#fool me seven times shame on you fool me eight or more times shame on me

[padawansuggest]

13 yo Obi-Wan: You guys are keeping me captive 🥺

Jaster: Ob’ika, we are bringing you back to the temple to reunite with your people.

Obi-Wan: 🥺 then why am I in a cage?

Jaster: *looks pointedly at Jango covered in bite marks, bandages and a torn kute*

Jango: Jas’Buir, he’s really cute, the bites didn’t even hurt 🥺

Obi-Wan: Yeah, I’m just making friends 🥺

Jaster: *soul deep sigh* I am not letting you out of the cell so you can maul my ad again.

Jango: Buuuir, he’s just an ad’ika, lookit his ik’aad fangs, he won’t actually hurt me!

Jaster: You we’re begging me to get his fangs out of your wrist five minutes ago.

Jango: He’s just teething!!

Jaster: Jan’ika, I know you want to keep him, but he’s not even house broken yet.

Jango: Neither was I when you adopted me!! He’s chosen me! Lemme keep him!

Obi-Wan: 🥺 I will be a good boy if you stick your fingers in my enclosure 🥺

Jaster: *physically holding Jango back* No. We will revisit this when the baar’ur has given him a Xanax omfg- *dragging Jango out of the ship hold*

[astonmartinii]

if you need me, let me know, gonna be around [mamma mia part seven] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & fernando alonso

flo has finally given y/n the experience of motherhood, but she’ll never forget about her overgrown kids

MAMMA MIA MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 1,934,033 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: venturing out from christmas hibernation and adding to the already overflowing collection of teddies. oh, and getting pics like that of jens while he's out "having a job"

view all comments

user1: i am a simple woman, i see dilf jenson, i lose all sense of reality

user2: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

jensonbutton: oh wow who is that handsome specimen on the last slide?

sebastianvettel: the man who carelessly abandoned his family !!!

fernandoalo_oficial: a man who couldn't handle that i was the best driver in the family

jensonbutton: what ???

sebastianvettel: i'm sorry... is that the ghost of the man we once knew

jensonbutton: i'm not dead

fernandoalo_oficial: to me you are

yourusername: okay guys ... the bit is up !! we do miss you jense but we're happy you're happy :)

sebastianvettel: sure.... well at least you won't try and worm your way into the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: as long as you still come to some of my races :)

user3: glad to see parenthood has not changed these fools

charles_leclerc: why do my selfies never make the instagram :(

yourusername: charlie, if i posted every time you sent me a picture of you crying that's all my instagram would be

charles_leclerc: but ........ i thought i was your favourite

yourusername: you know i don't have a favourite

charles_leclerc: sure if that's what you want to tell yourself

maxverstappen1: we all know you say that to not hurt charlie's feelings because i'm your favourite

fernandoalo_oficial: you people are so dramatic

maxverstappen1: says you old man, i can scroll up you know

sebastianvettel: well you're all second to flo

charles_leclerc: she's disqualified from this competition, she's your actual child you have to say she's your favourite

jensonbutton: it's more who annoys us the least

user4: 2024 and nothing has changed here

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,045,388 others

sebastianvettel: love being miles away, missing my baby and getting a running commentary of how my "grid kids" are terrorising y/n

view all comments

user7: seb is on a mission to pick up every dad hobby ever. first beekeeping and now sailing

user8: don't forget the gardening and the crochet

user9: he's collecting the infinity stones of dilfism

yourusername: a full eight hours of sleep looks so good on you

sebastianvettel: so i don't look good all the time 🤨

yourusername: of course you do handsome. me and flo miss you :((

sebastianvettel: don't say that i miss you all so much

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe that's your sign to come home?

jensonbutton: yeah i think you should listen to the universe seb, you like all that crystal and salt of the earth stuff

yourusername: sebbbbbbbbb :(((((

sebastianvettel: STOP

user10: they are so precious to me

yourusername: no but seriously if i have to teach another grid kid how to iron i might lose my mind

charles_leclerc: ummmmm stop blasting me on main?

yourusername: learn to iron then

sebastianvettel: you still don't know how to iron? i thought i taught you in 2019?

charles_leclerc: clearly not well enough !! and y/n please name and shame the others so i'm not alone

yourusername: @landonorris @logansargeant sorry

landonorris: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU Y/N? I CALLED YOU IN CONFIDENCE

logansargeant: i don't have any excuse, thank you for the lesson y/n :)

jensonbutton: at least one of our kids is well mannered

charles_leclerc: i am well mannered, sorry i love my grid mum and her kid. i do semi-know how to iron but needed an excuse to see flo :(

user11: free my girl from these incompetent men

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoao_oficial and 921,743 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thanks nurse y/n and nurse flo for helping me - sorry about your mug

view all comments

user12: the plaster :((((((((

jensonbutton: IT WAS YOU WHO BROKE MY I <3 NASCAR DILFS MUG

mickschumacher: sorry !

jensonbutton: nuh uh mister @sebastianvettel sort your kid out

sebastianvettel: mick said he was sorry jenson, leave him be

jensonbutton: but when lando put the rubbish in the wrong recycling he had to go litter picking with you I WANT A NEW MUG

yourusername: you guys know they aren't actually your kids, you can't put them in time out

yourusername: you can barely put your own child in time out

fernandoalo_oficial: she's too cute i don't want to make her cry

landonorris: but it's fine to make me cry?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes. in fact, it's quite fun

landonorris: Y/N!!!!

yourusername: okay, babies let's all put the phones down for this evening.

user13: nooooo y/n please i could watch these idiots argue all day

yourusername: the main thing is that your finger is all okay and that you got a cute plaster out of it

mickschumacher: i very much love my lil cat finger

yourusername: so does flo, i think you might be stuck doing puppet shows for the forseeable future

mickschumacher: anything for miss flo

user14: mamma mia family dynamics you are everything to me

fernandoalo_oficial: why did mick get a kitty plaster and i got told to do it myself :(

yourusername: because you're a grown man and you injured yourself by tripping with darts in your hands

fernandoalo_oficial: mick is a grown man - HE CAN VOTE just because he needs seb's help with the paperwork does not change that

mickschumacher: you said yourself they are confusing !!

sebastianvettel: ignore him mick

fernandoalo_oficial: booooooooo

user15: i know these men provide the best entertainment for flo even if she doesn't understand a word they're saying

yourusername: she finds them very entertaining which then starts a competition to who can make her laugh the most

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,447,734

tagged: alexalbon, lilymunhe

yourusername: sometimes even my most competent grid kid needs some help, happy anniversary alex and lily x

view all comments

user16: UGH this is so cute

alexalbon: grid mum or emotional support retail assistant?

lilymunhe: so how much of the heartfelt gift was really you

alexalbon: 90% !!! i swear

yourusername: it was all alex he just needed the support (idk he said that jewellery shops are stressful)

alexalbon: they are !! i don't know how big fingers are :(

lilymunhe: thank you y/n wouldn't want the 27 year old man to get lost at the mall

yourusername: no worries, i somehow gained at least 15 extra children along with flo, i just go with it. he's less hassle than charles and max

charles_leclerc: rude.

maxverstappen1: gasp!

user17: i love how much y/n has really embraced the grid mum life

user18: i don't think she had much choice 😭

user19: the way she's like "oh i'll help you all with anything you need" and takes flo on all of these side missions and the guys just leave them to die 😭

user20: they're such dad's who don't want the cat but end up attached but don't want to show it

jensonbutton: wait which one of us claim alex? is it me? why was i not invited?

alexalbon: ur my williams dad :) and i think this trip needed a woman's touch (and flo's touch obvs)

jensonbutton: rude i give great gifts

fernandoalo_oficial: considering he's one of the least feral and has lily, i want to claim alex

sebastianvettel: i have too many kids you guys can have alex

alexalbon: sebastian! did our gardening afternoons mean nothing ?

lilymunhe: we'll take it nando

sebastianvettel: did you or did you not just make it a competition with george to see who could plant potatoes the fastest and then make a mess of my vegetable garden

georgerussell63: GUILTY

yourusername: soz but you all have to claim all of them, my rules now

user21: y/n and flo going to rule that house with an iron fist

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton and 1,309,244 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

fernandoalo_oficial: glad to be back on the podium, but even more proud to call you my grid kid. we all love you, especially flo :)

view all comments

user24: THEY HAVE MATCHING MIFFY PLUSHIES

user25: miffy is dutch so that might be why max got them matching ones :)

yourusername: and flo is surgically attached to her miffy (she has named her maxi, even if she can barely say it)

maxverstappen1: you are one of my heroes and it was a pleasure to share the podium with you. there's no one else in the world i'd love to dedicate my podium to than lil mia x

fernandoalo_oficial: you've got me crying again

maxverstappen1: get it all out old man

fernandoalo_oficial: already back to the old man 🤨 i guess i'll take the nice messages while i can

user26: nando getting all mushy is so cute i can't believe this is where we are

charles_leclerc: let it be known that if i had a car fast enough i would also dedicate a win to flo, but for now she'll have to settle for a song

fernandoalo_oficial: is silvia going to kill you? because seb and y/n might kill me if they get your ass over this

charles_leclerc: but it's true, no?

fernandoalo_oficial: you will not trick me into slandering my old team charlie

maxverstappen1: LOL YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE

charles_leclerc: YOU KNEW THAT WAS MY IDEA THIEF

sebastianvettel: charles why am i getting a call from silvia?

maxverstappen1: LOL

charles_leclerc: brb just going to lourdes

jensonbutton: lol way to get outshined by your kid

fernandoalo_oficial: at least i was in the position to be outshined by my kid

jensonbutton: ERGH you know you can't bring that up

fernandoalo_oficial: you said that you couldn't wait to get away from us

jensonbutton: oop.

yourusername: my wonderful boys!

maxverstappen1: :D

fernandoalo_oficial: i love you both :)

maxverstappen1: awww thanks nando

fernandoalo_oficial: i meant y/n and flo but sure love you too buddy

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,610,449 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: maxy, this means more than you could know, flo very much enjoyed watching 'blu' go fast :)

view all comments

user27: is this family going to make me cry? maybe.

user28: side note, how many animal onesies does flo have they're so cute

user29: she's like a lil teddy bear

maxverstappen1: glad to have officially won the title of flo's favourite brother

charles_leclerc: NOT SO FAST MISTER

maxverstappen1: maybe if you were faster you would've dedicated a win to flo :P

charles_leclerc: LOW BLOW

danielricciardo: don't even get me started on the daniel ricciardo erasure

maxverstappen1: shush daniel let the problem children talk

charles_leclerc: yeah daniel, problem children only

sebastianvettel: should we intervene?

yourusername: no, i'm intrigued as to where this is going to go

jensonbutton: i for one love watching these dummies fight

fernandoalo_oficial: let me get my popcorn

maxverstappen1: are we just entertainment to you?

jensonbutton: yes!

charles_leclerc: the minute flo can talk ASK HER WHO IS HER FAVOURITE

sebastianvettel: sure?

user30: they can never ask that question, one of them might never recover

maxverstappen1: for real though, i love you guys and i love flo. i'll send nando home with the trophy as well :)

yourusername: awwww thank you maxy :) @sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton new shelf needed please

jensonbutton: i'll leave this one to "the woodwork king"

sebastianvettel: am i the only one who does anything in this house?

fernandoalo_oficial: you can't be called the woodwork king and not do the work

yourusername: you don't even let them help seb

sebastianvettel: UGH.

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 912,774 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

jensonbutton: day 4,000+ of losing our actual girlfriend to our overgrown kids

view all comments

user31: PICTURE OF DANNY WITH FLO ALERT ALERT

yourusername: not my fault you guys picked up so many stray cats while in the sport

jensonbutton: i only claim lando and alex, the rest are the others' faults

yourusername: i know you love it really

jensonbutton: not when the little tornadoes hit our house, eat all of our food and steal my baby

danielricciardo: whoops

jensonbutton: and terrorise my pets DANIEL

danielricciardo: they terrorise each other jenson, maybe they aren't as well trained as you thought

yourusername: oh god...

jensonbutton: HOW DARE YOU !!!! BECKETT, SALMON AND CREAM CHEESE ARE VERY WELL TRAINED AND WELL BEHAVED

user32: old men are going crazy we love to see it

sebastianvettel: are we a bed and breakfast?

yourusername: i fear so. you need to run back from whatever ocean you are in we are low on staff now jenson is back racing. flo might be cute but she's a liability in the kitchen

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe we should just kick them out

yourusername: noooo :( not my babies

fernandoalo_oficial: can we at least charge them?

maxverstappen1: you people are the most stingy millionaires i have ever met

charles_leclerc: i pay you in piano sorry

yourusername: don't listen to them boys, flo and i love having you over

user33: so like is there any way we could open the mamma mia bed and breakfast to the public

fernandoalo_oficial: why do the grid kids see our family more than us?

yourusername: come home more often then :(

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm working on it the plane is delayed :(

jensonbutton: personally i would just run home but that's just me

sebastianvettel: i would simply just walk on water

fernandoalo_oficial: shut up. see you later

yourusername: yay !!!!

fin.

note: writer's block has really been beating my ass so there's always mamma mia to get it flowing again. i'm still working on requests, hopefully they'll come along a little faster now! also - i started an instagram for my small business i am opening it's @badlydrawnf1cats, feel free to follow x

edit: mamma mia will return

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih @duck-duck-goose-18 @dark-night-sky-99 @ironcowboycopnickel @sizzlingghostoperatorbagel @2bormaybenot @42ndbrokencompass @whotfisvale @lichterfee @sticksdoesart @glitterf1 @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @lighttsoutlewis @tagteamedbitch @glow-ish @sadg3 @kagatinkita @litoriaxu

[loveanaox]

TxT Personality Off Camera

(If anyone has any request lemme knowww, cause I'm out of ideas🥲)

.

.

.

Soobin

Cards pulled out: queen of wands, the empress, seven of cups and the fool

So even off camera he is helpful, he helps others, he's confident organizing a lot, a little hot tempered at times, but still quiet, not shy quiet more like confident and still quiet, he watches what to say and not to say. Ja and he does a lot off camera, accomplishing his stuff ect ect.

Ja very nurturing, creative, harmonious.

I think he has a lot of options and shit bit off camera even though he does a lot he procrastinates a lot and a little lazy, tbh I don't blame him, he takes on so many responsibilities he should give himself a break. He also is a little careless off camera, not in a bad way, but super sweet, calm and innocent energy, chill innocent energy

But overall he seems the same just a little more relaxed and chilling.

Love him.

.

.

.

.

.

Yeonjun

Cards pulled out: ace of wands, seven of pentacles, eight of swords and the fool card

Okay so tbh I feel like off camera he still is spontaneous and has his creative spark and likes a challenge, but then he stops himself and really thinks about it and is like, "is this a good idea?" He doubts himself a lot, he feels trapped a lot too. I'm guessing mostly because he's an idol and if he's caught outside doing normal things he might get into trouble. But in general off camera his doubts and fears come to him, shame mann🥺. But off camera he still is careless like Soobin, cuteee.

Anyways yarrr

.

.

.

.

.

.

Beomgyu

Cards pulled out: ace of swords reversed, four of pentacles, eight of cups reversed, seven of wands, two of swords reversed.

Okay damn beomgyu-

So uh, he gets into a lot of arguments off camera maybe with members, he gets frustrated a lot, he also gets his creative side blocked away, he has a lack of emotional maturity and he's very stingy, he holds onto people, things, money, ect ect.

He has a fear of commitment and a fear of moving on. I don't know why though, probably because of the past. Very ja hot headed but also detached at the same time and cold.

Very indecisive and lots of anxiety and fears that get to him. But he's holding onto it, he doesn't want to move away from it. But he still stands up for himself and his beliefs, very like controlling on a way.

Damn okay he has issues, but ay we have to have hope it will get better.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Taehyun

Cards pulled out: nine of pentacles, knight of cups reversed, ace of cups and the devil.

Oh damn.

So Taehyun is still independent off camera and whatever whatever, but he's a heartbreaker-, I think he has a lot of one night stands off camera. I think he tricks people tbh, like "hey you're cute I wanna date", but onky gets in bed with them. That's sad lmao.

He has a lot of issues with addictions maybe obsession on something. Him and Beomgyu seem a little similar ngl. Anyways he gives me a little bit of sad, drunk, dad vibes. A little violent ngl. Abusive in idk what way but ja. Thats just sad. Really sad. Idk

Damn.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Huening Kai

Cards pulled out:page of pentacles reversed, ten of cups reversed, knight of swords and four of cups.

Okay so his head isn't in the head place. He's a little foolish and rebellious in some type of way idk what way. He doesn't take advantage of good opportunities given to him. A little irresponsible. He's having a lot of family issues he's keeping a secret. He acts talkative and shit. Still rebellious and curious but not.

But he's not okay, he's depressed, but ja, that's sad. Idk probs cause of family issues and that he isn't looking at a situation in all types of ways and not his negative way. But ja shame man.

Aye his head really isn't in the right space and he's also trynna be a perfectionist

Damn these are depressing.

.

.

Hope you all enjoyed reading those, I didn't 🥲😭. Anyways byeeeee

[atozfic]

hiiii i hope you’ve been well!! i noticed you said you’ve been writing a bit of siren if it’s not too much to ask can we get a spoiler/snippet from it? i’ve been excited for it ever since i read the synopsis

the spoiler is that the fic is actually a huge prank i've pulled on you all, that i have no intention of actually writing. happy (early) april fools ! here, have a very cringey snippet that i intend to rewrite before officially posting the fic.

warning: this is unedited and likely includes typos/cringe writing from nearly a year ago!!

“do you think its a mermaid?”

the question is met with a slap to the back of the dark haired man’s head, who proceeds to yelp and stare back at his crewmate, confusion and offense swirling in his eyes when he meets the other’s stare.

“shh, you idiot!” the pirate speaks in a hushed tone, through gritted teeth and a serious expression, his eyes still busy looking at the lump of fabric and flesh and hair tangled in a net that lays just at the beach shore. “it could be a siren! we can’t risk waking it up! captain'll kill us if we die.”

the sun has already began to set, alerting them of just how much time has passed since they arrived on the impish island. deserted of any human lives, the spec of land provided them with nothing but natural resources and a perfect spot to dump their unwanted cargo. which, in this very moment, is a sailor they’d caught on board their ship, hiding among barrels in an attempt to attack the beautiful vessel come night fall. what a shame the poor man forgot to counter in just what crew lived aboard such a ship, the young yet already feared group made up of no more and no less than eight men, who have garnered a plethora of names: the ocean’s assassins, the hell bringers, the pirate kings.

many stories have been passed around about the ominous crew, among drunkards in sketchy taverns and the gossiping wives of sailors. some true, some false, yet all painting them in a less than friendly light. their beginning alone is a tale fearsome enough to send shivers down the spine of any well-respected navy commander.

other than the boy who’d betrayed his own father and taken capture of the navy ship, along side the rest of the seven men, little is truly known about the pirate crew. sure, their faces have been seen, their mouths have been kissed by drunken fools, rounds of ale have been brought to them in many a taverns, but never have their names been spoke, never have they shared laughter with a stranger nor spared an inch of mercy for anyone outside of their crew of eight disasters.

thus, no one knows of the true nature of the pirates. and, if there’s anything mankind hates most, it’s the inability to understand, to gain knowledge of something, which is why the group is such a point of contention, an enigma many challenge themselves to solve.

some even going as far to sneak on board their ship.

“wait, do you even get sirens this time of the year?” another slap lands on the back of the man’s head, a slap which he this time returns to his friend in the form of a flick to his ear. “stop hitting me or i’ll tell yeosang it was you who drank the last of the rum!”

“i wouldn’t have to hit you if you didn’t say stupid things.” unbeknownst to the two men, their bickering is attracting the attention of another set of eyes, who watches them from a distance where tree branches still scrape his skin and the sand is yet to fully appear beneath his feet. “do you get sirens this time of the year?! seriously, san? what kind of question is that!”

“the kind of question you’re too dumb to answer!”

“oh, real mature!”

“your mum sure thinks so!”

“what does that even mean?!”

“i don’t know!”

the volume of the two pirates bickering increases to a point where neither of the stealth sea-assassins pick up on the approaching footsteps nor the slow laughter which companies them, the eyes that were watching them now much closer and much more aware of what exactly had prompted the daily argument between the two.

it’s as the one who calls himself san curls his hand around the hilt of his sword that the onlooker decides to step in, knowing yeosang would not appreciate having to waste more thread on stitching up yet another unnecessary wound, just like the crew’s captain would not enjoy having to repeat the same old scoldings the pair received almost at a daily rate.

“you’re both idiots.” perhaps not the best way to make his presence known, but it works either way, prompting both san and wooyoung’s head to snap in his direction, eyes wide in accusation and mouths dropped open in audacity. “you know that, right?”

“fuck off and go back to doing tall people stuff, yunho.” of course it’s wooyoung who speaks first, always the most catty on board the ship and never one to bite back a comment or think before he speaks.

“how are we both idiots?” san, more level-headed even while being prone to arguing, asks with more curiosity than offense, hand lazily thumbing over the bumps and ridges of his intricate sword handle. 

“because, you thought it was a mermaid,” yunho points in san’s direction, who proceeds to avoid eye contact, suddenly finding the look of his sand dusted boots to be the most intriguing thing in the world. the attention is quickly thrown to wooyoung as the tallest among the three point him out. “and you thought it was a siren. now, can you tell me what mermaids and sirens have in common?”

the pair keep quiet, san with red cheeks and wooyoung with a snarl, like he’s trying so hard to calculate his next snarky comment, all in the aim of shrugging off the shame of being called out on his own idiocy. 

“a tail. they both have tails.” when it doesn’t click in either of the two’s heads, yunho sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. brushing past them both, he nudges wooyoung’s shoulder as he cautiously approaches the lump of flesh and fabric, tangled in a web of nets and seaweed. “and that,” he points at the figure, entranced by the subtle yet visible rise and fall of the creature’s breathing. “very clearly has a pair of legs, not a tail.”

[genderflu1dwh0r]

Jade cuffed: Cat, take these handcuffs off and I'll show you how normal I am.

The camera pans to Cat, who is scratched up and her clothes are torn: Fool me seven times, shame on you. Fool me eight or more times, shame on me.

---

Tori tries to give Jade a sedative, but the needle breaks:

Jade: Ah... Much better. You can take off these handcuffs now.

Cat walking over: I'll do it!

Everyone: STOP! NO!

Beck: Moron-

[horizon-verizon]

It was only then that the princess came to realize that she was not there to answer for Tom Turnip, but for more shameful sins. For a moment Saera was at a loss for words, but only for a moment. Then she gasped and said, “My Sweetberry? Truly? She…oh, what has she done? Oh, my sweet little fool.” If Septon Barth’s testimony is to be believed, a tear rolled down her cheek. Her mother was not moved. “You know perfectly well what she has done. What all of you have done. We will have the truth from you now, child.” And when the princess looked to her father, she found no comfort there. “Lie to us again, and it will go very much the worse for you,” King Jaehaerys told his daughter. “Your three lords are in the dungeons, you ought know, and what you say next may determine where you sleep tonight.” Saera crumbled then, and the words came tumbling out one after another in a rush, a flood that left the princess almost breathless. “She went from denial to dismissal to quibbling to contrition to accusation to justification to defiance in the space of an hour, with stops at giggling and weeping along the way,” Septon Barth would write. “She never did it, they were lying, it never happened, how could they believe that, it was just a game, it was just a jape, who said that, that was not how it happened, everyone likes kissing, she was sorry, Peri started it, it was such fun, no one was hurt, no one ever told her kissing was bad, Sweetberry had dared her, she was so ashamed, Baelon used to kiss Alyssa all the time, once she started she did not know how to stop, she was afraid of Stinger, the Mother Above had forgiven her, all the girls were doing it, the first time she was drunk, she had never wanted to, it was what men wanted, Maegelle said the gods forgave all sins, Jonah said he loved her, the gods had made her pretty, it was not her fault, she would be good from now on, it will be as if it never happened, she would marry Red Roy Connington, they had to forgive her, she would never kiss a man again or do any of those other things, it wasn’t her who was with child, she was their daughter, she was their little girl, she was a princess, if she were queen she would do as she liked, why wouldn’t they believe her, they never loved her, she hated them, they could whip her if they wanted but she would never be their slave. She took my breath away, this girl. There was never a mummer in all the land who gave such a performance, but by the end she was exhausted and afraid, and her mask slipped.” “What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure. “You are very proud of yourself, I see. A woman grown, and nearly seven-and-ten. I am sure you think you have been very clever, but it is one thing to be clever and another to be wise. What do you imagine will happen now, Saera?” “I will be married,” the princess said. “Why shouldn’t I be? You were married at my age. I shall be wedded and bedded, but to whom? Jonah and Roy both love me, I could take one of them, but they are both such boys. Stinger does not love me, but he makes me laugh and sometimes makes me scream. I could marry all three of them, why not? Why should I have just one husband? The Conqueror had two wives, and Maegor had six or eight.” She had gone too far. Jaehaerys rose to his feet and descended from the Iron Throne, his face a mask of rage. “You would compare yourself to Maegor? Is that who you aspire to be?” His Grace had heard enough. “Take her back to her bedchamber,” he told his guards, “and keep her there until I send for her again.” When the princess heard his words, she rushed toward him, crying, “Father, Father!” but Jaehaerys turned his back on her, and Gyles Morrigen caught her by the arm and wrenched her away. She would not go of her own accord, so the guards were forced to drag her from the hall, wailing and sobbing and calling for her father.

Fire and Blood, by George R.R. Martin, pg 320-322

[jae-daddy]

Duff (9)

im jaebum au series 

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven  masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader  genre: angst, smurt, cheating plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time does on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: a short one, because I really truly hated where I had left the story last time. it was not it, but I like this. it’s better than the alternative I guess. also, I am writing all of it before publishing it so <3 hope yall like it <3 

You don’t know what came first; the guilt, embarrassment or hurt. 

But you knew yourself well, and you knew guilt didn’t touch your heart until later that night when you were lying in bed. As you stared up at the ceiling, thinking about that him, for the first time guilt laid its icy fingertips on you. 

The first thing you felt was hurt. Hurt that clawed at your heart, and made your soul whimper. Hurt that cut through you entirely as you remained in his arms, watching his face. 

“Yes,” he had said, his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Yes,” you replied, breathing him in as you leaned closer to him. 

You saw his lips draw into a straight line as he pulled away and said, “No.”

“Oh,” was all you said moving away from him. 

A simple sound, not even a word to express the pain that seared through you at his words. 

No.

He didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

You were in his arms, your skirt drawn up to your hips as you sat on his lap. In a single breath, he changed the moment completely, and you were no longer burning in passion, but in agony. Agony of not being desired by this man, not being wanted by him, when you yearned for him. When you were begging for his lips to touch any part of you, he had turned away. 

And then came the embarrassment blazing through the darkness of lust, and it hurt. It stabbed you everywhere till you were shivering in sudden coldness. You were so embarrassed, so ashamed. You had- you had done... all of that, and all he said was ‘no.’ 

It wasn’t the rejection that the embarrassment stemmed from. It was because you had tried, because you thought it would happen, because you thought he wanted you. Because you had offered yourself to him, and all he said to express his repugnance was a simple ‘no.’ 

You climbed off him and walked out the office. Your face was on fire from the shame as you straightened your skirt. You chuckled to yourself thinking a walk of shame was better then trying to hook up with your boss only to be rejected. 

You finished work that day, and the next, like nothing was amiss. As if that moment didn’t happen. As if every time you saw him, you weren’t reminded that he didn’t want you. 

Im Jaebum didn’t want you. 

It shouldn’t hurt that bad, especially since you almost swore you hated him with your heart. But it did, it hurt truly terribly badly, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

You couldn’t even feel sorry for yourself long enough too. Because as soon as the hurt and shame went away, and you looked up at your dark ceiling, you remembered her face. 

You remembered the way she had held your hand whenever you were scared. How she would give you that look every time she took your hand giving her courage. Her love, her kindness, her friendship, her. 

How for the first time since you’ve known her... for the first time, it seemed as if Heather truly liked someone and you... 

You didn’t feel sorry for yourself, or your heart that ached. You weren’t sure if the ache was because of the rejection or from the thought of loosing your best friend. But you didn’t feel sorry because what happened was your fault.

“Thanks for the files, y/n,” Jaebum looked up from his desk. For the first time, he was seated in the big boss seat without any reason. You smiled and nodded, before turning to leave, like nothing was amiss. As if that afternoon had never happened, as if you had never crossed that line.

You were almost out the door when he said, “Have a good weekend.”

Your fingers turned white on the handle, but you nevertheless you turned around and gave him a bright smile, “You too, Mr Im.” 

// 

Heather pouted as she sat next to you, before pulling you into a big bear hug. 

“It’s so nice to have my best friend back,” she sang, happily, hugging you tighter. 

You gave her small smile as you leaned into her, petting her arm, “It’s nice to be back.”

“Gosh, I’m so glad you’re done with that internship,” she huffed over the loud music of the club. 

You only nodded as you took a sip of your drink, “I still have three weeks left, Heather.” 

“Three weeks pass by like nothing,” she shook her head. She turned to you with a bright smile, “Remember Bali? Maybe now that you’re going to be more free, maybe we can...” 

She gave you a huge grin, quizzically raising her brows up and down to the music. Before she began bopping her head like a dork to the beat, “What do you say, y/n?” 

I’m sorry. 

“Whatever you want,” you smiled at her, and she exclaimed in joy. 

// 

“Mr Park Jinyoung is now officially the CEO of Spring Industries, and has sent forward a report and plan for their proposal,” You looked up to see Jaebum opening his mouth, but you cut him off knowing his question. “The file is already on your desks, and I have included a summary report from myself and Mr Paul.” 

You had a month and a bit to think about what had happened. In the beginning, you had blamed yourself. It was foolish of you to put yourself out there for him, but the more you thought about the angrier you got. 

It wasn’t all in your head. Im Jaebum did flirt with you. 

He gave you all the signals, all the green lights, and the arrows leading you to him. He basically had made a pathway for you to follow into his arms, and after all that he said no? 

No. 

No, it wasn’t your fault for putting yourself out there for him. You had done it because you thought... you felt that he too... but who knows, Im Jaebum was friendly with everyone. 

But he did tell others his wish was to kiss them?

Did he ever follow anyone to the rooftop of a club and call himself a fool for letting them go?

Did he talk to everyone about his mother?

Did he smile like that at everyone? Look at them like that? Touch them with the faintest touch of his fingertips?

But you should’ve known better. 

These rich guys never go for girls like you. 

You don’t have any money, any wealth, nothing to offer them to make their status go up. You weren’t even pretty enough to be a trophy wife. You were just a girl they could play with behind closed doors. 

But for Jaebum, you weren’t even worth that.

“Spring Industries is having a party on Thursday to announce Park Jinyoung as their new appointed CEO. They have requested your presence to show the companies are friendly--,” you once again looked up from your iPad, to find Jaebum staring at you intently. You ignored his gaze, and the rage that fumed inside you, “It’s most likely a political publicity stunt, but I would recommend you do go to the party, as it will be beneficial for you both-”

“What am I going to do about you?” 

“Excuse me?” You gasped, taken aback. 

Jaebum chuckled, humourlessly. His lips twisted into a smirk, and you realised you hadn’t seen him smile or laugh in a really long time. You tried to shove the pain shooting towards your heart away, but a pang still rang through you as you saw his sad smile. 

“How am I going to do this all without you?” He clarified himself. You stammered unable to think of something to say. Jaebum let out a sigh, “Come to the party with me.” 

“I’m afraid that’s-”

Jaebum interrupted you, making you frown. 

“Your last assignment as my secretary, Miss y/n,” Jaebum tilted his head to the side, smiling slightly as he said, “Come with me.” 

No. 

“What about Heather?” 

“I can’t go to formal gatherings with her without others assuming it's a political play,” Jaebum answered, before shrugging, “It’s too early for that step anyway.” 

Too early? They have been dating for months now, and Heather was head over heels for him, and he is saying it’s too early. 

“I-”

“Please, y/n,” Jaebum’s dark eyes bore into yours, and you held your breath. “One last time.” 

"Alright,” you sighed, defeated. 

“Thanks.” 

Thanks, love, the ghost of his past self whispered.

You swallowed the bitterness, before looking down at your iPad once again. 

“Mr Henry and Mark are...” you continued on as if nothing was wrong. 

Because nothing was wrong. 

Everything was right. 

You were about to end this dreadful internship, and come out debt free. 

Heather was in love with her boyfriend. 

Her boyfriend didn’t fuck her best friend. 

And your best friend was still your best friend. 

Everything was just right, but everything felt so wrong. 

// 

You were leaning against the rich white leather sofa and Heather’s shoulders. Your eyes were closed, as you tried not to break down in front of your best friend. 

You knew Jaebum wasn’t going to be here tonight. It was Friday night and he had a company dinner with the upper shareholders today. So, tonight you decided to sleep over at Heather’s house. 

Just like every moment you spent with her now, you wanted to burst out into tears and tell her everything. Tell her how you fell for him and his teasing words. How you didn’t mean to but you started to like him, how your heart ached every time you saw him. How terrible you felt every time you saw Heather smile at you like that, knowing that you were so close to ruining everything. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” Heather asked, her soft hands wiping the tears that fell onto your cheeks. 

You shook your head and moved away from her shoulder. You leaned into the corner of your sofa, and tried to hold in the tears. But you couldn’t. 

Your chin began to shake as more tears fell from your eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Heather moved towards you quickly. “What’s wrong, babe? You can tell me anything.” 

You shook your head, you couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t tell her this. You couldn’t lose her. 

“I’m sorry, Heather,” you whispered into her tank top as she pulled your shaking body into her. 

“Shhh,” she hushed, brushing your hair, trying to calm your sobbing body, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s only to be okay. I’m here for you, I’m always going to be here for you. Okay?” 

You bit your lip as you cried harder. You managed a meek okay through your tears. 

After you had calmed down a bit, you leaned back and looked at your best friend. Her eyes were glistening with concern, and a few stray tears running down her face too from seeing you cry. 

You couldn't hide it from her, she was your other half. You had to tell her, but all you could manage was, “I love him, Heather.” 

I love Im Jaebum.

[goldencuffs]

persuasion

@lamenweek day six: auguste lives au

It’s four-thirty on a Wednesday, and Damen is exhausted, worn down and irritated over the fact that he’s still stuck in the gym storage room, sorting through eight boxes of equipment.

The year seven kid in here with him, Peter, is slow and mullish: he’s only here because Huet gave him detention for not doing his homework for the third week in a a row.

Damen is here because his entire faculty is incompetent. These boxes were supposed to be unpacked a month ago, at the start of the term, but after Kallias walked out, things have been… hectic, to say the least.

In the stifling heat, Peter’s odour is unpleasant, because he’s thirteen, and thirteen year old boys reek.

Damen is seriously considering telling him to leave, but the extra pair of hands, no matter how small and slow, are still better than nothing.

Then, Damen hears the squeak of trainers across the shiny linoleum floor, and a tall, slim figure leans against the doorway, arms crossed.

Damen bites back a sigh, his irritation spiking.

Laurent says, “Hey you, fuck off.”

Peter balks. “Me?”

Damen has his back turned, but in the ensuing silence, he knows that Laurent is staring the poor kid down, unwilling to repeat himself.

“Mr Vallis…” Peter starts, voice high and whiny.

This time Damen sighs loudly. “It’s fine, Peter. You can go home.”

Peter does so, without a goodbye, and when the gym doors close once more, Laurent says, “Damen, I need to talk to you.”

Damen turns around, mirroring Laurent’s pose. “Laurent, I’ve told you a hundred times not to call me by name at school. It’s Mr Vallis to you inside these gates. Always.”

Laurent rolls his eyes. Everything about him, as usual, is immaculate. There isn’t a single hair out of place, he’s still wearing his blazer, and unlike the most boys in this school, he hasn’t loosened his tie or unbuttoned his shirt to wave off the heat.

The only indication that he isn’t a weird, strange robot is the pink across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

“Unless you’re planning on help me with this, I need you to fuck off too,” Damen says, ready to turn back around.

“Actually, Mr Vallis,” Laurent straightens, and Damen doesn’t miss the inflection in his name, “I need a favour.”

Damen unpacks the third box, almost bursting into tears when he sees they’re nets. Nets always go on the top shelf. His back is going to break by the end of it.

“What is it?” He belatedly asks, realising Laurent is watching him.

Laurent presses his tongue to his top lip. “I know there’s a spot open on the wrestling team, and it would look really good on my uni applications if I wrote that I’m—”

“I’m going to stop you right there, Revere. I already told you before the holidays that if your grades don’t improve—”

“They have! I managed to get a B in Ancient History—"

“You need a B average, not just in one subject. I’ve already checked, and you’re barely scraping a C.”

Laurent makes an indignant scoff. “Yes, but it would be a B average if Auguste helped me out with Chemistry—which is the only subject I’m failing, by the way. And he doesn’t help me at all—what’s the point of him being the best Chem teacher at this school if he won’t put me in his class!”

Damen runs a hand over his face. “You know you can’t have your brother teaching you—it’s against school policy.”

“Fine, whatever,” Laurent shrugs. “But, I swear I’ve been trying Dam—Mr Vallis. Can’t you make an exception for me?”

“Absolutely not,” Damen snorts.

“Ugh! What’s the point of knowing teachers if they don’t help you out when you need it?”

Damen shrugs. “Tough luck, kid. If I gave you the spot, it might keep someone who actually deserves it from joining.”

“I deserve it.”

Damen rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Laurent adopts a haughty look, head held high. “I’ll tell your boyfriend Auguste that you’re being a dick—”

“We’ve been over this Laurent; I’m not dating your brother.”

“Hmm, could have fooled me,” Laurent mutters in a dangerous undertone. “All that touching and cuddling and inside jokes—”

Damen knows that he shouldn’t rise to bait presented to him by a belligerent eighteen year old, but he’s tired, and it’s been a long, long day so he snaps, “Yeah, that’s what friends do, you little shit. Not that you would know what it’s like to have one.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it: Damen is the adult here (the proper one) and more importantly, he’s Laurent’s teacher. A professional.

Laurent’s face falls, and genuine hurt settles into his eyes.

The corners of his mouth droop, and his voice shakes as he says, “You’re such an asshole.”

Damen sighs, “Laurent—”

“Fuck you, Damen,” Laurent says, and turns on his heel in one smooth, elegant move.

*

Two weeks later, Auguste holds one last barbeque party to mourn the end of summer.

It’s not a crowded party: just four other teachers from school, two of Auguste’s uni friends, and of course, bloody Laurent.

He hasn’t said a single word to Damen all afternoon, the rude shit. Not that Damen expects anything less from the most prickly person he knows.

Laurent normally doesn’t even hang out with them, but since he turned eighteen over the winter, Auguste has been trying to include him in their gatherings a lot more.

It’s still a bit surreal to see Laurent easily holding down conversations with men twice his age, a beer bottle pressed to his mouth.

(That part is not so surprising. Damen caught Laurent guzzling an entire bottle of wine when he was sixteen, in this very kitchen).

Orlant touches Laurent’s knee, and says something that makes him laugh raucously.

Damen stands from the couch and makes his way over.

“Hey,” he says, “I think your brother’s calling you.”

Laurent frowns, eyes drifting over to the alfresco, where Auguste is belting Wannabe by Spice Girls and ignoring the grill, Lazar attempting to beatbox along with the words.

God, the steaks are going to burn.

“I don’t think so,” Laurent says.

When Damen doesn’t leave, Orlant says, “You good, man?”

Damen doesn’t bother to reply. He frowns at Laurent. “You’ve been drinking non stop since you got here.”

Laurent throws him a disgusted look. “You’re not my teacher outside of school hours. Fuck off.”

Orlant raises an eyebrow, looking between them. “You’re his student?”

“Barely,” Laurent mutters. “He just makes us do laps and teaches us abstinence like a pastor from the seventies.”

“The curriculum suggests that I—”

“And he won’t put me on his wrestling team because of a small technicality.”

“It’s not a small—”

“You should let him on the team, man,” Orlant says, smiling at Laurent.

Laurent smiles back, eyelashes fluttering.

Damen frowns again.

“Thank you,” Laurent says to Orlant. “I wish you were the coach. Nikandros spent all summer helping me perfect my form, and it’s all been for nothing.”

Damen feels his face crack. “Nikandros? Since when have you been hanging out with him?”

Laurent gives him a devious smile. “Oh, I can be very persuasive. He spent the entire time telling me how good I was.” He flutters his lashes at Damen this time. “It’s a shame you won’t be able to see for yourself, Mr Vallis.”

Orlant watches Laurent shamelessly.

Damen grits his teeth, blood rushing to his head, and grips Laurent’s bicep, ignoring his “Hey!”

He drags Laurent to the unoccupied living room, pushing him away in disgust the moment they’re alone. “What the fuck is your problem, Revere?”

“What the fuck is yours?” Laurent snaps, rubbing his bicep. “Have you lost it already? You usually go crazy around midterms.”

“Shut up,” Damen hisses. “What are you playing at? Did you seriously go to Nikandros for wrestling tips?”

Laurent is still rubbing his bicep, the drama queen. “Well, yes. You wouldn’t help me, so I had to look somewhere else for… expertise. And Nikandros was more than willing to help. Eventually.”

Damen can feel a headache coming on. “Nikandros is shit at wrestling.”

Laurent laughs. “Oh my god. You’re acting like a baby.” “And you’re being your usual intolerable self.”

“Oh, fuck you.” Now Laurent looks livid, his eyes flashing with malice.

“You haven’t even tried to get to know me for the last three years. When you told me I had to improve my grades, I studied my ass off. I got a tutor. I even went to fucking summer school. And yeah, I might only have a C average, but I’ve improved in literally everything. I’ve only failed one subject! At least Nikandros was willing to listen to me. You just behave like an ass.”

Damen swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks away, down at the shiny, tiled floor.

He sighs, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

Damen looks at Laurent, at the sun shining down his head. “I said I’m sorry. Perhaps I have been… a little unfair.”

Laurent snorts and presses his mouth together,

“I didn’t realise how hard you’ve been working,” Damen says, appreciative. “I’m proud of you.”

Laurent goes red. He rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Whatever. You’re still a dick.”

Damen smiles. “Yeah, I guess.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence.

Then Damen says, “Okay, give me your speech.”

“My speech, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah,” Damen raises an eyebrow. “Give me whatever speech you gave Nikandros. If it can convince him to teach you to wrestle, it might convince me to give you a shot on the team.”

Laurent stands straight, assessing him for a moment. “Are you sure, Mr Vallis?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Laurent gives him a smile Damen has never seen before. It unleashes something dark in his eyes.

Damen swallows, his heart suddenly picking up pace.

Laurent saunters towards him, still with that smile. He comes close enough that Damen can see the small smattering of freckles on his nose.

Damen presses his back to the counter. “Laurent…”

Laurent bites his lip. “Everyone thinks you’re the hottest teacher at school, Mr Vallis. I’ve had a crush on you since my first year.”

Damen coughs, startled. “Laurent, what…”

“Do you want me to give my speech or not?”

Damen’s chest heaves with his breaths. He assesses Laurent’s beautiful face, his mind carefully shutting down.

“Yes,” he says quietly.

Laurent’s smile is sweet and shy.

He’s still wearing that smile when he gets down on his knees. His fingers are quick, nimble as they unbuckle Damen’s belt.

The clank of metal is loud, even amongst the drone of the party.

Damen should stop this. He should say something. Laurent is his student. More than that, he’s his best friend’s just-legal little brother. Damen should—

Laurent kisses the tip of his cock through the cloth, dragging his tongue over it, making it damp.

“Fuck, Laurent.”

Laurent pulls back and smiles at him, eyes half-mast. “I managed to convince Nikandros in about three minutes. Do you think you’ll last a bit longer?”

Damen grunts, hips moving in aborted jerks as Laurent slides down his underwear.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27​ and @girl-next-door-writes​ for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this. 

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part) 

Warnings: Absolutely none. 

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh. 

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all. 

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight. 

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me. 

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer. 

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started. 

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is. 

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’ 

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris. 

******

If you liked what you read, how about slamming that reblog button and help spread my work? If you leave a little comment on top of that, you’ll be in my heart forever. 

Want a tag? I got you!! Just send me an ASK and I'll add you. 

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

[navegandoaciegas]

Father James has a unique way of punishing you for your sins.

Kinktober 6/31: spanking

Bucky Barnes x Reader [Priest AU] (smut, explicit language, spanking, degrading dirty talk, sex in a public place) + kind of naive reader

A/N: Day 6 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 Spooky Challenge + Kinktober. School is back, and I’m stressed, so I needed something easy today.

when you go to church that monday night to confess your sins to father james, you are ready for the usual penance: hail marys, acts of contrition, multiple rosaries, good deeds, charity, promises to do better next week. however, what you get is not what you expected.

“i see you’ve been a very bad, mean girl, and your behavior hasn’t been improving” he tells you once you’re finished recounting your deeds. shame makes heat travel up your face...and down in your belly

his voice drops an octave lower when he says bad, sending shivers down your spine, and you squirm in your seat and clench you thighs in response

the tingles in your lower belly, the ones you usually get when you touch yourself in the privacy of your own room at night, are more intense than ever

“bad girls need to be punished before the Lord’s eyes, my child. C’mere.”

he pulls you down and bends you over his thick thighs, smoothing the creases on the back of your dress “a good spanking will teach you some manners, angel. i want you to count each one. if you skip any, we start all over again.”

you frown, but nod. your parents used to spank you sometimes, as a child. i can’t be much different from that, right?

a hand caresses your ass, sliding down to your pussy, and he chuckles when he feels the wet patch on your cotton panties.

so naive, so sweet, and so wet for him

you squirm on his legs. his hand feels good but... he shouldn’t do that, right?

he strikes you harshly, the impact making you yelp in pain.

father james tuts in disapproval. “such a dumb little slut, can’t even count to one, can you?”

you gasp at his word of choice, and feel your cunt clench around nothing

he spanks you harder, and you croak out a resigned “one”

there’s tears in your eyes and wetness pooling in your underwear. “two, three, four”

“five, six” the sting of his spanks set your skin ablaze and make your walls throb like nothing has ever done before

the slapping sound reverberates in the church

“seven, eight, nine” until you lose count and the heat in your cunt becomes unbearable.

you whimper when his fingers graze your swollen lips, before another spank, “twenty”

the coil in your belly gets tighter with each spank. you never imagined pain would feel so good

taking in the tears streming down you face and your soaked pussy, he decides he’s punished you enough. “how good are you, little girl? do you want to do right by the lord?”

you bite your lips and nod

“then you’ll let me fuck this pretty pussy of yours. look how wet you are for me”

you feel blood rush to your face at his words. it’s wrong, he’s a man of church... but you need his heavy weight inside you too much to care

besides, he’s a holy man, and a holy man can’t corrupt your flesh, can he? he can only bless it, right? better him than the other boys you fool around with

he frees his cock from his briefs, and it spings against his cassock. you mouth waters at the sight of the ridged and veins on the sides and the liquid leaking out of his tip

he wastes no time, lining himself up with your dripping entrance, impaling you on his length.

you’re writhing above him, your little moans and whimpers filling the room as he bounces you on his cock, revelling in the way your walls grip him tightly

when you get too loud, he slaps a hand on your mouth to silence you

“you are such a dirty whore, you want everyone to find us, don’t you? you want everyone to see your priest’s cock inside your cunt. i knew you were dumb, a dumb cockwhore. but we can’t have everyone see us, can we?”

he keeps bouncing you on his cock, hitting a sensitive spot inside you, whispering filth in your ears, “my cockdrunk slut, i can’t wait to stuff you with my cum, that’s all a pretty little fuckdoll like you is good for”

you feel his cock swell inside you and his panting in your ears, “fuck, you feel so good baby, this pussy is so tight, ‘m close”

your orgasm explodes in your cunt and shakes your whole body, vision blanking for a second as your eyes roll to the back of your head and pleasure jerks every nerve ending of your body.

he follows close behind, changing his mind at the last second and shooting his warm load on your lower belly

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, angel, i’m sure the lord will forgive you now”

you walk home that night with a smile on your face and a pleasant ache between your legs, with the promise to come confess your sins more often

Priest bucky two days is a row, are you mad about it?

[heliosthegriffin]

Bad Girls love good men, Part II

Part 1

------

Jaune returns from the store with a bag of grocery's in his arms with Emerald following behind him carrying some bags as well.

Raven is staring at them as they bring in bags of food, her eyes darting from bag to bag with a feverish intensity, but stays put on the couch.

Jaune goes back out for more grocery, Emerald scowls at Raven.

Emerald: For house mother you really don’t do much, do you?

Raven reclines back into the couch: Perks of seniority.

Emerald rolls her eyes: Perks of being a freeloader.

Raven: Whatever moss-head.

Emerald turns red face and stomps off to the kitchen to put away the bags.

Jaune returns back in carrying the last of the bags.

Raven’s eyes glint at the package in Jaune’s arm and leaps at him.

Jaune casually shifts his grocerys into his other loaded arm and catches Raven with a iron-claw.

Jaune tightens his grip on Raven’s face: What are you doing Raven?

Raven starting to sweat: Um, nothing?

Jaune walks into the kitchen with Raven, puts down the bags, and pulls out a bag of Grimm-Dust Suckers, Extra-POP!

Jaune: You wouldn’t be trying to steal these, would you?

Raven still in a iron-claw whistles innocently.

Jaune sighs: Raven, I know that quitting smoking is hard, but come on, the suckers are for everyone, not just for you.

Raven blushing: Don’t shame my oral fixation!

Jaune raises an eyebrow: I didn’t say anything about that, anyway, I’m not letting you trade one addiction for another. You can have one sucker if you help put up the grocery's, one after dinner, and one after work out. Are we, clear? Three after these three task are done.

Raven mumbles behind Jaune’s hand.

Jaune says sharp: What was that? I couldn’t hear you!

Raven: FINE! I’ll help you put up the stuff.

Jaune drops Raven from his hand, smiling at her: Good, hop too it.

Raven sullenly mutters: You’re lucky I’m not a Faunus, or I’d bitch you out about racism.

Jaune ignores her goes back to putting up grocery's, while still holding onto the suckers.

Emerald smirks dutifully doing her chores.

Jaune pivots on his feet and grabs at thin air above a bag.

Neo is shattered out of her semblance as she starts whistles innocently.

Jaune scowling: That goes for you too young lady. Help, or wait till after dinner for a serving of ice-cream.

Neo still reaches for the ice-cream attempting to ignore Jaune.

Jaune sighs again: Fine be that way.

Jaune touches Neo’s head and whispers: Anima mea cincinno

Neo’s eyes go wide as her own Aura freezes into place trapping her into a prison made of her own soul.

Jaune while going back to putting up grocery's: Don’t worry, Neo, It’ll unlock in around fifteen minutes. Just enough time for me to put up the ice cream.

A single tear goes down Neo’s face.

Emerald and Raven shiver at the sight, but continue doing their chores unfaltering.

------

Vernal throws a stick at Jaune as he’s reclining in his chair.

Vernal holding a wooden bokken: Fight me, nerd!

Jaune lets the stick hit him, it bounces off his aura and falls to the ground.

Jaune: Vernal, not now sweetie, I’m just got back from work, I don’t want to play right now. Go ask Raven.

Vernal goes red-faced: I’m not your sweetie! I’m a cool, venomous bitch!

A brief popping is heard before a marble-sized aura bead hits Vernal in the forehead. Vernal falls to the floor clutching her forehead.

Vernal: OW OW OW!

Jaune scowling at Vernal: Language, watch your language or I’ll watch it for you. Now, I know you didn't’ have a good childhood, but I’m trying Vernal, just give me a moment to rest and I’ll fight you.

Vernal looking sullenly at the floor, her forehead red from where the aura marble hit her. 

Vernal: You promise?

Jaune nods: On my word.

Vernal: Ok, you better, otherwise you’re a coward.

Vernal say the words not having much heat.

Jaune chuckles and lets her be.

------

Jaune has Neo tied up in a chair, he scowls at her.

Jaune: Alright you little gremlin, what did you do?

Neo innocently bats her eyes at Jaune changing her eye color as she does so.

Jaune flicks her head with a aura-charged finger knocking Neo’s head back, shattering her semblance showing she was trying to pick the lock.

Jaune with a smirk: Fool me once, shame on you. Try and fool me, twice? Not gonna happen.

Jaune pull up a chair and turns it around to rest his arms on the back.

Jaune: You’re trying to fool a guy who can see your soul and aura movements, you’re not as slick as you think you are.

Neo scowls and sticks her tongue out at him.

Jaune: Anyway, you gremlin agent of chaos, what did you do today? You’ve been quiet too quiet.

Neo smiles innocently and moves her head from side to side like a pendulum, tapping her fingers to sound like ticking.

Jaune rolls his head and shoulders: Nice try, Gremlin, but you can only play the I’ve hidden a bomb in the house card, so many times before I figure out how to disarm of them you can make.

Neo pouts.

Jaune: I found seven bombs, did I miss any?

Neo looks confused and the word Seven appears on her right eye and ? on the left.

Jaune: Actually eight, but that on my car from some White-Fang saboteur. I got admit, I’m curious where you got the materials for C-4 and how to make pipe bombs.

Neo reels back and struggles with her bindings.

Jaune unties her, and she quickly signs: I didn’t plant that many bombs! At least not the dangerous ones! I just did pranks bombs, like planting fire-crackers in Raven’s toilet and setting up a banana cream pie bomb for Yang!

Jaune looks unfazed: Huh, I wonder who’s bomb these are then and why they are setting to go off in my house?

Neo goes pale as a sheet.

Neo signs: Aren’t you worried?

Jaune laughs: Ha, no, not after my first house got bombed, I started thinking crafty, I got together with some Atlas Scientists and Professor Peach, and we spit-balled the idea of a living house made of aura-awakened trees. Long story short, not very feasible as tree don’t have a very strong sense of self so they dissipate aura quickly, but as long as I amp up my house, it’s sturdier than any shelter and capable of regenerating any damage.

Neo nods confused.

A loud thump is heard up-stairs.

Jaune nods: There goes one, and two, and three. I’m losing my edge, Neo start hiding more bomb for me to find.

Neo nods amazed and mildly terrified, lifting a shaky thumb with a the words ‘Can Do!’ floating above her.

------

[meetmeatthecoda]

I am shocked. And devastated. And just... deeply saddened.

Firstly, I have no ill will toward Megan. It has never seemed like she’s had a 100% fabulous experience on the show, for a variety of reasons, but we certainly don’t know all the facts, and it’s really none of our business. Of course, she has the absolute right to pick whatever projects she wants to work on & when. And who knows, she could want to spend more time with or perhaps grow her family. Regardless, I wish her the best.

Secondly, I am... confused & appalled at the writers. Not only for all their previous poor decisions (which I suppose are, after all, a matter of opinion & more importantly, I’m not interested in going into them right now/again) but for the way they handled this. Just... they obviously knew this was coming - these things have to be decided in advance - & this is how they chose to write their final season with their lead? I’m... aghast. She was straight-up gone for a portion (though we don’t know the truth behind that, to be fair), villianized for most of it, & pretty much hated for all of it. They knew she was leaving & they couldn’t be bothered to at least try to redeem her character & wrap up her arc in a positive way? Not to mention repair her relationship with the other main character, WHICH IS BY THE WAY THE ENTIRE PREMISE OF THE SHOW. I’m just... baffled. Granted, who knows what they’ll pull out of their rears for these last two eps but... I’m not fooling myself into expecting anything good.

Thirdly, all that “real life” business said... personally? I’m so upset. I saw the headline on my phone first thing when I woke up & the most awful horror spread through my chest. I know that sounds dramatic but... listen. This show means a lot to me. For all that I bitch about it (which I know is a lot), this show has been a constant in my life for over 8 years &... that’s a long-ass time. It’s seen me through the end of high school, undergraduate school, graduate school, AND a world-wide pandemic. I made this tumblr specifically to join the Lizzington community, I’ve made such incredible friends through it, & I started writing just for this ship. My time here has been a rock in tough times, a guilty pleasure, & a place to escape. I’ve met amazing people all over the world - some of the loveliest & purest relationships I’ve ever had - and even actual physical penpals, none of which I would have had the opportunity to do without this show. Watching the fandom slowly shrink as friends & acquaintances move on to bigger & better things has been so sad to see & I’m afraid of that just being compounded with the few of us left. I don’t want to lose the friends I’ve made because the show is effectively over. Maybe I’m being overly-sentimental because this is my first active fandom experience but... I don’t care. That’s how I feel. I’m not even sure what I’ll blog about anymore with no show to theorize about, no gifs to cry over, no crappy plots to bitch about. And in terms of fic... I don’t know. I’d certainly like to finish what I have in my line-up, but I’m not sure about after that. I’d love to finish my WIPs & write the vision I’ve always had for my final Lizzington fic. It makes me so sad to think of not writing anymore but if there’s no show? What else can I do? I won’t be stopping immediately but, as I suppose it’s always been, the conclusion of the show is tied to the lifespan of my fics & when one ends... I think so does the other. And that thought makes me so unbelievably sad.

I think I’m mostly gutted because I just wasn’t expecting this. I NEVER thought either Megan or James leaving before the natural conclusion of the show was EVER a possibility. And, more importantly, I thought we had at least one more season. Ever since renewals came into real question around season seven or so, it occurred to me that I should try to prepare for the eventual end. And I was mentally preparing for it! But, since the news that there will be a season 9, I was counting on at least one more year. Would it be bad? Probably. Would it be worth watching? Probably not. Would there be any Lizzington? Unlikely. But would I be able to liveblog & scream about it with my friends? Yes. Would there be inspiration for new fics? You bet. Would there be the smallest, tiniest, little glimmer of hope for Lizzington? .....Yes. Some may argue there was never any hope to begin with (& we would obviously disagree) but that’s the thing about hope: as long as there’s a little, there’s some. But there’s not anymore. Because without Megan, there’s no Liz, & without Liz, there’s no possibility for Lizzington. At least for me. So, to go from counting on at least one more season before it was time to prepare for the end of this whole experience, to suddenly just two episodes is... so painful. Just one week left. After eight seasons. And more than eight years. Usually you have so much more build-up before series finales, which is effectively what this is for me. To not have that just makes everything feel so... pointless. I know it’s not &, despite the shit show this all turned out to be, I WILL have fond memories of this time. And I WILL eventually get over it. It just... feels like a huge loss. Because it is. It’s unexpected. And devastating. And while it’s super dramatic & way over-the-top to say it... I feel like I’m grieving right now. This show - & more so this ship - meant so much to me. And I feel like we lost that today. Who knows what they’ll do in these next 2 episodes - if they’ll chose to retcon the mythology or if they’ll successfully tie up all the loose ends? If they’ll end with Red & Liz on good terms or friends (or more?) or if they’ll OOC tf out of the relationship in an attempt to set things up for season 9 & whatever their weird plans are...

But, I’m sorry, no matter what they’re planning? I won’t be watching season 9. The Blacklist has always - from the first promo - been about Red & Liz & their relationship. TPTB seem to have forgotten that. And to quote Megan... “I think it’s a love story.”

It’s a shame we never got to see it.

[lesmis-lesmisera-lesohno]

@aromantic-enjolras, @p-trichor

*awkward wave* hiiiiiiii:))))

okay so i know i said i would write this last week, but tbh, last week was a w e e k (fuckyouanxiety)

anyways, i have written down my headcanons for the werewolf au! it is a bit of a mess, and it probably doesn't make much sense but! i did it!:))

i honestly wasn't planning on writing this much tho, it kinda got away from me lol, but i would have written more tbh, if it wasn't already so long

(also now that i have written this i really want to draw this whole thing, somebody please s t o p m e)

(also if anyone wants to take this shitty au idea and actually write a fic, i would be absolutely delighted! and! i would love to do art for it!:))))

enjoy this mess i guess:))))

General:

This is a fantasy au, set in a slightly ambiguous time period (I'm thinking anywhere from the middle ages, to today, mixed together and thrown in a blender:)))

Werewolves and other monsters live side by side with humans, but often have to hide their identity for fear of discrimination and unjust prosecution

Les Amis de l'ABC Is an activist group, fighting against the discrimination of werewolves and other monsters

The group consists of both humans and non-humans

Grantaire:

He was born with lycanthropy, as the result of a curse placed upon his parents before he was born

His parents didn't want a wolf child, so they abandoned him in the woods as a newborn, where he was found by an old woman who took him in

The old woman had been raised by witches, and though not skilled in the art of magic herself, had quite the talent for medecine, and remedies, and was well equipped to take care of a young werewolf

And so, for most of his childhood, Grantaire and the old woman lived peacefully and happily in a small cottage in the woods

The old woman taught him to read and write, and gifted him with books on mythology, art, and magic, and on full moon nights, he would be allowed to roam the woods

When he was eight he met Enjolras for the first time

They never knew each other by name, they were just two children playing together in the woods, referring to each other as 'friend'

A year later Grantaire tells Enjolras about his lycanthropy, and the following week, Enjolras stops coming to the woods

Grantaire learned to keep his lycanthropy to himself after that

When he was seventeen, Grantaire left the safety of the small cottage behind, wanting to explore more of the world than the woods he had been raised in. He left the old woman with the promise that he would write home with tales of his adventures, and would visit whenever he was in the area.

A werewolf is not, as you might have heard, some kind of vicious, mindless beast. If you stay out of it's path and treat it with respect, it should pose no particular danger, to anyone but the fools stupid enough to threaten it.

Unfortunately most people do not know this fact, and Grantaire quickly learned to hide everything that about himself that tied him to the wolf.

He was nineteen, when the old woman he had lived with his whole childhood, sent him a letter telling him not to come visit anymore. A while later he found out that she had been arrested and executed for alleged crimes against the country. And he realized, that her letter had not been her rejecting him, but a warning, and that her only crime had been housing a werewolf.

Around the same time, he started drinking. He started sleeping around with anyone who would take him. And he fell into cynicism and depression

The boy who had been raised with love and care, and had gone out into the world, hopeful, and eager to create his own path, had now seen just how cruel the world could be to anyone it deemed a threat, or viewed as different. He was done fighting.

When he was twenty five he met Les Amis de l'ABC, and he fell in love. For the first time in six years, he felt hope again.

Enjolras:

Ejolras was born with a tail. No one knew exactly how or why, except maybe his parents, but to them the fact that their only child had a tail, was their greatest shame, and as far as they were concerned, it had to stay hidden at all times

In every other aspect, Enjolras was perfect. Having been born with beautiful golden locks, and radiant blue eyes, and being rather mild marrered, his parnents would recieve many compliments on their child's good looks and behaviour

Enjolras might have been a soft spoken child, but his favourite thing was playing outside in the woods, much to his parents frustration. Enjolras also did not like his parents very much

Enjolras' parents were very conservative, very outspoken against anything they didn't agree with, and most of all, not very good people. Not that anyone but Enjolras seemed to notice this, they were wealthy after all, and were respected members of the community.

When Enjolras was six, he met Grantaire and he made his first friend

Grantaire doesn't care that Enjolras has a tail. Grantaire doesn't care that Enjolras likes to play outside, and gets dirty sometimes. Grantaire doesn't care that he doesn't wear the dresses his mother buys him, or that he isn't really a girl.

Grantaire is weird, and he is Enjolras' favourite person

When Grantaire tells him that he is a werewolf, Enjolras knows his parents are wrong

He gets in a fight with them.the following week, and the next day his parents hire a surgeon to remove his tail, and he is shipped off to boarding school

Enjolras cries for weeks after that

At school he meets Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and they quickly become his most trusted friends

It's not until years later that he realizes that neither of them are completely human, and he accepts them fully , just as they have always accepted him

When he is thirteen, his two best friends are sent away, and for the first time in seven years he feels entirely alone

At sixteen he runs away from home, and from school, and from everything he has ever known.

The first of the amis he meets is Bahorel. They meet after he gets into a fight with three people twice his size, and Bahorel saves him. He proceeds to call Enjolras an idiot, and takes him under his wing.

Bahorel is seven years older than him, and a werewolf, and he introduces him to Feuilly and Jehan (a human and a wood nymph)

He meets Joly and Bossuet next

Joly is dabbling in witchcraft next to his medical studies, an Bossuet is his boyfriend who has been cursed from an early age with bad luck

Enjolras takes to his new friends instantly and together they form Les Amis de l'ABC

Enjolras is twenty and he is the leader of an activist group fighting for the rights of every creature and human alike

Two years later Combeferre and Courfeyrac finds him again

They find him by accident, having heard of the group and decided to attend a meeting. The moment Enjolras sees them, his eyes light up, and he embraces them both in a crushing hug. The rest of the group warms up to them immediately

A year later Grantaire joins them, and Enjolras doesn't recognize him

[world-of-aus]

Family Matters - (Part 2)

Pairing: MobBoss Bucky! x Reader

Word Count:3,103

Warnings: no warnings that need to be counted for

Author’s Note: Hope you all enjoy chapter two, can’t wait for this series to really take off which it should in chapter three and onward. Thank you all for reading and as always my taglist is always open! 

Chapter 1 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Taking a breath, you brought a shaky hand up to the bronze door knob, you were reluctant to twist it knowing it would more than likely be locked. These doors were always to remain locked, regardless of whether your father was attending to his business or not, “I don’t need any rats snooping around my studies” he would hiss glaring at you and your mother, and as a child you never thought anything of it but as you grew, you were right to heed those warnings or suffer the wrath of your father.

You twisted the knobs a shiver running down your spine when the door squeaked open. The door continued to swing open on its hinges while you stood there frozen, breath baited waiting to hear your fathers booming voice, but it never came. Hesitant steps drew you further into the room, shaky breaths slipped past your parted lips as you took in your father’s secret. Cold, dark, and eerie were just a few of the words that crossed your mind as you stood in your father's grand, luxurious, private space.

Looking at it now you couldn’t imagine your father having a hand in all the things Detective Stark had accused him of. You knew your father though, the type of man he was, he wouldn’t ever be caught with the like of mobsters, murderers, the sin of the city. At least you hoped you would have known him enough, but you were beginning to wonder if you ever did know who your father truly was.

Taking in more of the room your eyes finally fell on the substantially grand expansive flat-topped red wooden oak desk. Your eyes were drawn to the massive wooden structure, but what really caught your attention was the strewn stacks of manila folders and various paper work thrown around the top of it. Your feet carried you towards the desk, body rounding it as you stood in front of where you father was sure to have sat many times.

Shaky fingers ran through the strewn paper work, brows furrowing the deeper you got into it, there was various letter of foreclosures, dubious amounts of bank statements, and even the occasional printed email. You weren’t sure what any of it meant, but from the various red-penned markings you could only assume it wasn’t something in favor of your father. Pulling up the plush leather rolling chair you plopped your tense body into the chair, rolling yourself forward as you sorted once more through the papers, your fingers gripping a foreclosure notice.

Dear Mr. Y/l/n,

This letter is a formal notification that you are in default of your obligation to make payments on your home loan, account #1234567. The current account holds the sum of 5,000 payable May, 27, 2020.

The amount has been overdue since April 27,2020, you have ignored multiple requests to make a payment or reconsolidate your debt.

Unless the full amount is received within 15 days, we have no choice but to begin with foreclosure on your home. We have given you more than adequate notice on this issue, and we have no other choice.

Please act accordingly,

Wilson Lending Inc.

Your brows furrowed deeper as you looked over the notice once more, this couldn’t be right, your father was never behind on his payments, and you would know, your mother was always on top of the finances in your house hold. Looking through more of the papers you stopped at what seemed to be an email,

Mr. y/l/n,

I’ve been nothing but a patient man with you, and frankly I’m growing tired, you wouldn’t want me to send my men to pay you a visit to you and your lovely wife, would you? Shame that your daughter is no longer in the picture, such a tragedy to lose a child. You have a week to get my money, that you’ve owed for seven years now, again, you either pay my money, or I'll find a way to collect, and I assure you Mr. Y/l/n, you won’t want me to have to come collect from you.

Your breath was caught in your throat, fingers stark white from the grip you had on the paper. Tragedy to lose a child, money, collect, you couldn’t fathom what you were reading. What in the world had your father done, what had he been doing under the roof of this house. You sorted through the next one, this one completely knocking the air from you, leaving you feeling more confused and worried than ever before,

Mr. Y/l/n

It’s a tragedy for me to be writing this email, but had I done this in person I can assure you one of us wouldn’t be breathing when it was over. Do you take me for a fool, did you not think I wouldn’t catch on to what it was you were doing? Working with the enemy, such a shame, I know you know this is unforgivable, you were witness to what happened to the other fellow who crossed me. It’s a shame though that you continued to do business with who you did, you’re the only one to blame for your fate. I would end this by saying see you soon, but we both know that won’t be the case. My condolences to your daughter.

The email after that was just eight words long, but it was enough to shake you to your very core.

I’ll be seeing you very soon Mr. Y/l/n.

You threw the papers down onto the desk, your body slumping into the seat, trying to figure out what the hell was going on here. None of these papers except for the foreclosure statement contained any sort of information that could help you to understand what it was that your father was involved with. None of the emails which were your main source of concern contained any sort of information of the sender, and seeing as it was printed there was nothing for you to further dig into. Why was any of this laid out here in the first place, was this meant to be found, did your father want someone to see this information?

The longer you set there and looked at those papers the more you wanted to scream, to cry, you were feeling just as lost and scared, fearful of the uncertainty as you did seven years ago. You were frustrated because you couldn’t understand what was going on, you couldn’t even begin to grasp the reality of your situation. You’ve lost your parents in a tragic accident, you’ve just found out your father worked for the mafia, or at least laundered for them it seems, and to add to all this it would seem that one of the men Detective Stark mentioned earlier wanted to collect from your father, but what was there to collect, your father was losing it all.

You could feel the underlying pins and needles of your nerves, what were you supposed to do, should you contact detective Stark, take him all this information and see what he can make of it? What if you did just that and he thought you had been lying all long, what if he accused you like he accused your father, what if he suspected you did have a hand in all this. You chewed on your lower lip in worry as you thought about the next worry, your mind going back to the emails, were any of those emails from Pierce, Rumlow, or Barnes, and was one of those the men that was going to collect. Thinking back to the first email, you couldn’t place why your father would apparently fake your death, unless you had a sibling you were unaware of. You were stumped and you were only growing more and more confused the longer you sat thinking on all this new information. You felt like your whole life was a lie, everything you grew up in and around was all fabricated to the lifestyle of your father.

You went to pick up the same papers but were jumping back into your seat when the office phone trilled on the desk. Your heart was beating wildly away in your chest, eyes wide as you looked at the noisy device. You stared at it unmoving, should you answer it, should you let it continue.  You weren't given a chance to make the decision as the incessant ringing grew quiet an eerie silence filling the office once more. You stayed staring, once again jumping as it trilled again catching you off guard, it seemed to have gotten louder the second time. With shaky fingers you reached out picking the corded phone up and bringing it to your ear,

“h-hello?”

“Good morning, is Mr. Y/l/n in?” the voice on the other line questioned.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “No, I'm sorry sir, but my parents have been in an accident and they,” god you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“oh, I’m so sorry miss, wait did you say parents, are you Mr. Y/l/n’s daughter?” he questioned

“uh yes, I'm his daughter, may I ask what the reason for the call is?”

“oh yes right, well, I'm calling from Wilson Lending INC, I was needing to speak with your father, but since that won’t be possible,” a pause on his end an irritated sigh sounding through the line, “actually you wouldn’t happen to be y/f/n y/l/n would you?” he questioned.

“Uh yes actually that is me,” you murmured.

“that’s actually great, do you think you could stop by our office, there’s something I will be needing to go over with you, seeing as you’re the next of kin.”

“uh”

“great,” he cut you off, “I can squeeze you in for 30 minutes from now, so I’ll be seeing you here,” he chirped.

You could barely get a word in before the dial tone was sounding through the receiver, the call having ended abruptly. A loud sigh left your lips as you placed the phone back on the stand, your body slouching into the seat, what more news could you possibly take today you thought with a groan.

Thanking the driver your slid out of the seat, coat wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you looked up at the lavish building before you, Wilson’s Lending INC stared back at you in grey bold letters. A shaky sigh left your lips as you felt a sense of dread roll through you, taking tentative steps you pushed yourself to the revolving doors.

The office was quiet, the only sounds in the room was the tapping and clacking of a keyboard from the receptionist, sat a few feet in front of you. Having heard the door the woman looked up an almost bored expression on her unreadable features, “You can follow me this way, Mr. Wilson will see you now,” she mumbled. Your eyes darted around the room, but saw no one else was in the building other than you, “please,” she spoke up again, “follow me right this way,”

Trailing behind her she led you int a small office space, “right in here, Mr. Wilson is expecting you,”

Mumbling a quiet thank you, you watched her walk back the way she had brought you before turning your attention back to the office in front of you. Drawing further into the office you were met with a cheery smile and an ever chipper voice, “Good morning you must be Ms. Y/l/n, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man beamed as he stood from his desk to make his way over to you.

His firm was grip, his smile contagious, “Sam wilson,” he added, “owner of Wilson Lending INC, its in the name,” he grinned, “please come in take a seat,”  

“since I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I'd like to go ahead and jump into it,” he spoke up after you had made yourself comfortable in your chair. You nodded your head allowing him to go on watching him sort through the papers on his desk, “Firstly I extended my sincerest apologies that we have to be meeting given the circumstances, my deepest condolences miss, such a tragic thing to occur,” he murmured.

You wanted to open your mouth to question that last bit that left his mouth but he was too quick, “Now in regards to your home, as I'm sure you knew it is now being foreclosed because of your father’s failure to pay, because of this before we go through with said foreclosure we are looking to hand over your home to the other co-owner, he has informed us he is willing to take it,”

Your brows scrunched in confusion, “co-owner?” you questioned, “what do you mean co-owner, are you speaking of my mother?”

Sam chuckled shaking his head, placing down the files he had down in front of him, “Your father had a co-owner but it wasn’t your mother,”

You slumped in your seat slightly, “why would he need a co-owner, shouldn’t it have been my mother?”

He let out a sigh, rubbing at his head, “Ms. Y/l/n, your father had a co-owner because alone he did not qualify to even begin the process to home owning, with more challenging lending standards when it comes to an individual's credit score, debt to income ratio, it was easier to qualify with the individual your father asked to co-own with him.”

A frustrated groan left your lips, the web kept weaving around you, “so what does all this mean, why was I called in?”

“It’s difficult to walk away from a mortgage when you have more than one borrower,” he began, eyeing you to see if you understood, “your father’s co-owner has kept up with his half but your father just recently was unable to make the payments, due to this the co-owner was called upon and has agreed to take over your home,” he paused eyeing you again, “the thing is if a co-owner dies their share goes to the other owners, in the co-owner ship a TIC agreement was signed where each co-owner can pass along their ownership through a will, meaning the remaining tenants might end up sharing the home with someone they never intended to.”

“this still doesn’t explain why I was called in, I'm sorry Mr. Wilson but you’re just confusing me further,”

He rubbed at his temples, “what this means, is that on a will your father passed his ownership to you, so I can’t necessarily just give your father’s co-owner the home without your approval now,”

A hand rubbed over your face, “so then give him full ownership,” Sam raised a brow at you, “Look Mr. Wilson my parent’s and I had a fall out years ago, if I can be honest with you I barely even know anything about them it seems, so if that is the easiest way to settle this for my father then so be it, I don’t even reside here anymore, so I can assure you letting the house go to someone who is more suited for it will be the best thing in this case,”

He was eyeing you, studying you, it was beginning to make you slightly uncomfortable, “is there anything needed from me?” you asked hoping to finish this up soon.

“yes, actually you and the co-owner will need to meet, he will need to buy you out, and you will need to be there to sign over given that you won’t have a change of heart,”

You raised your hand, “I can assure you there will be no change of heart,” you murmured, “how soon can we get this done, I don’t plan on being here longer than a week, I'm just here to sort out my parents things and I'll be on my way,”

“If it makes things easier, we can come to you, that way you won’t be pulled from sorting through your parent’s things, though I'm not sure there is much more to sort through,”

You raised a brow at his statement taken aback by the change of tone in his voice, “excuse me?” you questioned.

He smirked at you then, “no, not a thing Ms. Y/l/n, well that is all I have for you at the moment, Mr. Barnes and I will pay you a visit later this evening to go over the legalities of all this,” he grinned shooting you a wink.

You couldn’t help but be taken aback by the behavior as you stood on shaky legs pulling your coat and purse tighter around you. In your fraught state you almost hadn’t picked up on the name he uttered, almost.

“Mr. Barnes?” you questioned the name bouncing around in your mind as your remembered Detective Starks words.

He was grinning again, “Yes, Mr. Barnes, the co-owner of your home,”

Your face paled, heart dropping in your chest, “Are you okay?” Sam questioned his grin never faltering almost as if taunting you.

You nodded your head shakily before you were stumbling back slightly, a feeling of not being able to flee fast enough washing over you. You could hear his laughter sound through the building as you tucked tail and ran.

Hailing a cab you ran back home, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, you couldn’t get off the cab fast enough, handing the cab driver your money thanking him quickly as you made your way up the driveway. You needed to leave, none of this felt right, none of it, and with the information Detective Stark had shared with you, and the emails you had come across, you knew you needed to get out and fast you should have never returned in the first place, you should have listened to your father. You had made your decision as you rushed up the steps of your home head down not wanting to be spotted by any of the neighbors or cars driving down the street.

Searching through your purse for the keys you gripped them tightly as you pushed them into the lock, a gasp left your lips as the door was pulled open taking your keys with it. A tall, bearded, honey blonde stood before you a glowering look on his sculpted features. A shiver ran down your spine, as you back up slowly, another gasp falling from your lips as you back hit a wall of muscle. You turned your head ever so slowly, eyes drifting up to be met with a nefarious grin, deep piercing eyes, and a wicked mind.

“hello y/n.”

Chapter 3

Family Matter’s Tag-list: @broco8 @spideyxxboi @scuzmunkie @person-born-winchester @jennisahoe @rougeone0911 @ilovesupersoldiers 

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Twenty. The End.

I don’t know how cultivation works and I’m not about to learn now. There’s some blood here.

I can’t believe it’s done. Thank you everyone who has been reading, and everyone who’s left beautiful comments here, on AO3, in tags, yelled out a window. I’ve never finished a piece this long or in this way, and I would not have gotten further than 2 chapters without yous guys

Let’s get to it.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen

--

On the last morning of peace, Lan Wangji wakes up in Wei Wuxian’s arms. He smiles before opening his eyes, small and instinctive, and Wei Wuxian can’t not kiss him for it.

“Did you sleep?” Lan Wangji’s voice is rough, soft as raw cotton.

“No.”

“Hmm.” He presses his face back into Wei Wuxian’s chest.

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s foolish,” he mutters against his collarbone.

“Tell me.”

“I am afraid.”

Wei Wuxian holds him tighter. “That’s not foolish.”

“I keep waiting for someone to come and fix everything. Wen Ruohan shouldn’t be allowed to do what he is doing. I want someone bigger than him to come put him in his place. I feel young and stupid and weak and I want someone else to be in charge.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s foolish.”

Wei Wuxian kisses his hair. “If we get all the sects together. Maybe all the sects and the citizens as well, we’ll be bigger than the Wens.”

Lan Wangji looks up at him. “What if we’re not?”

“I don’t know.” Wei Wuxian runs his thumb lightly under Lan Wangji’s eye, over his cheekbone, over his ear. “I don’t know, Lan Zhan.”

The Wens come as the children are changing into their play clothes after lunch. Wei Wuxian is waiting at the door when the older disciples come running to their room, eyes wide and confused. Lan Xichen follows.

“The Wens are here.”

“Fuck!”

“They’re commanding the disciples to leave today, now; they’ve got at least thirty armed men. We can’t fight and win.”

“Fuck, fuck, what do we do?”

Three Wen soldiers come up behind the running teenagers. “Hurry up! You should be packed already. Didn’t the Sect Leader tell you you’re going for indoctrination?”

Lan Wangji joins them, jaw so tight it looks like his bones are about to crack.

“Brother. What do we—”

“I can get the little ones out,” Wei Wuxian whispers, brain spinning faster and faster like a wheel heading down a hill. “I don’t know about the older kids.”

“We’ll have no choice; we have to send them.” Lan Xichen watches the flurry of activity with such profound regret that Wei Wuxian grabs his arm and turns him away from the soldiers. 

“They’ll be all right. They’ll be hostages, right? Technically you still have an alliance, so there’s no reason to harm them.”

“We can’t just—” Lan Wangji cuts off as a little hand tugs on Wei Wuxian’s shirt.

“Wei-qianbei, what’s happening?” Lan Feifei asks, big round eyes tracking everything.

“Shhh, here, come back inside. Lan Zhan, I’ll get them to the back hill, okay? Just meet us there, with food if you can.”

Lan Wangji grabs his wrist, a question on his face, but he shakes him off and goes back inside. With luck, the teenagers will take a bit of time getting organized, but knowing the Lans it won’t be much.

“Disciples!” he says in a stage whisper, waving them all over. “Come here, we’re going to play a game.”

“A game?” Lan Ting asks, doubtfully.

“Yes, yes, gather around everyone. Now we have some visitors, and they want us all to go on a trip. So everyone will grab your bag and pack up everything you can. Clothes, blankets, whatever you have. Wen Ning, Lan Bin, Yao Hualing, help the little ones.”

“How is that a game?” Hualing asks.

“I’m getting to that part. What I want you all to do while you pack is to pretend to be the most badly behaved children in the world. I want you to whine and cry and yell and stamp your feet. Make a mess. When I ask you to do something, I want you to say that all you want is to see your bunnies. Can you do that?”

“I still don’t see how this is a game.”

“It’s a trick. We’re playing a trick on the visitors.”

“But how is it—”

“Then when I say the word, you’ll be your wonderful obedient selves again. It will be so funny! They’ll be so surprised.”

“That’s funny?” Lan Bin says, wrinkling his nose.

“Yes, yes!” Wei Wuxian tries not to seem desperate. “They’re very strange men, very strange sense of humor. Trust me.”

“Isn’t that lying?” Su Meiling asks. “Lying is forbidden.”

“Not lying, no, it’s a joke, just a joke. Hanguang Jun says it’s fine, okay? Trust me. When I give the signal, start crying, okay?”

The children look around at each other, still not convinced, but Wen Ning says, “Okay, Wei-qianbei,” and that seems to be good enough for them.

“Okay, go!”

It’s silent for a long moment. Then Ouyang Zizhen gives a tentative, “No, I don’t want to?”

“Good, good, louder,” Wei Wuxian whispers.

“No!” Su Ming yells, stamping her feet. “I want my bunnies!”

“Yes, the bunnies!”

“I won’t go! No! No! No!”

“Beautiful, excellent! More!” Wei Wuxian lets the racket build, encouraging them, before messing up his hair and running to the door.

“Ah, Zewu Jun!” he says, loud enough for the soldier to notice. “These children are so willful! I can’t get them to pack their things.”

One of the soldiers comes over. “What’s the problem?”

“No, no, no, NO!” the kids yell from inside, and someone throws something against the wall.

Yes, perfect! He thinks.

“Oh, sir, I’m so sorry. These children, they won’t travel without their bunnies.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the man sniffs. “Just get them packed.”

“I mean, I’m trying, sir. You’re welcome to try.”

The soldier grunts impatiently and pushes past him to the door. He opens it to utter chaos—someone has flipped their mattress, half of the kids are lying on the floor and wailing, and Lan Jingyi has no clothes on. I guess this is what’s hiding behind three thousand rules. Behind the soldier’s back, Wei Wuxian gives an encouraging smile and conducts them louder and louder. The soldier turns and he schools his expression back to overwhelmed as he runs over to wrangle Jingyi into his pants.

“What is wrong with these children?” the soldier demands.

“It’s their bunnies, sir, they never travel without them. They’ve got cages and everything.”

“Well, go get the damn bunnies then.”

“You know, I would,” he says, shoving a shirt over Jingyi’s screaming head. “But I can’t tell them apart. These children, they’re very particular. You know some bunnies are more energetic than others, some have favorite foods, or special—”

“Shut up, fool, just take the children and get them. I won’t listen to whining all the way to Qishan.”

“Right away, sir!”

Wei Wuxian shuts the door in his face and waves the children over. “Good job everyone! We almost have them fooled. Bags all packed? Excellent. Now we’re going to go to the back hill, so just keep crying and yelling until we get there. Okay? Good work.”

He leads them out, wailing and sobbing, and the older disciples freeze, staring at them.

“Oh no!” Wei Wuxian yells over the racket. “Such willful children! Shame on you all! We’ll be right back, sir!”

They pass the infirmary, where Wen Qing is waiting in the doorway.

“What the fuck, Wei Ying?” she hisses at him.

“Ah, Lady Wen!” he yells. “The most gifted rabbit catcher in Gusu! Please come, help us!”

She glares at him, but then sees the soldiers behind him and her face goes carefully blank. She follows.

When they reach the back hill, he gestures them all quiet and close.

“Excellent work, everyone! A-Ning, I need you to keep an eye on the path, let me know if someone is coming.”

“That was fun, Wei-qianbei!” Jingyi shouts. “I want to misbehave all the time!”

“Yes, you’re a prodigy, but it’s time to be quiet now. We’re going to go on an adventure, okay?”

“With the soldiers?” Lan Yixian asks.

“No, we’re going somewhere else. Okay? But we need to be quiet and fast.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing murmurs. “You’d better have a plan. There’s no way we can outrun them through the forest on foot.”

“I need your knife.” He holds out his hand. She looks doubtful, but gives it to him. He cuts a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, leaving his stomach bare.

“Wei-qianbei, your belly!” Zizhen yells, pointing at the scar.

“Shh, Zizhen, it’s okay.” He spreads the cloth on the ground and makes a deep cut in his finger, starting to write.

“It’s a talisman?” Sizhui asks, leaning over his shoulder.

“Yes, A-Yuan, but it’s very complicated, so please be quiet.”

“Wei Ying,” Wen Qing says, one hand on his back. “I can’t power this kind of—”

“It’s not for you, it’s for me.”

“You’re not strong enough.”

“I have Chenqing. It’ll help.”

“It’s too risky.”

“Wen Qing, unless you have a better plan right now, let me work. I need you to go through first, make sure they land okay. Will you do that?”

She’s quiet for a long time while he writes. “Don’t make me watch you die,” she finally whispers.

“If I do, you won’t be here to see it.”

He finishes, rises, and holds the talisman in his hands, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He’s been shutting off the pull towards resentful energy for so long, it takes a moment to find it again, to open himself up to it. Chenqing isn’t a source of energy, but it’s a good conductor, so once he attunes himself to it the rush begins. It’s harder to feel the pit inside of him—he’s been too happy, too content, but if he pushes it’s there. He thinks about Wen Zhuliu, Wen Ruohan. He imagines Jiang Cheng’s face, Jiang Yanli’s, feels the pain of missing them. He sees the frightened eyes of the older disciples being marched away from home, Lan Xichen’s clenched fist, Lan Wangji’s rough voice saying I am afraid. He feels Wen Qing’s solid hand at his back. He opens his eyes and sees the children gathered around him, thinks Mine, mine, mine.

He flings the talisman out in front of him with a burst of flame, and it explodes into a swirling black portal a few feet off the ground.

“Go. Wen Qing. Go,” he grits out, already feeling his reserves of energy running thin.

Wen Qing takes a breath, nods once, then runs and leaps through the opening.

“Lady Wen!” Lan Bin cries. “Where did she go?”

“We’re all going,” Wei Wuxian says, fighting to get the words out and hold the opening. “Help the little ones.”

He has a vague idea of where the portal might lead, an open field in another part of Gusu, but he’s trusting Wen Qing to make a plan from there. He may have sent her off the side of a cliff or in the middle of a lake, but he has to believe it will work. It has to work.

Lan Bin looks doubtful. 

“Please,” is all Wei Wuxian can say. The portal shimmers for a moment, losing stability, and Wei Wuxian shuts his eyes to focus again. He feels his feet root into the soil and deeper, into the mountain, the stone, veins of power eons old, power that sees all of human life come and go like a single drop of rain against a roof tile. Resentment grown centuries before there was a word for it, before there was reason, a time before logic. 

It hurts. He’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

When he opens his eyes again, Lan Bin is passing Jingyi through the opening.

“Wei-qianbei, I’m scared,” Yao Hualing says.

“I know. Me too. Just.” He groans through another burst of energy. “Get them through.”

Something rips inside him, a sail ripped from the mast in the middle of a hurricane, and resentful energy floods him. He feels it in the spaces between his heart and lungs, the invisible gaps between each drop of blood, his pores yawning open like canyons. He can’t see, can’t hear over the whispering, roaring, wailing that’s tearing through him. Hold on, just hold on he repeats in his mind, and the darkness answers give, give, give. 

“Wei-qianbei!” Wen Ning cries, running from the road.

He forces himself to see, in flashes like a series of paintings. The last child’s foot disappearing through the portal. Wen Ning, appearing at his side. Lan Wangji coming down the path, followed by two soldiers. Sizhui, running for his father with arms outstretched. 

“A-Yuan!” Wei Wuxian screams, but it’s too late. A soldier grabs him around the middle and holds him, sword unsheathed and held to his wailing throat.

“No!” Lan Wangji shouts, but as he takes a step closer, the soldier tightens his hold.

“Baba!”

“What do I do, what do I do?” Wen Ning gasps, crying, hands clenching.

“Go. Through.” Wei Wuxian manages.

“I can’t, I have to—”

“A-Ning. Go. Now.”

With a last look over his shoulder, Wen Ning dives through the portal. Wei Wuxian plants his feet and shifts his focus, transferring the current of power into his left hand, holding the portal open. 

“Let him go,” he growls.

“Close the portal now, or I swear I will kill him.”

“Last chance.”

The soldier nicks Sizhui’s neck and his screaming cuts off with a tiny gasp that hits Wei Wuxian like a thunderclap. His vision goes red, dark at the edges, and his mind snaps.

MINE roars the darkness, and for once it’s in unison with the rest of him.

He lashes out his right hand and a cord of darkness, thin and strong as a whip, shoots out from his palm, curls around the soldier’s arm, and slices through. The man screams and tumbles backward, sword and arm together falling to the ground, blood spurting out and soaking Sizhui’s blue shirt to black. Sizhui shuts his eyes and freezes where he stands, little hands clenched at his sides.

The second soldier lunges forward, but Wei Wuxian flicks the whip back the other direction and catches him across the face, slicing open his cheek until half of his jaw and teeth are exposed.

“This is mine,” he says—it feels like nothing, just like breathing, but it echoes through the forest, shaking the trees and  frightening the rabbits to run around them like a river current, screaming like ghosts. “You dare touch what is mine.”

The soldier stumbles upright and holds his face, half raising his sword, and Wei Wuxian pulls the whip back into the air, hovering in front of him. The blood soaking into the ground rushes up through him, the soldier’s pain. Sizhui’s terror hurtles through him, making him stronger. He feels hot blood against his neck, in his hair, as clearly as if he were in the boy’s place.

“Give me a reason. I dare you. I beg you. Give me a reason.”

Before the soldier can move, the tip of Bichen bursts through the center of his chest. Lan Wangji shoves him off the blade to flop onto the ground. Wei Wuxian watches his life wink out like a lamp and drinks it in, spinning it into darkness. Lan Wangji doesn’t wait to sheathe the sword, just grabs Sizhui up with his free arm.

“Wei Ying,” he says urgently, which shakes Wei Wuxian back to the moment. The fear, the death, it all gives him a burst of energy, but he can feel the end of it coming near, like stitching a torn cloth back together with the last few inches of thread. Hold, just hold, please just be enough to hold. He pulls the whip back into himself, dissolving harmlessly into smoke, and throws his right hand back to the portal.

“Go.” It’s still not his voice. He tries to get his voice back. “Lan Zhan, please, hurry.”

“Wangji!” Lan Xichen runs down the path behind them, taking in everything, the portal, the bodies, the bloody sword. “Wei Ying, your face—”

“Go!” Sweat is rolling down his cheeks, or maybe tears, or blood, or maybe all three. Lan Wangji looks back at his brother for a long moment, then steps through the portal.

“Zewu Jun, hurry, jump through.”

“No, I— Wei Ying, I can’t, the soldiers. They’ll burn it all down, they’ll kill everyone.”

Wei Wuxian groans and the portal starts to shrink.

“We’ll find you. We’ll go—”

“Go to Yunmeng.” Lan Xichen grabs Wei Wuxian’s wrist and forces a current of clean energy through him. He’s nothing but a conduit, hollow, but it holds the portal in place, blue light weaving in between tendrils of black smoke. “The rebuild has begun. Jin soldiers are there for defense. Lanling is preparing for war, and they will protect you. Stay off the roads.”

“You’ll meet us there? The older children—”

“I’ll look after them. I’ll make some excuse for you—”

“Tell everyone I took them. Demon Wei Ying. Tell them I tricked you, all of you, I stole them away. I’m an unknown, I’m on no one’s side. Say I killed them. The worst things you can think of, tell them, they’ll believe you.”

Lan Xichen nods once, face going tight with pain. “We’ll clear your name, after—”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll hold the portal. You go.”

Wei Wuxian takes a halting step towards it, legs heavy as through iron chains were wrapped around them.

“Wait,” Lan Xichen says. “I”ll need— It needs to look like we fought. If I use my own sword—”

Wei Wuxian nods. “I’m sorry.” He lashes out—the whip is smaller this time, weaker, but it cuts up the side of Lan Xichen’s face and down across his shoulder, red blooming on his white robes. He winces, but his energy doesn’t falter. Shouts ring out through the forest, the sound of dozens of men crashing towards them through the trees.

“Take care of them,” Lan Xichen pleads.

“They’re mine.”

Wei Wuxian takes a step and throws himself at the portal, just as it begins to close. He hears Lan Xichen shout “Wei Wuxian!” behind him, then feels himself pulled in all directions, torn into pieces and slammed back together. His lungs are flattened, his stomach is missing, his eyes are backwards, his hands are multiplying like a flock of crows around him, choking—

And then, in an instant, it’s over. He hits the ground and lays flat on his back, gasping.

“Wei-qianbei!”

“Wei Ying!”

“Wei-qianbei!”

“Wei-qianbei!”

He’s surrounded by a flickering, moving mass that half blocks out the sunlight. He can’t see shapes, can’t see colors. Little hands on his face, his body, pulling at his clothes.

“I—” his mouth is dry, his tongue thick and heavy. “I—”

“Back, back, step back.” He knows this voice, these hands on his forehead. They feel his neck, his stomach.

“W— W— Wen—”

“Shh, shh, don’t talk.”

“ ‘vryone? Ev— ‘ryone?”

“Yes, yes, shh.”

“Where?”

“Other side of the mountain. Miles away.”

He relaxes into her hold. Time flickers, disappears, and reforms around him. He sits up, coughs, spits blood onto the ground.

The figures around him are still blurry, but he recognizes them. The children. Wen Qing and Wen Ning at his sides, propping him up. Lan Wangji is standing, staring at him, holding Sizhui. Wei Wuxian squints. Sizhui’s blue shirt is gone and he’s wrapped in red. Wen Qing’s outer robe, he realizes. His hair is soaked, drying stiff against his back, and there’s blood smeared across his cheek. His eyes are still closed and Wei Wuxian can see him shivering in Lan Wangji’s arms.

“A-Yuan,” he breathes, reaching out one hand.

“Wei-qianbei,” it’s little Lan Feifei. She reaches out and touches his cheek with one tentative finger. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“They’re not . . . right.”

“Oh.” He touches his face as well, as if he could feel the difference. “What do they look like?”

“They’re red. And your face, it’s so white. There’s black, here.” She traces uneven lines up his neck, across his temples, his cheeks.

“Is it scary, Feifei?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, sweet one. You’re being very brave. You’re all so—” he’s suddenly finding it hard to talk, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “So brave.”

“We need to move,” Lan Wangji says, not unkindly. “It’s too open here.”

Wei Wuxian struggles upright, a dozen little hands reaching out to hold him. They look wary, staring at his face, but they aren’t scared to touch him. He loves them so much he’s about to dissolve in it. Mine rumbles through him, not violent this time, but low and satisfied like a purr.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, and reaches out for his hand.

Sizhui suddenly turns his face and opens his eyes, staring over at Wei Wuxian. His face is blank, and Wei Wuxian wishes he had a scarf, a mask, something to hide his appearance.

“A-Yuan,” he starts, “I’m so—”

But then Sizhui reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulling hard enough to make him stumble. He crashes into father and son and wraps his arms around both while Sizhui hides his face in his neck.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian breathes, sweeping a hand over his hair and kissing the side of his face over and over. “I’m so sorry. You’re okay. It’s all okay now.”

It isn’t. It’s not okay now. But for a brief moment, as Lan Wangji holds all of them upright, they can breathe.

“We have a lot of traveling to do,” Wen Qing says. “It’s going to be difficult, and we’re going to have to be very sneaky. Can we do that?”

“Yes, Lady Wen,” a few children chorus.

“Where are we going?” asks Ouyang Zizhen.

“It’s a surprise,” Wei Wuxian answers at the same time Lan Wangji says, “It’s a secret.”

“But where—”

“How would you like to see your Wei-qianbei’s family?” Wei Wuxian says, meeting Wen Qing’s eyes. She smiles slightly and nods. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Your family?” Jingyi pipes up. “I want to go!”

“Good. Then we will. It’ll be a surprise for everyone.”

“What about my big brother?” Lan Hua asks.

“Yeah, and my cousin?” 

“My brother too!”

Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, unsure.

“They will join us later,” Lan Wangji announces, the voice that allows for no doubts and no arguments. “We have to go our own way for now, but we’ll see them again soon. For now, we need to stay together and take care of each other. We are a family, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Hanguang Jun.”

“Yes, Baba,” Sizhui whispers. Wei Wuxian kisses his cheek again.

“Let’s get moving,” Wen Qing says. “At least down to the tree line, then we can make a plan. We should be able to go a few miles before dark.”

“If we find a graveyard for the night, I can—” he stops himself, looking at the children. ”We can be safe in a graveyard.”

“Don’t overdo it,” Wen Qing warns.

“I never overdo it. Come on, everyone. Gather your things.”

He presses his forehead into Lan Wangji’s shoulder for a last moment, then lets him go and bends to pick up Jingyi. The weight is too much for him, and he ends up back on his knees in the dirt.

“I’ve got him.” Wen Ning comes up and hauls Jingyi up on his hip. “It’s okay, Wei-qianbei, let me help.”

Wen Qing gets him upright again and they move off through the grass towards the trees. 

They will walk for as long as the children can stand it tonight, and Wei Wuxian will call corpse puppets to watch over them through the night. He can see it all in front of him. It’s like reading a score and hearing the song come together in his mind. There will be rivers to cross, mountains to climb, caves and ditches to hide in night after night. They will be frightened and exhausted and starving. But they will arrive in Yunmeng, at Lotus Pier. He will row them all across the lake, and they will lean out of the boat to pluck lotus blossoms. Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli will meet them at the gate, and Wei Wuxian will fall into their arms. Jiang Cheng will protest, will yell, but he’ll catch him. And Yanli will take his ruined face in her cool hands and tell him that he’s home. 

He tightens his arm around Wen Qing’s shoulders and gets an answering squeeze around the waist. As if he can hear their thoughts, Lan Wangji turns back and catches his eye. Wei Wuxian looks at him, singing the song in his mind, showing him the way. Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Wuxian smiles.

The End.

[everydayescapeartist]

First Lines

Tagged by @forbiddenfantasies1  -- Thank you!  This was fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1) Jaime stood perusing the wide selection of cards in the Harrenhalmark Gift Shop aisle. (Wench You Care Enough to Send the Very Best, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

2) It had been a relatively slow night so far. (Ladies’ Night at the Lion’s Den, Jaime/Brienne, rated M)

3) The movie theater was quiet. (The Christmas Leap, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

4) She’d known this would be part of her creative writing class. (Smut Writing for Dummies, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

5) She only does it because it’s for Sansa’s Psychology Research class and because Sansa promises her anonymity will be kept and because Sansa is her best friend. (It’s Hard To Look Right At Ya, Baby, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

6) Joanna and Aleysia were as close as sisters, though they shared no blood.   (I Don’t Want to Toe the Line, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

7) Jaime couldn’t believe he was here, actually considering doing this. (A Knight Under the Big Top, Jaime/Brienne, rated T)

8) There she stood in the dark, feeling all the fool she should for letting Renly talk her into coming to this stupid party. (Seven Minutes with the Seven, Jaime/Brienne, rated G)

9) “I was wondering, my queen, if you’d be so kind as to bend the knee for me.” (Bend the Knee, Jon/Daenerys, rated M)

10) She’d been so excited to get to learn from him, the Golden Lion, knighted (by Ser Arthur Dayne no less) when he was just 15, and invited into the Kingsguard that same year.  (Gonna give you all my love, boy, Jaime/Brienne, rated E)

11) She sat at the small, round wooden table feeling numb, staring at the faces around her, the faces deciding a fate she had no say in. (Build a Bridge, Katniss/Peeta, rated M - Note: I realized I suck pretty badly on this one because I forgot that I posted it for PiP, so while I’ve had eight chapters drafted for several years, I kind of forgot anyone might be awaiting them.  *hangs head in shame* As you can see if you look at my works list, life shit got real around here and I was just rolling into a hiatus at this point, though I didn’t know it at the time. I cannot make any promises, but perhaps I’ll try to finish this one in some way that satisfies me and post it eventually.  Probably no one cares at this point, but I still feel bad.)

12) We take our turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. (In All Moments, Katniss/Peeta, rated M)

13) Dear Dr. Aurelius, You asked me to write a little something about anything "remarkable" about each of the days of this week since it is the anniversary of Prim's death and you want to make sure I don't just get locked up inside myself again. (Prim, Promise, and Progress, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

14) "That'll be $4.50," she informed the middle-aged man still in his business suit from work apparently, his fresh-faced beauty of a girlfriend (wife? mistress? who knew?) hanging on his arm. (Change at the Fair, Katniss/Peeta, rated G)

15) "I'm in the mood to play tonight.  Are you?" (Web Spinner, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

16) Katniss settled down comfortably onto the thick branch she’d ascended to, resting her back against the dark bark of the tree’s trunk. (Reading Companion, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

17) I walk back over to where Finnick is keeping watch and sit back down just a couple feet from him, keeping my eyes trained in the directions he is not covering. (It Can Never Be Enough, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

18) May (Peeta): He was so happy to have gotten the job. (Hot Buns, Honey Buns, Katniss/Peeta, rated E)

19) “Peeta, come on, man, call it a day!” (Beautiful Shield, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

20) His fair hair and skin stood out here and that, plus how off-key he was as he sat on the sand humming a tune whilst sketching in a notebook, is what caught Katniss Everdeen’s attention as she made her way past him toward her friends. (New Old Friend, Katniss/Peeta, rated T)

Patterns: I guess I typically try to set the scene a little, let you know where the characters are & generally what they’re doing & maybe how they’re feeling about it. Most times, I don’t start with dialogue, though sometimes I do.  Lord knows I use enough dialogue after I give you the initial sentences usually, haha!  

Favorites: #5 because it amuses me, like I can feel Brienne’s discomfort in the situation..and because I hope it makes people want to learn more about whatever her predicament is.  #8 also because I apparently like Brienne’s feelings in different predicaments, lol.  #11, which makes me feel even worse, but yeah, I like the somber feeling of it.

Tagging (apologies, I’m sure I’ll repeat tag someone who has already been tagged/done this - feel free to ignore): @writergirl2011 @ilikeblue @angel-deux-writes @theunpaidcritic @twelvemonkeyswere @bussdowntarthiana @sohereforyou @jennagill @hutchhitched @muttpeeta and anyone else who would like to do this :)