#and she has no intention of reaching out to me or even opening my message including my apology

[bxdtime-ceai]

,

[theladybrownstarot]

Pick-A-Card : What does your feminine side wants you to know ? (Collab : @tarot-by-e11e♡)

☪︎ Here's my masterlist for more !

☪︎ Make sure you like/reblogg/follow/Comment for more pacs like these !

Pile 1. Pile 2.

Pile 3. Pile 4.

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Pile 1 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

cards pulled out : 10 of wands rx, 8 of swords rx and The sun .

☪︎ You people are literally stressed out and burdened with a lot of things that can be felt through the reading . Are you people having teeth pain out of stress because i can feel that . Your feminine side says that stop for second leave others and prioritize your mental and physical well-being ! take proper sleep do not over-do anything because there's always a limit . Your feminine side says even though you got lot of potential inside you but still take how much you can do.

☪︎ Next , some of you might be going through some legal problems and if not then you are full of unecessary thoughts which needs to filtered out seriously otherwise you are going to face lot of problems. Doing work out fear , insecurity or any other negative emotion is not gonna help you out . You might be facing some kind of injustice and i really feel that your feminine side says that you are not taking any proper action against it this tells me the need to have proper boundary for yourselves .

☪︎ last but not the least , your feminine side says that she is going to beat the shit out of you if you cannot enjoy and let yourselves get drowned in that sadistic pool of thoughts and actions ! let yourself be happy and really bring out that child inside you that craves to go out and do whatever it wants , be positive your world is not going to end .

˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖

Pile 2 . [@tarot-by-e11e]

Thank you so much for being here ♡ @e11e27

Cards pulled out : 2 of Cups, 8 of Coins reversed, Temperance, 7 of Swords, 3 of Swords, Queen of Wands, Hierophant, Knight of Wands, Judgement.

☪︎ The time in my clock is 1:01 pm as I sat down by my window enjoying the cool summer rain, so that I can interpret for my dear pile 2.

☪︎ Angel number 101 shares an undeniable news about growth, progress and new beginnings. There is this welcoming message of growth and collaboration with your feminine side. This makes me feel like my pile 2 are either: finally taking baby steps in wanting to lean more into your feminine side OR you've reached a certain point of burn out, that you feel called to want to learn how to graciously accept the help from the universe and your guides.

☪︎ With the 2 of Cups, there's this gentle whisper of unity and mutual respect for your feminine side. It would seem that pile 2 might have "girl-bossed" a little too hard this past few weeks/months, so much so that you’d rather push your body to the point of exhaustion than actively allowing yourself to rest and recuperate. There's also this air of hypervigilance caused by the lack of genuine support and healthy role models growing up.

☪︎ More like, Pile 2 was surrounded by who they promised they will never want to become. With the first card alone, the message your feminine side wants to tell you: Let yourself be open to others again.

☪︎ It seems that Pile 2 had experience betrayals and has been in survival mode to God knows how long. To be so disregulated that you feel guilty for even purchasing skincare, even if you are not financially struggling anymore, is quite a heartbreaking situation to be in. Your feminine side is telling you: "Self - Care = Self - Love", so pile 2 can be the type of person that struggles to be okay with putting themselves first. It seems this pile is for my people pleasers.

☪︎ The songs, "You don't know" by Katelyn Tarver popped in my head. Particularly the lines, "I know you got the best intentions, just trying to find the right words to say..."; this line makes me feel like a line you want to tell anyone who wants to help you out. In this case, this is a song you dedicate to your own feminine side. But here's the thing sweetie, your feminine side DOES KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE YOU...

☪︎ Your feminine side, as much as they want to help you out, they can't seem to outscream your insecurities and troubles away. Your feminine side is soft spoken yet firm with their love for you. Your feminine side wants you to know they'll always be here for you, they're just waiting for you to sit quietly in your feelings and take the time to hear them out. They're always ready to help, they're just waiting on your signal. And you choosing this pile, your feminine side is welcoming you with open arms, with them, you are allowed to safely get vulnerable, without judgement or shame. They're always ready to welcome you back into helping you feel like *you* again.

☪︎ So first thing your feminine side wants to tell you is: "Welcome back home".

☪︎ With 8 of Coins reversed, your feminine side wants you to forgive yourself for only taking the time to only want to hear what they have to tell you. It's okay, you're safe with your feminine side. Remember, no judgement or shame will ever come from them.

☪︎ With how much you have on your plate in your life right now Pile 2, having debts and bills to pay, responsibilities piling up higher than your bookshelves, alot of people depend on you for everything, even on things that they can easily deal with themselves, yet they actively decided to pass their burdens to you. Seeing as your attention, focus and efforts are needed elsewhere, it's okay that you only felt the need to sit down to what they have to tell you.

☪︎ The more I interpret for pile 2, the more I can imagine that this pile is for the chronic workaholic people pleasers, it also has the vibe of the sole provider and/or oldest sibling energy. The heavy feeling of burn out is so prevalent in this pile, so much so that you tend to be the type to drown in work while your friends and family barely got a chance to spend time with you.

☪︎ Just know, they love you and miss you so much. They do appreciate your efforts to keeping a roof over everyone's heads and food on the table, but you tend to forget that you deserve to be taken cared for too. This is a strong message from your feminine side, let others show how much they can take care of you. Let others into your life. Learn to let love in again in your life again. Betrayals in any shape or form had closed the gates of your heart, to the point of self-imposed isolation, guised as working hard to provide. It seems that pile 2 overworks to hide their pain. It's like, "Working more means less time to feel".

☪︎ With Temperance, your feminine side suggests you start reassessing your current lifestyle and curate your daily routines to cultivate a "healthy work life balance". I can already feel some of pile 2 are rolling their eyes back so far inside that they can see their brain cells barely surviving from fatigue. And yes, I'm also lovingly call out those of you who leaned back as you begrudgingly "ugggggggggghhhh..." into surrender.

☪︎ Definitely my burn out overwhelmed workaholic people pleasers pile. You're so conditioned to always Go, go, go to the next task before letting yourself catch your breath. My dear, unless your line of work is in ER surgery, you allowing yourself to rest won't lead to someone's demise. So if you work in the medical field pile 2, your feminine side is way more stricter with you about work-life balance. I heard the words "It's non negotiable at this point". So pile 2, please, for the love of rainbows, cookies and butterflies, please curate your daily routines into a healthy work-life balance.

☪︎ With 7 of swords, your feminine side is asking you to keep quiet about your plans for self-love and self-care. This was a rather odd card to show up but with the multiple instances of me mentioning betrayal with the previous cards, it seems pile 2 is surrounded by people who benefit from your lack of boundaries. That's actually the kind of betrayals you've consistently dealt with. People taking your kindness and generosity for weakness, as if it's an invitation to openly abuse your giving heart. Oh no dear pile 2, I'm so sorry you are surrounded by people who can't stand you stepping into your power.

☪︎ This message feels rather severe but your feminine side is asking you to keep your happiness and achievements under wraps and offline. Don't post anything celebratory, it seems that evil eye and ill wishes from jealous and insecure coworkers and/or family members tends be your usual cause of bad luck. So with that, cleanse and establish healthy boundaries with people who have proven that they have no intention of wishing you well. Keep those kind of people out of your life. Take that message in any shape or form that you feel called to interpret it as.

☪︎ Your feminine side urges you to let yourself be nurtured again. You don't have to always be assertive; you don't have to also be the one that leads. You are allowed and you deserve to receive. So let yourself be on the receiving of your friends and loved one's care.

˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚☽◯☾˚₊‧⁺˖

Pile 3 . [@tarot-by-e11e]

Thank you so much for being here @e11e27 ♡

Cards pulled out : High Priestess, Ace of Swords, 4 of Wands, King of Cups, 4 of Swords, Strength, 6 of Coins

𐙚 My dearest pile 3, right off the bat, this feels like the “Stepping into your power” pile.

☪︎ Starting with the High Priestess, this talks about listening to your intuition, leaning more onto your spiritual practices, and, in this specific question, leaning more into listening to your feminine side. I feel called to share a little way to discern the difference between intuition, anxiety, and wishful thinking.

☪︎ Wishful thinking feels self-gratifying and short-lived, and leans more toward satisfying an urge/itch in the moment; like having a quick dopamine fix from doomscrolling. It’s the easiest to fulfill and do, out of all the three.

☪︎ Anxiety is fear-based and meant to keep you safe; there are certain times when safety, when taken too far, leaves you stuck and resentful; If any negative thought starts with “What if..”, this is an example of an intrusive thought that’s rooted in anxiety. It feels comfortable because it’s familiar, but it leaves you regretful and resentful for not pursuing something else.

☪︎ Intuition is sometimes like an invisible cord that’s pulling you into doing something you subconsciously feel is the right thing to do. There are times when intuition makes you feel uncomfortable, if you are in a period of stagnancy; but there are also times when intuition feels right, when even without logical and substantial evidence to back up the decision, you feel in your gut that it “just makes sense.”

☪︎ With Ace of Swords, your feminine side shares that you will receive some sort of clarity/breakthrough once you learn to listen to your intuition more; it takes practice to differentiate fear and inner knowing, so be kinder to yourself as you go about this journey. The more you listen to your gut, the easier it is for you to have new ideas and have a sense of focus towards the vision of what you want your life to unfold as.

☪︎ 4 of Wands is about your community, stability, and a sense of belongingness. With this, your feminine side suggests you put yourself out into the world to call in your soul tribe/chosen family. More like, the more you become the person you know you are meant to be, the easier it will be to naturally draw in your like-minded community.

☪︎ With the King of Cups, your feminine side urges you to embrace a compassionate approach in life, not just towards others, but particularly, towards yourself. Try to strike the balance between duty and nurture. Try to find a way to hone the skill of living a balanced life.

☪︎ Pile 3, your feminine side urges you to let yourself rest in the 4 of Swords; taking a nap while overthinking is not resting; sleeping and feeling guilty about not being productive hours before is not resting. (Damn, the call-out is real in this pile). Your feminine side asks you to truly let yourself rest and recuperate, unapologetically. How about this: whether you rest later, or rest now, your responsibilities remain; so if you rest properly now, you’ll have more energy to do your tasks wholeheartedly, and the chances of you producing results beyond your expectations is a high possibility. But if you push yourself too hard now just to have something you can “produce for the sake of having an output”, 9/10 the result is half-assed, and this will lead you to have more reason to stress and be filled with regrets. So the choice is up to you.

☪︎ The Strength card feels like your feminine side is telling you to embrace your inner power. If you’re the type that’s made to feel small, now’s the time for you to step out of your comfort zone, and try to build your confidence. You don’t have to make a huge. Life-altering change overnight. This feels more like building that steady foundation of your self-confidence. Learn how to reassure yourself that no matter what, you’ll get through everything because you are sure about your decisions and dreams in life.

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Pile 4 .

Namaste pile 1 ! Let's get with your reading :-

cards pulled out : The world rx , The hermit , Knight of pentacles , Ace of penatcles rx and the emperor rx .

☪︎ People your feminine side encourages you to move forward and no to give up because you are almost the half way to what you need , i feel you are going through major setbacks and still you people trying to do everything you got to make yourself come out of the situation you are in currently and you will actually .

☪︎ Your feminine side encourages you to go for deep self reflection and take time-off from people and other things to sort out what needs to be , she says that you already have got all the wisdom and solution you are seeking that was because of the constant experience , i feel there's a mistake or an action that your committing again and needs to be stopped . She encourages you to meditate and take rest and don't seek help outside because you got it all !

☪︎ Some of you might be having some male relation issue or an issue with authority which will resolve quickly but you being encourages to take your stand .

☪︎ Your feminine encourages or warns you to be aware of any future scam or money investment you are doing , you need to change your long term financial plan or need to revaluate for better , I feel some of you might not get the desired job as of now and it could be that you facing job related issue which resolve quickly withing 2-3 months or before just do not stop .

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©️ @theladybrownstarot 2023 all rights reserved. Any stealing Or copying of work will be a punishable offence.

[thefallennightmare]

One Night-Valentine's Day special

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Nothing like a little Valentines Day smut for these two love birds!

Authors Note: Since this takes place during this universe, every thing that happened between Noah and Reader is still the same! Just a little pop in to see how they've been doing! Happy Valentines Day my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12 @br0kenangel23 @flowery-mess @lizzieseveride @illmakeyousaywow @burning-outx @xhedonistolisx @sinnamongirl @jilliemiw86 @shayzillaaaa @dream-machine-love

“Hi, who can I make this out to?” I smiled up at the person in front of me. 

The young blonde smiled wide. “Uh, Jennifer.” 

I picked up on her nerves but decided not to dwell on it like I’d done with the other 50 people before her. I opened the book Jennifer lay in front of me and wrote the same message I’d been writing all day.

Jennifer, 

Thank you so much for the support. 

XO

Y/N. 

“Thank you so much for coming out”, I said while sliding the book back to Jennifer. 

Jennifer shook her head while clutching the book close to her chest. “No, thank you, Y/N! I absolutely loved One Night. So when you were promoting Always Pretending, I knew I would have another book to add to my TBR list. Needless to say, it’s my favorite book ever.” 

My cheeks flushed. “Oh wow. Thank you so much for that, Jennifer. Truly, your praise means a lot.” 

With a wave, I continued the same thing for the next long while, signing book after book for my fans. This was the last day in a two-week-long book tour across the United States and to say I was exhausted was an understatement. Not to mention, I had a four-hour flight back home to Los Angeles as soon as I left this bookshop. Jackie, my assistant, knew how badly I wanted to get back home so she booked the earliest flight she could. 

It has been like this for the last year ever since I published One Night and now Always Pretending; both books on the bestseller list. While I was thankful for that, I wasn’t thankful for being away from home for so long. 

Away from Noah.

Our schedules didn’t seem to match up as of late. While I was away on my book signing tour, he was home resting because a week after I got back home, Bad Omens would be leaving for a round of festivals overseas. Noah wanted me to join him since I hadn’t been in a long time. We’d been dating for almost two years now and I had to miss out on the last two tours because of my own career. 

I had every intention of joining Noah now but needed to talk to Jackie about it first. She worked tirelessly to keep my schedule busy and jam-packed to promote my books but in my eyes, they didn't need any more promotion. I’d been working almost nonstop with these book tours, interviews, and not to mention trying to work on my third book. 

I needed a fucking break. 

I didn’t want it to seem to people that I was complaining because I was thankful for where I ended up. If you had told the girl two years ago who sat on that tour bus wondering if her first book would be good enough to become a best-selling author, she’d laugh in your face. 

Noticing that we were dwindling to the last few people, I powered through with a plastered smile even though my eyes were drowning in exhaustion. My phone lay on the table next to me, screen down but kept buzzing against the wood. Jackie went to reach for it but I shot her a look in between signing books. 

“I thought you’d want me to respond for you,” she tried to smile. 

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at the older woman because she was simply doing her job but I knew who was texting me and didn’t want her to see those messages. 

“It’s fine, thank you,” I muttered. 

Finally, after a two-hour signing, I was finished and shook out the cramps in my right hand while letting out a deep breath. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and my flight left in 3 hours which meant I had to rush across town to make it in time. 

“So, I was thinking,” Jackie started as I began to gather my things. “The local news channel would love to have you on their morning report tomorrow. I think it would be great publicity.” 

I raised a brow. “You seemed to forget that I have a flight in three hours, Jackie.” 

“I know,” she nodded. “But we can move some things around and-.” 

For the first time since she took over as my assistant, I said the word that I never wanted to because I knew how important the publicity side of my career was. 

“No.” 

Jackie blinked. “What?” 

I sighed while running a hand through my hair. “Look Jackie, while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past few months, I need a break. I’ve been going nonstop since One Night was published. I miss my life back in Los Angeles. I miss my quiet little apartment. I miss my boyfriend.” 

Noah’s smile flashed in my mind and my heart yearned to be back with him. About three months ago, he moved in with me but with how busy both of us had been it felt as if we didn’t have time to actually revel in living together. 

Not to mention, being away from him for two weeks made me horny as hell. Facetime sex paled in comparison to seeing and feeling the real thing. 

“But-.” 

I held up my hand to silence Jackie. “You deserve a break as well, Jackie. Take some time off, do things you love. When I’m ready to talk about book three, I’ll give you a call, alright?” 

Reluctantly, she nodded while tucking a piece of graying hair behind her ear. 

Bidding her goodbye, I threw my bag over my shoulder and then dragged my suitcase behind me to exit the bookstore only to immediately sit in the backseat of the black town car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. Once we were gliding along the road, I finally peered at my phone for the first time in a few hours. 

Noah: Angel, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. Seeing how successful your book tour has been makes me smile. I can’t wait till you’re back home and we can celebrate. I love you so much. 

Noah: So, are you going to sign a copy of Always Pretending for me? Since you know, I was your muse for it. 

I rolled my eyes with a giggle before replying to Noah. 

Me: Oh please, you know I’d sign a book for my biggest fan. Also, I love you too. 

As I browsed through my phone, checking my social media and responding to emails, Noah texted back. 

Noah: So, we have a problem. I can’t pick you up from the airport because I forgot I had my therapy appointment at six.

My heart sunk to the depths of my stomach. All day I’d been looking forward to seeing Noah’s face as I stepped through the doors of the airport. But I knew that he couldn’t miss therapy. It was more important than picking me up. 

Me: It’s okay, love. I can order an uber. I should be back home by 8. Maybe we can have a late dinner together? 

Noah: Already taken care of, angel. 

With a yawn, I adjusted my glasses as I stepped through the gate doors of the airport, dragging my bags behind me. There was a delay in taking off at the last airport which meant I was now arriving in Los Angeles at 9 p.m rather than 7 p.m. I had to buy wifi on the plane so I could message Noah to let him know about the delay. 

Thank the gods I changed out of my professional attire at the last airport and opted to wear my Bad Omens joggers and Noah’s yellow hoodie; his smell still lingering. With my phone in one hand, I was about to order an Uber when my feet skidded to a halt at the sight in front of me. 

What a cheeky little…

Noah smirked as he held a bouquet of black daisies. 

“Hi, angel,” he mused. 

I reached for the flowers and brought them to my nose, inhaling their scent, and then peered up at Noah. 

“I thought you couldn’t pick me up.” 

Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair from my face. “I sort of lied. I had plans to pick you up then take you out to dinner for Valentine's day but when your flight got delayed, I had to switch things up.” 

“So you’ve been waiting here for two hours?” I asked. 

“Worth it.” 

He shrugged before wrapping his fingers behind my neck to bring our lips together in a long overdue kiss. His tongue immediately molded against mine and I moaned into it, my hand sprawling over his chest. The material of his Hereditary sweater felt warm underneath my palm and I let myself fall into him when his hands grasped my hips. 

“I missed you, Y/N,” Noah’s teeth grazed over my bottom lip. 

“I missed you too, love.” 

With his arm wrapped around my shoulder and other hand holding my bags, Noah led me out of the airport and towards his car parked in the parking lot. Once we were settled, he began the drive back home. I nestled into the passenger seat and let out a content sigh. 

“Tired?” Noah questioned with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh. 

“No, surprisingly. I thought I would be but I’m just happy to be back home.” 

He brought my hand to his lips to kiss along my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back too, angel.” 

For the rest of the drive home, I told him how the book tour went while he told me what he did the last few weeks. Since it was down time for Bad Omens, Noah spent it either in the gym with Ash or in the studio with the guys. 

As we walked down the long hallway to our apartment, another yawn slipped through my lips and I nearly stumbled. Noah chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. 

“You should get some sleep, angel.” 

I frowned while burying myself into his sweater. "I'm not tired."

His lips brushed along my forehead as we stopped in front of our door and he unlocked it. The darkness of our home escaped into the hallway as I stepped through the threshold and when I clicked on the lights, a gasp fell from my lips. 

Matching the daisies bouquet I had clutched in my arms, our entire apartment was littered. Music played softly as I noticed the steaming dinner plated on our kitchen island, candles lit and spread throughout. 

Turning on my heels, I gaped at Noah who leaned against the door with a smug smile. 

“What is this?” I asked, doing my best not to cry. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, angel. I had Jolly set this up for me while we were on our way home. He had to warm up the dinner I cooked earlier but I promise it’s still good,” he said. 

My eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot it’s Valentine's day! I was so busy with everything I didn’t get you anything.” 

Noah pushed himself off the door and immediately cupped my face so I could look up at him. The hood of his sweater was still pulled over his eyes, chocolate tendrils falling into his face. 

“You know I don’t need anything. Just you, angel. But I wanted to do something special for you because you deserve it.” 

I left a firm but quick kiss on his lips, muttering against them. “Thank you, Noah.” 

He smiled while motioning behind me. “Come on, let's eat.” 

“Fuck, Noah,” I moaned when his tongue licked up the patch of skin his teeth grazed. 

My nails dragged down his bare chest, leaving red marks along his tattoos, as he continued to slam his cock into me, the couch beneath us scraping along the wood floors. 

“So tight. I missed you,” he groaned into the crook of my neck as his hips stilled. 

I knew he was close but also knew that he didn’t want it to end yet. What started as a nice romantic dinner turned into a heavy make out session on the couch. Neither of us could wait any longer and needed to be connected once again. 

His fingers brushed along the folds of my pussy and I shook with the feeling as he slowly dragged his cock all the way out, only leaving the tip inside. 

“Noah,” I whined while raising my hips. “Please.” 

His teeth dragged along my nipples. “Please what?” 

I raked my nails through his hair and yanked back causing Noah to let out a loud hiss. “Fuck, angel.” 

“Stop teasing me and fuck me, Noah. Please.” 

My screams echoed throughout the apartment when he buried his cock deep witin me again, his pace becoming ruthless. But our position on the couch wasn’t the greatest, I needed to be able to feel him even deeper. We couldn’t make it to the bedroom when we first started and there was no way I was going to stop this now. 

Noah could tell I needed something different because with one strong arm, he lifted me from the couch to carry me over to the kitchen table. I squealed in delight as I writhed in his embrace. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as he made me lean back. 

He brushed back the sweat slicked hair from his forehead and licked his lips. “I need a taste of you.” 

With a tight grip on my thighs, he spread my legs wide apart before he knelt between them. The warmth of his tongue sent shockwaves to my entire system as he lapped up the remnants of my previous orgasm he gave me on the couch and I arched off the table when he began sucking on my clit. 

“Shit, Noah. I’m going to-.” 

With two fingers spearing me wide open before pumping in fast succession and his mouth sucking on my sensitive nub, I let the shock of my orgasm tear through me with such a force that it nearly took my breath away. 

“Such a good girl,” Noah mused while laying a kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I missed the way you taste.” 

I only had a few minutes to breath before he was yanking me off the table to now stand on my feet. He patted my ass. 

“Lean your hands against the window,” he nodded towards the patio door. 

“What-?” I shuffled on my feet. 

Noah’s lips attacked mine in a ravenous kiss and when he pulled away, he brushed my arousal off of his lips with his thumb. His bracelet and necklace glinted in the light from the lamppost outside. 

“Be a good girl, Y/N, and do what I say,” his voice was as dark as his eyes. 

Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly made my way over to the patio door that led out to our balcony and rested my psalm against the glass.Thankfully we shut off all but one of the lights so no one would be able to peer up into our apartment and see what we were doing.

"Keep your hands on the window," he demanded and then yanked my hips back to him so I was bent over. 

Nodding furiously, I spread my hands against the window of the patio door when his cocked slipped inside of me again, his name falling off my lips in a prayer. 

“That’s right, pray to your king,” Noah rasped as he bit down on my shoulder. 

One tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach while the other tightened around my throat to bring my chest against his back, this new angle making my vision blurry. It felt so good, the burn, and Noah knew how bad I needed it to hurt. 

 He squeezed until I felt the air being ripped away from me, his cock slamming into me with no sign of stopping. He never held back and I never wanted him too.  I needed it to hurt, needed it to burn, that I wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.

When I felt the darkness creeping to the corners of my eyelids due to how tight he was gripping my throat, I let out a choked moan. 

“Safe word?” he muttered into my ear before kissing the skin behind there. 

Although his voice was soft and concerning, the way he fucked me was completley different. 

I did my best to shake my head with his tight grip around my throat. “Keep. Going. So. Close.” 

Noah eased his grip a bit so I could take a deep breath before he tightened it again. My orgasm was so close, I just needed a little something to have it wash over me. As my hand moved to my clit, Noah smacked my ass, the sound echoing through our apartment. Instead, his thumb pressed circles against my clit and that was exactly what I needed to let my orgasm finally release from the tightness of my body. I came with such vigor on Noah’s cock he groaned into my hairline. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised while letting go of the vice grip around my throat. 

Gulping for hair, I nodded. “Yes.” 

Nails dug into the skin of my hips as Noah’s pace became even more frantic, him chasing his own release, and I was so far gone in my post orgasmic haze that I nearly didn’t hear the two words he said. 

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. 

Noah’s hips stilled for a beat before he let out a deep, guttural groan when he spilled his warm release into me. 

“Marry me.” 

Before my body could fall into a heap to the ground, Noah lifted me to sit me on the edge of our kitchen island. His large hand cupped my cheek so I had no choice but to gaze upon him. His pupils were blown wide due to our actions and his chest rose and fell as he did his best to catch his breath. His warm cum dripped down my legs onto the cold marble beneath me but I didn’t dare think about the mess. I only thought about those two words. 

“What did you say?” I asked, still breathless. 

“Marry me,” Noah said again without an ounce of hesitation. 

Everything around us seemed to fall away, the eerie quiet of the apartment now ringing loudly in my ears. My heart beat loudly in my chest that I could feel it in my throat when I realized how sincere Noah was. This wasn’t a joke, he meant those words. 

As if he thought I was doubting him, he ripped open our junk drawer in the kitchen to pull out a small velvet box and my breath caught in my throat. 

“Fuck, you’re serious?” I choked out. 

Noah smiled wickedly as he opened the box, the light above the kitchen sink catching the diamond almost instantly. The gold band was thin but the oval shape of the diamond almost sat perfectly against it. 

“With you, Y/N. I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said. 

My throat burned in the best way. Never in this lifetime did I ever expect to have such a romantic Valentine's Day. Guys in my past never gave a shit, especially Jacob, so to have Noah go all out was something I wasn't used too but knowing he loved me so much made my heart swell. 

I began to nod wildly. “Fuck yes!” 

With a laugh, Noah collided our lips together in a fever kiss before reluctantly pulling away to slide the ring onto my finger. 

“I didn’t mean to have a cliche proposal on Valentine's day. I planned on asking you if you came overseas but I couldn’t risk not asking you before,” Noah explained. 

I wrapped my legs around his naked form to bring him closer to me and I hung my arms around his neck. We were still naked and the cool air from the open window brushed along our heated skin. 

“I’m coming with you.” 

Noah’s eyes lit up. “You are?” 

“Yeah, I need a break and now that we’re engaged, I think we need to celebrate,” I waved the hand with the ring in front of his face playfully. 

He grasped it to leave a kiss upon the ring. “Say no more, angel.” 

My squeals bounced off the walls of our home as Noah carried me into our bedroom to start our engagement celebrations.

[httpkaulitz]

Bill x female reader 2009 era

Bill has his studio at home of course so he doesn't have to always leave yn alone .

He texsts her to come to tbe studio because he wants to make her listen to human connect to human so she goes.

As she listens to the song she realizes it's about them and she starts to tease him leading then to tbe bedroom 😇

Human conect to human

PAIRINGS: Bill 2009 x Female reader

CONTENT: Smut

SYNOPSIS: Bill writes a song about you two and you decide to tease him.

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, p in v, kissing

A/N: One of my favorite songs so of course i got carried a bit

Because Bill had a busy routine, he always prioritized as much time as he could spend by your side, which is why he decided to create a studio at home, so he could spend time with you between work breaks and always stay close.

He had been working on a song for a few days now and although he didn't talk much about it, you knew he was excited.

You had gone out to buy some things when you received the message from Bill asking you to go straight to the studio when you get home. And you ran home, curious to know what he had to show you.

As soon as you entered the studio you could tell how excited he was just by the way he looked at you. Bill always seemed like a ball of energy when he was happy and excited.

Without saying anything he handed you the headphones and put the music on. You listened intently as he waited anxiously. Even if you don't understand music in a technical sense, Bill was always very appreciative of your opinion.

You paid attention to the lyrics and noticed many similarities in your relationship with Bill. You had to fight a small smile.

Bill never hid that his life was a source of inspiration for his songs, but he had never been inspired by you or your relationship before.

After a few minutes the song ended and you took off your headphones.

“So, what did you think?” He asked anxiously.

Deciding to provoke him, you said seriously. “It’s a bit provocative compared to what you’re used to writing, isn’t it?”

His gaze quickly changed from excited to surprised, clearly not expecting that answer.

"You didn't like it?" You almost felt bad of how his voice sounded.

“Oh, I really liked it.” You said as you slowly approached him. “I wonder what could have inspired you to write something like that.”

You watched his ears turn a shade of red and he was quiet for a moment as if he had been caught.

“Nothing in specific.” He whispered as you traced circles on his chest through his shirt, looking at him closely.

“Oh, really?” You hummed looking through your eyelashes. He knew you already knew about it, but you liked playing and so did he.

You stood on your tiptoes and whispered in his ear, making him close his eyes. “A kiss, a touch, never enough, so soft, so hard, don't stop, you start. Instinctive skills, like animals.” Bill sighed before opening his eyes again.

“So it’s not about us?” You asked innocently, lowering one of the straps of your dress drawing his attention to your now exposed skin.

You smile, standing on tiptoe to get closer to his face. One of your hands ran down his chest until it reached the front of his pants. You could feel the hardness under your palm. And you smiled before squeezing gently.

Bill brings his face closer to yours, but before he could kiss you you hook your hand on his belt and pull him out of the studio. The path to your room seems longer than you remember.

As soon as you entered the room you began to undo his belt, Bill seemed almost in a trance, he closed his eyes eager to be touched. You had to take advantage of the opportunity because you weren't always able to overpower him. He waited, but you didn't do anything else.

"I won't touch you until you answer my question." You said in a firm tone making him open his eyes to look at you. Bill bit his bottom lip, watching you mouth so close to his.

"I want you to kiss me." He whispered the first thing that came to mind, forgetting what question you had asked. Seeing you bring your face closer to his, he parted his lips and closed his eyes in expectation, only to then sigh in frustration when he felt you place a wet kiss on his jaw and nothing more.

"That's not what I asked." You said smiling ironically.

He whispered some things in German that you had no idea what meant, but from his tone he sounded frustrated.

"I want to hear you say it." You said, wrapping your arms around his waist tightly and pressing your bodies together. The feeling of his erection against your belly made him moan.

"I-I... I want you to touch me." He whispered, his voice cracking. He could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Bill wasn't the type to let himself be dominated for long, but you loved seeing him like this.

Keeping your body pressed against his, you fixed a strand of hair, taking the opportunity to caress the soft skin of his face.

"But I'm already touching you, my love." Bill knew you were playing with him, teasing him.

“Now tell me what you were thinking while you were writing that beautiful song.” You whispered before stretching your body, standing on your toes. Wrapping your arms around Bill's neck, you moved your hips against his, making him part his lips in surprise.

"Did you think about us fucking?" Running your fingers over his dark shirt. Bill nodded weakly shaking a little more each time you rubbed your hips against his.

"I would close my eyes and think of you in all kinds of positions." He said holding one of your hands that was now on his chest. “Thinking about the intoxicating sensation of being inside you.”

You watched as Bill slid your hand down his body, making you feel the subtle muscles on your palm. Reaching the edge of his shirt, you pulled away to help him take it off. Quickly discarding the piece somewhere in the room, you turned your attention to Bill's body. Your eyes roamed his naked torso, following the v-line as if they were the path to paradise.

You walked quickly closing the space and pressed your lips tightly against Bill's, feeling his taste on your tongue. He seemed surprised by your sudden actions, but quickly responded to the kiss with fervor. You wrapped your arms around Bill's neck and pressed your body against his, making sure there was no space between the two of you. After a few seconds he separated your lips from his, his mouth traveling every inch around your lips, kissing everything from the rosy skin of your cheeks to your jaw.

You let out a moan as Bill took control. You knew he would at some point. He kissed your neck, sucking the skin below your left ear making you pull his dark hair between your fingers, you moaned and rubbed your legs against his, feeling an electricity pass through your body.

"Bill..." You whispered in a moan, feeling his hands travel down your body, squeezing and caressing every little part.

The feeling was wonderful, but you needed more than furtive kisses and caresses. When your lips met again, Bill wrapped his arms around you and pushed you against the wall.

He grabbed your hips and lifted one of your legs, holding your thigh firmly. You sighed, unable to contain your excitement as your tongues fought, occasionally moaning against each other's mouths. Gaining dominance again for a moment, your hands traveled down Bill's chest until reaching his pants, skillfully opening the button without breaking the kiss, you grabbed the edges of his pants, pushed them down and smiled when Bill's lips parted. He kicked his shoes, socks and pants away and kissed you again.

You felt Bill's hands travel up the fabric of your dress and into the slit, his hand moving up until he was caressing the skin of your stomach. He was quick, holding your thighs, spreading them open. He slid his hand between your legs and into your panties feeling the soft, wet skin against his fingers.

"Bill." You moaned and threw your head back, giving him opening to kiss and suck on your neck, while his skilled fingers made small circular movements against your clit.

"I love the way you taste." Bill said softly against the soft skin of your throat, before traveling back up to your lips. You could feel Bill's breath against your lips, you didn't need to open your eyes to know that he was watching you moan as you writhed against his fingers.

Bill smiled when you opened your eyes, which were now a darker shade. You kissed him quickly, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth making him moan instantly.

"I want you inside me." You said through moans, pulling him onto the bed.

"I'm all yours, love." Bill whispered following you, his hoarse voice clouded all your senses, you took a deep breath, pushed him sitting on the bed and then pulled the black boxers down his legs, discarding them in some corner of the room with the rest of your other clothes.

Bill watched your every move as if hypnotized. You smiled, moving the straps of your dress aside, letting it slowly slide down your body followed by your underwear. Bill stretched out his arms trying to pull you towards him but you slapped his hands away giving him a warning look.

You removed the clip holding your hair and placed it on the dresser next to the bed, taking your time. You smiled, watching how Bill bit his lower lip, looking at you in a mix of desire and impatience. Walking slowly over to him, you climbed into Bill's lap and slowly sank down on top of him. You tried to suppress the shudder at how good it felt to be in control. Bill groaned and closed his eyes, an expression of pure bliss on his face as you moved your hips.

"God, you're so hot." He whispered as he opened his eyes and smiled.

Bill leaned forward, his eyes on your lips, but you pushed him back, moving faster on him. Struggling to stay in control.

"You won't let me touch you?" He asked laughing, Bill pushed himself forward forcing his hips to slam against yours hard. You bit your lip to hold back a moan, feeling your face flush under his gaze.

"No." You responded hoarsely, excited by the way his smile grew wider in defiance.

"What if I don't obey you?" He asked, smiling mischievously before sliding one of his hands up to your left breast and squeezing it roughly. You bit your lower lip, slapping his hand away.

"You know I can't let you control for long, love." Bill held your hips and forced you down quickly, making you let out a little scream of surprise and pure ecstasy.

"Bill-" You swallowed your words and clung to his shoulders, when with a growl he thrust his hips again and you both simultaneously let out loud moans.

Not being able to escape Bill's dominance any longer, you began to move against him, your hands on the back of his neck for support. Bill's hands on your hips commanded each movement with a rough thrust. Then he leaned forward, buried one of his hands in your hair and pulled you in for a kiss.

You moaned, not realizing how much you wanted your lips against his until that moment. You ran your nails down Bill's shoulders and pulled him closer as the kiss intensified. You felt your movements becoming erratic and your legs starting to shake, unable to keep up with him.

You heard Bill murmur between moans and grunts, but you couldn't understand in the midst of all that euphoria. You screamed and closed your eyes tightly feeling the pleasure taking over your body. You felt a hand grab your throat, forcing you to open your eyes to look at him. Bill smiled widely, licking his lips as he looked at you with mischief and delight.

"I left you in control." He said slowly. "Now it's my turn to command."

You thought about answering him, but he leaned in and kissed you. In an instant, the almost gentle kiss turned into a primal need with tongues and teeth fighting against each other violently. Bill started to push himself into you again. Soon the pressure in your belly became unbearable and you threw your head back, not being able to contain your screams of pleasure.

Bill buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking the skin, you gasped in pain and pleasure. He spread open-mouthed kisses over your neck, smiling when he found a spot with a mole. You scratched Bill's back. Moaning, the name left your lips in hot breath. "Bill..."

The effect it had on him was immediate. His lips were back to your ear, breathlessly growling. “Say my name again.”

“Bill…” You complied with his request immediately, repeating his name in a moan over and over again. Bill clung tighter to your body, making you bury your face in the crook of his neck to hide your scream of pleasure.

He let out a loud moan that made your body shake. You held Bill's hair between your fingers, feeling your hands shake as he continued to move his hips.

You moaned loudly when his teeth grazed your neck and you felt another orgasm hit you again. Screaming loudly in his ear, clinging as close as you could. He managed to give one last, hard thrust before releasing himself too, moaning against your hair. He fell back onto the bed, pulling you with him. You just lay there on Bill's chest, wrapped in his arms, recovering from the post-orgasm ecstasy.

"This was amazing." He whispered smiling.

[didishawn]

Then can I request a kylian fic where the reader is Jude and jobe Bellingham’s older sister and she is about 20/21 yo and she gets sm dms from different players, basketball players singer etc etc.. but then she gets a dm from kylian ( and kylian is her celeb crush) so she is over the moon then her brothers find out and become so overprotective over her.

Thank you for reading this long request bbs

❤️❤️❤️

Celebrity crush (Kylian Mbappe x Reader)

Warnings: none really, just celebs flirting with you and being kind of suggestive I guess

Masterlist

Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5

"Hey, Jude, care to tell me what your friend is doing on my dms?"

That definitely catches your brother's attention, walking over and taking the phone from your hand, his eyes widen when he sees Haaland react to your story with heart eyes, fires and a: looking good, Bellingham

"What an asshole" your brother says, scrolling up to see more messages like that from his friend "Any other friend of mine over your dms?"

You see your brother's intention of checking out more messages, you stand up, taking the phone off his hand, making him and Jobe -sitting on the couch, previously distracted, but now with a watchful eye staring at you-surprised.

Jude raises an eyebrow "What was that about?"

You give him a nervous smile "What was what about?"

"Taking the phone off his hand" Jobe says "What are you hiding?"

"Nothing, just don't want my little brother going through my dms"

"Do you have a boyfriend that you don't want us to know about?" Jude asks, his arms crossed, imitating your father whenever he saw you with some boy.

"And where did you get that from?"

"I don't know, you have been pretty cheery recently, not as annoying, and know are hiding something on your phone"

"You really want to see who else dms me?"

"I surely want to know if you are -Jobe cover your ears- hooking up with any of my teammates"

"I know what hooking up is...."

"Seriously, Jude? Fine, here, take it, I don't think you will find any of your friends there, but who knows?"

Honestly, Jude was kind of joking when he made his drama queen act about the dms, but he is not about to miss the chance of seeing who messages his dear sister.

Pedri González: coming any time soon to Barcelona? I can show you around the city and some real fun

Jamal Musiala: looking great, makes me want to show you who the best team of the Bundesliga really is

Harry Styles: wanna come to my next concert? Then we can find something better to do

Hero Fiennes Tiffin

Jude doesn't have time to read what that one said as his eyes go to the next name, he has that look that says: bullocks.

"You can't be serious, Kylian Mbappe?" he shouts, Jobe is instantly next to him watching your screen, your cheeks red.

Your brothers are speechless as they scroll over months of conversations in between you and who they know to be your celebrity crush, unbelieving when they see it was Kylian -or, Kyky as you call him-was the first to reach out to you, reacting to some story of yours of you tanning on the beach.

The man has invited you to France and all, and even offered to be the one to come and see you, doesn't matter if you are in Germany or England, he says he wants to see you.

"I can't believe it..." Jude sighs, Jobe nods.

"And you didn't tell us!"

"Because just look how crazy you are now. Besides, it's nothing serious, we are just friends"

"Yeah, right, that's why he constantly ssays you are hot and is desperate to see you"

"We are friends"

"You still should have told us!" the younger of the two says.

Jude is still for a second, seemingly deep in thought -you refrain from commenting how your never thought him to be one capable of thinking- he opens the camera, pointing at him and Jobe, whispers something at the younger one, you are confused, but refrain from saying anything as you see him press record.

"Hello Kylian, I am Jude, this is Jobe, but you must already know that judging by how much you seem to talk to my sister. You see, this video is just a warning to be very careful on whatever match we see each other next in, because I will be going after you. What on Earth is this about flirting with a maybe-future teammate's sister. Not cool at all, right Jobe? "

"Yeah! Not cool! At all!" you can't help but snort.

"So, yeah, just sleep with an open eye, and also, forget about my sister, she is too good for you even if she is pretty annoying"

"What? I am not annoying!"

"Yes you are, now shut up, I am not done yet" Jude turns again to the camera "Or you can continue talking to her and see what happens. Anyways, now I am finished, see ya around, Kyky"

They send the video, looking pretty proud of themselves.

Kylian opens your message as soon as it arrives as he always does, Jude and Jobe expectant for his reaction.

A couple of minutes later, a video from him arrives too, your brothers opening it without delay.

"Hello, Jude, Jobe, of course I know who you are, because you are right, I spend day and night talking with your sister and I don't intend to stop. I am pretty exited for what you will supposedly be doing next time we see each other Jude, I am sure you have some tricks up your sleeve - so do I, by the way. Really hoping we do end up as predicted on the same team, to see the look on your face when y/n uses my number instead of yours. Also, tell your sister to call me later, and don't be surprised when she travels to Paris on the next couple of weeks, she will be with me, my treat. Take care care you two, and give the phone back to your sister, I have something to show her"

Your brothers are speechless, and you, can't hp but laugh, taking your phone you start walking off, but turn to them "Oh, yeah, I will be asking you later for some tips about what to wear to Paris. I want to look my best, you know?"

You laugh at their expressions, a gentle smile taking over your face when a text from the man himself arrives, this time for you.

Your brothers are pretty funny, love, but we will also have to make sure to fill up the internet with photos about us when you come to me. Just as a payback.

[blueaetherr]

half-life

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): angst, gotg3 reference (?)

summary: the one where we witness jude and y/n's love for one another falter over time and its aftermath

now reading: the sun is also a star by nicola yoon

in love, [half-life] is the time it takes for lovers to feel half of what they once did

Somewhere in the flower field, a setting graceful and niche in presentation, a space that ran for miles and miles with shades and styles in every foot and inch—somewhere in all of that, there was Jude and Y/N.

They were simply lost in the mass of everything, of all there was around them. Lost in their shared thoughts and reality, lost in the company one was able to give the other. 'Cause even though they were surrounded by such vibrant colours, wildflowers galore and nature itself, they instead chose to focus their sight on each other.

"For you," Jude said after he had crafted a flower crown as he held it out to his partner.

Tilting her head, her lips welcomed a grateful smile. Y/N took the delicate creation with care and support. Y/N observed it as she spun it between her fingers. "Thank you, but you didn't have to."

"I didn't but I wanted to." His words were spoken as if his intentions had been so evident.

"Alright, alright," she let out a breezy laugh, matching the evening winds. Soft and mild. Considering Jude's love languages were a mixture of giving gifts and acts of service, she shouldn't have been surprised. Suddenly, she frowned. "I didn't make anything for you though."

His eyes wandered their greenery surroundings before suggesting, "Pick something from the grass at random for me."

"Okay, let's see..." Inhaling a small breath Y/N reached her hand into the grass and when her hand came up, there was a four-leaf clover in her grasp. Her mouth fell open as a few laughs escaped. "Shit then. My gift to you: good luck."

"I mean this is amazing," Jude chuckled as he accepted the clover. Then he shrugged, "But I think good luck has already come my way." It was only uncomplicated words he spoke yet it had Y/N flustered and shying away from her partner's gaze all while grinning wide—happy, and that in itself by default made him happy too.

12 months into the relationship and this was the couple at their peak.

The two, and the relationship itself, were one's favourite love song, the living proof of true and ideal love and stood tall and proud with the foundation of love at first sight. They were feared by heartbreak, refreshing love cliches and in essence simply beautiful and inspiring and wonderful. That was Jude and Y/N. 

Taking adoring pictures, pronouncing corny yet adoring words to one another, sharing their looks of affection when the other wasn't aware—this was them at their personal best and from there, they could only falter and fumble after that.

They were 18 months in when the cracks in the relationship began to appear in their eyes. In the privacy of their home, between their family and friends, in their messages. It was slow and steady yet they were for sure drifting, and drifting, drifting away from one another. It was subtle at first, like when their schedules began to not match up so they couldn't see one another that much, or getting in and out of bed at different times so they spent less time together. 

But they were okay with that; it was an irregularity they were bound to face in their relationship. And there were a plethora of ways to manoeuvre around their problems, like talking on the phone or messaging when space was between them or when they weren't in arms' reach of one another.

But then the messages calmed down and calls were being missed, going to voicemail until they were eventually declined by the receiver. The explicit messages were the first ones to go, and they continued to fall flat until only essential calls were left between Jude and Y/N. And even when the two individuals were in arms reach of each other, when they were under the same roof at the same time, when they could share close and personal dialogue—they chose not to.

And like the calls and the messages, their conversations let up over time. Everything began to diminish in quality and quantity: conversations, bedroom interactions, movie nights, inside jokes, shared dinners and breakfasts in bed. They never noticed, they never had the chance to really, but they unknowingly slipped below the status of both a couple and roommates all at once so quickly.

They were 21 months in when the cracks grew more and more prominent and public. Y/N attended fewer games while Jude attended fewer work parties. Fewer dedication posts, fewer sighted outings together. The pair—as individuals—began to barely speak about one another to their families and friends, uncertain and wandering speech whenever they would.

And because it became so public, because Jude and Y/N used to be so public and open and suddenly now were significantly nothing, everyone noticed; the change was visibly discernable. There was concern, honest worry for the two. Though always would the two shrug it all off and reassure everyone by saying all would be good in the end, not knowing what the end actually entailed for them in future months.

'Cause Jude and Y/N just kept escalating, faltering, and stumbling away from one another as the months passed. 1 month, 14 days, 7 days, 3 days, 1 day until they amounted to absolutely nothing. It had been an internal battle. They felt what they could—that adoration, desire, attraction, affection—they loved what they could until they couldn't anymore. 

They spiralled, completely spiralled until they were nothing, and there was nothing they could have done to stop it. Without noticing they simplified devastation in their relationship. They were the earth after a monumental asteroid, knocked off their axis and forced into oblivion.

"We're a bit tragic, aren't we?"

It had been quiet for a while. Not only between the two but also in the coffee shop they were settled in, seeing as closing time was near and hardly any customers but themselves were present. Still, they welcomed it almost as if the two had forgotten how to speak (and maybe they did). So her voice came to him as a surprise when she narrowed the silence between them.

Jude came out of a short daze and dialled his attention back on the person sitting across from him. He tuned back into Y/N—his now ex-partner—who was stirring her coffee order waiting for his response. 

"Tragic?" He exhaled and leaned back in his place and tilted his head. Not only because he had to think about it. They were having one of those conversations again. The ones that were beyond depressing and sad to entertain. "A strong word that, but yeah... We're a bit tragic."

He looked away as his chest fell. There was a sad smile on his lips when he finished speaking. Y/N shared how he felt, nodding with pursued lips because it was overwhelmingly true.

After they broke up some months ago they chose to remain friends, civil and familiar. They were able to be friends with no problem or hassle. Still, that didn't cancel out the fact that they were indeed tragic as one.

A quick glance at their relationship revealed the hardships Jude and Y/N experienced together. They were forced to break apart so prematurely and there was little to no one to relate to. What they had initially felt for one another hadn't been able to withstand the demands of fate and the universe. While they tried and tried and tried countless times, they couldn't exactly recall the reasons why they fell for one another some years ago. 

For those reasons and many more, they were tragic.

"I don't know if it's just me," Y/N started as she placed her spoon down, "but I always try to pinpoint where it kinda went all wrong but I'm always lost about it."

"I just try not to think about it, to be honest," Jude sighed, drained and hopeless. 

By now he had accepted that he and Y/N as a couple had been a lost cause. The distance between them who they had been and who they were now was too wide to bridge. Just like Y/N couldn't pinpoint where everything had gone wrong between them, he had been doing the same before their break-up, when they had started to slowly unravel. Months have passed—years—and still was Jude uncertain as to how they fell apart so he just left the subject alone for his sanity.

He didn't acknowledge it that much but according to others around him, the weight of the break up fell on Jude's shoulders more than it did Y/N. He was the one who opened up the possibility of a relationship; he was the one who had pursued Y/N, had asked her out and eventually asked her to be his girlfriend. Being the more emotional half, the more vulnerable one had others feeling like Y/N was the first one to fall out of love.

Jude could've reacted when he had first heard that judgement though chose not to. One, their relationship was over so what good would an answer actually do for them? Two, just like his past lover, he too fell out of love with Y/N. Why antagonise her for something she couldn't control, an action he too was guilty of committing?

He cleared his throat as he lifted his eyes away from the table. "But I do try to at least imagine what we were like." Imagine, not remember. If he tried to remember he would fail. To imagine came with no defeat and all creativity; he could wish upon all he wanted and leave out all the bad of their previous relationship.

Her eyes brightened as they widened, interest prevailing in her voice. "Oh, really?" It wasn't rare to have positive talk between them. Not everything they spoke about was sad and depressing. What was rare was positive talk regarding their past together.

"Yeah. Not all the time, though," Jude sat up straighter in his place, rubbing under his nose. "Just when I want to wonder a bit. I don't talk about it with anyone anymore—I haven't for a while really—but I spoke about us with my mum the other day, like last week or whatever. I asked about it 'cause I naturally get curious and she told me some stuff."

She carefully gripped her hands around her mug, despite her coffee having gone cold by now. "And what did she say?" Y/N asked in a soft tone.

"She said... she said a lot. She said after I first asked you out on our first date and you said yes, I was so excited and obsessed with you—in a good way obviously. I asked her about when I first told you I loved you and she mentioned I was so happy and excited and kinda just in love that she was scared that I was going to go too fast, like propose or something." The corner of his lips curved up as they shared a small laugh together. Despite their distance, they were able to reminisce on something they no longer held feelings for.

"We spoke a lot about how I was with you and everything and after all that I asked about you, how you were to me... and she didn't have to say much because and I quote, the same way you felt about her was the same way Y/N felt about you, Jude."

Soon, Y/N became animated as she offered Jude a teasing look. "So what I'm hearing is that we were soulmates?" Even if it was a question in literal terms, it almost came out as a statement. Y/N wanted to believe they were soulmates beyond their losses.

"I think we were so much more than just soulmates," Jude suggested. From a shy smile it grew into something wide, happiness reaching his eyes perfectly. "Soulmates, best friends, in-between people for others. And I want to believe we were fun and cool and real." 

Even though Jude and Y/N couldn't remember what or how they felt for one another once upon a time, they still had a clear chain of events of their relationship, and still had an understanding of their favourite activities and hobbies together. From that they could come to their conclusions.

"We still are." Not that she wanted to believe that but rather Y/N knew that was the reality. Beyond their depressing and sad conversations every few weeks, they would have fun and cool and real times. 

They still enjoyed listening to music together. They still played video games together. They still found comfort and rest in having conversation with two coffee orders with the dessert special of the day at their favourite coffee place, always sitting at their designated table—with Jude facing the entrance—that even some of the staff members recognised to be theirs. All those activities and events happened all time post-relationship, just without those lingering feelings.

He hummed in agreement. "We still are," Jude said, satisfied and happy. He was satisfied and happy knowing that this wasn't just a sad and depressing conversation they were having; they were also able to share some happiness and understanding during their routine meet-up.

Jude and Y/N shared some easy conversations, exchanged songs and music tastes, discussed their favourite people, hot gossip and personal life with no fear of judgement seeing as they were given the time and space alone together in the final open hours of their favourite coffee shop.

It was a wake every time they would meet up; they would pay their respects to their dead relationship, reminisce about it if the collective mood was moderately neutral, comfort and support one another where needed, reflect on the relationship and life in general, shed tears or laugh then say goodbye when it was all said and done.

But there was also a celebration aspect to it. After everything, after the universe and fate had screwed them over with false hope of a flourishing relationship, after losing the ability to feel for one another romantically, Jude and Y/N were still friends. Not too distant or best friends but friends. They were friendly and comfortable and civil to one another, and that was okay with them; that was all they needed to move on together and separately.

Maybe they were right after all. The love was still there, unconditional just within reason. Whether together or not, Jude and Y/N were soulmates and would always be.

part 2

[giirlblood]

baby boy ( ~ 2k words )

requested by @lottiesboy !! my first time writing a real fic in a while so i hope it's okay , i may be a little rusty . :\ mid way though i realized i was Not following the prompt as well as i meant to .. i was thinking more about repressing regression than having trouble with it ough . it has the same support && message of "it's okay to be tiny" so i'm still posting because YES but if you'd like me to rewrite it differently i can it just may take another while . tomorrow i get to go home for the first time since coming to uni i'm so super excited !! i should have more time to write && stuff then . :3 yellowjackets masterlist here , upcoming list here ^_^

summary : you're having a hard time right now && need some help regressing from your mamas . they help you to see that it's okay to be tiny !

tags / warnings : hurt comfort , sfw agere , boyre , mama ! lottie , mommy ! shauna , little ! masc reader , romantic lottieshauna / butcherqueen , yellowjackets x reader , baby yells at mama :C , but everything turns out well :3

You’ve been extremely quiet the whole day since returning from class, something abnormal for you. Usually you come home full of stories for Lottie and Shauna, hardly being able to wait until dinnertime to tell them both at once. Today has been different though. When you got home you ran straight to your room, hardly even mumbling a hello to Shauna who’d been reading on the couch let alone asking where Lottie was (her beloved garden). She’d not even had a chance to react before your door slammed loudly. You’ve been upstairs locked in your room ever since, despite soft knocking on the door from Shauna and then later Lottie asking you what’s the matter and assuring you they’re here for you. You ignored this, despite wanting to let them in, because you just didn’t want to talk. God, you're tired. 

You sigh as you hear another knock on your door. It’s Lottie. “Hi there, prince. I just wanted to check in on you…” She pauses before adding, “Mommy made your favorite if you’re feeling ready for dinner.” Your ears perk up at that. You are getting pretty hungry… Slowly you get up and move to the door, opening it a crack. This earns a smile from Lottie. “There you are.” 

You don’t reply, emerging from your room without a word and shuffling slowly towards the staircase with Lottie close on your tail. She doesn’t push you to talk which you’re grateful for. You peek your head into the kitchen where Shauna is at the stove. Lottie is soon behind you, placing a hand on your back, urging you into the kitchen. You squirm at the touch. It’s not that it’s unwanted, it's just that you’re not small right now. You don’t need to be babied, you have things to do. Adult things. Noticing your apparent discomfort, Lottie removes her hand, swiftly moving to put her hands on Shauna’s shoulders, placing a kiss on her cheek from behind. 

“Smells good, my darling.” Shauna’s cheeks flush with pleasure though you can’t see it. Lottie whispers something in her ear about getting you to come down, which embarrasses you. You pretend you didn’t hear; only a child would make a stink about something like that. And you’re not a child. 

Shauna turns around to face you offering a warm smile. “Why don’t you sit down, love. I’ll make you a plate.” You shake your head, reaching to open the cabinet and grab a plate yourself. She places a gentle hand on your arm stopping you. “Come on, I insist. I can tell you had a hard day, let me do this for you.” You take a step back, wanting to say something. You open your mouth with intent to talk back but instead you heave a sigh. Obediently you go over to the table, sinking down in your usual chair. You notice one of them has filled a sippy cup with milk and placed it at your spot. You cringe, shoving it away harder than you mean to, knocking it over in the process. 

Lottie notices immediately. “Hmmm looks like someone’s fussy tonight.” Your eyes widen and you let out a sound almost like a growl in frustration. 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT. I’M NOT LITTLE!” You yell and the volume of your voice surprises even you. Lottie shrinks back, her shocked expression hitting you like a slap in the face. Immediately you apologize three, four, five times, your head sinking into your hands. Lottie regains her composure quickly, speaking softly. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have assumed. You’ve had a tough day, you’re allowed to feel angry.” 

You’re quiet again. Shauna places a steaming plate in front of you, and you mumble a thank you feeling embarrassed at your behavior and your caretakers’ responses to it. “A meal would be good for you right now.” You lift your head up and nod. 

“Thank you…” you repeat, unsure of what else to say. 

“Would you like to eat by yourself or can Mama and I stay?”Shauna asks gently. You’re not sure why she’s being so nice. You’ve been hiding in your room all afternoon; you just yelled at Lottie. Your eyes fill with tears. “You can stay,” you choke out. “Please stay,” you add. 

Having made herself a plate, Lottie comes to sit down next to you, immediately noticing your tears. “There, there.” She pats the hand resting next to your fork. “Are you ready to tell us what’s the matter?” You shrug. When Shauna sits down and gestures to your plate you pick up your fork and start eating, having a few bites before you say anything else. 

“It’s just… everything is hard recently. I’ve been working so much but every day there’s something new to add to the list. I just don’t want to get behind.” 

“Mhmm,” Lottie hums letting you know she’s listening. She squeezes your hand to show support, Shauna giving you a sympathetic look from across the table. You sigh, pushing onwards. “It’s not that I don’t want to regress or want to be good and all that… It’s just I can’t right now. I have more important things to do now that I’m at uni.” You sniffle. 

“Is that how you really feel? That your regression is unimportant?” Lottie’s tone is soft. You shrug. 

“Oh honey,” Shauna starts. “Your regression is important. If it helps you cope and makes you feel better then it’s super important.” She goes on seeming to pick up on what you didn’t say as well. “Your well being is what’s most important to us. Whether you’re regressed or not you will never be a burden to us, isn’t that right Lottie?” 

Lottie nods. “Oh 100%. You’re our boy whether big or small.” 

“Is that why you’re so upset today, baby?” Shauna asks you. You hesitate before nodding. She lets out a sympathetic “Awww.”Upon hearing your stomach growl loudly she motions toward your plate. “How about you finish your dinner and then we can talk more. You must be hungry.”

You nod, obediently picking up your fork and beginning to eat. “There’s a good boy,” Shauna smiles and Lottie pats your hand again. You blush, focusing on your food. You finish first and wait for Shauna and Lottie to do the same, staying silent. Your eyes are drawn to the sippy cup of milk, still knocked over. A kind of ache begins to settle over you. The frustration and hurt of the recent days slowly begin to dissipate, and you get the strong urge to pick up the cup and drink from it. But you can’t. You don’t feel even remotely small, and you’d feel too silly to drink from a sippy cup while big. 

Shauna notices you staring at it and at your empty plate. She and Lottie look at one another and Lottie nods. “Here buddy, if you’re all done why don’t I take your plate for you? Do you want to drink your milk?” You shrug, unable to look at her. 

“Sort of but… I don’t feel little…” You flush red. 

“Would you like to?” Shauna asks you and you flush an even deeper red, almost purple. You nod, feeling too embarrassed to speak. Lottie chuckles, scratching the top of your head. “All right then. Why don’t I take your plate and Mama can go grab some pjs? Would that be okay?” You nod some more still blushing. 

“Oh don’t look so embarrassed, silly boy. It’s okay if you want to be small.” You open your mouth as if to protest and she gives you a look. “I promise that. There is nothing wrong with you regressing! I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to.” You hide your face, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Your mamas are too sweet. 

Shauna picks up all three of your plates going over to the sink to wash them. You notice she leaves the sippy cup which you pick back up so it’s no longer on its side. She gives you a wink. “Let’s leave it out in case you want it a little later, hm?” You nod, following Lottie as she goes out of the kitchen and back upstairs to go pick you out some pajamas. 

She opens the hall closet full of your regression items, ranging from clothes to toys to bottles and diapers. You’re a little embarrassed upon seeing those but Lottie ignores them, instead focusing on the row of pajamas. “What are we thinking, big guy?” She pulls out a few options, a pair of puppy printed ones, and a set of footies patterned with trains. 

You slowly reach out for the puppy ones, feeling a little awkward as you still don’t feel quite little. “Can you get dressed by yourself or do you want mama’s help?” she asks gently. She gives you another reassuring smile. 

You laugh a little nervously. “I can do it myself.” She nods, turning her back as you slip into the bathroom to get changed. “You can go downstairs, ma- Lottie. I’ll be quick.” You realize your mistake after it’s done, glad Lottie can’t see you blushing as a result. Maybe you’re starting to feel a little small. 

“Are you sure, bud?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Still you can’t help but smile at the fact that she’s still standing outside when you finish changing. She coos upon seeing you and you suddenly feel shy. “You didn’t have to wait…” 

“I know, but you’ve had a hard day today. I didn’t want to leave you up here all by yourself.” 

You don’t respond, allowing her to guide you back downstairs, this time into the living room. You’re surprised when you walk in to find Shauna with your sippy cup and a big blanket, a cartoon now playing on the tv. It’s Garfield, your favorite. You stop in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the screen, already feeling smaller than you were a few minutes ago. 

Lottie feigns shock gasping and pointing. “Who’s that, baby?” 

“GARFIELD!” You shout excitedly not looking away. Shauna chuckles.

“Shh, mama and I are right here, buddy,” she gently scolds. “But aren’t you a smart boy?” You giggle. “Why don’t you come sit down?” Shauna pats the seat on the couch next to her. “Mommy could use a little cuddle,” she continues and you run over to her, eager to oblige. 

Lottie sits down on your other side. “Room for me?” You giggle. 

“Of course! Silly Mama.” You hold onto her hand while you’re snuggling with Shauna. She plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“Such a sweet little one. Is my boy starting to feel small?” As you slip further you become less anxious and awkward about your regressing. You nod unapologetically. 

Shauna is still holding your sippy cup in her free hand, now offering it to you. “Are you ready for some milk, honey?”You nod, making grabby hands for the sippy cup. Shauna tries to place it in your hand but you whine shaking your head. “Oh? What’s the matter?” 

“Mommy give me.” Shauna looks a little confused but Lottie seems to understand. 

“I think he wants you to feed it to him, darling,” she whispers loudly. You nod. 

“Oh! Why of course my sweet boy.” You giggle, kicking your feet a little. You get yourself settled in her lap and she holds the cup up to your mouth allowing you to drink. After the big dinner you had it doesn’t take you very long to get full. You turn your head to the side, refusing the rest of the milk. 

“Oh, is baby all done?”You nod, babbling a little in response, feeling super tiny. She chucks your chin, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You stifle a yawn but Shauna catches it. “Looks like somebody’s getting sleepy.” 

“Nuh uh,” you try to say but you really are. “Stay.” 

“Okay, buddy. We can stay down here a little longer but if you’re sleepy we gotta get you to beddy bye.” You babble, trying to let her know how very wide awake you are thank you very much! Still, you don’t even make it through one more episode of your show before falling fast asleep in Mommy’s lap with your head resting on Mama’s shoulder. 

[ssentimentals]

like a sunflower {choi hansol}

pairing: hansol x fem!reader

prompt: 'your heart is beating so fast right now' (this work is part of my 1k event, go check out other works of mine here )

warnings: none, this is pure fluff!

hansol doesn't know how to do it. how to just- say it. words are usually so easy for him, they spring themselves into sentences and lyrics so effortlessly, so he doesn't really know why he's having such a hard time here. it's just- how can he say it? how can he tell you that sometimes he feels like he was born for you without making it weird? how he can explain that he thinks a lot about how so many people spend so much time trying to find their place in this world and yet he has no intention searching for it cause his is right next to you? words don't feel quite right whenever he tries to open his mouth and talk about it; words don't do justice to everything what's bubbling and brewing inside his heart, they fall flat when he tries to put it all on the paper. with a frustrated groan, he tears off yet another unfinished love letter, throwing it down.

'you're overthinking it,' joshua admonishes him gently. he's been quietly observing his roommate for the past twenty minutes and starts getting a little anxious at the sight of torn notebook pages at his feet. 'you two are so close, i think she'll understand what you mean even if you won't write an ode to her.'

'i want it to be perfect,' hansol replies, stubbornly tearing up another page. 'she deserves nothing but.'

'don't get so worked up,' joshua pacifies, standing up and coming over to his friend, patting his back comfortingly. 'i don't think she wants perfect, though.'

at this hansol looks up at him, frowning. joshua chuckles, putting his finger right between hansol's eyebrows, making him go a little cross eyed. joshua doesn't know how hansol can be this blind, how he can't see how you two are so close that whoever sees you for the first time always ends up thinking that you're a couple. he's never seen any other two people who care about each other so deeply as you two do, so hansol being nervous before asking you out is laughable. only hansol doesn't find it funny. joshua sighs, patting his roommate's shoulder. 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you.'

hansol blinks, mulling over what he heard. it sounds a bit too good to be true, but joshua is not cruel, he'd never joke with him about something so important. before he can properly give this idea a good thought, his phone beeps and from the ringtone alone he knows it's from you. hansol instantly jumps on his bed, ignoring joshua's loud snort at this and unlocks his phone, smiling at the text message from you.

'judging from your smile, i take it she invited you to come over,' joshua speaks, watching with amusement as his friend hastily starts to get dressed. 'what for?'

'i'll help with her halloween prep,' hansol mutters, pulling on his favorite sweater, the one that you gifted him for christmas. he wears it with utmost care, loving the most how you light up at the sight of this sweater on him every single time. 'and she'll help me with my statistics exam.'

'don't forget the umbrella,' joshua's voice reaches him when he's almost out of the door. 'it's gonna rain soon!'

hansol ignores it in favor of rushing to you, zipping up his backpack on the way. the road to your place is his favorite one, he knows every single crook down the alley, every single tree is familiar to him - he spent so many hours memorizing it all, because this road leads him to you and his mind shuffles everything which is even remotely close to you to the folder in his brain called 'important'. he huffs in annoyance when it first rain drops fall on his head and then groans loudly, when two rain drops turn into a full on downpour, making him look around in search of the hideout. without thinking he runs to the nearest shop, announcing his presence with a grunt, blinking up at variety of flowers in front of him in stupor.

'hello, how can i help you?'

he passed this flower shop so many times but never really went it, so young man in dark brown apron,who stares at him too kind eyes, is entirely unfamiliar. hansol clears his throat, helplessly staring back, gesturing towards the exit and mumbling something about the rain.

'oh!' understanding lights up in stranger's eyes and he smiles, nodding. 'seeking shelter from rain? it's fine, you can sit here.'

it's very kind and it makes hansol shuffle from side to side with unease as his eyes take in beauiful array of flowers. there are all kind of them, colors vary from dark to bright ones and sunflowers stick out amongst everything in their yellow-orange glory; hansol takes a step towards them. his eyes gravitated towards them just like they do with you and this thought makes him smile. 'sunflowers are not very popular,' the stranger chimes in, watching hansol with a smile on his face. 'which is a shame, really. they are very beautiful.'

'what do they mean?' hansol asks quietly, not looking away from the flowers. their color is so warm - it reminds him of you. something sparks up at the back of his mind, something that demands his attention as he stares at these flowers.

'hm, adoration in most cases, longevity in others. they are known for being 'happy' flowers, you know? like i'd give them to someone who make me happy, to person who i want to stay in my life for a long, long time.'

hansol blinks and moves on instinct, grabbing bunch of sunflowers due to his inner voice basically screaming at him to do it. 'i'll take those.'

'oh, okay. i can wrap them up in-'

'no-no, i'll take them like that, how much is it?' hansol interrupts, suddenly needing to get out of here and run to you like right now. his heart starts beating faster as ideas form in his head, joshua's voice loud and clear in his head with 'she doesn't want perfect, she just wants you'.

he hastily pays, ignores surprised looks from the guy and runs to you with sunflowers in his hand, getting wet in seconds under the pouring rain. it's cold and his clothes stick to him in the most uncomfortable ways, but his heart is marching so loud in his head, he can't think of anything else but... you. and how you will love these sunflowers. how he's an idiot for trying to capture perfect words in lyrics because perfection in this world exists only in you and nothing else. how he really can shake off any pretense and come to you with an open heart, soaked clothes and unwrapped sunflowers and that you will take him in, because that's what you always did, have done from the start. it's you-you-you and by the time he stands in front of your door, knocking urgently, hansol thinks he might have gone a bit delirious.

'who- oh my god,' you gasp, stopping on tracks at the sight of him. 'hansol, what even-' you blink, gazing in confusion at the flowers in his hand and then back at his wet clothes. there's thousand questions in your head, he can tell, but instead of voicing them out loud, you say: 'get in, god, are you okay?'

is he okay? this questions makes him want to laugh and he barely holds it in. is he okay? he doesn't know but despite the shivers running up and down his body from the cold, he feels like he's on fire. you say something about him being dumb for forgetting umbrella and every second which passes by and he doesn't confess to you feels like a second wasted.

'-you'll catch a cold if you keep on standing in these wet clothes!' you huff, pushing towel in his hands. 'and... um, these flowers..' you trail off, unsure. something ugle tugs in your chest at the thought of these flowers not belonging to you, but you stomp at these feelings. 'do you want me to put them-'

'these are for you,' he rushes out, tripping on his words. 'i mean- obviously. obviously these are for you.' hansol looks down and grimaces: 'i'm soaking your carpet, sorry.' he then quickly looks up, handing you the flowers: 'sorry, here. i hope you like them.'

'sunflowers,' you voice, carefully cradling them in your hands. 'they are beautiful.'

like you is on the tip of his tongue and hansol holds it back but then thinks better of it; why the hell he'd hold back? 'like you,' he says, smiling at surprised look on your face. 'and they make me feel warm just by looking at them and you do, too. i look at you and i- it makes me warm all over.'

you blink at him, not exactly sure what to do with this information. hansol, with this crazy look in his eyes, looks like he's on the brink of fever and you frown, stepping closer to him and feeling up his forehead for any signs of high temperature. 'you're not warm,' you state, buffled.

second passes and hansol huffs in disbelief. he takes your hand in his and moves it towards his chest, knowing very well what you'll find there. just like he predicted, your eyes widen: 'your heart is beating so fast right now.'

'i assume it would, considering how i'm about to confess.'

a stupor and then, cautious and hopeful: 'confess?'

'and ask you out as well,' hansol nods. he's mindful of not pulling you very close, not wanting to get your clothes wet too; but he still tugs at your sleeves so you'd step more in his personal space. this is where he wants you all the time. 'i tore up two notebooks, trying to write you a perfect song, or poem, or love letter. but it's hard cause i can't really find the right words for this feeling, you know? you feel it, don't you know? you know what i'm talking about, right?'

your eyes glow with a keen understanding but you still press on: 'what feeling?'

hansol sighs and when your fingers squeeze at his sweater unconsciously, in tredipation for what's to come, he knows he just needs to be honest: 'like i was made for you. like everything could change, but there's one constant thing in this world and it's us. what you and i have.' he pushes your hand tighter to his chest, searching for your eyes desperately: 'don't you feel it too?'

a fire can break down for all he cares, but he'd never look away from your eyes. you open up to him like a sunflower opens up to the sun, it's a beautiful thing. all you can do is nod, because hansol has always been better with words between you two and because you're afraid your voice might crack in the end from all of the emotions.

'i ran all the way here like a dying man cause one more second without you knowing how i feel just didn't make any sense.'

you shut your eyes, trying not to start crying. hansol, who you always seen as your soulmate, who has always been your side to the point that it's hard to imagine life without him; this hansol is the very same hansol, who tried to write you a perfect song, who ran under the rain here with sunflowers to tell you that he thinks he was made for you. you open your eyes, taking a deep breath. glancing at him and then at the flowers, you smile shakily: 'this is perfect.'

'it is?' he lights up like a little child. 'really?'

'i mean, i never really cared or wanted the perfect, i just wanted you.'

hansol sucks in breath, feeling like he was punched in the gut. god, he really needs to listen to joshua more. he opens his mouth and then tremor wracks his whole body, making him cringe: 'i..really need to change out from these wet clothes.'

sound of your laugh is the music to his ears. he watches the way your head falls back at your laugh and feels love pour out from his pores, unrestricted anymore. he may be shivering of cold now, but just by looking at you he feels warmer. just like a sunflower.

a/n: i think this ended up being way too long and maybe a bit too mushy but!! no blaming me, i had a rough time and i cope by writing something like this. to the anon who requested it - hope you like it! - nini

tagging @prpldahy

[garmanarnarr]

Rickorty Week Day 6: "Say You'll Marry Me"

college-aged Morty | 2.8k words | Rated M, language, vomit, suicidal ideation, rock bottom Rick Sanchez

@rickortyweek

Morty throws the trunk of his dad’s station wagon shut with a thump. 

“You sure you don’t need to bring my Ninja smoothie blender, Morty?” Dad asks, for a second time, standing on the driveway beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The August morning is hot and clear. Gene’s sprinklers are going hard on the lawn next door. 

“I think it’ll make you really popular with your roommate. You said they’re from California, right? They must be healthy. There’s a little more space behind the driver’s side–”

“N-nah, I’m good, Dad,” Morty says. He goes around to the passenger door to do a last check of his overflowing laundry hamper and make sure his video game console box made it in. He doesn’t want to forget Bonestorm III. All told, he doesn’t really have that much to bring, though, and the car’s only half full. He wears pretty much the same clothes all the time, and doesn’t have a ton of books or movies or anything. His booby bikini girl poster is rolled up in the footwell of the backseat and one or two of his robot figurines he just couldn’t part with are packed into cardboard boxes. All the advice listacles his parents found online for Summer’s freshmen year of college said that bringing something from home was important, so the idea has been passed down. 

He reaches into his pocket and palms the little evil intent detector that Rick had made for him a few years back. A tiny credit-card sized piece of metal that reads people’s brainwaves and vibrates if they’re planning on hurting him or torturing him or whatever. They’d used it on an adventure, a rare heist –Morty can see Rick’s eye roll– but he hadn’t had the heart to throw it away. He’d gone back and forth for ages on whether or not to even bring it. He still doesn’t have to, he tells himself; he has hundreds of miles of highway driving ahead of him where he can just chuck it out the window and let it get crushed on the side of the road. He tightens his grip. 

His mom comes out of the garage, checking her watch. “We gotta get this show going,” she says. The garage feels weirdly empty until Morty realizes it’s because Rick’s ship isn’t in it. Hasn’t been there for a while. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and starts loading the last few bags. 

“If we don’t leave soon we won’t make it to our motel until, like, eleven, and lord knows what we’re going to find in Fresno after sundown,” Mom says.  

Dad follows Morty as he transfers a final trash bag of gym shorts and shit into the back seat. 

“What– what about my George Foreman Lean Griddle? Or, my Slap Chop? You never know when you’ll need onions in little cubes, those always make me cry….” 

Dad sniffs, then wipes away a tear, even though he’s trying to look like he isn’t. Oh, God. He had volunteered to drive Morty first, of course, before being overruled. 

Morty turns back and gives him a small smile. “I’m really fine, Dad. But thanks.” 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, just give me a moment, son.” 

Something in Morty’s pocket buzzes. His hand flies to Rick’s detector, for a second, until he realizes it was the other one. He pulls out his phone and opens it to check his messages while Dad tries to get it together. Two are from Summer, who’s been spending her senior year of college in London with the textile arts department of her school doing fashion stuff. 

dont let dad cry all over u little bro 

cuz hes gonna

The newer message is from his girlfriend, Anne.

status report mortimer

Morty finds himself looking for some kind of message from Rick– which is stupid. Rick doesn’t text. 

He texts Anne: 

finally leaving lol 

She responds immediately:

call me when you guys stop for the night? 

Morty’s heart clenches fondly. They’re going to different schools to study different things in different parts of the country— newly separate time zones– and it’s going to be hard, but he likes her a lot. Enough to give it a shot. He winces as he remembers Rick’s deadpan dismissal when Morty had mentioned that he and Anne were going to do long distance over dinner a month or two ago. D–didn’t take you for that much of an idiot, Morty. As soon as she gets there she’s gonna be getting allll sorts of co-ed dicks in her mouth. But I guess you don’t mind sloppy digital seconds?  

Ofc i will, he types. 

Nobody’s heard from Rick in two or three weeks. Morty had kind of expected– well, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he’d really thought that Rick would do him better than this. All he does is talk about how stupid Morty is all the time; maybe he’s pissed at being sort of wrong. He’d been straight up shocked when Morty got his acceptance letter in the mail, the packet fat in Morty’s hand as he raced down from his room to show everyone. While Summer screamed, and both his parents had cried, Rick had stared at the letter Morty was holding, hard, then sipped his beer, then turned back to the TV. N-nice one, Morty. A real cool sixty grand a year investment, there. 

“Let’s go, Morty,” Mom says, opening the passenger side door. “I need some coffee if we’re gonna do this.” 

Finally, Dad wipes his face. After taking a few deep, calming breaths, he walks over and sweeps Morty up in a hug. 

“I’m proud of you, Morty.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“We didn’t think you’d make it, but you did. Of course you did. And that’s what matters.” 

“Bye, Dad,” Morty said, leaning into the hug. “I–I love you.” 

“I love you, too.”

Morty doesn’t realize how much he misses the sound of a portal opening up until he hears one right behind them. Dad jerks back with a frightened twitch. 

“What the hell–?”

Rick doesn’t so much step out onto the driveway as fall. He looks to be in a really bad way. Maybe as bad as Morty has ever seen him: scraggly and torn up, not even really standing up straight, too drunk for his body to cope with the flat, even keel of the pavement. One arm of his labcoat is missing, ripped off at the shoulder, and Morty’s thankful to see that the arm beneath is intact. Skinny, and maybe there are track lines, there, faint in the bright sunshine, but intact. There’s dried vomit crusted on his sweater. 

“M-Morty, oh, God,” Rick moans. Morty feels a sinister shiver run over his shoulders and up the back of his neck as he watches Rick try to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly into the hot light. “Christ. Fuck.” 

“Dad?” Mom asks, poking her head out of the driver’s window. 

“Rick? Here to say goodbye to Morty?” Jerry asks, cautiously. Morty watches as he scooches himself to stand between his son and Rick, a little bit. A surprisingly brave move. 

“Isn’t that w-what we’re all doing?” Rick asks back, taking a step forwards, then falling to one knee with a lurch as he loses his balance. “Saying fuckin’ goodbye— goAAUUGhodbye to Morty? Because he’s going away f-f-forever and never coming back?”  

Rick’s drunken stare pins Morty to the side of the car, which had been parked outside so long while they packed that the metal is starting to get hot. The words sound like a taunt, but Morty can hear the truth there, a hard kernel in the middle. 

“Hi, Rick,” he says, trying for indifference. In his pocket, he squeezes his hand around the detector. 

Rick narrows his eyes. “R-R-Rick and Morty. One thhhhousand fuckin’ years. What, whatever happened to that shit, huh?”

“Dad–” Mom’s getting back out of the car. 

“So I’m going to school. Big whoop,” Morty says, annoyed. Everything about this is annoying: Rick disappearing whenever he wanted then showing up just in the nick of time fucking shit faced like he’s trying to bail out the Vindicators. “You’ve been gone for, like, three weeks, Rick. And you didn’t feel the need to tell anybody about that. N-not that I would expect anything else at this stage. So, you know, whatever.”

“Three weeks?” Rick’s struggling to stand back up, now. “Three weeks?”

“You’ve never owed anyone anything in your whole goddamn– your whole stupid life, R-Rick. Not my family, not me. Not even Mom.” 

Rick’s expression is foggy and drunk, but underneath, Morty can see he’s hurt.  

“I think you should go, Dad,” Mom says in her stop-doing-this-right-now-or-you’re-fucked voice. “I don’t care if you portal out of here, or crash on the sofa to ride out your hangover, or whatever, but just. Let us leave.” 

Somehow, Rick manages to get one leg in front of the other so he can advance up the driveway towards Morty with halting, wavering steps like a zombie in a horror movie. The detector in Morty’s pocket buzzes. Dad looks back and forth between them, scared. 

“Three weeks, Morty?” he grinds out, again. He’s close enough now for Morty to see how bloodshot his eyes are. “I’ll give– give you three weeks. Y-you know what happens when you go to college Morty? You have four years to get too fuckin’ big for your idiotic little britches.” He grabs one hand around Morty’s bicep, grip crushingly strong. Morty can smell his rancid breath across his face, agitated, huffy. “And then you, you go and think you can do goAUUGHd, good things for the world, or whatever, you get those little aspir– aspirations in your head, Morty, you get these fucking ideas in your head–” 

“It’s already been years, Rick,” Morty says, trying not to turn away. “Doing whatever, well at least, pretty much whatever, I-I guess, you wanted me to do.”

“– and you don’t even know how stupid these i–ideas are, until, boom, you’ve lived your whole sad-ass pathetic-ass life doing jack fucking shit. Goin’ and bein’ a techbro office slave narc or some shit. I just can’t, I just can’t ffffucking– oh fuck—” 

Rick starts to throw up pretty spectacularly all over the ground, and the side of the car, and on Morty’s sneakers. 

“Oh my god, Dad!”

“Oh, Rick that’s just disgusting!!”

Morty just stays quiet until Rick seems finished and he slumps against the car, moaning. He watches as Rick slides down until he’s half knelt, half crouched by the front bumper, the vomit running down the gentle slope of the driveway to touch his shoes and the spread hand on the ground that’s keeping him from falling on his face. He makes a sound when Morty comes closer, a sort of whimper. Morty gets down beside him. Unable to stop himself, he puts a hand on his grandpa’s back and starts rubbing little circles as Rick groans, spitting out a wad of bile. There are a lot of different colors in the vomit, ones Morty can’t recognize even though he’s pretty familiar with Rick’s binge habits by this point. 

“Fuck youUUGh. Fffffuck you, Morty. I– I mean that. So much. '' Rick’s staring at the ground. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his hand. Morty wonders if maybe he’s going to be sick again. 

“Yeah, fuck you, too, man,” Morty says, but there’s no heart in it. He just feels sad. He wishes– he doesn’t know what he wishes. 

“F-forever. Fuck you, forever,” Rick mutters quietly, almost to himself. Little dark spots show up on the driveway beneath his head, and Morty realizes he’s crying. Or maybe it’s post-vomit drool? It’s hard to see his face. 

“M-Morty, Morty listen to me,” Rick says. He sounds defeated, almost confused. As old as he really is. 

“I’m listening, Rick.” 

“I’m gonna do somethin’ stupid. Sooo, so stupid.” Rick’s still staring at the ground. 

Dad’s shadow has crept next to Rick’s foot. “Rick, I really don’t think–” 

“Whatever you’re about to do, think twice before you traumatize my son,” Mom says. Then she pauses and adds: “More.”  

Morty keeps rubbing circles across Rick’s knobby spine. “What, Rick? What– what’re you gonna do?”

“Say you’ll.” Rick chokes a little. 

“Say what?”

“Say you’ll marry me, Morty.” 

Morty blinks. “What?”

“JeEUGHsus Christ, don’t make me say it again.” 

Morty’s body is a live wire. His hand scrunches the back of Rick’s coat tightly. “No. Say it again.” 

Rick stares up at him with watery eyes. 

“Marry me,” he says, quietly. Pathetically. There’s some drool and left-over throwup clinging to his chin. 

There was this one adventure they’d gone on where Morty had mangled his leg so badly that his shin bone had actually broken the surface of his skin. Burst right through below his kneecap, like a jagged, bloody tooth. It was screamingly painful– Rick actually had to knock him out until he was able to fix it with some nanobots. Morty realizes that this is the same as that; that this is some core part of Rick, torn through all the heaped layers of nihilism and drugs and whatever else poisons who his grandpa is. This is the exposed bone. 

When Morty looks up at his parents, he can’t read the expressions on their faces. 

“I– I’m not a good person, Morty,” Rick says, grabbing weakly at Morty’s t-shirt to get his attention again. Like he can’t bear to let Morty look anywhere else. He sounds like he’s really losing it. “I’m a horrible person, Morty. Say– say that you’ll marry me. God, I’ll blow my fuckin’ brains out if you don’t— let’s just g-g-get out of—oh my God—” 

Morty’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t know if it’s the detector or his phone, and he should care, should be terrified, but he doesn’t. 

He isn't.  

— 

Turns out, Shoney’s is a regional chain.

Morty doesn’t realize this until they reach the last one at the edge of the state, just before they cross the border. ‘Last Shoneys for the next 24,800 miles,’ says the sign at the exit. There’s a graphic of an arrow reaching all the way around the globe, back to the little point on the map they’re driving through. Morty has traveled the multiverse with Rick, to places billions of light years away, so far away time doesn’t mean anything at all, but somehow this is already the longest trip he’s ever taken. Like that one scene in the Lord of the Rings where Sam crosses the corn field. If I take one more step, this’ll be the furthest from home I’ve ever been. That was a really good movie, Morty thinks. 

His mom throws the car into park. She’s had to adjust the driver’s seat to be closer to the steering wheel because her legs are shorter than Dad’s, and change all the mirrors, too. She drives way faster than him, swerving lanes to cut around traffic like a maniac. Maybe that runs on her side of the family. 

“Food?” she asks, simply. Morty nods. He twists to look over his shoulder. 

“Rick?” 

Rick stirs in the back seat, thin eyelids fluttering. They’d made space for him by shoving over a bunch of the boxes to one side and moving some to the trunk. There aren’t really that many, anyways. He’s wearing a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt that belongs to Dad, which helps, but he still has an undernote of puke and sweat. 

He makes a hungover-sounding groan. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“You want Shoney’s?” Morty asks. “L-last chance.”

“Shoney’s, you say?” He cracks an eye open, gaze flickering around to look up at the building they’re parked at. “Didn’t know they had them out here. O-on earth, I mean.” 

Mom watches him silently in the rearview mirror. Rick just looks at Morty. 

“Y-you know what, fuck it, sure,” he says finally, popping open the car door and getting out. The sun is even hotter, here, and scorching air blows into the car when he slams it closed. Mom and Morty do the same, one, then the other.  

Together, they go inside to eat lunch. 

[swallowedbyfandom]

Her chambers soon begin to look like a florist shop. Colin has been a busy bee, she will give him that. He has sent her beautiful elaborate bouquets everyday this week with sweet little cards attached. In the week since that awful dinner at Bridgerton house Colin has managed to purchased a home in Bloomsbury. He has also interviewed and hired several servants to fill household positions. There have been trips to the lawyers and other legal affairs that has the Ton holding their breath. It is clear to all he is preparing to take a wife.

Her mother observes the situation with a shark's predatory anticipation. It is almost makes Penelope sad that her mother cannot see what he does not do. He has not gone to see a doctor yet nor has he had one come to call. She is serious about that, she had once overheard a midwife tell her mama that certain illness can led to infertility. While at the time she did not understand, what they were speaking on she does now. Her Papa's whoring likely left her mama unable to carry a child again. Colin has not come to call and he still has not come to her mama to formally declare his intentions to court her.

Frankly she has stated clearly what her expectations are for a suitor. That he is still falling short of her expectations is his own doing. He had eight weeks to work with. He just burned nine days of that with half measures. Flowers are a nice gesture but they are an empty gesture when she has a home filled with gentlemen callers daily. When they take time from their day to hand deliver her flowers and sweets. When they line up and wait to spend time with her. He is stalling, and falling woefully behind.

She is standing with Agatha who has used her dragon's glare to give her succor during the last three balls. The pickings of available bachelors worth spending time with tonight is minuscule. They are in the middle of giggling like schoolgirls over Lord Duncan trying to hide behind a curtain, when she spots Francesca looking uncomfortable with Lord Samadani. She lets out an aggravated sigh.

"Please pardon me. I must rescue Fran from the Queen's import. Please let her Majesty know they are incompatible. He wants an army of children and Francesca does not want more than two." Agatha lets out a snort, with a knowing smirk.

She makes her way over to Fran who is politely trying to give the Marquis a not so subtle hint. She flashes Fran a reassuring smile and smoothly cuts into Lord Samadani's ramble.

"Please pardon my interruption, my Lord. Francesca, Lady Danbury has been trying to get your attention. I believe she has a message from your mama to pass along."

Francesca gives her a relieved smile, before turning to excuse herself from Lord Samadani. Penelope opens mouth to excuse herself also, when she spots Fife making his way over to her.

She grabs Lord Samadani's arm and turns her wide panic filled eyes on him. She speaks rapidly.

"You must sign my card and take me to dance immediately."

To his credit he reaches for her dance card as he speaks.

"Why am I breaking the rules of etiquette to dance with a Lady I have not yet been introduced to?"

"You are a gentleman are you not? I am a Lady in distress. What better reason is there?"

They take their positions on the dance floor.

"Are you really in distress?" He asks her.

She places her hand on his shoulder and relaxes her frame while responding.

"I assure you my Lord, any Lady with sense would be distressed by Lord Fife. I am sure that if I am forced to dance with him once more tonight I shall stab him with a dessert fork."

He releases a deep rich laughter that draws attention to them. He smirks at her.

"May I have the name of the violent lady I am to dance with?"

Giggles escape her as she demurs.

"Penelope Featherington, my Lord. However I dispute the claim that I am violent. I prefer the term vigilant." She frowns as she continues speaking. "Lord Fife is swine. He enjoys making comments that are improper. While I may not understand the actual innuendos, I understand his leering looks enough to be uncomfortable."

The Marquis looks decidedly less amused by that. His frame carries a tension now it did not before. She distracts him with questions about his country. He is surprisingly charming and intelligent. He escorts to her to Albion after their set is complete and once he sees Lord Fife approaching again, this time trailed by Colin he signs her card for a second dance. Thankfully it is her last spot available on her dance card. She gives him a curtsy while graciously thanking him for his aid. Now she has a viable reason to deny Fife and Colin both a dance.

Colin is lucky she is not holding a drink in her hand when he asked why she did not keep a dance available for him. She for certain would have thrown it into his face at that moment. The hubris of that question fills her with rage. They have been at this ball for hours if he wanted to dance with her he should have asked when she arrived. She has danced six sets tonight with a variety of different gentlemen. She has danced an additional four sets that were second dances. Lord Samadani will be the fifth Gentleman she has a second dance with that night. That Colin thought he would swoop in the last hour of the ball and finally grace her with his presence. He must believe her desperate or still a silly girl waiting for crumbs of his attention.

The carriage ride back is entirely too long in Penelope's opinion. Her mother has spent the ride blatantly evaluating Penelope. She allows her mother to look her fill without comment until she figures out which question she wants to ask. Finally Portia seems to make up her mind.

"Have you finally given up on Mr. Bridgerton?"

She rolls her eyes. God, her mama is so short sighted.

"Contrary to what you like to believe I had never really set my sights on Mr. Bridgerton."

Her mother scoffs in response.

She makes a dismissive gesture with her hand, before she continues speaking.

"You don't have to believe me. Your opinion in the grand scheme of things matters very little. I have always adored the Bridgertons as a whole. It is also true I have always held tender feelings for Colin. However I never expected anything to come from it. I was aware that our close childhood bond would always have him viewing me as a little girl. I did not try to entice him. I never felt the potential fallout with his family to be worth the risk."

"If I were as blinded by love as you believe, I would have accepted his proposal. I did not because I am no longer certain he would be an ideal husband for me. He has allowed peer pressure to dictate a change in his values and behavior. What use would I have for a fickle husband?"

"If he wants to be my husband he will prove it. He will swallow his pride, eat his words and court me publicly. He doesn't get a pass because we were childhood playmates. We are not children any longer. I will not marry unless I am sure my husband will not leave me and our children in dire straits the way papa did to us. I am more practical than you believe."

"I do not need to be in love to marry well. I am looking for a stable partner I can grow to love. I am looking for a man who will think disappointing me is a fate worse than death. Who will choose me and our children before anything else. I would rather be a spinster than settle for less than that."

Her mother's lips are white with how hard they are pursed together.

"Colin Bridgerton looks down on our family, mama. He thinks he would be doing me a favor by marrying me, and saving me the shame of the Featherington name. Our family may be a scandalous mess, but we are survivors. While I am not proud to be a Featherington, I am proud to be Penelope Featherington. If I allow him the upper hand of being my white knight now, he will have it forever."

Her mama looks so pensive. Penelope allows herself to lean forward and drop a kiss on her forehead.

"I have been caring for myself for years now, mama. Put your efforts on my sisters they need you, I do not."

Her mama seems to startle at that. " I have tried my best with all of you girls. You know that right?"

Penelope exhales heavily she is too tired and short tempered for this conversation.

"No you did not. You tried and failed with my sisters. Phil and Pru are helpless and without a single drop of cunning. You married them to idiots. Albion and Philippa I can understand. They are in love and happy but neither of them is particularly bright. They are one shady steward away from poverty. Albion needs someone to teach him how to run an estate. Hopefully his parents will do so."

"Pru and Harry are doomed. Harry is sweet and simple, Pru will take advantage of him. While the Dankworth fortune is sizable, it is not so sizable that it can withstand Prudence's spending and inheriting the debt remaining on the Featherington estate."

"That your daughter's are completing to inherit that debt, should tell you everything you need to know. Yes a son will secure the title of Baron but it will also inherit the mess Papa and Jack made. If either of my sister's had sense they would pray for a daughter. If you had sense you would remarry and wash your hands of papa's mess. That is why I have finally entered the marriage mart. I am looking to wash my hands of our family."

"You have never tried to help me succeed, mama. Everything I am, I am in spite of you. Perhaps you were trying to make me strong? I doubt it though you are not a long term planner. You love me. I know this but you do not like me. That is fine. I feel the same way. We do not have to play pretend with each other, mama. We are adults."

Her mother remains quiet after that. She knows she has broken something irreparable between her mother and her. However they have been broken for years. Why should she be the only person to carry that burden?

She has carried the Featheringtons far enough. She has kept them off the streets. The more she thinks on it the more she realizes that the money she has set aside for her mother is unearned. Why would she leave almost half her earnings for her mother to spend on tacky gowns? Let her mother count on her son in laws or let her remarry.

She has worked hard to secure her future. Why the hell would she leave behind half her fortune? No. She isn't leaving anything behind. She has already done more for them, than they ever did for her.

[rainyamidala]

Leon kennedy one shot

authors note; this is rough, finished in like 10 minutes. i havent read over so please forgive any grammar mistakes.

I am not american, my mother tongue is NOT english!!

she/her used. will continue to be used unless requested otherwise.

theme; Leon S. Kennedy has spent the last weeks in bars, or in his couch - heart broken over the fact that his alcohol issue has cost him his relationship. On cloud nine, he calls y/n: drunk.

warning; alcohol

Leon S. Kennedy didn't feel the pride he once had all those years ago, when he had first arrived in raccoon city as a brand new police officer - hoping to make a change.. Be part of something bigger and serve a purpose. No, he didn't feel the pride in his badge any longer there he sat in a bar for the 4th time this week. The other 2 days he had spent drinking alone in his apartment, the last and final he had spent in bed sleeping the alcohol off. Normally he wouldn't spend every day of the week drinking his last breath away, especially since this exact issue had cost him his relationship – drowning the pain with the cause of the split. stupid, but alcohol was his only thing to turn to these days. Drunk, feeling like he was on a cloud with his arms giving in, he was walking home from the bar - having been thrown out for a physical fight involving another customer. "Throwing me out, tsk.." He muttered to himself as he walked unsteady in the street - reaching his hand into his jacket pocket, successfully pulling out his phone and dialing a familiar number; y/n's. "mm, mm.." He said with the ringer, waiting for his ex-girlfriend to answer the phone. But – she never did. As the phone service began telling him to leave a message, he responded sighed - pinching his temple before he began speaking into the microphone: , "Hey, uh.. It's Leon." He said, despite the caller ID exposing this fact already. "It's been a while since we last spoke and i know you don't want to see me, but i can't stop thinking about you." He began

, uncertain of where this would continue. "You broke up with me because of my drinking and here i am calling you - drunk. Kind of funny, huh?" He chuckled short, almost awkwardly into the phone: did he seriously think that was worth mentioning? "I was hoping youd pick up your phone so i could hear your voice again - i guess you're sleeping." He sighed to himself yet again, looking over his shoulder with his phone still pressed up against his ear. It was ironic, even in this state he knew as such; begging for another chance whilst the problem itself was an active event? Right, she would totally listen to you, Leon. "Can we meet? Tomorrow? Talk about what happened, I' guess." There was an ounce of harshness in the ending of his sentence - not intentional, but it masked his embarrassment. When his (now ex) girlfriend had learned of his issue– or habit, like Leon would much rather label it – he was so embarrassed. Denying and yelling in the end, because he refused to admit he didn't have it under control: refusing to admit the bottle of alcohol in the cabinet was what he reached for those nights he couldn't fall asleep and y/n already had. "I miss you." He began, stopping in the street now and bringing his hand to his face - rubbing his temple as he continued with a low sigh; "a lot." Being without her, knowing she was (not mad but) upset with him made it even worse. she loved him, she just couldn't handle it. it was understandable, but unbearable. "So, please.. Just uh.. Call me back? Or text. Or both, they're both good. Just - something. Sorry I didn't mean to leave a whole audio book on your thing, bu-" he was cut off, the voice message not allowing him to speak any further than that. Leon looked confused at his phone, barely beinging it away from his ear. He had his eyebrows furrowed, and his mouth opened ever so slightly as he looked at the screen and then brought the phone back to his ear - opening his mouth again: "Son of a bitch." then closed it with a harsher sigh than before. He caught himself acting like a teenager, rolling his eyes a tiny bit as he shoved his phone into his pocket and began walking again.

[amaurotine-daydreaming]

Prompt 11 - Surrogate

Oh, he was here. Finally, finally, he was here.

He even looked a bit like her Erichthonios.

And when this man inevitably reached out for that black stone - for her - Athena reached back. Just a touch completed the embrace, and the Heart of Sabik swallowed them both in loving, umbral black.

–

The moment Athena staggered into that glimmering river of souls that was the Underworld, the body that housed her collapsed like a doll with its strings cut. 

A few mental prods from Athena determined that, for the moment, this vessel would no longer obey her because it simply could not. How inconvenient. It was clear its capacity had atrophied over the eons without her hand to mold it. But it certainly was the one she had made, had pulled from her own body like a rib or a bit of organ.

No matter. She just needed a little more clay for it to hold her essence and bend to her will, and such clay existed in abundance in the river all around her.

The Heart of Sabik anchored her against the pull of the Underworld when she left the protective confines of her mortal anchor. Drawing upon the Heart’s power made an easy task of pulling enough aether to stitch together a temporary body of her own.

And how good it was to be able to move of her own volition once more, to finally again wield the masterful tools she needed–her own two hands. Athena lifted them, stretched her reach unto the heavens as she flexed and curled in her fingers one by one.

She had never been one for idleness.

– 

Athena flicked through the memories of her vessel-to-be. It called itself Claudien and was a researcher of somewhere called Sharlayan, but what mattered was that his recollections were tremulous and easily overwritten–a pale moon to her radiant sun. No need to potentially harm the integrity of the body by purging it of memory and will; Athena could merely etch herself overtop them. 

Behind Athena, the aether shifted, trembled, and settled. 

“Yes?” Athena said, tilting Claudien’s chin up as it started to droop. His eyes were half-open and his pupils were subtly trying - and failing - to bring the world into focus. 

“Athena,” her visitor said. “I have delivered your message, as you bade.”

“And more besides, hm?” she replied, tucking some of Claudien’s hair behind his ear. “I have been open and honest in my intentions from the very start. There was no need to play the harbinger–just the herald.”

“You did not forbid me from doing otherwise,” Themis observed.

Athena smiled into her vessel’s vacant face. “No, I did not. Precise work requires a delicate touch. Something as uninspired and brutish as attempting to bludgeon you into full compliance would have been a waste of time and energy for us both.”

She began to circle behind the vessel, her fingertips brushing one shoulder. “It is important to give a caged concept sufficient freedom for it not to test its leash—or, ideally, for it not to be aware one is even ‘round its neck.” 

A shadow fell over Themis’s face. “A technique you have employed on those around you, and on Erichthonios in particular.”

It wasn’t quite a glare, that look her displeased accomplice gave her, but it was close enough to spark a small thrill for Athena. Every little tell was information she could potentially use, each little give in his expression possible leverage in the future. She cataloged it all. 

“Forgive my bluntness, Athena, but his life is his own, and not yours to do with as you please–to say nothing of Claudien.”

Athena smiled condescendingly, as she would at a naive child. “I created Erichthonios. I suffered the agonies of childbirth to bring him into this world. It is my right.”

“He has his own soul, his own mind.”

“And? As shapers of this star, we tinker with such things all the time.” Athena appraised Themis archly. “You are not ignorant of this—and if you were, your journey through Elpis on the way to Pandaemonium should have enlightened you.” 

She returned her attention to her vessel, adjusting his posture - the set of his shoulders, the turn of his head - with brisk little movements. “Erichthonios would have become reliant on you. A dull, clumsy, witless burden. And here I am, willing to relieve you of him.” 

Themis fairly bristled with reproach. “Never was he a burden. Erichthonios deserved naught less than to be free from the shackles of his own self-doubt - a self-doubt you fostered and let fester - and allowed to live his own life.”

“Shackles. What a curious word choice,” Athena purred back, her blue eyes as cold as a frozen sea. “I knew his heart, I knew his soul. A few encouraging words, a tincture of your aether, and you were well on your way to undoing the influence I had over him. But he was still far too meek to divulge his feelings.”

It reminded Athena of a dagger’s blade cleanly separating meat from bone, the way Themis’s lips parted. He looked startled. For the supposed embodiment of the star’s neutrality, he could be read quite easily, and Athena pursued the opportunity as a hound would a hare. 

She snaked one arm across her surrogate vessel’s chest, placing her hand just above the left pectoral. “Such a fire you lit in his breast. Right here,” she tapped over its heart, dimpling the white fabric, “I could feel it. He would’ve done anything for you, and had no small attachment to that ‘familiar’ as well.” 

Athena rested her head on the vessel’s shoulder. “He was beginning to hunger for your praise, your presence, your smile over mine.” Her lips pulled back in contempt. “Witless fool.”

Themis said nothing. His lips were set back in a firm line.

Athena sighed and lifted her head from the vessel’s shoulder. 

“I could not allow that to continue, you understand,” she said. “A few whispers that surely he would be rejected were he to speak his feelings were sufficient.” 

Ah, and there it was–another waver in Themis’s face, too fast to solidly identify with any certainty except that it was most assuredly vulnerable. With the luxury of time, she would have picked it apart and learned what exactly those feelings were and how deeply they ran, but she was a busy woman.

Instead, having found its original mark, the hound sunk its teeth in a little further. 

“It was by design that I made Erichthonios susceptible to flattery and manipulation,” Athena said, stroking Claudien’s hair. It was as unruly as it had ever been, and a bit longer than Erichthonios would’ve worn it. “But his weakness must serve my purpose, and no other’s.”

“That shadow Hythlodaeus sensed…”

“Merely a little imprint on Erichthonios’s soul, so we could find one another again. How troublesome that it was observed and excised,” Athena placed a tender kiss in straw-colored hair, “and yet no matter. The soul crystal Erichthonios made to preserve his memories did just as well.”

“You truly have never seen Erichthonios as aught but a surrogate for your ambitions. What a terrible disservice to you both.”

Themis didn’t even seem aware that he had taken a half step forward. He remained there, but the aether around him subtly agitated. Athena shook her head–to think that he had been chosen as a neutral party for the star’s state of affairs. She would do far better, once all was said and done.

“I will carve myself onto his soul, supplanting all else,” she told Themis, enjoying the way his gaze burned in response. “Let that fuel your fight—the desire to save him. I need you at your very best if I am to learn what I require.”

[faegoddessog]

Woman in Red CH 17/17

Chapter 17: Saying "I love you"

Series Summary: She's a very successful woman who can't seem to find a partner that can keep up with her. He is just wanting to find someone who likes him for HIM, not his fame. Neither of them are prepared for what hits them when she walks into that coffee shop.

Chapter Warnings: reconciliation, Unprotected PIV (play safe ya'll!), cunnilingus, ropeplay

A/N: In this story, I make no mention of birth control or condoms or STI's. Please, darlings, please love yourself enough to protect yourself appropriately when you have sex. <3

US suicide prevention, and International suicide prevention hotlines. Please reach out if you are having suicidal thoughts.

Message me or leave in a comment if you'd like to be added or removed from my tagged list!

@purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

Here is the Woman in Red Masterlist

Here is the link to all my posted work: My Dirty Little, and not so little Stories.

Thank you, darling readers, for sticking with me on this! I'm sorry I left you all hanging for longer than I planned. The last few chapters were a struggle. But we made it!

Chapter 17: Saying "I love you"

She can barely believe it’s him, that it is Austin. 

They stare at one another, she in disbelief and him in apprehension, both rooted to the spot.  

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three. 

“Um, she called me,” he says lamely. It is enough, enough to break the stand off and to break the dam that she has been trying to hold back. 

“Oh Austin, I’m so sorry,” her tears well up and over her cheeks. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, that I denied us. I know it’s too late, but -”

She wants to tell him but her knees begin to buckle with the weight of everything. She is suddenly wrapped in his arms; strong, warm, loving. 

“It’s not too late,” he whispers, “ Aya, how can it be too late?” 

“How can it not be too late?” her mind whirls into old patterns. “You don’t know!” she gestures to the open apartment. 

“Aya!” he holds her head with both hands, tilting her wet face up to him, “I’m here aren’t I? How do you think I knew how to find you?” 

Putting the pieces together, realization dawns on her.

“Dal,” she says quietly. 

“She told me weeks ago, the day we fought. Don’t be mad,” he quickly interjects. “Aya, what Antoni went through was terrible, the pain he caused you is unimaginable.” 

Aya’s eyes close tight, as though she could shut out the memories flooding through the open door.

“Austin, I just.. I don’t want you to….“ she is stumbling on all the pent up guilt, ”I don’t want to ruin you.” As she hears herself, she knows it sounds absurd, but she doesn't know how to say it, how to convey it. 

“Look at me,” he says to her in a soft voice. 

She opens her eyes to his azure pools. 

“I’m not him. I’m not. I would never do that, not to you or to anyone I love,” he takes a breath, “and do I love you.  I love you Aya, and nothing will change that. Nothing. Not that you ran away, not that you couldn’t tell me, not even that you fucked that guy. I still love you, I still want you.” 

She blinks. For a second she had forgotten what they had fought about. She had been so wrapped up in her own past 

“Oh Austin, I’m such an idiot, I should have told you then, but my stupid ego,” she shakes her head, “I couldn't go through with it. Yes, I had contacted him with that intention. I was going insane with wanting you, but not allowing myself to really have you. I thought fucking someone else would help. But after he kissed me, literally right after that picture was taken, I called it off.   All I could think about was you. I didn’t even know what to do. I’m so sorry Austin, for everything.”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m the idiot, I just assumed. I’m sorry,” he is all at once relieved and dismayed. 

“No, no, don’t you dare say you are sorry.  Considering my track record, it’s what I would have assumed too,” she puffs out a weak giggle. 

He just holds her to his chest.

“Si si, you two idiots,” they hear a deeply accented voice from the hall behind them.  They turn to see an old man and woman standing holding hands. How long they had been there, they didn’t know. Long enough, clearly.

“Is how goes,  love is idiots.” The old man says, smiling at them.

“My idiot” the old woman says, squeezing her husband's hand and looking at him with love. She glances knowingly at them before they walk hand in hand down the stairs. 

Aya and Austin turn to each other, both slightly shocked to have this intimate moment witnessed with such wisdom. Austin cracks a smile first, shaking his head and laughing softly. 

“C’mon, you don’t have to face this alone. I’m here for you,” he laces his fingers through hers and gestures to the open door. 

And he was.

Antoni’s paintings were still in the studio. His palate was covered in blobs of dried paint, but his brushes were meticulously clean. Aya cried when she saw them. They were the last things he had touched with reverence and love, no doubt.  Austin held her through it all, figuratively and literally. Listening when she needed to talk, holding space in silence for her when she wanted to be quiet. He didn't ask questions, he was merely present for her. 

When she was done, they started back to the hotel, hand in hand. Both of them spent on the emotions of the day. 

“Hungry?” she asks

“Starved,” he looks down at her. She can’t help but wonder in what way he means.

“Hmm I think there is a little trattoria on the next block,” she suggests.

“Hmm, I think we should order room service, it’s been a hard day” he clarifies, squeezing her hand. 

“We should be soaking in Firenze,” Aya says with a perfect Italian accent. “Let’s at least get some gelato on the way.” 

“Hunny I just want to soak you in” Austin says, eyes only for her. “We can think about Firenze tomorrow,” his actors voice a perfect mimic. “That is, if it’s ok that I stay with you tonight.”

“Please do, I don’t want to be alone,” she leans her head on his shoulder as they walk the narrow cobblestone streets. 

She plops down on the couch in her suite, fingers grazing over the green velvet of the couch as Austin calls Luca’s and orders a pizza margherita, caprese, mixed salad  and the tagliatelle. 

“Get the flan, it’s so good!”  Aya says. 

“We’ll have the flan and the chocolate cake as well.” 

He orders a bottle of the Vino Nobile di Montepulciano to go with it all. 

“My treat,” he said sitting down next to her. 

“I’m sorry to put you through all this,” Aya says, waving away his offer to pay. 

“It’s ok, I like ordering room service,” he says seriously, pulling her into his embrace. 

“No-” she looks up into his grinning face and puffs out a laugh. 

“I know, Aya.  It’s a part of you and I know it’s going to take more than an afternoon to work though.” His eyes soften and his breath swells his chest, “I meant it when I said I love you. Hunny, you are worth it, just don’t shut me out again. I don’t think I could bear it.” 

“Yes Sir,” she said without thinking. 

His eyebrow lifts. 

“Hmm, are we going there right now?” 

“No,” her eyes go wide, “no sorry. I just mean-”

“I know what you meant,” he suppresses a little smile, “I wouldn’t play those games right now anyway. You’ve had enough emotional stripping for one day.” 

“For a whole week is more like it,” she counters.

“A whole month, between us,” he wrinkles his nose and nods. 

“I wish we had a month, Austin, to just stay right here.”

“We have all the time in the world, Aya, all the time.” He pulls her close, kissing her forehead. 

After their meal they curl up on the couch. His arm is around her and she snuggles into his shoulder and laces her fingers in between his own. 

“You are amazing, Thank you for sticking around,” Aya says with a big sigh.

“You need to thank Dalia, without her we’d have never gotten this far,” Austin kisses her forehead. 

“Oh shit! She must be worried out of her mind, I haven’t texted her yet!” Aya picks up her phone and sends a message to her best friend:

-You are the best friend a girl could have. Austin is here with me. We are good now. We went to the apartment. I’m ok, just worn out. Thanks for having my back. I owe you something amazing. You decide and it’s yours. I love you.

Dalia immediately texts back:

-I love you too.Glad you are ok. You don’t owe me anything,  just do me a favor and don’t let Austin go, he’s a keeper. 

Aya snorts out a laugh, and shows Austin. 

“She’s not wrong, I am a keeper,” he says with feigned smugness, then smiles and hugs her tight. 

“I’m not arguing, not one bit. I’m gonna work on being better,  I didn’t realize just how shattered I was under the surface,” she says, head bowed into the space made by his arms and chest.

He gently tilts her chin up to look at him. Just his gaze makes her eyes brim. 

“Sweetheart, we are all broken in some way. The way I see it, we can leave our pieces in shards that still cut us, or we can let love do a little Kintsugi and make us even more beautiful than before.”

“How on earth did I find someone so perfect,” a tear escapes down her cheek. 

“Well you walked into a coffee shop and captured my attention so thoroughly, that I’ve not been able to think of anyone else since,” his thumb catches the tear at her jawline. Then his lips are gently on hers. 

It’s a simple kiss, the first kiss either of them have had in weeks. It’s the first one that really meant more. So much more. It takes her breath away. 

He can see how tired she is as he pulls away. He snuggles her in, holding her, protecting her, loving her. Her breathing slows and deepens within a matter of minutes. 

Aya wakes to find herself naked and in bed. She doesn't remember going to bed or taking off her clothes. She hadn’t drunk THAT much wine, had she? 

She turns to see the shape of him in bed next to her. On his back, the messy blonde shock of hair and his beautiful profile are silhouetted by the bare early morning light from the window. His muscular arm is tossed over his head. She must have fallen asleep in his arms and he had to have carried her to bed. In the quiet, liminal space between night and morning,  when the noise in her head is still,  she finally lets herself feel her love for him, it’s overwhelming. She never thought she’d feel this way again.  She slips over next to his warm body, curling alongside him. Without waking, his arm automatically closes over her and with a sigh she falls asleep again. 

Austin wakes to find her curled next to him when the sun is just creeping into the room

He had held her sleeping form on the couch for over an hour last night. He was processing all that had happened; from the worried call from Dalia the night before to the nerve-wracking train ride that morning. It had been hard to not feel frantic on his flat out run to the apartment, his long legs eating up the 1 kilometer in about 6 minutes. 

He marveled at the perfect timing of his long weekend with Aya’s call for help to Dalia, and the fact that he was so close.  It was as if the Universe itself was rooting for them. With a yawn and a little shake of his head, he had scooped Aya up and carried her to bed. She didn’t wake at all when he had stripped her clothes off and tucked her in. 

Now he spends a moment looking at her on his chest, wondering if her face shows her age. He still has no idea what it is, not that it would be hard to find out, it’s just that he doesn’t really care. She is so beautiful just the way she is.  She is his now and he’ll never let her go. His hand trails lightly up and down her back.  

She stirs, draping a leg over his and snuggling closer.  Still asleep,  her palm drags down to his stomach, lightly brushing against the tip of his morning cock. He quietly hisses in a breath as she lays her hand on his hard shaft, fingers curling under gently. His hips involuntarily flex upward against her. 

He quietly blows out a breath, telling his mindless cock to chill out. Sex was not on his agenda this weekend. In fact he doubted that Aya would be willing, given all the revisited trauma. 

He was wrong. 

After a few minutes, he feels her ribcage expand with a deep, waking breath. Her hand  grips him before moving and curling up onto his chest. She comes fully to consciousness with the ghost of… something in her hand. She doesn't remember what, but something hard. The previous day floods back into her frontal cortex.

The emotions of stepping foot into her previously evaded past.  The release of years of pent up fear and guilt. The catharsis was palpable, the relief more than she thought possible.

And right beside her, though it all, was Austin. 

Her Austin. 

This man, right here.

Austin’s skin under her hand, 

Austin’s warmth along her body. 

Austin’s smell in her nostrils.

Austin’s heart beating under her ear. 

His heart, his beautiful, caring heart that she almost broke. For a second she is nearly swallowed by guilt, nearly shies away from him yet again. Old habits can die hard. ‘Name it, claim it, tame it’, she can hear her therapist saying. 

She sees her feelings and reactions, she sits in them in the quiet. She thanks them for keeping her safe then, but now they are not serving. Time to let it the fuck go. Baby steps, baby steps. 

But what to fill the void? Aya needs… she needs…

“Austin?” her voice is quiet, just in case he is still asleep. 

“Hmmmm,” his voice rumbles under her ear, obviously awake. 

“I know this might sound weird, but would you be willing to make love to me?” her tone is demure. She wants to give him space if he needs it.  “You don’t have to now, I understand if you don’t want it, want me right now, after everything.  It’s just, well, it’s been a long time since I’ve let someone really make love to me.” She put him through a lot and she’s doubtful that he’ll want to jump back into sex right away. 

She is wrong.

Austin, tilts his chin down, brows furrowed in worry.  This doesn’t sound like her, to be timid or even a little nervous about sex.

“Aya,” his voice is serious. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I wanted you through it all. Like I’ve said before, I can’t imagine not wanting you.” 

“Really?” Even now?” She lifts her head to look at him. “After all the-”

“Yes now,” he says with surety, “yes always. But are you ready for that, because I can wait until you are,” his face is soft, loving.

“I think I need it, I need you. Need to start, like, re-coding that part of me somehow.” 

“Oh hunny, “ he holds her close, “of course. But are you ready now?”

Her hand drifts down to his cock again. The deliberate and familiar feel of him in her palm as she wraps her hand around his hard shaft kindles a fire in her belly. She looks up at him with eyes like he’s never seen on her before. She is open, vulnerable, yet he can see the heat rousing in their depths. 

“Definitely,” the word comes out as a percussive exhale. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs from her. 

In one fluid motion she is rolled over on her back and he is between her legs, propped up on his hands at the top of a push-up.  Slowly he descends to wide knees, tucking them under her thighs. His eyes soak up the vision of her under him again.

“I love you, Aya,” he says against her lips just before he brushes them with his own. He kisses up her jawline to just below her ear. He inhales the scent of her, before  continuing down her neck and across her collar bone. He lifts his head to look at her. Her eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, neck turned slightly to give him space. 

“Did you hear that? I love you, Aya.”  he says low in his chest. 

Her eyes drift open to his, not concerned or waiting,  but cast upon her with such tenderness, it makes her heart yearn. Her chest imperceptibly arches towards him. 

She frowns a little, “I did, and I -” 

“Shhh,” his finger to her mouth, “I’m not fishing to hear it back. I’m reveling in saying it outloud to you.” 

She gives him a contrite smile. She knows just how evasive she had been. How thoroughly she had shut him down at every turn. Now she watches as he unfurls his heart before her. It weaves a magic that she had forgotten. 

“I love you,” he kisses her smile. 

“I love you,” he kisses her throat.

“I love you,” he kisses the center of her chest. 

He leaves behind a soft trail of kisses and whispers as he descends, sitting back on his heels.

Aya’s inhales shake, her exhales are audibly soft. Every contact of his beautiful mouth is a wholly sacred thing. Every word breathed into her skin is healing, knitting her rent self back together bit by bit. 

Little does she know that the same is happening for Austin, each oral repetition strangely soothing and igniting all at once. 

His last kiss lands just above the vault of her clit. He glances up to her watching him. 

His long tongue emerges and he draws it up along the seam of her lips. Closing gently at the top of her slit. His tongue and lower lip lazily drag along her again, closing this time with just a little suction. Over and over again he laps, reveling in the feel of her on his tongue. Her breathy ‘ohs’ float on the air above him, adding to the slowly rising energy. 

“Come up here,” she says after a few minutes, tugging gently on his messy morning hair. 

He disengages from between her legs and glides up her body. He smiles gently as he pauses to run the tip of his tongue over a nipple before pulling it into his mouth. Her hands comb through his hair before pulling his face closer. Warmth surges to her belly from the suction. 

“What do you need, my love,” his azure eyes are jewel-bright above hers.

“You, I need you Austin,” she palms his jaw as a smile lifts the corners of his mouth, “every inch of you.”

Her legs twine around his, her arms around his shoulders and neck. Her belly arches up into him. She wants as much of him touching her as she can manage. 

Then he is kissing her and the space between them evaporates.  His tongue gently probes her lips apart before dipping in to meet hers. She opens to him, her mouth, her arms, her legs, her heart. 

His hips, chest and belly  press to hers in full body contact, skin to skin.  His cock is caught between them, his tip leaking onto her belly. 

She breathes him in, holds him close. 

“Are you wet enough?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose to hers.

“You were the one down there last, you tell me,” she quips. 

“Mmm, silly question,” he glances away with that shy-boy face, biting his lower lip, “you are always wet.”

“For you, yes,” her voice laced with sultry tones. 

The corner of his mouth turns up as he looks back at her, heat in his eyes. This sounds much more like her, libidinous and sexy. 

His hips lift high, dragging his hard cock back over her mons and along her lips. He works himself up and down her slit with just the rolling motion of his hips. His precum mixes with the definite moisture he finds bathing her inner lips. 

Of course she is wet enough. She has Austin skin to skin with her, hard and wanting her, wanting all of her.  Her hips roll in concert with his, never letting go of his gaze. Her  hand on the back of his neck.

Finally his head nudges its way to her entrance. He pauses leaning down to kiss her lips gently. They stare at one another, the slow burn intense as he fills her inch by inch, going deep and to the hilt.

They stay there for a breath, two. It’s as if the connection of their bodies, hearts and eyes opens some kind of channel and she can’t hide a thing. It’s overwhelming.  

“Oh Austin, I missed you,” she can feel the tears threatening to spill. “I’m so sorry I ran babe.” 

“Shhh, I forgive you,”  his hands cradle her face. 

“I almost lost you though,” her torment rising in her chest. She couldn't bear the thought. 

“But you didn’t, and now you can’t,” he says simply.

His words strike like a blacksmith hammer on an anvil with her heart the ingot of molten metal between them. Sparks fly as she sees him for what he really is; magnetic, angelic, radiant. Suddenly she feels as if she is bigger than her body, an all encompassing  expansion that starts at her chest and travels through her and into him. This is what it means to love and be loved.

“I love you, Austin,” the words finally flow off her tongue, words she hasn’t said in a long, long time. They feel so good to say. 

Austin breathes in her declaration like the sweetest perfume. He hadn’t thought he needed to hear those words, not yet at least, but oh lord they feel so good coming from her mouth.  Here was a woman who, from the beginning, has seen him as just him. Never once had she doted on him for his fame. He had witnessed her dark night of the soul and she loved him, just him as he is.  He had waited, ran and fought for her. Through it all, his love for her was his guiding beacon. He doesn't need to say the words back, but his body does. 

Agonizingly slow, his hips tuck and roll into her, her knees moving with him as he pushes his cock into her again and again.  He sees the red start to rise up her neck from her chest. 

Briefly, he considers stopping, edging her to orgasm. But today is not the day for stopping, not for teasing, not for taking away. Today is about giving. The giving of himself to her and her to him. It’s about adding them together to make something more than the sum of its parts, something magnificent. 

He steadily plunges in and out of her, until her eyes roll back as she arches into him, her mouth open in a soundless scream.  It undulates her spine under him, he slows his motion to witness her cumming. 

“Mmm, hmm,” his appreciative moan resounds in his chest. 

It hadn’t taken long for her to get there. It washes over her like a gentle wave, bathing her in light. She opens her eyes as her orgasm sends shivers over her shoulders and down her body to find him watching her.  She blows out a breath, two, three. A smile begins to form on her lips. The words ‘thank you’ begin to make their way from her brain to her mouth. 

“Again,” he demands before she can utter a word. His lips are on hers as his hips take up their motion once more, faster. 

His tongue dancing in her mouth, his full lips dragging against her own are just fuel to her fire. Her first crest was soothing, tender, and healing. This one is heat building up to a crescendo. 

Austin is metering out his thrusts in an effort to keep his desire in check. He can keep this angle and pace up for a while, but having her responsive body under him is beguiling. He can’t help it when his hand roams over her torso. Balancing on the other elbow, he draws lines up her ribcage to knead her breast. His forefinger and thumb close over her nipple, rolling and pinching just the teeniest bit too much in his excitement. He feels her pussy clamp down on him and he nearly loses it. 

Austin’s play at her breast is tantalizing. When his fingers grasp her nipple and squeeze, it shoots like electricity. The sensation riding that line between pain and pleasure. It’s the last straw.

“Yes! Yes! YES!”  Aya’s second orgasm surges unexpectedly through her body, 

“That’s it, hunny,” he slows his pace as much for himself as for her, “cum on that cock.” his voice is sweet and tender  

“Oh god Aus, i’so good,” she shakes under him as she begins to slide down from her pinnacle.

He barely gives her time to catch her breath. Watching her cum is like nectar to his arousal. His desire shifts into full blown passion. In the back of his mind he is in awe of his need for her. Emotion threatens to close his throat. 

“One more time baby, for me,” his emotions rasping against his throat. He pushes up to his hands above her, nearly pulling out. 

She is still in the margin of her orgasm, but she nods, reaching for him. She will give him anything he wants.

He drives into her with a soft groan. The angle hits them both just right. She nearly cums again on that single intense thrust.

Each hard in, his frenulum rubs against her cervix. Each draw out,  his glans catches her g spot. Her hand drifts down between them. Her fingertips circle her clit then rub fast and light. 

“Oh god, oh yes! Oh god, oh yes!” is her mantra.

Her juices flood from her as she arches. It hits her hard, her whole body spasming around the epicenter of their joining. 

Hearing the squishy sounds of his cock in her pussy as she cums sends him over the edge,  provoking him into mad, hard thrusts. He doesn’t slow, doesn't stop. His hips snap to hers. 

She reaches above her, grabbing the pillow, the headboard, anything to keep from disintegrating on his cock. His unrelenting pace of chasing his own prolongs hers.  It’s mind altering. 

With a final strong jerk of his hips, he groans, feeling his hot cum jettison in spurts into her. She can’t help from clenching down on him as she keeps cumming, her hips and pussy milking every last drop from him. 

With a final gasp, he settles on top of her as she pulls him down. His head into the crook of her shoulder. Legs tangled together, bodies sealed together by the light sheen of his sweat. 

Panting, they float on a sea of oxytocin and dopamine.

Together, in love. Finally. 

Epilogue: 

They each had to go their own ways after . He had about two months left filming, she had a ton of work to catch up on. She visited him any time he had more than one day off.  A few times, when he only had one day, he walked into his hotel room to find her napping in his bed. He loved those days, quickly showering and slipping into bed with her. On those occasions, they barely left the bed. 

She finally cleared out and sold the apartment in Florence. It made her feel like a new woman. She auctioned off Antoni’s paintings, all proceeds going to suicide prevention programs. Austin secretly bought the painting of her that hung over the mantel. He hung it in his house in Hollywood. He could feel Antoni’s soul surrounding it and frequently ‘talked’ to him about loving her. 

Aya  kept on seeing her therapist. 

She never again pushed him away, never again held back. 

Now she was wrapped in rope, floating in a headspace of submission. It was a full body diamond harness with a rope running between her legs.  He had taken time to carefully tie the knots along her sternum and belly. Wrapped the rope around her body with near meditative attention. Each pull through of the rope for a knot or a tie or a wrap vibrating the rope on her body. He had worked hard to get a knot perfectly above her clit but then split the rope on either side of her lips, making them pooch out. Carefully and lovingly he bound her arms behind her back with a simple elbow tie. 

“Will you let me tie you?” he had asked on one of those days spent in bed, “not now, but when I get back to L.A.?” 

She had consented, the memory of his dominance in Budva flooding her mind. And now here she was. She had thought it was all for the sex. But what she found as he bound her slowly and deliberately, was an energy of surrender. She found her body melting, calming and her brian going silent. She gave in to it, trusting him fully. 

When he was done, he didn’t fuck her hard, like she had imagined. He made love to her slow and sensually, making her orgasm break over her in soft waves. What really got her though, was when he was taking the rope off. It was just as erotic and more of a release than just the rope. He held her after, caressed her gently. He listened to all of her deep thoughts that came pouring out with some of the tears she still had to shed. She was amazed how therapeutic it was once she integrated all that had happened to her.  It brought them so close. 

When they attended a premiere, hand in hand on the red carpet, their relationship came out as official. The internet lost its collective mind over the pairing. When asked in interviews about his dating an older woman, Austin’s only comment was “Am I? You know, a gentleman doesn’t ask such a thing.” 

His smile said it all though. He was deeply in love with Aya. Soon after,  it went on the ‘no ask’ list. A few years later they were just another blurb in the tabloids about being a solid, stick-together Hollywood couple. There were rumors about when there would be the dulcet sounds of wedding bells.  Neither of them needed that, they had already committed to one another 100%.

[madworldmarvelareview]

my experience with extreme force shipping, anti lesbianism/sapphicism, and anti indigenous rhetoric on a roleplay server that claims not to perpetrate any of the above. 

i’m certain head mod summer will call this defamatory, as she did to the honest review (1 star) by my writing partner on disboard, so i’ve taken the time to include screenshots alongside my review below. any prospective members, current or past are welcome to message this account, or find me on discord @ dinahbabs.

marvelous mad world is a server that revolves around ass kissing the mod, summer, and her best friend, kelsey, while they berate you. the issues arise quickly when saying no, even nicely.. no is not an answer these two will accept, if they have their heart set on something.

to start us off, there was only 1 lesbian character on the server before i arrived, and i don't think they had any lesbian members. this will provide some context as we go along.

i first encountered lesbophobia when i didn’t want my lesbian (irene adler) in a throuple with a man (forge, married to mystique)— where the lesbian was treated as if she was an accoutrement to an m/f relationship, not a woman of her own. please note that i was never asked to be in this arrangement in any way, and i was also continuously told it wouldn't be an issue, i saw in character that two characters (raven and forge) were in a relationship (where raven says her heart has only room enough for him), leaving me open to do my own thing as the rules already state, and as one of the members confirmed in my dms. i was excited to go my own way and make something new.

the server's rules:

alt text: pressuring or manipulating others for ships or connections gets exactly 1 warning, and then a ban. absolutely no debate on this. you may ask, but do not under any circumstances pester, harass, or otherwise bug people about connections. no means no.

upon my exit, it was said that i “didn’t speak to the members in question” and went against server wishes. in the following screenshot you’ll see that i let moderators know i didn’t attempt to reach out yet because the person in question did not answer my past plotting dms, and the server policy clearly stated ships are free to create at your leisure as noted above.

before: pre acceptance screenshot.

after: summer lying about me asking to be told to speak to member kelsey, when i was accepted, knowing kelsey didn't answer. i reference here that i knew mystique was married, and made my other plans for a different ship.

member kelsey never answered my plotting dms, at which point i had made other plans, instead, she messaged me in character, which resulted in the following conversation between raven and irene:

irene telling raven she's moving on and did not have interest in a throuple.

when i conveyed my desire for my character to continue onto a new relationship, i was punished in and outside of character for doing so. 

where i make everyone clear i made other ship plans when i saw raven was married. (i would have told kelsey in dms, if she ever answered me, instead i noted their coparenting, that was shot down later.)

reaction from summer's forge: why would my lesbian character want a man in the first place?

reaction from summer's forge: irene never broke up a marriage, and sapphic characters are not property if you name a kid after them.

kelsey's raven and summer's forge reaction to irene not wanting to be their third?? i can't make this up.

mod summer's true intentions laid clear: irene never canonically said what was stated in the claremont run, raven hated forge after irene died, and raven/irene only recently defeating 40 years of homophobia to be together means nothing if summer can get m/f out of it.

the strangeness continues with anti indigenous behaviour, so much so that they named a child after my lesbian character (destiny), used a picture of an indigenous child, and coloured her pink/red, as if that isn’t added anti-indigeniety on display. 

indigenous child they coloured red.

later claiming to be purple after a review was posted.

hex coded proof, all red.

when i declined their ship, they said they were switching back to the child’s tribal name (the way it should have been!) “threatening” to refer to an indigenous child as her tribal name over a ship fallout feels so ugly. indigenous names are not a punishment. i replied to this blatant anti-indigenous and incel-like response with “my character would love that tribal name, actually!” to no response. 

proof of the change of name. after that, they only called this child "d".

that issue is further pressed with the demand of face claims, and yet mods use the wrong ethnicity or tribes for indigenous muses. it’s a shame with the amount of diversity, including a plethora of comic art, that they would not recognize that issue, and revert to art for characters that can’t be cast correctly. there is also a rule against problematic face claims but those with allegations of SA are still used as far as i can see. 

a few friends of mine were kicked the first day of pride, for a variety of things,

screenshot of the random group kick.

what i said back to it.

screenshot of the announcement after the group kick. two.

but the only ones i had anything to do was denying the mod and kelsey a ship, and asking for clarification about a comment made by another user. or maybe just being friends with them? who knows, since the ban message was for a group and not very specific. i remain not upset, since i stayed only to support my friends and am glad to be free of a place where female and non binary characters exist largely to be sexualized, but since there’s a one way narrative, it deserves to be cleared up as they beg their members for good reviews on disboard. 

the rules tell you not to only write ship things, but at least half of the server, if not more is all gratuitous and public (badly characterized, badly written) porn, or 2 line ship dialogue. all the conflict has been stripped away, and all that remains is love triangles, which the mod summer or member kelsey has placed herself at the center of for attention. thus, if your character if not in love with either’s roster, or are their “child”, you will be ignored and not privy to plots unless you invite yourselves to them. 

no villains are allowed, except the ones mod summer finds attractive, and then you have to stomach people writing rapists in group chats! lovely, and went dismissed when inquired about, since half of the villains on the ban list (like vulcan) have done less evil than the villains accepted (creed, canon rapist), or requested (like jason wyngarde, canon rapist). 

every other character by those two bears no resemblance to their canon iterations. 

mystique runs around calling her partner daddy, and is kelsey’s most sexualized character. she uses a black woman for raven while doing this, while her white roster is not treated the same. 

the server’s victor creed was said they removed SA from his history, but he threatens to seggsually assault mystique in a text thread. no action when this was brought up to staff, they said “raven wanting creed is a part of her marriage, so this (clearly worded SA threat while raven said no) was not actually SA. no offer to privatize the thread, or improvements on their tagging system to denote when there was blatant rape. 

server is also so low on lore knowledge they made jokes about scott summers and prof x having sex, as if prof didn’t meet scott as a minor aged child, and as if scott doesn’t see prof as a father figure! truly jarring to run a server without knowing base level info that results in grooming/incest jokes being made. 

when confronted with this triggering content, mods promised to implement a better spoilering and tagging system, and then never went ahead with it.  as of 6/19, has done nothing still.

the application demands a writing sample that showcases a lot of things, including dialogue, long introspection, but you won’t need it. the vast majority of what’s written here is 1 liner dms and smut. which really isn’t an issue, but if the average thread is two sentences, outside of their plot drabbles, which were admittedly nice by some members (when they made sense).

the server boasts two warnings, of which you will only receive none, if you nicely decline offers to ship with the mods. i would steer clear. the effort you have to put in to get approved is not worth putting up with the mods as they are. anyways big fuck you for trying to force me into a ship, expect my lesbian to be subsumed by your heterosexual pairing, and then be lesbophobic even after i left! lesbians aren’t side characters. you wouldn’t know that, or care, since i saw what you said after i left and it was heinous. as expected. 

as you can tell if you've been keeping up, i never had raven tell irene to fuck off. i was forced to say, in character, that irene was moving on, because member kelsey never answered dms.

lesbophobia post exit: one, two, three (discussing my writing partner's lesbian character).

so bad that they had to make an announcement about how lesbophobic their server was and how to behave. two.

classy party! on pride, to boot. no one in these screens is a lesbian, as you can guess, and the main perpetrators never apologized! not even to the server, who had to witness it all.

overall stop begging for server reviews, server likes, accept that you did things wrong, learn, private your server and enjoy your weird anti indigenous anti sapphic circlejerk! and never pressure people to ship again, you suck.

this next part is specifically for kelsey, who took it upon herself to be extra lesbophobic after my exit. no need to read unless you’re her. 

kelsey, you didn’t know i’d picked another ship because you never bothered to dm me back lol! not that i wanted to ship with you anyway after the way you treated me, and your atrocious characterizations, not just of mystique. i was also never demanded to contact you before apping, as evidenced below once more. 

link back to the conversation with gansey.

trying to accuse me of not reading irene comics (i have read all of her appearances over twice in their entirety), and that i didn’t “know her” feels nuts to come from a raven characterization with no depth except for her vaginal canal. maybe i just knew raven and irene well enough not to want to ship with a character written by you, whose most used words were “daddy” “fill me good” and who was so oversexualized as a black woman written by you, one as white as me, i felt so uncomfortable— and since i knew i’d read more raven than you ever will, would be wasting my time, and would derive no pleasure out of writing with a self insert. 

its bad when even your own friends joked about you killing your characters / banned you from doing it for attention when you weren’t getting enough. i’d tell you to log off and get some friends but get the sense keeping them would be a problem for you, you don’t seem like someone who puts the work into anything. 

your research about meg and i, who has only been writing for two years, confusing one sapphic for another, no doubt comes from your friend and server co mod “esther” formerly jackie, who was run off tumblr at least three times for derailing black lives matter discussions with white / personal issues and being anti romani, which she was in her server i was in too! she did a great job of pretending to hold herself accountable, but it all was told to us by a friend after. she’s now banned from a bunch of communities because of it. bet you didn’t know that, she’s tried to hide it quite well, but we all know who she is, and her life is largely a lie to rebrand after being run off multiple writing communities within the last 10 years. like you, she sexualized her characters that have been survivors of sexual abuse. i’m happy to be disliked by a person like that, and by you. 

i suspect you’ll continue to be friends with her because you’re twins, hiding behind online attention and praise because you’ll never have it in real life the way you dream of so badly, compensating by getting angry when someone doesn’t worship you. you crave the attention, and so i’ll make this the last time you ever get it from me. i’ll forget about you tomorrow, but you’ll always remember, won’t you? people like you always do. 

nothing but the best ahead,

liv

[themirokai]

The Bell Bird - Chapter 3

You'll need to start with Chapter 1, and then go to Chapter 2.

In this chapter, we learn what sort of help the Bell Bird requires.

Chapter is 2,301 words.

Read it below or on AO3.

~*~

Greg stepped back only when he saw Romer hovering behind Jenny Lindish and felt Mycroft’s hand on his arm. Mycroft stepped around him, walking stick in hand. 

“If you require my assistance, Ms. Lindish, then I believe the conversation should move to a more private venue.” 

Greg looked around. Other audience members were glancing at them, but it was difficult to take one’s eyes off Lindish, even if you didn’t think she was an assassin. 

“I quite agree, Mr. Holmes. I have a suite at the Langham Hotel, which should be suitable.” 

Behind her Romer scoffed, and she turned to look at him, then raised a manicured eyebrow. “Hm, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” She looked like she wanted to swallow him whole, but Romer just rolled his eyes. 

“Under the circumstances, it would be better for us to speak at my office, Ms. Lindish,” Mycroft said, pulling her attention back to him. 

Lindish’s smile did not recede, but did seem to freeze. “Am I being detained, Mr. Holmes?” 

Mycroft tipped his head to the side a little: a picture of innocent curiosity. “Whatever would I detain you for, Ms. Lindish?” 

Her expression became serious. “I can assure you that I have never done anything to provoke the British government’s ire.” 

“Excellent.” Mycroft’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Then a cordial conversation at my office will provide no difficulty.” 

Lindish gave a tight-lipped smile and a small nod. 

“I assume you’ll want to change out of that magnificent gown,” Mycroft continued, “and that will give Moon Moth the opportunity to ensure that you are not armed. She and her colleague will bring you to me when you are ready.” 

Lindish turned to Ahmad, her wide smile back. “You’ll be accompanying me to my dressing room, agent?” 

“Yes, and I’d advise against doing anything we’ll both regret,” Ahmad said, her expression bright and predatory in a way Greg had never seen before. 

“Well then, Mr. Holmes,” Lindish said, turning back to Mycroft, “I look forward to continuing the conversation.” She turned to Greg. “Goodbye, Detective Inspector.” She gave a little curtsey, and turned away. 

Outside the theatre a few minutes later, Mycroft sent a text message, and Agent Yang seemed to appear out of thin air, just as Lucy pulled up in the car.  

“Yang, I want you and Wilkinson to stay with Romer and Ahmad,” Mycroft told her. 

Yang frowned. “Sir? That leaves no one else on you. You’re exposed.” 

“I am aware of that. But Simmons is just going to drop Gregory off at the house—” 

“Like hell she is!” Greg cut in. 

“Gregory—” 

“You can’t just pull me into spying and then dump me at the house when it gets interesting!” Greg protested. “I’m invested now. I want to know what she wants. Plus,” Greg ploughed on, ignoring Mycroft’s sour look, “if you’re leaving your security behind, then we are absolutely going straight to your office. Together.” 

Mycroft took a deep breath and gave Greg an evaluating look. “Fine,” he said. “Simmons will take Gregory and I straight to the office, and between the three of us, I am perfectly safe. While I believe the Bell Bird has no ill intentions and would not risk doing anything untoward on British soil, I do want Ahmad and Romer to have backup in case I have read the situation erroneously.”

Yang hesitated, looking from Lucy, to Greg, to Mycroft, then nodded and opened the rear door of the car for them.   

____

When Anthea’s voice came through the intercom in Mycroft’s office to inform them that his guest had arrived, Greg half-perched himself on a windowsill behind and to the side of Mycroft’s desk. Mycroft glanced at him, then told Anthea to send them in. 

The door opened and Ahmad entered, followed by Jenny Lindish and Romer. Romer grinned when he caught sight of Greg and winked at him. 

Lindish was wearing emerald green stilettos, tight dark blue jeans, an emerald silk blouse, and a vibrant purple blazer. Her hair had been restyled to fall in long soft waves, curled at the bottom like a 1950s starlet. She was gorgeous. 

“Please have a seat, Ms. Lindish.” Mycroft gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. 

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes,” she said with a disarming smile as she sat. 

Ahmad and Romer remained standing behind her. 

“Now,” Mycroft said, “how can I help you?” 

Lindish took a deep breath and looked only at Mycroft. “My real name is Jenny Eskalia. My father was David Eskalia.” 

Mycroft’s mouth fell open with a gasp. “Oh. Oh my dear.” He leaned forward. “Of course. You have his eyes. I don’t know how I never noticed before.” 

“My father told me before he died,” she continued, “that if I was ever in trouble that I should come to you and you would help me.”   

Mycroft took a deep steadying breath, and even from the side Greg could tell that his eyes were damp. “Of course. Whatever is in my power.” 

Jenny was about to speak again when Romer jumped in. “Hang on. Who’s David Eskalia?” 

Mycroft glanced at Romer but held eye contact with Jenny as he spoke. “He was an American CIA agent. He saved my life. Twice. He was a good man and a good friend.” Mycroft closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked at Jenny again. “I mourned your father’s death and the fact that I could not do for him what he had done for me. How can I help you?” 

Jenny took a breath and drew herself up. “You’re well aware of my alternate career, otherwise you wouldn’t have sent Moon Moth to monitor me.” 

It wasn’t quite like her stage persona: a presentation, perhaps, instead of a performance, Greg thought. 

“Since I was a girl,” Jenny continued, “my father trained me in the art of spy craft. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps to join the CIA. And for much of my life that’s what I wanted too. He was killed when I was in college and I… I will admit that I used the skills he taught me to ends that he may not approve of.” 

She paused with a worried look at Mycroft. His fingers were steepled in front of his face, and he nodded. Jenny went on. “Once I had eliminated the person who had killed my father, I knew I wouldn’t be able to join the CIA, and I didn’t want to anymore. I liked the freedom of working for myself, and I wanted to pursue singing as well. Singing recitals is not a lucrative career, but as you are aware I supplement my income.”

Romer snorted. “That what you call it?”

Mycroft shot him a stern look and Jenny continued. 

“I can afford to be choosy about my targets. I only eliminate bad people. Crime lords, war lords, torturers, dictators. But the problem is that bad people often have other bad people who are invested in them.”

“It’s almost like being a murderer is complicated,” Romer muttered. 

Jenny ignored him. “A few months ago, I eliminated Eli the Spider, the head of the Silver Drivers.” 

“They’re currently running Las Vegas,” Mycroft said, presumably for Greg’s benefit. 

“Apparently, as part of his bid to seize power, the Spider’s second in command swore that he would have my head. And while the Silver Drivers only control Las Vegas, they also have access to the INS, so I can’t get home without being detected now that the border entries are equipped with the new facial recognition technology. That would be bad enough, but the Silver Drivers have also sent the Black Tornado to hunt me internationally.” 

“What’s the Black Tornado?” Greg asked. 

“An assassin who is much, much scarier than the Bell Bird,” Ahmad said. 

“To put it plainly, Mr. Holmes,” Jenny said, “I am cut off from many of my resources, including my home, I am up against a much more powerful foe and—” she swallowed, blinked hard, her eyes misty, "—and I am scared. I know my profession may be objectionable to you – or at least the fact that I ply it for myself instead of a government – but for the sake of my father I ask you to help me. Please.”

Mycroft took his handkerchief out of his waistcoat pocket and reached across the desk to hand it to her. 

“How do we know that you’re the boss’s friend’s daughter?” Romer spoke up. “You could just be some random assassin who found out about their relationship and is trying to use it now you’re up shit creek.” 

Jenny, having dabbed her eyes, looked straight at Mycroft. “Mr. Holmes has a scar the shape of a triangle on his right side. It is from an ice pick.” 

Greg inhaled. He knew the exact scar she was talking about, had traced it with his fingers many times as he held Mycroft. Mycroft had even told him it was from an ice pick, but hadn’t revealed any further information. 

“My father was the reason Mr. Holmes did not bleed to death on that mountain,” Jenny continued. “And he was the only person in the world other than Mr. Holmes who knows it. He would not have told anyone except for someone he truly trusted. Like his daughter.” 

“You could have killed his daughter,” Romer said. “Maybe even tortured her first.” 

Jenny turned in her seat to look at Romer. “You are very protective of your boss, Mr….” 

Romer smirked. “Yeah, like I’m giving you a name. It’s bad enough you know Moon Moth and Mr. Holmes.” 

She gave him a prim little smile. “Well, may I say that your dedication is admirable.” 

Romer sneered at the back of her head as she turned back to face Mycroft. “I will submit to a DNA test or any examination of my identity that you care to propose.” 

“She is who she says she is, Glasgow,” Mycroft said quietly. “David told me his daughter had a voice like an angel. And as I said, she has his eyes.” He looked straight at Jenny. “He was very proud of you.” 

“Sir!” Romer protested. 

Mycroft held up a hand to forestall further comment. “We will confirm with a DNA test. Now, Ms. Eskalia, it seems you have gotten in over your head. I have a way out for you, but it means giving up your career as a free agent and it means doing things my way. Are you willing?”

“Can I still sing?” Jenny asked tentatively.

“I would no sooner deprive the world of your voice than I would deprive it of the Mona Lisa,” Mycroft told her. “But you will be working for me. First—”

“Sir!” Romer cut in again. “You’re not seriously going to hire her! She’s an assassin! A murderer! We bring people like her down; we don’t work with them!”

“Agent Glasgow,” Mycroft’s voice was acidic, “A black and white view of who we can and cannot work with will serve you very poorly if you wish to be a successful intelligence officer.”

The devastation was plainly written on Romer’s face. “Mr. Holmes…”

“In fact,” Mycroft continued, “Moon Moth will be taking the lead on the operation I have in mind. You may go start on the written report from this evening.”

“But—”

“That will be all, Glasgow. Thank you.” 

Romer, looking utterly defeated, left the room, and Greg couldn’t help but follow him. 

“Peter,” Greg called once they were in the hallway beyond Anthea’s desk. 

Romer turned around, his expression resigned. “What do you want, Silver Fox?” 

Greg closed the distance between them. “You’re not getting replaced, kid.”

“What?” Romer said with a smile he clearly didn’t feel. “Who said anything about getting replaced?” 

“You’re jealous of the new kid,” Greg said. “It’s natural.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Silver Fox,” Romer sniffed. “You’re sounding just as crazy as your boyfriend in there who apparently is perfectly happy to work with assassins as long as they have a good enough sob story! I mean, we haven’t even ruled out that she’s after him! She could be attacking right now with only Ahmad to hold her off!” 

“You know,” Greg said, ignoring the outburst, “he said you’re his favourite.”

“What?” Romer reeled. “When? That’s not true.” 

“It is.” Greg chuckled. “That night when the Russians went after him and you got cut up? He was so worried about you when that fight was going on. Told me that he cares about you and you’re his favourite.”

Romer’s mouth hung open a little but he quickly schooled his expression. “Well, it sounds like he really cared about David Eskalia, too. Did you know about that?”

“No,” Greg said gently, “but neither of us are young. We both have people in our past. Hell,” he chuckled, “I’ve got an ex-wife.”

“Really?” Romer frowned. 

“Yeah. We were terrible at being married to each other, but I did love her.” 

“Huh.” 

Romer leaned against the wall, staring at the floor. 

“Your code name is Glasgow?” Greg asked after a moment. 

“Nah,” Romer looked up at him with a grin. “It was when I was in training, but I’ve got a proper one now that I’m a full agent. Boss didn’t tell her my real code.” 

“Go on,” Greg said, “tell me the proper one.” 

“‘S ‘Bloodhound.’” 

“‘Cause you’re good at finding people.” 

“That’s me.” Romer took a deep breath, looked away from Greg and back again. “You really think she’s on the level, Silver Fox? The Bell Bird?” 

“Yeah,” Greg told him, “I do.” 

Romer stared at the floor for another moment. Then, “He really said that? About me?” 

“Yeah, kid. He did.” 

Romer finally looked up with a smile. “That’s alright then.”

~*~

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 is now up.

[twentydaysofdrabbles]

Away from the Concierge's Desk - The Harbinger Cometh (Part 55)

In the minutes and hours since the Manager last saw her Concierge, she sits. Sits and thinks. Thinks about the bloodshed in New York, in Osaka. And if her sources are to be believed, Paris.

Where does it end. When the High Table extinguishes them all? Or when they prevail over the High Table? Or when all fighters have fought their last, with no life left to live?

So she sits. And thinks.

These machinations have put her on a path that she can no longer stray from. No doubt she and many others with her will suffer. But at the end of that suffering...peace.

Or, that's the goal anyway.

Surely she still has that goal in mind...right?

She couldn't possibly have lost sight of it.

Surely not.

She lowers her gaze to the report on her desk, written by her loyal Concierge. From this, she can see just what her Concierge faced. What Wick's presence had wrought.

Alas, she is not afforded any further time to consider the report. Not when the phone rings.

"Yes?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am," it's not her Concierge's voice, but that of another receptionist. "A Harbinger is here to see you."

Well, she knew this was coming.

"I shall receive them in my office. Please, send them up."

"At once, ma'am."

Papers and drawings disappear into drawers, pens into their holders, and she puts a kettle on boil. Just in time to hear the chime of the elevator, and the sound of the doors opening.

"Manager." Comes the slow drawl of a Harbinger's voice. One that is very, very familiar.

The Manager looks up to see a tall, broad man with a bald head and piercing blue eyes. "Ah, so you're the Harbinger." She smiles a wan smile, then. And raises a tea set. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

The Harbinger tilts his head, looks at her with those sharp, yet strangely empty eyes. "Certainly. However, you might decide there is little time for it."

Her heart stops.

"Hmm, perhaps not, then," she sets the tea set down and goes to her desk, standing by its edge, looking up at the Harbinger. "Well then, what are you here for?"

"A warning," he says slowly, raising his briefcase.

Her eyes go right to it. Too light to hold an hourglass, too heavy to just be a single missive.

He places it on the table, and slowly removes a sheaf of papers from it. It is bound with thread and ribbon as black as night.

"You have made your point," he says, placing it on the table, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Oh?" she says languidly, moving to sit, not even reaching for the papers. From the way the Harbinger closes his briefcase, he has no intention of taking it back.

"Your Concierge has made their choice to stand by your side. Despite the overwhelming odds. Despite their previous...discipline." The Harbinger looks down at his missing left ring finger, then looks up. "It was very obvious. The red outfit was an...interesting decision."

Red, the colour of blood. Of danger. Of warning. Do not touch me, lest you lose a hand. That was what the red clothes meant, or rather, is meant to convey. That the person who wore that red flag of warning was once a killer of renown, who despite their ruined hands is still incredibly lethal, is the entire point.

The Manager's way of conveying a warning with no words at all. She will tolerate the loss of one Hotel, but not another. Not without due cause.

Though to have only one individual carry out that warning...it was a gamble.

For the first time in this conversation, the Manager's eyes flick to the side. "Yes...the Devourer."

"If you wanted to make it obvious who your Concierge fought for, it didn't require the very...flashy choice of clothes. The same applies if the motivation was to send a message to the Marquis." The Harbinger sounds disapproving. "They are lucky to be alive. Thanks to their...compatriots."

The skeleton brothers.

At that, the Manager's eyes flare angrily. "Are you done?"

"No," the Harbinger tips his head forward to let the brim of it shadow his eyes. "Your decision to flaunt them, to display their loyalty in such an obvious manner. To use them as a message. In that way, you are no better than them."

Them. The High Table. The Elder. Men playing at being gods, making the world around them dance like puppets upon their strings. No. No, she will never be like them.

Soft little pops fill the air. The Manager clenches her fists tight, so tight as to crack her knuckles. "Now that..." she sneers dangerously. "Is an insult."

The Harbinger is not moved in the slightest, though the muscle in his jaw ticks once. "Think as you like. But you and that Monster Queen are playing a grand game...a game which you cannot win. So do your Concierge a favour, and release them before they are bound by that promise they made to you so long ago."

That promise...

Words spoken eons ago float through her head. Her memory of that day as clear as crystal.

"If you take up this position, you're binding yourself to them. You'll lose your freedom. You will abide by their rules. I have seen it...you will become like them." Her Concierge. Although, at that point, a disgraced, disfigured, Emissary.

"I will never become like them."

"That's not a promise you can make." Ever practical. Ever logical.

"...Fine. You want a promise I can make? Here. If I ever, ever stoop to their level, you can rip out my heart."

"You're not serious. But you told me that--" That the Devourer's days of ripping beating hearts out of the chests of their quarry was over. Their hands would never recover that monstrous strength.

But she had no doubt those hands will have strength enough for this one request.

"This is your one exception. The only person whose heart you can rip out while they still live? Mine. You can even eat it after, if you so desire, Devourer. But you will stop me. No matter what it takes."

"I don't actually eat it but...very well. I shall hold you to that promise."

And just like that, the memory fades. The Manager huffs a mirthless laugh, shaking herself from her reverie. "Releasing them will do naught. It is a promise I made, and it is a promise they will keep." She looks down at the sheaf of bound paper. Touches it. Draws it close. "What is this?"

"An intercepted report to the High Table." Comes the Harbinger's toneless response.

What? Hawk-like eyes flick up and look at a man who the Elder had bent to his will. Or so the world thought. "And what, exactly, are you doing with an intercepted report?"

Those strangely empty yet sharp blue eyes seem to warm, seem to fill with knowing, and the Harbinger smiles flatly. "Why, giving it to you. Of course."