#at least “wanderer” happens to be my excuse for crossing out the letter on the ribbon badge thingy at his waist

[rainebowkitty]

Why yes that is Scaramouche Genshin Impact wearing Riddle Twisted Wonderland's dorm uniform. Why do you ask?

*explodes*

we don't talk about how much time I spent drawing this

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Overworked

Fandom: DC Pairing: Batsis!reader x Batfamily Word count: 3k Summay: Your on your way to be the next C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, but the road is filled with challenges and a lack of self-care that your family can’t help but worry about (based on this) Warning: Slight angst and unconciousness, near death experience Requested by a pretty great Anon: Can you do a one shot of future ceo batsis overworking herself with long days and vigilante nights and she’s basically not sleeping or taking care of herself and batfams gotta step in and make her listen to reason.

The cup of coffee had already grown cold, the liquid inside it stale and surely undrinkable, when you reached for it. Hardly the first few drops of the liquid had ran down your throat when you realized the horrible transition it had gone through from the nectar of productivity to the lovechild of tar and sulfur, your face distorting into an expression of utmost disgust as you quickly put it back down and besides the other six paper-cups that were all half-filled at most. You sighed when you realized that it must have already been an hour since you had made - and after completely forgot about - the coffee. It really was a cursed circle that you had been going through for the last eight hours. You made a cup, brought it to your office, drank a bit, forgot about it and realized how horrible it now tasted half an hour or so later and then you took at least another twenty minutes before deciding to head for your next cup.  Was it already time for the next one? No, it could wait a bit longer. You turned your attention back to the screen in front of you - or rather the three screens - and let your eyes fly over all the data and graphs and numbers that you had to have in a presentable form by next morning for the monthly debriefing. This time would be your first time without Bruce on the sidelines and overlooking your work, a fact that made you feel proud at your accomplishment while simultaneously scaring you to the core. You knew that logically it wouldn’t be different than the last two - which you had also done basically solo with Bruce only sitting beside you silently observing - but there was still that internal voice that told you that without your father by your side the board would rip you apart until nothing was left over. You didn’t know what exactly caused it but suddenly you felt dizzy and the letters and numbers in front of you started swimming around, turning into absolute gibberish, the neon-lights of the screen hurting your eyes. No, not the screens themselves, it was the contrast between the brightly lit screens and the darkness that spread out behind them. It was only then that you let your gaze move behind the confines of your office and through the glass doors to the rest of the office space that was completely engulfed in darkness. Now you realized that it wasn’t only that, it was more, there was no soul wandering the floor and no sound beside the ever-so-steady growling of the computer fan and the clicking of your keyboard. “Fuck,” you couldn’t help but mutter when you looked at the clock beside you which already read half past nine. Which meant that you only had half an hour at most before your patrol started. Ignoring the pounding that built up in your head you tried to remember how it was possible for the time to surprise you like that. You had come to work at eight that morning and had spent two hours calling around, checking on contracts and meeting with potential clients, then you had your daily briefing with the department heads - which had extended into almost an hour because Brad from PR really couldn’t get his shit together - then you had to talk to HR about finding a possible replacement for Brad from PR and after you had started working on the numbers. And now you were standing in the elevator on your way to the car park. Did you have Lunch today? No, you had to skip Lunch break for Brad. What about Breakfast? No, wait, you forgot about that too. You rubbed your eyes and felt the need to curse rise again when you realized that you’d have to get right back to the numbers as soon as you had finished patrol which meant that you wouldn’t be able to sleep yet again. What was that? The fourth night in a row? Your only solace was the possibility that you’d maybe finish quickly and get a good one to two hours before you had to be back in the office, but deep inside you knew that it was unlikely. It hadn’t worked the last four nights either. But you’d pull through. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. After tomorrow’s meeting you’d go home at a normal time and indulge yourself in that full meal your stomach had been begging you for, sleep for a full eight hours and maybe even watch a movie if you felt especially crazy. Just for one night you’d really let yourself go. But for that to be possible you had to bite your teeth together and stay on your path.

The elevator arrived at the car park and you quickly rushed to your car and made your way to your apartment which - for maximum efficiency - was only a five minute drive away from the Wayne Ent. Tower, where you quickly rushed into the hidden side room to change into your gear. As you checked the time you realized that you still had a good five minutes before you had to check in with your father and you had to very quickly decide between your two options: quickly eat something or make and drink another coffee. You decided for the second one, but as you made your way to the kitchen counter where your coffee machine stood you caught a glimpse of the unopened stack of mail on the kitchen island and with a sigh decided to just get that over with, effectively ignoring both your previous options.  The letters were rather quickly sorted through and before you knew you were standing on a nearby ceiling and activated your comm. “Y/H/N reporting from area 7.4 in central Gotham.” “Good evening Y/H/N, it’s Oracle, I’ll be your voice in the background tonight,” Barbara’s voice echoed through your ears and after exchanging the usual greetings she quickly gave you the location of a robbery in progress. With quick, experienced movements you jumped over the roofs until you stood on the ceiling of a jewelry which was - luckily for you - made out of glass. There was only a single man in the darkness of the store below you, using a flashlight to clean out the display cases, and he wasn’t especially silent so you used the noise to your advantage as you opened one of the few ceiling windows that were openable and let yourself glide down with a hook. “I think you have to pay for that,” you interrupted the robber who quickly turned around, his face hidden by a black, knitted hat with badly cut out holes for the eyes. He was definitely no professional. The man - obviously panicked - got out a gun with shaky hands and pointed it at you, but before he could even think of shooting you had thrown a batarang and the piece of weaponry landed on the floor too far from him that he could reach it before you. Seemingly not seeing another option the man started charging at you and you just sighed and said: “I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” but by the end of the sentence his fist tried to make contact with your masked face, but you caught his hand expertly and used the momentum to twist it behind his back, grabbing the other one too and with quick movements you had used a pair of handcuffs that you had in your bat-belt™ to chain him to one of the displays before letting him go. “If you’ll excuse me for a second,” you mumbled before walking a few feet away where you told Barbara to contact the police and tell him they didn’t need to hurry. You had just finished the conversation and muted your mic again when the same dizziness as earlier in the office hit you but this time tenfold. It was like the ground was swaying below you and you had to take ahole of a countertop so that you didn’t fall. “Hey, are you okay, you look kinda sick,” the robber asked in an actual concerned voice, but you didn’t answer, instead you quickly used the hook you had attached earlier to let yourself swing out of the window again. “Y/H/N?” Barbara contacted you and you tried your best to swallow down the weakness in your muscles that suddenly seemed to grow over you. “Yeah?” “Bats asks you to meet him on the roof of the Jefferson building down in third.” “Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” 

You gave yourself another few seconds to collect yourself before you did as you were told and made your way over to the roof of the builduing Babs’ had told you to go to, the dark silhouette of your father’s persona already expecting you there. Like you had done so often before, you started to run towards the edge of the building next to it - the one you were currently on - and made yourself ready to jump, only for your muscles to suddenly give up on you and the only thing you felt next was the rushing of air as you were falling and then the sudden stop and pain in your wrist as something caught you. Bruce quickly pulled you up and even with the cowl you could see the concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice worried which definitely sounded uncanny in connection with what he was wearing. “Uhm yeah, my legs just kind of gave up on me there,” you tried to wave it off with a chuckle, not wanting him to see that you were frightened to your core. “Y/H/N?” he asked again in that voice he had always used when you tried to sneak out at night and lied when he had caught you. He hadn’t used that voice in so long. “I’m serious Batman, everything is okay, it’s no big deal,” you huffed - now defensive - and stood up with your arms crossed in front of your chest. “It is when you suddenly fall from a roof. What would have been if I hadn’t been there to catch you?” he asked, now slight anger edging through the worry, but you couldn’t blame him. “I’m sorry, okay, it won’t happen again,” you sighed and hoped he would just let it go, especially considering that the dizziness started to return. Along with it came the heaviness of your eyelids that you had gotten used to that somehow now seemed to actively pull you down. You raised your hand to rub your eyes - hoping it would put some more live back into you - but even that slight movement seemed to be too much as the world started swaying again and you felt gravity getting the best of you. Something black started moving in front of you and you weren’t quite sure if you were falling unconscious or if it was Bruce who came towards you to catch your falling form, but it turned out to be latter when you found yourself being lowered to the ground and propped against the end of one of the vantilator shafts of the building with Bruce kneeling beside you. “You’re definitely not okay,” he muttered as he held your face in his hands to get you to look at him. “I’m just a little bit tired is all,” you tried to argue, but your voice was weak and almost started lulling. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate?” You shut your eyes in concentration as you tried to remember. “Wait I know the answer to that one,” you muttered but almost fell asleep, only being kept away when your head started falling downwards, “What did you ask again?” “When was the last time you slept an entire night?” he tried again, this time more specific. “What day is it today?” “Friday.” “Then I think it was Monday,” you whispered since suddenly the loud noise of your voice seemed to pierce your skull apart. “You were on Patrol from nine to two a.m. on Monday,” Bruce disagreed and you almost chuckled. “Yes, and after I went to bed and got a full five hours. That’s pretty good isn’t it,” you couldn’t help but smile almost proudly, your mind starting to fog up with bubblegum coloured smoke that made it impossible to think straight. “And when did you last eat?” Bruce sighed, worry and recognition crossed his face. He himself must have known too well what you were going through. You averted your eyes and looked down at your lap where you played with your hands like an embarrassed child. “Also Monday,” you mumbled and Bruce immediately shook his head. “That’s not okay, you have to take care of yourself Y/H/N, you’re no good for anyone when you don’t.” You weren’t sure if it was only tired paranoia that made you see only disappointment on your fathers face - that ignored all the worry - but suddenly the prospect of having disappointed him, the one thing that you were trying to avoid ever since you could remember, made tears well up in your eyes and your lip quiver, “‘M sorry,” you could just press out before the tears started rolling. Bruce immediately regretted his tone of voice, but he knew nothing he would say now would be remembered by you so he just pulled you up from the roof and started carrying your already passing out form towards the batmobil. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow…”

The feeling of waking up rested was foreign to you, especially since it wasn’t one of your four separate alarms that woke you, and caused you to immediately sit up, only to be pulled back into the mattress. Your eyes flew open and explored your surroundings. The chandelier above you, with rainbow-coloured glass-pendants and the dark blue dealing with the painted stars immediately calmed you again. This room was your childhood bedroom which meant that you were in the manor, which in turn meant that you were safe. For a moment the calm was pretty nice, but then you remembered your case of immovability and looked down at where your wrists came out from under the cover. They were bound by silky bands and a move of your feet told you that the same was the case for them. While you were contemplating ways to get out of the unbelievably good, but still comfortable restraints, the door started to open and you turned as well as you could towards where you smallest (figuratively and literally) brother entered. “Your awake?” he asked in his usual stern voice, but you had known him for long enough to recognize the hidden worry. “Yeah, mind telling me why I’m strapped to my bed?” “Forced self-care,” he stated matter-of-factly and you couldn't help but narrow your eyes. “What?” “You fainted on Patrol, father says you haven’t eaten or slept since last Monday so we took measures to make sure you wouldn’t kill yourself with how careless you are.” You wanted to reply with something snarky, but you were well aware that what he said was probably right. “I’m sorry okay, I just had a lot on my plate, but you’re right and I feel a lot better now that I had some sleep, so you can let me go again,” you tried to smooth your way out of there, but you had the slight suspicion that it was hopeless. “I respect your try but you will not be let go until father is certain that you’re better.”

“But I am better!” you whined and tried yet again to wiggle yourself out of the restraints. Damian just raised his eyebrows unimpressed. He walked over to a chair that was standing beside your bed and as you followed him with your eyes you noticed the shutted curtains and the small gap of light between them. “What time is it anyways?” you sighed and felt surprise when you had to hold back a yawn. “It’s about 8 a.m.” Your eyes widened. That meant you had enough time to get to the office! “Please Dami, you gotta let me go, I have to get to the board meeting,” you begged, starting to wiggle more and more, but to no avail. “But Ukthi, you-” “No you don’t understand! This is my first time alone, I can’t let dad down, I have to be able to pull through with this if I ever want to make it as the next C.E.O. Dad wasn’t allowed a break either.” “Ukthi-” “Damian please, please, I promise I’ll come back right after and take care of myself, but I have to do this if I-” “Ukthi! The board meeting was yesterday. You slept for over 24 hours!” Damian shouted to get you to stop interrupting him and when you realized the weight of his words you sunk back down into the pillow. “What? But I was supposed to…” “Father just postponed it, he didn’t leave room to argue, he also gave you the week off from patrol and work.” If your hands weren’t bound you’d probably sunken your face into them in shame. You tried to hold tears back as you looked away from Damian. “Y/N?” he asked and came closer. “I’m sorry, It’s just- how am I supposed to handle being the C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprise if I can’t even handle little things like board meetings? How am I supposed to take after dad?” “Y/N, you keep on saying how father managed to lead the business on his own, and how you should be able too, but you’re not alone. You’re not supposed to be either. You have all of us by your side for a reason and we won’t leave you alone with this. We’re here for you and you shouldn’t be ashamed to ask for help. We’re family, we love you and we want to support you with all we can. “For now, how about you rest a little bit more and then I’ll let you out of bed to get a proper meal, Alfred made your favorite. After that I’m afraid Father will want to have a word with you.” “Oh shucks….”

[insaneoldme]

Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone! 

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

[phykios]

Ain’t No Sunshine, modern royalty, 1970s au [read on ao3] thank you as always to my darling @darkmagyk for taking a true story off the rails

May 3rd, 1979. The date seemed to jump off the page, the loud, bold text almost mocking her. 

Not that she was keeping track, but it was just about four years to the day.

She’d woken up this morning, feeling kind of off, wandering around her apartment in a daze as she hustled her children out the door for daycare, losing time on her bus commute to work. It wasn’t until lunch, as she took the time to go through her day planner, that she realized: four years ago was when she had last seen Percy Jackson.

Though why Annabeth was thinking about him right this second was anyone’s guess.

Oh, sure, she’d thought about him a lot all throughout her pregnancy--thought about him, cursed his name, dreamed of strangling him for leaving her alone with these two absolute terrors--but as the years had gone by, and she had lost all hope of ever making contact with him again, he’d sort of fallen by the wayside of her thoughts. Something must have been going on with the navy mail system, because absolutely none of the letters or postcards she’d sent had ever been received, and she couldn’t reach out to Sally, since Annabeth had lost her address as well. 

There was always the possibility that he… well, that he wasn’t around to receive letters anymore. But she tried not to think about it. 

She tried her best not to think about him at all, these days.

Today, however, her childhood best friend turned US navy midshipman had popped up on her internal radar, and had just decided to take up residence in her brain. Her normally mind-numbing job couldn’t even properly distract her, and she spent all afternoon daydreaming about his messy, perpetually windswept hair, and his toothy, contagious smile, and his gorgeous green eyes like she was some kind of pathetic, lovestruck teenager, obsessing over her rockstar crush. Taking calls, scheduling appointments, and dodging the creepy advances of the assistant CFO were slightly more palatable if she had something pleasant to think about. 

Old-fashioned romance was for suckers, anyway. Who needed it? 

At least it was Friday. Fridays were KFC days, and she really did not need to accidentally burn dinner today. Again.

She hated it, but her kids loved it. God knows they could barely stomach whatever she usually attempted.

She sent them to bed early-ish, and settled down in front of the TV with a glass of wine. She didn’t usually indulge, but she had had such a weird day, she felt she deserved it. 

Taking a long, long sip, she could no longer deny it: she really fucking missed Percy.

She missed him like she’d miss a missing limb, and it was all the more cruel because she’d lost him once, and miraculously found him again, on that fateful trip home from Athens. A military brat stuck at the American naval base in Spain to save money, waiting for a spare seat to open up on a plane so she could go home, by the sheer force of luck, she’d practically tripped and fallen into the lap of her childhood best friend. 

And then she did trip into his lap. And then into his bed. And stupid, stupid, Annabeth, she’d always been so bad with her birth control.

Her little boy, he had blond hair, but sometimes he would look at her, or laugh at something, or drool in his sleep just like his daddy, and Annabeth thought she might just fucking die from it.

She loved her children, of course, how could she not? But she wasn’t about to deny it--sometimes, alone in parenthood, juggling dishes and laundry and schoolwork and life, she felt like she was drowning.

Sharp, piercing, the doorbell rang, knocking her out of her reverie. A little tipsy, still in her rumpled work clothes, she set the glass aside, and made her way to the door. “Mr. D,” she said, opening it, prepared speech all ready to go, “I told you, I’d have the rent for you by--”

She stopped, blinking, speechless. It was not Mr. D.

“Hey,” said the man outside her door. The ghost from another world that she had, apparently, conjured with her thoughts.

“...Hey.”

He smiled, a little strained, the light of the streetlamps casting harsh shadows on his face. “It’s good to see you.” 

“How did you know where I lived?” It was, perhaps, not the most elegant thing to say, but she hadn’t exactly planned for what would happen when Percy Jackson, love of her life, father of her children, long-lost best friend wandered back into her life.

“Can I come in? Maybe for a Coke or something?” he asked, not answering her question. 

She almost wanted to say no. For every letter never returned, for every month gone by without a word, for every day spent raising their children without him, not knowing if he was alive or dead--she almost said no. 

But this was Percy. She could spare him a Coca Cola at least. “Sure,” she said, leaning away, “come on.”

“Great,” he said, and this time, his smile was all real. 

So focused had she been on him, she hadn’t even clocked the older man who stood behind him. “Sir,” said the other man, with the air of a beleaguered secretary--and Annabeth would know, “I really must advise--”

“I’ll just be a minute,” said Percy, not even bothering to look back at him, pushing past Annabeth’s half-extended arm.

“But, sir, your father--”

Percy let the door shut in his face.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Harsh.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well… I’ll make it up to him later.”

“Who is he?”

But Percy didn’t answer. “Nice place you got here.”

He was being nice, of course. It was a craphole apartment in a craphole side of town--but the rent was cheap and the bus was convenient, and she only felt the slightest bit of shame as she led him to the craphole couch, handing him a coke from her craphole fridge. Christ, his suit looked like it cost more than her TV.

“Is your… husband home?” he asked, delicate.

“My what?”

“Your husband. I saw, um…” Embarrassed, he flicked his eyes to the ring on her left hand. 

“Oh, this? It’s--it’s not--” Hastily, clumsily, she fumbles it off, pulling around the knuckle. “I’m not--I’m not.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I just--it’s to ward off creepy guys, right? Like, they won’t take no for an answer unless they think they’ll have to deal with an angry husband, so I just…” 

In her more pathetic moments, she pretended that it had been given to her by the man before her. She had picked something small and simple, something that she thought he might have gone with, and pretended he had slipped it into her pocket the day she left the naval base. 

“That’s--cool. That’s great, I mean. I mean, that’s--”

“What do you want, Percy?”

Not at all bothered by the shortness of her tone, he sighed, closing his eyes. “I have a… personal question I need to ask you. And I’m sorry to bother you with this, I just--I have to ask.”

Ominous. “Okay?”

“Did we…” He sighed again, mouth twisting. “Did you, as a result of our repeated sexual encounters four years ago, happen to have any children by me?”

He just rattled it off, as if it was something he’d said over and over and over again, tired of receiving the same answer, but never expecting anything different.

“Excuse me?”

“I know, I know, it’s an extremely rude question, and I know I have no right to ask you, especially since it’s been so long, but I swear, there’s a reason I--”

“Did you never get any of the letters I sent you?”

At that, his head shot up. The look in his eyes could only be described as ‘terror.’ “What?”

“I must have sent you half a dozen,” she said, crossing to the kitchen, the wine making her a little bit short. She had, in fact, sent him eight letters, with pictures, and never received a single response, but since he seemed genuinely lost, she decided not to tell him. Plucking the most recent photo down from the fridge, she returned to the man in her living room, his knuckles white around the can. 

Standing before him, she handed him the photograph. He took it, fingers shaking. “We… you…” 

“Percy Jackson,” she said, like she was introducing him to someone at a party, “meet your children.”

Even after they had just been born, Annabeth had seen how obviously they were his. Only their daughter had the same messy black hair, both both had the same long, straight nose, the same intense, brooding brow as their father--and when her son smiled, or her daughter laughed, it was hard not to see the shades of Percy so strongly in them. It was hard to see them, too. 

Percy’s mouth was trembling. His eyes were wide, glassy, fixed on the photo. “My--” he swallowed. “What--what are their names?”

“Alexander,” she said, softly, “and Anne--”

“Annemarie,” he breathed. “Alexander and Annemarie.” He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “You remembered?”

Of course she remembered. Two lonely kids, she and Percy had spent so much of their childhood together, playing house, building their perfect family, even if only in their imagination. Alexander for his mother’s cousin, and Annemarie because he had wanted to name their  daughter Annabeth, and she wouldn’t let him. Twenty years later, alone and in pain, holding her newborn children and alternately cursing the man who made them and desperately wishing he were with her, Annabeth had known that they could only have one set of names, even if their father might never meet them. 

His face crumpled. He dropped his head into his hand, and groaned, like someone had pressed on an open wound. 

“Percy!” Annabeth sat down next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his leg. Four years later and it still felt so natural to touch him like this. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, he grunted. “Yeah,” he croaked, voice hoarse, “I’m okay. I’m fine. I just--” And then he shuddered, a hand coming up to scrub at his eyes. 

He was crying, she realized suddenly. Annabeth used to be the one that cried. She could count on one hand how many times she’d seen him cry. He hadn’t even cried when she had finally left the naval base. 

Taking a shaking breath, he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his expensive suit. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, shattered. “I didn’t--I never--if I had known, I swear, I would have left the navy. I would have come home.”

The silent, unspoken “to you” echoed in the dead air of her apartment. “Why didn’t you?” she asked, quietly.

They held each other’s eyes, an eternity passing in a heartbeat. Neither wanted to break the sacred silence, to bring words into the crystalline moment that hung in the balance between them. 

“I never got your letters,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I… after you--left, I…” he sighed, aching. “I… got hurt. Bad.” 

Annabeth couldn’t breathe. 

“And,” he huffed a laugh, wet and messy, “and then I met my father. Can you believe it?”

Her eyes bugged out of her head. “You what?”

He nodded.

“He’s alive?” 

Sally rarely spoke of him, and Percy had always refused to. Annabeth had just assumed he had died, years and years and years ago. 

Percy laughed again, humorless. “He’s the king of Thera.”

Her jaw dropped. “He…”

“Yeah.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Shaking his head, he smiled, rueful. “I wish.”

Words from a half-remembered newscast floated through her mind. Alexander and Annemarie had been right terrors that night, and she had only been half-listening as the reporter informed the world that Triton, hereditary prince of Thera, had died, killed in military action. “He… found you?”

Percy nodded, miserable. “He told me--asked--told me to--to find anyone I might have…” And then he swallowed, tears in his eyes again, real, glistening tears. “And I am so, so sorry, I know--I know your job is here, and your whole life, and the children, but I--”

She took his hand in hers, squeezing gently so he didn’t fly away. “It’s okay,” she said. “Just say it.”

“I’m supposed to--I’m supposed to… if you would… come with me,” he trailed off, suddenly shy. 

For the second time tonight, she felt like she’d been hit with a sledgehammer. “...What?”

“He… my father… the king wants--needs heirs. He… he asked for a list of women, and I… gave him your name.” Stomach hot, Annabeth wished she had the courage to know about the other women on that list. Or to ask  why Percy, young and handsome as he’d been at both twelve and twenty, wasn’t out there making some new ones himself. Why was he chasing down old leads? Why was he chasing down Chase bastards? “You’d--you’d live in the castle,” he said, like he was trying to sell her on it, though she could tell his heart wasn’t really in it, “and we, well, we’d technically have to get married, but that doesn’t need to be a big deal. You’d get your own rooms. You can set them up however you want. And you’d have a personal staff, a stipend, and the kids would get private teachers, and--”

“Staff?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Yes?”

Staff. Someone to do the laundry and clean the dishes. Someone to cook dinner and look after the house. Someone to help. Someone to do all the parental things that she just could not do, not by herself. Not without him. 

“I know I have no right to ask this of you,” he said, squeezing her hand. His hand was just as big as she remembered, and just as warm. “And I would never, ever force you to do anything that you wouldn’t want to--”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting him. 

He blinked, dumbly. “What?”

“Yes. I’ll come with you. We all will.”

“...Oh. Uh, great. That’s--that’s good. Are you sure?” He looked like a lost little dolphin, eyes huge and uncertain, and then, Annabeth did the one thing that she’d been desperately wanting to do for the last four years. 

She pulled his face to hers, and she kissed him. Shocked, he stiffened, almost pulling away--before relaxing into her, cupping her face in his big, warm hand. Eyes closed, they leaned their heads against each other, sharing air once more for the first time in years. She had lost him twice already: once as a child, when her father had decided to move her across the country, and once as a lovestruck college girl, when she had to leave the naval base, four years ago. She wasn’t about to lose him for a third time. 

And for the first time in forever, she no longer felt like she was drowning.

[chocoholicannanymous]

Concepts in Action (Glee)

Follow-up to Concepts of Insanity, spawned by a talk with @jwmelmoth

Slighty different mood than that one, but same base principle.

Returning to the loft after skating should be a relief after the awkwardness of doing such a loaded activity with his ex. Except it doesn't feel that good, and he's got some uncomfortable suspicions regarding Blaine's backpack.

“So, dad. You brought Blaine. Exactly when's his ticket back?”

“Day after tomorrow, same as mine.”

“Right. And where is he staying?”

“Well...” His dad's facial expression answers that question in a way that makes Kurt's heart sink.

Fan.Tast.Ic.

“So when you said I could return my present if I wanted to, exactly how was that supposed to work? It isn't, is it? I'm stuck with him whether I want to or not.”

“Kurt!”

His dad's voice is full of surprise and a bit of censor, but Kurt isn't going to let that influence him. His dad's crossed a line, and Kurt's not going to pretend otherwise.

“Remember the first Christmas after mom passed away? How you sat me down and apologized for my presents, before I'd even opened them, because you just weren't good at buying gifts? And remember how I told you that anything you'd gotten me would be perfect, because it was from you and I loved you? Yes?

“Okay. I still love you, but I'm taking the rest of that back. You coming here to tell me you have cancer was bad enough. Finding out you consider my ex an acceptable 'gift' for Christmas goes from bad to really shitty, and I don't know what you were thinking. Especially seeing as apparently you felt it was okay to tell him about your cancer before telling me.”

“I didn't want you to be alone.”

Kurt just stares, unable to process.

“I have cancer, and I knew you'd have a hard time to deal. I brought Blaine because I figured you'd need the support, the comfort.”

“And you brought my ex for that?”

Then again, support wasn't Blaine's strongest suit even when we were together, was it?

“Hey, you're the one who told me he wasn't just your boyfriend, he was your best friend too.”

“Yes, but that was before” he cheated on me “we broke up.”

His dad still doesn't seem to get it and Kurt can't take it.

“You know what, I need some air. I'm going to take a walk. You stay here, make sure Blaine stays out of my bedroom.”

Kurt starts out with going around the block, but he's still upset after and takes another loop, this time longer. It takes half an hour for him to feel ready to go back inside and deal.

Sitting on the couch with his dad and Blaine as they watch baseball is annoying as hell. Any other time, he'd take the closeness and read Vogue, especially now that his dad has admitted to knowing about it. But with Blaine actually watching and interacting with his dad about the game Kurt feels uncomfortable not doing the same. So he tries. Once he gives up and reaches for his magazine he heard his dad and Blaine joke about having bet about how long he'd hold out.

And then the next hit comes.

“So, Kurt, I know that this might be a bit weird for you, and you can totally say no if you want to,” sure, just like I could return the 'gift' of your presence, “ but I'm applying to NYADA for next year.”

Kurt sighs silently. Of course he is. The thing is, he can see it, the way Blaine probably assumes it'll play out. Blaine moving to New York, going to NYADA, buddying up to Rachel just like in high school... Kurt being expected to just take it, regardless of if he had been accepted or not. Any contacts Kurt might have gotten supposed to be at Blaine's beck and call, Blaine talking his way into Kurt's classes trying to replace him, like he had in Glee and with Cheerios... Kurt bending over backwards to make Blaine happy, just like in high school.

Because there would never be a chance of him being allowed to continue to say no to Blaine with them at the same school.

Thank god that's not going to happen.

And really, what was Blaine trying to do here? Pretending that Kurt's opinion mattered? The time for that would have been months ago, before applying.

“Oh really? You know what, I think NYADA might be perfect for you.” Not in terms of actual schooling, maybe, as Kurt's had the blinds torn off regarding Blaine's talent, but for the rest... He imagines Carmen Tibideaux subjecting Blaine to some of her special treatment. The definition of Karma, surely.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. From everything I've heard you'd get along really well with the dean, and well, Rachel seems to thrive. Good luck.”

With no encouragement to keep talking about NYADA Blaine wanders off to grab something to drink and Kurt refocuses on his dad, trying to squeeze out as much of this visit as possible.

“Hey Kurt? What does NUY want with you?”

Kurt turns his head so fast it feels like he's in danger of whiplash.

“Are you going through my mail? Stop it!”

The words come out hard and he can see both his dad and Blaine react. He doesn't care though.

“You know, you going through my personal things wasn't cute when we dated either. Back then I just cared more about keeping the peace than about keeping my privacy. Since that's not a problem anymore, let me just be clear. I might be allowing you to stay here, but that's not an invitation in any way. Not to snooping, not to feeling at home, and not to getting back together.

“This is my home, and you are – putting it kindly – a guest. Behave with the decency I know your mom expects of you. If you can't do that then leave.”

He wishes Blaine would, but knows it's not likely.

“Buddy...”

“Kurt! You can't mean that you'd throw me out. Where would I go?”

Blaine looks like Kurt has done the verbal equivalent of throwing a bucket of ice water in his face. It has no effect on Kurt's resolve though.

“I neither know nor care. You either respect my home or you don't stay in it. This is New York. There are thousands of hotels and hostels.”

His dad just stares at him, as if he doesn't know who Kurt is anymore, and it hurts. Out of all the people liking Blaine better than him Kurt had never figured his dad would be one. And yet here he was, feeling the same way as he'd once felt with Finn.

“Buddy, you're being a bit harsh here, don't you think? Yes, I'll admit that maybe bringing Blaine without warning you was a little...impulsive, but why are you so angry? And don't be so hardnosed about getting back together, for your own sake.

“Like I said earlier, love's important. Holding on to love is important. I don't want you to throw away what you and Blaine have, not when you never know what will happen, or how long you'll have that opportunity. It's a cruel world, Kurt, but having someone to share with makes it better.”

Kurt takes a deep breath and tries, really really tries to keep his bitterness in. He's not doing that great a job.

“Holding on to love is important, sure. But there's such a thing as holding on too long and too hard. Blaine and I broke up for good reasons, and I wish you'd respect that.”

It's like his dad isn't even hearing him though.

“You know, your mom and I found it hard being apart too.”

Kurt did know. As a kid he'd loved hearing about his mom's semester in France, and he'd been told enough to know that it'd been tough. He'd read some of their letters to each other though, and he doubts either of them dealt the way Blaine did.

“So? Yes, being apart is hard. But that isn't an excuse for everything. I didn't want to get you involved in all of this, but since that's obviously not going to be an option anymore, fine. Blaine cheated. He felt I didn't pay enough attention to him, you know, between finding a job and a place to stay, and making enough money to pay the bills, and generally trying to make myself a life here after he practically pushed me to go here.

“And so he went and found someone else to give him that attention.”

He practically spits out the last sentence. It feels good to finally allow himself to say it, but the look on his dad's face doesn't feel as good.

If he was less angry maybe he'd be able to stop himself, worry about his dad's heart. But the anger's been simmering too long for that.

“That's why we broke up, and that's why I find the idea of getting back together objectionable. And you can talk about holding on to love until you're blue in the face, but I'm not the one who needs that lecture.”

He swallows down the lump in his throat, but goes on.

“As for the rest of it, are you seriously suggesting I take back my cheating boyfriend because that's better than being alone? Or because I don't know how long I'll live? Because if you are... What's next, dad? Telling me I should marry him because you and mom didn't get enough time together?

“If any of those things are going through your head you are also welcome to leave. I'll never not welcome you in my home, dad, but I need you to respect me. I need you to not act like you're putting someone else's son above yours.”

That's a warning that hits the target, and it's obvious that Burt Hummel remembers a row of uncomfortable talks about Finn. He deflects by turning on Blaine though.

“You...”

“No, dad. It is over and done with. Leave him be. Just... Just leave it alone. I don't want to take anymore fighting. Please?”

They stare at each other and for a while Kurt wonders if he should have done as he normally does and just backed down. Swallowed down his hurt and anger and frustration, kept quiet about the injustices done to him, and just pretended to be okay. Tried to not upset his dad, and risk his health.

Except he's done that for years, and it's clearly not working. His dad's health has failed again, with the cancer – and no matter how good the prognosis, or the treatments available, a cancer diagnosis is a health failure. Plus his dad is trying to fix him and Blaine, out of some misguided idea that they're going to be the next Burt-and-Lizzie, and he never would have done that if Kurt'd been honest about the cheating instead of blaming distance.

At least Kurt hopes he wouldn't.

“Sometimes, dad, first loves end. They end because of death, or because they're not meant to last, or because of something else. And then you meet someone else, and they make your life amazing. I'm not going to deprive myself of that by holding on to something that's ended. Just like you didn't. You found love again. I will too.

“I just need to be allowed to do so.”

They keep staring at each other, and then his dad nods. Kurt can't help it, he throws himself in his dad's arms, with tears already beginning to fall.

As they hug Kurt hear Blaine muttering in the background about finding a hotel, but he doesn't care. The door to the loft closing feels like it's closing on him and Blaine too, and it's such a relief.

After several minutes they let go. Both need to remove traces of crying, but that's good.

Once they're seated again Kurt searches for something to talk about, but his dad beats him to it.

“So, NYU? Or should I pretend I didn't hear that?”

“No! I have been thinking about things, about school, and I was an idiot for not applying to more schools last year. So, I did some research and then I did something about it. I've applied to half a dozen schools, and I've already been accepted to one for the fall semester. I don't know if there's any school willing to take me for the spring, but if there's not I'll just keep working and try to save up money.”

“And what about NYADA?”

There's no judgment in his dad's voice, and Kurt smiles as he tries to describe the situation diplomatically.

“It's...not looking as good in my research as I thought, so while I did reapply there I'm not sure I want to go there. I really shouldn't have listened to Rachel last year, because as it turns out? NYADA actually isn't the most prestigious school for performing arts, and it's probably not even the best for me. I guess we were both a little starstruck, you know?”

The game is back on, but they ignore it and talk, and it's everything Kurt would have wanted.

O--o---o--O

Months later as classes start up Kurt receives voicemail after voicemail about Blaine starting at NYADA, about how bad it is that Kurt's not been accepted, about them meeting up. Kurt ignores them as he did the calls and walks into vogue.com with a smile.

He doesn't feel the least bad about not getting in. Hell, he didn't even apply for the fall semester.

No, Kurt's happy where he is, with his job at vogue.com, a spot at the New School and a couple of scholarships helping pay the way. Oh, and a new boyfriend, which also contributes to his happiness.

Turns out? Acting in new ways can get you new and rewarding results. All you got to do is try.

[genshin-impact-writings]

Request for your special event-

Character: Albedo

prompt: 'I love you, my little prince"

Song: Once upon a dream: Lana Del Rey

If it is possible, Can the reader be the one to say the prompt and is a fatui harbinger [or someone that the knights are just wary off] ?? (I am a sucker for forbidden love but the reader is just "screw u, Imma date them anyways) I apologize if this is too specific.

Thank You in advance and Congrats on your milestone!! <3

First of all, thank you very much for your request. I love this song and Albedo, so it really was the perfect combination. Also, this turned out a lot longer than I originally planned, and I really hope you like what I came up with. Have a good day/night and take care! <3

Once upon a dream – Albedo x gn!Fatui!reader

I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do

You’ll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

Mondstadt was beautiful at night. Although most of the shops were already closed, the streets were still filled with people, sitting in front of the taverns where they enjoyed a few drinks and the balmy breeze that blew gently through the alleyways. Everything was peaceful and somehow quite idyllic, and you stopped in your track to take in all the impressions that rained down on you.

In your life, you had barely experienced moments like this. As a member of the Fatui, you were always on the road, traveling wherever your Archon sent you and fulfilling every mission she gave you. It was a restless life, dangerous too, but you had never been one to complain, especially since you had always dreamed about exploring Teyvat, seeing other cities and meeting new people along the way. Without the Fatui, you probably would still be stuck in Snezhnaya where you would be doing the same things every day, always wondering if this was all life had in store for you.

Needless to say that you still felt incredibly honored that the Tsaritsa had chosen you, alongside with a few other Fatui Diplomats, to accompany Signora, one of the Eleven Harbingers, on her trip to Mondstadt. So far, the trip had been everything but fun, every day filled with work and duties, including spying on the Knights of Favonius that were understandably weary of every Fatui who set foot in their city. Most of them kept their eyes on you twenty-four-seven.

Even now, during your rare free time, you could feel the guards watching you as you made your way back to the market district. A couple of people were standing outside of Cat’s Tail, laughing and joking around, just like they usually did. By now, you recognized most of them since you came by here every day. It was one of the few spots in Mondstadt where nobody payed attention to you because they were too busy with minding their own business to wonder about a Fatui Diplomat passing by, eyeing them curiously before walking on.

Your destination was the upper square, the one with the pretty fountain, right in front of Good Hunter. You had enjoyed a few meals there over the past few days (people where rightfully proud of the restaurant) but at this late hour, the shop was already closed, promotional signs neatly stored away.

You sat down on one of the benches near the fountain and crossed your legs as you let your eyes wander. During the day, this square was a popular meeting spot but now, there were only a few people here. The perfect opportunity to see him again.

During the few meetings with the Knights of Favonius you had attended, he had stayed in the background, only speaking when someone addressed him directly and even then, his answers had been quite brief. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that he preferred to keep to himself, hence why he almost exclusively came here long after dark to inspect the Crafting Bench for any damages and to have a quick conversation with Timaeus, the alchemist who supervised the Crafting Bench throughout the day.

Usually, you kept your distance, admiring him from afar, but today, you had promised yourself to finally introduce yourself to him. Not only because it was rude to stare at someone you barely knew but also because a considerable part of you really wanted to find out who the Chief Alchemist truly was.

You didn’t have to wait long. Propping up your head on your hand, you watched him as he talked to Timaeus. His bright teal eyes almost seemed to glow in the warm light of the street lamps, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It really should be illegal to be that pretty.

About twenty minutes later, Timaeus made his farewells to the Chief Alchemist, leaving him with a bunch of notes. It took you a brief moment to realize that this was the moment you had waited for but then, you jumped to your feet and took a deep breath before walking over to him.

“Excuse me,” you said, your heart starting to beat frantically as he looked at you, a slightly confused expression on his face. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you,” you continued and cleared your throat when you realized how squeaky your voice was sounding. “But I think you might have dropped this.”

You put out your hand, showing him the tiny gemstone you had bought at With wind comes glory a few hours ago. The stone’s color perfectly matched his eyes, the same bright teal that you saw in your dreams sometimes. You were absolutely sure that nobody else on this earth had eyes so pretty that you even thought about them in your sleep.

“No, I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” he replied softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s not mine.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. Well, that didn’t go as planned, you thought and let out a quiet sigh. So, what else could you say to him?

Usually, you had a quick tongue and always managed to figure out a topic to talk about but right now, you felt like every statement that came to your mind was either incredibly stupid or completely irrelevant. Think, you urged yourself, think!

But he had already lost interest in you. His attention was back on the clipboard Timaeus had handed him earlier, his brows slightly furrowed as he studied the notes from his assistant.

“So, um- can I perhaps ask you a few things about alchemy?” you asked when the silence between the two of you got uncomfortable. He didn’t look up from his notes but at least, he nodded which you took as a good sign.

“I mean, not now,” you added, painfully aware that you didn’t even know enough about alchemy to ask him a simple question. It definitely would have been better to prepare for this conversation but now it was too late to turn back. “I just – I wanted to make sure that you’re okay with helping me before I deluge you with my questions.”

Finally, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours for a brief second. “Ah, it’s you. I saw you at the meetings. You’re one of the Fatui Diplomats,” he said but unlike others, he didn’t seem to judge you. He simply stated a fact, nothing more. If anything, he sounded a bit curious.

“My name’s (Y/N),” you replied, in an almost desperate attempt to keep the conversation going because a part of you really didn’t want him to leave. When you saw the small smile that flashed over his face, you felt like your heart stopped for a second.

“I’m Albedo.”

But if I know you, I know what you’ll do

You’ll love me at once, the way you did

Once upon a dream.

That’s when it all had started. Whenever you weren’t busy with your mission or other tasks Signora assigned you to, you spent every minute with Albedo, listening to his musings about alchemy and the secrets of the world he desperately wanted to disclose. You didn’t understand half of the things he was talking about but you didn’t mind. It was enough for you to just listen to him, watching how his eyes lit up whenever he made progress in his research, and every time he sheepishly thanked you for keeping him company, you found yourself falling for him a bit more.

Of course, you knew right from the beginning that it was stupid to develop feelings for him, given the fact that you had to leave Mondstadt at some point to return back to Snezhnaya – but there was nothing you could do to stop it. Everything about Albedo was adorable. He was a gentle soul, curious and kind and so beautiful that it still took your breath away every time you look at him. And you wanted to be with him, against all reason. There was just something about him that seemed so familiar, so wonderfully familiar that you simply didn’t have the power to resist him.

And before you had even fully realized what was happening, you were already head over heels in love with him.

You didn’t tell him, at first. After all, he was still the Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favionius and you were still a member of the Fatui, someone the knights didn’t trust at all, and you didn’t want to spoil the precious time you could spend together.

But eventually, you didn’t want to keep it a secret any longer. You wanted him to know how much he really meant to you. It had been an awkward confession, your face hot from embarrassment when he didn’t respond immediately but as soon as he softly asked if it would be alright to kiss you, you fell in love with him all over again.

I know you, I’ve walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem

But, just as all good things, your relationship with Albedo came to an end about three months later when new orders from Snezhnaya arrived, recalling you and the other remaining Fatui Diplomats back to your home country immediately. Signora and the vast majority of her team had already left Mondstadt quite a while ago, and it would be a lie if you said that it hadn’t raised your hopes up that you were allowed to stay for a little longer.

Now, all your hopes were shattered to pieces. You could feel tears burning in your eyes as you stared down at the letter in your hand, reading the orders over and over again as you tried to understand that it was really over this time. There was no way you could convince your superior or even the Tsaritsa to prolong your deployment in Mondstadt.

How were you supposed to tell Albedo about this? How were you supposed to say Goodbye to him?

You should have stayed away from him right from the start. Then, you would have been the only one who got his heart broken by your new orders but no, you had decided to drag Albedo into this mess, and now you were forced to leave him.

You buried your face in your hands. This was slowly becoming just one big nightmare, one that threatened the wonderful, silly dream you had about your future. A future you wanted to share with Albedo. But of course, you couldn’t, not as long as you were a Fatui. And you couldn’t leave them either because you had sworn an oath to the Tsaritsa; you had sworn to be true to her and Snezhnaya, no matter what happened, and to break this oath had never been an option for you. Heck, you probably wouldn’t even survive betraying your Archon like that, let alone get the happy ending you wished for.

So, no matter how you put it, you had no other choice than to return to Snezhnaya.

*

You couldn’t sleep, contrary to Albedo who was sound asleep next to you, all snuggled up to you and completely unaware of the emotional rollercoaster you had been experiencing for the past few days. You had waited for the perfect moment to tell him that you had to leave but of course, it never came. There simply was no perfect moment to tell the person you loved that you couldn’t stay with them any longer, that you had no idea when you’d be able to see each other again. If you would ever see each other again.

And with that in mind, you had decided that it was for the best to just leave. Albedo would be heartbroken, yes, but he would be angry, too. And maybe that anger would be enough to make him move on from you. But for now, you wanted to enjoy the time the two of you had still left. The Fatui delegation would leave Mondstadt in the early morning, as agreed with the Acting Grandmaster, so you still had another two, maybe three hours you could spend by Albedo’s side.

You turned your head to press a soft kiss to Albedo’s cheek. He mumbled something in his sleep, and when you heard your name, your heart dropped. He was dreaming about you.

He was dreaming about you and you were about to leave him without even saying Goodbye.

*

Dawn came and with it the moment you had feared for the past few days. But you had made your decision, and it was too late to change your mind.

Carefully, you tried to pull away from Albedo who was still clinging to you, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, almost as if he had sensed that this would be the last night you would spend together. You felt terrible as you pushed his arm aside, freeing yourself from his hug, although every part of you screamed to stay here with him.

But you had to leave. And until now, everything went just as you had planned.

Until you accidentally knocked the small lamp on the bedside table over when you gathered the few belongings you hadn’t packed up yet.

Albedo stirred awake, his eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding his eyes.

“(Y/N)?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Where are you going?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to fight back the urge to tell him the truth, and leaned back down to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Nowhere,” you reassured him softly. “You’re just dreaming, my love. Go back to sleep.”

Your fingertips caressed his skin, gently tracing the outlines of his face as you watched him slowly drifting off to sleep again.

“I love you, my little prince,” you whispered and pressed a soft kiss to his lips one last time before you turned away and quietly left the room. Please forgive me.

The walk to the town gate gave you enough time to regain your composure. By the time you joined the others, you had carefully locked away your emotions, putting on that blank expression that didn’t show how much it hurt you to leave this city.

Lyudmila, one of the other Diplomats, gave you a brief smile. “Looks like we’re all here,” she said. “Let’s go home. We’ve spent way too much time here already.”

You nodded, although you couldn’t help but flinch at the word home. Snezhnaya would never be your home again, not when Albedo couldn’t be there with you.

Maybe one day, you thought to yourself and granted yourself one more look at Mondstadt and the town walls that almost seemed to glow in the warm light of the rising sun, we will meet again.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.

[elena-reina]

A Soul - Draco Malfoy x Reader

Request: Can you make one where Draco and a female reader were hooking up in secret? Draco falls in love just to find out she has a muggle parents but is magical herself? Basically a mudblood but more emphasis on muggle - chaoticdeanzonkland

Warnings: some fluff, angst

Y/H: Your house- ie. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, etc. 

Y/H/C: Your house color

Part 2

A fire crackled in the Slytherin commonroom projecting long shadows on the surrounding area. The light casted by the flames danced across the dark shadows of the room in obscure shapes and provided a small radius of light. The warmth of the fire fillled the room with its warm embrace. The flames were mesmerizing to watch, colors of orange and red gave way to yellow and white near the centre, where the emanating heat was the greatest. 

You exhaled a quiet sigh snuggling closer to Draco. The sun had already tured itself over to the moon permitting it to be evening. Everyone else had been long gone in their rooms sleeping, or so you thought. You didn’t know what hour it was, but it must’ve been late because you could feel Draco becoming more sluggish as the minutes passed by, not that you minded. This was one of the very few times were the two of you could enjoy some peace and company together. 

The truth of the matter is that the two of you had been meeting in secret for the longest. It started off as a light friendship of the two of you teasing each other and then grew into a blossoming affection for one another. With Draco’s hard exterior and a few secrets of your own, you both thought it was best to keep your relationship a secret.

Your thoughts were interupted by soft snores coming from the boy you loved above you. Gazing up at him, you smiled warmly. You raised your arm and cupped his cheek, gently rubbing it with your thumb.

“Draco,” you whispered softly. He stirred a bit and tiredly opened his grey eyes. They were slightly red from how exhausted he was from throughout the day.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to doze off there,” he mumbled still trying to wake himself up.

You shook your head and sat up, now longer leaning on him. He was tired and it would not be fair of you to keep him up. “Go to bed, it’s alright-”

“No,” he cut you off, “This is one of the handful of times we get to be with each other unbothered.”

You smiled as he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. Pulling away, you gazed back into his eyes.

“We will still see each other more, but it’ll be better when we are both well rested, don’t you agree?” you grinned. 

A yawn escaped his mouth in response, scratching the back of his head.

“Good answer,” you laughed and stood up, holding out a hand for him to grab onto. He begrudgingly grabbed it and hoisted himself up. Towering over you, he cupped your cheeks placing, first, a kiss on your forehead, then your nose, and lastly your lips.

“I think..,” he began, “No, I know I’m falling head over heels in love with you.”

A blushed rose to your cheeks. You couldn’t contain your excitement as you smiled from ear to ear. He’s never said this before.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince, just said he was in love with you.

“You really mean it?”

Grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest, right above his heart, he spoke. “With all my heart.”

Throwing your arms around his neck, you crashed your lips to his once more, savoring each kiss. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Never in a million years did you think you’d ever get to talk to Draco Malfoy, let alone get a confession.

Pulling away, you couldn’t stop smiling. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Till tomorrow,” he mumbled quietly, but lovingly. Letting go, you walked to your Y/H bedroom.

The next morning, the first ray of sun beamed through the Y/H/C curtains, turning the stillness of the night into a peaceful morning. A fleck of sunlight glittered on the window pane, reflecting the light into the room. You sat up letting a yawn escape your lips. Remembering the events of last night, you held your rosy cheeks, you still couldn’t help but blush. Stepping out onto the hardwood floor, you shuddered at the cold as a light breeze greeted you for a good day ahead.

You got dressed in your usual robes and exited to the Grand Hall for breakfast. Everybody’s eyes were on you, but you were oblivous to it. Sitting at the Y/H table, you were greeted by your friends.

“G’mornin’ Y/N,” Sylvia chirped.

“Morning!” Adrian said.

“Good morning you guys,” you smiled warmly. 

The moment you slid into your seat, Sylvia and Adrian began filling your plate with food: Eggs, ham, piles of fried potatoes, fruit, and an elegant glass of orange juice.

“What’s with all this?” you laughed. They never served you before, naturally making you suspicious of their actions.

“When were you going to tell us the news?” Adrian grinned.

Your heart dropped and your voice grew quiet. “..What news?” You began to stuff your mouth with some of the food, to inevitably buy yourself more time for what’s to come.

“Not going to lie, I am a little hurt that you hadn’t told us before,” Sylvia piped in.

“About..?”

“Aboooouuut you and Malfoy! Duh!” she exclaimed.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!

No one was supposed to know about your relationship, at least not yet. Draco hasn’t even learned that you are not a pure-blood, or so you think. His reputation meant everything to him and you just wanted to be able to have one thing to yourself that you wouldn’t have to feel ashamed of. A look a worry washed over your face, your friends took note of this.

“Hey, Y/N,” Slyvia began, “Are you alright?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you regained consiousness in your conversation. “How did you guys find out? Who did you hear it from?”

They looked at each other and shrugged.

“I don’t really know, we over heard some third-years talking about the two of you oddly, but we don’t know who they heard it from,” Adrian mumbled, “Although, I must say I am surprised that he does not mind dating a person of your background.”

Your furrowed your eyebrows, somewhat offended.

“Excuse you.”

“He didn’t mean it like that. I believe what he’s trying to say is that Malfoy doesn’t really date, and if he does we would assume it would be with someone that’s pureblooded, again no offense to your background because we love you,” Sylvia cleared up. 

You rolled your eyes and looked over to where Draco would usually sit for breakfast, however he wasn’t there. Instead a random Slytherin was there, making kissy faces to mock you. Scrunching your nose in disgust, you turned back to your plate and continued to eat.

Throughout the whole day, you’ve been waiting to bump into Draco. But to no avail, somehow he managed to be missing all day. 

As a matter of fact, you hadn’t seen him for the past coming weeks going on since people had found out the two of you were “official,” if you could even call it that. And on top of it all, you still had no idea how anyone found out in the first place. You spent sleepless nights just waiting for the day you could talk to him, let alone just be able to see him wandering around somewhere.

All the spots you would usually meet up with Draco, he was never there. It was like he had disappeard from existence and left the school. You would go early to the Dining Hall somedays to try and see him, but he never showed up.

After weeks of having no luck to find him, luckily, there was a Quidditch game between Slytherin and Ravenclaw that was going to end soon. You never really went to any of the games, but this time you did in hopes of finding Draco because you knew he would be there for his team. 

Fortunately, you arrived in just enough time before the game was about to end and Slytherin had ultimately won. Soaring around on his broom stick, you saw that familiar head of platinum hair. A feint smile rose to your cheeks as you walked down the stairs and waited at the end of the field that the players have to walk through to go to their locker rooms. You stood off to the side, out of the way of everyone as both the Slytherin and Ravenclaw players were walking back. Slytherin was cheering as they won this one and Draco had a genuine smile on his face. 

He walked past you, not noticing you were there, until you spoke up.

“Draco!” you called. He then heard you and clenched his jaw, but kept walking picking up his speed.

“Draco, wait up!” you yelled after him while clumsily bumping into some of the Quidditch players while doing so. 

“Hi, passing through-.. sorry... excuse me..- I’ve just- Hey!” you repeated over and over trying to get through them and reach him. Getting just close enough, you grabbed onto his robe, the only thing within reach, and held him back.

“Draco,” you breathed softly as you finally reached him.

He snapped turning around, glaring down at you. “It’s Malfoy to you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, taken back by his sudden reaction and demeanor. You stiffened up not knowing what to say. You hadn’t seen him in weeks, you didn’t know what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I.. what’s going on with you,” you frowned, attempting to put your arm on his shoulder but he dodged it immediately.

“What, Y/N. What do you want.” he said frustrated, looking back at the hall behind him at the doors to the locker room.

“I want to know what’s going on with you! I haven’t seen you for weeks, with no letter, no call, no explanation-”

He scoffed cutting you out of your thoughts, looking off to the side.

“What?”

You managed to keep your composure, but you wanted to break down from frustation.

“You’re in no position to be asking me for an explanation of any kind. You’re the one who owes me one,” he snapped, keeping his cold and hard stare on you.

You remained calm, not wanting to match his energy. You shifted on your feet and crossed your arms over your chest. If it’s stern he wants, then it’s stern he gets.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stated truthfully.

“When were you planning on telling me?”

You groaned. “Telling you what, Draco-”

“MALFOY.” he snapped immediately.

“Malfoy.”

“That you lied to me. You’re no pureblood,” he spat, his face looking in disgust.

Is that what this is about? There has to be something else underlying it, because not even he treats the golden trio this way. Where was the caring Draco a few weeks ago who was just professing his love.

You held up your hand to stop him from going any further. 

“Dra- Malfoy, I never lied to you. I never told you I was a pureblood, you just assumed!”

“You never told me you weren’t! Just to think I told someone like you that I loved you,” he sneered, “And to make matters worst, you go around parading it to everyone the very next morning.”

Your heart sank in your chest. Draco was hurting very much on the inside, but he was blinded by his own insecurities and cold exterior. Something he was very much famous for, not giving a care in the world to anyone but himself. You made sure not to show it but his words hurt you deeply. Before you could let any more of his words hurt you, you stood up straight gazing into his grey eyes.

“I never told a soul,” you whispered, spun on your heel, and walked away.

[pettyvxbes]

Colson Baker x Reader - Ocean Eyes III

This was originally only supposed to be three parts, but I have so many ideas. . . I might be getting a little carried away. If anyone is interested in being included on the tag list for ocean eyes drop me a comment. ❤ Btw, ya'll rock, and I'm so thrilled that you're digging where this story is going as much as I am!!

SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL COFFEE DEALER

Colson had insisted on going to a coffee shop across town, even though there were plenty of great coffee shops near Shaker Square that you two had frequented on your previous Saturday adventures. He initially suggested that you ride with him, but you declined the offer and opted to drive yourself, much to your dismay. You considered making a wrong turn to head back to your sister's house several times as you followed closely behind him but decided against the outlandish idea.

Pulling into the parking lot, you immediately noticed the sizeable pink skull painted on the side of the brick building. It read "Drink. Eat. Work. Meet" arched across the top with "The" on the forehead, a 2 and 7 in separate eye sockets, "club" on the chin, and the most clever part was the nose which was a cup of steaming coffee. The aesthetic was everything, and you quickly understood why Colson had wanted to bring you to this specific coffee shop. It was edgy and artistic, kind of like you, and he knew you would love it.

"This place is fucking awesome." You gushed, taking in the surrounding interior. The walls were painted pink and accented with black. There were skulls in various places throughout the room, and directly in front of you behind a large circular counter were the associates, wearing "Coffee Dealer" tees, waiting patiently to take your order. Capturing every aspect of the shop, you noticed the music playing. It was a synth-pop-R&B beat accompanied by the voice of Chris Brown and Usher.

"You gon' be my baby Love me, love me crazy Tell me you with it Baby, come and get it Maybe try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

It was one of those songs that stuck in your memory and could take you back to a specific time and place. You looked over at Colson to find him looking back at you, and you were instantly transported to that cold January night eleven years ago, the night you had first met Colson.

The air was crisp, and the night sky was aglow with the bright city lights of Atlanta. You were visiting your best friend for what was left of your winter break at NYU. She couldn't wait to take you out on the town. So naturally, you both ended up at the Gold Room less than five hours after you had touched down in the Empire State of the South.

The Gold Room was fancy. Golden poles were lining a transparent window rail in the main seating area. Each roped-off section donned eccentric gold couches, chandeliers, and splashy tropical lighting, all of which highlighted the significance of those seated there. You happened to find yourself smack dab in the middle of the distinguished crowd, behind the velvet ropes. All thanks to your gorgeous best friend who had been casually seeing one of the Atlanta Hawks.

"Y/n, don't look now, but that guy over there has been staring at you since we walked in." Your best friend screamed into your ear over the loud music.

"Which one?" You questioned, waiting to turn and look.

"The blonde with the tattoos!" She paused, taking a sip of her drink. She could tell you were waiting for a more descriptive answer. "You'll know which one. He's fine as fuck!" She screamed, causing you to chuckle at her bluntness.

You casually turned to the side to look for the mystery guy, and you were quickly met with his blue eyes. You felt your cheeks flush a bit as he maintained eye contact.

You were beautiful in a way that the other girls in the club weren't. You were confident but not cocky, and your attire was modest but still sexy. You didn't need to be accepted by others, which was apparent in how you carried yourself. Your smile was beaming as you looked back at him, and Colson could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was captivated.

Your eye contact was broken by one of the tall basketball players in your section offering you a glass of champagne. You accepted the drink and made small talk for a moment before quietly excusing yourself to the ladies' room. At least that's what you told your friend, but if you were honest, you were actually looking for those blue eyes. You made your way slowly through the horde of people keeping your eye on the VIP section that the tattooed man occupied. You couldn't see him, so you wandered closer until you were stopped by a husky voice.

"Are you looking for something?" You turned, looking up into the blue eyes you had been searching for.

"Not anymore." You smirked. He was taken aback by your forward response, and you could tell by the look across his face that he was speechless. You chuckled at his expression. "I'm sorry."

"I wasn't expecting you to say that, but I was hoping you would" He laughed. "I'm Colson."

"Y/n."

"Y/n, that's beautiful." He smiled at you. You couldn't tell if it was the champagne coursing through you or the fact that he was extremely handsome, but all you could think about was kissing him. The thought was soon pushed to the back of your mind as you began exchanging information about yourselves. Where you were from, what you were doing in Atlanta, your relationship status'. . .the basics. You two eventually found yourselves halfway through a game of 21 questions in a more private area of the club where you could actually hear each other speak.

"If you could have one 'do over' in your life, what would you do differently?" You inquired.

"Ooh, we're going there now?" He chuckled. "That's easy though, I wouldn't do anything over because then I wouldn't be sitting here with you."

“Smooth.” You chuckled at his cheesy answer.

“Yeah? You see what I did there?” He joked "Ok, my turn. . ." He changed the subject, trying to think of a question quickly. "If there was one piece of advice you could give, what would it be?" You thought for a moment before speaking.

"To always appreciate the little things in life."

"The little things?" he questioned, waiting for you to elaborate further.

"Yeah, you know, like early morning sunrises or late sunsets. The ones where you'll see an array of colors in the sky that you wouldn't normally see." You raved. "Or road trips and motorcycle rides, when you have music in your ears and the wind in your hair. Or the days when you're surrounded by your favorite people, the ones who make you realize that the world isn't such a cold, harsh place." You rambled, and he smiled like a fool.

"The little things that make you realize what life is about and what it means to be alive?" He pondered quietly, contemplating what you had said.

"Yes!" You extolled. "Appreciating the little things makes you enjoy where you are, right now, in the present."

"Enjoy where you are right now," He reiterated. "I like that" A comfortable silence settled in for a moment, and you could hear a catchy synth-pop-R&B beat surging through the room. The voices of Chris Brown and Usher were crystal clear.

"Who said you can't find love in a club? 'Cause I wanna tell them they wrong Come on, just baby, try a new thing And let's spark a new flame."

You both let out a little chuckle at the lyrics, and the next thing you knew, his right hand was on the side of your face pulling you into him. The kiss was magic, chaos, and a little bit of poetry. You felt a fire deep in your bones, and he melted every part of you.

"Hey, Colson!" The barista greeted him, pulling you from your memory of the man standing next to you. You hadn't even noticed, but you two were still staring at each other, and you wondered if the same memory had crossed his mind too.

He turned towards the barista as your eyes continued to explore the coffee shop. That's when you saw it—a mural on the wall situated above black leather dome seats. In large pink letters, "Enjoy where you are right now." and it clicked - this was his coffee shop. . .and he still thought about that night, just like you.

Colson glanced back at you, preparing to order, you smiled at him, and yet again, he could have sworn it illuminated even the darkest corners of the room. You were still authentically you, and the blue-eyed boy was still captivated.

II << 💀 >>

TAG LIST @canyoubuymetoast

[plague-of-nice]

There's a letter on your desk, someone must have delivered it while you were out. You carefully grab the envelope, crossing your fingers it's not bad news of any sort— oh?

It's a letter from Logan.

“Jonah, I cannot wait to see you again; this letter will reach you around the time I get back home, but I just couldn't wait any longer to let you know just how much I'm missing you. I apologize for being away for so long— I've been so busy lately— but that is no excuse.

Everytime we are apart my mind wanders... Have I been a good partner? Am I doing this right? Townsfolk gossip; I hate that. What matters to me the most is: what do you think? You know I may fall short sometimes to express through words, but for you I can definitely try.

Maybe we are not as pompous as other 'fancy' couples in Divinity's Reach, but our love is real, it's tender and palpable and it makes me feel like the luckiest man in Kryta— dammit, in all of Tyria! Every little thing you do, all the care you have for me, it gives me the strength to keep on fighting. I yearn for your affection, your loving words, your beauty... gods...

I love you, Jonah, and I need to you understand I mean it. You're the best thing that has happened to me.”

— Logan Thackeray

She wasn't at all expecting to come home from a brief stroll to anything, much less an unprecedented letter placed on her desk that day. But when it all began to dawn on her, when the voice of the man she terribly missed began to read the words to her... or at least... perhaps in her head, she couldn't help the sudden rush of tears flowing from her face.

Perhaps, in that moment of excitement, Jonah easily forgot the fact that he'd make his return very soon. She had already sat back down on her desk with a quill, glancing down at her handy pile of fresh, clean parchment. Couldn't help old habits, as they say. She began writing a hasty letter with partially shaking hands.

"Logan My darling; perhaps it was fated by the gods for your letter to reach me when it did. When I read your words, it filled my heart with overwhelming joy. It was as if I heard you say them yourself, the comfort if brought me made me feel a loving warmth, much like the cherished embrace of the man I've terribly missed.

It is true we've been apart a while. Is it not a little bit funny to note that to be a constant for us? A duty is a duty, despite it taking us separate directions at times. But always remember this, you always make me proud.

On that note, my pride for is not the only thing worth mentioning. Your unrelenting passion and support never fails to inspire me, to encourage me. You make me feel safe and secure, free and... loved. Very dearly loved.

I may be a wordsmith, but mere letters written in ink could never truly express how much I love you, how much I want to return the feeling to you tenfold. With an embrace and a kiss... Gods, I cannot wait to be close to you once more."

[theheartsmistakes]

Any Other Name: Chapter 2

“Cordelia!” Her mother called up the stairs in a fake, chipper voice that held undercurrents of irritation Cordelia knew had nothing to do with her and everything to do with their company. “Our guests are here. Why don’t you come down and help me set the table for dinner?”

If she took to yelling up the stairs at her rather than walking the staircase or sending her father to come and retrieve her, she must be considerably uncomfortable.

“I’m coming!” said Cordelia so no one could come after her and find her kneeling on the floor over a removed floorboard with a secret letter in her hands.

Quickly, she folded the paper, stuck it back under the floorboard, and pushed the wood plank back into its place before pushing herself to her feet and brushed the dust off of her hands. She grabbed her black cardigan from off the bed and threw it on as she twisted the knob and opened the door and nearly walked right into Augustus Pounceby.

A small shriek escaped her as she fell back against the door frame, cursing in Persian, and clutched her chest.

Augustus smirked. The last time she’d seen him he had an impossibly round face, buck teeth, and a lisp that made it difficult to understand him. They’d been twelve years old at the time, but she didn’t think people could change so much in five years. He’d lost the roundness of his youth, grew several inches, and his teeth were a normal size. His dirty blond hair was cut short at the sides, long on the top, and perfectly coifed with products. He wore a black button-up t-shirt with the buttons done up to his neck, over dark denim jeans, and a pair of black and white trainers.

His smirk turned lascivious as his eyes roved over the length of her body, lingering on the bits her dress left exposed. She fought against the urge to close her cardigan around her.

“Pounceby,” said Cordelia by way of greeting. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude and a bit creepy to lurk outside of someone’s bedroom door?”

“I was sent to fetch you,” he said, glancing over her shoulder into Lucie’s bedroom. “Your mother said that you’d give me a tour. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the infamous London Institute.”

Cordelia unceremoniously closed the bedroom door behind her with a bit more force than necessary. Unfortunately, the movement made her step closer to Augustus. “No one’s ever invited you in before?”

“It wasn’t a matter of being invited,” said Augustus, not moving an inch to provide some space between them. “I wouldn’t have stepped one foot inside of this place with those demon-blooded Herondale’s living here. You can still smell their taint all over this place.”

Cordelia shoved her shoulder into his chest as she moved around him, fighting against the urge to also knee him in the solar plexus while simultaneously breaking his nose with her elbow. Her father probably wouldn’t appreciate her getting Pounceby’s blood all over the floor and he’d most likely make her clean it up, so she decided against bloodshed for tonight and keep things— cordial.

“Allow me to give you a tour then,” said Cordelia pointing to the walls as she walked towards the stairs. "This is the hallway and these are the--" She looked over her shoulder and realized Augustus wasn’t following her.

“What’s down this way?” He asked, nodding towards the other end of the hall.

She hadn’t bothered to wander farther than Lucie’s old bedroom. It felt wrong like she needed an invitation to go farther. There were two more doors at the end. One used to be a study and the other had been James’s bedroom.

She’d only ever been in there once the last time her family came to London for a visit. Lucie had gone on a trip to Paris with her Aunt Cecily, but James stayed home due to some punishment after an incident that happened at the Academy. James never told her and she never asked. Not that she could have, from a young age she was so enamored by James that she often found it difficult to form coherent sentences when she was around him. He was the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen. With his raven black hair, always unruly and curling at all ends like it’d been worked and shaped by the wind and his eyes, like golden flecks of sunlight framed by thick dark lashes. She remembered how they would crinkle at the edges when he smiled, and he always smiled at her.

They spent that entire week reading, wandering around the Institute, pretending to battle each other with the baguettes Tessa brought home for dinner. It'd started as the worst summer of her existence and ended as one she would never forget.

Warmth spread up her neck and into her cheeks at the memory of it. “There’s nothing down there. Come on, they’ll be wanting to eat soon.”

“The men are talking in the old, stuffy drawing room,” said Augustus as he turned on his heel and walked leisurely down the hall. “Come on, Carstairs. It’s your house now, you can do whatever you want in it.”

“I want to go downstairs and help my mum set the table,” said Cordelia, crossing her arms. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Wait just a moment,” drawled Pounceby. “Isn’t this goat eye's old bedroom?”

Cordelia glared. "Who?"

"James."

Cordelia bristled at the rude name he'd given James. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

“My interest is peaked is all.”

“Some infatuation of yours with James, Pounceby?” smirked Cordelia. “I’m sure he’ll be flattered, but somehow I doubt you’re his type.”

Augustus put his hand on the doorknob and tried to turn it but it wouldn’t move. “It’s locked.”

Relief swept through Cordelia. “That’s settled then. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Why is it locked?” Augustus tried the door again. “What’s in there?”

“How am I supposed to know. I did just tell you I haven't been there." Cordelia dragged her feet as she came beside him to try the door herself. It was, in fact, locked. “I’ll tell my father about it at dinner and he can find the key, or something.”

Augustus narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you hiding something in here?”

Cordelia’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“It was no secret you were a Herondale and downworlder sympathizer,” he said with a sneer that once again made Cordelia want to shove his face into the wall. “Is there a reason you don’t want me going in here?”

Cordelia’s empty hands clenched around the fabric of her cardigan to keep from swinging out against her will. “If you want to look stupid for claiming that my father has anything to hide from the Clave by dragging them away from their drinks to come up here and open a door that’s obviously been locked from the inside, only to find that it is as empty as all the rest?” She stepped aside so there was room for him to go around her. “Please, by all means, be my guest. I was really hoping for quality entertainment tonight and to see the look of disappointment on your father’s face will be well worth the wait.”

Augustus held her gaze for just a moment longer before he released his grip on the door and walked past her, whispering the word ‘bitch’ in a volume that was just loud enough for her to hear.

She’d been called worse.

When he was far enough down the hallway, she gave the doorknob another attempt, but just as before it wouldn’t budge.

Curious, she thought and tucked the anomaly away for a later time.

~ ~ ~

“Ah, there she is!” Her father said as Cordelia descended the stairs. Now with the lights all burning in their sconces from the wall, casting shadows from the chandeliers, they gave the Institute back some semblance of the warmth that Cordelia remembered when she would visit. It still felt odd without any Herondale presence; she half expected Will to come bursting through the door in a rage about the city traffic and Tessa to follow behind him with her genuine smile.

But the front door remained closed, much to Cordelia’s dismay, as she slowly sank from the last step.

“Cordelia, you remember Inquisitor Bridgestock?” said her father with a tight smile.

Cordelia looked to the tall man standing before her. He always reminded her of a toad with his round face, bulbous eyes, and thin mouth. He even had a rather large wart at the start of his right eyebrow.

“Well, Elias, what a beauty your daughter has become,” said the Inquisitor, folding his hands in front of himself, not even bothering to shake hers, because why would he? Perhaps he thought her dainty little hands couldn’t withstand his masculine dynamism.

She fought hard not to roll her eyes at her thoughts and plastered a smile across her face. “Oh yes, I remember him well.”

“And our new Consul, Marcus Pounceby?”

Her eyes shifted to the man standing beside the Inquisitor. He did offer her his hand, and when she placed it into his smooth palm, she could not feel a single callous on his fingers or palm. It made her wonder when the last time he trained, or patrolled, or held a weapon for that matter. He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against her knuckles. A European custom and she was in Europe, but it still made her feel uneasy, small. At least, he wasn’t trying to kiss both of her cheeks like the French, which she didn’t mind, it just all depended on the person. Lucie and James’s cousin Anna was privy to that custom and with her, Cordelia didn’t mind it in the least.

“My son wouldn’t stop raving about you when he learned about your arrival,” said the Consul. “He spoke of your bravery, your skill, we are very lucky to have you back in England. He graduated from the Academy with top marks and has shown himself to lead a powerful squadron of Shadowhunters. You should speak to him about going out on raids together. He can show you around town.”

Her eyes flashed to Augustus, standing beside his father, looking rather bumptious. When she didn’t say anything for a good long time, her father nudged her with his elbow. “That would be delightful.”

She’d only used the word delightful possibly twice in her life. It tasted like poison coming out of her mouth, but it did its job. They both looked pleased with her which made it all the more difficult not to vomit on their shiny oxfords.

Only her father, who was attuned to her sarcasm and indifference after being the victim of it for sixteen years, noted the tone of her voice.

“Where is your son?” inquired the Consul.

“He stayed in Tehran to oversee the Institute until the new family moves in,” said her father. “He’ll be joining us just as soon as their settled.”

“Excellent,” said the Inquisitor. “Another student of the academy that succeeded with top marks. We could use him on the streets while this issue with the Downworlders is in effect and in meetings regarding demon and downworlder business. He had some dealing of his own with the Herondale boy, did he not?”

Cordelia looked to her father for an answer. She knew Alastair and James went to the academy at the same time and didn’t necessarily get along. Then some incident happened that resulted in James’ expulsion, but she didn’t know what that had to do with Alastair. He never told her even though she asked him nearly a hundred times.

Elias shifted a step so he stood closer to Cordelia. “Alastair only spoke of how troubled James was.” His eyes flashed to Cordelia. A warning and a plead not to say a word.

“Yes, well, with the filth that runs in that family’s blood it is no wonder he was capable of causing such a disturbance. He shouldn’t have been accepted into the academy in the first place,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock.

Cordelia bit the inside of her lip until she tasted blood.

“Wouldn’t you agree, Elias?” asked Bridgestock.

Elias breathed through his nose and straightened his shoulders. “Of course. Now that we’ve all been reacquainted, why don’t we move this discussion into the dining room. Sona has been slaving away in the kitchen for the better part of our move-in day to make this dinner special. Cordelia, please go help your mother.”

Cordelia gave them a half-hearted curtsy and dipped out of the entryway towards the hall that led to the kitchen. Upon noticing her angelic energy, the lights in the sconces along the walls flickered on with several distinct clinks and filled the space with a subtle glow. Cordelia put her hand on the swinging door that led into the kitchen where her mother, with a large ladle in hand, poured some kind of broth over the sliced pork chops lined neatly on a silver platter.

“I can’t do it,” said Cordelia as soon as the door swung shut again. “They are absolutely incorrigible. They called the Herondale’s filthy.”

Sona set the bowl of broth down on the crowded counter and started to pull the leaves off from a sprig of thyme. “You already knew they felt this way, Cordelia. This should not come as a surprise.”

“Yes, but to hear them say it out loud makes my skin crawl.” She picked up the serving fork and stabbed it into a pork chop. “I can’t even say anything to defend them. I just have to nod my head at all of their slurs. I might as well be stabbing my friends in the back.”

Sona wiped her hands on the cloth hanging over her shoulder as she turned to Cordelia. “Your friends know you, they know your truth, and they would want for you to protect yourself. If the situation was reversed and it was our family that had been banished, what would you want from James and Lucie?” After a moment, when Cordelia didn’t answer, Sona continued, “I knew Tessa well. She was a good friend. I know that if the situation was reversed, I would want Tessa to protect her family.”

“She was a good friend?” Cordelia emphasized the second word without looking at her mother. “Maybe I would want James and Lucie to protect themselves and not be banished like me, but I know I wouldn’t want them to stop seeing me as their friend.”

Sona opened her mouth and sighed. “Cordelia—“

“Let’s just feed the monsters so they can leave.” Cordelia picked up the platter of steaming pork chops and started towards the swinging door, leaving her mother to look as dejected as Cordelia felt.

Once in the dining room, still decorated in Tessa’s elegant taste with gold and white herons flying across the wallpaper with holly in their beaks, Cordelia set the platter of pork onto the center of the mighty oak table. The chandelier hung low with sphere-shaped crystals that cast rainbows across the walls when the light from the large arched window at the west side of the room hit them. The table was set for only six people tonight with Elias at the head closest to the window.

Cordelia had no choice but to sit beside Augustus, as all the other spots had been taken.

Sona followed in after her, free now of her emerald green apron and kitchen towels, carrying a plate of scorched rice and another plate of fresh-herb Kuku-- Cordelia’s favorite. A twinge of guilt went through her as she noticed the plates of comfort food her mother had prepared for no one else, but Cordelia.

“Sorry about the wait, gentlemen,” said Sona as she placed the food on the table. “I hope you’re all hungry and wish to expand your palettes. These are all dishes from Tehran. We thought you might like to experience something from our home.”

Augustus looked at the green pie-shaped dish placed directly in front of him as if it might come to life and attack him.

“It’s called Kuku,” said Cordelia, serving herself a large piece before anyone else. “It’s delicious.”

“It’s green,” said Augustus and looked to his father for help.

Consul Pounceby just laughed. “You didn’t have to go out of your way for us. We would have been happy with fish and chips or a nice shepherds pie.” He forked a piece of pork onto his plate with a small helping of scorched rice.

"What kind of pie?" asked Cordelia with a mouth full of Kuku.

“I thought it might be nice to have something from home for our first night here,” said Sona.

“It’s looks wonderful, darling,” said Elias.

The conversation took a small reprieve as everyone ate their meals. Metal forks clinked against plates and ice rattled around in glassware in the silence. Marcus Pounceby chewed with his mouth open and took a particular fondness to the Kuku, though his son took one bite and then refused to acknowledge it again. Inquisitor Bridgestock proceeded to take a drink of his wine after each bite to clear his throat. Cordelia felt a brief sense of satisfaction at the light sheen of sweat that coated his brow after having a piece of pork.

“We’re not used to such flavors here in England,” said Inquisitor Bridgestock, dabbing his face with his napkin. “It’s quite exotic.”

“I may have gone a bit heavy handed on the peppers,” said Sona as she soaked a piece of her pork in the sauce. “Can I get anyone some water or milk, perhaps?”

Cordelia forced herself not to laugh.

“Milk?” inquired Marcus. “Does that help?”

“It does,” said Sona.

“That won’t be necessary.” Bridgestock patted his distended stomach. “I’m quite finished as is. If I drink a glass of milk you’ll have to roll me out the door or call my wife and have her come drive me home.”

“How is Mary Beth?” asked Sona. “It’s a shame she couldn’t come tonight. I did look forward to seeing her again.”

Another easy lie from her mother. The last time Mary Beth and Sona met, Sona couldn’t stop talking about what a deplorable know-it-all with questionable moral Mary Beth was and how the Bridgestock’s may have not been the best family to adopt the young Ariadne girl. To go from such strong feelings towards the Bridgestock's to inquiring about her as if her absence was missed surprised Cordelia. Her mother’s ability to be so languid never ceased to amaze her.

“She’s well. She simply didn’t want to be present for a bunch of Clave talk.” Bridgestock wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Not when she had a previously schedules game of bridge with some of the other wives. You should go sometime, Sona.”

Her mother’s tight smile was all Cordelia needed to know. She’d been invited to a few bridge games and attended one thinking that at least Tessa would be there and she’d have someone to talk to, but when she got home Sona looked exhausted and explained that all the women at the bridge club did was gossip, smoke, and drink expensive wine. There was not one game of bridge to be played. She then went into a rather hilarious impression of the Inquisitor's wife, with her pinched face and animated hands that may have been slightly exaggerated, but had even Alastair snickering.

“Perhaps when things are a bit more settled,” said Sona and took a long drink from her water glass.

“That reminds me,” said Marcus as he placed his napkin on the table, “we’ve interrupted your move in day. We apologize. We’ll get out of your way just as soon as we finish some business with Elias. Should we retire to the study, gentlemen?”

“Yes,” said Bridgestock as he rose from the table. “There is much to discuss regarding this Downworlder business. We’ll need to brief you on some of the changes we’re making regarding the laws and how we are expecting those on patrol to be our inforcers. We’d appreciate your opinion on a few of these matter before we hold the official Clave meeting in two weeks.”

“Uh, yes,” said Elias as he stood from the table too. “Cordelia, would you mind helping your mother with the dishes and then come and join us—“

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” said the Inquisitor. “Our talk will just bore her. We can explain everything to her at the official meeting with the rest of the Clave.”

Elias’s grip flexed on his dining room chair. “My daughter will be one of those patrolling the streets of your city. I would like for her to be prepared and understand what is expected of her.”

“Kill demons and any downworlders that dares to step out of line,” whispered Augustus under his breath. “Not much else left to understand.”

Demons can take the shape of many things, she thought. Even privileged, annoying boys.

She might be able to plead her case against the Clave if she were to accidentally stab him.

“It will all be explained at the meeting,” continued Bridgestock. “Until then, Cordelia will not be allowed to patrol alone and will instead train with Augustus.”

Cordelia couldn’t stop the pinched look that took over her face. Her mother nudged her underneath the table before anyone could see her.

The men filed out of the dining room, leaving their half-cleared plates of food for Cordelia and Sona to clean up. They piled the dishes and separated the silverware in silence before carting everything back into the kitchen.

Sona turned on the faucet over the deep bucket sink and held her hand under it waiting for the water to warm while Cordelia continued to bring plates in and set them on the small island.

She glanced at the old grandfather clock that stood in the hallway each time she passed it. Only two more hours and she could find Lucie. Finally, there would be someone she could speak freely about all of this to and not constantly be shut down; told to smile, and bear it.

The large hand steadily clicked on, but not fast enough.

Not nearly fast enough.

A/N:

This chapter does include some artistic license. To make it relative to the times, I changed it from James having to stay home from a Paris trip due to being expelled from school rather than being sick with the Scarlet Fever.

I also made up Augustus's appearance. It is not canon. It's just how he looks in my head.

Also I have no clue what Inquisitor Bridgestock's wife's name is so I'm calling her Mary Beth.

Comments and hearts are ALWAYS appreciated!

Next update comes out in two weeks: May 28

[joachimnapoleon]

"One is not a king to obey.”

So as I’ve mentioned on my blog before, there are very few surviving letters from Murat to his wife, mainly because Caroline was in the habit of destroying most of her received correspondence, and Murat rarely kept copies of the letters he sent her. But, I recently picked up Albert Vandal’s book on the Murats’ reign in Naples (covering only the years 1808-1812), and made the happy discovery of the inclusion of the full text of several letters between the two that I haven’t found published elsewhere. One of them is the letter below, which I’ve seen quoted in bits and pieces. 

For brief background/context: this letter is written while Murat is in the middle of his ultimately unsuccessful campaign to take Sicily; Napoleon has been breathing down his neck and interfering in the affairs of Naples lately; their relationship has been a mess for the past year and is steadily getting worse (and in April, in their final meeting/quarrel before Murat left Paris, the Emperor snarled at Murat that he’d have his head); his mortal enemy Savary has recently replaced Fouché so Murat can feel the deck being stacked against him; and Louis Bonaparte has recently been evicted from his throne in Holland after finding himself at odds with Napoleon one time too many. Murat feels his own dethronement rapidly approaching.

This is an eye-opening letter. We have a very fed-up, stressed-out Murat here, ranting at length about how awful Napoleon is treating him, while assuring his wife at the end that he’s going to be good and do what the Emperor wants and he’s fine, everything’s fine, thank you very much. 

Vandal sums it up: Under the appearances of resignation his letter breathes only revolt.

Source: Albert Vandal, Le Roi et la Reine de Naples (1808-1812), pages 47-9.

*** 

[Undated, August 1810]

I will try to respond to your letter of the 3rd, my kind Caroline; you are perfectly right in everything you write to me, and I assure you that you have not thought anything about it which would not have greatly and seriously occupied me, and my system of conduct in accordance with my sentiments have always proven that I saw as you, but, without blinding us, I foresaw differently. But I am wrong, you foresee the same events as I do, but with courage and wise conduct, we must await with resignation and prepare in advance for events that are not in our power to prevent.

The Emperor accuses me of not doing what he wants, of not consulting him. You know the contrary, and I think I can dispense with responding in this regard; I have constantly strived to do his will. The Emperor blames me for what I did for Lucien*, I applaud myself for it and, if I were to do so, despite His Majesty’s defense, I would do it again; I cried for his fate as for that of good Louis.

How could the Emperor take the language he has towards the young Grand Duke of Berg, or at least how could he make it public? That was the most pitiful thing that could come out of his mouth. Louis is dethroned, wandering, sick, and the journals assail him with invectives!... He [the Emperor] thinks he is paying court to the French, he is far from succeeding by showing himself so ungenerous. What a report from Champagny! Holland is ruined for France, by France, and the Emperor has united it to France, and the motive is given her that she can no longer exist independently, because she can no longer pay her debts. This is the height of impudence. Today, he imposes onerous conditions on me, he makes me sign an unjust treaty and recognizes an even more unjust debt; he diminishes my revenues, crushes my commerce, paralyzes my factories, orders me to make a ruinous expedition, asks me for a navy, prevents exports, in short, he makes it impossible for me to bear all this enormous burden he imposes on me. He makes decrees as master, prescribes regulations in Naples as in Paris, and when the moment will have arrived and his policy or his caprice will have counseled him to make me descend from the throne, the Duke of Cadore will make another pompous report on the King of Naples, like he did on that of Holland.

There it is, there it is, my friend, what I will force myself to avoid out of love for you, for my poor children, but what will happen, if the Emperor continues to indulge in his false politics and always listens to the perfidious counsel of Savary [names rendered illegible] etc. You know it, you know the depths of my mind. Who loved the Emperor more, who served him better, and yet without cause he threatened to take off my head, and since, despite all that I have been able to write him, despite my sacrifices, despite everything I do here, he has not responded to me a single time, he remains silent and makes his will known to me by his ministers, sends me medals by his grand chamberlain and lessons by the Monitor. You know that all of this did nothing to me when I was sure of his heart. He sought, for example, to excuse the mission of Clarke’s aide-de-camp to Naples with the defense that the crossing be attempted with at least 15,000 men, but this order has not been revoked, it still exists; but his minister wrote to mine that the Emperor had deprived me of command of the army, he wrote it to the chief of staff, he wrote it to Marshal Perignon; would he have done so, if he had not wanted to bring me into disrepute, would he not have been content with writing it to me or having it written to me, if he had had his old feelings for me? What need did he have to make my subordinates know such hostile intentions? Finally, what is the King of Spain doing for him? Did he not guarantee him the totality of his kingdom; did he not guarantee it to the Spaniards? By what right are new troops sent to Westphalia? By what right does he want to introduce French goods to Naples for nothing and to tax those from Naples that are imported to France? I understand the reason for it, it is that of the strongest, if not that of the most just. I understand that he must be the master of wanting us to march in his system and that we must consult him for political or important measures that we have to take; he must be our Mentor and not our master; one is not a king to obey. Then, how could he tell the people that he had entrusted to the princes of his family that these princes must occupy themselves with the interests of the French before occupying themselves with those of their people? In truth, one cannot conceive of the motives or the purpose of such a maxim.

My dear Caroline, I would not finish if I wanted to find wrongs, but this would not achieve anything. Let us take patience, let us conduct ourselves in such a way as never to have any justified wrong and wait with resignation what it will please Providence to decide for our destiny. I am decided to do everything the Emperor wants and will want, and when I can no longer bear the burden, I will beg him to take charge of it. So, be without worry, I am by no means affected, I am calm, and it is only on him and for him, I say, that I may have fears, if he does not change the system.

--Joachim Murat

***

*The reference to Lucien Bonaparte is in regard to Murat sending a vessel to help Lucien escape from Italy and go to the United States; the vessel was captured by the English and Lucien sent to England. Murat had granted Lucien the ship without Napoleon’s knowledge or permission, and Napoleon was furious about the affair.

[writearctic]

Ask Me Again - oneshot

⚤︎ badboy!felix and fem!reader

✔︎ fluff, hints of angst, semi suggestive

⌨︎ 4.9k

monnie's @ "To Your Heart"

hello! this is our first book of The Pasta Chronicles! i'm so glad @monscastle was able to collab with me; also shoutout to monnie for the lovely banner~ ♡

“Go out with me.”

Lee Felix, the campus bad boy, asked you out. Again. It was a weekly occurrence: him asking you; you saying no as politely as possible.

He never stuttered his words. Not the first time and certainly not today. “Go out with me, y/n. Please.”

It sounded like a plea for you. But his voice never wavered. It kept you in reality that he was a player, and you were an ideal student. Not the best but better than him.

“Felix, I’m sorry. I can’t. Not with exams coming up,” you replied with a soft smile while stepping past the boy. You were lucky to find a real enough excuse. He dug his heels into the cement path and followed you-- an action you couldn’t fail to notice.

“Gosh, he’s a real stickler, huh?” Your roommate, Lea, quietly reminded you.

“After exams, y/n.” Felix sped up to stand in front of you, stopping your pace altogether. “I’ll wait ‘til exams are over.” He leaned forward and pecked the sweetest, gentlest kiss on your temple. He smirked at your blushed reaction before skipping back to his crowd.

“Well, I guess he won’t bother you for a bit.” Lea started walking again.

You bit your lip, mind still focused on how warm, how sweet, his lips felt on your skin. It made your heartbeat quicken; the thought of his lips on yours sent a nice, tingly flow throughout your body.

“Y/n.”

‘H-huh?” Lea snapped you out of your daydream.

“He won’t bother you for a bit.” She hooked her arm with yours and happily continued to your next lecture. “Now, you can put 110% into your grades.”

“I’m glad,” you faked a smile. Lea endlessly went on about her thesis book. Her words served as white noise to you though.

Honestly, you liked Felix. There was no doubt about it. He was courteous towards his professors. It was rare for him to turn in an assignment, but he was studious in class and never interrupted the professors or classmates.

He was kind and respectful, despite his liaisons with countless ladies on campus. When they came and begged to date him, he was thoughtful with his words. He never said no, but he never said yes. A handful of guys would ask him out as well, but Felix stuck to his words. He had a rule. No getting together, no relationships. No romance. Just a quick fuck. And everyone knew this. “Having strings ties you down. And I don’t see myself tied with you,” he had said, in the lightest way possible.

You haven’t slept with him, yet you knew he held a fragile piece of your heart. He was your fantasy. A dream. Nothing more. But it never hurts to dream.

Your mind stopped wandering when Lea opened the lecture hall door. As you entered, you were met with hateful glares from the students.

“Y/n. Lea. I saved you a seat.” Jackson’s deep voice startled you. Lea shuffled the pair of you through the isle and to the row Jackson was sitting in.

“Gosh, what the heck was that for? Is there something on my face, y/n?” Lea worried.

“No, Lea. You look beautiful as ever.”

She beamed back at you.

“Look.” Jackson held up his phone, allowing Lea and you to watch an Instagram story. It was you. Specifically, Felix kissing your temple.

Lea sighed. Someone had filmed the “intimate” moment you had with Felix. You read the words at the bottom of the post: ‘Another whore for Lix?’

You deserved this. It was karma coming to get you for the thoughts you had of the boy. You mindlessly reached your fingertips to where he kissed your skin. Why was he even attracted to you? Were you a dare? A dare for him to get in your pants? You had your dignity, but you thought this boy was melting it away piece by piece.

You returned to your shared rental with Lea after class ended. At the apartment desk, the security guard stopped you. “Miss Y/n. A boy left this parcel for you.” He grumbled and handed you the gift.

You thanked him kindly and proceeded up the stairs.

“Open it.” Lea crossed her arms and demanded after removing her shoes and coat.

You walked to the kitchen and cut the package with a pair of scissors. You dug into it and found a bag of homemade cake pops.

“I’ll take one thank youuu,” Lea joked while tearing the plastic bag of goodies from your hands. You giggled, a way of granting her permission as you watched her slump on the couch. You stepped to discard the package when a note card fell to the ground reading: ‘I’m sorry, y/n. If I had known they were filming us, I would have kissed you on those rosebud lips of yours to let everyone know you’re mine.’

You released a voiceless whimper. Felix was surely playing you, but he made you feel special and desired none the less.

You quickly picked up the note and hid it in your back pocket.

It's been almost two weeks since Felix last asked you out. You had seen him around campus and longingly stared at him in hopes he would look at you. The few times your eyes caught his, Felix blushed and turned away. Now that he was respecting your boundaries, you didn’t want him to ignore you.

The sneers and occasional trash talks you received since the video of Felix’s delicate kiss to your head didn’t get under your skin. The few times they would, you couldn’t think much of them; you had more important matters to ponder about. You chewed on the painful distance between you and Felix habitually.

Studying wasn’t worth it. Your mind always trailed back to him. You wondered how he was. You hoped he was fairing better than you with his studies. You couldn’t help but miss his tranquil presence. Even if he was desperate for you, Felix had a calming aura that aroused you in the most loving way.

Aside from studying, you couldn’t get much sleep at night. Felix was awaking you every time you tried to clear your mind. He had engulfed and overpowered you into a longing for him.

You sat down in your class with a huff.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Jackson teased playfully.

Upon seeing your lifeless form, Lea hummed. “I think it’s ‘cause she slept in.”

You folded your arms on the desk and threw your head down. “I’m not going to do well on this,” you muttered.

Jackson and Lea exchanged looks. “Y/n, you studied-”

“Not really,” you admit to them. “My mind’s been… elsewhere.”

“Wha- why?” Jackson asked. “Is it Felix? You said he was leaving you alone, right? He’s not bothering you is he? I swear I’ll punch that hopeless romantic in the gut if you fail your exams.”

“Please don’t.” Your friends recognized the pitch in your voice; you were crying now.

Lea leaned towards the table and softly spoke. “Y/n, what happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” You shot up from hiding your face in your arms. Your puffy eyes were no stranger to the classmates around you as it was finals season. Lots of tears had fallen from multiple peers in the past week. Thankfully, they paid no mind to your tear-stained face and brushed it off as the stress that came with final exams.

“He’s doing things to my heart, and I can’t explain how hopeful I am that he’s not toying with me.” You reached for your pencil case and pulled out the letter Felix had written a few weeks earlier.

“Oh.” Lea’s reaction mirrored Jackson, whose mouth circled like an ‘o.’ They already suspected your feelings for him long before you had received the note.

“So, do I beat him to a pulp or…” Jackson joked, hoping to make you smile. But his efforts only resulted in his ribs getting elbow jabbed by Lea.

“I don’t know what to do.” Your voice was pulsing with desperate hope from your friends.

“Tell him ‘yes.’ Y/n, next time he asks you, and I’m sure there will be a next time, say ‘yes.’” Lea soothed your anxious mind with the natural honey in her tone. “The only thing you have to lose is your chance with your dream guy.” She winked and turned her gaze to the podium where the professor was introducing the exam.

Her words echoed in your mind. What did you have to lose other than Felix? Your dignity? No. If Felix is the right guy for you, he would strengthen your worth rather than hinder it. As you opened your laptop to the class page, you crossed your fingers, wishing Felix would ask you just once more.

Two days have passed since your last exam. Lea scored higher than you on your overall average. It made sense, and you easily accepted it. You spent hours of mindlessly studying the textbook while Lea actually studied. The two of you, along with Jackson, celebrated the success of your roommate with drinks.

“So,” Jackson began after the clink of your shots. “Has he asked you out yet?”

“No,” you frowned.

“Hey! I thought tonight was about me!” Lea laughed, trying to lift the mood so thick, you could cut it with the wimpy, plastic knives from your college cafeteria.

Jackson had only downed a shot or two; thus, he still was fully aware of his surroundings. So when he saw Felix stride through the local campus bar, he pinched Lea’s shoulder.

“Yah! What do you nee-” Jackson shushed her and guided her face towards Felix’s figure. They turned their attention back to the dim-lit table and met your curious gaze.

Jackson winked. “Don’t worry, y/n. He’ll come for you.” Both he and Lea stood up and walked to the bar for another round of drinks.

You stood up with your brow furrowed, but before you could follow them, you spotted Felix. He looked stunning in his ripped, leather pants and neatly combed hair. The green neon lights above fell on his sculpted face in the most angelic way. You admired him for a while until he moved to dance with a girl. 'With that skin tight dress of hers, how could he fight the urge to grind on her thin hips?' You thought, wishing you had worn something more than a long sleeved crop top and black jeans. Your gaze fell to the floor; you wore your ballet flats. They weren’t the most attractive, but at least they didn’t blister your feet.

You sighed and went after your friends. It had been 2 minutes at most, but you found Lea shamelessly twerking on a peer from her bio class and saw Jackson, long past sober, swiveling on a bar stool and mindlessly ranting to the man next to him about asparagus. The sex driven Lea and rhetorical thinker Jackson had made way out of hibernation. They were drunk.

You hustled to pay for your drinks and exited the crowd. It was cold outside, and you fell victim to the chill in your thin shirt. You didn’t want to flag down a taxi or call an Uber; at this time of night, riding alone with a stranger was not a pill you could swallow. Leaning against the building, you pulled open your contacts. Maybe your landlord would give you a ride home? Before your finger hit the call button, Felix called your name.

Waiting for exams to pass without hearing your voice or seeing your tender eyes up close was absolute hell for Felix. On occasion, he caught you looking at him. But as quickly as he saw you, you bashfully turned away. He kept his word and left you to your studies. Felix knew you cared about your education, and he was the last person who wanted to be in your way. So, he backed off at your excuse of exams.

After the last week of tests, final averages were posted near admissions. Felix eagerly raced to see how well you did. He knew by allowing you the space you needed to ace exams would easily grant you a high grade. But your name wasn’t in the top 100 list. He checked it once, twice, thrice before turning to the longer list of all student results.

Felix’s eyes were glued on the page; he memorized each printed name as he glossed over them looking for yours. When he found it, his head fell from his defeated shoulders. You didn’t do well. In fact, you did better last semester when he had bugged you to go out with him.

Something was wrong, yet he couldn’t understand.

Until he realized, you must’ve been tormented by his flock of admirers. He came to the conclusion that he would permanently give you space; the last thing he wanted was to bring pain to the girl he truly likes.

Felix tried avoiding you by taking different routes to class. If he did see you, he felt guilty and wished there was a way to protect you from the world.

He couldn’t keep you from gracefully invading his mind. Jisung, another playboy at campus, suggested “getting drunk or having sex with another bitch to remove that chick” from his mind. Felix’s nostrils flared when Jisung referred to you as a “chick” when you deserved much more than such a lowlife name. He nearly immobilized Jisung had his friends not stepped in and prevented Felix from further harming the boy.

Directly after throwing punches to his friend, he felt horrible. Felix sprinted away from his peer; it was ironic how he found himself in the campus bar. He downed no more than three shots. He didn’t want to forget you. Yet, his carnal instincts kicked in when Belle approached him.

She wore a mahogany, sheath dress that did wonders for his dry spell. Felix hadn’t been sleeping with anyone since he promised to ask you out after exams. He believed he needed to be faithful and better in order to make you his.

As she began to shake her rear against him, he placed his hands on Belle’s hips. 'Too skinny,' he thought. He would’ve preferred you.

It was like a higher being heard his plea because he saw you seated with your friends. The dim lighting made you look like a fever dream. He longed for you to be his. When he turned back to catch a look at you again, you were gone.

“E-excuse me,” Felix removed Belle’s body from his, but she clung to him like velcro.

She flicked her false lashes at him and grinned. “My place or yours?”

“I need to go.” He pushed her off a little more aggressively than he should and left without another word.

He found you outside, leaning against the club. Alone.

“Y/n!”

A wave of heat flashed through your body when your name fell from his tongue. You eagerly turned to him. Felix ran the short distance between you before urgently pressing his lips on yours.

The kiss was patient, yet you both could sense a deeper passion. Felix pulled your cold body against his and tightened his arms around your waist. Your fingers ruffled the bit of hair that touched the nape of his neck. He pulled his lips away; you quickly whined in protest, but Felix didn’t let you go.

He burrowed his face into your shoulder. You leaned to kiss his head, and he began whispering soft words against your skin causing you to shiver, this time, not from the cold temperature.

“Felix,” you whispered. “I- I can’t understand you.” You giggled breathlessly at him when his face moved back to yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? Felix, are you ok?”

“I- fuck. I love you, y/n. And I’m aware that we hardly know each other, but please. I want to learn every precious detail about you. Tell me your favorite way to pass the time on a rainy day. Tell me who taught you how to braid because gosh, when your hair is braided to the side, you make me want to rip out any gawking eyes that look at you. In fact, I won’t hesitate-”

“Felix.” Your voice was quiet. It was his first time hearing you so vulnerable, and it made him want to kiss every part of you. You deserved to be showered with kisses on a daily basis. But he traced his fingertips along the sleeves of your crop top and passionately listened to you.

“Ask me again.”

He smiled and raised a brow, puzzled. “Ask you what?”

You stared at him and fought the urge to kiss the small dimples on his face. You hadn’t noticed them before.

“Will you go out with me, Felix?”

“Fuck. No.” He cursed under his breath. His eyes turned to you when he felt you crumble in his hold. “Wait, shit. No, that’s not what I meant.”

You stepped back with tears brimming your radiant eyes, and it made Felix want to pull you back against him and never, never let you go.

“I wanted to ask you out!”

“You’re mad at me for asking you out!?”

“Yes!”

“Lee Felix, will you ask me out?”

“Y/n, please go out with me!?”

“Goodness yes.” You breathlessly whispered with no hesitation in your voice. He wasted not a second more before pulling you into his arms again. You tightly gripped his shirt; a few tears fell from your lashes. Felix felt them and released you from his embrace. He raised his hands and carefully wiped away every tear. He saw your lip quiver and observed how cold you were.

“Let me drive you home,” he quavered. Felix’s hand was warm in yours; his pinky tangled with yours as he led you to his car.

He knew where your place was. There weren’t many words spoken on the way to your apartment. Both of you were embarrassed and unsure about what to do next.

As he pulled to the building, he shifted to park and turned to you. “I want to take you out tomorrow.”

“I’d like that,” your voice was sunny. You inched closer to him and kissed his lips once more. It was quick, but it was everything you needed to know he was yours. “Good night, Felix.” You stepped out of the car and trudged to the apartment gate.

“Y/n!” Felix stood on the drivers side and yelled. “I need your number!”

You stopped punching the code for the gate to open. “Pick me up here tomorrow at six, and I’ll give it to you!” You playfully hollered back.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered, watching your figure walk through the gates.

“Oh. Em. Gee. Wow! I’m so glad you got him, y/n!” Lea cheered when she finally had some conscience. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, uhm, I’m not sure.” You realized the issue. Not having his number made choosing the perfect outfit harder. 'Shouldn’t have played hard to get,' you thought.

“Knowing him,” Lea stepped for your closet. “He’ll probably take you somewhere nice. Like a concert, fancy restaurant, or art exhibit. Since he’s head over heels in love with you.” She pulled a black velvet dress off its hanger and handed it to you. “Oh! Here.” She tossed you some sheer, black tights as well.

“I hope you’re right,” you giggled and went to change.

Lea adored the gown and begged to straighten your hair; she thought it looked best with your outfit. Once straight, she tied your hair into a low ponytail. She picked some dangly earrings for you to wear in addition to a silver bracelet. You felt like an actress being prepped for a scene. Lea was definitely the stylist between the two of you.

Your roommate stood by the window as it was nearing 6:00. You sat nervously on the couch, praying your outfit was right.

“He’s here.”

With a shaky sigh, you slipped on your shoes and went to the door. “Wish me luck.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, y/n. You’ve made an impression of Felix, one so strong he’s stopped sleeping around.” She walked over to straighten the collar of your coat before continuing. “Plus, if anything does happen-- but I highly doubt he’ll be a jerk to you-- remember, Jackson’s offer to beat him up still stands.”

You giggled in unison before hugging her and heading past the threshold.

What a sight you were. As you stepped out the apartment gates, his breath hitched. You bloomed in the evening fog. He hustled to the passenger door and eagerly opened it for you.

You paused before getting in. “Does my outfit fit the occasion?” You asked nervously.

“Yes; it’s perfect.” He charmed.

Felix drove away. His car was warm, and it calmed your nerves. You kept stealing glances at his profile, noticing the kisses of the sun on his cheeks and nose. His lips were highly alluring and since last night, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

The ride was quiet. Felix played some soft r&b music in the background. At every traffic light, he turned to you and took your hand in his. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of your hand; his eyes remained locked with yours, causing you to buzz with delight.

“We’re here.”

He shifted to park before stepping to your side and opening the door. You stood on the curb and admired the restaurant while Felix paid the parking meter. Dilettante was one of the finest restaurants in town. You had never been; it was far too expensive. The thought puddled in your stomach. Felix brought you to a highly exquisite restaurant on the first date.

“Felix.”

He hummed. Finished with the meter, he latched your arm with his and strolled to the building. “Yes?”

“This is expensive. Are you sure we should eat here? We can always go to Olive Garden or-”

“Y/n.” Felix paused and slipped his hand in yours. “This is the only place you deserve for a first date.”

Your cheeks darkened at his comment when he started up to the door. “Mia, your finest table please," he winked. The receptionist led you to a candle lit corner booth. She placed the menus on the surface: “Your server will be here shortly.” Mia return the wink and strolled back to the front.

Felix obviously knew the girl. You removed your oatmeal coat and sat down. Felix sat across from you. You leaned in and whispered, “Have you slept with her?”

He laughed. He laughed at you. You chuckled nervously, unsure of why you were laughing. “Mia’s my cousin.”

Shoot.

“Your cousin?”

“Hmm,” he glanced down and played with his wrist watch. “My family owns this restaurant.” You were not expecting that. “We get to eat here for free-”

“So, I’m a free meal?”

“What? No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” His head snapped up when you spoke. His hands reached across the table and held to yours. “I’ve actually never brought a girl here.” He mumbled while his thumb caressed your skin.

“I wasn’t even expecting the meal to be free-- I mean, I was expecting a discount, but I think my family is excited for me to finally stop sleeping around and bring someone here.”

You nodded in understanding. Your hands played with his. “Felix, you said you didn’t want to be tied down…”

“That was before I met you.” That smile of his could light up the entire restaurant.

You didn’t get to respond right away; a server came and took your drink order. He placed a basket of fresh bread on the surface and slid a platter of sweet butter alongside. You both ordered water and the server returned quickly with your drinks in hand.

“Have you decided on something to order?”

“Gosh, you’ve hardly given us time to decide, Kang.” Felix sneered and rolled his eyes.

“Right, yes. Of course. Sorry, sir.” The boy, around your age if not younger, fearfully backed away. Felix hung his head in shame when the server scurried away.

You held his hands in your; you stopped playing with them and held them still. “Lix-”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t have snapped at him.” He raised his gaze to yours. He shuffled closer to you-- the booth made it easy for him to melt at your side so quickly-- and linked his fingers in yours once more. He tucked a wisp of hair behind your ear and kissed your neck. “I just want tonight to be perfect,” Felix breathed into your skin before sitting upright again.

You didn’t know what to say. He kept leaving you breathless; you could hear your heart pounding louder now that he was closer to you. And when his palm slid to your thigh in a non-sensual way, you prayed he wouldn’t hear how harshly your heart pounded against your rib cage.

"This isn't the best table here," he commented upon seeing your flustered state.

"We don't need to move tables. This is fine," you assured.

"I made sure Mia reserved this table. It wasn't hard; no likes sitting in the back corner anyways. But I like it here. I can kiss you without any bothersome stares."

Felix reached for a piece of bread and spread some butter on it before passing it to you. 'What a gentlemen,' you reminded yourself for the nth time this evening.

You took a sip of water after finishing the dough and spoke, “What’s the best meal here?”

“The alfredo.” He didn’t hesitate at all, and he reached for the menu to show you the different options. “My favorite is the regular chicken, but they're all decent.”

“I’ll have a chicken fettuccine alfredo then,” you giggled and swiped a hair out of his eye.

The things you did to him caused red to tickle his cheeks.

A different waiter came back and took your order. Felix explained the kid who previously served you was a distant, younger cousin and that they weren’t on the best of terms. You didn’t pry.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

Felix bit his lip gently before continuing, “What happened to your finals?”

“Oh, that.” You laughed deeply.

“Were there more posts like the one on Instagram or have people been bothering you?”

“No. Well, only you.” You smiled, and when you saw his clueless face, you added: “I couldn’t really study because I kept thinking of you.”

“I’m glad it was because of me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if students had been hurting you,” he admitted and leaned a little closer to your warmth, blushing.

He watched as you tried to refold the cloth napkin into its original swan origami. And when he took his and instantly folded it back, an engaging conversation about origami fortune tellers and puppets took place. Apparently, Felix was in his 5th grade talent show with a few of his buddies. They put on a Star Wars puppet show made with construction paper. The talent show gave no winners, but Felix was certain they would’ve won.

“Who would’ve known you, the mysterious campus bad boy, was into arts and crafts,” you giggled delicately at him.

“Am I still a bad boy in your eyes?”

“No!” Your response was swifter than intended. “Sorry that was a poor choice of words. You were the campus bad boy, but now you’re all mine.” You pressed against his torso and kissed his lips.

“You changed me, y/n.” Felix began and paused his words when the plates of pasta arrived. “I found myself desperate for you. So desperate. I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but you. I stopped jumping from bed to bed a while ago; I hoped it would prove myself to you. Because y/n, I want to be tied down with you for the rest of my life.”

It occurred to him that you hadn’t stopped looking at him since he began speaking. You hadn’t even touched your plate yet.

“Stop staring at me,” he blushed.

You moved your eyes to the cuisine and twirled the pasta. “I’m so in love with you I don’t think that’s possible.”

Felix’s fork clinked onto the ceramic plate. He faced you and met your gaze.

“Wait, was that too soon? I didn’t mean to offend-”

You couldn’t finish your apology with his breath dangerously close to your lips. “I love you, too.”

His lips were creamy and warm when they pressed into yours; they tasted like alfredo sauce. His pinky maneuvered its way to lock with yours while the other hand pulled you deeper into the kiss. He moved away after ensuring your pinky finger was connected with his.

Felix admired how dazed you looked after just one kiss. He didn’t notice it last night, but then again, that was the first kiss you had shared together. You opened your doe eyes at him, and he smirked.

“I’ll kiss you later. Eat your food.” He bent over his plate and continued to eat. You did the same. “How does it taste?” Felix asked, confident it would meet your expectations.

“It’s delicious,” you faced to him and smiled. Your pinky gave his a loving squeeze. “But…”

His eyes widened slightly. “But…?”

“The sauce tasted better on your lips.”

You pivoted back to your dish; you tucked that stray hair back behind your ear and bit your lips.

Felix looked down at his plate and pierced his lips together as he grinned. “You really are perfect,” he breathed, before twirling another spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

“Do you know how to make this?” You confidently inquired.

“I do,” he hummed.

“This is the best fettuccine alfredo I’ve ever had, and having a boyfriend who can make it-- you’re truly the love of my life.” Although you said it in a teasing way, you meant it, and Felix knew you meant it.

Despite not knowing each other for long, being in his presence made you feel loved and safe. And Felix vowed to do just that.

[dreaminae]

We All Neee The One Friend

Chapter 6

"I got all the fun we need for this weekend right here." J.J excitedly announced, showing off his portable fun box.

The guys rolled their eyes playfully, but J.J was completely serious.

"We know your kind of fun, Jay." Jordan chuckled, about to let J.J down. "And not to burst your bubble, man, but I don't think we came down here for that kind of fun."

"Maybe later." Asher agreed. "Spencer needs help going through the stuff inside."

Pouting, J.J groaned desiring to start the party. "Fine, but afterward we are going have some fun. Especially, Spence."

The boys headed inside while the girls took a stroll around the wooded area surrounding the cabin.

"I really shouldn't be out here, you guys. I'm super behind on my college apps." Simon sulked, walking beside Layla and Olivia.

"You need to loosen up, alright." Layla encouraged, knowing how overwhelmed her friend was these last few days.

"That's easy for you to say. You've probably finished all of yours." Simone moaned, angered by her lack of priorities.

"Yeah, but I haven't had as much going on as you either," Layla recalled Simone's last few months. "From being pregnant, to dealing

with giving up your baby, I'd say you have a good excuse."

"At least, tell me you are in the same boat." Simone plead with Olivia who gave her a sad smile in response.

"Sorry," Liv mumbled, "I didn't have a lot going on over summer break. Starting my college apps was a time filler for me."

"Ugh, let's talk about something else. Both of you are making me feel like an underachiever." Simone groaned, fed up with herself.

"Good idea." Liv and Layla agreed, attempting to lift the strain off Simone.

Simone's eyes fell to the sight of Vanessa helping Asher collect wood for the small bonfire they planned for tonight. "Aye, I've noticed that Vanessa and Asher -"

Layla coughed roughly in the middle of Simone's statement to keep from an awkward conversation. Shaking her head she signaled for Simone not to go there.

"What? What am I missing?" Simone asked, glancing between the other two girls as they each other knowing expressions.

"It's fine, Layla." Liv dryly stated, finding it pointless to hide Asher's summer secret.

"What's fine?" Simone asked.

"So it turns out that Asher and Vanessa met each other in Mexico during summer." Liv revealed to Simone.

"Woah." Simone gasped.

"Not, Woah." Olivia sighed. "He didn't cheat on me with her. They just formed a close bond, like... I don't even know." Liv dragged out, unsure what went on between Asher and Vanessa.

"Cheating or not. If you ask me, she shouldn't be hanging around like she doing." Simone spat. "It's disrespectful towards you."

"I don't even care." Olivia shrugged off the recollection of Asher's summer fling. "Asher says nothing happened, so I am not going overthink it."

"I am not sure whether to applaud your trust in your man or to be concerned that you're not more apprehensive," Simone observed Liv's disinterest.

Thinking hard of what Simone stated, Layla began to wonder if Liv might have a secret of her own.

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

"Don't tell me you guys mixed up the piles." Spencer moaned frustrated by the thought of having ro redo all of the organizing the keepsakes from the junk.

"I didn't even know there were two different piles." J.J revealed, his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.

"Guess we're restarting." Jordan pouted.

"Do we have a chance?" Asher huffed, wondering how the four of them got their wires crossed during the organizing.

"Alright, so is this junk or keepsake?" J.J inquired, shaking around a small dusty box. "Something is in here."

"Let me see that." Spencer insisted before J.J might accidentally spill the containments out.

"What's in there, Spence?" Jordan questioned, curious to know what secret treasures Corey might be left behind.

"Letters," Spencer responded with convection of surprise. "Addressed to me and Dillion." He added, looking through the stack of sealed letters dated after his Pops first left years ago.

Their conversation was cut short by Vanessa's cry for assistance with the grill.

"Here I come, boo." J.J chuckled, goofily skipping from the room to help his date.

"No way, am I leaving the grill to those two." Asher moaned, following right after J.J to ensure they didn't burn the place down.

"Like you're any better than the two of them." Jordan chuckled, ready to follow suit. Halting in his steps, he spun around to check on the person that was supposed to matter at the moment.

"Hey, Spence, you good?" Jordan inquired, noticing that Spencer's focus centered on the unread letters.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, don't worry about me." Spencer assured his close friend. "Make sure they don't burn my Pops' place down." He laughed to cover up his anxiety.

Sensing that Spencer needed a moment alone with his thoughts, Jordan conceded, leaving him isolated.

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

Somewhere between failing to start

the grill for dinner, and debating on games to play, the crew found themselves in a war of water guns.

However, Layla's fun ended at the sight of her boyfriend through a nearby window. Seated in the love seat, Spencer remained alone, contemplating what to do with his Pops' letters. Engrossed within his mind, he failed to notice Layla's presence.

"Are you alright?" Layla asked, wanting Spencer to feel comfortable confiding in her about the things racking his brain.

"Turns out my Pops wrote me and Dillion while he was away." Spencer chuckled emotionless. "He wrote a letter to me and Dillion on every birthday that he missed after he left. But he never sent a single one."

"Did you read any of them?" Layla asked, sitting on the arm of the love seat to be near Spencer.

"I'm not sure if I should," Spencer admitted. "There are so many questions I wished he was here to answer. His letters could hold some of the explanations, but it's possible they won't." He explained in a quick rant.

Trying to relate to Spencer's situation, Layla thought back to when she finally allowed herself to go through her late's mother's belongings.

"I know it's not the same, but I remember the repercussions of going through my mom's song lyrics." Layla detailed from last year's events. "I thought the lyrics might help me to understand what she might have been going through before she died." She sighed sadly. "Truth is, reading those lyrics left me with more questions than answers."

Spencer nodded, comprehending where she was coming from.

"I can't tell you what Corey was thinking when he wrote these letters," Layla conceded, knowing that fact was beyond anyone's ability. "But maybe there is a good reason why he never sent the letters. Maybe he didn't want to leave you and your brother with more questions, than answers."

"So you don't think I should read them," Spencer concluded from his girlfriend's comparison.

"That's your choice." Layla asserted. "But, hey, it's not a choice you need to make right now." She implied, suggesting he take a break from his inner thoughts to have some fun. "C'mon."

Grabbing his hand, she leads Spencer away from the letters and his conflicts, dragging him outside to join in the fun.

The game of water wars continued for another half an hour before everyone drifted to their activities. While everyone helped out in the kitchen, preparing a good grilled meal, Spencer couldn't let go of his intrigue.

In the end, his curiosity won, forcing Spencer to commence reading the letters. Starting from a more recent year, Spencer delved into a letter that documented his father's spiteful side. Inside the letter, Corey revealed his reason for leaving was because of the one-time affair between Coach Baker and Spencer's mom.

Hatred garnished each sentence as Corey vented about his rough history with his former best friend and wife. Stunned by the harsh torment of his father's words, Spencer released a sigh of relief once he reached the closing sentence of the letter. Advising his son to beware of those closest to him, Corey precisely conveyed his perception of treachery in his final statement.

Stopping in his steps on the path through the wooded area, Spencer folded the letter closed, unsure if he should read another one. His confliction attracted him to a region of serenity.

Reaching the lakeside where he bonded with his late father over a traditional pastime of fishing, Spencer sat in a lawn chair watching the marine life as his mind wandered into deep reflection.

From afar, Olivia observed Spencer's anxious mannerisms. Noting how his hands clenched to a rusted box, that she assumed contained the letters from his late father. Only knowing what Jordan disclosed to her earlier about their findings, Olivia summed up that Spencer might need a listening ear.

Although they were in a strange place, Liv refused to turn away when Spencer needed her. Like an unspoken vow between the two of them, Liv wanted Spencer to understand that --- no matters what problems they carried-- he was never alone.

Following the motions of so many summer nights that they shared, Olivia made her way over to Spencer ready to help with whatever he required.

"Damn, you showed those letters who's boss." Liv joked, approaching Spencer as he tossed the box down on the boardwalk.

Cracking a small smirk, Spencer played along. "Someone had to."

Sitting down in the empty chair next to Spencer's seat, Liv inhaled a breath of the fresh, outdoor air. Following her actions, Spencer sniffed the tranquil atmosphere.

"We can talk about it," Liv spoke lightly, breaking their silence. "Or not talk about it." She added, knowing somethings people needed to figure out for themselves. "Whatever you need."

Spencer nodded, glad to have her at his side for either. "I hoped reading these letters would ah.." He sighed, trying to piece together an explanation. "I don't know. I hoped they'd be like a....ah.."

"A gift." Liv finished for him.

"Exactly." Spencer agreed, surprised that she took the right word choice out of his mouth. "But my Pops was so angry. He blamed my moms for everything, even for the choices he made." He explained, disappointment coating his tone. "And I ah, I don't want to remember him like that." Spencer decided, striving to keep the happy memories of his father, rather than recalling Corey's cold side.

From a few feet away, Asher watched the interaction between his girlfriend and Spencer by the lake, while he grilled on the porch deck. Carrying a plate of cobbed corn, Layla accompanied Asher around the grill.

She hadn't noticed his stressed expression as he observed Liv and Spencer from afar. "They seem closer than ever."

Layla's brows furrowed, confused by whom he referred to. Following the line of his sight, her vision landed on her on the scenery of her boyfriend in a deep conversation with her best friend.

The smile that she expressed when she first arrived outside inadvertently faded. Despite her best efforts of attempting to ignore the new intimacy between Spencer and Liv, Layla continually felt envious of their cozy friendship.

"Have you wondered just how much did we miss being gone this summer?" Asher inquired, his eyes pulling from the scene by the lake to analyze Layla's cold exterior.

Feeling that she wasn't ready to answer his question, Asher spared one last glance to Liv and Spencer before striding inside the cabin.

Glued to the view of the intense discussion between her boyfriend and Olivia, Layla realized that she desired nothing more than to know the answer to Asher's question.

[msotherworldly]

The Black Rain: Chapter One

In my previous posts, I mentioned my series in progress, The Children of Pandora, and how it was technically a multi-protagonist project. While Eradica is the main protagonist of the books, Insula and Rowan also have their own occasional books. The chapter below is the first in Rowan’s story - like The Blue Door, it’s still in need of editing. 

If this whole multi-protagonist business sounds confusing, check out my earlier posts. You’ll be introduced to the characters, their stories, and my comparison to Narnia on how this functions.

CHAPTER ONE: THE POSTCARD

The afternoons when I could be alone were the best, because they were also a relief. Outside, clambering over the rusty playground and dodging around the scattered beer cans, the children played. The place, with a few stunted shrubs for it’s fence, was filled with litter: there was a discarded tire, a few cardboard boxes, and some dirty clothes. The children used them as their toys, but I had my own toys to play with.

    From the window, I could see the mountains. They partially blocked a watery sun, which already fought a swath of cloud. I didn’t know that day would seem bright, when compared with the ones to come. I didn’t know a lot of things, such as what Dad looked like.

    I only knew his handwriting. I turned the postcard over. The writing was spidery and small, but I had looked it over at least once a day for the past three years. I flipped it over to the picture on the front: palm trees swayed in the wind, casting long blue shadows over the fancy cars and the newly paved roads. There were green hills, and a beach side resort with shirtless old men and grinning, skinny twenty year olds, most of them blonde. I had bought into a myth of my own making: if you stayed in the sun long enough, it turned blonde...but you had to live where it was hottest.

    At eight, that myth seemed flimsy. I curled a strand of brown hair around my finger, which was also brown, but sort of gold.

    The Palm Tree Place, where Dad lived, was like something from a dream. It was funny how it made me deeply happy and deeply sad at the same time.

    “What are you doing up here?” a voice hissed. Ms. Brocklehurst ambled into the room. A Seagull Anthromorph, she was a confusion of frayed feathers and pinstripe clothes. Her skirt was bunched around her knees, and her jacket was too loose on her thin frame. Glasses slid down her sharp, dirty beak.

    “I was just-”

    “If you don’t get down, I’ll switch you good.” Ms. Brocklehurst’s beady eyes narrowed. “Actually, I think I will anyways. You’ve already disobeyed me, haven’t you?”

    “Please, I was only-”

    “Bend over.” Ms. Brocklehurst took a cane down from the wall. “Now.”

    A lump formed in my throat. Hot tears spewed from my eyes. Mom always said I was a baby. What was the word she used? Ingrate? That’s what I am.

    The pain thudded over my back, and I screamed. That was bad, but I couldn’t help it: it whistled through the air. It hit harder. It bit. I screamed louder. My eyes were glued to the floor. A piece of it peeled away.

    Whoosh, whap, whoosh, whap. The sounds were so gentle, but they felt so hard. I tried not to count the hits. That always made me hope, and that made it worse somehow.

    The next hit didn’t come. I remained bent over. Snot streamed from my nose. The floor was a blurry mess, like a painting.

    I heard the cane being hung up. That was such a happy sound. I heard a stomp of taloned feet, squeezed between black shoes.

    “Down, or I’ll give you another set.”

    My back burned as I straightened myself. My whole body ached; my legs stung, and it was hard to move. I was stiff.

    I shuffled past worn beds with identical gray coverlets. The walls were gray; everything was. It matched the cobwebs that hung in the corners. It matched the rickety stairs that had been brown, but were now rotting and bleached from too many days of sun exposure.

    I stopped at the foot of the playground. I realized I was still holding the postcard. I shoved it into my pocket. I wore a pair of jeans that were always sliding down. My pink hoodie was baggier, or I was just too skinny.

    I saw Emma Ruth skipping along a hopscotch she had made from snapped twigs. I wandered over to her, smiling.

    “Hi, Emma.”

    “Hi, freak.”

    “Can I play?”

    “Sure. Just don’t touch me. I don’t want to catch your freak bug.”

    I hopped along behind her. I felt oddly cheerful. It was one day at a time, right? Also, nobody was hitting me. That was always a plus.

    “Do you ever think about your parents?”

    “Don’t talk to me.”

    “Maybe they’ll come back for you. Or maybe a rich man will come here and adopt us all. And he’ll check back in to get any new children that come in. And then Brocklehurst will sell the place to him. He’d be a billionaire, and he would make his money selling children’s clothes. But he’d buy all our clothes for free!”

    “You’re really stupid, aren’t you?” Emma hopped along behind me. We went in a circle. “That stuff only happens in storybooks.”

    “My dad wrote to me right before I came here. It was his only letter, but he told me how palm trees grew. He talked about coconut milk and-”

    Emma shoved me to the ground. My head hit the edge of the playground box, and pinpricks of light, golden and white, flashed across my eyes.

    Emma looked big, though she was only a tiny girl in a dress, red and white and checkered like a picnic blanket. She crossed her arms, her blue eyes growing small. “Just leave me alone, freak.”

    A mean picture came into my mind: Emma’s dress on fire, her face as she screamed. I brushed the picture away. How could I have a thought like that? How awful! It wasn’t Emma’s fault I was weird. What if I could give it to her? I guess I’d be afraid too. I didn’t want to hurt Emma. The meanness was gone, leaving behind cold.

    And she’s sad too. We all are. We’re in the same boat.

    A bell rang. Children rushed past me. I stood up. My butt was damp. I realized the grass was wet, glinting in the gray-gold light. It must have rained. I wiped my hands on my jeans; the palms were stained green.

    I was sure I would have hated school, even if it was a nice one. Math just didn’t make sense, though the other children seemed to get it, and science was sort of creepy. I only really liked art and language.

    Ms. Brocklehurst passed out our papers. We had been tasked with essays. As usual, mine was covered in red circles, red underlines, and red comments. These said things like, “Do you hate commas, or are you just dumb?” There was also, “My brother could write better than you, and he’s illiterate.”

    The comments might have bothered me, but Emma Ruth’s paper looked like it was dripping with blood. I know it’s mean, but it’s kind of awesome, too.

    We were asked to write short stories. This was the part I liked. I flew into another tale about a lost prince and the king who had sent him away because dragons were looking for him. He lived alone in a cottage, but he could see the castle from his window, surrounded by palm trees. The king drank coconuts for breakfast, ate pineapple for lunch, and dined on mangoes and watermelon in the evening.

    Emma snickered. “You’re writing that story again?”

    “I like it.”

    “You don’t have much of an imagination, do you?”

    I blushed. “It makes me happy. I wasn’t going to publish it or anything.”

    “I hope not. Otherwise people will be vomiting everywhere because it’s so bad.”

    “You’re just unhappy because your stories get picked on too.”

    “Excuse me? You don’t know anything, freak.”

    My face was on fire, and shame coated my stomach. “I didn’t mean...but I understand, Emma. I like your stories. I’m glad they have happy endings.”

    “You’re mocking me.”

    “No! My favourite was the one with the golden haired Elf. I’d run away with him in a heartbeat, though I probably would make us move somewhere warmer than in the story.”

    Emma stood up. Her chair scraped over the floor. She raised her fists. “Keep talking.”

    “Okay.” I didn’t understand sarcasm. “Um, I liked the one with the blue Dragon, too, and how it had green polka dots. I probably wouldn’t date him, but he was really cool.”

    Emma’s fist connected with my lip. It felt dull, the pain spreading in a blanket through my whole jaw. I fell to the floor. The chair caught my elbow, and I yelped. I could still hear the wet thud in my head; the moment replayed itself through my spinning head. I pressed my cheek to the floor. It was cold, and felt good on my hot skin.

    “What in the name of Genitrix-”

    “She made fun of me!” As I rolled onto my back, Emma pointed to me. “She made fun of my story!”

    Ms. Brocklehurst glared at me. She slapped a long ruler in her hand, before trotting forward. She stood over me. “Up! What are you, a dog?”

    I scrabbled to my feet. I sank into my chair. I wanted to cry that it wasn’t fair, but what good did that do? I pressed my lips together, keeping the tears in.

    “Put your hands out.”

    She’s just doing her job. I spread my fingers out over the desk. Below them lied my sketch of the prince. He had brownish gold skin, brown hair, and eyes that were so dark they were almost black. His lips were full, his nose wide and hooked. He looked just like me, except that his hair was cut short, almost a buzz.

    Mine hung down my back in a lank ponytail. The prince also has a shower everyday. He bathes on the beach, and waits for the king to collect him.

    The ruler came down with a slam. It was louder than the cane, but less painful. Even as I teared up, I couldn’t help thinking how funny that was. My fingers wrinkled back, bending at the knuckles. She hit me three times. That was easy to count.

    Addition is the only math I like. I felt dazed. My stomach growled. Was it the hunger or the pain? But subtraction sucks. I only like the math where numbers get bigger.

    Ms. Brocklehurst stocked to the front. I resumed my story, like nothing had happened. Because nothing did. She’s doing her job. She thought I was being mean, and that’s okay. So she was wrong. So what? If I had been mean, I would have deserved it. I glanced at Emma. She’s just scared, is all.

    A second voice, the one I thought of as The Meanie, answered me. Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.

    I will. There’s no need to be gloomy all the time, or nasty. Gloom settled in the pit of my stomach. Despair clutched my heart like a hand. My chest sank on the inside. My eyes stung.

    “Not fair,” I whispered. I glanced at Emma again. “I’m sorry.”

    “Huh?”

    “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be mean.”

    Emma furrowed her brow. She returned to her writing, shaking her head. All around me, pencils scratched. I wanted to read all the stories. Weren’t they all good in their own way?

    A delightful idea came to me. I had to struggle through math first, and the equations made me weep—literally. I was dreading algebra when I got older. That was when math stopped making sense for everybody.

    When class was over, I rushed to enact my plan. It was like clockwork: the kids tossed their last stories into the recycling bin. They dumped out their books.

    I knelt by the blue plastic container as they filed out. When the last kid, a Dog with Rottweiler markings named Jimmy, trotted out, I shoved my arms, elbow deep, into the paper. I plucked tales and drawings from the mix. I ordered them carefully, clicking them against the floor to make them straight.

    When I had collected them all, I had a fat, albeit unbound, book in my arms. I scurried up the stairs, ecstatic over my treasure. I didn’t have any books to read, but now I could read everyone’s stories.

    I flipped through the papers, knees pulled to my chest. I sat on my bed. I felt like a jeweler, surrounded by gleaming rubies and emeralds.

    I found Emma’s story, and put it at the front. The heroine (who always looked like Emma, with blue eyes and blonde curls) was falling in love with a Bear this time. She took half a page to describe his bulging muscles and glossy fur.

    She’s going to be a great romance writer someday! The story made me happy and warm all over. I decided it was my new favourite.

    I put my story at the back. It wasn’t that good, and I knew how it went. When I had read through all the stories, including mine, I pulled out the postcard again. Even though I loved Emma’s tales, this would always be my favourite thing to read.

    I closed my eyes, smiling. I sank into sleep. In my dreams, I saw the palm trees, and a sign with the postcard’s address: Similo, Sapphire Crest, Calidi, Queen Street, 4321.

[vampiresuns]

Corazón Ardiente

2.3k words. Preparing themselves to cross the Strait of Sirens, the crew of The Jagged Ruby runs into another pirate ship. Alternative, in which Julianus makes an unlikely friend. Contains 🍋

The crew of The Jagged Ruby and El Corazón Sangrante, such as Captain Rodrigo and his Quartermaster Jacqui, belong to @apprenticealec​. You can also check their map and lore about the Strait of Sirens here.​

This is the opening part of Part VI of Secrets of An Ancient Moon Series. Part VI will be divided in three parts: Corazón Ardiente, Corazón Sufriente and Corazón Sangrante.

Want to read more of these series? You can find it’s masterpost here.

This part also introduces the fictional country of ‘Altazor’, a latino fictional country where Julianus is from — other Alzoreño characters in my fictional universe are Louisa De Silva and her son: Aelius Anatole Radošević.

It wasn’t too long past the break of dawn when Jules heard the door open, making the sea breeze from outside enter the room. Its coolness made them bury themselves a little further into the sheets, though they kept enough of their head above the covers to peek an eye open. Saoirse’s outline closed the door of their quarters, making the door click behind them.

Jules yawned, sitting up on the bed, holding the covers up only for the sake of warmth. Saoirse smiled at them. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” they said as they stretched. “What were you doing?”

“Feeding Marcius for you.” Saoirse paused, as if unsure of what to do next. “Do you want me to go back to bed with you, or are you alright? It’s still too early for anything to happen… Meredith is not awake yet.”

Jules patted the side of the bed next to them, but Saoirse hesitated again. 

“What is it?”

“Should I join you with or without clothes?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“What you want, what I may want. I could just go back to sleep, you were a wonderful pillow,” they smiled; Saoirse thought they looked adorable with a bedhead and a sleepy smile on their face. “But I also wouldn’t mind not going back to sleep, if that’s what you were wondering.”

The Quartermaster licked their own lips, a distinctively human gesture. J. C. couldn’t help but wonder where, or who, they had picked it up from. They wondered about all such mannerisms in them, marvelling at the entity standing before them. As Saoirse took their shirt off, they asked them why they were looking at them like that. 

Julianus shrugged. “Aren’t you a curious entity?” 

“Care to tell me why?” Saoirse asked as they got back in bed. They faced Julianus, tucking their mussed up hair behind one of their ears. “I don’t think there’s anything particularly curious about this, us.”

“No, not us,” Jules paused to kiss the corner of their mouth. “I just find it wonderfully delightful that someone such as you would choose to model themself after beings such as humans. You’re so alike us in our lack of similarities.” 

Saoirse huffed through their nose. An undecipherable gesture that made Jules wonder if they did such things on purpose, or if they naturally to them. They didn’t ask however, allowing Saoirse space if they needed any. As their presence began acquiring that incomprehensible, vast feeling it often had, their eyes wandered all over them. However, Julianus no longer found it strange. Even if it prickled at them, they had learnt to find it comforting. 

That was Saoirse, their Saoirse. 

Neither of them should’ve been surprised they ended up having sex again. Why or who began it they didn’t know, nor they cared. Saoirse wanted to make use of Jules’ word that along with nights there would be mornings, and other moments, wanting to file away their many moods — both Jules’ and their own, and theirs as something which went together. Jules just wanted, simple as that. The day hadn’t begun yet, and given they weren’t nearly as quick as Saoirse was with their own tasks, not having had centuries to grow accustomed to them (as well as generally having a better capacity to finish tasks in one go). They weren’t going to pass on the opportunity to have the Quartermaster for themself just a little longer.

The distant but growing sound of drums had other plans, however. 

Saoirse went still, getting out of bed as they claimed Meredith would not be happy about this. They moved across their quarters as if nothing had interrupted them, stopping only when J. C. cleared their throat. They look vaguely irritated.

“If you could explain—“ 

Saoirse turned with a reassuring smile, telling them it was nothing of importance, just something Meredith wouldn’t like. It didn’t require Julianus, so Saoirse told them to feel free to dress at their leisure. Before they could dwell a moment longer, however, they were gone. 

Right, duty called. Now alone, Julianus set themself on getting ready, though it took them a moment to stir themselves into leaving the bed. They resigned themselves to their fate fast rather than slowly. At least the drumming, whatever its source, provided a nice ambience sound for it. It was energetic, like a Murga inviting Jules to join.

A Murga… when was the last time they had witnessed one? They must’ve been 17, 18 at most. Ten years was a long time, though sitting in bed to float over the waters of nostalgia wouldn’t get them anywhere, as tempting as it was, they knew better now, with time. Though the memories remained, they began moving. Sometimes, one had to sit with the discomfort and carry on — it’s lessons would come eventually.

A quick splash to their face, a scrub, some basic skin care, underwear, pants, a shirt, earrings and shoes. Only which ones? Meredith being otherwise occupied meant they had a little more time to dwell on their appearance, and Julianus used every extra moment they had. They didn’t have any breakfast duties that week, they could indulge. They settled on a pair of knee high lace ups, standing on one foot to adjust them. 

As they tried to keep their balance, a soft knock came from the other side of the door. They stumbled forward, clinging onto a small table in order not to fall. With the rattle, the person behind the door opened it. 

“Saoirse?” 

“Uh, not precisely.” 

The person was tall, tall enough to have to duck their head into Saoirse’s quarters, even if they lingered by the door. Jules did not have a good eye for measuring by estimation, but they knew they were definitely taller than Saoirse. They assumed that if they were specifically looking for them, they must know them.

The stranger acted with a gentle poise to them, somehow all amused, awkward and trying not to alarm Jules. It was nice of them, even if they didn’t know them, and by all means, from their perspective, the stranger in a friend’s room was Jules, not them. 

“I can see that. Unless Saoirse decided they wanted a change of look.”

Jules frowned, letting their mouth run loose. “Would they? I mean, we’re talking about someone who isn’t precisely pressed about appearances.” 

They both stared at each other in silence for a couple of moments, Jules adjusting their boots after a soft-spoken ‘excuse me’. 

“If you keep balancing yourself on one foot, you’ll fall again— pardon me, but are you—?”

Saoirse’s voice came from behind the stranger, a smile audible in it. “I tell them that all the time. Hi, Jacqui. Were you looking for me?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It turned out the drums came from the same place Jacqui, whom Jules knew only by the letters from him that Saoirse had shared with them, came from: Captain Rodrigo Aguilar’s El Corazón Sangrante, from the Sea of Persepia. Some business or the other had taken the Captain and his ship away from their sea, now making their return to it, as the quinquennial Pirate Meeting approached.

Jacqui, Rodrigo’s Quartermaster and Saoirse’s friend, had seen The Jagged Ruby from afar and convinced Rodrigo it would be better to join them in the cross of the Strait of Seals into Hinode. Winds weren’t favourable, and while it wasn’t a feeding season, another phenomenon Jules didn’t quite manage to understand made it desirable to have the most amount of aid possible crossing the strait. 

“We should just be thankful Inuwashi isn’t near.” 

“Is that Syd’s ship?” Jules asked. “Is there any particular reason for that or—?”

Saoirse was the one to reply: “The Sirens hate the ship,” they said with a shrug, “it makes it harder to cross after.”

“But the Sirens,” Jacqui said, giving Rodrigo a look, “like your songs.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rodrigo said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever works: I don’t wanna become fish food, and I assume neither do you, Mere,—”

“Don’t call me that,” Meredith snarled at him. 

Julianus made a mental note to ask Saoirse what was up with those two, and why they hated each other, or rather, why Meredith hated Rodrigo so much. Because from what Julianus could see, Rodrigo seemed too busy trying to flirt with her. He put a hand on her shoulder, and Meredith looked like she was ready to bite his hand off. Jacqui and Saoirse gave out equally long-suffering sighs. 

Jules suddenly understood why —among all the other reasons Saoirse had given— they were friends. What they failed to notice, however, was Rodrigo looking at them. 

“But now,” he said, with his Nopali accented common tongue, “you. You I haven’t met.”

Jacqui cursed. 

“Me?”

“Drigo leave them out of this… what are you even doing here, Sanlaurento?”

“Legal counsel should be present at all times?”

Meredith rolled her eyes at them. “Scatter off.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The time to get to know Jacqui would come later, after both crews had disembarked in Hinode to stay the night there. They would not make it out of the Strait in one day with the weather and wind conditions, so it would be safer to stay the night on land if they planned to sleep without the risk of sleepwalking into the water, and becoming a tasty midnight snack for the beings luring said waters. 

He was surprisingly gentle, incredibly soft spoken and very, very smart. He was very observant, prone to retreating into himself while being simultaneously aware of what was going on around him. He was also very, very aware of where Rodrigo was at all times. 

They had begun talking about Saoirse’s language and their individual journeys to learn it, eventually moving into other topics. Julianus had asked how Jacqui met Saoirse —since they had never asked Saoirse themselves because, per their own admission, they forgot to ask— and Jacqui asked how Jules had ended up in Meredith’s ship.

They also talked briefly about Altazor, Jules home country.

It was located in the furthest, western end of the Bulan Range, with the City of Altazor as its capital. It was the southernmost of the West Bulan countries and had its own convoluted history. Originally coexisting in relative harmony with the indigenous populations of the area, a military regime had risen out of an old power dispute a couple of decades before Julianus was born. They had been born during the first years of the transition back into civilian hands, but the damage dealt was already done. What the tyrants had done to the Country was, to Julianus and anyone else with half a mind to it, unspeakable and unforgivable. 

Of course, not everyone thought like that, but that was another story.

Julianus had lived in Altazor until their 20th birthday — having begun their legal studies there, they were transferred to Sirenia on a special request. They described the choice as ‘something’; whether the right or wrong something they didn’t know, and they told Jacqui as much. 

“I applied to the Sea Palace as well, I was forced to, because you know,” the paused to take a drink, “there’s certain… charm about the endless escalating capacity of the Petite Bourgeoisie. Nothing like the dog eats dog tradition of it and the class it seeks to imitate. Needless to say, the Sea Palace said I was, how was it? ‘A low-pedigree, insubstantial applicant, with more enthusiasm than talent’. I, however, said I preferred to die on the side street than study with grave robbers and gatekeepers. My mother wasn’t happy, but she also wasn’t happy about what the Scholars called me, so...”

They smiled against their glass, Jacqui’s laughter as their companion. 

“You’re lucky.” 

“Meh, but thank you, I suppose.” 

Their talk about the Sea Palace and those places they both had left behind at some point (even if neither of them talked openly about those) carried onto politics, international news, the state of the world; places they wanted to visit, authors they had read. Both of them talked animatedly about this or that, exchanging points of views and debating ideas like nothing else pressed them in the world. They acquired a lightness to them, finding themselves less weighed down by the things they did not talk of.

If only for a night, both of them could be what a part of them had always desired they were: two travelling scholars. Only that. Two people had all the time in the world to dissect it and pick it up again, ever-marvelling at everything it may have to offer.

Two people for whom the horizon was a goal, not an impossibility. 

The conversation paused when Saoirse offered to go get them drinks again, leaving both of the newly found friends in comfortable silence, with the sounds of the Koizumi Inn surrounding them. 

“You’re nice to talk to,” Jules said with a smile. “It’s hard to find people who simply understand.”

Jacqui looked at them like they had grown a second head. “I don’t know how to take that. I don’t even know what that means.”

“As a compliment because it was one.” They paused to nurse their glass, taking a sip of their drink. “You don’t have to tell me anything, and I do apologise if I’m overstepping but you kind of have the energy of someone who everything which they are, which matters the most to them, did not come easy. Saoirse has it, in their own way, Meredith has it for sure, you do. I think it takes a lot of guts to look in the eye of everyone who ever expected something of you and say ‘No, I will not sacrifice myself for this’.”

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.05

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Angst, teasing, tension

WC: 2298

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N gets woken up in the middle of the night by weird noses. It sounds like someone is scratching against the bedroom wall on the outside. She doesn’t know what it is, and doesn’t dare look. It could be anything really. Maybe a gust of wind carried a branch here, maybe there are wild animals outside. She thinks about how it could be anything but she doesn’t let her mind wander and assume the worst. 

Should she wake Dean up for it? She hates to wake him up if it’s really nothing, though.

She decides to wait a little bit longer, maybe it’ll go away. But she hears the clock ticking while the noise stays.

“Dean,” She whispers and looks to the open door.

To her surprise, Dean’s already standing in the doorway, his gun cocked and hair disheveled. He’s wearing some pj pants and a white t-shirt. 

“Get out of the bed and come stand behind me!” He hisses as he creeps along the wall towards the window. 

She frowns a little but does what she’s told and gets out of bed, tip toes her way over to where Dean’s standing.

His eyes widen when he sees that she only wears a set of comfortable Calvin Klein underwear, and he rolls his eyes at that, “Jesus, what are you wearing for bed?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s hot here, alright?” She comes to stand behind him now. 

“Always wear something, Y/N. You never know when you need to up and leave.” Dean hisses through gritted teeth as he looks out of the window from the side, keeping himself from being seen.

“Well, excuse me but I never had to up and leave before in my life!” 

Dean ignores her, instead he peeks out and after a long moment, he starts to chuckle.

“What?” She asks him.

“Come see,” He says, and stands back a little, making room for her to push past him in order to be able to steal a look herself. 

It’s a mother bear and her cub, probably searching for food. Her eyes widen as she takes it in and watches them. She’s never seen bears from up close before. Not in the wild. She watches until they walk back towards the thick of the forest where they came out from, probably unsatisfied because they didn’t find anything here.

“We’re safe.” Dean exhales, he’s probably relieved himself, “You can go back to sleep.”

She climbs back to bed, while Dean watches her, making sure to stick her ass out, because she likes to rile him up. She goes back to bed without protest either. Mainly because she doesn’t want to be a pain in his ass. Dean already has his hands full with taking care of her and she at least can cut him some slack. 

While she tries to make herself comfortable in bed, Dean rummages in the closet and tosses her a shirt. It hits her square in her face and he laughs before he walks away while telling her to fucking wear it. 

She’s holding up the shirt, sees that it’s not hers because it’s too big, so it must be one of his. She pulls it over her head and brings it to her face to smell at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s a fresh shirt.” Dean calls out from the living room.

How does he fucking knows?

She smirks and lays back down, taking in his scent one more time and closes her eyes. 

 ***

 The next two days were pretty awkward. 

But maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. 

There were lots of looking at each other when the other one was not looking. Because how else could she explain the burning sensation she felt on her skin? The same thing she always felt when he looked at her with hungry eyes. She mostly felt it on her back when she had it turned to him and every time she looked back at him, he had his head turned downwards or had it tilt the other way.

It seemed to her that Dean avoided her more either. When he would be in a room and she would walk in to grab something, he would storm out of whatever room he was in and honestly, it was weird and fucking awkward because there aren’t many rooms in this cabin.

Dean would also cringe every time their skin would brush against each other by accident. 

Which is really, really not how she wants someone to react to her touches.

 *

 She’s in bed reading when Dean walks in on the afternoon of their third day in hiding.

“Your friend,” He says and hands her his phone.

Y/N takes the phone out of his hand and sees that Dean has already put Meg on speaker phone.

He sits down at the foot of the bed, listening in on the conversation and she doesn’t like that at all but apparently that’s the rule.

“Hey,” She says, her eyes are on Dean but he looks away.

“Oh my god, the guy who picked up, is that your bodyguard?”

“Yes?” She answers.

“Fuck, Y/N, he sounds sexy as fuck. His voice is so deep, so gravelly, it makes my skin tingle. I bet he makes other parts of you tingle, too, isn’t he?”

She turns red, “Meg,” It’s supposed to be a warning to her friend without saying too much. She hopes Meg gets it.

“No, seriously, I bet he’s fucking sexy, isn’t he? Probably could lift you up one armed and I bet he can fuck you as deep as his voice is.”

Apparently, Meg doesn’t get it.

Y/N watches Dean and see’s that he tries to suppress a smirk. His face settles for a frown instead.

“Meg!” She shouts, trying to stop her friend.

“Seriously, Y/N, you gotta live. Can’t be that Chuck that sleazy weasel gets to have all the fun and you don’t!”

“Is there a reason for your call?” She asks Meg with annoyance in her voice and that does the trick because it seems like Meg gets what Y/N was trying to say.

“Ugh, he’s listening isn’t he?”

She huffs out a tired chuckle, “Yeah.”

“Hi, Mr. Bodyguard, I was just joking,”

Dean turns his head to the phone, “Hi,” He says, and then a little lower, as if he wants to tease the shit out of Meg, “Meg, is it?”

There’s a squeal on the other end and Dean raises an eyebrow at Y/N to which she just shrugs.

“Like Y/N said, is there a reason you called, Meg?” Dean asks.

Meg whimpers, “Oh my god,”

There’s a long pause.

“Meg, did you just have an orgasm or something?” Y/N’s giggling.

“I’m close, can’t lie. Mr. Bodyguard, have you ever thought about working for a phone sex line? Becau—”

“—Meg!” She cuts her friend off. 

“Alright, listen, you two, I went on facebook today and TMZ posted an article about Y/N’s kidnapping.”

“They what about what?” Dean’s voice cuts in, and it’s loud, it makes her flinch.

“Yeah,” Meg says, “You can look for yourself. I thought you weren’t kidnapped? But Chuck gave an exclusive interview, and even a reward is out for your safe return.”

“What the fuck!” She looks at Dean and he stands up, he’s agitated but he keeps his composure.

“Okay, thanks, Meg. She’s not kidnapped. But please keep that to yourself until we talk to Chuck. Can you do that?”

“Of course, Mr. Bodyguard.”

“We need to go. Bye Meg, miss you.” She says quickly because Dean’s already walking out into the living room and starts up his laptop.

She follows and slams his phone on the table where he’s sitting, “Who the fuck are you?”

Dean looks up from the laptop, there’s a pained expression on his face. “Your bodyguard.”

“Why should I believe you?” She shouts and starts to pace around the room.

“Your husband knows where we are! Why should I kidnap you and even let you talk to your friend?”

“But you don’t let me go anywhere!” She lets out a frustrating groan that comes out from the depths of her throat.

“Because I have to fucking keep you safe!” Dean stands up and pushes his chair back with a screech.

Y/N’s eyes find Dean’s gun on the table and she takes it, aiming it at Dean and he looks at her in bewilderment.

“Y/N, put that down,” His voice is firm, as if he puts his foot down by only speaking to her. It sounds final, like it’s his way or no way.

She’s crying, even though she doesn’t want to, “No. Who are you, Dean? Why me? If you know us, you’d know that Chuck doesn’t give a fuck about me. He probably would kill me himself if someone would ask him for ransom money for my safe return.”

Her hands are shaking, her grip on the gun is tight, the white of her knuckles showing.

Dean purses his lips and then everything happens so fast. 

One moment she has the gun aimed at him and the next she finds herself pinned against the wall, his hand on her wrist and there’s nothing that she could do other than letting him take the gun from her hand. He’s so close, his face a mere inch from hers, his breath mingles with hers and the look on his face is a mixture between anger and pain.

“Sweetheart, next time you aim a gun at someone, make sure the safety’s off,” Dean reaches back, tucks his gun into his pants, but she’s still pinned there. 

Dean's eyes are on her, his breathing picks up when he brushes the tears away from her cheeks. He leaves his thumb on her bottom lip, drags it down, making her open her mouth. 

The next thing she knows he’s kissing her. And instead of it being rough like the kiss they shared before, this one is much gentler. He presses his body to her, his hands kneading at the flesh of her hips while he maps out her mouth with his tongue. And she wants more, wants everything he’s able to give her.

Before it can grow heavier, Dean breaks the kiss and steps back. His teeth gnawing at his bottom lip before he looks downwards, “Shit, I shouldn’t. ‘M sorry.”

She places her fingers to her lips, feels them hot and wet. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I—” Dean lets out a breath, “—I don’t know what came over me.” He rubs at his forehead, “You gotta believe me, Y/N. I’m not a kidnapper.” Dean walks back to the table and grabs his phone, thumbs over his screen to dial a number.

She walks closer, sees that he dials Chuck.

Chuck doesn’t pick up.

That’s typical. He probably is screwing some hoes.

Dean hangs up, and takes his phone, thumbs over something and then he hands it to her.

It’s text messages between him and Chuck.

 D: Everything’s alright, sir.

D: We stay put.

D: Nothing happened.

 Dean text’s Chuck up to six times on a daily basis since they’re here and Chuck always only sends him one text each day with the word, “Okay.”

“You know, I have no idea about Chuck’s plans nor the police’s plans,” Dean’s head is low when he comes to stand in front of her, “My only job is to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” 

“I thought you were joking at first when you said that your husband doesn’t care about you. Couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact how someone could not at least care a little bit about the person they’re married to but then I saw it with my own eyes. The lack of empathy he shows you is mind blowing.” Dean let out a tired chuckle.

She swallows.

“He sent you away with me. We are glued together for three days and he doesn’t fucking care.” His voice drops just a little lower, “You deserve better.”

“He never did,” She mumbles because it’s true. All her fucking husband has to say is okay? O-fucking-kay?

Dean reaches out a hand, places it on the back of her neck, pulls her a little closer and lowers himself and all she sees is the green of his eyes, “I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not a kidnapper. I have nothing to do with it. All I’m doing is keeping you safe and it would be good if you would trust me on this.”

She nods. He’s so close. It makes her want to surge forward, makes her want to kiss him—

— but she doesn’t.

“Good,” He says, “Let’s see what that website says, okay?” 

Dean walks back over and sits down and she follows, comes to stand next to him. He looks up at her then, “What’s the website called again?”

Instead of answering, she types it in for him, her upper arm brushes against his scruff after she takes her arm back, it leaves behind a longing inside of her.

There’s a picture of Chuck on the front page, next to it is a picture of her in a dramatic bubble. 

 CHUCK SHURLEY PLEADS TO KIDNAPPER: PLEASE DON’T HARM MY WIFE.

 She snorts when she sees the headline.

Dean reads the article aloud, “Apparently he received an email telling him to pay $5 million for your safe return. He has seven days and if not they’d kill you.”

“This is bullshit,” She huffs out a breath, “What is Chuck playing?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like this at all.” Dean closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming away on the closed laptop.

CH.06