#i have some other irish pieces

[f1-disaster-bi]

You have a claddagh ring? Can we see? They’re so beautiful

I do!

My Nan bought it for me before I went back to Prague in March. She actually wanted to give me hers, which was given to her by Granny and Grandad (my great-grand parents) when she was 21 but I didn't want to take it from her and I prefer silver to gold, so she tricked me into taking her to her jeweler to get the chain she bought for my sister's 18th birthday fixed and had them bring out the claddagg rings (another irish thing is T bar necklaces? It's not a tradition but kinda is in our family? Nan and Granda gave Mam a T bar for her 18th, Mam bought me a silver one for Christmas, and Nan gave my sister her gold T bar and bought her a chain for it for her 18th)

For anyone that doesn't know what a Claddagh ring is, it's a traditional piece of irish jewellery that is a heart with a crown held by two hands. The heart represents love, the crown is loyalty and the hands are friendship.

There are particular ways to wear it depending on your relationship status. You wear it on the right hand with the heart and crown facing towards the body if you're single and open to love. If you're in a relationship, the crown and heart point away from the body. If your are engaged you wear it on your left hand with the crown and heart pointing towards the body, and for marriage the crown and heart face away from the body.

This is my ring

And this is how I wear it currently

[kaiijo]

ok. bllk and jealousy rate. how jealous can they get over their gf and what do they do to cope lmao

HOW JEALOUS IS HE? — [BLUE LOCK]

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kunigami rensuke, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, oliver aiku content: gn! reader (request says gf but reader is gender neutral) notes: some of these are lowkey toxic, minor spoilers for kunigami’s character arc, nagi is taller than reader

most jealous: bachira, rin, reo 

bachira meguru ✶

bachira has many, many insecurities. growing up isolated and without many friends, he is more possessive of those he’s close to, which obviously includes you. he just doesn’t want to lose you, which manifests itself in jealousy over anyone he perceives as a threat to your relationship

bachira gets really clingy when he’s jealous. he thinks that inserting himself into the situation, sometimes literally wedging himself between you and the other person. he usually chooses to drape himself over you, nuzzling into your neck and speaking low enough that only you hear, trying his best to divert your attention. third-wheeling is pretty uncomfortable for the other person, especially with the smiling sneer bachira’s shooting at them, so they make a quick irish exit 

itoshi rin ✶

an egoist to his very core, rin can get very jealous. while he’s very sure of himself in nearly every other part of his life, he knows that he is not an ideal partner a lot of the time, though he’ll never admit it. he’s not the most expressive or the most patient, and he’s sure that there are better partners for you out there. 

when rin’s jealous, it’s a silent but deadly thing. like when he’s locked in on the ball in a game, his focus you and his ‘competitor’ is unwavering. he stalks over to stand behind you, his chest bumping right up against your back, and he snarls, “what the hell do you want, you mediocrity?” usually the other person backs off after seeing rin’s bone-chilling glare but if they’re bold enough to answer back, rin bares his teeth and is poised to strike. it’s probably best if you diffuse the situation quickly before it gets uglier  

mikage reo ✶

we already know how jealous reo was over nagi so it’s safe to say that he’s definitely very jealous. having been bored with the world and other people for so long, he’s thrilled when you two get together. it makes his very protective of you and he wants to be one of the most, if not the most, special person in your life. 

reo can go a couple of ways when he feels jealous over someone else but it think his primary response is to tear down the person methodically. he tilts his head a little, looks the person up and down, and notes everything about their appearance — hair, skin, clothes (including brand and cost) and criticizes every little thing. it’s a strategic move in his opinion, using observational skills and knowledge he had given his upbringing to pick apart the other person. he also might make some underhanded comment that includes that he has a black card 

less jealous: isagi, kunigami, sae 

isagi yoichi ✶

he definitely gets jealous from time to time but he doesn’t feel the need to act on it a lot. he’s pretty mature and for the most part level-headed (plus his ability to piece together future events helps him keep his cool a lot). this doesn’t mean that he isn’t jealous 

when isagi is jealous, he’s sulky. he won’t take immediate action and watch from afar, arms crossed and a little pouty. he tries to look as dejected and as ‘wet-cat pathetic’ as possible to make you feel bad and come over to comfort him. when you inevitably do, looping your arm through his and kissing his cheek, he can’t help but smirk at the other person like a cat who go the cream 

kunigami rensuke ✶

i debated where to put kunigami since there are ‘two sides’ to him — pre- and post-wildcard. pre-wild card kunigami is definitely a lot less bothered; he trusts you 100% and is 100% confident and secure in your relationship and himself. post-wild card kunigami is less chill and more forceful. he’s not a hero anymore but even as he plays a more ‘villainous’ role in soccer, he won’t cross that line in your relationship. he’s still very secure in you and himself, but he’s more protective of your relationship. definitely a ‘i trust you/us but it’s other people i’m worried about’ kind of guy

when pre-wild card kunigami got jealous, he won’t act in the moment and will talk to you about it afterwards, in a private setting. open lines of communication were important to him and working out problems like this. post-wildcard kunigami is all stormy looks and intimidation. like rin, he also stands behind you but in less actively aggressive way and more just to be threatening. it’s 95% effective and the 5% of times it doesn’t work, kunigami is not above muscling the other person away 

itoshi sae ✶

i thought about putting sae in the ‘most jealous’ section but i just think that he is someone whose jealousy simmer just beneath his apathetic surface. he sees most other people as beneath him and believes that they are not worthy of speaking to you, let alone hitting on you, but because he’s sees them as so beneath him, he can’t be bothered half the time to do anything since they’re simply not worth it. he gets the most jealous when it’s people who he can potentially view as equals, like other professional athletes 

when he’s jealous, sae literally just pretends they don’t exist, only talking to you. if the other person tries to interject, he sends them a sideways glare — the only acknowledgment of their existence — and then turns away to continue whatever conversation, suggesting that you both get away from the other person as quickly as possible. if ignoring the person doesn’t work, sae doesn’t shy away from spewing vitriol at the other person

least jealous: nagi, oliver, michael

nagi seishiro ✶

simply put, being jealous is a hassle to nagi. it makes him too hot and too annoyed for him to want to feel it so he suppresses the feeling a lot. nagi’s height is already intimidating enough for most people so they don’t approach you when they see you two together but that isn’t a deterrent to everyone

when nagi gets jealous, he does one of two things: just gives a thousand-yard stare that freaks people out or he gets whiny and clingy. his stare is eerie and silent, and the lightness of his eyes doesn’t help it. he towers over you like some cryptid companion. when he gets whiny and clingy, nagi tugs at your sleeve and asks drily, “can we go yet? why are you still talking to them?”

oliver aiku ✶

sigh… oliver is undoubtedly someone who thinks and knows he’s the shit. with so many women and men alike fawning over everything about him, his ego is through the roof. he has very little worry about you leaving him for someone else. honestly, he finds it amusing most of the time when someone attempt to draw you away from him, and let’s it play out a lot for his own entertainment. of course, he’ll intervene if it’s making you uncomfortable but he also believes you can handle yourself 

when oliver gets jealous, he acts as casual as possible. he’s friendly towards the other person and but it’s not hard to uncover that it’s all fake, whether it’s from the glint in his eye or the way his smile is stiff and forced. common tells when he gets jealous is that he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek or he clenches his teeth and inhales softly but sharply.  he employs the good old tactic of calling the other person the wrong name and making all kind of underhanded comments that slowly chip at their nerves. (“haruya? haruki? oh! you’re haruto! right, right, you know, they’ve never mentioned you before! crazy, huh?”) 

michael kaiser ✶

kaiser in german literally means ‘emperor,’ and it’s no secret that kaiser views himself as one. similar to sae, he see himself as so above others that he’s not even bothered by other people hitting on you. it displeases him greatly, sure, but these cockroaches will never be able to steal you from him so why should an emperor deal with the plebians? the only time that ever happens is when a peasant is particularly forceful and then, kaiser intervenes

when he gets jealous, kaiser puts on a show. if there’s one thing about him, he’s a bit of a drama queen. he will absolutely posture and puff out his chest at the offending person, looking down his nose arrogantly and smirking. he makes a big display of wrapping himself around you, gripping firmly at your hips and saying, “liebling, you’re very charitable to entertain this insect, but it’s time to end this ruse.”

[jessicalprice]

culture isn’t modular

I did a thread (actually several) on Twitter a few years ago about Christianity’s attempts to paint itself as modular, and I’ve been seeing them referenced here in the cultural christianity Discourse, and a few people have DMed me asking me to post it here, so here’s a rehash of several of those threads:

A big part of why Christian atheists have trouble seeing how culturally Christian they still are is that Christianity advertises itself as being modular, which is not how belief systems have worked for most of human history. 

A selling point of Christianity has always been the idea that it's plug-and-play: you don't have to stop being Irish or Korean or Nigerian to be Christian, you don't have to learn a new language, you keep your culture. 

And you’re just also Christian.

(You can see, then, why so many Christian atheists struggle with the idea that they’re still Christian--to them, Christianity is this modular belief in God and Jesus and a few other tenets, and everything else is... everything else. Which is, not to get ahead of myself, very compatible with some tacit white supremacy: the “everything else” is goes unexamined for its cultural specificity. It’s just Normal. Default. Neutral.)

Evangelicals in particular love to contrast this to Islam, to the idea that you have to learn Arabic and adopt elements of Arab culture to be Muslim, which helps fuel the image of Islam as a Foreign Ideology that's taking over the West.

The rest of us don’t have that particular jack

Meanwhile, Christians position Christianity as a modular component of your life. Keep your culture, your traditions, your language and just swap out your Other Religion Module for a Christianity Module.

The end game is, in theory, a rainbow of diverse people and cultures that are all one big happy family in Christ. We're going to come back to how Christianity isn't actually modular, but for the moment, let's talk about it as if it had succeeded in that design goal. 

Even if Christianity were successfully modular, if it were something that you could just plug in to the Belief System Receptor in a culture and leave the rest of it undisturbed, the problem is most cultures don't have a modular Belief System Receptor. Spirituality has, for the entirety of human history, not been something that's modular. It's deeply interwoven with the rest of culture and society. You can't just pull it out and plug something else in and have the culture remain stable.

(And to be clear, even using the term “spirituality” here is a sop to Christianity. What cultures have are worldviews that deal with humanity’s place in the universe/reality; people’s relationships to other people; the idea of individual, societal, or human purpose; how the culture defines membership; etc. These may or may not deal with the supernatural or “spiritual.”)

And so OF COURSE attempting to pull out a culture's indigenous belief system and replace it with Christianity has almost always had destructive effects on that culture.

Not only is Christianity not representative of "religion" full stop, it's actually arguably *anomalous* in its attempt to be modular (and thus universal to all cultures) rather than inextricable from culture.

Now, of course, it hasn't actually succeeded in that--the US is a thoroughly Christian culture--but it does lead to the idea that one can somehow parse out which pieces of culture are "religious" versus which are "secular". That framing is antithetical to most cultures. E.g. you can't separate the development of a lot of cultural practices around what people eat and how they get it from elements of their worldview that Christians would probably label "religious." But that entire *framing* of religious vs. secular is a Christian one.

Is Passover a religious holiday or a secular one? The answer isn't one or the other, or neither, or both. It's that the framing of this question is wrong.

And Christianity isn’t a plugin, however much it wants to be

Moreover, Christianity isn't actually culture-neutral or modular. 

It's easy for this to get obscured by seeing Christianity as a tool of particular cultures' colonialism (e.g. the British using Christianity to spread British culture) or of whiteness in general, and not seeing how Christianity itself is colonial. This helps protect the idea that “true” Christianity is good and innocent, and if priests or missionaries are converting people at swordpoint or claiming land for European powers or destroying indigenous cultures, that must be a misuse of Christianity, a “fake” or “corrupted” Christianity.

Never mind that for every other culture, that culture is what its members do. Christianity, uniquely, must be judged on what it says its ideals are, not what it actually is. 

Mistaking the engine for the exhaust

But it’s not just an otherwise innocent tool of colonialism: it’s a driver of it. 

At the end of the day, it’s really hard to construct a version of the Great Commission that isn’t inherently colonial. The end-goal of a world in which everyone is Christian is a world without non-Christian cultures. (As is the end goal of a world in which everyone is atheist by Christian definitions.)

Yet we focus on the way Christianity came with British or Spanish culture when they colonized a place--the churches are here because the Spaniards who conquered this area were Catholic--and miss how Christianity actually has its own cultural tropes that it brings with it. It's more subtle, of course, when Christianity didn't come in explicitly as the result of military conquest.

Or put another way, those cultures didn't just shape the Christianity they brought to places they colonized--they were shaped by it. How much of the commonality between European cultures is because of Christianity?

It’s not all a competition

A lot of Christians (cultural and practicing), if you push them, will eventually paint you a picture of a very Hobbesian world in which all religions, red in tooth and claw, are trying to take over the world. It's the "natural order" to attempt to eliminate all cultures but your own. 

If you point out to them that belief and worldview are deeply personal, and proselytizing is objectifying, because you're basically telling the person you're proselytizing to that who they are is wrong, you often get some version of "that's how everyone is, though."

Like we all go through life seeing other humans as incomplete and fundamentally flawed and the only way to "fix" them is to get them to believe what we believe. And, like, that is not how everyone relates to others?

But it's definitely how both practicing Christians and Christian antitheists relate to others. If, for Christians, your lack of Jesus is a fundamental flaw in you that needs to be fixed, for New Atheists, your “religion” (that is, your non-Christian culture) is a fundamental flaw in you that needs to be fixed. Neither Christians nor New Atheists are able to relate to anyone else as fine as they are. It's all a Hobbesian zero-sum game. It's all a game of conversion with only win and loss conditions. You are, essentially, only an NPC worth points.

The idea of being any other way is not only wrong, but impossible to them. If you claim to exist in any other way, you are either deluded or lying.

So, we get Christian atheists claiming that if you identify as Jewish, you can’t really be an atheist. Or sometimes they’ll make an exception for someone who’s “only ethnically Jewish.” If the only way you relate to your Jewishness is as ancestry, then you can be an atheist. Otherwise, you’re lying. 

Or, if you’re not lying, you’re deluded. You just don’t understand that there’s no need for you to keep any dietary practices or continue to engage in any form of ritual or celebrate any of those “religious” Jewish holidays, and by golly, this here “ex”-Christian atheist is here to separate out for you which parts of your culture are “religious” and which ones are “secular.”

Religious/secular is a Christian distinction

A lot of atheists from Christian backgrounds (whether or not they were raised explicitly Christian) have trouble seeing how Christian they are because they've accepted the Christian idea that “religion” is modular. (If we define “religion” the way Christians (whether practicing or cultural) define it, Christianity might be the only religion that actually exists. Maybe Islam?)

When people from non-Christian cultures talk about the hegemonically Christian and white supremacist nature of a lot of atheism, it reflects how outside of Christianity, spirituality/worldview isn't something you can just pull out of a culture.

Christian atheists tend to see the cultural practices of non-Christians as "religious" and think that they should give them up (talk to Jewish atheists who keep kosher about Christian atheist reactions to that). But because Christianity positions itself as modular, people from Christian backgrounds tend not to see how Christian the culture they imagine as "neutral" or "normal" actually is. In their minds, you just pull out the Christianity module and are left with a neutral, secular society.

So, if people from non-Christian backgrounds would just give up their superstitions, they'd look the same as Christian atheists. 

Your secularism is specifically post-Christian

Of course, that culture with the Christianity module pulled out ISN'T neutral. So the idea that that's what "secular society" should look like ends up following the same pattern as Christian colonialism throughout history: the promise that you can keep your culture and just plug in a different belief system (or, purportedly, a lack of a belief system), which has always, always been a lie. The secular, "enlightened" life that most Christian atheists envision is one that's still built on white, western Christianity, and the idea that people should conform to it is still attempting to homogenize society to a white Christian ideal. 

For people from cultures that don't see spirituality as modular, this is pretty obvious. It's obvious to a lot of people from non-white Christian cultures that have syncretized Christianity in a way that doesn't truck with the modularity illusion. 

I also think, even though they're not conceptualizing it in these terms, that it's actually obvious to a lot of evangelicals. (The difference being that white evangelical Christianity enthusiastically embraces white supremacy, so they see the destruction of non-Christian culture as good.) But I think it's invisible to a lot of mainline non-evangelical Christians, and it's definitely invisible to a lot of people who leave Christianity.

And that inability to see culture outside a Christian framing means that American secularism is still shaped like Christianity. It's basically the same text with a few sentences deleted and some terms replaced.

Which, again, is by design. The idea that you can deconvert to (Christian) atheism and not have to change much besides your opinions about God is the mirror of how easy it’s supposed to be to convert to Christianity.

Human societies don’t follow evolutionary biology

The Victorian Christian framing underlying current Western ideas of enlightened secularism, that religious practice (and human culture in general) is subject to the same sort of unilateral, simple evolution toward a superior state to which they, at the time, largely reduced biological evolution, is deeply white supremacist.

It posits religious evolution as a constantly self-refining process from "primitive" animism and polytheism to monotheism to white European/American Christianity. For Christians, that's the height of human culture. For ex-Christians, the next step is Christian-derived secularism.

Maybe you’ve seen this comic?

The thing is, animism isn’t more “primitive” than polytheism, and polytheism isn’t more “primitive” than monotheism. Older doesn’t mean less advanced/sophisticated/complex. Hinduism isn’t more “primitive” than Judaism just because it’s polytheistic and Judaism is monotheistic. 

Human cultures continue to change and adapt. (Arguably, older religions are more sophisticated than newer ones because they’ve had a lot more time to refine their practices and ideologies instead of having to define them.) Also, not all cultures are part of the same family tree. Christianity and Islam may be derived from Judaism, but Judaism and Hinduism have no real relationship to one another. 

But in this worldview, Christianity is "normal" religion, which is still more primitive than enlightened secularism, but more advanced than all those other primitive, superstitious, irrational beliefs.

Just like Christians, when Christian atheists do try to make room for cultures that aren't white and European-derived, the tacit demand is "okay, but you have to separate out the parts of your culture that the Christian sacred-secular divide would deem 'religious.'"

Either way, people from non-Christian cultures, if they’re to be equals, are supposed to get with the program and assimilate.

You’re not qualified to be a universal arbiter of what culture is good

Christian atheists usually want everyone to unplug that Religion module!

So, for example, you have ex-Christian atheists who are down with pluralism trying to get ex-Christian atheists who aren't to leave Jews alone by pointing out that you can be atheist and Jewish.

But some of us aren’t atheist. (I’m agnostic by Christian standards.) And the idea that Jews shouldn’t be targets for harassment because they can be atheists and therefore possibly have some common sense is still demanding that people from other cultures conform to one culture’s standard of what being “rational” is.  

Which, like, is kind of galling when y’all don’t even understand what “belief in G-d” means to Jews, and people from a culture that took until the 1800s to figure out that washing their hands was good are setting themselves up as the Universal Arbiters of Rationality.

(BTW, most of this also holds true for non-white Christianity, too. I guarantee you most white Christian atheists don’t have a good sense of what role church plays in the lives of Black communities, so maybe shut up about it.)

In any case, reducing Christianity--a massive, ambient phenomenon inextricable from Western culture--to the specific manifestation of Christian practice that you grew up with is, frankly, absurd. 

And you can’t be any help in deconstructing hegemony when you refuse to perceive it and understand that it isn’t something you can take off like a garment, and you probably won’t ever recognize and uproot all the ways in which it affects you, especially when you are continuing to live within it. 

What hegemony doesn’t want you to know

One of the ways hegemony sustains and perpetuates itself is by reinforcing the idea not so much that other ways of being and knowing are evil (although that’s usually a stage in an ideology becoming hegemonic), but that they’re impossible. That they don’t actually exist. 

See, again, the idea that anyone claiming to live differently is either lying or deluded.

There are few clearer examples of how pervasive Christian hegemony is than Christian atheists being certain every religion works like Christianity. Hegemonic Christianity wants you to think that all cultures work like Christianity because it wants their belief systems to be modular so you can just ...swap them. And it wants to pretend that culture/worldview is a free market where it can just outcompete other cultures.

But that’s... not how anything works. 

And the truth of the matter is that white nationalist Christians shoot at synagogues and Sikh temples and mosques because those other ways of being can’t be allowed to exist. 

They don’t shoot at atheist conventions because there’s room in hegemonic Christianity for Christian atheists precisely because Christian atheists are still culturally Christian. Their atheism is Christian-shaped.

They may not like you. They’re definitely going to try to convert you. They may not want you to be able to hold public office or teach their kids.

But the only challenge you’re providing is that of The Existence of Disbelief. And that’s fine. That makes you a really safe Other to have around. You can See The Light and not have to change much.

What you’re not doing is providing an example of a whole other way of being and knowing that (often) predates Christianity and is completely separate from it and has managed to survive it and continue to live and thrive (there’s a reason Christians like to speak of Jews and Judaism in the past tense, and it’s similar to the reason white people like to speak of indigenous peoples of the Americas in the past tense). 

That’s not a criticism--it’s fine to just... be post-Christian. There’s not actually anything wrong with being culturally Christian. The problems come in when you start denying that it’s a thing, or insisting that you, unique among humankind, are above Having A Culture.

But it does mean that you don’t pose the same sort of threat to Christianity that other cultures do, and hence, less violence. 

[elodieunderglass]

Hi Elodie! I was wondering if I might ask about your process for choosing names for the daemons in His Delicious Materials? I have some daemon characters knocking about in the back of my brain, but I’ve never been able to settle on names for them. I know that in His Dark Materials, some daemons have more common names, and some have more fantastical, but beyond that I don’t know much about daemon naming conventions, and yours sound so delightful to hear and say.

Oh jeez sure! I unfortunately love making sweeping decisions and then forcing myself to live up to them.

(In reference to His Delicious Materials fanfic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56658973/chapters/144024799 )

The only set HDM daemon naming constraints I can recall are that they’re set by the daemon’s parents and thus relate to the parental names and desires; this Stelmaria, Greek, “Star of the sea,” has a son Pantalaimon “multitude of blessings.” But other daemons, such as the nurse who was severed, have names like “Nicholas.” Thus they can be what feels right, I think, with reference to internal family-feeling. people from Lyra’s Oxford are clearly going for Greek names - even the character who’s a “kitchen boy” has the lofty Salcilia, which seems to connect to “salt” - but the witches in HDM give their daemons Finnish names.

I think where possible it can’t be the language you’re reading the story in - I.e. if you’re reading in English you shouldn’t have a daemon named Trustworthy - and be three syllables. It would be ideal if it secretly revealed a piece of character, but could also be an aspiration. Will’s “kirjava” (multicoloured) is a description.

I had a few constraints. I set them early on. I think constraints make things easier but that’s possibly a personality flaw.

One thing that doesn’t happen much in daemon AUs is that I had different species of human to consider. This made me decide that they had to have relatively distinctive naming cultures.

- Bee was the one who sprang into my head without invitation and instantly suggested “wouldn’t it be great if it lengthened into Bibelot, which is French for trinket?” And I was like, such a great idea bestie! Let’s write a novel about you! Maybe two! So if that happens to you, let that happen.

- this led to all half-foots having a daemon naming convention where they had to have three-syllable French names with the first syllable shortening to their everyday name and their long name being reserved for intimates; the short name should shorten to a word preferably in English. At first this was fine and made things easier because the only other half-foot daemons instantly presented themselves as Chatelaine and Chiendegarde. If you have a good convention/restriction it can make things easier at first and makes you sound confident.

- I felt that Greek-inspired names for daemons in OG HDM felt very cool in that setting. Laios is a Greek name IRL (Falin is Irish I think but ignore that) so I mentally fixed the convention of the siblings having Greek names.

- then I used Google Translate to find a word that meant gentle or feathery and found Elafros, which alludes to both, and also having the highly desirable -os ending which matches Laios and obviously creates a cohesive, family feel

- everyone reading this is probably like, no the hell it doesn’t

- I liked the three syllables and sense of parental expectation so I researched it a bit more and settled on it.

- I wanted Laios’s daemon to start with a P, three syllables, Greek and match Falin in some way. I scrolled through the P entries on a 1990’s website with a list of “dead words”. Palinode was chosen for being obviously a cohesive and familial resonance with Falin (rhyming first syllable.) it also shortens to PAL and has connotations of sounding like paladin. She’s Falin’s paladin.

- everyone reading this is probably like, no the hell it doesn’t

- Palinode’s a terrible name actually. Oh well moving on

- I wanted Marcille’s daemon to have a Greek name too, this choice feeling synonymous with a certain expectation of class/education as well as species to me. I wanted it to start with a P because at that point I had read more of the manga and she had a pet bird named Pipi.

- the pyx- beginning is super cute to me because I originally pictured Marcille as being a pixie.

- while scrolling through the list of dead words looking for Greek inspired names starting with py- I saw Pyxis and was instantly in love. It was listed as meaning “small pot for medicine and cosmetics” but upon more research I realised it was a constellation and apparently also means “compass,” all of which felt absolutely perfect.

- Pyxis is an absolutely crap moral compass though

- I wanted Anne to be named Anne but that needed to be longer, so I tried putting the word “shield” into Google Translate and cycling through languages until Welsh gave me Tarian. It means shield and shortens to Anne! It’s also a very pretty word.

- This then set the convention of dwarves getting Welsh names, and at that point I was happier for them to have proper names, so Aneurin (a Welsh men’s name meaning honorable, and shortening to Nye) and Gethin could just be chosen from a list.

- in conclusion it’s a lot of meaning+vibes!

- thank you for this question!

[houseofripley]

Hotel Hell - Part Two

Rhea Ripley x Fem!Reader

Part One Pinterest

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+, Fighting, Shoving, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, MAKEUP SEX

WORD COUNT: 3,812

A/N: omg i am sorry this took me years to finish, life has been busy but it should calm down soon. i got such a good request the other day and i haven't gotten it off my mind so i will start that tmrw if i have time. also i proofread this at 2am so please ignore any mistakes lol

“The Brutalization Chamber? You want to know what The Brutalization Chamber is?” The Irish man laughed out, his eyebrows raising once you turned your gaze towards him. 

An expression of curiosity displayed on your face as you repeated the name of the supposed ‘chamber’. It was obvious to the man that you wanted to know more.

The man began making his way down the stairs, “No offense sweetheart…but I don’t really think this is the place for a girl li-” He tried to speak before being cut off.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“I don’t really care what you think sir, I want you to show me what's down there.” You chirped out, following the male down the flight of stairs, your hand hovering over your aching ribs.

“Well shit, if you insist,” The guy chuckled out, “Feisty, she’ll like you.” He muttered under his breath as he opened the door. 

She’ll like you…was he talking about the same ‘she’ you had spent your night with? The same woman who just got done unleashing pure cruelty onto you? The same woman who disappeared into this exact building moments ago?

“Name’s Finn by the way,” He mentioned, “It’s just us, the big boss is probably around here somewhere as well.” Finn spoke as you scanned the room looking for ‘the big boss’.

Grimy was the only way to portray the room. Rope lights scattered across the ceiling, some were dim while others flickered. There were freezing concrete walls with cracks littered all over. A red neon sign displaying the letters ‘TBC’. A blood stained ring sat taking up a quarter of the room. Various pieces of gym equipment and punching bags were compressed into a room off to the side. 

“So…just a gym?” You questioned the man, there was no sign of Rhea.

“Nah, it’s a little more than just a gym love…think of it as a fight club. A fight club with a fuck ton of money involved.” Finn stated leading into a room the size of a walk-in closet, the room seemingly being a pathetic excuse of a nurses office. 

You leaned against the door frame while Finn babbled on as he started unpacking his bag, “People come to us in desperate need for money. They’re entered into our roster, put in the ring and bet on. If they win their match they get fifty percent of all bets placed. Bunch of sick wealthy men love wasting their fortune on this shit.”

“Don’t you think this is just a tad bit illegal?” You chuckled, sending a small wave of pain to your ribs.

“Eh I don’t worry about that too often,” Finn shrugged, digging around his duffle. “Rhea’s not too worried about the legalities when there's this much money involved, she can pay her way out of damn near anything.”

Rhea.

Despite your pain you perked up at the mention of Rhea’s name although you stayed silent.

“Rhea would like you, you’re quiet but there's just something about you, like there’s a fire inside you.” Finn mentioned, pointing at you. “I would introduce you to her but earlier this afternoon one of her top guys lost her like seven thousand. She stormed off to god knows where. Another one of her main guys has a big match in about half an hour. Going up against some new kid we’ve never seen so I’m sure she’s busy worrying her ass off.”

You heard a scoff echo from the main room as footsteps approached. “Jesus fucking christ Finn! Do you ever shut your goddamn mouth?” You heard Rhea sarcastically laugh trying to cover her anger.

You slowly turned to face Rhea, examining her tensed jaw and narrowed eyes. Reality had finally washed over you. The weight of Rhea’s actions flooded into your brain. You couldn’t figure out if you felt more betrayal or anger in the moment.

“Ah! Rhea mate!” Finn exclaimed, trying to divert from Rhea’s critiques. “I was just telling this young lady how much you’d like her…I never caught her name though.” 

Your face turned to the ground as you tried to mutter out your name. “We’ve met.” Rhea butted in, her voice was fully flat-devoid of any sign of emotion. That’s when the regret hit you. 

You shouldn't have come here.

“I should leave…it seems you guys have a busy night.” You muttered quietly. Rhea took a firm grasp on your forearm, “That can wait, let’s go have a chat.” Rhea said as her head motioned towards what you assumed to be her office.

“No, I-I can come back another time, I really don’t want to be a bother.” You barely managed to stutter out while Rhea’s middle and pointer finger of her opposite hand guided your chin up, forcing you to look at her. “I said let’s go have a chat.” Rhea commanded, her grip on your arm tightening. 

You reluctantly followed the woman as she dragged you in the direction of her office. You knew you were in for it big time.

“You are a fucking insane bitch! What could have possibly made you think it was okay to fucking show up to this place?!” Rhea lashed out at you the moment the latches of her door clicked together. She dropped your arm before shoving you towards the other side of the room. You had been lucky enough to catch your balance as you were just inches away from barreling into the concrete walls.

“I just wanted to learn more! I wanted to figure you out Rhea! Can you blame me for wanting to figure out why you’re so angry and cruel every time I see you?” You said loudly, your voice filled with hurt.

“That doesn't give you the goddamn right to follow me to where I work! You don’t fucking get it, these people I work with are dangerous and I don’t want you getting caught up in this bullshit!” Rhea retorted out as her breaths began picking up speed.

“What makes you think I’m so incompetent that I’m incapable of being around danger?! You put me in danger nearly every fucking time I see you! ” Your hands flew around as you yelled at the woman, tears accumulating in your eyes. 

Rhea began inching towards you, a look of irritation covering her face. “I don’t fucking put you in danger!”

“Yes you fucking do! You have no idea how many bruises you’ve left me with. The other month you choked me till I passed out, yet you didn’t stop fucking me to check if I was okay! For fucks sake Rhea, an hour ago you left me bleeding and collapsed to the floor!!” All hell had broken loose between the two of you as your tears started escaping from you.

“You told me you could take it! I don’t get why you’re bitching and moaning all of the sudden.” Rhea continued arguing.

Your fist crashed down onto Rhea’s nearby desk, “I can take it rough, but you can’t keep disappearing after being borderline torturous! You’re so damn immature!!” Your screaming matched showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“I’m immature? You’re the one that followed me to my job and is throwing a tantrum right now!” Rhea’s voice thundered around the room. 

“You don’t get it Rhea! I’m a fucking person and you dont give a shit about me! Why don’t you fucking care?!” You yelled through broken sobs as you started unleashing your sadness and anger onto Rhea, pushing and beating on her chest. 

Rhea made no attempt to stop you. She made no moves, just allowing you to inflict your pain onto her. 

Once your hands had dropped to your sides in exhaustion and your breaths became heavier as you tried calming yourself down Rhea quietly mumbled, “I do care…”

“But you don’t…” You looked up at her with wide eyes, lifting your shirt. You exposed your aching torso displaying your cut up skin, dried blood pooled around your laceration and the letters of Rhea’s name carved into your skin. “Someone who cares doesn't do this and run away.” You quietly said, your voice strained from the screaming match.

The regret in her eyes was apparent as she darted her eyes away from you. The realization she had gone too far had hit her hard, feeling as if she was being crashed into by an eighteen-wheeler. 

Her vulnerability was short lived, Rhea quickly repressed her display of emotion, replacing it with her regular cold and emotionless stare. She had to put on her tough guy attitude. It was her only safety blanket. Emotions are for the weak, Rhea could never be weak.

“You get worse every time I see you, something has to change Rhea…” You breathed out, trying to articulate your speech as you lowered your shirt back down. “If you can’t fix this behavior I’m done.” 

“You know you don’t mean that.” Rhea sighed as she ran her hand through her black hair. She didn’t want to lose you but she could never admit that. “I need to think about…everything. Just give me a some t-” 

Rhea was cut off by a deep voice from outside the door. “Ten minutes till the bell Rhea.” Rhea rolled her eyes and made her way to the door, “Just give me some fucking time Damian! And go get a roll of gauze from Finn. Quickly.” Rhea demanded after opening the door just a sliver. 

You clenched your jaw as you sensed Rhea’s levels of anger were once again rising. The last thing you wanted was to end up back at square one with her. You couldn’t handle another argument with her. Not tonight at least. 

The pair of you stood in silence as you waited for the man to return. Once he had arrived he opened the door, handing Rhea the roll of fabric. His eyes curiously examining you through the crack in the door. 

“I’ll be out in a minute…” Rhea aggressively muttered before closing the door. She mumbled your name under her breath before walking to her desk.

 “You’re lucky Finn showed up early, only God knows what could have happened to you if one of the other guys showed up before him.” Rhea grunted as she unlocked a drawer and began rummaging through the mess inside. 

What is it about her?

“Why such a dark line of work? What made you choose this of all things?” You questioned, you were terrified to set her off but on the other hand you wanted to push for answers from her. It was the only way to get your foot into the door of her life.

Rhea stumbled her way towards you avoiding eye contact, a tube of antibacterial gel in her hand as she shrugged. “Not something you choose. You’re born into it and can’t escape it, you just have to accept it and make the best out of it.” She mumbled while she lifted your shirt up. 

Rhea applied a small glob of the antibacterial gel to her finger while she lowered herself to her knees, becoming face to face with your shredded skin. The woman began dabbing the gel onto your skin causing  you to let out a small hiss from the pain.

Once she finished applying all of the gel she wiped the residue from her fingers onto her pant leg and grabbed the roll of gauze. Rhea cleared her throat before speaking up, “Just stay in here for a while, I can take you home after this match.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home by myself, Rhea.” You stated, watching Rhea carefully wrap the gauze around your waist.

“I’m walking you home and that’s final.” Rhea stood her ground, “Seriously though, just stay in here. I’ll be back.”

You weren’t planning on fighting about this with her, deciding to keep your mouth shut you let her take the win. “Fine, whatever.” You gave in as Rhea tied a knot in the gauze to hold it in place. 

“Shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes.” Was all Rhea had said as she stood up. Nothing else left her lips as she exited the room. 

No apology?

You groaned as you sat down in Rhea’s large chair. You blankly stared at the wall for several minutes before your mind started to wander. Exploring anything that popped into your head. Places, things, people, Rhea. 

If you were being honest with yourself you were doubting the woman's ability to change her ways. You assumed she would most likely be this way her whole life, although you prayed she had it in herself to change. She had the potential to be great if she would put her pride aside.

It wasn't long until the cheers of the crowd on the opposite side of the door had started drowning out your thoughts. 

You wanted to catch a glimpse of the madness. You stood up from the large chair, your feet scuffing the ground as you strolled to the door

You cracked the door open, taking a peek of the ring surrounded by a flock of rowdy men that were yelling. The large man you made eye contact with earlier was in the ring brutalizing a much smaller guy who couldn’t even be older than twenty-five. He was putting on one hell of a fight but it was clear he stood no chance.

Rhea was the only woman there, she was stood right against the ring watching intensely. She had caught your image in the corner of her eyes. Her face turned in your direction, she tilted her head as if she was asking you what the hell you were doing.

You mouthed the word sorry to her before quickly closing the door. 

Fifteen excruciatingly boring minutes had passed, the cheers had dispersed into muffled conversations. Rhea had finally arrived back in her office. She seemed content which you enjoyed. 

“You ready to go?” Rhea asked, you answered with a simple nod.

As the two of you made your way out of the building Rhea exchanged goodbyes with some of the strange men.

The entire walk was silent, the both of you reflecting on the weird night you had been through together. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it was almost peaceful. Having Rhea in your presence when she was somewhat calm was pleasant. You wanted to hold onto this peacefulness for the rest of your life.

It took you by surprise when Rhea insisted on taking you directly to your door instead of just dropping you off in the front of the large building and ditching. 

“You didn’t need to take me all the way up here.” You quietly mumbled as you unlocked the door to your apartment. “Lot’s of bad people around this time of night.” Rhea muttered as your door swung open. 

You turned around to face the woman, her eyes peering over your head, scanning the entry of your apartment. “There’s bad people around all times of the day. I’m used to it.” You said quietly, her eyes returning to you.

An awkward silence filled the air as the both of you gazed upon each other. Rhea began rubbing her neck, “Uh…I should go. I’m gonna go.” She feebly stated before turning away from you, quickly walking down the hall. She had stormed off before you could even speak up.

Still no apology?

—

Multiple days had passed. Rhea had made no contact yet. You spent a concerning amount of time just staring at Rhea’s contact in your phone, debating if you should press the call button. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

She’d call if she cared enough.

It felt as if life had paused, your days seemed empty. The busy streets of New York City felt devoid of any livelihood. The live music that took place at work sounded muffled. The flavor of your favorite foods had been stripped away. Once colorful flowers sold down at the street market now sat dull.

Days just painfully repeated. 

Tonight you had the night off, your only plans were to stare out the window of your bedroom and pray for a text from Rhea. 

You sat criss-cross at the edge of your bed twiddling your thumbs, your mind seemingly empty as you stared into the windows of the skyscraper across the street when the sound of a knock echoed down your short hall.

Groaning in annoyance as you got up you began making your way to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as your feet shuffled below you. 

You weren't sure who you were expecting to be in the hall but it completely caught you by surprise when you swung the door open to see the dark haired woman waiting for you.

Without a word Rhea launched herself onto your lips, the force causing you to be pushed back a few inches.

Jesus Christ.

This felt like more than just a kiss, it had an intense amount of passion intertwined into it. Rhea’s hands gripped onto your waist as you backed into the apartment, her foot kicking the door behind her closed.

She had never kissed you in this way before. Before tonight you had only received measly pecks while the two of you had sex. It was never emotional.

Rhea slowly pulled away from your lips, both of your breaths were heavy as she finally spoke, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Finally.

“God, I’ve treated you like shit and I have been such a dick. It’s been the only thing on my mind. You don’t deserve that, It’s not okay.” Rhea began rambling as you stared into each other's eyes. “I get it if you never want to see me again but please just give me a chance, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll get my temperament under control, I’ll go to therapy, whatever you say I will do it.”

“Rhea-” You whispered, trying to calm her down but she continued her rant. 

“I want to know you, more than just your body. I wanna know everything, The good, the bad, the boring…I wanna know what pisses you off and what makes you cry. I don’t know why I kept you a stranger for so long and I’m sorry for that.”

You led Rhea into your small living room as you listened to her rambling. You took a seat in your chaiser lounge and ushered her to sit in front of you as her speech continued on. “I don’t know why I ran away…I think it's cause I didn't want to hurt you. But I did hurt you, so badly. I don’t want to run away anymore, I had no right to ever hurt you the way I did, just for me to leave you alone right after. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done and I’ll never forgive myself for it. It’s just that I-”

“Rhea!” You slightly raised your voice causing Rhea to finally close her mouth. You leaned closer to her, placing a quick and gentle kiss on her lips. “You’re okay, don’t worry.” You comforted the woman, softly chuckling.

“I didn’t interrupt your night did I?” Rhea asked, slightly nervous as she scootched up closer to you. You shook your head no as a smile creeped on your face.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to end up in a heated makeout session, your hands roaming over one another's clothing. Rhea groaned your name against your lips before pulling back just a few centimeters. 

“Please let me show you how sorry I am.” She practically pleaded, her eyes full of desperation, “Yes please” you quietly giggled, your eyes adoring the woman's face. The second Rhea heard the word yes echo from your mouth her lips went straight for your neck, causing a whimper to escape from you. 

Rhea took her time as she kissed upon your neck, carefully leaving soft love bites every so often, marking the skin a flushed pink shade. Her lips only leaving your skin as she pulled off your sweater before she began peckering kisses against your collarbones.

Her hands crept behind your back, unclasping your bra and pulling it from your chest. Your fingers grazed upon Rhea’s tense shoulders as she left a path of kisses down your torso.

As Rhea’s face reached the base of your stomach, her eyes fixated on your face as if she was asking for your blessing. You gave her a nod before lifting your hips into the air, allowing her to slide your sweatpants off your legs. 

 “Rhea, please,” You whined out while Rhea’s fingers toyed with the seam of your panties. Rhea grinned to herself as she slowly shed the final layer of clothing off your body. 

The woman wasted no time connecting her mouth to your heat, causing you to let out a breathy moan. “So fucking beautiful…” Rhea praised against your skin.

Truthfully, her tongue felt like heaven as it worked its way around your wetness. Rhea didn't want to rush you. This wasn't for her, she just wanted to make sure you knew she had the ability in her to change for the better.

Your breaths picked up their pace as Rhea’s hand inched its way closer to your core. Her ring and middle finger traced a circle around the perimeter of your entrance before slowly being pushed into you.

“Shit,” You whined out, your back arching as both Rhea’s tongue and digits worked their magic on you. Although you enjoyed roughhousing with the woman, you undoubtedly appreciated the amount of care Rhea was putting into you.

You were a whimpering mess under Rhea’s touch, and she loved every small sound that escaped from your mouth.

“More! Please, I can take it!” You begged for more of her. Rhea obliged, sliding her pointer finger into your tightness causing you to roll your eyes back as her fingers filled your insides.

“That’s it baby,” Rhea preached quietly when your hips began to rock against her fingers, your moans filling the room. “Such a good girl for me.” She added on before her tongue got back to sailing over your clit, her fingers picking up their pace.

Your legs tightened around Rhea’s head as your orgasm quickly approached. “C’mon sweet girl, let go.” Rhea’s encouraging words were muffled, your walls clenched around her curling fingers. 

“Fuck Rhea!” You squealed out as the knot that filled your stomach released onto Rhea’s fingers. Your hips twitched into the air as the fingers inside of you helped you ride out your climax. 

Rhea was grinning ear-to-ear as she slowly pulled her fingers out of your hole. She groaned in pleasure, licking her fingers clean. 

She soon brought her face to meet yours, her plumped lips giving your jaw a kiss before whispering in your ear.

“How’s that for an apology, hm?”

Chapter Taglist: @babybatlover @whiteleoqueen @luvvleah @lovingperson1

[girlgenius1111]

can she make you feel like i do?

Jealous Leila O as promised!!!! smut. this is just smut.

italics are spanish

18+. rougher sex. use of a safe word. aftercare though :) lmk if you like it!

You knew your girlfriend to be a mildly possessive person, but she'd never been weird about your friends. Something about Katie must have really pissed her off for her to act the way she did.

You and Leila saw each other a fair amount, with her playing for city and you playing for arsenal. It was your first season at the club, and she knew how nervous you'd been. Moving from Liga F to England was a big change, and she'd played a huge role in helping you adjust.

So had Katie, to be fair. Arsenal was truly like a family, and Katie had taken you under her wing, made sure you fit in and felt safe and comfortable.

The night before you were set to play man city, you'd gone out with some of the girls and Leila. You were smushed in between her and Katie, and you found yourself paying more attention to Katie than you were to Leila. It wasn't intentional; Leila was less comfortable with english than you were, especially around people she'd just met, so she was quieter than normal.

You hadn't realized it had bothered her until you felt her hand grab yours under the table, holding tightly. You broke off your conversation with the Irish woman, and turned to your girlfriend.

"Are you okay, baby?" you asked quietly, sensing the anxiety radiating off of the older woman.

"They speak really fast." She said quietly. You looked at her closer, and saw that she wasn't just slightly anxious, but a little angry. You knew there was more she wasn't telling you, but you didn't want to push in front of your friends. Instead, you smiled at her sympathetically, squeezing her hand.

"We can go soon, okay?" You promised, and she nodded, not letting go of your hand. For the rest of the meal, you made more of a effort to bring her into the conversations, and she seemed to get a little more comfortable. You didn't fully understand what she was so upset about until you arrived back to your apartment, where she was staying while she was in town.

"What's up with you and Mccabe," she asked quietly, once you'd climbed into bed and turned the lights off. You shifted in her arms to face her, realizing what the problem was. It was dark, so you couldn't really make out her expression, but you could tell her jaw was clenched, and she wasn't looking at you.

"Is that what you were so upset about?" You questioned. She nodded her head jerkily. You weren't used to this; Leila was a very secure person, and you'd never really seen her this upset before over something so trivial. You placed a hand on her cheek, tilting her head to look at you. "Katie is just a friend, my love. She's been really helpful since I got here, really looked out for me. And she's with Caitlin. Besides, why would I want her when I have you?" You said, rubbing your thumb lightly across her cheek.

She looked relieved, and like she was blushing from your last comment, as she buried her head in your hair.

"Okay. I'm sorry, I trust you, I just got nervous." She pressed a light kiss to your neck, and you settled back against her, thinking the issue was resolved.

-----

The thing was, there were two Leila's. Sweet and kind Leila, who brought you flowers and liked nothing more than to have you lay directly on top of her while watching TV. There was also football Leila, aggressive Leila, who showed her opponents no mercy. Both of these sides of her melded beautifully together to create someone who sometimes would slowly, achingly take you to pieces, and other times, would fuck you until you could barely breathe.

It had been a bit since you and Leila had seen each other, and although you didn't have sex the night before the game, it was unspoken that you would be going directly back to your apartment once the game was over. You pushed these thoughts out of your head, though, focusing on the task at hand.

For the next 90 minutes, Leila was not your girlfriend, but your opponent, and you needed to play accordingly. You both managed it well, getting through the first half with no incidents. You were halfway through the second half when things started to escalate.

Alanna Kennedy had tackled you late, leaving you sprawled on the grass. You were fine, the air had just been knocked out of you, so you took a second to regain your breath. Katie appeared at your side, ever protective.

"You alright there mate?" She asked shooting a glare at Alanna as she the Australian patted you on the shoulder, walking by.

"Good. Just need a sec." You said, rather breathlessly. Katie nodded, remaining at your side until you were ready to stand up. You took her outstretched hand and got to your feet. You only saw Leila once you'd stood up. You'd completely missed how she'd begun to come over to you and help you up, before Katie beat her there. You'd missed how she watched with a furrowed brow as you talked quietly with Katie, as she helped you up.

You caught her eye, where she was standing with her arms crossed halfway across the pitch. You mistook her jealously for worry, and sent her a thumbs up. Her face didn't change as the game resumed.

You didn't realize Leila was upset, again, until a few minutes later. She'd gone completely for Katie's legs, her own feet nowhere even near the ball. Katie clutched her ankle, swearing loudly, as you ran over.

"Leila!" You scolded, almost forgetting where you were for a second. You bent down, resting a hand on Katie's back, and Leila scoffed at you. You looked back up at her, shocked that she was behaving this way during a game. She turned to walk away, ignoring the yellow card from the ref. You helped Katie to her feet, and she grumbled after the retreating form of your girlfriend.

"Some girl you got there, y/n." Katie remarked.

"She gets jealous." You said shortly, wanting to put your focus back on the game. You managed to do so, none of the three of you getting into anymore tousles.

The game ended in a draw, and as you waited outside the visitors locker room for Leila, you couldn't help but be a little annoyed with her. But if you were a little annoyed, Leila was fuming. She didn't know what it was about Katie McCabe around you that made her so upset, but she couldn't help it. And then, instead of understanding why she was upset, you yelled at her on the pitch, and helped Katie up. Look, Leila knew she was being ridiculous. She didn't really care.

This was evident when she stomped out of the locker room, grabbing your hand in hers and tugging you wordlessly to the car. You followed after her, a little shocked at the turn of events, but you weren't going to say no.

The car ride home was tense, with Leila not speaking a word to you. It was evident that she was upset, and honestly, so were you. You weren't sure what kind of mad Leila was gonna come out, though. Angry Leila who wouldn't speak to you, except to say goodnight, or angry Leila who had plans to rail you into next week the moment you stepped into your apartment.

You got your answer, though, when you shut the door to you apartment, and Leila was suddenly behind you, breathing down your neck, arms wrapped possessively around your waist.

"Strip and get on the bed." She breathed into your ear. You wanted to stay mad at her, but it had been so long since she'd had her way with you, that you simply nodded, and followed her instructions.

You lay on the bed, naked, waiting for your girlfriend to come into the room. She took her time, and by the time you heard her footsteps padding into the room, you were wet at the thought of all the things your girlfriend was about to do to you. She walked in slowly, taking in the sight of you. She didn't say anything, just walked to stand right by your body, trailing a finger across the bruise blooming on your thigh, from the hit you took during the game.

For a second, you saw concern wash over Leila's face, and it remained when she looked up at you.

"You tell me if you need to stop?" She questioned, voice softer than before.

"Yes," you replied, trying to keep your own voice even as Leila's intense gaze met your own. As soon as the words left your mouth, Leila was on top of you, pressing her lips to yours in a searing kiss, tongue immediately bypassing your lips and jutting into your mouth. You gasped in surprise, but she didn't let up, pressing you down against the mattress, hard. You tried to bring a hand up, and tug her tight ponytail out, but she caught your hand, and shoved it back against the mattress.

"No touching," she hissed, pulling back to speak for only a second, before diving back against you. You tried to keep up, but the feeling of her holding your hands down to the mattress, the way her hips pressed hard against yours, had you gasping for air in between kisses, unable to get enough in through your nose. She kissed you senselessly for a few more minutes, her tongue darting in and out of your mouth.

Leila pulled back, then, and stood next to the bed, quickly taking her own clothes off. She looked up at you as she did, watching your face staring at her with a hunger in your eyes. The defender climbed back on the bed, pushing you down with a hand against your chest, as she lifted herself to hover over your face.

"Make me come," she told you, and you whimpered in response, hooking your arms around her thighs to pull her down. Your tongue flicked out to meet her core, and you go right to work, delighted to find her as wet as you were sure you were. Despite the cold act she was putting on, she wanted you just as much as you wanted her.

You dragged your tongue through her center, circling her clit with it before dipping at back down, pushing into her entrance. She let out little sounds above you, pressing down harder on your face. You repeated the pattern a few times, before focusing on the swollen nub. You took it into your mouth, sucking lightly, before flicking your tongue over it, and Leila moaned loudly, her body jerking at the stimulation.

"Fingers," she instructed, and you didn't waste any time, unlacing your arm from her thigh, and bring it up to tease her dripping cunt with your finger. You knew better than to tease for too long though, and pushed in, pressing along her front wall as you did. You felt her body shift on top of you, but your eyes were closed, so you didn't know what she was doing until you felt her fingers rubbing harsh circles around your clit. You gasped against her, but kept your motions going.

Soon, one finger became two, and you were pumping in and out fast, working her up with your tongue on her as well. Her motions on you were distracting; she'd barely touched you until now, and the sudden stimulation was almost overwhelming. She pressed hard on you, and you tried to hold your legs still as they tensed and twitched.

Thinking that if you got her to come, she'd let you, you added a third finger, curling them just right against her, rapidly flicking your tongue over her clit. It didn't take much longer until she was coming on your face, leaving quite a mess behind. As she did, though, her fingers withdrew from you, leaving you pressing your thighs together.

She grinded down against your fast as the aftershocks rolled through her, before rolling off of you, and climbing down your body. Before you knew what was happening, and at an impressively fast pace for someone who had just come, she was shoving her face against you, her tongue working in and out of your whole.

"You're dripping. Who is it for, hm? Me? Or her?" she asked against you, the vibrations of her voice sending a wave a pleasure through you. She sounded angry, furious even. You didn't respond, to overcome with the sensation of finally, finally, having her mouth on you. You startled back into the present, though, when she lightly slapped your thigh, prompting a response.

"You, baby, only you"

"Hmm", she replied, bring a hand up to pinch hard at one of your nipples. Your upper body jerked, the pain of it barely being overtaken by the pleasure. She kept moving her mouth against you, tongue lapping at the abundant wetness. Leila's motions were so fast, so perfect, and you had missed her so much. You were nearing the edge, almost humiliatingly fast.

"Close," you managed to gasp out, hands gripping tightly at the comforter. As soon as you spoke, she was pulling away, pressing her hands onto your thighs, leaving you completely without friction.

"No, baby. Leila, please," you whined, eyes opening to look up at her. She was looking down at you with a teasing smile on her face.

"You don't get to come. Not until I say so," Leila told you, pressing her fingers hard into your legs. Leila didn't often edge you, preferring to make you come until you couldn't move, but when she had, it had taken... a long time until she gave in. And this time, you felt even more desperate for her, for the release you knew she could give you. She waited for your breathing to slow, looking down at you almost condescendingly.

This time, she moved back against you achingly slowly, running her fingers along your thighs, skipping over where you needed her. You did your best to hold you body still, once again shutting your eyes. She pressed 2 fingers against you, pushing in. You moaned at the stretch, not used to having her inside of you.

"Open your eyes," she told you, and you blinked them open, your eyes meeting her dark ones. She didn't say anything else, just staring at you as she slowly pumped her fingers in and out.

"Leila," you murmured, not really sure why you were speaking, but so overcome with need for her in that moment, you had to say something.

"I know, you missed me huh? This pussy is dripping for me." she replied, voice slightly mocking. You nodded pathetically, squirming against the bed, hoping your agreement would make her change her mind about your punishment. No such luck, though, as a few minutes later, when your moans increased in volume, and her fingers were sliding in and out rapidly, she pulled out again. You cried out this time, unable to form words as your legs shook beneath her.

You'd normally be able to last longer than this without getting to the point of begging, but you'd missed her touch so much.

"Please, baby I'll do anything, please just let me come," you asked shakily. Leila smirked down at you, keeping her hands pressed against your thighs once again.

"You need me that bad, love?" she questioned, and you nodded frantically. "Tell me again. Tell me how much you need me, and only me."

"Fuck baby, I need you, only you, please, you're the only one who can make me feel this good," you cried, blinking up at her pleadingly. She hummed, looking down at you appraisingly. She let go of your thighs, and you didn't dare move them, as she reached up and tightened her ponytail. You watched her arms flex as she did so, and had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop open.

Her body on full display in front of you, muscles rippling as she worked you to the brink, was almost as stimulating as her touch.

"You beg so nicely for me. One more, then you can come. And once you start, you aren't stopping." she promised and you sighed in relief, not really processing the second part of her sentence. Your face quickly became one of confusion though, as she stepped away from the bed, instead of lowering herself back to your core.

Leila walked to the bedside table, yanking the drawer open and pulling out the harness and dildo. She put it on quickly, walking back over to you. She pulled you by your legs until they were hanging off the side of the bed, and she could easily slide into you from her where she was standing. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching her expectantly. She reached a hand up to your face, cupping it under your chin.

"Spit," she told you, and you did. You knew she was doing it more for the display of power, to remind you that you'd really do anything she asked, than because she needed the lubrication. Regardless, she stroked the fake cock a few times, coating it in your spit, before pressing the blunt head up against you.

Leila didn't waste anytime, pressing in and bottoming out almost instantly.

"Jesus," you choked out. She fucked you hard, and you did your best to keep watching to take in the image of her. She was holding your legs for leverage, veiny hands on full display. Her abs rippled with every thrust, and her pupils were blown as she looked down at her cock disappearing into you.

"That's right, baby, taking it so well," you knew she wasn't mad at you anymore then, the words for praise increasing the feeling of heat in your lower abdomen. She pushed you right to the edge this time, until you were seriously worried you would finish before she could pull out. She did, though, and you let out a sob, overcome with desperation. You felt a tear run down your cheek, and you lay back, throwing your arms over your face.

"So good for me. Waiting like a good girl," Leila told you, gently rubbing her thumbs in soothing circles over the skin of your legs. "Flip over for me," she instructed, and you rushed to comply, resting on your stomach. Her hands pulled your waist, until you ass was up into the air. She smacked your ass once, grabbing it aggressively , and you whined.

"Alright, I'll fuck you. Come whenever you need to," she said, and you sighed in relief, the side of your face pressed against the mattress. Leila climbed onto the bed, slotting herself in behind you, pushing in slowly this time. Her thrusts remained slow, and you whimpered with need as she failed to speed up right away.

When she did speed up, it was immediate, and her pace was unrelenting. Her hands pulled your hips back to meet her every thrust, and the room was filled with your gasps for air, and the sound of her hips meeting yours. She pushed a hand on your back, making you arch more, and suddenly she was hitting your spot with every thrust. You came almost immediately, crying her name out loudly. She didn't slow, and your first orgasm bled into the second one, until you weren't sure where the first one ended and the second one began.

You had the comforter in a white-knuckled grip, as Leila continued. her breaths were coming faster and faster, and you knew the feeling of the strap pressing against her was getting her closer and closer.

"S-so good, baby, fuck," you stuttered, voice half muffled from where your face pressed into the bed. At your words, Leila shifted, bringing a foot to rest on the bed, and moving one of her hands around your front, to rub at your clit. You saw stars. Her pace somehow increased and she was fucking you even harder, your hips trying to press back into her.

"Come again for me," she told you, and you did, feeling tears spill out of your eyes. As the pleasure from your third orgasm faded, you felt the overwhelming feeling of overstimulation as she rubbed hard circled against your swollen clit, fucking into you as fast as ever. She pressed you right over the edge into your fourth orgasm.

"Leila, my god," you cried out, this one seeming to last longer. Your legs were shaking, and you could barely keep your ass in the air. Leila wasn't showing any signs of stopping though, and you knew she wouldn't unless you said something. The sensations were too much, and you knew if she made you come again, you'd pass out.

"Red, Leila, fuck," you whimpered, reaching a hand back to try to reinforce your message. Leila stilled her movements immediately, bring her hand away from your core to rub your back gently.

"Alright, baby, okay. Can I pull out?" She asked, and you whined, nodding into the bed. You felt her pull out, and you winced at the sensation. She gently rolled you onto your back, before her touch was gone. You knew she was just taking the harness off, but you couldn't help how needy you were, reaching a hand out, needing her touch you again, much differently than you needed it before. Your whole body was trembling, and the tears in your eyes were still leaking out. You felt so good, so so good, that it hurt, in the best way possible.

"Lei," you said, forcing your eyes open to look for your girlfriend. She was climbing back onto the bed with a bottle of water extended to you, and you shook your head, reaching out for her free hand instead.

"I'm here, I've got you," she said, putting the water down and pulling you into her arms. You leaned into her, resting your head in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply.

"Okay?" She asked quietly, her hands rubbing softly at your back. You nodded against her, trying to find words.

"So good, Lei." you replied, sounding so fucked out that Leila chuckled lightly. She pulled back after a moment, and you groaned your complaint.

"Drink some water for me, please," she instructed, and you complied sipping slowly at the drink that she held up to your lips. Your whole body was still unsteady and Leila was practically holding you up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, concerned at your state.

"Promise, just need a bit," you told her, and she nodded, putting the bottle back down. You nestled back into her arms, pressing light kisses to her bare chest.

"Missed you, so much," you murmured.

"I could tell." she remarked, and you groaned.

"You're too good at that," you said, and she chuckled again.

"Won't apologize for it." she joked.

"I'd never ask you too," you responded, before your tone grew more serious. "Perfect for me. Always," you mumbled, aware that it didn't really match up with your previous phrase, but wanting to make sure she knew there was nothing to worry about.

"I know. Sorry I acted like that," she said. Only post sex Leila could apologize that easily. Every other version of her was far too stubborn to give in so fast.

"I love you, more than football. More than anything." You said, and the unspoken words were there; more than Katie McCabe, you idiot.

"I love you even more than the way you scream my name," she replied cheekily, and you smacked her arm halfheartedly.

"Leila Ouahabi!" You scolded, blushing. You both laughed, and you pulled yourself from her embrace, looking up at her tiredly.

"Help me shower?" You asked, knowing that if you tried to stand on your own, your legs would probably give out.

"Of course," she replied. She'd do anything for you.

-----

straight up could not figure out how to end that so sorry if it seems abrupt :) hope you enjoyed!!!!

[reminiscingtonight]

Hoodie ;)

I've already done a blurb for this but I actually loved it so much so I thought why not do another one

Hoodie Blurb II:

It was a fool proof plan.

There's this one particular hoodie of hers that you've taken a liking to. It's one of Leah's original pieces of clothing that she got when she first signed for Arsenal all those years ago. So it's sentimental to her in a way.

So for course you wanted it for yourself.

No matter how many times Leah takes it back, not matter how deep on her side of the dresser she hides the worn-down, ratty looking thing, it somehow always ends up back in your possession.

So Leah rolls with it.

It comes to her as a late-night thought. As she's watching your peaceful form sleeping so soundly next to her Leah knows she wants you to be hers. For good.

You're off having lunch with Steph when she does it. Having just done the laundry, it's one of the rare times you've left the hoodie to Leah's care. So slipping the tiny box into the front pocket, Leah carefully folds the hoodie back up, making sure to take extra care to plop it closer to your half of the drawer when putting it away.

When she grabs a pair of socks the next day, Leah's happy to see the piece of clothing gone.

Now all she has to do is wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

It isn't until the third day has passed and you still haven't said anything about her engagement ring that Leah musters up the courage to say something.

"Babe, have you seen my favorite hoodie?"

"Nope." you pop the 'p,' not even glancing away from the television. But the smile playing on your lips tells Leah you know exactly where it is.

"Well I'm cold. Do you mind finding it for me?"

If anything, you seem to relax into the couch some more, propping your hands up behind your head. "No can do, sweet-cheeks."

Leah narrows her eyes at the pet name. "Muffin-buns, why not?"

At that, you look up, not able to keep a straight face at her choice of words. "'Muffin-buns'?"

"Would you prefer 'honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'?"

It's quiet as you stare at Leah. Leah does nothing but stare right back.

The silence only lasts three seconds before you're both howling, laughing at the ridiculous pet name.

Clutching her stomach, Leah's wiping away her tears when you shove hard at her shoulder.

"'Honey butter biscuit cheesecake pie'? Baby, why?"

Leah muffles her snort into your hairline as you snuggle into her side, scoffing under your breath about how much you hate her. Here Leah only feels her love for you grow. This is the type of afternoons she wants to have for the rest of her life. Wrapped up around you, swapping jokes and laughter. Leah's heart beats for you and only you and she wants you to know it.

Before Leah can bring up her hoodie again however, you beat her to the punch.

And she instantly feels the ice settle in her veins.

"Katie was shivering after practice today so I let her borrow it. She said she'd return it tomorrow though!"

.

You've long passed out on the couch, the tiredness of today's training catching up to you. Slipping away into the guest bedroom, Leah closes the door shut before pulling out her phone.

To her relief, Katie's contact picture lights up the screen before she has a chance to press call herself.

"Katie--" Leah starts... Only to be interrupted by a loud, angered Irish accent.

"Mate! Of all of the places in the world, why would you hide your goddamn ring in your stupid little hoodie?! Caitlin nearly passed out thinking I was going to propose when I pulled it out! And then she cussed me out when I told her it wasn't mine!"

Leah cringes. "In my defense, (Y/N) was not supposed to loan you out the hoodie."

There's a slight pause on the other side of the phone. And then a sharp sigh. "Please don't tell me this was you plan for proposing to (Y/N)."

Leah bites her lip. "Okay, I won't."

"Leah!"

Send me a fic title

[lightless-flame-official]

gerry keay (classic flavor):

skinny. not in a way most people notice off the bat, because he's quite tall and very good at looking big, but leitner hunting burns a lot of calories and he's been chronically underfed for most of his life

eye tattoos on each of his joints, placed there by supernatural means as a protective ward against other powers

his hair always looks like shit for several reasons, including but not limited to:

- he doesn't like to dye it when his mother is around, both because of the vulnerability of the position and because he doesn't like to be Perceived by her while doing anything he actually. ya know. enjoys. this means that it has a lot of time to fade and his roots grow out.

- if she's around too often for a stretch of time, he has to find a local business he hasn't already been banned from and rinse it out in one of their sinks. this leaves it looking understandably patchy and rushed.

- the dye he uses is cheap as hell -- having his own money is an occasional luxury which cannot be taken for granted.

- he just. generally doesn't take care of himself and his hair suffers overall as a result. he doesn't shower often enough and when he does he uses precisely one (1) type of soap. and it's like. if they have irish springs bar soaps in england then it's that and if they don't then it's the closest equivalent.

he isn't actually like. goth. as we would think of it.

black clothes don't show bloodstains and they made him feel safe edgy and dangerous as a teenager.

we're talking thrift store jeans purchased when he was 16 an never replaced. maybe some band tees. boots for marching into a den of hunt avatars.

the leather jacket is also secondhand and while yes he does feel very badass and cool in it it's also a practical piece. good for fighting. especially when the people you're fighting might have claws or want to set you on fire.

sewing needle piercings with visible scarring around them.

he just generally looks. kinda sick all the time? again, not something that usually registers because he's also good at being intimidating but if you're looking for it there's all kinds of evidence of chronic sleep deprivation and malnutrition. he looks unhealthy, concerning.

gerry keay (tmagp):

goth. like, real goth. like buying from thrift stores still but more often and having fun with it now.

we're talking fishnets. we're talking eyeliner. we're talking black lipstick. we're talking absurd and impractical jewelry. we're talking dabbles in lacy skirts and definitely owns a corset. and yes he still wears a leather jacket but exclusively because it feels cool and badass. he's goth babey!

no longer skinny. precise body type is whatever your heart tells you is true but three square meals agree with him and he's gained a very noticeable amount of weight.

the hair dye is still not professional, his roots grow in occasionally and it's still a bit patchy, because he's still doing it at home, but also. he's doing it at home. it's fun, and he has fun with it. the dye is better quality. gertrude helps him with touchups. black is still a favorite but he's dabbled in other colors, dark purples and greens and blues.

loves to be covered in stuff. when he's baking, he will intentionally smear flour on his black pants and make it look accidental, and when he paints he doesn't wash his hands. this is partially so he can see the evidence himself, and partially because he wants people to notice it and ask. he wants to say, "oops, i was baking earlier, i must've wiped my hands on my pants."

he still has shitty irresponsible piercings from when he was a teenager. the more recent ones are more professional.

his tattoos are pretty and useless. he designed most of them himself.

there's color in his face. sleeping gets a little easier every night.

[greynatomy]

oh, shit.

katie mccabe x reader

second part to luck of the irish.

part one part three

———

You decided to go on an instagram live, just because. You opened the app and started the live, propping your phone up on your bookshelf. You’re sitting on your living room floor, next to you a box.

“Hi, guys. Hi! Wow, you’re all coming in quickly.”

Grabbing the box next to you, you place it in front of you.

“Today, I got the shelf that I ordered because I am officially out of space in my first shelf with all my books.” You open the box, taking all the pieces out.

i saw you at the game you were at the arsenal match! north london!!!

You read through all the comments being left.

“Yeah, I was at the game.”

you watch sports? you’re hot

“Okay, don’t come for me like that. I know I’ve said before that I hated doing or watching sports, but I’m a changed woman.” You look through the instructions, grabbing what you need.

“Okay, looking at the instructions, it looks easy enough. Listen, I’m not a very handy person. I don’t do any of the building, but since I’m alone, I should try to be an independent woman.”

where selena and taylor? are selena and taylor still there? selena taylor?

“Selena and Taylor went back home yesterday. That spend a week with me and I showed them all my favorite places. Especially the small bakery that I got to like almost every single day. Mindy, the owner, is the sweetest lady I’ve ever met. Ugh, I love her and her muffins.”

you live in london? are you there for a movie? what’s the bakery called

“Okay, this looks pretty self explanatory, but they didn’t give me any tools. I thought they come with tools.” Grabbing the two longest planks you set them down on the floor, away from you. “I don’t know where any of my tools are. Do I even have any tools?”

Reading through more comments, “I guess a lot of you don’t know that I live in London now. I do, I moved here like two years ago. I first came to shoot a movie, but fell in love with many things here and just moved, I guess.”

Before you could say anything else, you hear the door open and the loud voice of your girlfriend follows.

“Baby! I’m home! And I’ve brought some guests.” Finding you in the living room, she makes her way to you, grabs your face and gives you a big kiss. “Hi, lovely.”

“Ew. Don’t do that in front of us please.” The voice of Alessia breaks you out of your shock.

“Are you trying to build something l? Babe you know you’re not very handy.” Seeing your frozen state, she waves a hand in front of your face. “You okay?” All you can do is point towards your phone, where she can see is instagram live. “Oh, shit.”

“What? What happened?” Leah moved her face next to Katie’s to look where she’s looking. “Oh, shit indeed. Well, hello instagram. How are you all doing? My name is Leah Williamson and I’ll be your host tonight.”

it’s leah williamson!!! no way katie and y/n?!?!

You move your face closer to you phone, pushing Leah and Katie’s head out of the way.

“Well, this wasn’t how the public was supposed to find out. But, uh, well, Katie is my girlfriend and Leah and Alessia are our children. Now I’m gonna make them build this shelf, so that’s all for today folks! Bye!” You end the livestream, giving them a smile.

“That went well, didn’t it?” Katie says, giving you her big smile.

“Yup. Now you can build this for me. It didn’t come with tools so I gave up. Good luck you three.”

You walk out of the living room. The three footballers all look at each other in silence.

“She’s bossy isn’t she?” Alessia asks.

“I know I don’t have to listen to her cause she’s not my girlfriend, but I feel like I have to.” Leah states.

“Alright. Let’s get to work.”

[magics-neptunes-things]

Good 4 U (2)

Hello everyone!

Some of you asked for a second part for Good 4 U, so here it is! I will have the song running in my head for days again, but it's ok.

Tumblr was a pain in my ass today, I had to repost this like four time, so I hope everything is ok!

Enjoy ♥

TW : Menstrual pain, loss of consciousness, suggestive mention

PART 1 | PART 3

______________________________________________________________

After your first kisses, you and Katie kept seeing each other every day. Your departure from London having been rejected for the beautiful eyes of the Irish, you decided to find yourself a job, not wishing to live off your sister any longer. You could have taken a hotel, but Lia seemed so hurt when you made that suggestion that you quickly backed off. And because you love spending time with your sister, you decided to keep you two days a week just for the two of you, with no one around. Including her girlfriend and your… maybe girlfriend?

Katie never officially offered you to be, but your dates are punctuated with affectionate gestures, looks that you would qualify yourself as sappy and kisses. Katie regularly takes you to look at the stars in different places in London and you strongly suspect her of doing research of the best spots for it in London. But you think it’s really cute.

Just like the fact that Katie always finds a time to come see you in the cafe where you work when she is not far from London for her football matches. This morning is no exception. You automatically raise your eyes towards the front door when the bell rings and you smile when Katie appears. Dressed in Arsenal training, ready for training.

"It’s for you I think"

Liam, your colleague with whom you are almost always in doubles during your schedules, gives you a playful elbow in the ribs, making you roll your eyes. But you don’t hesitate to approach the counter with a little smile.

"Good morning Ma'am. What can I serve you today?"

"It’s Miss for the moment, thank you very much. And I will gladly have a mango-strawberry-banana smoothie."

Her eyes sparkle with malice and her smile is to die for. Your smile expands as you grab the ingredients you need to prepare Katie’s order.

"What time are you done?" Katie asked while you cut the banana into pieces.

"At 4:00. What about you?"

"Almost the same. I’ll pick you up and we’ll spend the evening together, is it ok?"

You glance at her with a little smile, finishing her order before placing it on the counter.

"With pleasure"

Katie gives you a satisfied smile before carrying the straw of her drink to her lips to drink, looking at you straight in your eyes. Sometimes you feel like she knows how overwhelmed you are by your own attraction to her and that she loves to play with it. But it amuses you as much as it does for her, once the heat waves she gives you have passed.

Peeking around to make sure no client or staff members are looking at you, Katie leans over you to drop a quick kiss on your lips as goodbye. Her lips smell like strawberries and you almost mechanically say goodbye to her hand when she leaves the establishment.

***

The rest of your day has been more complicated. As long as you can remember, your menstrual period has always been complicated for you. Over time, you have discovered that you suffer from endometriosis and sometimes the treatment you have been given is not really strong enough to relieve you. This is the case today, even though you took your treatment on time.

As time passes and the hour of the end of your service approaches, you are mixed between relief and anxiety. The pain is escalating and you’re glad you can get out of there, but you don’t have the guts to tell Katie that you need to cancel your date.

You really want to see her and you cross your fingers so that the pain disappears throughout the day.

Katie is smiling when you join her and you let her pass her arms around your shoulders to squeeze you against her, as you pass yours around her waist. Closing your eyes briefly, you bury your face in the hollow of her neck before releasing her. You then realize that Katie is studying you carefully, her eyebrows slightly gathered.

"You look tired"

You smile at her and shrug your shoulders, trying to adopt a light tone so as not to attract her suspicions any longer.

"A little, but it’s okay. I’m glad to see you"

"I’m glad to see you too" Katie smile back, kissing your cheek.

Taking you by the waist, Katie trains you to her car in which you settle with relief. Standing up when you have your cramps is always particularly difficult. You ask Katie about her day to keep her busy, discreetly massaging your upper thighs with your hands, hoping to relieve your pain. But we cannot say that it works very well.

You feel guilty when Katie announces that she has planned a walk in a park near you. A walk is probably the worst thing possible for you right now, but you didn’t tell Katie about your situation when you found her so you don’t dare to do it now either.

You manage not to attract the attention of Katie during the first part of the walk, clinging to her arm who probably took your behavior for affection. But the pain begins to be unmanageable. You can’t even focus on what Katie is telling you, her voice and accent making you feel like she’s away from you and not just by your side.

"Y/N?"

You try to shake yourself mentally, but you can’t. Your vision is black and you feel yourself falling. It’s only thanks to Katie’s arms that you don’t crash on the floor. When you regained consciousness a few seconds later, the Irish woman made you sit on a bench.

"Y/N what’s going on?"

The worry is audible in Katie’s voice and you feel uncomfortable having imposed this vision on her. You who hoped to continue to make her addicted to you, we cannot say that this is the best way to do it. You are embarrassed when you answer her, not finding the courage to look into her eyes.

"I… It’s nothing, I just have my period. Cramps are bad sometimes. I better go home"

You try to get up but Katie imitates you, her arm instantly finding place in the hollow of your back.

"I’ll take you home"

You don’t know if it’s a good idea, not sure Lia enjoys seeing you go home with Katie, but the tone of the latter clearly lets you understand that you have no choice. And you still have to admit that walking with Katie half-carrying you is a lot easier than walking alone.

"Thank you" you mumble to Katie when she parks in front of your home. "I’m sorry about our date. Can I still call you tomorrow?"

Katie doesn’t answer your question right away, which makes you look up at her. Again, she’s watching you carefully and you feel a little uncomfortable, writhing in your seat.

"I thought I’d stay with you"

You bite your lip briefly, hesitating between accepting and enjoying her comforting presence or refusing and keeping some of your pride. But you end up nodding and Katie literally jumps out of the vehicle to help you get out in turn.

On your way home, you come across a post-it note from Lia, informing you that she and Caitlin will be home late and that they went to the cinema and the restaurant. It’s probably better this way, so that Katie will have time to go home without getting anyone into trouble. You didn’t hide from your sister that you see Katie regularly and Lia always seems a little suspicious, but without judging or trying to forbid you anything. You know that there is only the desire to protect you there-behind and anyway the most wicked look of Lia is probably equivalent to that of a kitten.

"Tell me what I can do for you" Katie asks after accompanying you to your bed.

"This wasn’t how I imagined bringing you in my room for the first time" you point out while lying on your bed, watching Katie.

The Irish girl rolls her eyes with an amused smile but seems determined not to move until she has had a task. You stand up to rummage through your bedside table and get out your treatment.

"Water" finally decides Katie, leaving your room to go to the kitchen.

Katie knows Lia’s house pretty well, before you started dating Lia and Katie were friends for a while.

When you hear the characteristic noise of the kettle, you imagine that Katie decided to make you hot tea. So you take the opportunity to undress, putting on clothes much more comfortable than those you wore until now. When you lie down, Katie joins you and you quickly realize that it is not with a tea that she returns, but bottles of hot water.

"To ease the pain" informs Katie by giving them to you and you finally wonder if you will not propose to her.

"Thank you" you say however simply, hoping that the gratitude you feel is audible in your voice.

You pat the bed next to you, inviting Katie to lay down next to you.

The latter does not beg, getting rid of their shoes before settling next to you. Taking care to wrap you in your down, she then attracts you against her and you take advantage of the situation by burying your face in the hollow of her neck.

Her caresses on the back help you relax and you close your eyes for a few moments. You feel like you hear Katie’s brain smoking and you try to get out of your torpor to speak again.

"You don’t have to stay, you know?"

"I know. But I want to, if you agree, obviously"

You answer only with a vague throat noise, trying to get a little closer physically to her, in search of comfort. Katie is sweet and hot against you and this brings you a form of relief that you did not expect.

"You’re soft" you mumble

Katie laughs when she hears you and you open an eye so you can look at her.

"I’m not sure anyone called me soft before"

You smile despite yourself, moving slightly to be even more glued against her. Katie willingly lets you do it, tightening her arms around your waist.

"You're soft, and warm, and comfy"

"I'm a little hot" Katie confess. "Is it ok if I take my shirt off?"

You open an eye and nod, sitting in your bed to let Katie making herself comfortable. Deciding to get rid of her pants too, the Irish slips under the sheets and takes you against her. You seem to have read somewhere that the heat helps relieve cramps and you do not know if it is true or if it is also the case for menstrual cramps, but you enjoy feeling her skin against yours.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A little" you mumble

Your eyes are suddenly heavy, which is not surprising because you just took your medication and it make you feel sleepy. You still want to stay awake to be with Katie anyway, but it seems like she knows better.

"Sleep, Beautiful. You need to rest"

You mumble something about not wanting to sleep, but four seconds later and you're dead asleep. Katie stayed with you every single second of the time of your nap.

But you wake up an hour later, the pain starting again even stronger than before. You wake up wincing, your agitation having already attracted Katie’s concerns. Her caresses in your hair and on your face are pleasant and you appreciate the freshness of her hands, but it does not work to remove all the pain.

"I hate to see you hurt like that. What can I do?"

You don’t know, but you feel like that answer is definitely not going to work for Katie.

"Maybe a little more hot water for the bottles?"

"I'll be right back"

Katie slips out of bed, not without gently kissing you before, and you follow her with the look when she leaves the room. Katie lost in her thoughts and you fell asleep, you didn’t hear Caitlin and Lia coming home. If that were the case you probably wouldn’t have sent Katie dressed only in a t-shirt and her underwear to warm you up a little water.

Moreover, when she arrives in the kitchen, Katie almost makes a seizure by falling face to face with Lia. Under the surprise, Katie drops one of the bottles on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Lia asks, frowning.

"The question I ask myself is more like why is she half dressed" laughs Caitlin, enjoying a yogurt, sitting on the stool next to the central island.

Your big sister’s gaze slips on the lower part of Katie, then suddenly rising to the height of her eyes, ready to shoot at the Irish woman.

"It’s not what you think" Katie immediately says, passing next to her to access the kettle. "We were walking in the park when Y/N started to feel bad"

"What’s wrong with her?" Lia immediately gets alarmed. "Why didn’t she write to me?"

"It’s her period" explains the Irish, filling the bottles with hot water.

Lia makes a grimace when hearing the information, she too is aware of the pain of your menstruation. She saw you struggling all your life with it.

"I brought her back here and stayed with her, but I don’t know what else I can do" the Irishwoman confesses before looking up at Lia. "Is there something that could help?"

"No, sometimes her medicine just doesn't work" made Lia sadly shrugging her shoulders while Caitlin makes a grimace as a sign of compassion "Hot water is a good idea"

Lia's voice is soft when she looks at her and Katie nods before apologizing to her teammates to come back to you quickly. Still in the same position, you watch her enter the room and look with a sigh of relief at the newly hot bottles.

"Thank you" you whisper with gratitude

You were going to take it, but Katie makes you lie on your back, gently pushing you by the shoulder, gently rolling the bottles on the different painful parts of your body.

"Oh god" you mumble, feeling the contraction of your muscles relax a little bit.

Katie answers nothing, content to smile softly when seeing that what she imagined seems to work. Her hands sometimes replace bottles and you find yourself being much more relaxed than you’ve been all day.

"It may be that your sister saw me leave the room in this outfit" informs you Katie

You can’t help but smile when you hear the information, trying to imagine Lia’s face. Katie seems worried about your reaction, but if things keep going the way you want, chances are the Irish girl will spend a lot of time at your home.

"It doesn’t matter" you assure nicely

Katie gives you a smile and now that she has managed to relax you a little, you are dying to feel her skin against yours. Your eyes cross and Katie’s movements with her bottle are interrupted.

"Can you hold me?" you whisper shyly.

"Of course"

You don't let her get back on her back, drawing her against you so that she feels pressed against you. Between that and the hot water bottles, the pain is almost tolerable. Head right next to yours, Katie looks at you a few moments before she resumes talking.

"I wanted to ask you something today"

"What is it?" you ask curiously.

You turn your eyes towards her when she puts one of your strands of hair back, trying to imagine what she might want to ask you. But she seems to hesitate and you bite your lower lip before talking again.

"Have you changed your mind?"

"No" quickly answers Katie "But first, I have another question to ask you"

"Go ahead?"

Looking at you carefully, Katie takes a small breath. You can feel the tension emanating from her body, even if it seems to be related to stress and not to pain, like yours.

"You said you weren’t planning on leaving London yet" Katie starts as you nod "But… Does that mean you’re going leave at some point?"

After you kissed in the halls of Meadow Park, you had a little chat. Deciding to see where your story will take you, you pushed back your departure to an unknown date.

You open your mouth to answer her, but Katie puts a finger on your lips, intimating you silence.

"Because the first question I wanted to ask you was whether you wanted to be my girlfriend. But I’m not sure I want a long-distance relationship. But I really like you and I need to know if the time we have together is short or if I, we, can hope for more"

Your heart accelerated when you heard Katie’s confessions, and you feel a little bad about not being clear enough with her. When Lia spoke to you briefly about Katie, she always described the young woman as being attentive to her friends and very loyal. You are happy to see that she was right and that there is a difference between Katie the hothead that can be seen on the football fields and the Katie outside.

"I’m sorry to talk about it now, I know this may not be the best timing"

"No, no, it’s fine" you say, finally speaking. "I’m sorry I misspoke. When I told you I didn’t know when I would leave London, it was because I didn’t plan to. I don’t know where our story is going, but I really want to explore it"

A wave of relief passes over Katie’s face as she looks at you with a new ray of hope in her eyes. You didn’t answer the rest of her sentence, the girlfriend part, because you don’t really know if it’s an official question or not. You don’t have to wait long though.

"Then would you agree to be my girlfriend?"

A smile on your lips, you bite your lower lip before answering.

"I would love to"

With a big smile on her lips, Katie gently puts her hand on your cheek and gently draws your face against hers. This is clearly not the first time you kiss, but this kiss has another flavor. Katie is your girlfriend. You are Katie McCabe's girlfriend.

***

"Y/N we're leaving in ten, you better being dressed and not naked in your bed making disgusting business!"

Groaning, you roll off your girlfriend, on which you were still deep asleep.

"I don’t know how Cait stand her" you grumble as you rub your eyes

"Stop it, you know you love her. And we were right to do our disgusting business last night" Katie comments, stretching before yawning.

You smile softly as you get out of bed, digging through your cupboard to choose your clothes. This year, your parents decided to leave your native Switzerland to celebrate Christmas with Lia and you in London. Katie and Caitlin are also there, as are some of Katie’s family members and Caitlin’s mother and sister. All this little world cannot fit in one house, so Caitlin’s family will sleep in her house, yours in Lia’s and yours, and Katie’s in her house as well.

In order to enjoy yourself longer, your parents are already arriving today and it has been agreed that you will pick them up at the airport.

"Do you really have to go in ten minutes?"

You turn towards Katie who looks at your almost naked body without the slightest bit of shame and discretion, making you laugh softly. You put on a t-shirt and pants and climb on four leg on the bed to put a kiss on your girlfriend’s lips. You knew before your lips touched that you wouldn’t come out of bed so soon, but you laugh when Katie’s arms wrap around your waist to draw you against her.

"Oh for the love of God"

Your sister’s voice sounds behind you and you roll on your back to get rid of Katie’s embrace, with whom you were always exchanging kisses. You may have lost track of time. The cushion that Lia throws at you bounces off your hands when you place them in front of your face to protect you, landing on Katie’s legs. You’re both very amused.

Even Lia cannot hold back her amused smile when she speaks again.

"Let’s go. Now."

Lia wait for you to get out of bed before leaving your room again. You hear her saying goodbye to Caitlin in the kitchen when you put on a sweatshirt that doesn’t belong to you.

"Hey, it’s mine! I’ve been looking for it for weeks!"

"Oops" you smile maliciously at Katie

You make a quick journey through the bathroom to refresh yourself and you are tying your hair in a messy bun when you return to your bedroom. Meanwhile, Katie stands up and doesn’t seem disturbed by your hands in your hair when she grabs you by the waist to draw you against her. Sometimes you wonder if she has Spanish origins, between her easy tanning and how tactile she can be with you.

"Will you still be here when we get back?" you ask Katie while she kisses your cheek and you finish to do your hair.

"You want me to?"

"Yes, but no pressure. You’ll have time to meet my parents later, if you prefer."

Now that your hair is tied properly, you gently put your arms around Katie’s neck.

"Then I’ll be there" Katie replies before kissing you affectionately.

"Y/N!"

Lia’s voice, although usually sweet, sounds from the front door, making you both laugh softly. That’s when Caitlin's head goes through your door frame.

"Although I like to take the time to relax after you annoy her, Y/N, out."

[fazedlight]

Irish (soft season 6 ficlet)

Kara knew something was wrong.

Not dangerous wrong. Lena’s heart rate was steady and calm, and there was no one else in the apartment with her. But as Kara flew above the few buildings left to her apartment, she could see how Lena was hunched over, see the stress and sadness in her body. And it made Kara’s heart ache.

Landing in the open window, Kara stepped inside, the small taps alerting Lena to her entrance. “Kara,” Lena said, trying to hide the distress on her face as she rose from the couch, grabbing at VHS tapes spread in front of the TV. “You’re home early.”

“They put out the fire before I got there,” Kara said softly. “The winds weren’t as bad as they thought.”

Lena nodded, hurriedly placing the pile of tapes into a familiar box. Kara had flown the box back to National City herself - one of the many artifacts carried over from Lena’s mother’s home, which Lena inherited at the age of 18. Lena had only gone once or twice as an adult, until the discovery of her magic made her curious to reconnect to what she could of her mother. “Are you okay?” Kara asked.

“I’m fine,” Lena said.

“Lena.” Kara stepped forward, kneeling on the rug, gently taking Lena’s busy hands into her own. “Lena, I’m here.”

Lena paused, leaving the remaining tapes next to the TV, taking a slow breath as she dropped back to sit on the floorboards instead. “I just didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“Feel what way?”

Lena stared down at the floor, not quite ready to look Kara in the eye. “I was so young. There’s so much I don’t remember.”

Kara took a seat in front of her, still holding Lena’s hands. She waited patiently - silent, and comforting, letting Lena take her time to think or talk as she wished.

“In one of the tapes,” Lena said, her voice a touch deeper than normal, “She sang an Irish lullaby. I haven’t heard it in decades. The melody slammed back into me.”

“I’m sure it was lovely,” Kara said.

“She spoke to me. In Irish. She spoke to me, and I didn’t understand what she was saying,” Lena said, frustrated. “And in the tape, I spoke back, and I didn’t understand what I was saying. It’s all gone.”

And that’s when Kara stiffened, a bolt of lightning running through her as she understood. It was different in her case, of course - she had once thought herself the last to speak a language, carrying a dead culture in her soul. Through sheer luck, she was able to get her father, her mother, her people back - but the feeling of being orphaned, she understood, if in a different way than Lena. “The Luthors don’t speak Irish,” Kara replied.

“Language attrition is common in children who stop speaking their first language before the age of 12,” Lena said softly, in a tone that made Kara realize that Lena must’ve read about this a dozen times before. “I didn’t know what I was losing until it was too late.”

“Lena,” Kara said, leaning forward to give the brunette a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know it sounds so silly,” Lena said. “It’s not like I have much need to speak Irish.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t mourn what you’ve lost,” Kara said, thinking back to a million conversations she’d had with Kelly about her own traumas, even if later they were reversed by fate. “You can still be sad about it.”

Lena sighed, melting into Kara’s arms, and Kara felt relieved. They sat, wrapped in each other’s embrace and breathing in the peace of the evening, Kara rubbing gently at Lena’s back until Lena was ready. “Well, I can put the rest of this away,” Lena said, pulling back, her voice steady for the first time that evening. “We can start cooking dinner.”

Kara nodded, watching as Lena gazed back - a bit mournful, a bit sad, but a certain lightness compared to before. “If it helps,” Kara said gently, with one last thought, “I can learn Irish with you? It may not be like before, but sometimes getting some of the pieces back can mean something.”

Lena looked at her for a moment, before smiling. “I’d like that.”

[starkwlkr]

so there’s this boy | cillian murphy

Y/n sat across her manager, Holly, at a restaurant. They were discussing new movie roles and promo that still needed to be done. Y/n had zoned out after Holly mentioned some movie role that she was offered. She couldn’t stop thinking about Cillian. They had messaged each other for several months now. Neither of their managers knew about their potential new relationship. Was it a relationship? Y/n didn’t know.

“You with me?” Holly questioned when she noticed the blonde was zoning out.

“Yeah, I’m good I’m here. What’s up ?” She cleared her throat and sat up straighter.

“Your schedule is full until next month, after that your sisters wedding is next and if it all goes to plan, you finally get a break. Have you decided if you’re taking a date to the wedding?” Holly asked.

“Shit . . . I forgot about the wedding,” Y/n sighed. “Does that make me a bad person? It’s my own sister’s wedding! I just have a lot going on here.”

“You’re not a bad person. That’s why I’m here to help. If you want to cancel some interviews, we can.” Holly replied.

“No, I can do it. I just can’t have any distractions.”

Then stop talking to Cillian

Y/n couldn’t help it. Cillian was on her mind a lot lately.

“Babe, you and I both know you would never call that Irish guy ‘a distraction’. Just call him your lover.”

“What?”

Holly chuckled at Y/n’s reaction. “That Irish guy? Cillian, yeah him. He’s good looking. I know that you’ve been seeing him lately.”

“Who else knows?” Y/n whispered as if it was top secret information.

“His manager probably and me as far as I know. I only found out because he asked me to give you this.” Holly pulled out an envelope from her purse and slid it towards Y/n.

Y/n grabbed it and saw her name written in pen in Cillian’s handwriting. “Be right back, I have to make a call.” Holly said as she stood up from her seat with her phone in hand.

Y/n opened the envelope and saw a letter from Cillian. She unfolded the letter and saw a smaller piece of paper fall onto her lap. She picked it up and read it. Her eyes widened when she realized what it was. It was a concert ticket to see Stevie Nicks, her favorite musician.

She set the ticket down and finally read the letter that Cillian had written her.

You haven’t left my mind, not for one second. I can still hear your laughter and I never want it to end. You have my heart and if you let me, I could have yours. My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own. You are kind, gentle, beautiful and full of love. I always hoped I would find someone that loves so deeply and I have finally found them.

C.M

i’ll see you soon

BARBENHEIMER TAGLIST

@leclercloml @butterfly-skinnylegend @rockerchick05 @agustdpeach @celesteblack08 @probablypossesedbysatan @kittyrumbl3r @electrobutterfly @knpgituloh @butlersluvbot @captainwans @bellstwd @theekyliepage @marti-su @multifans-things @ceruleanrainblues @litterallnobody @barnes70stark @astheni-a @jackierose902109 @sinarainbows @cosniffee @thatgirlthatreadswattpad

[herinsectreflection]

I'm So Evil, And Skanky, And I Think I'm Kinda Gay (Bad Girls)

In 1872, a full twenty-five years before the release of Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Irish author Sheridan Le Fanu published Carmilla. This story depicts the relationship between the young and innocent protagonist, Laura, and the confident and mysterious title character, Carmilla. A friendship blossoms between Carmilla and Laura and the two become close, but over time Laura becomes suspicious of Carmilla’s strange behaviour. She flees from her, and it is revealed that Carmilla is a vampire who has been preying on Laura – feeding on her nightly and attempting to turn her into a creature of darkness. Carmilla is confronted, killed, has her head removed and body burned, and the ashes of both are thrown into the river. 

A simple story and much shorter than a true novel, Carmilla’s historical impact outweighs its length. Not only is it one of the earliest and most notable pieces of vampire fiction, and a great influence on Dracula itself, it is also the origin point of one of the most controversial tropes in this genre of fiction: the Lesbian Vampire.

The vampire myth as constructed by Dracula and its compatriots positions vampires as a corrupting sexual influence upon women. Older men sneak into the bedrooms of virginal young women, penetrate them, and therefore transform them into something tragic and ungodly. They personify a threat to patriarchy; a threat perceived in the form of female sexuality. The idea is that an unmarried woman having symbolic sex will irrevocably twist them into some kind of monster.

The Lesbian Vampire exists as an extension of this idea, focusing on one of the most diabolical threats to patriarchal ideology – a woman who sexually desires another woman. Carmilla’s victims are exclusively female, and her pursuit of Laura is very visibly romantic in nature. She kisses Laura, confesses love for her, the two take walks in the moonlight and embrace each other. This is what leads to Carmilla feeding upon Laura and threatening her death. Symbolically, there is no separation between the two. The danger Laura is in is caused by same-sex desire. Carmilla’s villainy is her lesbianism. The trope does not have to include vampires in a strict sense, but more generally the link of sapphic seduction leading to corruption.

Read More

[zilabee]

Tony Bramwell, on Yoko

- gradually, inch by inch she intruded into our lives

- It was hardly surprising that John felt some kind of electricity; but it was probably the air crackling with Yoko’s desperation

- If I were standing about with him, Yoko would come up to me and say something in her high little girl’s voice, perhaps hoping to get John to notice her [...]. John would walk off to talk to someone else, while she stared after him. In those days, Yoko was always staring after John.

- She wanted to possess John and she was the one who was exceptionally jealous. She could not cope with the fact that John could love three other guys.

- her piece de resistance, the much-reprised performance of “Cut Piece.”  The scissors were wired for sound, so every cut had a horrific, almost animal sound, like a beast crunching into its human prey.

- did Yoko do her hypnotism thing, as some of John’s friends thought she had, or did she have a powerful new drug in her arsenal? Nobody really believed that John fell in love overnight, because why hadn’t he done so before? He’d been kicking Yoko in and out of his life for over a year. Mostly, he had given the impression that he resented and despised her. [...] Perhaps it was that he really was mentally ill and like many schizoid personalities, got religious mania.

- Overnight, he no longer had a will of his own.

- ...an attempt to use Primal Scream Therapy under Arthur Janov by telephone, to free him from his heroin addiction...

- Sir Joe said he didn’t think the pictures were obscene, he had seen much worse, an opinion which confused John and Yoko. They wanted to be seen as avant-garde and enfants terribles.

- Yoko had no sense of humour at all and she loathed Phil as much as Phil hated her. Each of them was implacable and paranoid.

- I used to dread taking John and Yoko’s arty stuff into radio stations and asking them to play it. For me, it was a bad experience because it was unplayable and unlistenable. [...] The reaction was a bored, “Why are you bringing this crap to us?” At first I argued with radio producers about it, though not on a very artistic level. I even heard myself saying, “Because he pays my wages. That’s why!” It was so embarrassing.

- As far as Yoko was concerned, if you spout all this magical, healing, antiwar, be kind to everybody, all-seeing, all-caring, all-macrobiotic stuff, being pregnant on heroin would seem to be the last thing she would need. And how does all that stuff equate with shooting up smack? How does all that spiritual pontificating gel with the teaspoon and the needle, unless you’re a fraud?

- According to John, Yoko snorted [heroin], but I had no doubt that if she had used a needle, she would probably have said it was acupuncture.

- John used to like life. He used to like to get on a roll. Laugh, eat and drink. [...] proper breakfasts, an old-fashioned fry-up, pie and chips, fish and chips, fried chicken, a roast dinner on a Sunday, Chinese food, curry, spaghetti Bolognese. Everything. Then he met Yoko, grew his beard, and [...] from Irish navvy’s food, he went to heroin and macrobiotics. I think if Yoko had said it was spiritual to snort bean curd instead of eat it John would have done it.

- She and John used to whisper away in their corner, with a completely different, us-against-the-world perspective to everyone. I know they did, because filming quietly on the sidelines, I heard.

- Having discussed life and its ins and outs and meanings, and worked out that it all means nothing, John and Yoko didn’t want to, couldn’t possibly, give the edifice of the Beatles any credit, or indeed any respect.

- doubt set in because some critics and reviewers gave her favourable reviews in the press and on TV. You’d find yourself wondering if you were an intellectual failure, unable to spot the hidden value in Yoko’s art and music. [...] somehow it became important to judge Yoko as impartially as possible, mostly out of regard for John. The problem was we couldn’t accept that he could be so blinded.

- [Dan Richter] was a close confidant of [Yoko and Tony Cox]. He said he heard all their hopes and schemes to hook John, at first as a financial “angel,” then, with dawning excitement, as a lover.

- According to Dan, Tony Cox actively encouraged the affair between John and Yoko as a means of survival. He said that Cox would tell Yoko to “go get Lennon.” When John proved elusive, as he was at first, Cox told Yoko she wasn’t trying hard enough. For her part, when she saw how close she was to capturing their prey, Yoko told Dan that they’d soon be rich beyond their wildest dreams.

- Cox began to feel fragile, thinking he might get cut out. In all seriousness, he drew up an agreement that he insisted Yoko sign. This single-page document—which was drawn up and signed at Dan’s kitchen table—stated that when Yoko hooked John, they would split any cash she got from the endeavour.

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Two)

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Word count: 1.4k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Dazzling Company

“It’s going to be bloody winter before you know it,” Michael said. “We should go out and enjoy the sun while it’s here. You’ll love it,” he said. He had been wanting to go to the Christ Church Meadow for days, pestering you endlessly for three of them. 

And, eventually, it worked.

The cows lumbered about in the meadow, minding themselves and barely looking up to see Michael spread an Oxford blanket out on the ground, smoothing it down meticulously. They didn’t care that you were holding a tray of cupcakes, even though they looked delicious. They matched the blanket in Oxford colors: blue and silver. The two of you then sit, the cows and fence just to your right, his left. Michael messes with the clingfilm and releases the cupcakes in all their store-bought beauty.

“I’m not one to promote stress eating, but they looked nice in the shop.”

You sit on your knees at first, smoothing out your skirt as you do. Fresh air a surprisingly convenient distance away from your dorm room is what you needed. “It’s not that stressful being out here,” you admit. It wasn’t a lie. The anxiety of potential disaster simmered when the fields came into view, long grass shielding your legs from the crisp autumn breeze. You take a blue cupcake. It’s moist, and the icing isn’t a cavity-inducing level of sweet.

Michael’s face shifts with a smile, all teeth. It’s adorable. “What was that I heard?”

You huff. “You were right.” You shift to sit on the blanket fully, as the needles in your feet are slowly phasing to numbness.

There’s a little shimmy to Michael’s shoulders as he basks in the admission. “Knew I would be.” He then takes a cupcake himself. A silver one (he has to keep the balance). “So the cows are good company?”

“It’s easier to tell that they don’t care we’re here. And I had to take your suggestion at some point.”

“So does that mean you’ll pick up Ulysses soon?” His brow arches as he playful pouts his lips.

You laugh, pointing at him with the same hand you held the cupcake in. “I never said that.”

“Come on,” he pushes you at the knee, making stray grass stick to your stockings. “Give the Irish a chance.”

“Don’t make me sound like a Tory.” You push him back. “I don’t have a working knowledge of 19th century Irish intellectualism to follow along.”

“I’ll give you a reading list.”

“Fuck off,” you snorted. “I’ve got plenty to read. And so do you.”

“Then, I’ll read it to you and give you a detailed explanation of every reference made so you can understand completely.”

“As long as it’s before bed so I have a soft place to land when I’m inevitably put to sleep.”

“Sounds like a date to me.”

You laugh again, but you also try to keep your blush to a minimum. You’re not protected by the flattering candles of your dorm room. It’s a bright afternoon with not a cloud in sight, easy to expose yourself. Michael is rarely one to tease you, but it still makes your nerves rattle inside. The pump to your heart you’re used to when something terrible is on the horizon, and not a yellow field with cattle and cupcakes. You inhale and exhale with purpose as you pray your heart has slowed. All because of bloody Ulysses? “These are good,” you attempt to say plainly.

“Glad I chose wisely.”

“Sometimes, you do.” You’re not above teasing back, especially with Michael being (or needing to be) correct. Grounding him is essential at times, whether or not the heat of a crush looms over you. But for now, you both take pieces of grass to chuck toward the other when they’re not expecting it.

The cows eventually get closer as the hour passes. The deep tone from their throats grows with them until one spots them and hangs his head over the fence. You didn’t notice until you saw Michael’s body jolt as he looked up. You’re ecstatic with your visitor, and take the time to stand slowly before letting him sniff you. Small snot drops graze your knuckles.

“An English Longhorn.” You say.

“Oh.”

“A pretty one too.”

It’s as if the bovine understands you. He nudges his head to rub your hand, and he soon invites you to scratch under his chin. You do so happily.

Michael’s mouth is full of chocolate cupcake. A blue one this time. “If I had known they would be this friendly, I would’ve brought food for them as well.”

You fake a gasp as you look down at him. “You’re telling me Oxford’s certified genius, Michael Charles Gavey, did not consider the idea of cows wanting a snack?”

“I wasn’t planning on spending time with the cows today.”

You crouch down to your tote, pulling out the paper bag, heavy with half sliced apples and some carrots. You shake it, and smirk at him. There was no way you could hide a smile completely, so this was your best chance. The cow enjoyed your one-up on him as well, smelling the outside of the bag.

“And using my middle name was unwarranted.”

“Every genius has his weakness.”

The cow interrupts the conversation. Either from lack of scratches or snacks, it’s hard to tell. You make sure to please him with both by starting with half an apple, then stroking his cheeks as he chews. You can feel him crushing the apple with his teeth. Accordingly, you pet and coo whilst asking how delicious it was.

“You’re a natural.” Michael says.

“A lot of my neighbors were farmers. They didn’t mind when I fed them.” You bend down and grab a carrot. The longhorn exhales happily as he chews again. “Do you want to feed him?”

“You seem to have a handle on it.”

Then another longhorn shows up. He’s sneakier, introducing himself with only a huff. It startles you for a moment, but Michael jolts again. He shines in a beautiful shade of black with patches of brown that the afternoon sun reveals. When the first one finishes eating, you take a carrot to the other. The cow takes it after a sniff and doesn’t protest when you scratch at his neck. He demands a bit more aggressively, with food and attention.

The other cow stomps a hoof into the dirt.

“I can’t give them both love. Help me.” You hold out half an apple for him to take.

Michael does not reach out. He doesn’t look at the cows, but the ground and feels the texture of the blanket between his fingers.

You keep the apple. You try to keep your tone light. “So, Michael Charles Gavey is afraid of cows?”

“Once again, the middle name is unwarranted.”

“Come and feed one.”

“No.”

“Come on.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You pestered me about coming out here for days and you won’t even take advantage of this opportunity?”

“We clearly have different definitions of opportunity.”

You make a tsk sound with your tongue. You stand on your ground. “I know cows, do I not?”

“You do.”

“So, do you think I’d let anything happen to you?”

Michael stayed silent for a minute, briefly frozen in his stubbornness. But eventually he sighs as he says “No.” He takes the apple from your hand after you help him up.

You urge Michael forward, but make him stick out his free hand first. “Introduce yourself. Gently.” One hand is on his shoulder, the other around his forearm.

The cow turns his head as he sniffs.

The tension in his muscles under his arm is hard to ignore, but you push against his strength as the cow picks up the apple with his teeth, leaving nothing but some lines of spit on his open palm. He chokes as he cringes at the sight. “Disgusting.”

“Don’t be so mean.” You pull out a pack of tissues from your tote as well, handing them over to the spit-sensitive weakling. “See? You did well.”

“Thanks.” Michael kept his hands behind his back after wiping them clean.

“Wanna go again?”

He looked sheepishly at the paper bag, then the cows, who still hung their heads over the fence, surely aware that there was more to be had. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to, Michael.”

“No. I should trust you. I’ve done it once already.”

“You sure?”

Michael reaches into the bag, making the paper crinkle (and the cows more eager) as he pulls out one of the bigger carrots. He hesitates to hold out his hand, but you help him. He bites his lips close as he pushes through.

Taglist: @anukulee