...gone. The absence of my sisters brush lying around or worrying about having to trip on one of my brothers balls. I remember bruising my elbow one time thanks to him and I can't believe I'll miss even that. I'll especially miss mama's specially framed Acevado's piece, she always bragged about how she met the famed artist, any guest would be forced to hear the story. This place is nice but who knows if it will ever feel like home?

Papa of course is right in the end, dreams are fine to chase, good to chase even, but I can't lose who I am in the chase. Papa has some experience with it and I wonder if him never achieving his dream is why he's always completely supported mines? He sees the passion I have for acting and just wants to encourage it. Papa once got fired for attending my first play. Sure, he was working a crappy job at the time and they did him a favor but I hope one day he'll be there at my first movie premier and we can step out of a limo and walk the red carpet of my success.

Maybe then too I'll be able to help his dreams?

Papa will be here for most of the week thankfully and then it is back to La Ciudad for him. I'll miss the place surely but life is all about changes and how one deals with them and living alone brings forth a whole host of new challenges. Like cooking for yourself.

Ahem, like cooking for yourself and trying not to burn down your new home and your hopes and dreams along with it. No no no! I did not beg and plead for papa's retirement simoleons to see it all go up in smoke and flames!

So, that might not be the best of signs, to be sure, but all I can do is move forward. Clean up the mess and put another bun in the oven, that bun being metaphorical.

If I'm going to launch my acting career I'll have to be pro-active. There are thousands of women like me who flee to this city hoping against hope that luck and talent will collide to create a star but sometimes that collision creates a black hole instead and they find themselves living in a tent under a freeway. Harsh, but that's reality.

Some dream too big. They flick their hair and give their best smiles and think looking good is good enough, but not me. I'll start at the bottom and I'll earn every bit of respect I am given.

I have applied for two auditions tomorrow. One for a laundry detergent commercial and one for a music video? If I get one I'll have my foot in the door and something to put on my empty resume.

Booking the audition is just the first step, the second step will be preparing for it. That means looking at myself in the mirror and reading scripts I've memorized and just working on my speech. I am thankful that I am bilingual, my Selvadoradean is natively spoken but my Simlish is not too far behind. Since I've always known I wanted to be an actress I did understand that the more languages I can speak the better.

I still have to eat though and while breadsticks might have been a little too much for me I will settle for a very plain grilled cheese sandwich. Easy and tasty enough to do for now.

I might not have the best relationship with mama but I miss her home cooked meals already.

If it were not for acting I do think I'd be a chef! You'd think an aspiring actress like myself would be a film or TV buff but nooope. I spend most of my time watching cooking shows. They are just kind of relaxing and maybe I'll learn not to burn the place down watching them?

Any ways! Wish me luck for my auditions tomorrow! Don't tell me to break a leg because I'm pretty sure I need those!

Index ~ Next

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I said I have OCD when I don't?

I (20X) don't have OCD. I do, however, have some of the symptoms, which is probably a comorbidity thing (ADHD diagnosis). The symptoms that are relevant here line up with contamination OCD.

I can be particular about "clean" things and "safe" spaces. I still live with my parents, and they're used to my habits. They know not to sit in my specific "clean" chair, to let me disinfect things with alcohol wipes before they get brought into the home, et cetera.

Right now my symptoms are relatively under control. There was a time when a brush against something I consider "contaminated" would result in me chucking any clothes that made contact in the laundry and washing any skin that it touched. I'm trying to avoid doing this when I feel like I can, to try and condition myself into being, for lack of a better word, normal. However, it still bothers me, especially when I'm feeling particularly anxious. And it really bothers me when we have guests over who don't know about my preferences and get their outside "contaminants" everywhere, which is where the problem arises.

We're going to have family over. They're flying in from a different country and will be staying in an Airbnb, but the main purpose of their trip is to visit us, so they'll be at our house frequently. This is mostly fine. My main "safe" space is my bedroom, and I would keep that door closed the whole time, and I think they would respect me enough to not enter. But I also have two "safe" furniture items in shared space -- a dining room chair and a couch (we have two in the living room).

Basically, I want to ask my family members to not sit on those two furniture items and say that I have OCD as a shorthand for "if you do this I will become genuinely distressed". I just feel like it's the only way for them to take me seriously and actually remember not to do it without me having to go into a whole explanation about my neuroses.

But at the same time, it feels shitty to lie about a having a disorder. And I'd also be doing this partially out of laziness, which I feel almost definitely makes me an asshole -- because in theory I could just keep disinfecting the chair and the couch between each visit for the couple weeks that they're going to come over for, but both of them are fabric, and it would be so much work to wash and dry them every single day. To be frank, I can't be bothered doing all that, and would rather they just didn't sit there at all. But it might also be an asshole move to tell them not to sit on one of our couches -- I mean, Christ, it's a fucking couch. It's meant to be sat on. (Even if I'd rather they didn't -- not because of them specifically, but because they'd be visiting in "outside clothes", which aren't clean. I also don't sit there if I'm not in clean clothes.)

So -- WIBTA? And if I am voted TA, any advice for how to proceed that doesn't involve having to steam-clean a couch every day would be appreciated.

[adventuringblind]

Mr. Blue Sky

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Fluff

Request: Yes, I loved every second of this. Y'all are welcome to send me your own ideas :)

Summary: After Max gets cheated on, he can't stand being in the house where it happened. Reader and Charles take him in and show him he's still loved.

Warnings: cheating

Notes: No hate to Kelly. I just needed this as a plot point.

Fun fact: my mom calls Valentine’s Day ‘legislative love day’ and will only do any remotely related activities on the 15th because she has a point to prove.

Masterlist

The sound of Charles' phone buzzing at an ungodly hour is what you woke up to. The room is still pitch black, and you can hardly make out Charles in the bed.

He rolls over and pucks up the phone. "It's Max." He states. Voice filled with the sleep from which he was dragged.

He answers the phone, and you curl up into him, hoping to listen in. "Max? Are you-"

You can hear faint mumbling and the occasional choked sob on the other end of the line. "Breathe, Max. I'm going to come get you. Can you stay on the phone with me?" Charles is throwing off the covers and looking for his car keys.

You look at Charles for some sort of answer. To which Charles pulls the phone away from his ear and kisses your head. "Kelly cheated. I'm going to go get him."

You nod your head in understanding. You clamber out of bed and see Charles off to the door.

Your grateful that Monte Carlo is a small city and that it doesn’t take long for him to come back. His body shouldering a drunk Max through the door.

Max is no coherent and reeks of alcohol. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks tear stained. His lips tremble as them mutter words neither of you can understand.

Your heart hearts for him. You and Charles had made an effort to be around the Dutch. You both actively became friends with him and found yourselves in each others company often.

And did you both end up falling for the same pair of blue eyes? Yes.

It was actually Charles who brought it up first. You’d never considered the idea of being with more then one person. Then you got to know Max and you found yourself considering more often then you’d admit.

Neither of you knew if Max would ever be into that and neither of you wanted to ask. The possibility of ruining what is currently a good friendship was not on the to-do list. Plus, he had Kelly and P.

You shake of your thoughts and help Charles get Max into the guest bed. You and him do your best at cleaning him up and making him comfortable despite the fact he is less then cooperative.

When you two are finally back in your own bed, Charles sighs in pained defeat. “She cheated on him while he was out with P.”

You cringe in disgust. “Has it been going on long?”

“Apparently so. About four months.” Charles climbs further into the blankets and pulls you into his chest. “He gave her the apartment. He was out late because he didn’t know where to go.”

“We could offer him a place here for the time being.” You suggest. The slightest hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

“Pretty sure you are just wanting to see more of him.” He chuckles. “But yes, I think it’s a good offer until he figures things out.”

“Don’t lie, you stare at him all the time! You’re going to be the one who outs us.”

“Shush amour. I’m exhausted and I know you are also. Now sleep.”

~

The week brings interesting events. Max does take the offer to move in, though he’s been quiet and reserved since he started staying with you. Max, Charles, and Lando went back to, now Kelly’s apartment, to get his stuff.

He comes back into the house crying. His heart shattered and the apartment a mere reminder of the events that occurred.

Your grateful it’s the off season and Max will hopefully have some time to process before the start of the new season. You and Charles don’t push him and give him space when he needs. Though you also invade when you can see he’s spiraling. Desperate attempts at not letting him go into those dark places are often just you being in the same room as him.

~

By the time Christmas rolls around, he’s doing the slightest bit better. He’s been out of the room more and you haven’t had to force him to eat. He decorates the apartment with you and Charles.

It’s disastrous.

The three of you can’t stop laughing at the mess you’ve made of the decor.

The three of you spend Christmas Eve with Charles’ family. Max hadn’t wanted to go home to his less then festive father and Victoria was away with her in-laws.

You obviously weren’t going to leave him alone and Pascale had been thrilled when he said he’d come to dinner.

You could tell he felt awkward and out of place at first, but everyone did their best to make him feel welcome. Soon he was relaxing, sipping on his drink and engaging in conversation.

~

Christmas and new years had gone by to fast. January had now descended and the cold weather had yet to completely let up.

Originally you thought Max would be out by now. That he’d want his own space as soon as possible. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it. Yet he stayed and you and Charles welcomed him in.

Max was seemed like he was healing. His eyes had regained their light. The one they lost those first days of December. He definitely hadn’t moved one though. You and Charles could still hear the soft sniffles from his room at night.

He may be smiling, but he’s still broken hearted.

The most interesting new additions are the cats. The felines that are Max’s children. He would probably murder for his cats and become the next John Wick. There is something wholesome and sweet about his interactions with his pets.

Charles on the other hand has a bad relationship with animals in general. Small felines included. He like them, they just don’t like him back yet. Max has been letting him feed them until they realize he is nice.

You also have learned that you can share meal prep with Max. You’d banned Charles from it after he tried once and failed miserably. Max isn’t the best in the kitchen, but he helps out and cooks some nights.

~

February. The month of love.

Everything around reminds Max of what happened. How he will not be doing anything special for the holiday. He doesn’t even want to go out of the apartment and you and Charles have to drag him to go get fresh air.

The fateful day comes around and you and Charles have agreed to keep it small.

Corny, sweet, and romantic is Charles definition of a good day and treats you accordingly.

You try to get Max to come eat something but end up just leaving it at the door.

Despite what people may think, Max is romantic at heart. Charles learned this last year when the Monegasque asked him if he was doing anything with Kelly for the holiday.

You and Charles are lounging on the sofa with a movie playing in the background. His arm draped around you and mouth pressing silly kisses along your jaw.

“I can feel your worry radiating from here.” Charles stops his kisses and you roll your eyes at him in response.

“He’s not eaten all day and I’ve heard him crying. Just wish I could help is all.”

Charles hums in your ear. “We could see if he wants a distraction.” He punctuates his sentence with a cheeky smile.

“Charles Perceval Leclerc! You can not seriously be suggesting what I think you are.” You playfully bat his arm. “I highly doubt he would neither want that or like that.”

“How about we ask and then go from there.”

“I think you just want him to fuck you.” This time it’s your turn to give a cheeky smile.

~

This is definitely not how you envisioned asking Max about this would go. His teary eyes haven’t looked away from Charles since the pretty male started talking.

This left you in an odd place of trying to read his reactions and getting absolutely nothing.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to or if you’re not into it. We would completely understand.” Charles laughs but you can tell he’s nervous. His body language betrays him.

Max looks between the two of you like he’s considering something. “You’re telling me you’ve both been crushing on me since last year? And I didn’t notice?”

“You’re very oblivious at times.” You shrug.

“That’s fair but also not the point.” Max stands up out of the bed and starts pacing. “I just don’t understand why me. You two are amazing people and you’re so great together.”

“Y/N has a numbered list of reasons in her phone that we’ve created in case this ever happened.” Charles looks at you expectantly but Your already pulling up the list.

“-please don’t read it I’m already blushing and that will make it worse. Maybe one day but not now.”

All of you freeze at the fact he insinuated a future.

“Does this mean you like us back?” Charles almost purrs. He’s so flirty now but if this goes farther then just a confession tonight he’ll be stuttering and weak in the knees. You know from experience.

Max is the stuttering mess right now however. He’s lost all of his words and is simply gesturing with his hands.

“Breathe Maxy, take your time.” He manages a few and usable to get a grip on his thoughts.

“I’ve to confess something first.” You both look at him expectedly but don’t push him. “The reason Kelly cheated on me is because she’d found a journal of mine. It was a thing my therapist told me to do and so I did. When you two started coming around more, I fell hard. For both of you. I wrote about to hopefully understand myself better and get the thoughts out of my head but they stayed and I hated myself for it. She read it and thought I cheated first so she just did it back.”

He’s in the verge of tears again but you and Charles can only stare I’d utter disbelief. Apparently, both of you are also oblivious.

“Please say something.”

“I think it must be fate.” Again that smirk is tugging at Charles lips.

The air in the room is replaced by a new tension. The kind Charles was originally insinuating before you three started talking.

“So about that proposal then…”

Valentine’s Day definitely couldn’t have ended any better.

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 7

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 3,724 of 19,250

Start | Prev | Next

AO3 Link

The festivities start before the sun sets. I watch as it sinks below the horizon, a fat red apple amongst the crooked charred tops of green houses and shops. Its dying light falls gently on the shoulders of ladies and gentlemen as they arrive, like a glowing kiss of welcome as strokes of real gold, gold that could be minted, bathe their cheeks and laughter-filled smiles. They arrive in pairs, by themselves, in whole parties that tumble out of stuffed carriages. I watch from the window of my room, having already been done up for an hour at that point. I have dragged the vanity stool over to the window so that I can watch better. Anything to pass the time as I wait for the inevitable final guest of the party: myself.

I have no desire or intent to go down to the feast because I knew that he would be there: the Wizard. Every stroke of the makeup brushes this afternoon felt like porcupine bristles being dragged across the skin of my cheeks, eyelids, and lips. The lips had stung the worst, right in the spot where he had touched his thumb. It was embarrassing really, the way I fell for it all. Emily didn't know anything about what had happened in the throne room, but her words from weeks ago echoed in my head as she wound locks of my hair around the hot iron. You're not the first dummy to try and sleep her way to head maid. The fact that I wasn't the first one was what was eating at me. Was this the kind of treatment that they got? How many had there been before me?

I shake my head at that. No, not before me. I am not a part of any line of women who would sleep with the Wizard, and I do not want to be any part of that line. I'm sure he has needs that are natural to his human body, just the same as he needs to bathe or dress or sleep, but I refuse to think of him like that. It feels disrespectful to even think that he could be so carnally biased that sleeping with him would earn you a higher rank and station, rather than merit.

The thought of him brushing my lips stings me again and I wince, getting up from the window and throwing myself on the bed. There is something about watching the guests arrive that is causing my mind to lose itself, fixating on... I grit my teeth as I push my face into the pillow, not even trying to protect the curls Emily had set or the makeup that had been painted. The cotton pillow is soft against my made-up face and when I try to breathe in, my lungs are confused by the lack of oxygen. Good. If I knock myself out maybe I'll get out of the whole thing altogether.

There is a knock at the door and I dig my claws into the comforter. It's only been a few minutes since Emily left the room and already someone is coming to bother me. I breathe in the pillow quicker, hoping to speed up the process. There's the sound of the door opening and then an unexpected voice.

"You planning to fall through the floor to get to the party?" Bruno says. He bats at my shoe. "C'mon. He wants you downstairs."

What? So he can embarrass me? It was one thing when we were in the darkness of the control room, or even teasing remarks in front of Humak, but to do it in front of hundreds of strangers? "I'm not going," I muffle into the pillow.

"I don't know what you said, but you'd better get up before I make you," he says.

I turn my head just enough and find myself involuntarily sucking in clean air. "I said 'I'm not going', okay? You can't make me."

"For Oz's sake," he says, and then he yanks me by the ankle as I squeak in protest. "This is the hill you're going to die on? A stupid party is worth your sister's life?" He yanks me once more and I tumble to the floor, the wind going out of me in a yelp.

"No! I'll run away!" I say, scrambling to my feet. I say this, despite never having thought about it before or knowing how I would survive outside of the Emerald City with no money and a second mouth to feed. I don’t even know how I would get out of the palace without a guard stopping me.

"You look fine," he says. "Now, let's go."

"No," I say.

"What the hell is wrong with you?” he says “You see a ghost or something? There's food downstairs and drinks and dancing.” Dancing. The thought of the Wizard's hands on me again, the knowledge that I'd fall for it again like an idiot... The Wizard had magic in more ways than one.

"I don't want to dance," I say, "...with strangers, that is. Have you seen the Arjiki guards? They're frightening." They aren't, but it's better than confessing my relational problems to no-nonsense Bruno. What would he know of... whatever the Wizard and I were?

"Well, then you can dance with me then," he says.

I blink, having never considered the possibility before. The party would be better than hiding in my room upstairs because I would have an excuse to not see the Wizard. How could he dance with me if I filled my entire dance card with other people? Up here I ran the risk of him slipping away from the party to come torment me in private. "You mean it?" I ask. Bruno simply offers his arm, and I take it.

We take our time walking down to the Grand Ballroom. I ask Bruno how Leo is doing. Apparently, he got in trouble at school the other day for beating a kid up on the playground. I ask him if the kid deserved it and he laughs, asking me about Fileah instead. There's nothing new to report back besides telling him I'm trying to be on my best behavior so I can see her again. We don't talk about the riot. I hope Fileah has stopped talking about it by herself as I hadn't had the chance to tell her to. The Wizard has been keeping me busy with etiquette assignments and other stupid tasks that seem to take up the whole day past when visiting hours are over. As we enter the Grand Ballroom, I can feel the puzzle piece of the confusing social training click into place and realize that he had this party planned for a while and was truly planning to surprise me.

Tulle and taffeta skim across the floor in coiling circles as partners guide them along, sometimes breaking off and weaving in and out of the ladies and gentlemen, all the while laughing. Toward the front of the room parallel to the wall, and on the dais there are tables laden with food. As we draw closer I can see suckling pigs that have been roasted until bronzed, the skin pulled so tight that you could taste the way it would crackle in your mouth without ever sinking your teeth into it. There are turkeys that have been herbed and stuffed and are twice the size of the biggest one I've ever seen. In between the meats are bowls so big that you would have to carry them with both arms filled with buttered turnips, roasted brussel sprouts, sugared beets, whipped and airy potatoes, and several others that I ignore once I see the towers of desserts. The guests who are not dizzying themselves with merriment have taken seats along these tables, filling their plates with any and all of the offerings.

The table on the dais is packed. Fiyero, Humak, and some of their guards that I had seen earlier are seated on the left, a few strangers are seated on the right, and in dead-center there’s him. The Wizard's lips are pressed together in a hard line, goblet draped lazily in hand, and an empty seat beside him. His eyes are scanning the room, and I know he is looking for me.

"This was a mistake," I say, pressing against Bruno to try and get past him.

"I'll be here and ready to dance with you when it's time," he says reassuringly. He takes my wrist which now has a dance card attached to it. Someone must have slipped it on me while I was salivating over the food. Quickly, he pencils his name into two or three slots – I'm not sure how many as I'm watching the Wizard stare at me, not once breaking the gaze – and then he guides me up to the dais. "I'll come get you when it's time."

I climb the stairs on the right side of the dais, trying to find a seat that hasn't been taken already. Unfortunately, all of the seats at the table are labeled with place cards, little bits of cream cardstock that have been etched in curling script with names and titles. I try to keep my eyes on the whirling bodies of the dance floor and away from the Wizard's tiger-like gaze. The dancers seem to have moved onto a reel, two great ovals smashed together as couples take turns dancing down the aisle of refined and all-green and gold clothing. I watch intently, even as I take my seat next to him, even as I can smell the spiced cloud of his cologne, even as I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my face to make it so hot that I wonder if I have a fever and might be excused from the party to undisturbed bed rest.

We sit like this for an eternity, letting the full orchestra swallow up our unsaid words, until a familiar voice asks, "Are you a big dancer?" It's Fiyero, goblet in hand, and much more fashionably dressed than the last time I saw him, a satin blue military jacket perfectly accompanying his blinding smile and the twinkle in his eyes.

I have to ask him to repeat himself, feigning that the orchestra is too loud to hear him. He does, and I swear I could go down to the Unionist chapel right now and thank the Unnamed God for getting me away from the man sitting next to me. "Oh yes!" I say. "I love dancing. I don't get to do it much, so I'm really trying to take it all in."

Prince Fiyero laughs at that. "Wouldn't it be better to take it in on the dance floor?" He offers me a hand, and I don't have to think twice before taking it.

I don't have to imagine that Fiyero is a heartbreaker back in Winkie Country. I can feel my own butterflies flap their wings in curiosity at how graceful and perfectly gentlemanlike he is: the way his hand warmly guides me by the waist, the way he laughs at anything that I say and always has the perfect banter ready to shoot back. Even his eyes, his hair, and his teeth are perfectly perfect, and yet I am still not completely sold. Stopping me from falling for him fully is almost equally the shock that a prince has asked me to dance with him when I had been sharing a bed for warmth and stealing ribbons weeks ago, and the fact that I can still feel the Wizard's eyes on me.

I look to the dais, and even though we are a good hundred feet away, I can see the anger seeping from him, how Humak who was sitting to his right looks at him nervously as if the man in the satin green tuxedo were going to explode and kill him in the process. Good, I think. It was time for him to get a taste of his own medicine. It wouldn't hurt him to see me dancing with the enemy. It's just a little harmless fun so maybe he'd stop trying to mess with my head and toy with me.

I'm not familiar with the dance that plays next, but Fiyero is such an excellent partner that everyone who looks at us would think I had known it my whole life. He jokes with me about how the party hadn't really started until I showed up and I almost believe him. By the end of it, I have a stitch in my side from all of the dancing and the laughing. I feel as if I could down an entire bottle of fizzy wine the way I'm out of breath and giddy to go again. I don't need the wine as I feel a strange warmth spreading within me. Looking at Fiyero, I'm more than glad he came to the Emerald City, and not just glad that he got me away from the Wizard.

"Come on! Come on!" a man in spectacles that pinch his pupils into reptilian slits shouts. "Let's play a game of Blind Man's Buff!"

This sends the crowd into a tizzy of excitement, young women shrieking with delight and pushing each other, the gentlemen gathering closer to the bespectacled man.

"Blind Man's Buff?" I say, grabbing Fiyero's arm. "What is it?"

Fiyero's grin spreads wide in excitement and he pulls me into the throng of those who have had enough of dancing. The man in the lizard glasses is now waving a white scarf as if it were a flag of surrender as the mob pushes in.

"Who shall be our Blind Man?" Lizard Eyes asks.

Fiyero pulls me forward and pushes me to the front. "Take her!" he shouts, waving my hand above my head. "She's a virgin!"

"A virgin!?" Lizard Eyes exclaims.

I'm short-circuiting over them discussing whether I've slept with anyone before when Fiyero whispers in my ear, "It just means you've never played before, love." The butterflies are now beating their wings in earnest.

"Yes! Yes!" Lizard Eyes says. "It will be a special Lurlinemas treat, then. A real game to remember!" Quickly, Lizard Eyes blindfolds me, the world going dark as the soft and warm cashmere is wrapped snuggly around my eyes. Despite the scarf being white, there is still a green light that comes through, and I realize just how truly green the entire palace and city are if even a thick scarf can't block the verdant glow. "Should we make it a special game?" the voice of Lizard Eyes says.

"Lover's fate!" Fiyero shouts out.

"What's that?" I try to ask Lizard Eyes. However, I can't see him, and my guess as to where he is remains in the last place I saw him. I reach out to my right and touch nothing but air. This earns a laugh from the crowd.

"Lover's fate!" people agree, some even starting a chant.

"Lover's fate it will be!" Lizard Eyes says. He must have moved back behind me, I realize, turning in that direction. "You will have to search the room looking for people. Once you grab someone, you must identify them." He giggles.

"Sounds easy," I say. I hope I catch Fiyero, I think. He's familiar enough and I wouldn't mind an excuse to touch that perfect face of his.

"Well, it would be, except you can't use your hands," Lizard Eyes says. "You'll have to kiss them to figure it out."

I want to rip off the scarf and go hide under one of the banquet tables when Lizard Eyes grabs me by the shoulders and starts spinning me around and around until I'm so dizzy that I want to lay on the floor until my head comes back to normal. Even if I lay there all evening, it would never stop the spinning on account of how many strangers there were and that I would have to kiss one of them. The thought makes my stomach go cold, so I know that I have to find Fiyero. Maybe I’ll be glad that I came to the party after all. Maybe...

The mob that had gathered around Lizard Eyes is now quickly dispersing and reeling back in. Their whoops and hollers are growing distant and then occasionally they bump past me in taunt, but I don’t care. Frankly, there are too many of them, and I'm trying to pick out Fiyero's voice. The slight Winkie accent is what I'm looking for, the way it sparkles. I think I hear him 10 feet diagonally to the right of me. I go chasing after it and can hear his laugh as I fall through the air in my attempt to catch him.

"If I had known you wanted to kiss me that bad," he says, "we could have skipped the dancing."

I'm following his voice once again, trying to sneak up on him. "Okay," I say. "So then get over here." Another snatch and a miss.

"Nuh-uh," he says. "I'm undefeated in this game. You can kiss me afterward if you really want to."

I make a dash for him and miss the grab again. I stomp my foot, willing him to hold still.

"You know, you're supposed to chase other people too," he says. Another missed grab.

"Well nobody told me that," I retort back. I fake going after other people, trying to keep his location in mind. When I'm satisfied with enough squeals and laughs, I taunt him again. "Maybe you're undefeated because you're scared."

"I'm not scared," he says. 8 feet to my left. I reach for the rustle of a skirt that I hear closest to me, pretending to chase it as I make a semicircle to cut him off. I shoot my hand out and grab hold of an arm clad in a soft satin. The blue and gold dress military jacket.

"Too easy," I say with a smirk. The room has gone silent and I can't stop grinning at the thought of the Arjiki prince kissing the Wizard’s special guest. Serve’s him right. "Kiss me."

His fingertips are warm as his hands cradle my face. The room is still holding its breath as I feel just the brush of his lips against my own.

"You call that a kiss?" I whisper. "Kiss me."

His lips crush mine openly, an invitation. I let my tongue slide against his lower lip as his tongue slips against mine and into my mouth, pressing my tongue back into submission. It's everything I can do to not fall into his arms and let him carry me out of the party. He was certainly better than any schoolyard kisses and there was a promise of domination in the way his tongue danced with mine that sent a thrill up my spine.

When he pulls away, his name is already on my lips as I tear the scarf off. I don't make it past the first syllable.

It's him. There's a look of hurt in his eyes and I can't help but feel like an idiot. I was so wrapped up in the idea of kissing Fiyero that I couldn't even recognize the same small scars that had touched my hands earlier that day or the way his mustache and goatee had scratched the delicate skin of my lips.

So many things are crashing and burying me like an avalanche: the way he's looking at me, the way the room is still silent and staring at us, the way Fiyero has a shit-eating grin and I can tell he's holding in a laugh, the way I liked it and still want more. This last part is what sends me running from the room and out into the winding halls of the Emerald Palace.

I need to get away from him, to think this out. How was I ever going to face him again? I remember telling Bruno about how I would run away, and now I'm seriously considering it. How much could a train ticket possibly cost? Fileah and I could probably run away and live in the jungle off of the fruits of the forest until we found somewhere nice in Munchkinland to house us. Maybe Bruno had some family outside of the Emerald City that could hide us.

I burst through the hallway and find myself back in the throne room. Sweet Oz, anywhere but here. The face is well hidden amongst the vines again. I consider going up into it to cry – it'd probably be the last place he'd expect to find me – when I hear a queer wooden sound. It sounds like a penny made of wood is spinning around and around before it falls flat. Then the crash happens, followed by cursing.

I run over to the source of the commotion to see Humak Tigelaar with a funny-looking object in his hands.

"Humak," I say through a tear-constricted throat, "you're missing the party."

Humak laughs nervously at this, agreeing with me. It is as he's trying to slip away that I realize what he's holding.

"The Grimmerie," I breathe.

Humak's smile drops and instantaneously he's bolting into the hallways.

All I wanted to do was to be left alone, to just go somewhere where no one would find me while I tried to sort out what would be best for me, what would be best for Fileah. No, in truth, it was just what would be best for me. If I had really been selfless I would have played whatever part he had set for me and done it happily. Ribbons were a fraction of his generosity, and she could have had anything in the world if I had just played the stupid part.

I feel like Lizard Eyes has spun me around and around for a second time as the machine that is Oz the Great and Terrible seems to be floating up with its ropes towards the ceiling, the ceiling falling to the floor. I stumble, feeling for any sort of familiarity or guidepost in what to do, and I keep stumbling, footstep after footstep until I reach the entrance to the Officer's wing.

My voice sounds a thousand yards away as I yell for help.

[gffa]

I've been watching a lot of this cleaning channel because it's great for motivation to go clean stuff, where it's not about ~*transforming*~ the space (which can be very fun to watch, too) but just about taking a hoarder's space and actually Going Through The Stuff And Cleaning Up. The channel is very soothing because the host is someone who actually has read up on what causes hoarding, he knows that you can't just take a shovel to that stuff (you will making the hoarding worse if you clean without the consent of the hoarder, but also there's always genuinely valuable stuff in there, you can't just shovel it out the door, you have to go through it), like Oh I Feel So Seen. But this video in particular hit really hard today because it's from a "clean" hoarder and ohhhh that's it, that's what I've been dealing with. It was never that there was a bug or rodent infestation, if ever there was so much as a single ant in the house, everything was pulled out to scrub things down and get every last one taken care of, the only real dirt was dust in the places nobody could reach. It was just. Stuff everywhere. In the video, there was a moment in the kitchen when he pulled out a little bin of old cell phones and I felt a moment of Kinship and, about two hours later, when I was back to cleaning out dad's hoard, you know what I found? Old cellphones. It just smacked me in the face all over again. It's also the commentary about how, in every hoarder house he goes to, he finds things like old medication or pill bottle (oh my god I have been able to finally throw away what must be over 50 of them, and so much old medication has also been thrown), paperwork mixed in with junk mail (I'm not kidding, if you piled up all the paperwork/junk mail mom and I had to go through, it would have been about five feet high), or hoarded food (literal hundreds of plastic grocery bags full of expired food I hauled out) and it just hits over and over again how much I'm resonating with everything there. Anyway, if you want to know what I'm working with, basically it's a lot like that video above, it's "clean" hoarding, but that's basically what it was like in every single room and I've been trying to go over and tackle at least some of it every day, while also helping to get the old carpet replaced, the walls painted, etc. And trying to choose furniture that's not too expensive but also doesn't look like a teenager's bedroom or like it was salvaged out of a Cleanup Week pile. And trying to figure out where to store the necessary house things, like a basic tool set and cleaning supplies. But, you guys, be proud of us, I got several baskets worth of small stuff storage put away (extra lotions, extra charging cords, etc., things you keep but don't need sitting out), we got the armchair back into the guest bedroom, I put together a hamper instead of just plopping a clothes basket on the closet floor for dirty clothes, I put all my bathroom decor together in a bin for when we get the new vanity (the current one is so old that it's basically rusted over underneath), put all the after Christmas decorations we bought this year away, put some groceries away, AND I STARTED MY SECOND LOAD OF LAUNDRY TODAY. It's small stuff but it's time-consuming and I need you all to be proud of me for keeping moving on All Of This.

[labellefleur-sauvage]

Heat Above

In the sudden uncertainty of her life, Elain Archeron seeks comfort in an unlikely source: her mate Lucien.

For Elucien Week 2023 Day 1: Mates

The specifics of Elain's visions don't exactly seem well-described in the books, so I'm interpreting her visions (and how the end of ACOSF could affect them) and their potential ties to Lucien here. I like to imagine that Elain's visions will guide her towards her mate, and I wanted to try writing something in the ACOTAR universe for my favorite pairing, so here we are!

Thank you for everyone @elucienweekofficial for organizing this event!

Rating: Explicit. Word Count: 3.9K

Read on A03

XXX

In the span of a day, both of her sisters nearly died. 

And there was nothing Elain Archeron could do to save either of them. 

It all worked out in the end, they each soothed her. Nesta triumphed over those wanting to destroy her and became a Valkyrie, a living legend and feared warrior even the Illyrians idolized. Feyre survived the birthing bed—how, exactly, no one deigned to explain to her - and introduced her son Nyx to her family, everyone weeping joyously.

Everyone was safe. Everyone was fine.

And Elain’s visions had been out of control ever since.

It was as if a momentous shift occurred, like something—or someone—had altered the preordained fates the Mother lovingly crafted for each and every Fae and set everyone a new, uncertain future.

Her visions had never been regular or clear, but now they were chaotic and overwhelming. Death, blood, war, grief, terror and interlopers, interspersed with breathtaking happiness that Elain felt with her entire being: family dinners, Solstice celebrations, walks in unknown meadows, tending a garden on a bright, green hill, and holding hands with a foreign yet familiar male with flaming red hair.

That red-haired male was a frequent guest in her visions now, for whatever reason. Nearly every day she saw a glimpse of him, sometimes alone—his handsome face wreathed in sunlight, an open window behind him, a contemplative look on his face—or with someone she quickly realized was herself, such as when she saw him kissing down, down, down her body…

Elain shut her eyes. It was just like when she had been newly turned and her visions were constant, to the point where she didn’t know what was the present and what was the future, what was real and what wasn’t.

It was all too much, yet not enough. Elain wanted to turn her brain off, to have no thoughts at all, yet she craved more, needed to know what may happen. 

She was alone, yet surrounded by people. There was no one who could help her.

Except one. 

There must be a reason he kept appearing in her visions.

Elain leapt up from her bed and hurriedly dressed. She hoped he still kept his apartment by the river.

“Oh, hello Elain,” Feyre called quietly from the couch in the living room downstairs. Rhys was on the ground next to Nyx, swooping a toy bat over his head. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a walk,” she called, gathering her shoes. 

“Would you like some company? Nyx is due for a nap, and a trip in the stroller—“

“No!” Elain yelped so loudly even Rhys raised a surprised eyebrow at her. “Er, thank you, but it’s just something I need to do by myself.”

Elain let herself out of the River House with Feyre and Rhys’s gentle murmurs behind her, then made her way into Velaris. She didn’t actually know where he stayed or if he spent his time with someone else.

No, she thought resoundingly, turning down a sleepy street lined with attractive apartments, Elain knew her mate hadn’t been with anyone since that horrible day in Hybern.

She stood in front of a clean and unassuming building. Something told her this was it. But how to get in? She was just about to knock on the front door of the building and hope someone would let her in when the door opened and she saw Lucien for the first time in months.

“Elain?”

He looked good. Handsome, clean, and put together in a deep green jacket and brown pants. Two small sections of hair were braided at his temples. 

Elain wondered if he would ever braid her hair, if she asked.

“Elain?” Lucien asked again, confusion and concern flooding his voice. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Elain said, remembering herself and why she was here. “I came to see you.”

Lucien paled. “I see. Would this be better handled inside?”

“Hm. Yes, I think that would be for the best.”

Without a word, Lucien opened the door and led her up a series of staircases to an apartment on the top floor. Like everything about Lucien, it was clean and quietly elegant and put together: soft curtains fluttered on either side of the windows thrown open wide to let the cool breeze in, and several tasteful chairs were arranged around a low table in the middle of the room. A simple kitchen was in the corner, and a closed door was on the opposite side of the room.

Lucien sighed. “Are you here to break the bond?”

Elain looked startled. Why would he assume that? 

True, Elain had been ignoring her mate for years now, too frightened to belong heart, body and soul to any one being. After Graysen, after Azriel, after her entire world upended when she was pushed into the Cauldron, Elain couldn’t bear the thought of having another supposed constant in her life turn away from her. 

But to permanently sever ties with Lucien, especially now when her visions were pointing him towards her, left an empty, hollow feeling in her stomach.

“I—no, I’m not here to break the bond,” Elain replied. Lucien let out a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “I’m here to ask you why I keep seeing you.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “Seeing me? I haven’t seen you in months.”

“No, not like that,” Elain said with a slight roll of her eyes. “I see you. Constantly. In my visions.”

Lucien raised an eyebrow. “And there must be a reason,” Elain went on. “I see you in my mind everyday, without fail, between my… other visions.” Elain winced. “But the only good visions—if that’s what they really are, and not just some type of hallucination—only feature you. And I want to know why.”

Silence greeted her. “You came to see me,” Lucien said slowly, an eyebrow still raised, “to ask me why I keep appearing in your visions?”

Elain flushed. When he said it that way…

“I thought you previously said you couldn’t control your visions. How would I have any control over something you can’t?”

Elain bit her lip. He was completely right—there really was no good reason for her to have come here, to see Lucien and demand answers for something he had nothing to do with. But some part of herself knew Lucien was connected to her sudden violent visions—why else would she have visions of him constantly, and feel the urge to see him now, if he couldn’t help her?

“I—I thought—“

“I’m sorry Elain,” Lucien said quietly. “I don’t know if I can help you.” He looked away, a pained look on his face. “Would you like me to escort you home?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “You want me to leave?”

Lucien raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I just told you I don’t know how to help you. You ignore me for months when I give you gifts and space—I imagine you can’t stand to be in my presence since I told you something you didn’t want to hear.”

Elain glared at him. “Don’t assume to know what I want.”

“You’re right. I can’t assume to know anything about you, because every time I’ve tried, you’ve ignored me like a coward,” Lucien replied coolly.

“I’m not a coward!” Elain hissed, her cheeks turning hot.

Lucien chuckled unkindly. “I bet that’s all you’ve ever been. Hiding behind your sisters, using them as shields so you don’t have to confront anything in your life that bothers you.”

Elain grit her teeth, unable to deny Lucien. Why did she think he would help her, even if he could? Lucien probably detested her, loathed her for everything she’d put him through, and she couldn’t even blame him. 

“Even if I were somehow able to help you,” Lucien went on, putting distance between the two of them, “who’s to say you’d do anything but ignore me after I somehow banished myself from your visions?” Lucien leaned against a kitchen counter, directly in front of a wide window, the morning sunlight streaming in and bathing him in light. “At least this way, I can find comfort in the fact that I’m on your mind in some capacity.”

Elain sucked in a breath. It was identical to her prior vision: Lucien, surrounded in sunlight, his red hair gleaming. His golden mechanical eye paled in comparison to the glow he gave off now. The anger and frustration she felt for the male in front of her faded away. 

If this vision was true, what about the rest of them? Danger and sadness, but also eventual joy and happiness. Could one be had without the other? Was it worth risking everything to find out?

“You’ve been so cold to me for so long,” Lucien went on, ignoring how Elain was looking at him. “You ignored me, tossed me aside—“

“You’re my mate,” Elain breathed, and everything suddenly clicked in her mind. Yes, it was inevitable that there would be death and grief and bone crushing sadness in her life. They had been ever present in her life before she was turned, when she was human, and those emotions would be with her, in some way, shape or form, in her current life. The only difference was that now she had someone to weather the storm with her, and make her remember that happiness was always worth the sadness.

“What did you say?” Lucien asked quietly, looking at her.

“You’re my mate.” The more she said it, the better it felt, settling in her body and cementing her to the present. “You’re my mate. There’s only you.”

Lucien stared at her. The only sound in the room was his mechanical eye, ticking and moving faster than Elain could track. 

“Don’t say things you don’t understand,” Lucien said quietly, staring at the ground. “To say that to me, it’s, it’s…”

“Admitting what we both knew and have been avoiding?”

Lucien took a deep, steadying breath. “How do I know this is real?” Lucien jerked his head to look at Elain. His eye was wide and Elain could hear the fast beating of his heart. “How can I tell if this is what you want?”

Elain cocked her head, staring at the open vulnerability sketched on her mate’s handsome face. “Because I’ve seen my future. I thought it couldn’t be real, that some things must be wrong, but…”

“But? But what?”

“They’re all real,” Elain said quietly. “Horrible, horrible, things, coming soon and also later, but great things as well. Happiness, a family—all with you.”

Lucien’s eye widened. “You’ve seen that? Us? Together?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not saying this because of what you’ve seen? You still have a choice in your future.”

She did, and her own heart sped up to match Lucien’s at the tenderness in his tone. Even now, he wanted Elain to have a choice, and wanted Elain to choose him.

“I think my visions have been urging me towards you for a long time. They know what I’ve been too afraid to admit.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I could be happy with you. That I will be happy with you.”

Lucien swallowed but didn’t move towards her, a wary look on his face. From what she’d heard about her mate from Feyre and Rhys, Lucien was never short on words, but his silence hung over their heads in the room.

Elain had already taken the first metaphorical step towards healing her relationship with Lucien—what were a few physical steps to convince him of her words?

Walking towards Lucien like he was a frightened animal, Elain stopped right in front of him. His heart was still beating fast—nerves, excitement, anticipation, she couldn’t be sure. 

“I still hear your heart.” Elain took one of Lucien’s large hands in hers—he was so warm—and held it against her chest, over her own stuttering heart. “Do you hear mine?”

Lucien gasped, his eye wide and mouth open as if he could finally hear the constant drumming of his mate’s heart, like Elain had heard ever since she emerged from the Cauldron. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she swore she saw some type of shimmering cord wrap around Lucien’s hand from where it connected with her chest and traveled along his arm—

Elain lost sight of the cord entwining them together when Lucien leaned down and kissed her, consuming her mind, body and soul. 

It was blissfully silent in her mind for just a moment before a wave of images flashed before her eyelids, one after another after another, too fast for her to comprehend. It was like a lifetime’s worth of visions being crammed into the space of a few seconds and Elain gasped, overwhelmed with everything—

“Elain, what’s wrong? Breath, breath for me.”

And just as soon as they appeared, her visions fled at the first touch of Lucien’s touch, one hand on the back of her head, another on her lower back and rubbing soothing circles against her with his thumb.

“There, that’s better.” Lucien continued comforting her, and Elain realized what a fool she’d been the past years, to deny herself the sheer solace her mate provided her with just a few soft words and touches. “Was that…?”

“Yes.” Elain worked to steady her breathing. “I saw everything.”

Lucien paled. “Everything?”

Elain nodded, staring up at him. “We’ll travel… somewhere together. And Vassa will be wreathed in a crown of flame and feathers.”

“Elain—“

“Your father will rise to his full glory—”

“Beron?”

“No, the other one,” Elain snapped, massaging her temples. If only he could see. “And you’ll take your place next to him.”

“Other one? What are you—?”

“The man at the lake will fall and his birds released into the wind, but not without great cost.”

Lucien stared at Elain aghast.

“The Dread Trove will be restored, with the help of visitors from worlds so close to ours, but separated by the thinnest of veils.”

“Elain—“

“But we’ll be happy together, in the land of perpetual sun.”

“We will?”

“Yes, the two of us. You glow in the future. And we’ll have children—I’m not sure how many, at least two—“

Lucien’s lips stopped any more words from leaving her mouth. “Elain,” he chuckled against her, his lips kissing the corners of her mouth. “Let’s leave some things as a surprise, hm?”

“But what about—umph!”

Lucien’s lips slotted against her own again, his hands cradling her jaw, and Elain let her train of thought taper off. 

“We don’t need to worry about any of that now,” he whispered. “Let your mate take care of you, hm?”

Elain wanted to argue, that they absolutely should worry about what she had just witnessed, but then Lucien was kissing her again. His big hands trailed down her waist, then over her hips and behind her to cup her bottom. Whatever would come to pass would come—not admitting to her feelings and spending time with Lucien wouldn’t change that. 

So Elain twisted her hand in Lucien’s shirt and nipped at his lips and smiled in triumph when she felt him gasp against her. Her victory was short-lived: with one graceful swoop, Lucien carried her in his arms towards the closed door in his apartment.

As she suspected, it was a bedroom. Elain didn’t have time to study the room in detail, as Lucien tossed her on the bed then followed after her, climbing on top of her and resuming his heated kisses.  

“Is this alright?” he whispered, his lips trailing down her jaw, throat and collarbone.

“Yes!” she gasped as his lips skimmed her upper chest. She was on fire, and knew Lucien would only stoke the flames of her desire the more he touched her. “Off, off—!”

Together, they wrestled her dress off and soon, Elain was bare in front of her mate on his bed. Before, she might have felt self conscious—she’d only been with Graysen, and that was in a dark room—but she had no reason to be embarrassed, not when Lucien was staring at her like his world had just been shattered and made new in the span of an afternoon.

“Elain,” he croaked, glancing at her body before settling on her bright face. “You’re the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”

Elain smiled, her chest warm and beating, before Lucien was on top of her again, his lips against hers. She threaded her hands through his long hair and moved her hands over his neck, his back, his chest, anywhere that she could, just to feel more of his body. 

Lucien moved down her body, his lips licking and pecking at her sensitive breasts, her bellybutton—Cauldron, she had seen this too—before settling between her legs.

“Yes?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. Still checking on her, making sure she wanted this, wanted him. Lucien was breathing heavily, his eye darting to the curls between her legs and her heated face. He swallowed, like he was barely holding onto his restraint.

Elain wasn’t faring any better. “Yes,” she responded desperately, canting her hips towards him. Lucien needed no further persuasion: gripping her inner thighs, he wrenched her thighs apart and lowered himself between them.

The first, hot press of his tongue against her folds had Elain arching her back against his bed. The next swipe of his tongue against her clit made her grab Lucien’s head and keep him right where she wanted him. 

Lucien didn’t seem to mind; groaning into her cunt, Lucien kept licking and sucking, gradually inserting one, then another thick finger inside her tight channel and thrusting. Elain moaned her approval, too delirious with pleasure to form words. 

After nearly no time at all, Lucien crooked his fingers a certain way inside her, his tongue flicking her clit and his eye intense on her face, and Elain was coming. It was all consuming, but immediately her body craved more, more, more.

“Lucien!” Elain gasped, pushing his head away from between her legs, where he had been gently lapping at her swollen bud. “I need you!”

Lucien sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily but studying Elain. “You already have me, Elain.”

Elain felt her heart twist, knowing he’d given himself to her the day she crawled out of the cauldron and the mating bond snapped. But although Lucien had long ago given himself to her, Elain hadn’t yet done the same for him. She needed to reassure her mate that she wanted him.

Silently, Elain rose from the bed and helped Lucien discard his clothes. The more and more golden-brown skin he revealed to her, the warmer Elain felt; whether the heat was coming from Lucien or herself, she couldn’t be sure. 

Soon, he was naked, and Lucien’s glorious body was on display. Elain felt a sudden rush of pride: this strong, clever, handsome male was all hers, and no one else’s.

“Have you…?” Lucien began when he was over her once again, the tip of his cock brushing her folds.

“Yes,” Elain responded, shifting her hips to get comfortable. He was so close to where she needed him.

“Are you sure—“

Elain stopped his question with her lips, soft and sweet, against his. Lucien was on his elbows above her, his face inches from her own. Silently, she moved her hand over the scars on his face and traced them gently, then leaned up to kiss them lovingly. 

Shivering, Lucien pressed against her, working himself inside her tight channel. He went slowly, letting her adjust, until finally he bottomed out inside her. 

Elain felt full. Not just from Lucien’s length, but from it all meant for her: having someone with her, always, to defend her, protect her, care for her, and support her. She belonged to someone, and someone belonged to her. She could cry from how happy she felt. 

And as Lucien finally shifted his hips and began moving, his body and his heat above and within her, Elain felt grounded for the first time since she was turned. Her mind quieted, no longer tormenting her with what would happen, but blessedly blank, letting her focus on being with her mate. 

Elain was thankful; she didn’t want to miss any of what she was experiencing. Lucien was thick inside her, moving slowly but steadily. He was being so polite, exactly what she expected from the gentleman Elain knew Lucien was.

But Elain was selfish, especially now, and she wanted more.

“I need—“ Elain gasped, unsure how to communicate what she wanted.

Like Lucien could read her mind, he shifted one of her legs up against his hip and thrust hard inside her. Stars exploded behind her eyelids and Elain could hear the smirk in Lucien’s voice. “Is that what you needed?”

“Yes!” Elain moaned as Lucien leaned back on his knees, her leg still propped up against his body. 

“What else do you need, Elain?” Lucien crooned softly above her, increasing his pace inside her. He swiped a thumb over her clit.

“Yes, Lucien, more,” Elain begged quietly, quickly approaching her peak.  

“Ask nicely,” Lucien grunted. He was fucking into her hard now, hilting his cock fully inside her. Sweat rolled down his neck and chest. “Tell me what you need.”

“Keep touching me and stay with me, please.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part. After everything they’d been through, it was too much to ask of him. Elain expected Lucien to freeze, but it only seemed to spur him on.

“Anything. Anything you want,” Lucien groaned, his thumb furiously circling her clit and like an explosion, Elain came. It was like nothing she’d felt before; indescribable pleasure raced up and down her spine, pleasure that came from not just Lucien touching her, but the knowledge that he was hers, and she was his.

Elain was dimly aware of Lucien cursing to himself before he pressed his length inside her and came, collapsing on top of her as his orgasm petered out. He rolled them over so Elain was on his chest.

If Elain thought his heartbeat was loud before, it was nothing compared to the explosive drumming now. It soothed her, though, and Elain felt her eyes drift close after only a few moments.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien whispered against her temple later that afternoon after they had woken up for a second round of lovemaking. “For those horrible things I called you earlier. That wasn’t fair of me.”

“But they were true, as much as it hurts to admit it.”

“But that doesn’t mean I needed to say them.”

Elain sighed into Lucien’s chest and twined her legs with his under the thin sheet on his bed. “If you hadn’t said them, I’m not sure we would have ended up here, right now.”

“But surely you saw this coming.” Elain could hear the grin on his face. “Surely one of your visions—“

“My visions have told me quite a bit about the two of us,” Elain admitted, her cheeks red. “But didn’t you say earlier that some things should be a surprise?”

Lucien dropped a kiss to her nose, and Elain felt his heat suffuse her entire body with that one peck. “I did say that. I may not be terribly fond of them, but if they all concern you, then I’ll gladly let each day with you be a surprise.”

[camlannpod]

Character Playlist: Peredur Green

Happy off-week! We'll all pretend this one was on time. If you're new, hi! Since Camlann releases every two weeks, on the off weeks I'm posting these breakdowns of the character playlists. You can find Morgan's here and Dai's here.

This week it's time for our favourite knight, Peredur!

Brother by The Brilliance

When I look into the face Of my enemy I see my brother I see my brother

Perry's big problem is that they're a knight. And they love the other knights. They feel a siblinghood with them which is incredibly hard for them to ignore. The knights are their family, their home, their story - the place they're meant to be. But it's a family that won't accept them as they are. Perry so badly wants the knights to change their mind.

2. Battle Cry by The Family Crest

Oh, my love, my heart don't cry We were born to die But for this moment, for all time Oh, I will fight for you I will die for you

Perry's a knight! They very much see it as their duty to fight and die to protect the people they love. Right now, that especially means Morgan and Dai, who they've been travelling with since their escape from the Knights. Perry will risk life and limb to keep them safe. (This song is also about Dai. A lot of these songs are about how Perry feels about Dai)

3. Cypress Queen by The Last Bison

On and over the northwest river We go trusting in the Cypress Queen She'll keep us afloat We retreat into our fortress gold To a sanctuary in the trees That i call home

I'm 90% sure this song is about a boat? But I took it literally - this is Perry's feelings about Guinevere, or Shújūn - a woman who they certainly do not trust for us, but to whom they are drawn by their story and with whom they, deep down, have a lot of sympathy. Perry knows exactly what it's like to have a major role in someone else's narrative.

4. See You Through My Eyes by The Head and The Heart

Until you learn to love yourself The door is locked to someone else I'm just as damaged as you are

Perry is just as traumatised by the apocalypse as everyone else, they're just better at hiding it. In general their approach toward their emotions is to pack them up tightly in a box and pretend they're not happening, which is obviously wildly unhealthy. Perry spends so much of their time inspired by and loving their friends, especially Morgan and Dai, but they never open up when they need to and trust them with the more 'difficult' parts of themself.

5. Carry by Branches

I'm feeling like Moses and my arms are getting heavy Brother, would you come and lift them up for me?

Perry has been single handedly carrying Morgan and Dai through the apocalypse. They would never admit it, but this is exhausting, and they desperately need a break. Unfortunately for them, they live in a riddle-twisted landscape full of magic and monsters, so they can never truly relax. They need to stop and they can't, and sometimes they think hey, if they lost the next battle at least they wouldn't have to get up and fight another one.

6. House a Habit by We Are The Guests

Let's make this house a habit Let's make the sun shine

Partly because Perry is Permanently Exhausted, they very badly want to turn the cottage into a real, meaningful home base that feels safe. Perry has always been the kind of person to put down roots, and the last six months of trekking back and forth across Britain has really worn them down. They desperately want this place to be a real home.

7. Selkie-Boy by Spell Songs, Julie Fowlis

Go now, Selkie-Boy, swim from the shore Rinse your ears clean of human chatter And empty your bones of heather and moor And your mind of human matter

Honestly, Dai fascinates Perry. He is completely unlike them in almost every way and they find that beautiful and addictive. They've always felt that there was something ethereal about him and his ability to find hope and love in even the darkest places. Perry would follow Dai anywhere.

8. Church Key by Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Have you gone farther looking in the dark For a fire that can keep you warm Wander off the trail, lose track of all the details Till we make it to our door, where we can sleep

Oh Perry wants answers. The Cataclysm is an apocalypse of contradictions and mysteries and Perry so very badly wants to untangle the cat's cradle of stories in which they are caught. They are also exactly the kind of obsessive academic who will wear themself thin looking for the information they seek. Eventually, they just need to rest.

9. We Will All Be Changed by Seryn

We can write with ink and pen But we will sew with seeds instead Starting with words we've said And we will all be changed

The song on every main character playlist! For Perry, the apocalypse is a lesson in moving from theory to applied learning - from writing about flowers to planting seeds in the soil. It's fieldwork! In more ways than one, and in more ways than one, it's good for them, despite everything.

[the-pact-diaries]

Of Hungry Magic & Cursed Furniture Yet to Haunt Us

I’ve been thinking at floorplans for two hours like they’re arcane scrolls. Plotting. Sketching. Whispering to the house.

Grandmother’s furniture isn’t here yet, but I feel it looming already, like a storm just past the hills. Five cursed pieces:

- a bed split in half (NO, nothing bad happened, the bed was just too big for my guest room),

- two greenish armchairs,

- a greener stone table,

- and another smaller stone table designed specifically to rest your feet while contemplating your life choices.

The house knows.

The walls are humming. The shadows are a little too interested in where I stand. Berith says I should let the furniture decide where it wants to go.

I told him if I do that, we’ll all be sleeping on the ceiling by next week.

Somewhere above me, I hear Kezef fly screeching down the halls, wings of shadows glittering like black mirrors, chased by the house imp with a charred spoon. They're inspecting the surge in ambient energy like unpaid electricians with too much power and no license.

Every time they pass overhead, the chandelier hiccups.

Plotting the sacred geography of new-old furniture takes energy.

So I follow the pull to the kitchen. I'm always hungry -

“And lo, in the hallowed seat of Baalzebul, enthronéd upon this earthly stead, the Mistress of the House shall ne’er be left to starve. For where His shadow passeth, the board is made full, and famine becometh but a myth!

So be it etched: none within these walls shall want, whilst desire yet burneth and the coals remember His name!” I spoke.

-

“And lo, let it be writ also: Where the Mistress walketh, the cupboards open of their own accord, and even spirits pause their unrest to set the kettle to boil. A house that feedeth its Mistress is thrice-bound in favour - once by fire, once by pact, and once by appetite!” Berith added ceremonially.

(Also: it is ‘be·com·eth,’ not ‘be-cometh.’ We do not bark our verbs like mongrels.)

He typed it out quickly.

-

The door, always open, always welcoming. It smells like burnt pizza and ambition rising up in coffee.

Inside:

R. is stirring honey into his cup, humming like he’s bottling secrets.

G. is perched on the windowsill, boots still muddy from somewhere he won’t explain, eating crackers meant for guests.

J. has already made fresh coffee. For me. He doesn’t say a word, just pushes the cup toward me and watches.

I drop my notebook on the table. “Alright,” I say. “We need to plan.”

“Is this about the green ghost table?” R. asks.

“No,” I lie. “Yes.”

“Where do you want it?” G. asks.

“I have no idea. Probably on the new floor. The attic,” I say, then immediately doubt myself. It’s heavy.

We brainstorm between bites of chocolate croissants. The room feels charged with anticipation. That’s how it should be.

Out in the hallway, I hear the unmistakable cadence of Berith and W.-J. debating in Old Occult English, their new hobby.

The Gossip Djinn holds his hands over his ears beside J., as if to confirm - yes, everyone here is truly insane. J. ignores him.

W.-J.:

“Verily, Duke, thou canst not dismiss the stone table's purpose. I intend to bind it into the lunar rites next full moon. The attic shall serve as the sanctum.”

Berith:

“Thou speakest of rituals again. Hast thou reinforced the beams? That table weigheth more than the ancestral tomb wherein I inscribed the names of every fool who dwelleth under this roof.”

W.-J.:

“I shall perform the Weightless Circle. Light as shadow, steady as sin. The table will obey.”

Berith:

“If it falleth through the ceiling, I shall bind thee to clean the debris with thine own tongue.”

W.-J.:

“Then I shall enchant the debris to taste of victory and figs.”

By the time the shadows begin to stretch long across the windowsill and the biscuits have turned into crumbs of strategy, Lady F. arrives, heels precise, eyes calculating, wearing calm like it’s armor. Glasya-Labolas follows behind her, wolfish grin in place, trailing cigar smoke and murder thoughts.

They join the evening coffee circle without a word. Just a nod, a glance, a rearranging of reality.

No one asks what they’re here for. We all feel it.

The house is shifting.

-

Until then, feed your magic, witch. Hungry spells are dangerous ones.

-D. featuring B.

[lannaloveit]

Action and Reaction 🔥❤️

Part 2 ⬇️

The night ends with Hyunjin returning home thoughtful, Han taking an interest in Ágata and Y/N sleeping in the guest room of Cris's house, since she offered to help clean up the mess.

The girl wakes up to a message from Han: "Look, I don't know what happened last night, but I wanted to know if you're okay." She then replies with: "Good morning Hanji, I was fine, I just found it strange to see you "moving on", spending all this time with you made me think about our past." "I understand perfectly Y/Nnie, but I need to move on, I'm tired of running after you, it was making me feel bad, I'm happy for you and Hyunjin, he seems perfect for you," Han adds.

As the days went by, she really realized that every action has a reaction, that if she does something, something will react. Y/N liked Han but was in love with Hyunjin.

Or maybe not?

She felt confused.

Maybe she did see something in Hanji, he was so similar to her, so fun, funny and it seemed like they shared the same neurons.

She used to say that he was "my alarm clock" the one that makes her wake up every day, her "reason".

Hyunjin arrived so suddenly, it was good, energizing, but as the days went by that gave way.

"You seem sad" Cris said

"I'm not, just a little confused with myself, I feel like I lost Henri and I didn't want that." "Tell me what you want from him, do you want him? Or do you want to risk Hyunjin? I've known you since you were a child, Y/Nnie, and I know that in order for you to really like and want to be with someone, you have to know them for a long time. Do you know why you were sad about his kiss with Agata? Because you trust him, because you wanted him. Think again, maybe Hyunjin only showed up to show you who you really want, because the idea of being away from him scares you. - Cris She hugs Cris and cries "Hyunjin will think I'm an idiot." "No, you just have to talk to him, and if he does, that's his problem, you have to fix things with your best friend now." "Cris, you know that you're actually my best friend, right?" Cris kisses her head and smiles.

Hanji found himself thinking about the damned “truth or dare” kiss. He *wanted* to kiss the prettiest girl in his opinion. Y/N was the prettiest girl, but he simply kissed Ágata because she was the most desired among the boys and he was afraid of what Hyunjin would do. After all, this was before he knew that Ágata was dating a college student who picked her up every day on his motorcycle after school. He felt ridiculous for thinking that she would give him a chance. But what can we expect from a girl who shows up with a different boy every week?

°

Y/N spends recess with Han and he tells her about Ágata. Honestly, Y/N knew the girl’s nature and knew that she would be bad for anyone who got involved with her. Cris comes up to them and says:

“Y/N, baby, we need to talk.” He looks serious.

“What happened?”

“*Hyunjin,* it was all a bet.

“What?” Han answers.

“I was in the bathroom and I heard him talking to Seungmin at the door about whether Hyunjin would really be able to “get Y/N” and saying that it would be easy because you “fell for his trap.” To top it off, Seungmin said that he should try too because you seem to be acting like a saint, but behind his back you were hooking up with Hanji and trying to deceive Hyunjin, so one more wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They saw that I heard because when I left I threw some truths in both of their faces. Seungmin tried to punch me, but I was faster and punched him in the face, pushed them both away and left.”

“My God…I always had a bad feeling about Hyunjin…it’s a shame I was right.”

“I’m going to kill those idiots.” - Han

“Guys, you better calm down, it’s not worth wasting your time with them, I’ve already taken care of this.”

“I need to talk to Hyunjin” -Alanna

“Be careful, pretty” -Hanji

Y/N finds Hyunjin standing at the door of their classroom

“Hi, honey” -hyunjin

“Don’t call me that, idiot”

“Calm down, why are you like this? Are you nervous because of your friend Cris? Didn’t he fuck you today?”

“Fuck you!” Y/N ends up slapping Hyunjin hard in the face, who freezes there after realizing that everyone saw it. Including the girls he picks up. How could they trust him after that? They even *filmed* it.

Cris and Han get the girl out of there before the confusion gets worse and the three of them go to the cafeteria since the class was free.

“Y/N, I don’t want to see you get into this kind of trouble anymore, I know he deserved it but you could have gotten hurt, if you need anything call me and I’ll fix it” -Cris

“Honestly, you were amazing, princess” -Hanji

Cris gives Hanji a disappointed look

“What’s wrong? I’m trying to lighten the mood” -Han

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t let him talk to me like that, I know I don’t have many female friends but that doesn’t mean I’m a bitch who sits with every boy I see, especially because the only sluts here are Ágata and Hyunjin.”

“I agree, beautiful, but it’s true, when you need it, call one of us” -Han

°

Y/N goes home with Hannie and they decide to watch a movie, but the girl feels so overwhelmed.

They go to the kitchen to make a snack and she starts to cry

"Kitty, are you crying?"

He hugs her and she rests her head on his shoulder while he strokes her back

"And is this crying from happiness or sadness?"

"It’s just that…everything has been so “heavy” lately, there’s a lot going on and I didn’t expect this to happen so I felt horrible with each passing moment. I can’t explain it, I thought he could be a light but in fact he became the darkness that I run away from so much now, I’m sure he’ll try to destroy my image. I bet on a loser dog and realized that I was the loser" - Y/N

"Think about what makes you want to stay, not what makes you want to leave, everyone in that school knows what he did, everyone knows he lost and anyone who disagrees is a loser like him." -Han

"I discovered a new galaxy when I met you, I love you so much." -Y/N

"- I always loved you my love, I always knew it was you, I was always crazy about you" -Han

"- crazy?"

"- yes, crazy, completely crazy" -Han

He grabs her waist and lifts her chin delicately with his finger and kisses her slowly, passionately

She thought: “Hanji, how hypnotizing you were.”

-" Thank you for not give up on me." -Han

[cecexwrites]

Prompt: Evie & Finn, after Alex is born

Sleepless nights

TW: Talk of a dead parent

In which a very tired Evie and Finn navigate life after the birth of their son

The month before Evie was due, Finn had been staying in one of the guest rooms at the Archibald home. It was actually pretty nice, having people around. He was used to his own apartment, empty except for Paula, who came in every morning to make him breakfast and pack his lunch. At the Archibald house, mornings meant waking up to chaos. To Evie in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Cordelia and Theo (And now Finn even though he insisted she didn't need to) Cordelia would be set up in her hair chair loudly babbling to her mother, her bib somehow already covered in some kind of pureed mess. 

Turned out basically moving in a month early was a good idea as two weeks before the due date, Alexander Rockwell decided to make his appearance. At 2 in the morning, screaming bloody murder. 

Finn truly didn't understand what people meant when they said the beauty of childbirth. he was there for every second of Alex's birth and it was actually a nightmare right out of a sci-fi movie. The only thing he came out of that experience thinking was holy shit Evie was strong for that. But after they took Alex and got him all cleaned up and laid him in Finn's arms- that was when the switch flipped, when it went from being about him and Evie to being about Alex. 

He wasn't a large baby, just a touch below 7 pounds. He looked a lot like Finn remembered Cordelia looking like with the button nose and rose bud lips. His head was a little... coned but he was assured that was just from the birth and it would even out on it's own. 

And it had. Today was officially the day that Alex was meant to actually come and he'd been home for a little over a week. His head was normal shaped now and he'd gained a little bit of weight. 

And, unfortunately for them, he took after his father in that he was a night owl. 

"You know you could just pump and I'd deal with night feedings." Finn commented to Evie as she unbuttoned the top of her pajamas. He held the crying newborn out to her and Evie carefully took him, adjusted Alex in her arms until he could comfortably latch on and drink. 

"I could, but I like this." Evie claimed around a yawn. The first time around Alex hadn't seen any of this, the late nights, the actual work of having a child. He'd seen Evie looking as perfect as ever not a hair out of place. This- with her hair and pajamas a rumpled mess from having just woken up, no make up, the slight dark circles under her eyes as their son got his midnight snack... this was more real and she had never looked more gorgeous. 

"You're staring." She accused.

"You're sexy." He shrugged, unbothered. Evie scoffed. 

"I'm a mess. I didn't think two would be that much harder than one but..." She trailed off. Two babies were not just two babies. They felt like the equivalent to an army of babies. Finn and Theo were a lot of help but they both worked during the day. With Cordelia she was able to get help from Tinsley but Tinsley was going to pop any moment with her own baby. She was doing okay but it was exhausting. 

"They're a lot of work, and you're still sexy as fuck." He replied, kneeling down on the floor by the glider that Evie used when feeding the kids. "we could go on a vacation, wait until Alex is a couple months then the five of us-"

"Absolutely not." Evie laughed. "Getting the two of them prepared and out of the house for brunch is a nightmare, a whole trip? Nope, not until he's ready for food other than what I make, at least. but hopefully before Cordelia starts properly walking." She was only crawling at this point and she was still difficult to keep up with. 

"Fine Fine, but you deserve some time to yourself, Theo and I can take the kids and you can do- whatever you want, spa day, shopping, staying at home and sleeping for five years." Finn had never been much of a sleeper but somehow lack of sleep from taking care of kids hit different, in a bad way. 

"That one I can agree to." Evie nodded. "As long as you promise to call me if anything happens, Anything." She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"Anything." He agreed just as Alex released, Finn pushed himself up from his spot on the ground and took the baby from her. As she cleaned up and rebuttoned her top, he burped the boy and changed his diaper. 

Finn was getting Alex back into his footie pajamas when two thin arms wrapped around his middle. 

"You're good at this." Evie noted, her head resting on his back. "Better than I expected really. I kind of thought... we'd have him and you'd go back home." 

Finn hesitated, unsure if he should admit to anything, but hell, it was one am, he was bone tired and Alex was so young he couldn't understand what was being said. 

"It's more for you than him." 

"What?" He could feel Evie behind him still, every time her head moved against his back it felt like a reassurance. 

"If I'd had him with literally anyone but you, I wouldn't be this hands on. I do it for you. I love Alex, I love him with everything I have but all of this? This is because I care about you. I'd have hired a nanny or someone to help anyone else." He had offered to pay for help with Alex and Cordelia during the day but Evie had turned him down, preferring to take care of the two of them on her own as much as she possibly could. 

"Well, regardless, I'm glad to have you here. and I'm sure in the future you will realize how important this was for both you and our son." Fuck Finn loved to hear that 'Our son'. Something about it just- hit right. 

Finn's father had died before Alex was born, two days before it actually, he had left the family business to Finn and Finn realized the day the will had been read that it didn't matter. The family business didn't matter nearly as much as raising Alex to be a good, happy and healthy kid. Yeah having the legacy was good and he liked that his son would never want for anything, but he wanted to be a good father. The best he could be. 

He handed Alex over to Evie so she could lay him down in the crib. 

"Get some sleep, we'll be back here in a couple hours." Evie yawned, stretching her arms up over her head. 

"Night, Evie." Finn watched as she padded out of the room down the hall to the bedroom she shared with Theo. Finn looked back at the crib where Alex hadn't yet fallen back to sleep. The baby laid there, staring up at the mobile that Nico's wife Lorelei had made for him. Finn walked back over and leaned against the side, the noise catching Alex's attention. 

"Goodnight Son, let your mom get a couple extra hours, huh?" He requested, Alex let out a little sound, which Finn decided was him agreeing. "That's my boy."