#dome cafe

[emaadsidiki]

Rooftop ◈ Reichstag ◈ Berlin ࿐ྀུ ❀ꦿ֗

[bl-bam-beyond]

BAM & BEYOND...with DOME from THE LUMINOUS SOLUTION

WORANART RATTHANAPHAST

[Nickname: DOME]

This series is a mystery to me. Not really connecting to the main couple yet which is bad considering we're 3 episode into what is only 6 episodes. Do like the high school couple but slow moving there so let's switch into what does interest me. The FABULOUS DOME (BEAM, 2 MOONS 2)

His story is a mystery. He doesn't seem to be a part of the BL element but more involved with the Cafe Wish Lady. And in Episode 3 he went to a hospital looking for his birth records.

He brought a sandwich to the Cafe that he's not suppose to be in. What is his connection to that Cafe. He left when she got angry because Thana was coming. He bumped into Thana leaving then made a phone call in English inquiring about a magic cafe. Who is Pie? Either way DOME is looking fabulous.

@pose4photoml

[prettyvintagehouse]

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Two

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: None :)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“The sun’s barely gone down!” Cassian grumbled, following behind Helion, Rhysand, and Feyre as they walked the cobblestone streets of the Day Court. Every block of the small city contained at least two local bookstores, one cafe that also sold books, one flower shop that also sold books, and/or a small glass box filled with - as anyone could have guessed - more books to be given away for free. 

Helion chuckled, “You’re not in the Night Court any more. My people are early to bed, early to rise. Unless of course you spend a night with me.” He winked at Cassian, who had the sense to blush. Indeed the Night Court members had been shocked when the party cleared out not even two hours after the sun had slipped beneath the ground. 

Aside from the small scale bookstores which housed the most popular and recently published novels, every sector of the Day Court also had between one to three athenaeum’s - elaborate buildings of ivory stone laced with filigree and windows that lit up like the glowing eyes of an ancient beast. They were the pride and joy of all Day Court members. The windows flickered and shone with the magic used to protect the volumes from the sun. Even as the neighborhood lights slowly winked out, Azriel could track the diligent minds scouring the brightly lit shelves. There was a loving madness in their hunched backs, craned necks, and squinting eyes. 

As their troupe reached The Alcove, one of the smaller and cozier athenaeum’s, Azriel couldn’t help but imagine you in a similar display of passionate madness, when you forgot about the world around you and could actually relax.

The Alcove specialized in housing diaries and novels of everyday comforts - quiet, unassuming stories that could steal your heart as swiftly as the grandest tales of war and romance, but with much more discretion. Here, the knowledge pressed between pages with ink was full of warmth and subtlety. The others in your cohort had scorned you for your choice in The Alcove. Why would anyone choose such a dull place to live and work? Why not be surrounded by books on war tactics or history or religion or biology? Someplace useful and worthy of a Librarian’s gifts. But The Alcove had offered you something you’d missed since your mother’s death - a sense of home. 

You sat by the bay windows overlooking the darkened street below, breathing in the crisp and cool air that snuck in through the glass. On the other side of your apartment, a similar window overlooked The Alcove’s interior. Hundreds of mahogany shelves lined the high walls of the octagonal building with its signature domed roof. Grand staircases of gold twisted their way up from the ground, connecting to walkways that gave easier access to the volumes housed higher up the walls. 

It was a blessing in disguise that you’d chosen to sit on this side of your apartment. Otherwise you would have never seen the Shadowsinger watching you with careful consideration, his eyes faintly glowing like the eyes of a cat. He raised one gloved hand up at you in a wave, a solitary gesture as the rest of his companions and Helion walked towards the stairs that led up to your apartment entrance. 

He saw your mouth open in a shocked oh and couldn’t help the faintest smile gracing his lips as you disappeared from view.

“Oh shit.” You sprang up from your seat, eyes madly racing over the contents of your apartment. You were in the middle of a research project on magical signatures and your living space reflected the madness in your mind. Books lay open on the floor, on the desk, on the coffee table surrounded by carefully documented notes and half-scribbled ideas in equal measure. You wouldn’t be able to clean it up in time and, quite frankly, you had no interest in disrupting the chaotic organization. Did you really care about impressing the Night Court and Helion? 

The terrifying answer was, yes.

The dining room. 

It rarely saw use since you were disinclined to receive guests, and had more recently been repurposed to house stacks of romance novels… best not to let anyone see those… 

In the five minutes it took for Helion and the members of the Inner Circle to climb up the dozen flights of stairs, and knock on your door, you’d successfully managed to hide all the smutty romance books in your bedroom, throw a table cloth and candle on top of the dining table, put away the dried dishes that had been displaced on the kitchen countertops, and set a kettle on the stove. Was there anything more that could be done? 

Helion smiled brightly when you made your appearance, keeping the door slightly ajar to keep the worst of the living room out of sight. Perhaps this would be a short visit and they wouldn’t even ask to come inside.

“Y/n!” Helion said with a grin, “I present to you the Inner Circle of the Night Court.” He gestured with a grand flourish to some of the most beautiful fae you’d ever had the honor of witnessing.

“Some of us at least.” The High Lord’s voice was liquid honey and filled with enough charisma to seduce a nun.

“The most important ones.” The Lord of Bloodshed said with a boyish grin. The faint scar on his cheek pulled back with his smile.

“I’ll let Nesta know you said that.” The High Lady had swapped out her dress for a more simple pair of black slacks and a billowing shirt that cinched in at the waist, flowing over her body like smoke on water. 

“Wait, no. Feyre, I was only joking. Feyre-” 

She laughed, tipping her head back while her husband and mate looked on with a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t expected to see. It wasn’t the love that shocked you so much as the casualness of it. High Lords and Lady’s - from the limited experience you had reading about them in books - were either unreadable or such outrageous flirts they looked ready to jump into the bones of anything that could stand upright or lay down for long enough. Both methods were appropriate to hide their true feelings, but Rhysand and Feyre seemed to take another approach entirely. 

Helion coughed when you made no move to introduce yourself, still shell-shocked at the caliber of guests currently at your door, “And to the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I present Y/n Y/l/n. My dear friend and one of the most talented researchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you.” Feyre said, moving forward on instinct to embrace you. She stopped immediately when she saw you flinch back, but recovered quickly, smiling brightly, “My name is Feyre, and this is my mate Rhysand,” The High Lord tipped an imaginary hat, “And his brothers, Cassian and Azriel.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you.” You said politely.

“The honor is all ours.” Rhysand said. He held Feyre closer to his side, one hand ghosting close to her stomach in memory of the child that had grown there not even two years ago. “Helion told us everything you did. Our daughter is alive and well thanks to you, as is my mate.” 

You blinked in surprise. You didn’t know Helion had told them about that. 

“Oh um, it was a joint effort. My High Lord is too kind.” You said with a respectful dip of your head and all at once your manners flooded into your brain again, “Please, come in.” 

You sheepishly opened the door further, allowing the two High Lords and High Lady to grace your apartment. The Illyrians crossed the threshold last. Muscular, leathery wings rippled with power and prestige and it was incredible they managed to stay upright, let alone keep them from dragging on the floor. 

You made a mental note to revisit some old anatomy texts on winged fae. 

“I um,” You hurried to the kitchen, hearing the kettle start to screech, “I apologize. I wasn’t prepared for guests.” The screaming stopped and you remembered that you didn’t have any matching tea sets. 

You reached into the cupboards, face blushing at the assortment of novelty mugs you’d acquired over the years. Hardly fit for a children’s tea party let alone some of the most powerful fae to have ever existed. 

“There will be no apologies from you, tonight, my dear.” Helion said with a charming smile, “Not after we’ve barged into your home uninvited and taken over your dining table.”

From over the island you saw that Helion had already settled down at the table, the others following suit. Everyone except for the Shadowsinger. 

He lingered by the kitchen archway, keeping a respectful distance as you poured boiling water into the teapot over a mixture of chrysanthemum and rosehip. 

“Would you like any help?” He gestured to the tray now loaded with the teapot, cups, and a platter of biscuits that shook in your hands. 

“Oh,” You stared at his outstretched hand, soft black leather molded over graceful fingers. “No, that’s alright. I can do it. But thank you for offering.” You stood face to face with him, silently begging him with your eyes to move to the table with the others so you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of touching him.

His hand quickly dropped to his side, then slid behind his back. You caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it. 

“There are some cookies in the living room!” You said a little too loudly, “On top of the coffee table. If-if you wouldn’t mind bringing those-” The Shadowsinger was already gone on his mission and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

There were more books on the floor than swords on a battlefield. Azriel stepped over them gently, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement. Books on anatomy, microbiology, human medicine, and magical theory flared outward, tracing the path of Y/n’s mind. Azriel walked it with wonder at the brilliance hidden within the midnight thoughts that had been spilled on paper, before being organized later on with a loving hand. Because that’s what this all spelled out to him - some chaotic, maddening love. He was almost jealous not to be on the receiving end of it… almost.

He saw the platter on the table, but ignored it for the pile of books by the windowsill. These ones were different from the rest. Older and more worn. The bindings were cracked and flexible after being read hundreds of times. He could even trace the faint outlines of your fingers on the leather bindings where natural oils had eaten away at the dye. 

He read over the titles and committed them to memory for no other reason than the fact that he liked things that had been well loved. 

“I made a mistake don’t-” 

Azriel straightened up, color washing over his cheeks as he turned to face you in a sea of paper and leather. 

Without thinking, he’d fallen into old habits of poking through people’s belongings. There was a reason Rhysand had made him Spymaster of the Night Court after all. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Did you eat a cookie?” You blurted out in a panic. 

“No, no I didn’t.” 

Your shoulders dropped in relief, one hand brushing back your hair. Azriel caught sight of your ink stained fingertips, and the faint mark they left on your temple. 

“Oh thank the Mother.” You muttered under your breath, stealing a glance over your shoulder to the dining room where Helion was playing host in your stead and doing a far better job than you would have been capable of.

“Are they poisoned?” Azriel asked, but the joke fell flat upon seeing the horror in your face.

“No! No, that's not why-I should explain myself better. I would never dare try and poison you. Or anyone for that matter!” You scrunched your eyes shut, face burning brighter than the sun at noon.

I’m a fool. I’m making a fool of myself. He’s going to think I’m an absolute idiot. And right after Helion called me a gifted researcher. What a fucking lie.

Azriel, the blessing in disguise that he was, gave you a moment to collect yourself, pretending to find more interest in a volume on snake venom that was laid open on the ottoman. 

“A friend baked those for me.” You finally said. 

Azriel nodded, a faint smile gracing his face and it caught you off guard. He was beautiful, there was no doubting it so long as you had eyes. What had surprised you was the faint slivers of warmth behind the facade of the cold, brooding Shadowsinger. It was… surprisingly comforting to be standing in a room with him, just the two of you. It was certainly better than the party you’d unceremoniously winnowed out of earlier that day.

“I would never hold it against you if you wanted to save those for yourself.”

Your lips twisted in disgust, “Oh gods no, Cherp is a terrible cook.”

“Cherp?”

“He’s another Librarian I know.” Probably the closest thing to a friend I have. But you weren’t about to tell the Shadowsinger that. “He specializes in chemistry and food history.”

“He’s a food historian?”

“Yes.”

“And yet he’s a terrible cook?” The Shadowsinger tilted his head to the side. 

The corner of your mouth tipped up, “The worst.”

“How is that possible?”

You gave it a thought, eyes darting around the walls like the answer was hidden behind paint, “Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, um,” You weren’t sure what to call him.

“Azriel. Call me, Azriel.”

“Azriel.” You said, testing out the shape of his name. You liked it.

“Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, Azriel?”

He cocked his head to the side, “I do not.”

“Thousands, Azriel. Thousands. If I told you to bake a cake with an egg, would you know I meant a chicken egg?” This time you didn’t wait for an answer, “Because you’d be surprised how quickly facts we consider ‘common knowledge’ disappear. Will people know we meant chicken eggs 1 million years from now? Perhaps not! All this to say that when Cherp follows recipes, he usually doesn’t have the knowledge to make it correctly and they turn out bland at best, inedible and poisonous at worst.” 

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, prompting you to explain further, “He once spent ten years researching the evolution of average spoon sizes because so many of his recipes were measured in spoonfuls.”

Azriel smirked, “Is this what you academics get yourselves so worried about?”

You couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing you or not, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes said he wasn’t. “Well we...among other things, yes, I suppose that is something we concern ourselves with…” 

“Y/n!” Helion called from the other room, “Stop romancing the Shadowsinger and join us at the table. It’s a futile effort. I’ve been trying for centuries.” 

Your face turned a brighter shade of red as you watched Azriel pick his way through the empty spots on the floor. You pressed yourself against the wall to let him pass, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. And when he took a seat at the table, you ignored the unoccupied seat next to him, preferring to stand behind the island like a woodland creature ready to dive into their den at a moment’s notice. 

His lips flattened. He’d hoped to make you more comfortable around him after the disastrous events at the party, going so far as to hide the shadows that were clamoring for release. He should’ve known better than to assume one conversation about the historical accuracy of egg recipes would make that discomfort go away.  

From your island you tossed pleasantries back and forth like it was a game. But you couldn’t help the stiffness in your posture, the hesitation in your voice when they asked you about your life.

“I’m a Librarian.” You’d first answered, as if it were all that needed to be said. But they pressed onwards, tried to make you laugh. Cassian, especially, liked to poke fun, and despite your best efforts, you laughed. 

“All these libraries would make Nesta go feral. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”

“What kind of books does she like to read?” You asked, refilling the kettle as the cloudy sky outside darkened into a rich purple-black.

Cassian coughed, face turning red, “Romance.” He answered simply.

“Smutty romance.” The High Lord said, punching Cassian in the arm. His face turned redder.

“Lucky you,” Helion said with a wink that had Feyre bursting out into laughter. It was no secret that Helion had added Nesta onto his list of fae he’d one day like to have in his bed.

“There is an athenaeum that specializes in romance, and there’s no shortage of those sorts of novels… if you’re interested.” You said, hiding your face behind a sip of tea. 

“And how would you know about that?” Feyre asked teasingly. 

“I… am a Librarian. I know-I know things.” You sputtered unconvincingly. “I went once. Purely for research purposes.” 

Azriel gave her a look, a look that said he somehow knew of the eight raunchy books that graced your bedside table and had been well-read indeed.

As the conversation evolved to less embarrassing topics, you were struck by the fact that you were actually enjoying yourself. It was a far cry from the parties that you’d previously been invited to. There was an ease to the Inner Circle. A familial love that flowed off them as easy as water off a whetstone. It was something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

Azriel noticed when you fell silent, your mind carried away to more sobering thoughts than Cassian’s most recent travels to the Human Lands. Feyre noticed as well and made her surprise at the time look natural and unscripted.

“Day Court members are early to bed and early to rise aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time.” She said, gently pulling Rhysand up with her as she stood. 

“No, not at all. Thank you for coming. I-I hope your daughter is doing well.” Was that an appropriate thing to say? Perhaps it was too threatening to comment on the wellbeing of a High Lord and High Lady’s child. But Feyre didn’t find any fault with that, a glassy look sliding over her eyes as Mor let Feyre into her mind so she could look at little Velaria dozing away in her aunt’s arms back home.

“She’s getting to be more and more of a handful everyday.”

“I wonder where she gets that from?” Cassian chimed in, throwing Rhysand a look as they collected their coats and slowly made their way over to the front door.

Rhysand threw his hand to his chest in indignation, “I was practically an angel.” 

Cassian snorted, “More like the devil.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes, shuffling the pair out the door into the still night. 

Azriel once again lingered behind, the last to leave behind Helion. He stepped out into the night-chilled air, the edges of him disappearing like the darkness had come to reclaim him. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n, the Librarian.” He said, dipping into a shallow bow.

“It was lovely to meet you, Azriel…the Shadowsinger.” 

He smiled shyly, then froze, the smile slipping off his face into a look of shock. You glanced over your shoulder, missing the explosion of shadows that spilled out from him. 

You leapt back upon feeling their cool touch wrapping around you. There was a curiosity to the way they wound themselves through your hair and got tangled up in the folds of your dress. But thankfully, they carried no memories with them. No feelings but a faint relief and comfort that washed over you and gave you back your breath. For the first time in years you were experiencing a touch that you could handle. A touch that was stillness and peace.

“Is everything alright?” You finally looked back at Azriel, his eyes blown open and panicked.

He was not a man of many words. Never had been, never would be. But he wished he could speak everything on his mind. 

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re the one I’ve been waiting over 500 hundred years for. 

But when he saw the concern in your eyes, the gentle tilt of your head that exposed the curve of your neck, he knew it wasn’t the time.

“I-I have to go.” 

This time it was his turn to disappear. He swallowed his words, forced down the bond that now burned in his chest with the light of a thousand suns, and fled past the shocked faces of his family members before shooting off into the night sky.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Does this batboy deserve a nerdy mate to tease and have fun with? Yes. I will take no criticism (just kidding if you have thoughts about how my writing is, let me know, just be kind and respectful about it).

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 2@auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt

[incredibly-tired-icecube]

sorry it what my hollyberry

LMAO??? | yeah… but hey I can be his side chick to therapy/j | he’s always weird and I don’t even know the lore | it seems sweet!!!!

They’re literally meant to be together. Like it’s a canon ship that not enough people ship.

It’s not confirmed but like in the original story, Jia Huan poured candle wax onto Hong Lu’s eye which burned it

parenthesis… exponent……

Limbus issue

Does anyone else have this problem?

So I use the Gacha pretty often, usually in singles. And through all of my Gacha runs, I’ve never gotten a Gregor identity.

I have 2 Gregor EGOs- Bygone Days and, one I got recently from Gacha, I don’t remember its name but the wedding dress Gregor. He’s married to me guys.

But I have not a SINGLE GREGOR IDENTITY

NOT EVEN IN RED. I HAVE EVERYONE ELSE BUT THIS GAME REFUSES TO GIVE KE A SINGLE IDENTITY FOR GREGOR

WHY??

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 2 -  La Valse de Paris

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.7k

AuthorsNote: Chapter 2 of new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This details our reader settling into Paris and the outbreak of war. Benedict turns up next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

Paris, September 1939

Your first few weeks in Paris are a delightful blur. 

Spending late summer exploring the city - with Solène as your occasional guide and Eloise when she is not at work. You soak up every moment, from the windswept magnificence of standing atop the Eiffel Tower, your words being stolen by the wind, to the monastic silence of the Louvre on a quiet Monday morning. And everything in between - from Notre Dame's atmospheric incense-laden gothic darkness to the airy, resplendent glass dome of Galeries Lafayette that glitters like a prismatic jewel even on cloudy days. 

But perhaps your favourites are the little slices of city life: sitting watching the world go by at a corner cafe, the crunch and warm, pillowy softness of the first bite of freshly baked baguette as you wander back from the boulangerie, the lingering fragrance of the rose garden at the Château de Bagatelle in Bois de Boulogne... It's all pieces of a puzzle that fill your heart in ways that make your life before now seem drab, almost in black and white, like a photograph.

You have written to Stanley once since you arrived, effusive in your praise, a homily to your new home, however temporary. While proclaiming his happiness for you, his response tempered, a touch dismissive of your wonderment. I can scarcely believe any city could truly live up to the praise you so readily heap upon Paris, my love, he wrote back. That was a week ago, and your urge to reply has been muted. 

It's during an idle lunchtime by the Seine, eating a sandwich as you dangle your feet over the river wall, that you genuinely feel a local. An elderly French couple, likely visiting from the provinces, approaches you and asks you for directions to the Musée de l'Homme. Part of you aglow they think you sophisticated enough to look Parisian, and French. And you are able to help them, giving them the information in French, not fluent but sufficient that they are surprised when you confess “je suis américaine”.

In your third week, you secure the art gallery job Eloise had seen posted. An opportunity to meet many new people, primarily British and American, who share your love of art of all persuasions. You spend many a happy hour answering questions and building your knowledge of art, not just in your gallery but across the city. Part of you is wistful to study the subject in even greater depth than the books you borrow in copious quantities from the library where Eloise works.

You grow so close to Eloise so quickly that it’s as if you have known her your whole life. A sense of kinship, a near familial bond. You know, on some instinctive level, she will always be a part of your life somehow. Your evenings are often spent in lounge bars together—venues awash with art deco splendour as you listen to jazz through a cigarette haze and flirt aimlessly with a carousel of handsome men. Life seems so full of potential, a hum in your very being.

“What do you think the purpose of life is, y/n?” Eloise sighs as she flops onto your bed after returning from one such decadent night out.

“Aaaand we are done with the brandy…” you declare, taking the bottle of Martell cognac from her grip and placing it pointedly on the dresser, your high-handed point only mildly undermined by your own unsteady gait.

You collapse down next to her, the intricate ceiling rose around your light fixture swirling slightly before your very eyes.

“Love?” you hazard in answer to her question.

“Boo! Cliché!” she jeers, elbowing you good-naturedly.

“I don’t just mean romantic love,” you protest, “the love of family… friends…”

“Ah, yes, family. Endlessly large family. Don’t suppose you want an extra sibling or two, do you? I could be persuaded to let a couple go,” she squints comically.

“Depends… can I have the artist?” you jest.

“You have to stop staring at that painting; it's getting weird,” she opines with her typical bluntness, “and no, you can’t. You know he’s my favourite,” she pouts.

“I think he’s my favourite too,” you opine over a stifled yawn, any embarrassment about being called out for your unbridled admiration overridden by the sleepy state your comfortable bed lulls you into.

“If you end up being attracted to my brother, I will have to disown you, you know,” she pats your hand drowsily.

“Hmm, good thing he’s so far away…” you trail off with a lazy giggle, eyes drooping heavily.

It’s the last words you exchange before you both fall asleep on your bed.

–

Perhaps, as with all things that are too good, the idyll is temporary. It's the news you wake up to that following morning, September 4th, which throws everything into uncertainty. Solène knocks on your door early with an uncharacteristically sombre expression, wordlessly handing you the morning paper and flicking on the wireless on your mantelpiece, the fine lines on her face deeper etched, furrowed with worry.

‘La Guerre!’ the headline screams from the newspaper. And the voice on the airwaves, your ear more attuned to the language now, details how Britain and France have jointly declared war against Germany for their invasion of Poland a few days prior.

At the sound of the radio, Eloise emerges from your room, blinking and hair asunder, a little delicate from your previous night's revelry. You sip coffee at a loss for what to think or do. It’s an odd cognitive dissonance when life at once seems identical but also changed by an invisible shape - an undercurrent of fear, of the unknown, a punch to the pit of your stomach that you don’t know how to acknowledge - even as you go through the motions of your daily routine and head to work.

By the evening you are more phlegmatic about the situation. Your spirit dampened, yes, but not crushed. You feel an immense sense of privilege that conflict is not yet at your doorstep, but equally knowing being in the capital city of a nation that just declared war against a neighbouring country is not exactly safe.

You and Eloise splash out on dinner at an upscale brassiere that night, one you have both passed and commented you’d love to dine in some time. Both of you seized by the unspoken “what if”, the previous reluctance to treat yourselves entirely absent.

Talk on all the tables around you as you dine - on heavenly butter-soft steak - is about the war. What it could mean for Paris, fear of another major European conflict so soon after the last, the economic concerns - the bite of the early 30s depression just relinquishing its hostile grip on the somewhat bruised denizens.

Afterwards, you wander the cobbled streets back to your apartment, arms looped, bellies full, occasionally staring up at the starry night sky in mostly contemplative, sober silence. It’s a beautiful evening, but something in the warm breeze feels melancholic.

When you open the door to your building, Solène is waiting, rocking on her heels.

“Eloise, a telegram has come for you!” she announces, shoving a piece of paper into her hand. “And a telephone call from England earlier,” she adds, gesturing to the black rotary phone outside her place—the only one in the building.

Eloise gives you a brief glance and then opens the message. You watch her eyes ping across the text before her shoulders slump.

“My mother,” she sighs in explanation, “it appears she is summoning me back home.”

“What?!” the selfish reflex of not wanting to be left alone is the first thing flaring in you.

“It’s not fair!” she whines in a flash of child-like defiance before continuing in a more subdued tone. “She is sending my brother to come get me. She doesn’t specify which, but seeing as Anthony is a Lieutenant General in the Army and has likely been called to Churchill’s side, I'm presuming Benedict,” Eloise surmises. 

Your thoughts instantly fly to that painting hanging in your apartment upstairs. A strange flutter under your ribs at the idea you could be about to meet its creator. Quickly followed by a wash of guilt that you could even focus on such a frivolous thing.

“What will I do without you?’’ You fret aloud, grasping her arm tighter.

“There was a call for you too, y/n,” Solène pipes up. “Your father wants you to exchange your return ticket for a sailing home as soon as possible,” she relays.

“But.. I just got here!” your lament as defiant as Eloise’s. A frustrating sense you are losing a fleeting opportunity you already hold so precious - like a new toy being ripped from the meaty fist of a truculent toddler.

“Mes amis, what can I say?” that trademark Gallic shrug seizing Solène’s shoulders. “While Paris is safe for now, we do not know how much longer that will hold true… it is likely best you return home. Perhaps this will be over in weeks, and you can return?”

You know your parents have paid your rent upfront for a whole year, likely similar for Eloise, your landlady not impacted financially by your leaving, merely a wish for you to enjoy your Parisian adventures.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and wander in, both of you sigh; the illumination from the Eiffel Tower that refracts upon your window pane just adds to your melancholia, a sight that before had never failed to warm your heart.

“When will your brother get here?” your inflection dull.

“Tomorrow, most likely. It only takes a couple of hours to cross the Channel, and as you know, the train ride from the coast is just a few more. I expect he’ll be waiting for me right here when I return from work,” her tone is just as flat as yours.

You want to ask if she will pack tonight, but you stop yourself, seeing the flame that usually burns so bright behind her blue eyes dimmed. Wordlessly, you draw closer and pull her into a firm hug.

“I will miss you like a sister,” she whispers into your hair, returning the embrace just as fiercely, “maybe moreso.”

You nod and band your arms tighter briefly before letting go, bone-deep exhaustion overtaking anything else you see in her mirrored stance.

The last thing that captures your eye as Eloise turns to her room is that painting of her childhood home and, strangely, how it feels closer now than ever before.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[helluvatimes]

Pink Latte

Dahlia ‘Cafe Au Lait Rose’ blooming in the Flower Dome. Photo credit: Jonathan Chua.

This is what the name of this dahlia, when translated, seems to mean.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

Today I'd like to show all the Thoughts that we encountered in the game, but didn't end up Internalizing. I think that the more you see of these, the more of a complete picture you get of Harry.

GUILLAUME LE MILLION

Temporary research bonus: -1 Logic: Head in the clouds

PROBLEM:

Whatever happened to Guillaume Le Million, who -- with his amber mane and sparkling teeth -- beguiled the tattered remains of the nation? While you suffered and suffered, did he dematerialize in a cloud of cocaine dust? Or did he simply stand in the corner and melt into the slendering *New* lines of some starlit boîte de nuit twenty years ago? Spare a thought for his great ass too! Or wait... maybe he became a police officer in Revachol West! Hmm...

Completion bonuses: +1 Pain Threshold: Blood oxygen is boring All PSY learning caps raised by one

SOLUTION:

Bad news: Guillaume le Million did not become a cop. In '38 he went on a tour to the Hsin-Yao province in Safre, where he died of auto-erotic asphyxiation. His body was found hanging from a decorative dragon tree in his junior suite, amid drug paraphernalia, unwholesome objects, and the Sylvia Trainor single "Wonderland" skipping in the background. And yes, you can take this as a metaphor for Revachol in the Thirties. And also as a warning.

DETECTIVE COSTEAU

Temporary research bonus: -2 Conceptualization: An idiotic idea

PROBLEM:

Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau -- when you say it, it feels like you're taking a bite of lemon meringue while sitting on the terrace of a seaside cafe. On a cool summer day. In Sur-La-Clef. It's everything you're *not*. You haven't created many things during your stay in Martinaise, but you've created this. A fancy, sophisticated name that makes you sound intelligent. And that no one seems to *acknowledge*. Don't you feel like you deserve a reward for coming up with something so special? And what would that reward *be*?

Completion bonuses: +1 Savoir Faire: This one sounds fancy, let's have this +1 Esprit de Corps: Yup, fancy, let's have this one too

SOLUTION:

Monsieur Costeau, the reward for coming up with your classy new name has arrived. What are the attributes Detective Costeau should gain in? *Obviously* Savoir Faire and Esprit de Corps. You know *exactly* what they do and what those words mean. They're *refined*. Like *you*. You have a ton of that fancy stuff. And if the world can't accept Raphaël Ambrosius is your name -- you will always be Detective Costeau to yourself. R.A. Costeau -- sophisticated culture-detective. Specializes in ancient things and art.

BOIADEIRO

Temporary research bonus: -1 Physical Instrument: Astra Country

PROBLEM:

It has been brought to your attention that there are men who live by the law of the land and the strength of their arms. Sunburnt, rugged, smoking men who explored the great rivery veins of upper-Magritte and tamed the Mundi wilds. Frontiersmen, cow-herders, philosophers -- the *boiadeiros*... with a gun in one hand and an unfiltered cigarette between their lips, these men made their own rules. What would it take for you to become one too?

Completion bonuses: -1 Esprit de Corps: Lone wolf Cigarettes give +2 INT

SOLUTION:

Smoking, Harry. It will take a lot of tobacco-smoking for you to become a *boiadeiro*. Twin cigarettes fused to your lips and one hanging out of your nostril. In these tame, cultured times, without the sky’s dome above your head, the only way to be a true Franconigerian individualist is to smoke a lot of cigarettes. Light one up immediately. The smell of coffee brewing over a fire pit, a chestnut-flavoured morning. Welcome to Astra Country.

I'm not sure we ever actually encountered cigarettes in the course of our playthrough. Normally, they give +1 INT at the cost of 1 Health -- this improves the effect.

MAGNESIUM-BASED LIFEFORM

Temporary research bonus: -1 Shivers: No shakes

PROBLEM:

It is generally understood that human beings are carbon-based organisms, fusing little carbon tubes together to form complex, mushy structures capable of thought, love, and locomotion. It is also known that these structures sometimes like to “take the edge off” by consuming ethanol, amphetamine, etc. In such cases, it is important to supplement your body with magnesium. Tired? Mag it! Down? Mag time! Liver damage? MAXIMUM MAG! Some people say magnesium doesn’t really do anything and you just need to quit. What do we tell them?

Completion bonuses: +2 Volition: Magnesium receptacle glands -1 Logic: No such thing, man

SOLUTION:

We tell them: HELL NO. You’re about to become a magnesium-based lifeform. The age of the primitive carbon-man is done. No longer must mankind rely on slow-working background radiation to take us further into our genetic destiny. This is the era of guided evolution, and magnesium is the key. You are the first of your species. The next step in human evolution. An advanced magnesium proto-man who mags it up, drinks it down, and sniffs it sideways!

A pretty useful Thought if you have low PSY.

BRINGING OF THE LAW (LAW-JAW)

Temporary research bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Weird jaw

PROBLEM:

Hey, so a little observation. It's all cool, man. Don't freak out, but every time you say “I am the law“ -- and you say it *a lot*, it's basically *hello* for you -- your jaw does this *weird thing*. It sort of shifts sideways, hanging off your face at a jaunty angle, while the word *law* sounds oddly guttural and low. It's... strange. You wouldn't notice it, but after saying you're the law eighty thousand times, the question *does* come up: why *do* you have Law Jaw?

Completion bonuses: Learning cap for Hand/Eye Coordination raised to 6 Succeed all Hand/Eye Coordination passives -1 Rhetoric: Jaw still weird

SOLUTION:

Okay, so. We now know why you have *Law Jaw*. Why you say *the law* in a weird manner, and why your jaw does that thing. You had polio as a child. You hadn’t gotten vaccinated. It must've been right after the Revolution -- not a lot of vaccine going around then. So you got infantile paralysis due to polio and this jaw thing is a complication from that. Admittedly, it’s not very funny. But you *overcame* it! This little infant survived and became a sharpshooting supercop. So: fuck you, polio!

This is a pretty useful Thought *and* it tells us something, in my opinion, pretty important about Harry.

ANTI-OBJECT TASK FORCE

Temporary research bonus: -2 Pain Threshold: Hurts!

PROBLEM:

Take a look at your hands. See how bruised they are? See those little scars? This is Exhibit A. The material world is holding you back. Containers, mailboxes, doors, chairs -- they are all your enemies. Always have been. Atoms themselves are in on the conspiracy, forming shapes and structures that you hate. You are energy stuck in a body. You are spirit trapped in matter. Break free! Beat up that lamp post! Let it know just how much objects *suck*.

Completion bonuses: Attacking physical objects heals damage +1 Pain Threshold: Thick skin All FYS learning caps raised by one

SOLUTION:

Behold: the Anti-Object Task Force has assembled. God's avenging angel, arrayed against the lower emanations of the Darkened One: shoe racks, tape recorders, motor carriages. And doors. So many doors. You're not just pounding it all to pieces. You’re *reforging* the universe. From the anvil of the heavens to the worms below. Indulge in it. Be bold. Have an *impact* on the shape of Creation. Out of the furnace of your rage -- a new reality! Also, you should trash your room *again*.

The first bonus here is not as useful as it sounds, because by the time you unlock this Thought, you'll have already been through most of the attackable things in the game. The rest is still pretty good, though.

DATE OF BIRTH GENERATOR

Temporary research bonus: None

PROBLEM:

Your face looks like it’s 58 and your body feels like it’s 60. Your mind feels like it’s lived for one day or a hundred. Both longer than they ought to be, the day and the century.... But for how long, then, has this thing attached to your sentience walked the planet’s crust? Time to start racking those brains of yours, Elder One. When and where were you born?

Completion bonuses: Learning cap for Logic raised to 4 -1 difficulty to all Physique passives

SOLUTION:

You were born in the year ‘07, in the last year of the Commune of Revachol, right before it fell. In the Old Military Hospital, on the ground floor where people usually came to die, during a snowstorm. The Revolution had about one year left to go and the fires were still burning bright. There were explosions in the blizzard. This was 44 years ago. You are 44 years old. The bloating might never leave your face, but beneath it -- you still have some years. You still have some hope.

I believe you can talk about this with Kim once you have the answer.

ARNO VAN EYCK

Temporary research bonus: +1 Interfacing

PROBLEM:

The question won’t leave you – why did the melody line from a broken and discarded tape fit perfectly into a song played by some speedfreaks in a frozen tent? Can it be a coincidence? Maybe it’s the hand of the Man-Machine himself, in his attempt to craft a perfect song. Maybe Egg Head is actually Arno van Eyck in disguise!? Eyck? Egg? Hmm...

Completion bonuses: All white Motorics checks unlocked Reveals Arno Van Eyck gig posters in the world

SOLUTION:

Okay, so Egg Head is clearly not Van Eyck in disguise. Van Eyck is an Oranjese disc jockey -- but those people get around. Especially in Revachol, in the clubs on Boogie Street. Perhaps he stayed here for a short stint and discarded part of the song he was working on. Just threw it away. And then it ended up in the hawthorn tree. But why? Did he think it was *retrograde*? It wasn’t. Perhaps he caught a glimpse of the future and did not want for it to arrive just yet. Perhaps the city whispered the topline to him and he was frightened by it?

We've seen variations on this one before for other skill categories. The Arno Van Eyck posters give you additional orbs to click, which synergises nicely with Jamais Vu.

Egg Head also directly told us that his name was in reference to Van Eyck at one point, so that was not really much of a mystery.

SEARCHLIGHT DIVISION

Temporary research bonus: None

PROBLEM:

Missing persons cases just really get to you. It's hard watching people worry about their loved ones – the little nervous movements, the dark rings around their eyes from sleepless nights. And even if there are no loved ones waiting – you like to have all your ducks in a row, and it really bothers you when whole entire people aren't accounted for.

Completion bonus: +2 Perception: Clear-eyed pursuit of truth

SOLUTION:

You've sharpened your senses by being on the lookout for missing persons. Now you notice more of what's happening around you. Perhaps when you're done with this case, you can join the Searchlight Division of the RCM, and find every Revacholian that's ever gone missing without a trace (there is undoubtedly a backlog of such cases). Because you never know, a missing person could be just around the edge, barely out of sight.

ONE MORE DOOR

Temporary research bonus: +1 Half Light: What is behind it?

PROBLEM:

God dammit, it cannot be. A disgrace! That door on the coast... you remember the one, right? The one that leads to the abandoned supply depot? Why, in the name of all that's holy, does it not open? *Why*?! There *has* to be a way to get through that unopenable door. By gods, you're the police -- all doors are supposed to open before you. What will the others at the precinct think if you can't open a goddamn door? There must be a way.

Completion bonuses: -1 Half Light: No fear All PSY white checks unlocked

SOLUTION:

There is no way to open the supply depot door. Accept it. You cannot open *all the doors*. You have to integrate this into your character. Some doors will forever remain closed. Even if every single other door will open at one time or another, maybe to a key, or maybe to some sort of tool meant for opening doors... But this one will never accede to such commands. A realization crucial to personal growth. Crucial.

There will always be one more door.

HARDCORE AESTHETIC

Temporary research bonus: -2 Interfacing: Fuck grammar!

PROBLEM:

Not only have you internalized the Hard Core Aesthetic, you’ve also *contributed* to it. How harder-core could you possibly become? Low-core people come around you to correct your “typos”: it’s “Hardcore” here, “hard-core” there, “Hardorcore” in a third instant -- what’s going on? Those aren’t typos, man, that’s how core hardness works. If you don’t know “hard-core” from “Our Happy Hardcore,” what the fuck are we even talking about?

Completion bonuses: +1 Endurance: Really useful for doing drugs +1 Volition: Same thing, Hardman

SOLUTION:

Oh yes. Drugs. We’re talking about drugs. Let’s face it, these flirtations with the Hard Core Aesthetic have all been leading up to one question: Can I do drugs *harder* now that I’m a Hard Cop? And the answer is: yes. You can. You can do one more blast of pyrholidon and yellow shit-powder, you can even pull a ciggie and a lager on top of that. There. You’ve *truly* made the Hardcore your own thing now.

Despite what it says on the tin, this actually just gives you more health.

THE INSULINDIAN MIRACLE

Temporary research bonus: None

PROBLEM:

You were reminded of a poem, somewhere deep inside you, the translation of which you don't remember… "Nulla sarà cambiato della luce!” it begins. “Colori come grigio e marrone / Tutti stampati uno sull’altro / Trovai un vuoto / Una macchia Bianca / Gli altri guardarono / “Che bella giornata! Che bel tempo!” / Ma sentii la rotativa." You were reminded of it when you heard about the discovery of Insulinde. But what does it mean? And how do you know it by heart?

Completion bonuses: All white checks unlocked

SOLUTION:

It’s easy. You know the poem by heart because you were taught it at school. It is one of the Volta do Mar mantras repeated on the voyage that lead to the discovery of the Insulindian isola. And the words mean: “Nothing will be changed about the light! / Colours like grey and brown / All printed on top of each other / I found a blank white spot / All the others looked up: / ‘What a beautiful day! What beautiful weather!’ / But all I heard was the printing machine." What strange words to celebrate a new world.

You can only unlock this Thought when talking with Joyce after the confrontation with Ruby, making it a really useful tool if you have anything left to do in the game at that point.

And that's all the Thoughts that we encountered in our playthrough, aside from the ones we already saw in the game proper. We did also *technically* get to the point where we could have seen the Thoughts for the moralist and ultraliberal political alignments, even if we chose not to opt into them. So, I'll show those too:

KINGDOM OF CONSCIENCE

Temporary research bonus: -2 Half Light: Calm water

PROBLEM:

Heartache is powerful, but democracy is *subtle*. Incrementally, you begin to notice a change in the weather. When it snows, the flakes are softer when they stick to your worry-worn forehead. When it rains, the rain is warmer. Democracy is coming to the Administrative Region. The ideals of Dolorian humanism are reinstating themselves. How can they not? These are the ideals of the Coalition and the Moralist International. Those guys are signal blue. And they're not only good -- they're also powerful. What will it be like, once their nuanced plans have been realized?

Completion bonuses: Moralist dialogue heals 1 Morale Learning cap for Volition raised to 5 Learning cap for Logic raised to 5

SOLUTION:

The Kingdom of Conscience will be exactly as it is now. Moralists don't really *have* beliefs. Sometimes they stumble on one, like on a child's toy left on the carpet. The toy must be put away immediately. And the child reprimanded. Centrism isn't change -- not even incremental change. It is *control*. Over yourself and the world. Exercise it. Look up at the sky, at the dark shapes of Coalition airships hanging there. Ask yourself: is there something sinister in moralism? And then answer: no. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

INDIRECT MODES OF TAXATION

Temporary research bonus: -2 Empathy: Cold blooded

PROBLEM:

First, if you have a side-bitch ideology cooking somewhere, don't sweat it. Fightin' indirect taxation for the Gossamer State is compatible with *all* creeds. It's cool like that. You're a cool anarchist now. Unless you don't want to be an anarchist. Whatever! Stuff this meal ticket in your eye-socket and let's see if we can steal some *love* back from the robber barons at the customs agency and the *banditos* at The Insulindian Financial Oversight and Competition Committee.

Completion bonuses: -1 Empathy: Thinks he's a hustler or something Ultraliberal dialogue options give +1 real

SOLUTION:

Turns out those Financial Oversight Committee gangsters stuffed millions of hard-earned dividends away in the last place anyone thought to look: the hearts and minds of everyday Revacholians! You need to spread that deregulation gospel to the *people*. Tell them about that foreign fare tax. Preach that 98% gross burden. Preach it, preacher man! Set the brothas free. Taxes are racist.

Even with those, there are still *eighteen* Thoughts remaining in the game that we didn't encounter - either because we didn't have high enough stats, didn't pick the right dialogue options, or chose not to put any points into fascism. Some of them are mutually exclusive with Thoughts we did pick, some require *really complicated* methods to find. A few of them give us some more interesting backstory on Harry and Kim that's worth hearing -- but I'll let you uncover that on your own time.

[joelalorian]

Whisked Away

Dave York x f!reader | WC: 3200+ | Masterlist

Summary: Dave York is full of surprises. A secret getaway leads to the next step in your life with Dave. A follow-up to my one-shot Blown Away, but could be read as a standalone.

My contribution to @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs Creative Challenge.

No warnings for this one - it's pretty tame with some humor, fluff, and a teensy bit of angst. No use of y/n. Reader is pretty much a blank slate with hair.

Sunlight reflected off the crystal blue waters as the small plane descended over the luxury resort town. Your mouth dropped open at the view.  

“Welcome to Secret Springs,” the pilot announced over the radio. “The best-kept secret this side of the Rockies. Hope you all enjoy your stay.”

Dave refused to tell you a thing about this surprise getaway to celebrate your first anniversary together, the only information he offered limited to advice on what to pack. Even in your wildest dreams, you didn’t expect a trip to somewhere so extravagant.

Quaint like Cape Cod, the town was rich with culture and life, an air of money and vibrant excitement wafting through town the moment you stepped out of the airport. Artisanal shops and cafes lined both sides of the cobblestone street, the hired driver pointing out his favorite spots to recommend. Dave nodded in response to the recommendations he agreed with – apparently, he did a lot of preparation for this little getaway.

Your mouth dropped open again when the car pulled up in front of a stately inn, the wrap around porch and beautiful awnings restored to its once historical perfection. “Dave,” you breathed in astonishment as you walked inside, eyes widening at the silver leaf domed ceiling and hand carved wooden grand staircase. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, placing a kiss on the crown of your head after slipping the attendant a tip for taking care of your luggage. “This is exactly enough. Come on.” His handsome face split into a cheeky grin.

A weight had lifted from Dave’s shoulders after he quit the DIA and the contract work. Now, there was a bounce to his step and a brightness to his burnt umber eyes. You smiled lovingly watching him stride to the concierge and followed as Dave led you up the grand staircase to your third-floor suite. Good thing the attendant took care of the luggage for you both – there was no elevator in this historical treasure.

Breath once again stolen from your lungs, you shuffled into the large room, eyes taking in every little detail from the ornate, mahogany four-post bed to the clawfoot tub to the bay windows overlooking the lush landscape below. You could just see the water sparkling in the sunshine in the distance. The room was resplendent in antique furnishings, and, certain you’d never stayed anywhere quite so beautiful, you hesitated to touch anything for fear of breaking something priceless.

Flopping back onto the plush mattress, you giggled when Dave plopped down on his side next to you. Right arm bent to support his head, he stared down at you with those soulful puppy eyes, a smile curving his pouty lips.

“Did I make you happy?�� Dave asked, fingertips blazing a gentle path down the side of your face.

“You always make me happy, Dave,” you replied in a soft voice. “But, right now, I’m downright euphoric.”

Chuckling, Dave leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm,” you giggled, pulling his face close for another kiss, this one deeper and sweeter, stoking the fire building inside you. “I think I should show you special thanks for making me delirious with happiness.”

“I like the sound of that,” his voice rumbled from deep within his chest as he pulled you up from the bed. “Let’s test out that tub before dinner.”

Filled with hot water and copious amounts of bubbles, the clawfoot tub was a luxury you wished you could take home with you when this trip ended. More than large enough for two, you could spend all night in there cuddled against Dave’s chest with his arms wrapped around you. Lovely and romantic, it gave honeymoon vibes, and, not for the first time, you wondered what it would be like to be married to Dave, though you dared not mention if for fear of scaring him away. During your time together, you got the sense he didn’t want to get married again, though he never explicitly said so.

Your vivid dreams and imagination pictured lazy afternoons, sketching him and the girls in your book as they played together in the yard, trips to the park and the mall, holidays full of merriment, maybe even a dog. A large, fluffy thing always happy to see you and chase the girls around the yard.

You pictured a house in the mountains, exchanging suits and dress skirts for jeans and hiking boots at the end of the day. Taking long hikes on the weekends. Romantic candlelight dinners on the patio during the weeks the girls were at Carol’s.

There would be the usual responsibilities like work and school and bills and… but you shook that reality away in favor of focusing on the happiness and love of being together, of coming together and changing each other’s lives the way that you did.

It was a pretty picture.

Your fingers itched to draw it.

Your heart longed to live it.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” Dave questioned after a period of prolonged silence. He always read you so well.

“Hmmm,” you hummed,” just imagining the future.”

His broad body practically engulfed you as his arms tightened. “Tell me,” Dave’s voice purred in your ear, a command you could not deny. So, heart in your throat, you told him all the precious things you imagined while he nuzzled into your neck. When you finished, he peppered kisses across your shoulders. “Is that what you want? A life with me and the girls?”

The moment of truth… and you froze. Dave’s tone gave nothing away. Terrified of rejection, however soft he was with you, you merely hummed noncommittally.

Dave chuckled warmly. “Mmhmm, I get it. We haven’t talked about the future yet and you don’t want to get hurt if I don’t want the same things as you,” he murmured, hot breath in your ear causing a wave of gooseflesh across your skin. He was too good at getting right to the heart of the matter.

“I’ll go first, then. Ok?” he asked, placing a kiss on the tender flesh right beneath your ear. “That is the life I want… with you. Getting married and living somewhere exactly like this, spending our lives together in a quaint town with lots to do and see, watching the girls grow up and flourish. In fact, I can’t think of anything I want more.”

“Really? That’s what you want?” Turning your head, you saw him nod reassuringly. “It’s just… you always made it seem like you didn’t want to get married again.”

A laugh slipped past his lips before he could stop it and your shoulders hunched in dejection. “No, sweetheart…” his arms tightened around you until your skin practically melded together. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

Part of you didn’t believe him, your breath catching in your throat as he tried to explain himself.

“My life was so different before I met you, sweetheart. I didn’t think finding love again was possible, not the way that I lost myself in the darkness of the contract work. Carol and I had been together so long, it was comfortable, but not romantic, not like it used to be. I thought I’d never have that again, so I put it from my mind.”

Dave’s thick fingers grazed across your skin as he spoke.

“I fell for you fast and hard, and if I’m being honest, it scared me a little. I couldn’t bring you into my life the way it was – it would have been unfair to you. It was already unfair to Carol and the girls… I couldn’t tell her everything, that’s part of why Carol wanted a divorce. I found myself wanting to tell you everything, to be a better man for you and the girls.”

“Dave—” He cut you off to continue his train of thought.

“Without realizing it, you gave me a reason to quit that life and all the things that made me unhappy,” he said, strong arms turned you to face him. His dark eyes glistened in the low light of the bathroom. “The past year has been amazing and I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you how seriously I take what we have. I do want to get married again… to you. And only to you. When you’re ready.”

Tears leaked from your eyes, mixing with the tiny droplets of water still falling from your wet hair. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I’m glad we want the same things,” you said, voice rough from fighting back the tears for so long.

“Me, too. I love you, sweetheart.” Dave kissed you deeply then, teasing his tongue into your mouth. When he finally pulled back, he added, “I have another surprise to show you after dinner. After this conversation, I’m certain you’ll love it.”

“Just how many surprises have you been hiding from me?” you questioned with a grin.

“Just this last one, I promise.”

“I love you, Dave York.”

Dinner consisted of exquisite, tapas-style portions of tuna tartare, pan-seared scallops, mini beef wellingtons, and a few other delicacies cooked to perfection. Savory flavors burst across your palette with each bite. You didn’t want the culinary experience to end, especially when dessert included the most decadent chocolate mousse concoction that nearly had you orgasming at the table.

Appetites sated and senses dulled by a heady wine buzz, Dave escorted you down the sidewalk along the main street, your hands clasped with fingers entwined. The evening air was warm and dry without being oppressive, a gentle breeze tickling your skin and rustling your hair as you walked.

“I love you,” you blurted happily, feelings for this amazing man suddenly overwhelming, especially after your confessions earlier and the romantic dinner you just shared. His grip tightened around your hand as his lips curled up into a smile. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Could this evening get any better? Could this life you were building together get any better? You didn’t think so.

Dave slowed to a stop in front of an empty store front. “Here we are.”

Confused, you glanced around, searching for evidence of the surprise he told you about. All you saw were dark, empty windows and a tinted glass door giving nothing away. Seeing your bewildered expression, Dave stepped back towards the cobblestone street, pulling you with him, and pointed upward.

An artful marquee sparkled brightly above you, finally cluing you in to what he wanted you to see. “Whisked Away Art Gallery,” you read aloud in a shaky voice, “very whimsical.” After a moment, you turned to Dave with wide, wondrous eyes. “What is this?”

His resulting grin and excited, warm eyes melted your heart. “This is your art gallery, sweetheart.”

You gulped. Did you hear that right? Surely not. “Mine?” you questioned. “What do you mean my art gallery?”

Smile never dropping, Dave motioned you to follow him as he unlocked the door and led you inside, one hand reaching out to flick the lights on.

“I bought it, for you. It’s yours, baby. You can display your work and that of any other artists you chose. It’s time you shared your work with the world. It’s too good to keep hidden in that sketchbook of yours.”

His words washed over you without absorbing into your bewildered brain. Too fixated on staring around the large, empty space with your mouth open, imagination running wild as you envisioned various pieces artfully displayed on the walls. Shaking your head, you asked him to repeat what he said. You couldn’t believe it.

“But… how? I mean, it must have cost a fortune in a town like this. And how am I meant to—”

Pressing a thick finger to your lips, Dave cut off your impending spiral. “Remember that future we talked about earlier? This is the next step in building the life we want. You fell in love with this town as quickly and deeply as you fell in love with me. That’s gotta be a sign, right? This town was meant for us.”

You melted against his chest. How did he always know exactly what to say to you?

“You want to live here in Secret Springs? Together?” You spoke into Dave’s neck, lips grazing the skin.

“I know we haven’t talked about officially moving in together, but we’re always together at your place or mine. I thought maybe it’s time to take the next step,” he explained. A moment later, he hesitantly added, “Would you like that?”

You leant back, placing your hands on either side of Dave’s face, and stared directly into his beautiful brown eyes. “I would love that. A life with you is all I want.” You kissed him, letting your lips convey the depth of your feelings, your happiness instead of your words.

The world around you disappeared as Dave gave in fully to the kiss, the coil inside your core tightening with each playful stroke of his tongue against yours. At the first moan that slipped past your lips into Dave’s mouth, he pulled back, eyes full of lust and breathing heavily.

“Let’s get back to the inn, sweetheart. I have an idea on how we can celebrate taking the next step in our relationship.” Without waiting for a response, Dave grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the gallery, stopping only long enough to lock the door behind him.

The inn wasn’t far, conveniently located in the heart of the small town, but the journey back still took too long for your liking. Your need for Dave nearly overwhelmed you when he tugged you through the front door of the inn and up the three flights of stairs, all the while ignoring greetings from the staff and other guests. He was a man on a mission.

The door to the suite barely clicked shut before Dave pounced. He left a trail of searing, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and along the bare skin of your shoulders, slipping the thin straps of your dress down your arms. Dexterous fingers pulled the zipper down as his mouth blazed a trail of kisses right behind the falling fabric.

Dave stepped back when you stood before him in nothing but a pair of black, lacy panties. “Damn, baby,” he breathed, dark eyes burning with desire as he drank in the sight of you. Pointing to the large, cushioned ottoman near the antique settee, Dave added, “Face down and ass up on the ottoman, sweetheart.”

Later that night, you laid in bed with your head resting on Dave’s chest, one ear pressed to his skin listening to his heart thump. Having forgotten to close the curtains earlier, moonlight danced across the room from the bay windows. You loved the ethereal glow it left on yours and Dave’s skin.

“Dave?” you asked, lifting your head to rest your chin on his chest. Head resting on a pillow propped against the wooden headboard, he peeked at you with sleepy eyes.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” You felt more than heard his response, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest.

A million questions swirled in your brain from the conversation earlier, but where did you start?

“How were you able to buy the gallery? It had to be expensive in such a hidden gem like Secret Springs.”

With a yawn, Dave ran a hand over his face before smoothing it down your back. “I, uh, made a lot of money doing that contract work. That’s why the boys and I started doing it to begin with – to support ourselves and our families when the military kicked us to the wayside. It turned out to be more lucrative than any of us expected. I made more than enough to make sure the girls are taken care of and build our new life together.”

He paused, giving you the opportunity to ask for specifics if you felt the need, but you didn’t. You knew enough of the man he used to be and the things he thought he had to do to give Carol and the girls a life worth living. He wasn’t proud of the things he had to do to survive, but at least he did them with good intentions.

“Besides, it wasn’t nearly as expensive as you might think. I am a very thorough negotiator.” Dave smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“What about the girls?” you questioned.

“What about them?” he returned with furrowed brows.

“Won’t we be too far from them to keep the visitation the way it is? I don’t want you to miss out on any time with them, not with how fast they’re growing up.”

This was probably your biggest concern. You didn’t want Dave to regret any moves he made with you if they impacted his relationship with his girls. A truly devoted father, he loved Alice and Molly to pieces, and you refused to be an impediment to that.

Silence filled the air like static and you panicked for a moment. Was this the moment he realized being with you, starting a new life would cost him too much in terms of time with his girls?

Dave shifted down the bed until your bodies curled together from head to toe and his dark eyes stared into your worried gaze.

“Stop worrying, sweetheart,” he said, his deep voice gentle and smooth. “It will all work out, I promise. Carol was offered a promotion with a relocation; her new office will be in the next town over. Believe it or not, she’s the one who told me about this place and set all this in motion.”

You beamed at him. “Funny how things work out, isn’t it?” You couldn’t help the ‘what if’ thought of what would have happened if you weren’t both ready to move into together? Would you have tried long distance?

Looking at you with a gooey warmth in his eyes, Dave kissed your lips. “I know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Stop worrying. Everything is working out just as it is meant to. Don’t waste energy thinking about the what ifs. Besides, if things didn’t work out like this, I would have figured out another way to have you with me wherever life took me.”

Tears sprang to your eyes unbidden. You couldn’t help it. Strong feelings always made you cry, and you felt such overwhelming love for Dave in that moment, fighting back the tears would have been a complete waste of time.

“Baby,” Dave cooed, pulling you impossibly closer, worried about your tears.

“They’re happy tears, I promise,” you blubbered, the tears only coming faster as you added, “I’m just so in love with you.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m so in love with you, too. It would really suck if I was in this on my own,” he teased, one hand cradling your as he pressed his lips to yours in a watery kiss.

“Are we really going to live in this amazing town?” you asked a little while later after the overwhelming emotions settled.

“As soon as we find the perfect house. Speaking of, I talked to a realtor, and we have a few lined up to see the day after tomorrow.”

How was this your life?

Exhaustion finally took over and you dreamt of finding the perfect house and building a life in this beautiful paradise.

fin

[newrulesnewlife]

Stamping my feet in a cafe because the book I'm reading (Victoriocity: High Vaultage) mentions Brunelleschi's Dome.

[losfacedevil]

Sovereign Light Cafe // JTK

a/n~ The long awaited Barista Jake is finally here! This was a Valentines request by my love @silks-up-my-sleeve - I hope I’ve done this Jake justice!

A sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he dropped another plastic lid to the floor, kicking it underneath the counter he stood behind. He rolled his eyes and reached for another lid, securing it onto the to go cup before sliding the beverage onto the pick up rack. His eyes danced over the setting Sun in the distance, closing time finally creeping up the horizon.

“Long day, Jay-Jay?” His partner in crime chirped. Jake turned his attention to the petite red head to his left, watching as she sipped happily on the milkshake he had made her a few minutes prior. He rolled his eyes and turned on his heel, leaning back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“These doubles are for the birds. Five am to Seven pm and I have to do it all again tomorrow.” He groaned, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face. Sunny nodded, placing her milkshake down on the counter and wiped her hands on her apron, turning her attention to the girl walking through the door. Jake glanced over his shoulder and a soft smile spread across his lips as his eyes landed on you. Spinning on his heel he got to quick work of making your iced coffee.

“Hey Sun? Looks like I need more whip - would you mind running in the back to grab me some?” Jake mumbled, turning his attention to Sunny quickly. The smaller girl nodded and jogged into the back room as you approached the counter. Jakes gaze caught yours as you raised an eyebrow and nodded in Sunny’s direction.

“Bathroom breaks at the worst possible time.” He chuckled, sticking a spoon into the coffee cup in front of him and stirred. You watched him closely, taking note of just how careful he was every time he prepared a drink. Cocking your head to the side you stepped up to the counter, leaning on your hands as you waited for Sunny to return to her post.

“It’s a bit late to see you here though, isn’t it?” He joked, shaking the can of whipped cream he held and sprayed a decent amount on the top of the coffee in front of him.

“Late night study date with my laptop and textbooks, I need the proper fuel.” You giggled, watching closely as he popped a domed lid on top of the drink and slid it across the pick up station with a cheeky wink.

“Large ice, two shots of espresso, as much mocha as your heart desires and what is it you say? A fuck ton of whip.” He chuckled, leaning back against the small hand washing sink behind him, his arms crossed over his chest. A soft smile spread across your face as your eyes landed on the coffee now sat on the plastic shelving.

“How’d you… can I?” You tripped over your words, pointing at the cash register, a quiet request to pay. Jake shook his head and place a finger to his lips before making a ‘shoo’ motion with his other hand.

“It’s on the house, just don’t get us caught. Happy studying.” He chuckled, pushing himself off of the sink and slowly busied himself with the clean up tasks at hand. You couldn’t help the way your bottom lip found a home tucked safely between your teeth as you reached out and scooped the coffee up off of the stand.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You cooed, waving over your shoulder as you made your way out of the coffee shop.

Sunny pushed her way out of the back into the bar, a carton of cool whip held in her hand. Her eyes danced across the now empty dining room area and her brown quirked, wondering where you had gotten off to.

“All we have is cool whip I’ll have to tell mom, but… where’d your friend go?” She asked, eyeing Jake suspiciously. He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way, glancing up to see you drive past the big storefront window.

“She was looking for her textbook, thought she left it in the booth but it’s nowhere to be found.” Jake mumbled, tossing the spoon he had used into the sink behind him. Sunny made a face, crossing her arms over her chest and began to tap her foot against the ground.

“Really? Then why are you cleaning up? I thought you were done with the closing duties?” She quipped, taking a step forward to see the coffee he had set aside for himself was gone.

“Spilled the coffee I was gonna make myself like a dumbass.” She nodded her head, not fully buying the story he was selling before turning on her heel and popped open the cash sales drawer to lock up for the night.

~*~*~

A yawn escaped Jake as he fumbled with the set of keys in his hand. He stared at them pointedly, trying to figure out why he couldn’t find his shop key when it clicked in his head. Those are your car keys dipshit. A defeated huff sounded from his throat as he shoved his hand down into the depths of his cargo pants pocket, fishing for the smaller set of keys he knew he had tossed in there this morning. The sound of a car approaching behind him shook him from his angsty delve into his pocket and he looked up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ears.

“Sun to the rescue.” He sighed, ceasing the struggle to find his shop keys amongst the change, hair ties and chapsticks that lived deep in his pockets. Sunny eyed him carefully as she got out of her car, taking in the wrinkled shirt and his disheveled hair hanging loosely around his shoulders, seemingly not been touched since he left the shop last night.

“Rough night, Jay?” She called, locking up her vehicle and slowly made her way over to where he stood. She fumbled with her keys for a second before producing the shop key and unlocked the door, letting Jake in first.

“Dude, I took a shower as soon as I got home and the next thing I knew my alarm was screaming at me to get up. I didn’t eat dinner, didn’t do my daily chores. I don’t know what happened.” Jake sighed, tossing his messenger bag down on the table closest to the door. Sunny nodded and reached up, placing her hands on both of his shoulders and pushed, forcing the boy to sit in the booth in front of him.

“You look like who did it and ran, where’s your brush?” She asked, holding her hand out next to his head. Jake dug around in his bag briefly and pulled out a hair brush that had seen its better days. Sunny couldn’t help but giggle as she took it off of him and pointed to her own bag.

“Find the spray bottle and little elastics in that mess I call a bag please.” Jake made quick work of pulling out the two things he was always prompted to find and held the spray bottle up to Sunny’s waiting hand.

His eyes fluttered shut as she made quick work of detangling his hair and quickly swooped the strands of his hair into two tight French braids down the back of his head. A soft sigh escaped him as she ran her cool fingers over the part in his hair, making sure the hair wasn’t pulled too tight from his scalp.

“That’s better. Now you don’t look like a wild child and it’s out of your face.” She cooed, spraying some more cool water against the top of his head and smoothed her hands over the braids. Jake turned and tilted his head, making sure the hair didn’t pull in any places before turning in his seat and held up a fist. Sunny rolled her eyes before connecting her fist with his in a fist bump and turned on her heel, making her way into the back room of the cafe.

Jake stretched over the back of the booth, sighing in relief as all of vertebrae in his back popped in quick succession. Rolling his head from side to side he turned in his seat and gathered his bearings before pushing himself to stand.

“Did you ask mom to get more whipped cream?” He called, scooping their bags up off of the table and slowly made his way into the back of the shop.

~*~*~

A tired sigh slipped past your lips as you slid out of the drivers seat and slammed it shut behind you, using the key fob in your hand to lock the doors. You dragged your feet as you made your way into the cafe, the plan for the day to melt into your booth in the far corner and lose yourself in your newest read.

Sunny’s bright and sunshine filled face greeted you as you opened the door and you felt your small fall a bit as you realized Jake was nowhere in sight. Sunny rang up your order and scooped it up off of Jakes work station to hand it to you as he pushed his way out of the backroom door.

“Hey! I wasn’t done.” He chuckled, shaking the can of whipped cream he held and flipped it upside down to fill the dome lid of your coffee with it. A soft smile spread across your face as you took in his appearance. The bags under his eyes seemed less than they were the night before and his hair was pulled into two smooth French braids.

“Hi, my friend! I like the braids, they suit you.” You kept your voice light and plucked the straw Sunny held out to you out of her hand, inserting it into your drink and took a long sip.

“Sunny decided I looked a little too chaotic this morning and insisted on the braids.” Jake chucked, twirling the end of the braid cheekily around his finger. You couldn’t help the giggles that slipped past your lips as butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“Well someone has to keep you looking your best, don’t they?” You nodded in his direction and quickly turned on your heel, making your way over to your usual booth.

Sunny watched as you slid into the booth and slowly began to take your books and laptop out of your backpack. She leaned back against the counter behind her and cross her arms over her chest and turned her attention to Jake. His eyes were trained on you, watching your every move as you opened your laptop and logged into it, opening your google docs before turning your attention to your textbook. She giggled slightly as she reached out and placed her fingers under his chin, pressing his jaw shut.

“You’re staring.” She giggled glancing over her shoulder at you once more.

“She likes you, you know. Should probably shoot your shot.” Jakes eyes grew wide and he shook his head, causing her to pull her fingers back.

“There’s no way she likes me, she’s just being nice when she comes in here is all.” Jake shrugged, not wanting to get his hopes up in regards to you. Sunny nodded her head as she watched you work, noting the quick glances you would shoot their way.

“She keeps glancing up at you, Jay. I promise you she likes you. Do you not see the way she looks at you when you’re talking to her? Her face fell in the slightest way earlier when she thought you weren’t here.” A soft blush spread across his cheeks as he caught your eye briefly.

“You think? She’s not just being nice?” Sunny rolled her eyes and nodded in the direction of the bar, a silent request for her daily coffee.

“I know you’re not giving free coffees to girls you don’t think you could pull - cause if you are… I’m telling mom!” Sunny giggled watching as Jakes cheeks blazed red and his eyes widened as he slowly began to mix her coffee.

“I wasn’t aware you were on to me.” Jake chuckled, sliding the coffee across the counter to Sunny. She rolled her eyes, picking up the cup and took a long swig before lifting her fingers to her lips and kissed them - he silent compliments to him.

“You don’t think I knew what you were doing last night when you told me to go find more whip knowing full well you had at least half a can still on your station? And when I came back you genuinely expected me to believe you spilled and entire cup of coffee and didn’t yell about it?” Jakes cheeks reddened even further - something Sunny wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.

“And you didn’t harp on me for giving away coffee?” Sunny couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past her lips as she reached up and clapped a hand to his shoulder.

“I’m guilty of giving a pretty girl or two a free coffee or muffin here and there - I can’t fault you if I’m doing it too. But you might wanna shoot your shot because if you don’t? I just might.. I mean look at her!” Sunny whistled lowly and glanced at you once more. Your brows were furrowed together, hand wrapped around the coffee cup and you leaned in closer to the screen in front of you.

“Look how cute she is when she’s concentrating.” Jakes eyes widened as they landed on you and he snapped the dish towel he held in his hands.

“SUN!” His voice coming out louder than he had meant it to caused Sunny to giggle and you to turn your attention to the couple. A soft sigh escaped you as you returned Sunny’s wave, disappointed by the way they openly flirted within your earshot.

~*~*~

The hours sped by without warning and before you knew it lunchtime was looming over your head. Reaching up above your head you stretched out your sore back, sighing wi the relief as the bones popped as the crick in your neck dissipated. Jake watched from behind the bar as you slowly packed up your stuff, a clear indicator that you were done for the day.

He popped a small plastic cup off of the stack to his right and quickly scribbled something on it in sharpie, shaking the cup to dry the ink before placing it down and filling it with the strawberry banana smoothie he had just made for Sunny. A soft smile spread across his face as he popped a lid on it and slid it across the mobile pick up station.

“How about something different for the road, Sweets? A little less mocha and a little more naturally sweet.” He chuckled, nodding his head in the direction of the cup now sat in front of him. You cocked your head to the side, mouthing the word ‘sweets’ to yourself and pointed at the cup.

“Yeah, just a little smoothie. Figured you’d like a change from your regular espresso mocha whip combo.” A soft smile spread across your face as you took the cup from its resting place and shot him a short wave.

“See you tomorrow, Jake.” You called, pushing your way out of the cafe. Jakes eyes grew wide as it registered in his mind that you had used his name. Sunny made her way out of the back room, tumbler clutched in her hand and she squeezed by Jake to get to the blender.

“Why do you look like you’ve been shot?” She chuckled, pouring the contents of the blender into her cup.

“She called me Jake, Sun.” He mumbled, reaching for the now empty blender and turned at his waist to place it into the sink behind them.

“Well that’s your name isn’t it?”

Sitting in your car just outside the cafe, you stared dumbfounded at the cup, his chicken scratch scrawl now smudged but still legible enough to make out what was written there. Your heart hammered in your chest as you fully processed the words.

‘Valentine’s Day Dinner? Text me!’ With his number scrawled just beneath his question.

Taking a deep breath in through your nose you pulled your phone out of your back pocket and quickly added his number to your contacts list.

~*~*~

Your heart hammered in your chest as you pulled up to the cafe a bit later than usual. You could see Jake stood behind the bar as usual, his back turned to the bay window and Sunny speaking to him with a reassuring hand pressed to his shoulder. You took a deep breath as you exited your car - he liked you, he asked you on a date - the sound of the blood rushing through your ears damn near deafening you.

Pushing your way through the door you reached up and pressed a finger to your lips, signaling to Sunny to remain quiet and not speak of your entrance. She continued speaking to Jake, soft sentences of reassurance that you definitely felt the same way he felt about you and that maybe you needed a little extra time to process what he had written on the cup.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and tapped your food audibly against the floor. Jake tilted his head back gently and a soft sigh escaped him as he mentally prepared himself to handle a customer order.

“So you ask me out and then completely fumble having my drink ready for me, Jake? Well I never!” You giggled, placing your hand to your chest as he spun on his heel. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were blazing with heat, the blush slowing creeping down the length of his neck. A smile spread across Sunny’s face as she shot you a wink and turned to excuse herself to the bathroom.

“You… did see what I wrote.” It was a statement not a question, his eyes holding a light of almost disappointment as he slowly began to make your coffee.

“I did see what you wrote, but my balls are only there when I’m hopped up on caffeine so… I couldn’t find the balls to text you last night.” A chuckle of relief slipped past Jakes lips and he looked up and saw the smile spread across your face.

“Well I mean… I’m not sure we can continue this if you have balls. I don’t exactly swing for that team - you’d be better suited for my brother.” Your eyes widened and jaw dropped as the words spilled from him and he reached up, placing his hand over his mouth.

“Alrighty then… I think you got me there. But how about we start with lunch before we go jumping into some extravagant Valentine’s Day plans? This Sunny will let you sneak away for a little bit?” You questioned, watching as he added the whipped cream to the top of your coffee and licked the little bit off of the tip of his finger.

“We’re usually dead until three, I think she’ll be okay. HEY SUNNY - I’LL BE BACK!” He called over his shoulder and lifted the small countertop that separated the lobby from the bar. Standing next to you he bent his arm at the elbow and motioned for you to take it.

“I’ve heard the sandwich shop up the street is pretty good, let’s try there?” You suggested, following his lead out of the cafe. A giggle mixed with relief and excitement slipped past Jakes lips as you both slowly made your way to the sandwich shop.

Cheeky Jake Girl Taglist: @vanfleeter @writingcold @sinsofstardust @silks-up-my-sleeve @stardustvanfleet @tommie-gvf @jakesguitarsolo @klarxtr @ignite-my-fire @alwaysonthemend @allieisacrybaby @runwayblues

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Eight

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Hey! Quick note, this part has a LOT going on, it jumps from pov 2 or 3 times, but there's details mentioned that will make more sense later on, I hope that leaves no one confused:) Also there are a few new characters coming in, some will stay, some won't, so keep that in mind! I was gonna end this part like halfway through and then post, but it felt a little unfinished, so here it is hope you enjoy:))) x

Warnings: A short scene revolving around body image, mentions of scars, drugs, sobriety and heavy drinking

Masterlist

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) In the area, fancy meeting up for coffee?

It had been a good few days since I had last messaged either Jamie or Matty. Though the latter hadn't seemed to have caught onto the fact that I had suddenly distanced myself. Jamie, on the other hand, had and had surprisingly given me some space with it. 

Well, up until now that was.

It was a weary sigh that escaped me when I gazed down at my phone, needless chatter of gossiping mums and squealing children having faded far into the background.

I had only just managed to drop Teddy off at nursery, dipping and diving through the crowd to deliver him right to the classroom door, and was already halfway out of the playground now. It was my first day off in weeks- like proper day off. And now, I had Jamie to deal with.

Alright, maybe that was a bit harsh, but saying that, I wasn’t so much of a twat to just ignore the first message he’d sent me in a while. Especially after I'd disregarded all of the man's previous efforts. Still I couldn't quite stop myself from huffing quietly as I shot him back a message, anxiety creeping in.

Messages now Closer to Tufnell Park than the studio at the minute

Jamie’s response came only seconds later.

Messages now Jamie O (glasses!) No worries! Meet you near The Dome?

Sidestepping a few latecomers as I exited the school gate, I chewed on my bottom lip but eventually sent a text to let Jamie know that I'd be there. I only hoped that the man didn't ask too many questions about my sudden disappearance, I wasn’t too sure I could take the heat.

Early morning rush hour was in full swing by the time I’d made my way out onto the highstreet, people bustled past me to get to work without a care, or even an apology, for anyone who got in their way, zooming on ahead like a soldier in a storm. That was one of the things that had taken me some time to get used to, in truth. How different the crowds of London were to the tiny population of my hometown.

I'd just surpassed the underground station when I caught sight of a vaguely familiar head of dishevelled hair. Jamie stood a way ahead, smiling at the passersby with his hands shoved deeply into the lining of his coat's pockets. He wore a pair of dark, fitted trousers and had a smart looking scarf thrown haphazardly over his right shoulder, something to shelter him from the exaggerated cold. 

Somehow, his face seemed to brighten upon seeing me approach.

"Glad you could make it!" He said as I approached, and he clapped my upper arm in light greeting. "Thought you would have managed to beat me here though."

I made do with a small smile, before gesturing my head over towards where a quaint cafe sat up a few doors down so that we could begin walking.

"Nah, it's pretty hectic trying to escape the crowds at this time. Did you catch the tube up here then?" I conversed and saw Jamie’s brow dip for the briefest of moments before he hastily shook his head at my question.

"Oh, no. Was just leaving a meeting up in Shoreditch, you were on my route so I thought I'd ask."

I gave a low hum, unsure, but didn't comment on it when I thanked him for holding the door open for me to pass through.

"What are you in the mood for then? It's on me."

"Ah, no it's-"

I didn't even get the chance to decline the offer before Jamie was waving me off with a charming smile and a wave of his arm. "Honestly, mate. It's fine, a cup of coffee won't have me out on my arse. So what do you want?"

Blinking with a somewhat disbelieving shake of my head, I prattled off my usual order in a low murmur and told Jamie that I'd find us a table. Just wanting to be helpful, but also to get a second to think things through.

The cafe wasn't too busy. It held the expected usuals; a handful of early-rising old timers and a couple of suits headed in late. So there were a few free tables up for grabs. I picked the one by the window.

Jamie joined me a few minutes later, wearing his usual grin as he carried over a tray of goodies. I raised an eyebrow at the mountain of sweet pastries procured but the man simply shrugged.

"Looked like you'd had a long morning, figured you to be the chocolate type." He commented as he nudged a large croissant in my direction.

Just looking at the buttery roll made my stomach grumble. Teddy and I had been in a wee bit of a rush this morning to get out of the house after my alarm had failed to wake us, so I'd skipped breakfast and picked Teds up something to eat on the way into school.

Toying with the rim of the coffee's handle, I gave Jamie an appreciative smile. “Cheers.” I breathed out and carefully pulled the plate in a little closer.

After that we both simply sipped at our warm drinks for a short while, watching as the morning commuters passed by the large window. It was a calm affair and far from as awkward as I might've expected the meeting to be. In fact, it was actually the first time Jamie and I had met up since that day at the studio, and even then we hadn't had much of an opportunity to chat. 

Still, Jamie’s company felt very similar to that of Adi's- perhaps even Finn's. It allowed me to relax a little. 

It was only after I'd broken off the end of my croissant that I spoke up.

"So, is driving across London at nine in the morning just to buy me a drink your idea of a date, or do you do this with all your mates?"

Jamie blinked at me once, twice, before his eyes widened in alarm, which caused me to, quite literally, snort into my tea.

"I'm joking! Don't fret. Just wondering why the sudden change in pace."

Jamie gifted me a sheepish grin in response and took a quick swig of his coffee before he finally replied.

"You went quiet on us." He shrugged as he picked apart a blueberry muffin, separating the berries from the soft sponge, which amused me somewhat. "Gave you a couple days to breathe, but I reckon you've had long enough. You wanna tell me what's up?"

My eyes strayed back to the window as I withheld a sigh, knowing full well that this had been coming. 

“You know how it is.” I shrugged, almost petulant, and gripped at my cup a little tighter. "Just got busy. I mean, you have to deal with Matty and the band constantly. Can’t be an easy feat."

I received a laugh in turn but my attempt at a little lighthearted humour didn't derail Jamie.

"I know we haven't known each other that long, and you really do have no reason to trust me, of all people, with your problems. But I am here if you ever need anything. Can't speak for Matty, try as I might, but I wouldn't put it past him to go completely out of his way to do whatever you asked either." He chuckled to himself then, like he knew something I didn’t. "He actually hasn't been able to stop talking about you, you know. Not since we met."

I tapped at the mug and felt my tongue prod the inside of my cheek to keep from snorting at Jamie’s words. I just shook my head.

"Doubt he's even noticed I've stopped replying." I quipped lightly, trying to shrug off the sudden emotion that admission had stirred up.

"Ah, so you have been ignoring us then."

I inhaled sharply and dropped my gaze. I couldn’t outright lie to him. 

"Yeah, sorry. Just had a lot going on, you know? This is all new for me, you and Matty, you've just. I don't even know. You just turned up out of the blue and..."

"Sort of invited ourselves into your life?" Jamie filled in with a wry smile.

"No, no! That's- that's not what I meant. Honestly. It's just strange. Different from what I expected." I attempted to backtrack, but ultimately failed.

"No, I get it." Jamie assured, but didn't push the topic any further. "You're stupid, by the way, if you think Matty hasn't noticed. In all the time I've known him, the idiot’s only ever texted me when he's needed something- but the last couple days? I don't think my phone’s stopped going off."

I shovelled another piece of the chocolatey pastry into my mouth to keep myself from replying or reading too much into that.

Jamie released a breathy chuckle and shook his head, as though he could read my reaction, my thoughts. "You've been good for him so far, Mouse. No parties. No drugs. Can't say the same thing about the drink, but he's cut a lot of it out. And I'm chalking that all up to you, ‘cause I can't think of anything else that might've changed in his life to have forced his hand like this."

His words confused me, but then he paused for a moment and purposely caught my eye. 

"Whatever's happened, don't let it keep you from opening up. Not just for his sake, but for yours too. Besides, you can never have too many friends, can you?"

I wiped at my mouth before dipping my head in quiet assent. "No. I ‘spose I can do friends."

Jamie all but beamed, looking pretty proud of himself as he reached across the table for a scone. "Now, tell me all the things that I've missed."

***

Matty practically jumped out of his seat when he heard the front door rattle shut. 

He'd been on edge since the moment he had woken up, but had decided to try for once. He made breakfast (well, rather a late lunch), tried all that meditating malarky (his therapist would be, oh so, proud), and even ended up doing a loop of the block in a desperate attempt to keep his chaotic mind at bay. But nothing. Nothing. Had been able to keep him from wearing the soles of his feet into the fucking floorboards. 

"And where’ve you been?" Matty instigated as soon as Jamie strolled into his sitting room with his usual smile, shaking off the autumn chill he’d invited in with him.

"Around." Was all the twat replied as he draped his heavy overcoat on the back of one of the upholstered armchairs. He paused to eye Matty closely. "Why, what's got your knickers in a twist?"

Matty’s scowl was infamous by this point, but Jamie was one of the fair few to have gotten used to it. A right shame, that. "Nothing! Just- I texted you, wanted an update."

Jamie quirked an amused brow his way and it took all of Matty’s nervous pent up energy not to blow up at him. He could feel his own irritation building though, it tingled in the tips of his fingers and raised goosebumps across his skin. 

"That all? You know the team won't give us an answer until they’re certain that it all won't fall through."

Matty gritted his teeth together and tugged a rough hand through his dishevelled hair. "It's bollocks! It's our fucking album, why do they get a say in what happens with it?"

Jamie sighed quietly to himself as he wandered over towards the heavyset globe sat in the far corner. Matty watched on as he slid its top off and procured a pair of tumblers, pouring two fingers of murky whiskey into each of the old fashioned glasses.

"You know why, mate." 

They'd had this conversation too many times before. And yet,

Matty clenched his jaw to keep from snapping, lashing out, but his knuckles whitened around the glass when Jamie pressed it into his palm. He almost wanted to laugh.

"Thought you wanted me off the drink?" He remarked coldly but swallowed the spirit down before Jamie could give him an actual answer, or take it away. He only wished that the alcohol burned brighter, these days it barely left a bitter tang on his tongue.

Jamie didn't touch his own as he made his way on over towards the chaise lounge, but his fingertips tapped a smooth rhythm against the crystal. The house didn’t make a sound.

Matty followed, as expected, restlessly flinging his feet up onto the centre table before his agitation once again began to overwhelm him. He huffed when he dropped them back to the floor again, the heavy vibrations grounding him somewhat as he moved to rest his elbows on the knobs of his knees.

"That newest story's doing wonders for you right now though." Jamie told him gently when Matty’s quick eyes met his gaze, his hands still toying with the full glass. "They want to rebuild your image. Figure it'll help with album presales, and they're not really all that wrong, mate. Since you've been out of um-”

“You can say it.”

Jamie rolled his eyes but barrelled on, “Since you've been out of rehab. Well, the public's been enjoying seeing this new side of you. Besides, I thought you liked whatever her name was."

With a scoff, Matty forced his gaze away. "It's complete shit and you know it. PR just wants control. For me to fall in line. And the public couldn't give a single fuck about what I do! All they live for is the gossip, the drama. And that's what I do best, no? Don't worry though, J, I'm sure I'll fuck up sooner or later."

"Don't talk like that." Jamie scolded as he pushed his tumbler onto the table and moved a little closer. He looked to be fighting an internal battle, his fingers twitching on the inseam of his leg to keep himself from reaching out to comfort.

"Oh, fucking come off it, Jamie! You know it's true." Matty spat back, the rage once again building. These past few days had had him fraying. "I bet they’re already sitting there at that table just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And I already know they’ll want to be the first in the know, when I finally do fuck up again. Spout about what a waste of space I am! How they should've sacked me off sooner. That it should've been me and not-"

"Don't."

Jamie’s voice cut through the room like a blaring siren, but Matty had never heard him speak so lowly. 

"Don't go there. He wouldn't want you thinking that way."

Matty locked his jaw and narrowed his scrutinising eyes at Jamie. "Don't act like you know what he'd want."

Jamie glanced away for the briefest of seconds and inhaled slowly before his gaze finally returned. Matty could see his own torment reflected in Jamie’s sad eyes. "It hurt me too. You know that."

Matty forced his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Unable to deal with the many emotions that threatened to overpower him. He swiped Jamie's drink off of the table and swallowed it down in one, then swiftly stood and strode across the room to make another.

The amber liquid warmed his chest as expected and he felt the moment it hit his empty stomach. He braced himself against the globe's golden stand, leaving his hair to fall helplessly into his face. Thankfully, it shielded his glossy eyes from Jamie’s view.

It was still so hard. Most nights it was all he could ever picture-

No. Not today, he rebuked. Not now. Not again.

It was a never ending nightmare that he just couldn't seem to wake himself up from. And how he fucking wished he could wake up.

Matty went to refill the glass again but faltered. His hand stilled, midair, fingers itching to grab at the ancient old bourbon that sat only inches away, but instead he reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone.

Too many notifications cluttered the screen. But not a single one from the person he wanted to talk to most. 

In a fit of dismay, he went to throw the stupid thing at the nearest wall but a hand caught his wrist before he could do any real damage.

Matty’s eyes flickered up to meet Jamie’s- he choked.

"I just-" He tried to force out but the words felt like thick bile in his throat. His lip trembled and Jamie tugged him close. Matty wondered when he'd ever allowed the man to get so close. To breach his high walls.

"I know." Jamie hushed him, allowing a steady hand to come to rest at the back of Matty’s neck. "I know, mate."

Matty wondered if he truly did.

***

Mesmerising. 

I let the word play over and over on a loop in my head as my fingertips trailed along the jagged lines of my torso. 

Seventeen I'd been- my first time with this boy from college and he had called the scars I was forced to bare mesmerising. As if they were something special, something to be proud of. I'd frozen back then, the word had, so suddenly, hindered my entire world, but he'd gone on exploring without even noticing the way my mind had started to spiral.

The scars had always been a difficult pill to swallow. They weren't mine. I hated how others could so easily claim their own. His scars. My scars. Hers. I didn't want them. They were just there. A myriad of haunted memories to which I'd been burdened with since the age of seven.

All these years later and still I couldn't recall the smooth expanse of skin that had once been there- untarnished, unharmed.

The bronze shadows, created by the setting sun which illuminated my bedroom walls in a burning shade of amber, crawled across the floorboards beneath my feet and caressed my skin. They dipped and curved, exaggerating sharp lines and hallowing shallow slopes.

I'd only meant to have a quick shower, in and out, before Finn inevitably ended up dropping Teddy back home. But I'd left the wardrobe door wide open in my haste to leave early this morning and had yet to shut it, exposing the slim mirror attached to the inside of the wooden door. A slip up.

So now my distorted body stared back at me mercilessly and I couldn't find it in myself to tear my eyes away. The meek girl stood within its four cutting lines just wasn't me. It was simply the reflection of a sheltered kid who'd been forced to grow up far too quickly. 

Her skin, hardly what you'd pale but not far off, was flushed and pink all over from the steam of the shower. Her hair, still damp and wet, clung to the majority of her forehead and dripped water droplets down the line of her throat. Her eyes, usually a deep, warm colour, were somewhat sunken, hidden behind heavy lids and long lashes. The dark circles that sat beneath them only emphasised the muted scarlet that rimmed her waterline- a lack of sleep. 

I wet my lips. They were dry, bitten from hours of relentless anxiety, but parted enough so that my front teeth could just about be seen. Her face was lined by worry. Fine wrinkles etched themselves around the corners of her eyes and mouth, then again between her furrowed brows.

The scars, faded but somehow still raw, swept up her neck and collarbone, and jumped over her right shoulder. One crept across the cut of her jaw, whilst another sliced through the bridge of her nose to meet another, smaller scar, on her cheek. Her chest, where it had been previously impaled, was now stretched and knitted. Some lines were a few shades darker than her natural complexion, maroon, and oftentimes cardinal. Others were lighter, pale and whitened. Faded.

A gruesome gash down the centre of her abdomen led to a spattering of fine hairs that lined her navel, trailing low beneath the hem of the towel she'd wrapped around her waist earlier. Her hands were now fisted at her sides though, so much so that prominent veins danced up the insides of her forearms, skirting around the few fawn freckles that painted her skin.

Mesmerising.

The sudden blare of a mobile ringing sent a sharp chill up my spine and knocked the air back into me. Shakily I inhaled, averting my eyes from the mirrored prison, then spun round on my heel to answer the call.

There was no greeting, no small talk. It was cutthroat and to the point.

"I need a drink. You coming?"

And I had never answered a question quicker.

--

It was a hard task, squinting down at my phone in an attempt to concentrate on the text I was trying to send to Finn, but the strobe lights and throng of people around me were making the task rather fucking difficult.

To be honest though, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I'd stepped foot inside a club. Or even spent an entire evening sat in the local pub. But I’d been all but desperate, and so, in the heat of the moment, I had practically jumped at the first offer I’d been given. 

I was beginning to second guess that decision now though as I pushed my way through the rowdy crowds, the assorted smell of liquor and sweat already clinging to my clothes. I hadn't really put too much thought into those, too busy trying to escape my own head. Really, I’d just thrown on an old skirt from my uni days, a top that made my tits look great but hid the scar there, and the well-worn leather jacket Finn had gifted me at the end of my first year working on the show.

I had just sent the text off, double checking with the man himself that he was still alright to have Teddy til the following morning, when a raised voice caught my attention.

Frowning, my head snapped up but that soon faded once I caught sight of the tall ginger propped up against the bar not too far away. My lips curled up into a lopsided grin on their own command and I was quick to pocket my phone, already moving towards him.

"Mighty Mouse. You actually made it!" Ronan Kelly bellowed in that familiar Irish lilt of his, welcoming me in with a hearty squeeze to the waist as we embraced. "It's a feckin' miracle!"

I gave him an impish smile and dipped my head slightly to rub at my nose, then made the effort to catch Ronan's icy gaze. "I guess it has been a while."

"A while- Babe, I ain't seen you in months!" Ronan laughed, flashing a row of white teeth and wrinkling his bright blue eyes. I felt some of my worries ease at the sight of the man's familiar face, a warm reminder of older days. "Can't believe you actually agreed to come out with us!"

I shook my head and released an airy chuckle, "You know how it is, Ro- got Teddy to worry about now."

Ronan's face, if possible, lit up even further at the mention of the small toddler. "Ah, grand! How is the wean? At school now, right?"

It was sweet of him to ask and I smiled up at him as I went to answer, but was forced further into Ronan’s space when some prat barged past me to get to the bar. Ronan caught me by the waist with a natural ease he’d always been capable of and narrowed his eyes at the guilty party from over my shoulder. 

Not wanting things to escalate, I did my best to quickly wave it off and distract. "Teddy's good!" I heard myself tell him, voice slightly raised to be heard over the pulsing music, tiptoeing almost now in his grasp. "He's with Finn at the moment."

Ronan's gaze reluctantly trailed back to me upon hearing me speak, he reluctantly smiled and nodded but had yet to drop his hands from where they were now stationed at my hips.

"I'm sure Finn is completely lovin' that."

With a light laugh, I rolled my eyes at his sarky reply and moved to press my forearm up against the edge of the bar’s countertop. "They're a proper little duo. Finn has been a saint, what with all his help and that. Don't think I'd be standing here today without him really."

"Well, let's cheers to that then, hey?" Ronan grinned, then raised a hand to gesture over towards the barman.

Within seconds two pints were being placed on the bartop, a dizzying yellow colour filled to the brim with minuscule bubbles that had my mouth watering. It had been a long while since a fresh pint of lager had wet my lips and it helped that Ronan’s presence was a comfort.

"Sláinte!" He announced brashly, already having hoisted his glass into the air between us.

"Cheers!" I laughed, clinking our glasses together before gulping down a too large swig.

"That's what I like to see!" Ronan whooped, almost proudly. He squeezed my right hip in celebration before choosing to steer us both away from the bar and over towards a wall lined with darkened booths. "Come on, Auley and everyone's waiting over here, been excited to see ya!”

I only nodded in reply, pint close to my chest as I followed after him, bobbing between an array of patrons effortlessly now. The earlier anxiety shovelled deep, deep down.

***

Withdrawal was something Matty had never thought too much about in the years before. He'd always had everything right there, on tap. A quick hit, a line just to pick him up. It always felt so easy.

But now, without the copious amount of pills, the parties, he finally realised why the fuck people were never able to stay away for too long. Because sooner or later, they always ended up crawling back.

It wasn't so much the flu-ish like sickness that had him reeling, although he really could've done without the high-fever sweats and the full body tremors. It was more that ever encompassing sorrow. The depression that never seemed to lift- but then again, depressed wasn't even the first word he would use to describe it. It was like a thick plume of murky black that fogged every exit, far beyond the gut wrenching nausea that clawed away at his insides at all hours of the day, or the constant drilling in his head that kept him from sleep.

Being without- 

Being without was practically maddening. A spiral of hellish days with no escape, the only choice he had was to carry on or simply turn back. And he'd come too far now to run towards the latter, he’d already made that mistake. And if he had anything to thank his godforsaken mother for, it was the sheer stubbornness they both so clearly shared.

Matty couldn't complain though, he wouldn’t, as much as he wished he often could though, because he was still leaning heavily on the spirits. He knew. As well as the band and Jamie, who'd also been hellbent on 'helping'. In their own way.

Although the idiots hadn't made things much easier for him, the guys hadn't put up much of a fight against his drunk ramblings or the never ending mood swings. They just took it all in stride. Which Matty was mostly grateful for.

The alcohol though, he'd currently taken to using as a crutch. He'd drink a little more and more just to cope with the effects, the longing, to get him through to the next day. But he'd never felt too dependent on it before and didn't feel as though it was a massive problem now, he'd been drinking since before he'd worked out how to pick the lock on his dad’s old liquor cabinet. He’d keep drinking ‘til he was near the grave.

The drinking though, was just a baby habit in comparison to the drugs.

It was also how he'd managed to find himself out on a Thursday night. 

He'd actually managed to forgo Hann's mothering this time, sending his mate off home early from the studio before he'd called up an old friend. Itching for that familiarity of older times, shaking with it really, but knowing better.

"Oi, Healy- you still with us?" Crowed a loud voice in his left ear.

Matty startled at it and turned back around to find the one and only Danny Willis hanging over his shoulder, usual open-mouthed grin on full display, a drink in hand.

He blinked up at him once before Matty’s lips turned upwards into a lazy smile, he spun around on his foot to get further in his friend's face. "Thought you'd gone off with that bird?"

"Who, blondie?" Danny questioned, smirking now. "Nah, wouldn't have left you hanging all alone, mate."

Matty snorted.

"Ah, so you do care!" He drained the dregs of his bourbon then grinned at the twat, "Always wondered whether you fancied me, Danny boy! Guess this just proves it, don’t it?"

Danny wound an arm around his shoulders and leant in to press a sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek. Matty pulled away, cackling as he tried to shrug the added weight off.

"Prick." Matty scoffed lightly, stumbling as he rubbed at his face. He grunted at the small group he'd accidentally bulldozed into in his haste and they all scowled in return, but it wasn't long before Danny jumped in to rescue and steer him away.

"Come on. Let's get out of here, hey? The next bar awaits and all that." Danny proclaimed, chucking back the remnants of his own drink. Matty chuckled when the man winced and then wiped the corners of his mouth. "Reckon we might be able to find someone decent for you to take home there!"

Matty merely hummed in reply as they pushed their way through a set of double doors and out into the night, not really listening as he propped himself up against Dan's side, ignoring the whispers that tended to follow wherever he went.

"Ah, look at that, would you!" Danny's voice came again, right by his ear, as he paused on the pavement to cock his chin outwards, forcing Matty to follow his gaze. "It's a full moon!"

Matty rolled his eyes.

***

"Come on, Mouse!" Auley tried for the umpteenth time that night. His larger than life smile, I noted, had always been much gentler than that of his brother's. "You can't stay cooped up in this booth all evenin'! You need to put yourself out there, darlin’- have some fun!"

I shook my head, chuckling up at the giant of a man standing before me. "I swear I'm fine here, Aul. You go and have enough fun for the both of us."

Auley's face scrunched up in distaste as he reluctantly pushed away from the table's edge, the dim lights of the bar illuminating his hair, almost seeming to set it alight as it added a halogen glow to the already coppery red.

Ronan chose that moment to reappear, brushing past his brother to settle back into the booth next to me. He set two more drinks down on the table. "Leave the poor lass alone, won’t you, Aul! You know how she gets."

I rolled my eyes, albeit fondly, and Auley did the same as he slowly backed away, mouth quirked upwards. "Yeah, yeah. Yer like a pair of old women, you two- peas in a pod or somethin'."

"Ah, shove off!" Ronan laughed, a deep rumbling sound that shook his whole body. "Think I can hear the dance floor callin' your name, mate."

"Too right." Auley quipped, flashing another bright grin at his brother before he turned back to face me. "Know that this isn't over just yet. You might've won this battle but you ain't won the war, darlin’. I'll soon get that dance."

I snorted, but was unable to help my grin. "One day, babe."

Auley winked at me and I watched on as he melted into the mob of people before us, leaving Ronan and I alone.

I observed the crowd for a long moment, taking note of all their dizzying smiles. For a Thursday night, the bar was oddly rampacked, but I couldn't find it in myself to complain too much, not when everyone seemed to be having a great time. 

There was a large group of us out tonight. Alongside asking me to join, Ronan and Auley had brought along the entirety of their flat as well as a few others, some from uni, others from work, I reckoned. They'd all split up within the first half hour though, but they kept drifting back and forth, I could easily spot Penn and his brightly coloured shirt over by the snooker table in the very far corner, and most of the girls had crowded together out on the dance floor. 

"Havin' a good night then?"

I repositioned myself upon hearing Ronan's question, he was closer now in an attempt to be heard over the music, and I sipped at the foamy top of my pint before answering. "Yeah, I am. It's, well it's been a while since I last did anything like this." I chuckled, eyes roaming the room again. 

Ronan shifted closer once more, the booth’s leather seat squeaking quietly under his weight as the song on the overhead speakers faded into the next.

"I'm glad. We haven't seen you proper since yer last year at uni."

It was true but that wasn't just down to me, I felt the need to say. But instead gave him a small smile as I just shrugged, thumbing the edge of the table, "Life gets busy with a baby. Plus, it's not as though any of you lot had time to just drop by and see me, with all your classes and what not."

Ronan’s lips pursed at my words and a quiet stretched between us. I watched on as he fiddled with the bottom of his pint glass, before finally he replied. "Could've made time. Finn did. Cassie, too. Just- it felt strange, going back after that summer and you not bein' there."

To be honest, I didn't really know what to say to that. 

As much as I had loved my time at university, I hadn't really had much space for it in my life after Teddy had come along. And although I’d never regretted my decision to leave, not after everything I'd gone through to get to where I am today. Because my God, had that been hard. I did sometimes miss the memories I’d made there, the people I’d met and, surprisingly, the workload too. It made me question whether I could have had it all, a degree and a baby. Although, I somehow doubted that that was what Ronan was grasping at here.

But it wouldn’t do well to continue to dwell on the past. I'd already spent a large portion of my life doing exactly that, and I’d known in the long run that I would have to have let go of some things in order to provide a better life for Teddy, better than the one that I’d had. I wanted my son to have every possible opportunity, every choice, in order to better himself. I wanted him to be a kid for as long as life would let him.

And as much as I really did love spending time with Ronan and the old gang, I also knew that come tomorrow morning I had actual commitments and responsibilities to attend to. I didn't have the opportunity anymore to skive and bunk off of lectures so that I could deal with a nasty hangover and sleep in. Teddy was always relying on me to come through. And come through I would. Every time.

But right now! I just needed to let my hair down. Enjoy an evening away, and maybe (hopefully) get rid of some of that tension that had been piling up over the previous weeks.

Thankfully though, I was saved from answering when a flushed Alice came hurrying over, clinking her cocktail on the table so hard it's fruity contents spilled out across the wooden surface. The overexcited girl, who was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, didn't pay much mind to the mess as she threw herself into our booth and peered over her shoulder to search for something or other. 

I shot Ronan a bewildered look, but the ginger merely widened his eyes at me as if to say that he had no clue what was going on either. 

"Er, you alright, Al?"

Alice's head snapped back so fast that I honestly fretted a little over the whiplash she must've felt.

"No?! Do I look alright?" Alice stressed, digging her perfectly painted nails into the red cushion that lined the booth's back. "You'll never believe who Penn and I just saw walk in!"

I only hid a smile to myself whilst Ronan decided to humour Alice. "Who d’ya see, Ali-cat?"

Alice's face was nothing like I had ever seen before, her usual pretty smile had been traded in for a kilowatt grin, bunching her rosy cheeks and narrowing her soft brown eyes.

"That singer! You know- the one with the hair and the face! Ah, what's his name? From that band!"

"Matty!" Answered Indra- seemingly a friend of a friend of a friend- who had bounded up to our table in the time Alice had been freaking out, practically hyperventilating. "The. Matty Healy!"

"That's who!" Alice exclaimed and was nodding away excitedly now, whilst I simply sat frozen, drink halfway to my lips.

"Didn't you interview him?" Indra queried suddenly, her eyes as wide as saucers whilst her gaze flitted back and forth between me and the bar at an impossible pace.

Shakily, I set my glass down.

"You did?" Ronan piped up beside me. I swallowed thickly before turning my head towards him, then back towards the two girls, who were anxiously waiting on my reply.

"Uh, yeah." It felt as though I’d forced the words out of my mouth. A ball of cotton having replaced my tongue.

"Oh, Mouse! Introduce us, would you? Please!" Alice all but squealed imploringly.

My alarmed eyes flickered back to Ronan again, then Indra, and then Alice.

My mouth had never felt so dry as I tried my best to ground myself, to get over the sudden, unexpected headfuck that had sent my mind reeling.

"Ah, I don't know, Al. It's, well. I-" I really did struggle to find the right words that could possibly get me out of this entire situation, but before I even knew what was happening, Indra was already reaching for me and pulling me up out of the booth. 

Alice jumped up to join her and patted my sleeve eagerly before proceeding to try and drag me away. Ronan, thank the stars, reached out to stop them just in time, tugging on the hem of my jacket and shooting the two girls a sharp look.

"Oi, you two. Behave, will yer? You didn't even give her the chance to answer."

Alice looked up and flashed me a sheepish grin, "Sorry, hun."

Feeling sheepish and rather relieved, really, to be freed from all the clawing hands, I waved her apology off, knowing Ali was only just drunk and excited. "It's fine, just- I think I'm better off heading home now in truth. You know, I've got Teddy to think about."

Both of the girls' disappointment was overwhelmingly obvious, but they didn't push it any further, simply nodded and tried to smile as best as they could.

"No worries, Mouse. You get on home, babe. Sorry again."

"Wait, you're not actually leaving, are you?" Ronan questioned suddenly, causing me to cast a glance over at him. He was frowning now, that much was obvious from the deep set line rapidly forming between his bushy brows. "It's not 'cause of that tosser, is it?"

Immediately, I felt myself shake my head, already knowing that the lie would taste bitter in my mouth.

"Ah, come off it! Stay for another round at least." Ronan goaded me, moving to stand with the girls, his hand still on my elbow though.

"Nah, I'd best head home, Ro. I don't want to be dealing with a hangover as well as a screaming toddler tomorrow morning." I insisted with a lighthearted chuckle, I gifted him an apologetic smile whilst fishing out my phone to call a cab.

It wasn't even late yet, just gone eleven, and there was an unread text from Finn demanding that I have some fun. I gave a heavy sigh.

"Don't be like that, babe. Come on, one more drink and I'll even walk you home." Ronan raised a brow just as he jutted out his jaw and smiled.

It was tempting but...

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Honestly, Ro-"

But the man wouldn't hear it. "Come on, ladies. Help me out here!" He implored to both of the girls standing either side of him now, the way he towered them was almost funny.

Indra giggled just as Ronan wrapped his strong arms around her and Alice, shaking them a little. Alice simply rolled her eyes at him in amusement, but pulled away slightly to squeeze my hand.

"It's up to you, M. You know we love seeing you, but I can call you a cab if you really want to head off now."

I could only smile at her and silently questioned why we didn't spend more time together outside of the group. I could easily recall Finn saying something or other about a pottery class the two of them had attended the previous weekend and wondered if that would be something I might enjoy.

"I'll be fine, babe. Thank you, though." I told her kindly, before turning to face Ronan. "You enjoy the rest of your night, alright? I'll text you when I've made it back."

"Mouse..." Ronan groaned unhappily, "Just one more drink. For me?"

I shook my head and tugged my jacket further around my body as I stepped away from the trio, patting down my pockets to make sure that I did have everything I needed. 

"I'll come out again, soon." I promised them, but tried to aim my words at the frowning redhead as I continued to back away. "You can hold me to it."

Ronan worked his jaw before he nodded curtly, and I sighed to myself before spinning on my heel to hastily make my exit. 

Only, it didn't quite happen like that of course, because, of all the people, in all the world, I just had to bump right into none other than Matty.

[tcwmatchmakingau]

As Sweet As Sugar

Pairing: Wolffe x F!Reader (no physical descriptions)

Rating: SFW 

Summary: Wolffe’s date is running late, and he finds himself wondering if he made a mistake.

A.N: This is my first Wolffe fic and I don’t know what I’m doing, so I figured I’d keep Part 1 short and sweet. I know typical Wolffe fanon sees him as more of a hard dom (I mean, I get it and I’m here for it…) but I wanted to take a softer approach with this fic.

Shout out to the reader who requested “Anything with Commander Wolffe where he is just a sweet kind flirty date?” 

Word Count: 687 (I’m shocked I was able to write something shorter than 2.5k words lmao)

Warnings: None, just fluff and first date awkwardness.

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Wolffe was beginning to regret this decision. 

Dating… matchmaking? He didn’t have time for any of this. There was still much work to be done— endless stacks of reports to review and approve before he could finalize his men’s reassignments and discharge orders. It turned out that even winning the war could not put an end to all the paperwork.

He drummed his fingers on the table and scanned the busy roof-top cafe, looking any sign of his date. The glass-domed dining room was lush with exotic greenery, which provided a surprising amount of privacy to its patrons while giving the space a vibrant tropical feel, despite the cafe’s location high in Coruscant’s skyline. 

“So what are you looking for, Commander Wolffe?” the matchmaker, Sander Loris, had asked him when they met in the the RTL offices. 

Wolffe didn’t have an answer for Sander then, and he still wasn’t sure now. 

He had visited RTL Matchmaking in an apparent moment of weakness, after meeting his brothers for drinks. Cody and Rex were both enamored and gushing about their new partners, and even kriffing Fox couldn’t stop smiling and messaging his partner the whole night. Wolffe had left that night, wondering what if.

And so here he was, several weeks later, sitting in possibly the nicest space he’d ever set foot in, waiting for a mystery date who was running late. He shifted in his seat, tugging awkwardly at his new civilian clothes. It still felt weird to wear civvies, but Cody had insisted that Wolffe wear something appropriately casual to make the right impression, instead of his officer’s uniform like Wolffe had planned. 

Not that it mattered, because she still wasn’t here. 

He glanced around the room again before looking out the window. The busy afternoon skylane traffic was nearly obscured by the decorative vegetation lining the windows, and he absently wondered where all those people were going and how they spent all their free civilian time.

“Commander Wolffe?” A light voice at his side snapped his attention back into the room. 

All lingering reservations Wolffe held about this date evaporated quickly when he saw you standing near the table, smiling hopefully at him as you awaited his response. Your smile ran him through instantly, just as your voice had cut through the soft murmur of the cafe. 

Wolffe shot up from his seat a bit too suddenly and stood straight and at attention, as if summoned by his General. “Ma’am,” he said stiffly and just barely managed to stop himself from saluting you. Instead, he held out his hand to you in a casual greeting.

You smiled and chuckled as you took his hand and insisted he call you by your first name. 

Wolffe repeated your name, and it did not escape his notice how warm and soft your hand was, and how neatly it fit into his. 

“Please, call me Wolffe,” he added with what he hoped was a charming smile as he released your hand, but his voice still felt stiff in his own ears.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Wolffe. And I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. This is really not how I wanted to start things, but an unfortunate emergency at work delayed me,” you winced apologetically as you sat across from him. “Even when I’m done with work, it never seems to be done with me.”

You laughed nervously and he couldn’t help but smile at the endearing sound. “Ah, yes. I’m all to familiar with that feeling.” 

You visibly relaxed at his words and flashed a smile even more brilliant than the last. “Well, even so, I’m glad you didn’t bail on me.”

“Oh it takes more than that to scare me off,” Wolffe replied quickly, holding your gaze as a crooked smile curved the corner of his mouth.

You looked away first, with a bashful little smile, and diverted your focus to the menu. 

Oh, that one…that was his favorite smile so far. He made it his goal for the evening to get you to give him as many of those as could get…

[markjelol1112]

Valentines day marriage

A Winter x Karina ( winrina ) special 18+

Karina and Winter have being engaged for 1 year and there marriage is not far from it Mark asked Killian to come with him to his girlfriend her final karate world championship but Killian told him that he has other plans because Winter invited him to her house she wants ask Killian something but she is scared if Karina find it out

Winter why you ask me to come over we broke up long time ago." Killian said

Killian I wanna do it again and I wanted with you." Winter said

Okay then I do this condom around my d*** and we can start with this last time." Killian said again

At the seoul dome in South Korea Mark Daniël Thomas Ningning Giselle and Karina where watching jasmine her finals of the world championship karate and she is 1 point of being world champion of Belgium

You got this baby I trust in you." Mark said again

But Karina feels her worried about that Winter didn't come with her for this

Back at the house Killian put the condom around his d*** and wanna do it safely but Winter refuse that he use that condom so she pull it of his d***

Uhm why you doing this." Killian said again

And Winter whispered something in his ear that will in his head for a long time

Make me pregnant." Winter whispered In Killian his ear

But Killian don't wanna have trouble with Winter her parents he told them to use condoms and Mark told him that to to use condoms but he did it anyways he put his d*** in Winter and she started to moaning

Oh yeah fuck me Killian do it do it." Winter said while moaning

Back at the world championship karate in South Korea jasmine has crowned herself as the new world champion karate and Mark I happier that he hold his tears for the trophy ceremony

In 3rd place Germany." The announcer said

In 2nd place the Netherlands." The announcer said again

And your now world champion make some noise for jasmine from Belgium." The announcer said again

And Mark was super happy that he wanna celebrate it as jasmine hold the world championship karate golden trophy in the air Mark started to cry

As the anthem of Belgium started to play Mark Daniël and Thomas where singing because that's their home country their place they grown up

At the moment when Killian and Winter having s*x he c***** in Winter her stomach

Winter moaning a little bit when it was done then Killian received a text message from Mark to come to the cafe to celebrate jasmine her world champion karate trophy she earned

Winter whatever you do don't tell anyone about this okay." Killian said again

Okay I hope I'm pregnant then I will let you know." Winter said again

And Killian covered his face only his eyes where seen when he walked out the house Ningning saw him running

Who was that Ningning." Karina said again

I don't know but I could only see his eyes and that's recognised me of someone but who." Ningning said again

As Killian came to the cafe Mark saw that Killian has done something terrible

Killian what's wrong." Mark said again

Nothing Mark." Killian said again

Then Mark received a message from Ningning that Winter is not okay

But they must wait if something has happened with Winter

When Mark Daniël Thomas Killian and Jasmine are back home Killian felted guilty of something he did without using condoms as protection to don't make Winter pregnant but Killian still hear the words from Winter make me pregnant is what Winter whispered in his ears

The end p1

[heartstringsduet]

happy sunday, world ☀️ have a snippet of next week's First Aid chapter.

Before Carlos knows it, he’s wrapped in a hug. It’s awkward, arms around his head and TK’s chest pressed in so tight against his face, Carlos can barely breathe. It’s the best hug he’s ever received. 

The rest of the world falls away; falls back to a different time; falls back to only them.

TK’s happiness is so flashy, Carlos expects it to bounce off the silverware and candle holders. It ignites something inside Carlos. When he laughs, he accidentally breathes a piece of TK’s shirt into his mouth for a moment, which only makes him laugh harder. TK lets go of him just as their server brings over a basket with sourdough and butter shaped into little swirly domes.

Carlos feels the onset of a swoop of shame in his belly, like the stiffness of this restaurant has been disrupted and they’ll be asked to quiet down or leave, but the server smiles and asks, “Oh, is there something you’re celebrating?” Open Tag &

@welcometololaland @carlos-in-glasses @rmd-writes @carlos-tk @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @alrightbuckaroo @paperstorm @decafdino @thebumblecee @herefortarlos @bonheur-cafe @theghostofashton @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74 @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @kiwichaeng @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @sanjuwrites @honeybee-taskforce @louis-ii-reyes-strand @freneticfloetry

[solarpunkani]

Hey! I’ve been following you for a bit and have been recently considering writing my own little solarpunk short stories for here. Do you have any suggestions?

See its funny you'd ask this because I've honestly only written one (I started on another one but lost The Vibe) but I mean

I dunno

Think about what you like about Solarpunk and what kind of setting you're most comfortable with writing. What kind of plots you like most and how you could fit it into a solarpunk setting of your desire. How much you want the story to be affected by the fact that it takes place in a more Solarpunky society.

One of the things I struggle with when it comes to writing Solarpunk stuff is worrying that other people aren't gonna find it 'solarpunk enough,' because I'm more comfortable writing stories in like the earlier days of a Solarpunk society than like a *midst of it all utopia* kinda vibe that I see most other people do. But I'm also not politically knowledgeable enough to write about the, I dunno, proletariat uprising that dismantles the government to make *room* for said solarpunk society. If you have an issue similar to me, then the advice I'm trying to beat into my own head is 'write the story as something i'd wanna read, and if other people like it then that's cool, and if other people don't like it then i dunno fuck em anyways'

If you don't have that problem feel free to ignore that.

I'm not gonna act like writing solarpunk short stories is easy! Because I find it hard! I actually get *frustrated* when other people act like its easy to do specifically *because* low-stakes conflicts are hard for me, but high-stakes political arena stuff goes over my head. I'm used to like. Writing about superheroes fighting supervillains, or medieval peasants gathering the relics of an ancient god before an otherworldly threat takes over. Comparatively, writing about lost dolls and cafe dates and roadtrips is hard for me. So I'd suggest finding something you're really interested in and taking off with it.

And if you're like me, try to do as much of it in one sitting as possible, and if you're gonna stop write notes on what you'd planned next. That was my downfall with the Last Roadtrip story I was working on before.

Regarding ideas? Some of these are at the top of the dome and some of these are ones I'd considered but changed my mind on.

A group of friends who all learn different fiberwork/clothing crafts (sewing, knitting, crocheting, embroidery) so they can have the absolutely most baller outfits for their town's fashion show/big dance/festival/some other event in a few months/next year

Story from the perspective of someone who goes around town maintaining all the different community fridges and talking with the people who use them while they work

A small community starting a community pollinator garden/food garden in honor of... something I dunno

A band getting ready for a gig another town over but like. Solarpunk.

Someone whos finally old enough to go to their town's night market by themselves and their excitement over it/what the market is like

A group of friends takes it upon themselves to clean up a creek they used to play at that, over the years, sort of became a dilapidated dumping site, and keeping track of all the new stuff they see as they work. Like, one person's passionate about plants and guides them on what they should plant and where and how, one person's really good at identifying insects and animals and helps log every new sighting, one person's better with handling like logistics and stuff, etc.

Two guerrilla gardeners accidentally pick the same abandoned lot to strike on the same night. Chaos ensues, but don't get caught!!

A society is quickly transitioning to becoming carless, but one group of teens is siezing the opportunity to take possibly THE LAST true Summer Roadtrip ever. Hijinks ensue.

A community gathering to repair and rebuild a beloved community center after it gets absolutely fucked up somehow (natural disaster, vandalizers, whatever, maybe it got attacked by bears who knows)

Someone trying to figure out how to make some beloved passed down family recipe without having a good chunk of the ingredients due to season-based product selling or transport issues or something

Look if you manage to pull off a superhero story in a solarpunk society I'll definitely read it. Tag me, even.

The rivalry of the ages going down during a 'who can grow the biggest pumpkin/watermelon/whatever' contest. But it's solarpunk. IDK.

You can see how I struggle with this

Don't forget you can also do like 'oh a solarpunk society in the tropics what does that look like' (I had a brief idea on solarpunk pearl harvesting/oyster raising after watching some shorts but lost it basically soon after) or 'a solarpunk society but its wintry and snowy and all that jazz what then' kinda deal. Check out this post I made awhile back.

I also have this post of video game ideas I conjured up, that could be made into short stories instead if you wanted.

If all else fails, you can check out the Solarpunk Aesthetic Week pinterest board and see if anything in there inspires you!

I hope this rambly ass answer was actually helpful in any way, shape, or form. And if it wasn't I'm sorry, smite me where I stand.