#and then i thought ���what if i do the same thing but in his child form ...”

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Poly!141 x fem!Reader

TW: sexual content ahead, choo choo

Part 1

“Wake up, love.” A groan left your lips and you flipped over, burying your face further into the fluffy pillow beneath your head. “Five more minutes.” The dark chuckle behind you betrayed that it was John who was trying to wake you up. He rounded the four-poster, and you cracked an eye open, glancing at him “Do I really have to carry you downstairs?” Your lips twitched, and John immediately knew your answer. With a slight huff, he picked you up and carried you downstairs. He plopped down on the couch with you in his lap, as you cuddled up against him, your eyes closed again.

“Look at her, I think we tired her out too much last night.” Johnny chuckled, gently scratching your scalp and running his fingers through your hair. A pleased hum left your throat as you leaned into his touch. “Yeah, you hurting, pretty?” Kyle sounded concerned and you quickly felt his body heat behind you. “’ M fine.” The Sergeant chuckled, kissing your head, before standing up and walking away.

“Okay, time for breakfast, huh?” Your eyes shot open immediately and you glared at Simon, who stood next to the gigantic Christmas tree you had forced the boys to buy and put up. “No! You promised that we would open the gifts first thing if…if…” Simon grinned, his eyebrows raised as you began to grow bashful. “If what, love?” Your lower lip jutted out as you pouted. “If I were a good girl and took a few more…orgasms.” John chuckled behind you. “Look who’s awake now. Don’t tease her, Si. Let’s open the presents.”

And with that, the present marathon began. The guys got presents for each other and opened them one by one, thanking each other. They were usual guy gifts - alcohol, cigars, socks, etc. Things the others could use, but nothing overwhelming. By the time they were done, you had finally woken up enough to point to the presents you had gotten each of them.

Johnny was the first to unwrap his. It was an expensive sketchbook and art set he had been eyeing for some time, but never decided to buy. “Aw, bonnie. Thank you, I appreciate it.” You grinned. “Open it.” With a slight frown, he did as you told him to, his eyes widening as he saw what was decorating the front page. It was a beautiful portrait of the two of you. You had gotten his favorite indie artist to draw it for you and he even signed it. “No way!” With a giant grin, he jumped to his feet. “How did ya- no, when did ya-?” He jumped over the table that was separating him from you, not waiting for an answer. “You are amazing.” Still grinning, he bent down and pressed his lips to yours, keeping it chaste for the moment.

After Johnny pulled back, Simon reached for his present and ripped the wrapping paper off. He eyed the box for a few seconds, suspicious of its content, but finally opened it once you insisted that it was fine. To his surprise, he pulled out an old-looking camera, his eyes immediately jumping to yours the moment he realized what he was holding. “Where did you find this?” You shrugged, still wrapped in John’s arms. “Did some research. Is it the right one?” Still looking dumbfounded, he nodded. “Y-Yeah. It’s uhm…it’s the right one. Thank you.” You smiled at him, thinking back to when he opened up to you about his hobby when he was a child, how his mother had bought him a second-hand camera just so he could find some joy in life. You spent months trying to find the same model and make, and when you did find it, you knew it was the perfect present. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Simon was standing right in front of you until you felt his lips against your forehead. “Thank you, love.” A smile formed on your lips as you gazed up at him. “Of course, Si.”

Kyle was next and he made quick work of the wrapping paper, just like Simon. He grinned the moment he realized what it was and skipped over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Thank you, sweets.” It was a quiet mumble against your lips before he kissed you again and pulled away. Johnny immediately grew curious, trying to see what you had gifted to Kyle, but the Seargent quickly pulled away, hiding the present. You giggled as you watched Johnny chase Kyle around until the left the living room, both of them yelling at each other. Simon glanced at you, a slight frown on his face. “Do we want to know?” Still giggling, you shook your head, thinking about the different colored yarn balls and crocheting needles. He had confided in you not too long ago that he wanted to try it, but was too shy around the others. You just hoped that he would see the encouragement and take it up.

“What about me?” John gently squeezed the fat on your hips, gathering your attention. “Oh.” You pointed at a small, beautifully wrapped box and Simon handed it to you. With his free hand, he took it, turning it over as if trying to guess what it was. “Just open it.” With a dark chuckle, he did, quickly shredding the paper and frowning as he saw that it was a watch box. But when he opened it, the frown disappeared and his eyes widened. “Where did you find this?”

A few months ago, during an op, his watch broke. Usually, that wouldn’t be all too bad, better the watch, that can be replaced, than his hand or wrist. But the watch was ancient, vintage as he called it and it meant a lot to him. He didn’t act like it, but it broke his heart whenever he looked at it, hidden away in the top drawer of his desk. And it broke your heart. So, together with Simon, you scoured all different kinds of jewelry stores and online until you found the exact same model, working and in good condition.

John closed the lid of the box and pulled you even closer against himself. "Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips moving slowly against yours as his hand came up to cup your cheek. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. But before it could go too far, Johnny and Kyle came barreling back into the room. “I want a hat.” The Scot was grinning at the other male. “I’m not making you a hat.” Kyle shook his head, but the grin on his face betrayed him. You and John pulled apart, him looking annoyed while you just chuckled at the familiar antics.

“Oh? You guys done?” Simon nodded as Johnny and Kyle sat down again, a smirk growing on their lips. “So, now it’s time for her presents?” And oh, there were presents. From lingerie and jewelry to plane tickets for your dream vacation. By the time you had unwrapped and opened all of them, Simon and Johnny had disappeared into the kitchen to make breakfast. “You guys are crazy. That’s way too much!” John shook his head, squeezing you tighter against him. “Nonsense. You deserve so much more.” Kyle interrupted the Captain. “And some of this may be compensation for having to put up with Johnny.” Immediately, Scottish curses sounded from the kitchen, making you chuckle.

“Thank you, guys. I love you. All of you.” John pressed a kiss to your cheeks, Kyle matching it on the other side, before both of them pulled away, making eye contact. “There is actually one more gift, wait here.” Price shifted you from his lap and sat you down on the couch, before he and Kyle disappeared, closely followed by Simon and Johnny who left the kitchen and followed the other two soldiers. You were curious but decided to be a good girl and wait patiently. While doing so, you glanced over all of your presents again, a font smile tugging on your lips. You really loved these idiots.

Someone clearing their throat pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked up, finding the four soldiers standing in front of you, naked, safe for a pretty bow wrapped around each of their cocks. “Ready for your final present, love?” They all grinned at you and you couldn’t help but grin back. Hell yes, you were ready!

A/N: If you're seeing this, it means I can finally upload again! Yay! Idk why but Tumblr wouldn't let me upload the last few days, no matter what I tried it didn't work. But whenever this goes up, I hope I can go back to my normal schedule! Love you guys!

[thereallucifer666]

Lucifer smiled softly, amusement showing on his face. "Darling, you know exactly what I'm going to say." He pointed out gently. "It's the same thing I've always said, since the beginning of our partnership. You're working with the Devil, so you might need to get used to the strangeness."

But were they just working together now? Surely not. Linda had once asked him what he thought him and Chloe were and he couldn't answer at the time. Chloe, herself, was the one to clarify later after Father Frank's death that they were friends. But since then, things had clearly changed. Become more defined, and yet somehow more blurry and mysterious. Was it really okay to leave all this unspoken?

Lucifer felt himself growing nervous and agitated at these thoughts and so he took a leap and decided to do something he rarely did when confronted with a serious situation. He decided to talk about it, to let his feelings out.

Giving a small sigh, he moved to sit up, the movement prompting her to do the same so she could look at him. He hesitated for a few moments, trying to find the words, before he spoke, "You know, I don't know what to call us. What we've got going on between each other. And I find more and more I don't really care to define it. It's us, and that is enough for me. However, I...Well, I wonder what will happen between us when we return to L.A. I understand you have a career and a child and responsibilities that this between us could...complicate. So, if this is to end here and now, I regrettably understand but...," He paused, suddenly aware how hard and fast his own heart was pounding. "But...I don't want it to end."

"True!" Lucifer admitted blatantly. "However, I see the method to dragging me up here. No interruptions, no getting burst in by your spawn or your douche ex, very discrete. Oh, but I'm sure this was all just about the case." He was teasing, naturally. He wasn't exactly upset with how things had turned out. despite not having a name for exactly what they were to each other, he liked it all the same, whatever it was.

One of Lucifer's hands curled up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. That hand then settled on her shoulder, holding her close as he closed his eyes and just allowed this quiet moment of peace between them. They'd earned this. With all that went wrong with Malcolm and Lucifer being accused of murder, they'd earned this moment of quiet.

"No complaints from me." He hummed.

[sieveyourtea]

Born Archivist AU Wrap Up Post

Image ID below the cut. Art by @dcartcorner !

Series Summary:

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different...

...Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, is eleven years old when Mr. Bouchard comes to see him.

A massive thank you to you all. For reading, especially for commenting, and for all the support in getting this over the finish line.

If you're interested in reading or seeing more art, please check out the links below the cut. You do need an Archive account to read!

My ask box is open, I'd love to chat theories, questions, and thoughts anytime! Please don't be shy!

What to Know:

Child of Illumination is a fic series with three primary story arcs that follows John Sims from age eleven to his time as Head Archivist of Magnus Institute after being adopted by Elias Bouchard and Peter Lukas.

All three main arcs are rated T and suitable for those who can enjoy the same sort of content as in the podcasts. CW's are provided on individual chapters.

The Main Story:

Part One: Child of Illumination:

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different...

...Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, is eleven years old when Mr. Bouchard comes to see him.

Image Id at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Part Two: Shadow in the Hunting Grounds

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different.

Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, has lived with fathers for six years. Like for a lot of other young people, University presents a time for self-exploration, and a first occasion of being out on his own without someone...Watching quite so closely.

Image ID at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Part Three: Blood of the Covenant

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different.

Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, has spent three years working as a Lead Researcher at the Magnus Institute. For someone for whom home has had a less than solid definition, the Institute offers a chance for safe place for John to finally answer the questions that have followed him for as long as he can recall.

Being able to work alongside his father is simply an added bonus, of course.

Image ID at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Art:

COI wouldn't be what it is without the amazing artists who have brought it to life!

Official Scene and Summary art is by @dcartcorner who does exceptional work across the board.

Official Covers for all three main stories are by @sarcasticscribbles who's art is one of the reasons I started to engaged in fandom at all!

Official additional art of some choice scenes as done beautiful by @mxwhore who I cant thank enough for their amazing work!

Other creators who have made art related to COI include @obscuravoid, @the-awful-dread-that-leaves, @novae-viking, @basilikum7, @hemi-demi, and @moominmammaonhero1n!

Please, go and show them some love! I will post an Art-chive into the series on A03 as well to link back directly to all of the amazing work that's been made! If you've made something and don't see your name here, please let me know!

Additional Content:

Part of the fun of the series are the additional side fics. They cover a range of topics from John's interactions with various people, time spent with Peter and Elias, and the horror content that makes TMA what it is. There are all flavors, from G to E, and all can be found at the hyperlink above.

These are NOT necessary to understand the story and do NOT contain critical plot points. They're simply for fun! .

A special shoutout to @selinko for a lovely set of memes that absolutely made my day and continue to do so!

FAQ's:

The following are just some things that have come into my inbox the last couple of days in particular!

Can I make fanart of this story?

Sure! Please tag me, I'd love to see and spread the love!

Can I make other fanworks of this story?

Sure! Same as above, please tag me. I'd love to see and spread the love!

Will you be writing more?

I may do additional side pieces, but the main story is happily done. I have a total of 105 fanfics, 104 of which are Magnus if you're interested!

Can I send you questions/thoughts/songs/things that made me think about the story?

Yes, my ask box is open and there is an anonymous option. I will delete rude asks, but otherwise am happy to answer. Any spoilers, I'll put below a bar.

Image IDs:

Cover Art: A painting showing John Sims at the center, playing chess with an unknown opponent. On either side above him are Elias Bouchard, surrounded by books, and Peter Lukas, holding a stack of playing cards. Together, they hold a crown of gold and green eyes over John's head, framed by a spider-web window. At John's feet are three animals--a lion, a cobra, and penguin, looking up from a base of fire that shows Agnes Montague, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, and Sasha James respectively. 

First Cover: Cover Art of John giving a statement to Gertrude the portrait. He is 11-13 years old, wearing square glasses and talking to her as if she is an old friend.  

Second Cover: A family style portrait of Elias Bouchard (aged around 40), John Sims (aged seventeen to eighteen), and Peter Lukas (aged around 50) years old. 

Third Cover: John Sims and Peter Lukas are playing a round of cards. John is debating whether or not to be on this hand with chin resting in his hand. Peter is holding a 2 of diamonds and a 7 of clubs, considered the worst draw in Texas Hold 'Em. Elias Bouchard, with a faint green light around his eyes, watches from behind John's shoulder, the whole viewed over by a Portrait of Jonah Magnus with the same faint green light. 

Thank You!

Thank you all again for letting me share this story and journey with you. After one year and nineteen days of writing, I am very happy and rather proud to say the series is complete. It's my longest fanworks project by a mile and wouldn't have been possible without all of your lovely support.

With all the love in the world, Sieve signing off.

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

as the flowers bloom, my heart does too ⋆*·ﾟmisa x putellas!femreader, social media au, (17/17)

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when your relationship ends and all you want to do is hide and cry, flowers suddenly start to appear on your doorstep.

or; misa hating to see a pretty girl cry and suffer and going out of her way to cheer her up while staying anonymous

fic: see my masterlist

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tagged: bff3 2,618 likes yourusername: 😉

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marisabel_rguez my sleepy head princess 😘

username1 yo whose hand is that with the engagement ring in the last slide 👀 ↳ username2 💍👭? ↳ username3 😳 ↳ username4 WAIT WHAT

ingridengen 💞

bff3 🖤

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↳ 12h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story ↳ 11h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story ↳ 7h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story ↳ 1h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

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↳ 5h ago: yourusername added to their story ↳ 59min ago: yourusername added to their story

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Text Messages

you: hiiiiii babyyyyyyyy

fiancée💞: Hahaha hi, my love

fiancée💞: What do you want? 🤣

you: can we reaaaaally not get a puppy?? 😭

fiancée💞: We talked about this, loveeee. We're all over the place, I'm not sure that's the best environment for a puppy

you: i know, i'm being silly ):

you: another pet then?

you: FISHIES???

fiancée💞: Who'll feed them when we're away

you: the little boys from across the street. it can be their cute little first job

fiancée💞: They're diabolical

you: yea you're right ):

fiancée💞: Once we've settled a bit, like properly... we can think of getting a pet, I promise. One that will fit perfectly with our little two-person family 😊

you: or three-person?

fiancée💞: ○○○

fiancée💞: ○○○

fiancée💞: You mean a child???

fiancée💞: One day

fiancée💞: Maybe haha

fiancée💞: 😅😬

fiancée💞: If we're both sure ig

you: only if we're both on the same page. and if we're both at a point where we're ready and can raise our little one in a good environment so that we can be the best moms ever, as they deserve

fiancée💞: You've really thought about this haha

you: honestly, i just want to celebrate life with you, whatever that will look like

read

you: shit okay you're freaking out, i'm so sorry. it was just a silly comment ahahaha don't stress. it's fine. i wasn't serious.

you: i really wasn't. i promise

you: i was just yapping

you: you know me

you: i much rather have fishies haha (:

read

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tagged: yourusername, bff2, bff3 589 likes bff1: girls night to celebrate knowing something you don't 😈

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albaps9 😈

marisabel_rguez 😍

yourusername 🤫

bff2 😇

alexiaputellas wooohoooo 🤩

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↳ 9h ago: yourusername added to their story

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tagged: marisabel_rguez 2,499 likes yourusername: life is good 🍂

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bff1 can i lend her for a day pls? ↳ yourusername nooooooo ↳ bff1 a few hours then????? ↳ yourusername noooooooooooooooo 😭 ↳ username1 Girl, you right, protect what's yours, Misa's a gem liked by yourusername

username1 not me zooming in on her hand to check for a ring ↳ username2 fr! they've been so sus 😭 ↳ username3 It would so be their thing to be all secretive again lmao

marisabel_rguez 😘

bff3 Thank you for the fun weekend, auntie Misa & YN!!! 🐻💛 ↳ marisabel_rguez We had the best time with your little man!

albaps9 because i'm in it, right? ↳ yourusername ALWAYS 🗣

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↳ 5min ago: albaps9 added to their close friends story

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�� 5min ago: alexiaputellas added to their close friends story

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Direct Messages

marisbel_rguez: I DIDN'T WANT TO SEE HER IN HER DRESS!!!

marisbel_rguez: FUCK YOU, ALE

alexiaputellas: I'M SORRY!

alexiaputellas: But don't worry, this one didn't make it! She looks even more ethereal in the one she chose. Mami still has not stopped crying and even her friends got silent

marisbel_rguez: What, why? This one's already so perfect! She looks incredibly gorgeous in it. She's like an angel. Fuck, she's gorgeous 😢

alexiaputellas Hahaha you're crying, aren't you?

marisbel_rguez: I admit, I watched your story a couple of times, then cried a little, yeah

marisbel_rguez: I'm the happiest woman ever. And I promise I'll make her the happiest too. I really really really promise that, Ale. She deserves all the good in the world.

alexiaputellas: We're happy to officially call you family soon, but you know you were already part of the family since day one. We're happy she has you, she's the luckiest. And you've already made her the happiest, or she wouldn't be fitting dresses and suits as we speak 😉

marisbel_rguez: It's so weird, but it only now properly hit me that we're actually doing this. That I've found my person. That we're as tight as we've ever been and that I love every day because she's in it. I'm just so thankful that we found our way to each other. I never would have imagined to be here the moment we first met through you. I might have dreamed of it a few times before we were a thing, but never ever ever ever was it this good and sweet in my head.

alexiaputellas: Yeah, I definitely need a special shout out in the vows, because without me, you wouldn't have met 😏

marisbel_rguez: Fuck you 🤣

alexiaputellas: 😜

alexiaputellas: Hey, I can't speak for her, but I don't think she ever expected to be loved the way you love her after all that happened to her. Thank you for showing her she's worth receiving all that love, and for letting her light shine again. She's been the most giggly, smily and happiest version of herself the past few years, and all thanks to you. I don't think we'll ever be able to express our gratitude. Thank you, hermana. From all of us.

marisbel_rguez: ○○○

marisbel_rguez: ○○○

alexiaputellas: You're crying again, aren't you?

marisbel_rguez: I never stopped.

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Text Messages

fiancée💞: Hi, my love

fiancée💞: I know you're at the wedding boutique right now

fiancée💞: But I just want to say that I love you. And I hate how those three words can't even express how much I really really really do. But I hope you can feel it.... when we're together, when I look at you and even when I'm not around.

fiancée💞: You’re utterly gorgeous, the girl of my dreams, and I know that whatever you'll choose today, you're going to shine in it. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

fiancée💞: I love you so much.

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21,014 likes marisabel_rguez: This life, forever please.

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yourusername careful what you wish for, chula. forever is a looooong time ↳ marisabel_rguez Still not long enough with you

bff1 I LOVE YOU TWO (TOGETHER)

albaps9 love love love

bff1 never beating the allegations that you are a better singer than a footballer bc wow you have some PIPES ↳ marisabel_rguez 🤣😭 ↳ bff2 Only after some alcohol in her system 😳 ↳ yourusername nope. also in the shower or while doing chores. rip me ↳ bff1 misa stop singing or you're killing your wife before she can walk down the aisle next month this comment is no longer available

alexiaputellas I made it to your slides, am I now officially your second favourite person? ↳ marisabel_rguez Fine, okay 🤣 ↳ yourusername not to interfere, but you always were 🤫 ↳ albaps9 i have receipts that say otherwise ↳ alexiaputellas Shush!!! That was when I was still a little prickly about it 😭 ↳ albaps9 A LITTLE HAHAHAHA

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tagged: marisabel_rguez 21,292 likes meteorabrand: 💚 Misa X Meteora 💙

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yourusername woof 89 likes ↳ username1 did you mean bark? 😭 ↳ username4 she's so unserious, i love her

yourusername wow who is this woman, is she single? 78 likes ↳ yourusername 💍?????????????? 23 likes ↳ marisabel_rguez 😂😘 ↳ username3 🤣😭🤣😭 we love you, don't ever change ↳ username2 everyone saying they want a misa, but i want a y/n. imagine having a super duper supportive gf all the time

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Text Messages

bff1: hiiiiii my buttercup, sunshine, pookie

bff1: the plane leaves in 8h

you: hi idiot, what plane? we didn't book anything

bff1: the plane to your hen party DUH

you: BRO YOU'RE INSANE

bff1: ☺️

bff1: so pack your bags

you: wtf no! i can't get on it!!!!!

bff1: yes you can!!!!! and you MUST

bff1: in fact, we're counting on it. the girls and i are on our way to madrid so you better start packing (: NOW (:

you: ○○○

you: ○○○

you: ○○○

you: ○○○

bff1: aaaand you're panicking ahahahaha

bff1: you won't even have to miss misa for long because your family and misa are joining us with her friends and family the last two days

you: ○○○

you: ○○○

bff1: i'm.... going to give you some time. LOVE YOU. C YA SOON 😘🤪

you: i love you girls but omfg a little warning next time????

you: WAIT no no no no, no next time. this will be my only ever hen party 😊👰

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↳ 23h ago: yourusername added to their story ↳ 12h ago: yourusername added to their story ↳ 5min ago: yourusername added to their story

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4,200 likes yourusername: 🐓🎉🤍

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username1 marriage material? 👀

username2 ma'am!!!! what???

username3 what's with the chicken? 😆 ↳ username4 ....hen..... hen party....? 😱 ↳ username1 OMG

bff2 ❤️❤️❤️

jennihermoso Pretty girl!! You deserve the world!!

marialeonn16 new tattoo? picca pls!

username8 betting money that this was a hen party. coming back to this post when they announce it

sofie.svava 😍

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tagged: bff1, yourusername, bff3 209 likes bff2: On bridesmaid duty while we celebrate our future Mrs!!!

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username1 found my way here through yn's tags.... ↳ username2 ME TOO. omg i want to know who's the future mrs 😳 ↳ username3 Y/N, obviously, come onnn guys!!

yourusername i love you 🥺

bff3 My girls ❤️😘

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↳ 1h ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

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↳ 1h ago: bff2 added to their story

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tagged: yourusername 562 likes bff1: before and after 🖤🤒🐓💞

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jennihermoso That's the only way you know it was a good hen party 😉

username1 uhhhh did she just reveal the secret by tagging yn ↳ username2 WOW SHE DID

alexiaputellas 🤭

marisabel_rguez 😍

albaps9 i'm still stuck in the 'after' ↳ bff1 come to our room, we're watching high school musical ↳ albaps9 you just want to get me in your bed ↳ bff1 hawana waka waka waka niki pu pu pu ↳ yourusername we're soooooooooarin, flyyyyyyyyin ↳ albaps9 fine, i've been persuaded

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Text Messages

fiancée💞: I love you. Sweet dreams, and see you tomorrow, wife-to-be 😘😉

you: i love you, fiancée-only-for-a-few-hours-left 😊

you: but there's no way i'm going to be able to get a wink of sleep tonight

fiancée💞: What's wrong? You're not catching the next best midnight flight home, are you? 🤣

you: noooooooooo

you: i'm just so nervous and excited and NERVOUS and EXCITED that i'm THIS close to throwing up. i've ran to the batroom thrice already but nothing!!!!

you: and no it's not food poisoning again because i barely ate today because of the NERVES

fiancée💞: Amor 😔

fiancée💞: I know it's nervewracking... everything that's going to happen. But nothing can go wrong, okay? The entire wedding venue could be on fire, the food disgusting and our dresses stolen, and it would still be the most perfect moment of my life. We'll have our loved ones there, everyone has the best intentions for us. We'll make it a beautiful day.

fiancée💞: You deserve this. Don't doubt it. Don't expect the universe to surprise you with something bad, when it's surprised you with something so so so good, too.

fiancée💞: I love you. I'll be there. We're doing this together.

you: oh god i'm bawling my eyes out

fiancée💞: I'm coming over. Which room were you in again?

you: no no no honey you can't

you: i know it's just a silly superstition, but i actually like the idea of not seeing you until tomorrow. i miss you, i'm literally aching, but i think that will make the moment tomorrow so much more magical.

fiancée💞: I agree, angel.

fiancée💞: I just don't want you to be alone and feeling like this

you: i'm not alone. not anymore, never!

fiancée💞: Wdym?

fiancée💞: Oh, wait. I get it 😊

fiancée💞: Sorry, I guess the nerves are getting to my head too hahaha

you: i love you

you: i love you

you: i love you

you: i love you

fiancée💞: I love you too

you: and i can't wait to start the next chapter in life with you

fiancée💞: I know, me neither. I'm so excited 🤩

fiancée💞: But first, I'm most excited for tomorrow!!

fiancée💞: Let's live in the moment for now

you: what are you looking forward to most?

you: because personally i can't wait to just be with you again

you: finally see you and hold your hands again. look at the love in your eyes

fiancée💞: I've been imagining you walking towards me since the second we started dating. Not to sound weird or cocky, but I've always known you were it for me, so imagining you walking down the aisle to become my wife happened pretty early on. I know that's crazy, but I can't wait for it to happen for real. I've been trying to picture it, but I can't. And I know my imagination won't do any of it justice, least of all the way you'll look.

fiancée💞: And since we're sharing what we're looking forward to, well, let's say I hate you for making me promise not to sleep together for a month until our wedding. I thought you were kidding, but your dedication has been real...painful 😭

you: you'll thank me tomorrow <3

you: and we've never really slept together

fiancée💞: Que??? Yes we have, what are you talking about

you: we've always made ✨love ✨

fiancée💞: Ahahaha yeah, of course, you silly woman

fiancée💞: MY silly woman 😚

you: hey remember the first year we were dating?

fiancée💞: I remember every second of it

you: even the time i said that if you called me yours again, i'd jump your bones?

fiancée💞: More so what happened after, but yes....

you: 😁😁😁

fiancée💞: Oh jeez, I'm in it now, aren't I?

you: yessssssss

fiancée💞: I can just picture you grinning like a cute idiot rn

you: ugh i miss you

fiancée💞: Are you alone? Do you want to call...?

you: NO! MISA! RULEBREAKER!

fiancée💞: Are we on Too Hot Too Handle? 😱

you: i will leave you on read. i'm serious about it

fiancée💞: You started it, you minx!!!

you: ugh you're right

you: ok. wait a minute

fiancée💞: Patiently

you: hi im back, sorry. i'm going to try get some hours now, i don't want to look like a wreck on our wedding day

you: thank you for loving me the way i needed from day one. i love you, misa.

you: (i'll save the rest for my vows tomorrow, which i'm going to choke on through tears so be warned!)

fiancée💞: Hahaha, I love you, gorgeous. And always and forever.

you: oh, and sweet dreams 😉

you: [photo]

fiancée💞: 😯

fiancée💞: Y/N oh my fucking god ????????

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tagged: marisabel_rguez 18,235 likes yourusername: We did 🤍

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alexiaputellas 😘 bff3 All the best to the two of you, beautiful 💞😚 albaps9 😭😭😭😭 sakinakarchaoui Congratulations!!! begovargas Felicidades, girls! bff2 Oh, my heart is still exploding 💖 _emilyfox wow 😍 bff1 Look at my moms 😭 keira walsh Nice👌 jennihermoso FELICIDADES OLE OLE marialeonn16 Beautiful couple, beautiful wedding 😘 salmaparalluelo Invested in your love story from the start. Congrats, hermana!!! stephcatley Yay, congrats! 😊 ashley.sanchez 😍 leahwilliamsonn Congratulations, newly weds! leilaouahabi yessss ❤️ ingridengen Here's to you two 💞 sara_doorsoun Congrats! ✨ janafernandez3 Congratulations 😢😊

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tagged: yourusername 41,014 likes marisabel_rguez: Sorpresa 🤍

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__cata13 YAY! 😍 username1 YO I CALLED IT janafernandez3 Congratulations 😊 username2 Y/S/N fridolinarolfo 😍 ona.battle ❤️ jillroord 🤩🥂 username3 Y/S/N!!!!!!! patri8guijarro Felicidades, amigas <3 kika.nazareth CONGRATS!!!! claudiaapina 😍👏 alexiaputellas 😘 aitanabonmati 🎉 leilaouahabi 😍 patri8guijarro felicidades!!! jennihermoso Cat's out of the bag!! 😝 bff2 Here's to an epic love story, lovelies! mariona8co 😁🎉 marialeonn16 💛💛💛💛 username7 we've come a long way, guys <3 ↳ username8 Aww we have ↳ username9 Shipping Y/S/N since the beginning 😭

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↳ 8min ago: yourusername added to their story↳ 8min ago: yourusername added to their story

↳ 7min ago: yourusername added to their story

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↳ 21min ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story↳ 21min ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

↳ 21min ago: marisabel_rguez added to their story

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a/n: hi, my loves!! this is the unofficial end of the social media au of this universe!! it will continue with a few short parts where we see the rest of their lives as they grow older, for those who are interested! (honeymoon, married life, pets/pregnancy, their little family and some slides that never made it to the existing parts etc)

thank you for sticking around this long to see it through to the end. i hope you enjoyed getting to read your happy ending.

may you find a love like this in real life and cherish it forever! never settle for less than you deserve. you're worthy of all the best things in the world, including an epic love. remember; your person is out there, waiting for your paths to cross to shower you in an abundance of love, respect and devotion.

all the love,

asha.

(and a hapy new year!! 🤍🥂)

[sugucvnt]

PERFECT ROLE | 2.7k

alcoholic! toji fushiguro x fem!reader

description: you’ve always been his perfect housewife. you’ve been there to keep the bed warm, keep the food hot, and there to cry when he’s been out all night drinking.

tags/warning: angst, crying, kitchen sex, clothed sex, mentions of drinking, implied alcoholic, toji's not a great husband but he is trying, REPOST (from my other account lolol), emotional sex

all of your days seem to start the same.

laundry, feeding your child, cleaning her room, etc. when you signed up for motherhood, you weren’t expecting the redundancy that tags along with it. still, even your bad days feel good and you couldn’t imagine trading motherhood for anything else. you smile a little as you tuck your last child into bed, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead before leaving quietly.

you have no regrets because you love your little girl. and sometimes, you love your husband too. the sound of jingling keys seems to snap you out of your thoughts and you huff out a breath, making your way downstairs. the stairs croak a bit, so you’re aware he knows you’re coming.

it isn’t written on your face, but you are rather upset. you’ve known your husband since he was a teenager- which means you’re aware of things he may not even be aware of. like the fact that he honestly prefers eating with other people. you’ve noticed the man goes a little crazy when you refuse to eat at the table with him. not just that, though, but you know the way his mind works.

toji doesn’t know what a promise is. or he’s got no idea what it means to make one.

he’ll make tons of empty promises that he never intended to keep in the first place, and then he’ll get pissy at you for being upset with him. it’s unfortunate, but you’ve always learned to just accept it and work around that flaw. until now, you’ve never allowed his blatant disregard for your feelings to send you into such despair. your emotions are a tool you’ve worked diligently to keep in place. it’s like a stone wall: they aren’t so easily broken or disturbed. not by just anyone, at least.  the only person who could disturb the artificial peace you’ve created to keep yourself sane is toji.

you’re barely near the man, still leisurely walking down your loud, wooden steps- but you can smell him.

cheap liquor. it’s all you’ve been able to smell this week.

“‘m back,” he calls, the shrinking scar on his lip pulling into a sickening grin. it seems so long ago but there was a time when you enjoyed his smile. there was a time when it brightened your day just to see the stupid little smirk he’d have on his face when you did something for him, or even when you’d wore a pretty outfit he liked.

“it’s late, toji,” you start, finally making your way down the steps and right past your husband. he barely feels like that to you anymore. “haven’t even had work this week but you’re out all night. it’s funny.”

you shoot him a quick glare before brightening up the kitchen a bit when you turn the stove light on.

“don’t be like that, i let you go out when you wanna.” he sits in one of the chairs in the dining area, a sly grin still glued to his stupid face. your eyebrows furrow and your head turns to look at him, your hand anxiously playing with the loose strings of your nightgown.

“let me? toji, you can’t let me do anything. i haven’t even been out to do anything but run errands.” another sigh escaped your lip and you feel like you might vomit. you’ve been up since 6, running errands, doing laundry, and making breakfast. not to mention, crying yourself nearly to death worrying about your husband. is he alright? why’s he been out so much recently? does he need to talk?

you’re worried out of your mind. it’s like your head’s been spinning and your thoughts aren’t even your own. so anxious, you’re nearly on the verge of vomiting daily. toji hardly even notices you said anything before he’s back to picking at the food on his plate.

“you promised you wouldn’t keep drinking.” he’s draining your energy day by day and you’re unsure if you can even keep up. your voice is merely a croak, fingers still widely tangling and untangling in the loose threads of your satin gown. you wanna say good night and kiss him on the cheek? even tell him that you aren’t mad, just worried is all.

you don’t.

you’re about to move past him. you’re tired and irritated- you need some sleep and a long bath and much to your dismay, he carefully grabs your arm. you’ve been with the kids all day. the kids you’d agreed to procreate when he promised a foolish illusion of a perfect family. you won’t regret your children- don’t think you could ever live with yourself if you did, honestly.

but you’re starting to think you chose the wrong person to start a family with.

he doesn’t speak. his presence is so subtle, it’s like he’s holding his breath. you feel a chill run through your back when he pulls you into his lap, attempting to have you straddle him. your energy, the rest of it, has been used up for the night. you don’t have the proper motivation to even fight with him. on a normal night, maybe you’d push him away a little hard and then come back to apologize. maybe on a normal night, you’d just bury your face in his welcoming neck without fighting him. maybe even ask if he’s okay. you wanna know. you gotta.

however, tonight isn’t a normal night. you haven’t had one in a while.

you have enough energy to turn your head to the side. you can barely stomach looking at his flushed face and wild hair. he’s as red as a tomato, with individual strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. you’ve been missing him so much that the images of how happy he used to look simply from being around you and your children flash through your mind, almost as if your own head’s mocking you. like your mind’s telling you how pathetic it is that you’re losing the family you built. going from a loving housewife to your husband’s burden.

does he hate you? is that why he’s been acting so recklessly? you’re no stranger to fantasizing about your life before a family. you often thought about a different career choice or how much free time you’d have if something, anything, had changed. that didn’t mean you didn’t want toji anymore, though. the thought of him hating you or feeling any type of disgust with you caused your stomach to churn painfully, embarrassingly enough. he was still your lover. always had been.

“you know how much i love you, yeah?” he whispers, the scent of liquor heavy on his thick tongue. his words cause you to flush with a bittersweet sensation. loves you? he’s constantly gone and making you worried. you can’t remember the last time he asked about your day or helped out at home.

you pout childishly, stifling an unwanted laugh. nothing about this is amusing to you, but you genuinely can’t help the laugh beginning to escape your lips. “yeah? then i don’t see why you make me worry so much.” you finally bring yourself to face him, tears awkwardly welling in your eyes. blinking them away, you subconsciously pressed your head against his. you can hear his breath hitch in his throat before his hands gently grip your clothed waist. you’ve been doing well at keeping your frustration with your situation at bay, but something about sitting in your husband’s lap just broke you. when was the last time you were able to feel his warmth? it felt nice. you were starting to remember just how much you missed feeling his body against yours again.

god, you were beginning to feel so needy.

“hey,” you hear him start before he quickly stops talking. you assume he’s attempting to rack his tipsy brain for the right words, but it must be difficult in his haze. still, he’s seeming to sober up in your presence. “don’t cry, please. not over me.”

tears still drip from your eyes, your body ignoring his words. how can you stop now? you’ve been crying all day. all week. he’ll never understand what he’s doing to your mind until it’s too late for the both of you. you’re constantly on edge, feeling like you’ll break. he’ll tell you something sweet, claiming he’ll stop or that he’s sorry- but won’t do anything to make you believe it. you’ve stopped trusting him and you hate that so much. hate how much you’re regretting a relationship with him and how far you’ve both taken it.

neither of you is ready to be together.

even then, you can’t leave. you have a child together. and secretly, even if you won’t admit it, you still love him. even if you’re angry and frustrated, and depressed- you’ll always love him. you’ll always be here, keeping the bed warm and keeping food on the table for when he gets home.

that’s one promise you can’t break.

��please, you’re hurting me a lot.” you’re trying to be honest. until now, you’ve held the way you’ve felt for as long as possible, only confronting him when the situation escalates. you’ve been a good woman. a good wife, for him. “i can’t- not by myself. please, toji. please.” you plead with him, bringing the back of your hand up to quickly wipe away your unwelcome tears.

even in the dim light, you can tell how much his face drops seeing you cry. you’re aware of how his mouth opens, but then quickly shuts. his eyes find yours and his hands squeeze your waist a little. nothing is stopping you from releasing a low groan, so you do. poking your lip out while you watched, or rather felt, for his every move.

he presses a chaste kiss to your neck and suddenly, you can’t remember what you were so upset about. the feeling of his scarred lip bewitches you and forces more groans from your lips. your body seems to move on its own, hips gyrating over his clothed bulge in a steady movement. your lips move to his neck now, your brain filling with fuzz while his hands travel over your needy body. goosebumps begin to form along your skin when he touches you, but he barely notices. it’s been too long since you’ve been touched like this.

“there she is,” toji pushes his strands of hair out of his face before gently grabbing your chin. his eyes are intimidating as ever, but you feel a sudden warmth when he looks at you now. the same gentle fire in his stomach you used to feel. it’s dangerous. it’s dangerous because it feels like hypnotism. every worry or stressor in your life seems to become so blurry they’ve disappeared. your feelings are surprisingly at ease, and shoulders that were once tense now drop lazily. “my pretty lil’ housewife. knew you couldn’t stay mad at me…”

his words should snap you out of your daze. they should upset you because now it’s clear he’s either attempting to make a shitty apology or distract you. despite your awareness, you’re unable to bring yourself to stop.

“yeah…” you breathe out hoarsely, attempting to roll your hips against his hardening bulge once again before he stops you, tightly gripping your waist. your head shoots up to stare at him, silently questioning him. his hands quickly leave your waist before silently fumbling with his belt and zipper. you suck your lip into your mouth and nervously pull your nightgown up to your tummy. the world around the both of you seems to fade away, the only thing on your mind now being your husband. toji, toji, toji.

you breathe out a cool breath, shaky fingers snaking down to pull your sticky panties to the side. your husband’s mouth pulls into a grin when he notices his effect on you, blowing some air from his mouth. you watch intently as his thick fingers wrap around the base of his cock. he glances up at you for a split second before he’s rubbing the top of his cock against your wet clit. you shiver, your chest rising and falling dramatically from such a simple touch. you can feel nerves surge throughout your stomach from both pleasure and anxiety, but you ignore it.

it’s painfully quiet, the only sounds being your soft groans and toji’s grunts. he slicks his cock with a mixture of saliva and your arousal before lining it with your entrance. once he pushes in, you can no longer contain yourself. your eyes water again from the stretch, but you’re still moaning. couldn’t stop if you wanted to. your mouth hangs open, tongue lolling to the side while bottoms out in your tight heat.

“been so long baby,” he whimpers, fucking whimpers, in your ear, the familiar feel of his hands now back on your waist. “missed feeling you like this so bad.” you can feel his hips thrust upward, fucking into you in swift movements while you just take it. you feel his cock drag against your sopping walls, the sound of your slick gushing not going unnoticed by either of you. it’s almost awkward the way you just sit there and take what he’s giving you.

his pace slows down now and then, the gentle drag of his throbbing cock sending waves of pleasure through your body. you huff out gentle breaths into his neck while toji has his way with your body for the first time in a while. neither of you feels talkative tonight given the tension, but you wanna cry out to him. your body’s been on fire these nights without feeling his cock filling you up so, so so perfectly.

with a free hand, he makes a gap between the both of you and presses his finger to your aching clit, causing you to cry out loudly. you throw your head back, finally gaining a bit of control. you leisurely rotate your hips, holding onto toji’s broad shoulders as a way to keep your balance. toji never stops moving. he never stops fucking himself inside of you, one hand gripping your ass while the other gently presses down on your clit.

you know he isn’t good at apologies. is this his way of apologizing? you can’t help but wonder.

he could feel your walls gripping him like you were too afraid to let go- and it was driving him insane. you could tell as much, groaning from the way he throbbed inside of you. “gripping me like-” he stops and grunts, pace quickening once again. you can hear the sound of his cock pounding you, along with the sound of your slick continuing to escape your pussy. it’s almost too much, really. “like you want another baby. do you? you wan’ another, hm?”

goodness, no. you don’t need another child in this situation. you wouldn’t be ready and you know he wouldn’t be either. despite that fact, the fantasy of him pumping more children into you was starting to force a reaction from you. your toes clenched tightly while you rode his cock, pulling yourself off a bit before sliding down quickly. the nerves in your stomach were out of control and you broke out in chills. you were almost there. you buried your face in his shoulder while you moaned, riding out your quiet orgasm. his fingers sped on your aching clit, encouraging you to use him for your own pleasure. he was so lovely in bed.

toji whispered how much of a good girl you were for him before he found himself painting your walls in thick ropes of hot cum. he thrusts into you a few more times before halting, hands weakly wrapping around your hips in an attempt to pull you even closer.

he didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was sorry.

“‘m sorry i haven’t changed.” his voice was croaky, you’d noticed.

“‘ts okay. won’t leave you. can’t.” your lips were pursed while you lay your head on his shoulder, thinking about your words. there was nothing sadder to you than your own desperation. no matter how this played out, you couldn’t see yourself leaving him. no matter how much you were regretting your marriage, you’d never leave.

you were realizing that maybe you weren’t good for each other after all. the toxicity of your relationship was nothing to laugh at.

but even then, you’d continue playing the role of his perfect housewife.

[mauvecherie-writes]

be mine this christmas: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x black oc!xenia richards

trope: grumpy billionaire x personal assistant au

ru’s 💌: this will be my last update for a few days because I have some school work to do that I’ve been avoiding lol. The Lewis in this story is not to be conflated with IRL Lewis. He’s an asshole who knows he’s an asshole but you’ll love him the same. This story is fast paced because it takes place in about one day.

series masterlist

chapter: TWO

chapter warning: DUAL POV, mentions of toxic family dynamics: child neglect, asshole!lewis

chapter w.c: 3.86K

𝐋𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐒

Lewis had an affinity for pissing people off. Since childhood, it had been something that he loved and it was probably something that he always had a fascination for. Seeing the way that he could affect someone else in such a way that dictates their mood was amusing to him. For most people, it was a funny occurrence that he would quickly forget about as soon as he left their presence . But there was one person that he made a point to aggravate with her furious expression being left in her wakes as she stormed away - his little assistant, Miss Xenia Richards.

Being able to garner a reaction out of her was worth his time in gold. It was like a hobby of his where he kept a running record going of how many times that he could successfully piss her off. Any moment that he was feeling bored, all it took was a swivel of his chair and an intercom call to her desk and it took nothing to invoke a reaction out of her - simply because it was too easy.

Why did Lewis love it so much? A very simple answer. He was an asshole.

It was how he was raised - or lack thereof.

A toxic cycle that he found all too time consuming to break with everything else that he had going on. It was just the way he was and he was not going to dig deep into his childhood trauma to figure out why pissing his PA off gave him a greater satisfaction than winning a new client. He liked the way he was just fine.

He wasn’t going to psychoanalyse why when she bashfully hid her face away from him, it made his dick hard. Or when she storms out of his office, he loved the way her ass jiggled and he pictured it bent over his lap wiggling as he slapped the smooth surface. He didn’t care as to why he enjoyed aggravating Xenia so much. But he was not going to stop any time soon.

When the company was established, Lewis had put it in the company policy that the executive staff would not fraternise with anyone directly in their line of authority and for the last three years he had been deeply regretting that rule. He was sure even the way that he fantasised about Xenia would be grounds for his termination from his position. So the next best thing that he had in his arsenal was riling her up.

His fascination also probably had to do with the fact that getting smart-mouthed and strong-willed women to submit to him was a kink of his. It was a dangerous affliction that he knew would cost him but it was worth it, million times over. Especially if it was Xenia at the end of his tunnel.

Lewis knew that she put up a good front but he could see right through Xenia’s faux exterior. She was nothing more than a brat who needed guidance. Specifically his guidance.

“Sir.” The sweet voice of his secretary, Tabitha, came over the phone’s intercom.

“Yes Tabitha?” He answered as it put a stop to his wayward thoughts.

“I have a list from Olivia on what else is needed for the Christmas party.” He could already feel an idea formulating before he could even utter thank you. The eagerness that swept through him at the thought of his assistant’s displeasure was concerning but he chose not to focus on that. Instead, his mind dwelled on how her face would contort between wanting to be defiant and wanting to submit to his bending. It was too good of a moment to not witness. As for now, he’ll just have to settle for the memories.

Lewis grabbed his cellphone from the desk and typed a quick message to Xenia with an updated list. He predicted that by now she probably would have been grabbing Mile’s lunch as the sushi restaurant was a few more miles further out from their offices. It was a last minute addition and when he thought about it, he preferred the roast blend from MonMouth instead.

After sending his message, he placed his phone back on his hand-carved red oak desk and turned back to face his computer screen. When the screen lit back up, he scrolled through some of the marketing reports and was particularly impressed with the continuous success of PLUS44WORLD. Nearly half a decade later into his retirement, his merch was still a major selling point of his brand. He then schemed through a few proposals from marketing agencies for sponsorships. He forwarded the ones that he thought would work best with the company to Miles and the legal team.

Even despite his obsession with enraging his personal assistant, Lewis could not deny that she did a fantastic job. A damn near perfect job actually. Everything that he threw her way, she was able to handle it with ease. Departments handed in their reports on time due to her delegation. Meetings and proposals, he went through half the time because Xenia often assessed them before forwarding them to him. This ultimately left him with very little to do towards the end of the day.

That was not great for his boredom. As he looked out of the window and watched the falling snow, he was forced to spend time with his thoughts. By the stream of thick fluff, he predicted that by the time Christmas rolled by, the streets of London. Would be covered in blankets of it. He hated the way that his mind shifted to his parents. They hated the cold, snow in particular and spent most of their time somewhere in the tropics.

At the very first sight of snowfall, they ran. As soon as they were able to leave Lewis alone with his nannies, they did. He was raised by his nannies, whichever one they had at the time. Up until he began to take an interest in motorsports, then his parents decided that they wanted to do their job. They had done just enough for it not to cause a media firestorm as his success grew expeditiously. The perfect family, they were dubbed.

It was only ever for the public. Behind closed doors, Lewis was often left alone - back into the arms of his nannies. Alone again, especially at Christmas. He never let it bother him, in essence, he was surrounded by too many people to actually ever be alone. But in his solitude, he had observed a thing or two about humans. Their mannerisms, their habits, their tells - all to come to the conclusion that people were ruled by their emotions. Whether they wanted to or not.

Through his adolescence, he pushed his nannies past their limits - most of them quitting before their contract was over. It was then that he decided that he was not a fan of compliant women. They were not stimulating enough for him. Lewis learnt a lot of things in his isolation as an only child. How to be in charge of his own happiness. He was indifferent to his parents due to their mistreatment and he probably needed professional help to unpack that. Right now, that was not a priority.

Instead, he chose to find solace in causing Xenia discomfort. He enjoyed seeing the life in her eyes when she got mad. He always wondered if there would be that same fire when she reached her climax. Or would she crumble beneath him, spent and exhausted. One assumption he was almost certain of was that she was undoubtedly a screamer. That he was sure.

As if his thoughts had summoned her presence, he turned around at the tumbling of limbs, bags and lunch barraging through his office door.

The better part of him wanted to stand up and offer some help. The arsehole part of him leaned back into his chair, silently watching as Xenia cursed as she struggled to make it through. After a painful moment, she was able to gather herself as she dumped the bags onto the floor and then placed his lunch and coffee onto his desk without a single spill.

“Such a gentleman for helping me with the door, sir.” She spat out the last word with so much venom. Xenia had probably done it to annoy him as if he wasn’t already in the mindset that he was, it would have. All it did now was that it shot shocks through to his dick. Too many times had he fantasised about her using his official title as she thanked him for her pleasure. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to control his smirk from breaking out as he watched her shuffle in one place as she tried to regulate her emotions. Her hand twitched by her sides as she seemed to be counting down.

She was so responsive, Lewis thought to himself. And it only drove his desire to toy with her more. Xenia may not respond with words but in letting her body respond for her, it fuelled the flames in the pit of her stomach.

Since Lewis had hired her, he knew that she would be more than he bargained for and he had begun to wonder if - even by just the smallest fraction, that she also wanted to please him. It would make sense if she did. Xenia was responsive to him in other ways that she may not have been aware of, eager for his touch and eager for his praise.

Yet she would not submit, she would not give up her control to him. But he would take it, own it, bend it to his will and there would be no going back.

However, as tempting as it would be, it was a pleasure that he would not indulge in just yet. The company rules were there for a reason and his desire would remain in his thoughts and burn his soul as they were starved of fruition.

Lewis would just have to settle for the tremble of her full, glossed lips, the rising of her chest instead of the jiggle of her ass. He would observe the fierceness that swirled in her eyes every time that she looked at him rather than the feeling of her cunt clamping down on his dick. He would expand her energy to run around the city with a list in hand for as long as it fuelled the fantasy of her running out of breath as he drove into her, marred the walls of his warped mind.

That would do. For now.

𝐗𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

There were many kinds of demons in accordance with the religions and mythologies of the world and as this particular demonic spawn sighed as he leaned forward, Xenia wondered what she had done in her past life to deserve this.

“Let’s hope that I don’t need to get my shirts re-starched due to your negligence.”

Oh, this dickhead.

For the second time in less than two minutes, Xenia had to use the countdown method to control her rising temper. And for the fourth time that week, she thought about handing in her resignation, cashing out her savings and moving to New York. It was wishful thinking. A sigh left her as she patted her hair back into place.

“Maybe if you had helped me then that wouldn’t be a worry would it?”

“And why would I do that? It’s what I hired you for.”

Now, she knew that being of a certain class made people lose touch with reality but to hear such words come out of the cretin had her mind racing with insults that could curse an entire bloodline. All of them colourful and all of them violent enough to get her a secured spot in HM Bronzefield.

So she stood there in silence as she swallowed down her disgust at the complete lack of chivalry. They stayed there, Xenia attempting not to burst with anger and Lewis daring her to defy him.

You just need this job a little bit longer, Xenia.

Pushing her pride aside, she bent down, picked up his dry cleaning and walked across the main office space to the private en suite. She hung them behind the door and took a moment to inhale and exhale, again and again until she felt her hert beating steadily again.

Entering back into the office, she did not offer Lewis a second glance as she picked up the other bags up from the floor. “Now that you have your lunch, I will take these bags to the conference hall.” She turned to walk away, her body burning with anticipation to leave his scrutinising gaze. Then he cleared his throat and she had to stop herself from screaming in frustration.

“Is there anything else that you need from me, sir?”

“I do.” For all of the times for Xenia to be affected by his voice, it had to be when she wanted to bash the side of his head with the bags in her hands. Not only that, she hated the visceral reaction his voice seemed to have on her body. Her core tightened as a shiver rushed down her spine.

Xenia forced herself to stay still, facing the door as he stood directly behind her. She did not want to look into his eyes as she was avoiding whatever she was feeling.

“As soon as you drop those bags in the conference rooms, please come back here. I know your propensity to become distracted.”

He was right and it gutted her that he had picked up on the restlessness of her mind.

“Yes, sir.” Xenia did not stop once she had thrown the door open and rushed across the floor, avoiding the eyes of the other assistance.

“Are you alright?” Her mind couldn’t register that it was the voice of Tabitha. She incessantly pressed on the elevator button, in an effort to increase the distance between her and Lewis. Her eyes cut to his office and she saw him leaning against his desk so he took sips of his coffee as he scrolled through his phone. As if he could feel the intensity of her glare, his eyes flickered up and met hers. Holding her stare, Lewis put his phone down and pressed a button on his desk and the glass walls began to tint darker and darker until they were pitch black. Before he was enclosed in complete privacy, Lewis shot her a wink.

And it almost dissolved her resolve.

“Xenia?” The sound of her name jolted her back to reality. She looked to her right and saw the older woman, Tabitha standing there. In her mid fifties with a full head of grey dreadlocks secured on top of head in a bun with spunky red glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. “I asked if you were alright dear.” The Jamaican twang to her voice gave her a sense of comfort that made Xenia relax her tense shoulders.

“I’m okay Tabitha, thank you for asking. I’m just trying to get through the day in one piece.”

“Knock on wood as soon as you find some. That boy is very unpredictable.” Tabitha winked at her as the elevator doors closed. The ride down to the ground floor was swift. When she entered the main conference hall where the party would be hosted, it wasn’t a shock to her at the utter chaos that was taking place. Ladders tall and short propped against the walls as frivolous leftovers of decor loitered on the floor. Workers ran around as they tried to finish the last of the set up.

As she stood at the door, Xenia could see the beginnings of her vision coming together after weeks spent designing. This was not just a party for the company staff, no. All of the members currently sitting on the board attended. Major clients that the company wanted to keep in favour amongst social media content creators on the PR list. Ala in all to say that a lot of fucking people were going to be in attendance and Xenia had felt the pressure, to make it perfect as she did every year since her employment.

She managed not to get her feet tangled in discarded tinsel as she entered the room further.

“Drop them near the main stage, Nia.” Olivia, the event coordinator and good friend pointed in the direction that she wanted the bags to be. Her dark, raven locks were pulled into a high ponytail, her beautiful umber skin glowing under the low lights. Similar to little miss bitch, Lola, Olivia had the same gymnast body type. However, Olivia was nowhere close to the bitch that Lola was, she was an angel.

Once the bags were dropped, Xenia stepped back to admire the work that was being put in. The theme this year was Winter Wonderland with a specific colour scheme to stick to considering what the traditions of what a winter wonderland entails. But the design was coming along very well and Xenia was very proud of herself.

Crystal and faux glass decorations adorned the ceilings alongside uniform rows of white christmas lights. The centerpiece was a ten foot Christmas tree sat on the stage that was still in the process of being decorated but she knew that when it was done, it would be the showstopper.

“You think you can help us tackle that monster?” Olivia asked as she opened the bags that Xenia had delivered.

“Not a problem darling. I just need to go and see what Hamilton wants first and then I’ll be back down.” Olivia smirked at the mention of their boss but when she met Xenia’s death glare did she swallow it back. Olivia had a sick fascination with Xenia’s relationship with Lewis. From the beginning, she claimed that the sexual tension was intertwined in the bonds of their hatred for each other. Olivia had the ridiculous notion that Lewis seemed to enjoy infuriating Xenia because she was terrible at hiding her emotions. Whilst that may be true, that he loved goading a reaction out of her, Xenia loved doing the same. Even if it was the smallest loss of composure, it gave her a sliver of triumph.

“When i come back, the very mention of his name, I will fuck off out of here.” Xenia threatened, which caused Olivia to roll her eyes. Her track back up to the executives floor was one she dragged her feet for. She was not in a rush to get back to Lewis’s office. When she approached her desk to grab her iPad, she could feel his eyes peering at her through the privacy window. She had always found it creepy that he could watch the floor but no-one could look into his office when the tint was at full transmission. Xenia didn’t bother with knocking, he knew that it was her anyway.

The air grew thicker as he was unfazed by her show of an entrance. He was ignoring her as he typed away on his computer. She lowered herself onto a chair in front of his desk in a huff.

Can this man hurry up? I have shit to do. Xenia said to herself internally.

“Can you stop being dramatic, Richards? There’s no need for all of that.” His words were slow and mastered as he finally typed in the last of whatever that he was doing and turned his gaze onto her. His deep brown eyes were dark, alluring and made all of the muscles in her body tighten.

She could be honest, Xenia talked a big game and she absolutely had a massive attitude but there was not a lot of bark in her bite. Especially now as they were alone, Xenia’s body knew what her mind refused.

“Can I be honest with you Miss Richards?” The smoothness of his voice was enticing. Like a matured whiskey being poured over ice, she knew not to reach for a taste.

And yet, she still took the bait. “When have you never been honest with me?”

Lewis smirked. “I like this little game that we have going on between us.”

”Game?” Xenia frowned in confusion. Lewis nodded his head as he stood up from his chair and circled the desk until he was closer to her. She froze in her sit but managed to lean back into it so as to create some physical distance. His dark eyes remained on her as he rolled his sleeves, exposing his intrinsically tattooed skin for her viewing pleasure. Xenia forced her eyes back to his face and to maintain that eye contact as her traitorous core tightened at the simple act.

“Don’t play coy. I won’t say what it is that we play as it doesn’t need to be stated.” He paused as he fixed the folds of his shirt. “But I like it.”

Her worst enemy at that very moment was her body. Her nipples tightened as her core pulsated. Once in a while, the thought of hate fucking her boss crossed her mind, more often than it should. However, today was simply not the time nor place to let her mind wander into places that had been locked behind red doors.

Xenia crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “Of course you’d think torturing me is a game that we both like to play. I mean, I knew that you were a narcissist but this sounds concerning. Do you need me to contact someone?” The faux concern in her voice caused Lewis to lean backwards. He folded his arms across his chest and peered down at her. That fucking stupid smirk back on his face. The strands hanging on either side of his face with the overhead lights casting shadows that danced across his skin.

She should have been intimidated but she wasn’t. She was deeply aroused and then it dawned onto her how they were positioned.

Lewis above her and her below, almost eyes level with his crotch.

A show of submission. One that she would not give into. Xenia quickly shuffled back up to her feet and that caused Lewis to widen his smile before he moved back to his seat.

“What did you actually need me here for, Mr Hamilton?”

“I just wanted you to make sure that you don’t forget about the list I have emailed you.” Lewis said so casually as if he had not just accosted her. The scoff that left her could not be held back as she grabbed her iPad from his desk and charged towards the door.

What a waste of my fucking time.

“Oh and one last thing, Miss Richards.”

Don’t roll your eyes girl.

“Yes, sir?”

“Make sure to remember the number six for me.”

Is this man alright?

Xenia exhaled through her gritted teeth. “Yes, sir.” She had almost made it out of her door when she heard the faintest whisper. Whether he had actually said it or not, a shiver rolled down her spine and lit her nerves aflame.

Two simple words,

Good girl.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @cocobutterqwueen @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @laneywrld @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @hotfudgeslug @iamryanl @pickingupmymercedes @eleetalks @ambs-06 @annisassintchaska @boujiestpoet @nayaesworld @nat-lh-44 @mochachocolatteyaya @melaninpov @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @trinitoldyouso @gwenda-fav @f1-football-fiend

[drysdalesworld]

work song

pairing: luke castellan x fem!nike!reader

genre: angsty, some fluff, & comfort

word count: 1.3k+

warning(s): mentions of violence, mentions of nightmares, mention of reader death in dreams, luke being sleep deprived, & kronos talking to luke

note: happy new year! here’s my new year gift for y’all <3 idk what’s up with me & always writing nike!reader fr. not set in the “the sun & it’s shadow” universe! but there are alludes to nike!reader. please ignore the many inaccuracies in this 🙏 not proofread!

Luke Castellan didn’t like going to bed.

Going to bed meant falling asleep and falling asleep meant he’d dream and dreaming meant he’d be met with images of death, revenge, destruction, and hope. He often saw the destruction of Camp Half-Blood the minute his head hit the pillow. Of Mount Olympus and the Gods. But, mostly of you.

Luke would hold your limp and cold body in his arms as he cried for you, jerking awake with gasps and tears. An aching feeling settling in his chest as he clawed at his rapidly beating heart, trying to calm himself down, gripping the sheets beneath him as he caught his breath. Nights like these always ended up with him dragging himself to cabin seventeen, crawling into your bed as you soundly slept, arms instinctively wrapping around the body of your beloved as if you knew he needed the comfort.

Those kinds of nightmares shook the Castellan boy to his core. He didn’t know why he dreamt of those kinds of things. Causing any kind of pain to you was something he’d never dream of doing, but yet his dreams were often full of it. You dying by his hand, blood staining his hands crimson.

Sleep didn’t come easy when he was alone. Haunted by the future images of destruction and loss. It was a never ending cycle that Luke Castellan could not escape. His only freedom from it was in your arms, which is a place where he found himself tonight.

Luke currently found himself sprawled across your nearly made bed, all four corners tucked tightly into the bedframe and stuffed animals piled onto the end of your bed. His calloused fingers lightly drummed against the soft material of your bed spread. He was always impatient when it came to waiting for you to return from your nightly gossip sessions in the Aphrodite cabin.

The familiar sound of cabin seventeens buzz began to quiet down as the night got later and everyone got settled for bed. Luke was the only one awake by the time every Nike child fell into a deep slumber, tossing a small stuffed teddy between his hands as he continued to wait, desperately trying to silence his racing thoughts.

It was always the same every night—lay awake, stare into the dark corner of the Hermes cabin, strain his ears for any strange sounds until he heard his voice, and try not to go mad.

He succeeded most nights. But on the nights where Luke’s strength and sanity wore thin, he crawled into the very space he’s occupying at the moment.

Luke.

The teddy bear fell limp against the boys chest as he halted his movements in tossing it.

Luke, I know you can hear me.

Eyes squeezed shut and muttering the same comforting story his Mother used to whisper to him as a child before slumber took him into their embrace.

You can fight it all you want, Luke. But we both know you’re already mine. You can’t stop fate.

The Hermes boy continued to mutter the bedtime story to himself, losing count of how many times he had to repeat it. His throat began to hurt.

It’s fate. All of it is fate. You’ll join me. She’ll die. The Gods will submit to our orders and grant you whatever you desire, Luke.

Luke’s eyes were closed so tightly that the rushing of blood in his ears began to hurt his head, tears spilling out from the corners and ran down the sides of his face.

No matter how hard you try, you’re not strong enough to save her.

“Shut. Up.” Luke whispered, hands going up to his hair, tugging the strands in frustration.

I thought you wanted this, Luke? Wanted the Gods to pay for their negligence and cruelty? To see them bow at your feet, begging for mercy?

“No,” he muttered. It’s not worth it if she dies. None of it is. He thought to himself.

Luke Castellan knew that the visions Kronos showed him in his sleep were exaggerations of what could happen. So when he started to see your death by his hands, he began to reconsider reaching out to Kronos and exact revenge on the Gods. He couldn’t live without you, as dramatic as it sounded. It was true.

The dark haired boy knew that the old Titan was going to answer, but the creaking of the cabin floors and the sound of your familiar pitter-patter is what broke the connection.

Luke bolted up, the stuffed teddy falling to the floor.

“Oh my Gods, Luke! You scared me. Why aren’t you in bed?” You whispered, hand over your chest as your heart rapidly beat against it from the unexpected fright.

Your boyfriend didn’t answer you. He instead stood up from your ruffled bedspread and gathered you into his arms, face digging into your neck as he held you tightly to his frame.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You gently asked, hands wrapping around his shoulders as your hands wandered to his dark curls.

Luke’s silence is all you needed as you hummed out an acknowledgment, fingers gently rubbing circles into his scalp. He had told you of his particular struggles after he had battled back and forth with himself for days about the wrongness of it all. You were shocked he would ever do such a thing, but you understood. You understood what he was trying to achieve, begging him to not go through with it. Being intertwined with a Titan like Kronos could not garner positive results. Luke agreed to not go further, but Kronos still lingered and until the two of you could find a way to break that connection, he would continue to whisper horrendous things into Luke’s ear.

“Let’s get you into bed, yeah?” You asked, softly pulling him away from your neck so you could get a good look at him.

He had dark circles under his eyes. His dark locks were tangled and wild. His cheeks looked sunken in a bit, a sign that he wasn’t eating or sleeping properly.

A frown etched itself onto your face, thumbs traveling to his cheeks to gently caress them. He leaned into your touch, Luke’s eyes bore into your own as the two of you stood there in complete silence and darkness.

“It’ll all be alright, okay? We’ll figure it out. We always do, Luke” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your boyfriends chin, narrowly missing his bottom lip.

Luke only meekly nodded, allowing you to guide the both of you to your bed, swiftly tugging at the tightly tucked sheets. Once the soft sheets were untucked, you crawled in first, laying yourself back first as you opened your arms for Luke to nestle himself in. And that he did.

You wrapped your arms around Luke as he brought the covers up to both of your chins, face tucked into your neck once again. He melted into your frame, body relaxing as the only thing he could hear was your heartbeat against his ear.

No words were further exchanged between the two of you. The only sound of crickets and the howling wind echoing throughout the cabin. You knew that this would be a topic for tomorrow and that the only thing that mattered in the moment was Luke getting some deserved sleep. You couldn’t fathom the kind of struggle he went through everyday and you only hoped that your presence at least eased it in some way.

Luke knew that this had to come to an end. He was tired of feeling this way and not getting a reprieve from the Titan. He needed to protect you from the influence of Kronos. No matter what it took.

Sleep finally consumed the both of you after minutes passed. You dreamt of archery and training with your siblings while Luke dreamt only of darkness and guilt.

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

18. It means, my dear sister 💌

Spending money becomes a hobby when it doesn’t come out of your pockets.

“So what are you thinking of buying him?” You ask while sipping a bubble tea–the very drink that caused your descent into a comfortable pile of pillows.

Thoma runs a hand through his golden hair before scanning the clothing racks, “That’s why you’re here because, I have no idea.”

“And I’m supposed to know?”

He stops in his tracks, tilts his head, and squints. You can’t tell what he’s thinking. You always can–Thoma is an open book, but something about his gaze makes you uneasy. He takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “Two heads are better than one.”

You sigh and it’s not a breath of relief, “How about clothes?”

Thoma shakes his head in disapproval as he feels the fabric of a navy blue polo, “He has more luxury brands than I can count.” That’s not surprising considering the car Childe owns or the clothes he wears in his posts. You can tell he comes from a wealthy family both in love and money.

“Did you ask him what he wants?”

Thoma looks at you as if you were a failed experiment he had the consequence of cleaning after–synonymous with the expression he gives you every day so it’s no different, just exaggerated, “If he told me, I wouldn’t be here. He said, “Surprise me,” With what? A successful talking stage? A therapist?”

You chuckled, recalling the conversation you had a few hours ago. You surmise that the ginger is more of a provider than a receiver. Perhaps in all context, “I bet he’d like anything you give him.”

“He would. He’s like a golden retriever on crack. He’s a dumbass, but he’s funny so it cancels out. It reminds me of a time when he was practicing in the gym for a swim competition—and a girl walked in looking for something. He thought she was pretty so he started acting cool but in the locker room there was a huge rat and he came out screaming, “I’m not a pervert.”

You giggle with your brother whose head is thrown back from a fit of laughter. His free hand hovered over his stomach and his face was bright tomato. You recall the day it happened–how gorgeous Childe looked in the water and how silly he seemed running out for help. That was a throwback.

“That’s insane.”

He nods aggressively while catching his breath, trying to form the right words without coughing, “Exactly, but I think he’s hung up on that girl.”

“Really?” You act surprised.

“I just have a hunch.”

“Does he like that girl?” Maybe you shouldn’t have pressed. But when Childe is the subject of conversation you seem to want more, to know more, to see more.

Your brother thinks. You know that expression too well. Something he does as a habit every time he’s being witty, thinking of trouble, or giving you the best advice your parents couldn’t compare to. Finally, he finds his thoughts, “I’m not sure, he has a habit of getting attached and disconnecting. It’s happened before–multiple times.”

“Oh.”

The thing about the English language or any language for that matter is that there are words used interchangeably depending on the tone one uses–either surprise, disappointment, or disgust.

And the thing about Thoma is that he reads people, especially those he holds dear.

“But with her…” He begins, “It’s different. The way he talks about her is the same as when he talks about swimming–You can see the passion.”

That comforts you. It gives you hope, but too much of it is dangerous. Childe is a book everyone discusses with praise and you want to know why but a part of you dreads that once you do, you won’t like the ending. That you’ll be disappointed with the money and time you spent because the hype wasn’t for you.

But curiosity is human greed. And Childe is a conversation you want to have, “What does he say about her?”

“Why do you want to know?”

Because I’m scared of being disappointed again.

“I’m just curious—you made him sound like a playboy. Maybe the girl needs to be warned.”

“It’s not like he’s a bad guy. I just don’t want him or her to get hurt. Relationships aren’t easy—you know that.”

“What if…” You start, already regretting the question in your head. But Thoma looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue, “I started seeing someone like him… what would you say?”

“I’d say fuck him.”

“I’ve been trying to.”

He shoves you out of the store and you almost stumble next to a person.

“I’m joking! Give me a serious answer then.”

He crosses his arms and squints his eyes before raising a brow, “Why? Who’s this guy? What’s his name?”

You give him a look.

He matches it but he gives in, “Someone like Childe? There’s no one like him. As much as I shit on him, he has a good character, and I respect that. So I’d say unless you’re bringing the real one, don’t come home at all.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, my dear sister…” Thoma opens his mouth then shuts it close only to shake his head as if constricting himself, “Don’t worry about it.”

“What?”

He shrugs and says nothing more.

You follow your brother, pushing back the conversation you had despite the questions ramming your head every thirty seconds.

But when you pass by a cosmetic store, a new thought comes to mind.

“You should buy him skin care.”

NOTES:

👀👀 i’m on a roll with these updates

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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TAGLIST (OPEN): @thegalaxyisunfolding @stratusworld @tiramizuloz @miy-svz @trulyylee @batatinhafriita @scaradooche @yuminako @m1njizzie @mtndewbajablasted @fadedpinkpen @vavrin @kioffy @kokoomie @ashveil @tired-jaz @nia333 @riabriyn @kyon-cherri @kitsunetori @morgyyyyyyy @kazumiku @ichorstainedskin @hanilessa @s4ikooo1 @matolka @appy-slicez @monocerosei @mostlymoth @heathnyfangirl @meigalaxy @x-hihihi-x @lunaavity @ladyofpandemonium @coffeeisbehindyou @mentallyunpresent @wrangleanangel @littlesliceofcheese @ell1e2010 @vi0let-writes @strawbyan @blupi02 @eccendentesiast-sapphic @aixaingela @fo-love @mickey-d-luffy @nanfufu @cryoarchoness @li-x1nyu @crucnhice @jayzioxx @lumineskies @scalyalpaca @saechiro @tojisball @lulumallow @idkwhattoputasmyusernme

[ssaluss]

Im also kinda shy, im not used to interactions this long but it has been so great to just delve into this. Nice to hear you're enjoying it as much as i ^^

Just cause i thought of some thinks that may add and/or help...

Not going to add at his origin just wanted to point out movie shadow's model has lighten-up gap in his inhibitors that resembles me a lot of silver's ones (not going to spoil just to be safe, but when he does a thing it do light up with energy). Just a funny thing ive found reading through the wiki cause i just do like doing that, aparently shadow has shown telekinesis before but i have to check it for myself before affirming.

I like to think that his cuffs are focusers, in this AU i do want to say that silver don't really fully capable inhibitors cause his chaos energy is weaker than shadow's so his body can handle it better and even use more at a time, he has less but by so he don't become overhelmed by it, its more efficient in other words, so just having a way for it to not blow in his face would be really helpful, and with GUN wanting something easier to control i think it fits.

Also, angst territory, as we don't know how hard it is to truly end shadow for once and for all, id say GUN was happy that if Silver ever went rogue, he would, of course be resistent and strong, but not as hard to end like shadow.

Idk how small silver was so, as im using movie shadow again cause his model is really well made, his rings have a joint were the two halves connect, i wanna say that Silver's do it too and that's why even when he grew up he just adjusted their size (don't fix if its not broken and your world is a litteral hellhole).

Shadow with separation anxiety YEEEEES!!! Anyway, i too see him fighting quite a lot as a caring person, i like him being in terms with Maria's death and not being really reliant in her to just function at all, but her influence makes me thing that some level of naivety and a child-like wonder make him a little compeled at helping, and silver is full of it, even in 06 when he finally sees a world not destroyed by the flames, i think a small bit about silver finally getting proper, home made food for the first time, so much angst potential and we don't even have to enter te alien stuff yet.

To season the angst, they interacting, even tho is akward, fills this feeling of this friendship already being doomed. Bear with me a little, shadow is not one to talk a lot, he's my one liner king, but he does just stay there menancingly, i think he would notice the moments that silver just acts with an almost childish excitement of being part of something, in wich he does not have in any other place, but everytime he looks and silver looks back its just kinda weird, they're not friends after all, both fear to connect with others, sometimes for the same, sometimes for different reasons.

Silver is not the calmest of the bunch, after the reveal he would either freak out like anyone would or he might be consumed by the power within. Anyway, it makes shadow act, be by conforting be by confronting.

I know the "green blood thing" and i just don't like the aesthetics of it lol it being black do be harder to see (and yeah, shadow with black blood has SO much potential, and Silver too cause its painfully on sight for him)

Silver being controlled by the hivemind could go so many ways its hard to decide, and i like eclipse too i miss some of my archie boys ( *cof* shard *cof*). To not tie this to anything maybe shard could be to silver what biolizard is to shadow? A first draft without all the needed materials, maybe made with stored remnants of the black comet, a full Black arm that could not be easily controlled and scaped, maybe he does have his archie origins, maybe he was the last of his kind that was spared cause shadow couldn't know that black doom had a backup plan. Idk, too much possibilities.

The other way is someone experimenting with it, maybe this time it could be eggman (i do not like GUN that much cause they're shady but is getting repetitive) he is experinenting and make a prototyoe to try and control shadow after his last fiasco, he knows that a controlled shadow could be usefull and maybe he would be easier to lure if he plays it right... just for it to not work with shadow, its too weak for someone who fought the leader and won, even his little scheme of a big fight to worn him out can't seem to work, nothing! So he discards it somewhere in the battlefield as sonic finds him and starts their weekly banter...

He goes off before he could see Silver just staring blanky in the direction he trew the prototype, wich ends with him not being able to stop the heavy hit coming. Everything goes black for a second before he recovered enough (the enemy is the robot he crumpled, maybe)

As they were fighting robots and i see silver as kinda of hardstrong, he just says the black thing in his head is grease if anyone asked (not shadow to, my boy knows this well enough).

--------

Reading the fic im just WOW

WOW

W O W

If you need any help writing it and filling things, and if you want ofc, we can talk more about it? Im not good at making coherent things but i can help if you need ^^ and i did love the concept and writing this with you S2

People talking about what if Shadow was Silver’s dad y’know but NOT ONCE have I seen anyone say that if that’s true, then Silver has black arms blood

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Chasing Ghosts.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader (platonic)

Summary: Everything in your life is finally under control and almost perfect, but somehow chasing the ghost of Aaron Hotchner is still an obsession.

Words: 1,9k.

Warnings & Tags: angst WITHOUT a happy ending. hotch being an absent father figure. so much angst (yes, again). temporarily located after he leaves the FBI. same reader as in "tall child" but several years after that. so inspired by “like him” by tyler, the creator and all the edits with the song that I see. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I've been having trouble getting through the second part of "Tall Child" (if you're wondering if I'll write one, yep, and I hope to upload it soon but I'm so blocked:c). This idea came to me out of the blue because I, too, feel abandoned when I start watching the episodes after Hotch leaves<///3.

The quiet hum of the BAU filled the air, the same familiar rhythm of paperwork being shuffled, pens scratching against files, and the faint sound of voices from down the hall. The office you were in—Emily’s office now—still carried faint echoes of what it used to be. The desk was different, the decor had shifted, but the weight of the space hadn’t changed. It was still steeped in years of hard decisions, late-night strategizing, and memories that lingered even when the man who made them had gone.

Gone. Gone. Gone.

You sighed as you sifted through a stack of reports, scanning them for inconsistencies. It wasn’t even your responsibility—you were just helping out, filling a gap as the team caught up on their endless backlog. You’d been in this office countless times since Aaron had left, but it still felt strange. Like you didn’t quite belong. Like you were stepping on sacred ground that no longer had a place for you.

Being here without him was like being in a different place.

You’d been trying not to think about it, about how long it had been since he left. A year now, maybe more. You weren’t counting. Or so you told yourself for mental health. But in moments like this, standing in what used to be his space, surrounded by the echoes of his presence, it was impossible not to feel the sting of his absence.

You didn’t blame him for leaving—not entirely. Jack deserved his father, a life of peace away from the chaos of the FBI. You’d even admired his courage for walking away from something he’d dedicated his life to…You knew you would never do something like that; he was brave. But nothing of that softened the sharp edge of hurt that had been lodged in your chest ever since the day he said goodbye by a stupid piece of paper.

The truth was, he hadn’t just left the Bureau and all the atrocities that this entailed. He’d left you.

Your eyes flicked toward the desk, now Prentiss’s, and for a moment, your fingers brushed its edge. It was ridiculous how something as simple as the grain of the wood could bring back a flood of memories—of late nights, terse discussions, and the way his voice would take on that steady, commanding tone that somehow made you feel both safe and seen. The way he scolded you when you did things against protocol, the way he almost smiled when he thought you didn't notice, and most of all, the way he left overnight.

A soft knock at the door snapped you back to the present. You looked up, startled, to see Rossi leaning casually against the doorframe. His sharp eyes seemed to take in everything—the reports, your posture, the way your hand still rested on the edge of the desk, as though anchoring you to something unseen.

“Working hard, or hardly working?” he quipped, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

You mustered a weak smile. “Just helping Emily with the backlog. Thought I’d clear some of this off her plate.”

He nodded, his gaze drifting around the room. It lingered on the desk, the walls, and the chair before settling back on you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something knowing—that made your stomach twist.

“You’re in here a lot,” David observed, his tone casual but laced with something deeper.

More than a lot for someone who was supposed to stop doing it on the advice of her therapist.

Because you don’t need to keep hiding you in work. Your life was good now, or so you kept telling yourself. You had settled into your role on the team, earned the respect of your colleagues, and built a rhythm that felt steady, even fulfilling. You went home to a warm apartment that didn’t feel so empty anymore, filled with little things that made you smile: books on the coffee table, cozy blankets, a half-dead plant you kept forgetting to water. You even start to have casual dates sometimes to open your heart to the world.

“Just helping,” you repeated, more curtly than you really intended.

“Hmm.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the desk. “You know, you’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“What?” you asked, your tone, again, sharper than you intended. The defenses around you were activating automatically.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk on his lips betrayed him. “Nothing. Just…noticing things.”

Your jaw tightened. Working with profilers meant every word, every movement, was analyzed. You hated it so much in these moments.

“What?” You demanded, unable to keep the irritation from your voice.

He tilted his head, studying you with that maddening patience of his. “You make the same expressions he used to.”

No. No. No.

Do not mention him. Don't make even the slightest reference to him. Don't think about him. Don’t.

The air seemed to leave the room. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. “What are you talking about?” you asked, though you knew. Of course, you knew.

“The furrowed brow when you’re deep in thought,” he said, his voice softer now. “The way you purse your lips when you’re frustrated but trying to hide it. And now, in this desk…you’ve always been like him. Always will be.”

You’re just like him? You look like him?

A bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Great. I’ve picked up his bad habits too.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Rossi said gently, his voice softer now. “It just means he left a mark.”

You turned away, pretending to focus on the files in front of you, but the words hit harder than you wanted to admit. Of course, Hotch had left a mark. How could he not? He’d been your anchor, your mentor, your constant—even when you were at odds. And then he’d left. He’d walked away from the BAU and from you as if you were disposable.

“Doesn’t matter,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. “He’s gone.”

Rossi didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. “Still angry at him?”

The question hit you like a gut punch, and for a moment, you couldn’t respond. Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as if the physical discomfort could drown out the storm in your chest. “I’m not angry,” you said, the words escaping your lips faster than your brain could catch them.

It was much more complex than that. Your feeling was more akin to disappointment than anger or rage because you knew you could never hate him.

He didn’t press further, instead leaning more comfortably against the desk, as if he had all the time in the world. “You know he wanted a life for Jack,” he countered, his voice measured. “You can’t blame him for that.”

“I’m not blaming him,” you said, though it felt like a lie even as you spoke it. “But I don’t get why he had to leave everything.” you snapped, the sharpness of your voice startling even yourself. You turned away, staring hard at the stack of files, though the words on the pages blurred into meaningless lines. “He could’ve stayed in touch. But he didn’t.”

Zero calls, zero messages, zero signs that at least you mattered to him.

Rossi sighed, his expression softening with something like sympathy. “Aaron’s always been good at one thing: convincing himself that distance is the best way to protect the people he cares about.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. It didn’t make it hurt your heart any less. Nothing could ever dispel the pain, nothing but the embrace of the same person who provoked it.

There was a long pause before he spoke again, his tone lighter, almost teasing. “You know, there’s a way to settle this.”

You frowned, glancing up at him. “What are you talking about?”

Without a word, Rossi reached into his pocket. The sound of his hand brushing against the fabric of his jacket broke the tension like a crack of thunder in the stillness. He pulled out a small card and held it between two fingers, his expression unreadable as he extended it toward you.

“What’s this?” you asked, the words coming out more hesitant than you wanted.

“His number,” he said simply. “It changed.”

Your eyes dropped to the card, to the string of numbers printed neatly on its surface. For a moment, all you could do was stare. It felt like the weight of the entire room had shifted onto that tiny slip of paper. Your fingers twitched at your side, aching to grab it, yet rooted to the spot.

“I’m not calling him,” you said, though your grip on the card betrayed your uncertainty.

David smiled knowingly, as if he’d already won. “I didn’t say you had to. But if you ever want to talk to him, you’ve got the number.”

You shook your head. “No. If he wanted to talk to me, he would’ve called. He hasn’t.”

“Maybe he thinks you don’t want to hear from him,” Rossi countered. “Maybe he’s giving you space.”

“Space?” you repeated, the word bitter on your tongue. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Abandoning people?”

“He didn’t abandon you,” Rossi countered firmly, though there was no edge in his tone, only understanding. “He left because he had to. For Jack. For himself. And maybe—just maybe—he thought you were strong enough to handle it.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and you turned away, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay. You hated how much they affected you, how much he still affected you. “Well, he was wrong,” you muttered, the words barely audible.

Rossi didn’t argue, didn’t press. “You don’t have to use it,” he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But if you do, maybe you’ll figure out that he didn’t leave you. He just…left.”

With that, he stepped back and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing softly down the hallway until they disappeared altogether, leaving you alone in the thick, suffocating silence.

Your eyes fell back to the card on the desk. It seemed out of place there, too bright and clean against the chaos of papers and reports. You stared at it as if it might leap off the desk and demand an answer. But it just sat there, motionless, yet somehow unbearably loud.

Your grip tightened, the edges of the card biting into your palm. And then, with a sharp, decisive motion, you tore it in half. The sound was quick, final, like the snap of a cord that had been fraying for far too long. You tore it again, and again, the pieces falling to the desk in a jagged, fragmented pile. Each rip felt like releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, like reclaiming some small measure of control over the chaos he’d left behind.

When the pieces were no more than scraps, you gathered them up and marched to the trash can. You dropped them in, the fragments fluttering down like ashes from a fire long extinguished. You stared at them for a moment, your chest heaving, your emotions still raw but now dulled by the act of destruction.

Turning back to the desk, you sank into the chair, forcing your focus onto the reports in front of you. The room still felt heavy, the ghost of his presence lingering in the corners, but you pushed it aside. There was work to do. There was always work to do.

And after all, you were just like him.

[steviewashere]

I saw everybody sharing their fave fanfics they read over the course of 2024, so I thought I'd go ahead and share some that I've bookmarked! Heads up, I may have recommended a few of these before in my attempts to do recommendations in previous months, but it doesn't hurt anybody to share them again.

Also, as always, heed all archive warnings, tags, and ratings for each piece. Be kind, leave kudos and comments, and most importantly, happy reading! <3

My 2024 Fave Fanfics in No Particular Order:

Yours (all along) by ohstars | @oh-stars "Eddie Munson has spent the last ten years trying to move on from the collapse of Hawkins. Now he's starting at a new school on the coast of South Carolina with the hopes that he can find some kind of peace in this new life of his. Of course, that's turned on his head when a freshman decides to get under his skin and when that freshman's parents happen to be his nemesis (and love of his life) and one of his former best friends? Eddie's certain the universe has it in for him. Now he has to navigate teaching his enemy's child and dealing with the Incident that started it all, that he's been running away from this whole time. Is it time to start running? Or will Eddie finally be brave enough to tackle his feelings head on?" Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 16/16 | Steddie

keep my hand in yours by cydonic "Eddie Munson, a cleaner at a regional airport in Indiana, finds a boy asleep on the floor outside Departure Gate A3 on Christmas Eve. Eddie's always had a soft spot for strays, so he takes Steve Harrington home for the holidays." Explicit | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

my heart has changed (my soul has changed) by Chubbypeachh "Four years after the breakup that broke Steve Harrington, he's face to face with Eddie at a New Year's Eve party." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

The Dearest and Best by emchant3d | @emchant3d "Eddie never second guessed that Wayne had him. Always. No matter what. Until he was gone." Mature | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Eddie & Wayne, Steddie

sometimes by kas_eddie_munson | @kas-eddie-munson "And he knew, really, it was silly. But he thought maybe he could get bits and pieces of that if not the whole thing. Maybe he would never have his dream job, but he could do something similar. Play his guitar at bars on the weekend, teach kids music lessons, or work at a record shop. Maybe he would never find someone who could put up with all his dramatics and energy full time, but he’d have a girlfriend, eventually, for a while. And here he was. Couldn’t even sell weed anymore, couldn’t get out of bed without help sometimes, could barely get out of the house without help, certainly couldn’t drive. The new trailer didn’t even have steps, it had ONE step. And that was enough to stop him from moving up and down with a wheelchair. ONE step. ~~~ Or, everything is different after Vecna. Eddie Munson's body will never be the same, and neither will he." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

Follow Your Heart by steddiecameraroll | @steddiecameraroll "Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop. “Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into. “You ok?” The man asks. Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in the knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now. -or- Eddie keeps seeing a man he bumped into and for some reason can't stop thinking about him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

don't say nothing's wrong by MomotoneScreaming | @momotonescreaming "“If you’re gonna continue to bully me, dude,” Steve starts, brows furrowing; lips pursed in a tight, angry line. “I don’t think I want to be your friend anymore.” or A Dustin Henderson character analysis" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steve & Dustin

safe and sound by sidekick_hero | @sidekick-hero "What happens when Steve meets Eddie Munson, who has just failed his senior year for the first time, during one of his nightly drives?" Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie

I Love You (it's ruining my life) by LadySlytherin "Steve Harrington is three years old the first time he coughs up a flower petal. He's nineteen when he learns the flowers in his lungs are finally killing him. Sometimes, things are more complicated than they seem...and sometimes, they're a whole lot simpler." Teen and Up | Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings | Chapters: 3/3 | Steddie

you still dance but you're out of time by Atalia_Gold | @ataliagold "“Because what, Steve?” Oh, he’s dropped the Harrington now, and Steve knows he’s fucked, knows Hopper’s not going to back off. “Because I can’t fucking sleep, ok?” Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and broken. “When I do, I dream about…about the fucking Upside Down, about my friends dying, about me being too slow to save them, and I wake up screaming. And I can hardly get to sleep anyway because these,” Steve yanks his three layers up, reveals the marred skin on his sides, “keep me awake.” Hopper’s face is stony, unreadable. For a moment, Steve feels some sick kind of gratification that he’s managed to render the man speechless. That he’s made somebody care. ***** Until now, nobody's worked out that Steve's essentially homeless, living in his car. But one night, when Steve's cold and alone and in pain, Hopper chances across him." Teen and Up | No Archive Warnings | Chapters: 1/1 | Steddie, Steve & Hopper

I read so many other fics over the course of 2024. Unfortunately, I am the kind of person who often doesn't use their brain or resources, so I didn't bookmark everything I read over the whole year. Anyway. Hopefully, this new year will be better for us all—even if you thought 2024 was your best, may it get better anyway—and also, of course, may Steve/Eddie stay in our brains and hearts.

I've had such a fun year writing. (For Christ's sake, I wrote over 100 fics like I was going to die at any moment.) And I've already got a few fics coming out within the first two weeks of January. Also, so many other fics planned out for the rest of the year; as well as fics that I'd like finish—looking at you, Mer Steve, my Stommy fic, and Single Parent Eddie/Hairstylist Steve. I'm sure I'll be a mess of words all year, hair wild as I try to complete challenges, but it's fun at the end.

Love y'all, thank you for a marginally great 2024! Seriously, 2025, please be better for my soul.

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 6

Part 1 can be found here. AO3

Shout out to @xbirdiex

Saturday moved with ease, John and Nyla joined you in taking the boys to the planetarium and lunch before dropping by the park for the regularly scheduled play date with other neighborhood kids.

Nyla stretched upon climbing out of your van. The ride from downtown to the park closest to your house had taken much longer than expected. There were several accidents on the freeway that delayed you by nearly an hour.

“I’ll be taken myself on a walk, you youngin’s watch the bairns.” With that, she strode with purpose on the path that circled the park.

The boys released themselves from their seats and took off screaming like only a seven-year-old can. Sharing a look with John you grab your park blanket from the back before locking the van.

John rubbed the back of his neck; he had been stuck in the back with the boys who talked the entirety of the car ride.

“They sure do have a lot of energy.”

Laughing you lead the way to a relatively flat spot of grass and lay out your blanket.

“They sure do. If you can believe it this is less energy than they used to have.”

Aghast John stares at you deep concern etched between his brows. It triggered a whole ‘nother round of laughter. Wiping your eyes free of the joyful tears you go on to explain.

“Toddlers have more energy but fewer words and are arguably much harder to care for. They are attracted to death, finding things that can kill them everywhere.”

“How did you manage?” He glances from you to the children crawling over the park equipment like ants over a corpse.

“Larsen mostly.” You smile softly thinking of your best friend.

John leans back on his hands, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Tell me about him?”

“Larsen?” You question, surprised.

“Mom!” Mac comes racing up to you, “There is a kid that is throwing bark at people.”

“Okay, is he still doing it or did his grown-up take care of the problem?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so it sounds like it has been taken care of right?” You lift a brow in conjunction with your question.

“Yeah,” Mac nods once before taking off at the same speed he arrived.

Blowing out a breath you glance to John and roll your eyes about your child’s antics.

“What do you want to know about Larsen?”

“Let’s start at the beginning, how did you meet?”

You can’t help the smile that blooms across your face.

“We met in second grade, about the same age the boys are now. We became the best of friends and were thick as thieves. Larsen lived outside the boundaries of our school but his parents used one of his grandparent’s addresses to get him into a ‘better school’.” You roll your eyes at that but continue. “We stayed friends all through school. He was my best friend. So many people in high school thought we were dating. Made it so hard to get a boyfriend.”

John laughed at the bitter cast to your voice. “Seems like it turned out well for you though.”

Canting your head side to side you decide how to explain.

“Larsen didn’t like the idea of romantic love; never had a partner because of it. When I got the news I was pregnant he was my first call.” You chuckle at the memory now, “I told him everything that had happened and you know what my best friend did? He offered to marry me over the phone.”

You pause your tale to yell at Jace to get down, the outside of the equipment is not meant for playing.

Picking up the story where you had left it you continue, “I said yes, obviously. He was the best partner I could have asked for. You are staying in his old room actually. We didn’t have a conventional marriage but he loved the boys fiercely; said he would be their father before anything else in his life. Damn man nearly passed out during delivery though.”

The memory still makes you smile, both your mom and Larsen’s had come to help with delivery. He didn’t even hold a leg as you pushed out the boys but one glance at your nether regions and the blood gushing from your vagina had him pale and had his mom shoving him into a chair with a ‘you are not going to pass out, we are all busy right now.’ The midwife team had laughed at that with you as you laughed out Jace. Mac had already been whisked away to get cleaned up.

“He sounds like a good man, the boys talk about him sometimes,” John is contemplative in his tone.

You curl your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your chin down too.

“His death shocked us all. He had an aneurysm at work, gone before the paramedics arrived.”

“Not a bad way to go all things considered,” John mused aloud.

“Noah MacTavish! Get down now!” Mac makes a guilty face as he is caught scaling the play structure. “No, it could have been worse. He left us with a healthy chunk of life insurance and because he passed at work we got all the life insurance money from that fiasco. I paid off the house and invested the rest. I opened my cake decorating business within a few months of his passing to pay for our daily expenses, got all three of us in therapy, and then the boys started Kindergarten soon after. Larsen’s mom, Crystal, and my mom both stepped up in amazing ways.”

John is looking at you when you glance his way, the depth in his gaze sends shivers across your skin. The last time you had seen that look on his face had been in the weeks you were avoiding Simon on base. A deep contemplation as he mulled over his thoughts, you thought even then that it made him more attractive than should be reasonable.

Turning back to watch the boys you finish your thought.

“They both take the boys one day a week for a few hours so I have time to clean house or make deliveries or go to the doctor without an entourage.”

“Now Nyla is here and hopefully soon they will have more people to share the load,” John whistled, the sharp sound had both boys stopping their poor choices.

Speaking of Nyla caused her appearance avoiding the need for you to reply that you didn’t know if Simon and Johnny would want to be involved.

The boys played for a while longer before the three adults hustled them into the car and home for dinner.

Sunday morning saw you waking early with the boys, feeding them before sending them off to play in the backyard. Nyla and John were both able to sleep later than the six am wake-up you had.

Nearing nine am, Jace tore in through the back door as you work on the cake due today. He is holding his groin, a face of slight panic as he busts into the downstairs bathroom. You don’t remember the problem with him using that toilet until John’s startled voice sounds from the open door.

“Hello?”

“I have to go potty,” comes Jace’s quick reply.

“Ah.”

“Does your penis ever get stuck in your clothes?”

Oh no, now they are having a shower conversation. All of your focus is on the sounds drifting from the now-open door.

“Sometimes it does kiddo.”

Fuck. How do you deal with this? Jace will be done soon and John should have locked the door.

“Huh. Okay.” The toilet lid slams and you can hear Jace washing his hands before he reappears to go back to playing.

Now the question is, do you flush the toilet and shut the door? Yes. John deserved to shower in peace. As you reach the door you announce yourself.

“Don’t mind me, I am just going to take care of the step Jace missed.”

“Thanks, dove,” John’s voice drifts down over the shower curtain and you stop yourself from imagining anything that might join that thought.

“I am also going to lock the door so Mac doesn’t do the same thing to you.” Flushing the toilet you step back out of the room. John laughs as you lock the door and pull it shut tight.

Turning you find Nyla looking at you all concerned. By way of explanation, you say, “Jace busted in on John.”

She laughs with you at the absurdity of the situation and follows you back into the kitchen as you wash your hands and prepare to keep decorating a cake for a teenage birthday order. Their parent would be coming by in two hours for their delivery.

“I am going to visit with my boys.”

Your stomach tightened painfully at those words. The small smile you give her doesn’t mask the tension in your body. She pulls you into a motherly side hug, touching her head to yours before wandering from the kitchen. The front door opens and closes in near tandem with John stepping from the bathroom.

Fully clothed, steam billows around him as he shoves a bundle of clothes under one arm.

“That cake is the ugliest set of colors I have ever seen,” his brows nearly touch as he stares at the orange monstrosity sitting atop your counter.

“Oh I know but it’s only going to get worse,” you grab another container filled with your homemade frosting and begin to whip in a pale mint color.

“Worse?” John moves into the kitchen and around the counter to look down into the bowl you are using your hand mixer on. “Is that some kind of green?”

“Mint, but yes. Kid is turning thirteen and their two favorite colors are orange and mint. Mom wanted to combine both on the cake. Sent me reference photos and everything.” Turning off the hand mixer you set it to the side and ready your piping bag for a transfer. “Any fun plans today?”

John moves back around the kitchen island and settles both himself and his bundle of clothes onto a chair.

“I have a few stops I need to make but then will be back around lunch.” He is watching you as you spin your piping bag and start to drape strings of mint icing along the edge of the cake.

“Okay my mom will be here soon for the boys,” you glance at John as you tell him why, “She likes to take them to church.”

He pulls a face as he mutters, “Lovely.”

“I feel the same but if it keeps the peace and means she will take them on a weeknight too, I will allow it for now. I will probably use the time they are gone to deep clean the house before Simon and Johnny come over tomorrow.”

A scream from the backyard has you checking out the kitchen window to confirm no broken bones or blood, finding none you shift back to what you are doing.

“Do you clean because you’re stressed or because they are going to see more than the front room?” John lightly tapped his fingers against the counter, the sound barely traveling to your ears.

Sticking your tongue out in lieu of an answer John laughs. He rises as the knock sounds at the front door. Your mother comes in and chats with you a moment before collecting your boys who both give you a hug and a kiss before trailing out the door after grandma. John pokes his head into the kitchen to let you know he is leaving. And then you are alone.

Blasting music through the house you finish decorating, send a text to your client that she can pick up the cake any time before two pm, and set about cleaning the house. When Nyla reappears she jumps in by stripping all of the beds and starting the wash. By the time the boys and John appeared the house looked cleaner than it had been for Larsen’s wake. The scent of cleaning chemicals masked with lemon could be smelled in every room in the house.

Your pickup happens neatly at one, the mother gushing that the cake matches the vision and her kid is going to be so pleased. Nyla made sandwiches while you had finished cleaning the last bathroom. Sitting down at the table John announced that he would be sending both you and Nyla to a movie and then dinner.

“Are you sure you want to handle the boys?” They both grin up at you like innocent devils.

“We will have fun, won’t we boys?” John winks at them as they cheer.

At Nyla’s shrug, you accept the offer. A quick shower for yourself and the two of you were out the door, giggling at the thought of John managing the boys. The movie was your choice followed by Nyla’s pick of restaurant. Darkness had fallen by the time you both made your way through the garage and into the TV room.

Flung across the couch were three sleeping bodies. Jace slept sitting up against John. Mac rested his head against John’s thigh. John sat upright, head notched over the top of the couch and hands still gripping the controller for the game console that showed they had died again while playing Minecraft.

You lifted Jace first, fighting your way up the stairs with his body koala tight to you. Settling him in bed you turn and find a squinting John stepping into the room Mac wrapped around him. He settles your boy down with a gentle touch and even covers him to the chin with his blankets.

Waiting at the door, you pull it closed after John has slipped from the room.

“How were they tonight?” You whisper in the dark hallway.

“Good, we played board games, hide and seek, read some books, ate dinner, and then fell asleep playing video games.” His tone is even, steady beyond the sleep in his voice.

“Thanks for keeping them tonight John, it was nice to go out with Nyla.”

You can’t see what he does but his fingers find yours for one squeeze.

“They are good boys. I am happy to spend time with them and give you more time to get to know their grandmother,” he whispers back to you.

Tightening your fingers on his you fight the warm ball growing in your chest.

“Goodnight John.”

“Goodnight dove.”

A/N: The next chapter is The Talk™ 😬

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @sweetlike-sugarplum @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny @sleep101 @callsignbumblebee @lucienofthelakes

[thefandomenchantress]

General Thoughts About Eden's Garden

I have, at long last, finished chapter one of Eden's Garden. And I really liked it! While it wasn't perfect, I still really enjoyed playing it and am very glad I got to experience it. Since I wasn't around for the Another fangames, this is the first time I've been able to keep up with a project like this as it's coming out, and it's been really cool.

So, without further ado, let's get started! Project Eden's Garden spoilers below. :)

I'll start with my criticisms, since I don't have a lot of them. Honestly, my biggest complaint has to be the technical issues I faced while trying to play this game instead of watching it. But I'm not going to sit here and pretend making a game is easy by any means, so I don't really hold that against the game, even if it was frustrating.

Plus, I'm an idiot. I sat for like half an hour trying to figure out the Non-Stop debate controls and thinking my WASD thingy was malfunctioning and not letting me switch truth bullets, when there was only one truth bullet I was allowed to use at the time. I was just being stupid and not catching on when it only showed me one truth bullet in the corner, haha. The repeated crashing of my game, however, wasn't my fault. But I was able to get my hands on a work-in-progress low-spec version of the game that stopped most of the crashing and stuff! After that, most issues went away, except for after the trial ended and the after-trial dialog wouldn't pop up, leaving me on a black screen even after a restarted my computer and tried a few more times. But I'm not too unhappy about that, it's not like I was missing any riveting gameplay sections, haha. I could just watch the YouTube version of the execution and stuff.

Other than those technical difficulties on my end, there are only a few actual problems I had with the gameplay, haha. The first being that I am terrible at bullet hell-styled gameplay, apparently, and Argument Altercation kicked my ass in normal mode. I really wish there was a way to switch your difficulty on that, or maybe checkpoints, because after about thirty or more tries of not being able to get past stage three, I gave up and ended up just getting my hands on a save file from after the minigame. I may love videogames, but that does not mean I'm good at them, haha.

As for the actual writing, I don't have too many complaints...I suppose if I had to say something, though, it'd be that some of the characters felt like they didn't have enough to do this chapter. Ulysses is probably the main one I felt this applied to, even if I love him, he didn't give us too much this chapter, other than a lore drop during the pharmacy investigation (His limited screentime didn't stop me from growing attached to him, though haha). Other characters, despite getting a little more screentime, felt like they didn't really develop at all in the grand scheme of things. But I don't want to focus in on this too much, since it's only chapter one and most characters usually don't start having any big changes until a murder occurs. And the disproportional screentime may just be the writing style of Eden's Garden being that they focus on a certain group of characters each chapter, when they have the most relevance. Wenona, for example, feels like she's being set up to be a larger player down the line, even if she wasn't a super major character this chapter.

There was a lot more I liked about the chapter than disliked, though! All the characters really grew on me, for the most part. Well...Almost everyone. There is one character who I'm kinda meh on right now, since I'm not quite sure what they're going for yet. He's entertaining, I like him fine, but he's not quite on the same level as everyone else. And that character is:

Jett.

Honestly, I think the main reason I'm having trouble is just how he treats Toshiko.

Jett, why are you picking on a literal child??? What are you doing??? This wouldn't bother me if I knew an explanation for it that gives cool insight into his character, but as is I'm just kinda annoyed at him for it. Then again, I haven't bothered to experience any of his FTEs yet, so it's possible he gives some sort of explanation for his child-belittling ways there, haha.

The Mark and Jett thing was fine, I'm liking the set-up there. I think the only difference that makes me like the Jett and Mark stuff over the Jett and Toshiko stuff is that Damon actually calls Jett out for not respecting Mark's boundaries, meanwhile no one really reprimands him for belittling Toshiko because of her age. When he shares her blackmail, no one says "Hey, man, that wasn't very cool of you." They just shrug Toshiko's blackmail off and say no one should share anything else. Wolfgang even calls her blackmail a "joke". No wonder Toshiko is so desperate to be respected, everyone but Ingrid is so rude to her (I can forgive Grace, though, because the gremlin bit was the funniest thing in the prologue to me).

Of course, if they end up calling out his behavior towards her later, as well as everyone else's, I'll be happy and probably end up liking him more. His whole never taking off his helmet thing is pretty cool, I'm interested to see where that goes and to see any character development he has. And him and Cassidy's little friendship being established through gaming was fun.

...Writing all this out actually made me appreciate Jett a little more, since I don't think I would be able to say this much about some of the other characters...I mean if I felt something other than passive enjoyment maybe they’re doing something right…

Oh, right, there were other characters this chapter. Let's get onto them!

Damon was just as entertaining as last time, I'm excited to see what happens next with him. Him letting Diana defend herself made it seem like he was going to be more empathic to others and improve, but Eva betraying him might mean he starts trusting the others even less than before.

In daily life, Eva...Might've been my favorite. Don't get me wrong, Kai is still my favorite character overall, but I loved Eva in daily life so much. Her "Bweh..." and "Raaaage..." voicelines are some of my favorites in any fangan and I'm happy I experienced all her FTEs. I loved her in daily life, deadly life was...Still fine and good, the execution was super well-animated and cool. But her being the culprit did sort of undercut my enjoyment a little, since it sort of calls into question the truthfulness of certain aspects of her character that made me like her. Still really cool, though.

Kai was great. I'm going to make a post dedicated to him later, where I'm sure I'll ramble on and on for a while, so for now I'll keep it brief. He was just as funny as last time, surprisingly helpful in the class trial, his large amount of screentime was a pleasant surprise to me, I'm super excited to see if he'll be the new support, and his FTEs were really cool. I'm super hyped to ramble about everything concerning him later.

Ulysses, despite his limited screentime, managed to be pretty charming this time around. Him already telling backstory stuff to us makes me a little worried for if he'll die soon, but oh well. Him literally saying "um, actually" when he starts his objection was great. Toshiko calling him ugly in...the Prologue, I think(?), was blatantly incorrect because I really like his design. There's something about his color scheme that I enjoy, idk. Plus, owls are my favorite animal, so I was pretty much guaranteed to like his theming.

Diana being heavily suspected by the fanbase and then being suspected in-universe in the trial was cool, the whole "choose the culprit" minigame legitimately tricked me into thinking it was her for a hot minute...Until I remembered how much unused evidence we had, haha. Excited to see where she goes from here.

Wolfgang...Damn those sprites in the Diana flashback were cool. I should definitely check out his FTEs to get a little more context, but wow. While I'm not surprised he was the chapter one victim, I'm a little disappointed we'll never hear more from him.

Grace was great, her demeanor is kinda similar to another favorite character of mine, so I've become pretty endeared to her. I'm interested in seeing where the bunny symbolism goes, and how she'll react to Wolfgang being gone. She had no FTEs (her actually responding when I tried to enter her dorm (I was doing an experiment to see if I could enter anyone but Kai's and Damon's) jumpscared me haha), so I'm guessing she'll live a bit longer and receive some character development! Yay!

Wenona was fun, her attitude was as entertaining as ever. She's probably one of the characters I most want to go do the FTEs of, I'm interested to hear more about her.

Desmond and Eloise's friendship was fun, the scene where they try to get Grace to let them in Wolfgang's room was definitely the highlight of both their characters for me this chapter. Eloise standing up for herself during the confrontation and Desmond backing her up without hesitation was awesome. Can't wait to see their friendship expanded on (And Desmond being angsty during the closing argument was hilarious).

Toshiko and Jett already had most of my thoughts laid out above. Jett I've mostly finished describing, but I did like Ingrid and Toshiko's friendship this chapter. Toshiko's whole pretending-she's-totally-not-freaking-out-and-being-actively-traumatized thing was good, I liked how she was desperate to sound smart in the trials, it fits her character.

Mark was a little ruder than I thought he'd be going in, but I'm not complaining. While I don't think anything topped "Grace, call the fire brigade" this chapter, some things got pretty close, like his annoyed facial expression when you agree with him. Him not wanting to be acknowledged at all at the gaming tournament was interesting, I'm excited to see where they take his character.

Ingrid...Was fine. I'll be honest, I was a little disappointed at how my view of her failed to change at all this chapter. Even her blackmail was something we learned in the Prologue already. Still, I can appreciate her. Even if she didn't change much this chapter, I still like what she is right now. She's all-around pretty cool, and I like how she makes sure to defend Toshiko, unlike some characters I know. /j

(Her being called "reliable" made me immediately feel like she might not last long, though... :()

Jean is pretty interesting to me so far, Cassidy suggesting that he might just be posing as a 'pirate' was intriguing. Him saying there was an arcade on his ship made me think of a crack theory that he worked at a Chuckie Cheese type place, but instead of there being a strange mouse, you could hang around at his prop ship and take pictures with him and his "crewmates" (Co-workers or employees) in costume, with an arcade and snack bar nearby...His knowledge of machinery stuff is also cool. I should check out his FTEs.

Cassidy's whole gaming gimmick is cool, and I like her, but I think if I'm being honest, her fun design and awesome voice actor kinda carry her for me. I don't think she'd be one of my favorites to hear speak otherwise. Some of her voicelines are just hilarious by themselves, too, though ("I better zip up my fly, my genius is showing" was my favorite, like what the fuck that is so random and funny and she only uses it once). She's a character who I don't think I'd find nearly as funny if the vocal delivery wasn't as on point as it is, but seeing as it's totally awesome and on point I have nothing to complain about she’s really cool haha.

And those are all my general thoughts on each of the characters. Now onto a few individual moments I really liked!

I replayed the Prologue before playing through chapter 1, and something really cool I noticed was that when they're on the train, this happens after Cassidy says she smells something weird:

I thought it was really cool how they subtly foreshadowed his lack of a sense of smell like that! The devs really thought his character through from the beginning, I suppose.

But moving on to chapter 1, specifically the trial. One detail I really liked was this:

“Near the boiler room door, I discovered a thin piece of metal.”

“During the investigation, there was a strange smell permeating the boiler room. It took me a moment to notice, but when I did…”

Damon takes credit for both the scrap metal and the smell.

This happens very directly with the metal, where he says that he discovered it. While he does admit he didn't think the metal was important before, what he fails to do is give credit to Ulysses for pointing it out to him, since Damon didn't notice it until Ulysses did. And when Ulysses did notice it, Damon berated him for even writing it down. And yet now here he is, pretending that he took note of the piece of metal all by himself.

He also takes credit for finding the smell, albeit slightly less directly. But he still makes it sound like he noticed it by himself, when Jean was the one who had to directly point it out to him. And even then, Damon could only smell the generator at first, and Jean had to further explain what he meant. And Damon pretty much plagiarizes his description of the smell without crediting him, too. You’d think a debater would know how to cite their sources correctly, haha.

So long story short, Damon fails to mention that he got help investigating from both Ulysses and Jean. I find that interesting because even though Damon says he can only rely on himself right before this trial starts, he is actively ignoring that he is only able to steer the trial in the right direction at certain points because of the help he received from others. The game is both proving his point about him only relying on himself (+Eva this trial) wrong, while also letting the player further see his mindset. Pretty cool. (Though I’d honestly be kinda pissed if I was Ulysses haha).

I also really liked Eva this chapter. Legitimately the first chapter death I've been most sad about in any Fangan. Usually I see the fake-out support thing coming a mile away, since it's such a common thing in fangans, but they genuinely fooled me with Eva. I really got attached to her and I'm sad to see her go.

I still haven't really fully processed her character, but what I do know is that she's really cool and relatable and her voice actor is very talented. Her design is amazing. Her sense of humor is immaculate. Overall, amazing character I was devastated to see go.

One cool detail I noticed, in order to commemorate my love for her:

After avoiding Grace, which Damon theorizes was because she didn't want her talent mocked, she investigates the Dining Hall people. And yet, even though she mentions Jett and Mark being unhelpful, she says nothing about Kai.

This could be shrugged off by the fact Kai said something helpful about the footsteps when Damon approached, but since Kai says this info like he hasn't shared it with anyone else, I don't think that's the case. Instead, I think this confirms Damon's suspicion that she is avoiding those who mocked her real talent, since Kai is definitely a jerk about it to her face on at least two occasions. She legitimately just didn't speak with him. That really hits home just how uncomfortable Eva was with a lot of the people in the killing game.

(I'll talk more about this in the Kai post, but Eva not mentioning Kai when you enter the dining hall, and Desmond also not mentioning where he went before that, made me actually start worrying that we were gonna find a second body haha, that's why I noticed this).

Lastly, I'd just like to say:

Even Desmond and Eloise being like "dude no stfu" at Diana in this CG was hilarious and I love it.

[ultramaga]

"Zendaya and Zoe Saldana have more or less the same body type" True, but Zoe can act, which is why she could project the character through the mask.

Although frankly I do think Zoe was more beautiful in the face.

She seems a lot more genuine. Zoe also understands how to use her body. I don't recally images of Zendaya that match, say -

If big tits were my metric, then I'd be pushing

Spectacular bosoms are dime a dozen, but star qualities are rare.

"t I sure hope you weren't implying Halle Berry is getting remembered for any stellar performance" But she was - which is why that gif was uploaded to tumblr. I didn't do it. She was good at being sexy. She was wooden at other things. That's fine - plenty of movie stars had a niche.

Charles was mocked for decades because of his lack of range.

Another European success, was Sergio Leone's Spaghetti WesternOnce Upon a Time in the West where played one of the leads.[116] Bronson had turned down Leone prior to this film for the lead in 1964's A Fistful of Dollars.[117][118] In Italy, the film sold 8,870,732 tickets.[119] In the United States, it grossed $5,321,508,[120] from 3.7 million ticket sales.[121] It sold a further 14,873,804 admissions in France[122] and 13,018,414 admissions in Germany.[123] The film was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".[124][125] The film is regarded as one of the greatest Westerns of all time and one of the greatest films of all time.[126][127][128][129] Leone called Bronson "the greatest actor I ever worked with".[130]: 123 

Bronson could do one character very, very well.

"Personally, I still think her career is young." I disagree - she's 28. In what performance did she stand out in? 28 is pretty old for a starlet. Time's a'tickin'. She was a child actress, she did theatre, and yet - she made no impact. Who cries over her performance in Spiderman? Well, Spiderman fans who miss Mary Jane, but apart from them? I'd say Tom Holland's a better actor.

I had a look at the gifs uploaded to tumblr, which mostly consists of her target audience nowadays. She's got a lot of gifs, and pretty much the same expression in each one. Sullen, bored, maybe a bit sad about her career. She's not really emoting, which is fine for an action hero, who is stoic and cold, but she's supposed to be playing the sort of woman men would die for.

All those years, and what has she done that will be remembered?

She was given part after part because she had the right skin colour. That was it. She was the non-threatening, bland, not too black, not too different, not exotic, not imposing, not interesting, just generic milk chocolate, and she was smeared onto everything.

I couldn't stand Grace Jones, I never thought she was attractive, but man, there were moments where she was brilliant. Take Conan the Destroyer. She played Zula, a warrior who relied on skill rather than brute force.

She seriously looked the part. I'm not sure she was acting.

She was old, and still touring, and still getting attention because she knew how to be commanding.

Here's my prediction - Zendaya will continue to be in everything, and everything will continue to decline - until it stops and reverses. It can't continue. She's been put in big movies, but she cannot carry the weight of those roles. She's not hot enough, charismatic enough, versatile enough, in any way enough, to be a STAR.

You know who she reminds me of?

Tessa Thompson.

She was being shoved into everything for a while there. What is she in now? She just seems to have vanished. She was sleeping with top hollywood figures, and the casting couch seemed the only explanation for her career.

And then one day, she vanished. Her youth was gone. And Zendaya took her place.

Compare that to Rosario Dawson.

She was a sex bomb. I can't even show you some of the images she became famous for - full frontal nudity, or clever use of prosthetics, take your pic.

Look at that resume. That's a proper movie star, that is. Her looks faded, and she kept going. Do I think she's the best actress? Nope. But she is good enough, and was so gorgeous that she made her mark, and can coast on that for the rest of her life.

There's clip after clip of Rosario Dawson, clips on endless loops across the world, because she didn't just look pretty, she didn't just have big boobs and a tight bod, but she could project sensuality, that was enough.

Zendaya? She just projects grey noise.

Now nobody can argue with aesthetics, you can say that mcdonald's thick shake is the best drink the Earth has produced, but I think - despite decades of training - Zendaya can not emote - she has nothing special in her voice or the way she moves, and if you find her sexy, so be it, but I think she's been carried for her whole life and the moment that support is gone ...

She'll be the girl who was in those movies, you know, the ones with ... uhhh .... she was big at the time....

I must've missed something bc can anyone tell me why everybody's talking about The Odyssey lately

[e-dubbc11]

A Christmas Wish

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smooches, mentions of Billy’s shitty childhood and a couple of swear words.

Word Count: 2.1K-ish

Summary: You love decorating the Christmas tree but Billy doesn’t and he tries to put on a smile for you so you try to make it better by giving him a few special gifts.

A/N: Greetings and Happy 2025 to my lovely friends! Hope you are well and I apologize for being quiet lately. I’ve been sick and my entire week off from work was spent trying to recover from whatever lovely cold is going around.

I tried to put this out before Christmas but obviously that didn’t happen and I’ve also been a little bummed about friendly interaction, everyone seems to have disappeared but whatever, I digress.

Oh I’m also thinking about trimming down my tag list again just because I don’t feel like wasting anyone’s time if you’re not interested in reading my fics anymore. I dunno, I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure it will pass…

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Some of them were very delicate.

The ornaments were old, made from very thin glass and passed down to you by your parents, that they received from THEIR parents. There were a handful that said “Baby’s First Christmas” followed by your name written in beautiful script. A pink bulb that was stuffed with “angel hair” was one of your favorites. That’s what your dad used to tell you when you were little which you thought was a cute story.

Billy had taken the ornament tote out of storage so the two of you could decorate the tree together. Mostly, he just sat back and let you decorate the tree. He wasn’t particularly fond of this time of year or any holiday.

A brass ornament with a sleeping baby and the year you were born, a red bauble with your name written in silver glitter on the side, and a bone ornament with your childhood dog’s name on it were a few more of your favorites.

Each ornament had a story like who gave it to you and what year, and if there was a reason they picked that particular one. The dates ranged from the time you were born up until recent years. Some of them were handmade from when you were a child that your father thought you might like to have along with the one he gave you last year with a picture of you and Billy inside for your first Christmas together.

Trimmed to perfection, which was obviously Billy’s doing, the tree stood impressively in front of one of the large windows in the penthouse so it could be seen by others, looking out from the tops of their buildings. The warm white lights shined against the dark green needles, giving off an enticing invitation that made it so you couldn’t help but stare at it.

The branches were full and abundant with plenty of room for all of your ornaments as shades of red, green, and gold bounced off the delicate glow of the white lights.

This time of year brought back so many fond memories for you. Billy couldn’t say the same thing. Growing up without a family, this time of year was just a reminder of all the holidays he spent in the group home, alone.

He didn’t have any ornaments from childhood to hang on the tree.

“The decorations they put up just made me more depressed.” He had told you. “The old pathetic little fake tree, it was all bullshit, and it just made me hate her even more for leaving. They called the group home Ray of Hope but there was nothing hopeful about that place.”

He had a mother, she had been out there somewhere but she didn’t want him. She never did. That shattered your heart, twisted your stomach into knots, and left you wondering how a mother could do that to her own child.

The darkness that comes with the winter months is hard enough so you thought a tree would light up that darkness, make it colorful, and maybe brighten his day just a little bit.

Billy put the tree up for you, because you wanted it and because he loved to see you smile, even though the Christmas season didn’t bring him any happy memories like it did for you.

But you were determined to make it better, he deserved it and you loved him more than anything.

**********

If he had ever wanted to talk about it, Billy would be the first one to tell you that his childhood was shit but he worked hard to make sure children in need would have a better Christmas than he ever did so he helped out collecting Toys for Tots during this time of year.

So he had a lot of long December days where he wouldn’t get home until late.

The lights in the penthouse were dimmed to create a warm and cozy environment for when Billy came home. The presents you had for him were nicely wrapped and sitting on the large coffee table near the couch, you picked up his favorite cookies from the bakery, and had a glass of his favorite bourbon ready and waiting for him.

His keys jingled in the door handle as he walked through the door.

“Another late one, sweet girl. I’m sorry.” Said Billy.

He was always so apologetic when he worked late but you understood.

On cold nights like tonight, you loved to sit in the dark, a fire blazing in the fireplace, relax in comfortable clothes, with nothing but the Christmas tree lights on, and quietly look out at the city skyline. You had been enjoying a cup of hot chocolate and reading your book when Billy walked through the door.

He walked over to the couch to give you a quick kiss and then head to his office but you stopped him.

“Can you sit for a minute, handsome? Please?” You asked.

He desperately wanted to get more work done before really calling it a night plus he liked to find any excuse he could to not be near the Christmas tree.

“Can it wait, baby? I just wanna get a little work done.” He said, firmly.

Normally, you could wait a little while until he was finished but tonight was different, this was for him, and you just really wanted to give him something special.

But you decided to put your foot down.

“No…actually, it can’t wait, Billy.” You said.

Billy hated to disappoint you or make you angry with him so he sat down on the couch, next to you. He noticed the present as he took a sip of bourbon.

“Did you get an early present from someone at work or somethin’?” He asked.

Biting down on your lower lip, you shook your head and tried to keep from smiling. You were excited to give him his presents.

“It’s for you, Billy.” You said, softly.

Billy set his glass down, looked at you and then looked at the box.

“But Christmas isn’t for two weeks, sweet girl.” He said with a slight smile.

You replied, “I know…open it.”

The wrapping paper was all white and you had tied a perfect bow with royal blue ribbon. His long fingers carefully untied the ribbon and set it aside. Billy then tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a large white box. As he removed the top, he stared at the blue tissue paper inside for a minute before digging around for the gifts underneath.

Billy first pulled out his United States Marine Corps ornament. He read the saying on the back out loud for you.

“From the Halls of Montezuma

To the shores of Tripoli

We fight our country’s battles

In the air, on land, and sea;

First to fight for right and freedom

And to keep our honor clean;

We are proud to claim the title

Of United States Marines.”

Billy looked over at you and started to say, “Baby, this is…”

But you stopped him.

“There’s more, my love. Keep going.” You said, kissing him on the cheek.

He found his Christmas stocking next. It looked like yours except his was red to go along with your green one and his name was embroidered at the top, in the same font to match yours, and a hook to hang it from, over the fireplace. The final gift in the box was a plain red bulb ornament with his name written in silver glitter on it, just like the one you received as a child.

You wanted Billy to have ornaments that were his and his alone for him to hang on the tree. You hoped it would make this time of year a little happier for him.

“Sometimes I forget that this time of year isn’t pleasant for everyone. I was hoping to make it a little better for you, Billy. So I got you ornaments that are just for you.” You said.

He replied, holding the stocking and glitter ornament in his hand, “They’re just like yours.”

“I wish I could take away your bad memories, but I can’t. So I thought maybe if you had new memories…that, um…” You trailed off with a hitch in your voice.

Billy didn’t let you finish. He just leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips, the sweet taste of vanilla and a little spicy from the nutmeg on his from the sips of bourbon he had a few minutes ago, and the woodsy scent of his cologne floated past your nose as you kissed him back.

The warm white lights reflected in his onyx colored eyes and his smile traveled from the curl in his lip, up to the lines around his eyes. Billy didn’t have to say how he was feeling, you could see it in his eyes, see it in his smile, and you felt it in the way he kissed you.

“These are just…I don’t…thank you, sweet girl.” Said Billy.

He looked over at the tree for the first time since he arrived home and actually smiled. Billy finally had his own ornaments to hang on the Christmas tree and he looked excited about it.

“Go ahead, baby.” You said with a warm smile.

Billy rolled his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, loosened his tie, stood up while carefully holding his ornaments, walked over to the tree and pondered about where he should place them. You knew the perfectionist in him wanted to pick out the perfect spot for them.

He found your ornament with your name written in silver glitter and he placed his on the branch next to it. Billy then found a branch near the top for his Marines ornament that he needed the stepladder to reach and he hung his stocking on the opposite end of the fireplace from where yours was. He said he had to keep it “symmetrical” which made you chuckle. There’s that perfectionist trait hard at work again.

Billy actually looked content, finding places for his ornaments and hanging his stocking on the fireplace. He finally had the experience that he didn’t get to do when he was young.

Forced to grow up faster than he should have, Billy Russo’s childhood was stolen from him by the person that was supposed to protect him and love him but she didn’t. His mother left him and never looked back so it really wasn’t a mystery of why he didn’t trust anyone, why he never got close to anyone, or why he never had a long term relationship.

You were helping him work through some of that pain and building trust so he would never have to go through any of that hurt ever again.

As he sat down, you let your head gently fall against his chest as he kissed the top of your head. You felt your eyelids getting heavy and it was a relief to close them as you pulled your legs up onto the couch. His body was a warm cradle for yours.

“I love you.” Whispered Billy, kissing the top of your head again.

With your eyes closed still, you smiled and replied, “I love you too, Billy. I just want all your Christmas wishes to come true.”

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, my love. My only wish is I wish I didn’t have to wait so long for you.” He said in barely more than a whisper.

Tears stung the back of your eyes as your heart began to race and your fingers started to tingle. All Billy had ever wanted was to be loved and something as simple as a Christmas ornament with his name on it, you knew he’d cherish it forever because it came from someone who showed him he deserved to be loved and he was worthy of affection.

You finally understood why Billy always kept you close, why he never let you wander too far from him, and why he had a hand on you at all times. Sometimes he held on a little too tight but it was because he didn’t want what he had to go away or be taken from him like it had all those years ago.

The little toy soldier that was attached to his keys was the first thing you ever gave him and he was constantly reaching into his pocket to make sure it was there. Just like the ornaments, the toy soldier might seem insignificant or small to anyone else, but to him, it was everything.

You gave him back some of the childhood that was taken from him and you will never forget the smile that stretched across his face.

Your parents always said that it was better to give than receive…and giving Billy a happy Christmas memory allowed you to finally experience what they had been talking about.

And they were absolutely right. Making Billy Russo smile really was the best feeling in the world.

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[impossiblesuitcase]

tu me cherchais?

““Hello, Michelle.” His voice was a wearier version of the one she had adored all those years ago, but it still filled her with memories and loneliness and warmth.” 

Tell him hello

When Logan first brought Selene to Michelle, he stayed in the house. No one visited her anyway and he couldn’t go into town—not with the risk of being discovered. While Selene was still in such critical condition, he would need to watch over her. Once she was stable, he would leave.   

Logan slept on the couch in the living room next to Selene’s chamber. In her current state, she was at risk of a heart attack or capture from enemies. Michelle had offered them the spare bedroom, but the suspension tank couldn’t be brought up the stairs. Once, when she passed by the staircase, she remembered the portraits on her wall. Four-year-old Scarlet playing in a sandbox. Herself and her son, a rare occasion where they were both smiling. Michelle made no effort to conceal them. Logan was far too distracted to pay attention, but she wondered—if for a moment he did—would he look at the photo of her and a three-month-old Luc and notice that she looked around the same age as when they had first met?  

She hoped he wouldn’t. A bizarre fear persisted, that he would be disappointed in her if he learnt of her failings as a mother to his son. 

During the daytime, while Logan was down in the bunker preparing it to house the body, Michelle was tasked with monitoring the child. The form was so grotesque, so mangled and inhuman that she couldn’t bear more than a cursory glance. In the evenings she would prepare them a meal. Again, Logan would eat by the child, and though Michelle initially joined him, sitting on the lounge chair by the lamp, it became too awkward. The silence. The utensils scraping on ceramic plates. The hum of the alien pod.  

The meals became simpler as she began to run out of ingredients. She had put off her usual grocery run since his arrival, worried that if she left the property and one of her neighbours flew by and noticed a man leaving her podship hanger, it would arouse suspicion. Then she realised that if the locals didn’t see her at her typical weekly outing, they might come to the house to check up on her. That would be worse.  

She never bought fresh produce from the grocer, usually just the essentials—flour and sugar and meat. On this occasion, as she attempted to escape a conversation with chatty Madame Manon Bouchard, she spied a stand of fresh dragon fruit right by the milk aisle.   

“You don’t even have zucchini?” she had once asked Logan, as they stood together in his kitchen, his hands around her waist.  

He had laughed into her hair. “Now you’re just making up words.”  

Her attempt to make a good ragout with the limited ingredients in Artemisia had left her stumped. Seeing the luxuriant meals in the cafés and restaurants, she had assumed the sparkly city was teeming with cultivation. Logan informed her that that was only the case for the rich; the less fortunate—even a well-paid doctor as himself—had fewer options.  

She peeled the carrots, chopped them and tossed them into the pot. Then came the wine. Or what was left of it; the rest in their bellies.  

She looked over her shoulder, flicking his nose. “Don’t worry. If you come to Earth, I will make you all kinds of things. With zucchini and lychee and rhubarb and dragon fruit.”  

“Sure,” he agreed with a fond shake of his head. “I’ll try your imaginary dragon fruit.”  

Michelle was struck by such an unexpected pang of emotion that she didn’t notice Manon’s offended scoff as she wandered over to the stand mid-conversation.  

That evening, she made dragon fruit tartlets for dessert. She thought, briefly, to pair it with a ragout. But she thought that might be making it a little too easy for him.  

After dinner, Logan brought the plates into the kitchen and washed them in the sink. She never asked him to do this. He always did.  

“Here,” she said, placing a plate by the dishrack. Atop it sat a perfect tartlet, drizzled with cream from her cow and strawberries from her field. “This is for you.”  

He glanced at it. “Thank you.”  

Once he was done at the sink, he sat at the kitchen table and ate. His brow was furrowed, his mind always a thousand light-years away.  

“It’s dragon fruit,” she ventured, tracing her eyes over that brow, waiting for recognition.   

Logan nodded, took his final bite and brought this plate over to the sink. “Thank you, Michelle.”  

A jolt of pain rippled through her. She turned away from him, heading to the living room. “I’ll, uh, check on the princess.”  

His grunt was all to indicate that he’d heard her. But the fruit, the memories, she knew he hadn’t remembered at all.  

———

“She couldn’t imagine how this child could sleep for her entire life and then be expected to become a queen upon her return to society. But that would be Logan’s job, whenever he returned. There were years still before anyone would know who this child was going to become.” 

———

Eight years later, Logan stayed in the bunker while they were waking Selene up, as did Linh Garan. Scarlet could never learn of their presence, yet Michelle was beginning to suspect that even if her granddaughter was removed from the equation, Logan wouldn’t risk leaving the princess’s side. He was cautious, yes, but most of all, he was manically paranoid.  

She hadn’t believed he was losing his mind, but after weeks of observing him, in surgery and in conversation and at meals, she began to believe him.  

The risk of Scarlet discovering them put her on edge, too. Thankfully school had started up again that week, so they had at least a few hours in the daytime where they didn’t need to be as surreptitious. Even then, Michelle would tense; Scarlet—the little hothead she was—tended to get into arguments at school and stomp home without any warning to her grandmother. Today was a Sunday, and Michelle had sent her off to the neighbour’s house. Old Madame Boudreaux had needed someone to help her set up a new netscreen, and fortunately for Michelle, she had a propensity for forcing all house guests to learn the history of every knick-knack and porcelain doll in her museum of a home. Scarlet wouldn’t be able to leave for several hours yet.  

This was the only time Logan was willing to be parted from Selene, no, Cinder, five days before she was to be taken away to the Eastern Commonwealth. She was caked in gel, an insect freshly emerged from its egg, slimy and tinged green. She needed to be bathed.  

Michelle had been more than hesitant to bring the child into her home, but there was no running water in the bunker. It was too difficult to carry the girl up the ladder with old bones, so the task had fallen to Garan. Although the man was set to be her adoptive father, he was rather unnatural in holding her. She hoped it was simply a product of unfamiliarity and not a sign of what kind of father he would be to the princess.  

They took her inside the house while she was still asleep. It wasn’t much different from her waking state, except for the groaning and squirming. Then Logan and Garan left Michelle with her in the bathroom. She woke as Michelle began running a warm soapy cloth over her arms, dissolving the crusted gel. A proper bath would be too aggressive for her fragile skin, the joints between flesh and prostheses still red and inflamed.  

Michelle wished the girl had stayed asleep. Odd as it may seem, Michelle wasn’t quite adept at interacting with children. Her rather disastrous upbringing of her son proved that. She only bonded with Scarlet so easily because the little hothead was just as stubborn as herself. But with this blank slate of a child, Michelle felt almost awkward.  

She grasped the shower head and gently cupped Cinder’s scalp under her palm. “All right, Cinder. Let’s wash your hair.”   

Though the water was a safe tepid she flinched, eyes tearing open and hands scrambling to grasp the corners of the bathtub. Michelle murmured soothing shhs and it’s okay’s. For the first time since waking, she looked at Michelle, awareness filling her gaze, but with it, harshness.  

Logan had assured her that the child would not wake with the mental faculties of a toddler, that the brain stimulations had successfully advanced her to the comprehension level befitting her age. Michelle was secretly unconvinced. The girl moved in a haze, more like a newborn than even a three-year-old, as though she had regressed during stasis.  

But then she would cast a look at Michelle, long and loaded, and she would feel that she had been complicit in some crime.  

Nevertheless, the hair had to be washed, so Michelle used her free hand to still the girl as she soaked the hair from roots to ends. Cinder eventually gave up in squirming, limbs still too weak to offer any form of escape.  

She made quick work of the shampoo and conditioner. With her body carefully untouched by the stream, Cinder began to shiver.   

“All done, Cinder,” Michelle assured. She sat her up and wrapped a towel around her. “Do you want to try your walking?”  

Cinder remained motionless but allowed Michelle to lift her. She groaned as she heaved the child out of the bath and set her on the ground. “Ready?”  

Cinder took the smallest step forward on the tile and immediately lurched forward. Hands at the ready, Michelle was quick to stop her from falling. Righting her, she guided gently, “That’s okay. Let’s try again.”  

Garan had been teaching her to walk and had partial success thus far. A look of concentration encased the girl’s face now as she lifted her stiff foot and forced it in front of her.   

Cinder wobbled but stayed upright. She gripped Michelle’s hand tighter.  

Through several arduous steps and a few stumbles, they reached the bedroom. Michelle considered but decided not to repeat Garan’s encouragements. “You’re doing well,” “almost there,” “good job.” They were perfunctory. No number of pleasantries could coax a ship to fly or teach a horse to run. Cinder alone would decide if she walked.  

Michelle lowered her to the bed, reaching for the outfit she had laid out. “These are your new clothes, Cinder. I have another set for you to take as well.” 

Well, they weren’t new. They came from a box of Scarlet’s old clothes from last year. Michelle had planned to donate them to the local boutique de charité and that’s where Scarlet believed they currently were. Michelle had since found an equally charitable cause for them. She would wash the ones Cinder had lived in for the past week before sending them off in a duffel bag with the girl in tow.  

The goosebumps on her skin calmed as the fleecy cotton covered her arms. Cinder weakly tugged at the sleeves, trying to pull them down with little success until Michelle intervened.  

“You’ll have a new mother soon. She’ll help you get dressed if you’re still not ready yet.”  

Michelle shimmied the pants up her legs. Her fingernail accidentally grazed the link between flesh and metal on her thigh and Cinder whimpered. Michelle flinched.  

“Désolé, chérie.” She patted her leg soothingly, moving onto the socks. Then she stepped back to evaluate.  

She would be warm, at least. Not much could be done yet about the unnatural pallor of her skin. The hair, clean but still tangled, with split ends running up to the roots, now she could do something about that.  

Michelle found her salon scissors and brush, heaving onto her knees on the bed behind Cinder. Her muscles groaned as they rested on the unsteady surface and she swayed, but the scissors stayed firmly gripped in her fist. Cinder couldn’t be trusted around them yet.  

Her fingers picked up some chunks of hair and raked through them. The girl whined even at the slightest tug. “I know it doesn’t feel nice, Cinder” she said as she worked the brush through the ends. “But we have to push through the pain to make it better.”  

Her words had run ahead of her. As the bristles danced through the brown strands, she continued, “I’ve had to do that many times in my lifetime. As will you.”  

Cinder’s shoulders drooped. With the worst knots untangled, she was a statue. 

Satisfied, Michelle lay a towel on the quilt to catch the hair and began cutting. It was long—eight years’ worth of growth—and yet it was still uneven. Michelle had a vision of this girl as a 3-year-old with oozing pus in patches over her burnt scalp. They had since healed, but the hair was brittle in some parts more than others. A good ten centimetres off should even it out.  

Michelle feathered the ends, brushing the loose hair from her shirt. “All done. Would you like to see?”  

To Michelle’s astonishment, Cinder seemed to nod. It wasn’t exactly obvious—perhaps just a meaningless reflex—but perhaps it had been intentional.   

Michelle set the scissors on the towel. It took another test of patience to help Cinder stagger back into the bathroom and Michelle’s arms were aching with exertion from carrying her by the shoulders.  

Cinder took the last few steps on her own and gripped the bench, staring at herself in the mirror. Michelle watched her.  

No expression. No recognition. There was no mirror in the bunker. Did Cinder realise this was the first time she’d seen herself since she was a toddler? Did she even comprehend that it was her? Despite how much Logan swore that she had been educated, caught up to speed on normal childhood development, had it failed?  

Was this girl not a girl, but a dead soul’s consciousness forced into a machine, functioning only through robotics and wires and machinery?  

Michelle had to grip the towel rail to steady herself.  

How could this child become queen? How could she save them all?

“Selene,” she said suddenly, then immediately shook her head, “no, Cinder. You must listen to me.” She released the rail and took the girl’s shoulders into her hands. Cinder turned to face her.  

“Cinder. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t know if they will come for you. But whatever happens, you can’t let them take everything from you.” Michelle pressed her forehead against Cinder’s, awkwardness dispelled by the divine need to impart this instruction. She conjured every ounce of motherly wisdom that she had lacked with her son, and thought about what she would tell Scarlet, had Scarlet been the girl before her.  

“They have already taken so much from you. They will want to make you a leader. They will forget that you are just a girl.” She pulled away, her eyes imploring. “When they ask you to fight, you must learn to say yes. But when they ask everything of you, you must learn to say no.” Exhaling every breath she’d taken in over the past eight years, she asked, “Okay?”  

Cinder blinked slowly through full lashes. A minuscule light darted back and forth in her left eye. A bionic eye. Fake. Her heart. Brain. Lungs. All of it.  

Maybe synthetic eyes couldn’t light up with joy or with recognition. Maybe they couldn’t convey sadness or understanding. So maybe Cinder had been understanding Michelle this entire time. Michelle was the one who had been blind. 

Cinder’s mouth opened. She began to nod. Again, it could be a meaningless tick, but then, in the quietest voice Michelle had ever heard, she spoke.  

“...O–kay.”  

———

“Grand-mère, who is Logan Tanner?”  Her grandma brushed a light kiss against Scarlet’s forehead.  “He’s a good man, Scarlet. He would have loved you.”

———

 

Cinder began speaking sparsely, mostly nos and yeses and whys. She voiced her first full sentence on the day she left. 

“Where are we going?” she asked Garan as he buckled her into her seat in the hover. 

“We’re going home, Cinder,” he explained with a light tone. Once she was strapped in, he stepped away and the door slid shut. 

Garan turned to Michelle and Logan. “Well…” he trailed off. 

“Thank you again, Garan.” Logan said sincerely, taking his hand and shaking it. “This could not have been accomplished without your skills and discretion.” His tone became grave. “And for the danger you have inflicted upon yourself, I am truly sorry.” 

Garan shook his head. “Don’t be, Logan. I am honoured to play this role in shaping history.”  

Thus far, he had seemed to Michelle a curious savant, enticed more by the prospect of having a Lunar subject for his inventions than by the theophanic-like encounter with a resurrected myth. Yet he demonstrated now a trace of comprehension in his tight brow. He understood the risk of accepting this burden.  

He offered Michelle a nod and rounded to the other side of the hover. “Good-bye then.” Garan opened the door and slid inside. 

Michelle’s attention was entrapped by Cinder. She was staring right at her, blinking slowly, and Michelle suddenly felt cruel to not have parted with a hug, a kiss, a promise that everything would eventually work out. But Michelle could not feed such lies to this child. Cinder was somehow entirely different to the girl that had haunted the ground beneath Michelle’s feet for the past eight years. That had been Selene. Cinder was the one who had woken up. 

Mostly, Michelle was sad to send her off, sure in the deepest fissures of her heart that her new life in the Eastern Commonwealth would not be as ‘fine’ as Garan promised it to be. 

The hover lifted from the ground and picked up speed, yet Cinder’s searching brown eyes lingered down the full length of the driveway. 

Once the rattle of whirring motors faded and the disturbed dust had drifted back to the ground, only Michelle and Logan were left. 

They looked out to the road, three arm lengths apart. 

Michelle exhaled shakily. “Well, there she goes.” 

A grim nod. “She has to.” 

Michelle shifted slightly, halfway facing him. “You don’t trust him?” 

“I do…” he sighed. “I trust he won’t betray her to the authorities or treat her badly, I just don’t…” He pursed his lips. 

“Don’t what?” 

Logan clasped his hands together, not meeting her eyes. “Michelle, there is no one on Earth or Luna I trust more than you. If it hadn’t been so threatening to both her and your safety, I would want her under your protection for as long as possible. I don’t know that Garan will manage this burden in the way you have.” 

The honesty rocked her. So confessionally sweet, and yet so obvious in its failings. Because he shouldn’t trust her so, not when they had such a brief connection to begin with. Not when he probably had a life on Luna after her, maybe a wife and children; children that perhaps looked vaguely alike their own son. There was no room for such unbosoming, not for co-conspirators in treasonous affairs that would surely catch up to them both. 

But perhaps, wouldn’t have been nice if there was no Selene at all? If he had simply escaped Luna to find her, and if he could sleep in the house rather than the bunker? Sit across from her at the dining table and tell stories to Scarlet, whom he would surely adore?    “We are older than Garan,” she said soberly. “But he will learn—as we did.” 

He nodded distractedly, perhaps disappointed. Was he disheartened that she did not acknowledge his praise towards her?     If he was, he didn’t dwell on it. “I leave tomorrow. It would be too suspicious for me to follow the hover. Granted I’m still sane by the time I reach the Commonwealth, I’ll check on her, just for safety.” 

Right. He was losing his mind, or so he said. He seemed always to be present with her, but she did notice him losing his train of thought when conversing with Garan and becoming fidgety when Cinder would refuse their gentle prompts to practise walking. “...And if you’re not sane?” 

His eyes bored into hers, distant as though foreseeing the forthcoming years. “I’ve already done my work.” 

Her port chimed, an alarm reminding her that Scarlet would be due home soon. Michelle had essentially forced Scarlet to go spend the afternoon at a friend’s house, but she wouldn’t be deterred for too long. Logan needed to hide. “You’ll have to retire to the bunker for the night.” 

He stepped away. “Of course. Then this is goodbye.” 

She startled. “I won’t see you off tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow is Saturday. On Luna, school children have the weekend off. I’m assuming it’s the same on Earth.” 

She’d forgotten, so terrified of Scarlet uncovering the confidential mission happening right under her nose that the days had blurred into insignificance. Logan never spoke of Scarlet, but they had all been aware of the oblivious bystander preventing them from acting in the open. “Right. I hadn’t realised.” 

Logan appeared to contemplate what he said next. “I am truly grateful to have known you, Michelle.” 

She pressed her lips, feeling twenty-nine again in everything but body. “Take care of yourself, Logan.” 

And then he was walking away. No embrace, no handshake or nod as Garan had exchanged.  

The wind whipped through her hair and the sunset before him cast a silhouette—an old man tramping through the crops. 

She hadn’t said it. That she trusted him impossibly more than anyone else, too. That this trust had long blurred the lines of devotion. Their fling was remembered as having lasted an entire lifetime. She wondered if she would soon regret her silence. 

Michelle turned and strolled back to the house. Two—diametrically opposed in direction, no longer having Selene to tether them together. But, with a hand on her chest, Michelle resolved that if Cinder reclaimed her throne, freed Luna and opened the way for Lunars and Earthens to have peace, she knew who she would fly to. 

———

“On Luna, I knew the man who brought you to Earth and performed your surgery. I tracked him down in an attempt to find you, but by then he’d already started to lose his mind. All I could get out of him was that you were somewhere here, in the Commonwealth.”  

Tell him good-bye

“Where is she?” 

Logan was shoved backwards, head lolling as the whiplash caught him. He dumbly flailed his hands but was too blindsided to direct a blow.  

Sage Darnel was much shorter than Logan, but he towered over him as Logan’s knees gave out. He crumpled to the ground. 

“Is she alive?” Sage demanded again, lugging him up by the collar. His sky-blue eyes were stormy and fierce and Logan couldn’t hold them. 

His breaths were shallow and irregular, mind vague and unfocused. He couldn’t remember where he was, why he was here… 

“Logan!” Sage barked. 

“Alive,” he gasped, wincing as nails dug into his flesh. “Alive. Barely.”  

When Sage had ambushed him outside the android dealer, Logan had taken off with the tenacity of a sprinter. But his internal compass failed him and Sage chased him down, cornering him in this alleyway.  

Sage snarled, his canines gleaming in the moonlight. “What do you mean?” 

“Broken,” bubbled from his lips. “Too broken. Bone and skin and ashes.” 

“What are you saying, Logan?” he spat. 

Princess Selene’s burnt corpse flashed past his vision. Blood and pus oozing from welts. Bones and skin mangled. Her charred eyes in his hands. Pieces of her brain sitting on his operating table. “I had to fix her.” 

“Fix what? Her body? From the fire?” 

Chopping and stitching and sawing and praying. “Metal and grafts.” 

His anger wilted with realisation. “She’s a cyborg, isn't she?” 

Stupidly, Logan thought that this shift might give him an advantage. He wrestled against the iron grip, sneering, “Levana sent you to take her!”  

Sage shoved him further up the wall, invading his space so closely that Logan could feel his breath on his chin. “I want to rip Levana apart with my own two hands and return Selene to her throne.” 

“Why?” he choked. 

“Because she killed my daughter. What’s your reason?” 

He had none, no personal stake, except for the sake of his country. “To fight her,” he settled on, not really knowing what it meant. 

“Good. So where is she?” 

Stars, how did they ever take this man’s daughter away from him? Logan was certain he was only a millisecond away from smashing his skull against the brick wall. 

“Logan!” 

“Commonwealth! The Eastern Commonwealth!” he cried, awaiting the blow.  

“Where? Where in the Eastern Commonwealth?” 

He couldn’t feel the blow, but it must have come. Why else was his brain screaming? His body burning hotter than a playhouse in a toddler’s nursery? Incoherent spluttering vomited from his mouth, breaths coming out but none able to come in. He was asphyxiating. He was bleeding. He was brainless. 

Sage’s frantic blue eyes were not enough to keep Logan’s attention. It was fixed at the end of the alleyway—a figure drenched in moon light approached. 

“Where?!” 

“Yes Logan, where? Where did you put her?” mocked Dr Eliot, her silhouette growing clearer. 

“I saved her, I swear!” Logan protested. 

Dr Eliot shook her head, expression vacant. Blood began to trickle down her scalp in rivulets, dripping down her eyelids and lips. Then the trickle turned into a stream, swimming down her white doctor’s coat and staining it, the blood black in the moonlight. 

“I did, I-I promise,” he stammered, “I did, I did, I did.” 

Thud. He was dropped to the floor. He barely noticed.  

“You’ve lost your mind,” Sage snarled and stomped down the alleyway, walking straight through the bloodied ghost.  

It began to rain. 

Logan lay on the damp, cold cement, heart palpitating and eyes unseeing. 

Yes, lost my mind, his mind thought, as Dr Eliot’s blood drifted from the sky and blanketed him. 

Yes, yes, yes, yes yes yes yes. 

———

Before he had lost his mind, it had been kind to him. He needed enough mental clarity to perform Selene’s surgeries. With that accomplished, his sanity promptly handed him a letter of resignation. 

Three months. Logan had elected to wait three months after leaving Michelle before following Garan into New Beijing. Three months before he surreptitiously checked on the child. Time was needed to put distance between Logan and Garan, to stamp out any suspicions of a connection. 

As the reins of timekeeping flung out of his hands—another consequence of the Lunar sickness—three months turned into two and half years. It was then that Sage Darnel found Logan and pinned him to the wall of the alleyway. How long Sage had been on Earth, Logan didn’t know. He no longer remembered how long he himself had been on Earth. 

His encounter with Sage only worsened his fear. It became even more imperative that he avoid the princess. He could only hope that Sage either never found her or that he was true to his word; that he too wished to see her enthroned. 

But any others lurking around, searching for the princess, may not share those motives. 

Logan lived as a nomad, moving from place to place, province to province and never staying long enough to become a local. When he had escaped Luna for Earth, he had left the pilot helping him all his assets, his home and his investments. In exchange, the pilot converted all of Logan’s savings into Earthen currency registered under his new false identity. He had enough to sustain him over the years, knowing there was no possibility of him working again. Not as a doctor, with a mind so demented. Not with the chance of another Lunar finding him. 

He was pitied by some, ignored by most. More than once was he asked if he had wandered away from his nursing home. Once he was robbed, his portscreen stolen from him. It had all his connections to Linh Garan, but Logan had programmed it to delete all incriminating evidence if ever it was opened by someone other than himself. Now he really had to trust in Garan, because he wouldn’t soon be able to reach him. 

Between harrowing visions that reduced him to a trembling ball on the floor and sleeping and eating and shuffling about, he had memories. His younger brother tossing him a ball. His elderly patient sobbing as he delivered a terminal diagnosis. In the library, reading about the atmosphere of Earth. The pictures did no justice to the true colour of the sky, someone had once told him….who? 

One day as he wandered aimlessly around a grocery store, bumping into androids and accidentally knocking over shelf displays, a kindly-looking young woman stopped him and asked if he had a wife she could call to come collect him. 

I don’t think so, he had said, and she smiled pityingly. 

Logan had almost married twenty years ago. Bright and cheery Evelyn Eliot, with the mousy blonde hair and always concerned grey eyes. She was the aunt of one of Logan’s students and an engineer in Artemisia’s maglev system. Logan grew to care for her. He never revealed to her how truly malcontent he was against the regime—he didn’t think she shared such sympathies. But she was kind, and he would not be unhappy with her. 

One afternoon, two months before their wedding date, she burst into the medical centre, face flushed with sweat beading her forehead. In a low whisper, she hastily told him that two guards had visited her at her work and reassigned her to outer sectors to strengthen the security of the maglev system. The people were becoming defiant, the risk they might try to cross borders growing greater. Evelyn didn’t want to leave. She promised him that she wouldn’t go. 

Perhaps Logan should have confessed his hatred of the monarchy to her, because perhaps then she would have been resigned to the knowledge that refusal was not an option. 

That night, Evelyn disappeared. Bioelectrically manipulated onto a maglev shuttle and shipped over to her new assignment in the outer sectors. With the laws prohibiting travel between sectors, she was never to return. With the two of them unmarried, Logan could not follow her. 

He resolutely gave up on all inklings of companionship and love after that. 

A week later, he’d stumbled upon his former student, now Dr Eliot, tearing up her office in a fury. She threw vitals scanners to the floor, smashed vials under her feet.  

“They took her!” she screamed, wrestling with a lab cart. It crashed to the ground with a furious smash! “They stole her just because they can! We’ll never see her again! I hate them, I hate all of them!” 

She raised a stethoscope, ready to hurl it but startled when she realised she was aiming it at him. 

A hand whipped over her mouth. “I don’t, I didn’t…I don’t despise the monarchy—I swear—” 

Logan hushed her with a held finger. “Be careful who you say those things around, Doctor.” And then in an impossibly low murmur, “Not everyone around here shares the same sentiments as we do.” 

Her eyes widened. 

They never spoke again of their shared resistance. But their bond was always stronger after that, even stronger than that of a mentor and a student. More than that of once-to-be uncle and niece. 

That must have been the reason why, when the nursery went up in flames, she sent for him rather than one of the younger, fitter doctors who could have raced over much sooner. Why when she was taken in to be questioned by Levana and her obsequious snake Sybil Mira, she entrusted Selene into his care. 

All he could remember now about Dr Eliot was the blood stretching the lengths of that alleyway. 

———

“I’ll try to keep an eye on her for as long as I can, but I’m not sure I will still be lucid enough to tell her the truth once she’s ready. It’s possible that responsibility will fall to Garan.” 

———

Linh Garan. ID #0082700743. Deceased 121 T.E. Cause of Death: Letumosis. 

It took a week for the understanding to pass through his haze of incomprehension. 121 T.E. That was four years ago. The girl must be now…oh…fifteen? 

It had all been prompted by a ring of blue bruises covering a dead man’s arms. Logan’s roommate—a young man kicked out of home by his ex-wife, almost as vague and aimless as Logan—had stumbled into the share house one day panting and dead-eyed. Logan’s medical training resurged, winning over his incognizance. He triaged the man, asking his symptoms, observing his breathing. When Logan took his wrist to check his pulse, he saw the bruises. 

The blue fever. He commed for an emergency hover from the man’s port and hid when the med droids came to collect him. 

Surely he had contracted it himself. It could take days for the symptoms of the plague to manifest, and they slept on opposite sides of the same room in twin beds. But if the med droids found him and took him, they would discover that he was Lunar. 

No, if he was going to die, he would do it here, hidden away. 

After three days of mania, fasting and acceptance, no symptoms arose. 

He couldn’t fathom a reason why he hadn’t caught it. No Earthen had ever recovered from the disease. Immunity. It had to be connected to his Lunar genealogy. Logan began to posit that Lunar defectors like himself had brought it to Earth in the first place. 

The second realisation came as he was absentmindedly watching a newsfeed about the cyborg draft in the Eastern Commonwealth. If Selene was called in for the draft, exposed to the disease and found to be immune, she would become a subject of curiosity. Garan must be warned. 

He had never once contacted Garan since he took the princess, dreading that someone could hack his portscreen and connect the dots. But as he now searched his profile on the portscreen he claimed from his deceased roommate, he discovered the truth. 

Garan was dead. Gone only weeks after he’d taken the princess away. Now who could tell her of her own identity? Garan and himself were the only ones who knew. Sage still evidently had not found her. 

And… 

And Michelle. 

He hadn’t consciously thought of her in a while. He was occasionally reminded of her; a French voice in a newsfeed, a smell of earth and dirt reminiscent of her farm, some dish filling his belly with the warmth of one of her stews. 

Even now, just at thought of her, a taste of something fruity and tangy coated his tongue.  

He expelled the aching from his chest. Michelle was so much wiser than him. She could help the girl become queen. If he could find Selene and bring her back to Michelle…no, that would endanger Michelle. He couldn’t. 

Logan would find Linh Cinder and tell her the truth himself. 

———

It took three months to reach New Beijing from where he had been decaying in Uzbekistan. Travel was near impossible with no mental legs to stand on, and Logan kept going in circles, catching the wrong maglevs, seeing visions along the way that caused him to flee in the opposite direction. This he could try to push past, but gradually he became more and more certain that he was being followed. Something was chasing him, observing him, but every time he turned around, the pursuer disappeared. 

Finally, a backpacker took pity on him and took him under his wing, guiding him through maglevs and hostels until they reached a suburb just outside the grimy, charming capital of the Eastern Commonwealth. They parted ways amicably at the doorstep of the Linh residence, a squat home among rows of identically small abodes, all with worn awnings, chipped paint and litter strewn across the footpath.  

The house immediately to the left had a broken window, glass shards spilled on a patch of weeds. Logan was well accustomed to less than pleasant lodging, but even this street curdled his stomach. 

“I hope you can find your grandson, my brother,” said the kind traveller. He flashed a two fingered salute. “Peace and love, man.” 

“Thank you,” said Logan, sort of wishing he remembered the free spirit’s name. Once the rickety shuttle hover trundled away, Logan pressed the bell. 

Silence. He pressed the button again two more times. This was the address listed under Garan’s name; Logan had confirmed it at least fifty times a day. Finally after the fourth ring an anxious looking woman appeared, cracking the door open by a sliver and peeking out. 

“H-hello,” he stammered. “Are–are you...Linh Adri?” 

She shook her head quickly. 

Breathing heavily, he frowned. “You’re not?” 

“No.” 

Logan blinked rapidly. As the woman began to close the door, he shouted, “Wait!” 

Her hand halted. 

“Do you know where Linh Adri is? Or…Linh…Linh Cinder?” 

Her guarded eyes softened, the most infinitesimal change, but noticeable in her tone when she spoke, “The mechanic?” 

“...Pardon?” 

“That girl. Linh Cinder. I don’t know where she lives now. But the neighbours here remember her. She used to fix their water heaters and portscreens. They say she’s a mechanic now.” 

“Where? Do you know?” he blurted loudly, stepping closer. 

She backed away, hands braced defensively. “New Beijing Market. That’s all I know!” 

Then she slammed the door. 

Linh Cinder. He never dared to netsearch her name. He struggled even to say it aloud. Every corner he turned, some vision was there to taunt him, singing the name again and again in a dissonant melody, mocking him. They would find her. They would take her.  

A flash caught his eye. Something, someone appeared—just for a moment. He scanned the street, trying to identify the figure, but there was nothing. Goosebumps erupted on his arms, but he shook off the panic. Still, some premonition deep in his gut insisted the apparition was real. Was familiar. 

Logan stumbled away from the porch, took out his portscreen, and punched in New Beijing Market. 

———

“Scarlet couldn’t bring herself to tell her grandmother that Logan Tanner was dead. Had gone crazy. Had killed himself.” 

———

The hover spat him out at New Beijing Market. It was exactly the sort of place Logan hated to be now; crowded, loud, confusing and hot. His internal compass misfired amongst the cramped booths and overwhelming din. In places like this, he would only escape once the sun was setting and shopkeepers were pulling down the rollers. 

He stumbled forward, moved by a greater purpose. 

His eyes scanned every booth around him, searching for anything resembling a mechanic’s haven. He remembered Garan’s tools and contraptions, the gleam in his eye when Cinder’s metal toes twitched for the first time as he tweaked wires and screwed joints shut. Perhaps he had trained her as a mechanic... 

No. It had only been weeks after he collected the princess that the plague had claimed him. Had Garan blamed her for catching the disease? Did he blame Logan? 

He turned a corner, and there Garan stood. 

His stomach climbed up to his throat. It was him. He was the one who had been stalking him across the Commonwealth. Garan stared at him, eyes unblinking and bloodshot. His arms were ringed with bruises, fingers blue and shrivelled. Green foam spluttered from his lips. 

“Logan,” he growled, clear all the way across the lane. “Come here.” 

Logan turned and bolted. 

Startled pedestrians jumped out of his way as he charged past, clutching their bags to their chests. Mothers tore their children off the path. 

Soon, visions were everywhere. Sage Darnel slithering out of a booth and grabbing him by the throat. His roommate’s corpse writhing on the ground, crying out, cursing him. He was already expecting Dr Eliot’s bloody appearance. Though she taunted him, he was familiar with this vision.  

Visions. That’s all they were. Unreal. Psychotic. 

The ground swallowed him up. The traffic of the passersby threaded around him—all at once, he knew every single one of them. Thaumaturges. Doctors. Aristocrats. The entire city of Artemisia was here on Earth, at this market, trampling him. His eyes squeezed shut. A hand lifted his chin towards the sky. 

He squinted painfully up into the sunlight. 

Queen Levana crouched over him, blood trickling down the tines of her crown and dripping off her lashes. 

Pebbles dug into his palms as he scampered away, but she made haste to follow.  

“Sir!” came from her mouth, unnaturally earnest from those smirking lips and ravenous eyes. “Sir, are you okay?” 

“Go–go away!” he shrieked. 

“Sir, what’s wrong? Do you need a doctor?” Do you have someone I can comm to get you? Children? A wife?” 

Logan scrambled to his feet and barrelled away from the queen. 

A wife. Yes, he had once almost had a wife. Steady hands calloused from digging into dirt. Teasing brown eyes. 

No…the woman he had almost married—what was her name?—she’d had blonde hair and grey eyes. Who was he thinking of? Who was he looking for?  

He was looking for…looking for… 

“Logan.” 

She stood amidst the crowd, ten paces away. Every shouting vendor and sizzling frypan silenced in the void. 

“Michelle,” he uttered. 

She was as young as she’d been when they met. Melting brown eyes. Lips beckoning him. 

Her smile was warm. “Come on, Logan. Let’s go home.” 

People swarmed around him. A woman blocked his view momentarily and once she passed on, Michelle had disappeared. 

His head whipped around frantically, searching for her in every direction. Her voice was ringing in his ears. “Michelle!” he shouted, blindly crashing into a fruit stand and hobbling away, completely unaware of the surprised gasps and curses chasing him. 

The visions transformed. Michelle’s redheaded granddaughter peering at him from a booth table. A boy tossing a ball at him, he recognised as the boy in the pictures on Michelle’s wall. The boy who looked so much like his own brother. 

Twisting and turning through lanes, only spotting glimpses of her hair and smile before they’d disappear again, his calves finally seized up. He folded over his knees, intaking needy breaths as his eyes scanned around desperately. 

They landed on a girl. 

Despite her decent height, she was obviously young. She stood behind a table in a shaded booth, tools splayed out before her. Grease was spotted over her exposed arms and gloves. She was staring in concentration at the body of a woman who lay on her table, limp and dull-eyed. Logan cringed as she reached a hand into the woman’s open stomach.  

Had he wandered into some illicit part of the market where someone would dissect a person so openly?  

It wasn’t until the girl tilted the body slightly that Logan saw her innards of cogs and wires. The body was an android. One of those escort droids, perhaps. 

The girl huffed, blowing miscreant hair from her brow, and looked up. 

At first, she darted her gaze away upon noticing being observed, tugging her left glove higher up her wrist. But then a flash of curiosity caught her face, and she returned to him. 

Confusion. Something else. Recognition? 

Logan wondered if she would be able to help him with his search. She looked kind. Trustworthy. He needed help to find… 

“Logan.” 

Michelle smiled down at him. She appeared this time, not as her younger self, but as he’d last seen her. Greying hair, smile lines and jowling more beautiful than ever. The same spirit and open hands, a magnetism drawing him to her. 

“It’s time to come home, Logan,” she said, eyes twinkling. 

“Not yet,” he spluttered, “I have to find someone. I have to tell…” 

She shook her head in amusement, turning and gesturing to him to follow. “You already found me.” 

“I—” 

She was gone. He couldn’t pinpoint the moment she was there and the moment she wasn’t, but he knew she had been there. That was she out there somewhere, waiting for him. 

Sweet, Michelle-flavoured adrenaline pumped through his veins. He always wanted to find her. After nearly forty years, she was still the only one to have truly owned his heart. He needed to find her and tell her… 

He staggered to his feet. He wasn’t supposed to be here. There was nothing for him here. His gaze again caught on the young girl in the booth. Shoulders set in a hesitant confidence. Brown eyes—cautiously curious.  

His feet willed him away on their own towards the bright sunlight. 

“Logan,” the voice called again, sweet as a dragon fruit tartlet. One he could almost taste as his dry lips formed around her name.  

No, he wasn’t looking for that girl. He was looking for Michelle. 

———

“I hope you’ll meet him someday. Tell him hello for me. Tell him good-bye.” 

———

Notes

Tu me cherchais? = Were you looking for me?

I am aware that I am delusional and no one else is as invested in them as I am.

Fun bit of impossiblesuitcase trivia--the hair cutting scene is actually a deleted scene from my Cut, Comb, Detangle, Repeat series! I think probably only one person remembers that series 😂

Eagle-eyed readers may be able to notice which escort droid Cinder is working on 👀

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @bakergirl13 @cyborgcourt @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21