#i might not be able to get to london very easily

[copia]

should i make bad choices

[cherry-leclerc]

so long, london ☆ ln4

genre: angst, toxic relationship traits, fluff, humor, established relationship, one-sided, smut

word count: 7.3k

You've never been read so easily by someone until he entered your world. All is good, all is true love, but realistically, that all comes crumbling down. Leaving you with a series of doubts. The kind you ignore because why not?

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, m!receiving, f!receiving

inspired by this and this !

To be completely fair, the accent wasn’t all that familiar to you. It’s odd, then alluring, then it makes you curl a brow. Australian? British? Irish—no, that’s too far off, ridiculous, really. 

It’s the end of spring, which means it’s also the start of summer, which also means your job is in full force. Which is good if you’re still considering transferring to London to study abroad. You were, thank you very much, which is why you needed a shit load of money. 

Being a waitress isn’t all that bad; the view was breathtaking. Laguna Beach has always been and always will be. It’s impossible to take away its charm. 

The diner is small, yet crowded, so it’s hard to get through with a stack of breakfast plates atop one another. A piece of bacon slips past you as you let out a curse, mentally noting to clean it up on your way back. “An order of pancakes, french toast, two hashbrowns, bacon, four freshly squeezed orange juice—shit. I forgot, it was grapefruit, wasn’t it?”

Setting down the plates as carefully as you can with their assistance, you let out a sigh. “I’ll be right back—”

“It’s fine, mate. Orange juice is just as good.” His voice is soft and rough, all at once. 

You halt, fixing your apron, awkwardly. “No, it was my mistake, I’ll fix it—”

Mmm, delicious, his friends chime in as they take a sip from the fresh beverage. The blue eyed boy signals with his dark brows. “Told you. Don’t worry about it.”

“Cool,” you mumble. “Enjoy. Oh, and let me know if you need anything.”

They don’t, which is quite upsetting since you were slightly curious to find out if you were right. Smoking a joint, you hear a loud cough. The mysterious brunette waves. “Tough shift?”

“Of course not, I love it.”

He nods. “I’m sure you do, but I’m also sure that’s not the complete truth.” He sits. “You’re on your break, I presume, which means you're not on the clock, which means I’m no longer a customer, but rather just a stranger. A stranger whom you will most likely never see again, so…”

A puff expands through the blue sky and yellow sun. You squint. “I’m worn out. Down. Worn down? Both.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

A chuckle. “But you were able to notice which obviously means I’m not much of an actress.”

He motions over to the cigarette. You hesitantly hand it over to him as he sucks sharply and releases. Bemused, you make a face. “I was because I go through the same thing, oftentimes. More like all the time.” Another hit. “I understand.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel seen or scared…” Humor laces your soft voice as you quirk a brow. He laughs.

“Seen, definitely.” A beat. “I’m Lando. Foreign visitor.”

Shaking his hand, you ease up, smiling, gently. “Nice to meet you, Lando—foreign visitor.” A pause. “Resident.”

“Really, now?” He plays along, teasing. You can hear it. 

“Lucky, I know. Been here my entire life. Can’t complain.”

“I bet.”

“Yourself?”

Lando winces. “England. Bristol, specifically. Ever been?” Nope. A toothy grin. “Don’t—rains all day long, gloomy all year. It’s depressing, but…” He relaxes. “It’s home.”

Staring off into the waves, you cover your face from the strong breeze. Salt air splits your tongue in half as you wipe your mouth. “Your accent. It’s captivating. As soon as I heard it, I grew jealous.”

The Brit frowns. “Your accent is much better. Clean,” he adds and you let out a snort. Accent—what accent? He rolls his blue eyes. “That one. You might not consider it one, but it is. Very…pretty.” A rosy tint flourishes onto his cheeks. Summer heat, summer breeze, perhaps. 

Retreating the roll from his hand, you stomp on it, letting the light die. “Thank you, Lando from England. You made my day.”

-

That’s the end, really. Just a nice encounter that still doesn’t make much sense, but you’re glad it happened. Normally, after a tiring shift, you borrow Benny’s surfboard and rush towards the killer waves. The soothing water releases a lot of the built up tension that lies between your shoulder blades. 

Today isn’t much different. After getting yelled at for— “getting the fucking order wrong, bitch” —and— “my toddler just threw up, yes, oh, nevermind, had a…teensy accident” — you don’t second guess it. As soon as your skin connects to the warm temperature, you sigh in sweet relief. 

“I need to get out, I need to get out, I need to—”

“You just got here, though. Plus, the water feels nice, don’t you think?”

Startled, you sit up on your board, rocking back and forth. With what looks to be a painful tan, Lando smiles, sheepishly. “Hello…again.”

“Are…” You look around, but the ocean is practically empty. “A-are you stalking me?”

His smile drops. “W-wh—no! Of course not! I saw you from afar, and I just thought…” He grimaces. “I should go.” Except he can’t. Every chance he tries to tread away, the waves only push him back. It’s comedic. “One sec…crap. One more—shit. Okay, two, two sec—”

“Ah, forget it, stay. Land of the free, no?” Rubbing your nose, you pull his paddle closer. “What brought you out here?”

“Heard it was a good day to attempt to surf. Tell you what—it’s not.”

A giggle escapes, then lessens. You furrow your brows. “Hold on a minute; are you teaching yourself? As in, no instructor? Just you? Alone? Solo?”

“Yeah, what about it?” he grumbles. “I can do it.”

You’re wheezing at this point, stomach clenching. “That’s nearly impossible! I’m mean, sort of, sort of not.” When his eyes don’t switch from being offended to getting the joke, you quickly snap your lips shut. “Can I teach you? It’s not that hard.”

He gapes, curls grow more and more. They’re cute, the way they bounce when he shakes his head. “And if it’s so easy then why can’t I just do it myself?”

“How long have you been trying?”

He burns up. “That’s not the point.”

“No, that’s exactly my point. You need a mentor, and lucky for you, I’m a surf instructor on the weekends. Come on.”

The twenty-four year old is not sure he even wants to be here, suffering from an overdose of embarrassment. Every single attempt ends up with him splashing straight into the clear water. He groans for the millionth time, clutching into his board. “I think I’m done for the day.”

You don’t fight him on it. His bruised nose makes you feel bad, and his chipped lip makes you want to giggle, so yeah, that’s enough. He can taste the salt water as he smacks his lips, trying to get rid of it. You click your tongue. “That doesn’t really do anything. Not until you bathe and brush your teeth. Or rinse. Either or.” 

He invites you to the mansion he’s rented for him and his friends, declaring that there would be endless amounts of alcohol, but when you decline, he rubs his jaw and grimaces. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, either. Craving tacos?”

So, that’s what you two do; converse over an amazing meal. You can already note his skin shedding, but for some reason, it’s endearing. You even spot a couple of moles. Chewing rapidly to try and forget about the spice, he pants. “London, eh?”

“England,” you correct. He deadpans you.

“That’s basically the same thing. It’s along the same lines. Just like Monaco and Paris.”

You shrug. “London—yes.”

Sniffling, he reaches for his can of Coke. Gasping left and right, he winks to the best of his ability. “You’re a smart girl…I think. And you’ll get in…I think.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

He laughs. “I hope you get in. I really do, Laguna Resident.” You roll your eyes. “You won’t miss all of this, though?” The warmth, the people, everything. A bittersweet feeling runs through your veins, momentarily, before you wave him off.

“Nothing is holding me back, forcing me to stay. I’ll be just fine.”

Finally, he calms down, occasionally sneezing. The way he excuses himself makes him look very polished. Lando licks his lips clean, drumming his long fingers against his lap. Later you would find out this would be his nervous tick. A teller. A good one, at most. 

“Call me? When you get there, I mean—if you want to, of course. No pressure.”

And while you may not have a reason to be a part of SoCal anymore, something else seemed to tug you to the other side of the world. “Might have to take your word for it.”

“Good.”

You grin, looking down onto your lap. Later he’d know this was your way of avoiding his stare. Butterflies, for the meantime. “Good.”

-

“No, no, no! You were supposed to—forget it, nevermind. Did you at least—” The stream flatlines and Lando is left speechless, headset drooping down, inch by inch. The way his eyes furiously twitch is enough for you to peck his cheek. 

“It’s late anyways. Come on, let's go to bed.”

There’s utter nonsense, and mumbo-jumbo that he spills as he reluctantly follows. If Max had done this, and if Max had done that. Pouting, you cradle his face, forcing him to look at you. “You’re telling me you wish you would still rather be playing than spend time with me?” You gently slap his face and he smiles, sheepishly. “I’m hurt.”

“No, no, you’re right. Of course I want to spend time with you.” When you peck his nose, he sighs. You can faintly smell the cheap beer, courtesy of said Max, so you let out a screech, creating a distance. 

“Never mind. I don’t want to spend time with you, you reek.” His smile drops and you pinch the tip of your nose. “Reek, I tell you. Go brush your teeth!”

The McLaren driver snarls, then makes his way over to your shared bathroom. “I remember when you used to be fun. Seems like a decade ago.”

“And make sure to floss!”

-

If you’re able to remember, you could openly admit that you did make that call. Actually, text. You got cold feet and sent a text last minute. You met up at the pub just around your dorm, the one that is only busy during the weekends, so is practically empty during the week. Hence, Wednesday night.

Wow. Your tan is gone, is the first thing he says when he sees you. It’s true. Being away from the California sun has completely changed you. A bit, but it did. Giggling, you accept his hug, finding warmth. London weather. “How was the move? I want to hear all about it.”

Oh, the move was as good as it could get. The airport lost two of my luggages, but it’s fine, I didn’t really need many dresses, because yes, you were right, it’s always gloomy. I miss Benny like a baby, but we always keep in touch—I’m actually going to visit him for his birthday. Which is in January? Yes…yes! January third. 

“What about you? Work?”

First of all, can’t really consider it work when it’s fucking fun. Second of all, it’s quite swell. I’ve got a new teammate, which sort of sucks, but he’s nice. The car is a bit wonky, but I’m sure that’ll change throughout the course of the year. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see. 

Conversations switched from having them on a steady stool in the pub, to having them in the comfort of his flat. Plus, you two were more open and honest with one another. 

Benny, yeah, it’s pancreatic cancer, and no, I’m not okay. 

The team is fucking shit. My arm still hurts from last week's crash, but I’ll be fine. Please, don’t you worry, love. 

Lando is an absolute angel. He pays for your tickets back home, along with Benny’s treatment. He declines the help at first, but as soon as he meets your smiley boyfriend, he accepts. I’ll pay you back. Once I’m better. Lando laughs with a muppet dive. Of course—of course, Ben.

You take care of him and his injuries. Follow doctors orders. Ice at least twice a day. Don’t forget to take your pain meds. No, for the love of God, they’re not candy, sweetheart.

It’s the best and the worst. And it’s all yours.

-

He’s very much obsessed with Mila as soon as she’s born. He congratulates his brother and his sister-in-law once, and off he goes, straight to the newborn. It makes you fall in love even more, which you didn’t know was possible, but here you were. 

“I say give it a year or two.”

“More like five. Come on, honey, be realistic.”

“I am! Can’t you tell he adores her?” Oliver scoffs. “He’s my brother. I would know.” His wife rolls her eyes, then moves on to snap a few pictures of Lando and Mila, then a thousand videos. 

“Crap. I want one,” he mentions on the drive back home. He gently rubs his thumb over your leg; you shudder. “You saw me, you were a witness, I was a good enough babysitter!”

“Babysitter? You’d be a dad, not a babysitter,” you retort, though your wobbly grin is a dead giveaway. A long finger pokes at your ribs as you laugh, scooting as far enough away as the McLaren allows you to get. “One day. Just not now.”

And he knows that’s true. He’s busy with racing, you’re busy with school; it's irresponsible. Your confirmation was sweet though—it was enough. The Brit hums, continuing the drive with a bright smile. 

“One day, then.”

-

Baby talk was a fun thing to dream about. To think, daydream. Marriage talk? Now that’s serious. 

It started on a Sunday morning; a non-race week. He’s finally back home and you're ecstatic. He was too, but that slowly goes out the window when you rush him to the room. I like where this is going, he starts when you drag him along. You bite back a smile, waiting for his noise. “What the shit?” he yelps, pulling on his curls. Spinning to face you, your boyfriend groans. “Where’s all my gaming—sweetheart,” he softened his voice, softened his eyes. “Sweetheart…”

“It’s gone! Bye-bye, adios!” You twirl around the empty room. “You don’t need it, Lando. It was rotting your brain.”

The color from his vibrant face fades, leaving him to let out a delirious laugh. “No, no, it wasn’t. Wh-why would you do that?” He doubles over. “I’m going to be sick.”

After a while of letting him drown in a puddle of self-pity, you snicker. Blue eyes look up at you; furrowed thick brows. What? “They’re in the guest room. I just needed us to paint the walls.” Releasing a scream, Lando plunges for you, picking you up and spinning you around until you flop against his arms. 

“Asshole!” you yell, smacking his arm. After a series of instructions, you both fall into a pattern. He focuses on the left side of the room and you focus on the left and the right. It just makes sense.

“Stick to your side,” he mumbles, pushing you away. You burn a laser to the back of his head. “I can feel you killing me—stop it.”

“Then quit drawing, you’re ruining it!” There’s a cat, a dog, a house, his racing car, you—you presume— and Mila for good measure, but he serves her no justice as she appears to be more of a blob. Going over it with a thick layer of paint, he curses to himself. As soon as he picks up the thin brush once again, you immediately set your foot down. “No, Lando, think before you commit.”

But he must not hear you—or ignores you—because suddenly he’s drawing something unrecognizable. You almost laugh when you guess it must be a donut, but when he draws the familiar rock, you come to a halt. “Stellar, no?”

“Hardly. Looks like more of a neck guard—next!”

But he pushes you away as soon as you reach over to cover it up. “I’m being serious. I’m mean, not now, but someday. Are you…” His voice drops, slowly, and he drums his fingers onto his thigh. Your lips turn upward. “...open to it? Getting married?”

“Well,” you start and his breath hitches, nervously tapping, awaiting for your response. Pressing your lips against his, you breathe out, and he groans. “I love you, Lando. I’m more than open to it.”

He sighs in relief, kissing you harder this time, with more emotion. “Good.” A beat. “Thank you.”

-

Slowly, but surely, you’re celebrating your three year anniversary—in Japan, a race week—but still. Yuki specifically gives you two a list of places to visit, so it makes everything a thousand percent easier. Fifth, he grunts, throwing his helmet onto the tiny bed in his motorhome. Screw it, I’m blowing my brains out.

“Hey now, quit talking like that.” A kiss. “I don’t care if you’re upset, I happen to be super duper proud.”

“It’s Super Trouper,” Oscar yells from the other side of the wall. “Don’t disrespect ABBA like that.

“Yeah,” Lando hums, pulling you in. “Don’t.”

“I’ll pull the trigger,” you warn. 

He gasps, theatrically. “You wouldn’t dare…”

“Try me.” 

“I already have—sweet.” His dirty implications makes you heat up and the Australian groans as he turns up his music. Lando snickers, changing quickly. “Happy Anniversary. It’s not everyday, you know?”

“I know,” you cheer, playing with your promise ring. You beam up at the bubbly Brit. “I just wish we were home. Celebrating in the comfort of our own place.”

He doesn’t mention it, but you considering London your home—despite not growing up there—makes him crush on you harder than ever before; it's sickening. Clapping loudly, he stands up, reaching for your hand. “Then let's go back home. What’s keeping us here?”

“Yuki,” you grunt, taking his open hand. “We’d be breaking his heart, Lan. We need to do these twenty-one things.”

“Ah, he’ll understand.” A pause. “If he doesn’t then we’ll just buy his next meal to make up for it.”

Cackling, you peck his face, over and over until he pushes you away in a jokeful manner. “This is why I love you, Lando Norris!”

And he’s content, admiring the way you pack happily. He’s never seen someone so giddy to spend fourteen hours on a plane just to curl into the comfort of their bed. He’s just never seen or met anyone like you. 

It was perfect.

-

As soon as he picks up his own digital camera, he’s in love. Part of you would be jealous, definitely, if it weren’t for him stopping to take a thousand pictures of you. One in the McLaren garage, next to his car. One where you balance yourself on a swing, eventually falling straight onto your face. One of your newly bruised nose, due to the fall. One where you’re sleeping, drooling like a—

“Delete that, I don’t even want to see it!”

Shaking his head full of curls, he runs away. “No! I happen to love it!”

“Lando!”

“You look adorable.”

“Fuck you, I’m leaving. Spend the night alone, loser.”

You don’t end up keeping your word. You get your revenge, eventually, when you pie him in his sleep. He nearly chokes, but it’s all in good fun, according to you. 

But neither of you would have it any other way. You just happen to be his muse. 

-

His greediness starts to show overnight, nearly. It catches you off guard, leaving you like a lost dog. The worst part is that it’s not directed directly at you, per se, but it felt like it. Most of the time, you’d deal with this by talking to him until he calms down, by making him a cup chamomile tea, because—

“It doesn’t help!” He paces the small room, throwing his gloves harshly against the wall. 

“Studies prove—”

“Studies my ass.” An angry huff. “I just need to be alone. For a while.”

And it also catches you off guard how you don’t fight him back on it. Instead, you’re glad, fleeing out the door, straight to God knows where. Strolling, you twist and turn the thin band. 

Where are you going?

“You said you wanted to be…” Except it’s not Lando. George quirks a dark brow. You gulp, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…” A painful pause. “I thought you were Lando.”

“Must be the accent.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Carmen actually made me chase you down. Said she wants your opinion with something about the wedding. You know her—perfectionist.”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” Throwing your hair over your shoulder, you beam brighter this time, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I have plenty of time.”

He’s rude when he finds you. Well, not really, but even your friends notice it. I’m telling him to wear a simple black and white suit. A bow or a tie, he can decide, but he’s insisting on wearing white and I’m like hello? You giggle, orbs moving to find George with a playful glare. 

“Why can you be the only one wearing white? It’s this some kind of rule or?”

“No, but it’s weird!” Carmen turns to face you, desperate eyes begging for backup. “Come on! Tell him it’s weird.”

Plump lips flicker upward. “I don’t know, George, it is a b—”

“Awful. You’re going to steal all the attention away from Caren and you’re going to look horrible. Just go with a traditional suit.”

The Mercedes driver doesn’t pay any attention to what was just said to him, but you and Carmen do, and that’s probably worse. You can tell she’s bothered by your boyfriend's unwanted opinion and for him going after her fiancé, so you briskly stand up. “Sweetheart, are you, um…ready to go?”

The Brit nods, fixing his bag that lays over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m here, no? Could have let me know you were leaving, too.” There’s tension in his voice; annoyance. “Also, I forgot your bag. I’ll wait for you here.”

His implication makes you queasy. You blink hastily. “Of course.” Turning to the older couple, you smile politely. “Um…text me, yeah? Let me know what you two decide on.”

Once you rush off, Carmen narrows her usually kind eyes, hard. George is quick, placing a steady hand onto her lap, and clears his throat. “You know, just because you didn’t place a podium for once doesn’t mean you get to act like a jerk. Seriously.”

Lando chooses to ignore his comment, bidding goodbye, and strolls over to find you, flustered. “Now I’m ready,” you confirm with a weak smile. The Brit laces his fingers through yours and brings it up to his mouth, pressing a warm kiss. 

“You know I love you, right?”

“I do. I do know.”

-

He’s trying to be more gentle, you can tell. With his words, with his actions. It reminds you why you chose him. He had apologized after a quiet night, settling with what he had done. How he had treated you and his friends. George is quick to accept his apology, and you were too.

“I didn’t mean it,” he groans quietly, chest pressed against yours as you ride him. “I s-shouldn’t have—fuck.” The way you clench around him tightly makes his head spin. A whine escapes your swollen lips as you nod, fast, then slow, then staggered. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you pant, finally opening your eyes to find him already looking up at you. He squeezes your hips harder, keeping you firm. “You were upset, that’s all. I get it.”

She gets it, he remembers thinking, considering himself lucky for having a girlfriend who understands. His highs. His lows. His wins. He loses. This—this is why you were the one. 

But once again, his lack of display is what reluctantly pushes you away.

Then back in.

-

It’s been three months of him not even picking up his camera. Maybe he’s just too lazy to develop his pictures, so you do it for him. There’s really no excuse. That’s what you say with light humor when you push it towards his chest, but he only cocks his head to the side. “I never asked for you to do that.”

Your stomach churns. You lick your chapped lips. “You don’t need to. I just…did it. Thought it might help get you out of your slump.”

This pushes something in him as he narrows his brows like a set of sharp knives. “Slump?” A scoff. “What? Because I haven’t been able to get a win?”

“What?” You’re dazed. “No.” You’re confused. “No, why would you say that?” 

“I don’t know—why would you?”

“I mean it because you’ve been down, that’s it. Not because…” When his eyes don’t change, and your heart continues to pound, you flip him a smile. “You’re right. My choice of words weren’t the best. I’m sorry.”

The blue eyed boy clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth once, then sets the camera to his side. “Whatever, it’s fine, I guess.” And suddenly he’s making his way to his gaming room, leaving you with wide eyes and a bruised heart. 

“Wait!” Carefully, you pick up the small camera, extending it out towards him. “Wh-what do you want me to do? Should I pack it into your suitcase? Or maybe I could—”

“Pack it, yes, but into a box and put it in the attic.” He continues his march. “I lost interest a long time ago, either way.”

You’re not dazed. You’re not confused. 

You’re broken hearted.

-

You would think that you would have learned by now. He loves you, damn it. He’s just having a tough time proving it, but it’s fine, stuff like this happens all the time.

“Hello, darling,” Carmen greets, pulling you away from your trance. The camera  pans over to Lance, Carlos, and Lando. She gingerly takes the spot next to you. “Feeling alright? Lost a bit of weight and color.” Her concern can’t be hidden behind even the tallest mountain. 

Been working out. London is gloomy all day long. Haven’t gotten proper Vitamin D. Looking down onto your lap, you twirl your fingers. Over and under, over and under, over and un—

Her hands feel warm against yours and you can’t help but flinch, instinctively needing to pull away, but she holds on tighter. Not even your boyfriend's hands have felt as warm as hers; not in a very long time. “You can talk to me. Anytime.” Eyes remain downward, watering, so, like most nights before bed, you blink them away. Hard, fast, and cruel. 

“Have you chosen the song you want to be for your guys’ first dance?”

She remains still for a second, focuses directly into your soul and you blink faster before she has a chance to decode you. She always did. “We have. My Funny Valentine. Hear this, Daniel wants to sing it. With a band and the whole thing. Nightmare.”

And you’re glad for having her stories to distract you from your feelings, because silly is what they are. Childish. False. It’s only until the end of the race where you two realize you hadn’t been paying attention. As soon as George walks in through those doors, he jumps up and down. “Hey. Top five!”

“That’s my boy!”

You feel like a creep watching them kiss with sweet emotion you can’t help but miss and crave. Your eyes flicker over to the flat screen T.V. and you’re shooting up from your seat. “Shit! I have to go!” 

He’s in the middle of a speech of some sort when you rush in gasping for air. Sheepishly, you wave, then scoot closer to Zak who gives you a quick side hug. Everyone claps and then he’s making his way to—

Not you. 

First it’s Zak, then he squeezes by. Then it’s his entire team. Then it’s Oscar. Then it’s Carlos, which is the last straw because he’s not even supposed to be here. “Mind if I squeeze in?” you squeak. The Spaniard shakes his head.

“Be my guest. I should leave anyway.” “Are you sure?” Lando quips. “Why don’t you stay?”

Brown pity eyes dance over to where you look down, then settle with a wobbly smile. “I, um…I actually have a few emails to respond to. Stay, Carlos.” It’s pathetic and embarrassing how he’s the only one who convinces you to stick around. Not even your own boyfriend. Though his hand remains by your side, it feels all for show, which it is because as soon as a few fans take a couple of pictures of you two, he finally retreats his arm.

Once the Ferrari driver finally jogs away, Lando turns to face you. “Where were you?”

“I was watching the race.” Your heart beats faster.

“Liar. Your lips just did the thing.” A halt. “What thing?”

“There! There it is again! You didn’t watch it, did you?”

Taking his palms into your own, you kiss them, feverishly. “I was, but then Carmen came over, and we started to talk, and then one thing led to another and…” Blue eyes stare down, empty. You grimace. “I’m so sorry, Lando. You got second place and I wasn’t there to celebrate. I’m so sorry.”

And perhaps he feels he already made you suffer enough with his ignorance, or maybe he was still high off his accomplishment, but it surprises you when he leans down to peck your forehead. “Just don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

You let out a breath of relief. “Pinky swear.”

He laughs, ruffling your hair. “Ah, see, I don’t believe in pinky promises.”

“Take my word for it then.”

He winks. “Good enough.”

-

I can’t believe we haven’t had a sunny day in weeks! Flipping over to face him, you pout. Weeks! That’s bonkers.

The Brit hums against his blankets, against you. It’s officially been a year since you two have been dating and it honestly felt surreal. Especially in moments like these. The kind where he was just yours. 

I tried to warn you.

You groan, pressing your cheek against his firm chest. His heartbeat is slow and steady, indicating he’s half asleep, indicating you were too awake. Indicating you should probably go to sleep, too. 

Guess I’ll just have to learn to live with it. 

Guess so.

You know…I sort of love it.

You say so because you haven’t lived here your whole life.

I could easily, you want to confess. If it’s with you, then yes, I can. But it’s too soon and you don’t want to scare him off. Not when things were a dream. Cloudy, sunny, rainy, sunshine—I don’t care. I have a good enough reason to stay. 

He vibrates due to his chuckle and you giggle due to his chuckle. Look at you being all cute.

Not trying to be cute, just speaking my truth. 

In one motion, he flips over you, hovering. You love it? Like truly? 

I love it. I truly love it.

Make me believe it.

Are my words not enough?

He grins, eyes crinkling. I’m more of a pinky promise type of guy.

You lift your small finger and he’s fast to wrap his own around it. Pinky swear. I love you and London.

And it was true. It was true for a while.

-

It all came crashing down on you, really. It was alarming, yet you had expected it. It was lonely, but survivable. It came in phases. You first noticed the doubt a bit after your third year anniversary, but no, he loves me. I know he does. 

But you were good at pushing it all away; far, far, and further. Until you couldn't think about it anymore, even if you tried. His acts were a suck punch, though. Everytime you started to heal and stand up, he only sent a new one. A stronger one. But, hey, no—he loves me. He only says it every night.

Like last Monday night. When he fucked you in his hotel room.

Or last Thursday. When he went down on you under the table.

Or Friday. When you sucked his cock in the shower.

All right before bed.

God, I fucking love you so much. Hot cum shoots down your throat and he groans like a madman. Love you so, so much. You can’t even begin to imagine. 

So, when your friends ask and check up on you, that's what you say. Yes, he reminds me everyday. He means it. Don’t worry, we’re doing better than ever.

The second comes in like a slap to the face. He had just done what you consider a low blow, but no—he’ll make up for it. He always does.

“Bullshit.” You blink your hot tears away. Carmen never—ever—curses. She’s too classy for any of that, so it’s almost funny to hear it now. But it’s not, not really. She sighs, rubbing her temples. You and your problems were stressing her out, God, how could you be so selfish?

“Forget I said anything. I’m being a fucking crybaby—”

“No. You’re not.” It seems like she’s choosing her choice of words, delicately. “You have every right to be upset. Every. Single. Right.”

And for the first time in a while, you feel completely seen. Heard. Understood. And that was a lot, but it must have been what you needed, because suddenly, you were spilling the ugly truth. The reason why you didn’t attend the last race. Or the one before that one. 

The reason why she and George found you clutching onto your chest that night in Vegas. Forgot my keys, you giggled. You two have fun! Don’t worry about me. 

Carmen is older, wiser, and so fucking mature. You love it. But you hate it because now that you sit here with more of an open mind and less defense, you blink like a lost kid at the grocery store. “You love him.”

A whimper. “I adore him.”

“A lot?”

“Infinitely.”

“But?”

Another whimper, louder this time, more wet. “He makes me sad sometimes. Is that normal?” “It is—” And it’s the delusion that always makes you stay. You’re quick to swallow it down, eager and fast. It’s all you need to hear. Carmen shakes her head. “But not to this extent. You get sad over them forgetting your favorite drink order, or when they forget to pack your heels.” An unwanted pause. The kind that gives you the room to overthink. “Not because they locked you out. Or because they forgot your anniversary.”

And she won’t admit—not when you were already so broken—but Lando hadn’t forgotten. 

She likes wine, fuck, she’s obsessed with that sparkly shit. Wine testing! We could go wine tasting and I could do it there. He twidles with the ring box. Is that good?

George raises a playful brow before releasing a laugh. It sounds great. As long as you have a nice place to take Instagram pictures, then you’re set to go. Chicks love that. Isn’t that right, love?

But she pinches her lips, forcing a smile to the younger Brit. Lando lets out a shaky breath. It’s about to be our four year anniversary—it’ll be perfect. I’ll make sure.

So, yes, she knows he loves you. But that still doesn’t make the way he treats you right. What kind of love was that? Sobbing loudly, you push your hair back. “But you don’t get it! When he’s good…” Her eyes soften and yours grows more glassy. “...he’s so good.”

“Is it worth the pain, though?”

-

The third one is the breaking point you had been avoiding for so long. The day started out gray, either way, and not just because of the dark London weather. Dragging your feet to the end of the bed, you tremble. You got the call at four a.m. and those are never good, so why were you shocked to hear from Benny’s son?

“Oh, baby…” He pulls you atop his lap, kissing your temple. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“I still owe him a surfboard. The expensive kind, too.” He quirks a confused brow, but you continue staring off into space. “They stole the last one. The one he always lent to me. His mom had gifted it to him.”

“When did this happen?” he questions, trying to keep you talking because that sounds like a good idea. To get your mind off things. 

You hum. “Last January; his birthday weekend.”

“Birthday weekend? I don’t recall—” “You weren’t there.” He doesn’t have to remember to know that’s true. It's become a habit of his nowadays and now he’s feeling guilty. Another hum, this time sadder than the prior. “He was going to teach you how to grill steak, just the way I like it.”

His stomach churns. “And how do you like it?” A beat. “I don’t remember. Ask Benny.” Then you’re crying like a newborn.Worse, actually. But he holds you through it all. So maybe this was do-able. He was nice, after all. You could stick with him forever and you’d be grateful. After what seems like a decade, you finally calm down, though your nose keeps runny. “The funeral is later this week. Are we going?” You were, with no fucking doubt, but you just wanted him to say it. There— on the tip of his tongue. You can spot it and he could taste it.

“Sweetheart…you know I have a race.” You didn’t expect him to drop everything and venture off with you, but this cut deep. Still, you understood. Plus, the proposal was ditched the moment you got the eerie call. So, yes, everything was unbalanced, but it wasn’t your guys’ fault. It was just a twist of fate. Nothing you couldn’t handle; you’ve dealt with worse.

“Right. I can go by myself.” He feels bad—you know he does—but anything, really? “You can write a letter, maybe? Just a couple of words for his family. I know it’ll mean a lot.”

He chuckles. And you should have known at that very moment because it wasn’t one you’ve heard before. “Why would I? I barely even knew the guy.”

“Excuse me?” 

The Brit continues tracing shapes onto your thigh. “I’m just saying! It sounds a bit weird coming from someone who spoke to him once. Twice at best.”

And you’re no longer dazed, no longer confused, no longer heartbroken. 

You’re just angry.

Pushing yourself off him, you glare coldly. “Barely even knew…the guy? We Skyped with him over dinner! You paid his bills! You fucking attended his sons wedding! How could you be so…fucked.”

“Sure… He was a sweet lad, but do you really think they want to hear from me?”

“Maybe not, maybe they don’t give a flying fuck, but I do. Remind me why I loved you!”

He’s up now. His heart quickens, pierces through his skin. “Loved?”

You sigh, clutching your chest. “Love. I said love.”

A huff. “No, you definitely spoke in past tense—do you not love me anymore?”

“Lando…” “No. Just be upfront with me, I can handle it. Tell me now so I don’t waste my time any longer.”

Every uncertainty you ever had, every word of advice Carmen has given you comes crashing down. She was right. He’s keeping you around for good fun. For his benefit. “Your time? What about mine? You’re the one who’s been blocking me out these past couple months!” “That’s not true—”

“Fuck, you’re right—this past year. God Lando! Haven’t you noticed how good I am at apologizing now? My zombie appearance? You left me out in the hallway! All because of what? Because I didn’t tell you I was going out with the girls?” A sour laugh. “Wake up—it’s 2024. Since when are you a shitty masochist?”

His jaw clenched. “I was worried about you! It was fucking Vegas, what was I supposed to do? And for the love of God, this again. I. Didn’t. Hear. You. Knock.”

A peach seed forms onto your chin. Skin is flushed and tears stream down your face. But he’s fine. He’s tall and firm Hard headed. Without an ounce of regret. And you want to do it. You want to make him feel what you’ve felt.

“I got my degree…”

“Woo-fucking-hoo, we’re not talking about that right now.”

“I lived a few good years, filled with pure happiness.”

He pauses. 

“But I see it now. Past all the gray clouds, I see it.” He can feel it coming and he’s desperate for you not to say it aloud, but you shrug it, face downward. “Nothing is holding me back to stay.”

His tone washes away like the Laguna waves as he gets closer to you, cradling your face. “Yes. Yes you do. You have me…”

“Lando, quit lying—I haven’t for a while now. I was just a trophy you didn’t want. One you got bored of.”

“That’s not—” “True?” A beat. “It is. And you know what also is? I don’t love you anymore.” The light in his eyes gave out, pitch black. He feels as if he’s going into cardiac arrest and you…you look at ease. Peaceful. Free. With a soft smile, you push his hands down. “I don’t think you love me anymore, either.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads. “Please, don’t say that. Of course I love you.” Rushing over to his nightstand, he pulls out a box you only ever dreamt of. “You want proof—here! Take it! It’s yours anyways.”

“Where was this a year ago?” Opening the velvet box, you’re left with an inaudible gasp because of course it was gorgeous. And he feels a gist of hope when you place it onto your ring finger, but he slowly pales when it doesn’t fit.

“No. No. That’s your size. I know it is.” He takes it from you, analyzing it in an accusing manner. “I swear it was, I pinky…” The heater kicks on. “I swear.”

“It’s alright. This is the right ring…just not for me.” It shouldn’t affect you to see his cheeks grow splotchy, to hear his voice tremble like a kid who just skinned his knee against the pavement. But he was once your other half, so it does. 

“I don’t want you to go…”

“I don’t either. I loved being here.”

“Then stay.” You purse your lips, then scrunch your nose. “It doesn’t love me, though. And I can’t go unwanted.”

If we start saving enough money then we could buy the house—you know—the one close enough to drive to your parents? Sweet, no?

Won’t they hear us fuck? 

Ew, gross. No. I’d tape your mouth before I let that happen. You pinch his ear. This is your home.

And SoCal is yours, so why don’t we move there?

Because I don’t want to. I want to be with you and the people you love, in the place you love. Because I love you and I love the people you love, and I love London. 

You’re quite literally perfect. I hope you know.

You make it clear everyday. 

And I won’t ever stop. Because you deserve to know.

“This place is cold, the way you said it was. This place is gloomy, the way you said it was. But this place isn’t a home to me anymore…the way I once thought it was.”

Should he have been more careful—more caring—then he wouldn’t be here. This wouldn’t be happening, but it is. And it’s no one’s fault but his.

Sniffing, you rub your swollen eyes. “I’m going to pack my things and go to Benny’s funeral.” It's a declaration. He nods, attentively. “And I’m not coming back. Is that okay?”

No. It wasn’t okay. You’re tearing him in half, you’re stabbing his heart over and over again. You’re telling the truth and putting yourself first. Something he was awful at doing. What brought you two to this very moment in time.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I treated you the way I did.” I love you. “But if that’s your decision, then go on. Do what you need to do.” I love you. 

“Good.” I love you. But I can’t say it aloud if not I’d stay forever. 

You smile and he smiles back.

“Good.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[magics-neptunes-things]

Shinning Like the Sun

Hi guys!

I have the new chant for Mariona in my head since yesterday, so this is my way to try to get ride of it 😂

It's kind of short and only fluff, I hope you'll enjoy it :)

Also if someone can tell me who make those gif, I try to find it back on Tumblr but I wasn't able to 😭

You smile while watching your girlfriend, walking behind her for twenty meters. You both just won your second game with Arsenal for the Champions League, and you feel like Mariona is literally glowing.

She’s walking with Vic, Vivienne Lia and Laia, all happily japing around. You know that she might be a little disappointed not to have scored today either, but she seems so happy right now that your heart clench with love for her.

Her move in north London had surprise a lot of people, she passed ten years of her life in Barcelona, in the same club. She was a very important player for the club, but she still chooses to come in Arsenal. You won’t complain about it, having your girlfriend after two years of being apart is something you really enjoy.

You both had a long discussion before her move, you wanted to be sure that she’s making this for the good reasons, not only for you. You were scared, you still are, that she realizes at one point how it was better when you just have the happily reunions and fun and sweet holidays together.

It seems to be perfect for now, but you are living apart of each other, even if you have to admit that the night you slept separately weren’t majority. Far from it to be honest.

It’s for the same reasons that you stay away from her for now, letting her enjoy her moment with the people who seems to become easily friends with her. You aren’t surprised, Mariona is sweet, kind, funny and always smiling. You feel like she took Barcelona’s sun with her.

“Staying away from the missus?”

You turn in the direction of the voice, smiling softly when you see Katie and Caitlin walking next to you. You shrug softly, you know it’s only a friendly teasing. They both tried to hide their relationship last year, before giving up and living their life like they wanted. It seems to be a pretty great idea, considering how happy they are.

“I just want to let her live her moment; you know?”

They both smile for any answer, and you look in Mario’s direction again. She’s now laughing with Alessia about something, probably the song Arsenal’s fan cooked for her. It probably will stay in your head for days, but you like it for now.

You walk around the pitch with Alessia and Kyra, before joining the rest of the team to hear a quick speech from Jonas. Leah smiles at you and pinch your ribs, like she always did when you played together and played well. It was the case today, you are pretty happy about your performance tonight.

When Jonas release all of you, Gooners are waiting for pictures and signatures, which you do happily. There are more people than when you began to play, but you like make people and kids happy. It’s only several minutes of your time and you enjoy it almost every time. You manage to spot the creeps pretty easily.

You gave your jersey to a little girl with cute blue eyes and a big smile, and you are in a black sport bra when you finally went to the locker room to take a shower and change. You spot Mariona not far from you, making her way probably in the same place and run to catch her.

When you are behind her, you pass your arms around her waist, tiptoeing to be able to kiss her cheek from behind. Her smile is beaming, and you are smiling too.

“Shake it Caldentey” you sing-tease her, your cheek against hers, your front against her back.

She laughs and manages to escape your arms, only to take her coat off. The weather isn’t awful tonight but it’s still way colder than Barcelona, so you aren’t surprised to see Mario wearing one of them. You didn’t expect her to put it on your shoulders, though.

“Aren’t you cold?” you ask, tightening the number 8’s coat around your body.

“A little, but you are the one half-naked here”

You hum and offer her one arm for her to side-cuddle while walking inside the tunnel going to the locker room. She doesn’t hesitate to go against you, and you went to kiss her cheek but sloppily went for somewhere behind her jaw and her neck. For your defense, you both were walking.

The Spaniard doesn’t seem to mind though, passing her arm around your waist for the last meters separating you from the locker room. You can hear the laughs and the music coming from it already.

You let Mariona go with a hint of regret when you are inside it, but you are soon taken by Kyra to dance around the room. Steph manages to save you from her after several minutes, letting you go take a shower. When you finish to prepare yourself, Mariona comes to sit on your cubby, quietly waiting for you.

“Are you both coming to have a drink?” Kyra asks you, suddenly popping next to you again.

“Oh” you say, glancing at Mariona.

To be honest, you would rather go somewhere with your girlfriend only. Maybe ordering something and relax in front of a movie. But maybe Mariona wants to go out with your teammates, you don’t want to deprive her of a good night.

You silently look at each other for several seconds, you trying to read into your girlfriend’s warm eyes.

“I… think… that we will go home” you answer slowly, still looking at Mariona.

The forward smiles at you and nod discreetly, filling you with relief when you understand that you have managed to correctly decipher her thoughts and wants.

“Ok Oldies, like you want”

You shush Kyra away with a foot on her ass, turning in Mario’s direction. She’s smiling again and you sometimes wonder how she never gets to hurt her cheeks. She stands up when you put your last things in your bag and grabs your hand when you leave, saying goodbye to everyone.

Leah and Beth keep you company until you reach your car, sharing a small talk with you. The night has fall for several hours now and the streetlights are on when you drive to leave the stadium.

“Yours or mine?” you ask her.

“Yours” she doesn’t hesitate. “Can I put some music?”

“Of course.”

You smile and roll your eyes when she puts some Spanish music on your Spotify. Since you know her, your algorithm doesn’t have any sense, but you like it. It was always nice to have a reminder of your girlfriend when you were driving around and she still lived in Barcelona.

To win some time, Mario looks for what you want to eat when you will be home. You let her choose and she’s still smiling when she passes your command. When you finally reach your house, you sigh of complacency before getting out of the car. You are living in St-Albans, like a lot of your teammates, in a semi-detached house with a garden.

You abandon your bag with your dirty clothes in the bathroom, choosing to make the laundry tomorrow. Mariona’s bag is waiting next to yours.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken a flat finally” Mariona comments with a grin from your couch.

You smile too, sitting next to her before cuddling against her. Her body is always warm and welcoming for you and you love it. You usually are more cold than warm so it’s the perfect contrast for you. You smile when she passes her hand under your hoodie, snuggling even more closer to her. You take advantage of your position to look at her, prodigiously ignoring the movie she had choose.

“You seem happy” you say carefully, not wanting to assume things.

She puts her eyes on you and smile softly before putting some hair behind your ear. Her touch send you shivers. She could have understand your sentence as happy right now, but she seems to catch what you mean easily.

“I am” she smiles. “It was hard to leave Barcelona after all this time, but London has even more to offer than I thought”

“Yeah?”

She nods, still smiling. You are looking deep in her eyes when you open your mouth again.

“So still no regrets?”

“No.”

Her hand stayed on your neck after she touch your hair and she uses it to take softly your face against her, kissing you lovingly. While you expend the kiss, she strokes your jaw with her thumb.

“I told you, I was sure it was what I needed. It’s not a surprise for me to see I was right.”

You smile shyly and kiss her one more time before getting back in your first position, you spread on her body. Unfortunately, this moment doesn’t last because soon the bell of your door is ringing in the house, making you jump.

“El sushi está aquí!”

You smile while looking at your girlfriend almost jumping to the door and gets up to go to your kitchen, to grab some extra soja sauce for the sushis. Salty for you, sweet for Mariona. You grab some things to drink too, finding Mariona on your couch, carefully opening the boxes she had choose. You let her decide, you have almost the same tastes for food. Except for soja sauce, maybe.

“I’ll cook something Spanish for you next time” Mariona says after several minutes.

You like to cook to be honest, but just after the games you don’t have necessarily the courage to do it. It’s easier to just use Uber Eat and chill on your couch while you are waiting for your food.

“I’ll help you” you smile.

Like this, you will be able to cook for her too. You don’t know any Spanish receipt but it’s not really a good excuse, you have a Smartphone, and you know how to read. Maybe you could surprise her with a tortilla or something like that. You really need to extend your knowledge on Spanish cooking.

That’s what you discreetly do when your plates are empty, and you are watching another movie. Mariona is now lying on you, her breathing slow and deep, informing you that she might have fall asleep. But you don’t mind.

Playing with her hair with one hand, you are scrolling in a website dedicated to Spain food and you learn a lot of things. Remembering where exactly your girlfriend comes from, you even search for specialties from Mallorca. You might not be able to find every ingredient of the receipts, but you will try your best to bring her some Spain touch in North London.

[adviceformefromme]

💖TRUSTING YOUR INNER VOICE - 3 MONTHS UNTIL 2025 - GLOW UP SERIES [WEEK 12] - 💖

Your life can drastically change in three months, and this is coming from someone who started last October unexpectedly in hospital everyday for three weeks, to then leave London and move back home and share a ROOM with my mom due to space issues and by the end of the whirlwind I finally got to move into my dream ocean view apartment in Europe. ALL WITHIN 3 MONTHS. How did I transform my life? What remained consistent was my inner voice, leading me towards faith and not fear. Being able to hear God’s direction and having the courage to take a leap into the unknown at each twist and turn. So no matter where you start this October, trust and know that miracles are possible, and if you stay true to where you are being guided you will end up exactly where you need to be. 

UNDERSTANDING WHAT VOICE IS GUIDING YOU…

Are you leaning into fear or into faith? Each day, are you sticking to what you know or are you taking risks? Are you using your voice to speak up when you’re usually quiet? Are you still remaining true to your vision despite not seeing the results in the 3D? Are you trying to control situations feeling anxious and stuck, or are you remaining trusting and faithful to the visions God has placed in your heart? If you find fear is guiding your life, your TRANSFORMATION is going to a struggle, there is going to be friction, and this is where you need to get out of your own way. God wants to move you somewhere you’ve never been, you’ve been doing your vision boards, affirmations, praying, reading, trying your very best to LEVEL-TF-UP, and STILL feeling stuck…and this is because your inner voice is holding you hostage to what you’ve known, to the old version of you, the expired version. These next 12 weeks are for tuning into a different frequency, to locking into God’s direction and here are the steps…

1] You need to meditate to create space in your mind to hear the voice that wants to lead you to your highest potential. It’s always there waiting for you to listen, in order to HEAR you need SPACE.. and to get space you need to meditate. The aim is 20 mins per day, if you’re already comfortable with this aim for 1 hour. I know this might sound like a scary amount of time to sit in silence but think how easily you can spend 20 mins on social media doom scrolling…Do you want to GLOW-UP or do you want to stay stuck? This is what you need to ask yourself daily…But please walk before you run, here is 10 mins meditation that is simple and transformative and will 100% allow you mental space so you can slowly throughout the day start to hear your inner voice - God speaking to you. 

2] Tune out of negativity (the news, low vibration music, gossip, scrolling through peoples highlight reel) and tune into high vibes… Listening to high vibes is going to move you energetically into a new space. There will be more peace and positivity. The high vibes include, morning motivation on YouTube find one that empowers you, cleansing your social media accounts of anything negative or deleting it full stop while you’re on your glow up journey. Listening to binaural beats, gospel, or anything that has empowering lyrics that lift you up. 

3] Once you have removed the low vibes you also want SILENT vibes, this means going for a walk without your phone. Waking up and not checking your phone for 1 hour, having as many moments of silence as possible, and this is when you will start to hear. You might hear negativity in your mind at first, it might be overbearing, the voice might be telling you how stupid you are, how pathetic you are, but PERSEVERE. Get curious on why you have this negativity in your mind, journal on what was coming up for you, you want to clear out the negativity so you can hear the inner wisdom that is waiting to flow in. 

4] PRAY FOR GUIDANCE. If you don’t have the direction, you are wanting to transform your life and don’t know what the next steps are, I promise you the moment you start praying and asking is the moment you receive the answers. It will come in the form of conversations, YouTube content creators will appear in your feed, you will have thoughts, dreams, a book will fall of a shelf, there will be direction from above. God wants to help you, you just have to ask and listen clearly for the answers. They will appear.

A little story time of my 3 month transformation from last October - December and how I completely transformed my life in that time…

Until next week, stay in your faith, your journal and remain hopeful that this time things are going to be different. Your transformation is in progress.

[taradactyls]

The full Bennet Family Finances endnote from Ch33

I’ve been doing some more maths (ch26 has the initial discussion) on the savings that our characters might do/should’ve done since it’s fascinating to me and some of the comments I’ve been getting have been making me think more about it. One of the common themes is surprise at just how negligent the Bennets were at saving, instead of merely being stretched thin by expenses. I understand this completely, as it isn’t something that’s explicit in an easily recognisable way for modern audiences.

So, where could they have been more economical? They don’t go to London, no one has a gambling addiction, all travelling (which was EXPENSIVE) is done cost effectively, and they certainly didn’t spend all the money on tutors and the like for their daughters. I’m sure there’s actual academic papers by historians on this (I miss my uni access to those so much) but I can take some educated guesses.

We know Mrs Bennet is just bad with household management. Part of which might mean ordering too much food (it’s mentioned she keeps a good table, so this is as close to canon as we can get) and perhaps not being efficient with what she does order, ie wanting different meats from night to night, instead of having the leftovers served as stews or whatnot, not keeping an eye on the prices of sugar, salt, etc to buy when they’re cheap, making special orders instead of purchasing what’s readily available, etc. We know none of the Bennet women assist in the kitchen (as the Lucases do) so that’s more work for servants and thus likely to contribute to the need of an extra servant or higher wages. Household management could also be more innocuous things like always buying the expensive bees-wax candles, instead of using tallow when guests aren’t around or in out-of-the-way rooms. And being inefficient with candle usage (this is likely a Mr Bennet flaw too, if he enjoys reading in his library at night) in order to have a room better lit than strictly necessary. There was a reason families all tended to gather in one room after dark, and the Bennets notably don’t. Also having fires in all the principal rooms instead of just the ones likely to be used that day. If there’s ways to be inefficient with funds when it comes to cleaning, I’m sure they found a way there, too. Basically, anything that requires forward planning to help with economy would be lacking.

 But that’s all ‘essentials’ just done inefficiently, what luxuries might they have had? They have the income to warrant their carriage, horses, and it seems Mr Bennet does hunt, but that’s also a standard expense for his wealth, so let’s focus on what might be pushing them to their limits. Other than the over-provisioned dining table, which we’ve mentioned, nothing about their socialising habits seems excessive. Mrs Bennet’s love of fashion could be pushing her wardrobe bill up, Mr Bennet’s love of books could be a VERY expensive hobby, and of course – five daughters out at once. Having five daughters out (especially unnecessarily as Lydia and even Kitty were quite young to be out) cost a LOT of money. Lady Catherine was rude as anything, but her surprise at the fact was warranted. Other than money, it also meant the daughters were in direct ‘competition’ for the same limited amount of suitors, which theoretically might hurt the elder girls’ chances. Five distinct wardrobes for young women which needed gowns for all occasions, going through dance shoes and gloves very quickly, bonnets, etc, all added up. At the start of the book multiple hundreds of pounds a year would be going to keeping their daughters looking the part while mixing in society.

But Jane’s only twenty-one or twenty-two at the start of the novel, and came out at fifteen at the earliest. Yet the Bennets still never saved money, and never overspent their income, so there were other expenses they were able to drop which had been preventing them from saving money for the first sixteen or so years of their marriage. I think it’s fair to assume there’s random, one-time bigger expenses that were undertaken with any substantial spare money: perhaps the hermitage Mrs Bennet mentions is a newer addition, was the coach (which are normally ordered around the start of a marriage) refitted more recently, how often is the décor of Longbourn updated (and on that note, are things like the sofa reupholstered or completely replaced), do they impulse buy vases and sculptures, make sure whatever alcohol they do buy (which appears to be a reasonable amount for their class) is the expensive stuff, etc. Whatever it is, it’s a both parent problem. Mrs Bennet is bad at money management and instead of changing her habits or preparing her daughters for financial hardship puts pressure on them to marry (preferably rich, but she doesn’t seem to have a complaint about Wickham in that regard). Mr Bennet is smart enough to see that there is a problem and how to fix it, but after his first idea fails (have a son to break the entail and thus provide for his widow and other children – which doesn’t even necessarily mean the girls would get a dowry, just that they would never live in poverty) does nothing to reassess the issue or find a solution. He essentially shrugs his shoulders and lets his daughters shift for themselves. One parent is too stressed about money and only addresses it negatively, and the other isn’t stressed enough and doesn’t address it seriously at all. Neither do anything productive, even though changing their habits would be enough to fix it. I love them, but MASSIVE parenting failure on their end; and hinted to occur because the parents were too used to comforts and different themselves to be able to work together and act on a solution.

Now for some actual MATHS! Which, yes, I realise I am strangely excited about.

The idea that most of the Bennets’ money is spent by having so many daughters out at once seems to keep popping up in my time on the internet. So, I thought it would be interesting to see what their dowries could be if that five-daughters-out-at-once money wasn’t spent on other things before any daughters were out. Costs of this could vary a bit between families, and though we know Lydia’s expenses were almost £100 per annum that includes board and food as well as little gifts from Mrs Bennet, so we can’t simply multiply that by five and be done with it. But, given Mrs Bennet’s desire for fashion and the poor financial management we see from her and some of her daughters, it’s quite possible clothes were being bought new rather than pulled apart and remade more than they ought to be, so spending £50 to £60 a year on each daughter being ‘out’ seems reasonable. For the purposes of this, let’s look at a total of £250 and £300 a year for all five, and in the 4%s because that’s where the money settled on Mrs Bennet apparently is. After sixteen years of marriage (when we will assume Jane comes out) that’s £5,456 or £6,547. Meaning that just doubled their dowry, even if they save nothing else after that. If the interest is left alone, that’s more than £1,000 that’s added to it before the novel even begins. Suddenly Mr Bennet dying at the start of the novel would leave his widow and daughters with between £11,500-£13,000 instead of the meagre £5,000 they actually have.

And the girls didn’t all come out at once, so just to put some numbers to it for math purposes, let’s say Elizabeth came out one year after Jane, Mary two years after her, Kitty another two years later, and Lydia the following year. For simplicity, each girl coming out is going to remove the same amount of money (when realistically it’s likely Jane, who needs everything new, and Lydia, who’s spoilt, would have cost the most). With the lower estimates of expenses, that’s £8,062 saved at the time of the novel, taking the total for Mrs Bennet and the girls to £13,602 or £2,612 each, assuming nothing else is saved. At the higher cost for the girls being out, that’s £9,676 saved and £14,676 that they’ll eventually inherit a share of. Still below what they should have as dowries, but a vast improvement, and proof of why having five daughters out at once was an additional strain but not THE strain. It was just another element in a mountain of problems.

“But what if it was in the 5%s?” asks no one but me. I think they would stick to the more stable bonds Mrs Bennet’s dowry is in, but if they didn’t, the same situation as above would save £9,243 (or £14,243 total) or £11,090 (£16,090 to share or £3,218 each).

For pure funsies, the numbers if Mr and Mrs Bennet had also saved the interest of the £5,000 settled upon her (which by itself would grow to £12,324 in the 4%s) in addition to these savings are:

£20,387 (£4,077 each at the start of the novel) with the £250 expenses estimate. At £300 for all five daughters out, we get to £21,998. Both of these numbers suddenly mean the Miss Bennets would never have to fear poverty when Mr Bennet died and they would individually each be as rich as their mother was, and though they wouldn’t be counted as rich themselves, would at least have something respectable. They might not cost their husbands money to marry.

AND THEN if everything is in the 5%s but that original £5,000, and the interest it gains is also moved to the higher interest account, the grand total would be either £22,528, again assuming the £250 expenses, and £24,376 at the £300 estimate.

I’ve been doing some equations for Darcy, too. So, let’s talk about that next chapter, to give me time to really figure it out.

[bethanydelleman]

I saw a post you reblogged at some point about Fanny being stuck in a time loop and it got me thinking: if the main men (both protagonists and antagonists) of the different Austen novels time travelled back to the day they first met their love interest/the start of the novel - whichever is latest so wentworth, knightley, and Edmund Bertram would travel to the day the main events of their novels start - who do you think would end up changing the least of the events and the most (intentionally or not)?

Because I feel like Knightley would change the least and Henry Tilney and the three S&S gents would come next. But like Wentworth would immediately throw the entire novel off track and like Darcy and Henry Crawford would come in close second trying to change their truly awful first impressions

(Also I just want to add that I really love your Austen takes and discussions 😊)

Thank you!

This is a fascinating idea. Here are my thoughts:

Wentworth just marches into Uppercross Cottage and proposes again. Doesn't even wait to be properly introduced to the family. He's getting Anne back NOW. (She says yes, of course)

I can imagine Darcy having a tiny little crisis as he decides if he really wants to be married to Elizabeth, maybe he could just not accompany Bingley to Netherfield and his life could go the way he planned... nah, he can't resist. Off to Netherfield he goes and he lets Bingley introduce him to Elizabeth at the assembly ball. Things progress unimpeded and by Christmas there is a double wedding and Wickham's character is known throughout Hertfordshire. He skips town and Lydia is packed off to Pemberley to benefit from some better society. (Side note: Mrs. Bennet would push Mr. Collins on Mary if she had any inclination that Darcy liked Elizabeth).

If Bingley knew everything, he'd never leave Jane. He'd return from London and marry her, no matter what Darcy or his sisters said. (I wrote that once actually)

Does Wickham count as a main? Because I don't want him having the ability to predict the future. Yikes on bikes!

Henry Crawford is very interesting, because does he actually understand where he went wrong? I'm not sure he does. Can he resist a flirtation with two very pretty sisters? That would be a fun fan fiction to write. Because if he went for Fanny right off the bat and she knew nothing else about him... he'd probably succeed with her, secret Edmund love or not. And she certainly wouldn't have a leg to stand on in refusing his proposal.

Does Edmund come back in the same timeline as Henry? That would be so agnsty! If not, he'd probably be doing whatever he could to keep Maria and Henry apart, but he's shockingly ineffective in canon, so would he even be able to change anything?

Henry Tilney would probably just try to prevent Catherine being sent home alone. He could easily come back early.

Mr. Knightley's best move would be to tell Robert Martin to propose in person. I doubt Harriet could have resisted. Then he could just sit back and watch everything else play out.

Honestly, I don't know if Frank Churchill would change a thing, other than making sure his final letter was posted to Jane. He enjoyed the subterfuge.

Poor Edward Ferrars has to travel back while engaged to Lucy? I feel like he wouldn't even want to relive the novel, there is nothing he can do anyway.

Colonel Brandon would probably change a lot. He could immediately save Eliza and challenge Willoughby. He might even spare Marianne from a lot of pain.

Reginald de Courcy (Lady Susan) would likely act as well and save Frederica earlier than in the novel.

[pookietv]

aquatic missile | arthurtv

had this idea that i thought was adorable so here

have a little arthur with a crush on a marine biologist !!!!

after arthur had moved to london, finally getting somewhat used to the area he had moved to, he had become slightly socially worn out from seeing his friends much more often, being exposed to many more social situations all whilst trying to unpack and organise his new flat.

so he had decided to abandon his responsibilities for the day to go to the aquarium, which was honestly one of the things he had been looking forward to most when moving to a bigger city then he was used to, the museums, zoos, and aquariums he could finally visit.

he was happy going alone, wanting to unwind, his headphones hanging from his neck, ready to play some music as he strolled through and gawked at all the sea life.

when he walked into the lobby, he noticed the place was quite empty, but it didn't wholly surprise him - it was 11am on a tuesday, most people were probably at work or school, and he had somewhat been glad it was empty.

he walked up to the desk, slightly looking up at the woman at the desk before back down to his feet for a moment.

the worker was quite pretty.

"hi, can i help you?" the woman spoke, in a sweetly helpful way.

"hello, i just wanted to get a ticket?" he said, a little quietly.

"just a one day general admission?" she asked, and he confirmed with a nod of his head.

"yeah, that sounds good to me," he nodded, his eyes slightly crinkling as he offered her a slightly awkward smile.

"have you been before? we have a little leaflet with a map in that might help if you'd like one, you can obviously just wander as you please but if theres specific things you'd like to see, they're all labelled in here," she offered, placing a small blue coloured leaflet on the desk, his fingers gently reaching to take it, nodding gratefully.

"oh, thank you, yeah.. i mean, i love all the sea creatures but i do really like the sharks," he admitted with a small laugh, and she nodded, giggling a little herself.

"oh, me too.. the sharks are my favourite by a mile, i even have a specific favourite shark, they actually let me name her," she smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"no way, really? what did you call her?" he asked, clearly interested.

"a little rogue but i called her missile," she said bashfully, and he laughed.

"that is very cool." he confirmed, and she blushed a little with a nod.

arthur handed her the money for the ticket, taking it from her with a small thanks as he headed his way into the aquarium.

he could easily spend hours in the aquarium, and he did, meandering slowly and stopping at each small fish that he could see, reading all the boards with the facts on, and by the time he had even looked down at his phone he noticed it was already 2pm, and he was approaching the shark section of the aquarium, a grin on his face at the prospect.

he had barely ran into anyone whilst walking through the winding path of the place, and in the shark section he could only see one person in the whole big area, a big glass tunnel, someone hunched over on a bench, eating and watching the sharks on the other side.

he began slowly walking around, his head focussed on looking up at the glass, watching the sharks swim around, even over his head when he was lucky before he heard noise.

"oh, hi again," a small familiar voice said, and he turned to the girl eating, who had lifted her head up - the worker from before.

"hello," he said, smiling a little, "must be very cool to be able to eat here on your lunch break," he joked a bit, and she nodded.

"uh huh, one of my favourite parts of the day, checking on missile... and of course all the other sharks, i love them all. though, feeding time is also pretty cool,"

"feeding them would be so cool," he nodded in confirmation. "which one is missile?" he asked curiously, and she grinned.

"the one that swam over your head before," she laughed slightly, putting down her box of pasta and standing up for a second, slightly closer to him before pointing upwards, at a spotted slightly smaller shark, "that's missile, she's a leopard shark,"

"what about the others? do you know all their names?" he asked, and she nodded, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"that's david, he's a lemon shark... that's haribo, he's a gummy shark, that ones called eve, she's a nurse shark... and the rest are hiding somewhere, but we have hammerheads, angel sharks and cow sharks hiding round here somewhere," she laughed a little, shrugging, "some of them like the attention more then others,"

"so you're really interested in sharks? or is it just a thing where you know a lot from working near them?" arthur asked, and she nodded again.

"i studied marine biology, i usually work more behind the scenes but on quiet days i work behind the desk too, but yeah, i love sharks, and just sea animals on a whole... i mean, i even have a shark tattoo," she giggled. "what about you, you just here to see them or do you have an interest?"

"oh, um, i have an interest in animals in general, and i just moved to london, so i wanted to come see the aquarium 'cause i've never been before," he admitted, and she nodded.

"i do love the aquarium, it's so peaceful, i mean sometimes i come in even on my days off, which in most jobs seems so bizarre but, i don't know, i just love it here."

and that's how arthur ended up frequenting the aquarium more than he intended to, over the past month going at least six times, enjoying the aquarium (and secretly hoping to run into the girl who he had become just a small bit infatuated with but had only admitted that to his close friends, who in turn obviously mocked him)

"you literally don't even know this girls name," george laughed when arthur had admitted he may have had a tiny crush on her after telling them about going to the aquarium for the fourth time in two weeks.

"well, obviously i know that, but i mean, i can't find out unless i see her again, can i?"

"only arthur could go to an aquarium and randomly fall in love with a girl just because she spoke to him about sharks," chris said sarcastically, and arthur rolled his eyes at him, his face red.

"she was cool, okay? she literally gets to name and feed and pet sharks, that is cool!" he defended himself in a splutter of embarrassment, only leading to slightly more giggles

when he next went, and he had paid for his ticket with someone else at the desk, and began his wander around the museum, he heard a slightly teasing voice once in the shark exhibit.

"you know, you could have saved yourself a lot of money if you had just bought a monthly pass," a giggling voice said, and he turned around to her with a slightly red face and a shrug.

"didn't realise i was gonna end up coming so much," he admitted with flushed cheeks.

"just become obsessed with the sharks, eh?" she asked, and he gulped down with another shy nod.

"uh huh. and, um. well, kinda hoping to run into you, also," he acknowledged, only to hear her laugh a little more.

"stalking me now, are you?" she asked, only to make his eyes widen

"no, not like that! just that, you know, i thought you were interesting and that-" she laughed a little harder now,

"i'm just kidding, don't worry about it. you do know there's other ways to see girls you find interesting other then hoping to bump into them at work?" she teased.

"well, that's what i was hoping to ask, you know... if i could maybe see you not in the shark section of the aquarium? like a date?" he asked, fiddling with his fingers a little.

"sure, that sounds nice," she smiled at him, "though, you don't even know my name," she teased.

"well, what is your name?" arthur asked, slight more confidence in his voice and a small smile on his face, slightly reassured that she had said yes.

"whats yours? i mean, for all i know you're some stalker who frequents aquariums looking for victims," she teased, leading him to jokingly roll his eyes.

"my name is arthur, and i promise it was not stalking... just thought you were smart, and pretty, so.. what's your name?"

"suppose you'll have to find that out on the date, hm, arthur?

[ineffable-suffering]

Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles

This has been living in my silly head rent free for so long, I finally decided to slap it on here in hopes of thinking about it a little less (than three times a day. It's been years. I need to get over it.)

Also, I'm absolutely certain I'm not even remotely the first person to realize or post about this, since it's not the hardest of parallels to figure out. Alas, I still shall, because out of mind, out of sight and all that. So:

Let's talk about how Crowley is using his houseplants to work through his own Trauma of the Fall. Or, well, maybe not work through it per se, but more so roleplay it to give it somewhat of an an outlet because he never got over it. Lol.

It's not rocket science to figure it out and God Herself actually gives us a pretty spot-on explanation of it in her own narration.

Crowley's plants are perfect. They're, as God Herself tells us, the most luxurious and beautiful in all of London. He takes great care of them, waters them, mists them. Does any and everything to give them the perfect conditions so they won't have a worry in the world.

And yet, we're immediately shown that despite the seemingly perfect conditions they're living in, Crowley's plants still get *gasps quietly* spots. And we all know how Crowley feels about that:

It seems like such an unnecessary tiny thing to get upset about, right? Like, plants get spots all the time. They're not perfect, they're part of nature and nothing is ever perfect in nature. Crowley would know that by now. Imperfection is the whole point of nature. If everything had stayed exactly the way it always was, nothing would have ever changed or evolved.

Besides, Crowley is a demon. If it were merely about aesthetics to him, he could easily miracle away any spot with a blink of his serpent eyes. But he gets so angry about it, it's almost comical. At first we think it's just to show us, the audience, that, in contrast to Aziraphale, who cares very dearly and lovingly for his books, Crowley is a mean, mean demon who, instead of being outwardly nice to the things he loves (like Aziraphale does), yells at his plants because he's a mean meanie.

But! If you look at the whole scene and what God says, it's pretty obvious what he's actually doing is something else entirely: "What Crowley does is he puts the fear of God in them. Or, the fear of Crowley. The plants are the most luxurious and beautiful in London. Also the most scared."

Folks, this man dude serpent is literally roleplaying the concept of God/Heaven threatening angels with their Fall in order to keep them obedient ... with his houseplants.

Have I mentioned yet that I am absolutely obsessed with him and also desperately wanna get him a therapy voucher?

Because what does he do once he sees a plant disobeying his rules of perfection and acting out? The same thing God did to her questioning, equally disobedient angels (including Crowley): Parade it in front of the very scared rest, making an example of it ...

... only to then, well ...

... quite literally chuck it out.

To anyone else, this seems like a completely ridiculous thing to do over a tiny, minuscule spot. There would have been a bunch of other ways to go about fixing that spot.

Figuring out what it was the plant needed that might not have been given to it yet.

Taking care of it in a different, individual way so it would have been able to thrive again.

Listening to the plant and letting it tell you why its spot appeared in the first place.

Telling the plant, that loves and relies on you entirely, you love it too, despite it not being without fault, despite of it not fully living up to your unreachable standards of perfection.

Caring for the plant not because you want it to be perfect, but because you're okay with it being imperfect.

(We're no longer talking about plants here, as you are probably aware.)

Alas, this isn't what Crowley does. Because it wasn't what God did, either. We still know very little about Crowley's actual Fall and the Fall of Lucifer and the rest. But we do know that Crowley was never like or even with them.

All he did was ask some questions. A tiny spot. A seemingly insignificant blemish in the luxurious, beautiful flora of Heaven.

And yet, before he knew it, he did a "million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur". Cast out, chucked away, just like his little spotty plant. And for what? Well ...

... to keep the others angels plants check, for the rest of time.

***

(Addendum from the comments: If we go by what the book tells us, Crowley doesn’t actually end up violently throwing out the ‚bad‘ plants. He just finds a different place for them and makes sure they‘re looked after. So much to him being a big, bad, meanie-mean demon.)

[melodic-haze]

Could you maybe do nsfw hcs for Jinhsi?

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!Jinhsi x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: bondage and use of toys

☆ — NOTES: it's 1 am and I should be sleeping bc I'm fucking off to London tomorrow early morning. Oh well LOL

☆ — PARTS: Part 1, Part 2 (you are here)

So we witnessed the part 1 right? Day mode Jinhsi content? If not and you came straight for this then you're FILTHY❗️❗️❗️❗️❗️ Jokes me too

Anyway she's as sweet in bed as she is in the streets my babyyy 🫶🫶🫶 AND she's also as strong and formidable too. Thoigh tbf cmon you're BASICALLY bedding royalty/royalty-adjacent 🤷‍♀️ like be real

As much as she holds power and authority in her duties with a balanced grip, soft and caring yet firm and watchful, she does like the feeling of letting it go. She isn't a workaholic despite the workload she acc has so she recognises just how nice it is to simply stop thinking. And she puts herself in your hands, so full of trust as if she wasn't superior to you. Though really, in the room you're in? You may as well be equals-- no, you may as well be the one superior to her

I think while she may seem like very vanilla, she's definitely looked into things once or twice to experiment and see what she likes and doesn't like, sort out her preferences and stuff yk. Don't think she's be open about it though, more of a 'need-to-know-but-you-have-to-ask' basis which nobody's ever been.....until you, DUH

Ohhhhh I see her as a toy enthusiast. She doesn't get them out often (and no FUCKING way would she display them or anything) but she does certainly have a collection. She buys them under different names, has trusted couriers deliver it without knowing what's inside and it would be a disgrace upon the Magistrate to take a peek❗️❗️❗️ and just keeps them in a hidden box with different compartments. I just KNOW she'd be extremely knowledgable on them though, like how you're able to use them to gain max pleasure and etc despite not actually using them a lot

I personally don't think she'd have much of a libido!! Might be bc of how swamp she basically is with work, both while she's clocked in AND clocked out, but she's just never had that constant want or need—that kind of thing is at the back of her mind, esp when she has an entire region to manage and protect as its Sentinel's blessed

When she does get the urge to do so though, especially when she's with you, oh it hits STRONG I fear. Maybe it's bc of how pent-up she may be (bc really sometimes toys get to the point where they jsut aren't enough), or maybe it's bc of her being closely linked to said Sentinel ☺️☺️☺️

By THIS I mean with the whole sharing powers thing, there's no way some of its draconic traits haven't affected her in a certain way. SHE SPROUTS HORNS FOR GOD'S SAKE

Maybe that was mean of you, leaving her all alone for a little while in the dark while the vibrator inside her pussy operated as it should.

Really, you were just having way too much fun with her collection and you just wanted ti grab a few more.. at least, before you got distracted with one thing or another.

Now that you're back, though, you can't say you regret being distracted; the overall look that you lover was currently sporting, all bound and oh so wet as flickers of the power you both fear and respect make themselves known by having her—or rather, Jue's—horns manifest on her head from the overwhelming feeling of wanting to let go. But she can't, not when you've yet to give her the command to do so.

"For a leader, you obey me so easily, even when I'm not even there," you notice. "This whole time, you're just really eager to please, aren't you, dear Magistrate?"

Of course she couldn't answer verbally, you hadn't told her to speak, but she nods her head desperately as she trembled and that was good enough for you.

You see her eyes tracking you as you came closer, her irises quite literally glowing a celestial gold from the need of release. The closer you got, the more you see her struggling with her bonds to reach you... And failing miserably, much to her credit considering how you knew she could tear through them if she really wanted.

When you finally, finally get close enough, your hand goes over the dildo vibrator inside her, yet you don't grip it. Instead, you simply graze your hand on the toy's handle, perhaps even knocking it slightly sideways for a little extra motion, to which she lurched so delightfully—unbefitting of a government official like her, of course, but certainly befitting for your beloved in the bedroom.

"Do you want to cum, babe?"

She nods.

"How badly do you want to cum?"

No answer.

"Speak."

And all at once, her thoughts burst forth, the blatancy still unfamiliar to you to this day yet it still isn't any less satisfying to experience such a strong, independent soul to fall like this.

"I-- I need you so very badly, please..! I can't.. I don't-- I don' think I can h-hold it any longer--"

"Bold of you to decide what your limits are by yourself." You raised your eyebrow, "You wanted me to take the lead, the least you could do is—" and you turn the vibrator off, "—follow it. Stop thinking, there is no place for you to do so here."

All she lets out is a desperate whimper—she doesn't dare to upset you any further.

..And that has you turning it back on again, though you put it at a relatively low setting for her, keeping in mind that her draconic-esque endurance would need more than the average to break your beloved completely, as per her request.

She wanted true bliss, right? She wanted you to ravage her completely and take control of her in the way nobody else has managed or dared to?

If Jinhsi wanted it all, then she had to let herself go completely first.

Anyway ab her horns, touching the base of them would set her the FUCK off 🥰🥰 no, not the horn itself. Apologies have to be made right here right now but I believe in horn technicality which means horn sensitivity is not a thing, ESPECIALLY when it's her type which only really appear when she's channelling her abilities. The ROOT of it however would be a different matter, so massaging her head would basically K.O. her self-restraint

But that's fine, you'll make sure it happens.. no matter how long it'd take and how loud she ends up becoming.

Along with that, she probably has INSANE durability and stamina let's be so real. Each time you do anything remotely harsh on her, her tacet mark flickers for a brief second and it's like you're simultaneously striking soft skin and scales at the same time. She can ALSO go for a VERY long time, so edging her? Is REALLY fun when you wanna test exactly how much shr can take befkre she breaks and starts begging for you to help her get off 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

Hi, I saw some of your IDV smut line prompt

If you still taking request from that and write for Wu Chang, can you do ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ and ❛ i don't care if someone sees us. i need you, now. ❜

More specific for Fan Wujiu/Black Guard just being needyhorny for his S/O ( ╹▽╹ )

I did my best! I like the idea of Wu, Fan, and Xie being three different ppl

Rated: Explicit | Warning: Aphrodisiac

“I want you,” You jerk in surprise, so hyper-focused on decoding you had paid attention to your heart racing alerting you of the hunter's presence. “It hurts how badly I want you.” Wujiu, the black guard, is currently in control. He looks like a mess! You thought it was because of Naib kiting him for so long but he looks actually in pain. “You will help us.” Grabbing you and placing you over his shoulder. 

Wu Chang is the person they make, the souls within him are Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu. They are bound by the umbrella they carry, forever together but not able to see one another. During matches, the white guard and black guard are separate but whole, Wu's personality disappearing leaving the original two to hunt. It is very complex and you, the partner originally to only Wu, decided to just go with the flow.

In the manor, only Wu exists. He is a stoic man, very reserved. It took quite a bit of work to try to talk to let alone be in the current relationship you are in with him. Later, you met the pieces of the whole. Bi’an, the white guard, is the calm one who approached you post-match as Wu Chang was very eager to see you.

The eagerness one has when a loved one has been hurt. Your match with Ripper was scary, the map was new and London-based (Soho if you remember correctly). The fog everywhere, the dark alleys, all of it to his advantage. You barely escaped with another teammate.

Thank God that map was a one-time deal!

Wu grew worried and risked punishment crossing to the survivors’ portion of the manor to see you.

“Such love merits our meeting. You are his sun, his moon, the very earth he envies as it holds you up.” 

You… Well, you have never been described so highly.

As introductions are important, Bi'an greets you pleasantly as you are the object of Wu Chang's affection.

Later came Wujiu, well, he bared what he wanted from you very quickly.

You have been intimate with Wu Chang once, it was an emotional moment and intimacy was necessary. You love cuddling, love skin-on-skin contact, but sex never seemed on the table— Rather in other words: it scared you. The trust, the work, and then the fear if you mess up.

Lots of anxiety.

With Wu, it was nice, slow, and you felt at ease and content.

With Fan Wujiu, you discovered so much in two hours!

Being currently in the Chinatown map, he knows exactly where he is going to hide you and him until the ciphers are completed. His victory is already claimed as he chaired two of the survivors before grabbing you.

“I do not care who sees us,” The top floor with the mannequins, “I need you now.”

You nearly scream when literally pounces on you, something you are sure Bi'an will scold him about. You scare easily.

By the time the last cipher is popped (poor Weeping Clown), you are a mess and Wujiu does not seem any better.

“Please, we need– God, I physically can't!” How much more can this man give!?

“You can, you must.” And you do as you bite his shoulder to contain your voice. “Blame. That. Bug woman.” His thrust is erratic, clearly desperate, and you are getting more and more drunk off his cock.

You have no clue what that means but you can guess by the way he smells sweet and weird then her ability must have affected him.

Stay put. I'm coming.

Hunter has detection! Go, I'll take the dungeon.

“Wujiu…” Shit, you might pass out.

He squeezes you in his arms, “Stay awake.”

“Hmm,” Oh, you feel lightheaded. “Tíngzhǐ.”

And he listens, “You took me so well, little bird.” Praising you as he stops immediately, “Are you hurt?”

“Just dizzy. And hot. Fuck.”

“I can't give you the care necessary,” He wants to keep touching you, “My apologies.” You know he means that.

“Widow's peak. There.” You try to get your words out, “Later.” It is a spot where you meet Wu Chang often, a private neutral area.

“Of course.”

He gives you a moment before carrying you to the dungeon.

[denimbex1986]

We are lucky to be alive in the age of Andrew Scott, an actor of extraordinary breadth, skill and sensitivity, who can terrify as Jim Moriarty in Sherlock, make us fall in love (inappropriately) as the hot priest in Fleabag and cry in All of Us Strangers. He can also astonish, last year playing eight parts in a stage adaptation of Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. He recently became the first actor to win the UK Critics’ Circle awards for best actor on stage and screen in the same year. And his latest project, Ripley, is a beautiful and chilling adaptation of the Patricia Highsmith novel The Talented Mr Ripley, with Scott playing the lead, dominating all eight one-hour episodes. It’s been a wild, crowning year for the 47-year-old Irish actor. But in March his mother, Nora, died of a sudden illness; she is who Scott has credited as being his foremost creative inspiration. His grief is fresh and intense and for the first half of the interview it seems to swim just beneath the surface of our conversation.

“We go through so many different types of emotional weather all the time,” he says. “And even on the saddest day of your life you might be hungry or have a laugh. Life just continues.” We are in a meeting room in his management company’s offices, talking about his ability, in his work, to modulate between emotions, to go from happy to sad, confused to scared, all within a matter of seconds. How does he do it? Scott laughs. “I would say that I have quite a scrutable face — is scrutable a word? — which is good or bad depending on what you are trying to achieve. But my job is to be as truthful as possible in the way that we are, and I don’t think that human beings are just one thing at any particular time. It is rare that we have one pure emotion.”

It’s an approach that is particularly appropriate for the playing of Tom Ripley, an acquisitive chameleon who inveigles his way into the lives of others (in this case Johnny Flynn, as the careless and wealthy Dickie Greenleaf, and his on-off girlfriend Marge, played by Dakota Fanning). “Ripley is witty, he is very talented. That’s gripping, to watch talent. I can’t call him evil — it is very easy to call people who do terrible things evil monsters, but they are not monsters, they are humans who do terrible things. Part of what she [Highsmith] is talking about is that if you dismiss a certain faction of society it has repercussions, and Ripley is someone who is completely unseen, he lives literally among the rats, and then there are these people who are gorgeous and not particularly talented and have the world at their feet but are not able to see the beauty that he can see.”

The show was written and directed by Steven Zaillian, the screenwriter of Schindler’s List. It’s set in Sixties New York and Italy, and filmed entirely in black-and-white, its chiaroscuro aesthetic evoking films of the Sixties — particularly those of Federico Fellini — while also offering an alternative to Anthony Minghella’s saturated late-Nineties iteration that starred Matt Damon and Jude Law. This has a darker flavour. “I found it challenging,” Scott says, “in the sense that he’s a solitary figure and ideologically we are very different. So you have to remove your judgment and try to find something that is vulnerable.”

It was a tough shoot, taking a year and filmed during lockdown. Scott was exhausted at the end of it and had intended to take a three-month break, but delays meant that he went straight from Ripley into All of Us Strangers. “Even though I was genuinely exhausted, it was energising because I was back in London, I was getting the Tube to work, there was sunshine,” he says. “I found it incredibly heartful, that film, there were so many different versions of love … I feel that all stories are love stories.”

All of Us Strangers, directed by Andrew Haigh, is about a screenwriter examining memories of his parents who died when he was 12. In it Scott’s character, Adam, returns to his family home, where his parents are still alive and as they were back in the Eighties. Adam is able to walk into the memory and to come out to his parents, finding the words that were unavailable to him as a boy. Some of it was filmed in Haigh’s childhood home, and there was a strong biographical element for him and his lead. Homosexuality was illegal in the Republic of Ireland until 1993, when Scott was 16. He did not come out to his parents until he was in his early twenties. I ask if he was working with his own childhood experiences in the film. “Of course, so in a sense it was painful, to a degree, but it was cathartic because you are doing it with people that you absolutely love and trust. I felt that it was going to be of use to people and I was right, it has been. The reaction to the movie has been genuinely extraordinary — it makes people feel and see things, and that isn’t an easy thing to achieve.”

The film is also a tender and erotic love story between Scott’s character and Harry, played by the Irish actor Paul Mescal. The two found a real-life kinship that made them a delight to watch on screen and off it, as a double act on the awards circuit. “I adore Paul, he’s so, so … continues to be …” Scott pauses. “Obviously it’s been a tough time recently and he just continues to be a wonderful friend. It’s everything. The more I work in the industry, I realise, you make some stuff that people love and you make some stuff that people don’t like, and all really that you are left with is the relationships that you make. I love him dearly.”

Scott and Mescal were also both notable on the red carpet for being extraordinarily well dressed. Scott loves fashion and has a big, well-organised wardrobe that he admits is in need of a cull. “I don’t like having too much stuff. I really believe that everything we have is borrowed — our stuff, our houses, we are borrowing it for a time. So I am trying to think of people who are the same size as me so I can give some of it away, and that’s a great thing to be able to do.” One of his favourite labels is Simone Rocha. “I love a bit of Simone Rocha. What a kind, glorious person she is. I just went to her show.” Fashion, he says, is in his DNA. “My mother was an art teacher, she was obsessed with all sorts of design. She loved jewellery and jewellery design. Anything that is visual, tactile, painting, drawing, is a big passion of mine, so I have tremendous respect for the creativity of designers.”

Today Scott is wearing Louis Vuitton trousers and a cropped Prada jacket, dressed up because he is collecting his Critics’ Circle award for best stage actor for Vanya. I ask how it feels to have won the double, a historic achievement. “Ah …” he says, looking at the table, going silent, having just been so voluble. “I’m sorry …” His voice cracks a little. “It’s bittersweet.”

At the ceremony Scott dedicated the award to his mother, saying of her “she was the source of practically every joyful thing in my life”. Is it difficult for him to carry on working in the circumstances, I wonder. “Well, you know, you have to — life goes on, you manage it day by day. It’s very recent, but I certainly can say that so much of it is surprising and unique, and there is so much that I will be able to speak about at some point.”

He is looking forward, he says, once promotion for Ripley is over, to taking some time off, going on holiday, going back to Ireland for a bit. He has homes in London and Dublin. To relax he walks his dog, a Boston terrier, dressed down in jeans and a hoodie “like a 12-year-old, skulking around the city” or goes to art galleries on the South Bank — he was considering a career as an artist until he was 17 and got a part in the Irish film Korea. He goes to the gym every day, “not, you know, to get …” he says, flexing his biceps. “More that it’s good for the head.” He is social, likes friends, likes a party. When I ask if he gave up drinking while doing Vanya, which required him to be on stage, alone, every night for almost two hours, he looks horrified. “Oh God, no! Easy tiger! Jesus … Although I didn’t drink much, I did have to look after myself. But we had a room downstairs in the theatre, a little buzzy bar, because otherwise I wouldn’t see anybody, so I was delighted to have people come down.”

Scott was formerly in a relationship with the screenwriter and playwright Stephen Beresford and is currently single, although this is not the sort of thing he likes to talk about. He is protective of his privacy, not wanting to reveal where he lives in London, or indeed the name of his dog — but he swerves such questions with a gentle good humour.

He is famous on set for being friendly and welcoming, for looking after other people. “The product is very important, but most of my time is spent in the process, so I want that to be as pleasant and kind as possible. I feel like it is possible to do that, that it is an honourable goal.” He is comfortable around people, with an easy charm — no one I have interviewed before has said my name so many times. And although when we talk he sometimes seems reflective or so very sad, there are also moments when he is exuberant, silly, putting on accents. “I feel like, as a person, I am quite near my emotions. I cry easily and I laugh easily, and there is nothing more pleasurable to me than laughing.”

Scott was raised a Catholic and is no longer practising, but says his view about religion is “ever changing — I definitely have a faith in things that cannot be proved”. When he was younger and felt overwhelmed, just before or after an audition, he would go to the Quaker Meeting House in central London and sit in silence, something that made its way into the second series of Fleabag, in which Scott’s priest takes Waller-Bridge’s character to that same meeting house. “It’s just around here,” he says, standing up, looking out of the window at Charing Cross Road. “When Phoebe and I first talked, we met at the Soho Theatre. We talked about love and religion, we walked all around here. And I said, ‘This is a place I go,’ so we called in and there was no one there, so we sat in there and we talked. It was a really magical day.”

Scott says he sees all the different characters that he has played as versions of himself. “It’s like, ‘What would this version of me look like?’ rather than, ‘Oh, I’m going to be somebody else.’ You filter it through you, and you discover more about yourself. I think that is a very lucky thing to be able to do, to find out more about yourself in the short time that we are here.”

[vickyvicarious]

There was a certain method in the Count's inquiries, so I shall try to put them down in sequence; the knowledge may somehow or some time be useful to me.

Let's talk about this method.

Dracula opens this conversation by first checking if he could have multiple solicitors, then questioning further whether he could have them for different tasks/locations. Jonathan accedes the legality of all this, but first says it's not usually necessary, then wants more detail when Dracula keeps asking. Dracula explains, but his explanation seems a little contradictory:

"Now here let me say frankly, lest you should think it strange that I have sought the services of one so far off from London instead of some one resident there, that my motive was that no local interest might be served save my wish only; and as one of London residence might, perhaps, have some purpose of himself or friend to serve, I went thus afield to seek my agent, whose labours should be only to my interest. Now, suppose I, who have much of affairs, wish to ship goods, say, to Newcastle, or Durham, or Harwich, or Dover, might it not be that it could with more ease be done by consigning to one in these ports?"

He claims he didn't want any local interests to be served over his own in London, but then turns right around and says that local lawyers in various ports would be able to help him there more easily. If he really wants his own interests served first and foremost, Jonathan's suggestion that he could work with one solicitor, who would then work on his behalf with colleagues in other places, seems perfectly reasonable. Of course, if he wants to limit how much of his affairs any one person knows, then dividing his various tasks amongst various people makes sense. It's more unusual or even suspicious, but it's perfectly legal.

(Aside here - part of the reason I think he actually wanted a lawyer who wasn't from London is because he wants as little connection drawn between himself and that lawyer's (or lawyers' plural, going off my theory he might plan to kill Mr. Hawkins later) strange disappearance/death. He wants anyone he meets in London to know nothing about him before his arrival there.)

Dracula's happy to hear this. Then he starts delving into all sorts of specifics, with an attention to detail that impresses Jonathan. He obviously wants to be very careful to be as fully prepared as possible. Only after this is all confirmed (in books, not just by Jonathan's word - perhaps guarding against Jonathan, who knows he is imprisoned, lying to him?), does he ask whether Jonathan has written home. He uses clever wording and an implicit threat to coerce Jonathan to agree to remaining another month and helping him further.

This, just after they have completed all their business. It's extra cruel with that timing. And then as soon as he sees Jonathan is trapped, he presses his advantage with insidious charm, essentially dictating the content of the letters he wants him to write home. He gives Jonathan extremely thin paper, once again a threat without words that his words will be seen, his cooperation assessed further. He proceeds to sit right there the entire time Jonathan is writing, and only after he is done does Dracula begin to write his own letters. This little choice increases the pressure immensely, meaning Jonathan has to write while feeling watched the entire time, then wait in suspense even longer after he has finished. Sure, he says he's just reading a book, but I doubt he's putting all his attention on that. Dracula is essentially taunting him here - all the more so when he leaves the room and the letters unguarded briefly.

Throughout the entire conversation, and the letter-writing that follows, he slowly tightens a net around Jonathan. The first part might raise suspicions about what Dracula plans to get up to, but it also is completely focused on business and very productive. It's also a lot of Jonathan saying yes, you can do that. Yes, it's odd to have multiple solicitors, but you can do that. Yes, if you want, that's allowed, and here's how to avoid any negative consequences. Then he uses the claim of business and duty to impose further on Jonathan. Jonathan is forced again to say yes, you can do that. You can have me stay longer. Yes, I accept, Mr. Hawkins did say I would help you however you needed. I will do that. Then as soon as Jonathan has agreed to that, Dracula ramps up the charm and threat both, and pushes harder with the letter request. He forces Jonathan to once again agree, this time without any words. Yes, I'll do that. I'll do what you want me to.

And then, at the very end, after establishing this pattern of agreement and complicity, after making Jonathan feel completely trapped in so many ways. Then, he starts to test Jonathan. To push him more. He leaves the room, leaves his letters behind. Two of them unopened. What is that if not an invitation to snoop? Jonathan takes the invitation - but he's frustrated in any effort to read inside by Dracula's swift return. Dracula removes any opportunity to learn more about the letters, and moves to leave Jonathan alone to stew in his thoughts... but turns back at the door to deliver a warning.

Don't sleep outside your room. If you do, who knows what would happen to you. He gestures as though he's washing his hands, as if saying I'm not responsible for the result or maybe even I won't save you. Coming right now, after the way the rest of this conversation has gone... it feels a lot like a deliberate taunt. A test. A push, to see if Jonathan will rebel once out of his sight. A trap, perhaps - especially if leaving him with the letters was already a trick, especially if he could tell that Jonathan tried to spy on them.

[elucienweekofficial]

Elucien Fanfic Crossword Answer Key- Smut Day Two

How did you do? It's our hope through this week of puzzles that folks are able to find an existing fanfiction that speaks to them! Consider these a small masterlist filled with recommendations from the community itself. Below you'll find every fanfiction recommended attached to the author who created it, added in the order they were submitted! Fics were also categorized to their best of our ability. Check them out below!

[please check all tags before engaging!]

My Name, Your Confession by @ofduskanddreams

Elain and Lucien are both determined to ignore the bond at Nesta’s mating ceremony, but their ideas backfire as the bond chafes and they reach a breaking point.

Elain refuses to say Lucien’s name when he’s around—Lucien vows to make her scream it before the night ends. Is it really recklessness if it’s fate?

Previously titled: “He Who Must Not Be Named”

Desperate Measures by @separatist-apologist

Day Court keeps Lucien busy.

Lucky for Elain, Lucien knows just the way to rectify that.

we'll always have paris by @beesays

"Someone might see"

"So let them"

Or Elain has an exhibitionist streak and Lucien indulges.

Like A Survivor by @reispinkoveralls

Elain suggests a rather creative solution to overcome her PTSD involving Lucien and a set of chains.

So Long, London by @shadowisles-writes

"You swore that you loved me but where were the clues, I died on the altar waiting for the proof."

After the war with Hybern, Elain is welcome back into Graysen Nolan's estate to marry him. Elated to live the life she dreamed of, Elain learns to glamour herself to fit in among the humans of their village. Unable to keep away on her wedding day, Lucien paces outside until the very last moment he can interrupt to beg her to reconsider, except the scene he walks into is anything but a wedding.

Push Me Up Against The Wall by @xtaketwox

It's been 6 months since Elain's world was turned upside down by Graysen's cheating. Vassa knows just the thing to help Elain move on: Lucien

Separate My Soul From My Body by @crazy-ache

“I am Elain Archeron, sister of the High Lady of Night, Feyre the Cursebreaker. I’ve come to demand the release of Lucien Vanserra back to the custody of the Night Court.”

"And why would I do that?" The High Lord of Autumn demanded.

“Because he is my mate.”

When Lucien Vanserra is held captive by his father in the cruel depths of Autumn, there is only one force more powerful than politics that can save him—his mating bond with Elain Archeron. She must make the choice to save him, even if it means binding their souls forever.

Solstice Traditions by @infinitefolklore

Lucien comes to the River House on Winter Solstice eve with another gift for Elain. He is pleasantly surprised by her reaction.

Where's My Love by @shadowisles-writes

After getting the smallest taste of what being close to her mate might feel like, Elain can't help but need more. This is pretty much just smut.

Little Dove by @infinitefolklore

Human!Elain and Fox!Lucien

This is a slight canon divergence deleted scene.

After Feyre is taken to Spring Court, Tamlin sends Lucien to go check on the Archeron Estate. Lucien finds Elain all alone and offers her some company. Elain discusses her upcoming betrothal to Graysen, and Lucien tries to convince her to change her mind.

Kneel Before Me by @zenkindoflove

Lucien arrives at the House of Wind, only to be drawn into a sparring match with none other than the Inner Circle's own Shadowsinger. Things get out of hand and Azriel discovers whether he really can defeat Lucien easily.

Post-ACOSF, Elucien.

All Roads Lead To You by @annaskareninas

When Elain Archeron decides to travel the Continent, the last thing she expects is to run into Lucien Vanserra, her almost-mate, at a wine bar in the capital of Montesere. In fact, the only thing she expects less than that is to get extremely drunk, go skinny-dipping, and sleep with him.

The next morning, Elain flees Montesere. But it seems fate has other plans for her, because wherever she goes - Scythia, Xian, Rask - Lucien just keeps popping back up. Can she truly resist her destiny?

The Camping Trip by sunnyzoya

"Does that turn you on? Thinking about someone watching as I fuck you?"

I Think I Saw You In My Sleep by @zenkindoflove

The dreams of him come from the mating bond, but Elain wants them to stay. Elucien one-shot. Post ACOSF.

I'm Betting It All On You by @xtaketwox

Lucien is tired of living in limbo. He has a proposition for Elain. One kiss and if she still doesn't want him, he'll leave her alone forever.

Call Me When You Need by @whatishowedyouinthedark

Elain doesn’t mean to sleep with Lucien. The first time.

The Longest Night by @southsidestory & NextToSomething

The Winter Solstice is a time for gift-giving, love, and new beginnings. Elain wants none of those things from Lucien. She didn’t choose to be his mate, no more than she chose to be High Fae, and she’s not used to either yet. The only way to guard her heart is to keep her distance. But then a blizzard hits Velaris, leaving Lucien snowed in at the town house. And whether Elain likes it or not, she’s spending the night with her mate—the longest night of the year.

(A Court of Frost and Starlight canon-divergence.)

Emissaries With Benefits by @velidewrites

When diplomacy fails, Prythian courtiers Elain and Lucien like to resort to a steamier kind of negotiation.

[worldofheroes]

Falling Fast

ethan hunt x fem!reader

summary: when Ethan meets his new field partner, he can’t stop thinking about her.

warnings: brief mention of violence, then fluff!!

wc: 825

a/n: based on this request! I’d like to think this was around MI3 and obviously Julia isn’t in the picture (love her though, she’s out living her best life).

You’re studying your new field partner from across the room.

You spot two men closing in on him, and you make your way towards them, ready to make a move if needed.

Ethan easily takes one of them down, but is struggling with the second.

You make your move, pulling your knife and finishing this man off.

Ethan stares at the man on the floor, then to you, furrowing a brow.

“Who… are you?” he asks.

“Y/n,” you say. “Your new partner.”

“New partner? I didn’t ask for a new partner.”

“IMF says otherwise.”

Ethan sighs. “Nice work.”

“Thank you.”

Ethan studies you for a moment, looking you up and down.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just…” Ethan stumbles.

“I know, I’m too pretty to be here,” you sigh.

“No, it’s that…”

Ethan can’t get his thoughts straight. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to clear everything from his mind.

“I’m sorry, you just caught me off guard,” Ethan finally says.

You can’t help the smile that forms. “Get used to it, Hunt.”

You catch the smile that appears and quickly disappears from Ethan’s face.

“Welcome to the team,” Ethan says, extending a hand out to you.

It’s your turn to look Ethan up and down.

“Thanks,” you finally say, accepting the handshake.

A month later, you find yourself in the midst of a mission in London.

Finding your target on a guest list for a gala, you and Ethan formulate a plan to get in and place a tracker on him.

As you finish up your makeup, you notice Ethan staring.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

Ethan seems to snap back to reality. “Nothing,” he says, shifting his attention to the gear.

He gathers your gear and hands it to you. He then picks up the tracker, disguised as a pen.

“This is going in my right jacket pocket,” he says, holding it up so you see it before he puts it in his jacket.

You nod.

“You ready?” Ethan asks.

“Yes, I think so,” you nod again.

The two of you make your way to the gala.

“You look very nice,” Ethan whispers. You almost didn’t catch it.

You smile. “You clean up nice too, Hunt.”

Ethan chuckles. “Thank you.”

While you’re focused on finding your target, Ethan is focused on you.

He can’t take his eyes off you. He knows he needs to be focused on finding the target and placing this tracker on him, but his mind keeps wandering to thoughts of you.

When he first met you, he was taken aback by how swift and confident you were in a fight.

Then he was taken aback by your beauty. Ethan was truly enamored with you, as much as he wanted to deny it.

“Ethan, are you listening to me?” you ask him.

“What?” Ethan says, focusing back on you in the present.

“Our guy just went upstairs. Less of a crowd there, might be a good place to catch him.”

“Good eye,” Ethan comments. “Lead the way.”

Thanks to your quick thinking, you grab the tracker and ditch Ethan. You bump into the target, and make some flirty small talk. You’re able to get the tracker on him, and you head back to Ethan.

“Got it,” you say as you join back up with Ethan.

“Great work. Let’s get out of here,” Ethan says.

You nod and head back to the hotel.

Later, as you’re having a drink with Ethan on the hotel balcony, you speak up.

“What had you distracted earlier?” you ask him.

“What?” Ethan asks.

You chuckle. “At the gala. You were really distracted. Everything okay?”

Ethan pauses.

“I was distracted,” Ethan says carefully.

You watch him clench his jaw and take a deep breath.

“I was distracted because of you, y/n. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I have feelings for you. This line of work makes relationships hard, so I try to avoid them. But I just can’t stop thinking about you,” Ethan looks away.

Your lips slightly turn upward in a smile.

“I can’t stop thinking about you too,” you whisper.

Ethan looks over to you, surprised by your words.

“Don’t act dumb, Ethan,” you smile, standing up and moving towards him.

You settle into his lap. He wraps his arms around you.

“I know you know you’re attractive, and of course any girl would fall for you,” you tell him.

Ethan doesn’t say anything.

“Ethan,” you whisper, gently placing a hand on his cheek.

“I’m so glad you feel the same,” he finally says before he leans in and kisses you.

You instantly melt into the kiss.

“I don’t think I’ve fallen for someone so fast,” Ethan tells you.

“Neither have I,” you say, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells you as he studies your face.

You softly smile. “You too, mister.”

Ethan chuckles, kissing you again.

[rom-e-o]

In my og timeline, considering how the girls aren't as on equal grounds when they first meet (Bess an established, married woman already with a glowing reputation amongst the lower classes of the community (amongst the upper class it's a crapshoot), Connie a woman on the run with essentially nothing), do you think that changes Bess and TeTe's relationship at all compared to what they have in the Scroogeverse, even in a small way?

And on the other hand, in your og timeline, if Bess were ever to appear, do you think her and TeTe's relationship might be a little different there too, compared to the Scroogeverse?

Ough, that is an insanely good question.

For obvious reasons, TeTe is VERY protective of Connie. Not in a controlling way, but in a 'suspicious of any company until they prove their intentions' way.

Their daughter was left on the orphanage doorstep overnight and could have been abducted/worse, Arthur passed early, Orin abuses Connie and makes it hard for her parents to see her for 20 years (something he can do way easier in the og timeline than the modern timeline), Connie attempts suic*de and fails, and TeTe has no other immediate/distant family. Connie is all the family she has (Orin does not count).

By this point, Scrooge and Bess are known for their philanthropic efforts across London, and since TeTe is basically New York's biggest children's philanthropist, she knows them from the papers. Ebenezer might even know TeTe's name in turn ("Wait ... DoGoode? That's familiar. Why is it familiar?") When she receives a letter from Connie from the Scrooge manor stating that she is living there in safety and solace, TeTe takes a boat (damn the risks) and visits herself.

I think what changes would be the start of the relationship. She doesn't view Ebenezer or Bess with disdain, but moreso...interest.

"My daughter has written to me about you two. How you took her in and keep her safe. You allowed her the safety of being able to get back on her feet. I ... am thankful. Suspicious and a still a little terrified, mind you, but VERY thankful."

I think TeTe would still bond with Bess easily, especially as they talk about charity ventures, and would take to her very naturally. I can see the start of their bond having more of an orange/yellow-light start, rather than a green one that comes with the security of the modern AU. I can see the relationship also having a more professional start, since she meets Bess as half the dynamic, charity-dealing duo.

The visits would also be less frequent in this universe, as boat travel would take a month, and was not for the faint of heart.

She's also be a staunch ally of the Scrooges at bigger, high-class functions. If anyone dares to take Bess to task about her nationality, age or upbringing, TeTe will hear NONE of it.

At the start, I see Ezekiel getting some of the most persistent grilling. Though, since he's basically the anti-Orin, she realizes pretty quick that he can be trusted. Maybe.

If Bess and TeTe met in my og timeline, I think TeTe would be much more open from the get-go. Her hierarchy of needs is secure - Connie is well and safe. Orin is incarcerated an entire ocean away. I think, very similarly to the modern-verse, she'd take to Bess after hearing about how horribly her mother treated her. She sees this resilient young lady, and feels a calling to support and help her.

[choco-froggie]

In his late twenties - Sebastian Sallow

Headcanons below

I want to start a series of my headcanons about what kind of person the HL characters would have become in their late twenties. Also I know next to nothing about the 19th century and don’t have the dedication to learn about it so in these, they’re just set up in our time. 😅 Bear with me

Work Life

I love the headcanon that Sebastian becomes a Curse Breaker. It fits his personal story AND personality well.

But he wouldn’t be happy working for a big corporation or the government. He is too much of a free spirit who needs to be allowed autonomy. So he would work in a small structure, a bit like a private investigator agency.

He loves his job and pours himself in it, resulting in a lot of overtime work. His boss has to throw him out of the office some days.

His home

He doesn’t need a big place so a small flat with two rooms is more than enough for him.

But he is prone to clutter and his place is full of books and things he thinks might be useful someday.

His flat is located in a big city, probably London. He needs to live in a place buzzing with life because he is easily bored. He needs a place where he will never have seen everything, with lots of things to do like exhibits, museums, libraries, pubs and restaurants,…

He doesn’t care for decoration but chooses his pieces of furniture with care. Decoration is usually taken care of by his partner.

He doesn’t own a pet, he is not at home enough to care for one and doesn’t feel the emotional need to have one.

He has a picture of his family in every room, even if it’s a small picture, but he wants them close everywhere in his place.

Social Life

He kept in contact with a lot of his former friends back in Hogwarts. He doesn’t meet them every day but is happy to have a drink with them when the opportunity rises.

He is outgoing and comfortable in social settings. He is able to come to a party where he knows no one and blend in with ease.

Despite being quite extroverted, he doesn’t form a strong bond with just anyone. Even though he is friendly with everyone, it’s mostly superficial and his true friends can be counted on one hand.

He doesn’t enjoy being alone so is often meeting friends after work, several times a week, and shares activities with them on the weekend like playing quidditch, go on small trips, game nights, watching quidditch games,…

Love Life

He has dated but has never had a « wild phase ».

He needs an independent partner. He is very busy with his work and all the things he has in mind, so he really appreciates someone who is likeminded. He can’t deal well with needy people. Being in the same room or space is already great to him for most evenings.

Actually self sufficient and people who are their own person attracts him.

He also needs someone with patience. When stressed or tired he can become a bit grumpy or moody, so he needs a partner who won’t escaladate. But he knows he is wrong and will come back and apologize once he is calmed down.

As said, he is a bit busy, but his partner is the person he wants to spend all his relaxing time with. Whether it is by cuddling after a long day in bed, or by exploring the city together, trying new activities, strolling in museums, or trying new food.

He is independant and self sufficient, as a partner he doesn’t slack off around the house and shares the mental load. He is reliable, he is used to live alone and gets things done without being babied.

Quirks

He hates doing laundry and doesn’t tidy his place as much as he should be but it’s always clean.

He can’t handle silence, even when he sleeps. He is always listening to something, most of the time it’s documentaries or podcasts about things he wants to learn about.

What would yours be about adult Seb ?