#i said these would be the photos on their mantel

[ratfink-kryptonite]

[harryspet]

buy me presents | r. cameron

[warnings] dark!mafia!rafe x spoiled!bratty!reader, ex-convict!rafe, rafe has a spoiling kink, topper thornton x reader, kidnapping/confinement, bondage, mentions of death/violence, toxic relationship, NONCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: merry christmas eve! gif credit: @/janesarahspidey

In which Rafe is more dangerous than ever and he interrupts your honeymoon with your new husband.

word count: 6.2k

rafe cameron masterlist

Somewhere like Greece seemed like a much better option for your honeymoon. Your husband, Topper, insisted that spending the end of year at a cozy, cabin in the mountains would be much more intimate.  Besides that, you’d gotten married so late into the year that a tropical honeymoon was probably out of the question. You bargained for a trip to Greece in the spring and decided not to pout. At least a cozy mountain trip meant cute two-piece lounge sets with fur-line boots and adorable ear muffs. 

That morning, he’d lugged all four of your suitcases into the back of his SUV, and you drove 4 hours from Figure 8 to the mountains. The car heater hummed softly as you stared out the window, the serenity of the trip barely masking your true feelings. You had the perfect winter wedding, a huge oval diamond on your ring, you’d snagged the most eligible bachelor in Kildare, and yet, you were still hoping for more. 

Topper was all smiles when you arrived, chivalrously carrying all your things inside. The “cabin” he picked was less than low-key, which impressed you, from the outside it was covered in snow but you could tell there were at least seven bedrooms. Shivering you followed him inside. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the noise felt strangely final, like you were trapped in a cage of wood and snow. 

Your husband went to work on the fireplace, and still shivering, you wandered through the luxurious cabin’s living room. It was adorned with over-stuffed furniture, red-plaid blanket throws, deep leather couches, and velvet armchairs. A bear skin rug sat before the fireplace, a deer head placed ceremoniously over the mantle, “I was thinking we could decorate the place for Christmas. Make it real cozy. What do you think?”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah … where are we gonna get decorations?” You crossed your arms as you continued to shiver. Moving closer to him, you were hoping a spark would appear soon. 

Topper glanced over at you, his face lighting up with excitement. "I figured we could take a drive into town tomorrow, get a real tree, maybe a few things for the mantel. It'll be perfect. You know, all the little touches."

The fire crackled in front of you as Topper carefully stoked the flames, his focus on making sure it blazed high. His back was to you, his arms flexing as he worked, and for a moment, you found yourself staring at him. Topper was handsome, successful, and undoubtedly a good man. You let yourself feel grateful that he’d put so much thought into this trip.

Planning your dream wedding had completely consumed your thoughts this year, bringing you unimaginable anxiety. Every decision, every detail had been meticulously planned, from the dress to the flowers, the venue, and every single guest on the guest list. You’d sacrificed sleep, health, and sanity in pursuit of perfection. But now, the wedding was behind you, and the weight of it all seemed to evaporate in the crisp mountain air.

You decided that this was the time to finally let go of the constant pressure and to simply enjoy being married, “Sounds perfect,” You responded, and at the same time, you saw the first spark. Topper stoked the fire, letting it grow, and you finally felt the comforting heat, “The tree has to be at least nine feet, okay? With red and gold bulbs and big poinsettias. I want my sister to totally freak out when I send her photos.” You said it with a small smirk, imagining her wide-eyed reaction to the grandeur of it all. You were already picturing the perfect holiday setup, one that would leave no room for comparison.

“You got it,” He stood up from his place kneeling by the fireplace, dusting off his pants, and leaned in to kiss you softly. His voice was low, reassuring, and you picked out the way his eyes soften at the sight of you. Topper Thornton was madly in love with you, “What sounds good for dinner?”

“Steak?” You offered, leaning back against the arm of the couch. Outside, through tall glass windows, you watched snow fall down on the landscape. 

“Steak it is. I’m gonna make you an amazing dinner and then we’re going to have the coziest night in.” He leaned down to kiss you on your forehead and you watched as he made his way to the kitchen. 

“I will …unpack,” You declared, staring around the room, already envisioning where you would settle.

The master suite was tucked away on the upper floor, accessed by a grand staircase with a dark wood banister that creaked softly under your footsteps. The soft glow from the chandelier above cast a warm light over you. The stairs led to a long hallway that ended in double doors, adorned with heavy brass handles. 

At the center of the room stood a four-poster king-sized bed with a thick down comforter and piles of plush pillows, framed by an elegant dark wood bed frame. Across the room was yet another fireplace and you imagined a warm, cozy consummation of your marriage. You were no virgin, and Topper hadn’t proposed to you before sampling what he intended to lock down for the rest of his life, but you wanted it to be special. 

Your eyes wandered to the private balcony accessed through French doors offered views of the snow-covered expanse but was too cold to truly enjoy. Instead, you turned your attention to unpacking yours and Topper’s luggage, organizing your belongings in the spacious walk-in closet. The expansive vanity soon became a canvas for your collection of beauty trinkets and makeup, each item finding its place as you settled into your new surroundings.

You joined Topper for dinner, the mouth watering aroma already having reached you upstairs. Topper was good at being doting, remembering to pull out your chair for you, making sure your glass of red wine never fully emptied. Part of your heart fluttered, the other, more realistic half was skeptical. You couldn’t help but reflect on the endless conversations you’d had with your therapist. She’d pointed out time and time again that you struggled to let people fully in, even the ones who loved you.

This was the time, Y/N, to finally let someone in. What better person than the one you agreed to marry? 

Dinner was more than pleasant, and as the wine started to warm your cheeks, the conversation turned light. It was fun. Sometimes you forgot how much fun Topper could be. 

Topper’s voice was low and teasing, “If you could switch lives with anyone for a day, no strings attached, no responsibilities, no commitments, who would it be and why?”

You paused, the question hanging in the air for a moment. Topper leaned forward slightly, clearly enjoying the challenge he’d just given you. You could tell he was genuinely curious, but also hoping to catch a glimpse of something unexpected, something about the woman he’d married that maybe even you hadn’t fully explored.

Your fingers played with the stem of your wine glass as you thought, the question pulling you into a brief moment of reflection.

“Hmmm…” you mused, your heartbeat picking up, though you kept your face neutral, “I think… I’d pick my oldest sister. She does everything right. She’s got it all together. At least, that’s what my Mom and Dad always say.”

“Really?” Topper smiled, taking a sip from his wine, “Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Maybe because you felt no judgement at all, you kept speaking, “I mean, it’s not like I don’t love my life now. But all I wanted when I was a teenager was to be the godliest woman, to get married young, and you know, do all the things a pastor’s daughter is supposed to do. And I watched all three of my sisters do it and…they’ve just never approved of my decisions.”

You were sitting across from the only decision your parent’s approved of but you weren’t always Topper Thornton’s wife. For years, they’d considered you “lost”. 

Topper gave you a soft smile. “I’m surprised but it’s kind of nice to … to know you more. I want to know your more, Y/N,” You understood what he meant. You did your best to come across only how you wanted others to perceive you, “You know, you’re exactly where you need to be, right here with me. And I’m sorry, but your parents are idiots.”

You nodded, laughing, before you down the rest of your wine, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” Topper’s eyes widened, “Is it upstairs?”

You nodded, standing from the table. “Yes. I’m going to get ready. Toss these dishes in the sink, I’ll clean them tomorrow, and meet me upstairs in… five minutes, okay?”

“Can’t wait, Mrs. Thornton,” He winked and you scurried away from the table with a mischievous smile. 

It took you a lot longer than five minutes to get ready and you were lucky that Topper had known you well enough to give you more time. You chose an outfit you’d been waiting to pull out since the beginning of planning for your wedding. The nightgown was crafted from soft, white silky fabric, it’s neck plunged and the neckline was adorned by lace. The hem ended just before the middle of your thighs, teasing yet tasteful, and the robe that accompanied it was made from the same light, airy material. You tied the robe lazily in front, letting the fabric cascade over your body. 

You were applying lipgloss in the mirror when you heard the closing of a car door. You paused for a moment, wondering why he had gone out to the car. Deciding you were presentable enough, you left the room. At the top of the stairs, you heard the shuffling of feet and assumed Topper had made his way back inside. 

“Babe?” You inquired as you made your way down the stairs. Your stomach dropped the moment that your bare feet hit the bottom step. You gripped the stair railing as your eyes tried to make sense of the movement in the dimly lit downstairs. All you could really tell was that Topper was not alone and dark figures had crowded the living room. 

Then your heard a painful grunt and recognized the sound as belonging to Topper. Abort, abort, abort, the little voice in your head said. When you turned around, there was a dark figure standing at the top of the stairs now. You immediately recognized the cold, calculating look in his eyes. He was one of Rafe's men. You couldn’t remember his name, but the air around him was thick with malice. He didn’t need to say a word for you to understand his intent: you weren’t going anywhere.

A scream left your lips before you could cover your mouth with a shaky hand. “Stay still,” the man at the top of the stairs said in a low, gruff voice. His hand moved toward his waistband, and your stomach twisted as you feared the worst.

You moved forward despite his words. The shuffling from the living room intensified, followed by another grunt from Topper, which made your legs nearly buckle beneath you. You were so, so, so close to the door but a few steps in that direction made you realize there were two other men blocking that exit. You turned around slowly, following their line of the sight, and moved in the only direction there was. 

You padded closer to the living room, a crackling fire the only source of light in the room. Rafe Cameron stood, tall and commanding, gun pointed to your husband’s temple. He already owned every inch of the space. 

Topper’s eyes flicked toward you, panic and fear evident in them, but he didn’t speak, not while Rafe’s gun was so close to his head. His jaw clenched, and he shifted uncomfortably in place, his hands bound behind him. Two other dark figures stood nearby and you quickly processed that they were most likely the ones who overpowered your husband. 

Cold, calculating eyes locked on you. Oh god, you thought, you’d really done it now. 

It wasn’t love at first sight with Rafe Cameron. Not even close. But it was fire—raw, passionate, and all-consuming. You were at the end of your rebellious phase, days away from moving back home, and finally agreeing to go to that Christian college your parents always wanted you to go to.

It really started with a pair of diamond earrings. Not a conversation, not a connection, just a gesture that hit you like a freight train. 

He presented them after he’d given you three earth-shattering, bed-frame-slamming orgasms in a row, and you’d dozed off in his bedroom, tangled in the sheets, not caring that it was a late-night rendezvous that was never supposed to mean anything. The earrings were tucked inside a velvet box that seemed almost out of place with the raw, unrestrained chaos of the night.

“Are you paying me for sex? Like a hooker?”

“You’d think I’d buy diamond earrings for a hooker?” His voice was steady, as if he hadn’t just spent hours making your legs shake. “No, this is an investment. I want my future wife to know I can give her nice things.”

"Shut up," you muttered, not trying to keep the sting out of your voice. You weren’t his property. You weren’t someone’s investment.

Rafe only smirked, eyes predatory but amused. You accepted, of course, and you tried them on just minutes later. You’d never owned anything so … sparkly. They were the opposite of modest, the opposite of the world you were so close to entering again. 

There was no amusement in the look Rafe Cameron was giving you now, his black suit molding perfectly to his tall, muscular frame. “And here she is,” Rafe announced, a smile on his lips with absolutely know joy behind it, “The beautiful bride!” 

“Rafe …” You steadied your breathing as much as possible, “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t help but notice his hair—buzzed short, a sharp contrast to the way he used to wear it. It gave him a more rugged and dangerous look, one that matched the quiet menace he often carried in his demeanor.

“What does it look like? I came to congratulate you two.” 

“Put the gun away,” You stepped closer, arms wrapping around yourself, wanting to conceal your vulnerable form from the men in the room, “He didn’t do anything. You know he didn’t. I’m the one who–”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I did consider him a good friend of mine, you know? S’pose to look after my girl while I did my time. Guess you thought I was giving you permission to fuck her,” The barrel of the gun pressed harder into Topper’s temple and you cringed. His icy blue eyes pinned you in place as he scanned over you. You wanted to scream, to throw yourself at Rafe and tear the gun from his hand, but something in you knew that it wasn’t that simple. It never had been with Rafe.

“No, you don’t get to do this,” You declared, raising your voice as much as your body would let you, “You went away. I ended things. You don’t get to tear everything down just because you can’t let go.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you could see the nerve you’d struck written all over his face, “She’s not your girl anymore,” Topper spoke through gritted teeth, “You can’t–”

Rafe’s eyes flashed with a fury that turned his features hard and before you could take another breath, he moved with lightning speed, raising the gun in his hand. The crack of metal meeting flesh filled the room as Rafe pistol-whipped Topper across the face, sending him crumbling to the floor.

“Fuck!” You cursed, tears stinging your eyes. You fought the urge to keel over and release the contents of your stomach at the sight of the blood gushing from Topper’s face. A blind rage came over you as you started to struggle to breathe. 

“Neither of you get to tell me what the fuck to do,” Rafe’s eyes bore into you. 

You moved closer, wanting to check and at least make sure your husband was still breathing. Before you knew it, Rafe’s gun was pointing at you. 

“No, leave him. You. Sit,” He gestured the gun towards the leather couch. 

You hesitated and Rafe easily pointed the gun back at Topper. A threat. Shakily, you stepped away from Topper’s figure, and sat down on the living room couch. You tried to steady yourself, stop yourself from vibrating with anger, to calm your nerves so you could think rationally. 

Across the room, Rafe did the same, though his movements were more restless, more frantic. He paced back and forth, his boots thudding softly against the carpet. The gun never left his hand, his fingers curling tighter around it as he muttered under his breath, words too quiet to make out.

It was a scene you had witnessed before. Rafe trying to calm down after doing something reckless. Something violent. You wanted nice things, sure. But not like this. Not at the cost of your peace, your sanity. And certainly not at the cost of your safety.

The realization hit you then. The crazy that came with Rafe Cameron? You had never wanted it, not really. 

“What do you want from us?” You asked, lips trembling. 

“Nothing from him,” Rafe decided quickly, “From you. There is no limit to all that I want from you, Y/N.”

You breathed deeply, “What do you want me to say? You want me to lie to you, Rafe?”

Rafe nodded his head as he thought about your words, “I want that ring off your finger …” He trailed off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You look down at your left hand as it sat on your lap. You quickly covered your left hand with your right, “Take if off,” He continued and when you didn’t budge, he added, “I’m not asking. Do it or-”

Angrily, you kept your eyes on him. You pulled off your engagement ring and wedding band, tossing the two at his feet. 

“Good,” he muttered under his breath, his gaze narrowing, though he still smirked. "You’ll regret that."

He leaned down to take the rings into his hand, “Hmm, you always told me you wanted a pear shape. I know you didn’t change your mind that quickly. Let me guess …you mentioned it but he never remembered. And you were just so grateful that he even got down on one knee for you.” 

Rafe’s words stung, his mockery of your past with Topper hitting harder than you expected. 

“I love it. You know all I really care about is a big diamond, Rafe,” You spoke through a painful smile.

“I know I’m not the only man in the world with money,” Rafe said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “But what you don’t understand is, he wouldn’t have anything without me. That new real estate venture of his? The one he’s so proud of now? It started with me. And what does he do? He swoops in, steals my girl, and then steals five million dollars from me. That’s what all of this is about, sweet girl. I’m here to collect what’s owed to me.”

His words hit like a slap, each sentence dripping with resentment and possessiveness. The revelation about the money, about the real reason for everything that had led to this moment, twisted in your stomach like a blade. 

“He didn’t steal me,” You countered bitterly, “I was never going to be yours. You’re a criminal.”

There was a dangerous intensity in Rafe’s eyes. Your arms crossed now out of defiance. Rafe nodded, smiling, “You’re right about one of those things. Wrong about you never being mine. But you’re right about me being a criminal.” 

Rafe crossed the room and your heart leapt from your chest as your leapt from your seat. Rafe Cameron introduced you to a violence you’d never known, and in less than a second, completely broke your heart. Topper, already passed out and crumpled on the floor, didn’t stand a chance. Standing over his body, gun angled to the ground, Rafe shot your husband in the head. 

Another second later, he was handing your rings over to one of his henchman standing nearby, “Go ahead and bury these with him.” 

Your knees buckled at the sight …the parts of his brain that were scattered all over the carpet. our hand trembled as you reached for him, but the second you touched his skin, the realization that he was gone set in.

You heard Rafe’s voice, his focus was elsewhere. You thought you might’ve heard his laugh. The sound was the last thing you heard before everything went still.

Ropes bit into your wrists. You tried to pull yourself up, the softness of the mattress making you sink further, and then you felt a strong hand on your waist holding you in place. Turning your head rapidly, you saw both your wrists tied to the opposite ends of the wooden bed. Looking down, not only did you see your lingerie still in place, but Rafe Cameron was kneeling between your legs. 

He’d remove his clothes except for his slacks though you could see his belt was loosened. You pressed your head back into the mattress, pulling at your restraints, “This is low, even for you,” You breathed out.

“Low? You’re being dramatic.”

“You killed my husband,” you whispered, the weight of the truth settling like a stone in your stomach. Slowly, he crawled on top of your, shirtless and even more sculpted than you remembered. His frame, lean and muscular bathed in the warm glow of the room's lighting. His chest was broad and defined with every line of his torso sharp. Your eyes found his shoulders, broad and powerful, tapering down to a narrow waist. Prison had not only hardened his frown lines, it had hardened every part of him. 

Rafe’s eyes flickered as he looked down at you, a brief flash of something—guilt, maybe? That look was gone quickly, replaced with something colder, harder. 

Unable to hide the panic in your voice now, you continued, “Rafe …don’t … please-” 

He searched your face, “Please?” He raised an eyebrow, “My spoiled brat remembers her manners?”

“I hate you,” You tried to blink away the tears that were forming in your eyes. Rafe caressed your face, thumb dragging over your cheeks, “God, I fucking hate you.”

His hand moved to your neck, his grip tightening there, “You didn’t give a shit about him. I know you. You were settling.”

“You don’t–”

“You forget,” He squeezed tighter, "Stop pretending I don’t know you. I see right through the act. I know what excites you, what gets your heart racing. That ring? It was never what you wanted. This whole life you’ve been pretending to want. You play innocent in front of everyone-”

“Get off me–”

He squeezed harder, his grip forcing your breath to catch in your throat. Your eyes widened in panic, but his gaze never wavered. “You want the private jets, the black card, the shopping sprees that never end, the villas in Italy, the lifestyle that makes everyone look twice when you walk into a room. You want to be the center of attention, the prettiest thing in every room. You want to be seen—on someone’s arm, my fucking arm. You crave the power that comes with being with a man like me.”

“A man who can kill and get away with it. Who has the power to have someone else do all his dirty work,” His voice had grown sensual, and his dark words caressed your ear now. You weren’t breathing right but your chest did not heave up and down, you remained in the trance that his words put you in, “What would I feel if I put my hands between your legs right now?” 

“Rafe…” You whispered.

“What baby?” He purred. 

“You’re a narcissist,” To your shock, he smiled, a slow, wicked curve of his lips. And in that moment, you knew: you’d already lost.

Rafe attacked the side of your face with his mouth, leaving kisses along your jawline, before he forced his lips on yours. He tasted the same, you realized that quickly, and you were transported to a time in your life that you’d been trying to suppress the last two years. You struggled beneath him as he pressed his lower half into your, pinning you fully. 

The restraints were the cherry on top of your misery. Rafe could hold you down with no problem and yet he wanted to remind you that you were being punished. 

“You don’t have to worry about me going away again,” He whispered through warm kisses against your skin, “I’m running a tighter operation, okay?”

Your attempts to turn your face away were futile, as your bare neck became his next target. You already felt betrayed by your body. Your body remembered Rafe, and certainly remembered your weakest spot. You pulled at your restraints, stifling the moan that was threatening to leave your lips. 

“No,” you bit out, yanking at your restraints as if sheer willpower could set you free.

But Rafe only pressed more of his weight against you, pinning you further beneath him. “No?” he echoed mockingly, “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until you come for me. A few times, at least,” he murmured, his lips grazing your ear. “Gotta make up for lost time, don’t we?”

You wanted to scream at him, to spit out how impossible his demand was, how utterly absurd it was to think you could find any pleasure with the man who had done something so unforgivable, so monstrous to someone you cared for.

But the words caught in your throat, strangled by the heat coursing through you. His mouth trailed lower, and your resolve wavered. “That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone dripping with smug confidence, “don’t fight it. You know I always get what I want, baby.”

You searched your brain for the right words. “Rafe Cameron. Don’t. I won’t forgive you if you do this!” 

“I don’t need your forgiveness, baby,” He kissed the skin between your breasts, your plunging neckline leaving you vulnerable, “You’re scared you’re going to like it. That I’m right. C’mon, let Daddy take care of you.”

Rafe’s body moved lower and your panic continued. Strong, thick arms, kept your thighs pinned as Rafe teasing kisses on the outside of your thighs. If your thighs were pressed together, you had no doubt you’d feel a stickiness between them. Your body was ready even if your mind wasn’t. 

When he lifted your thin nightgown and pulled your panties to the side, you tilted your head back in defeat. Now, the battle was in not completely losing your mind. Feeling his warm breath against your most sensitive organ made you realize you’d lose that battle too and quickly. His initial movements were a clear attempt to savor you. Slowly, so painfully slow. 

The intimacy was something you weren’t prepared for. The way Rafe Cameron moved his mouth against you was extremely personal. His touch went from light and slow, gradually building up to something that was sharp and intentional. Something that didn’t change, something often left out of yours and Topper’s sex life, was a steady rhythm. 

Unfortunately, you’d been so busy with the wedding, even your wedding night was too chaotic to consummate the marriage. You hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks. 

Your first orgasm came so quickly that you hadn’t realized it was happening until your body started to convulse and a yelp was on your tongue, “Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cursed. You refused to look down at him but you couldn’t bear to look at his wicked grin. His tongue trailed down to your entrance momentarily but soon he was relentlessly attacking your sore bud again. Rafe was consuming you, “Rafe, please …okay, okay, I came. You can stop now!”

“Why would I stop, baby, when I’m giving you everything you deserve?”

He responded to every reaction. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. You struggled as much as you could and let out frustrated screams. Every attempt to pull away, he kept you steady. He pulled you closer to his mouth, using your hips as an anchor. When you inevitably felt you had nothing left to give him, he forced it out of you. 

He talked to you, coaxing you through the orgasms you were struggling to give him.

“When I’m done with you, I’ll take you home, buy you every little thing you’ve ever wanted.”

Warm and wet, that’s all your body could focus on. You were embarrassingly wet. Your entire body was warm. Your toes curled and you breathed so heavily that you thought you were having a panic attack. You were a sweaty, shaking, cursing mess by the time he finally let you go. 

After Rafe, gently undid your restraints, the coaxing continued. “Daddy’s gonna make sure you’re taken care of. Spa days. Vacations. Real ones. Anything for my girl.”

The silent treatment had never been your style. You were outspoken to a fault, the kind of person who always had something to say, even when you shouldn't. But now, the words were stuck in your throat. You curled your body away from him, your knees pulled to your chest, still trembling from the aftershocks of his touch.

The weight of the last 24 hours pressed down on you. You tried to rationalize, to convince yourself you hadn’t done anything wrong. You hadn’t pulled the trigger. But none of that mattered now. Someone was dead, and the blood felt like it was on your hands, too.

You turned your face into the pillow, desperate to block out the sight of Rafe sitting on the edge of the bed, calm and composed as if nothing had happened. Rafe Cameron didn’t earn his money honestly; you’d always known that. But the full extent of his power, the lengths to which his influence stretched, were incomprehensible. He had people who would bury bodies for him, without question, without hesitation. Who was he now? What had he become in the years since you’d last truly known him?

Your mind wandered to the kind of money he must have. Enough to make men loyal to him beyond reason. Enough to buy silence, loyalty, and the kind of life most people couldn’t even dream of. Maybe he was serious about the private jet and villas in Italy. 

You felt it in the hand he placed on your upper thigh. Power. 

 “Gonna run you a bath, baby.”

As soon as he was out of your sight, you pulled yourself up from the bed. Your eyes locked in on your bruised wrist and then lingered on your empty ring finger. Throwing weak and wobbly legs over the side of the bed, you made a dash for the bedroom doors. 

Maybe you could make it. Do the right thing. Get help-

But as you pushed open the door, the sight of a man standing just outside stopped you cold. He was armed, his posture too relaxed for someone holding that kind of power in his hands. He didn’t say a word, didn’t need to. His presence alone was the warning: Don’t even think about it.

You heard stomping, heavy footsteps of a brute you use to love, before arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you backwards. Heavy wood doors slammed and made your heart jump. 

“Running, huh?” Rafe growled in your ear, “After I’ve been so sweet to you?”

You struggled to the point that Rafe had to tackle you to the floor. You thought about Topper. You thought about the man outside the door listening to everything happening in this room. You thought about how gentle Rafe had been with you in comparison to now. You made a mistake. Running was a mistake. 

“Hey!” Rafe’s voice snapped you from your panic and you stared up at him with wide eyes, “You’re okay. These guys are here to protect you. That’s it. No one’s gonna hurt you.”

His words clashed with everything you’d seen, everything you felt. Protect you? From what? From who? The only danger in this room was him.

Rafe released one of your wrists to brush your hair from your face, the gesture at odds with the raw power still holding you down. “I’m not mad, baby,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “But don’t make me chase you again. Don’t wanna hurt you. Now, you up for that bath?”

There was no choice in the matter, you simply just gritted your teeth. You feared the second option would be to be tied up again. 

To your dismay, you undressed from your thin layer of clothing, and stepped into the bath. The warmth was a reminder of this entire home’s original purpose. Rafe seemed to have no shame about completely destroying your honeymoon. Your body was stiff and you didn’t meet his eyes as he kneeled by the tub, running his fingers through the water, before he caressed your arm, “See, not so bad,” Rafe said, “I missed you, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you missed a lot of things in jail,” Pulling your knees up cover your chest, you kept your eyes focused on the bubbles in the water. 

“I think I missed your smart mouth most of all,” You jumped at the sound of him slapping his hand against the porcelain of the tub. He rose from his kneeling position and turned in the direction of the room, “Finish up. I got you some stuff. Want you to see it.” 

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding in your chest. The warmth of the bath felt suffocating now, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air. You sank lower into the water, trying to collect your thoughts. 

You hated him. Hated the way he controlled you, the way he twisted every situation to suit his needs. But deep down, buried beneath the fear and anger, was the part of you that had always craved the kind of life only someone like Rafe could provide. And it scared you to realize that even now, when you should want nothing more than to escape, some small, selfish part of you still wanted to see what he had waiting for you.

Taking your time, you scrubbed away the scent of Rafe, although you still couldn’t shake that feeling of his mouth on you. You felt as if you had completely come undone. A part of you feared that he might have ruined you with how relentless he’d been. 

Taking back some of your modesty, you dressed in sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. He was waiting for you, immediately crossing the room, as you opened the bathroom door. Placing a gentle hand on your back, he ushered you forward, “Been thinking about this the whole time I was gone.”

On the bed was a collection of boxes, neatly arranged like a display in a high-end boutique. Your breath hitched as your eyes scanned over them. Velvet jewelry cases, designer shopping bags, and a shoebox with the logo of a luxury brand you’d only ever admired from afar. 

You turned your head to look up at him. You attempted to convey something serious, a warning, a please stop and yet you were sure you could only display uncertainty in that moment. “Don’t be shy, baby. These are for you.”

Your feet carried you forward reluctantly, your mind warring with itself. You didn’t want to feed into his delusions that he could buy your affection. But the truth was, a part of you wanted to see.

He reached for a small box first, flipping it open to reveal a ring. The diamond was massive, glittering under the light in a pear shape that was both elegant and extravagant, “I know it’s not the ring you got but it’s the one you deserve.” 

“Rafe,” you exhaled, his name slipping from your lips with a softness that startled even you. The sound was far more intimate than you intended, like an instinct you couldn’t control

Like a magnet, your hand moved towards the box. Before you could reach it, Rafe flashed you a smirk, before he took the ring of the box and gestured for your hand. Your fingers trembled. He slid the ring onto your finger with deliberate care, his touch lingering just long enough to make your pulse race.

Your lips parted in awe as you marveled down at the at least. “Oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“Told you,” he said, his voice low and full of promise. “Nothing but the best for you, baby.”

It was so beautiful, so perfect, it almost made you forget the ugliness of how it had ended up on your hand.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely recognizing your own voice. Whether the gratitude was genuine or forced, you couldn’t even tell anymore.

Rafe tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to read the thoughts behind your expression. “You deserve it,” he said softly, “You deserve everything.”

You weren’t sure if he was right but he was offering something you knew no one else could. And it scared you how much you wanted it.

Reblogs are much appreciated if you enjoyed!!

[reallyromealone]

Title: adoption 3

Fandom: my hero Academia

Characters, kiribaku and tot reader

Warnings: omegaverse, Omega male reader, dad kiribaku, baby reader, tot reader, platonic

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Though he doesn't go out fighing crime, Aizawa was still a teacher at U.A along with his mate Yamada, their son Hitoshi taking the mantle from Aizawa and Eri in grade school, nearly middle school age.

And his late entry son, Katsuki.

Like Hitoshi he was a hero but took more spotlight hero than underground, he was incredibly proud of all his kids and kept photos of them on the Mantel and now? He had a little Omega grandson, the elder Omega would be a liar if he said he didn't spoil the little tot whenever he could.

"There's our grandkid!" Yamada said as the two alphas stepped out of their car and released little (name) from his car seat prison, little bag of goldfish crackers in his hand "are those new shoes? So cool!" The older alpha carefully lifted the tot who seemed chill to say the least, knowing his grandpa very well from their weekend sleep overs.

"You ready to help us today?" (Name) Just needed a checkup from U.As doctors and his dad's were being surprise guests for the heroics classes as a favor so two birds one stone type deal "you get to hang out with me today after your checkup! Yaaay!" Yamada said happily and (name) though not quite sure what was going on but was happy none the less.

"My! You gained two pounds! Good job bud!" The U.A doctor exclaimed, Chiyo having retired a year prior and (name) just smiled at them as Kirishima cheered at (name) who chewed his crackers happily, nothing else mattered after all.

1A was confused as they whispered to one another, what was the surprise that Aizawa had for them? Oh god they hoped it wasn't extreme training!

"Class, I have two people whom I would like you to meet, they have been willing to give a presentation so behave" the teens looked excited as their teacher called the mystery people in, everyone losing their minds as the number one and the number six heroes walked in happily "they are also going to do training with you" Aizawa said after calming his students down.

(Name) Smiled as toddled behind his other grandpa, hanging with the English teacher who looked fondly at him "on listeners, this is my grandson, yes he's an Omega and no you can't go gaga over him, he will come to you when he's ready" Yamada explained as (name) lifted his little arms to be held and the older alpha complied, resting the boy on his hip before continuing his classes.

When the school day was over, (name) was fed and had a nap during the last few periods as Kirishima held him close "(naaaame)~!" He smiled as they stood in the staff room and (name) looked curious "I love you!" He said sweetly and (name) did something he didn't expect"a wo uu!" He said back without a blink and the two dad's grinned "he said it! He spoke!" They doted on him as the grandparents walked in confused "(name), say it again!" Bakugo urged his son who clapped "a wo uu!" He squealed, loving the attention.

"Such a smart boy!"

[missarchive]

bed chem 𐙚

elle greenaway

fem!reader

cw; +18 minors dni, kind of dom!reader, multiple orgasms, fingering & oral (elle receiving), tribbing, fade to black smut

wc; around 3k

an; i've been meaning to write for elle for a while and finally got around to it. dt to my lovely @reidsstargirl thank you for being my little proof reader <3

The conference room was silent except for the soft hum of the projector. Crime scene photos flashed on the screen, each more unsettling than the last. Victims frozen in snapshots of terror and tragedy. Couples, always women, always the same methodical precision to their deaths.

Hotch stood at the head of the table, arms crossed. “This unsub is methodical, patient. He takes his time earning the trust of his victims before he strikes. What we know is this: he targets lesbian couples in rural areas. He chooses women who are isolated, who he believes won’t be missed right away.”

The room was heavy with tension. You felt the weight of the case pressing against your chest. The details were chilling, but what made it worse was the pattern. He was escalating, and the longer it took to catch him, the more women would die.

“Given his methods, we believe the only way to stop him is to draw him out,” Hotch continued. His sharp gaze swept over the team. “We need to create a scenario that fits his profile—a couple he can fixate on.”

Your stomach flipped as the implication settled over the room. Before anyone could speak, Elle leaned forward in her chair.

“You’re asking us to go undercover,” she said, her voice steady.

Hotch nodded. “Yes. It’s our best chance to lure him out. He studies his victims carefully. He’ll be watching for any cracks in the facade, so whoever takes this role will need to sell it completely.”

The room was silent for a moment before Elle spoke again, her tone decisive. “I’ll do it.”

You hesitated for half a second before following her lead. “I’ll do it too.”

Hotch’s gaze softened slightly, his approval evident. “Good. Garcia will handle the backstory and setup. You’ll be moving into a rental property in a small town where the unsub has been active. The rest of us will be nearby, but once you’re in position, you’ll be on your own.”

Elle turned to you with a faint smirk as the meeting ended. “Guess we’re partners now.”

“Looks like it,” you replied, trying to ignore the knot of nerves in your stomach.

The rental house was small but cozy, nestled on a quiet street with neighbours who barely glanced your way as you unloaded your bags. It had all the makings of a perfect trap. Garcia had created a backstory that was seamless: photoshopped couple’s photos, social media accounts filled with playful banter, and a fabricated history of moving here for a “fresh start.”

Inside, Elle surveyed the living room, her hands on her hips. “Garcia really thought of everything,” she muttered, gesturing to the picture frames on the mantel. Each one showed the two of you in carefully staged moments—smiling on a picnic, laughing on a couch, holding hands in the park.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “She’s thorough, I’ll give her that.”

Elle glanced at you, her expression softening. “We’re going to need to lean into this. If the unsub’s watching, we have to make this believable.”

“I know,” you said, meeting her gaze. “But let’s be clear—this is just for the case.”

“Obviously,” Elle replied, but something in her tone felt less certain.

The bar was dimly lit, filled with the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You and Elle slid into a booth near the back, her hand resting lightly on your arm as you both scanned the room.

“We need to act natural,” she murmured, her lips barely moving as she leaned closer. “What do couples do on dates?”

You smirked, trying to ignore the warmth of her breath against your cheek. “Hold hands, flirt, make each other laugh. Think you can handle that?”

Elle raised a brow, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Watch and learn.”

She laced her fingers with yours, her touch both firm and surprisingly gentle. You felt a jolt of electricity at the contact but forced yourself to focus. Across the room, Morgan and Reid were stationed inconspicuously, their eyes occasionally darting your way.

Elle leaned closer, her voice low. “Smile. You look like you’re about to get audited.”

You laughed softly, her teasing easing some of the tension. “I didn’t realise you were such a comedian.”

“You’d be surprised,” she replied, her eyes meeting yours. For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade.

The unsub appeared not long after—a man who blended seamlessly into the crowd but whose eyes lingered on you and Elle just a moment too long.

“He’s here,” Elle murmured, her hand tightening around yours.

The unsub didn’t approach right away. He watched from the bar, nursing a drink and pretending not to stare. You and Elle had to play your roles perfectly, every glance, every touch calculated but natural.

Elle leaned into you, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “He’s watching us. We need to turn it up.”

Your heart pounded as you nodded, your breath hitching slightly when she placed a hand on your thigh. It was nothing overt, but the intimacy of the gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Relax,” she said softly, her eyes meeting yours. “Just follow my lead.”

You forced yourself to smile, leaning in closer until your foreheads nearly touched. “You’re enjoying this too much,” you teased, trying to keep the mood light.

Elle’s lips curled into a smirk. “Maybe a little.”

Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she tilted her head and kissed you. It wasn’t a quick peck or a hesitant brush of lips—it was slow, deliberate, and entirely convincing.

Your heart raced as you kissed her back, the line between acting and reality blurring with every passing second. When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her composure remained intact.

“He’s biting,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the tension crackling between you.

The unsub finally made his move, approaching your table with a disarming smile. His presence was unsettling, but you and Elle maintained your facade, playing the part of a happy couple caught off guard by a friendly stranger.

Every word, every glance, every touch was a calculated move, a delicate dance to keep the unsub engaged while the rest of the team moved into position.

By the time Morgan and Reid swooped in to make the arrest, your heart was racing for reasons that had little to do with the danger and everything to do with the woman sitting next to you.

The motel room was small and unassuming, its decor an uninspired mix of beige and muted floral patterns. The adrenaline of the night had begun to fade, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that made your limbs feel like lead. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your reflection in the darkened screen of the television.

Your mind raced, replaying the events of the evening: the way Elle had touched your hand, her voice low and warm in your ear as she coached you through the act. And that kiss—God, that kiss. It was supposed to be for the case, to sell the ruse, but the way her lips moved against yours felt too natural, too genuine to be just acting.

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thought. It was the job, you told yourself. Nothing more.

A knock at the door pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. You hesitated, staring at it as if it might open on its own. Another knock, firmer this time, broke your paralysis.

When you opened the door, Elle stood there, barefoot and dressed in an oversized FBI sweatshirt and loose sweatpants. The harsh glow of the hallway light cast soft shadows across her face, making her look younger, more vulnerable.

“Elle?” you asked, your voice rough from hours of silence.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, her tone soft but edged with something unreadable. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, stepping aside to let her pass. She walked into the room, her movements slower, more deliberate than usual.

She stopped in the center of the room, crossing her arms over her chest as if to shield herself. “I just... needed to talk,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

You closed the door behind her, leaning against it. “About the case?”

Elle turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours. For the first time all night, her composure cracked. “No. Not about the case. About us.”

The weight of her words settled between you, thick and heavy. You pushed off the door, moving closer but keeping a cautious distance. “Elle, I—”

She held up a hand, cutting you off. “Let me finish.” She took a deep breath, her hands dropping to her sides. “Tonight… that kiss… it wasn’t just for the case. At least, not for me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, her words catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

Elle took a step closer, her eyes searching yours. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe it was tonight, maybe it was before, but being with you... pretending to be something we’re not...” She paused, her voice trembling slightly. “It didn’t feel like pretending.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension. You wanted to say something, to reassure her, but words failed you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she continued, her voice stronger now. “And I know it’s complicated. We’re colleagues, we’re supposed to keep things professional, but I can’t ignore this anymore.”

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you until you were standing inches apart. Her eyes flicked to your lips, and you felt your resolve slipping.

“Elle,” you said softly, your voice barely audible. “I felt it too.”

Her breath hitched, and in that moment, the tension that had been building for weeks, maybe months, finally snapped. She reached for you, her hands tentative at first as they settled on your shoulders. You leaned into her touch, your arms wrapping around her waist as her fingers slipped up the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Her lips were soft against yours, warm and inviting. It felt like coming home, like this was where you belonged. Her tongue darted out, running over the seam of your lips before dipping inside, meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

You deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, feeling the press of her breasts against yours. Her hands slid down your back, pulling you into her as her leg lifted, brushing against your thigh. You felt your pulse quicken, the heat between you building as her lips parted beneath yours.

You broke the kiss, needing air, needing to focus on her, to commit every detail to memory. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her hair a little mussed from your touch. Your eyes drifted down to her breasts, the curves pushing out against the fabric of her bra.

You moved closer, dropping a trail of kisses down her neck as she arched into your touch. You felt her shiver, her fingers digging into your shoulders. Her breath came in short gasps, her body moving against yours.

You caught the edge of her bra between your fingers, pushing it down to reveal her breasts. They were even more beautiful than you imagined, soft and round. Your mouth settled over one peaked nipple, and her hands cupped the back of your head, encouraging you as your tongue circled around her skin.

She tasted sweet, like cherries and honey. Her nipple pebbled beneath your touch, and you sucked it into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

You let out a soft laugh, smiling against her breast. She was so responsive, like her body was made for this, for you.

You trailed your fingers down her stomach, feeling her skin quiver beneath your touch. Her hips jerked, and you chuckled again, loving the way she reacted to your every move.

Your hand slipped beneath her panties, cupping the curve of her ass as you nipped at her breast. Your other hand joined in, sliding over her pussy as you rubbed your thumb over her clit. She gasped, her body jerking beneath your touch.

You felt your own arousal build, your panties growing wet as you imagined the possibilities. Elle was more than you ever could’ve asked for, more than you deserved.

But you were taking it, taking her, taking this moment to make it yours.

Your fingers slipped inside her, feeling her pussy stretch around you as you pumped in and out, your thumb still rubbing circles over her clit.

Her legs started to shake, and you could feel her pussy tightening around your fingers. “Fuck,” she moaned, her nails digging into your shoulder. “Y/N, fuck.”

The feeling of your name on her lips was the hottest thing you’d ever heard. You fucked her harder, feeling her pulse beneath your fingertips. She felt so good, so wet and tight.

Her muscles clenched, and her pussy contracted around your fingers as she came. “Fuck!” she screamed, her hips jerking as she rode out her orgasm. Your fingers stilled inside her, your thumb slowing to a gentle pet before slipping away completely.

You pulled back, giving her a moment to catch her breath before you dropped to your knees in front of her. You hooked a finger around the waistband of her panties, tugging them down over her hips, her thighs, leaving them bunched around her ankles.

Her pussy was even more beautiful than you’d imagined, pink and swollen and dripping wet. You ran your thumb along the slit, feeling your pulse quicken as you dipped it inside.

She let out a little mewl, her hand tangling in your hair. You took it as a good sign and leaned forward, running your tongue along the wet line of her pussy.

She tasted so fucking good, sweet like candy and sharp like citrus. Your mouth moved over her, licking and sucking as you devoured every inch of her. Her hands tightened in your hair, pushing you closer until your nose was buried between her thighs.

She smelled like vanilla and coconut. It made your mouth water, made you want more.

You licked harder, moving in short quick strokes as your tongue flicked over her clit. Her body jerked with every touch, her muscles tensing as she neared her climax.

Your fingers moved, joining your tongue as you fingered her hard.

She came fast, her pussy pulsing around your fingers and tongue as she screamed your name. You let her come down from her high before pulling back, your mouth moving in one last swipe before you stood.

You were covered in her arousal, but you didn’t care. Elle’s eyes were hazy, her cheeks flushed pink as she gazed up at you.

“Y/N,” she said softly.

You didn’t need her to finish the sentence. You knew exactly what she wanted, because you wanted it too.

You stripped her down, removing her dress and bra until she stood before you completely naked. It was a sight you’d never get tired of, all smooth curves and long legs that were just begging to be tangled with yours.

You took your time undressing yourself, teasing her with every movement. Her hands came up, her fingers tracing over the curves of your breasts as you pushed them free from your bra. You dropped the fabric to the floor and stood before her, letting her touch wherever she wanted.

Your body was warm from your exertions, flushed pink and trembling with desire. Elle’s hands roamed over you, feeling your every contour.

You leaned into her touch, wanting it to last forever. Her fingers teased over your nipples, and you bit back a moan.

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice low and raspy.

You didn’t know if she meant she wanted to fuck you or be with you, and for now, you didn’t care because you wanted it all.

You kissed her again, your tongue tangling with hers as you stumbled toward the bed. You fell in a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, laughing and kissing as you fought for dominance.

You pinned her beneath you, your hips settling between her legs. You ground down, rubbing your pussy against hers as you kissed her neck.

“You're so beautiful, Elle,” you groaned, your body already starting to build.

You rubbed faster, your clit aching for friction. Elle’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as you rocked over her. You felt her lips wrap around your nipple, sucking it into her mouth, and your vision started to blur.

Your hips moved on their own accord, grinding faster and harder. You were getting close, too close, and you didn’t want it to end.

Elle let out a soft gasp, her hips starting to jerk with her own orgasm. Her mouth found yours again, her tongue dipping inside as you came.

It was like the entire world had exploded in a wave of heat and colour. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but Elle and the way her pussy felt against yours.

You rode out your climax, feeling her come against you as well. The feeling of her pulsing against you was almost too much, and you couldn’t help the soft cry that escaped your lips as another orgasm hit you.

You came in waves, clenching and releasing as Elle ground down against you.

You collapsed on top of her, your body trembling with aftershocks as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

Elle’s fingers traced over your spine, petting and soothing you as she held you close. It was comfortable and intimate and everything you wanted from her.

“Y/N?” she murmured softly.

“Stay here tonight?”

You lifted your head, gazing down at her. Her hair was mussed, her face still flushed pink from their exertions. “I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

You settled back against her, holding her close as your bodies intertwined. For tonight at least, you’d have her, and that was all that mattered. The rest could wait until tomorrow.

[gingiesworld]

Family Is Forever

Chapter Three

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst.

Taglist: @fxckmiup @ginnsbaker @gb12d @casquinhaa @angrywhisperslove @louxbloom @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin

18+ MINORS DNI

The next day came around pretty fast, Y/N had already had the lawyers draw up the papers, not wanting to draw the divorce out any longer than it needed to.

"So, we're doing it here?" Wanda questioned as she sat on the sofa as Y/N stood before the mantel, looking over the pictures of the four of them.

"Yeah, I figured it won't be long." They told her honestly, picking up the picture of the two of them stood outside of Tony's cabin. "I love this photo, I always thought you were stunning even of you hated the wind in your hair."

"What are you doing?" Wanda snapped as Y/N put the picture back in it's place.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention." They told her just as the doorbell rang, Wanda just huffed as she got up to answer it. Allowing the divorce lawyer inside as the three soon moved to the dining table. Both Wanda and Y/N sat opposite each other.

"So, what is the reason for this divorce, is it infidelity?" The lawyer questioned as the two shook their heads no.

"I guess we just drifted apart." Y/N told them as they looked away from Wanda. Wanda hummed in agreement as the lawyer sighed.

"We won't be able to get this divorce finalised as fast as you both would like." He told the two as he placed his pen down. "You will need to be separated for at least 6 months before a divorce can be filed. Even then it's a trial separation and marriage counselling is advised."

Both Y/N and Wanda shared a look before Wanda looked away, leaving Y/N with the talking.

"I don't think that counselling is an option." Y/N told him. "This decision by the two of us is set in stone."

"So it will be a trial separation, then in 6 months we can revisit the divorce. If that is what you both really want." He said as the two nodded. "I understand you both have a prenup and you have children, yes?"

"Yes." Wanda answered. "We are going to split the custody."

"And I am moving out so Wanda and the boys have the house." They spoke up. "Also I am still going to be paying for the boys, providing for them. Whatever they need."

"I do suggest going through the court for the child support, just incase of unforseen circumstances." He told the two.

"You mean like if I don't pay it one month?" Y/N questioned, Wanda could see that they were getting irritated by the insinuation.

"Y/N isn't like that, they never ever let the boys down." Wanda defended them. "This marriage is ending, not because we don't love each other."

"But because I haven't really had the time to split between work, Wanda and the boys." Y/N admitted as they looked at Wanda. "And I can't make a promise of something that isn't really in my control as I do travel for work sometimes, and Wanda deserves more than what I can give her." Y/N looked at the lawyer as Wanda's gaze remained on her soon to be ex. "We're going to co-parent the boys and Wanda has my schedule and she will get any changes made to it too." Y/N informed them both. "I have also just made appointment to sign a lease at an apartment nearby."

"What about belongings?" He questioned as Y/N sat up straight.

"I already took everything of my own." They told him.

"You only took your clothes." Wanda told them as Y/N nodded.

"I did take everything of my own." They repeated. "All of the furniture and electrical gadgets are all yours and the twins, I won't take anything more than what I already have."

"Ok." The lawyer hummed. "It seems you have everything under control with this separation." He packed away his papers before bidding the two good luck.

"So." Wanda started as Y/N stood up, pushing their chair back in it's place.

"I best be off." They told her. "I've got these reports from last week that areway behind."

"Ok." Wanda whispered. "Do you maybe want to have dinner tonight? I'm sure the twins would love to see you." Y/N inhaled shakily as they looked at the woman who will always have their heart.

"Yeah." They nodded. "I'll be here at the usual time."

"Thank you." Wanda told them as she walked them to the door.

"Why don't you open a book shop." Y/N suggested as Wanda looked taken aback. "It was always a dream you had and you have more than enough money in your account to do it."

"I don't know the first thing about running a business." Wanda admitted as Y/N gave her a tender smile.

"The community college has a business course that you could do." They told her. "You could learn everything you need to."

"But I have the twins." Wanda told them.

"I can always have them on the nights you have classes." They told her honestly. "I know you can do this Wanda so please just, make your dream come true. Do it for yourself."

"You really think I can do it?" She whispered as Y/N just nodded.

"I know you can." With that, they left her as she watched them drive away from the house. She started to wonder amidst all of the separation, she forgot about the dream she had before the twins were even a thought. Maybe because when she had that dream, Y/N would be by her side as she opened.

Once Y/N had finally made into the office, Tony greeted them as he dragged them into his own office. Gesturing for them to take a seat as he closed the door.

"I hear that you are having some trouble at home." He stated as Y/N sighed.

"Wanda and I are going through a separation." They stated calmly.

"So that's the reason for the recent splurge in absences." He stated as Y/N nodded.

"I've had to move out and well, I have an appointment for an apartment near the house so I am still there for the twins." They rambled as Tony held his hand up for them to stop.

"I understand Y/N but we can't be behind on weekly reports. It's not a good sight, especially on me." Tony told them. "Maybe you should step down from your senior position."

"No. I don't need to." Y/N told him. "I only have one appointment left and then the rest I am going to be doing in my own time. It's just this is hard right now and well."

"Maybe you should take a sebatical?" He suggested as Y/N shook their head no.

"That isn't an option." They stated. "I can assure you that this will not happen again Mr Stark. I just have a small appointment this week which I can take out of my lunch break. It's just signing a lease and picking up the keys for my new place."

"I am trusting your word Y/N." He told them sternly as Y/N thanked him before heading back to their own office to get to work. Time passed fairly quickly as they sent the late reports of and started on the new. They had also completely lost track of time, so they soon raced to the house just in time for dinner to be served.

"O'PA!!!" The twins yelled once they entered the house.

"Hey boys." They beamed as they hugged the twins, kissing the top of their heads before seeing Wanda stood in the doorway. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're here, that's all that matters." Wanda stated indifferently. Although the sight of the three of them made her heart swell, she still felt the heartbreak that this is only brief.

The two listened as Tommy was telling them about an upcoming game he has this weekend to which both Y/N and Wanda stated they wouldn't miss it. That was something that Wanda could trust with Y/N, they never missed a chance to cheer on the boys.

"When's the decathlon meet?" Y/N asked Billy who smiled shyly, something he gets from his mom.

"In 4 months." He told them. "We're just studying for the possible subjects and questions we could be asked."

"That's awesome Billy." Wanda beamed at him.

"Be sure to save me a ticket for it." Y/N told him as he just nodded. Once dinner was over, the boys had disappeared to do their homework as Y/N helped Wanda clean.

"You don't have to do this." Wanda told them.

"I know." They said as they put the dishes away. "I guess I, never mind." Wanda turned to face them, seeing them troubled was something she never liked to see.

"Are you ok?" She asked them as they gave her a tight lipped smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine." They told her, although she didn't buy it. "I guess I am going to go."

"Yeah." Wanda nodded as she watched Y/N disappear to say goodbye to the twins before Wanda met them at the door. "Be careful." She told them as they nodded, already making their way back to the office to get up to date on the work that has been piling up on their desk. Their head in their hands as they let the tears slip through, wiping them away faster than they would fall.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Fans Confused After Alison Victoria Lists ‘Dream Home’ For Sale. Wait. Her GA loft didn't sell, and she was supposed to be selling that to finance a new place in the Cabbagetown section of Chicago. Now, I'm confused, too. Anyway, this is an ugly ass building. The 4bd, 3.5ba, property is listed for $3.5M. Let's have a look (if you recall, Alison is the designer who did the "Ugliest House" I posted yesterday.)

Victoria worked to transform her office space into a residential home, which she envisioned as “the biggest, the baddest, the sexiest live-work dream home I could ever imagine.”

Although she’s called it her “Dream Home” home for several months now, fans online noticed that Victoria is quietly planning to part ways with her live-work space. What is going on?

She has posted photos from her dream home as recently as April 9, just before the building hit the real estate market. Well, I like the muted green chairs and planters. The floor is reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland.

One fan brought the home’s listing to an HGTV fan community on Reddit, where other users chimed in with their thoughts about the sale. (I'm an avid Redditor.)

“I thought she was building this to be her dream home/workspace? Or was this always to sell right away?” one fan wondered, with another guessing in response, “In reality it was always just content for her show.”

So, that's just a mantel with candles, then.

“I don’t think many people would be interested in buying this but it might work for someone who has a business and can live on the premises like what she claimed it was intended for," said another fan.

"I think more than likely it would be an event space esp for a wedding w/the option to stay overnight," said a 3rd fan.

Interesting wall with the big niche for decor, oven and 2 wine fridges.

One user pointed out in the comments, “There are no windows! I’d go crazy ! No, the sky lights not enough." Yeah, it's like an underground house.

Shoot, no matter how nice it is, I like the lighted shelving, no windows is a deal breaker. I'd feel imprisoned.

Interesting en-suite.

“The closets are full of clothes and shoes. Not staged stuff, real stuff," said a fan.

Nice little home theater lobby with a snack counter.

This is it? I was expecting a home theater, not a TV room.

Interesting light strand in the powder room.

Long hall to the wide industrial stairs.

One of the other bedrooms. I can't deal with just skylights, I gotta see what the weather's like and all.

One of the other baths. My love of floating sinks is kind of leery of something this big. I feel like it would break loose eventually.

"The mudroom looks like it has a little kid's jackets or maybe they’re just tiny women’s jackets. regardless, it looks like Alison or a family is living there. Interesting,” another fan pointed out.

Exercise depresses me enough, let alone doing it in this room.

I'm gonna say that this is the work area, where the team gathers to discuss design. Interesting that this is the area that has the windows.

The garages in the back of the building.

I'm no designer, but this building wouldn't have appealed to me as a home/work space. I would look for an end unit with more windows.

https://heavy.com/entertainment/hgtv/alison-victoria-lists-dream-home-sale/

https://www.coldwellbankerhomes.com/il/chicago/2733-n-pulaski-rd/pid_58881660/

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #11, secret

Read parts 1-9 on AO3 here

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Ten

They were riding in the backseat of a taxi to 221b Baker Street when Sherlock was struck by an unexpected and most unwelcome bout of nervousness.

Would John like the flat? Or would he decline like the previous nine potential flatmates? Sherlock gnawed his lower lip. Will I lose John as quickly as I have found him?

Sherlock remembered when one week ago, he had whined about this to Mike Stamford (Sherlock prefered to call it “complained”). As in being unable to find a suitable flatemate.

He told Mike that so far, every time a candidate had come to take a look at 221b, they had more or less quickly fled, using all kinds of excuses. Dumb ones like “sorry, gotta dash, I forgot to switch off the stove”, plausible ones like “bugger, it’s late, I need to be at work now” or ridiculous ones like the faked phone call that claimed “emergency at home, the neighbour’s run over my hamster with the lawn mower”. And so on and on.

Some of the disturbed looking candidates had kept their composure and simply went down the stairs whereas others had resembled headless chicken, about to run into a wall on their hurried way out.

Whichever way they ran, run they did. Why this always had happened every time remained a secret to Sherlock, one he could not solve. For all his observational and deductive skils, Sherlock stayed clueless about what scared them off.

(To everybody else it would be quite obvious.

The aspiring flatmates were greeted by a real human skull on the mantel and discovered a whole armoury of deadly weapons in the flat, reaching from a razor-sharp looking dagger over an antique Turkish scimitar to a literally bloody whaler’s harpoon. One peeked into the frigde and found himself face to foot with a human foot that was beginning to decompose. Another one was deeply troubled by the scrapbook with gory crime scene photos on the desk. A third one found the kitchen table strewn with the remnants of guinea pig embryos.

Sherlock found all of these circumstances perfectly normal, of course. Whereas these were deeply disturbing to the flatmates-to-be and triggered their instict of self-preservation. They presumed they would cohabitate with a murderous madman and left as long as they could.)

Anyway, after Sherlock’s complaining (whining) to Mike about his predicament, Mike had come up with a name (John Watson) claiming this man could be the pot to Sherlock’s kettle. Sherlock wanted to know more about this mystery man but Mike had simply smiled and said “Go and deduce him yourself, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s interest had been piqued but it died a sudden death when he found out that the address Mike had given him was “Bernie’s Bed Shop”.

How could Mike assume that Sherlock would be interested in sharing his flat with a stupid salesman of boring beds? Sherlock had grumbled for three days about Mike’s proposal but then the next two other candidates had run from the flat and Sherlock had caved and had gone to the Bed Shop for a stake-out.

As soon as Sherlock had seen John limping to the shop and opening the front door with a trembling hand, he had deduced all about this fascinating doctor-soldier-salesman. Sherlock immediately fell in love.

In the present, Sherlock decided to be extra cautious and give John a heads-up about the state the flat was in.

“Erm, John, a warning concerning the flat, though. It’s a bit cluttered at the moment (a blatant understatement) with all my moving boxes and the things that have not yet found their final place (and most of them also never would). So please, don’t let this scare you away.”

(Let’s attest it to Sherlock’s current nervousness and distracted state of mind (palace) that he even considered such a warning might discomfort John when all it did was the exact opposite.)

“It won’t, I promise.” John said and became more curious by the minute. What possible dangers might lurk there in secret parts of the flat?

+++++

It's late and I`ve just finished this, so please don't mind possible any typos.

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[alotofpockets]

Wedding memories | Yelena Belova

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Your kids want to know more about your wedding day. You spent the afternoon showing them your wedding album and telling them stories of your and Yelena's special day. [Full request]

Marvel masterlist | Words: 1K

You were sitting on the floor of your living room surrounded by your kids. Ollie and Flynn were sitting on the ground with you, playing trains, while Milo, your youngest, was sound asleep in your wife's arms. The boys had been wanting to play trains all day after seeing a real train on their way home from visiting their grandparents. You happily played along driving the train carts around or making the tracks shift, the boys were smiling from ear to ear, which in return made you very happy. 

Looking up at Yelena you smile. She gives you a warm smile back and you think of how proud you are of your little family together. They were everything you had dreamed of growing up. You know that Yelena didn’t always have the wish to have kids, but once they took down Dreykov and the whole red room program, she slowly started showing interest in wanting kids of her own. Now years later you were the proud parents of three perfect boys.

While you were looking at your wife, Flynn seemed to have lost complete interest in the trains, and was now looking at a picture on the mantel. He had recently become interested in wanting to know what everything was and meant, you loved seeing him explore and broaden his world. You were always happy to share your knowledge on any topic he had questions about, and when you didn’t know the answer, you would grab your phone or laptop and learn something new with him. “Mommy, why are you and Mama dressed so nice in this picture?” Flynn asked curiously.

“That picture was taken on a very special day, Mama and I got married that day. Do you remember what that means?” The boy enthusiastically nods his head, “That’s when two people that love each other celebrate loving each other forever.” You smile, “Yes, very good! We have a lot of other pictures from that day, would you like to see?” His eyes widened enthusiastically, he was so eager to know everything, it was adorable. You look over at Ollie and notice that he was more interested in the pictures than the trains, so you say, “Okay, Flynn and Ollie, if you go put your trains away, and then sit with Mama, I will be right back with the pictures.” You were rather excited to show the kids yourself, you would never miss an opportunity to talk about the love you have for your wife. 

When you join the others back in the living room, photo album in hand, you see how adorable they sit cuddled up to Yelena. You snap a quick picture before they notice you there. Then you quickly make your way over to the couch. You lift up Ollie and place him on your lap, while Flynn stays seated between you and Yelena. The photo album was made mostly in order of everything related to your wedding, it starts off with a couple pictures of Yelena proposing to you. Yelena is the first to start talking about the picture, “So, this is when I asked Mommy if she wanted to marry me. I was very nervous, because Mommy is very important to me and I love her so much. Luckily, she said yes right away! After that day we started to plan our wedding day, we even got to taste many cakes to see which ones we liked best.” 

You continue flipping through the pages and explaining bits and pieces of each one of the pictures placed in the album. Flynn and Ollie are fully invested in everything, which warms your heart, they’re such sweet boys. When guests start showing up in the album they enthusiastically point out all their family members, “Auntie Nat and Auntie Wanda!” Was the first person that Flynn saw, quickly followed by, “And Auntie Kate!” Who was spotted by Ollie. You explain to them that Natasha and Wanda were your maids of honor and that Kate was the ring bearer, which meant that they were extra special guests. 

Both you and Yelena had the biggest smiles on your faces while reminiscing on your wedding day and getting to experience the joy all over again with your three little ones. The boys had probably never had their attention on one thing more before, it was adorable how they were asking about each little detail as new pictures were shown. When you got to the end of the album you closed it and placed it down on the coffee table. “Then after the wedding, we wanted to grow our love and had you three and now our lives are complete. We love you boys so much.” You kiss Flynn and Ollie’s heads and peck your wife on the lips. 

“I have an idea.” Yelena says out loud, “How about we go celebrate these special memories by getting some ice cream?” Of course, both Flynn and Ollie are over the moon about that idea, they both run off to grab their shoes. “Mama, can you help please.” You take Milo from her arms and move him over to the stroller. The five of you head to the ice cream parlor in the park and eat your ice creams on a bench watching the ducks in the pond. When you’re all finished with your ice creams, you clean their hands and faces before letting them play on the playground. You put your arm around Yelena on the bench and pull her a little closer to you. “Our family makes me so happy, baby. Thank you for loving me and raising the perfect family with me. I love you so much, Yelena.” She intertwines your fingers in her lap and kisses your check. “I love you very much too, darling. I cannot imagine my life without you or our boys. I’m very happy with how far we have come and I can’t wait to grow old with you and watch the kids grow up together.”

[saiyanwitcher]

You clearly put a lot of thought into PoD, what is your favorite Easter egg? Or is there something you have planted that we as readers have not noticed yet?

Oh there are so many, I don't even know where to start, and I apologize for this long answer in advance!!🫣

I seeded/planted a lot of the endgame ideas for this story very early on that I think weren't noticed or are more there for like a reread when you know what is going to happen. Some of them haven't fully been revealed yet so I won't share, but others I can point out!

Chapter 6 had this line: "Only Max and Jos knew the truth about the demise of planet Toro, and he would take that secret with him to the grave." This has since been revealed in chapter 29 when Max tells Charles what really happened, but I don't think I got any comments at the time about that throw away line in 6. Chapter 14 also referenced Jos trying to get Max to beg again like he did for Toro with the line: "You think your pleas mean anything to me now after all these years trying to make you beg again?" And also later in 14 with: Without so much as looking back, Charles yelled out, “They're all dead because of you!” and the double doors slammed shut behind him.

Chapter 8 referenced the revelation that Carlos and Charles were half bothers with the line: "Be careful, brother," he warned, voice tinged with disdain like the word tasted bad in his mouth." And then another reference in 18: “Then why him, your Highness ? What does he have that I don’t? He's third-class, just like me. He—he's even worse than that . . . a fucking purge infant! A bastard. A symbol of shame on my house and family.”

Chapter 18 has this line: “It's a bracelet,” Charles began softly, his voice filled with a mix of hope and worry, “This one in particular . . . is supposed to keep the wearer safe. It’s something my father gave me before he passed away. He said it had been in the family for generations, always protecting those who wore it from harm.” This line is significant because as soon as Charles took it off and gave it to max, he was then hurt by George very shortly after, and Max was more unharmed than usual on his assignment. Also, since Charles has not been wearing it and Max has, Charles has gotten himself into all kinds of trouble . . .

Here are also just some general ideas behind some key moments that are worth of mentioning and my personal favorites:

The whole edit graphic for Chapter 8 still makes me giggle and it's where the chessboard parallels started for this fic. The photo of Carlos in a white shirt and Charles in a black shirt representing white and black sides on the board. White always makes the first move in chess and this alluded to Carlos being the older son/first lover of Max. Then the photo in the center of that graphic with the white king smashing the black king alluded to Carlos being a long standing opponent to anyone getting near Max. Carlos' later deeds with the camera and the anon report confirmed that.

Another fun one is George being revealed to have also been a stolen prince, just like Max, but claims that he gave up that title and old life in favor of fully committing to his new role and identity within the PTO. BUT . . . George still wears his mantel from Elysia as part of his PTO uniform 🤭 Chapter 9 has this line: Charles watched him tuck his tablet under his arm and retreat down the hall with a long light blue cape flapping behind him. Even Max doesn't wear his mantel from Toro, so maybe George hasn't completely given up like he thinks he has?

And alright, because I can't help myself, here are some lines that allude to later parts of the story coming up that maybe people glanced over:

Chapter 6: “This boost is also Jos’ greatest fear.” Alonso continued, drawing Charles confused gaze again. “Tales of a legendary Torossian warrior that would appear every one thousand years were known throughout the universe. Most of the knowledge around the conditions required to break through into the altered state were lost with Toro, but even Jos knew this warrior would've been able to challenge him.”

Chapter 6: "I'm not a good man, Charles."

Chapter 7: “On Earth, we have wish orbs that are scattered across the globe. When you locate all seven and bring them to a sacred temple, you can have a wish granted by a spiritual being that accepts the orbs as payment."

Chapter 12: The emperor’s most prized possessions from his conquests and victories were displayed prominently throughout the room. Heads of rebel forces and more than a few Torossian tails were mounted on the walls, trophies of his unimaginable cruelty. 

Chapter 12: Those familiar cerulean jewels that always made him smile and feel tingly inside, melted into molten pools of fire and rage. Max's eyes reflected back at him in the dim room like caged Hell, ready to be unleashed causing untold devastation. His wet hair, darker than its normal blonde, had even started to glow like spun strands of golden silk at the tips. 

Chapter 19: “A compatible match? What does that mean?” “It means that your energy frequency is on the same plane as the prince's. Another part of being an Eldri is that you can give part of your energy to your mate when they are in duress. I, myself, am unfamiliar with the process, but I’ve heard of it being done.”

Chapter 26: Walking closer, he had the feeling that he was being watched. Perhaps it was just his tired mind playing tricks on him, but he couldn't help but feel like eyes were following him.

Eyes that weren't the prince's.

[mimisempai]

A picture of happiness

Summary

Dream's eyes catch a new framed photo placed on the mantel and taking it in his hands, he remembers.

Notes

Inspired by the selfie Vivienne took with Ferdie and Tom at the Basingstoke comic con here

On AO3

Rating G - 450 words

As Dream walked toward the kitchen, his eyes were drawn to a new picture frame on the mantel.

He reached out and grabbed it, smiling fondly. Of course, it was this photo that Hob had chosen to frame.

After discovering that he could use his smartphone in the Dreaming, he had taken pictures of everything. Promising, of course, that they would never leave the house.

He could have framed one of the photos of the magical landscapes or creatures he had captured, but no, he had chosen this one. 

A photo of Dream, Lucienne and Hob. 

Or rather a selfie, as he said.

Dream couldn't help but chuckle as he thought about the circumstances under which this photo had been taken.

Dream was looking at the scenery of his realm when suddenly a hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him to Hob, who playfully said, "Kiss me."

Dream didn't hesitate, of course, but just as his lips were about to touch Hob's, he was pulled away and Lucienne's head was between theirs.

Then, a little mischievous twinkle in her eye, she said in an amused tone, "If you are going to take a selfie here, Hob Gadling, I demand to be in it."

Dream was confused at first, but then understood when he saw Lucienne grab the phone from Hob's hand. Given his position, his facetious lover had obviously intended to take a picture of them kissing.

He sighed, "Hob..."

Hob shrugged sheepishly, "I would have at least tried."

Suddenly, Lucienne pulled them both closer before standing in front of them, holding the phone out in front of her at arm's length.

With a little mischievous smile she said to them, "Come on, boys, smile... especially you, my lord..."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dream saw Hob, who had rested his head on Lucienne's shoulder, looking sulky but unable to stop himself from smiling, and that was enough for him to not hold back his own smile.

"Well, there you go, you can do it whenever you want," Lucienne said in a victorious tone before pressing the screen to take the picture.

Dream looked at the picture in silence for a few more moments before gently placing it back on the mantelpiece.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around him from behind and Hob's chin rested on his shoulder as he said softly, "Nice picture, isn't it?"

Dream leaned his head against Hob's and replied in the same tone, "It's perfect."

It was.

He understood why Hob had highlighted it, more than the beautiful landscapes or supernatural beings he had captured in the Dreaming.

It was simply a picture of happiness.

And there was nothing more beautiful than that.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝I

Dreamling Masterlist here

[joandfriedrich]

My Trip to Concord: Part Two

Location 2: Orchard House

We went up the path that lead to the church, and there was a table for guests to sign in with their info and whatever message they’d like to leave. I wrote something like “Best birthday ever for the biggest Little Women fan.” Beside it was a small garden and while it didn’t have any flowers, it was nice to imagine what could have been, and it being the cutest garden.

The tour started in the church, and I was able to get these photos.

Apologizes that the cabinet picture isn’t the greatest, but it was a picture of what appears to be Joan of Arc, and my friend wondered if perhaps Abigail had painted that too. While we waited, we watched this documentary piece (we did miss part of the beginning because we ran a little late at the cemetery) where an actress played LMA and gave a small tour of the house. Something worth noting, and it will be particularly sweet to a certain demographic, when the fictional LMA was showing the pictures from the house, she referred Thoreau as a “very, very, very special friend”. It made me smile like an idiot.

When it finished, our guide told us that this was the school of Philosophy, where Bronson was the superintendent. The bench by the tree was the bench Bronson often sat at. Then moving into the house, we started in the kitchen and I snuck this picture in before being told that we were not allowed any pictures. If you want a good idea of how the interior looks, the 1994 film did a phenomenal job with the design, the colors are a bit different, but the structure is pretty much the same.

This was where the well was, and it was protected by plexiglass. It’s interesting, because in October I got to see Edgar Allan Poe’s house in Baltimore, and Orchard house is so much bigger than that, and it really did feel as cozy and inviting as you’d imagine. From the kitchen to the dining room, it had a picture of LMA over the mantel by the stairs, one that was done after her illness and by the same painter who did Abraham Lincoln. The china in the cabinet was the family china, belonging to her mother, which is why it has “May” engraved as it was her maiden name.

The only bedrooms we saw were the parents, which had a small offshoot of Anna’s twin boys’ room, Abigail and, of course, Louisa. The rooms were all very good size, though Abigail's was smaller than the other two, but I get it, she was the youngest, and if remembering correctly, she moved out/was in Europe at an early age, and didn't need the space. What was so cool as seeing her artwork all around her room, protected by plexiglass, and a copy of her painting La Négresse, was featured in her room.

Louisa's room was my favorite, not just because it's Louisa, but because it had the coziest feel, was sunny, and had such a great history there. Our guide shared that Louisa stayed in this room primarily when she was sick during the war, and Abigail would keep her company, and while she lamented she couldn't get Louisa flowers (as they were pricey), she painted flowers in her room, and it's still there, and very beautiful. It's a black background, with calla lilies and some red flower I am not sure of (you can see a part of it if you look at Abigail's wiki page.).

Something to note, at various places around the house, there were small baskets of fake apples, and my mom asked me "what's with the apples", and I said, "well, it is called orchard house." And then a few minutes later, the guide said that there used to be apple trees that grew nearby and Bronson was known to give people apples even if they didn't ask for it. His study was pretty cool, saw a pocket watch holder that worked as well as a clock. On the shelf, the people of the museum filled it with different versions of LMA's works from all over the world, both in style and in language.

Off from there was Abigail's small art studio, which had a dollhouse like case where different scenes from Little Women are played out. And they discovered underneath the wallpaper and whatnot, outlines of Abigail's artwork, profiles of people that had come to visit, and the museum had protected it with plexiglass, and on that highlighted the profiles.

At the end, we were in the store and there were so many awesome things there that I could have wasted my money there, but I settled on a few things.

Starting at the top and going clockwise, a magnet with Louisa on it with the quote "Nothing is impossible to a determined woman". Next is a small book called "The Language of Flowers" which is, as the cover says, flowers and their meanings". Next is "Merry Christmas and Other Christmas Stories" written by LMA. "Orchard House: Home of Little Women" is a Emmy winning documentary, and was the one that played in the church, and next to it is the Katharine Hepburn Little Women (they had the 33, 94, 19 versions, but I was surprised they didn't have the 17 or even the 49 film, though that is apparently a tough find). Above her, is little kids book called "Little Women: A Playtime Primer", and it's going to be a gift for my nephew. Above that is an ornament of Orchard house with an engraving of LMA, and in the center is a tote bag.

I also got a candle that's called Pickled Limes, and holy crap it smells amazing! A sweet limey scent, which reminded me of @thegamineingrey post of how they were like candy back in the day, and I totally get it. Also, bonus inside, an umbrella charm which was what really sealed the deal, if not for the scent.

Here are pics of the outside of Orchard House, many of which were taken by my mom, since I was too busy just admiring the place.

Suffice to say, it is a beautiful house, full of a rich history and, just as the book, still feels relevant and like going home. I am glad we were able to make the trip out to see this amazing house.

[wrestlinghistorywithkay]

Jim Cornette: A Wrestling Icon

In honor of Jim Cornette’s birthday, I wanted to write an article celebrating his storied career in professional wrestling.

Jim Cornette is a wrestling manager, agent, booker , promoter, trainer , photographer, color commentator, promoter, and a part time professional wrestler . He is also an author , wrestling historian, and the host of popular podcasts , ‘ The Jim Cornette Experience’, and ‘ Jim Cornette’s Drive Thru’ alongside producer and co-host, Brian Last. Cornette began his storied career in professional wrestling at the age of 14, working at the Louisville Gardens in his hometown of Louisville, Kentucky. He would have jobs such as a photographer, ring announcer , magazine correspondent, PR Correspondent, and a time keeper. Cornette also befriended Christine Jarrett, a wrestling promoter , and the mother of the promoter of the CWA ( Continental Wrestling Association ), Jerry Jarrett ( The father of Jeff Jarrett. Christine is Jeff’s grandmother.) . The CWA is also known as the Memphis Territory. The photos that Cornette took while in the Memphis Territory would be published regularly in a Japanese wrestling magazine , called ‘ Gong’. The photos would be a regular occurrence from 1977 to 1982.

In 1982, Jim Cornette would begin writing the programs for local arena shows , continuing to have his photography work published in popular wrestling magazines , and being a contributor to Championship Wrestling Magazine . Thus, the same year , Cornette would be hired as manager by Jerry Jarrett after attending a match between Jerry ‘ The King ’ Lawler and ‘ The Nature Boy ’ Ric Flair. Cornette would also state that this would be the first time he would be allowed to enter the locker room after being tolerated at live wrestling shows and TV tapings for almost ten years. Cornette would choose the name , James E. Cornette as the one he would use during shows. This was a tribute to promoter, James E.Barnett. On September 25,1982 , Cornette would make his debut as a manager for Sherri Martel , who would become a manager herself and later be known as ‘ Sensational Sherri’. Cornette adopted the gimmick of a spoiled rich kid turned clumsy manager who would be fired by his clients after their matches. Wrestlers in this angle would consist of Crusher Broomfield ( also known as Akeem and One Man Gang ) , and Dutch Mantell. Cornette would go on to make his Mid-South Wrestling debut in 1983 and manage the tag team, The Midnight Express. He would also adapt his signature tennis racquet. Cornette said that he got the inspiration for that from a movie. He would have feuds with stars such as Magnum TA before taking The Midnight Express to WCCW in 1984. They were looking for more bookings as they couldn’t get a huge rivalry with the Von Erich family . Therefore , they would leave Dallas, Texas, and head to Charlotte , North Carolina to Jim Crockett Promotions.

While in JCP, Cornette would lead The Midnight Express ( Bobby Eaton and Stan Lane ) , to success as the three time NWA United States Tag Team Champions. Nevertheless, Cornette would be known for the tennis racquet and his extremely loud mouth. He was a Heel manager as The Midnight Express were a Heel Tag Team. They would have to have a police escort making their way to ring and going back to the locker room at house shows as well as to the city limits due to being hated by fans. This was also a precaution to their safety due to worrying about being attacked by fans as well. Cornette would suffer a knee injury at Starrcade ‘ 86 after falling off of a scaffold. Cornette said the stunt went too far due to his fear of heights , also known as Acrophobia. This stunt happened during a match between The Midnight Express and The Road Warriors. Thus, Big Bubba Rogers ( Big Boss Man / Ray Traylor ) , an ally of The Midnight Express, would be the one to catch Cornette instead of Bobby Eaton after he fell. He became a Color Commentator in 1989 , while Jim Ross ( JR ) , would be the play-by-play commentator for JCP’s Saturday Night TV shows. He would also become a Booker for WCW the same year. He would return to WCW in 1993 after leaving in 1990 as a part of a talent trade with Smoky Mountain Wrestling ( SMW). He would manage The Heavenly Bodies ( Stan Lane and Tom Pritchard ) and feud with The Rock N Roll Express ( Ricky Morton & Robert Gibson ). He would start his own promotion, Smoky Mountain Wrestling , in 1991.

With SMW, Cornette would begin a partnership with Vince McMahon and the World Wrestling Federation ( WWF) in 1993. Thus, SMW would have financial trouble and in November 1995, would shut down. Cornette would sell the promotion’s rights and videos to McMahon the same year . He would say that he chose the wrong time to start Smoky Mountain Wrestling due to a recession in the business.

While in the WWF, Jim Cornette would be a booker , color commentator, and a manager. He would be in his most well known role as a manager for being the American Spokesperson for the WWF Champion , Yokozuna, in 1993. He would be a full time employee of the WWF in 1996. He would take on the role of scouting talent and developing them for TV and house shows. Cornette would start his own Heel stable called, ‘ Camp Cornette ’ , which consisted of himself , Owen Hart , Yokozuna , Vader , and The British Bulldog ( Davey Boy Smith ). Cornette would become a full time color commentator in 1997. Therefore , he would leave the company the same year due to having conflicts with Vince Russo and Kevin Dunn. At the height of the Attitude Era, in 1998, he would return with a stable consisting of Barry Windham , The Rock N Roll Express, and Jeff Jarrett. They would be known as the NWA Invasion. He would also manage a new Midnight Express and Dan Severn. He would also provide color commentary the same year . Cornette would also participate in the Gimmick Battle Royal at Wrestlemania 17 in 2001.

Cornette would go on to be the head booker and part owner of Ohio Valley Wrestling ( OVW ) in 1999. OVW was the lead developmental territory for WWE before FCW ( later to be known as NXT.). He would influence the careers of John Cena, Randy Orton , Batista , and Brock Lesnar as they were training there. He did the same for stars from the Attitude Era such as Al Snow, Sunny , D’ Lo Brown , and Kane in SMW. He would be let go from WWE in 2005 after being involved in two separate incidents . One being slapping Anthony Carelli ( WWE Legend and TNA Director of Authority, Santino Marella. He is the father of WWE NXT Wrestler and Liasion , Arianna Grace ). He would also appear in TNA , ROH, and ECW. He would return to OVW in 2010. He would make an appearance in What Culture Pro Wrestling ( WCPW ) in 2016 and 2017. He would make appearances in WWE from 2017 to 2020 and return to TNA in 2017. Cornette would also appear in NWA in 2018 and 2019 before appearing in Major League Wrestling ( MLW ) in 2019. He retired from managing in 2017 and announcing/color commentary in 2019. He would go on to make a numerous appearances on ‘ Dark Side of The Ring ’.

Jim Cornette’s most well known match would be with Paul E.Dangerously ( Paul Heyman ) in a Tuxedo Match in 1989 at the Great American Bash in WCW. He would be defeated by Dangerously.

Jim Cornette is considered one of the greatest managers of all time according to fans, including myself.

My Final Thoughts:

Jim Cornette is a legend of professional wrestling. In my opinion, he deserves to be inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame. To me , he has one of the most storied careers and it amazed me how he paid his dues in the business at a young age. I also admire how he honest he is about wrestling now and on DSOTR. Knowing he is a wrestling historian , I’ve studied him and he is also a reason I started this blog . So, happy birthday, Jim! Hope it’s a good one!

Love You All,

- Kay

[quietwings-fics]

Spin Cycle

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: AnnaDean Additional Tags: Laundry, Domestic, Trans Male Dean Winchester, Trans Anna Milton, Trans Female Character, Established Relationship, Sharing Clothes, Gender Identity, Zine, Zine: Comfortably Queer 2023 (Supernatural) Wordcount: 1,501 Summary:

Anna drops in on Dean during laundry day. They discuss the changing of vessels and of clothes.

Note:

This fic was originally written for 2023's Comfortably Queer Zine, which is available for download here.

Dean’s clothes rolled haphazardly through the dryer’s heat. It was the only one running in the long row of identical machines as Sam’s clothes still soaked nearby. Half-empty had gone to barren as he whittled his hours away in the laundromat. It was when he was dragging out the long sleeves of Sam’s jacket up from the depths of the washing machine that he heard a noise, a soft thunk from the machine beside him, and Dean was straightened up and ready for a fight before he’d had a chance to drop the clothes in his arms. Anna stared at him, at his bundle, and then at his flushing face again.

“Bad timing?” she asked.

“Better than usual,” Dean disagreed. With the imagined threat never existing, he heaved Sam’s clothes over to the dryer beside his. It was two dollars to wash, three to dry, a fair bargain against the other laundromat he’d checked that morning. It was uncommon for their spare time to coincide—given Heaven hunting Anna and ordering him around—and it left each moment they did steal savored.

“So, this is what you do between saving people and hunting things?” She balanced on one of the unused machines, one leg crossed over the other and toes tapping the floor. Dean set Sam’s clothes to dry.

“It’s not that glamorous, I know. Our job doesn’t exactly pay the big bills.” Or the small ones. But they survived. They always had.

“No,” she said, “but... I miss this. I feel untethered.” Dean turned to her. He was cupping her shoulder before he could think better of it, and when she smiled and leaned forward, his hand rose to her cheek. “Thanks.” Anna’s eyes glowed sometimes when the light hit her right, but Dean had loved her human first and he wouldn’t ever forget that. It made him appreciate her more. “I miss doing laundry, and weekly shots, and making the bed, and-” She breathed, and the grief of a lifetime lost exhaled from her lungs. Dean pulled a smile to the corner of his lips for her.

“You don’t miss your shots,” he teased. Hell, he’d been doing his T for a decade, give or take, and injections still put him on edge. She shook her head, but his smile had coaxed her own out of hiding.

“I miss the routine.” He’d take a picture of her smile if he thought it would last longer than she would. “I keep the changes, though. It turns out that one of the only benefits of wearing a body rather than living in it is that your hormones are just as much a part of the costume.” There, Dean wanted to argue. He’d known plenty of angels who only bothered with their vessels as decoration, a necessity for flying down to Earth without getting dirty from the mud. Anna breathed and blinked and laughed with her whole chest. She was not apart from her body; it was her.

“Most angels don’t change at all,” he pointed out.

“I’ve got more practice.” At that, he huffed a laugh. Damn right she did. He remembered his eyes wandering over the mantel at the crime scene left of her childhood home, spying the awkward family photos of her as a child and a young teenager. He had a few of his own he could show her one day. They were probably tucked away in a box at Bobby’s, memories of a little Dean Winchester with his hair too long for comfort and a grin that never changed no matter how the face around it shifted.

“You ever make adjustments? Now that you’ve got your mojo back and all.” Anna considered that.

“I think about it. I could, in a snap.” She frowned. “It doesn’t feel right. I fought for this. Now, it’d be too easy. And then there’s the fact that I don’t want Heaven touching what I worked so hard for.” They’d stolen enough, she didn’t have to say. Dean understood that feeling better than most people ever could.

“I didn’t have any scars when they brought me back,” Dean said, and Anna opened her mouth to respond to that but he had a point he needed to make. “None on my arm from the time I broke it and the bone went through. None of the many, many places I’ve been stabbed or shot in my life. So, you can imagine what I went to check the minute I got ahold of a mirror.” His interruption had earned him an annoyed pout, but as she listened, that fell away as she grasped the purpose of the anecdote.

“Those remain,” Anna said. She lifted a hand and swept her fingers over Dean’s chest, nails knocking against the amulet in her path. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her touch. Sensation had come back to his whole chest over the years, with only a little section between his right nipple and the scar beneath it that remained numb. It was the best work he’d (or whatever the name on his fake card was at the time) ever paid for, never regretted.

“Yeah. Heaven didn’t touch them. I’m still a self-made man.” Her hand drifted back across like she knew exactly where the scars were to trace them. By that point, she might have. She’d seen them often enough. “My point is, screw Heaven. We always knew what was best for us, anyway. If you want to do it, do it. If you don’t, no one’s going to make you. Definitely not me. I think you’re beautiful.” His voice caught in his throat because he didn’t have nearly enough words to tell her how much, but Anna caught his amulet between her fingers and pulled until the cord drew him forward. She kissed him sweetly. He always needed it. Around them, fluorescent lights buzzed and the dryers bumped against each other as they turned over their loads. Dean’s hands found the sides of Anna’s face, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek as he pulled an inch back to catch his breath and kissed her again.

He was able to hear one of the machines slow and stop. He ignored it for another minute, pressing more kisses to her lips and down her jaw. Anna hummed at the scrape of his stubble against her skin, and it brought to mind a moment of domesticity that made him yearn for the kind of world where they weren’t constantly being forced apart: Anna and him sharing a razor the morning before they’d gotten together, trading it off for her to use as he checked the bandages over the wound on her arm she’d made to defend them.

Reluctantly, he had to pull back. Anna let go of the amulet. It slipped from between her fingers as Dean moved over to the dryer, bending down to pop the door open. He could feel the warmth of the clothes inside. He pat his hand over the lump to make sure they were completely dry, and for once, he found he’d gotten lucky enough for a dryer that did the job on the first cycle. He hauled clothes out and heard Anna drop off of her perch behind him. Soon, the various assorted shirts and jeans he was taking out were being folded up by her. He paused a moment, looking up at her as she rolled a pair of socks together, and felt so overcome with affection that he had to kiss her again.

One day, all of this had to end, and if he didn’t believe he’d have peace then, he’d still do everything in his power to give her a chance to live the life she’d chosen and that the world kept trying to take away from her. Maybe she’d even let him come to her doorstep once in a while and stay a night. As he broke the kiss, he looked at her clothes, the same ones she’d worn since she had become an angel again. Angels didn’t take the time to change outfits.

“You want me to wash your jacket?” he offered. Anna tilted her head, confused. “I’ll give you one to wear while you’re waiting for it.”

“Right now? You’d waste five bucks to wash just my jacket?” She was shrugging it off anyway. Dean took it from her, and he rooted around in his own clothes for one to give back. His was too big on her, but he hoped it kept her warm.

“I’ll throw it in next time I’m doing laundry. You’ll just have to come back for it.” Anna wraps his jacket around herself. Dean knows he’ll see her again. She was too shrewd for Heaven and too strong for any demon to pin her down. He’d just like a little reminder she’d show, that was all.

“I’ll make sure to drop by,” Anna promised.

They folded clothes in comfortable silence until they had to say goodbye.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[wastheheart]

💍

Put a Ring on It

@tapalslegacy (thank you!)

Their son had just celebrated his first birthday. There was lots of cake and photos and laughter; little fists destroyed a perfectly iced Elephant, but it was worth the joyful babbling and the grin adorning both Esme and Cal's faces.

With lots of mess came the responsibility of cleaning up, and the included the boy who, despite a day of fun and sugar, fought against heavy eyelids.

Esme gave him his nightly bath, changing him into fresh pyjamas and placing him in his crib with the white noise machine playing to help him remain asleep.

She joined Cal back in the downstairs living room, baby monitor faithfully propped on the mantel above the fire. Thankfully, he was still very much fast asleep.

That grin hadn't left Cal's face. He promised to start tidying up as she put the little one to bed and he kept his promise. Despite the balloons and banners that still lingered, you wouldn't have realised wrapping paper was previously decorating the furniture— helped by the dogs, of course.

He was playing Esme's favourite tune (Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls) as he scrubbed things that couldn't be put in the dishwasher, only pausing when her hands found his shoulders and she pressed a kiss against the shell of his ear.

The dishes could wait until tomorrow. Drying his hands, Cal next offered her a party hat adorned with the number one and placed his own on his head, pointing out the tripod which held his phone.

Esme said something about looking a mess, but he brushed it off, singing along with the lyrics of the song playing as he twirled Esme in front of a recording phone. Soon enough she was laughing too hard to hear the lyrics properly, only stopping when she got too dizzy, pressing her face against Cal's chest as they slowly swayed side to side.

He turned Esme one final time, their movements lazy as they unwinded for the evening. As she came around to face him again, she was met with the most delicate of rings. A small, understated diamond nestled amongst white gold.

He waited until she came to a stop before kneeling, his eyes never leaving her own. Everything faded except that one question which, despite the softness with which it was asked, seemed burning hot to receive. She hadn't even realised her tears until he gently reached up to wipe them away, his gaze patient but expectant.

Esme manages a whispered yes, her lips trembling as she smiles, repeating herself so he understands that she is sure. "Yes, yes yes, always yes." She couldn't have believed this is where she would be eighteen months ago. "I love you."

[austinswhitewolf]

Little Red Rodeo

A/N: So this one got away from me. I didn't plan on it being that long but yeah, this happened. This song inspired this fully and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it up.

Paring: Austin Butler x You

You sighed softly as you touched the note on the table one last time. A tear slipped past your lashes as you turned and walked out the door. Stopping at the driver side door to your car you turn and give one last wistful look at the house you had spent the last 3 years of your life in. Turning, you ducked into the car and pulled out of the drive and headed to the highway. 

You and Austin had been together for 4 years, the last three living together. You loved him with all your soul. Both of you had talked about getting married and where you wanted to go with your lives. At first both of you were wanting the same things, to settle down, get married and have a kid or two. But as the last year and a half passed, Austin's interests had seemed to slowly change. He stopped talking about the future and more often he talked about his group of friends and their bikes they all worked on. 

A month or so ago you had brought up marriage and kids once again only to have him say you would talk about it soon. In that time you dropped small hints here and there, pictures from magazines you left out. You decided to give him that month and if nothing you knew something needed to happen. So here you were, your car packed full of your clothing, personal mementos and a few photos. The sleek ‘67 Chevy that you and Austin had restored when you were first together. You pulled into the bar your sister worked at and walked in. When she saw you she walked over with a smile. “Hey girl! How are you?” It only took her a moment to know something was bothering you. So she motioned to the other girl behind the bar that she was going to take a smoke break. Walking outside and both lighting a cigarette, you start to tell her what is going on and your decision. How hard it was, broken hearted with tears falling that you were leaving and headed out of town. Needing to get away from all the memories for a while to know what you wanted to do with your life. “So are you going to head to Aunt Gi-Gi’s place?” “Yeah, I already called her and asked if I could stay there for a while. Told her I wanted to take some time by the beach and relax. Recharge in a way.” I responded softly with a nod, flicking the ashes to the ground. “Well he’s an idiot, not seeing what he has. He’ll find out very quickly sweetie. Just take the time and call me every day.” Your sister said before putting her cigarette out and then giving you a huge hug. I nodded and said I would let her know when I got there. 

Climbing back into the car and waving to your sister as you pulled out of the parking lot, you turned and took a deep breath before heading to the highway. Only three hours until you could be laying on the beach with a drink and numbing the pain. 

“What a dumb blind typical male.” Your sister shook her head and turned back to the front door of the bar. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Austin pulled into the drive of your shared house and stopped in his usual spot where he kept his bike. As he swung his long leg over the seat, Austin wondered where you were, knowing you didn’t have work today, and you didn’t mention anything about going out with any of your girlfriends. He checked his phone for a missed text from you as he walked into the house, dropping the keys into the bowl by the door, nothing from you. As he moved into the house he glanced around and saw a few of your things missing. The blanket your grandma had made you before she passed from cancer was not on the couch where it always lived, a few framed photos you had put on the mantel were gone, and a few other things. As he continued to look around he noticed a piece of paper on the table with a key on it. Walking over he recognized your beautiful scrawl. His eyes roved over the paper as he began to read.

~Austin These 4 years with you have been the best of my life. But the last year and a half something has changed, you seem to not be wanting the same things anymore. It seems like you want to have some more time before you settle down. So I am leaving and letting you have that time. I still want to settle down and have a family but I am not going to force you to want that. I hope you find what you want with your life. 

Austin felt like he had just been sucker punched in the gut. He had to read the note two or three more times to comprehend what it was actually saying. His hands went up and threaded through his hair as he quickly looked around. This couldn’t be happening, how had this happened? The thoughts were whipping through his head as he dropped onto the kitchen chair. Was that truly what had happened? Yeah his buddies were all poking fun at him for playing house with you and giving him shit for wanting to settle down. ‘You have so much time ahead of you man! Why settle down, there are so many women out there.’

Finally his mind started to gain traction and he realized he needed to go after you. He shot up out of the chair so fast it crashed to the floor by the wall, and the note went flying as his hand pushed up off the table. “Fuck!”

Austin snatched his keys back up and flew out the door back to his bike. It roared to life and he whipped the bike around, leaving a black trail. Her sister would know where she was going, so that is where he headed. The bike barely had time to stop before he was off and racing into the bar. Eyes scanning through the crowded building, he saw her making her way back to the bar with a tray of empty glasses.

Long legs ate up the distance between him and your sister quickly, mumbling sorry and excuse me as he brushed past bar goers. Austin slid to a stop in front of her at the bar, his hands clapping down slightly as he leaned towards her. Sammi looked up at the noise and the moment her eyes connected with his, she narrowed her gaze. “What do you want, Butler?” Her voice extremely sharp and cold. She wouldn’t admit out loud how much she actually enjoyed seeing the slightest of flinches coming from him. “You gotta tell me where she’s going Sammi.” Before he could get anymore out of his mouth she snapped at him. “Why should I tell you? She’s been hurt enough.” “Please Sammi, I fucked up. I know that. She’s the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m desperate!” One of his hands flew up to start tugging on his hair, his voice cracked while blue eyes blazed with distress. She watched him for a moment, eyes scanning his face very closely. The normally confident, bright and happy man was replaced with a shattered wreck of the Austin she knew. A sigh left her lips as she set her hands on the bar top and leaned just the slightest towards him. “You didn’t hear this from me, but do you remember Aunt GiGi’s place we all went to for a month?” 

It only took a second before his eyes lit up and he nodded. He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, thanked her loudly as he turned and rushed from the bar. Sammi gave a small laugh, shook her head and turned back to work mumbling ‘Men, can’t live with em, can’t live without em.’

Once again Austin was on the road, racing down the backroads to the highway. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You pulled off about an hour into the drive to get gas and some beer for later. As you were checking out, the clerk noticed your red glossy eyes and glanced out to your vehicle, noticing it was packed with a few boxes and bags.

“Everything okay sweetheart?” The clerk was a slightly older man with a kind face, beard and hair gray and thick. His voice was gentle yet deep, and his eyes kind.

“Yeah, I just need to get away. New start.” You said softly with a small sniff.

“Was it a boy?” His face softened even more. His eyes looked her over to make sure she didn’t have any bruises to indicate any abuse. 

“Yeah, we were together for four years. He helped me restore her” You motioned to the Chevy. “But it turns out he didn’t really want what he said.” You said while fiddling with your keys.

“Honey you remind me of my daughter Sarah, so let me tell ya something. A lot of men, they don’t realize what they have until it’s gone. If he doesn’t then it’s his loss.” You smile softly again and hope that is true. You swipe your card and take your receipt before thanking the man and heading back to your car. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Austin needed gas and wanted cigarettes. Pulling into the gas station right off the highway, he kicked the stand down and climbed off. He rubbed his hands on his pants as he walked inside after filling up. Moving over to the counter, he asked for a pack of smokes. While the man behind the counter was pulling the pack down, he heard two guys behind him talking. It took him a moment to realize what they were talking about. “Yeah, I haven’t seen a ‘67 that nice in years man. You should have seen it, looked almost brand new. The growl of it when the young lady turned the engine over made me miss my old ‘Vette.”

Austin’s head whipped around so fast, he thought he heard his neck crack. Just as he was about to speak up, the man behind the register spoke up. “That poor girl was heartbroken. She reminded me of Sarah.” “Oh yeah, when that guy just disappeared without any reason.” The guy at the slot  machine responded, his head turning to face Austin and the cashier, along with his buddy.

“Yeah, that guy was a piece of work, Bill. Glad he never showed back up or there woulda been trouble.” Dave, the nametag of the cashier read, then turned to Austin. His eyes observing the tall thin male with eyes red rimmed and wet. It only took him a moment to realize that this was who the young girl from earlier was talking about. A quick glance outside seeing a beautifully restored bike sat just heightened his suspicions. “Nice bike man. You work on it yourself?” “Yeah, I restore bikes and old cars.” Austin’s response was automatic, his brain not fully focusing on what the man was asking him. Just as he was about to open his mouth Dave spoke up again. This time only loud enough for the young man in front of him to hear. 

“You restore a ‘67 Impala at all?” Austin turned back to Dave, his face more pale and pasty now. He nodded his head and his hand shot into his pocket to grab his phone. “I’m looking for a woman, this is her. I need to find her, I made a mistake and gotta make it right.” His fingers were shaking slightly as he swiped his phone open to show Dave his background of the two of you standing by the Impala with grease smeared on your faces and clothing. 

Without even really looking at the photo Dave started to laugh, his eyes crinkling and his hands rested on the counter. “Yeah, this sweetheart was in here about an hour ago. She was lookin quite destroyed. Good luck boy.” He spoke with a chuckle as he finished up the transaction and slid the box of cigarettes and receipt over to Austin. Austin barely grabbed the cigarettes before he was racing off. Deep laughter followed him out the door. Kicking the bike to life, he revved it and kept the front brake on to spin the bike around quickly before racing out onto the road again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had gotten to the beach house a half hour ago and headed straight to the beach in the back. The sound of the waves and gulls with the smell of salt helped your muscles loosen up slightly along with the two beers you had already had. The sun was setting, beautiful pinks, reds, oranges and purples flowing together yet you didn’t even seem to notice it. At first you thought that a boat was going by, heading to the marina for the night. The soft rumble was slowly growing louder and it wasn’t long before your eyes shot open. You knew that sound. Your stomach flipped, knotting tightly as you slowly sat up. You crushed the hope down and stood up. Your feet were on autopilot, moving you around the side of the house towards the driveway.

Just as you rounded the corner of the garage, your impala parked inside, you saw a large trail of dust flaring up coming towards you. Within what seemed like moments you saw the wild head of gold hair ripping around the final curve and into the driveway. The bike slid to a stop ten feet from you, Austin barely flicked the kickstand down before flying off the bike towards you. His long fingers were on the sides of your face into your hair and his forehead on yours before you could even think to utter a word. “I’m so sorry my love. So, so sorry. Please…” His voice broke, blue eyes swirling with anguish. 

You didn’t realize you were crying again until his thumbs softly swiped under your eyes. 

“Don’t leave me, please. I can’t do this without you. I’m yours, you have my heart in the palm of your hand. I’m so in love with you that it hurts. I do want this, I want you for life. I want little babies with your eyes and smile….. You are my everything… Be mine, only mine…..” The last was said in a whisper against your lips. 

This felt like a dream, you had to have fallen asleep on the beach. It was his last set of words that broke you from your thoughts. A sob broke free as your arms flew up and around his neck. This was the man you fell in love with, who helped you with the car. The Austin that you spent hours reading to in bed, fingers in his hair. 

“Yes Austin. Yes.” You managed to get out before pressing your lips to his.

[zweiter-blog-me]

Excerpt from Babel - R.F. Kuang & Shelley

Just two excerpts and some thoughts while reading, in which I will attempt to not bring up too much linguistics (the beast in the closet).

This section from Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence by R.F. Kuang is the main character's reaction to his friend group's receiving of their Daguerreotype, a kind of early photo.

The next day, they retrieved their finished portrait from a clerk in the lobby. "Please," said Victoria. "That looks nothing like us at all." But Letty was delighted; she insisted they go shopping for a frame. "I'll hang it over my mantel, what do you think?" "I'd rather you throw that away,' said Ramy. "it's unnerving." "It is not," said Letty. She seemed bewitched as she observed the print, as if she'd seen actual magic. "It's us. Frozen in time, captured in a moment we'll never get back as long as we live. It's wonderful." Robin, too, thought the photograph looked strange, though he did not say so aloud. All of their expressions were artificial, masks of faint discomfort. The camera had distorted and flattened the spirit that bound them, and the invisible warmth and camaraderie between them appeared now like a stilted, forced closeness. Photography, he thought, was also a kind of translation, and they had all come out the poorer for it. Violets cast into crucibles, indeed.

Now Shelley's section – A Defence of Poetry, 1821 – that which Kuang is referencing.

The vanity of translation; it were as wise to cast a violet into a crucible that you might discover the formal principle of its colour and odour, as seek to transfuse from one language to another the creations of a poet. The plant must spring again from its seed, or it will bear no flower.

My section - This post, 2024

Firstly, this is an excellent abstraction of Shelley's work on the difficulty/fragility/violence of translation. This can be so easily extrapolated to all art in such an interesting way. Is any artist not translating something in some way? Is not any end goal the fulfillment of an idea, that which will be made incarnate? For Kuang, it's the photograph, taking away the life from living. But when characters live in a world with paintings, have they not already seen this process before? I think it important to bring up as well that not all the characters have the same reaction. Letty does like the photo, for her, the magic (or soul) has not been lost or distorted. This too, of course, applies to the work of written translations. And her appreciation is not any more or less valid than the others' lack of it. Hell, at the end of the day, none of them are the original artist. They're what's being translated into the new medium; they're the very violets going into the crucible. What's more the spark of this post for me is how it thrusts my very interests and their innate problems upon me. It's like Shelley, and now Kuang, have sat me down and surprised me with an intervention for a vice. In a given week, I look at Latin, Old English, and Old Norse from the old, but also Yiddish, Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, and Icelandic from the new. The old are more salient here, but the new now embittered against me all the same. I write them out, separated with a line in between where none had been. I begin to carve out a meaning for myself, haphazardly consulting glosses and grammars. I begin to transcribe them anew in my own tongue, with my own view of beauty in mind. I cannot understand how their authors or original audience would have perceived them, I can only attempt to place them into the patterns I enjoy. Too can I not understand fully their context from before. I can study what we know of the cultures, the wars, the religions, but I'll never truly get it. I don't really know what the point to this is, but simply, my beloved, inherited violets have a singe from my crucible on them. For this I suppose I must answer to someone. It will probably just be when my own violets meet their fates.

There you go, just a ramble from a sleep-deprived student